This site is updated Thursday at noon with a new article about an artistic pursuit generally considered to be beneath consideration. James Schellenberg probes science-fiction, Carol Borden draws out the best in comics, Chris Szego dallies with romance, and Ian Driscoll stares deeply into the screen.
While the writers have considerable enthusiasm for their subjects, they don't let it numb their critical faculties. Tossing away the shield of journalistic objectivity and refusing the shovel of fannish boosterism, they write in the hopes of starting honest and intelligent discussions about these oft-enjoyed but rarely examined artforms. Click here for the writer's bios and their individual takes on the gutter.
Recent Features
The New Frankenstein
Frankenstein was probably scary at one point, but the whole story has been worn down by repetition, robbed of its power and relegated to status as not much more than a pop culture gag. What would it take to resuscitate the cautionary note in the tale of a scientist? After looking at Scott Bakker's terrifying new book Neuropath, I would say: a few hints of what modern science is taking away from us.
We have saying in our bookstore: Frontlist may bring customers through the door, but it's the backlist that brings them back. Book lovers are completists. Bookstores that can fill the gaps in their ever-increasing collections quickly become favourite stops. There’s nothing quite like the satisfaction of putting it all together, of finally finally owning all the books by a much-loved author. Of course, neither is there any pleasure to equal the joy in the discovery of a new favourite. Like, say, one of the recent additions to my pantheon of must-haves: Tamara Lejeune.
MAN-BAT NINJAS, NINJA BATMEN AND ART WITH NO CONTENT
At the risk of tearing up Carol's
yard (a risk I’ll take, since she’s parked on my lawn currently, leaving me
nowhere to pull up). I’m going to talk about comics for bit here. Don’t worry,
I’ll get to the screen part soon enough.
I have a tendency to overdose on authors once I discover their books. I get really excited, read way too many of their books in a row, and then gradually lose interest once I realize that my idol has feet of clay. And since no author is perfect, very few of them survive this process of overdose/disenchantment.
Kim Stanley Robinson is one of the writers I always kept reading, and I thought that he could do no wrong... at least until I read Forty Signs of Rain and came away entirely confused. What was this book trying to do?
My experience of Forty Signs of Rain came in several distinct steps. First of all, I heard that Robinson was writing a trilogy about climate change; the pre-publication buzz indicated that he was trying to spread the word about this particular looming disaster. The whole concept of a writer producing a science fiction novel in order to save the world caused me no small amount of anxiety.
I like my science fiction to have a healthy mix of both entertainment and substance, keeping me turning pages and then leaving me something to think about later. Gloss and excitement are important, but it's only the deeper stuff that makes a work of art (or trash) last, and that's a tough balance to maintain. If it's a heaping dose of pure pulp or a heaping dose of pure preachiness, neither of them works for me. Robinson has often been accused of falling into the preachy camp -- something that hasn't bothered me in the past since I'm generally sympatico with his viewpoints. But a book specifically set up to proselytize? That gives me the willies.
And can a novel be an effective tool for convincing others anyways? I end up thinking about this a lot, since I find it interesting to observe how mass changes happen in our culture. For example, the campaign against drunk driving took many years and great effort on the part of many people, but eventually the point sunk in. What used to be a common thing is, by and large, now frowned down upon. But did any novels contribute to the effort? Maybe, but not anything that I would like to read to get that story fix.
The second step came when I actually read the book for myself. I came to realize that Forty Signs of Rain has little to do with climate change. Yes, some of the characters discuss it, but there's so much else going on, or rather, so little, that the concepts of the book were entirely diffused. The book has domestic details and information about applying for scientific grants, and then ends with a flood of Washington D.C. The lack of sharp focus or narrative drive is remarkable.
So what is this book about, if it's not climate change per se? One clue is that Forty Signs of Rain is part of a trilogy called Science in the Capital. That's a pretty broad hook! While some of Robinson's other books could be labelled in a similar way -- Science on Mars or Science on the South Pole for the Mars trilogy and Antarctica respectively -- I never encountered the same problem of being baffled by those other books.
(As somewhat of a side note: the reviewers on genre sites loved the book (see SF Site or Agony Column), while the reader reviews on Amazon.com trend toward the unimpressed. I'm not sure why I disagree so vehemently with the sf people!)
If it's a trilogy, maybe I shouldn't judge the first book until I've read the follow-ups? That's in fact the next step: I read the subsequent books, Fifty Degrees Below and Sixty Days and Counting. Now I could see the grand plan! Or not. Books 2 and 3 were vast improvements over book 1, but there was still not much in the way of resolution. Granted, one person cannot solve something as giant as "climate change" as such; that's why I was frantically dialling down my expectations all the way through. In the end, the trilogy boils down to something like "we should get some smart people to work on this problem; here's what their lives might be like in this situation." If that's enough for you, you'll like the trilogy, but it definitely wasn't enough for me.
All that said, I still have a lot of faith in Robinson. I have only a few authors on my "all-time most-admired" list, and he is one of them, even after the Science in the Capital trilogy. I've read (nearly) everything he's written, and his books have shaped a great deal of my thinking; I'd like to see where he goes next despite this current misstep. He's done too much right in the past to give up on.
The other authors on my most-admired list are Ursula K. Le Guin -- see my Gutter pieces on Earthsea and Gifts -- and Robert Charles Wilson. Which authors have remained favourites of yours over the years? Email James or add a comment below.
