American Gods Reviewed

For Christmas, I asked for my very own copy of Neil Gaiman's American Gods. Fortunately, when Father Christmas squeezed his fat, jolly ass down my chimney, he had in his mystical satchel the book I had requested. And I only had to sit on his lap once!

Anyway, I started reading it last week and...

Oh.

My.

Gods.

This could be my new Lord of the Rings. This could be one of those books that I pick up once a year and re-read. I don't find things like this very often. Neil Gaiman seems to have cornered the market on writing stories that I like to read and re-read. American Gods is one of those books; the Sandman series is another.

Which makes a lot of sense. There's a lot of similarities between the two stories, though sadly neither Dream nor Death make an appearance in American Gods--though Delirium and Barnabas make a cameo appearance. When I say that there's a lot of similarities between Sandman and American Gods, I'm referencing the latter parts of Sandman, when things began to be more fantastical and less horror-oriented.

The story is brilliantly imagined. When the first settlers and people began to populate and settle in the New World, they brought with them their ancient gods. As the people thanked their deities for helping them find the new land, they prayed to their gods and offered up sacrifices and other rites, the old gods set down roots in America. As the older mythologies began to die in the old world, the old gods remained here in America, where they've kind of stayed. And, in order to retain any of their powers, they've had to make amends to their rites and ceremonies to fit the new world.

Enter the main character, Shadow, who is recruited by a charismatic old "hustler" named Mr. Wednesday, who hires Shadow to be his assistant, to drive him from place to place, protect him if needed, and to hurt people only if they needed to be hurt. Also, in the unfortunate case of Mr. Wednesday's death, Shadow would perform his vigil.

However, as with all stories such as these, things are not that simple, and a "storm" is coming which will sweep up the ancient gods. The storm is an approaching battle between the old gods and newer ideas that resemble deities, and Wednesday is busy, criscrossing the country looking to recruit people to his side to fight in the battle. And Shadow finds himself caught in the middle.

There's a second plot, more of a subplot story, that revolves around a town in Wisconsin where Shadow finds himself staying for a little while that is interesting, but for the greater part of the story seems a bit extraneous. Gaiman says in an interview that he conceived of the subplot at a different point in time, but wove it into American Gods, and it does serve its purpose, but at the end of the story seems like it was unnecessary.

Overall, I was very satisfied by the story; even the subplot works. Like a lot of stories like this, I was able to see where the story was going. I'm not sure if it's because I'm a writer, too, and so I can see through the plot hints and storyline, or if it was a weakness in the story, or if it was more an artifact of knowing the various pantheons and ancient mythologies that allowed me to see the ending. Being that my wife didn't recognize a few of the characters right off, I'm going to say that it was more my familiarity with the subject material that helped me figure out the ending.

In the end, American Gods is an awesome story. You don't need an exceptional knowledge of the subject material, nor do you need to be American, to truly appreciate the story. You don't even need a healthy amount of suspension of disbelief in order to read the story, which is a hallmark of Neil Gaiman's stories. It's well-written, it's fun and very entertaining. It's an easy read and, combined with a cast of characters that you legitimately care about, this quickly becomes a page-turner. I highly recommend it.

Now, if you'll excuse me...I have to go start rereading.

What a Rip-Off

Remember back at the beginning of the year when I wanted to read a bunch of books and then, as I finished them, I'd review them on here? Usually I'd do it in the weekend slots since not a lot of people read on the weekends and such. Ha, wow, that fell off shortly after I wrote up my review for Truck: A Love Story (and Kristine insulted me for writing the review), didn't it? Anyway, since I'm not at work this week and only just kind of phoning in the blog thing until I start in with the hardcore writing next week, you're getting a book review midweek.

So, I just finished reading Diana Wynn Jones Castle in the Air today. I read this after finishing up Howl's Moving Castle. I enjoyed the book, but the movie was frankly better. Christian Bale and all.

Anyway, Castle in the Air...it's the story of a guy from a middle-eastern-inspired country called Zanzib who is essentially a street urchin with a carpet-selling business, who falls in love with the daughter of the Sultan, finds a magic flying-carpet and a genie and adventure ensues. Wait, where have I seen this before...oh, right, Disney's Aladdin.

Well, what a rip off. I mean, maybe I'll write a story about a girl who eats a poisoned apple and falls asleep and is protected by a bunch of...elves. Yes, that's right. Seven--no! Eight!--elves to protect her. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Hello, what's this? Castle in the Air was written in 1990 and Aladdin was released in 1992, with a final script handed in in 1991? Hmmm...something is rotten in the state of Denmark Zanzib.

This is not, however, the first time Disney has *ahem* borrowed heavily from someone else's work of fiction. Apparently, Robin McKinley's book Beauty was heavily-borrowed from when Disney decided to do Beauty and the Beast, but they changed just enough to keep McKinley's lawyers from settling a large sum of money. Now McKinley's all pissed, and none of her excellent stories can be made into movies, which is too bad because, apparently, her stories of love Vampire-style are really kickass, and would put Twilight to shame (you know, like how any Vampire-based story puts Twilight to shame).

Anyway, the same pretty much happened here to Diana Wynn Jones' Castle in the Air (which is in no way related to Miyazaki's movie Castle in the Sky). Disney changed the story enough that there couldn't be any lawsuits, and by changed it, I mean, they dumbed it down. Way down. They dumbed it down to Disney level. Whichever way you slice it, though, I'm pretty sure Jones got screwed in this lack of deal.

What we have here is the story of Abdullah, a carpet merchant in Zanzib who falls in love with the Sultan's daughter whom he secretly courts after buying a flying carpet. Then, he sees the Sultan's daughter stolen by a nefarious djinn, and then gets captured after dropping his nightcap in the Sultan's daughter's night garden. He escapes (thanks to the flying carpet) and comes across the genie's bottle. With the genie in hand (heh, I made a joke), he escapes the Sultan's armies and flees to the land of Ingary, where he befriends a veteran of the war Ingary just fought with Stangia (I think this is the war that was being fought in the movie version of Howl's Moving Castle). With the help of the soldier and another character (I'm leaving it a surprise on purpose), Abdullah manages to rescue his beloved Flower-of-the-Night (the Sultan's daughter) and defeat the djinn's evil brother, who is the puppeteer pulling all the strings in the kidnapping of princesses and such.

Fortunately, the ending doesn't feel as rushed in Castle in the Air as it did in Howl's. The character of Abdullah, with his constantly flowery speech and overly-polite customs, is quite likable and you can feel empathy toward him while he is trying hard to rescue his princess, but doesn't seem to get anywhere. Also, the way that Jones weaves together several plotlines into one finale is reminiscent of how another of my favorite authors, Tad Williams, which is high praise. The ability to bring all the facets of a complicated story into one, believable ending is difficult to do, but Jones manages quite well in Castle in the Air. Also, it's quite fun seeing how certain characters...appear...toward the latter stages of the story.

The story is a follow up to Jones' story of Howl's Moving Castle, which I also recommend reading (and watching the movie, for what it's worth). The stories aren't necessarily interlinked, but it will make it a lot more fun as you begin to figure out the roles and identities of some of the characters in Castle in the Air. That's a long, drawn-out way of saying you should read both books.

When I finally check-out Jones' House of Many Ways, I'll let you know how that one turns out, too. Until then, happy reading.

Review Time: Wolverine

So, I saw X-Men Origins: Wolverine last night.

I should have seen Star Trek.

