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Announcement: Short-content feeds

Phillip Winn — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT

Sunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding.

Book Reviews: Cybernetica, The Blade Runner Experience, The Philosophy of Film Noir, more

W.E. Wallo — Wed, 26 Apr 2006 12:23:23 EDT

It is interesting to see on occasion how the books that end up on one's shelves in a seemingly haphazard manner suddenly form a sort of a pattern. I started reading Michael J. Cavallaro's novel, Cybernetica, which is about a Matrix-like future where the average citizen is controlled by a computer-to-brain neural network, just as The Blade Runner Experience: The Legacy of a Science Fiction Classic arrived. Shortly thereafter, I received a copy of The Philosophy of Film Noir. In many respects, these books come at society and culture from different angles, and yet offer intriguing insights into not only the neo-noir dystopian future but the present state of humanity as well.CyberneticaCybernetica borrows somewhat from the classic "cyberpunk" work of William Gibson and adopts the uncertain mind control concerns of The Matrix in a story where the world is largely controlled by a brain-to-computer interface system called "sublimation." This networked interface allows for a significant level of control over the general populace, and is the subject of intense conflict between an ever-shifting alliance of shadowy government operatives, corporate interests, and criminals.The story is set a generation after the conclusion of the "Encryption Wars." The rise of the sublimation interface means that the overwhelming majority of citizens exist in an interconnected environment in which their perceptions are subtly shaded and shaped by those who manipulate the system. There is a criminal subculture, however, that falls outside the system - a component of which suffer from a condition called blindsight, which somehow prevents them from connecting to the larger culture (according to Cavallaro, "blindsight" is essentially a neurological inability to receive some elements of subliminal information, which essentially means that a component of society is still able to "think for themselves"). From the ranks of these erstwhile criminals, a group of insurgents now seeks to destroy the sublimation system and restart society. (Full review)The Blade Runner ExperienceIf any film launched cyberpunk into the mainstream, it was Ridley Scott's 1982 future noir, Blade Runner. The film opened to middling reviews and lukewarm box office, but its status as a cult classic grew at an exponential rate. A director's cut of the film (and then another director's cut) eliminated the clunky voiceover narration by Harrison Ford, the film's star, and also expanded upon Scott's original vision of a world in which humans have become disinterested, despairing, and almost robotic in their existence - and where the quest for knowledge (if not the hunt for the divine) is embodied by the replicants, the "almost humans" with their crudely fashioned memories borrowed from "real" people. This book seeks to examine the film from a variety of perspectives; the series of essays included here consider not only the original film but the other ways in which the story has been expanded by a PC game and a series of novelized sequels (which seek to build upon the tenuous nature of Deckard's humanity, simultaneously bringing into sharp relief the question of exactly what it means to "be" human anyway). The book also explores the many ways in which the film has influenced a host of imitators, and delves into the interaction between the film's fans and the nightmarish future envisioned by Scott and his crew. The authors of the essays found here are a disparate collection of philosophers, film historians, and cultural critics, and the book is a welcome addition to the study of an amazingly influential film.The Philosophy of Film NoirTo most film purists, the "classic period" of film noir ended sometime in the 1950s. And one might well think that a film genre generally concerning itself with crime and often confining itself to the period immediately following World War II might not have much to do with the dystopian futures of so much contemporary science fiction. But I think such a conclusion is, in a word, wrong. Many of the thematic undercurrents of film noir in fact mirror the fearful realities of a story like Blade Runner, and there is little surprise in why Scott borrowed many of the conventions of noir for his film. The nihilistic and existential fatalism often found in film noir spills over into visions of dystopian futures as well. The alienated protagonists, the femme fatales, the Byzantine plots and the overriding sense of impeding, inevitable doom infuse them both. In this book, editor Mark Conrad and a group of other contributors (among them philosophers, film historians, and English professors) examine film noir through the prism of contemporary thought and find more than just an eclectic fusion of the hard-boiled detective and some fancy German expressionism. Instead, they discuss how film noir represented an active repudiation of the "American Dream," and how noir neatly inverted the standard assumptions about morality and progress. It derailed the notion that progress was always beneficial or inevitable, and in fact asked whether "progress" had really done any good at all. I enjoyed Conrad's lengthy exploration of Pulp Fiction as a contemporary neo-noir, and found the overall discussion of the existential disenchantment associated with noir fascinating.In keeping with the continuum of noir thought established in this text, one can certainly see the noir roots of Blade Runner or even a contemporary film such as John Cusack's recent "black