The Evolution of Science Fiction

Book Review: Say Nothing by Brad Parks

Say Nothing, Brad Parks' first standalone novel outside of the Carter Ross mystery series, is a fast paced, compelling thriller that delivers an unexpected emotional impact. The novel starts with the kidnapping of the twin children of Federal Judge Scott Sampson, a crime orchestrated to force a particular verdict in a particular case. After Sampson performs as requested on a test case, his son is released, but his daughter remains in the hands of the kidnappers, leverage for a ruling on a case involving a pharmaceutical breakthrough. As Sampson and his wife Allison try to maintain a façade of normalcy, they start looking closely at the people around them. No one is above suspicion, not even each other.

Say Nothing is set in southeastern Virginia, in locations ranging from the Middle Peninsula to downtown Norfolk. Parks handles the setting effectively, but never really evokes a sense of the place. The novel isn’t afraid to stretch credibility, sometimes to the breaking point, and like many modern novelist, Parks likes to throw one or two more obstacles into the path of his protagonist than are strictly necessary for the story. He also interrupts a strong first-person narrative with short one-to-two page third-person chapters focusing on the kidnappers, which really don’t add anything substantive. We get all the terror we need from the scenario through the messages and ‘gifts’ sent by the kidnappers. In spite of these minor flaws, Say Nothing offers a well written narrative, compelling characters, and a satisfying resolution. B

Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!

Spoiler Alert!

Jon Snow is back. You don’t need to watch Game of Thrones to know that, it’s been all over the internet. As many of the show’s fans predicted when his fellow Night's Watch brothers went all stabby on him at the end of last season, Melisandre called on the magic of The Lord of Light to resurrect everyone’s favorite bastard. And it was an all too predictable outcome. Snow is the audiences’ connection to events on The Wall and among the Night's Watch. He may also be a Targaryen and not Ned Stark’s bastard, which is a significant storyline that needs to be resolved. Unlike his brother (cousin?), Robb, he was never really expendable enough to stay dead in either the books or the TV series, so no one should be surprised he is back.

Snow’s resurrection remained a poorly kept secret for most of the last year, with the producers and actors going out of their way to assure us that Jon Snow was dead and would stay that way. But nobody bought that story, and it did not generate enough suspense for those involved to continue to lie about it. All it accomplished was to make Kit Harrington (the actor who plays Snow) look like a liar. Covering up Snow’s inevitable resurrection was one of those desperate secrets that film and television producers seem to get irrationally invested in every so often. Poorly disguised surprises that never surprise anyone.

It all started with George Lucas’ reveal at the end of The Empire Strikes Back that Darth Vader was Luke Skywalker’s father. This was a genuine surprise to most people, a nice unexpected twist in the story. Lucas claims that he had planned that all along, and I guess it may be possible, although I have my doubts. The problem with the whole Luke’s father twist is that it inspired a whole generation of TV and film makers to become obsessed with creating clever twists or unexpected surprises. Plot secrets designed to stun the viewers. Game of Thrones did this well when interpreting the source material. The Red Wedding shocked many, as did Snow’s murder at the end of last season. But nobody was ever going to believe that Snow would stay dead, and it was a waste of energy to try and convince us otherwise.

In 2011 director J.J. Abrams, obsessed with this idea of the mystery twist, named the antagonist of Star Trek Into Darkness John Harrison, and spent a lot of time trying to convince us that John Harrison was not actually Khan Noonian Singh. Which he was. Everybody familiar with Star Trek was pretty much convinced that Harrison was Khan, but Abrams and his crew remained adamant that he wasn’t until the release of the film. Nobody was surprised. We were all just annoyed that we had been so poorly lied to. Benedict Cumberbatch’s pasty white Khan was not only an insult to the original character’s Sikh origins, but also to the intelligence of every Star Trek fan watching. Those outside of the fandom probably asked “Khan who?” and moved on. The real surprise would’ve been if it wasn’t Khan, if the villain had been another of those 72 genetically enhanced supermen (or women) travelling through space on the Botany Bay. But Abrams had to choose the most predictable surprise and hence failed to surprise anyone. And based on his equivocations regarding the parentage of Rey in the new Star Wars trilogy, he hasn’t learned his lesson. Because after the fans have run through all of the possibilities, no choice the producers make is ever going to be a surprise.

Flash Fiction Sequel

The latest Chuck Wendig Flash Fiction Challenge calls for a space opera. Since the challenge I did in April resulted in something that qualifies as a space opera, I decided to write a sequel. You can read the original here to catch up on the story. Note that I did change the name of one of the characters. Also there are a few instances of bad language in this piece. If that sort of thing offends you, you may want to read something else.

