A few weeks ago I reviewed the book Welcome to Shirley by Kelly McMasters. It's a non-fiction book that I had some misgivings about, mostly because it seemed to want to be both a history and a memoir without fully exploring either form. But If you look at the comments for the blog post you'll see someone named Ken Spooner mentioning a high number of factual errors in her work.
I've spent the last couple of days checking out Spooner's site, and a number of the claims do seem to check out in other sources. I'm not an expert on the town of Shirley, NY and don't really have the time to become one, but it does seem like the book is filled with lazy scholarship. At least that's what I'm thinking it is, rather than a more purposeful glossing over of details. It's a shame this book made it to print without a real fact-check, because I still think McMasters had her heart in the right place in trying to tell the story of this town. My guess is she really wanted to write a memoir but didn't have enough for full a book; the historical sections possibly came later to give a full page count. I could be wrong, but Spooner seems to agree with comments like this on his page:
I am reasonably certain it was witnessing as a young girl, the slow and painful death from cancer of her neighborhood girlfriend Tina's father Jerry, that inspired Kelly to write this book or set her main topic up of environmental stewardship. The true neighborhood good guy with a huge heart, it is her storytelling about Jerry that resonated the strongest with me.
This section Spooner describes is easily the most powerful in the book, and if McMasters had focused on her memories and the emotions behind them she probably would have created one hell of a book.
I was intrigued by this controversy of scholarship, because when I read the book I was surprised by the lack of citations in McMasters's work. Very little of her research was cited so I came away wondering how she pulled together her information for the more factual, less memoir sections. What I had in hand was a preview copy, so I emailed the publisher and was assured that a bibliography of her sources would be published with the final version. Yesterday I found a final version at my local bookstore and it still lacks a bibliography, giving validity to Spooner's claims and, frankly, making me feel guilty about reviewing the book for a major library publication. I'm not saying Spooner is right, and I'm not saying McMasters is right. But if you do read her book read it with some level of caution and decide for yourself.
Excelsior
Friday, May 23, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
Take Stuff From Work
One of the deep, dark, dirty secrets in libraries is how much they get rid of every year, every month, every week and every day. While some people I work with seem to relish the duty because it makes space for newer items, I always feel guilty. I'm afraid of getting rid of undiscovered literary gems or a non-fiction title that really teaches something new.
Of course a number of books are removed because they are in bad shape, but many are weeded because no one ever checked them out. The general rule of thumb where I work is to pull a book if it goes through a period of 16 months without a check out to its record. I'll often see first novels by writers who just never got lucky enough to land a review in the NY Times or the Washington Post, oddball non-fiction, and poetry. There's almost always lots of poetry going out our door and in the trash.
The worst part is we're not allowed to sell these in the annual booksale. We apparently used to do that, but people complained about their tax dollars going towards the purchase of books to only have them sold as used books a year later. So now they go right in the trash, unless someone on staff wants to take them home. These are the five I saved yesterday.
Hyperspace: A Scientific Odyssey Through Parallel Universes, Time Warps, and the 10th Dimension. by Michio Kaku. This guy's been growing into one of the best known physicists in America. I first heard of him when this book came out in 1994. It's a great compilation of crazy sci-fi theories and how they have influenced real scientific thought. Fascinating, easy to read and fun. This one, I should note, is in pretty bad shape. It's got a pretty ugly coffee stain on the back and the front cover is barely hanging on.
Chris Ware: Monographics by Daniel Raeburn. Seeing as how the library I work at doesn't have any actual books by Ware, it was probably a strange purchase to begin with. Basically it's a celebration of Ware's work in comics, with reproducitons of pages of his work, covers of books and odd merchandising like a Jimmy Corrigan lunchbox. This one's partly my fault. While I've flipped through it, I hadn't bothered to check it out yet.
My Dad's a Punk. edited by Tony Bradman. This one's also my fault. I saw it when it first came in, meant to check it out and promptly forgot. The volume collection twelve short stories about teens with dad's who maintain a bit of good ol' punk spirit. With authors like Tim Wynne-Jones, it's probably a good collection, but unfortunately short story collections just don't check out that much.
We Saw Lincoln Shot: One Hundred Eyewitness Accounts. compiled/edited by Timothy S. Good. The title pretty much sums this one up. The book's in great shape, and it looks to be a real gem of first-person accounts. I'll be giving this one to Jim, an old friend of mine who's a big civil war buff.
The Way to Rainy Mountain. by N. Scott Momaday. Seeing this one on the discard pile almost made me cry. Momaday's a fantastic writer and I love mythology of any kind. This title collects a number of short-short tales based on myths of the Kiowa tribe. I'm really looking forward to reading this one.
Excelsior
Of course a number of books are removed because they are in bad shape, but many are weeded because no one ever checked them out. The general rule of thumb where I work is to pull a book if it goes through a period of 16 months without a check out to its record. I'll often see first novels by writers who just never got lucky enough to land a review in the NY Times or the Washington Post, oddball non-fiction, and poetry. There's almost always lots of poetry going out our door and in the trash.
The worst part is we're not allowed to sell these in the annual booksale. We apparently used to do that, but people complained about their tax dollars going towards the purchase of books to only have them sold as used books a year later. So now they go right in the trash, unless someone on staff wants to take them home. These are the five I saved yesterday.
Hyperspace: A Scientific Odyssey Through Parallel Universes, Time Warps, and the 10th Dimension. by Michio Kaku. This guy's been growing into one of the best known physicists in America. I first heard of him when this book came out in 1994. It's a great compilation of crazy sci-fi theories and how they have influenced real scientific thought. Fascinating, easy to read and fun. This one, I should note, is in pretty bad shape. It's got a pretty ugly coffee stain on the back and the front cover is barely hanging on.
Chris Ware: Monographics by Daniel Raeburn. Seeing as how the library I work at doesn't have any actual books by Ware, it was probably a strange purchase to begin with. Basically it's a celebration of Ware's work in comics, with reproducitons of pages of his work, covers of books and odd merchandising like a Jimmy Corrigan lunchbox. This one's partly my fault. While I've flipped through it, I hadn't bothered to check it out yet.
My Dad's a Punk. edited by Tony Bradman. This one's also my fault. I saw it when it first came in, meant to check it out and promptly forgot. The volume collection twelve short stories about teens with dad's who maintain a bit of good ol' punk spirit. With authors like Tim Wynne-Jones, it's probably a good collection, but unfortunately short story collections just don't check out that much.
We Saw Lincoln Shot: One Hundred Eyewitness Accounts. compiled/edited by Timothy S. Good. The title pretty much sums this one up. The book's in great shape, and it looks to be a real gem of first-person accounts. I'll be giving this one to Jim, an old friend of mine who's a big civil war buff.
The Way to Rainy Mountain. by N. Scott Momaday. Seeing this one on the discard pile almost made me cry. Momaday's a fantastic writer and I love mythology of any kind. This title collects a number of short-short tales based on myths of the Kiowa tribe. I'm really looking forward to reading this one.
Excelsior
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Time for fresh air and sunshine
Today's the first day in what feels like several in the DC area that the sky's not filled with a canopy of gray clouds and rain sprinkling down. I never quite know what to do with myself when sunshine returns. It's almost like I've forgotten what it is, this big giant blazing ball up in the sky. I go outside not to run, not to hike, not to work in the yard but to get reacquainted with how everything feels. The warm sun on the skin, fresh air going in and out of lungs....it almost feel real that first time you step out into it.
This kind of echoes my life for the past year and a half. With school I've been caught up in a gray downpour of projects, papers and academic essays. But now it's finally over and I really don't know what to do with myself. Oh, I've got plenty to do looking for a full time job. Helping pull a fall wedding together. Preparing to move. Catching up on some reading and writing.
One thing I really let slide in life was hitting all the cultural things DC has to offer. I celebrated the end of school last Friday night by taking in the Cure's local stop on their US tour. Even though I've seen them before---this would make the fifth time---it was still fantastic. Even the opening act, 65DaysofStatic, was really good, and the Cure is notorious in having weak opening acts. This past Sunday I hit some museum exhibits downtown and tonight I'm going to see the Gamer Symphony Orchestra perform at the University of Maryland. Needless to say, I'm kind of making up for lost time.
I don't know what I'll be doing with the blog here. I know it will continue to include reviews, but It's likely to change as I figure out the next pieces of my life. But for the moment I plan on going outside and enjoying the weather, before the rain comes back.
Excelsior
This kind of echoes my life for the past year and a half. With school I've been caught up in a gray downpour of projects, papers and academic essays. But now it's finally over and I really don't know what to do with myself. Oh, I've got plenty to do looking for a full time job. Helping pull a fall wedding together. Preparing to move. Catching up on some reading and writing.
One thing I really let slide in life was hitting all the cultural things DC has to offer. I celebrated the end of school last Friday night by taking in the Cure's local stop on their US tour. Even though I've seen them before---this would make the fifth time---it was still fantastic. Even the opening act, 65DaysofStatic, was really good, and the Cure is notorious in having weak opening acts. This past Sunday I hit some museum exhibits downtown and tonight I'm going to see the Gamer Symphony Orchestra perform at the University of Maryland. Needless to say, I'm kind of making up for lost time.
I don't know what I'll be doing with the blog here. I know it will continue to include reviews, but It's likely to change as I figure out the next pieces of my life. But for the moment I plan on going outside and enjoying the weather, before the rain comes back.
Excelsior
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Me and Mr. Miller
This past week I had a rather unique experience. One of my childhood friends works as a sound engineer at main studios for NPR in downtown D.C. and he invited me to a mini-concert with bassist/composer Marcus Miller. It was something going out over the airwaves and NPR wanted to stack the house with people they knew would applaud at the right moments and laugh at the right jokes.
