The most excellent Lethe Press unveiled the cover and table of contents for my upcoming collection earlier today. The Kissing Booth Girl and Other Stories contains fifteen stories (eleven reprints, and four brand spanking new). Follow the link to see the full ToC at Lethe Press’ site. The cover is stunningly gorgeous, and I could not be happier with the way it turned out. The artist is Reiko Murakami. Do yourself a favor and browse through her portfolio; her work is incredible. The collection should make its way into the world in October. In the meantime, here is the aforementioned cover. Isn’t it beautiful? I can’t wait to hold a copy in my hands!
Summer is upon us. With the exception of the occasional minor drop in temperature, the days are full of warm weather and sunshine, at least in these parts. Since it stays light so much longer, there are extra hours to sit outside and read. Whether you’re on a porch swing, sipping a cool drink while the bees bumble lazily by, or stretched out on a beach towel listening to the surf crash, summer is a glorious time to get lost in a book. Of course, to be fair, any season is a glorious time to get lost in a book. Anyway, regardless of season, here are a few recent books I’ve thoroughly enjoyed and perhaps you might enjoy them, too.
Since 2004, E. Catherine Tobler has been spinning incredible tales of Jackson’s Unreal Circus and Mobile Marmalade. Now, with The Kraken Sea, published by Apex Books, readers can go back to the beginning and see where it all began. As an infant, Jackson was left in a daffodil box at the steps of an orphanage. As a young man, he boards a train, bound for Chicago and a new life, along with several other orphans. Jackson isn’t like the other children, however. There’s something inside him, something terrible and powerful and wonderful. He struggles to keep it hidden, but sometimes he can’t help himself. He unfolds, and scales and tentacles burst forth from human skin. As he struggles to control his nature, Jackson is thrust into his new life as an errand boy at Macquarie’s working for Cressida, an imposing woman who runs a good portion of the town. There are shadows at Macquarie’s, things Jackson may or may not be meant to see, and questions he certainly shouldn’t ask. He’s mean to do his job, keep his head down, and stay out of the neighboring territory run by the Bell family. Of course, he does none of those things, particularly after he meets Mae, the youngest of the Bell children, a lion tamer in a burlesque show that is at once fantastic, terrifying, and brutal. Jackson finds himself drawn deeper into the intrigue between the rivals who run the city, and the darkness that runs under it. Like Jackson himself, there are things hidden beneath the city’s skin, waiting to burst free, and nothing is what it seems. The Kraken Sea is a gorgeous novel, alive with sensory detail, and imagery that will steal your breath away. There is darkness under every glittering surface, but a darkness that begs to be explored. While the Kraken Sea stands alone, it hints at a larger world, at Jackson’s future, and the many dimensions of his character and his story. It’s a novel about love and family, loss and pain, and finding a place in the world. And, of course, binding everything, Tobler offers up the first tantalizing glimpses of her circus, calling you to run away and partake of its wonders.
I first encountered Claire Humphrey’s Spells of Blood and Kin by hearing her read an excerpt at Readercon, and I was immediately hooked. Spells of Blood and Kin is a werewolf novel, except it isn’t at all, and it’s so much more. The word werewolf is never once mentioned, leaving room for everything else Humphrey weaves into the story. There’s Russian folklore, magic, and witches, but in its deepest heart of hearts, it’s a story about family – the one you find, the one you make, and the one you’re born into. As the story opens, Lissa is dealing with the sudden death of her grandmother. Lissa’s grandmother provided spells, cures, and healing for the local Russian community, and now Lissa must take on her role, while trying to maintain the semblance of a normal life and not let anyone know she’s a witch. This complicated by her stepsister, Julia, showing up out of the blue, determined to help Lissa because family – no matter how distant – needs to stick together. Even further complicating things, a man named Maksim comes to Lissa, claiming her grandmother knew him and owed him a debt. He says he is kin, but explains very little other than that he needs very powerful magic to control a dark and violent aspect of himself that her grandmother’s magic helped keep dormant. The their stories run in parallel – Lissa working to find a magic strong enough to put the wolf in Maksim back to sleep, while Maksim works to track down, tame, and train Nick, a young man he bit and accidentally turned – and of course, they eventually collide. As the title implies, the themes of kinship and blood echo throughout the novel. In Maksim’s case, family is those with whom he shares the horror of an existence tied to violence and pain. Before accidentally turned Nick, he purposely turned Gus, a young woman who would have died without his his intervention. They are pack, a family, dealing with their violent nature by turning their brutality against each other, rather than hurting someone they could actually break. Rather than romanticizing the animal nature of the kin, in Maksim Humphrey gives us a character who is truly haunted by his past actions, physically pained by his drive to hurt others, and desperate to shed that part of himself. In fact, all the characters in Spells of Blood and Kin have aspects of themselves they would rather keep hidden, from what they see as necessity, but they must learn to trust each other – something which is not easy for any of them. Humphrey flips several tropes in her characterization, which is another of the novel’s strengths. Despite her role as a healer, Lissa is one of the most closed off characters. Instead of being nurturing and drawn to others, she does her best to isolate herself. Maksim, a former soldier and a boxer, wants nothing more than to shed the violence of his past, while Gus embraces the freedom that comes with being kin. She tempers it with alcohol and fighting, she knows her limits and how to exercise self-control, but she has no interest in denying or burying the animal part of her. Nick starts as seemingly harmless, a slacker, but once he’s bitten he embraces the wrong parts of being kin. He tries to control those around him using his new superior strength. His life before being bitten was stagnant; as change is forced upon him, and he uses that change to try to resist the larger forward progress of his life so he never has to grow up and start acting like a responsible adult. Overall, Spells of Blood and Kin is a fantastic novel. It’s also Humphrey’s debut, and I can’t wait to see what she does next.
