wrong colors, evocations of death
582044
This thing is ugly as sin, and I'm really sad I wasted my money. For one thing, the ink is brown instead of shades of grey, and for another, a few of the trees have lesions on the bark that point to imminent demise, so instead of sitting on the toilet peacefully admiring my new shower curtain, I'm staring at a dying tree, frozen in time by an ignorant photographer (and an ignorant culture, evidently), and rendered in a color that gently clashes with the rest of the dcor. Plus it makes the whole room seem much smaller.

I can't speak to its actual effectiveness. What is a shower curtain supposed to do, other than to provide opacity?

I wish I hadn't opened the package, but it had to be hung before I was hit by the full effect. Sigh. Buyer beware.
4271239
This assemblage of six line stanzas, in precarious sonnet form, that is, Henry's de facto form, finds the text crammed and twisted, the poetic content bewilderingly mashed into many of these lines of text. What starkly emerges is the power of an intense amount of self-generated pain.

The despair and self-loathing contrasts sharply with the wicked wit and occasional flash of meanness; the confessionally inclined Henry emerges as a not-too-honest, lustful and quite sad storyteller. The DREAM SONGS are anything but flawless; and yet, the flaws are so unique that they augment the collage of experience that Berryman at times compellingly depicts. Some of the SONGS are flat out brilliant, while others are just oozing with sticky pathos and self-indulgent whining. These are the loosely linked themes that bear the load of Henry's loves, losses, work-in-progress, current events, and even some domestic details.

Berryman's denial notwithstanding, his Henry and Bones personas, standing unsteadily through the too-many alcoholic dawns ... well, he somehow manages to pull himself together enough to shakily get to class and lecture in order to earn some more whiskey money. And to his credit, his erudition lurks on through these self-styled sonnet songs - experimental collages, maudlin at times, fueled by the hard liquored nights.

Jung would say Berryman is "too high up in his mind", a personality riddled with self-importance. Under the currents of self-loathing and pity lurks an obvious hankering for fame - and the DREAM SONGS provide the catharsis and exit for his regrets, which seem many.

