Monster, 1959

Hah, it is equally as erudite and intelligent as any of his previous books. But this time in utilising the readers own (assumed) knowledge of the King Kong school of cinema with which to paint his canvas he misses out one of the most interesting things that he generously offered us within all of his previous works, namely the use of his own unique and personal knowledge (and understanding) of middle the eastern cultures, cuisines, habits ECT. So whilst reading Monster I found myself feeling nostalgic for all of that crumbly goat's cheese and the blazing fields of yellow mustard flowers, and for those clammy whitewashed interior walls, and those fat ripe figs and the sticky honey combs and the tangled greying beards and the acrid bad breath and spittle. The other quibble of course is his childishly unsubtle use of global politics. Even though I agree on almost every point with him it still grates a bit here because all of this ranting does nothing to really enhance this novel's basic premise. I'm sure that both he and I and anyone else for that matter could quite easily compile a list of atrocities committed by and bad intentions acted upon by bad eggs for almost any day of the year since Cane first picked up that rock and took out his Brother Abel, but so what! Doug made me smile and laugh out loud and I'm glad that the bad guy got away with the dough but...There is something of the spirit of Richard Brautigan pounding around within the walls of this book and also inside his recent blog writing, and I have nothing against this being a card carrying Uber fan of Mr B myself; but still I think that all in all I preferred his previous works and I do hope that whatever his next choice of a subject that he will give us much more of that crumbly goats cheese and of that poor dithering Doug's discomfort and less of his angst ridden soap box ranting.

If you thought the 1950's monster movie story was all used up, David Maine will prove you wrong as soon as you've hacked your way through a few pages of jungle on his nuclear-contaminated island. Maine includes all the parts left out of the originals: the primitive sacrificial victim who preceded the beautiful blonde intruder, the sluggish thought processes of the innocent vegetarian monster. He even fleshes out the highly interesting sex life you always fantasized about between the square-jawed hero and the big-busted heroine he saves. Gotta love it! An arch, sardonic comic-book of a novel that brings technicolor into a black and white landscape. Definitely a romp.

I am a huge fan of Maine's and was naturally quite excited to see he had a new book out. As with his biblical fiction, he has taken a well-known story and made it his own (this one just happens to not be from the bible.) Maine's writing is top notch, and his word-play is one of the things I most enjoy when reading his books. His humor is my favorite aspect of his writing, and this book contains some gems. As with his other books, Maine is not shy about sharing his opinions, sometimes overtly, sometimes subtly. In the scope of this "Monster Movie" tale there is just enough commentary to keep you thinking. I'd be hard pressed to find a topic that wasn't at least briefly touched on (money, power, greed, sex, the media, etc. etc.) I probably wouldn't recommend this as a first exposure to Maine, unless you are a fan of the monster movie genre. The Preservationist is a great introduction to Maine's work, but once a fan I think you'd agree that he could write the copy on a cereal box and make it unique and interesting.