Occasional blogging, mostly of the long-form variety.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
TBogg Leaves
The always amusing and often savagely biting TBogg is retiring after 13 years of blogging. I hope he comes back occasionally, but thanks to him for all the snark, which sometimes contained a well-placed dagger.
Update: He's back! And at a new website. With all the great material out there taunting him, is it any surprise? Just when he thought he was out... they pulled him back in.
Thursday, August 01, 2013
RIP Doghouse Riley
Sadly, blogger Doghouse Riley (Douglas Case) of Bats Left/Throws Right has died at the age of 59. He combined keen, worldly insight with a smooth, conversational writing style. I linked his stuff a number of times during my Mike's Blog Roundup stints at Crooks and Liars, and Anne Laurie at Balloon Juice linked him often, but I wish more people had discovered him (and, as many people have pointed out, that he had a sweet gig as a regular newspaper columnist instead of some of the vapid twits we do have). His pieces on Indiana politics and the layers of Mitch Daniels's hackery were especially incisive. A number of fine tributes (with some great Doghouse passages) have been posted:
Roy Edroso.
World O' Crap.
Balloon Juice.
Lance Mannion.
Indiana blogger Doug Masson.
Scott Supak.
Charles Pierce.
Thrilling Days of Yesteryear.
The local obituary.
As Scott at World O' Crap passes on, "in lieu of flowers, the family suggests that memorial contributions be made to the American Heart Association."
Monday, July 22, 2013
Richard Matheson (1926–2013)
Master of speculative fiction Richard Matheson might not have been the most famous of writers, but he was certainly revered by many noted names (most of all Stephen King). And while the average American might not know his name, for three or more generations, the chances are good that at least one of his many stories has stuck in their memory – or even more likely, that it's haunted them.
Matheson was a superb craftsman, and he thought through the worlds he created, thinking of the consequences of this or that element, tweaking and refining, starting perhaps with a random spark of imagination but then chasing it down, puzzling it out, kneading it, cultivating it, letting it grow. I think what I appreciated most about his work was that he made his characters smart. In some stories, you wind up yelling at the screen or the page because the protagonist does something dumb. Matheson's heroes and heroines weren't immune to panic and fear, but they tended to be very intelligent and proactive about the daunting (or even horrifying) challenges they faced. They acted as we hoped we'd act if we had the wherewithal. And, as I wrote for the late Iain Banks, Matheson's "twists" tended to be excellent and much more than mere gimmicks. Matheson built toward haunting finales and sometimes turned a story on its head, making us look back at events or characters in an entirely different light. Not every working writer aspires to such pinnacles, and even for those that do, it's one thing to aspire, and another thing to achieve it. (And it's still another thing to achieve it so often.)
Some personal favorites, in mostly chronological order:
"Born of Man and Woman" (1950): One of Matheson's most famous and chilling short stories, bound to make you scared to go down into the basement.
The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957): It's been ages since I've seen this, but it was on television all the time when I was a kid. The tiny hero being tormented by a cat – and later a spider – made for tense viewing.
"Nightmare at 20,000 Feet" (1963): I first saw the version in The Twilight Zone film, but both it and the TV version are highly memorable. Matheson wasn't entirely happy with either version (and he gives good reasons), but the core of his story shined through, and he spooked many an air traveler's imagination.
Duel (1971): One of the greatest TV movies ever made, this was Steven Spielberg's first feature. It's skillfully directed, but immensely helped by Matheson's chilling premise and taut plotting, as an average man (Dennis Weaver) driving cross-country finds himself stalked by a murderous trucker whose face he can't see and motive he can't fathom. It's particularly scary because we can imagine it happening in real life; Matheson sells us on this.
The Night Stalker (1972): The TV movie that spawned the great but regrettably short-lived TV series. Matheson adapted Jeffrey Grant Rice's novel. It won't give away much to say it's the tale of a vampire in modern times (circa 1972). What I always liked about this is its believability. Given the premise, everything proceeds as it should. The medical examiner reacts with puzzlement to the victims as he would. The cops investigate the mysterious killer, and are dumbfounded by their findings. None of them believe in vampires, of course. But intrepid reporter Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) is more open-minded… and while he might be pursuing one hell of a scoop, he's also putting his life at risk.
I Am Legend (1954): Four movie adaptations and counting. This is probably Matheson's most famous tale, and rightly so. Countless post-apocalpytic stories have used it as inspiration or flat-out ripped it off, but no one has done it quite like Matheson himself. Who can forget the image of protagonist Richard Neville's neighbor Ben Cortman standing on his roof, or not imagine Cortman's voice calling to Neville in the night? Who can forget the intense, desperate loneliness Neville feels? Who can forget that killer ending? The bulk of the story is memorable and haunting enough, but oh, that ending. In the course of two to three pages, Matheson manages not only to flip the entire story, making us seeing it all in a completely new way, but flip the entire friggin' genre. If you haven't ever read it and don't know the ending, buy it or check it out from the library. You'll see why Richard Matheson earned his reputation as a true master.
