Pick Six!
04 May 2012 Leave a Comment
Hello there!!
Fellow Seton Hill graduate, Heidi Ruby Miller, as graciously had me stop by her blog to Pick Six! Six questions, six answers. Stop by, leave a comment, pass it on!
http://heidirubymiller.blogspot.com/2012/05/heidis-pick-six-kate-martin.html?spref=fb
(link wasn’t working, and has now been fixed.)
And don’t forget: Eternal Shadows is out and available! If you haven’t picked up your copy yet….what are you waiting for? ^_^
If you have read it, please leave a review either on Amazon or Goodreads, or both! Find Eternal Shadows on Facebook, and find me on Twitter! @katewmartin
I ‘d love to hear from you!
Relic
13 Apr 2012 2 Comments
Monsters Blog #13
Welcome, welcome, to the last of the monsters blogs. The 13th, oddly enough, on Friday, the 13th of April.
Generally, this is my kind of monster. I love mythology, I love history, and I especially love when the lines between the two blur. Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child certainly do this in Relic. It focuses around a museum exhibit soon to be opened called Superstition–unfortunately, bodies are beginning to turn up.
The book starts off as expected, with people making their way through the jungles in search of ancient artifacts and proof of a legendary people and their monster, the Mbwun, a lizard like creature. Of course, they all end up dead. And then comes chapter two–a man in the warehouse where the items have been kept. He ends up dead too. Chapter three–two kids in the museum. Also soon dead.
I get the point. It kills things, and has been for years while it slowly made its way to New York City.
The head-hopping, which really only appeared when the authors introduced the museum setting, switching from the security guard to the older brother, Billy, to the younger brother (who apparently has no name, even when we’re in the POV of his older sibling) was a bit unbearable. Mostly, for the very reason that it didn’t make sense. Billy knows his brother’s name. We can know it. Normally, that might have been the end of my reading for this book, (I’m rather unforgiving), but I forged ahead so I would be able to write this blog, and because I had high hopes for this monster.
By the end of chapter 8 they killed a dog, and no one was in tears over it. I think by now we know my feelings on that . . .
The creature itself is revealed slowly and generally well, creating a decent level of suspense. First the bodies, then a claw found during an autopsy. Hints and images that began to build an image in the reader’s mind before anything was actually seen. However, the book as a whole was a bit long and more than a bit dry and I found myself begging the authors to just get on it with it and get to the “good part.” The science talk and museum politics were interesting, but not so much so that I wanted as much as I got. And why is it, that in almost all these books, people get disemboweled and take the time to wonder at it? It’s cliche to me now. And people dying has become boring.
And so I continued on through this lengthy book–waiting for the monster. Waiting, and waiting. Now, there’s something to the act of keeping the mystery and so keeping the creature out of sight, but in this case I just wanted it! Give me the creature, give me the mythology! I craved it. And all I got for the longest time was science, science and more science. The only parts that were truly interesting were with the writer, Smithback, who kept trying to ferret out the controversies of the museum, despite being told to leave them alone. His chapters were by far the most entertaining, and tending to move the plot along more than most others.
It takes 113 pages, but finally we get to see the figurine. The Mbwun. Scales, long forearms, crouching posture, and all with something oddly human to it. He Who Walks On All Fours. A devil of the Amazon, which little is known about. AND it has claws and limbs just like the speculated killer.
Of course, something lurks in the shadows, terrorizing the grad student Margo right after this revelation.
…but it was only a cop. Or was it?
Back to the creature itself. The authors chose to build it slowly with scientific discovering, DNA readings and other interpretations. Again, I love science and history, and creatures in general, but the balance between enough and too much kept getting flipped back and forth. I felt like I was on a roller coaster ride between my eyes glazing over, and eating up the theories. When finally deciphered, we’re given a creature that lives by its scent of smell, that lives off the fibers in the crates it came to this country in. However, when it runs out of those fibers, only the hormones from a human hypothalamus will do.
Basically I’m thinking we needed an excuse to make it eat brains. But sure, I’ll go with it. Let me just ask this–the creature has been living quietly for the better part of 20 years (or something like that) why suddenly make such a mess at the exhibit opening? Answer, it was cool, and it made for a frenzy in a book that otherwise was a lot of people either dying alone or sitting at a desk. Okay. Once again, go forth.
The last 100 pages were relatively satisfying. A good bloody chase through a museum usually is. The creature looms and lurks, and I especially liked the gargoyle reference. But I can’t help but be disappointed by the method of killing. A gun. Shot through the eye. Really? This great creature that eats brains and comes from the amazon and is just generally pretty interesting, and we get the boring method of bullets for its end? There are far more creative ways to kill things than guns, but that might be my own personal opinion. I tend to write books in worlds without guns.
