Dead End Follies

James Warner - All Her Father's Guns (2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 14:54:00 +0000

Country: USA/England

Genre: Literary/Comedy

Pages: 190

Buy It Here

My Christian therapist in Redwood City once asked me if I really did have concealed assets Tabytha didn't know about When I asked him if he was on Tabytha's payroll too, he told me I was paranoid. I told him he was fired. That man lasted three sessions - longer than the so-called "lifestyle coach" in San Mateo who told me I was having a "mid-life crisis"

A philosopher I don't remember the identity of one said that it wasn't doubt, but certainty that killed. Maybe it was Voltaire. Or was it Nietzsche? Whatever, it's not that important. Ironically enough, it's a quote I have often heard from the intellectual types, referring to religious fanaticism, conflicts in the Middle East and anything that has to do with Bush's administration. Truth is, if you look at the situation this way, you're leaving other kinds of dogmas out of the situation and you might just be playing in one yourself. James Warner doesn't though. In ALL HER FATHER'S GUNS, he takes two radically opposite views of America, academia and business and looks for the traits that make them what they are. Life is chaos and there's no explanation that covers every angle of it. That, James Warner understands and shares with us in his delicious comedy.

At the center of ALL HER FATHER'S GUNS is Cal Lyte. The dad in question. He's really more than a dad, per se, He's a stereotypical father figure. A strong man, a venture-capitalist with no fear and an ex-wife who wants him to pay more alimony. Tabytha, his ex and mother of his daughter Lyllyan is running for congress and wants Cal to fund her campaign. Her lawsuit implies that he would have been hiding income from her in order to pay her a lower amount. Angry and tired of the situation, he turns to his daughter's boyfriend Reid, a mild-mannered academic, in order to be his insider in his struggle to solve his family problems. They are worlds apart in terms of upbringing and yet they are a lot more closer to each other than they think.

The idea behind Warner's novel is a little abstract. There are two narrators, Reid and Cal and a definite plot (Cal's domestic struggle with Tabytha, gradually blowing out of proportions), ALL HER FATHER'S GUNS is really about two lives clashing together and creating a chain of events more than a a straightforward plot. It makes the novel difficult to follow at times, because it reads like a series of connected stories rather than a seamless novel. Whenever the narration jumps from Reid to Cal (and vice-versa) you have to adjust to a very different narrator who's talking at the first person. While Cal's segments are carrying most of the story, Reid's parts sometimes read like a humorous sketch about academic life. It's pretty funny if you have been a part of this life like I did (the meta-narratives joke had me laughing out loud, very rare when I read a book), but the humor will be lost on some. He's funny and he has some perspective on the situation, but he's no Nick Carraway (I know, it's unfair to compare the two, but it's just to give you a frame of reference.)

"Reid!" yelled Boris Dartwood from the back room. He was sitting on the couch with his new boyfriend, an architect called Graham. "Cal invited me to Prague Springs to shoot bison some weekend. You have to go there. Guys in jeans and tan cowhide boots. It's like an angry white guy reservation. It's the caves of Nibelungen where smiths fasion terrible weapons. And those Kevlar jackets are to die for."

ALL HER FATHER'S GUNS is a seducing idea with its comedic approach, but it's not the easiest nut to crack. It's two character studies, but you have to keep in mind that those characters carry two opposite visions of the world and the beauty resides in the clash. Overall, it's a very ambitious first effort from James Warner. I can appreciate the thinking behind ALL HER FATHER'S GUNS, but as a reader I thought it lacked focus a little bit. Maybe it would have benefited from fifty more pages or from a single narrator. In the greater scheme of things, it's a novel that introduces an intriguing new talent in James Warner and a wealth of possibilities.

Read it for Cal Lyte's aggressive, borderline slapstick view of America or for the quirky academia jokes. ALL HER FATHER'S GUNS isn't greater than the sum of its parts, but the parts themselves are worth looking into.

THREE STARS

Literary Blog Hop - Art Criticism and the Self

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 13:19:00 +0000

What's the hop?

It's a serious, monthly discussion in between bloggers, about literature and it's hosted by the terrific, fearless girls behind the terrific, fearless and bold Blue Bookcase blog. They will talk about Melville and Louise Erdrich, but not about Jodi Picoult.

Can I participate?

Yes, go over to their place and register. It's free and it's a lot of fun. You will meet other people and make friends. It's not necessary to participate every month, but the more you do, the cooler you are to me.

This month's prompt...

In the epilogue for FARGO ROCK CITY, Chuck Klosterman writes:

"It's always been my theory that criticism is really just veiled autobiography; whenever someone writes about a piece of art, they're really just writing about themselves."

Do you agree?

My answer...

Criminally underrated writer Kyle Minor was asked in interview this week if writers could be objective readers. This answer is basically the short answer to this question:

It's not possible for anyone to be an objective reader. Reading is an exercise in subjectivity. Writing, too, and also thinking.

That's the jist of it. I can appreciate the beauty in Minor's conciseness, but the long answer is a little more complex than that. Or should I say nuanced. I don't believe in objective criticism of literature (or any form of art whatsoever). Usually, it's just borrowing somebody else's subjective discourse on an issue and applying it to another frame of reference. It's deluding yourself you're being objective as in fact you just agree with somebody about something.

There has to be a certain amount of subjectivity to criticism for the sake of intellectual honesty. If you want your readers to trust your opinion, you have to make it clear that it's an opinion and most important, they have to know who you are so they can identify to your material. "You don't need to know me because I'm a scholar" doesn't cut it anymore. Appreciating art is an exercise in subjectivity, like Minor said. An opinion.

I couldn't have appreciated Chuck Klosterman's insight on hair metal, if I didn't know who he was. If I didn't know that like me, he was an intellectual kid who grew up in a remote area, where it's not a winning plan to be an intellectual kid. Fuck, I'm going to listen to him just because of that. He uses the vernacular of young pop culture junkies, so I understand his process of thoughts, which is usually a few steps ahead of mine. It establishes a frame of reference we both understand and therefore I understood the deconstruction discourse in his work better than anywhere else.

But here's the issue. You can't criticize from too close. You can't talk about yourself in a way that has nothing to do with the subject. I read an alarming number of book reviews on a weekly basis that have a "the characters really got to me", "I could feel her inner turmoil" and "I really liked it" in the body of their argumentation. Right there, you're saying nothing about the book and everything about yourself. You're too close. To borrow from my boxing analogy again (that Christina gracefully quoted for her own answer), you can't stand too far because your points aren't going to hit and you can't stand too close because your points will be muffled my lack of perspective. You have to find the distance that works for you. That gives you a maximum impact on your readers.

Here's an example.

The best review I've read on the web during the last two weeks is Sabrina Ogden's review of John Rector's latest novel ALREADY GONE. It's even a lot better than mine! What makes it so great is that Sabrina introduces her review by telling us the story of her scumbag dope-peddling boyfriends in college. ALREADY GONE being a novel about not knowing somebody as well as you've thought, this establishes from the get go that she got the point. She sets the tone of the novel without spoiling the story and with an entertaining story on top of that.

So in a nutshell, I agree with Klosterman, but not everybody has the eloquence of tying up the loose ends of their lives with an intellectual point the way he does. I would go as fas as to say subjectivity is imperative (really, just read this blog and it's obvious), but its amount should vary from critic to critic, in regards to their level of comfort with the idea. Critics are not journalists. They deal with facts, we deal with art production.

Tom Piccirilli - Every Shallow Cut (2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 15:21:00 +0000

Country: USA

Genre: Noir

Pages: 162

I'd lost eighty pounds of flab in the years since Sweetie had entered my life. I vomited more than I ate. A decade at a desk putting my guts on paper had made me obese, and the dissolution of my marriage and stress over a failed career had gnawed at me like cancer.

There are things one likes so much, he has to watch what he says from fear of sounding like a babbling idiot. EVERY SHALLOW CUT, by Tom Piccirilli tied my innards in one tight, rock solid knot for the short time that it lasted. It's a noir novella*, it's not even two hundred pages long and it has no gangsters whatsoever among the character cast. No underworld to speak of. How is that noir, one would ask? A true master can write a genre story with the bare minimum. That's what Piccirilli has achieved with EVERY SHALLOW CUT. It's the most minimalistic, yet one of the rawest and most gut-wrenching examples of noir. It's one of those books you end up lending to friends all the time, whenever one asks: "Well, what IS noir?" EVERY SHALLOW CUT is noir in its darkest manifestation.

A nameless writer, a failing career and a dying wedding is a lot of weight and despair for just one pair of shoulders. He pawns his last family memories and buys a handgun, bullets and a speedloader with the money. With nothing left to live for, but his English bulldog Churchill, he leaves Denver for one last road trip to his estranged brother's house in New York. There's no home waiting for him there, but the narrator feels the need to revisit his past and face his failures once again now that he feels the end is near. He confronts his failures at love, innocent childhood love as well as domestic life partnership, his failures at finding success and status and ultimately, his failure of feeling at home anywhere. Along the way, he's writing one last novel in longhand, on legal pads, in the back of his car.

There are stories who attack you and challenge the moral core of your being. EVERY SHALLOW CUT does it in a very pernicious way. It preys on your fears of failure and nothingness. You can't turn your back on its protagonist because you're the only thing he has left, the reader of his tormented masterpiece and you can't really bond with him either as he's stuck in a place you don't want to be. This is what contemporary noir does best. The inner slip of an individual, towards depression yes but also towards violence and crime. I'm not interested in career criminals as much as desperate people, on the verge on insanity. Piccirilli understands the intimate nature of such stories and it's easy to trace parallels in between his protagonist and him. Evidently enough, both are New York natives that worked in Colorado, but I suspect they share a lot more than a geographic history.

I walked out passed his girl and said goodbye. She wasn't doing anything. She wasn't reading or typing or texting or checking voice mail. She was just sitting there, lost inside herself. She didn't look up. I almost kissed her.