What a piece of shit. This was bad. I mean, this was Revenge of the Sith bad. This made X-Men: The Last Stand almost palatable. And for those who didn't see the third installment of the X-Men movies, a diarrhea sandwich wouldn't make that X-Abortion palatable.

I realize it's unfair to hold every movie adaptation of a comic to the standards of The Dark Knight, so I decided to go into the movie expecting something akin to Iron Man. Instead, I felt like the camera operator from Zack and Miri Make a Porno. You know what I'm alluding to, so don't pretend that you don't.

Okay, so, it's easier to tell you what I liked about the movie than to list it's many faults. So, here it is, in easy-to-read list form:

1. When Silver Fox lay dying at the end of the movie, her shirt was open a little bit and you could see some side boob.
2. Will.i.am as Kestrel Wraith was pretty sweet. His fight scene with Sabretooth was pretty cool.
3. Wade Wilson was sweet. Obnoxious and mouthy, never shutting up, and deadly with his blades. Notice, I said Wade Wilson.
4. Silver Fox in her white night gown. No panty lines. Awesome.

And...that's it.

Now, for the bad. I won't go into all of the bad, because then I'd be writing a Tolkien-esque tome, and I'd really like to keep this somewhat manageable.

Gambit: My favorite mutant in the X-Universe was Colossus. Unfortunately, in X-Men 3, he lost the Russian accent (you know, the one he didn't have in X-2, either), didn't get huge when he turned metal, and his abilities were still transferable to Rogue. Pretty much, they gutted him. I bring this up because my second favorite mutant is Gambit. I like Gambit because he's a badass, he's shady, he's cocky, and he blows shit up. Unfortunately, this Gambit apparently can't remember if his accent is supposed to be Cajun or Douchebag. The whole time, even while he's sitting in a seedy bar in New Orleans hustling poker players, he's clean-looking. Oh, sure, he had a little stubble and wore a hat briefly. Fortunately, someone remembered that part of his mutant powers was an uncanny acrobatic coordination. Apparently, though, Gambit no longer has to touch objects in order to charge them with kinetic energy. And his staff? It's not supposed to have a jewel on the end of it like he's some kind of pimp out selling whores. It's supposed to be for knocking jaws loose. This is the dude that Rogue's supposed to fall for? Only if she's a drunken sorority chick blowing guys during a kegger. I'm not sure I know what that's supposed to mean, either. They totally fucked up Gambit's eyes, too. Yeah, there was one tiny flash, but part of Gambit's shadowy persona is the dark eyes and the glowing irises. Instead, we get a flash of pink and suddenly things that he gets near are explosive, not what he's held in his hand long enough to charge. So, if you're playing along at home, that's two of my favorite characters that have been completely and totally fucking ruined by the movies. Who says no one bats 1.000?

The Escape from the Island: Pretty much, the whole ending sucked. Did we really need to bring in Emma Frost just for her diamond skin? There's lots of impregnable mutants in the X-Universe. But, we had to go with Emma Frost, who, by the way, just got those powers a few years ago as a secondary mutation. She had always been a telepath before that. But, hey, whatever it takes to put a pretty blonde on the screen in a wife-beater, right?

At this point, I should apologize if any of my fellow theater-goers happen to stumble across this blog. When the voice appeared in Cyclops' head telling them which way to go to get out of the base, I couldn't refrain from groaning "Jesus Christ" out loud. Sorry. Apparently, Professor X decides to recruit Cyclops as he's escaping Three Mile Island rather than at the orphanage, but instead of communicating with the telepath (Emma Frost), he opts for Cyclops. No plot holes here, fellaz! Maybe there was an orphanage on Three Mile Island where Cyclops lived, I'm not sure. But when Professor X walked down from the chopper to greet Cyclops and Emma Frost and the rest of Generation X as they escaped the military complex, I about threw up. But then, it fit in with everything else about the movie that was so very, very wrong.

And Silver Fox's "ability" was that the Weapon X program had given her some of Wolverine's healing factor. Otherwise, she was just a human. Now, she has this "touch people and make them do what she wants" ability. I could understand if she was wearing that white nightie thing throughout the movie, but there's nothing mutant ability about what I'm alluding to.

It was nice to see Jonothon Starsmore held in one of the cages that also housed Emma Frost (the supposed sister of Silver Fox...because so many Native Americans have pretty blonde sisters). However, he never appeared again in any of the escape scenes. I noticed the twins that make up Monet St. Clair were freed, but apparently Jono couldn't make it out. That's fine, though, because I like Chamber and they'd have just fucked up his character, anyway.

Deadpool: Apparently, the Merc with a Mouth needed to have it sewn shut for the fight scene, only to have it magically reappear at the end in the little scene after the credits. I realize that he had a healing power implanted in him, but having him turn into Sylar from Heroes was fucking ridiculous. He teleports not because he has Kestrel's Wraith's ability implanted in him, but because he has a personal teleporter machine. And the whole thing with Cyclops' eyebeams was fucking stupid. I guess we all learned that Adamantium can act like a light saber in deflecting energy blasts back at the origin (despite the fact that Cyclops sheared off one of Wolvy's hands during the Age of Apocolypse story arc...the same beams given to Deadpool). What a fucking joke they made of Deadpool. And not the good kind, like the ones he cracks when, you know, he has a mouth to run incessantly.

Wolverine: I thought Wolverine was supposed to be badass, prone to rage, and deadly. I didn't realize he was whiny and brooding. We don't need depth, people. We need someone with razor-sharp claws coming out of his hands that he uses to gut people. That's all.

But, apparently, adamantium is not only indestructible, but it also doesn't get covered with blood when it's been shoved through someone's body. Oh, and it apparently cauterizes the wounds that it makes so that you don't bleed out of them. The thing I found mind-boggling, though, was that he walked out the lab after telling Silver Fox he was done with her, had made it all the way down several flights of stairs and was well away from the building when Sabretooth grabbed Silver Fox in the lab and threatened to kill her. Miraculously (maybe he borrowed Deadpool's teleporter) he reappears in the lab seconds later, without his leather jacket and shirt (apparently, the teleporter forgot those items), and fights Sabretooth. Awesome, Wolverine's a teleporter now! Nightcrawler, we hardly knew ye.

It's also quite amazing how, with the addition of some adamantium to his skeleton, Wolverine can now beat the shit out of Sabretooth every time, whereas prior to that he lost every single fight!

Also...in the opening montage...did anyone ever wonder "Now, why would a Canadian citizen be fighting in the U.S. Civil War?" And, for some reason Viet-Nam. The Viet-Nam thing made no sense, anyway, as Wolverine should have already been through the Weapon X program by then (he entered it shortly after WWII). But, you know, they didn't exactly follow along with any other part of the X-Men's universe, so why should they start now, eh?

Weapon X: I thought Maverick was German, not Grant Imahara from Mythbusters. Also, shouldn't he be able to absorb the force of the helicopter crash and emerge relatively unscathed? And wasn't he friends with Wolverine? Every time he was sent to kill Wolverine, he botched the mission on purpose. Not so here. And what about all the Alpha Flight members who came out of Weapon X? Where the hell were they? And why was Blob in this? For the fat jokes? Blob served absolutely no purpose to the story; he wasn't ever a member of Weapon X. I guess he was there so he could box Wolverine. Oh, how fantastic.

