Resolution. Robert Jordan was a master of creating narratives and interweaving them to create a world where major characters can effect one another in major ways without ever even having met, but with all of these intricate story lines resolution of the major plot points has been long in coming. But it is here. Brandon Sanderson, writing for the now deceased Jordan, answers questions that have been plaguing readers for four or five books now. In this penultimate novel, true identities are revealed, characters come to realizations about themselves and their cultures, and major moves are made that will plunge the world into chaos as the last battle approaches.

Here's a heads up on what the major characters are up to. Rand, fresh from his life changing revelation at the end of the previous novel, sets about trying to put right the world that he has torn asunder, while also keeping an eye on his upcoming confrontation at Shayol Ghul. Perrin and Faile are still stuck herding an army and a group of refugees toward safety, but soon they cross paths with a group of whitecloaks. The confrontation will lead both parties in a direction they never imagined possible. Mat is once again in Camelyn, but he is less than thrilled when he discovers a bounty has been placed on his head. While dodging assassins, Mat also has to deal with the sinister gholam. Thom, Mat and Noal all still have a difficult task ahead of them, the rescue of Moiraine Damodred from the Eelfinn and Aelfinn. Aviendha completes her training to become a Wise One, but is disturbed by new revelations concerning the fate of the Aiel. Egwene is struggling to piece the White Tower back together, a task made more difficult by the knowledge that among the Aes Sedai lurks one of the Forsaken. Woven throughout the novel is an account of Lan's journey toward Tarwin's Gap and a battle which he cannot hope to win.

All over the world plans are in motion, and no one knows who will survive the coming conflict. Many questions will be answered in this novel, but still more are left to be resolved in the fourteenth and final installment of the WOT series. Look for the final book A Memory of Light in the fall of 2011.

After listening to the first two CD's of this audiobook, I found I simply had no motivation to continue. The problem I had with this book, I have come to believe, is the writing style. Usually audiobooks make up for a lot of sins in terms of writing style because the actors can change intonation for emphasis and clarity. Occasionally an audiobook narrator can affect my feelings on a books, but no complaints about the audiobook actress on this one. This book had an essential disconnect with my reading affinities.

The first issue is the fact that it's written in present tense narration. Now, present tense itself is not a fundamental deal-breaker. But the present tense gives story-telling a more fluid, immediate quality. It lends itself well to faster paced story-telling as it gives the reader a sense that the story is happening right now up to the minute. The downside is that present tense narration loses a sense of the concrete, a grounded feeling that past tense (the much more frequently used narration style in fiction) storytelling gives.

The second issue is that Moning's narrative style hinges predominantly on internal monologue. There are bits of action and dialog sprinkled throughout the internal monologue, but these are few and far between and told in such an internal monologue style that it's easy to get lost. Most of all, I feel these first few chapters I read lacked a concrete sense of scene. The quick return to internal monologue after any snatch of concrete scene development made this story hard to follow; this problem is exacerbated by the use of present tense narration. The lack of definitive scene creation and the more fluid sensation of the present tense narration made this story too ethereal for me. There was nothing to grab hold of in terms of scene or character interaction, and the story kept losing my attention until finally, I stopped reading.

This story turns out to be a calculated departure from the "literary fiction" of his existing canon. For those of you who may not be familiar with the lingo from within university writing programs, "literary fiction" is a term reserved for the work of writers striving to create serious art, whereas "genre fiction" of "commercial fiction" is the derivative and formulaic claptrap written for the mindless public... in other words, science fiction, fantasy, mystery, romance, adventure, etc. You know, all the books we enjoy reading. After all, books with swords, sorcery, space travel, other planets, etc. can't possibly be serious art. But I digress.

It turns out Chabon is similarly skeptical about this artificial division between the literary and the "not so literary." In his afterword to this novel, he discusses his desire to write a rousing tale in the tradition of adventure fiction. I certainly applaud his motivation and his effort. That's why I read and write fantasy. However, while I admire what Chabon was trying to do, to break free of the constraints of his literary background for a rip-roaring adventure novel, I think he only partially succeeded.

Old habits are hard to break, and I think Chabon brings a lot of his literary breeding into this novel, and that is in places good and bad. I generally do prefer an economical writing style, and his is crisp and clear with strong verbs and nouns. However, in his effort to be elaborate in his writing, perhaps to hearken back to the florid prose of genre forebears, the vocabulary ends up being a little too dense. I, of all people, plead guilty to using too many million dollar words, but with so many vivid words in so economical a style, I felt like the audiobook narrator barely had time to breath, let alone the reader. Chabon's economical literary styles comes into play with his use of plot elements, as well, including characterization and world-building. The problem is that in literary fiction, one can pay very close attention to character and plot without necessarily worrying about world-building. Since literary fiction is often set in the contemporary world, the writer can do double duty with many plot details, evoking what the reader already knows about modern life or recent history to set a scene while with the same detail developing character or scene. For this reason historical fiction writers and fantasy fiction writers typically have to spend more time separately on both. In this way, pacing has become a very important part of the genre. Don't get me wrong, it is a delicate balance, and many genre writers do go over the edge with too much description and too meandering a path on their way to the plot, but I feel Chabon has erred in a different direction. This book seems simply too short to me for a proper adventure tale. Part of getting into the other-worldly setting of a historical or fantasy adventure is spending time with it. A large part of what the reader enjoys is spending time with the characters, spending time in the world, watching the characters interact, feeling the wonder or hardships of the setting. Chabon's economical style may work well for literary fiction, but I felt like the time we spent within his story was just to brief to get absorbed by the world and the characters.  

I found this novel to be too suffuse with the author's literary writing habits to be as rip-roaring as I would have hoped. Certainly a worthwhile read, though, and since it is so short, most adventure/fantasy readers should be able to fit it easily into their reading lists.

Many of us reviewers here on ARWZ are fiction writers ourselves, and so we know that one of the necessities of good storytelling is to keep the readers' interest, to create a sense of urgency so that the reader feels driven to find out what happens next. 

Unfortunately, even this fundamental element of storytelling is difficult to achieve. Crafting a compelling story is the first challenge, of course, but the writer must also avoid pitfalls and roadblocks, ill-conceived storytelling decisions that get in the way of revealing the story to readers in a way that will inspire them to continue. Of course, some stories inspire certain people to read voraciously, while other readers just don't get the appeal. Oftentimes it is primarily a matter of taste whether we continue with a story or toss it back to the book pile unfinished.

Here at ARWZ, we pick up a lot of books in the course of our reading adventures, but not all of them make it to the website as review subjects. Some stories lose our interest or turn us off. It is, of course, not good policy for a writer to review a book that he or she hasn't finished reading, and yet, we find ourselves fascinated by the perils of fiction. What makes us stop reading a book? What confluence of circumstances results in our giving up on a book forevermore? 

Those are the questions this column seeks to answer. In this column, our regular reviewers will have license to tell you about what makes them stop reading. You will find out what books we attempted to read and why they lost our interest. We'll tell you which ones lost us right away, and which ones we put in an earnest effort to finish before finally giving up.

In fact, this novel attempts, not only to unite the two parts of the Ender series, previously separated by the gulf of Ender's untold young adulthood, but also to draw the story of Bean, which plays out in the Shadow series, into the narrative of Ender's life. As one might expect, then, this novel is a story of loose ends, resulting in a somewhat meandering plot structure. It takes Ender from the battle school barracks after the war, to his appointment as governor of the first human colony where he finds the last hive queen, to a confrontation with Bean's misguided biological son. Of course, because of relativistic space travel, this novel takes Ender far enough forward in time to outlive his brother and parents (but not Valentine, who is along for the ride).

This novel is certainly entertaining the the fashion Card fans have learned to expect. It doesn't really form a cohesive story; it reads more like a telling of smaller episodes. The novel may have seemed more cohesive if Card had stuck to Ender's point of view. As it is, point of view characters include Ender's parents, a colony biologist, two Italian colonists, among others. These points of view are not consistently sprinkled throughout the story, and seem to pop in at Card's convenience. It's Card writing here, so these forays into new characters and story lines are well-written and interesting. As a result, though, I would say that this novel is most certainly pitched toward dedicated Card readers and wouldn't serve a new reader well, or even as a direct sequel to someone who has only read Ender. Most of the intrigue of these books relies upon a prior familiarity with Card's characters and story-lines.

Lover Avenged

This book, as with the previous one I read, is a hybrid of action/fantasy genre and romance genre storytelling. On the action/fantasy side of things, we have street-fighting and vampirism, multiple viewpoint characters and intertwining story-lines, hidden identities and the secret powers that come with them. On the romance side of things you have, not one, but two story-lines where couples wrestle with misunderstandings and doubt to discover their attraction and eventual love for each other. These characters might be sporting body-piercings and mohawks, rather than bodices and surcoats, but these are still textbook examples of romance genre stories.

I can tolerate romance in small doses, and the mixing of romance with fantasy improves my capacity for tolerance, since there are other story-lines with meatier plot issues to dilute the romance. The trouble I had with this book was the length. I'm tempted to say that it's a pacing issue, but I also think that it may be simply a matter of tackling too many stories in one book. If Ward had kept to the Rehvenge/Ehlena romance and the Wrath storyline, it would have been enough. As it was, all the other story-lines kept things going a bit too long for me and I got tired and impatient as the book wore on. Perhaps this book is simply the consequence of having too many threads leftover from previous novels, and so perhaps dedicated fans would not find the fleshing out of these stories tiresome. But as a sometime reader, I found that the book lagged toward the end.

This average fantasy reader will likely find this book mildly entertaining; it is probably more palatable to romance enthusiasts.

Melting Stones

For anyone who does not read Pierce’s work regularly, there are two different realities, or universes, in which she usually writes. The first is the Tortall universe, which includes her first series, Song of The Lioness, and usually involves characters who are at least marginally involved with the main character from those books. It is geared toward older readers, teens and young adults.

The Circle of Magic books, however, are geared toward younger readers, and this is the universe that Melting Stones belongs to. This collection includes the books from Circle of Magic, and Circle Opens, as well as stand alone books like The Will of The Empress, and Melting Stones. I mention these other books because they are the stories of Evy’s teacher and first friend, Briar Moss, as well as her guardian Dedicate Rosethorn. They are also all good reads.

In Melting Stones, Pierce has taken the opportunity to create a character unlike any other she has ever written. Most of her main characters, particularly the young girls, are driven people, ready and eager to go out in to the world and do something great. They are all hungry for knowledge, and skills, and willing to listen to their beloved teachers because they provide these things that they need so desperately. Evy is different.

Evy was a hungry street child when Briar saved her in Street Magic. She isn’t yet so far away from the streets that she’s forgotten what it was to be hungry and alone. She also went through a war with Briar and Rosethorn, a war that has only been made mention of, though a book about the events has been promised. After this sort of life, Evy is understandably falling out of love with Mankind in general. She is attached to Rosethorn, because Rosethorn shows her love in her own crotchety sort of way. But even Briar she has reservations about, because he left her alone to go "adventuring," as she sees it (Though in truth he’s off risking his life with his sisters. You can read about that in The Will of The Empress). And so, unlike many of Pierce’s characters, Evy is mostly out for number one. Until, that is, she sees what kind of life results from those pursuits.

In Melting Stones, Evy, Rosethorn, and an assortment of new characters are off to an island that is having a strange problem. Their plants are dying, and their water is being poisoned. Rosethorn, and a Water temple dedicate named Myrrhtide, are there to find out what is wrong. Evy, who’s magic centers around stones, is there mostly to tag along with the only person she really likes. This situation changes when it is discovered that the problem lies in a volcano that is about to erupt on the island. Evy finds out that the volcano is being caused by a pair of beings that she names Flame and Crimson. They have the mentality of children who are bored, and want to break out of their underground world and see something new. While these creatures, who are basically lava beings, understand that breaking out into the open sky will kill them, they don’t understand, or don’t care, that it will also kill everyone on the island.

Knowing that she can’t stop them forever, Evy must instead find a way to slow them down, while Rosethorn and Myrrhtide do their best to get everyone off of the island.

True to the fact that this book is intended for children, there is an inclusion of a character that I found interesting as a character, but moronic in what the character was. It is the heart of a mountain, which has decided to travel with Evy instead of staying inside of his mountain.  His name is Luvo. Again, he is an interesting character, but a very child like one.

All in all though, Evy’s story has been a fascinating one. She has changed and grown, and her stories continue to be fascinating. I would suggest giving Melting Stones a read. Once again, Pierce has proven that she is a writer to follow.

To a certain extent that may have been true, but after reading Hidden Empire and enjoying a true return to form, I have come to believe differently. Empire suffered, I think, because it was based on a premise that did not originally come from Card's imagination. He was brought into the project by video game makers who wanted to create an entertainment franchise surrounding a game about a near future American civil war. I believe now that's what was missing, a concept of Card's own creation.

Hidden Empire contains just as much of what we can presume are Card's political opinions, but it has the same essence of story and characters that I have come to expect from Card's fiction, and was sorely missing from Empire. His starting concept of a plague hitting the African continent is much more subtle and believable than the American civil war he spins in Empire and as a result Card is able to do much more interesting things with it.

He challenges his characters to make moral and ethical decisions while facing this new crisis and challenges his readers to imagine what we might do in their place. There is action for certain, intricate political machinations, but the most compelling part of this story, as with any of Card's stories, is emotion. We as readers care what is at stake for the characters while we are fascinated by the twists and turns the story takes.

While Card does reveal many of his conservative viewpoints, along with more than a few plugs for Fox News, his perspective on politics, history and the future, and the way it all gets woven into the story, is fascinating and educational. Some of his views (if we presume most of the views expressed are his, to some extent) aren't traditionally conservative, at least not fully, such as requiring all land vehicles to be electric so to conserve fossil fuels for jet and rocket engines. 

This series gets a bad rap for Card's conservatism. The first book deserved a bad rap, but not for the politics, rather the ho hum story execution. Hidden Empire is a return to everything I love about Card. If I get Card in top form, then I have no problem taking the conservative politics right along with him.

As a result, I went into Season Two wondering about all the fleeting items I saw on the internet or heard in person during its first run season. I also went into Season Two having recently finished reading Living Dead in Dallas, the second book of Charlaine Harris's series upon which the show is based (I've read the books hideously out of order due to library and audiobook availability). 

One of the things I like about the True Blood series and how it uses the books as a fundamental substance is how they keep Sookie's story lines generally true to the course of events in the books (the books being first person narrative), while taking creative liberties even to the extent of making up completely new story lines for the characters who do not get viewpoint attention in the books. It gives fans of the books a grounding in the familiar, while letting the viewer still be surprised by twists and turns when they invent new plots or shake up old ones.

I felt dubiously at first when I heard, before watching this season, that the Jason character would be joining the Fellowship of the Sun. As it turned out, though, I actually liked what this subplot did for the arch of the season. Jason never really turns against vampires and subscribes wholeheartedly to Fellowship doctrine; viewers never lose the sense that he's just looking for a place to belong. I also like the fact that this plot line introduces viewers to the Newlins and other Fellowship of the Sun characters before Sookie's fateful encounter with them later in the season. While they aren't terribly likable characters, they also aren't one-dimensional villains by virtue of this extra screen time.

The other big difference in Season 2 from Book 2 is the maenad/Maryann storyline. One of my Facebook friends complained that it seemed like there was an orgy in every episode. Hearing this critique, I wondered how gratuitously the show makers had distorted the book, as there was only one orgy I could recall in the original text. While the maenad/Maryann storyline wasn't particularly interesting for me, I didn't find it, or the orgies, off-putting. Far from a gratuitous grab for ratings, the orgies feature many of the un-sexiest characters in the series and are not dwelt upon with very much screen time at all. The conclusion was clever, and I enjoyed that it gave the series an excuse for an early introduction to Sophie Ann, the Queen of Louisiana. The only thing that rubbed me the wrong way about this story line was the fact that it became the grand climax of the story while it mostly didn't have much to do with Sookie until the end. In the book, the climactic orgy scene has everything to do with Sookie finding the killer of her friend Lafayette (who is saved from death by the series in a storyline with Eric that generally fizzles).

Finally, one storyline that I'm rather on the fence about is that of Jessica, the vampire created by Bill at the end of Season One. She is a character that was created entirely for the show and has never been a part of the books. She ends up in the show dating Hoyt, who is indeed a character from the books, but a fairly minor character. Their storyline isn't uninteresting, but it seems so detached from the core stories and characters, that I often find myself wondering "Why am I watching this?"

Overall, my impression upon watching this season is that it's much better than the rumors made it out to be. In general, True Blood is consistently entertaining and it's one of the DVD sets I most look forward to getting.    