comedy," Ice Harvest (indeed, Ice Harvest is best described not as a comedy at all, but as a bleakly humorous neo-noir). The Philosophy of Film Noir is at times a somewhat difficult book to read, as the writers delve into some of the more challenging aspects of cinematic analysis to make their various points. At the same time, however, it is quite a satisfying book, as each of the authors brings a unique perspective to the discussion and they are able to isolate, identify, and explain some of the more subtle aspects of a genre which, on the surface, seems all about gangsters and pretty girls who done somebody wrong. Other titles on the Shelf:Our TownJournalist Cynthia Carr's meditation on the 1930 lynching of two African-American men in Marion, Indiana, is a powerful exploration of racial issues brought to a personal level. While the picture that forms the centerpiece of her tale is a famous one, often seen in textbooks as a pictorial reflection of the racial violence lurking beneath the surface, it is also a personal one, as she often wondered whether her own grandfather happened to be there the night a crowd broke two young men out of jail and hung them from a tree in the courthouse square.The book tracks Carr's decade-long exploration of her family history and the events of that night as a microcosm of race in America. She conducted scores of interviews with as many of those she could find who might shed light on what happened and who orchestrated the lynching - something that everyone wanted to dismiss as somehow organic and unplanned and yet must have required some sort of spark, some sort of organization and complicity on multiple levels. She also explores contemporary race relations through interviews with a disparate group of current neo-Nazis, KKK members, and others. Infused with Carr's own quest to understand the grandfather she senses she didn't really know (and to discover, if she can, whether he might have been present, or participated, in the horrific crime captured forever on film), the narrative is powerful and evocative. At the same time, there is something unsatisfying about the book, but it is something that is undoubtedly inevitable: there is no closure.No closure for Carr, really, and no closure for the reader. The story of August 7, 1930, is not in fact frozen in time, and the memories, perceptions, and beliefs of everyone involved reflect the same truth as Kurasawa's Rashamon: each person remembers things differently, and each brings his or her own prejudices and perspectives to the "truth" of what they tell. Regardless, of course, Our Town remains a compelling narrative of Carr's personal odyssey through America's racial past. Her interviews with James Cameron, who was himself nearly lynched that night and miraculously survived, are certainly one of the highlights, as are her encounters in the wacky, wild underworld of contemporary "Kluxers." At one point, Carr mentions that a reconciliation expert observed that "truth does not bring back the dead but releases them from silence." Simply by writing this book, Carr demonstrates that there is a time to be silent no more.The Water RoomPublished last year in hardcover, Christopher Fowler's novel The Water Room has just recently been published in paperback. The book brings back the protagonists of Fowler's novel Full Dark House: Arthur Bryant and John May, arguably London's "oldest and crankiest detectives." As the leaders of Scotland Yard's Peculiar Crimes Unit, the two men are well past retirement age and yet find themselves still solving mysteries in whatever unconventional manner necessary.The sister of one of Bryant's friends is found dead in her basement, the friend asks Bryant to investigate. While the death seems unremarkable at first, the presence of river water in the woman's throat (in an otherwise dry basement, mind you), presents clear complications. She appears to have drowned - and yet no one can articulate exactly how that could have happened.When a young woman purchases the old woman's house on the recommendation of a neighbor, she hears odd sounds of water in the walls. The neighborhood - a pocket of old London - seems outwardly pleasant and yet each home seethes with unexpected mystery and tension.Meanwhile, an old flame of May's has asked him to investigate the rather suspicious activities of her husband, a historian who appears to be working for an unscrupulous businessman with an unspecified interest in underground rivers. Oddly enough, the two cases may have something to do with one another - and as other suspicious deaths start occurring, Bryant and May are left struggling to decipher the meaning behind the bizarre events.The book features an impressive array of fascinating characters, a clever plot, and a wonderful sense of history. Bryant and May are another bickering odd couple, but one that manages to avoid many of the clichés associated with the "buddy genre." Their relationship has a sense of authenticity (indeed, even of "age," as befits two men who have been working together, and enduring each other's foibles, for decades). Replete with a quirky wit that engages the imagination, The Water Room is an entertaining contemporary take on the "locked room" mysteries of old.Dark AssassinAnne Perry's latest novel to feature Victorian-era policeman William Monk is an engrossing, entertaining period mystery that envelopes readers in the dual worlds of 19th-century London. Newly appointed to his post as superintendent of the Thames River Police, Monk and a boat crew patrol the river one foggy night and happen to witness a young couple fall from a river into the icy water below. Despite the crew's efforts, all they can do is retrieve two corpses from the water. The question Monk keeps asking himself is whether it was an accident, an abortive