Alien, Aliens, and the Art of the Sequel (a review)

This week, I continued to chip away at the list of Movies I Have Not Seen And There's No Excuse For That. There's still a lot of films on this list, notably the Tim Burton era Batman films (and The Dark Knight Rises, I mean, come on, what am I doing with not seeing that?). But this week managed to knock two glaring entries off the list: Ridley Scott's Alien and James Cameron's Aliens. I've been meaning to see these for a while, especially because they've been in the pop culture consciousness a lot recently. Alien consistently shows up on lists of the scariest films ever made, I've read a lot of articles about this series on Cracked.com, a lot of discussion about the merits of Avatar include references to Aliens, and in the past five years we've seen not just a recent prequel to Alien but also the sequel to Alien vs Predator, and when they make sequels to crossover movies from overexposed franchises, not seeing the originals becomes akin to mortal sin for a film enthusiast like me. So when a friend of mine offered to show me both Alien and Aliens, I couldn't turn down her offer.

Before I continue forward, I should probably make good use of a SPOILER WARNING in case you, like me, have waited too long to watch these movies.

But that might not be terribly necessary for discussion of Alien, at least. There's not much I can say about this film that hasn't already been said. It is a very tight, very well-crafted horror film. The villain(s???) are threatening, the suspense is well done, the atmosphere is rarely broken, and except in one or two cases, the plot does not rely on characters making idiotic decisions. So you're not going to hear anything particularly novel on the topic of Alien from me.

No, what I really want to discuss is Aliens. A straight sci-fi action contrast to the first installment's Gothic-horror-in-space, I've heard a lot of opinions on this film in a number of directions. I mean, it's certainly classic: a lot of the mainstays and iconic moments come from this film rather than the predecessor. But there's a lot of discussion on whether this film is good or bad, better or worse than the original, an example of James Cameron as a good director or a bad director, etc.

I think there's a very strong reason for such split opinion. When this film is good, it is excellent action with high stakes. When this film is bad, it is cheese and schlock and questionable one-liners. Let's not be mistaken: this film has flaws. Space Marines are often kind of hit or miss, especially being everywhere these days, and Aliens has them in all their meatheaded, obnoxious glory. You won't feel for the ones that get killed off early, and you likely won't remember any of their names. The young actress who plays the little girl Newt is not very good at all, though at least she feels important. More than a bit of the dialogue is bad, many of the line reads are either flat or hammy, the list goes on and on.

I would argue that these flaws to not prevent it from being a good movie. But even more than that, I would state that this film is an example of how to make a fantastic sequel.

Sequels can fail for a lot of reasons. Airplane 2 made the mistake of trying to be exactly the same as the original. Indiana Jones 4 was hated because it wasn't enough like the originals. Iron Man 2 is unsatisfying because the stakes feel too low. Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and 3 spiral out of control by raising the stakes too high and too fast. A sequel has to have enough continuity without being a carbon copy, and it has to feel bigger while not getting away from itself. This has often been a difficult thing to do. Some times sequels are studio-slaughtered abominations of filmmaking. And even when a sequel is a great movie, like The Dark Knight, it can still be an ill-fitting sequel. So the balance between respect for the original and creating something new can be incredibly touchy.

Aliens hits this balance almost perfectly. James Cameron couldn't have possibly captured the same sense of suspense and terror that Ridley Scott managed in Alien; no one could have. So he made the right decision and didn't even try. Instead of focusing on the isolation and fear of a small group of untrained survivors fighting off a single unknown foe, Aliens brings in a squadron of marines with guns blazing against an army of hivemind xenomorphs. But at the same time, Cameron manages to hold back, showing the aliens in surprisingly few shots, much like the original. Additionally, Aliens expands on a lot of concepts and story presented in the first film, while never really contradicting existing mythos or derailing the one recurring character.

In Aliens, the stakes are higher and the action is grander. More people are involved, more lives are lost, but also more is risked on a personal level for these characters. The insider isn't acting merely on orders, he's acting out of self-interest, as idiotic as it might be. Ripley isn't just fighting for her life, she is fighting for the lives of the colonists and, when that doesn't work out, for one colonist in particular. There is a sense of pathos on some levels of this film that doesn't get achieved in many sequels, and indeed in many films in general.

Is Aliens as good or as tight of a film as Alien? Certainly not. Have better science fiction action films been made before and after it? Goodness me, yes. But Aliens succeeds on possibly the most important front for a film like it. It expands upon the original while keeping true to its roots as a story. Aliens is a fantastic sequel. And that, for me, is enough.

There's Nothing Wrong With That

I touched on a topic on Wednesday that I feel I should explain further. My daily writing, as I said, doesn't always have to be good, and this is one of the things that very much helps me to keep doing it. But this raises the question, I suppose, on whether or not that's a good thing. Does writing then become something I do to maintain a schedule or a habit? Is that the only benefit I gain from those days where no ideas come?

The reason why many people often don't like putting out sub-par work is probably related to the belief that writing without substance isn't truly practice. Certainly in the past I, too, have held this view. Something should be done right or it shouldn't be done at all. How can you practice if you don't practice doing something well? Why bother writing if you cannot show it to someone else? Why would you ever work on something that won't come to anything?

But the thing is that, as a writer, any writing I do helps. Every time I put my thoughts down in words, I am honing this ability in a certain way. Certainly, not all work is equal or produces the same effect. Writing a novel helps you in a different way from drafting an essay, and both of those produce a much different effect from everyday journaling.

But the point is that every type of writing that you do is helpful. Writing frequently in a number of styles allows you to experiment in order to find what works and what doesn't. The book Composition in Four Keys contains an essay by James Moffett called “I, You, and It”. In this essay, Moffett discusses the differences in various types of writing, as well as how ideas evolve alongside considerations for audience and the amount of thought and reflection that has gone into them. The argument continues by stating that if he were to teach a writing course, it would cover all sorts of different genre work before ever approaching argumentative essays. He probably says this far more eloquently than I could:

Many teachers may feel that such a program slights exposition in favor of so-called personal or creative writing. In the first place, one doesn't learn exposition just by writing it all the time. An enormous amount of other learning must take place before one can write worthwhile essays of ideas; that is in the nature of the whole abstraction process. All writing teaches exposition.(Moffett 27)

This is an important thing to keep in mind because it is something that so many people will judge you for. A lot of literary study seems all wrapped up in itself, arguments about the literary canon, this belief that there is a set collection of works that should be deemed literature and that nothing else contains any value. I have heard of creative writing professors who will severely downgrade students who write anything that is not strictly realistic fiction. I may be only a student, but as a writer, I have to say this is nonsense. The only thing you will learn by just reading the literary canon is how to be narrow minded and unoriginal. The only thing you will learn never challenging your writing style is how to get stuck in a self-recursive rut.

I myself feel inadequate a lot about the things I read. If you look at my summer reading list, there are some classics, but there are also a lot of young adult, fantasy, and humor books in there too. When I got back to school, I was discussing books with a classmate only to find out that the reading he did included Vonnegut, Cormac McCarthy, and a number of other things that were intensely cerebral and highly regarded. I honestly felt embarrassed, and I changed the subject.

But the thing is, I shouldn't have felt that way. There is a time and a place for everything you will read, from modern masters to literary classics to groundbreaking science fiction to erotic fanfiction to bad novelizations of blockbusters. Everything you read can influence you or inspire you in some way. My challenge to you this year, for every book you read for either fun or for classes, is to find something that really stuck out to you either as a good idea for later use or a bad idea to be avoided. Approach everything you read and write with the knowledge that it's a good decision.

On Writers' Block

Part of what helps me write every day is keeping in mind the fact that not everything I write has to be good or even presentable. My life has often been plagued by this notion that I either have to do something write or not do it at all, and I think I know a lot of people like that. It is the reason why the better portion of my education was dominated by the ever-present spectre of missing assignments, and it has always been the main thing that prevents my writing. I never felt that I could write unless I was inspired, unless I could figure something out in advance, unless I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I don't mean to say that I outlined, because I never did, but there was this unspoken agreement with myself that I should never produce anything that couldn't be shown to someone else.

