I would have given this one star but for the fact that Gene Hackman wrote it, and I feel like at least part of the blame is mine for thinking that theI would have given this one star but for the fact that Gene Hackman wrote it, and I feel like at least part of the blame is mine for thinking that there was any way this could have been anything but crap. But you know how it is ... he plays smart on the screen, he has been in plenty of movies I like, and I was curious about the quirkiness of Hackman trying out his hand on a novel.
I should have known better. Actors turned authors are often shiite, and it is rare for an actor to be as strong as Ethan Hawke. Hackman no Ethan Hawke. I can tell you that. (Actually, now that I say that, I would love to see Ethan take a crack at a western. I bet his western would kick ass.)
Now this isn't to say that Payback at Morning Peak was terrible. It was actually not too difficult to get through, and more than once I thought it would make a totally serviceable film western. But it was ridden with cliche, had a ridiculously evil villain, an even more ridiculously competent teen hero, and a lovely, intelligent young lady who, through the awesomeness of her beau, avoided getting raped and realized that he place was with him rather than following her dream of becoming a doctor.
Still, there were some good shootouts. And even if the sexism was just about era correct, Hackman did manage to keep the racism to a minimum. Ugh!
I made the mistake of buying Payback at Morning Peak in a bundle pack with some ocean tale of Hackman's. It may take me a while to get there, however, because once I put down Payback at Morning Peak I stopped reading everything but the newspaper for two weeks. That kind of break is a break too long for me. ...more
Dorsey Armstrong is my absolute favourite Great Courses lecturer. Her energy spills out of her lectures to charge her readers with everything they neeDorsey Armstrong is my absolute favourite Great Courses lecturer. Her energy spills out of her lectures to charge her readers with everything they need to fall in love with her topics. Black Plague? I'm in. King Arthur? Oh ... I am so in. And when she's busy filling us with all the information that is packed into her brain, she's also saying all the right things to make us want to go on, to learn more, to blow our minds open.
Her King Arthur: History and Legend lecture was exactly what I hoped she'd deliver, but much more than I thought she could. I wanted her to excite me, which she did, but I had no idea she could make me fall in love with Arthur's legend, which she also did. I've never been the biggest Arthur fan, but then I never really knew how far and how wide the Arthur legend stretched, and what Armstrong taught me was that Arthur's legend stretches far, wide and overlaps many cultures and traditions.
She made me excited for the past, the present and the future of Arthur and Arthurian research. And I was just dilettanting my way around this lecture. I'm glad I took the time, though, and ... honestly ... any time spent with Dorsey Armstrong in my ears is time well spent.
Know before you begin the Savage Avengers that the assembled team has nothing to do with the Avengers -- no affiliation -- and that they are not even Know before you begin the Savage Avengers that the assembled team has nothing to do with the Avengers -- no affiliation -- and that they are not even remotely a team of Savage "Avengers." The comic could just as easily be called Conan's Bastards, or A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Savage Land, or The Dirty Half-Dozen, but Marvel knows that if they throw Avengers in a title it's going to sell more comics, so Savage Avengers is the title they gave us.
False advertising aside there is really only one thing that doesn't work for me in Savage Avengers, and that is the same thing that fails to work for me whenever he appears -- the Punisher. Apologies to Gerry Duggan for my feelings since Duggan's motive for choosing Frank Castle as one of his Savages makes perfect sense and is upheld by his story's internal logic, but I simply can't stand the Punisher. I find him boring, overused, one note, a prime example in our comic book writers of what Ursula K. Leguin called "the treason of the artist":
The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain. (from The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas),
and the Punisher's presence in any comic, for me at least, diminishes whatever else is being done, which is particularly unfortunate in the Savage Avengers, considering how good everything else is.
We get Wolverine lopping off limbs left and right, while stretching his healing factor beyond anything we've ever seen before; we get Elektra as something of a chess master moving her pawns around and keeping them alive when she can; we get Doctor Voodoo (perhaps the least savage of the bunch) magicking his ass off; Venom doing what Venom does best -- cracking wise in a supporting role; and best of all, Conan of Cimmeria, hot off the pages of Savage Sword of Conan, ridiculously exiles from Hyboria and set loose in the Savage Land (what next? Kull as a member of the Fantastic Four?). I'm going to come right out and say that I came to Savage Avengers because of Conan. I'm a huge fan. I still play Conan RPG games and strategy games. I even love apocryphal Conan villains -- like the Savage Avengers' Kulan Gath -- even though they have no connection whatsoever to the original works of Robert E. Howard. All of these elements are worth the visit with Gerry Duggan's mad team of Savage Bad-Asses, and the art work is a slicing, dicing, bloody brilliant morass of gore, so that is good too.
Savage Avengers is pure O-Positive escapism, and very nearly perfect. If only Frank Castle would fuck off and die. Or even better ... I'd love a Mandela effect where only I can remember that the Punisher ever existed and the rest of the world has no idea what I am talking about. What a wonderful world that would be.