Okay, that's enough. It's horrible, okay? Don't waste your money on this piece of shit. Aside from the gross misrepresentation of the characters on the screen, the story isn't even compelling. There's some whiny bits in between fight scenes, and despite the fact that these are superhumans with amazing powers, their powers are largely absent from the multitude of fight scenes that pepper the movie. The only one who uses his powers in the fight is Kestrel Wraith, which makes that the best fight in the movie. Unfortunately, it's also one of the shortest. Even the climactic ending left me audibly groaning, despite the fact that I knew it was a comic book story (heavy on the comic part) and I was working my suspension of disbelief hardcore. It was like the director looked at a pile of comics, said "That's nice", wiped his ass on them and set it all to film.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go shoot some adamantium bullets into my brain to try and purge the memories of this travesty from my mind.

Truck: A Love Story by Michael Perry

Last summer, I read Michael Perry's book Population: 485, which, when you got past all the mangled bodies and dead teenagers, was an enjoyable read. I'm from a small town (998 happy people...and four grouches), so I could identify--sometimes painfully--with a lot of the things that Perry discussed and described in his book. Not that it's a bad thing; I live on the outskirts of a small-sized city and would move further out if I could. Also, while there are a lot of differences between Wisconsin (where Perry lives) and Indiana (where I lived), there are also a lot of similarities, so there were times when he seemed to be writing about my hometown.

Perry continues the story of small-town life in Truck: A Love Story wherein he details the adventure of restoring his beloved 1951 International Harvester truck, meeting a woman, falling in love with her, and ultimately marrying her, all the while he tries to defeat the truculent squirrels that are constantly trying to foil his attempts at cultivating a green thumb. The "action" of the story takes place in bucolic New Auburn, Wisconsin, which is in the northwest part of the state, not too far from Minnesota. The book follows the author through the course of a year, which each month being a new chapter, which is a clever concept and makes for an easy read.

Perry is more well-known for his articles and columns in various magazines. His tastes are varied and eclectic: he is happy to discuss the finer aspects of Shakespeare's use of imagery over a cup of coffee and is equally as delighted to discuss deer hunting over a beer. He's a nurse, a volunteer firefighter, a first responder, an author, and plays in a band. About the only thing he doesn't know how to do well is fix a truck.

His experience as columnist means that his chapters are often divided into small, easily-read sections. Essentially, at times, the book is a lot like reading a collection of blog posts, just with bigger words (he's the only person--aside from a word maven--I've ever seen who used the word 'omphaloskepsis' in a book...I admit it, CowGuy, that's where I picked it up!) and a more cohesive flow to the 'posts'.

Overall, I really enjoyed the story, but then I connected with the author on a couple of levels and was familiar with his work. Truck has more humor in it than does Population: 485 and doesn't end on the depressing note that Population does. Overall, I think someone who either lives in or grew up in a small town will get more enjoyment out of Truck, but I do recommend it for anyone interested in "small town America" literature. I also recommend Population: 485, but I warn you that it's far more gruesome and graphic.

Also, obviously, if you live in the Wisconsin/Minnesota area, or ever have (as I know many of you do or have), then I think you'd like these books.

If you are unfamiliar with Michael Perry's work, you can check him out at his site, SneezingCow.com.

Mars 3-D: A Review

Today is Earth Day, so I find it fitting that I do my review of Mars 3-D by Jim Bell. This was another Christmas present from my wife because I loves me some astrogeekiness. Unfortunately, I decided to kill my brain cells with beer when I was in college rather than putting them to good use by unraveling the mysteries of the universe and thus--oh look, a squirrel!

Anyway, the author, Jim Bell, is a professor at Cornell (I'll let the irony sink in for a moment) and has been a very active contributor to several NASA missions (he did a post-doc with NASA's Ames Research Center before joining the staff at Cornell). As such, he was one of the leaders for the imaging teams for the two Mars rovers, Spirit and Opportunity.

The first part of the book discusses some of the preparations the Earth-bound teams faced when planning the rather daunting task of putting the two rovers on the surface of the Red Planet. After that, the home team was tasked with developing a system to guide the robots around the surface of Mars, sample the soil, take pictures, and try to piece together some of the geologic history of Mars...and do all this from anywhere between 55 and 400 million km away (oh, metric!). While this seems like a boring read, Bell does a good job of writing in a way that does not alienate someone who isn't overly familiar with the source material.

The last three quarters of the book are all pictures taken from Mars along with explanations as to what the pictures are showing. The book comes equipped with a pair of red-and-green 3-D viewing glasses (on a bifold front cover, so they're plenty sturdy) to give the pictures in the back a better sense of depth and dimension. This is pretty cool...when it works. Unfortunately, sometimes the pictures don't line up real well, so only parts of the picture are in 3-D. Also, I would have enjoyed seeing more pictures with the "false color" (taken with a UV camera) so that everything doesn't look overly red.

That being said, the pictures taken on the edges of some of the more spectacular craters are stunning. There are also a few pictures where the rover has taken a picture behind it, so that you can see the trails left in the martian soil by the rover's wheels, which I thought was pretty damned cool. Also, there were some pictures when one of the rovers got stuck and its wheel dug down into the soil far enough to expose this shiny, pearlescent layer beneath the red dust and soil. The white mineral was chemically very similar to opal, so you can imagine that there could, potentially, be an opal the size of a continent hanging out just under the surface of Mars. Effing cool, if you ask me.

Some of the coolest pictures, I thought, were of the holes left by the boring tool. The camera worked well enough that you could see the grains of sand and dust left in the wake of the auger as well as the texture and shape of the parts that make up the hole. This, of course, fascinates me because I like geology and shit like that, and looking at some of the layers of the rock as they were formed in Mars' past is really awesome to me.

Anyway, a couple of weeks before I read this, I watched a special on National Geographic about the two rovers. I think Jim Bell was interviewed. Often. It was an entertaining and informative documentary. I really enjoyed it. Though it's not written to be, Mars 3-D serves as a nice companion piece to this show. If you're into space stuff, I'd recommend the two together. If you can only pick one, I'd go with the National Geographic show.

And, there you have it: how to turn today's green celebration red.

The Bawdy Bard: A Review of Filthy Shakespeare

You guys have no fucking idea how long I've been waiting to write up this fucking review.

Oh, okay, wait, wait...trying to be somewhat professional here. Filthy Shakespeare by Pauline Kiernan is one of the best fucking books I've ever read!

I am failing miserably here on this whole lame attempt at trying to be serious, so I'll just write like I normally do. If you don't like it, here's a rope you may go piss up.

You guys know how I'm trying to get this book thing published. Late last year, I started picking up and reading various books about grammar and the English language, with usage, word formation, and other various aspects of etymology. This was an attempt to make myself into a better writer. I figure, as I'm slowly grinding my way through my magnum opus, if I could become a better writer while I'm doing yet another read through and rewrite, then my story could be as close to perfect as I could possibly hope it to be.

Enter Filthy Shakespeare. My wife, the Buxom and Comely and Easily Terrified and Truly Appreciative of a Good Sexual Pun Boudicca, bought me this book for Christmas, kind of as a humorous gift (I bought her a book of X-Treme Latin the prior Christmas) and kind of as a nod to my love of the Bard. Right away I took to the book and quickly devoured it. And I loved every second of it.

Granted, it's an easy read. There's a lot of excerpts from various Shakespeare plays which take up large portions of the pages. These are followed by "translations" from the English of Shakespeare's time into a more modern flow of words. The author, Pauline Kiernan, is a Ph.D. from Oxford, where she taught for many years on the subject of Willy the Bard and Renaissance Drama, so she obviously is very familiar with Shakespeare, the language of the day, and the meaning of the plays.