I don't think I am the only person who has felt this way. So many people I have met have told me about their great idea for a book, or a play, or a seven volume series, but they always seemed reluctant to start until the moment felt right. The problem, however, is that the moment almost never feels exactly right. That sort of mindset will prevent you from almost anything you want to do. And I know that it's difficult to get past. Goodness knows it still stops me from taking action on a lot of ideas or emotions that I have.

But at least in the area of writing, I have gotten past that feeling. Even if I have nothing to write, I can sit down at a computer and write four hundred words on the fact that I have nothing to write. It's a rather freeing thing. I only regret that I had not found out the key to successful journaling in the past. For me, that key is a comfortable medium (in this case, computer and keyboard) and a suppression of critical instinct if needed. Anything you write can be revised. Ideas don't always come on their own; most of the time you'll have to force things out. And that is okay.

A Summer Reading List, Part 3

Seeing as classes start tomorrow for me, I cannot think of any better time to finish up my thoughts on the books I read this summer. Part 1 is here, Part 2 is here.

15. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

I already explained how I feel about this book earlier, but I figure it cannot hurt to gush a little more. For those not in the know, this is one of my favorite novels of all time, and this summer was probably my fourth time reading it. It's interesting that I haven't read this book as many times as some others of my favorites – Ender's Game and Speaker for the Dead by Orson Scott Card have been read five or six times already, and nothing comes close to the number of times I have read Jurassic Park and The Lost World by Michael Crichton. But that doesn't mean I love this any less than them. The perfect blend of ridiculous sci-fi, insane humor, and the most logical faulty logic in writing anywhere come together to make this one of the greatest books ever written. I also hope to reread the rest of the series soon; I've read Restaurant at the End of the Universe a couple times, but I've only read all the others once each. It's possibly because the series takes on a very different feel in the fourth and fifth books. They're still good though! They're just a little more cynical than even the others.

16. Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman

After reading Good Omens, I knew I had to find some more stuff by Neil Gaiman, and my eyes naturally settled on his well known works American Gods and Anansi Boys. On the recommendation of a friend, I started with the latter. At first, I wasn't particularly sold on it. It wasn't bad by any means, but I couldn't get into it. The first half of the book took me about two weeks to read. But then the second half of the book took me about two hours. Once this book gets going, it really gets going. It's fun, it's fascinating, and the characters are great. I've always been a sucker for mythical themes in fiction, and this is certainly no exception. A great book, and I recommend it highly.

17. 1984 by George Orwell

As an English student in years past, people had always been shocked by some of the books I haven't read, the two chief ones being The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald and 1984 by George Orwell. People have been pressuring me for years to read these books, saying that I couldn't truly call myself a student of literature without reading them. And since I eventually read The Great Gatsby at the beginning of this year, I decided it was time to finally get around to reading 1984. I'm glad I did. For me, it wasn't the most gripping book. I didn't particularly like or even care for any of the characters. But the book was tight. It was so well thought out, so thorough, that it almost felt real. There was some distance, obviously, but so many of the things that happened in this book seemed so logical that you couldn't help but wonder if these could be the natural progression of things. In my mind, of course, it would be basically impossible to pull off a society like that in today's world, and the book seemed to leave out exactly how a government like that could fully come to power. But in the world of the book, it is watertight in a way that is thoroughly impressive and terrifying. And when the events of the book are explained, when someone finally says why this all is happening, it's the most unsettling reveal I have ever read. This is a very, very good and thought-provoking book, but you probably did not need me to tell you that.

18. Henry IV part II by William Shakespeare

If you are a consistent reader of this blog, you might remember my thoughts on reading this play. But if you are not a consistent reader, and statistics indicate that you are not (Hello, Russia! I don't know why you are reading this!), then allow me to reiterate. I hated this play. I generally do like Shakespeare, and I enjoyed Henry IV part I, as difficult as it was. But I sorely disliked Henry IV part II. Perhaps some of the fault goes to the Shakespeare class I took recently, which informed me of the popularity of the character of Jack Falstaff, the charmingly insolent ruffian sidekick of Prince Hal (later King Henry V). Knowing that he was so well received makes me awfully suspicious of the merits of a play that gives him a much expanded role, similar to how a Hollywood studio might conceive of a sequel where a popular bit character is given greater prominence to the point where they focus on nothing else. In any case, the biggest problem with this play is the fact that almost nothing significant happens until the fifth act. That's honestly too much time to spend with nothing but Falstaff being sassy. It'd be like making a sequel series to a groundbreaking cartoon fantasy epic with a well-developed mythos and beloved characters and then spending half of it on playing sports and unjustified love triangles.

19. Steam Ticket: A Third Coast Review Volume XII Spring 2009

This might not completely count. This is a volume of a national literary magazine that is produced out of my university. I hope to get on the staff before I graduate, so I figured I should read some of it before I apply. It was good! I mean, there's not much else to say about it. There was an especially good story that imagined what R.L. Stine must be doing with his life now. It was equal parts depressing and hilarious. But there was a great mix of enjoyable poems and memorable stories. I look forward to looking into this magazine further.

20. Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Every English program everywhere has that one book that shows up again and again in the curriculum. At my school, that book is Frankenstein. A friend of mine had to read it five times before she graduated, and I myself have been assigned it twice. It's kind of a bad thing, then, that I'd never read it all the way through. Oh sure, I read parts of it, but I jumped around a lot to catch up in class, filled in some blanks with SparkNotes. I even wrote two papers on it without ever reading it all the way through. So naturally, I decided that it would probably be in my best interest to finally read the whole thing from front to back. This decision was aided by a particularly inexpensive hardcover edition I found in the Barnes and Noble clearance section. I like this book. It's dense, it moves too quickly at times and too slowly at others, but all things considered, I like this book. The nice thing about it is that it lends itself to so many different readings, messages and explorations. As long as I'm going to have to study a book over and over again, it's nice to know that it's a book that can be taught in a number of different ways. It's not light reading, not by any means. But if you have the guts and the fortitude, it's a pretty damn good book.

21. The Importance of Being Earnest, and Four Other Plays by Oscar Wilde

Ah, Oscar Wilde. This collection, featuring The Importance of Being Earnest, Lady Windermere's Fan, A Woman of No Importance, An Ideal Husband, and Salomé, has been sitting on my bookshelf for a while. I had been meaning to read it for the longest time, since the little I had read of The Importance of Being Earnest was fantastic. I finally did, and I must say it was a good decision. There is a reason Oscar Wilde is so well-regarded: his humor is incredibly tight and incredibly influential. I'd wager that the writers of Monty Python, Douglas Adams, and many others owe at least some of their inspiration to the man's writing. Granted, some of the quips get a little predictable after reading four comedies in a row, but the characters remain charming, the plots (while not necessarily groundbreaking) remain entertaining, and the plays remain thoroughly enjoyable. This collection also includes the tragedy of Salomé, the story of the daughter of King Herod and the death of John the Baptist. Some critics hate it, but as for me... Biblical themes? Again, I'm sold.

22. Selected Poems by Langston Hughes

If there is one poet who can challenge Billy Collins for the position of my favorite poet, it is Langston Hughes. His work is just so phenomenal, working in a number of recurring themes that overlap just as easily as they work on their own. This collection was selected by Hughes himself, arranged in several sections by either recurring themes or continuing stories. I've always loved his work on its own, and in this collection, it is absolutely sublime. The poetry I write has borrowed a lot from his style and influence, and his work will always be close to my heart. I may not be able to relate to the oppression and striving that he encountered and his poetry describes, but I will always, always love it. I thoroughly recommend this book, and all poetry by Hughes in general.

