Casual Debris

Short Story: Robert Bloch, "Block that Metaphor" (1958)

2012-02-21T17:12:00.001-05:00

Bloch, Robert, "Block that Metaphor"

Bibliography

Gold, H.L., Editor, Galaxy Magazine, October 1958, Galaxy Publishing Corporation. pp 134-144
Bloch, Robert, Atoms and Evil, NY: Fawcett Gold Medal, August 1962. pp. 60-69

Rating: 7/10

The extraordinarily prolific and often entertaining Robert Bloch has been continuously anthologized in various genre collections. Yet while some stories such as "Beetles" (Weird Tales, December 1938), "Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper" (Weird Tales, July 1943) and "The Man Who Collected Poe" (Famous Fantastic Mysteries, October 1951) appear and re-appear to seemingly no end, others such as "Block that Metaphor" are a surprisingly rare find. I managed to locate a copy of the original publication at the university library, who were kind enough to grant me permission to photocopy the pages of the archive-bound Galaxy journals. I've since given myself permission to post images of these copies to share with you all.

What is "surprising" about the story's rarity is that it is a great example of Bloch's fusion between humour and horror, and features a surprise ending which makes readers emit an odd sound as they struggle between the expulsion of air while laughing, to the ingestion of air in their expression of shock.

Moreover, "Block that Metaphor" is a science fiction story, a genre that Bloch, as prolific as he was, practiced only occasionally, though often successfully, having been awarded a prestigious Hugo for another oft-anthologized piece, "That Hell-Bound Train" (Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, September 1958). In fact, "Block that Metaphor" may have been eternally overshadowed by the well-received Hugo-winner, which was published in MF&SF one month earlier.

In this story of the future, humans have recently struck relations with an otherworldly race. Members of this race have the ability to pick up subvocalizations, described as those little conscious thoughts we might have yet don't fully vocalize. Furthermore, they have a tendency to take statement and expression literally. The race is deficient in (though not absent of) emotion, and are overly practical, so that the colourful English language is often lost on them. And it doesn't end there. Since members of this race have no use of noses, they instead wear different attachments in the middle of their faces depending on the situation. Attachments are often ornamental, though some have more practical uses, such as a drill or sharp blade, should the need arise.

Otherworldly ambassador Vorm, is visiting diplomat Lane Borden at the Embassy, as they are attempting to reach an agreement concerning extraterrestrial mining. A final important detail concerning these aliens is that are coated by a kind of natural armour which prevents them from being harmed in gaseous or extreme temperature galactic mining sites. It's this coating that has led to the nickname "mechs," as in mechanical beings. This meeting is being held in secret, since the general population of Earth has not quite accepted the creatures, especially since, with their knack of taking things literally, including subvocalizations, they have accidentally harmed a few members of Earth's first contact crew. Lane has quite the task ahead of him, dealing carefully with this unusual visitor with all the pressure of a mob outside the Embassy, a large group protesting the current negotiations. During all of this he must also attend to his beautiful bride-to-be, Margaret Zurich, a talented classical pianist. Though Vorm has little emotion, he does love music, so that there is potential for equal footing and mutual understanding.

But since this is a Robert Bloch story, we receive a nice little package that includes a twist that is both horrific and humourous. Though the story exists primarily for its twist ending, Bloch manages nonetheless to create a fairly well-rounded story, detailing a truly unique alien and creating an appropriate situation and its corresponding circumstances. Had the story been half its length, solely fixated on the great ending, it would likely have been forgettable, but Bloch did well in expanding it, and though the plot is nothing revolutionary, for a ten-pager it is quite fun and effective.

The page-sized drawing on page 140 is by Martinez, and details the first meeting between Vorm and Margaret, who is keeping her composure while in the presence of such an alarmingly different humanoid. Martinez captures Vorm quite well as per Bloch's description. What's specifically effective is that we don't see Vorm's face, and this idea of nose attachments is left to our own vivid imaginations. Though this scene lies in the future, the human characters are throwbacks from the 1950s. Those headphone-like objects Lane and Margaret are wearing are devices that help to block out subvocalizations, a preventative measure. Nice shadows and detail nonetheless, and the meeting selected for the story's art is appropriate, since it eventually leads to disaster.

All These Little Worlds: Stories from the Fiction Desk 2 (2011)

2012-02-07T22:11:00.004-05:00

Redman, Rob, editor, All These Little Worlds: Stories from the Fiction Desk 2, London: The Fiction Desk, fall 2011.

For my review of Various Authors, please visit this page.
For The Fiction Desk website, please slide over here. (And if you can, please support them by subscribing.)
For the Goodreads page, take a free ride to this link.

Having enjoyed the stories included in Various Authors, and having been introduced to various authors, I was looking forward to The Fiction Desk's follow-up, All These Little Worlds (which for a few months I kept mis-reading as All These Little Words). No matter, since the anthology contains nine worlds, each in turn containing several words. As with its predecessor, this collection is a nice mixture of straightforward literary realism with some fine examples of the literary fantastic. What I've liked so far about these Fiction Desk anthologies (well, the first two at least) is the inclusion of literary fantasy (or contemporary urban magic realism, if you prefer). I've stopped reading many journals due to their lack of imagination, since practically every story starts reading just like its neighbour (this was the case with the respected yet ordinary Glimmer Train). There is much of the ordinary in literature, and not enough of the extraordinary. The combination of realism and literary fantasy is well balanced.

(As an aside, I use the term "literary fantasy" simply not to confuse with straightforward fantasy, as that word standing by itself conjures for many sword and sorcery and little hobbits.)

In one way Worlds ups the ante over Authors simply by including a novelette. A risky move for a 167-page anthology, since Lambert's thirty-pager takes up about 18% of the anthology. One bad long story can drag the entire book down 18%. That's pressure. Yet the publication does well, selecting a strong work and placing it nicely as the third story following something far lighter in tone.

Of the nine stories I liked eight. As part of The Fiction Desk's award for the "best" story in each of its anthologies, Worlds authors voted James Benmore's "Jaggers & Crown" as the best story in the anthology. A truly fine story among many, but my vote goes to Halimah Marcus's "Dress Code," a real surprise.

"Jaggers & Crown" by James Benmore. 7/10

On a morning just like any other, Kevin Crown is settled with breakfast and the paper and notices an unusual heading in the obituaries: "Kevin Crown 1930-2011." Naturally, reading the surprisingly short entry, Crown begins to reminisce about his career as straight man to the incomparable and risqué comedian of the 1950s and 60s, Sonny Jaggers.

The story of old-time comedic duo Jaggers and Crown is familiar, and its familiarity helps place it in the annals of the golden age of western entertainment. Yet of course the duo is fictional, but Benmore managers to create a convincing and interesting bio of the team, wonderfully brought to life through Crown's own voice. We have an alcoholic gay front man in the 1950s who is redefining radio and early television comedy, while battling demons in a bottle (and through the form of a nutty clairvoyant). The story is told in a light and straightforward manner, ending on a kind of punchline to a subplot that is worthy of early radio. What I liked most about the story is the tragedy of not Jaggers, but that of Crown. While Jaggers died young and in his prime, Crown was destined to live until an eighty year-old nearly forgotten side-kick. This is not an element at the forefront of the story, which helps to heighten its inherent layer of tragedy, as the well meaning Crown becomes the side-kick of his own life story.

"Swimming with the Fishes" by Jennifer Moore. 7/10

At the pet shop Mum gets her children a diver. His name is John. A diver is evidently a little man who lives and swims around a household aquarium. The unnamed narrator is the little girl who is totally taken by the diver, while her little brother Davy wants something a little more exciting.

I appreciate The Fiction Desk's openness to literary fantasy and the unconventional. In Various Authors we had some great selections, most notably Patrick Whittaker's great piece "Celia and Harold." While "Swimming with the Fishes" is a good fun read, it lacks something above the element of fun. The ending sort of transforms the piece into a bit of a joke, though (without revealing anything) there is the implication that modern children are so spoiled and self-involved that the life of others has little value to them. Spoiler: Davy's final act of flushing John is notable in that while the diver is a pet, he is also sort of human, and if we are to continue along this thread, how will future children respond to actual humans when they cease to be amusing? This act is foreshadowed by the story's ominous title.

"Pretty Vacant" by Charles Lambert. 7/10

Lambert's novelette features teenaged Italian Francesca, daughter of a separated and self-absorbed wealthy couple, who is sent to the UK for the summer to a boarding school filled with seemingly unwanted wealthy kids. Her mom tells her that with the recent string of kidnappings in Milan, Francesca will be safer elsewhere, yet the girl feels she is being dumped. She is soon clung to by a spoiled Spanish girl named Pilar, and befriends homeless boy Garry, with whom they plot a little kidnapping of their own, which they title "Operation Pretty Vacant," or OPV.

The term and title "Pretty Vacant" can be attributed to a variety of story aspects. We are dealing with spoiled and unseeing teenagers from different classes. Sure we feel sorry for their having been abandoned, but like their materially-driven parents they are wholly self-interested and motivated by childish emotion. These are teenagers who won't grow up, not just because their circumstances have dragged them down, but because notions of self are so ingrained that they live by childlike instinct. There is hope, however, as we learn that the mature teacher Elizabeth was herself once an abandoned teenager yet has managed to survive and work in an environment designed to help others.

"Room 307" by Mischa Hiller. 6/10

At a hotel restaurant a married man with a new set of twins is dining alone. Waiting for his supper to arrive he phones his wife, who surprisingly brings up their recent difficulties related to the absence of intimacy. Soon thereafter a beautiful woman enters the restaurant and asks to sit with him; it is clear he is married and all the male gazes are fixated on her. Soon he is aware she might be flirting with him, and a battle between his needs and his love ensues. "Room 307" takes its time to build up and appears directionless at times. Clear, concrete writing, however, keeps the reader in the story to discover a piece about relationships, primary needs and the notion of selflessness.

"Dress Code" by Halimah Marcus. 8/10

New private school English instructor Linus is having some difficulty coping, not with his class but with the consequences of the recent Casual Friday dress code the female students are abusing. We discover, however, that Linus's coping lies beyond the mundane tribulations of a high school teacher, that he has always been coping, with women and with life. The one person he feels who can, in a sense, save him, or give him some kind of purpose, is the seemingly non-conformist student Amanda. However, just like any sixteen year-old, and despite her maturity, keen sensitivity and bright future, she is nonetheless caught up with being a teenager, and Linus's focus becomes utterly misguided. The highly social conscious teenagers are clearly beyond Linus's understanding, and his unconventional yet accidental approach to his class's curiosity costs him a good deal.

A very fine story with strong character delineations, it quickly grasps my vote for best story of this issue. At times comedic, the story borders on the tragic, illuminating the very real hyperbolic misunderstandings between generations and between students and instructors. More than that, however, the story is about an outcast in a world that has rejected him, and his tragic inability to find an appropriate way to return.

"The Romantic" by Colin Corrigan. 5/10

Martin is a former printing press worker who, after an accident at the plant that cost him his left arm, lives in a small cottage writing poetry. Bad poetry. Verse upon verse of bad poetry. About love and daffodils and sunrises and such. He meets a heartbroken Connecticut traveller at the local pub, and will soon come to an unfortunate awakening. The bad poetry is hilarious, but the story loses a little with some of its own weak, abstract prose, such as "Details begin to float into position about her face, like strokes of water colour adding definition to her presence." According to his bio, Corrigan, a filmmaker, is hoping to translate "The Romantic" into a short film. I'd be curious to see it.

"After All the Fun We Had" by Ryan Shoemaker. 4/10

A high school official explains how he went to great lengths to maintain student enrollment. I have never been a fan of stories that act as semi-comedic rants, or of any kind of ranting, so this one isn't for me. There were a couple of amusing moments, but to me it's a question of style and approach, and this is one approach I can do without.

"'Glenda'" by Andrew Jury. 6/10

Recently separated Charlie now spends his free Saturday evenings with his former mother-in-law "Glenda," a boisterous woman he can only picture in quotation marks. Oddly though, their relationship is evolving rather positively, and Charlie realizes he's beginning to look forward to her visits. While I often claim stories should be shorter, I wanted this one to be longer and to follow the progress of character and relationship evolution. The story is a good combination of drama and humour with great character focus.

"Get on Green" by Jason Atkinson. 7/10

Little Tonya wants to "get on green" today; essentially to get onto the positive roster at school. But good behaviour doesn't come naturally to her, and the pressures of adult expectations and her mother's struggles have their adverse effects. A great read, surprisingly touching with a good mix of the hopeful and the defeated.

Henry Morrison editor, Come Seven / Come Death, 1965

2012-02-03T22:18:00.002-05:00

Morrison, Henry, Come Seven / Come Death, New York: Pocket Books 50122, April 1965. 147 pages

This is for Friday's Forgotten Books. For more forgotten books, please visit Patti Abbott's pattinase.

Though a fairly obscure book, it was covered for FFB two years ago by Randy Johnson at Not the Baseball Pitcher.

When I was a kid my parents invested in a small apartment building. They didn't own it for very long: the area was sketchy, the work was just too much, and a large number of tenants turned out to be problematic. Among the problems were midnight moves; people jumping back rent by moving out in the middle of the night. The only advantage to these midnight moves is that tenants were forced to leave some belongings behind and my parents had to content themselves with rent replacements, such as furniture, a kitchen knife they still use, assorted miscellanea, and of course books. Lots of books. From first edition Nancy Drew titles to Harlequins from the 1970s, along with a wide assortment of mystery paperbacks. Many of these paperbacks we later sold to second hand shops, which I now regret as they are (or might be) collectables. Among those was this tiny anthology I hung onto and have finally gotten around to reading.

The anthology is an interesting mix, a selection of the great mystery detectives from the 1950s brought together in the mid-1960s. The stories are original to the anthology, no reprints, and clearly some of the veteran authors either had fresher ideas for their aging detectives, or took the project more seriously than others. Which is to say there is quite a discrepancy between the quality of the different stories.

"The Guilty Party" by Richard S. Prather. 7/10

"There are days you feel euphoric for no particular reason; there are babes who make you feel euphoric for particular reasons." A heart-stoppingly beautiful woman walks into detective Shell Scott's office asking him to look at this thing under her bed, "a little funny metal thing." Scott, melting at the sight of this woman, is prepared to do anything for her.

Prather's noir is stylish, the prose floating on well constructed witty sentences. The characters are simple, though appropriately so for such a whimsical piece. The only disappointment is that the ending is not as good as the beginning, and the solution to the mystery itself is clear early on, especially considering there is only one suspect. This isn't too problematic, though, as the story is not about the mystery but is instead invested in the comedy, and does a fine job at that. Reading this story for a second time was just as entertaining as the first. I wonder if this story has seen much light since leading this little paperback.

"The Corpse Maker" by Harold Q. Masur. 6/10

When New York defence attorney Scott Jordan's petty thieving client Bertram Heckler doesn't show for his morning hearing, Jordan rushes over to his apartment and discovers the small-time crook beaten nearly to death. In a few hours Jordan encounters a second near-corpse, a dead man, and a number of crooked individuals. And of course there's the requisite beautiful dame. A good little mystery, fast-paced and told through the charms of tough guy DA Jordan. There's also an amusing early reference to LSD: "What's that?" Jordan asks. "A drug used by psychiatrists. It's called instant analysis. Cleans out the subconscious like lye in a sceptic tank."

(Masur was a regular contributor to the top mystery magazines of the 1950s-1970s, including Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine. For Hitchcock, or more appropriately, for Random House, he ghost-edited a couple of hardcover anthologies following the passing of Robert Arthur, including Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Stories to Be Read with the Lights On (1973). While I generally like Masur's short stories, I never thought he was as good an anthologist as his predecessor Arthur.)

"The Memory Guy" by Henry Kane. 5/10

Peter Chambers is helping rising actress Rosanne Hamilton with some phone calls she's been receiving, calls threatening the life of her father, Judge David Hamilton. Meanwhile, the judge has threatened to disinherit his daughter, demanding she leave the stage or he will bequeath his fortune to two colleagues, including her recently separated husband George Hudson, known as "the memory guy" due to his photographic memory.

Kane's story points so clearly to the mystery's solution that, as I was reading, I was immediately piecing the parts together. Like one of those giant piece jigsaw puzzles for kids, the ones with only six pieces that you know where to place each component only by glancing their way. The idea is ok but it's lazily constructed and certain parts feel rushed that's it's simply not a very good read. Oddly, and irritatingly, the story blurb on the back cover even gives the ending away. Perhaps the person responsible figured out the mystery on page one and assumed it was so evident that it was not a solution but a piece of the puzzle.

"With Frame to Match" by Frank Kane. 3/10

Detective Johnny Liddell receives an early morning visitor, a blonde bombshell who asks him to help her brother who is being framed for murder in a nearby small town. So Johnny has his way with said bombshell and heads off to the small town to stumble into some organized crime. And he does in fact stumble into it, since rather than investigating and figuring things out detective-like, someone tells him what's going on. Then we get more exposed breasts, full ones, and some fighting with fists, knives, guns and an open window fifteen floors up. (For whatever reason this small town has some tall buildings.)