She starts the book by giving a brief oversight of London in Shakespeare's day, of the everyday life of a typical Londoner, the political climate within England, Puritanical movements, and sexual practices, both legal and illicit. People of the day were as fascinated by sex as we are, but some of the political clout held by the church and by the growing population of Puritans caused Shakespeare to use some clever double-speak in order to hide some rather overt sexuality. Most of the time these come off as rather amusing, and I was often reminded of that famous Shakespearean symbolism that we were supposed to digest and regurgitate on tests in high school.

For instance, Mercutio, Romeo's best friend, is perhaps as big a perv as I am. A lot of times, it seems, he appears to Romeo like Bluto Blutarsky on Larry Kroger's shoulders, essentially screaming "Fuck her! Fuck her lights out!" into Romeo's ears. Also, some of the interactions between Hamlet and Ophelia reflect a deeper, more sexually charged relationship, all while deepening the two roles for the characters: Hamlet of pretending to be batshit crazy and Ophelia being driven mad by Hamlet's nuttiness (and apparently his desire to fire off a wad in her face, Peter North style).

However, there are times when I feel that Kiernan is reaching on the double-speak. For instance, in Othello, when Iago is setting up Roderigo to kill Cassio, he tells him to "wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home." I mean, I understand that the dick is a "meat sword" and all, but it seems quite a stretch to take the whole scene and interpret it as a veiled reference to Roderigo masturbating over the thought of fucking Desdemona. Sometimes, a sword is just a sword.

Despite this, Kiernan does a wonderful job illustrating the sexual imagery and punnery within Shakespeare's plays. She even goes so far as to show us that the Bard's name itself is a pun on masturbation: shake one's spear. Brilliant, no? I also learned that, when I picked a name for my blog, what I thought was a harmless reference to my book was really a veiled reference to a gangbang (crown = round, implying the circular opening of the female genitalia, and thistle = penis, pluralized here, implying many) or anal sex (crown = the crown of a hill, hill implying the smooth, rounded mound of a buttocks, thistle = penis). I also learned that a lot of "filthy" words aren't nearly as new as I would have imagined; in fact, "cunt" was actually used by Chaucer (himself a rather bawdy teller of tales) in The Canterbury Tales (therein found as "queynte"...remember that, at the time of Chaucer, English still had a heavily...French...influence, and so the /qu/ is not pronounced like we do today, but as a hard /c/ sound). Shakespeare made reference to "cunt" quite often, most of the time hidden in words like "country" or "counter" or "contrary" (look at the first syllable). Oh Willy, thou canst turn a phrase, canst though?

At the end of the book, Kiernan provides an appendix wherein you can find all the references that she cites across Shakespeare's various plays, sonnets and other writings. This, inadvertently, helped me to complete the Shakespeare quiz on Sporcle in under three minutes. Coriolanus indeed. Also, Kiernan provides a list of Shakespeare's various sexual references, puns, and symbolism in the appendix, again culling them from all of his writing. It was here I found perhaps my most favorite euphemism for sex: "groping for trouts". Expect to see that popping up around here in the future.

It might not seem like the best source for self-improvement, but I can already see myself reaping the benefits of reading this book in my own writing. I completely reworked an entire chapter, and, thanks to this book, I became a touch more creative with some of the hidden symbolism. It wasn't exactly as lewd as Mercutio's conversations with Romeo, but I thought I did an excellent job. When a character meets her future husband (unknown to either character), she feels a writhing in her stomach and a heavy weight on her shoulders, referencing a possible future pregnancy and bearing the weight of his arm across her back or, more naughtily, his sexual weight upon her back. I've worked in a few other things, but I don't want to give all my tricks away here. Suffice it to say, I feel I've become a better writer by having a more covert approach to some imagery and foreshadowing.

In short, if you like sex (which all of you do), I recommend this book. If you like Shakespeare (which all of you should!), I also recommend this book. If you're a stuck-up prude, I also recommend this book, so that, perhaps, it will get you more inclined to "stretch the velvet"...if you know what I'm saying.

Quis Custodiets? Me, That's Who!

I went and saw Watchmen last night. I went by myself and sat in a theatre with about sixty other folks. The good thing was that they were there to see the movie and--I'm going to guess--most of them either knew the story or at least knew what to except. There was no extraneous giggling about Dr. Manhattan's peezer, though there was laughing at the appropriate times when Rorschach was just being the complete badass he was supposed to be.

So, here's my review, but if you want to read reviews by people who do a much better job than me, check moog, Jon, Rider or Jidai. Pfangirl will also have a review up soon has an excellent review up, as well.

The short review: I wanted to get up and walk out of the theatre...to buy a ticket to the very next screening. I really enjoyed it. For one, it was as true an adaptation of the comic as possible. There were a couple of things left out that I thought were important: Laurie's favorite toy, the snow globe, that she broke when she saw her mother and her mother's husband fighting (I realize that Doc Manhattan's glass palace played the same role) and Sally kissing the picture of the Comedian from the group photo of the Minutemen. I thought that, when she did that in the comic, it wrapped that subplot up nicely. Also, I thought that the movie made it too obvious as to who the antagonist was. That could have just been because I knew who was behind the diabolical plan and I picked up on the clues more readily.

I wish that there had been more to the story as to why the Keene Act was set in place. I thought that was touched on a little too quickly. Also, I wish that we could have explored Dr. Malcolm's reaction to Rorschach's story more so that it was more obvious that he understood why Rorschach became what he became. I realize that these additions would have taken up more time, and the movie was already nearly three hours long (not that I minded).

Of course, I also know that the Black Freighter story arc will be in the extended version when the DVD hits shelves later in the summer, so I'm not upset over that.

That's all the negative I could pull out of it. At first, I thought Dr. Manhattan's voice wasn't right, but then, given what he has developed into, I realized that having a soothing, placid voice was better than the cold, almost Vader-esque voice I always read in the book. Also, I liked Silk Spectre II in the movie much better than the book.

Needless to say, Rorschach and the Comedian were fucking unbelievably good. Everyone has talked about them, but I also really liked Dan Dreiberg/Nite Owl II. I thought Patrick Wilson didn't get enough accolades (in the reviews I've read) for balancing the impotence/vulnerability/cowardice of Dreiberg versus the crime fighter persona of Nite Owl.

As for the ending...it's different than it was in the book (which will, of course, make Alan Moore fly off the handle over how Hollywood has ruined his art...right after pocketing yet another check), and I have to say, the ending that Snyder orchestrated was...if not better, then more believable. It tied elements of the story together more cohesively as opposed to leaving things to chance like the ending in the book did. Plus, it didn't involve a gigantic vagina-squid in the middle of New York.

The fight scenes, I thought, were well-done, despite the fact that they jumped from real time to slow motion and back. It was a little easier to follow this way than, say, in Batman or a Wolverine fight scene where things are crowded, close and fast. Rorschach's origin story was tweaked a little, but that didn't bother me; it still fit in with the character.

And as for the criticism that I heard from people on the radio that the movie had too much talking and not enough action...what the fuck movie were you watching? Yeah, it slowed down a little bit after the initial fight scene, but so did Iron Man, and you fuckers weren't bitching about that. The only problem I saw in the pacing is where Nite Owl and Rorschach are about to figure out what's going on and then we jump back to Mars to see Laurie and Jon discussing the fate of the world and Laurie's past...which is exactly how it happened in the book. Nothing felt rushed or crammed together or hurried or clipped. In fact, the only way that I noticed the three hours were nearly up (aside from knowing where we were in the storyline) was that my Cherry Coke was nearly empty.

