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Broken Bulbs
Frank Fisher is nothing. He wants to be something. When a mysterious young woman named Bonnie offers assistance by injecting seeds of inspiration directly into his brain, Frank finds himself involved in a twisting mystery full of addiction, desperation and self-discovery. Broken Bulbs, a novella by Eddie Wright, tells the story of the lengths one young man will go in the pursuit of "somethingness."
93 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2007
6 people are currently reading
327 people want to read
About the author
Eddie Wright
18 books61 followersEddie Wright is a writer from New Jersey. In 2009 he wrote and published the novella Broken Bulbs which he later adapted into the graphic novel Tyranny of the Muse. Always taking a scrappy, DIY approach to creative work, he is willing and able to jump from one project to the next, be it comics, copywriting, television writing, video production, creative direction, audio, or whatever else inspires him. He has written stories for the Regular Show comic series from BOOM! Studios, for the ID Discovery true crime television series Evil Lives Here, as well as several issues of the horror comic Lake Imago. In 2022, in addition to Tyranny of the Muse, he released the absurdist novel A Broken Everything.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 37 reviews
February 12, 2012
Those three stars you see up there, those are three ambiguous stars. I am not too sure how I feel about this novella. I don't think I completely get it.
Meet the protagonist, Frank. Full of self-loathing and he feels as if he is nothing. And how does one fix that? With drugs. He finds refuge in drugs and, for the most part, 'Broken Bulbs' swims inside his drug-addled mind. Drugs fuel his search for something, THE EVERYTHING. At times they put him on a creative kick and he would work on his film-script featuring Dusty. Some other times he would be pining for Bonnie, the drug dealer. And often he breaks into lengthy philosophical monologues (which may or may not mean anything, I don't know).
There is certainly some merit in this experimental novella. The writing style is fresh in many ways (even though stuff being written about is rotting and dark). The narration can be disorienting and abrupt in places, varying from staccato to stream-of-consciousness-y. Some whimsical and amusing scenes pop out here and there, like the angry postman bit. The film script with Dusty's cold and deadpan manner, the talking hamster and what not is almost surreal and is perhaps the most interesting part of the story.
Overall, the writing does complement the content. But it seems to need some polishing, the non-uniformity can be a bit jarring at times. Also the deep philosophy stuff didn't quite appeal to me, but may be that's just me.
So far I feel ambivalently okay-ish about the book, but then came the ending! I didn't like the ending, that I know for sure. Here is why...
Meet the protagonist, Frank. Full of self-loathing and he feels as if he is nothing. And how does one fix that? With drugs. He finds refuge in drugs and, for the most part, 'Broken Bulbs' swims inside his drug-addled mind. Drugs fuel his search for something, THE EVERYTHING. At times they put him on a creative kick and he would work on his film-script featuring Dusty. Some other times he would be pining for Bonnie, the drug dealer. And often he breaks into lengthy philosophical monologues (which may or may not mean anything, I don't know).
There is certainly some merit in this experimental novella. The writing style is fresh in many ways (even though stuff being written about is rotting and dark). The narration can be disorienting and abrupt in places, varying from staccato to stream-of-consciousness-y. Some whimsical and amusing scenes pop out here and there, like the angry postman bit. The film script with Dusty's cold and deadpan manner, the talking hamster and what not is almost surreal and is perhaps the most interesting part of the story.
Overall, the writing does complement the content. But it seems to need some polishing, the non-uniformity can be a bit jarring at times. Also the deep philosophy stuff didn't quite appeal to me, but may be that's just me.
So far I feel ambivalently okay-ish about the book, but then came the ending! I didn't like the ending, that I know for sure. Here is why...
June 27, 2010
This was a fabulously surreal book about a mysterious inspiration pushing woman named Bonnie, weird packages from the mailman, & a gigantic suit wearing hamster. It was enjoyable in a hallucinatory way.
Even now, months later, if you ask me how I am, I'll answer "It's a lovely day for tooth decay!"
Even now, months later, if you ask me how I am, I'll answer "It's a lovely day for tooth decay!"
March 24, 2009
(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com:]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted here illegally.)
As regular readers know, one of the often overlooked forms of literature I like to cover here in depth is that of experimental and cutting-edge stories, even though it's difficult to analytically critique such books, also for reasons I've gone into before. Take for example a great little novella that recently came my way, Broken Bulbs by first-time author Eddie Wright, which is an almost textbook example of what I'm talking about: that since its entire aim is to tell a dense, layered story in a poetic, often confusing way, it's both redundant and unfair to then criticize it for being confusing and pretentiously poetic. Better instead, I think, to simply acknowledge that this is what a book like this is going for in the first place, recognize that prose like this is meant to either immediately appeal to a reader or immediately not on a deeply subconscious level, and understand that even the author knows he is deliberately shutting out a certain portion of his potential audience by doing so. Once you acknowledge all this, then, it's easier to simply concentrate on how the book tries to accomplish these things and what other experimental projects it's most like, instead of the rather impossible summation of whether it's any "good" or not.
Because make no mistake, this slim volume is the bastard child of Memento and William S Burroughs, absolutely not for the faint of heart nor for anyone seeking a nice, simple beach read. It's fundamentally the story of one Frank Fisher, who seems at first to be the addicted druggie victim of a beautiful pusher named Bonnie; and like the best of so-called "body horror" (see David Cronenberg for more), the drug Frank is addicted to seems to be administered through violent injections straight into the brain, which has left the deliberately overdosing Frank's scalp a bloody, pus-filled, bandage-covered mess. Yeah, had enough already? Then by all means you should skip Broken Bulbs altogether, which takes such an image as the start of the story and then just keeps getting weirder and more disgusting from there. Because, see, the drug Bonnie keeps administering to Frank seems to be some sort of "chemical muse," an artificial substance that promotes creativity and inspires new thought; and that has Frank feverishly writing an absurdist screenplay whenever he's on the drug, the adventures of a sad-sack junkie named Dusty who seems to share a series of curiously similar yet magically-real coincidences with Frank's own life. And so does the slight plot keep moving forward, with Bonnie entwined in this real/unreal universe in a more complicated way than we realized at first, and with her obviously having her own agenda regarding Frank's drug abuse and resulting metaphorical fever-dream script.
What all of this does, then, is bring up an intriguing question from real life, just as all of the best experimental literature does: of how much this supposed chemical muse really is inspiring our hero, and how much of it is the insipid ramblings of a self-deluded addict? Take the real drug crystal meth, for example, which produces as a side effect so-called "tweaking" behavior, how an addict under such circumstances can be fascinated for hours on end by such mindless repetitive behavior as tearing paper or stacking blocks. Or take the more mundane example of smoking pot; of just how many supposed brilliant insights one has while high turn out to be rambling horsesh-t when considered soberly in the light of day. Wright plays with this idea here to great effect, by creating a drug in an alternate reality that supposedly really does produce a burst of legitimate creativity and insight whenever taken; but by relaying this information to us through the person actually on the drug, it makes us wonder if this is indeed the truth, or whether all of this (plus the massive paranoia that follows) is all a product of the drug itself.
