Top Ten Books I Read in 2023

2023 was not the strongest years for me reading books, quantity-wise, but I still read several things that I really loved. It’s totally unfair to group non-fiction and fiction together but I’m still going to do it, anyway, because if I separated them it’d be hard to even get a top 5 non-fiction books for me this time around.

1. Our Appalachia edited by Laurel Shackelford and Bill Weinberg

This is in many ways the holy grail for me. A book that covers extensively several areas of special interest to me in Appalachian history and culture: the Primitive Baptists, ginseng digging, trapping, logging via floating logs down rivers, mountain politics, etc. A lot of the book is concerned with coal mining and labor history, as a book of this nature should be but it does not ignore non-coal Appalachia, either. Highly recommended.

2. Wiseguy by Nicholas Pileggi

Goodfellas is one of my favorite movies so I thought this book would be good but I couldn’t imagine it would be better. But I think it is.

3. No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

My first McCarthy. I chose this because I loved the movie and figured it would be easier read than some of his other books. A beautifully written, dark-as-hell neo-western noir. There are things he does with the language in this that is jaw-dropping. Turns out, and I’d heard this beforehand, the film adaptation is one of the straightest adaptations ever made.

4. The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara

When I was twelve or thirteen, I read his son Jeff Shaara’s sequel The Last Full Measure. I remember loving it but not much about the book. I knew this would be good. It was fantastic. The chapter on Pickett’s Charge is a phenomenal piece of writing with a hell of a moving end. There are some flaws in my mind: Shaara takes a very romantic view of Robert E. Lee, in general doesn’t put enough attention on slavery, and was apparently based heavily on James Longstreet’s memoirs, which comes in across in how sympathetic and correct he seems in the book versus everyone else. But still worth it if you know anything about the Civil War yourself, if you don’t take it as the gospel truth.

5. Buried Child by Sam Shepard

Hey, I like to read plays. In fact, I much prefer reading them to watching them. Admittedly, I’ve never seen a good performance of a play. This is what you get for living in Kentucky for you entire life. Buried Child is an excellent half-absurdist black comedy family drama. At times sinister and moving.

6. L.A. Confidential by James Ellroy

A marvelous but messy epic crime novel with a remarkable style. The things he does with his rhythm, his character work, and his pace are intimidating, frankly. How the man can take such at-times reprehensible protagonists and make them sympathetic successfully is beyond me. Often deeply unpleasant. But rewarding.

7. Hill William by Scott McClanahan

Scott McCalanahan is probably my favorite contemporary author. This is one of the hardest, saddest, and most emotionally draining books I’ve ever read. It deals very deeply with child-on-child sexual abuse and its unflinching in its trauma. But told in that idiosyncratic McClanahan style.

8. Coogan’s Trade by George V. Higgins

Now we’re getting into the pulp, which is what I mostly read, anyway. This book was turned into the movie Killing Me Softly. It’s not as good as The Friends of Eddie Coyle but it’s still really good. Higgins could have basically cut all description and action lines and just tell a story in dialogue if he had wanted to. He comes close to that at times here.

9. The Pusher by Ed McBain

The third 87th Precinct book and my favorite so far. Just a banger of a police procedural. I don’t know how much of any influence these books were on Homicide: Life on the Street, if any, but it sures feels like it could have inspired that show.

10. The American Revolution edited by Hugh Rankin

A history book pieced together by first-hand accounts of the events in question. A kind of literary oral history. Very interesting, if less comprehensive than I may have wanted. But you can’t everything in one book, now can you?

Ten Short Stories I Loved in 2023

This year was the first year I ever actually tried to read the markets I try to submit short stories to. It is elementary advice that you should read where you submit and I’ve ignored it for years. But now that I’m doing it more, I see that it really is rewarding. Not only do you get a feel for what each particular market’s editorial taste is, you realize that 90% of short stories published are rather mediocre, and that 10% that is good is really fucking good. Something to aspire to.

This are not ranked in any way. It wouldn’t be fair to do that, short stories blend together a little more than books, which I spend more time with. These are just ten short stories that I thought were awesome.

