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Less Than Hero, by S.G. Browne
PDF Ebook Less Than Hero, by S.G. Browne
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With the razor-sharp satire that earned him rave reviews for Big Egos and Lucky Bastard, among others, S.G. Browne delivers another irresistible read, about an unlikely band of heroes who use their medical complications to gain fame, confront villains, and bring their own unique brand of justice to New York City.
Faster than a spreading rash! More powerful than dry heaves! Able to put villains to sleep with a single yawn!
Convulsions. Nausea. Headaches. Sudden weight gain. For the pharmaceutical soldiers on the front lines of medical science—volunteers who test experimental drugs for cash—these common side effects are a small price to pay to defend your right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of antidepressants.
Lloyd Prescott, thirty-year-old professional guinea pig and victim of his own inertia, is the first to notice the bizarre, seemingly implausible consequences of years of testing not-quite-legal drugs: his lips go numb, he becomes overwhelmed with exhaustion, and instantly a stranger crumples into a slumbering heap before him. Under cover of night, Lloyd and his guinea pig friends band together to project their debilitating side effects onto petty criminals who prey upon the innocent. When a horrible menace with powers eerily similar to their own threatens the city, only one force can stop this evil: the handful of brave men who routinely undergo clinical trials.
“One of America’s best satiric novelists” (Kirkus Reviews), S. G. Browne fills the prescription for a hilarious and biting commentary on our overmedicated society. Citizens, rest assured that tonight, no matter your ailment—anxiety, depression, super villains—there’s a pill to save the day.
- Sales Rank: #1166749 in Books
- Published on: 2015-03-17
- Released on: 2015-03-17
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 8.25" h x 1.00" w x 5.31" l, .0 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 368 pages
Review
"Wickedly sharp and wildly entertaining. S.G. Browne is one of today's very best writers." (New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Maberry)
Readers with a certain seasonal sensibility—one that renders zombies appropriate fare no matter the date on the calendar—will be shouting Ho! Ho! Ho!” (USA Today)
“If your idea of ‘heart-warming’ involves an organ roasting on a stick, I Saw Zombies Eating Santa Claus is the perfect holiday tale.” (WashingtonPost.com)
“Hilarious, horrifying…a must for anyone who can't get enough of the undead.” (San Jose Mercury News)
“An endearing storyline….Get out your wallet and secure I Saw Zombies Eating Santa Claus for your nearest and dearest zombie freaks.” (SF Weekly)
“Dark, bizarre, very funny, and yes, with a bit of sentimentality thrown in, I Saw Zombies Eating Santa Claus is the perfect Christmas read for those who like VERY black comedy in their holiday reading.” (Feathered Quill)
"Springboarding off a traditional noir framework, Browne delivers an insightful, intriguing tale....With twists aplenty, this fast-paced adventure succeeds as both a hard-boiled homage and a paranormal romp." (Publishers Weekly (starred review & Pick of the Week))
"Browne hits the funny bone hard....Smartly constructed fiction...that sets it apart from the crowd." (Kirkus Reviews (starred review))
"Full of witty writing and hilarious adventures...I laughed out loud many times. Read the book: it will be your good fortune." (New York Times bestselling author Kevin J. Anderson)
"Lucky Bastard is wonderful San Francisco noir, full of humor, irony, hot women, and cranial trauma. What more could you ask for in a book? The titular bastard may be in for a very bad day, but Browne's readers are the lucky ones." (New York Times bestselling author Christopher Golden)
"A very clever novel....Nick [Monday] is a likable narrator...and the story’s lightly noirish feel gives the proceedings an evocatively gritty texture. This one will appeal equally to readers of mysteries and fantasies." (Booklist)