Sword and Star is the third and final book in Sunny Moraine’s Root Code trilogy. I’ve raved about the others – Line and Orbit, Fall and Rising, and the related-yet-stand-alone book, Labyrinthian – in various places before. Sword and Star is no exception. In addition to be a satisfying wrap-up to the series, the final book in the trilogy builds on the first two in a way that expands the universe in which they’re written. Everything feels bigger in Sword and Star – the stakes are higher, the world larger, and every decision carries more weight. Taken together, the three books can be compared to a single camera shot, continuously pulling back so more and more of the world fills the frame. Line and Orbit was a fairly personal story, focused primarily on Adam and Lochlan, their budding relationship, and the immediate danger to both their lives. Fall and Rising broadened the focus, showing the way Adam and Lochlan’s decisions in the first book impacted those around them, their friends and loved ones, as well as people they barely knew, but who they would come to call allies. Fall and Rising also deepened and matured Lochlan and Adam’s relationship, taking it from the heat of battle and passion to a more complicated and contemplative level as they learned to live with each other, and learned who each of them were alone and together, in battle and outside of it. Now, in Sword and Star, the camera is zoomed all the way out, showing the larger consequences of the actions begun in Line and Orbit as they ripple across the galaxy to touch alien planets, shake the foundation of the government back on earth, and threaten to tear the fleet apart. Lochlan and Adam’s relationship has expanded as well, encompassing the possibility of loss in a new way as they both change and grow, and deal with their own pain and challenges. The emphasis is less on the immediacy of sex and romance, and more on the consequences of love, how it makes people vulnerable and stronger all at the same time. This idea is echoed in multiple relationships across the novel – Kae and Leila, Rachel and Aarons, Kyle and Eva. Friendships are tested, limits are pushed, and worlds both personal and all-encompassing hang in the balance. As usual, it’s all wrapped in Moraine’s gorgeous prose, and while I’m sad to see this series ending, I can’t wait to see what they move onto next.