Three things stand out to me about Fred Saberhagen and his First Book of Swords:
1. -- His Style: I didn't expect Saberhagen to be such a fine writThree things stand out to me about Fred Saberhagen and his First Book of Swords:
1. -- His Style: I didn't expect Saberhagen to be such a fine writer, but he is. The man can write a sentence. His prose is clean, his prose is crisp, his prose does what it needs to do without any bullshit. I was expecting something lesser, something hack-like, but my expectations did Saberhagen a disservice. The man was a good writer, and I will seek out more of his work beyond this trilogy.
2. -- Showing Not Telling: I often struggle with Fantasy because of the clear cut, black and white, diametric opposition of good & evil - good vs. evil. Too often this manifests from the opening pages with a clear delineation between the good guys and the bad guys. We're told who to cheer for rather than deciding who to cheer for based on their actions. Saberhagen explodes this expectation by presenting people. His people may seem one way then reveal themselves to be another way; they may engage in a simple act of kindness, or sadness, or loyalty that reveals their nature, or they may engage in a casual act of cruelty, or sadism, or selfishness that reveals their nature, but we're never told what to think of his men and women ... we're given the opportunity to decide for ourselves based on their actions. I love that.
3. -- Surprise: I'm an old and jaded reader. I didn't think I could be surprised anymore (it happens so very rarely), yet Saberhagen surprised me. Not once. Not twice. Thrice. Maybe I was gullible to what was happening because of personal, real life distractions + the ten books I was reading simultaneously, or maybe I am just a knob, but I was genuinely surprised by directions the novels took three separate times, and I can't help appreciating an author and a work that creep up on me and makes my heart race the way my sneaky teen -- Brontë -- does every times she moves silently down the stairs and makes me jump. Nice job, Fred. I hope your revenant is scaring the shit out of folks walking by your resting place every day and night for the rest of time. ...more
Ever since my twins were little -- they are now seventeen -- we've been playing D&D in the same world I co-created with a friend from high school (wayEver since my twins were little -- they are now seventeen -- we've been playing D&D in the same world I co-created with a friend from high school (way back in the '80s). By the time the twins were twelve their little sister had joined them, and now she has been playing with us for five years.
Thing is, we don't play D&D like most folks do, and I never have. As a teen, I was lucky enough to have played D&D with two actors (three if I count myself), an illustrator and now metalsmith, a couple of writers (again if I count myself), and some other smart and flexible folks who came into and out of our campaign from time to time. This all meant that we didn't just spend our hours rolling dice, moving little figurines around a map and killing as many monsters as we could. We rarely dungeon crawled, and we could have full eight hour sessions where all we did was role play, interacting as our characters by debating, politicking, nation building, or just drinking in a tavern. I carried this method of play on with my kids, and after years of playing together (admittedly with a couple long layoffs when their interest waned) the highest level any of our characters has achieved is 6th, and we've moved through our fantasy world slowly and methodically, doing everything from performing as an entertainment troupe at Maargold Station to paddling on the rivers of Mithae to delivering the body of a friend to his parents in the Tremblant to inciting a labour movement in Thaddeus to joining a movement to overthrow the Eye. But after years of slow role playing with the kids, I realized that we have done even less dungeon crawling than my friends and I did in the '80s. I thought it was time to change all that, so "Enter: The Lost City."
Once I decided to go back to an old D&D module so my kids could have the full D&D experience, however, I had to figure out how to let them use characters from our main world -- and the world's we've all been building independent of that one -- in a way that wouldn't disrupt the flow of our game and would allow the characters to go back to whichever world they had come from when we were finished. Here's what happened ...
From our main world came Lennart (a grey dwarf Priest of Gameroth), Viola (a human Ranger), Mitek (an elven Wizard), & Danen (a human priest of Valartin); from my youngest's world came Bethane (a half-elf / half-lizard man Thief); from my alternate-history USA came Lt. Brett Galvin (a soldier / gambler), and they were all eventually joined or replaced by characters from my son's worlds because some of this original group just didn't make it -- but we expected that.
The original party -- those I've named -- went to sleep in their worlds and awoke on the dunes outside the walls of the desert city where The Lost City begins. They found one another, bonded over their dreamstate-transportation to the sands of a strange world, made their way into the pyramid at the heart of the desert city, then after an arduous dungeon crawl (which took our family over six months to complete, playing once and occasionally twice a week) -- and after finding the titular "Lost City" and ignoring it in favour of the pyramid -- the party (those who remained and those who joined along the way) finally killed Zargon at the base of the pyramid and found themselves transported instantly back to wherever it was they had fallen asleep on that night they had found themselves on the sand dunes.
Along the way they met characters that Tom Moldvay created years ago -- like the warring brothers Demetrius and Darius, the Were-Fox siblings, the Wizards of Usimagarius, and the cult-like Cindiceans -- and they met new characters I added to enrich their journey -- like Seigrid the Gnome, the trader of the pyramid, and Ecumenziez the Blue, a blue dragon who I made a sort of menagerie keeper of the lowest levels of the pyramid (a much better way of explaining the presence of Were-Bears in a room just down the hall from Displacer Beasts). But that's really the beauty of Moldvay's module: it is so, so flexible; it provides a wonderful framework for adventure with lots of detail already in place, and it allows for a Dungeon Master's imagination to run free.
