Tag: writing

2025 consumption: a look at some stuff I liked

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Right, right. This should’ve been finished before the end of 2025. But between engagements and gastro, it took a bit of a back seat.

YES I KNOW GODDAMNIT.

But now I’m (mostly) back on deck, so here’s your yearly guide to things I perceived. You can check through the previous versions (here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here) for some more me-review action.

I think this will be less wordy than the usual variant, but we’ll see how we end up.

Continue reading “2025 consumption: a look at some stuff I liked” →

Planning the pages: 2026 edition

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In a change to my normal way of doing things, I’m planning the pages for 2026 on New Year’s Eve. This is because I won’t get to do my usual year-end write-up until next year, and I figured I wanted to have my motivational, a-nice-lot-of-books-to-choose-from list done before the next year and its horrors arrives.

Anyway, here’s a list of books.

New year arrives, old habits persist
Continue reading “Planning the pages: 2026 edition” →

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: 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.

Continue reading “Book reviews: serial killers, too much booze, Japan, film horror, fascist yoga, subs, viaducts and goths” →

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.

Continue reading “Book reviews: wo-hoh we’re halfway there” →

Gunna, get it?

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When I was a teenager my parents and uncle delighted in calling me Gunna. Gunna Martin. At first, I thought this was kind of cool, because as a kid I’d loved a book called Drummer Hoff, but apparently it was Not A Good Thing.

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Check out those cheekbones.

It was Not A Good Thing because it referred to my inability to do things in a timely fashion.  Mowing. Picking up the dog shit. Cleaning my room. Homework. Anything that didn’t involve pissing time away, most likely. And so whenever anyone reached the point of extremity, out it came: Gunna Martin, that’s you.  Continue reading “Gunna, get it?” →

The Priest of the Invisible

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As part of an attempt to become more organised (and to eke more out of my hours) I’ve recently begun scheduling things I’d like to do. It’s not quite as cold as it sounds, and it affords me the ability to ensure I do things I like, but which often suffer in the throes of a Wikipedia hole or a TV Tropes vortex.

One of the things on my list is to read a poem a day. Every day. One poem. This is to counter the fact that though I like poetry, and though I spent four years at university reading books – some of which were made up of poems! – I still feel myself to be a low-watt bulb when it comes to poetry. It’s something I like, and have liked for a long time, but something I feel kind of stupid around, like I’ve turned up to a fancy restaurant in tracksuit pants. Continue reading “The Priest of the Invisible” →

’90s musical memories: 4/7

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For day four of my ’90s Musical Memories challenge I have gone with a band which was one of the first I saw live, and one I hated for a really long time. They’re a band who negotiate their own twisted furrow, and one almost universally critically adored, yet criminally undersold. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Crow, one of the few bands to have seen the word ‘angular’ appear in almost every write-up they’ve received. Continue reading “’90s musical memories: 4/7” →

Peter Fenton: In The Lovers Arms (2004)

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This is an older interview of mine, presented here for archival purposes. The writing is undoubtedly different to the present, and the review style may differ between publications. Enjoy, if that’s the right word.

Originally published September 2004.

R-5554611-1457749426-1151.jpeg[1]There’s a line in Peter Fenton’s debut solo album, In The Lovers Arms that accurately encapsulates its author’s thoughts on songwriting. On opener ‘The Song People’, appears the refrain

Song… Song… Song…
It’s where you’ve been

It’s also pretty apt for where the artist is at in his life. Song is, in some ways, a transcript, a record of where you’ve been. And for Fenton, it’s been quite a journey. In The Lovers Arms is the end result of recent ruminations on life, love and solitude, and it’s a welcome release.
The album is the singer’s first solo release since Crow – the best fucked-off-with-life band of dark-eyed troubadours since Nick Cave stopped writing Latin on his chest and decided to keep his suit-jackets on – imploded after the release of Play With Love in 1998. Since that time, he’s begun a career as an actor, and this album marks his return to the world of recording, after a period of disenchantment with the industry at large.

There’s two things to note about this return, too. Firstly, it’s a concept album. Secondly, it’s a product that makes the waiting worthwhile. Continue reading “Peter Fenton: In The Lovers Arms (2004)” →