When Things Go Bad (Saramago, The Live Of Things, 2012)

 Jose Saramago. The Lives of Things (2012) Saramago is a Nobel P:riz winner. I have mixed feelings about the Nobel Prize for Literature. By its very nature it tends to reward translatable literature,  which usually means literature that’s heavy on theme and thesis and light on language and style. Saramago wrote during the Salazar dictatorship in Portugal. His stories are fantasies; their ambiance and tone is claustrophobic, stifling. There’s a sense of a fate that can be neither evaded nor comprehended, only endured. The “things” are both actual objects that turn on their owners, and people that have become objects, lacking the autonomy that would make them free agents..

An oddly unengaging read for the most part. I don’t know if that’s the effect of translation. I suspect that in Portuguese there are allusions, puns, verbal effects etc that add nuance, scope, and satirical point, but which would be difficult to render in English. Another book that drew me in despite its flaws, which testifies to the power of theme. ***

The Dark Tower (C. S, Lewis)

 C. S. Lewis. The Dark Tower. Edited by Walter Hooper. (1977) A posthumous collection of miscellaneous works, some rescued from the bonfire Lewis's brother made of unpublished drafts and other papers. They demonstrate Lewis’s inventiveness, and his ability to make abstractions concrete. I did not read the (incomplete) title story past the first two or three pages, but the shorter pieces held my interest.
      It’s a pity that Lewis was unable to finish his riff on Menelaus and Helen of Troy. He posits that Helen has aged, as have Menelaus and the other Greek heroes. Trouble is, the Greek soldiers would never accept a plain(ly) middle-aged woman as a prize worth their ten years hard fighting, not to mention the deaths of their comrades. So what’s Menelaus to do? He hopes that Egyptian sorcerers can provide him with a beautiful counterfeit, but just as they call on the new Helen to appear, the manuscript breaks off. Bummer.
      Mixed recommendation of ** to ****.

What if you were the only one capable of lying?

 The Invention of Lying (2009) [D: Ricky Gervais, Matthew Robinson. Ricky Gervais, Jennifer Garner, Jonah Hill) In Mark’s world, no one lies. Everyone tells the truth, and nothing but the truth (but not, thank the man in the sky, always the whole truth). A pretty dreary and morose place. Then Mark discovers he can “say what is not.” He uses his newfound skill to first make loadsadough and then to comfort his dying mother with a tale about “the man in the sky”. That story gets away from him. He woos Anna McDoogles, who wants a genetic match so that she can have nice skinny blond kids. True love wins in the end. The script includes a number of well-considered satiric jabs at the credulity of humankind, but sadly the full potential of the core idea is not, I think, developed. This is one of those rare stories that would work better in print than it does on screen.
     A competent job by all concerned, good for an hour and a half or so of mildly amusing entertainment. **½

An Andre Norton anthology

     The Book of Andre Norton (1975) In hardback, The Worlds of Andre Norton. A good collection: five short stories; an essay by Norton about reading and writing fantasy; a critical analysis of her writing by Brooks; a bibliography, compiled by Jakusz-Hewitt; and two “novelettes”, better described as longish short stories. A good introduction to Norton’s work and reputation, and recommended for that reason alone.
     So how does Norton’s work look now? She wrote most of it the 1950s to 1970s, a time when SF expanded beyond its existing boundaries of fantasy, wowser technology, and swashbuckling adventure. The mostly male writers dabbled in everything from careful extrapolations of current technology, to adaptations of older genres, to sociological speculation, to future and alternative histories. It was the Golden Age because the writers showed SF, redubbed “speculative fiction”, was a mode rather than a genre, and like any mode could be used for any genre and any literary purpose.
     Norton preferred fantasy, and (as Brooks remarks) doesn’t like hard science and machine technology. But she has no qualms imagining energy-beam weapons. She likes magic and mind-talk, and alliances between humans and other animals. She uses the old mythologies to tell stories of ethical quandaries.
     There’s a strong romantic streak in her writing, with handsome and chivalrous warrior heroes and beautiful strong and wise women to match with them after the usual interference from fate, or evil or merely stupid humans. The short stories are better focussed than the longer pieces, which often have the feel of role-playing games, with one damn thing after another preventing the hero and heroine from reaching their goal. They are entertainment very much of their time. SF then catered to the taste for adventure stories in which the reader could identify with the hero. Nowadays, SF is more likely to engage one’s political indignation and confirm one’s curmudgeonly despair over the human race’s follies.
     Recommended for any Norton fan, and for anyone who wants a taste of what at 50 or 60 years old is already ancient literature. ** to ***