Rob Vaux sums it up nicely in his memoriam:
The late Richard Matheson isn’t a household word like many of the writers and filmmakers he inspired. Science fiction fans always perk up at his name, but run-of-the-mill folks don’t recognize him like they do, say, Stephen King, Steven Spielberg, Rod Serling or George A. Romero. And yet all four of those gentlemen owe a considerable debt to him. His legacy extends beyond the dozens of novels, short stories and screenplays he penned to reach into the very fundaments of genre storytelling. This was the man without whom Serling might not have unlocked that door with the key of imagination. The man who inspired Romero to take a stab at the whole zombie thing. The man whose battle between hapless driver and crazy trucker launched the career of Spielberg. The man who King once cited as the biggest influence of his career. The man who showed us what life was like if the vampires won, how scary a house cat can be when you’re six inches tall, what dying of a broken heart truly looks like and – beyond the shadow of all possible doubt – that there was some thing on the wing of that goddamn plane.Read the rest. Also: Rob Vaux: "10 Best Richard Matheson Movie and TV Moments." Stephen King's tribute. Here's an excerpt of a much longer set of interviews with Matheson from the Television Academy Foundation. (There's some great stuff here for fans, even if you only watch the highlights.) NPR: Obituaries from All Things Considered and The Two-Way. The Los Angeles Times obituary. The io9 remembrance. Shock Till You Drop's remembrance. Feel free to link any other remembrances in the comments.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Monday, July 08, 2013
Crooked Timber's 10th Blogiversary
The thoughtful, erudite, and whimsical site Crooked Timber turns 10 today. Head over to say hi. (One of the best posts, from last July: "Let It Bleed: Libertarianism and the Workplace." If you read the threads and backtrack through the links, particularly the previous posts linked in the opening, you could easily wind up reading for hours. It's great stuff.)
Saturday, July 06, 2013
James Gandolfini (1961–2013)
I was sad to see that James Gandolfini had died at the relatively young age of 51. To expand on what I've written elsewhere, I saw Gandolfini on stage in God of Carnage in 2011. The play is slighter than Yasmine Reza's other hit, Art (a comedy with moments of depth), but both plays are fantastic actor showcases. Gandolfini and his costars (Jeff Daniels, Marcia Gay Harden, and Hope Davis) were all great. Gandolfini always gave a very natural, grounded performance. The nuances, shifts and tiny beats in his longer speeches in The Sopranos – normally with Dr. Melfi – really were a joy to watch. He made it look easy. (In the Loop is another of my favorites.)
Justifiably, his most famous role was Tony Soprano, the crime boss and central figure of David Chase's TV show The Sopranos, which became a cultural phenomenon. The character Tony Soprano was smarter (and definitely shrewder) than most of his fellow gangsters, but it was the little touches of human insight – along with the refusal by Chase and Gandolfini to truly sentimentalize the character – that really made him great. (Roy Edroso writes well about this.) Tony was in the bulk of the scenes in almost every episode. Gandolfini essentially had to carry the series, sell the whole affair, and boy, did he. It's not as if he was just playing himself, either – he famously said, "I'm a neurotic mess. I'm really basically just like a 260-pound Woody Allen." To perform at the level he did – and sustain it – requires a serious dedication to craft along with superb intuition. The Sopranos became such a hit it might be easy to underplay or even forget how much of a coup it was for an actor who wasn't terribly well-known and didn't look like a typical leading man to get that part, and how uncommon the role itself was.
Let's take a look at two scenes. You can consider them and everything below minor spoilers. Several people linked and discussed this one (alas, the image is slightly distorted):
What's your reaction? For me, I'm drawn in, even seduced, and then pushed out. The beats/shifts are well-written, and Gandolfini hits them beautifully. This is a quintessential Tony-Melfi scene. He tells a story, it's somewhat funny but has a hard, even cruel edge, yet he shows surprising insight… only to undercut that at the end. The structure even mimics that of a joke, with Melfi giving the setup for Tony's topper at the end. If there's an audience surrogate in the series, it's Dr. Melfi; like us, she's observing Tony Soprano, and thinks she understands him, and may even become sympathetic, but may just be getting conned by a sociopath. (This becomes an explicit concern of hers late in the series.) Tony often shows these moments of striking insight into human nature and his own past conduct, and as an audience, we can marvel at this, even admire him, and think that he might change. But Chase and Gandolfini don't let us off that easily. What's Tony's last jab about, mocking Jimmy? Is he just regressing, unreflectively slipping back into familiar behavior, and making a joke he's made dozens of times before to get a laugh? Is this covering behavior, Tony rejecting his momentary vulnerability (but also his own insight)? Is there any real change, let alone progress? Laugh at the last gag, and you've become complicit. More likely, you feel disappointed in the briefly-insightful Tony mocking Jimmy again – and that means you've been seduced, perhaps conned, and complicit in a slightly different way. Either way, most of us keep watching.
