"One goes out like a snuffed candle": The Horror of Marjorie Bowen and Other Worlds

I don't usually do two posts in one day. These days I've just been too busy working on my dissertation prospectus. But I find I have a little extra time this afternoon. I'm hanging out at a Caribou Coffee in Mayfield, Ohio, and I want to tell you about an interesting horror writer I just discovered.

Marjorie Bowen (1885-1952)

Her name is Marjorie Bowen (1885-1952). I don't know much about her other than that she wrote historical romances and horror stories. I picked up a collection of her short stories titled, The Bishop of Hell and Other Stories, and I read, "The Bishop of Hell." What a great story!

Some summary: it takes place in London in the late 18th century. It is ostensibly the remembrance of a fellow about a former friend by the name of Hector Geatrix. Hector Geatrix is a horrible guy. Of him the narrator states, "his reckless, his impiety, his boldness terrified even those hardened in wicked ways" (97). But what makes him even worse? He had been ordained a Bishop in the Church. The main crux of the narrative is Geatrix's love affair with a woman who he takes to the continent. I won't give it away, but it ends with a turn to the supernatural, an intriguing image that stirred me deeply.

Let me relate one great quote. Geatrix is meditating on engaging in a duel and the possibility of dying. This is what he says: "There's nothing, not even Hell, Jack--one goes out like a snuffed candle--just blackness, blackness, nothingness, nothingness" (106). I love the repition of the "blackness, blackness, nothingness, nothingness." Such a powerful and yet interesting statement taken in the context of the story's end (which, of course, I'm dying to tell you about. I won't, of course).

Let me try to articulate why I loved this story. First, it's pace. It moves so leisurely and yet relates so many events. In 15 pages you learn the life story of this villain. You learn where he has been, where he goes, and how he ends up. Secondly, in these 15 pages, a complete world is opened up for you. For me, Bowen was able to completely recreate London in the late eighteenth century through passing references to clothing, powdered wigs, jewelry, etc.. This is difficult to do.

Without a doubt, however, the greatest element of this story is how it suggests "other worlds." It folds into the texture of the narrative the idea that there is more to reality than this life. This effect is evoked more through tone than any direct statement. The portrait the narrator paints of Geatrix is disturbing, and it disturbs on a metaphysical level. How? I just don't know.

Anyhow, if you haven't heard of Marjorie Bown, if you haven't read her, then--I recommend this story to you. Wonder, wonderful.

Review of "The Shuttered Temple," by Jonathan L. Howard, in Black Gate 15

Last night I read the second story in Black Gate 15, "The Shuttered Temple," by Jonathan Howard. I really enjoyed it. The main character, Kyth, was intriguing, and the plot, though simplistic, was engaging.

There were a couple of things about this story that weren't to my taste. But, above all, it was quite entertaining.

The main character, Kyth the Taker, is a kind of "razor girl," if you will: an acrobatic, very wise, Rogue-type figure who always seems to be a step ahead in the game. Kyth is unique in that she's a "smart aleck" who always cracks jokes and says what she's thinking. Her skill, I would say, comes from her ability to analyze and extrapolate and understand things at sight. There's a scene where she's evaluating a specific problem, and--snap--she just understands. In this way, strangely enough, she suggested to me the non-fiction work Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking by Malcolm Gladwell (in this book he analyzes folks who are able to just understand things because of their deep, ingrained professional abilities). In large part, Kyth is a super thief/burglar. I really liked Kyth and she was a big reason why I liked this story.

The plot some was somewhat simplistic for my tastes and I think there was a missed oppurtunity. It concerns this scary, evil temple that has never been infiltrated. Our protagonist, of course, has to infiltrate it. I won't spoil it for you. Finding out what is in the temple is great. And yet--I would have liked to have seen more of the temple. Your imagination runs wild as you think to yourself, "Just what? Oh--what?! is?! in that temple?!" Could it be zombies? Demons? A lich lord? The story helps in suggesting things that might be lingering inside of it. And yet, I felt as though it failed to deliver.

Nevertheless, I valued the story for its ability to evoke this curiosity in me.

The dialog was somewhat irritating. In spite of Kyth's likableness, sometimes she speaks too much like a modern person. I know, I know--secondary world fantasy isn't necessarily in "the past." I agree. I agree. I guess, when reading fantasy (and sword and sorcery) one of the elements I take pleasure in is the anachronistic language. This language seems slightly stilted, a little awkward, and somewhat historical. Rather than, "Hello! How're ya doin'?" you have, "Hail! Well met! How are you, friend?"