Early Andre Norton fantasy about a gemstone

Andre Norton. The Zero Stone (1968). Morduc Jern inherits a ring with a strange home-seeking stone from his gem-dealer father. His master dies when a weird priesthood targets them both as potential sacrifices. And then one complication after another tangles the path of Murdoc and Eet, a mind-talking and -reading entity that commandeered the ship’s cat to produce a cat-like body for itself.
     They’re marooned on a planet that may have been colonised by the Old Ones, the stone behaves as no stone should, and so on. There’s double-crosses and hidden agendas and the Thieves Guild and such. Pretty good fantasy, but the plot is basically that of a role-playing game: hero must find his way to the prize. Which he does, and the denouement hints at future adventures of the intrepid pair.
     Norton writes well, so that most readers will likely read as I did, turning the pages to find out how Murdoc and Eet would escape whatever predicament they’re in, only to tumble into another one. Well done example of the genre. **½

What did your lfe mean? The Five People You Meet in Heaven (Mitch Albom)

     Mitch Albom. The Five People You Meet in Heaven (2003) Albom made his name with Tuesdays With Morrie, which was made into a successful movie. I’ve seen the movie, it teeters just this side of sentimentality.
     This book (also made into a movie) teeters over, which is a pity, since it’s a lovely idea: Eddie, the hero, dies while saving a little girl when a gondola on an amusement park ride falls. The story tells of how in the afterlife he meets five people who affected his life in ways he didn’t fully understand or didn’t know. He needs to discover how his life made sense and had a purpose before he can live in his own corner of heaven.
     Eddie had a harsh upbringing, went to war, came home a changed man, and didn’t have the children he and his wife wanted. He ends up working in maintenance in the Ruby Pier Amusement Park, a job his father held, and which he thinks marks him as a failure. The five people he meets show him otherwise.
     Albom writes well, if occasionally too consciously ironic, and with sometimes too much authorial commentary. If the book causes the reader to reflect on how minor and major incidents shaped his own life, it will have succeeded. As a story about a likeable man who finally understands his own value, it’s well-done. Read it. ***

Cartoons and Comic Strips: Larson and Trudeau

     Gary Larson. Wildlife Preserves (1989) I never tire of Gary Larson. I think this is the fifth time I’ve read this collection of his cartoons. His gift is to imagine how a different context would affect the lives of people, animals, and of course monsters. Such as the unfortunate fish whose tail is embedded in two styrofoam shoes, which drag him up to “sleep with the humans.”  Or a flea painting a dogscape, which consists of acres of fur. Or Thor’s workbench, on which rest his hammer, his screwdriver, and his crescent wrench.
     Well, maybe you have to have the same sense of seeing the logically absurd.
     Recommended. ****

     G. B. Trudeau. Check Your Egos at the Door (1984, 1985) A Doonesbury collection. These strips were drawn during the reelection of Reagan. It’s depressing to see how little has changed since then. The only real difference is that liberals and conservatives were still talking to each other, whereas now they either scream at or ignore each other. The strips rely on words, so a brief quote is impossible, but I’ll try:
     Duane: I can’t get over these figures, Rick. Suburbanites went for Reagan 65% to 35%, fundamentalist 89% to11%, car dealers 54% to 46%...
     Rick: Duane, you can’t let all that get to you....
     Sounds a lot like the Dems trying to figure out how they lost to Trump. Except that Reagan won the popular vote, and Trump didn’t. ****

The humour of horror: Charles Addams

 

    Charles Addams Nightcrawlers (1957) Wikipedia lists this as the 5th compilation of Addams’ drawings. Addams has a knack for combining the everyday suburban life of middle America with traditional horror tropes. This makes his Family endearing, We recognise that even terrifying monsters have a homelife and trouble raising their children. That’s what made the TV series a hit, despite its clumsy production values and often awful scripts.
     But all is not sweetness and dark. Addams also takes evil seriously: The TV host of “Here is Your Life” reveals “...the wife you haven’t seen for eighteen years” about to appear from behind the curtain, carrying a gun. Or a little boy dribbling not crumbs but thumbtacks to mark his trail. OK, that’s mere meanness, but mere meanness is merely the mildest evil.
     He’s also good on the purely bizarre: A TV repairman tells the customer he has fixed the “dead area difficulties” etc, by mounting a huge eye and two large ears on the antenna above the set. A allusion to Big Brother, perhaps.
      I think Addams influenced cartoonists like Gary Larson, and also created an audience for them. My copy is a Pocket Books reprint of 1964, well done on good paper, but I had to re-glue the back. A keeper. ***

