Steve Cartwright is exploring Man and His Symbols, in a less clinical approach, in his latest ghoulish fare, dished up in For What Food Mortals Be.
The fear of death on a daily basis as a copper and detective has filtered up in this tale of primordial fears.
‘Claustrophobia suddenly plunged daggers into his heart; he felt the entire weight of the colossal mansion press him down like a bug.’
Reality is blurred with the dreamscape.
‘I wan’t always thish ugly!’
Even a bug reference appears. This could be Metamorphosis and The Trial wrapped into one.
It isn’t though.
It’s much better.
It’s intergalactic roaming, bumping into orbs.
It’s feeling his way out of his womb.
It’s covering the human condition, there’s environmentalism in it, there’s repent, there are musings of a lonely young boy.
There’s a fictitious construct of a lonely childhood.
There’s real fears and doubts and resolutions. There’s no beam me up Scotty. There’s more beam me out and beyond from a troubled world.
Deep in space, there’s deathly quiet.
It isn’t though.
It’s much better.
It’s intergalactic roaming, bumping into orbs.
It’s feeling his way out of his womb.
It’s covering the human condition, there’s environmentalism in it, there’s repent, there are musings of a lonely young boy.
There’s a fictitious construct of a lonely childhood.
There’s real fears and doubts and resolutions. There’s no beam me up Scotty. There’s more beam me out and beyond from a troubled world.
Deep in space, there’s deathly quiet.
This book is a montage of short stories that connect. It’s a tribute to Ray Bradbury's Dark Carnival.
Was it a dream, or real? Carty will keep you guessing. This is his Jungian journey into forgotten dreams that have been lost in the basement of time.
The dream sequences leach out of an old and haunted house. The floorboards are covered with drying blood. It’s sticky, gooey and cloying.
Then we flash back into the Belly of the Whale.
Then we flash back into the Belly of the Whale.
The visuals are sweat inducing nightmares.
You get a real good feel of little towns and dialects and motivations reading this book. Carty has an ear for dialogue. He knows to be true to ‘their’ word, the story will resonate with a ‘real’ truth.
If only he can get inspiration from the Deep South, he might be able to pilot another television series.
Those sleepy swampy backwaters are not only repository’s for ‘black’ gold, but if you dig deep enough, and listen, impartially, little nuggets in the shape of ‘words’ will make a literary prospector rich.
Those sleepy swampy backwaters are not only repository’s for ‘black’ gold, but if you dig deep enough, and listen, impartially, little nuggets in the shape of ‘words’ will make a literary prospector rich.
I had read quite a few of these stories before. The author has now collected them and given them a nice resting place.
I wonder if Shakespeare will sue him?
What Food Mortals Be is a stream of consciousness that meanders in and out of consciousness.
Reading this book will induce you into a coma into the underworld.
There's a real threat of not waking up.
The bar scene in the Challenge of the Killer would have to be the best part of the book.
I can still see those big tits heaving. And the empty eye socket.
Heck, I’ve even frequented a bar like this in East Java before.
Reading this book will induce you into a coma into the underworld.
There's a real threat of not waking up.
The bar scene in the Challenge of the Killer would have to be the best part of the book.
I can still see those big tits heaving. And the empty eye socket.
Heck, I’ve even frequented a bar like this in East Java before.