Unevenly paced at times, but still enjoyable. I would have chuckled at some parts had I not been ill while reading this. Which isn't to say this is a funny memoir, but Tama manages to infuse humour into her vignettes of family disfunction. 🌟🌟🌟

Started reading this just before Susan Fowler's infamous blog post about her time at Uber became public. Then all I could notice was the misogynistic behaviour of the author of this book, and couldn't stomach finishing it.

Even the author has referred to Universal Harvester as horror, and while this book does have some traits common to the genre, it won't frighten, scare or disgust. The eeriness introduced at the start of the book doesn't disappear, it only becomes less oppressive as we realise this is more a story about unresolved grief. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

A nostalgic, light read. If you prefer dense plots, and overly-complicated characters, this book isn't for you. But if you're looking for a quick distraction from life.... ⭐️⭐️⭐️

My first introduction to Peter Swanson (The Kind Worth Killing is on my TBR list). This had the potential to be much more chilling - and exciting - but ultimately missed that mark. Which isn't to say this is a bad read, just that it could have been so much more. And, of course, Kate Priddy should be wondering what she did to become the equivalent of flypaper for crazy. ⭐️⭐️⭐️

My favourite mystery/thriller of the year, so far. Amazing debut with a location and characters that stand out not only because they're a little different, but also because of the writing. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I don't read a lot of LGBTQ fiction, and although this isn't the best I've read in this genre recently, there are worse ways to spend your time.

Structure certainly was different, but not if you're not up for paying attention. An enjoyable mystery/thriller. 🌟🌟🌟

Loved this! Subtly creepy (for the most part) with suggestive menace on every page, but especially the interludes between chapters with "faceless" dialogue. I want more!

Friday Fun with @Liberty - I don't have any books I return to repeatedly, but I first read Andrew Holleran's debut in the very early 90s. I bought it again earlier this year to reread now that I've been out for 20+ years, and married for 7. I've also had a bit of a 70s obsession this year.

Forfeiting solitude, independence, is a much greater sacrifice than most of us realize. Sharing a habitat, a life, is for sure harder than being alone. In fact, coupled living seems virtually impossible, doesn‘t it? To find another person to spend all your life with? To age with and change with?

Decided to bounce between The Girls and this - about to start.

Reading this is like watching a car crash in slow motion - you see the inevitability of the accident before anyone else, but you can't (or won't) do anything. You should avert your eyes, but you don't. It's okay if you don't know what I mean, I'm not in the mood to try and make more sense.

Some reviews compared Frank Bures to Jon Ronson, but I did not find this to be true. Sure they both skew towards unusual topics, but I find Robson a lot easier to read. At times this book felt a little like a very long magazine article, without an easy pace to make it enjoyable.

It‘s the taste of ripeness that‘s about to ferment. Initially, it serves as a warning. But after a familiarity develops, after you learn its name, that precipice of rot becomes the only flavor worth pursuing, the only line worth testing.

One of those books where I had to keep reading to see how the story would end, and now that it has I'm undecided about whether or not it was satisfying.

She waits, and waits, and when the silence finally comes it is worse, for she has been stripped of everything that used to shield her from a hard world where every action has a consequence. She has no one else to blame. This is her punishment.

[...] the taller man with the braces and the rolled-up shirtsleeves slides down the buckled planking till he is brought to a halt by a spike of broken rail which enters the small of his back. He wriggles like a fish. No one will go down to help him.

As frank and funny as his other memoirs, though less emotional than "Dry" (and that's a good thing).

“They‘re giving me steroids to keep my energy up, which also increases my appetite, and then I gain weight,” he explained. “So I lost my hair and got fat. I‘m getting Uncle Fester chemo.”

Finished Joe Hill's The Fireman last night, and went straight into the latest Augusten Burroughs - for a change of pace and tone.