Category: Fiction Page 343 of 349

Dusted Off: The Ides of April

which means it’s time for me to post this quote again.

A man condemning the income tax because of the annoyance it gives him or the expense it puts him to is merely a dog baring its teeth, and he forfeits the privileges of civilized discourse. But it is permissible to criticize it on other and impersonal grounds. A government, like an individual, spends money for any or all of three reasons: because it needs to, because it wants to, or simply because it has it to spend. The last is much the shabbiest. It is arguable, if not manifest, that a substantial proportion of this great spring flood of billions pouring into the Treasury will in effect get spent for that last shabby reason.

–Nero Wolfe

Dusted Off: In nomine pizza domine!

a quick peak into my geekery:

*

Thanks to the virtual signing hosted by Dog Eared Books last week, I received my signed copy of the new Dresden Files novel, Turn Coat this weekend. This being the, I think, 6th signed book in my meager library,** this one is obviously being added to my “do not loan” list–honestly, not sure I’m going to let myself read it.

——

*The inscription, “In nomine pizza domine!” is the battle cry of Toot-Toot and his dewdrop faerie friends, as they attack the Summer Court in Summer Knight.

**I fully expect certain readers, like TLomL, will dispute the use of the word “meager.” On this, however, she is uncharacteristically wrong.

Dusted Off: Batman: Cacophony

Kevin Smith returned to comics with a 3-part Batman mini, which, believe it or not, actually came out within 3 months of the first issue going on sale (am betting DC didn’t announce the project ’til they had 3 scripts out of the criminally tardy writer).

Onomatopoeia, created by Smith in his heralded Green Arrow story, comes to Gotham and frees the Joker from Arkham Asylum (creating a little havoc along the way). Naturally, Batman leads the search for the Joker, who’s essentially being used by his liberator as bait. Along the way, we get some interesting b-stories (one involving a designer drug made with the Joker’s poison), and some great dialogue (Alfred, in particular, was pitch-perfect).

The final confrontation between the Batman and Joker here is one of the better I’ve read–far better than the conversation in The Killing Joke.

All in all, a good story. Nothing fantastic, but a good solid story. Emblematic of what comics should be–and all too often aren’t. Smith didn’t stretch a 3-issue tale over 6 issues to make a better trade paperback, he didn’t “permanently” alter a character or anything. Character, plot, resolution–thanks for coming, have a nice day.

Smith delivered a story, not an event. Now, unlike Joe Quesada, I’m not against character growth, character development and change–but I am weary of the world-changing, character dying (temporarily), “we’re gonna change the face of [insert comic company name here] forever” events. DC currently has 2 such events going on that are naturally opposed to each other–one is posited on the idea that Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman are so integral to the make-up of reality that without them the nature of the world is permanently altered. The other has Batman dead and a battle to replace him as Gotham’s protector waging. Which is it boys? Pick one!

Just tell good stories, and when you decide to have something epoch-changing happen–let it happen and move on, telling stories that come from that. Leave Barry Allen dead, leave Jason Todd dead (why, why, DC, ruin 2 of the best moments of the 80’s?), leave Peter Parker married (and outed, since you made that stupid move), leave Steve Rogers in the ground. I swear, if Sue Dibney lives again I will blow something up (and I really liked Sue).

Ooops, seem to have gotten off on a rant there, time to bring it home…Cacophony‘s a great example of what comics should be. I just hope someone out there in a corporate office remembers that one day.

Dusted Off: The Little Sleep

Paul Tremblay‘s debut novel, The Little Sleep, not only sports a eye-catching title, but a premise that’s just as intriguing.

Obviously, the title’s supposed to get the reader thinking of noir classic, The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler–so one expects the lone-wolf, tougher than nails, sardonically witty gumshoe typified by Philip Marlowe. But Tremblay’s protagonist, Mark Genevich, has one challenge his predecessors in the genre doesn’t have…he’s a narcoleptic. So he’s falling asleep, hallucinating and losing control of his body and the most inconvenient times (for Genevich, anyway…the occasionally seem a convenient deus ex machina to get Tremblay out of a scene).

Initially, the book didn’t do much for me–had a hard time caring for Genevich or his problem, his client, and the early chapters seemed a little too erratic. But I hung in there, and eventually, Genevich explains his disorder enough that you can accept the bouncing-around nature of the first chapters. I’m still not sure how sympathetic Tremblay ever makes him, but you do at least start to want him to figure out what’s going on–which is close enough.

I remember when I started working the graveyard shift (I guess 3rd shift is the term we’re supposed to use now), I had a lot of days where I couldn’t be sure that I wouldn’t fall asleep w/o warning–in a theater, during a slow after-dinner conversation, on the road(!)–and I recognized the embarrassment, anger and confusion Genevich displayed. No matter what precautions he took, the very real danger of waking in a different place or his body not acting like he intended always loomed large. I’m assuming Tremblay has no first-hand knowledge of the disorder, but he sure acts like he does.

