When so much has happened, and so much time has passed, where does one begin?

There has been so much frustration in my life these past few months.  Frustration and, oddly enough, a fair amount of enjoyment as well.  And then, completely out of the blue, today my family’s life changed dramatically.  It is an odd sensation, to sit here and think that just a week ago I felt one way about my life while today, I feel almost completely different.

I don’t want to alarm anyone, though I doubt there is anyone reading this, so I’ll just say this change has been decidedly for the good.  Right now, though, I’m just not ready to say anything more.

kilian

Typographical Errors Commence

This marks the first in a new era for me and digital style publication. I’ve had an iPhone for awhile now…necessitated by my venturing into the realm of online, university-style instruction. This is the first post, however, that has been written on my phone.

Of course, this the third attempt at getting it to actually post. That, coupled with the strange alchemy that is predictive text, has made this post very annoying to complete.

I do have some ideas percolating for new directions in online time wasting…

Lost and Found

r98657_300309I can’t even remember the last time I posted here. The standard reasons I have offered in the past can be brought out and beaten (though they are long since dead), yet again: kids, teaching, bookmines, exhaustion.

It remains to be seen how frequent…if at all, updates will come, though my intentions are pure in this regard.

It is also quite likely that none of our other contributors will be back, though at least a couple have claimed a willingness to try…or at least to try to try…

That being the case we’ve (and by that I mean, I) have ditched the weekly update format in lieu of the tried and true “update whenever the fuck you can” method which, honestly, I like better. So if you’re subscribed to the site through a feed you’ll get an update when we update…if not, you can always randomly check in, I guess.

Since there won’t be “themes” there seemed no reason to keep this space devoted to “This Week in Normality” so I’ve renamed it (for now) as “Random Normality.” Although, as I type this it occurs to me that I have to manually update the header somewhere in one of the stylesheets and I’ll be damned if I remember where the fuck that is. As always, I produce the most professional of websites.

I will see (in the internetz way, that is) you all soon.

kilian

kilian

This Week in Normality — Parents and Children

manhood_for_amateurslargeThe original, defacto, theme was “Father’s and Son’s” for reasons I won’t go into now.  Suffice it to say, I felt a more inclusive theme was fitting.

For the last week or so I’ve been picking my way through Manhood for Amateurs (Michael Chabon’s first work of non-fiction). Even though the HarperCollins website claims that the essays are “slyly interlinked” I’ve always enjoyed reading collected essays out of order. Perhaps I’m borderline ADD, but I’ve always held to the belief that reading such a work out of order leads me to discoveries I would have missed had my path been more linear.

Just today I stumbled across what will undoubtedly be my favorite passage from the entire book:

This may be the fundamental truth of parenthood: No matter how enlightened or well prepared you are by theory, principle, and the imperative not to repeat the mistakes of your own parents, you are no better a father or mother than the set of your own limitations permits you to be. And that set is your heritage, the pinched and helpless legacy of all the limited mothers and fathers whose fumblings, evasions, and shortcomings led, by some dubious accidental magic, to the production of you.”

It comes from an essay in which Chabon witnesses, in a real world exchange, the actualization of his eldest daughter’s burgeoning sexuality, and then must come to terms with his subsequent knee jerk reaction, even against the logical, objective view he holds of “sexuality” in his own mind.

It is cliched, or course, for a father to want to, as Chabon puts it, hit some boys in the face with “a mallet” for simply staring at his daughter. And while my own daughter isn’t even in kindergarten, I have a deepening sense that my own experience will turn out very much like Chabon’s.

Another cliche, though, is in telling someone “unless you have kids, you don’t understand.” More than once, someone has said to me “I can’t believe you have a kid” or, more recently, “I can’t believe you have two kids.” I’ve also been asked “what is it like to be a parent?” Or, “what advice can you give me for when I have kids?” My responses to questions like this are usually along the lines of…

  • Weird, huh
  • Yeah,
  • (Shrug)
  • Don’t forget your baby in the car when you go to the store.

In case you couldn’t tell, I have very little of use to say in regards to what it is like being a parent or what is required to be a “good” parent.  When it comes to all things parent, “unless you have kids, you wouldn’t understand” which also means, if you already have kids, you don’t need it explained. Sort of a catch 22, really, but it is true.

One thing can convey, something I’ve slowly come to realize over the last 3 1/2 years (and has been reinforced in last year that I’ve had two kids) is that parents are just making it up as they go along. I might not know, precisely, what a good parent should do, but I can fake it well enough to fool a couple of toddlers. The other day my daughter asked mommy for something, mommy replied that said “thing” was broken and that daddy would have to fix it when they got home. My daughter, I’m told, said “daddy can fix anything.” That statement is heartbreaking for two reasons:

  1. It shows how much unconditional love she has for me
  2. It also betrays the fact that, someday (much too soon), my daughter will come to find out that, in fact, I’ve faked my way through parenthood

I’m not saying that I feel as if I’m a terrible father.  While I can’t say for certain, my guess is most people who make an honest attempt at raising their children (read: don’t want their children to have the same fucking problems as themselves) are really just trying to find their way through a dark hallway without a flashlight.  On some level, what counts most is the effort.  At the end of the day, I will inevitably fuck up my kids in ways I had never intended, or could have foreseen, but hopefully they understand that I tried my best.

Until then, though, I get to read stories to my kids every night before they go to bed.

Finally, for your edification this time around, D. Composition brings us the Top 10 Most Awesome Parents in Film…enjoy.

kilian01

I’m Told There is a Storm, and That It May or May Not Be Gathering

the-gathering-storm

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.

kilian01

  • Categorical Normality