If you’re a fan of the Dexter Morgan books by Jeff Lindsay and you haven’t read the third book then stop reading now.

In the third book we find out that Dexter is possessed by a three-thousand year old demon. Right. I’d like the books so much (prior to this one) because Dexter seemed like a real sociopath. Perhaps Lindsay really needed a third book and this was his only idea–to blame Dexter’s homicidal feelings on an evil that flits from one being to the next, as it has been doing since the dawn of time. Nice. This is up there with explaining Hannibal Lecter away by his childhood trauma. Monsters just need to be monsters. Leave my monsters alone, dammit!

At least Lindsay didn’t make him a normal person by the end, something that looked likely and frightened me more than anything Dex had ever done to anyone. I did like that the intense pain that he had to feel before getting his evil back was the realisation of what “normal” life would be like. It is rather terrifying.

And as a sidebar-The cover should have been my first clue. Just look at that travesty up there. How did we go from this:

and this:

to that thing up there?

[2012 Update: I stopped reading the novels after this one. It wasn't a conscious decision, I simply lost interest. I still watch the show, which seems to be Lindsay's way of fixing all of the problems in the books.]

[This post is from a previous blog. Original post date: 7 Dec, 2007]

Which is one of the many reasons Greg Rucka’s artwork in Whiteout is so amazing.

Other reasons are the genuinely unpredictable storyline, well-rounded characters and unusual setting– Antarctica. There are several permanent bases on the ice and each one is run by its own government–US, UK, Russia. Cassie is a U.S. Marshal who was sent down there after she killed a criminal in her custody. It was self-defense but a brutal killing is a brutal killing. Near the end of the season–just before the population at McMurdo drops from 1,200 to 200 for the winter–there are a series of murders that she’s charged with solving before everyone leaves the ice.

She winds up teaming up with Lily, an Englishwoman from Victoria station in order to solve the case. Their relationship is complex and interesting and I learned a lot about Antarctica, mostly that I never want to go there. Four stars.

[This post is from a previous blog. Original post date: 23 January, 2008]

I’ve recently come into an abundance of comics and have been trying ones I hadn’t seen before at my local comic shop (no fault of theirs, they have so much I get overwhelmed and stick to the few comics with which I’m familiar). American Virgin by Steven T Seagle is one of those finds.

Adam Chamberlain is a 21 year old hardcore Christian who advocates abstinence prior to marriage. He’s at university to become a minister or preacher–that hasn’t been clarified yet–and is quite charismatic, getting teens to sign virginity pledges. In the first issue his long-time girlfriend (whom God told Adam would be the only one he’d love or be with) is in Africa doing aid work when she’s killed by a terrorist. Adam gets his half sister, Cyndi to go with him to Mozambique to avenge her death. During the trip Adam begins seeing more of the world and learning that not all Christians are as single-minded as he is about their bodies.

Overall themes are spirituality versus carnality–how decisions we make now affect the next phase. The characters are believably complex and the artwork is grittier, though not noir-like. (Sorry, I’m not yet accustomed to reviewing art.) The first storyline is four issues long and I give it four stars.

[This is from a previous blog. Original post date: 25 January, 2008]

I’ve been reading Smothered Dolls by A.J. Morlan, which was sent to me by a book-friend who knows my tastes better than me, apparently. I’ve never thought of myself as a horror fan, but these stories kept my interest. The first story is the most autobiographical and the afterword where Morlan explains the inspiration for the story is gasp-worthy.

Calling Morlan’s work ‘horror’ doesn’t do her justice–it’s too small a box. Yes, some of her stories are cringe-inducing–I couldn’t finish one about snakes in carousel horses–but others are speculative fiction. Two of my favourite stories are of that type. One is about what would happen if a person could bring dead animals (or people) back from the dead and if that was the only chance that person had to die. Meaning that they couldn’t be killed after their resurrection.

Another story I quite enjoyed was about civic duty. If you’re name gets chosen for you to participate in a justice system then it’s an honour and you’d better do your bit, right?

The only critique I have are the afterwords after each story explaining how the story is connected to the author’s life. Sometimes it’s interesting to know how an author’s writing is affected by their life. Other times it ruins the mystery. Morlan went a little overkill with her afterwords, but if a reader is more interested in what an author does with the truth than the actual truth he or she can skip the afterwords easily enough.

Of course, how you’re going to get a copy of this book is anyone’s guess, as I read the ARC and the specs on the back list it as being $44. On Amazon it says there were only 500 signed copies.