I'm absolutely sure this is a personal taste thing. I experience "modernized" dialog in secondary world fantasy as an incongruity. I mean, just look at my fiction. My characters speak like bad parodies of Shakespeare plays.

Briefly, let me say something about the writing style. I don't want to take it fore granted. Howard's writing is great. It's the kind of narrative style that becomes a "window," if you will; you forget you're reading. You just concentrate on the story. This isn't banality on his part. It takes a lot of skill and practice to develop this type of "organic" narrative prose. I wish I could do it.

Conclusion: great story. Some elements of it weren't to my taste. But! It was a great story: intriguing plot, likeable character, and skillful, economic prose.

Rating: 4/5

Review of Ruth Nestvold's "Never Ever After: Three Short Stories"

A few days ago I purchased the Kindle edition of Ruth Nestvold's Never Ever After: Three Short Stories. I've been busy with teaching, writing my dissertation prospectus, and auditing a Victorian literature class, and so I couldn't quite find the time to read it. This morning I pressed myself some coffee, went into my office, sat down, shut the door, and read it, the world be damned.

Here's my review of it.

Let me make some general comments about Nestvold's style in this anthology before I move on to look at each story separately. First off, I'm struck by her lyricism. Although she's writing in a novelistic style (not so much in the second story), there is a kind of poetry to her language, a rhythmic and musical quality to it. Unlike texts that hew completely to a novelistic style--where the reader can "forget" the language and thereby concentrate on the story--Nestvold's stories really make you revel in a good turn of phrase. Consider this passage: "She wound her way through the men like smoke, wafting by them, teasing." Such a beautiful simile! Her lyricism conforms, I think, to her subject matter, which straddles the line between traditional medieval romances and fairy tales.

Let me briefly say something about each story.

The first story, "A Serca Tale," is really interesting because it takes a fresh perspective on the epic hero. The epic hero in this story is not the "good guy" or protagonist. He's the antagonist who the main characters flee. The narrative is quite simple, consisting mostly of a flight away from a castle; and yet, the pleasure of this story is in the telling.

The second story, "King Orfeigh," was my favorite. This story is stylistically ambitious. The narrative style relies upon a commanding or "imperative" verb tense. For example, "You walk into the room. You go downstairs. You drink a cup of coffee." This narrative style has a strange way of alienating you from the story and bringing you closer into it. It definitely conforms to the emotional crisis being experienced by the main character, a wandering bard/king.

The final story, "Happily Ever After," is fun. It's an example of a kind of fiction I like to call a "revisionist fairy tale." The beauty of these stories are that they remind us that fairy tales are different than our lives. By juxtaposing psychological depth onto fairy tale characters, the lives of the fairy tale characters start to resemble our own. We start to wonder: if my life was a fairy tale, what kind would it be?

Conclusion: a wonderful collection of short stories that are stylistically beautiful and emotionally rich. I aim to read more of Nestvold.

If you're interested, here is a link to the book on Amazon.com: Never Ever After: Three Short Stories

Review of *Farewell to Tyrn* by Ryan Harvey

Lying in bed I found myself stumbling through the Amazon book store and I located a novelette I've been reading about in the blogs, titled, Farewell to Tyrn, by Ryan Harvey.

I hadn't intended on buying anything. I had intended on reading some M.R. James. But, there I was, lying in bed, looking at a new novelette that costs 99 cents. And before I know what was happening...!

I bought it. I read it. I enjoyed it. I fell asleep.

And here I am drinking coffee and reviewing it.

Let me say this up front: it was worth 99 cents. And, truth be told, probably more, though I think 99 cents, is, at this point, a kind of threshold. It was just cheap enough for me to say, "What the hell? Why not try something new?" I'm glad I did.

Some details: it's approximately 9000 words, and it reads, I'd say, in about an hour. The novelette is a good genre for a lunch break or a last read before bed. A comparison to other media: in terms of narrative pace, think of a Star Trek episode.

What's it about? Two things: the story of a little girl and a threat to her and an interesting "secondary" world. In other words, there seem to be two functions to this story: (1) to showcase an interesting science-fantasy setting and (2) to tell an exciting story about a girl whose life changes. Let me take these one at a time.

(1) The world showcased is very interesting and beautifully sketched. I've learned Ryan Harvey has another story in the Writers of the Future anthology series (volume 27) "An Acolyte of Black Spires," that is also set in this world, and so I'm eager to read it. The world, Ahn-Tarqa, is a kind of hybrid. It's shaded by "science-fictional" and "fantasy" tropes. Put simply, there are references to swords, sorcerers, wilderness, towered cities; and there are also references to technology and dinosaur-like creatures.

