Eleven Twenty-Three (2010) Written by Jason S. Hornsby

"Layne Prescott, a former high school teacher returning to America after months of living abroad, meets a strange man in a Shanghai airport and ends up carrying a mysterious briefcase with an attached wrist shackle home with him. Back in the small town of Lilly's End, Layne must cope with more than just the effects of his past indiscretions and his recently deceased father's funeral. Each day at precisely 11:23, the small town of Lilly's End sinks into violent chaos, and people are dying. Cut off from the rest of the world by a strict military quarantine and with the population in rapid decline, Layne and his friends wait with dread as the clock ticks downward."[1]

When Permuted Press sent me this book, I was stoked; I've loved everything I've read from this fine company--except for one book I found to be completely unreadable and it shall remain nameless. Reading this book, unfortunately, was like pulling teeth. When I'm into a book I can roll through two or three hundred pages a night, easy. This book took me over three weeks to read. It's only 298 pages. You do the math.

My main problem with the book was the characters, who with the exception of the pedophile hero's marginally annoying girlfriend (I may have liked her only because I imagined her looking like Christina Hendricks), I found completely and totally unlikable. Honestly, with the exception of the high school intellectuals sitting outside my local coffee shop I've never seen a more pretentious group of name-dropping, hipster, elitists gathered in one place. In the chapter that details a welcome back party for the returning couple, the author manages to squeeze in details describing not only the characters' feelings of rich kid entitlement, their (dis)interest in trendy political causes, their excessive casual drug use, and their acceptance of every conspiracy theory under the sun. He makes sure to point out that they listen to music most of us have never heard of, and that they watch obscure anime but have it on mute because, even though they watch it, they only watch to make sure you know they watch it. When he dresses all this post-modern boo-hooing in designer clothing and sticks a clove cigarette in its mouth, it almost seems like the author created his characters just for us to hate. He even goes so far as to point out that they only preach about their pet political/social causes because they want people to think they believe in them, not because they actually do.

My other problem with this book is that it's a perfect example of everything I hate about modern fiction--the lack of accountability for one's actions, a lack of desire (perhaps a lack of courage?) to change one's path, and the general attitude that everything and everyone is doomed to fail. The reviews printed on the cover and throughout the book throw around the word "paranoid" a lot. I disagree with this analysis. I found the book to be more negative and depressing than paranoid. The characters are shitty people. They have no problem screwing each other over and cheating on their mates. The friendships they share are superficial at best and all their interactions are dripping with sarcasm and a feeling of smug superiority. Everyone sneers their way through life and they all seem to accept what comes their way with a kind of fatalism that would make Oedipus proud.

Lastly, and I hate to say this because I'm starting to feel like I'm attacking the writer, I found Hornsby's writing style to be very distracting. It kind of meandered all over the place. It was in the present, it was in the past, it was in a vision, it was in the future. I swear every other chapter was either a flashback or a dream/hallucination. I found myself screaming, "Get on with it, Goddamnit!" more than once. Literally screaming. Of course, I also found myself yelling, "Go somewhere!" after reading the first 75 pages and having nothing happen, except for me developing a huge disdain for everyone in the book. It was like reading a really depressing and self-absorbed Stephen King story, except at least Hornsby can end his tale, albeit without the two main characters getting their much deserved comeuppance.

In summation:

Did I hate this book? Absolutely. Of course, this was compounded by the fact that I had to read it for the review so it took on a forced, high school homework feel. But, in high school I could have read the Cliff notes, in this case I felt compelled to read the book all the way through.

Would I read another book by this author? Nope. Maybe if he got a puppy or experienced some other life changing experience, then maybe. Maybe.

Would I tell someone else not to checkout his books? No. This might sound at odds with everything I've written, but I look at it this way: Fourteen billion retards around the world loved Twilight, whereas I thought it sucked shit. Now, if I wrote a review of it, and based on that review, all fourteen million of those retards skipped it, that would be fourteen million retards who would've missed out on their favorite movie. With fourteen million people's opinions differing from mine, who's to say who's really the retard.

So, yes, I hated this book. Everyday from the day I started it to the day I finished it, I'd look at it and say, "Goddamn, I hate this fucking book." I literally had to force myself to read it. Would I say Jason Hornsby's a bad writer? No, his style just doesn't suit my tastes. If a bitter and depressing, conspiracy-filled bit of horror sounds like your thing, than I encourage you to check this out. An affinity for black clothing would probably help.

[Added the next day]

PS. Upon re-reading my review I realized how very negative it is and I kind of feel bad. I stand by everything I said, but still, I feel bad. Writing is a creative and very personal process, something that Mr. Hornsby obviously pours his heart into. Rather than simply take my word for it, I encourage readers to follow this link [CLICK CLICK] and read the first six pages of Eleven Twenty-Three to judge for themselves.

[1] I took this synopsis straight from the website as mine was too angry.