Nerine Dorman's Blog, page 62
June 10, 2014
Monsters by Ilsa J Bick #review
Title:
Monsters (Book #3 of The Ashes Trilogy)
Author: Ilsa J Bick
Publisher: Quercus, 2013
While having read the preceding books in this trilogy may not be essential, as author Ilsa J Bick does provide character details in the front- and back-matter, this hefty tome as a standalone might prove daunting. We are presented with a large cast of characters, who have a lot of history behind them. Primarily, we follow the story arcs of Alex, who lives with a brain tumour; Chris, who’s got a bit of a thing for Alex; and Tom, an ex-soldier, who also has a bit of a thing for Alex. Herein lies the now almost standard love triangle in young adult fiction.
In addition to this trio, we also get glimpses of other viewpoints via the plucky little Ellie and the tragic Peter, among many others. This large cast of names and relationships is confusing at first, especially as Bick kicks off the novel with Alex’s near-drowning and dramatic rescue in a rapidly flooding mine. There’s no easing into things.
The story is as follows: A few months previous to the events in Monsters, there was a mysterious event referred to as the “Zap”. At the same time, most youngsters developed zombie-like tendencies to eat people. Cue the zombiepocalypse, and the few survivors embroiled in a desperate bid to remain uneaten and to make a life for themselves after the lights have gone out.
As if the existing Changed weren’t bad enough, Bick now introduces freaky evolved Changed, that seem to be under the control of someone who doesn’t have the Spared’s, as the survivors are known, best interests at heart.
Monsters is an ambitious work. The story might not appeal to squeamish readers as it often sinks into an orgy of violence and cannibalism that makes William Golding’s Lord of the Flies as tame as a Disney cartoon. The overarching narrative is also not easy to follow – chapters are short, often end with cliffhangers, and shift from character points of view at a dizzying frequency. Also, by the end, I was hoping for some revelation as to what caused the “Zap”, as well as the Changed, and I suppose I’ll have to keep wondering. It would have been nice to understand why the Changed had some of the characteristics that they did.
Granted, Monsters is filled with plenty of action which does build to a tension-filled conclusion, but getting there exhausted me, most likely due to having to familiarise myself with all the plot arcs and names. There is a lot going on – and you’re advised to read the entire series to get the most value out of this epic.
Author: Ilsa J Bick
Publisher: Quercus, 2013
While having read the preceding books in this trilogy may not be essential, as author Ilsa J Bick does provide character details in the front- and back-matter, this hefty tome as a standalone might prove daunting. We are presented with a large cast of characters, who have a lot of history behind them. Primarily, we follow the story arcs of Alex, who lives with a brain tumour; Chris, who’s got a bit of a thing for Alex; and Tom, an ex-soldier, who also has a bit of a thing for Alex. Herein lies the now almost standard love triangle in young adult fiction.In addition to this trio, we also get glimpses of other viewpoints via the plucky little Ellie and the tragic Peter, among many others. This large cast of names and relationships is confusing at first, especially as Bick kicks off the novel with Alex’s near-drowning and dramatic rescue in a rapidly flooding mine. There’s no easing into things.
The story is as follows: A few months previous to the events in Monsters, there was a mysterious event referred to as the “Zap”. At the same time, most youngsters developed zombie-like tendencies to eat people. Cue the zombiepocalypse, and the few survivors embroiled in a desperate bid to remain uneaten and to make a life for themselves after the lights have gone out.
As if the existing Changed weren’t bad enough, Bick now introduces freaky evolved Changed, that seem to be under the control of someone who doesn’t have the Spared’s, as the survivors are known, best interests at heart.
Monsters is an ambitious work. The story might not appeal to squeamish readers as it often sinks into an orgy of violence and cannibalism that makes William Golding’s Lord of the Flies as tame as a Disney cartoon. The overarching narrative is also not easy to follow – chapters are short, often end with cliffhangers, and shift from character points of view at a dizzying frequency. Also, by the end, I was hoping for some revelation as to what caused the “Zap”, as well as the Changed, and I suppose I’ll have to keep wondering. It would have been nice to understand why the Changed had some of the characteristics that they did.
Granted, Monsters is filled with plenty of action which does build to a tension-filled conclusion, but getting there exhausted me, most likely due to having to familiarise myself with all the plot arcs and names. There is a lot going on – and you’re advised to read the entire series to get the most value out of this epic.
June 4, 2014
The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell #review
Title:
The Hero with a Thousand Faces
Author: Joseph Campbell
Publisher: Princeton University Press, 1972
Most of the authors with whom I work end up with me telling them they should read this book. Granted, the last time I read Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces had been when I was in my late teens, so I figured now was a good a time as any to reacquaint myself with his work.
At the heart of all myths and legends, if I were to summarise Campbell’s book, lies one story, otherwise know as the Monomyth. In its most popular form, you’ll see it in episodes IV to VI of Star Wars – George Lucas was heavily influenced by Campbell.
It matters not which culture you look at, be it North American Hopi, ancient Celt, Greek, Hindu or Christian, for that matter, there are common elements present that speak to us profoundly.
This hero’s journey affects us on many levels, be it as a symbol of man’s (or woman’s) transformative journey and personal alchemy, or as in the case that I offer my authors – as a template of what makes for compelling storytelling.
This is a book that deserves a permanent place on any author’s storyteller’s shelf.
Campbell writes with warmth, great love and enthusiasm for his subject matter, drawing correspondences between different cultures with great ease and in a way that may forever alter how you perceive the stories, myths and legends that exist throughout the ages.
This is also the sort of book that you can return to time and again, in order to gain a fresh perspective to inspire you. You’ll gain an understanding that the stories that span ages and culture are timeless, and recur constantly in different guises. And I suspect that when I pick up this book in the future, I’ll find new messages that resonate with me.
Author: Joseph Campbell
Publisher: Princeton University Press, 1972
Most of the authors with whom I work end up with me telling them they should read this book. Granted, the last time I read Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces had been when I was in my late teens, so I figured now was a good a time as any to reacquaint myself with his work.At the heart of all myths and legends, if I were to summarise Campbell’s book, lies one story, otherwise know as the Monomyth. In its most popular form, you’ll see it in episodes IV to VI of Star Wars – George Lucas was heavily influenced by Campbell.