(2) The story about the little girl, Belde, drew my interest. I won't give it away. Suffice it to say, some parts of it are leisurely, allowing you to enjoy the milieu and to understand the character; other parts surge at breakneck speed and are very exciting. Some characters were flat, but not for want of characterization; rather, they show up, enticing you with their mysterious presence, and then leave, and you find you want to know more about them.

How's it written? Quite well. It's written from a first person perspective, which carries with it both its own challenges and affordances. Challenge: would the protagonist, a little girl, be this articulate? This observant.  Affordance: what better way to immerse your reader in your world and characters than putting them "behind the eyes" of the main character. Harvey strikes a balance between these poles.

Conclusion: A wonderful reading experience. A good "entry point" for Harvey's Ahn-Tarqa. I hope Ryan Harvey writes more.

Game Review: "Puerto Rico" by Rio Grande Games

So, I’m currently teaching Robinson Crusoe in my novel class. Because of this, I found myself thinking about "the new world" and a German-style board game I played years ago, Puerto Rico (published by Rio Grande Games), which simulates the efforts of colonists to settle Puerto Rico. This was just one of those games I played one time, and yet, and the experience of it lingered with me.

I remember loving the game. But the gaming group I was involved with at the time preferred to play a new game almost every meeting (and we met but once a week). Sadly, I never got a chance to replay it.

And so, before I allowed myself to reflect on all the other important things I should have been doing, I was in my car driving to Medina, Ohio with the intent of buying Peurto Rico , which I found at one of the only gaming stores in the area, Alter Reality Games.

I got my sister-in-law and wife to play it with me last night; and so, I’d like to review it.

First, I want to talk about the tone and feeling of the game, which comes through due to the unadorned yet very satisfying art. The game suggests “the new world” and--though historical accuracy or historical specificity isn’t that important in the game (the game simulates the creation of no “specific” colony on Puerto Rico) I do get the sense that the time period is the early 16th century.

What’s the point of the game? It’s a resource game and so you spend time growing sugar cane, coffee plants, indigo, corn, and tobacco, and shipping it back to the “old world.” Also, you spend time building plantations and production buildings—like coffee roasters and sugar mills—for the preperation of your agricultural output.

It should be clear: this isn’t a military game. The goal of the game is to build up Puerto Rico and not to fight each other. In fact, there is no military mechanic at all.

The gameplay. One thing that really endears me to this game is that its diceless. The only random element are the other’s players actions (which you have to react to) and a few piles of shuffled “plantation cards” (you never know what kind of plantations you have the option of establishing). With that said, this is a very “skill based” game. Because the goal of the game is to produce a functioning enterprise that turns out the most goods and profit in doubloons, the vast majority your gameplay efforts are centered around organizing and building yourself up.

In a way the game is similar in spirit to Mayfair Games popular The Settlers of Catan. Though I really like that game, I prefer Puerto Rico. Why? An excessively large element of Settlers of Catan is random luck. Although Peurto Rico is similar to Settlers of Catan in that its up to you to establish your colony any way you want, in Settlers, luck, I think, determines your success more than any strategy you deploy (folks will, of course, disagree with me here).

Conclusion: this game was as fun if not more fun than I remembered it. If you want a strategic, thought provoking game that will satisfy your desire to build, organize, and consolidate, but one that is less “combative” than, say, Axis and Allies, then this is your game.

Review of Jeff VanderMeer's Booklife: Strategies and Survival Tips for the 21st-Century Writer

So, I need to write my prospectus for my dissertation. And so, apologies in advance if my posts are a little lean for the next couple of weeks.

I need to work on brevity anyways!

Today I want to briefly review a very good book: Booklife: Strategies and Survival Tips for the 21st Century Writer, by Jeff VanderMeer.

Generally put, this book is a must-read for anyone who aspires to be a writer in our current, “post-print” context.

Let me be clear: this book isn’t about e-publishing specifically. It is, however, about surviving in an environment where the traditional road to publication is being metaphorically ripped up and re-paved.

Booklife was published in 2009 and so, in this fast-paced and changing environment, some folks might think any advice it offers—considering its ostensible purpose (to help you survive now)--is outdated.

I don’t think so. Not at all.

Reading this book I was struck how much of the advice he offers three years ago seems to prempt developments in publishing today.

One thing is certain: this book has definitely changed the way I plan to proceed with developing my life as a writer. Thanks to Mr. VanderMeer I have eagerly discarded my preconceived notions about the road to becoming a professional writer of fiction.

Let me try to distill in a few sentences the key lesson I took away from this book.

