![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbz9E6TTl8ZS0uqvvreC4SsfH4C9VKkMRHl55PW2v4BI62hkBdG_gWSGo9Rpdeq-oEe4VdHsTJnVNYp3rYzlXXV5N9t_hURAKl-8X7uB-FbcE2MHfUInmrQ1VNJqEbZUnQyRug/s320/liesoflocklamora.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbeD1cBmGo9O9Cze9Uv1vJtk4Vd0o19Am5ODRSGyuZ3T5fji6VY8RvmOnPsAm5Zy4-p4qD2wwFq1z1K4QEwAbtVR2LkAPoOqWHQKl0IkX1KQQLEEFuNr_O7T0os0C7Tm779Hf_/s400/liesoflocklamorauk.jpg)
Enter into Neth Space and you will find thoughts and reviews of books and other media that fit the general definition of speculative fiction. This includes the various genres and sub-genres of fantasy, science fiction, epic fantasy, high fantasy, hard sci-fi, soft sci-fi, new weird, magical realism, cyberpunk, urban fantasy, slipstream, horror, alternative history, SF noir, etc. Thoughts are my own, I'm certainly not a professional, just an avid reader avoiding his day job.
“You like this car? You like it?” She was shrieking like a shoutygirl-presenter. João-Batista looking pityingly at her. On the car cams the boys looked as if a bomb had gone off under their Knight Rider LEDS. Don’t bail, Lady Lady Lady, don’t bail. “It’s yours! It’s your big star prize. It’s all right, you’re on a TV game show!”
Gunga spoke the rhythm, the bass chug, the pulse of the city and the mountain. Médio was the chatterer, the loose and cheeky gossip of the street and the bar, the celebrity news. Violinha was the singer, high over bass and rhythm, hymn over all, dropping onto the rhythm of gunga and médio then cartwheeling away, like the spirit of capoeira itself, into rhythmic flights and plays, feints and improvisations, shaking its ass all over the place.
The loading ramp extends, lowers. Steel hits road. Sparks shower around the brothers Oliveira. Black Metal beckons them again: Come on, come on, on the ramp. Sparks peel away round Edson as he lines up the run. He’s a businessman, not a stunt-rider. Edson edges forward: the concentration pill gives him micro-accelerations and relative velocities. Wheel on wheel off wheel on wheel off, wheel on; then Edson throttles hard, surges forward, and brakes and declutches simultaneously.
Luis Quinn sipped his coffee, rapidly achieving equilibrium with the general environment. An unrelenting climate; no release in the dark of the night. A cigar would be a fine thing. After months of enforced chastity aboard Cristo Redentor, he found his appetite for smoke had returned redoubled. The beginning of attachment, of indiscipline?
Set in a Victorian era and a New Amsterdam still apart of the British Empire, where many of the familiar vampire tropes made popular by the likes of Anne Rice and Laurell K. Hamilton, and a good bit of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle the mix, Elizabeth shows what can be produced at the hands of a talented writer. Think vampires, sorcerers, detectives, political revolutionaries, corrupt aristocracy, and a British Empire still in its prime where places like New England never achieved independence framed with a skillfully woven character study.
Zombie Log – Day 1
6:40 am – I decided to bike to work today in spite of the extreme heat. Lots of helicopters in the air, must be a bad traffic day – yeah me for biking.
7:00 am – NPR is telling me that there is a plague of zombies taking over the world (checks, no it’s not April 1). This sucks, but at least I won’t have to finish that damn report that’s due next week. Of course I chose to bike today – getting out of town is going to be a bitch.
8:00 am – Home now, it looks like some zombies trashed the car, damn! Reports are that the university was overrun…sounds like my wife is a zombie now. The cell phone isn’t working – maybe the first good news today.
8:30 am – I biked to Wal-Mart, I may hate the store, but there isn’t an easier place get a shotgun that I know of. On the way I saw the weirdest thing – a young (and apparently enterprising) zombie was selling water and other supplies on the side of the street. He offered me lemonade, I passed.
8:45 am – I stole a truck and bunch of gas – Wal-Mart was pretty well trashed, but I got what I needed. Zombies are everywhere, but I think they don’t like the heat…first time in my adult life I could truly say I wish I had a flame thrower.
9:30 am – Went to university anyway, it seems that the geology department put a hell of fight. Wife not a zombie – but she is in a terrible mood. I checked my blog – yes I’m addicted. The guys over in Australia are holding out well, and following all the happenings.
10:00 am – Zombie speed bumps!
11:00 am – Fortify Josh’s house since it’s pretty nice and where we keep the homebrew (we sacked Trader Joes on the way).
2:00 pm – Apparently when it gets over 105 degrees zombies tend to spontaneously combust. Summer in Phoenix is good for something.
4:00 pm – Burning zombie flesh smells really bad – maybe spontaneous zombie combustion isn’t as cool as we first thought.
4:30 pm – Heard a report that zombie Dick Cheney has taken over the military and is invading countries to corner the market in brains…typical.
6:00 pm – Homebrew is running low, we are considering suicide run to empty out the brew supply store.
8:00 pm – We emptied the homebrew store and found more guns – tonight’s going to be a hell of brew party. It’s cooler now – zombies are back out. Zombie speed bump is just as fun now as it was this morning. NPR is off the air, but conservative talk shows still going strong – typical (one has zombie Cheney lined up for an interview at 9:00…I’ll pass). It seems that there’s a call for a new organization intent on keeping Mexican zombies out of the country – unbelievable.
9:30 pm – Bruce Campbell movies are funnier than ever!
10:30 pm – Josh prefers the Belgian Abbey while shooting zombies, I stand by my British IPA. Mike and Chris are adding the aroma hops to Zombie Ale (no fooling around with this one – it’s an Imperial Stout). The wife doesn’t think much of our conversations.
11:45 pm – It turns out that zombie plagues aren’t so bad, I haven’t had this much fun in ages. Later we’re going out for drunken zombie speed bumps – Chris gets to drive first. I’m riding shotgun.