It matters not which culture you look at, be it North American Hopi, ancient Celt, Greek, Hindu or Christian, for that matter, there are common elements present that speak to us profoundly.
This hero’s journey affects us on many levels, be it as a symbol of man’s (or woman’s) transformative journey and personal alchemy, or as in the case that I offer my authors – as a template of what makes for compelling storytelling.
This is a book that deserves a permanent place on any author’s storyteller’s shelf.
Campbell writes with warmth, great love and enthusiasm for his subject matter, drawing correspondences between different cultures with great ease and in a way that may forever alter how you perceive the stories, myths and legends that exist throughout the ages.
This is also the sort of book that you can return to time and again, in order to gain a fresh perspective to inspire you. You’ll gain an understanding that the stories that span ages and culture are timeless, and recur constantly in different guises. And I suspect that when I pick up this book in the future, I’ll find new messages that resonate with me.
June 3, 2014
Tales from the Lake with Joe Mynhardt
Today Joe Mynhardt of Crystal Lake Publishing takes control of my blog, so a big, scary (and chilly) welcome to Joe!
Every now and then a book comes along that creeps the hell out of a person; a book that leaves you spellbound even days after you’ve read it. For me that book is
Tales from The Lake Vol.1
. Now you’d think that after editing and working on these stories for the last 9 months I’d be tired of them, but believe it or not, they’re still stuck in my head, whispering to me at all times of the day… and night.
I didn’t want to give too much away, but here are just a few examples:
From Tim Waggoner’s "Lover, Come Back to Me":
He didn’t want to look, but he did. Greywater Lake lived up to its name. The water was murky, but from the ripples on the surface, he thought Jan was right. Before the school of fish had stretched a couple feet from the canoe’s hull. Now it was double – no, triple that. And worse, was their canoe beginning to spin slowly in the same direction the fish were swimming?
From Elizabeth Massie’s "Don’t Look at Me":
I blink. Blurry, painful light bleeds into my eyes. I blink again and Connie comes into view.
I cringe.
She is perhaps eleven, maybe a little younger. She has thin brown hair and a thin sallow face. Bruises the shape of fingers are on her neck and there are scratches on her forehead. Her left eye is blackened.
“I see you,” I manage.
“I know,” says Connie. “Now I got to put you back. Mama said I better be down to fix supper before five o’clock. I’m going to fry some bologna.”
From Taylor Grant’s "Dead Pull":
Mackey swallowed audibly. “Rats?”
Brennan felt a quiet glee warm his heart watching Mackey’s face grow pale. “Rats, snakes, lizards… you name it. Every once in a while one escapes from their cage. The damn things are impossible to catch once they end up down here. And let me tell you… some of those bastards have gotten pretty big.”
Mackey glanced nervously at the darkened corners of the basement.
Brennan continued, “But hey, you’re good with animals, right? Ain’t nothin’ you can’t handle.”
From Bev Vincent’s "The Lady of Lost Lake":
A few moments later, I heard him dragging the canoe from the shore into the lake. This unexpected sound helped me clear my head. Crawling to the open doorway, I poked my head out into the fog-bound night just in time to see Alf paddle into the mist. The moonlight reflected around him, giving the whole scene an ethereal, transcendental look.
What others have said about Tales from The Lake Vol.1:
“The imagination and inventiveness in this anthology display a creativity and diversity of talent seldom found in such collections… This extremely neat, thoroughly edited anthology of carefully selected tales is another proud feather in the cap of Crystal Lake Publishing. For a collection of tales that will thrill, horrify, and generally captivate all readers of horror and dark fantasy, I highly recommend Tales from the Lake Vol.1 as a must-read!” – Ellen Fritz – Books4Tomorrow
“There are ghost stories, weird people of the sea, murderous toys, and super-humans, among other things. Rather than go the safe and typical route, the authors use such fantastical concepts as a starting point in exploring fears that lurk deep beneath the surface. Whatever raises the hairs on the back of your neck, or has you jumping at the slightest sound, chances are that something here will hit close to home. Tales from the Lake Vol. 1 is a collection of tales well worth diving into.” – Josh Black – Hellnotes
So dive right in… the water’s fine.
Universal Amazon Link (paperback and Kindle)
Crystal Lake Publishing (Kindle)
Smashwords (Various eBook formats)
And if my words failed to lure you in, then perhaps this will...
Happy nightmares!
Every now and then a book comes along that creeps the hell out of a person; a book that leaves you spellbound even days after you’ve read it. For me that book is
Tales from The Lake Vol.1
. Now you’d think that after editing and working on these stories for the last 9 months I’d be tired of them, but believe it or not, they’re still stuck in my head, whispering to me at all times of the day… and night.I didn’t want to give too much away, but here are just a few examples:
From Tim Waggoner’s "Lover, Come Back to Me":
He didn’t want to look, but he did. Greywater Lake lived up to its name. The water was murky, but from the ripples on the surface, he thought Jan was right. Before the school of fish had stretched a couple feet from the canoe’s hull. Now it was double – no, triple that. And worse, was their canoe beginning to spin slowly in the same direction the fish were swimming?
From Elizabeth Massie’s "Don’t Look at Me":
I blink. Blurry, painful light bleeds into my eyes. I blink again and Connie comes into view.
I cringe.
She is perhaps eleven, maybe a little younger. She has thin brown hair and a thin sallow face. Bruises the shape of fingers are on her neck and there are scratches on her forehead. Her left eye is blackened.
“I see you,” I manage.
“I know,” says Connie. “Now I got to put you back. Mama said I better be down to fix supper before five o’clock. I’m going to fry some bologna.”
From Taylor Grant’s "Dead Pull":
Mackey swallowed audibly. “Rats?”
Brennan felt a quiet glee warm his heart watching Mackey’s face grow pale. “Rats, snakes, lizards… you name it. Every once in a while one escapes from their cage. The damn things are impossible to catch once they end up down here. And let me tell you… some of those bastards have gotten pretty big.”