“All the Ways to Hollow Out a Girl” by Gwendolyn Kiste in PseudoPod – A great and really dark story about a girl who is “accidentally” murdered by a trio of teenaged boys but comes back to life and how they continue to murder her regularly for the sake of their sadistic fun. (Podcast)

“The Captive River” by C.T. Muchemwa from PodCastle – Excellent African fantasy story that reminds me of Neil Gaiman in its storytelling, but obviously a lot of that is from what he has been influenced by from world folklore. Moved me in several places. (Podcast)

“The Chamber of the All-Seeing Eye” by Liam Hogan in The NoSleep Podcast – Gruesome medieval horror story about battlefield scavengers collecting eyeballs for a lord with eldritch interests. (Podcast)

“The Dragon Killer’s Daughter” by MacKenzie R. Snead from PodCastle – Excellent fantasy about a senile zealot dragonhunter, his tough, loyal, indoctrinated daughter, and the truth behind the dragons he’s been killing all his life. (Podcast)

“Games Without Frontiers” by Andy Dudak from Asimov’s Science Fiction May/June 2023 – Excellent story about future high tech simulation storytelling as an actor inhabits an 80s spy thriller. (Print)

“The Hagfish Has Three Hearts” by Monica Joyce Evans from Escape Pod – Really interesting sci-fi story where whales have grown sentient and the main character can talk with them and has hagfish parts implanted in her and serves as translator between whales and humans. (Podcast)

“If Pages Could Blush” by Kyle A. Massa from Unidentified Funny Objects 9 – A really funny story about a magical library where all the books are sentient and the Necronomicon escapes and elopes with Alice in Wonderland. (Print)

“Lavender, Juniper, Gunpowder, Smoke” by Alyson Grauer in Cast of Wonders – Very good story about a young witch-type who manifests a wax dragon while dealing with a pack of schoolgirl bullies. Like Buffy the Vampire Slayer – not in terms of action-adventure, which is very much not what this story is, but in terms of heartfelt authentic high school dynamics mixed with magic. (Podcast)

“Murder Mnemonic” by Loretta Sue Ross from Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine May/June 2023 – Great, funny little story about a man who was murdered and reincarnated into a little boy who has memories of his murder. This little three-year-old who knows too much but is still just a little kid and his family investigate the murder. (Print)

“Taylor Swift” by Hugh Behm-Steinberg from The Drabblecast – A really hilarious flash fiction story about Taylor Swift robots. (Podcast)

Review: A Children’s Theater Production of Reservoir Dogs

Last night, in a bold change from their usual fare, the Lexington Children’s Theatre premiered their stage adaptation of Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs. 

It was sooooo adorable.

Timmy Bledsoe, age 8, may have stammered a bit through Mr. Brown’s Big Dick Madonna Monologue, but he conquered his speech impediment once his mother rushed onstage and squeezed his arm fat for embarrassing her.

Few moments in recent children’s theater history have been as undeniably cool as the sight of seven little boys and one little girl pretending to be a fat old man walking in fake slow motion across to the stage to the George Baker Selection’s “Little Green Bag”.

Unfortunately, during the slow walk, Carter Parker, age 10, who portrayed Mr. White with a remarkably measured intensity, accidentally swallowed his toothpick. The show went on once a doctor in the house examined Carter backstage and said he just might be able to pass it.

Emir Seddigh, age 8, who last season debuted as the mildest bad kid in The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, was here much less threatening as Mr. Orange. However, he really sold his gutshot. He is method trained. Emir ate 3 days old McDonald’s hotcakes to get into character.

Mr. Pink, played by Will Washington, age 10, dripped with all the nervous energy of a candle held above the chest of a theater reviewer by an escort. He even looked a bit like Steve Buscemi (thyroid issues). However, he did have some trouble remembering his more racist lines.

Jason Mangola, age 11, was the true breakout star of the night. Every mother, father, aunt, uncle, sister, brother, cousin, nanny, and substitute choir teacher felt a rush when his Mr. Blonde butted tough guy heads with Mr. White. And most of us gasped when he threateningly picked his nose.

Across the board, the special effects were quite remarkable. Billy Hemsdale, age 6, otherwise miscast as the tortured cop, was badly burned in an apartment fire two years ago so it looked pretty convincing when they cut that Play-Doh ear off the side of his head.

I won’t spoil the plot twist to a twenty-five-year-old movie but Mr. Orange did. While laying in a pool of his own blood and watching Mr. Blonde tap dance, he kept saying, “I’m a cop, I’m a cop, I’m a cop.” Then, after he shot Mr. Blonde multiple times in the chest, added, “Told ya.”

