Julius Bailey's Blog

Unspoken Truths in the Fantasy Genre.

Who here doesn’t love the fantasy genre? (What’s that? Youdon’t? … Um, you may be following the wrong blog, sir/ma’am.) It’s got everything, doesn’t it? Heroes and villains, epic adventures, luscious romances, battles and glory; in a way, it encompasses nearly everything that entertains us. And with such a massive, widely-known, and widely loved genre as it is, at this point in its history there are, quite simply, certain unspoken (or sometimes spoken) truths and rules to it that are kind of set in stone. I’d like to take a look at a few of them today.
  
(The following truths are in no particular order.)


Despite what people say, they’re far more likely to connect with the familiar than something out of left-field.    

If it’s not broke, don’t fix it. I’ve mentioned this point briefly in another post on this blog, but it’s worth saying again. People are attracted to those things that are similar to whatever other thing they experienced that made them feel. Yes, just feel. How many of you had a favorite T.V. show that you used to watch ten to fifteen years ago that’s been long discontinued? Ever thought or remarked, Man, I really wish they would make a series like *whatever your show was*. That was a great show. But hold on! Aren’t you saying that they should *gasp* do something that’s already been done??!! What happened to making things fresh and new?? HOW COULD YOU!!!  
But, yeah, that’s exactly what you’re saying, and that’s exactly what people mean in general when they say things like “fresh and new.” At this point in time, there is literally no completely new story that anybody can tell. It will somehow at some point cross paths with another story that has already been told. All we want is for the story to be presented to us in a different way. A way that makes us feel those familiar feels that we’ve felt before, but also makes us see things from a different perspective.  
That is so largely what fantasy fans thrive on. There’re more hero-goes-on-epic-quest tales, assassin/thief-antihero tales, magical-being-and/or-told-from-the-point-of-view-of-what-are-usually-considered-bad-guys-such-as-orcs-or-whatever-serpentine-anthropomorphic-being-one-decides-to-come-up-with tales than there are realms of the earth! But so long as people get the “feels” from the story and it makes them think or see things in even a slightly different light, they’re more than happy.

Your novel ain’t no novel if it’s under 80,000 words long.    
Do you think I’m kidding? Check out this list from Goodreads of the “Best Fantasy of 2018.” (https://www.goodreads.com/choiceawards/best-fantasy-books-2018) Now click on any of those books, any of them, and check their length.  
It’s basically an unspoken rule these days that one’s fantasy book must attain unto a certain length to even be considered epic in the proper sense. This has had some interesting effects on the author’s community. On one hand, there’s a nice niche for those who prefer to keep their books to a more compact length (novellas are a big thing, you know). On the other hand, those with the pluck to find, wrangle, capture, and subdue 80,000 words or more into a single, flowing narrative find that they have attained a nod of recognition from the fantasy powers that be.  
People like novels of any length, generally speaking, but I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t a large swath of fantasy book readers that preferred novels of longer length. Personally, I think that this is due to the fact that since we read fantasy to get lost in a new and intriguing world, we want our experience in that world to be as long as entertainingly possible. Neither of my novels are below 100,000 words. But that’s not because I set out to reach a great and lofty word count, but because the story I wanted to tell required its proper space (and I haven’t heard many complaints about the length so far, just sayin’…).

Fantasy authors are almost never “normal.”

Now before anyone jumps to any conclusions here, hear me out. Name five, no, three of your favorite—key word—favorite fantasy authors. Now answer the following questions: Do they write under their own name, or a pen name? How is their biography worded? How do they present themselves in their bio photos? What are their social media accounts filled with?  
If the answers to at least two of these were unconventional ones (to say the least), then you probably see what I mean. Fantasy authors are the ones who prattle on about ancient cultures and the connections to mythic realms within real ones. Our drinks of choice are either coffee, tea, or wine (take that one to the bank). We say weird things on social media and in real life, and all our friends think we’re…let’s just say odd. But that’s just who we are. We’re the eccentric individuals in a mass of norms, and we output that in our writing. I always say to people who ask, that, “The best way to get to know me is to read my work.”  
Truthfully though, it’s our job to be weird, contemplative, disorganized, and peculiar as authors. It’s what gives us our zing. And what’s so bad about that?

Good fantasy always makes better books than movies.

This might be a hard one to accept for some people, but it is so truly the case. Good, solid fantasy, stories that pull us into new worlds that we believe in, whose characters speak with voices that we can hear, whose adventures keep us up late at night turning pages, never measure up the same way on the big screen. Why, you may ask? I’d say two reasons.   
One is that no matter how true a director tries to stay to a story, the creative license that is taken to turn a book into a workable film is always vast. As awe-inspiring and tremendously well-done as the Lord of the Rings films were (we are NOT talking about The Hobbit films), so much creative license was exercised over the source material that it’s not funny. It worked and succeeded so well, however, because the director did his best to stay true to the original story. But the changes were made, and even though most of them (most) were done for reasonable reasons, there were still a surprising number of people who actually were not happy with said changes.   
Which brings us to reason number two: No matter how well done a movie made from a novel is, it isn’t going to make you feel the same way that the novel did. Why? Because with the novel, the author guided your mind with his or her writing to see the story for yourself. All of the joys and triumphs, sorrows and failures, love, hatred, and departures with no return were seen through your own mind’s eye. With a movie, you are watching a director’s interpretation of the story. One of the greatest examples of this truth is just how many people complain at whatever actor is cast to play a main character from their favorite stories. “That’s not what Sheila Hammerfist looks like! Her hair is red, not blonde!” “Why did they cast a kid to play Kerrin? He’s seventeen in the book!” “I can’t believe the guy they chose to play Tarr the Warrior. Tarr’s got muscles on his muscles. That actor looks like he couldn’t lift a sandwich!” And so on and so forth.  
But this is one truth that I, for one, quite like. Let the books, the original creations of the authors, stand proud in the strength of their tales and love of their fans. It is the things that affect us the deepest that we remember the longest.  