suicide attempt, or something more sinister. After all, he had watched the couple engage in a heated discussion right before she put her hands on his shoulders, and he grabbed her. Was she trying to push him away? Was he trying to save her from falling over the edge, or was he pushing her?Monk's investigation leads not to an easy solution but rather to more puzzles. The young woman's name was Mary Havilland, and she was supposedly engaged to the young man, whose name was Toby Argyll. Mary's father had once worked for the Argyll Company as an engineer, but died recently under suspicious circumstances that were ultimately ruled a suicide. Mary refused to believe that her father would have done such a thing, and instead insisted that he had been murdered because of his concerns about the new city sewer system being constructed by the Argyll Company. Monk and his wife, Hester, venture from the elegant homes of the elite to the murky slums where the less fortunate eke out a meager existence in their efforts to understand what might have caused these three deaths. Soon, it appears Monk may well have uncovered a deadly conspiracy, and as he seeks an elusive assassin he enlists the aid of his former enemy Superintendent Runcorn. Together, they hope to decipher the true face of the killer before anyone else dies in the dangerous world beneath the city streets.Several components combine to make Perry's work memorable. In Monk she has created a complex character who still struggles with the loss of his memory as a result of a nearly fatal accident a number of years ago. The construction of his "new identity" from the ashes of the old still means that he must confront the relational damage he did on many fronts. His profession and the independence of his wife make for intriguing home dynamics as well. Perry also lavishes loving attention to the details of her historical setting, and deftly shapes the mood and tenor of the Victorian environment. The class distinctions and economic dichotomy of the period are articulately established, and Perry moves seamlessly from the murderous dives of the docks to intricate courtroom intrigue. The Ethical AssassinDavid Liss -- best known for his historical novels such as A Conspiracy of Paper and The Coffee Trader -- attempts to channel Elmore Leonard and Carl Hiaasen in his latest book, a manic South Florida caper that sees its young protagonist on the wrong side of a gang duplicitous drug dealers and their redneck sheriff enforcer. His only ally? The philosophy-spouting killer who got him in the mess in the first place. The story is set in the summer of 1985; from all appearances, just another hot, sticky Florida summer. Lem Altick is a 17-year-old encyclopedia salesman (clearly, the novel had to be set 20 years ago for this aspect to work: not many encyclopedia salesmen anymore, what with the advent of "the Internet"). He's going door-to-door trying to sell his overpriced sets of books in order to earn money for college so he can escape his current banal existence. He spends several hours with one couple trying to convince them to purchase a set of books, and has just sealed the deal when a killer walks in and shoots them both. Unfortunately, the killer hadn't counted on Lem. And since he regards himself as something of an ethical assassin who only kills in the context of a distinct moral code, the killer -- whose name is Melford Kean -- offers Lem a relatively simple deal. Stay quiet and nobody gets hurt. Make noise, or talk to the police - and, well, Lem will just have to take the fall.Lem has little choice but to take the deal. However, unbeknownst to either Lem or Melford, the couple he just killed have ties to a local drug syndicate. They're tied in with the local sheriff, a psycho redneck who enjoys treating his county like his personal fiefdom. And they're also connected, in a roundabout way, to drug-runners who use the encyclopedia sales operation as a front for their more lucrative business. Jim Doe, the sheriff, saw Lem near the trailer the night of the murder. While Doe has little reason to investigate the murder itself (and in fact works to cover that up), he does want to know what happened to the stash of cash that was hidden somewhere in the trailer. Meanwhile, Melford appears to have taken an interest in Lem, who he regards as in need of mentorship.It seems that Melford is something of an intellectual, a semi-Marxist with his own peculiar vision of the world. He regards himself not as a murderer but as a vengeful environmental activist. (Lem and Melford also end up in what might be characterized as the "obligatory" animal research laboratory.) Much against his will, Lem is about to embark upon an odyssey that will undoubtedly expand his mind - should he be fortunate enough to live so long.Liss' narrative is a bit uneven, and the transitions from Lem's first person account and the third person renditions of the exploits of the other characters are somewhat abrupt. At times, the effort to construct the absurdist world so artfully developed by Hiaasen or Leonard seems a touch forced. However, the characters of Lem and Melford are generally strong enough to fuel the story through those potholes; the two present an intriguing philosophical dichotomy. Melford is a fascinatingly elusive example of certainty in the midst of the existential amorality around him, and his beliefs clearly attract attention (including the attention of the lovely young woman who is the erstwhile enforcer for her drug-dealing boss - at least, until she meets Melford). All in all, The Ethical Assassin is an entertaining, frequently funny, mixture of a disparate crew of bottom feeders - and of ethics as well.

W.E. Wallo is a book and movie junkie whose writings have appeared in a variety of print and online publications.