VanderMeer compares developments in professional writing and publishing today to previous developments in the music industry (post-Napster, ITunes music store, Myspace, etc..). He compares the profusion of independent musicians and labels to the emergence of independent publishers and “dyi” writers. Thus, just as independent bands needed learn to market and, more importantly, create their own niche markets/consumers, so writers of this moment and the future will have to learn to do this as well.

Gulp. That’s a tall order.

He’s has all sorts of ideas about how to create those audiences, and I won’t give them away.

To wrap up: this book is a must read if you want to be a writer today.

Arbitrary rating: 5/5

A Review of "A Game of Thrones: The Board Game"

So, I really enjoy George R.R. Martin’s, A Song of Fire and Ice. I also enjoy the HBO’s adaptation of A Game of Thrones. And so, I was somewhat excited when my sister-in-law, Beth, got a copy of Fantasy Flight’s A Game of Thrones: the Board Game (2nd edition). It took us a while to get around to it, but last night Beth, my wife Nicole, and I gave it a try.

Sidenote: It should be made clear: this isn’t the board game adaptation of the HBO adaptation of A Game of Thrones. This is a board game based on the novel, and so folks coming to it expecting film stills from the HBO production—images of Sean Bean and Emmy-award winning actor Peter Dinklage—will be disappointed (not that there’s anything wrong with the HBO production. It’s great! I’m looking forward to season 2.)

A brief historical excursion: 

In the past I’ve tended to be less of a “boardgamer” and more of an RPGer. Although I’ve preferred tabletop roleplaying games since I started playing them, I’ve also greatly enjoyed strategy games like Risk, Axis and Allies, Squad Leader, and Shogun. But about seven years ago, after I graduated from undergrad, I made contact with a really great group of boardgamers through a co-worker of mine. They introduced me to all sorts of boardgames: The Settlers of Catan, Ticket to Ride, Puerto Rico (yes, the game, not the country).

Since then, I’ve been eager to play more "euro" board games. Of late, my favorite game is Arkham Horror, published by Fantasy Flight Games. This is a great game set in the world of H.P. Lovecraft’s fiction and Cthulhu Mythos.

Back to the game:

Which reminds me: A Game of Thrones: the Board Game is published by Fantasy Flight Games. When I learned this, I was excited, because they have a very good reputation as a game company and their version of Arkham Horror is so fun.

Let me be up front: I loved the game. I think it has great potential for “cloak and dagger” intrigue (alas, not much of this happened with just 3 players).

Unlike other strategy board games, like, say, Axis and Allies, the point is not simply to build armies and deploy battle tactics. You could conceivably win this game by taking no military actions whatsoever. Also, the battle mechanic in this game is somewhat simplified, making players consider alternatives to victory.

That’s another important element of the game: it’s diceless. There is no random element, other than a few decks of cards that generate events each turn. I love that. I like the idea of diceless games.

I’m sure everyone who has played the Risk has experienced this irritating phenomenon: when you attack, say, Madagascar with 30 armies and your opponent--the dice having been bespelled by dark sorcery--defends with one army. Yeah. Statistics. Kind of silly.

There’s something to be said about diceless games: you can’t claim the dice were in your favor or they were against you. If you win, you win; if you lose, you lose.

Another thing that has to be noted about this game is the artwork. It’s beautiful! The tokens, the figurines, the cards, the game board map: all of it is just so-detailed, skillfully drawn, and truly captures the essence of Martin’s continent of Westeros.

I’m sure this artwork has been doctorted up digitally (who doesn’t do this these days?). And yet, theres that raw “brush stroke” quality to the artwork that is missing in a lot of the contemporary gaming art I encounter.

One last thing that makes this game fun: in spite of it being a cloak-and-dagger, stab-eachother-in-the-back sort of game, there is also a mechanic that forces you to occasionally come together in the name of Westeros: the wildling attack. There are some pretty horrible consequences for a wildling victory. This is a great additon for a game like this, I think. Taking out your enemy becomes more of a moral dilemma when you know they are all that’s seperating you from the hordes to the north.

Conclusion: 4.5 stars out of 5. 

By the way, here’s a link to my Boardgame Geek profile. I’m new on there, and so I’d be eager to make any connection! Jason's Board Game Geek Profile

The Animation Masterpieces of Rankin and Bass (Part 2 of 3): The Last Unicorn

 My wife is currently in the midst of taking her qualifying exams for her Ph.D.. And so, last night, I atavistically devolved into a little child: I was relegated to our bedroom with a pot of decaf, some cookies, and a DVD copy of Rankin and Bass’s masterpiece, The Last Unicorn.

And now, having had breakfast at a local breakfast joint, Kalie’s Family Restaurant, a couple of real cups of coffee, I’m now poised and ready to continue my series, The Animation Masterpieces of Rankin and Bass.