Don't be afraid to go back to these old modules, and if you are new to D&D and a fan of 5th edition definitely seek them out in their new adapted forms (which are ready for you to play with the new rules). The Lost City and all its kin are magical. And trust me ... you'll find a way to make it work for you and your players, and you'll have a blast. I promise. ...more
In case you didn't know, James Bond is a sexist prick. You probably knew that already, though. But what you might not have known is that in Casino RoyIn case you didn't know, James Bond is a sexist prick. You probably knew that already, though. But what you might not have known is that in Casino Royale, his first adventure (if you can call what he does adventuring), he is a useless prat.
Bond fails at pretty much everything he does in this novel. He makes mistake after mistake. He only defeats the baddie (in the mission proper) because the baddie defeats himself, which, come to think of it, is pretty much how every Bond villain loses (maybe Bond always sucks at his job and he's just the luckiest agent in MI-6). His shit judgment leads to his near death. He lets emotion get in the way of the job, and it costs lives. Meanwhile, Ian Fleming keeps popping us into Bond's thoughts, and Bond's opinion of everyone he comes in contact with has something to do with their incompetence, all while Bond is thoroughly incompetent himself.
Still, there is a seriously cool torture sequence, the very real SMERSH makes their first fictional appearance in the Bond books, and despite being a tosser, an asshole, and a giant slut, Bond still manages to pull off a level of coolness, although that is probably just forty years of filmgoing indoctrination I can't shake.
All in all a disappointing book, even with Simon Vance's decent performance as Bond.
One final thought: the British propaganda made me cringe this time around....more
I found myself back in Paris this winter because my 10 year old son, the indomitable Miloš, took on The Three Musketeers for his essay, and I read it I found myself back in Paris this winter because my 10 year old son, the indomitable Miloš, took on The Three Musketeers for his essay, and I read it in support. It is my sixth or seventh reading, but I haven't read it in a while so I honestly can't remember which reading it is, not that it matters. I had quite the experience this time through.
In the past I have been obsessed with the treatment of Milady de Winter -- both Dumas' treatment of her and the Musketeers' treatment of her -- but this time I was much more focused on the Musketeers themselves. Most if not all of that can be chalked up to Miloš' essay topic. About half way through he was zeroing in on the fact that the Musketeers, particularly Athos and D'Artagnan (who begins the tale unattached then turns Guard then turns Musketeer) are vastly less than heroic. So my reading went down the same path, and damn are they an ugly bunch.
I've spoken and written of their iniquities in the past, so I'll leave the listing of their bad behaviours aside, but I will say that I was struck most profoundly -- once again -- by the way pop culture has twisted the Inseparables.
I am sure that Dumas' didn't conceive of them as humorous, sexy, devil-may-care, lily white, honourable or even upstanding heroes. He conceived of them as flawed men living in a flawed society, busy taking advantage of whatever they could to get ahead, get in a bed, get rich or richer or forget their pasts. Sure they are fun to read when they have a rare sword or musket fight (and there are precious few when you consider the page count of this book), but so much of who they are is so unsavoury that, as Miloš said to me, "they can't be heroes." No. They really can't.
I wonder if we started a petition of literary fans if we could get HBO to produce a version of the Musketeers that makes them appear as they truly are, though I doubt it. BBC has succeeded in making their time dirtier and grungier, and even made Cardinal Richelieu vastly more nasty than Dumas intended, but their Musketeers are as charming as ever Hollywood made them. I, for one, would rather see the nasty Musketeers. I want to see them as they were conceived by Dumas. That would be something. ...more
This is the first time I have ever read (listened) to a series of Conan stories that were all by Robert E. Howard, undiluted by his imitators and dimiThis is the first time I have ever read (listened) to a series of Conan stories that were all by Robert E. Howard, undiluted by his imitators and diminishers, and what a revelation. Howard's work was not the pulpy trash of his followers; it was accomplished, vital, deep and rich in characterization, and some of the finest world building ever achieved. It was that thing I love most: a novel in short stories.
Listening to this collection, one gets a full picture of Howard's Cimmerian. Not the "barbarian" his copycats like to present (it's interesting to note that Howard's Conan only ever refers to himself as a Cimmerian), but the man with powerful personal ethics, a good man born of a bellicose tribe in a time of war, a man whose lustiness is lustful rather than rapacious, a man as capable of personal brutality as he is of noble heroism as he is of tactical genius as he is of creeping stealth as he is shocking kindness as he is geniune responsibility. Howard's Conan is a possible man, a realistic man, a man who does great things and travels far -- rising from thief/pirate to general/king -- but a man who, despite his titular status, suffers consequences and faces situations with real stakes.
That Conan, Howard's Conan, disappears in the writing of others, becoming a buffoonish barbarian pseudo-god, a "barbarian" in every caricatured sense of the word, a moron, a being of pure instinct and no intellect, the sort of character Arnold Schwarzenneger might play, rather than a real actor with a real brain (say Tom Hardy).
