Nick Krauser Daygame Products

October 14, 2018
krauserpua

This page explains the products I have for sale relating to daygame and seduction. Hopefully it’ll help you decide which is appropriate for your position and needs. First, at the high level, there are THREE categories:

 

Pick-up Textbooks – These explain how to do daygame, with many many examples of what you say and do at each stage of the seduction.
Pick-up Videos – These too explain daygame in detail and you are buying a login to my teaching platform.
Pick-up Memoirs – This series of books tells my story, taking you on the journey of how I learnt game. They are full of field reports, lay reports, and analysis of a player’s life. They are highly instructional.

Sigma Wolf Products

 

PICK UP TEXTBOOKS

Daygame Mastery – The core textbook of how to pick-up girls from the street, cafes, and any other daytime situation you can conceive. It’s a massive 524 pages in full colour and walks you through the daygame model from beginning to end. So it begins with the inner game, to get your mind straight and to battle approach anxiety. Then I explain choosing targets and how to stop girls. It’s extremely detailed on the body language, behaviour, and what to say. Then there is extensive text game advice and the full date model. This book is my bestseller and since its release four years ago it has transformed the daygame community. Start here.

I recommend the new second edition. It’s full colour, containes 20% addition content over the first edition, and looks nicer. See the video above for a hands-on look. The second edition is available in the big A4 hardback suitable for pride of place on your bookshelf, and also as a small (6″x4″) full colour Pocket paperback suitable for travel, with a subtle cover so no-one knows what you’re reading. The content is identical.

Daygame Infinite – This companion textbook to Daygame Mastery pushes into advanced territory. Like Mastery it is full colour and a massive 575 pages full of illustrations, demonstration photos, and detailed reproductions of real-life text chats with girls. Daygame Infinite focuses on improving your vibe and calibration. It is packed with advice to clear your mind and present yourself as a cool, well-balanced man. There is a massive dating section using transcripts of real-life dates with hot girls, explaining why I’m doing what I’m doing.

Currently in its first edition, it too is available in A4 hardback and the smaller Pocket Edition here. It’s best to consider Mastery and Infinite as volumes 1 and 2 of the same comprehensive work.

Daygame Nitro – This old classic was the first textbook on the London Daygame Model. It is recommended for readers new to daygame, perhaps having only done a hundred sets, or for those used to ‘indirect game’ wishing to transition to the more ballsy and effective ‘direct’ style. Nitro is much simpler and easier to practice that Mastery and Infinite, though it’s the same model. Consider this the introductory book.

Now in it’s second edition, Nitro is an A4 hardback with B/W interior available here.

 

 

PICK UP VIDEOS

Daygame Overkill – This is the core video instructional. It comes in two parts. First is a theoretical seminar explaining the difference between traditional pick-up and the faster, more dynamic ‘bad boy’ pickup. The second part is the demonstration. There are ten infield videos of me picking up girls. The real sauce is in the analysis. Unlike other ‘highlight reel’ infield products, Daygame Overkill goes into extreme detail explaining exactly what is happening, both in my technique and the girl’s response to it. All videos are subtitled so you don’t miss a word. After watching Daygame Overkill, you’ll know exactly how to ‘read’ a set so you always know how it’s going. READ MORE, AND BUY IT HERE.

Black Book – This is a seminar in which I explain intermediate daygame and dating to a crowd of beginners. It has workshop tasks such as how to create unique openers, how to sit on a date, how to smoothly escalate. There is no infield. It’s pure theory and workshop demonstration. READ MORE, AND BUY IT HERE.

Womanizers Bible – This seminar covers high level mindset, outlining how a successful seducer thinks of the world and his place within it. It peels back the curtain to what is really going on, on a deep level. I don’t cover infield techniques. Womanizers Bible is all about the inner game. READ MORE, AND BUY IT HERE.

 

 

PICK UP MEMOIR

#1 Balls Deep – This is a story – my story – of why I turned to Game and how I began the seemingly impossible task of transforming from a chubby timid office worker into a charismatic seducer of beautiful women. It begins in 2009 with my divorce, aged 34 years old, and chronicles the next two years by which point I’m a decent player. Currently in it’s first edition, available in A5 paperback (B/W interior) here or in full-colour PDF.

#2 A Deplorable Cad – The story continues as I’m living in a ‘pick-up’ mansion in London with a team of seducers. We travel the world, chase skirt, and get into all kinds of trouble. This volume covers the next two years of my journey. The full colour second edition is available in A5 hardbacks and paperback. There is also a B/W first edition available here, but I strongly recommend the second edition. The text is the same, but the second edition is full colour and has a tidier layout.

#3 Younger Hotter Tighter – It’s now 2013 and I’m a full-time skirt-chaser. Follow my adventures as I visit Brazil, Belarus and everywhere in between. This is available only as A5 hardback and paperback, in full colour. Available here in the US, and here outside the USA.

 

#4 Adventure Sex – The memoir series closes with an account of my most successful year as a player – 2014. We have lay-upon-lay, all described in detail so you can reproduce my technique, and much rumination on how it feels to live a player’s life. The second edition is a full-colour A5 hardback or softcover with an updated layout. The first edition is still available here, in B/W, with the same text but the second edition is much nicer.

 

 

The latest versions of all my books is available to readers in the USA by visiting this online bookstore. I recommend it because you have the most choice of format, can save money on postage, and it’s a streamlined order process. Sadly, that site will not ship outside the USA.