Now, for sure there are weaknesses to this particular manuscript, apart from whether or not you enjoy experimental work in general: for example, Wright takes on an unfocused stream-of-consciousness voice much too often, and is only mediocre at it to begin with, leading to large sections of overwritten text throughout; plus existing heavy readers of experimental work will find this book awfully derivative at points, more a collection of Wright's favorite Philip K Dick moments than anything truly original. But there are also flashes of brilliance shown in this first book of his as well, comforting signs that Wright not only has lots more work still in him but that it's bound to just keep getting better and better; just to cite one good example, he has a natural mastery over dark witty dialogue, and I couldn't help but to laugh out loud at Frank's irrationally angry postal carrier who at one point menacingly declares, "You know, just cuz I'm a mailman, doesn't mean you can f-ck with me!"
This is for sure a literary debut, containing most of the problems inherent in that situation; but I also found it a better debut than most of the others I usually read, the sign of a writer who I think will be going in very interesting directions with future, more mature projects. Wright is ready to take on even more startling visions than the ones seen here; but for those simply looking for a well-done Beat-style experimental story, one that can be started and finished in a single day, Broken Bulbs will be right up your alley.
Out of 10: 8.2
As regular readers know, one of the often overlooked forms of literature I like to cover here in depth is that of experimental and cutting-edge stories, even though it's difficult to analytically critique such books, also for reasons I've gone into before. Take for example a great little novella that recently came my way, Broken Bulbs by first-time author Eddie Wright, which is an almost textbook example of what I'm talking about: that since its entire aim is to tell a dense, layered story in a poetic, often confusing way, it's both redundant and unfair to then criticize it for being confusing and pretentiously poetic. Better instead, I think, to simply acknowledge that this is what a book like this is going for in the first place, recognize that prose like this is meant to either immediately appeal to a reader or immediately not on a deeply subconscious level, and understand that even the author knows he is deliberately shutting out a certain portion of his potential audience by doing so. Once you acknowledge all this, then, it's easier to simply concentrate on how the book tries to accomplish these things and what other experimental projects it's most like, instead of the rather impossible summation of whether it's any "good" or not.
Because make no mistake, this slim volume is the bastard child of Memento and William S Burroughs, absolutely not for the faint of heart nor for anyone seeking a nice, simple beach read. It's fundamentally the story of one Frank Fisher, who seems at first to be the addicted druggie victim of a beautiful pusher named Bonnie; and like the best of so-called "body horror" (see David Cronenberg for more), the drug Frank is addicted to seems to be administered through violent injections straight into the brain, which has left the deliberately overdosing Frank's scalp a bloody, pus-filled, bandage-covered mess. Yeah, had enough already? Then by all means you should skip Broken Bulbs altogether, which takes such an image as the start of the story and then just keeps getting weirder and more disgusting from there. Because, see, the drug Bonnie keeps administering to Frank seems to be some sort of "chemical muse," an artificial substance that promotes creativity and inspires new thought; and that has Frank feverishly writing an absurdist screenplay whenever he's on the drug, the adventures of a sad-sack junkie named Dusty who seems to share a series of curiously similar yet magically-real coincidences with Frank's own life. And so does the slight plot keep moving forward, with Bonnie entwined in this real/unreal universe in a more complicated way than we realized at first, and with her obviously having her own agenda regarding Frank's drug abuse and resulting metaphorical fever-dream script.
What all of this does, then, is bring up an intriguing question from real life, just as all of the best experimental literature does: of how much this supposed chemical muse really is inspiring our hero, and how much of it is the insipid ramblings of a self-deluded addict? Take the real drug crystal meth, for example, which produces as a side effect so-called "tweaking" behavior, how an addict under such circumstances can be fascinated for hours on end by such mindless repetitive behavior as tearing paper or stacking blocks. Or take the more mundane example of smoking pot; of just how many supposed brilliant insights one has while high turn out to be rambling horsesh-t when considered soberly in the light of day. Wright plays with this idea here to great effect, by creating a drug in an alternate reality that supposedly really does produce a burst of legitimate creativity and insight whenever taken; but by relaying this information to us through the person actually on the drug, it makes us wonder if this is indeed the truth, or whether all of this (plus the massive paranoia that follows) is all a product of the drug itself.
Now, for sure there are weaknesses to this particular manuscript, apart from whether or not you enjoy experimental work in general: for example, Wright takes on an unfocused stream-of-consciousness voice much too often, and is only mediocre at it to begin with, leading to large sections of overwritten text throughout; plus existing heavy readers of experimental work will find this book awfully derivative at points, more a collection of Wright's favorite Philip K Dick moments than anything truly original. But there are also flashes of brilliance shown in this first book of his as well, comforting signs that Wright not only has lots more work still in him but that it's bound to just keep getting better and better; just to cite one good example, he has a natural mastery over dark witty dialogue, and I couldn't help but to laugh out loud at Frank's irrationally angry postal carrier who at one point menacingly declares, "You know, just cuz I'm a mailman, doesn't mean you can f-ck with me!"
This is for sure a literary debut, containing most of the problems inherent in that situation; but I also found it a better debut than most of the others I usually read, the sign of a writer who I think will be going in very interesting directions with future, more mature projects. Wright is ready to take on even more startling visions than the ones seen here; but for those simply looking for a well-done Beat-style experimental story, one that can be started and finished in a single day, Broken Bulbs will be right up your alley.
Out of 10: 8.2
December 14, 2008
Not half bad.
And I mean Not Half Bad in the category of Book I Read. In the category of Book I Read Because The Random Dude Who Wrote It Friended Me on Goodreads it was flat out amazing.
Not enough people cast a six foot talking hamster as the angel of death.
And I mean Not Half Bad in the category of Book I Read. In the category of Book I Read Because The Random Dude Who Wrote It Friended Me on Goodreads it was flat out amazing.
Not enough people cast a six foot talking hamster as the angel of death.
April 25, 2010
Love the style, love the premise, love the vulerability of the lead.
The only thing that wasn't love for me was the sometimes forced moments. It came off a little like "Remember, I'm being unconventional!"
The only thing that wasn't love for me was the sometimes forced moments. It came off a little like "Remember, I'm being unconventional!"
December 23, 2008
All hail to Eddie!
This book is one of those stories you understand what is going on during the experience. Although, when your done with the process you may wonder what the hell just hit you. You may not be able to explain what may have happened.
Broken Bulbs takes you in the mind of an addict. Written with such complexity the story almost reads like poetry. Reminds me of a movie called Videodrome or Jacobs Ladder.
A surreal novella indeed.
This book is one of those stories you understand what is going on during the experience. Although, when your done with the process you may wonder what the hell just hit you. You may not be able to explain what may have happened.
Broken Bulbs takes you in the mind of an addict. Written with such complexity the story almost reads like poetry. Reminds me of a movie called Videodrome or Jacobs Ladder.
A surreal novella indeed.
March 14, 2010
Now most everyone knows, I love deviant and damaged. I am also a huge fan of Burroughs’ “Naked Lunch” Dick’s “A Scanner Darkly” and Johnson’s “Jesus’ Son” … so it’s safe to say that I love the drug addled mind on exhibition – providing it’s making a satirical statement, of course. This book is no exception. And even though the writing style is not as rich and elaborate as I normally like, I am standing and applauding as I write this.