Mackey glanced nervously at the darkened corners of the basement.
Brennan continued, “But hey, you’re good with animals, right? Ain’t nothin’ you can’t handle.”
From Bev Vincent’s "The Lady of Lost Lake":
A few moments later, I heard him dragging the canoe from the shore into the lake. This unexpected sound helped me clear my head. Crawling to the open doorway, I poked my head out into the fog-bound night just in time to see Alf paddle into the mist. The moonlight reflected around him, giving the whole scene an ethereal, transcendental look.
What others have said about Tales from The Lake Vol.1:
“The imagination and inventiveness in this anthology display a creativity and diversity of talent seldom found in such collections… This extremely neat, thoroughly edited anthology of carefully selected tales is another proud feather in the cap of Crystal Lake Publishing. For a collection of tales that will thrill, horrify, and generally captivate all readers of horror and dark fantasy, I highly recommend Tales from the Lake Vol.1 as a must-read!” – Ellen Fritz – Books4Tomorrow
“There are ghost stories, weird people of the sea, murderous toys, and super-humans, among other things. Rather than go the safe and typical route, the authors use such fantastical concepts as a starting point in exploring fears that lurk deep beneath the surface. Whatever raises the hairs on the back of your neck, or has you jumping at the slightest sound, chances are that something here will hit close to home. Tales from the Lake Vol. 1 is a collection of tales well worth diving into.” – Josh Black – Hellnotes
So dive right in… the water’s fine.
Universal Amazon Link (paperback and Kindle)
Crystal Lake Publishing (Kindle)
Smashwords (Various eBook formats)
And if my words failed to lure you in, then perhaps this will...
Happy nightmares!
June 2, 2014
A Song of Sacrifice by Dave-Brendon de Burgh
Title:
A Song of Sacrifice (Mahaelian Chronicle 0.5)
Author: Dave-Brendon de BurghPublisher: Fox & Raven, 2014
It's always exciting when fresh faces appear in the South African genre scene, and Dave-Brendon de Burgh has definitely landed with a splash with his fantasy novel Betrayal's Shadow, which is currently available in print at Exclusive Books (useful for South African readers).
For those who'd like to dip their toes into the setting of Betrayal's Shadow, De Burgh has released a short story to whet readers' appetites. And, having started on the main course at time of writing this review, I can add that reading the short story first will definitely provide a useful framework for when you get stuck in the novel.
We join Ordaefus, one of the Elvayn race, who has inadvertently pitched his people into a conflict they cannot hope to win. Their only option is to flee their world in the massive Seed ships they hope to send to a new world.
At the heart of their problem lies a massive difference of opinion between those who Sing and those who Wield--and though he wishes to avoid war, Ordaefus must defend himself against his brother Mahaelal, who has vowed to eradicate all those who Sing.
Basically, this is an origin story, much in the same way Tolkien's Silmarillion sets the stage for The Lord of the Rings. A Song of Sacrifice provides an intriguing and enticing snippet of world building that has lured me in.
For the sake of writing a balanced review, I must mention a few of the details that bugged me. The biggest point of concern was the quantity and frequency of typographical errors, and I'd hazard to suggest that it might be a good idea to upload a revised edition of this story in the future. Also, what could be looked at is the amount of fillers--"he said", "she thought"... And so on.
Though there is a fair amount of exposition to get through, A Song of Sacrifice is nonetheless a story with a premise that is rather different from much of the fantasy fare I've encountered of late, that blends in a whiff of a SF element. I'll be watching De Burgh's career with great interest.
It's always exciting when fresh faces appear in the South African genre scene, and Dave-Brendon de Burgh has definitely landed with a splash with his fantasy novel Betrayal's Shadow, which is currently available in print at Exclusive Books (useful for South African readers).For those who'd like to dip their toes into the setting of Betrayal's Shadow, De Burgh has released a short story to whet readers' appetites. And, having started on the main course at time of writing this review, I can add that reading the short story first will definitely provide a useful framework for when you get stuck in the novel.
We join Ordaefus, one of the Elvayn race, who has inadvertently pitched his people into a conflict they cannot hope to win. Their only option is to flee their world in the massive Seed ships they hope to send to a new world.
At the heart of their problem lies a massive difference of opinion between those who Sing and those who Wield--and though he wishes to avoid war, Ordaefus must defend himself against his brother Mahaelal, who has vowed to eradicate all those who Sing.
Basically, this is an origin story, much in the same way Tolkien's Silmarillion sets the stage for The Lord of the Rings. A Song of Sacrifice provides an intriguing and enticing snippet of world building that has lured me in.
For the sake of writing a balanced review, I must mention a few of the details that bugged me. The biggest point of concern was the quantity and frequency of typographical errors, and I'd hazard to suggest that it might be a good idea to upload a revised edition of this story in the future. Also, what could be looked at is the amount of fillers--"he said", "she thought"... And so on.
Though there is a fair amount of exposition to get through, A Song of Sacrifice is nonetheless a story with a premise that is rather different from much of the fantasy fare I've encountered of late, that blends in a whiff of a SF element. I'll be watching De Burgh's career with great interest.
May 28, 2014
Famous Modern Ghost Stories #review
Title:
Famous Modern Ghost Stories
Introduced by Dorothy Scarborough
Publisher: Knickerbocker Press, 1921
It's sometimes both awesome and awful to return to the classics and see where the roots of horror lie, and this anthology is no exception. Since we live in an age where we suffer from an overabundance of information, it is far easier for authors to gain an understanding of the trends within particular genres.
Having read this collection of short fiction, I can clearly judge how the genre has grown in depth and, also, has devolved. That which is it's boon in contemporary times is also its curse. Not all stories that are released onto today's market are ready for publication.
And, likewise, looking back at the stories in this volume, not all of the tales are paragons of literary greatness. That being said, I do believe it important for us to be able to look backward and see how far we have come. The short story, as a form, is so vital to fiction, since it creates a literary snapshot of a time and place. And especially so to those who're interested in a particular era.
So, Famous Modern Ghost Stories is a bit of a mixed bag. If I'm going to be objective, I'll state flat out that some of the authors come across like people I probably wouldn't want to hang out with in present times. There were, however, a number of stories that did stand out from the pack.
