Books in 2008, #4

#4. Isaac Asimov's Halloween edited by Gardner Dozois and Sheila Williams

Okay, the funny thing about this book is that I started to read it early on in October 2007, hoping to publish a review before the titular holiday arrived. Then, uh, I got busy. Doing something. I think writing shtuff. Oh well, I finally finished up the remaining stories so here's what I thought of them a few months later…

This rather misleading anthology of "tricks and treats" opens with "Words and Music" by William Sanders, a story of the ever-so-old battle between man and the Devil. A flat-toned Cherokee Indian medicine man attends a church gathering on the premise that there's evil afoot. Luckily, he brought his magical guitar with him. Not too long after midnight, a band shows up, and the music they play puts almost everyone under a dangerous spell. It's up to our medicine man to put the Devil in his place via a battle of guitar solos. While the story has its charm and authenticity, I couldn't help but grimace as the guitar solos got more and more dramatic. I liked a lot of the language and characters here, but the plot was a bit too much for me to enjoy…and I play guitar. Oi.

I guess Halloween is all about the Devil doin' y'all wrong. In "Beluthahatchie" by Andy Duncan, a man named John is riding a train to Hell, but refuses to get off at the penultimate stop. Instead, he keeps going until he finds himself in the barren town of Beluthahatchie. He first meets the hounds of Hell, which are hilariously non-Hellish, and then along comes…dum, dum, dum…the Devil. There's no real battle here, but John eventually decides he'd like to be some place else despite his songs being praised by the dead. So he plans to steal the Devil's ride.

Though "Renaissance" by Nancy Kress was published almost ten years before the under-acclaimed Gattaca ever saw SF light, I couldn't help but think of them as one in the same. A few key points differ, but it basically boils down to this: the ability to play God and genetically alter babies before they are born. A famous Hollywood couple decide to do just this while also using it as a publicity stunt to further their popularity. The baby's grandmother watches all this, horrified and ashamed, knowing full well the consequences of her daughter's dreams the moment she sees the child's perfectly programmed face. This was all right even though it relied a little too heavily on a surprise ending. However, I did enjoy the mythological griffin that appears in the grandmother's daughter's dreams.

"Dikduk" by Eliot Fintushel is about a young, Jewish boy who tries to invoke the power of Mephistopheles using an ancient, magical book he recently found. This one didn't hold my attention for too long, though the dialogue worked well enough, but I quickly discovered that there'd been an error in the story's printing. It was incomplete. The remaining half of the piece is available online, but I didn't care enough to finish it. Oh wells…

"Pickman's Modem" by Lawrence Watt-Evans is an interesting short story for all the things that it gets right about online transmissions. In it, a man named Pickman disappears for some time from the message board field only to return later on thanks to a newly purchased used modem. George Polushkin, a fan of reading Pickman's oafish retorts, quickly notice that his posts—and writing skills—have changed dramatically. Fearing that Pickman is merely a hacked account, George takes a trip to visit his friend the next day where he discovers that his still oafish-minded friend is not responsible for the online flamewars. This was a quick, wry, and fun story, despite its dark twist being ruined in the introduction from the mere mention of one word: Eldritch. If you have no idea what that's all about, you'll probably enjoy "Pickman's Modem" on the first go.

"Thorri the Poet's Saga" by S. N. Dyer & Lucy Kemnitzer is a murder-mystery set in old Iceland times. The piece is heavy on names, bloated on poetic clues, and slower than the sea on a calm day. The crime-solving duo were nearly interchangeable to me despite one having clairvoyance and the other having lots of attitude, and I think I can really just chalk this one up to being the sort of story I greatly dislike.

The only part of "He-We-Await" by Howard Waldrop that I actually enjoyed reading was the time devoted to the correct process of embalming. The rest of the novelette focuses on an ancient Egyptian king and his legacy, which was lost to the passing of time. Eh, this felt more like alternative history, and that's just never something I got into. The writing is good, even with the occasional wacky moments, but much like the previous story this just isn't the sort of thing that interests me. Others might find it more rewarding.

"The Shunned Trailer" by Esther M. Friesner is hilariously awesome. Friesner never seems to disappoint me. In this one, a Harvard lad partying it up on Spring Break wakes up after a crazy night to discover himself in a trailer park, cared for by frog-like people that worship the Great Cthuhlu. Sure, the premise is very out there, but Friesner manages to keep things interesting because she 1) writes strong prose and 2) seems to effortlessly channel Lovecraft here. What do Elder Gods and the such have to do with Halloween? Not much, but they make for well-imagined stories.

