Back in October, I shared some thoughts on the passing of KISS guitarist Ace Frehley for PopMatters.

He’s the reason I love music. He’s the reason I wrote a book. He’s also the reason I decided to stop seeing my favorite artists live.

I am grateful to him for all of it.

Get ready to add to your TBR file, as more and more outlets are publishing round ups of the new year’s most exciting books. The BBC highlights 40 titles while The New York Times details releases through September of 2026.

What are you looking forward to reading this year?

Welcome back to Slushpile.

Slushpile is run by Scott McKenzie and John Biggs. It’s been one of the best sites on publishing and writing on the web for almost a decade. Founded in 2005, it’s been publishing on an off for twenty years.

My name is Thomas Scott McKenzie and I grew up on a horse farm in Bourbon County, KY. I received a master’s degree in creative writing from The University of Mississippi. I have published work in Sync, Laptop, Articulate, The Daily Planet, The Panhandler,The Aethlon: Journal of Sport and Literature, The Dead Mule.com, and others.

The patron techie saint of Slushpile is John Biggs. John Biggs is an entrepreneur, consultant, writer, and maker. He spent fifteen years as an editor for Gizmodo, CrunchGear, and TechCrunch and has a deep background in hardware startups, 3D printing, and blockchain. His work has appeared in Men’s Health, Wired, and the New York Times.

I shared my introduction to Ozzy Osbourne as part of a roundup of reminiscences of the Prinze of Darkness over at PopMatters. The legend's death was a good excuse to look back at the first Ozzy album I enjoyed.

My review of Murderland: Crime and Bloodlust in the Time of Serial Killers by Caroline Fraser posted yesterday over at PopMatters. The Pulitzer Prize winner makes an intriguing argument that toxic emissions played a role in shaping what some criminologists call "the golden age of serial killers."

This book is creepy and disturbing, so don't read it if you're squeamish. But if you're not bothered by such topics, it's a good read in a sort of True Detective vibe way.

Smith had just recently published a new novel called Hotel Ukraine that was announced to be his last work. His protagonist Arkady Renko was characterized as having Parkinson's himself. So this recent novel was to be the last featuring the character, and the last book from the author.

This year, the institution has garnered more headlines. So I wonder if it will affect attendance of the National Book Festival, positively or negatively, or if there will be any sort of protests or stunts.

Regardless, the Library announced the author line up this week and it's great. So many great names. And I'm thrilled to see longtime Slushpile.net favorite Stephen Graham Jones listed. He did one of the earliest Slushpile interviews almost twenty years ago and it remains one of my favorite literary conversations ever. He terrifies and writes and publishes prolifically, like Joyce Carol Oates with an chainsaw.

The event is September 6 at the Walter E. Washington Convention Center in Washington, D.C.

A good chunk of the book focuses on Social Distortion and Mike Ness, who is quite possibly the coolest man alive. So that's worth the cover price alone.

Whether legislating different would be effective is a question that this country will not answer.

So, Jens Ludwig provides a new way of thinking about violence involving firearms. In Unforgiving Places: The Unexpected Origins of American Gun Violence, the Pritzker Director of the University of Chicago’s Crime Lab suggests applying a behavioral economics lens to the discussion of violence

“Why have the policies of the past not had more impact?” Ludwig writes. “The answer is that explanations of gun violence as the result of either bad people or tragic circumstances are deeply incomplete.”

The professor uses two communities, Greater Grand Crossing and South Shore, in Chicago for discussion. The two neighborhoods are literally separated by a single street. They are governed by the same laws, patrolled by the same police department, adjudicated by the same court system. Their residents have the same racial composition and households in both areas bring about forty-five to fifty percent of the national average median income. 

Yet, shooting victimization rates are about sixty percent higher in one neighborhood over the other. 

Given the objective similarities of the communities, “the fact that Greater Grand Crossing has so much more gun violence than South Shore tells us there must be something else – not just evil people, not just social injustice—that drives violence,” Ludwig explains. 

Most shootings in America are not carried out by a Joker or Penguin level genius mastermind. Nor are they a calculated decision made because the new district attorney isn’t going to prosecute anyone. Instead, Ludwig explains, most shootings are a momentary reaction, a tragic response to split second circumstances. 

