Book Review: Meat by Dane Cobain

Meat
by Dane Cobain
October 13, 2020
ASIN: B08L71G8J4 

ISBN: 9798685539595
Veterinarian Tom Copeland takes a job at a factory farm called Sunnyvale after a scandal at his suburban practice. His job is to keep the animals alive for long enough to get them to slaughter. But there are rumors of a strange creature living beneath the complex, accidents waiting to happen on brutal production lines and the threat of zoonotic disease from the pigs, sheep, cows, chickens, and fish that the complex houses. Suddenly, disaster rocks Sunnyvale and cleaners, butchers, security guards and clerical staff alike must come together under the ruthless leadership of CEO John MacDonald. Together, they’ll learn what happens when there’s a sudden change to the food chain. Bon appétit.

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Tom Copeland is an English veterinarian who was forced to steal ketamine from storage. His vet partner gave him the option of selling out his half in the vet practice or being reported to the police. His wife leaves him and he finally manages to get a job as a vet for a factory farm. His job is to keep the animals alive long enough for slaughter. Suddenly, disaster hits and it is not long before he, CEO MacDonald, and other workers have to come together to survive. Something horrible has hit not just the factory farm, but elsewhere.

This horror/end of the world book is creepy because it could really happen. Covid has shown viruses jumping from an animal and causing a pandemic. What if other viruses or even something man-made brings worse. Dark enough to make you wonder if you should take that next bite of ham or fried egg, or go vegetarian. A Bon Appetit of horror.

I give Meat 4 sheep.

Reviewed by Pamela K. Kinney

About the Author:

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Dane Cobain (High Wycombe, UK) is a published author, freelance writer and (occasional) poet and musician with a passion for language and learning. When he’s not working on his next release, he can be found reading and reviewing books while trying not to be distracted by Wikipedia.

His releases include No Rest for the Wicked (supernatural thriller), Eyes Like Lighthouses When the Boats Come Home (poetry) Former.ly (literary fiction), Social Paranoia (non-fiction), Come On Up to the House (horror), Subject Verb Object (anthology), Driven (crime/detective), The Tower Hill Terror (crime/detective), Meat (horror), Scarlet Sins (short stories), The Lexicologist’s Handbook (non-fiction) and The Leipfold Files (crime/detective).

His short stories have also been anthologised in Local Haunts (ed. R. Saint Clare), We’re Not Home (ed. Cam Wolfe), Served Cold (ed. R. Saint Clare and Steve Donoghue) and Eccentric Circles (ed. Cynthia Brackett-Vincent).

Author Dane Cobain: A Day in the Life of a Professional Writer

A Day in the Life of a Professional Writer

One of my favourite writers is Charles Bukowski, who had a hell of a way with words despite the fact that he wasn’t a nice man (he was an alcoholic, gambling-addicted womaniser). He has a great line that goes, “Never get out of bed before noon.”

I’m a night owl, so I agree with him.

I normally wake up at around 11 AM and check my phone to see if anyone’s booked a consultation call with me, because my slots open at 12 PM. If I’ve got a call, I’ll get up. If not, there’s a good chance I’ll go back to sleep for a bit.

When I finally get up properly at around 2 PM, I get dressed, make a cup of coffee and start work. I use a variant of the Pomodoro Method that I call The Schedule. Basically, I work in 45-minute loops. For the first 15 minutes, I tidy my house, do stuff on my computer like marketing and checking my emails and spend the rest of it writing. The remaining half an hour is dedicated to working on my freelance clients.

Freelancing
As a freelancer, I do pretty much anything relating to writing. That includes everything from ghostwriting and editing books to working on blog posts and website copy, with specialisms in marketing, publishing and technology. I also offer coaching to people who are publishing their first books.

When I’m working, I’m usually simultaneously watching YouTube videos or Netflix, although I’ll sometimes put a vinyl record on as well. I can work in silence, but I’d prefer not to.

I work pretty much every hour I can, in part because I bought my first house in September of last year and so I still need to squirrel away extra cash for my mortgage, renovations and the inevitable massive tax bill that comes from being self-employed.

Because of that, I work at The Schedule from 2 PM until about 8 PM, generally stopping to make some food at about six. On Mondays and Thursdays, I also take part in Q&As over Zoom in which I work alongside some other coaches to answer any questions that out writing students have.

I also try to get out in the garden while the sun is shining, even if it’s just to water my plants. This is the first time I’ve ever had a garden of my own and I’m trying to grow fruits, herbs and vegetables. I work out there on my laptop from time to time, too.