Anyway, those are some of the more prominent unspoken truths and rules of the genre. Do you guys agree or disagree? And what do you think are some others?

Keep Strong!

The Coldest Heart of All (Part II)

Well, here a day after Valentine's, comes the part two and conclusion of our tale. (For those of you just joining us, drop by HERE to read part one. I think you'll like it. (Or, at least, I hope so...?))








                                               













Thus it was for many night-cloaked days.
Once a time she bore to him trays
Laden with fare and water that eased
All his hurt. Not long it was that the
Wounds that seized
His battered body slowly mended.
And the fire kept, though to its flame she
Never tended.
Nor, though her steps he saw and doings
He heard,
Unto him did she ever utter a word.

To him her silence seemed wrought in pain,
As though she knew of naught but that domain.
At last he asked: ‘Why movest thou so,
As one who sleeps,
Or one who oft lonely sits and weeps?’

She turned upon him silver eyes,
Like starlight seen through clouded skies.
“The answer to thy query I need not to show,
For ‘tis something thyself in truth doth know.
Why went you and your company out at all?
Was it not at the summoning and the call
Of thy greedy hearts that, seeking praise,
Lost thee in the wild as a fool that strays?
Thou would have done well to keep thy house. But there!
There lies all thy heart and all thy care.
Is it not vain to rise and vain to sleep?
Vain thy mind and body to keep?
Is it not vain to name aught as foul or fair?
Is it not vain to harbor a single care?
Life to death, not life to life, is the way of all.
Are not all these things in the end to thy gall?”

“But what of life?” said he aghast.
“How canst thou discount that which has not yet passed?
True, all mortals are mortal indeed.
But for this thou would loose thy bonds and be freed?
Death cometh swiftly, but while it be at bay
Should one not enjoy the sunrise of a dawning day?
Should one not share in the joy of a song?
Or even a smile to bear along?
Ah! To know faithful comrades to see one through!
To know love, blissed love, tried and true.”

Suddenly he fell silent, and she was still.
For a time naught stirred in that house on the hill
Save the fire that flared and fanned.
Soft as a whisper she out-stretched her hand,
Seeming to wish his cheek to clasp.
But when his palm found hers in soft caress a gasp
Escaped her lips, and back she drew.
Within her something stirred anew.
A feeling slow yet overpowering wormed
It’s way deeply, and there it burned.
Again she rose and again she fled,
Again left him lying upon the bed.

Still more time passed, and more strength he gained.
And he nurtured a new thought, and himself ordained
To be a light within her darkened world.
Visions new and sights that swirled
He caused to dance before her silver eyes,
For he spoke of all that under heaven lies.
Of the Springtide sun that shone with glee,
And of the white breakers of the boundless sea.
He spoke of the glades of endless flowers,
And mist of the valleys after gentle showers.
But most of all he spoke of men, whose hearts
Were not always so easily read as jottings in charts.
Yea, there were those who would destroy without cease,
But others there were also; seekers of peace.

“But what availeth all this,” she said at last,
“If, when all is spoken and done and passed,
Death awaits like a clinging net?”

He answered: “Death awaits, and none forget.
Life is as a passing mist and dew.
Yet all things in it may seem bright and new
If hearts walk together to bear on and through.
If instead of being lived by one, it is shared in love by two.”

To this she made no reply.

The day came at last, by and by,
That his wounds and weariness was healed.
With humbled heart at her feet he kneeled.
“Behold,” he said, “here is thy due,
The costly jewel that I swore to you.”
But when she reached out to take his band
He a-sudden clutched her pale hand,
And, looking into her silver eyes, declared:
“Many ways and many evils have I betimes fared,
And I perceive my suffering has been small to thine.
Therefore, do not shirk to accept this that was mine,
But I beg thee to accept yet more.
But for you I would have passed through death’s black door.
Little and small my offering may seem for its part,
Though it is the greatest thing I can give: My heart.”

She gazed on him and indeed it seemed
That in her eyes there boiled and steamed
A fierce desire, but this time true.
She looked on him with sight anew.
His tender words, his warming soul,
Warm as a glinting ember coal,
Had reached down deep and taken hold
Had wrought a wonder in her heart of cold.
Yet the availing of this was due to him only in part,
This wonder that worked within her heart.
The fire that had burned e’er since he came,
The glittering, fanning, dancing flame,
Had wrought on her also. And slow as a coming tide,
Had thawed the chill that lay inside.

Therefore, she marveled at the warmth that spread in her,
The coming of Spring to her forced Winter.
She took in her grasp his trembling hand,
Pressing thither his silver-golden band.
Then she touched his cheek in unbridled embrace,
As tears of delight bathed his shining face.

Now fate is a thing most strange indeed,
For it both caters to want and ignores need.
It is kinder than joy, the master of bliss,
And it is crueler than death’s blackened kiss.

Scarcely had she caressed his cheek
Than the support of his strengthened knees grew weak.
He quivered once, then down he fell,
Lifeless as a withered, hollow shell.
Death had locked him in its hold
From the instant he had touched her couch of cold.

And even as she stared in silent grief
At the man death had stolen as a thief,
She felt within her a subtle pain,
And her own strength began to wane.
A moment later she lay at his side,
Lifeless as the sand washed by the tide.
For death was assured to her the moment he came
And bid her rouse a warming flame.
For the power to weather such things had been lost
To she who had hemmed herself in with frost.

And there they two lay for evermore,
Corpses behind a frozen door.
For none found them, and even now none know
Whither lies that house, moon-cloaked with snow.

And thusly runs this tale of woe,
A story that a self-tortured heart did know,
When she gave of her love long ago
On an endless night of whiting glow.



Keep Strong!

The Coldest Heart of All (Part 1)

Greetings, everyone.