I worked on radio talk shows when I was in undergrad, both for the college station and the local NPR affiliate. But the setups I worked with was nothing like NPR has. The main recording room is a rather large area, about the size of a small classroom, and a second room just to the side for the drums. A third room acted as control central for the engineers, large mixing board and computer audio equipment used to mix everything on the fly as it went out over the air.
It ended being a live broadcast for the NPR show Talk of the Nation. The host Neal Conan sat at a small desk in front of the audience, a laptop open so he could read files and ask Miller questions between musical numbers. The also had a phone line setup so fans from around the country could call in and ask questions, and a man in a suit kept running back and forth bringing listener emails for Conan to read.
Seeing Miller play was amazing. He did things on his bass I barely understood and he did them so effortlessly. It was probably as easy for him as walking across the room is for the average able-bodied person. In between bits when they took a break for local station id's, MIller lightheartedly jammed to the 1980's smooth jazz NPR pumped out. This is a guy who loves, lives and breathes music. Miller was also a great interview; his responses to questions were thoughtful and often funny. Inevitably, one caller asked how to improve his speed and technique in his own bass playing. The question led to another from Conan, who asked about his three stages of being a musician. These are, btw, paraphrased and should not be taken as verbatim quotes from Miller.
Level One: This is the learning stage, where the musician is learning the foundations of technique and theory. Fingering, scales, how to play with other musicians.
Level Two: In the stage, the musician has mastered many, if not all, of the techniques of his/her instrument. The musician can churn out complicated solos and impress everyone with how well they play their instrument, but the overall reaction will be "I bet he practices a lot".
Level Three: This final stage, the musician internalizes everything learned and uses it intuitively to express a feeling or tell a story. While they can play complicated solos, they may also choose to play things simply when it's called for. Instead of thinking about the . Miller used Miles Davis as a prime example, saying a Miles solo will make people step back and say, "Yeah, I had a girlfriend like that once." You don't think about the notes but what's behind them.
It certainly works for writers, too. Who gets to that third stage, though, can be a bit subjective. While I might be powerfully moved by Pynchon, other readers might fight him inaccessible. I still think it's a cool model, though.
If you're interested, you can hear the whole show onlinehere. Just remember when the applause come, one of those pairs of hands was mine.
Excelsior
I worked on radio talk shows when I was in undergrad, both for the college station and the local NPR affiliate. But the setups I worked with was nothing like NPR has. The main recording room is a rather large area, about the size of a small classroom, and a second room just to the side for the drums. A third room acted as control central for the engineers, large mixing board and computer audio equipment used to mix everything on the fly as it went out over the air.
It ended being a live broadcast for the NPR show Talk of the Nation. The host Neal Conan sat at a small desk in front of the audience, a laptop open so he could read files and ask Miller questions between musical numbers. The also had a phone line setup so fans from around the country could call in and ask questions, and a man in a suit kept running back and forth bringing listener emails for Conan to read.
Seeing Miller play was amazing. He did things on his bass I barely understood and he did them so effortlessly. It was probably as easy for him as walking across the room is for the average able-bodied person. In between bits when they took a break for local station id's, MIller lightheartedly jammed to the 1980's smooth jazz NPR pumped out. This is a guy who loves, lives and breathes music. Miller was also a great interview; his responses to questions were thoughtful and often funny. Inevitably, one caller asked how to improve his speed and technique in his own bass playing. The question led to another from Conan, who asked about his three stages of being a musician. These are, btw, paraphrased and should not be taken as verbatim quotes from Miller.
Level One: This is the learning stage, where the musician is learning the foundations of technique and theory. Fingering, scales, how to play with other musicians.
Level Two: In the stage, the musician has mastered many, if not all, of the techniques of his/her instrument. The musician can churn out complicated solos and impress everyone with how well they play their instrument, but the overall reaction will be "I bet he practices a lot".
Level Three: This final stage, the musician internalizes everything learned and uses it intuitively to express a feeling or tell a story. While they can play complicated solos, they may also choose to play things simply when it's called for. Instead of thinking about the . Miller used Miles Davis as a prime example, saying a Miles solo will make people step back and say, "Yeah, I had a girlfriend like that once." You don't think about the notes but what's behind them.
It certainly works for writers, too. Who gets to that third stage, though, can be a bit subjective. While I might be powerfully moved by Pynchon, other readers might fight him inaccessible. I still think it's a cool model, though.
If you're interested, you can hear the whole show onlinehere. Just remember when the applause come, one of those pairs of hands was mine.
Excelsior
Friday, April 04, 2008
YA Horror Novels
One of the projects for my Young Adult (YA) literature class was to develop an annotated bibliography highlighting titles within one specific area or genre of YA lit. I picked supernatural horror; I picked it for a variety of reasons, but mostly because one of the more common requests I get from teens is for a "scary book".
Surprisingly, there's not a lot out there. There are lots of thrillers featuring serial killers or drug dealers gone mad. And there are a good number of books using tropes of supernatural horror to tell a different kind of story, like the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyers that uses Vampires to tell a gothic-style romance. But there aren't that many books that have elements of the supernatural and are also scary. Here are some of the better ones I came across in pulling my list together.
Bradbury, Ray. Something Wicked This Way Comes.
This classic by award-winning author Ray Bradbury tells the tale of two Midwestern teenaged boys, James Nightshade and William Halloway, who battle against the dark carnival that comes to their small town one fall night. Carnival owner Mr. Dark is a horrifying villain as he twists and corrupts the adults of the town to his dark ways. Nightshade and Halloway are the only ones who realize his intent to steal the souls of everyone in the town, making the story a powerful parable of standing up to evil in all its forms. This literary-minded tale is creepy without being overly violent or gory.
Carmody, Isobelle. The Gathering.
This one was probably my favorite, partly because I've never heard of Carmody before. Nathaniel and his mother move to Cheshunt expecting a peaceful community and instead find a town twisted by a dark evil. While crime rates are low, Nathaniel quickly discovers they are kept down through fear and manipulation. Mr. Karle, the P.E. teacher at Nathaniel’s school, is running the town from behind the scenes through intimidation and psychological warfare. Even worse, Karle uses the Gathering, the school’s youth club, as his own personal Gestapo to stamp down any who might resist his will. Most of the town is willing to hand over control to the devil-tongued Karle, but Nathaniel befriends a group of fellow teens who want to fight against the tyranny. They learn Karle’s power comes from an old curse that fell on Cheshunt generations ago; to stop Karle they must face their own personal fears and purge the evil before Karle can spread his power beyond Cheshunt. In a style that meshes Robert Cormier with Ray Bradbury, this is a literary-minded tale of horror that can be read on many levels.
Chandler, Elizabeth. Dark Secrets: Legacy of Lies.
Sixteen year old Megan visits the grandmother she never met with the hopes of rebuilding the torn ties between her mother and grandmother. Megan finds it a bigger job than she first thought when she finds her grandmother to be a spiteful old woman filled with little but hatred and anger for the world around her. It doesn’t take long for Megan to hear the rumors and ghost stories about the generations-old estate her grandmother lives on. At the core of both her grandmother’s anger and the ghost story is Avril, sister to Megan’s grandmother who died as a teenager. To heal both the spirits and her grandmother Megan must learn the horrifying truth behind it all.
Partridge, Norman. Dark Harvest.
It’s Halloween 1963, and every teenaged boy in the unnamed, small Midwestern town is hunting for the October Boy, an evil spirit with a Jack-o-lantern for a head and twisted vines for a body that appears every year. Whoever kills the October Boy wins money and freedom from the hard life offered by the small farming town. Pete McCormack swears to wins this year’s hunt so he can escape the life he’s grown to hate. What starts as a fairly predictable shock-horror tale takes a sharp turn when we learn the real evil runs through the sheriff and mayor, who use the October Boy to control the town. This fast paced thrill ride develops into a meaningful metaphor on escaping the ills of the previous generation.
Shan, Darren. Demonata Number 1: Lord Loss.
Sly teen Grubbs Grady’s life is transformed when he sees his mother, father and older sister fall victim to the power of Lord Loss, a maniacal demon whose only love greater than dishing out pain is the game of chess. With everyone thinking he’s crazy, Grubbs is shuttled off from relative to relative until he finally finds one who believes him: his crazy, reclusive uncle Dervish. His uncle teaches him about the generations-old curse on his family and Grubbs decides he will be the one to end the curse by challenging Lord Loss to a dramatic game of multi-board chess. Winning will free his family from the curse; losing will give his body and soul over to the demon for eternity. Although it owes many of its bloodier ideas to H.P. Lovecraft and Clive Barker, this is a fast read that works as a nice transition for fans of younger series like Goosebumps who want something a little more grown up.
Westerfield, Scott. Midnighters #1: The Secret Hour.
Fifteen year old Jessica Day thinks life will be boring when she moves from the big city of Chicago to the small town of Bixby, Oklahoma. But odd things begin to happen at midnight. Everyone except her freezes, seemingly stuck in time, and the town is plagued by ancient monsters that look like flying snakes and giant panthers. Jessica finds some others who aren’t affected and learns the story of a secret hour the monsters use to hide themselves from the human world. The monsters, though, are gearing up for a great offensive against the real world and Jessica alone my hold the power to fight back. This smartly written horror mixes elements of the Twilight Zone and superhero comics, making it a powerfully addictive read.
Excelsior
Surprisingly, there's not a lot out there. There are lots of thrillers featuring serial killers or drug dealers gone mad. And there are a good number of books using tropes of supernatural horror to tell a different kind of story, like the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyers that uses Vampires to tell a gothic-style romance. But there aren't that many books that have elements of the supernatural and are also scary. Here are some of the better ones I came across in pulling my list together.
