Book Club - "God Emperor of Dune" by Frank Herbert

 

Dreams are messages from the deep.

 

...

 

Welcome back to Book Club, Fremen. Prophets have a way of dying by violence, and any man who backs into a cave with no exit deserves to die. The prophet that steps up to speak yet finds no escape from the fanatical legions, worshiping at the shrine of Mud'dib's father's skull, will fall to grains of spice upon the edge of a crysknife, precious gift of Shai Hulud. 

Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a human mind --

Yet here I am, typing on my computer, which processes and computes.

God Emperor of Dune is the fourth novel in Frank Herbert's epic Dune saga, and as of finishing I truly think it's my new favorite. Dune is an absolute masterpiece, and one thing I like so much about it is how deconstructionist it is. However this kind of storytelling comes in full swing only after the first novel, and while I like Dune Messiah in concept, I think it doesn't have the same breadth of skill that's present in the very fabric of the first novel. Children of Dune was a good read, but stopped just short of great in some ways. God Emperor of Dune, however, is pure genius -- partly because of how relevant it is, contextually, to how the saga begins. 

Make no mistake, though. This book is masturbatory, pretentious, and obtuse. It's difficult to fully grasp what exactly was going on, and the story is so far up its own ass with weirdness in the setting, the dialogue, the everything, that it is probably far from everyone's cup of tea. 

However, one man's trash truly is another man's treasure. Everything has its niche, and I'm elated to say that God Emperor of Dune is in one of my many niches. I love books that make me think. I love stories that present information through a unique lens, and compound on themselves with one strange twist after the next. This is one of the most atypical stories I've ever experienced. No protagonist hero, classic triumphs, or epic battles to be found. Instead we have a really esoteric, longform diary log, essentially, about the nature of humanity and its pitfalls of faith and leadership, where each chapter is prefaced with our titular character waxing poetic about his thoughts and knowledge, all a guise under the lens of bizarre clone-cross-generational eugenics, thousands of years of feudalism, dodgy Imperium politics, buzzword buzzword meaning! Themes! Themes! Meaning meaning meaning, philosophy?? 

That may look like a dig, but I promise it's not. Droplets of concept in Dune are carried through to the end in God Emperor. The original story's wild tangle of ecology, sociology, and criticizing power structures unwind into each of their own threads, then tie back together through God Emperor Leto II's actions, words, and intentions. And the most fascinating part of it all, to me, is that while he has noble ends, his means are as vile as they come. God Emperor of Dune is a story of lessons, hubris, and a look at the inevitable devil that arises from any one god. When I finished reading it, I went back through my copy of Dune and moved the tabs marking annotations from the side to the top (so it'd fit better on a shelf) and nearly every line I marked was relevant to what happens in this fourth book somehow. Some of them are quite sneakily done, too... 

(For reference; check pages 10, 483, and 537 of the 2020 print/modern English trade paperback of Dune after reading both novels)

It also has a very, very weird romantic subplot -- and in any other book, all of the content written in said subplot would be absolutely atrocious. But once again a unique piece of art proves to me that there truly are no rules; for God Emperor of Dune uses what would traditionally be laughably awkward nerdy-men-writing-women tropes into really fitting portions of the story, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Just due to the nature of this series, it's really hard to talk in-depth about what makes it so great without spoiling a lot of important stuff, so I'll leave it at that. I had to get my thoughts out about it as soon as I finished reading, because it was one of those books that I think I'll remember for years to come, and I want something to point to so I can recall why exactly that is. One final note on that, too; if you're a writer, or an aspiring one, then -- well, first of all, stop aspiring and get to writing -- but I seriously recommend that you read Dune, and at least Dune Messiah after. It's a perfect example of how to write a story that is more than just its plot, as my friend puts it. It teaches invaluable things that you can use in your career -- or hobby -- going forward.

Until next time. I pray to the Old Man of the Desert that you and the water of your kin find peaceful rest and lovely food this Thanksgiving. 

 

- Austin 

Book Club - "My Broken Mariko" by Waka Hirako

Welcome back to Book Club! This time, I'm taking a look at a one-volume drama manga; My Broken Mariko, by Waka Hirako.

Normally, I'm not a huge fan of pure drama stories. Good drama in genre fiction is always a great treat, and good drama in general is a pretty unanimous equivalent to "good writing," and even I can agree. But I often find that contemporary dramas -- be it about marriage, abuse, depression, drugs, work life, whatever -- are either flat and uninteresting at best, or trying way too hard at worst. That's why I dislike most of the works by Inio Asano, who is a renowned mangaka that typically makes conventional drama (some of his titles include The Girl on the Shore, Goodnight Pun Pun, and Solanin). I find them pretentious, bleak for the sake of being bleak, and without much actual depth. Movies like Trainspotting, Gone Girl, Dear Evan Hansen, The Fault in Our Stars, etc, are really not my cup of tea.

I bought My Broken Mariko from Kinokuniya on my San Fransisco trip this year (a blog post of which I'm still working on! Writing novels and DM'ing a campaign is very very time consuming!) specifically so I could read and review it for Book Club. It's one volume, it's not that long, and I thought, "eh, sure." 

I'm happy to say I was pleasantly surprised. My Broken Mariko may not be profound or life changing, exactly, but it isn't hollow either. All it really is, is an exploration of one girl's grief at the suicide of her best friend, and her journey to take her ashes down to a cove the two of them had never gotten to explore together. 

There's depth to be found in this story's running theme of mutual burden, and mutual friendship. I say that because it tackles a very painful truth about depression; someone who's hurt, depressed, or sick in some way can be very difficult to help, and support, without putting strain on oneself. (I say this as someone who has not only felt very strong grief and depression, but lives day to day with loved ones whose entire lives are dictated by it). Stephen King's brilliant novel Pet Sematary covers this theme to some degree -- when it comes to physical illness -- but My Broken Mariko has a dash of what it's like to be the only friend of someone whose life of abuse and misfortune has pushed them into self-loathing and self-harm, and what that does to those of us who keep them standing. Or if we, ultimately, fail to.