The extended flashback that signals the third act of the play appears to have temporarily confused even the actors. Director Claudette Lykins had to rush onstage and say, “Take your places, children. We’re going to reveal how everyone got their nicknames. Also wounded.”

Darin Renault, age 5, was more like Extra Nice Guy Eddie when he graciously burst into tears after stepping on Mr. White’s line. At one point, his tracksuit got snagged on his prop gun. The audience may have hurt his feelings a teeny bit when they laughed when they saw his tighty whities.

After the Mexican standoff was over and every child onstage played dead, a sinking sort of social reality forced me to reconsider my previous enjoyment of this gratuitously violent play that forced children to say bad, sexist, and racist things while holding handguns.

The Lexington Children’s Theatre should never have staged a production of Reservoir Dogs in the first place! 

Because it is completely inappropriate . . . how they ripped off the Children’s Theatre of Cincinnati’s production of City on Fire!

Sure, most people haven’t seen that obscure Hong Kong crime film or its even more obscure Midwestern children’s theater stage adaptation, but I have and I will never not bring it up now.

Next month: Charlotte’s Silky Love Nest.

Smartscroll Apps for Generic Fantasy Settings

My humor piece Smartscroll Apps for Generic Fantasy Settings has been published on The Haven.

It is something I wrote back in 2020 and gave up on after one rejection. That is ill-advised self-defeatism and something I’m trying to not do to myself in the future.

If you’re like me, it’s hard to get past the notion that your work is not worth much. But if you’re going to take the time to make something, you might as well take the time to get it out there.

Ten Things to Do Instead of Going Out to Get A Pack of Cigarettes

Note: This was the first humor piece I ever wrote in 2015. Two things in this have changed since then: Conan was half-cancelled and so were my grandparents (RIP grandpa).

I am out of cigarettes. I should be grateful that I am out of cigarettes because cigarettes are evil, evil things that are trying to kill me slowly. (I am generally grateful when I run out of medieval torturers). But I cannot be grateful because I am an addict and addicts are never grateful, not even when you loan them twenty bucks out of the kindness of your stupid, enabling heart.

I could go get cigarettes. I have a key and a car and if I put the key in the car the car will even start sometimes. But I have temporarily moved in with my grandparents (not so that I can take care of them in their old age but so that they can take care of me in their old age) and they live fifteen minutes away from the nearest open gas station.

Fifteen minutes is long enough to take your time while taking shit and short enough that people don’t necessarily assume you’ve died. In fifteen minutes time, I could make love to fifteen women for thirty seconds apiece and still have half a minute to apologize to each of them in turn, or take seven and a half minutes to apologize to them all at once.

But fifteen minutes are also fifteen opportunities for fifteen depressed deer to commit murder-suicide on me. (There is a real mental health crisis in the deer community that no one except a few marginalized game wardens seem to want to talk about.)  I also have very little money that isn’t already earmarked for various pyramid schemes, massage parlor visits, and junkie friends.

In order to keep my mind off the ashtray balanced on the arm of my soul’s recliner, I will now list ten things that I can do instead of going out to get a pack of cigarettes:

  1. I can masturbate.
  2. I can eat something if I can find something that something else hasn’t already eaten. (Sippy cups were not designed with young Damiens in mind.)
  3. I can watch Conan on mute and try to guess when the guest dives into the bit they worked out before the taping, and estimate how well that bit goes over with the studio audience solely through the rate of peripheral eye-flicks.
  4. I can rearrange the baby photos of my father and his brothers and sisters from in chronological order to in alphabetical order and barely confuse my grandparents since they named all their children names that start with the letter D.
  5. I can listen to the air conditioner with my eyes closed and try to discern messages in the white noise.
  6. I can shine a flashlight on the cats on the back porch and see if any of them are possum or if any of them just play possum or if any of them are, in fact, dead.
  7. I can take all the ice cubes out of the ice cube tray and refill it with water and put it back in the freezer and wait fifteen minutes and then crack it up again.
  8. I can play with the pimple on my shoulder that isn’t quite ready to pop yet so that it will be nice and primed (and yellow) tomorrow.
  9. I can walk outside and look up at the stars and think about the meaning of life and the meaninglessness of death and see if there are any big enough butts left out in the yard.
  10. I can masturbate again. 

(I will probably masturbate again.)

Originally published on the now defunct The Higgs Weldon.