Tom Piccirilli's minimalistic masterpiece is a testament to how you don't need much to make noir work. An increasingly frightened and confused protagonist, an oppressive environment (or at least an environment that feels oppressive to him) and a willingness to go deeper and deeper at the heart of the problem. The abandonment of self-preservation mechanisms. EVERY SHALLOW CUT is as beautiful as it is sad and depressing. Piccirilli doesn't hide it, he announces it before even the story start. There's this haunting foreword at the beginning that sets tone for the novella. It will resonate inside you like somebody smacked you upside the head with a baseball bat. I will read EVERY SHALLOW CUT again, many, many times for it's a work that has staying power.

FIVE STARS

* Or a "noirella" as Piccirilli himself qualified it.

Dead End Follies Book Club - FARGO ROCK CITY

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 14:00:00 +0000

I don't care what you think about Chuck Klosterman. If you don't know who he is, you should disregard whatever you heard and pick up one of his books. FARGO ROCK CITY: A HEAVY METAL ODYSSEY IN RURAL NÖRTH DAKÖTA is by any means the place to start. Klosterman is applying those faceless principle you learn in school if you're over-educated, like deconstruction, and applies it to tangible things, to elements of pop culture. One could argue that pop culture should be the last thing you worry about, that there are wars to end, world hunger to solve and cancer to cure. But I beg to differ. Pop culture is the world you live in. It's the finished product of everything. Capitalism, xenophobia, racial struggle, shift of values, etc. It's important to acknowledge and understand the monster.

That's what Chuck Klosterman does. His first book FARGO ROCK CITY is also one of his most accessible, because it's written as a heavy metal memoir. Klosterman usually tackles a wide array of issues in different essays, but this book explores only one thing. The evolution of heavy metal culture.

THREE REASONS TO READ: FARGO ROCK CITY

1) It's a book about metal, written by a fan. There's no musicology, gossip or anything that drags the discourse away from the music, the bands and their impact. FARGO ROCK CITY captures the nerdy side of heavy metal fandom in all its different angles. From blind admiration to fans rivalries.

2) It's incredibly funny. People hating on Klosterman take him extremely seriously. I heard him in interview once saying he tried to place one joke per paragraph. It's a serious analysis of heavy metal culture, but it's done with a sense of humor. And a good one, not an obscure sense of irony.

3) This is the most time anyone has tried to understand Axl Rose's Hindenburg-of-an-ego he had in the early nineties. There is a pattern to Guns N' Roses' fall from grace and this is well traced here.

THREE TOPICS ABOUT: FARGO ROCK CITY

1) Name your three favorite artists. Can you identify what they talk about in their songs? Are there moments in your life that remind you of these songs?

2) Would you agree that music is a cultural product? That different places and different people will produce different kinds of music? If yes, how so? Also, how would you explain a young man's attraction to heavy metal in rural North Dakota or a kid's attraction for American hip-hop in Poland?

3) What do you think of Klosterman's use of the academic discourse and social sciences? Is he closing the gap in between Academia and the working world or does his use of first person and humor weakens his point?

Buy FARGO ROCK CITY: A HEAVY METAL ODYSSEY IN RURAL NÖRTH DAKÖTA here

Ed Lynskey - Ask The Dice (2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 14:14:00 +0000

Country: USA

Genre: Crime

Pages: 390 kb

BUY IT HERE

The infamous killers fired bullets of various calibers to fell their prey. In ascending order, Malvo shot a .223, Chapman a .38, Cunanan a .40, Billy the Kid a .41, Son of Sam a .45, Guiteau a .442 and The Zodiac Killer a monster .45. My point was each sized of caliber, small to large, killed mortals just as dead. I didn't equate any of those assassins to me, but I studied their MOs, usually on what errors not to repeat since most died young or went in stir. Zodiac, the exception, must've retired to a condo village in Boca Raton to paint his watercolors of sad clowns and fortunetellers.

Imagine. Your dad's drinking buddy of thirty years, sitting with you in your living room and schooling you on the art of murder like he could have schooled you on any matter of home improvement. Why learn how to install a shelf when you can kill people? I didn't expect much of out Ed Lynskey's ASK THE DICE. I picked it up, unsure of what to think about it and was agreeably surprised. Not only Lynskey can write, but he has a unique spin on the craft. ASK THE DICE is an off-beat staccato of toxic feelings and business partnerships gone wrong. If you walk the mean street of the underworld, how tough you are decides if you'll survive. But if you're strong enough to live the life, leaving the life is another ball game.

Tommy Mack Zane is a middle aged, mild mannered guy. He has to go to his prostate exam once a year, feeling his life slipping away from him every time he does. Tommy's been a hitman for the last twenty-something year and is looking for a way to walk in the sunset and live what he has left of a life peacefully. But it's hard to let an efficient employee go. Gwen, the niece of Tommy's boss Mr. Ogg, turns up dead with .22 slugs in her skull, just like Tommy's MO. As every head around Tommy turns up to him, he starts his own investigation and the list of suspects is rather short. On top, the name of Mr. Ogg himself. That eventuality will drive Tommy revisit his long-time relationship to Mr. Ogg in a quest to know why has Gwen died and why is he being framed for it.

While I can't say the plot sparkles with originality (double-crossing a hitman might be original, but double-crossing stories and hitmen stories aren't), Ed Lynskey makes is work with an approach as conventional as a southpaw boxer with a mild case of tourettes syndrome. Tommy Mack Zane is a protagonist so endearing, because he's a stone cold killer that acts like all the Gerald Fergusons and the Wayne Turners you know. He discusses baseball, writes poetry, does everything mild mannered suburban husbands do. But he does more. His job transformed him in a chameleon. That's where Lynskey truly shines. He is a chameleon himself and a master of vernacular. Here's an example, asTommy has to face an armed attacker fluent in street talk.

"Why? Are you a Sam Spade?"

"Me? Shit, I couldn't locate my ass with both hands and GPS."

"You pick a funny hour to get nosy."

"Uh-huh. Do you mind dropping your aim?"

Those idiosyncratic pieces of dialog are reminiscent of James Lee Burke's iconic character, troublemaker and policeman, Dave Robicheaux. The comparison between both writers isn't far fetched, but Lynskey is more laconic and economical. Hardboiled, in other words. ASK THE DICE is a short novel, but it's best read in a few long sittings. I took a week to read fifteen percent of it and literally twenty-four hours to read the rest. Once I sat down with it, ASK THE DICE flowed and ended before I knew it was over. While I can't say it was exactly scorching, it was an odd and pleasant surprise to read such a tender comment on growing old as well as a hardboiled novel. I've been told by readers of Lynskey that his best novel was LAKE CHARLES, so expect to see it reviewed here sometime in 2012. ASK THE DICE did enough for me. If I had a .5 rating measure, this would warrant one.

THREE STARS

Tom Waits - Rain Dogs/Way Down in the Hole

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 14:29:00 +0000

This week, I asked the all-seing Twitters what were the songs I had to listen to, in order to "get" Tom Waits, an artist that had eluded my sensibility for the longest time. A voice from the sky didn't answer me, but Ray Banks and Kent Gowran did. That's even better. Among the songs they named, RAIN DOGS stuck to me the most. I decided to thrown in WAY DOWN IN THE HOLE with it, because of THE WIRE. It was amazing and it was an even more amazing theme song. I prefer the version by The Blind Boys of Alabama. But you know, music appreciation is subjective! Enjoy the peculiar madness of Tom Waits.

Tom Waits - RAIN DOGS

Inside a broken clock
Splashing the wine
With all the Rain Dogs
Taxi, we'd rather walk.
Huddle a doorway with the Rain Dogs
For i am a Rain Dog, too.

Oh, how we danced and we swallowed the night
For it was all ripe for dreamin
Oh, how we danced away
All of the lights
We've always been out of our minds.

The Rum pours strong and thin
Beat out the dustman
With the Rain Dogs
Aboard a shipwreck train
Give my umbrella to the Rain Dogs
For I am a Rain Dog, too.

Oh, how we danced with the
Rose of Tralee
Her long hair black as a raven
Oh, how we danced and you
Whispered to me
You'll never be going back home,
You'll never be going back home.

Tom Waits - WAY DOWN IN THE HOLE

When you walk through the garden
you gotta watch your back
well I beg your pardon
walk the straight and narrow track
if you walk with Jesus
he's gonna save your soul
you gotta keep the devil
way down in the hole
he's got the fire and the fury
at his command
well you don't have to worry
if you hold on to Jesus hand
we'll all be safe from Satan
when the thunder rolls
just gotta help me keep the devil
way down in the hole
All the angels sing about Jesus' mighty sword
and they'll shield you with their wings
and keep you close to the lord
don't pay heed to temptation
for his hands are so cold
you gotta help me keep the devil
way down in the hole

Lawrence Block - The Sins of the Fathers (1976)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 13:48:00 +0000

Country: USA

Genre: Hardboiled

Pages: 276

Why would anyone want to kill anybody? The act of murder is performed four or five times a day in New York. One hot week last summer the count ran to fifty-three. People kill their friends, their relatives, their lovers. A man on Long Island demonstrated karate to his old children by chopping his two-year old daughter to death. Why did people do these things?

Cain said he wasn't Abel's keeper. Are those the only choices, keeper or killer?

Here's how it went, for real. I sat down to read the first chapter of THE SINS OF THE FATHERS. I closed the book because I had business to do downtown and while I was there, I bought TIME TO MURDER AND CREATE and IN THE MIDST OF DEATH, respectively number two and three in the Matthew Scudder series. I knew that if I liked the first novel of the series that bad, this was for me. It's hard to put a brilliant P.I novel out there after so many great hardboiled writers did. It's even harder to create a brilliant P.I, period. Really, who wants to live up to Philip Marlowe? Lawrence Block took the challenge and beat it with ease. While clearly being influenced by the classic P.I character, Scudder had this taint, this invisible aura of a damaged soul around him. I finished THE SINS OF THE FATHER with a wide grin, because there is still sixteen more Scudder novels to go.

