tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42720122542565623782024-02-07T20:02:04.815-05:00Adventures of an English MajorThe ruminations, thoughts, conjectures, reviews, analysis, and verbal legerdemain of a depraved Liberal Arts major.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.comBlogger108125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-5385475396226058552020-08-28T13:32:00.001-04:002020-12-03T10:58:52.639-05:00[Book Review] How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy, by Jenny Odell<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy, Odell, Jenny - Amazon.com" 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" /></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hardcover, 240 pages</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Published April 9th 2019 by Melville House</span></h4>
This book started out strong, then sagged in the middle, but it was alright in the end.<br />
<br />
As someone who has recently gotten off Facebook (hopefully forever), I identified strongly with the author's thesis that there are many pressures in our hyperconnected modern lives which conspire to rob us of the ability to think before we act (or speak, or post). Social media hijacks our brains by showering us with dopamine when we churn out timely, pithy one-liners that get tons of 'likes' at the cost of ignoring nuance, paradox, and respect for those with whom we are debating. As each individual is rewarded for chipping away at the ties which bind our society together, it should surprise no one that our society feels more divided than ever.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, I think the average American reader will have a lot of difficulty identifying with the middle portion of <i>How to Do Nothing</i>, especially as Odell trots out the works of various poets, painters, photographers, and performance artists to make her point. I expect that one long passage where she analyzes the philosophy of the Greek philosopher <a href="https://www.ancient.eu/Diogenes_of_Sinope/">Diogenes</a> through the lens of performance art will be an exit-point for many readers. The overall effect is one of pretentiousness and self-indulgence; readers from non-coastal or blue collar backgrounds will have a hard time caring about the civil disobedience (read: shiftless, lazy entitlement) of Herman Melville's "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11231">Bartleby, the Scrivener</a>". I could almost *hear* the audience laughing at the author's oblivious, tone-deaf attempts to explain to readers why they should attend live performances of John Cage's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mr9YnBaZBgc">4'33"</a>, or watch bizarre and plotless foreign art-films like 2011's <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Exchange_(2011_film)">The Exchange</a></i>.<br />
<br />
But towards the end, the book regained some of its earlier lost momentum. Once Odell gets off her high horse and starts talking about practical stuff that the average American can relate to (meeting your neighbors, understanding your bioregion and your place within it, replacing the endlessly-scrolling newsfeed with a focus on personal relationships and context), the book became a lot more interesting. I honestly think it contains a lot of good ideas, and it could deliver a lot of benefit to anyone who is uncomfortable with their own relationship to technology and social media.<br />
<br />
<i>How to Do Nothing</i> is not so much a how-to guide as a philosophical treatise; which I suppose is important after all, and increasingly rare in this constantly-accelerating and increasingly-optimized world of ours. Sometimes it's important to be bored, to sit with that feeling, and to ask yourself why you're in so much of a damn hurry anyway.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-70156914213848079892020-07-26T21:44:00.000-04:002020-07-26T21:44:28.286-04:00[Book Review] Grimm's Fairy Tales<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="35047520" src="https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1493864625l/35047520.jpg" /></div>
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><b><i>Grimm's Fairy Tales Illustrated Collection: Edited by Frances Jenkins Olcott with Illustrations by Rie Cramer, </i></b></span></span><b style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;">by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm </b></div>
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;"><b>1922, The Hampton Publishing Company, New York</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;">It's interesting to come back to these old familiar tales, half-remembered from childhood, and approach them with the life-experiences and critical reading skills of an adult. Stories which once seemed nonsensical, even frustrating, now yield positive messages of loyalty, perseverance, charity, and hope... when approached with an open mind and a willingness to think deeply.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;">Like a puzzling koan, these folktales are an open invitation for the reader to ask oneself </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;">"What can I learn from this? What life-lesson is the storyteller trying to pass on?"</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;"> Instead of getting bogged down in the sexism, materialism, and gruesome violence (of which there is no shortage), I found that I was able to see a deeper meaning, a message which whispers </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;">fear not, it will all work out in the end somehow</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;">.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;">Tolkien writes of the "eucatastrophe", the opposite of a catastrophe, the happy ending where everything turns out alright: despite their evil magic and malicious lies, somehow the schemes of the wicked come to naught and the True Bride unveils herself to her true love the Prince; despite being cruelly killed by his elder brothers, our hero is brought back to life by his friends and rides to the rescue on a white steed; the tale which began with poverty and abuse ends in wealth and love and happiness. Sometimes, yes, happy endings can seem contrived, even saccharine or schmaltzy. But there are times when we really, desperately need to hear someone tell us that happy endings are possible, even in the </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;">grimmest</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;"> of circumstances. And the Brothers Grimm deliver these eucatastrophes in abundance.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;">However, there are a few tales in the mix that simply don't stand the test of time. "King Thrushbeard" gaslights his new bride in order to "break her" of her haughtiness and rude behavior towards her many suitors. "Clever Hans" is annoyingly repetitive, incongruously violent, and somehow Hans is rewarded in the end with marriage to his sweetheart despite showering her in the freshly gouged-out eyes of livestock (yes, really). "Little Brother and Little Sister", in addition to having a very uncreative title, seems like one long shaggy dog story that, despite featuring animal transformations, a murder, and a resurrection, meanders without direction and only produces a happy ending as the result of (if you'll pardon the technical term) a complete ass-pull. Even several of the really excellent stories — "The Nixie of the Mill-Pond", "The Six Swans", "Mother Holle", "The Two Travelers" — could benefit from a good editor.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;">Overall, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;">Grimm's Fairy Tales</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px;"> might be better-suited to an adult audience than a young one; young children may find the archaic language difficult to follow, and adults will be hard-pressed to answer their inevitable questions about why certain characters choose to be so mindlessly cruel, so naively trusting, or to do the thing that they've been explicitly warned not to do on two previous occasions. Still, if approached with an open mind and a childlike sense of wonder, these classic tales do have deep, mythic lessons to teach us... lessons that can still resonate in the hearts modern readers of all ages.</span>Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-84343864936315523492020-04-26T21:34:00.001-04:002020-04-26T21:34:09.005-04:00Moby-Dick; or, The Whale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been meaning to read this book for years. Three of my favorite authors (Nicholas Meyer of the even-numbered Star Trek movies, Mike Carey of <i>The Unwritten</i>, and science fiction juggernaut Ray Bradbury) have repeatedly expressed deep admiration for Herman Melville's 1851 novel, making extensive allusions to it in their own works. Heck, Bradbury loved it so much that he <i>wrote the screenplay</i> for the 1956 movie starring Gregory Peck as Captain Ahab! To endure as a "classic" for a hundred and fifty years and amass a fan-club that includes writers like those three, Melville must've done <i>something</i> right, right?</div>
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Boy, did he ever.<br />
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<i>Moby-Dick</i> is (if you'll pardon the obvious pun) a whale of a tale. And I mean that literally: it's a<i> </i>huge book, almost a thousand pages long. And it's not only whale-like in size, but in depth as well, sounding the human soul and the human condition in ways that most other novels can only weakly imitate, covering themes as diverse as friendship, work, man's relationship with the natural world, madness, revenge, fate and destiny, human frailty, mortality, and about a hundred other themes besides.<br />
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I'll warn you before I go much farther, though: this book isn't for everyone. Obviously, if you have a problem with graphic depictions of animal harm, then this isn't the book for you; there are passages where the main characters are literally drenched in the blood of their prey, and Melville gets explicit when describing how they take the whales apart, winnowing these leviathans down into oil and meat and ivory. Likewise if you need female characters to catch your interest: there are only two minor female characters in the whole novel, and none appear after the <i>Pequod</i> sets sail. This is realistic for the setting, since women, as a rule, did not travel on whaling ships, but it's worth mentioning that the entire cast is basically one big sausage-fest.<br />
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That said, I think that this book will give you a lot of food for thought, if you give it a chance. I was struck early-on by how funny the narrator, Ishmael, can be when he turns his keen wit on his fellow men; he wryly remarks, upon being forced to share a bed with a Polynesian cannibal (who later becomes his best friend): "Better a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian." As a former schoolmaster, Ishmael is well versed in classical literature, European and American history, geography, the natural sciences, and even scriptural analysis. His web of allusions and references is so dense that any worthwhile edition will include endnotes for clarity's sake.<br />
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Moby-Dick is also surprisingly exciting, which I <i>really</i> didn't expect in a book that was written before the Civil War. There were several times where I needed to stop reading and consciously relax the muscles in my legs and arms, because I had tensed up with fear and anticipation. There were harrowing, horrifying scenes where I gasped aloud as men were killed, or maimed, or drowned, or dragged off into the deep blue sea. Melville does a great job of conveying how incredibly, <i>insanely</i> dangerous the whaling profession was. In an age without radios or flare-guns or life vests, these men piled into rowboats, six at a time, to chase down, harass, stab, and enrage animals who could weigh more than<i> sixty tons</i>! And if that's not enough, after fastening themselves to the whale with a giant meat-hook and being dragged behind it for miles, praying that their boat didn't swamp and the leviathan didn't decide to go for a deep dive. And all this they did with the whale-line, the rope which attached whale and harpoon to boat and crew, <i>twisted around their necks and oars</i>! Ishmael observes that "when the line is darting out, to be seated then in the boat, is like being seated in the midst of the manifold whizzings of a steam-engine in full play, when every flying beam, and shaft, and wheel, is grazing you."<br />
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Speaking of whaling equipment, the edition I read has some really gorgeous Early American Modernist <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=rockwell+kent+moby+dick&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwj6pOyHl4fpAhUED60KHVX6CxQQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=rockwell+kent+moby+dick&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQAzoCCAA6BAgAEEM6BAgAEB46BggAEAgQHjoECAAQGFDRyMABWIfiwAFgy-TAAWgCcAB4AIABaIgByweSAQQxMS4xmAEAoAEBqgELZ3dzLXdpei1pbWc&sclient=img&ei=exCmXrr7CISetAXV9K-gAQ&bih=617&biw=1366&rlz=1CAHKDC_enUS859">illustrations</a> by Rockwell Kent, which helped to clarify and explain a lot of the obscure terminology and nautical tools to which Melville alludes. For someone like me who has never been to sea, I found Kent's illustrations really helped convey the sheer sense of size, the breathtaking power of whales and the sea in which they live. If you get a chance, I recommend an illustrated edition if you can find one.<br />
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Strange to say, I can't honestly believe that Melville/Ishmael is entirely at peace with his profession, with the business of hunting and killing whales. Not after reading <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2701/2701-h/2701-h.htm#link2HCH0087">Chapter 87: The Grand Armada</a>. I don't know how you could write such a tender, touching encounter between whalemen and their prey and not be affected by it somehow. I think this passage helps to underscore the key differences between Ishmael and his captain, Ahab:<br />
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<i>''And thus, though surrounded by circle upon circle of consternations and affrights, did these inscrutable creatures at the centre [of the herd] freely and fearlessly indulge in all peaceful concernments; yea, serenely revelled in dalliance and delight. But even so, amid the tornadoed Atlantic of my being, do I myself still for ever centrally disport in mute calm; and while ponderous planets of unwaning woe revolve round me, deep down and deep inland there I still bathe me in eternal mildness of joy.''</i></blockquote>
I take this to mean that Ishmael gives himself a little space, in the very heart of his being, where he doesn't let the world get to him, and can appreciate the beautiful things in life, in the sea, in his quotidian workaday life, and even in the whales he hunts. Ahab, on the other hand, can only see whales as embodiments of evil, living incarnations of "some unknown but still reasoning thing [that] puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask." Both men project their own inner natures onto their prey: one sees gentle creatures with complex lives and life cycles, the other sees only mindless brutes that exist only to torment and destroy mortal men.<br />
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<br />
...which leads me neatly to Captain Ahab himself. I saved him for the end because, asides from Moby Dick himself, Ahab is probably the most enigmatic character in the book. His name is practically synonymous with madness and doomed quests, but his arguments are weirdly compelling anyway. He's able to command the loyalty of his crew through a combination of personal magnetism, revenge fantasy, pseudo-religious symbolism, and appealing to the base human desire for violence and victory. Scholars have spilled oceans of ink on the subject of Ahab alone, so there's no chance that I'll really do him justice in these few-hundred words. Personally, I wonder if his mad quest for the White Whale really is the revenge-fantasy that most readers make it out to be. I wonder if, deep in his heart of hearts, Ahab knows this is a battle he can't hope to win. I wonder if his doomed quest for the beast that maimed him is really a form of suicide-by-whale.<br />
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Over the last century and a half, critics have claimed that the White Whale himself represents many things: God-with-a-capital-G, or Evil-with-a-capital-E, or the unstoppable and uncompromising power of Nature, or death/mortality, or the unfairness of life, or the ocean itself; the list goes on and on. Each critic seems to see something different in the White Whale's wrinkled brow and snow-white skin. Melville/Ishmael declines to define the White Whale too closely, preferring to let us use our own imaginations to discover what we see in him. Like an enormous movie-screen, we can project anything we want onto Moby-Dick's snowy flesh, but all of our assertions and projections only bounce off his chalky skin, leaving his insides, his true nature, untouched and unknowable.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-2555793943931900442019-05-23T18:44:00.003-04:002019-05-23T19:25:23.623-04:00[Book Review] Wings of a Flying Tiger, by Iris Yang<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Wings of a Flying Tiger by Iris Yang" src="http://www.open-bks.com/library/moderns/wings-of-a-flying-tiger/Wings_of_a_Flying_Tiger_cover_op_for_web.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></div>
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<b>Title</b>: <a href="http://www.open-bks.com/library/moderns/wings-of-a-flying-tiger/about-book.html">Wings of a Flying Tiger</a><br />
<b>Author</b>: <a href="http://www.open-bks.com/library/moderns/will-of-a-tiger/about-author.html">Iris Yang (Qing Yang)</a><br />
<b>Publisher</b>: Open Books<br />
<b>Publication Date</b>: 06 September 2018<br />
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Even though it's fiction, this book is brutal. Many first-time authors tend to mollycoddle their characters; although it's clear she loves her characters dearly, Iris Yang is <i>not </i>one of those authors. It's rare to find a writer who intersperses moments of loving tenderness and peaceful village life with horrific scenes of bloody warfare, mass execution, and rape, <i>and </i>does it in a way that makes narrative sense and feels believable. But somehow, Iris Yang makes the whole story come together in a tapestry of war, heroism, violence, love, life, and death.<br />
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Very early on, it becomes clear that this story will be less about narrow escapes and more about how humans carry on even after the worst has happened. Plans go wrong, hopes are dashed, and minor characters die by the truckload. But through it all, there is a spirit of perseverance, a sense of the importance of holding onto life and hope despite overwhelming odds, if only to make oneself that much harder for the enemy to kill. This nameless characteristic seems uniquely Chinese to me; it's probably what allowed them to survive the war and the Japanese occupation, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cultural_Revolution#Death_toll">and all that came after it</a>.<br />