"God is a luxury I can't afford." It's a fantastic character line in Woody Allen's great film Crimes and Misdemeanors, and it fits many of the characters in The Sopranos, perhaps most of all Tony and his wife Carmela (Edie Falco). Many critics (especially Emily Nussbaum) have commented on the scene where Carmela seeks counsel from a psychiatrist about their marriage, and is sternly warned to take her children and leave her current life, one of comfort built on evil. ("One thing you can never say, that you haven’t been told.") It's a striking, memorable scene. But not surprisingly, Carmela balks at this advice. She's willing to make some sacrifices, perhaps, but not that much. She wants to make a bargain. She's very much like her husband in this respect. In the very first episode, and for the bulk of the series, Tony Soprano doesn't truly want to change his way of life, certainly not to abandon his life of crime – he just wants his panic attacks to stop. Similarly, it's arresting to see the mafia dinner late in season 1 after seeing the entire series; so many of the characters are eventually killed off. This life takes its price. And Chase and Gandolfini don't let us completely off the hook as viewers, either.
Here's another great scene from late in the series:
Again, it's a well-written scene (and that shouldn't be overlooked), but it's also simply a superb performance. Straightforward emotion is relatively easy to play, but emotion under restraint, a character in true turmoil, wrestling with something, switching tactics, bargaining, anger at his son and Melfi but also self-loathing and guilt, losing it briefly and pulling himself back – that's really something. As an actor, Gandolfini is grounded, real, in the moment, fully present, and this makes Tony Soprano dangerous, sympathetic, and human. Not every episode had a scene this strong, but more than a few did, and most of them had scenes that came close. The Sopranos could boast a fine ensemble cast, and had some superb writing and directing, but it depended on James Gandolfini pouring himself into the role of Tony Soprano and selling us on it throughout 86 episodes. He was the real deal.
Many great actors never get a chance at such a role, but we're all lucky Gandolfini did. (And by all accounts, he was very grateful for it. I've heard several stories about the lavish gifts he got his fellow actors after his big contract.) RIP – he left us far too soon.
Other articles and tributes:
Roy Edroso.
Slate: "The Longform Guide to The Sopranos. A useful compilation of good articles.
Matt Zoller Seitz: " A Great Actor, A Better Man."
Gandolfini on Sesame Street.
GQ: "The Night Tony Soprano Disappeared."
Emily Nussbaum: "How Tony Soprano Changed Television."
David Remnick: "Postscript."
LA Times: Obituary, appreciation 1, appreciation 2, industry reactions, and remembering his stage work.
NY Times: Obituary, reactions, and a 1988 piece about "apartment gypsies" with Gandolfini before he made it big.
Condolence threads by Lawyers, Guns & Money and Balloon Juice.
Finally, the blog Master of Sopranos has "the definitive explanation of the end" of the series. This is exhaustive and very well done. (Honestly, when I watched the end, I thought the visual syntax of the sequence strongly pointed in one direction, and the only reason I found myself second-guessing my reading was because I thought David Chase was trying to achieve an ambiguous, open ending.) In any case, a memorable piece of work.
Thursday, July 04, 2013
Independence Day 2013
Happy Independence Day! I tend to rerun some mix of these tunes each year (plus some spoken word pieces), but it's hard to beat 'em for the occasion. Every nation has things in its past it can take pride in and things to be ashamed about (and that's certainly true of the present as well in the U.S.A.). But as E.J. Dionne wrote back in 2006 for July the 4th, "The true genius of America has always been its capacity for self-correction." That spirit always needs nurturing, though. It helps to celebrate...
The soulful:
The wild and expressive:
The revolutionary:
The playful:
And the equality-loving and free-spirited:
Have a good Independence Day! Feel free to link any of your favorites for the day in the comments.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Camera Obscura – "Fifth In Line To The Throne"
This is a track from Camera Obscura's new album, and it seems appropriate to keep with the Scottish theme this week.
Wednesday, June 05, 2013
Iain Banks (updated)
Prolific and talented Scottish author of sci-fi and "straight" fiction Iain Banks, 59, is dying of terminal gallbladder cancer. The news has been out since April, but with the rash of recent deaths, I've commented elsewhere on this development yet haven't posted on it. Plus, it's rather depressing. Along with Gene Wolfe, Iain Banks is probably my favorite author of speculative fiction currently working. (Actually, both rank among my all-time favorites.) When I first heard the news, I had recently finished Banks' latest sci-fi novel, The Hydrogen Sonata (a Christmas gift), and had just started rereading Excession, because I hadn't liked it much the first time and wanted to give it another chance. His publisher is moving up the release of his final novel (non sci-fi), The Quarry.