As far as books in general go, anything Sookie Stackhouse beats out most any other commercial fiction. The only book I can think of that I'd read ahead of Sookie, if given the choice, is probably George R.R. Martin's latest, but that's only because it's been so many ga-zillion years wait for Dance With Dragons. Otherwise, Sookie always jumps to the top of my reading list when it's available. Charlaine Harris never disappoints with a new Sookie installment and every Sookie book is better than the majority of books in its genre.

That said, the inevitable path of the reviewer charged with the task of reviewing one of her favorites is to compare the book to others in its company, in this case, to others in its series. As Sookie Stackhouse books go, this one was slow moving in the beginning. Don't get me wrong, I could listen to Sookie eating breakfast if Johanna Parker were reading her internal thought monologue, but I found myself wondering where the book was going for much of the first half. Sookie books often have somewhat meandering plot lines, but even with that expectation, this book took some time to form into a distinctive plot. Looking back, there were events important to the resolution of the plot that happened early on, but without a distinctive "inciting incident" near the beginning of the book, it left the story directionless for a time.

Mystery Science Theater 3000

Creator Joel Hodgson is trapped on a space station along with his robot sidekicks, and forced to watch terrible sci-fi B movies. Joel and his companions, Tom Servo and Crow, provide sarcastic and witty "peanut gallery" commentary on these masterpieces of cinematic trash, as well as equally corny skits in between the showing of these movies, where Joel interacts with his robot puppet friends, trading cheesy entendres and references to obscure sci-fidelica.

Perhaps their most famous feature-length endeavor finds these characters discussing "Manos, The Hands Of Fate" which has been oft rated as "The Worst Movie Of All Time." The horror anti-classic features one of the most colossally stupid and irrelevant plots ever to grace the silver screen. A classic American family of man, wife, daughter and dog encounter a small, remote shack, and its caretaker, a bearded man with deformed knees. Any small bit of logic or sense is quickly jettisoned, leaving the viewer in a mire of confusion and mild disgust. Joel and his robot friends, however, make this a much more entertaining viewing experience, with rapid-fire witticisms, critiques, and obscure to semi-obscure references directed at the cast and crew.

The genius in MST3K lies in our fascination with things that are classically camp. It seems almost an American tradition to love things that are terrible, yet to be winkingly tongue-in-cheek about it. We know it’s awful, yet we play along with a smile. MST3K allows us elitist nerds to retain our sense of superiority while indulging in something blatantly stupid. That’s why it’s such a cult classic.

The show’s weakness lies in its skits between the showing of the said films. The skits are just as cheesy and juvenile as the movies being shown, but there is almost something terrifically meta about it: a cheesy movie about cheesy B-movies. How can one go wrong?

Another great one from Hopkins, but redundant characters

Since the announcement from Hopkins that she would be writing Tricks I have been extremely excited; the book lived up to all of my excitement. While Identical still remains my favorite, I loved Tricks. Much like Hopkin's other book, Impulse, I feel she has progressed a long way with the multiple points of view poetry novel. Once again, she didn't use much verity of the poetry style (such as making pictures with words), but the use of poetry was very strong and hard to notice. Where as in Impulse, the redundant lack of style was much more noticeable, the storyline and intensity of Tricks makes the reader barely notice.

The characters in this story had such variety, it was almost mind boggling. When starting to read, I was a bit intimidated by the the fact that there were five point of view characters. I also found myself questioning how she would make the story flow using five different stories. Ultimately, it came together very well. As a side note, most of the characters reminded me of characters from past Hopkins books. This book follows the viewpoints of Eden, Seth, Whitney, Ginger and Cody.

Eden (which I love her name!) is a girl from a very religious evangelical family. Eden is much comparable to Sue from Hopkin's book Burned. Being an atheist, her story was very frustrating, yet amusing. Seth is a farm boy who is secretly gay. His story was in the middle for me. I liked the beginning, but as it went on, I became impartial to it. I loved the glam feeling to his story, but just the idea behind his latter relationship creeps me out a bit. I found him somewhat comparable with Tony from Impulse. Whitney was one of the easiest to relate to (until deeper into the story). She is a virgin saving herself for the right moment. Though a virgin, she is very far from innocent. I found myself comparing her to Raeanne from Identical. As her story continued though, of all give stories, it is the story of Whitney that scared me the most.

Ginger was my favorite. She is unlike any of Hopkin's other characters I came to know and love previously. Ginger comes a family of five siblings and mother who turns tricks. It's almost surprising how her story goes given her situation, but I also found myself falling in love her with gothy friend and loved how Hopkins finally put in a girl who wasn't straight. It was refreshing to have a character who came from a bad place and with a different sexuality.

Finally there was Cody, my least favorite. He is an atypical boy working at game stop who has an addiction to gambling. I have a hard time relating to boys in books who are not gay, so that was the first set off to Cody. He wasn't that interesting of a character either, and I found his addiction to gambling frustrating. The interesting thing about his story is simple how he ended up. While interesting, it felt a little impulsive and concluded so quickly, it felt as if Hopkins just forced him to a path very quickly to make him fit into the book. The change was so random and quick, it felt unnatural.

The premise of Leverage seems hokey at first glance, but don't let it dissuade you. This show follows a team of thieves and con-artists who have banded together to work for the proverbial "little guy," using their underhanded talents to right the wrongs inflicted by life's bullies. They use all manner of high- and low-tech tricks to pull off their contra-cons, adding appeal and cleverness to the concept. Sometimes the tech seems a little far-fetched, but the show writers in the DVD commentary claim that they check and confirm that each tech twist is indeed possible in this day and age. The premise is un-apologetically a clean-cut, action-packed revenge fantasy, and in that respect, you will not be disappointed. It is at the top of its game in the con-artist genre, but if you look for more than a concept in your fiction, don't worry, there is much more to this show.

Leverage is not what I'd call an expressly character-driven show; ultimately each episode is about the plot, and you could watch the episodes out of order without missing anything significant. There are, however, underlying character threads running throughout the show that make the cast of Leverage much more likable than in your average plot-centered show. Consistent fans of Leverage will enjoy watching the character arcs over the course of seasons while the casual viewer won't feel left out of the background details. 

You'll never hear me say that Leverage is an intricate or challenging drama - it's not in the same league as a show like Dexter, to borrow a fellow example of the revenge genre. But for a fun, episodic, plot-driven show, it's definitely a crowd pleaser and one of the best of its ilk in recent years. 

Alex is turning 27, the very age at which his mother began to go insane. Alex's fear that he too will soon go insane is heightened when odd events erupt around him which force Alex to question his sanity. He soon falls in love with a mysterious young woman named Jax who turns out to be from another world. Jax joins him on an exciting journey, the outcome of which the fates of two worlds depends upon. Alex must come to terms with his heritage and find within himself the strength to live up to the burden which his ancestry entails.

I enjoyed this novel because it brought Goodkind's fast paced narrative to bear upon our own world. Goodkind sets the story, for the most part, in places that actually exist, which lends to the novel a feeling of reality and draws the reader into the action. Goodkind paints Alex as a normal 21st century guy and this allows readers to identify with his fear and confusion when faced with death threats and seemingly impossible magic. Goodkind sets this novel up as a much distant continuation of his earlier books and this allows his fans to feel like even though so much has changed they are getting back into familiar territory. That does not mean that you need to be familiar with Goodkind's earlier work to follow the story. There is enough background and detail filled in that the new reader can follow the story without any trouble, although readers might miss out on some of the references which are made toward the earlier novels.

In trying to establish the link between his older books and this one, Goodkind at times strayed toward being overly repetitive or seeming to be uncreative. There were times when Alex and Jax seemed to be exact copies of Richard and Kahlan. At points in the novel Alex talks about the special smile which Jax gives only to him, which was the same thing that Richard used to say about Kahlan in the Sword of Truth novels. Also, the underlying conflict that moves the plot along is a little too similar to his earlier novels.

Repetitions not withstanding, this novel was an extremely enjoyable read. It will bring a comfortable feeling of familiarity to veteran Goodkind fans and will be engrossing to any newcomers. From the first pages you will be drawn in and filled with a desire to understand what exactly is The Law of Nines.

The only saving grace that could be gleaned was that the actors cast were absolutely perfect. Each actor accurately embodied their character. Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson (Bella and Edward respectively) are iconic as their literary companions, as are the actors who filled out the Cullens and now the Quileute. 

With New Moon, everything wrong with its predecessor appears to be fixed. The director was replaced by Chris Weitz (who also directed The Golden Compass, an imperfect but enjoyable film), and the story was treated with expert precision. Oh, and they got rid of that awful blue tint.

The Twilight Saga: New Moon explores Bella and Edward’s relationship by doing the only thing it can do, by having them break up. In doing so they learn just how necessary they are too each other as it literally pains them to be apart. Though Bella is devastated by her loss, she throws herself into the comfort of Jacob Black, a member of the local Indian tribe who is also not quite as he seems.  Unfortunately, Jacob has very strong feelings for Bella, but she can’t reciprocate as she is still very much in love with Edward and only views Jacob has a friend. 

In the end, a simple misunderstanding leads Edward to believe Bella dead and he feels he must end his own life. Bella, very much alive, has to travel half way around the world to try to save him before it’s too late.

Separating Bella and Edward is a necessary evil, as you can’t really understand how important their relationship is until they aren’t together anymore. Even though the story is entirely Bella-centric, visions of Edward still haunt her, especially whenever she does something that could involve her getting hurt (like riding motorcycles). Bella indulges her own daredevil self quite often just to get one of these visions.

Her relationship with Jacob is another strong point in the film and a major one for fans of the series.  Bella finds strong support in Jacob while dealing with the absence of Edward. Jacob, however, has such strong feelings for Bella, he is unable to keep them to himself. Jacob is certainly the Yin to Edwards Yang. He is literally hot (his body temp is 108 degrees), he doesn’t have much money, and he can turn into a very large werewolf. And while his tribe is at war with the vampires, they have an uneasy truce with the Cullens.

This time around, the translation from book to film is done with sculptor's hands. Changes were made to keep the film thematically interesting, but still staying true to the story and the characters. The actors are also given clearer direction, which makes for an overall much more enjoyable acting piece.

The book is a very tough read because it is all about Bella’s introspection and depression regarding Edward. This aspect weighed down the book heavily and thus it is the black sheep for the Twilight Series. Luckily, while the film does touch on this theme, it isn’t mired with the loathing and torture that the book is.

Also, while Jacob does have a big following among fans, he is very annoying in the books. He comes off as arrogant and whiny and just doesn’t know when to let go (an affliction all the characters share truthfully). The best thing about Taylor Lautner’s performance is that he imbued the role with such charm that he becomes a likable and sympathetic character whom you root for, regardless if you’re on “Team Edward” or “Team Jacob.”

New Moon was adapted just about as perfectly as you can adapt that book into a film. If you’re one of the folks who have passed judgment on the series, the film will do little to change your mind.  And even though being familiar with the Twilight isn’t required, it’s necessary truly to understand the story.

If you’re a Twilight fan who is holding out until the throng of preening teenage girls have thinned before going to the theater, you do owe yourself a trip to the cinema as soon as you can. 

This trilogy follows in first person perspective the character of Nevare Burvelle, a second son to a noble family who, because of his birth order, is destined to become a soldier for the crown. At first glance, and in truth, for the entire first book, this series appears to be a better-than-average coming of age story about a young man who goes off to the officers' academy to fulfill his destiny, armed with a mysterious magic that shapes his future and bodes of a life that will amount to more than those futures of his school comrades. In truth, much more is going on in this book, events that will have bearing on the entire rest of the trilogy in a cascade of "chaos theory"-style repercussions. The first book Shaman's Crossing is an entertaining tale, but it is in the second novel, Forest Mage, that the story takes a very interesting turn.

The Soldier Son trilogy is unlikely to end up as required reading in high school English classes, but within the established fantasy genre structure this story challenges readers with plot and character twists. It tears down the very structure of expectations that it builds over the course of the first book, and dares readers to see its fantasy hero in a way, to which they are completely unaccustomed. As our hero's life and plans are derailed in unexpected ways, the reader is drawn into sympathizing with the character while at the same time decrying, "The story can't possibly continue like this!" More than once, the changes to Nevare's life and to the course of the storyline seem nearly intolerable, both for Nevare and for the reader, but just like the protagonist, readers also adjust to the new norms created by Hobb as the story unfolds. What is more remarkable though, is that in a story where magic has a mind of its own and goes even so far as to backseat the narrator in his own body, Hobb still puts the story in her protagonist's hands. Nevare drives this story at every turn, even when he is fighting the inevitable pull of the magic that has beset him.

The Soldier Son trilogy is a great pick for fantasy readers looking for a story that pushes beyond the norm while also remaining grounded in fantasy familiarities.

I live on the east coast and was one of the moviegoers ravaged by the blizzard in December that analysts predicted would damage the opening weekend totals for Avatar. We now know those predictors were wrong, and even though I braved the weather to get to my local cinema, it wasn’t to buy an Avatar ticket. When I walked in, I was astounded by the crowd. Not just because of the weather, but it’s rare to see a line through the lobby in the middle of the afternoon. Everyone was clutching a pair of 3D glasses, so I knew what they were waiting for. I gave in a week after Christmas.

What struck me first about the movie is the pure scope. At no point was I distracted by any of the visual effects, which appear in every frame on camera. Cameron’s team crafted a world so tangible that 3D really is the only way to experience it. Motion capture has come a long way in the last few years, even since Gollum, transferring all of the emotion and expression an actor brings to the screen seamlessly into the CG creations, the N’avi. Live-action performers blend effortlessly in with a world of green screen, strengthened by the talents of Cameron collaborator Sigourney Weaver and rising star Sam Worthington.

The story elements of Avatar are far from original, whether they know it or not borrowing heavily from a wide range of films from Dances With Wolves to Ferngully. The thing that struck me is not only is this a story we’ve seen before, this is a story we’ve seen before from James Cameron, with echoes of Aliens, Titanic, and the Abyss thrown in for good measure. Still, even though I never wondered what would happen next, I found myself wrought with emotion at all the right times, and cheering for the victory of our heroes. Socially relevant issues often sneak their way into blockbusters these days, and Cameron is no stranger—next time you watch Aliens, look for references to the Vietnam war and corporate interests. But, I was struck that such a leftist, pro-environment storyline had captured the attention of a conservative, increasingly unsustainable viewer majority.

Avatar wasn’t one of my favorite movies of 2009; it wouldn’t crack its way onto my top ten, at least. It isn’t even one of my favorite James Cameron movies. But, it is a movie I’ve recommended people take time out of their schedule to see theatrically, in what I was sure would be a long run. There’s little question that Avatar is the movie to beat Sunday night at the Oscars. The real question is, after creating such a pop culture juggernaut, what will Cameron bring us next?

Haunted

In many ways, that's what this book is, a novelty for people who read her series regularly. It stems from a pre-climactic plot point in the previous Otherworld book (which I read after Haunted) in which deceased witch Eve Levine bargains with the fates to gets the main characters of that book returned to life after accidentally falling into a portal to the afterlife in pursuit of the bad guy. Now, Eve owes the fates a favor, and they are calling it in to have her track down a particularly pesky Nix who has escaped from a hell dimension and has so far eluded all efforts to bring her to justice, and meanwhile inhabits the minds of women in the real world, turning them into murderesses. With the help of her erstwhile real world lover, Kristof, and an angel with human sensibilities, Eve scours the expansive ghost-world, which very often overlays the real world, intent on hunting down the Nix.

When I looked this book up on Amazon to refresh my memory on the plot details, I was mildly surprised that it got a rather snide review from Publishers Weekly (the default editorial review). Not because it's fabulous literature, but because these generic plot-summary reviews so often praise the most mindless of books. Haunted is not a book I'd recommend to every SFF fan, but I found it entertaining. These books are written, stylistically, like a romance novel, however, they don't follow the plot formula of the romance genre. What I mean, is that the style is very pop-commercial, and the focus of the book is very much on character relationships within families, i.e. parents, children, lovers, spouses. The female character may be portrayed as strong and independent, but relationships are always very important to them, and those relationships get special attention in the book. It's a "nesting" theme that gets a lot of attention in romance novels. Here there's the nesting, but not the controlling "will they or won't they" plot that tends to drive most romances. There are some minor love-relationship conflicts, but they are, indeed, very minor. The plot of this book is, indeed, Eve's pursuit of the Nix, and I found this plot entertaining because it is well-grounded in Eve's character. Each step of the unfolding plot is driven by Eve, her character development and her decisions. Even if the Nix makes a surprising move to upset Eve's plans, Eve's reaction to it is equally active and decisive. In other words, the plot doesn't happen to Eve; Eve happens to the plot.

While this book revolves in a lot of ways around the novelty of Armstrong's constructed ghost world and the focus on known characters brought back from earlier novels, it's not necessary to have read the earlier novels to enjoy this book. It's a fun, character-driven novel that is, admittedly, something of a chick-book.     

