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This Boring Apocalypse
“Keen, shocking, and shockingly funny, This Boring Apocalypse glitters like a mirrorball of razors above a dance floor packed with severed legs. Each page is a grisly prism. Each page flashes with a kind of light. In tiny, honed chapters, this book creates a world where love bleeds into horror, where there is neither life nor death but a life-death hybrid, where everything exists in a state of regenerative decay. Brace yourself for these sentences. Brandi Wells knows how to take you apart.”
–Joanna Ruocco, author of DAN
“A novella told in miniature nocturnes, This Boring Apocalypse is violent and dazzling, brutal and mesmerizing; its melody is fatal. Wells pulls the body apart and buries it in pieces, but in her necropolis, limbs can rejoin, resurrect, return—fragments are hot-glued or sewn or soldered or just magically reattached to assuage a loneliness more formidable than death.”
–Lily Hoang, author of The Evolutionary Revolution
“Like if Donald Barthelme had been hired to transcribe Jeffrey Dahmer’s wet dreams for Lars Von Trier, Brandi Wells holds zero whims back in her blitzkrieg surrealist take on the Theater of Cruelty. The result is a hilariously germane Frankenstein-like idea-sprawl of gore and impulsive feeling, set in a mutative landscape where bodies are playthings, domesticity is punishment, and death, as if to match life, reigns on in brutal, fertile wonder. Strap yourself in and don’t look up.”
–Blake Butler, author of 300,000,000
–Joanna Ruocco, author of DAN
“A novella told in miniature nocturnes, This Boring Apocalypse is violent and dazzling, brutal and mesmerizing; its melody is fatal. Wells pulls the body apart and buries it in pieces, but in her necropolis, limbs can rejoin, resurrect, return—fragments are hot-glued or sewn or soldered or just magically reattached to assuage a loneliness more formidable than death.”
–Lily Hoang, author of The Evolutionary Revolution
“Like if Donald Barthelme had been hired to transcribe Jeffrey Dahmer’s wet dreams for Lars Von Trier, Brandi Wells holds zero whims back in her blitzkrieg surrealist take on the Theater of Cruelty. The result is a hilariously germane Frankenstein-like idea-sprawl of gore and impulsive feeling, set in a mutative landscape where bodies are playthings, domesticity is punishment, and death, as if to match life, reigns on in brutal, fertile wonder. Strap yourself in and don’t look up.”
–Blake Butler, author of 300,000,000
- GenresFiction
Paperback
First published March 2, 2015
2 people are currently reading
188 people want to read
About the author
Brandi Wells
21 books97 followersBrandi Wells is the author of This Boring Apocalypse, Please Don't Be Upset, and Poisonhorse. Their debut novel, Cleaner, was published by Wildfire Books in August 2023 and is forthcoming from Hanover Square Press in January 2024 as The Cleaner.
They teach creative writing at CSU Fullerton and hold a Phd in Literature and Creative Writing from University of Southern California.
They teach creative writing at CSU Fullerton and hold a Phd in Literature and Creative Writing from University of Southern California.
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
February 23, 2015
Read 2/17/15 - 2/18/15
3 Stars - Recommended to fans of the Blake Butler and Ben Spivey style literature
Pages: 122
Publisher: Civil Coping Mechanisms
Releases: March 2015
I should start a "Note Worthy" review series, specifically for the books I've taken notes on as I read. I feel like this is becoming a recent trend. First, for The Country of Ice Cream Star, to keep track of the amazingly beautiful, but initially complicated, invented dialect. And now for This Boring Apocalypse, which is just one of the most bizarrely written lit-fic novels I've read in a long time.
Here we have a woman who attempts to eat, and then begins to dismember, her girlfriend. Like, literally removes her body parts, starting with her legs, which she carries around with her and stores in her closet. What initially appeared to be a tender sexual act suddenly becomes tainted by her fear that her girlfriend is cheating on her, and so next she removes her arms. To keep her captive. And then she wants to reduce her to her smallest functioning parts, so she begins to remove the organs and then her head. So all she is now is just a hollowed out torso. Fucking weird, right? It's almost like she's playing with a doll, or a toy. There's no blood. There's no fighting. There's just this pop and bam! Body parts removed.
And like a kid who grows bored with their toys, our narrator tires of the girlfriend, disposes of her and chases down a man to play with. She wastes no time in removing his arms and legs. Pop. Pop. Off they go.
