Verbicide Magazine
“And then the girl from the Activities was standing before me. You remember her, the one from my recurring dream. The one I murdered, even if I don’t exactly remember the details. She stood before me, a hole the size of a football cut into her stomach, her hands cradling her innards.”
Those are the kind of stark descriptions of the grotesque and fantastic that litter Andrez Bergen’s debut novel. Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is a post-apocalyptic, sci-fi noir caper that comes on quick and relentless, and doesn’t quit until the last words.
The protagonist, Floyd Maquina, is a messed up guy. Living in Melbourne, Australia (which happens to be the last city on Earth) he hunts Deviant citizens with government sanctioned vigor and a wicked drug and alcohol dependency. There’s violence, humor, and some tugging of heartstrings, but all in all, Bergen manages to keep things light despite a setting of pure bleakness: constant rain, depression, drug addiction. Somehow, among all of the drabness and desolation, Bergen crafts a tale that is full of fun dialogue, quirky idiosyncrasies, imaginative, lively characters, and a relatable world to put it all inside of. The image of Floyd sitting on a cramped train with his head pressed against a rain washed window reflecting bright with neon advertisements still sticks with me.
At the heart of Bergen’s novel is the love affair our author has with popular culture. This book is bursting with nods and homage’s to everything from Humphrey Bogart to Mobile Suit Gundam. At times I thought that his continuous placement of sly cultural references would weigh the narrative down and Bergen’s original thoughts would get lost in the milieu. Not the case. His sensitive placement and explanations of these references binds them firmly to the story and are vital to the reader’s sense of place and feeling. The idea could have gone overboard, but the execution remains poignant. And just in case some things go over your head (example: a tosser cracking foxy with a twist) there is a glossary and an encyclopedia in the back.
Bergen’s style doesn’t coddle the reader. His sometimes informal voice and penchant for showing and not telling require a little extra participation on the reader’s part. The result, though, is a quick but memorable excursion to a unique place that rewards the reader with invigorating style and a very satisfying ending. Check this one out.
EVAN PEARSON, 29 August 2011
Those are the kind of stark descriptions of the grotesque and fantastic that litter Andrez Bergen’s debut novel. Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is a post-apocalyptic, sci-fi noir caper that comes on quick and relentless, and doesn’t quit until the last words.
The protagonist, Floyd Maquina, is a messed up guy. Living in Melbourne, Australia (which happens to be the last city on Earth) he hunts Deviant citizens with government sanctioned vigor and a wicked drug and alcohol dependency. There’s violence, humor, and some tugging of heartstrings, but all in all, Bergen manages to keep things light despite a setting of pure bleakness: constant rain, depression, drug addiction. Somehow, among all of the drabness and desolation, Bergen crafts a tale that is full of fun dialogue, quirky idiosyncrasies, imaginative, lively characters, and a relatable world to put it all inside of. The image of Floyd sitting on a cramped train with his head pressed against a rain washed window reflecting bright with neon advertisements still sticks with me.
At the heart of Bergen’s novel is the love affair our author has with popular culture. This book is bursting with nods and homage’s to everything from Humphrey Bogart to Mobile Suit Gundam. At times I thought that his continuous placement of sly cultural references would weigh the narrative down and Bergen’s original thoughts would get lost in the milieu. Not the case. His sensitive placement and explanations of these references binds them firmly to the story and are vital to the reader’s sense of place and feeling. The idea could have gone overboard, but the execution remains poignant. And just in case some things go over your head (example: a tosser cracking foxy with a twist) there is a glossary and an encyclopedia in the back.
Bergen’s style doesn’t coddle the reader. His sometimes informal voice and penchant for showing and not telling require a little extra participation on the reader’s part. The result, though, is a quick but memorable excursion to a unique place that rewards the reader with invigorating style and a very satisfying ending. Check this one out.
EVAN PEARSON, 29 August 2011
Book Reviews by Elizabeth A. White
_“Reality and perception are entirely different things, and let me tell you, Floyd, reality is the lesser of the two.” – Deaps
Andrez Bergen’s Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat (TSMG) is
set in a post-apocalyptic Melbourne, Australia at an unspecified point
in the future where the fortunate ones live an opulent life secure under
the high tech Dome which encases the city. The less fortunate live a
harsh existence in rundown areas on the outskirts of the Dome in a world
where the sun seldom shines and acid rain seems to fall endlessly.
Our narrator, Floyd Maquina, is a Seeker. Employed by the government to hunt down so-called Deviants for what is euphemistically called “hospitalization,” Floyd has the authority to terminate those who won’t come along peacefully. It’s something he’s only had to do once, but that encounter weighs heavily on his mind, driving him to seek comfort in drugs, alcohol, and classic Hollywood films.
Indeed, Floyd peppers his narrative with copious references to films like The Maltese Falcon, The Third Man, The Big Sleep, and Brazil amongst others, and throws enough hardboiled slang around that a Tobacco-Stained Glossary and Encyclopedia Tobacciana are included as appendices.
With one foot planted firmly in a futuristic world where Seekers routinely undergo Matrix-like virtual reality “tests” to ensure they are still in the fold and capable of carrying out company orders, TSMG manages to simultaneously have its other foot rooted in an authentic, throwback, hardboiled detective vibe. And it is in that fuzzy blending of post-apocalyptic and old-school noir that TSMG carves out what is one of the most wonderfully unique books I’ve had the pleasure to read.
Along the way author Andrez Bergen works in clever jabs and astute commentary on everything from reality shows (Floyd finds himself an unwitting TV star when thrust front and center in a Dog the Bounty Hunter type show) to media manipulation by corporations and the government (that “reality” show being a carefully scripted and edited attempt to control public opinion about Deviants) to our obsession with cosmetic perfection (people in TSMG routinely get surgical enhancement, including photosynthetic technology which allows them to swap out lip, eye, skin and hair color with thousands of available shades), while the conflict between the Deviants and the citizens inside the Dome serves as a rather timely exploration of the social upheaval that results when the economic gulf between classes becomes a seemingly unbridgeable chasm.
TSMG is not for everyone, there’s no way around that. Some will find the film references too frequent and, if you’re not familiar with the movies, potentially confusing. But if you’re willing to roll with them – or to put the handy Encyclopedia Tobacciana to good use – I think you’ll find they actually add a verisimilitude to Floyd’s character, going a long way toward explaining how he copes and makes his way through a world he often finds as foreign as the reader does.
In any event, I can say without qualification that not only is Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat one of my Top 5 reads of 2011, it is one of the most creative and engaging books I’ve ever read. Period.
ELIZABETH A. WHITE, 14 December 2011
Our narrator, Floyd Maquina, is a Seeker. Employed by the government to hunt down so-called Deviants for what is euphemistically called “hospitalization,” Floyd has the authority to terminate those who won’t come along peacefully. It’s something he’s only had to do once, but that encounter weighs heavily on his mind, driving him to seek comfort in drugs, alcohol, and classic Hollywood films.
Indeed, Floyd peppers his narrative with copious references to films like The Maltese Falcon, The Third Man, The Big Sleep, and Brazil amongst others, and throws enough hardboiled slang around that a Tobacco-Stained Glossary and Encyclopedia Tobacciana are included as appendices.
With one foot planted firmly in a futuristic world where Seekers routinely undergo Matrix-like virtual reality “tests” to ensure they are still in the fold and capable of carrying out company orders, TSMG manages to simultaneously have its other foot rooted in an authentic, throwback, hardboiled detective vibe. And it is in that fuzzy blending of post-apocalyptic and old-school noir that TSMG carves out what is one of the most wonderfully unique books I’ve had the pleasure to read.
Along the way author Andrez Bergen works in clever jabs and astute commentary on everything from reality shows (Floyd finds himself an unwitting TV star when thrust front and center in a Dog the Bounty Hunter type show) to media manipulation by corporations and the government (that “reality” show being a carefully scripted and edited attempt to control public opinion about Deviants) to our obsession with cosmetic perfection (people in TSMG routinely get surgical enhancement, including photosynthetic technology which allows them to swap out lip, eye, skin and hair color with thousands of available shades), while the conflict between the Deviants and the citizens inside the Dome serves as a rather timely exploration of the social upheaval that results when the economic gulf between classes becomes a seemingly unbridgeable chasm.
TSMG is not for everyone, there’s no way around that. Some will find the film references too frequent and, if you’re not familiar with the movies, potentially confusing. But if you’re willing to roll with them – or to put the handy Encyclopedia Tobacciana to good use – I think you’ll find they actually add a verisimilitude to Floyd’s character, going a long way toward explaining how he copes and makes his way through a world he often finds as foreign as the reader does.
In any event, I can say without qualification that not only is Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat one of my Top 5 reads of 2011, it is one of the most creative and engaging books I’ve ever read. Period.
ELIZABETH A. WHITE, 14 December 2011
The Flawed Mind
When we peer into the future of the cities we live in, the only one thing we can know for certain is that there will be change. Melbourne has changed markedly since I moved here in 1995, and the mind boggles to think of the transformations that longer time periods will unleash on the complexion of our fair city. In fifty years, who knows what Melbourne will be like?
One person who has allowed his mind to boggle in the aforementioned fashion is Andrez Bergen, ex resident of Melbourne, current resident of Tokyo, and author of the noir homage novel Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat. Andrez offers us one imagined future for Melbourne, and it has to be said that things don’t look so good. The dystopian Melbourne of TSMG, pitched at some distance into the future, has the unique distinction of being the only city left in the world. Unfortunately, things are not going terribly well in terms of civil liberties, the political climate or the environment. In fact, things are comprehensively fucked up on all fronts, and the portrait painted is of an overcrowded, polluted metropolis groaning under the control of a government vested in corporate interests and busy herding non-conformists and misfits into extramural death camps styled as ‘hospitals’.
Despite this undeniable grimness, the novel is also pretty amusing, and it mines the noir vein with gay abandon, to use an old-fashioned phrase. Andrez wears his pop-culture influences on his sleeve, and the result is a compote that mashes up a plethora of fictional frameworks into a believable, seamelss whole. Readers who know Melbourne will enjoy seeing the geography of the city rezoned and remapped, polarised by the presence of a dome over the CBD that shelters the wealthy elite. And god help you if you find yourself in Richmond, which Bergen transforms into a demilitarised wasteland; Abbotsford and other inner suburbs don’t fare much better.
I for one appreciate someone taking the time to imagine an Australia of the future, as it is a welcome change to the ubiquitous North American setting of much popular fiction, and science fiction. Nevertheless, that wouldn’t be enough to recommend it. Happily, TSMG is also a ripping yarn in the best dystopian, gumshoe tradition.
Oh, and on a final note, you will thoroughly enjoy the company of the protagonist, Floyd Maquina – he is ruggedly handsome and generally ruined; witty, self destructive and self-effacing with his air of gracious defeat. He has a weary charm that is impossible to resist. If only he were real…
MARCUS BAUMGART, October 19, 2011
One person who has allowed his mind to boggle in the aforementioned fashion is Andrez Bergen, ex resident of Melbourne, current resident of Tokyo, and author of the noir homage novel Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat. Andrez offers us one imagined future for Melbourne, and it has to be said that things don’t look so good. The dystopian Melbourne of TSMG, pitched at some distance into the future, has the unique distinction of being the only city left in the world. Unfortunately, things are not going terribly well in terms of civil liberties, the political climate or the environment. In fact, things are comprehensively fucked up on all fronts, and the portrait painted is of an overcrowded, polluted metropolis groaning under the control of a government vested in corporate interests and busy herding non-conformists and misfits into extramural death camps styled as ‘hospitals’.
Despite this undeniable grimness, the novel is also pretty amusing, and it mines the noir vein with gay abandon, to use an old-fashioned phrase. Andrez wears his pop-culture influences on his sleeve, and the result is a compote that mashes up a plethora of fictional frameworks into a believable, seamelss whole. Readers who know Melbourne will enjoy seeing the geography of the city rezoned and remapped, polarised by the presence of a dome over the CBD that shelters the wealthy elite. And god help you if you find yourself in Richmond, which Bergen transforms into a demilitarised wasteland; Abbotsford and other inner suburbs don’t fare much better.
I for one appreciate someone taking the time to imagine an Australia of the future, as it is a welcome change to the ubiquitous North American setting of much popular fiction, and science fiction. Nevertheless, that wouldn’t be enough to recommend it. Happily, TSMG is also a ripping yarn in the best dystopian, gumshoe tradition.
Oh, and on a final note, you will thoroughly enjoy the company of the protagonist, Floyd Maquina – he is ruggedly handsome and generally ruined; witty, self destructive and self-effacing with his air of gracious defeat. He has a weary charm that is impossible to resist. If only he were real…
MARCUS BAUMGART, October 19, 2011
Drying Ink
The last surviving city of Earth is... Melbourne.
