Where pop culture meets geek culture and they make out a little.
Books
I deal best with stress by ignoring it.
Jul 28th
I could write about how just two weeks ago my wife, out of the blue, got offered her dream job in Seattle (we currently live in So. Cal., for those keeping score) and now we are moving next week. I could go on about how we don’t actually have a place to live in Seattle…with much detail on the two days the wife and I spent their only to see our first choice fall through, and even more detail on how she was in the Pacific Northwest yesterday (flying home today) again, trying to locate a place for us to live. I could go on about how, as yet, I am unsure about my prospects; re: making money. Thursday is my last at the current bookmines so… And then last night, Bella says that she doesn’t want to leave our house where, in her words, “everything is perfect.”
But rather than dwell on all that…I mean, that shit is stressful…I’d rather dwell on one of the books I’m reading right now, Unseen Academicals. I’ve decided that as the number of novels Pratchett will write is now definitely finite (for many years I harbored the, some would say “unrealistic,” hope that Pratchett would live/write forever) that I must parse them out over the years. So that, at least for some amount of time, I still have Pratchett novels yet to read (I haven’t read any of the Tiffany Aching ones, for instance). So the other day I finally picked up Unseen Academicals and damnit, if Pratchett didn’t write the most perfect novel for me. It’s a discworld novel about football! I didn’t think it was possible that Pratchett could have ever topped Night Watch. But, as in many things, I have been proved wrong.
For whatever reason, I’ve been reading a lot lately. Maybe I’m trying to “catch up” from having read almost nothing (well, nothing that wasn’t school related) during the past two semesters. In any event, I also just finished reading God’s Problem by Bart Erhman, which is essentially a discussion about various ways in which the Bible deals with the problem of suffering. The long and short of the Erhman book is…
spoiler alert here, if you’re interested in reading it…
that after many years of wrestling with this issue, Ehrman eventually gave up on his Christianity. What is so fascinating to me, however, is that there is a moment where Unseen Academicals intersects with the ideas in God’s Problem.
Specifically, at one point in the book Lord Vetinari (tyrant of Ankh-Morpork) says (and apologies to Sir Pratchett as I don’t hav ethe book right in front of me so this is a paraphrase) “Some say evil exists in the world so that good can be illuminated. There is more to the argument, though I’ve never heard it because I am too busy laughing out loud.”
The final consideration of why evil exists, in Ehrman’s work, is that same idea…that we wouldn’t know what “good” is if “evil” did not exist as its counterpart. Ehrman than uses some extended passages from The Brothers Karamazov to support his argument that, as an intellectual and moral consideration, such a defense of evil/suffering is repugnant.
So for the few of you that saw my facebook update re: Pratchett’s genius, this is what I was talking about. It is things like this that motivate me to get down with the business of actually finishing my first book (not just letting the rough draft sit around) and make some real attempts to get it published.
Perhaps Seattle is just the place for something like that….
The Incredible Shrinking Man
Nov 12th
“A hero is a man who does what he can” – Romain Rolland
I’ll take the opportunity to use this week’s theme as a means to write about a great classic that I recently read for the first time.
“The Incredible Shrinking Man” is the best horror story I’ve ever read. I suppose that’s not saying a whole lot since I haven’t been very heavily through the genre, but when you read it, you can feel its potency. I saw the old film adaptation (1957) a few years ago. It was good in the way a lot of old black and white sci-fi movies are, but was also lacking in a way those movies tend to. I also noticed something online that said there’s going to be another version being made with Eddie Murphy *shudder*.
Scott Carey, by way of extremely unfortunate chance, is exposed to elements that make him begin to shrink 1/7th of an inch, daily. Seems like a fairly straightforward sci-fi theme, right? I thought so for a long time too. You add the infamous black widow to the mix and maybe the family cat (giants now), and you’ve got two monsters that push the story into the realm of horror. This is what the story is like when you watch the movie. It’s all (more or less) left this way. The book gets into Scott’s mind, body, and soul.
The chapters in the book jump back and forth between tiny Scott’s survival tactics in the basement and the events (starting with the beginning of his shrinking) leading up to them.
The more Scott shrinks, the more self-conscious, paranoid, and defensive he becomes. On top of that, everything becomes a life or death situation. In all his frustration, he can’t even safely take a walk down the street. Soon after, he can’t go outside at all. Sexual frustrations also take their toll, making for a couple of rather uncomfortable, yet plausible scenes. Scott’s alienation from the world he once knew is so sudden and horrifying and written so thoroughly and convincingly that it almost seems a relief for him to spend his time doing something as simple as hiding from a spider that wants to eat him.
Scott has the problems with his wife, money, and people wanting to treat him like a sideshow replaced by things like becoming deafened by the water heater kicking on, being eaten by a giant black widow, and starving to death (amongst tons of other horrifying possibilities). Scott keeps things in order though. He creates makeshift clothing and a place for sleep and shelter. He marks his height on the wall daily, knowing the day will come that he will shrink that last 7th of an inch into nothing, and thinking about what he needs to accomplish before he becomes too small to accomplish it (and if it’s worth the effort at all). It becomes such an immense strain for him though, that he continually asks himself why he doesn’t just give up and die. Even when he convinces himself that he has had enough horrible luck and he doesn’t care about anything anymore, he continues to try to survive. All he has left in life becomes about what he can do…what he must do for survival.
Despite overwhelming heartbreak, terror, and misfortune, Scott Carey does not give up. That’s what makes him a hero.
5/5 - Punched in the face by AWESOME!
Lev Grossman’s “The Magicians,” or More Inventiveness than I Have
Nov 3rd
I have long been aware of who Lev Grossman was, author of the bestselling novel The Codex, and general “nerd” blogger for Time, he seems to have, essentially, the life I desire.