In the evening
In the evenings, I switch things up a bit and also spend some time shooting and editing videos for my YouTube channel, Dane Reads. I’m a serial multi-tasker and so when I’m editing videos, I’m usually responding to comments or working on my eBay store at the same time.

Most days, I play guitar and sing for half an hour or so, too. I try to do that before 9 PM out of consideration to my neighbours, and I just pick out whatever I feel like playing from a huge list of cheat sheets. Sometimes I cover other bands, and sometimes I play songs that I wrote myself.

Because I’m a workaholic, I’ll basically keep at it for as long as I can stay awake. Most days, I’ll work until about 2 or 3 AM, doing a mixture of my freelance work and trying to crack on with my work in progress.

There are some exceptions to this schedule, but it really depends. At the weekend, I sometimes perform my music at open mic nights or play with my band, The Ilk. I hang out with my friends from time to time as well, although given that most of my friends are members of the local music scene, I mostly just see them at concerts.

Bedtime
Once it’s time for me to go to bed, I put Peep Show on the TV and cuddle up with my cat (Biggie). I normally multi-task by practicing languages on Duolingo while simultaneously reading a bedtime book, which is my name for a book that I read a book at a time each evening. They’re usually books like collections of letters that I don’t find interesting enough for them to be my main read.

Unfortunately, I’m a serial insomniac, perhaps because I never stop working. I quite often find that I can’t sleep, in which case I get back up and do another loop of productivity before trying again. Perhaps it’s no wonder that my sleep is so screwed.

My life might not sound particularly exciting, and perhaps it isn’t. That’s the reality of being a writer, especially when you’re trying to make a name for yourself and to break through in a competitive industry.

Becoming one of the 0.1% of writers who’s able to make a living takes three things: talent, hard work and a little bit of luck. I’m in my early thirties at the moment and so I still have the energy it takes to work 80-hour weeks, but I won’t be able to do that forever.

That’s part of the reason why I’ve been working so hard since the start of the pandemic. The goal is to front-load as much as possible, putting in the hours now so that I can start to scale back over the next ten years or so. It’s a long-term plan, but I’m getting there.

Oh, and did I mention that if you buy one of my books, you’ll be helping me to live the dream?

Meat

by Dane Cobain

Veterinarian Tom Copeland takes a job at a factory farm called Sunnyvale after a scandal at his suburban practice. His job is to keep the animals alive for long enough to get them to slaughter. But there are rumours of a strange creature living beneath the complex, accidents waiting to happen on brutal production lines and the threat of zoonotic disease from the pigs, sheep, cows, chickens and fish that the complex houses. Suddenly, disaster rocks Sunnyvale and cleaners, butchers, security guards and clerical staff alike must come together under the ruthless leadership of CEO John MacDonald. Together, they’ll learn what happens when there’s a sudden change to the food chain. Bon appétit.

Amazon

About the Author:

Website-FB-Twitter

Portfolio-Email-Amazon

Goodreads-Media Kit 

Instagram-YouTube
LinkedIn-TikTok

Dane Cobain (High Wycombe, UK) is a published author, freelance writer and (occasional) poet and musician with a passion for language and learning. When he’s not working on his next release, he can be found reading and reviewing books while trying not to be distracted by Wikipedia.

His releases include No Rest for the Wicked (supernatural thriller), Eyes Like Lighthouses When the Boats Come Home (poetry) Former.ly (literary fiction), Social Paranoia (non-fiction), Come On Up to the House (horror), Subject Verb Object (anthology), Driven (crime/detective), The Tower Hill Terror (crime/detective), Meat (horror), Scarlet Sins (short stories), The Lexicologist’s Handbook (non-fiction) and The Leipfold Files (crime/detective).

His short stories have also been anthologised in Local Haunts (ed. R. Saint Clare), We’re Not Home (ed. Cam Wolfe), Served Cold (ed. R. Saint Clare and Steve Donoghue) and Eccentric Circles (ed. Cynthia Brackett-Vincent).