I would recommend seeing this if you are at all a fan of the genre. If you're not necessarily, but you still would like to see it, maybe wait for the DVD. I still recommend reading the book first, just so you can follow along a little easier. I don't think it's necessary, but it might enhance your enjoyment of the film.

To top the evening off last night, I came home to find my wife laying on the bed reading my copy of the Watchmen. Talk about instant chub...

Book Review: Orcs

A couple of weeks ago, Fancy Schmancy noted that they could use a weirdo like me over at the Book Nook Club. I checked it out and felt terribly honored to be at least thought of as belonging to this crowd. However, Ms. Schmancy...do you see how often I use the word "fuck" in a post? To quote Mr. Krabs, There ain't nothing fancy about that word.

That being said, let's move on to the review of the first book I read this year (well, completed...I started it in 2008).

You guys know I love me some Tolkien, right? Ever since the Lord of the Rings began making it onto the scene in the 50s and 60s, there's been a whole shit ton of authors trying to recapture the beauty and magnificence of Middle Earth. Without these people, I wouldn't have the inspiration to write my own shit brilliant masterpieces, however, there's a lot of bad fantasy literature out there. There's a lot of good, but there's also a lot of bad.

And then there's the fantasy story that comes along which defies hyperbole and becomes the literary equivalent of the aftermath of a night of drinking Schlitz Malt Liquor and pounding cheese-and-rice burritos from Taco Bell. Orcs is one of these stories.

Oh, the concept is great: tell a story from the vantage point of a band of Orcs, the typical bad guys in the center of all Tolkien-esque fantasy stories. For some reason, no one ever fights bad elves, it's always Orcs. They're big, they're brutish, they like to fight, they typically die with the faintest brush of a sword blade or arrowhead. Let's turn that shit on its ear and see what makes these big, brutish beasts click. Sounds great, right?

However, much like that night of quaffing Schlitz Malt Liquor and eating burritos, what seems like a good idea ends up failing miserably in the execution--and you spend a lot of time with stomach pains and cold sweats.

This is another boringly typical story about a band of heroes that have to find a mystical, magical item that's been broken into pieces and the heroes must collect and assemble them. It's essentially what I think of as Final Fantasy literature, where everyone gets a different weapon, the characters have different abilities, and the warband can upgrade at each new stop along the way of what turns out to be a predetermined quest route that criss-crosses the map and leads the reader through various side quests along the way. Ho fucking hum. The non-Orc characters are basically created by flipping through a D&D manual and stopping randomly along the way, picking out whatever fey creature has shown up.

And, of course, there's a big, bad, nasty, evil queen, whose also a sorceress. She abuses her underlings, kills her sister magically, and terrifies everyone...oh, and her magic is fading. So, of course, no one just says "Fuck this shit" and kills her during one of her brutal, megalomaniacal sprees. No, they all cower before her.

In order to regain her magic, she must eat the still beating heart of some victim. Here's the catch: it can't be just a regular heart, it has to be one harvested during an orgasm! Isn't that quaint? So, of course, there's awkward sexual scenes scattered throughout followed by brutal slayings and overly descriptive illustrations of the eating of the hearts. Yummy. It also allowed the author, Stan Nicholls, to work in the line "unicorn horn she used as a dildo."

Yes. You read that right. Feel free to reread that, scratch your head and shake your head in disgust. I did. And I read the shit in the first place. Joy.

Couple this with what is very obviously an author's rage against religion, and you've got yourself a neat-and-tidy little piece of tripe. I had a constant sense of deja lu whenever the "Unis"--religious fanatics that worship one God--were on screen. I fully expected to turn the page and find that the leader of the Unis not only wanted to kill all the non-human characters, but that he also wanted to limit research on stem cells, expand faith-based charitable organizations and write a constitutional amendment banning abortion. Ugh. I hate it when political views get worked into fiction literature.

On top of that, subplots aren't just discouraged, they're outright forbidden. Got something that might be interesting? Kill the character. Could maybe someone been giving them a false lead? Never! Soldiers are defecting from the queen's army en masse. Do they stand and fight against her? Perish the thought!!!

The story itself is easy to follow, only because it reads like it was written by a third grader who just learned what the word "copious" means. The plot straightlines to a trite and predictable and utterly unfulfilling ending, which, of course, means that the evil queen will be back just in time for a sequel. Color me thrilled. The simplicity of the writing, coupled with the fact that I hate leaving a story unfinished, and you have the only reasons why I was able to choke my way through to the end of this abortion of literacy. If you enjoy stories that are shallow, poorly-crafted, archetypical and feature little to no character development, this is the book for you--in other words, the next best thing to Twilight! If you're someone who actually enjoys reading, give it a wide berth and pretend that you don't even see it sitting there.

Uh, Whoops...

So, I remembered a book that I forgot to add to my list late last year. Turns out, I read 14 books last year, which isn't a lot, but at the same time, for someone who likes to rot his brain playing video games as much as I do, that's probably pretty good.

Since I overlooked the book, I thought I'd throw out a little bit about it, you know, sort of like when you forget your kid at school and then bring him a sundae to try and make up for your complete lack of parenting skills? Yeah, something like that. *shifty-eyed*

The one I overlooked was Gene Wilder's memoir Kiss Me Like a Stranger: My Search for Love and Art. I had mentioned it here about getting back on the writing bandwagon and working on some of my stuff again.

Now, I've read a few memoirs before, including the "memoir" that was just Kevin Smith's blog shoved into book format, but I can't remember ever enjoying a memoir like Wilder's. It's not that it was uproariously funny nor was it deeply touching--it was both at times. It also gave some insights to the movies that he's been in which you can then use at parties to impress the panties off the ladies. Like, did you know that the whole scene where Willy Wonka comes strolling down the carpet and his cane gets stuck and then Wonka goes tumbling onto the ground only to pop up to the delight of those gathered was all Wilder's idea? In fact, if the director had not agreed to that scene, Wilder would not have done the movie and then we'd probably never know just how fucking lousy Tim Burton's version of the movie would be because the original would have been lost in some deep dark hole somewhere?

While the book does revolve around his life on the stage, the best parts of the book were to be found in Wilder's everyday life. His candor about his earlier marriages as well as watching Gilda Radner slowly die from cancer was amazing and never came off as being bitter or self-centered. They simply were moments from his life. While the scenes where he dealt with Radner's disease were sad and touching, reading about Wilder's own battle against sickness was even moreso. Reading about the procedures he went through in order to stave off a disease that would most certainly kill him was inspirational and left me feeling as warm-hearted as any piece of fiction where the protagonist slogs through countless hardships to arrive triumphant at the end of the story.

The book was easy to read and the chapters were short--though I did often want to squeeze just one more in before I had to go and see to some duty or task. It was a fun romp through Wilder's life and I would definitely recommend the read. It's well worth your while.

Reading is Fun, Kids

I went through and looked at my little sidebar thing about the books I read last year. In all, I finished 13 books. How the Irish Saved Civilization fell behind my bed and I'm too lazy to fish it out, so that one remains unfinished. Y: The Last Man is a very well-written and thought-provoking graphic novel series, and I only bought the first five books and read them, thus leaving me in the middle of that story, as well. I'll (hopefully) finish those up this year.

Of the 13 books I read, I reviewed some of them here. Others I was--again, shocker--too lazy to review. The two best books I read last year, however, I didn't review. So, I'll give you a quick run down now.