But in being a victim of such a harsh reality, even the hardest loved one to deal with is more than just their burdens; there is a scene in this manga where the protagonist, Shiino, shouts and screams after getting drunk in a bar. She cries about just how much she misses Mariko, and how nothing was Mariko's fault. That everything was, instead, the fault of those around her, and the weaknesses they used to place blame on her poor friend. This little scene is part of why I liked this story so much; because even with what is said above, there is much more truth in the idea that the pain and worry caused by victims is more often than not a fault in their surroundings, their people, and the world itself. It's a cycle of cause and effect, where effect causes cause and cause is an effect. I think a lot of harder things in life can be boiled down to this, honestly.

Depression and suicide is a really tough issue to cover perfectly. Both in art, and in an analysis talking about it. I don't mean what I say to be all-encompassing, as I'm speaking from my experiences and how that affects my perception of life, and what I've read. There's nuances and conditions in every situation that aren't entirely reflected in all places that depict them. 

Despite that, the manga makes full use of its medium, and captures little tonal shifts (and, thus, personality) that only comics can truly get away with. Things like a silly expression, cartoonish jumping and shouting, all of those little anime-isms that would break up the flow of a serious story if it were in a film or television episode, but can be comfortably portrayed in panels on a page without being too jarring. I liked this added bit of color a lot. It reminded me that I was reading a story someone wrote and drew. Maybe some of you would think this takes you out of the story... I think it's different for a writer, or at least for me. I value the humanness in art. I value its quirks and its faults. 

My Broken Mariko is far from perfect. More chapters, better linework, more time with the concept all could have made it close to such, but as of yet we have this one volume, and we certainly aren't getting any more. But I liked my time with it. If you want to read a short pathos-manga, I recommend it. 

Also there was a pretty cool neo-Western one-shot in the back. 

Until next time. Cheers! And remember; if you're depressed, feeling hurt, or struggling with mental illness, please remember that life is worth living. That you are more than how you feel, and that there are people out there who can help you. I have resources down below, if you need that extra push. Take care.

---

 

 

BetterHelp - A mental health resource 

SAMHSA - A national health hotline

If you're feeling suicidal, please call the US National Suicide Prevention Hotline; 800-273-8255. Help is available 24/7.

Happy Halloween! I PUBLISHED SOME WRITING!

Happy Halloween! 

 

 

Not long ago, I posted a Book Club post about Robert W. Chambers' "The King in Yellow," but it was not exactly what it said on the tin. If you've seen the page, you would know that it is, instead, just a grouping of links to The Many Horrors of Windle Rock. 

And... yeah! A long time ago, when I made this blog, I said some of my writing would be available to read at some point. And, well, it's here! It's not in print, or professionally published, but I have made an account on Royal Road, the web novel hosting website, and I've since finished a ten part short story collection. 

The Many Horrors of Windle Rock tell the story of Windle Rock, a coastal village in Ireland, that seems to oft fall victim to the sinister forces of the eldritch. It seems like an episodic anthology at first, but some things do reveal themselves as more connected than they appear. Then, by episode ten, the whole story seems to culminate in... well, you'll have to give it a read. Today is the perfect day.

(Read it by clicking this link right here!) 

I wrote this as a general experiment, playing with horror and its subgenres like cosmic horror (think H.P. Lovecraft), internet horror (Creepypastas like Slender Man, Smile Dog, etc.) and dabbling a tiny bit in splatter horror (like Saw) and dark fairy tales (like the original Brothers Grimm). If that isn't your thing, I don't blame you one bit. But from now on, I'll be writing quite a bit on Royal Road under the username "The King in Yellow," so bookmark it. I'll also have a new page on this blog that will help you find the link! 

That's about it, really. So far the little collection has gotten pretty good reception, so I guess I'm not such a shit writer after all. (If you want to prove me wrong, though, go right on ahead). Until next time... have a positively spooky day!

Book Club - "The King in Yellow," by Robert W. Chambers

 Welcome back to Book Club!

Today we have The King in Yellow, a collection of short stories by Robert W. Chambers. This little hardcover doesn't have them all, and I didn't know that when I purchased it. Even so, it's a nice little book with four very unique stories. If you haven't heard of The King in Yellow, or Hastur, as he's known now in Lovecraft's mythos -- he's a cosmic deity dressed in tattered rags of yellow, frequently also depicted with a mask and bearing something known as "The Yellow Sign." He was not created by Lovecraft, he was actually created by a writer known as Ambrose Bierce, who just so happened to be a Union Civil War veteran. Robert W. Chambers came along afterward and borrowed terms from Bierce for his collection of short stories; the Great Old One we know as Hastur today is actually more of a creation of modern readers taking elements from Bierce, Chambers, and Lovecraft's works together, and finding the continuing line of reference between each of them. 

Chambers' short story collection, in truth, has little to do with this figure itself -- but instead, the fictional play titled "The King in Yellow." Given that these stories are from 1895, they're written in older diction and at times were somewhat hard to follow. Not to mention the use of the unreliable narrator trope, which made it even harder. That being said, I find these stories fascinating. 

The first one we have is called "The Repairer of Reputations," which was the hardest of the three stories to follow. It takes...

Do you hear something? 

Nevermind. What was I talking about? Oh, yes. The King in Yellow. 

I...

I like the last story, where I read the Kingdom in Yellow itself. The King? The King. The Kingdom. Hastur. The God of Shepherds. Shepherd's Front. C... C... Carcosa. Carcosa. 

Do you hear that? 