The stand out stories: "The Tower of the Elephant" (my favourite to teach), "Queen of the Black Coast" (recently adapted and serialized beautifully by Brian Wood for Dark Horse Comics), "Black Colossus," and "The Devil in Iron" are some of the finest short stories ever put to typewriter -- by anyone.
If the only Conan you know is the Conan co-opted by L. Sprague de Camp, Lin Carter, Robert Jordan et al., and you enjoyed their pulpy goodness well enough, do yourself a favour and read the real thing. Robert E. Howard was the real deal, and I'll be surprised if he disappoints you.
One final word: the narrator of the audiobook -- Todd McClaren -- is excellent. His voice his clear, his feminine voice avoids insipidity, and the way he paces the tales is impeccable. I'll be seeking his voice out in the future....more
I was going to give this five stars, then I thought, "It's too much fun for five stars," so I clicked on four stars, then I thought, "Fuck that! Five I was going to give this five stars, then I thought, "It's too much fun for five stars," so I clicked on four stars, then I thought, "Fuck that! Five it is." And so it came to be.
New Novella --
I have been tossing around an idea I have about the shift in novella writing from a thing unto itself into a portion of "larger" works (I first started talking about it here), and it seems to me that John Scalzi's quite marvelous Redshirts is just such a work.
I would split it into two novellas: Redshirts itself, and the three Codas. Redshirts is, after all, a mere 200-ish pages that read very quickly. Its length is similar to many of the classic novellas (many of which, like Heart of Darkness are densely packed into their slim editions); it gets going, gets its story told and gets out.
The Codas, then, make up the second novella. Though they work as narrative additions to Redshirts proper, they also work on their own, stringing together three short stories (a novella in short stories?) that make one cohesive unit, and I think they could be read as one piece minus Redshirts and be quite excellent in their own right. Moreover, they offer up first, second and third person perspectives, respectively, binding themselves together as one unit with a mechanical throughline that weaves together the narrative threads into a piece.
You may not consider it two novellas, but the idea works for me in my brain, and next time I read this book I am going to read the Codas all by themselves to see how they work.
Fun & Funny--
Novella talk aside, this is one enteraining piece of fiction. It hits that special place in my liver where my Trekkie love rests, it hits that special place in my hypothalimus where my Firefly love rests, it hits that very special place in my testicles where BSG rests, it hits that special place in my joints where Deep Space Nine rests, etc., etc.. Scalzi knows all the pressure points (and of course he would being the nerd that he is and having worked on Stargate too), and he pokes at those points with joyful abandon. I haven't had so much fun reading in a year.
Hyperreality--
Fuck yeah! Anyone who is interested in Baudrillard or Eco or spends their time seeing the removes in everything they perceive with enjoy their time down the wormhole or ten.
Jenkins--
A Yeti in the Jeffries' Tubes. Seriously fun.
I know I am missing some things I wanted to say when I finished reading last night, but those can wait until the next time I read Redshirts. It is sure to come. ...more
"Suspend your disbelief," said the little voice inside my head.
When I listened to that little voice I was able to enjoy The Ultimate Game, and there "Suspend your disbelief," said the little voice inside my head.
When I listened to that little voice I was able to enjoy The Ultimate Game, and there are elements of this book that truly deserve to be enjoyed. Unfortunately, that little voice wasn't always loud enough to make me suspend my disbelief, and the sound of that voice couldn't drown out the dissonance. Those moments couldn't be overlooked or enjoyed (not, at least, by me).
3 Things That Deserve to be Enjoyed --
The Cliffhanger-- I didn't look into what this book was about before I started reading it, so the cliffhanger at the end of the book, the set up for the sequel, was somewhat unexpected, although I could tell quite early on that another book or two had to be coming if Sean Austin was going to make his story approach completeness. It was good enough that I want to read the sequel.
Two Brothers -- I quite liked Reggie and Jeremy, despite the fact that I bought very little that came out of their mouths. They didn't act their ages, for instance. Still, my like for them existed, and it came down to their love for each other, their loyalty, and the way their emotions rang true. I believed the way they felt about each other and how that translated into the actions they were forced to take, so I cared what happened to them (which is probably the key to the cliffhanger and my desire to see where this story is going).
Echo-7 -- Badass super transformer, Echo-7, is a pretty convincing front-man villain (I suspect someone else is in Echo-7's driver's seat ). He cloaks, he transforms, he tortures, he swallows people whole, he does impersonations, he thinks, he ejects still living boys from his body in plastic bags, he has an army of taser-bots, and he wants to rule the world (perhaps). But wow do you need to roll with his presence (suspend, suspend, suspend) because if you don't you may as well read something else.