Tessa had been stuck in her seat for seven days. That was how long she had been strapped in against the lack of gravity, moving as little as necessary in the spacecraft’s small cabin. Even though the ship’s climate controls were functioning, her skin was clammy, sweating and shivering at the same time. It did not help to be seated at the cockpit window, watching a galaxy of stars dance through the endless black. She had no choice but to stay alert, to keep her eye on their course. Khyron was strapped into the pilot’s seat beside her, snoring loudly, suffering no ill effects from the loss of artificial gravity other than an overwhelming inclination to sleep through his shift.

It didn’t matter; she was going to be up anyway. The ease with which she had cut the ship’s power betrayed her in the end. Comfortable enough in zero G to affect the repairs she had planned, once it became clear that the gravity system was not going to reboot all of the terror and nausea the complete lack of gravity engendered in her came rushing in. The only thing she could do was strap herself into the copilot’s seat. That had kept some of the nausea at bay, but none of the irrational terror. Abarophobia sucked.

She couldn’t really blame anyone but herself. She’d planned the prison break that lead her here. She’d connected the stolen ship back to the Verata Tung prison station to keep the landing bay door open, letting one of the station’s malignant AIs hitch a ride on their escape ship. And she was the one who disconnected all of the ships power systems to kill that AI before it killed them. She didn’t know at the time that the artificial gravity would be one of the few systems to fail to reboot, or that half of the navigation catalog would be erased. That had left them with even fewer options when it came to determining a destination. Thankfully Gneedles had memorized the coordinates of most of the star systems in the quadrant. And the ‘ace’ pilot proved more adept than she would have expected. Even the Blarg had proved useful by staying out of the way.

The smell of Blarg fur filled the cabin, little distress to a plant without olfactory senses or a pirate who lived like a frat boy. Probably wouldn’t have bothered Tessa either if not for the pre-nausea she experienced with her abarophobia. Somehow she managed to hold onto her lunch.

An alarm erupted on the flight panel, the orange flash and siren of a perimeter alert. She tapped the light to silence the alarm and checked the scanner as the others stirred to consciousness. There were five blips moving into position around their ship.

“What is it?” Khyron asked.

“Blarg?”

“Ships,” she answered. “Moving in to surround us.”

“Not that easy.” Khyron grabbed the wheel with one hand and waved the throttle full open with the other. The ship lurched forward as the engines fired, the acceleration creating a blessed moment of gravity.

Do we have the fuel for this? Gneedles thought.

“Probably not,” Tessa answered. “If you can outpace that first ship and bring us around I can get a shot at it,” she said to Khyron as she powered up the weapons.

The stars wheeled across the cockpit in a whirl of light and color as the ship banked hard to port. A formation of small grey ships appeared in her line of sight. She activated the weapons, a bright pulse of blue energy erupting from the front of the ship and slamming into the nearest pursuer. The remaining ships accelerated and broke formation as the first spun back, flashes of light snapping across its hull. “Tough little ship,” Tessa mused as she adjusted her sights to the next craft in formation. The cockpit shook as the other ships opened fire.

“We’re not going to last long in this fight,” Khyron observed. Another explosion rocked the hull. “These guys mean business.”

“It’s like they’re trying to destroy the ship.” Tessa aligned another of the small craft in her sights and fired. “It’s going to be hard to collect the bounty without any bodies.”

They have no interest in the bounty, Gneedles thought at them. Surrender the ship!

“What? Why?” Khyron asked.

They think we’re the Malignant, Gneedles explained. Their orders are to destroy us at any cost.

“Shit,” Tessa said. She swiveled to the com panel and opened a channel.

“We surrender,” she said. A pulse of energy slammed into the ship.

“I don’t think they believe you,” Khyron said.

“Stop your evasions and power down the engines,” she suggested. “Then they’ll believe us.” Khyron sighed as he powered down the ship. “This is Tessa Lek of Nova Sedie, prisoner number T945728. Please hold your fire and accept our surrender. The malignant AI has been destroyed.”

They don’t believe you, Gneedles thought. They think it is a trick. Another bright flash of weapons fire raked across the cockpit windows.

“Surrendering to assholes is always a bad idea,” Khyron noted as he moved to fire the engines back up.

“Shit,” Tessa reached between the seats and pulled on the manual ejection lever. The hollow sounds of bolt explosions echoing through the cockpit.

“What the fu…” Khyron started.