And here, with 22 books, is where my summer draws to a close. Tomorrow, I begin classes in my third from final semester as an undergraduate. I've changed a lot over the past year, and I've changed the way I view my work as recently as this summer. I've never read so much or written so much as I have in 2012, and a great deal of that is thanks to the reading and writing I have done almost every day this summer. I recommend all of these books very highly (well, except Henry IV part II, which I hated, or Kingdom Hearts, which was all right but not astounding) and I would love to hear what you think of them or what you have been reading lately.

A Summer Reading List, Part 2

Continuing from Wednesday, here's part 2 of my thoughts on all the books I read this summer.

8. Brooklyn, Burning by Steve Brezenoff

One of my weaknesses is young adult literature. Even better when it's kind of a romance. I can't help it! I've always really liked the way that sort of thing goes. Brooklyn, Burning is a really unique example of YA romance, however, and I really especially loved it. The romance isn't the only point in the book, large amounts of it concerning an arson investigation. Also, the main character's relationships with their parents, peers, and adult friends are very much important parts of the novel. A lot happens in a short space, and it happens really well. Plus, this book just hits a lot of the right emotional chords with me, with a lot of emphasis on music, movies, cities, and poetry. It took me a bit to warm up to everything, but when I did, I found myself engrossed in this book. A wonderful example of young adult, romance, and LGBT literature.

9. Rhinoceros and Other Plays by Eugene Ionesco

When I was in high school, I only ever got to perform in one play. And if it could only be one, I am glad it was Ionesco's Rhinoceros. Avant Garde absurdity about people turning into rhinoceroses? I'd never have looked at it before, but it exposed me to a lot of the things I love in studying literature. Plus it was just a hell of a lot of fun to perform. This was my first time rereading it since then, and it was such an enjoyment. This edition also includes The Leader, which is a lot of fun and not subtle at all, and The Future Is In Eggs or, It Takes All Kinds To Make A World, which is.... weird. But that's the point! Social commentary through batcrap craziness is something we could use a lot more of these days. Worth a read, but not for the faint of heart.

10. Looking for Alaska by John Green

There's that young adult stuff coming up again. This was great. After a long time of being told how awesome John Green is, I finally decided to see for myself. I watched some of his famous YouTube videos, and I really loved them, so it was only natural that I decided to go pick up some of his books from the library. I decided to start where he started, with Looking For Alaska. This is an excellent book. It took me a moment to get into it, because the characters were not what I was expecting. The biggest problem I've often found with YA literature is that my teenage years were rarely like it. But once I got past some of my preconceived notions, I actually found a lot in this book that hit home with me. I'm honestly kind of envious of the way John Green writes his characters: recognizable and consistent, very likeable, but also with a lot of realistic depth. This will certainly be one of my inspirations as a writer.

11. Ballistics: Poems by Billy Collins

My first exposure to Billy Collins was through his appearances on the incredible radio variety show, A Prairie Home Companion. My second exposure to Billy Collins was through his wonderful book, The Trouble with Poetry and Other Poems. My third was through so many literature classes. He's a fantastic poet, and he writes meaningful, accessible poems in a literary climate that doesn't like to call someone a true poet unless they deliberately obscure any sense of actual point in smug, jumbled pretense. That might be a generalization, but I assure you, Billy Collins is still a breath of fresh air among a lot of today's poetry. This particular collection does seem much more melancholy than usual, but melancholy has never been something Collins has shied away from. I might not recommend Ballistics as much as The Trouble With Poetry, but I assure you that reading it would not be a mistake.

12. The Fault In Our Stars by John Green

Well, I can't acquaint myself with John Green without reading his most popular book, now can I? The Fault in Our Stars was one of those books that really appealed to me as a reader and a writer. It has this wonderful focus on literature and the way people can develop personal relationships with books, which probably is a good part of what makes this book so beloved. Besides that, the main characters are very enjoyable, and their unique insight to the nature of mortality doesn't take away any of their familiarity at all. Plus, who can resist a novel that discusses the nature of Swedish hip-hop? (protip: check out Movits!)

13. Happy to Be Here by Garrison Keillor

This is a collection of short stories by one of my heroes: Garrison Keillor, the creator of A Prairie Home Companion. It was something of a slow read for me, as short story compilations tend to be, but I very much enjoyed it. A great mix of subtle comedy, absurd humor, and distinct melancholy fills this volume, just like all the best things Keillor has done. The best stories in this volume are the ones about radio – well, they were to me – but the others are good as well. There's a story that wonders what Washington D.C. would be like if it were more like Hollywood, there's a staff report for the world's least qualified baseball team, and there is a great tale about a young man in a high school punk band as they debate whether or not they should bite the head off of a live chicken. It's a great book, and even if you just read it a story at a time, I recommend it.

14. The Raven and Other Poems by Edgar Allen Poe

I was browsing the “Last Chance” bargain bin in a Barnes and Noble when I came across this really lovely publication of some of Poe's poems. I really liked the visual style, and I knew I needed to further acquaint myself with this legendary writer, so I picked it up. Though it wasn't the best book I read all summer, and wasn't the best poetry collection I ever read, I still very much enjoyed it. I don't really have much to say about Poe's poetry - I like it, but I'm not in love with it. Besides, what can I say here that hasn't been said much more eloquently by people who studied his work much more thoroughly? I will say that it definitely piqued my curiosity to further experience his writing. And again, it was very attractive, visually.

That's part 2! Part 1 is A Summer Reading List, part 1. Part 3 will be up on Monday!

A Summer Reading List, Part 1

This blog has been a little bit neglected for the past couple weeks, much to my own disappointment. I've just been very busy with preparing for my return to school, and sometimes that got in the way of the writing and updating I've been meaning to do daily. I have been doing it some, though, which I am very glad of. And I know neglecting this won't be a habit; updating this blog and daily reading and writing have been a source of great pride for me this summer. I will continue to do so.

But since summer draws to a close, I figured it would be a good idea to share my thoughts on what I have been reading over the course of May through August.

1. The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
2. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle

I've always really enjoyed Sherlock Holmes since I was a kid. Growing up, I read a short story here or there, watched adaptations on Wishbone, passively enjoyed a weekday morning cartoon that placed him in the 22^nd Century, things like that. And since then, I have loved the BBC's current adaptation, and have found myself pleasantly surprised by the films starring the incomparable Robert Downey, Jr. So this year, I managed to track down a few of the books and read them. Honestly, these two books could not be more different from each other. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes is a collection of some of the short stories, and each one is quick, direct, and concise. It's not bad, but sometimes it feels like the story ends just as it gets interesting. The Hound of the Baskervilles, on the other hand, wonderfully takes its time. There is a sense of enjoyment that comes from just the nature of the narration, the way words flow together and describe things in such a slow, lush way. This novel definitely takes the reader along with it, which stands in stark contrast to the short stories often featuring an arrest long before most of the evidence is even shown. I did enjoy both books, but it is not a stretch for me to recommend The Hound of the Baskervilles much more highly.

3 and 4. Kingdom Hearts volumes 1 and 2 by Shiro Ama

Not everything I read this summer was high literature. In this case, some of it was a manga adaptation of a popular video game franchise. In this case, it was Kingdom Hearts, a JRPG video game crossover between Square Enix's blockbuster Final Fantasy franchise and assorted Walt Disney films. If that sounds like an odd choice of things to crossover, it is. But the games work well due to enjoyable gameplay and beloved characters. You kind of lose the first half of that with a manga adaptation, though. But I can't really give this much of a review, since manga is a difficult medium for me to really get into. The way storytelling moves along in often cluttered pages is not something I find easy to read, at least when it comes to action series. But fans of the games and manga enthusiasts might have a different take on this.

5. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

I've been meaning to read this for the longest time, and I am quite glad I did. It was a very enjoyable read. It's always an interesting experience reading something that you know only from adaptations. I was surprised to find that Alice was not as sensible and blameless in things happening as some versions have suggested. Altogether it is a very fun children's book, and it can be read as a very interesting study on post-modernism, regardless of what the original intent was. Hey, I never said I wasn't pretentious.

6. Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

Though I read a number of good books this summer, if it came right down to it, this would be my favorite of them. I adored this book from beginning to end, and I had troubles putting it down. When the final page ended, I went back and read the publication information, praise blurbs, and every single other word in the book, just so that I didn't have to stop reading it. I could get into the plot, but that would take so long, and there are probably many other places that can summarize it coherently. I can say though that the characters are fantastic, the plot is great, its interpretation of Revelations is really interesting, and it is extremely funny when it tries to be funny, incredibly exciting when it tries to be exciting, and incomparably heartwarming basically all the time. Read it, you fools!

7. The Intrigues of Haruhi Suzumiya by Nagaru Tanigawa

This is the seventh book in a series of Japanese light novels that I am thoroughly enjoying. There are actually somewhere around ten books in the series, but they are being officially translated into English and released gradually. In any case, this was probably the best entry in the series since the fourth book. The pacing was good, and I was pleased to see almost every character get some development over the course of the book. A lot of the books will focus on just a few characters, or feature stories that really only develop one, but this novel managed to grow the roles of each main character and even one of the minor characters. A lot of questions are answered in this volume, and more than a few more are raised. This is definitely a great book in a great series.

That's the first seven books on this list, making this part 1 of 3! I'll continue this on Friday.

Wild Green Thoughts

I've been thinking a lot lately about how other people perceive me. I know this is generally not a good thing to do, but I haven't been thinking about it in a way that makes me nervous or bad about myself. I more mean that I have just been curious about what other people say when they talk about me. I know they do – everybody is talked about to some extent. You exist to other people when you are not interacting with them, just as they exist to you. I've just been really curious how.

I think part of this curiosity has come about because of the books I've read recently. I'm currently reading a collection of five plays by Oscar Wilde, and it begins with a brief rundown of his life followed by an introduction that discusses his life and its effects on the things that he wrote. The biographical briefing is only a few pages long, hitting only the most important parts of his career. I started wondering if those points that the book deemed important would have included all the parts of his life he considered significant. Biographies are wonderful things; I want to be the kind of person they write biographies about someday. But I can't help but wonder how much they leave out. Would Oscar Wilde's autobiography look different from the ones written by everyone else? Does one exist? I don't think one does, otherwise I am certain this biography would have mentioned that. That, at the very least, seems like something they wouldn't leave out.

But if, against all odds, a biography about me gets written some day, I can't help but wonder what would be in it? Certainly there wouldn't be a passage about every single person I dated in high school or college. What would be considered the turning point? Where would they say my big break came? I might just be wondering these because I'm trying to figure out what my plan is after graduation. But I do think these are interesting things to consider. A biography absolutely cannot include everything about someone's life. Considerations must be made for cultural significance, what is interesting to read, and the fact that extremely long books can often be intimidating for publishers and audiences.

However, this question of mine doesn't just come from the introduction to a collection of plays.

This summer, I also read two novels by John Green: Looking For Alaska and The Fault in Our Stars. I loved both of these books, of course; I'm not the one person in the world who doesn't like John Green. I might have been rather reserved at first, going into Looking For Alaska, but once I let my preconceptions about the characters go and allowed them to speak for themselves, I really found myself in love with the book. After the heartbreaking and lovely ending that was that novel, I went excitedly into The Fault in Our Stars and found exactly what I was hoping for. John Green writes young adult novels the way I wish I did. His characters are flawed but infinitely likeable. The emotion is always palpable between them, and their dialogue switches well between quick and lengthy. Not to mention I felt tears in my eyes at the end of both novels. I'm not afraid of that.

In The Fault in Our Stars, there is a big deal made over the significance or insignificance of funerals. Now, discussion over the validity of eulogies isn't particularly new. The Orson Scott Card novel Speaker for the Dead concerns itself with this as the majority of its underlying plot, and, putting aside my polar differences with Card's personal philosophy, that will still always be one of my favorite novels. But whereas Speaker for the Dead decides that the only way to truly remember the dead is to put their full, uncensored past on display, the characters in The Fault in our Stars disagree. While they hate the superficial nature of eulogies, the cliches that are spouted, the sugarcoating that happens, they ultimately decide that a funeral is never really for the person who died. Rather, they say, it is to comfort those left behind.

And while I would agree with that, I would also disagree with a larger theme that plays out in both Green novels. There seems that the characters hold a great deal of resentment towards those who are left behind. Not the close friends, of course. But many of the characters state that they feel that people who mourn but weren't close are fake or insincere in some way. I am inclined to disagree with that. Maybe I'm not the best person to state this, since I haven't particularly mourned the passing of anyone in a long time, but I think that someone touches the lives of a lot more people than they realize. Sure, there might perhaps be those who pretend to feel bad just to get attention, but I legitimately believe there will me more people than someone might expect at their funeral.

I think my point is that I would be curious to see who would be present at my funeral. That's something of a morbid thought, I suppose. I'm certainly not wishing for death, or even contemplating my own at all. I just really do wonder how I would be remembered if I was gone tomorrow, or how I will be remembered when the time actually comes. This isn't out of some vindictive spirit, nor do I think this with any particular vanity. But I really do wonder what exactly my significance is to people. I want to make a difference in people's lives, and I would love to be able to know exactly what difference I have made.

I think maybe that's one of the reasons why I write.

On the Pitfalls of Literary Study

Whenever someone asks me what I hope to do after college, or what I hope to have as a career, I find it a difficult question to answer. It's not that I have no idea. It's that I have so many ideas. I want to do everything! I want to write, I want to edit, I want to report, I want to work in a theater, I want to be a published playwright and poet and author and I just want to do! Everything!

One of the things that I really want to do is teach English literature. Granted, you might have guessed that from this blog, but I will pretend it's an enormous revelation, and we'll move on. But the endgame for me is probably a literature professor. I struggled with this, because it seems such an obvious answer for an English student to say that people assume it's all that an English degree is good for. And I've tried to work hard to fight against that perception.

And now here I am, really wanting to be an English professor. It's not the fault of the English degree. English study isn't useless. I have learned so much about how to formulate an argument, develop critical thinking skills, write like there's no tomorrow, and understand the human condition. There is a heck of a lot you can actually do with an English degree. And there is a lot that I plan to do with it.

It's just that nothing is quite as enjoyable to me as discussing the finer points of literature, or the hidden details in a movie, or the motivations of a character, or the recurring themes of a screenwriter's work. It's just my favorite thing to talk about, and if you get me talking about the cultural significance of a movie like Captain America: The First Avenger, you had better have a comfortable seat, because you will probably not be allowed to leave for a couple hours. And if I could share this passion with others as a part of my career? That would be the best thing in the world.

I actually spend a good deal of my daydreaming time devoted to making mental lists of possible curricula. I understand that this is probably the nerdiest thing I could do with my free time, save possibly for ranking all the mecha in Gundam in order of least to most available horsepower, but I honestly do not feel any shame about divulging this information. I often wonder what kind of classes I would or could teach if given the opportunity. Maybe I would teach a class on rhetorical usage in the films of Quentin Tarantino. Or perhaps a history of comic book adaptations from Superman through The Avengers and The Dark Knight Rises. Or a class on adaptations and reimaginings of various famous works, like the plays of Shakespeare or the adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Or the influence of anime on Western cinema and the influence of Western cinema on anime.