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The very first character we meet is Danny Hardy, a fighter pilot of the First American Volunteer Group (AVG) of the Chinese Air Force (nicknamed "the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flying_Tigers">Flying Tigers</a>"), but we don't really get to know him until Act 2. The story mainly follows Jasmine Bai, the educated daughter of two professors at Nanking University, on the eve of the infamous <a href="http://www.historyplace.com/worldhistory/genocide/nanking.htm">Rape of Nanking</a> by Japanese soldiers. From the moment Jasmine gets off the train, it's clear that China's wartime capitol is in desperate shape: her car is immediately swamped with refugees going the other way, and Jasmine has to crawl through a window to get out. From that moment on, everything that can go wrong, does. Japanese soldiers sack the city, using Chinese POWs for bayonet practice and brutally raping every young Chinese woman or girl they can lay their hands on. The city is a bloodbath, and only through a combination of luck and brave protectors does Jasmine make it out alive. She and her teenage cousin Daisy Bai are sent to a tiny mountain village in southwestern <a href="https://www.lonelyplanet.com/china/yunnan/map">Yunnan Province</a> for their own protection, and it is there that the two young women save the life of the aforementioned pilot Danny Hardy. Their decision to heal his wounds and hide him from Japanese soldiers will have terrible consequences for the young women, and for the villagers who harbor them.<br />
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If you're looking for an interesting perspective on an aspect of World War II and Chinese-American relations that is rarely discussed in this era of rising tensions between the two superpowers, then <i>Wings of a Flying Tiger</i> will take you on a wrenching-but-powerful emotional journey. I can't wait to read the sequel!Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0Yunnan Province, China24.4752847 101.3431057999999917.1338232 91.0159573 31.8167462 111.67025429999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-65034258187800128952019-04-12T17:09:00.000-04:002019-04-12T17:20:02.309-04:00A Dot Labelled "Peter Pettigrew"<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i>(<b>SPOILER WARNING</b>: Obviously, this post contains spoilers for </i>Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban<i>, and basically all other books/films in the </i>Harry Potter<i> franchise.)</i><br />
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Okay wizards and witches, it's fan-theory time. Today we're addressing that age-old continuity conundrum, "Why didn't Fred and George Weasley notice in their Marauder's Map that there was a little dot labelled 'Peter Pettigrew' following their little brother around and sleeping in his bed?" Fear not, Gentle Readers: I propose a solution which may explain not only this, but other apparent continuity errors as well.<br />
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The reason Fred and George never noticed that the little dot labelled "Peter Pettigrew" in Ron's bed is because <i>Peter Pettigrew was not his name at that time</i>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.pottermore.com/bxd3o8b291gf/2hbpUWNW32SWe0Ka4K0Gaa/79cca195278317d2fe53d7dc30029493/PeterPettigrew_WB_F3_PettigrewSmilingPartwayThroughTransformation_Still_080615_Land.jpg?w=1200" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Image result for peter pettigrew" border="0" height="170" src="https://images.pottermore.com/bxd3o8b291gf/2hbpUWNW32SWe0Ka4K0Gaa/79cca195278317d2fe53d7dc30029493/PeterPettigrew_WB_F3_PettigrewSmilingPartwayThroughTransformation_Still_080615_Land.jpg?w=1200" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>How </i>did<i> that sleazy little creep get Sorted into </i>Gryffindor<i>, though?</i></td></tr>
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After living as a rat for twelve years, Pettigrew <i>was </i>Scabbers for all intents and purposes. No one had called him anything but Scabbers in more than a decade, and as far as we know he had never, in all that time, broken character . It makes sense that he would have come to inhabit the role completely, thinking of himself as Scabbers (<i>if </i>he thought of himself at all, and didn't simply go on autopilot and let his rat instincts take over). But when news of Sirius' escape from Azkaban reached him, something shifted in his little rodent mind, and he began to remember the reason he had been living as a rat for all those years. The guilt came rushing back, and so perforce did the memories of what he had done, why he had hidden for so long.<br />
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According to the <a href="https://www.pottermore.com/fact-file-objects/marauders-map-fact-file">Marauder's Map Fact File on Pottermore</a>, the Marauder's Map "[s]hows the location of any person or ghost on Hogwarts' grounds, [and] isn’t fooled by an Animagus or an Invisibility Cloak." It says nothing about animals or non-sentient beings, and given that Harry never specifically mentions seeing anything other then humans and ghosts in the map, it's reasonable to assume that the map <i>only </i>shows sentient beings. This makes sense from a user experience standpoint. Think about it: if the map showed every organism in Hogwarts, the interface would be overloaded with useless information about the position of every mouse, spider, and fruit-fly in the castle, making it much more difficult for the user to filter out the important information.<br />
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If the above is true (and I'll admit, that's a big "if"), then that also explains why Fred and George never noticed a long thin shape labelled "Slytherin's Monster" slithering through the walls during <i>Chamber of Secrets</i>. Being a non-sentient creature without a unique name that it was aware of, the basilisk thus did not show up on the Marauder's Map.<br />
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This theory also supported by the movie-only scene in Alfonso Cuaron's <i>Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban</i>, in which Harry sees a dot labelled "Peter Pettigrew" in the Marauder's Map which is moving towards him down a dark and (apparently empty) hallway. Harry never actually sees Pettigrew on the map in the book, but if we take this scene as canon, it suggests that by this point Pettigrew had started to remember who he was, and the map re-labelled him accordingly.<br />
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Now don't worry, I can hear your objections already. "But why didn't the map say 'Helena Ravenclaw' instead of 'The Grey Lady'? Why didn't it show Voldemort standing next to Quirrel?" Both excellent questions, Astute Reader. I shall endeavor to answer them as best I can. First, Helena Ravenclaw did not show up on the map for precisely the reasons mentioned in my theory: she had been known as the "Grey Lady" for so long (nearly <i>a thousand years</i>) that she had internalized the name and considered it her own.<br />
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As for Voldemort, I can't say for sure. If the map shows ghosts, then one could reasonably assume that the Dark Lord would show up as well, right? Not necessarily. When Voldemort returns to life near the end of <i>Goblet of Fire</i>, he says to his Death Eaters that when the spell he intended to kill Harry with rebounded, "<i>I was ripped from my body, less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost … but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know … "</i><br />
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Whatever was left of Voldemort may have been too little for the map to recognize as sentient, or it may have been masked by Quirrel's life-force. Finally, (and this may be a bit of a stretch), Voldemort is often known as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named", so maybe his name itself was under some sort of concealing enchantment which makes it not show up on all but the most powerful detection systems, sort of like the nominal equivalent of being <a href="https://www.hp-lexicon.org/magic/unplottable/">Unplottable</a>? We know that he has the power to make his name <a href="https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Taboo">Taboo</a>, so making it Unplottable as well doesn't seem like too much of a stretch.<br />
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Though the above theory is obviously not canon, I hope that it can help to clear up any issues you may have had with the illustrious Ms. Rowling's storytelling.<br />
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Until next time... mischief managed.<br />
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<br />Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0Scotland, UK56.490671199999987 -4.202645800000027547.764661199999985 -24.856942800000027 65.216681199999982 16.451651199999972tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-73097974538444619722019-03-26T18:52:00.000-04:002019-03-26T18:52:05.566-04:00[Book Review] The Year of Less, by Cait Flanders<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfXbpnZXRscv31K3t93u5xvkBQ_sVwGjuGtveywqgatAoEThkAOjHFNOGTDaWuxTxhfbfVaxol-aGOlRYetftRowdETtmnyKS2sJZmaTSwd44VzVpcMndIBJmlCcVlAYOW_K9BLdD0AlC7/s1600/51aqyiLnAbL._SX258_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="260" data-original-width="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfXbpnZXRscv31K3t93u5xvkBQ_sVwGjuGtveywqgatAoEThkAOjHFNOGTDaWuxTxhfbfVaxol-aGOlRYetftRowdETtmnyKS2sJZmaTSwd44VzVpcMndIBJmlCcVlAYOW_K9BLdD0AlC7/s1600/51aqyiLnAbL._SX258_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i><b>The Year of Less: How I Stopped Shopping, Gave Away My Belongings, and Discovered Life is Worth More Than Anything You Can Buy in a Store</b></i><br />
<b>Author</b>: Cait Flanders<br />
<b>Recording Artist</b>: Cait Flanders<br />
<b>Publisher</b>: Tantor Media<br />
<b>Year</b>: 2017<br />
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I think it's fair to say that, for most people living in the so-called First World, the idea of going an entire year without purchasing anything but food and essentials is a pretty terrifying prospect. You're probably already tensed up just thinking about it. Not buying <i>anything</i>? No lattes to-go, no new video games or DVDs, no new outfits or tickets to movies or <i>anything at all</i>?! How would we <i>live</i>? What would we <i>do</i>? How could we survive the howling maelstrom of sensation that is the Internet Age without the ability to spend our hard-earned cash on the things that matter most to us, the things which give our lives so much fulfillment?<br />
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Well, that's just the issue, isn't it? What <i>does</i> matter most to us? <i>Do</i> our possessions bring us fulfillment? Do we even <i>remember</i> all the junk we've spent that hard-earned cash on? Lots of people run themselves ragged working jobs they hate so they can pay their bills every month, but are we paying for things that make us truly happy and secure? Or are we just flinging dollars away to keep the twin specters of Boredom and Silence at bay, like a cornered man hurling sausage-links at an approaching pack of wild dogs?<br />
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By her early twenties, <a href="https://caitflanders.com/the-year-of-less/">Cait Flanders</a> was (like many Americans and Canadians), up to her eyeballs in debt. More than $30,000 of debt, and almost all of it racked up to pay for things, possessions, physical objects which brought her no joy but she couldn't bear to get part with because she had spent so much on them already, and besides, someday she <i>might</i> use them! Add to this her binge-eating and compulsive blackout drinking (which started at age 12), and you've got one very unlikely candidate for future financial- and lifestyle-guru. But become a guru she did! This book chronicles how that came about.<br />
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Cait started blogging about her efforts to pay off her consumer debt as a way to keep herself accountable. Publicly sharing her budget and what she spent her money on forced her to stick to her principles and continually reach for her goals, or else face the unpleasant task of explaining to her readers why she had fallen short that month. Slowly, over the course of two years, she paid off her debt and built up a sizable online following. But she discovered that as soon as the debt was gone, the old habits came roaring back. She began to ask herself:<br />
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<i>"If I was only saving up to 10 percent of my income, where was the rest of my money going? Why was I continually making excuses for my spending? Did I really need 90 percent of my income or could I live on less?"</i></blockquote>
Cait decided to find out, in the only way she knew how: by leaping in with both feet. She decided to challenge herself to give up shopping for an entire year, only allowing herself to buy the essentials: food, toiletries, gasoline, electricity, and other essential consumables. Among other things, she had a rule that she could only replace things that wore out or broke if both of the following applied: A) the item was absolutely essential and caused her a daily inconvenience to go without it, <i>and</i> B) she threw out, donated, or otherwise got rid of the original item she was replacing. Armed with a sense of purpose and spurred on by the fear of public shaming (she had told everyone she knew about her plan, so she wouldn't chicken out), Cait launched into a yearlong <a href="https://caitflanders.com/shopping-ban/">Shopping Ban</a>.<br />
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Not only did Cait swear to go a year without shopping, she also decided to take stock of every item she owned and publish the inventory on her blog. Years before <a href="https://konmari.com/">Marie Kondo</a> was a phenomenon, Cait decided she'd had enough and ultimately gave away more than <i>half</i> of her possessions, on top of her Shopping Ban!<br />
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As the year wore on, Cait began to notice disturbing similarities in the way she related to her three vices: food, alcohol, and shopping. Although I've never had a serious problem with alcohol, shopping, or overeating, I still found that much of what she was saying resonated with me. For much of our twenties, my wife and I spent everything we earned on fancy dinners out, having adventures with friends, sweet treats and cups of overpriced coffee, and purchasing whatever passing fancy caught our attention for more than a moment. We were having fun, sure, but spending all that money was really just keeping us from achieving our goals, like owning a house or traveling.<br />
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Although we had already paid off the all of our remaining debt more than a year before encountering Ms. Flanders' book, <i>The Year of Less</i> has helped to reinforce and galvanize us in our decision to live frugally, to save as much as possible, and to not waste our money on anything that isn't getting us closer to checking items off our bucket-list. It's a difficult decision to make in a world where anything you want can be yours in seconds (and with free shipping if you spend just a few dollars more), but as Cait Flanders proves, it <i>can</i> be done.<br />
<br />And who knows? Maybe, like her, you'll find that you're happier with less than you ever were with more.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-16915766759212418362018-07-25T11:50:00.001-04:002018-07-25T11:50:07.397-04:00[Book Review] Lord of the Vampires<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>Lord of the Vampires</i>, by Jeanne Kalogridis</b></div>
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<b>(<i>The Diaries of the Family Dracul</i>, Book Three)</b></div>
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<b>© 1996 Dell Publishing</b></div>
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Jeanne Kalogridis' capstone to her <i>Diaries</i> trilogy takes place concurrently with the events of Bram Stoker's <i>Dracula</i>. In fact, <i>Lord of the Vampires</i> offers an entirely new take on many of the events of that famed seminal novel of vampire fiction, providing more than just new insights on Stoker's existing canon, but entirely new, previously-unseen aspects, characters, and plot-points.<br />
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Well, perhaps "entirely new" is a bit of an overstatement. Kalogridis never adds <i>completely </i>new characters out of whole cloth; she has too much respect for Stoker to do that. Instead, she dramatically expands on what were previously unnamed background characters -- such as Dracula's three "brides" or Van Helsing's mysterious friend Arminius -- fleshing them out into fully-rounded characters with their own psychologies, motivations, and story arcs. As a result, we see <i>Dracula</i>, which was already a novel of many viewpoints, from the points of view of new characters, or from the same characters but with new information: for instance, we learn that Dr, Seward's wax cylinder dictations, which comprise his contributions to the original novel, only told part of what he knew. Here, Kalogridis makes us privy to his private, hand-written journals, which reveal that he (and his mentor, Prof. Van Helsing), know considerably more about vampirism in general and Vlad Dracul in particular, than the original novel suggested.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Related image" height="228" src="https://travsd.files.wordpress.com/2016/10/700full-abraham-van-helsing-edward-van-sloan.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Professor Abraham Van Helsing, MD, D.Ph., D.Litt., etc, etc.</i></td></tr>
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Speaking of whom, Van Helsing is present for many more of the events of <i>Dracula</i> than we had previously been led to believe. As a result of the hypnotic and mystical powers which he acquired under the tutelage of the mysterious sage Arminius in the previous novel, Van Helsing is able to render himself invisible to (most) mortal eyes, allowing him to play an unseen part in many scenes for which he was not present in Stoker's novel, such as the scene where Dracula kills Lucy and her mother. Usually these kinds of changes only result in minor, cosmetic differences to the scenes, but sometimes his presence (or the presence of other, similarly-invisible beings) casts old scenes in a completely different light. Which is important, because the author is working within a tight framework of restrictions.<br />
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By writing a novel that takes place within the events and context of another novel -- and an extremely famous one at that -- Kalogridis has taken on the difficult task of trying to surprise her readers while telling them a story they've heard many times before, without changing too much of the story or introducing elements which break her audience's suspension of disbelief. If she adheres to Stoker's plot too slavishly, the audience will get bored; if she changes things too much, they'll get angry and defensive. Fortunately, Kalogridis manages to strike a delicate balance between old and new, crafting a tale which manages to bring us back to familiar ground while simultaneously making it seem new and exciting.<br />
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<i>Lord of the Vampires </i>introduces something new to the series: a sense of pathos, of real human suffering. Not just supernatural cruelty (though there <i>is </i>plenty of that), but a peek into the houses of the dying. Early on we learn that Van Helsing's mother, Mary Windham-Tepesh, is dying of cancer, and we see in intimate detail just how devoted her son is to caring for her through even the most piteously gruesome aspects of late-stage cancer. Much attention is lovingly paid to the mood in the Westenra household as Lucy lies dying: we see the heartache and the pain which it brings, but as Van Helsing observes: "<i>in the midst of gloom shines a ray of love and valour. . . . the experience [of caring for a mortally ill family member] melts away the more superficial aspects of the personality, revealing a golden core of strength and compassion.</i>"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for elizabeth bathory" height="320" src="https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/villains/images/6/6d/Blood_Countess_of_Hungary.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20180214112008" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="255" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Pictured: One bad mofo</i></td></tr>