That said, I had not read any of his fiction until a promo copy of his newest novel The Magicians came my way (thank you, again, gods of the bookmines). I glanced at the back and my interest was piqued by the odd Harry Potter comparison made by George RR Martin. Opening the book to a random page, as is my custom when considering if I will take a book home or not, I came across both the words “prefect” and “4th year” in the same paragraph. The Potter comparison, then, was not overblown.
Well, I like books about magic, and schools, and magic schools. While I didn’t think there was much to be done with the subject, in a post Potter world, I still took it home. My book hoarding instincts often trump all other considerations.
I did begin to read it, though. Grossman has an unassuming style; almost conversational without being annoying or overly stupid. The main character, Quentin, an over achiever with no discernible confidence, sense of self worth, or familial relationships of note was fairly relatable…to me at least. Now I’ve never been recruited to go to a secret test session for a remote and highly selective magical college but I sure did understand the psyche of Quentin.
So, again, the Potter comparisons begin. Harry gets into Hogwarts, essentially, because of genetics. He is a wizard because he is a wizard. Well, Brakebills (the college in The Magicians) doesn’t work that way. You might have the potential, but unless you can pass the entrance exam, you don’t get in…or even remember that you took the exam in the first place. And there begins the differences that are dramatic between Potter and The Magicians. It would be easy to say that this novel is like Potter, but American, and since the characters are in college, there’s a lot more sex, alcohol, drugs, and nihilism. But that description short changes the true depth that Grossman understands the depression that can affect the highly gifted. Imagine, you dream your whole life that you can achieve something more than is “planned” out for you. You find out that, in fact, you can learn to use real magic…really could walk naked through the antarctic for days and survive, for instance…but then you realize that your life is still meaningless. How much worse would you feel, knowing you have such power but it doesn’t change the fact that your life means nothing? The understanding Grossman demonstrates of human consciousness coming to terms with the apparent arbitrary nature of the universe is both deep and disturbing. Probably more disturbing, in fact, in light of the fact that these characters really could fly to the moon if they so wished.
Besides taking a premise that was made popular by another (magic school) and turning it on its head, Grossman also pays homage to one of the foundations of fantasy literature: Narnia. In his book Narnia is replaced by a land known as Fillory. The Fillory books, favorite reading of Quentin even after he starts doing real magic, were written in the 1930’s by a man named Christopher Plover and starred a varying cast of children from the Chatwin family. The books, the reader discovers in time, are more than just childrens reading, though, and play an integral role in Quentin’s life after he leaves Brakebills.
The New York Times review of the book states that, “Perhaps a fantasy novel meant for adults can’t help being a strange mess of effects.” This demonstrates a serious lack of understanding on the reviewer’s part. Either he believes that fantasy must be cut and dry (i.e., good v evil, black v white) or that it can only be for children (and, again, fall into strict categories). The best fantasy, the best fiction, is fuzzy…like the world. If magic were a real force that humans could control (though have little real understanding of, as expressed in the book) then Grossman has given the reader the most true to life rendering of it possible. Of course it is messy because life, and humans, are messy.
In the end, I did not feel overly sympathetic toward Quentin, and I’m not sure I was supposed to. Yes, eventually, he winds up understanding that his story was nothing more than the by-product of another character’s attempt to right a terrible wrong. But even that, as is most often the case, was only the outcome of an even earlier evil… But, sometimes, we are just tools in someone else’s story. Were there moments when I felt sad for Quentin, certainly. Would I have made his choices at the end, maybe. Does that make me want to be him, not necessarily. But isn’t that what adulthood, and humanity, is all about? Whether or not one can perform feats of astonishing power, don’t we all hope to empathize with the pain of others, even if we choose to deal with that pain in a different way?
I’m Told There is a Storm, and That It May or May Not Be Gathering
Nov 3rd
I bought Knife of Dreams the day it came out in 2005. Even though I was in graduate school, and should have been reading my homework, I finished the book in just a few days. I had been waiting for its release, literally, for years. To prepare, I spent dozens of hours, in the weeks leading up to its release, re-introducing the Wheel of Time series to my memory with the help of EWoT (the Encyclopedia Wheel of Time for the unintiated).
When I was done with the book (#11, mind you, in the Wheel of Time series…not counting the one prequel) I realized that almost nothing, save for in the last 50 or so pages, actually happened in that damn book…and it was 800 fucking pages! Even the actual Knife of Dreams, the item for which the BOOK WAS NAMED, only made a minor appearance. I mean, seriously!?
I vowed, then and there, to never again subject myself to pain of reading a Wheel of Time novel.
And then Robert Jordan was diagnosed with a rare disease.
I’ll admit that my first thought wasn’t “oh god, I hope he’s OK” so much as it was “oh god, how will he finish the series.” I’m not exactly proud of that, but you know, I doubt I was the only one to think it. Yes, it is tragic that he died just a year and half after publicly revealing his diagnosis. I like to think, though, that my reaction was in no small part because of how much Jordan’s work had cemented itself in my mind. Yes, I had “sworn” not to finish the series, but when presented with the actual possibility of not being able to finish the series I freaked the fuck out.
I’m not saying there is a causal link between my worship of an author and serious health issues, but I will say that after Douglas Adams, Jordan, and Terry Pratchett, well…Neil Gaiman, Tim Powers, and James P Blaylock should all see the doctor.
By all accounts, Jordan fought the disease hard, but in the end, as these things generally turn out, the disease won.
So this guy Brandon Sanderson was chosen to finish the series.
Jordan, apparently, left very detailed notes on how the story was to finish. His claim that he would finish the series in 12 books, even if he had to write a 2000 page book for installment 12, was not far from the truth and Tor (the publisher) and Sanderson, decided to break the final arch of the story into three average size WoT books.
