Happy Robert Louis Stevenson Day!

Today is Robert Louis Stevenson's 156th birthday. He was born in 1850 and apparently suffered from a lung disease as a child. In order to relieve his suffering, his nurse would stay up with him at night when his coughing kept him awake, and would tell him stories about ghosts and monsters and pirates.

Which no doubt influenced him later in life when he sat down to write stories like The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Body-Snatcher, The Bottle Imp, Kidnapped, and Treasure Island.

Gonna see if I can swing by Long John Silver's for dinner tonight to celebrate.

To Read: Lisey's Story

A while back I mentioned an article on writing that Stephen King wrote for The Washington Post. The point of the article was that there's no quick and easy way for writers to write. There's no exciting, magic secret that gets the job done for you.

By way of making that point, King refers to a scene from his latest book:

About halfway through my latest novel, Jim Dooley, a dangerously unhinged literary stalker finds himself in the study of his idol, Scott Landon, a famous writer. Although Scott has been dead for nearly two years, Dooley is overcome with awe. "He deserved a nice place like this," he tells Scott's widow. "I hope he enjoyed it, when he wasn't agonizin' over his creations."

Lisey Landon spent 25 years with Scott, and knows a thing or two about that creative process: She "thought of Scott at the desk he called Dumbo's Big Jumbo, sitting before his big-screen Mac and laughing at something he had just written. Chewing either a plastic straw or his own fingernails. Sometimes singing along with the music. Making arm-farts if it was summer and hot and his shirt was off. That was how he agonized over his smucking creations. But she... said nothing."

She keeps her mouth shut because Jim Dooley -- like Annie Wilkes in Misery, another book of mine that touches on the writing life -- is a walking land mine. But even were Dooley an English professor (as is the man who winds Dooley up and sets him in motion), I think she would have held her peace.

I bring all that up to say that I've been wanting to read that novel, Lisey's Story, ever since reading King's article. Which I'm sure was partly his point in bringing it up. I'm interested in other writers' perspectives on the writing life, but I'm even more interested in the idea of an English professor who somehow (unknowingly? knowingly?) encourages a man to become a (posthumous?) literary stalker. Lots of questions that need answering there, and I aim to find 'em out.

Anyway, it's out now.

Happy Birthday, Neil Gaiman!

Neil Gaiman is my biggest, living, literary hero. His writing voice is infectious in the sense that I can't read his stuff without wanting to sound exactly like him. It's a tempation I have to resist, because I'll never sound like Neil and trying to would lead to insanity. And not the good kind.

I also love how he hasn't let himself be bound by genre. He writes fantasy, horror, comedy, science fiction, and children's books all equally well. He said in an interview recently that when he first started doing book signings back in the Sandman days, he could always tell by looking at the line who his fans were and who was someone's mom, standing in line to get a signature for a fan who was away at college or something.

These days, he said, his audience is so varied that he can't tell anymore. Those old Sandman fans are now middle-aged and respectable, and there are also a new crop of young, goth readers as well as six-year old little girls who loved The Day I Swapped My Dad for 2 Goldfish. How cool is that?

Anyway, he turns 46 years old today. So, Happy Birthday, Neil!

Review: Northfork

Frankly, I didn't get it.

Maybe I just wasn't mentally energetic enough for it last night, because I could tell that there was more there than I was picking up, but one of a couple of things must've been going on. Either I'm too much of a rube to undertand all that thar simbullism, or they packed it with too much and I overloaded.

The story goes that the town of Northfork, Montana is about to be buried beneath a lake when the new dam starts working. Most of the town has left, but there are a few stragglers still hanging around. So, the state has sent in three two-man teams of Evacuators to clear the rest of them out. One of the people who needs evacuating is a young orphan named Irwin who's too sick to survive a journey to anywhere else. Some others are a quartet of weirdos who may or may not be angels looking for one of their own who's gone missing.

Angel symbolism is all over the place in this movie. Nick Nolte, the local priest who's stayed behind to care for Irwin, constantly refers to the boy as an angel. And Irwin seems to genuinely believe it. He's got surgical-looking scars on his back and on his temples where he claims his wings and halo were removed.