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This, of course, is in stark contrast to the glamorous beauty and shocking depravity of the newest major character in the series, one <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_B%C3%A1thory">Elizabeth Báthory</a>, the infamous "Blood Countess" who (allegedly) tortured more than six hundred female servants over a period of decades and bathed in their blood to maintain her own beauty (consider yourselves trigger-warned for torture scenes and lesbian blood-orgies). Elizabeth shows up at Vlad's invitation to Castle Dracula, where she promptly restores both his and Zsuzsanna's youth and vigor (they having been trapped within Castle Dracula for the last twenty years, since the end of the previous book) and then gets screwed over by Vlad as he abandons them with only poor little Jonathan Harker as their last meal, who promptly escapes. Zsuzsanna and Elizabeth, seeking their revenge on Vlad, break out of Castle Dracula and pursue their erstwhile benefactor to England, where they work together in secret to destroy him (and their hated foe, the vampire-hunter Van Helsing).<br />
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In some ways, <i>Lord of the Vampires</i> is like those episodes of <i>Game of Thrones </i>that diverge from the books they're based on: what seemed predictable is suddenly no longer following the path which we expected, and this creates cognitive dissonance and dramatic tension. What was once familiar is suddenly, disconcertingly <i>un</i>familiar. Although it's sometimes a little maddening to see Van Helsing or Zsuzsanna being secretly present in familiar scenes yet unwilling to do anything to change their outcomes (for reasons which seem flimsy at best), <i>Lord of the Vampires</i> is overall an interesting second-take on a very well-known story, which forces us to pause and reconsider whether we actually know it all that well (or whether we know the whole truth of it). Many have commented about the logical inconsistencies of <i>Dracula</i> ( the vampire's inconsistent powers and weaknesses, his abysmal impulse-control, Van Helsing's shocking willingness to leave Mina undefended and ignorant of the truth), and this book does go a long way towards explaining some of these decisions, as well as providing more insight into the psychology and motivations of one of literature's greatest villains.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-59464640500037391352018-05-11T20:39:00.000-04:002018-05-11T20:55:57.156-04:00[Book Review] The Arsonist<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b><i><a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/314534/the-arsonist-by-stephanie-oakes/9780803740716/">The Arsonist</a></i>, by Stephanie Oakes</b></div>
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<b>© 2017 Penguin Random House</b></div>
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This one sat on our bookshelf for almost a year before my wife read it, but as soon as she finished she got me to read it, and now I'm kicking myself for not reading it sooner. More than once I live-texted my wife as I read, keeping her up-to-date on which jaw-dropping reversal of fortune I had just witnessed. <i>The Arsonist</i> has twists and turns, game-changing revelations and appalling betrayals, each one following close on the heels of another. At first, the bizarre cover art turned me off (though <b>full disclosure: I read an advance copy</b>, so the cover art and text of your version might be different), but once I started reading I quickly found the main characters engrossing. <i>The Arsonist</i> has three protagonists, all teenagers: epic-level weirdo and social pariah Molly Mavity, seizure-prone Kuwaiti immigrant Ibrahim "Pepper" Al-Yusef, and . . . well, the third protagonist is complicated.<br />
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The third protagonist is Ava Dreyman, and we mostly learn about her through her posthumously-published 1989 diary, which details her escape from East Germany in the mid-80s, followed by her return to rescue her mother, and her (apparent?) death at the hands of a high-ranking <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stasi">Stasi</a> officer. But as Molly and Pepper delve deeper into the mystery of Ava's death—which intertwines with the secrets kept from both of them by their respective parents—they are forced to question not only Ava's story, but the narratives which they've both built up to define their own lives and identities.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for Fernsehturm" src="http://www.fluentu.com/blog/german/wp-content/uploads/sites/5/2014/07/berliner-fernsehturm5.jpg" height="292" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Fernsehturm</i>, Berlin</td></tr>
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<i>The Arsonist</i> is marketed in the "Teen & Young Adult Mystery & Suspense" category (among others), but I feel that this sells the story somewhat short. While aimed at teenagers, this novel could easily find a welcome audience among adults. Arguably, adults who remember the Cold War might actually get <i>more</i> out of this story than its intended audience can. It's one thing to learn about the Cold War in history class, but it's very different if you actually lived through it. Personally, I was old enough to be vaguely familiar with the word "NATO" and know that it was on the news a lot, but since Berlin Wall came down when I had barely entered preschool, the Iron Curtain always seemed to me more like an artifact of the past than something that was briefly my contemporary. So for <i>me</i>, I feel I came away with a greater appreciation for events which took place during my own lifetime.<br />
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Oakes' gripping prose ricochets from viewpoint to viewpoint, rotating with blinding speed between Molly, Pepper, and excerpts from Ava's diary: which, in this fictional universe, is a large part of the reason the Berlin Wall came down in the first place. The shocking tale of Ava's state-sanctioned torture and death galvanized the downtrodden East German public and helped give them the courage to stand up to their monstrous rulers and its vast network of spies and informants; a sort of East German Anne Frank, if you will. But hero-worship makes us blind to realities we would often rather forget, or wish we had never known: as <a href="http://firefly.wikia.com/wiki/Malcolm_Reynolds">Captain Mal</a> once <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HG6UvDSuoF4">said</a>, "every man ever got a statue made of him was one kind of sumbitch or another." Turns out that little chestnut applies to teenage girls, too (though I won't say exactly how).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for Berlin's Palace of the Republic" height="158" src="https://www.failedarchitecture.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/Palast_der_Republik_DDR_1977-1010x400.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The <i>Palast der Republik</i>, East Berlin</td></tr>
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<i>The Arsonist</i> is also a poignant examination of loss, and the ways in which we heal, sometimes without realizing it, from wounds which we felt sure must kill us. All the characters in this book (and especially the three protagonists) are dealing with loss in one way or another, and the protagonists all have dead parents in their pasts. For Pepper, it's his mother, who died while giving birth to him in the shadow of a burning oil field during Operation Desert Storm. For Molly it's her mother, whom the rest of the world believes committed suicide three years ago, but whom Molly still insists upon believing is alive and in hiding for unknown reasons. And Ava... well, I won't spoil it for you, but let it never be said that writing, printing, and distributing a subversive newsletter and burning down Stasi administration buildings is an occupation that's free from risk.<br />
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Overall, I give <i>The Arsonist</i> the very highest marks, even in its unedited pre-publication form. Switching with ease between the hilarious and the horrifying, between snappy dialogue and heart-wrenching examinations of grief, adolescence, parenthood, and trauma and healing (both emotional and physical), <i>The Arsonist</i> is an adrenaline-fueled thrill ride that somehow finds time to sneak in an emotional sucker-punch or two when you're least expecting them.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-4246203802972031812018-03-09T21:42:00.000-05:002018-03-09T21:42:01.743-05:00[Book Review] Children of the Vampire<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>Children of the Vampire</i>, by Jeanne Kalogridis</b></div>
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<b>(<i>The Diaries of the Family Dracul</i>, Book Two)</b></div>
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<b>© 1995 Delacorte Press</b></div>
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After finishing the the first book in this series, the deliciously-disgusting and deeply disturbing <i>Covenant with the Vampire</i>, I was eager and excited to dive into this sequel, which picks up mere hours after the first entry left off. Unfortunately, despite a very strong opening and a taut overall construction, I found that my eagerness for more information on the origins and nature of the infamous Count Dracula was hampered by lopsided dramatic structure, and the introduction of several new elements which I personally find incongruous with the <i>Dracula</i> mythos, and with vampires in general.</div>
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[Obviously, this being the second in a series, reviewing <i>Children of the Vampire</i> will entail <b>spoilers for the ending and major plot developments of the previous book, <i>Covenant with the Vampire</i></b>. Consider yourself forewarned and forearmed.]</div>
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<i>Children</i> begins with an excerpt from <i>Covenant</i>: two diary entries which explain Vlad Dracul's origin as <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strigoi">strigoi</a></i>, the true natures of his no-less-than three secret covenants <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">— </span>one with the townsfolk who provide him with victims, one with the eldest male of his mortal descendants who disposes of his victims' bodies to prevent them from rising as undead, and one with the Devil himself (the details of which are as-yet unknown). As Arkady's (now-undead) sister Zsuzsanna explains, "The soul of the eldest surviving son of each Tsepesh generation: that is the gold with which he purchases his immortality." </div>
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<i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cphNpqKpKc4">Dun dun DUNNNNN!</a></i></div>
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As I've stated previously, the opening of <i>Children </i>is highly compelling, beginning with a description of Arkady's first, doomed attempt to slay the monster who made him one of the undead at the end of the previous installment. This is honestly one of the finest bits of exposition I've ever read, and it beautifully illustrates the ungodly strength against which Arkady has arrayed himself. I'm going to quote at length from this passage, because it's <i>just. That. Damn. Good.</i></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i> I</i><i> leapt at him</i><i> with the stake, aiming to plunge deep it into his chest. As I did so, he stepped aside with supernatural speed and grace</i></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">—</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: italic;">and caught the hand that held the stake, with such might that my arm was pulled from its socket.<br /> I howled, tried to wrest free, but his strength outmatched mine tenfold; with a brutal yank, he tore the arm from me, leaving my shoulder a stump that spewed my latest victim's blood. As I watched, stunned, he tossed it</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">—</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: italic;">the fingers still clutching the stake</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">—</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: italic;">with casual grace into the fire.<br /> But I too was no longer mortal; so, neither, was my wound. The pain blinded for one brief brilliant instant, then transformed into pure energizing rage. Again I charged</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">—</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: italic;">this time knocking V. into the flames.<br /> As he struggled to rise, hair and waistcoat ablaze, I retrieved my severed limb</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">—</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: italic;">only to realise, with amazement, that another had instantaneously and completely regrown to take its place. I snatched the charred stake from my erstwhile fingers and, oblivious to its blistering heat, rushed with it at V.<br /> To my surprise, he spread his arms in welcome, a smouldering, willing target that wore the Devil's own grin. I struck out with every shred of my newfound immortal strength, determined to drive the stake clear through his cold heart; struck out again. Again. Again.<br /> The stake would not pierce him.<br /> Like a madman, I flailed at him with it</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">—</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-style: italic;">but it was as though the very air itself formed an impenetrable cushion above his chest. I hammered away until the wood itself began to splinter. All the while, he laughed, soft and low, with the condescension of an adult watching a helplessly furious child; but them his amusement faded and turned to murderous fury.</span></blockquote>
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I <i>know</i>, right?</div>
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After his abortive attempt on Vlad's (un)life, Arkady lays low in Vienna for a while, until he gets a visit from his dear old sister Zsuzsanna, who shows up with two drunken victims as a peace-offering. She instructs her brother in the subtle art of seduction, but the scene turns horrific when Arkady realizes that she's used her vampiric mesmerism (and the heady rush from feeding off a pair of wine-sops) to trick him into having drunken sex with <i>her</i>, his own sister! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>EEEEEUUUUUGHHHH!</i></td></tr>
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After this abrupt splash of cold water on what had been an entertaining scene which walked the fine line between horror and voyeurism, we're told that Zsuza transgressed this most ancient of boundaries in the hopes of conceiving a <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dhampir">dhampir</a></i>: apparently in this mythos (and real-world Slavic folklore), vampires retain the ability to reproduce during their first year after being turned. This seems like a big change to the generally-accepted <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OurVampiresAreDifferent">rules of vampirism</a>, but I was willing to let it slide if the author could to something interesting with it. Unfortunately, she never does. That's right, Ms. Kalogridis just blue-balls her readers purely to fuck with us, because <i>nothing ever comes of this development</i>! Zsuza does not conceive, and asides from establishing that she <i>really </i>regrets never having children of her own while she was alive, the whole incest shocker contributes <i>nothing</i> to the overall plot! The author could have just had Zsuzsa say "I really regret not having kids while I was alive", she didn't have to set us up with erotic expectation and then shove a steaming platter of incest in our faces!</div>
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I mean really, who <i>does</i> that to their readers?</div>
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Anyway, Zsuzsa tells Arkady he's not strong enough to challenge Vlad (duh), but <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MyKungFuIsStrongerThanYours">he can get stronger by training</a> at the Scholomance, a school for the black arts that's hidden somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains. Off he goes into the wild black yonder, and the story jumps ahead twenty-six years to Amsterdam, where Mary Windham Tsepesh (now known as Mary Tsepesh Van Helsing) has just buried her second husband, the kindly doctor who helped the Tsepeshes to spirit away their infant son Stefan from Vlad's clutches at the end of the last book. It kind of bothered me that the good doctor went by the assumed name "Dr Kohl" while travelling to Castle Dracula in the last book, instead of just using his real name. Seems like a cheap way of ramping up tension, by revealing that he was hiding his identity for no discernible reason.</div>
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Overall, the novel's dramatic structure feels lopsided. The climax is only two-thirds of the way through the book. Despite its power (and there is a revelation which turns the entire plot of the novel UPSIDE DOWN!), the fact that the denouement is SO LONG makes this climax seem anticlimactic, even though in the strictest sense, it isn't.<br />
<br />
I guess I'm feeling a little trepidation that so many seemingly disparate elements have been introduced, but still intrigued enough to see where the final installment takes me. The friend who loaned me the series said she didn't remember much about the second book;; it's the first and the third which stand out in her memory. Home fully that's a sign of good things to come. As always, I'll let you know how it all turns out, Dear Readers.</div>
Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-88015050781819040702018-02-19T22:56:00.000-05:002018-02-20T05:45:49.418-05:00[Film Review] Black Panther<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Image result for black panther poster" height="400" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BMTg1MTY2MjYzNV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMTc4NTMwNDI@._V1_UY1200_CR90,0,630,1200_AL_.jpg" width="210" /></div>
<br />
If you're a white boy (or girl) like me, this is likely to be your first foray into <a href="https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/opinion-broadnax-afrofuturism-black-panther_us_5a85f1b9e4b004fc31903b95">Afrofuturism</a>. I think it might be for me, though I can't be sure -- it's not like there's a comprehensive Afrofuturist Registry or whatever. But whether it's your first encounter with Black-created science fiction or your thousandth, <i>Black Panther</i> offers something I can promise (with reasonable certainty) that you've never seen before: a big-budget Hollywood blockbuster movie, created by Black authors, artists, and actors, tied into a major and extremely popular shared cinematic universe, in which Blackness is not only prominent, but portrayed positively and in a way which is central to the story. <i>Black Panther</i> goes to places I never expected to see a Hollywood movie deal with in such a frank manner, and even goes so far as to point the blinding cultural spotlight that is the Marvel Cinematic Universe towards some disturbing and controversial truths.<br />
<br />
Yeah, that's right: this movie asks you to consider some uncomfortable facts about race in America, Africa, and the African Diaspora. Deal with it. You'll still get to see awesome fight scenes, top-notch special effects, and subtle nods to Marvel Comics and MCU history. It's not all sad-times and serious business: there's plenty of domestic comedy, explosions, and affectionate kisses from battle-rhinos to keep you entertained.<br />
<br />
[This review will contain <b>mild spoilers for the first act of <i>Black Panther</i></b>, but I'll do my best not to ruin the major surprises for you.]<br />
<br />