This, at least, is the setting of Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat - a setting in which the Dome segregates rich and poor, and where the Bill of Deviations outlaws many as 'Deviants': to be hunted down by Seeker Branch. Floyd Maquina, our markedly unusual protagonist, is one such Seeker. He's also remarkably knowledgeable about film, and it shows: in the course of the novel, Floyd must reference at least a dozen noir films. And probably many, many more. The noir influence on the novel is similarly visible: though Floyd's hardly a detective, his narration takes a similar line to the 'hard bitten gumshoe'. And in an SF setting, that's pretty original - and correspondingly, pretty fun. A stubborn attitude (overly so!), witty dialogue, and some rather cutting insights combine to make Floyd the likeable protagonist that he is. Though occasionally it's overdone - Floyd is relentlessly stubborn, and frequently... Obstreperous. And occasionally you want to see some temptation. But minor qualm aside? He's good.
So when Floyd's life starts to change, we're watching eagerly: after he first chooses to 'terminate' rather than apprehend a Deviant, things start to go wrong. His incarcerated, ill wife dies. His new partner has trouble. And though this might seem a dystopian slice of life, it's far more: and seemingly disconnected events tie together in a fantastic ending. I had my doubts (who doesn't, with a debut? endings are hard), but Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat genuinely succeeds in both surprising and surpassing your expectations. And as a reviewer - we have secret plot-senses - that's rare.
So, what of setting? I'm not usually a fan of dystopias, or of the irrevocably down-and-out character. In this case, however, they work well - though Floyd does go to excess on occasion, playing the stereotype sometimes is just part of his genre awareness. Similarly, the government isn't relentlessly and unbelievably controlling. It's no 1984 - which I think is easily overdone. Instead, the Powers That Be are controlling, manipulative, and frequently appear corrupt. But they're not infallible - or overly fallible. We get a nice, cynic-bait compromise instead.
There is no central side character: Floyd becomes isolated, and the novel reflects this. Nevertheless, several strong secondary characters do appear: Laurel, Floyd's girlfriend, Dot, his sister, Hank - well, the list goes on. Their voices are distinct and memorable, which makes several losses or anticipated losses all the more tragic. Though don't worry, I won't tell you who.
All considered, Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat is a small press novel well worth your time - and not just for that cover. Referential, inspired, and occasionlly defying any expectation whatsoever, this is an odd read that you really should try, despite its slow start. But then, this is SFF: slow starts are par for the course!
JACOB @ DRYING INK, November 2, 2011
This, at least, is the setting of Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat - a setting in which the Dome segregates rich and poor, and where the Bill of Deviations outlaws many as 'Deviants': to be hunted down by Seeker Branch. Floyd Maquina, our markedly unusual protagonist, is one such Seeker. He's also remarkably knowledgeable about film, and it shows: in the course of the novel, Floyd must reference at least a dozen noir films. And probably many, many more. The noir influence on the novel is similarly visible: though Floyd's hardly a detective, his narration takes a similar line to the 'hard bitten gumshoe'. And in an SF setting, that's pretty original - and correspondingly, pretty fun. A stubborn attitude (overly so!), witty dialogue, and some rather cutting insights combine to make Floyd the likeable protagonist that he is. Though occasionally it's overdone - Floyd is relentlessly stubborn, and frequently... Obstreperous. And occasionally you want to see some temptation. But minor qualm aside? He's good.
So when Floyd's life starts to change, we're watching eagerly: after he first chooses to 'terminate' rather than apprehend a Deviant, things start to go wrong. His incarcerated, ill wife dies. His new partner has trouble. And though this might seem a dystopian slice of life, it's far more: and seemingly disconnected events tie together in a fantastic ending. I had my doubts (who doesn't, with a debut? endings are hard), but Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat genuinely succeeds in both surprising and surpassing your expectations. And as a reviewer - we have secret plot-senses - that's rare.
So, what of setting? I'm not usually a fan of dystopias, or of the irrevocably down-and-out character. In this case, however, they work well - though Floyd does go to excess on occasion, playing the stereotype sometimes is just part of his genre awareness. Similarly, the government isn't relentlessly and unbelievably controlling. It's no 1984 - which I think is easily overdone. Instead, the Powers That Be are controlling, manipulative, and frequently appear corrupt. But they're not infallible - or overly fallible. We get a nice, cynic-bait compromise instead.
There is no central side character: Floyd becomes isolated, and the novel reflects this. Nevertheless, several strong secondary characters do appear: Laurel, Floyd's girlfriend, Dot, his sister, Hank - well, the list goes on. Their voices are distinct and memorable, which makes several losses or anticipated losses all the more tragic. Though don't worry, I won't tell you who.
All considered, Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat is a small press novel well worth your time - and not just for that cover. Referential, inspired, and occasionlly defying any expectation whatsoever, this is an odd read that you really should try, despite its slow start. But then, this is SFF: slow starts are par for the course!
JACOB @ DRYING INK, November 2, 2011
Bare*Bones e-zine
_I never really knew the old Melbourne before the Wall, with its
sundry pub music, its boutique club glamour, and vaguely dissident art, a
not-so-contaminated Yarra River, all-night warehouse rave parties,
superlative eateries, and its easy multicultural charm—I was still only a
kid then.
This is the opening paragraph of Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, by Andrez Bergen, a novel that recently came over my virtual transom. I was intrigued by the brief write-ups I read online and downloaded the novel for free, as a pdf that I was able to read on my Kindle.
Bergen’s novel is a science fiction detective story set in a dystopian Melbourne, which is the repository of what’s left of humanity in the not so distant future. The narrator is named Floyd, and he is a Seeker, whose job is to track down and arrest Deviants. The twist is that, in this world where acid rain falls constantly and quickly destroys even a new fedora, anyone can be labeled a Deviant. Floyd has had to kill his target only once, and that is the one mission he cannot remember; this unrecalled mission provides the catalyst for a trip into his own heart of darkness.
The government and a powerful corporation work hand in hand in this world, using fear to control what’s left of the population. Floyd sees everything through a haze of references to film noir, hard-boiled detective novels, Japanese films, you name it—all the things that bare*bones readers love to read, watch and quote!
The prose is solidly tough-guy style, more noir than sci-fi, with technical terms kept to a minimum, yet the Blade Runner-like futuristic world of corruption is never too far away. This novel has enough twists and turns to keep a Raymond Chandler fan happy. There are echoes of Total Recall, and any novel where the main character goes in search of another character named Wilton Parmenter and instead finds one named Agarn is bound to entertain fans of 1960s TV.
The book is published by Another Sky Press, an alternative publisher out of Portland, Oregon. It can be downloaded for free online; contributions are requested but not required. For old-fashioned lovers of paper, a printed copy can also be ordered. The novel is followed by several handy appendices that include a guide to pop-culture references in the novel, a glossary, etc.
JACK SEABROOK, January 3rd, 2012
This is the opening paragraph of Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, by Andrez Bergen, a novel that recently came over my virtual transom. I was intrigued by the brief write-ups I read online and downloaded the novel for free, as a pdf that I was able to read on my Kindle.
Bergen’s novel is a science fiction detective story set in a dystopian Melbourne, which is the repository of what’s left of humanity in the not so distant future. The narrator is named Floyd, and he is a Seeker, whose job is to track down and arrest Deviants. The twist is that, in this world where acid rain falls constantly and quickly destroys even a new fedora, anyone can be labeled a Deviant. Floyd has had to kill his target only once, and that is the one mission he cannot remember; this unrecalled mission provides the catalyst for a trip into his own heart of darkness.
The government and a powerful corporation work hand in hand in this world, using fear to control what’s left of the population. Floyd sees everything through a haze of references to film noir, hard-boiled detective novels, Japanese films, you name it—all the things that bare*bones readers love to read, watch and quote!
The prose is solidly tough-guy style, more noir than sci-fi, with technical terms kept to a minimum, yet the Blade Runner-like futuristic world of corruption is never too far away. This novel has enough twists and turns to keep a Raymond Chandler fan happy. There are echoes of Total Recall, and any novel where the main character goes in search of another character named Wilton Parmenter and instead finds one named Agarn is bound to entertain fans of 1960s TV.
The book is published by Another Sky Press, an alternative publisher out of Portland, Oregon. It can be downloaded for free online; contributions are requested but not required. For old-fashioned lovers of paper, a printed copy can also be ordered. The novel is followed by several handy appendices that include a guide to pop-culture references in the novel, a glossary, etc.
JACK SEABROOK, January 3rd, 2012
Aust Crime Fiction
Something very strange happened to me recently. I loved a book, thoroughly enjoyed reading it, couldn't put it down at points, and still have absolutely no idea what the hell was going on. None whatsoever.
Post-apocalyptic Melbourne again. Not my favourite place at all, although in TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT we don't seem to be too far in the future, and we don't seem to be that far from current day Melbourne, particularly in the way the city is divided into the have's and the have nots. The division is by way of the Dome - uptown paradise where rampant consumerism and mindless bullshit rules (doesn't sound all that far-fetched does it...). Outside the Dome we're talking dangerous, run down, mean streets, bars, fast food, and nasty goings on (another tick in the not that difficult to believe column).
Populate the place with Deviants and Seekers who keep them in line, add a central hero that's a chain-smoking, loud mouthed smart arse with a drinking habit and a surprisingly touching reason for doing the job, and frankly, I was in lunacy heaven.
What really works in TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT is the characterisations, as well as some very funny and mad storytelling. I suspect you're going to get even more than I did from this book if you're in any way a follower of popular culture on TV and in films.
Ask me before reading this book and I'd have told you I'm really not into post-apocalyptic scenarios. I'm also not a follower of popular culture and certainly not science fiction, yet somehow even I managed to notice the Blade Runner references in this book...
But honestly, didn't care I had no idea what was going on. Didn't care it's not the sort of book I'd normally read. Don't even care that I'm not even sure if it was crime fiction. It's definitely a thriller, and it's somewhere in the science fiction realm... probably. I'd guess. Honestly - no idea. Did I mention I loved it, did I mention I've got no idea what the hell was going on...
KAREN CHISHOLM, 20 July 2012
Post-apocalyptic Melbourne again. Not my favourite place at all, although in TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT we don't seem to be too far in the future, and we don't seem to be that far from current day Melbourne, particularly in the way the city is divided into the have's and the have nots. The division is by way of the Dome - uptown paradise where rampant consumerism and mindless bullshit rules (doesn't sound all that far-fetched does it...). Outside the Dome we're talking dangerous, run down, mean streets, bars, fast food, and nasty goings on (another tick in the not that difficult to believe column).
Populate the place with Deviants and Seekers who keep them in line, add a central hero that's a chain-smoking, loud mouthed smart arse with a drinking habit and a surprisingly touching reason for doing the job, and frankly, I was in lunacy heaven.
What really works in TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT is the characterisations, as well as some very funny and mad storytelling. I suspect you're going to get even more than I did from this book if you're in any way a follower of popular culture on TV and in films.
Ask me before reading this book and I'd have told you I'm really not into post-apocalyptic scenarios. I'm also not a follower of popular culture and certainly not science fiction, yet somehow even I managed to notice the Blade Runner references in this book...
But honestly, didn't care I had no idea what was going on. Didn't care it's not the sort of book I'd normally read. Don't even care that I'm not even sure if it was crime fiction. It's definitely a thriller, and it's somewhere in the science fiction realm... probably. I'd guess. Honestly - no idea. Did I mention I loved it, did I mention I've got no idea what the hell was going on...
KAREN CHISHOLM, 20 July 2012
Zouch Magazine
Australians aren’t really known for hard-boiled, noir fiction, partly perhaps because their country is so dammed sunny. If we’re gonna go the whole hog and use some national stereotyping, let’s say we expect Australians to be care-free, relaxed and outdoors kinda people (if you’re not, my Antipodean friend, I want my money back). But when you think about it a little more, it does make sense that an Australian could write a Chandler-esque novel quite well (and in this case, better than well) because the flipside is that Australia is a tough and testing country. The weather can be relentless, the wild-life may kill ya and it’s one helluva big place. Still, sunshine, blonde beer and blonde girls convince me otherwise. When do we emigrate, darling?
Andrez Bergen is Australian and he’s the author of “Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat”. It’s post-apocalyptic and post-modern noir, in itself an unusual concept. Whilst Raymond Chandler may have been frustrated with the strict formula demanded by his editors, Bergen is fortunate to now be in a time in which publishers can take more of a gamble on a novel which subverts the genre it is inspired by. Bergen does this by futuristically updating the form, so he can write into, and out of, his imagination. There’s lots of brain-space in this book, but not so much to put you off if you usually steer away from science fiction. The novel has futuristic elements, but is still grounded in the human.