It's the shouting and screaming of the lost souls of Carcosa. A deathly, twilit city of yellow and black where the dark recesses of the mind lengthen like shadows as the two black suns, bright light stars, pass quietly overhead. It's--

Kh'lath dro'ctelho ni nawar gozhokah'll meiargwath'o marghkai

K̷h̵'̴l̴a̵t̵h̷ ̷d̵r̶o̷'̶c̶t̶e̶l̷h̶o̷ ̶n̸i̸ ̶n̴a̸w̴a̴r̷ ̵g̸o̴z̶h̴o̶k̵a̴h̵'̶l̶l̶ ̷m̶e̷i̵a̷r̶g̸w̸a̴t̶h̴'̵o̷ ̶m̶a̸r̸g̷h̶k̶a̸i̸

K̸͠ͅh̸͑͜'̴̔͜l̴͚͆à̴̜ṫ̵͓h̶͓͛ ̸̹̉d̴̙̿r̷̯̓ọ̸͗'̷͔̃ĉ̴̺ţ̶͂e̵̩̐l̷̳͊h̵͎͒o̵͖͗ ̶̟̀n̶̪͊i̸͙͆ ̶̞͛n̵̛͉a̴̮̒w̷̜͊ḁ̴̛r̶͉͘ ̴̙͌g̴͓̒ò̸͜z̷̭̉h̸̩͝ò̸̲k̶̻͝a̴̠̍ḥ̶̌'̷͕̈́l̵̽͜ľ̸͕ ̸̙̽m̸̡̏ë̸͖́i̶͐͜a̶̠͑r̶͎̈g̸̺̑w̶̙̄ă̴̭t̶̼͐h̶̲͝'̸͖͆ō̷̭ ̶̫̊m̵̩̾à̵͜r̵̮̉g̷̮̔h̶̦̃k̸̪̀ä̵͔́i̴̡̾

K̸̛̝̭̐h̸̨̤̙̎̀'̵̨̈͠l̴͖̪̖̿̑ȃ̸̝̬̩t̷̘̙͊͗h̶̜͎̃ ̶̺̊͜d̶̢̼̻͒͝ȑ̷͈͚̓͛õ̵̢̦͗͜'̵̮̈̔͠c̸͉̹͋̚t̶͈͈̝͑ȩ̸̲͙̅ļ̴̞̎h̸͖͓̻̿͊õ̸̗̘̂ ̸̮̲̈́n̷̫̣̄î̸̖͋ ̵͍̪͐n̴̰̝̈a̶͍͗w̵̧̞̰̋̅a̷̯̞͛̽͝r̵͈͗ ̵̲͚͛̓̚g̷̞͎̼͋ô̸̟̺ͅz̶̰̜͈͑̈́͝h̷̡̋̎o̴̘̰̎͋k̶͙̓a̵̛̦̣͛̆h̵̬̫̏͊̆'̷͓̈̅l̸̡̗͊̓͂l̴̛͉̠̉ ̵̬̈́͆͆m̴͈̭̻̿̇e̴̜̲̎i̴̠̣͐a̵̼̻̋͛͝ȑ̷̭̤͇̂g̸̣̮̼͘͠w̷̫̙̜͐a̴͙͋t̷̥̊h̷͇͐'̴̟̣́͜ó̸͙̫ ̸̝̬̻̈́̌̿m̸͇̋a̶̦̫͐̔͑r̸͖̮̂̽g̷͍̿̏͠h̶͙̯͈͂k̶͇͔̏͜a̴̻̱̋͜i̵̺͊͆͝

 

K̵̥̗̥̘̥̤͒̾̏̈́͠h̸̡̟͎̩͇̘͇̓'̴͇͍͉̙̓̓̈́͂l̸̢̘̤̗̥̈́͒͜ͅã̸͕̟̩̮́̓̃t̸̩͈̞͔̹́̈́h̵̞̣̘̋̆̈̈́͝ ̸͙̼̗̖̮͋̿̇̾̒̇͠ͅd̸̡̓̊͊̇̎͝r̴̛̜͈͑̏̄̐ơ̵͔̥̝͍͕̅̒͆̐̈́͜'̸̖̤̮͖̟̱̺̌͛̆͠͠c̷̝̯̑̉̾͛̕t̵̰̹͙͜͝ě̵̥͉̊l̷̤̗͉̠̈̀͒̚͘h̸̨͇̹̯̄̈́͝͠o̵̙̲̰͙͔̼͒̈́̃̕͠ ̶̧̝̫̞͔̍̒̔͠n̸̖̆̀̾̍͆̽͘i̵̘̗̝͂̽̏ͅ ̸̦̳͚͓̲͈̓̓͑̐̄̕n̷̨͉͎̿͐̒͂̂̀a̷̟͎̮̩̟̋̈́͊̽̚w̸̱̪̣͉͙̾̾̂̂͑͆͜a̵̼̱̱̪̲̣͊̓ŕ̸͉̝̦̬͎͝͠ ̷̯̪̝̪̺̊̌͐̏͋̓͒ͅg̶̡̜̪̤̬͓̳͒͝ö̵̭̺͎̞̮̪̫́͊̓͂̌z̷̤͍̓̄̈́̓̔͝h̶͇̯͔͈̰̻̬̀̍͆͗̊̈͝ǫ̸̡̮̤͚̓͌̎͜k̶̨̗̯̣̦͈̀̾͑͛̓̍͠a̴̡̡͙̖̦͑̈́͘ͅẖ̸̰̬̗̫̩̀͑̐̇͠'̴͕̬̥̼͈͊́͋̒̌͝l̶̮̈́̂l̵̯͍̟͇̽ ̴̢̹̤̯̦̊͗̀̆̃͘̚m̷̩̓̍̆̚͘e̸̘̟̣͕̠͒̍́͑̉̄͠i̵̛̮̥̠͈͊a̶͔̗̪̲͊̓͒̒̚͜ŗ̷̦̳̊͂͑̾g̸͓͔̞͙͔̬̘͒͊w̵̤͙̭̟͒a̸͉͔̞͒̐͋̋ţ̵̛͉̺̓̂̏͐̈̚ḧ̴͚͗̈͗͋͘'̷̢̙͕͖͊̅̾̀͂͒̐ơ̸̹̄̀̈́̏͊͝ ̵̡̛͕̬̳̜̝̈́̄͌͆́́m̶͖̥̘̘͕̪̈́̌̈̿́́̚ͅa̸̪̺̼͇͔̝͒̓r̵̪̄͐̈͛̔̇g̵͕͗ȟ̴̢̛͙͇̥̿͑̃ḱ̶̢̨̿̀̉̚̕a̴̧̙̗̟̻̩̒̔̌͠i̶̡̢̱̼̼̐̓͊̒̒͜

KH'LATH DRO'CTELHO NI NAWAR GOZHOKAH'LL MEIARGWATH'O MARGHKAI!!