Not a good story. The emphasis on voluptuous blondes and redheads with cascading hair and full breasts with a sort-of mystery conveniently tossed in does not make a good story. I know it's 1965, but the fact that Liddell sleeps with the blonde sister when she's terrified for her brother's life is tasteless. Liddell is, in this story at any rate, not much of a detective, just a womanizing, weapon-wielding tough guy. And the "frame to match" business is poorly executed; essentially Liddell speculates that the witnesses who signed off on the the blonde's brother's photo, pinning him with the murder, signed the back of the photograph unaware that it had been stuck to photo of the real killer. Yet this isn't proven, just tossed in as a theory which everyone's supposed to lap up 'cause he's the hero of the story. Sigh.

If I'm ever falsely imprisoned, please don't call in this guy.

"Too Much Like Murder" by Jonathan Craig. 8/10

"Perhaps--like so many other unpleasant things in this life--it will just have to run its course."

Neal Cranston is murdered in his basement, and Detective Pete Selby is called in to investigate. A wealthy and reclusive man, Cranston spent his time repairing old jukeboxes and nickelodeons. He was also a soft man, much to the disgust of his proud brother Howard and his spiteful wife Elaine. Yet for a reclusive man there seem to be innumerable suspects, like the pretty model Bonnie Lambert, her jealous and obsessive admirer Wayne Ferris, Elaine's lover bartender Vince Miller, and the mysterious Roy Stark.

I was glued to this story, its various characters and convoluted relationships. What appears to be a fairly straightforward mystery, with Selby seeking out suspects and interviewing them in due course, transforms into tragedy, and the end is worthy of its suspenseful investigation. I know Craig was big in his time but this is probably the first of his works I've read, and having read it I will make a note to seek out more. Hopefully this tragic piece has made its way into an anthology or two.

"The Shakedown" by Richard Deming. 6/10

Manville "Manny" Moon meets friends at the classy El Patio resto club just when a man is being tossed out. Unfortunately the consequence of this act manifests in a bomb being later tossed in through a window, killing a patron. Moon spots the culprit as he flees, and suspects that the affair is part of a recent shakedown in which a crime syndicate is extorting money from neighbourhood restaurants in return for protection.

Though the story is a fairly straightforward mystery, the denoument is quite good, another piece of noir tragedy. Fisticuffs and beautiful women play their parts, but their parts are necessary and not over-the-top.

"Baby Sister" by Stephen Marlowe. 4/10

Chester Drum is in Cannes on vacation when he is hired by expensive prostitute Caroline Thevenin to shadow her baby sister. Thing is, innocent sister Gabrielle recently walked in on Caroline and learned at sight of her sister's profession, and in her shock and dismay has been spending Caroline's savings on drink and gambling. The shortest of the stories in the little anthology, "Baby Sister" is quite forgettable. There is nothing remarkable, original or unexpected that occurs, the plot structure is a little sloppy with all the backtracking as to how Drum got involved with Thevenin. And the last line made me groan.

Joe McKinney, Dead City (2006)

2012-01-08T02:28:00.000-05:00

McKinney, Joe, Dead City, Pinnacle Books (Kensington Publishing), November 2006 (below, right)
___________, Dead City, Pinnacle Books (Kensington Publishing), October 2010 (further down, left)

Rating: 6/10
Joe McKinney at Goodreads.

Well in advance of the no longer recent zombie rage I was hooked on the celluloid dead, but only recently have I ventured into the world of zombies in print. The walking dead is a great concept, adaptable to a variety of socialist agendas, everything from consumerism and environmentalism to the facets of expanding urbanism, while being outrageously violent, vile, and often exciting. My foray into print zombies has been a little lukewarm, my initial excitement walled up by disappointment. John Joseph Adams's anthology The Living Dead proved to be a mixed bundle, the scale unfortunately tipping toward the negative side (with a few strong stories, though, including Dan Simmons's notable "Last Year's Class Picture"); Brian Keene's The Rising is now notable only for being among the worst books I've ever read (see my review at Goodreads); J.L. Bourne's Day by Day Armageddon was entertaining, but nonetheless average due to its flat tone and the fact that the narrator refuses to give his allies their own voice. With zombie literature I was hoping for some fine satire, social criticism and dark perspectives on the instinctive nature of human behaviour. Clearly I was hoping for too much.

Recommended some time ago on a couple of discussion boards, Joe McKinney's Dead City was a good balance between trashy zombie novel and social criticism. The novel is the first part of a series titled Dead World, and was followed in 2010 by Apocalypse of the Dead (Pinnacle Books).

Nothing earth-shattering, McKinney nonetheless manages to fuse his book with violent urban zombie adventure and a few scattered comments on the decline of modern society. There were elements I liked and elements I liked less, but I appreciate his attempt to cover so many elements common to zombie fiction. Besides the violent action and social touches, we are given a narrow geographical setting, philosophical brooding, scientific speculation, episodic scenarios, varied characters of varying race and gender, character tensions, dialogue, family drama, a range of arsenal, slow deaths and quick deaths, and slow zombies and quick moving zombies. (I wonder if he followed a checklist while plotting the text.) Surprisingly the end result is not a mess, and though my reading slowed up somewhere around page one hundred, it soon picked up again and I genuinely enjoyed the read. Moreover, on top of everything we are even given closure (which I assume opens up again in the wake of its sequel).

My preferred elements included the focus on police procedure, and the personal character elements which heightened the overall drama. McKinney was once a police officer and is clearly comfortable writing from the point of view of a young cop trying to survive a zombie uprising. The knowledge of everything from weapons, police vehicles and police procedure make the read interesting and somewhat educational. In fact, protagonist and narrator Eddie Hudson is believable as both cop and brand new father. The attention to Hudson's concern for wife and son are not at all sappy, but are rather welcome in the midst of zombie gore. What makes Dead City a good read is that despite including so many elements, nothing is really overdone (except for maybe the death of a certain cop early on). In fact, I would have been happy to read less action and more character-driven narrative. Yes, even in a zombie novel.

I couldn't quite buy much of the scientific speculation, shared primarily through high school science teacher and all-around nerd and jackass Ken Stoler. I cannot believe that the zombie virus places its infected in an animated stated while keeping host body alive, especially since so many were shot to pieces and continued walking. Blood loss alone would have killed the human, let alone having organs blown away. Even the advanced decaying process described would kill the infected through so many other means that the "dead" would never manage to walk.

"I have the terrible feeling that what we're seeing out there is the failure of our community, that all of that death is simply the manifestation of our lack of place, a sense of who we are and what we mean to each other." McKinney's philosophic treaty is broad and a little general (and it should read "one another"), but I appreciate his attempt at placing the epidemic in some kind of social context. Some additional ideas from other characters would've been welcome. Hopefully we get more of this in the second book.

A few things I would have done without. The early references to zombie movies mar the suspension of disbelief as they place the story in a fictional context. Moreover, if the characters are familiar with the dead of Romero and others, they would immediately shoot at the zombie heads rather than their chests. Anyone familiar with the genre would instinctively go for the head shot.

SPOILER ALERT. There are some missed character opportunities, particularly with Channel 9 reporter Sandy Navarro. There is a three-way tension built into the story when the sexy reporter appears, and I was getting psyched up for some character tension amid the urban chaos, yet it doesn't go anywhere, and when the three drive off from their meeting, Sandy becomes a non-character (as though leaving the church turns her into a zombie), and she sits quietly in the back seat until she's devoured. Literally.

While the first person narration is surprisingly good, with consistent and fluid sentences, the dialogue is at times weak, particularly with the bantering between cops Hudson and Marcus. The humour also doesn't work as it feels forced.

Finally, the occasional typos and grammatical errors were irritating. Copy editors should learn the proper use of lay and lie.

The good outweighs the bad and at some point, when the mood grips me, I'll likely pick up its sequel.

Blogging: Comments

2011-12-31T14:57:00.001-05:00

I enjoy receiving comments and emails, whether they are thankful, informative, chatty, critical or merely pointing out blunders. It's nice to think there's a community out there getting acquainted through one another's articles & posts. The sharing of knowledge and information, thoughts and ideas, is important, and the internet allows for quick and easy sharing. It's also nice to know you are being not only read, but that your writing is generating some form of thought.

Since I started this blog I've kept comment options open to all. I believe in freedom of speech as well as freedom and encouragement of response or rebuttle. Anyone should be able to respond to my articles regardless of their affiliation; no one should be a member of blogspot or google or any organization or institution. I'll deal with the spam (I've received only two spam posts, promptly deleted); I don't think I'll ever be popular enough for the efforts of spammers to pay off so I don't think my blog will ever be inundated, and what individual spammers wish to waste their time with is up to them.

Recently I received my first hate comment. I appreciated the time the author took to read my article (I assume he read one), and then to comment on it. The great effort he mustered up in order to articulate so effectively and so elaborately his feelings for my blogging. His words will remain with me for hours, even days to come. He wrote in that inimitable, poetic style, the brief yet effective words, "you suck." All in lower case. Such wisdom, such accuracy; he is likely a minimalist, and his brief comment carries between the lines (or I should say characters) such depth. Such passion. There is little mystery behind the note, though. It wasn't a comment on my article but a slur aimed directly at me. I monitor my blog visits and the activity during the days prior to his post points clearly to the author's identity. I'm certain the comment had nothing to do with the Tales from the Darkside post he tagged it to. I won't post my speculation, however, since I don't wish to embarrass him (most definitely a he), nor do I wish to embarrass myself in case I am wrong (a possibility, let's not kid ourselves).

Having read that missive I decided not to let just anyone post on my blog. I can't help it if some people choose to be rude and unintelligent, let alone uninspired in their expression to tell me what is really on their minds. I can however help to lessen, though minutely, rudeness and stupidity from spreading over the world wide web. Blocking anonymous commenting will likely lessen such uncreative and uninspiring responses. There is enough of it on the internet, and enough of it in the world, and I'd rather not be a catalyst in adding more.

But then I changed my mind. Thanks to allowing anonymous commenting I've received some good, productive comments, including two people pointing out errors I've made (one in a Darkside character's name, and the other concerning the death of Mr. Charles W. Runyon, whom I was pleased to learn is quite alive). Thanks to such astute observations, people are helping to improve on my articles by taking the time to correct me. I truly appreciate such devotion.

Besides, the great thing about hosting a blog is that I have the ability to delete whatever comment I wish to. In a year and a half I've deleted three: two spam and the slur that prompted this post. I will never delete a post that points out an error I have made; indeed I welcome these as they are appropriate and necessary for the sake of accuracy. I don't think I'm playing at Big Brother by choosing to eliminate some comments; I am not altering information nor am I doing it for the sake of self-interest, otherwise I'd keep only the praise and correct my errors without acknowledging the worthy correctors. I will, however, make a note when I do delete a comment, and hence leave a ghost of the unwanted, just to remind myself of the kind of society the internet is, and to keep hoping that the winds of change will make the world wide web a better, more respectful place. Some might say I am an idealist, but maybe it's just that I suck.

If the author of that statement wishes to post something of value, even anonymously, please go ahead. If that author is shy, then send me an email. Please feel free to contradict anything I have said, but have a point, make it clear, and I might end up even agreeing with you. Proper spelling is a plus.

Otherwise you'll get deleted.

Briefly: John Fowles, The Collector (1963)

2011-12-30T12:55:00.000-05:00

Fowles, John, The Collector, London: Jonathan Cape, 1963. (pictured right)
_____, The Collector, London: Pan Books, 1972. (my edition, pictured below)

The Collector at Goodreads
Rating: 8/10

Despite being a great novel, I was slightly disappointed with John Fowles's The Collector. The novel tells the story of social outcast butterfly collector Frederick Clegg who, after having come into a considerable sum of money, kidnaps young art student Miranda Grey and keeps her captive in his basement. The first part of the book is told through Clegg's point of view, while the second is told through Miranda's, with a brief return to Clegg at the end.

The novel is great in its treatment of character and how it plays with the readers' sympathies. Clegg is an unusual kidnapper as he does nothing to hurt Miranda, but rather fawns over her, tolerates her every mood and does his best to please her, though with the exception of giving her her freedom. Despite being clearly disturbed and doing something terribly wrong, he is not "evil" the way in which we imagine kidnappers to be. During his narrative we grow to like Miranda, who is a spunky and intelligent twenty year-old. I was rooting for her to get the best of Clegg in their little game of outwitting each other, or rather of Miranda trying to outwit Clegg's obsessively careful game of warden. I found the first part fascinating because, though I was rooting for Miranda, it was all told through Clegg's point of view.

Jarring is the point of view shift half-way through, yet it is meant to be jarring (like this sentence). Now we are reading Miranda's journal, and our impression of her soon changes drastically. She is an unbelievably arrogant woman who thinks highly of herself and looks down without hesitation on others, including Clegg. Like Clegg she too is the collector of the title, as she collects and examines and catalogues the people around her. Of course there is no physical collecting on her part, though she has learned to keep herself captive amid her arrogant and narrow world view; there's no pinning of wings and keeping anything under glass, yet her sharp mind and sense of self allows her to pin people metaphorically, and examine them through the glass of her eyes. While I was still rooting for her to escape since Clegg's crime is greater and more accessible, she was no longer the spunky Miranda that we meet through Clegg's point of view.

My disappointment in the novel is fairly basic. I was so involved with Clegg's point of view that the switch to Miranda was not overly welcome. While I did get into Miranda's story, it lumbered on and became a little repetitive. Fowles makes his arguments clear and there was no need to have so many lengthy spiels in her diary, or so many scenes devoted to Miranda's playboy mentor G.P. Once I'd finished the novel, however, I found myself liking it more than when I was reading these sequences, at times wanting them to end quickly. With The Collector Fowles has given us a fascinating read incorporating two characters that are simultaneously likeable and despicable, and a finish which, though a little predictable for our time, is nonetheless quite disturbing.

The Best of Tales from the Darkside

2011-12-29T02:02:00.000-05:00

It's taken me some time to get to this article. After a few months of watching the four seasons of Tales from the Darkside in their entirety, I compiled a bunch of notes and a short list of what I felt are the strongest of the Darksides. Opinions for any anthology series differ vastly (as witnessed on IMDb posts), and rather than making a list of the ninety episodes from top to bottom (which won't help anyone, no matter how much the general public likes lists), I've grouped together the five or six "best ofs" in three straightforward categories, with a brief reasoning as to why they were included. I've reviewed each of these episodes individually and have included links to those reviews. The categories I've selected are for overall episode, actor and actress, with some honourable mentions and notes on directing and writing. I won't pretend to be an expert in areas such as cinematography and music, so rather than embarrass myself in attempting to filter those, I'm sticking to the basics.

The strongest seasons were without doubt the first and fourth. Not only did they sport many of the true Darkside classics, they consisted of mostly consistently above par episodes, not relying on the many poorly executed comedies that season three was notorious for. I don't know if the show's budget differed from season to season, but production values were fairly consistent throughout the series. There are exceptions, of course, with some episodes clearly more costly than others, whether for their cast or actual staging, while others are rushed-looking, sloppily produced over perhaps three days or so. When working on The Twilight Zone, Rod Serling was given a budget for the entire season, and he meted out the cash depending on the strength of the script, so rather than giving each episode an even sum, the stronger scripts received more money in order to help produce some truly exceptional small films. For Serling and his show this worked out quite well, and I'd be curious to know how the producers and creators of Darkside handled their own budget. (It's in my research notes and if I learn anything I'll add it here).

Best Episodes

"Trick or Treat" (0.0) & "Circus" (3.1). The Pilot and the third season opener are both penned by series creator George Romero, and are quite similar in intent and delivery. Both are well scripted (by Romero), well directed (Bob Balaban for the pilot and Michael Gornick for "Circus") and well acted. For "Trick or Treat" it's Barnard Hughes in the lead with great support from I.M. Hobson and Max Wright, while for "Circus" William Hickey gives a great performance as the mysterious circus operator. The pilot is unfortunately bogged down by some silliness at the end, which is partly due to the low budget special effects, and partly to the seemingly indecisive point in making the witch an adult or a children's monster. However, the exceptional quasi Dickensian script, with Hughes doing a tremendous job at emphasising Gideon Hackles's position (even the name is Dickensian), takes "Trick or Treat" to a level of delightedness. Moreover, the premise itself is original and the dark, moody atmosphere and the creative sets are a joy to watch. Both episodes carry simple, straightforward messages, yet "Circus" delivers its message somewhat better by simply being a darker, less forgiving piece. There is a dash of humour thrown into this one as well, but there's no confusion with its intentions and "Circus" is doubtless for an adult audience.