And so, as I write this, I’m just over 200 pages into the 766 that make up The Gathering Storm.
There was quite a bit of consternation amongst WoT fans over who would finish the series (before Sanderson was chosen). I, too, worried about who would step in to finish a 10,000 page series with 3000+ named characters.
Is Sanderson the equal of Jordan?
Shit, I don’t know. 200 pages in and I’d say the book reads like the rest of the series, all the main characters have, thus far, not done a whole lot and annoyed me with their overly complicated thought processes.
Sometimes I wonder why I kept reading past book 2.
On the one hand, every single character, even my mostest favoritest in the series (Mat, in case you were curious), is his/her own greatest obstacle. No two characters ever seem to have any meaningful communication. Even those who are all working toward the same goal…like defeating the Dark One in the Last Battle…work at cross purposes more often than not. After nearly 10,000 pages it can get really, really, really, fucking annoying.
But then again…isn’t that just how people are? I probably communicate effectively with my wife like 30% of the time and we aren’t on separate ends of the continent, being tortured, running into battles, fighting dark and foul monsters from the north…we just deal with dirty diapers and temper tantrums. The real genius of what Jordan did was take actual people that you might know in real life, the good and the bad, and throw them into some crazy ass fantasy world that is near its end. Even the most well intentioned WoT characters are selfish at times, make mistakes (even when trying to do what is right), and fail. But they also do some drastically heroic things, sacrifice (even their own lives), and fight and scrape. As a complex psychological study of humanity, I doubt I’ve read anything even remotely equal, in fiction, to the Wheel of Time.
It occurred to me, recently, that books are possibly the only form of entertainment where we, as fans, would worry so much when a new author takes over a series. There are, of course, things like D&D and Star Wars that are just written by loads of people by default. But something like WoT, which came from the mind of a single writer, and was shaped by that writer over the course of 10,000 pages, becomes less a series of fictional works and more an extension of that person. Novel writing in general, but long fantasy series writing in particular, is an iconoclastic endeavor the likes of which exists no where else in art.
Would the series be more satisfying if Jordan had finished it himself? I don’t know. At some point I believe works like this belong more to the fans than the creator and so we, the fans, are owed are closure.
The Staying Power of a Never-Ending Story
Oct 24th
A person’s memories are powerful things. The naturality of aging and maturing forces us into a constant state of change. I read something once about how close to an illusion all of life (as we know it) is. It stated that since the past and the future are not things we are experiencing, and that the present is not a stationary thing, it is very difficult to grasp things that we perceive as important in our lives. Memories are all we have. Being things of the past, memories seem like landmarks for the people we were at those times. Buoys drifting in a vast ocean of forgotten hours, days, and weeks. Memories alone tend to be rather static though. Physical inputs are what really electrifies memories. Movies, books, photos, and songs are some of the most common and easily accessible of these sensory inputs.
Though I remember events that happened in my childhood, what is difficult to remember is exactly how I felt at any given time. A fragment of it might return though, with the right physical input. A good example is the He-Man theme song. I used to watch that show all the time when I was 4 or 5 years old. One day, the show vanished. I didn’t hear or see anything of the original show for about 20 years. Then one day, I looked it up on Youtube and the opening theme was there. It felt weird to see and hear it (to say the least). Even now, just the “Filmation” sound effect at the beginning is like someone poking around in my brain with a popsicle stick. But above all the weirdness, it reminded me of simpler times.
I am not completely mature. I hope I never will be. And I find it unsettling when I see evidence that other people are. I find kids to be the most interesting, genuine, and creative people that exist. To lose all of that by growing is one of the most depressing things I can imagine, but some people can’t seem to help it. This is not to say that adults cannot be these things, but these are aspects commonly sacrificed to better conform to the adult world. They let their inner children die, or lock them away in the forgotten chambers of their hearts, often times becoming perpetual sourpusses.
I didn’t read much as a kid. I suppose I just wasn’t raised that way. I remember reading being encouraged in elementary school, but in a vague, disconnected way. No one told me about a specific book or why reading was a good thing, they just told me that reading was GOOD and reading a LOT was BETTER. So I mostly watched movies. One of the movies I loved the most as a kid was The NeverEnding Story. My family rented it a ton of times and I never got sick of it. So when I was in high school and had finally taken to reading, it was an obvious choice.
Something about watching the movie when I was little and reading the book when I was in high school really intensified the power of the story for me. Since the end of the movie is only the halfway point of the book, I got the opportunity to pick up where I left off with all of these characters I had already loved for years. It was an opportunity that is rarely afforded. It all reminded me of those nights watching the old vhs tape long before the many stress of high school and growing up. And I enjoyed it. On top of the obvious anti-stress memories attached to the story for me, it was really good. I have such a passion for intensely imaginative things, and the book is definitely of that category.
Bastian is a kid that likes to read and finds himself uncharacteristically swiping a book from an old bookstore owner. You read about Bastian, and as he reads The NeverEnding Story, you do too. Atreyu is the book’s protagonist. He is called upon to find a cure for the Childlike Empress, though he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. All he knows is he is to travel in one direction with no weapons and find the answer for himself. As Bastian reads the story, he realizes that certain characters in the book are aware of him, and eventually call upon him to help their world and become a part of the story. It is stated to Bastian that as he has shared the experiences of the characters in his book, others have shared his experiences in their book, and so on. Hence, “NeverEnding Story”.