"The Willows" by Algernon Blackwood deserves its place in the classics section. What starts out as a travelogue in the spirit of high adventure, quickly decays into a tense and decidedly weird and frightening dilemma. The creeping horror is not so much the supernatural phenomena, but rather Blackwood's fantastic evocation of the environment. His world building is masterful, and I got sweaty palms at the parts where the characters were in a race against nature's inexorable flow. It's man versus environment, and the realisation that there is little to separate us from complete catastrophe.
"Lazarus" by Leonid Andreyev is unrelenting in its crushing misery. To be honest, I was startled by the choice in subject matter, of taking a biblical story and subverting it so. Therein lay the horror. Sometimes the dead should remain dead.
"Ligeia" by Edgar Allan Poe, of course, is a treat in all his wonderful wordiness, followed closely by another favourite (and highly underrated) Guy de Maupassant, whose "A Ghost" is suitably atmospheric.
The majority of the other stories didn't really grab me by my short and curlies. There were even a few where I sat back and asked, "What's the point?" We really have come far with the short story as a form.
So, my advice—this slim tome will interest those who would like to dip into vintage horror for the first time or who would like to lay hands on a particular story. I certainly enjoyed this collection and feel it's a keeper that has pointed me in the direction of further reading.
Introduced by Dorothy Scarborough
Publisher: Knickerbocker Press, 1921
It's sometimes both awesome and awful to return to the classics and see where the roots of horror lie, and this anthology is no exception. Since we live in an age where we suffer from an overabundance of information, it is far easier for authors to gain an understanding of the trends within particular genres.Having read this collection of short fiction, I can clearly judge how the genre has grown in depth and, also, has devolved. That which is it's boon in contemporary times is also its curse. Not all stories that are released onto today's market are ready for publication.
And, likewise, looking back at the stories in this volume, not all of the tales are paragons of literary greatness. That being said, I do believe it important for us to be able to look backward and see how far we have come. The short story, as a form, is so vital to fiction, since it creates a literary snapshot of a time and place. And especially so to those who're interested in a particular era.
So, Famous Modern Ghost Stories is a bit of a mixed bag. If I'm going to be objective, I'll state flat out that some of the authors come across like people I probably wouldn't want to hang out with in present times. There were, however, a number of stories that did stand out from the pack.
"The Willows" by Algernon Blackwood deserves its place in the classics section. What starts out as a travelogue in the spirit of high adventure, quickly decays into a tense and decidedly weird and frightening dilemma. The creeping horror is not so much the supernatural phenomena, but rather Blackwood's fantastic evocation of the environment. His world building is masterful, and I got sweaty palms at the parts where the characters were in a race against nature's inexorable flow. It's man versus environment, and the realisation that there is little to separate us from complete catastrophe.
"Lazarus" by Leonid Andreyev is unrelenting in its crushing misery. To be honest, I was startled by the choice in subject matter, of taking a biblical story and subverting it so. Therein lay the horror. Sometimes the dead should remain dead.
"Ligeia" by Edgar Allan Poe, of course, is a treat in all his wonderful wordiness, followed closely by another favourite (and highly underrated) Guy de Maupassant, whose "A Ghost" is suitably atmospheric.
The majority of the other stories didn't really grab me by my short and curlies. There were even a few where I sat back and asked, "What's the point?" We really have come far with the short story as a form.
So, my advice—this slim tome will interest those who would like to dip into vintage horror for the first time or who would like to lay hands on a particular story. I certainly enjoyed this collection and feel it's a keeper that has pointed me in the direction of further reading.
May 27, 2014
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis #review
Title:
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (The Chronicles of Narnia #1)
Author: CS Lewis
Publisher: HarperCollins, 1950
I was about eight or nine when I first read all CS Lewis's Narnia books. If I consider the paradigm in which I lived at the time, much of the author's thematic treatments did not bother me in the least. While it has always been at the back of my mind to pick up Lewis's writing again in the future, the experience of dipping into The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was interesting...And troubling.
Much like his contemporary, JRR Tolkien, Lewis, to a degree, has been placed on a seemingly unassailable pedestal. The Narnia books are often mentioned and, as per many classics, have also spawned cinematic adaptations.
Okay, I'll admit I absolutely adored the Narnia books when I was younger. Our library at school and in Hout Bay didn't stock much fantasy for my age group, and to discover Narnia was like finding a box of chocolates when I least expected it. Talking animals, magic, supernatural creatures...and, of course, to younger self, Aslan represented an enigmatic, charismatic and utterly benevolent father figure.
When I was younger, it didn’t matter so much that there was plenty of Christian moralising in the tale—nothing contradicted what indoctrination I already received thanks to the religious instruction at school and at church.
And yes, if you've never stepped beyond that paradigm, then Lewis's Narnia books will most likely retain their childlike wonder, and perhaps not tarnish the way they have for me in adulthood.
Here I'd like to add that I feel the fault lies with the reader, and perhaps the fact that as the years have progressed, I've developed a taste for the GrimDark.
If I have to compare this book objectively to titles in the same age group that are currently available, I'd have to comment on the disconnect I felt while reading. This tale is told very much by an older person addressing younglings, and to a degree there is a fair amount of patronising apparent. Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy are placeholders rather than fully formed characters, with Edmund drawing the shortest straw when it comes to action and consequence. To be honest, they are a bit twee to me.
Then, of course, the thinly veiled Christian cosmology, executed to portray a particular mindset.
Okay, so those were the aspects that annoyed the ever-loving bantha pudu out of me. I do, however, consider that CS Lewis is very much a product of his time.
What I won't forget easily from my childhood, and of which I caught a whiff of with my reread was Lewis's wide-eyed sense of wonder. I gained the impression that Lewis really lived *in* Narnia while he wrote. His world is incredibly detailed, and though to a degree it suffers from the curse of a well-defined light vs. dark dichotomy, it is nonetheless a fantastic way to introduce the fantasy genre to children—probably best read out loud or enjoyed as an audiobook. In these situations I suspect that the story will gain so much depth.