No, Henry is not one prone to humility - and his creator can be a real horse's ass, with many racist undercurrents weaving through the sniveling and morbid death obsessions. Yet, throughout all the textual dross, lies the glint of poetic nuggets waiting to be claimed by the metaphorically intrepid.
69388
This is a great album but it must be admitted that, as the songwriter grows older, he becomes increasingly morbid. After the raunchy, upbeat opening song, the album settles into a reflection on ghosts, doom, decay and darkness.
"Four Mirrors" is a reflection on how one is haunted by one's parents, long after they're gone, by the similarities they leave behind in us.  The poppy "Mr. Ambivalence" about going nowhere. "OGM" about denying the obvious when a relationship has ended. "Our Own War" (not "Our Own Way" as shown in the track listing) compares the battles of a love affair to war, and points out that when the bloodshed is over, so is the relationship. "So Damn Happy" about the relief one feels when ending a relationship. You get the idea.
Yet, the hardest thing about the album is that the author's usually crystal clear analysis of the situation seems a little murky.
In particular, "OGM", the a capella "Underwear" and "Little Ship" are reflections on a relationship that's, essentially, over. In "OGM" the songwriter is flat-out denying it. Worse, though, "Underwear" and "Little Ship" are about the bumps in a relationship, and how the relationship is stronger after surviving them. The melancholy overtones and subtexts suggest, however, that the subject is whistling past the graveyard. The relationship is long gone, and he's trying to pretend otherwise. Not the sort of "wishful thinking" we expect from Loudon.
These are not bad songs, mind you. "OGM" in particular, is one of his best, "Little Ship" is sweet and "Underwear" typically humorous. But the overall effect of the album can be depressing because it's not tempered with LW3's usual clarity. It's not surprising, then, that some of the album's highlights are on more extroverted songs, like "Primrose Hill" and relentlessly cheerful banjo tune "The World Is A Terrible Place".
LW3 followed this album with the all-socially-relevant "Social Studies", which is probably as far from this as he could get.
1099676
Type O Negative's latest effort does justice to their previous ones. Everytime this band puts out an album, it sounds radically different than  their previous efforts, which had progressed from a heavy sound in  "Slow Deep and Hard" to an almost symphonic quality in  "October Rust." WCD seems to fall in between these efforts, but  stands out on it's own. For starters, only a couple of the tracks are laden  with the sexual overtones that we have come to expect from TON's lyrics.  This album is much darker. Steele writes a great deal about death,  exemplifying a great deal about DABDA, which is the psychological  abreviation for the five stages of coping with death. My favorite Tracks  are "Who Will Save the Sane" and "Creepy Green Light."  The whole album is aesthetically pleasing, but if new to the band, one  might be overwhelmed by the interludes of sound effects in between tracks;  "October Rust" or the "Bloody Kisses: Digipack" might  be a bit more suitable. But if one is looking for a well rounded album,  don't pass this one up!
3459030
Life is in Technicolor - not black and white, or sepia-tone - and thats what electrifies Meg Tuites BOUND BY BLUE. She focuses her palette on dark deeds and yet, with adroit poetic prose - vivid, strong and bold, she engenders solicitude for the sufferer. Tuite is not afraid to showcase lifes gritty, abusive scenarios. Deceit. Suspense. Regrettable choices. They grab your attention, often to the point of gasping. Her metaphors are so unique that you would deprive yourself of one of lifes greatest pleasures by not reading this visceral collection of short stories.
1584956
title says amazing photos... they should be in color at least! All black and white. Not written well either.
1533605
Navigating By Colour is Rapoon's most unique release.  It has ambient recordings that are musical, dark, ethereal, long, short, beautiful & noisy.  This is the recording that contains "IMAGINE", his best piece & one of the best ambient pieces ever!  Try to find the original release with some of Robin Storey's artwork cards.
1292271
This is a beautiful book, physically and emotionally.  The technical quality of the book itself is unusually nice with the doubled pages.  The photography was technically beautiful and emotionally stunning ... literally stunning.  We are endlessly offended and surprised by loss and death -- the Hesse poem and the transition of the tulips reminds us that we are trying to hide from the truth that birth is the start of death -- this book is a reminder that we are all dying at every moment, that it is natural and to be expected -- and when we really understand that reality in ourselves and in the people around us, we can only become more compassionate and more mindful of how we spend our time.  Our time is our life.
141329
I ordered these expecting mixed browns, blues, and greys.  Unfortunately I received mixed colors of fluorescent pinks, greens, yellows, and reds.
Not exactly the fashion statement that I wished to make.
3199002
Amazingly well-constructed and well-performed album, albeit admittedly an album that's in places deep on the nihilistic side.  Slow and beautiful heavy metal music incorporating instruments like flute and cello not just as flourishes but as an integral part of the musical structure.  This wasn't as common an occurence in metal in 1996 as it would become over the next few years, and Decoryah was among the originators.  Unfortunately, the dismal and hopeless lyrics on tracks like "Envisioned (- Waters?)" and "Wintry Fluids (Portal)", while very well-sung, detract, for me anyway, from the awe and grandeur of the music.  It may well be the point to be this abysmally dark (a darkness born not out of malice but despair, I should point out), as alot of people look for this brand of darkness in music, perhaps as a kind of catharsis, but, though I may be in the minority on this, I've never found the actual music of bands like Decoryah and Morgion and the oddly named My Dying Bride to be depressing, I find it to be grand and powerful.  I do enjoy dark music, even sad and tragic and times, but not ultra-depressing or nihilistic, and thus some of the lyrics are a hindrance to the "Fall-Dark Waters" album as a whole.  Still, the impeccable musicianship and vocals (male and some beautiful supporting female vocals) cannot be denied, nor the establishment of a phenomenal atmosphere throughout.  Tracks like the title piece, "Endless Is The Stream" and "some Drops Beyond The Essence" are magic and the lyrics on the Fall-Dark Waters" song itself are actually bright.  Great production and mesmerising music, but perhaps the band's next album would be better served by just a smidgen less mega-gloom?
3406189
What is The New Black? Its not only the name of the book, but also a genre in itself. New Black, or neo-noir, is ostensibly what noir literature has evolved into over many years and many stories. I say ostensibly because after Laird Barrons foreword and Richard Thomas introduction, the definition, if there can be one, remains nebulous. As Barron points out, neo-noir simply means dark fiction, and even within that niche, theres a hell of a lot of territory to cover. Youll find horror between these pages, but youll also find elements of many other genres, some of which may come as a surprise. Classification issues aside, The New Black is simply an extraordinary collection of fiction.