In the sequel to the movie, Mr. Coreander (the bookstore owner) suggests something that had intrigued me. When Bastian scoffs and says that he has already read the NeverEnding Story, Mr. Coreander smiles and says “Ah, but have you ever read a book twice? Books change each time you read them” When I first saw this, I figured it was just a plot gimmick. I didn’t think about it much at first. Later on though, I understood that it isn’t the book that changes (like it does in the movie) it’s the reader that has changed. Everything seems different because of the changing way that you understand things. It took me a while to really understand how growing and learning changes your perception. Sometimes this can really kill a good sensory input for nostalgia, but it really depends on the amount you have learned and changed. I’ve found that even though I’m a bit different now, I can still remember how I perceived something when I was little.
As much as I enjoyed the book, I don’t remember a great deal of it now. I did begin to read it again though. I can only hope that reading it will continue to reawaken all the old memories. And so far, it has.
The Magic & Mystery of Miss A.K.
Oct 1st
Frank Portman has a thing for names. In his first released book, the delightful “King Dork”, the protagonist is a teen named Tom Henderson, although I don’t think he is called this even once in the whole book. Tom’s one-of-a-kind personality coupled with a hellish and hostile day-to-day experience known as “high school” afford him many a creative moniker. A couple of which are: Hender-fag, Chi-Mo, and Sheepie (among numerous others).
Another sweet running joke in “KD” is the continual re-naming of Hender-mo’s band, based on either something related to his current situation, or perhaps from nothing more than a vivid imagination and sense of humor on Portman and Henderson’s part. A couple of these gems include: “The Underpants Machine, The Stoned Marmadukes, Oxford English, and Balls Deep.”
I read KD abot a year ago, and recall it being a rather simple, enjoyable read with a sharp wit. There was some kind of blurb on the book about Portman’s next book, entitled “Andromeda Klein” and even a few pages of the beginning of it in the back of KD. I remember reading the sample, but not getting any concrete idea on what it would be like. I read “Andromeda Klein” recently, and it is like KD, except instead of having a high school-loser-punk-rock-mystery theme, It has a high school-loser-occultist-mystery theme, and if you haven’t already guessed, it’s about a girl named Andromeda Klein.
The first thing that comes to mind about the book is how very dense it is on the prominent subject matter of the occult. Andromeda surrounds herself with old and musty books written by the likes of Aleister Crowley and A.E. Waite. AK’s knowledge of tons of kinds of spells (of which I’ve already forgotten all of the names) really hits you in the face for the first quarter (or so) of the book. You can tell Portman did extensive research for this book, and he shows it. It’s a little overwhelming, but for the most part, remembering everything isn’t necessary.
When you couple the deluge of mystic names and rituals and books and spells (etc) with Portman’s humor and seemingly endless plays on words, it gets rather fun.
AK gets her fair share of alternate names, such as Man-dromeda and No-ass, but another lovely little play-on-words device is that AK can’t hear so well. And it leads to instances of people saying things like “bagel worm agony” (naked girl magazine), and her enemies calling her a “toe-ass butter sucking fish” ( fairly obvious). Atop all of this, there is AAK or “alternate Andromeda Klein”, better known as AK’s more confident and sarcastic inner monologue, which later becomes a full fledged character named “Huggy” (I think). And then there are the dreams, self induced and otherwise.
As complex as minor details in the story are, the major elements stay rather simple. AK is a misunderstood girl who is (very) into her own unique interests, and she’s trying to figure out reasons for things happening to her by utilizing those interests (tarot cards and various other mystical means). And she must attempt all this amongst a mom who is a chronic barger, an absent-for-no-clear-reason-ex?-boyfriend, a friend that continuously tries to set her up on dates, an evil book-abducting organization, a deceased best friend’s psychotic mom, and numerous other perilous entities and situations.
I read another review that said the book takes hold after the initial quarter or so. I agree with this. With the mystic info avalanche safely behind you, you might well become riveted by this slickly-written YA high school occult mystery.
4/5 - Nearly classic!
To War Against The Decline Of His Meridian
Aug 29th
The Phantom Cart by Salvador Dali (1933), used as the cover image for the first edition of Blood Meridian, Or The Evening Redness In The West.
Blood Meridian could have been nothing more than a catalog of violence, rather than a terrifying meditation on the atrocities committed by the Glanton Gang. Save for one, its characters revel in the murders they commit, and while writer Cormac McCarthy imbues their acts with a certain warped eloquence through his use of beautiful and highly descriptive prose that reflects this macabre celebration, he does not do so to merely glorify the violence. Nor does he judge it as a mindless act. His central proponent for violence, Judge Holden, informs us that war is the only true game, for risking death, it is the only game that “swallows up game, player, and all.” His meditations and explanations of the methodology he uses to vindicate himself and the rest of the scalp hunters’ acts, thereby liberating them from any apprehension they might have in committing them, is perhaps the most terrifying part of the book.
The book is based on the true story of a group of men led by John Joel Glanton, a former member of the U.S. Army during the mid-19th century, who was hired by Mexican governors to kill and scalp Indians on the borders of the United States and Mexico during 1849 and 1850. It follows a nameless protagonist only referred to as ‘the kid’ after he runs away from rural Tennessee at the age of fourteen, meeting up with the Glanton Gang two years later. McCarthy tells us that the kid can “neither read nor write and in him broods already a taste for mindless violence,” something we see in the second page as he has nightly fights with sailors in a bar until he’s shot in the back, just below his heart. He is essentially the perfect initiate for Judge Holden’s philosophy. Yet, that is the central conflict of the book, for while the kid rides and murders with the gang, his conscience is not completely free when he performs these acts. When given the duty of killing an injured member of the gang after everyone else has left, he cannot bring himself to do so. His reluctance undermines everything the Judge believes in.
