Scan barcode
stephbookshine's review against another edition
4.0
*I received a free copy of this book, with thanks to the author. The decision to review and my opinions are my own.*
Wrapped Up In Nothing is dark and gory, yet strangely upbeat with it.
Our protagonist wakes up in the desert horribly mutilated with no idea of who or where he is, but takes the whole thing rather well and ambles off nonchalantly in search of answers. Well…more shambles than ambles; whoever worked him over really has done a number on him and he appears to pretty much be held together by bandages and cigarette smoke as the story progresses.
Even more surprising than his reasonable equanimity about his horrific injuries are the reactions of others to him. After an initial mild surprise and a bit of impolite goggling most of the citizens he encounters seem to accept his condition with as little shock and horror as he does (maybe his relaxed attitude is contagious, but more likely they know more than he, or we, do!).
Do not expect all the answers from this story, as it is the shock-opener for what is obviously a ‘Mr Blank’ series, in which his background and identity will be explored in more detail. In this first installment, answers are vague and shady, but I can tell you that Mr Blank begins to get miffed. And he is most definitely not repressed when it comes to expressing his more violent emotions: expect blood, bones and tongue nubs, dicks, sex and swearing.
I have read a few different Oli Jacobs’ books now and whilst they are all very different, the unifying theme is a love of genre-bending and blending, and a dark, sardonic humour that pokes fun at the horrors and strangeness of life. If you’re looking for something a bit different, and like gangster-noir, then this will be up your deserted desert highway.
Kneeling there, on the ground, suddenly the whole picture came to light and exposed itself to me.
Trust me, it weren’t no Rembrandt.
My hands were taped, covered in dirty bandages. But that weren’t the queer thing. That, was the fact that those bandages suggested that my fingertips were missing, save for the thumb on my right hand. Gotta give a guy something, I guess. Bandages didn’t stop there either. they stretched all the way up the black suit I was wearing, up my arm and around my chest and up my throat.
Then all wrapped nicely round my face. Top to bottom. All that was left were two peeky holes for my eyes and my tongueless mouth.
A mouth that was also missing a few select teeth as well, for good measure.
It was then that I started to get the feeling, that today was my lucky day.
– Oli Jacobs, Wrapped Up In Nothing
Review by Steph Warren of Bookshine and Readbows blog
https://bookshineandreadbows.wordpress.com/2018/07/31/wrapped-up-in-nothing-oli-jacobs/
Wrapped Up In Nothing is dark and gory, yet strangely upbeat with it.
Our protagonist wakes up in the desert horribly mutilated with no idea of who or where he is, but takes the whole thing rather well and ambles off nonchalantly in search of answers. Well…more shambles than ambles; whoever worked him over really has done a number on him and he appears to pretty much be held together by bandages and cigarette smoke as the story progresses.
Even more surprising than his reasonable equanimity about his horrific injuries are the reactions of others to him. After an initial mild surprise and a bit of impolite goggling most of the citizens he encounters seem to accept his condition with as little shock and horror as he does (maybe his relaxed attitude is contagious, but more likely they know more than he, or we, do!).
Do not expect all the answers from this story, as it is the shock-opener for what is obviously a ‘Mr Blank’ series, in which his background and identity will be explored in more detail. In this first installment, answers are vague and shady, but I can tell you that Mr Blank begins to get miffed. And he is most definitely not repressed when it comes to expressing his more violent emotions: expect blood, bones and tongue nubs, dicks, sex and swearing.
I have read a few different Oli Jacobs’ books now and whilst they are all very different, the unifying theme is a love of genre-bending and blending, and a dark, sardonic humour that pokes fun at the horrors and strangeness of life. If you’re looking for something a bit different, and like gangster-noir, then this will be up your deserted desert highway.
Kneeling there, on the ground, suddenly the whole picture came to light and exposed itself to me.
Trust me, it weren’t no Rembrandt.
My hands were taped, covered in dirty bandages. But that weren’t the queer thing. That, was the fact that those bandages suggested that my fingertips were missing, save for the thumb on my right hand. Gotta give a guy something, I guess. Bandages didn’t stop there either. they stretched all the way up the black suit I was wearing, up my arm and around my chest and up my throat.
Then all wrapped nicely round my face. Top to bottom. All that was left were two peeky holes for my eyes and my tongueless mouth.
A mouth that was also missing a few select teeth as well, for good measure.
It was then that I started to get the feeling, that today was my lucky day.
– Oli Jacobs, Wrapped Up In Nothing
Review by Steph Warren of Bookshine and Readbows blog
https://bookshineandreadbows.wordpress.com/2018/07/31/wrapped-up-in-nothing-oli-jacobs/
stephbookshine's review
4.0
*I received a free copy of this book, with thanks to the author. The decision to review and my opinions are my own.*
Wrapped Up In Nothing is dark and gory, yet strangely upbeat with it.