If it seems like film is coming up a lot on that list, that's because film really is my favorite medium of literature. Do not get me wrong, I adore novels, I love poetry, I live for plays and music. But when it comes right down to it, I get the most mileage out of films. It's so much more of a recent mode of literature, and it has its very roots in adapting previous works. It has developed its own language of tropes and conventions throughout the decades, and new things are innovated all the time, and they are adapted and perfected and overused so quickly. Few forms of literature can be as escapist as film, but few forms of literature can be so symbolically and intellectually dense as film. Really, if you wish to examine the zeitgeist of a particular time from the beginning of the 20^th Century on, it is so clearly apparent in its film.

I would not, however, begrudge the opportunity to teach something else. I love teaching. My style is a bit more informal than some, maybe, but I think that in a university setting, this would be a good thing. I probably couldn't teach the way I want to in a high school. But for me, getting in front of people and talking about something I am passionate about or leading a discussion is actually something I can do rather naturally. And it's something I highly enjoy doing. So maybe there will be a few steps in between. And maybe it's the obvious answer. But when it comes down to it, I really want to teach literature. I'm sorry friends. I have fallen victim to the legions of English students who want to teach. You're going to have to find someone else who can lead that fight.

If I Could Write a Jazz Etude

First published in The Catalyst Online Volume 6

If I could write a jazz etude
And play it Kind of Blue,
I’d spend A Night in Tunisia
With Plenty of Money and You.

Van Morrison would sing a song
As we would go Moon Dance,
And Django would play Nuages
When we arrive in France

We’d spend our April in Paris,
We'd Stomp at the Savoy,
We'd walk like Basie – Straight Ahead
In Autumn Leaves of joy.

We’d see the American Patrol
When we finally come home.
You’d show your Bossa Nova Soul,
But In a Mellow Tone

You’re the Girl from Ipanema,
My Funny Valentine.
I’m a Boogie Bugle Boy
who wants you to be mine.

I’d say that I am In the Mood
to Sing, Sing, Sing some more,
but I can’t write a jazz etude.
You’ve heard it all before.

If you want to make a blues song

The first thing you must do

is get up this mornin'.

And if you get up this mornin',

it will probably be like

You can't hardly get out of your bed.

That could just be because

sleepin' ain't been easy,

but it is best if, perhaps,

you feel as if you were dead.

Now once you drag your self

out of your bed,

you have to pack your things and go.

This is the most important thing,

to pack your things and go,

because without doing this,

You won't be able to walk on out the door.

Once you pack and go and walk out the door,

you have a number of options.

You can leave your home

and never come back no more

or you can go back home

to where the people all love you so

Or you can go down to the crossroads

and make the devil give back your soul

Or you can go out and find that

low-down, dirty-rotten, no-good,

not-worth-a-damn son-of-a-bitch man,

and you can finally tell him no.

A very short review of Henry IV part II.

This week, I finally finished slogging through William Shakespeare's King Henry IV part II.  Now a class made me once again a fan of The Bard, and I have enjoyed a lot of what I have read by him over the years.  I even enjoyed Henry IV part I, despite having a bit of a difficult time reading it.  So it came down to reading Henry IV part II, because I felt like I should continue the story.  Granted, I probably should have started with Richard II, but I didn't feel like entrenching myself that deep without feeling out the rest of the series.

For some background, it should be mentioned that William Shakespeare had a very popular series of plays involving the histories of some of the kings of England.  Those plays were Richard II, Henry IV part I, Henry IV part II, and Henry V.  Each of these plays has about fifteen billion characters, and approximately 67% of these characters are named Henry.  They're not exactly the easiest plays to read, even by Shakespearean standards.

Anyhow, for more of my thoughts on Henry IV part II, here is my review from Goodreads.


King Henry Iv Part Ii: Second Series by William Shakespeare
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Far be it from me to say that a Shakespeare play is "boring," but let's be honest, not a whole lot happens in this play.  Half of the play is nothing more than Jack Falstaff being sassy, and the rest of everything else is rather drawn out.  Essentially only two things happen in this play - The rebels surrender and Henry IV dies to make way for Henry V.  And yet both of those things happen in the last two acts.  I realize that Shakespeare wrote in a five act structure.  I realize that his tetralogy was very popular at the time.  I realize that William Shakespeare is far more acclaimed by critics and professors and popular audiences than I could ever conceive of being.  And don't get me wrong, I like Shakespeare.  It's just that Henry IV Part II is kind of like Shakespeare's Pirates of the Caribbean 3: A needless extension of a previous story that only exists to get more mileage out of popular characters where plot threads are dropped unceremoniously.


View all my reviews

Perhaps I am being harsh.  There are people who would probably stone me to death for daring to criticize William Shakespeare.  But luckily, those people are in a presently shrinking minority.  There's no reason why we can't hold the authors of our classic literary canon up to scrutiny.  And not just scrutiny in the sense of dangerous themes that the present, like how Joseph Conrad is extraordinarily racist or how every female character in Frankenstein ends up murdered.  I mean that the literary giants, yes, even William Shakespeare, from time to time wrote things that just aren't good.

And that's all right.  Shakespeare practically invented half of modern English usage.  He wrote more beloved plays than I will ever draft.  His reputation not going to hurt from the criticism of a puny literature blogger.  And even if more people stop holding him as flawless, he'll still be a great playwright.  That's how things are.

No Age Limit

"Aren't we a little old to be playing in the ball pit?"

"The fact that you phrased that as a question means you do not know the answer.  And if you don't know the answer, then to me that means the answer is no."

"Jackson Craine, I am serious."

"You're always serious, Steve.  That's the problem.  You need to learn to be less serious sometimes."

"Jackson, people are going to stare at us."

"I should hope so, it would be a shame for them to miss out on our combined attractiveness."

"Jack..."

"Steve, listen.  If people stare at us, that is their business.  And that's something that they are going to do no matter what.  This is a ball pit.  This is a safe space.  This is harmless, innocent fun."

"I don't understand."

"Look, I can't even hold your hand in public if you're afraid of people looking at us funny.  Because unfortunately, that's the way it's going to be.  So you have to get used to people looking at us.  And I can't think of a better way than this."

"So this is what, immersion therapy?"

"Think of it like a vaccine.  A vaccine exposes you to the problem - such as people staring - in a harmless form - such as having a blast while playing in the greatest invention of humankind, the plastic ball pit – and builds up your defenses so that the time the real issues begin, you'll be ready for it."

"I don't know about this, Jackson..."

"Of course you don't, you're always worried about what people will think so you never let yourself play in a ball pit."

"I thought this wasn't about the ball pit."

"Are you kidding me? Everything is about the ball pit!"

The World Was Made

They say that ages ago, before the world was made, before the people walked and ran and danced upon the earth, Maple stood by herself on the bare earth.  There was nothing by her, there was no one anywhere, and all she could do was just stand there, for there was no where to go and no one to know and no thing to see.

Tired of her isolation, she reached into her branches and broke off a bud and held it tightly in her hands until it formed hard and smooth.  She took a leaf and wrapped it around the top and she blew on it to dry it and make a cap.  She then took the acorn and pressed it gently into the ground not far away.  

Time went on, and soon Oak sprang from where the acorn had been placed.

Brother Oak, Maple had said, it is good that you have come to join me.  For I have been alone and now have a brother.

Sister Maple, said Oak who recognized Maple, I am glad to join you. But why are there no others?

Maple told him, There have never been any others. I have been alone. Now I have a brother and my brother has me. Is this not enough?

Oak pondered. No it is not enough. It is good, but it is not enough.

What then? Maple asked him.

There should be things on the ground, Oak told her. More like us. And some should also walk from place to place and some should dig into the earth.

Yes, said Maple. And there should be things in the sky as well. Creatures that soar and take rest in our branches and creatures that hover and dart between us.

Oak agreed with his sister, but he wondered how this could be.  The sun shines and all day, and nothing keeps the sky in place.

Maple worried about this and told him, Nothing holds the earth in place either.  If you could hold the earth in place, I could hold the sky in place.

