It’s that spooky time of year again, when Alcohol Professor lets me turn my pen to libations most macabre. This year, we’re taking a break from visiting haunted bars, and with Night of the Booooozy Tales I pair six famous horror authors, six stories, and six cocktails and/or liquors.
Master of the Game is the kind of trashy supermarket checkout line novel that is stuffed with awful members of the uber-rich doing terrible things to one another and hatching elaborate revenge schemes because, what else do they have to do all day?
On The Cultural Gutter, Kungfu-Powered Afrocyberpunk Pulp is a look at Steven Barnes’ 1983 novel Streetlethal, which is sort of cyberpunk meets Mack Bolan starring Luke Cage in a story about magic orgy mushrooms.
On Cultural Gutter, I’m Neuromancin’ with Myself. The early 1990s was when I read Neuromancer. Into this maelstrom of personal evolution and conflicting feelings came Billy Idol’s Cyberpunk.
Over on The Cultural Gutter, I’m looking at two series of scifi novels by Jack McDevitt in Archaeologists in Space.
Before there was Emmanuelle, there was Emmanuelle. Emmanuelle Arsan, to be slightly more precise. Marayat Rollet-Andriane to be even more precise still. Born Marayat Bibidh in January 1932, in the city of Bangkok, she was the real-life Emmanuelle.
The official books that continue the adventures of James Bond beyond those written by Ian Fleming constitute a long, occasionally rewarding, often perilous minefield of reading material. For every success in the series, there is a scene of…oh I don’t know. James Bond visiting Euro Disney. Or James Bond sitting down at University of Texas student party hang-out Chuy’s to eat out of plastic basket while slurping flavored frozen margaritas. Which is to say that being “better” than most sanctioned 007 adventures is something of a loaded compliment.