Our protagonist wakes up in the desert horribly mutilated with no idea of who or where he is, but takes the whole thing rather well and ambles off nonchalantly in search of answers. Well…more shambles than ambles; whoever worked him over really has done a number on him and he appears to pretty much be held together by bandages and cigarette smoke as the story progresses.
Even more surprising than his reasonable equanimity about his horrific injuries are the reactions of others to him. After an initial mild surprise and a bit of impolite goggling most of the citizens he encounters seem to accept his condition with as little shock and horror as he does (maybe his relaxed attitude is contagious, but more likely they know more than he, or we, do!).
Do not expect all the answers from this story, as it is the shock-opener for what is obviously a ‘Mr Blank’ series, in which his background and identity will be explored in more detail. In this first installment, answers are vague and shady, but I can tell you that Mr Blank begins to get miffed. And he is most definitely not repressed when it comes to expressing his more violent emotions: expect blood, bones and tongue nubs, dicks, sex and swearing.
I have read a few different Oli Jacobs’ books now and whilst they are all very different, the unifying theme is a love of genre-bending and blending, and a dark, sardonic humour that pokes fun at the horrors and strangeness of life. If you’re looking for something a bit different, and like gangster-noir, then this will be up your deserted desert highway.
Kneeling there, on the ground, suddenly the whole picture came to light and exposed itself to me.
Trust me, it weren’t no Rembrandt.
My hands were taped, covered in dirty bandages. But that weren’t the queer thing. That, was the fact that those bandages suggested that my fingertips were missing, save for the thumb on my right hand. Gotta give a guy something, I guess. Bandages didn’t stop there either. they stretched all the way up the black suit I was wearing, up my arm and around my chest and up my throat.
Then all wrapped nicely round my face. Top to bottom. All that was left were two peeky holes for my eyes and my tongueless mouth.
A mouth that was also missing a few select teeth as well, for good measure.
It was then that I started to get the feeling, that today was my lucky day.
– Oli Jacobs, Wrapped Up In Nothing
Review by Steph Warren of Bookshine and Readbows blog
https://bookshineandreadbows.wordpress.com/2018/07/31/wrapped-up-in-nothing-oli-jacobs/
Wrapped Up In Nothing is dark and gory, yet strangely upbeat with it.
Our protagonist wakes up in the desert horribly mutilated with no idea of who or where he is, but takes the whole thing rather well and ambles off nonchalantly in search of answers. Well…more shambles than ambles; whoever worked him over really has done a number on him and he appears to pretty much be held together by bandages and cigarette smoke as the story progresses.
Even more surprising than his reasonable equanimity about his horrific injuries are the reactions of others to him. After an initial mild surprise and a bit of impolite goggling most of the citizens he encounters seem to accept his condition with as little shock and horror as he does (maybe his relaxed attitude is contagious, but more likely they know more than he, or we, do!).
Do not expect all the answers from this story, as it is the shock-opener for what is obviously a ‘Mr Blank’ series, in which his background and identity will be explored in more detail. In this first installment, answers are vague and shady, but I can tell you that Mr Blank begins to get miffed. And he is most definitely not repressed when it comes to expressing his more violent emotions: expect blood, bones and tongue nubs, dicks, sex and swearing.
I have read a few different Oli Jacobs’ books now and whilst they are all very different, the unifying theme is a love of genre-bending and blending, and a dark, sardonic humour that pokes fun at the horrors and strangeness of life. If you’re looking for something a bit different, and like gangster-noir, then this will be up your deserted desert highway.
Kneeling there, on the ground, suddenly the whole picture came to light and exposed itself to me.
Trust me, it weren’t no Rembrandt.
My hands were taped, covered in dirty bandages. But that weren’t the queer thing. That, was the fact that those bandages suggested that my fingertips were missing, save for the thumb on my right hand. Gotta give a guy something, I guess. Bandages didn’t stop there either. they stretched all the way up the black suit I was wearing, up my arm and around my chest and up my throat.
Then all wrapped nicely round my face. Top to bottom. All that was left were two peeky holes for my eyes and my tongueless mouth.
A mouth that was also missing a few select teeth as well, for good measure.
It was then that I started to get the feeling, that today was my lucky day.
– Oli Jacobs, Wrapped Up In Nothing
Review by Steph Warren of Bookshine and Readbows blog
https://bookshineandreadbows.wordpress.com/2018/07/31/wrapped-up-in-nothing-oli-jacobs/
More...