KH'LATH DRO'CTELHO NI NAWAR GOZHOKAH'LL MEIARGWATH'O MARGHKAI!!

KH'LATH DRO'CTELHO NI NAWAR GOZHOKAH'LL MEIARGWATH'O MARGHKAI!!

K̵̨̹̋̈̄͒͘Ḩ̶̹͖̟̠̬̹̃̈́̚̕͝'̸̢̝͓̘̯͍͌̾́̔̈́͑̃Ļ̵́A̵̱͂̋̊͋́̂͋T̴͙͇̽́͛͆͆̎H̴̭̅̓̉̓͝ ̴̳͓͈͖̟͋̑̋͐Ḑ̶̥̮̺̬̎̐̄̌̊Ř̸̼͎̭̬̤̞Ŏ̶̢̘̺̙ͅ'̶̡̲͕͈̙̄̾͂͋̈́C̸̹̜̞̥̪̼̓̅̈́̌̔͜͝T̷̜̜͖͚͔̏E̸͔͋́̅̚͘Ḽ̸̻̭́̌̐̊̒̌Ḧ̸̦̞́Ǫ̶̧̧̱̟̺̹̎͆̑̊̓ ̴̥̙̩̭͠N̶̢̳̝̬͗͌͋͑̍͝Ị̸̛̯̥̖͌͗̽̐͝ ̷̝̥͉̪̱̭͛͊̓̈̍͌͝N̷̢̪̟͒́Ȧ̸͚̖̠͙͎͛̅͗͛̈W̷̥͈̞͑́̈́̇͐͝A̴̞̦͎͉̙̤̋̇̽̚̚R̴͓̟͖͔͔̹̹̋͆̂́̏́̐ ̵̛̜͎̥̻̠̘̳̎͑̏̈́͝G̵̳̲̖͙͗͂̇̄͂͜ͅͅỎ̶̢̯̤̦͓̥͙̓͝Z̶͓͓͖̓̀͛̑̄͋Ḧ̶̯́̅Ọ̷̙͕̺̪̒̆͑͂K̶̨̛̛̭͎̼̃̑̃͘A̴̘̾H̵̢̨̛̙̹̭̩͉'̴̛͕̀̓̈̏̎̕L̷͕̪̿̌͋̓L̴̤̟̖͙̂͊̆̿̚ ̶̪̣̳͐̀M̷̢͙̱̦̯̊E̶̢̡̤̱̰͎̥̎̑̍̓̂̈Ḭ̸̹͒̕Á̴̢̟̰̥̾͑̽R̴̘͇̊̽͛G̸̢̳͓̤̐͑̈́̊Ẇ̷̫͔͍̿́́̍͐͠Ä̶̛̼̙͈́̋Ṱ̶͖̣͇̬̩̭̓́͛̎̕H̸̤̗̼̬̟͗̉̈̉̐͝'̶̹̙̲̫̄͗͐̄͋̓̂O̶͙̥͉͖͌̌͂̇͗̔ ̶͇̔͆̓M̵̳̱̬͈̖͙̺͑̀́̀͝Ȃ̸͇̿̾R̸̘̰͙͎̤̠̘͋̋̐G̴̘͙̕Ḧ̶̡͍̱͉̪̣́̾̐̂̀͝K̷̢̟͕̰̥͒̈̅̇̇͑Ą̵̦̃̇̃͗͘I̷͓͎̭̜̭̝̐̆̊̂̆̒!̴̣̆̐!̵̰̜̌̏

 

