I'm a little torn concerning this book. I gave it four stars because I am an unapologetic Harry Potter nerd and enjoy reading anything related to the...moreI'm a little torn concerning this book. I gave it four stars because I am an unapologetic Harry Potter nerd and enjoy reading anything related to the series, but parts of this book didn't really work for me.
The title of the book really isn't accurate. The author, Melissa Anelli, runs a popular HP fansite called the Leaky Cauldron, and is neck-deep in the fandom that surrounds the Harry Potter series. “The Fans” get a quiet, unassuming little nod in the book’s subtitle, but they really represent the lion’s share of what this book is really about. Also unapparent at first glance is the fact that this book is, for all intents and purposes, a memoir; nearly everything is described through the eyes of the author, including arguments with her mother and faux-modest observations of her own personal fans.
However, Anelli is fiercely dedicated to describing and clarifying the impact of the Harry Potter phenomenon on herself and, by extension, other fans she knows and interacts with. The books, the author, and the characters actually get very little page time, except within the context of their meaning to the fans and their reactions. While this makes for an enjoyable read in its own right, it can be disorienting for those expecting to read about Harry Potter and J. K. Rowling. Especially when Anelli starts discussing the more quirky aspects of the fan community in tones that suggest the reader should already be familiar with them.
In that respect, the book almost feels like a fandom documentary like Trekkies; in fact, the book makes a couple references to a similar documentary film dedicated to Potter fandom, We Are Wizards. Entire chapters cover segments of the fan community, such as the “Wizard Rock” movement and the various gatherings of fans on the Internet. The latter is an enduring theme throughout the book; Anelli takes great pains to highlight the importance of the Internet in Potter fandom, especially considering that the rise of both was chronologically parallel. I confess to wavering back and forth with these chapters. Some of them are extremely fun and interesting, such as the descriptions of touring with the band Harry and the Potters, and the detailed recountings of book release parties and all-night reading marathons. Others, however… well, I couldn’t decide whether to be irritated or amused by the earnest way in which I was expected to care about “big name” fanfiction writers, or the pathetic lunacy that pervaded the apparently heated debates over who was destined to be Harry’s girlfriend. Even parts of Anelli’s personal memoirs veer into over-the-top territory, to me. That being said, however, the honest, non-ironic look into the world of Potter fanaticism by one of its own offers interesting insights and anecdotes that can be surprisingly funny and heartwarming.
There are some chapters that fall more in line with what one would expect from a book like this, and they truly are fascinating. The impact of the Harry Potter books on the publishing world, including the splintering of the New York Times Best Sellers list and the chaotic effect on the battle between small bookstores and big box retailers, got a cursory but extraordinarily interesting examination. Anelli also interviews a high-profile religious opponent of Harry Potter, which makes for good reading, and the book naturally culminates in a description of Anelli’s interview with J. K. Rowling herself.
The biggest problem I had with the book is its chronological structure, which for a “history” is awfully inconsistent. The book’s structure follows a general timeline of the days leading up to the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which is evident in the beginning and ending chapters. However, the middle turns into a confusing, circular mess; each chapter is dedicated to a single topic, and in describing it, Anelli will jump from memories of Book 6 to recollections of Book 2 on a single page and with no warning. Even as someone well-versed in the Harry Potter books and the general history of each, I found myself not really being able to follow her narrative. I actually sort of gave up trying to place when each of her anecdotes actually took place, until things started making sense again as I got closer to the end.
Even with my little frustrations, I did enjoy this book, simply because I consider myself a Harry Potter fan (if, as it has become undeniably clear, not to the somewhat disturbing level as many others) and am interested in reading about the positive impact the series has had on other fans. Once I finished the book, however, I couldn’t really decide whether I was touched and envious that people could find so much meaning in the books and the relationships that sprung up around them, or disturbed by the fact that so many people seem to invest an unhealthy amount of their lives and personal identity in them. Maybe a little of both. (less)
Being a Disneyland devotee, I picked this one up on a lark at a used bookstore. It’s a good read for fans of the park, but nonfiction readers who are...moreBeing a Disneyland devotee, I picked this one up on a lark at a used bookstore. It’s a good read for fans of the park, but nonfiction readers who are looking for a solid expose of Disneyland’s foibles and secrets will be disappointed by the uneven quality of the writing.
