The novel “Wild Animus” is about a man who turns himself into a goat.* And then gets killed by a pack of wolves.
The novel has 500 ratings on Goodreads. The average rating is 1.91 (but, some of the ratings are sarcastic 5 star reviews so the actual rating is well below that even). Many of the reviewers claim it’s the worst book they’ve ever read. The worst book ever. The Amazon.com reviews are much the same (a total of 151 reviews coming in at a 2 star clip).
And, of course, I want to say here at the get-go that this book is definitely worth reading. A must-read, really. And any bonafide, dyed-in-the-wool reading enthusiast will certainly agree with me after they chew and browse away at the screencaps below (Ha Ha ha). Also, scroll to the bottom of this post for a sample of racy and sublime excerpts from the book itself. In fact I’m trying to decide whether the Queen and I should endorse this book even more highly than our gold standard.
Okay-enough foreplay!-what follows now is a bunch of Goodreads and Amazon review screencaps followed in turn by a short and helpful list of what these reviews tell us about people in general. Queen Mob’s is, after all, a website founded not only on the principle of pleasure! (indeed this blue orgy of ideas and shapes is also a wisdom site–yes, we’re an oasis of tea, scones and measured insights into the nature of the human soul and heart, even if that soul and heart are garbed in goatskin and mauled by Alaskan, volcano, LSD wolves).
Wow, I wish people had so much to say about my books. (sighhhhhhhhhhhh)
But, yeah, (personal envies and resentments aside) what do these reviews tell us about people ???
1) People like to throw good money after bad. Yeah, people will NOT walk out of movies.
2) People are bullshitters. After a hundred 1- star reviews saying over and over how much the book sucks do you think you really need to add your voice to the crowd to “save other people” from it???? #NeedlessToSay
3) People can be really clever when they’re passionate about something. #Mean #ReallyMean**
4) People like it simple. Please don’t go CRAZY on us. #OverTheEdge #CraZZZZyyyyy
5) People are prudes. #DrugsBad #DrugsVeryBad #CraZZZZyyyyy
6) People like to pile on. #PeopleWhoLikeWolves #CraZZZZyyyyy
7) People are nice. #Empathy #CraZZZZyyyyy
8) People are bad. People are corny. Pathetic. #NeedlessToSay #CraZZZZyyyyy
9) People are sheep. #Disciples #Pastures #Pastor #CraZZZZyyyyy
10) Women are “obnoxious,” as in “that woman” #SmokedFish #CraZZZyyyyyyyyy
11) People are wolves. #SallyWolf #LoveTheWolf #KillWolves #Howling
12) People are resourceful and beautiful. And I pray for all of you. Ha. Ha. Ha. #Howling
and, most importantly
13) People simply do not appreciate good Sex Writing !!! #CraZZZZZYYYYY #Howling
**– what should we do about all this “meanness???” Well, this is a good site, filled with good people, and we believe in productive and sympathetic solutions. So, yes, anyone with some real “meanness” (and “funny” would be good, too) should immediately email their submissions to Rion at underground(at)queenmobs.com. (Rion is our #1 healer).
okay, so here now are the racy excerpts that I promised.
note: there is a Peter Coyote audio version of Wild Animus! I’m too lazy to link to it. But, imagine, now, Peter Coyote’s husky voice reading the following passages to you:
(note 2: * I was wrong, I think, about the “goat” at the beginning. But I’m too tired to change that)
actually here is Peter Coyote reading from Wild Animus
and, for more options of what voice you want, here is Rich Shapero, author of Wild Animus, venture capitalist, and pedophile(?), reading from another of his books
Sam stared. Breasts drew the senses, even unpleasing ones, but for him Lindy’s were the breasts of fantasy. She drew her skirt down, and the sight of her nudity turned his emotions inside out. In an instant, the drug wiped his memory clean. There was nothing but her flesh glowing in the yellow lamplight. It appeared like a halcyon landscape, all ocher and peach-promised, through some mistake, to him also.
Sam unbuckled his belt with trembling hands and stepped out of his pants, conscious of his nakedness in a way that she was not. He faced her, his body narrow and sinewy, muscles barely contouring his thin limbs, as if planed by a stern carpenter.
Her heart roared at him like fire from an opened furnace, and the world around him dissolved. All he could feel was the welling in his chest, a bulb of heat mounting, chugging his pulse and stopping his breath. His center seemed to burst and he was giving himself over, his pain, his loneliness, everything. The miracle was that she was there to receive him. Her innocence welcomed him, her wisdom understood him, and her longing engulfed him. Their hearts, so hot and so close, melted and flowed together, surging with an impossible power.
The bliss Sam felt was suddenly familiar. He was a little boy spinning in circles with his arms raised to the trees. Memories of childhood joy blossomed inside him, as if they had been waiting for the moment. He sensed a similar remembrance in Lindy. This is what she had dreamed of and prayed for when she was running and flying and never coming back: love rising like a fountain inside her, vanquishing the doom. She would risk anything for that, Sam knew. It was all that mattered. In this clarity, they hovered for what seemed a long time.
Lindy appeared to sense his alarm but instead of calming, she grew bolder. This body isn’t my real one, she seemed to say. Watch me shred this soft skin and pull my sweet face off. The hidden Lindy filled Sam with fear, revealing a hunger, and a willingness to do violence to herself, beyond anything he’d imagined. And she seemed bent on working a similar change in him, as if, inside his human wrapper, a wilder self was lurking. He felt a terrible danger in her desire. She was breaching something that should remain inviolable.
“Like they do,” he said. Without a word, she rose onto her hands and knees. Trembling all over, he mounted her, her warmth like a current flowing to meet him. His loins fired, and he was suddenly the creature he’d dreamed of, head high, hunched and thrusting between earth and sky.
Ransom raised himself, heart racing. The ram could smell their lust, and Ransom thought he saw an indulgence in his eyes. Lindy was on her feet now, arms around her middle, looking bewildered and vulnerable, wondering what Ransom was going to do.
Naked and trembling, Ransom stepped forward. The patriarch lowered his head and lifted his fore, doing the same. Ransom stopped. The ram did the same. Again Ransom came forward, heels lifted half-consciously, walking on the balls of his feet. The patriarch descended to meet him, hooves crunching the amber gravel, staring straight at him.”