I don’t usually faun over a Goosebumps…and I’ll continue to keep not doing that in this case. I don’t have a weak stomach, but this latest entry in adult-oriented Goosebumps really tried my intestinal fortitude. R.L. Stine’s account of a mentally handicapped pig farmer who falls in love with his prize piggy is really light on one kind of squeal and really heavy in another way less appealing and squeal. I’ll just say this: if they don’t have a PETA in Belgium, then they really need a PETA in Belgium.
One of my favorite pulp historical fiction novels. Farting Oaks is like Gone With the Wind with actual wind. I love it. So sensual and smelly.
Another in a series of adult-themed Goosebumps. This one was pretty sedate for the first 30 pages, then by page 31 it went from “oh, that’s probably an adult film” to “oh, I might be on an Interpol watchlist now.” I’d recommend it to anyone who likes Serbian YA fiction and Brazzers.
One of my favorite series. A real time saver. These stories were part of the Nancy Drew Mysteries, but because of a miscommunication with printers in the UK, the titles were literally the denouement of each mystery. Spoiled before you got past the cover, they proved a great way for the literate-but-lazy among us to pretend to be hip to the Nancy Drew craze, which was like, a hundred years ago.
One of my favorite Conan novels. Howard, de Camp, and Carter really made a departure from the usual fare and steered the Conan-mobile straight into a more practical realm. Though his methods were a bit unorthodox, Conan’s patients never walked the same again, which was a good thing in this case.
First in a series of more adult-themed Goosebumps that never quite caught on in the U.S. or North America or this hemisphere. This one was a tough read. The sodomy was totally within acceptable limits, but the coprophilia was a little too intense for my taste (rimshot [another rimshot]).