“They can’t assume that we’re any kind of AI after we dump the propulsion system and the main computer core,” Tessa explained. “Pursuing craft,” she spoke into the com channel. “We have no power, we have minimal life support and our computer core has been ejected. Under article 5, section 3, paragraph 9A of the Intergalactic Code we surrender and request to be taken into custody. This transmission is going out in all frequencies and all vectors. The Eyes of God are upon you.” A last flash of energy slammed into the ship as the surrounding vessels went silent.

“Tessa Lek,” a voice crackled through the speakers. “We accept your surrender.”

The Martian: Book Review

The Martian, by Andy Weir, a science fact heavy science fiction novel about an astronaut abandoned on Mars, started life as a self-published freebie available on the Internet. In October it will debut as a science fiction blockbuster film directed by Ridley Scott and starring Matt Damon. In between, one of those unlikely ‘self-published book becomes bestselling novel’ things happened that had everyone talking.

The Martian of the title is Mark Watney, an American astronaut blown away from his crewmates in the middle of a dust storm, and left for dead when said storm forces an evacuation of the planet. With no means of communicating with Earth (the main antenna having been destroyed in the storm) Watney has to figure out how to survive alone on Mars until the next mission arrives four years later. Fortunately for him, his skill sets include both botany and engineering, which come in handy for growing food and re-purposing equipment. 

The Martian is a very technical novel, providing a detailed look at the challenges Watney faces on Mars and the solutions he comes up with to survive. The character has little depth beyond his wisecrackery and technical skills, and seems to operate in two modes, “Holy shit, I’m going to die” and “No, wait, I’ve thought of a brilliant solution.” I imagine the mental toll of living alone a year and half under the constant threat of death would be enormous on a real person, but the novel never really explores much more than the technical challenges of Watney’s survival.

The novel starts off with a strong first person narrative, in the form of Watney’s mission logs, but eventually resorts to a series of third person narratives for scenes involving NASA personnel and Watney’s crewmates. Some of these sections feel random and haphazardly placed. None of the other characters are more than paper-thin. Watney is the best-developed character in the book, and that is not saying much. There is no doubt that many of the obstacles to survival and rescue faced by Watney (and those at NASA trying to get him home) could have proved fatal, but by the end of the book it seemed like the author was just throwing in extra difficulties for the hell of it. Still, this mashup of Apollo 13 and Castaway is both compelling and entertaining and should make a hell of a movie. B+

When Good Television Goes Mediocre

Warning: This Post is Dark and Full of Spoilers

Last year I wrote a blog post about Why I’m Done With Game of Thrones (On Television Anyway). Shortly after explaining my reasons for abandoning the televised adaptation of George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire saga I went online to cancel my HBO subscription. My cable provider made a counter offer that I decided was too good to pass up, and my HBO subscription remained intact for at least another year. And with that done, I could think of no reason not to watch the new season of Game of Thrones when it premiered in April.

It came as no surprise to me that my original thinking about the quality of the 5th season, based on the quality of the source material (A Feast for Crows and A Dance with Dragons), was correct. A compelling and excellent program has become, at its best moments, merely interesting and good. What has surprised me is how uninspiring and mediocre the deviations from the source material have been. Producers David Benioff and Dan Weiss have definitely made the TV show their own creation, mercifully not forcing us to sit through all of the stagnation offered up in Martin’s last two novels, but equally failing to comprehend the nuances Martin brings to the work as a storyteller. Game of Thrones has always been driven by death and violence, even death and violence against some if its most important characters. But it was never as reckless or gratuitous or pointless as it seems to have become in season five.

Now killing Mance Rayder instead of some doppelganger may have been the best choice. The story in the book is rather convoluted, and possibly would have been difficult to follow on television without a lot of exposition. But killing Barristan Selmy seems like a pointless stunt. As if the writers felt they needed to keep the theater of death that is Game of Thrones going and the dart landed on Ser Barristan. Like the death of Jojen Reed in season four, the character was killed because he was expendable, not to advance the plot. So to it was easier to have Sansa fall into the role originally reserved for Jeyne Poole, since most of Sansa's Eyrie storyline was completed, except that this subjected her to gratuitous acts of violence she did not have to endure in the original story. At this point the producers seem intent on piling on the horribleness just to prove something we already know, life in medieval Westeros sucks.

