A Story or Two to Tell (Stories to tell Book #1)

Alan Crawford’s A Story or Two to Tell is exactly what it promises two twisted, entertaining, and wildly imaginative tales that pull you in like a late-night TV binge you never meant to start, but can’t stop. I went into this book unsure of what to expect, and I came out feeling like I’d been on a chaotic but thoroughly enjoyable ride through the author’s sharp and warped imagination.

The first story is equal parts satire, grit, and dark humor. Crawford weaves together an unlikely mix of elements reluctant but ridiculously attractive food operators, outlaw biker gangs who clearly didn’t get the compliance memo, cult-ish church leaders, and even adult entertainment business owners. You’d think it would be too much, but somehow, it works. It’s the kind of story that keeps unfolding in layers, with each turn making you go, “Wait, what?” and “Did he really just write that?” It’s complicated, yes but that’s half the fun. There’s a strong undercurrent of absurdity and clever social commentary that gives it an edge.

The second story dives headfirst into darker territory, with gruesome murders and a disturbing (yet captivating) exploration of the human psyche. This part is definitely not for the faint-hearted. The killer’s motivations, though disturbing, are oddly compelling, and Crawford doesn’t hold back. It's gritty and graphic but purposefully so it forces the reader to confront some uncomfortable truths about obsession, desire, and justice.

One thing I really appreciated was the way Crawford doesn’t try to be overly polished. He embraces his voice sarcastic, dark, funny, and occasionally juvenile and that makes the experience feel honest. There’s a playfulness to the way he tells these stories, almost like he’s reading them aloud to a room full of elderly residents and watching their shocked expressions with glee. And when he mentions this growing audience at the aged care complex, it adds a layer of charm and self-awareness that made me smile. It’s like the stories are performative, built to entertain and provoke at once.

It’s clear that Crawford has absorbed a lifetime of media TV, movies, books and he’s distilled that into something completely his own. Yes, it’s fiction. Yes, it’s exaggerated. And yes, it might seem immature at times, but that’s part of the book’s charm. He doesn’t pretend to be writing “high literature”; instead, he leans into the chaotic, the awkward, and the downright strange. That honesty is refreshing.

A Story or Two to Tell is the kind of book that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and yet it sneaks up on you with moments that are unexpectedly sharp and clever. If you enjoy dark humor, a bit of blood, some satire, and stories that flirt with the edge of ridiculousness but never fall off, then this is a gem worth picking up.

I finished it hoping that Crawford really does have more planned because I’d happily read another story or two.

Reading A Story or Two to Tell by Alan Crawford feels like sitting across from someone who's lived a hundred lives or at least imagined them all in vivid, unapologetic detail. These two stories, though wildly different in tone and content, are bound by a singular voice: one that is wry, brutally honest, darkly comic, and surprisingly tender in the oddest moments.

The first tale, laced with satire and absurdity, spins a chaotic dance between food operators (who are almost too charming for their own good), biker gangs with a flagrant disregard for rules, cult-like churches, and even adult venues. It sounds like the setup to a bad joke but Crawford somehow balances it all with a kind of absurd genius. I found myself chuckling at the ridiculousness, but also quietly nodding at the truths hidden between the lines. Beneath the outlandish characters and tangled plotlines, there’s a quiet commentary on how messy life can be when power, image, and control are at play.

Then the second story hits and it hits hard. The tone shifts from playful to haunting. What begins as a mystery slowly unravels into something far darker, more disturbing. Crawford doesn’t hold your hand through the violence or the psychology of the killer he just lets it unfold, daring you to look away. But you won’t. I didn’t. Because even in the horror, there’s something almost poetic about the way pain and desire are laid bare. It’s raw, unsettling, and deeply human.

What surprised me most was the framing the idea of telling these stories aloud to an audience in an aged care complex. It sounds humorous on the surface, and it is, but there's something beautifully intimate about that image too. Like stories told at the end of the road, where truth and fiction start to blur, and you're left with whatever memories feel the most alive. Crawford plays with that line, and in doing so, creates something that feels both unhinged and oddly nostalgic.

The writing is fearless. It’s not polished in the conventional sense, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s real. It pulses with the energy of someone who isn’t writing to impress but to tell the truth, even if that truth is dressed in madness. There’s a strange comfort in that. You get the sense that Crawford isn’t trying to be anyone but himself dark humor, warped imagination, and all.

By the time I finished the book, I wasn’t just entertained. I felt strangely moved. These stories won’t be for everyone. They’re a little crude, a little shocking, and definitely not your typical cozy read. But if you let them in, if you read between the lines, they just might leave a mark.

I hope Crawford has many more stories to tell. I’ll be here, ready to listen.

Alan Crawford’s “A Story or Two to Tell” is a memoir-fiction hybrid that doesn’t apologize for its rough edges. The Australian author follows an aging former Environmental Health Officer reflecting on his career from an aged care facility, spinning tales that range from bureaucratic absurdities to personal mishaps with equal irreverence.

The narrator’s voice carries the book—sardonic, unfiltered, and oddly compelling despite his many flaws. Crawford structures the book as a series of interconnected stories prompted by conversations with a caregiver, creating a unique story structure that feels natural rather than forced. The episodic approach works well for material that jumps between different topics from one page to the next.

Crawford’s strength lies both in his original voice and in his willingness to present his protagonist without heroic gloss. The narrator is crude, politically incorrect, and often self-serving, yet Crawford finds moments of genuine insight within this coarseness. His observations about bureaucratic dysfunction and social hypocrisy land more often than not because they come from someone who’s clearly lived through the frustrations he describes.

The workplace stories provide the book’s best material. Crawford transforms mundane health inspections and administrative battles into genuinely funny scenarios that reveal larger truths about institutional incompetence. The emotional core emerges through the narrator’s relationships, particularly with his partner Michelle. These quieter moments provide necessary balance to the more outrageous anecdotes, though Crawford occasionally struggles to maintain this equilibrium.

Crawford’s prose style mimics oral storytelling effectively, complete with hilarious tangents and asides that feel conversational rather than literary. This approach serves the material well, though it sometimes leads to pacing issues where certain parts drag while others feel rushed. The book succeeds as both entertainment and social commentary, though it’s not subtle about either goal. Crawford clearly has axes to grind regarding government inefficiency and social pretension, and it is clear the line between him and his narrator is somewhat blurred.

“A Story or Two to Tell” will appeal to readers comfortable with profanity, political incorrectness, and narrative experimentation. It’s not particularly deep or transformative, but it’s honest about its limitations. Crawford has written a solid collection of stories that entertain while offering glimpses of larger truths about aging, work, and human nature.

At only 66 pages, the book delivers what it promises—unvarnished stories from someone who’s lived through enough to fill several memoirs. For readers seeking authentic voices over polished prose, Crawford provides exactly that.