Notes on Four Books - Blackout Episode
Okay, A few notes on the books I've read because I've had lot of time on my hands with no electricity and time which I've been trying to avoid provoking a fight with Mel. The less said about that, the better. So, here's what I've got...
I started and just finished William Gibson's Spook Country, which I spent perhaps too much time trying to figure out rather than just enjoying. Trying to figure out which narrative was the "main" one, along with which character(s) was/were the main character(s). Also, trying to figure out what Gibson was trying to do with the plot, and the devices he was using. Where was he going with all of this, or was there some massive red herring involved that I was getting suckered into? The three narrative threads come together toward the end, of course, some more satisfyingly than the others. The Milgrim/Brown thread was perhaps the most troublesome, mostly because it sort of played out like comic relief more than actual narrative tension. In fact, it felt more like a goofy buddy cop story idea that Gibson came up with (Crazy Government Spook partnered with Anti-Anxiety Drug Junkie Russian-Interpreter - crazy!!) that was dropped into the novel because it might not have lived anywhere else. Not that it was poorly executed when encapsulated to itself. Brown came off so remarkably, conservatively sociopathic even though he probably had less than a dozen lines in the novel. You learn much about him through Milgrim's observations. That's great, good work there. Could the novel done without them? Yeah, probably.
Other books, recently: Sergei Lukyanenko's Night Watch, which I picked up on the cheap a few weeks back. Not bad, fairly straightforward. I'd recommend it because it's good to see where contemporary fantasy is pursued outside of American and Western European (i.e. British) society. If you've seen the two movies this book inspired (Night Watch and Day Watch), you've pretty much read this book - although the movies sort of play around with context and rewire some of the character motivations and such. I sort of felt that the movies distilled the mood and gameness of the novel (which is broken up into three sections, essentially three novellas), but the novel obviously will have to stand on its own. I'm curious about the follow up, as the novellas of Night Watch sort of had a narrative pattern which was repeated in each (Anton stumbles on plot, Anton stumbles around angsting over being a crappy Other or being fistfucked by fate, Anton needs to man up and do something or all hell will break loose, Anton snaps out of his funk to actually use his analytical brain to figure out what's going on, Zabulon breaks out his monster cack, It's Over FOUR THOUUUUUSAND!, or wait, not. Cake.)
Actually, I make that sound worse than it is. Really, Anton's angsting isn't labourious. I mean, he is sort of a second-rate Other, or at least that's what everyone says. And the third story, which is mostly just ruminating and very little (FOUR THOUUUUSAAAAAND!) action, it really doesn't get on your nerves because what they are talking about his ethics and magic (which is pretty interesting to me, at least).
Anyway, I moved on from that to Warren Ellis' Crooked Little Vein. Oh, Warren. Warren, Warren, Warren.
Seriously? You wanted to publish this? I mean, not as a goof?
Four to six issue limited series, on the outside. Maybe less. And it would have been fairly forgettable.
For those interested, or familiar with Ellis' work: this is pretty much a novella-length lampoon (of what, I'm not entirely certain) detective story in which our protagonist (who is certainly not some kind of ersatz Spider Jerusalem, not at all) criss-crosses America looking for some MacGuffin while encountering bizarre ludicrous sex practices and brain-damaged political figures who chew scenery like the Goat of Mendes. The frustrating thing about it is that I'm fairly certain all of the deviant sex and sex-industry related episodes are factually based. It's all crazy enough to be true.
Ellis' thrust of the tale appears to be trying to make a comment about underground, counter-culture versus mainstream conventional culture. The question being: how available, how populous, how popular, how diverse, how broadly-distributed must something singularly unusual be in order for it to be considered mainstream and normalized? Ellis doesn't really attempt to answer the question, settling to basically place those questions into the mouths of the minor characters our protagonist encounters. There's something flawed in the logic, I think, but I'm not much of a logician, so I can't say. I will say that Ellis almost, almost, makes a direct hit in pointing out that all this deviancy can still be considered such in reference to the vast, vast, majority of the American populace who are remarkably socially, politically, sexually, and in all other ways, conservative and boring as toast. He almost goes there, legitimizing what most people consider to be mainstream American culture (well, legitimizing by acknowledging its hegemony)....and then he goes for a cheap buttplug joke.
Warren...why?
The story reads quickly and holds few surprises plot-wise, although the protagonists are engaging enough to make you a bit tense as to whether their emotional plotlines are resolved. The antagonists are ridiculous parodies, and provide little to no satisfaction other than foils for McGill's incredulity. The most satisfying moment of the novel, in my opinion, was the catharsis resulting from McGill's loss of patience with these freaks and the resulting violence.
Now, let me say this. I have used a lot of pejorative language in this little review, and it is partially intentional. The novel makes sort of a point of painting the people and scenes that McGill encounters as being deviant, freakish, and outlandishly strange. It is in that context I mention the people in these cultures as "freaks" or "deviants", which is only descriptive in relation to where the vast majority of American Culture resides at this point. It should not be construed as some prejudice on my part, although I don't happen to share their interests (I am not a MHP, I don't support any oppression or persecution of MHPs, but I am certainly not planning on intentionally joining any "movie nights" with them, thankyamuch). All this to say, don't send me notes telling me I'm a bigot or racist or homophobic. I'm none of those things, I'm just talking about how a book represented certain cultural scenes and alleged practices. Whatever.