All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders perfectly captures what it’s like to be an awkward kid precisely at the age when everyone is doing their best to fit in, be liked, and present some kind of face to the world that will allow them to be accepted. Patricia is a witch who discovered her power at a young age after rescuing a bird and hearing it talk. Laurence is a computer and science whiz who followed schematics he found online to build a two-second time machine. Both of these incidents early in their lives set them on paths that will having far-reaching consequences for their own futures, and the future of humanity as a whole. Patricia and Laurence are special, and that sets them apart, but as is often the case, their specialness sets them too far apart. Laurence’s parents want him to keep his head down, not rock the boat, and be normal. Patricia’s parents think she’s a little hooligan. None of the other kids at school like them, and by the time they reach middle school, this social ostricization throws them together and they become friends. Anders perfectly captures the cruelty of kids towards each other, and the vicious things they’ll do to those they perceive as weak in order to secure their own status in the pack. However it isn’t just kids who are cruel in Anders’ world; adults are willfully clueless, if not outright hostile at times, further isolating Patricia and Laurence. The story resists the usual chosen one narrative. While Patricia does get accepted into a magical school, the invitation only comes after weeks of being tormented on all sides, and by accepting the invitation, she essentially has to cut all ties with her family. For all this though, All the Birds in the Sky isn’t a bleak novel. The future is laced with hope to counterbalance the despair. After middle school, Laurence and Patricia find their way back into each others’ lives as adults. Patricia is struggling with her powers, constantly being told by the other witches around her to avoid Aggrandizing herself, overreaching her powers and causing something terrible to happen. Laurence is working for a billionaire, building secret super science projects and trying to access other dimensions. At the same time, he’s struggling to maintain a budding relationship with his new girlfriend who he’s terrified of losing. Anders repeatedly teases the possibility of several catastrophic outcomes from either Laurence or Patricia’s particular talents. There are world-changing events in the offing, apocalyptic even, but even as these events come to the fore, the story never loses sight of the characters. It’s the little moments of interaction, and the humor Anders laces throughout, that make the novel shine. Patricia and Laurence aren’t always kind to each other. Their relationship is complex, and it evolves over time, and it feels all the more real and human because of it. Anders manages to balance charm, quirkiness, and dark moments as deftly as she blends the magic and science within the book so none of it ever feels out of place. All the Birds in the Sky is a kind of tapestry, one woven from wool and silk, hemp and ribbon, artificial intelligence and spells, feathers and electrical wires. Taken separately, the elements seem like they’ll never form a picture, but when you step back, the result is glorious. It’s a fun book, but one full of genuine emotion as well. As with Humphrey, this is Anders’ debut novel, and I can’t wait to see what she does next.
I just finished watching American Horror Story: Asylum. Yes, I am way behind and slow to catch up. However, in case there are others like me, consider yourself duly warned: Spoilers Abound.
Overall, I found Asylum somewhat uneven. However, the cast is consistently fantastic, the visuals are striking, and I enjoy the tropes they’re playing with, so I’ll keep coming back for more. One of the things that annoyed me about the first season of American Horror Story was that the last episode felt incredibly rushed. The pacing of the second season felt off as well, and the last episode in particular seemed to take a sharp left and introduce the possibility of an unreliable narrator rather suddenly. At first, this annoyed me, but the more I thought about it, the more the decision seemed like an interesting and valid one. Throughout the second series, we see several variations on the theme of identity, disguise, and which characters have the right to speak and be believed. Dr. Arden and Sister Jude have both reinvented themselves at Briarcliff to escape their past crimes. Later, Sister Jude has her identity taken away from her, along with her authority to speak and be believed. Dr. Thredson wears a mask to become Bloodyface, and vice versa; Bloodyface wears Dr. Thredson as a mask, one that gives him credibility and access to his victims. A demon adopts Sister Mary Eunice’s body as an innocent disguise. A woman comes to Briarcliff claiming to be Anne Frank, and no one believes her. In face, almost every patient at Briarcliff has their sanity, reliability, and ability to tell truth from fantasy questioned.
So the groundwork for unreliability is there. Then, in the final episode, we see Lana Winters giving an interview where she looks back over her career as a journalist. Since her time at Briarcliff, she’s made a name for herself by unmasking corruption, and bringing down the mighty and powerful. During the interview, Lana admits to her own secret. Rather than dying at birth as she’d claimed for forty years, the child forced on her via rape, did indeed survive and she gave him up for adoption. This scene, as well as several leading up to it, begin to throw Lana’s reliability into question. She admits to bending the narrative to suit her needs and tell a better story. How many other details of her stay at Briarcliff, and her subsequent exposure of the abuse that went on there did she smooth over, change, or outright lie about to suit her needs?
The final scene of the final episode further throws Lana’s credibility into doubt. The final episode makes it clear that Lana is the overarching narrator for the season. Everything we’re told happened has been related to us through her point of view. In the final scene, we return to the 1960s, and Lana’s first encounter with Sister Jude at Briarcliff. During this conversation, Sister Jude predicts she will never see Lana again after denying her access to Briarcliff, and we see Lana walk out the door. With the possibility of Lana as an unreliable narrator established in the scenes prior to this one, the idea that everything that has been presented to us as truth all season long never happened at all. Maybe Lana walked out the door that day and never returned to Briarcliff until after the government took over, and Sister Jude was long gone. During the final scene, Sister Jude also warns Lana about ambition, telling her that it will result in Lana ending up miserable and alone. If we take the scene where Lana is being interviewed as the only truth, however, we see quite the opposite. Her ambition has gained her everything she wanted in life. She’s a trusted journalist, author of multiple bestselling books, about to be honored by the Kennedy Center, in a loving and stable relationship, and living in a beautiful house that suggests she’s very financially well off indeed.