Yes, Frank is a drug addict, but the drug is actually more metaphoric in this case, more than in most other stories of this nature. This story, and again Bravo, deals with much more than the cliché numbing effect addiction is known for. Frank doesn’t become numb. He already lives in a world of fear and nothingness. His girlfriend hits him with massive doses of the drug, enough to make him open and understanding regarding love and all the possibilities in his life: his ability to love her back, his ability to feel happiness, his ability to create promise and joy, his ability to take notice. While he is on the drug, he is daring, handsome, desirable, talented – worthy of the air he breathes. But once it wears off and the fear takes over, he is, once again, the scourge of humanity.
And Bonnie, his girlfriend and dealer, is not reprehensible in this story. She reminded me of the Caterine Vauban character in I Heart Huckabees, and the story is quite similar in theme. The drug she provides is actually akin to love, and Frank’s own mind can’t let him accept it or enjoy it—can’t to the point that his flesh festers with a bloody infection at the injection site.
“I told her it didn’t work. I told her it felt wrong.
She said I looked great.
She said I looked happy. She said I looked right. She said I was fast.
I said I needed a new one.
She said the seed was just the inspiration.
She said that I take care of the rest.
She said it’s all a choice.
I said I needed a new one.”
The book is deliberately styled to be coarse and abrupt, disoriented, at times naïve, and a little reminiscent of Jack’s nervous breakdown at the typewriter in The Shining, but the metaphoric depth is truly sublime. Trainspotting meets Nietzsche in Wonderland; this is not a book about drug addiction. That would be too prosaic and easy in my opinion. No, the surface addiction is the excuse, as it always is. This book is about the addiction to fear, to cynicism, to blame and self-loathing, the black plague of humanity, which is just as dangerous and lethal as any drug. More so for some. So affected, they fear the very idea of being alive. Because no matter what they do, say, or think … none of it is good enough or worth anything, none of it actually means anything, thus, the lack of substance or something nullifies their very existence. They know they have a need and yet they cannot define it, and so the affected are beautiful creatures, suckers for the snake-oil, if you will, and exploitation is big business. Even the self-help charlatans will say, “That ain’t no secret.” The desperate will look for inspiration and magic saviours everywhere … even in toothpaste. Those white teeth might just be the something that will cure all your ills, at the very least, your toothache. Funny.
Yes … this is by far the best self-published book I read last year. One of THE best books I read all year, including the mainstream stuff. An existentialist’s dream, the author has dug in deep and laid bare the raw emotion so candidly that we can actually feel the futility, the desperation, and the humour. Yes, even with abject and impoverished souls, there is still humour: When a dark stranger comes to see Dusty, Dusty offers the man a glass of water. When the man declines, Dusty asks, “You sure, I have a Brita.” The implications of that line had me rolling out of my seat.
All in all, I think with a little minor editing this could be a real masterpiece, is a real masterpiece. Even the title is brilliant with its use of symbolism. I cannot wait to read more from this author. This is true and timeless literature. Philip Dick would be proud.
Yes, Frank is a drug addict, but the drug is actually more metaphoric in this case, more than in most other stories of this nature. This story, and again Bravo, deals with much more than the cliché numbing effect addiction is known for. Frank doesn’t become numb. He already lives in a world of fear and nothingness. His girlfriend hits him with massive doses of the drug, enough to make him open and understanding regarding love and all the possibilities in his life: his ability to love her back, his ability to feel happiness, his ability to create promise and joy, his ability to take notice. While he is on the drug, he is daring, handsome, desirable, talented – worthy of the air he breathes. But once it wears off and the fear takes over, he is, once again, the scourge of humanity.
And Bonnie, his girlfriend and dealer, is not reprehensible in this story. She reminded me of the Caterine Vauban character in I Heart Huckabees, and the story is quite similar in theme. The drug she provides is actually akin to love, and Frank’s own mind can’t let him accept it or enjoy it—can’t to the point that his flesh festers with a bloody infection at the injection site.
“I told her it didn’t work. I told her it felt wrong.
She said I looked great.
She said I looked happy. She said I looked right. She said I was fast.
I said I needed a new one.
She said the seed was just the inspiration.
She said that I take care of the rest.
She said it’s all a choice.
I said I needed a new one.”
The book is deliberately styled to be coarse and abrupt, disoriented, at times naïve, and a little reminiscent of Jack’s nervous breakdown at the typewriter in The Shining, but the metaphoric depth is truly sublime. Trainspotting meets Nietzsche in Wonderland; this is not a book about drug addiction. That would be too prosaic and easy in my opinion. No, the surface addiction is the excuse, as it always is. This book is about the addiction to fear, to cynicism, to blame and self-loathing, the black plague of humanity, which is just as dangerous and lethal as any drug. More so for some. So affected, they fear the very idea of being alive. Because no matter what they do, say, or think … none of it is good enough or worth anything, none of it actually means anything, thus, the lack of substance or something nullifies their very existence. They know they have a need and yet they cannot define it, and so the affected are beautiful creatures, suckers for the snake-oil, if you will, and exploitation is big business. Even the self-help charlatans will say, “That ain’t no secret.” The desperate will look for inspiration and magic saviours everywhere … even in toothpaste. Those white teeth might just be the something that will cure all your ills, at the very least, your toothache. Funny.
Yes … this is by far the best self-published book I read last year. One of THE best books I read all year, including the mainstream stuff. An existentialist’s dream, the author has dug in deep and laid bare the raw emotion so candidly that we can actually feel the futility, the desperation, and the humour. Yes, even with abject and impoverished souls, there is still humour: When a dark stranger comes to see Dusty, Dusty offers the man a glass of water. When the man declines, Dusty asks, “You sure, I have a Brita.” The implications of that line had me rolling out of my seat.
All in all, I think with a little minor editing this could be a real masterpiece, is a real masterpiece. Even the title is brilliant with its use of symbolism. I cannot wait to read more from this author. This is true and timeless literature. Philip Dick would be proud.
December 10, 2010
"Everything is equal, Frank. Everything is nothing. Everything is our minds interpretation of what we see and the values that we ourselves place on them. All anyone wants in their lives is something. And if we look at anything and if we chose to place any value on anything in our lives we have something. It all exists within us. We only have what we know. And we only know what we know. And what we know is that everything is actually nothing and nothing is actually everything. Because something and nothing and everything are all the same. All nothing is something if we want it to be. And you don’t want it to be, Frank. That’s why you have nothing, because you choose to have nothing. If you recognized for one minute that everything, that The Everything is actually nothing, you wouldn’t be so worried about it. You apply too much meaning to the concept of something. But there is no concept of something, there simply is something. Something is nothing, so therefore, nothing is something.;
I recall a passage from Freud’s –'Civilization and its Discontents', which I read years ago. Well, it surmises the aspect of emotions and thoughts being detrimental to an individual psyche only if the mind allows to get affected by these parameters. Fundamentally, what Freud claims is that a human being should be sensitively "dead" in order to escape susceptibly of caustic pain. I reckon, old Siggy’s state of unconsciousness did not entirely grasp the capricious brain functioning. It is rather impossible for any individual on this planet to let go of the past or a few unresolved feelings that are embedded deep within the dark corners of one’s heart. That is why we fear the idea of depressed thoughts, seditious beliefs and when the going gets tough we stumble upon 'medicinal nirvana'. Frank is a typical case of a mind jumble dreadfully perplexed in a quest of something.....everything.
