Ken Lizzi's Blog, page 78

Second Novel Ruminations

Under Strange Suns debuted almost a week ago. By this point you may well be tired of my mentioning it. Could be I’m tired of mentioning it too, ever think of that, bucko? Hmmm? How about you buy a copy and I’ll stop bringing it up? What’s that, you say? “How about I just stop reading anything you write, Ken, that’ll solve my problem.” Touché, gentle reader. Well played. I withdraw the suggestion.

But I’m going to have to bring it up from time to time. People seldom buy unadvertised goods. And I’ll want to raise my hand when the print edition comes out, and note upcoming signings, etc. Still, I get you. I’d just as soon focus on the next project myself. Bear with me, though, a bit longer, allow me to ruminate a little more on my sophomore outing.

The truth is, the book still doesn’t feel real to me. I know it is, of course. I’ve read through it countless times, in all its permutations and formats, on various computer screens, printed out and scattered across the floor, PDF file, unbound book mock-up. But until I get my author copy in hand, the novel still seems ethereal to me, so much vapor. Very subjective, you say, a highly personal response. Well, yes. This is my web log. Personal is what you’re going to get, until I can hire underpaid marketing minions to manage all my social media duties. Maybe there’s a blogging service in Cambodia, able to crank out a year’s worth of posts for $2.75, throw in daily Tweets for a quarter per month. Think anyone would notice?

Oh, just one more thing. I checked only a moment ago, and Under Strange Suns is still discounted to 99-cents. Just saying.

Gardner Fox, Appendix N

Today I’m turning my attention once again to Appendix N. The writer in the spotlight this time is Gardner Fox. Not exactly a household name, not even among aficionados of sword-and-sorcery fiction. He’s probably better known to comic book fans as a prolific comics scripter, writing from the 1930s into the 1980s. His claim to Appendix N membership is predicated on his Kothar sword-and-sorcery novels.

It is hard to evaluate Kothar without appearing to damn Fox with faint praise. That’s unfortunate, since the truth is that I like Kothar. The novels are entertaining, and that’s the entire point of a sword and sorcery tale. Fox succeeded. He brought to life this fellow:

…a giant youth…leading a grey horse. He wore a mail shirt that glittered as if newly polished, there was a leather kilt about his loins, and a great sword with a red gem set into its hilt bobbed at his side. A yellow mane of uncut hair hung down to his shoulders…

If you read that description and it imparts a sensation akin to homecoming, if reading that makes you want to settle in for a satisfying S&S yarn, then Kothar is exactly the book for you. Gardner Fox ticks all the barbarian boxes. All the boxes. And therein lies the issue.

With Kothar, Fox has constructed the barbarians’ barbarian. Kothar is, in a sense, the generic S&S barbarian. He’s the benchmark against which all other sword-swinging, loin-cloth-and-sandal clad heroes measure themselves. If Conan is the ur barbarian, then Kothar is the barbarian after being thoroughly market-tested and vetted by every department at Corporate.

Like I said, damning with faint praise. But the reason Kothar sailed through Corporate and won over the test audiences during market research, is that he works. He’s entertaining. Kothar novels provide the goods: a mighty-thewed hero, diabolical wizards, demons, monsters, magical swords, buxom wenches, barroom brawls, exotic locals, chases, clanging sword fights. A Kothar novel might not remain lodged in your memory, but damnit, you had fun reading it. And what’s wrong with that? Gardner Fox earned his spot in Appendix N.

 

Under Strange Suns

Cue the fanfare. Commence drumroll. Ahem. Is this thing on?

Ladies and gentlemen, readers of all ages…well, readers of appropriate age, anyways. I’m please to announce that Under Strange Suns is available for purchase beginning August 25, digitally, and December 25 in print edition.

Here’s a bit of inside skinny for those of you who like both digital books and discounts: From August 25 through August 28, Under Strange Suns will be offered for only 99-cents. I’m no expert on book pricing, but that strikes me as what you’d call a deal.

The book will be available at all the usual e-book outlets, as well as direct from the publisher. If you pick up a copy, please consider providing a review on Amazon, or Goodreads. Or, hell, why not both? Unless you didn’t enjoy the book, in which case we never spoke, this conversation did not occur.