“[LESS THAN HERO] wittily and winningly mixes commentary on the state of the pharmaceutical industry (and American healthcare in general) with a tale of C-level superheroes…it works equally as a critique of a broken and corrupt pharmaceutical industry, one in which medicines often exacerbate the problems they're designed to cure while introducing new ones.” (Publishers Weekly)
“[LESS THAN HERO] is a social-satire-meets-amateur-superhero saga that deftly skewers the money-grubbing slickness of the pharmaceutical industry—as well as American culture’s propensity to pop a pill for absolutely anything that ails us, regardless of how outrageously unpredictable the side effects may be…This is a funny, inventive exploration of the dangers inherent in our overmedicated culture. Readers who enjoy a dash of sharp wit with their comic-book shenanigans should enjoy tagging along on Lloyd’s everyday-superhero exploits.” (Kirkus Reviews)
“Browne, the author of such satirical novels as the very clever Lucky Bastard(2012), tackles the superhero genre in this hugely entertaining story of a bunch of regular guys who find out they have rather bizarre powers. These guys probably wouldn’t know each other at all if it weren’t for their unusual way of earning money: doing drug trials for pharmaceutical companies. Over time, it seems that the side effects of the various drugs have mutated our heroes. Now one of them can make other people go into violent convulsions; another can make people throw up; another—the story’s narrator, Lloyd Prescott—can make people fall asleep. But will these admittedly offbeat abilities be enough to stop the unknown villains who are robbing ordinary citizens of their memories and causing them to suffer hallucinations? Can Lloyd reveal his superpower to his girlfriend without causing her to dump him? Will Lloyd ever give up being a guinea pig? It’s fair to say that you’ve never read a superhero story quite like this one; it’s also fair to say that readers who enjoy good, weird fun will love [LESS THAN HERO].” (Booklist)
About the Author
S.G. Browne is the author of Big Egos, Lucky Bastard, Breathers, Fated, and the Breathers novella I Saw Zombies Eating Santa Claus, as well as the ebook collection Shooting Monkeys in a Barrel. He lives in San Francisco. Follow the author on Twitter and Facebook, or visit SGBrowne.com.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Less Than Hero
I’m sitting on a chair in an examination room with a disposable thermometer in my mouth and a blood pressure cuff around my upper left arm. On the walls around me are posters of vascular systems and reproductive organs. Fluorescent lights wash away any shadows. A clock ticks away the afternoon. Outside the closed door, someone asks for a breath mint.
My lips have gone numb.
This has never happened to me before. Usually I don’t get anything more than cotton-mouthed, drowsy, or light-headed. Occasionally I develop rashes or feel like I have food poisoning. More often than not, I’ll get a headache. Nothing major. We’re not talking migraine and vomiting. That would be serious. What I get is pretty typical, nothing 400 milligrams of ibuprofen won’t fix.
But numbness in my lips? That’s definitely a first.
The medical technician sitting across from me removes the thermometer and the cuff, then records my temperature and my blood pressure on a chart attached to a clipboard.
The technician is male. Mid-thirties. Prematurely gray. He has a zit coming in on his chin. His breath smells like nachos.
“How are you feeling today?” he asks.
“Good,” I say, though my lips feel like they’re made of rubber.
“Any problems with your vision?” he asks, looking down at his clipboard.
I shake my head and say no.
“Cognitive functions?”
No.
“Speech?”
No.
“Numbness or tingling in any of your extremities?”
Technically my lips aren’t my extremities, but I tell him just in case and he writes it down in his notes.
“Have you experienced any nausea or flu-like symptoms?” he asks.
No.
“Memory loss?”
No.
“Hallucinations? Seizures? Rashes?”
Sometimes just hearing the word rash makes me want to itch, but I answer in the negative three more times.
“Any bloating or rapid weight gain?” he asks.
No.
“Are you feeling dizzy or light-headed?”
Most of the time, the questions are the same.
Nausea. Headaches. Dizziness.
Frequently they’ll throw in night sweats or loss of appetite, with an occasional sinus inflammation and the odd sexual-performance question. But I’ve never been asked about an irregular heartbeat. Or renal failure.