One of the primary hooks in inFamous is the player’s ability to develop Cole either as a reluctantly benevolent superhero or a brooding, anti-heroic supervillain. As you progress through the story, the moral choices you make will affect the game world in a variety of ways: Cole’s physical appearance will change to match his personality; citizens will respond to you with fear or adoration; and certain story events and bits of dialogue will be different depending on your alignment. The game measures your Good and Evil actions on a sliding scale, making it easy to recant your past deeds and reset Cole’s moral compass mid-game. While choosing a particular path barely affects the main story arc, inFamous encourages sticking to one side of the karmic coin by offering ability upgrades specific to each alignment. While it may be tempting to constantly try to balance your Good and Evil actions, players are ultimately rewarded for experiencing the game in its entirety under a single moral heading. This dual morality mechanic adds breadth to the story, but it also highlights the difficulties involved in attempting to incorporate tricky philosophical arguments in videogames. Where many titles try to present their choices in shades of gray, inFamous relies on stark black and white scenarios that spare little room for moral ambiguity. One story event lets you choose which poster of Cole will be plastered across the city: a heroic profile or a menacing death’s head. Another event gives you the option of disarming a bomb or carelessly letting it detonate, destroying a police station. With such transparent choices, it’s never a question in which direction your decisions are pushing the morality meter. This isn’t entirely problematic; but there’s something to be said for subtlety. A bit less contrast in the game’s moral dilemmas could have helped strengthen the overall experience by forcing gamers to make decisions more carefully.

It’s obvious developer Sucker Punch designed inFamous with a comic book aesthetic in mind. All of the major cinematics play out as moving comics, effects-enhanced still images that glide across the screen. The sprawling open world metropolis of Empire City and its inhabitants are modeled with a similar style of cartoony realism. Everything looks terrific. The game’s lighting effects are incredible: electricity leaps from Cole’s hands, tracing vibrant paths of destruction along groups of enemies, spiderwebbing across fences and pools of water, or igniting derelict automobiles into concussive blasts of flame. Animations are simply great—nothing beats watching an electrified bystander spring up stock still, then collapse on the ground rigor mortis straight. And Cole’s parkour-esque leaps and ascents, calling to mind Sucker Punch’s flagship mascot Sly Cooper, are captivating to watch. The game’s frame rate is typically smooth, but tends to chug during frantic, effects-heavy battles. A curious tendency to get stuck in invisible walls will annoy you, but should by no means ruin the experience.

While inFamous earns kudos for its intuitive visual design, the package’s real appeal lies in its tight controls and finely tuned gameplay mechanics. At its core, inFamous is an open world platformer married to a precision third person shooter. Players will spend much of the game scaling and traversing Empire City’s towering collection of high rises and landmarks ledge-by-ledge (a la Assassin’s Creed) and performing precise leaps from telephone poles, street lights, and satellite arrays. The game is awfully forgiving here, offering a “sticky” mechanic that automatically attaches Cole to nearby objects. This function can become annoying when frantically leaping away from enemy crossfires and makes it nearly impossible to execute a smooth descent from any of the city’s structures. But most of the time it’s a welcome safety net that (usually) prevents you from overshooting your target and plummeting into water traps—which, in Cole’s hyperelectric state, almost always results in an untimely death. Early in the story you’ll unlock the ability to speed grind electrified wires and subway lines, making travel between the city’s three major islands much quicker and more fun. inFamous’ brand of stylized platforming should be familiar to anyone who’s played a Sly Cooper, and is vaguely reminiscent of the better Spider-Man titles (check out Treyarch’s Ultimate Spider-Man). In fact, don’t be surprised if you find yourself pining for web-slinging action every time you send Cole hurtling off of a terrace.

As engaging as its exploration elements are, inFamous’ spot-on third person combat really shines. You begin the game proper with a basic lightning bolt attack that neatly replaces any genre-traditional firearm. As you progress through the central storyline, you’ll unlock new attacks and abilities—energy grenades, electromagnetic shockwaves, force fields and precision sniper controls—all of which can be upgraded through neutral or alignment-specific expansion trees. In order to purchase these upgrades, you’ll need to amass experience points (XP) by defeating enemies and completing missions scattered throughout the city. On higher difficulties, standard combat yields less XP; but by chaining together various attacks with bonus Stunts (headshotting an airborne enemy, knocking a baddy off a roof), you can quickly build up a reserve of currency. Upgrading along a Good or Evil ability branch requires advancement through a three-tiered Karma Meter that tracks the morality of your every action. Both branches include exclusive secondary effects that further augment your combat abilities. These residuals are comparable and ultimately offer an excuse to replay the game under the opposing morality. An energy meter at the top of your HUD keeps track of Cole’s internal power supply. While the standard lightning bolt won’t sap your reserve, more powerful attacks will. You can replenish your supply by siphoning energy from the city’s power grid or sucking the life out of downed enemies and civilians. Collecting Blast Shards – small glowing chunks of rock scattered throughout the city—expands your energy bar, but only to a certain point. Tracking down all 350 shards is addicting, recalling Crackdown’s endless search for hidden Orbs. Even though you’ve got a radar to help locate the elusive Shards, it’s little consolation when you’re left scouring the city for the last one or two fragments.

The central story arc of inFamous plays out over 40 missions, identified on the map as blue exclamation points. These missions focus mostly on combat and exploration, and range from repowering subways to scouring a park for invisible enemies. Periodically, you’ll be sent into the sewers to bring a downed substation back online, restoring power to portions of the city and unlocking new abilities. Side missions become available as you make your way through the story; these include escorting captured enemies, methodically ridding buildings of mounted surveillance equipment, and tracking down stolen medical supplies to access clinics which double as respawn points. Fifteen Good-Evil side missions dot the islands, providing substantial fuel for your Karma Meter and occasionally adding perspective to the story. But once you commit to one of these aligned missions, its sister mission disappears from the map; so choose carefully.

Enemy encounters are frequent and consistently engaging. Often, they’ll attack in groups, swarming Cole from all angles (above and below), cleverly using the environment to find cover and secure vantage points. Although each island features its own unique gang, enemy types come standard: gun-toting grunts, grenadiers, rocket launching heavies, and Conduits, special units with powers ranging from teleportation to junk monster “mech” armor. Boss battles are few but wildly chaotic. The climactic final encounter will put your reflexes (and the game’s excellent control scheme) to the test, forcing you to blast, dodge, and reorient in an exhausting, seemingly endless cycle. Featuring the type of intense, technical combat series like God of War and Ninja Gaiden have become famous for, this is easily the high point of the game.

The main storyline of inFamous won’t take long to blast through if you ignore side missions, collectibles, and grinding for experience. And if you’ve already mastered its combat mechanics in previous playthroughs, even the game’s hardest difficulty setting shouldn’t offer much of a challenge. Enemies will take more hits before going down for good; but unless you’re being swarmed by baddies, most deaths will likely be attributed to misjudged leaps and errant grenades setting off self-immolating chain reactions. The real appeal to replaying inFamous is experiencing all of the minor story and gameplay tweaks that result from following a different moral alignment. Although the city becomes re-accessible after you defeat the final boss, there isn’t much to do after endgame. Completionists can scour the map for Blast Shards, venture back into unconquered neighborhoods to complete side missions, collect XP to unlock and enable all of Cole’s abilities or complete a variety of Trophy challenges (take down 25 enemies from aboard a moving train, get 50 sticky grenade kills, etc.). Aside from cinematics and Dead Drops (audio logs) becoming available for playback, there are no unlockables. There’s no online support or local multiplayer, so be prepared to go it alone. The game’s DLC is limited to a single, free add-on ability (the Gigawatt Blades) available for download on PSN; and no further expansions appear to be in the pipeline. Basically, you’re set with what you’ve got out of the box. But for an experience this entertaining (and one so clearly in line for a sequel), that’s not much of a complaint.

Bottom line: inFamous has earned a lot of critical acclaim and industry accolades for being one of the few successful original IP’s this generation, as well as a standout PS3 exclusive and consistent “Best of” nominee for 2009. Its slick controls, spot-on gameplay mechanics and intuitive visual design make it an obvious choice for savvy gamers. Dedicated players can easily complete the modest central storyline twice (once for each alignment) over the course of a week, experiencing most of what the game has to offer in a few sittings. While inFamous presents a spectacular single-player experience, its lack of multiplayer or substantial DLC and virtual dearth of endgame content rob it of any sense of longevity. It’s a must-play; but unless you’re the type of gamer that obsesses over finding every last collectible, you’re better off renting and completing than committing to the retail price tag.

Developer: Sucker Punch
Publisher: Sony Computer Entertainment America (SCEA)
Genre: Action
Players: 1
ESRB: Teen (T)
System: Playstation 3
Other Systems: NA
Release Date: May 26, 2009

My fears were quickly dispelled. The prose was nearly identical to the previous eleven novels in the series and the characters were all just as fun and interesting as ever. We rejoin Rand just after he lost his hand in his battle with the forsaken Semirhage. Rand continues to cut himself off from those around him, believing that the only way he can gain victory at Tarmon Gaidon is by making himself completely emotionless and driven. He has accepted death, and like the voice of Lews Therin Telamon in his head he longs for it all to be over. Before that can happen though he still must confront the Seanchan and forge the nations into a unified fighting force. In the midst of all this Rand discovers an enormous source of power which awakens in him a dark force that slowly begins to alter him. Perrin is stuck herding to safety all the refugees that he helped to rescue from the Shaido. To compound his problems his relationship with his wife Faile has become oddly strained. Following the initial elation which accompanied their first meeting, they have drifted apart, both knowing that events had happened during their separation which could potentially damage their marriage should they come to light. Matt Cauthon, newly married, contemplates the consequences of his unusual nuptials with Tuon. Knowing how a husband is supposed to act, Matt is determined to go on gambling and drinking as if nothing has changed. This determination leads him to make a bet with an isolated community with frightening results. Matt also must figure out how he is to help Thom Merrilin rescue Moiraine Damodred from the mysterious creatures that live in the land behind the red stone doorway—ter'angreal. Meanwhile, Egwene, still a prisoner of the White Tower, continues her battle for control with Elaida. Their battle of wills is interrupted by a long foreseen yet still surprising assault on the Aes Sedai by a strange and dangerous enemy. During the attack Egwene must choose whether she will escape or help those who have imprisoned her. The book also visits other characters including Aviendha, Gawyn and Verin.

Despite the ommission of some fairly important characters this novel is as exciting a tale as any of the previous books in the series. The change of authors does not cause any major errors in continuity and no insight into the characters is lost. I would rank this book as one of the top five of the series. Brandon Sanderson has done right by Robert Jordan and continued the series in a manner much in keeping with Jordan's tradition. Even the most die-hard Jordan fan will find little to complain about in this latest instillation in The Wheel of Time series.

The movie 2012 uses this date has an excuse to make the ultimate disaster film. Disaster film guru Roland Emmerich (The Day After Tomorrow, Godzilla, Independence Day) has created a masterpiece of destruction on celluloid. The result is nothing short of spectacular, both visually and viscerally, and makes for the perfect popcorn flick. It’s great to watch, but falls apart when you think about it too much.

The film is divided by two stories. The first is that of Jackson Curtis (John Cusack), a failed writer and failed family man working as a limo driver. As the city starts to fall apart around him (literally) he risks everything to rescue his ex-wife and his children and try to keep them alive as long as possible. The second is the story of Adrian Helmsley (Chiwetel Ejiofor, using a near flawless American accent), a geologist working for the White House who discovers that the Earth is slowing destroying itself. His story centers around how the government reacts to this crisis, and also tries to explain the science behind what is happening.

You see, on the titular date the planets will align which will cause harmful Sun activity. This activity somehow causes the Earth's core to heat up and thus forces the Earth’s continents to shift. This shifting causes all the destruction that the film centers around. Of course, how planets aligning affects the Sun, or how the Sun affects the Earth's core, or even how the Ancient Mayans knew about this impending doom (right down to the exact day no less) is never explained.

Anyways, the stories around these characters are great quiet moments amidst all the grand-scale chaos. The ancillary characters that surround them are the normal mixture for a movie of this type. They are a simple batch of the unlikeable and the quirky who all have some usefulness, and are unceremoniously killed off, then if they're lucky they'll get a brief scene for others to grieve, then they're never mentioned again (the only exception to this rule are animals and children, both of whom inexplicably escape harm at all turns). And then everyone moves on to the next point of epic carnage.

And when I say epic... I mean epic! The cataclysmic destruction of our planet and the cities is beautiful to behold. 2012 packs in every single disaster into one film; Earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis, nautical, any place disaster could strike and in any way it could happen, happens here.  And boy is it fun to watch. Whole cities crumble in glorious detail. Sky scrappers break apart in slow motion sequences where can you see every person and every piece of office furniture as they go to their doom. A major national park becomes the unwitting victim of a very large volcanic eruption.  Even Washington D.C. is not free from the tsunami to end all tsunamis. Every minute detail is crafted with loving care, and by loving care, I'm talking about the death of several billion people on the planet.

Despite some rather questionable science, and the usual where characters literally outlive their usefulness, 2012 is wonderful to watch. If you grew up on Irwin Allen's disaster films, this flick will knock your socks off!

By today’s standards, that miniseries, and the regular series that followed, is painfully cheesy. The acting is not very well done, and the special effects are woefully dated. The one element that still holds up is the story, which is a universal tale about normal folk overcoming great odds and achieving immeasurable success.

Naturally, the higher-ups in TV land thought that the "success" of the Bionic Woman remake and the Knight Rider remake (read: epic fail) could easily be applied to V. After the premiere, only one word came to mind… meh.

First off, let’s just say that the show definitely gave V a fresh coat of paint. This is a series for high-def. The scenes of the spaceships are gorgeous. At one point we get a very detailed fly-through of the interiors of the mothership. Obviously scenes like this were done at very high expense.

Sadly, that was the only real highlight of the premiere. What the show loses from what that mini-series was able to achieve was a slow build-up. The original rebellion had a very organic feeling, as you watched it build up from very humble beginnings to a full-on attack force. The modern retelling just jumps right into the fray with a rebellion already formed (it quickly gets deformed, but that’s for a future episode to explore). And while the original had the feeling that this was all done by ordinary people who were just trying to figure things out as they went along, this new take has professionals doing very uncommon people jobs. For instance, the main heroine is changed from a doctor in the original to an FBI terrorist hunter. Plus, the reveal that the Vistors are up to something is way too apparent way too quickly.

It’s odd that the only thing that makes the original stand out today is the one thing that got pushed aside so they could bring in name TV actors and flashy CGI graphics. I know you shouldn’t judge a series by its premiere, like judging a book by its cover. However, this show really needs to remember that at it’s core, it’s always about the story and the characters, everything else comes second.

Reading like an extra long version of your favorite Twilight Zone episode, or a better scripted and developed version of The Ring or The Grudge, No Doors, No Windows is a classic ghost story/ psychological thriller with twists and turns to spare. Even better, we're spared the blood and gory details. It's only as bloody or gory as you imagine it to be, and let me tell you have I got a imagination.

I absolutely devoured this book in two days. As the second evening came on, I only had 50 pages to go and I'd be finished. It was dark outside and I was getting ready to climb into bed. Turn off most of the lights and read the book in bed, or wait till the sun was up to reach the conclusion? As much as I hate to put down a good book, I was going to make sure I finished this book when the sun was high in the sky.

The film begins by telling us that it’s based on a true story. Yeah, like Silence of the Lambs and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre are based on the Ed Gein story.

So there’s this kid who has terminal cancer who has to get experimental treatments… in Connecticut. Since the commute is ridiculous, the boy’s mother decides they should rent a house that’s closer to where he’s getting treated. Of course, the house she chooses is the cheap, creepy looking place. Right away our cancer boy starts to see strange things going on, which we find out is because he’s "in between the two worlds" (as explained by Casey Jones). Regardless, Dad, the two little kids and the cousin join our unhappy duo in the haunted house… in Connecticut. There’s a mysteriously locked room downstairs that no one can open, for about two days, then the door mysteriously opens to reveal the ugly truth… the house used to be a funeral home! Worse, all the medical instruments and fluids are still around. Instead of complaining to the landlord or maybe the rental association, out loving family decide they should just not go into that room anymore.  You know, cause of the sharp instruments and the little kids…

Moving on. Turns out that’s not the only history in the place; looks like they also used to hold séances, with a little boy as the psychic. In a moment of entrepreneurial brilliance, the director of the place used necromancy to enhance the boys powers so his readings would be more showy… which from what we’re shown just meant he threw-up a lot.

Yup… this was a true story folks.

What makes this movie so painful is that it’s supposed to be a scary film. Instead, it’s more about a family dealing with their dying son… in Connecticut. Along the way, the mother reaffirms her faith, the father reaffirms he’s an alcoholic, the kids reaffirm they like to play hide & go seek in inappropriate places, and the cancer boy reaffirms that when you get messed up visions that no one else can see, you should investigate them completely.