Seriously, I hope you like it. Now, back to work on my next novel.

Fiction Description

Opinion time, readers. What is your preference, or perhaps tolerance, for the amount of description of places, things, physical appearance, etc. in fiction? Do you like to have an exacting rundown of what the characters look like, what the furniture in a room looks like and how it is arranged, and what everyone is wearing? Or do you tend to skip the descriptive paragraphs and scan down the page until the action recommences?

As a reader, I try to put my faith in the judgment of the author. E.R. Eddison wrote meticulously detailed descriptions of locations, character appearance, and clothing. His paragraphs are like luxurious objets d’art themselves, running to page length depictions of a room, or the outfit of a king. And I love it. But in the hands of another author, such obsessive attention to detail would distract me, send my eyes flicking through the sentences until the story picked up again. Robert Jordan springs to mind. Too often his “Wheel of Time” books read like fashion anthropology, scrupulously recording the sartorial styles of every kingdom, and keeping up with the current trends in haute couture. It bores me. But some readers eat it up, and that is great. I’m a fan of options and variety. In fact I’m a booster, got the jersey and the commemorative plate set.

Tolkien, I think, ladled out description in perfect proportions. Again, not everyone agrees. Many readers find large parts of “The Lord of the Rings” to read like travelogues, like the journals of Lewis and Clark obsessively cataloguing every bit of flora and each geological curiosity. It worked for me, however, helping cement the illusion of Middle-Earth as a real place.

But despite my appreciation for Tolkien and Eddison, my approach is more minimalist. It depends upon what I’m writing, of course, and the specific style I’m employing. But in general, I prefer to sketch in the essential details and provide the reader enough information to paint in the rest of the mental image. Then I get on with action, keep the story moving. At least, that’s what I think I do.

Opinions? Anyone, anyone? Bueller?

August Derleth, Cthulu Wrangler

Today I continue considering the authors of Appendix N. August Derleth managed to escape my voracious reading attention for a very long time. That is surprising, considering the volume of material he produced. Derleth wasn’t an Asimov-class churner of words, but with over 100 published books to his credit, he was respectably prolific. And, like Asimov, he covered a lot of subject territory in both fiction and non-fiction.

What August Derleth is best known for is his championing of H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulu Mythos. He published collections of Lovecraft’s stories and even wrote a biography of HPL. Additionally, he dove into the Mythos himself, writing several stories of Elder Gods, forbidden books, and the questionable inhabitants of New England.

I found his Mythos stories rather formulaic. A narrator finds himself entangled in the history of either Innsmouth, Arkham, or Dunwich. He’s usually a distant relative of one of the old families. He finds copies of one or more of a set list of titles, which Derleth writes out in full as some sort of talisman of horror, hinting at the nefarious doings of some deceased ancestor. The narrator lays out a string of heavy-handed clues that he himself fails to notice or heed. The story culminates in some supposedly shocking event that the reader saw coming pages ago, and that is made no more shocking by italicizing the entirety of the final paragraph.

Derleth composed these stories competently enough, but they lack Lovecraft’s macabre touch and his vision of existential cosmic horror. The monstrosities Derleth provides aren’t unfathomably alien, they are instead categorized and formally established in hierarchies and relationships. They become familiar and thereby lose much of sense of bizarre terror that Lovecraft brought.

But I think that is why Derleth fits so well in Appendix N. Dungeons and Dragons is fundamentally about cataloging the wondrous, assigning statistics to the fabulous. By his obsessive categorizing, Derleth rendered Cthulu, Hastur, et. al so many monsters to provide high level player characters a challenge.

I don’t mean to be too dismissive. A couple of the stories are pretty good. And one in particular, “The Lamp of Alhazred” captured some ot the lyricism of Lovecraft at his best. Perhaps appropriately so, as this story is a sort of love note to HPL, a nearly metafictional piece of hagiography. And “Witches Hollow” stands up well against HPL’s own Mythos contributions.

