Thursday, April 02, 2009
I have my driving theory test on Saturday. Because I'm a little bit twisted in the head, the thing that worries me about these tests/experiences is never the questions themselves or failing, it's just being locked in a cubicle space for an hour with no means of escape.
To distract myself, I'm revising like a motherfucking petrolhead you wouldn't believe. Got a question about the Highway or its code? Hit me. Go on.
Anyway, speaking of petrol and flammable substances, Playing with Fire is out now. I *love* this antho. It's shocking and dirty and such wildly good fun. I read some of the stories sitting out in the sun and just felt - I don't know, punkrock. Of course, I've got a wee flash in it, and many friends grace the pages, so I can't really give you an objective critique. But I do have to say I enjoyed it like a glass of whisky on a hot summer's day.
I also especially wanted to mention Alison Tyler's story. She does such a bang-up job of editing, I think sometimes her writing gets less attention than it should. But I adored her story. Loved it. Ate it up like popcorn and coke. Sweet, bad, wry and surprising.
Oh, look, I can offer my opinion of some of the stories, right? Janine's is deliciously jaw-droppingly shocking. Jeremy's is warm and touching as well as being filthy. Michael Hemmingson's is such clever good twisted fun, and Thomas Roche's is just fucking ace. I read Shanna's and it's like lying on a beach with the warm dark stars sparkling overhead and a warm body beside you.
There we go. How do I do as a reviewer? I honestly am being objective! I fuckin am!
Now, ask me about stopping distances. Go on.