The tale begins with a visually-stunning infodump which explains the history of <a href="http://marvelcinematicuniverse.wikia.com/wiki/Wakanda">Wakanda</a> and its massive deposits of the super-metal <a href="http://marvelcinematicuniverse.wikia.com/wiki/Vibranium">vibranium</a>, as well as their decision to conceal their technological prowess from the rest of the world, and how they came to select the first Black Panther as their king. Since then, the title of king-and-Black-Panther has passed from father to son in the royal line: upon the recent assassination of King T'Chaka (John Kani) in <i>Captain America: Civil War</i>, the mantle passes to his son, Prince T'Challa (Chadwick Boseman).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for black panther" height="266" src="https://africa.cgtn.com/wp-content/photo-gallery/2018/02/636499246365485042-Black-Panther.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Women are well and strongly represented; most of T'Challa's <br />
entourage, from his bodyguards to his tech guru, are female.</td></tr>
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(From the very first shot, I was reminded of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02sXPkfS9UE">that scene from the beginning of <i>Roots</i></a>, in which newborn Kunta Kinte is held up to take his first look at the night sky by his father, who tells his infant son "Behold! The only thing greater than yourself." In a way, <i>Black Panther</i> is a love-letter from Black parents (and aunts, uncles, big brothers, and big sisters), to the next generation of Black children, saying "Behold! <i>This </i>is how awesome your future could be; make it so.")<br />
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After that we jump ahead to Oakland, California in 1992, where King T'Chaka shows up unannounced, surprising his younger brother Prince N'Jobu (Sterling K. Brown), who has secretly been arming people of African descent with Wakandan weaponry in order to bring about revolution. T'Chaka is forced by this betrayal -- and N'Jobu's attempt on the life of T'Chaka's adviser -- to kill his younger brother, an act which will have dire consequences for T'Chaka's kingdom . . . and for his son in particular.<br />
<br />
Next we skip ahead to the modern day where T'Challa ascends to the throne after a quick round of ritual combat. He learns that <i>Age of Ultron</i> villain Ulysses Klaue (Andy Serkis) -- who recently stole a sizable chunk of Wakandan vibranium and killed several people in the process -- has resurfaced in Busan, South Korea, which prompts T'Challa to round up a posse -- consisting of his ex-lover Nakia (Lupita Nyong'o) and his chief honor-guardswoman Okoye (Danai Gurira) -- and head out to bring him in. This plan of course goes south, forcing T'Challa to return empty-handed . . . or nearly so. CIA operative Everett Ross (Martin Freeman) gets caught in the crossfire of Klaue's escape (which is effected by one Erik "Killmonger" Stevens (Michael B. Jordan), a former U.S. black ops soldier and son of Prince N'Jobu, making him T'Challa's cousin), and T'Challa decides they can't leave the man to die from wounds he sustained in "their" fight. So they pack Ross onto their quinjet and take him back to Wakanda for a round of super-healing . . . which entails exposing their country's technological superiority to an outsider (and a white guy to boot!)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for killmonger" height="266" src="https://icdn9.digitaltrends.com/image/michael-b-jordan-interview-black-panther-killmonger-creed-1321-1500x1000.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael B. Jordan lends villain Erik Killmonger a formidable emotional range,<br />
from a scary-intense calm to a bitter, wrathful spite.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But of course, things go from bad to worse when Killmonger shows up unexpectedly in Wakanda, revealing his hidden heritage and, by dint of his royal blood, challenging T'Challa for the throne . . . and the mantle of the Black Panther!<br />
<br />
Alright, that's all the storyline I'm gonna spoil for you. Onward, to the review!<br />
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I don't think I've ever seen a movie with a token white guy before: it was an interesting inversion of the status quo. I also think it was a smart move on the writers' part, because by making a White man (Martin Freeman) one of the good guys, they preclude the inevitable <a href="https://www.theroot.com/an-open-letter-to-white-people-who-are-upset-because-bl-1823050044">racist braying</a> that the film demonizes White people. The film doesn't exclude White people, neither from the protagonists nor from the antagonists, it simply takes the logical step of casting a movie set mostly in Africa with mostly people of African descent. Seems perfectly reasonable to me.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Killmonger is unusual for a Marvel villain: instead of being crazy-eyed psycho or a moustache-twirling omnicidal tyrant, Killmonger is calm and soft-spoken, almost </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">scarily calm: a marked departure from his depiction in the comics, where he's about as restrained as Hulk Hogan. The villain was actually one of the film's strongest points (and <i>Black Panther</i> has a great many strong points). While he's unquestionably evil and clearly not interested in what's best for Wakanda -- or anyone else, including himself -- once we learn his backstory, he becomes . . . not exactly </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">sympathetic </i><span style="font-family: inherit;">exactly </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">(we can't agree with his methods, or even his goals), we can at least understand what made him so fucked-up in the first place, and feel bad for him and his misfortune at the hands of an unjust system and his betrayal/abandonment by the people (his own flesh and blood) who should have taken him in and cared for him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><i>Black Panther</i> doesn't shy away from uncomfortable truths about the African condition, both in Africa itself and across the globe (e.g., black-on-black crime, institutionalized racism, stereotyping, the need for <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pan-Africanism">Pan-Africanism</a>, etc.) As Killmonger points out (as near as I can remember the quote), "Y'all sittin' up here comfortable [while] there's about two billion people all over the world that looks like us, but their lives are a lot harder [than yours]."<br />
<br />
Killmonger is unusually philosophical for a Marvel villain: his words (especially his final line of the film) will stay with you long after <i>Black Panther</i> is over. Just make sure you stay until the very, very end.<br />
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<tr><td><img alt="Image result for black panther" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRon7AubUAOEG-rNRbJSNg0vtykOhsPDi6cMA_1H_j9HhAUOSiP" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
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<i>Wakanda forever!</i>Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-40410357447613820272018-02-07T17:15:00.003-05:002018-02-07T17:15:35.774-05:00Black Panther: A Nation Under Our Feet - Books One and Two<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b><i>Black Panther: A Nation Under Our Feet</i> - Books One and Two </b><b>(Marvel, 2016)</b><br />
<b>Writer:</b> Ta-Nehisi Coates<br />
<b>Illustrator:</b> Brian Stelfreeze<br />
<b>Colorist:</b> Laura Martin<br />
<b>Letterer:</b> Joe Sabino<br />
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One of my New Year's resolutions was to get through my huge backlog of reading material, which by necessity entails NOT adding even more books to my already-overstocked reading list. Which is why I can't say that I planned to read <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/author/ta-nehisi-coates/">Ta-Nehisi Coates</a>' newest addition to the Marvel Universe, it just kind of <i>happened </i>one day when I saw these sweet-looking comics on display at my local library, just sitting there... tempting me... with their topicality and sick cover-art and Ta-Nehisi's name up there on the cover like some big... tempty thing.<br />
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Besides, I'd never read a Black Panther comic before, so I figured it'd be an interesting new experience. <i>It's background reading, so you can appreciate the movie better</i>, I told myself. <i>It'll count as "doing something for Black History Month" or whatever</i>.<br />
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This being part of the Marvel Universe, the tale begins <i>in medias res</i> - or rather, <i>ex post facto</i>: <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Wakanda">Wakanda</a>, the African nation of which T'Challa (a.k.a. the <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Black_Panther">Black Panther</a>) is king, has just endured a series of deadly calamities: a Biblical flood instigated by <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Namor_McKenzie_(Earth-616)">Namor the Sub-Mariner</a>, an invasion by <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Thanos">Thanos</a>, and a <i>coup d'état</i> by <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Doctor_Doom">Doctor Doom</a> which left T'Challa's sister Shuri, the previous Black Panther, trapped between life and death. The country is in chaos, and many Wakandans feel that their king has failed to protect them, and that therefore he "is no king at all". The sorcerer <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Tetu_(Earth-616)">Tetu</a> and his mind-witch <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Zenzi_(Earth-616)">Zenzi</a> feel that monarchy has served Wakanda poorly, and so they stir up anti-royal, pro-democratic sentiment among T'Challa's subjects to fuel their Nigandan-backed revolution. Meanwhile, two of the <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Dora_Milaje_(Earth-616)">Dora Milaje</a> (the king's all-female honor guards) have gone rogue: after Aneka murders a serial rapist in an extra-judicial killing and is sentenced to death for undermining the rule of law, her lover Ayo steals a pair of prototype exoskeletons and breaks Aneka out of prison. Dubbing themselves the Midnight Angels, the two set off on an anti-rape rampage across Wakanda's lawless hinterlands, murdering bandit-kings and sexually-abusive patriarchs without trial or mercy. T'Challa is forced to hunt down and apprehend two of his own beloved and loyal servants<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">—</span>women with whom he agrees on the righteousness of their cause, in theory if not in practice<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">—</span>in order to preserve the rule of law in his own kingdom.<br />
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One of the things I really like about <i>A Nation Under Our Feet </i>is that no one could really be called a "villain", at least not in the traditional, mustache-twirling sense. Sure, there are minor characters like the <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/White_Gorilla_(Earth-616)">White Gorilla</a> and <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Ezekiel_Stane_(Earth-616)">Zeke Stane</a> (son of the villain from the first <i>Iron Man</i> movie) who you just love to hate, but for the most part all of the people working against Black Panther have sympathetic goals, even if we don't agree with their methods. What American reader could hear about an attempt to overthrow a hereditary monarchy and replace it with democracy and not feel at least a little affinity for their cause? What person with a heart could hear about systematic rapists being murdered by the very women they abused without feeling at least a twinge of poetic justice? Much like <i>Game of Thrones</i>, the reader is never sure who to root for, because we know that victory for one side means defeat for another faction with which we sympathize.<br />
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In fact, Coates makes us wonder for a while whether T'Challa is even the guy we're supposed to be rooting for. In Book Two, in a desperate attempt to restore order to his rapidly-disintegrating country <a href="http://www.blackpast.org/1964-malcolm-x-s-speech-founding-rally-organization-afro-american-unity">by any means necessary</a>, T'Challa recruits a consultancy team made up of the worst of the world's leaders: men who employ spies and torturers and even outright terrorism against their own people to maintain their own fragile grasp on power... and he <i>asks them for their advice</i>! T'Challa even uses nanobot technology of questionable origin (i.e., Doctor Doom) to enhance his own search for his sister's wayward soul. Speaking of whom, Book Two is interlaced with Shuri's story, as her soul journeys through the <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Djalia">Djalia</a>, the spiritual plane of Wakandan memory, where she learns the history of her people from a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Griot">griot</a>-spirit while simultaneously coming into her own, truer self. Book Two also sees the Panther teaming up with <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Crew_(Earth-616)">The Crew</a>, an all-Black team of superheroes including Luke Cage and Storm, who help T'Challa raid a terrorist hideout in the grand, over-the-top, bullets-flying-in-your-face tradition of the very finest blaxploitation films of the 1970s.<br />
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At times, the use of Wakandan vocabulary was confusing. Words like <i>jabari</i>, <i>mjinga</i>, and <i>jambazi</i> are just tossed off by the cast without any explanation or easy way to look them up. At first I thought I could guess what they meant from context, but I kept coming across clues that made me think I had got it wrong. I realize that this is how people talk, without constantly explaining themselves, but a Wakandan dictionary, or a glossary at the end of the book, would have been nice.<div>
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Speaking of extras at the end of the book, both volumes feature "Process & Development" sections which include samples of character art, rough sketches of individual characters and entire pages, and excerpts from Coates' script. These bonuses are kind of interesting, but they won't really teach you anything new about how comic books get made.</div>
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Finally, each volume ends with reprints of classic Black Panther issues. Book One includes the Panther's first-ever appearance in <i><a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Fantastic_Four_Vol_1_52">Fantastic Four #52</a></i>, a fun romp through a <a href="http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Techno_Organic_Jungle">techno-organic jungle</a> populated with deafeningly-bright primary colors and Jack Kirby's trippy, mechano-fantastic visuals. Book Two concludes with two issues of <i><a href="http://comicsalliance.com/black-panther-panthers-rage-don-mcgregor/">Panther's Rage</a></i>, a 1973 adventure-tale which is <i>extremely</i>, at times hilariously, 80s. The main villain, Erik Killmonger (yes, that's his actual surname), is a bare-chested, spike-wearing, whip-wielding African giant who appears to dunk his entire head in a bucket of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=irFrB5LMRkM">Soul-Glo</a> every morning.</div>
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I <i>think </i>this is the first time the Black Panther has had both a Black writer <i>and</i> a Black illustrator at the same time, though I can't swear to that. Either way, Coates and Stelfreeze work well together, and I look forward to seeing more from this pairing. Coates' storytelling is excellent (<i>A Nation Under Our Feet</i> was <a href="http://www.thehugoawards.org/hugo-history/2017-hugo-awards/">nominated</a> for a Hugo award for Best Graphic Story), but there are occasional resorts to well-worn comic book cliches (faked deaths, infodumps, deliberately misleading the reader, etc.) to heighten drama. I also found the story in Book One a little difficult to follow; I had to read it twice before I fully understood all the players and their various motivations, but Book Two flowed much better, once all the exposition was out of the way.</div>
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Overall, <i>Black Panther: A Nation Under Our Feet</i> is a rollicking adventure yarn which doubles as subtle political commentary. Under the guise of discussing the myriad troubles which beset this fictional African country, Coates surreptitiously introduces and explores topics which are near and dear to his heart, such as internalized racism, statecraft and kingship, and what it is that truly makes a country (and its king) great:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>T'CHALLA</b>: The day after I became king, [my uncle] S'Yan offered a single piece of wisdom. "Power lies not in what a king does, but in what his subjects believe he might do." This was profound. For it meant that the majesty of kings lay in their mystique... not in their might. Every act of might diminished the king, for it diminished his mystique. Might exposed the king's powers and thus his limits. Might made the king human. Breakable. [...] [W]hat the people know not is the true power of kings.</span></blockquote>
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Holy act of Congress, Batman! <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SarcasmMode">It's almost like he isn't talking about Africa at all</a>!</div>
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Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-61649349067185265572018-02-03T18:19:00.002-05:002018-02-03T19:40:20.048-05:00[Book Review] The Rational Optimist: How Prosperity Evolves<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Image result for the rational optimist" height="400" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41MLwBkcIKL._SX330_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" width="266" /></div>
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<i><b>The Rational Optimist: How Prosperity Evolves</b></i><br />
<b>by Matt Ridley (HarperCollins, 2010)</b><br />
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Written just after — and published in the midst of the the fallout from — the Great Recession of 2008, Matt Ridley's <i>The Rational Optimist</i> is something of an aberration in the world of nonfiction prognostication: a text which, <a href="http://www.startrek.com/database_article/roddenberry">Roddenberry</a>-like, dares to suggest that not only are we probably <i>not </i>headed for disaster, but the future will almost certainly be better than even our wildest dreams; better than we ever dared to hope.<br />
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Counter-intuitively, this is <i>not </i>a thought which many people enjoy entertaining. Most people (and I include myself in this statement — or at least, I used to) would like, even <i>need</i>, to believe that the world cannot go on without them, or at least without the particular set of circumstances which created them as individuals. These doomsayers would have us believe that the world was in a constant state of improvement until roughly the time they were born, which <i>just so happened</i> to be the apex of human civilization, and everything after that has been and will continue to be one <a href="https://geekdomhouse.com/galadriel-and-the-long-defeat/">long defeat</a>.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.smbc-comics.com/comics/20110522.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://www.smbc-comics.com/comics/20110522.gif" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal</i>, © Zach Weinersmith (yes, really)</td></tr>