So Oak took many of his leaves, tore them up and threw them into the air.  They scattered and came to rest on the ground, where they sprang up plants and grasses and flowers to hold the earth in place.

Satisfied that the ground would stay, Maple reached her arms to the sky and molded the air into giants.

Giants of air, she told the giants, you must hold the sky in place.  You must reprimand the sun when it is too hot and you must bring the oceans to the earth when it is too dry.

And the giants held the sky and the grasses held the ground.

And Maple threw her seeds to the winds where they grew wings of feathers to soar through the sky and wings of glass to dart between the trees.  And Oak dropped his seeds to the ground where they grew legs to walk from place to place and claws to dig into the earth.

And from these all creatures great and small and all plants of every color grew and were born.

The Poet's Diary

7:00 am: Woke up. Brushed teeth, shaved.

7:05 am: Fell back asleep.

8:14 am: Woke up. Showered, put on bathrobe. Went downstairs. Brewed coffee. Waited.

8:29 am: Poured coffee, sat down in chair on the porch.  Watched the birds.

8:34 am: Saw a cardinal. Bright red, bigger than some of the others.  It's a very lovely color.

8:35 am: Realized that 'cardinal' both describes the bird and the color. Wondered for a while which terminology came first.  Both seem equally likely.  The vivid hue would be the perfect way to describe the bird, despite the females not sharing it.  But the bird would also be the perfect way to describe the color, since nature makes it almost unique to the bird.  An interesting question indeed.

8:38 am: Prominent bishops in the Catholic church are also called Cardinals.  This is getting confusing.

8:40 am: A gold finch flew by.  I don't see many of those out here any more.

8:45 am: Cardinal can also refer to directions and numbers. Threw coffee mug at bird in frustration.

8:46 am: Went inside to get more coffee in a different mug.  Made note to buy another.

8:50 am: Got dressed in comfortable working clothes. Dark to hide ink stains.

9:00 am: Sat down to write first poem of the day.

9:30 am: The paper is blank. Can't stop thinking about cardinal.

9:33 am: Found cardinal in dictionary.  "of prime importance; chief; principle." That doesn't help at all.

10:03 am: Gave up on both poem and cardinal.  Needed inspiration.  Put on hat and jacket, walked to library.

10:44 am: Found book by Billy Collins. Good poet. Writes very naturally.

11:30 am: Read entire book.  Very short.  Very depressing.  Not used to Collins being so sad, not that you could often describe him as happy.  Still can't think of poem.

11:40 am: Went for walk to be inspired or to clear my head.  Honestly, either works.

11:45 am: Saw a cardinal. Now they're just mocking me.

12:15 pm: Stopped at a cafe for a scone and some black tea. The poet's natural habitat.

12:22 pm: Inspiration strikes.  Wrote poem.  Page and a half long.  Kept writing and writing.

12:24 pm: Put away notebook. Kept thinking about poem. Finished my scone.  Cinnamon Chip.  Delicious, but dry.

12:29 pm: Left cafe. Something nagging mind.

12:35 pm: Decided to have second look at poem.  Took out notebook.  It's bright red.  Contemplated.

12:37 pm: Decided it was not quite the right shade of red to be Cardinal.  Opened notebook.

12:40 pm: Read and reread poem.  Not so sure about it now.  Put notebook away.
12:44 pm: Headed home.
12:46 pm: Stopped at a pond on the way.  Admired its natural beauty. Thought about poem.

12:54 pm: Took out notebook again.

1:04 pm: I hate this poem.

1:05 pm: Tore out of notebook. Crumpled. Lit crumple on fire. Threw in pond. Headed home.

1:29 pm: Got home, sat down in front of paper.

1:30 pm: Previous poem was a masterpiece. What was I thinking.

1:34 pm: Tried to remember it and rewrite it.

1:46 pm: Wrote this instead.  

On Dreams

"I had a dream about you this morning," I told you as I peeled an orange carefully above the sink.

You raised your eyebrows at me over your tea.  "Did you? What sort of dream?"

"It was the sort of dream where you're half awake and half asleep and occasionally wake up during it only to fall asleep again and continue." I broke off a bit of the rind, sniffed it, and put it in my mouth to chew.  "You know that sort of dream, right?"

You smirked. "No, no no. I mean, what sort of dream nudge wink."

I spat the chewed rind into the sink and finished peeling the rest. "No, it was not that sort of dream." I put the peeled orange in a bowl and washed my hands.  "A one track mind, I tell you."

"Mm, that's a pity," you said, laughing softly as you took another long sip of tea.  "Well then, what was this dream about?"

"I don't recall," I said, and I moved around the counter to sit down next to you at the table.

"You don't recall?"

"No, I don't recall."

"Uh huh." You nodded abstractly.  "Well this has been an enlightening conversation and I am better for having it."

"Well, bits and pieces here and there." I pulled off a piece of the orange, ate it in one bite and wiped my hands on my pants.

"Go on," you urged.

"Well," I said after swallowing another piece.  "There's not much.  There might have been police.  Or a building, maybe a house? The color blue."

"You're right, that's not much."

"But I think I remember this bit with a photograph.  You were showing me this photograph, and I asked you who was in it.  And you said you were in it, but I couldn't see you, or really anyone in it.  Then you showed me another and said you were in it, but there were two people in it, and I couldn't figure out who either of them were, but I was too embarrassed to ask which was you." I put two more pieces of orange in my mouth and chewed them with more attention than I would have given them individually.

"I see," you said. "I wonder what it means."

"I dunno," I told you. "Been thinking about that.  Maybe it means that I really don't know a single thing about you."

You drained the rest of your tea, a sizable amount. "Ahh, everyone puts too much stock in dreams and their meanings. Don't think too much about that."

I looked at you, taking in your features.  "Well, you asked."

You looked at me, your eyes flashing into mine. "You love me, don't you?"

"W-well of course I do," I stammered.

You kissed my cheek. "Then that's all that matters, isn't it?" You stood up and put on your jacket. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah," I said, not sure what to feel.

"Hey, smile!" you told me.  "You could stop traffic with that smile, you know.  I'll see you tonight." And you walked out the door.

An Ode to a Computer

Hail to the computer!

Your screen, it shines night and day

A beacon of yellow and bluish light

That strains the eyes

And draws the mind

And tells us,

“I will never leave you,

And you should never leave me.”

O computer, of thee we sing!

We sing praises to your processor,

Dual-core and contained inside.

We raise toasts to your memory,

Only read and randomly accessed,

Without which we would be lost

And confused

And unable to play Starcraft

Or make spreadsheets.

We dance the foxtrot to your modem.

Computer, thy star shines bright!

Oh how we gaze upon your browser

That helps us explore the internet,

That chrome-colored opera of fire and foxes on safari

That leads us to greener pastures of

Electronic mail and electronic commerce

To tumble and stumble upon

Forums and Facebooks

Where the virtues of nettiquette are extolled

And then ignored.

Tell, O Muse, of the wonders of computer!

Without thee we could never do our work.

Without thee our work could finally get done.

Without thee how else would we watch Avengers

Without paying fourteen bucks in a smelly theater

I mean I'm not made of money and it made

Like a zillion dollars I mean come on

Who's gonna care if I just open up Pirate Bay

Or U Torrent for just a moment

Seriously dude how bad could it be.

Batman: Mask of the Phantasm review

Much to my chagrin, it will likely be a while before I'm able to see The Dark Knight Rises. Theater tickets cost a lot of money these days, and with 3D – it is in 3D, isn't it? It has to be – a trip to the flicks is now a significant chunk out of my non-existent paycheck. So in the meantime, I've decided to catch up on some Batman films that I haven't seen. Earlier this week, I watched Batman: Year One, which wasn't half bad. And tonight, I decided that if I can't watch the Batman film that everybody is talking about, I can at least watch the Batman film that nobody is talking about.