"Inside the Closet" (1.17) & "Family Reunion" (4.16). Like the Romero-written episodes above, these two, directed by long-time Romero collaborator Tom Savini, are also similar. Both feature a hidden monster in the family, a protective father and an outsider who helps to reveal that creature to the viewer, though not the public at large. For both it's the make-up and sets that help make the episodes so watchable and memorable, rather than the directing or writing. Savini focuses on his creature creations, using shadows to slowly reveal the make-up as each episode progresses. This is particularly effective with "Family Reunion," the overall weaker of the two, as the boy's physical transformation is superbly done. Both episodes are predictable, yet Savini does well in using the make-up as the reveal rather than the obvious plot twist.

"The Last Car" (2.19). As with many Darksides this one is quite predictable. However, it nonetheless manages to maintain a high level of suspense throughout. The quirkiness of the characters and brief sequencing are original and hypnotic, and the tunnel sequences are fantastic. The concept itself of the tunnel and the notion that these moments of terror will be perpetual make "The Last Car" among the more horrific of episodes.

"The Geezenstacks" (3.5). Everything about this little episode is well done, from an excellent script, cinematography and directing, to the wonderful set design, gorgeous dolls and a fine performance by Craig Wasson in the lead. What tops this piece beyond simple television fare is its high level of musical sophistry. The use of music throughout (which I discuss in my episode review) helps transform "The Geezenstacks" into a remarkable piece of short film. My personal favourite Darkside.

"If the Shoes Fit..." (1.18) & "Going Native" (4.17). These two much-maligned episodes are superb and among the most original half hours to appear on television in the 1980s. Both are satirical, and while "Going Native" plays out in a serious tone, "If the Shoes Fit..." does a little winking at the camera. Serious in theme, both episodes take a chance in presenting their points in unusual and highly original productions. Because of this they are not terribly accessible to the general public, and leave many a little baffled. The fact that reaction to these episodes is often some form of confusion is very telling in how generic and paint-by-numbers television in the 1980s had become.

Other excellent episodes include "Bigalow's Last Smoke" (1.21), "Ursa Minor" (2.10), the genuinely amusing "A New Lease on Life" (2.15), the strange but compelling "The Milkman Cometh" (3.13), the gorgeously noir "Everybody Needs a Little Love" (3.17), the horrific "No Strings" (4.5), and Stephen King's originally scripted "Sorry, Right Number" (4.9).

A note on directing

There were some well directed episodes, such as the two by Savini mentioned above, Bill Travis's work on "The Geezenstacks" and Balaban on "Trick or Treat." Yet some episodes which could easily have been flops were saved by decisions made behind the camera. Two that come to mind are "Mary, Mary" (4.2) by Katarina Wittich and "Hush" (4.18) by Allen Coulter. Neither are stellar episodes and both risk being tedious, yet their energy and the treatment of their individual stories make them better than they perhaps should have been. "Hush" could have been a lengthy and dull chase sequence, yet the ground floor house is not only well designed by well treated by the camera. We are dragged through the house and shown individual components that come into play, getting us involved in the action as we too are searching for ways of destroying the funny-looking noise eater. "Mary, Mary" on the other hand, being predictable and shmaltzy, is saved by a well used set and good camera play. Of course Margaret Whitton also has much to do with saving this episode.

As for series directors, the most consistently good were Bill Travis ("The Geezenstacks," "The Enormous Radio," "Distant Signals," "The Spirit Photographer"), Tom Savini ("Inside the Closet," "Family Reunion," "Halloween Candy") and John Strysik, who directed six in total: "The Last Car," "A New Lease on Life," "The Milkman Cometh," "Love Hungry" and "Black Widows," along with the weaker "I Can't Help Saying Goodbye."

A note on writing

Obvious excellent entries aside, there were a few truly well written episodes. John Harrison's adaptation of Robert Bloch's short story "Everybody Needs a Little Love" (3.17) is well handled. A nice little noir paranoia which almost made it to my list of best episodes. "The Apprentice" (4.13) had some nice moments and the differing ideals, time periods and so forth were well translated into the script by Ellen Sandhaus (who also penned the much weaker "The Social Climber" (3.19)). Stephen King's "Sorry, Right Number" (4.9) can easily be used in a script-writing 101 course, the material is so well handled and the little familial moments fit in well. Even the somewhat exaggerated writing in "The False Prophet" (1.24) by Jule Selbo from a story by Larry Fulton works well for the silly fun that it is. I'll also mention "The Swap" (3.20) which has an original script by Richard Benner that is interesting because it is at times playful. Attention to even the smallest of details can add layers to even the most average of stories.

Writing for Darkside was no easy task. Many episodes featured so few characters that monologues were plentiful, people talking on telephones or to themselves. It's difficult keeping these scenes interesting, and writer and actor/monologuer are the two components that must make it work. Which is a great segue to the acting portion of this article.

There were no stand-out series writers. Though he wrote two excellent episodes, George Romero wrote an okay piece with "The Devil's Advocate" (2.7) and a flop with "Baker's Dozen" (3.9) which tries a little too hard and is not terribly well handled by director John Harrison. Robert Block fared better with three good episodes, doing pretty well in adapting his excellent short story "Beetles" (4.1), and having two successful adaptations of his own short stories, James Houghton's adaptation of the fine little fantasy "A Case of the Stubborns" (1.9) and John Harrison's adaptation and direction for "Everybody Needs a Little Love" (3.17).

Best Actor

I've singled our six solid performances, four from the first season, from a variety of episodes. Others deserving mention are William Hickey for "Circus" (3.1), Craig Wasson for "The Geezenstacks" (3.5) and Stephen McHattie as the father in "Family Reunion" (4.16), all three of which I discuss in the best episodes section. Honourable mention goes to Abe Vigoda who was well cast as mob leader Jake Corelli in "A Choice of Dreams" (2.20).

Barnard Hughes in "Trick or Treat" (0.0). I can't get enough of the devilishly grinning Hughes in the series pilot. He is so involved in character Gideon Hackles's perverse notions of financial equality that you almost agree with him just as the poor accountant who finds it fair that Hackles charges him three cents for a cup of coffee at a business meeting. The complexity of the character is that he is not totally wrong in his reasoning, it is only that his reasoning overshadows the basic principles of human compassion, and the shop owner of the small failing agricultural town ends up reasoning his way to owning the region similarly to Henry Potter's attempt to own Bedford Falls in Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life (1946). Unlike Potter, Hackles likes to play little Halloween games with the local boys and girls.

Keenan Wynn in "I'll Give You a Million" (1.2). While the episode falls short at the end, the versatile and energetic Wynn gives a great performance as greedy millionaire Duncan Williams. There is nothing complex about the characters in this one, and Wynn is helped out by a fine performance from co-star George Petrie, but these details aside, without Wynn the episode would likely have been a pure flop.

Fritz Weaver in "Inside the Closet" (1.7). Tom Savini's first Darkside is a good one, and is helped out by the performance of long-time character actor Fritz Weaver. Weaver does a good job by stiffening body and tone while at the same time allowing the nerves to poke through as a college professor and a father defending a little monstrosity locked up in the closet he rents out to students. Unfortunately Weaver re-appeared in Darkside in the terribly failed comedy "Comet Watch" (2.13)

Eddie Bracken in "A Case of the Stubborns" (1.9). A difficult story to adapt, it did have some faults such as sequences that were a little too long and the fact that it tried to carry itself on almost a single joke. A good episode nonetheless, it features a young Brent Spiner (Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation) who does well as Reverend Peabody, and an even younger Christian Slater who does poorly as the boy. Bracken steals the show, however, as stubborn old Titus Tolliver who refuses to believe he has died. Bracken's body language and unique facial features are great for the role, as is his delivery of the character's unnatural stubbornness.

Dick Shawn in "If the Shoes Fit..." (1.18). The unique episode of a trailblazing gubernatorial candidate Bo Gumbs is certainly a rare feat, and without Dick Shawn's willingness and ability to be utterly silly while being completely serious, it could have fallen flat. As Gumbs, Shawn manages to get confused and to question the odd incidents that abound in his hotel, and meanwhile, wanting to please and impress everyone in his over-the-top bid for votes, plays along with the ridiculousness, revealing himself for what he truly is.

Jerry Orbach in "Everybody Needs a Little Love" (3.17). The character actor best known (and often only known) for his many years on Law & Order, the recently belated Jerry Orbach is wonderful in the absurd story of a man who witnesses an old acquaintance fall desperately in love with a mannequin. What's more absurd is that he begins to get a little jealous. Orbach as Roberts is crusty and disillusioned, having lived his years in rough style as a salesman with little to show for it. The story uses the loneliness of middle-aged working-class men who, having worked hard seem to have gained little from life.

Best Actress

It's great that Darkside offered strong roles for women, and I've selected seven to highlight. Other memorable roles include Ronee Blakley as Cassie Pines in "The False Prophet" (1.24), Tanya Fenmore with her great facial work in "The Trouble with Mary Jane" (2.9), and Sharon Madden in the amusing "Love Hungry" (4.11).

Carmen Matthews in "In the Cards" (1.12). This surprisingly above average episode features a great performance by Carmen Matthews in two distinct roles: the friendly and pleasant first-time visitor to the conniving Tarot reader, and the dark and disillusioned veteran false clairvoyant Madame Marlena, recently turned believer. Matthews pleasantness in the early part of the episode is in sharp contrast to the darkly leering Marlena, and I didn't at first recognize her.

Jane Connell in "Grandma's Last Wish" (1.22). This somewhat weak episode features a great role for Jane Connell as the elderly grandmother whose family is trying to get her out of the house. The episode is at times amusing, at times not, yet Connell's presence helps elevate it considerably.

Susan Strasberg in "Effect and Cause" (2.11). A neat idea for this episode is helped greatly by Strasberg as a free-spirited woman living in an old house. Her attitude toward life seems to attract a kind of chaos, and she is forced to live in time out of joint, as consequences are occurring before the initial act. There is some gap in logic with Michael Kube-McDowell's script, but thanks to Strasberg and a somewhat disturbing finish it turns out to be negligible.

Marie Windsor in "A New Lease on Life" (2.15). Veteran Windsor is Madame Angler, the landlady operating the comfortable yet economical big city St. George Apartments. It's a good episode with a good cast, but Windsor manages nonetheless to steal the show.

Margaret Whitton in "Mary, Mary" (4.2). This is an episode with a generally mixed response. It's a little silly and potentially disastrous, but with sympathetic direction and a wonderful performance by Whitton as the very average and lonely Mary Jones, who is using a mannequin to film her dating videos. Whitton is so good that her averageness becomes quite attractive, helped by her natural charm. Among the single character performances in Darkside, where a single actor or actress must carry the entire show, this one is truly among the best thanks to Whitton.

Eileen Eckhart in "Do Not Open This Box" (4.15). Another veteran actress, Eckhart is marvellous as crusty and unhappy Rose Pennywell. In fact, she is so good as the loathsome character that I found myself sympathising with her. The great, cluttered set and good direction by Jodie Foster help make a good episode, while Eckhart only makes it great.

Kim Greist in "Going Native" (4.17). As the cold, otherworld visitor, Kim Greist is icy yet attractive. And as the narrator of the episode her delivery is excellent. Add to this a great outburst at the end and Greist manages to do well in various levels of acting.

As a final note on acting, only two people from Darkside have received acting nominations, both in 1987 for season two, and both for Young Artists Award. Scooter Stevens received a nomination for his role as the boy in "The Last Car" (2.19), while Tanya Fenmore was recognized for her part as Mary Jane in "The Trouble with Mary Jane" (2.9). Stevens did well while Fenmore was really quite good in an otherwise weak episode.

Coming soon... or eventually... The Worst of Tales from the Darkside.

Jason Brannon, The Winds of Change (2006)

2011-12-18T01:26:00.000-05:00

Brannon, Jason, The Winds of Change, Nocturnre Press, 2006.
Reprinted as an ebook, Permuted Press, 2011.

A neat premise and a few promising details are all that that this short novel has to offer. A group of people are trapped inside a hardware store while the people outside are mysteriously transforming into piles of salt. Characters speculate as to what is causing the strange apocalypse, with chemical agents of terrorism or God's judgement being the prime suspects. The main problems with the story are weak writing, poor characterization, inattention to detail, wholly absent atmosphere and wasted plot opportunities. (Pretty much everything other than its premise.)

I love stories of small groups of people trapped in a small space with unusual and deadly activities going on outside. The first work that came to mind when seeing the premise for The Winds of Change is Stephen King's well-written novella "The Mist" (1980, arguably his best work), but of course there are numerous others, such as David A. Riley's short story "Lock-In" (2006, reviewed here), and various films from Romero's zombie trilogy to John Carpenter's excellent films "Assault on Precinct 13" (1976) and "The Thing" (1982). While many of these stories share similar plot points and unavoidable details, such as issues facing food, what makes each story work is essentially their focus on character, a focus completely lacking in The Winds of Change.

We have a dozen people who spend most of their time bantering and hypothesizing between two points. The characters are bland, flat, and they all sound alike. The first thing Brannon should have considered is using a third person narrator. The first person narration does not work, as the character is an everyday faceless figure, a non-character really, who is completely unreliable as a leader (or leader wannabe). I don't care if the main character of such a story is heroic or a hard-case, but he needs to be something, and this guy is irritatingly not a thing. For one thing, he spends so much time wondering what has caused this phenomenon rather than trying to figure out what to do, and thereby leaving the reader to wonder for him or herself. That is called suspense. Bantering between points is called a headache. The narrator of such a story needs to act and not just observe; the readers are the observers, the ones incapable of changing the course of the story. Or of the winds, of you prefer.

The detail lacking is very simply in the location. Place an important aspect of such closed-in stories and the reader needs to be able to see the hardware store so clearly that it almost becomes the thirteenth character. Yet we see nothing, and I can't even tell if this is a massive hardware store you might find just off the highway, or a tiny place just around the corner where you head to when you're out of light bulbs or when you need a screw. (Not that kind.) Three employees makes me think it's a fairly small place, but there's a generator and a skylight and they sell blowtorches... I was expecting someone to fall into a swimming pool or say, "Hey, why don't we all climb into that chopper!" But I digress.

And then there's... I'm gonna stop here. Though those two sudden deaths near the end bothered me. It was though the author thought he couldn't leave so many characters alive, so why don't I casually knock off a couple right here as an aside and see if anyone notices.

Briefly: John Buchan, The Thirty-Nine Steps (1915)

2011-12-07T09:55:00.001-05:00

Buchan, John, The Thirty-Nine Steps, Blackwood's Magazine, August & September, 1915.
____, The Thirty-Nine Steps, London: William Blackwood & Sons, October 1915.

The Thiry-Nine Steps at Goodreads.

John Buchan's short novel, written while he was laid up, suffering from something called a duodenal ulcer, is an improbable spy thriller chase story. At times comical with the occasional moment of suspense, the spy thriller genre has advanced to all lengths of complexity that The Thirty-Nine Steps feels incredibly tame and occasionally silly. Thankfully it is short. What saves the novel from being more than a pulpy joke is the solid writing and the charming narrator. My favourite sequence is the opening, where our Scottish hero Richard Hannay (Buchan too was a Scot) is describing his incredible boredom. He sees a homeless man yawning and gives him some change in an act of pure empathy.

The amount of coincidence and luck that the story relies on is, by modern standards, not just unbelievable but, sadly, a little irritating. Hiding in the moorlands Hannay happens to meet someone he knows. He happens to stumble upon the hooded owl's lair, happens to find explosives when convenient, happens to walk into a Sir Walter's house in time to see one of the bad guys in disguise, and so on and so forth. Nearly every plot element relies heavily in such unlikely fortunes, that a modern reader will soon grow weary of the tale and wary of its author. Despite these shortcomings, and if you can manage to swallow the coincidences, as a quick, charming read, it manages to be good fun.

L. A. Pittenger (editor), A Collection of Short-Stories (1913)

2011-11-29T12:04:00.000-05:00

Pittenger, L. A., A Collection of Short Stories: Macmillan's Pocket American and English Classics, NY: Macmillan, 12 November 1913. xxi+268. $0.25

For Pittenger's introductory material, please look here.

"The Father" by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson. (1860, translated by Rasmus B. Anderson) 7/10

Over the course of his life, a local peasant visits the parish priest on behalf of his son, for the boy's birth, confirmation and engagement. The boy brings his father joy and success, yet the priest hopes he will someday bring him "a true blessing." Nobel laureate Bjørnson was a nationalist Norwegian who believed in the notion that the needs of the community must supersede those of the self. This idea is clearly presented in the story, and fulfills editor Pittenger's idea that the nineteenth century modern short story contains some element of morality. "The Father" is steeped with moral code.

The story itself is sketch-like, minimalist in its lack of description and in its use of simple, straightforward language. Unlike the modernist minimalists, Bjørnson is not trying here to impress the reader, but is so conscious of his message that he wishes not to distract from it. The technique makes for an effective and thought-provoking story. At the same time, as opposed to naturalists such as Guy de Maupassant, whose "A Piece of String" is included in the anthology, the lack of a descriptive setting gives the story a surreal quality, as though it were a kind of fable. This can be appropriate, for fables are the epitome of morality tales, only they are far removed from modern notions of realism as they utilize talking animals and inanimate objects.