Bradbury, Ray. Something Wicked This Way Comes.
This classic by award-winning author Ray Bradbury tells the tale of two Midwestern teenaged boys, James Nightshade and William Halloway, who battle against the dark carnival that comes to their small town one fall night. Carnival owner Mr. Dark is a horrifying villain as he twists and corrupts the adults of the town to his dark ways. Nightshade and Halloway are the only ones who realize his intent to steal the souls of everyone in the town, making the story a powerful parable of standing up to evil in all its forms. This literary-minded tale is creepy without being overly violent or gory.
Carmody, Isobelle. The Gathering.
This one was probably my favorite, partly because I've never heard of Carmody before. Nathaniel and his mother move to Cheshunt expecting a peaceful community and instead find a town twisted by a dark evil. While crime rates are low, Nathaniel quickly discovers they are kept down through fear and manipulation. Mr. Karle, the P.E. teacher at Nathaniel’s school, is running the town from behind the scenes through intimidation and psychological warfare. Even worse, Karle uses the Gathering, the school’s youth club, as his own personal Gestapo to stamp down any who might resist his will. Most of the town is willing to hand over control to the devil-tongued Karle, but Nathaniel befriends a group of fellow teens who want to fight against the tyranny. They learn Karle’s power comes from an old curse that fell on Cheshunt generations ago; to stop Karle they must face their own personal fears and purge the evil before Karle can spread his power beyond Cheshunt. In a style that meshes Robert Cormier with Ray Bradbury, this is a literary-minded tale of horror that can be read on many levels.
Chandler, Elizabeth. Dark Secrets: Legacy of Lies.
Sixteen year old Megan visits the grandmother she never met with the hopes of rebuilding the torn ties between her mother and grandmother. Megan finds it a bigger job than she first thought when she finds her grandmother to be a spiteful old woman filled with little but hatred and anger for the world around her. It doesn’t take long for Megan to hear the rumors and ghost stories about the generations-old estate her grandmother lives on. At the core of both her grandmother’s anger and the ghost story is Avril, sister to Megan’s grandmother who died as a teenager. To heal both the spirits and her grandmother Megan must learn the horrifying truth behind it all.
Partridge, Norman. Dark Harvest.
It’s Halloween 1963, and every teenaged boy in the unnamed, small Midwestern town is hunting for the October Boy, an evil spirit with a Jack-o-lantern for a head and twisted vines for a body that appears every year. Whoever kills the October Boy wins money and freedom from the hard life offered by the small farming town. Pete McCormack swears to wins this year’s hunt so he can escape the life he’s grown to hate. What starts as a fairly predictable shock-horror tale takes a sharp turn when we learn the real evil runs through the sheriff and mayor, who use the October Boy to control the town. This fast paced thrill ride develops into a meaningful metaphor on escaping the ills of the previous generation.
Shan, Darren. Demonata Number 1: Lord Loss.
Sly teen Grubbs Grady’s life is transformed when he sees his mother, father and older sister fall victim to the power of Lord Loss, a maniacal demon whose only love greater than dishing out pain is the game of chess. With everyone thinking he’s crazy, Grubbs is shuttled off from relative to relative until he finally finds one who believes him: his crazy, reclusive uncle Dervish. His uncle teaches him about the generations-old curse on his family and Grubbs decides he will be the one to end the curse by challenging Lord Loss to a dramatic game of multi-board chess. Winning will free his family from the curse; losing will give his body and soul over to the demon for eternity. Although it owes many of its bloodier ideas to H.P. Lovecraft and Clive Barker, this is a fast read that works as a nice transition for fans of younger series like Goosebumps who want something a little more grown up.
Westerfield, Scott. Midnighters #1: The Secret Hour.
Fifteen year old Jessica Day thinks life will be boring when she moves from the big city of Chicago to the small town of Bixby, Oklahoma. But odd things begin to happen at midnight. Everyone except her freezes, seemingly stuck in time, and the town is plagued by ancient monsters that look like flying snakes and giant panthers. Jessica finds some others who aren’t affected and learns the story of a secret hour the monsters use to hide themselves from the human world. The monsters, though, are gearing up for a great offensive against the real world and Jessica alone my hold the power to fight back. This smartly written horror mixes elements of the Twilight Zone and superhero comics, making it a powerfully addictive read.
Excelsior
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Comps, Comps, Comps
My last three weeks have been almost entirely focused on one thing: comps. Comps, or comprehensive exams, are essentially the last barrier, the final gate keeper to keep students out of the clubhouse of being official librarians. Two days of testing sessions, three hours each. They ask five questions each day, and you have to answer two in a academic-style essay, complete with references to appropriate literature. The questions can be about any topic related to librarianship, and that perhaps is the worst part: not really knowing what will be asked. So you study everything, soaking up as much as you can and trying to focus on what you think the faculty will want you to focus on.
I felt nervous as hell when I got there the first day. My heart was jam-jam-jammering in my chest and my stomach felt like it wanted to separate from my body and walk away. I wasn't alone. People were cramming until the last minute and everyone seemed to have their own personal nervous tic (finger-tapping, pencil twirling, hair twisting) on full display. A woman in the row behind was chatting with someone and talking about how much she needed to pass. She already had a job starting in June on the condition she passed all her tests. But to top it off, her husband had just lost his job. As bad as my nerves were, I'm sure hers were a lot worse.
Once the computers were on and I had the questions in hand, I felt better. It took away the mystique of the whole affair and, once made real, took away some of its power of me. I think I did ok overall----two of the four questions I answered I feel like I did pretty well on. The other two I probably did well enough. But now the waiting game begins. It'll take about a month before we get the results. In the meantime I have classwork, reviews, and real life to catch up on. Until next time....
Excelsior
I felt nervous as hell when I got there the first day. My heart was jam-jam-jammering in my chest and my stomach felt like it wanted to separate from my body and walk away. I wasn't alone. People were cramming until the last minute and everyone seemed to have their own personal nervous tic (finger-tapping, pencil twirling, hair twisting) on full display. A woman in the row behind was chatting with someone and talking about how much she needed to pass. She already had a job starting in June on the condition she passed all her tests. But to top it off, her husband had just lost his job. As bad as my nerves were, I'm sure hers were a lot worse.
Once the computers were on and I had the questions in hand, I felt better. It took away the mystique of the whole affair and, once made real, took away some of its power of me. I think I did ok overall----two of the four questions I answered I feel like I did pretty well on. The other two I probably did well enough. But now the waiting game begins. It'll take about a month before we get the results. In the meantime I have classwork, reviews, and real life to catch up on. Until next time....
Excelsior
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Review: Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin
Inspired by The Aeneid, Ursula K. Le Guin’s newest novel Lavinia takes the smallest character from Vergil’s epic poem and creates a thoughtful, moving tale of prophecy, myth and self-fulfillment. Lavinia is the teenaged princess of Latium, a small but important kingdom in pre-Roman Italy. As she moves into womanhood Lavinia feels pressure from her mother and father to choose one of her many suitors as both her husband and the future ruler of the kingdom. Being a princess and having a kingdom as her dowry, Lavinia's definitely a popular girl around the Mediterranean. The most ideal suitor is Turnus, young ruler of a neighboring kingdom who performs brilliant on the field of battle and makes all the women swoon. All the women, that is, except Lavinia. She finds him pompous, and lacking any shred of true piety. Torn by the desires of her parents and her own Lavinia travels to the oracles of the sacred springs, hoping they will lead her a proper path.
The oracles of the sacred springs say she will marry an unknown foreigner. This stranger ends up being none other than Vergil’s Aeneus, proud hero, king without a country and the man who will lay down the foundations of the Roman Empire. Their marriage sparks a war to control the region, and while we don’t see the glorious battles of Aeneus we do get the surprisingly moving perspective of the home front through Lavinia’s eyes.
Although best known for her works of fantasy Le Guin takes a more historical approach by toning down the magical elements; gods and prophecies play a vital role in Lavinia’s life but they are presented as concepts and rituals, not as deities playing petty games with the lives of mortals. This shifts the focus of Vergil’s plot from action to character, allowing Le Guin to breathe life into a character that never utters a word in the original story.
I'll be curious to see what the Feminist SF folks will make of this work. While I couldn't help but think of what Marion Zimmer Bradley did for the women of Arthurian legends in her Mists of Avalon, Lavinia is a very different book. It's been several years since I've read The Aeneid, but she's kept the basic plot the same. It's just with this we get a view backstage and discover that other factors besides the glorious battles played a major part in shaping one of the greatest Empires the world has ever seen. She doesn't go to unbelievable lengths to establish how important Lavinia's role was, but she does make it feel like Lavinia played an important part in this mythical story.
Lavinia herself is quite compelling as she transforms from a spirited princess into a queen full of wisdom who makes a profound impact on the lives of her people. While I think readers looking for action or plot oriented fantasy will not know what to make of this novel, anyone who appreciates deep layers of character development will be awed by what Le Guin does here.
Excelsior
The oracles of the sacred springs say she will marry an unknown foreigner. This stranger ends up being none other than Vergil’s Aeneus, proud hero, king without a country and the man who will lay down the foundations of the Roman Empire. Their marriage sparks a war to control the region, and while we don’t see the glorious battles of Aeneus we do get the surprisingly moving perspective of the home front through Lavinia’s eyes.
Although best known for her works of fantasy Le Guin takes a more historical approach by toning down the magical elements; gods and prophecies play a vital role in Lavinia’s life but they are presented as concepts and rituals, not as deities playing petty games with the lives of mortals. This shifts the focus of Vergil’s plot from action to character, allowing Le Guin to breathe life into a character that never utters a word in the original story.