   So, those who know me (the number of which I hope is growing *ahem*) will know that I quite like good poetry. I am, of course, partial to the olden style of it, such things as the beauties scattered throughout the Lord of the Rings novels, some of the works of Robert Frost, and the Lays of Beleriand (a special favorite!). I am also partial to rhyming verse. I mean really; if one is going to work so hard at a language as complicated as English, one may as well exercise the full use of it. In the long labors of my own writing, and the numerous talks I've had with other writers and poets, I've come to realize that good rhyming verse, really good rhyming verse, is often much harder to produce than non-rhyming verse. In a way, you set bonds about the realm of your creativity, because you must establish a discernible flow and keep to it, you cannot continuously use the same ending words line after line, and what's more, it is often the case that the last word in a line that you really wish to jot down simply doesn't flow with the last word in the line above it! But in my humble opinion, there are few things as rewarding as sitting back and reading over a well crafted rhyming poem. It lifts the mind when read silently, and lightens the tongue when read aloud.

   I have decided to share a rhyming poem of mine with you all today. I am going to split it into two parts (did I mention that I am also a fan of lengthy poems that tell stories? Epics, some call them, but I rarely use the term.). Unlike others I've shared in the past this one does have a title. Now, beware, it's a bit long, but I put a lot of work into it, and it rhymes! (How about that?) Hope you all enjoy.


The Coldest Heart of All




                                               











Hear now a tale of woe.
A story that a heart quite old did know
When she gave of her love long ago
On an endless night of moon-swathed
snow.

A house there was upon a hill,
Which sheltered a woman most
strangely ill
Who warmed by a fire of ice and snow
In a land that was, so long ago.

Enchantment she wove about her
domain
To fend off sunlight, wind and rain,
To stay the beasts, and to keep a chill
Within this house upon a hill.
A chill that suffered no warmth of
breath,
A chill that promised naught but death
To those shrouded beneath its folds. And
so,
We shall hear what tale from long ago.

Enchantment the more this woman had,
For though in mortal form she was clad
She ensnared age, the decay of years,
And locked it in a bottle of silver tears.
And though all seasons might come and
go
Neither dim nor failing durst her eyes
grow.
Neither bent of back nor gray of hair,
But tall and slender; cold and fair.
Fair as a hilltop crowned with rain;
Fair as white mist in a darkened plain;
Fair as a stream of calming flow,
But colder than the coldest night may
grow.

Now on a night she gathered food for
meat
She heard, as it were, the sound of
faltering feet
And, turning about, she beheld a form,
Stumbling upon her hill where was no
thing warm.
‘Twas a man, haggard, grim, and worn;
In his eyes a look most forlorn.
Scarce a moment later he staggered and
fell,
As though smitten by a sudden, crippling
spell.

Then she arose and went to his side.
‘How came ye here?’ she asked. ‘By tide
Of magic? Enchantment’s grace?
Whither came ye from your own place?’
In her words was neither anger nor
scorn,
But rather likened to a murmur borne
On a wind that drifts without a care.
A wind that warmth may never share.

His eyes uplifted. He beheld her face.
‘By magic?’ said he. ‘Enchantment’s
grace?
Nay. But cut off from my company have I
been,
By a storm that ravaged, but was not
seen.
Many days have I wondered, seeking aid,
Stumbling ‘neath the trees whose casting
shade
Has hemmed me in. My hope was lost
and I was ill,
Yet from afar I descried this house and
hill.
And with the last of my strength up I
strode,
Seeing no path or walking road.
And help, most truly, I would now ask of
thee,
For death has sought, and is seeking for
me.’

‘And death shall find you,’ she,
answering, said.
‘Even here, where thou layest thine
head.’

‘Those words are cruel. Cruel indeed.
To withhold help from one in need.’

‘Perhaps,’ she said, ‘to those who know
Whither to walk and where never to go.
For none venture here and none return,
Though for warmth and day they may
ever yearn.’

‘In truth I tell you,’ he bestirringly said,
‘That when first my eyes opened, I
thought myself dead.
For I looked on a sight of beauty
unbound,
A loveliness most profound.
But your heart is cold and without
regret.
This is not the aid I thought to have met.’

‘Perhaps, perchance, but your thoughts
are not mine.
Little good will it do thee to beg and
pine.’

‘A barter then, a covenant true,
An unfaltering oath shall I swear to you.’
Then reaching weakly to his breast,
As though it were some enfolding nest,
He drew out with care a band of gold
That flared to silver in his hold.
‘Lo! My greatest treasure ever won,
Gained in battle under scorching sun.
To thee I offer it in return
For the help I asked that you did spurn.’

As she looked upon his band of shifting
hue
The desire to possess it swiftly grew.
For many things could she do with silver-
gold.
‘If in truth you make me an offer so bold
Then enter now my delicate home.
Fear no longer in pain to roam.’
Into her abode she led him by hand,
Her eyes ever lighting upon his band,
And there she tended him in his pain,
She who had nigh afore been his bane.

She laid him upon a couch of cold,
But he cried: ‘Nay! Even now the hold
Of death draws nigh.
Do not chill my blood with beguiling ply.’

‘How then shall I warm you, o weakling
dire?’

‘Bestir a flame. Rouse a fire.’

At this bidding she drew swiftly back.
‘That alone of the arts I lack.’

‘I doubt not that such a thing would be
lost
To she who hems herself in with frost.
But I cannot weather such clinging
freeze.
I shall keep my band you think to seize
If you will not hearken to me in any wise.
I shall bear it beyond the boundless
skies.’

But lust overcame her wavering.
The lust for so small and precious a
thing.
And with commanding voice but head
bowed low
She bid her fire of ice and snow
Become a flame. And a reddened flame
indeed up-started,
And from it the chill swiftly departed.
His limbs were heated, his blood was
warmed.
But in her there arose and a-sudden
stormed
An agony burning, and with it a dread.
And, raising herself, the room she fled
And afterwards returned not, save to
visit his bed
To soothe his wounds and provide water
and bread.




Keep Strong!

Dawn of Justice Review Part II

Let us commence Part II forthwith…

Now those of you who read my previous post will remember (hopefully) the reasons I outlined for Batman wanting to kill Superman. Most all of them were pretty credible given that universe and its situation. However, they are all largely overshadowed by a different reason; one that is far more “in your face” and, frankly, annoying. And that is, Batman wants to kill Superman…because Lex Luthor is leading him on!