For those of you who are interested, in my previous post, I reviewed Rankin and Bass’s animated adaption of The Hobbit. Tomorrow I’m going to review my personal favorite, the less widely known flick, The Flight of Dragons.

But first, The Last Unicorn. Be forwarned. This review is a little different. I don’t say anything about the film’s style. Thus, it is more a nostalgic remembrance/homage to it, a sentimental remembrance of the lesson I took away from it as a kid.

I’m not going to waste time summarizing the classic work this film is based on, Peter S. Beagle’s novel of the same name. It appears on many “best works of modern fantasy” lists and is widely considered to be part of the fantasy canon (right next to, say, J.R.R. Tolkien and Ursula K. LeGuin). Suffice it to say this is the story of the last unicorn in the world and her attempt to bring unicorns back.

Let me be clear: this isn’t the most “macho” of movies. It’s a love story about a unicorn. When I was first introduced to this movie (around 10), I felt slightly reluctant to watch it, pressured as I was to love football, baseball, wrestling, and camping and not Atari. How I got over this feeling, came to love unicorns, is an important part of this review/homage.

I remember: when I first saw The Last Unicorn it was broadcast on television, and I was irritated by how the wizard looked: Schmendrick the Magician had teeny-tiny legs, NO BEARD, and was wearing tights! This disturbed me because as a little kid because I had a very clear idea of what wizards were supposed to look like: long gray beards, pointy hats, robes with stars and moons on them.

As I watched, however, I made this connection, came to terms with the irritation Schmendrick’s appearance caused me, and thereby glimpsed the simple yet powerful “message” of the film: “appearances” and are often deceiving.

Sure, you may think a 10 year old is too little to extrapolate “messages” or “lessons” from stories. I beg to differ. I think "sponge-minded" kids are often much more inclined to try to seek out a didactic message or “point,” if you will, in the media they consume than us "rock-minded" jaded adults. That being neither here nor there, trust me on this: I got it. The message of the film, that is. That appearances on deceiving.

In spite of the fact that Schmendrick looked like a twerpy sort of guy, he was actually a powerful magician. In spite of the fact that “Lady Amalthea” looked like a beautiful human princess, she was really a unicorn. Consider the entire sequence of Mommy Fortuna’s circus. Some summary: this witch lady has all of these animals—a lion, a snake, a monkey—bespelled to look like creatures from mythology. People fall into the trap of her illusion and believe in them. I won’t give away a cool part of the film, where one creature—who, like the others, appears to be a creature of mythology—actually is one. But, here we have it again, the message: appearances are deceiving.

Through some twist of thought I applied this lesson to the film and as a little kid I began to happily celebrate unicorns, to doodle them in my notebooks, to draw them shooting lasers out of their eyes.

My logic, though not as elegantly put, went something like this: you, sir, may think unicorns are just for girls. But, sir, they aren’t. They’re awesome. They’re a symbol for how the surface of the world is an illusion. And that there are other things, beyond what we can glimpse with our senses, that are sometimes more and sometimes less fantastical than this life.

In reality it probably went something more like this: I like unicorns, so @#$% you.

Pretty deep thoughts for a little kid. You can believe it. Or not. But take this story of my first experience with the film as a testimony to its artistic power. It was powerful enough to make a little, self-conscious, asthmatic kid afraid of being called a nerd (who is now quite happy to accept that appellation) come to love unicorns as a kind of protest.

Video Games as Art: The Aesthetic Value of Skyrim

I noticed that a lot of folks have been reviewing the video game The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and so I thought I'd throw my two cents in. I don't plan on doing a straightforward review of the game because nothing I could say along those lines could be very original. Trust lots and lots of other folks and not me when I say, baldly, it's a piece of art.

Having been released December 8th of this year, the game's not even a month old and many have expressed that Skyrim is their favorite of 2011. I completely understand.

I'm not just much of a "contemporary" video gamer and so I don't have many other titles to compare it to (take my review with a grain of salt). Let me be clear, though: I play a lot of video games, but the video games I play are retrogames: old school games on the Atari, Nintendo Entertainment System (NES), Super Nintendo (SNES), Sega Genesis, and more.

I plan on spending some time discussing these old school games on this blog. But to inaugurate my commentary on video-gaming, I thought I would start with the most popular game out right now: Skyrim.