“No,” I tell him. “No dizziness.”
The tech takes a few more minutes to run through the rest of his questions. By the time he sends me off for my blood and urine tests, my lips have returned to normal.
In another room, a phlebotomist wraps an elastic tourniquet around my arm and sterilizes the soft flesh just inside my left elbow.
The phlebotomist is female. Early forties. Blond with frosted tips. She’s had Botox injections around her eyes. Her breath smells like peppermint.
I’m not a big fan of needles. Even after more than five years, I still have to look away. So I take a deep breath and stare at the wall as she draws half a dozen blood samples into evacuated tubes. Normally before drawing samples, she’s supposed to ask a list of questions and record my answers on a form:
Am I on anticoagulation therapy?
Do I have a history of fits?
Do I have any bleeding disorders?
Have I fasted?
Instead, she asks me the questions while taking the samples, except for the one about fasting. This test doesn’t require me to fast. I’m not a big fan of fasting. I’m not Baha’i or Buddhist, and I’ve never spent forty days and nights on a mountain with God, so abstaining from food and drink has never been my strong suit.
After the phlebotomist draws my blood, she hands me a sterile plastic specimen container and points me to the bathroom.
“Try to catch the urine in midstream,” she says. “It makes for a cleaner sample.”
I nod as if this is something I’ve never heard before. As if this is my first time.
Urine samples are standard procedure. While I’m not always asked to give blood, I almost always have to leave a sample of my urine. I’ve heard some guys have a hard time peeing on command into a cup. I’ve never had a problem, so I provide a midstream catch, deposit the specimen container in the cabinet, grab my backpack, and head to the waiting room—not a waiting room in Brooklyn with soft-cushioned seats and diffused lighting and copies of Rolling Stone and National Geographic, but a waiting room in Queens with hard plastic stacking chairs and fluorescent overhead lights and copies of Us and People.
Randy stands at the front desk, hitting on the receptionist.
The receptionist is female. Late twenties. Jet-black hair. She’s wearing too much foundation. Her breath smells like cloves.
“Cardio is my nirvana.” Randy clasps his hands behind his head and flexes his biceps. “I run every day. I love working up a good sweat.”
Randy is a six-foot-tall, two-hundred-pound walking erection. In the three years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him pass on the chance to chat up a woman.
“I hear sweat’s a big turn-on for women,” I say.
“Lloyd, my man!” Randy gives me a bro shake followed by a pound hug, even though we’ve seen each other almost every day for the past week.
Randy may not be subtle, but he wears his affability, like his muscles, for everyone to see.
“Where’s Vic and Isaac?” I ask, looking around the otherwise empty waiting room.
“Totally Eagles,” Randy says.
Randy likes to make esoteric references to song and album titles by classic rock bands, leaving out the titles and figuring everyone knows what he’s talking about.
“Already gone,” he says, with a wink to the receptionist.
“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Prescott.” She ignores Randy and hands me some discharge literature and an envelope with my name on it. “We’ll see you for your follow-up on Tuesday.”
“What about me?” Randy asks. “I’m free Friday night.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ballard. I don’t date patients or clients. Plus I have a boyfriend.”
“What if I wasn’t a patient or a client?” Randy asks.
“I’d still have a boyfriend.”
“Que sera, sera.” Randy shrugs and turns to me, his face lighting up with a smile as big as Long Island. “Hey, wanna grab some grub?”
Most helpful customer reviews
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
We relish the news of our heroes, forgetting...we are extraordinary to someone too." Helen Hays
By michael a. draper
S. G. Browne has written a contemporary, change of pace novel that packs a strong message in a wrapper of fun.
"Less than Hero" is a social commentary introducing Lloyd Prescott, a thirty-year-old professional guinea pig. For the past five years he's participated in over 150 clinical trials.