Judge Holden is described as being about seven feet tall, lacking any hair growth and with the complexion of an albino and the face of an infant. He has traveled the world, speaks numerous languages, including an understanding for ancient and cryptic ones. An accomplished fiddler and dancer, it appears there isn’t anything he cannot subjugate and nor master; even time, as he hasn’t appeared to age when years have passed. He carries notebooks into which he sketches and makes notes of a variety of things he finds along the gang’s journey—a piece of armor, birds, insects—and after he’s done with them he destroys them. When asked why he does so, he explains that he wishes to remove the existence of these things from the “memory of man.” Only the Judge will hold the knowledge and understanding of their existence. As he explains later on, “Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent.” His desire is to be suzerain, or overlord, of the world. Nature is the only thing that can undermine him, because it is the only thing that exists independent of man’s will and desire. Nature, and as McCarthy demonstrates, the kid’s refusal to be seduced by Holden’s views and be carried off like a bride, as one of the characters remarks. Since it’s implied that the Judge rapes children, this is perhaps not to be taken as a flippant remark.
If you wish to be disturbed, then in the spirit of our “bring the pain” theme, here is a book whose characters not only “bring the pain,” but are also acutely aware of why they do so. Of some who enjoy it, and of some who are faintly disturbed by the prospect of it. A conversation with violence, so to speak.
5/5 - Punched in the face by AWESOME!
I am NOT KILIAN, or A Rambling, Non-Sensical Review of I Am Not Sidney Poitier by Percival Everett
Aug 7th
I have mentioned Percival Everett on the ol’ NR before. Once in passing and, more recently, to demonstrate the difference between good fiction writing and not so good fiction writing. I write this current post as an attempt to “review” Percival Everett’s newest book, I Am Not Sidney Poitier.
A SF Chronicle review of the very same book asks the questions:
Is any American writer as undervalued as Everett? Does anyone in America write funnier books?
The answer to both questions is no.
In fact, I’ll go one further and say that Percival Everett is the greatest living American writer of prose fiction. I say this, of course, as one who has not read every prose work of fiction from every living American writer. I have not, in fact, even read all of Everett’s work…but I claim it all the same.
I’ll just state it up front and say that I give I Am Not Sidney Poitier the highest of possible accolades…five out of five unicorns!
5/5 - Punched in the face by AWESOME!
Or, I give it 5/5 for me. I have previously read two other Everett works, Erasure (which is mentioned in this newest work and of which you can read 169 pages at that link) and A History of the African-American People [Proposed] by Strom Thurmond as Told by Percival Everett and James Kincaid (which nearly all of can be read at that link).
Erasure is one man’s journal/protest novel/philosophical musings that was, hands down, the best thing I read in grad school. A History of the African-American People [Proposed] by Strom Thurmond is the story of what might have happened had Strom Thurmond decided to try and write such a book…though Thurmond is not, in fact, in the book in much of a direct way.
See the kind of genius I’m talking about?
This newest work, I Am Not Sidney Poitier, is the story of a young man named Not Sidney Poitier (yes, his first name is Not Sidney). He is independently rich (thanks to some shrewd investing by his late mother) but sort of adopted by Ted Turner. He bears a stunning resemblance to the actual Sidney Poitier and, through the course of the book, relives such memorable Poitier films as Lilies in the Field, The Defiant Ones, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, and In the Heat of the Night. Sadly for Not Sidney, his experiences differ quite greatly from Mr. Poitier’s film incarnations.
During the the Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner portion, after Not Sidney (a high school dropout) has literally bought his way into Morehouse he takes a class titled “Philosophy of Nonsense” taught by someone named Percival Everett. I’d say I’m generally wary of characters who share a name with the author (although, Everything is Illuminated is a great novel and does the same thing…and the main character in Erasure is Percival Everett with a different name…) but the character of Percival Everett is fucking ridiculously brilliant that I can’t imagine any actual human (particularly one who is a “Distinguished Professor” at one of the premier universities in this country) talks or acts the way the character of Everett does.
I was going to throw in a few quotes here from the character of Everett but his conversations go on so long, and excerpting them would only be an injustice. Really, though, you’ve never read a character like him.
I’ve probably already said too much about the book because, honestly, it is something best experienced with as little foreknowledge as possible. The last thing I will say, though, is that it isn’t for everyone. I understand that, in a review, one is attempting to make an honest appraisal of a work. And my honest opinion is that Percival Everett (the real one, not the character) is the best, and least appreciated, American novelist of our time. So, given that, it would be hard for me to give the book anything other than 5 unicorns.
I do understand, however, that this ain’t Oprah’s book club, or James Patterson, or Nicholas Sparks we’re talking about. Everett, like many of the true genius prose writers that have come before him, isn’t for the masses. It’s an interesting dichotomy to consider. James Joyce, for instance, is often considered the greatest English language novelist of all time. In my experience (many years in the making at the bookmines and through undergrad and grad school), very few people who read a lot have read Joyce…and even less have enjoyed him. That is how I imagine Everett will be remembered and, as such, while I personally give I Am Not Sidney Poitier 5 Unicorns, I also bestow upon it, for the masses, 2 Unicorns.
2/5 - For the already converted ONLY!
The Hold Steady — Stay Positive
Instantly Celestial…Richard Garfinkle’s Fiction of Imagination
Aug 7th
I first discovered Richard Garfinkle whilst browsing the Sci-fi/Fantasy/Horror section of Aardvark Books (back in the days of yore, when I still lived in San Francisco, circa 2004). The cover you see to the left piqued my interest. I routinely judge books by covers. It’s just what I do. In any event, I picked up the book, titled Celestial Matters, and read this on the front cover:
A novel of alternate science among the crystalline spheres.
I sure as hell didn’t know what that meant but boy was I intrigued. Looking at the back gave me this little jem:
A thousand years after Alexander the Great, the Greek empire has expanded over the world with the help of advanced technology. Its plans for Total Domination of the entire planet will be complete once the war with the Empire of the Middle Kingdom has been won.