Eclectic Bookshelf: Moonlit Metaphors

W.E. Wallo — Thu, 23 Mar 2006 18:56:24 EST

Clothes, the old saw goes, make the man (or the person). Books, perhaps, help make (or shape) the mind. In that regard, when it comes to choosing one's mental companions, it is often true that new books are easy to love. They're fresh-faced, pretty young things, with their whole life stretching out before them. To borrow from John Patrick Shanley, they're like moonlight in a martini: elusive, intriguing, and captivating. Old books, like the rich, are different; one need only spend a few hours in a used book store to realize that it may well take an act of the will to love the brittle pages and lifeless covers of ages past. Like many fellow travelers, I have loved and left many books of both varieties. I have purged my shelves of many former compatriots over the years, abandoning them to the care of the strangers at the local thrift store or the patrons of the occasional garage sale. I have also benefited greatly from the purges of others, be it the rare garage sale find, the worthy used item, or an outright gift. Years ago, I received a box of books: a virtually complete paperback set of the works of Edgar Rice Burroughs, along with a few other nuggets of early 20th-century science fiction (Buck Rogers in the 25th Century and the books of Otis Albert Kline, for example). The box also included a slew of military books, with subjects such as the battle of Stalingrad and the Flying Tigers. I loved those books. To be sure, Burroughs had a tendency to become repetitive, somewhat like the westerns of Louis L'Amour (and speaking as someone who will actually cop to having read every one of L'Amour's books except Bendigo Shafter, I believe I am a worthy witness to this truth). But Burroughs could also be quite entertaining; to this day I still remember Tarzan Triumphant, undoubtedly my favorite Tarzan novel, and The Mad King, which is one of those ubiquitous "I'm a king with a royal double I never knew about" stories that were probably less of a cliché a century ago than they are today. As for Kline - well, his take on the whole "let's have a guy go to another planet and become king of the aliens and beat up the evil overlords" genre was actually a load of fun, albeit somewhat derivative of Burroughs' more successful John Carter books (or Carson Napier of Venus, for that matter). Some books never quite leave your mind, let alone your possession. These books, these gifts, have traveled with me. They have been my companions across 20-plus years and countless miles; once in a box, left unopened for years, but now on a shelf, piled high and free, where I can visit them from time to time and return for a moment to those distant days when I explored those improbable alien lands for the first time. This is not always the way of it, of course. The dog-eared copy of Stephen R. Donaldson's Lord Foul's Bane, which I read some 15 or more times in high school, fell by the wayside somewhere in between there and here, between then and now. It is like that as well for the box of books now in the back of my car, waiting impatiently for their new home somewhere other than the cramped, overflowing confines of the bookcases I can't seem to keep tidy. Some purges, it seems, are inevitable. Yet one must assume there is still something of Thomas Covenant rattling about inside my head; perhaps there is also something of the countless other characters, from Jack Pumpkinhead and Princess Ozma to the Riddle-Master of Hed or Dickens' pernicious Pip, who have each occupied an occasional parcel of mental real estate. Oh, I still have my personal preferences, as do we all. Some old, some new. When I first read Jasper Fforde's The Eyre Affair, I marveled at the wit and creativity of his tale; likewise, when I read Joseph Heath and Andrew Potter's Nation of Rebels, I found their perceptions of popular culture quite striking. And yet with books I find I can indeed backtrack, revisiting old terrain with new eyes, be it Tolkien or Chandler or Hemingway: in each, there is that opportunity for a new revelation with each pass across the surface of the text. On the bookshelf, it seems, one can find both the newly discovered and the eternally relevant.Here are this week's reviews from a wildly disorganized bookshelf:Bright Boulevards, Bold DreamsDonald Bogle, the author of Dorothy Dandridge, is one of the nation's leading authorities on African Americans in film. His extensive knowledge and incisive writing is on display in Bright Boulevards, Bold Dreams: The Story of Black Hollywood. This immensely readable (as well as intermittently shocking, sad, entertaining, and poignant) history tracks some 60 years in the history of "Black Hollywood." Bogle interviewed a host of historical figures and documents how they carved a place for themselves in an industry that initially was not interested in them.As with the rest of the nation during much of the period covered by the book, Black Hollywood was a world set apart from what we typically think of the golden age of "Tinseltown." It possessed a distinct social structure all its own, as well as its own social scene and personalities. Bogle explores the lives of such people as Hattie McDaniel, Lena Horne, Sammy Davis, Jr., and many more. As he documents, from even its earliest days there was an African American presence in Hollywood that defied easy categorization, such as in the context of the relationship between the woman who called herself Madame Sul-Te-Wan and D.W. Griffith, the director whose masterwork was arguably the racist Birth of a Nation (some might look to Griffith's Intolerance to see an impressive early silent film in many technical respects, but it is for