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Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more dazzled by Zachary Shatzer powers of comedic storytelling, he goes and writes a cozy zombie apocalypse story.

Shatzer’s recent book The Beach Wizard cemented his place on my Mount Rushmore of comic novelists. It’s a fantastic mixture of absurd comedy and stoic philosophy. I’ve read it twice since it debuted in August. Everyone should read it.

But, anyway; about this book. It’s the third book in Shatzer’s series of cozy mystery parodies, starring amateur sleuth Roberta Smith, her cat Mr. Bigfluff, and their idyllic (aside from the surprisingly frequent murders) town of Quaintville.

You have to read the first two books in the series to get the most out of this one, but as they’re all extremely short, this shouldn’t be a problem. You can read the whole series in about an hour.

Now, I’ll admit to the possibility that this particular brand of parody might not be for everybody. You have to be familiar with the cozy mystery genre to get why it’s funny. I suppose if you’ve never heard of cozy mysteries before, you’ll find it a bit baffling. But then again, who hasn’t heard of cozy mysteries?

Additionally, an Indie-Skeptic may argue that the books are (a) very short or (b) contain typos. I have seen these arguments made many times by readers who hesitate or outright refuse to spend money on indie books.  Sometimes at the same time, which doesn’t even make sense. It’s like the old joke about the restaurant where the food is terrible and the portions are too small.

The argument that a book is too short doesn’t hold up. You’re not paying for the words, you’re paying for the effect they produce.

As for the typos, I’ve pretty much reached a point as a reader where I hardly notice them, unless they actively impede my understanding. Yes, of course, in an ideal world, there would be no typos, and all spelling and grammar would be perfectly uniform. But we’re not in an ideal world, and this is far from the main reason why.

One of my hobbies is reading old books, especially those from my favorite historical period, the American Revolution. One thing I quickly noticed was that spelling was very much an inexact science in those days. George Washington himself struggled mightily with orthography.

The snobs of the world who sneer at typos in indie books would no doubt say, if transported back to Colonial America, “This man’s letters be full of errors most grievous against our Common Tongue. Hark ye, sirs and ladies, never could he lead a ∫ucce∫sful revolution against the Crown of England!”

Or words to that effect. But old George seemed to do all right for his country, and Zachary Shatzer has done all right for the art of writing comic fiction. Like I said at the outset, folks: Mount Rushmore.

Shatzer’s books never fail to make me laugh out loud, and this one is great for getting in the Halloween spirit. (Not that I need help with that, but…) I highly recommend it.

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A classic ghost tale in the Gothic tradition. The protagonist becomes obsessed with the romantic legend of a ghost said to haunt Arlen Hall, and will stop at nothing to meet the specter face-to-face. But, as the cover says, be careful what you wish for…

Speaking of covers, I know we’re not supposed to judge books by them, but simply considered as a standalone artwork, is not that cover perfect? It’s practically a story in itself.

This is a super-short book; easy to read in one sitting, but it’s still highly enjoyable all the same, and a good introduction to Painter’s dark, often ironic sense of humor. Just don’t expect a sprawling novel; this is a more of a quick sketch.

As I write this review, there’s a debate raging on Twitter about whether a traditional mystery story can have supernatural elements. (The word “traditional” is doing a lot of work in that sentence.) This book is a good example of how a story can include the supernatural, yet still be resolved in a logical and consistent manner.

My suggestion is to pick this one up along with some other short Halloween stories, and read all of them on one of these dark October evenings, when the wind is howling and the leaves are rustling, and the rain is lashing at the windows, and there are strange lights in the mist but you can’t remember the neighbors putting out any decorations yet…

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This is like a Hallmark Christmas romance, but for Halloween. This, in my opinion, is exactly what the world needs. Halloween is associated with horror fiction, and rightly so, but there is no reason for it to be exclusively the holiday of horror.

There’s nothing wrong with horror. I like horror. (Slasher stories I could do without.) But a Halloween story need not be a horror story by definition. Halloween is a holiday with room for all sorts of stories.

Did you know that ghost stories used to be a Christmas tradition? It’s true, though nowadays the only surviving relic of that custom is A Christmas Carol.  And if the Victorians could tell ghost stories at Christmas, why can’t we tell romance stories at Halloween?

This story has black cats, costumes, and a classic boy-meets-girl love story. Does it reinvent the romance genre? No, but it doesn’t need to. When you read a story like this, you want the feeling of familiar coziness you get sipping warm cider on a brisk October evening, looking at the sun setting over a pumpkin patch.

Or something like that. Experienced Halloween aficionados will no doubt have their own ideal atmosphere to conjure the required mood. Something Whiskered This Way Comes is a perfect, non-scary way to get into the holiday spirit.