The best fiction book was, by far, The Children of Húrin, which is another one of those "prequel" stories that Christopher Tolkien found in his dad's basement or something. I'm a big J.R.R. Tolkien fan, but I've always struggled trying to make it through The Silmarillion, which is supposed to be the history behind the making of the world and the rise of the dark lords and the coming of Sauron to Middle Earth and all that. Maybe someday I'll read it, but I've always found it terribly boring, too boring to slog through. Happily, though, The Children of Húrin is more like The Lord of the Rings and less like The Silmarillion. In fact, I would actually think it would make a better movie than The Hobbit, but that's just my opinion. I won't go into the details here, but most of the story follows the life of Húrin's son, Túrin, as he battles against the forces of evil trying to overtake the land. Typical stuff, but there's a twist at the end. Ultimately, Túrin fails in this endeavor, but that's not the bad part. This is less like some of Tolkien's other works and more like a classical Greek tragedy. It started out slow, but at the end became a real page turner...or as much a page-turner as any Tolkien story can be. If you're a fan of Tolkien or just enjoy a beautifully-written story that ends in tragedy, I highly recommend this one.

My favorite non-fiction book was The Mother Tongue, which is Bill Bryson's exploration of the English language. As is typical with Bryson, he takes a bit of a sarcastic angle toward the history of the English language and how it has become what it is today (or what it was ten years ago, when the book was originally published). Essentially, our language is a whore, willing to spread it's legs for any other interesting word that we find and can use; we take that word in and make it ours. All of the awesome, less of the syph, none of the guilt. No other language is as quick to adopt new words as is English. Also, no other language is built in such a way that it makes it possible to just create words but, at the same time, have their meanings inherently understood by the audience. The awesomality of that has a certain difficultitude about it when trying to explainerate it.

As someone who prides himself on having a pretty good grasp on the English language, usage, grammar and vocabulary, I still learned a lot from this book. Like the fact that, despite our language not being a Romance language, asshats throughout the centuries have tried to turned it into a Romance language. Not like the Normans when they invaded England and brought all of their "qu" words to the language (though we don't really use many of their "qu" words, without the Normans, we would spell "queen" as "kwene" and "quiet" as "kwyet" and "q" would probably serve the purpose of "ck", and that would just be kwere). I'm talking about asshats who arbitrarily decided "well, there's no split infinitives in Latin, so you can't have a split infinitive in English!" Never mind the fact that, in Latin, the infinitive form of the the word is one fucking word!

I could go on, but I'm trying to keep this post short. If you're a fan of Bryson's...well, you've probably already read it. If you're a casual fan of his, maybe you haven't, but you should (how's that for a glowing recommendation?). If you're just a fan of language and how it has developed over the years--like how someone just decided we didn't need all these extra letters, so let's start dropping them, thus creating judgment, acknowledgment, ax and adz, as opposed to their more traditional forms--I'd say read it. Or, if you'd just like another reason to laugh at the French--they actually have laws governing the "purity" of their language--this is another must read.

I've already finished two books this year (well, I started one late in 2008, but still...) and I'll be writing up reviews for them shortly. Until then, go peruse the local bookstand or, if you want to help me out in a cosmic sort of way, head over the Ampersand and buy a copy of one or both (they're both available in paperback) and enjoy away. Next time my wife gets a direct deposit slip, I'll pretend you had something to do with it.

I Think I'm Done

Here's something that really bothers me, especially when I've invested a serious chunk of time getting into a story: when the story is suddenly changed wholesale. Some of you may know what I'm getting at, but for those of you who do something better with their Monday nights (like watch football or bare-knuckle fight hobos for nickels at the local bar or scratch your ass), I'll expound upon my vitriol.

This whole thing with Heroes is just...blegh. See, first off, they started out with the whole story of how people were changing over time and now they're getting these abilities. Sure, I think I've heard that plot somewhere before, but at least it was consistent. It wasn't just that one day someone woke up and suddenly could fly, or some such shit as that. Okay, I thought, perhaps this will turn out to be alright, so I watched and generally enjoyed the first season. The second season focused way too much on Hiro, who I find terribly annoying. I've met Japanese people, and they're not all mock-ups of anime characters. Now we've come to the third season and now suddenly, no one was born with these powers, but they were given these powers through genetic manipulation.

Sure, I can suspend my disbelief for so long to try and get by that. Genetic manipulation is a very common theme in science-fiction and, to an extent, we can insert genes into bacteria and we can knock genes out in almost anything, and we can synthesize DNA and proteins/enzymes. Hooray for science! I'm fine with all of that. The thing that irks me is that the whole premise for the show has changed radically in that now people aren't evolving these powers, they were given them by power-mad sociopaths at "The Company". No thanks. But wait, it's better. From the snippet of the "formula" we've seen from when Hiro (in eye-rolling, predictable fashion) looked at the piece of paper with half of the formula drawn on it, the magic bullet that gives these powers is a molecule featuring several fused cyclic ethers. Really? Brevetoxin, the culprit in red tide, is the thing that gives people powers? Huh. Funny, I thought it bound up your ion channels and killed you.
That's not even reflecting the plot holes in the story. Like, for instance, is one of Maya's powers, to go along with the black tears thing, the ability to suddenly go from being unable to speak any English at all to now being able to speak perfect, accent-free English? The baddest of the bad guys manage to escape from this mysterious "Level 5" and are on the prowl as a team of evil characters with incredibly strong powers, and they're captured by a guy with no powers at all after he gives up his gun? Weak. Also, what the hell happened to Kristen Bell? There was this whole "Oh, Elle, you're so powerful but you're untapped and untrained" and then her father (with one of the lamest powers of all) gets killed and now she's just disappeared? Nice. Jumping back and forth between the future and the past is also annoying me. The Petrelli Brothers are suddenly turning into the Summers brothers. Is their dad out running through space playing the part of a space pirate, too? Plus, we get it: Hayden Panetierre is hot, does that mean we have to shove the camera down her shirt at every turn of the plot? I'm not even that put off by her being evil in the future--though I do wonder at the whole dark hair and squinty eyes making someone evil bend. She's also a piss-poor shot.

Also, I think Peter Petrelli brings shame to the character of Synch from Generation-X. What the hell ever happened to Synch? Someone fill me in.

Anyway, the whole thing is a disaster of Cubs post-season proportions. There's not a compelling storyline that makes me want to watch. I might tune in next week, or I might not (depends on how many hobos I can bare knuckle box or if my left cheek has an itch). Overall, the whole story has become meh at best, and this time they don't have the writer's strike to blame for the coming apocalypse.

Actually, if they wrote Apocalypse into the story, things might get a lot better.

Review Time: Hellboy II: The Golden Army

I'll preface this by saying I loves me some Hellboy, but haven't read a book in a long, long time. Like, since my first year of grad school. Still, I thoroughly enjoyed the first movie as I thought it was a fairly good recreation of some of the original series.

To that end, I'm glad that Guillermo del Toro was given more license to do as he pleased with this installment in the Hellboy films, and it pays off as del Toro is an excellent storyteller. As opposed to the original, this story centers more on tradition fairy tale mythology, which I enjoyed quite a bit. The other nice thing about this movie was that the characters seemed to mesh into a more cohesive team, each knowing and owning their rolls within the larger group dynamic. Even the inclusion of Johann Krauss, a German psychic who got converted into pure ectoplasmic energy worked within the team...despite the fact that he was voiced by Seth MacFarlane. I, personally, would have liked to have had a voice actor with a more hollow, almost synthetic voice rather than listening to Peter Griffin, but that's just me.