Things That Are Hard to Enjoy --
The Militarism -- All boys like guns and violence and military lingo and knives and military philosophies -- and that's okay. More than okay, actually (at least that's what it felt like this book was trying to sell me). It's just fine to fill a book with violence, apparently, and sell that violence to boys ... cause, hey, the US is a peaceful place, the most militarized peaceful place in Earth's history, and militarism's a good thing, a thing that keeps us safe, not something that endangers us, not something we should ever worry about, at least not as much as we should worry about sex and hormones.
The "Token" Girl -- Claire's gamer handle is "Claw," and she's as beautiful as a super-model, and she makes Reggie feel funny in his stomach and then in his heart. Reggie's fourteen. When I was fourteen there was another funny feeling that went along with the stomach and the heart, and that could be found, quite uncontrollably, in my pants. Nothing stirred for Reggie, however. Never even crossed his mind. Couple Reggie's hormonal impossibility with his puppiest of loves, and the fourteen year old he was supposed to be felt about eleven. There was no suspending disbelief here, and it was more frustrating still because Claire was actually an appealing character. She was wasted. Big time.
Violence vs. Hormones -- Couple the glorification of violence for young adults with the chastity of the piece, and the result was an unrealism I was came to despise. The willing ignorance of parents when it comes to their children's hormones, hormones that they once had, makes me despair.
(view spoiler)[Why Wasn't This Whole Thing A Total Recall Scenario? -- If all the gamers had awoken in AAARealityGames hooked up to virtual reality displays or something, and everything they'd experienced had been a BETA test of a new game, this book would have been terrific. But they didn't, and The Ultimate Game was only good. It's a shame. I was hoping for better. (hide spoiler)]*
The Cliffhanger -- I know I said this was one of the things to like about the book, but it has to reside here as well. Sean Austin set up expectations, he teased and hinted at something more, and he failed to deliver. Had he taken more care to avoid the tease, the ending would have been much more satisfying. But I still want to read what's next, so the cliffhanger can't be all bad. ...more
Han Solo and the Lost Legacy is the last of the original Han Solo trilogy published way back between 1979 and 1980. The Indiana Jones movies began to Han Solo and the Lost Legacy is the last of the original Han Solo trilogy published way back between 1979 and 1980. The Indiana Jones movies began to appear in 1981. Keep those dates in mind.
Why? I'll get to it right now. Perhaps it would have been better to name this book Han Solo and the Temple of the Crystal Skull.
I was reading along -- at a slow, slow pace since I had other things to read -- when Han Solo sucked me in for a final reading push with a major divergence from what had become the Han Solo adventure formula. He's riding across a lake on the back of a giant dinosaur-like sauropteroid alien, who just happens to be a ferry on the planet Dellalt, when he looks up into the mountains, throws aside his hunt for the Millenium Falcon and embraces the hunt for treasure he's been on because he's struck by an idea. (Can you see the light bulb over his head? I could).
So off he goes with Sallah ... um ... Chewbacca and a bunch of their adventuring partners, including a pseudo-love interest named Marion ... er ... Willie ... er ... Ilsa Hasti. I couldn't help myself. I flicked back to the cover and what did I see but the fucking Crystal Skull ... uh ... the Crystal Death's Head mask, the symbol of Xim, the Almighty Badass Tyrant of Dellalt. Next thing you know, Indy Han and his friends are being captured by the Ugha Tribe the Survivors in their mountainous temple. Then Mola Ram... um ... some nameless Survivor takes over and prepares them for sacrifice. Fast forward to Club Obi Wan ... the mountain top altar, where Han and Chewie figure out a way to escape. Chewie grabs a giant metal gong, decorated with the Paramount Pictures Logo ... er ... The Crystal Skull ... uh ... Xim's symbol and some runes, and he uses it to deflect all the blaster bolts and projectile bullets as the whole crew runs to the edge of the cliff -- and they jump off. But Chewie sees a chance to make a better escape, so he turns the Airplane's Life Raft ... uh ... Xim gong into a sled, and they all go on a huge toboggan run down the snows of Xim's mountain. Whew! But just as they reach a long flat run and it looks like they are safe ... BUMP ... they hit a bump that throws them off another cliff, and they fall into raging river a giant drift of powdered snow that cushions their fall. No village elders greet them, I'm afraid.
Now I'm not saying that George Lucas is a thief. Surely he would never steal ideas from other places for his own movies. And even if there are similarities between stories in a world full of stories, well, that is inevitable, isn't it? It's must be coincidence that Brian Daley's Han Solo and the Temple of the Crystal Skull has such a strong resemblance to set pieces and plot points in those other Harrison Ford vehicles. And it's probably coincidence, too, that this instalment of the Han Solo Trilogy is the weakest of the bunch. All coincidence.
It was still lots of fun for me, though, despite the journey into Professor Han Jones and his wonderful world of grave robbing. Too bad the Gallandro thread had to end the way it did. I'd have loved to see a whole bunch more of him. ...more
This review was written in the late nineties (just for myself), and it was buried in amongst my things until today, when I uncovered the journal it waThis review was written in the late nineties (just for myself), and it was buried in amongst my things until today, when I uncovered the journal it was written in. I have transcribed it verbatim from all those years ago (although square brackets indicate some additional information for the sake of readability). It is one of my lost reviews.