You can read Iain Banks' original announcement here. A tidbit:
most of his other sci-fi, and a few of his non-sci-fi novels. My favorites are The Player of Games, Use of Weapons and Surface Detail. (I've read the first two books three times apiece; I tend to return to my favorite sci-fi from time to time, in some cases because I find elements problematic.) If you haven't read any of the Culture novels, the Culture is a galactic civilization in a post-scarcity era, large and powerful but peaceful by inclination, communitarian and fairly utopian. When roused to force, though, it can be formidable. You can read more about the Culture here or in the io9 post; I'll avoid describing it much more since some of its nature and abilities might be more fun to discover in the course of reading, but it bears mentioning that the Culture has non-biological citizens, most notably drones (advanced AIs, normally smaller than a suitcase) and Minds (highly-advanced AIs that control the Culture's ships as well as artificial worlds shaped liked rings called Orbitals).
Banks' work does feature recurring themes, motifs, and similar characters. Several of his novels feature a maverick warrior (often a mercenary), usually male. His female characters tend to be well-drawn. Almost all of his novels focus on outsiders, people on-the-fringe or otherwise fiercely (sometimes quietly) individualistic. Because the Culture is effectively a utopia, plots naturally focus on individuals who are restless in "paradise" and want to explore the universe or experience something new (often through the Culture groups Contact or Special Circumstances). Cruelty and creative sadism also recur in many Banks novels, although it's not celebrated, apart perhaps from Mikado-like justice. (His novels aren't suitable for kids..)
Several of Banks' books weave between multiple characters and points-of-view, and his narrative structures can be quite intricate. He can succumb to sprawl and digressions, but these mostly tend to be fun, and in the best cases, everything flows and builds well. Additionally, the "twists" in Banks' novels tend to be excellent. My definition of a bad twist is one where the writer(s) go for a quick shock that subsides and winds up making the story less interesting than before (see for example, the Final Five in the rebooted Battlestar Galactica, Matchstick Men and most Shyamalan movies). In contrast, Banks creates plot developments with depth; his shocks aren't just cheap gimmicks and the effects last. (For example, I anticipated one of Banks' biggest twists, and it made me appreciate the book more, not less.) Banks' "twists" make us rethink a character or major preceding events – but with more complexity and depth. The proof is that his material stands up so well (and can even improve) upon rereading. His best works will stick with you, whether it be haunting. charming or dazzling.
Here are some cursory comments on the Banks books I've read, arranged by genre and publication order:
Sci-Fi (Culture)
Consider Phlebas: The first Culture novel, it focuses on the Idiran-Culture war, which is sometimes referenced in later novels. Taking its title from a line from T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land, the novel is often called a space opera and/or a send-up of them; the Idirans are a fairly standard rapacious galactic empire, while the Culture is, as described above, communitarian, slightly anarchist, and peaceful in general disposition. The protagonist is Horza, a shapechanger and mercenary, member of a dwindling race. He's working for the Idirans because he feels the Culture is bloodless, soulless, and that its machines (the Minds) are its true rulers; one of the key relationships is between Horza and a Culture agent as they vie for an important military asset. It's interesting that Banks chooses to introduce the Culture through its critics and foes, and the book's a quick and easy read, with plenty of action. This one has its devotees, and I liked reading it, but didn't love it. I'm going to give it another chance – it suffered in my estimation because I'd read (what I consider to be) stronger, more inventive and deeper novels by Banks first.
The Player of Games: This is the first Banks novel I read, and still my favorite (by a slim margin). Gurgeh, the title character, is the greatest general player of games in the Culture. He's courted by Special Circumstances to represent the Culture in a periodic competition held by the Empire of Azad, which determines its emperor for a cycle by playing an extraordinarily complex game thought to represent sound rulership and the complexities of life itself. The game itself, like the empire, is called Azad; the playing of it is that central to this culture. (The Azad have three sexes and other peculiarities that the novel explores.) Banks gets a bit vague describing some details of the game (no doubt intentionally so; it's hard to conceptualize, let alone spell out in detail), but he does a fantastic job of capturing the mentality of a game-player or anyone else engaged in focused (and somewhat competitive) mental pursuits. Banks' talents for character and memorable scenes as well as his powers of sheer imagination are on ample display here. This novel is an excellent introduction to the Culture.
Use of Weapons: Special Circumstances agent Diziet Sma and her occasionally murderous companion, the drone Skaffen-Amtiskaw, approach a past hire, the mercenary Cheradenine Zakalwe, for an important mission. Half of the novel is told in forward time (the new mission), interlaced with flashbacks moving backward of Cheradenine's past adventures, plus a preface and a coda. This is justifiably one of Banks' most celebrated novels, because Cheradenine is (I would argue) the most memorable and fascinating manifestation of Banks' maverick warrior archetype, and each of his past adventures works excellently as a self-contained short story. The book also builds toward one hell of a conclusion, which you will not forget. The problem with the novel for me is that the new mission is so much less interesting than the flashbacks, and this storyline has a few setups that don't pay off. I view the novel as flawed but dazzling nonetheless, and I love it. (It topped a poll of British readers about the sci-fi novels most deserving of a film adaptation.)