Overall, the acting was consistent. Ron Perlman does a great job as Hellboy and Selma Blair doesn't really need to act all that much, but her broodiness is pulled off well. The scenes illustrating the growing friendship between Abe and Hellboy was comedic, and the action scenes were well done. Also, the creatures that del Toro dreamt up for the movie (Wink, the Forest God) were incredible. The Angel of Death was pretty kickass, too. I had seen a picture of her/it/him, but when it "came to life" on the screen, I really liked it. The Golden Army itself, with their clockwork skeletons, clearly carries the mark of del Toro's handiwork.

Possibly the nicest thing about the movie is that it does not rely too much on CGI. Almost all of the characters and creatures have a body inside the suits, and any extras are taken care of through the computer generated graphics. It definitely gives a much less artificial feel to the movie, which is something that was lacking in the waning scenes of Indiana Jones (and all three of the Star Wars prequels).

I will say, however, that I was slightly distracted by the Elf Prince that was the main protagonist thanks Jidai antagonist in the story, only because his name is "Nuada". There used to be a company down the street from my current employer called "Nuada Pharmaceuticals", and I knew a few people who had worked there. Couple that with the fact that the fates of both Nuada Pharmaceuticals and Prince Nuada were pretty much the same, and it makes for an enjoyable allegory.

I also kept hearing Charlie Dalton from Dead Poet's Society saying, "Call me Nuwanda".

Overall, the movie was solid and the action scenes were thoroughly entertaining. The ending is a bit predictable (come on...we know the protagonist is going to win) but getting there is a joy unto itself. The visuals are nice and don't feel overly faked and the acting is solid. The story was without any major plotholes that I noticed right away, though the scene with the baby kind of annoyed me (yes, I understand that it was a vehicle for something else).

If you're a fan of the series, you won't be let down; if you're a fan of del Toro's films, this one will not disappoint; if you're a fan of stories featuring folk lore and mythology, you might also enjoy this, as well.

Review Time: The Dark Knight

I was afraid that, when I saw all the promotional posters with the Joker and the "Why so serious?" catchphrase, that we'd get a lot more of the same zany, madcap, crazy, where-does-he-get-all-those-beautiful-toys, Superfriends Joker.

However, as someone put it last night, Jack Nicholson was Jack Nicholson; Heath Ledger was the Joker.

I had heard, going in, that Ledger could be up for a posthumous Oscar and all that. Yeah, yeah, I thought. But, not only did he capture the Joker, he also captured the two levels of the Joker. There's the wise-cracking, smartass Joker, and then there's the nobody crosses me because I'm an insane criminal mastermind who will kill you if you try Joker. Ledger was able to play both parts perfectly.

The best thing was that he didn't dominate the screen and demand everyone's attention. Instead, he sort of slunk onto the screen and then performed, his character growing with each scene, going from an unknown entity to being the creature who held 30 million people in terror within Gotham City.

Here's another thing: there was actual tension built throughout the film. There was constantly a thought of "What next?" Yeah, I could see where things were going and all, but never at any point was I sitting back thinking, "Alright, here we go." There was drama, there was tension, and there were plenty of "Oh wow" moments. I'll just say that Christopher Nolan pulled a couple of excellent bait-and-switch moments.

I think this is the movie that Spider-Man 2 wanted to be. But where Peter Parker is always going to be a whiny little punk, Bruce Wayne is dark and contemplative. Christian Bale has pretty much become my favorite Batman, though I will admit his voice in Batman form is a little...off. I guess I was spoiled by Kevin Conroy in animated form for all those years. Still, when Bruce Wayne struggles with himself, it's believable and not pouty.

Aaron Eckhart did an excellent job as Harvy Dent. So as I don't ruin the ending for anyone who hasn't seen it, his performance throughout was spot on, playing the counterpoint to Christian Bale's Batman. The interaction between the two on and off the screen with one another was well-written and well-performed.

Maggie Gyllenhaal and Gary Oldman are also good in their roles, but I still love that Morgan Freeman watches over all of Wayne Enterprises and still delivers the best comedic line in the movie.

Still, in the end, everything comes down to the Joker and Batman, and the story and the performances do not let the viewer down. As I said before, Bale does an excellent job toeing the line between caped crusader and masked vigilante, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. Ledger brings to life a terrifying, monstrous Joker and fulfills the hyperbole surrounding his final performance. It's difficult for a movie to live up to all the hype that surrounds it in this day and age, but The Dark Knight does so, delivering an excellent action movie that tickles the fanboy in all of us.

I'll also pop in, here at the end, that I really liked the Watchmen trailer that popped up right before the movie. Clearly, that is the Head of the Class of the previews, and I hope that the movie does not let down. Hopefully, like Batman, it delivers.

Review Time: These Things Come in Threes

Since I'm lazy, I haven't done much else but read. Paint falling off the house? Let's read a book. Siding buckling and rotting? Turn those pages! Strange sounds coming from the high grass in the front lawn and perhaps a panda sighting at the edge of the property? Just one more chapter!

And, of course, the wood splitting on all the decks on the house? Let's blog!

First up, Tales from the Hoosier Locker Room by John Laskowski with help from Stan Sutton. Growing up, I was familiar with Laskowski as the color man to Ted Kitchel during the ESPN-plus/Raycom local broadcasts of Indiana games--before ESPN decided to do away with any sort of "local" flavor to the local broadcasts of games in favor of more corporate "unbiased" douchebags that seem in excess over at the World Wide Leader. Laskowski played for Indiana from 1972 to 1975, which is how he's connected to the program enough to write a book about it. Another fun fact: Laz attended high school at the private school where the buxom and comely Boudicca taught Latin for a year while I was still in grad school.

This book reads pretty much as if it was written by a former player-cum-sportscaster.

It's not to say it's awful; if you're a fan of the program (which I am) and you enjoy a good read while doing your sit-down duties on the crapper (which I do), this might be the perfect book for you. Or, if you like to read in the back yard while your kids are running through the yard like wild apes (which I do) and need to keep some of your attention on said wild apes while they are throwing rocks, sticks, grass, logs and each other into the stream out back, this might be the perfect book for you. Or, if you just really like schlocky, short-tales stuffed together into loose chapter forms, this might be the book for you.

Okay, you get it: Pulitzer Prize winning material, this isn't. Even if you view this through cream-and-crimson-colored glasses, you're going to be somewhat disappointed. Written the year after Indiana's epic fail trip to the championship game in 2002, a lot of the stories revolve around the early years of the program and the years after Mike Davis took over the team. What's missing? A lot of the Bob Knight years. There's a lot of stories about Knight's teams, but for a program whose glory days revolved around the General at the helm, there's not a lot of Knight in it. I realize this was only a couple of years after Knight was summarily run out of town, but still.

Another disturbing thing was the lack of player interviews. There were plenty coming from Laskowski's team mates, but even for the team at the time, there weren't a lot of stories. Highly disappointing was the lack of stories surrounding players like Calbert Cheaney, Alan Henderson, Michael Lewis, Eric Anderson, Matt Nover...there was a small bit about Cheaney's ankle being broken in high school, but other than that, you would never have known that the 1992 team went to the Final Four and the 1993 team was ranked Number 1 going into the tournament. Hell, there's not even one mention of Todd Leary, Laskowski's radio counterpart.