   Now wait a minute, you might say. What’s so bad about that? Sounds like a pretty good story-line if you ask me. Well, if we were talking about the Luthor played by Clancy Brown in the Justice League cartoon of the early 2000’s, you would be totally right! But we’re not. We’re talking about Jesse Eisenberg. Uncharacteristically weird, obnoxiously quirky, and appearing to have only hit nineteen the day before his annoying speech at that gala he threw, the actor’s take on this character was anything but right. Harsh words, I know, but it’s true.

   Lex Luthor is an accomplished business man, known for his quiet ruthlessness and overwhelming superiority complex. The thing is, the Lex that we knew (as in from comics and other media) has the persona to back it up! He’s a genius, more brilliant than Batman (but in a different way), and absolutely determined in whatever goal he wishes to achieve. He’s cold and uncaring, and capable of earth-wrecking plans, while at the same time being smart to avoid certain plans that he could undertake, but would pose too much of a risk of destroying the planet. *Cough* Doomsday. *Cough* Jesse Eisenburg brings none of that into his portrayal of the character. I get that they were going for “something different,” but if that something is garbage, well, it’s garbage!

























   





















Never once at any point of the movie does it feel like this Luthor is in control of any situation. Not when it was revealed that he had been arranging all those little red notes and such to rile Batman up (really, ol’ Bruce should have considered that a bit more closely. He is the World’s Greatest Detective after all.). Not when he cheated and illegaled his way into getting a hold of General Zod’s body (that was just… How’d that random senator he was Jolly Ranchering around with even have the clearance he needed?). Not even when he kidnapped Superman’s mother and threatened to kill her if Supes didn’t fight Bats (there were so many ways out of that half-fermented pickle.). My point is, in the interest of being “different” (I guess), ol’ Zach took Superman’s arch nemeses, one of the handful of normal humans on the planet that can actually give Kal-El a problem, and allowed him to go off the rails. Luthor’s character arch is too jumbled and nonsensical throughout the entire movie. It took me watching it a couple times to even properly understand what his motivations for wanting Superman dead were. In the cartoons and comics, Lex hates Superman because one: Lex is jealous of him, of his awesome power and the fact that so many people look up to him with hope, and two: Superman was causing him trouble—exposing a plethora of Luthor’s many illegal activities and thus interfering with his businesses, foiling some of his exploits for power of his own, etc. In short, he showed Lex up to be the bad guy when, before, people had looked up to Lex. That’s understandable. That’s motivation. In Dawn of Justice, Luthor hates Superman because he doesn’t believe that Superman can be all powerful and be all good, and so wants to remove him before the “not-so-good” starts to show. (Gosh. I actually made it sound better in writing than it actually is on screen. Bad execution!)

   It’s a mistake they could actually kinda correct with a recast of the character and thus a change in tone. It would be a simple matter to do that and then bring across the sense that being in prison changed Lex, turning him into a more serious character or whatever. I’ve changed several original thoughts on this movie since I first saw it in theaters. I will never change my mind about Jesse Eisenberg’s Lex Luthor.
   
Now, about Wonder Woman….

   





















































































































That about sums her up.




Plot Holes.


So, I’ve already mentioned some plot-holes during my character analysis, but let’s see what else I can remember. (Slight (sort of) ranting ahead.)

   Metropolis and Gotham being next to one another is a thorn in my side. I know they did it so that Bruce’s story would have more weight and thus make more sense, but I don’t like it. Everybody knows that the two cities are leagues apart from one another. That’s why Bruce always plans a business trip with a private plane whenever Batman needs to go talk to Superman.

   What’s with the Gotham City Police Department and Batman’s relationship? At first it seems like they’re not on good terms, but then later in the movie Clark says something like, “The Bat’s activities are like a one-man reign of terror. And, as far as I can tell, the police are actually helping him.” Which is it?And speaking of Clark, ain’t no way that fella still has a job at the Daily Planet. He never writes what he’s supposed to, he never does any investigative journalism, and he’s NEVER AT WORK! When Superman died, nobody noticed that Clark never come back.

   So, Luthor’s plan was to pit Batman and Superman against each other, deeming that one would kill the other (and apparently never suspecting that they might become super-friends instead), but more hopefully that Batman would kill Superman? Or maybe I’m stating that wrong. Was it more that he hoped that Superman would kill Batman, and thus show the world how “evil” he really is? Has Lex not been watching the movie he’s a part of? Ninety percent of the story is about the world trying to decide whether or not they likeSuperman at all! Most people actually don’t seem to very much anyway! And so what if Supes killed the Bat? Aren’t people all afraid of him and think he’s a vampire villain anyway? Furthermore, just how much did Lex know about Batman’s capabilities? Sure, he “let” him steal the Kryptonite, but what did he expect Batman to do with it? And what if Batman had killed Superman? Who would have stopped Doomsday? The monster would have destroyed the earth! (Just terrible!) Luthor should have more foresight than that.

   Um, why is the mother of Superman working as a waitress in a diner to make ends meet? Her son could walk on the bottom of the ocean and bring up a chest of buried treasure for her. He could tunnel down in the Congo somewhere and return with pounds of pure gold. Or he could just, I don’t know, fuse some coal into diamond with his bare hands? That’s messed up. #FairpayforMartha

   And speaking of Martha, that little scene with Batman and Superman when the spear was about to fall… *Sigh* Enough people have already said everything that could be said on that, I think.

   As for their fight, if those two became buds so easily, the tussle could have been avoided as easily as…

*Superman lands* “Bruce, Luthor has my mom!”

*Batman starts* “What?”

*Superman nods, and gives a sad look (in other words, his face doesn’t change).* “I need your help to save her. Her name’s Martha and—”

*Batman shouts and disables all his weapons. He puts his hand to his ear.* “Alfred, locate Martha!”

