PRESS DELETE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE OFFENDED. PRESS IT NOW! NOW! I'M
WARNING YOU! THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO PRESS DELETE, OR RISK BEING
OFFENDED.
Okay then.
Emma said there had been no reviews of "I, Mutoid" so far, so I decided to
write one, and hope it'll attract more customers than it repels. There may be
spoilers herein (though not deliberate), so if you are planning on buying or
reading this anyhow and don't like spoilers, then delete this review. Read
the 'zine instead. Trust me, it'll be much more entertaining.
Anyhow. As you are all probably painfully aware, I have long had an unhealthy
fascination with mutoids. Perhaps it's the fact that they are manufactured
vampires, thus allowing me to indulge my inner goth without neglecting my
outer nerd. Or perhaps it's just that they're such snappy dressers, and get to
hang out with Travis and Servalan and shoot stuff. Well, whatever the case,
I've been anxiously awaiting the arrival of "I, Mutoid" for ages. And now here
it is! Yay! And now I've read the whole thing.
I won't discuss the specifics of individual stories, because while every one of
the stories is well-written and worth reading in its own right, I think they
become even more interesting when considered as a whole. It's fascinating
to see a wide range of writing styles all focused on this specific and
presumably relatively exotic topic.
There are 85 pages of stories, by twelve different authors, ranging in
length from Oliver Klosov's concise 100-word "drabbles" to 15 pages
(that'd be windy ol' me), with most being around five to 12 pages long,
and use a variety of voices, tenses, plots, characters... There are
mutoids, ex-mutoids, mutoids-to-be. In some cases the mutoid is the
narrator and/or main character, centre stage, while in others
he/she/it barely (or never) appears onstage at all.
There is nothing overtly humorous (I don't think--let's just say no overt
humour of the sort I am able to comprehend). A few uneasy laughs, but overall
the mood is pretty darn grim. And there's swearing and violence and sex,
and you're supposed to be over 21 if you're going to buy it.
Appearance-wise, it's about as minimal and utilitarian as possible. Plain
font, no art, very few italics. But any lack of slick production values is
more than made up for by the groovy black neoprene cover (sadly only available
on the first...forty, Emma?...so get 'em while you can), which feels like a
patch of the pelt of a cold-water surfer, and is, exactly as advertised, "warm
and bendy". I'd definitely like to see more rubber-clad literature in future.
--
"Don't you think secular humanism is yummy?"