Ken Lizzi's Blog, page 60

The White Hills of Elfland

Snow both physically alters landscapes and creates illusory geography. The familiar, quotidian view out your window becomes something altogether new and different after even a moderate snowfall. It’s not all wondrous fairyscapes: the roadside landscape, with its new allotment of crashed and disable cars is a reminder that the temporary physical and illusory alterations come with hidden dangers. I think both Tolkien and Lord Dunsany would appreciate that.

Snow also brings joy to children, joy generally requiring a degree of physical effort on behalf of adults. I walked the HA across the street to the park for an hour of sledding, then became a two-legged sled dog for the ride back home. That was followed by shoveling (continued later by MBW with perhaps an excess of zeal — rest the back, sweetheart) and construction of a snowman. Or, rather, a snow family.

The forecast calls for more of the white stuff. I’m not laying good odds on the HA attending her pre-Kindergarten classes any of the next couple of days. And I’ll have to see how my commute looks. With all wheel drive I’m comfortable on the roads. What worries me is other, less comfortable, people sharing those same roads. I don’t want to end up an object lessons of the malefic side of Elfland.

New Shelf Space

With any luck on eBay I’ll be opening up a stretch of space on one my bookshelves. Fingers crossed.

It has taken me a number of years, but at last I collected a complete run of all eighteen Horseclans novels. Why? A legitimate question. Primarily because I am a stubborn completist. The same reason I kept reading the Wheel of Time novels. I started the series, damn it, and I’m going to finish it.

Now, generally speaking I keep books. I re-read certain books from time-to-time. If I sell a book then, if the whim struck me, I wouldn’t be able to pluck it from the shelf and read it again. But I’m not going to read Horseclans again. For those of you who like the series, that’s fine. I won’t tell you your appreciation of something is invalid. This isn’t the place to go into what I find the shortcomings of the books, writing, characters, dialogue, jeremiads, etc. Robert Adams possessed certain strengths, ably describing weapons and armor and writing battle scenes. The Horseclans novels are at their best when the story focused on armed conflict. So I got some entertainment value from the books, but not enough to merit a re-read.

Assuming I can find a buyer, the absence of eighteen paperbacks — albeit slim volumes by today’s standards — will clear up a nice stretch of space. And that means I’ll get to fill it again. I’m looking forward to it.

Work in Progress Status Update

It ought to be clear by this point that I will not have a book out in January. We can all agree on that, right? So, how do matters stand on the writing front? Let me tell you.

At the pace I’m writing, the first draft of Warlord should be complete by the end of February. The editor has assured me that he will have finished reading Boss and provide me comments by March. That should allow me to complete the final polish on Boss, then move directly on to the second draft of both Captain and Warlord, back to back.

I don’t know what the current publishing plan is, but if I am able to proceed as described in the paragraph above multiple drafts and a polish should be finished by about May. That means a summer publication date is feasible, though if I were a betting man my money would be on the fall, to allow time for cover art, blurbs, marketing, etc.

And that’s okay. I’d really hoped to have Boss out by now, but I’m not the sort of person who remains disappointed for long. So, if any of you reading this are looking forward to this series, hang in there a little bit longer. I’m working on it. Six days a week I’m working on it, and the end is in sight.

Recent Reading

“What have you been reading?” the imaginary voices in my head — those of the imagined readers of this web log — ask.

Well, I’ll tell you, phantoms and figments.

As usual I have several books going at any given time, books for different locations and portions of my day. Some I finish faster than others, with more time to devote to reading. Some I won’t mention here because I’m still working on them.

I finished “Retief at Large,” a collection of several of Keith Laumer’s stories of James Retief of the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne, Earth’s diplomatic service. Think swinging sixty’s era James Bond if he worked for the U.S. State Department instead of the British Secret Service. These are humorous, satirical stories of greedy, career-minded diplomats, a vast cast of alien species as stand-ins for Earth cultures (the Groaci — five-eyed, spindly-legged aliens — making frequent appearances as the Soviet analog), corruption, super-power competition, etc. Fun stuff. I enjoyed it.

I read a novelization of the old TV show “The Rat Patrol.” It had been sitting on my shelf for years. I don’t know where I picked it up. But it was a decent WWII romp, even knowing which characters would survive and which were introduced only to be sacrificed at intervals.