Frank Fisher comes across as one of the many squalid druggies who raise a couple of eyebrows flocking for couple of EZ Widers and "tiny fake roses in glass tubes" with a handful of Sudafed sachets stuffed in their back pockets. The sly smirk on the cashier’s face signals the prospects of a further acquisition of quite a few 'baggies' from the nearby street corner. A rough sketch of Frank’s survival infers nothing more than he being a mere a drug addict who tries to pen a jagged script whilst greatly relying on Bonnie to hook him up with his trance concoctions. Gradually as the outer layers of Frank’s disheveled persona gets peeled off, a childlike vulnerability illuminates through the rigidity of his drugged exterior. Perceiving Frank’s character brings out a medley of emotions ranging from anger to empathy to a heartfelt grief. (How wrong was Freud eh?)
Who the fuck is Dusty? Ooh! Dusty is my favorite character or is he a sort of a moral fiber. Anyhow he is a pathway to Frank’s rescue from the eternal self-chase. Dusty to me is quite a bloke in the plot.
I have been fairly lucky this past week with couple books. It is an absolute thrill to read manuscripts of fresh writers. Firstly, since they write with such gusto that every penned word enlightens their charmed persona. Secondly, commercialized capacities and over zealous editors do not muddle their views and expressions. Broken Bulbs is a bona fide, satirical symbolism of a troubled soul and worth assessing every bit.
I recall a passage from Freud’s –'Civilization and its Discontents', which I read years ago. Well, it surmises the aspect of emotions and thoughts being detrimental to an individual psyche only if the mind allows to get affected by these parameters. Fundamentally, what Freud claims is that a human being should be sensitively "dead" in order to escape susceptibly of caustic pain. I reckon, old Siggy’s state of unconsciousness did not entirely grasp the capricious brain functioning. It is rather impossible for any individual on this planet to let go of the past or a few unresolved feelings that are embedded deep within the dark corners of one’s heart. That is why we fear the idea of depressed thoughts, seditious beliefs and when the going gets tough we stumble upon 'medicinal nirvana'. Frank is a typical case of a mind jumble dreadfully perplexed in a quest of something.....everything.
Frank Fisher comes across as one of the many squalid druggies who raise a couple of eyebrows flocking for couple of EZ Widers and "tiny fake roses in glass tubes" with a handful of Sudafed sachets stuffed in their back pockets. The sly smirk on the cashier’s face signals the prospects of a further acquisition of quite a few 'baggies' from the nearby street corner. A rough sketch of Frank’s survival infers nothing more than he being a mere a drug addict who tries to pen a jagged script whilst greatly relying on Bonnie to hook him up with his trance concoctions. Gradually as the outer layers of Frank’s disheveled persona gets peeled off, a childlike vulnerability illuminates through the rigidity of his drugged exterior. Perceiving Frank’s character brings out a medley of emotions ranging from anger to empathy to a heartfelt grief. (How wrong was Freud eh?)
Who the fuck is Dusty? Ooh! Dusty is my favorite character or is he a sort of a moral fiber. Anyhow he is a pathway to Frank’s rescue from the eternal self-chase. Dusty to me is quite a bloke in the plot.
I have been fairly lucky this past week with couple books. It is an absolute thrill to read manuscripts of fresh writers. Firstly, since they write with such gusto that every penned word enlightens their charmed persona. Secondly, commercialized capacities and over zealous editors do not muddle their views and expressions. Broken Bulbs is a bona fide, satirical symbolism of a troubled soul and worth assessing every bit.
July 15, 2010
Eddie Wright is another up and coming writer that you should keep your eye on.
This book turned out to be a wild and bizarre ride through an addicts mind. However, this isn't a story about a traditional drug addict, oh no.
The story is told through three main characters - Frank or Franky-boy, Dusty, and Bonnie. Frank is addicted to Insipicorp's Inspirational Toothpaste and Bonnie's inspirational messages such as: "When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on." Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Keep on brushing! Bye!
However, when the samples of the toothpaste stop coming and Frank no longer hears Bonnie's voice, he gets even stranger and has an encounter with the mailman because he feels as if he's nothing without Bonnie and Inspicorp's Inspirational Toothpaste.
Dusty was Frank's hampster when he was young and I know it sounds wierd, but the way Eddie Wright weaves this strange story within Frank and Bonnie's story, was really well done I thought.
Also, when you first pick up this book and start reading you will be halfway through the story thinking WTF. When you have a moment like that it's important to just keep on reading. It's only at the end that the whole story really even starts to makes sense and you're like ok I get it now, that's cool. At least that's the way it worked for me.
I am looking forward to seeing what Eddie's next book will be like. Happy reading and remember Bonnie loves you!
This book turned out to be a wild and bizarre ride through an addicts mind. However, this isn't a story about a traditional drug addict, oh no.
The story is told through three main characters - Frank or Franky-boy, Dusty, and Bonnie. Frank is addicted to Insipicorp's Inspirational Toothpaste and Bonnie's inspirational messages such as: "When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on." Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Keep on brushing! Bye!
However, when the samples of the toothpaste stop coming and Frank no longer hears Bonnie's voice, he gets even stranger and has an encounter with the mailman because he feels as if he's nothing without Bonnie and Inspicorp's Inspirational Toothpaste.
Dusty was Frank's hampster when he was young and I know it sounds wierd, but the way Eddie Wright weaves this strange story within Frank and Bonnie's story, was really well done I thought.
Also, when you first pick up this book and start reading you will be halfway through the story thinking WTF. When you have a moment like that it's important to just keep on reading. It's only at the end that the whole story really even starts to makes sense and you're like ok I get it now, that's cool. At least that's the way it worked for me.
I am looking forward to seeing what Eddie's next book will be like. Happy reading and remember Bonnie loves you!
October 24, 2009
Broken bulbs is definitely not for the faint-hearted. It is a fabulously original story, quirky and even a little screwed up in a refreshing kind of way. Whether you are sober or high, this is a great read, really Something. It. is. not. nothing.
September 29, 2021
Broken Bulbs tells the story of Frank, a frustrated screenwriter, and Bonnie, his Muse. After she provides inspiration in a most unusual way, he finishes his bizarre screenplay. Part stream of consciousness, part fantasy, it's hard to know what to say about this book. Did I understand what was going on? Not always. Did I like it? Well, it was a bit like being on somebody else's drug trip. I finished the whole thing in one sitting, and found it engaging.
March 13, 2021
Okay, I get what he was going for here, but man, what a disappointment. Too short, too silly, too incoherent, too uneventful.
Read
March 29, 2009Eddie Wright is one of my GoodReads friends. He sent me an email asking me to buy a copy of his bk & to review it. Ordinarily, a review copy wd be sent free to the reviewer. Regardless of that, I looked at the bk's GoodReads page & decided I'd give it a shot. I bought it & then wrote Eddie asking him to do the same for me w/ my bk "footnotes".
NOW what? It's potentially a big responsibility to review a 1st bk by a writer. I cd take the easy way out & give the bk a 5 star glowing review - thusly probably making Eddie happy & possibly insuring a good review of my own bk. &, thankfully, I LIKED "Broken Bulbs", so I'm not faced w/ considering writing a highly critical review out of honest 'necessity'.