See, the deal is that all of Aristotle’s ideas about physics were right, and thus, Greece was able to create advanced technology (guns, planes, hovercraft, even space ships) based on Aristotle’s work and, you know, conquer the world. Except for Asia, where the Taoist science of the Middle Kingdom (China) rules.
The two empires are locked is a seemingly endless war.
The book’s concept alone is amazing. I had to buy/start reading it right then. I’ll be honest, though, and say it isn’t the greatest thing I’ve ever read. It does read a bit slow because it is told in first person by a Greek and Garfinkle nails a certain attitude for that character that lends itself to slow story telling.
But I did enjoy it quite a bit and, once I was done, looked for other works by Garfinkle. What I found was one other book (which, just like Celestial Matters, was out of print) titled All of an Instant. I think I paid, after shipping, in the 3 dollar range for the trade paper version (the only version in existence, I imagine) and it might be the best three bucks I’ve ever spent.
Imagine there is a dimension wherein time can be traversed like an ocean so that one could navigate to any point in human history and enter back onto Earth. Now imagine that there exists in this dimension, known as the Instant, thousands of (for lack of a better term) people fighting for dominance of said dimension.
That’s the basic premise of the book and really doesn’t even scratch the surface in describing what it is about.
If you click on the link above (the one that goes to Amazon) you’ll see that the work has just about 15 reviews and, of those, only three are poor reviews. The one and two star reviews complain, mostly, about the density and complexity of ideas in the book. One mentions that the characters are poorly written, though I disagree. The three main characters (each of whom is wildly different from the other two) in this work were, for me, much easier to empathize with than nearly all the characters in Celestial Matters. But really, all three are all complaining that All of an Instant is a challenging book.
And you’re damn right it is!
If you just want summer beach reading, don’t pick up this book. If, however, you like to be challenged by a book. And when I say challenged, I mean in every possible way. This book challenges our (often assumed) notions about plot, character, setting, even the very ideas of time and causality.
You know what, though? I read this one much more quickly, much more fervently, than I did Celestial Matters. In that book, the premise was just the foundation of the work, whereas the plot really was the focus of the thing. Here, the premise is the plot, and the characters, and everything. And the three protagonists are amazingly well rendered considering how disparate they are from one another and from normal humans.
I wouldn’t tread lightly with this book. If, however, you accept that it is a work of fiction that will challenge you as a reader, then you will enjoy it.
Even though both these books are out of print, you can get them easily on the internetz. On the flipside, Garfinkle just released his third novel, Exaltations, which looks awesome but, sadly, is only available on lulu for the princely sum of 40 dollars, American.
A Plea for Restraint…Hollywood, Leave This One Alone
Jul 31st
When I was kid…other than the aformentioned love of GI Joe, my other main source of entertainment came from sports; baseball and soccer, specifically. Whenever I had a book report due, I would make my dad take me to the library so that I could find the next in a seemingly (to my nine year old mind) never ending line of baseball biographies. I read books about every conceivable player you can imagine. Jackie Robinson’s autobiography remains one of my all time favorite books (and even if you don’t like baseball, it’s a great book), and I fondly remember reading about Ted Williams, Mel Ott, Whitey Ford…just way too many to name.
The Corona Public Library is not a great bastion of printed texts and, so, I did eventually exhaust its collection of books about baseball players. I soon turned to fictional childrens books about baseball, but I found them either poorly written or not actually about baseball.
Dejected, I found myself at a school book fair and happened upon a book whose cover featured a boy and dog with a clock on his side.
At this point in my life, the only real piece of fantasy that I loved was Peter Pan, but I chalked it up to an aberration of my young mind.
I’m not sure why I felt attracted to The Phantom Tollbooth. It really was unlike anything I had ever read. For whatever reason, I got the book and started it that night.
I couldn’t put it down.
Probably, and this is based on my poorly conceived notions of 9 year old psychology, I connected with the character of Milo. I didn’t have a terrible childhood. I mean, we all go through shit as kids, and in fact, a lot of the really bad shit that happened to me occurred after I read the book. But I had sometimes wondered what it would be like to just go off and disappear.
I remember reading the book…the first time I had ever read anything in this way…and imagining myself as the boy who, inexplicably, finds a small car and a tollbooth in my room and quickly enters another world. It was probably the first time where I really understood the power of the written word; its ability to transport a person into any possible existence, even if for a little while.
The book even changed the way in which I approached my other early fantasy love. I re-read Peter Pan after that and, I think, started to understand what it was that Barrie was doing with his own story about children transported into another world.
My hope is that I can pass The Phantom Tollbooth onto my kids without it being co-opted by hollywood. There is an animated version in existence. But it was made by Chuck Jones. As far as film versions go, it can’t be improved upon and, anyway, its Chuck fucking Jones!
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The “Wheel of Time” Keeps on Turning
Jul 31st
So here we go. This week on Normality Restored we are talking about our raped childhoods. In my case it is not so much my raped childhood, as my raped mid-teens to early twenties. I began to read Robert Jordan’s fantastic “Wheel of Time” series as a junior in high school and I absolutely loved it. As many of you know Jordan passed away in 2005 of a rare blood disease. Knowing that he was about to die, Jordan put together as much of the final “Wheel of Time” book as he possibly could. He understood well that there was a possibility he would not be able to finish it. Alas, the author was right and the book was unfinished at the time of his death. A new writer, Brandon Sanderson, was found to finish off the novel which brings us to today.
I would like to be clear from the start and state that it is not my intent, in any way, to slight Mr. Sanderson. I have never read any of his novels (although I have often lifted them from the shelves of bookstores and pondered them with interest; only to be distracted by some shiny new Stephen King or dusty old classic) and, therefore, do not have anything to say about his writing style in comparison to Jordan’s. For all I know Mr. Sanderson may be the next J. R. R. Tolkien. I will be focusing, however, more on the decisions made over (this book) these books.