Matthew Scudder used to be a cop. He walked away from the force from his own volition after doing something he couldn't live with. Since then he's operating privately without a license, but his friends in the NYPD keep sending him clients. Desperate people they don't really want to deal with. Cale Hanniford is one of those people. His estranged daughter Wendy has been murdered in brutal fashion, seemingly by Richard Vanderpoel, her roommate. The case is closed since Vanderpoel has been arrested and hung himself in his jail cell. Cale Hanniford doesn't really debate the investigation. He just wants some closure. He wants to know how he ended up with a murdered daughter. Scudder accepts the case and sets foot in the strange world of Wendy Hanniford's ghost, waking up his own at the same time.

When I say THE SINS OF THE FATHERS is influenced by the classic P.I novel, I mean the form is identical to the one you will find in Chandler and Hammett's novels. It's structured rather rigidly around one case and a series of interrogation. In that regards, Scudder reminded me of a darkened Columbo*. There is very little space for character development outside the story structure, but Lawrence Block being a brilliant writer, he ties up the loose ends and makes Scudder's moment of doubts count in the greater scheme of things. You get to know Scudder a little less than the first chapter makes you anticipate, but you get to know him just enough to want to read the second book. Just to know where he goes from there. I like it when a writers doesn't take cheap shortcuts to build a relationship in between his star protagonist and his audience.

"Why was she living with Vanderpoel?"

"He had a twelve inch tongue."

"Seriously. Was he pimping for her?"

"Probably."

"You didn't have a sheet on either of them, though."

"No. No arrest. They didn't exist officially for us until he decided to cut her up."

THE SINS OF THE FATHERS (and probably Matthew Scudder in general, I just can't say it YET) is a piece of history in hardboiled literature. My personal favorite P.I, Dennis Lehane's Patrick Kenzie probably wouldn't have existed, at least not in the same form, if it wasn't for Matt Scudder. This was the first of hopefully many, many reviews of his novels. The way I see it, things can only get better from here. First novels often feel rigid and insecure. Lawrence Block managed to keep it smart and fascinating despite those two issues (that are minor, but still present). But you know, while I didn't fall in love with the plot (it was a little predictable), I fell for Scudder, his strenghts and his doubts, the way he handle himself in the tough streets. The best is still to come, I'm sure. Expect many reviews of Lawrence Block novels in 2012.

FOUR STARS

* Which is awesome, admit it. You all watched every Columbo movies twenty times on television at your grandmother's house and never got enough of it.

Hardboiled Classic

The "Trestle Gate" (And How It Resonated Over Here)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 14:03:00 +0000

You might know it by now, you might not, but there is somewhat of a scandal going on. Well, it IS a scandal. Let's not mince words here. The publisher has been caught red handed stealing art from a bit everywhere on the internet, from deviantart sites to household names like Square Enix and Marvel Comics (come to think about it, this was was obvious). While I don't think there is any malice behind this gesture, I do think Trestle Press is taking copyright infringement WAY too lightly and that doesn't do his writers any good. But then again, it is questionable whether Trestle Press has been in it to give quality product in the first place. Nothing against their writers, but from what I've been told, their editing services are close to non-existent. They had contacted me last Fall (like many writers) to offer me their services, but I declined. I didn't have a decent number of short stories written yet and really, would I trust a publisher who wants in before even reading my stories yet?

Anyway, if you want the complete picture on this fiasco, click here. It has the accusations, the evidence and even Trestle Press' official statement about the issue.

Anyway, enough has been said about that. I'm angry towards Trestle Press because many friends of mine have been caught in the crossfire, including Paul D. Brazill who got the worst of it, no doubt. The scandal also reached out to Dead End Follies. I had a Trestle Press title from McDroll up for review next Monday. While she had supplied the cover image for her collections herself, she decided to withdraw her two titles from publication. That causes an issue with reviewing as there is no way for my readers to buy the eBooks in question, so it looks like I'm just doing a publicity stunt for a friend. So, after discussing the issue with McDroll and we decided that I will write the review, but publish it whenever she'll find a new home for her work. Whether it's self-published or with another indie press. That way, it'll help her get back on her feet after this scandal. Right now, reviewing KICK IT would not do any good. I'll give a hand to Paul also when his titles will find a new home.

In the meantime, the review schedule for next week is a bit jumbled. Normally, I should review ASK THE DICE next Monday, but I won't try to power through it. Out of respect for Ed Lynskey and his novel (which is a fun read), I will give it the time and attention in deserves. If I'm not done with ASK THE DICE by Monday (I might be, I might not be), I will review Tom Piccirilli's excellent EVERY SHALLOW CUT and I'll review Ed Lynskey's novel Wednesday or Friday. I'm talking to a few ex-Trestle Press writers right now and I am going to try an organize as many reviews as I can to help them get back in the mix. It's not much, but doing something is better than doing nothing. So no McDroll next week, but you'll see my reviews of KICK IT and KICK IT AGAIN soon enough on Dead End Follies.

Trained in the Ways of Men (2007)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 13:16:00 +0000

Country:

USA

Recognizable Faces:

Sylvia Guerrero
Gwen Araujo

Directed By:

Michelle "Shelly" Prévost

On any given day, I find movie taglines absolutely ridiculous. They are made to sell you a product, not to accurately describe the viewing experience. TRAINED IN THE WAYS OF MEN's tagline is: "You will never think about gender in the same way again". That's not ridiculous at all, because this documentary will definitively challenge your beliefs. The cliché expression "though-provoking" also applies here. Shelly Prévost's movie adresses a single event, but a very deep issue. The fate we reserve to transgender people as a society. It's easy to watch TRAINED IN THE WAYS OF MEN and shake your head, feeling sorry for people. But Shelly Prévost is a clever director, so she turns the question unto to YOU. What would you do, if you found out that your lover or your "person of interest" per se was a trans gender? Not so easy, when you can't judge from a distance.

Michael Magidson, Jose Merel, Jaron Nabors and Jason Cazares found out that the girl they knew as Lida (Gwen) had male genitalia, so they decided to beat the shit out of her and choke her to death in their garage. Yeah, not cool. I know. Even worse, they used something known as the gay/trans panic defense in their trial. Using this, you could lower the charges against you, because it was seen as acceptable that learning about somebody being transgender can turn you into a rabid ape for a small window of time. Prévost used as a counter-example the case of Estanislao Martinez, who got only four years of prison to repeatedly stabbing Joel Robles with a pair of scissors after finding out he was not a woman. That's where the murder of Gwen Araujo at least didn't go unpunished and served a purpose for other transgenders. The Gwen Araujo Justice for Victims act was ratified in 2006 by the Gübernator himself, Arnold Schwarzenegger and made the gay/trans panic defense illegal to use in a court of law. Hard to believe, but he did some good too.

The four boys who killed Gwen Araujo weren't gangbangers or tough guys whatsoever. They were stupid kids, who changed into wild beasts for an evening. The surprise is understandable. Gwen was a beautiful transgender girl and word was that Jose Merel was in love with her. Watching TRAINED IN THE WAYS OF MEN and making the perspective exercise, what's so bad about finding out about a transgender person? Yeah, there's an issue of trust, especially if feelings were involved and I can understand the repulsion to a certain degree *. But come on. Transgender people aren't wigged-up boogeyman preying on your inner closet homosexual. They are people who suffer because they are born in the wrong body. Born with a woman brain and a woman heart, but in a man's body. What would you do if it was you? Would you try to hide it? Can you really blame a seventeen years old girl for wanting to go out with boys? That's not so easy to answer. Transgender might seem like an aberration on the first look, but they are people who live with a tremendous amount of existential pain and they find a way to make it work.

What's a woman? Is it only something anatomic or it has to do with a way of being? Honestly, how many of you would have guessed Nong Toom wasn't always a woman? If you love a person, love the way she looks, the way she is, does it really matter what's in her pants? Gwen's mother, Sylvia Guerrero has since then dedicated her life to educate people about those questions. The made the cause of transgender people get forward like no one else. She got Gwen a posthumous name change (her male name was Eddie), she got the Gwen Araujo Justice for Victims act ratified. Transgender people sleep a little more soundly because of her. TRAINED IN THE WAYS OF MEN is a testament to those efforts. It's also a memorial to Gwen, to how she didn't die in vain.

The documentary was visibly made with very little ressources, but the DIY aesthetic adds to its charm. A defense lawyer sitting on a chair, in between a camera and a black curtain will feel a little naked and incomfortable. Shelly Prévost put some very intense suit-wearing men on the spot and got some interesting information out of them. The murder of Gwen Araujo changed the law and TRAINED IN THE WAYS OF MEN will change the way you look at sexual identity. It's a flint for debate in your household.

SCORE: 94%

* Yeah, I do. I don't say it's impossible to fall in love with a transgender person, but it would sure take a lot of love and open-mindedness to overcome the you know, "in-between". Maybe it's not the case in Thailand where ladyboys are part of the culture, but I don't want to pretend I'm more progressive than I really am.

An Open Letter to Jonathan Franzen

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 14:01:00 +0000

Dear Jonathan Franzen,

I would call you Sir, but you're somewhat of an abstraction to me. A concept, if you will. First, let me tell you that I'm a fan of your work and that I am not trying to blow smoke up your ass here. I have read all of your books, except for THE TWENTY-SEVENTH CITY and THE DISCOMFORT ZONE and thought they ranged from great to sublime. I would be one of the only "serious readers" I know, willing to compare your fiction favorably to the one of your recently deceased friend, David Foster Wallace. I think both of you are great, but I understand your ideas better and to some extent, understand and share your worries about Occidental society. Your writings influenced mine, but that's beside the point. I just wanted you to know that I'm on your side most of the time.

I'm writing you today, to address the comments you've made on the damaging nature of eBooks. I will quote you: "Someone worked really hard to make the language just right, just the way they wanted it. They were so sure of it that they printed it in ink, on paper. A screen always feels like we could delete that, change that, move it around. So for a literature-crazed person like me, it's just not permanent enough" and "“I think, for serious readers, a sense of permanence has always been part of the experience. Everything else in your life is fluid, but here is this text that doesn’t change". Let me speak to you in barroom vernacular for a second. Man, what the fuck?

