Waiting to Finish Frank Bill's DonnyBrook

I was passing through New York--about two months back--when Donnybrook by Frank Bill arrived in the mail. I had just begun reading Bill's novel when I let BTAP-published poet Kyle Knapp borrow it with the idea that I'd pick it up again in four days time. Well, one thing led to another, and Kyle and I missed each other at the next junction ... and I still haven't finished Donnybrook, though I'm promised it is in the mail. Kyle posted a review on Amazon that reads:

An exemplary work of art; a raging bloodbath, that leaves you begging for more. 

Imagine Chuck Palahniuk reborn in a mental asylum to a hermaphroditic witch doctor and then loosed into the woods. He discovers there an abandoned library haunted by a ninja. Ok... maybe that's a bit much, but it is a good metaphor for what you're getting into! Frank Bill's novel has the spastic energy of a beating heart. I stayed up into the small hours night after night until it was finished, too eager to turn out the light. Friends borrowed the story jealous of who was ahead of them in line, as we all agreed that this novel was going to be the next hallmark of youth-run-amok. For a guy that grew up religiously watching Fight Club--and sneaking off into the night after a few beers with his friends to beat the hell out of each other... This is it! This is the next Holy Pyre of the Damned. Enjoy at the risk of falling in love on the battlefield!

Hell, wanna finish reading this in the worst way but have to wait for it to arrive in the mail, again!