In "The Country Doctor" by Steven Utley, a man returns to his childhood town of Gardner when he learns the place is on the verge of flooding. Once there, he learns the secrets of dead residents. And one exhumed body reveals something more horrific than just losing a graveyard's worth of history. Utley gives us a slow story that is all about building memories and crushing those warm, remember-when feelings at the end. A very quiet piece, but I enjoyed it. I'd say more, but it might ruin the reveal, which I found to be fascinating and creepy.

The last story in Isaac Asimov's Halloween, "The Golden Keeper" by Ian R. MacLeod, is also the longest. In fact, it might just be a bit too long. We are in Ancient Rome with Lucius Fabius Maximus, an accountant that is on the search for lost artifacts. The story unfolds as journal entries, which never really make me want to fall face-first into the words, but it gets interesting once Lucius and a slave of his begin interacting. Otherwise the novelette is a whole lot of history and memories of Grandmother and times when things were much simpler. The piece goes on like this for some time before reaching an actually satisfying conclusion. So, the payoff is worth the read, but I'm worried many might be daunted at the slow—and I mean slow—start. Still, MacLeod writes very well and the bits pertaining to décor and what people ate back then kept my intrigue.

There you have it. Not the greatest gathering of stories, and certainly not even horror stories. Most were merely atmospheric in tone or place, but leaned more strongly towards fantasy than anything else. The only real reason I'd pass this one along is if someone like humorous tales about Lovecraftian mythos.

Homage is where the heart is

About a week ago when I announced that Aoife's Kiss was buying my short story "After Effects" I made a side reference that the piece contained "a teeny homage to the Robot Man." Since nobody asked me what that meant, I figured I'd talk a bit about what I like to do with my short stories. Namely, I like to put in little bits of adulation for writers, musicians, artists, and a thousand of others whose work I've come to respect over time.

This is why I absolutely lurve the show LOST. Details, details, and details, along with the quick a-ha moments where they show you something obvious yet make it so transparent that you don't realize what you are seeing. LOST absolutely bounces in delight when it showcases books (Carrie, Catch-22, Heart of Darkness, Rainbow Six, and Stranger in a Strange Land to name a few), makes light of philosophers (John Locke, Jean-Jacques Rousseau), and lets slip those seductively damning numbers (4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42, in case you forgot). It cares about these things, making it important that they are mentioned, that they are carefully revealed with respect and attitude.

Sure, the producers must like it when a fan picks up on a reference...but whether they do or don't, it truly doesn't matter. The deed is done, and its meaning is out there for whoever to take it in. I like that. I like looking for those sorts of things, linking one and two to make three, understanding the why and how of a creator's intent.

Now where was I? Oh right. Homages. I suspect I'm not the only one.

I won't reveal all of my secrets now (I'll wait until I'm insanely famous for that, of course).

So, who is the Robot Man then? To me, that'd be Isaac Asimov.

And how did I bend my knee? I named the spaceship that the story's events transpire on The Foundation. Plus, there's some robots on board (though they do not adhere to the Three Laws of Robotics). There ya go.

Here's some thingies

Finished reading Isaac Asimov's The Gods Themselves. This is now the fifth Hugo-winning novel I've read and, well, I liked it so-so. The book is divided into three sections, and each reads like a standalone novelette. This probably because each was published as a single story before being compiled into a novel.

Regardless, the plot deals with a race of aliens living in a parallel universe, or para-Universe as Asimov calls it, that plan to turn Earth's sun into a supernova, reaping energy from it once it's been destroyed. Section one is about scientists and their slow discovery of the para-Universe and the endless source of energy dubbed the Electron Pump. Kind of boring, and only made interesting because Asmiov choose to start things off further ahead than necessary.

The second section shows us the alien race; a fascinating culture, built on triads and the obsession for melting, we follow a trio of three immature aliens. One is a Rational, one is a Parental, and one, Tritt, is an Emotional. She's different than other "mids" in that she wants to learn, a desire only found in Rationals. This is where The Gods Themselves shine, here with the aliens, where Asimov fully explores a civilization where gender roles are tossed to the wayside (much like Le Guin does in The Left Hand of Darkness). Amazing stuff, and the surprise revelation at the end of what the triad really is--or rather who--caught me by complete surprise. I can see myself going back and re-reading this section alone: it's that good.