According to interviews, Koenig never worked for Disneyland, but apparently hung out with a lot of people who did. The book therefore melds company information, news stories, and public record with anecdotes from mostly nameless inside sources, creating a narrative that is a little salacious even when the actual stories aren’t. To the book's credit, though, it isn’t nearly as sensational as the cover makes it seem; in fact, with exception of a few mean-spirited jabs, the book is pretty fair-handed. Though there isn’t a whole lot here that Disney diehards don’t already know (bear in mind that it was published in 1994), there are plenty of fun and interesting tidbits shared in each chapter, mostly from those anecdotal sources.
The biggest problem with this book is its decidedly amateurish execution. Koenig appears to be a one-man operation, from authorship to distribution, and an editor doesn’t seem to figure in anywhere in the process. The book reads like an extended Internet message board post, complete with wonky grammar, frequent misspellings, and inexplicable tangents (such as the brief bit of religious proselytizing that was so out of place that it was unintentionally hilarious). Even though Koenig offers a thorough reference list at the end of the book, the credibility of the whole thing still seems a bit questionable. Of course, that’s part of this book's charm.
All told, this is a fun, quick read for those who have so much fondness for Disneyland that they don’t mind turning the occasionally cynical eye at it. Those who are too serious about Disneyland for their own good (and trust me, there are a *lot* of those) probably wouldn't like it so much, however.(less)
So, it appears my sudden, random fascination with graphic novels and my rediscovery of Buffy have collided. I originally meant to buy and read the Sea...moreSo, it appears my sudden, random fascination with graphic novels and my rediscovery of Buffy have collided. I originally meant to buy and read the Season 8 books that Joss Whedon actually worked on, but since I'm in the middle of rewatching the entire series, I decided to wait until I was done with that and go through this hefty volume of early Dark Horse comics instead. I liked it, but I didn't love it.
This volume covers two seminal moments in the Buffy canon: her showdown with Lothos in Los Angeles, and her subsequent stay in a mental asylum (which, by the way, is referenced in possibly my favorite episode of the television series, and made that story a particularly satisfying read). It also contains a Las Vegas adventure that explains what happened to Pike, a vignette of Spike and Drusilla, and a lighthearted story featuring a young Dawn.
A canonical, non-Hollywood version of Whedon's original script was enough to hook me, but the whole package actually looked good. And it was good. Different, but good. There are a few confusing moments: some of the vampires in The Origin inexplicably look like Man-Bat, and it took me a few pages to figure out what the deal was with the conjoined twins in the Vegas story, due to the artwork being somewhat questionable. Overall, though, the stories were great reads.
Something was just a little off the mark, though, and I can't put my finger on what it is. It seems a little fanboyish to declaim that this suffers from a pronounced lack of Whedon, but maybe that really is the issue. My favorite part of the Buffy television series is the character arcs and dialogue, and neither feels quite true in these comics. It's as if everyone is doing an impression of the Buffy characters, instead of being an extension of them. The inclusion of Dawn is interesting, too; the explanation for it makes sense academically (everyone has memories of her being there, including Dawn herself), and the resulting story really is cute and fun to read. However, it still feels a little like a convenient excuse to make filler stories.
Honestly, though, I really did like reading this. The sheer amount of material justifies the price, and even the worst of it is still great for Buffy fans. I don't think I'm quite enamored enough to buy another Buffy Omnibus, as I understand there's quite a few. But I'd definitely recommend this to anyone who wants a better version of the movie, and has an interest in pre-Sunnydale Buffy.(less)
This book is awesome. The "kiddy" press-and-play interface and sheer bulkiness might turn some readers off, but don't let the buttons fool you; this i...moreThis book is awesome. The "kiddy" press-and-play interface and sheer bulkiness might turn some readers off, but don't let the buttons fool you; this is a serious book, and it's fascinating.