The hard-drinking, hard-boiled and witty hero, Floyd, would usually be the detective in a Chandler story but here in the “new” Melbourne, post-event, he’s placed in a bubble-like world as a “Seeker”, with more authority than a Chander detective, to seek, locate, apprehend, contain and terminate Deviants. As someone who spends most of his time with deviants of one type or another, I can understand why Floyd hates his job. Similarly it seems Bergen had experience of identifying with outsiders before writing this novel, working “a mind-numbing corporate job at an ad hoc government/private body, and it was there that I crossed paths with “Activities” (real but semi-illegal video surveillance we organized of car accident victims doing aerobics and the like). The Guide to Deviant Apprehension & Containment was roughly modelled on the corporate tome I had to learn by rote” (Bergen says). In “Mountain Goat” the Bill of Deviations has been backed, or pushed, by Wolram E. Deaps, CEO of the Hylax Corporation. And there’s no particular definition of deviancy, so it’s potentially all-encompassing. Chandler’s heroes have to fight the system to get some resolution and Bergen’s hero is no different. He’s only doing the job to pay his sick wife’s hospital bills, and he never gets to see her. He lives with the nagging fear of being “relocated” but somehow can’t keep his acerbic mouth shout. He’s constantly in trouble with authority, despite being in authority himself. And just as in Chandler’s novels, the hero’s instincts usually turn out to be correct.
Ultimately however what makes this book a good read is not plot nor form, but observation, wit and dialogue. Bergen clearly enjoys language (“the phone was beeping in its tinny, hysterical manner”). If you like hard-boiled humour and one-liners, this novel’s for you:
“I slunk home sometime around noon – though my watch was not to be trusted given that it was an archaic Japanese wind-up toy with a life expectancy intended to break kid’s hearts”.
There’s an element of absurdism throughout the book because of the particular world the characters now inhabit. Despite there being a “world” cricket team, it’s entirely made up of Australians (who play the “named” Australian team) as there’s nobody else left. The society which remains is shallow and consumerist (and I would suggest not because they’re Australian). Floyd’s almost zen-buddhist approach to life is therefore in strong contrast to what is around him (it’s perhaps noteworthy Bergen now lives in Asia). Plastic surgery is taken to the nth degree, and gadgets abound:
“I picked up what I thought to be an alien torture device, then twigged it was an electric toilet brush. A central display featured a silver toaster that looked a bit like it could do your taxes”.
The setting also means that if an individual has some form of ethics they stand out even more. Floyd tells Deaps that the fictional detectives “Spade and Marlowe had a certain approach to things – I guess you could call it a gritty combination of honour and integrity that coloured their actions. It’s something I always respected.” This is what Floyd himself embodies, and Bergen gives us examples of his hero putting himself out for others, and taking personal risks for others’ benefit.
In the background of a wasteland, Bergen makes as many allusions to film as TS Eliot made to literature. There’s a useful “Encylopedia Tobacciana” at the end of the novel which you can check out if you’re not sure what a reference is to, and similarly a glossary for the slang contained in the novel. These add to the sense of the quirky, as does the calligraphy in the book itself and the typeset. Chandler could perhaps be scratching his head about some of this, safe up in heaven-dead, but his own writing always struck me as kind of idiosyncratic, and we’re living in different times now brother. In a modern age of conspiracies and corporate agglomerates, I think he’d be pleased as to where Bergen has taken his legacy, even though Chandler said himself that an age which is incapable of poetry is incapable of any kind of literature except the cleverness of decadence.
CHARLES PITTER, 6 February, 2012
Dead End Follies
Some people I know could kill for an original idea.
Other people I know have originality broken down and streaming in their blood. Life's unfair. Andrez (really, Andrew) Bergen belongs to the second category. He has the Originality Gene in his DNA. TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT might be quoting and referencing about a hundred pop culture products, but all put together, it adds up to something you've never read before. A twentieth century obsessed law enforcement worker in a secluded city, in a distant and totalitarian future. Yeah, exactly. It's as crazy as the premise sounds. But beyond being crazy, it's a bold, borderline reckless experimentation with storytelling.
It's funny, because at first I thought Bergen was writing a story about nothing. I read and read and asked myself: "Where the hell is this going? Have I sped through the plot? Has Bergen sped through the plot?" But, no. Patience was rewarding as I started understanding Andrez Bergen's master plan. It's no coincidence if the chapters of TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT all have titles. They literally could all be torn off from the book and would work as a standalone short story. Put together in a novel though, they all feed into each other and create a deeper, more layered meaning. Now, pardon my french but this is bold as fuck. Bergen constantly gambles with his reader's attention and relies on his patience and intelligence to persevere and see the bigger picture he's creating. Takes balls to pull off such a stunt.
I don't know how I felt about the whole reference thingie going on in TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT. Sure, it was quirky but it got tiring after a while. Good thing though, Bergen seems to have grown tired of it too and after maybe half of he novel, it zeroes in on Floyd's obsession with Humphrey Bogart. While he stretched the idea for a little too long, he knew when to stop it. There is a second layer to his references though, which I thought was the most interesting. There are winks withing the story. The paranoid vibe, the vaguely named agencies, this is all very Philip K. Dick like. Throw in a 100% original narrator who himself sees the world through the eyes of hardboiled characters and you got yourself an intoxicating mix. The detail-oriented craftsmanship of Andrez Bergen won me over and made me appreciate the complex nature of what he was really doing.
"There's an age old Japanese saying: 'Nana korobi ya oki', which means 'falls seven times, rise eight times'-which is an encouragement to persevere."
"You persevered?"
"Not intentionally. But I survived."
Innovators usually suffer a bleak fate. The sheer volume of new ideas Andrez Bergen proposes in TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT will turn off some people as much as it will suck some in. On a long enough time frame, it is destined to be a cult classic, I think. It feels a little loose as the plot elements are scattered through and Floyd is a tiny bit too broadly painted to carry the weight of the novel by himself, but I applause Andrez Bergen's bravado for putting out so many new ideas into the same narrative. Floyd Maquina might not be remembered for his wild adventures, but he's a stone in the legacy Bergen has started building for himself. It's refreshing to see an author not necessarily aiming for New York Times Best Seller list and just being happy to share his vision of literature through his work.
Reading TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT makes it hard not to like Andrez Bergen as a person and a writer.
BENOIT LELIEVRE, 27 July 2012
Other people I know have originality broken down and streaming in their blood. Life's unfair. Andrez (really, Andrew) Bergen belongs to the second category. He has the Originality Gene in his DNA. TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT might be quoting and referencing about a hundred pop culture products, but all put together, it adds up to something you've never read before. A twentieth century obsessed law enforcement worker in a secluded city, in a distant and totalitarian future. Yeah, exactly. It's as crazy as the premise sounds. But beyond being crazy, it's a bold, borderline reckless experimentation with storytelling.
It's funny, because at first I thought Bergen was writing a story about nothing. I read and read and asked myself: "Where the hell is this going? Have I sped through the plot? Has Bergen sped through the plot?" But, no. Patience was rewarding as I started understanding Andrez Bergen's master plan. It's no coincidence if the chapters of TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT all have titles. They literally could all be torn off from the book and would work as a standalone short story. Put together in a novel though, they all feed into each other and create a deeper, more layered meaning. Now, pardon my french but this is bold as fuck. Bergen constantly gambles with his reader's attention and relies on his patience and intelligence to persevere and see the bigger picture he's creating. Takes balls to pull off such a stunt.
I don't know how I felt about the whole reference thingie going on in TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT. Sure, it was quirky but it got tiring after a while. Good thing though, Bergen seems to have grown tired of it too and after maybe half of he novel, it zeroes in on Floyd's obsession with Humphrey Bogart. While he stretched the idea for a little too long, he knew when to stop it. There is a second layer to his references though, which I thought was the most interesting. There are winks withing the story. The paranoid vibe, the vaguely named agencies, this is all very Philip K. Dick like. Throw in a 100% original narrator who himself sees the world through the eyes of hardboiled characters and you got yourself an intoxicating mix. The detail-oriented craftsmanship of Andrez Bergen won me over and made me appreciate the complex nature of what he was really doing.
"There's an age old Japanese saying: 'Nana korobi ya oki', which means 'falls seven times, rise eight times'-which is an encouragement to persevere."
"You persevered?"
"Not intentionally. But I survived."
Innovators usually suffer a bleak fate. The sheer volume of new ideas Andrez Bergen proposes in TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT will turn off some people as much as it will suck some in. On a long enough time frame, it is destined to be a cult classic, I think. It feels a little loose as the plot elements are scattered through and Floyd is a tiny bit too broadly painted to carry the weight of the novel by himself, but I applause Andrez Bergen's bravado for putting out so many new ideas into the same narrative. Floyd Maquina might not be remembered for his wild adventures, but he's a stone in the legacy Bergen has started building for himself. It's refreshing to see an author not necessarily aiming for New York Times Best Seller list and just being happy to share his vision of literature through his work.
Reading TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT makes it hard not to like Andrez Bergen as a person and a writer.
BENOIT LELIEVRE, 27 July 2012
Booked Podcast
We’re back from Bizarro-land, and to demonstrate that, we’re bringing you a review of a post-apocalyptic Melbourne Australia that’s chock-full of plastic surgery, social deviancy, detective movie references, and a few goats to boot. Check out Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, it’s pretty great.
Recommended to us by many people, including Gordon Highland, this book delivers. It’s a great little post-apocalyptic tale about a man who finds himself the pawn in a dangerous game, and what he does to stay alive, get the girl, and steal the goat.
LISTEN IN TO THE 28-MINUTE REVIEW & ANALYSIS HERE.
Recommended to us by many people, including Gordon Highland, this book delivers. It’s a great little post-apocalyptic tale about a man who finds himself the pawn in a dangerous game, and what he does to stay alive, get the girl, and steal the goat.
LISTEN IN TO THE 28-MINUTE REVIEW & ANALYSIS HERE.
The Nameless Horror
I’m waaaaaaay later (to the tune, Finder tells me with its ‘file info’ stats, of a whole year) to this than I wanted, and I haven’t yet even finished it, but here’s the non-quite-complete book review for Andrez Bergen’s superbly-titled darkly humourous sci-fi film noir hybrid thing Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat.
You can, if you follow that link to the publisher, read it for yourself, gratis, and decide if it’s worth paying actual money for (seriously; Another Sky Press puts its e-ditions out for download, with a ‘pay what you thought it was worth’ arrangement if you like them, which is very cool), and that’s probably the best way to see what it’s about. I won’t go into the plot, save to say it’s a character-driven noiry thing set in a near-future/alt-present Melbourne. If you picture Blade Runner mixed with Sam Spade and A Scanner, Darkly, you’re probably in roughly the right area.
It’s very good stuff. The writing’s sharp, Floyd (the main character), is likably miserable, and while it has its feet planted squarely in Bogart’s shoes (though it also has other feet elsewhere, so you might imagine it as some sort of centipede if that helps) it always stays the side of good rather than cheesy. The plot’s nice and convoluted and grimy, the titular goat is there, as described, and everything moves along very nicely indeed. And it has one of the finest titles there is.
I commend you to the downloadatron.
JOHN RICKARDS/SEAN CREGAN, 21 June, 2012
You can, if you follow that link to the publisher, read it for yourself, gratis, and decide if it’s worth paying actual money for (seriously; Another Sky Press puts its e-ditions out for download, with a ‘pay what you thought it was worth’ arrangement if you like them, which is very cool), and that’s probably the best way to see what it’s about. I won’t go into the plot, save to say it’s a character-driven noiry thing set in a near-future/alt-present Melbourne. If you picture Blade Runner mixed with Sam Spade and A Scanner, Darkly, you’re probably in roughly the right area.
It’s very good stuff. The writing’s sharp, Floyd (the main character), is likably miserable, and while it has its feet planted squarely in Bogart’s shoes (though it also has other feet elsewhere, so you might imagine it as some sort of centipede if that helps) it always stays the side of good rather than cheesy. The plot’s nice and convoluted and grimy, the titular goat is there, as described, and everything moves along very nicely indeed. And it has one of the finest titles there is.
I commend you to the downloadatron.
JOHN RICKARDS/SEAN CREGAN, 21 June, 2012
Farrago Magazine
Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat (TSMG): the title says it all. The obscurity and mystique, which grabs you the minute you lay eyes on the name of Australian expatriate Andrez Bergen’s debut novel, is initially dismissed as irrelevant.
However, once you read it through, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat begins to slowly and ironically unravel into significance in more than just one way. This seems to be a habit of the author throughout the novel, by playing both with the reader and narrative form.
This playfulness is necessary within TSMG, a story based around a post-apocalyptic Melbourne where consumerism, class division, discrimination and corruption run rampant. The humour and trivial observations injected into this subtle social commentary prevent Bergen’s novel from becoming cliché or a “doom and gloom” vision of the future that would probably leave you crying yourself to sleep at night.
Such observations include the numerous of pop culture references made by the protagonist Floyd Maquina. These are exemplified by the title of the novel, which is one of Bergen’s many tributes to 1950s film and celebrity, specifically a film called That Certain Feeling starring Hollywood actor George Sanders. Lost you already? Don’t worry. Much to the relief and interest of the reader, Bergen—without condescending intentions—provides a glossary. The author’s self-deprecation helps ground his writing, preventing him from self-indulgence and losing himself in intellectual pretension. The use of an outsider-author voice again avoids a “bogging down” effect caused by heavy content, especially the blurring of reality and dream within the narrative.