There’s really only one ghost who shows up, and you figure out who he is pretty early on, and the big "twist" really isn't that surprising, and can be guessed quickly.

What’s worse is that the scary parts with the ghosts are basically a diet coke version of The 6^th Sense.

There are some small bits of creepy, but the overall experience is more about this family and their drama. For a ghost story, that’s extremely depressing… even in Connecticut. If you’re dying to see this film, borrow it from one of you friends who were unlucky enough to purchase the film and hit fast forward.

And major big plus, the book has maps in the front. I loves me a good map.

On a lighter side, we picked up Soulless, by Gail Carriger.  It's a lovely, amusing, witty vampire novel with a twist.  Carriger implies this is just the beginning of  a casual series, and that is just fine by me. Alexia Tarabotti is under no danger of being bitten by a vampire, as she was born without a soul.  When supernatural creatures touch her, they lose all their supernatural powers – fangs recess, werewolves are no longer hungry, things like that.   I've only read a few chapters, and the gaslight environs and Alexia's obsession with her wardrobe is keeping my highly entertained.  A nice light read, perhaps this will be my gateway drug to Twilight?  Was talking with a friend a work who is nuts over the Twilight books. . . sounds like things easy to read while you're babysitting a counter.

At its most basic level, this is a murder mystery. In Eco's afterward, he mentions the idea of the novel was born when he played with the idea of poisoning a monk. He also mentions that he wrote the prose in a specifically open manner to encourage readers to form their own interpretation of events and conversations. Is that person being sarcastic? Is there some kind of secrecy going on? If you interpret it that way, then he is, and there is.

Brother William and novice Adso are traveling to a Benedictine Monastery in Italy, for the purpose of meeting up with other monks in the area. They are hoping to devise a plan of attack for an upcoming meeting between the Pope and the Holy Roman Emperor, at which heresy will be the main topic. When William and Adso arrive, they are informed of the recent death of a young monk, and asked to investigate. To protect the reputation of his monastery, the Abbot wishes for William to find out what's going on before the other Catholic representatives arrive.

And, as this is a murder mystery, the bodies start piling up. As a friend of Sir Francis Bacon and William of Occam, brother William goes about his investigation in a very scientific way. Ask questions, find out where people were at the times of death, look for people with fishy alibies, look for footprints in the snow by the bodies. Piece by piece, Williams puts together his hypotheses, with minimal help from the secretive monks. He even sneaks into their famous labyrinth library after the abbot forbids him from doing so. There is something in that library that people are dying for. Like myself, William is a lover of books and knowledge – no learning is heretical, it is all important. Libraries of that time were literally banks of information, scrolls and books that existed no where else in the world. The philosophical idea of a library that exists to keep knowledge away from people and keep secrets was beyond fascinating for me.

The days go by, there are more deaths, the other Catholic representatives arrive, along with the Inquisition. Eco says he put the Inquisition in the story because you can't have a 14^th century story take place in a monastery without them. And yes, that chapter made me queasy, had me biting my nails, and nearly gave me an anxiety attack.

There is so much more I could say about this novel, so I'll say just one more thing: read it. Make sure you get a copy with Eco's afterword (because that's the best part), and read it. Eco hits everything just right: style of prose, action, descriptions, dialogue, I can't find a single thing to complain about.

It's books like this that make those mediocre novels so hard to enjoy.

The story here takes us back to the original miniseries launch, following the Cylon attack on the twelve colonies, and carries us through the first episodes of the show. I know what you're saying, we already know what happens, we've even got it on DVD. But wait, this time it's from the Cylon perspective. What were those sixes and eights doing before we got glimpses of their lives. Until Season 3, we were only treated to subtle glimpses of Cylon society and what their schemes might bring, kind of like a teaser to remind us bad guys were still pursuing the heroes. Now, the curtain's pulled back and the various stages of the master plan are unveiled.

This installment is a must-have for die-hard fans of the series. It fills in many gaps and blends seamlessly into the existing episodes. At times I even wondered if I was watching some shots from different angles originally aired or if this was a deleted scene or recycled footage. Tricia Helfer, as always, brings her A game. "Let's get this genocide started" is not an easy quip to pull off, but Dean Stockwell's Brother Cavill manages to steal the scene with it. While I'm not sure if this is the last we'll see of the BSG universe, I'm glad we got this much. It's not often fans of a successful show are treated to afterthoughts this great. I guess the lesson learned here is sometimes there are more stories left to tell, even if not a whole season's worth.

This incident gets the attention of Mrs. Fredrick, a truly terrifying woman played by C.C.H. Pounder.  She is the leader of Warehouse 13, as she says, it is "hers." And so, both agents are sent to the Warehouse, where they meet Artie Nielsen, (Saul Rubinek). He is currently running the warehouse.

Once inside, the secret service officers encounter several incredible artifacts from America's History. Among them are Harry Houdini's wallet, a football that seems to launch into space when thrown, and a wishing kettle. Said kettle has the interesting side effect of producing a ferret when anyone wishes for something impossible. Seeing as how Bering's first act is to grab the kettle and wish for something impossible, she is now stuck with a ferret.

Warehouse 13 is described as "America's Attic." It is where anything strange, anything unexplainable or dangerous is stored away until we can understand it. It is the job of Bering, Lattimer, and Artie, to find these objects, and tuck them away.

The show really got interesting with the addition of Claudia, played by Allison Scagliotti. She's a nineteen year old techie, with some serious problems with listening to the rules. I have some issues with this character, mainly that most of her lines are either overly childish, or just plain cliché. This is really a shame, because I think Allison has a lot of acting talent, and I hope the writers start treating her better.

One huge and crucial issue in the first season is that the field agents Pete and Mika are just not privy to a lot of the history of the Warehouse. More importantly, at least as far as the plot goes, they don't know a lot about Artie's past. All of this comes to a head when a dangerous former Warehouse agent, James Macpherson, played by Roger Rees, decides to take the Warehouse down any way that he can. I don't have a lot of love for the character to tell the truth. Macpherson is scariest when he's not on stage, given the fact that he's being played by a older British man, who looks more likely to make you a nice hot cup of tea with lemon than to try and kill your family. Though, that didn't stop him from threatening to kill Mika's mother and father.

As for the season finalize, I was disappointed in one thing. I don't think enough was resolved. Macpherson escapes the Warehouse, in fact leaves it in ruins, possibly killing Artie, and certainly leaving Mika and Pete stranded, with no way to get out. It is my personal opinion that Artie is not dead. I believe that he had hold of the Phynix, an artifact that enables one to withstand fire. The thing that worries me is that the Phynix needs to take the life of someone else to save the life of the one holding it. So, who is really going to be dead at the start of season two?

Syfy has ordered at least nine more episodes. Unfortunately, there is no date yet as to when the second season will start. I will be watching vigilantly, however. This show has the air of the X-Files, but funnier. It's like Buffy, but intelligent. It is, at the end of the day, a great show, despite its short comings, and I hope to see it continuing into season two.    

In the history of cinema, particularly in the made-for-TV movie genre, Stephen King adaptations are touch and go. For every venture like It or The Stand, there's also The Langoliers and The Shining. All ranging in scope from divergent to die-hard faithful, the latter not always being an optimal viewing experience, as evident by the film I discuss today. Having premiered on the SyFy channel earlier this month, Children of the Corn is now available on uncut DVD at a retailer near you. This new vision comes partially from King himself, who takes a credit on the screenplay, stars David Anders (Alias, Heroes), Kandyse McClure (Battlestar Galactica) and a slew of really creepy children and teens.

 The premise, if you're unfamiliar with either the original short story or 1984 adaptation starring Linda Hamilton (Terminator), finds a couple on a road trip who, through circumstances beyond their control, wander through the remote Nebraskan town of Gatlin, where the religiously zealot children have purged themselves of adults and started their own society. Donald P. Borchers screenplay closely follows King's original story, making few embellishments on the way. In an age where the hardcore fanbases call for absolute faithfulness in their adaptations, maybe they should just stay quiet for a minute.

What Worked: The kids were downright disturbing. While only four or so actually have a character to speak of, the mob mentality and Yearning for Zion-esque wardrobe and daily routine are enough to keep me from ever going to Nebraska, even though I clearly get the difference between fiction and reality. Daniel Newman stands out in the role of Malachai, with a ferocious edge and unyielding devotion that only exists in youth. Seeing him one moment tender with the girl carrying his child, quickly screaming into the leader of the militia-like group of men, accompanied by anyone old enough to stand and carry a weapon. The most gut wrenching moment of the ordeal comes in the beginning of the third act when we see the prophet child Isaac overseeing a fertilization ritual between a newly of age male and female. In Gatlin, those of mid-teen years must pair off and reproduce, before they're sent in exile and self-sacrifice to He Who Walks Behind the Rows, their alleged god in the corn.

 What Didn't: Almost everything else, for me anyway. I didn't find a great deal of chemistry between the two leads. Their banter at the beginning of the story is the kind of everyday conceit that works amazingly in King's prose, but not so well on screen. The climax is a bit lacking, however true to the source material it may be. Say what you will about 80s horror movies, but I found myself missing some of the artistic liberties taken in the original, including the adult travelers' fighting back. There's a great moment after our female lead has had her encounter with the townsfolk where her male companion shows the children who's boss. I just wish he'd gone a little further. The war veteran/PTSD subplot held a lot of promise at the beginning, but failed in its execution. One comment on the atmosphere, Gatlin seemed to sunny and bright all the time for me to feel any real sense of dread.

Ultimately, this remake/reimagining falls short of both its source and 1984 film. Lacking any moment of catharsis and failing to truly break any new ground, you're better off renting the original.

Star Wars

TFU's story (wedged neatly between Episodes III and IV) unfolds during the final days of the Jedi purge as the Empire continues to tighten its grip on the war-torn galaxy. The game drops the player into the formidable boots of Starkiller, an "orphaned" Jedi youngster who is adopted by Darth Vader and raised as his personal Dark Side agent. The Apprentice travels across the galaxy, hunting down the last of the Jedi and eventually going undercover to stir up counterrevolutionary
forces designed to distract the Emperor from Vader's impending betrayal. Fans can expect to see a number of familiar faces (including Bail and Leia Organa) sprinkled in among the newbies. Although most of the new characters are welcome additions to the Universe, Starkiller is the only one afforded any real amount of depth. LucasArts obviously made an effort to create a compelling and conflicted personality in the game’s lead, and they certainly succeeded. It's a shame they didn't lavish as much attention on the rest of the cast. The game's narrative is fairly intriguing overall, wrought with plenty of twists and surprises. A contrite bit of sentimentality in the ending's final moments mars an otherwise engaging story; but it's a small price to pay for a tale that's both
highly relevant to the Expanded Universe and fits so remarkably well into post-Prequel canon.

LucasArts didn't skimp on the game's production values: TFU doesn't have the most impressive graphics engine, but it does feature some massive environments, beautifully rendered planetscapes, and brilliant lighting effects. In-game models move and react believably, if not
entirely realistically. It's cool to watch Force-levitated troops latch onto nearby objects to stay grounded, but it would have been nice to see enemies with guns snap off some defensive shots while hanging in midair. Most of the character models in the game's cutscenes have a stiff, robotic quality—which is great for the droids but a little awkward for humanoids—and lifeless eyes. Some
pre-rendered CG might have cleared up these problems, but they're minor complaints. All the requisite Star Wars sound effects are represented, from the crackle of colliding lightsabers to the rattle and screech of passing TIEs. Somewhat unfortunately, the requisite Star Wars music is included, as well. I've got nothing against the classic Williams score, but after having been rehashed and repurposed for countless games, it's become more than a little cliché. A derivative original title theme does little to differentiate itself from the rest of the soundtrack.

TFU's gameplay consists of combat-intensive action mixed in with some light platforming and puzzle elements. Lightsaber combat is fun and satisfyingly effective. A variety of unlockable combos, flourishes, and midair juggles, combined with a semiautomatic defense system,
mixes up the action; but a lack of any primary ranged weapons means you'll often be caught slowly advancing on groups of enemies equipped with unblockable projectiles. Adding to the frustration is most enemies' ability to interrupt your attack animations and score hits while you're knocked down. This can lead to lots of cheap deaths, especially on the game's higher difficulty settings. But the real stars of TFU are the upgradeable Force Powers, offensive and defensive Force attacks (including lightsaber throws and lighting strikes) used to augment combat and solve basic puzzles. Despite a finicky targeting system (the game often likes to choose attack points for
you), these Powers combine seamlessly with your arsenal of melee attacks, creating opportunities to chain together devastating combos and kill strings. Style points, which are awarded for creative combat and environmental destruction, can be cashed in for upgraded Force abilities and character attributes. Improving yours stats becomes essential later in the game as enemies become more pervasive and attack in larger numbers.

Some rather mindless Quick Time Events (timed button-pressing minigames) are employed to finish off powerful enemies and wrap up boss encounters; but a failsafe system that lets you instantly retry botched QTEs strips these moments of any real challenge. This bit of handholding seems especially odd next to the game’s unforgiving, rage-inducing highest difficulty setting. Swarms of overpowered enemies will quickly surround and overwhelm the player, leading to an endless repetition of unfair deaths; and don't even get me started on the boss fights. Believe me, I enjoy a challenge (and the satisfaction of unlocking an elite Achievement) as much as the next hardcore gamer, but it's tough to feel like a badass Sith apprentice when you're being habitually dispatched by clusters of torch-wielding Jawas. An occasionally unintuitive checkpoint system and inattentive camera round out the game’s major flaws; expect to sit through the
same meandering cutscenes when you repeatedly die just inside of a new area.

In addition to the single-player campaign, TFU offers a series of throw-away training room challenges. This lack of mode variety isn't especially problematic, as the gameplay doesn't exactly lend itself to multiplayer deathmatch. (A two-player, online co-op campaign mode could have been fun, but might easily have unbalanced boss fights.) Dedicated players can redo missions to collect hidden Jedi Holocrons (which unlock special costumes and lightsaber mods) and complete
secondary objectives, max out their attributes, or search the final level for an alternate, non-canon ending. Progressing through the campaign opens up a series of Extras including character and object profiles and a theater to view all of the game’s cutscenes. Promised DLC, already included with the Wii, PS2, and PSP versions of the game, should help extend the title’s lifespan. But for anyone not brave—or masochistic—enough to attempt TFU’s higher difficulties, there may be a disappointing lack of replayability here. These problems probably don’t constitute enough of an argument to dissuade Star Wars fanatics from buying the game, as the story and production values
alone are likely sufficient to satisfy series diehards. But everyone else is better off sticking to a rental.

Score: 3.5/5.0

After diving a short distance into the book, this world didn't look so new to me. I had the nagging feeling that I had seen this world before. As I read and Eddings went into depth concerning the cultures that inhabited the world of The Dreamers it seemed that these cultures had been present in his previous series. The Maag pirates in the book appeared to me to be a mix of Chereks from the Belgariad and Thalesians from the Elenium series. Disconcerted by this fact I decided to concentrate on the aspect of the story that Eddings had always done best, character development.

David Eddings was asked what made his books so successful and he replied, "Characters. My people are as real as I can make them." After reading a David Eddings book you come away with the sense that you have read about, not some characters, but a group of friends. Eddings was a
master at creating camaraderie between his characters that made the story fun and filled with inside jokes. In The Elder Gods it appears that Eddings tried to create this feeling, but again it seems familiar. Not only are the inside jokes recycled, but so are the characters. In The Elder Gods there is a girl who is actually a goddess. She is obsessed with being held and giving kisses. While a sign of affection this tendency is also a ploy to get what she wants. The description I just gave could be taken and applied to the character Aphrael from Edding's earlier series The Elenium.

For his final series I am sad to say that Eddings relied less on creating new characters and cultures, but instead relied on his standard stock characteristics developed in his earlier works. While I
believe that anyone who has read Eddings' past work will be disappointed in this book I would not want to turn off anyone who is unfamiliar with Eddings. This book could be used as a springboard into Eddings’ classics. We were all richer for David Eddings’ creative influence, and he will be missed.

The finale did leave us something—an onslaught of trailers promising more. Fans in the know had heard rumblings but were treated to the trailer for not only "The Plan," a two-hour stand-alone movie chronicling series' events from the Cylon perspective, but also the long-awaited first scenes of prequel series Caprica. Casual viewers may find themselves waiting until January 2010 for more; that's when SyFy (the new moniker of the SciFi Channel) will begin airing the series. But the show made its debut in April on DVD, Blu-ray and digital download. The series stars Eric Stoltz, Esai Morales and Magda Aponowicz set in the colonies 58 years before the cylon war we've heard so much about.

