Book Signing

So I meet Brandon Sanderson and Harriet McDougal Friday night (which isn't very hard to do). A few things struck as soon as I arrived: Sanderson is only five years older than I, fully two thirds, if not more, of the two-hundred plus people there were women, and that attending this signing was probably something akin to going to Dragon Con.

Sanderson is a very genuine guy: nice and very approachable. I was inclined to like him through past email exchanges. Mrs. McDougal, Robert Jordan's widow, is a true southerner so I liked her right away, not to mention that she is an all around charming lady. I didn't get called on during the Q & A but after chatting with a new friend Mick for two hours and waiting to get in the end of the line I was able to speak to both, albeit it was still rather brief.

I asked my standard question to fantasy writers about sequels and books in a series and got some standard answers. I could tell they both wanted to speak at length but unfortunately for me they had other obligations. There were a few late attendees who needed books signed, pictures taken and babies autographed so nothing in depth was truly shared.

As much as I like Sanderson, I'm not gonna pick up the wheel of time again due to his involvement. I put that series down for a good reason. As goofy (in a good way) as he is, his autograph is stranger still. I can almost read it… kinda. But I'm not sure I could convince anyone that he actually signed my book.

It was fun. Reading is so solitary its always nice to see people come together--offline-- with the expressed intent of talking about books.

If you plan to go to the signing and you don't mind missing the Q & A and the reading, both of which were Wheel of Time related, then I'd say go about two and half to three hours late. He'll be finishing up and have time to talk.

What comes next.

I started reading Roots by Alex Haley and through about two-hundred pages I can't recall being spoon feed a story in greater detail by any other author. To me the writing is dead on the page, quiet literally it is all telling and no showing: turn your brain off and accept what is given; no reader imagination required.

It seemed odd to me because the beginning ( I'm not sure if was exposition yet ) contained so many foreign elements that I read it all as a missed opportunity. Perhaps it's my love of world-building in fantasy novels, but everything that should have been new and exciting came across as boring and inconsequential. An amazing culture that is so rarely dealt with was being glossed over in a laughable manner.

Everyone knows this book, whether or not we have read it. Everyone knows who Kunta Kinte is and what this story is about. The most compelling part for me--the part I was looking for--and what saw me through the boring beginning (I'm not gonna pull punches anymore) was, wondering when will the abduction come that will mark the true beginning of Kunta's life? Every time he left the village, I felt the possibility, and I was always looking out for him as a reader. It was a weird sort of engagement because the writing had no affect of me, but knowing what was coming, and having it constantly put off until later, heightened my anticipation to the point that I was crying out for xanax.

It reminded me of some of the prominent passages in Toni Morrison's Beloved which I recently finished. She has many an odd story telling mechanics, but the one that struck me the most is her presentation of a climax to the reader without any foreplay. She is far from the first to employ such a tactic, but it is one that I feel continually fails except in Morrison's case; odder still both parties bought into the philosophy. We, the reader, knows something important has happened, but we don't know why it should affect us or the characters the way it does. I'd call it a literary wet dream, where you wake up with evidence of certain events, but still wonder, "What happened?"

It is a difficult thing to know a particular event before it's significance is explained.

Just so there is no confusion, their are precious few similarities between Beloved and Roots. I didn't particularly care for the former, but it is amazing and brilliantly done, the later...

It's hard to speak words of praise to Haley considering the blatant plagiarism, forgery, and complete fabrication of the story that he sold to the world as genealogical history. It is harder still to praise his 'ability' as a writer; as I said earlier, I was never engaged by his combination of words to elicit a specific feeling from the reader, rather the occurrence of something expected kept me going. That said, all of these mitigating circumstances--and complete lack of anything of interest happening--that lead up to chapter thirty-four combined for what was without doubt the most intense reading experience of my life. In no way am I a fan of horror fiction, but I can think of nothing scarier and begrudgingly I can stay that events of that chapter were significantly heightened by all that preceded it.