Author: CS Lewis
Publisher: HarperCollins, 1950
I was about eight or nine when I first read all CS Lewis's Narnia books. If I consider the paradigm in which I lived at the time, much of the author's thematic treatments did not bother me in the least. While it has always been at the back of my mind to pick up Lewis's writing again in the future, the experience of dipping into The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was interesting...And troubling.Much like his contemporary, JRR Tolkien, Lewis, to a degree, has been placed on a seemingly unassailable pedestal. The Narnia books are often mentioned and, as per many classics, have also spawned cinematic adaptations.
Okay, I'll admit I absolutely adored the Narnia books when I was younger. Our library at school and in Hout Bay didn't stock much fantasy for my age group, and to discover Narnia was like finding a box of chocolates when I least expected it. Talking animals, magic, supernatural creatures...and, of course, to younger self, Aslan represented an enigmatic, charismatic and utterly benevolent father figure.
When I was younger, it didn’t matter so much that there was plenty of Christian moralising in the tale—nothing contradicted what indoctrination I already received thanks to the religious instruction at school and at church.
And yes, if you've never stepped beyond that paradigm, then Lewis's Narnia books will most likely retain their childlike wonder, and perhaps not tarnish the way they have for me in adulthood.
Here I'd like to add that I feel the fault lies with the reader, and perhaps the fact that as the years have progressed, I've developed a taste for the GrimDark.
If I have to compare this book objectively to titles in the same age group that are currently available, I'd have to comment on the disconnect I felt while reading. This tale is told very much by an older person addressing younglings, and to a degree there is a fair amount of patronising apparent. Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy are placeholders rather than fully formed characters, with Edmund drawing the shortest straw when it comes to action and consequence. To be honest, they are a bit twee to me.
Then, of course, the thinly veiled Christian cosmology, executed to portray a particular mindset.
Okay, so those were the aspects that annoyed the ever-loving bantha pudu out of me. I do, however, consider that CS Lewis is very much a product of his time.
What I won't forget easily from my childhood, and of which I caught a whiff of with my reread was Lewis's wide-eyed sense of wonder. I gained the impression that Lewis really lived *in* Narnia while he wrote. His world is incredibly detailed, and though to a degree it suffers from the curse of a well-defined light vs. dark dichotomy, it is nonetheless a fantastic way to introduce the fantasy genre to children—probably best read out loud or enjoyed as an audiobook. In these situations I suspect that the story will gain so much depth.
May 26, 2014
On the art of art, and thinking and feeling people...
No one liked Miss W when I was in primary school. She was our art teacher, and she was constantly shouting at the kids who ran in the passages and made noise. Miss W was also very strict in her class, and I don’t think many of us liked that. I mean, hell, who likes anyone cramping their style when you’re under 12?
The kids at school didn’t like me much either. Or, rather, not many of the cool kids did. The trolls. I hung out with the dregs, the handful of Afrikaans kids or the ones whose parents didn’t have much money. Oh, wait, and the two token coloured kids, because this was the early 1990s in South Africa, just when the schools were becoming open to other races. The rejects didn’t much like each other, but we didn’t hate each other either. We had very little in common except that the trolls ganged up on us. So we stuck together because at least this way no one bothered us. Safety in numbers and all that.
Looking back, I couldn’t handle being teased, which was kinda like a red flag for the trolls, who delighted in making my life miserable. I didn’t know how to react. (I laboured under the impression that if I was nice to people, they’d automatically be nice to me.) Sarcasm baffled me. Witty come-backs eluded me. So I got a reputation for roughing up the boys who tormented me. It was the only way I knew how to protect myself. My primary school years were seven years of misery, in which I escaped into art, books and music.
I digress.
There was something else. I loved art, and when Miss W spoke about how to make good art, I listened. Whenever I did art in Miss W’s class, I felt good about myself, because here was something that I could do well. Art classes were quiet, and we lost ourselves in the greasy texture of oil pastels or the smears of poster paint. No one bothered me in art class and often the kids admired my creations. Some were probably jealous, but hey, that didn’t stop my quiet swell of pride.
“Look at what Nerine did,” meant the world to me.
Later, they’d pull my hair, hide my things or they’d lift my skirt so everyone could see my knickers or laugh at my hairy legs. Or they’d gang up on me to say horrible things about me being a nerd, that I had to wear braces or that I was Afrikaans. (As if my culture or me doing well in tests somehow qualified me to be less than human.)
In hindsight, I think Miss W wasn’t very happy either. She’d had polio as a child and consequently walked with a terrible limp. Teaching art to a bunch of privileged, snotty middle class kids during the 1980s and 1990s probably hadn’t exactly been her dream job. Those little trolls would rather have been doing other things than learning about pattern, colour and composition.
I thrived, however. Miss W’s classes numbered among the bright sparks from my childhood that I’ll carry with me ’til the day I die.
“An artist is a thinking and feeling person,” she told us. Miss W wrote that on the blackboard and the words stayed there permanently.
She explained what it meant, but the trolls just sniggered. Someone passed comments on how the teacher was trying to be “all deep and stuff”.
Miss W’s words remain etched on my mind, though. I often think about them as an adult, when one of my mentors discussed how our lives should be a balance of passion and precision. How we change the world and ourselves is not an exact science. Inspiration and reason need to work hand in hand.
I keep coming back to art. Though I studied graphic design, majoring in illustration in photography, I ended up as a commercial features sub-editor at a newspaper publisher. I spend a large portion of my day worrying about fixing advertising copy and checking that clients send big-enough images. Any layout work I do is mostly template based. Not very exciting, but I earn a living, and I guess that counts for something. I find ways in my spare time to make words, music and art to get me by.
Art sustains me. It feeds my soul.
My education in graphic design gave me an appreciation for the visual arts and communication. I might not *like* certain artists or styles much, but I can appreciate them on their own merits. I admit a fondness for the Arts and Crafts movement, as well as the aesthetics of Bauhaus. I love letting “Less is more” roll off my tongue. (Thank you, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.) It’s become something of a mantra for me when I design my book covers. I’ve considered the ethics behind the hyperrealism in contemporary advertising, and how we manipulate consumers with clever words and pictures. I am passionate about good design. I love art in all its forms.