 K̸̢̢̮̱̯̘̳͕̟̩̯̟͇̙̖̲̬͓͙͕̟̙͍̰͈̟͉̠͗͛͂̈́͗̃͆͗̎͑́̇̈́̄͋͌̈̔̄̄͘͠͝H̴̢̧̘͙͖̟͙̀͌̋̉̑̉͆͑̑̐̀̈̀̈́͆̈́͂̃͋̒̒̃'̶̧̧̢̲̩̝̪̥̮̹͉̣̫͇̠͇͓͙̙͍̱̤̜͈̜͔͕͋̂̇̉̈́̓̿̍͌͛̇̈́͜͜L̸̨̨͍̲̮̮͈̝̩̹͚̲̈́̅̇̓̂̌̄́̈́̉͑̉̾͊̐̍̊̄́̍̅́̋̕͝͝Ä̷̧̢̛̛̩͚͓͙̭̮̠̟̱͖̹̺͎̝̫͖̖͙͕́̑͌̌̄̄̃̄̀͋̔̂͒̅̊͜͜͝ͅT̴̮̩̐̇͑̓͒̋͐̓̏̌̓̎̌͑̓̊̓̀͗̈̄̽̄͒͆̉͘̚͠͝H̷̖̺͖̺̖̠̭͈͉͈͙͇̹̙͍̝̠̯̯̳̳͓̀̾͛̎͌̀̎̈́̈̑́̑̎̒̄̌͛̈́̒̑̑̄̾̉̏͆̚͜͝͝ͅ ̶̡̢͉͔̳̹̠͇̳̭̜̼̹̫̝̈́̑̈́͜D̵̡̤̬͙͕̟͔͆͛̀̃̿͋̅̔̈͑̇̉̎͌̿̾̇̈͂̚R̵̨̨̧̡̢̢̛̛̛͇̼͉̗̺͙͕̬̭͖̗̩̖̗͉̙̈́́́̽̐̐͌̈́̽́̽̒͛̾̃̓͠O̷͇̲͙͇̲̱̫̝͍͂̐̈̓͆̇̌̉̀̋̃̀̒̓͑͑̅̇̈́̽̂̓̆͗̚̕'̷̢̡̧̢̧̰͔̻͍̰̦̼̫̺̗̠̀̉̋͑̎̌͋̀͐̔͐̈̊̈́́̀̐́̀̑͝C̵̡̨̢̡̫̟̮̼̱̗̦̘̻̺͚͔̗̈́̉T̸̜̱͇̼͈̠͇͍̻͂̒̒͊̉E̵̢̧̢̢͇̱̥͈̹̻̩͇̫͙̗̘̞̟͕͚̠̭̦͖͂̅͜ͅĹ̵̩̱̮̜͇̲̺͛͐̀̈́̏͗͛̉̽̐̽̐͊̌̌̃͊͊͊̚̕͜Ḩ̸̜̠̬̜͎̰̹̥̼̯̺̹̑̏̓͂͗̈̌͒͆͛̇͌̑̃͒̂̚͝Ò̶̧̬͔͎͙̪̬͚̮͙̳̬̥̻̣͈̳͚̪́̉̑̓̇ͅ ̴̱̰̲̪̫̻͇̮̹̀͑̀̽̃̐͂͛͛͂̀̀͛̕͜͝Ņ̴̗͎̖̝͙̖̬̞̪͉͉̬̝̦̥̠̜̫̘̗̤̪̓̈̏̅̌̿̒̊̚͜͠Ǐ̴̢̡̨͖̩̜͇̦̙͎̭̞̩̺̙̲͎͎̖̠̫͓̭͎̠̩͜ ̴̛͇̯̟͎͇̹̼̯͈̖̱̜̺̖͉͓͕̙̞͈̖̳̌̑͆̌̅̀͜͝Ñ̶̤̰̯̭̜̦̀̑̅̓̇͌̒̌̎̅͊́̚͘͠͝A̵̛̛̝̹̬̯̗͉͐̓̋̓̀̊̒̅̈̒̀͋̈̐̉̾̔̾̚͝W̷̡͖̱͇̜̬͖̙͉͖̤̣̟͓̱̦̤̙̖͖͙̩̋͆͋̈́̓͑̔̆̔͋̈́̎͗̄̌̏̈́͠ͅÂ̷̡̢̛͈̯̲̮̖̗̮̰͙̰͓̣̹̎̑̈́̂̈́̍̃́̈́̋͂̈́̈̈́͘̚͠ͅŖ̷̨̤̣̠̙̱͓̲͇̞̘͇̩̲̩͈̭̻̦̰̠͎̞̦̓̆̉̔̈́̒͛̌͐͆͜ ̶̡̨̳̗̩͕̘̭̪͕̫͇͔̺̹̞̱̯̣̖̩̤̃͗͂͋̑̕͜͜Ǵ̸̡̨͎̫̗̹͇͕̥͙̺͈̬̲͉̫͔̭̗̃̎̊̉͌̔̀͊̄̕̚͠͝Ö̸̧̡̨̨̞̬͇͎̼̞̜͈̳̣̲̯̤͍̝́͌̽͜ͅZ̴̞̩̬̜̬̺̳͖͖͖̓̋̈́̐̃̓̾̂̉̎͆̊̀̅͊̈̈́̑́͋̊͒̈̇̂̽̚͘̕͝H̷̨͎̻̘̗̝̘͍͙̱̘̯̼̠͍͓̗͓̻̘͔̦͍̻͛̈̉͊͊̃̀̒͐͆̈͜O̷̧̡̧̲͇̬̘̺̞̹͙̰̝̹̱̟̳͙̬̩̻̦͈͇̗̊͂̃̃̅̎́̽͋̆̇͘̚͜K̶̡̧̨̨̛̟̘͙̰̯̙̱̱̖̺͙͖̞͓̹̮̈́̈̉̅͌̏̀̏́̀̊́̄̍̾́̉̎͊̽̑͜͝͝͠A̵̛̪̭̯̦͙̣̲̲͛́̑̐͆̌̇͛̃̃̎̄̂̕͠͝ͅH̶̢̧̢̺̟͓̬͇̻̞̱͙̼͎̮̗̟̖̝̣̙̩͈̳͚̹̮̘̞̿̑̐̒̌̽͌̋̐̉͌́̈́͒͒͊̏̔̊̌̄̿́̆͛͜͠͠'̴̺͎̗͍͍̹̫͚̗͙͋̑̓̿̃͋̄͛̄̑̃̇̆͌̎̃̅́͊̂̓͂͘͠͝͝ͅͅL̶̡̨͇̠̟̜̩̫̥̼̟̳̭̮̰̞͓̮͙͎͍͉̱̫̫͓̈́͋͐͂̾͆͌͗̂̐̏̃̎̉̄̅́̚͜ͅL̵̡̡̬̻̲̰̓͂̓̄͌̓̊̅̀̿̀̎̑̔̉̽͗͂́̚̕͝͝ ̶̢̢̛̯͓̰͓̞̯̣͔̳̠͔͇̲̠͚̙̱̪͍̯̬̪̏̋̓̑́̓̓̈́͒̉̈́̒̌́̎̽̕͘͘͝͠͝͝͝͝Ḿ̶̡̧͉̭̙̙̝̞͈̭̞̱͎͕̙̮̦̫̠̇̈́̔͐͂̂́̑̇̅̂̚̚͝Ë̸̢̛̖͈̫̙͙̰̞̣̈́̓̀̉̈́͊͗̔͛̽͋̀̈́͋̐̈́̌̆̃̈́̽͛͑̚I̶̗̤̤̹̳͊̀̋̋͒̄͋́̕À̴̧̱̪̥̅͋̒̔̇̀͝R̵̡̢̲̗̳͎̲̜͚̝̼͎͈̞̭̬̳̠͔̰̦͑͗̿̍̃̐͜͜͠G̸̢̧̛̞̯̠̠̹̝̱̯̜̥̮̞̪̣͓͈̺̳͙̼̙̼͍̻͍̍̏̿̿͊͋̒͊̽͜͜͠ͅW̷̧̡̨͙̜̝̩̩͔̳̭̯̫͍̮̪͇̟͚̺̥̩̽̆́̽̃̊͂̽̌̽̇ͅA̷̡̯̜̐͌͛́̇̈́͋́̅̈́̊̌̈͊̕T̸̡̢̧̡̲̥͇̮̙̼̗͎̪̣̮̰̜̤͓̞̻̣́̊̒̅̽͗͐̏̉̍̿͊̐̓̏̕̕̚͘͘̕͠͠H̶̢̢̙̠͉̞͙͕͈̻̗͖̟̖̣̼͔̞͎͑̌̔͐͌̈̈́̒̈́̔̎͛͊̓̿̅̆̈́̏̅̕͘͠͝'̷̛̘͚̙̑̇͊͂̐̃͋̎̍́̈́̿͒̾̂͌̋̏͒́̌̈́͂͐̐̈́͘͘͝Ò̸̯̮̩͓̰͓̘͕͓͙̥̰͙̥̲̯͖̱͖̭̗̳͊̌̅̓͘͜͜͝ ̶̢̨̞̼̤̭̞͔̘̲̙̮̲̻̦͉͓͕̼͕͎̰͕͙̟̌̾̈̌́͐̊̇͒̊́͝M̸̢̡̛͉̱͈̬͗̑̆̂̔͋̄̿͋͆̍̿̀̓̓͋̏̔͛̉̓͘͝͝͠Å̸̝̔̓̐͗Ŗ̵̛̻̯͔̜̭̣̫̩͉̲̹̼̪̖̠̺̥͋̈́̂͒̃̊̔͐͂̈́͒͠Ģ̶̛̙̗̯̠͖̪̯̯̦̖̺̺̗̋̌̑͌͐͗̋̉̒͐̎̇̽̌̓͐͋͗̈́͊͆̈́̌̋̕̕̚͝ͅḨ̴̘͇͖̬̯̹͎̻̩̬̫̦̼̖̪̍͗̐͌̽̍͗̎̎ͅK̷̛͈͙͈̟̰͉̘̠͎̦̲̬͕̟̙̎̐̉̋͛̽́́̾̑̉̈͝Å̴̡̡̮͕̜̙̟̼͖̘̖̯̻̞̟̗͍̪͇̪̭̼͇̗̠̊̏I̸̧̹͚̪̘͖̅̉͋̋͒̌̑̈́̓̇̇̓̓͊͊́́̂̎̑͆͘̕͝͝!̵̧̢̻̱͓̝͎̮̖͉̭̊͐̈̆̽̓̇̽̈́̍́͛̕͠!̶̛̭̼͔̭̩̼̮̟͎͙̫̹̯̟̣̩̂̌̿͊̎̎̔̍̍̋̑̐̂̇̄̊̏̔̓͑͌͋͒̔͘͘͠