An aging boxer strives to assuage one type of pain with another in Craig Davidsons Rust and Bone, a hard-hitting story of crippling guilt and atonement in the ring.

Micaela Morissettes The Familiars straddles the line between magical realism and supernatural horror. An imaginary friend comes of age along with its companion, bringing to light the darkness lurking on the edges of childhood fancy.

Roy Keseys absurd yet emotive Instituto asks what perfection is, explores the possibility of attaining it at a price, and explores the relation between physical scars and the memories attached to them.

The unreliable narrator of Benjamin Percys Dial Tone struggles to make sense of his seemingly dull life, in a sort of reverse murder mystery that delves into the aimlessness and alienation of the digital age. An unorthodox haunting overshadows the proceedings.

With Its Against the Law to Feed the Ducks, Paul Tremblay brings an understated take on post-apocalyptic literature. This story, viewed through the eyes of a child, is all the more emotionally potent for the illusion of normalcy the family strives to maintain.

These are by no means highlights. Richard Thomas has drawn together an astonishing array of talent, and this is the rare collection in which every story is a highlight in its own way. Its stories adeptly bridge the divide between genre and literary, becoming a hybrid that any reader of fiction will appreciate. This is a book for fans of writers as diverse as Stephen King, Jos Saramago, Alice Munro, Gary Braunbeck, and Flannery OConnor. In many of the stories, characters internal lives are comprehensively revealed within the framework of heavily plot-driven narratives. Dark shadows loom and the occasional viscera glistens, while between the lines a far different tale unfolds.

Kafka said that A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. If thats the case, this book is more like a bonfire that begins with a spark and ends up burning its way into all corners of our minds. Wherever your taste in fiction lies, The New Black is a stunning and essential collection.
3218959
The imagery in this book is great, but there are sections filled in with dark blue that don't make any sense to be colored in, like the teeth of a tiger, the head of a heraldic lion, or a chunk in the middle of a Celtic knot.  I can still color in it, but some of these are rendered unusable because of that choice.
4069689
<div id="video-block-R28V2GZDW19CWA" class="a-section a-spacing-small a-spacing-top-mini video-block"></div><input type="hidden" name="" value="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/C1nyI43AzlS.mp4" class="video-url"><input type="hidden" name="" value="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/8117fNp1XUS.png" class="video-slate-img-url">Here is a slender but important collection of Alfred Kubin's art. It is one of the few English volumes available and contains Kubin's finest late pen-and-ink drawings. Kubin assimilated the troubled worlds of Edgar Allan Poe, Max Klinger, Odilon Redon, Franz Kafka, Gustav Meyrink, and Schopenhauer. The resulting art therefore straddles both a symbolist and expressionist aesthetic. His visions are decidedly decadent, macabre, weird, sardonic, often pessimistic, while the expressionist edge of his work is shown in his crude lines, blots and scratches of ink, and the grimy world he evokes.

Most of the drawings in this book are not published elsewhere. They are taken from very early editions of Kubin's work: Dance of Death (1918) and Fifty Drawings (1923); several from the Serge Sabarsky Exhibition are also included. These morbid pictures celebrate the triumph of death in everyday life. In each drawing, all manner of people are assailed by the figure of death: peasants, artists, pilgrims, sailors, children, and beautiful women. There are some remarkably chilling works here: "The Child" shows a skeleton in grandmother's clothing leading a child into a dark closet; in "The Draftsman" a skeletal figure is seen maliciously subduing the artist; "In the Basement" depicts a rotting corpse clinging lustfully to a dead woman; and "The Painter" is both light-hearted and grim, as a skeleton puts on the garb of an artist, who lies dead at a canvas, and finishes the painting.

Gregor Sebba's introduction is excellent and a pleasure to read. He provides insight into Kubin's artistic development, his drawing technique, and even his novel "The Other Side". Sebba also traces Kubin's style over his lifetime, citing and analyzing many of the plates in the book to support the discussion.