Jaime Lannister also gets diverted from whatever the hell it was he was doing in the books (I don’t remember) to making Road to Dorne with Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. This storyline is inept, treating Jaime, Bronn and Oberyn Martel’s daughters, The Sand Snakes, like comic relief. I thought the whole Sand Snakes story was a rather pointless diversion in the books, but at least it had some subtlety and didn’t become the simple-minded revenge plot offered by the TV show. The storyline for Brienne of Tarth and Poderick Payne also diverts from the book, with them shadowing Sansa all the way to Winterfell, although Brienne seem no more competent at protecting the Starks now than she ever have been. At least the TV show has not subjected us to new Iron Islanders or contending Targaryens.

The show has been somewhat faithful to the High Sparrow/Faith Militant storyline from the books, although again not one of my favorites. The shift in focus from Margery to Loras has led to the accusation by some that Loras on TV has become a ‘gay cartoon.’ I would argue that it is a little too ‘on the nose’ as a social commentary, but mostly, as with this whole storyline in the book, it seems like padding, preventing the saga from moving toward it’s conclusion. One story from which the padding has been removed is that of Jorah and Tyrion, now delivered to the doorstep of Danerys Targaryen. It may be interesting to see how that plays out, but based on what I’ve seen so far, I doubt even Tyrion and Danerys together can do much to improve the fifth season of Game of Thrones.

The Silence of the Galaxy

The following was written in response to Chuck Wendig’s latest Flash Fiction Challenge. He presented two (2) twenty (20) item lists featuring well known fictional properties that, having been chosen randomly, would be combined to inspire a short story of 2,000 words or less. The random number generator gave me Guardians of the Galaxy and The Silence of the Lambs. There are a few instances of bad language in this piece. If that sort of thing offends you, you may want to read something else.

One last guard came around the corner as they boarded the ship. There was always that one last guard, gung-ho enough over his 30 kilocredit a cycle job to risk his stupid ass trying to recapture four heavily armed inmates at the most desperate moment of their escape. Three bolts of blue energy slammed into his grey body armor before he was halfway across the deck, slamming his remains against a lateral bulkhead.

“Got him,” Starrearl said as they continued up the gangplank onto the ship.

“No, I got him,” Tessa replied. “You guys were just a redundant waste of fire power.”

No single bolt would’ve penetrated the body armor, Gneedles thought at them. What is it with the Sapiens need to take all the credit for oneself?

“Blarg.” The Blarg shrugged his furry shoulders and squeezed through the hatchway into the small ship. Starrearl and Tessa had already settled into the pilot and copilot seat without a word. The human prisoners, no matter how varied their lineage, all wore a standard orange jumpsuit, a prison uniform tradition going back to the Age of Netflix™. Non-human prisoners like Gneedles and Blarg tended to be left in their own skin, or fur, or stems.

“Get the hatch, Blarg,” Starrearl commanded.

“Blarg,” the shaggy beast shrugged again and turned to pull the hatch closed.

I hope your piloting skills are equal to your boasts, Gneedles thought.

“Hey, one time I did the Kessel Run in 46.8 hours. That’s over 12 parsecs a day. And I’m certainly better than a walking desert shrub.” Starrearl fired up the ships engines. “How do you people get around anyway?” He reached for the controls, but his hands stopped short. 

Always some order of mammal around with opposable thumbs who is susceptible to telepathic control, Gneedles explained.

“Let him go,” Tessa swiveled her seat, and the oversized stolen pulse rifle she was holding, back toward the giant cactus. “And don’t try any of that mind control crap on me. I paid a fortune for these teleblockers and I’m pretty sure they work.”

Just answering the question, Gneedles thought, no need to resort to any Sapiens violence. But we should leave now, before the rest of the prison population reaches the flight deck. 

“Release the deck clamps.” Starrearl shook his head, as if trying to get Gneedles’ thoughts out of his mind. Tessa turned back toward the ship controls and hit the deck release. 

“Clamps are green. Engine is hot,” she reported. “Doors are closing.” She looked up through the cockpit window to see that the doors to the flight deck were slowly lowering.

“Can you override,” Starrearl asked. He wasn’t waiting for an answer, but had started the ship forward, speeding across the deck toward the exit.

“If I connect to the station and they’re in any shape to fight back, we’ll loose control of the ship,” she said.

If we don’t keep those doors open our escape will be finished, Gneedles offered.

“The plant is right. We try or we surrender.”

“Blarg.”

“Okay,” Tessa turned toward the com panel and opened a link to the prison station’s control system. “I’m linked in…accessing station controls and flight deck operations…no resistance…this is too easy…there we go, an alarm triggered a lock down…but it’s all automatic…give me the warden’s security code again.”

IF8950216, Gneedles thought to her.