What a personally powerful book. A Man on the Moon is such a wonderful reminder of what we are capable of as a species and what wonderful things we can accomplish when we work together. I hope to see a man on the moon in my lifetime, although I doubt it will happen, which is a shame.
It never ceases to amaze me that true life figures are so impressive when their stories are told -- whether they are really impressive or not. Is this all just spin? Is it the grandeur of their accomplishments? Whatever. I love hearing tales of Crazy Horse and Custer, of Henry V or Julius Caesar or Cleopatra. But right now I most love to hear the stories of the Astronauts and Cosmonauts.
Apollo 12's tightly bound crew of Conrad, Bean and Gordon were inspiring with their camraderie; Apollo 13's near fatal accident couldn't have been dreamt up by the greatest of screenwriters; then there's my favourite, the Apollo 17 crew of Cernan, Jack Schmitt and Ronald Evans. The finest scientific achievments of the program, and a fitting end to one of the world's greatest pursuits. Chaikan's book allowed me to take part in the Apollo adventures -- for that I am grateful. ...more
I really enjoyed that read. I did. But ... but what? But, I guess, I closed the cover feeling ... unsatisfied, maybe? I really don't know.
There aHuh.
I really enjoyed that read. I did. But ... but what? But, I guess, I closed the cover feeling ... unsatisfied, maybe? I really don't know.
There are changes I would have made to the story, choices Cline made that I wouldn't have. There were times when the exposition felt like a big stinky info dump. There were times when the references and Easter Eggs and winks and nudges became too cute -- like a geek podcast revelling in their own nerdiness. There were times when the author's plea for Hollywood to come calling and make rich was whorrific. Yet I can't really blame Cline. It is, after all, a love letter to Pop-Culture, and his desire for that California booty call is totally understandable.
While I was reading this, trailers started trickling out for the film and I found myself mildly excited, especially because of Spielberg, then annoyed at potential changes from the parts of the novel I liked, then really annoyed at the seeming increase of real world time rather than OASIS time (which isn't so much about something I liked as it is about adding to the story where nothing needed to be added), then sort of excited again by how much fun it will be to see so many IPs all in the same place. And all of this impacted the way I was reading the book and added to my feeling of dissatisfaction.
And that continued: I liked a lot of the players in the book, but I didn't like some others, though I knew I was supposed to, and that left me cold.
And I found the first person narrative really suited the story, but it also narrowed our perception of the Stacks and the OASIS, which was a bummer, but while I found that frustrating as a reader, I also am not thrilled to see our perceptions of Cline's world expanded beyond the first person when Ready Player One hits the screen, so more contradiction impeded my enjoyment.
I leave Ready Player One in like rather than in love. I prepare for the film version with mild anticipation rather than hot excitement. And I wonder if it is worth reading at some later date to see if any of my feelings will change over time. And I wonder if the film will make me love this story. And I wonder if the correct form for this novel is a screenplay. And I wonder if this is a work where we should all just skip the book because the film -- even for Ernest Cline -- was always the point. Yeah. I think that is it. I think I figured out the key to this story. Skip the book entirely and revel in the film. The book is merely a means to the end. ...more
Reading (or in the case of Star Wars The Han Solo Trilogy rereading) Star Wars books, with all their cheesie craptasticness is a great reminder of jusReading (or in the case of Star Wars The Han Solo Trilogy rereading) Star Wars books, with all their cheesie craptasticness is a great reminder of just how bad George Lucas' universe is.
It is all contradictions and stock characters and pretty lights and bad plots and predictability and self-referential bullshit and unspeakable dialogue and sci-fantastic worlds. And that's exactly why we love them so much -- or at least why I do -- because they are drivel.
So when A.C. Crispin, who is obviously a fan of Han Solo, has her hero leading smugglers in an attack on an Imperial Fleet come to destroy Nar Shaddaa, it doesn't matter that it further damages his original trilogy character development (the worst damage was done by Lucas, after all, so the Creator himself set the precedent). And when Han comes up with the master plan that will help defeat the fleet (an ex-lover whose illusions would put David Copperfield to shame), and when Han is used by Jabba and Jiliac the Hutts to bribe the Admiral of the fleet, and when Han barely escapes from Boba Fett long before his Empire encounter with the bounty hunter (and makes him a mortal enemy by stealing his Mandalorian wrist darts), and when Han falls in love with the Millenium Falcon in about as banal a way as I can imagine, and when Han meets and befriends Lando Calrissian on the spot, who turns out to be a man who loves responsibility long before he becomes responsible for Cloud City, and when Han peaks out of a closet at a Darth Vader murder, it doesn't matter because its just as contradictory and silly as all Star Wars tales. And it's just as fun.
So I admit it ... I really, really liked The Hutt Gambit because I am a nostalgic git with no taste. But I'm okay with that....more
There is a life lull at the moment, as there always seems to be at the end of one year and the beginning of the next, wherein I have a hard time engagThere is a life lull at the moment, as there always seems to be at the end of one year and the beginning of the next, wherein I have a hard time engaging with people, and books sing to me of their paper comforts. I let myself be led to a cozy bed (whenever I can) or a comfy chair wrapped in a blankie, and I read, read, read.