I'll be curious to see what the Feminist SF folks will make of this work. While I couldn't help but think of what Marion Zimmer Bradley did for the women of Arthurian legends in her Mists of Avalon, Lavinia is a very different book. It's been several years since I've read The Aeneid, but she's kept the basic plot the same. It's just with this we get a view backstage and discover that other factors besides the glorious battles played a major part in shaping one of the greatest Empires the world has ever seen. She doesn't go to unbelievable lengths to establish how important Lavinia's role was, but she does make it feel like Lavinia played an important part in this mythical story.
Lavinia herself is quite compelling as she transforms from a spirited princess into a queen full of wisdom who makes a profound impact on the lives of her people. While I think readers looking for action or plot oriented fantasy will not know what to make of this novel, anyone who appreciates deep layers of character development will be awed by what Le Guin does here.
Excelsior
Friday, February 29, 2008
Local Authors in my library
I've been bugging the powers-that-be at my job to let me put up a book display for local authors for months now. It's something I feel that libraries should support more, and I think people would be surprised by all the authors who actually live in the area.
After two days off, I came in yesterday to find someone else had one set up.
It's not bad, I guess, just a little disappointing for me. There are several things by David Baldacci, VC Andrews, John Grisham---he's apparently bought himself a house somewhere near Charlottesville, Va. But the list they're working off of is very focused on Mystery/Thrillers. It's missing key figures, people like John Edgar Wideman, Neal Stephenson (who grew up in the Maryland suburbs and wrote his first couple of novels while living in Alexandria), Brenda Clough, and Henry Rollins. It's even missing historical folks with connections to the D.C. area like Walt Whitman and Edgar Allan Poe.
So, of course, I volunteered myself to help expand their list. I'll be basing it largely on the lists C.M. Mayo shared so graciously on her own blog here, but including a few of my own as well. Of course, I'll have to cut things based on what our library actually carries. I'm looking forward to it, and hope I have some actual time to work at the library instead of doing it all at home. But we'll see. Either way, it will be a labor of love. I'll post the final list here when it's done.
Excelsior.
After two days off, I came in yesterday to find someone else had one set up.
It's not bad, I guess, just a little disappointing for me. There are several things by David Baldacci, VC Andrews, John Grisham---he's apparently bought himself a house somewhere near Charlottesville, Va. But the list they're working off of is very focused on Mystery/Thrillers. It's missing key figures, people like John Edgar Wideman, Neal Stephenson (who grew up in the Maryland suburbs and wrote his first couple of novels while living in Alexandria), Brenda Clough, and Henry Rollins. It's even missing historical folks with connections to the D.C. area like Walt Whitman and Edgar Allan Poe.
So, of course, I volunteered myself to help expand their list. I'll be basing it largely on the lists C.M. Mayo shared so graciously on her own blog here, but including a few of my own as well. Of course, I'll have to cut things based on what our library actually carries. I'm looking forward to it, and hope I have some actual time to work at the library instead of doing it all at home. But we'll see. Either way, it will be a labor of love. I'll post the final list here when it's done.
Excelsior.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Review: Welcome to Shirley by Kelly McMasters
Most readers will have never heard of Shirley, a small, working-class town located 65 miles outside of New York City. But essayist Kelly McMasters, whose work has appeared in publications like the New York Times and The Washington Post, called Shirley home for most of her childhood. Her first book takes the tools of memoir, local history and science writing to create a disturbing yet loving portrait of her childhood home.
The town of Shirley began in the 1950’s when Walter T. Shirley, a retired Vaudeville huckster, established it as a place for people tired of big city life to settle down and return to small town values. But Shirley was a town that grew without a plan and never really took off; it faced constant problems with unemployment, poor services and even an unhealthy atmosphere. In the town’s backdrop is the Brookhaven National Laboratory, a government-funded facility that specializes in energy and medical research. In the 1990’s the lab mistakenly leaked tritium into Shirley’s groundwater supply, sparking a lawsuit as many felt the town’s unusual numbers of cancer victims were related to Brookhaven’s experiments.
McMasters’s style simplifies the complicated subjects of environmental science and economics into easily understood explorations of her own life. The personal moments revisited by McMasters are powerful and haunting, particularly the illness and death of her next-door neighbor caused by exposure to Brookhaven’s chemicals. The book includes maps and references that expand on the already information-packed narrative.
This was a review I agonized over. Individually each chapter is well written, thoughtful and meaningful. But the separate sections don't quite tie together, or at least they didn't for me. The chapters flip back and forth from memoir to historical essay to science writing, but it's hard to tell what big point McMasters wants us to take away. It's partly my own fault, my own narrative brain that craves a rising action, climax and epilogue with most everything I read. I wanted to see McMasters doing something to improve her town. But what we end up with is reportage, a book that exposes the world to all the hardships Shirley has endured over the last fifty years. If you go in expecting and accepting this her book will probably be a better read.
There's one thing I never questioned, though. McMasters still loves this town. It comes across so well that it might spur some readers to appreciate and even protect their own hometown. And any book that does that holds a power that makes it well worth reading.
Excelsior
The town of Shirley began in the 1950’s when Walter T. Shirley, a retired Vaudeville huckster, established it as a place for people tired of big city life to settle down and return to small town values. But Shirley was a town that grew without a plan and never really took off; it faced constant problems with unemployment, poor services and even an unhealthy atmosphere. In the town’s backdrop is the Brookhaven National Laboratory, a government-funded facility that specializes in energy and medical research. In the 1990’s the lab mistakenly leaked tritium into Shirley’s groundwater supply, sparking a lawsuit as many felt the town’s unusual numbers of cancer victims were related to Brookhaven’s experiments.
McMasters’s style simplifies the complicated subjects of environmental science and economics into easily understood explorations of her own life. The personal moments revisited by McMasters are powerful and haunting, particularly the illness and death of her next-door neighbor caused by exposure to Brookhaven’s chemicals. The book includes maps and references that expand on the already information-packed narrative.
This was a review I agonized over. Individually each chapter is well written, thoughtful and meaningful. But the separate sections don't quite tie together, or at least they didn't for me. The chapters flip back and forth from memoir to historical essay to science writing, but it's hard to tell what big point McMasters wants us to take away. It's partly my own fault, my own narrative brain that craves a rising action, climax and epilogue with most everything I read. I wanted to see McMasters doing something to improve her town. But what we end up with is reportage, a book that exposes the world to all the hardships Shirley has endured over the last fifty years. If you go in expecting and accepting this her book will probably be a better read.
There's one thing I never questioned, though. McMasters still loves this town. It comes across so well that it might spur some readers to appreciate and even protect their own hometown. And any book that does that holds a power that makes it well worth reading.
Excelsior
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Memories and Poetry: a Quasi-Review
This week I read Words in Your Face, a new book by poet/spoken word artist Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz on the history of the Slam Poetry movement. It's a decent book---maybe a bit overly NY City focused, but still a nice overview from the beginnings, to the mass popularity with shows on MTV and the current trends. All to be expected, I guess.
But what I wasn't expecting was how many memories this book would dredge up for me. I did my undergrad a couple of hours south of DC at James Madison University. I worked at the campus radio station WXJM, and helped edit the school's small literary journal. Like most kids, it was a formative time of my life, a time that exposed me to music, art, fiction and poetry that shaped my tastes and preferences more than any other point in my life. And while my classes certainly played a part it was often my outside-school activities that really shaped me.
I saw a flier for a Slam Poetry night at the Little Grill and I just thought it sounded cool. I had no idea what the term meant when I first heard it my sophomore year. Just the sound of those two words together, Slam and Poetry, was interesting to me. One so aggressive, the other so pensive, I didn't quite know what to make of it. I had to go, just to see what it was all about.
The LIttle Grill was a special place. It was a teeny-tiny vegetarian diner on the outskirts of town. Plain white walls decorated with old guitars and photos of Bob Dylan, it was a pretty popular lunch spot for the veggie crowd. At night the owner put on special events like small concerts, fiction readings and even Slam Poetry.
I went with one of my good friends at the time, a guy who went by the name of MC Legit. No, that wasn't his real name. He was a heavy set white kid with glasses from a posh suburb of northern Virginia and had a normal, white kid name. But he loved hip hop and had already recorded some singles on a DC label by the time he hit college. As odd it sounds now everyone called him Legit or Git, and never by his real name. Even now I barely remember what his real first name was.
We got there a few minutes early, and both got some vegetarian chili and cornbread. After a little bit, the owner of the Little Grill stood up and started to talk. The owner was a soft-spoken aging hippie type. Scruffy beard, ratty hair and so skinny I could have slung him over my shoulder and carried him around campus all day without any problem. Anyway, he went over the rules and who the judges were and people started reading. There would be three rounds and the winning poet would get a free meal.
It wasn't anything like what I would see on MTV a few years later. It was relaxed, casual---just a bunch of people getting up and reading their work straight off of the page. There were confessional poems, folk singers reading lyrics, rappers, imagist stuff, prose work, genre work, and more. Students read, professors from the University read and some people from the town read. It was a great event and I, eventually, got over my own shyness and read my own work aloud for the first time.
Nowadays when I go to readings I often hear people comment negatively about Slam events, all because they have this in your face NYC-MTV image in their minds of what Slam Poetry means. But in my experience, and it seems in Aptowicz's, there is a Slam event out there for every type of writer. Her book draws a wonderful portrait of a movement that's broader, fuller and deeper than I was expecting. And while it may not be as critical as some readers might want, it's a solid, informative read and well worth picking up for anyone interested in more recent trends in poetry, writing and performance that academia often ignores.
