This collection was my first sample of Liza Cody's writing, and as an old school hardboiled fan I have to say that the selection totally blew me away. This is terrific stuff, from the word go. Cody can be funny, poignant and violent in the same paragraph. She is a master of subtle mood swings. The material collected here goes from one end to the other but never with a predictable turn or a false note. There is a rough blue collar sensitivity at work here, which is a rare pleasure these days when most popular writers concentrate on either the rich or the popular. Cody champions the underdog, with sly precision that touches on masterful.

LUCKY DIP is one of the best collections I've read, period. Fast paced, entertaining, with an underlying sense of human nature that completely sneaks up on you with it's understanted accuracy. Brilliant stuff, a great introduction to a marvelous author. Check it out.

It's impossible to describe the haunting and surreal lyricism of Jeff Mangum as expressed on this quietly magnificent recording. His vocal instrument brings to mind Dylan (Bob), but the lyrics, lingering with the ghosts of Anne Frank and Dylan (Thomas), and the somber carnival ride of sound behind it all suggest something so desolately intimate that it would be a sacrilege to draw comparisons.

"One day we will die, and our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea / but for now, we are young -- let us lay in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see."

Neutral Milk Hotel's first recording, "On Avery Island," already showed a unique talent for combining evocative literariness with eminently hummable songsmithery, underlined with soundscapes that are uncommon despite their apparent familiarity, but only on this record have they found a consistently distinctive sense of pace and rhythm that is as catchy as anything you've heard on the radio in the past decade, yet brimming with startlingly complex melodies and an evocative strength that leaves you either exhausted or exhilarated.

Veniss Underground is an entertaining, action-packed story with real characters that develop (or otherwise mutate) as the story progresses. The only problem with the narrative I found was its numerous references to other authors and artists, which probably everybody else will have a great time with (I know, I'm hard to please)! Considering all the virtues of the book it's a trivial problem: from the word go it is an astonishing and vividly written story with some of the most hallucinogenic descriptions this side of Max Ernst. Knowing something of the author's rep as a "literary" writer, it also comes across as a slight anomaly that this is also a tough in-your-face action-adventure that slithers with ease from a scene of grotesque horror to another by way of mind-enlargingly sur/real set pieces. It is a brilliantly visualized nightmare narrative that sustains its momentum, providing enjoyment for those seeking more esoteric joys as well as the casual reader hungry for a snortin' good time. So what's not to like? VanderMeer delivers the goods in more ways than you'd expect.

The immediate response to hearing Boredoms' SUPER ROOTS 6 is that it is immensely like what Faust of early to mid-70s COULD sound like today. Of course, Faust does not sound anything like this today, since they have had their own natural progression towards a more abstract sound. In a strange twist, Faust today sound more like Boredoms used to sound like in their earlier releases. But I digress.

Gone is the chaos and abstraction and in its place is a brilliantly catchy, yet monotonous hypno-beat. "9", the sixth toon, is a wonderful studio sound (re)mix cut-up of essentially a 5 second bit extended to 6 minutes -- but it holds your attention with just slight adjustments and variations. "8", track number 7, isn't, in description much besides an accelerating drumroll, but when you listen it GROWS.

So what you have in the end is a goofy masterwork, a record that is funky, surreally syrupy in the weirdest spots, minimalist bliss. It's completely unlike the earlier records and paving the way to their SUPER AE and VISION CREATION NEW SUN. Give it a try, crank the pedal, put on your earphones and zone out.

Patricia Anthony has written this novel with obviously extensive understanding of politics, gender relations, the UFO subculture and the craft of writing. It is a tragic, sad tale, filled with absurd moments and startling beauty. Her characters are vivid and surprisingly believable in their eccentricities and obsessions. Her canvas is wide and it contains a full spectrum of people whose lives (and deaths) are woven into an intricate and subtle mosaic of mystery and tragedy.

The novel is provocative science fiction, compact and quite as readable as her previous books. It is a bit eccentric, as perhaps expected, and eminently comparable to a Phil Dick novel. But you wouldn't mistake hers for his. As he was, she is. An original.

THE GREAT HYDRATION is reminiscent of the work written in the 50s & 60s by Phil Dick, Robert Sheckley and Harry Harrison - something I wouldn't have been at all surprised to have come across in an old Ace Double. One could call it old fashioned but I've always thought this type of adventure fiction to be timeless, and that loose quality which I can't put into words is something I sorely miss in "modern" sf. Perhaps it is the (purposefully) careless manner in which sciences and technologies are described as opposed to modern clank-clank, or the way aliens and humans and spacecraft and rayguns mingle amongst the scenery and plotting, not taking any room from it but being simply functional towards the storyline. The integration of this all works wonderfully and in a pleasingly straightforward manner - the wonders of the world described with careful attention, yet with brevity rather than explained in tiresome detail.