Unforgiving Places: The Unexpected Origins of Gun Violence by Jens Ludwig is a serious book. Written by a distinguished academic, published by the University Press of Chicago, this is not a hot take by a social media personality. It's deeply researched and is not light reading for the beach. But is precisely the type of nuanced thinking that we should encourage. If you’re far right or far left politically, then you’re gonna hate this text because the mere mention of the topic sets you off in one direction or the other. But for the majority in the center, Ludwig’s book provides a unique perspective. It reads evenly and fairly without demonizing either side.

Plus, any academic text that quotes Ozzy Osbourne has gotta be a good addition to the library.

The younger McGinnis wrote the wonderful novels The Delivery Man and Carousel Court. So my personal expectations are high for this memoir.

Looking forward to it.

I discovered Greenfield's work in his amazing magazine story about methamphetamine's introduction to the Midwest by a television star's wife. He's a writer I've followed ever since and he has been publicly sharing updates of his family's experience with the wildfire on social media. His ninety-five year old mother also lost her home nearby.

Tragically, Greenfield's won't be the last amazing well written story from a talented journalist and author.

In short, anyone with a decent amount of research could have written this book. Personal stories, insights, intimate memories ain't present. The book quotes -- over and over again -- interviews with the late guitar legend Eddie Van Halen. If you're a guitar geek, you've already heard these stories, seen these quotes.

It's not plagiarism, because Alex and co-writer repeatedly say, "As Ed told Steve Rosen" and "As Ted Templeman writes" throughout the text. They give credit. So you should give those writers your cash. Go by their books instead.

Werman started as a label executive and moved into production. Along the way, he helped introduce REO Speedwagon, Boston, Cheap Trick, and Ted Nugent to the world. In the studio, he produced the likes of the folks mentioned in the book title, as well as Molly Hatchet, Krokus, Lita Ford, and others. In total, Werman worked on twenty-three gold or platinum selling albums.

Perhaps the strongest part of Turn It Up is Werman's explication of songs (what makes them good, what makes them bad), the recording process, producing, and mixing. Werman interestingly points to songs that he did not work on as examples of artistic choices. For example, he identifies a Foo Fighters song that he would have handled different, to put a different spin on Dave Grohl's vocals. Werman acknowledges that his alternative take might have been better, or it might have been worse. So much of art is, obviously, subjective.

Werman's tales of backstage with the musicians are fun, but light. If you're a fan of these bands, you probably know most of the excess. The bookshelf is full of those tales of decadence. If sordid details are what you're after, turn to one of those other titles.

But if you're interested in an honest recount of the era, Tom Werman's Turn It Up more than succeeds. He is refreshingly honest about his career after trends shifted away and it's nice to learn about his current career as the proprietor of a bed-and-breakfast.

Most would say I’m fairly educated on the subject as I know who expert Jeff Meldrum is and I’ve always wanted to write a story about hoaxer Ray Wallace. I know enough to avoid the glut of Animal Planet and Discovery Channel shows, simply because they’re too easy. “Wait! I heard something over there!” 

So, I was excited to see the publication of The Secret History of Bigfoot: Field Notes on a North American Monster by John O’Connor. I assumed it would be detailed, literate, and thoughtful, in all the ways that the filmed-in-the-dark-and-we-know-reality-shows-aren’t-real-but-they-want-us-to-believe-they-heard-a-shriek shows are not. 

The book lived up to my expectations in that it is, indeed, detailed, literate, and thoughtful. But it’s just too damn much.

Too many references. 

Too many allusions. 

Too many quotes. 

Too many ideas. 

O’Connor is clearly intelligent, well-read, and sincere in his love of nature. He undeniably has a tremendous amount of knowledge to draw upon in this examination of Sasquatch. And, he can clearly write well. The scenes where he focuses on a group of Bigfoot hunters tramping through the woods and telling tales are amusing and enjoyable. His description of nature is moving, when he’s not cramming in an encyclopedia’s information.

Chapter Seven, entitled “The Center of the World,” should be a standout as it delves into the grainy 1967 Patterson-Gimlin film that is the most recognizable depiction of Bigfoot in popular culture. It’s on par with the Surgeon’s Photo of the Loch Ness Monster that was published in 1934. Mention Bigfoot to almost anyone in America, and they’ll picture the striding creature looking over its shoulder at the startled filmmakers. They may not know the names of Patterson and Gimlin, but they know the film.