I understand fully the want to see a favorite story finished yet, in many ways, the tale dies with its creator. How many of us have read or seen a sequel to a novel or film, that was not produced bu the original creative team, that was simply sub-par (which is, to be honest, is more often than not the case)? How many times have we gotten our hopes up simply to be let down by new creators (not because they are poor creators but simply because they are trying to control something they simply did not make)? It’s like cooks touch, all of the ingredients could be there, in the right proportions but if the cook stirs it one too many times or leaves it on the stove for a fraction of a second too long things can fall apart (which is why I don’t generally share my recipes).
I am frustrated with the idea of turning one novel into three, this may seem very jaded of me but the act appears to be nothing more than a money grab. Why would a company possibly want to sell a 2,100 page novel for thirty or thirty-five dollars when it can sell three 700 page novels for twenty-five dollars a piece. We all went through basic math and know that the hungry alligator likes seventy-five dollars more than thirty-five (75 > 35). So there you have it, might as well split the novel into three novels to get into the pockets of those loyal fans. There may be other reasons for this decision but it seems wrong, nonetheless. Besides, Jordan wanted it all to be one more novel and shouldn’t the wishes of a dying man be respected? If he had planned for three more novels then three it would be. I would have no problem with that.
Long before the announcement of Sanderson taking over, I had determined that my own personal “Wheel of Time” reading experience would end with “Knife of Dreams,” the last book that Jordan wrote cover to cover. I have two cousins and a sibling who have all read Jordan’s books and intend on finishing out the series with Sanderson. I am sure that they will enjoy the books, but for me, I would rather remember what was than what might have been. I have become agitated with the growing trend of writers taking over the works of others. Recently I have seen on the bookshelves “Devil May Care” a new James Bond tale not written by Ian Fleming. “The Bourne Deception,” not written by Robert Ludlum. Hell, someone even tried to write a sequel to “Catcher in the Rye” this year; thank god J. D. Salinger is still alive to protect his work. If a work is unfinished I would like to suggest two options. Release the notes that the author had or simply let sleeping dogs lie.
Read This Late at Night, or a Review of “The Strain”
Jul 21st
I’ll just start by saying that what follows includes a boatload of spoilers. In considering this book, however, I can’t think of a way in which to review it that doesn’t include spoilers, so there you are. Well, OK, if you just want a semi-objective, though not terribly useful, device by which to judge the book, I’ll give you my rating right now…
3/5 - Might be worth a try...
So now, for those who don’t care about spoilers, let’s get into the heart of the matter. I find the 3 unicorn rating of NR similar to the 3 stars employed by Roger Ebert. Ebert has said that the 3 star review is the least useful because it can mean so many things. People, however, tend to like things quantified, and so there you get a rating that doesn’t really tell one much about the book/film/comic at hand.
That said, The Strain is written by Chuck Hogan and Guillermo Del Toro.
I’ve never read anything by Hogan, though I’m tangentially familiar with his work, but Del Toro is one of my favorite filmmakers, and Pan’s Labyrinth is, with no hyperbole, one of the best fantasy films ever made. So, I was at least excited about the prospect of reading this book.
Spoiler 1: It’s about vampires.
That’s not much of a spoiler since the back of the book says something like…”Vampires. They’ve always been here, living in secret.” Or some such.
Spoiler 2: Vampires invade Manhattan.
Well, one “Master” vampire travels over from Europe and starts by infecting a plane load of passengers…
Spoiler 3: Vampirism is a virus.
I say, “infected” because, if the title didn’t give it away, in this telling of vampires, they operate by transmitting a virus from themselves to human hosts via something the protagonists call “blood worms.” The virus, in a fairly interesting take on it, actually changes the nature of the infected host and eventually does away with the human vital organs and changes the body into nothing more than a series of chambers set up to drink human blood. Plus, once infected the new vampire grows a stinger like appendage that shoots out of the vampires mouth and it what is used to drink the blood of humans/turn new vampires.
Spoiler 4: Anyone who is “bitten” turns.
Whether or not one dies from the “bite,” he/she will wake on the next nightfall and be a vampire.
All these spoilers are important in that the nature of the vampires plays directly into the expertise of the protagonist, Ephraim Goodweather, a special epidemiologist with the CDC who deals in terrorist attacks and high level viral outbreaks.
Of course, Eph isn’t the only one trying to hunt down the rogue “master” vampire and, in fact, is recruited by Setrakian, a concentration camp survivor and interesting homage to Van Helsing. Late in the book (too late for my taste) a third “hunter” joins the party in the form of Vasily Fet, a NYC rat catcher with a unique skill set as pertains to the underground warrens of NY and how to infiltrate and destroy vermin.
The big problem with the book, for me, is that I did not realize until, oh about 20 pages from the end, that it was just the first installment of a trilogy. I was reading it as a story that would be concluded when the book was done and, as such, had made a number of judgments regarding the narrative along the way; they spent too much time investigating the plane, Setrakian took too long to act, why didn’t Vasily show up sooner, etc.
All of these, of course, can be answered with a simple “this was only 1/3 of the story.”
Lastly, I’ll say that this book didn’t scare me.
OK, so only two books have ever actually scared me: Demons by John Shirley and Mind Parasites by Colin Wilson. I did have hopes, being as this is Guillermo Del Toro we’re talking about, that this one would have been the third.