I was ready to say I liked the book after that. Until I got a lecture chapter that felt like I was sitting in class having the entire thing explained to me, and then an epilogue with a “mad scientist” who reveals the mystery. It was a fantastic story, great mythology, with the whole plant relationship and the legendary creature being something that came from this rare plant. I loved it, but I wish it had been revealed within the actual story rather than in solitary chapters at the end.
All in all, I think there was a lot of potential here, and a lot of it was realized. The myth is great, the science is occasionally interesting. But in the end . . . the book was just too long.
Snow
06 Apr 2012 7 Comments
Monsters Blog #12
Snow…yeah, didn’t have much of that this year. Good thing, I suppose.
First, let me say this. Characters who curse in nearly ever sentence that comes out of their mouth do not come off as likable. In fact, they come off as crude and uneducated and not anyone I want to spend any amount of time with. Yes, people curse, but not that much, and this is fiction, we have the freedom to make people better. Besides, not everyone curses like that. Use it as a character device. Sure, I’ll go with it when it’s a quirk of a character or two, but not when it’s every person gracing the page. Especially when talking to people they’ve never met before. What a first impression! By the end of the first chapter I was ready to scream, and that’s a shame since I loved the prologue. It was quick, simple, to the point, and it built the suspense and the element of approaching danger for the main characters.
And second, why did it take Todd so long to call his ex and tell her about the cancelled flight? And why was she so awful about it? It’s SNOWING. Hard. Flights are cancelled. The man is on his way, why start a fight? Third–no one needs to get anywhere so desperately that they need to get in a car during a massive snow storm. I have little faith in the intelligence of these people by page 26/246.
Anyway. The suspense of the storm and the mystery that something odd is going on is well done. Storms are frightening to begin with, but when you add a creepy hitch hiker lost in the snow, and then his faceless daughter–quite alarming. Certainly enough to make the reader wary of the situation. Then, of course, we come upon the abandoned town. The set up is complete, and satisfying.
Entrails everywhere! And . . . zombie snow?
I guess that would be one way of describing what these things are. Once humans, now snow monsters that explode like an old beanbag when shot. (I love that image, by the way.) Snow monsters with scythe arms that they use to get inside you and take over. It’s an interesting concept, to say the least. I had to take quite a bit of time to wrap my brain around the fact that I shouldn’t really think of them as “snow.” Snow is soft, these things are not. Snow can’t cut you and make you bleed. Ice can, and ice is a cousin of snow, so perhaps that’s where the idea came from. I really like the idea of this “pretty” monster, too. It sparkles like tinsel, and glitters in the light. The lack of grotesque imagery when it came to the monster itself was a nice change, and effective really. Sparkly things distract a lot of people. A lot of the townspeople probably went down about two seconds after thinking, “Ooo, sparkly.”
One of the things I appreciated most in this book though, (once they were done cursing for no reason) were the characters. I felt like this was one of the first times we had a cast of characters who had stories, histories, fully functional personalities. The short stories don’t have as much time for such things, and while The Wolfman did have a fleshed out cast, others like Breeding Ground mostly just had feeding fodder for the creature being let loose. With a few scenes of character development in between the carnage, I felt like I was reading a novel rather than a collection of different ways to describe gore.
As a monster, this snow is probably the most interesting that we’ve covered in some ways, and at the same time, not all that thought provoking. As I said before, I like the whole “sparkly” factor, and the image of blood on snow is timeless and always a good direction to go. But other than that, this felt a lot like a zombie novel. People get infected, people get eaten, survivors run, survivors get eaten, run, die, run die. It wasn’t all that original as a stalk and chase concept. The scariest thing was that Chris kid. Since the entire premise of the book is people will be killed by these snow creatures, I was never really concerned at any other point–I expected people to die. But that Chris…wasn’t sure what he would actually do. And thank god someone showed up with fire. Wouldn’t that be the obvious solution to a snow monster? Why grab for guns first?
All in all, I can’t decide if I liked this book or not. Somethings were a welcome relief, others were just . . . par for the course at this point. Characters, good. Plot, satisfactory. Monster. . . puzzling. Were they aliens? They got sucked up into the ‘”clouds,” were those ships of some sort? And they had an effect on the electronics in the area. They were smart enough to target isolated areas, but what exactly were they trying to achieve? A take over? It didn’t seem to work. Too messy, yet again. Why make such a fuss when you need to assimilate? I’d love to see a story about a creature that is a skin stealer and actually does it without anyone noticing right away.
In the end, I suppose I don’t really need all the answers, though I like them. The epilogue was good for me. That lingering threat of the man and his daughter, moving along, spreading the infestation once more. A good end. But mostly, this book left me wondering about a lot of things. Perhaps in another few days I’ll know what I really think of this creature as a part of the world of monsters. For right now, I’ll say it’s high up on my list of cool zombies. Or should it be on my alien list?
