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cynstagraphy's reviews
126 reviews
Brilliant Copywriting: How to Craft the Most Interesting and Effective Copy Imaginable by Roger Horberry
4.0
Brilliant and brief. A good way to get started in the world of copywriting and remembering John E. Kennedy, father of copywriting. His model of salesmanship-on-print and everything he stands for seems to have been forgotten by contemporary advertising. Want an example? One word: "simples". Ugh.
Out by Natsuo Kirino
3.0
Compelling. Exciting. Could do with less fat hate and more final resolution for the other (not a spoiler!) two ladies. Also, loved the tiny tribute to Ryu (the best) Murakami. :)
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
2.0
No lo pude terminar. Demasiado frívolo, demasiadas marcas, demasiado... psicópata.
House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
5.0
Envolvente de principio a fin. Peligrosamente adictivo y hermoso. Cuando lo estaba leyendo, a veces me sentía como Johnny Truant si no se hubiera acostado con todo el elenco de Rock of Love. Pero sin miedo, sin paranoia. Varios sueños en la oscuridad, en la nada, explorando ese universo paralelo en la residencia de Will Navidson y Karen Green. ¿Universo paralelo? ¿Y qué tal si era parte de este universo? ¿Qué tal, si como en la última, última, última página del libro...? Cuando estuve a punto de terminarlo, soñé que estaba flotando en la oscuridad. En la gran nada. Como le sucede a ALGUIEN en un momento cumbre de la historia. Y como ese ALGUIEN, me sentí en paz. Si así es la muerte, quiero morirla cuando llegue. Si así es la vida, quiero vivirla en este momento. En libertad, en paz, sin límites, sin techo, sin piso, sin paredes.
Temporada de caza para el león negro by Tryno Maldonado
3.0
Corto, fácil de leer en un viaje de autobús o avión; pero para nada fatuo como libro de aeropuerto. Me gustó que los capítulos abarcaran una hoja cada uno, los más extensos dos o tres. Puede que mi opinión esté sesgada porque estuve varios años metida en el mundo del arte (más como estudiante), y pude identificar varias cosas ridículamente comunes en la vida real. Por ejemplo, la chica francesa que se cree más mexicana que los nopales, y todas las redes de amantes y personajes que obtienen su puesto a sentones. Golo no está tan alejado de la realidad, aunque parece que Tryno Maldonado lo quiere mostrar como un Manic Pixie Dream Boy. ¿O más bien Manic Pixie Nightmare Boy? No quedé satisfecha con el final. No dice cómo fue que se dieron cuenta que pasó lo que pasó, ni cómo pasó. Fue vago y tajante para una historia llena de anécdotas descabelladas. Merecía un final igual de descabellado, y no tan sin clímax, sin resolución, sin significado. ¿Habrá una segunda parte, o Tryno se dormirá en sus laureles con el éxito de su libro nuevo? Por cierto, quiero un cuadro de Martínez, el gato con mancha azul.
Strange Way Out by Troy Blackford
4.0
This is the first Troy Blackford book/story I've ever read, and it surely won't be the last. A bit House of Leaves, a bit Black Mirror, Strange Way Out needs to be turned into a film or into a TV episode right away. Reading this story in one evening made me feel more excited than Prime Time drama or movie night.
SPOILER: I'd only object about the "love story" bit. My kingdom for a story where people from the opposite sex don't fall in love with each other. Also, my kingdom for a Happy Hooker.
SPOILER: I'd only object about the "love story" bit. My kingdom for a story where people from the opposite sex don't fall in love with each other. Also, my kingdom for a Happy Hooker.
First There Wasn't, Then There Was by Troy Blackford
4.0
For the first time in a very, very long while, I cried after finishing a book. I’ve never been a soppy person with books and films, even if I love them so much. But it just happened. I welled up.
And who did this? None other than Troy Blackford, a brave little writer from the Twin Cities, self-published most of his life, and using the power of social media to advertise his novels and short stories on paper and Kindle.