I'm not sure wether it's Lenin or another of those Russian leaders that said that philosophy is the priviledge of the well-fed*, but your passionate defense of physical books make you sounds like you haven't missed a meal or had trouble paying your bills in many years. Selling millions of copies of your books will do that to you. I know from reading your essay collection HOW TO BE ALONE that you're rather worried about the state of literature and reading today. Well, I think the "sense of permanency" is the last thing you should worry about then. eBooks are doing a lot more good than harm, both for readers and writers and the fact that you seem absolutely oblivious to this reality makes me wonder how long it's been since you have stepped out in "the territory" as Mark Twain said.

First of all, I know you will never have to worry about this, but do you know how many terrific writers are being weeded out of print edition for factors that have nothing to do with the quality of their writing? To make place for the James Patterson and Jodi Picoult** of this world, authors with more bold and original ideas are being pushed aside and receive form rejection letters in their mailbox everyday. For every Chad Harbach, there are 9999 nameless writers who will never make it because they're not commercial enough. The market Amazon created has its defaults, sure. But it also allowed many talented writers to reclaim their rightful place in the literary landscape. Writers like Vincent Zandri and Allan Guthrie have made good use of the Kindle market and are now back into print. Isn't it amazing?

I know what you're going to say. They are crime writers. I can see the disgust on your face when you say "genre" fiction. To this one, I can only answer "to each his own". But think like this. Genre fiction is more popular than literary in general. I know your books sell more than most genre authors, but you're an exception. Whenever something new in literature will happen, genre writers will run to it first. The competition is more fierce in their field and there are a lot more of them. So the Kindle market is not a "genre haven" or anything. At least, I don't think it is. I don't think it's different than the print market. Literary writers will slowly follow the more commercial minded ones and it's OK. I read literary fiction and I read crime also. Does it make me less of a "serious reader"?

Also, think about the reader that doesn't have too much financial ressources, a day job, kids and who still loves a good story. Not only the eReaders are financially viable, but they're also use as a platform for the rebirth of extinct species. Literary magazines, short story anthologies, freakin' novellas are coming back strong. Who would have thought? Passionate people like David Cranmer, editor of Beat to a Pulp, is using the eBook format to try and spark another pulp magazine era. Do you remember pulp magazines? They are relics of an era where MEN READ FICTION. Last week, I was standing behind a man at the grocery store, who read a Joe Lansdale collection. JOE LANSDALE!

My point is, eBooks are helping the spread of quality writing better than the print industry right now. I will grant you that it's still the Far-West over there, but one survives by the quality of his writing and the readers are the only judges. They are also democratizing reading. eReaders make it cheaper than ever to read and due to the chaotic nature of its platform, a reader is most likely to find exactly what he wants in matter of themes and style, even if he doesn't know the name of any writers. People that just want "a good story" are more likely to find it on the Kindle Store than in a bookstore, served by a snobbish English student.

That said, I understand your technophobia. Social medias can be a murderer for the craft and sometimes I wish I didn't slip my finger between the cogs. But reading is reading and except for the Kindle Fire (which I don't approve of), everything there is to a Kindle is text. Stories to read. Your stories. My stories even. You have to step out there and face things to realize that technology isn't a monolithic monster that preys on your creativity. I'm sure a rational man like you can make the difference in between a Kindle and Facebook.

So, isn't "permanency" something a little silly to worry about? You're the flag-bearer for serious fiction writers, at the dawn of a literary revolution. Your word is important. Please, don't be a part of the problem, like that nincompoop Harold Bloom, who behaves like aesthetism has been raped every time WAR & PEACE hasn't been re-written. I don't think that print books and eBooks will ever compete until we, the savage humans, ransack the last forest on Earth, but eBooks is getting people interested in literature again. I dare to believe that it gives written fiction a new, fresher image.

Please, don't grow irrelevant. You're an important writer for me and I'd hate to see you miss the boat.

* I'm paraphrasing, I know. The integrity of the quote is not important here.

** By the way, don't worry. I know she badly wants to be considered on the same level as you, but I know better.

Pearce Hansen - Street Raised (2006)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 14:15:00 +0000

Country: USA

Genre: Crime

Pages: 216/542 kb

Buy the hardcover

Buy the eBook

"You wanted to see me," Speedy said, sawed-off pointing at the floor. He'd always felt it was rude to point a piece at a man in his own house unless you were getting ready to use it.

Crime fiction doesn't always have to be dark. It can be gritty and blood-soaked without getting into the throes of depression and darkness within. STREET RAISED, by Pearce Hansen reads like a love letter more than the usual action-packed obituary that is noir. I understand why it is so. Where you come from and who you grew up with is a part of you. You can find poetry in the meanest, most dangerous streets if they are YOUR streets. STREET RAISED packs a lot of action and drama, but it's a lively portrait of the Oakland area. It's far from being a perfect novel, but when your characters have this unspeakable charm and your story feels strong and visceral enough, you can get away with almost anything. This bad boy will require a patient reader, but in the greater scheme of things, it's a rewarding read. Pearce Hansen takes a lot of detours, but he always finds the highway.

The story of STREET RAISED has more to do with an epic poem than a modern crime novel. John "Speedy" Hancock is released from prison and hitchhikes his way to Oakland, to piece up his life together. He's looking for his little brother Willy, who has turned his life over to the demon of addiction and his friend Fat Bob who's now bouncing bars. The get-together plans are soon derailed when Mexican gangsters send two of their friends to their horrible death. Speedy and Bob then put the breaks to their cute feelings and start planning revenge. But you know, life doesn't let them wreck havoc without getting in the way. Speedy meets Carmel, a beautiful phone psychic and Officier Louis (my favorite character), the same man who put Speedy behind bars comes back in the rear view with an agenda of his own. That's just a few speed bumps Speedy and Bob run into, on their way to getting even.

Let's get it out of the way first, there is only one major issue that bothered me with STREET RAISED. There's really not much left to the reader to forge his own opinion of the characters. It's true especially regarding to Speedy. There's a lot (too much) of qualifiers written to make sure that we know how Speedy feels towards the situation and that those feelings are pure of heart. Pearce Hansen gets in the way of his character. It's not uncommon, great writers also suffered from this. John Updike for example. I didn't like it, I thought that Speedy's actions spoke loud enough for him most of the time. It's obvious that he's a good dude in a rough place. As much as this gets in the way, it doesn't deter too much from the overall beauty of STREET RAISED. The main attraction of the novel to me, was Pearce Hansen's magnificent portraits of a sprawling and chaotic Oakland.

In Willy's mental movie, the people try to fight that modern miracle the Freeway, just as Berkeley had done so successfully. But the West Oaklanders aren't white professionals and academics safely ensconced behind their money up in the Hills - they're blue collar blacks living in the Flats, without the necessary ressources to practice Berkeley's brand of NIMBY-ism.

Certain places shape a certain type of people. Eskimos* are often fat because they grew up in a blistering cold for generations and their body adapted with a natural isolating cold. Warmer climates often have happier and more social people due to the kinder weather and the lack of urban development, leading to a proliferation of smaller communities.** STREET RAISED functions with the same logic. It's a hard place that shapes and breeds hard people, who can deal with anything life can throw at them. The Oakland of Pearce Hansen is a fascinating hive-mind mother that preys on its children to keep its cycle going. She's worth the read alone. I might have my issues with STREET RAISED, it's also a little derivative. There are chapters the novel could've existed without and it would have been tighter. But the good outweights the bad here. Nobody writes crime the way Pearce Hansen does. His unique, picaresque view of the American streets has strangely left me wanting more.

There's a new novel out...

THREE STARS

* or Innus, to be politically correct

** I know this is generalizing and absolutely not scientific, but please don't flood me with comments and emails about this. You get the idea.

Led Zeppelin - Black Dog

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 15:40:00 +0000

I survived moving apartments. I'm posting live from in between two piles of boxes just to say hi, because I still have a mountain of things to do, including *ugh*...configuring the wireless network. In the meantime, I'll leave you with some audio sex from Led Zeppelin. BLACK DOG is one of those songs I would naughty-dance to every goddamn day of the week. I wouldn't be surprised that it would figure in some top ten of most used pole dancing songs of all time. Rock doesn't always mean hard, sometimes it can also mean sexy. In rare cases (like Led Zeppelin), it can mean both. Enjoy!

Led Zeppelin - BLACK DOG

Hey, hey, mama, said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove.
Oh, oh, child, way you shake that thing, gonna make you burn, gonna make you sting.
Hey, hey, baby, when you walk that way, watch your honey drip, can't keep away.

Ah yeah, ah yeah, ah, ah, ah. Ah yeah, ah yeah, ah, ah, ah.
I gotta roll, can't stand still, got a flaming heart, can't get my fill
Eyes that shine burning red, dreams of you all through my head.
Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah.

Hey, baby, oh, baby, pretty baby, tell me that you'll do me now
Hey, baby, oh, baby, pretty baby, do me like you do me now
Didn't take too long 'fore I found out, what people mean my down and out.
Spent my money, took my car, started telling her friends she wants to be a star.
I don't know but I been told, a big-legged woman ain't got no soul.

All I ask for when I pray, steady rollin' woman gonna come my way.
Need a woman gonna hold my hand, won't tell me no lies, make me a happy man.
Ah ah Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah

Jutta Profijt - Morgue Drawer Four (2009)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 14:22:00 +0000

Country: Germany

Genre: Crime/Police Procedural

Pages: 231

"Sacha" Martin whispered.Of course he could have no way of knowing that I changed the first letter of my name from S to P ever since that schlocky TV show with that guy named Sascha on it, and so now I go by Pascha. Nothing to do with Turkish brothels. I was nice enough to explain this to him.