This year I find myself catching up on the books my kids read throughout the year, the ones I didn't have time to read right after they had (where's that Magic Tree House book, Brontë?). Frankie Pickle and the Mathematical Menace is one of those books, and the best surprise so far.
This is, I think, the best of the Frankie Pickle books. The other two we've read, Frankie Pickle and the Closet of Doom and Frankie Pickle and the Pine Run 3000 were fun, and Frankie's Mom and Dad taught him some fine lessons about personal hygiene and not giving up, but it is their lesson in self-confidence and the way they help him study for a redo of his math quiz (he bombed a first attempt because his lack of confidence led him into Arithmecca, an imaginary land of dangerous numbers, and he doodled away his quiz time) that make this the best of the bunch.
Eric Wight's artistic talent is as fun as usual, but it is the added seriousness of what he puts Frankie through and the way he has his characters teach Frankie the necessary lesson that elevate this book above its predecessors. There is fun to be had. In fact, the lessons depend on it, and the best part is that Frankie doesn't even know he's being taught. Isn't that the best kind of learning? I think so....more
I am mostly delusional but not completely delusional. I knew this book was going to be crap when I picked it up at that shack-like used book shop a coI am mostly delusional but not completely delusional. I knew this book was going to be crap when I picked it up at that shack-like used book shop a couple of years ago, but my boy and I love Indy, and I thought it would be a fun book for him to read as his reading skills increased. I stand by that even after reading it; it's a decent movie-tie-in for a seven year old boy.
There're lots of sun and time faded photos from the Temple of Doom (and who doesn't love movie stills?), and hackosaurus Les Martin doesn't offer anything fancy. It's all sort of "this happened, then this happened, and now this is happening but that just happened, and then this happened and now it's over." Perfect for a seven year old boy.
And there is even a cool scene that I've never heard any reference to in any other version of Temple of Doom, wherein Indy is already under the Black Sleep of Kali, and he comes back to Pankot Palace to put Willie to sleep, reassure Captain Blumbart (of Her Majesty's Cavalry) that everything is fine, and spend a little play time with Chatter Lal and the Maharajah. It was probably a scene that Spielberg trimmed from the screenplay (a wise decision), but it was a lot of fun to read here, and it actually tightened things up a little plotwise.
Regardless, this book is pretty sucky. Martin removes all references to "Fortune and Glory" as an Indy motivator -- which is one of my favourite parts of Temple of Doom -- and then he removes the "nocturnal activities" seduction sequence between Willie and Indy. Okay ... fair enough ... this book is for children, so if you have to take out the double entendres, be my guest, but couldn't you also remove, say, the whole Mola Ram ripping a heart out of a guy's chest thing? God forbid a child hears that Willie and Indy might want to sleep together, but by all means let that same child bask in the horror of beating hearts being held aloft. The fucking hypocrisy is what gets me.
Oh well, this was fun for me regardless. A nice thing to do while my computer boots up every morning. It's Milos' book now, and if he misses the full fun of Willie and Indy flirting, he can watch it as soon as he's finished reading.
Cause, after all, who doesn't love watching Kate Capshaw booby snatching the pillar statue?...more
Thor Visionaries Volume One covers one of the greatest periods in Thor’s little corner of the Marvel Universe, issues #337-#348. I read them when theyThor Visionaries Volume One covers one of the greatest periods in Thor’s little corner of the Marvel Universe, issues #337-#348. I read them when they first came out, and they are all packed away in mylar bags and comic boxes in my office. I was pretty stoked to have them all in this Graphic Omnibus edition, and for the most part they didn’t disappoint. Here are my highs, mediums and lows.
Thor Visionaries: Top Ten -- The Awesomeness
1. Balder the Brave � The best story arc of the Omnibus, we see Balder gone to seed after a horrible experience in Hel. He was killed by Loki, banished to Hel, and met all of those he had ever killed in battle while being tormented by demons. It leaves him a husk of a god, and once he is in the land of the living he avows pacifism. The path back to the sword, which is also, interestingly enough, his path back to vitality and life, is the one part of the twelve comics I most looked forward to.
2. Lorelei � Super hotty, especially for a teenager who loved red heads. Even if she’s mere pencils and ink, she’s scorching. And I always kind of wanted Thor to stay under the spell of her love potion.
3. Thor � Pretty cool for a big, violent dumb ass. Still don’t know how being big, dumb and tough makes you worthy to wield Mjolnir, but then I’m not Odin.
4. Odin � I didn’t remember his omnipresence, but it was an excellent surprise. Odin was actually a pretty cool character, and I liked the way that he didn’t always serve as a deus ex machina. He was as vulnerable as the next god -- almost.