At long last I got around to “Tropic of Cancer.” Not for me. I have no philosophical objection to unsavory narrators. But the entire book is filled with nothing but unsavory characters. I recognize the skill and artistry that went into the novel, okay? I can appreciate a thing without enjoying it. Let me leave it at that.

I’ve been re-reading Patrick O’Brian’s novels of Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin. What a wonderful contrast with “Tropic of Cancer.” O’Brian deals with the human condition at least as well as Henry James; better, in my opinion, which is the only one I’m much concerned with. And his characters, human and flawed as they are, don’t revolt me.

I read Greg Bear’s “City at the End of Time.” This is science-fiction at the bleeding edge, a novel of theoretical quantum physics, Buddhist and Hindu cosmology, causality, and consciousness. And probably lots of other things that I failed to notice. It is an absorbing, intriguing book, chock-a-block with ideas that are doled out artfully, the narration leaping back and forth across eons, maintaining mystery and the reader’s interest. I think the ending could have used a few more pages, but then again a neatly tied-up ending wouldn’t have fit well, I suppose.

And I finished the latest of the Steven Brust’s Vlad Taltos novels, “Vallista.” It’s always nice to encounter Vlad again. But I couldn’t help but get the impression that Brust is getting tired of him. This one felt like he was going through the motions; that with two more novels to go, he just wants to wrap things up. The first-person smart-assery that I expect is there, but is seems perfunctory. The mystery/time-travel aspects didn’t much interest me. If feels that Mr. Brust is trying to finally flesh out his fictional universe’s backstory. Whether this was planned all along, or Mr. Brust feels the need to establish an internally consistent grounding for all the magical doings of the last fifteen novels (and the half-dozen or so related novels) is beyond my knowledge. But I don’t think it is either necessary or advisable. An aura of mystery should obtain to magic. Explaining too much dilutes the sense of wonder that should suffuse a good fantasy yarn.

Believe it or not, I’ve gotten through more, but I think I’ve rambled on long enough for one day.

Tolkien Birthday Celebration 2019

January rolled around again and with it came another opportunity to celebrate the birthday of J.R.R. Tolkien at the Kennedy School. The event added a new wrinkle this year with a room dedicated to Lord of the Rings tabletop games. I hadn’t realized there were so many of them. I’d be tempted to give the game room a shot next year if unaccompanied. However I’m rather certain the HA wouldn’t have the patience for it.

MBW was feeling under the weather so did not attend this year’s festivities. The HA held up rather well, especially once she noted how many other children roamed the halls, some of whom were happy to play with her. At five years of age she is beginning to show some interest in the unusual doings, the costumes, etc. Perhaps I should begin reading her The Hobbit once she turns six. Her favorite cartoon fair consists of unicorns, mermaids, elves, and fairies. A hobbit who lives in hole in the ground shouldn’t prove much of a stretch.

She got a kick out of the costume contest, insisting we stay long enough to see who won. Her favorite did not, but she took the loss well. It wouldn’t surprise me if she expressed an interest next year in entering the competition the following year. If so, I rather think I’d wish for a child’s porous memory to work its magic. I’m not a costume kind of guy, neither in the design/construction aspect nor the wearing thereof.

Tolkien still holds up for me. I’m in the midst of another re-read, having picked up LOTR for the book I read while waiting for the HA to fall asleep. At a few pages a night it is slow going. Last night I plunged into Helm’s Deep. But even in small doses, Tolkien continues to deliver. After all these years I’m still noticing new details (or noticing old details I’ve forgotten in my dotage.)

So, Happy Birthday, professor. And thank you. Soon enough, the HA will thank you as well.

Appendix N: Stanley Weinbaum’s Bizarre Bestiary

Stanley G. Weinbaum tantalizes we later generations. What else could his fertile mind produced had cancer not taken him at the age of 33?

Weinbaum’s enshrinement in Appendix N is another head-scratcher for those who remain incredulous that Dungeons and Dragons’ influences include science fiction. Pick up a Weinbaum collection and there’s nary a wizard or sword-swinging barbarian to be found. His noteworthy output is science fiction and, generally speaking, not soft science fiction, not Burroughs-esque sword and raygun sci-fi.