So, instead of a character whose backstory is torture and rape, motivated by said rape to find the strength to take on the world, we are opened up to the possibility of a character who is a liar and a monster doing whatever she has to in order to achieve her goal. This includes killing off anyone who could have disputed her story. Despite the stories of demon possession, alien abduction, and serial killers, it’s possible Lana is the only murderer in the story. We really only have her word to go on. It’s possible she was never incarcerated at Briarcliff, but she was a good enough journalist to figure out that the best way to break the story wide open was to paint herself as a sympathetic survivor and victim. She was also smart enough to know that the sensational story of a serial killer would gain her international notoriety and attention. Maybe Dr. Thredson really was Bloodyface, or maybe she killed him before anyone could figure it out either way. Maybe she eliminated Kit, Sister Jude, Dr. Arden, Sister Mary Eunice, and even the Monseigneur before they could dispute her story. Maybe she never had a baby at all. Maybe Lana was indeed playing a very long game. Maybe she tracked down an orphan with a criminal record, one with a history of mental instability and planted the idea that he was Bloodyface’s son in his mind to make her case that much stronger. Maybe there never was a Wendy. Maybe.
If these things are true, it makes Lana Winters a fascinating example of the Monstrous Feminine. Unlike Grendel’s Mother, or Mrs. Vorhees, she doesn’t kill to protect or avenge her child. She kills solely for her own gain and to further her career. And unlike so many Evil Queens, Wicked Stepmothers, and Lady Macbeth, she’s never punished for her ambition, either. She gets exactly what she wants in the end, and there’s no one left to challenge her. She’s already shown us her ability to be determined and unwavering. We don’t see any evidence she’s succumb to guilt further down the road. She set out a course for herself, followed it, and in the end, she reaped her reward. Now that the last threads are tied up, all she has to do is sit back and live happily ever after.
It’s also possible I’m reading too much into things. However, I prefer the version of Lana Winters who sets a goal for herself and stops at nothing to achieve it rather than one who perpetually suffers. Regardless, it’s interesting to think about. Now, judging by my current pace, I may have some thoughts about American Horror Story: Coven to share in a year or two…
Here we are. It’s already spring somehow, although the weather seems somewhat confused about just what that means at the moment. Can you blame it? Didn’t the year just start? Time is flying, and unlike last year, I haven’t been quite as good at keeping up with recent publications. However, I have managed to read a few things published in 2016 thus far. I really dug them, and I think you might too, so please allow me to gush about them in your general direction.
The Honey Mummy by E. Catherine Tobler is either the third or the fourth book in the most excellent Folley & Mallory series, depending on how you’re counting. I want to say this is my favorite in the series thus far, but they’re all brilliant, and it doesn’t seem fair to play favorites. This book sees Eleanor Folley and Virgil Mallory return to Egypt, along with Cleo and Auberon, to unravel the mystery of a whole new set of rings. The story kicks off with a break in at Mistral, the secretive agency where Folley, Mallory, Cleo, and Auberon work. A fire in the archives at first appears to be cover for a theft, but Eleanor quickly discovers something has been left behind rather than taken. A ring, to be precise, left exactly where she will find it, made of strange material she can’t quite identify. It’s enough to intrigue her, as is an invitation to an auction taking place in Alexandria, Egypt. As with any proper adventure, things do not go as planned. The group from Mistral soon find themselves faced with a theatrical and slightly unhinged collector, a sarcophagus full of honey, a member of an elite ancient order sworn protector Egypt, and that’s just the beginning of their troubles. The discovery of the sarcophagus brings up a host of memories for Cleo, just as she was beginning to come to terms with the loss of her arms during an archaeological dig two years ago. The doctors believe that the only thing that saved her then was honey, mysteriously present in the collapsed tomb as it is in the sarcophagus here and now. As Cleo’s past and present collide, the psychological wounds of her trauma prove to be as raw as ever. The Honey Mummy is as much her story as Eleanor and Virgil’s. History is a major theme throughout the novel – the ancient sort, the personal kind, and the intersection between the two. Tobler deftly weaves the story’s threads, the larger mysteries of the plot informing and strengthening the characters as individuals and as they relate to each other as the story unfolds. Time is cyclical here, echoing the first books in the series, and the physical circularity of the rings themselves. Past and present bleed into each other, and Tobler explores the consequences of that, along with the weight of power, and the potential horror true magic can hold. History and mythology flow into each other and, as always, the whole story is soaked in gorgeous sensory detail and haunting imagery. On top of all that, it’s a kissing book, and an adventure book; a book with dastardly villainy, and tender moments. It’s a joy spending time with these characters and watching them grow, and I can’t wait for their next adventure!