Sigma Wolf store

USA-only bookstore

Readers outside the USA should order manually, by sending me a PayPal payment. Go here to understand how that works.

My first editions in B/W are all available on the Lulu bookshop. It’s simple to order, but just bear in mind you are not getting the latest versions and I don’t offer discounts or ‘trade in’ on later editions.

I hope this clarifies things.

Nick

#91 – Death Miser, John Creasey BOOK REVIEW

October 16, 2018
krauserpua

Death Miser

Sometimes you need to think hard and search out AMOG opportunities for your friends. Other times, AMOGs present themselves to you. When reading this 1933 book from John Creasey, the first of 28 in the Department Z series, I was elated to discover the main character is a foppish ne’erdowell called Jimmy. The story opens with him visiting his Aunt Gloria at her country home. She’s fond of him but wishes he wouldn’t waste his life.

Once again Lady Gloria laughed. This utter absurdity of Jimmy’s was infectious; a man who could make a butt for humour of his own habits and discuss his faults with such complete aplomb was surely less of a fool than he looked. Only – Lady Gloria sighed mentally – why did he make himself look such a fool?

You can bet a screencap of that paragraph got sent over WhatsApp. There was something in there to ask Jimmy.

The set up is such that I at first believed this book to be a James Bond imitation and it wasn’t until I noticed some quaint old language that I suspected it pre-dated Ian Fleming. Department Z is a secret government office run by the secretive Mr Gordon Craigie who is exactly like Mac in the Matt Helm books of thirty years later. Jimmy works as agent Number 7 attempting to root out plots against Her Majesty’s Government. His frequent trips take him overseas. To maintain secrecy, Jimmy has a cover identity as a dissolute skirt-chasing toff and it’s that which concerns his elder relatives (who aren’t read into Department Z’s existence).

Telegrams of similar nature had often come to him during the four preceding years, and directly after them he had taken a holiday from England, and spent a week, a month, or even longer in what Colonel Cann [his uncle] described as ‘women, wine and perdition’.

In the book he’s working for the Secret Service but I did need to ask Jimmy if his euro-jaunting wasn’t some kind of cover for espionage. Art imitates life and life imitates art so when Aunt Gloria questions him on his aimlessness, I couldn’t help but think these would be words I’d utter myself:

‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘that he would be satisfied if you didn’t look quite so…. useless… sometimes.’ She eyed her companion squarely, refusing to respond to his laughter. ‘You do slide through life, don’t you, Jimmy?’

It’s lucky Death Miser contained such nuggets because it’s an otherwise crappy book. That surprised me because I’ve read a dozen John Creasys before this and they were all good. The answer lies in the date, 1933. It’s his third novel and the first two were standalones, making this his first attempt to begin a franchise. He’d written – and I’m not shitting you – a stunning 43 books before the first of his Inspector West series, which are my favourite.

Department-Z-by-John-Creasey

Agent Jambone didn’t age gracefully

Creasey got considerably better at his craft over time, as you may expect.

There’s a short interview with his son on the official John Creasey site where he explains his dad used to give himself five days to write a novel. That’s almost incomprehensibly fast for something that gets legitimately published in the paperback era [1]. Back in those days printing technology severely constrained publishing so paperback authors would literally write to certain page count, based on a multiple of the individual sheaves of papers glued inside the cover. That’s why they are all the same size.

Creasey became so confident of his ability that he wouldn’t even plot his detective stories. He’d begin with a simple idea, throw in a clue, and then have his fictional detectives solve the mystery for him as he wrote. As the protagonist moved forwards, Creasey would think up – on the spot – the next clue or next twist. He was winging it. I sensed this make-it-up-as-you-go-along plotting when first reading the Inspector West yarns and it gives an air that anything might happen. It feels real because there’s the unusual sensation of a genre novel (i.e. plot-driven) that is actually somewhat character driven.

But that was all to come. In 1933’s Death Miser, it’s just shite. Creasey was only 25 years old when it was published and it shows. It’s impressive for a young lad who banged out three novels that first year, but by the standards of regular genre fiction its very immature. Half the time I wasn’t even sure what was supposed to be happening.

The story is thus. Jimmy is out in the countryside visiting his Aunt Gloria when he gets a telegram from Department Z telling him to put a watch on his next door neighbour Thomas Loder, a suspicious character. It turns out a dozen bad apples are having secret meetings there and the boss wants to know what. He meets a stunning girl who he goes doolally over but the least credible turn is that her dad (and Jimmy’s neighbour) is the head of an international criminal network that is about to pull the trigger on a World Revolution.

Dr Evil

“reeeeeeeaaally?”

Yeah, they just happened to set-up their HQ next door to Department Z’s top operative. That’s roughly equivalent to Spectre setting up shop next door to James Bond’s apartment in Sloane Square. You’d have to be 25 years old to write that.

Jimmy blunders his way through a couple of gun-fights, cabaret shows, car chases and showdowns with The Miser (the dad) and it’s dreadfully dull. I dare say that Fallen Angel was more skilfully written. So, this book is a load of shit. I don’t recommend it at all. I do, however, absolutely recommend John Creasey’s later work. He’s an accomplished pro by the time Inspector West appears.

Speaking of accomplished pros, you might want to check out my books available in the USA here, the rest of the world from Amazon here, and if you want to know more about each book and what it’ll teach you, look at my product summary here.

Sigma Wolf store

[1] As opposed to Kindle Direct Publishing where there’s no such quality control and books are often less than half the size.