Human Remains
28 Mar 2012 6 Comments
Monsters Blog # 11
I enjoyed the tone and feel of this story much more than some of the others we’ve read by Clive Barker. In fact, this story reminded me a lot of The Shadow, by Hans Christian Anderson. I wonder if Barker had read it himself before writing this tale. In some ways, I think The Shadow is darker than Human Remains, since the doppelganger steals the man’s life in a far more sinister way, where as here, the creature is almost given permission by Gavin.
The Shadow is one of my favorite lesser known fairy tales, and it’s one that I use in my fiction classes as a way to expose my students to the darker nature of fairy tales. In The Shadow, a man sees his shadow across the street in another building. As time goes on, the shadow grows and changes, becoming more and more human, while the man becomes more a shadow. By the end of the tale, the shadow (though he vows to care for the man) passes the man off as insane, and marries a princess himself. The tale reflects the steady decline of the man, from something living, to something that is only a half-life.
With Human Remains, we have this creature who lives by stealing faces and personas, always living, dying, and living again. While the creature (always just called “it” in the tale) bathes in blood during the first month of its life as a way to become more human, I never found it to be frightening in the way I found The Shadow. This creature guards Gavin–it’s intended life–saving him, living with him, even appearing to care for him as he assumes his life. Gavin doesn’t seem to change much over the course of the story. He never felt much to begin with, having closed himself off from life. When the creature takes his life from him, he simply sees that the creature lives better, more humanly, than he does, even crying at their father’s grave. When Gavin walks away at the end, yes, he is in a place where he exists outside of the life he once had, but it doesn’t seem to really be an effect of the creature’s stealing. The Shadow sucks away the man’s life, where as here, the doppelganger assumes the life, and does it better.
I find this creature more fascinating than anything else. I hesitate to call it a “monster.” The concept of something that assumes, assimilates, and adapts in such a way is something that I could have an absolute field day with in my own writing. It could go hand in hand with the evil twin story, or even just the wish to be in two places at once. What if you could have this second you? With little to no degradation of yourself? I can think of plenty of characters and situations in which someone would be willing to spill a little blood to have a second. In fact, I think my wheels are spinning already…
Reynolds was the most conflicted in the story, unable to live with what he had done in order to help feed the creature and bring it to a place where it could once again find life. But, being a character who’s POV was not really used until he died, I didn’t feel like I knew him all that well. Gavin’s story was far more engaging, and I cared what he was thinking, what he was doing, and how his relationship with the doppelganger was progressing.
Aside from all that, there was some great foreshadowing in the beginning, with Gavin seeing himself and others as statues that had either been finished, or left only half carved. There were also some very lovely lines, such as “Gavin left Reynolds in the ruin of Rome,” I just really liked that for some reason. Something…poetic about it. Especially since Gavin was about to be left in ruins himself.
All in all, a great story. Didn’t see much “monster” myself, but I liked it all the same.
The Thing
21 Mar 2012 5 Comments
Monsters Blog #10
Why the dogs?? Why?
If I hadn’t been obligated to watch this movie, it would have gotten turned off immediately. Involving the dogs crosses my line of tolerance.
Yet, I watched it. I had been warned that the movie was gross, which I’m grateful for, because I think that allowed me to put up the necessary filters in my brain to get through this movie. The plot is fairly simple: researchers in Antarctica find alien thing, it tries to do whatever it is it wants to do, they fight, they die, they win?
The fear factor here is one of the most basic, in my opinion. Though, being basic doesn’t mean bad or weak. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say one of the most effective. The Thing operates under that old fear that perhaps we can’t trust even ourselves. The enemy looks like us. It’s something that has plagued humanity throughout history, not just in science fiction and horror. Every time a new world was discovered, with new people, who looked a little different, though still obviously human, the reaction was almost always to fear, and to conquer. Once the characters here realize that this creature is assimilating it’s victims they almost instantly turn on one another. Their society (so to speak) breaks down, and no one knows who to trust. Humans are such social creatures, I think being alone scares us most of all. And being alone in a room full of people is worse.
I did have a few favorite parts. For various reasons. I enjoyed as they locked away the first of the burned bodies. One man (I couldn’t keep track of all their names, just MacReady, Childs, Blair and “Doc”) says they should really burn the corpses, get rid of them completely. His companion responds, No, think of the Nobel Prize!
Idiot. Yet it’s so fun to yell at the screen and to mock the dumb decisions of characters in these kinds of movies. So that was fun. Also quite accurate when speaking to the general human condition. Fame almost always outweighs common sense.
I loved when the Thing was assimilating the one guy, then his head split like a Venus Fly Trap and he ate another. That was . . . quite funny to watch actually. Why do I laugh at these things? Defense mechanism probably… And the fingers in the face at the very end, when Blair assimilated his friend. Much cleaner method. Made far more sense to me.
Oh! And the moving blood! That was awesome! How are you supposed to defeat a creature that lives on that cellular a level?