The authors that I first read some years ago and still regularly read are:
o Orson Scott Card
o Julie E. Czerneda
o James Alan Gardner
o Ursula K. Le Guin
o Robert J. Sawyer
o Robert Charles Wilson
—Dave
When I was in high school, I read every book that was available (maybe every book published, but I could have missed one or two) by authors like Larry Niven, Keith Laumer, Frank Herbert, Fritz Leiber and Michael Moorcock. I even joined Nomads of the Time Streams, the international Michael Moorcock fan club.
I'm not sure why I was so obsessed with Moorcock's books. Maybe it was partly because I found him before any of my other friends and he was "my author" so to speak. But having read so much of his writing, I had certainly gotten tired of him by the time I went to university.
However, I still can't resist occasionally buying new books by him when I come across them, and I recently picked up The Dreamthief's Daughter: A Book of the Albino in paperback. I had read some of his more recent Elric novels and found them to be rather bland (Fortress of the Pearl and Revenge of the Rose, so my expectations were low. But I was actually pleasantly surprised to find this book very engaging - combining elements of his Von Bek "Holy Grail" stories, with a historical backdrop of World War II Nazi Germany and echoes of themes from Mother London regarding the bombing of Britain, as well as his perennial concerns about destiny vrs. free will and the role of the hero (or Eternal Champion as it is known in his books.)
I guess my point is, sometimes authors do need to work through new ideas or work up to more interesting material. Sometimes you just need to wait them out for a few books. What I've been trying to get myself to do (not very successfully, I'll admit) is be more selective about what I read by authors who have been favorites or whom I have obsessively collected.
—Mr.Dave
KSR is actually the only author I have consistently read since I discovered him. I actually didn't fall for him directly after reading the Mars trilogy, but after reading Antarctica and the Three Californias I discovered that I was hooked.
I think the lack of sharp focus that you complain about has been present in his writing all the time, in various ways. Compare his short stories with almost any other sf author: KSR has no twist, no turning point, no resolving moment.
And look at the Mars trilogy. You can find a storyline, but it's very loose. The protagonist is really the planet, and many readers find it difficult to engage with the many little stories within the story.
The Science in the Capital trilogy is really a story about the role of science in society, I would say. It is also, like all other stories by KSR, a story about people living in the world and trying to relate to their local environment. If you expect a thriller about climate change it might be thin, but as you say that might just become to preachy. I really like the Frank character, he's kind of crazy in an interesting way.
Thanks for your comments. I read Three Californias first, of all KSR's books, and they're still my favourites. And I think you're right about the whole turning point issues - the times when his books attempt to have a big turning point, it can sometimes ring false.
And it is Frank who saves the second and third Capital books for me (although I've read how some people dislike the book for that reason - that Frank becomes so central, and he's a strong personality).
Thanks for your comments. I read Three Californias first, of all KSR's books, and they're still my favourites. And I think you're right about the whole turning point issues - the times when his books attempt to have a big turning point, it can sometimes ring false.
And it is Frank who saves the second and third Capital books for me (although I've read how some people dislike the book for that reason - that Frank becomes so central, and he's a strong personality).
The Austin Chronicle's the paper of the future with an all science fiction edition. News, books, music, everything. (I'm especially excited about the music--The Day the Earth Stood Still and afronauts).
~
Kehr and Uhlich are just talking about the Dark Knight. And the war on terror. Can you dig it? (via Salon)
~
The Sparrow soundtrack is as smooth and cool as Simon Yam in a relaxed fit suit. Grady Hendrix agrees, and then adds Bollywood for your immediate listening pleasure. Immediate in the sense of clicking through.
~
Bone artist Jeff Smith was interviewed on PBS' Newshour and is on exhibit at Ohio State University's Wexner Center for the Arts. What could be more respectable? Slide show and viewer questions for Jeff here. Art Center coolness here.
~
Scroll down to see scans of Colin Geddes' Fantasia Hong Kong film poster exhibit at Cinematheque Quebecoise: The Magnificent Butcher, Twelve Deadly Coins, 36th Chamber of Shaolin, City on Fire, Exiled, Triangle. Sammo Hung, Cheng Pei-Pei, Ti Lung, Donnie Yen, Chow Yun-Fat, Anthony Wong.
~
View all Notes here. Seen something shiny? Gutter-talk worth hearing? Let us know!
We have saying in our bookstore: Frontlist may bring customers through the door, but it's the backlist that brings them back. Book lovers are completists. Bookstores that can fill the gaps in their ever-increasing collections quickly become favourite stops. There’s nothing quite like the satisfaction of putting it all together, of finally finally owning all the books by a much-loved author. Of course, neither is there any pleasure to equal the joy in the discovery of a new favourite. Like, say, one of the recent additions to my pantheon of must-haves: Tamara Lejeune.
At the risk of tearing up 
I have a tendency to overdose on authors once I discover their books. I get really excited, read way too many of their books in a row, and then gradually lose interest once I realize that my idol has feet of clay. And since no author is perfect, very few of them survive this process of overdose/disenchantment.
The second step came when I actually read the book for myself. I came to realize that Forty Signs of Rain has little to do with climate change. Yes, some of the characters discuss it, but there's so much else going on, or rather, so little, that the concepts of the book were entirely diffused. The book has domestic details and information about applying for scientific grants, and then ends with a flood of Washington D.C. The lack of sharp focus or narrative drive is remarkable.