The night I read that passage, I still could have used some xanax, but to calm down after reading the events that I already knew were going to take place. It is not rare for me to stay up till two in the morning reading, but it's never happened before that I stay away till two in the morning, scared out of my mind concerning what I've just read.

Short Story Poseurs

I've made it a point to read short stories this year and it has been an effort that I have greatly enjoyed. However, one aspect of short story anthologies that I have been running into that really bothers me is novel excerpts posing as short stories.

Sometimes this is unavoidable. A writer writes a piece, finishes it, and it turns out to be of 'short story length' only to expand upon it at a later time and develop the work into a novel. But the blatant inclusion of the these not-short-stories in the hopes of getting readers to purchase a collection on the off chance they only want to read author 'X' is offensive, and will probably turn reader off from reading more short stories in the long run when they see author 'X's' new novel out; now with eighty percent more of the short story you already enjoyed for twice the price sandwiched between chapter nine and eleven.

If you want to publish a collection of related novel excerpts, then do so and market them as such, but don't mislead and imply that an excerpt and a short story are one and the same. Very few of these novel excerpts can stand well on their own, hence the reason they are novels. From the editors stand point it looks good to put "Neil Gaiman's" name or whomever on the cover. As a reader, it pisses me off and I feel it does damage to the collection as a whole. Anyone care to call me out with a contrary argument?

Tangent: the spelling of the word poseur gave--and still gives--me a bit of trouble. It seems 'poser' is totally wrong yet completely acceptable. Which really makes me wonder about 'y'all,' a third person plural contraction that is found in an large number of languages yet is frowned upon in English as improper 'southern grammar.' As a southerner I'm offended and as an American speaking English (armour, honour) I'm confused. Latin retention seems a bit arbitrary, archaic for the hell-of-it, and wholly unneeded.

Semantically confused, and hating all you posers…

Chad.

Fantasy by Another Name

A few things have come to my attention while reading The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon. The most obvious is that he is amazing and pretty much on my 'just buy it' list assuming this book is indicative of the rest of his work. (Sometimes I feel he is trying a bit too hard, especially when it comes to humor, but all-in-all, it's really good stuff.) The second issue that comes to mind is the genre of the book it self. I'll be the first to say, genre doesn't matter to me. I've said many a time before that good writing is good writing is good writing and genre doesn't play into it. But I do find it interesting how marketing departments put their spin on a book that is deemed to have mass market appeal even if the book in question is in an 'unsuitable' genre.

Alternate history, contemporary fantasy, or any other term that will be used in the future is all just a cover. It's misleading to readers. I don't see how it could be an offense to author: call a spade a spade and put the book on the fantasy self.

There is a good deal of modern fiction that contains strong fantasy elements. Sometimes I feel if publishers want the work to be successful or perhaps respectable in the eyes of the literary elite (NYT reviewers, book award committees and such) that there is a need to obscure a books true roots if it comes from a speculative genre. Neil Gaiman, Stephen King, Chabon and others are almost never billed as speculative fiction, or derivative, and almost always their books are branded, "A Novel" on the cover. As if such a designation is a cover all gesture that establishes legitimacy by way of disowning ugly origins.

"A Novel, by Author X," read: something greater than mere fantasy...

What I'd really like to consider is whether or not the industry is correct in their efforts with these particular books. Perhaps it does lead to increased sales, wider cross-over appeal, and higher recognition for a writer that is greater than the genre in question. But if all of this is the case, then I wonder why isn't all speculative fiction presented in the same light as the afore mentioned writers.

This is not to say all speculative fiction writers are as good as Chabon, but lesser writers have sold more, and better writers have won awards and respect while gaining virtually no sales. What is good for the goose aught to be good for the gaggle, right?

The Institution of Dry Cleaning

Forty-two extra long, athletic cut it isn't a common measurement if you are a male looking to purchase a suit. All things considered, pants are easy, but a coat or even a shirt can present a significant problem. The breadth of my shoulders--more specifically the measurement across my chest--is an anomaly in the fashion world.