All in all Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat is a great read: a well-rounded book from a well-rounded individual. Bergen’s experience in journalism, photography, music and art amongst other things, easily translates into this expat Australian’s homage to Melbourne and its culture.
ZOE KINGSLEY, 13 May 2011
However, once you read it through, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat begins to slowly and ironically unravel into significance in more than just one way. This seems to be a habit of the author throughout the novel, by playing both with the reader and narrative form.
This playfulness is necessary within TSMG, a story based around a post-apocalyptic Melbourne where consumerism, class division, discrimination and corruption run rampant. The humour and trivial observations injected into this subtle social commentary prevent Bergen’s novel from becoming cliché or a “doom and gloom” vision of the future that would probably leave you crying yourself to sleep at night.
Such observations include the numerous of pop culture references made by the protagonist Floyd Maquina. These are exemplified by the title of the novel, which is one of Bergen’s many tributes to 1950s film and celebrity, specifically a film called That Certain Feeling starring Hollywood actor George Sanders. Lost you already? Don’t worry. Much to the relief and interest of the reader, Bergen—without condescending intentions—provides a glossary. The author’s self-deprecation helps ground his writing, preventing him from self-indulgence and losing himself in intellectual pretension. The use of an outsider-author voice again avoids a “bogging down” effect caused by heavy content, especially the blurring of reality and dream within the narrative.
All in all Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat is a great read: a well-rounded book from a well-rounded individual. Bergen’s experience in journalism, photography, music and art amongst other things, easily translates into this expat Australian’s homage to Melbourne and its culture.
ZOE KINGSLEY, 13 May 2011
Australian Speculative Fiction in Focus
_Andrez Bergen’s novel, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, was released by Another Sky Press earlier this year.
Billed as “Blade Runner with a touch of Sam Spade”, the novel fuses the tropes of the science fiction and detective genres (hardly a new idea in itself) and ends up being something genuinely different from either. And that’s always a good thing. Partly this is because of the post-apocalyptic Melbourne setting, where it never seems to stop raining, but mostly it is due to Bergen’s extensive (and I mean extensive) film references in the novel.
Our P.I.’s name is Floyd and he’s an unhappy sort. He has a sick wife named Veronica who is hospitalised and may soon die. He has a job seeking out deviants, and for this he has ‘The Guide to Deviant Apprehension & Containment’, with its mantra of ‘Seek, Locate, Apprehend, Contain, Terminate [if necessary].’ Basically he’s a bounty hunter, and he’s none too happy about it, hence the copious amounts of alcohol that spill from Floyd’s pores and from these pages. Sometimes he is forced to undergo ‘The Test’, a virtual reality plane where he is subjected to various questions and challenges set by his nefarious employers. Floyd hates his job but he has to continue doing it to pay for Veronica’s ‘Hospitalization.’
This setup seems pretty standard. What is less standard about Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat are those copious film references I mentioned earlier. To give you an example of what I mean, these are the films referenced in the first chapter: The Third Man, Spellbound and The Illustrated Man. Add to this the references to Caberet Voltaire and Throbbing Gristle and you have a post-modern melange that is the most intriguing of novels.
Into this heady mix is thrown a generous dose of the Japanese culture that Bergen himself must know so much about, given that he has lived in Japan for many years. So we have a fossil of an old lady wearing a kimono appearing during ‘The Test’, discussion of the meaning of Japanese words, and more film references, such as to Seven Samurai. This works well in combination with the run-down detective situation, of course recalling the aforementioned Blade Runner. Bergen writes assertively about Japanese culture and it works well enough on a gaijin like me.
Early on we are introduced to the seductive Laurel, who ends up taking the place of the sickly Veronica in Floyd’s life, but not his heart. Floyd’s apartment, apartment 1001, is about as shambolic as the contents of his mind. The only alcohol remaining untouched is a bottle of Siamese vodka, and the only companionship emanates from the actors in films like The Big Sleep and The Maltese Falcon that constantly play on the TV. Like Chandler’s Marlowe, Floyd is very much alone in the world.
Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is a novel that manages to be hardboiled and playful at the same time. What might otherwise be unremittingly bleak fare is lightened significantly by Floyd’s filmic imagination and his wisecracking wordplay. With little to sustain him (his diet seems to consist mainly of vodka, salt and vinegar chips, chocolate almonds and cigarettes), Floyd must struggle against both inner and outer demons. Alcohol seems to be the root of his problems, and he seems to get sozzled and beaten, not necessarily in that order, all too frequently. It’s an enjoyable read and one that I can heartily recommend to lovers of Melbourne, the detective genre, old movies, Japanese culture, or preferably all of the above. Rather impressively, the novel even contains an ‘Encyclopedia Tobacciana’, explaining many of the cultural references dotting these pages. There’s even a Glossary and a list of recommended films.
A word on this novel’s publisher, Another Sky Press. Based in Portland, Oregon, Another Sky has adopted a fairly radical publishing platform. Not only can you download their books for free, but if you want a physical copy you only pay how much you think the book deserves, plus a (miniscule) base price which would barely cover the cost of printing. You can read up on Another Sky’s philosophy here. I wholeheartedly approve of these policies and so should you. We need to support small companies such as this one to ensure that off-the-wall titles like Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat reach the audience they deserve.
GUY SALVIDGE, 29 November 2011
Billed as “Blade Runner with a touch of Sam Spade”, the novel fuses the tropes of the science fiction and detective genres (hardly a new idea in itself) and ends up being something genuinely different from either. And that’s always a good thing. Partly this is because of the post-apocalyptic Melbourne setting, where it never seems to stop raining, but mostly it is due to Bergen’s extensive (and I mean extensive) film references in the novel.
Our P.I.’s name is Floyd and he’s an unhappy sort. He has a sick wife named Veronica who is hospitalised and may soon die. He has a job seeking out deviants, and for this he has ‘The Guide to Deviant Apprehension & Containment’, with its mantra of ‘Seek, Locate, Apprehend, Contain, Terminate [if necessary].’ Basically he’s a bounty hunter, and he’s none too happy about it, hence the copious amounts of alcohol that spill from Floyd’s pores and from these pages. Sometimes he is forced to undergo ‘The Test’, a virtual reality plane where he is subjected to various questions and challenges set by his nefarious employers. Floyd hates his job but he has to continue doing it to pay for Veronica’s ‘Hospitalization.’
This setup seems pretty standard. What is less standard about Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat are those copious film references I mentioned earlier. To give you an example of what I mean, these are the films referenced in the first chapter: The Third Man, Spellbound and The Illustrated Man. Add to this the references to Caberet Voltaire and Throbbing Gristle and you have a post-modern melange that is the most intriguing of novels.
Into this heady mix is thrown a generous dose of the Japanese culture that Bergen himself must know so much about, given that he has lived in Japan for many years. So we have a fossil of an old lady wearing a kimono appearing during ‘The Test’, discussion of the meaning of Japanese words, and more film references, such as to Seven Samurai. This works well in combination with the run-down detective situation, of course recalling the aforementioned Blade Runner. Bergen writes assertively about Japanese culture and it works well enough on a gaijin like me.
Early on we are introduced to the seductive Laurel, who ends up taking the place of the sickly Veronica in Floyd’s life, but not his heart. Floyd’s apartment, apartment 1001, is about as shambolic as the contents of his mind. The only alcohol remaining untouched is a bottle of Siamese vodka, and the only companionship emanates from the actors in films like The Big Sleep and The Maltese Falcon that constantly play on the TV. Like Chandler’s Marlowe, Floyd is very much alone in the world.
Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is a novel that manages to be hardboiled and playful at the same time. What might otherwise be unremittingly bleak fare is lightened significantly by Floyd’s filmic imagination and his wisecracking wordplay. With little to sustain him (his diet seems to consist mainly of vodka, salt and vinegar chips, chocolate almonds and cigarettes), Floyd must struggle against both inner and outer demons. Alcohol seems to be the root of his problems, and he seems to get sozzled and beaten, not necessarily in that order, all too frequently. It’s an enjoyable read and one that I can heartily recommend to lovers of Melbourne, the detective genre, old movies, Japanese culture, or preferably all of the above. Rather impressively, the novel even contains an ‘Encyclopedia Tobacciana’, explaining many of the cultural references dotting these pages. There’s even a Glossary and a list of recommended films.
A word on this novel’s publisher, Another Sky Press. Based in Portland, Oregon, Another Sky has adopted a fairly radical publishing platform. Not only can you download their books for free, but if you want a physical copy you only pay how much you think the book deserves, plus a (miniscule) base price which would barely cover the cost of printing. You can read up on Another Sky’s philosophy here. I wholeheartedly approve of these policies and so should you. We need to support small companies such as this one to ensure that off-the-wall titles like Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat reach the audience they deserve.
GUY SALVIDGE, 29 November 2011
You Would Say That, Wouldn't You?
I’ve seen The Future and it’s … Noir. Tobacco-stained noir, at that.
Andrez Bergen’s brilliant Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is set in a dystopian version of Melbourne, in a not too distant future, after some sort of catastrophe has wiped out the rest of the world. The city itself is split into different parts. The uptown area is known as The Dome, a squeaky-clean and shining consumerist paradise where the plastic surgery-enhanced and empty-headed rich live. Outside the Dome, though, it’s a little different. These are dangerous and mean streets, riddled with run down bars, fast food joints. And Deviants.
Now, most Deviants are 'relocated' elsewhere, keeping the city straight, but some go on the run and it’s the job of the Seekers to track them down. Floyd Maquina is such a Seeker, enrolled so he can afford to pay for his wife’s hospital bills. Maquina is a great creation - a boozy, chain-smoking, smart mouthed amalgam of every private eye you’ve ever seen on the silver screen. Since the late part of the twentieth century, so many of us have seen the real world filtered through the television or film cameraman’s lens. And Floyd Maquina is just one of those people. As is Bergen, of course. Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is littered, almost cluttered, with cultural references from Sam Spade to Kurosowa to Cabaret Voltaire to, more obviously, Blade Runner. And is in danger at times of drowning in the stuff but it doesn’t, due mainly to the great characters and Andrez Bergen’s witty, snappy, and immensely addictive writing.
With Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, Bergen has created one of the most vibrant, inventive, exciting, funny and purely enjoyable novels I’ve read since I don’t know when. There’s no other way to say it: I bloody loved this book and I want more!
PAUL D. BRAZILL, 1 June 2012
Andrez Bergen’s brilliant Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is set in a dystopian version of Melbourne, in a not too distant future, after some sort of catastrophe has wiped out the rest of the world. The city itself is split into different parts. The uptown area is known as The Dome, a squeaky-clean and shining consumerist paradise where the plastic surgery-enhanced and empty-headed rich live. Outside the Dome, though, it’s a little different. These are dangerous and mean streets, riddled with run down bars, fast food joints. And Deviants.
Now, most Deviants are 'relocated' elsewhere, keeping the city straight, but some go on the run and it’s the job of the Seekers to track them down. Floyd Maquina is such a Seeker, enrolled so he can afford to pay for his wife’s hospital bills. Maquina is a great creation - a boozy, chain-smoking, smart mouthed amalgam of every private eye you’ve ever seen on the silver screen. Since the late part of the twentieth century, so many of us have seen the real world filtered through the television or film cameraman’s lens. And Floyd Maquina is just one of those people. As is Bergen, of course. Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is littered, almost cluttered, with cultural references from Sam Spade to Kurosowa to Cabaret Voltaire to, more obviously, Blade Runner. And is in danger at times of drowning in the stuff but it doesn’t, due mainly to the great characters and Andrez Bergen’s witty, snappy, and immensely addictive writing.
With Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, Bergen has created one of the most vibrant, inventive, exciting, funny and purely enjoyable novels I’ve read since I don’t know when. There’s no other way to say it: I bloody loved this book and I want more!
PAUL D. BRAZILL, 1 June 2012
Read 2 Review
Now, normally when I’m handed a new book, I can usually tell what it’s about by the cover and the title. But when I was handed this one I had NO IDEA what to expect. For all I knew I was about to read some Pythonesque kinda comedy. What I got was much more different though – and that’s in a good way.
Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat is described as a kinda of “sci-fi noir” according to some other reviews of it. Think of it as a kind old fashioned '40s movie, mixed in with some elements of the films Blade Runner and Mad Max and that’s pretty much what you get. The story follows Floyd, a Seeker who is in charge of cleaning up the Deviants of the city (I wasn’t sure if Deviants were supposed to be mutants or not) and the story is told from his POV. It’s set in the future in the city of Melbourne, the only remaining city left and the environment is pretty bleak and uninviting.
I love the character of Floyd – he’s an interesting anti-hero. Stuck in a job that he hates (for reasons I won’t go into for the sake of spoilers), he seems more interested in drinking himself stupid and catching whatever thrill he can to forget his terrible lifestyle. But Floyd is also a connoisseur on the finer things in life, constantly referring obscure movies and genres – everything from Bogart movies to anime. I love the many references to Japanese cultures that he references in this novel, being a fan of manga myself.
