Polska, Sucka!

Today’s review is for Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Book by Brian Froud and Terry Jones. A special thanks goes out to Mark Masters for sending us a copy to review.

Rocket: For a kid’s book this thing sure has a lot of boobs.

Dmitri: Squeezy, mushed-up boobs.

Skylark: (Giggling stupidly through his nose until cackling bursts through.) How in the hell can you say that with a straight face?

Dmitri: (Mock-crying but actually laughing out loud.) Fairies died a hideous crunchy death to bring us… I can’t. Bear… Gods-dammit where are my meds?

Rocket: Well, at least they have that one section with the weird paper thingy that help protect the innocent from becoming perverted. It did protect your innocence, right Laisandra?

Laisandra: It did not, it merely taunted it and stomped it to a pulp of nothing. I see nothing humorous about a book glorifying the death of fairies.

Dmitri: You see nothing humorous about anything.

Laisandra: So what if I don’t. Fairies are beautiful creatures of fantasy. Delicate and precious, like angels of G-d. But, this Lady Cottington just crushes them like the dreams of a thousand starving children living in the rotting corpse of what used to be a third world country. This book glorifies death, and the destruction of beauty. It is the face of humanity. That wicked disease, humanity is a festering boil upon the universe. Life is worthless. It makes me want to die.

Rocket: (Comforting) Honey, it’s just a funny book with disturbingly pretty watercolor paintings of crushed fairies and a cool fake journal by this one lady that doesn’t even exist. The older version of her is played by Terry Jones on the DVD that comes with the book.

Dmitri: (Laughing Maniacally) Terry Jones in drag is hilarious.

Skylark: (Flippant) In other words, it’s comedic fiction. Don’t take it too seriously, you teenage drama queen.

Rocket: Has anybody ever told you that you’re an asshole?

Skylark: Repeatedly.

Dmitri: (Laughing Obnoxiously) Have some vodka, you can be an asshole too.

Rocket: Dude, you drink way too much.

Skylark: Rocket, you drink bootleg Everclear straight until you puke blood.

Rocket: Yeah, but I’m not an obnoxious alcoholic like he is.

Dmitri: No, I’m just a friendly, horny alcoholic. (Gropes Rocket’s breast.)

Rocket: (Gives Dmitri a sharp left-hook.) That’s for my pressed-Russian collection. (He drops down cold.)

Laisandra: (Deadpan) Now that was funny.

Skylark: Um… whatever. I highly recommend Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Book. It’s not really a kid’s book, but it’s highly enjoyable gallows humor with extremely adept artwork. This is Skylark signing off. Thank you for reading.