Book Review: No Rest for the Wicked by Dane Cobain

No Rest for the Wicked
by Dane Cobain
Publisher: Forsaken
ASN: B00YCHVQAU

ISBN: 9781620159026
May 26, 2015
When the Angels attack, there’s NO REST FOR THE WICKED. Father Montgomery, an elderly priest with a secret past, begins to investigate after his parishioners come under attack, and with the help of Jones, a young businessman with an estranged child, Montgomery begins to track down the origin of the Angels. The Angels are naked and androgynous. They speak in a dreadful harmony with no clear leader. These aren’t biblical cherubs tasked with the protection of the righteous – these are deadly creatures of light that have the power to completely eradicate. When Jones himself is attacked, Father Montgomery knows he has to act fast. He speaks to the Angels and organizes a final showdown where he’s asked to make the ultimate sacrifice.

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Father Montgomery has a sin in his past. While he was studying at the seminary to be a priest, he fell in love with a young woman and after they made love one night, he impregnated her. She gave up the child at a local orphanage. On promise to her after she passes away, the priest must watch over their son, Robert Jones. All this is told intermingled with the current frightening tale of ‘Angels,’ sort of ‘sin eaters’ that have been appearing, and after listening to the sins of humans they will burn them to death or cause them to vanish.

The relationships are fine, but they could have been delved into deeper, especially between Father Montgomery and Robert Jones. The storyline is apocalyptic on a Biblical scale and yet less so, as science fiction is brought into this with physicists making a machine that may bring back light destroyed by black holes, but instead found these beings. Are they truly angels, as they act less angelic than what I learned in Catholicism class. Or demons, as their attitude is more like demons. Or something else?

A paranormal with science fiction elements that fits perfectly for this time of the year between Halloween and Christmas. Tired of the end of the world scenarios with zombies? This novella will fit the bill.

I give No Rest for the Wicked 4 sheep

Pamela K. Kinney

About the Author:
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Dane Cobain (High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, UK) is an independent poet, musician and storyteller with a passion for language and learning. When he's not in front of a screen writing stories and poetry, he can be found working on his book review blog or developing his website, www.danecobain.com. His debut novella, No Rest for the Wicked, will be released by Booktrope in the Summer of 2015.

Spotlight: No Rest for the Wicked by Dane Cobain w/excerpt + giveaway

No Rest for the Wicked
by Dane Cobain
Genre: Supernatural Thriller
Publisher: Booktrope/Forsaken
Cover Artist: Ashley Ruggirello
When the Angels attack, there’s NO REST FOR THE WICKED.
Father Montgomery, an elderly priest with a secret past, begins to investigate after his parishioners come under attack, and with the help of Jones, a young businessman with an estranged child, Montgomery begins to track down the origin of the Angels.

The Angels are naked and androgynous. They speak in a dreadful harmony with no clear leader. These aren’t biblical cherubs tasked with the protection of the righteous – these are deadly creatures of light that have the power to completely eradicate.

When Jones himself is attacked, Father Montgomery knows he has to act fast. He speaks to the Angels and organises a final showdown where he’s asked to make the ultimate sacrifice.

amazon buy link

Exceprt

Chapter Eleven: Beings of Light

Sunday November 15th, 2009
Montgomery stayed behind long after the service, sweeping the floors and adjusting the religious displays. In the glory days, they’d had a cleaner; now, the church was falling apart. It was tiring, but the priest worked hard to look after the place himself. He liked the hallowed silence that the church offered, and he wished he were strong enough to carry out repairs. As it was, he satisfied himself by dragging an old broom across the dusty stone and polishing every surface he could reach.

It started on a quiet November night. Most people had to work in the morning, and those who didn’t were kept inside by the cold air and the dark sky. Cars rumbled hypnotically past, as easy to ignore as a ticking clock.

He was wiping down shelves in the old rectory when he heard the commotion. For centuries, the room had mostly been used for storage, but meetings were occasionally held there. Strange noises startled him, but the courage and curiosity of his youth prevailed. His old brain decoded the pattering of running feet, and a pair of heavy fists smashed against the door.

“Father!”

The voice had a thick Irish accent, and it radiated panic and despair. The oak portal rattled in its hinges, and Montgomery raced towards it, wrenching the rusty bolts back and fumbling with the key. When the bolts snapped open, the door flew out and almost knocked the Irishman over. As soon as the drunk was over the threshold, Montgomery slammed the door behind him and jammed the bolts home.

“Ah,” said Montgomery, calm and composed in the face of insanity. “Niall. And what can I do for you?”

“They’re after me, Father,” Niall whimpered, grabbing Montgomery’s arm and steering him into the shadows. “I seen ‘em, I really did.”

“Calm down. What is it?” The lairy Irishman was a notorious drunk, and Montgomery often looked after him. Niall didn’t have a home, so he slept on the floor in the rectory. This arrangement was under threat since he’d been caught with the communion wine.