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Books require a higher level of investment from the audience than, say, movies do. As readers, we have to do some of the work of imagining things for ourselves. I think it’s accurate to say that while you and I may read the same book, we don’t necessarily read the same story. Your way of envisioning it will not quite match mine, much the way a computer program may be handled differently by different compilers.

This subjectivity is a key element of the written word as a medium for fiction. A really good book takes full advantage of this curious feature, inviting the reader to use their imagination to fill in details, or even to come up with their own interpretations of the entire story.

Fatal Rounds is just such a book. The central character, Liza Larkin, is a pathology resident at a hospital in Massachusetts. She has chosen the hospital specifically because she has become suspicious of one of the hospital’s surgeons, Dr. Donovan, who attended her father’s funeral, much to the horror of Liza’s schizophrenic mother.

Liza’s obsessive investigation of Dr. Donovan brings her into possession of evidence that implicates him in a number of deaths. Her highly atypical mind gives her an unusual ability to concentrate on her goal, and she becomes fixated on bringing Donovan to justice.

That’s the basic plot of the book. But the real meat of Fatal Rounds is in subtle details and ambiguities. It’s not so much about what happens as it is the reader’s interpretation of what happens. That’s why I don’t want to talk too much about specifics; lest I color your reading of the book with my own views.

No joke, this book reminded me of one of my favorite works of fiction of all time, “The Repairer of Reputations” by Robert W. Chambers. If you’ve read that story, you probably can see what I mean. If you haven’t… well, let’s just say Fatal Rounds is a great demonstration of the philosophy of fiction that I acquired from reading “Repairer of Reputations.”

This book is a great medical thriller, but more than that, it’s just a flat-out great story, and I highly recommend it to anyone, even if medical thrillers aren’t a genre you typically read. It gives you some things to chew on long after you close the book.

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Another fast-paced thriller from Geoffrey Cooper, the fifth in the series. This time Brad Parker and Karen Richmond are drawn into investigating a sex trafficking ring with connections to a major medical institute.

Strictly speaking, you can read this book without reading any of the previous Brad and Karen books. But, unlike the others, I have to say I think you shouldn’t. The way the characters develop is an important element of this book. So, I don’t think it’s possible to fully enjoy this story without already being familiar with the dynamic between the two leads.

And Brad and Karen really are likable characters. It’s always a pleasure to open a new book in the series, because they are an excellent team, besides being a cute couple romantically. <Insert “name a more iconic duo” meme.>

And so if you have read the other books in the series, you’ll be glad to know that this one is just as enjoyable as the rest. I highly recommend this series to anyone who enjoys thrillers. It’s action-packed and interesting. Check it out if you haven’t done so already.

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Mark Paxson has this thing he does where he tells a story beginning with seemingly-innocuous prompts and making them a starting point to craft wonderful characters. He can use anything for raw material, and from it weave a tapestry full of the most vibrant and memorable figures.

Some of his stories, like those in this collection, are quick sketches in terms of length, but in terms of depth might as well be full-length novels. The characters are deep, well-rounded and developed. In a few words, he shows us a whole world, populated with real people. The simplest way I can say it is, reading Paxson is like experiencing a combination of a John Steinbeck novel and Billy Joel’s “Piano Man.”

Some examples include one of my favorite stories in this book, “The Life of a Shoe.” Told from the perspective of, yes, a shoe, it tells a powerful story of growing up, experiencing hardship, and having faith. Or take “The Rosewood,” which gives us a picture of all the residents of an apartment complex, and how their disparate lives intertwine in different ways.

In some of Paxson’s works, there are recurring patterns, like leitmotifs in music. The family dynamic in “What Happens When A Pet Dies” shares a little with that in “Deviation”: two bickering siblings confronting their relationship with themselves and their parents. And the irresponsible protagonist of “Nobody Important” is just about as thoughtless as the protagonist of Paxson’s early novel, One Night in Bridgeport, acting without considering the consequences.

Then there are the stories about war and the people who become caught up in it, like “Memories of Foom” and “Aleppo.” A more satirical take on war is found in “The Last Dance.” There are stories of relationships gone right (“Spaces After The Period”) and gone very wrong. (“Beelzebub & Lucifer”) And then there are the pieces like “An Obituary,” “Coyote,” and “Carnies” that defy categorization.

Interspersed throughout the book are fragments of poetry and flash fiction which are every bit as haunting and moving as the longer stories they serve to season.

Every time I read a collection of Mark’s stories, I’m struck by how versatile and imaginative he is, and this one is no different. If you’ve read his other books, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you about it; you’ve probably already picked this one up.