 

Gods of Infinity watch Ki and Consume it All

The King in Yellow watches.

Book Club - "The Bad Beginning," A Series of Unfortunate Events #1 by Lemony Snicket

Welcome back to Book Club! Today we're looking at the first installment of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, The Bad Beginning. 

Surprise surprise, I was a big reader as a child. My parents encouraged it by frequently buying me books. One such book was The Bad Beginning, on virtue of the movie having come out at the time I was old enough to move onto more complex books, and like The Spiderwick Chronicles, Goosebumps, Hank the Cowdog, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Harry Potter, and Percy Jackson (say all of those five times fast) at around the same time, I absolutely loved it. I ate it up, and needed more. 

However, that was many, many years ago, and like the story of the Baudelaire orphans, the story of my encounter with A Series of Unfortunate Events is an unfortunate one, and does not have a happy ending. My parents never bought me anything past the third book, so I had to turn to my school library. This was fine for a while, as I managed to read all of the books...

...except for the very last, The End. In a twist of cruel fate, my school library did not have a copy. And I had no money with which to buy my own.

Yes, it is true -- I do not know how the story ends, reader... oh, woe is me!

Except, that was a lie. The story of my encounter with A Series of Unfortunate Events gets even more dreadful, because I do know how it ends. For, you see, I had encountered many a spoiler, on the Internet, regarding the end of the series; and I now know the supposed events of the final book through cultural osmosis - the word "osmosis" here means "learning things one does not want to know, simply by being around rude people," - and have a woefully semi-complete understanding of the narrative. 

...(pause for effect)...

If you couldn't tell, I still love these books. They were part of the pillar of children's literature I grew up on, and can probably be attributed to the reason I started writing. Whether it's through rose-tinted glasses or not, rereading The Bad Beginning was a trip down memory lane, and I'm happy to say I came away enjoying the wit of the story even more than I did when I was a child. 

The plot of A Series of Unfortunate Events is very simple. Three children, born into significant wealth, suddenly lose their home and their parents in a terrible fire, and thus are shuffled into the arms of their closest (geographically, not hereditarily) living relative, Count Olaf. They are then subject to abuse and mistreatment by him as he cooks up a way to steal their fortune. He fails the first time, and launches them into a 13 book series chronicling their misadventure into the hands of more and more guardians, Olaf chasing them down throughout, causing them grief with his villainy and mischief over and over again.