Being that the book is set in Australia, the dialogue has a lot of Australian slang and terms to it and this is why it stands out. It doesn’t try to emulate any other sci-fi story but rather takes concepts that have been done and adds its own voice to them. This makes an otherwise tired story really interesting. Add to that plenty of plot twists, conspiracies and some pretty decent gun fights and you’ve got one hell of a great story.
Never has the phrase “don’t judge a book by its cover” had more relevance that with this one. The title prepared me for something and then delivered something completely different; and I was glad that it went against my expectations. I would easily say that this is one of the best new books that I’ve read in 2012 so far. It has a great hero, a well thought out, structured world and plenty of nods to the classics of the past. But where does the title Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat come into it? Well, you’ll have to read to find out – and I highly recommend you do.
In conclusion, I give this book 5/5 stars.
DAN WRIGHT, 23 April 2012
Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat is described as a kinda of “sci-fi noir” according to some other reviews of it. Think of it as a kind old fashioned '40s movie, mixed in with some elements of the films Blade Runner and Mad Max and that’s pretty much what you get. The story follows Floyd, a Seeker who is in charge of cleaning up the Deviants of the city (I wasn’t sure if Deviants were supposed to be mutants or not) and the story is told from his POV. It’s set in the future in the city of Melbourne, the only remaining city left and the environment is pretty bleak and uninviting.
I love the character of Floyd – he’s an interesting anti-hero. Stuck in a job that he hates (for reasons I won’t go into for the sake of spoilers), he seems more interested in drinking himself stupid and catching whatever thrill he can to forget his terrible lifestyle. But Floyd is also a connoisseur on the finer things in life, constantly referring obscure movies and genres – everything from Bogart movies to anime. I love the many references to Japanese cultures that he references in this novel, being a fan of manga myself.
Being that the book is set in Australia, the dialogue has a lot of Australian slang and terms to it and this is why it stands out. It doesn’t try to emulate any other sci-fi story but rather takes concepts that have been done and adds its own voice to them. This makes an otherwise tired story really interesting. Add to that plenty of plot twists, conspiracies and some pretty decent gun fights and you’ve got one hell of a great story.
Never has the phrase “don’t judge a book by its cover” had more relevance that with this one. The title prepared me for something and then delivered something completely different; and I was glad that it went against my expectations. I would easily say that this is one of the best new books that I’ve read in 2012 so far. It has a great hero, a well thought out, structured world and plenty of nods to the classics of the past. But where does the title Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat come into it? Well, you’ll have to read to find out – and I highly recommend you do.
In conclusion, I give this book 5/5 stars.
DAN WRIGHT, 23 April 2012
The British Fantasy Society
_Set in a future Australia, the world having been devastated by some
unspecified disaster; Melbourne, like all good future cities has become a
dystopia where the rich live in an artificial bubble, the Dome, whilst
the poor make ends meet outside, on the continually rain soaked mean
streets. Floyd Maquina, is an unwilling Seeker, tasked with tracking
down and eliminating Deviants, those people considered surplus to the
requirements of the city. Having little choice about the role that is
thrust upon him, he takes a lax attitude to his work and superiors,
whilst ensuring any Deviants he deals with are apprehended rather than
killed. Unsurprisingly, Floyd in a pawn in a much bigger game, and the
powers that be know how to manipulate him and the decaying urban world
around them. With his wife requiring expensive medical assistance, the
threat that she might be deemed deviant, Floyd has no other choice than
to hit bottle and take his seat for the joyride.
Bergen has great affection for film noir, gangsters and cool broads with a shady past. Jokes and references zip past and clobber the reader, so many that an encyclopaedia, glossary and film/reading list are included should you want to check those you have missed. The atmosphere is similar in style to the movie Blade Runner whilst the structure is from The Maltese Falcon.
Witty and literate, the book skips along at a lively pace, slows somewhat in the middle and then makes a mad dash for the finishing line. Floyd is a likeable character, the low down gumshoe in need of a quick buck and a shot of whisky is a familiar trope, and Bergen gets the voice and accent just right. The story does go a little off kilter at times, meandering rather than setting out any true destination, but it is the ride rather than the finishing line that makes this a fun read. It’s certainly no worse than trying to understand the plot holes in many of the best Bogart movies.
ADAM J. SHARDLOW, 9 January 2012
Bergen has great affection for film noir, gangsters and cool broads with a shady past. Jokes and references zip past and clobber the reader, so many that an encyclopaedia, glossary and film/reading list are included should you want to check those you have missed. The atmosphere is similar in style to the movie Blade Runner whilst the structure is from The Maltese Falcon.
Witty and literate, the book skips along at a lively pace, slows somewhat in the middle and then makes a mad dash for the finishing line. Floyd is a likeable character, the low down gumshoe in need of a quick buck and a shot of whisky is a familiar trope, and Bergen gets the voice and accent just right. The story does go a little off kilter at times, meandering rather than setting out any true destination, but it is the ride rather than the finishing line that makes this a fun read. It’s certainly no worse than trying to understand the plot holes in many of the best Bogart movies.
ADAM J. SHARDLOW, 9 January 2012
The Kindle Book Review
_I did not expect to enjoy this book as much as I did. Wow. At the
beginning, I was having a bit of trouble trying to orient myself with
this nasty, rainy, harsh environment. But then, the story came more into
focus, and the characters started coming alive. Jumping from real world
to the virtual tests confused me a little bit, but as they seemed to
really screw with the poor Seekers taking them, too, I just kinda rolled
with it.
I really felt for Floyd in spite of his drunken existence. I hurt for him, I was angry for him, I was right along with him as he started to reach out for loved ones as they started slipping away, family and friends alike. I am fairly young and didn't find myself struggling to figure out the film references (but maybe I'm just a nerd, who knows?) and enjoyed the mixture of languages (which I also didn't need the reference guides for, but appreciated that they were there). The guides at the end were fun for me to read, because I felt Mr. Bergen was conscientious about his readers and wanted his story to be accessible to people of many cultures. I also liked that although the story was set in Australia, Australians weren't the only culture left on the planet.
Floyd is admirably tough and lovable, which takes some strength in a world where people get snatched away for no good reasons thanks to corporate greed and politics. He manages to pull himself from a helpless position in his world to a position of power to try and save people he cares about as well as society in general... at least, whatever's left of it, soggy with acid rain and scarred by struggling to grow in a dying world. What's scary, though, is that aside from just a little bit of futuristic cosmetic surgery and a few other things, you could look around at the current global climate and see this mess be a real possibility.
That gives me just enough of a spine-chill to hope certain company executives never read this tale, and that humanity hasn't been consumerized into (near) extinction just yet.
KATHERINE X, January 22, 2012
I really felt for Floyd in spite of his drunken existence. I hurt for him, I was angry for him, I was right along with him as he started to reach out for loved ones as they started slipping away, family and friends alike. I am fairly young and didn't find myself struggling to figure out the film references (but maybe I'm just a nerd, who knows?) and enjoyed the mixture of languages (which I also didn't need the reference guides for, but appreciated that they were there). The guides at the end were fun for me to read, because I felt Mr. Bergen was conscientious about his readers and wanted his story to be accessible to people of many cultures. I also liked that although the story was set in Australia, Australians weren't the only culture left on the planet.
Floyd is admirably tough and lovable, which takes some strength in a world where people get snatched away for no good reasons thanks to corporate greed and politics. He manages to pull himself from a helpless position in his world to a position of power to try and save people he cares about as well as society in general... at least, whatever's left of it, soggy with acid rain and scarred by struggling to grow in a dying world. What's scary, though, is that aside from just a little bit of futuristic cosmetic surgery and a few other things, you could look around at the current global climate and see this mess be a real possibility.
That gives me just enough of a spine-chill to hope certain company executives never read this tale, and that humanity hasn't been consumerized into (near) extinction just yet.
KATHERINE X, January 22, 2012
Geek Girls
I recently got a copy of the new book Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat by Andrez Bergen. It is an original, dark work of dystopian fiction that I’ve had a hard time putting down. Dark tales of a broken future have always been a favorite of mine and this little gem has not been a letdown.
The tale takes place in Australia within the last city left on earth. Riots, pollution and over population plague the last bastion of humanity, save for a few the upper class that live in the ‘dome’. The population is kept in check in this police state by not only the cops, but by a shadowy group called seekers. We come into the story of the main character mid train wreck. His existence is rife with booze, drugs and cinematic references. Every night he attempts to burn the memories of his questionable and distasteful life with a bottle and a few pills.
Bergen does a terrific job of showing the stark difference between the glistening plastic world of the elites and dripping, crumbling world that everyone else is left to try to survive in. Although it’s extreme, the parallels to ‘the real world’ are obvious. A gripping page turner at a more than reasonable price, I recommend that everyone go to the publisher’s site and get a free pdf file to preview the book, and then buy a copy to support the artist Andrez Bergen.
JODY BINGEMAN, 5 May 2011
The tale takes place in Australia within the last city left on earth. Riots, pollution and over population plague the last bastion of humanity, save for a few the upper class that live in the ‘dome’. The population is kept in check in this police state by not only the cops, but by a shadowy group called seekers. We come into the story of the main character mid train wreck. His existence is rife with booze, drugs and cinematic references. Every night he attempts to burn the memories of his questionable and distasteful life with a bottle and a few pills.
Bergen does a terrific job of showing the stark difference between the glistening plastic world of the elites and dripping, crumbling world that everyone else is left to try to survive in. Although it’s extreme, the parallels to ‘the real world’ are obvious. A gripping page turner at a more than reasonable price, I recommend that everyone go to the publisher’s site and get a free pdf file to preview the book, and then buy a copy to support the artist Andrez Bergen.
JODY BINGEMAN, 5 May 2011
Forces Of Geek
In the future according to Andrez Bergen’s Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, Melbourne, Australia is the last holdout for humanity. While it’s rich thrive in the city’s futuristic Dome, it’s poor struggle in the outskirts against the double threat of poverty and paranoid overlords. Stuck in the middle is Floyd Maquina, a flatfoot with a perpetual drink in hand and dame or two to kill for.
Floyd is a Seeker, a bounty hunter of sorts employed by Melbourne’s questionable government to find, apprehend and, if necessary, terminate citizens they consider to be Deviants. These Deviants are never explicitly defined; neither is The Catastrophe that got this bizarro, future-noir yarn rolling.
Constantly questioning his role at the end of the world, Floyd quickly finds himself stuck in the middle of a story that’s a delicious bit of Chinatown 1930s wrapped around a Blade Runner future with a dash of post 9/11 paranoia for good measure. Double- and triple-dealings lurk around every corner and for every twist and turn there’s a wisecrack and a nod to the gumshoes of Hollywood’s yesteryear.
There’s the botched assignment that haunts his nightmares and drives up his astronomical bar tab. The femme fatale. The suspicious workings of the powers that be and the foreboding, ever-presence of a corporation that seems to have its hands in a little bit of everything. The best part? Floyd recognizes the similarity between his own situations the lives of the P.I.’s from the silver screen.
Narrated by Floyd, a self-described cinephile, the book is playfully—and more important tastefully—written in the reference-packed language of the film geek. The pop culture shout-outs come at you early and often and should one go over your head, Bergen has been so kind as to include a complete glossary of film references and slang at the back.
When Bergen isn’t riffing on genres he’s taking frequent swings at the world we live in. Whether he’s shining a light on the gross imbalance between classes in an economic crisis or amplifying our obsession with cosmetic perfection to gaudy extremes, Bergen’s punches land frighteningly close to home.
However when the story shifts from exciting genre mash-up to spotlight hogging commentary during the book’s second half, things lose a bit of steam. Floyd’s whip-crack narration suddenly takes a back seat to a very specific examination of media manipulation and for several chapters the books runs the risk of losing sight of what it does best. Thankfully the end justifies the means, but when he’s firing on all cylinders, Bergen’s critiques work more seamlessly with his characters and setting.
Cleverly combining the gun toting flatfoots—flatfeet?—of the Silver Screen’s past with the paranoid futures of Philip K. Dick and William Gibson, Bergen delivers a gripping mystery that’s as informed by our popular and contemporary cultures as it is weary of where they might be taking us. Funny, action packed and keeping you guessing until it’s final pages, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat hits you like a stiff drink. Once you’ve tossed it back, you’ll be jonesin’ for the next round.
TONY PACITTI, 20 April 2011
Floyd is a Seeker, a bounty hunter of sorts employed by Melbourne’s questionable government to find, apprehend and, if necessary, terminate citizens they consider to be Deviants. These Deviants are never explicitly defined; neither is The Catastrophe that got this bizarro, future-noir yarn rolling.
Constantly questioning his role at the end of the world, Floyd quickly finds himself stuck in the middle of a story that’s a delicious bit of Chinatown 1930s wrapped around a Blade Runner future with a dash of post 9/11 paranoia for good measure. Double- and triple-dealings lurk around every corner and for every twist and turn there’s a wisecrack and a nod to the gumshoes of Hollywood’s yesteryear.