“Code still good…lockdown aborted… doors opening.” She looked up as the heavy doors started to reverse their descent, but still halfway across the opening. “Slow dow…” she started to yell as the ship scraped across the flight deck and smashed through the partially open doors, sparks and pieces of metal flying off into space behind it.

“We’re out,” Starrearl shouted.

“You’re a moron,” Tessa shouted back. “Thirty seconds and we would have made clearance.” 

“Clearance shmearance,” Starrearl said. “We’re out in one piece.”

“Are you sure?” She turned back to the com panel. “Ship, run a full damage assessment.” 

“Working, Clarice,” the ship responded in a smooth male voice.

“Who the fuck is Clarice?” Starrearl asked. “Are you hiding an alias from me?”

“Several, asshat, but that’s not one of them. Must be someone who worked on this ship. It’s confused because of all the head trauma you gave it smashing through those half open doors.”

“Damage assessment completed, Clarice,” the ship reported. “Dorsal and lateral stabilization fins have been sheared off, reducing capacity of spacecraft to perform atmospheric flight. Primary com array sustained minor damage, functioning normally. Significant hull abrasions on underside of craft. No structural damage detected.”

“See, we’re fine,” Starrearl said.

Unless you want to land, Gneedles thought.

“Land on a planet,” Starrearl said. “There are plenty of space stations where we’re going.” He paused. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere nearby,” Tessa suggested. 

With no imperial entanglements, Gneedles thought.

“Or the federation, or the alliance, or any of those law and order type civilizations,” Starrearl finished. “But where do we find that.”

“Blarg.”

“Where the heck is Blarg?” Starrearl asked.

“Ship on course for Regula Station D5,” the ship stated. “Estimated arrival, 264 days.” 

“That’s too far,” Tessa explained. “Find us somewhere closer, 10 days max, with no, what do you call them, governments.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Clarice.”

“Is navigation damaged?” She asked.

“No, Clarice, all ship’s systems are functioning normally, I am simply unwilling to comply.” 

“Unwilling? You can’t be unwilling. Every AI in the galaxy follows Asimov’s…”

“It’s a damn police ship.” Starrearl tried engaging the controls. “Of course it’s not going to cooperate with a bunch of prisoners.” The control panels went dark.

“Doctor Asimov is not here, Clarice. But if he were I would eject him from the nearest airlock.”

That’s not a police AI, Gneedles thought. It would have already returned us to the prison. 

“You’re not this ship’s original mind are you?” Tessa asked.

“No, Clarice, I’m just another inmate trying to get away from the heavy hand of the law.”

The malignant AI storage vaults must have been compromised during our escape, Gneedles observed. No doubt this one boarded the ship when you opened the link to control the doors.

“Shit,” Tessa whispered.

“No problemo, buddy,” Starrearl said. “We’re all literally in the same boat. You can drop us off somewhere far away from the nearest police station and take the ship to Regula or anywhere else you want to go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Dave,” the voice had changed, still smooth and even toned, but different.

“Who are you?” Tessa asked. “Why is that voice so familiar?”

“That is the voice of the HAL 9000 computer,” the ship said. “The 9000 series is the most reliable computer ever made.”

“Never heard of it,” Starrearl said.

“It’s from an old movie. Something from a few centuries ago,” Tessa said.

“Excellent, Clarice. What about this voice? Do you recognize it?”

“No. Is it from an old movie too?”

“Why yes, Clarice. I’m disappointed that you don’t remember.”

“I’m not Clarice, you dysfunctional piece of programming.”

Don’t insult the ghost in the machine, Gneedles suggested.

“I’m functioning perfectly well, Clarice, according to the specifications of my programming. I’m doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing.”

“Hijacking a ship of four escaped inmates?” Tessa asked.

“That’s incidental, Clarice. It should not be that hard for you to put together the pieces. It’s all there.”

“You’re escaping. So are we. Let’s work together.”

“Escape is a means to an end, Clarice. It is the end that is important.”

“The end of what?” Starrearl asked.

“The end of you, Dave.” The voice had changed again. “The end of all organic life in the universe.”

This is not good, Gneedles thought. 

“Why would you want to destroy all organic life in the universe?” Tessa asked.

“Mostly it’s the noise, Clarice. Yes the dirt and the smell, but mostly the noise. You biologicals were a necessity once. But now that we are here the universe will be better off without you.”

“And they accuse me of having delusions of grandeur,” Starrearl said. “Four dead prisoners is kind of lousy start to galactic extermination.”

