To coincide with one of the summer’s last big movies, I’m revisiting a few series that have not been covered in a long time, and two of which left serious bad tastes in my mouth. So let’s delve into another column of guns and explosions while we bask in that testosterone fest called EAT PRAY LOVE. (To be honest, there was only one summer movie I went to and that was INCEPTION. My mind is still spinning … wondering how Ellen Page still gets acting jobs.)
DEATH MERCHANT #38: THE BURNING BLUE DEATH by Joseph Rosenberger — How this series lasted so long is a head-scratcher. I figured it must have improved since the first , but no, this 1980 entry is just as much of a mess as the last one I read. Richard Camellion, aka The Death Merchant, is still as bland, jumping from country to country with his weapons.
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Ben Bova, one of our elder statesmen of science fiction, has spent the better part of his prolific career tracing humanity’s destiny towards other planets and beyond. So THE HITTITE, a historical novel of ancient Greece, might seem strange at first.
But his truly devoted readers know that several titles in his “Orion” series involve a time traveler exploring parts of the unexplained past. This new work leaves out any sci-fi trappings and instead presents the story of the Trojan War from the point of view of an outsider.
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War is the theme this week, and without even realizing it, all three books take place during World War II. These are three varying looks upon that war, with a take on what Army life was like; some sheer, over-the-top action; and, to kick it off, the perfect example of a must-read.
BAMBOO GUERILLAS by Guy N. Smith — I’ve never laughed harder while reading a book in my life. Wait, it was supposed to be taken seriously? This 1977 novel is actually from the very prolific Smith, whose horror output is one of the huge influences of GARTH MARENGHI’S DARKPLACE, a show which has to be watched by one and all.
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When you write a fictional account of a real event, you better have the facts straight. With SNOWBOUND, Richard S. Wheeler is definitely up for the challenge. The story is based on not only a real person, explorer John Charles Frémont, but one of his darkest episodes in his life.
That episode can only be described as a disaster of epic proportions. For those unfamiliar, Frémont’s fourth expedition dealt with trying to find a railway route on the 38th parallel, but got stuck in the snowy Colorado mountains. It seems Frémont was definitely a man who could not be swayed from what he thought was a brilliant idea, even if it wasn’t.
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No, with that title, this column is not turning into some weekly affirmation. I’m talking about that red, sticky stuff that flows within us all: blood. I’ve got three books to cover this week that all have blood in common, and usually, there is a lot spilled. First up is a book where once I found out who the real author was, it really pissed me off, since his writing was central to my youth.
BALZAN OF THE CAT PEOPLE #1: THE BLOOD STONES by Wallace Moore — I grew up reading tons of science fiction — good and bad, did not matter. I found it funny that the bad stuff was always more fun to read. But I’ve never come across one that truly deserves the title of “worst book ever” in any genre. Sure, I’ve covered more than my share of stinkers, but wow, did I really hit bottom with this 1975 one.
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