Allow me to clarify: for better or for worse, there at least is an opinion on most Batman films. Adam West's Batman: The Movie is talked about all the time for how ridiculous and idiotic it is, a fact that the film itself almost seems to understand. Tim Burton's Batman is held in fairly high regard among most people I have heard, and Batman Returns has a great deal of mixed reviews. Batman and Robin is reviled for both its cheesy campiness and the fact that, unlike its 1960s predecessor, it does not realize how stupid it is. Even Batman Forever, though nowhere near as good as Burton's films or as expressly bad as Schumacher's followup, is at least brought up now and then as That Time Jim Carrey Wore Spandex. And of course Christopher Nolan's trilogy is nothing short of a pop cultural phenomenon, even if sometimes people seem to forget that there was a first film in the series.

But in 1993, hot off the success of the Animated Series and the disappointing returns from Batman Returns, there was another feature film release that is hardly mentioned at all – Batman: Mask of the Phantasm. Part of the highly acclaimed Batman: the Animated Series, Mask of the Phantasm came out about a year after the launch of the series and fits in as part of the story. But the weird thing is that nobody ever seems to talk about it. I don't know if I have even ever met someone who has seen it, and basically every single one of my friends loves Batman. I had to find out about this on the internet, where the few people who mention it assure me it is quite good.

And the thing is, they're right. It is a really good Batman film. It both fits within the established mythos of the series (at the time. Later seasons would retcon some things.) and tells its own story well. Not only that, but unlike some film entries of existing series like Trigun: Badlands Rumble, the film has fairly high stakes. Sure, some of the most important characters are introduced in the movie and never seen outside of it, but their arcs are compelling and affect established characters in a way that makes sense.

For those who have not seen the film, there are two main stories that go on in it. The main story involves a mysterious hooded figure – the eponymous Phantasm, though as far as I noticed, nobody calls it this onscreen – who is systematically hunting down and killing mob bosses. These murders are blamed on Batman, which is not an unlikely leap, what what with the cape and the mask and the unmistakable influences from Gothic horror.

The second story involves a former love interest of Bruce Wayne's, a woman named Andrea Beaumont. And love interest is not a loose term here: we see her relationship with Bruce unfold quite seriously through a series of flashbacks. This story is actually very interesting, as it has an enormous effect on Bruce and raises answers to some pressing questions. Couldn't more good be accomplished by Bruce Wayne through donations to the police and charities? If so, why does he choose to become Batman instead? Where is the line drawn between vigilantism and vengeance and has Batman crossed it? It's an origin story that doesn't involve his technology or his childhood or his fear/fascination with bats, and it works because of it.

Other than these, the rest can be summed up by saying it's a part of the animated series. It succeeds best in its unique mesh of time periods and art styles. It can be somewhat camp and cartoony but still dark and interesting. The cast is fantastic, with some great (though short) parts with Wayne's butler Alfred and of course Mark Hamill's endlessly entertaining performance as The Joker. Furthermore, the scenes with the Phantasm evoke a wonderful classic monster movie feel, and significant development is given to the character and motivations of Bruce Wayne. Sure, it suffers some from its relatively short running time, and the climax perhaps leaves a bit to be desired and a lot unanswered. But in spite of these flaws, Batman: Mask of the Phantasm still is a great film, and easily belongs in the Top Five film adaptations of the Batman franchise ever made.

Review of Batman: Year One

I just finished watching the straight-to-DVD animated adaptation of Frank Miller's Batman: Year One. It was pretty good. Granted, was certainly not the kind of film that could get a theatrical release. The pacing wasn't fantastic and the animation wasn't exactly studio quality. Additionally, at 64 minutes long, it isn't even as long as a Pokemon movie. But as a home release animated film, it worked quite well. It was certainly more interesting than some other comic book home releases like The Invincible Iron Man, which was surprisingly boring. And as far as Batman films go, it also was more coherent and engaging than Batman: Gotham Knight, the DVD release interquel between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight.

The film, for the uninitiated, follows both Bruce Wayne and Jim Gordon as they come to Gotham City in order to fight crime: Gordon as an honest lieutenant in a precinct full of dirty cops, and Wayne as a vigilante who soon becomes the legendary Batman. Interestingly, the film spends a great deal of time more on Lt. Gordon, as he deals with corrupt cops, his superiors, troubles with his marriage, and a so-called giant bat that seems to be attacking people.

Honestly, I suspect that the film would have been done itself a favor if it had stuck with this idea and run with it. It told a very interesting story about Jim Gordon, and a Batman story completely from his view would be fantastic. Additionally, by dropping the few, unsatisfactory parts based around Wayne – as well as the late-coming and quickly forgotten arc about Catwoman – the film could have had more time to develop a few of its plot threads that seemed rushed.

That was one of the biggest problems with the film: the pacing. While the first half had a great deal of nicely done buildup, by the end it seemed like plot threads were rushed to completion – like the aftermath of Gordon's infidelity – or dropped altogether – like the origin of Catwoman. I understand that this is a direct adaptation of an existing story, but many of these parts feel awkwardly forced in.  Other problems revolved around the voice acting  In many cases, it was fine, but some acting, notably Bruce Wayne himself, fell rather flat.

The animation itself was a bit of a mixed bag, though perhaps not quite as literally mixed as Gotham Knight, which was a series of shorts produces by different directors and studios, creating the effect of switching halfway through an episode of Samurai Champloo to watch a little Death Note. Year One seems to take some of its cues from the current trend of Motion Comics, adapting a comic book or graphic novel by putting limited animation into the existing panels. However, it becomes clear that this is mostly to save money for the fight scenes. The fight scenes are stunningly animated, which can provide a bit of a jarring contrast to much of the rest of the film, which thankfully found a bit of a middle ground between the limited style of some scenes and the glossy production of others.

But all things considered, this was a fairly enjoyable film. The story was mostly solid, the animation had some great scenes, and the voice acting was fantastic with only a few exceptions. Fans of Batman Begins or Batman: The Animated Series would probably enjoy this – it certainly has a similar ring to it – and it could even change the minds of those who have found previous DVD releases to be somewhat lacking. It definitely wouldn't win over anyone who doesn't like Batman, of course. But let's be real here: those people are quite beyond help already.

Titles are the Hardest Part

People have known for a while how much writing is something I love, something I feel passionate about. But in truth, I haven't always had the drive to do it. It's difficult sometimes. Sometimes I just didn't feel like it. But I think the error in my thought process was this whole waiting for inspiration to strike. Because sometimes inspiration won't strike, and you just have to go and find it for yourself.

True, I'm still not finished with all of the projects I've been meaning to work on. I still am not much further than I was months ago on my second draft of Life, Love and the Fourth Wall, though admittedly I have changed the title. Clearly, calling it Life and Love Along the Fourth Wall counts as significant progress, wouldn't you agree? I'm still not certain that will be the final title though. Perhaps Life Along The Fourth Wall? Maybe something even more different.

A while back, I recalled hearing a commercial for National Public Radio that referred to NPR as being like “A little bit of tofu and a little chocolate cake.” I immediately thought that would make a great title for a play. I don't know why I thought that. I wasn't nearly as entrenched in reading and writing plays as I am now, and I had only just begun to really think about theatre seriously. But that has still stuck with me for all these years.  

Looking at it in print, it looks a bit long, but long play titles are nothing new. For instance: The Future is in Eggs or It Takes All Kinds To Make The World, or perhaps A Couple of White Chicks Sitting Around Talking, or the brilliant and ridiculous Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind. Those are definitely lengthy titles, and that's one of the things that I always liked about theatre. This way of not taking itself so seriously that it can't have ridiculous titles that would make a Fall Out Boy album shiver with envy.

So that will be something to think about. As will actually writing scene 2 for my play. And then revising the rest of it. And then probably transcribing the whole thing into a scriptwriting program for my third draft. And then seeing if anyone wants to produce it. Okay, so the journey is far from over. But writing each day, this is part of it. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, as any Successory will be happy to tell you, and writing is no different. Except for being measured in miles or actually involving walking.