The State of the Art (short stories and an essay, some of which deal with the Culture): The highlights of this collection are a novella with Diziet Sma (from Use of Weapons) visiting Earth and an essay by Banks about the Culture.
Excession: A Big Dumb Object (BDO) appears (the "excession" of the title, meaning something possessing properties completely outside of normal experience) in the shape of black sphere in space. The Culture and two other civilizations (one cooperating, one competing) investigate. Several conspiracies and long-simmering plots also feature in this one. More than any previous novel, this book focuses on the mighty and sometimes eccentric ships (or rather, the Minds that control them), the true powers of the Culture. (The ships typically sport creative, witty, and sometimes lengthy names.) Consequently, the novel gives a better view of the semi-anarchistic layout of the Culture, and the loose consensus-building, decision-making process it employs before major decisions. Many fans liked it for this reason. (As Isaac Asimov observed, science fiction is often about the background as much [sometimes more] than the plot and characters per se, an aspect that non-fans often don't understand or enjoy.) I liked this book better on a second read, but all the human characters are slightly unlikable, the many ships and their competing factions can be a bit hard to keep track of, and I still don't think the story completely pays off (but then, that's typical of BDO stories). That said, it has its moments (a cutting-edge Culture warship cuts loose), and if you've become a Culture fan, you might as well check this out.
Inversions: Featuring a Medieval setting of sorts, this isn't immediately recognizable as a Culture novel and does not need to be read as one. The main storyteller is Oelph, a young man who serves as the assistant to the accomplished and unconventional doctor Vosill (Oelph admires her skill and is also smitten). She is the personal physician to King Quience (it's a patriarchal society). There's something rotten in the state of Haspidus (the kingdom), with a conspiracy brewing, murders occurring, and both Quience and Vosill potentially in danger. Can Vosill and Oelph figure out the truth in time? A second storyline weaves throughout, focusing on the mavericky warrior of this tome, but it's not clear at first how it connects to the first story, or even if it's fiction, the truth or disguised reality. The book plays throughout with the idea of the "official" story versus the truth, the idea of truth versus appearances, and the question of which story you (the reader) prefer (similar to Life of Pi in this respect although the theme is not as central; Inversions was published three years earlier). Oelph makes for an interesting narrator, in that he reports events faithfully to the best of his ability but can be naïve about their true significance and doesn't always understand what he describes. This is an enjoyable, satisfying read.
Look to Windward: Taking its title from another line in The Waste Land, this novel works well as a standalone piece, but is an epilogue of sorts to Consider Phlebas and the Idiran-Culture War. Due to the speed of light being slower than hyperspace travel, a massive explosion (an induced supernova) in the Idirian-Culture War will be only now be visible at a Culture Orbital (an artificial world). The occasion leads citizens of various civilizations to make a pilgrimage to the Orbital to witness the event. While the pyrotechnics promise to be impressive, the mood is somber and funeral, an occasion for reflection. The key characters all have some connection to the war – one is haunted by it, one is still seeking vengeance, and one is a musician commissioned to compose a work for the event. This is one of Banks' more elegiac works, and it's memorable and affecting. (It was dedicated to Gulf War veterans.) My one complaint, without giving too much away, is that the Culture can seem way too powerful compared to some of its foes, and this power disparity can make things less interesting. I've seen some Banks readers cite this as their favorite.
Matter: Most of the action takes place inside a giant artificial world built as a series of concentric spheres. Such locations are called "Shellworlds," and were built for unknown purposes by a vanished race. (A mysterious and phlegmatic alien being semi-hibernates at the core of the world and is worshipped by many inhabitants as a "World God.") Periodic wars erupt between factions in the Shellworld, especially across levels, and a war and attempted coup provide much of the initial action. The prince of one faction has a sister who has been recruited by the Culture, and contacts her when he gets in trouble. Meanwhile, an archeological project on a lost cliff city exposed by a shifting river may uncover an artifact that could tip the tide. Perhaps I read through this one too quickly, but I felt that Banks was stalling until the last fifty pages or so, which take off like a rocket. I wasn't that interested in the political maneuverings inside the Shellworld, nor in its geography and peculiarities (and again, the background can be key in sci-fi, and certainly is here). To me, there was far too much setup and repetition, and then the novel became a suddenly gripping and very different (and not fully set up) story. Your mileage may vary, though, since apparently some readers rank this as one of his best.
Surface Detail: Several chapters, including the first few, make killer self-contained short stories. Banks' prose is electric here, and if there's one drawback to the crackling dialogue, it's that perhaps too many characters are verbally sharp, straining plausibility. But hey, it's great fun to read (also harrowing). As some reviewers have noted, this isn't a good Culture novel to start with, but if you get into Banks, you don't want to miss this one. It won't give much away to say that this is (among other things) Banks examining the concept of Hell in a sci-fi setting. Consequently, the sadism factor is higher than usual, but it's not celebrated. It's a thrilling adventure yarn (serially), with some of Dante's Inferno and the philosophical depth of The Myth of Sisyphus. It also stars one of the most memorable of Banks' Culture ships, the fiendishly clever and wryly menacing Falling Outside The Normal Moral Constraints. This is one of those works, as with Alfred Bester's classics or Memento, where I found myself marvelling at the sheer depth and breadth of Banks' imagination and how much extraordinary material he was able to pack into a single work. There's more in some individual chapters than exists in entire novels. (I feel the same way about certain sequences in The Lord of the Rings compared to other films. I'll have to revisit this novel at some point.)