The Sounds of Star Wars chronicles the work of sound designer Ben Burtt, along with other talented and hardworking people, on the Star Wars films (including the prequels, and the animated Clone Wars series). Each movie gets is own introduction, which gives a basic timetable for how the sound was produced, the circumstances surrounding each film, and how everything came together in the final product. Then, a rich representation of sound effects is presented in an order that roughly corresponds to the timeline of the movie. Each sound is marked with a number, which allows the reader to track down and play a sample of the sound through the book's audio interface (which includes a headphone jack... nicely done, Rinzler). Most of the numbers also mark passages of text that range in size from blurbs to multiple pages, explaining how the sound was conceived, recorded, and mixed.
It's a simple book, and it occasionally veers into the overly technical. But honestly, how much fun is this? Did you know that the Rancor's roar came in part from a dachshund? Or that the Ewok language is a variant of indigenous Mongolian? Even if you aren't impressed by party trivia like that, the simple ability to press a button and have a Jawa scream "Utinni!" at your wife at unexpected moments is worth the price, alone.
Seriously, this is a must-own for Star Wars fans or people interested in the art of sound effects, and definitely worth a look for anyone who has the sound of a lightsaber igniting and swinging etched into their cultural memory.(less)
After a protracted spell of buying any and all graphic novels I could get my hands on for the past seven months, I’ve finally come to my senses a litt...moreAfter a protracted spell of buying any and all graphic novels I could get my hands on for the past seven months, I’ve finally come to my senses a little bit. I now try to stick to large collections and long one-off stories, and refrain from investing in graphic novels that are under 150 pages or so unless I know I want to own it. This one falls into that latter category. I’m enough of a fan of the web series that I ordered this graphic novel simply out of loyalty. I figured it would be an extra goodie for existing fans of the Guild (and it definitely is), but this svelte three-chapter story has a fair amount of mainstream appeal, as well.
This is essentially a prequel to the first season of The Guild. It’s Cyd Sherman’s backstory; the few throwaway lines that hint at her pre-Codex days in the show are explored in full detail, here. The first chapter covers her somewhat labored relationship with her then-boyfriend and her job as a professional symphonic musician. When she discovers “The Game,” the story veers towards a surprisingly deep exploration of the balance between confronting your problems and using escapism to hide from them. Finally, the third chapter sets the stage for the characters we know and love from the web series.
Felicia Day, the creator and star of the series, also wrote this book, and it definitely shows. The graphic novel has all of the humor and charm of the series, and I could practically hear the familiar voices of the characters. In fact, I’d argue that the graphic novel is the perfect introduction to the series, and not just because it is a chronological prequel. There is plenty of video game stuff in the story, but it’s all rudimentary; the reader is learning about The Game at the same time Cyd is. Thus, the story offers a gentle learning curve into the lingo-heavy world of playing MMORPGs, and since the jokes are more centered on the real world than the game world, the less-nerdy readers have a chance to develop an appreciation for Codex and The Guild without getting buried by inside jokes.
The only problem I have with the book is with the art. The art isn’t bad, but it isn’t particularly consistent. This is especially apparent due to the different art styles for in-game and real life. When Syd takes on her Codex persona, the story switches to a slick, soft-lit fantasy look, and then returns to hand-drawn normalcy when the computer is off. The game art is actually fantastic, which calls attention to the occasional weird panel in the real-life scenes, usually due to oddly-proportioned bodies or faces. To be fair to Jim Rugg, I’d imagine that doing comic versions of real-life actors contributes to the problem. I’m normally somewhat forgiving of characters looking a little different from panel to panel, but I have a certain expectation of what Felicia Day looks like, so I can’t help but have a split-second “WHAT HAPPENED TO HER FACE?!” reaction if something is a little off on any given page.