Which brings me to my comments on the monster itself. The Thing. If the goal is assimilation, then why go about it in such a messy way? And what does it seem so bad at it? Is this a recent evolutionary skill? It’s been frozen for a long time, I would think this process would be a bit more refined. Everything was just sloppy and gross. Sara and I were discussing it, she said perhaps the goal was to be disgusting, and nothing more. If so, brava. Well done. If not, then let’s go back to science class.
Also, was it absorbing people and gaining new forms, or making new forms? With all the killing and burning I couldn’t really tell, but it never seemed to be multiplying, just assimilating. That confused me. I wasn’t sure what The Thing’s goal was–take over, or just kill things and place dress-up. I think ultimately it was supposed to be multiplying, since Blair had his calculations about the world becoming infected, but that wasn’t really lining up with what I was seeing. Which goes back to the fingers in the face being way better than the venus fly trap–neater, cleaner, less obvious. Of course, then it goes all Alien with a weird creature popping out of another weird creature’s chest cavity . . . Again, gross. Brava.
Aside from the wishy-washy science though, I think it does the other aspects of the fear well. You can’t trust your friends. You have to weigh your own life against that of the world. Escape, possibly with an infected comrade and endanger the world? Or, stay, fight, burn down the whole place and freeze to death in the end. Sure hope they got the thing. Burning didn’t seem to work all that well before. And it’s blood moves. One drop . . . that’s all it needs. Now that I think about it, I’m not convinced anyone won. I think The Thing lives.
The Wolfman
16 Mar 2012 2 Comments
Monsters blog #9
The first few pages of this book didn’t give me much hope. I had never read a novelization of a movie before–mostly because I prefer to experience a story in whatever medium it was originally meant to be in. I’ve learned over the years to be forgiving of movies based on my favorite books, knowing that what works on the page doesn’t always translate well to visuals and so occasionally things need to be changed. With that in mind, I went into this book. The first scene though, with Ben running through the woods, was so clearly something that should have been visual that often I didn’t think it was having the intended effect. The POV shifts were sometimes irritating, but again, related to the issue of changing the medium of the story. Lawrence was generally the POV character, though the narration still tended towards omniscient, but when he would leave a room, and the scene continued on in whoever’s head was left–it was disconcerting and often pulled me from the story. All that aside, the text has a very lyrical quality, which I much appreciated. Jonathan Maberry does an admirable job of weaving a visual tale into something literary.
Thankfully, the book got better from that point on.
Now, I’m not saying that I loved it. But I liked it. It was enjoyable at times, and my few quips are mostly things that still apply to the whole notion of transferring a story from one medium to another, so really the story doesn’t have much in the way of major problems.
I loved the recurring image of the moon, to the point where the moon, as the goddess of the hunt, became her own character. It was a great tool for signaling things to come, and that ever watchful eye in the sky that would bring about the power of the curse. I thought that was very well done. And, speaking of which, this is something that works only on the page. In the movie, it was just shots of the moon.
The story is full of things “oh-so Victorian,” and that was fun. The Thames (which got its obligatory mention in by page 18 on the kindle app.) The character of Singh, bringing in the tie with India. Walking sticks, carriages, the theatre, all so well placed and, as such, working as simple, yet effective world building. The gypsies were great, as were the townfolk. It all came together to build the myth and legend of the wolfman slowly and organically. We hear people talk of legends and old stories, of attacks in the past. People speak of the full moon as a time of danger, and of a “beast” that prowls the night. By the time the word “werewolf” finally hits the page (51) we are very ready for it. And don’t forget Inspector Aberline. What’s a Victorian tale without that legendary man? Sometimes I wonder if he ever thought he would be such fodder for fiction writers in the years to come. If it’s Victorian, and a crime, Aberline shows up. In this case, I could have done without him. The poor man is become cliche. (Historically accurate, maybe, but overused as well.)
Lawrence is an interesting character. At first, he’s hard to like, being so cold and discontented with life and all the people around him. Nothing arouses any kind of meaningful emotion in him. But then he gets this letter telling him that his brother has gone missing, and suddenly he’s human, and worth caring about. I loved that quick turn around. Any longer and I wouldn’t have wanted to know his story, but the fact that his brother could bring about these feelings of love in an otherwise “dead” man, that was worth reading about. (Side note: I hate it when a POV character gets a letter, and I don’t get to see what it says when they do. Don’t make me wait. It makes me mad.)