*Alfred from communicator* “Why would you say that name, sir?”

*Batman summons the Batplane and looks at Superman* “It’s his mother’s name.”

Fight over. No problem.

   And for my last thing, how did Luthor find out who both Batman and Superman were? We have no indication of how he did so, nor is it ever explained. He just knows. How? And why wouldn’t he use that against them when he was locked up or even before? Makes no sense.

   I could go on with the plot-holes for a while, but let’s say we leave it there.

Special Effects/Visual Aesthetics.


I have largely no complaints here. For the most part, the special effects were pretty solid. Superman’s flight was displayed pretty well. It looked like he was really soaring sometimes! I know about the Doomsday/Cave troll thing that people complain about, and that’s quite fair. There is a resemblance.























   But, as far as just being a big monster for our heroes to punch around on screen, he worked…in that capacity alone. Pretty much all of Batman’s scenes were great (better than they were in Justice League, that’s for sure!). The warehouse fight scene was absolutely flawless. For those timeless seconds of thug-beatdown, he was the Batman through and through. Wonder Woman’s (five seconds?) of fighting was decent, not bad for such a limited appearance as she had. I will hand it to Zach that he does seem to know how to deal out some realistic destruction on a huge scale. I mean, how would it look in reality if there were beings of such immense power pummeling one another in downtown Manhattan? Really, if the storyline of the movie had been half as good as the action and special effects were, we would have gotten a much better film. But hey, that’s just me…


So there you have it, my review in detail. This could have been longer, but I don’t really want to go on for that long with it. Something that should here be understood is this: Despite all my complaints, I like the movie. I looked forward to it for so long. I followed every new trailer, read every interesting article leading up to its release. It was the first time that Batman and Superman shared the big screen together, and it’s forever going to be a special thing for me. I bought the two-disc edition, and I’m going to watch it (for the sixth time?) soon. It might be flawed (it is), but by golly, it’s Batman V Superman!



Keep Strong!




*Disclaimer. All books, titles, characters, character names, slogans, logos, and related indicia are trademarks of and copyright DC Comics and/or Warner Bros.

Dawn of Justice Review Part I

Greetings, merry people. Readers of this blog will remember me mentioning some time ago that I was going to do a review of the movie Dawn of Justice. I didn’t post it at once because I wanted it to be thoughtful, and I wanted to be able to get out/bring across what I wanted to convey in a proper manner. Well, I’ve been working away at it, and now present to you Part I of what will be a two-part (I think) post. It’s a little longish, but I’ve included some pics to keep you all interested. Enjoy!

Batman V Superman.

 







The title alone had folks biting their nails in unrelenting anticipation. It had never been done before. The two titans of the superhero realm coming together in a live action film! We had the surprisingly superb Batman Begins in 2005, and the rather expectedly (sorry) underwhelming Superman Returns in 2006. There was some severe speculation (and even plans, as I have been led to believe) that these movies would usher in the DCEU (DC Extended Universe) of their time. With the benefit of hindsight, I’ll say right now that it’s a good thing that that didn’t happen back then. The Dark Knight Trilogy deserved its own space and time to itself. It worked very well as a world unto itself, not really connected to the main DC universe. Bringing in the Justice League (or even just Superman, really) would have made things unnecessarily complicated, and taken away from the grandness that the Dark Knight Trilogy upheld on its own.
   But anyway, this is about the here and now, the time of Ben Affleck, Henry Cavil, and Gal Gadot. I thought a bit on how I would section this review for you guys, and I have now decided to break it up thusly: 

Story/Characters.  

Plot-holes.

Special Effects/Visual Aesthetics.

Let’s begin. 



Story/Characters.


Batman V Superman follows a seemingly straightforward storyline that follows Superman/Clark Kent as he tries to find his place among humanity and decide whether or not he ought to be Superman and save people. Batman exists in this universe, and the Dark Knight has a severe dislike for the Man of Steel, which he channels into a rage that manifests itself through his increasingly harsh actions on the streets of Gotham. Eventually, the actions of these two heroes cause them to meet for a face-off of epic proportions. God vs Man. Day vs Night etc. Also, Wonder Woman is…in the movie.
   At least, the above things (or something very close to it) are what the story is supposed to be about.
   What we actually got was something more like this…
   Superman can’t make up his mind on whether or not he should save people. Never mind that the last movie he was in (the events of which took place a little over a year the timeline of Batman V Superman begins) followed him trying to find his place in humanity and deciding whether or not he should save people, finally to realize in the end that yes, puny humans are worth saving, and even featured him going so far as to choose them over the last surviving Kryptonians. Psh! That doesn’t matter at all. Superman is having mid-life crisis, so him facing the exact same doubts and troubles as he did in his last movie (Man of Steel) for no apparent reason can fly.
   I had a problem with this. I watched Man of Steel, and it was, well, largely bland. A lot of people complained that there was just ‘too much mind-numbing action.’ To those people I say, “What Marvel movie were you watching?” Man of Steel was so starved for action, that I wouldn’t even call it an action movie! It was more like a Drama/Adventure or some other weird thing like that. We sat through 2 hours and 23 minutes of Superman trying to find himself in that film—Why in the world did Zack Snyder feel the need to subject us to the very same thing in Dawn of Justice? By this time, Superman should be a well-established hero to the world. I get that he’s a darker Superman and all (well, the recent Justice League might say otherwise) but my gosh! Would it kill Kal El to smile, put his fists on his hips, do an interview at a reputable news station??
   Which is another thing. A large part of this movie features the people of the world trying to decide whether they want Superman to save people or not. This was a far better storyline, and made a lot more sense. It’s more easily understood and relatable. Still, more than half of the animosity directed at Supes would go away if the guy just took fifteen minutes out of his not-so-busy schedule every couple weeks to smile for a news camera or help an old lady cross the street in public. The theme over him is regret that humans don’t see him in the light he represents, but he never actually does anything about it. Do an interview!