Like I said, though, inconsistent doesn’t necessarily mean bad, especially considering that most of the art is great. In any event, the excellent writing makes it easy to forgive and forget. Overall, this is a great graphic novel, and not just for people who are already fans of the show. Comic readers who like video games and/or quirky, realistic characters should give this one a try.(less)
This kind of book is not my usual choice, but I had the good fortune to meet the authors and get an autographed advance reader’s copy. Turns out, this...moreThis kind of book is not my usual choice, but I had the good fortune to meet the authors and get an autographed advance reader’s copy. Turns out, this is right up my alley, and I just didn’t know it yet. While not particularly profound, it is a quick, smart, and satisfying read.
This book’s concept is largely unchanged from the random conversation between the authors that I’m sure it came from. It’s 1996, and Emma’s best friend Josh comes over with one of those America Online CD-ROMs we all once got in the mail and promptly put in the microwave for their pyrotechnic value. Or, you know, used them as coasters, or whatever the rest of you did with them. Anyway, as Emma prepares to venture into the Interwebs, she notices a strange blue-and-white login box, which leads her to some strange website called Facebook. Further exploration with Josh reveals what seem to be versions of themselves from fifteen years in the future, with everything one would expect from a Facebook page: photos, banal status updates and... naturally... relationship status. Suddenly endowed with the ability to know her future and take steps to change it, Emma begins fiddling with her own future based on the scraps of info she can pull from her future self’s Facebook wall. Josh, on the other hand, fears what such meddling could do to their lives, both in the future and in the here-and-now.
This book grabbed me for a very specific reason. I am 31 years old, and therefore was the exact same age as these characters at the exact time it takes place. It’s like a cultural love letter to my youth. Furthermore, I spent the nineties dealing with the unrequited love of a close friend or two (as I imagine many of you have, as well), so I found the dynamic between Emma and Josh painfully realistic. My personal biases aside, though, this is a pretty neat story. Time-travel stories are fraught with peril, in that they invite science nerds to point out everything logistically wrong with them, but this one is believable. It keeps the “how” vague, because honestly, “how” doesn’t matter. The characters matter, and this story stays focused on them, with split-perspective narration between Emma and Josh that works well and keeps the book moving. There is a strong theme of not being so caught up in tomorrow that you neglect today, but it’s a theme that is inherent and not delivered heavy-handedly. This is a book that’s easy to get caught up in; I devoured it relatively quickly.
The only problem I had with the book has to do with the same reason it resonated so easily with me. I’m not entirely sure what the audience is for this book. Because it’s marketed as YA, it has to do some heavy lifting in terms of setting. Today’s teens don’t remember the 90s, and so there are constant shoutouts to the fads and pop culture of the time. Some of this works (the music, in particular), but most of it feels awkward and gratuitous, and makes the time-travel aspect seem a little gimmicky. On the other hand, while The Future of Us is tailor-made for those of us who actually grew up in the 90s, it doesn’t quite go deep enough to tap into that thirty-something sensibility. There are a couple of great scenes in the book that show how mutable the future is, but instead of really throwing a curveball like it could have, the story ends on a tidy, sweet, and predictable note. Honestly, I think Asher and Mackler could have done a lot more with this story (with everything about it intact) if they had aimed it at adults instead of the YA market.
But for what it is, it’s fantastic. This is a quirky little romance that’s perfect for socially networked teens, and it’s a cultural paean to those of us who actually got those CD-ROMs in the mail, once upon a time.(less)
The halfway point of the Scott Pilgrim series is where things start to get a little more complex. We’re still firmly on the “beat the evil exes to dat...moreThe halfway point of the Scott Pilgrim series is where things start to get a little more complex. We’re still firmly on the “beat the evil exes to date Ramona” boss-battle rails, but in Scott Pilgrim and the Infinite Sadness, an evil ex of Scott’s shows up, as well. Despite the story getting a little deeper, I had a little more trouble getting into this one than I did the previous books.