Why is Skyrim so great? Let me answer that in an indirect way: it makes me cold. What do I mean by this? Well, the setting of the game is the northern province of a great empire, a kind of Norway, that is a beautiful frozen land; and the richness of the scenery is such that (no exaggeration) as I play the game, I sometime feel a chill as the wind blows and the snow is swept up in clouds. For example, my character--a giant, Conan-like barbarian who wields a two-handed sword and wears platemail--fell into an iceberg filled ocean, and I thought to myself, "Wow. That would be cold as hell."

A reflex thought like this reveals, I think, the degree to which the virtual environment of this game is substantial. Indeed, walking through the wilderness, through towns, over mountains, into swamps, through ancient tombs--one can almost imagine oneself being there. In spite of previous developments in 3D rendering technology in video games, I've rarely, if ever, felt that.

At one point I found myself in a swamp at nighttime. Aurora borealis swirled overhead. Moonlight illuminated the vegetation. Glowing flies buzzed around. And a dragon flew in the distance, howling. It's kind of embarrassing to admit this, but, at that moment, I was gripped by a sense of wonder.

I realize this may sound hyperbolic; it definitely sounds silly to speak of a video game in terms of wonder. And yet--and yet! I can't deny that Skyrim effects me in a way parallel to, say, a beautiful poem or a touching song.

Here's a hunch: Skyrim is a symptom that we may have crossed a boundary. It reveals to us more than most previous video games the capacity of that medium to be art. Video games have a lot to go before their aesthetic worth is comparable to poetry, painting, fiction, drama, music. Nevertheless, playing Skyrim allows me to imagine a day when video games demand a sort of cultural gravitas, when their capacity to stir the soul is on par with a ballet or even *gulp* a production of Hamlet.

This is not to say that previous video games were not art. Paleolithic cave drawings and tribal music have their own unique beauty, but they are of a different nature than the paintings of Leonardo DaVinci and the compositions of Mozart. Nor is this train of thought meant to make aesthetic demands on our current video-gaming culture (any video game that aspired to be Hamlet, I think, would fail miserably. Now, alas, is not the time--a integral element of the medium is its fun, non-serious quality).

But, as far as the history of video-gaming is concerned, Skyrim feels like a moment of critical mass.

Short Fiction: Making the Premise Conform to the Treatment

So I wanted to write a post explicitly centered on the writing of science-fiction, fantasy, and horror, and in the service of doing that I went to the writing section of my bookshelf and took down How to Write Tales of Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction (Cincinnati: Writer's Digest, 1987). The first thing you'll notice, I'm sure, is the date. How relevant is a twenty-five year old book on the writing of genre fiction? Good question. Let me try and make a case for this.

First off, this isn't a monograph written by a single author, it's a collection of essays. Who wrote the essays? Here is where my main argument for the relevance of this book is made: Robert Bloch,  Ray Bradbury, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Richard Matheson, etc.. Yes: these are classic weird writers who have had success and whose work populates many of the "must read" lists of this genre. 

With that said, there is a lot in this book that doesn't seem relevant today, namely, advice on navigating the the road to publication: e.g. preparing a manuscript, locating an agent, market studies, etc.. I have another book coming for that: Booklife: Strategies and Survival Tips for the 21st Century Writer, by Jeff VanderMeer.

But there is a lot this book still has to offer, something that comes through in the introduction. Written by Robert Bloch, it is titled "How to Write Horribly for Fun and Profit." It offers some pretty good advice that he distills into one statement: 

"My primary advice to science-fiction writers and would-be writers is to evaluate story ideas objectively and write them up in whatever length is most effective" (8). 

I find this advice refreshing. Often times I wonder if what I'm writing is the most effective length. Frankly, I struggle with longer fiction because I rarely think my story idea necessitates a novelistic treatment. 

I've written short stories a brief as 3000 words and as long as 10,000 words. One of my short stories wouldn't end and crept up to 16,000 words. I'm currently engaged in writing what I intended to be a novella (my aim was 30,000 words) and I'm 10,000 words in and realize this is going to be much longer. 

The key, I think, is to at least have a plan for length before you begin. And also, that more often than not a story idea can sustain, at most, a short story form. Or less, a flash fiction.

I understand reservations and feel them myself.

The difficult thing about short fiction is its marketability. I get the impression the short fiction market is difficult to break into, though I believe current developments in e-publication and e-readers is making the writing, publication, and selling of short stories easier to do.

Because of their lack of marketability, I think folks are reluctant to write in and master the short stories; accordingly, they want to write novels. And this is because of market realities. And so the issue becomes, are you interested in marketability or aesthetics?

Bloch's advice is that aspiring writers should write their stories in the form they need to be written, market considerations aside. I find that really refreshing. It gives me license to say, "The hell with it. I'm writing a short story because that's the kind of treatment that conforms best to this premise." 