Until very recently, I didn't know who Jutta Profijt was. I didn't even know Germany had a crime fiction scene. Thanks to a nice publicity woman who is very on-the-ball about what she does, now I know and you will soon all know about this lady of crime fiction that deserves your attention for at least a few minutes. MORGUE DRAWER FOUR was short listed for the Friedrich Glauser Award for best crime novel in 2010 and reading it, one can understand why it would've struck a nerve with any jury. It's a funny and completely unconventional novel about themes that have been beaten to death, thanks to the invasion-of-Poland marketing plan that the CSI franchise have been pulling on us for the last eight years. But yeah, you heard me. MORGUE DRAWER FOUR is a fresh spin on things that makes me almost long for more police procedural fiction. The key word here being "almost".

It's a crime novel, but the beauty of it is that it's also a ghost story. Because the narrator Pascha is dead. He's been murdered or at least he think he has been. He fell from a high point while shitfaced drunk and remember being pushed. It's as unreliable as it gets for a testimony, but nonetheless he will convince the coroner Martin Gänsewein to take a look into the case. Most people would require a lot less than a ghost to do so. To give Pascha some credit, the investigation has been closed very quick and the circumstances of his death are questionable. Pascha was a car thief and during his last job, he found out that there was a body in the trunk of the car he was driving. After getting over the initial shock of being haunted by the ghost of one of his clients, Martin decides to give this case a shot, based on Pascha's allegation. Not the most rational move, I know but would you have done better in his place?

The weird thing about MORGUE DRAWER FOUR is that its main strengths also becomes its weaknesses at a some point. It's humor, for example. It's often rooted in Pascha's peculiar way of seeing life, which transpires a lot in his speech. While it's hilarious at first, the form of MORGUE DRAWER FOUR often gets in the way of Pascha and makes his best aspects more and more difficult to bear. The chapters are long and winding and Pascha is narrating many scenes. It gets excruciating to read, about a hundred pages in. I would've loved this sharp, fast paced speech in very short chapters. Forty-something pages narrated through his frantic vision get from funny to tiring quicker and quicker. It's too bad because Jutta Profijt really nailed the speech of a street youth. She has an ear for vernacular. Pascha speaks like a young thug would and it's an impressive feat considering that most crime protagonist talk like severely depressed philosophers.

What planet had I landed on? You drink tea when you're sick. I mean, really sick. Really suffering. Puking and the runs and all that. And the first thing you try is actually Coke, everyone knows that. But when the cholera or whatever causes such messy business has been sticking around for a while, then you switch to tea. In the face of death, and definitively not together with a chick on your couch before you get down to business.

Please, take my frustrations with a grain of salt here. MORGUE DRAWER FOUR was a fun read. It changes the pace from the ever-so-serious world of crime fiction. It's nice to read someone who has been doing some thinking outside the box. While it's been interesting, I know Jutta Profijt is releasing a sequel soon and I'm not sure MORGUE DRAWER FOUR convinced me to give it a shot. I don't know where Pascha and Martin could go from there without falling into the ridiculous. I know their relationship is ridiculous to begin with, but it has this over-the-top, not-so-subtle charm that the Hammer Production movies had. Solving Pascha's murder is something, but being a supernatural crime fighting team, I'm not so sure about that. But hey, by all means. Take a look at MORGUE DRAWER FOUR if you're aching for a change of pace in your reading. It's in a category of its own. It's enjoyable (and short), but I just don't think this is going to turn into a winning recipe.

THREE STARS

Lie To Me, The Postmortem

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 14:51:00 +0000

I like to think I have grown past my "watching-television-series-on-DVD-is-the-greatest-thing" stage. Because most of the time, it's true. I was swept away by THE WIRE, ran out of steam on DEXTER and MAD MEN, never really was into THE SOPRANOS and am still on board with BREAKING BAD, but really, what else is there? Watching series is insanely time-consuming and one should stay away from it if he doesn't want to see life pass him by. But then, the move came up and Josie and I were left scrambling to find a way to mute the inner anguish that's often associated with such a bold life move. Then* LIE TO ME came and stole both of our souls.

Six weeks later, we emerged from 48-episodes coma with a smile and a lot to think about. LIE TO ME was anything but perfect, but I'll be damned if it didn't feature one of the most complex, dynamic and lovable characters of all-time. The series has been cancelled by FOX last Spring after running for three seasons. I can't say I'm surprised that it was, because it's a series that has been run into the fucking ground by an absurdly long season two, but it was its potential, shining through its flaws, that made it such an enthralling experience. Let's take a closer look at what LIE TO ME did right and to what it did wrong.

Right - Dr. Cal Lightman. A violent nature, yet an intellectual. Oozing with libido and yet a responsible father. A successful business owner and yet a thug at heart. Confrontational and yet such a loving man. You get my point. Cal Lightman is one of the most beautifully flawed, conflicted and layered characters I was given the joy to watch/read in recent years. Writer Samuel Baum understand that conflict is about clashing details in one's personality and not necessarily about confrontation. Lightman is the star of the show and carries its interest on his shoulders. It also helps that he's brilliantly portrayed by Tim Roth.

Wrong - Eli Loker. Here's a character that never took off, so he was stored in the background as a borderline utilitarian role. The most painful parts is whenever he has the start of a storyline, only to see it die a stillborn in the following episode. He has a romance with Torres, which ends after one night. He's looking for another job, because he hates Lightman** but he never leaves. He never shuts up (presumably due to contractual issues. On TV, you're paid more if you have a talking part), so he's constantly handling the small potatoes and more technical aspects of the show. Too bad, because Brendan Hines is a capable actor.

Right - Episodic Structure. The show is based around the science of face reading. As much as Lightman is a great character, it wouldn't have been so unique without this quirk. A week-to-week episodic structure keeps things fresh and entertaining, as a continuous storyline would have steered the series towards the characters, which I don't think would have been such a good idea...

Wrong - Plot Holes. Many, many plot holes. Whatever didn't turn around Lightman, usually end up into a gaping one. In the first season, Torres' boyfriend is in coma at the last episode...only to disappear from the show without a trace. Mekhi Phifer has the character with the most interesting dynamic with Lightman and suddenly vanishes from the show after being shot. There's a one liner about him in the third season saying that he's got a desk job now because of Lightman and that he's very angry, but c'mon! Also, Lightman's wife disappear from the face of the Earth at some point.

Right - Untold romance. Tim Roth and Kelli Williams are nurturing this untold and unlived romance in between Lightman and his associate Gillian Foster. It's one of the best non-verbal display of love and attraction I have seen on screen in memory. They are two cute love birds, coming from very different worlds.

Wrong - Ignored romance. Ria Torres, played by the beautiful and talented Monica Raymund, had great potential as a character but got shelved alongside Loker. Perhaps the most frustrating evidence of that is that the writers passed beside the obvious potential romance with Mekhi Phifer's character Reynolds. They were made for each other, it was as clear as day, but nothing happened. Ugh.

If anything, LIE TO ME is a testament that a story can work with one strong enough character. The plot holes don't matter as much when you care about the people. I'm sad to see it go, but the best things are those that end at some point. Wait, did LIE TO ME have an ending? No. It ended on a stupid romantic cliffhanger and a prospective new character for a potential new season. It's as terrible as it gets. Maybe Fox took the right decision and pulled the plug before it would've got ridiculous. In any case, if you're aching for a new series to check out, give LIE TO ME a chance. It's the kind of series you can pick up at any time, so it won't wreck your life too much.

* Thank you, Netflix

** Honestly, it would've been a great way out for this character.

Escape from L.A. (1996)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 14:09:00 +0000

Country:

USA

Recognizable Faces:

Kurt Russell
Steve Buscemi
Peter Fonda
Pam Grier
Bruce Campbell
Stacy Keach

Directed By:

John Carpenter

There is an archaic beauty to Snake Plissken franchise. There is no way such a movie would be sold to a major Hollywood studio nowadays, even less to an audience*. No, Snake is a relic of a long gone era where the entertainment industry still had the balls to propose movies that were different and most important, that didn't take themselves seriously at all. ESCAPE FROM L.A. is pulp fiction so over-the-top, it's worthy of the pages of Man's Life Magazine (a publication Occidental society misses dearly). There's a good chance that you've never seen anything like Snake Plissken's adventures. That's a good thing because unlike most post-apocalyptic science-fiction movies nowadays, it knows exactly what it's trying to offer. A world so over-the-top dystopian that it will make you smile and put Mad Max in therapy. I re-watched ESCAPE FROM L.A last week for the third time in fifteen years and you know what? It's ridiculously far fetched, the CGI is laughable, the setting is so implausible it makes my head hurt, but goddamit, it's a great pulp/sci-fi if I've ever seen/read one.

ESCAPE FROM L.A is eerily similar to 1981's ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, but don't be fooled, it IS a sequel. Snake Plissken (Russell) just had a shit luck for getting caught in patterns. This time, he's getting caught by the army** and threatened with deportation to Los Angeles, where the criminals to the new "moral" America are getting deported. After the great earthquake of 2000, L.A. has physically detached from the U.S and now serves as a penitentiary colony. In order to regain his freedom, Snake has to actually GO to Los Angeles and retrieve a package that was stolen from his president by his own daughter, Utopia (A.J Langer). The package is in the hands of a dangerous Che Guevara wannabee named Cuervo Jones (Georges Corraface), who plans to use it to invade the U.S. with other "third world countries", whatever third world means in this universe. Oh and Snake has to kill Utopia too. Because the president (Cliff Robertson) is a control freak who can't accept rebellion from anybody, not even his own kin. I know, it doesn't make much sense when said like that, but it's fucking awesome.

I've reviewed COLOMBIANA earlier this month and it one major similarity with ESCAPE FROM L.A. Both movies will fuck with your suspension of disbelief very hard. What makes ESCAPE FROM L.A very enjoyable where COLOMBIANA is not, is that it's not a movie that wants you to believe anything. It doesn't care if your disbelief is suspended or not in order to enjoy the story. The details that don't make any sense actually add to the wacky atmosphere and make the movie even more enjoyable. For example, the Los Angeles residents are banned for moral crimes, like "being Muslim in North Dakota" or being from a different ethnicity. Petty crimes, right? Yet, they turned L.A in an absolute war zone full of demented warlords in a little more than a decade. Or even more precise, when Snake is chasing Cuervo Jones' car on a stolen motorcycle, he tries to distance himself from the bodyguards by doing a wheelie. It doesn't make any sense, but who cares? It's badass.

