Skip to main content

Free Stuff!

We all love free things.

Sadly I have none to give away. Hey, I'm just your average, lowly, poorly paid reader-type, easily bought off with shiny goodies or the promise of a job where I don't have to use tools like the toe-jam brush or come home smelling like rotting beef carcasses. 


Washing and stamping beef carcasses (3718635976)
It's quitting time!
However, if you should ever find yourself with a stack of brand-new proofs, or books you've just released, you know, super-lead titles, future prize-winning fiction, classic sci-fi novels and so forth, then, rather than wasting them on booksellers and wholesalers (cos they'll just use them to prop open fire doors) you should consider giving them a home they will love. Failing that, send them to me. 

You can get in touch through the comments below, via Twitter or by sending me a polite and fawning email. I'll do the rest. Except of course for mailing the book, which you'll still have to do.

Now, the disclaimer thingamabobs.

  • Any books sent to me to read and review will be done so at the sender's cost
  • I cannot possibly promise to read and review every book I receive, but I will try to provide a credit to every book and sender somewhere on these pages.
  • I cannot possibly promise to give your book a good or positive review. I haven't read it yet. I will try to look at the good points, and constructively criticise the bad bits, within my abilities so to do. If you are afraid I won't like it, and will post a scathing review, take heart - I'm much too soft to do that. Please refer to the Kurt Vonnegut quote about suits of armour etc. - it's at the end of the review.
  • If you have a time-frame for a review, please let me know from the outset, as otherwise I might be too distracted by biscuits or football to notice things like publishing dates, mass media advertising campaigns and so forth.


I'm just a sucker for a good story. So send me yours.


Comments

What Readers Are Reading

The Perfect Fool by Stewart Lee

The One from the Other by Philip Kerr

Philip Kerr is an author I have been reluctant to attempt to review for some time. His Berlin Noir trilogy cost me some hours of sleeplessness and in the end I decided to skip a review and just be happy to have read it and therefore move it from the pile of unread novels, via the edge of my desk where the “to review” pile occasionally falls over on to the typewriter and spills my pen pot across the floor and thus causes significant risks when stumbling blindly about the room at night too drunk to remember where my bed is or having just been jolted awake by the boy shrieking from the next room and running asleep into walls and doors, to the back half of my giant Ikea bookcase where novels that have been read and have caused my self-esteem to shatter on the diamond-hard edges of someone else’s talent currently reside, gathering dust and moisture until hitting the mildew tipping point and becoming physically dangerous in their own right. This awesome crew consists mainly of Will Self, Jo…

Universal Harvester by John Darnielle

Not surprisingly, like a lot of John Darnielle’s music, particularly those songs on the album The Sunset Tree (Pale Green Things springs to mind and is very much worth listening to), his writing only slowly reveals itself and its narrative direction. Not in any turgid or tedious fashion, but rather in an unhurried, gentler and more thoughtful way. Universal Harvester rolls gently along its path with only a few disconcerting and probably deliberate hiccups. It starts in Iowa in the 1990s with a young man, still living at home with his father but unable to leave because of the weight of his mother’s death, years before, in a car crash. The trauma tethers Jeremy and his father together like the gravitational pull of a dead star in a comfortable and predictable but numb orbit, but it’s never something that either of them can discuss openly.
Jeremy works at a VHS rental store, so we’re assuredly early-Worldwide Web era. His job is simple, repetitive, and keeps him and his father in entertai…

Concrete by Thomas Bernhard

I thought I'd talked about Thomas Bernhard here somewhere before - the vitriol, the bitterness, the hilarity that was Old Masters - but it appears not, or, more likely, that I search like I think; superficially. Nevertheless, at least I now have the opportunity to present him for your consideration, albeit with the oily glaze of my opinion applied liberally. 

An Austrian author and playwright, Bernhard had a curious relationship with the land of his birth. He was highly critical of both the people and state, regularly attacking the church, the government, the populace (who he labelled stupid and stubbornly contemptuous) and venerable old institutions like the concert halls and cultural venues of Vienna. Indeed, in his will, he strictly forbade any new productions of his works, both unpublished novels and poems, and stagings of his plays. His characters often deliver long monologues filled with bile and spite, frequently inhabiting considered but oddly irrational-seeming positions. …