The pharmaceutical companies have volunteers who test experimental drugs for cash. In a typical month, Lloyd can make over $3,000. He also has a part-time job where he stands in Central Park with various signs for handouts. One states that he will accept money for abuse. People call him all sorts of things and he just thanks them as he accepts their money.
Lloyd and a group of five friends who are also human guinea pigs. They wonder if all the drugs they put in their bodies could have any effect. This is answered in a humorous fashion as Lloyd and his friend, Randy, are on the J train to Manhattan. Three punks enter the train and begin harassing a homeless man. Eventually Randy tells them to leave the man alone. Lloyd is expecting the worse but stands beside his friend facing the punks. Lloyd nicknames them Cue Ball, Cornrows and Soul Patch.
As the train pulls into Essex Street station, Cue Ball's skin turns bright red and blotchy and he becomes covered with hives. His friends back away from him and Lloyd and Randy casually depart from the train.
There are many parts of the story that had me laughing out loud. Lloyd and his friends all exhibit various powers. Lloyd has the ability to fall asleep before him, another in the group causes diarrhea and vomiting.
The men decide to use their powers to protect the innocent. Examples of this are funny and funnier.
To add to the uniqueness, Lloyd's girlfriend is a human statue. She stands in Central Park as a Fairy, sprinkling pixie dust on those who leave her a contribution.
The characters are well described, the scenes are most entertaining and the story is a fun romp and is a critique of a broken and corrupt pharmaceutical industry.
For those wanting a good story and something different, this is the book I recommend.
I received a free book for my honest review.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
A Fun Read
By Carl Alves
In Less Than Hero, S.G. Browne presents an entirely different take on the superhero genre than anything I have ever read before. Typically, superheroes have cool powers like the ability to fly, or super strength, or speed. In this novel, Lloyd and his band of heroes do things like put people to sleep, make them develop rashes all over their bodies, and blow up like human version of the Goodyear blimp. Not exactly an astounding array of powers. Not to mention the way they obtain their powers is quite odd, being the guinea pigs of pharmaceutical company clinical trials. And what would a superhero novel be without supervillains to counter them? In this case, the villains can steal people’s memories and create hallucinations. One thing is certain, Browne will never write a novel that isn’t entirely fascinating and interesting to read.
As usual, Browne writes in an easy going and professional manner. It’s always a breeze to read his books, something I appreciate. The premise is full of intrigue. I like the development of the characters’ powers and how they go about using it. These are unconventional heroes so it’s fitting that they should have an unconventional way of developing and using their abilities. There’s a lot to like in this novel. One area that I thought it falls short is that there is a lot of social commentary about the role of pharmaceutical drugs and how they are used in society. I don’t have a problem with that, but I did think it was a little heavy handed, and it often took me out of the story because those sections were lengthy. This is a cool novel that you will want to read.
Carl Alves - author of Reconquest: Mother Earth
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Super words about a hero who's a little less-than-super...
By Michael F. Maddox
Lloyd Prescott is lost. He drifts through his life aimlessly, too absorbed in simply getting by to ask any big questions. Then, destiny strikes and he becomes a superhero....of a sort.
To the lover of alternative superhero stories, LESS THAN HERO presents a ground-level view of a man growing to understand the responsibility of power. But the book takes no high-handed moral tone; the absurdity of a life burdened by an unlikely superpower takes center stage, and the reader wallows with Lloyd (B.A., Marketing) from clinic guinea pig to panhandler to clueless boyfriend. The author truly gets inside the head of a neurotic thirtysomething--a man lost in a place that many of us have been to--and then aptly leads him to a resolution of purpose. And it's not the sparkly-clean resolution we have come to expect...there are casualties along the way.
LESS THAN HERO is well-written light fiction with a good message about life and destiny. It's funny, quickly-read, and doesn't insult the reader by tidily wrapping up all the loose ends. I'd recommend it to fans of SOON I WILL BE INVINCIBLE and A ONCE-CROWDED SKY as a similar perspective on superherodom, but it would not put-off any lover of light comedic fiction.
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