Thursday, April 23, 2015


Well, it's been a tumultuous month here at the Hopeless Books ranch, what with the mad psychiatrists running around tying your humble proprietor to chairs and all—and why is it that the less money your company makes, the harder it is to find an unpaid intern? The one I had died of malnutrition so I was having the cat fetch me Starbucks—so I didn't post the release of Paul Bingham and Emril Krestle's gorgeous split single BLACK HOUSE ROCKED till AFTER the first review rolled in. Well, vwah-lahhh:

And said review was written by the likes of James O'Meara, no less. He has a way with book reviews. It pisses some people off, but if you don't have any enemies you're doing this thing wrong.

Oooh, and he liked it. Score! 

An excerpt:

Jackson’s ensuing adventures are a kind of blood-drenched Magic Theater, a tour of the Western Lands under the guidance of el hombre invisible himself. I must confess, I rather missed our grittier, down-home visit with Jackson and his fellow small town glue huffers, but Bingham’s way with language keeps you going on.

Some lines are worthy of Chandler himself:

“He likes to live in a nutshell. All complete, but can’t hit back, when the world starts cracking.”

And check this out: I am apparently "one of the leading voices of the anti-natalist movement," saith O'Meara. Some may find this a dubious compliment, but I wear it with stinking, rancid, human pride.

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