There’s the botched assignment that haunts his nightmares and drives up his astronomical bar tab. The femme fatale. The suspicious workings of the powers that be and the foreboding, ever-presence of a corporation that seems to have its hands in a little bit of everything. The best part? Floyd recognizes the similarity between his own situations the lives of the P.I.’s from the silver screen.
Narrated by Floyd, a self-described cinephile, the book is playfully—and more important tastefully—written in the reference-packed language of the film geek. The pop culture shout-outs come at you early and often and should one go over your head, Bergen has been so kind as to include a complete glossary of film references and slang at the back.
When Bergen isn’t riffing on genres he’s taking frequent swings at the world we live in. Whether he’s shining a light on the gross imbalance between classes in an economic crisis or amplifying our obsession with cosmetic perfection to gaudy extremes, Bergen’s punches land frighteningly close to home.
However when the story shifts from exciting genre mash-up to spotlight hogging commentary during the book’s second half, things lose a bit of steam. Floyd’s whip-crack narration suddenly takes a back seat to a very specific examination of media manipulation and for several chapters the books runs the risk of losing sight of what it does best. Thankfully the end justifies the means, but when he’s firing on all cylinders, Bergen’s critiques work more seamlessly with his characters and setting.
Cleverly combining the gun toting flatfoots—flatfeet?—of the Silver Screen’s past with the paranoid futures of Philip K. Dick and William Gibson, Bergen delivers a gripping mystery that’s as informed by our popular and contemporary cultures as it is weary of where they might be taking us. Funny, action packed and keeping you guessing until it’s final pages, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat hits you like a stiff drink. Once you’ve tossed it back, you’ll be jonesin’ for the next round.
TONY PACITTI, 20 April 2011
SF Book Reviews
Melbourne, Australia - a metropolis that at one time was the biggest and wealthiest city in the world, ranked as one of the top three world's most liveable cities and a mecca for the arts, commerce, education, entertainment, sport and tourism. It also happens to be the only city in the world left standing after a worldwide apocalypse wipes everything else off the planet.
Your narrator for the evening is Floyd Maquina, a likable chap with one hell of a story to share. There is a Deviant menace sweeping the city, a plague that our boy finds himself in the thick of. Cue guns, intrigue, kidnappings, conspiracy and all sorts of general mayhem that make for cracking good headlines. Does Floyd stop the bad guys? Does he get the girl? Does he make Humphrey Bogart proud? Grab some popcorn and read on.
Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is quite something else, narrated in the first person by the protagonist, the book has a roguish, affable dialog that makes the reader feel like a close friend is imparting a true story. It also makes heavy references to some of the classic black and white film noir such as The Third Man (paraphrased at the beginning of the novel) and The Maltese Falcon (liberally littered with quotes). This manages to set the scene quite nicely and before long we are led into a post apocalyptic Melbourne, the last city in the world.
The author clearly has a highly-developed grasp of the English language, defying conventional story telling methods and creating a unique voice to the narrative that almost feels non-linear. The fact that he manages to succeed here really does speak volumes, the last time I read such defiant wordplay was when I last visited China Miéville's work - although the comparison does stop there - both are vastly different in style and content. In places the author does push these boundaries a little too much, there are a few occasions when it took me a minute to realise the story had shifted from past to present or one dialogue to another but these are really few and far between.
The dialog is quick witted and very offbeat, occasionally sliding into the surreal and this helps to keeps the narrative really fresh, encouraging the reader to pay attention. This isn't one of those novels that you can just switch off half your brain while reading it asks for your undivided right from the start. In style it has a strong noir feel, very much like the hard-boiled detectives such as Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe - but set in a rich post-apocalyptic near future world which has been influenced by the likes of Ridley Scott and Raymond Chandler in equal measure. There also a wonderful infusion of the authors multicultural background, blending Australia with Japan then mixing it up with classic cinematography, creating something very different.
The story itself is enough to keep you glued to your seat, if a little predictable at times, the pace is pretty even and fairly fast while the characterisation is handled masterfully, Floyd is an unforgettable antihero that I would love to meet again.
Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is an incredible novel, completely unexpected and with such a wonderfully rich and unique style that is simply mesmerising, unmissable.
ANTONY, 18 July 2011
Your narrator for the evening is Floyd Maquina, a likable chap with one hell of a story to share. There is a Deviant menace sweeping the city, a plague that our boy finds himself in the thick of. Cue guns, intrigue, kidnappings, conspiracy and all sorts of general mayhem that make for cracking good headlines. Does Floyd stop the bad guys? Does he get the girl? Does he make Humphrey Bogart proud? Grab some popcorn and read on.
Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is quite something else, narrated in the first person by the protagonist, the book has a roguish, affable dialog that makes the reader feel like a close friend is imparting a true story. It also makes heavy references to some of the classic black and white film noir such as The Third Man (paraphrased at the beginning of the novel) and The Maltese Falcon (liberally littered with quotes). This manages to set the scene quite nicely and before long we are led into a post apocalyptic Melbourne, the last city in the world.
The author clearly has a highly-developed grasp of the English language, defying conventional story telling methods and creating a unique voice to the narrative that almost feels non-linear. The fact that he manages to succeed here really does speak volumes, the last time I read such defiant wordplay was when I last visited China Miéville's work - although the comparison does stop there - both are vastly different in style and content. In places the author does push these boundaries a little too much, there are a few occasions when it took me a minute to realise the story had shifted from past to present or one dialogue to another but these are really few and far between.
The dialog is quick witted and very offbeat, occasionally sliding into the surreal and this helps to keeps the narrative really fresh, encouraging the reader to pay attention. This isn't one of those novels that you can just switch off half your brain while reading it asks for your undivided right from the start. In style it has a strong noir feel, very much like the hard-boiled detectives such as Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe - but set in a rich post-apocalyptic near future world which has been influenced by the likes of Ridley Scott and Raymond Chandler in equal measure. There also a wonderful infusion of the authors multicultural background, blending Australia with Japan then mixing it up with classic cinematography, creating something very different.
The story itself is enough to keep you glued to your seat, if a little predictable at times, the pace is pretty even and fairly fast while the characterisation is handled masterfully, Floyd is an unforgettable antihero that I would love to meet again.
Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is an incredible novel, completely unexpected and with such a wonderfully rich and unique style that is simply mesmerising, unmissable.
ANTONY, 18 July 2011
Heath Lowrance, author @ Psycho-Noir
_On the last day of the year, I dug into Andrez Bergen’s TOBACCO-STAINED MOUNTAIN GOAT,
which was probably the oddest book I read all year.
I had a few books in front of it on the TBR cue, but a terrific cover and an intriguing first page caused this one to jump the cue and become the last book of the year for me.
Again, there’s some remarkable genre cross-over going on here, a sort of noir-ish flair rubbing up against a dystopian, Philip K. Dick bleakness. I was worried that Bergen, as a writer entirely new to me, wouldn’t be able to sustain the charm and solid writing in TSMG’s earliest pages, but I needn’t have worried.
The man’s imagination is vivid and consistent, and his love of old films (woven so nicely throughout the story) will appeal to anyone who grew up watching Bogart flicks.
HEATH LOWRANCE, 5 January 2012
I had a few books in front of it on the TBR cue, but a terrific cover and an intriguing first page caused this one to jump the cue and become the last book of the year for me.
Again, there’s some remarkable genre cross-over going on here, a sort of noir-ish flair rubbing up against a dystopian, Philip K. Dick bleakness. I was worried that Bergen, as a writer entirely new to me, wouldn’t be able to sustain the charm and solid writing in TSMG’s earliest pages, but I needn’t have worried.
The man’s imagination is vivid and consistent, and his love of old films (woven so nicely throughout the story) will appeal to anyone who grew up watching Bogart flicks.
HEATH LOWRANCE, 5 January 2012
Permission To Kill
I do not know anything about science fiction noir – beyond Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner. Of course I am talking about the original release which had the voice-over narration by Harrison Ford, not the plethora of director’s cuts and re-releases since 1982. I remember at the time, I actually tried to read Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep – which was the basis for the film Blade Runner. The thing is, science fiction isn’t really my bag, and I didn’t know what the hell was going on – so I wandered away from that one, more than a little confused (it’s nothing like the film).
However, hard-boiled detective fiction is something that I am familiar with, having read my share of Chandler, Spillane and Hammett. All of which are perfect preparatory tools to Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, which is a retro pop culturist’s dream come true – and fairly entertaining to boot.
The story, which is set in Melbourne, Australia, some time in the future, concerns a fellow named Floyd, who, when his wife becomes ill and racks up extensive medical bills, is coerced into employment as a ‘Seeker’. And despite the Melbourne setting, being a ‘Seeker’ has nothing to do with singing ‘Georgy Girl’ or ‘The Carnival is Over’.
A Seeker is a bit like a cop, and their job is to hunt down ‘Devs’ – Deviants. But unlike other Seekers, Floyd is not particularly trigger happy, and as the story begins, he has never killed a Dev in the execution of his duties – which makes him unique.
Floyd hates his job, and sees the hypocrisy in the system he works for, and this eats away at him. To deal with it, he drinks, smokes and takes pills – all ceaselessly and immoderately. This kind of lifestyle leads to a blurred state of mind, part dream, part reality – but all, a living hell. Nearly all of his relationships end up bad, with both his love interest, a woman named ‘Laurel’ Canyon, being relocated (which is a polite way of saying she has been institutionalized as a suspected ‘Dev’), and a friend, a professional cricketer, taken away by the ‘Cricket Police’, for missing a training session.
The world, or all that is left of it – which is Melbourne – is essentially a police state, and the only thing that stops Floyd from being carted away, is that he is one of the policiers – and even then he appears to be walking a tightrope.
If you're a fan of the series Department S (and why wouldn’t you be?), the chapter entitled ‘jack your kitsch up’ will delight you no end. Our hero, Floyd and his partner Hank, are preparing to go into Richmond area – which is now a no-go zone – to track down five heavily armed Devs. Along for the ride area television crew, to film the incursion. The television network covering this incursion is ITC. The reporter on the scene is a man named Montgomery Berman, the camera operator is Stew Sullivan and their assistant is a young girl called Anabelle. For those who don’t remember, Monty Berman was one of the creators of Department S (he was also a co-producer of The Saint, with Roger Moore). And in the series Department S, Stewart Sullivan was the name of the character played by Joel Fabiani, and Anabelle Hurst was played by Rosemary Nicols. You’re forgiven for not remembering Sullivan or Rosemary, as they were overshadowed by Peter Wyngarde as the flamboyant Jason King.
This operation opens up a new world for Floyd. Once the footage of the operation is shown on TV, he becomes a minor celebrity, and he is promoted to being what is called an ‘Observer’. An Observer watches operations from the wings, with news crews gathered around – and Floyd is expected to comment on the operations for the news services.
The villain of the piece is the head honcho for an evil big business conglomerate named Hylax – think ‘Big Brother’. His name is Wolram E. Deaps, which is an anagram of Marlowe Spade. Philip Marlowe being the battered hero in many of Raymond Chandler’s hard boiled mysteries, and Sam Spade being the hero of Dashiell Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon. Of course, both Marlowe and Spade were played by Humphrey Bogart in celebrated movies made in the 1940s.
As I suggested earlier, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is a retro pop culturist’s dream – and while that delighted me no end, and if you’ll forgive the self indulgence (and ego trip), I probably have watched and read more of the in-joke material referenced in the story than the majority of readers (and I am sure I missed some of the references). And therefore I would assume many other readers may find these references fly over their head, or at worst seem to be padding, or down right confusing. There is a glossary at the back, which outlines the many sources, but if you are not familiar with the source material to begin with, knowing its title, isn’t much good.
Some of you are probably wondering about the title itself, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat? It’s a line lifted from the movie That Certain Feeling, starring Bob Hope, Eva Marie Saint, and George Sanders. In the film, Sanders refers to a dog as a ‘Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat’. Said goat can be seen on the poster on the right.
So with that, I will leave it for you to decide. If you’re knowledgeable about George Sanders, Chandler, Bogart, Siamese Vodka, Hitchcock and more, then this may be the book you’re looking for. If not, you may find it confusing, and full of pointless chatter. I hope that makes sense?
Or you can order it online from Another Sky Press for $4.74 + P&H. Note, Another Sky has a great philosophy – providing a trade paperback at the cost price of production, but encouraging readers to “donate” more if they believe the artist behind the book deserves it.
DAVID FOSTER, 6 March 2012
Me, My Shelf & I
My first thought of this book was I’m sure the same as yours… Weird title?
Don’t fret, it’s all explained in the book and it’s a line from an old movie that isn’t even giving reference to goats in fact. The book's not about goats, although there is one in there. I wouldn't say he has a big role or anything, though – more of a walk-on, if you will.