"The Griffin and the Minor Canon" by Frank Stockton. (St. Nicholas Magazine, October 1885) 8/10

A lonely Griffin, the last of its race, hears that a small town bears a statue of his likeness and decides to leave his home in the distant, wild land to visit the world of humans. The townsfolk are not too keen when they see the creature alight, and hide away in terror. The only man among them brave enough to face such a threat is the humble Minor Canon. The Minor Canon does the town's bidding, setting out to convince the Griffin to leave, yet rather than drive the Griffin away, he leads him to the sculpture. Soon the monster takes a liking to the Minor Canon and follows him about town, much to the dismay of the community, who want only to be rid of the creature for they fear he will eat their children.

A great adult fairy tale and social satire along the lines of Oscar Wilde. The characters are merely archetypes rather than realistic people (yes, even the Griffin) as Stockton is aiming to amuse and criticize rather than to paint a portrait of rural life. Indeed, characterization and town details would merely distract from the point of the narrative, and Stockton does well in focusing on the humour, lumping the townsfolk into almost a single entity, and giving us a sensitive, average and easily likable Minor Canon to sympathize with. Details such as the Minor Canon's trek to the Griffin's home is seemingly shorter than the Griffin's flight to the town do not distract as the story is clearly fantasy, and in a fantastic world the unusual is easily accepted as the norm.

"The Piece of String" by Guy de Maupassant. ("La Ficelle," no translator named. Original publication details unknown, ca. 1884) 8/10

Walking through the village on market day, thrifty peasant Master Hauchecorne picks up a piece of string from the muddy road. When he notices that the harness-maker, Master Malandain, has seen him, he is gripped with a feeling of shame at having been seen picking up such a trifle. He pretends he has lost something and searches the ground before hurrying off. That evening it is announced that someone lost a wallet containing a considerable sum, and Malandain steps forward to recount Hauchecorne's awkward scene. Despite showing off the string, the entire village believes Hauchecorne is guilty of finding and keeping the wallet, and he does his best to clear his name by telling his tale to anyone who would care to listen.

"The Piece of String" has always been one of my favourite Maupassant stories. Though short and succinct, it is unlike the minimalism of Bjørnson's "The Father." Maupassant takes the time to paint a vivid portrait of the community and its people, a common practice of his. Here the scene is described at the start, allowing him to focus on the events once the setting has been set. His attention to setting and character details, such as Hauchecorne's rheumatism, work well in the story, giving it that flair of naturalism Maupassant was striving to achieve. There are no distractions in "The Piece of String" as there are in some of his other naturalist pieces; the economy here is terrific.

Technical artistry aside, what works well in the simpleness of this story is its focus on community and hypocrisy, bringing to light the story's inherent existential elements. A man's reputation for shrewdness leads to a community's ability to establish his guilt. Of course there is also malicious intentions with Malandain's accusation (in French mal means bad or evil, and his name sounds like mal-en-main, evil-in-hand).

"The Man Who Was" by Rudyard Kipling. (Macmillan’s Magazine, April 1890; Harper’s Weekly, 15 April 1890) 5/10

At the officers' mess hall a cavalry regiment is entertaining a Russian correspondent, Dirkovitch, when a man stumbles in, barely alive. Initially believing that the man is a weapons thief, the officers soon discover that he is English. I've never cared for Kipling's work, aside perhaps from "The Phantom 'Rickshaw"(1885) and "At the End of the Passage" (1890). His obsession with British imperialism bores me, and his plots are too contrived, filled with coincidences and far-fetched occurrences, and his characters are flat. The good guys are just too good, and the bad cannot be more awful. These elements are alive in "The Man Who Was," and though it's not a terrible story, as stories go, it is a solid average.

"The Fall of the House of Usher" by Edgar Allan Poe. (Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, September 1839) 8/10

It's difficult to make a few brief remarks on Poe, particularly on something like "Usher," one of his most influential stories. Luckily there are many fine essays available, and various interpretations in film and fiction (I highly recommend Robert Bloch's short story "The Man Who Collected Poe," 1951). I have always admired Poe, his unique and ageless style, his original ideas and the incredible amount of influence he has had on both short story writing and on genre writing that became so popular in the twentieth century. If you have not read the story I would urge you to do so, and e-texts can easily be located on various sites. (While you're at it, read "The Cask of Amontillado" (1846) and "The Tell-Tale Heart" (1843). Actually, just read 'em all.)

In "The Fall of the House of Usher," the narrator visits his old school friend Roderick Usher who has sent him an urging invitation. The narrator arrives at a gloomy old house in a gloomy region by a sickly tarn, and discovers that his old friend is unwell. It turns out that the man and his sister Madeline are both unwell. They are the last of their generation, and live in a house and an area of long and dark repute, which have seemingly intense effects on their nerves. Unlike Bjørnson and later minimalists, Poe carefully details the stories setting, and though he emphasizes the need for economy in short story writing, his details are quite necessary to generate the story's final impact. The characters here are highly influenced by the house, so much so that the house of Usher is the story's fourth character (excluding the brief appearances of the physician and valet). Poe's purpose here, and in many of his stories, is the effect of the environment on one's nerves. He wasn't interested in fear, and there was very little of the supernatural in his tales, but rather he focused on the nervous potential of body and mind, the incredible delusions that one can suffer when giving in to these nerves, and the inability of the rational mind, often the first-person narrator, to guide the nervous individual towards health and well-being. The nerves are commanding human factors, and the environment, indeed the world, a terrible influence.

"The Gold-Bug" by Edgar Allan Poe. (Dollar Newspaper, 21 & 28 June 1843) 7/10

This is an odd little story by Poe. Not that the story itself is odd, but that for Poe it's unusual. The rational archetypal Poe narrator pays a visit to his friend William Legrand at Sullivan's Island in South Carolina (Poe was stationed nearby, and the community even named one of its streets Gold Bug Drive). Legrand has come across a gold beetle and seems to have grown utterly obsessed with it, forcing his attendant Jupiter to perform some unusual tasks. The narrator humours him, partly for his own curiously, yet as they head off on an expedition Legrand is determined to undertake, there appears to be reason for his odd behaviour, and slowly the reader is, for once, questioning the logical, reasoning narrator.

"The Gold-Bug" is more akin to Poe's mysteries, such as "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" (1841), "The Mystery of Marie Rogêt" (1842) and "The Purloined Letter" (1844) , than to his tales of the macabre. The convention is different as well, and it's nice to see that Poe seemed aware of his standard structure, enough to be able to play with it. The rational narrator's suspicions turn out to be mere paranoia, as there is method to Legrand's madness. Throw in some neat (though basic) cryptography and a good puzzle involving a human skull, and we have a good detective and semi-adventure story.

In this day and age there are some unintentionally amusing bits involving Legrand's "negro" attendant Jupiter. It is 1843 USA, so the character, though written sympathetically, maintains the stereotypes prevalent for the era. Poe tries to imbue the character with humour, but unfortunately the humour is a little dated, and we end up chuckling more at the early portrayal rather than at the intended jokes.

"The Birthmark" by Nathaniel Hawthorne. (The Pioneer, March 1843) 7/10

Clever scientist Aylmer is growing increasingly repulsed by his beautiful wife Georgiana's birthmark; the shape of a small, angelic hand on her cheek. He grows so obsessed with this mark that he begins to view it as a blemish against nature's perfectionism, and is determined to rid her of this flaw. Under his influence, his faithful and obedient wife grows to detest her own birthmark, and leaves its fate in the hands of her husband. Even when reading his scientific notes, learning that his lofty and idealistic approaches to science often end in failure in the laboratory, she nonetheless trusts his skill.

This tragedy can only end in one way, and despite the story's predictability, its construction, well-focused narrative is mesmerizing. Hawthorne truly practiced what Poe called the singleness of effect, and all the little details are aimed toward his ideas of nature versus science. As Aylmer is showing Georgiana what he has been able to accomplish in his laboratory, he is a magician working tricks, and even then we can see the imperfections of his accomplishments. He refers to his servant as "though made of clay," as if Aylmer himself is Prometheus, a kind of demi-god with the ability to affect the destiny of humankind. He is also likened to Pygmalion, the King of Cyprus who falls in love with an artificial form of beauty, admiring it so much that it comes to life. "The Birthmark" is an entirely rich text, with a healthy dose of the moral that Pittenger requires of the short story.

"Ethan Brand" by Nathaniel Hawthorne. (Boston Weekly Museum, 5 January 1850) 5/10

Former lime-burmer Ethan Brand returns to his community following a twenty-year search for the Unpardonable Sin. The story of Ethan Brand was originally intended to be the final portion of a novel, which Hawthorne evidently had a difficult time composing. The story as we have it is interesting, but doesn't quite work as a short story. The interesting aspects include the contrast between the great sinner Ethan Brand, and the community members who have essentially withered away over the decades that Brand was on his search. Though Brand is deemed a terrible sinner and devil conjurer, the community members are hypocritical and judgemental imbibers of a black liquid. "Ethan Brand" contains melodrama worthy of a novel, seemingly misplaced here (in fact something of the sort worthy of Thomas Hardy). The exposition and flatness of the characters dull the text, despite the intriguing premise and promising intentions. Not among Hawthorne's best accomplished pieces. Oddly selected by Pittenger, there are plenty well constructed Hawthorne short stories to choose from.

"The Sire de Malétroit's Door" by Robert Louis Stevenson. (Temple Bar, January 1878) 7/10

In September 1429, during the latter chapter of the brutal Hundred Years' War, twenty-two year-old Denis de Beaulieu loses his way back to his inn and inadvertently stumbles through the Sire de Malétroit's door, only to be met expectantly by the mysterious old man. The mystery of the situation soon reveals itself, as the young man is given the choice of either marrying the Sire's niece, or being hanged by the neck. This is an odd tale in that it's not quite adventure and not quite mystery, but hearkening back to the dark period of the fifteenth century, Stevenson has expertly created a short romance that would have worked well as a brief episode in any of the popular medieval texts of the day, epics such as Guillaume de Lorris's The Romance of the Rose (ca. 1275) or Sir Thomas Malory's Le Mort d'Arthur (1485). The story and its protagonist rely on the arms of chivalry and honour, and though the heroine is at first repulsed by our hero, it is through his valour and noble conduct that she grows to care for him.

I admire Stevenson's precision in language, his sentences less ornate than those of his contemporaries, and yet because of their absolute precision and simple-seeming sentences, they can be all the more complex. Even young Denis's noble speeches are toned down, so that while maintaining their sense of medieval honour, his words manage to garner greater impact. His characters are always well delineated, and the setting, while as important as it was for Poe, is presented with less words and yet just as vivid.

This story is somewhat playful. Not as serious as "Markheim," there is both an homage and an underlying humour with respect to its origins. Nothing as magical or alarming occurs as it did with both de Lorris and Malory, yet the notions of honour and chivalry are well maintained, while the characters, simply drawn, are direct descendants of the noble protagonists from the earlier epics. It is a medieval epic related with the rationalism of the Victorian era. The story is an absolute pleasure to (re)read, and I enjoy it more and more with each encounter.

"Markheim" by Robert Louis Stevenson. (Pall Mall Gazette, December 1884) 7/10

Thirty-six year-old down-on-his-luck Markheim finds himself on Christmas day at the pawn shop claiming for once he has nothing to sell but is present in order to make a purchase. Suddenly and explosively, Markheim attacks the shop owner and stabs him to death. Overwhelmed by his heightened nerves, Markheim sets out to find the keys to the store's safe, and encounters a strange figure, the devil he assumes, who offers Markheim some help. Herein a discussion on the nature of evil ensues, with the figure arguing that Markheim is destined to fall, while our hero maintains that at heart he is good, and his crimes are a matter of cicumstance.

Another excellent story by the versatile Stevenson, with elements of his masterpiece Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, published two years later. The story works well as a fantasy, and yet it is more akin to psychological drama, since I read the piece as the mysterious figure being not the devil, but a figment of Markheim's overwrought imagination. Stevenson spends many words detailing the intense bombardment that the man's nerves receive by the constant din around him, the shop's multitudinous clocks, the footsteps outside and the onslaught of pelting rain. Moreover his vision is tricked by the various shadows he sees and imagines all around him. Suddenly the figure appears, when Markheim's nerves have already suffered incredible onslaught, so that the creature is merely an apparition from his guilt-ridden mind. Like Jekyll, Markheim experiences a separation of his personality, and he is himself trying to determine his eventual fate, weighing the balance between his essentially good nature and his clearly deplorable acts.

Like the previous story, "Markheim" is structured primarily around two sets of dialogue. In "The Sire de Malétroit's Door," we have Denis with the Sire followed by Denis with the Sire's niece, and a brief threesome in between. Here we have Markheim and the dealer and Markeim and his conscience (or the devil, if you prefer). In between we have Markeim trying to control his nerves. The three portions of this story are finely written, the excellent dialogue with the dealer, during which we are given numerous glimpses as to Markheim's emotional turmoil, from his comments on the mirror to the transformations in his expression. The middle section is truly a treat, particularly the wonderful description of the many clocks: "Time had some score of small voices in that shop, some stately and slow as was becoming to their great age, others garrulous and hurried. All these told out the seconds in an intricate chorus of tickings."

A great example of the economical modern short story, its singular effect, and useful in Pittenger's ideas of morality within the framework.

Incidentally, the anthology series Screen Directors' Playhouse adapted "Markheim" with the fine actors Ray Milland and Rod Steiger as Markheim and the visitor respectively, directed by Fred Zienneman. The episode aired on 11 April 1956.

The Short Story: L. A. Pittenger

2011-11-23T15:34:00.001-05:00

(This is part of an ongoing examination on the evolution of the short story. I am reading a number of essays on the modern short story dating back to its origins. I've decided to post some observations and notes as I conduct my study.)

For an analysis of the short stories themselves, please look here.

Pittenger, L. A., A Collection of Short Stories: Macmillan's Pocket American and English Classics, NY: Macmillan, 12 November 1913. xxi+268. $0.25

Note: I read this essay in an electronic format, hence have no page references.

Among the multitude number of anthologies prepared for the purpose of studying the short story in a classroom setting, is the once popular collection edited by Lemuel Arthur Pittenger (27 September 1873 - 15 July 1953), head of the English Department at Ohio Normal School at Kent (later Kent University). In his oft-printed anthology A Collection of Short-Stories: Macmillan's Pocket American and English Classics, reprinted in 2009 by Dodo Press as Short-Stories, Pittenger includes a lengthy introduction on the aspects of the short story, including a history and discussion on how students should go about writing their own stories. I am primarily interested in his view in a historical context.

Many early discussions on the young art form, the modern short story, explain why shorter fiction prior to the appearance of Hawthorne and Poe are not considered "short stories." While the stories may be short and are certainly stories, their approach is not as succinct and focused, lacking in economy and often running the length of a novella, their construction and freedom resembling that of a novel. While the novel (or modern novel) was also a young art form, the eighteenth century had already produced enough novels for the western world to be familiar with the form, and for writers to take the form through various levels of experimentation. While writers of the nineteenth century were busy perfecting the novel, the short story was only then developing, and luckily for the more talented practitioners, there were enough publications paying handsomely for these tales.

In his introduction, Pittenger likens the development of the nineteenth century modern short story not to earlier works of shorter fiction, but to the recent developments in the essay as well as the sketches that were popular at the time. As an example of the essay he uses Voltaire's desire in getting his political points across trumping his ambition in story-telling, and hence he gave grater attention and care to the technical aspects of writing. This is an absolutely valid point, and along with the growth of socio-political concerns in nineteenth century Europe, in which many writers took notice and embedded in their art (think Oliver Twist as a prime example), the art of writing developed into something more academic, less flighty and comical. As ideas became important focuses, care-free episodic structures were quickly being replaced by tightly-knit plot-lines. (Simultaneously, while the age of reason brought advances to prose, the more subjective form of poetry suffered under its influences.) The development of modern psychology also added an important element, as characters were becoming less generic. Overall, the definition of the modern short story can be boiled down to Edgar Allan Poe's observations on unity and singleness of effect, which he set down to eight rules of short-story writing.

In his essay, Pittenger claims that the short story has become a "most flexible and moral literary form." Issues of moral examinations can certainly be seen throughout the history of the short story, modern or contemporary with all the various phases and genres in between, particularly when dealing with the mainstream. Of course, with the constant shift in ideals and in the greater variety of literary expression and forms of experimentation, short stories can often be about the practice of writing rather than the story's own content, whether plot or theme. If we are to document the shifts in short story writing (or any form of art), the moral aspect is one that has developed a more ambiguous paradigm and receives less emphasis than it did a century ago. I am not completely agreeing with Pittenger on his emphasis of the moral in the nineteenth century short story, since many stories are focused more on their plot or form, and moral is almost incidental. For instance, one of Poe's stories selected for Pittenger's anthology, "The Gold-Bug" (1843), is essentially a deductive mystery and semi-adventure with hints of comedy. Of course we can read a moral or two into the narrative, but Poe was not interested in developing any kind or overseeing moral element across the narrative. Poe was an early innovator, less interested in ideas of morality. Perhaps Pittenger was led to the notion of the prevalence of a moral since he linked the short story so closely to the evolution of the essay.