Excelsior
But what I wasn't expecting was how many memories this book would dredge up for me. I did my undergrad a couple of hours south of DC at James Madison University. I worked at the campus radio station WXJM, and helped edit the school's small literary journal. Like most kids, it was a formative time of my life, a time that exposed me to music, art, fiction and poetry that shaped my tastes and preferences more than any other point in my life. And while my classes certainly played a part it was often my outside-school activities that really shaped me.
I saw a flier for a Slam Poetry night at the Little Grill and I just thought it sounded cool. I had no idea what the term meant when I first heard it my sophomore year. Just the sound of those two words together, Slam and Poetry, was interesting to me. One so aggressive, the other so pensive, I didn't quite know what to make of it. I had to go, just to see what it was all about.
The LIttle Grill was a special place. It was a teeny-tiny vegetarian diner on the outskirts of town. Plain white walls decorated with old guitars and photos of Bob Dylan, it was a pretty popular lunch spot for the veggie crowd. At night the owner put on special events like small concerts, fiction readings and even Slam Poetry.
I went with one of my good friends at the time, a guy who went by the name of MC Legit. No, that wasn't his real name. He was a heavy set white kid with glasses from a posh suburb of northern Virginia and had a normal, white kid name. But he loved hip hop and had already recorded some singles on a DC label by the time he hit college. As odd it sounds now everyone called him Legit or Git, and never by his real name. Even now I barely remember what his real first name was.
We got there a few minutes early, and both got some vegetarian chili and cornbread. After a little bit, the owner of the Little Grill stood up and started to talk. The owner was a soft-spoken aging hippie type. Scruffy beard, ratty hair and so skinny I could have slung him over my shoulder and carried him around campus all day without any problem. Anyway, he went over the rules and who the judges were and people started reading. There would be three rounds and the winning poet would get a free meal.
It wasn't anything like what I would see on MTV a few years later. It was relaxed, casual---just a bunch of people getting up and reading their work straight off of the page. There were confessional poems, folk singers reading lyrics, rappers, imagist stuff, prose work, genre work, and more. Students read, professors from the University read and some people from the town read. It was a great event and I, eventually, got over my own shyness and read my own work aloud for the first time.
Nowadays when I go to readings I often hear people comment negatively about Slam events, all because they have this in your face NYC-MTV image in their minds of what Slam Poetry means. But in my experience, and it seems in Aptowicz's, there is a Slam event out there for every type of writer. Her book draws a wonderful portrait of a movement that's broader, fuller and deeper than I was expecting. And while it may not be as critical as some readers might want, it's a solid, informative read and well worth picking up for anyone interested in more recent trends in poetry, writing and performance that academia often ignores.
Excelsior
Monday, February 04, 2008
Jeff Lemire Interview Linkage
I spent a bit of the weekend catching up on various podcasts I just haven't had the time for. My favorite? By far it was this past week's Indie Spinner Rack.
This past week Mr. Phil and Charlito interview Jeff Lemire, a canadian cartoonist who's 2/3 done with a fantastic trilogy Essex County. I reviewed the first volume Tales from the Farm back here, and volume two Ghost Stories is towards the top of my to-be-read pile. Lemire's without a doubt a rising star in indie comics, and the interview really gets into his process of telling a story and how he creates his artwork. It's fascinating, and worth a listen for anyone who enjoys learning about the process of another artist.
Excelsior
This past week Mr. Phil and Charlito interview Jeff Lemire, a canadian cartoonist who's 2/3 done with a fantastic trilogy Essex County. I reviewed the first volume Tales from the Farm back here, and volume two Ghost Stories is towards the top of my to-be-read pile. Lemire's without a doubt a rising star in indie comics, and the interview really gets into his process of telling a story and how he creates his artwork. It's fascinating, and worth a listen for anyone who enjoys learning about the process of another artist.
Excelsior
Monday, January 28, 2008
Review: Sky Pirates of Valendor by Everett Soares
It's no secret that I like comic books and that I like high fantasy. But I have a general dislike when the two are crammed together. There's something about the imagery combined with the tropes of the story that make it feel awkward and rote to me. There a few exceptions, like the Wildstorm version of Red Sonja and the series Sojourn put out by the short-lived publisher CrossGen. And after reading the the premier issue, I'm hoping I can add Everett Soares's Sky Pirates of Valendor to the short list of fantasy comics that I enjoy.
Soares has created an unusual world, an almost Steampunk realm that mixes different levels of technology. Pirates don't command boats limited to the water but ships that fly in the sky. And characters with robotic arms might battle with swords and muskets while others may raise high-powered sniper rifles in their own defense. Magic seems to be present as well, complete with talking bears, Elves and prophecies.
Valendor sits ruled over by the Valen Empire, a rich but seemingly restrictive kingdom. The series hero is Tobin Manheim, the swashbuckling captain for the pirate ship Rogue's Revenge. He's Strong-headed, easy to anger but obviously has some leadership capabilities and a good sense of conniving. Our introduction to Manheim is a humorous scene dragging a dockmaster off of his boat for interrupting his time with a lady friend.
Manheim's hired by the Valen Empire to hunt down a ship that kidnapped a ranking official of the Empire. The catch is that he has to work with Gearz, a sexy but equally hard-headed woman with robotic arms. There's a history between the two we aren't privy to yet, but I can only imagine that coming to terms with their bad history will play a part of the series.
Drawn by Brian Brinlee and inked by Michael W. Keller, I have mixed feelings about the art. Some panels are gorgeous, especially those that focus on action or faces. But others seem like they were drawn more quickly, particularly the landscapes. They do Make some interesting choices with page layouts, most noticeably on the first page where they use a series of circles instead of the standard square panels to get across a first person point of view.
It's hard to say exactly where the story is going. This first issue is about setting the stage. We get glimpses of a world that seems large and well fleshed out, and it's a testament to Soare's writing that I'm curious to see more. While this will definitely be a series high on action, there are hints intrigue and clashes of personality as well. I'm curious to see how the different levels of tech really play out in this world. I like the suggestions of what's to come and only time will tell if the team can deliver that image to the page.
Excelsio
Soares has created an unusual world, an almost Steampunk realm that mixes different levels of technology. Pirates don't command boats limited to the water but ships that fly in the sky. And characters with robotic arms might battle with swords and muskets while others may raise high-powered sniper rifles in their own defense. Magic seems to be present as well, complete with talking bears, Elves and prophecies.
Valendor sits ruled over by the Valen Empire, a rich but seemingly restrictive kingdom. The series hero is Tobin Manheim, the swashbuckling captain for the pirate ship Rogue's Revenge. He's Strong-headed, easy to anger but obviously has some leadership capabilities and a good sense of conniving. Our introduction to Manheim is a humorous scene dragging a dockmaster off of his boat for interrupting his time with a lady friend.
Manheim's hired by the Valen Empire to hunt down a ship that kidnapped a ranking official of the Empire. The catch is that he has to work with Gearz, a sexy but equally hard-headed woman with robotic arms. There's a history between the two we aren't privy to yet, but I can only imagine that coming to terms with their bad history will play a part of the series.
Drawn by Brian Brinlee and inked by Michael W. Keller, I have mixed feelings about the art. Some panels are gorgeous, especially those that focus on action or faces. But others seem like they were drawn more quickly, particularly the landscapes. They do Make some interesting choices with page layouts, most noticeably on the first page where they use a series of circles instead of the standard square panels to get across a first person point of view.
It's hard to say exactly where the story is going. This first issue is about setting the stage. We get glimpses of a world that seems large and well fleshed out, and it's a testament to Soare's writing that I'm curious to see more. While this will definitely be a series high on action, there are hints intrigue and clashes of personality as well. I'm curious to see how the different levels of tech really play out in this world. I like the suggestions of what's to come and only time will tell if the team can deliver that image to the page.
Excelsio
Friday, January 25, 2008
AWP Rant
Well the annual AWP conference starts up next week in NYC.
Even though I let my membership lapse more than a year ago---I just can't afford it right now with the cost of classes---I've gotten more invites to things than when I actually was a member. Individual emails and snail mail fliers about specific lectures and panel discussions. Notices from different publishers about their booth number in the sales room. Invites to readings and parties off-site. There's even a sub-conference going, a quasi-protest to AWP that some writers and small publishers are holding on their own in nearby bars, restaurants and meeting room so they can discuss things they feel AWP doesn't include.
It looks like a great conference. I'd love to hit things like "Breaking Lines on the Battlefield: Poetry of Wartime", moderated by Sandra Beasley. I'd like to here what Jennifer Egan and Lydia Davis have to say about Wit and Social Commentary in Contemporary Fiction. And the various pedagogy forums would be fun, because I'd really like to develop a way to work in fiction writing sessions at whatever library I end up working at. But it's not in the cards for me this year, both because of time and money.
I do wonder, though, why we keep having these conferences related to books and literature in NYC and other similar cities. Over the next few years AWP is hitting Chicago, Denver, D.C. and Boston. Oh, I understand why. All of these cities host a large number of publishing houses and schools with writing programs. It's easier to do and gives the local venues a chance to show off. But aside from the one in Baltimore a few years ago, these are all obvious choices. How about a city like Kansas City, which has a very strong performance art tradition and a growing writing community? Or Boise? Or Spokane, which has a really strong indie press scene? I worry about the writing community a little when it becomes too clubby and too inward looking.
Bah. Ignore me. I'm probably just extra grouchy because I'm not going this year and because the little man in my head is pounding a hammer on the inside of my skull, giving me a deliciously painful headache. If you're going to AWP and you blog, share some stories so us poor saps not attending can live vicariously through you. And have a good time.
Excelsior.
Even though I let my membership lapse more than a year ago---I just can't afford it right now with the cost of classes---I've gotten more invites to things than when I actually was a member. Individual emails and snail mail fliers about specific lectures and panel discussions. Notices from different publishers about their booth number in the sales room. Invites to readings and parties off-site. There's even a sub-conference going, a quasi-protest to AWP that some writers and small publishers are holding on their own in nearby bars, restaurants and meeting room so they can discuss things they feel AWP doesn't include.
