Gleetings and salubriations!
We return today with the latest in the WRITERS REVIEWING THEIR OWN BOOKS series. Tim Marquitz is here to review his novel WAR GOD RISING. And in a strange turn of events he appears to actually be doing it himself!
TIM MARQUITZ REVIEWS WAR GOD RISING
But like any train wreck, I had rubberneck or I’d miss out on the opportunity to piss off the folks behind me who have better things to do. And after reading this trash, I could sympathize. I mean, seriously, who the hell writes a book about a guy who buggers sheep? Allegedly, or so the author insists. Yeah, buddy, tell it to the judge.
Anyway, flagrant sheep love aside, I’m fairly certain the author of War God Rising thought he was creating a puzzle rather than writing a novel. The book’s one big jumble, all the pieces scattered everywhere, and I’m almost positive there are a handful missing. I won’t even mention the fact that the image is drawn in crayon, which is, admittedly, still a few notches better than the cover art. This is the 21st century, Marquitz. Nudity doesn’t sell books anymore.
Oh, did I mention this is supposed to be a comedy? I think someone mislabeled it. The only laugh involved was the awkward chuckle of the clerk when I paid for it. I’m certain I saw Amy Schumer walking by, shaking her head as I bought the thing.
Still, the book has some redeeming qualities. The pages were nice and soft and hardly left any paper cuts, which I learned when my mom forgot to pick up toilet paper last week. And the pages burn nicely, the ink giving off a pleasant, carcinogenic scent that mostly covered the smell from the aforementioned restroom adventure.
So, yeah, if you’re desperate for a book that holds up to a good wiping and might be useful if you’re having trouble outing yourself as one of those fantasy readers, War God Rising is likely the 11th or 12th book in the list that you’d want to pick up. Maybe 13th.
If ever there was a pity purchase, this is it.
Web Site: http://www.tmarquitz.com/
Monty Python meets Gladiator!
Sand is destined for greatness. Or so a pair of two-bit criminals would have him believe.
After rescuing him from certain doom, Bess and Kaede embark on a scheme to game the War God Tournament. It’d be easier if Sand wasn’t an alcohol-soaked twit with a disturbing interest in mutton.
Pitted against monsters, magic swords, and murderers galore, they soon realize winning the tourney is the least of their worries.