Pittenger goes on to discuss the founding fathers of the modern short story, and there is no great insight here, and little to dispute. He claims that the much-beloved Washington Irving was "robbed" of the honour of being credited with creating this new form due to his habit of meandering and constructing his stories "in a leisurely manner." It is odd that Pittenger uses the word "robbed" since Irving was evidently not interested in generating the economy required for the new form, and it was his own habit of leisure and meandering writing that prevented him from achieving the honour. He was not robbed but simply failed to bring into being the modern short story as Nathaniel Hawthorne and Poe, along with European contemporaries Guy de Maupassant and Robert Louis Stevenson had.

"[T]he short-story must be original and varied in its themes, cleverly constructed, and lighted through and through with the glow of vivid imaginings." What an oddly subjective comment. Who is to determine what variety in theme can be, particularly since many critics have narrowed the thematic possibles down to a few, decisive statements? For example, all stories are about either man versus nature, man versus technology, or man versus self. Moreover, before even deciding whether the theme/themes of a story is/are varied, one must decide what the specific themes to any given story are. Whose to say that "The Gold-Bug" is about man vs. anything, and how varied and original that particular moral or them might be? Finally, who can claim that stories should contain original themes; are we never again to write a masterful story about one common, overdone idea? Perhaps I am acting merely as a revisionist. Since Pittenger, the short story has touched upon so many forms that approaches themselves have gained wider breadth and the potentials were not yet known. I don't think this is the case, however, since by 1913 (the published date of Pittenger's essay) the world was exposed to a number of different styles of short story writing, from Nikolai Gogol to Zsigmond Móricz.

"The aim of the short-story is always to present a cross-section of life in such a vivid manner that the importance of the incident becomes universal." I do agree with this point, and believe it is as true for the nineteenth century story as it is for the contemporary mainstream and experimental story. The short story is removed from the memoir and personal anecdote, and hence should be made accessible (no matter how experimental) to a wider audience. Many experiences are of course generally shared, no matter how individual or personal they seem, and a single, specific story should at least attempt to bridge these experiences across persons, generations, locations and so forth, and to stir the emotions and thoughts of as many as possible.

The rest of Pittenger's essay deals with the construction of the short story, is highly elementary, and is geared toward the high school student and the student's need to practice the form. According to Pittenger, Boys and girls should invariably be taught to see stories in the life about them."

So boys and girls, keep your eyes open, check your morals and universalize your experiences, so long as your morals are original and varied. (Maybe I'm old-fashioned but mine are quite generic.)

Shock Totem #2: Curious Tales of the Macabre and Twisted, 2010

2011-11-17T13:02:00.002-05:00

Shock Totem 2: Curious Tales of the Macabre and Twisted, edited by K. Allen Wood, Shock Totem Publications, 2010. 82 pages

For my review of Shock Totem 1, please visit here.
Shock Totem's website can be accessed here.

Issue two of Shock Totem appeared a year following the impressive first issue. At eighty-two pages the book is slim, attractive and promising. I often prefer shorter periodicals as the lengthier issues seem to be stuffed with filler material, and with a total of fifty-seven pages of fiction, I opened the glossy cover waiting for a wallop of prose. Yet pages can be deceiving, and this slim publication contains nearly as many words as a hundred pager, but its small print and narrow margins conserves paper, and the nine stories, one article, introduction and end-notes, along with some review pages and an interview (with James Newman) are economical at $5.99 from the publisher's website.

Now, the first thing I'm naturally itching to do is compare issue two with the first, solid launch. Both are attractive, sporting great, easy on the eye cover art (by Hicham Haddaji), nice glassy binding and good quality paper. Internal improvements include better font which makes for easier reading, though the interior artwork is a little unclear and hence I pretty much ignored it. Content-wise the stories here are not as consistently strong as they were in issue one, though the concepts are more interesting. Darker-themed and modern ideas work well with the good mixture of dark fiction, brushes with postmodernism and much welcomed moments of absurdity and surrealism. The problem is that while there are a couple of really strong stories ("The Rat Burner," "Sweepers," "The Rainbow Serpent"), there are also a couple of obviously weaker ones which makes me think it was for the best that the editors waited a year to release issue two. Many of the stories don't quite work because their good ideas are not fully developed ("Pretty Little Ghouls," "Leave Me the Way I Was Found"), and the abundance of flash fiction is an unfortunate let-down.

At the same time it's great that the editors weren't daunted by tweaking the journal's overall content, and are offering us something different, as though we were reading independent anthologies rather than two volumes of the same periodical. Shock Totem deserves an audience and I recommend the purchase.

"The Rat Burner" by Ricardo Bare. 7/10

A young man sharing a run-down room with a prostitute earns a living as a "guide," taking people into the rat-infested alleys toward a black door that promises... something. Yet the guide knows that those willing to pass through the doors are set for a horrible journey. A good story, well written, with a nicely delineated rodent-filled neighbourhood. The characters, though not closely developed, work quite well, and I did sympathize with the leads. There is the occasional melodrama that is slightly distracting, particularly since most of the prose is straightforward. No explanation of what's lurking behind the black door is needed, so when it came I was a little disappointed. Minor comments on an otherwise strong opening story.

"Sole Survivor" by Kurt Newton. 5/10

Editor & publisher K. Allen Wood promises that Newton's stories in the first two issues will be the only back-to-back issues that will feature a story by the same author. Too early for a such a promise, as though he has done something wrong to allow an author to return. Personally I don't mind, so long as the story itself is worthy of inclusion. Wood selected well by going with "Thirty-Two Scenes from a Dead Hooker's Mouth" in Shock Totem 1, a far better story. "Sole Survivor" is a piece of flash, amusing I suppose (for those who like flash), about the eventual evolution of "reality television." Not too original and not too satisfying.

"Sweepers" by Leslianne Wilder. 7/10

Leslianne Wilder's first published story is flash-like in that it's short, yet it's thankfully long enough to avoid the trappings of flash, such as flat characters and a scenario that relies to heavily on a punchy ending. "Sweepers" is told through the point of view of a man trapped with others at the top of a metropolitan skyscraper while the world below is engulfed in a sort of biblical flood. The narrative progresses as the water continues to rise. A good story, though a little a little over-written near the end for my tastes. Nonetheless the writing is effective and the apocalyptic scene is well rendered; a nice change from those trendy apocalyptic zombies. Water is far creepier than the walking dead, especially since you can't thwart it with a shovel or a shot to the head.

"The Rainbow Serpent" by Vincent Pendergrast. 7/10

Gavin's girlfriend has recently left him and he's having a hard time coping. On his way single-mindedly to Wollongong with a gun in his jacket, the bus ride seems lengthy and a little unusual, the passengers overly friendly and the driver playing on a harmonica. The scenario is interspersed with brief segments of the Rainbow Serpent, an ancient creature learning to survive in a world overcrowded by humans. A strangely compelling read, I really enjoyed its oddities. The surreal quality grows, mixed well with Gavin's very real, unjustified anger toward his former girlfriend. Rather than a Lovecraftian form of ancient horror, the creature in "The Rainbow Serpent" is a reflection of our darker selves.

"Pretty Little Ghouls" by Cate Gardner. 5/10

Another flash story, serious in tone. A young woman is waiting to be executed. She is a danger to every living thing, since her touch brings instant death. Great idea and well written, but there just wasn't enough here for me to either fear or sympathize with our mutant.

"Messages from Valerie Polichar" by Grá Linnaea and Sarah Dunn. 6/10

A hot topic of fairly casual discussion has been the eventual fate of personal information on the internet once the current generation passes on. Who will monitor the billions of bits of info of an entire online society once that population has died off? In this piece an obsessive and superfluous woman gets so overcome with anxiety relating to this idea that her existence is focused around it. It's a tricky story since it its lethargic tone and atmosphere (works appropriately well, but threatens to disappoint since the protagonist is so unsympathetic. Needlessly self-absorbed, I didn't care for her silly anxieties, yet at the same time this obsessiveness with the irrelevant is a sad modern reality. Our "hero" is not wondering philosophically about fate or the value of one's existence, but instead develops a paranoid belief that some deep-seeded message can be found in the online ghosts of the dead. I sympathised for her husband, though he does lack a backbone.

Incidentally, in the end-notes the authors mention that Valerie Polichar is a real person, the editor of The Grasslimb Journal (San Diego), and they liken the story to Charlie Kaufman's blend of reality fantasy.

"Return from Dust" by Nick D. Bronson. 4/10

A soldier is killed in battle and awakens as a monstrous, unfeeling cyborg. My problem with this story was essentially that it was written in the first person. The tone throughout is cold and, well, cyborg-like, which makes sense, but the detached reading of the battle at the opening left me detached from the narrative. Moreover, a machine that recalls with detail its previous human emotion and is nonetheless so removed from that self that it can recall these details without any form of grieving, sense of loss, detachment, or any other natural connection. I couldn't even figure out its instinct to kill. Is that due to its detachment? But if so detached, why focus on the previous life with so much respectful attention to detail. Why even narrate the story if its intention is march forward with destructive force?

"Leave Me the Way I was Found" by Christian A. Dumais. 6/10

According to the author's story notes at the end of the issue, this one is a work of euphiction: "when you take a song, use the song title or a song lyric as the title of your story, and then create a fictional "cover" in less than a thousand words." I suppose euphiction is sub-genre of the short story sub-genre known as flash fiction. I'm glad the title is explained, though I'm not familiar with the song and the title does not highlight any aspect of the story for me. The story is about a two-minute, sixteen second video someone uploaded to YouTube, a video which quickly spread across the internet and causes all sorts of horrific mental disruptions in the brain. The idea is certainly not a new one (see John Carpenter's In the Mouth of Madness with a series of books, and his Cigarette Burns about a snuff film), however I do like the implied notion that a computer "virus" can re-write human brain patters, or programs if you will. Who says viruses can't spread across species? Pretty neat fiction, though it would be interesting to see the idea developed into an actual story.

"Upon My Return" by David Jack Bell. 4/10

Primarily made up of dialogue, a carnival manager is telling a police detective the unusual events surrounding the Miracle Worker act. The Miracle Worker is one Jesse Abrams (you know, like Jesus & Abraham) who has the ability to perform unusual illusions, such as, you know, turning water into wine. (I wonder why no one thought of throwing him a fish.) The weakest story in the collection, I found the dialogue to be unnatural, especially since an uneducated older carny speaks with grammatical fluidity and accuracy (excluding a few was/were slips) and in a seemingly unaffected tone. The irony here is obvious and when we learn of the horrible, frightening thing our fella Jesse Abrams has done to bring in the police, it is essentially underwhelming and I am left to think that these small town investigators have so little to do that they'd follow up on such unimpressive events.

And finally for the nonfiction, briefly. I appreciate the introduction and authors' end-notes (nicely titled "Howling through the Keyhole"), which to me are like a direct, though one-sided conversation between writer and reader. I appreciate story notes both as a writer and a reader as they can shed light or add some additional dimension to the work, sort of like those extras popular on DVDs. I merely skimmed the reviews, some of which appeared rushed, a little too informal for my taste, and sometimes more about the reviewer than the subject, though the overview on the series Fear Itself was informative; I caught three episodes and do, in my interest in genre anthologies, plan to view and review.

Finally there is a personal essay by Mercedes M. Yardley, whose short story "Murder for Beginners" appeared in Shock Totem #1. The essay, titled "Abominations: Hide the Sickness," deals with Yardley's own experiences working in a sexual deviancy ward. I'm a little wary of essays in periodicals as they tend to disappoint, but I found this one utterly compelling, though I would have preferred more organization and a slower, more informative pace. This is simply because I had so many questions, and honestly would have opted to read a lengthier version of the essay over the reviews. Hopefully Ms. Yardley has something along those lines in the works.

Bookshops: The Wee Books Inn, Edmonton

2011-11-13T11:18:00.008-05:00

[Please see here for my review of Nick Hornby's Slam (2007).]

Shortly after finishing Nick Hornby's Slam, I found myself in Edmonton, and is my nature, I spent my free time seeking out second-hand bookshops. I've visited shops all around the world, and recently even found a Hitchcock paperback (a first printing no less) in a tiny and messy little shop in Istanbul.

The Wee Books Inn has four locations in Edmonton, and I wandered out of the wind into the shop at 10310, 82nd (Whyte) Avenue. The store was large and clean, fairly empty though it was a weekday mid-afternoon. Taking a few minutes to walk around and get the layout of the shop, I soon headed upstairs to browse through the literature section, the vintage children's book shelves (which had numerous copies of The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew and diverse hardcover collections), and the horror paperback racks where I picked up three anthologies. At the cash I pulled out my copy of Slam and asked the tall and gangly employee if he'd be interested in a trade. He looked at the back of the book (where the original cover price is located) and let me have a $2.50 book in its place. I was pleased, wanting to get rid of Slam and thinking he'd give me about a dollar. Granted my copy of Hornsby's middling work was in excellent condition, and the anthology I received was considerably older. He'll probably sell my book for at least $5.00, for which I'm glad since I like to support these shops.

Next time in Edmonton I'll be sure to bring a few more books.

The books I purchased were:

Parry, Michel, The Devil's Children, NY: Berkley Medallion, September 1976 (1974). ($2.50)
Paget, Clarence, The 27th Pan Book of Horror Stories, London: Pan Books, 1986. ($2.50)
Sutton, David and Stephen Jones, Dark Voices 4: The Pan Book of Horror, London: Pan Books, 1992. ($3.50)

My only complaint about The Wee Books Inn is their practice of stamping the inside front covers of their books with their locations. I understand the need to advertise but I much prefer picking up bookmarks rather than seeing books unnecessarily damaged. In Boston last year I visited one of Annie's Bookshops and was appalled that a number of the paperbacks, everything being sold for a dollar, had their back covers lopped off at one corner. I asked the vendor why he cut these chunks out of the corners, and he said so that he could keep track of which ones he was selling for cheap. Now, a vendor should be experienced enough with books to simply glance at one and know whether it should go for a buck or half the cover price. I was upset, even felt a little sick since there were a number of out-of-print books I would have loved to pick up for a dollar. I detest damaged books and did not purchase any. Running a business where you need to be constantly reminded of the value of your stock by devaluating them is ridiculous, and I will not be visiting this shop again.

Aside: On Hiatus... No Longer

2011-11-11T10:34:00.001-05:00

Two months, three continents, five countries and over a dozen cities.

It's great to be back home :)

Briefly: Thomas Perry, The Butcher's Boy (1982)

2011-11-11T10:07:00.004-05:00

Perry, Thomas, The Butcher's Boy, New York, Scribner, 1982 (first edition, cover below)
__________, The Butcher's Boy, reprinted with an introduction by Michael Connelly, New York, Random House, 2003. 313 pages (my edition, cover right)

The Butcher's Boy at Goodreads
Rating: 6/10 (almost a 7 though)

Thomas Perry's first novel received the prestigious Edgar Award for Best First Novel by the Mystery Writers of America. The novel tells the overlapping narratives of a hit-man known as "The Butcher's Boy" who gets caught amid tensions of the organized crime assortment, and an intelligent and hard-working Justice Department crime analyst on her first field assignment. The Butcher's Boy is a good read, both tense and interesting. The tension is generated by a smart, nameless hit-man trying to outrun the criminals determined to find and kill him. The interesting bits come from the fact that the various judicial parties of the United States are improperly organized, work poorly together amid professional diplomacies and lack of straightforward communication, and essentially foil an investigation that our young analyst, Elizabeth Waring, works so hard to piece together. The two separate narratives work well side by side with only a few plodding moments in an otherwise well-paced thriller. I bought the plot except for one all-too convenient encounter near the end.

The problems with the novel are more social than technical. For one thing, having been written in the archaic heyday of those dark ages known as the 1980s (yes kids, the 80s are not a myth that your parents have made up just to freak you out; they really did happen). Characters spend far too much time looking for telephones, waiting to be transferred and placing messages that even a semi-Luddite such as I is now considering getting a cell phone. There is even a scene when Waring asks where the police keep their computers, as though the entire precinct shares two. (And each one probably requires an entire room and a team of technicians to operate.) Earlier novels get away with their own ancient forms of technology, but reading something fairly modern, written shortly before the computer craze, feels somehow odd. Of course I don't blame Perry or the novel for this, but rather I blame the world that we have created.