It looks like a great conference. I'd love to hit things like "Breaking Lines on the Battlefield: Poetry of Wartime", moderated by Sandra Beasley. I'd like to here what Jennifer Egan and Lydia Davis have to say about Wit and Social Commentary in Contemporary Fiction. And the various pedagogy forums would be fun, because I'd really like to develop a way to work in fiction writing sessions at whatever library I end up working at. But it's not in the cards for me this year, both because of time and money.
I do wonder, though, why we keep having these conferences related to books and literature in NYC and other similar cities. Over the next few years AWP is hitting Chicago, Denver, D.C. and Boston. Oh, I understand why. All of these cities host a large number of publishing houses and schools with writing programs. It's easier to do and gives the local venues a chance to show off. But aside from the one in Baltimore a few years ago, these are all obvious choices. How about a city like Kansas City, which has a very strong performance art tradition and a growing writing community? Or Boise? Or Spokane, which has a really strong indie press scene? I worry about the writing community a little when it becomes too clubby and too inward looking.
Bah. Ignore me. I'm probably just extra grouchy because I'm not going this year and because the little man in my head is pounding a hammer on the inside of my skull, giving me a deliciously painful headache. If you're going to AWP and you blog, share some stories so us poor saps not attending can live vicariously through you. And have a good time.
Excelsior.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Review: Death of the Little Match Girl by Zoran Feric
If you've never heard of Zoran Feric, you're not alone. Although he's published several novels in his native Croatian language, little other than the odd short story has made it into English. Autumn Hill Books corrects that with Tomislav Kuzmanovic's translation of Feric's darkly odd novel Death of the Little Match Girl.
The story opens simply enough. Fero is a pathologist who lives and works in Romania. The death of a childhood friend's daughter draws him back home to Rab, a small island in the Adriatic Sea, to attend the funeral. The opening chapter is a parade of odd characters as Fero reminisces about his past life in this small town. It becomes quickly apparent that this is not a normal funeral when the priest reads the wrong eulogy and the resident crazy man of the town---who looks like Balzac in flip flops--- insists on reciting a non-sensical bit of prose at the podium.
Things are all told through Fero's darkly comic mouth, which gives us an unending supply of comments that range from the funny to the unnerving. Pontificating on the fate of the little girl's soul in the afterlife, Fero thinks: What would happen to her now in heaven's open fields, where all sorts of wishes come true? Would she grow a tiny wee wee?.
A number of Fero's thoughts made me chuckle, others made me say "Huh?", and a few---like the above---kind of did both. Especially all the jokes about Auschwitz. I'm not sure America is quite ready for holocaust humor.
A death occurs shortly after the funeral and the island's police inspector, an old buddy of Fero's, asks Fero to lend his expertise as a pathologist. You see, it's not just anyone who's died. It's the towns only stripper and prostitute. But this stripper had a big secret, yes she did. Or is it a he? No one's really quite sure.
After that things just get weird.
The longer Fero stays the more involved in the general oddities of the island of Rab he gets. He meets more old friends, and meeting more old friends leads into more bizarre cases. We've get a a thief who steals the endings out of library books, a gravedigger, Franciscan monks performing exorcisms, strange metallic statues appearing across the town overnight and a snuff film making the rounds of everyone's VHS player that may or may not be evidence in the stripper's murder. A large part of what Feric's doing is lampooning the style of the crime novel by smacking it on it's behind and sticking his own tongue out at the same time. The hero stumbles into his cases and pretty much solves them in the same way---if you can really say he solves them. It's not Inspector Clouseau slapstick or hardboiled Philip Marlowe, but something indefinably between the two.
I get the same feeling from Feric's writing that I get from Terry Pratchett and Christopher Moore, that he's laughing the whole time he's writing. But his jokes are a lot dirtier and profoundly politically incorrect, at least by U.S. standards. The novel's title, for example, has nothing to do with the old folk tale of the little match girl. It's a bad sexual pun about the size of the dead prostitute's male genitalia.
I can't personally vouch for the quality of the translation, because I don't know the first thing about translating from Croatian. I can say it's phrased in a style that's descriptive and sometimes even thoughtful, but still easy to read in a commercial, mainstream kind of way. I have a nagging suspicion I'm missing something because I don't know enough about that part of the world. Some secret joke, some cultural reference, something that takes this to a higher level of meaning. But for the life of me I can't begin to tell you what it might be. While its lewd content prevents me suggesting this to just anyone, I can say I had a good time with this. It's all smartly written, embarrassingly funny and I enjoyed it despite myself. Readers with a thick skin and an open mind will have a good time, but sensitive souls would do best to stay away.
Excelsior
The story opens simply enough. Fero is a pathologist who lives and works in Romania. The death of a childhood friend's daughter draws him back home to Rab, a small island in the Adriatic Sea, to attend the funeral. The opening chapter is a parade of odd characters as Fero reminisces about his past life in this small town. It becomes quickly apparent that this is not a normal funeral when the priest reads the wrong eulogy and the resident crazy man of the town---who looks like Balzac in flip flops--- insists on reciting a non-sensical bit of prose at the podium.
Things are all told through Fero's darkly comic mouth, which gives us an unending supply of comments that range from the funny to the unnerving. Pontificating on the fate of the little girl's soul in the afterlife, Fero thinks: What would happen to her now in heaven's open fields, where all sorts of wishes come true? Would she grow a tiny wee wee?.
A number of Fero's thoughts made me chuckle, others made me say "Huh?", and a few---like the above---kind of did both. Especially all the jokes about Auschwitz. I'm not sure America is quite ready for holocaust humor.
A death occurs shortly after the funeral and the island's police inspector, an old buddy of Fero's, asks Fero to lend his expertise as a pathologist. You see, it's not just anyone who's died. It's the towns only stripper and prostitute. But this stripper had a big secret, yes she did. Or is it a he? No one's really quite sure.
After that things just get weird.
The longer Fero stays the more involved in the general oddities of the island of Rab he gets. He meets more old friends, and meeting more old friends leads into more bizarre cases. We've get a a thief who steals the endings out of library books, a gravedigger, Franciscan monks performing exorcisms, strange metallic statues appearing across the town overnight and a snuff film making the rounds of everyone's VHS player that may or may not be evidence in the stripper's murder. A large part of what Feric's doing is lampooning the style of the crime novel by smacking it on it's behind and sticking his own tongue out at the same time. The hero stumbles into his cases and pretty much solves them in the same way---if you can really say he solves them. It's not Inspector Clouseau slapstick or hardboiled Philip Marlowe, but something indefinably between the two.
I get the same feeling from Feric's writing that I get from Terry Pratchett and Christopher Moore, that he's laughing the whole time he's writing. But his jokes are a lot dirtier and profoundly politically incorrect, at least by U.S. standards. The novel's title, for example, has nothing to do with the old folk tale of the little match girl. It's a bad sexual pun about the size of the dead prostitute's male genitalia.
I can't personally vouch for the quality of the translation, because I don't know the first thing about translating from Croatian. I can say it's phrased in a style that's descriptive and sometimes even thoughtful, but still easy to read in a commercial, mainstream kind of way. I have a nagging suspicion I'm missing something because I don't know enough about that part of the world. Some secret joke, some cultural reference, something that takes this to a higher level of meaning. But for the life of me I can't begin to tell you what it might be. While its lewd content prevents me suggesting this to just anyone, I can say I had a good time with this. It's all smartly written, embarrassingly funny and I enjoyed it despite myself. Readers with a thick skin and an open mind will have a good time, but sensitive souls would do best to stay away.
Excelsior
Monday, January 21, 2008
Review: Sentences: The Life of MF Grimm by Percy Carey
I actually read this awhile ago and wrote a short review for School Library Journal, but never bothered to write up anything for this glorious space here. I had mixed feelings about this book, and I got a bit lazy. But Percy Carey's graphic novel Sentences seemed to be on everyone's mind when I was at the ALA conference a week ago. Vertigo/DC had a table in the showroom and was pushing it hard, but several people were just talking about it. People who don't know much about graphic novels were asking me about this title when they learned I read comics. It was only yesterday after I bothered to do some searches online that I found it's on a ton of best of 2007 lists. So I figured I had to toss in my 2 cents.
Author Percy Carey is better known as the underground hip-hop front man and lyricist MF Grimm. Billed as his first literary work, Carey uses the form of the graphic novel to bring a dark and frank portrayal of his own life. The story opens with Carey as a young boy growing up in NY City and working as a child actor on the set of Sesame Street. It’s a great opener for the book, all told with dark humor as Carey spoils the magic of television by telling his friends about the actors inside the suits of Big Bird and Snuffleluffagas. Things quickly move to high school, and we see a contradictory teen who both loves to read books like To Kill a Mockingbird and to create all kinds of trouble in the halls of school and the streets of NY City.
Carey finally starts making his own way in life by joining the early 90's world of Hip Hop, entering Slam competitions and appearing on some early recordings. Fans of the time period will love the appearances of big names like GZA and Snoop Dogg and how they both helped and challenged Carey throughout his career. Unfortunately, to make ends meet Carey sells drugs with his older half-brother and runs across continual problems with the law and competitors. The latter portion of the book focuses on a shooting that leaves Carey paralyzed and how he learns to deal with his life in new, thoughtful ways.
The most immediate draw of the book is Ronald Wimberly's fantastic artwork (check out his blog for further samples of his style). He illustrates Carey's childhood in a manner that's slightly cartoony and fun, and then images get progressively realistic and dark as the portrayal of Carey's life continues. Full of solid blacks, whites, and grays, the pages are almost claustrophobic in the way the images threaten to crush Carey as he struggles to not just succeed but survive in this violent world.