While trying to talk a religious man (who intends to ride out the flood in a homemade ark) into leaving, one of the Evacuators (played by James Woods) offers to give him a pair of cut-off angel wings if he'll comply. Then there are the small, white feathers that the Evacuators all wear in their hat bands. See, there's probably something angelic about the Evacuators' mission to rescue the Northfork stragglers, but how far are we supposed to carry the analogy? They're doing the job for the promise of some property by the new lake, so does that selfishness figure into the comparison? Is that why their feathers are small? And what do we make of the sub-plot in which James Woods has to decide whether or not to dig up and move the remains of his wife, which are buried in Northfork? I don't know, and it makes my head hurt to figure out.

And what of the weirdos? Are they real? Are they angels? Are they -- as Roger Ebert suggests -- merely constructs of Irwin's imagination? If so, how is it possible for James Woods to briefly see them in one scene? Is Irwin really an angel, or just a sick boy trying to cope with loneliness and the fact that he's dying? Why does one of the weirdos (Anthony Edwards) not have any hands? What's that all about? Why is he blind? What's up with the strange glasses that he wears that help him to read? Why is another weirdo mute? Why is that mute one named "Cod?" Is it coincidence that "Cod" sounds a lot like "God?" Why does Cod write in gibberish that can only be translated by the blind Anthony Edwards? Is there a "blind oracle" thing going on here? Why is Darryl Hannah's weirdo androgynous? Is that an angelic thing, or something else? None of the other weirdos are androgynous, so it can't be an angelic thing, right? Or is she the only angel? Where did James Woods get those cut-off angel wings he carries around in his trunk? Gahhhhh!

I have one good thing to say about Northfork. Nick Nolte's performance of the priest who cares for a boy who no one else will love, is heartbreaking. Especially as the father of a young boy myself, it tore me up to watch Nolte trying everything in his meager power to help Irwin. But that story could've been told much differently and much more effectively if it weren't hindered by all the other nonsense in the film.

Six-word stories

When I first started going to comics conventions, it was enough to have my favorite writers and artists sign my copies of comics they'd worked on. It was a convenient excuse to meet them and see what they were like for a couple of seconds. Then one day Phil Jiminez offered to draw a quick Wonder Woman sketch for me and I haven't been satisfied with autographs since. Why take a signature when you can have an actual piece of art?

The problem is, that doesn't work for writers, unless you run into one good-natured enough to play along. I've seen Steve Niles draw a smiley face with fangs for a fan, and that was funny and cool, but what if you could get art from your favorite writer that actually reflects the work that he or she is known for?

Wired magazine recently ran a Hemingway-inspired article in which it asked famous sci-fi, fantasy, and horror writers to each write a story using only six words. One of my favorites is Alan Moore's: "Machine. Unexpectedly, I’d invented a time"

Check out the link, because there's more from the likes of Neil Gaiman, William Shatner, Joss Whedon, Frank Miller, Michael Moorcock, Kevin Smith, Ursula K. LeGuin, and Robert Jordan, amongst many, many others. But also, next time you're at a con and you run into Brian K. Vaughan or Grant Morrison, instead of just getting an autograph or having them scribble something foolish in your sketch book, consider asking them to write you a six-word story.

Reviews: Genre comics

Got some quick comics reviews up at Comic World News:

Adventure Comics
Pirate Tales #1
The Adventures of Rabbit and Bear Paws

Horror Comic
Wormwood: Gentleman Corpse #4

Fantasy Comic
Hatter M #3

Science Fiction Comic
Highlander #0

Happy Dracula Day!

Today is Bram Stoker's 159th birthday!

"H'bleh," everybody!

Quick Movie Reviews

I got a lot of movie watching done over vacation last week, but don't have a ton to say about any of the films, so here are some quick thoughts.

Dark Water: Excellent ghost story. Since it's a remake of a J-horror film, I was concerned that it was going to be Grudge-like, but it's not. The characters are all strongly written and expertly portrayed by the cast, and there's a solid logic to why things happen. Almost nothing is there on accident or just to make the visuals cooler. I say "almost nothing" because I watched the misleadingly titled "unrated" version (there's nothing especially gory or racy about it) that had a deleted dream sequence added back in. It's a gorgeous sequence, but doesn't add to the story, so it was wisely cut out of the theatrical version.

Frankenstein Conquers the World: Horrible, Japanese monster flick that has a resurrected Frankenstein's monster fighting a giant armadillo/beetle. And yes, just to keep things fair, Frankenstein's monster does grow to Godzilla-size. I guess if you just really like cheesy, giant-monster movies, it's got its value, but if you're like me and think that King Kong vs. Godzilla is an abomination; pass it on by.

