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jiritt 's review for:
Red Rabbit
by Alex Grecian
I really, really enjoyed this. I haven’t read any of Alex Grecian’s other work but I absolutely loved his writing style and was completely immersed into the story and world with his language and metaphors, which added to the story’s flavor and color (first paragraph, Rose describes her future as squatting somewhere on the road ahead of her, yes! That’s how that feels!). It may be a bit meandering, but a western style adventure is meant to be, and the undercurrents of spirits/magic, needing/giving support and help, and of course the point of novel itself, faithfully carries the reader along (second paragraph, the way Joe wonders how many spirits he has unknowingly interacted with, foreshadowing the way he will interact with the rest of the living characters throughout the book). Excellent, 4.5 stars.
1st excerpt:
He looked her up and down and nodded, “you’ll do. I’m Joe Mullins.” He took her suitcase and led her to a buckboard with two sway backed mules hitched and waiting. He helped her up into the seat and set her back in the bag and then clambered up beside her. As the wagon rolled away from the station Rose felt a dizzying sensation of separation from her past. Her life, as she had known it, was now far behind her and her future was an alien thing, plain and unwanted squatting somewhere on the path ahead.
2nd excerpt:
Joe reached out and touched the man’s sledgehammer as it came down on the end of a post knowing it would pass through his hand without harming him. To his surprise, the hammer stopped in midair vibrating furiously against Joe’s hand, then it freed itself and continued its downward swing, smashing the post into the ground. The rancher didn’t appear to notice the interruption. Joe remembered the butterfly that had stuck in midair for a moment and he thought about the strange timelessness he had experienced since his death, the sun moving erratically through the sky, the seasons changing on a whim. Curious, he reached out again and touched the rancher’s shoulder. The man stopped what he was doing, seemed to freeze for a second or two and let the sledgehammer drop to his side. Then he looked around, scratched his chin, confused, shook his head and picked up the hammer again. Joe thought back on all the times he had entered a room and forgotten why he was there, as if his memory had skipped a beat. He wondered how many spirits had touched him, and how many he had walked through, oblivious to their presence. “I apologize, sir,” he said to the man. “I mean to harm or insult.” Joe walked back up to the trail and continued on his way, pondering his encounter with the rancher and the new thing he had learned: time, it seemed, was not a straight line.
Bonus:
This just made me laugh out loud:
“Mr. Goggins, have you ever heard of a person who could change shape?” “I knew fat man once who took ill when he got hold of some bad pork. In a fortnight he turned himself into a skinny man.” “That—isn’t, what…” LMFAO
And this hit me like a truck:
Moses left the appaloosa where she was tethered and walked on up the road. Mud sucked at his boots and the ends of his trousers grew heavy. His wet clothing stuck his skin. The buildings in Riddle were as cramped and crowded as most other towns Moses had seen. The saloon had a sign depicting the bloody stump of a finger. Moses thought about Ned’s body laying in a coffin down in Buckridge. He thought about getting out of the rain, stopping in at the saloon and having drink. But he pressed on. If he ever met up with Ned again, his friend would want to hear the end of the story.
1st excerpt:
He looked her up and down and nodded, “you’ll do. I’m Joe Mullins.” He took her suitcase and led her to a buckboard with two sway backed mules hitched and waiting. He helped her up into the seat and set her back in the bag and then clambered up beside her. As the wagon rolled away from the station Rose felt a dizzying sensation of separation from her past. Her life, as she had known it, was now far behind her and her future was an alien thing, plain and unwanted squatting somewhere on the path ahead.
2nd excerpt:
Joe reached out and touched the man’s sledgehammer as it came down on the end of a post knowing it would pass through his hand without harming him. To his surprise, the hammer stopped in midair vibrating furiously against Joe’s hand, then it freed itself and continued its downward swing, smashing the post into the ground. The rancher didn’t appear to notice the interruption. Joe remembered the butterfly that had stuck in midair for a moment and he thought about the strange timelessness he had experienced since his death, the sun moving erratically through the sky, the seasons changing on a whim. Curious, he reached out again and touched the rancher’s shoulder. The man stopped what he was doing, seemed to freeze for a second or two and let the sledgehammer drop to his side. Then he looked around, scratched his chin, confused, shook his head and picked up the hammer again. Joe thought back on all the times he had entered a room and forgotten why he was there, as if his memory had skipped a beat. He wondered how many spirits had touched him, and how many he had walked through, oblivious to their presence. “I apologize, sir,” he said to the man. “I mean to harm or insult.” Joe walked back up to the trail and continued on his way, pondering his encounter with the rancher and the new thing he had learned: time, it seemed, was not a straight line.
Bonus:
This just made me laugh out loud:
“Mr. Goggins, have you ever heard of a person who could change shape?” “I knew fat man once who took ill when he got hold of some bad pork. In a fortnight he turned himself into a skinny man.” “That—isn’t, what…” LMFAO
And this hit me like a truck:
Moses left the appaloosa where she was tethered and walked on up the road. Mud sucked at his boots and the ends of his trousers grew heavy. His wet clothing stuck his skin. The buildings in Riddle were as cramped and crowded as most other towns Moses had seen. The saloon had a sign depicting the bloody stump of a finger. Moses thought about Ned’s body laying in a coffin down in Buckridge. He thought about getting out of the rain, stopping in at the saloon and having drink. But he pressed on. If he ever met up with Ned again, his friend would want to hear the end of the story.