#90 -The Werewolf Walks Tonight, Michael Avallone BOOK REVIEW

October 15, 2018
krauserpua

The Werewolf Walks Tonight

I don’t know what possessed me to read this book [1] seeing as it’s the second in a series where the first one was a bit shit, and the series evidently didn’t catch on first time around because it ended after the third book. But….. how can I put this? Reading Fallen Angel was the literary equivalent of eating a McDonald’s cheeseburger or gutter-gaming a gook: a squalid guilty pleasure precisely because it was a bit grotty.

I dunno, doesn’t Karl Jung talk something about the ‘shadow self’? Isn’t there a strain in psychology discussing the death wish [2] and our atavistic tendency towards occasional self-debasement? If I remember correctly, life in the Garden Of Eden was just lovely until Adam decided to eat the forbidden fruit and begin the fall of mankind. Anyway, my point being that my reading trashy books is an expression of a long lineage of self-destructive human behaviour.

That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

So imagine my surprise when this book turned to be good fun. Yes, The Werewolf Walks Tonight was a solid afternoon’s read. Not literature, and certainly not award-winning, but fun to read. Authors say you can ‘find the book in the writing of it’ and I think that’s what happened with Michael Avallone in his series. Book one started very clunkily indeed and didn’t find its way until halfway through. Book two also starts feebly but picks up much earlier. That got me speculating about the conditions under which Avallone wrote.

I have a writer friend nicknamed Juggernaut due to his resemblance to the Marvel villain [3] who had the good grace to edit volume three of my memoir Younger Hotter Tighter. “It starts unsteady but really hits its stride during the Brazil chapters” he told me. “And your introductions are shit.” Should I rewrite it, I asked. “Nah man. Editing is gay. Go on to the next book. Learn by writing.”

Juggernaut

“We’ll split the chapter in half about here”

I absolutely believe writers find their books by writing. Even the fantastically talented Erle Stanley Gardner began his Perry Mason series with a couple of clunking chapters. You need time with your characters and precis until you work out how it’s meant to hang together. Some writers are perfectionists so they’ll write the book and then, having found it, go back to the beginning and rewrite it in the new style. A prolific hack like Michael Avallone ain’t got no time for that. He wrote over 220 books and you don’t do that by looking backwards, do you Sonny Jim? By the time his editor was checking out chapter one of Fallen Angel, he was likely halfway through The Werewolf Walks Tonight.

Aint nobody

It was really apparent from book one that Avallone doesn’t rewrite his books. I suspect his editors had a big polishing job ahead of them. Reading The Werewolf Walks Tonight was like watching a boxing rematch – round one is really round thirteen. The guys already know each other, and have already adapted.

The story here concerns a tiny town in the Deep South called Fletcherville. The body of their priest is found in the forest with his throat ripped out, and soon after three more bodies are found. The injuries look inhuman, like the savaging of a wild beast, and word spreads there’s a werewolf on the loose. The Satan Sleuth, Philip St George, perks up his ears and goes to investigate. What follows is more like a murder mystery than an actioneer and it felt a little like a low-rent Matt Helm story. It’s short and doesn’t overstay it’s welcome. The combined Deep South atmosphere, multiple perspective characters, and supernatural overtones hang together long enough to produce a satisfying conclusion. The pace never drops.

I’m going to give Avallone another chance because I’m starting to think we got off on the wrong foot together with Fallen Angel. The guy writes full-blooded and without faggotry, getting straight to the point. Kindle Unlimited showed me he has a thirty-volume hard-boiled detective series so I’m curious to see how he handles different genres. If he’s the American John Creasey, I’ll be all over it.

It appears my books are all on Amazon now, for worldwide sale. They must run an automated script to pick up Ingram distributed books. Anyway, it’s good news because you can now get full colour latest editions of my books, hardcover or softcover, and save a packet on postage too. Let me know how the ordering process goes. Customers in the USA are still better off going direct to my Ingram sales page, as you’ll get exactly the same thing but faster and at no extra cost. Click here to know what products I’m selling.

[1] Excuse the pun.
[2] No, not the cool movie series.
[3] Friend is perhaps stretching it. More like an acquaintance. Or hanger-on.

#89 – Ivanhoe, Sir Walter Scott BOOK REVIEW

October 11, 2018
krauserpua

 

tumblr_mzbeb9sxez1s2pocso1_1280

If you don’t like this cover, you’re a faggot

On first picking up this book and taking a look at the title, I assumed it to be the memoir of a Russian prostitute. Imagine my disappointment, then, when upon reading I found it to be just some crusty old medieval fantasy tale written in cack-handed Ye Olde English.

Wait, no. That’s not quite right. Let’s start again.

It would appear that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has been a naughty boy. Many of you will know him as the author of the Sherlock Holmes detective stories. He also wrote the Sir Nigel knight-errant tales, and the Professor Challenger stories beginning with The Lost World. So, that’s a rather impressive oeuvre. Or is it?

I’d read all 56 Holmes short stories, 4 novels, and watched countless Basil Rathbone Nazi-hunting wartime movie adaptations before I finally stumbled upon Edgar Allan Poe’s Murders In The Rue Morgue. I’d heard whispers Poe had invented the entire genre of Locked Room Puzzle with this short story but…. fucking hell….. it was like reading a Sherlock Holmes story. Conan Doyle had shamelessly ripped it off. I then read Poe’s The Purloined Letter and…. fucking hell… that’s the blueprint for all the Sherlock Holmes stories featuring espionage.