Bottom line: This is a satisfying catalogue of Kubin's late drawings, reproduced in sufficient size and quality. For those new to Kubin, I suggest first reading this coffee-table book with Kubin's early work:&nbsp;<a data-hook="product-link-linked" class="a-link-normal" href="/Alfred-Kubin-Drawings-1897-1909/dp/3791340948/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_rvw_txt?ie=UTF8">Alfred Kubin: Drawings, 1897-1909</a>. At any rate, the present edition of drawings, namely the "Dance of Death" sequence, which are rarely printed elsewhere, is necessary to anyone interested in Kubin's art. Also recommended for the Kubin collector is the Serge Sabarsky Exhibition Catalogue:&nbsp;<a data-hook="product-link-linked" class="a-link-normal" href="/Alfred-Kubin-1877-1959-An-exhibition-of-drawings-and-watercolors-December-1970-through-January-1971/dp/B0006CFE3K/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_rvw_txt?ie=UTF8">Alfred Kubin, 1877-1959: An exhibition of drawings and watercolors, December 1970 through January 1971</a>.
1747127
I must admit I'm a massive fan of the band Staind.  Right from 1996's Tormented up to this 14 Shades of Grey, I've really enjoyed what Staind has to offer: honest alt-metal music with some depth behind it.  However, this album is not their best.

First, the meaning behind the title.  14 Shades of Grey might sound rather grim to a newcomer to the band, but it's actually their most hopeful album yet.  What the title means is that the singer has reached a stage of uncertainty.  The title means that Aaron Lewis has realized that not everything in life is black or white, most of it is grey.  So, 14 Shades of Grey is an album about an unclear future.

There are way too many people bitching today because they think that music like this is 'too whiny' or 'too depressing.'  What they don't seem to get is that everyone who's ever felt like the lead singer Aaron Lewis or anyone who's ever felt a little sad by the hard times they're going through.  You need to understand that to enjoy anything by Staind really.

Now onto the reviewing:

14 Shades of Grey has been toned down a lot from Dysfunction and even Break the Cycle.  Most of the songs here vaguely resemble 'It's Been Awhile' and there's not one single song where Aaron screams.  Nope, it's singing, singing
1953070
Fans of Color Morale should defiantly give the band Voices a listen

http://www.amazon.com/The-Device-Fallout-Explicit/dp/B00NV7AOHS
4629626
Haeckel's paintings are exceptional, but the colors in this collection are a little flat. They skimp on color and don't do full justice to the vibrant, vivid colors of Haeckel's organisms. Compared to other prints, this is rather disappointing, but still a decent collection of his best work at a reasonable price.
3896689
Hubert Selby's first book, "Last Exit to Brooklyn" was published in the 1964. It was subject to an obscenity trial in England although it escaped U.S. censors unscathed. The book was reissued in 1988, coinciding with the release of a movie loosely based upon it. The book's dark vision remains with the passage of time. It is not a book for the squeamish, faint-hearted, or for the conventional.

The book consists of a series of loosely related stories of varying length taking place in the tenements of Brooklyn. Many of the incidents center around an odious local bar known as "the Greeks" and its patrons. The longest story, "Strike" is about a long and ugly labor dispute and its effect on Harry, a worker and the strike organizer, on his marriage and on his sense of sexual identity. The story is detailed, sordid, violent, and fascinating. Other stories explore the world of cheap hookers, transvestites, drug users, petty crooks and drunks. The stories are raw told in a crude language of the streets appropriate to their subject matter.

The book reminded me of the early work of probably my favorite novelist, the Victorian writer George Gissing, in its concentration of the underlife in our cities. There is little of the express vulgarity and sexual crudity in the Victorian writer, but I think Gissing and Selby would have understood each other nonetheless.

This book is a disturbing picture of low life, partly written in the language and mores of its times but transcending that. There is little in the way of hope or love in the book and I think that the author wants to show us the consequences of a lack or hope and love. It is a book that in a materialist age can teach compassion in a language and style that pulls for attention. It is very sad, but the book invites and demands reflection. It shows us what is missing. This is probably a book that will be remembered in the literary history of America.

Robin Friedman