At the end of the last volume, Ramona reveals that her next evil ex is Todd Ingram, who just happens to be the bass player for the art-rock band The Clash at Demonhead. Incidentally, that band’s frontwoman is Envy Adams, the femme fatale who broke Scott’s heart by cheating on him with Todd, sending him into the pathetic spiral of insecurity and self-pity that he’s currently trying to fight his way out of. Got all that? As it turns out, Envy’s callous toying with Scott in the previous book has a purpose. She knows all about Scott’s quest, including some mysterious information about who Ramona really is. Further, she’s determined to see that Scott fail once and for all, at the hands of her current true love.
Getting into Scott’s backstory a little more is nice. The one consistent problem I’ve had with the books so far is Scott being somewhat of an unsympathetic jackass, and so a little exploration of the relationship with Envy and what went wrong alleviated that a little. In fact, it was done in a fairly brilliant way, paralleling the “main quest.” The cool art, hilarious sarcasm, and trademark video-game chic are all still in effect, as well, making for a read that’s at least as fun as the first two.
I kind of felt that O’Malley wanted to balance the more complicated plotline with an extra helping of jaded cleverness, though, and it got on my nerves a little. The story of Scott and Envy is told in choppy flashbacks that are interspersed with the main story, and the vignettes occur literally without warning upon the turn of a page. In fact, other than some slightly different hairstyles on the characters, a page turn is the only clue that the story has shifted to a flashback, every single time. It’s disorienting the first few times it happens, and annoying every time after. I could have lived with the haughtiness of it all, but it happens just a few times too often. Too many flashbacks, too little attention to the main narrative. I also thought that the forays outside the fourth wall were a little ham-handed this time around, compared to the previous books. Tablature play-alongs and impromptu cooking shows were quirky and clever; references to “the book” and character acknowledgments of a deus ex machina are trite by comparison.
All of which is not to say I didn’t like this one. I just liked it a little less than the first two. One positive note is the strong feeling that the story is going to shift a bit, now that we’re past the midpoint. The hints about Ramona’s past are much more pointed in this volume; the next three will hopefully change things up from the current formula. Even with the little problems I had, I got the definite feeling that the overarching story is really crystallizing by this point. Best of all, it does so without losing any of the charm, humor, or ridiculous over-the-top theatrics that I liked in the first two so much.(less)
The second volume of Season 8 breaks away from the emerging threat of Twilight to focus on another returning character: Faith. Brian K. Vaughan takes...moreThe second volume of Season 8 breaks away from the emerging threat of Twilight to focus on another returning character: Faith. Brian K. Vaughan takes up the writing duties for a four-issue arc. Apparently still on her quest for redemption and self-acceptance, Faith is contacted by a similarly disenfranchised Giles and offered a deal. If she can get close to and take out a rogue Slayer that runs in British high society, he will provide her the resources to travel anywhere she wants to go in order to get away from vampires and hellmouths.
Whedon returns to write the last story in the volume, a one-shot that is almost entirely composed of foundation for future issues, with a fight scene thrown in for flavor. Buffy and Willow confront a demon to get more information on Twilight, and address some of the growing discord between the two of them. Meanwhile, the reader learns a little bit more about Dawn’s giantess predicament.
The screen-to-comic format works a lot better in this volume, and Vaughan’s writing is a match for Whedon’s. Jeanty’s illustrations still tread a nice line between photorealism and an original take on the characers. Still, this volume feels very setup-heavy. We get a little villainous monologue at the end that moves things forward, but beyond that, this volume is still in the territory of establishing characters and foreshadowing conflicts, and so I never got too worked up while reading it. Faith’s undercover mission, interplay with Gigi, and resulting alliance with Giles are all interesting, but happen very quickly. Whedon’s story at the end is diverting, but not particularly substantial.
That being said, I can see the strands being drawn together. I think that once I read the next few volumes and the main story arc finally gets going, I’ll appreciate this volume and the previous volume a little more. I’m still not particularly impressed with Season 8 as standalone stories up to this point, but I'm getting a sense of the bigger picture. (less)
This is the first book in a long while that I couldn’t put down. I had my nose stuck in it last weekend when I probably should have been playing with...moreThis is the first book in a long while that I couldn’t put down. I had my nose stuck in it last weekend when I probably should have been playing with my son, instead. I’m going to approach reviewing this book in a somewhat strange way, though. I’m going to impart how ridiculously great it is by telling you about all of its glaring problems.