Though Weinbaum’s degree was in Chemical Engineering, he seems to have had a passion for biology. Bizarre, alien life forms and wild permutations and mutations infuse his writing. Therein, I speculate, lay Gary Gygax’s interest. A reader of Weinbaum’s can glean all manner of foes to bedevil adventurers beyond the usual run of orcs and dragons.

Gygax would certainly have been familiar with A Martian Odyssey, Weinbaum’s masterpiece and most famous story. I’m not going to rehash the extensive influence of this story. A writer who has influenced Bugs Bunny cartoons requires no further boost from me. But perhaps it was Weinbaum’s creepy, intelligent plants that inspired Gygax the most. Perhaps the inscrutable, alien motivations of many of Weinbaum’s creations intrigued him as well: how do adventurers deal with menaces that are not driven by familiar desires and needs?

Stanley G. Weinbaum may be in danger of slipping into obscurity. If you haven’t already given his stuff a read, do yourself and his legacy a favor: pick up a collection. Enjoy the strange trip, then wonder what might have been.

2018 New Year’s Eve Post

The Snow Family

The Web Log wishes you and yours a Happy New Year. Despite a dearth of publication, 2018 was a good year for me. I hope yours suited you. 2019 looks promising, especially as far a publication is concerned. I will keep you updated.

Enough talk. Enough writing (except of course for tomorrow; I must get in my word count before the Bowl Game. But other than that, enough writing for 2018.)

Those of you who stay up late enough to watch the ball drop, have a good time. For the rest of us, may our neighbors keep the noise down and let us get some rest.

Too Late Movie Reviews: The Tiresome Series Continues

MBW and the HA flew to Mexico several days ago. I will join them briefly for Christmas before flying back. Oh, what joy, flying on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day, two of the most relaxing travel days of the year. But what this enforced solitude at home means for purposes of this web log is that I caught up on several movies many of you saw months ago.

Time, then, once again for me to provide my pointlessly late opinions.

First up we have Ready Player One. I wished to see this solely in order to watch the Tomb of Horrors scene. It soon appeared that that part of the book did not make it into the script. Though there was an Easter egg reference to it in the form of a graphic on the back of a van later on in the film. My goodwill, however, is not so readily purchased. The virtue, such as it is, of the novel is the borderline fanatical concentration of eighties nostalgia. The film makers, wisely I suppose, endeavored to broaden the appeal by seeding the movie with a wider range of pop culture ephemera. I could see myself watching the movie frame by frame to catalog all the cameos I could recognize: that is, I could see myself doing this had Ready Player One been a better movie. As it is, I can’t see myself watching it again. The cast is generally bland. The story is even less interesting than the novel’s thin plot: of course that is generally inevitable when adapting a long form work such as a novel into a the compressed duration of a film.

Positives? The effects are generally top notch, and the action, though perforce video-gamish, is fun enough. There, I said something nice.

Second was Deadpool 2. Heh-heh. As I near fifty years of age I am relieved to discover fifteen-year old Ken is still alive and well. I will say Deadpool 2 adhered a trifle more to conventional storytelling than did the original. The appeared to be less anarchic fourth-wall breaking. But that is a minor complaint, and one that perhaps might be disproved by a back-to-back comparison. In other words, I could be wrong, shocking as that might be to some of you. If you are in the target audience for this sort of film you’ll enjoy the hell out of it. If not, best to steer clear. I don’t think there’s a lot of middle ground here.

Third up was  Avengers: Infinity War. It started off a bit bleak, but soon the humor and playfulness we’ve begun to expect from the Marvel films reasserted itself and I began to enjoy the film. Admittedly it dragged at times, the price the viewers must pay for the apparent requirement to include roles for almost every character shown on screen to date. The ending was also rather bleak, but every viewer over the age of twelve understood it merely as the prelude to the next film  Avengers: The Reset Button.

Fourth was Solo: A Star Wars Story. I grew up with Star Wars. For me, other than the initial trilogy of films, Han Solo was defined by the Brian Daley novel trilogy. This character — this slight, feckless, ineffective character — portrayed in Solo wasn’t Han Solo, despite the coincidence in names. Now, with the understanding that this was merely an action-comedy heist film notionally set in the Star Wars universe, Solo is a fun, engaging flick. The acting and the action are both well done. I enjoyed the homage to Firefly in the train heist scene. There is something almost incestuous about it in a meta-fictional sense, given Malcolm Reynolds archetypal descent from Han Solo.