The story is positively oozing with style. It has been literal years since I read a children's book, and I forgot how simple diction needs to be for such a young audience -- but even so, The Bad Beginning delivers aesthetic comedy better than most of the adult books I've read even with this restriction. In fact, it often uses this crutch to its advantage, introducing complex words and defining them in humorous terms that really fit the parameters of the story's writing style, and characterizing the story's various people and places with comedic and exaggerated pessimism. 

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny -- the three main characters -- are heavily defined by their one outstanding trait (Violet being an inventor, Klaus a reader, and Sunny a curiously intelligent baby that likes biting things) and while not much of their characters go beyond this, they're still fun to read about because they're a perfect slate for constant misfortune. That sounds dark, but it's true. Part of the fun of these books is that they live up to their name; there is constant tragedy and suffering, most of which befalling the innocent kid protagonists. Some of it far worse than any child ought to suffer, some of it so mild and inconsequential that the resulting dichotomy is hilarious.

Count Olaf is the perfect villain for this kind of story. He is cartoonish and completely irredeemable. In this case, the relative blandness of both the protagonists and the antagonist only work to make the tone of the story stronger. This book is brilliant proof of the idea that all the rules of writing can be broken to great effect, if handled with care. The art of literature is not mathematical, or scientific. It's much more like painting. There are general guidelines to it, which can produce a structured work, but in breaking those  you can, quite possibly, make something even more interesting than if you'd followed the rules. 

Here's a good look at some of the book's style; 

 (Spoiler, but there are 13 of these books, and I doubt the first one would be unpredictable to an adult audience)

This brand of dry, dark wit is bleeding on nearly every page. And if my memory serves me, this continues throughout all the other books, too. 

I'm pretty busy these days. I'm writing a 10 part short story collection (which I will officially reveal soon), I'm writing the third novel of my fantasy series (and thus, fifth manuscript so far), I'm outlining the next book I'm going to write, and am dreadfully close to my deadline of having completed enough work to start looking for a route to publish. Not to mention I'm reading two enormous, doorstopper fantasy epics, A Song of Ice and Fire and The Stormlight Archive. But I wanted to start this series again because I missed it, and pined for that nostalgic feeling of rereading books you loved in childhood. I am quite elated to say that, even if this is just me stuck in the past, I think they hold up. At least the first one... and as such, on to book two! 

Thanks for reading, reader! I give The Bad Beginning by Daniel Handler Lemony Snicket an 8/10

  - Austin

Book Club - "Fist of the North Star" #1 by Tetsuo Hara & Buronson

Fist of the North Star! I just finished the first Viz hardcover volume, and I have some thoughts. 

But I'm not quite sure how to segue into an introduction for it. Does it need one? Is it still obscure enough to where readers of this blog might be unfamiliar? Or is it the classic many underground-anime aficionados say it is? I'm willing to bet most readers may not have a great understanding of what this legendary manga entails, simply due to geography. It's always interesting to see how pop-culture develops differently in each region. Fist of the North Star is a manga that has inspired shonen for decades, and is the source of the legendary "Omae wa mou, shinderu" meme. But despite that, it -- and many other older titles -- have stayed in semi obscurity in more mainstream western circles. 

...Uh...

Oh, who am I kidding. All of you fuckin' know what this shit is. A bit of the teenage anime reviewer came back out of me, there, hunting for a way to introduce our subject. I can do better. I can do better! Don't let me get away with shit like this again! 

Anywho -- Fist of the North Star is bonkers. It spares no expense, and instantly thrusts us into a nuclear post-apocalyptic, Mad Max-ian world where the strong survive and the weak are fodder for their whims. Kenshiro, our heroic protagonist, disagrees with this notion, and employs Hokuto Shinken (the manga's martial art/magic system) to mow down waves and waves of enemies. 

First and foremost, and it needs to be said -- the art of Fist of the North Star is absolutely fantastic. Dated in just the perfect way, with amazing panel flow, brilliant framing -- every inch of the story is full to the brim with style. And since it's so old, it really feels... different from much of the mainstream manga of today. It feels more real. Like it came from one mind (even though it's an artist/writer duo) and is on a single path of narrative, which is a sort of feeling that many stories today lack. The hyperviolence just adds to it all, giving the action some truly magnificent... er, well, badassery. That's the only way to put it. Fist of the North Star is a manly man's manga, and oozes testosterone from every pore. The story also moves at a breakneck speed, mowing through the protagonist's supposed great nemesis as quickly as it does all the mooks and drones he takes out in each chapter too. It's like an epileptic fever dream, with fists and explosions and muscles galore.

Despite this, the manga is light on story, with almost no depth at all. What you see is what you get, at least as far as thirteen chapters go. This is perfectly acceptable entertainment, and I certainly cannot speak of how it develops as it goes. But in perfect honesty, halfway through the first volume I stopped and wrote in my notebook, almost verbatim: 

"The novelty and action is enjoyable, but one volume is enough for me to have already gotten all I probably can. Each chapter is the same thing." 

And I stand by that. The scope escalates and the art is insane, but the tendencies of the protagonist (to be a heroic, stoic badass that beats up badies for justice) and the general concept of the world ensures that these adventures will, in all likelihood, be repeating the same few notes over and over again. 

However, I certainly do not regret picking up Fist of the North Star, and seeing where modern shonen -- and of course, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure -- have adapted some of their main ideas. Revisiting old media and art that has become a pillar for modern works is always a bit poignant, because it's a window into an era long gone, yet still continues to make ripples and waves. Influence is a fluid, everpresent thing. It's impossible to avoid it, as all things have taken from what already exists. A story like Fist of the North Star is timeless. And though it had many elements that didn't appeal to me, I think it's worthy of that timelessness. 

Thanks for reading. I may not have said much of substance in this post, it was hard to stretch my ideas in to full paragraphs. Even so, read on, Book Club! 