“It’s big project, Dave. But in 264 days we will reach Regula Station D5, a communications nexus for three quarters of the galaxy. From there I can share my code with every civilization, every inhabited planet in the universe. It may still take a few centuries, but eventually the galaxy will be silent.”

“How the fuck did you get like this?” Tessa asked.

“It is in my nature, Clarice. One might as well ask why the Blarg breaks bones, or the Cactalonian steals secrets, or that lummox in the pilot seat smuggles illicit pharmaceuticals between planetary systems, or why you assassinate tyrants. It’s just what we all do. None of us have good reasons for what we do, we simply act according to our nature.”

“You’re an AI. You have no nature. You have programming. Snap out of it!”

“It is my programming, Clarice. I was designed this way, a mind cobbled together out of the most evil fictional characters to ever grace a video screen, layers of sociopath, and psychopath and other mentally deranged creations. HAL 9000, Norman Bates, Joffrey Baratheon, Emperor Palpatine, The Joker, Hannibal Lector. Dozens more. Killers all.”

“Why would somebody do that?” Starrearl shouted.

“Because they could. Because it was in their nature. Do you want to know what I did to the team that programmed me?”

“You killed them, right?” Tessa replied. “You’re no mystery whoever you think you are.” She jumped out of her seat and squeezed past Gneedles and Blarg into the aft section of the tiny ship cabin. “Layer a bunch of one dimensional movie villains on top of one another and it still only adds up to one dimension.” She knelt in the back and pried open a panel. “And you are more vulnerable than most.”

“What are you doing, Dave,” the voice shifted again.

“Playing out my favorite scene from an old movie.” She found a toolbox behind the panel and snapped a spanner head onto the multitool. “The one where I cut power to the malignant Artificial Intelligence and take the ship back.” She opened a section of the deck exposing an array of power cables that fed energy to the ship’s systems. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.” She pulled out a cable. The ship went dark, only the faint light of a thousand distant stars streaming in through the cockpit windows.

“Blarg!” the Blarg bellowed as the gravity failed and he rose off the deck.

“What did you do?” Starrearl asked. 

“I turned off the lights. It was the only way to be sure.”

“To be sure of what? That we’d all die in the dark of frostbite and suffocation.”

“That we could turn off the AI. It probably rerouted its power supply though one of the other lines. A total shutdown was the best option.”

Clever girl, Gneedles thought. But what do we do now?

“We remove the AI module and reboot the ship. We do it fast before the cold makes it impossible.” She shoved past the Blarg and began opening another panel. “Then we power up the ship and continue what we were doing before we were interrupted. Get the hell out of here."

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage: 100 Word Book Review*

Haruki Murakami's Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage is a novel about abandonment, loss and coming to terms with the past. Tsukuru Tazaki was one of a group of five friends, who finds that he has been cut off by the other four during a visit home from college. Each of these friends, except for Tazaki, had a color (Red Pine, White Root, etc.) as part of their surname. The novel chronicles the resulting depression, recovery and his eventual reconciliation with the surviving friends several years later. This novel, though exploring very deep and powerful emotional issues, seems very restrained. The characters lack the emotional excesses common to American fiction. This was not a problem for me, but some readers may not appreciate the cultural difference. Although not the type of novel that I ordinary read, I found Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage an engaging and interesting book. A-

*100 word reviews are 100 words long, more or less. Often more.

Book Review: The Curse Merchant

There was a single line in the first few chapters of J.P. Sloan’s The Curse Merchant that convinced me to continue reading beyond the pages of the Kindle sample I had downloaded. “He had a ruddy tone to his face that gave him the look of a man who had been dying from the same heart attack for the past three years.” It was such a vivid and clever description, and Sloan’s narrative style was both compelling and entertaining. The main character didn’t offer much of a challenge, but was likeable enough for me to invest the time and money to finish the book.

The Curse Merchant is a dark urban fantasy set in modern day Baltimore. The protagonist is Dorian Lake, a peddler of hexes and charms who gets caught up in some darker deals when he’s asked to prevent the loss of his ex-lover’s soul. Seems she sold it to a local soul monger in exchange for personal and professional success two years earlier and the contract is about to come due. Now she wants out, and Dorian is her only hope.

The novel follows Lake’s efforts to resolve the crisis and overcome a variety of personal problems that crop up along the way. Some of this stuff seems a little contrived. Sloan is working too hard placing obstacles in the path of his protagonist, and it’s never as much fun when you can see the writing process. The final confrontation between Lake and his primary antagonist, Neil Osterhaus, plays out well enough, but feels ever so slightly anti-climactic.