The beginning of this book threw me a bit, I don’t know a lot of about movies from the '30s and '40s and they are referenced quite a bit. Never fear, there is a glossary in the back of each book should you want to check things out - though you don’t need to know who, say, George Sanders is to enjoy the book. My lack of film knowledge didn’t deter me in the slightest. Though… there was kind of an information offloading in the beginning and I’m not a huge fan of that, per se.
Once past it I was hooked. Floyd, our narrator who, in his own words is a “somewhat pathetic, self-pitting alcoholic”, is also a snarky man after my own heart, who has an ever-ready arsenal of one liners. Most of which I intend to store away for use myself might I add! The witty British humor kept me laughing throughout. (Yes, I know he’s Australian… but I correlate the phrases with British as my husband is, and a lot are the same - so sue me.)
Inside this movie-referenced story of a man down on his luck also comes a heart-wrenching love story with more twists and turns then a roller coaster. And it’s all set in a forever rainy, remarkably built dystopian/futuristic society.
*cue flashback music* Imagine the world has fallen, all but Melbourne Australia, that is. This is where any survivors from all over the world have fled to, to try to survive. There are still a few million people left, and to control the population once someone is terminally ill, old, or handicapped in any way, they are labeled “Deviants” – outcasts. Criminals.
Can you imagine? You’ve got a bum leg so you are no longer play a functional role in society, so you hide or you die. Or They send you away to be “hospitalized” and basically ignored until you die naturally, or otherwise. I promise you the story with in these pages is truly amazing!
Bergen is a wordsmith, there is no doubt about that. His writing style kept me interested and entertained to no end. My review will not do this book justice, I should have let him write it himself – it would have been far more eloquently stated that is for sure! (Luckily we have a guest post from him coming up... where we can all bask in the wonderment that is his word-smithery.)
Wrapping up – I suggest this to my more mature readers. 16+ for language and some content. I really enjoyed and really can’t wait for more, should there be any (ahem... hint hint!) and while this may not jump off the page and grab you based on title or cover, I implore you to reconsider. I've never steered you wrong before, have I? I back this book so much I’m going to buy a copy straight away for my step dad, at least! 4 Birds, well done mate! Well done!<--- Needed to get in some "Aussie Talk" before the review was out.
AMBER, 22 May 2011
Don’t fret, it’s all explained in the book and it’s a line from an old movie that isn’t even giving reference to goats in fact. The book's not about goats, although there is one in there. I wouldn't say he has a big role or anything, though – more of a walk-on, if you will.
The beginning of this book threw me a bit, I don’t know a lot of about movies from the '30s and '40s and they are referenced quite a bit. Never fear, there is a glossary in the back of each book should you want to check things out - though you don’t need to know who, say, George Sanders is to enjoy the book. My lack of film knowledge didn’t deter me in the slightest. Though… there was kind of an information offloading in the beginning and I’m not a huge fan of that, per se.
Once past it I was hooked. Floyd, our narrator who, in his own words is a “somewhat pathetic, self-pitting alcoholic”, is also a snarky man after my own heart, who has an ever-ready arsenal of one liners. Most of which I intend to store away for use myself might I add! The witty British humor kept me laughing throughout. (Yes, I know he’s Australian… but I correlate the phrases with British as my husband is, and a lot are the same - so sue me.)
Inside this movie-referenced story of a man down on his luck also comes a heart-wrenching love story with more twists and turns then a roller coaster. And it’s all set in a forever rainy, remarkably built dystopian/futuristic society.
*cue flashback music* Imagine the world has fallen, all but Melbourne Australia, that is. This is where any survivors from all over the world have fled to, to try to survive. There are still a few million people left, and to control the population once someone is terminally ill, old, or handicapped in any way, they are labeled “Deviants” – outcasts. Criminals.
Can you imagine? You’ve got a bum leg so you are no longer play a functional role in society, so you hide or you die. Or They send you away to be “hospitalized” and basically ignored until you die naturally, or otherwise. I promise you the story with in these pages is truly amazing!
Bergen is a wordsmith, there is no doubt about that. His writing style kept me interested and entertained to no end. My review will not do this book justice, I should have let him write it himself – it would have been far more eloquently stated that is for sure! (Luckily we have a guest post from him coming up... where we can all bask in the wonderment that is his word-smithery.)
Wrapping up – I suggest this to my more mature readers. 16+ for language and some content. I really enjoyed and really can’t wait for more, should there be any (ahem... hint hint!) and while this may not jump off the page and grab you based on title or cover, I implore you to reconsider. I've never steered you wrong before, have I? I back this book so much I’m going to buy a copy straight away for my step dad, at least! 4 Birds, well done mate! Well done!<--- Needed to get in some "Aussie Talk" before the review was out.
AMBER, 22 May 2011
Gordon Highland, writer & director
This is a really entertaining noir tale set in a near-future Melbourne: our only city left, post-apocalypse. Blade Runner meets The Third Man is an apt description.
Floyd, our hero, is a "seeker" who hunts down deviants and loves referencing old films (which receive their own appendix) — this is a very clever thing, setting a nostalgic character in the future, making his references more relatable to the reader. He's burnt out on the job, alcoholic, and feels trapped because of his wife's "medical" bills (she was tagged as a deviant). He becomes a reluctant media darling, and tries to get at the heart of the political corruption in his city.
I loved the book's blend of Japanese and Australian culture. The setting is grounded in realism and doesn't get too hung up on technology, more just like extrapolations of our current lives and social stratification. Cosmetic enhancements, advertising ubiquity, gentrification, high-end shopping communities, etc. There's lots of Aussie and gumshoe slang, assisted by a glossary, which you may well not need, so natural is it.
The writing is very fluid, though it may seem a bit dense at first until you get your head wrapped around what all's going on. Much of the book is dialogue, and I found some of it too direct in spots. Though this is also true of a lot of classic noir as well.
This is the July 2011 selection in the ChuckPalahniuk.net book club, and you'll find more discussion there.
GORDON HIGHLAND, 11 July 2011
Floyd, our hero, is a "seeker" who hunts down deviants and loves referencing old films (which receive their own appendix) — this is a very clever thing, setting a nostalgic character in the future, making his references more relatable to the reader. He's burnt out on the job, alcoholic, and feels trapped because of his wife's "medical" bills (she was tagged as a deviant). He becomes a reluctant media darling, and tries to get at the heart of the political corruption in his city.
I loved the book's blend of Japanese and Australian culture. The setting is grounded in realism and doesn't get too hung up on technology, more just like extrapolations of our current lives and social stratification. Cosmetic enhancements, advertising ubiquity, gentrification, high-end shopping communities, etc. There's lots of Aussie and gumshoe slang, assisted by a glossary, which you may well not need, so natural is it.
The writing is very fluid, though it may seem a bit dense at first until you get your head wrapped around what all's going on. Much of the book is dialogue, and I found some of it too direct in spots. Though this is also true of a lot of classic noir as well.
This is the July 2011 selection in the ChuckPalahniuk.net book club, and you'll find more discussion there.
GORDON HIGHLAND, 11 July 2011
Colin Harvey, author
Cut to Melbourne, Australia–the most glamorous city in the world.It also happens to be the only one left standing… meet your narrator, a certainFloyd Maquina, a likable chap with one hell of a story to share. Cue guns, intrigue, kidnappings, conspiracy and all sorts of general mayhem that make for cracking good headlines. Does Floyd stop the bad guys? Does he get the girl? Does he make Humphrey Bogart proud? Grab some popcorn and read on.
Notice the instruction to grab some popcorn. Andrez Bergen’s debut novel is a book drenched in film imagery. From the title, which is taken from the 1956 film That Certain Feeling, in which villain George Sanders utters “Get that tobacco-stained mountain goat out of here,” through a multitude of references, to George Lucas, Marlon Brando, anime and Doctor Who, the reader is left in no doubt what floats Bergen’s boat. Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is either reassuringly familiar or cliched, depending on one’s perspective.
Sometime in the future the world is drowning in acid rain and near-perpetual darkness. The Seekers are a sort of militia holding back a rising tide of Deviants. Anyone who commits a crime is labelled a Deviant; anyone who falls ill is relocated, and classified in the same way. Floyd’s wife has lived fro three years with cancer, and the only way he can pay for her care is to work as a Seeker.
There’s not a lot of Novum in the world of Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat - indeed, the background doesn’t bear close examination; ”Where the heck do they get the grapes to make this? Or the sunlight to grow the grapes?” (p.131) Sadly, no one has the time or inclination to answer the question.
But on the plus side, Floyd Maquina has a distinctive voice, and a likeable character, and i’m a sucker for both. New publisher Oregon-based Another Sky Press have put together an impressive-looking package, and I hope that this quirky novel brings them every success.
COLIN HARVEY, 22 July 2011
Notice the instruction to grab some popcorn. Andrez Bergen’s debut novel is a book drenched in film imagery. From the title, which is taken from the 1956 film That Certain Feeling, in which villain George Sanders utters “Get that tobacco-stained mountain goat out of here,” through a multitude of references, to George Lucas, Marlon Brando, anime and Doctor Who, the reader is left in no doubt what floats Bergen’s boat. Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is either reassuringly familiar or cliched, depending on one’s perspective.
Sometime in the future the world is drowning in acid rain and near-perpetual darkness. The Seekers are a sort of militia holding back a rising tide of Deviants. Anyone who commits a crime is labelled a Deviant; anyone who falls ill is relocated, and classified in the same way. Floyd’s wife has lived fro three years with cancer, and the only way he can pay for her care is to work as a Seeker.
There’s not a lot of Novum in the world of Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat - indeed, the background doesn’t bear close examination; ”Where the heck do they get the grapes to make this? Or the sunlight to grow the grapes?” (p.131) Sadly, no one has the time or inclination to answer the question.
But on the plus side, Floyd Maquina has a distinctive voice, and a likeable character, and i’m a sucker for both. New publisher Oregon-based Another Sky Press have put together an impressive-looking package, and I hope that this quirky novel brings them every success.
COLIN HARVEY, 22 July 2011
Comic Attack
When it’s done right, cyberpunk is easily one of my favorite genres. It can be sleek, sexy, and downright cool. Neuromancer (William Gibson) is one of my favorite novels. And if we want to talk about comic books, then Spider-Man 2099 (the original run) is one of my favorite Marvel runs.
However, when it’s not done right, cyberpunk ranges from laughably bad to horrendously awful. If you don’t believe me, just pick up one of those corny cyber story arcs Marvel and DC put out in the 90s.
So when I received Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, I wasn’t sure how a cyberpunk novel with such a bizarre title would turn out. Early in the novel, though, I did figure out one thing. This would be different from any cyberpunk novel I’ve read.
For starters, this isn’t in your usual cyberpunk setting such as Japan, Los Angeles, or even Britain. Rather, it takes place in Melbourne, Australia. And not just any kind of cyberpunk future, but an apocalyptic future as well. Making it not just a cyberpunk novel, but a cyberpunk, Mad Max, and Philip K. Dick kind of novel.
But the differences go far beyond the setting and aesthetics. The main thing here, is that TSMG doesn’t take itself seriously. Quite the opposite. Floyd Maquina has a more humorous (whether knowingly or unknowingly) approach to his narration. Even his actions are humorous. He’s very skilled and yet incompetent much of the time.
Along with the humor, there are lots of allusions. Lots of allusion, which can be a double edged sword. On one hand, it’s nice to have familiarities and to be able to shout “A-ha! I know what you’re alluding to.” Not to mention that Bergen isn’t afraid to give nods to different influences of his. On the other hand, though, the allusions can be a bit too much. Yes, we get it, Floyd thinks of himself as a Humphrey Bogart. And don’t worry, if you didn’t know he likes Humphrey Bogart and the classic noir films, you will by the end of TSMG. Because it uses those references over and over again.
In fact, much of the novel is a double edged sword. It’s one of those books where the strengths are equally its weaknesses. Although the narration’s humor and tongue in cheek approach can be a welcome, it can also be an annoyance from time to time.
With that being said, on a whole, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is a fun and refreshing read. It’s a novel that’s both an homage and one of a kind, that mixes cyberpunk, Philip K. Dick elements, action, and humor. All in an offbeat way.
ANDREW HUDSON, 8 March 2012
However, when it’s not done right, cyberpunk ranges from laughably bad to horrendously awful. If you don’t believe me, just pick up one of those corny cyber story arcs Marvel and DC put out in the 90s.
So when I received Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, I wasn’t sure how a cyberpunk novel with such a bizarre title would turn out. Early in the novel, though, I did figure out one thing. This would be different from any cyberpunk novel I’ve read.
For starters, this isn’t in your usual cyberpunk setting such as Japan, Los Angeles, or even Britain. Rather, it takes place in Melbourne, Australia. And not just any kind of cyberpunk future, but an apocalyptic future as well. Making it not just a cyberpunk novel, but a cyberpunk, Mad Max, and Philip K. Dick kind of novel.
But the differences go far beyond the setting and aesthetics. The main thing here, is that TSMG doesn’t take itself seriously. Quite the opposite. Floyd Maquina has a more humorous (whether knowingly or unknowingly) approach to his narration. Even his actions are humorous. He’s very skilled and yet incompetent much of the time.