But remember that August Derleth wrote more than just Lovecraft pastiches. He also, thankfully, wrote Sherlock Holmes pastiches. Or, more precisely, detective fiction homages, featuring his character Solar Pons. I think this tells us something about August Derleth: the man was an enthusiast. When he liked something he wanted more of it, he wanted to get involved, he wanted to play in the same sandbox. Another reason he fits well into Appendix N, as, after all, what is D&D but an attempt to become more involved in the stories we like? (Besides, of course, the fun of solving tactical problems, killing monsters, and taking their stuff.)

Solar Pons is right in my wheelhouse. I love these stories. At times I find myself surprised to read “Solar Pons” instead of “Sherlock Holmes” or “Doctor Parker” instead of “Doctor Watson.” I fully buy into the illusion. I’m hooked. And gratified to know I’ve got five more Solar Pons collections to look forward to.

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Oregon Brewers Festival 2015

I am preempting this web log, once again, with beer commentary. Friday I pedalled to the 2015 Oregon Brewers Festival, the 28th installment of the venerable zymurgical institution. I purchased my tasting glass and tokens and got to it. Here, then, are my notes. Keep in mind I was sampling tasters, not consuming entire glasses. I’m pretty sure my notes would be even less legible had I done the latter.

Epic Brewing, Hop Syndrome. Slightly bitter Bud. Not memorable, but a reasonable way to ease into the afternoon. Pairs well with curly fries and catsup. (American Style Lager. ABV 5.0. IBU 33.)

Bison Organic Beer, Kermit the Hop. Firmly in my wheelhouse. Moderately hoppin Imperial IPA with distinct grapefruit notes. Pretty good, especially following the not-so-epic Hop Syndrome. (Imperial India Pale Ale. ABV 8.5. IBU 90)

Anderson Valley Brewing Co., The Kimmie, The Yink & The Holy Gose. Refreshing session beer, reminiscent of a chilled white sangria. I can easily see a sixer of this on a sunny day. (Specialty Beer. ABV 4.2. IBU 5.)

Boneyard Beer, Bone Light. Managed to pull of an ISA without tasting like a can of Coors crammed with hop buds. Refreshing, balanced. On par with Anderson Valley. A solid session ale for those of us who like our hops. (Session Beer. ABV 4.0. IBU 20.)

Boundary Bay Brewery, Double Hopped Sorachi Ace Pale Ale. Remember what I was saying about a can of Coors crammed with hop buds? Yeah, this is that. (American-Style Pale Ale. ABV 4.1. IBU 6.1.)

Port Townsend Brewing Company, The S.H.I.P. A fair beer. Sort of a baseline beverage – all the rest can be measured as above or below P.T. It’s…fine. (American-Style Pale Ale. ABV 5.5. IBU 45.)

Old Town Brewing, 1-Up Mushroom Ale. Just like printed on the tin. “Earthy” in an aggressive, borderline unpleasant fashion. (Experimental Beer. ABV 6.0. IBU 30.)

Widmer Brothers Brewing, Widmeritaville. I need salt on the rim, maybe a paper umbrella. Look, if I wanted tequila and lime, I’d be at the liquor store. (Experimental Beer. ABV 5.8. IBU 10.)

Ambacht Brewing, Matzobrau. Complex, a lot going on in this beer, but the parts blend harmoniously. Good stuff. (Belgian Dark Wheat. ABV 7.8. IBU 17.)

Central City Brewers & Distillers, Red Betty Imperial IPA. Big, hoppy, red Imperial IPA. Similar to Bridgeport’s Kingpin, but packing a bigger wallop. (Imperial India Pale Ale. ABV 9.0. IBU 90.)

Klamath Basin Brewing, Spud Muffin Pale Ale. See “Old Town Brewing.” Wash the damn potatoes first. (Specialty Beer. ABV 5.2. IBU 30.)

Sprecher Brewery. Abbey Triple. For a Belgian Trippel it is surprisingly thin. Not bad, exactly, but I expect a more robust, almost honey-like, consistency and mouthfeel from a Trippel. (Belgian-Style Tripel. ABV 8.5. IBU 12.)

Sunriver Brewing Co., Oh MANdarin! White IPA. Salted citrus. Not for me. (Specialty Beer. ABV 6.2. IBU 50.)