   



Then there’s Batman. Look, I’ll say from the outset that he was the best part of the movie. Hands down. 




   


Ben Affleck brought something different to the Caped Crusader, and, whether you liked it or not, it worked for its setting (mostly). He’s older, battered, scarred, more reclusive and less malleable. It worked. One of the problems here is that there’s not enough of him in the movie, which is a shame because Bruce Wayne really takes up the majority of screen time. The movie even opens with him. Bruce, having witnessed the power and destruction that Kryptonians are capable of, thinks the world doesn’t need Superman. In fact, he thinks someone should kill him. He thinks Batman should kill him.
   Now, let me say this: It took me watching the film more than once to fully understand Bruce’s hatred for Superman. At first, it didn’t really make sense, but it does once you understand it. I mean, Batman has been fighting criminals in Gotham for twenty years in this universe. He’s been a superhero for twenty years, relying solely on his wit, grit, and determination (and Alfred). He’s suffered loss and heartache, and no small amount of bodily harm. Suddenly, along comes Zod and his insurgents, Superman appears, and everything changes. I mean, people in the here and now are upset that the government is potentially spying on them through their cell phones. How upset would they be if there was some all-powerful super guy that answered to no authority, who flew around all the time with a terrible frown, broke all manner of international laws, and didn’t care a thing about it? Furthermore, despite the fact that Superman is totally wrapped up in his own doubts over whether or not he should save people, he’s also, apparently, obsessed with Batman. How dare this person over in Gotham break the law to save people? Who does he think he is? Never mind that there’s a giant Bat Signal on the top of the Gotham City Police Department. Never mind that while old Supes was still hitchhiking across the country and destroying people’s semi-trucks, Batman was stopping Joker from gassing Gotham City Hall. He brands people. That equals bad. I, the great doubtful Superman, should shut down his operation because some random person keeps sending me little red notes. Seriously??!!























































href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Bw0pEqk-2...



















   What’s wrong with you, Superman? This was a bad plot device, because it didn’t make any sense. Superman needs to get his own act together before he goes and tries to forcibly fix somebody else’s. (Maybe he is evil after all.) I mean, in one scene, there’s this car chase, a pretty good one that showcases Batman’s driving skills and total disregard for the lives of thugs. Batman gets Lex Luthor’s (more on him later) thugs pretty much cornered (and they were doing illegal things, mind you), and, suddenly, Superman swoops down, bashes Batman’s Batmobile, rips the doors off, and then has the cheek to command him to stop being Batman. How dare you, Superman!! How. Dare. You.
   So yeah, Batman’s hatred of him was totally justified.
   What I didn’t like was that this version of Batman seemed a little less than bright. I mean, he’s the World’s Greatest Detective. He ought to have been more brainy. Brainy guys don’t shoot trackers the size of footballs onto the vehicles of the thugs they want to follow. Brainy guys don’t go down into the underworld of Gotham to pretend to watch a boxing match (while actually watching a thug) dressed in the plain, everyday face and clothes of one of the wealthiest men in Gotham . And above all, brainy men don’t allow themselves to be manipulated by any character played by Jesse Eisenberg.
   So, anyway, after a long (too long) time of these two going about their dark and broody lives, Superman finally decides that Batman should stop being Batman (hence that scene I mentioned earlier) and with that last straw, Batman decides to kill Superman.
 





   



And in this spot, we’ll cut this post, as I do not wish it to grow to a ridiculous length, and also because I want to save some things for Part II (I’m talking about you, Lex). What do you guys think? Agree with my points? Disagree? Liked the movie? Hated it? Somewhere in between? Let me know.


 

Keep Strong!




*Disclaimer. All books, titles, characters, character names, slogans, logos, and related indicia are trademarks of and copyright DC Comics and/or Warner Bros.

Is It Truly Love?

So can we just stop with the meaningless romance that seems to have invaded every sub-genre of fiction now in existence?      
What? Who doesn’t love a good love story? I’m glad you asked, because the truth of the matter is (and it might be a little hard to swallow) a surprising amount of people don’t like love stories! These peculiar individuals live among us, going about their day-to-day lives, yet becoming increasingly frustrated with the worthless cuddles and feels that so many writers feel the need to inject into an otherwise decent (unless, of course, it was already bad) story! (Before we go any further, it must here be stated that I neither claim to be nor deny to be one of these individuals. And I will furthermore say that I liked the story of Aragorn and Arwen, didn’t mind the puppy love of Meg Murry and Calvin O’Keefe (FROM THE BOOK, NOT THE MOVIE), and am quite fond of a certain short-story titled “They Met Under the Glinting Stars” (ahem). Now then…)       

There is a set of people who are tired of the stupid, senseless, and totally unrelatable “love” that has managed to seep into almost every story —books and movies alike. It’s no secret that this is basically all that the YA genre is now. (To those worthy authors out there who still write good YA, I mean you no disrespect, but know that you are in a minority.) From the idiotic half-crush half-WHAT? of books like “Uglies” (good gosh!), to the sudden and absolutely unformulaic “romance” found in “Avengers: Age of Ultron,” to the literal eye-burning attempted cliché-bender in “The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug” and “The Battle of Five Armies.” What is wrong with the world?? What happened to romance that built naturally between the characters, that was understandable, that was relatable? What good is a cliché bender if it’s rubbish? What good is a kiss snatched under the moonlight if the readers or audience are just left rolling their eyes?      
I fear that we, as a society, have lost touch—or perhaps patience—with true love. Wow. That sounds really bad, but humor me. How many books or movies that were written or produced within the last five years do you remember to have told a true, a natural, and really relatable love story? Lots of folks are tired of the same old, “hateful-and-petulant-and-selfish-and-under-eighteen-year-old-girl catches the eye of dark-or-green-eyed-muscle-bound-but-quiet-and-secretive-probably-troubled-and-also-under-eighteen-years-old-guy, they both meet in an academy or something, exchange a couple sentences, and three chapters down the road they both just totally neeeeed each other.” Enough!
  