Lovely as all that is, we’re really here to talk about the monster. The wolfman. One of the classics. One of my favorites. It stuck me as oddly coincidental that the History Channel and the Discovery and Science channels all happened to show their own wolfman shows this week while we were reading this. Odd, but beneficial, as it gave me other angles from which to look at this monster. I was surprised to learn on one of those shows that the original myth of the wolfman was a human man who took on the bloodthirsty characteristics of the wolf, not in fact a shapeshifter. The actual change seems to have come along later, much like the sunlight portion of the vampire myth. In any case, this is an example of one of those monsters that is the “monster-within.” That tug of war between what makes us human, and what could make us nothing more than an animal. The Jekyl and Hyde aspect of ourselves. How dark is the dark side of humanity? Is it enough to turn us into something else completely? Could we fight it? The wolfman, the werewolf, is that potential for that part of ourselves to be unlocked and out of control. I like that this story is based more in the original concept of the monster, the bloodthirsty, driven creature. There are a lot of books out there now (books, I enjoy) where the werewolf has become just as sexy and mysterious as the vampire. Something to be invited into your bedroom at night, rather than running and hiding from. This wolfman tears people’s faces off. Literally, off. In fact, people got their faces torn off in one swipe so many times that I started to twirl my finger at the act of violence. Yet, I loved all the small changes that came after Lawrence was “marked.” The heightened sense of smell, the fear of the horse, the reaction to Gwen’s closeness, etc. All those things were great for easing into the transition from man to monster.
The monster is never so simple though. And we have, in fact, two wolfmen. Lawrence, and his father, Sir John. Sir John is really more of a monster than Lawrence. He leaves his son loose on his first night as the wolf, knowing he will kill and mame and destroy. He sent him away as a child, covering up the unfortunate reality that the young boy had seen his father kill his own mother–a trauma that haunts Lawrence his whole life. Sir John sends his son to an asylum! Never a good thing, especially back then.
And of course, Lawrence ends up back in an asylum once he succumbs to the change. Which was SO one of my favorite parts, despite my general dislike of asylum scenes (since they usually involve innocent, sane people.) I absolutely love when all the doctors assemble to observe. “We shall prove to you that the moon holds no sway.” Ha! Let me grab the popcorn. It’s an absolutely brilliant scene where science gets it’s tushie handed to it by the mystical and magical. Science thinks it’s so smart. Go ahead, sit there while the moon rises on the cursed man. What’s that, you say? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the screams of your disembowelment.
Fantastic scene.
The romance with Gwen is natural and well realized, and it lends itself well to the tragedy of the end. Not only because of the loss of love to Lawrence, but to Gwen, who has now loved twice, and lost them both. And it is her strength that prevails in the end, both ending suffering, and bringing more. Likewise, it is for the love of Gwen that Lawrence finally finds the strength to finish his father.
So maybe that’s the moral of the story. Love conquers all, even the animal nature that can be unleashed by bloody curses.
A good monster, that. One that can be defeated by love. It is, after all, one of the most human emotions we possess. And it’s what makes the final scene, with Gwen desperately trying to reach her love, and finding him only having the strength to pull the trigger, heart-wrenching and terrible.
And who doesn’t love an epic monster on monster fight scene? All teeth and snarls and howls. Once again, probably more exciting on the screen, but Maberry handled it well. All in all, I think we have my favorite monster of the lot so far. Complex, rich, emotional, all with an element of the uncontrollable. I love human monsters, and this one hits the nail on the head. My favorite stories are always about overcoming the darkness, and that’s what’s done here.
(I feel like there are a million more things I could say about this one. The magic of the gypsies, the intricacies of interactions with other animals and so many more characters, but this blog is running long…)
Alien
07 Mar 2012 6 Comments
Monsters Blog #8 (Updated)
I think I went into this movie with an odd disadvantage. I’d never seen it before. Never. I know, everyone’s seen it. But not me. Today was my first time. However, I have grown up in a culture that references this movie ALL THE TIME. And it is from that which my disadvantage stems.
I may have never seen Alien before, but I know what it is. That creature with the two mouths. I’ve seen it on Family Guy, with a silly high pitched voice and humorous dialogue. That thing bursting out of the guy’s stomach? Yeah, seen that too. In Spaceballs. Afterwards it does a little song and dance. There are others, I’m sure, but I don’t think I need to list them. I am a part of a generation that has been desensitized to this monster. And as such, I spent most of this movie rolling my eyes, mocking the characters, and even outright laughing.
Truth be told, this saddens me a little.
But all that aside, I can see what the film makers were trying to achieve. The movie opens in virtual silence, and that silence drags on for some time. Silence is what space is, after all, and the sound only comes into play when the people are awoken from their stasis slumber. A really great technique. It was very effective for setting up the feel of the rest of the movie.
I’m a huge fan of never fully revealing the creature in question, and that was done quite well. The alien was also fairly believable and “lifelike” and once again that’s coming from someone who grew up on first Henson’s puppetry, then computer generated images. (Many times I still think the puppets were better. ^_^) The scarcity of the alien helps lend itself to its terror–the unknown is far scarier than what we can see, feel, and begin to interpret. As soon as you show the alien there’s room for analysis; where a weakness may lie, the location of vital organs, etc. Keeping something a secret keeps the prey from making concrete plans.
The isolation of space is another factor, but I don’t think it was really used to its full extent. They were stranded, yes, out of reach of any help, but because of that they didn’t even go through the paces of trying to find a way to get help. I think a lot of times that loss of hope can add to the horror, and there wasn’t any of that here. There was no hope of rescue in the first place.