Viking Braggot Co., Gypsy Tears. Interesting in concept, not so successful in practice. I’m not discounting the style out of hand. But this version is like flat cider. And not in a good way. (Specialty Honey Beer. ABV 5.6. IBU 56.)

Lagunitas Brewing Co., Sucks 366. Just beyond the edge of my hop appreciation. So close. I want to like it more than I do. (Imperial India Pale Ale. ABV 8.0. IBU 63.)

Garage Project, Death From Above. Welcome Kiwis! I can taste the chilis, but they don’t overwhelm the hops. Good, but one-and-done. (Experimental Beer. ABV 7.5. IBU 60.)

Panhead Custom Ales, Johnny Octane. Biscuity, flavorful, well-balanced. Nicely played, New Zealand. (Imperial Red Ale. ABV 8.0. IBU 80.)

And last, Yeastie Boys, Gunnamatta. “Tea, Earl Grey, cold and hoppy.” (American-Style Strong Pale Ale. ABV 6.5. IBU 52.)

I’ll leave you with some photos from the event and my bike ride back toward home.

Books, Head-to-Head

I have a couple of books on my mind. I just finished Live Free or Die by John Ringo. I’m about two-thirds of the way through Redshirts by John Scalzi. Two science fiction novels with a humorous bent. A side-by-side comparison isn’t entirely unwarranted, right?

As noted, I haven’t quite finished Scalzi’s entry. But it is Sunday and the web log post demands fodder.

Redshirts did not grab me immediately. We’ve all seen Galaxy Quest, do we need a deeper dive into metafiction? I got the book’s jokes. (Or, joke, singular?)I just didn’t find them particularly funny. Scalzi seemed to be beating the horse to a bloody pulp. But Redshirts has been growing on me, actually eliciting a couple of chuckles. I’m hopeful the trend will continue.

I just hope he doesn’t insert himself into the narrative.

Live Free or Die, by comparison, engaged me immediately. It could be that Ringo’s sense of humor aligns more closely with mine than does Scalzi’s. But unfortunately, as I got further and further into Live Free or Die I experienced the opposite reaction I did to Redshirts; the book began losing my interest. Ringo, it seems to me, became very involved with his research and found the process of, for example, melting an asteroid extremely interesting. More interesting than I find it, sadly, because he explained it in detail. Great detail. The nuts and bolts of how to make the tool to make the tool to make the tool is less compelling than you might think. And ultimately, Live Free or Die is incomplete, the first volume of a series, and a volume without much of a resolution. Though it does close out with a bang. (Well, not really, since there is no sound in space.) Nonetheless, I did enjoy the book. It made me smile more than once. I’m likely to pick up the sequels, find out what happens next.

Conclusion? Neither book is world shaking, but I found these efforts by both Johns worth my time. So far. I will withhold the final verdict on Redshirts until I finish reading it.

Seattle

 

I burned a vacation day Friday and took the family on a long weekend trip to Seattle. My father lives in the outer reaches of the greater Seattle area, so travel costs were limited to fuel. The drive to Hotel Dad began promisingly enough. But what has been in my experience a two-and-a-half to three-hour drive took nearly four. Question for Northern Washington and Seattle: What the hell is up with your traffic? Some words came to mind as I inched along roads and highways. Many of them were profane. Others included: aggravating; irritating; maddening; and frustrating.

If any of you are planning to visit Seattle, I would suggest purchasing the City Pass. If you engage in at least three of the included activities, the Pass pays for itself. MBW (My Beautiful Wife) and I boarded the Harbor Cruise for its final trip of the day. I thought it worthwhile, and I learned a bit about the city.

Saturday we squeezed in quite a bit of sightseeing.  The Space Needle experience consists primarily of standing in line. Probably a weekday is a better bet, or some day when the cruise ships aren’t in port.

The EMP museum is an architectural curiosity. Bilbao in the Northwest. It began as a rock-and-roll themed museum then expanded to include science-fiction and fantasy. So, basically, it is Paul Allen’s attic. The sci-fi and fantasy sections consisted primarily of film props. Interesting enough, but I found the exhibits more broad than deep. The appeal to genre fans is obvious, and many obvious genre fans explored the offerings. But it would be dishonest of me to claim it is some sort of Mecca for speculative fiction aficionados.