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Though this kind of thinking is understandable (every human being lives at what they perceive as the tail-end of history), Mr. Ridley makes some pretty compelling arguments why this conclusion is fallacious. For one, we can look back on the last 100,000 years of history and see that life has steadily gotten better in every way we can measure. Compared to the first members of <i>Homo sapiens </i>(or heck, even our parents and grandparents) modern humans eat better, live longer, have fewer chronic diseases, are less likely to die from violence, reproduce less, produce more food using less land, extract more energy from less fuel, and generally live better lives than ever before in our species' millennia of existence. Granted, this progress hasn't always been fast, and it never happens evenly across the entire population, but even the poorest human on earth today lives a life which is measurably better than that of the earliest hominids; even pre-contact tribes of the remote Amazon have bows and arrows, stone tools, and fire. It is the height of arrogance, the author asserts, to look back on this steady and ceaseless march of progress and conclude that the future must hold nothing but ruin and degeneracy (and to be honest, despite my natural inclination towards pessimism, I find myself agreeing with him almost against my will).<br />
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<i>The Rational Optimist</i> is broken down into eleven chapters, which trace the arc of human history in roughly chronological from our early hominid predecessors (like <i>Homo erectus</i> and neanderthals) all the way to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Technological_singularity">the Singularity</a> of the near-future. The author's main thesis is that all human progress comes from ideas "having sex" with each other: that it the process of exchange and cross-fertilization which gives birth to new ideas and technologies, allowing us to raise our standard of living in ways that other tool-using animals do not. "Exchange is to cultural evolution as sex is to biological evolution", Ridley asserts in the prologue.<br />
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Ridley also makes the assertion that the dominance of <i>Homo sapiens </i>stems from the fact that we are the only animal which trades, which exchanges like for unlike. Other animals exchange food and grooming and sex in the hopes of reciprocal food, grooming, and/or sex at a later date, but only humans exchange sex for food, or food for tools, or one type of food for a different foodstuff. This tendency toward exchange and specialization allows us to draw on our species' collective brain, instead of being trapped by the endless treadmill of self-reliance. A self-sufficient hunter-gatherer must spend all of his mental energy on filling his head with the million-and-one things he needs to know in order to get enough calories by himself; conversely, a fisherman and a farmer can use trade and specialization so that each of them eats a more varied and healthier diet and has more leisure time (which they can use to consume more and provide employment to yet more people) without either having the faintest how the other plies his trade.<br />
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<img alt="Image result for cavemen trading" height="192" src="https://static.businessinsider.com/image/5447fe87ecad04d5588b4569/image.gif" width="400" /></div>
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Ridley goes on to point out that despite its <a href="http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Ferengi">Ferengi</a>-esque reputation, commerce has done more good for humanity than almost any other force in history. Slavery was one of our earliest inventions, but it was the steam-engine which abolished the slave trade by making it no longer profitable. Brutal, appalling cruelty towards both humans and animals was a (if not <i>the</i>) major form of entertainment in the pre-industrial world, but once our economic well-being no longer depended on human- and animal-powered labor, bloodsports became unacceptable. Ridley opines that "Political decisions are by definition monopolistic, disenfranchising, and despotically majoritarian; markets are good at supplying minority needs."<br />
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In the final chapter, Ridley lays out his case for optimism about our future. This is where lots of optimists falter, and their two biggest stumbling-blocks are usually African poverty and global warming. Ridley soberly and realistically assesses both these issues, and not only finds cause for hope, but goes so far as to say that not only should we not despair of these twin terrors of the future, it is our <i>moral duty</i> to continue to believe that things can get better. The moment we stop believing that things can improve is the moment the world's most desperately poor and underprivileged cease being able to claw their way out of poverty. Ridley says "It is precisely because there is still far more suffering and scarcity in the world than I or anybody else with a heart would wish that ambitious optimism is morally mandatory. [...] those who offer counsels of despair or calls to slow down in the face of looming environmental disaster may not only be factually but morally wrong."<br />
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Now for the stuff I <i>didn't</i> agree with.<br />
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Ridley has a pretty dim view of religion and of the state <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">— t</span>o him, priests and politicians are "tiresome fellow[s]" at best, and "parasites" at worst (which I guess they are at the worst of times, but I think it ignores a lot of nuance, and at their best I do believe that they can make tangible improvements to a great many human lives). It worries me that he doesn't hold with the conventional wisdom that global warming will devastate our planet's food supply and economy (though he does admit that resettling all those billions of people who live in future flood-zones will be expensive, and likely contentious), pointing out that just a few decades ago, scientists were sounding the alarms because global <i>cooling</i>, which they said would <i>also</i> devastate our planet's food supply and economy. Also concerning is that he's extremely gung-ho about genetic modification as a future food source, a bandwagon I'm not quite ready to jump on just yet. I fear that he may be overestimating humanity's tolerance for change and improvement, but so far we've done a pretty good job of adapting to some really spectacular levels of change and chaos — after all, we've made it through the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warring_States_period">Warring States period</a>, the Dark Ages, the Black Death, two World Wars, <i>and</i> the Cold War without <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sPbjPOgRtyA">blowing it all up</a>, haven't we?<br />
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While I might not yet be 100% on board with the optimism bandwagon, <i>The Rational Optimist</i> has achieved something remarkable: it has demolished or damaged most of the arguments I previously used as justification for my pessimistic cynicism. For decades, I've assumed the worst about the future and humanity, but Matt Ridley has pointed out an uncomfortable truth: that my pessimism turns out to be unnecessary and incorrect a lot more often than I'd like to believe. It feels kind of weird to think about the future and experience neither stomach-churning fear nor bitter pessimism, but it's a feeling I could get used to. Pessimism is a habit I've had for a long, long time, and being without it (even though I never enjoyed it) feels kind of strange, like suddenly regrowing a long-lost limb.<br />
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I won't say I'm an optimist now, but I can't say I'm a pessimist anymore. And isn't <i>that</i> a reason to be hopeful?Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-83187985053421498312018-01-25T21:12:00.000-05:002019-03-26T09:24:39.964-04:00[Movie Review] To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfw7_56tQysDyrhv21lmsVfKaZZ1Bd1vsckTn913QIXOMF1BO0fqL82hI8WbwqRjjITU59n9nL7-2vC44GIKlDD9nBZDWRFtMBhnNKoMiv2_BVYmu7BaptFG_AQYj_P1gEB9Qfla1Fabvx/s1600/to+wong+foo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="312" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfw7_56tQysDyrhv21lmsVfKaZZ1Bd1vsckTn913QIXOMF1BO0fqL82hI8WbwqRjjITU59n9nL7-2vC44GIKlDD9nBZDWRFtMBhnNKoMiv2_BVYmu7BaptFG_AQYj_P1gEB9Qfla1Fabvx/s320/to+wong+foo.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
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<i><b>To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar</b></i><br />
<b>Universal Pictures/Amblin Entertainment, 1995</b><br />
<b>Director</b>: Beeban Kidron<br />
<b>Writer</b>: Douglas Carter Beane<br />
<b>Starring</b>: Wesley Snipes, Patrick Swayze, John Leguizamo, Robin Williams<br />
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My wife has been trying to get me to watch this movie for years, and I'm glad I finally got around to it. I positively giggled like a schoolgirl; I challenge you to watch Wesley Snipes giggling maniacally while slipping into a pair of black thigh-high nylons, and not be tempted to giggle yourself.<br />
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It felt really, deliciously weird to see extremely masculine actors (who — need I remind you — respectively played the eponymous vampire-hunting protagonist of the <i>Blade</i> trilogy and longtime hetero sex-symbol Johnny from <i>Dirty Dancing</i>) playing ultra-feminine drag queens. What's more, these drag-queens are most fabulous drag queens in New York: Noxeema Jackson (Wesley Snipes) and Vida Boheme (Patrick Swayze) are finalists in a drag competition in NYC, and earn the right to continue on to the finals, which will take place in Hollywood in just a few days' time. Pausing briefly to take the hapless "drag princess" Chi-Chi Rodriguez (John Leguizamo) under their wing, before heading off on a cross-country road trip from the Big Apple to Tinseltown... with an unplanned stop in Podunk, USA.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Noxeema, you remember John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt?"<br />
"Oh yes: his name is my name, too!"</td></tr>
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There's a really excellent cameo by the late great Robin Williams as the proprietor of New York's gayest restaurant (which is <i>really </i>saying something), who gives the girls a lead on a trustworthy used-car dealer when he learns they can't afford plane tickets. While his back is turned, the girls "borrow" a signed portrait of famed actress, dancer, singer, and lingerie inventor <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julie_Newmar">Julie Newmar</a>, in hope that her divine favor will bless their road-trip and guide them to victory in the nationals.<br />
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The girls, of course, select the less-reliable but <i>far</i> more fashionable <a href="http://www.imcdb.org/vehicle_67854-Cadillac-DeVille-Convertible-1967.html">1967 Cadillac DeVille convertible</a>, which looks great but breaks down somewhere in the Midwest (it's never established exactly where, but I'm guessing anywhere from Ohio to Missouri <b>[edit: apparently it was filmed in Nebraska]</b>). Forced to wait out the weekend in <a href="https://english.stackexchange.com/questions/13372/what-is-the-etymology-of-bfe">B.F.E.</a> until the replacement part arrives on Monday, the girls settle into the (as in, the only) bed-and-breakfast and proceed to spruce up the town and enhance the lives of its residents over the course of a long weekend (kind of like <i>Thor</i>, but with phenomenal hair and outfits).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for thor warriors three" height="170" src="https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/marvelmovies/images/0/0a/WarriorsThree1-Thor.png/revision/latest?cb=20140208032444" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Actually, scratch that: it's a lot like <i style="text-align: start;">Thor</i><span style="text-align: start;"> after all.</span></span></td></tr>
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Before I get into analysis, please allow me to clarify that these characters are <i>not </i>women trapped in men's bodies, they are something altogether more fantastic. As Noxeema explains it,<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"When a straight man puts on a dress and gets his sexual kicks, he is a transvestite. When a man is a woman trapped in a man's body and has a little operation he is a transsexual. [. . .] When a gay man has way too much fashion sense for one gender he is a drag queen."</i></blockquote>
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While it's probably a little simplistic (to say nothing of being dated), I'm going to use this definition for the purposes of my review, because A) it's much easier than wading into the minefield that is LGBTQ nomenclature, and B) why complicate things by using a definition other than the one being used in the work you're reviewing? Anyway, moving right along...</div>
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I don't think that anyone would ever accuse <i>Wong Foo</i> of being overly realistic; the townsfolk are very accepting of Vida, Noxeema, and Chi-Chi right off the bat, despite what would probably be seen in real life as repeated attempts to impose big-city relativism on traditional small-town values. IRL, the girls would probably get run out of town just for trying to insert themselves into the residents private lives and business. Though personally I'd say that stopping domestic violen<span style="background-color: white;">ce and putting paid to sexual harassers and would-be rapists would fall more into the "civic sanitation" </span>category, but that's just one man's opinion.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">The first and second acts are full of shots like this one, in which "the girls" visibly inject bright color into an otherwise dull world of grays, sun-bleaching, and earth-tones.</td></tr>
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Like its protagonists, <i>To Wong Foo</i> seems to care more about style than substance. Please understand that I don't mean this in a bad way: I'm not saying that the movie lacks depth or emotional power. I'm saying that while the plot it offers is not likely to occur in the real world, it offers an idealized, artificially-constructed alternate reality, in which diversity is not just accepted but celebrated, where the banal is cast off in favor of the fabulous, and where getting out of a rut is as easy as changing your outfit and wig.<br />
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Hmm... stern, cold reality taking a backseat to airy, extravagant, self-conscious artifice? That sounds <i>exactly</i> like a drag queen to me. :-)Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-29197851033335855312018-01-21T21:20:00.002-05:002018-01-21T21:20:16.293-05:00[Movie Review] Fried Green Tomatoes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<img alt="Image result for fried green tomatoes poster" height="400" src="http://img.moviepostershop.com/fried-green-tomatoes-movie-poster-1991-1020199618.jpg" width="260" /></div>
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<b>Director</b>: Jon Avnet<br />
<b>Producers</b>: Jon Avnet, Norman Lear<br />
<b>Writers</b>: Fannie Flagg, Carol Sobieski<br />
<b>Based upon</b>:<b> </b>the novel <i>Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe</i>, by Fannie Flagg<br />
<b>Starring</b>: Kathy Bates, Jessica Tandy, Mary Stuart Masterson, Mary-Louise Parker, Cicely Tyson<br />
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This was actually the second or third time I've watched what <a href="http://simpsons.wikia.com/wiki/Manjula_Nahasapeemapetilon">Manjula Nahasapeemapetilon</a> famously called her "favorite book, movie, and food". Since this film is so well-known (and so old), and since I'm not recording my first thoughts on the subject, I'm going to try something a little different for this review. Instead of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fried_Green_Tomatoes#Plot">summarizing the plot</a> for you, I'm just going to launch right into some of my thoughts and musings on this rightly-famous classic of American cinema.<br />
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If you've never seen it, I'd like to take this opportunity to issue a <b><u>SPOILER WARNING</u></b> (though I'm pretty sure the <a href="https://www.penny-arcade.com/comic/2005/12/05/as-regards-spoilification">statute of limitations on spoilers</a> has expired by now).<br />
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The first thing that struck me about this movie was how quickly we're made to feel a strong emotional attachment to Buddy: in the space of a single scene, we're introduced to this caring and loving older brother to tomboyish Idgie (and beau to the young and beautiful Ruth), made to understand that he is a caring and loving individual, charming and sweet besides, and to appreciate his gift for both storytelling and chivalry -- which, of course, leads to his heart-wrenching demise at the wheels of an oncoming train.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Related image" src="http://drivenforward.com/upload/Blog/fgt.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"C'mon, Buddy! Get out! Get outta there!"</td></tr>
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When Buddy dies, we're mainly led to feel bad for Ruth and Idgie, but I had never before considered the fact that Idgie's father nearly bankrupted himself to pay for her older sister's wedding, which was to take place later that day -- a wedding which said older sister feared would be "ruined" by Idgie's unladylike behavior, but was instead ruined by the unexpected and brutal death of the family's oldest son, just yards away from the family home. Not only did this tragedy leave both Idgie and Ruth emotionally scarred, it also ruined what was supposed to be the happiest day of her older sister's life, and must have resulted in the total loss of nearly all of the considerable sum her father expended on the wedding and its paraphernalia (the movie never does say whether the wedding was rescheduled, but I hope it was, because otherwise Buddy's death would cast a black cloud over the older sister's wedding anniversaries in perpetuity -- which I admit seems kind of small compared to the loss of a son and brother, but it <i>is</i> another twist of the knife nonetheless).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://mystery756.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/fgt-idgie-to-frank-bennett-if-you-ever-touch-her-again-ill-kill-you-gif.gif?w=670" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="255" data-original-width="500" height="203" src="https://mystery756.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/fgt-idgie-to-frank-bennett-if-you-ever-touch-her-again-ill-kill-you-gif.gif?w=670" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preach, sister.</td></tr>
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Speaking of knives, Big George must love Idgie <i>a lot</i> if he's willing to threaten -- albeit indirectly -- a white man in 1920s Alabama. George would have known he was taking his life (and possibly the lives of his family) into his hands when he pulled the knife from his pocket and began nonchalantly trimming his nails with it, though I suspect that seeing a man push his pregnant wife down a flight of stairs probably lent him courage. However, I thought it was a little unrealistic that any man, no matter how big and strong he is, could endure a horse-whipping from a Klansman without even grunting, let alone crying out in pain. I mean, it's an autonomic response: you can't <i>help</i> but scream when someone uses a strip of rough leather, moving at supersonic speeds, to take chunks out of your back. There's no shame in crying out, but I felt that George's stoicism made him seem a little passive, even animalistic, in his refusal (or inability?) to use his voice to cry out in pain.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Related image" src="http://www.g-pop.net/images/friedgreentomatoes3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Oh, don't mind me. Nothin' to see here."</td></tr>