The special effects in general were really great. I wish I could have watched it on a bigger screen. (I had to rent it from Amazon on my laptop.) From what I’ve heard from others who have watched it, and even those who saw it in the theater when it was first released, the visual effects were stunning, and terrifying. Even by today’s standards, the use of light and the movement of the creature were enough to illustrate the constant uncertainty of the situation.
All that said, a lot of the things that I think were meant to add to the suspense were in fact things that created distance between me and the movie. It took 35 minutes for the thing to grab onto that guy’s face. Too long. I was lost by that point, and the movie never really got my attention back. It took over an hour for the big alien to finally show up, and for a two hour movie, that’s a long time for the antagonist to be largely out of the picture. Really, I think the best part was the end with Ripley alone on the shuttle, but even by then I was so un-invested in the characters that I was simply chanting at her to hurry up and jettison the thing. (Along with simply begging the movie to end.) I think they also tried to play with the idea of “quiet” far too much. No one was using their stage voice. Ever. I had to keep turning up the volume, and still there was dialogue lost. I hate when people whisper in the movies, it rarely works, and there was a lot of whispering going on in Alien.
And, really? Again with the birthing and sex imagery? Are men really that terrified of/confused by/disgusted by the act of giving birth that nearly half of the stories we have read in this course focus on that kind of imagery? I’m not judging, I’m just inquiring. The creature on the guy’s face, essentially raping him and implanting the “child” alien into him to be grown and later birthed. And, let’s face it, the baby alien is rather phallic looking. It also seemed that the Alien was more interested in the men of the crew than the women. The women were only attacked last, after all the men were gone (for the most part). It just makes me curious. I seem to be sensing a theme in these horror stories . . .
This was also one of the first stories we’ve looked into that doesn’t seem to really say anything about the human condition. Ash (I think that was his name) who let the alien inside in the first place, turned out to be an android, so his actions can’t count. And other than that, people were just running around. I suppose there were some instances of ingenuity (making the weapons and the sensor), and some level of planning, but mostly they seemed to be concerned with their own survival–not thinking of others, not even really grieving when someone was lost. There was little evidence of the relationships between these people, but maybe they didn’t have much of any. After all, they spent most of the voyage in stasis, not interacting. But these are the things that make me care about characters, and I found I didn’t have much to grab onto.
I am disappointed that the movie so disappointed me. It’s largely considered and classic, and I wanted to appreciate it as such. But, alas, I cannot say that I do. Maybe I need a few more watchings, but I can’t say I’m eager to give them.
I am glad the cat survived. This movie would be in the trash (had I a copy to put there) had it not. I draw the line at cats. So in that respect, Alien is okay by me. ^_^
World War Z
02 Mar 2012 2 Comments
Monsters blog #7
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what I want to write about this book. There’s so much here that I’m convinced I’m going to forget things as I keep reading. As such, I am writing this blog in two parts. Yes, I could just draft and add, etc, but I think the point that this book is so intricate that I need to collect my thoughts as I go is important. So, two parts it is.
PART ONE
My initial thought when I started reading this book was “Wow.” Max Brooks had put together a novel with such detail and planning that I can’t possibly conceive of what went into drafting and polishing this book. I know it would never work with my writing process. Never. It is absolutely remarkable how he’s put together each step. It actually feels like a collection of first hand experiences, woven together in chronological order to tell the story as a whole. He takes you through people’s first reactions to “patient zero,” the first outbreaks, smuggling of refugees, and initial government responses. I loved how the backstory slipped in little by little. A small reference to Japan here, an old war reference there. It was just enough to give me an idea of what had happened, without stopping and giving me an entire history lesson.
However, as things went on I began to feel like I had a History test in two days. A test I was going to be hard-pressed to pass, given all the information I couldn’t possibly easily retain. The lack of back story began to be a hindrance–leaving me out of what I thought may be key details. When it hit me the most was when an interviewed soldier kept referring to “Zack.” I knew it was a term for zombie, that much was clear, but I didn’t know where it had come from, or why it was used. Little things like that began to creep in more and more.
Not to say that I’m not enjoying the book. I am. But it’s beginning to take on the feel of a history text, and less that of a story. I’m wishing I could turn on the History Channel to learn all of this, rather than read it. I was never good with text books. I prefer to learn by hearing when it comes to history and other subjects. For me, reading is entertainment only. And that is putting a bit of distance between me and this story which I so want to enjoy.
So far, the parts that held the most impact for me were the chapters with Sharon–the young woman who had been witness to an attack when she was 4– and the interview with the man who turned out to be Paul Redeker. Sharon’s story just told what an absolute trauma a zombie attack could be at such a young age. Her’s is only one story, but just imagine how many more there would be. In this world, there would be entire generations of scarred childhoods, and that could have all sorts of ramifications. Sharon alone is terrifying with her perfect recall, her imitations. And the sight of a grown woman, forever stuck , is chilling.
