Jay

Erwin Castillo writes clearly enough that his prose is quite cryptic yet metaphorical in essence. This is funny considering The Firewalkers and the supplemental, companion piece The Watch of La Diane are two functionally different stories yet inherently share the same DNA: an outlaying of the extents to which the West has influenced and assimilated itself into the Filipino.

But the way each story treats this assimilation is radically different. Firewalkers examines a character's place in the aftermath of the Philippine-American war, while La Diane is a shorter story that whittles away at a Filipino immigrant's days in America (and in a way, his physical and spiritual death as a Filipino).

To say this book confuses me occasionally is an understatement. Castillo writes the same way inner monologues in Disco Elysium go unfiltered when you max out the "Inland Empire" trait: it's incredibly and swathingly poetic, but also disrupts the reader's ability to place themselves in the moment where the character is because Castillo's characters often begin to feel some kind of omniscience as they monologue further and further.

I had fun, but holy shit does this get jarring. La Diane especially has the insane crudeness that is subtly embedded in The Firewalkers but is comparatively untempered while also feeling a lot more romantic about things.

That was more intriguing than the first!

Cute little mystery book! Can't say I didn't enjoy it and I did find myself very enthused at the direction in which the book entertains and frightens you with how the murders operate and such.

It’s really hard to appreciate in full unless you are a curious scholar of Kafka. But he does write with elegance and when the lines work, they do. Just as it does when the last letter appears and the story of a relationship in letters ends on a bittersweet one.

Not since Raymond Carver's "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" have I felt a surge inside of me after reading a collection of short stories. With SWWLYAYDG it is an intensely curated mishmash of stories built to rollercoaster your feelings in ways unimaginable. The type where you can't binge this in one go because every single story is made to hit you somewhere. It could be about firm lawyers, or bizarre wedding rituals, or scientists walking into doors, but the feelings are just the same.

It's a considerable flex that Raphael Bob-Waksberg can write prose like this that stands quite differently (or complimentary) to his work on Bojack Horseman. A clear display of talent and finesse at work.

The most majestic thing about the Dune series is how despite its cyclical conquests for power, deceit, and survival, the world Frank Herbert crafted is nothing short of spectacular. By Chapterhouse, the stakes are set while the worlds feel more immense with each page. Admittedly, it revels in the same boredoms that strike Heretics down but even in how it focuses and finishes chapters there is a lingering intrigue with each one.

Which, of course, concludes in one of the more unfortunate cliffhangers of the saga. Whether it could be definitively said where the book would go or not, Chapterhouse still ends on a high note and a deservedly choice one to end Frank Herbert's saga on.