I’ll grant that Conan Doyle’s stories are better than Poe’s, but they are shameless imitations. And yet I can’t be the only fool in these fair lands who gives Conan Doyle the creative credit that rightly belongs to Poe [1].

sherlock-holmes

“It would appear, Watson, to be a story featuring me written before I was born”

You’ll find my review of Sir Nigel here and I was greatly impressed by Conan Doyle’s tale of a valiant young knight doing battle with the French during the hundred years war [2]. Now that I’ve read Ivanhoe I see where his inspiration came from. It’s rather obvious. Again, I think Conan Doyle brings greater literary mastery to his tale than Sir Walter Scott does to Ivanhoe but it’s clear which of the two was the more original writer. Is there anything else Conan Doyle imitated and stole the thunder of? God forbid there are any movies out there featuring an isolated ‘park’ of dinosaurs from a Lost World of the Jurassic era. I think that would finish me off.

header

I’d like it carbon dated, please

On the plus side, it seems Sir Walter Scott was a tremendous influence on most adventure writers. Now that I’ve finally read him I see parallels in Tolkien and the crusader stories of Robert E Howard. It’s hard to believe Ivanhoe was written two hundred years ago as it reads fresh today. It took me only three days to plow through the 400-page tome. So, what’s it about?

The backdrop is strife and division in England a hundred years after The Battle Of Hastings. Normans still rule as robber barons and the Saxons grumble under their heel. King John has usurped Richard The Lionheart while the later was on the crusades and then held prisoner in Germany. A lone knight turns up incognito to a grand tournament and wins both the joust and melee, under the watchful eye of another incognito warrior, The Black Knight. From there begins a tale of battle and chivalry as Wilfred of Ivanhoe seeks to win the hand of his fair Rowena, Richard seeks to be restored to his throne, while Robin of Lockwood and Cedric Thane skirt the edges of the succession struggle.

ivanhoe-scott

This black knight is a long way from ho-o-o-ome

It reads a lot like a Dumas story if he were an Englishman. Like Dumas, Scott is adept at weaving together plot-lines from multiple characters with overlapping but never-matching interests, in showing the political climes of the day, and springing plot twists that don’t feel cheap but totally upend the book’s assumed trajectory. It can get overly wordy at times, like Dumas, with paragraphs the size of the page, but it’s always hurtling onward. It’s the kind of book that makes you want to pick up a sword and buckler and smite some Saracen on the noggin.

From the very first page I had the sense that Sir Walter Scott is an extremely intelligent and well-read man. Genuinely so, unlike a showy bullshitting pseudo-intellectual like Jordan Peterson. It really reminded me of my old maxim that “the Victorians were right about everything” [3] and that previous generations didn’t only have double our modern levels of testosterone but they were smarter too. You can’t imagine a millennial capable of reading this even though it was a mass market success in its day. The introduction to this Wordsworth Classics edition goes into a detailed critique that I didn’t much care for. Apparently Scott was a bit liberal with the historical chronology to speed up Richard’s return to England, he has some anachronisms in the weapons and coinage, and his tendency to overly describe scenes comes from his unfamiliarity with the time period.

Laughably, the introduction finds Scott’s treatment of gender roles and race to be troubling. It’s basically an Alt-Right book [4]. Men are valorized for bravery and battle, with a chivalric code of honour. Women are domesticated. Importantly, a key theme expressed via Cedric is how the Saxons cannot abide their lands to be overrun by foreign invaders because the two races are fundamentally different. There’ll be no race-mixing in this book, thank you very much. One plot-line is that no-one will tolerate their gallants from fraternising with a beautiful Jewish women [5] and much comedic relief comes from Isaac Of York, and avaricious cowardly Jew who is forever in peril.

I wasn’t the least bit troubled.

jew_basic

Isaac of York, yesterday

If you find such gallantry boring and think it would be better to read a memoir including Russians and whores, consider my own KrauserHo! series available here to US residents and here to everybody else.

[1] Never fear, karma has settled that debt to me by all the hustlers who imitate my work without giving credit.
[2] Or Thirty Years War. I forget. Check the review.
[3] The Queen was born one year before this book’s publication so it’s technically-speaking Victorian but my maxim isn’t meant to be that strict.
[4] As was everything back then.
[5] SPOILER – they’d rather burn her at the stake as a sorceress. Good on them!

#88 – Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte BOOK REVIEW

October 9, 2018
krauserpua

Girls don’t half read shite. You’ve probably heard of the Bronte sisters, a trio of Victorian lasses who each wrote classic romances in the early 1800s. I wasn’t really sure which of the three to start with [1] so I asked myself the obvious question: which one has the best Kate Bush song?

That would be Wuthering Heights, and thus Emily Bronte [2]

My first thoughts on this book were along the lines of oh my god this is so bleak! That’s deliberate. Bronte has done a sterling job in aligning all aspects of her writing to reinforce the feeling of a desolate, bleak, wind-swept moor peopled by a small clutch of disagreeable, bleak characters. Every single character in this story is thoroughly unlikable, even Nelly, the main narrator and Bronte’s ‘voice of reason’ within the total insanity created by the rest of the cast. The story goes thus.

There are two manors next to each other on the windswept Yorkshire moors, Thrushcross Grange and Wuthering Heights. The family of the latter are odd balls, being a young man Hindley and his younger sister Catherine. One day, while on a business trip to Liverpool, their dad picks up a street urchin gypsy that he names Heathcliff [3] who is Catherine’s age. For reasons unknown, the dad makes Heathcliff his favourite and that leads to resentment from his siblings, who bully him, as does the manservant Joseph. Thrushcross Grange is inhabited by the Lintons, of whom there are also a son and daughter, Earl and Isabelle, the same age as the other kids. They also hate Heathcliff.