So when I finally find something that fits, which is an effort that most people-women in particular--will never fully appreciate, the cleaning of this particular garments present some internal problems.

Who do you trust when it comes to taking care of your can't-just-walk-into-a-store-and-take-another-one-off-the-rack-should-something-go-wrong article of clothing? I spend money on the suit and alterations, and a good deal of time in an effort to find nicer clothing that both fits and is affordable. Then I'm supposed to give some guy I don't know all of ten bucks and trust him not to mess the summation of all my shopping efforts in a weeks time at the cleaners.

I'd like to think I'm doing something wrong. I have to be skipping a step somewhere. Surely there is more to the process, some research I should be doing a on specific cleaner and what qualifies them to handle my clothes, a liability waiver at least.

What of those with their bespoke Savile Row apparel? Do they take there thousand dollar clothing back to the tailor when they need it cleaned?

I'd be grateful to any that can shed some light on this topic for me. What am I missing?

Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrless

What would the fantasy genre have become with out the breakout popularity of a certain hobbit? Would everything have to come in installments of three? Would there still be such as thing as epic fantasy? Would it still be the big money maker that it is for the publishing industry?

Lud-in-the-Mist offers readers a glimpse of fantasy literature before Lord of the Rings defined the genre in so many people's minds. By no means is it the origins of fantasy literature, but it is a look at the genre before it birthed voices of dissent that only popularity affords (like mine), spawned a multitude of sub-genres, and twelve volume series that continue long after the authors untimely passing.

The story is simple, and that single element is the most refreshing part of the reading experience. It is sorely lacking in the plot convolution, character over analyzation, and page-turning-frenzy that marks so many of today's works of genre fiction. It could be said, and I for one would agree, that the book starts slow. And not the slow of too-much-exposition-not-enough-action of todays novels, but the unhurried pace of a true nineteenth-century novel though it was written in 1926. Upon completion of the book, what is more apparent than the 'slow' pace is the author's comfort with the speed that events happen. Never is their an effort to hurry things up or make events read faster, rather she is in complete control of the story's presentation and very aware of the fact. It is not so much a matter of forcing the reader to be patient, but there is a definite stylistic difference in Lud-in-the-Mist in comparison to a recently written novel of any genre.

Many of today's novels move at the pace of a prime time TV drama (and default to as little character development as well) as that is a viable story-telling medium that we are all exposed too. If you are able to 'unplug' and take things as they are given, without skimming to find the action you will find much to enjoy in Lud-in-the-Mist unhurried presentation.

There is an overwhelming sense of familiarity with this book. Perhaps, because of that feeling there is almost no real gravity in any given situation; even those concerning life and death. The familiarity is due to the works influence on so many of today's modern British fantasy writers: Susanna Clarke, Neil Gaiman, and John Connolly to mention a few. While the origins of those writers works don't lie solely in Lud-in-the-Mist its influence can't be denied. From one source or another, we, as readers, are familiar with the material in Lud-in-the-Mist.

We somehow know not the trust "The Green Man" and of course the boundary of our world and Fairieland is not to be crossed (even if the 'why' intrigues us) just as we know it is wrong to partake of things from Fairieland. But think of the delight and wonder that readers at the time felt when reading this work. What we now accept as folklore was at some point in time, an original concept. This book is refined comfort food and a bit of a guilty pleasure all in one: homemade chicken soup on a cold, rainy day with chocolate cake and a glass of milk to follow.

It is this sense of comfort--almost as if you are re-reading a work that has been a long time favorite--that gives Lud-in-the-Mist such a satisfying feeling of intimacy. There is no plot twist when the hero is wronged, or the murder trial goes according to plan. What we would today call simple and straightforward was perhaps shocking in it's own time.

I wouldn't say this was the kind of book I wish I had read as a child, because--truth be told--I'm not sure I would have gotten through the slow pace of the beginning (much like I struggled with Lord of the Rings at an older age.) But having read Lud-in-the-Mist I am sorely tempted to go back and read those opening pages again, now understanding their quality and pertinence.