In 1996, ESCAPE FROM L.A was probably at the cutting edge of the technology, but it beat father time as the CGI equivalent of the zipper-in-the-back monster movies of the fifties. It's made out of pure passion and it has the organic charm of a comic book. Kurt Russell is overplaying the badass archetype so bad, he's actually fun to watch. With a cast of characters with names such as Map-To-The-Stars Eddie, Carjack Malone and Cuervo Jones, it helps giving it even more of a charm. Don't expect it to revolutionize your view of dystopian science-fiction, because ESCAPE FROM L.A doesn't even pretend to do that. Watch it expecting some laughter and over-the-top action, like in a B movie from the eighties***. It's a story that has a fun and coherent madness to offer you. It's not great cinema, but it's a great work of art. Nostalgia has been kind to this one. It has a rightful place in your DVD/Blu-Ray collection alongside the likes of COBRA and COMMANDO.

SCORE: 85%

* I know there's been another Snake movie in 2010, but it wasn't the same thing. It was a straight-to-dvd knockoff. You can't have Snake Plissken without Kurt Russell, unless it's an animated feature with Russell voicing his trademark character.

** Again

*** In all fairness, it started as a B movie in the eighties. L.A just lives up to the spirit of its franchise very well.

Dead End Follies Book Club - IN NINE KINDS OF PAIN

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 13:38:00 +0000

BUY THE PAPERBACK

BUY THE eBOOK

Welcome to the book club. This week, for our first discussion, we have a debut author: Leonard Fritz. I have reviewed (and greatly praised) his first novel IN NINE KINDS OF PAIN, last December. I had good reasons for that. Lenny Fritz doesn't play extactly in the classic investigation/heist/meth labs/revenge paradigms of crime fiction. No, instead he drags you, the reader, in a guided tour of the wrong end of Detroit. The great Charlie Stella has compared Fritz to Hubert Selby Jr., which is very accurate. IN NINE KINDS OF PAIN is about your tour guide Baby and the worst week of her life, but it's also about the city who's just having another week at work. If you don't feel compelled to read it already (shame on you), here are a few reasons why you should pay great attention to the work of this writer, who's I'm sure, bound to great success.

THREE REASONS TO READ: IN NINE KINDS OF PAIN

1) The wisdom-giver. He regularly interrupts Baby's adventures to dish out some of the most angry and inspired prose you will read. He's merely an interlude in between chapters, but he sets the tone of Fritz's setting. He tells you exactly how dark and dangerous the streets of Detroit can be, so you can panic and Baby can keep her endearing tainted innocence.

2) Leonard Fritz's comic book panels. Do you know any serious crime novels that have comic book panels and on top of it, make it work beautifully alongside the story. IN NINE KINDS OF PAIN does.

3) Baby's boys. Power, law and religion. They are the crutches of every weak soul, the most seducing concepts to somebody spiraling downward. They are all present in Leonard Fritz's novel and they are all lusting for Baby.

But maybe you've read IN NINE KINDS OF PAIN already. Good for you then. You've spotted the diamond in the mine. If you haven't yet, stop reading this post right here and go buy the novel immediately. But if you've read it, well...maybe we can discuss it a little bit. It's a fairly short work, but it has many interesting points.

THREE TOPICS ABOUT: IN NINE KINDS OF PAIN

1) The protagonists are absolutely blinded by their immediate needs, leaving Baby to herself with her problems. Do you think their general depression and apathy is economically based (poverty) or moral? That the downfall of the Judeo-Christian culture (especially the "I shall not want") has lead exactly to its opposite?

2) Who do you think is the real protagonist here? Baby or Detroit? Explain how so.

3) Do you think we're bound to see more multimedia novels like IN NINE KINDS OF PAIN and Jesus Angel Garcia's badbadbad? Why do you think this suddenly appeared in the landscape? Do you think they're bound to threaten the literary form? If so, how?

R. Thomas Brown - Merciless Pact (2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:59:00 +0000

Country: USA

Genre: Horror

Pages: 117 kb (eOriginal)

Buy It Here

"You didn't have to tell her you wanted to bend her over the crash cart and fuck her in the ass". Greg gritted his teeth at the loss of control. "Yeah, sorry about that."

The best stories of Edgar Allan Poe has this particularity that made them so haunting. THE FALL OF THE HOUSE USHER, for example, was the story of a terrible curse on the surface, but Poe gives the reader just enough cues to imply an horrible inter-generational incest story. Reading it, you're not sure which one is the most alarming explanation. R. Thomas Brown's novella MERCILESS PACT functions under the same story mechanics. It gives you the choice to let your imagination run amok or to rationalize what's going on and in both cases, the protagonist Greg's fate is horrible. It's a very bold release that channels inspiration from one of the masters of horror and successfully so. MERCILESS PACT tackles the difficult subject of not giving in to your urges, but rather becoming them. To a certain point, this was somewhat experimental.

Greg's a good guy. A simple guy who loves simple things like there are so many in Texas. He likes to drinks and to watch baseball. That sort of thing. One day, a friend breaks into his house and vomits on him and everything changes. One would argue that anybody's life would change if a friend vomited in your mouth, but in this case, PTSD is the least of Greg's worries. He starts losing control of himself. Urges and creeping up in his mind and body. First, it's irrepressible urges to have sex. That queers things up with the local barmaid and with his friend Doug, but they are just the symptoms of something buried a lot deeper. Greg's life is turning upside down as he starts having conversations with coyotes, who seem to know more than him about the nature of his ills. In the immortal words of Don Corleone, he's about to receive an offer he can't refuse.

"I guess things just look different at night", he said to the wildling across the way before the coyote skittered back and laughed as it vanished into the woods.

MERCILESS PACT chronicles the transformation of Greg into a beast. Where Brown hits that "Poe-esque" note is by always leaving a doubt whether his protagonist is really possessed by something otherworldly or is just really sick from...well, having a sick person vomiting into his mouth. One could be ticked off by it, but I thought it was a nice touch. Horror lies in the balance in between the unspeakable and the human perception of it. In MERCILESS PACT, it's playing in between Greg's perception and OUR perception of the events. So there are two layers of incertitude. For a novella, this is impressive.

One thing that bugged me a little (but who was inevitable) is the later parts where Greg becomes really, more of an animal than a human. That's where MERCILESS PACT becomes a little more experimental. There were not many ways to describe the devolution of a man through language, but I thought it would have been more convincing if the form would have been left out of the equation (it is after all, narrated in third person). Anyway, MERCILESS PACT is a unique and challenging horror novella. It doesn't pack no peek-a-boo scares, but goes deeper and scratches some fundamental human fears.Of course, it's a novella. It's something you read on a rainy afternoon, in a sitting or two. It will touch the right button and give you a good, quick scare.

THREE STARS

Pitch Black Noir

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 14:26:00 +0000

No song this week. Instead, here's a short documentary directed by Adam Wangler, that introduces you to the some of the main players of noir today, all gathered at a Noir At The Bar evening in St-Louis, Missouri. It's mainly narrated by Scott Phillips (THE ADJUSTMENT, THE ICE HARVEST, COTTONWOOD), but you will also meet the likes of Matthew McBride (Frank Sinatra In A Blender), Jed Ayres (A FUCKLOAD OF SCOTCH TAPE), Malachi Stone, without his Wal-Mart bag on his head and there's even footage of a reading by Anthony Neil Smith, one of my favorite writers. If you want to meet some of the greatest minds of today's noir, take eight minutes to watch this. It's a great piece of documentary.

If you're interested in reading some Smith, but don't want to spend any of your precious money, PSYCHOSOMATIC is free until the end of the day on the Kindle Store. Thanks to Malachi Stone who made the documentary available on his YouTube channel.

The Return of the Rating System

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 15:33:00 +0000

To rate or not to rate a book, is the Great Debate for bloggers. On one hand, it's very unfair to writers to rate their books on a rigid and arbitrary scale but on the other hand as a blogger, your word is your bond and if you want gain influence and popularity, you need a solid baseline for your tastes. My own rating system exploded after reading THE CRYING OF LOT 49 by Thomas Pynchon. While I didn't get much out of it, it would have been unfair to give it any low score because well...it didn't suck, I just didn't understand anything.

Not rating a book as gives problems. I also review (well, really it's more of a blurb) books on social sites like Goodreads and Amazon, to help and promote the working writers (and warn-off against bad books too, to a certain extent). The scoring dynamic of those two sites is very peculiar. It's a political gesture, more than anything else. Like voting, for example. If you like a writer, you're almost forced to give him four or five stars, because if you give him anything lower, it's going to hurt his sales. The blog reviews are often influenced by that as I feel the need to justify what I've rated on Goodreads and Amazon. Meaning it's not objective.

But thanks to Lori, from The Next Best Book Blog, I think I have found the solution to this issue. A workable compromise, at least. Her rating system really is a recommendation scale. It doesn't speak of the quality of the material in the book, but on the effect it had on the reviewer. Since I have a fairly good idea of who I am and what my tastes are, I find most books I read enjoyable, but the books that are game changers to me are fairly rare. Lori's system reflects that and that's why the new Dead End Follies rating system for books will heavily borrow from hers (don't worry, she gave me her blessing beforehand).

Dead End Follies Rating System for Books

One Star - Not Recommended

Two Stars - Recommended to Adventurous Readers only. You might want to buy that book in a shopping spree, but it's a toss up as to whether you'll like it or not. If I rate Two Stars, there's a good chance I didn't like it, but I recognize the quality of the writing.

Three Stars - Recommended to Fans of the Genre. Enjoyable read overall, won't turn anybody to this kind of writing, but will take its rightful place in your book collection.