Dates! An Anthology of Queer Historical Fiction is just what it says on the label – a comics/graphic anthology of queer historical fiction. This is a project that first caught my eye on Kickstarter. The cover alone was enough to make me rush to back it, and the spirit in which the anthology was assembled only made it better. In their introduction to the anthology, editors Zora Gilbert and Cat Parra state their mission for the collection – to gather queer stories from across time and around the world, with one important rule: they couldn’t be queer tragedy. They had to show queer people living happy lives, having adventures, and being active players in their own stories. The pieces in the anthology more than deliver, though most of them fall more into the realm of vignette or slice of life than full story. Proving the adage that a picture is worth a thousand words, the art speaks volumes and is worth the price of admission alone. There are a wide range of styles on offer here, from whimsical to art-deco and everything in-between. This type of project is important and worth supporting. We need more happy queer stories, and stories where queer folks are front and center, living their own lives rather than sidelined, killed off, or erased. As another bonus, according to their bios, most of the creators are young artists and writers at the beginning of their careers, which is another thing worth supporting and celebrating. Dates! is definitely an anthology worth getting your hands on.
Paper Tigers by Damien Angelica Walters is a novel about healing, about feeling broken, and what people will do to feel whole again. Years ago, Alison was caught in a terrible fire. Roughly half her body is covered in scars. She lost an eye, two fingers, and sees a physiotherapist regularly to manage her pain. She rarely goes out, and when she does, it’s at night, when no one else is around. She covers herself with a scarf and glasses, and hardly speaks to anyone except her doctors and her mother, and even then, they are the ones to initiate the conversation. However, on one of her nighttime walks, Alison happens on an antique shop that keeps hours as odd as hers, and is drawn in by a photo album in the window. She purchases the album and quickly discovers an entire world within its pages – a house she can literally visit, populated by ghosts who seem real. While she’s in the album, and for a brief time after she emerges, she’s whole. The healing doesn’t last, and her scars return, but Alison ventures into the album again and again, despite the feeling that something is terribly wrong. The album’s primary ghost, George, gives off an air of malevolence, and in the real world, she’s wasting away, neglecting to eat, and wanting nothing but to sleep. Paper Tigers could easily have been a straightforward story – hapless character finds a spooky item in a mysterious antique shop and bad things happen, but it’s so much more. The idea of a haunted photo album is a fascinating concept on its own, but on top of that, there are the hauntings within hauntings, in multiple senses of the word. The character of Alison takes the book beyond a straightforward ghost story. Her pain is real, the trauma she’s suffered coloring her entire life. Her desire to feel normal is palpable, and it makes her need for the world inside the album completely understandable. Walters doesn’t succumb to an easy, hand-waving solution where magic makes everything better. This isn’t a ‘cure narrative’, but it is one of acceptance as Alison moves toward an understanding that there are different ways to be whole. The ghosts are presented both as a genuine haunting, and a kind of addiction. Alison goes through withdrawal, she fights, she backslides. Nothing is easy or pat, and the book is stronger for it. There is some genuinely creepy imagery here, as is often found in Walters’ work, along with a thoughtful examination of pain, recovery, acceptance, and the stages of grief.
Furnace is Livia Llewellyn’s second collection, and it is every bit as dark and weird as her first (Engines of Desire: Tales of Love & Other Horrors, which I also highly, highly recommend). A sense of cosmic horror underlies Llewellyn’s tales, even when they aren’t overtly Lovecraftian. They capture the spirit of the Weird in the classic sense, and update it, injecting overt sexuality and horror in new ways. For example, In the Court of King Cupressaceae, 1982, a story original to the collection, hearkens back Algernon Blackwood’s The Willows with the idea of nature as a malevolent force. Unlike Blackwood, however, Llewellyn’s vision of nature isn’t a passive, lurking horror, but an active one, one her characters can either choose to embrace (literally) or refuse. There is an erotic edge to many of the tales, and like her first collection, desire plays dangerously close to the edge of pain and terror, often slipping over that edge. Love and want are kinds of violence, after all, with the power to tear people inside out. There is a dream-like (nightmare-like) quality to many of the stories. Haunting imagery flows throughout the collection, carrying the reader along with its power, making them willing to accept things that would be irrational in the real world, but perfectly logical in the world of the tales. Women buzz like lawn mowers, and sisters swap body parts to merge into one terrible and beautiful creature. Massive spiders occupy the penthouse floors of an impossibly tall apartment building. The subway system is a living, wanting thing. Giants rise out of the ocean and birth horrors upon the world. Many of the stories in the collection were new to me, but even in those I had read before I found myself discovering new things – previously hiddden sharp angles ready to draw blood and strange mirrors displaying warped visions of the world. It’s an incredibly strong collection, and if you’re a fan of weird fiction, horror, erotica, or just damn good stories, it’s one you should definitely read.