So, I admire professional artists. People whose entire lives are consumed by that which sets them apart from everyone else. Who make art and get paid to do so.
Because, once upon a time, there was a little girl sitting in art class who thought she’d one day make a living painting pictures. That she'd be an artist. Today she’s moving little blocks of text around on a white screen and positioning them with images of houses for sale. Or she aligns photos of botoxed faces with captions for society pages celebrating events she’ll never be invited to. She’s still not one of the cool kids, but can’t bring herself to care. Or rather, she realises that hanging out with the cool kids isn’t all that it’s cracked out to be, and she’s happy in her little world.
I might not *like* a professional artist’s work, but when I don’t like his or her art, I ask myself these questions: “Why don’t I like this art? What does this say about me? Do I hate his art because of my own subjective aesthetics? Or do I dislike his art because I feel that he fails to create something of objective worth?”
Art is a complex subject. You cannot please all of the viewers all of the time. (Like an author can't please all of the readers, all of the time.) More often than not, your dislike of a subject is a reflection of your Self. How you choose to respond to art shows to the rest of the world who you are.
In that, the artist is a magician, because he has held up a mirror.
Now the question is, dear reader are you a troll, or are you a thinking and feeling person?
The kids at school didn’t like me much either. Or, rather, not many of the cool kids did. The trolls. I hung out with the dregs, the handful of Afrikaans kids or the ones whose parents didn’t have much money. Oh, wait, and the two token coloured kids, because this was the early 1990s in South Africa, just when the schools were becoming open to other races. The rejects didn’t much like each other, but we didn’t hate each other either. We had very little in common except that the trolls ganged up on us. So we stuck together because at least this way no one bothered us. Safety in numbers and all that.Looking back, I couldn’t handle being teased, which was kinda like a red flag for the trolls, who delighted in making my life miserable. I didn’t know how to react. (I laboured under the impression that if I was nice to people, they’d automatically be nice to me.) Sarcasm baffled me. Witty come-backs eluded me. So I got a reputation for roughing up the boys who tormented me. It was the only way I knew how to protect myself. My primary school years were seven years of misery, in which I escaped into art, books and music.
I digress.
There was something else. I loved art, and when Miss W spoke about how to make good art, I listened. Whenever I did art in Miss W’s class, I felt good about myself, because here was something that I could do well. Art classes were quiet, and we lost ourselves in the greasy texture of oil pastels or the smears of poster paint. No one bothered me in art class and often the kids admired my creations. Some were probably jealous, but hey, that didn’t stop my quiet swell of pride.
“Look at what Nerine did,” meant the world to me.
Later, they’d pull my hair, hide my things or they’d lift my skirt so everyone could see my knickers or laugh at my hairy legs. Or they’d gang up on me to say horrible things about me being a nerd, that I had to wear braces or that I was Afrikaans. (As if my culture or me doing well in tests somehow qualified me to be less than human.)
In hindsight, I think Miss W wasn’t very happy either. She’d had polio as a child and consequently walked with a terrible limp. Teaching art to a bunch of privileged, snotty middle class kids during the 1980s and 1990s probably hadn’t exactly been her dream job. Those little trolls would rather have been doing other things than learning about pattern, colour and composition.
I thrived, however. Miss W’s classes numbered among the bright sparks from my childhood that I’ll carry with me ’til the day I die.
“An artist is a thinking and feeling person,” she told us. Miss W wrote that on the blackboard and the words stayed there permanently.
She explained what it meant, but the trolls just sniggered. Someone passed comments on how the teacher was trying to be “all deep and stuff”.
Miss W’s words remain etched on my mind, though. I often think about them as an adult, when one of my mentors discussed how our lives should be a balance of passion and precision. How we change the world and ourselves is not an exact science. Inspiration and reason need to work hand in hand.
I keep coming back to art. Though I studied graphic design, majoring in illustration in photography, I ended up as a commercial features sub-editor at a newspaper publisher. I spend a large portion of my day worrying about fixing advertising copy and checking that clients send big-enough images. Any layout work I do is mostly template based. Not very exciting, but I earn a living, and I guess that counts for something. I find ways in my spare time to make words, music and art to get me by.
Art sustains me. It feeds my soul.
My education in graphic design gave me an appreciation for the visual arts and communication. I might not *like* certain artists or styles much, but I can appreciate them on their own merits. I admit a fondness for the Arts and Crafts movement, as well as the aesthetics of Bauhaus. I love letting “Less is more” roll off my tongue. (Thank you, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.) It’s become something of a mantra for me when I design my book covers. I’ve considered the ethics behind the hyperrealism in contemporary advertising, and how we manipulate consumers with clever words and pictures. I am passionate about good design. I love art in all its forms.
So, I admire professional artists. People whose entire lives are consumed by that which sets them apart from everyone else. Who make art and get paid to do so.
Because, once upon a time, there was a little girl sitting in art class who thought she’d one day make a living painting pictures. That she'd be an artist. Today she’s moving little blocks of text around on a white screen and positioning them with images of houses for sale. Or she aligns photos of botoxed faces with captions for society pages celebrating events she’ll never be invited to. She’s still not one of the cool kids, but can’t bring herself to care. Or rather, she realises that hanging out with the cool kids isn’t all that it’s cracked out to be, and she’s happy in her little world.
I might not *like* a professional artist’s work, but when I don’t like his or her art, I ask myself these questions: “Why don’t I like this art? What does this say about me? Do I hate his art because of my own subjective aesthetics? Or do I dislike his art because I feel that he fails to create something of objective worth?”
Art is a complex subject. You cannot please all of the viewers all of the time. (Like an author can't please all of the readers, all of the time.) More often than not, your dislike of a subject is a reflection of your Self. How you choose to respond to art shows to the rest of the world who you are.
In that, the artist is a magician, because he has held up a mirror.
Now the question is, dear reader are you a troll, or are you a thinking and feeling person?