5. The Clark Kent Cameo � Silly, and a whole lot of fun, especially with Lois giving him shit for his clumsiness.
7. Multiple storylines � Simonson’s greatest storytelling strength was his ability to juggle multiple storylines without short changing any. He kept the pace cooking, kept us interested in everything, and had an eye for a long term story. For instance, the opening frames of #337 show the arms of Surtur forging his sword. We see him for twelve straight issues before that little storyline has come to fruition. It is present as prologue. And the last frames of the last comic we see? Surtur ready to kick ass. Very cool.
8. Malekith � Bad ass villain. I even named a half-elf in D&D after him, although my wizard didn’t have the multi-toned skin of Malekith.
9. Loved the Secret Wars panel � There’s this cool blank space left in #341 with three missing panels, which show the Avengers on the way to the Beyonder’s Secret War. You could cut out the panel from somewhere else and paste it in your comic. I bought extras at the time so I could do that (I know, I know). But they provide the real panels in the appendix here. Fun.
10. Walt Simonson’s Art � There’s a sixties nostalgia to Simonson’s eighties art that always appealed to me. The goddesses, Sif and Lorelei, look like a pair of gorgeous, buxom movie stars, the sort Hitchcock would have cast in his films (nothing like the inhuman buxomness of the nineties), and there is an unfinished quality to his pencils that adds real texture to his section of the Marvel Universe.
Thor Visionaries: Middle Five -- The Blah-ness
11. Beta Ray Bill � I remembered Beta Ray Bill with such fondness that when I saw him on the cover locked in combat with Thor, I just had to buy the graphic novel. Oh! what a difference twenty years make. The Ballad of Beta Ray Bill section of this omnibus was soooooo boring. I wanted to like it, but now I just feel a little stupid for ever having loved it. It was okay, I guess, but a bit much considering its primary purpose seemed to be getting Thor out of his mortal Dr. Donald Blake form.
12. From Donald Blake to Sigurd Jarlson � Not sure this ever really needed to happen, but whatever ... Simonson got to make Thor look like a big Viking beefcake in a t-shirt and tight pants, so some wish fulfillment must have been at work. At least it led us to today and Chris Hemsworth in a t-shirt and tight pants in the film. Silver lining.
13. Sif � She’s okay, but pretty damn fickle and pretty damn thick. But hey, she can overlook Beta Ray Bill’s ugliness, so that’s something.
14. Superman Secret Identity Idiocy � So suddenly Thor is Sigurd. Nick Fury throws a pair of big geeky glasses on him, and Simonson instantly sees that the glasses hiding Thor are as stupid as the glasses hiding Superman, so he pokes fun at it by having a bunch of folks almost make the connection between the big blonde Norseman and Thor, but not quite (one guy figures Sigurd must be Spidey). Good on him for recognizing the idiocy, but it is handled pretty poorly.
15. Surtur and Twilight � The presence of Surtur throughout is cool, but I was bummed when the last comic collected in this Omnibus culminated in Surtur’s escape from exile. That’s where I wanted to start, not finish.
Thor Visionaries: Bottom Eight -- The Crapness
16. Not Enough Loki � Where was he? Sure he shows up once in a while to meddle, but he wasn’t nearly meddlesome enough, and apart from a little nudging of Lorelei in her quest for Thor’s love, Loki spent most of his time messing with Balder the Brave.
17. Fafnir the Dragon � This jackass looks like a pugilistic Godzilla.
18. Simonson’s Idiotic Time Keeping � The major downfall in Simonson’s storytelling is his inability to make time work. His narrative is all over the place when it comes to time. We see days pass in one thread and minutes pass in another, but they are presented as though they are simultaneous. It’s a minor complaint, really, because comics can be forgiven time lapses, but it pulled me out of the moment more than once.
19. Fafnir the Dragon � Could this big Jurassic Park reject just shut the hell up?!
20. Not Enough Warriors Three � Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun are too cool to be barely seen. But there was less of them than Loki.
21. Fafnir the Dragon � So Fafnir is out destroying the poor areas of New York, and he’s yelling for Thor (who is off in Antarctica), and the television news crews are wondering where Thor is, and I’m wondering where the hell everyone else is? Where’s Spidey? The rest of the Avengers? Daredevil? Fantastic Four? Even Sub-Mariner? Silliness.
22. Fafnir the Dragon � Did I mention this dragon sucked?
23. Fafnir the Dragon � Oh yeah, and Fafnir the Dragon. Lamest Thor villain ever! ...more
Frankie Pickle rocks. It is laced with satirically charged pop culture references; it has a protagonist who is almost as likable as Watterson’s CalvinFrankie Pickle rocks. It is laced with satirically charged pop culture references; it has a protagonist who is almost as likable as Watterson’s Calvin; it has a Dad who’s at home in the garage as he is in the breakfast kitchen; a Mom of wisdom and coolness, and a pair of fair sisters who are cool in their own right. Plus, Frankie has a dog named Argyle.
This book is an excellent mix of comic graphics and prose, which is the perfect shift for boys and girls moving from storybooks to pre-teen books. Yet it didn’t blow me away. It was good. I liked it. I did, but it was more butterscotch than vanilla. And that’s nowhere near chocolate. ...more
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