Now in the interest of ensuring that this post is informative—instead of just, I don’t know, some kind of unhinged rant—I would like to list a couple (or maybe three) things that matter, ACTUALLY MATTER, when putting romance into a story. 


#1. Romance can’t be forced.   
Sounds like a no-brainer. But seriously, people need to stop thinking that it’s daring to just shove two characters who have no chemistry whatsoever together because…plot. It’s not daring, it’s annoying and unbelievable.


#2. It has to be both relatable and realistic.    Do you remember the names of all those lovers and such that the Greek and Roman gods had? Of course you don’t, because who cares about the love-lives of the Greek and Roman gods?! In order to appreciate romance between your characters, your audience/readers must first feel for the characters themselves, and then be able to imagine themselves or someone they know in the situation you’re presenting, or at least believe in total absolution that your characters really are in love and not just smooching because…plot.


#3. A hateful character, or a character that doesn’t belong where they are, always ruins the feels. Always.   I don’t think I really need to go into this one all that much. Suffice it to say that there is a certain red-headed elf that appeared in a certain movie concerning a certain hobbit whose presence therein—and lack thereof in later installments—can never be either explained, nor forgiven. I mean it.



And that’s all I have to say on that for now. Maybe somebody will actually briefly consider what I had to say (ha!), or maybe not. But I said it, and even as true love doesn’t repent over its existence, neither shall I repent over these words. But I’d like to know what you guys think. Let me know!





Keep Strong!

AT LONG LAST!!

Days went by; I labored long. Weeks became months; still I labored. Months stacked into years; I labored the quicker.

   Now at last, at long, long last, I have done it. I have finished it. I HAVE DELIVERED.


TOILS OF THE VALIANTBOOK TWO OF THE CHRONICLES OF VRANDALIN








The epic conclusion to the widely-loved adventure of Strife of the Mighty! 

DOOM COMES. FAITH WAVERS. HOPE HANGS IN THE BALANCE. 
The battle for Darfrandor is over, but there is neither time nor mood for celebration. Having received word of the approaching power of the Dread Palace, time is yet again in short supply for Brandegan, Allon, and Merch—and all of Vrandalin with them. 
Heeding lessons learned from before and during the battle with the Morkathleam, Brandegan decides to leave Darfrandor without delay. Though he renders a stark warning to the people of the capital that there can be no victory in the fight against Ezirg Haur without the intervention of the Ayestærè, he begins to feel in his heart that the Vellneranians will never again have faith. Urging them to flee south on a desperate journey to Krandarmain Ilse, he leaves them to their choice. Yet the journey south will present Brandegan himself with hard choices to grapple, and force the silver-haired man to confront not only perils of the future, but burdens of the past. 
For Allon Bracken, the way forward seems both clear and clouded. His will knows that he is not the same man that fled Varalel, yet his heart will soon discover that some wounds remain tender long. He must come to terms with both shortly, for in this time of final deeds, the hurting and the lost, the fearful and the hopeless, commoner and noble alike, will need someone to lead them. 
As for Merch Provender, his difficulties come in many forms. From the worry over his home village, to the increasingly constant necessity to kill or be killed…to the often withheld thoughts and feelings of a new traveling companion. Yet all these difficulties must be overcome, for the clock is counting, and ale won’t last forever. 
But for Parma the healer, leagues to the south in the proud city of Mariz, darkness has already arrived. Only newly loosening the grip of cold policies enacted against the southeasterners by Governor Parfidy, she is forced to push back against the malice of mysterious bandits who threaten the lives of those she protects. But in doing so she discovers a sinister plot against Mariz itself, and soon finds herself fighting the ghosts and foes from a past wrought with heartache. It will cost her bitterly. 
Sacrifices are made, bonds are broken, and the powers of the realm are shaken in this kingdom-rending conclusion to the tale that began in Strife of the Mighty. Let the faithful keep strong.


*Sniffle* It's so beautiful....
   You guys have waited long for this one, and so have I! As promised, the tale that began in Strife of the Mighty concludes here...whether in good or evil. I did not split up the story into a trilogy. To celebrate this momentous occasion, I'm putting the Kindle versions of both Toils of the Valiant and Strife of the Mighty on sale for $0.99! To grab your copy of Toils of the Valiant click here! (Or here, if you prefer paperback.) To grab Strife of the Mighty, click here! (Here for paperback.)
   Thank you all for bearing with me through all of this. I strove extra hard to make the story extra gripping, extra meaningful, and extra awesome! Tell me what you think! 
Oh, almost forgot: I've released a new design in the Lael Marketplace!  Check out A Wilder Shape! This particular design was wrought especially for Toils of the Valiant. (And yes, it comes in men's styles, too.) I'm working very hard for you guys (really). 
Happy reading! Happy wearing!

Keep Strong!

Contest Winners!

Hey, everybody.

   So, as you all know, I recently held a contest to celebrate the opening of my new t-shirt shop. Well, today we announce those lucky three! Thanks to all who entered!





Coming in at third place is........... Barri!





























Coming in at second place is...........April Turner!!






And taking home the first place grand prize.............Christian Calhoun from Oklahoma!



Let's hear it for our winners! Information for prize collection will be sent out shortly. Thanks again to all who entered.

Keep Strong!

Surprise! (And a contest!)

Ahoy, ahoy! Right, so, if folks have been paying attention to some of my previous posts and tweets (wait, you haven't?.....) then they'll know that I've been saying that I'd have some surprises for everyone early this year. Well, I'm here to deliver them! I'll get right to it:

   #1.   Book two of the Chronicles of Vrandalin is finished and as we speak going through editing. Things were pretty tight with this one, so that shouldn't be too long a process. I know that its completion was later than expected (I'm sorry, alright!), but believe me when I say that I have gone above and beyond to tell (and conclude) an engaging, heart-pulling, originally designed story. The wait is nearly over.