The early 1980s also suffered from self-conscious depictions of female leads. Partially left over from feminist attitudes of the 1970s, the 80s also tried to bring women into the lead in thrillers, especially with the popularity of Ellen Ripley. Horror movies, action movies and mystery books all came aboard with their female heroes, which is great, only there was a bit of awkwardness at the beginning, particularly with male authors who were self-consciously trying to create the tough and smart woman trapped in a man's world scenario. Sure Agent Waring is smart, as she is tough and (surprise!) attractive, but she does make a number of big-time mistakes and is upstaged by the even smarter, tougher (though perhaps not as attractive) butcher's boy. This is evidenced by the brief "meeting" the two have at the end, a scene which I quite enjoyed. In the earlier scenes of Waring on the field, we glimpse her thoughts as she analyses her interactions with other operatives, all male. She is a double outsider, as a woman and as an FBI agent. It doesn't help that she has so little professional authority. An interesting piece of western social history.

Briefly: Nick Hornby, Slam (2007)

2011-10-30T23:00:00.000-04:00

Hornby, Nick, Slam, London: Putnam Books, 2007. 309 pp (hardcover, below)
_________, Slam, London & New York: Penguin Books, 2008. 342 pp (my edition, paperback, right)

Look for other reviews, quite all over the place, of Slam at Goodreads.

Fans of Nick Hornby will recommend any other book of his as a launching pad to get to know the author. Indeed, High Fidelity and About a Boy seem the most popular. I ended up starting with Slam simply because I had a copy lying around that a neighbour had tossed away, and I was only half-way through when I learned that Slam is a Young Adult novel. Perhaps that says a good amount about me, needing to be told the genre of this book, or any mainstream book, but whatever the analysis I was a bit sorry to have made that discovery, since it prejudiced my reading a little. I have not jumped onto the YA bandwagon, and don't plan to write any YA material myself, and yet I am glad that there is an emphasis on YA fiction since it promotes literacy and gets people to unplug themselves from social media and be handed some form of food for thought. Personally I'm an adult reader of adult fiction, I enjoy the classics, Eastern European fiction and things on the darker side. I read horror, short stories of all genres and lesser known literature (or "general fiction") which I like to write about, and here I am, with my two university degrees, adult writing and adult reading, caught in public reading a YA novel! For shame!

(Of course I'm being sarcastic. I still remember that poor guy in a university creative writing course who, without an ounce of self-consciousness, went on an informed spiel about the progression of Stephen King's writing,. Rather than listening and, god forbid, learning something, most others in the group were busy being noticeably annoyed that the impostor's name was even mentioned. They were even more annoyed when I started asking serious questions, prolonging the lecture. Really, how dare someone interfere with the course that they are paying for in order to help provide education? I'm surprised either of us managed to graduate and make a reasonable transition to the greater part of society. )

Okay, so I sort of enjoyed Slam. Whether classified Young Adult or Geriatric, the book was somewhat enjoyable but altogether frustrating. I laughed at times and was surprised at times. Laughing and being surprised are part of a positive experience. I was also annoyed at times, even frustrated. I'm no expert on adolescent or teen psychology and won't pretend to know the latest theories on how Hornby or anyone can affect the young mind by creating such an irresponsible, self-centred teenager... Wait. Isn't the point of being a teenager to be self-centred and irresponsible? Sigh... Hornby gets away with it.

What frustrated me the most was the lack of purpose and direction. No, the book is not a warning against teen parenthood or skateboarding. (If you haven't read the novel, it's told through the point of view of a sixteen year-old skater named Sam who knocks up his gorgeous girlfriend. Yes, she's gorgeous, of course she is, as Hornby--I mean Sam (no I don't) keeps reminding us.) The lack of direction, more so than purpose, deposited a sediment of doubt for the novel's overall effect, and that doubt was proven true when, after reading each milestone Sam and Alicia must experience, I am left thinking that the scene is exactly as I'd expected it to be. Though is was consistently funny.

Sam is telling us of two years of his life, from meeting the sexy Alicia to impregnating her and becoming a father, with lots of rambling, repetition and fine humour. The humour is really the only thing that makes the book worth reading. Perhaps a young adult would enjoy it on different levels, everything the constant dropping of pop culture references to the self-deprecating humour. I must say that Hornby is sensitive to Alicia's plight, in many ways more so than to Sam's, which is great for any young male reader to grasp the point of view of the one most affected by the pregnancy.

Minor spoiler. There's something Hornby does in Slam that I truly enjoyed. At about page 100, when I was starting to wonder if the story was actually going anywhere and looking over at my shelf for something I would much rather read, Sam, while talking to his Tony Hawk poster, gets "whizzed" into the future. He awakens when his son, evidently named Roof, is a few weeks old, and must go through the day without really knowing what's going on. I liked the touch and really don't care (in fact, prefer) that no explanation is given. A great, original touch, I felt. Now, the purpose eludes me, except that at the end we get another future "whizzing" and hence a brief epilogue of Sam's post-novel life. An annoying aspect of the "whizzing" is that Sam keeps mentioning it, to the point that every time he said "...that time when I got whizzed into the future," I was ready to give the book a slam of my own.

The title refers to Slamming on your skateboard, taking a nasty fall, and how Sam slams in life by knocking up the gorgeous beautiful sexy Alicia.

Overall it is not a book I would recommend.

Douglas Clegg, The Nightmare Chronicles (1999)

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Clegg, Douglas, The Nightmare Chronicles, New York: Leisure Books, 1999. 360 pages

Overall 8/10
At Goodreads
Douglas Clegg's friendly website.

For some months now I've been wanting to read something by Douglas Clegg, having seen his paperbacks in various bookstores. I picked up this copy of The Nightmare Chronicles a few days ago in a Dubai second hand bookshop called Book World, for 16 dirhams (about 4.50 CAD). The book shop, of moderate size, is stocked full with titles, more than reasonably priced, and you can even return a book in condition and receive 50% of what you paid. Damn good idea, I think. Only problem is Book World deals mainly in bestsellers, mostly recent, so you won't find anything obscure. Also, one of the two employees continuously interrupted me by pushing books under my nose: "How about this, sir?" "You like Dan Brown, sir?" "Lots of people like this author, sir" ("this author" being Sidney Sheldon, who I've never read). The experience was becoming a nightmare chronicle of its own; I like to browse and to be left alone. Especially in a second hand book shop.

Digressions aside, I was truly impressed with this collection, and was not surprised to learn that it received the 1999 International Horror Guild Award for Best Collection, and the 1999 Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a Fiction Collection.

There is not a single story in the collection I did not like, and there are at least three that really stand out. What I like about Clegg, or at least about these stories, is that they are well written, patiently constructed, with a healthy emphasis on characterization. The thirteen stories were published between 1993 and 1999, two of which were original to the collection. The stories are framed by a narrative in which a woman named Alice (a name that is interestingly given to at least three other characters throughout the stories) and her two sons have kidnapped a boy for ransom. It turns out that this boy is not quite of this world, and has the ability to project nightmares onto his captors. The nightmares he projects are the thirteen stories. While the framing narrative is unnecessary, and not as well constructed as the stories themselves, it is still nonetheless interesting.

There are a number of themes & ideas that appear throughout the work. There is emphasis on religion, relationships and skin. Religion appears in various forms, from misled zealots to avenging angel-monsters. Relationships vary throughout, from unfaithful lovers to masculine prison love, and all forms of familial relations, and its the tightness of some of the relationships that makes the threats in the stories all the more frightening. When the horror is endangering someone with whom we've formed an emotional bond, there is more at stake. Finally, skin makes several appearances throughout. Clegg deals frequently with human skin and the strange worlds that we hide underneath. We have skins acting as trophies, metamorphosing, housing other creatures and even embodying strange worlds. We even receive brief lessons regarding insects and exoskeletons, that, unlike us, have their soft spots safely on the inside. Overall, the skins in these stories generated a better framework than the story of Alice and the kidnapped boy-devil, and I enjoyed Clegg's ideas regarding skin so much that I waited for its appearance in each piece.

There is also a nice "Afterword" in which Clegg briefly details the influence for each story. I always appreciate these touches.

"Underworld." (Phantasm #3, 1996, as "Underground") 7/10

Aspiring writer Oliver takes his pregnant wife Jenny to a Szechuan restaurant in Palladin Row, a forgotten street in New York City. Shortly thereafter Jenny is murdered, and a year later, still dealing with his grief, Oliver visits the Szechuan restaurant, and looking through its boarded windows he believes he can see his dead wife. The story is written in a distant first person voice which helps us to quickly pass through the details of Jenny's death, which is a good thing since the story is not about her death, but about... something entirely different. Clegg does well in putting the story's necessary details together and delivering a quick read that, while offering nothing straightforwardly shocking, does offer an ending that makes the reader think, considering the implications of what just happened.

Spoiler: Now, learning that the infant spent a year being looked after by an imp or devil of some kind, I wonder how Oliver can integrate it into society. I don't mean psychologically or emotionally, but practically. Will he show up at the hospital and try to explain that he just retrieved his son from hell, and can he please have a birth certificate? And what would later be the birthplace listed on his passport? What would he tell his friends or even his lover? But all this aside, there is a nice ambiguity to the baby's existence since he was fed by hell's minions and we can wonder how he will turn out. Of course, the main point here is that the creatures of hell can be creatures of compassion. Or maybe the kid was just darned cute.

"Underworld," under its original title "Underground," was selected for inclusion in The Mammoth Book of Best Horror: Volume Eight, edited by Stephen Jones, NY: Carroll & Graf, 1997.

"White Chapel." (Love in Vein: Twenty Original Tales of Vampiric Erotica, edited by Poppy Z. Brite and Martin Harry Greenberg, New York: HarperPrism, November 1994) 7/10

Journalist Jane Boone has been conducting research on the elusive killer Nathan Meritt, "The White Devil," or otherwise known as "The Hero Who Skinned A Thousand Faces." She has travelled with her photographer Rex and two wealthy tourists to a secluded region of India where she believes he has taken refuge, a place called "White Chapel," where the jealous Monkey God resides.

Among the horror sub-genres that tend to bore me (usually because so many are so alike) is that of the ancient gods and their spells that still linger in the modern world. Yet Clegg has managed to put together a dark fantasy that works beyond the stereotypes of the sub-genre, that has little to do with silly mortals seeking fortune only to fall under a spell they are too rational to believe in. For one thing, the god is nearly mortal and hence more accessible (especially compared to the run of tales that appeared in the 1930s and 40s). "White Chapel" touches on notions of the inner self in conflict with the public self, and the negligible difference between pleasure and pain. With a mostly straightforward telling, a foreign land imbued with its smells and sights, along with its well-drawn characters (though the dialogue and accents did at times distract), Clegg's modern version of the ancient gods tale, with its modern horror inclinations (the references to serial killing and child abuse) is well worth a read.

"O, Rare and Most Exquisite." (Lethal Kisses, ed. Ellen Datlow, Millennium, 1996.) 7/10

In the nursing facility of a retirement home, a seventeen year-old boy meets Gus, a sickly retired gardener. From a tin box filled with sand, the old man produces a withered flower, and recounts his woeful tale of love for his former employer, and of the strange woman who loved him and gave him the rarest and most beautiful of flowers.

A strange and strangely touching story, I wonder only how someone as enchanting as Moira can love someone as bitter and selfish as Gus. It is certainly, among other things, a story of misplaced affections and , aside from Moira, the consequences of selfish desire.

"Only Connect." (The Conspiracy Files, edited by Martin H. Greenberg and Scott H. Urban, NY: DAW Books, August 1998) 7/10

Jim sells train tickets at a small Connecticut railway station, and the night the train derails, killing seventy-nine, Jim is struck with an incredible headache and hallucinatory visions. The visions continue to strike at different points, transporting him into the body of Mrs. Catherine Earnshaw, a middle-aged resident of an English hospital.

Among the most straightforwardly suspenseful stories of the collection, due to the mystery of its premise. "Only Connect" is reminiscent of some of Philip K. Dick's work, like Time Out of Joint (1959), as well as the excellent The Outer Limits episode "Tempests," (1997) as we try to figure out which reality is the "real" thing. A strong story, I found it slightly weakened by the bookend paragraphs, the cautionary framing voice that detracts from the story's focus. I wonder if this were an afterthought, or something requested by the editors.

"The Fruit of Her Womb." (Phantoms of the Night, edited by Richard Gilliam and Martin H. Greenberg, NY: DAW Books, June 1996) 6/10

Retired high school teacher James Richter and his wife Jackie move into an isolated California home to enjoy a peaceful final decade. They soon learn, however, that a previous owner of their new home, Joe Redlander, murdered his entire family. Rather than being disturbed, Richter is intrigued and his interest in the mystery soon turns to an obsession.

Not an original idea by any stretch, the story is nonetheless well written, and the strong characterization of James, Jackie and their relationship salvage this otherwise weaker story. The problem is that it ends as one would expect such a story to end, and that the Egyptology and Persephone myths seemed glossed over, as though mere excuses for the supernatural occurrences; though the ambiguity with the supernatural works well. The story also features the visuals and scents that help make Clegg's stories more concrete.

"The Rendering Man." (Cemetery Dance #19, Volume 6, No. 1, edited by Richard T. Chizmar, Winter 1994. pp 37-47) 8/10

In 1934 Oklahoma, eleven year-old Thalia Inez Canty and her big brother Lucius take care of the family farm while their parents are away at work. When they find the corpse of their sow rotting in the dirt, they take it to the Rendering Man, for he pays well for dead things, skilled at finding a use for their different parts.

Among the strongest stories of the collection, "The Rendering Man" is very well written, revealing itself patiently through well-rounded scenes and strong characters. The story contains some rewarding surprises, and a great connection between internationally and historically significant atrocities, and the atrocities humans are capable of on a quieter scale, closer to home. More allusions to skin and our inability to hide from who we are.

"The Night Before Alec Got Married." (Palace Corbie #5, Vol. 3, No. 1, edited by Wayne Edwards & Helen Homan, Lincoln NE: Merrimack Books, 1994) 8/10

Among a preppy crowd of socially hungry twenty-somethings, a couple of guys search the streets for the perfect prostitute for their most popular friend's bachelor party.

The story is narrated by one friend to another, so there is an interesting mix of first and second person narratives that is unusual and refreshing. The second person "you" is inherently aimed at both the intended, unnamed character and the reader, yet since the unnamed character is such an immature buffoon, the fact that we the reader is included in the "you" adds an element of humour, especially when we're told early on that we managed to get two of our fingers shot off. The humour helps highlight the notions of human relationships, particularly the trappings of social acceptance and how one's entourage defines one's self. The narrator's focus on homo-eroticism is a fitting detail. Beyond this there, is course, a truly creepy element that is revealed only at the end.

"The Ripening Sweetness of Late Afternoon." (Dante's Disciples, edited by Peter Crowther & Edward E. Kramer, White Wolf, 1996) 7/10

Travelling preacher Roy Shadiak returns to his hometown of Sunland City hoping to atone for a double murder he committed many years before. In the meantime, however, Sunland City has been plagued by monstrous angels who swoop down at midday to carry off any townspeople who may be wandering outdoors.

A compelling story with a truly disturbing idea and a good ending. I felt the story did take time getting to its core, a feeling I shared with three stories in this collection; the preamble of Shadiak's wanderings and the slow-paced return could possibly have been shortened. I was also caught by the grammatical ambiguity of the opening: "Sunland City was the last place in the world Jesus was ever going to come looking for Roy Shadiak. // He returned to his hometown in his fortieth year..." The "He" can be , but of course it's referring to Roy.

"Chosen." (The Nightmare Chronicles, NY: Leisure Books, 1999) 8/10

Rob Arlington lives alone in an over-priced, roach-infested apartment building in New York City. One night as he's doing laundry in the basement, he discovers something truly horrific in one of the garbage disposal shafts, which soon paves the way for something even more disturbing.

My synopsis is a little vague since I don't want to reveal even the slightest plot point in a truly creepy story. "Chosen" is not only disturbing, but featuring yet another patiently-told story with solid characters and atmosphere. Moreover, the story is well focused, and though a little longer than most, it never feels overly-long. The second of my three favourite ies in the collection. Interestingly enough, protagonist Rob has turned forty, the same age as Clegg, assuming he wrote it the year before the story first saw print in the collection.

"'The Little Mermaid'." (The Nightmare Chronicles, NY: Leisure Books, 1999) 6/10

Divorced middle-aged Alice lives by the beach. She has been noticing an old man collecting shells, and when she sprains her ankle he quickly comes to her aid. As they talk he mentions that when he was a boy he believed in mermaids, and now that he is growing old his youthful beliefs are returning.

The second story to first see print in the collection, it is not as engaging as "Chose" but is still a good read. Disturbing, certainly, but I seem to prefer Clegg's work to be a little longer, since I enjoy his attention to detail and characterization.