May 21, 2014
By Chance by Cat Grant #review
Title:
By Chance (Book one of the Courtland Chronicles)
Author: Cat Grant,
Publisher: Cat Grant Books, 2012
I’ve been meaning to read one of Cat Grant’s titles for simply ages now, so when I laid hands on By Chance, I grabbed it. (It’s a free read on Amazon, BTW.)
Eric Courtland has it all, except a happy home life, it would seem. Money can’t make up for the realities of a dysfunctional family and Eric has withdrawn from meaningful human interaction as much as possible. Whatever sexual encounters he has are quick, anonymous liaisons – no strings attached. He’s quite happy – or at least he thinks he is – alone in his college dorm room. One that he’s paid good money to keep without any annoying roomies.
At least that’s until Nick washes up on his doorstep due to a problem in the dormitory where he was supposed to be assigned. Eric has to share his space with this football jock, and he is beyond unhappy about this unexpected, unwanted interloper into his carefully ordered existence.
But there’s more… (Well, of course, otherwise this wouldn’t get juicy.)
Eric’s been out and proud since he was sixteen and Nick… Well, Nick’s decidedly straight (I mean, really, he’s on the football team, y’know.)
Nick’s sunny disposition thaws Eric’s glacial chill in short order, however, and it’s lovely seeing the dynamics shift as Nick pries Eric out of his shell. Nick’s ex and best friend, Ally, helps too, even though it’s clear from the outset that she’s still holding a torch for Nick. Love triangle much? But that’s okay. I feel for Ally, but she’s a good, loyal friend to Nick when he needs it, and she’s got fire enough to stand up to Eric when he’s engaging in douchebaggery.
The tension between Eric and Nick quickly heads toward the bedroom, and Nick discovers that he might not be as straight as he initially thought he was. Of course he now faces a conundrum: does he come out publicly? And Eric has his own demons to face, with his ailing mother preying on him the most.
Grant’s writing is deliciously easy to slip into, and at the time of reading, I really needed a pleasant diversion, which she supplied by the bucket load. The blossoming relationship between Eric and Nick is sweet until it hits its first, inevitable snags. Both lads need to work through their issues, but of course I won’t delve into spoiler territory suffice to say it’s satisfying to see them resolve their conflict.
By Chance is perfectly balanced – great dialogue, characters and external and internal dramas. If you’re looking for a quick m/m read, this one’s a treat.
Author: Cat Grant,
Publisher: Cat Grant Books, 2012
I’ve been meaning to read one of Cat Grant’s titles for simply ages now, so when I laid hands on By Chance, I grabbed it. (It’s a free read on Amazon, BTW.)Eric Courtland has it all, except a happy home life, it would seem. Money can’t make up for the realities of a dysfunctional family and Eric has withdrawn from meaningful human interaction as much as possible. Whatever sexual encounters he has are quick, anonymous liaisons – no strings attached. He’s quite happy – or at least he thinks he is – alone in his college dorm room. One that he’s paid good money to keep without any annoying roomies.
At least that’s until Nick washes up on his doorstep due to a problem in the dormitory where he was supposed to be assigned. Eric has to share his space with this football jock, and he is beyond unhappy about this unexpected, unwanted interloper into his carefully ordered existence.
But there’s more… (Well, of course, otherwise this wouldn’t get juicy.)
Eric’s been out and proud since he was sixteen and Nick… Well, Nick’s decidedly straight (I mean, really, he’s on the football team, y’know.)
Nick’s sunny disposition thaws Eric’s glacial chill in short order, however, and it’s lovely seeing the dynamics shift as Nick pries Eric out of his shell. Nick’s ex and best friend, Ally, helps too, even though it’s clear from the outset that she’s still holding a torch for Nick. Love triangle much? But that’s okay. I feel for Ally, but she’s a good, loyal friend to Nick when he needs it, and she’s got fire enough to stand up to Eric when he’s engaging in douchebaggery.
The tension between Eric and Nick quickly heads toward the bedroom, and Nick discovers that he might not be as straight as he initially thought he was. Of course he now faces a conundrum: does he come out publicly? And Eric has his own demons to face, with his ailing mother preying on him the most.
Grant’s writing is deliciously easy to slip into, and at the time of reading, I really needed a pleasant diversion, which she supplied by the bucket load. The blossoming relationship between Eric and Nick is sweet until it hits its first, inevitable snags. Both lads need to work through their issues, but of course I won’t delve into spoiler territory suffice to say it’s satisfying to see them resolve their conflict.
By Chance is perfectly balanced – great dialogue, characters and external and internal dramas. If you’re looking for a quick m/m read, this one’s a treat.
May 20, 2014
The Fulfilments of Fate and desire (Wraeththu #3) #review
Title:
The Fulfilments of Fate and Desire (Wraeththu #3)
Author: Storm Constantine
Publisher: Immanion Press (First published 1989)
This is the final instalment in Storm Constantine’s trilogy, and is told from Cal’s point of view, ostensibly in the form of his journal keeping while he travels. We join him in Fallsend, as far from the light of Immanion as he can get, surrounded by all the dregs of Wraeththu society, many of whom have run and can get no further. The Cal we meet here is vastly different from the Cal we got to know through Pellaz’s and Swift’s eyes.
Bitter and negative, he has very little purpose, and revels in his outcast status. He hits a nadir we could never have imagined in the preceding books, even when he murdered Orien after being driven mad by Pell’s apparent death. Though it is clear he still has feelings for Pell, he also labours under the assumption that Pell has rejected him. Thiede’s second-rate offer has also been spurned. Cal will have all of Pell, or none.
What follows is a hallmark of Constantine’s writing echoed in Sea Dragon Heir – the protagonist embarks on a quest, that changes him both physical and metaphysical levels. Cal journeys through the territories of various Wraeththu tribes and gradually heals, reclaims his power and discovers purpose, not to mention becoming entrusted with a great secret that rivals the Aghama himself. Such is Cal, an antinomian figure in Wraeththu society, always daring where others fear to tread. As much as Pellaz is the light of Wraeththu, Cal is the dark – but to reveal more is to ruin the story.
As always, Constantine envisions a remarkable setting laden with esoteric meaning and populated with fascinating characters – all combining to lay a feast for those readers who appreciate this sort of thing.