As vampire stories go, it isn’t bad. The quick gestation period of the newly infected adds an element of impending doom that you don’t quite get in other vampire tales…as extrapolating out the number over just a few nights has nearly all of the burrough of Bronx infected. Lastly, newly infected vampires have an overwhelming urge to go and bite their “dear ones,” those people that they loved in life, which makes the infection particularly insidious and many of the bits of the first book are people being confronted by their newly vampiric loved ones.
Bifrost Toll Up Ahead: $.75
Jul 3rd
"The third gift - an enormous hammer" (1902) by Elmer Boyd Smith
I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t spent seventy five cents to find out how Loki was responsible for the creation of Thor’s hammer? I was ten years old, looking through books at the Kenwood Elementary Library Book Fair. My mother had given me change from what money she had. The library was empty except for some of the staff. I looked through the books by myself, trying to decide to which one I would surrender my money to. I found “Thunder of the Gods.” It was a kid’s book collecting stories of the Norse Gods, taken from the Prose Edda by Snorri Sturluson. The book is not on my shelves today. I read through it frequently, leaving it behind in my 7th grade science class two years later. A copy of the Prose Edda stands as substitute on my shelves. Those seventy five cents started me on a road of awe and pleasure with language and stories that has taken me to an obsession with William Shakespeare starting when I was seventeen, to Patrick O’Brian, Mark Twain, Cormac McCarthy, Phillip Pullman, Ray Bradbury, to Neil Gaiman. It only takes the right first taste to get things going.
DANDELION WINE by Ray Bradbury
I always tell people that this book has a Time Machine, a Happiness Machine, and witches, but there isn’t a single bit of science fiction or fantasy in it. Yet the book abounds with wonder in the perception of its main character, Douglas Spaulding, and his younger brother, Tom, as they chronicle the first time they do anything and what they learn and discover about the world around them during the summer of 1928.
“So, with the subtlest of incidents, he knew that this day would be different. It would be different also, because, as his father explained, driving Douglas and his ten-year-old brother Tom out of town toward the country, there were some days compounded completely of odor, nothing but the world blowing in one nostril and out the other. And some days, he went on, were days of hearing every trump and trill of the universe.”
The book is a semi-autobiographical work for Ray Bradbury, as Green Town and its inhabitants are all based on his hometown of Waukegan, Illinois. Bradbury channels as many sensations and memories from his childhood as he can remember, reliving and relishing them through Douglas. There is a scene early on where Douglas is in awe of simply becoming aware that he’s truly alive. The wonderful thing about Bradbury, if you’re in the young adult audience, is that he writes books that are also accessible to older readers. This makes the transition from reading young adult novels to adult novels easier for children as they grow older. The same can be said for Neil Gaiman, as the author’s work includes “Coraline” and “The Graveyard Book” for younger readers, along with adult fare such as “American Gods.”
WILLY AND HIS VERSES
I’ve read about twenty-eight of William Shakespeare’s plays, as well as all of the narrative poems and the sonnets. If I had to recommend one of his works as an introduction for a first time reader, it would have to be his cycle of sonnets. I recommend purchasing an annotated edition of anything by Shakespeare, and The Arden Shakespeare series delivers a thorough edition.
You will, perhaps, find Shakespeare’s most personal work in the sonnets. 
These were not written for any pay, as were his plays. They were void of censorship, unlike his plays. While many are familiar with lines from Sonnet 18, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day,” I’ve found the majority of people are not aware that many of the sonnets are addressed to a man. The speaker in the sonnets starts the cycle by trying to convince a beautiful young man to marry and have children, thereby granting immortality to the young man’s beauty through his offspring. The sonnets leading up to 18 express the speaker’s frustration at the young man’s reluctance to wed, eventually resigning himself to immortalizing the youth’s features through the sonnets. What follows is a chronicle of their relationship, as well as an affair the speaker has with a “dark woman” that virtually disgusts him.
LOKI AND THE BALD WOMAN
If you only read one book from all of the ones I mention here, let it be Michael Chabon’s “Maps & Legends.” It is a collection of essays that not only delve into some of Chabon’s favorite writers and their works, as well as what drove him to write some of his books, it is ultimately an ode and defense to simply enjoying yourself and what you read. Regardless of what it may be, as Chabon mentions writers from Faulkner and Cormac McCarthy to Sherlock Holmes, and even an essay included in the paperback edition that explores the ideas of storytelling in superhero costumes designs. It is an attempt by Chabon to liberate the reader of prejudices that might hinder them from picking up a book they could enjoy, merely because it is not published in a genre that is considered literary.
As for Loki and Thor’s hammer, Mjollnir? The story involves a beautiful yet bald woman, and the rest you can find out in the Prose Edda. Let me know if you find it for $.75.
Here’s a link to Ray Bradbury’s “All Summer In A Day.”
Legacy of the Force Reviewed…Finally
Jun 26th
I started out thinking I would just do a review for every book in this series. The problem was that as I went along, that prospect seemed to make less and less sense. This series really is just one long story covering many perspectives, characters, and locations, so breaking a review into many pieces wouldn’t do justice to what the authors have accomplished.
Review: “Gunpowder” by Joe Hill
Jun 16th
Ok, so here we go.
As mentioned by Kilian in one of his June 15th posts, we all have our little penchants for various authors and types of work. I too am a fan of the works of Powers and Blaylock (and am in the same lucky club as Killian having also worked with the two of them) but I am not here to talk about them today. I am sure that all of you have noticed I have become intrigued with the work of Joe Hill. This is my ninth article on the site and the third that deals with Hill’s work. I think that my interest is born from my respect for Hill’s father, Stephen King, which was the real reason why I purchased a copy of “Heart Shaped Box.” While I was impressed with “Heart Shaped Box” I have been astounded by “Locke and Key”. I feel fortunate that I have found Hill early in his career because now I get the chance to see his work change and grow, a joy I missed with his father since I was born in the eighties.