Eleven Twenty-Three: Contains gore. Lots and lots of wonderful gore.

This book is unlikely to become a best-seller but was a decent/fun read. Lots of questions, lots of trash plot line, some amazing prose, a fair amount of nearly putting it down and moving on.

Eleven Twenty-Three (Jason Hornsby)
318 pages
Permuted Press
ISBN-10: 1934861340
ISBN-13: 978-1934861349

Central story

Layne and Tara come home from teaching English as a Second Language (ESL) in China for a year, to attend the funeral of Layne's estranged father. Overnight, the sleepy hometown becomes a bloodbath. Beginning at 11:23 am and repeating at each consecutive 11:23, mass portions of the population go apeshit and start mass killing. The government has quarantined them. The outside world believes that smallpox is rampant.

Layne and Tara work to escape the town and ensure their survival as well as the global knowledge of what their town went through.

Zombies? No.. Insanity? Maybe.. Alternate dimensions? Mind control? Ghosts? Petrochemical allergies? God? Cost of tea in china? Who the heck knows what this is about.

It is reasonably priced ($6) but I picked it up in free preview and have seen $1 sales as well. It is a good spend for a couple hours of quickly paced fiction, but don't get it with the expectation of a story that has real staying power. Pick it up for some seriously brilliant passages intermixed with confusing blah blah. Pick it up for some pulp fiction dawn of the dead cross-genre joy, try to ignore the Seinfeld episodes that break up the scenes. There is some serious gore in a few scenes. Serious. Not for the squeamish.

Need more of a review? Yeah, I don't really know what to tell you. It was wordy. There was a vast section of vivid and amazing prose. There was also a lot of confusion and lofty 'coffee shop' drivel. Red herrings and dead-ends in the plotline also work well/pissed me off for seeming to waste time. I would probably read this again, and definitely suggest it but sometimes I just wanted to yell "shut up".
Sourced: This book was found in the barren wilderness of Amazon. It was nestled beneath a warm blanket of trash and was feasting on the corpses of poorly written nonsense. I picked it up and petted it, dislodged the angry ratty teeth from my finger, then wondered how it managed to follow me home on my Kindle.


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