Shurrn's Reviews > Shattered Glass

A book which gleefully oscillates between seriousness and silliness... The only thing more rewarding than reading this book was finally figuring out what all "Bunny Slipper" status updates were about...

“I’m not gay.” That wasn’t what I meant to say. At least not so bluntly. It had just become a mantra as I drove across town. Repeated over and over so many times that, by the time I stood in the diner, confronted once again by this visceral attraction to a perfect stranger, the words tumbled out.

“Congratulations. Would you like a medal?” Bunny Slippers asked.

“I already have a medal. For bravery, not for being gay. I think you made me gay.”

“I made you gay?” He set down the napkin he was holding. “Is that better or worse than the person who made you stupid?”

This book was one of the four big players in the MM Romance genre for 2013, and I am grateful to have had the opportunity to do a buddy read of this with the GCR Group who were celebrating M/M March. This book would be entertaining for the solo reader, but I also recommend this for a book club. The eroticism doesn't permeate the text, and there is enough character development and seriousness to prompt many interesting conversations...

Shattered Glass is a combination of:
crime drama,
coming out angst,
haunted pasts,
touching connections,
laugh out loud humor,
murder mystery,
brotherly love,
general awkwardness,
and steamy sexual situations...

AUSTIN GLASS

I was not insecure. I was a perfectly normal combination of arrogant and narcissistic.

Logan is a straight-laced detective on track to join the FBI. He's also a trust-fund kid with a huge ego and a fiancé. So when he finds himself sexually attracted to a redheaded bus boy at a local diner, he is obviously knocked for a loop.... And the knocks just keep coming for Detective Glass...

PETER "RABBIT" COTTON

“Everyone is your competition.” Peter lifted his hand to his eyes and began lowering it incrementally. “It goes normal human beings, crazies, republicans, my hand, imaginary characters, corpses and then, in a moment of lustful psychosis, you.” By the time he was done, his hand was below the table.

Peter comes from a rough past - one which slowly reveals its dark depths as the book progresses. He isn't a mere busboy at the diner, he's the owner - the ex-cop who took him in off the streets left it to him in his will.

Together Peter and Austin spell trouble - their attraction is more than merely dangerous for Austin's career, it could quite possibly be deadly...

There were so many heavy subjects packed into this book... lovingly wrapped in humor... I think a less competent author might have crumbled under the pressure of the undertaking. As it is, Dani Alexander has creating an amazingly balanced novel which I can't help but recommend...

There was a single POV from Austin's perspective though out the book, and his awkwardness shined through brilliantly.

The show was kind of stolen in the personality department by Peter's little brother Cai - whose past and present are heart-wrenching. He is emotionally unstable and wise beyond his years.

“Cruelty is an effortless answer to fear.”
“Who said that?”
“Um… me?”
“You’re too wise for your own good.”
“You’re too cynical for yours,”

The next book in this series (Not So Innocent) is Cai's story... We all hope it will be published, but I couldn't tell you when to save my life - Dani Alexander's Slashfiction site says "published 2012" GoodReads says "Published 2014" but they are all lying liars who tell all the lies...

I will await the next installment. I will not, however, be holding my breath for a quick release...



Some of My Favorite Moments:
(view spoiler)[
Blue eyes. No, not just blue, blue like glacial waters, like romantic poems, like heavens and moonstones. Cornflower blue. And—
Blue like romantic poems? What the ever-living fuck?

Apparently this was an awesome time to not only discover I had a bunny slipper fetish, but to violate someone’s arm in public. Some guy’s arm.

I flipped off a street sign that didn’t conform to my need to go right, earning a glare from a misunderstanding motorist who yelled, “Cocksucker!” as I passed. I briefly considered rolling down my window and explaining that I was not, in fact, a cocksucker; that it was just that one fantasy. And besides, I was fairly sure I had a bunny slipper fetish, not a cock sucking fixation. That seemed like a lot of information to impart in the second and a half we had before he pulled ahead of me, so I let it slide.

Naked things. With a guy. Naked things with a guy. Surreal.
[...]
Jesus! Okay, that’s just disturbing.

“Do you know any gay guys?” I asked when he picked up the phone.
“Why? Are you switching teams?” I heard the low chuckle on the other end.
“I’m not sure. Maybe,” I answered sincerely. He laughed again, because that’s what everyone did when I told the truth. It was a little disconcerting.

There was no way gay men watched as much ESPN as I did— another check to the 'not gay' column.

“I’m not gay.” That wasn’t what I meant to say. At least not so bluntly. It had just become a mantra as I drove across town. Repeated over and over so many times that, by the time I stood in the diner, confronted once again by this visceral attraction to a perfect stranger, the words tumbled out.
“Congratulations. Would you like a medal?” Bunny Slippers asked.
“I already have a medal. For bravery, not for being gay. I think you made me gay.”
“I made you gay?” He set down the napkin he was holding. “Is that better or worse than the person who made you stupid?”
“Worse,” I answered automatically. Then I computed what he said. Ouch. “I have a degree.”
“What are pointless and obtuse bits of information, Alex?”
“Austin,” I corrected.
“Right now, you’re Alex.”
“What?” This conversation wasn’t going at all like I planned.
“This is Jeopardy, right? You give all the answers, I tell you the questions?”