INSTEAD, I find my self facing a slightly more complicated middle ground. I'm tempted to give "Broken Bulbs" a 4 star rating b/c I did enjoy it, it was written w/ substantial skill, & I did find it a 'compelling' read in a similar way that I've found bks by some of my favorite pulp writers compelling - writers like Dashiell Hammett or Philip K. Dick. But, no, it's a bit closer to Rudy Rucker or Jonathan Lethem. & I doubt that Wright wd be offended by these comparisons - given that an advertising review on the back of the bk reads: "philip dick wd be proud.".
This is a novel about attempting to be something, about attempting to be inspired, about being in love, about addiction. Some of these are, perhaps, somewhat reminiscent of Dick's "A Scanner Darkly". HOWEVER, this novella doesn't quite reach the profundity of detail & despair & imagination that Dick's novel does. Wch isn't to say that it's 'bad'! Far from it. It does mean that it's a bk by Wright, NOT by Dick, et al.. - As it shd be!
In fact, there were a few turns in the novel that were writerly enuf to invigorate my attn & stir my admiration. I particularly liked the scene where the young boy (I don't want to be too spoiler-specific here) reads his short story to his class.
"Broken Bulbs" is written in varying subtly interwoven & inter-related voices. A part of the joy of reading it is having these relations revealed. Older pulp novels typically had a structure where one narrative thread is left hanging at the end of one chapter to be replaced by another narrative thread left hanging - at wch point the 1st is returned to, etc.. "Broken Bulbs" is a product of an age where such a propelling strategy is no longer sufficient - instead, it's more of a meta-narrative - where the propulsion is kept going by different levels of fictionalizing - & this strategy is quite successful.
All in all, I think this is a very good 1st novella & I'll certainly read more by Wright as it, hopefully, comes along. It is, though, a FIRST novella & Wright has, most likely, greater things in him. The language here is quite good but it remains to be more fully developed. As such, I refrain from giving it a star rating. If I were to rate it a 4 star bk, I wd be giving it credit due to more practiced writers, if I were to give it a 3 star rating, I might seem to be insufficiently enthusiastic. A 1 or 2 star rating wd be too low, a 5 star rating wd be too high.
At any rate, this story will speak to many people who're struggling to make something out of their life & who're grasping for inspiration in ways that aren't always the healthiest, eh? & Wright tells the story well.
NOW what? It's potentially a big responsibility to review a 1st bk by a writer. I cd take the easy way out & give the bk a 5 star glowing review - thusly probably making Eddie happy & possibly insuring a good review of my own bk. &, thankfully, I LIKED "Broken Bulbs", so I'm not faced w/ considering writing a highly critical review out of honest 'necessity'.
INSTEAD, I find my self facing a slightly more complicated middle ground. I'm tempted to give "Broken Bulbs" a 4 star rating b/c I did enjoy it, it was written w/ substantial skill, & I did find it a 'compelling' read in a similar way that I've found bks by some of my favorite pulp writers compelling - writers like Dashiell Hammett or Philip K. Dick. But, no, it's a bit closer to Rudy Rucker or Jonathan Lethem. & I doubt that Wright wd be offended by these comparisons - given that an advertising review on the back of the bk reads: "philip dick wd be proud.".
This is a novel about attempting to be something, about attempting to be inspired, about being in love, about addiction. Some of these are, perhaps, somewhat reminiscent of Dick's "A Scanner Darkly". HOWEVER, this novella doesn't quite reach the profundity of detail & despair & imagination that Dick's novel does. Wch isn't to say that it's 'bad'! Far from it. It does mean that it's a bk by Wright, NOT by Dick, et al.. - As it shd be!
In fact, there were a few turns in the novel that were writerly enuf to invigorate my attn & stir my admiration. I particularly liked the scene where the young boy (I don't want to be too spoiler-specific here) reads his short story to his class.
"Broken Bulbs" is written in varying subtly interwoven & inter-related voices. A part of the joy of reading it is having these relations revealed. Older pulp novels typically had a structure where one narrative thread is left hanging at the end of one chapter to be replaced by another narrative thread left hanging - at wch point the 1st is returned to, etc.. "Broken Bulbs" is a product of an age where such a propelling strategy is no longer sufficient - instead, it's more of a meta-narrative - where the propulsion is kept going by different levels of fictionalizing - & this strategy is quite successful.
All in all, I think this is a very good 1st novella & I'll certainly read more by Wright as it, hopefully, comes along. It is, though, a FIRST novella & Wright has, most likely, greater things in him. The language here is quite good but it remains to be more fully developed. As such, I refrain from giving it a star rating. If I were to rate it a 4 star bk, I wd be giving it credit due to more practiced writers, if I were to give it a 3 star rating, I might seem to be insufficiently enthusiastic. A 1 or 2 star rating wd be too low, a 5 star rating wd be too high.
At any rate, this story will speak to many people who're struggling to make something out of their life & who're grasping for inspiration in ways that aren't always the healthiest, eh? & Wright tells the story well.
December 5, 2009
I'd give this a 3.5 rating if I could, because while this novella isn't the kind of thing I normally read, I found it fascinating and entertaining, and swallowed it whole in one sitting. Below is the review I posted on my blog:
"Wright certainly knows how to find beauty in the strangest of places.
Broken Bulbs is a curiously surreal novella that reminded me of Donnie Darko and Requiem for a Dream. It follows the main character’s—Frank’s—addiction-fuelled quest for “somethingness”, for meaning.
Enter Bonnie, Frank’s elusive and mysterious muse and dealer, who sells a drug any creative would kill for: inspiration.
What follows is an ambitious, experimental tale, half novel, half screenplay, the latter being snippets from Frank’s drug-induced spurts of creativity. His addiction—to the drug? to Bonnie? both?—blurs the lines between real and unreal, teetering between patheticness and brilliance. It is dark, twisted, gory, cringe-worthy, but most of all, fascinating. It is, I think, a story that speaks to anyone struggling to make something of themselves.
Now let me be honest with you: I am not a big reader of experimental fiction. I often find it confusing and pretentious, striving to be meaningful but showcasing the author’s ego more than anything else. Yet somehow Broken Bulbs manages to break beyond that stereotype and give even me—sceptic that I am—something to think about.
The writing is raw, unpolished (perhaps a little too much so; there was a smattering of typos), and incredibly vivid. Several times throughout the novella I read sentences so unusual and striking that I had to go back and read them again, if only to relive the imagery.
The prose was erratic, jumping between Frank’s stream-of-consciousness rambling (which, to be honest, I found a little patchy in some places), to scenes with Bonnie, to my favourite: the screenplay, which follows main character Dusty’s life, one that parallels eerily with Frank’s. Yes, this mixture of styles is a little jarring, but I don’t think Wright was aiming for smooth reading. This is a story that is meant to disturb; addiction is not for the faint-hearted.
And yet, as disturbing as it was, there was something hauntingly familiar about Frank’s story, a desperation which I could relate to, a desire to be something. As for whether he finds that “somethingness”, well, you’ll have to read it to understand.
Let me just say, when I read the last line, I got a little shiver down my spine.
I think Wright still has room to grow, and am curious to see what he comes up with next. But in the meanwhile, if you like experimental, thought-provoking fiction, I recommend you check out Broken Bulbs."
"Wright certainly knows how to find beauty in the strangest of places.
Broken Bulbs is a curiously surreal novella that reminded me of Donnie Darko and Requiem for a Dream. It follows the main character’s—Frank’s—addiction-fuelled quest for “somethingness”, for meaning.