If you haven’t read Paxson before, this is a fine collection to start with. I loved it, and I think anyone who enjoys good fiction will too. Go ye now, and pick it up already!

Oh, ah, that’s right… there is one other story in this collection, isn’t there? One that I didn’t discuss yet. The titular piece. The one about killing a certain author, yes?

I figured that one would grab your eye. It’s on the cover, after all. Perhaps it’s my vanity talking, but I have to assume it got the attention of a few readers.

But, why spoil such a great hook? No, no; if you read my blog, then you simply have to read this book, and this story in particular. What is the story behind the story, you wonder? Never fear, for Paxson will tell, as he does with all the stories. But first you have to read it for yourself, with as few preconceived notions as possible.

So I’ll say nothing about it, except this: it’s perfect. Perfect for what it is and what it was meant to be. Anything more than that is for you to say.

Killing Berthold Gambrel is a must-read.

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Hey, how many of you know about the Stoic emperor, Marcus Aurelius?

Well, I know one of my readers is actually a practicing Stoic, and thus is familiar with the “last good emperor’s” philosophy. Another writer friend mentioned him in a story. And I’m aware of at least one other fan of ancient Roman history among my readers. As for me, I only began studying Stoicism relatively recently, and I find it very interesting. Not that I can claim to be Stoic, or even a reasonably accomplished student of Stoicism. No, indeed; I am probably the worst Stoic in the world. This comic describes me to a “T”. But, you know, as Martyn Green’s singing instructor told him: “With you? We start on exercises, and hope!”

I hear the cry go up, “Berthold, we’ve come here for a book review! What are you going on about?” Well, it so happens that Zachary Shatzer’s latest novel includes many Stoic themes.

Of course, on a superficial level, this is another of Shatzer’s comic tales, this time set in a laid-back beach town, where the titular Beach Wizard comes into conflict with a formidable Sea Wizard, putting the entire lifestyle of the beachgoing population at risk.

I’ve compared Shatzer to Wodehouse before. It’s not a comparison I make lightly, but I’ll do it again. As with Wodehouse, you can’t be unhappy while reading one of his books. If you enjoyed any of his previous humorous novels, you’re going to like this one, too. It combines all the elements we’ve come to expect from him: a varied and entertaining cast of characters, recurring jokes that gradually become sub-plots in their own right, and a story-within-the-story that forms an engaging narrative.

But this one has a little bit of something else, too, besides all the fun. The Beach Wizard is not just a stock character who uses magic as a deus ex machina anytime the plot demands it. No, he is a well-rounded character, complete with wisdom befitting his age. Think Gandalf, if Gandalf had found his way into a Frankie & Annette picture.

Actually, the whole beach town reminds me of Tolkien’s Shire, with its simple, easy-going, goodhearted folk who live their lives in quiet tranquility. And the Sea Wizard is no Saruman, of course, but he brings about the closest thing to a scouring that the chilled-out beach bums have ever experienced.

Not that the Sea Wizard is truly a villain, you understand. Shatzer is like Chuck Litka in that he is capable of writing a conflict without resorting to characters who are simply evil. Everything the characters do is understandable and reasonable, given who they are and what they know.

Which brings me back to the Beach Wizard and his philosophy. At one point, the Beach Wizard gives a beautiful speech that I partially excerpt below:

“It is a difficult thing to understand someone who lives a very different life from your own. Many people choose not to make even an attempt at understanding, and simply dismiss such differences as being “Weird” or “Stupid” or what have you. But I don’t wish to criticize…

Lack of understanding is, well, understandable, but working through one’s ignorance and casting away petty feelings and resentment is of the utmost importance. At least, I believe it is so.”

And what I like best of all is that, even for all his experience and wisdom, the Beach Wizard is fallible. He makes mistakes. He comes up short of his own standards. But he recognizes when he fails, and resolves to do better. And he does. Any Stoic, including the good emperor himself, will tell you that nobody’s perfect; all you can do is keep trying to be better.

The Beach Wizard is a wonderful story that everyone should read. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

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This is the first installment in the “Dirk Moorcock” series. That is correct; the hero of the book is named “Dirk Moorcock.”

In a way, I could end the review right now, and you would know everything you need to know about this book. I mean, what kind of book do you think would have a hero named “Dirk Moorcock?” I suspect whatever book you imagine, you won’t be far from the mark. If you need another clue, look at the cover. I know, I know; we’re not supposed to judge by those, but in this case you would be fairly safe in doing so.