The final section has us on the Moon, where a purely functional society of Lunarites live. A somewhat cynical physicist named Denison has come to the moon to put into effect a theory he has that will both stop the sun from exploding while helping humanity even greater. He meets Selene, a woman born on the Moon, a native so-to-speak, and together they work toward a common goal. Some of this section was pretty interesting; mainly common stuff, like how a human from Earth would adjust to living on the Moon much differently than someone born there. The ending, while complete and fulfilling, felt a bit out of left field. As with anything that deals with para-worlds or time-traveling, some of it had me scratching my head, but otherwise it was a decent read. The aliens make it worth it for me.

--

I watched Saw III the other night. Eh. More "games" were played, this time with no hope for redemption. People talk about films like Hostel being goreporn, but no one dares say a word against this franchise. Sure, the first one was pretty original when it came out, but now I have to wonder what's happened to the magic. Is the purpose just to torture folks? I see there's a fourth one coming out. Spoiler alert! Spoiler alert! Jigsaw is dead. Gee, I wonder if it'll be a Jigsaw wannabe and that there will be more bloody games to play and that no one will really learn anything throughout the experience but limbs will be lost and guns will be shot and the average consumer will feel cheap, dirty, and dumb. I will not watch Saw IV. Ever.

--

Two rejections this weekend. One called my story "charming," which is a new one for me.

--

And yes, I picked up The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass. It's quite fun, and makes me want to break out my SNES and ol' Link to the Past cartridge. The graphics are solid, but it's the gameplay that's damn addicting. Hack and slash and cuttin' grass! Bring on the rupees, baby. The sailing though is going to get tiresome, I predict.

Oi, Robot

So, I, Robot was on earlier today and I was half-watching it while taking care of my laundry. I'd already seen the film back in the theater when it was released in 2004. I believe I was a lot more forgiving back then about it then I am now. Maybe because now I've read more of Asimov's work or maybe because I don't like watching st00pid movies anymore. I give to you the Top 5 Reasons Why I, Robot is a Big Letdown:

5. It gives Isaac Asimov the finger. The film, suggested by an Asimov book, gives him credit only by using his Three Laws of Robotics, which are: Rule One) A robot can never harm a human. Rule Two) A robot must obey all human orders unless it conflicts with the first law. Rule Three) A robot must protect itself unless it conflicts with the first two laws. After that's quickly sped through at the beginning of the novel, the movie and Asimov split, rather harshly, with one hand on the wheel and the other out the window with a finger flexed.

4. A swift kick of violence. As is to be expected with Hollywood, if the original material source doesn't have a love story or an explosion in it then they'll stuff one into the script no matter what. Here though it comes across as forced. The evil robots (noticeable by their evil, glowing red lights) don't just restrain citizens. They knock them down, attack with kicks and shoves, pinning arms behind backs and knocking weapons out of hands without a care as to whether or not the wrist breaks. In Asimov's work, it is rare if a robot ever broke one of the Three Rules, and even if it had it never led to a mob mentality among other robots.

3. The robots of the future look boring. Plus, they're all thin. If you want robots that emote, make them overweight with bad knees. Make them really hairy and disfigured. Make them look unique. Here we are presented with hordes of gray-framed skeletons with perfect oval heads and beady eyes. No special skins, no different color schemes. Just a bunch of gray iPods that, for some reason, are really tall. How about we make them smaller in the future? You know, that way in case they rebel we can just kick them away?

2. V.I.K.I. is dafter than a doorbell. There's a scene towards the middle-end of the movie where Susan Calvin (blandly played by Bridget Moynahan) sneakily kills a fake robot when she's supposed to be terminating Sonny. Now, we're told that V.I.K.I. (Virtual Interactive Kinetic Intelligence) is the top notch of top-notch technology. Looks like a little hand magic is all that was needed to fool the program. How does that make sense? It doesn't. It's one of those nasty beasts that ruin films. Plot hole. A big, stinky plot hole that could hold a bajillion V.I.K.I.s.

1. Will Smith ain't prejudice. Cast in the lead role of Spooner, Smith has the task of hating robots. Fine, doesn't seem so hard. I mean he's been mean to aliens and Carlton a thousand times before. A few automatons should be no problem whatsoever. Except there's no mean slurs against robots. Calling them can openers and toasters really isn't that insulting. And Smith just doesn't give it his all. Pursed lips and emo-laden expressions are not enough to get me to understand that you hates the robots that ruined your life. I want language, I want fire burning behind eyes, I want prejudice like it exists today. Deep-seated and relentless. That's what could have saved this film, make it more than just a popcorn flick with action scenes, corny jokes, and painful bouts of exposition. Curse you, Will Smith, you toaster-hater!