Unfortunately, Carey breaks one of the big rules of storytelling; he does a lot of telling without really showing. His style is high on narration. While this makes the delivery personal---almost like a diary---through his strong voice, it limits the dramatic impact of the big events. The events in Carey's life move by rather quickly, weakening the impact of what would otherwise be a powerful message of hope and making your own second chances.
Carey's used to writing for hip-hop, not in developing a longer form tale. I suspect that has a large part to do with how he told his story. I just wish an editor had stepped in and made him expand things---with everything Carey covers this could have easily been another massive book of entertaining depth like Thompson's Blankets. I understand why so many have put this on their list of favorite books of 2007. The themes are big and challenging, and it addresses ideas all too often ignored in literature of any kind. But I came away a little let down by the promise of what should have been a fantastic book. It is a quick read, though. And fans of Hip Hop will enjoy both the core and the background to the story, while other readers might be drawn in by subject matter too rarely covered in comics.
Excelsior.
Author Percy Carey is better known as the underground hip-hop front man and lyricist MF Grimm. Billed as his first literary work, Carey uses the form of the graphic novel to bring a dark and frank portrayal of his own life. The story opens with Carey as a young boy growing up in NY City and working as a child actor on the set of Sesame Street. It’s a great opener for the book, all told with dark humor as Carey spoils the magic of television by telling his friends about the actors inside the suits of Big Bird and Snuffleluffagas. Things quickly move to high school, and we see a contradictory teen who both loves to read books like To Kill a Mockingbird and to create all kinds of trouble in the halls of school and the streets of NY City.
Carey finally starts making his own way in life by joining the early 90's world of Hip Hop, entering Slam competitions and appearing on some early recordings. Fans of the time period will love the appearances of big names like GZA and Snoop Dogg and how they both helped and challenged Carey throughout his career. Unfortunately, to make ends meet Carey sells drugs with his older half-brother and runs across continual problems with the law and competitors. The latter portion of the book focuses on a shooting that leaves Carey paralyzed and how he learns to deal with his life in new, thoughtful ways.
The most immediate draw of the book is Ronald Wimberly's fantastic artwork (check out his blog for further samples of his style). He illustrates Carey's childhood in a manner that's slightly cartoony and fun, and then images get progressively realistic and dark as the portrayal of Carey's life continues. Full of solid blacks, whites, and grays, the pages are almost claustrophobic in the way the images threaten to crush Carey as he struggles to not just succeed but survive in this violent world.
Unfortunately, Carey breaks one of the big rules of storytelling; he does a lot of telling without really showing. His style is high on narration. While this makes the delivery personal---almost like a diary---through his strong voice, it limits the dramatic impact of the big events. The events in Carey's life move by rather quickly, weakening the impact of what would otherwise be a powerful message of hope and making your own second chances.
Carey's used to writing for hip-hop, not in developing a longer form tale. I suspect that has a large part to do with how he told his story. I just wish an editor had stepped in and made him expand things---with everything Carey covers this could have easily been another massive book of entertaining depth like Thompson's Blankets. I understand why so many have put this on their list of favorite books of 2007. The themes are big and challenging, and it addresses ideas all too often ignored in literature of any kind. But I came away a little let down by the promise of what should have been a fantastic book. It is a quick read, though. And fans of Hip Hop will enjoy both the core and the background to the story, while other readers might be drawn in by subject matter too rarely covered in comics.
Excelsior.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Week One of My Last Semester
My one class this term---my last term---is a Young Adult Literature class. The class will be a a lot of work, but fun work. We're reading 2-3 books a week and have a handful of large projects. We're reading a lot of the "classic" books for young adults, which is good for me. I've read some of the newer ones over the past year, but somehow I've missed a lot of the classics. The most contemporary thing I read for classes in high school was probably Herman Melville. Plus when I was a teen Young Adult sections in libraries didn't really exist. I just didn't get exposed to what we call Young Adult books now. I pretty much lived in the sci-fi section and rarely ventured anywhere else unless I had to. I'm looking forward to it, because It'll fill in a lot of holes in what I've read. I'll probably share short, abridged reviews of what I read, just to make sure I'm thinking about these books fully.
The prof is the head librarian at a private high school, so he's bringing in a perspective I haven't gotten yet. I like him, probably because his teaching attitude is much like my own. Laid back, open to ideas and putting much of the responsibility as far as big assignments and being ready to discuss everyday on the students. As much as I've enjoyed my program, a couple of the profs treat the grad students like they're still in high school.
Our first "project" is a short personal essay about our reading habits: what they were like when we were teens, what they are like now and how these reading habits can help or hurt our working with teens. Depending on how my essay goes, I might share it here as well. At the very least, I'll being sharing an odd mixture of book reviews of the next several days.
Excelsior
The prof is the head librarian at a private high school, so he's bringing in a perspective I haven't gotten yet. I like him, probably because his teaching attitude is much like my own. Laid back, open to ideas and putting much of the responsibility as far as big assignments and being ready to discuss everyday on the students. As much as I've enjoyed my program, a couple of the profs treat the grad students like they're still in high school.
Our first "project" is a short personal essay about our reading habits: what they were like when we were teens, what they are like now and how these reading habits can help or hurt our working with teens. Depending on how my essay goes, I might share it here as well. At the very least, I'll being sharing an odd mixture of book reviews of the next several days.
Excelsior
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
So...What Kind of Librarian Are You?
I made it through the conference in Philly A-Ok. I'm not going to do an event by event account of what I did because, frankly, that would be damn boring.
Probably my favorite event, though, was the Best Books for Young Adults meeting on Sunday afternoon. Every year librarians put their heads together and come up with a list of the "best" books for teens published over the past year. What made this event so special is that a group of teens from a small high school in Colorado---not sure how they were chosen---were invited to speak their minds about the chosen titles. It was a rare chance to hear from straight from teens what they liked, what they didn't like and why. For books they only kind of liked there comments were pretty smart and incisive; they dug into ideas of depth of character, believability, theme, setting and so on. But when they were passionate about something----on either side---their emotions got the better of them. It was a lot of fun and a good reminder of why librarians do what they do.
The question that kept coming up to me, though, was what kind of librarian are you? Whether I was at a sales presentation from a database company, a panel discussion on challenges for community college libraries, or teaching writing to teens at a library, I think it was something I was asked at nearly everything I went to. I suppose it was the conference equivalent of cocktail party talk, when a stranger asks, "So, what do you do?" as an opener to conversation. Just more specified since everyone assumes you're a librarian since you're at a conference.
Part of why I was asked so frequently is probably because I don't fit neatly into any one category. At least by appearances. For starters, I'm a guy. And while some guys go into public libraries they are few and far between. Secondly, I was donning casual attire. Non-descript khakis, dress shirt and a sweater. Most corporate librarians come dressed in full suits. So while that might leave me looking like a university librarian I don't quite have that befuddled look down yet. You know---that special glassy-eyed look people get when they've spend the last twenty years of their life researching and thinking about research. Probably in time, though, I'll have it down.
Trouble is, I don't know 100% what kind of librarian I want to be. I came into library school balanced on a precipice of indecision between public and academic, and I'm still teetering on that same precipice. I like the atmosphere of a public library---it's fun, it's open and has wonderful potential to really help people. And I've really enjoyed the little bits of work I've been allowed to do with teens at my library. But I hate how tied everything is to circulation and that virtually everything gets phrased in the context of how it increases the circulation of the library. Academic libraries aren't quite that focused on circulation, but I don't look forward to having to kiss the behinds of department heads. I want to primarily help students, not faculty. But helping faculty could be a large part of the job, especially at a big school. If I work at a college I think it would have to be a small liberal arts school and not a huge university.
Ah well. In the end it will probably end up depending on where the jobs are when I graduate.
Excelsior
Probably my favorite event, though, was the Best Books for Young Adults meeting on Sunday afternoon. Every year librarians put their heads together and come up with a list of the "best" books for teens published over the past year. What made this event so special is that a group of teens from a small high school in Colorado---not sure how they were chosen---were invited to speak their minds about the chosen titles. It was a rare chance to hear from straight from teens what they liked, what they didn't like and why. For books they only kind of liked there comments were pretty smart and incisive; they dug into ideas of depth of character, believability, theme, setting and so on. But when they were passionate about something----on either side---their emotions got the better of them. It was a lot of fun and a good reminder of why librarians do what they do.
The question that kept coming up to me, though, was what kind of librarian are you? Whether I was at a sales presentation from a database company, a panel discussion on challenges for community college libraries, or teaching writing to teens at a library, I think it was something I was asked at nearly everything I went to. I suppose it was the conference equivalent of cocktail party talk, when a stranger asks, "So, what do you do?" as an opener to conversation. Just more specified since everyone assumes you're a librarian since you're at a conference.
Part of why I was asked so frequently is probably because I don't fit neatly into any one category. At least by appearances. For starters, I'm a guy. And while some guys go into public libraries they are few and far between. Secondly, I was donning casual attire. Non-descript khakis, dress shirt and a sweater. Most corporate librarians come dressed in full suits. So while that might leave me looking like a university librarian I don't quite have that befuddled look down yet. You know---that special glassy-eyed look people get when they've spend the last twenty years of their life researching and thinking about research. Probably in time, though, I'll have it down.