Pike Place Market was shoulder-to-shoulder humanity. MBW and I waded in, then found the nearest exit and waded out. I’m neither agoraphobic nor claustrophobic, but that was too much. We scaled nearby stairs to a balcony restaurant and had a nice lunch from a terrific people-watching vantage.

My dad brought my daughter, V.V., later that day to join us at the aquarium. I enjoyed the aquarium almost as much as I did watching V.V.’s reactions to the exhibits. She does love aquariums.

Now, home again, home again. And with some pictures to share.

If You Can’t Stand the Heat…

Can someone please turn up the AC? It is too hot for me to be this busy. My lovely and supportive wife, Isa, seems to have picked up whatever bug has been plaguing our daughter, V.V.,  for the last several weeks. I wonder, is a cold the baseline health condition for a toddler? That would make lack of continual nasal drip and hacking cough the outlier.

The point is, I was busy for a Sunday. I took V.V. grocery shopping. Then, taking advantage of the relative morning cool – probably still under 85 degrees – I washed the cars. Then I cooked lunches for the week and chopped canteloupe and strawberries to accompany breakfasts. Then I made lunch, put V.V. down for a nap, ate lunch, loaded the dishwasher.

Did I mention it is hot? Reading the above list, my activities hardly seem onerous. Well, it’s my web log, and I can whine like a spanked puppy if I want to. They say, if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. But if I got out of the kitchen, we’d have nothing to eat.

So, wife and daughter both napping. I should get back to editing “Under Strange Suns.” Instead, I’m going to take a bit of a break, crack a beer, perhaps, and read some of August Derleth’s H.P. Lovecraft pastiches. Of the Appendix N authors, I suffer a dearth of Derleth. I’m going to remedy that.

Have a good week, everyone.

Philip Jose Farmer, Appendix N

Philip Jose Farmer (or P.J., as Appendix N has him) was a prolific author of pulp adventure. (By the way, I don’t need to keep spelling out what Appendix N is, do I? If you’re reading this web log you’re probably hip to the reference.) I’d call him an acolyte of Edgar Rice Burroughs. He mined the same story veins, and even wrote in Burroughs’ worlds, including some straight-up Tarzan books, as well as spin-offs. Check out his Opar novels, fantastic pre-history, lost-civilization adventures spun off from Tarzan’s adventures in Burroughs’ fictional Opar.

Farmer is noted in Appendix N for his “World of Tiers” novels. I’ve not read them all. Something I should, perhaps, remedy. What I think of when I consider Farmer is his “Riverworld” series. I picked up “To Your Scattered Bodies Go” when I was twelve or thirteen. And I proceeded to devour the entire series. Those books started a fascination with Richard Francis Burton that lasted until I learned a lot more about the famed explorer’s true character and actions. I like Farmer’s Burton much more than the original.

The conceit of “Riverworld” is that everyone who has ever lived on Earth wakes after death upon the banks of a world-encircling river. The reader is tossed into the story in the point of view of Burton, and learns the mysteries of “Riverworld” along with him. There’s a lot of great action as well as spot-the-historical-figure fun. These latter include Alice Liddell and Samuel Clemens. At least, I think so. It has been decades since I read these books, but they did leave an impression.

Farmer was an obvious fan of genre fiction. His oeuvre is replete with pastiches of Sherlock Holmes, Doc Savage, and Tarzan. (Yes, I did just serve up the phrase “oeuvre is replete.” Deal with it.) I doubt I presume too much suggesting that Farmer’s taste in stories aligned closely with that of Gary Gygax. It’s hard to imagine Farmer not appearing in Appendix N. (Though I imagine “J.C. on the Dude Ranch” was less to Gygax’s liking. I recall reading that story with appalled fascination as a kid.)

The man was a pro, a solid entertainer. He’s not going to knock your socks off with his prose stylings, but he wrote competent, engaging fiction. If you pick up one of his books you’re practically guaranteed a fun read.