Author: CaptainFez

Curmudgeon.

Book reviews: ten not-so-rapid

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Well well well. It appears that the whole keep-up-to-date-with-reviews intention is something that withers in the overwhelming heat of oh-shit-work-deadlines and oh-shit-spring-gardening.

Pictured: the Australian outdoors

Consequently, it’s been a while since I’ve written. The good news (for me!) is that I’ve not stopped reading, and so have a raft of things to pontificate about now that I’ve finally got some time to get thoughts down.

(I was considering some kind of Droste effect of a photograph of me editing this post editing this post editing this post but I realised that I lack the technical elan to carry this out without using AI, and given that the world already looks like the image above due to people using this fucked tech to accelerate the Rule 34 singularity, that you could use your brain to picture it instead. I dunno, maybe your version is more handsome or charming or something. We live in hope.)

(Also, did you know that Microsoft once had an OS called ‘Singularity‘? I assume ‘Torment Nexus‘ was taken.)

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Book reviews: twisty lit, sovcits, future fascism, a boring family and the CIA

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So hey, it’s winter. I’m cold, and I have a cold, which is why I am spending my Friday evening writing book reviews instead of watching Jaws on the big screen to celebrate old Bruce’s 50th birthday.

Brody realises he’s left the gas on.

That said, I am keeping to my read-five-write-five rule, so I suppose koff-koff evenings are good for something. Let’s roll.

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Book reviews: serial killers, too much booze, Japan, film horror, fascist yoga, subs, viaducts and goths

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That’s quite a mouthful.

Pictured: me, yer boy.

The reason we’re dealing with this random assemblage of topics is because once more I’ve been unable to keep up with the whole “write a review after you’ve finished five books” thing. So this time around you’re getting ten for the price of five.

Which is nothing, as this blog is free. So you get good (reviews) for nothing? Sweet.

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Book reviews: wo-hoh we’re halfway there

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By which of course I mean through the year.

This is like the Ralph’s-heart-breaking bit but for singers.

(If I was referring to the grave then I’m more than halfway there, which is a sobering thought to open a post about books with. But you know, I’m a happy boy.)

Hubba hubba hubba hubba hubba.

Halfway through the year and we’re up to 42 books read. I’m sure there’s some kind of deep Douglas Adams-ian import could be made from that. Regardless, I’m both happy that I’ve read that many books (particularly given that there’s been so many four/five star reads in there) and annoyed that I haven’t read more.

There’s two books I’ve read (in the past two days) that haven’t made it into this review, but that’s only because I’m a) trying to get this one in before the month ends, b) keeping the books as close to multiples of five per review and (most of all) c) lazy.

(Though not too lazy to have started using a fucking book Gantt chart, it seems.)

Hey ho, let’s go.

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Book reviews: thirtysomething

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It seems I am eternally late in writing up these reviews. I would like to say that’s down to my overwhelming desire to read as opposed to my overwhelming draw towards lethargy, but you and I both know that’d be a lie.

My inner narrative at work.

So to make up for the time between posting – admittedly there’s been trips away and lots of work in between – I’m giving you ten reviews today. Not sure if that qualifies as a punishment for me or for you, but let’s embark on this journey together.

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Five more for the month

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This one has been sitting in the draft pile for a while. Over the Easter and Anzac Day break I managed to plough through a few books, a breather following a work trip to Sydney for some in-office reviews and woodshedding just before.

Since then, there’s been more work trips, and a truly hellish deadline with a whole lot of out-of-hours work going on. While that was going on, my desire to read (let alone write) has cratered. Which honestly, hasn’t been great for me: think of it as being hangry, only about reading. When I can’t read – can’t being the operative word here, given the amount of hard screen edits I’ve been doing, to the point that I just need to defocus at the end of the day instead of chowing town on some tasty tomes – I feel discombobulated and Not Quite Right.

So anyway, here we are. I’m having a couple of days off as recharge days, and am hoping to push through some more books. And catch up on my diary. And finish this bloody post.

A LIE.

If you’re reading this, I guess we did it.

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Book reviews: a buncha fours (and a five)

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Not much in the way of preamble, now: here’s another tranche of book reviews. Delighted that they all were cracking reads, which I assume means I’m going to read an absolutely terrible piece of shit next as some kind of literary karmic revenge.

I wonder what sort of literary hat suits me LOL it’s a dunce cap I already know.

We’ll see.

(Although I’m already reading something that’s a three-star at best so hopefully I can channel all the due shittiness into that one and thus escape any more dire reads than are absolutely necessary.)

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Another post, another five.

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Howdy howdy. I’m continuing to read more and to leave my reviewing until much later than I should. Find following a couple of reviews of recently inhaled tomes, with more to come soonish (I hope).

Me, if I had better hair.

(Also, is anyone finding this year exhausting? Just me? OK, on we go.)

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Working my way from five to ten

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There’s been another five books read! So that means I’ve scraped some thoughts out of my cranium and finally turned them into a post – I’m not kidding when I say this has sat in draft form for about ten days – for your delectation.

My inner narrative when I hit bookish double digits.

Right. Here we go.

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Book reviews: 2025’s first five

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That’s FIRST not FAMOUS, fuck’s sake.

So we’re almost three weeks into 2025 and it’s been… meh? I suppose that’s how most people view this part of the year: if you work in an industry that has a Christmas shutdown, you’re in the position of a car that’s driven daily then left alone while its owners go overseas for a bit: when they get back, it doesn’t roar back into life with quite the same aplomb.

Things groan. Starting becomes a little more of a trial than it had been. Things will, with a bit of coaxing and care, get back to proper running once more. But it’s gonna take time.

Consequently, writing reviews after a little break feels a little rusty, but I’m gonna give it a go. Elon Musk features in the fifth book I’ve consumed this year, so as long as this ends up reading better than one of his fucking jokes, I figure I’m ahead.

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