The Hydrogen Sonata: Banks' latest and (alas) final Culture novel is an apt successor to Surface Detail – if that was about a sci-fi Hell, this is about a sci-fi Heaven. In the universe of the Culture, some highly-advanced civilizations choose to achieve "Elder" status and retire from mundane matters, while others choose to "sublime," which means leaving this plane of existence and entering some rarefied new dimension. (Few return from subliming, and they cannot satisfactorily describe it.) Civilizations really need to do this en masse with individuals subliming at roughly the same time, though, for it to be successful. The Gzilt civilization, which almost joined the Culture, is considered an ally, and has roughly equivalent tech, has decided to sublime. However, lower-tech civilizations are vying for scavenging rites, and new details of long-ago perfidy (possibly focused on the Gzilt's holy tome, the Book of Truth) may derail the subliming. The main character is Vyr Cossont, a Gzilt woman ambivalent about subliming and attempting to master the notoriously difficult "Hydrogen Sonata" of the title, which involves playing a ridiculously complicated harp-organ-type instrument (she's actually had two extra arms surgically added to accomplish this, which appalls her mother). Vyr once knew QiRia, an ancient and eccentric (even by Culture standards) humanoid who may know the truth about what happened ages ago, and she winds teaming up with the Culture ship, Mistake Not… to find QiRia again. But other, dangerous forces oppose them. This is a solid entry in the Culture series, significantly featuring the ships, and Vyr, QiRia and the Mistake Not… are memorable characters. (The book also features some striking settings and scenes, including a mobile, years-spanning, end-of-civilization orgy.) The "mystery" isn't much of one, since characters theorize about it early on, but the precise details and motives are more elusive. Also, one character become key for a few chapters, then drops from the action (of her own volition, but still). I wouldn't rank it with Banks' best, but it's good, and ends with a memorable image.
Sci-Fi (Non-Culture)
[Update—Against a Dark Background: This one features strong characters and striking images in a memorable, imaginative world where much technology has been lost (and some outlawed) and almost anything can be bought, for a price. Lady Sharrow is of a noble house fallen on hard times, and the cult the Huhsz have bought the rights to hunt her to the death for the period of one year. They hold a grudge against her family for a theft pulled off by one of Sharrow's ancestors, and believe her death is necessary to pave the way for their messiah (as they explain in a talk show interview). Sharrow must flee, and gathers together her old pilot combat team for help (they have a semi-empathetic bond). To rescue her imprisoned half-sister (with whom she has a tempestuous relationship) and possibly save her own life, she must find an ancient lost book and the last of the Lazy Guns, the only weapons that seem to have a sense of humor. This is an extremely engaging, entertaining read, and as with many Banks novels, I didn't want it to end. (The female friend who recommended Banks to me cited Sharrow and her sister as examples of extremely convincing female characters by a male author; she thought he really got them psychologically.) I'm more torn about the end, and like other readers, feel the last 30 to 50 pages are a bit of a letdown. For those who have read the book, Banks did pen an epilogue posted online that wraps up a few loose ends and makes for a somewhat more satisfying finale.]
Feersum Endjinn: Set on a future Earth facing catastrophe, this novel cuts between several main characters: Count Sessine, a military man who's been assassinated several times and is reaching the end of his chain of lives (you can be reborn only so many times); the chief scientist of the kingdom; a mysterious and odd woman who may have been sent by the "Crypt" (both a virtual reality and repository of knowledge); and a young "Teller" (skilled at plumbing the Crypt) named Bascule who's bright but can’t spell well. (He's probably dyslexic. In any case, his sections are written phonetically, as is the book's title. These sections might turn off some readers, but they get easier to read over time.) None of the main characters converge until the final stretch, and this is very much a puzzle novel, as the reader (like many of the characters) tries to figure out what's going on and piece everything together. It's not my favorite, but it's a solid piece of work.
The Algebraist: The main plot involves a humanoid anthropologist of sorts (Fassin Taak) who goes to study the Dwellers, a reclusive, secretive race of intelligent, long-lived, squid-like beings who live on gas giants. Meanwhile, an aggressive galactic empire is advancing. Much of the book is Banks explaining and Fassin exploring the world, mores, and history of the Dwellers. It's a good book, although I felt one storyline was built up and then dispensed with abruptly (that may have been an intentional gag on Banks' part; I'd have to reread it to be sure).