Until I'm confident I've become a good writer, aesthetic considerations trump market considerations. 

Swords and Dark Magic: James Enge, "The Singing Spear," and Flatness and Roundess of Characters

After a week in Portland and a week in Columbus, I find myself returned to my home, my study in Cleveland, where the drone of my room heater and the purr of my cat and the steam of my coffee fill me with joy. It's going to be a great year.

Today I'm going to continue my series on the anthology Swords and Dark Magic. Here is a link to the other posts: Swords and Dark Magic: Extended Review

The fourth story is by James Enge and is titled, "The Singing Spear." It concerns the adventures of a drunkard who is also an enchanter of weapons whose name is Morlock. I won't give away the plot. Suffice it to say it is indeed sword and sorcery in tone: murder, drinking, sorcery, moral ambiguity, blood, etc..

To generalize, I loved this story. Second to the Steven Erikson, this story is my favorite. And I'd have to say this is because of the protagonist, Morlock. He's very interesting. At first he seems to be a stereotypical sword and sorcery protagonist--a brooding warrior who is out for himself, haunted by demons, drinking them away. And yet, in the course of a single swordly-and-sorcerous adventure, he surprises you with his depth, with behavior and feelings that I believe were quite surprising.

I've never read Enge's other work but this makes me very eager to seek it out and read more. Here is a link to his webpage and blog: http://jamesenge.com/

Reflecting on Morlock reminds me of an important characteristic of interesting characters, namely, their capacity to change. Narrative theorists reflect a lot on fictional characters and how they function in narratives. Often they re-hash two designations coined by E.M. Forster in his book Aspects of the Novel (1927), namely, flat characters versus round characters.

Flat characters are characters have no hidden depth or complexity; round characters do. I like to think about the distinction between flat and round characters in terms of their relationships to character types. Flat characters embrace their character type through action; round characters resist or subvert their character types through action.

First, what is a character type? It's a fully-formed character role lingering somewhere in our unconscious mind that we deploy in order to understand people. For example: I go to a bar, encounter a young man who wears a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, camouflage pants, and who has a shaved head. This happens to be a local bar in a rural area. Before I even meet him I make certain assumptions: he is a redneck, a hillbilly, etc..

Yes, character types are narratologist's word for stereotypes, except stereotypes are always considered negative, slightly insulting, whereas character types are considered the fundamental cognitive apparatuses by which we understand the world and the people we encounter in it.

Continuing with out example: suppose this fella, upon talking with him, professes his love of the Ohio State Buckeyes, talks about his love of country music, starts telling you stories about his tractor, his rifles, how he recently bagged a few deer. If he showed up in a story, he would be a flat character.

In reality, no one really exists as a flat character. We are all complex and unique and therefore character types always fall short when used on normal people.

Let's reconsider our example: suppose this fella, upon talking with him, professes his love for Debussy and country music; suppose he loves playing D&D and enjoys a good football game. Suppose, if you will, he drives a tractor but also is Jewish, is a virologists as a local university, and writes horrible poetry that he won't share with anyone. This would be a round character.

In reality, we're all round characters. And yet--and yet! in reality, we all treat each other as if we are flat characters (that is, until we get to know eachother). 

The issue, for me, is character type and conformity or non-conformity to it. Flat characters conform to a character type. Round characters resist it.

Morlock, as a sword and sorcery character, is unique because he both manifests that sword and sorcery protagonist stereotype, and yet, he resists it.
 

My Favorite Author of 2011: Jack Vance

I'm going to put off continuing with my "Aesthetic Analysis of Genre Fiction" posts for now. There's a history of the fantasy genre I want to read before I continue: Lin Carter's, Imaginary Worlds.

Today I'm going to spend some time discussing my favorite author of 2011. 

I've already discussed how I have a serious problem with not reading contemporary genre fiction. And so, it should come as no surprise that my favorite author of 2011 wrote and published many years ago: Jack Vance.

I hadn't given Jack Vance a long, thorough read until this year. I'd read his famous short story, "Mazirian the Magician," in book 1 of Isaac Asimov's Magical Worlds of Fantasy series, Wizards. I remember wanting to follow this reading up with more Vance and so I purchased both The Dying Earth and Eyes of the Overworld. 

I subsequently put them on my shelf and quickly forgot about them. It just so happened The Dying Earth was on my qualifying examinations list for my degree, and so I found myself reading it again earlier this fall. This was followed by Eyes of the Overworld. 

I wrote a review for almost each book I read during my qualifying exams reading. I know this is a short-cut, but I'm going to cite those reviews. 