The book is also luminous, vividly portrayed in glorious colour. I saw the whole book as I read the words, and though that is often true of scenes in a book, it rarely happens to the extent it did with this: visually I saw it all as a mix of the early Tatooine segment of STAR WARS, Frank Herbert's DUNE and THE ROAD WARRIOR.

In the end it is a minor book in Bayley's body of work, but solid entertainment all the way through, with crispy clear writing, some delightfully droll humour, entertaining characters and the lot of it. It's a rare pleasure to find such a book these days.

It is Astounding! Amazing! Thrilling! But also Philosophical! Cosmological! Metaphysical!

THE FALL OF CHRONOPOLIS is possibly the most sustained single novel from Bayley's pen, juggling its numerous plots that thread through excitement and literariness with the assuredness of a zen master. The massive time-fleets, armadas of spaceships the size of cities patrol the universe and battle against their eternal enemy, The Hegemony, through the jungles of time and pastures of space. The novel is brief but packs a punch that makes you dizzy from invention. It rewards several reads for all the subtext hiding behind the obvious and exciting surface, dealing with issues like the cyclic nature of the universe, fascism and religion for the sake of high drama. It is a vivid, visceral ride through the universe that will knock your senses wide open if you're attuned to this brand of extravagance.

I saw this film some 8 years ago in a revival theatre along with most of Godard's early classics. As a part of his body of work, Les Carabiniers fits in snugly, but I would most emphatically recommend NOT to start your Godard spree with it. The film appears messy, with inconsistent pacing, strange comic interludes, baffling dialogue and pointed (but rarely obvious) commentary about the nature of war. Godard utilizes some action scenes (taking cues from Sam Fuller) and plays with the conventions of Hollywood cinema with obvious delight. Much of this is true of all his films up to WEEKEND. But at the heart of this small film there is an anger that would only resurface years later - probably due to the fact that this film was pulled from the market soon after its release (thanks to public indifference and critical vehemence, both of which are understandable reactions if you expect your standard fare from a film such as this). It is invigoratingly different, energetic to a fault, and of course pure Godard. It doesn't have (m)any familiar faces in it, and the sloppy approach with eccentric acting only enhances the narrow line between innocence and cruelty that the film repeatedly touches on. Very much worth a look, but be cautious in your expectations.

Bunuel was a restless director and this, the second adaptation of Octave Mirbeau's classic novel, is yet another example of his mastery over his chosen medium. Bunuel takes liberties with the novel, adapting it to suit his interests: he changes the setting to France of the 1930s, allowing for the opportunity to tie the rise of nationalism and anti-semitism to the decadence of the bourgeoisie, which he tackles with obvious relish.

The film is funny and scathing at the same time, relentlessly pursuing its own agenda to the delight and probable perplexion of the viewer. This is one of the most accessible of Bunuel's late films, which isn't to say it's better or worse than the rest - it's just a bit different in its use of more traditional modes of storytelling. He asks the viewer questions and when you think he's giving the answer you'll find the rug swiftly pulled from under your feet with the delight of a born prankster. He is, of course, much more than that but one of the many pleasures his work offers is the entertaining (and complete) control he has over the content, the unseen hand you feel expertly guiding the film to its effective conclusion.

Entertaining, thoughtful and with another wonderful performance by Jeanne Moreau, this is an easy introduction to Bunuel's oeuvre. "Mystery is the essential element in every work of art." -Luis Bunuel

It's hard to go wrong with the six films Preston Sturges did during his peak period from 1940-1947. SULLIVAN'S TRAVELS is his masterpiece, hitting all its marks with uncanny oddball perfection. The storyline of a bigtime Hollywood director desiring to make a social commentary with his next serious project, "O Brother Where Art Thou", is at times outrageously funny and repeatedly absurd. But the strange thing is how throughout the film there are so many poignant moments, done with utmost affection and delight, that its impossible to call this just a comedy. It's a film full of heart, lovable in its natural lunacy, utterly delightful and endlessly entertaining to watch, galloping ahead with rapid-fire screwball dialogue.

"This picture is an answer to communists. It shows we're awake and not dunking our heads in the sand like a bunch of ostriches. I want this picture to be a commentary on modern conditions, stark realism, the problems that confront the average man. I want to hold a mirror up to life. I want this to be a picture of dignity, a true canvas of the suffering of humanity!"

"But with a little sex in it?"

"With a little sex in it."