Transition: A mysterious organization called "The Concern" jumps through time and parallel dimensions, flitting from possessed body to possessed body, altering events for what they believe (or claim) is the greater good. Temudjin Oh (Tem) is one of their most skilled operatives, but he has wound up on the wrong side of the powerful Madame d'Ortolan in the organization, in part because of his past dealings with the renegade Mrs. Mulverhill. Tem winds up in peril and must use all his wits to extricate himself and take on his foes. Banks (as he often does) sets up multiple characters with interweaving storylines that converge near the end. The book also delves into some contemporary issues such as terrorism and torture. It's a well-structured piece and an entertaining read (with a few haunting scenes).
"Straight" Fiction
The Wasp Factory: Banks' first novel is a short, tight little tale about Frank Cauldhame, a teenager with dark instincts living near a small, isolated town in Scotland with his eccentric father. It's told in first person in the present with plenty of flashbacks; young Frank has experienced (and dealt out) more than his fair share of trauma. The wit is mordant and the humor dark, and Banks does a splendid job of depicting Frank's highly personal and idiosyncratic worldview. There's much more to be said about The Wasp Factory, but it would involve spoilers. Suffice to say that this debut proved that Banks was clever and a fine craftsman, but also possessed significant depth.
The Bridge: A stream-of-consciousness, dream state novel, seemingly with three protagonists, and an uncertain reality. It's been a while since I've read this one; I remember it as all right, but some people adore it (and it was at one point Banks' own favorite of his books).
The Crow Road: This novel is part coming-of-age story, part multigenerational, eccentric Scottish family yarn, and part mystery. This one's great fun, and while it's got Banks' usual dark humor plus a fair amount of tragedy, this is leavened by many lighter moments. The chief protagonist, floundering university student Prentice McHoan, is too headstrong and self-destructive for his own good, but he's also smart and a good soul. He struggles to pursue the object of his affection (his cool and lovely second cousin Verity), deal with his estranged father, and solve the mystery of his missing uncle Rory. The eccentricities of the extended McHoan family never feel forced or artificial; these are real, believable people, and it's hard not to like them (most of them, anyway). I was introduced to Banks' work by a friend who specifically recommended this one to me, and I'd rate it as my favorite of his "straight" fiction works.
Complicity: Banks cuts between two characters, the tale of an assassin told in second person and the tale of a reporter told in first person. Our erstwhile hero Cameron Colley, the reporter, is a mess; well-intentioned on some level, but addicted to drugs (and gaming) and carrying on an affair with a married woman. Meanwhile, the assassin delivers harsh if Mikado-like justice to "respectable" scoundrels such as arms dealers. Cameron winds up on the trail of the assassin, and there are twists and developments galore. This is a quick read, and it's well-constructed. As you may guess, the second person storytelling and the plot delve into the theme of the title.
Films
Two of Banks' works have been adapted for film to date, The Crow Road and Complicity (known in the U.S. as Retribution). Both were directed by Gavin Millar. (A few other works have been adapted for theater or radio; see Banks' Wikipedia page for more.)
The Crow Road (1996) is an excellent TV miniseries adaptation and was nominated for (and won) several awards. It stars Joseph McFadden as a likeable Prentice and also features Bill Patterson as his eccentric father, Peter Capaldi as his wandering uncle, Dougray Scott as his comedian brother and Valerie Edmond as the wry Ashley. David Robb and Simone Bendix also give memorable performances.
Complicity (2000), a feature film, doesn't fare as well. It stars Jonny Lee Miller, and also features Brian Cox, plus Keeley Hawes of Spooks/MI-5 in one of her earlier roles. There are good moments, but this is an instance where adapting the telling of the tale and not just the tale itself is important. It would need a stronger Hitchcock approach to fully work, and would be a challenge regardless. Some of the violence in the book is brutal, but it occurs mostly in the imagination, while here director Gavin Millar must butt against ratings boards. He coaxes decent performances out of the actors, but I don't think he cracked the cinematic aesthetic; a more visual director might have fared better, but likely still would have struggled. Basically, the film winds up being much more conventional than the book, although some of the more original elements from the source material do survive.
I'm currently working my way through some other Banks books, and may update this post later. If you're a Banks fan, feel free to weigh in in the comments (but please try to avoid or label spoilers), and if you enjoy speculative fiction and you haven't checked out Banks' work yet, it's well worth the effort.