Sins and Stages

On Monday, I woke up without you. I showered, running the water a little bit because I remembered you didn’t like to go in unless it had warmed up enough. I made breakfast and set two places. I read all day, looking up every time I thought I heard someone pass the door. Dinner was for two, romantic, candle-lit, rigatoni in meat sauce with sauteed pea pods and an unopened bottle of 2005 Merlot. I went to bed and fell asleep waiting for you. I dreamed myself in your arms with nothing between us.

On Tuesday, I couldn’t stand the thought of you. I picked up all the pictures I had of us, stuffed them into a mason jar and lit the crumpled mess on fire. As it burned, I just kept thinking how much better off I was, how I never needed you. I told myself that you held me back and now that you were gone I could finally prove how great I was and how everybody loved me and you just prevented me from shining and them from getting closer to me. When the flames settled down, I picked up the jar of ashes and melted plastic and threw it at the television. I sat down and cried until I passed out.

On Wednesday, I tried to think of how to change things. How it could have been different. I wished I had your grace and your charm. I resented that you had been so good at everything and so good to me while I was awful and spiteful to you. I wondered if I might have been half the person you were, might I have been able to keep this from happening. And then I looked through all the things you left behind. I watched your movies, hoping something could take my mind off of this. I put your Nintendo up for sale online.

On Thursday, I didn’t get up at all. I hardly moved all day, not leaving the bed, looking up at the ceiling, wishing for the cold or the numbness of death. I didn’t care that I stained the pillows as I drank the rest of the Merlot by myself. I didn’t check to see if anyone bid because I didn’t really care if they had. I drifted in and out of sleep. The awful dreams weren’t enough to make me get up.

On Friday, I waited an acceptance that will never come.

My Favorite Book

I've had a number of favorite books over the course of my life. When I was very young, it was of course The Tawny, Scrawny Lion, a book I do not entirely recall, but whose naming fits with my brother's favorite book around the same age, The Saggy, Baggy Elephant. Growing up, I enjoyed books by Roald Dahl, especially The BFG, which hit that mixture of childhood whimsy and people dying brutally that really spoke to me as a child. This might have contributed to my discovery of Michael Crichton, whose books I read with great fervor through what most people would consider my middle school and early high school years. Not long after, I discovered the Ender Saga by Orson Scott Card, which despite controversy and declining quality surrounding Card's more recent work, gave me Ender's Game and Speaker for the Dead as two of my favorite books of all time.

Throughout the years since, I discovered other books that really stuck with me. Books like Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg and The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien really resonated with me in high school, exposing me not only to fascinating narrative methods, but also to themes that I might have otherwise never accepted. In college, I have discovered an incredible love for poetry through the works of Langston Hughes and Billy Collins especially, both of whose unique styles I've sought to emulate and learn from. Additionally, books like The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya by Nagaru Tanigawa, Brooklyn, Burning by Steve Brezenoff, and Looking for Alaska by John Green have really rekindled my love for young adult literature.

But throughout all of this, I often forget about what has probably been my favorite book through it all, much like how I often forget that The Blues Brothers really is my favorite movie of all time. When I was around the age of Junior High – I don't recall exactly when – my trumpet instructor suggested I read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. He said he thought it would fit with my sense of humor nicely, which was dry, sarcastic and silly as a sort of byproduct of growing up watching a lot of British films that often involved James Bond or the Monty Python troupe.

So I picked it up from a library, and I loved every line of it. I cannot remember finding anything so funny as the first time I read The Hitchhiker's Guide. It really remains an incredible book, a near-perfect blend of hard science fiction elements and mind-bending, absurd humor. Douglas Adams was the master of describing things in terms that are nearly impossible to visualize. A spaceship shaped like an Italian Bistro that can only be seen out of the corner of ones eye. A slender four that prances in the background of one scene. A cocktail that feels like getting bashed over the head with a slice of lemon wrapped around a gold brick. It's a masterpiece of both classic sci-fi writing and humorous literature at the same time.

The “Hitchhiker's Trilogy” of course contains a total of five books and a short story by Douglas Adams, as well as another novel named And Another Thing by Eoin Colfer. I haven't read this final one yet, apprehension prevents this for the moment. But I plan to after I reread the whole series, which I have just started again this week. Despite my uncertainty, I actually am looking forward to reading it. It would be nice to have an ending to the series that isn't the depressingly bleak Mostly Harmless.

But if you have not read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, I cannot think of any excuse for not at least attempting. It's a difficult book, one that can hurt the brain at times, but it is also one of the funniest things ever written, and the series explores a number of interesting themes. It probably is my favorite book of all time, but this is, of course, always up for debate.

A Look at My Summer

This summer is the first time I've set a schedule for myself in regards to reading and writing. It's as true for music and sports as it is for writing that the only way to improve at something is to practice every day. Many of the best and most prolific writers, from writers that I love like Terry Pratchett to writers that I hate like Ernest Hemingway, got to their level of skill by writing every single day. Granted, not every great author wrote every day, but most of the ones that offer advice on how to become a better writer list that as the first step.

I always knew I had to do it, but I just never did. Unaccustomed as I have been to scheduling my own free time, I've generally written just whenever I felt like it, which is both a good way to ensure that nothing gets written and a great way to not get any better. So this summer, at the advice of my father and my brother (along with some words from Neil Gaiman bouncing around in my head), I decided to set up a regimen of sorts that both offers flexibility yet ensures that I will read and write every day.

Each morning, I read for at least one hour by 11:00 am. If I start too late to allow for an hour by 11:00, then I read for two hours. After I read, I write at least 400 words before using the computer for anything else.  I should state that this is a great way of ensuring that I will write, seeing as most of my favorite time wasters require computer use. Additionally, I update this blog Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I did miss this Friday, but I figure a one-day delay is not the end of the world. I also seek to send things out for publication weekly. This one is a bit harder to manage, seeing as I still get rather intimidated by the process. But it is something I can and will do, in spite of the anxiety.

Of further note is that July is Flash Fiction Month. A friend of mine told me about this. Similar to National Novel Writing Month, where participants attempt to write a fifty-thousand word novel during the month of November, Flash Fiction Month participants write a piece of Flash Fiction every day for the month of July. Flash Fiction, for those who don't know, is typically defined as a short short story that is under one thousand words. I've actually managed pretty well! It's an especially great way for me to practice writing Flash Fiction and prose fiction in general, which I have found difficult in the past. I won't write a masterpiece every day, but every bit of practice helps.

Writing is an acquired skill. I distinctly remember teaching myself to write eight years ago, and I will continue to teach myself to write for as long as I live. And the only way to really do this is to practice.

Every Day's the Fourth of July

Sometimes I wonder what people think of me as they pass by. I wonder what that little child with his ice cream pop thinks I am doing. I wonder what thoughts I cause in the people who speed swiftly down the street on bicycles, coupes, inline skates, what images I conjure in the minds of poets who might be strolling down the street, looking for a muse, a simple idea or picture or comment that might place one word firmly behind the next, and then more words following in a line or a stanza or a battalion of rhetorical soldiers.

Perhaps they look at me and see me at face value, just a frail old man sitting on a bench, jotting in a notebook while feeding pigeons on the sidewalk that leads into the entrance of the park. Perhaps they try to suppose my life story, my circumstances, maybe thinking my wife could have died years ago from terminal brain cancer, my children moved away to the corners of the world, the notebook filled with all the words I would have said to my wife, the pigeons filled with all the bread I would have given to my children.

I look at the pigeons, I look at the people, and I can't help but smile a bit. And I look down into my notebook, and my smile turns to a grin as I write the words I've been waiting my whole life to put down:

“Phase One Complete.”

“Delta Strike is Go.”