Trouble is, I don't know 100% what kind of librarian I want to be. I came into library school balanced on a precipice of indecision between public and academic, and I'm still teetering on that same precipice. I like the atmosphere of a public library---it's fun, it's open and has wonderful potential to really help people. And I've really enjoyed the little bits of work I've been allowed to do with teens at my library. But I hate how tied everything is to circulation and that virtually everything gets phrased in the context of how it increases the circulation of the library. Academic libraries aren't quite that focused on circulation, but I don't look forward to having to kiss the behinds of department heads. I want to primarily help students, not faculty. But helping faculty could be a large part of the job, especially at a big school. If I work at a college I think it would have to be a small liberal arts school and not a huge university.
Ah well. In the end it will probably end up depending on where the jobs are when I graduate.
Excelsior
Friday, January 11, 2008
Day One at ALA Midwinter
I made it to Philly safe and sound. I'm staying at a Holiday Inn on the edge of the historic district. I was a little worried about it because the online reviews were pretty mixed. The hotel itself is fine---the rooms are small, but clean. There is a fire station across the street and I can hear sirens every now and then, but it's a city. Most importantly it has free wi-fi and it's a short half mile walk to the convention center where ALA Midwinter is being held.
After I got set up in the hotel, I made the stroll down to the convention. Right next to the hotel is Christ Church Cemetery, where old Ben Franklin is buried. Along the way I passed the Constitution Center, Philly's African American Museum, and China Town. It's going to be hard to resist the temptation to ignore the conference meetings I came for and hit all the historic sites instead. If the daylight is nice tomorrow I'll take some pictures of things in between meetings.
After getting registered and picking up the required badge and tote bag----what is it with librarians and tote bags---I wandered into the exhibition hall. It's a bit overwhelming, to say the least. There are vendors you'd expect: publishers, database providers, video distributors. But there are vendors for everything else under the sun as well: carpet companies, furniture stores, book carts, and on and on. For reasons beyond my understanding, they even had a tooth whitening stand (in just twelve minutes, you too can have a whiter, brighter smile).
The only thing on my agenda tonight was the YALSA Gaming Night. It was fun, but not quite what I was expecting. Basically, YALSA set up about ten game consoles in a ballroom and provided some food and drink. People---myself included---strolled around and tried things out. I tested out Wii bowling, Guitar Hero, and a couple of racing. They were fun but I was expecting a bit more from the event. Some discussions, presentations or even a little friendly tournament to give it a bit more structure. As it was, it was a nice social mixer, but for $40 I was expecting a little more.
Tomorrow I'm up at 7:30 for an early breakfast meeting with a database provider, and then I'll try to hit some cool stuff throughout the day. Until next time...
Excelsior
After I got set up in the hotel, I made the stroll down to the convention. Right next to the hotel is Christ Church Cemetery, where old Ben Franklin is buried. Along the way I passed the Constitution Center, Philly's African American Museum, and China Town. It's going to be hard to resist the temptation to ignore the conference meetings I came for and hit all the historic sites instead. If the daylight is nice tomorrow I'll take some pictures of things in between meetings.
After getting registered and picking up the required badge and tote bag----what is it with librarians and tote bags---I wandered into the exhibition hall. It's a bit overwhelming, to say the least. There are vendors you'd expect: publishers, database providers, video distributors. But there are vendors for everything else under the sun as well: carpet companies, furniture stores, book carts, and on and on. For reasons beyond my understanding, they even had a tooth whitening stand (in just twelve minutes, you too can have a whiter, brighter smile).
The only thing on my agenda tonight was the YALSA Gaming Night. It was fun, but not quite what I was expecting. Basically, YALSA set up about ten game consoles in a ballroom and provided some food and drink. People---myself included---strolled around and tried things out. I tested out Wii bowling, Guitar Hero, and a couple of racing. They were fun but I was expecting a bit more from the event. Some discussions, presentations or even a little friendly tournament to give it a bit more structure. As it was, it was a nice social mixer, but for $40 I was expecting a little more.
Tomorrow I'm up at 7:30 for an early breakfast meeting with a database provider, and then I'll try to hit some cool stuff throughout the day. Until next time...
Excelsior
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Another Year Another...Well, Something
Yesterday I turned the ripe old age of 35. It was good birthday, I guess. I spent a half-day at work, where all my co-workers wished me well. We've been enjoying 60 degree temps here in the DC area the last few days, so in the afternoon I went on a 6 mile hike and reminded myself why I like being outside. And last night I enjoyed a BBQ sandwich and a beer in a dive restaurant in Nowheresville, Va, with my friend Jim. I rounded off the night re-reading some old short stories---HP Lovecraft, mostly---listening to music by my birthday buddies Elvis and David Bowie, and thinking about the past year.
The past year has been a pretty good one. I published one short story, moved along further through grad school, and Miss L said yes when I asked her to marry me. The next year, though, will be even bigger. Over the next year I'll be graduating, finding another job, moving in with Miss L and getting married. If all goes well, all in that order.
It's a lot for one year but I'm hoping for some other things as well. Time to write and read more what I want to read and write, not just what people tell me to read and write. After I move I hope to find the wacky writerly community wherever I end up living (Baltimore?). And maybe some music lessons if I can find a good teacher. I really miss playing bass.
I'm not much for horoscopes, but I do often look at the "If today's your birthday" in the Washington Post. Here's what they have to say for my life in 2008:
Your devotion to those you love is unparalleled. Your strong feelings make taking the right action effortless. Moves and new friends are featured in February. Tell your stories in March. Your financial picture picks up in June when one bold move gets you noticed by those who can pay you well. Virgo and Gemini adore you.
I don't know about the first half, but the rest seems dead on. I know I have one older short story that will finally be giving a life in print later this year, and I think it may actually be in March. Although I'm not positive. And it looks like the new job will be in June, which sounds about right. We'll see how it all goes.
This weekend I'm heading just a bit north to Philly for the American Library Association's Mid-Winter conference. I'm sure I'll have things to blog about there, especially the gaming event and dinner on Friday night.
Excelsior.
The past year has been a pretty good one. I published one short story, moved along further through grad school, and Miss L said yes when I asked her to marry me. The next year, though, will be even bigger. Over the next year I'll be graduating, finding another job, moving in with Miss L and getting married. If all goes well, all in that order.
It's a lot for one year but I'm hoping for some other things as well. Time to write and read more what I want to read and write, not just what people tell me to read and write. After I move I hope to find the wacky writerly community wherever I end up living (Baltimore?). And maybe some music lessons if I can find a good teacher. I really miss playing bass.
I'm not much for horoscopes, but I do often look at the "If today's your birthday" in the Washington Post. Here's what they have to say for my life in 2008:
Your devotion to those you love is unparalleled. Your strong feelings make taking the right action effortless. Moves and new friends are featured in February. Tell your stories in March. Your financial picture picks up in June when one bold move gets you noticed by those who can pay you well. Virgo and Gemini adore you.
I don't know about the first half, but the rest seems dead on. I know I have one older short story that will finally be giving a life in print later this year, and I think it may actually be in March. Although I'm not positive. And it looks like the new job will be in June, which sounds about right. We'll see how it all goes.
This weekend I'm heading just a bit north to Philly for the American Library Association's Mid-Winter conference. I'm sure I'll have things to blog about there, especially the gaming event and dinner on Friday night.
Excelsior.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Good Reading Means a Happy Mind
The past couple of weeks I've been checking things out from the library, hoping to catch up on reading some good fiction while I'm in-between semesters. Sadly, I haven't been having much luck. I usually give myself about 50 pages for a novel to start moving before I give up on it, and so far I've given up on four. But today I started something seems really promising.
Joe Hill, whose novel Heart Shaped Box I reviewed way back here, has a short story collection Twentieth Century Ghosts that opens with a story entitled "Best American Horror". It's a wonderful horror story for people who like to think of themselves as more literary-minded (ie, nerds like myself). The main character is the editor for a yearly anthology of the best American Horror published each year. He's sent a short story from the editor of a University-based lit mag, and it renews his wavering faith in the art of horror fiction. The rest of the story focuses on the editor's search for the author.
Hill sits in that unusual place of really seeming to know both the literary publishing world and the genre publishing world, and how their own ideas of snobberies dictate what they like to read and publish. Although a very short tale, HIll manages to include a number of barbs towards both sides of publishing.
When the editor finally tracks down the author of this terrifying tale, he finds himself face to face with a horror villain come to life. While definitely a twist ending, it was an ending that made sense and wasn't all about shock like so many horror stories are anymore. I was really impressed by how Hill shapes the story; it's paced in a slower, more character-driven fashion and he never resorts to gore for gore's sake. Nothing against gore. I love splatterpunk. But there are other ways to do horror, and Hill seems to be working a more subtle method pretty well here. I'm looking forward to digging into the rest of this over the next few days.
Excelsior.
Joe Hill, whose novel Heart Shaped Box I reviewed way back here, has a short story collection Twentieth Century Ghosts that opens with a story entitled "Best American Horror". It's a wonderful horror story for people who like to think of themselves as more literary-minded (ie, nerds like myself). The main character is the editor for a yearly anthology of the best American Horror published each year. He's sent a short story from the editor of a University-based lit mag, and it renews his wavering faith in the art of horror fiction. The rest of the story focuses on the editor's search for the author.
Hill sits in that unusual place of really seeming to know both the literary publishing world and the genre publishing world, and how their own ideas of snobberies dictate what they like to read and publish. Although a very short tale, HIll manages to include a number of barbs towards both sides of publishing.
When the editor finally tracks down the author of this terrifying tale, he finds himself face to face with a horror villain come to life. While definitely a twist ending, it was an ending that made sense and wasn't all about shock like so many horror stories are anymore. I was really impressed by how Hill shapes the story; it's paced in a slower, more character-driven fashion and he never resorts to gore for gore's sake. Nothing against gore. I love splatterpunk. But there are other ways to do horror, and Hill seems to be working a more subtle method pretty well here. I'm looking forward to digging into the rest of this over the next few days.
Excelsior.
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