 

Men In Black A Classic

    Men in Black (1997) [D: Barry Sonnenfeld. Tommy Lee Jones, Will Smith, Linda Fiorentino, Rip Torn et al] I think this is the fourth time I’ve watched this movie. Maybe the fifth. It holds up well.
     It’s inspired by a comic book series that seems to be a rather rambling, unfocused mess. The movie delivers a coherent story, with witty dialogue, well-done riffs on stereotypical characters, a superlative storyboard, and actors who know that to make a fantasy work means hinting at the backstories that animate their roles. The whole crew obviously had fun making this ridiculous story work. Competent photography, well-executed special effects, direction that keeps the story moving fast without ever losing the audience, music and sound that rarely intrude, sly allusions to the tropes of the genre. What more can you ask for?
     It’s the actors that make this fantasy above average. Jones has the world-weary look of a pro who has seen it all, but hangs in there because a) it’s his job; b) he’s good at it; and c) it’s necessary. He’s moderately patient with recruit Will Smith, who delivers his standard smart-ass character, a wise guy who has trouble with authority, but takes the job seriously. All the secondary roles are done well, even the tow-truck driver has a history, hinted at when he reveals a gun tucked into his waistband.
     Movies like this are often underrated. They’re slick, live-action fantasy comic books after all, and what can such a genre teach us about real life? A lot, actually. That loyalty matters. That the cranky outsider is essential precisely because he’s a cranky outsider, and sees things that others miss. That life demands sacrifice. That with luck, a bit of talent, and damn hard work, you can exceed your own expectations. That the universe is a mysterious, dangerous, and wonderful place. And that a movie crew that believes in the project can deliver a classic. ****

Bad boys and other fun stuff (book review)

     Cornelia Ostabrauck, ed. Das Kleine Wilhelm Busch Album (n.d.) Includes Max und Moritz, those terrible boys whose pranks damage humans and kill animals. Their demise is not mourned. Plus a handful of other Busch faves, including Der Virtuoso: Ein Neujahrskonzert, which reminds me of Gerard Hoffnung’s music cartoons. It’s quite likely that Hoffnung knew Busch’s work and was influenced by it. Busch has fallen out of favour in some quarters because of his combination of physical fantasy and psychological realism. He know that humans are not only imperfect but often intentionally evil. A nice little gift-book, about 5cm square, I have no idea how I acquired it. If you haven’t encountered Busch, you can find his books on the Gutenberg Project.***

Paddington (2014)

 Paddington (2014) [D:Paul King. Hugh Bonneville, Sally Hawkins, Julie Walters, and  Ben Wishaw voicing Paddington] I like Paddington Bear very much. Created by Michael Bond and starring in several books as well as an animated series for children’s television, he’s a hapless but friendly furry person whose enthusiastic naivete gets him into all kinds of scrapes. Here, sent to England by his Aunt Lucy after an earthquake destroys his home in “deepest Peru”, he yearns for a proper home and a family. He gets both, of course, but not until getting into all kinds of scrapes and being nearly murdered and stuffed by an ice-cold villainess.
   
     I enjoyed this movie. The makers wisely decided to play Paddington’s naivete for laughs while accepting the improbable premise at face value, and taking Paddington’s predicament seriously. Well done special effects, a narrative pace nicely tuned to children’s need for time to absorb plot-points and adults’ quicker uptake of the subtext, very well done animation, and characters complex enough to make us care for them but simple enough that we recognise the stereotypes immediately. Not the greatest movie ever made, but a well-crafted entertainment with hardly a false note. ***
 

Tanith Lee. Delusion’s Master (1981)

 
Tanith Lee. Delusion’s Master (1981) Well written ‘adult’ fantasy, but it palls after a while. The Gods are indifferent to humans, the Demons care about them, but are offended when humans reject them. Lee riffs on Babel and holy cities and priests etc. All very visual, in a graphic novel sort of way. The book would probably have worked better as graphic novel, actually.