And fuck it, I’m not gay. Goddammit.
I’m bunny-slipper-sexual?

You fail at prostitution.

“A gay? I don’t think it’s a noun.”

“You’re not just short a few sandwiches,” he said, lip curling up in disgust. “Your picnic is missing the basket and blanket. There’s not even ants at your picnic.”

“Everyone is your competition.” Peter lifted his hand to his eyes and began lowering it incrementally. “It goes normal human beings, crazies, republicans, my hand, imaginary characters, corpses and then, in a moment of lustful psychosis, you.” By the time he was done, his hand was below the table.

My case was unraveling before my eyes, but I had a date with Peter on Saturday. He might not even stab me in the face during it.
It amazed me what constituted a victory these days.

“I like you,” I said honestly. “Even though you’re probably a criminal and are going to get me thrown off the force. And you kicked me. Broke my nose. Made me gay and refused to kiss me.”

“Tell me something good about your life,” I whispered, needing to hear that he wasn’t as broken as I thought him to be.
Peter breathed into the handset for about two minutes. I began wondering if he was about to hang up, or had fallen asleep, when he answered. “You.”

You
That one word. Maybe nothing else mattered but that. Maybe all that mattered was that I wanted to hear his snarky comments about my tie and make him laugh in spite of his best attempt not to.
Maybe all that mattered was I was mostly accepting the gay.

What I knew, beyond a doubt, was that if I continued to deny who I was, I’d end up with my service revolver in my mouth.
“Better cock than steel,” I said wryly...

I was not insecure. I was a perfectly normal combination of arrogant and narcissistic.

“I just didn’t care what they thought. They were a means to— whoa, hello. That’s a penis.”

My throat constricted, a ball of humiliation pushing upwards from my stomach. My mouth still stung from his kiss. The attraction still hovering between us made me sick. All his lies, his manipulations, the hostility, the teasing, and I still wanted him.

“My whole life has been upside down since I met you! A little confliction is—.”
“Not my fault. Your confliction is not my fault or my problem.”
The laugh that pushed out of me had more air than humor. “You’re right. I’m not your problem. Not your type. Not your anything. I’ve ignored all your hostile rejections, the insults and the lies. You wanted me to leave you alone. I’m finally listening, Peter.”

I sat on my sofa, pounding Johnny Walker Black like it was my new bride and this was our honeymoon.

“Are you going to join?”
Yes. Fuck, yes. Yes on four different levels— one of them pleading. “No,” I replied.

I didn’t care about what I just said to Peter. Didn’t notice the awkward silence or care that I was giggling and suspended from my job and being used by a whore to help a sociopath. I just closed my eyes to it all and let Johnny Walker lead me back to our honeymoon suite.

When did my life become a series of lectures and scoldings from a twenty-year-old whore?

“You’re hard.”
“Yeah well, I keep trying to explain to my dick that you’re a lying, manipulative whore, but it has selective hearing and chooses to focus on that last part.”

His mouth held only a serene smile— a vision I would pocket away forever.

Dave and I had jacked off together plenty of times. Our friendship didn’t lend itself to embarrassment.

Maybe Peter was the answer. The problem and the answer. The answer without being a solution.

Lord, give me strength, and a steady hand for when I shoot him in the face.

Most people showed gratitude or happiness in a smile or a bouquet of flowers— Peter sucked cock.
Not a whole lot of debate on which of those choices was my favorite.

“Cruelty is an effortless answer to fear.”
“Who said that?”
“Um… me?”
“You’re too wise for your own good.”
“You’re too cynical for yours,”

“Do you know why I like dogs and not cats? Because when you’re talking to dogs, they don’t walk away in order to rim themselves.”

“Good. Then you can find a place for them to sleep, if they’re staying. But hear this— I’ve given up my living room, guest room, job, career, heterosexuality and my stance on no pets in the house, but I’m not giving up my room. I’m drawing a line.”

“Rabbit’s the rock we cling to when we’re drowning. He needs a mountain to hold him up, not another storm that’ll wear away at him.”

He tasted of salt and sweat and every one of my fantasies.

“I have a price tonight.” “It wasn’t coming on my face like we were shooting a scene from Peter Does Austin?”

“Here are the facts, Austin. You’ve been engaged four times. You’ve cheated on every single one of them.” Fuck the fucking newspapers and their biased articles about me. “You’re cruel sometimes and superficial and spoiled and really fucked up emotionally. You talk about my being inscrutable, but you treat nothing as if it matters to you. Something terrible happens? You make a joke and shrug it off. You feel too much? You get angry and lash out at me. So no, I’m not in love with you. I’m fighting it every fucking step! I just wish I could stop it.”