A lot of people hated Solo. I understand that. I guess when it comes right down to it, I don’t care enough about Star Wars to be bothered by what can be viewed as disrespect to beloved characters. So I was able to watch with very low expectations, and the film exceeded them.

Fifth was Ant-Man and the Wasp. This is a masterclass in creating a light, fun, probably forgettable movie. I had a great time watching this. It provided everything I wanted from a superhero movie. It made me laugh. The action scenes were inventive and well-executed. The actors all seemed to be having a good time, with the exception of one of the villains, who would have been fired from the role had she displayed much pleasure. I’d watch this one again.

There you have. All the movie reviews you’ll get from until next time I’m left Home Alone.

Audiobooks

I may have mentioned that I have a substantial commute to work. Others might not consider forty minutes each way substantial, but I do. The point is that I spend a great deal of time each week in the car. Some might spend this time listening to the radio: music or new or talk. I listen to books.

I used to check out books on tape or CD at the library. My new ride came without a CD player, something I did not notice until I got it home. I mean, why wouldn’t a car have a CD player? Apparently I am old and thus did not realize music is now delivered via mp3, or streamed, or through some other magical conveyance. Anyway, I had to adapt. So now I download library audiobooks to my mobile phone which then play then via Bluetooth over the car’s media system. It works, but the options remain limited.

Anyway, I go through a lot of books. Often I end up sitting in the car a minute or two after I arrive at my destination in order to finish up a particularly engrossing section.

I love the immersive nature of the medium. Especially if the narrator possesses a pleasant, versatile voice and an engaging delivery. Not all of them do. Some — generally celebrities, apparently hired for name recognition rather than vocal skills — perform reasonably well, delivering the emotion and intonations in a skillful fashion but fail to pronounce certain words properly. That never fails to eject me from the story. The narrator continues on, of course, but I’m still back at the point where he screwed up the pronunciation of “mischievous” or what have you. It might be thirty seconds or so before I am drawn back into the story, wondering what I’ve missed in the meantime. (One of the technical issues with newer audiobook media is the difficulty involved in or impossibility of rewinding. That was never a problem with tapes.)

But the sheer fact that I feel as if I’ve been physically removed from another world speaks to the immersive nature of audio books. Right now I’m revisiting some of Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey and Maturin novels. I’m not a sailor. I have no notion of what he is describing half the time when he writes of catheads and futtocks. But I don’t care. I don’t need to imagine the specifics, I’m too engrossed in the sensation, the spell woven by the words he employs to depict nautical doings, creating a poetic shell enclosing the reader that evokes the feeling of the events more convincingly than he could by mechanistically conveying the information in a didactic manner. While he was a skilled enough writer that I’m sure he could explain to me how and why to rig a preventer backstay, I’m happier simply existing in the bubble universe he creates through his terminological poetry — as read by a gifted narrator, that other, essential component.

So, three cheers for audiobooks.

‘Tis the Season (Again.)

December again. How did that happen? If seems like I’ve only just finished washing up the Thanksgiving dishes. And now I’m neck-deep in stringing lights along the rain-gutters, hanging ornaments on a tree, and vacuuming up glittering refuse from homemade Christmas card creation.

Thanksgiving is — as the name ought to clue one in — about gratitude. New Year’s Eve is about reflection. Christmas? Setting aside the religious aspect — which is what I do, placing it far over there where I’m less likely to stumble over it — what is Christmas about? It isn’t about presents, at least not receiving them: a family man in his late forties does not anticipate a pile of gifts with his name on them waiting under the tree. Giving them, well sure. For the younger recipients — in my case the HA — Christmas is all about the presents.

Is it about family? Maybe. But what about those without much in the way of family, or far from family? I recall Christmas in Haiti. My tent mate and I set up a miniature tree atop our battlebox, added the presents we’d received, and managed to make a bit of a production out of it. And the Christmas dinner was excellent. (I’ll bend your ear sometime about the cruise ship chefs that KBR hired to feed the camp in Gonaïves.) No family joined either of us there, of course. Yet we enjoyed Christmas, attending to such of the rituals as we could.

So perhaps Christmas is about the ritual, the observance of something becoming itself the thing observed. It’s recursive: Christmas is about the feeling of Christmas which is generated by the celebration of Christmas. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I enjoy it.

In case I don’t get around to it later, Merry Christmas everyone.