Anyway, here are the stories (most of which have appeared in other places) and my rating:

“Smothered Dolls” or “The Girl Who Could Never Be Good”: 4/5. Yikes.

“The Second Most Beautiful Woman in the World”: 4/. Georgia O’Keeffe inspired story about one of those contests where a person wins a vehicle if they keep their hands on it the longest. I wouldn’t consider it horror, but something about it is haunting. The descriptions of O’Keeffe’s paintings are wonderful.

“No Heaven Will Not Ever Heaven Be”: 3.5/5. Enormous painted cats look out for their creator.

“The German Lady”: 4/5. Very nice fair-tale for grown-ups. More interesting than scary.

“Civic Duties”: 5/5. Excellent speculative fiction.

“Powder”: 4/5. The second most disturbing story in the collection, just after the first story.

“In a Fine and Verdant Place”: 5/5. Based on a real-life serial killer, this one is one of the best.

“Dora’s Trunk”: 3.5/5. Interesting take on the Pandora myth.

“Yet Another Poisoned Apple for the Fairy Princess”: 4/5. Shiver-inducing modern fairy tale for adults. This one made me chuckle, actually, but I’m a little twisted.

“The Gemutlichkeit Escape”: 5/5. I never thought I’d read anything that’d make Hitler interesting, but here it is.

“The On’ner”: 4.5/5. Finest speculative fiction. Very thought-provoking.

“Tattoo”: 4/5. This one made me cringe a bit, but the concept behind it was quite interesting to me. It’s about a victim of a gang rape who takes back her body using tattoos.

“Need”: 4/5. Written in the earliest days of the internet, this is one of those stories where a person writes awful things that then come true. Even though it’s a fairly well-trod theme this story was well done.

“And The Horses Hiss at Midnight”: 3.5/5. Jeebus, I couldn’t finish this one. I have a thing about snakes and genitals. I got through most of it and what I read was written well enough.

“Milan, March 1972″: 4/5. About an artist who becomes obsessed with a particular photograph of a model who killed herself in his apartment. The descriptions of his artwork make this one a great read. Any author that can describe food, music or paintings evocatively gets my respect.

[This review is from an earlier blog. The original post date was 27 November, 2007]

Last night I finished reading Spook by Mary Roach and it was a good time, particularly for the cynics out there. She, the perpetual skeptic, goes in search of scientific proof of past lives, ghosts and life after death, amongst other things. Her journey covers several continents and meetings with some of the most learned people in their respective fields, but rather than giving the reader answers she gives us the facts and lets us figure out what we believe on our own. Roach had me laughing out loud several times with her wry observations and self-depreciation and in the end I’m with her in thinking that the human mind has an enormous capacity to convince itself of whatever it wants to believe.

[This is a post from a previous blog. Original date: 29 July, 06]

[This post is from a previous blog. Original post date: February 24th, 2008]

On page one we meet the narrator, Ruby Lennox, the moment she is conceived and follow her (and the preceding two generations of her family) through key moments in their lives and the history of the modern world, including wold wars and coronations. The relationships between most of the characters are complicated as our own relationships and the moments of high comedy during tragedy happen just as they do in in real life.

The first Atkinson book I read was Case Histories and Atkinson’s signature is populating a living world with breathing characters and giving the reader a taste of those character’s lives as true as their own experiences. Funny and bittersweet, Atkinson has crammed an entire life into 400 very quickly read pages.

I’m surprised I hadn’t read more about Emily Dickinson before now. She’s definitely my sort of person in many ways. She wore the same outfit all the time (as noted in my previous post, I can certainly get behind that,)she loved to read, was a heathen, had red hair, liked people far away rather than up close and didn’t leave her house for decades. Prior to reading My Wars Are Laid Away in Books: The Life of Emily Dickinson by Alfred Habegger I only knew about the reclusive part. Well now I know loads more and I finally understand a good portion of her poetry. Before, I only knew I liked its delicacy and the way it sounded aloud, but now much of it makes sense.

I particularly enjoyed/appreciated Dickinson’s struggle with religion–she never became a full member of her church even though her entire family was–and her devotion to her work of growing into being a poet. Prior to this book I had some vague notion that Dickinson was rumoured to have had affairs (platonic) with women as well as men, but now I think she overwhelmed everyone she truly cared for in the way she was most comfortable–with words–heaping them upon those she loved with such ardour that no one could completely reciprocate and many took her to be a bit touched. I have a new respect and appreciation for this woman who, though she strove to perfect her art, probably didn’t know the enormity of her impact on the world of letters.