Birth of a Nation that he will undoubtedly forever be remembered).The book reflects a part of entertainment history that is often overlooked or lost to the mainstream. The narrative is masterful, both conversational and engaging while remaining always informative. Far from being a dry documentary on African American performances in front of the camera, the book documents the often-unseen world behind it: the nightclubs and social interaction, the gossip and the glamour. It is these human stories which give the book its heart, if not its soul as well.The Nymphos of Rocky FlatsVampires never seem to lose their cool. Whether it's Anne Rice, Joss Whedon, Wesley Snipes or Kate Beckinsale, there are constant efforts by the contemporary heirs of Bram Stoker to breathe new life into these ancient bloodsuckers. From Buffy to Blade, modern vampires and their hunters constantly escalate the blood and the violence, even as others play the genre for laughs (for example, George Harrison in Love at First Bite, or David Niven slumming in Vampira). In literary circles, the heavyweight in recent years has been Rice, although she is hardly alone. Most recently, vampires have been the latest to walk the mean streets popularized by Raymond Chandler, as writers such as Charlie Huston graphically transform their fanged protagonists into private detectives, in the process somehow fulfilling Chandler's directive that such characters manage to be the best to walk the darkened streets and alleys of the underbelly of America. Huston's book Already Dead, released earlier this year (and reviewed here), is a dark urban fable replete with intense, bloody violence. In contrast, Mario Acevedo's new novel, The Nymphos of Rocky Flats, is a literate, darkly humorous fusion of the vampire legend with Area 51, space aliens, and yes, nymphomania.Felix Gomez came back from Operation Iraq Freedom with his own unique disease syndrome. After a firefight in which he and other soldiers accidentally killed a family, including a young girl, he met an unusual form of retribution: a vampire who honors Gomez' request to be punished by bringing him into the eternal brotherhood of the undead. With the help of modern cosmetics, Felix is able to venture out during the day and simply chalk his appearance up to a "skin condition" he picked up in the Persian Gulf. However, his simultaneous aversion to drinking human blood is having an unintended side effect: his "vampire powers" are slowly eroding away. As the novel opens, his work as a private detective has caught the attention of an old acquaintance, who has invited him to the Rocky Flats Nuclear Weapons Plant in Colorado to help investigate a mysterious outbreak of nymphomania among some of the female employees. The guy can't seem to cut through the red tape to discover what sort of contaminants might have caused this bizarre outbreak - which is why he's willing to pay Felix $50,000 to uncover the truth. Since Felix is now up against some of the most lethal, nefarious enemies around (i.e., government operatives), he has to muster his flagging powers in order to find out what is behind all the "horny women" at the secretive facility. His investigation proves surprisingly difficult, impeded in part by the fact that every time he attempts his vampire hypnosis on one of the victims of the nymphomania, he runs into trouble. He has some assistance from local vampires and another mythical ally, but also another problem: vampire hunters from Eastern Europe who are bound and determined to take the stake to every available vampire. As he uncovers the improbable reality and Byzantine secret operations at the base, the evidence seems to suggest the truly impossible: that the most absurd, crackpot theories of UFOs and alien abductions may well have some basis in fact.Acevedo manages to take his campy plot and make the most of it, avoiding the easy exploitive angle and infusing more dark humor into the story than overt titillation. He seems determined to have a bit of fun in merging his horror with the hard-boiled detective genre. The plot seems a bit uneven at times and yet overall this campy retake on the vampire myth is oddly engaging.The Once and Future KingIn the entertaining BBC comedy series As Time Goes By, the crusty character played by Geoffrey Palmer decides to read some of the books he "thinks" he read as a child (such as The Tales of Winnie the Pooh). For me, T. H. White's seminal work of Arthurian lore was one such title: a book one dimly remembers "maybe" reading, but which one perhaps knows more "about" from other sources than the text itself.Late last year I picked up a copy of The Once and Future King at Borders. It is indeed a delightful book, a fanciful retelling of the Arthurian legends most of us think we know so well. While the opening portion of the book was indeed lifted to create Disney's The Sword in the Stone (an uneven, and relatively unremarkable Disney animated flick), the book really hits its stride once the young "Wart" draws the enchanted sword from the stone, forever changing his life - and England as well. From Merlin, the wise sage who lives his life backward to the "ill made knight" Lancelot, White's book is simply a fantastic recasting of the myth of Camelot in distinctly human terms.After ElizabethYes, more history. This time, we go back a couple more centuries with Leanda de Lisle for her engaging snapshot of the transition between Elizabeth I of England and James, her most unwelcome successor as the lord of the fair realm called England. The book does not ignore the early years of her reign (which were justifiably some of the most heady years enjoyed by any monarch), but instead chooses to cast a critical eye at a period