I have cancer. It started in my gall bladder, has infected both lobes of my liver and probably also my pancreas and some lymph nodes, plus one tumour is massed around a group of major blood vessels in the same volume, effectively ruling out any chance of surgery to remove the tumours either in the short or long term. The bottom line, now, I'm afraid, is that as a late stage gall bladder cancer patient, I'm expected to live for "several months" and it's extremely unlikely I'll live beyond a year. So it looks like my latest novel, The Quarry, will be my last. As a result, I've withdrawn from all planned public engagements and I've asked my partner Adele if she will do me the honour of becoming my widow (sorry – but we find ghoulish humour helps). By the time this goes out we'll be married and on a short honeymoon. We intend to spend however much quality time I have left seeing friends and relations and visiting places that have meant a lot to us. Meanwhile my heroic publishers are doing all they can to bring the publication date of my new novel forward by as much as four months, to give me a better chance of being around when it hits the shelves.He's also posted an update. Here is his official site and the website set up by friends. The only good thing about all this is that you can write a note to Iain Banks so he can receive some extra appreciation directly from fans before he "sublimes." His author pal (and fellow Scot) Val McDermid has written an appreciation. The Guardian has a number of pieces by or on Banks. Meanwhile, the BBC has a radio interview with Banks about The Hydrogen Sonata and other material. (Crooked Timber and LGM hosted threads on Banks.) [Update: Sadly, it was announced on June 9th that Iain Banks passed away. From The Guardian: The initial news, an obituary, tributes, Neil Gaiman's remembrance and Ken MacLeod's. From the BBC: The initial news, an obituary, tributes, Banks in his own words and a fun five minutes with Iain Banks from 2012. Blog remembrance threads: LGM 1, LGM 2, Balloon Juice, Crooked Timber, Tor and io9. Annalee Newtiz of io9 also offers her take on "11 Rules of Good Writing That Iain M. Banks Left as His Legacy": (1) There are no good guys, (2) Utopia is not perfect, (3) Never give your protagonist a simple motivation, (4) History will fuck you up, (5) Political values can transform the fabric of time, (6) A planet is a terrible waste of matter, (7) Your intentions are only as good as your weapons, (8) Immortality and hard AI don't cause the apocalypse, but they don't really solve our problems either, (9) Astropolitics, not space opera, (10) The consequences of your adventurous episode will alter somebody else's entire world, and (11) There is a definition for evil, after all. Additionally, here's "A Few Notes on the Culture" by Banks and a 45-minute interview with Banks by Open University.] Banks' Wikipedia entry lists all his books. (I consider Transition sci-fi, as it was treated in the U.S. but not Britain.) Fans know that Banks uses his middle initial, M, for sci-fi and omits it for his other fiction. (One of many aspects I enjoy about Banks' work is that he refuses to be limited to a single genre; he jumps about between genres and also mixes them, quite successfully.) io9 has a good overview of Banks' nine Culture novels, although make sure to read the opening warning blurbs; the review of Surface Detail quickly moves into spoilers. I've read all of Banks' Culture novels, all
Monday, May 27, 2013
Memorial Day 2013
The Bad: It's been 10 years since the (Second) Iraq War started, leading to many a retrospective. I find it depressing but not surprising that so many hawks have learned so little, and so many still insist that they were wrong for the right reasons, while those damn hippies were right for the wrong reasons. It's all bullshit, of course. Worse than the merely unrepentant hawks are the rabid ones, who are typically but not exclusively right-wing. (As I wrote elsewhere, I guess it wouldn't be Memorial Day or 11/11 without idiots angrily proving once again that they are obstinately insensate to any deeper reflection or profounder meaning to the holidays.) Although 11/11 means more to me, both it and Memorial Day are meant to give one pause, to remember the truth of the saying that war is hell, and consider that it should not be entered lightly. Wars shouldn't be started, for instance, to prove one's manhood by proxy, sending others to die on one's behalf, or to enrich private corporations. The times character and wisdom really matter are for weighty issues such as war and human rights (torture, but also basic treatment and due process). "Hippie-punching" is childish and obnoxious, but the incivility aspect is a minor concern compared to the real problem – encouraging gleeful bullying in the democratic process and making bad policy decisions based on spite, greed and vanity.
The Good: People do exist that get it. If you want to read a great mea culpa on Iraq, check out John Cole's, originally written in 2008 and reran this year. The unrepentant hawks don't demonstrate a sliver of the integrity and courage that he does. Similarly, I see friends and acquaintances on blogs and social networks who write or link good pieces on Memorial Day. Some are military veterans, some have buried loved ones fallen in the line of duty, but most are just human beings with a general sense of decency. It's not a difficult puzzle to solve. But as long as such basic wisdom (reluctance to go to war, especially without good reasons) is denied by pundits, politicians and paid shills, more people need to speak up.
Lastly, I usually catch the National Memorial Day and Independence Day concerts on PBS. They can be awfully schmaltzy, but I was impressed this year by two segments in the National Memorial Day Concert. One was a brief, harrowing account of D-Day, in a rerun segment featuring the late Charles Durning (a WWII vet who was a long-time participant in the concert, and got Joe Mantegna involved). The second was a lengthy dialogue between Joe Mantegna and Gary Sinise recreating the experiences of twin brothers in the military. One lost a leg in Iraq, while the other committed suicide stateside. The surviving brother, National Guardsman Staff Sergeant Earl Granville, attended the concert and understandably teared up during the segment; he's become a spokesman on military suicides and PTSD. I appreciated that the organizers used the concert not just to sing a few patriotic songs, but actually addressed the costs of war and reached out to military personnel and their families who might be suffering.
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