Enter Bonnie, Frank’s elusive and mysterious muse and dealer, who sells a drug any creative would kill for: inspiration.
What follows is an ambitious, experimental tale, half novel, half screenplay, the latter being snippets from Frank’s drug-induced spurts of creativity. His addiction—to the drug? to Bonnie? both?—blurs the lines between real and unreal, teetering between patheticness and brilliance. It is dark, twisted, gory, cringe-worthy, but most of all, fascinating. It is, I think, a story that speaks to anyone struggling to make something of themselves.
Now let me be honest with you: I am not a big reader of experimental fiction. I often find it confusing and pretentious, striving to be meaningful but showcasing the author’s ego more than anything else. Yet somehow Broken Bulbs manages to break beyond that stereotype and give even me—sceptic that I am—something to think about.
The writing is raw, unpolished (perhaps a little too much so; there was a smattering of typos), and incredibly vivid. Several times throughout the novella I read sentences so unusual and striking that I had to go back and read them again, if only to relive the imagery.
The prose was erratic, jumping between Frank’s stream-of-consciousness rambling (which, to be honest, I found a little patchy in some places), to scenes with Bonnie, to my favourite: the screenplay, which follows main character Dusty’s life, one that parallels eerily with Frank’s. Yes, this mixture of styles is a little jarring, but I don’t think Wright was aiming for smooth reading. This is a story that is meant to disturb; addiction is not for the faint-hearted.
And yet, as disturbing as it was, there was something hauntingly familiar about Frank’s story, a desperation which I could relate to, a desire to be something. As for whether he finds that “somethingness”, well, you’ll have to read it to understand.
Let me just say, when I read the last line, I got a little shiver down my spine.
I think Wright still has room to grow, and am curious to see what he comes up with next. But in the meanwhile, if you like experimental, thought-provoking fiction, I recommend you check out Broken Bulbs."
June 9, 2013
Everybody wants to be or do something in life, and that “something” can sometimes feel nearly impossible to achieve. Frank Fisher is a struggling writer and addict who will stop at nothing to find the inspiration that will help him return from the physical and mental rot in which he finds himself. Frank depends on his eccentric lady-friend, Bonnie, for a fresh supply of inspirational “seeds” that Bonnie must inject directly into his brain. As Frank receives the doses he needs, he finally and climactically completes the macabre screenplay that screamed for escape for so long.
Eddie Wright takes his audience on quite a trip (did you catch that pun?) throughout this surreal, existential novella. Broken Bulbs is a stream of consciousness description of real time moments in the creative struggle of main character Frank Fisher. Wright creatively intertwines Frank’s highs with the script of the screenplay that Frank is desperately trying to complete, allowing the audience to indulge in two plotlines: Frank’s drug laced race against “Nothingness,” and the reckoning of Frank’s screenplay’s disturbed main character, Rusty, by way of a posthumous father and a scorned, six-foot hamster (Yes, seriously). Wright paints a vivid picture of these two sets, so much so that it could be easily translated into a stage play or a graphic novel. With this duality, Wright uniquely interprets a semi-autobiographical fictional depiction within a semi-autobiographical fictional depiction of a person’s quest for meaning and recognition.
This work satisfies a narrow audience, mostly creative types, possibly addicts, and definitely fans of existentialism. Broken Bulbs is not a traditional or light read. If you are seeking a character-based novel with relationships and a beginning, middle, and end, this book is not for you. Suggestion: Read in one sitting. It is a quick read that contains so much choppy stream of consciousness writing that it takes a bit of time to adjust it. Trying to come back to it mid-story causes a loss of momentum and intent.
Eddie Wright takes his audience on quite a trip (did you catch that pun?) throughout this surreal, existential novella. Broken Bulbs is a stream of consciousness description of real time moments in the creative struggle of main character Frank Fisher. Wright creatively intertwines Frank’s highs with the script of the screenplay that Frank is desperately trying to complete, allowing the audience to indulge in two plotlines: Frank’s drug laced race against “Nothingness,” and the reckoning of Frank’s screenplay’s disturbed main character, Rusty, by way of a posthumous father and a scorned, six-foot hamster (Yes, seriously). Wright paints a vivid picture of these two sets, so much so that it could be easily translated into a stage play or a graphic novel. With this duality, Wright uniquely interprets a semi-autobiographical fictional depiction within a semi-autobiographical fictional depiction of a person’s quest for meaning and recognition.
This work satisfies a narrow audience, mostly creative types, possibly addicts, and definitely fans of existentialism. Broken Bulbs is not a traditional or light read. If you are seeking a character-based novel with relationships and a beginning, middle, and end, this book is not for you. Suggestion: Read in one sitting. It is a quick read that contains so much choppy stream of consciousness writing that it takes a bit of time to adjust it. Trying to come back to it mid-story causes a loss of momentum and intent.
June 26, 2009
about to read. I downloaded this for free, and as a fellow author I feel kind of dirty. There it was though pay 10 quid or download for free. I was broke your honour.
Problem is it's just a bunch of paper, no cover or feel of a book in your hand.
well started this on the train home, got back and my daughters went out clubbing or some such, Clare had teacherly things to do, I should have mowed the lawn, but instead sat (lay) down and read this with a beer or two. I was hooked - a driving narrative of drug addiction, some strange seed that is administered by his pusher (Bonnie) into his bleeding, pus ridden forehead. And whoosh he's away driving like a madman, fantasising about Bonnie, or writing his mad Weissman-like (it has that casual attitude to murder) screenplay. Without the drug he's nothing, with it he's a playwright, a maybe-lover, he's something. It's a kind of meditation on 'the muse' (both the drug and Bonnie) and creativity. This all works well. I liked best the encounters with 'ordinary' people - the waitress, the postman, and how those play with his delusions. I loved the toothpaste sequence too. The only thing that lagged a little- for me - was the hamster bit of the play he's writing. I suppose it works well too, especially the end with the six foot hamster but it was a little predictable (not the 6 foot bit just the treatment of the hamster bit). Yeh I liked it and finished it before the kids got back from clubbing. I'll probably read it again soon if Clare doesn't stick the paper in the recycling box.
Problem is it's just a bunch of paper, no cover or feel of a book in your hand.
well started this on the train home, got back and my daughters went out clubbing or some such, Clare had teacherly things to do, I should have mowed the lawn, but instead sat (lay) down and read this with a beer or two. I was hooked - a driving narrative of drug addiction, some strange seed that is administered by his pusher (Bonnie) into his bleeding, pus ridden forehead. And whoosh he's away driving like a madman, fantasising about Bonnie, or writing his mad Weissman-like (it has that casual attitude to murder) screenplay. Without the drug he's nothing, with it he's a playwright, a maybe-lover, he's something. It's a kind of meditation on 'the muse' (both the drug and Bonnie) and creativity. This all works well. I liked best the encounters with 'ordinary' people - the waitress, the postman, and how those play with his delusions. I loved the toothpaste sequence too. The only thing that lagged a little- for me - was the hamster bit of the play he's writing. I suppose it works well too, especially the end with the six foot hamster but it was a little predictable (not the 6 foot bit just the treatment of the hamster bit). Yeh I liked it and finished it before the kids got back from clubbing. I'll probably read it again soon if Clare doesn't stick the paper in the recycling box.
June 7, 2010
Broken Bulbs is either about a junkie trying to write a screenplay or a writer who thinks he needs to fix in order to create. Either way, it's a compelling meditation about the intersection of art and addiction and the way that both are essentially born of our need to feel like our life has meaning. Narratively, the book plays out like a bad trip, existing in a world that's all blood and puke and festering wounds and desperation. But often it's the worst trips that are the most revealing, showing us the parts of our souls that are ugly and petty, tearing down the barriers between the stories we tell ourselves and the truths we try to evade.
The narrator, Frank, is a struggling writer hooked on drugs marketed as chemical inspiration, instant creativity in sleek corporate packaging complete with a cartoon lightbulb mascot named Bulbereno. He's aided - or possibly enabled - by Bonnie, the corporate rep who's part muse, part pusher, and part unrequited love interest. While administering his fixes through a festering sore in his head, she encourages him to write a screenplay in the hopes that somehow it can imbue his squandered life with meaning. The deeper Frank delves into the fictional world he's created, the more it begins to bleed into his own emotionally-warped reality, forcing him to face personal demons he's long repressed.
It's gritty, it's ugly, it's brazenly experimental in both form and style, it's allegorical, it's satirical, it's as darkly engrossing as staring at someone's disfiguring wounds, and yet it also manages to be profoundly cathartic.
The narrator, Frank, is a struggling writer hooked on drugs marketed as chemical inspiration, instant creativity in sleek corporate packaging complete with a cartoon lightbulb mascot named Bulbereno. He's aided - or possibly enabled - by Bonnie, the corporate rep who's part muse, part pusher, and part unrequited love interest. While administering his fixes through a festering sore in his head, she encourages him to write a screenplay in the hopes that somehow it can imbue his squandered life with meaning. The deeper Frank delves into the fictional world he's created, the more it begins to bleed into his own emotionally-warped reality, forcing him to face personal demons he's long repressed.
It's gritty, it's ugly, it's brazenly experimental in both form and style, it's allegorical, it's satirical, it's as darkly engrossing as staring at someone's disfiguring wounds, and yet it also manages to be profoundly cathartic.
April 1, 2010
I won this book through First Reads here on Goodreads, and I have to admit, I was extremely excited when I found out. I've never won anything in my life. But that doesn't change how I feel about this book.
First off, I'm not even really sure what I make of Broken Bulbs. I didn't hate the book but I didn't love it either. I'm completely indifferent towards it. It didn't evoke any deep emotions in me, it didn't make me ponder the great mysteries of life, I got nothing. (Which, I might add, the book is based around.) It seemed almost pointless really. I mean it's about this guy, Frank Fisher, who's all depressed because he treated his pet hamster, Dusty, miserably. But at the end his gal pal, Bonnie, helps him come to terms with it, and everything's all better.
Anyway, that's not all that I took from the book. I did get a deeper meaning (which I could write a whole proper review about but am to lazy to do. Besides, I'm sure you'd be to lazy to read it) but that, friends, is the basis of this novella.
Honestly, I'm not sure what group of people to recommend Broken Bulbs to, but I'd say that if you want a quick read (the book's only 98 pages) then this is the book for you.
But truly, Broken Bulbs is the kind of story that each person will interpret differently. So go ahead, read it. You just might fall in love with it.
First off, I'm not even really sure what I make of Broken Bulbs. I didn't hate the book but I didn't love it either. I'm completely indifferent towards it. It didn't evoke any deep emotions in me, it didn't make me ponder the great mysteries of life, I got nothing. (Which, I might add, the book is based around.) It seemed almost pointless really. I mean it's about this guy, Frank Fisher, who's all depressed because he treated his pet hamster, Dusty, miserably. But at the end his gal pal, Bonnie, helps him come to terms with it, and everything's all better.
Anyway, that's not all that I took from the book. I did get a deeper meaning (which I could write a whole proper review about but am to lazy to do. Besides, I'm sure you'd be to lazy to read it) but that, friends, is the basis of this novella.
Honestly, I'm not sure what group of people to recommend Broken Bulbs to, but I'd say that if you want a quick read (the book's only 98 pages) then this is the book for you.
But truly, Broken Bulbs is the kind of story that each person will interpret differently. So go ahead, read it. You just might fall in love with it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 21, 2009
Review of Story Line:
There is such a sense of urgency while reading this book. You know you have to put the book down because the pot is over-boiling, but no way in hell am I putting it down. What if I miss something? That’s how I felt reading this book. You live in real time with the story and really feel like if you blink, you just missed what happened!
Review of Characters:
The characters revolted me and made me gag in some parts. Awesome! The way they act, talk and react to situations is exactly how they make you feel as you are reading it. You couldn’t help but put yourself in Frank’s mind and body. It pulls you in.
Review of Writing:
I enjoyed the writing in this book. It was easy to read even though there was that sense of urgency. There were no parts that made you want to skip it because it brought nothing to the story. Well done.
Review of Editing:
Nicely done, nothing major missing or incorrect.
Review of Cover:
It’s nice. Nothing spectacular, but the story takes care of that
Overall Review:
This was a fun read for me. I’m really into getting inside people’s minds and going through feelings with them, so this hit the spot.
There is such a sense of urgency while reading this book. You know you have to put the book down because the pot is over-boiling, but no way in hell am I putting it down. What if I miss something? That’s how I felt reading this book. You live in real time with the story and really feel like if you blink, you just missed what happened!
Review of Characters:
The characters revolted me and made me gag in some parts. Awesome! The way they act, talk and react to situations is exactly how they make you feel as you are reading it. You couldn’t help but put yourself in Frank’s mind and body. It pulls you in.
Review of Writing:
I enjoyed the writing in this book. It was easy to read even though there was that sense of urgency. There were no parts that made you want to skip it because it brought nothing to the story. Well done.
Review of Editing:
Nicely done, nothing major missing or incorrect.
Review of Cover:
It’s nice. Nothing spectacular, but the story takes care of that
Overall Review:
This was a fun read for me. I’m really into getting inside people’s minds and going through feelings with them, so this hit the spot.
March 28, 2012
See more of my reviews at Bettering Me Up.
I have absolutely no idea how to rate this book. I liked it, but it was...different.
What I liked:
1. The writing. It was descriptive without being flowery and it matched the tone and the pacing of the story.
2. The editing. Most Indie books are full of errors. It was a nice change to read something that was well-written. I only caught one instance of a missing word.
3. The intrigue. I was thoroughly confused about what was going on, but I was sucked in to the story and kept reading. And I want to know more!
4. The price. I got the Kindle version for free on Amazon. A great way to learn about a new author!
What I didn't like:
1. I'm still not sure what the point of the story is and I have a lot of unanswered questions.
Given that I liked more than I didn't like, I am giving this novella four stars. I think that this author has a lot of potential and I will definitely read more of his work should he publish anything else.
I have absolutely no idea how to rate this book. I liked it, but it was...different.
What I liked:
1. The writing. It was descriptive without being flowery and it matched the tone and the pacing of the story.
2. The editing. Most Indie books are full of errors. It was a nice change to read something that was well-written. I only caught one instance of a missing word.
3. The intrigue. I was thoroughly confused about what was going on, but I was sucked in to the story and kept reading. And I want to know more!