Overall, the premise is a good one, but the book just leaves a lot to be desired. I understand that, at the time, the program was trying to distance itself from Knight so that Davis--who had just guided the team to a runner-up position--didn't have to live in Knight's shadow. Still, there could have been a lot more here that simply wasn't provided. At the end, when I finished, I closed the book and thought, "Meh" and simply plopped it on my "done" pile.

Next up, Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson. I realize this book is 13 years old, and that perhaps dates some of the jokes and stories in it, but this was still an enjoyable read. As one reviewer put it, Bryson has a knack for lovingly making fun of someone so that they don't feel offended at all, or something to that effect. This is true in most of his books, though I can't figure out what he has against Indiana. It's not like Iowa has a lot to brag about. But, I digress.

I've recently been reading through Bill Bryson's material, mostly because I became real sick of epic/high fantasy and decided to branch out for a while. With Bryson's stories, the epic journey is still there, but it's littered with much more outrageous characters and not as much frilly language. This book is no different. Often, I find myself wanting to stuff my gear into a backpack and follow his trip, whether it be a year-long tour of the United States, a trip up the Appalachian Trail, or, as we see in Notes from a Small Island, a six-week tour of Great Britain. While Bryson's story does encompass much of the rich history of the island, it was also a reflection on the current state of economic affairs in many of the British cities. One thing that often annoys me about Bryson's writing is his distaste for modern architecture and construction. I understand that the concrete facade of a shopping mall does not go well with the historical buildings of many British cities, but to keep bringing the point up time and again gets tiresome.

While this is one complaint, it does not distract from the tale woven about traveling around the island using primarily public transportation. Bryson deftly weaves together historical aspects of each city he visits with a wry humor that covers a vast array of subjects, whether it's the weather to the different accents encountered on his journey. In all, he paints a loving, humorous tale about not just an island but also the people who inhabit it. This is definitely well worth the read, especially if you happen to know or work with people who originally come from Great Britain.

And finally, we hit My Boring Ass Life by Kevin Smith. Basically, this is a compilation of his posts from his blog. Unfortunately, for about four fifths of the book, the stories can be boiled down to this: let the dogs out, took a shit, watched a movie, went out to eat, banged my wife, watched the Simpsons, fell asleep.

Reading about his time spent shooting Catch and Release did make things a bit more interesting, but the studio's worrisome treatment of his blog made that story suddenly less appealing about halfway through. However, it was interesting to see how a movie is shot from the inside, especially through the eyes of someone who makes a film rather than routinely acts in them (because, being Silent Bob doesn't require a lot of acting). Also, I didn't know he was in this movie until I read about it, but I still haven't seen it. I'm not a big Jennifer Garner fan, nor am I a fan of this genre of movie. Also, it has a character named Persephone, which, unless we're talking about Greek Myth, usually makes me a touch wary.

After the Catch stories, it's back to learning what is coming out of Smith's bowels and when. Finally, as he nears the production of Clerks II, the stories become far more entertaining, especially the story Me and My Shadow which is a tale told in nine parts about the events surrounding cleaning Jason Mewes (more commonly known as Jay, both on the screen and in Smith's life) up from a life of heroin and crack addiction. The posts from then on get far more enticing, as Smith relates dealing with assbag fans, anonymous douchebags on the internet panning his flicks, and wraps things up with how he got the part of Warlock in Live Free or Die Hard/Die Hard 4 and the subsequent retooling and shooting of the part for the movie.

Overall, I could have done without the daily updates showing just how boring ass Smith's life is, and gone with more of the written stories that bear more of a resemblance to the his "Evening With" material (in fact, several of the stories appear in both places). If you can wade through the shit (pun intended), this is an amusing read. It especially goes well with the time spent in the smallest room in the house, not because it stinks, but because the anecdotes and episodes are broken up into short, easily read fragments.

And, because I feel that you should never end a story talking about spending time on the shitter, here:

Review Time: Indiana Jones Style

I went and saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull last night. I was aquiver with excitement, and, frankly, I was not let down. But then again, after three Star Wars prequels and X-Men 3, my expectations were low.

First, just let me say, when I talk about something, I try not to ruin it for other people. I don't want to know anything about the plot or the outcome of the movie when I go in, and I treat everyone else to the same courtesy. Seriously. I didn't speak to a friend of mine for like, four years, because he told me that Qui-Gon got killed at the end of Phantom Menace.

Overall, I really enjoyed this movie, and I came in a little worried about the subject material. Suddenly, Indy wasn't jaunting about the Middle East looking for Biblical artifacts, but he was involved in something a bit more...paranormal. Paranormal probably isn't the right word, since the Biblical artifacts also exhibited plenty of paranormal activity. But where the Bible is usually identified as a legitimate (albeit controversial) historical document, there's really not a lot surrounding the Crystal Skulls, other than archived episodes of Coast to Coast with Art Bell (which was one of my favorite shows to listen to during those final few months of my graduate work, as I was typically up all night doing thesis writing and NMR collecting). However, from what I understand of the Crystal Skulls, the legends pretty much fit in with the plot of the movie. I did like the inclusion of the Nazca lines into the story, however, but that's just me.

Despite this apprehension, the latest installment in the Indiana Jones movies does not disappoint. Harrison Ford seems to have stepped back into his role almost seamlessly, and though there are moments when he seems to be pushing the humorous lines a bit too hard, he continues to be believable as the world's most renowned stud archaeologist. There were times when his normal charisma did not translate to the screen, but when the move was finished, I left the theater once again thinking "Fuck this chemistry stuff! I wanna go dig shit up!"

Karen Allen looked good. Maybe not as good as when she was dropping a shirt down over her bare ass in Donald Sutherland's house, but those were several years ago. Her character, Marion, however, doesn't seem to have the seamless entrance back into the world of adventure like Indy did. Given her role in the plot, this, also, seems plausible, but her character suffered the most from the lack of development.

The true surprise--for me, at least, as I was unfamiliar with his work--was Shia LaBeouf. He was believable in his role as "Mutt", and worked into the plot easily. As far as a sidekick, he was much more believable and capable than Short Round--not to mention far less annoying. Another pleasant surprise was Cate Blanchett; even though I'm not a big fan of hers (I don't know why, I'm just not a fan), she does a decent job as the main villain in the story, though you never truly feel menaced by her presence on the screen. Only once did I want to make a Lady Galadriel joke, which is good for me.

At times, the story was a bit too goofy and some of the events were far to coincidental--the tree and the river being the one that really made me roll my eyes (if you've seen it, you know what it is) and the sudden inclusion of Spider-Man to the cast of characters (again, you know what I mean). Other times, you could tell that most of the set was done in a room on a certain ranch in northern California. Unfortunately, even Spielberg's mastery couldn't keep the stink of Lucas' touch from this movie, and were again treated to sweeping, obviously faked vistas. Also, it's good to see that Russian soldiers aren't any better shots than Stormtroopers or Nazi soldiers. BUT, the action is constant and solid and enjoyable, though the dialog is, well, what you'd expect from a movie where George Lucas had any input.

Overall, I really liked the movie. I liked it much better than the three Star Wars prequels--combined! If you're a fan of Indiana Jones, well, you've probably already seen it. If you're a fence-sitter, unsure of whether to see it or not, you should see it. Overall, it's an enjoyable movie, just remember to bring along quite a heavy dose of suspension of disbelief. It won't win any awards, but I can almost guarantee that it'll be a better X-Files movie than the X-Files movie that will be in theaters later in the summer.