Santa's Slay: Saw enough of this one on Spike to know that I want to see it uncensored and without commercials. Santa is really a demon who's been under oath to play nice for a couple thousand years, but now the contract is up and he's free to rampage. There's a great opening sequence with James Caan, Fran Drescher, and Chris Kattan that hooked me. The WWE's Goldberg plays Santa and -- though I didn't get far enough on Spike to see her -- Emilie de Ravin from Lost is one of the other stars.

MirrorMask: Exactly like reading a Neil Gaiman/Dave McKean comic; only in live-action. Nice story about parenting and raising independent children, but the real wonder is in the visuals.

House of Flying Daggers: I'll never get tired of watching Ziyi Zhang, but I'm now officially tired of the Crouching Tiger/Hero genre of beautifully filmed, tragic, wire fu movies. As they go, this one was okay with it's Robin Hood-esque plot, but can't one of these things have a happy ending?

Russian Ark: Yes, it's impressive as all get-out that they pulled off a single camera-shot that lasts for the entire hour-and-a-half of this movie. I just wish the movie was more interesting than it is. If you don't know your Russian history, you won't know any more after watching this. You'll understand better the relationship between Russia and Europe (at least from Russia's perspective), but that could've been accomplished in about ten minutes tops without all the overly-long shots of oil paintings. Probably a very important film for Russian audiences; not so much for this American viewer.

New Comics: 11/8/06

New shipping list from Diamond is up.

Here's what I'm getting:

Adventure Comic
GI Joe: America's Elite #17

Mystery Comic
CSI: Dying in the Gutters #4

Fantasy Comic
Fables #55

Science Fiction Comics
Y: The Last Man #51
Battlestar Galactica #3
Rex Libris #6

Superhero Comics
52 #27
Batman #658
Civil War: Young Avengers & Runaways #4
Furious Fist of the Drunken Monkey: Origin of the Species #2

Pick of the Week: Y: The Last Man #51
At last, the mystery of what started the male-killing plague in issue #1 is going to be revealed. Has it really been four years since this series started?

Review: The Prestige

I had a lot of hope for The Prestige after being so disappointed by The Illusionist. It's not a flawless film, but it does improve over The Illusionist in several ways. First, though there are twists, The Prestige doesn't rely on them to carry the entire plot the way The Illusionist does. Once you figure out The Illusionist, there's nothing else about the story to keep you interested in the rest of the movie. With The Prestige, the characters played by Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman are fascinating, complex men all on their own. The intrigue and rivalry that surrounds them is extra.

But where secrets are concerned, The Prestige does a lot better job of hiding them than The Illusionist. If these movies were magicians and the plot twists were their tricks, The Illusionist tries to misdirect you by amateurishly pointing behind you and yelling, "What's THAT?!" The Prestige, on the other hand, is a master magician. By using the non-linear storytelling that Christopher Nolan loves so much, The Prestige has no problem keeping your mind busy thinking about other things. You're too busy trying to figure out what's going on to spend any time predicting twists or guessing mysteries.

That said, the movie seems to reveal the same secrets several times for no reason. I really don't think I figured anything out before the movie made it obvious, but once I knew something, the film would explain it again later on as if I didn't know it. I don't know if that was on purpose for a reason I can't figure out, or a flaw.

The acting in The Prestige was also more impressive than The Illusionist. That's no fault of The Illusionist's cast, it's just that The Prestige's cast had more to work with in their script. As awesome as Edward Norton, Paul Giamatti, Jessica Biel, and Rufus Sewell are, there's no beating Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Michael Caine, Scarlett Johansson, Andy Serkis, and David Freakin' Bowie. Especially David Freakin' Bowie. The man deserves an Oscar for disappearing into his role the way he did.

Happy Daniel Boone Day!

Today is Daniel Boone's birthday. He was born in 1734 and thanks to the Fess Parker TV show was one of my childhood heroes. What I don't remember from the TV show was that Boone worked for a guy named Richard Henderson, who'd bought a bunch of land from the Cherokees and wanted to create a new colony from it called Transylvania. Boone explored the land and founded Boonesborough as the potential capital of Transylvania.

Unfortunately for Henderson, Virginia let him know that they already owned the land he'd bought from the Cherokees, which is a cool and funny instance of Native Americans sticking it to the Man for a change. Henderson got some land in compensation for his loss, but that was the end of the American Transylvania.

Still, it could make an interesting story if the American Transylvania was somehow connected with the European one in more than just name and their most famous citizens were to meet...