Heathcliff

“Heathcliff, it’s me! Cathy! Come home tonight!”

Hindley goes off for a few years and comes back with a wife who then dies in childbirth to a young lad Hareton. Catherine and Heathcliff start playing together and form a budding romance but she ends up marrying Earl because of his vastly superior station in life and Heathcliff runs off for several years. He returns with mysterious wealth, blackmails the now drunkard Hindley by mortgaging Wuthering Heights for gambling debts, and uses his newfound power over the families to elope with and marry Isabelle. She has his child, named Linton, but escapes him. Catherine gives birth to a daughter, also called Catherine, and dies soon after. By this point it’s clear she and Heathcliff were desperately in love.

Skip forward about 15 years and the next generation has grown up and Heathcliff has used the intervening years to mope around in Wuthering Heights as a recluse, trying his damndest to ruin everyone’s life. His motivation appears to be to take revenge on Hindley by corrupting his son Hareton, and on Earl by ruining his daughter Catherine. For unknown reasons he’s also ruining his own estranged son Linton’s life too, bringing him back to Wuthering Heights. Around this time, a stranger called Lockwood arrives to rent the now untenanted Thrushcross Grange, and he’s the narrator of the first and last few chapters.

wuthering-heights

Look, it’s all a bit complex. Narratively, the book begins with Lockwood’s testimony in the present day, and he gets his housekeeper Nelly to give her testimony into events passed, and she sometimes provides a further layer by recalling testimony of Catherine and Isabelle. I’ll just summarise the key point:

Everyone is an utter cunt.

Heathcliff is the main villain and justifiably so, being a gypsy. What I can’t figure out is (i) why he’s doing this all, even though it ruins his own life, and (ii) why he lives on in culture as some kind of romantic bad boy. He’s a total chode. Okay, he’s dark, ruthless, good-looking and whatnot but his behaviours all smack of oneitis, jealously, zero emotional control, and failing to accomplish anything. He’s as good a candidate for ‘sexy bad boy’ and Walter White is for ‘alpha male’. To think that, you’d have to be brainless [4]. He spends his whole young adulthood failing to shag Catherine, then his middle-age pining over her memory. It’s a lifelong oneitis.

Catherine herself is also an utter cunt. Though the terms didn’t exist back then, Emily Bronte describes her as a character with clear bi-polar disorder and malignant narcissism. The traits are so consistently described that I can only presume Bronte was intimately acquainted with a BPD slut in her own real life. Catherine is constantly toying with others, abusing their politeness, and telling shameless lies, only to fly into rages and then self-pity when busted. It’s not clear if she dies for this reason, working herself into a fit, or if it’s death due to complications in childbirth. I found the book unclear because it spends several chapters presenting her as bedridden due to hysteria but then in a paragraph slips in that she gave birth without having ever mentioned she was pregnant. Weird.

Even the main narrator Nelly, the closest thing this book has to a normal person, is a bit of a cunt. Several times she could’ve prevented catastrophe but her own cupidity and cowardice lets others walk into disaster.

Also notable in this book is the depravity and insanity. It’s essentially two small households in the middle of nowhere. At no point do scenes take place in the nearby village, much less a city. There’s a cloying atmosphere of isolation as these lunatics roam around messing with each other’s minds. No-one ever does the sensible thing. For example, Heathcliff is determined to have his sickly young son [5] married to young Catherine so as to secure her inheritance for himself. Earl is adamantly opposed to this and….. does nothing. He tumbles to the plan before Catherine has developed any affection for Linton but just continues to live on the next manor over, doing nothing about it. He doesn’t send her off to boarding school, or into the village, or move house. They just wait like sitting ducks until events turn Heathcliff’s way.

I spent most of this book muttering under my breath, “just tell him to fuck off.” Mind you, the book would be only two chapters long in that case so I guess the canon of English literature is fortunate Bronte never considered that as an appropriate response.

Scary shit mate

This nails the book’s mood

Given how isolated the farmhouses are, and how depraved the inhabitants, I’m amazed there are no rape scenes. Several times that would be the obvious way for Heathcliff to achieve his ends. I suspect this is more due to Bronte writing the book in the early 1800s and thus not able to pass censorship. It’s not like gypsies ever shy away from rape, kidnapping, and using white girls as sex slaves [6]

If it was Emily Bronte’s intention to write a dark romance then I think she failed miserably and her legion of fans through the ages are morons. However, if she instead wished to paint a nightmarish picture of isolated countryside life and the dangers of living as a recluse, she admirably succeeded. I enjoyed this book and finished it in 24 hours.

If you’d like a story about an English bad boy who manipulates pretty young women into bed against their better judgement then consider my memoir series. Readers in the USA should go to my user-friendly site here. Readers in all other countries should go here.

[1] When forced to choose between three girls, I always go for the one with the biggest tits. However, there are no photos of this trio.
[2] I’ve yet to see anyone but Ms Bush hit the right notes on this song.
[3] A literal gypsy, in all it’s connotations of dirty skin, evil soul, and constant thievery.
[4] But remember, it’s written for women.
[5] A clear case of the Jungian ‘high-chair tyrant’
[6] I have a Romanian ex-girlfriend whose best friend in junior high school was kidnapped by gypsies while walking home, then sold into sex slavery in Italy, and only rescued by her father two years later.