Along with the humor, there are lots of allusions. Lots of allusion, which can be a double edged sword. On one hand, it’s nice to have familiarities and to be able to shout “A-ha! I know what you’re alluding to.” Not to mention that Bergen isn’t afraid to give nods to different influences of his. On the other hand, though, the allusions can be a bit too much. Yes, we get it, Floyd thinks of himself as a Humphrey Bogart. And don’t worry, if you didn’t know he likes Humphrey Bogart and the classic noir films, you will by the end of TSMG. Because it uses those references over and over again.
In fact, much of the novel is a double edged sword. It’s one of those books where the strengths are equally its weaknesses. Although the narration’s humor and tongue in cheek approach can be a welcome, it can also be an annoyance from time to time.
With that being said, on a whole, Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat is a fun and refreshing read. It’s a novel that’s both an homage and one of a kind, that mixes cyberpunk, Philip K. Dick elements, action, and humor. All in an offbeat way.
ANDREW HUDSON, 8 March 2012
decomP MagazinE
_So Floyd Maquina is a movie buff, and his life reads like a rough-cut collage of plenty of them—spades, you
might say, as a subtle nod to one of his templates/heroes. Though there isn’t much subtle in the citation
of classic flicks that peppers this future shock noir tale like automatic gunfire. Rather, we’re bombarded
with film titles, character names, actors and assorted references. Bands get shout-outs, songs, dancers, all as
part of Floyd’s intentionally tough-sounding reflections on the world in which he lives, a
post-“Catastrophe” Melbourne where the divide between haves and have-nots is sharper than ever and
corporate-fascist police act as the iron hand of the corporate-fascist state. Floyd—a la Blade
Runner, not that there’s any chance you could miss the connection—is employed as a kind of cop
himself, a Seeker, charged with tracking down Deviants, as defined by a relatively recent bit of legislation
pushed through by—you guessed it—a corporate-fascist conglomeration headed by a villain whose lair
reminds our hero of “bachelor pads from 1950s movies with Rock Hudson and Tony Randall.”
First as cinema, Marx could have written, second as farce. This is what Bergen gives us, a speedy little entertainment, chock-a-block with winks and nods, that is both tribute and parody, like an episode of The Simpsons that “remakes” scenes from The Third Man. This isn’t the smooth, self-serious-yet-seductive style of Brick, not the updated, rumpled bafflement of “Elliott Gould’s Philip Marlowe” (likewise mentioned in these pages), nor is it an examination of such films as iconic as in Goddard’s (who is also name-dropped) À bout de souffle. Rather, we have a character with a “plagiaristic mind” existing in a dystopic sci-fi formula—a “xenophobic, rotting hulk of a city . . . divided into a dozen culturally cut-up and socioeconomically distinct districts, you know, each occupied by swarms of police and trigger-thrilled security types, and separated from one another with blockades and fences, along with a shocking case of paranoia.” Give him a job straight out of a film, let him consciously craft dialogue for himself based on film lines, and let him offer commentary on his situation in terms of films. Other things happen, of course—there’s an attempted coup, a bizarre “Test” wherein Floyd is made to feel as though he killed his wife—but the bulk of the book is reference. He enters a room and the dé reminds him of “George Lucas’ THX 1138.” He slinks “back into the shadows of the doorway, still feeling like a faux Harry Lime.” He “felt like Max von Sydow’s knight in Bergman’s The Seventh Seal—dabbling in a game of chess with Death....” “It was all a bit surreal and trippy, like that merry-go-round scene in Terry Gilliam’s take on Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” or “Visions of Nineteen Eighty-Four and Terry Gilliam’s Brazil rattled in my head,” or something about Humphrey Bogart or something about Basil Rathbone, something about George Sanders or something about Doctor Who. Meanwhile there is a “plasti-sky” above the posh shopping zone where the wealthy live, “Cricketing Police” rigging that game, and—as if straight from William Gibson, one name notably absent in this book—the poor are huddled together in overcrowded and decaying ghettos under “the constant drizzle, the acrid smells, the wretched crimson sky.” Those who can go synthetic, while basic items like milk and eggs become unknown to the vast majority. It’s all something we’ve seen before on late-night TV, only Bergen clearly enjoys rollicking through it, tossing asides to all sides, splicing in scenes from this and that.
There is an insomniacal feel to this novel, and while so much is so predictable—so already known—it nonetheless, like some of the campier sources it salutes, is compelling enough to keep you up late on the couch, watching until the final scene. George Sanders freezing bank tellers in an episode of Batman doesn’t pack much surprise, either, nor much emotional realism, but if there were a marathon of that show on tonight, I might well find myself watching it in the odd, long hours before dawn. That’s the feel Bergen taps here; not noir but camp, not suspense but romping, less The Third Man and more Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery.
SPENCER DEW, January 2012
First as cinema, Marx could have written, second as farce. This is what Bergen gives us, a speedy little entertainment, chock-a-block with winks and nods, that is both tribute and parody, like an episode of The Simpsons that “remakes” scenes from The Third Man. This isn’t the smooth, self-serious-yet-seductive style of Brick, not the updated, rumpled bafflement of “Elliott Gould’s Philip Marlowe” (likewise mentioned in these pages), nor is it an examination of such films as iconic as in Goddard’s (who is also name-dropped) À bout de souffle. Rather, we have a character with a “plagiaristic mind” existing in a dystopic sci-fi formula—a “xenophobic, rotting hulk of a city . . . divided into a dozen culturally cut-up and socioeconomically distinct districts, you know, each occupied by swarms of police and trigger-thrilled security types, and separated from one another with blockades and fences, along with a shocking case of paranoia.” Give him a job straight out of a film, let him consciously craft dialogue for himself based on film lines, and let him offer commentary on his situation in terms of films. Other things happen, of course—there’s an attempted coup, a bizarre “Test” wherein Floyd is made to feel as though he killed his wife—but the bulk of the book is reference. He enters a room and the dé reminds him of “George Lucas’ THX 1138.” He slinks “back into the shadows of the doorway, still feeling like a faux Harry Lime.” He “felt like Max von Sydow’s knight in Bergman’s The Seventh Seal—dabbling in a game of chess with Death....” “It was all a bit surreal and trippy, like that merry-go-round scene in Terry Gilliam’s take on Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” or “Visions of Nineteen Eighty-Four and Terry Gilliam’s Brazil rattled in my head,” or something about Humphrey Bogart or something about Basil Rathbone, something about George Sanders or something about Doctor Who. Meanwhile there is a “plasti-sky” above the posh shopping zone where the wealthy live, “Cricketing Police” rigging that game, and—as if straight from William Gibson, one name notably absent in this book—the poor are huddled together in overcrowded and decaying ghettos under “the constant drizzle, the acrid smells, the wretched crimson sky.” Those who can go synthetic, while basic items like milk and eggs become unknown to the vast majority. It’s all something we’ve seen before on late-night TV, only Bergen clearly enjoys rollicking through it, tossing asides to all sides, splicing in scenes from this and that.
There is an insomniacal feel to this novel, and while so much is so predictable—so already known—it nonetheless, like some of the campier sources it salutes, is compelling enough to keep you up late on the couch, watching until the final scene. George Sanders freezing bank tellers in an episode of Batman doesn’t pack much surprise, either, nor much emotional realism, but if there were a marathon of that show on tonight, I might well find myself watching it in the odd, long hours before dawn. That’s the feel Bergen taps here; not noir but camp, not suspense but romping, less The Third Man and more Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery.
SPENCER DEW, January 2012
Dark Matter magazine
The first thing I noticed when I began to read Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat was how unlike it was to anything else I’d read. Ever. The author’s ‘voice’ asserts itself quickly, and in fact most aggressively in the very first chapter; after that it lightens up a bit and the voice plays second fiddle to the story – but what a story. On the face of things a hardboiled tale that involves guns, girls, intrigue and a fascinating plot-twist, beneath it is a structure of reverence that pays homage to classic cinema and television, with a multitude of references, innuendoes and red herrings that pop up from movies like The Thin Man, The Maltese Falcon, Top Hat and Singin’ in the Rain – sublimely interspersed with science fiction gems Blade Runner, Rollerball and Brazil.
There’s a glossary at the back of the book to fill in the dots in case you’re not such a film buff (like me), but in all honestly I didn’t need it till the very end, so assuredly has Andrez Bergen weaved the tidbits into the tapestry.
This is the story of Floyd Maquina, a man with a horrible job he wishes he didn’t have, forced to do it to pay for his wife’s medical bills. In this occupation he hunts down Deviants: people who differ from the social norm in sickness, anti-social behaviour, or political beliefs. Yes, this is the future, sometime soon, and it sounds all too familiar in the current climate.
It’s also set in Melbourne, Australia – cast here as the last city in the world. This is an interesting premise as Melbourne figured in the same role in Nevil Shute’s On the Beach and will do so again shortly in Kim Westwood’s upcoming novel The Courier’s New Bicycle. In Bergen’s case, being an expatriate who’s lived in Japan for close to a decade, he’s infused the city with the feel of an overflowing metropolis like Tokyo or Osaka, and it feels real.
Contrasting this is a witty, occasionally way-out surrealist touch that undercuts proceedings, tempers the heavier moments, and reminds me of Joseph Heller in Catch-22. Not quite noir, a little bit sci-fi, moments of action, romance, drama, comedy and sentimentality… Bergen criss-crosses styles and genres in the most natural of ways.
It’s no real surprise then that I loved this novel on so many levels and cannot recommend it highly enough.
JANE FEELY, 27 September 2011
There’s a glossary at the back of the book to fill in the dots in case you’re not such a film buff (like me), but in all honestly I didn’t need it till the very end, so assuredly has Andrez Bergen weaved the tidbits into the tapestry.
This is the story of Floyd Maquina, a man with a horrible job he wishes he didn’t have, forced to do it to pay for his wife’s medical bills. In this occupation he hunts down Deviants: people who differ from the social norm in sickness, anti-social behaviour, or political beliefs. Yes, this is the future, sometime soon, and it sounds all too familiar in the current climate.
It’s also set in Melbourne, Australia – cast here as the last city in the world. This is an interesting premise as Melbourne figured in the same role in Nevil Shute’s On the Beach and will do so again shortly in Kim Westwood’s upcoming novel The Courier’s New Bicycle. In Bergen’s case, being an expatriate who’s lived in Japan for close to a decade, he’s infused the city with the feel of an overflowing metropolis like Tokyo or Osaka, and it feels real.
Contrasting this is a witty, occasionally way-out surrealist touch that undercuts proceedings, tempers the heavier moments, and reminds me of Joseph Heller in Catch-22. Not quite noir, a little bit sci-fi, moments of action, romance, drama, comedy and sentimentality… Bergen criss-crosses styles and genres in the most natural of ways.
It’s no real surprise then that I loved this novel on so many levels and cannot recommend it highly enough.
JANE FEELY, 27 September 2011
M L Sawyer, writer & reviewer
Tobacco Stained Mountain Goat by Andrez Bergen is, for me, the most unique story I have read for some time. Not because of the post-apocalyptic theme, but because of the style of writing.
For me, I’m a fan of movies like Tank Girl (classic) and Sin City. To enjoy this novel, you need to not only have a sense of humour, but you need to appreciate movies in order to get many of the references used. This is not a bad thing as it is what keeps the story unique. (If you don’t get all the references, there is also an easy read set of references and slang dictionary included.)
Anyway, you’re in Melbourne, the last city in the world, and your main character is Floyd who, though lack of choice, is employed as a Seeker – someone who picks up deviants when told so that they can be ‘relocated… never to be seen again. As you go through the story, Floyd slowly begins to realise that he has known what he is doing is wrong for some time, that there is something wrong with the whole system, and that somehow he might actually be able to do something about it… It takes some time to be able to piece together the whole story of what’s going on, but once I did, I really became involved in the story, and from there all I can say is that I was very, very satisfied with the end.
Well done for being different, Andrez.
M L SAWYER, 22 May 2011
For me, I’m a fan of movies like Tank Girl (classic) and Sin City. To enjoy this novel, you need to not only have a sense of humour, but you need to appreciate movies in order to get many of the references used. This is not a bad thing as it is what keeps the story unique. (If you don’t get all the references, there is also an easy read set of references and slang dictionary included.)
Anyway, you’re in Melbourne, the last city in the world, and your main character is Floyd who, though lack of choice, is employed as a Seeker – someone who picks up deviants when told so that they can be ‘relocated… never to be seen again. As you go through the story, Floyd slowly begins to realise that he has known what he is doing is wrong for some time, that there is something wrong with the whole system, and that somehow he might actually be able to do something about it… It takes some time to be able to piece together the whole story of what’s going on, but once I did, I really became involved in the story, and from there all I can say is that I was very, very satisfied with the end.
Well done for being different, Andrez.
M L SAWYER, 22 May 2011