[This post is from a previous blog. Orig. date: March 3, 2008]

I read this one just after reading Behind the Scenes at the Museum , which was interesting, because both stories begin just before the birth of the narrator. In this case, Max Tivoli. He’s born an old man of about 70, meaning he’s young on the inside, but looks old on the outside. As he ages internally, he grows younger externally. This is the story of his life. It’s well-written and interesting, tying in historical events (the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, for one) and capturing the world through the eyes of a man who isn’t seen for who he is by the world.

About a day-long read, a fun and occasionally thought-provoking distraction.

[This post is from a previous blog. Orig. date: March 11, 2008]

A friend read a novel I’d written about a person who isn’t naturally violent but also has no empathy and therefore makes the perfect killer; this person is recruited to work for a privately-funded organisation that removes certain people from the general populace. It’s philosophical black humour. My friend said she really liked it and it reminded her of something else she’d read-a comic called Poison Elves . She let me borrow Sanctuary , the fifth volume in the series, and, lo’ amighty, it’s very similar to my novel. The main character is an elf named Lusiphur and he’s brought into a secret organisation of assassins. There’s quite the black humour, but happily, the similarities end there. I say ‘happily’ because I don’t want to get sued by anyone for stealing a character or storyline.

It is nice to read a sort of parallel universe story to my novel since I usually worry that my world is too dark and frightening to appeal to people. [Then again the ball of sunshine known as Hubert Selby was popular so I'm not sure if being too dark is possible.] It’s also nice to be able to experience a world like mine that’s just a bit different–it’s as though the comic were written just for me. I’d also recommend this one to anyone who likes the Dexter books by Jeff Lindsay. Solid four stars.

Finding Darwin’s God by Kenneth R. Miller does an excellent job of showing the people with a fish on their cars that they can have their god and science, too. That’s the first half of the book–-pointing out the flaws in the various Creationist arguments. The second half is supposed to be aimed at nonbelievers, I think, but his arguments then fall apart. He does make some excellent points about the main problems in the arguments from atheists, though, which made me examine the reasons for my own beliefs more closely.

One of his points that I found most interesting was that science and religion answer different questions–science offers explanations of how we’re here and religion handles the why. I hadn’t thought about it in that way, but it’s a fair point. (Unfortunately, some religious people would say they were put here to make nonreligious people crazy–as well as the people who don’t follow their own religion.) And I still think any person with half a brain should be able to figure out that life is less stressful if you’re not an asshole. Miller argues that if it were possible to argue the majority of people out of their religion then pandemonium would reign. Now, I want to give people credit for not being stupid but… yeah, he’s probably right. Some people will always need a supernatural boogieman to keep them in line.

My big problem with Creationists was that I couldn’t figure out why they didn’t just say, ‘God created evolution. Isn’t he clever?’ Which is Miller’s premise. He then goes to explain how that could be possible and how the god that did that would be much more interesting than a god who did everything in one day (or seven). One of my favourite bits was when he said that once a woman told him she didn’t believe in evolution because it would have taken too long and Miller thought, “Because god, with all of eternity, was in a rush.”

My other favourite part was when he referenced St Augustine (a 4th theologian) who begged Christians not to stand up in public and make fools of themselves about science because that only made all Christians look stupid. I’m thinking of quoting that bit to the next Bible-thumper who says the Earth is flat or what-have-you.

I was lucky enough to have lunch with Mr Miller after reading his book and I thanked him for at least giving us a way to get along. As much as I admire Richard Dawkins, I don’t think that doing away with religion would do away with all the horrible things on the planet–even without a god on their side jackholes would still be jackholes. There would still be wars over land and money and all those fun things, the only difference would be that the war-makers would have one less thing to use against their enemies. But you can turn a group of strangers into arch-nemeses without invoking their mythologies by simply pointing out all the other ways they’re different from you and yours. Yes, it’d be nice for everyone to be completely rational–I’d like to be more rational about some things–but I’d settle for people just not being jerks. Miller makes a step toward that on at least this one issue.

[This post is from a previous blog. Orig. date: March 13, 2008]

Why do seemingly intelligent, rational people believe in irrational, sometimes downright ludicrous things? Probably because the parts of the mind that appreciate cause and effect–even in places where it’s not there–allowed early humans to survive and adapt. In Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast: The Evolutionary Origins of Belief , Lewis Wolpert attempts to explain the evolutionary principles behind the billions of people today who believe in supernatural things with no scientific corroboration. For example, people who believed in the same god would flock together and would therefore be safer than the atheists who were off on their own just getting on with things.