Then she sulks because she feels her own body is in control of itself and she desires to be in control of IT. While trying to control her body, she injures herself. This injury, which festers rapidly and painfully, ends up re-birthing her girlfriend. What the fuck, right?
As she's nursing her festering wound, she says "it is important to become part of the horror, lest we'll be controlled by it. Then the horror will overwhelm us. But if we are a part of it, we can at least control the part of it we are." And that's basically what the rest of the book amounts to, her need for control, at all costs. Of herself and of others. Whether this stems from a desire for companionship, or a place of intense jealousy, we ultimately find ourselves sucked down into her diseased brain. A mental rabbit hole we cannot claw our way back out of. It's a complete horrorshow.
People are planted in the ground by their feet and become trees, lab rats don white lab coats and perform experiments on infants, people she tires of and lets go return to her in the strangest ways... it's like an apocalypse of her mind.
Told in short, fantastical chapters, This Boring Apocalypse is a fast paced, increasingly bizarre novel filled with the surreal and distorted imagery that is the stuff nightmares are made of.
3 Stars - Recommended to fans of the Blake Butler and Ben Spivey style literature
Pages: 122
Publisher: Civil Coping Mechanisms
Releases: March 2015
I should start a "Note Worthy" review series, specifically for the books I've taken notes on as I read. I feel like this is becoming a recent trend. First, for The Country of Ice Cream Star, to keep track of the amazingly beautiful, but initially complicated, invented dialect. And now for This Boring Apocalypse, which is just one of the most bizarrely written lit-fic novels I've read in a long time.
Here we have a woman who attempts to eat, and then begins to dismember, her girlfriend. Like, literally removes her body parts, starting with her legs, which she carries around with her and stores in her closet. What initially appeared to be a tender sexual act suddenly becomes tainted by her fear that her girlfriend is cheating on her, and so next she removes her arms. To keep her captive. And then she wants to reduce her to her smallest functioning parts, so she begins to remove the organs and then her head. So all she is now is just a hollowed out torso. Fucking weird, right? It's almost like she's playing with a doll, or a toy. There's no blood. There's no fighting. There's just this pop and bam! Body parts removed.
And like a kid who grows bored with their toys, our narrator tires of the girlfriend, disposes of her and chases down a man to play with. She wastes no time in removing his arms and legs. Pop. Pop. Off they go.
Then she sulks because she feels her own body is in control of itself and she desires to be in control of IT. While trying to control her body, she injures herself. This injury, which festers rapidly and painfully, ends up re-birthing her girlfriend. What the fuck, right?
As she's nursing her festering wound, she says "it is important to become part of the horror, lest we'll be controlled by it. Then the horror will overwhelm us. But if we are a part of it, we can at least control the part of it we are." And that's basically what the rest of the book amounts to, her need for control, at all costs. Of herself and of others. Whether this stems from a desire for companionship, or a place of intense jealousy, we ultimately find ourselves sucked down into her diseased brain. A mental rabbit hole we cannot claw our way back out of. It's a complete horrorshow.
People are planted in the ground by their feet and become trees, lab rats don white lab coats and perform experiments on infants, people she tires of and lets go return to her in the strangest ways... it's like an apocalypse of her mind.
Told in short, fantastical chapters, This Boring Apocalypse is a fast paced, increasingly bizarre novel filled with the surreal and distorted imagery that is the stuff nightmares are made of.
January 29, 2015
Last night I made monsters with paper, read This Boring Apocalypse, and drank. I made many monsters. I like drinking. I was not bored.
In This Boring Apocalypse, the reader finds a patchwork woman, who, over the course of this book, is dissembled, reassembled, investigated, consumed, revamped. Erotic-life and erotic-death (as well as whatever is between that) are so intimated bonded here. I absolutely adored the appetite of Apocalypse. Full of peculiar, fantastic, anxious moments that I didn’t want to end. At one point the narrator tells us, “They have all taken parts of her and inserted those parts into themselves, so I cannot bear to part with any of them.” That kind of broke my heart.
The connection between consuming one into another’s body & grief became immediately apparent. I didn’t want her to have to part with anything, I feared for her. I am in love with this patchwork woman. I am also in love with her lover, who is also her torturer. It’s difficult to say who captured who really, there’s so much beautiful (terrifying) touching, tasting, absorbing. Yet I can imagine no better an ending than the narrator coming to terms with her own mythological journey as she says “We step back and watch our lives.”