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I also paid more attention to the character of Smokey Lonesome, the palsied drifter whom Idgie and Ruth take under their wing. As a younger person I felt bad for him, but I never really thought about how difficult his life in the rural South must have been, in an era before the <a href="https://www.ada.gov/cguide.htm#anchor62335">ADA</a> and physical therapy, an era where harassing beggars and cripples was an acceptable pastime for both children and adults. For a man who's been so beaten-down by life, I realized for the first time what tremendous courage and love Smokey must have had, to be willing to stand up to Frank Bennet -- a young, strong, fit man, a man whom Smokey knew to be a Klansman and a wife-beater -- and tell him that he "ain't goin' nowhere with Miss Ruth's baby." There was every possibility that Frank Bennet would have killed him just for being a witness, let alone actually trying to prevent him from leaving with his infant son.<br />
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Finally, I was once again shocked by how cavalier everyone is about the whole issue of covering up a murder (of an admittedly horrible person) with <span style="color: white;">HUMAN CANNIBALISM</span>! I understand that they didn't have a lot of options for disposing of Frank's body, but Sheriff Smoote wasn't the only person who ate those ribs! Idgie and Co. fed <span style="color: white;">a human corpse</span> <i>to their unsuspecting customers</i>! And when Ninny Threadgoode explains to Evelyn exactly how clever Ruth and Idgie tricked the mean old sheriff into <span style="color: white;">eating the evidence</span>, instead of being horrified, Evelyn <i>laughs</i>, like she's just been let in on some hilarious joke!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Actually, I take it all back. The bastard had it coming.</td></tr>
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Despite this dose of third-act <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Squick">squick</a>, <i>Fried Green Tomatoes</i> remains, in my opinion, one of the most excellent stories ever committed to film. Idgie and Ruth's passionate friendship -- which was apparently an outright lesbian romance in the book -- is one of the most sensitive and nuanced portrayals of female solidarity and love that I've ever encountered in film or print. The long, stationary shot of Ruth's last moments (juxtaposed with Idgie's poignant, tear-filled retelling of Buddy's story about The Lake That Used To Be Here) can still bring a tear to even the most jaundiced eye. So dust off your VHS collection, pop this old gem into your VCR, and give it another try: after all, who doesn't love taking a big, crunchy bite out of a freshly <a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/16760/best-fried-green-tomatoes/">fried green tomato</a>?Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-80869310824422962252018-01-13T22:06:00.000-05:002018-01-13T22:06:48.333-05:00[Movie Review] Dinner With Friends (HBO Films, 2001)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dinner with Friends</span></b></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">HBO Films, 2001</span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Director</b>: Norman Jewison</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Writers</b>: Donald Margulies (play, teleplay)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Starring</b>: Dennis Quaid, Andie MacDowell, Greg Kinnear, Toni Colette</span><br />
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When my mom cleaned out her DVD collection, I decided to take a look and see if there was anything in the "donate box" that interested me; this title was one of my finds. I had never watched it before, didn't know anything about it (though I could take a wild guess that it would involve a group of friends, and at least one dinner), so I went in essentially blind.<br />
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The establishing shot brings us to the home of professional food-writers Gabe (Dennis Quaid) and Karen (Andie MacDowell), who are in the midst of preparing dinner for their longtime friends Tom (Greg Kinnear) and Beth (Toni Collette). The doorbell rings, but it's only Beth and her kids; no Tom in sight. While the two couples' kids watch <i>Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory </i>on VHS in the next room, Beth bursts unexpectedly into tears and confesses that she and she and Tom are getting a divorce, and that he's leaving her for another woman. Gabe and Karen are stunned: they've known Tom and Beth since before their kids were born, how could they just split up like this? Karen is furious with Tom's infidelity, while Gabe takes a more hurt-and-bewildered approach, wanting to hear the husband's side of the story (which of course makes his wife even angrier that he would even consider listening to "that philanderer"). Tom, upset to learn that Beth has stolen a march on him by telling their friends about their breakup without him, hurries over to explain himself, but finds himself bewlidered by a distinct coolness, even lack of sympathy, from two of his oldest friends. Act One concludes with both couples dealing with the fallout in their own ways: one through an argument about forgiveness and hypothetical infidelity, the other through a shouting-match which unexpectedly metamorphoses into passionate hate-sex.<br />
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Next, we're taken on a flashback to twelve years previously, when Gabe and Karen first introduced Beth to Tom during a stay at their Martha's Vineyard summer home (!). The happy young couples -- one established, one new-made -- bathed in the sepia light of a summer evening, make decisions and form bonds which we (the audience) know will lead to a decade of misery, broken families, and long-term friendships dying on the vine. The result is a that everything that follows feels foreordained, like there's no way it could have been avoided or mitigated. The audience can only watch helplessly as the characters begin down roads which we know lead to profound unhappiness -- not exactly a sensation that I, personally, enjoy feeling (outside of horror stories, that is).<br />
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The story shifts forwards a few months, and we see that everything has changed; between the men, as well as between the women. Both of the new divorcées are making drastic, ill-advised changes to their lives: changes which shock and bewilder their longtime friends, making them question whether they even want to remain friends with people who suddenly seem like strangers, and forcing them to reevaluate whether their own marriage is really any stronger than the one that's just fallen apart before their very eyes.<br />
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Margulies's dialogue is realistic, with plenty of interruptions, repetitions, and idiosyncratic turns of phrase, yet dense and multilayered in that peculiar way that only stage-plays can be. While I appreciate how difficult it is to write dialogue that reveals character and moves the plot forward while still sounding natural and unrehearsed, I found that it was a little exhausting to listen to after a while. When every sentence is jam-packed with meaning, I found myself subconsciously trying to interpret and analyze as I watched, and as a result I often felt a little behind-the-curve, struggling to keep up with the oncoming barrage of dialogue and plot-points.<br />
<br />
Despite feeling badly for the characters and their emotional/marital situations, I found that their obscene levels of wealth to be distracting, and a bit of a turn-off. Sure, it sucks that you're getting a divorce, but maybe, I don't know, your <i>enormous piles of cash</i> will make that a little easier to bear. Both couples live in enormous, multi-story houses in East Coast suburbia, with three-car garages and tasteful interior décor and marble counter-tops strewn with cooking magazines and fresh ingredients brought back from their most recent trip to Italy. I realize that this movie came out just before the dot-com bubble burst, that standards of wealth were a lot higher back then, but for me it felt like their characters' luxurious lifestyle was a barrier to empathy (which is sort of odd for me, because I never felt that way while watching <i>Downton Abbey</i> or reading <i>The Great Gatsby</i>).<br />
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Call it sour grapes if you like, I just couldn't get over feeling like these people were finally getting a dose of the reality that their money and prestigious occupations had insulated them against for so long. Add to that the story's depressing, futility-laced subject-matter and the fact that I just never believed Toni Collette's dry-eyed forced sobs, and you've got a recipe for a dinner which is passable the first time around, but one where I definitely won't be going back for a second helping.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-65851253348461299262018-01-07T11:25:00.000-05:002018-01-07T11:25:25.944-05:00[Book Review] Covenant with the Vampire<div style="text-align: left;">
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<b><i>Covenant with the Vampire</i>, by Jeanne Kalogridis</b></div>
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<b>(<i>The Diaries of the Family Dracul</i>, Book One)</b></div>
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<b>© 1994 Dell Horror</b></div>
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It's been a long time since I read Bram Stoker's <i>Dracula</i>, but this prequel, set fifty years before the events of that tale, brought back to me with vivid clarity <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2009/03/16/in-the-blood">the creeping dread and shocking horror of the Dracula mythos</a>. Part of Dracula's allure is his ambiguity, his inability to be defined, the impossibility of pinning down exactly who -- or even what -- he is. <i>Is </i>the vampiric antagonist of Bram Stoker's 1897 Gothic horror novel truly the same person as the historical Vlad Tepesh, Vlad the Impaler, or is he just some random undead who's putting on airs? Is he even just a vampire, or does the hair on his palms and his ability to turn into a monstrous wolf make him <i>also a werewolf</i>?</div>
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I was a little afraid, at first, that revealing the "origins" of Count Dracula might dampen his mystique. <b>Monsters frighten us because they represent unknown quantities</b>; once you label and categorize them, once you assign them a backstory and a clearly delineated set of powers, they go from terrifying existential horror to <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MonsterOfTheWeek">monster of the week</a>. Fortunately, revealing some (but not all) of Dracula's origins and motivations does nothing to diminish his power to terrify audiences, at least in this instance.<br />
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I was impressed and pleased to discover that <i>Covenant with the Vampire</i> is written, like the original <i>Dracula</i>, as an <b>epistolary novel </b>(or "novel made of letters"), with each chapter taking the form of a diary entry from one of the main characters. This use of multiple viewpoints and voices lends the novel texture, plus credibility as each character's account of events corroborates or expands upon that of the others. It also sets us up for a lot of <b>dramatic irony</b>: being privy to the inner thoughts of each of the main characters, we (the readers) inevitably know more than any one character is ever aware of, which means that we can only watch in mute horror as characters take actions and make decisions which we, knowing better than they, wish desperately to warn them against. The diary-entry format also gives us a sense of <b>immediacy and urgency</b>, as the characters explain to us where and when they are recording their thoughts: on sleepless candlelit nights, on scraps of paper stolen between visits from a nosy sister-in-law, on sunny mornings that make it difficult to trust one's own memories of the night before.<br />
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The story begins on "5 April, 1845" as <b>Arkady Tsepesh</b>, last male scion of the family Tsepesh (descendants of the infamous Vlad the Impaler), returns with his heavily-pregnant English wife, <b>Mary Windham Tsepesh</b>, to his ancestral home, Castle Dracula, following news from his deformed elder sister <b>Zsuzsanna Tsepesh </b>that their father has fallen gravely ill. Arkady and Mary arrive mere hours after his father's passing, and it is during the vigil for the deceased that we catch our first glimpse of <b>Great-Uncle Vlad</b>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://orig00.deviantart.net/841b/f/2012/282/7/5/count_dracula_by_squiffel-d5hbzb5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://orig00.deviantart.net/841b/f/2012/282/7/5/count_dracula_by_squiffel-d5hbzb5.jpg" width="294" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As you've probably guessed already, "Great-Uncle" Vlad is really more <br />
of a great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-uncle.</td></tr>
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Over the course of a mere two weeks in the Transylvanian mountains, Ms. Kalogridis ever-so-slowly peels back the façade of normalcy, revealing a world of incest, torture, mass-murder, and of deals with devils both figurative and literal. As Arkady learns more and more of Great-Uncle Vlad's peculiar behaviors and future goals (e.g., moving to England with its "teeming millions"), and Mary begins to listen with increasing credulity to the whispers of the servants, and Zsuzsanna begins to attract -- and even to <i>invite </i>-- the sexual attentions of her wicked uncle, the net which entraps our characters within Castle Dracula and its estate grows ever-tighter. Mary's complicated pregnancy (to say nothing of the castle's extreme isolation and Vlad's increasingly controlling nature) prevents them from leaving freely, and so husband and wife are forced to bide their time and pay homage to a monster in their midst, a wolf in <i>boyar</i>'s clothing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://orig00.deviantart.net/7963/f/2015/259/e/4/count_dracula_by_deimos_remus-d99twnz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="388" height="400" src="https://orig00.deviantart.net/7963/f/2015/259/e/4/count_dracula_by_deimos_remus-d99twnz.jpg" width="193" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You look different, Uncle Vlad: have you done something with your heir?"</td></tr>
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As Vlad begins to feed with greater regularity, he transforms from a decrepit relic into a terrifying patriarch; likewise, Castle Dracula itself transforms from Arkady's beloved-though-gloomy childhood home to a macabre prison, filled with and surrounded by secrets and death. As Vlad begins to seduce his many-times-removed grand-niece, we are given a firsthand account of what it actually feels like to become <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strigoi">strigoi</a></i>, in all the sensual and incestuous details -- though on a technical note, does it still count as incest if she's eleven generations removed from you? (Actually, don't answer that.)<br />
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As Arkady explores the estate and its grounds in pursuit of fleeting glimpses of his long-dead brother Stefan, he makes a grisly discovery in the woods beside Castle Dracula which results in what the old <i><a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/TabletopGame/Ravenloft">Ravenloft</a></i> setting would call "a malign paradigm-shift", in which everything he knew, or thought he knew, about his uncle, his family, and the very nature of reality itself comes crashing down around his head. I can't tell you any more without giving too much away, but suffice it to say that if you're a fan of the creepy, the macabre, and the outright horrifying, <i>Covenant with the Vampire</i> will amply satisfy your disgusting predilections (you nasty little pervert, you).<br />
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As readers, our foreknowledge of what ultimately happens in Bram Stoker's <i>Dracula </i>-- that any attempts to kill Dracula are doomed to failure, that he must produce at least three "brides" and turn poor, mad Renfield into his creature, that at some point his mortal servants must abandon him and his castle to fall to ruins -- has the effect of producing great dramatic tension. We know that these things <i>must</i> occur in order for Stoker's narrative to make sense, but knowing that the blows must come but not knowing how or when they will fall, or in which order, may be the cruelest torture of all. </div>
Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-48306139959012489772018-01-01T22:05:00.001-05:002018-01-23T09:39:48.388-05:00Stranger Things, Season 1 (Netflix, 2016)<div>
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Yes, I realize that I'm a little behind-the-times reviewing this one (okay, a <i>lot</i> behind-the-times). In fact, that kind of shock at my total lack of pop-culture knowledge is kind of the reason I watched <i>Stranger Things</i> in the first place. When my brother-in-law realized that my wife (his sister) and I had never seen the show, he immediately went out and bought it for us on DVD as his Christmas present to us. We decided to start watching it on New Year's Eve, but we planned to space out our viewings, only watching one or two episodes a day. You know, in order to really soak it up instead of just bingeing and being done with the whole thing in a day or two.<br />
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Turns out, even the idea of stretching it out to two days was some serious pie-in-the-sky thinking. We could barely wait long enough to go to the bathroom between episodes, and waiting to switch in the next disc felt like long-term deprivation. The series grabs you by the balls right from scene one and never lets go, not for a single moment. The whole first season feels like one long balls-to-the-wall thrill-ride (in a good way) interspersed with moments of heart-pounding, tingly-palmed dread (again, in a good way), with an occasional dose of comedy to lighten the sometimes-oppressive mood. </div>
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I won't bother giving you a blow-by-blow of the first episode -- that's easy enough for find online, though I would caution against digging too deeply for fear of spoilers. Instead, I'd rather talk about the show's overall structure, and the various media from which it draws inspiration.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Not pictured: parental supervision.</i></td></tr>
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<i>Stranger Things</i> begins on the night of November 6, 1983, with the mysterious disappearance of one twelve-year-old boy, and chronicles the fallout from this and other paranormal goings-on in the fictional town of Hawkins, Indiana. The cast is divided into three largely-distinct groups (tweens, teens, and adults) who discover/encounter disparate facets of the strange events occurring in their town, but -- like the blind men and the elephant -- none ever have the whole picture (at least, not at first). The result of this splitting-up is to create a narrative which sometimes feels like three separate shows which share a setting and thematic elements, which cross into each others' realms with increasing frequency as the various investigators begin to share information and fit their pieces together. Imagine that <i>Buffy</i> and <i>Angel </i>had been spliced together into a single show and you wouldn't be far from the mark.</div>
