Edward P. Hughes

When reading, it is important to approach the work anticipating a certain mood. That is to say, if you watch Shaun of the Dead expecting a horror flick, you will be disappointed by its scare-factor. Masters of the Fist by Edward P. Hughes is an 80's science fiction novel that should be read much like you would watch Demolition Man today - without taking things too seriously.

I ran across a 1985 (or so) short about Barley Cross in a coverless edition from the Jerry Pournelle There Will Be War series, and enjoyed it enough to seek out the full 1989 novel. Set in post WWIII Ireland, Masters of the Fist is a fun read about the last remaining fertile man on the planet. The story moves along at a pace that will keep you interested, but not captivated. This novel is a good break from doing worthwhile things and will supply you with your daily dose of the creeps via the Lord of Barley Cross' incestuous efforts to repopulate the world. Here at Barley Cross, you'll find about 600 people with the same dad, a plane that blows itself up, plenty of poteen, a tank, a female bishop that isn't so priestly, and a girl with knock knees, among other interesting(?) things. My guess is you'll enjoy it. Unless you've got something better to do.… (altro)

"The Long Mynd" takes the idea that magicians can make something out of nothing one step further. The story looks at a world in which a few people can make any physical item they can see clearly in their minds become real. Far from becoming paradise, the modern world collapses as no place becomes safe from atomic bombing. This story picks up with the second generation of "charmers" and follows one young Welshman as he seeks to find a place to live safely.

The story is complete, but it begs to have a sequel since Dafydd fails to find a haven by the end of the book.… (altro)

http://nhw.livejournal.com/1054965.html

A rather dismal Baen collection of short stories about a village in post-Holocaust Ireland where the head honcho is the only fertile man left in the world, and has to grapple with the awful responsibilities of impregnating the local women. Oirish and sexist clichés abound. Amusingly, the head honcho's unofficial partner's name is Celia Larkin (and these stories were written in the 1980s, so I suppose it is coincidence).… (altro)