In a world intoxicated with its own success, technology looks to be taking a dangerous turn. In the first few scenes we see teenagers entranced with boundary-bending virtual technology and a robot as a mundane household servant. At its core Caprica is a story about two families with a somewhat intertwined destiny. Daniel Greystone is a businessman, robotics by trade, at the top of his game. Joseph Adama, yes, THE Joseph Adama, we know is a lawyer working in Caprica City, a flourishing metropolitan area that recalls most futuristic depictions of city life, minus any grit or grime. Early on a tragic accident claims the lives of a few of their family members, inciting the events that will lead to… well, we know what happens eventually.

Overall I'm not generally a fan of prequels. There's something about the origin story that just doesn't work for me when we already know the outcome. But this is where Caprica stands apart. Not only does it establish a mythology that while not conflicting with the BSG time stream also blazes new ground, but, by episodes end, a familiar endoskeleton is already in the picture as a major player. If you were a fan of BSG, you'll probably be a fan of Caprica. While the parent series explored aspects of religion, war and politics, this offspring promises a little of the same (terrorists of the one, true god) with more to build on while asking us the ultimate question—what exactly does it mean to be human?

Pan's Labyrinth

Almost the entire movie takes place in the real world which is violent and deadly and scary in its own right. Clearly the violence is used for shock value to contrast from the fantasy elements in the Ofelia storyline. It's this theme that carries the film. While Ofelia is running around doing all these magical tasks, she asks the adults about Fauns and Fairies to which they reply they used to believe in them when they were children, but not any more. Guillermo del Toro tells a thought-provoking tale about the lose of childhood innocence.

Admittedly there is nothing intrinsically wrong with the movie, but it is so lost in the fairy tale theme that the characters are more caricatures than actual people. While the movie is following a theme, for all intents and purposes it skates melodrama pretty closely.

Certainly this is not a movie for everyone and definitely not for children. There is significant message for adults to appreciate here. Sadly, after that there is little more that needs to be said about the film.

Picking up a few years after the infamous D day, a small group of humans survive and attempt to battle Skynet, the machines that have taken over the world. John Conner, now a revered leader of the resistance movement, is still listening to the tapes his mother left him, and is believed to be the Messiah to some of the remaining humans. (Note John Conner's initials, J.C., and the Christ parallel becomes pretty interesting). There is also a very great character in the film named Marcus Wright, and he has a very important role to play. The plot follows the band of humans in battle against Skynet and its early versions of Terminators, and the action and post-apocalyptic setting does not disappoint. In the film, John Conner is very concerned about his future father, Kyle Reese, and his safety, and this works very well for the plot of the film. In the first film, it was Kyle who had to protect an unborn John, and now the roles have become reversed and John must protect his young father. To my surprise, the film remained very true to it’s franchise, and this one thing that I enjoyed in the film. Though Mr. Arnold Schwarzenegger did not have a starring role in this film, like the previous films, the film was able to create a worthy addition to the Terminator franchise, and it even had many great homages to the previous films. It was apparent that the filmmakers had great affection for the previous films, and also a great vision for directing sci-fiction and action.

Not only was the plot interesting, the action very entertaining, the film true to it's original, but the characters weren't bad either. Marcus Wright is an exceptional character, and Christian Bale's John Conner wasn't bad either. The biggest complaint I hear about this film is about Bale’s low, raspy Clint Eastwood-type voice, which Bale also used for the Batman character in the recent films of that franchise. This voice of Bale, however, did not bother me at all, and I actually liked it. Even if I did find the voice to be annoying, which I didn't, it couldn't take away from the overall awesomeness of this film.

Something I like about Terminator: Salvation is that truly withholds it's brand name. The new Star Trek, albeit somewhat entertaining, was a "Star Trek" film. This new Terminator film, however, was a "Terminator" film.

It works as a great new adaptation of a great story that has been around for along time. It adds a modern flare and vision, but retains the same qualities that made it predecessors, like Terminator 2: Judgment Day, a great film. If you are in the mood for a good action film with a great science- fiction plot, the I would recommend Terminator: Salvation, especially if you enjoyed it’s predecessors. This franchise, in my opinion can say, "I’ll be back" a couple more times, there is still much space left for future films in the series. Terminator: Salvation is a saving a grace for it's franchise, at least in my opinion.

Hopefully all that's passed. what's most unfortunate is that overwhelming pile of library books? not a lot of winners. sigh. Just like last summer, all I wanted to do was read favorites that I already own. so i did.

and cooking? sure, been doing plenty of that when the mercury isn't boiling out of the thermometer, but not much in the way of recipes: whirl up some pesto in the food processesor, toss it with some pasta and grilled chicken or shrimp. my Basil plant is out of control, I've made pesto 3 times already!  and next week I'll be swimming in ripened tomatoes. Can you say Caprese?

I don't enjoy saying that books weren't winners, and maybe they just weren't winners for me. so many losers in a row however, got me mighty discouraged.  Lessons learned: don't keep saying "add that to my ILL list" in conversation with the nice librarian, and what your buddies at the library like you might not like.

Declare, by Tim Powers - a cold war spy story with some occult thrown in. Powers does occult far better than he does spy. The book takes place in 1941, when Andrew Hale is a British Agent who infiltrates the ComIntern in Paris, meets up with Kim Philby, and all sorts of strange things start the happen, and in the 1960s, when Andrew is reactivated to find out exactly what happened to Philby. A metal ankh Andrew wears saves his life more than once, a strange half human creatures he meets around Mt Ararat begin to expose the truth to him. If you know your biblical mythology, you know where this is going. and it is, but it isn't.  Powers has the gift for turning pockets of forgotten time into the best story you ever heard. unfortunatly, Declare is not the best example thereof. The beginning of the book was great, the end was excellent, but the middle was muddled and suffered from putdownableness.

The Stress of her Regard, by Tim Powers - far better than Declare, and the enjoyment faults were all mine. Taking place in the early 1800's, we start with Michael Crawford who is about to marry the beautiful Julia.  Julia is thrilled to leave behind her provincial family and her clingy yet antisocial twin sister. The couple is married, and in the morning, Crawford is horrified to find bloody Julia, brutally murdered, lying beside him in bed. Knowing he will be found guilty of murder, Crawford runs.  Meanwhile,  Percy Shelley and Lord Byron are up to their regular shenanigans, wooing women then leaving them, enjoying themselves in Europe, and getting involved in secret societies.  Crawford eventually hooks up with them only to learn that Julia was killed by a lamia, or vampire, and who now sees Crawford as her legal husband. And she is very jealous, and will kill anyone who shows loves for Crawford. Already involved with Shelly and Byron, the Lamia is slowing killing their families and loved ones. The only way to kill the lamia is to do so while the Graie (remember them from Mythology? three old hags who shared one eye?) are awake, but blind.  I wish I had paid more attention to literature class in high school, so i could have known more about the livse of Shelley and Byron before reading this. Sure, i know Mary Shelley, who doesn't, but I never read her husband. The Stress of her Regard is a great book for students of literature and mythology, and a good book for everyone else.

Hominids, by Robert Sawyer - the easiest, quickest, and least cerebral read of the group. It's not an insult to Sawyer when I say this book isn't cerebral, it's just that unlike Powers, Sawyer connects all the dots for the reader. All you have to do is read, he'll do all the thinking for you.  THe premise of Hominids is great - through a quantum computing experiment gone wrong, a portal is opened to a parallel universe in which Neanderthals are the primary hominid, and homo sapiens were wiped out generations ago. The Neanderthals lean towards hunting gathering rather than agriculture, which along with a strictly maintained population size, makes their world very much in peace with nature and the earth. The Neanderthal earth is Sawyer's ideal world: everyone is happy, everyone is safe, no one is unemployed or hungry, no one is cruel or greedy, there is very little crime, there is culture, but no religion.  A perfect vehicle for Sawyer to preach about all that is wrong with homo sapiens and our society. This is where no thinking is required on the place of the reader, because Sawyer will bash you over the head with his "Neanderthals are the perfect peaceful creature, and you horrible disgusting humans killed them all and did a million other horrible things!" again and again and again, until you are blue in the face.  All that said, this was a good, easy read, which was much appreciated after those two Powers novels that made my brain nearly melt. This series has three books, and I might just read the next one, just to see the damage Sawyer can do. Not the best reason to read a book, but hey.

speaking of my brain melting, I borrowed a copy of Neal Stephenson's Quicksilver from a friend, and I'm already running into familiar names: Enoch Root, the Waterhouse family. . . not to mention a 10 year old Ben Franklin.  This book is going to kick my ass, and I verily think I'm going to enjoy it.  Having survived his Cryptonomicon, at least now I know what to expect with a Stephenson style brain melting ass kicking.

Transformers, Revenge of the Fallen

The story begins with Sam Witwicky leaving his parents home, to go off to college, without his guardian Autobot, Bumblebee. He is trying, in effect, to lead a normal life.

That goal becomes difficult, however, when he finds a shard of 'the cube,' from the first Transformers movie, on his jacket. When he touches the shard with his bare hands, he is inflicted with images and symbols that he does not understand.

With the newfound, and unwanted information in his head, he goes off to college, only to be pursued by Decepticons, who desperately need the knowledge, to create more of their kind. The Autobots, along with our human characters, set out on a mission to find the source of power that Sam's symbols are leading him to. Unfortunately, no one can read them. This is when they learn about the Primes. They also learn that transformers have been on earth for a lot longer than anyone could have imagined.

I would like to have only good things to say about Revenge of the Fallen. And it is very true that there are plenty of good things to be said about the movie. I watched the original show as a child, and really enjoyed the first movie. Being a huge fan of Shia Labeouf didn't hurt matters either.  However, there were some glaring issues with the movie, that I feel must be acknowledged.  Hopefully they will fix them for any future movies to come.

The writing of the story line was wonderful. The story was true to the original series, and to the previous film. However, whoever was in charge of dialog was awful. There are a few truly great lines, but they are few and far between. I suspect they were an accident. And I'm not complaining about the use of lines from the old cartoon. Some things, like Optimus Prime saying "Let's Roll," are overused and trite, but to be expected.

Of course, the biggest issue I had with the movie was 'The Twins,' a set of annoying, racist Autobots, that were intended for comic relief, but were nothing more than a wince-inducing example of harmful, and untrue ethnic stereotypes.

I was also disappointed to see that the three new Autobots that were women, in the form of three incredibly cool looking motorcycles, were barely in the movie at all. I would have liked to see a great deal more of them.

The one thing about the movie that I could not find fault in was the acting. Every actor did a superb job, especially Shia. And the music was fantastic. The new song by Linkin Park, New Divide, is incredible, and I've been playing it nonstop.

All in all, the movie is worth watching.  It's not thought provoking, but it is a lot of fun.

Two years ago, shortly after Marzi started working a coffeehouse called Genius Loci, she peeked into a secret magical door, suffered a nervous breakdown, and dropped out of art school. These days life is working out pretty good for Marzi – she has recovered from her fear of opening doors, and spends her days and nights surrounded by her artist friends and the beautiful murals on the walls of the coffeehouse. Even her quirky underground comic The Strange Adventures of Rangergirl, is taking off. Rangergirl travels through a fantasical old west, righting that which was wronged, and fighting her eternal enemy, the Outlaw.

At the beginning of the summer, Marzi and her best friend Lindsay meet Jonathan, who has moved to town to study the coffeehouse murals, done by famous artist Garamond Ray, who mysteriously dissapeared after an earthquake about 15 years ago. As must happen in urban fantasy stories like this, it isn't long before people begin acting strange. After an untimely death, Jane is reborn as a mud woman, and becomes obsessed with the Goddess that is trapped in the coffeehouse. Another art student, Beej, starts living on the streets and making sacrafices to the Earthquake God. Meanwhile, Lindsay's girlfriend Alice leaves town as a cure for her pyromaniac urges.

Laying it on a little heavy handed, Pratt makes sure we know something is very wrong in the city of Santa Cruz, and Marzi and the coffeehouse are at the center of it. The being trapped in (under? behind?) the coffeehouse is a primal god of chaos, and of destruction. After seducing Jane, Beej, and finally Jonathan to his cause, the creature is able to escape his prison. As the chosen guardian, only Marzi has the power to trap him again. Everyone who comes into contact with the “godlet” sees what they want, and for Marzi, it means seeing Rangergirl's foe, the Outlaw.

Marzi has to learn exactly what it means to be the guardian, and how to save her friends and trap or destroy the Outlaw one final time. As Marzi's powers and perceptions grow, the murals in the coffeehouse change, in reflection of her imagination to take on more of a Wild West feel. Marzi takes the opportunity to act out her alter ego Rangergirl fantasies, and save the day. There was so much potential for Pratt to just go nuts here, he's got living murals, trap doors, crazy acolytes, a psychotic godlet, a mysterious oracle, and a curious and resilient heroine. Unfortunately, Pratt just seemed to plod along, being in turns predictable and inconsistent. The showdown of the millenia that I was hoping for at the end turned out to be, well, not so much.

It's not the book is badly written, it's actually quite nicely written. Well paced, friendly characters, nice sense of humor, budding romance. It's just that I've experienced (through books and video games) this urban fantasy of local girl becomes reluctlant hero to save the world and must travel into the medicine lands story so many times that my expectations are pretty high by now. If you've never read Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, or other various urban fantasy authors, or never played video games like Longest Journey, Rangergirl may be your first foray into the medicine lands, into the inbetween, and you'll probably enjoy yourself. However, this book falls short of it's potential when judged against other urban fantasy authors.

On a personal note, a friend recommended Pratt's Hart & Boot, and when we couldn't find that at the library, he said “Try Rangergirl. It's not Pratt's best, but it's pretty good”. And that's the best way to describe this book: not the best you'll read, but pretty good.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it's happened. I have discovered the true meaning of the phrase "I got too many books from the library".  but it wasn't my fault, i swear! i was chatting with one of the librarians, and he was putting a book or two on my interlibrary loan account, and i lost track of my tab, and I'd already gotten some stuff at the other library and browsed around before I even remembered to check my interlibrary loan at the desk!!

the husband has promised to keep me away from libraries (except to return stuff!!) for the next 3 weeks at least.  that's a tall order, this is me we're talkin' about.

Forever War, by Joe Haldeman
Forever Peace, by Joe Haldeman
Declare by Tim Powers
The Stress of Her Regard, by Tim Powers
Hart & Boot, by Tim Pratt
Looking for Jake, by China Mieville
Hominids, by Robert Sawyer
Sword & Citadel, by Gene Wolfe

that's a lotta reading.  at to top it off, I got an advanced reading copy of a new Larry Niven, and since i didn't feel like i had enough to read to begin with, I felt the need to pull down one of my Mom's old books on biblical commentary. go figure.

But OK, let's put on the ol' Critical Thinking Cap—at least, the Critical Thinking sun visor, more appropriate for summertime projects. Star Trek: The Next Generation: Season Three: The Review: Colon: Awesomeness.

According to one of the bonus feature interviews on Disc Seven, the producers and writers of TNG saw Season Three as a kind of transitional awakening—some of the series' supposedly finest episodes transpired in this season, and there was a shift in thinking about the potential focus of the show (from alien-of-the-week space adventures to more thoughtful, character-driven plots) that led to the new stride and ultimate glory of the series as manifested beginning in Season Four.

Well, OK.

Upon viewing the first episode of the season, my thoughts turned toward the importance of guest stars—oh, how they make or break. "Evolution" is pretty broken in general, but man, Dr. Stubbs, you couldn't be less pleasant. Don't remember this episode? Wesley Crusher, that scamp, accidentally lets a bunch of science experiment nanites free on the ship, and then they get sentient, and disrupt this visiting scientist d-bag's own science experiment, and he tries to kill the poor lil' guys, and so they try to kill him, and blah blah blah, happily ever after. I believe this is the first script by Michael Piller, who of course went on to play a dominant role in TNG's writing and production, but man. He leans heavy on comparing Wes to Dr. Stubbs, who is a driven, bitter old guy with a passion for baseball, a comparison that never makes much sense, except insofar as 1) both young Mr. Crusher and Dr. Stubbs are intelligent overachievers, and 2) the script insists over and over again that Wes is pushing himself too hard and isn't making time for such and such adolescent such and such, whatever, we'll forget about it by the next episode. I'm not sure what the point of such a comparison is, except as a cautionary tale for Wes, because as I noted, Dr. Stubbs is a douchebag, pretty front to back. Which brings me to my point about guest stars: Ken Jenkins, perhaps you've done fine work otherwise, but I could've done without your one-note bellicosity for 46 minutes of my life.

Compare this to the fabfuckingtastic guest appearance later in the season by Saul Rubinek, who plays a dastardly space trader who kidnaps Data in the episode "The Most Toys" with such gusto and aplomb that it totally makes up for an otherwise thin plot. Kivas Fajo is just so immoral and so OK with it, so completely selfish and loving life that it's a joy to watch him prance around and indulge his quirks and desires and threaten the lives of those around him with no source of power at all but his wealth and his lusty assumption of power—guest stars: they can make or break you.