Patterson-Gimlin is one of my favorite aspects of the Bigfoot legend. Take a moment to look at a still from the 954-frame footage and you’ll see a space cleared by a recent flood. Sticks, logs, rocks, and natural detritus are countless. 

Unfortunately, O’Connor crams about as many references into the seventy-page chapter.

After an epigraph from Edward Abbey, the chapter begins with a Dave Eggers description of the California sky. Sergio Leone is invoked fourteen sentences later. A second Italian filmmaker, Sergio Corbucci, comes in the next sentence. Then a William Carlos Williams turn of phrase finishes the paragraph. 

A block quote from biologist and writer Ivan Sanderson occupies a quarter of a page. Travel writer Horace Kephart is quoted. A Bigfooter is described as looking like television actor Timothy Olyphant, the second time O’Connor used an actor for a subject description, after repeatedly calling a Bigfoot hunter in Kentucky “Jon Bernthal” in an earlier chapter.

Fear of Flying author Erica Jong is quoted on the subject of fame. Martin Luther King, Jr. makes an appearance. Sociologist Todd Gitlin is quoted, Pete Hamill is quoted, anthropologist Bronislaw Malinowski is quoted, and Princeton economists Anne Case and Angus Deaton are quoted at length from their work Deaths of Despair and the Future of Capitalism. COVID-19, suicide and liver disease appear, followed by 737 MAX jets. Economic researcher Valerie Wilson is cited, followed up by references to Purdue Pharma, OxyContin, and Donald Trump.

There’s an Alice in Wonderland reference, three-and-a-half pages of Thomas Merton discussion (complete with Steve McQueen and Marcus Aurelius references) that merges into about two pages of explication of Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle. The discussion of the Scandinavian writer’s massive project is broken up by a Back to the Future reference of Doc Brown, Marty McFly, the DeLorean, and lightning bolts that encompasses not just the original flick but the sequel as well.  Then it’s on to a quote about the passage of time from philosopher Jim Holt. 

Saint Paul and Saint Cuthbert are discussed, which flows into W.H. Auden and writer William Giraldi. 

A brief allusion to Camus and then we’re back at Merton which yields Nebuchadnezzar II, before a quote from Puritan minister Michael Wigglesworth which leads into a quote from Michigan politician Lewis Cass, which then goes into a Werner Herzog quote. Alexis de Tocqueville is featured in the same paragraph as those two, as is French American writer J. Hector St. John de Crevecoeur and DH Lawrence. 

Back to Merton, which begets Philip Larkin which begets Paul Muldoon. The Dalai Lama, Darwin, Milton, Shelley, and Shakespeare make appearances, rounded out by a quote from Thomas Bernhard. 

The chapter mercifully ends with a reference to psychologist Lisa Feldman Barrett. 

In this seventy-page chapter, there are:

--Thirty-seven references to non-Bigfoot related sources or experts or pop culture aspects
--Eight magazines named
--Forty-two place names identified
--Fourteen brands mentioned

Catholicism, Sufism, Buddhism, and even the lost continent of Lemuria are all mentioned.

Even descriptions involve name dropping, as the sky is “Eggerdian” and O’Connor’s wife has a “Pavolvian” reaction and a Bigfooter has a “near Calvinist work ethic” and time is “Einsteinian” and retrenchment is “Nixonian” and the ground is “Sissyphean.” Oh, and a battle is “Manichean.”

Remember, this isn’t accounting for the actual Bigfoot-related experts and source materials quoted in the chapter. That stuff is actually useful and relevant. 

The trouble is that O’Connor’s Patrick Bateman style of stat stuffing obscures his very interesting parallels between belief in cryptozoology and Q-Anon-style beliefs of our current political discourse. Chapter One, entitled “Shadow Country” has a fascinating examination of pseudoscience and the mental gymnastics we put ourselves through to support the things we do.  

There is an old writing program cliché about “writing the book you want to read.” Clearly, O’Connor has written the book the wants to read, and the one he wanted to write. Over at Slate, Laura Miller states that O’Connor has to “settle for using his outdoorsy getaways as a tax write-off – the Arkansas chapter in particular being a flagrant example. O’Connor rents a kayak to paddle around the Bayou De View, not because Bigfoots have been sighted there, but because the officially extinct ivory-billed woodpecker allegedly has.” 

The Secret History of Bigfoot: Field Notes on an American Monster by John O’Connor is very literate and very thoughtful. It’s an intelligent contribution to the body of knowledge about the creature. But if the book’s contributions were lesser in number, they would be greater in impact. 