#87 – D Day Through German Eyes, Holger Eckhertz BOOK REVIEW

October 8, 2018
krauserpua

37833620

That’s a half-assed cover

How many of you dickheads have played Company Of Heroes?

I have a strange fascination with the RTS genre in that I always think I want to play them [1] to the point of resolving “when I get home I’m gonna give it a crack” but then the moment I start I realise I’m all at sea. What actual tactics should I be using? It all degrades into a select-all-then-rush scrum. It would seem I’m just not very good at them.

In contrast, I’m fucking ace at Advance Wars. Make the thing turn-based and I’m completely in my element. Since the first Advance Wars game was released on the Game Boy Advance I’ve been a hardcore fan of the series and invested about two hundred hours into each of the four games. It perfectly suited all the long bus, train, and airplane rides I was doing at that point in my life. I could board a plane in Narita Airport, flick on the GBA, and then like magic I’d find myself at Heathrow twelve hours later having been so absorbed as to lose track of time completely.

advance-wars-02.big

Quite literally the best game ever made

I really am getting ahead of myself here. Sorry.

The only RTS game I ever completed was Command And Conquer Generals and ever since I’ve dipped into C&C but then dipped back out as I can’t fathom any actual tactics [2]. It’s unsatisfactory to my precise orderly mind to just cluster my units together in a random attack and then watch me overwhelm the enemy AI with brute force. I heard Company Of Heroes was the most tactical of RTSs so I looked into that and got very excited indeed. It looked like a Sven Hassel novel simulator.

Jesus, it looked great! Explosions, tanks, infantry, MG nests, and all done on the Normandy and Eastern fronts. Then….. I got confused and gave up. Right then, that finally gets me to today’s book, D-Day Through German Eyes (volume 1). This is my second stab at a free Kindle Unlimited book and I’m already seeing why people get so excited about the system.

Company of Heroes

Wheels Of Terror, the videogame

Vox recently discussed a reader’s theory on why e-books are a dying business despite the roaring success of Kindle Unlimited. Read the post here. To summarise, there are increasingly two types of internet-savvy reader. Firstly, the “super readers” who burn through a book or two per day on their e-reading device. These folks are reclusive hermits or spend a lot of time commuting (or skiving) and thus reading is their primary time-filler, where others in a similar situation but of different mind may prefer Netflix or Sudoku. Kindle Unlimited is perfectly pitched at such readers because there’s an effectively unlimited amount of reading available for a pittance, all on-demand on their device. I’m only two books into using the service and I’m already a convert. It’s really astonishing how much good stuff is on there, not to mention the weird niche trash too.

The second type are the “premium paper” readers who may not read so much but have an emotional identification with books such that they like to own high quality editions of the books they do like. They may even re-read the same book several times. For a long time, this described me. It’s quite normal for me to drop $50 for a single volume of a book I really like just for the pleasure of owning it. For example, consider these beauties.

Alexandre-Dumas-Set-Folio-Society

They look even better on my book shelf

I suspect many Sigma Wolf customers are the same. It’s why I instinctively lavished extreme care upon the quality of the books. Important though the content is, there’s a unique pleasure in owning a high quality edition. So now that I travel a lot I find myself switching between both super-reader (while abroad) and premium-paper (while home). Vox’s theory is that normal e-books have fallen between the two stools: too expensive for super-readers and too transient for premium paper buyers. I agree.

Anyway, I’ve gotten well off track. Let’s return to D-Day Through German Eyes.

This book made me want to play Company Of Heroes again. It’s a series of five interviews conducted ten years after the end of WWII to give a cross-section of German soldiers posted at the static defences of the Atlantic Wall. Each of Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno and Sword beaches are represented as are different branches of the Army in a grenadier, an infantry corporal, an engineer, and an artillery second lieutenant. Each man talks through the events of the evening preceding Operation Overlord and D-Day itself.

Notable themes are how the German troops speak of ‘defending France’ and that Nazi propaganda of the time had convinced them that Europe was united by Hitler and defending it from the international bankers of America, the global imperialists of Britain, and the communist hordes of Russia. Frankly, I think they weren’t far wrong. Here’s an example in chapter three:

It is overlooked, perhaps forgotten, by almost everyone today that we were there to defend Europe against the multiple threats represented by the Allies. We saw the British as an outdated Imperial force, organised by freemasons, who sought to turn the clock back one hundred years to the days when their word was the law around the world [3]. Why should they be entitled to install their freemason puppet, De Gaulle, in France, to rule as a proxy? The Vichy government had three consistent points in its propaganda regarding the threats to the French people: these were De Gaulle, freemasonry and communism.
As for the American state, we perceived that as controlled by the forces of international finance and banking [4], who wished to abolish national governments and have the world run by banks and corporations. And there was the definite sense that both these countries, England and the USA, were being manipulated, controlled, by the Bolsheviks in Moscow. I stress that these were my views, and they were very common views, at the time.

Looking at the collusion between the Hillary campaign and Russia, of China’s ownership of much of the Democrat party and Hollywood, of the Jewish control of Wall Street and social media, and the blatant fascism of the Obama administration [5]…… well, not much has changed since 1944. I suppose Iran’s control of the Obama presidency is the only new element. I happen to think the Nazis were cunts – socialist cunts – but there were no good guys in World War II and the whole thing was a shit show. Think of how much could’ve been achieved if instead of slaughtering each other, Europe had banded together and slaughtered Africa or the Middle East instead. We could’ve won back Constantinople!