From "Evolution," the season rolled forward to "The Ensigns of Command," which finds Data trying to convince some dumbass colonists that they ought to evacuate, no matter how fond they are of their irrigation system, because otherwise they're going to be slaughtered by a vastly more powerful alien race. It's one of those episodes that seems to deserve some credit for dealing with a relevant topic—human attachment to place at the expense of reason or safety—but on the other hand, and I suppose this happens when you're unnecessarily confining all of your themes and plots to self-contained singular 46-minute parcels, the topic tends to be treated so simplistically as to seem absurd. Your claim on this planet is false; the rightful owners are coming to reclaim it; if they find you here, they'll slaughter you—an overreaction, perhaps, but still the case. We'll help you evacuate. Or you could... whine and talk about the pride of your forefathers and refuse to leave.

This episode is noteworthy because a girl gets a crush on Data because she's attracted to his special android nature, not in spite of it or while willfully ignoring it, and I bring this up only because in Season Four Data has a disastrous attempt at romance with the World's Most Vapid Starfleet Officer, and while watching that episode ("In Theory") I thought back to this episode and was like, "Data, you really should look for a girl who likes you for who you are. Like that colonist chick from last season."

Moving on.

We learn that pacifism only leads to heartache ("The Survivors"), Religion=Regression ("Who Watches the Watchers?"), little kids emoting can't carry a television episode even in the 24th century ("The Bonding"), sometimes you just have to destroy an archaeological relic or two ("Booby Trap"), and even sworn enemies can cooperate and get along ("The Enemy")! Then Troi falls in love with a charming asshole ("The Price") and Riker falls in love with a crazy bitch ("The Vengeance Factor").

Then there's "The Defector," which features a fine guest star in James Sloyan, and actually treats a man's military and political defection with subtlety. A Romulan defects to provide the Federation with information that he thinks will forestall a war; he maintains his patriotism despite this "traitorous" action—it is his belief that such a war would be ruinous to the empire he loves, and so he will take whatever steps necessary to prevent it. It's a thoughtful look at loyalty and sacrifice, with a sad twist at the end.

From there we get a nicely "Star Treky" episode about a planet not as ready for Federation membership as it seems, featuring James Cromwell as a guest star ("The Hunted"). By "Star Treky" I mean, there are aliens, there are broad moral lessons, and there's some smug satisfaction at the end. Somehow, some episodes like these are good, and others are bad, like the next episode, "The High Ground," that explores that oh-so-overlooked trope (Overlooked trope? That's not possib ... waaaaaait, I see ...) that "one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter." But can't we all just get along?  Shouldn't we just stop the violence? Yes. Unless pacifism only leads to heartache (see "The Survivors.")

At this point, it's time for a break. Send in Q!

Is there enough good to say about John de Lancie? Not so much a villain as an annoying house guest, he raises the character of Q above crowd-pleasing gimmick to become a worthy match even for Captain Picard/Patrick Stewart. In "Deja Q," Q has been stripped of his powers and is presented naked on the Enterprise bridge, a hapless and mewling human being. A troublesome distraction in the midst of a very run-of-the-mill peril-of-the-week, Q finds a friend, or at least a non-enemy, in Data, and is pushed into a good look at humanity and his own character. Q's self-honesty and de Lancie's acting is great; when he is forced by his own conscience to confess his shame at his cowardice to Picard it feels like an earned self-revelation, even though Q's only had to soul-search for half an hour or so of TV time.

Man, I love the Q episodes. But who doesn't? Anyway, he gets his powers back, thank goodness for future seasons.

"A Matter of Perspective" is a fun procedural jaunt—sort of Star Trek: Criminal Intent. Riker's accused of murder, and with the help of the holodeck, we can watch the events from everyone's perspectives—his, the grieving, whoring widow, the scientific assistant... good times. Don't worry, Riker didn't do it.

Then—holy awesome writing, Batman!—back to back we get "Yesterday's Enterprise" and "The Offspring."

Personally, I never missed Tasha Yar, though I do concur that her death in Season One was lame (maybe that's what you get for the folly of "pursuing your film career"). But then, Star Trek hasn't always been good about killing off the folk who, for foolish reasons, wish to leave its warm embrace: wouldn't it have been SOOO much better if Worf had chosen his duty over his wife in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine's "Change of Heart," rather than the very banal death of Jadzia Dax later at the hands of Crazy Possessed Gul Dukat (never mind the absurdly bad judgment involved in ruining such a great villain with Crazy)?  Anyway, my point here is that Tasha gets her day in the sun—regrets much, Denise Crosby?—when the Enterprise C comes through a time warp and to no one's surprise but Guinan's, the Enterprise D is suddenly a battleship, at war with the Klingon Empire.

Sometimes time traveling is lame, and sometimes its awesome, and I'm sure you other fans remember that this time, it's awesome. It turns out that the Enterprise C's ultimately fatal role in a battle between the Klingons and Romulans was a hinge point in time, and with their retirement from battle when they come through the time rift, the course of history is changed—war between the Federation and the Klingons! And it's not going well for the Federation. But since no one ever thinks they are living in the alternate universe, no one thinks this is wrong—but Guinan, beloved space witch of mystery, knows, and luckily Picard listens to her. Time is set straight and Tasha Yar, who learns that she was not meant to be, goes back in time and gets a hero's death at last as she helps the doomed Enterprise C set the timeline to rights.

OR DOES SHE???!?!?!?!?!!?!!

Anyway, more on that in later seasons. The point is, "Yesterday's Enterprise" uses sci-fi plot points to great effect in a character-driven narrative, and that's what I like to see.

I also like to see Data being unfairly persecuted and making Self Discoveries.

An abiding theme of TNG was the contradiction between Data's protestation, "I am android. I have no emotions," and the clear, constant evidence to the contrary. Had I had the chance, I would have liked to ask Data, "What do you think love IS?" By this I mean, for years on TNG, Data routinely enacted the manifestations of all of our best emotions—he was loyal, thoughtful, generous, self-sacrificing, supportive, fun, self-sufficient, and undemanding while holding high standards. If I had ever dated Data, he'd be the second-best person I ever dated—by A LOT. Thinking that emotion is significant only insofar as your personal, internal experience of it is solipsistic and reductionist—anger, like fear, is pointless unless it drives action; love is worthless unless it can be directed positively outward, and in fact all feelings when confined to an individual's inner isolation can turn destructive, even feelings of love and friendship. The idea that humans must be complete in isolation—that we must "go off on our own to 'find ourselves,'" that we must "love ourselves before we can love someone else," et cetera and ad nauseum—seems a relationship- and community-destroying symptom of the breakdown of our attachments to place and household, a breakdown driven by industrialism and post-industrialism, capitalism, and the fatally flawed hierarchy of institutions making their money in the present by the selling nothing but the future as they preach the doctrine of Progress at the expense of experience, history, and understanding (tip o' the pin to Wendell Berry). My point is, Data didn't know that he had achieved something many humans have abandoned at the cost of their perpetual loneliness and distress: the USE of emotion for positive action in his community and the building of meaningful relationships between he and his "loved" ones, even though he claimed the emotion wasn't there. Well, fine, Data, but you're still doing better than most humans as they wallow around and feeeeeel things and then, those feelings endlessly mulled over but compartmentalized away from any purpose in the world, go about their emotionally destructive, isolated little lives.

I'm sorry, I got off track, there.

In "The Offspring," Data builds himself a daughter. Starfleet promptly tries to remove the new android from his care, apparently forgetting that Data has been legally awarded the rights of personhood clear back in Season One's "The Measure of a Man," and, one would think, therefore, the right not to have his children taken from him on whims. As a sidebar, so many episodes of TNG, though not usually explicitly, hinged on what were actually legal points: we don't get to know much about the justice system and legal codes of the Federation in Star Trek, but it is apparent in many of the show's narratives that legal adjudication would settle the matter at hand. I'm not necessarily saying I miss the spin-off Star Trek & Order, but I am saying that rewatching these shows, it is clear to me that the Enterprise needed permanent, on-board legal counsel.

I'll be done with law school in three years: call me, Jean-Luc!

Again, back to the matter at hand. TNG did another casting call for douchebags, and came up with a humdinger in Nicholas Coster as Admiral Haftel. Again, since we've only got an episode, he has to embody the unyielding, douchey counterpoint until the very end of the episode when he suddenly has a change of heart (which is rendered moot, so congratulations, you're still a douche). Haftel wants to take Data's android daughter, Lal, back to Starfleet to be studied and developed, believing Data incapable of raising her; meanwhile, Data leads her on the path to sentience, and is generally heartwarming, but not in a smarmy way. Not to ruin anything for you, but Lal dies at the end because of some sort of programming error. And though Data professes to feel no grief ... well, fuck that. I mean, really. It's an emotional episode, and it invites you to consider the nature of family and the use of emotion, and think about human rights, and who has them, and who can take them away from whom. It's also the first episode directed by Jonathan Frakes, who later went on to direct a great deal, of course, and also directed the movie Star Trek: First Contact, by far one of the franchise's best films. So. Yay!

"The Offspring" is followed by "Sins of the Father," another noteworthy episode because it introduced the plot line of Worf's discommendation from the Klingon Empire when he accepts the false dishonor of his father, who is accused of being a traitor to the Romulans at the Khitomer Massacre that orphaned Worf, a blow Worf accepts to try to halt the fractured Klingon council's march to civil war. It wasn't Mogh, of course, that was the traitor, it was Duras, whose son and family is powerful enough to frame another soul for their dishonor. Worf also learns he has a brother, Kurn, in this episode. What's important about this, apart from all the Klingon political maneuvering, if you're interested in Klingon politics (and who isn't?), is my earlier use of the term "plot line"—the plot of this episode is picked up again later! It was the first time that Star Trek felt empowered to abandon the stand-alone episode format, and thank God. Eventually, Duras assassinates the leader of the High Council, Picard oversees the selection of the new Klingon leader, Worf kills Duras for killing K'Ehleyr, his son's mother, the House of Duras attempts to overthrow Gowron, Worf and Kurn make a successful play to regain their honor, et cetera et cetera et cetera. What really matters is that TNG felt emboldened to remember what had happened before, and this eventually led to great, long-running story arcs. In 1990 Worf gets a discommendation from the Klingon Empire, by 2007 you can't miss an episode of Battlestar Galactica and ever be able to watch the show again!  Science Fiction on TV is saved, hooray!

Following this, Picard gets kidnapped ("Allegiance") for an alien behavioral experiment, and not-quite-right Picard doppelganger gets to lead a rousing chorus in Ten Forward. Then Captain Picard gets to go on vacation to Risa ("Captain's Holiday"), where he meets and gets it on with Vash, a sexy, dishonest archaeologist—this episode is noteworthy almost entirely for Jean-Luc's little tiny vacation shorts. "Tin Man" deals with a lost and lonely intergalactic starship and how it finds a friend in an obnoxious, psychologically damaged Betazoid—good riddance. "Hollow Pursuits" introduces us to the painfully awkward engineer Reginald Barclay, and I'm glad, because honestly, it was sort of irritating to think that in the future, everyone's got their shit together—I mean, who can believe that? Now, the fact that in the here and now they have medication for people who have crippling social anxiety disorder and apparently they've forgotten the formula in the 24th century has to be overlooked, but Reg's holodeck programs include Deanna Troi as the Goddess of Empathy and a MiniRiker, so I'm willing to do some overlooking.

We've already talked about "The Most Toys," and again, I must repeat how awesome Saul Rubinek is. Following this is "Sarek," featuring the return of Spock's dad, who is in declining faculty and needs Picard's mind-melding help to complete a final diplomatic mission. There are so many episodes wherein the diplomatic mission is SOOOO crucial and I cannot help every time but to think, "Why haven't we heard of this SOOOO crucial diplomatic conflict before? And why will we never hear of it again, since it's SOOOO crucial?" I realize these are stupid questions to spend my Star Trek brain time on, but still. Regardless, this episode of moving in the way it treats the degeneration of age—how mortifying, how terrifying, to be brought low by your own creeping incapacity; how utterly saddening to simply be abandoned by yourself. Mark Leonard is comforting to watch in his old, beloved role, and Patrick Stewart gets to pull out some of those Shakespearean acting chops when Picard is channeling Sarek's runaway emotions so the diplomat can complete his (crucial) mission.

"Sarek" is followed up by the Ferengi romp "Menage a Troi," featuring Majel Barrett Roddenberry as Troi's overbearing mother Lwaxana. I always cringe at the old Ferengi episodes, because over the course of Deep Space Nine Quark and his family did so much to expand the race into a rich and important source of insight—the Ferengi were more like present day humanity than any other race in Star Trek, including the humans, and even if they were still better than us in many ways, it was instructive to see Quark's supposedly "smaller" life unfold alongside those of all the Heroes of the Federation that populated the space station because really, we're mostly all leading Quark-sized lives ourselves (if we're lucky—I never got to fight the Jem'Hadar). I realize that Star Trek's intent was to postulate the future of humanity as being one of peace and reconciliation, but in point of fact, every week can't—and to my mind, shouldn't be—a musing on our bright future. To make stories relevant to the lives of people trapped in the 20th and 21st centuries, one must address the current human condition—the Ferengi of DS9 were good for that: they were greedy, petty, cynical, and frequently close-minded. But they were also self-assured, they kept faithfully to their own moral code, they cared for each other in a recognizably mutually frustrated way, they were wise enough to be self-preserving but they were brave enough to step up when it mattered; they were better models for modern humanity, perhaps, then the distant-future model of humanity Captain Sisko and his ilk presented. I mean, really, America's not going to get in line with the brave new world any time soon—we live greedy and selfish like a religion. Anyway, with all that in mind, seeing the Ferengi treated as mean-spirited, somewhat bumbling caricatures of Ebenezer Scrooge is boring, so let's move on.

Onwards to "Transfigurations." To quote from The Star Trek Encyclopedia, Updated and Expanded Edition: "Beverly Crusher saves a mysterious fugitive who is transforming into a noncorporeal energy being." The rest of his people weren't ready and so were hunting him and his fellow transforming folk down. Considering that in modern times the hierarchical financial and government institutions that control our education, our healthcare, our food supply, and 95% of our media hold entire nations as well as most of us as individuals in permanent vassalage by ensuring our overall helplessness through forced skill specialization, pricing the necessities of existence out of reach of most people, and making debt practically inescapable, it's not surprising to me at all that the Powers That Be on Mr. Noncorporeal's world were a little unwilling to see people evolve out of their clutches.

And that's it.

Except, of course, for "The Best of Both Worlds, Part 1."

While writing the rest of this opus I'd been wondering whether or not to address this final episode of Season Three in this piece, or wait and discuss it in totality with it's other half when I get around to discussing Season Four. I think I'll wait. It should be taken as a whole, and "The Best of Both Worlds" is actually better seen as a jumping off point for Season Four and what came after, I think, than as a coda for Season Three. So let's leave it with the conspiracy to keep us all in perpetual thrall to the powerful.

Oh, Nostalgia! On one hand, it's damaging—I love Star Trek: The Next Generation so much inside my own head, remembering it but not watching it, that it can in some ways be disappointing to go back and watch it, and have to realize that, Oh, noes, sentient nanites! What is the ship to do? Perhaps Wesley Crusher will save the day. But despite these flaws, I still love TNG. And here's why.

At the same time we had Season Three in our house, my husband and I also had Disc 3 of the final season of Battlestar Galactica sitting around to watch. We'd sit down in the evening to watch something before bed, and we'd be faced with a choice: Battlestar or Star Trek. Now, of course, no one can sing enough praise for Battlestar Galactica. The acting ranges from good to fantastic; it's beautifully shot, with tremendous production values and great effects; it's plot is pleasingly complicated; it's world is satisfyingly rich and complex; it addresses grand themes like faith and destiny without forsaking the small human dramas of press versus politician or workers versus managers or sons versus fathers; and it resonates with current political and social problems easily, without hamhanded preaching or big winks and nods in the viewer's general direction.

But.

Every day on Battlestar Galactica is literally the worst day ever. EVERY. DAY. WORST. DAY. EVER. Watching it is exhausting. And depressing.

But Star Trek: The Next Generation is a clean, well-lit place. There are problems, but they get resolved. People have flaws, but they want to, and strive to, be the best versions of themselves. Occasionally, nothing permanently emotionally damaging happens at all during an episode! And while the new Star Trek movie underwent Battlestar Galacticaification, and Kirk and Spock and everyone else are profoundly emotionally damaged and it's the worst day ever and I guess that's what the kids these days are into, my husband and I still found ourselves, for like, two weeks, reaching for the Star Trek instead of the Battlestar. Because our world is not a clean, well-lit place, but the bridge of Captain Picard's Enterprise is, and I would rather sit there for 46 minutes and enjoy the minor peril handled by competent souls than suffer the dank realities of jeopardy and self-doubt and treachery.