If this apocalypse ever happened I would simultaneously be in awe & alarm of it: the abject loneliness; a threat both external and internal—manifesting physically: oozing, pus-ing, swelling, leaking; the menace of mortality (the menace of the spontaneous overflow of feeling). Like looking at something so beautiful you deny—and yearn—for its existence & you have no other choice but to laugh—there is humor here too! Wells affirms the strange beauty of human design, while exploring how vulnerable the body is; how vulnerable we all are at the scrutiny of our own autonomy.
*I do feel a little safer about my chances of surviving an apocalypse after reading this book.
*You should read this book. You will like it.
*I promise. I am trustworthy. I like cats.
*& vultures.
*********************
In This Boring Apocalypse, the reader finds a patchwork woman, who, over the course of this book, is dissembled, reassembled, investigated, consumed, revamped. Erotic-life and erotic-death (as well as whatever is between that) are so intimated bonded here. I absolutely adored the appetite of Apocalypse. Full of peculiar, fantastic, anxious moments that I didn’t want to end. At one point the narrator tells us, “They have all taken parts of her and inserted those parts into themselves, so I cannot bear to part with any of them.” That kind of broke my heart.
The connection between consuming one into another’s body & grief became immediately apparent. I didn’t want her to have to part with anything, I feared for her. I am in love with this patchwork woman. I am also in love with her lover, who is also her torturer. It’s difficult to say who captured who really, there’s so much beautiful (terrifying) touching, tasting, absorbing. Yet I can imagine no better an ending than the narrator coming to terms with her own mythological journey as she says “We step back and watch our lives.”
If this apocalypse ever happened I would simultaneously be in awe & alarm of it: the abject loneliness; a threat both external and internal—manifesting physically: oozing, pus-ing, swelling, leaking; the menace of mortality (the menace of the spontaneous overflow of feeling). Like looking at something so beautiful you deny—and yearn—for its existence & you have no other choice but to laugh—there is humor here too! Wells affirms the strange beauty of human design, while exploring how vulnerable the body is; how vulnerable we all are at the scrutiny of our own autonomy.
*I do feel a little safer about my chances of surviving an apocalypse after reading this book.
*You should read this book. You will like it.
*I promise. I am trustworthy. I like cats.
*& vultures.
*********************
May 12, 2015
This Boring Apocalypse is like The Notebook meets Re-Animator.
But only almost.
Only not at all.
Really, it’s a sadistically imaginative child playing house then burning down the house.
It’s very funny.
And scary.
Read more of this review @ www.revolutionjohnmagazine.wordpress.com
But only almost.
Only not at all.
Really, it’s a sadistically imaginative child playing house then burning down the house.
It’s very funny.
And scary.
Read more of this review @ www.revolutionjohnmagazine.wordpress.com
March 9, 2015
I finished The Boring Apocalypse and last time I checked I still have all my appendages. This was a absurd, violent, and at time poignant read. It took me minute to get the rhythm, requiring me to reread some of the pages, but once I found the rhythm I enjoyed it. I found it funny and disturbing which are two words you don't always hear together. If you only enjoy more traditional narratives this may not be the book for you. With that being said if you can take a deep breath and stop trying to make so much sense of the story it will start to make perfect sense. You must throw typical to the wind while reading this book.
The quote I highlighted that I think sums up the book best is "It is hard to distinguish between a person who you love and a person you intend to consume, a person you intend to de-arm and de-leg and de-head."
I'm not sure if there is a plot but there were definitely themes throughout the book like nothing ever really dies no matter what you do to it. There is a very interesting part of the book where two lab rats that stand on two legs and have two human subjects they experiment on like the way humans do lab rats that was really enjoyable. The prose is poetic and is exactly what I like about books released by CCM. Wells is obviously a good writer and I would really like to see what she could do with a more traditional narrative or a more linear storyline. If you enjoy Blake Butler or other releases by Civil Coping Mechanisms then This Boring Apocalypse will be right up your alley.
The quote I highlighted that I think sums up the book best is "It is hard to distinguish between a person who you love and a person you intend to consume, a person you intend to de-arm and de-leg and de-head."