But when Amazon announced their own mini-series based on The Killing Floor, I was pretty wary. I had been duped before by the silly Tom Cruise movies that shrunk Reacher down to the size of berries and cream lad.

First, Alan Ritchson is nearly the perfect Reacher (he is a little too jolly, but I'll get to that). His size and big mug are just perfect. The rest of the cast - the smart guy, the love interest, the villain, the country boys hired by the villain - are also perfectly cast and it's important to note that I don't know their names or even the actors who played them. In Reacher-world, Reacher is the main focus and everyone else just stumbles around and says that they know how to shoot a gun, forcing Reacher to show them that the safety is on with a smirk.

Further, the multi-part series did the book justice, including Lee Child's tendency to send Reacher on field trips during his capers. The studio paid for enough settings to make the whole thing interesting, including the flashback moments in Japan and France. The whole thing followed perfectly, an important consideration when bringing something like this to the screen.

Then there's the important thing: the developer, Nick Santora, knew that this whole thing was a farce. Reacher coming into town and solving a big mystery was firmly in Columbo/Murder She Wrote territory and not an adventure. Reacher gets away with loads of stuff and you love him for it. He smirks his way through the show like the Cheshire Cat, aware of the silliness of the plot but never willing to derail it with melodrama.

In other words, the show is just like Lee Childs' books: cotton candy for the brain. Child is a genius at plotting and setting and this show does him justice. I only hope more writers get the same evenhanded and understanding treatment as more and more books are turned into series.

Our writing styles change as we age.

Two very ridiculously obvious statements that are hardly groundbreaking. But I kept thinking about those concepts as I read Chuck Klosterman's The Nineties: A Book. One or two of those simple statements were clearly at work, because yeah, I read it. But I can hardly recall anything from it.

As a white male writer, obsessed with eighties hair metal and sports, Klosterman was a sort of a role model when I began my career. Here's another absurdly obvious statement: His work influenced my own book Power Chord: One Man's Ear Splitting Quest to Find His Guitar Heroes. That's as obvious as saying that Kingdom Come was influenced by Led Zeppelin. (Eighties metal inside joke there.)

I had not read some of Klosterman's more recent books so I was excited to return to his work with The Nineties. When I finished the book, I noticed something. No sticky notes.

I like to use those small, narrow sticky notes to mark favorite phrases or arguments in books. Klosterman's earlier books on my shelf are full of them. And I can remember some of the best points. I still use his line about Van Halen's use of keyboards as the "Roe versus Wade of heavy metal." I told someone the other day about Klosterman's argument that Billy Joel was one of the most popular musicians on the planet, married to the most gorgeous woman on the planet, and yet you still never pretended to be him.

But there isn't a single sticky note in my copy of The Nineties. Not a single instance where I thought, "I have to tell this to my buddy." The one component that generated the most passion for me is the cover. I just can't get over my own recollection (quite possibly flawed) that a colorful, see-through phone was an artifact of the eighties. Granted, Klosterman's central thesis is that our collective memories of a given decade are not bookended by the literal dates on a calendar. So perhaps that phone is meant to show the carry over.

But in regards to the text itself? I mainly remember an extended look at polling data related to Ross Perot's 1992 presidential campaign. An examination that could have just as easily been published by a source like Politico because it contained none of the Klosterman memory rabbit holes, filled with embarrassments we can all relate to.

It seems as though I'm not the only one nonplussed by The Nineties. The New York Times review ended with the conclusion that "Klosterman cunningly sets a low bar for this project. Does it clear it? Well, yes. No. Sometimes." Megan Volpert at PopMatters points out that "The Nineties contains very few statements in first-person and no stories about the author’s life, even though this more hybrid and intimate approach to non-fiction is what sealed the deal with his early fan base."

Maybe I've just gotten old and curmudgeonly.

Maybe he's gotten old and wants to be taken seriously.

Or both.

But that clean stack of pages in The Nineties, compared to the sticky note blizzard on Chuck Klosterman's earlier books, indicates a lack of impact that is too clearly obvious.

The New York Times reports that science fiction and fantasy author Brandon Sanderson raised $15.4 million in 24 hours on Kickstarter. And the donations kept coming in.

Fuck me, I don't even know how to comment on this. Just read the article.