“I seen ‘em, Father. All in a line behind the bushes. Well, we’ve all heard about ‘em, sure enough. It’s all anybody talks about, these days.”

“Slow down, Niall. Start from the beginning.”

“Sure thing, Father,” he said. “They can’t set foot in the house of the Lord. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

The priest was used to the Irishman’s ramblings, but he normally flowed through topics as though the boundaries didn’t exist. For once, Niall made sense – sort of.

“You were being followed?”

“You don’t know the half of it. It’s these Angels. That’s what I reckon.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Montgomery said, and he had. Half of the country was alive with the rumour. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“There I was, sitting in the car park and minding my own business. You know how it is, Father. I was drinking my medicine, if you catch my drift.”

“I understand.”

“Out of nowhere, this fella comes up to me… I thought he was the fuzz until I found my glasses and got a proper look. D’you know what, Father? He was naked, I’ll swear it. Naked as the day he was born. He was handsome, though. Reminded me of my younger days.” Now that the sense of imminent danger had passed, Niall was settling into the story.

Montgomery was patient though, and he said nothing as he parsed reality from the tale.

“He was a strange fella, and not just ‘cause he was naked. He seemed to shine. I thought I was seeing things. It’s happened before, it’s the nature of the beast. It was like he was lit up by a spotlight, only more like he was the spotlight, and I was on the stage.”

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“You see, that’s the weird thing… he did. He had a deep voice that echoed like he was standing inside the church. And he said to me, ‘Justify yourself.’ Then he told me to wait, and I was just about to run. He said there were more on their way, and that’s all I needed to know. I’m telling you, it was hard to move my legs.”

“Catatonia,” Montgomery murmured. “Interesting.”

“And then he said, if you’ll believe me, ‘His fear is building. Follow him, but don’t catch him yet. This fruit is not yet fully ripe.’ Well, Father, that got me moving all right. I ran across town and they followed me all the way here. They ain’t coming inside the church, though. They wouldn’t dare.”

But Montgomery was no longer listening. He could hear voices through the walls, and he sidled over to the door to listen. He wondered if they were real. Could the drunkard’s tale be a trick? Cautiously, he slid the bolts across and opened the door, peering out into the darkness. He couldn’t see anything unusual.

“Hello?” he called, but there was no response except for the faint echo, which mimicked his gentle accent and faded into the night. He tried again, and then a third time, but nothing changed. It was raining, and a fine mist was rising from the river and tickling the horizon. He called one last time, before giving up and returning to the warmth.

The old Irishman had slumped to the floor and fallen into a dazed half-sleep in his absence, and Montgomery frowned at the recumbent figure like a mother at an unruly child. It was getting late, and it wouldn’t be easy to take Niall to the shelter. With the long, deep sigh of an impatient man, he grabbed Niall’s legs and dragged him to the corner.

The Irishman smelled like a distillery, and the priest marvelled at his aptitude as a drunken raconteur. Montgomery poured a glass of water and stood it beside him, knowing all along that Niall would only touch it if his life depended on it. There was nothing else to do – Montgomery couldn’t make the stone floor more comfortable, but comfort was a luxury that Niall could rarely afford. Montgomery’s heart was racing, and the rest of the cleaning would have to wait for another day.

He turned off the overhead lights and left Niall on the floor, illuminated by dim side-lights that skirted the great religious precinct and lit the pews. He knew from experience that the church could be unnerving at night, and who knew what hallucinations his alcohol-riddled mind might produce?

Montgomery dismissed the experience as the work of a gullible fool with a drunken imagination, and he felt no fear as he walked through the churchyard in the near-darkness. He left the doors unlocked so Niall could leave, though he’d never left them open before. There wasn’t anything worth stealing, but he held a secret dark opinion of human nature. He was a deeply spiritual man, but he was also a realist – faith wouldn’t protect the church from graffiti and vandalism.

He was deep in thought as he began the long walk home through the dusty estate. For a fleeting moment, he thought he was being watched, but he shrugged it off and walked calmly through the sleeping city. It was a feeling he was about to get used to.

About the Author:

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Dane Cobain is a writer and poet from a place you've probably never heard of, somewhere in England. His debut novella, a supernatural thriller called 'No Rest for the Wicked', will be released by Forsaken in the summero f 2015. When he's not writing books, he's reading and reviewing them on his book blog, SocialBookshelves.com - Charles Bukowski, Graham Greene and Phillip Pullman are favourites.

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