I'm not sure if there is a plot but there were definitely themes throughout the book like nothing ever really dies no matter what you do to it. There is a very interesting part of the book where two lab rats that stand on two legs and have two human subjects they experiment on like the way humans do lab rats that was really enjoyable. The prose is poetic and is exactly what I like about books released by CCM. Wells is obviously a good writer and I would really like to see what she could do with a more traditional narrative or a more linear storyline. If you enjoy Blake Butler or other releases by Civil Coping Mechanisms then This Boring Apocalypse will be right up your alley.
October 3, 2015
Best. Cookbook. Ever. Not being a smart ass. This book made me hungry, made me wish I cared enough about people, and by proxy their bodies, so that I could also rip them open like Christmas morning. Read this if you want to see what happens when an author can't get close enough to her subjects by more conventional means and literally reaches inside. Read it if you want to get an idea how intoxicating such a disassembly could be. In a weird way, it reminded me of Cameron Pierce's Ass Goblins of Aushcwitz, as they both take a wrecking ball to the human body, both spasm with hilarity, and both tricked me into feeling sad, goddammit. Thieves, both of you. And, of course, it really is the Best. Cookbook. Ever.
August 4, 2015
This is more straight-up body horror, or maybe fractured fairy tale than it is Wells' contribution to the genre exemplified by Scorch Atlas or Apocalypse, Baby. What I mean is, this already takes place in a radically detourned space, and it's a single (more or less) narrative thread, as a singular protagonist tries to make sense out of this world where she (?) lives.
She creates a mate, tortures and eats him; creates another, and then things get weirder. Relationships between the trio shift, often in ugly, masochistic kinds of ways. The laws of physics and biology are flexible, but still recognizable enough that this book made me queasy in spots. The writing is lyrical, or at least inflected with enough odd rhythms that the telling of the tale is as much at issue as the tale itself.
This is a singular, weird book, and one I'm glad I read.
She creates a mate, tortures and eats him; creates another, and then things get weirder. Relationships between the trio shift, often in ugly, masochistic kinds of ways. The laws of physics and biology are flexible, but still recognizable enough that this book made me queasy in spots. The writing is lyrical, or at least inflected with enough odd rhythms that the telling of the tale is as much at issue as the tale itself.
This is a singular, weird book, and one I'm glad I read.
March 15, 2015
The mostly sublimely bizarre tale of love and loss and human consumption I've ever, EVER come across. Wells crafts a story of the apocalyptic nature of our relationships and the tedium that they can create through the language of sadistic murder, zombiesque imagery and skinned cats. For the number of times Wells pokes fun at cliche, her novel is anything but and I guaranteed it to be one of the least cliche, most unique views of modern human interactions.
September 5, 2015
I really liked this. It was magnificently absurd, and I spent the majority of my read fixating on how masterful it is, the craft of taking those tiny seeds of realness and... extrapolating them. It's a crazy read, an eye-opening read, and sometimes I said oh dear that's just silly and sometimes I felt very, very sad.
July 19, 2015
brandi never disappoints.
i loved this.
i loved this.
June 1, 2016
As I was reading this book my face did not know if it should be grinning or looking bemused, so it kept alternating between the two expressions. As I
continued to read the poetic flow of the story began to feel more like a logical reality to me than the reality we are forced to live on a daily basis.
Brandi Wells is an incredibly talented author. I am very grateful that there are Indie publishers (like CCM) who have the guts to publish very original and imaginative books like 'This boring apocalypse'.
continued to read the poetic flow of the story began to feel more like a logical reality to me than the reality we are forced to live on a daily basis.
Brandi Wells is an incredibly talented author. I am very grateful that there are Indie publishers (like CCM) who have the guts to publish very original and imaginative books like 'This boring apocalypse'.
June 13, 2016
This Boring Apocalypse is kind of like if torture and dismemberment were a jazz piece. It feels very seat-of-the-pants, but with an underlying complexity. It's like trying to ascribe logic to a nightmare, or trying to assign order to a mass of body parts thrown at you. Violent minutia fuels and leaps, which don't always land, but are often incredibly funny and absurd.
September 4, 2015
I love fiction as experiment, but something in this one left me a bit cold. The surrealism is incredible and makes the mind swirl.
October 18, 2015
I definitely read the cats section in Juked, years ago.
Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews