His abs can hypnotize people, and that’s why they appear on the covers of romance novels worldwide. He’s in-demand and life is good for him. But what about for his abs? Did he bother to ask them if they wanted the spotlight? Of course not. The truth is they’re sick of it. All the dieting and crunches. They want more out of life, so they vamoose, forcing poor Fabulo to replace them with something altogether different and altogether disgusting, an all new…
Slave to nobody Slave to no body Free to dance Free to fuck Free to run amok amok amok
Have you ever stopped to ask yourself: Where would your feet go if they weren't stuck carrying your ass around? How would your eyeballs behave if they could look at anything they wanted? What would your hands do if they weren't perpetually harnessed to your own pointless tasks of jerking off and writing bad book reviews?
Let's be real here: They'd probably be doing something equally just as pointless. But at least they'd be free...
M.P. Johnson understands the oppressed, the marginalized, their need to break away. It shows through in his writing. He also understands the trade-offs, the consequences of emancipation, the implications inherent in exercising one's agency. This is how he can write such a ludicrous gross-out parody of the world's most famous romance cover model (and his abs) while somehow harnessing the full-bore ridiculousness of the proceedings to matters of real import.
The characters are cartoonishly freakish, yet unmistakably human inside. They struggle with freedom and control, dominance and subservience. They assimilate and dissipate, experimenting with new identities and forms. They experience all of the hope and regret, the agony and ecstasy that comes with living an authentic life, or at least in making the attempt. Some achieve a modicum of success, others fail miserably at it, but what's important is that they try.
I mean, what else can we really do, anyway? One thing you can do is go and read this book. I'm done with it now, so if you'll excuse me...
MP Johnson is the Queen of Gross-Out Bizarro, and this book (the story of a Fabio-esque model, whose abs leave his body and attempt to forge a life of their own) is HEAVY on the slime, and guts, and violence, and...well...batshit insanity that makes Johnson’s writing such a joy to read. While the moral of the story sometimes gets trampled beneath rapidfire over-the-top scenes, there is certainly a heart (among other parts) to this tale, and the journey of Fabulo and his rogue abs is one of transformation, freedom, and acceptance. If that theme isn’t universal to everyone, then I don’t know what is. Fun and freaky, this book was a great time! Just bring a barf bag.
Seriously twisted, yet so much fun. With each new book, M.P. Johnson just seems to blow my mind even more, consistently improving his craft. This was the first straight bizarro book I have read in a little while that really felt like all of the pieces were in the right place. He expertly balances the cartoon-like and the gross with truly tangible feelings and experiences. Great stuff.
Sick Pack was unlike any other Bizarro novel that I have read. I think what set it apart was how it is easily the closest thing to pure Bizarro I've had the pleasure to read. It has abs that are so perfectly formed they have developed the power of hypnotism, underground cosmetic surgery that is performed in a garden shed, a giant mustache that is also a grimy black market body parts dealer, a hardcore band composed entirely of runaway appendages, and my personal favorite a ravenous stomach that likes to feast on faces. M.P. Johnson has penned a novel that is raunchy, funny, violent, and wildly imaginative. The violence to me was not over the top and necessary to the plot. There is an underlying theme that trying to hold on to someone or something that wants to be free is unfair to everyone, but most importantly, underneath all the mayhem, Johnson tells us that it's OK to be satisfied with who we are and that it's our imperfections that make us unique.
What in the world have I just read? I don't know what I feel about SICK PACK, but I THINK I liked it? Anyway, it was as much fun as it was exhausting, shifting from absurd comedy to body horror to dadaism and surrealism. MP Johnson doesn't have anything to envy to Salvador Dali's artistic vision as his world is populated with antropomorphic being, sentient body organs and hollow celebrities. Seriously, by the time I wrapped my mind around what I was reading, it was transforming into something completely different. There is a narrative mastery to MP Johnson's writing, but I would like to read him in a more sustained, classic form because books like SICK PACK, while being great for what they are and completely balls out, are way too crazy for me to read on a regular basis.
This is the most purely bizarro story I've read in quite some time. I will be doing a more in depth review of this book on an upcoming episode of Books, Beer and Bullshit Podcast.
Who in the name of Phyllis's ballz, you may ask, would think to write a book about a narcissistic romance novel cover model whose abdominal muscles abs-cond his torso in a quest for freedom? M.P. Johnson, that's who--which is exactly why he is now my all-time favorite bizarro writer.
There's no way I could write a review that fully encapsulates the weirdo perfection of this book. The descriptions (take the belly-beast, for example. WOW!); the characters; the names; just...everything, and the quotes are endless (my favorite, from a booger-mongering cat: "Look! It's a message from my doodlebanger!")
Just wait 'til you read that one in context.
Beginning the book, I doubted whether such brilliant weirdness could be sustained throughout the novel's entirety, but it held strong and then some. I cared about the characters, I was grossed out, I was enthralled, I laughed a hell of a lot and gasped even more.
Seriously. If you like truly, truly weird books, get ready for your newest obsession.
In a story of acceptance, belonging, and the lacks thereof, Fabulo is liberated of his majestic and hypnotic abs. What ensues is an investigative journey through an LA landscape of fodder and putrescence. M.P. Johnson crafts a tale wrought with a varied take on the conditionality of the physical form.
His abs can hypnotize people, and that’s why they appear on the covers of romance novels worldwide. He’s in-demand and life is good for him. But what about for his abs? Did he bother to ask them if they wanted the spotlight? Of course not. The truth is they’re sick of it. All the dieting and crunches. They want more out of life, so they vamoose, forcing poor Fabulo to replace them with something altogether different and altogether disgusting, an all new…