Once released under the New Bizarro Authors Series, Steve Lowe’s body-swapping bizarro classic has returned, its comic absurdity stretched to new lengths.
More Muscle, More Memory…
Billy Gillespie wakes up one morning to discover his junk is gone. In its place is his wife’s junk. Billy is now Tina, and Tina is probably dead. That’s because Billy’s dead. His lifeless body is still in bed and empty beer bottles and a container of antifreeze litter the kitchen counter. Did Tina really poison Billy? Can he and his neighbors, all experiencing their own bouts of body switcheroo, fix this before the Feds find Billy’s body? Was it aliens, or God, or the government? What was Edgar Winter really doing with his sheep? Is pro football Hall of Famer Terry Bradshaw the key to everything? What Would Kirk Cameron Do? In the expanded edition of this New Bizarro Author Series original, all will be revealed. Maybe.
“It’s always a risky proposition: to take a well-known trope (especially one that peaked in the films of the 80s) and try to find a new way to spin it. In Muscle Memory, Steve Lowe takes his cue from movies like Freaky Friday and Like Father, Like Son, presenting a tale of bodies switched and swapped all over a small community. Using some clever writing however, Lowe transcends the typical structure of those stories and takes it to a whole new level of absurd and hilarious wonder.” —Michael Allen Rose, author of Embry: Hard-boiled
Get it here!
So, I just finished reading You are Sloth, by author Steve Lowe. It was a great read. I will say first, though, that we as readers need to know what a sloth really is. And when it comes down to it, the sloth is slow. And based on the pace of the first few chapters of the book I was beginning to think that the book was going to be a cliché of coincidence. A slow book about a slow character. After a few chapters the book really picked up though.
The thing that stuck out the most for me is the way in which it was written: The title is ‘You’ are sloth, and that’s how it reads. The book is written in 2nd person, as if you’re the main character. I liked that. It sucked me in. The longer I read the book, I thought that it was just going to be a weird story about what life would be like as this animal. But just when I was getting my hopes up the book shifted in an unexpected direction. And from there on out the pace became frantic and the twists and turns were constant. I really enjoyed this book a lot. The characters were strong, and who better to write this book than a guy that actually looks… well, slothy.
Also, talking snakes and homosexual robots. To the slothmobile!
But enough of that. Go read this book!
One last note: my favorite part about the book cover is the unfinished embroidery on the wall. How lazy is that?
Have a book you want reviewed?
My name is Pat and I frequently stop in with bizarro book reviews. The types of reviews I do are simple, short, and to the point. If you want me to review your book just shoot me a message. My goal is to do at least one Bizarro Central Review a month. If I can get around to more than that, awesome. But no promises. You can check me out at http://indie-inside.com
A rad tale from the guy that brought you MUSCLE MEMORY. Published on Unicorn Knife Fight.
A weird little tale from the author of FELIX AND THE SACRED THOR. Published on The New Flesh.
Greetings Smutzarros, I’m Cam Kirkeron. No, you don’t recognize me, I’m not someone famous. I am but a simple man on a crusade. You’ve clearly landed on this webpage because you got distracted from your daily pornography searches. I’m here on this digital den of sin and vice because I am in possession of certain photographical evidence depicting the administrators of this website in compromising positions. Hence, my appearance in this most unlikely of pulpits.
I had the misfortune of becoming aware of this “genre” of “literature” through the work of one Steve Lowe, whose quote-unquote book “Muscle Memory” goes to great lengths to slander several well-known and morally-astute celebrities with lies, innuendo and crude toilet humor. Normally, I let this sort of thing slide off my back and pray that the hearts and minds of such wayward sheep will one day be shepherded back into His Heavenly fold.
But this egregious affront to decency and wholesomeness known as Bizarro fiction simply cannot stand any longer. Of particular note is this offshoot of Smutzarro that calls itself “The New Bizarro Author Series”. What twisted mind thought up this crude form of hazing, unleashing desperate losers into the world to harass and harangue decent folk into sullying their hearths and hearts with the mere presence of such distasteful, disgusting, damaging material, all for the sake of earning a contract to create even more filth? According to my detailed investigation of the matter, one Kevin Donihe can be held most accountable.
Take this current batch of NBAS swill. They have the nerve to call themselves the Magnificent Seven, though I’d be shocked to learn if any of them can count that high. Seven books of such atrocious subject matter, such that I can hardly describe. But for the good of decency on the Internet, I will soldier forward and do just that, detailing the lowlights of these filth-filled tomes.
First you have Eric Hendrixson’s “Bucket of Face”. This piece of pseudo fiction glorifies the life of a known sex offender and explicitly depicts an act of sexual congress between a man and a Kiwi fruit. Imagine your children getting their hands on this “Bucket of Sin”. This Hendrixson character has also gone so far as to offer cheap swag on Facebook to anyone who will “Like” his trash. So add bribery to his long list of flaws.
Then there’s Nicole Cushing’s “How to Eat Fried Furries”. Religion-hating, British-Comedy-imitating, hack-television-script-writing, indecipherable noise slapped onto paper. Trees died to make this thing come to life. And all this from a seemingly nice woman. Shocking to see members of the fairer sex involved in this depravity.
But not as shocking as this next entry, from fresh-faced youngster, Kirsten Alene. “Love in the Time of Dinosaurs” is about evil dinosaurs (devil lizards? OK, I can see that), indestructible monks (members of the clergy with super powers bestowed upon them by a higher authority? Yeah, I can get behind that!), and a forbidden love affair betwixt the two. Wait, what? Oh, Ms. Alene, what a shame. You were actually going somewhere, but then you fell on the crutch of the weak: violence, vulgar language and forbidden relations between species. What must your mother think?
When it comes to Caris O’Malley, I am of the opinion that he was not born to a proper mother – clearly he is the spawn of the Dark Lord, hatched from an egg just like in his book “The Egg Said Nothing”. Time-traveling loser repeatedly beats himself to death with a shovel, all the while cursing a blue streak and fornicating with a tramp? The O’Malley clearly says nothing of substance or value to humanity with this hot garbage.
But he’s not even the worst one. This Kirk Jones guy wrote a story about couches having… well, I just can’t bring myself to type such a thing. Reading “Uncle Sam’s Carnival of Copulating Inanimals” is like riding a bullet train straight to Hell. And Jones is in the engineer’s seat, using a noble charity to help disseminate his furniture fornication (I hereby dub the term DavenPorn) to the world.
Of course, DavenPorn pales in comparison to the unholy tripe authored by James Steele. “Felix and the Sacred Thor” is the most disgusting, demented and disturbed offering of the lot, glorifying the use of huge animal (I shudder to even consider this word) dildos as weapons, and the ritual sodomizing of America’s retail workforce (haven’t those people suffered enough?). A tenth circle of Hell awaits you, Mr. Steele.
And that brings us back to the beginning, and in my opinion, the worst of the lot. Steve Lowe’s Muscle Memory does not go to the extremes of James “the Damned” Steele, or Kirk “The Devil is in Mr.” Jones. And that’s what makes it so insidious and dangerous. I’ll confess that I snicker at the occasional fart joke like anyone else, but hear this: No one makes fun of Kirk Cameron and Terry Bradshaw on my watch! Help me rid the world of this trash. Burn it and light the night sky with our cleansing flames. Fire shall make you new again.
Now, go be productive and stop surfing for porn, or you’ll end up like one of these Smutzarros.