Other notable themes are that all the soldiers sensed an invasion was coming that summer but German intelligence couldn’t predict exactly when or how it would occur, that Operation Overlord succeeded due to the overwhelming force Allies had against stretched Axis defenders, and that all the Germans report the Allies having total naval and air superiority.

My one qualm with this book is that I suspect it’s not an accurate account of the soldiers interviewed. All five veterans present extremely lurid accounts of battle, with limbs flying up from shell-blasts, guts hanging off tree branches, and men stumbling around as flaming torches from flamethrower attacks. It’s too gruesome and sensationalist to be believable. These men are describing possibly the most harrowing day of their lives in which they were pounded into submission, failed in their primary task (to repel the invaders), and saw dozens of comrades violently killed. I seriously doubt they’d talk about it like a Sven Hassel action scene.

Wolfenstein

Chapter 6 was cut because it was deemed slightly unrealistic

So is it all real? Did the editor spice it up with additional description? Were there no veterans at all and the ‘interviews’ are a creation of the writer’s own mind? I have no idea. I’d read this with the same mentality you’d watch a YouTube daygame infield: for entertainment. Assume the creator is lying his ass off.

If you’re in the USA and would like some premium-paper editions of my books with full-colour interiors then well, sonny Jim, it’s your lucky day. Go to my sales site here and it’s all very straight forward. Sadly that service doesn’t extend to countries outside the USA, but you can get the latest versions of my books by looking at my product page here.

[1] And to “git gud” at them.
[2] I’m not saying there aren’t any tactics, just that I can’t fathom them.
[3] I’d quite like that, now that I think of it.
[4] Jews.
[5] Actual fascism, in the Mussolini sense of organised collaboration between trades unions and business, with heavy government regulation of the economy, totalitarian state, and a negation of individual liberty, all propped up by outrageous money printing and debt creation.

#86 – Fallen Angel, Michael Avallone BOOK REVIEW

October 7, 2018
krauserpua

I’ll admit that in my advancing age I’m starting to struggle with horror and gore. When I was a kid I really didn’t give a shit. Friday 13th, Nightmare On Elm Street…. fuck it, even vile slasher shit like Maniac… bring it on! In contrast, about ten years ago I was watching one of the SAW sequels [1] and I found it all so pointlessly bloodthirsty.

Maniac movie

It might scare YOU, but I wasn’t the slightest bit worried

Who can enjoy this sadistic filth? I asked myself. Evidently large numbers did, as the eight movies made a combined worldwide gross of almost $1 billion, on a combined budget of just $77m, with not one of them grossing less than six times its budget. Consider the similarly-sadistic Hostel series was also a smash hit and that makes a lot of very sick individuals going to the cinema.

But then again, when I was fifteen years old I was watching Cannibal Holocaust and The Beast In Heat, and I turned out to be a very stable genius didn’t I?

Thinking about my decreased appetite for horror and carnage over the years [2] I figured out the key: empathy. What is it that creates empathy and why do I have more of it now than thirty years ago? My pet theory involves mirror neurons and warfare. For the latter, I’ve noticed that all teenagers, deep down, consider themselves to be immortal. It’s well known that young men make the most fearless soldiers and I think this is why. Young men are needed to defend the tribe and thus take extraordinary risks that are illogical should they be concerned only with the safe transmission of their own DNA to the next generation. Thus nature has imbued young men with a delusional sense of immortality (to take risks) and a lack of empathy (to mercilessly destroy enemies). It seems to wear off over age, perhaps as we are meant to transition to raising children or watching over grand-kids.

If you thought that was pseudo-science you won’t like my next leap of logic.

Empathy comes from mirror neurons and most social mammals have them. Simply put, when you notice a fellow mammal experiencing an emotion, your own matching mirror neurons fire to recreate their emotion in your own brain. That’s what empathy is [3]. Mirror neurons are extremely adaptive to higher primates because they support a Theory Of Mind and better allow you to anticipate the actions of others. It’s my conjecture that sociopaths are simply lacking these mirror neurons and that’s why they feel disassociated from others. If you can’t feel another’s pain, you find it easier to attack them.

Fallen Angel

I’m working my way around to it

Now, assuming I’m right about this [4], it presents an additional question of why has my empathy increased as I aged? [5] Is it a natural part of the ageing process, or might it even be a side-effect of the Game and my increased calibration? Could it be that doing thousands of sets and working very hard on calibration has been some kind of neural exercise to strengthen my mirror neurons?

I was watching Better Call Saul last week and in it was a hospital scene that suggests a common therapy for stroke patients is to train up undamaged neurons to take up the tasks formerly done by neurons the stroke has damaged. Could it be Game is a similar therapy? [6] I don’t know. I’m just telling you what was on my mind as I read this book, Fallen Angel, the first in the short The Satan Sleuth series. The book is shit, and I don’t recommend it, therefore spoilers ahead.

I downloaded this onto my kindle based entirely on how retarded the cover is, how interesting the narrative hook (a man hunting down Satanists in revenge), and that it was free on Kindle Unlimited. That’s a powerful trifecta on a Sunday afternoon when I’m sitting in Plato cafe in 25C sunshine with a couple of hours to kill.