The conclusion was suitably apt, even if I personally felt that the execution came off a bit rushed – there were parts where I wanted Constantine to offer more complex layering. This being said, and when the mythos is viewed as a whole, this issue doesn’t detract from my overall enjoyment. Granted, I do feel that the writing style for book three is a bit choppy compared to the preceding two, and I’m not certain whether this was done on purpose to show how fragmented Cal had become at first.
What Constantine excels in doing is her world building, which is as always incredibly tactile. The story unfolds at a leisurely pace, and I’m pretty sure that I’ll revisit this particular trilogy some time in the future and inevitably discover other elements I did not at first consider.
Author: Storm Constantine
Publisher: Immanion Press (First published 1989)
This is the final instalment in Storm Constantine’s trilogy, and is told from Cal’s point of view, ostensibly in the form of his journal keeping while he travels. We join him in Fallsend, as far from the light of Immanion as he can get, surrounded by all the dregs of Wraeththu society, many of whom have run and can get no further. The Cal we meet here is vastly different from the Cal we got to know through Pellaz’s and Swift’s eyes.Bitter and negative, he has very little purpose, and revels in his outcast status. He hits a nadir we could never have imagined in the preceding books, even when he murdered Orien after being driven mad by Pell’s apparent death. Though it is clear he still has feelings for Pell, he also labours under the assumption that Pell has rejected him. Thiede’s second-rate offer has also been spurned. Cal will have all of Pell, or none.
What follows is a hallmark of Constantine’s writing echoed in Sea Dragon Heir – the protagonist embarks on a quest, that changes him both physical and metaphysical levels. Cal journeys through the territories of various Wraeththu tribes and gradually heals, reclaims his power and discovers purpose, not to mention becoming entrusted with a great secret that rivals the Aghama himself. Such is Cal, an antinomian figure in Wraeththu society, always daring where others fear to tread. As much as Pellaz is the light of Wraeththu, Cal is the dark – but to reveal more is to ruin the story.
As always, Constantine envisions a remarkable setting laden with esoteric meaning and populated with fascinating characters – all combining to lay a feast for those readers who appreciate this sort of thing.
The conclusion was suitably apt, even if I personally felt that the execution came off a bit rushed – there were parts where I wanted Constantine to offer more complex layering. This being said, and when the mythos is viewed as a whole, this issue doesn’t detract from my overall enjoyment. Granted, I do feel that the writing style for book three is a bit choppy compared to the preceding two, and I’m not certain whether this was done on purpose to show how fragmented Cal had become at first.
What Constantine excels in doing is her world building, which is as always incredibly tactile. The story unfolds at a leisurely pace, and I’m pretty sure that I’ll revisit this particular trilogy some time in the future and inevitably discover other elements I did not at first consider.
May 19, 2014
The Actor – in conversation with Aidan Whytock
Exciting things are happening with the homegrown film industry, and The Actor is one initiative that has drawn on local independent filmmaking talent. This feature-length film is the brainchild of actor and director Aidan Whytock, known to local audiences for his lead role in the 2013 Fleur du Cap People’s Choice award-winning production, I am Hamlet.
Whytock shares a little about how it all came together: “The idea came to me in a proper lightbulb moment. I wasn’t trying to come up with a story – it hit me while I was in the back of a friend’s car coming back from play rehearsals. Heath Ledger and his relationship with The Joker originally inspired the story. Out of respect we chose to not tell that specific tale.
“The process was surprisingly quick – I had the idea on May 10 last year and four months later we had our fifth (and final) draft. I have Colin Pegon, our frighteningly talented writer, to thank for that.
“Our strongest influences came from Oren Peli and his first film, Paranormal Activity, and spectacular characters such as Christian Bale’s Patrick Bateman in American Psycho and Edward Norton’s Aaron in Primal Fear. Oren’s work gave us a blueprint of how to create a high production value first feature without a big budget. Christian’s and Edward’s characters inspired us to dive deep into the character of our story and grip the audience from there."Not only was The Actor filmed and edited in record time, Whytock also worked on a shoestring budget, to accomplish his vision.
He adds: “We realised that we have a certain amount of creative juice on this and the longer we took, the more juice we would burn. Our approach was to leverage the inspiration and excitement we had by working quickly without sacrificing quality.
“We weren’t sure quite how much power our setup would need. So we experimented and turned on devices one by one until we found our limit. It turns out we were fine as long as we didn’t boil the kettle - luckily Cape Town has great takeaway coffee."
Independent filmmaking is not for sissies, however, and Whytock certainly did not approach production for The Actor without the right balance between passion and precision.
He cites years of dreaming as common ground. He says: “The cast and crew all have this in common – we got into the film industry because we love the art of movies. We all had a dream of making something bigger than ourselves. However it’s not an easy game and there is a lot of rejection and hearing ‘no’. After hearing ‘no’ a certain number of times it became clear that if we want to make a feature film then, well, we’ll damn well do it ourselves. So rejection, followed by resilience and stubbornness helped prepare us.”
Fans of scary movies can look forward to a dark, tense psychological thriller with horror undertones, to which Whytock adds: “Without giving too much away there is a showdown scene where Simon faces off with his dark side in the mirror. There’s a knife involved and… well. You’ll have to see who wins the argument.
“Our story is universal. Even though it’s made in South Africa you don’t have to be South African to relate to the story. It’ll appeal to anyone who likes the process of movies and is curious about what an actor goes through preparing to perform a role."
Fans and those wishing to be part of the movie-making process also have an opportunity to help out the cast and crew of The Actor.
Says Whytock: “Now that is where our supporters will make the decision. When we hit our Indiegogo fundraising target we will take the movie to the international film markets. From here we want to partner with someone who believes in it as much as we all do and take this into cinemas near you.”
In conclusion, he remains upbeat on what lies ahead for South African independent filmmaking, and adds: “Local film quality is very much touching on world quality. It’s an exciting time, especially as we service more and more international projects,” and those who're considering a career in film should, “have faith, have vision, back yourself and work damn hard.”
See the Indiegogo fundraiser, and stand a chance of getting loads of rewards.
Go check out the official trailer here.