Call me crazy.

~ Sabrina Spiher Robinson

www.facebook.com/sabrinaspiherrobinson

Review for Gene Wolfe's Shadow & Claw (first two books of the Book of the New Sun series: Shadow of the Torturer and Claw of the Conciliator) is on ARWZ.

What cracked me up was I was reading Wolfe's slow paced Shadow & Claw at the same time that i was reading Joe Haldeman's The Accidental Time Machine, which is nothing but fast paced action.  Wow do those two books not go together! Was very jarring to go back and forth!  is my own fault, as i tend to be reading more than one fiction book at a time.

Accidental Time Machine - my first Joe Haldeman, and i wasn't as impressed as I'd hoped. It was a fun, fast, well paced book, but I was hoping for something deeper from this award winning author.  Story follows physics student Matt Fuller, who literally, accidentally creates something that works as a future-only time machine. rigging the machine to an old car, Matt is able to hop about a decade into the future where he finds his girlfriend has left him for a rival, his physics professor has stolen his research, and everything he thought he knew about physics has changed.  When Matt gets in trouble, or bored, he can always hop into the time machine and jump into the future, where he eventually hopes to find the technology to send him back to his own time (Dr. Who? Quantum Leap? "hoping to get back to their own time" - that's gotta be it's own subgenre by now.) This is where the narrative falters: the time machine is nothing more than a plot device for when Haldeman isn't sure what to do.  It was a distraction, as in I knew the moment Matt (or Haldeman) got bored, frustrated, or curious, he was just going to hop into that machine and hit a button.  The little twist at the end was nice, but still, i was a little dissapointed in the book as a whole.

Speaking of Joe Haldeman, Hugo and Nebula award winning author, i just started his Forever War. This is the novel he's famous for, and my expectations are high.

If you've been following this blog, you've know I've been throwing a ton of manga at the wall lately, to see what will stick, and I've come to the conclusion that Ai Yazawa can do no wrong.  I'm still pretty obsessed with the short series Paradise Kiss, and now i've moved onto one of her older series: Nana.

Nana Komatsu is trying to start over in Tokyo - after a few years of falling in love with every guy she meets, she's trying to "be friends first", and maybe have a meaningful relationship. oh yeah, and keep a job, find an affordable apartment, and keep her relationship with Shoji afloat.

Nana Osaki is brokenhearted after her bandmate Ren is invited to join a famous band in Tokyo. trying to make it on her own as a rock musician, she moves to Tokyo and starts a new band while she is still pining for Ren.

the "Nana's" become unlikely best friends, and help each other through their hard times.

Nana in Japanese is another word for the number seven, and can also be used as a girl's first name.  Four volumes into Nana, and it's got humor, sex, relationhips gone bad and good, unrequited love, rock music, and then a little more humor and sexual situations.  This is my kinda Shoji (girl's romantic stories)!

Told as a flash back by the elderly Severian, he is in no hurry to tell his story, and explains to the reader on more than one occasion that he won't be offended if the reader is bored, or chooses not to continue reading his history. Severian, now residing in the royal residence (but as royalty or prisoner, or both, we're not sure) has lived a long life, and knows that although his time may be short, time itself will be around for a long time. The pace of the book is rather slow, but the slow pace allows the reader to become fully absorbed in what is going on, without the distraction of looking for the next action scene. It took me quite a while to get used to the slow pace and the archaic language style, but in the end it was worth it.

Severian's story begins when he is a child, a lowly apprentice in the guild of torturers. Before you start thinking this is one of those horror books full of blood and screaming, it's not. In this world, torture is not only a method of justice, but nearly an art form, and takes years of training and discipline. Some readers have proposed Wolfe used the idea of a professional torturer as shock value to pull readers in, and maybe he did, but any readers looking for shock value will be disapointed.

After being promoted to guild journeyman, one day Severian does the unthinkable – he assists a political prisoner in committing suicide. The punishment for this is death. As a favored student, he is offered exile instead, and given a letter of introduction and a sword, he is sent to the far reaches of the empire, to a small village in need of an executioner. Reminds me of the popular historical novel plot line of the young monk sent away from the monastery to bring the word to a small rural village, and along the way the young monk discovers the world is much larger than he expected. I'm also feeling the need to read back up on Joesph Campbell, as Severian follows his classic hero's journey.

The majority of the novel is Severian's adventures in leaving his home metropolis of Nessus on his way out to the rural country side. And they are exactly that – character building adventures involving a chance encounter with a rebel leader, beautiful women, the accidental acquiring of a magical religious relic, duels, executions (at which Severian performs admirably), a traveling acting troupe, and possible treason. At this rate, he'll never make it to his rural career. His adventures are the best written parts of the book, but not as important as the person they force him to become and the destiny he is unequivocally drawn toward. While reading this I was reminded of Robert Silverberg's Valentine series – the young man who knows he has a powerful destiny, and knows that every step of every day takes him closer, but knows there is no point in rushing things, as his life is predestined, and he will arrive at the proper place at the proper time.

The general plot sound may simple, but it is peppered with Severian's thoughts on the politics and religion of his country, his childhood, his regrets, and his successes, and lush descriptions of the alien wonders of his world. We know "Urth" is a post apocalyptic far future Earth, but will Severian ever figure it out? Will he ever bring his people back to the stars? How did things change so drastically that the citizens of Urth have no idea of their history?

I highly recommend Wolfe's Book of the New Sun series to readers who enjoy epic fantasy, and post apocalyptic tales of the earth of a far future.

In "Tomorrow, When the Demons Come," Cullen Bunn features both the subtle and blatant dangers of jealousy. One can almost taste the death a stranger brings into the life of a farm family in his most complex story, "Remains."  "Granny Kisses" is a revoltingly comical piece that made even my usual stomach of steel warp briefly once or twice.

Rick R. Reed's stories are probably the most varied in terms of style. Through the use of personal notes and flashbacks, he pays homage to Bram Stoker in "Purfleet."  "Moving Toward the Light" uses the vengeance-from-beyond-the-grave theme to remind us that even those who literally end up in the gutter can find their way out again. And, with comic pathos, "Stung" tells the story of a middle-aged woman who can just never get things right.

Once again, David Thomas Lord displays his mastery of setting and atmosphere in his trio. The seemingly monochromatic "The White Room" leads to a startling conclusion. In keeping with his colour scheme, Lord introduces us to the legend of "The Great White Ape" in a story that reminded me of a cross between Poe and Jules Verne. Finally, "Da's Boy" does a great job of reinforcing my suspicion of young children.

I must be honest. I did not warm to J.A. Konrath's writing until I got past "The Confession."  Although I could appreciate his ability to conjure novel ways of mutilating the human body, his story of violence and torture just didn't interest me. On the bright side, "The Necro Files" introduces us to Detective Harry McGlade. He's an arrogant, incompetent, insensitive jerk, but I liked him anyway, in small doses. "Punishment" features another young child facing his fear in another torture tale.  Fortunately, the violence here is a bit more subtle.

Overall, the stories in Like a Chinese Tattoo offer a diverse taste of writings from authors with whose work I was mostly unfamiliar. Most anthologies feature one story from each of their many contributors. I'd recommend Like a Chinese Tattoo to those who appreciate the introduction to newer writers but would like a longer visit with them.

Stephen King

Certain things can't be argued when it comes to his work. The Dark Tower was his opus and one of the best sagas to come along in recent memory. His work adapts well, better than most, to both screen and the pages of comics. But to me, where he has always really shined, is in his short fiction, where the bounds of the medium force his talent into a rare and often powerful focus. His newest collection, Just Before Sunset, is no exception.

As he states in his introduction, this is his return to the form after too long an absence, and his exuberance over that fact comes through loud and clear. The prose is precise and evocative. It is never wordy, never drags and the subject matter ranges from outright horror to subtle depictions of simple humanity.

From the very first tale, King proves that in a good supernatural story, the otherwordly is woven so subtly into the narrative that it feels more like a piece of the backdrop, allowing the reader to focus on the really important stuff. In those like Willa, a sweet, old-fashioned love story with a twist, and perhaps my favorite of the collection, it becomes a way to add emphasis to the underlying themes.  In the Lovecraftian N., he blurs the line between possibility and reason to a terrifyingly uncomfortable degree.

All in all, there will be sleepless nights, to be sure, and there may likely be a few tears shed for the raw humanity on display. King has grown up as an author and expanded his talent for connecting reader with character to the level of true literature, whether it is looking at the fragile nature of reality, comprehending tragedy, both massive and acutely personal, or just plain wanting to dance with your girl forever, Just Before Sunset manages it all.

Beka Cooper is the ancestor of Aly Cooper, whom many of Pierce's readers will remember from Tricksters Queen and Tricksters Choice. It is easy to see that Aly comes by her attitude honestly.

Beka grew up in the darkest, poorest district of Corus, called the Lower District. Her mother was sick, and dying when her boyfriend beat her badly, and took everything of value in the house. Beka followed the man, and hunted him until she found his hideout. Discovering that he was a member of a pack of thieves, one that the local Dogs had been trying to track down for months, she reported him to the Dogs, and wrapped up the tragic crime spree. When the Provost, the man in charge of the Dogs, discovered that it was a little girl with a splash of magic in her who caught the thieves, he moved her and her siblings into his home. Their mother was welcomed as well, but she passed away soon after. 

All of this lead Beka to become a Dog as soon as she was old enough. She is given to a team of senior Dogs named Tunstall Goodwin, the two most well known Dogs in the Lower District. They are set in their ways, and none too happy to be saddled with a Puppy, as trainees are called. But, that's before they realize that their Puppy is very different from her fellow trainees. For one thing, she hears dead spirits that cling to the backs of pigeons. For another, she has a cat named Pounce, who is far more than meets the eye.

Thanks to Beka's special power, it soon becomes apparent that there is more to watch out for in the Lower District than just petty thieves. There is someone lurking in the night, taking children from their beds, and holding them hostage for things of value. Those who don't pay are getting their children back dead, or simply never seeing them again at all.

Finishing this book was disappointing only because the story was over.  I loved it, and can not wait to read the next story about the strong, and intelligent Beka Cooper.

I finished Neil Gaiman's American Gods and love love loved it. I read this book a few years ago, and it is 100 times better the second time around, not in spite of but because you know what's going to happen at the end. In fact, i might go read it again.

I'm still looking for a new Manga series to grab me, so i've been getting the first two volumes of random manga from the library. We'll throw some stuff at the wall and see what sticks.

King of Hell by Ra In-Soo, was suprisingly, a comedy. But not a very good one. Lightly amusing, but artwork left something to be desired. Majeh is a servant of hell, and part of his job is to escort new souls to the underworld. Sarcasm abounds, which i appreciated. Soon Majeh is sent on a quest to banish all evil spirits from his plane. much monster fighting ensues. Is this manga more than just swordfights?

D Gray Man by by Katsura Hoshino. Also a bit of a comedy, but more the dark Trinity Blood type of comedy (as in, not). The steampunk elements of D Gray Man are very cool, and the bad guy, the Millenium Earl is creepily awesome, I shall have to track down some more of this. Main character is Allen, a blonde teenager (who is a carbon copy of Edward Elric, and that is just weird!!) who is an exorcist. Allen has a metal cross burned into his disfigured hand, which makes him a natural adept for exorcisms. After the first 2 volumes I can tell you it's good, but odd. possibly odder than gooder.

Shutterbox, by Tavisha Simons and Rikki Simons.  It's by Americans!  How weird! Megan just graduated high school and can't decide what she wants to do with her life. Work? University? Community college? She doesn't really care.  When she dreams, she ends up at Merridiah University, a sort of multiverse university for the dead who are trained to become muses. Megan has been chosen to be a "Shutterbox exchange student," where she can be a mortal attending the school (and occasionally wake up back in the real world). A little gothica, a little St Lunatic High, this one's got some potential.

The boundaries between life and death are thinning and Martris Drake finds himself the heir to his grandmother’s position as Summoner. He must learn the craft and fill her enormous shoes while surviving an all out assault by his half brother, Jared.

Martris is confronted with a word of caution from the palace spirits, who seem to be dwindling during the kingdom’s Feast of the Departed.  As the celebration commences Martris finds his mother, father and twelve year old sister murdered at the hands of his half brother. With the king dead, and Jared now sitting at the throne, Martris must escape or lose his own life. Two of his closest friends, Ban Soterious and Carroway the bard, accompany him in his fight for survival and for his kingdom.

The trio must find out or who is imprisoning the palace spirits, evade Jared’s demand for their lives, and find a way to unseat the nefarious brother from the throne.The story immediately grabs hold with sublime settings and charmingly real characters. Martin’s style is easy to read but never lacking in detail. I found it a chore to put the book down rather than to pick it up.

Martin cultivates an engrossing tale with the perfect combination of character development and gripping action. The Summoner will take you to a place you will want to return to again and again. The story is tinged with romance, but not so much to eclipse the sword fighting and dark undertones of the world of the undead.

The only con of Martin’s novel is that it is so difficult to put down. Chapters roll by quickly carrying you to the books conclusion. But fret not! She has crafted the next two titles in the series, The Blood King and Dark Haven.

Fans of adventure fantasy called and Martin answered, securing her place as a benefit to the genre. Her strong characters, beautiful imagery, and fast paced action make The Summoner a staple for your summer book list.

Iron Council, by China Mieville
Sackett's Land, by Louis L'Amour
Artificial Light by James Greer
Unintended Consequences of Constitutional Amendments, edited by David E. Kyvig
American Gods, by Neil Gaiman

thoughts on the above:

Iron Council - omg, loved it, see my review on the main page.  Simply put, Iron Council is about a railroad worker's strike, and as city dissidents are inspired by them, the city government fears and wishes to destroy them. but of course, that's not what the story is really about.  I love Mieville's take on criminal justice, human rights, and just his commentary on society in general.  as i mention at the end of my review, this is not a book for those who are satisfied with the status quo. but if you're not so satisfied? give Iron Council a try.  My favorite Mieville novel ever is The Scar, and this one comes in second. As Goto Dengo is Neal Stephenson's most honorably tragic character, Judah Low is Mieville's.  Mieville may have his faults, but i keep coming back to him, so he's go to be doing something right. 

Sackett's Land, by Louis L'Amour - the opening novel in L'Amour's grand series of the settling of America by immigrants, this novel was just Okay.  Set in 1599, Englishman Barnabas Sackett gets into some trouble and can choose possible death, or the New World.  guess which he chooses.  Honestly, I found most of the novel simplistic and contrived, but I'm hoping L'Amour did a lot of that on purpose, to quickly and easily set the stage for a series that now has over 30 novels in it, following a handful of immigrant families.  I'm not going to say this was a good book, but I like L'Amour's style, I was able to finish the book in 3 days, and I do want to read the next few books in the series, because I'm interested in early American history and can't say know to a nicely written historical novel.

Artificial Light by James Greer.  eh, it's going back to the library unfinished.  Taking place in Ohio in the early 90's,  this is the diary of a young woman named Fiat Lux who meets Kurt Cobain and feels responsible for his death.  I didn't start listening to Nirvana until  maybe 5 years ago (after I realized the guy from Foo Fighters came from Nirvana, actually), but I respect their musical style, and it's too bad about Cobain.  it's also too bad that this book really isn't that interesting. Most of what I read was just Fiat's internal monologue about this and that and the other thing, with minimal details, and it just didn't grab me.

Unintended Consequences of Constitutional Amendments, edited by David E. Kyvig -  Wow, what a title!  and a collection of surpriseingly fascinating essays on constitutional amendments that were designed to do good things, but did some not so good things as well. the road paved with good intentions, eh?  Beyond the Bill of Rights, many newer amendments that were designed to help people and make their lives easier just ended up pitting faction against faction, increasing government beaucracy, and making things way more complicated and political that needed. I could seriously write a full review on each essay, but isn't this a fiction blog?  anyway, I'll be searching out more essays written by some of these same folks.

American Gods, by Neil Gaiman.  ahh, the perennial favorite. When i'm staring at my bookshelves, looking for something satisfying to read, i know I can always grab a Gaiman, and life will be good.  I've read this book before, so I kind of know what to expect, but I forget what happens at the end.  Shadow, recently released from prison to find his wife killed in a car accident, is "hired" by a mysterious Mr. Wednesday, who takes Shadow to meet his mythical friends. This is Gaiman's take on Gods and sprites and mythologies that immigrants brought with them from the old country. but as those immigrants aged, and children and died, what happened to the memories of the old gods?  and what about the new American Gods, television, money, technology?  I'm halfway through the novel and loving every page.

Among Cutter's group is an older gentleman named Judah Low, who claims to know the whereabouts of the Iron Council. Everyone follows Judah, and he knows too much. None of the rebels know who they can trust, so the opening few chapters are full of code words and doublespeak. Great for the characters, but confusing for the reader.