For all intents and purposes, this story is a pixellated version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Wade Watts is a desperately poor young man living in a crumbling but recognizable near future. He escapes his dismal reality by spending most of his time in OASIS, a massive and popular virtual space that has replaced the Internet at large, serving both as the sole source of entertainment and as a crucial hub for every day-to-day task one could imagine. Wade is obsessed with an easter egg left by the creator of OASIS after his death, said to give untold wealth and control over OASIS itself to whomever finds it. He figures this to be an idle obsession, seeing as how he does not have the wealth to properly buff up his avatar and go searching for it in earnest. However, thanks to his detailed knowledge of 1980s culture (which the creator loved, and thus used to hide the egg), the first key to unlocking the quest falls into his lap. It is only then that he learns how high the stakes are, and what others who seek the egg are willing to do to find it.
Okay, so, let’s get this out of the way right now: from a structural standpoint, this book is a train wreck. It starts to build a world in the first few chapters, only to abandon it completely once the story gets going in favor of OASIS, where derivative settings are drawn and erased as if on a whiteboard. Almost all of the supporting characters and bit players are paper thin (Art3mis and Aech are marginal exceptions), and Wade himself is clearly a cipher. The latter half of the story is riddled with overly convenient plot devices, capped with not one deus ex machina, but at least three. One barely has to glance at this book with an editorial eye to find something gripeworthy.
Didn’t care. Not even a bit. I lost myself in this book because I realized early on that plot wasn't what I was getting out of it. This is a sprawling, thorough homage to the video games, music, movies, cartoons, and assorted nerd paraphernalia of the 1980s. Everything in this book is a setup to describe or relive some nostalgic piece of pop culture in great detail. Cline clearly loves all of this stuff as much as his characters do, and wants the reader to love it too.
So, it seems to me that enjoyment of this book hinges upon one’s own feelings about these constant shoutouts, because they aren’t in the least bit subtle. In fact, most of this homage takes the form of dense infodumps or carefully detailed tangents that don’t have anything to do with the story. If you don’t already have love in your heart for Zork and Back to the Future, you’ll quickly lose patience. If can learn to love them or do already, however, then you get scene after scene of wonder that can be enjoyed for exactly what they are. One of the blurbs on the book said something about this reading like Harry Potter, and find that incredibly appropriate. Harry Potter was the last time I had this much fun with a book.
There are a couple of other things worth mentioning. At some point early on, the book started to feel familiar. After perusing some other reviews, I finally put my finger on it: the “virtual reality” angle this book takes is a simplistic version of what a reader could find in the Otherland books by Tad Williams, or Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson. I’m okay with that, because this is an entirely different sort of book. Those books were brilliant, but they were deadly serious in their examinations of the human condition in a virtual world that users prefer to their own lives. Ready Player One makes the same point, but does it in a very basic way, almost as an afterthought. It’s the theme that serves as a backdrop to the heroic, occasionally goofy quest. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I also noticed that while the book makes a specific point of emphasizing 1980s pop culture as the subject of the hunt, I spotted a few references to some stuff from the 90s, and occasionally the 70s. They were all thematically appropriate, though. I grew up in the 80s but was a teenager in the 90s, so I appreciated the mission creep. However, I ran across more than one reviewer that pointed to this as a writing flaw that affected their enjoyment of the story.
Oh, sci-fi fandom. I love you so, you crotchety, pedantic weirdos.
I think it’s clear by this point that I am not reviewing this book in an objective fashion. It’s got its problems, I guess, but this is one of the best books I’ve read in years. It’s light-hearted, action-packed, and aimed squarely at nerds like me. It’s a literary grilled cheese sandwich: not particularly sophisticated or good for me, but comforting, satisfying, and exactly what I wanted. If you can quote Monty Python or have ever spent a quarter in a pizza parlor arcade, you need to read this book.(less)
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