"Damned if You Do." (Cemetery Dance #16, Volume 5, No. 2, edited by Richard T. Chizmar, Spring 1993. pp 4-11) 7/10

A sixty-three year-old man is burying his wife in his yard. I won't expand so as not to ruin any surprises. A good read, it manages to garner sympathy for the elderly killer.

"The Hurting Season." (Deathrealm, edited by Mark Rainey, Fall 1993. pp 7-10) 7/10

Theron wonders why his father has to hurt. Living completely isolated across from Tangier Island, off the coast of Virginia, has made his family notorious for their differences. When a Yankee reporter 's car breaks down nearby, Theron sees it as an opportunity to stop his father from hurting. Another story with a slow start, but again it's well written and the reporter's appearance alters the pace and builds to a great climax. A story of the middle-of-nowhere outcasts along the lines of Deliverance, but nothing like James Dickey's novel; this story is told from the point of view of the member of the outcast family rather than the civilized outsider. Theron, however, is only partly an outsider as he questions the family traditions. He is, however, inevitably fated to follow the family traditions. How touching.

"I Am Infinite: I Contain Multitudes." (Palace Corbie 7, 1997) 8/10

A man in prison is given the opportunity to escape by a wizened inmate who everyone believes is God. An incredible story, deserving of the recognition it has received. I've always liked prison stories, and not only is the concept of this one, along with its fantastic ending, highly original, Clegg's emphasis on relationships and basic human needs is well characterized and well written.

Nominated for the 1997 Bram Stoker Award, Superior Achievement in Short Fiction, and included in The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror: Eleventh Annual Collection (Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling), July 1998.

Michael Crichton, Jurassic Park (1990)

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Crichton, Michael, Jurassic Park, New York: Alfred A. Knopf, November 1990 (hardcover)
Crichton, Michael, Jurassic Park, New York: Ballantine Books, September 1991 (paperback)

For other editions, see Jurassic Park at Goodreads or ISFDb.

My response to Michael Crichton's best-known work was surprising: I was glued to the novel and highly entertained. Despite its contentious science, half-formed characters and overly long sequences, Jurassic Park is a good read. The set-up is long yet interesting, as Crichton speculates about the details of bringing dinosaurs back to life, along with the tightly considered aspects of creating and running a dinosaur amusement park. Indeed the set-up is the stronger portion of the novel, since the latter half is burdened by the overly long chase and attack sequences, and the over-written, often annoying rantings of mathematician Ian Malcolm.

Malcolm comes across as Crichton in disguise. A raving chaos theorist, he is the antithesis to Jurassic Park's creator and mad corporate man, John Hammond (perhaps the first mad scientist who isn't actually a scientist at all, though corporatism is a form of modern science). Both characters are portrayed as narrow-minded in their obsessive world views (Malcolm unintentionally), though we see that Crichton's sympathies lie with the mathematician if only because his long-winded rants remain unchallenged by other characters, aside from Hammond's "I don't know what you're talking about.

What Malcolm and Crichton are talking about is the notion of responsibility. Using science, nearly anyone can create a remarkable wonder or discover a fascinating aspect of the Earth's past, yet humans fail in that they do not consider the consequences of their creations or their discoveries. While striving for accomplishment, humans are destined to harm the world around them. This idea is highlighted by a scene late in the book when Hammond manages to blame nearly everyone for the failure of his amusement park, from his grandchildren to the local hired hands, leaving out only the reader and Crichton himself. (Imagine that for a a great postmodern twist: "It was the author's fault for writing this novel, Hammond insisted.")

Among Malcolm's many empirical and overblown statements is: "Discovery is always a rape of the natural world. Always." (284) Though his opening statements are interesting, he loses credibility with Crichton's inability to have him stop. (Thankfully I like to end my own points quickly, though some of you currently entangled on the internets are probably thinking "Not quickly enough.")

The difficulties with these passages are essentially related to character. The many characters in the novel are unfortunately handled quite poorly. Crichton inserts brief character descriptions at certain points, keeping them brief so as not to interfere with the fast-paced plot. The characters remain mostly sketches, delineated with familiar traits (computer wiz Dennis Nedry is a junk-a-holic, computer operator John Arnold is a nervous chain-smoker, while park warden Robert Muldoon likes to nip from a flask, which he oddly seems to discover only late in the book). The kids can get annoying and repetitive, and some characters seem to disappear despite having a strong initial presence, in particular Dr. Ellie Sattler, the only adult female character of note.

Jurassic Park is yet another work that would have been more successful if shortened. I would easily bite off about fifty or sixty pages, and the dinosaur-attacking-kids sequences and Malcolm's rantings would be my first victims. The reader is fairly certain that the kids will not be among the victims, so these scenes lack suspense. I believe Crichton, despite the violence and occasional profanity, was hoping to reach a younger audience along with the adults. Specifically he seems to have wanted a younger male audience, as he mentions more than once that young boys are inherently interested in dinosaurs, and Timothy is far more heroic than little sister Alexis. This need explains the emphasis on adventure alongside the smart nerdy boy, while the tom-boy girl eventually proves to be less of an athlete and more of a whiner.

List of Characters (excluding minor players; notice how a number of characters have first names as last names.)

Dr. Alan Grant, paleontologist
Dr. Ellie Sattler, paleontologist
John Hammond, Jurassic Park creator
Dr. Ian Malcolm, mathematician
Donald Gennaro, legal counsel for InGen
Robert Muldoon, park warden
Dr. Henry Wu, geneticist
John Arnold, computer operator
Timothy Murphy, Hammond's grandson
Alexis "Lex" Murphy, Hammond's granddaughter
Dr. Harding, veterinarian
Ed Regis, publicist
Dennis Nedry, computer programmer
Dr. Martin Gutierrez, medical doctor
Bob Morris, Environmental Protection Agency
Lewis Dodgson, Biosyn representative, InGen competitor

Aside: On Hiatus

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My posts have been infrequent due to some life events, not because I've lost interest in posting.

I will be out of the country for two months, returning in mid-November.

I do have many posts in progress so it's not entirely unlikely that nothing will appear at all.

(Notice the double negative.)

Internet access will be sporadic, and hence my replies to posts and to emails will be delayed.

Thank you all for visiting.

Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, July 1965: The Interior Art

2011-09-18T22:37:00.011-04:00

Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, Vol. 10, No. 7, July 1965
For a review of the issue's stories, please visit here.

Though the covers of the AHMM issues during the 1960s and 1970s were less than unremarkable, the interior drawings are a treat. I don't know who was responsible for these, but the artist's attention to detail, interesting facial interpretations and great quirkiness is an absolute treat, helping to enhance the overall issues and the individual stories themselves. As a kid in the mid-80s I would purchase these back issues for a quarter at a local second hand book store, and before even reading the issues I would sit and look at the art, at times trying to interpret what the stories were about.

Here is a rundown of most of the art in the July 1965 issue, which I reviewed a little while ago.Bragging about paying only a quarter, some of the issues were unfortunately in poor condition, this one being among the worst since someone was unable to mentally calculate 60 + 7.50 + 2.25. But I guess those were big numbers back when this issue cost only fifty cents. (I cropped off the top of this image; though I loved the book shop as a kid, in hindsight I'm quite upset they ruined all their merchandise by ink stamping their store name and location on the first page.)

The first full-page artwork is for the lead-in story, "The Peregrine" by Clark Howard. This image, in all its ugly brown splendour, depicts our two convicts amid the thick brush as they discover the infant bird. The drawing below, from the bottom of page 11, depicts the unsympathetic prison guard as he sits behind the line that no prisoner shall cross, unless they wish to get shot point blank. (A third image I didn't include as it contains a spoiler.)

The title image for Ed Lacy's "The Little Things" (page 17) includes a hint as to why convict Harry Morris was killed. The murder is depicted on page 20, with an accurate rendering of the shooting, including the bullet's point of impact. Lovely.

D. S. Halacy Jr.'s "Hardheaded Cop" receives the second full-page colour rendering, with our "hero" Police Sergeant Dave Hackett slumped in his kitchen chair, beer in hand, with his lovely wife being, well, a lovely wife, with Hackett's steaming dinner in hand. My feelings about the characters are made clear in my review, but I nonetheless like the detailed aspect of the drawing, the full-sized kitchen complete with dotted floors, mountains of dishes and... hey wait! Is that a kitchen window behind the cop? And is that a door leading to a dining room that clearly continues behind the wall. I see, the kitchen window gives a nice view of the dining room. Kind of like the set of a sitcom. (Incidentally, as a kid I thought the fists on the title page were punching the cop, but only later did it dawn on me that they are rapping his head, testing for firmness.)

For Carroll Mayers's "Man with a Hobby" we have the man in question, local Sam Hubbard, immersed in his hobby of pursuing potential bad guys. Sam is a chubby, clumsy-looking fellow, less akin to a bounty hunter than one would imagine, while the potential thug is quite thug-like, staring at the Fidelity Loan Company across the street. I love the steaming cup of coffee, the diner tablecloth, red an white despite the black and white, and the two lines beside Sam's coat button, emphasizing his pudginess.

Richard Deming's highly enjoyable "Gentle Bluebeard" is positively enhanced by the charming drawings. While the full-page yellow garage meeting between Sergeant Sod Harris and mechanic Mosher seems an odd choice for such focus as there is nothing terribly integral to the moment, the various images of poor Arlene Mosher lounging in the hospital bed (pages 54 and 55) throughout her various misfortunes are sensitively detailed, and even charming. The story's title page is nicely rendered with the old hospital bed, it's little wheels and the medical chart hanging on its frame. The decision to place Deming's name underneath the bed is great. Perhaps it's just me, but I found a little humour in the layout of the three different hospitalization scenes. The beds are identical but the lamps are different as are her flowers. She's probably lying there wondering how she can possibly be such a klutz. Poor Arlene Mosher.

The disappointing "Loaded Guns Are Dangerous" by Richard O. Lewis has some amusing art. The author's name on the title page is not a series of bullet hole, but the dots help to represent George's valuable coin collection. Gullible Martha appears in all her fine, loud-mouthed glory, and the inset of one of the bad guys is great.

"A Very Cold Gimlet" features a very busy title. "A Very Cold" hovers over a nicely frosted glass filled with "Gimlet," while Frank Sisk's name sits in the glass's shadow. In the inset to the right we have the very cold, sharply drawn Janice Sanford, beside a friendly enough looking bit character. Janice appears icily laughing on the phone while our "hero" Osgood Chase is fuming beside her, each armed with a gimlet. While I like Janice's sharp curls, the tough guy look of Chase somehow doesn't match the man I had in mind.

My favourite art for any story belongs to Gloria Ericson's "See No Evil." The monkey faces in the title page are more comical than creepy, while the lettering is a little juvenile, particularly the drooping "EVIL." On the other hand, the depiction of pet shop owner is excellent, as he looks partly like an ape, and somewhat like a mouse. His character is consistent in both images. On the right he is shocked at Miss Decker collapsing, while the monkey stares, appropriately with an excellent bird's eye view, his little doll leaning against his cage. We see Miss Decker's belongings scattered across the floor, including her cash and her house key. The image below, with the ape-like Benjy finding Miss Decker's loot, includes some amusing wall photos of her beloved dog, which is a great detail.

The title to Arthur Porges's "The Perfect Wife" is wonderful, as the somewhat comical story has a very comical rendering of the strangling of one of the "little old biddies" that our so-called hero dislikes so much. There is also a small inset of our dashing narrator which I do not include. This drawing is a small filler, adding little to anything, and not quite rendering the killer as I would expect to see him."The Five-Minute Millionaire" is granted one of the full-page colour images, this one in ugly brown, though a lighter brown than that used for "The Peregrine." The title page shows a woman pulling the minute hand of a clock (the author's name is in the facing page), while the full page depicts the murder. The title page seems a little messy, and it took me five minutes to figure out what the lady in the sheer gown was doing (looks almost like she's holding an umbrella). As for the title page I love the over-sized mallet thing, especially in contrast to the victim's tiny flashlight. I also like that the artist includes the victim's shadow, only it contradicts the tiny flashlight, giving the impression that the room is fully lit.

Wenzell Brown's short piece "Gallivantin' Woman" has only a title page, which features Miss Susie Sloane happily gallivantin'. An amusing, exaggerated rendition of the annoying little woman.

The title for "The Kidnappers" features trembling lettering alongside a trembling kidnapped boy and a calmer woman. The facing page has either criminal or payee with the loot bag rushing by a lamp post and over the author's name. The yellow page below has the gluttonous Mr. Kapon worrying over son Timothy while holding up the ransom note, while the seductress secretary is vying for the businessman's attentions. Details include a bundle of letters on Kapon's desk (his laptop must be in the drawer) and a pretty heart-shaped locket on the succubus, I mean secretary's right wrist.

The double-paged title to "Welcome Stranger" is nicely detailed. The story's lettering is on a large highway billboard which has become the archetypical hiding place for a highway patrol car seeking speedsters, while Elijah Ellis's name appears in a small picket sign. We have our crooked sheriff lounging with his cigarette, while his intended victims are driving by. Look closely around the billboard and you'll notice some signs, like the 20 mph speed limit, details that are mentioned in the story.

Finally, our novelette for the month, Richard Hardwick's "Slow Motion Murder," gives us a watery title and the final full-page colour illustration. The illustration, in a bold green, depicts the scene of the crime. This one too is nicely detailed. I suspect the illustrator read each of these stories, considered their potential and carefully selected each scene to depict. Moreover, s/he does a great job at illustrating the story titles, even though the lettering reminds me at times of my childhood attempts at drawing, back when I drew regularly under the misguided suspicion that I had such talents.

Dark Moon Digest #3 (April 2011)

2011-08-25T10:26:00.001-04:00

Dark Moon Digest, Issue 3, April 2011. 125 pp.
Edited by Stan Swanson
Published by Dark Moon Books, an imprint of Stony Meadow Publishing

Issue three of Dark Moon Digest has a revamped cover style, and it's a grand improvement. The logo, layout and design, and the truly creepy cover artwork, make for an attractive issue. The handsome work is credited to Whendy Muchlis Effendy.

Once again DMD features a wide array of media, including short stories, flash fiction, longer prose excerpts, graphic work, calls for submission, and sentence-long micro-fiction. As per usual I am limiting my reviews to longer prose works, though I've included some brief comments on the flash fiction.

"Cirque des Facades" by Chris Thorndycroft. 6/10
In the seedier quarter of late nineteenth century Paris, along the lower Seine, lies the abject entertainment district, that part of town where people thrive on immoral theatre, on the basest forms of amusement. The district's star is Madame Babineaux, a former prostitute who has done well for herself by imitating the recently departed scandalous figures of Parisian society. It's thanks to their recent demise that her mimicry is so accurate, since she wears their faces on a purely literal level.

Despite its obvious direction, I enjoyed the story quite a bit. Vividly and darkly detailed, this district of Paris becomes the central figure of the tale, overshadowing Babineaux as well as the plot. The amoral figures are born into their decrepit existence, and ambitions for survival and fame lead them to practice their ghoulish acts, from Babineax herself, her mysterious rival and the mortician who sells her the peeled off faces for her act. I would encourage the author to consider more such tales, and perhaps re-working this one.

Now that I've openly stated liking the story, I'm going to pick on it a little. "A few miles downriver, the muddy banks of the Seine attracted the lowest elements of Parisian society. It offered the perfect place for the circuses, freak shows and gin houses to make their living well away from the turned-up noses and frowns of the better areas of the city."

The paragraph preceding the one above is set in the very district, so when reading "A few miles downriver" we're being taken away from the district to another, and I needed to stop and re-read to realise we're at the same place, as if the river were a circular body. The author meant to say that this particular seedy district lies a few miles downriver from the posher parts of Paris. Moreover it's Paris, so perhaps kilometres would be more appropriate.

Lately I've noticed a general trend in overusing prepositions. Perhaps it's the need for accuracy or clarity or some form of self-conscious tic, but it makes for clunky, jagged reading. I would recommend the following second sentence re-write: "The district offered a perfect haven for the circuses, freak shows and gin houses to make their living well away from the turned-up noses and frowns of the city's more affluent areas." Eliminating as many of thes and other prepositional connections eases the flow. In the meantime I've replaced "place" since it's too general, and I must shake my head at "better areas" as well, since who is to say they are better. I can't claim that my version of the sentence is better, only that it's more syntactically accurate, but each reader can claim for themselves which is indeed better. For instance, the seedy part of Paris is a far better locale for the story than the affluent areas.

Speaking of abstractions, some of the descriptions left me scratching my head. "The world returned to Madame Babineaux like some dark movement beneath the murky waters of the Seine." Hmmm... I think I know what he's trying to say, but a little overkill on the Seine and I really don't know what "some dark movement" means. It's an abstraction. It returns to her as though she were half-submerged in these murky waters? Or is the world moving underwater while she is watching from the dry shore? There are other examples but I'll stop here.