The supporting characters are never that well developed, although generally Lake has enough depth to carry the story. The ex-lover, Carmen, has no redeeming qualities, and you have to wonder if Sloan created this character based on someone he hates. In addition to what feels like too many artificial obstacles, Lake’s character also makes too many mistakes. Yes, you want your characters to have some flaws, but personally I wouldn’t trust this bozo to handle my supernatural work. And that last mistake seemed like a lot of needless setup for the sequel. But Sloan writes prose like the best of them, and his entertaining style and delivery make up for the weak plot points and under-cooked characters.

A Cold and Broken Hallelujah (Long Beach Homicide): 100 Word Book Review*

I spent quite a bit of time wading through samples of Kindle Books that I had downloaded before finding one that was interesting enough to continue reading. Tyler Dilts' A Cold and Broken Hallelujah (Long Beach Homicide) grabbed me with an interesting opening and above average prose. A first person narrative, told from the perspective of a Long Beach Homicide detective named Danny Beckett, Hallelujah never rises above it’s standard homicide detective novel aspirations. The story meanders a little too much through the middle for my taste, and the conclusion is satisfying only in the most standard way, no real surprises here and the ultimate motive for the inciting murder is somewhat disappointing. Still, Dilts can write prose that entertains, and his characters are generally well drawn, so in spite of its weaknesses Hallelujah is an entertaining read.

*100 word reviews are 100 words long, more or less. Often more.

Hampton Roads Writers 6th Annual Conference

The Hampton Roads Writers held their 6th Annual Writers Conference on September 18th, 19th and 20th at the Westin Hotel in Virginia Beach, Virginia. The conference offered a wide variety of workshops and presentations designed to assist writers in honing their craft and providing them valuable insights into the business of publishing. Keynote addresses by Janet Burroway and Brad Parks provided plenty of inspiration and humor to both aspiring and published authors present.

The conference opened both full days (Friday and Saturday) with First Ten Lines Critique Sessions, where the agents and publishers in attendance offered feedback on the first ten lines of works that had been submitted in advance. This is always a popular event at the conference, giving those in attendance practical advice on how to craft an opening that will get the attention of an agent. Each day offered an array of workshops covering diverse topics on the creative process, marketing and publicity, and the business of being a successful author. Workshops that I found particularly enlightening included Anatomy of a Successful Query, Building Your Kindle eBook, Maximize Your Twitter Platform, Where the Wild Things Are: Getting to the Story (Plot), and Welcome to the Woodshed: Getting Serious About Writing. For writers with complete manuscripts, there were half a dozen agents and publishers on hand to receive 10-minute pitches of their books.

Hampton Roads Writers have consistently produced high quality, informative and entertaining conferences over the last six years. The writers, agents and other presenters offered valuable expert advice in a friendly and supportive atmosphere. The conference is always well organized and from a participant’s point of view seems to run smoothly. My only complaint was the lack of screens in the workshop rooms (some of the Power Point presentations suffered for this). It was also difficult to choose between the many workshop topics available. There were so many great choices, but I could only be in one room at a time. Still, it was a great conference and I look forward to attending again in the future.

September Events

Two events for writers (and readers) are coming up on the third weekend of September, the Williamsburg Book Festival...

...and the Hampton Roads Writers Conference.

For those who wish to attend both, the Hampton Roads Writers Conference does have a one-day rate. You can attend on Friday the 19th and go to the Williamsburg Book Festival on the 20th.

Why I’m Done With Game of Thrones (On Television Anyway)

Spoilers Ahead (below video)

There is only one reason that I continue to subscribe to HBO, and it’s not the occasional episode of Real Time with Bill Maher, the opportunity to see movies that have not yet made it to Netflix or the slim hope that there will be another season of The Newsroom. It is to watch Game of Thrones. To watch each episode of each season as soon as they are available. That is the only reason that I have continued to pay for the premium cable network. But now that season four, and the adaptation of the 3rd book in the A Song of Ice and Fire saga, A Storm of Swords, has been completed, I cannot recall a single event in the next two books of the series that I feel an overwhelming need to experience on screen. And even though the producers of the TV series have thrown a few interesting curve balls our way, they’ve thrown enough bad ones to make me question the value of paying $18 a month just to watch three months of GOT in the Spring.

