Blood and Bullets may have provided the most fun I've had reviewing a book in years. Fast, funny, brutally and unashamedly entertaining it reads like the literary equivalent to getting your ass shot into space. For a short while you sit and see what's going on and then the story kicks in and you are thrown back and helpless but to enjoy the ride. Then, for just a moment you feel the weightlessness and ease of thinking you have the book figured out and then reentry slams you back into your seat again as you come crashing to the final page.
With a plot that boils down to "try and kill ME, will ya?" James R. Tuck has crafted a beautiful little book that opens the door on perhaps one of the most engaging and (dare I say it) badass characters to situate itself in the fiction aisle in quite a while. Deacon Chalk, former tattoo-artist and current monster hunter slash owner and operator of Polecats (a dance club) is just 6-foot-plus of adrenaline.
Thrown into a situation where he finds himself nearly staked in the heart by another monster hunter only to find himself in the middle of 50 or so rather pissed off and determined vampires, Chalk sets out in Blood and Bullets to figure out just what the hell is going on.
Armed with enough weaponry to stun many small countries in the Middle East plus the bonus of angel's blood coursing through his veins, Chalk relies on the help of his friends, such as Kat who runs his club and Father Mulcahy who provides him with all the holy water and spiritual guidance and general bad-assery he needs (Father Mulcahy may be my favorite character other than Deacon, by the way, as he comes across as a rather amazing mixture of Scotty from Star Trek, Sean Connery and the old priest in the original Exorcist).
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