4. The price. I got the Kindle version for free on Amazon. A great way to learn about a new author!
What I didn't like:
1. I'm still not sure what the point of the story is and I have a lot of unanswered questions.
Given that I liked more than I didn't like, I am giving this novella four stars. I think that this author has a lot of potential and I will definitely read more of his work should he publish anything else.
May 6, 2009
This novella is like a chocolate bunny. You read the teaser and pick it up thinking its going to be one of those really cool solid ones. But as you bite into it, you realize that you've been cheated and it's really one of the lame hollow chocolate bunnies that crumbles in your hands and is made from chocolate that tastes like plastic.
The idea in the teaser was pretty interesting--a guy who is an addict to changing his personality through injections. I expected the novella to explore "meaning of life" ideas, but all it did was putter around and never got into any depth at all--both concerning the personality injections and the "self-discovery" the book advertised. If one didn't read the teaser, you probably wouldn't even know what the book was supposed to be about. Waste of time, but the idea had potential.
The idea in the teaser was pretty interesting--a guy who is an addict to changing his personality through injections. I expected the novella to explore "meaning of life" ideas, but all it did was putter around and never got into any depth at all--both concerning the personality injections and the "self-discovery" the book advertised. If one didn't read the teaser, you probably wouldn't even know what the book was supposed to be about. Waste of time, but the idea had potential.
March 22, 2010
There is something about books that give us a window into the darker edges of the extremes of the human mind. I have always loved movies and stories that proffer this view.
In Broken Bulbs we follow the main character, for I debate with myself about whether to call him a protagonist or antagonist, since he is the one fighting himself, now prone to the constant desire for injections of inspiration. It quickly becomes clear that it is not the possibility of success of one of these innovations that enthralls him. Rather it is the elation and novelty of sensation this moment of innovation brings to him, not the process and then execution of it.
This is the type of insight into a disturbed, tormented, or manic character that I loved in Minute Man and longed desperately for in The Terminal Patient.
Thoroughly enjoyable.
In Broken Bulbs we follow the main character, for I debate with myself about whether to call him a protagonist or antagonist, since he is the one fighting himself, now prone to the constant desire for injections of inspiration. It quickly becomes clear that it is not the possibility of success of one of these innovations that enthralls him. Rather it is the elation and novelty of sensation this moment of innovation brings to him, not the process and then execution of it.
This is the type of insight into a disturbed, tormented, or manic character that I loved in Minute Man and longed desperately for in The Terminal Patient.
Thoroughly enjoyable.
August 7, 2014
I didn't like Broken Bulbs at all. It was all sorts of messed up and weird. I think it was one of those stories that's supposed to be a metaphor for something. If it was, it went completely over my head. I read the book, and I'm still not sure what the hell was going on.
It almost seemed like the book was trying too hard to be cool. I would label it somewhere in between hipster, and bizzaro horror. Both of those genres are incredibly difficult for me to understand. I really did enjoy the screenplay that the main character was writing. If the whole book was like that, I think I would have enjoyed it much more. I didn't care for the main character at all. I might have my friend that does guest reviews on my blog review Broken Bulbs. She usually likes those type of books. Hopefully she can understand the book better than I can, and give it a more through review.
It almost seemed like the book was trying too hard to be cool. I would label it somewhere in between hipster, and bizzaro horror. Both of those genres are incredibly difficult for me to understand. I really did enjoy the screenplay that the main character was writing. If the whole book was like that, I think I would have enjoyed it much more. I didn't care for the main character at all. I might have my friend that does guest reviews on my blog review Broken Bulbs. She usually likes those type of books. Hopefully she can understand the book better than I can, and give it a more through review.
April 26, 2014
Direct quotes from the book..
“Everything is equal, Frank. Everything is nothing. Everything is our minds interpretation of what we see and the values that we ourselves place on them. All anyone wants in their lives is something. And if we look at anything and if we chose to place any value on any thing in our lives we have something. It all exists within us. We only have what we know. And we only know what we know. And what we know is that everything is actually nothing and nothing is actually everything. Because something and nothing and everything are all the same. All nothing is something if we want it to be."
"You’re holding on
to the stuff that you
should let go and letting
go of all the stuff you
should be holding on to."
“Everything is equal, Frank. Everything is nothing. Everything is our minds interpretation of what we see and the values that we ourselves place on them. All anyone wants in their lives is something. And if we look at anything and if we chose to place any value on any thing in our lives we have something. It all exists within us. We only have what we know. And we only know what we know. And what we know is that everything is actually nothing and nothing is actually everything. Because something and nothing and everything are all the same. All nothing is something if we want it to be."
"You’re holding on
to the stuff that you
should let go and letting
go of all the stuff you
should be holding on to."
March 17, 2013
I'm a fan of anything 'off-the-beaten-path', but perhaps I'd have to have more experience with drugs or know more people who do them to give this book 3+ stars. It had moments that were really cool, and odd flows that came out of know where (I suppose the entire book could be described that way). It is the type of book to talk about and give lots of stars to, but I really want to rank my books on how much I enjoyed them and not put overwhelming weight on 'creativity' or 'artistry'.
It is a really quick read - so going based on all the good reviews it gets - it's probably still worth reading. Clearly many people love this one.
It is a really quick read - so going based on all the good reviews it gets - it's probably still worth reading. Clearly many people love this one.
November 11, 2009
After learning about Eddie Wright and Broken Bulbs on Backwordbooks.com. I immediately purchased his work. I’m always drawn to the drug tales, but Broken Bulbs is different. I realized immediately that, while the work is short, every single word and phrase was methodically placed to perfection to share Frank’s bizarre and desperate world. It’s a bit poetic, sometimes disturbing and challenging as each carefully placed phrase fits into the puzzle of Broken Bulbs. On a bookshelf, I’d sandwich it between Sartre and Denis Johnson.
November 21, 2014
I think I've actually read this novella before, because parts of it gave me some strong déjà vu. Evidently I forgot I'd read it, probably because I didn't think it was very good. It reminded me a bit of "Donnie Darko", although I don't remember that very well so take that comparison with a grain of salt.
Mostly I didn't get what the point of this book was. It didn't tell an interesting story, but it didn't seem to have any other point. Let's hope I don't inadvertently start reading it a third time!
Mostly I didn't get what the point of this book was. It didn't tell an interesting story, but it didn't seem to have any other point. Let's hope I don't inadvertently start reading it a third time!
June 11, 2009
The author befriended me in Goodreads and asked that I review his book. I went to his site and read about the issues surrounding self-publishing and how the book came about. I downloaded the book but didn't get around to reading it for many months.
Alas, I was at a client's site with no network access and some downtime, saw this novella on my hard drive, and started reading. I couldn't stop once I started. I found it to be a quick, fascinating read and I enjoyed it thoroughly.
Alas, I was at a client's site with no network access and some downtime, saw this novella on my hard drive, and started reading. I couldn't stop once I started. I found it to be a quick, fascinating read and I enjoyed it thoroughly.
December 31, 2007
This is a great read and very impressive for Wright's first book. The novella jumps right into the weirdness and before you know it you're half way through the book. But don't look back, as Frank Fisher struggles to find his "somethingness" you'll find yourself laughing and charmed at Wright's interesting way of entertaining you. "It's always a lovely day, for tooth decay."
October 2, 2014
This is truly a contemporary novel (circa 2011). Things that do not have to be spelled out are not. There is an awareness of the desperation of searching for something as we are inundated by well packaged nothing. A very good read.
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