often ignored by historians: the end of the affair.The last years of Elizabeth's reign were troubled. Far from being the solid, dependable monarch often depicted in film, at the end of her life Elizabeth was but a shadow of her former self. In poor health and with her mental faculties arguably diminishing, she brooked little opposition and remained excessively insistent upon ignoring the realities of the moment. She refused to make provision for an heir of any sort, leaving the door open to conflict over her successor; this was especially true as there were a number of possible claimants who each had some claim to the throne.The transition to James -- which many historians have regarded as essentially bloodless -- was far from assured at the time. Instead, as de Lisle documents, Elizabeth's court was a seething hotbed of turmoil, possible treason, and striving for personal advancement. James was regarded with suspicion by many who distrusted or despised his Scottish roots, and when he failed to keep many of his promises upon obtaining the throne there were many, both Catholic and Protestant, who conspired against him. De Lisle does a wonderful job of describing the often dissolute cast of characters who sought to shape or subvert the English monarchy to their own ends, as well as casting a modern eye upon the social institutions of 17th century England. By narrowing the lens of her focus to this brief moment in time, she is able to carefully explore the palace conspiracies and intrigues which shaped the transition from the England of Henry VIII and Elizabeth to that of the House of Stuart. It is well-written and compelling; a fascinating freeze-frame of history.A Hole in JuanDespite the play on words, the Juan in Gillian Roberts' latest Amanda Pepper mystery doesn't actually end up perforated with bullet holes. Nonetheless, one does have to wonder why anyone in Philadelphia would pay to send their kids to the private school where Amanda teaches, given the number of rather brutal mysteries she has had to solve involving students or faculty of the institution. This latest episode is no exception.Halloween is only a few days away, as is the school's annual "Mischief Night" party. Normally, the school escapes with a few incidents of minor vandalism and other pranks. This year, however, an ominous sense of doom hangs over the school, much of it centering around a new science teacher, whom many of the students seem to regard as some sort of evil classroom dictator. At first the incidents seem relatively harmless: somebody decides to summon the fire department during a test. Then all the orange and black paint disappears from the art room, and the mustard packets vanish from the school cafeteria. The stakes rise, however, when chemicals and equipment disappear from the science lab and Amanda discovers that one of her exam keys and her attendance book are both missing. To make matters worse, the science teacher, Juan Reyes, receives what might well be a death threat in the form of a letter referencing an incident about a teacher killed by students.Amanda's life is already hectic enough as she's trying to balance her professional obligation to the school while spending the rest of her time working as a private investigator with her husband. Not to mention the rather inconvenient presence of her husband's nephew, a 16-year-old high school dropout who has crashed at their place for the foreseeable future. Now she has to investigate her own students - including a popular group of seniors who may be at the crux of the recent shenanigans.When an explosion in the science lab critically injures Reyes, Amanda must pursue her fear that some of the students were involved. When she receives a warning that there is more to come, she knows that she must identify the perpetrators and stop them before their next prank proves fatal. Roberts' novels are breezy, entertaining fun. There's not a lot of over-the-top gore or violence; instead, the story is understated and almost elegant in its straightforward puzzles. Amanda's relationships with both her husband and the husband's nephew breathe as if real, and embody a gentle wit and relational experience. While not an exceptional mystery in a plot sense, A Hole in Juan is a well-crafted tale of an amateur sleuth and the schoolyard trouble she's forced to solve on her own. The Templar LegacySteve Berry's latest novel might well be characterized by many as a riff on the same themes articulated in Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code. In it, Cotton Malone, a former government operative, is contacted by his former supervisor, who is also the widow of a researcher who had spent his life investigating the ancient medieval order of the Knights Templar. The researcher apparently committed suicide under mysterious circumstances. Somewhat against his will, Cotton is drawn into an investigation that seemingly leads toward the "lost" treasure, who were forcibly disbanded by the king of France in the 14th century. Combining a love of arcane documents, dead languages, and cryptic puzzles, Berry's narrative is entertaining if not always plausible. Malone quickly discovers that there are other players hot on the trail of the treasure, many of whom aren't interested in playing nice or sharing their toys. And the frequent discussion of Gnostic theology will undoubtedly tip many readers to the reality that the Templar treasure may involve more than just a cache of gold and precious jewels: there is a secret here as well, a secret that might well reverberate throughout contemporary Christendom. (full review)

W.E. Wallo is a book and movie junkie whose writings have appeared in a variety of print and online publications.