Genevich’s path to solving this particular case follows many of the typical hardboiled paths, but he cannot travel those paths like his forefathers because of his disorder. Unlike with Monk, Genvich’s problem is never fodder for humor–unlike Monk’s OCD, which would’ve been very easy, and probably very entertaining. Tremblay sticks to the high road, however, resulting in a deeper, probably more satisfyingk, read.

Dusted Off: Belgium, Belgium, Belgium! (sorry for the profanity)

Not sure why I’ve let this layer of dust accumulate over things lately, meant to post a thing or two last week, but things got away from me I guess.

Nothing personal, I assure you–well, most of you anyway.

So what got me riled up enough to break my silence?

This monstrosity:

That’s right, author Eoin Colfer has been commissioned to write the sixth volume of Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide trilogy.

SciFi Wire reports:

And Another Thing…, which will be released Oct. 12 to coincide with the 30th anniversary of the publication of the first book in the series by the late Douglas Adams, is a sequel commissioned by the publisher from Eoin Colfer. Colfer is the author of the best-selling Artemis Fowl series.

While Penguin will publish the latest book, Pan Macmillan, which was Adams’ paperback publisher, will repackage his backlist, adding new introductions to the books, which will be released monthly leading up to the release of the new title.

Why, oh why, is this being done? Was the world begging for a follow-up to Mostly Harmless? Did another story just need to be told? NO!

Did Adams’ leave notes, instructions for another? No.

Does Arthur Dent really need to get kicked around some more? No.

Wouldn’t it be easier to insult the Douglas Adams’ memory by digging up his bones and throwing rocks at them? Or you could just put out the recent movie on Blu-Ray, that’d do it, too.

This is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. A travesty. A disgrace. A literary crime.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’ll be there on 10/21, cash in hand, just waiting for the book–probably with baited breath. Just hope it’ll be slightly better than a collection of poetry by Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex, England.

Dusted Off: The Stepsister Scheme by Jim C. Hines

There are really only so many reactions a father can have when, thanks to his young daughter, his home and life are invaded by the Disney Princesses. Through DVDs, toys, costumes, books, clothing these characters can thoroughly infiltrate a family’s collective consciousness. A dad can run to such things as home improvement projects, sports, denial, or attempts to turn their daughter into a Tom-boy; but once these girls take the beachhead of your home, they don’t give an inch of it back for years.

Jim C. Hines took a different tack–the author of the satirical Jig the Goblin fantasy series started writing. The result “is a cross between the old (pre-Disney) fairy tales and Charlie’s Angels.”

The book opens with one of Cinderella’s (Danielle) stepsisters trying to assassinate the new princess a few months after the whole glass slipper incident. Danielle, some of her animal friends and another princess in disguise put a stop to that, but discover that Danielle’s husband has been kidnapped. Thankfully, the Queen is the head of a covert operations team (or the fairy tale equivalent thereof) made up of princesses who rarely qualify as damsels in distress.

The book works pretty well as a light, fun fantasy adventure. When you throw in Hines’ reworking of the original fairy tales–well, that’s icing on the cake (thick, rich and creamy icing). Happily ever after isn’t everything we tend to think it is.

“Are all the tales like this?” Danielle asked. “Did Jack Giantslayer fall into despair and poverty? Was Red Riding Hood murdered by wolves seeking revenge for the death of their kin?”

Talia snorted. “No, Red survived. But that kind of thing changes a woman.”

“Changes her how?”

“The Lady of the Red Hood is one of the most feared assassins this side of Akenkar.”

Looking forward to the next two installments of this series.

Dusted Off: Exactly what I’d Write if I was Erudite

Terry Teachout’s blogpost today, “Forty years with Nero Wolfe” is one of those posts I really wish I could’ve written.

Give it a read, hopefully Teachout can convince you to pick up Wolfe. Outside The Bible, a handful of Reformed and Puritan writers, Stout’s the only author I’d recommend to every person I know w/o a disclaimer or a second thought.

Dusted Off: Backup by Jim Butcher

Well, that was a fun, 45 minutes (give or take).

Just knocked off Jim Butcher’s Backup: A Story of the Dresden Files. Weighing in at about 12K words, it’s almost as meaty as the 4-issue mini-series comic book Welcome to the Jungle (recently collected and published in hardcover form).

This is a different way of telling a Harry Dresden story, coming at it from the POV of his brother, Thomas. Not only does this give us a new way of seeing Harry, it gives us a better appreciation for Thomas. (In many ways, it reminded me of Crais’ The Watchman from last year.)

Quick read; decent story–resolution came a bit too soon, but given the length, such was unavoidable; probably paid too much for it, given my budget; hope some of the backstory spills over into the regular Dresden File novels. Something any fan should pick up.

Dusted Off: Happy Birthday, Archie!

On Oct 23 in Chillicothe, Ohio, Archie Goodwin entered this world–no doubt with a smile for the pretty nurses–and American detective literature was never the same.