The novel follows a handful of story lines, the most important being that of the birth of the Iron Council. Twenty some years ago, a businessman in New Crobuzon received government financing to build a transcontinental railroad. The city government believed this would help them in quick deployment of troops, city defenses, and would allow them to bring neighboring territories under their umbrella. The rails and ties went down over miles and miles, destroying everything in their path, all in the name of progress. The slave construction crews, mostly reMade, were typically shackled at night. Mieville's reMade are the criminal class – citizens found guilty of anything from murder to petty crimes to dissent, and sent to the punishment factories where they were thaumaturgically, chemically, and physically reMade into something that may be a mockery of their crime, or may help them in their future as a slave laborer, or may be random, or may be simple cruelty. If they survived the punishment factories, they could look forward to a lifetime of forced labor. No pun intended, but the reMade are a supernova of a trainwreck – you just can't look away from the additional limbs, animal parts, coal fed engines, alien protrusions and the utter insult to the soul these people have been turned into. On purpose I'm sure, reMade are often Mieville's most human characters, especially in The Scar.

Every huge construction project has it's hanger-ons, and the transcontinental railroad is no different. The great worker strike begins when the prostitutes go on strike. Cash for payroll is slow coming down the line, and the girls just won't do it for free anymore. When the employees realize it's not the prostitutes who are their enemy, but the financially pained railroad company, they strike too. After the company militia treat the reMade slaves as scabs, a riot ensues. A lot of violence and a little bit of luck later, the workers, prostitutes, and reMade have taken over the train, leaving the militia behind with one piddly train car and a long ride home. That was the day the Iron Council was born. From here on out, they lay down their tracks in the direction in which they wish to go, and pick up their tracks afterwards. The Iron Council – a socialist community that reflects equal rights for all races, honest justice, and a burning hatred for governments who fear their people. Everyone works, everyone eats, and no one gets left behind or treated like a second class citizen. After a few years, the railroad company goes bankrupt, New Crobuzon stops chasing the Iron Council, and the Perpetual Train becomes a myth prayed to by dissidents.

Judah Low the golemist is intimately involved with the strike. Originally hired by the railroad trust as a scout, he spends time with a tribe of Stiltspears, who teach him their esoteric brand of Golemetry – giving life to inanimate matter for a short period of time. In a true fantasy novel, this would probably be called magic – in a Mieville novel it's called science. Why Mieville has been lumped under the fantasy genre, I'll never know. As the railroad inches closer to Stiltspear land, Judah tries to convince the tribe to leave, and rebuild their homes elsewhere, but they won't leave their ancestral home. The railroad comes, bringing dynamite, militia, and guns with it, and the Stiltspear community is mostly wiped out. Later, it is partly due to Judah's unusual golemetry skills that the strike is successful, however after many years of living with the council, he decides to return to New Crobuzon where he quickly hooks up with the political dissidents. When the dissident faction decide the Iron Council is their salvation, Judah volunteers information on it's whereabouts, but keeps the rest of his tragic history secret. The group treks across the continent looking for the perpetual train, while the New Crobuzon militia has gone by ship around the continent and is also searching for the Council from the other side.

Something I love about the “Mieville style” is the expense his characters are forced to go through – everything costs something, and nothing is cheap. If you really want something to happen, you better really want it, because it's going to cost you something, you can't just snap your fingers and have it. Judah can't just snap his fingers and have a golem at his command, everytime the priest Qurabin requests a secret from the patron god Vogu, it costs Qurabin something – first knowledge, then memories, then senses, then anything that remains.

One of my favorite things about Mieville is that he's got the balls to write stuff I don't think anyone else wants to touch – deviant sexuality, political commentaries on crime and punishment and recovery, amorality, drug use and dependence, obsession and bone numbing fear. Sure, other authors write about all those things and more, but not in the oceanic quantity and intense quality as Mieville. On the other hand, the thing that hurts him the most as an author is that he doesn't seem to feel the need to be fully coherent. His stream of conscienceness synaesthesia-esque M. John Harrison style descriptions mixed with Lovecraftian horror prose can be a painfully acquired taste, and could easily be a turn off to many readers.

I'm often annoyed by political fiction. After enjoyed a novel and telling all my friends about it, I'll learn it was a propaganda vehicle for the authors political platform. Nothing against an author who has a message they want to get across via fiction, but I don't appreciate being turned into an unwitting preacher feeling stupid for falling for a free advertising trick.

That said, Iron Council is a political novel. And I liked it. And I'm telling all my friends about it. It was a major bonding moment when I saw it on a friend's bookshelf. Mieville has some things he needs to say about slavery, human rights, socialism, and criminal justice, and I like the sound of his voice when he says them. He takes “Of course criminals should be punished to the full extent of the law!!”, culture shock, and social class-ism to the nth degree, forcing readers to really think about how people should be treated. Unfortunately, Mieville is probably preaching to the choir, as people who are interested in reading this book probably already agree with most of what he's saying.

This not a book for the squeamish, hawkish, conservative, or those who are perfectly happy with the status quo.

Sybel comes from a line of wizards who live alone on the Eld Mountain except for the unfortunate women they lure to themselves through magic. Her mother died after giving birth to her and her only companions have been her father Ogam, an old woman called Maelga, and a collection of mythical beasts. She doesn’t care for other humans at all and is not used to dealing with them.

However, some time after her father died a young man comes to her door with a baby. He claims that the baby is kin to Sybel and also a bastard. He asks Sybel to take care of the boy. Reluctantly, Sybel agrees.

For twelve years Tamlorn lives freely on Eld Mountain. Then one day, the same man comes back to Sybel and tries to convince her to let Tamlorn return. It turns out, that Tamlorn isn’t really a bastard at all but a king’s son and many people would like to use Tamlorn in their own plots and plans. However, Sybel doesn’t want Tamlorn to be used and refuses. But eventually, Tamlorn wants to know about his father and in the end both Sybel and Tam have to deal with the human world.

Once again, McKillip turns fantasy traditions on their ear. Many writers would have (and have when they use the most common trope where a farm boy is the long lost heir) taken Tam as the main character: a twelve-year-old boy who is the rightful heir to a kingdom which has strong enemies. But this is Sybel’s story. While Tam is, of course, a significant character because Sybel loves him like a son, she is still the only view point character who makes all her own decisions and have to face the consequences.

The magic in this world is different from many fantasy books. Basically, Sybel has mind powers: she can call animals and humans to her even from a long distance as long as she knows their name. She can also wipe out memories and presumably influence people’s minds in other ways. Her most prominent power, however, is her ability to mentally control the mythical creatures she has. She can talk with them silently and they must obey her. The creatures aren’t animals as such, though. They talk coherently in their minds and the Boar even talks out loud in riddles.

The mythical creatures are very interesting bunch: the Black Swan of Tirlith, Boar Cyrin who sings and talks in riddles in a sweet voice, the Dragon Gyld, the Lyon Gules, the black Cat Moriah, and the Falcon Ter. Ter is the one we see most often because he’s Tamlorn’s companion and protector. All of the creatures seem quite well-behaved although we are told that they long for the time when their names will be remembered and spoken of again. The Dragon even does something about it. Through out the book, Sybel tries to call to her Liralen which is a huge, white bird.

As is usual to McKillip, the characters face hard choices which have no easy answers.

In other Michael Chabon news, I picked up a few more issues of his Dark horse comic The Escapist. Very good, and very fun. Highly recommended. sure, they are obviously contrived and more a "fan project" than an actual series, but that doesn't bother me. I’m hoping I can convince the library to buy this for their graphic novel collection.  If you enjoyed Chabon's The Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, then you will appreciate The Escapist.

In fun Manga news:
Fullmetal Alchemist #18 is out, and I have a copy!! I’ve read it twice now, and things really are starting to come to a head. All the pieces are in the right place, if you know what I mean. Kimblee is politely holding Winry hostage, and offers Ed the philosophers stone in exchange for Ed becoming a human weapon. Kimblee is the perfect sociopath, no wonder the homunculi support him. Speaking of, how is Riza going to share her secret? Perhaps little Hayate may be of some help.

I just can't get enough manga. my house will be full of it, and i will still be aquiring more.

Revolutionary Girl Utena – the best way to describe this manga is pure zany. Tomboyish Utena is raised by an aunt who lets her get away with just about anything, including designing her own fuschia colored school uniform in a boys cut. Every year, Utena gets a rose scented letter from a mysterious man. Each letter is written on the back of a picture, and the final picture is of the wealthy prep school Ohtori Academy. Utena is accepted into the school, and immediately, accidentally picks a fight with a member of the school council. The fight turns into a duel, and as winner of the duel, Utena “wins” a young woman named Anthy, who is the “Rose Bride”. Anthy becomes Utena’s personal servant, and “belongs” to her. As melodramatic and somewhat sexist as this sounds, it really is a comedy, with Utena constantly questionting the sanity of everything going on around her. Determined to meet the mysterious sender of the letters and protect Anthy from abusive members of the student council, Utena stays at the academy. I’ve read two volumes, and I’m looking forward to reading more.

Blame . . I'm slowly purchasing this series as I can find it. It's out of print, and i'm pretty sure i'm the only one who enjoys it. Killy is working his way up through abandoned cities, where humans have been wiped out by the machines (think the matrix meets terminator, plus insane AIs?). I really enjoy this manga for the artwork and the cyborg designs, and pretty much the design of the whole thing. Sure, there isn't much said, but it's mostly just Killy and his gun, so who is he gonna talk to anyways? he's a pretty shy, quiet guy. Not a series most people will gravitate towards, but i like it.

I have an apartment that is overflowing with books, 3 active library cards, the attention span of a meerkat, a snarky sense of humor, and a happy obsession with libraries and languages and all things dark and mysterious.

If this column inspires one person to read one book that they never thought they would enjoy because "it's not their thing," then my mission is complete. Until then, come along for the ride and enjoy yourself!

The original was created at the beginning of the cold war. Nuclear annihilation was on everyone's mind. The Day the Earth Stood Still was an allegorical tale that if we became irresponsible with nuclear proliferation, we could all be wiped out. This was the message of Klaatu. Now that we were on the edge of going into space, we would not be allowed to continue to exist as a species unless we dropped the nukes. Powerful stuff!

The remake altered the message from nuclear weapons to global warming. This is fine. Global warming has an equal chance of destroying the human race as nuclear weapons did. It does not seem as urgent or as threatening, but if it were done right then the movie should not have to suffer. Needless to say, that is the key there. They needed to do it right, but they did not.

One of the big problems with Hollywood movies today is they rush through everything. They do not take the time to build any suspense. In the original, Gort stood upon the White House lawn for days. Something would happen, and they would go back to Gort just standing there. This built tension. The remake, there was none of that. They did not take the time to build any suspense.  There was no wondering: What does Klaatu want? What is going to happen? We find out fairly casually that G.O.R.T. was here to kill us.

Wait! What? What is this G.O.R.T. business? In the remake, the robot is given the acronym GORT to stand for "Genetically Organized Robotic Technology." Bleh! So, why is Klaatu needed at all? Oh, just to further the plot. That is right; the main character in the movie is completely superfluous. There was no reason for him to actually appear in the movie. Well, except that he is there to stop G.O.R.T. from completely destroying the earth once the obvious plot point reached their logical conclusion.  Ahem -- love interest -- cough cough.

Oddly, Keanu's ultra-wooden performance was not terribly harmful to the movie. The detached alien is a fine part for Theodore "Ted" Logan. However, if you are going to give him a love interest, perhaps a little chemistry between the performers would have helped.

For the most part, all the performers involved did pretty well. Jaden Smith was a bit all over the place, but that was more a problem of the script than his performance. Jennifer Connelly and John Cleese were pretty good. Kathy Bates was spectacular.

The major problem with the movie was that it was a jumbled mess. It was just a number of scenes stuck together pretending to be a movie. This happens then that happens then this happens then that happens then...  They just did not take the time to build anything. It was as if they were giving you an updated version, without any of that unnecessary time wasting. Remember that tension you felt during the original?  Well feel that here!

Hence, it does not stand on its own, nor is it an improvement over the original. While the special effects in the remake are very good compared to the 1950's original, it does not make up for the poor writing. There were some good ideas expressed in the remake, they were lost in the jumbled mess. With a decent script and competent direction, they could have pulled it off with the cast they assembled. Sadly, they did not have those two important things. It is a shame really.

For those who might not know, or might not have guessed, The Tudors is a Showtime network series based on the tumultuous relationships and politics of England's King Henry VIII. Rather than a yawn-worthy historical biopic, the show aims to be a sexy retelling, free to take a few liberties with history for the sake of telling a good yarn. Liberties are indeed taken, but mostly they are measured, chosen carefully with good story sense in mind, and ultimately pretty few considering that the show otherwise sticks closely to known history.

Please don't get me wrong, The Tudors is very enjoyable and great fun to watch. I was looking forward to popping in the DVD when I got home from work every night last week. Often, however, one episode scratched the itch, and I found myself switching to lighter fare after one installment. I suppose that hits at the crux of one problem in The Tudors. I felt that the show made too forthright of an attempt to cast the atmosphere of a serious historical treatment, while at the same time spinning a sumptuous story. This cohabitation of the two sides diffused the drama for me at times. Also, the pacing of the entire two seasons seemed problematic to me. Too much time was spent on the King's getting a divorce from Katherine of Aragon, and the downfall of Anne Boleyn happened too quickly. How delicious it would have been to see power slip more slowly from Anne's fingers, to watch her make decision after decision to dig a deeper hole for herself.

Matt Fuller, a research assistant at near-future MIT, accidentally calibrates one of his projects incorrectly and only realizes it when the device disappears when activated, only to reappear a few moments later. The disappearance and reappearance, he soon realizes, is actually a jump forward in time, and each forward jump becomes exponentially longer. What starts at a second, increases to minutes, to hours to days. By the time he has figured out how to rig up an old car to take himself along with the device, he's gone for months only to find himself in a world of trouble when he gets home. Circumstances push him to make the irrevocable decision to embark on an adventure of forward jumps, casting him increasing further into the future until he can either find a place to settle, or a future with the technology to send him back.

The charm of this novel is primarily in Haldeman's sense of humor, creating characters that are at once whimsical and compelling. The ever larger time jumps give the reader a sense of wonder and urgency to continue along Fuller's journey, as each new time is painted in rich and fascinating detail—and typically defeats all reader expectations of what kind of place Fuller will end up in next. The science is well- but not over-detailed, allowing the causal reader and the science fiction enthusiast alike to enjoy this story. This novel is ultimately about the novelty of each new milieu, but the characters are eminently likable and their motivations keep the story grounded in real emotions. A great choice for science fiction fans, but is highly accessible for general readers looking to try something in the SFF realm.  

This novel opens in a near-future Earth, many years after the quiet invasion of parasitic aliens called "Souls." This race survives and thrives by traveling the universe to find and inhabit compatible hosts. After a clandestine arrival on Earth, they have slowly taken inhabited the majority of humans to establish a peaceful and Soul-ruled planet where the remaining uninhabited humans are rouges on the run from the new established order. The main Soul character of this novel, Wanderer, has been invited to Earth for one lifetime in effort to teach at the university about the many lives she has lived on different planets. Upon arrival she makes the controversial decision to be implanted into an adult host, rather than a child—which is commonly recommended. The host is Melanie Stryder, a recently captured fugitive from the Souls who still longs for the lover and kid brother she left behind. Melanie's robustness proves too powerful to be subdued by Wanderer, and as human emotions flood Wanderer for the first time, the two find themselves both at odds and irrevocably magnetized toward each other. So powerful is Melanie's underlying influence that Wanderer breaks from Soul society to help Melanie track down her fugitive loved ones.

In a lot of ways, this premise is chock full of scifi standards. The symbiant-host relationship may not be familiar to Meyer's YA readers, but any casual scifi fan worth his/her salt will recognize it. The invasion of Earth, the plight of the humans to gain sympathy from one of the invaders... it has all been done before. However, what sets The Host apart from the usual derivative genre standards is how these elements are rooted in characterization. Meyer's characters draw the reader into their plights with a ripe characterization fraught with dilemma. These scifi standards read with freshness through the eyes of earnestly absorbing characters, taking readers on a page-turner journey that is truly character-driven rather than plot driven.

If you have been reluctant to give Meyer's YA novels a try, The Host is your perfect opportunity to succumb to the buzz.

In 2005, she pioneered the conversion of ARWZ from a community website into its current Web Zine format. To this day, she is our sole webmaster here are ARWZ, designing and engineering all updates to the website infrastructure, but also serves as editor and content writer. Violet's primarily literary interests are popular fiction, especially the fantasy genre, and SFF television storytelling. Her favorite authors include Guy Gavriel Kay, George R.R. Martin, Matthew Stover & Orson Scott Card. She has an MA degree in Medieval Studies.