“You’re a manipulative asshole, you know that?”
“You love it.”
“Only when your manipulations are to get into my pants.”
“Yes, my so clever manipulations to get into your pants. What were those again?”
“Breathing. Talking. Existing.”
(hide spoiler)]

SECTION HEADINGS:
One of the highlights of the structure of this book were the section headings, which I couldn't help but include here...
Now that I'm reading them in this singular context, I think Dani Alexander could use this to distill the content of her novel into some art of existential poem...
(view spoiler)[
Fucking Bunny Slippers
Not a Cock Sucking Fixation
Pricks and Bunnies
Douchebag of the Year Award
We Played Football Together, They Can’t Be Gay

Denial. How fucking works it?
Austin or Alex or Idiot
Booyah!
Neutral Schmeutral

Theme Of The Day: Prostitutes
We Tested Negative For Hepatitis
Oh, Shit. Oh, Shit. Have I Mentioned: Oh, Shit!?
I Did Not Have Sexual Relations With That Man. Yet

How to Interrogate A Prostitute. Or Not
How to Date a Prostitute
She Left With The Only Bottle of Soy Sauce
It’s Easy To Be Brave When No One But The Dead Can Hear
How To Lock Yourself in A Closet without Realizing It

Endorphins, Escapism, Enough!
Hump Day!
My Father, The Anti-Hero
Once I Got Over Him Being a Scumsucking Criminal
Unf Unf Unf
Dave

Thirteen Years Too Long
Peter
My Job Sucked Sometimes
You
I Am Now Fully Embracing The Gay

Holy Fucking Christ, Dear Sweet Mother of God
He Was Nothing Like What I Thought
Falling
Lips. That is all.
Austin’s Epic Intuition Fail
FUCK!

Austin Glass-Fuckup of the Year
Two Epiphanies in Less Than An Hour. I’m On A Roll.
Temper, Temper
Revelations and Bruised Egos
You’re Invited to the Wedding
Givin' It Before Gettin’ It— Always Beat Them To the Punch
Suspension Without Pay

Who’s Using Whom?
Getting to Know Your Local Sociopath
Peter— Age Twelve
Jealousy, Thy Name is Austin
Johnny Walker and Austin Glass: A Love Story

I Will Never Drink Again. I Need a Drink.
I AM My Own Worst Enemy
Awkward. Life is Awkward.
Maybe I’m Dating the Sociopath?
Frotting Should Replace Baseball as the National Pastime

Gay Sex 101 With Professor Peter
Dear God, I’ll Take That Lobotomy Now. Thanks, —Austin
Uh— Help
My Ass is A No Fly Zone
What’s That You Say?

Three Against One— And Not in the Fun Way
Everybody Hurts
The Lying Onion
Revenge is Best Served Using an Albanian Woman and the Sociopath She Calls Son
Home Alone VI — Avoiding Mother and Son
My Ex-Girlfriend Was Right— Men Do Suck

Understanding Everything— Unfortunately
How to Win Friends and Alienate Albanian Table-lovers
Whore-Colored Glasses
Blow Job or Coffee?
Cai Redefines Dork

Did I Just Agree to More Pussy?
Demons
Indebted to a Fucking Hairball With the Crazies
Frankenstein Ass

Hospital Admissions
Hump Day Goes Down in Flames
Driving While Intoxicated
My Father, The Philandering Asshole
Would It Be Okay If I Stomped My Foot Until Someone Let Me Fucking Shower?
Peter’s Trick

My Ass!
When had I become so self-involved? Answer: always
People Should Be What They Look Like, Dammit!
Austin Glass Starring in: Screwed Without Orgasm
Career Plague

Predictions and Predicaments
Bedraggled and Empathizing with a Cat. Where’s My Gun?
Lectures Make Me Hard
Gay Sex Three, Straight Sex Nil
The Truth Sucks. And It Is Awesome.

He Loves Me. He Loves Me N— Fuck This.
The Solution To All Problems is a Blow Job
Dreams Interrupting Fantasies
Everyone’s a Critic
Schizophrenic News
Half-Wit’s End
Oh, Yay. Peter Pissed at Someone Else For a Change
Rapid Shift in Parenting

How to Adopt a Teenager Without Your Consent
Arturo Sees More Action Than Reality TV
Trust Is An Illusion

Tourette’s is Contagious
The Things I Do For You
Can’t Anything Just Be Easy?
Would Penis Bullets Hurt?
Breathe and think — (Of 1001 Ways to Shut Darryl Up)
Cai is Going To Military School When This is Done

Maybe I Should Remove the Cummerbund
Never Ending Story
Popularity is Overrated
I Love You, Man
True Irony Is Lost on the Idiots
And All I Got Was This Stupid Cat
Sleep. Sleep Would Be Good Here

Thinking About Anything But Peter
Great. Now I Hate Hospitals
Good Doggy
Running On Empty
52:14
I Might As Well Grow a Vagina with All This Sharing

Checking Out
Picking Up The Peace
Don’t Look At Me, I’m Not Even Here
Questioning the Gay
Whatever It Takes
Are You My Mother?
Baggage for Two, Please

Ass Hair Spawns the Weirdest Discussions
DWS— Driving While Stunned
(hide spoiler)]