Not my words, those came from the brilliant Peter Watts.
I woke up early on Saturday morning feeling absolutely fantastic. The birds were singing. The sky was blue. People waved hello as I crossed the busy streets of Montreal on what could most certainly have been a perfect day.
Fuck that. Who needs flawless and harmonious peace and love when you can have Peter Watts, John Scalzi and Jon Courtenay Grimwood? Mind raping, raucous, existential fun that reading was, oh yes. Deadly whips and chains and insolent Gods. Beheaded introspection (is that possible?) never sounded so, dark and scintillating.
So long perfect day. Now where did I put those razor blades? 😉