Four Stars - Strongly Recommended. This is the type of book you want to look out for, if you want to try a new genre or if you're bored with everything that's done in this field. If this book was a wine bottle, it would be in my cellar.

Five Stars - Personally Recommended. As a reader, I'm always longing for a certain type of book. This type in particular that affects me physically as I read it. It's the can't-stop-reading, this-is-the-best-thing-ever kind of book. By giving a book Five Stars, I'm almost certain you will enjoy it as much as I did.

As you can see, three stars will be a positive review and a book will have to stand out to get four and be exceptional to have a five stars review. Only three books I've read in the last two years have got the proverbial five stars. Truman Capote's IN COLD BLOOD and Anthony Neil Smith's HOGDOGGIN' and CHOKE ON YOUR LIES. Three out of a hundred and fifty-something books. There were maybe twenty books worthy of four stars. Those two rates are reserved for the most gorgeous, gripping books there are. Three stars isn't a bad review at all. It means your book was good, highly enjoyable even, but that it was missing the ingredients of greatness. It's normal. You can't hit a home run every time you walk up to the plate.

That said, I will keep rating books ridiculously high on Goodreads and Amazon, because as I said earlier, it's a political gesture to do so. If I like a writer, I want to contribute to his good name and sites like these two don't leave space for anything else than bluntness. Four and Five Stars reviews are used as a shopping barometer and even some bloggers use it as a review baseline*. Dead End Follies will be where I discuss a book in depth and give you my accurate recommendation on it.

* Some bloggers demand a certain number of four and five stars reviews for taking an eBook into consideration, which I think is stupid.

Jack Kerouac - On The Road (1957)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 14:36:00 +0000

Country: USA

Genre: Literary/Coming-Of-Age

Pages: 307

A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.

I read ON THE ROAD for the first time in french and almost by accident. I had this class called "Cinema and Other Arts" and I decided at the last minute to make my last paper a comparative study of post-war road narratives in between ON THE ROAD and the movie EASY RIDER. I had a C for that paper, which is downright insulting, so despite having fond memories of ON THE ROAD, I left it aside and tried not to think about it too much. But then came Sarah' Back To The Classics 2012 Challenge, where I had to re-read a classic I liked. So I decided to give Old Kerouac another shot. Unsurprisingly enough, it's still very good and accessible. Depending on how much historical perspective you want to put in your reading, it would be or culturally important or highly enjoyable. This is to me, the definition of a classic. Something that everybody can read and appreciate given the time and effort of a thorough read.

The novel is separated in five parts, which represent narrator Sal Paradise's "life on the road". Each part describe a different road trip and stages of Sal's relationship with his friend Dean Moriarty he met at the very beginning of the book. Throughout the novel, both Sal and Dean are affected by the people they meet on the road, change and their relationship also change. Dean is carefree, fun, irresponsible and represents a world of opportunities for Sal at the beginning of the novel, but as Sal jumps into Dean's world and meets Marylou, Camille, Inez and the people in Dean's little world, he will slowly start realizing that it doesn't matter how fast you live, you can never outrun life. The two friends are living the dream of a carefree young age on the road, but as their adventures come to an end and the dream fades out, you're left with what's real about their lives.

I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn't know who I was - I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn't scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.

I'm no expert on the Beats. I will gladly admit that ON THE ROAD is the only Beats book I've ever read. Now, I know that this is largely autobiographical and most characters in the novel are the alter ego to a real life person. Dean Moriarity is supposed to be Neal Cassady, Old Bull Lee would be William Burrroughs and the hilariously named Carlo Marx would stand for Allan Ginsberg. That I understand, but purely as a novel, I think ON THE ROAD has something universal to say about the importance of traveling as a means of self-exploration. Hence the timelessness of the novel. If you don't know who you are, the best mirror you can find to identify yourself is the others. Go see how people live, how differently things are done from place to place. The more you will see, the more precisely you will think of yourself. That, I think is the message of ON THE ROAD.

This is both a beautiful and sad novel, because there is the distinctive feeling of conclusion. It's the complete chapter of Sal's life that closes with his incapacity to go on with this lifestyle, because he has moved on to something else. The last hundred pages are particularly heartbreaking as Sal gets physically sick and emotionally morose. Unlike Dean, Sal didn't have anything to run away from (or not much, really it's debatable) and the road will end up getting to him. If ON THE ROAD successfully passed the test of time and was so influential (FEAR & LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS would probably have never been written without it), it's because it laid a baseline for thinking outside the conventions of the American way of life. It's a well-lived story of wild youth and rebellion. Hopefully, with the film adaptation that's supposed to come out in 2012, ON THE ROAD will live on to inspire another generation of young people.

Classic Re-Read

All Things Kindle

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 14:40:00 +0000

Yesterday morning, I had nothing planned for today's post. Since I didn't have anything good to say, I was thinking about pimping someone else's work. But I wanted to talk about my new acquired (November) Kindle, also. I love this thing. Maybe a little too much, even. I have been swarmed with requests for eBooks reviews for the last two months and have worked myself an impressive reading queue. I was hesitating to close the eBook review panel for the last two weeks, but in a very Freudian gesture, I have went into a mild Kindle shopping spree, yesterday. That convinced me I should put this madness to a halt.

So if you click on my review policy link, you will find out I'm closed to Kindle review until April. I have taken engagement with several writers to review their work and I will apply myself to that for the next two months. So unless we're already friends, don't bother sending me your book until next April. But on the bright side of things, I have something to talk about this morning. Yesterday, I have bought three fiction and two non-fiction books on the Kindle store. Here's what I came up with (for the price of two paperbacks in store).

FICTION

Malachi Stone - Wicked King Dick

This guy's the biggest enigma to me. He wears a Wal-Mart bag on his head, he's signed in one of the most reputable agencies and yet I only found his work on the Kindle Store. He recently covered the first video diary by Casey Anthony and put this on YouTube, resulting in one of the creepiest things on the web right now.This oozes a distant smell of genius. I'm about to find out and if this is as good as I think it is, I'll get the word out on this Stone guy.

Victor Gischler - The Deputy

I missed my chance to get this one for free, like an idiot. After my friend Heath Lowrance warmly recommended it, I knew the wait was over. Heath has impeccable taste in pulp fiction and I don't know, something sounds right about THE DEPUTY. The fact that it all happens over one night, the setting and the fact that I've already read Gischler and liked it. I have a very good feeling about this.

Dave Zeltserman - Outsourced

I'm sitting on the fence about Zeltserman, but I think the idea of this book is brilliant. Outsourcing is an issue that touches most office jobs and making a crime novel about it is the most original thing since...fuck, I don't know. I'm not the only one who sees the genius in this. The book has been optioned for a movie and the shooting would be impending. I'm gonna be that guy in the theater who has READ THE BOOK BEFORE. Plus he will be the first writer with a name in the letter "Z" that I'll review for this site, so that's pretty cool too.

NON-FICTION

Noah Lukeman - A Dash of Style: The Art and Mastery of Punctuation

I'm in the mood to read some writing advice. The writing is going well, so anything is welcome to augment the momentum. I've read Lukeman's THE FIRST FIVE PAGES already and thought it was brilliant. The man is a reputable agent and explains his stance on the "What you shouldn't do", "What you should do" and "Why I threw your manuscript to the garbage and mailed you a form rejection". The man is smart, down to earth and has something genuine to say about writing. Plus, you know. Punctuation. I'm sure there are a few things to say about this.

John Gardner - The Art Of Fiction: Notes on Craft for Young Writers

I always prefer advice from well-known writers because it comes from real problems they had while practicing the craft and since they are well-known, they are more likely to have had found proper solution to those issues. They deal in the practical rather than the theoretical. I know it's ironic because writing a book about it is making it theoretical, but c'mon. It comes from experience rather than a textbook. I know everybody has their own way to make things work, but if I can take one good thing from it, it will be worth the read.

Until The Light Takes Us (2008)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 13:42:00 +0000

Country:

USA

Recognizable Faces:

Varg Vikernes
Fenriz
Frost
Hellhammer

Directed By:

Aaron Aites
Audrey Ewell

I've been a black metal fan for many years of my life. The main reason for that, is that it's by far one of the most artistically extreme musical genres. There are all sorts of crazy stories and urban legends tied to the movement. Antisemitism, psychological issues, pirates* and countless stories of extreme violence (including murders) made for a demented and spectacular folklore. For the last two or three years, my taste for black metal has considerably dwindled. I'm still listening to the likes of Mayhem, Darkthrone and Anaal Nathrakh, as well as a little Dimmu Borgir from time to time, but the genre lost its appeal to me in general. I picked up UNTIL THE LIGHT TAKES US after a discussion I had with Shotgun Honey's editor and writer extraordinaire Kent Gowran, curious to see how the black metal paradigm would hold up to a few years of perspective. It's still a very rich and compelling universe and while somebody most experienced with this music would get the flaws in the arguments, UNTIL THE LIGHT TAKES US does a very good job at presenting the father figures of the genre under the most haunting light.

The documentary follows mainly Darkthrone's Fenriz and the infamous Varg Vikernes, who murdered Mayhem's founding member and black metal pioneer Euronymous**. Fenriz doesn't say anything substantial, except deploring the current state of black metal. "I wish it didn't become a trend" would be his main statement throughout the film. I was ticked off by it, but somebody pointed to me that Fenriz looked like a huge music nerd and looking at his statements this way, it makes sense. The most interesting sequence that featured Fenriz was a press phone call he gave, where he's asked question that makes him lose his patience. Questions related to the raw aesthetics of the band. It's really important in the perspective of this movie, because this question of aesthetics and musical dogma ties everything together. Varg Vikernes, who's interviewed from his prison, while looking absolutely off his rocker (as usual), had much more interesting and controversial statements to make.