Plato-1

I’m behind the left-most pillar, with my feet up

This is the plot:

Phillip St George is a young heir to a billionaire’s fortune who used the opportunity to become a world-renowned explorer, the type of man who “wants to see what is behind the mountain”. He marries a Miss America hottie and she’s waiting at home in his upstate New York chateau while he’s down south investigating the Bermuda Triangle [7]. It’s the normal schlock fiction set-up where every man is devastatingly rich and handsome while every girl has shapely legs and big tits. Escapism.

Things pick up when four Satanists invade the chateau, catch Phillip’s wife, and then ritually sacrifice her. It’s extremely brutal stuff, on a par with SAW or Hostel. They rape her with a crucifix, slash her torso with a knife, saw her limbs off, then finally chop her head off with an axe and strew the body parts around different rooms. Then they run away and hide in a cave. They evade capture during the one-month manhunt. Phillip is none to happy about this so he decides to become The Satan Sleuth, dress as a monk, arm up, and seek revenge. The Count Of Monte Cristo this isn’t. The revenge takes a week to plot and the four Satanists have the good grace to return to the chateau (unwittingly) so Phillip doesn’t even need track them down. He kidnaps one at a time and sets out to break their minds before gruesomely murdering them.

Think of it like Wes Craven’s The Last House On The Left. It’s really rather similar: a quartet of low-life beatniks (three men and a woman) capture a woman, sadistically murder her, then inadvertently stumble into her family, who takes brutal revenge. My guess is the beatnik’s murder in Fallen Angel is inspired by the Charles Manson ‘family’ attack on Sharon Tate only a few years earlier. Everyone hated hippies back then [8]

The book isn’t well written. It gets the job done but the first third is particularly poor at drawing the reader in. I figured out why. The writer, Michael Avallone, uses the odd prose style of reporting everything long after the event and in mostly passive voice. Take this section as an example, the very first lines of Fallen Angel:

  The last letter from his wife, Dorothea, was one that Philip St. George was to carry with him for the rest of his life. It was only a fairly short summons, a romantic plea from a lonely wife eager to see her husband again.
As things turned out, the poignant love cry buried somewhere in the racing feminine script was to sound over and over again, like Ravel’s Bolero, in the soul of the man who was not with her when disaster and terror and horror struck.
There is little a man can do when something is taken away from him. When he does realise, finally, far too late, just how much that something means to him.

That’s not very engaging is it? It’s not even a scene. Surely it would’ve made more sense to locate the reader into a scene as Philip reads the letter? “Philip dropped the telephone receiver and sat heavily in his smoking chair. He fumbled at the whiskey decanter on the table. ‘It’s your wife, she’s been murdered’. The sergeant’s words echoed in his ears and he was only now aware the policeman was still speaking, through the dropped receiver.”

Or something.

Everything about this story is overblown titillation. Here’s the beginning of the murder scene, the chapter helpfully titled “Overture To Slaughter” just in case you weren’t sure of it’s principal theme.

  She had lost the precious ability to scream.
To run, to hide, to vocally escape from the nightmare madness of it all. If she hadn’t been so terrified, so paralysed with fright, she might have been able to fight back. To at least halt the horror, block out the ugly reality.
But it was too late, now.
The hideous scene had engulfed her.
For all time.
Forever.
They were holding her down, trapping her, doing obscene, awful things to her.
Tall, monstrous, distorted shadows surrounded her, blotting out the light, the hope, the clear path toward sanity and reason.
She was overwhelmed, pinned everlasting in a scene from Hell. A poor player impaled between fantasy and commonplace normality

That’s a bit over-egged I think. It’s also extremely vague as this is how the chapter opens. We don’t yet know who she is, where she is, what’s going on. Its all abstract and nonsensical. Fortunately the book does pick up eventually and the latter half is written in the present tense and involves people saying and doing things in real time. Sadly, there’s no drama or reversal. Philip decides to hunt them down and does exactly that. He’s never in any kind of scrape, needs no ingenuity, and frankly doesn’t even expose himself to risk. I know that beating up a few spaghetti-armed progressives isn’t very challenging (as we see every day on Twitter nowadays) but they should at least put up a bit of a fight to keep the reader entertained.

The one part where the book surprised me was the ending. Having kidnapped all four hippes and tied them up he decides not to kill them. His cold hatred has burned out, he fears what he’ll become, so he instead calls the police. That’s actually an interesting way to do it. In a book that promises gore, violence and murder the only actual violence committed in the entire novel is (i) the initial murder and (ii) the hippy leader beating up his girlfriend with his fists. It’s amazing how little carnage is here after that early chapter quoted above.

Anyway, it’s shite and I don’t recommend it. I suppose the fact Michael Avallone wrote 223 books (officially, he claimed a total of 1,000 including those written under pseudonyms) means you can’t expect him to spend much time on each.

Sigma Wolf store

The USA site is online now

What I do recommend is my own series of books available here to readers in the USA and available here to everyone else.

[1] No idea which, as they are so samey as to have blurred into one that I can’t see which saw I saw and which scene I seen from a saw I didn’t see.
[2] Except for killing globalist traitors. I’d still very much like to see them tortured to death.
[3] I know, it’s hard to believe that increased sensitivity to other people’s misfortunes may result from excessively active mirror neurons rather than simply “increased faggotry”.
[4] I always assume I’m right even when I’m not.
[5] I stress again that, “because you’re more of a faggot now” is an unscientific retort and you should know better than to think it.
[6] Unless you’re a spammer and thus not training calibration at all, or one of those “circling the drain” black sheep YouTube players who very specifically tries to prevent ever developing empathy.
[7] Basically, he’s me but in the 1970s.
[8] Nothing has changed.