     The language is lush, it echoes the quasi-archaic styles that seem to be de rigeur for these efforts. Problem is, after the Prologue there are no characters. Humans are unnamed, but despite being given names, Chuz and other demons are mere figures in a landscape. The landscape and figures shapeshift, everything is described as occurring on an epic scale, and eventually I surfeited. Rich language, dream-like plotting, fantastic imagery aren’t enough. I want to care about the characters one way or another. In this book, only the Prologue, a terrifying story of lust and love and murder and vengeance and lethal ambition, does this. In later books, Lee does give us characters we care about, we want them to succeed or fail, but not here.

     I stopped reading about halfway through. Those who like this genre will no doubt rate the book much higher than I do. *½

C. S. Lewis. The Screwtape Letters (1942)

     C. S. Lewis. The Screwtape Letters (1942) Rereading these letters reminds me once again of Lewis’s clear thinking, and psychological insight. He understands that moral theology is about our thoughts, feelings, and behaviours. So this book is not only a wonderfully clear exposition of Christian moral theology (and theology generally), it is also a wonderfully astute exploration of how we behave, and how we delude ourselves about the motives and consequences of our behaviour. It’s also a very topical reminder that Satan is the Father of Lies: most of Screwtape’s letters deal with ways of deflecting the “patient’s” thinking away from truth into confusion, which is the first step towards falsehood. It’s not really Wormwood’s fault that he’s incapable of the subtlety required to do this well. He lacks experience, and seems a bit of an enthusiastic dimwit. This dooms him to become food for the elder demon, for in Hell only results count, not intentions and abilities. Rather like “objective testing” in schools.
     One of my favourite theological insights (based on a psychological one) is that Satan is incapable of producing pleasure, joy, happiness, and contentment: these are gifts from God. The best Satan can do is produce imitations, and delude us into thinking (not feeling, please note) that these imitations are the real thing. Nor is Satan capable of pleasure and joy himself. Poor devil! **** (2010)

Garrison Keillor. A Christmas Blizzard (2009)

     Garrison Keillor. A Christmas Blizzard (2009) James Sparrow hates Christmas; his wife Joyce loves the season and the feast. Sparrow flies to N. Dakota because his uncle’s health is failing. There a blizzard prevents his return to Minneapolis, so he spends some time in an ice fishing hut. He’s visited by various visions, or maybe angels, or maybe ghosts, which, like Scrooge’s Marley, teach him to be a more tolerant and loving human being. They also tell him that his wife is pregnant, which is something of a miracle after many years of marriage. So all’s well.
     Garrison Keillor is a wonderful story teller. This novel is very like his News From Lake Wobegon in tone and structure. He rambles, and it seems the story is about to get away from him and end up nowhere in particular, but like a walk in the bush on a winter’s night it bends back to where it started, a place that has changed in unexpected ways. Or perhaps it’s we who have changed, and see the old familiar places as the miracles they are. Worth another read. ***½

Gary Larson. Bride of the Far Side (1985)

     Gary Larson. Bride of the Far Side (1985) Larson’s genius is finding the mundane in the bizarre and the bizarre in the mundane. Animals, alien life forms, the stereotypical monsters of the movies, all have the same concerns, worries, and ambitions as ordinary suburban human beings, whose secret desires and naive common sense lead them into lethal choices. Two alien kids with three eyes each taunt a school chum wearing glasses as “Six eyes.” A Viking opens his lunch box, and complains that his wife has given him a tuna fish sandwich. A man and his boy watch riff-raff (lounging smokers and streetwalkers) displayed at the zoo.
     I like Larson’s drawings a lot. **** (2007)

Margaret Atwood. Good Bones and Simple Murders (1994)

Margaret Atwood. Good Bones and Simple Murders (1994) A nicely made little book of some of Atwood’s shards and fragments: Variations on fairy tales, meditations, dialogues between unnamed characters, micro-tales, and so on. Atwood is very clever, every one of these bits succeeds. A pleasure to read. I liked The Little Red Hen Tells All, for example, which gives us a reversal of the usual plot. These items are clearly experiments of one kind or another, playful rewritings, games played with current themes and topics, but each shows us a powerful imagination, a clear-eyed wit, and, despite what that wit observes, a merry heart. ***

Bill Watterson. Attack of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons (1992)