The Dying Earth

I read Jack Vance’s The Dying Earth (New York: Baen, 1986, originally published 1950) and I loved it. It’s a collection of loosely related short stories about all sorts of different fantasy scenarios; however, the main character, I think, is the setting: the dying earth.

Some words about “the dying earth.” All of the stories take place in an extremely distant future where the sun has become a huge red giant and it could nova at any time. Meanwhile, magic has returned to the world but it has been forgotten. Sorcerers and wizards continue to weave spells, but they are no longer imaginative or understand the principles upon which magic is based. Thus, their magical art is a decadent endeavor marked by atavism. These sorcerers know how to do magic, but they do it by rote, by simply following through the formulas of previously developed spells. The spells have interesting names like “the Excellent Prismatic Spray,” “Phandaal’s Mantle of Stealth,” and “the Spell of the Slow Hour.”

If you’ve played Dungeons and Dragons before, then these names will seem familiar. Why? Well, Jack Vance’s The Dying Earth and its sequels were influences on the creators of Dungeons and Dragons. This is of course why I came to these stories in the first place, to see the mythic forefathers of the magical spells of Dungeons and Dragons.

But the interest of the stories aren’t exhausted in that one, esoteric characteristic. Vance has an extremely distinct style. He writes with humor while depicting cruel violence. Amid horrifying scenes—say, an orgy wherein a cult cavorts with demons—love and beauty can blossom. Eclectic is the adjective that best describes Vance’s fantasy.

I recommend giving these stories a read. Of all the stories, I believe “Mazirian the Magician” is the best. The main character—a sorcerer who is obsessed with a girl--will linger with you for a long time after reading of him.

Eyes of the Overworld

I finished The Eyes of the Overworld (New York: Pocket Books, 1966) last night and enjoyed it. For me its better than the earlier Dying Earth collection of short-stories because each of the stories are embedded into an overarching, picaresque plot (though at times some of the stories due seem incidental and random, though I enjoy the tone of playfulness this creates). Though such a comparison is silly because obviously the originality of Dying Earth is the platform upon which Vance constructs this narrative. Rather than make more bald assessments, let me tell you a little about the novel.

Published in 1966, The Eyes of the Overworld is the second book in Jack Vance’s Dying Earth series. Many of the same plot elements show up in this story: powerful sorcerers, strange creatures, an extremely dangerous yet beautiful wilderness. What anchors this series of stories is the main character’s quest. His name is Cugel the Clever, a roguish figure who I thought was hilarious. He’s a great anti-hero: extremely self-interested, narcissistic, borderline crazy, a fast-talker. In the opening frame story he gets tricked into burglarizing a powerful sorcerer’s home who catches him and threatens to curse him with the “Charm of Forlorn Encystment,” “which constricts the subject in a pore some forty-five miles below the surface of the earth” (14). The novel is filled with all sorts of cruel, interestingly humorous curses and spells like this. Rather than accept this punishment, the sorcerer and Cugel work out a deal together. Cugel is required to go to a far away land and retrieve a magical contact lens that allows one to see the world as a paradise.

The sorcerer’s magic quickly spirits him far away to where he discovers the lens; the rest of the novel is Cugel’s adventures in making his way back to his home in Azenomei. I won’t spoil the story by listing these numerous adventures, but many of them are strange, disturbing, hilarious, intense, and sad.

Bar Review: Ground Kontrol, Portland, Oregon

A few nights ago, I paid a visit to a classic arcade/bar in downtown Portland, Oregon called "Ground Kontrol". It was such a great experience. I review it here because I get the sense the readers of this blog will get a kick out of it. And the concept of an "arcade/bar" is a cool, unique concept I haven't come across before. If you spent time pouring quarters into arcade games as a kid (as I did), then I think this place is for you.

Here's their webpage: Ground Kontrol

Some details about the place: the games span the early 80s to the late 90s. They have the famous X-Men arcade game as well as many of the more famous machines, i.e. Donkey Kong, Pac Man, Double Dragon. And they have a great pinball machine collection. I was particularly enthused by the Star Trek: the Next Generation machine which was signed by Wil Wheaton.

One drawback: the place is kind of crowded. They have limited space for tables, having so many large arcade systems hanging around.

Strangely enough, however, the crowdedness of the place added to the "Cyberpunk vibe" they have going. There are tablestops of fully illuminated plastic, loud techno music, and a plethora of abstract art hanging from the ceiling. And, of course, the place attracts patrons that fit their aesthetic perfectly. I glimpsed some kids who looked like they had just left a Ramones concert or strolled in off the set of Clockwork Orange.
It was a great time, having a brew while playing Mortal Kombat and Tron.