I’m toasting him in one of the ways I think he’d appreciate most–by raising a glass of milk in his honor.

Who was Archie? Archie summed up his life thusly:

Born in Ohio. Public high school, pretty good at geometry and football, graduated with honor but no honors. Went to college two weeks, decided it was childish, came to New York and got a job guarding a pier, shot and killed two men and was fired, was recommended to Nero Wolfe for a chore he wanted done, did it, was offered a full-time job by Mr. Wolfe, took it, still have it.” (Fourth of July Picinic)

Long may he keep it. Just what was he employed by Wolfe to do? In The Black Mountain he answers the statement, “I thought you was a private eye” with:

I don’t like the way you say it, but I am. Also I am an accountant, an amanuensis, and a cocklebur. Eight to five you never heard the word amanuensis and you never saw a cocklebur.

In The Red Box, he says

I know pretty well what my field is. Aside from my primary function as the thorn in the seat of Wolfe’s chair to keep him from going to sleep and waking up only for meals, I’m chiefly cut out for two things: to jump and grab something before the other guy can get his paws on it, and to collect pieces of the puzzle for Wolfe to work on.

In case you’re wondering if this post was simply an excuse to go through some collections of Archie Goodwin quotations, you wouldn’t be totally wrong…he’s one of the fictional characters I like spending time with most in this world–he’s the literary equivalent of comfort food. So just one more great line I’ve quoted here before:

I would appreciate it if they would call a halt on all their devoted efforts to find a way to abolish war or eliminate disease or run trains with atoms or extend the span of human life to a couple of centuries, and everybody concentrate for a while on how to wake me up in the morning without my resenting it. It may be that a bevy of beautiful maidens in pure silk yellow very sheer gowns, barefooted, singing “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” and scattering rose petals over me would do the trick, but I’d have to try it.

Dusted Off: Superpowers: A Novel by David J. Schwartz

If one’s going to write about superheroes there’s really only so much you can do–A. Write a prose equivalent of a comic book or B. Go out of your way to make sure that no once can describe your work as an example of “A.” Typically, the “A” books are shoddy, and wouldn’t be accepted as a script by a decent comic publisher; and the “B” books are so caught up in not being “A”s that they lose something–they might do well exploring the nature of “heroes” or satirizing/politicizing the genre or whatever, but they don’t work as novels.

I’ve had my fill of the “B”s lately, and think I’ve finished only one out of the handful I’ve started in the last couple of years–Tom De Haven’s It’s Superman, which really did work as a novel. Schwartz’ Superpowers: A Novel, stands as an example of how to do an “A” right.

Superpowers is the origin story of a super-hero team from Madison, Wisconsin, of all places. A group of college students one day find themselves with superpowers (super-strenghth/invulnerability; super-speed; invisibility; telepathy; and power of flight), and it doesn’t take too long before they decide to don costumes and fight crime as the All-Stars, despite the very clear absence of any super villainy. A solid, “A” start–and if Schwartz kept at it at this level, I’d probably really have enjoyed the read.

He did a great job of focusing on each of the five heroes in turn, never focusing on one for too long, essential to any good team book (unlike the Justice League, which all to0 frequently turns into Superman and some other guys (or Batman and…;or Wonder Woman and…; or…). The early chapters are told with a solid amount of humor–think the early parts of the Spider-Man movie, where Peter’s learning about his powers. And like I said, if he’d kept it there, Schwartz would’ve produced a fun read.

But he didn’t, and he made it a better read.

There’s a cost to these powers for each character–personal, vocational, mental, physical, familial and/or academic. Each one had a full life before tacking on crime-fighting. And life keeps going on–new changes, challenges, and developments–it’s possible that a decent story could’ve been told about these five and their associates without the powers. So they’re having to grow as people, as well as nascent heroes.

Then a few short months after receiving their powers, well–don’t want to give it away, but something happens hundreds of miles away from them that their powers can’t help. The public as a whole isn’t sure what to make of anyone being a super-hero (particularly the police). This is worsened when they make a couple of mistakes that wreak havoc on civilians.

The book is really about how people react to these powers, the costs, and the events surrounding them. The plot doesn’t depend on a super villain or three for conflict–conflict and drama come from living–lLaughter, love, anger, pain, ambition, parent-child relationships (of varying degrees of health/disfunction), hatred, fear, revenge…

These are not paragons of virtue, Schwartz depicts them as people. That’s what makes the book worth the time. While I was reading it, I kept saying to myself “If Robert Kirkman or Brian Michael Bendis wrote a novel, it would read like this.” Come to think of it, for my comic reading friends, that’s probably all I had to say in this post (a much more economical way to say everything I just did). If you’re not one of my comic-reading friends, and you want to be–read this book, and if you like it, go pick up the trade paperbacks of Ultimate Spider-Man and Invincible.

You can thank me later.

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