      Bill Watterson. Attack of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons (1992) Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes strips catch the essence of childhood, but their strength is touching on the questions that we start asking as children and still can’t answer as adults. Or don’t want to answer, since we like to keep our amour propre intact.
     Calvin just wants to do what he wants to do. He has glimpses of his own evil, but his morality is simple: Don’t get caught. Hobbes is both his alter ego, providing sage advice, and moral insight and guidance; and his id, ever ready to pounce, trounce, and not quite devour Calvin. Calvin imagines himself as a tyrannosaurus rex, or as Spaceman Spiff, to escape the realities of his existence, but reality always intrudes. We may make ourselves out to be heroes in our fantasies, but we know they’re only fantasies after all. I like Calvin and Hobbes. It’s a strip with a huge range, from straightforward comedy and farce to subtle plays on words and ideas. It’s a pity but not surprising that Watterson ended the strip. It’s impossible to keep such high standards for very long. **** (2006)

‘BB’ The Forest of Boland Light Railway (1955)

     ‘BB’ The Forest of Boland Light Railway (1955) In this fantasy, written for children, the gnomes build a Railway to help them get their gold from the mine. Their mortal enemies, the leprechauns, attack, are defeated, attack again, win, and are finally routed with the help of the cowzies. The whole thing is a bit odd, an strange mix of twee daintiness, with coy references to wombies (female gnomes) and gombies (gnome children), and allusions to quite brutal doings. The gnomes are not cute looking little old men a la Disney, but the real thing, with large noses and ears and hair, lots of hair.
    The book has inspired at least one modeller, Andrew McLellan, to build a layout, see:
http://www.countrysidemodels.co.uk/gallery_boland/fobmain.htm
     but Andrew did not follow BB’s lead and make a quasi-GWR narrow- gauge loco, and decided that the locos must be more along the lines of Blenkinsop's and other pre-Stephenson products. The book seems to have a cult following, or rather the author does, for he also committed a lot of nature writing of the kind that is gently mocked by Evelyn Waugh in Scoop, as far as I can make out. I likely won’t ever read this book again, but it does inspire thoughts of a fantastic narrow gauge layout. ** (2005)

Kenneth Grahame. The Wind in the Willows (1905)

     Kenneth Grahame. The Wind in the Willows (1905) Rereading this book, I see what charmed me as a child: the camaraderie of Rat and Mole, the sturdiness of Badger (the perfect older brother or uncle), the silliness of Toad, the messing about with boats, the absence of domestic chores (apart from occasional busying oneself with unspecified work), and above all the sense that the narrative voice is telling you the story. I read the book when I was laid up with the mumps at nine or ten years old. I thought it was wonderful, and couldn't make up my mind which of the animal I'd most like to be.
     I also see clearly what I missed as a child: the latent sexuality, curiously gentle in the scene with Pan; the unquestioned class structure, seen from an upper middle-class perspective and unaware of the resentments and tensions below the surface of pleasant service and respectful encounters; and the conflicted attitudes to Toad, which I think express Grahame’s conflicted attitudes to his son Alastair. The structural problems are also obvious: Grahame was not a novelist, but a writer of short stories and anecdotal essays, and this book is structurally a connected set of such works, loosely linked through the adventures of Toad.
     The final chapter, in which Toad is tamed, does not ring true, perhaps because Grahame was expressing a wish for a change in character in Alastair rather than describing him; for that Toad is Alastair is I think quite certain. Whether Alastair saw this and identified with Toad’s self-congratulation and vanity (without of course recognising their silliness) is something I would like to know. I suspect he did: his suicide was I think his way out of Toad’s world. In real life, it’s impossible to change one’s character, the best one can do is to change the way one plays the role. *** (2005)

Two books I didn't finish

     Kinky Friedman. When the Cat’s Away (1988) Friedman is one of those authors who thinks that obvious puns and wordplay are signs of wit and intelligence and will persuade the reader that plot, character, and narrative structure must be up to the same level. They aren’t. Or rather, they are, namely abysmally low. Didn’t finish this book, even though it was a present from RoRo, so I felt a little guilty tossing it.


     Graham Wright. Jog Rummage (1974) Billed as a fantasy in the same league as Tolkien’s work, this book is tedious in the extreme. The world Wright imagines never takes on the kind of compelling reality that a fantasy world must, else we lose interest. There are a few puzzles that I may regret never solving, such as why the world seems to be in darkness, illumined only by a Moon that occults at regular intervals, and the differences between the Rats and the Jogs, but I can live without that knowledge.

     (2005)