Paul Redeker was a great twist. After hearing all about this heartless man who made plans concerning who should live and who should die, a man who felt emotion was a hindrance, and then to find out that the one telling the story is, in fact, him! I actually sat up in my seat at that twist, my brain pulled back from it’s history class flashbacks to a place where I remembered I was reading a work of fiction–of entertainment.
Lastly (at least for my first part) I’m struck by how real this all seems. I can’t help but think how if something like this actually happened, and someone compiled a collection of first hand accounts, it would sound so much the same. Brooks seems to have captured the human response perfectly. He brings us the cold, calculating politicians; the soldiers following, or disobeying orders; the civilians caught in the thick of it; the doctors; the smugglers. The reactions are sometimes sad, but true.
I have no clue how this is going to become a movie. There are so many small stories all coming together. It will have to be an interpretation to the full extent of the word, I think.
PART TWO
I so want to know how long it took for Max Brooks to write this book. Honestly. It’s like he thought of EVERYTHING. He even included happenings on the international space station! Seriously, I don’t know if that would have even crossed my mind.
This book really picks up in the second half, taking on a completely different tone than the beginning. I found much of the imagery here to be far more “horrific” than the beginning had been. The interviews turn to retellings of facing down these zombies and the wreckage they leave behind. But even among all the tales of carnage and military plans, I was still struck by the reality this book brings to life. In fact, the zombies are more a backdrop than anything else. Yes, they are the cause of everything, but really, they appear far less frequently in the book than other humans. I found myself thinking that the monster in this book isn’t really the zombie outbreak at all, but the reactions it caused in every human, in every country all over the world. Again, yes, the zombies are terrifying–one of my favorite monsters so far simply because of the absolute hopelessness they contaminate the world with–but what’s even more frightening are some of the first ways humanity deals with the crisis. Who to leave behind? Who is sacrificed? Who is worth saving and how? That’s terrifying. That one human life could be weighed against another . . . I shudder to think. And yet, it happens. All the time. In our own, zombie free world. The real horror here is what we as humans are capable of.
There were times that this book became too political or too military for me to really understand what was going on. It’s a personal thing, I’m sure, but when I came to chapters where it was all procedure and talk about policies and whatnot, my eyes started to glaze over. The chapters that drew me were the ones that were far more personal. Like the story of the blind man surviving in Japan. I read every word. His story spoke to me. I loved his attitude and his journey to finding his way to where he felt he belonged in this new, twisted world. Those were the stories I’ll remember. There are others, sadly, that I can barely recall even now, with the book still sitting beside me and the reading fresh in my head. Most of those are the longer stories–they simply went on too long. I couldn’t retain the information. (Though, once again, I applaud Mr. Brooks on the thoroughness and the extent of his book. I am reeling at how much he came up with. Literally.)
But what I liked the best were the final stories in the book. They were all short, to the point, building a picture of the world as it was left to exist in the aftermath. The rebuilding, the study, the despair and the broken minds. The minds that survived. And what I think really drove the enormity of the changes and devastation home was the extinction of the whales. A simple addition to a complex story, something tucked into the last few pages, but something that resonates. It broke my heart.
As a study of monsters, I think this book does it best so far. It exemplifies what can happen world wide. Most monster stories devastate a town, or a country. These zombies took out the whole world. And in doing so, they turned many men and women into monsters themselves, and in the world of World War Z many couldn’t live with what they had done.
That’s a monster. And, to me, that’s horror.
The Yattering and Jack
22 Feb 2012 2 Comments
Monsters Blog # 6 (Updated)
Oh, this poor creature. And that stupid jerk knows!
This story is so, so different from the last story we read by Clive Barker–Rawhead Rex. This story is . . . tragically comical. The Yattering is a lesser demon charge with the task of tormenting and creating madness in a very banal man who’s mother never followed through on her Hellish bargain. But Jack just can’t be broken, and instead The Yattering is the one being tormented, and his master, Beelzebub, will not grant him an escape, not even death. Poor thing.
And for Jack’s part, The Yattering’s intended victim, he knows, and he shrugs everything off, his knowledge turning into his protection, and The Yattering’s torture.
This is a Christmas story, of course, and all sorts of things happen in The Yattering’s desperation. The Turkey is cooking alive, and comes flying out; the decorated tree attacks, and it’s these things–happening when Jack’s daughters are home–that finally drives Jack to action, rather than passive aggressive indifference. With one daughter mad, and another arguing with him, Jack and The Yattering begin a battle in the doorway of the house. The Yattering may not leave, and Jack knows it.
The Yattering ends up enslaved to Jack.