While Wolpert isn’t the most exciting writer, what he has to say is interesting and makes many good points e.g. the cause and effect of learning how to use early tools is the same thought process that concludes: something made the sky and that something is probably like me so there is a sentient being out there in charge. He also doesn’t go into as much detail as I’d have liked, but the book is a good explanation of why people believe unbelievable things. I give it four stars.

I picked up Richard Watson’s The Philosopher’s Diet because I’d loved his The Philosopher’s Demise about his attempts to learn to speak French in his fifties. It was an interesting enough read though it’s not going to change my life at the moment.

Geared towards people who want to lose twenty pounds and keep them off, chiefly by changing what they eat and how they think about food (and by running four miles a day), this book is reasonably inspirational and quite informative. Watson is anti-sugar, salt and white flour and pro small farmers and range fed meat. He’s all about destroying the corporatization of America and taking control of one’s own life by taking control of what one consumes.

The philosophical sections were much more interesting to me than the dieting sections for obvious reasons. The best part of reading this book was that that night I dreamt about the biggest milkshake ever. It had chocolate, vanilla and coffee ice cream in and whipped cream with caramel and chocolate on top.

I woke up and bought the ingredients and made them.
And they were blinding, man. Just blinding.

[This post from a previous blog. Orig. date: April 06, 2008]

Obedience to Authority by Stanley Milgram must be one of the most chilling, most important books about human psychology and it should be read by every person over sixteen years of age. The study was inspired by Eichmann’s assertion that he was only doing his job. How could a rational human being knowingly send other people to their deaths? The fact that he only shuffled papers like the mid-level bureaucrat that he was made no difference. Simply knowing your actions would cause death should be enough to make a decent person stand up and say, ‘No! I’ll not contribute to this inhumanity in any way!’

The belief was that Americans were fundamentally different from Germans–-an American would never knowingly cause pain to another human. Milgram thought that most humans follow authority figures so he devised an experiment wherein a man in a white, lab coat asked a volunteer to deliver a series of increasingly painful shocks to another volunteer. The second person was really an actor who only pretended to receive shocks-his cries for help had been recorded by an actor. When the majority of subjects went right to the top of the shock board (seen above) Milgram began adjusting the conditions of the experiment to see under what conditions a typical American would refuse to harm an innocent person. The results were fascinating. I dare you to read this without your jaw dropping.

This site has videos about the experiment, as well as a link to the, equally unsettling, Stanford Prison Experiment .

You know what’s fun? Laughing at people with bigger opinions of themselves than justified. You know what’s more fun than that? Laughing at people with more talent than you.

If you enjoy doing either of those things, boy, do I have a book for you: The Digested Read by John Crace. It’s a collection of his columns in the Guardian that, yes, you could read for free online, but it’s not very easy to take your laptop to the loo with you, which is where this book is best read. That’s not to mean that if you run out of bog roll you would want to use it (though some of the authors satirized may think that’s a cracking idea) but that each column is 400 words long…and written in the style of the book being ‘reviewed’. Some made me laugh out loud, some made me wince for the writer of the book, some made me want to stay as far from certain books as possible.

Crace’s weekly book reviews are of the book that got the most media attention that week. He then writes the column in the style of the author in question, thereby skewering any foibles or unfortunate tendencies of said author. This provides the reader with just enough info to get along fine at a dinner party–one can chat away about the most popular books of the day and do a fair impression of a person who doesn’t pay too very much attention to the books they read… or perhaps are quite bitter.

And here’s a link to his column on the Guardian’s website.

[This post is from a previous blog. Original date: April 12, 2008] [The link is current]

I’ve recently read Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon and I can see why Pynchon is so divisive. This is the first book of his that I’ve read but I’m guessing that his style is train-of-thought-y, which gets right on some people’s nerves. I have a high tolerance for interesting writing with very little plot, so I like it fine.

Gravity’s Rainbow reminds me of Catch 22 if it were written by Hunter S Thompson. It’s set during (and mostly just after) World War II and features characters from both sides of the equation. One of the main characters is Slothrop, who, due to some Pavlovian training as an infant, gets erections when in proximity to bombs. The military then wants to study him to see if they can use that information to figure out where bombs will be dropped and then to find a highly secret and dangerous bomb that’s still floating around after the war is over.

There are several other plot lines happening, none of which could I describe presently, but plot really isn’t the point of a Pynchon novel. That’s what I’m taking away from this one, at least.

Oh, and just for fun, Zak Smith has made one illustration for each page of Gravity’s Rainbow. It’s pretty impressive.