Magical Words, Megalomanical Jedi Masters, and a Mercedes-Benz

W.E. Wallo — Sat, 4 Mar 2006 11:11:56 EST

In the captivity of the local Borders or even at the library, bookshelves are carefully segregated, their contents painstakingly maintained by reference to title, genre, category, or Dewey Decimal number. Even in the private realm of individual homes, there are some bookshelves which must suffer the ultimate ignominy: to have their innocent dependants organized by height, width, or color; or to see otherwise worthy entrants discarded because the cover is ugly or because the book simply doesn't "fit" either the shelf or the general decor of the room.But in the wild it is a different story. Left to their own devices, the contents of bookshelves frequently migrate from place to place, cross-pollinating discourse and unexpectedly piquing the interest of passers-by. They become haphazard mounds of literate thought, with Dashiell Hammett nestling comfortably beside Will Shakespeare and both face-to-face with the latest issue of Spiderman and Homer's Iliad. Raymond Chandler walks the mean streets not just with James Lee Burke but Neil Gaiman, Patricia McKillip or even James Frey. Jane Austen hangs with Mickey Spillane and Chaucer and Beowulf are checking out the latest Anne Rice. Here, Victor Davis Hanson lectures on the enduring legacy of the Peloponnesian War and a host of historians document everything from the vivid history of the color red to the spices that undoubtedly launched more than a thousand ships and certainly sent Columbus westward. The old and the new wrestle playfully together, and the sterile confines of genre or category are happily left behind, to the tender mercies of those who find meaning not within the pages of the book but rather by the bookstore section in which it is found.There are many who have recommended that new books ought to be read alongside the old; that it is far better to mix-and-match one's literary pursuits than to simply look for the latest entrants onto the "New Books" rack or to limit oneself to the confines of a particular genre. The Eclectic Bookshelf is intended as an homage to those wild, untamed bookshelves that seek less to categorize and more to enjoy whatever may be placed, accidentally or otherwise, within, atop, or beside them. Here, then, are the inaugural reviews from a wildly disorganized bookshelf.Alan Moore Spells It OutThe big-screen version of Alan Moore's V for Vendetta opens soon. While it may yet prove to be simply the latest in the uneven cinematic realizations of Moore's quixotic genius (one need look no further than the miasma which was The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen for undoubtedly the worst example), that fact has little to do with Moore himself. Unfortunately, he has had remarkably little creative control over the films based on his work; certainly he has had nothing akin to the remarkable relationship between Moore's comic book contemporary, Frank Miller, and director Robert Rodriguez, who stunningly transformed Miller's Sin City to the screen.In Alan Moore Spells it Out, interviewer Bill Baker and Moore embark upon a wide-ranging discussion of creativity, comics, and much more. The slender volume (80 pages) features a few black and white illustrations but is essentially just a question and answer session with Moore, inarguably one of the most intriguing figures in the comic book industry over the past quarter-century.From the opening discussion about the power of words, in which Moore discusses language as "the primal technology," to his suggestion that writers ought to write song lyrics just to see how "your mind does different things when you're writing a song," to his initial horror at abandoning thought balloons for Vendetta, there are a host of incisive, insightful observations to be found. While the book's format sticks to the basic Q&A motif that can quickly become a bit dull, by and large Moore's stream of consciousness discussion is worth the price of admission.Requiem for New OrleansMike Sharpe, author of Thou Shalt Not Kill Unless Otherwise Instructed, returns with Requiem for New Orleans, a new book of poetry which tracks the destruction of the city. As he writes, "New Orleans was not destroyed by a hurricane but by abandonment." Some may find poems such "Katrina," in which Sharpe speaks to the President of the United States about "the rotting corpses and the living dead," to lack poetic subtlety, while others may find additional meaning in its open veins of emotion. Regardless, the volume's lasting power may well be found in poems such as "New Orleans, Where Do You Come From," which drives home the enduring diversity of this tempestuous city (and which reminds one, if only imperfectly, of Carl Sandburg's "Chicago"): I come from the Mississippi. I come from barges and ships. I come from cargo. Grain, cotton, oil, tobacco. Timber and steel. I come from revelers and gamblers and crooks. From whores and pirates and slaves. I come from corruption and sin and graft. I come from musicians, artists, writers, longshoremen, sailors, and oilmen. Lawyers and clergymen too. Bartenders, hotel keepers, and restaurateurs. From women working all kinds of places behind the scenes. I come from the upscale and the lowdown. I come from master man and slave woman. I am Mardi Gras parades. And blues. I am jazz. With a mixture of angst and anger reflected in its