But it would be an abdication of my responsibilities as a reviewer to let it go at that. So let me go on a bit. In terms of plot, this is a standard sci-fi adventure. The hero (whose name, let me remind you, is Dirk Moorcock) goes to a remote world to fight space pirates. Things proceed as you’d expect from there. The bare bones of the story are not that different from, say, a Henry Vogel book.

Except, it’s way, way more risqué. Commander Moorcock is like a spacefaring James Bond only more so, with the campy dialogue and the double-entendres dialed up to 11. And if you think the naughtiness stops at wordplay, you would be quite wrong. There are some very, er, lovingly described intimate scenes.

Remember 9 Lovers for Emily Spankhammer? This has the same sensibility, only in space and with more laser battles and parodies of Star Wars. It made me think of Buck Rogers, as well as some other, similar-sounding words.

It’s also funny as hell. This book is not to be taken seriously, and it reminds you of that at every turn. Even attempting to take it seriously could result in injury. This is a goofy, silly, sexy, and deliberately cheesy adventure story, that makes no pretense of being anything else.

If you want thought-provoking sci-fi on the order of Asimov or Clarke, look elsewhere. But if you want something that’s irresistibly amusing and you don’t mind a heavy dose of bawdy sex comedy with your sci-fi adventure (or vice-versa), if you want something that calls to mind the carefree, unashamed ribaldry of pulp; then this is the book for you.

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In my home state of Ohio, we’re a little more than halfway through lawn-mowing season. From March through November, the grass typically needs at least one, sometimes two or three mows per week. Fortunately, I enjoy mowing the lawn, but then again, I have a riding lawnmower, unlike the protagonist of this Chuck Litka short story.

You probably know Chuck Litka’s fantasy and sci-fi adventure stories, many of which I’ve reviewed on this blog. This book is different: it’s a slice of life story, it’s targeted at a younger audience, and it’s very short.

The core of the story concerns a young boy named Roy Williams and his long-held desire to be old enough to mow his family’s lawn. But when he finally gets his chance, his own avant-garde philosophy of lawn care comes into conflict with hidebound traditions of the old guard. (i.e. his father.)

Interestingly, although my own views on lawn mowing align more with Roy’s dad, reading this book actually made me think about cutting the lawn in a different way, and even inspired me to try out some different patterns.

As with all of Litka’s books, it’s well-written, with plenty of wit and good-natured humor. While it’s a departure in many ways from most of his books, young Roy is still a classic Litka character: a likable person who, though no real fault of his own, comes into conflict with the authorities.

The book is available for free on Smashwords, so you should go check it out. If you’re a lawn-care enthusiast, it might give you some ideas! If you’re not, it might make you see things from a different perspective. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side, but it’s still worth seeing what it looks like.

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The tagline for this book says it all: “Finally, a paranormal romance for people who hate paranormal romance.”

The simple way to describe this book is to say it’s a parody of Twilight. It’s got a vampire and a werewolf and the awkward girl who loves them, set at a high school in the Pacific Northwest.

Except it’s way more than that. There’s no doubt the book does get in a few good digs at the paranormal YA romance genre, but it’s also a very sweet story in its own right. Indeed, it’s such an authentic representation of what a high school populated by supernatural creatures would be like that it beats Twilight at its own game.

The book is very funny, but there are also elements of creepiness and even of melancholy that find their way into the story. This is a parody that becomes more than a parody, and takes on a life of its own, complete with interesting characters and a memorable setting.

No exaggeration: I felt more of a connection with The Usual Werewolves‘ Serena and her supernatural crushes than I ever did with Bella, Edward, or the rest of that crowd.

And Bertocci’s writing is something to behold. Again and again, what started out as a seemingly run-of-the-mill sentence would make a sharp turn in an unexpected direction, morphing into something surprising and funny. The author clearly knows how to turn a good phrase.

The best example of all is the descriptions of the music the werewolves listen to while cruising around late at night. There are numerous examples, but the best one comes near the end:

“A distinctive lick of piano sauntered into the air like it was far too cool for school, and they cheered as if God Himself had greeted them.”

I won’t say what song this is. But it’s by one of my favorite musicians, and with that hint, and especially in connection with the subject matter of this book, I bet you can guess what song it is.

If you’ve figured it out, or if you’ve just read the book and know the answer, listen to the opening of the song in question. Now, tell me that isn’t a perfect description? I’ve heard that song hundreds of times over the decades, but I could never have put it so perfectly.

The Usual Werewolves is an entertaining and surprisingly heartfelt take on the high school experience, told with a good-natured wit. I certainly can understand if, at the height of the Twilight craze, you swore that you would never read the “supernatural high school romance” genre. But if you made such a vow, it’s worth breaking for this book.