There are various goings on happening, now or coming up soon, so instead of a really substantive post, I’m going to tell you about them.
On April 5th at The Brooklyn Commons, I’ll be taking part in the New York Review of Science Fiction Readings’ launch party for Clockwork Phoenix 5. Clockwork Phoenix is an excellent anthology series, and the fifth entry is no exception. It’s full of fantastic stories, some of which I’ve covered in my recent Women to Read posts at SF Signal, and my Non-Binary Authors to Read posts right here on this blog. You can find the posts in question here, here, and here. Clockwork Phoenix 5 is currently available for preorder, and will be officially available as of April 5th. Starting March 18th, you can also enter to win your very own copy at Goodreads. I highly recommend grabbing a copy any way you can.
01 Publishing is currently running a Kickstarter for Whispers from the Abyss 2. As you might guess from the title, this is an anthology of Lovecraftian fiction. It contains a story a story of mine set in the same universe as Venice Burning, where R’yleh has risen, time is broken, and humanity is essentially fucked to hell. It’s a love story, of course. As part of the Kickstarter campaign, you can claim a critique from me – up to 8000 words for either a story of a novel excerpt. There’s lots of other fantastic rewards on offer, too. Go check it out!
Speaking of Kickstarters, Apex is currently working toward their second Stretch Goal for their anthology Upside Down: Inverted Tropes in Storytelling. The anthology is edited by Monica Valentinelli and Jaym Gates and packed full of fantastic authors such as Sunil Patel, Alyssa Wong, Haralambi Markov, Maurice Broaddus, Michael Underwood, and Nisi Shawl taking tropes and flipping them on their heads. Thanks to meeting the first Stretch Goal, I will be contributing an essay to the anthology all about the Heroine’s Journey and everyone’s favorite goblin sparkle fest, Labyrinth.
This March marks Lethe Press’ 15th Anniversary. To celebrate, they’re holding a massive ebook sale. Buy a minimum of three ebooks and get them for $1.50 each. For less than the price of a fancy cup of Starbucks coffee, you could get, oh, say The Ultra Fabulous Glitter Squadron Saves the World Again, along with two other fabulous titles. That includes excellent things such as Christopher Barzak’s Before and Afterlives, Richard Bowes’ Dust Devil on a Quiet Street, Where Thy Dark Eye Glances: Queering Edgar Allan Poe edited by Steve Berman, Heiresses of Russ: The Year’s Best Lesbian Speculative Fiction edited by Jean Roberta and Steve Berman, or Livia Llewellyn’s Engines of Desire.
And that’s just the tip of the highly affordable iceberg. What are you waiting for? Head on over and buy up some ebooks!
Has this ever happened to you? You find yourself sitting around the house, or at the office, or stuck in traffic, and you think to yourself, how can I get more glitter in my life? Wonder no more, my friend! The Ultra Fabulous Glitter Squadron Saves the World Again is now available as an audio book! The stories and the cocktail recipes between them are wonderfully narrated by Renata Friedman, and you can grab your very own copy at Audible or through Amazon. Now you can take glitter with you wherever you go! Planning a road trip? Let the Glitter Squadron ride shotgun! Headed to the gym? Let the Glitter Squadron make your workout fabulous! Writing an angry letter to the editor about how there are too many birds in your neighborhood? The Glitter Squadron will help soothe your rage-filled soul!
Still not convinced? Check out what these fine reviewers have to say about the collection…
Mieneke van der Salm aka A Fantastical Librarian called the collection “fun to read” “but also surprisingly touching and serious” in her review.
Derek Newman-Stille of Speculating Canada calls it “as beautifully, sparklingly camp as the title suggests” in his review.
Now you can get all that fabulous glittery goodness in audio form. As an extra bonus, listening to the book will leave your hands conveniently free for mixing up one of those aforementioned cocktail recipes so you can sip along with the gang as they save the world. If you’ve ever wanted fill your ears with glitter, there’s finally have a medically safe way to do so. Happy listening!