To think that the world doesn't have to be at risk, and the fate of humanity isn't at stake--in a fantasy novel, no less--and that a story can still have significance may shock some, but trust me, it works. Oddly enough, while this book doesn't focus on plot machinations, it is not a character study either. While we do meet very interesting individuals it's charm lies in it simplicity. There is so much room for a readers personal imagination to 'fill in the gaps' where a modern author may have spelled everything out.

Quite simply, this book is the reason I read fiction: it's fun. Much as I loved it, I can't recommend it to everyone in good faith. It is not for the modern reader, nor the timid that can't handle nineteenth-century style prose and exposition. But to any lover of fantasy that is well read in the genre and seeking something truly different that in one way or another you have read before, there is no other book that I can give a higher recommendation. It is a beautiful, non-epic, of the most trivial sort--and I say all of those with the kindest of meaning. While the construction of the book may be terrible, I'm glad someone is still printing it as I feel it would be a shame for this volume to be hard to find. As it is widely available if you up for something different, in a mundane sort of way, then go grab a copy.

A Mercy by Toni Morrison

Whenever my interest is piqued by a book or author that is new to me, regardless of what caught my initial attention, I always pick up the most recent work by the author. I particularly don't like to start my induction to a writer that is new to me with the work that established the writer's fame. In some cases in is unavoidable, but not so with Toni Morrison.

I mention this here, at the start of my commentary, because so often the work of renown--in Ms Morrison's case Beloved--is so frequently referenced that it can become difficult to tell which book a reviewer is commenting on. As if having written a classic helps substantiate the quality of all the other works written by that author. Having not yet read Beloved (it is in my to-be-read stack) I offer here free commentary to A mercy, without any dependancy to Beloved.

I found this to be a very difficult read with a payoff that was obscured by a consistently awkward presentation. The multiple points of view force you to stay alert as a reader which is fine by me. The broken English which some characters use is also okay, even if it did get old. (I found it to be a tiresome device to use in the first place.) Yes, it yielded some personality and told much about the particular character, but it did so at the expense of my personal ease-of-reading, which I, of course, value more than any story telling device. I found it hard to make out a central story that all the characters could relate to. Each was doing their own thing, any unifying thread among the characters was thin. I felt Lina, Florens, and Mrs. Vaark--the all female leading cast--all had their own stories to tell and their was not moment of recocilliation for all their stories. This lack of cohesion also detracted from what I felt was the book's strongest point of interest: the 'mercy' itself.

The story was highly enjoyable but getting through it was rough. I can't help but feel that if it were told in a more standard, third person or even a single character's first person point of view that it would have had a stronger affect on me as a reader. All the characters seemed detached from each other, and certainly from me as a reader. Some events were shared by all and some were their own that made them who they were. Once you read far enough into A Mercy there is no confusion as who is who. All the characters are distinct, but for such a short book, there is a steep learning curve.

It sounds silly to say there were 'glimpses of brilliance' considering the author, but …(see above disclaimer) in some of the rare third person narrative I could easily see why the author is so highly regarded. There was beautiful prose, and writing that truly connected me to the situation, and the characters involved. But they were few and always seemed out of place among the garbled poor grammar of one character and the inadequate story telling of another.

At one point in reading, I set to musing if anyone else could have written this book. Or rather if anyone else could have gotten it published. Having already been awarded quite literally ever literary award there is to give, no agent or editor is going to send back a work of Toni Morrison and say, "Let's work on a few things."

I appreciate something different. Furthermore I think it's great when such an established author is willing to try something out of the ordinary such as the presentation elements of A mercy, but I can't help but wonder if a first time writer or anyone not of the stature of Toni Morrison had written this book if it would have gotten through the powers that control publication.

I do not want my feelings of this work to come across as bad, or that I feel the writing was poor. Only it felt like an experiment that was forced upon an existing great story that may have better been told in a more conventional manner.