His latest instalment is called First There Wasn’t, Then There Was, and I refuse to give you an in-depth analysis. Why? Because I want it to shock you senseless. I want you to dive into it, no spoilers in mind, and I want it to carry you away.
Four corporate pawns get together before work, at lunchtime and after work to have a smoke while leaning against a wall. These leaners occupy themselves on the lightest trivialities of life and entertainment, but lately they have been intrigued by an occasional wanderer. He comes and goes, hidden in a winter overcoat, talking to himself as he carries a bin bag on his shoulder. “What is he talking about?”, they wonder. So they borrow a dictaphone, sneak it into his pocket by lunchtime and then retrieve it by the end of the work shift. On the next day, they listen to it. And boy, does he talk.
All I will say is that there are passages that could be very triggering to those who one way or another have been involved in the War On Drugs – mostly as unlucky witnesses or victims who have no idea what is going on. You still won’t have an idea what is going on once you’ve gone past these hard bits, but it won’t feel like harsh reminders of a dark reality. It won’t feel like a reality at all.
And yet that finale feels like the realest punch in the stomach. The wildest call to action.
Yes, you can find the odd spelling and continuity mistake, and every memory is “the last thing I remember, then everything was a blur”, but what can you do when you’re a one-man band? Plus, what if the memories kept coming and going amidst the dirt, arriving unannounced and erasing all trace of themselves as they leave? What if everything else was, indeed, a blur?
Just like his début novella Strange Way Out could easily be adapted as an episode of Black Mirror, First There Wasn’t could be turned into a motion picture and directed by Zach Snyder, belonging to the same fairy tale action horror world of Sucker Punch. Without any dancing, of course.
But with lots of singing. Bird singing.
And who did this? None other than Troy Blackford, a brave little writer from the Twin Cities, self-published most of his life, and using the power of social media to advertise his novels and short stories on paper and Kindle.
His latest instalment is called First There Wasn’t, Then There Was, and I refuse to give you an in-depth analysis. Why? Because I want it to shock you senseless. I want you to dive into it, no spoilers in mind, and I want it to carry you away.
Four corporate pawns get together before work, at lunchtime and after work to have a smoke while leaning against a wall. These leaners occupy themselves on the lightest trivialities of life and entertainment, but lately they have been intrigued by an occasional wanderer. He comes and goes, hidden in a winter overcoat, talking to himself as he carries a bin bag on his shoulder. “What is he talking about?”, they wonder. So they borrow a dictaphone, sneak it into his pocket by lunchtime and then retrieve it by the end of the work shift. On the next day, they listen to it. And boy, does he talk.
All I will say is that there are passages that could be very triggering to those who one way or another have been involved in the War On Drugs – mostly as unlucky witnesses or victims who have no idea what is going on. You still won’t have an idea what is going on once you’ve gone past these hard bits, but it won’t feel like harsh reminders of a dark reality. It won’t feel like a reality at all.
And yet that finale feels like the realest punch in the stomach. The wildest call to action.
Yes, you can find the odd spelling and continuity mistake, and every memory is “the last thing I remember, then everything was a blur”, but what can you do when you’re a one-man band? Plus, what if the memories kept coming and going amidst the dirt, arriving unannounced and erasing all trace of themselves as they leave? What if everything else was, indeed, a blur?
Just like his début novella Strange Way Out could easily be adapted as an episode of Black Mirror, First There Wasn’t could be turned into a motion picture and directed by Zach Snyder, belonging to the same fairy tale action horror world of Sucker Punch. Without any dancing, of course.
But with lots of singing. Bird singing.
Opposite the Tourbus by Sophia Walker
4.0
If you're going through hell, just keep going. Sophie and the people in her stories have done so, post-traumatic, mentally homeless, wounded and beaten up. But after the immediate hell there's still a journey, and the reward is strength. It doesn't get better. You get stronger. Perhaps at some point you will find safety and the perfect ground to plant new seeds.