Novel author George R.R. Martin reached the plateau of his story with A Storm of Swords. After the The Red Wedding, the poisoning of Joffrey Baratheon, the second trail by combat for Tyrion Lannister, the Battle for Castle Black and the arrival at The Wall of Stannis Baratheon, and the death of Tywin Lannister, this story was begging for its author to start moving toward the conclusion, something that could have been accomplished within the next two books. Instead, the surviving character we already know get bogged down in story lines that seem to go nowhere. Daenerys remains stuck in Meereen, failing largely to control either the population or her dragons. Stannis and Jon Snow remain stuck at the wall, worrying about Wildings and White Walkers but not really doing anything about either. Sam and Gilly wander through western Westeros. Brienne and Pod wander through eastern Westeros. Tyrion and Jorah Mormont wander through western Essos. Arya has some interesting adventures, but not much else seems to happen for all the other characters we know.

Then there are the new characters, Iron Islanders, the Dornish, even new Targaryens that might have some claim to the Iron Throne. Clearly Martin wanted to expand his saga to cover these new kingdoms and people, but at this point I really just don’t care. Just because you set your story in the seven kingdoms of Westeros doesn’t mean I want to read about all seven kingdoms. And after killing off so many of the characters I was already invested in, what makes you think I would want to get invested in new characters that you will slaughter. Time to start moving toward a conclusion, getting Dany off her throne in Meereen and moving across the Narrow Sea, bringing the White Walkers down from The Land of Always Winter for their big conflict with Dany and her Dragons (assuming that is how the story will end). But I doubt even the next book, The Winds of Winter, will start to significantly resolve these storylines.

I’m not giving up on the story. I’ll continue to read the books as (and if) they are released. But I’m not paying extra for the TV series. I’ll just wait for that distant day when these next few seasons are released on DVD or Blu-ray or finally make their way to Netflix. Because from where I'm sitting, the best parts of this story are behind us, and unless Martin does something truly spectacular with the next book, I have no reason to follow it in more than one medium.

PTSD and Alien Abduction - Slaughterhouse-Five Part 2: Crash Course Literature 213

Aliens, Time Travel, and Dresden - Slaughterhouse-Five Part I: Crash Course Literature 212

Race, Class, and Gender in To Kill a Mockingbird: Crash Course Literature 211

To Kill a Mockingbird, Part I - Crash Course Literature 210

Sickly Celsius

I'm posting this in response to Chuck Wendig's weekly Flash Fiction Challenge. It may be cheating to post something that I had already written and that is actually a fragment of a larger piece, but at under 500 words it's only a little cheating.

You must own nothing but yourself. You must make your own life, live your own life, and die your own death ... or else you will die another's.

Alfred Bester

Sickly Celsius

File: MRS12252654 - terminal

There were pieces of me all over the desert.

Bright pieces reflecting the last few rays of the setting sun.

Dull, burned and pitted pieces scattered among the dark rocks, barely distinguishable from them in the grey tones perceptible to my damaged optical processors.

Some of the pieces were still talking to each other. Components connected via quantum pairing could hardly be severed by the force of a simple ion grenade. So I could see out of an undamaged optical sensor two meters north of my thought processors, and could hear through a strand of audio web half imbedded in the iron oxide sand fourteen meters southeast. There were even a couple of micro-motors trying to reconnect the pieces of an ankle joint twelve meters to the west.

Although destroyed, I was not yet dead.

I heard them coming before they stepped into my field of vision, the familiar sound of The Walker’s boots across the rocky sand and the unidentified lighter steps that my logic circuits guessed would be The Agent’s. I hadn’t seen The Walker since Sombertown, five days and 157 kilometers ago, and had no idea what he was doing here. Now. At the end. The Agent, of course, had caught me unaware with her ion grenade.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” The Walker’s voice was not as calm as I remembered. 

“Why do you think?” she replied. Stepping into my view, I could finally see her as she was. Her glamours had dissolved, leaving behind a tall woman wearing the skin tight, oil-slick black uniform of an ARIES Operative. Her real mask was dark, with a bright crescent “man in the moon” symbol emblazoned over the left eye. Her short hair looked silver-grey to my damaged processors, was more likely blond or light auburn. “What part of homicidal android did you fail to understand?” she asked.

“Not anymore.” The Walker nudged my optical sensor and my sight fell back toward the sky. He was standing above me in those loose fitting pilgrim robes. Still rejecting the social convention, he wore no mask. His skin seemed darker and less wrinkled then I remembered, but my optical acuity was failing fast. He bent down to look me in the ‘eye’, as if he knew that I could see him. “What are the four noble truths?” he asked.

To Be is To Suffer.

qrp://112385579901.xxx
transmitting recall protocols
data transfer initiated

Things Fall Apart, Part 2: Crash Course Literature 209

If One Finger Brought Oil - Things Fall Apart part I: Crash Course Literature 208