   #2.   This one's a biggie. (Well, to me it is.) Here goes-- I have just opened *drum-roll* my very own T-shirt shop! Yup. Complete with totally original and eye-catching designs wrought with Vrandalin (and the world of Lael) in mind! I'm rather proud of this achievement, and I hope that you guys will drop by and give it a look here (in case you missed the first link).  Now, there are a couple things to note: Right now, if you drop by and order a shirt, you'll get FREE shipping with the code FS18. The free shipping promotion only lasts for a few short days, so if you're interested now's the time! The other thing to note is.... Well, that fits into my other surprise. But first, here're a couple pictures of a couple of my designs!

























































Huh! Huh! First off, I just want you all to know that these models were hard to get a hold of. They were all booked up till summer, and I had to call in a favor. Professionalism and good looks are in high demand! Secondly, these are only three of my designs, but there are more to choose from, and the shirts are available in multiple different styles and colors, long-sleeved or hoodie, so yeah. Now, for my last announcement.


#3.   I'm hosting a contest! Yes, sir (or ma'am) a contest! Here's what's up for grabs: One first place winner will receive a signed, paperback copy of both Strife of the Mighty, and the soon to be released sequel thereof! One second place winner will receive a mystery t-shirt, the design of which was wrought especially for the second book! And one third place winner will receive an ebook copy of the sequel to Strife of the Mighty. Sounds good? (Wait, did you just say no?) Okay, here's what you have to do to enter: Drop by my t-shirt shop and grab yourself a shirt sporting your favorite of the designs listed (remember, shipping is free for the next few days with the code FS18). When your shirt arrives, snap a photo of you (or it can even be of a friend if you're camera shy) wearing your new garb, and send the photo to juliusb333@gmail.com. What I'll need from you in the email is the following:
   #1. Name of entrant (and state of residence, if you want).   #2. Permission to post and/or feature your photo on this blog, my Twitter, and/or Facebook.   #3. Your shirt size.
   That's it! If you're a winner, you'll receive an email of congratulations, along with a request for the address you would like your books or shirt to be shipped to. The most important thing with this contest is to have fun and be creative! Entries will be judged based on their artistic expression. If your photo doesn't show your face that's fine. If you're doing a hand-stand, that's fine. If you're sipping coffee in front of a wall made of noodles, that's fine. Snap with your own artistic eye. And have fun with it! The contest is open today, and submissions will be accepted through 4/29/18. Winners will be announced by 5/7/18.
   Well, that's all for now.


Keep Strong!




An earlier version of this post incorrectly stated that the second and third place

winners would each receive a mystery t-shirt and an ebook, when in fact the prize

for second place is the mystery t-shirt, and the prize for third place was the ebook.

A correction has since been made.

Fantasy Stereotyped

I know, I know, this might rub a few people the wrong way, and for that I’m sorry (I guess), but it’s something I’ve kinda been thinking about both previously and lately. So here goes:
 
    Fantasy is great, ain’t it? Ain’t it grand? The wondrous escape that it provides to our desiring psyches, while at the same time (if done well) presenting viewpoints and/or troubles that we face and question in our own world in a thought-provoking manner, simply can’t be beat. So many, many, many (many many many) different fantasy tales have been written and told through the passing of the years, that it is truly impossible to keep track of them all. However, all follow a common thread or two—or five or six, depending on the author. This is all well and good; I mean, after all, there’s nothing new under the sun, right? But (there’s that word again) there is something—one of the threads I mentioned, if you will—that rather bugs me from time to time: The generic uses of certain fantasy races along with the “stereotypical” actions and attitudes thereof.
 
   What do I mean, you ask? I mean that so many people who write fantasy often—not always, but often—conform the races that inhabit their worlds to the usual depiction. For instance, elves are likely hands-down the most often used race (besides humans) in fantasy tales. How many books have you read wherein the elves that were part of the story were physically superior to humans, so veeerrryyy much more beautiful and elegant than humans, and so much wiser and more skilled in magic than humans? More often than you can remember, I doubt not.
 
   This is great for some stories, and even more than some if the story is still good enough, but when this becomes the norm, the allure of having a new race involved in your story is diminished almost at once. Just how many times are we gonna read the wise elf—always older than our protagonist (and more beautiful)—lecture and lecture about how violent and uncouth humans are, while simultaneously doing a backflip and firing four arrows off a longbow??!! This kind of thing gets repetitive, and done without or with little skill, it’s just downright annoying.
 
   Obviously, it is no small thing to stand out and be separate from the crowd, yet this is what needs to happen more regularly in fantasy with regards to fantasy races. Now, there are some folks who have done some interesting things and broken off the beaten path; in my experience, it seems to be indies who do it most. To my most recent memory, author Michael J. Sullivan had what I thought was a most welcome original concept for the elves in his story. (I know that there are others, people, he’s just the one I could readily remember.) His elves were not as strong and beautiful as elves so often are, and they were, get this, slaves to the uncouth humans of the land for some time. A nice historical background that was. By the way, now might be a good spot to mention that it isn’t elves alone who fall victim to this problem. Dwarves, dragons, gnomes (meh), and, yes, even humans, have, and are still being, what I like to call fantasy-stereotyped. (That is now copyrighted. You can’t have it.)
 
   My fellow authors, it is a struggle to be original, yet it is our lot to struggle to be as original as we can be nonetheless. You know, there was a time that I thought that fantasy writers should just ease up on using elves and dragons and dwarves for a while altogether. Give them a break and use humans or something else. Yet I have since progressed to the reality that, while it still might be a good idea to give these creatures (especially those pretty-pretty elves) a break, it is not necessarily necessary. Just use them originally. It doesn’t even have to be totally originally, just make them different somehow. Make their ears point downward instead of upward, give them dark skin (and not just so that it can make them an outcast/oddity to the other elves), make them mutate into four-foot tall frogs with rabbit ears whenever they eat the peanut-butter soup of our protagonist. Just do something different that will stand out to the reader. You don’t know how huge a favor you’ll be doing to your readers, and to all elves, dragons, dwarves, gnomes, and other victims of fantasy-stereotype out there.



Keep Strong!