Presently, I'm reading through Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policeman's Union. It's a bit too early to say whether I'm enjoying it, but that could be because of other tension going on in my life. In any case, I must get back to work and I'll talk to you later.
-12th.
I started and just finished William Gibson's Spook Country, which I spent perhaps too much time trying to figure out rather than just enjoying. Trying to figure out which narrative was the "main" one, along with which character(s) was/were the main character(s). Also, trying to figure out what Gibson was trying to do with the plot, and the devices he was using. Where was he going with all of this, or was there some massive red herring involved that I was getting suckered into? The three narrative threads come together toward the end, of course, some more satisfyingly than the others. The Milgrim/Brown thread was perhaps the most troublesome, mostly because it sort of played out like comic relief more than actual narrative tension. In fact, it felt more like a goofy buddy cop story idea that Gibson came up with (Crazy Government Spook partnered with Anti-Anxiety Drug Junkie Russian-Interpreter - crazy!!) that was dropped into the novel because it might not have lived anywhere else. Not that it was poorly executed when encapsulated to itself. Brown came off so remarkably, conservatively sociopathic even though he probably had less than a dozen lines in the novel. You learn much about him through Milgrim's observations. That's great, good work there. Could the novel done without them? Yeah, probably.
Other books, recently: Sergei Lukyanenko's Night Watch, which I picked up on the cheap a few weeks back. Not bad, fairly straightforward. I'd recommend it because it's good to see where contemporary fantasy is pursued outside of American and Western European (i.e. British) society. If you've seen the two movies this book inspired (Night Watch and Day Watch), you've pretty much read this book - although the movies sort of play around with context and rewire some of the character motivations and such. I sort of felt that the movies distilled the mood and gameness of the novel (which is broken up into three sections, essentially three novellas), but the novel obviously will have to stand on its own. I'm curious about the follow up, as the novellas of Night Watch sort of had a narrative pattern which was repeated in each (Anton stumbles on plot, Anton stumbles around angsting over being a crappy Other or being fistfucked by fate, Anton needs to man up and do something or all hell will break loose, Anton snaps out of his funk to actually use his analytical brain to figure out what's going on, Zabulon breaks out his monster cack, It's Over FOUR THOUUUUUSAND!, or wait, not. Cake.)
Actually, I make that sound worse than it is. Really, Anton's angsting isn't labourious. I mean, he is sort of a second-rate Other, or at least that's what everyone says. And the third story, which is mostly just ruminating and very little (FOUR THOUUUUSAAAAAND!) action, it really doesn't get on your nerves because what they are talking about his ethics and magic (which is pretty interesting to me, at least).
Anyway, I moved on from that to Warren Ellis' Crooked Little Vein. Oh, Warren. Warren, Warren, Warren.
Seriously? You wanted to publish this? I mean, not as a goof?
Four to six issue limited series, on the outside. Maybe less. And it would have been fairly forgettable.
For those interested, or familiar with Ellis' work: this is pretty much a novella-length lampoon (of what, I'm not entirely certain) detective story in which our protagonist (who is certainly not some kind of ersatz Spider Jerusalem, not at all) criss-crosses America looking for some MacGuffin while encountering bizarre ludicrous sex practices and brain-damaged political figures who chew scenery like the Goat of Mendes. The frustrating thing about it is that I'm fairly certain all of the deviant sex and sex-industry related episodes are factually based. It's all crazy enough to be true.
Ellis' thrust of the tale appears to be trying to make a comment about underground, counter-culture versus mainstream conventional culture. The question being: how available, how populous, how popular, how diverse, how broadly-distributed must something singularly unusual be in order for it to be considered mainstream and normalized? Ellis doesn't really attempt to answer the question, settling to basically place those questions into the mouths of the minor characters our protagonist encounters. There's something flawed in the logic, I think, but I'm not much of a logician, so I can't say. I will say that Ellis almost, almost, makes a direct hit in pointing out that all this deviancy can still be considered such in reference to the vast, vast, majority of the American populace who are remarkably socially, politically, sexually, and in all other ways, conservative and boring as toast. He almost goes there, legitimizing what most people consider to be mainstream American culture (well, legitimizing by acknowledging its hegemony)....and then he goes for a cheap buttplug joke.
Warren...why?
The story reads quickly and holds few surprises plot-wise, although the protagonists are engaging enough to make you a bit tense as to whether their emotional plotlines are resolved. The antagonists are ridiculous parodies, and provide little to no satisfaction other than foils for McGill's incredulity. The most satisfying moment of the novel, in my opinion, was the catharsis resulting from McGill's loss of patience with these freaks and the resulting violence.
Now, let me say this. I have used a lot of pejorative language in this little review, and it is partially intentional. The novel makes sort of a point of painting the people and scenes that McGill encounters as being deviant, freakish, and outlandishly strange. It is in that context I mention the people in these cultures as "freaks" or "deviants", which is only descriptive in relation to where the vast majority of American Culture resides at this point. It should not be construed as some prejudice on my part, although I don't happen to share their interests (I am not a MHP, I don't support any oppression or persecution of MHPs, but I am certainly not planning on intentionally joining any "movie nights" with them, thankyamuch). All this to say, don't send me notes telling me I'm a bigot or racist or homophobic. I'm none of those things, I'm just talking about how a book represented certain cultural scenes and alleged practices. Whatever.
Presently, I'm reading through Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policeman's Union. It's a bit too early to say whether I'm enjoying it, but that could be because of other tension going on in my life. In any case, I must get back to work and I'll talk to you later.
-12th.