Rocket: You tricked me! This was not a romance novel at all. I thought Bergstom was so nice when I started this book. Why do you make me read these things aloud? The descriptions were so beautiful; totally engaging to the senses and stuff and then…
Skylark: You also thought the Police’s “Every Move You Make” was romantic. You need to learn that there is nothing loving about someone having a “Die Rebecca Schaffer” obsession.
Rocket: Oh that poor woman!
Skylark: Forget about that. In the defense of romance, I thought the relationship between Dora and Jerry was very romantic, in a pulpy film noir sort of way — not entirely unpredictable yet, satisfying. For the most part, I kept wondering, “what’s going to happen next.” I needed to know. Don’t even get me started on the psychology and secret intrigues. This was a great adventure with lots of gray and fuzzy areas. I love reading about humans.
Rocket: Romantic? That sex sceme at the end was creepiest thing ever. Oh my GAWD! I am still having nightmares.
Skylark: Oh come on, that whole sequence made me want to own a beagle. Kilpatrick, really has a good instict for tying loose ends and keeping continuity. He makes a complex spaghetti of a situation seem as simple as a piece of cake, and that is a testament to his craftsmanship.
Rocket: Want a Twinkie? *Offers one to Sylark*
Skylark: I like Twinkies and I like this book.
Rocket: Hustlers from Krakow will like any twinkie for $20, just like the ones in Los Angeles. I’m kidding, Polish hos are cheaper. Hey I actually learned something from reading this novel!
Skylark: *Irritated* Now that’s low. Just because I’m a former sex worker…
Rocket: You know It’s true, you ho!
Skylark: HO? A ho! I am not a…
Rocket: You just like books with dead people and things that disturb the mind.
Skylark: Let’s not focus on the corpses or the visceral, let’s focus on David Kilpatrick’s rich prose and careful attention to detail.
Rocket: Like the rich and detailed description of some sick bastard sexually mutilating a Barbie doll or some woman getting her skin scraped while falling off her bike.
Skylark: Not specifically… You also can tell that he did his homework. It almost seems like he worked for the police at some point in his life.
Rocket: Rich and detailed descriptions of grossness are not cool, I don’t care how well-written they are.
Skylark: He’s aiming for gritty realism. Do you really think that sexual predators are pleasant people to be around when they are having fits of madness?
Rocket: No… But how is sweeping for hidden surveillance devices realistic for some regular cop? It seems too cloak and dagger to be real.
Skylark: You’re too young to remember the spy fest or the KGB before the wall came down… Oh and don’t get me started on the Patriot Act.
Rocket: Creepy!
Skylark: How can you not like a book with little jokes like a perfume named “Some Flowers” in French or a line like, “…like a macho asshole complex”?
Rocket: How do you know French? You can’t even read.
Skylark: I fucked a hot French guy…
Rocket: I don’t want to know.
Skylark: It was before we were engaged.
Rocket: I said I don’t want to know.
Skylark: But…
Rocket: Skylark, what is wrong with you? I admit that there were some really cute touches, like the gay jokes and the stuff about shopping. Still, why do you insist of inflicting this kind of psychological trauma on me? I don’t ever want to read about men confessing things about little girls getting anally raped with lube or doggies getting burnt.
Skylark: Come on, you have to admit that Jerry the Pervert-Hunter is brilliant, and so is his banter with Dora. Kilpatrick’s cool dark humor really is what made this book a page turner for me. I wonder if he digs Vacchs? Brains and pulp is always a very good combo.
Rocket: The book still grossed me out. Kind of like CSI, only ickier.
Skylark: Are pederasts and sexual predators not gross?
Rocket: Okay, granted but, it was still icky to read.
Skylark: Perhaps, but it was a damn good read.
Rocket: Not if you were in the mood for a romance novel about Hollywood stars, *glaring at Skylark* you weasely… um… trickster!
Skylark: Sour grapes, baby. Today’s review was for David Kilpatrick‘s L.A. Stalker. We hope this column has been helpful. Thank you for reading.

Rocket: What the hell are you doing with those scissors?
Skylark: I’m going to cut some pictures out of this Victorian clip art book, so I can decoupage this lunch box.
Rocket: (Snatches the book from Skylark’s hands in the nick of time.) Dude, this is not a Dover clip art book of Victorian art. This is Edward Gorey’s Amphigorey Also. It’s a book from 1983 and it still has that copyright stuff that’s legal and shit, so it’s not in the public domain.
Skylark: Copyright laws can eat my ass.
Rocket: Plus, I’m borrowing it from Vas.
Skylark: Ooh that’s a pity. I wanted to use the color picture of the frog on a bicycle.
Rocket: Tough titty, itty bitty. This is contemporary ficton
Skylark: Really? The artwork looks a bit dated.
Rocket: It’s not dated, it’s retro.
Skylark: As in pseudo-vintage?
Rocket: I guess. It looks old.
Skylark: It’s wonderfully intricate, but I wish the linework wasn’t so busy in some of the pieces. Overall, the style is charming and pleasing to the eye and it is meticulously executed. I think that has a lot to do with why I wanted to decorate my Victorian-themed lunch box with some of the art.
Rocket: The art is cute, but wait until I read the Gorey’s stories to you, they are uporary with just a tiny bit of phantasmagory.
Skylark: Leave the poetry to me, okay.
Rocket: What’s wrong with my poetry? I’m just trying to get into the groove for this review.
Skylark: Ew.
Rocket: Oh, whatever you crochety green-haired bastard. This book is weird fun for the whole family, although really tiny kids might be scared by some of the stories and art.
Skylark: I am disappointed I can’t make decoupage with it.
Rocket: Sorry. Here, use this book instead. Oh yeah, and this one is pretty sweet too.
Skylark: I will have the best lunch box ever!
Rocket: By the way, why are you decorating a lunch box with a Victorian theme?
Skylark: It’s pretty and I want to give that incredibly hot HIV-positive goth guy I met the other day a lovely gift. You know, a bunch of adult implements in a really cute container. If I impress him, I might be able to get him into b… (Skylark nearly incriminates himself and stops talking.)
Rocket: (Suspicious.) Get him into what?
Skylark: Um… I gotta go Rocket, I have an appointment at the… um… hair salon, yeah, the hair salon. (Runs away.)
Rocket: (Chases after Skylark.) You bastard, you’re going to cheat on me with a goth dude. You slut! I’m gonna kill you.