Vikernes explains how his early recordings with Burzum*** was a rebellion against the current song structure and recording methods in the industry. It's really ironic, because what was first motivated by a desire for difference has turned into a dogma in black metal. It's one of the most difficult crowd to please and there's a school of thought within the genre that doesn't accept anything but unconventional song structures and the most low-fi production possible****. Another interesting segment with Vikernes is HIS side of the story in the church burnings and the Euronymous murders. I must have heard these stories about a hundred times, but never for Vikernes' mouth. The climate of fear and paranoia that Euronymous worked so hard to create, in order to maintain his persona, will have gotten the better of him. He was saying a lot of things, but apparently he didn't do much. It's still unclear as why Vikernes killed him, but I think it's fair to assume he was pushed to the edge from living in this dark and threatening atmosphere all the time.

There are other legendary figures of black metal featured in UNTIL THE LIGHT TAKES US. Frost from Satyricon, who's participating in a piece of performance art in regards to an exhibit from a black metal influences visual artist (I can't remember his name, sorry). It's a shorter appearance, but it's very poetic how he's presented as a lost angel, in a world of darkness. I'm not big on performance art, but I thought what Frost did was really cool and not overly symbolic and cryptic like most performance art today. Hellhammer from Mayhem also makes an appearance, but it's more embarrassing than anything. I was ashamed of liking his music whenever he opened his mouth. He said things like: "I really honor Faust (another folkloric black metal figure) for killing that fucking faggot in Lillehammer"*****, which I thought he should have kept for himself. There's a huge history of intolerance in black metal, but to my knowledge it never was what Mayhem was all about. UNTIL THE LIGHT TAKES US was a good documentary, but it wasn't great and it introduced very little new data about black metal folklore. It's a neatly wrapped presentation, that's all. An accurate portrait of the founding fathers of black metal culture.

SCORE: 72%

* This statement is to take with a grain of salt, please.

** Here's the full story. Interestingly enough, despite the spectacular line-up changes, Mayhem has always remained able to produce some of the most interesting and unique music in the genre. To me, they are the face of black metal.

*** Burzum is Vikernes' one-man-band, who has been pretty much at the origin of the black metal sound. His material is legendary, yet still polarizing almost two decades later. Vikernes got out of jail a few years ago and Burzum has released two albums since.

**** In an effort to sound as crappy as possible, some bands really outdid themselves and great stories were born. I think it was a Danish band who recorded on a boat. A Canadian band also apparently recorded in the forest, outside in one take. That's hardcore.

***** Bard "Faust" Eithun killed a homosexual man in Lillehammer and got a 14 years sentence. Like Vikernes though, he got released and he's been doing music ever since.

The Existential Trial of Moving Out

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 13:39:00 +0000

Every five years or so, I move from an apartment to another. It's a grueling process every fucking time, but every move seems to be worse than the precedent. I'll be heading up a dozen blocks north of where I am now in two weeks and as you might have imagined, Josie and I have been living around boxes, bundled newspaper and to-do lists for a few weeks, now. Nobody likes moving, but a fascinating (and very depressing) aspect of it, is that cleaning up your crap puts your life in perspective like nothing else.

I threw an astronomical number of things to the garbage. Things I used to love at one point in my life, which made me wonder who the fuck was I, all these years ago? I threw away:

Computer games I have never really played. Games like M.A.X (Mechanized Assault and Exploration), which I had paid 3,99$ at a game store in Quebec City during my teenage years. It's a broken fucking game. It doesn't WORK. Back then, I bought any games if it was cheaper than ten dollars. What kind of thinking was that? Same thing for the cereal box video games. I bought the cereals to get the games (mostly digitalized board games like Monopoly or Sorry!) and I barely played the games. Oh and I didn't like the cereal either. Cheerios are overrated.

I sold 94 books (as I previously said on Twitter). I'm not sure why I kept for so long books that teachers twisted my arm into liking. I'm sorry Ousmane Sembene, you paint a very colorful portrait of your people, but I don't understand your struggle. Maybe it's the translation or maybe I should've been there. I'm sorry, but somebody else will give you a better shelf life than me, I hope. Meanwhile, I'm making more place for bleak and violent novels on my shelves. I feel like I'm abandoning a puppy at the SPA, but I'm sure it'll pass.

Things I didn't know I had. A container full of winter clothing for girls, a weird curtain made out of wooden beads. A fucking Nickelback CD. I had a Nickelback CD gathering dust in my locker and I don't know how it got there. It's like a vagrant have been living in my unused things for five years. That or I have a multiple personality disorder and my second personality is an Siberian transvestite with a really bad taste in music.

DVDs I bought when VHS were going out of business and DVDs were the cool thing to have. DEATH TO SMOOCHY, goddamit. I have a DVD of DEATH TO SMOOCHY. I'm ashamed of myself. When was I into Nickelback and bad movies? I wanted to crawl under a rock when I saw that. I counted that I had 37 DVDs that I was completely bonkers to buy. I think I just wanted to have a collection. But I have a DVD collection now, without all this garbage. The worst part is that I don't have the Quebec Cinema Office sticker on them, so I can't sell them. They will find the sidewalk and a new owner as soon as the temperature will go

You get the point. It's like twilight zone to me. When I'll wake up in my new place on January 29th, I won't just feel the disorientation of waking up in a different place (because this is a radically different apartment. Better, in my opinion, but different), I'll feel like being a different person altogether. All these things I collected and I was so secluded in my little world that I thought I was really cool for collecting them. Not. I spent a lot of time I usually spend writing at packing up stuff, filling up paperwork, buying new things, making phone calls and cleaning things up, but in two weeks it's gonna be all good.

Because the new place is rad. There's a backyard in there that would make Francis Scott Fitzgerald jealous and most importantly I will have a writing office with nothing but a table, a computer and a lot of books. The lighting in there is also pretty badass. It will be the first time I have my own space to write. Especially at night. I am stoked to move there. But getting there is an epic journey in itself.

Pearce Hansen - Gun Sex (2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 14:17:00 +0000

Country: USA

Genre: Crime

Pages: 215 kb (eOriginal)

Buy It Here

Dad had loomed over my life like an evil moon since I was a small boy.

I'm a sucker for unique and original things. My friends all think I'm deranged for preferring Monica Raymund to Kim Kardashian, but here's the thinking behind that. I prefer a girl that's beautiful in her own way and who looks like nobody else I know, rather than a patchwork of plastic surgeries. I know it's a shoddy metaphor, but it's the best way I can describe the work of Pearce Hansen. He's a guy who does his own thing. He writes with the manic passion of a 19th century author. In some stories, I could see glimpses of Alexandre Dumas' tattered heroes, walking the dangerous streets of America. GUN SEX is old school literature, like the ghost of another era that haunts our streets. While not all the stories hit the right notes, when Hansen does get the words right, you're in for some of the most peculiar and seducing fiction.

I have this theory about reading, that every writer has a core. A reason why they write, that directs their stories into a particular direction. It's not always evident where Pearce Hansen is going while reading GUN SEX, but it is there. He does show his core in the Speedy and Reseda stories. There are four of them. GIRL CRAZY, I WAS A PSYCHIC FRIEND (NO REALLY, I WAS), THE DAY HE RAISED and CARNY LOVE. These stories are all tied to his subsequent novel STREET RAISED and the beauty of those is the world that Pearce Hansen created. This Picaresque vision of America where freedom is a double edged blade, where trouble is always riding coattails to pleasure. You have to be strong and fearless to survive in Pearce Hansen's world.

I've been in enough hospitals and emergency rooms to know most people find it preferable not to be there. Pain and fear seem to hang in the air like a cloud, almost overwhelming the reek of medicine - I always imagine illness glued to the walls by the industrial paint, or hovering invisible in the air waiting for prey. There's usually blood too, but I haven't let that bother me much in a long time.

My favorite story in the collection was THE DAY HE RAISED, which is also the first chapter of STREET RAISED, where Speedy is released from jail into the gloomy streets of the neighborhood. It's a surreal vision that somehow reminded me the stories of Lovecraft and yet this is a realistic story. I would go as far as calling THE DAY HE RAISED masterful. Not all the stories are, though. The horror stories (most of them are at the beginning) don't quite fit the bill in GUN SEX and except for one (THE STORM GIANTS). I thought they weren't on par with the crime stories. Kudos for Pearce Hansen for writing outside of his comfort zone, but horror is not his thing. This unique blend of crime and classic adventure fiction is. Hansen is most comfortable when he's most unique and different.

There are other stories worth mention here. TOM RIPLEY: A SPECTRE PROFILE, while not being serious, was a nice wink to Patricia Highsmith and shows a very good understanding or the character. PARAPLEGIC KILLER CHIMP is a very cool bizarro piece that will leave you scarred for a little while. GREATER THAN THE SUM also, while being hard to categorize, is quite the charmer. Pearce Hansen is a writer that does things his own way and GUN SEX reflects just that. His voice is unique and while it won't please everybody, I thought his classic literature approach to crime fiction was a fresh way to look at the genre. I liked GUN SEX, but it didn't sold me to Pearce Hansen completely. If anything though, it hinted that STREET RAISED might just do that. It is next in line in my Kindle queue and it's looking at me with dirty eyes right now. Should you check out GUN SEX? Absolutely. If you need a change of pace, a unique voice. It's only 99 cents and it has some scorching stories for you.

Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross & Karen O - Immigrant Song

noreply@blogger.com (Ben) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 14:22:00 +0000

Not everybody has been crazy about the idea of an American remake of THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (David Fincher or not), but everybody's been going crazy over this cover of Led Zeppelin's IMMIGRANT SONG by the Reznor/Ross duo, featuring vocals by Karen O from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Reznor is really reinventing himself with this soundtrack gig. His music is highly visual. Here it is for you, to kick start your Sunday morning. Notice how I left the "Ahs" and the "Ohs" out of the lyrics.

Oh and here's a real life Jean-Claude Van Damme moment that happened yesterday, to complement your enjoyment of this song.

Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross and Karen O - IMMIGRANT SONG

We come from the land of the ice and snow,
from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands,
to fight the horde, singing and crying: Valhalla, I am coming!

On we sweep with threshing oar,
Our only goal will be the western shore.

So now you'd better stop
And rebuild all your ruins,
For peace and trust can win the day
Despite of all your losing.