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Tonally, <i>Stranger Things</i> feels like a mashup of <i>Freaks and Geeks</i> and <i>The Goonies</i> (if they'd both been written by Stephen King, that is), plus a little bit of <i>E.T.</i>, John Carpenter's <i>The Thing</i>, pacing and visual elements from <i>Halloween</i> and <i>Nightmare on Elm Street</i>, and maybe just a dash of... I don't know, <i>Akira</i>? Maybe some <i>Parasyte</i>? A bit of <i>Alien</i> and <i>Close Encounters of the Third Kind</i>? Maybe I'm getting too deep in the weeds here, trying to pin down everything the Duffer Brothers referenced. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Seven_Basic_Plots">There are no new stories</a>, after all, and it's completely natural for elements of an author's best beloved stories to show up in an author's work. Besides, nostalgic shout-outs must always take a backseat to story and character development.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You might not be afraid of Christmas lights yet, but you will be.<br />
<i>You will be.</i></td></tr>
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First and foremost, <b><i>Stranger Things</i> is a scary story</b>, of the type that humans have told around campfires since time immemorial in order to scare the bejeezus out of each other. Throughout the constant twisting and turning of the plot, the falsehoods exposed, the hidden pasts uncovered and dark truths revealed, <i>Stranger Things</i> keeps returning to the time-tested standbys of classic horror: the atmosphere of foreboding, the darkly-hinted clues of a sinister presence, nigh-unbearable escalation of tension, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqGsT6VM8Vg">the masterfully-executed jumpscare</a>, and of course, the horrifying reveal. I can't tell you much about what's actually horrifying here, because <i>not knowing</i> is what makes it so damn scary. Much of the supernatural elements of <i>Stranger Things </i>are never explained in full, and the viewer is left to extrapolate and wonder, to think about and to worry, as you turn out the lights and pull the covers up to your chin:<br />
<i><br />What the hell was it that I just saw? </i><br />
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<i>Is it </i>really<i> gone, or was it just pretending?</i><br />
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<i>And could it come back?</i><br />
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Pleasant dreams, readers. I'll let you know how Season 2 turns out.</div>
Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-32827669198175510132017-09-30T12:19:00.000-04:002017-10-03T10:03:10.328-04:00[Book Review] The Casual Vacancy<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b><i>The Casual Vacancy</i>, by J.K. Rowling</b></div>
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<b>© 2012 </b><b>Little, Brown Book Group</b></div>
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I realize I'm a few years late with this review, but for a long time I wasn't sure I'd ever read this book. My wife read it when it came out, and she told me the story was so dark and tragic that it'd probably just depress me. I gave her permission to tell me how it ended, and when she told me, I decided that it did sound a lot darker than Ms. Rowling's previous works. But after becoming familiar with Rowling's Cormoran Strike mystery novels, I figured that whatever was in <i>The Casual Vacancy</i> couldn't be any darker than <i>Career of Evil</i>, so I decided to give <i>Vacancy</i> a try.<br />
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A lot of readers were surprised and dismayed to discover how grim and pessimistic this book is, despite the fact that Rowling <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/booknews/9571827/JK-Rowling-is-she-the-guardian-of-our-childrens-minds.html">repeatedly</a> <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-19721239">stated</a> that this would emphatically <i>not </i>be a novel for children. <i>Vacancy</i> is an unflattering portrait of humanity at best, and a disturbing tour of human misery at its darkest (it's never lurid, though -- Rowling simply reports on her characters actions without judgment, for the most part).<br />
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The novel tells the story of a fictional <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/UsefulNotes/TheWestCountry">West Country</a> village named Pagford, which is a satellite of Yarvil, a nearby urban center. The two municipalities are separated by a country estate, a previous owner of which sold some land to Yarvil, which they developed into a housing project called "The Fields". This greatly upset the citizenry of Pagford, since the land on which the Fields were built was part of Pagford Parish, meaning that Pagfordians were on the hook financially for the crime-ridden, ugly, and squalid Fields and the families (including many drug-users and welfare-recipients) who live in its squat, ugly cinderblock houses.<br />
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<i>Vacancy</i> opens sixty years after these events, with the sudden death by aneurysm of Pagford Parish Councillor Barry Fairbrother, leader of the small-but-vocal faction of the parish council who are in favor of keeping the Fields as part of Pagford Parish. Having been born in The Fields and bootstrapped himself into a position of respect and power within Pagford, Barry was a living example of the narrative which he hoped to make reality for others from The Fields. Unfortunately, his death leaves an empty seat on the Parish Council, which the anti-Fields faction hopes to fill with one of their own.<br />
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The novel's main arc tells the story of the election which is held to fill Barry's empty seat, but it also zooms in on the petty rivalries, domestic unhappiness, infighting, and class-warfare which plague the picturesque Pagford. I won't attempt to explain all the characters and their relationships herein; that task would be better-suited to a <a href="https://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/the-casual-vacancy/images/0/01/Casual-vacancy-family-tree.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20121025220755">spoileriffic character-map like this one</a>. All you need to know going into it is not to worry if you can't keep all the families straight in your head; by the start of Part 2, you'll pretty much know who everyone is and who they're related to.<br />
<br />
I was impressed at how scrupulously Rowling avoided making even the most sympathetic characters into paragons of virtue. It would have been easy for the author to (for instance) cast Dr Parminder Jawanda, the discriminated-against Sikh physician, as a poor unfortunate who is unfairly judged by the backwards inhabitants of Pagford -- but Rowling resists such temptation. Parminder is relentlessly critical of her youngest child Sukhvinder, a fact which (combined with her poor academics, obesity, and the relentless teasing she endures at school) drives the poor girl to self-harm, unbeknownst to Parminder.<br />
<br />
For that matter, the children of Pagford are hardly paragons of youthful innocence. In fact, you could argue that most (or even all) of the truly tragic stuff that befalls Pagford during and in the wake of the election is their fault). Once one kid gets it into his head to post damaging information about his father on the village council forums under the username <span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The_Ghost_of_Barry_Fairbrother</span>, before you know it, practically <i>all</i> the kids are doing it to sabotage their own parents' chances of winning, with predictably damaging results for everyone in Pagford <i>and </i>the Fields.<br />
<br />
I was particularly struck by two things in this novel: the shocking pettiness and cruelty of almost everyone from every social station, age bracket, and walk of life; and almost total lack of honest communication in any given interpersonal relationship. On the one hand, this seems fairly realistic to me, even if it doesn't paint a very flattering picture of humanity and left a bad taste in my mouth. On the other hand, it made me very, <i>very </i>glad that I escaped from high school with a shred of my human decency intact.<br />
<br />
Overall, <i>The Casual Vacancy</i> is not an easy read, and will likely leave you feeling drained and discouraged about humanity in general. But it's also a novel which taps into the primal tribalism which continues to stifle progress and meaningful debate on both sides of the Atlantic, and as such, is a novel which I strongly recommend to pretty much everyone who has strong opinions, one way or another, on the subjects of drugs, poverty, the welfare state, and man's responsibility (or lack thereof) towards his fellow man.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-77678186056849902502017-09-20T12:16:00.000-04:002017-09-20T12:16:40.573-04:00On MeditationEarlier today my meditation app, <a href="https://www.headspace.com/">Headspace</a>, asked me a simple question: <i>"Does meditation feel like part of your life or something separate?"</i><br />
<br />
The answer, of course, is complicated. Isn't everything, though?<br />
<br />
On the one hand, I feel like meditation is a part of my daily life in many ways, and no longer entirely separate from it. The techniques I've learned in the last year-or-so of meditation (noting, breathing exercises, mindfulness, etc.) have had a big impact on my daily routine. I feel like I get less caught up in thought-spirals, and it's easier for me to "surface" from engaging tasks because I've had some practice at letting go of whatever I'm doing or thinking at the moment and coming back to the breath.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, I feel like my morning meditation, when I can fit it in before work, is a welcome break from my everyday life. I spend so much of my time jumping from task to task that ten to twenty minutes of quiet time spent sitting on the balcony with my eyes closed is a nice change of pace. It's a moment where I quietly ask myself to remember that things are pretty good: I woke up on the right side of the sod, as they say.<br />
<br />
There was a time when a question like the one above would have caused me consternation. I would have become obsessed with parsing out an answer, with analyzing whether a thing can be both separate from and part of something else. But now, I just look at the question and smile at it. <i>"Huh,"</i> I say to myself. <i>"That's a very interesting paradox."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And then I let go of the question, and come back to the breath.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-20310104585279250612016-08-14T21:52:00.005-04:002016-08-14T21:52:39.615-04:00Thoughts on Thrift StoresIn a way, thrift stores and secondhand shops are like museums of our collective failure to measure up against our own hopes and dreams; or of our failure to accurately predict what our hopes and dreams would be in the future. They collect the detritus of things we wanted, or <i>thought </i>we wanted, or others <i>assumed </i>we wanted: cheese knives and exercise equipment, ships in bottles and books on personal finance, cookbooks full of recipes ranging from faddish diets to diabetes-inducing confectionery. Tupperware sorted by color and shape, hand-painted porcelain Hummel figurines and row upon row upon row upon row of wine glasses. Aunt Mildred's fine china that we could never be bothered to wash by hand one the one night a year we would actually use it; good china that never got used at all; ugly, mismatched porcelain bowls we always hated but we were in college and poor and they worked alright so we couldn't just throw them away and buy new ones until after we graduated and could finally chuck the hideous things. Racks upon racks of t-shirts commemorating everything from the track teams of unfamiliar universities to cancer-walks. Jeans that we will never, <i>ever </i>fit into again no matter how hard we diet. Small forests of garish silk neckties, patterned to complement suit jackets which haven't been fashionable for twenty years. Eighty prints of the same T-shirt, donated by the local silkscreen shop due to a small-but-vital miscommunication with the client about what the shirts should actually say. Three dozen copies of a local rapper's debut album, each with liner notes hand-packed by his friends and family.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0Salvation Army Family Store & Donation Center42.5361389 -83.480196642.442454899999994 -83.6415581 42.6298229 -83.3188351tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-27616030871238732972016-05-06T09:51:00.002-04:002018-01-08T11:26:51.340-05:00[Book Review] A Wizard of Earthsea (Ursula K. LeGuin, 1968)<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="AWizardOfEarthsea(1stEd).jpg" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/5/59/AWizardOfEarthsea%281stEd%29.jpg/220px-AWizardOfEarthsea%281stEd%29.jpg" /></div>
<br />
The first thing I did upon waking this morning was pick up my recently-purchased copy of Ursula K. Le Guin's <i>A Wizard of Earthsea</i> and eagerly consume the remainder of the book, which I had read last night until I could no longer keep my eyes open.<br />
<br />
I was in sixth grade when I first encountered this book in the school library. I changed school districts just after finishing the book, and the new school didn't have the other books in the series, so it gradually fell by the wayside and was forgotten. Until recently, when I saw a copy at the <a href="http://www.dawntreaderbooks.com/">Dawn Treader</a> and remembered really enjoying it the first time around. I'm really glad I bought it when I had the chance, because this book has reminded me of why I fell in love with fantasy in the first place, and its stunning power to enrich our lives with fresh perspective.<br />
<br />
I think I may have been too young to really appreciate this book the first time around, because there's a lot going on here that I didn't notice the first time around. I must have completely failed to realize that Ged (a.k.a. Sparrowhawk, the main character) is not a white guy like virtually all fantasy protagonists (his skin tone is described as "red-brown"). I also failed to realize what a big deal that is, especially for a book published in 1968, when (as <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/culturebox/2004/12/a_whitewashed_earthsea.html">Le Guin herself said it</a>) "everybody in science fiction had to be a honky named Bob or Joe or Bill."<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Sparrowhawk by FreShPAiNt" src="http://pre08.deviantart.net/b576/th/pre/i/2014/086/1/8/sparrowhawk_by_freshpaint-d7bwa6p.jpg" height="320" width="280" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://freshpaint.deviantart.com/art/Sparrowhawk-443245201"><i>Sparrowhawk</i></a>, by <a href="http://freshpaint.deviantart.com/">FreShPAiNt</a></div>
<br />
I also feel like I'm finally old enough to really understand and absorb the lessons which the book teaches about patience, self-knowledge, and the responsibility which comes with great power (I just wish I had taken these lessons more to heart as a young man, rather than insisting on learning them for myself, the hard way). As the Archmage says to Ged after the young man's pride and hubris have left him gravely injured and loosed a terrible evil upon the world:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>You thought, as a boy, that a mage is one who can do anything. So I thought, once. So did we all. And the truth is that as a man's real power grows and his knowledge widens, ever the way he can follow grows narrower: until at last he chooses nothing, but does only and wholly what he </i>must <i>do....</i></blockquote>
I was also captivated by the lovingly-rendered descriptions of sea and surf and sky, of windswept moors and mist-hidden isles, narrow flotsam-choked inlets, great calm bays, and the endless, heaving waterscape of the Open Sea. Le Guin has an anthropologist's eye for culture and and a naturalist's eye for setting, and it makes me appreciate my own landscape (and the lake right behind my new house) all the more fully.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-20287689600411104202016-03-01T09:52:00.000-05:002018-03-10T09:48:32.997-05:00Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell<div style="text-align: center;">
<img src="http://media.bloomsbury.com/rep/bj/9781408856888.jpg" height="400" width="259" /></div>
<br />
<b><i><a href="http://www.jonathanstrange.com/">Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell</a></i>, by Susanna Clarke (Bloomsbury, 2005)</b><br />
<br />
<br />
It's not often that I wish a thousand-page novel could have been even longer. Rarer still is when I finish such a novel and immediately turn back to page one so I can start it over again. But that is exactly what I did with Susanna Clarke's masterful, eloquent, and exquisitely-constructed novel. By turns humorous and eerie, quotidian and otherworldly, <i>Strange </i>is already high on my list of all-time favorite books.<br />
<br />
While no summary could really do justice to a novel of this size and complexity, here's a rundown: Magic has been dead in England for close to three centuries -- ever since the mysterious <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRjbWLWoPh8">Raven King</a> rode out of England and into Faerie -- until the secretive and reclusive Mr Gilbert Norrell resurrects the craft and becomes a celebrity overnight. Soon, one Jonathan Strange appears on the scene: a young gentleman with an intuitive gift for magic. Handsome, gregarious, and bold, Strange is everything Norrell is not. Together, they form an unlikely master-apprentice duo, and pool their considerable magical resources to aid England in its war against the dreaded Emperor Napoleon. But the friendship men so different as these cannot last forever: Norrell hoards information like a miser hoards gold, and Strange is drawn ever more strongly towards the mad, wild sorcery of the Raven King, widening the rift between teacher and pupil.<br />
<br />
It's hard to know where to begin reviewing a work of this magnitude, but I suppose the most logical place to begin is the book's language, which is a pastiche of Georgian literary English (imagine a blend of Jane Austen and Mary Shelley, with a perhaps a splash of Charles Dickens). That might sound like it would be impenetrable, but the modern reader will have no difficulty there. As a matter of fact, it's much easier to read and understand than even Jane Austen, whose language was (in my opinion) uncommonly straightforward for her era. The peculiar spelling of some words ("chuse" instead of "choose," for instance) only adds to the impression that we are reading an actual document of the period, being written by someone who speaks the same language as the characters depicted.<br />
<strike><br /></strike>
Clarke makes use of numerous and often lengthy footnotes to give the novel a tone of mock-scholarship, by explaining the characters' references to historical events and magical theory without having them awkwardly explain things to each other for the reader's benefit. <a href="http://www.bookslut.com/features/2005_09_006537.php">Apparently</a> she initially considered making this an epistolary novel, and although she scrapped that plan, the footnotes became the perfect way for her to explore the medieval history of her world without compromising its narrative flow.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell 6" src="http://amazon.clikpic.com/portia/images/Jonathan_Strange_and_Mr_Norrell_6.jpg" height="400" width="269" /></div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.portiarosenberg.com/gallery_166282.html#!">Portia Rosenberg's ghostly-grey illustrations</a> lend the novel an atmosphere of gloomy magnificence. They bleed away from the gray illustration to a smoky nothingness, lacking a clear boundary, giving the impression that there is much more to this world which we only glimpse through a glass darkly.<br />
<br />
Clarke does an excellent job of giving historical context to those who may not be great students of history, but as an American I found that there were many references to real historical events which I had heard of but, not knowing how they ultimately turned out, I was left unsure whether anything had been altered by the magicians' presence.<br />
<br />
