Because not every post can be a scintillating exploration of my/someone else’s psyche, here’s a list of upcoming books I await ever so anxiously.
Like, kid waiting for Santa anxiously.
The Fella Who Couldn’t Wait for Christmas anxiously. Scroll down for the context behind that strange sentence.
- After Annihilation and Authority, you’d better believe I not only want this book, I need it. Vandermeer is literary heroin. I’ve got a Vandermeer on my back! I’m riding the Jeff Dragon!
- Every book from Carroll is a dream, and I long to take another nap with him. That came out a little weird, but you get the gist.
- I love Eric McCormack. Hell, I idolize him to an unhealthy extreme. I put him in my first novel, just to get his attention. So, yeah, McCormack releases his first novel in eleven years? Kinda excited.
- Madeline’s a friend (see here for proof). But even if I despised her—and I am jealous of her talent, no question—after the one-two rock’em sock’em android punch of vN and iD, I’ll follow her into Robot Hell.
- Cronenberg’s oh-so-many movies—The Fly, Videodrome, Dead Ringers, A History of Violence, Scanners, The Brood, the list goes on—have affected me like few other filmmakers could ever hope. The publication of his debut novel is obvious cause for huzzahs! galore.
- Did you read The Troop? Did you read my review of said Troop? Then you know why this follow-up is on the list.
- Eutopia! Rasputin’s Bastards! The ‘Geisters! Monstrous Affections! And he’s partners with Madeline Ashby! ‘Nuff said!
- Every new release by Tidhar (close to Stephen King publication speed) is a cause for excitement. Why should this be any different?
- A historical Cold War spy thriller by the author of The Players? It’s about bloody time, mate!
- Loved Reading by Lightning, loved Curiosity, so why wouldn’t I love this one? No reason. You cannot come up with one reason. You make me sad for even trying.
- Baillie’s novel The Incident Report was absolutely wonderful. Why should her next be any different? Or at least really good?
- If you haven’t read Files’ stunning Hexslinger trilogy, well, I can’t even begin to help you.
- I’ve read the first forty pages, and believe me, I am chomping at the bit at this one. I proclaim it “the novel that Charles Dickens was too much of a coward to write himself.”