And I must say, I hate Jack. And all I want to do is take The Yattering home and let him go back to tormenting people successfully. I can’t help but think that Jack didn’t have to be such a jerk about the whole thing once he was done. The Yattering was only doing his job, and it certainly wasn’t working, so have heart! I think the real monster in this story is the pitiless and the compassion-less Jack. If he were the “hero” of the story, then he wouldn’t have acted in such a manner at the end. But, we’re not really looking for a hero here, are we? I get the feeling that was not Barker’s intention. Rather, I think he’s once again coming off as someone who certainly doesn’t bring laughter and sunshine to a room. Your personality is showing, Mr. Barker, and I don’t much care for it. I wonder, too, how likeable this story will be among the class for exactly this reason. I certainly did not sympathize with Jack, and so his victory in the end is unsatisfying to me. That said, I’ve been trying to think of an ending that would have given me the satisfaction I sought, without damaging the story Barker chose to tell. Most endings I come up with alter the entire tone of the story. If The Yattering wins, and Jack is finally thwarted in all his casual torment, then we lose the feeling of an inescapable doom. If Jack is compassionate, then he becomes a truer hero; and if The Yattering was then changed by that compassion, and they became a sort of friends, then we’re left without that sense that this isn’t the end of the horror–the horror goes on, just in a much more mundane, lack of flying, house-working doing kind of way. I could go on and on. So, I suppose there is no other ending for the story, not without telling a completely new tale. The horror of this story is in the inevitability of The Yattering’s torment, more so than the awful things he inflicts upon Jack.
As for the story itself; its well written for the most part. Head-hopping happens, but I’ve learned to accept this in these short stories. It certainly made me feel for both characters, and even for those poor daughters who got caught up in it all. And really, that’s what a good story should do.
30 Days of Night
15 Feb 2012 3 Comments
Monsters blog #5
I remember when the movie came out, and I saw pieces of it, and I have heard of this graphic novel before this, but let me just say that when I saw the introduction from Mr. Clive Barker on the first page, I decided to alter my expectations. (After seeing what Barker likes in his own writing, and learning a bit about him outside his writing…yeah.)
I also have to point out, that as an avid reader of manga, reading this graphic novel left to right was…disconcerting and odd. (For those who don’t know, manga are Japanese graphic novels and read right to left.) I kept having to stop myself from reading it wrong. Oops. ^_^
And as for the art style–not a fan. Thought I was dealing with two men until page 10. They looked exactly the same. Not exactly good for character development in a highly visual story. However, the color differences between New Orleans and Alaska were a nice touch. Made scene changes easy to see.
Onto the vampires themselves. They were pretty good, though perhaps a bit flat. Nowadays, a lot of people are on such a crusade against the “sparkly vampires” that have supposedly invaded fiction. Yes, we all know about Twilight, and yes the vampires sparkled, but they aren’t the only vampires out there right now. Cassandra Clare, another YA writer, had vampires in her Mortal Instruments series, and they are a blood-sucking gang/mob, with a hierarchy and violence and all the things that make vampires dark and scary. It’s amazing how one series of books can make an impression so large that all others just get lumped together with them.
These vampires were blood-thirsty animals, looking for nothing more than a quick and easy meal. Which a long dark period in Alaska would certainly give them. But they had no other development to them. Where did they come from? All over the world, I guess, but there was clearly some sort of vampire culture. They were in contact with one another, looking for an opportunity like this. The vampire I really liked was “V” who came in to stop it all for the purposes of protecting that vampire community. He points out how long it took for them to fade into myth–and that that’s how they wanted things. They were safe that way, and a massacre like this would jeopardize that. While still being cruel, and ruthless, V had motive and character and some sense of right and wrong. Twisted, yes, but that’s what we want in a monster. I cheered when he finally stepped in and started to set things right, despite the order to find and kill the remaining survivors.
For me, what I think makes vampires so scary is the fact that they were once human. And occasionally some writers seem to want to forget that aspect when trying to forge something not “sparkly.” That loss of humanity is what makes a vampire what he/she is. They’re not just blood-craving animals with no thought process, they are people who have undergone and change. And maybe they don’t fight the new craving, maybe they give into it. These vampires are often great to read about, showing us the fragility of human nature, and the darkness that may linger inside all of us. Others may choose to fight the craving, but I don’t think that makes them any less a vampire. That struggle can be just as horrifying. The thought that you can fight and fight this dark instinct, but still it can overcome you. Still, you need blood to survive. What do you do? How do you cope? Choices arise, and decisions are made–and maybe you do something you later regret. That’s horror. At least to me.
Case in point, the main character, Eben. He infects himself to save the town, to save his wife. He turns into one of the very monsters at his doorstep. He shows us that other side, that conflicted side. And in the end he allows the sun to end his life as it rises on the life–the saved life–of his wife. Between Eben and V I think we have the best of the vampire options. As for the rest of them, I’m not discounting them. There are plenty of humans who think as selfishly and narrow-mindedly as they do, but as a group, I don’t think they fully appreciate the vampire as a character.
Vampires are complex, and should be complex. Whittling them down to pure instinct is just . . . boring.
End thought–Having all three, the conflicted, the intelligent, and the base vampires all together in one story = a nice well-rounded look at the vampire.