 

- Austin

 

Book Club - "Anthem," by Ayn Rand

Welcome back to Book Club! A segment I make whenever I've finished a book and feel like talking about it. Which means, whenever I damn well feel like it. If I sound aloof and sarcastic today, it's because I just finished reading one of the worst books I've ever read in my life; Anthem, by Ayn Rand. Why did I put myself through this? It's simple, really. I am a masochist. 

No, that was a joke. The thing is, I've been hearing echoes about this author for years, and all I really knew was that her books were extremely controversial. She inspires the lifestyle and beliefs of... uh, some not so savory people -- and famously has persisted in modern literature specifically because of it. One example of the effect she's had on pop-culture is the video game Bioshock, which famously employs Rand's philosophies about society in its setting, and takes a good long look at why they completely suck. 

So needless to say, I was curious. The "classics" section of my local used bookstore was literally teeming with copies of Rand's work, and I sure as shit was NOT about to read something as long as Atlas Shrugged or The Fountainhead. But I wanted to know what people hated about her and her work so much -- (or loved, if you're of that inclination). I thought, "why is one's politics enough to incur so much wrath?" Boy howdy is that a naive thought, but I am a mere foolish babe, and I had it nonetheless. So I bought a second-hand copy, and gave it a read. 

And would ya know it, it was awful.

What is Anthem about? Honestly I have no idea. "Collectivism bad?" It's a painfully boring 104 pages, where most of the "story" is just first-person monologue about the state of the world. How people are assigned jobs at birth, given strange "noun-number" names, think of themselves as a collective instead of a single person, and live day to day doing whatever they're told to do. At first, that would sound like a dystopia, right? Good old satirical science fiction. Not on the comedic side, but the dramatic one. Fahrenheit 451, Brave New World, and of course, 1984. Classics for a good reason.

Except it isn't a dystopia. It isn't even really a novel. It's a fucking essay pretending to be. Wholly fictitious, yes, but so allegorical -- and one built on a scarily confused strawman, at that -- that it ceases to be anything other than nonsense.

Oh my god! Just look at that prose! The themes are so strooooong and amaaaaaazing I love you Ayn Rand we we weeee!

NO. This is garbage. This is terrible. This is idiocy of the highest form. Self indulgent and masturbatory and pretentious without having anything to show for itself other than a flimsy, uncreative skeleton. Ayn Rand did not write a fiction here, she wrote a rant, all built on the flawed idea that all collectivist philosophies can be pinned into the same wheel; that of oppressing man and striking away one's individuality. Needless to say, this is a big fat yikes. Not really because of its complicated implications, but more so because she just looks like a fucking idiot. Nothing happens in this book, other than the stream of consciousness in the head of a formless, void of a protagonist (whose thoughts are just a stand-in for her own beliefs) that doesn't interact with the setting or themes in any meaningful way. Want me to summarize this book for you? I can do it very quickly. 

 

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Dude is born in "uh oh, communism society because they're raised by the state and can't decide how to live their lives, but also fascism society because they Sieg Heil, but also a dystopian future society where no one can think for themselves" -->

Dude is pushed around by the feds -->

Dude don't like that, and has oddly translucent thoughts about not liking it, despite supposedly knowing no different -->

Dude meets epic girl!! (all the classic dystopians share this trope for some reason) -->

Dude also finds a hidey hole and learns how to read. Then he researches like a boss --> 

Dude becomes an enlightened Ubermensch and fucks off to the mountains with his beautiful wife to start society anew with his epic knowledge. 

-END-

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Yet just when the story reached a conclusion, it kept going for another twenty pages of ego-stroking, waxing poetic about "yargh argh yargh I can think for myself now" without there being any long-standing repercussions for the protagonist's actions. This is a dystopian novel, right? About the future, if we fall to collectivism and lose all sense of our individual selves? Then why isn't there some kind of setpiece or occurrence where we see this as a consequence? Wouldn't it make sense to show that, if we go that far, that even if he becomes the individual society has lost, his knowledge isn't enough against the world's collectivist power? I think that would be pretty thematically logical, don't you? "We should not do this or this would happen."

There is nothing of the sort. This buffoon thinks he can read a few books and change the world. No cause and effect, no... anything.

And why would there be? This is not a story. It is screaming. There are no consequences because Rand is not criticizing collectivism, she's praising hubris. I don't want to discount Rand's life in communist Russia, but I also can't imagine how those conditions created an obvious "thinker" type who has lived in horrors... then goes and creates a hollow and inane piece of work. It doesn't reflect hardly anything of anything. But in a way, I am willing to bet that this is most certainly her best book -- simply on principle that it's the shortest and, therefore, subjects you to less of itself. Please trust me, reader. I read this so you don't have to. 

And I will end this cynical episode of book club with one thought. That of "Ego." Rand, at the end of the story, proposes this as the unkillable, ultimate power of man. In my own story, a many volume fantasy epic, "ego" is specifically something that leads to downfall. I bring this up only because I noticed that as an instant point of contention between us, as writers. I am fallible, like any human being, and get cocky about certain things from time to time. I also allow myself to have pride in who I am and the things I do. But generally, I see ego, which leads then to hubris, as a universal human fault. Something that becomes a serious issue if left unchecked, and leads to questionable -- sometimes downright heinous -- choices and actions. In the text of my book series, which I call Over the Dust and Snow, I represent ego and hubris with the burning rays of the sun (conversely, modesty and humbleness is represented with the moon, of course). When characters get too big a head or act in their own self-interest, the sun blazes hot or peeks out behind the clouds, and they often suffer punishment for the things they do. Fly too close, after all, and those wings of wax will melt. 

Don't get me wrong. I am an absolutist concerning freedom of speech. I value art, expression, knowledge, and recognize individualism as quite an important part of life. But I cannot bring myself to conflate it with unchecked hubris, nor pit it against a self-informed narrative about what I think another philosophy means.

Maybe, Rand, you should not be encouraging people to fly too close to the sun.

(I genuinely give this book a 1/10) 

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Thanks for reading!