poetry, snippets of song, sound bites and Biblical allusions, Requiem for New Orleans is both a raw meditation and a hunt for meaning in the midst of catastrophic tragedy.Outbound FlightThe overwhelming majority of the Star Wars books out there, much like those published in connection with the various incarnations of Star Trek or other such collections, are usually quickly cobbled together and rarely very good. Timothy Zahn's Outbound Flight is that rare exception: a Star Wars book that can actually be enjoyed by someone who doesn't look forward to spending their nights and weekends dressed up as C3P0. Set in between the action of the first two prequel films, and featuring a plot and dialogue far superior to either of them, the novel tracks a failed expedition from the old Republic into "unknown space." There, the Republic colonists and their Jedi leaders face the alien known as Thrawn, a character first introduced in Zahn's own Heir to the Empire books more than a decade ago. Thrawn, a brilliant but brutal military tactician, is here shown in a somewhat more sympathetic light, as he faces off against not only a violent race of interstellar nomads but the increasingly erratic and megalomanical Jedi Master in charge of the expeditionary force. (Full review)Navigating the Golden CompassWith the phenomenal success of adaptations of Lord of the Rings, the Harry Potter books, and most recently the first installment of The Chronicles of Narnia, there should be little surprise that filmmakers continue to cast about for literate fantasy that might likewise make the transition to the "big screen." Next year should see the unveiling of the film version of The Golden Compass, the first book in Phillip Pullman's "His Dark Materials" series. Pullman's works, while overshadowed to a certain extent by Harry Potter, have nonetheless been very successful in their own right. And as Pullman has, from time to time, been rather critical of C.S. Lewis, it is rather intriguing to explore the foundations of the Dark Materials books in the wake of the successful adaptation of the first book in Lewis' Narnia series.That is where the recently published book Navigating the Golden Compass comes in. Edited by Glenn Yeffeth, the book is a series of essays exploring different aspects of Pullman's writings. The contributors are a diverse group with a background in philosophy, theology, science fiction, and children's literature. Like the best of "children's" literature, Pullman's works have the ability to appeal to those both young and old. And much like Lewis, in fact, The Golden Compass and its sequels allow Pullman to confront the "big questions" of life and offer his own answers by way of a carefully crafted imaginary world with its own unique set of rules. The authors here explore the philosophical implications and theological ramifications of Pullman's work in an evenhanded and intriguing way. Mercedes-BenzFrom Polish author Pawel Huelle comes Mercedes-Benz, an oddly mesmerizing fact-based kaleidoscope of past, present, and future, all wrapped around the love of the road and the mystery of driving. Pawel, the narrator of the book, is an admirer of the late Bohumil Hrabal, a Czech writer. Written as something of an off-the-cuff conversation with Hrabal, Pawel describes a series of driving lessons taken under the instruction of the enigmatic Miss Ciwle in the early 1990s. Pawel regales Miss Ciwle with tales of both his parents and his grandparents (and the Mercedes-Benz cars that featured prominently in the lives of each generation). At turns poignantly humorous and heartbreaking, Pawel's stories mirror the revelations of Miss Ciwle's own life and Pawel's ultimate sense of loss and displacement in the transformed landscape of the modern world. In the process, Huelle manages to gently illustrate and contrast the freedom of Poland's independence with its communist subjugation and the still uncertain, unsteady future unfolding before it now. It is a touching story, elegantly and passionately told (and well-translated to boot by Antonia Lloyd-Jones).Bleak HouseOn the heels of the completion of the Masterpiece Theater adaptation of the Charles Dickens classic, I have decided to finally take the plunge. Shrugging off the lingering memories associated with early dalliances with Great Expectations and A Tale of Two Cities, I have embarked upon a journey through the dense, thorny prose of Victorian England. Often the ham-fisted social commentator, Dickens nonetheless managed to create many enduring narratives and is largely responsible for our impressions of the dark side of the London of his day: an age of intense social stratification, class tension, and debtor's prisons. The stunningly crafted BBC version of Dickens' tale of a Byzantine lawsuit that sucks the life from its players has seduced me into exploring how close the adaptation mirrored the original, which I have never read. So far, so good: while the teleplay obviously streamlined the tale for broadcast, many essentials remain true to form. Despite the dense descriptive passages that bog down the narrative (at least in our post-Hemingway age), Dickens is indeed a master of melodrama, and manages to artfully weave together a complex tale of both hope and despair.Next time: More mixing and matching of whatever is on the shelf.

W.E. Wallo is a book and movie junkie whose writings have appeared in a variety of print and online publications.