Oddly, it seems that even the presence of spectacular magic would change very little about the course of history. Even with two magicians and their scrying-dishes working full time on the war effort, Napoleon is continually outsmarting Britain's generals. It seems to me that, even if the gentleman's code of conduct prevents them from actually killing anyone, it should have been possible for them to cause some great personal tragedy to befall him, such as gout or an attack of hayfever.<br />
<br />
But all of this is just nitpicking. Perhaps by making her alternate, magical history so similar to our own, Clarke is trying to show us that history has a vast momentum of its own, and that the presence of one or two men (even magicians) is not enough to entirely alter the course of history. Or maybe she's saying that our own history is just as magical and strange as this simulacrum she's created? Either way, Clarke's attention to historical detail is astonishing. Her inclusion of actual historical personages (such as King George III, Lord Byron, and Lord Wellington) shows a keen eye for historical psychology, and makes these normally distant, almost godlike figures, into real breathing humans, with whom we might take tea and conversation on a winter's day in northern England.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell 10" src="http://amazon.clikpic.com/portia/images/Jonathan_Strange_and_Mr_Norrell_10.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></div>
<br />
And speaking of the North: Clarke's love for northern England, in all its gloomy majesty, pervades every page of this book. Most Britons (especially northerners) love to joke/complain about how terrible and gloomy their weather is, but Clarke paints a loving portrait of windswept moors and grey winter hills, of darkling forests and white winter skies filled with cawing ravens.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>The brown fields were partly flooded; they were strung with chains of chill, grey pools. The pattern of the pools had meaning. The pools had been written on to the fields by the rain. The pools were a magic worked by the rain, just as the tumbling of the black birds against the grey was a spell that the sky was working and the motion of grey-brown grasses was a spell that the wind made. Everything had meaning.</i></blockquote>
<br />
These are not the kind of images you would ever find in a travel brochure, but I find that they strike a chord deep within me: being from Michigan, her descriptions of wet, muddy earth and puddles reflecting pale grey skies has given me a new appreciation for the natural beauty of the place I live. I've noticed that after reading this book, I spend a lot more time looking at the sky and the landscape around me, and I just can't shake the feeling that, well... I'll just let Miss Clarke tell you in her own words:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="font-family: inherit;">This land is all too shallow</i></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">It is painted on the sky</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
<i><div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="font-family: inherit;">And trembles like the wind-swept rain</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i style="font-family: inherit;">When the Raven King goes by.</i></div>
</i></span></blockquote>
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Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-13250299855258858692016-01-22T08:00:00.000-05:002016-03-17T13:06:58.244-04:00A Grammatical Grimoire[<b>Warning</b>: I'm about to get all English-major up in here, so if you couldn't care less about grammar and punctuation, I suggest you get out now.]<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
It's always bothered me that "proper" style in English, according to unassailable sources such as the Purdue OWL and Strunk & White's <i>The Elements of Style</i>, is to place commas inside of quotation-marks, even when a comma was not present in the quoted text.<br />
<br />
Using Hamlet's famous utterance as an example, here are a few "wrong" ways to quote a sentence...<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><b>"Alas, poor Yorick<span style="color: red;">!</span><span style="color: #38761d;">"</span> </b><b>exclaimed Prince Hamlet.</b></li>
<li><b>"Alas, poor Yorick<span style="color: #38761d;">"</span><span style="color: red;">,</span> </b><b>exclaimed Prince Hamlet.</b></li>
<li><b>"Alas, poor Yorick<span style="color: #38761d;">"</span> exclaimed Prince Hamlet.</b> </li>
</ul>
<br />
...and the "right" way:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><b>"Alas, poor Yorick<span style="color: red;">,</span><span style="color: #38761d;">"</span> <b>exclaimed Prince Hamlet</b>.</b> </li>
</ul>
<br />
Note that the original sentence (<i>"Alas, poor Yorick!"</i>) ends with an exclamation-point, not a comma. The sentence must be altered in order to make it fit with accepted citation style, and I've always taken exception to this rule.<br />
<br />
It strikes me as strange, perhaps even a little dishonest, that style requires us to add punctuation where none existed in the original text. Granted, it's not a serious alteration to change a period or an exclamation-point to a comma, but it <i>is </i>a change nonetheless.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img src="http://www.chicagonow.com/moms-who-drink-and-swear/files/2014/01/b94898abf8e0ca1a2a34188b1b3364d0ae905edc5a1497fac778450cdd9f1b78-e1389206373135.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #666666;">OK, Fry, you have a point. But hear me out!</span></i></div>
<br />
Quotation marks are supposed to signify a <i>direct </i>quotation, to tell the reader that the text quoted therein appears <i>exactly</i> as it appeared in the original source: word-for-word, letter-for letter, and character-for-character. Normally, even capitalization cannot be changed without making it clear that something in the text has been altered from its original form. For instance:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><b>"[P]oor Yorick," as Hamlet calls him, was his late father's court-jester.</b></li>
</ul>
<br />
If we're not even supposed to change the capitalization of a single letter in any text we quote, then how can we justify changing where and whether the sentence appears to end? Not every sentence needs to be quoted from start to finish, but for people who are so anal-retentive about correctness and uniformity, it's very strange that English teachers are not just allowing, but <i>commanding</i> us to misquote our sources.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-19472724187507342732016-01-20T09:35:00.000-05:002016-01-20T15:00:37.616-05:00PROMETHEA, Volume 1<div style="text-align: center;">
<img src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/1/18/Promethea.jpg" /></div>
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>PROMETHEA, VOLUME 1 (issues 1-6)</i></b><br />
<b>Writer: Alan Moore</b><br />
<b>Artists: J.H. Williams III, Mick Gray, Charles Vess</b><br />
<br />
Imagine a living story, penned and refined repeatedly and made flesh over the centuries by a long string of mortal "vessels," armed with the cleverness of Hermes and the wisdom of Thoth, and a bitchin' energy-<a href="http://www.crystalinks.com/caduceus.html">caduceus</a> for good measure: you now have a pretty accurate portrait of Promethea, the titular heroine of this extra-weird title from Alan Moore.<br />
<br />
I'll admit that I was a little afraid (and reasonably so, I think) that Promethea was going to be little more than pseudo-mythological cheesecake. But somehow, despite having a male writer, a male artist, and wearing a bronze mid-thigh skirt and shoulder-baring <i>bustier</i>, Promethea feels like a legitimate icon of Mystical Femenine Strength. As <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wonder_Woman">Princess Diana of Themyscira</a> has proven time and time again, a woman's taste in clothing is irrelevant to her ability to bust heads and kick asses, and I'm sorry I initially judged this particular book by its cover.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999;"><img height="400" src="http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/marvel_dc/images/9/9c/Promethea_Vol_1_1A.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20090609123533" width="261" /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #999999;">...though this alternate cover by Alex Ross IS pretty awesome-looking.</span></i></div>
<i><br /></i>
The story begins in Alexandria, Egypt, in 411 A.D. An old magician senses that a mob of religious extremists is coming to murder him. He tells his young daughter Promethea to flee into the desert, promising that "all my love and all my gods shall be about thee as a mantle." He then confronts the mob, and proceeds to use the Jedi Mind Trick <i>to compel the mob to kill him</i>. (lolwhut?) Who is this man, and why does he use his magic to seal his own doom? These questions remain tantalizingly unanswered during the first volume, but they do a great job of setting the tone for the rest of the tale. Right from the get-go, the author establishes that he is not going to spoon-feed us all of the answers; we're going to need to work for it.<br />
<br />
Next, the narrative jumps ahead by about 1,600 years to New York city, just before the turn of the millennium. Sophie Bangs is a college student writing a term paper on Promethea, a character who seems to reappear in folklore and literature over the centuries, sometimes flowing from the pens of authors who could not possibly have been familiar with her previous incarnations. As is often the case with college students who investigate the supernatural, Sophie is soon swept up in a strange new world: one of ancient conspiracies, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_demons_in_the_Ars_Goetia">Goetic demons</a>, Hermetic sorcery, Greco-Egyptian mysticism, living stories, a parallel universe composed of human thought and imagination, and at least one tearful, catchphrase-spouting gorilla.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<img src="http://40.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lopbzvCNLL1r01k1so1_500.png" height="360" width="400" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #666666;">Strangely, this panel makes perfect sense when read in context.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
Not only does PROMETHEA, VOLUME 1 pass the <a href="http://bechdeltest.com/">Bechdel Test</a> with flying colors, I'm pretty sure it actually <i>fails </i>the Reverse Bechdel Test: there's more than one male character in this book, but all of their conversations are solely about Promethea/Sophie and her various female helpers.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Moore can get metaphysical at times, even mystical, but it never feels like he's preaching; we're free to ignore this strange new worldview, or incorporate it into our paradigm, as we see fit. For instance: at one point, a previous incarnation of Prometha takes our heroine aside to show her the different layers/levels of reality, progressing from solid matter to emotions to thought and reason to the soul and beyond. In the hands of a less-talented author, this kind of unabashed philosophizing would come off as preachy (or worse, goofy New Age mumbo-jumbo). But under Moore's skilled direction, it gains real literary heft. It doesn't feel like he's talking to the reader, we're just watching one incarnation of Promethea speaking with another, free from proselytizing on the author's part.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="245" src="http://oglobo.globo.com/blogs/arquivos_upload/2008/01/55_272-promethea.jpg" width="320" /></div>
<br />
One of my favorite parts of PROMETHEA was the highly unorthodox layouts of the panels; I was particularly fond of the two-page spread in issue six which played out across the "panes" of the wings of a Mayan butterfly god. They're not space-efficient, but they make the reader constantly aware of the graphic nature of the tale, and they emphasize how Sophie's worldview is changing in dramatic and unexpected ways. And it's kind of cool that the artist is confident enough that he feels he doesn't need to use every square inch of space to tell the story, that he's willing to "take his time," so to speak.<br />
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Overall, PROMETHEA is a fascinating read for anyone with interest in literature, magic, and all things mystical. 18th-century poetry, trench-lore of WWI, pulp magazines of the 1920s, even "<a href="http://www.comicstriplibrary.org/display/489">Little Nemo in Slumberland</a>" all contribute to Promethea's constituent body of modern folklore; there's something here for everyone to enjoy. And of course, it's absolutely delicious to read. Most writers would struggle to meld such wildly different genres and formats into one narrative, but under Moore's guidance it seems only natural that these seemingly-disparate threads of story would be woven together into a cohesive whole.<br />
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This tale is deliciously weird, and I can't wait to find out where it goes next. Stay tuned for more info, Dear Reader; all my love and all my gods be as a mantle about thee.<br />
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<i>You go, girl!</i></div>
Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4272012254256562378.post-64182926985811528452015-10-01T23:11:00.000-04:002015-10-01T23:41:47.475-04:00[Video Game Review] Journey<div style="text-align: center;">
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<i><b><a href="http://thatgamecompany.com/games/journey/">Journey</a></b></i>, © 2012 Thatgamecompany<br />
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This game <i>almost </i>makes me wish I smoked, because I think I need a cigarette after playing it.<br />
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The best word I can think of to describe <i>Journey</i> is "exquisite": in terms of design, visuals, music, playability, length, fun factor, and overall gestalt. I haven't really been part of the video gaming scene since I finished college, but this might be the most beautiful game I've ever played (and I mean that in more than just a graphical sense).<br />
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Indeed, I would go as far as to say that <i>Journey </i>has truly spiritual dimensions. It feels like an interactive parable from one of the world's great religions, one about the human soul, life and death, friendship, and the rewards which flow from striving towards something greater than oneself, even at great personal cost. This game has a lot of depth for something you can finish in under three hours.<br />
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As a matter of fact, I'm not sure that I can even really say that <i>Journey </i>is a game at all, at least in the traditional sense. It's impossible to take damage (the worst that can happen is losing a bit of your "scarf"; the longer it gets, the farther you can jump), there's no time limit, and the "puzzles" are very simplistic. There is no loss condition, and basically nothing to do except move forward. Despite this, there were moments, deep in the bowels of some ancient ruin, being pursued by unstoppable, flying serpent-guardians made of stone, where I was truly afraid, despite knowing <i>for a fact</i> that there was nothing they could do to hurt or kill me, even in-game.<br />
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Thatgamecompany is renowned for not simply releasing action-oriented titles, but interactive works of art, which are specifically designed to provoke emotional responses in players. I would say that <i>Journey </i>achieves this goal in spectacular fashion.<br />
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<i>You'll grow far more attached to this nameless, faceless avatar than you would expect.</i></div>
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The game opens on a vast and endless desert, with the player's non-gendered avatar sitting in the sand. It stands, and after a brief, wordless tutorial on how to manipulate the camera, the player is left to decide which way to go. That's it: no half-hour unskippable opening cinematic, no backstory, no text, no voice-over, no <i>nothing</i>. I found it deeply refreshing to simply be thrust into the game-world and allowed to make my own decisions about where to go and what to do.<br />
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Since the only moving thing in this featureless world of sand is a flapping "scarf" atop a nearby dune, the player will most likely decide to move towards that. As you crest the dune, the camera pulls back to simultaneously reveal a shining mountaintop in the impossibly-far distance, and a stunning panoramic vista of ancient sand-choked ruins. The word "Journey" fades into view above the mountaintop, and you realize that the developers have just gotten you to willingly walk right into the title-screen without even realizing that you were playing right along. <i>Journey </i>is full of moments like this, where gameplay and game-design work together, instead of at cross-purposes. Sometimes the camera-work was so smooth that it was hard to tell whether I was playing a game or directing a movie.<br />
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Another thing that I loved is that there's zero dialogue in this game. No text, no narration, no spoken dialogue, not even a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HUD_(video_gaming)">HUD</a>. Asides from the aforementioned title-screen and the end credits, <i>Journey </i>is a game totally devoid of linguistic content. Just like in real life, there's nothing blinking in the corner of your vision to distract you from what you're seeing and doing, which has the effect of keeping the player in the here-and-now, rather than distracted how many points they've got left or have earned so far. This game isn't about winning, it's about... well, the journey.<br />
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And what a journey it is.<br />
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<i>When this vista opened up, I was </i>literally <i>struck dumb in the middle of a sentence; all I could do was stare in awe.</i></div>
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This game will take you over sand and under the sea and through the earth and up, up, up into the very highest reaches of the stratosphere. You'll run, leap, fly, swim, and even sneak your way through a world which feels simultaneously solid and otherworldly, plausible and fantastic. You'll feel wonder, foreboding, fear, sorrow, and even the tender concern for a beloved traveling companion.<br />
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You might even make a friend along the way: about two-thirds of the way through, I realized that I suddenly had a companion, a second figure identical to myself. Like me, it seemed unable to talk, but we could "sing" to each other (if you can call it that; it's really more like a pulse of white light accompanied by a tone and a glowing glyph). Since singing and touching refilled each other's jump-power, we stuck close together whenever possible. By the end, I was surprised at how emotionally attached I got to my nameless, faceless "buddy", even if s/he couldn't communicate with me in any linguistic sense (kind of like the Companion Cube from <i>Portal</i>).<br />
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<i>"I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam."</i></div>
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<i>Journey</i> is full of genuinely touching moments, despite not having a single word of written nor spoken dialogue. It's packed from beginning to end with a sense of wonder and exploration, of mind-blowing revelations and stunning, silencing vistas which emerge without warning. The desert (indeed, the entire game) reminded me of trekking over <a href="http://www.sleepingbeardunes.com/">Sleeping Bear Dunes</a> as a child: you never know what you're going to see when you crest the next rise, but it's sure to blow you away.Dave the PTAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01944718651655523475noreply@blogger.com1