Once again I did like the story, I'm hoping only to help make it better. Or if not "better," at least more concrete :)

"Death By Scrabble" by Charlie Fish. 7/10
About a year ago someone at Goodreads brought this story to my attention (it was published online at short-stories.co.uk in 2006) and I'm glad to see the story in print. The set-up is simple: a couple is playing scrabble on an uncomfortably hot day. There is tension in the relationship heightened by the sweltering temperatures. Told through the point of view of the husband who wants very much to win and very much to get rid of his wife, he soon learns that the letters spelled out on the board immediately manifest themselves in reality. He spells EXPLODES and the air conditioner blows up, and when he spells FLY a buzzing insect appears. Realizing the power of the scrabble letter tiles, he attempts to discover a way to get rid of his wife.

This is a simple yet fun story that works because of its sense of humour and the excellent pacing, and also because it's quite short so we don't get tired of the gimmick. "It's hot and I hate my wife," it opens, setting us up and hooking us in with only a few words.

(It also reminds me of the truly brilliant Richard Condie NFB film The Big Snit, a short film I am always pleased to be reminded of.)

"Blood on the Strip" by Axel Howerton. 3/10
An elderly cowboy stumbles into an old-style coffee shop off the strip in Las Vegas and tells the assembled crowd, and the reader, of the craziness he's just witnessed. His tale involves a magician, a mysterious shaman, a pair of white tigers... and meanwhile emergency sirens outside are consistently blaring by. The story is interesting and there is a fair amount of suspense, until the zombies appear and the needless violence takes over. Once we realize what's going on, we have to sit through a tired zombie attack, which is unfortunate, especially since we're only half-way through the story.

The author's bio was more entertaining.

"The Monster on Myers Avenue" by Greg Mollin. 6/10
Edgar "Dumpster" Dunston is cycling through his old school grounds the summer before junior high, when he's attacked by bully Charley Specter, who, unlike his name, is less than ghostlike. Charley wants to remind Edgar that he is supposed to break into the seemingly empty home of the reclusive elderly Mrs. Melody Oakenfold and to remove the treasures Charley is convinced are stashed away in the house. Earlier, in a brief prologue, we have learned that Mrs. Oakenfold is dead, and that there is a demonic presence in her house.

Then some stuff happens, which I won't give away. I liked this one but the prose needs to be tightened and the familiar characters and scenarios done just a little differently. What I like is that our (anti)hero Edgar is walking the tightrope of moral development, while we wonder which end he will fall into. Edgar is the son of a drunken and abusive man, and is a social outcast because of his imperfect speech and unfortunate hygiene issues. Moreover, he is depressed because the only person who did not avoid him, little Jenny Forester, was recently killed in a hit-and-run. We sympathize with the poor kid, yet don't fully trust his pre-developed sense of good and evil. Remember, Edgar in King Lear was the good son (not to be confused with his jealous and scheming illegitimate brother Edmund), so we have hope, but how can someone with so few prospects turn out good, especially when about to face a (literal) demon from hell?

Spoiler. Well, this demon (named Leonard) is trapped in time and place and in order to get back to his realm needs a human victim, and Edgar must choose whether or not to lead Charley simultaneously to hell and out of his life. This is where the story falls apart for me. The choice is Edgar's, and a serious one it is as it will affect the course of his moral development, yet the demon Leonard seals the decision by essentially choosing for Edgar, telling him if he won't supply a victim, then he himself will be the victim. The story would have been far more effective if Edgar heads toward Charley, considering his options, and only when seeing the bully makes the decision for himself. The last line would also make more sense as it is part of his downward moral progression. (Then we can wonder what junior high with Edgar would be like.)

Finally, there is another problem in that Leonard, an almost non-stereotypical demon, tells Edgar that once he has a victim he will leave this realm, yet at the end is still in the house. I prefer the idea that the demon is eternally trapped (or at the least trapped long-term) with the subtle implication that Edgar must feed it from time to time. This will add emphasis to the end, as well as to the title.

"Voices Carry" by Tom Wortmann. 7/10
In 1944 a team of allied foot soldiers are canvassing southern Poland searching for the remaining concentration camps, scouting the land ahead of the tank troupes. The story, told through vignettes from the points of view of several different and varied characters, tells of their long march and of the frightening discovery at an abandoned camp.

Wortmann's story received the Dark Moon Digest prize for best entry in its recent vampire short story contest, and though I haven't yet read issue four of DMD, I am ready to award it the figurative prize for best short story to have appeared in the magazine's first year. The best thing about "Voices Carry" is that it is well written, competently focusing on character and using its smaller details effectively. Whatever this story was going to be about, whatever sub-genre it would introduce, I didn't care since I was hooked early on and read it quickly through.

To be honest, I am a prejudiced reader, and don't care for vampire stories (I've been disappointed too often, and the mythology has the tendency to become silly and self-conscious), but even knowing this piece was vampire-related, the writing and story progression managed to take hold my prejudice and slap me with it. Well done, Mr. Wortmann. The thing is, it's not really about vampires; the undead here illustrate the severing from life of those who have been severed from both their homes and from the comforts of home through the horrors of war. Far more frightening than a bite on the neck.

The only problem I have with the story (which is why I graded it 7/10 rather than a deserved 8), is that the final vignette is a weak and unnecessary finish. The previous vignette's image and last line is far more powerful, and leaving the reader with that final, frightening image would have been exemplary.

"Tenants, Part Two" by Kevin McClintock. 7/10
As we follow Angela's exploits in trying to get to her daughter, we must survive a detailed car chase and a confrontation with a cop with a history. What makes "Tenants" work is not the plot itself, which is essentially an extended chase with promise, nor the writing per se, since despite it being told through the point of view of a woman it is clearly being written by a man, but the pacing and energy. McClintock infuses his tale with some truly energetic writing, so that the seemingly unending car chase is never dull, and the eventual violence does not feel overdone.

The cliffhanger here doesn't work too well, since we know there are two parts remaining and hence Angela cannot die, at least not yet.

"Rub Me the Wrong Way" by Heather Durkin. 6/10
Massage therapist Abby's first client of the day proves to be challenging, since she turns out to be a zombie. Abby works for a clinic that does not exclude or prejudice, so vampires, shifters and zombies are all welcome. The problem is that zombies are known to occasionally go ballistic and try to munch on the brains of the living.

There is no real story-line here, but that's what makes this an entertaining read. a massage therapist herself, author Durkin does well in pacing the narrative, told through Abby's point of view, around her skills while informing the reader of the various complications with massaging zombies. Well written despite the misuse of lay/lie, was/were, and other minor bumps along the sentences.

"Kindread" by Richard Moore. 6/10
Poor inbred child Lyle. As he's trying to carve up a pretty young girl, his mother crawls back home to interrupt his plans. The whole business is shocking, especially since it's been two weeks since he's killed his ma, and the best part, why she's crawling, is she doesn't have any legs. Well, not exactly, since they're out front running around. It turns out the swamp water Lyle dumped his mother's body into, after having cut her in two, has the ability to fuse different organisms together, a process that I suppose also revives the dead. The final sequence is reminiscent of John Carpenter's excellent The Thing.

I enjoyed this story more than I thought I would, since I'm not too fond of comedy horror. It wasn't exactly funny, but it was entertaining. I just wonder what the author could have done if he treated this idea seriously. Sure it's outlandish, but outlandish story ideas don't necessarily need to be relegated to horror's least effective sub-genres.

"All Consuming Hunger of Love" by Araminta Star Matthews. 6/10
Margaret Cron's husband Robert was just killed in a car accident, leaving the woman in a near paralyzing state of grief. Following years of co-dependency, former librarian Margaret is losing her grasp on reality, and is determined to get her Robert back. The story flows fairly well and the plot is well developed with an unpredictable denouement. It has some pacing problems though, mainly in that it's overly long, especially the closer we near the end. Shortening some sequences and tightening some elements would help the story considerably, and the strong plot elements deserve this.

A fairly polished story, there are nonetheless some unfortunate oversights, the most embarrassing being that the prestigious Paris university Sorbonne is referred to as the Sarbonne.

"The Smell of Death" by Graham Williams. 4/10
Three members of a (probably metal) band and their (probable) groupie Jessy are stuck in a food-depleted house during a zombie uprising. Our intelligence-deficient quad have run out of zombie repellent, and attempt to concoct a lotion that would allow them to pass through the neighbourhood hordes and get to the nearest club for a bite and maybe a brew. As I've stated, horror comedy does not digest well with me, and I hurried through this one.

Flash fiction:

"The End" (or "Finis") by Graham Williams. 5/10
A straightforward piece of a pair of collaborators completing their sure-fire money-making masterpiece. It would work better if it were flashier (as in shorter), though I like the play with the title.

"The Fourth Girl" by Grier Jewell. 7/10
Three girls are cloud-watching, but there is that fourth girl whose name no one can remember. This one managed to impress me, especially with the nice and creepy surrealist quality. Three girls are cloud-watching, but there is that fourth girl...

finis

Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, July 1965

2011-08-21T13:27:00.003-04:00

I will be posting pics of the internal art shortly, once I find the battery charger for my camera. (Any ideas?)

Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, Vol. 10, No. 7, July 1965. 160 pp
G. F. Foster, Editor
Richard E. Decker, Publisher
Victoria S. Benham & Pat Hitchcock, Associate Editors
Marguerite Blair Deacon, Art Director

This ugly cover is supposed to be celebrating Independence Day of 1965. Ugly most definitely, but, in comparison to the other covers from the decade, there is at least something going on.

Thirteen short stories and one novelette over 160 pages (the 164 advertised on the cover includes all four cover pages). There are no stand-out stories in this issue, the strongest being Clark Howard's lead-in piece "The Peregrine," Gloria Ericson's "See No Evil" and "The Five-Minute Millionaire," by James Cross. The only real downer is D. S. Halacy Jr.'s "Hard Headed Cop," which falls apart due to the plot's latter turn of convenience.

What's interesting is that a number of our stories here feature criminals who get away with their crimes.

"The Peregrine" by Clark Howard. 7/10
Prison road workers Conley and Beever come across a helpless young female falcon, and Conley immediately recognizes the bird as a potential for escape. The wise and experienced Conley begins to train the bird with the help of the slow-witted old Beever, and tensions rise steadily between the two during the month of the peregrine's training. A tightly-written story and quite suspenseful; though we know the story will end with some kind of backlash twist, I personally could not tell how Conley would get caught.

"The Little Things" by Ed Lacy. 4/10
Chief Paul Polo is awaiting the 6:45 train and its passenger, recently released convict Harry Morris. Morris was convicted years before for murdering his lover, and Polo's diligent investigating had secured a confession from a dying man, proving Morris's innocence. Pleased with himself yet still sympathetic to the painter Morris, Polo invites him to stay at his home, but Morris declines, confessing he had saved up $6,000 (which was quite a bit back in 1965). A few minutes following this conversation, Morris is gunned down by men in a passing car.

This interesting mystery leaves little to remember it by. Though I was clueless as to the murderer's identity and the motive until Polo speculates on it, the writing itself is so straightforwardly dull that I also didn't care too much. There is nothing about the prose, about the dialogue or the characters to set this piece apart from any other generic mystery. The resolution of the case is also anticlimactic, since the telling is so straightforward and the reveal so unexciting that in a month I won't recall a thing about the story.

"Hardheaded Cop" by D. S. Halacy, Jr. 3/10
Police Sergeant Dave Hackett arrives home for dinner in a bitter mood. His pregnant wife Margie is cooking steaks, fetching him beer and asking about his day, but Hackett, oblivious to her attentions, is so grumpy that he is downright mean. It turns out he didn't get that promotion to Lieutenant. Moreover, it went to Jerry Nelson, a man with two years less on the force. Dave is a good, dedicated cop, but a little too by-the-book, and the town takes advantage of his strict code to ridicule the entire understaffed police force.

There are a number of reasons this story doesn't work, and a few that make it dull.

A lack of plot makes a good character study, or an examination of a scene or scenario, any moment in time, but not a good mystery story, especially one that pretends the elements of plot. It's not that there's no cohesive story, but very little happens, and what little does happen is too conveniently appropriate. The final showdown has nothing to do with the story taking place, and comes in too conveniently to alter the course of the narrative and bring it to its end. A deus ex machina, as Henry James called it.

This trope also manages to reform the town's perception of Hackett. The townsfolk dislike the cop, and Hackett does absolutely nothing to gain their trust and respect. It's the chance heroic act that changes the town's feelings toward him, yet he does nothing to change his ill-tempered ways. The incident has nothing to do with his longed-for promotion, and moreover his actions were risky since he endangered the life of a young hostage. A chance shooting does not a hero make, and the story is saying that a chance shooting not only makes a hero, but defines the man.

Speaking of the man, the scene between Hackett and his wife is uncomfortably aggressive. Behind the times, even for 1965, Mrs. Hackett does everything to ease her hubby's ill-feelings, and receives nasty treatment in response. The story also manages to promote the notion that a son has more value than a daughter.

Hackett does not change, and using more of Henry James terminology, he is a stock character.

"Man with a Hobby" by Carrol Mayers. 6/10
The lone deputy of the small community of Surf City recounts the case of Sam Hubbard, a man with a hobby. Since he moved into town, widower Hubbard has been keeping tabs on wanted and suspicious men, hoping to claim a reward if one were caught through information he's provided. Just before lunch he enters the police station to tell of a criminal-looking outsider who appears interested in the town's Fidelity Loan Company.

A quick and fun read, there is nothing remarkable about the story, the twist or the set-up. There is an attempt at lightness and dated humour (the deputy remarks that his own hobby is girl-watching), which is fine for the type of simple mystery it is. [Spoiler] It also helps the reader accept that a criminal gets away with his crime, a feat rare in most cases of AHMM, EQMM and the rest, though surprisingly common in this issue.

"Gentle Bluebeard" by Richard Deming. 7/10
Sergeant Sod Harris is dispatched to investigate a call from a doctor who has been treating a patient who might have been poisoned. Oddly enough, though she was quite ill, her sickness never approached dangerous proportions, and though there is clear evidence of tranquilizer in her blood stream, it isn't enough to have caused any long-term damage. The case appears at first to be a misdiagnosis, yet it takes on another dimension when Harris learns that the patient, Mrs. Arlene Mosher, has been hospitalized four times in the past two years, three times due to an apparent poisoning, though never of a serious extreme. The first time she fell down a flight of stairs.

A good set-up and a good, straightforward investigation makes for a suspenseful read. Deming was a frequent contributor to AHMM, though I don't know if Sergeant Sod Harris was a regular character (Google gives no evidence). It's nice to read along with an unassuming detective, who is never ahead of us with the investigation, nor behind us for that matter. The reader makes each discovery along with Harris, and learns the nature of the plot at the same instant he does. Some nice character-driven drama and a satisfyingly fitting conclusion make for a well-constructed story.

"Loaded Guns Are Dangerous" by Richard O. Lewis. 5/10
George is at home one evening when there is a knock at the door. Two men are standing there, asking to use his telephone, and George suspects they are those thief-murderers he's been reading about, possibly after his valuable coin collection. He's prepared though, with loaded guns placed throughout the house, but how can he get to them? And then his gullible wife Martha appears and invites the men inside, chatting them up even as they draw their guns and ask about George's coins.

An amusing little story with an out-of-place ending. I just can't imagine [Spoiler] the soft, mild-mannered George pulling a Charles Bronson on these men. But I suppose it was the only way of getting out of this mess.

"A Very Cold Gimlet" by Frank Sisk. 6/10
Architectural engineer Osgood Chace has stricken up an intimate relationship with Janice Sanford, wife of M. P. Sanford, the president of the company he is currently on contract with. An affair with Mrs. Sanford threatens Osgood's career, and yet she is indiscreet, taking unnecessary risks. Most unusual us the particular night of this story, when she drives Osgood to a chic restaurant she and her husband frequent. A good read though an unremarkable story. Sisk once again focuses on character to make the plot work.

"See No Evil" by Gloria Ericson. 7/10
Lonely and arthritic pet shop owner Benjy is tired of running a failing business inherited from his father. He shares the shop with the old caged monkey Jiggs, and the two make a depressive pair. Yet Benjy's luck might have just changed as old lady Miss Decker collapses in the shop from an apparent heart attack while searching for a toy for her ailing dog. Falling to the floor, the contents of her purse spill out and a wad of bills rolls to Benjy's feet. On a whim he takes her key and hurries over to her apartment where he finds, stashed beneath her mattress, thousands of dollars in cash. An easy windfall, yet when he returns to the shop and tries to move the old lady she stirs in his hands. Desperately wanting freedom from his miserable life, without thinking it through and in a fit of frustrated passion, he stabs her to death.

"See No Evil" is a suspenseful story with a strong finish. More than merely a simple mystery, there is a great link between the old, embittered man and the sour, caged monkey. Depressing notions of wasted lives and utter hopelessness prevail throughout the story, and I'm not sure which creature I feel sorry for the most, but I did feel pangs of sadness toward both sudden criminal and non-comprehending caged witness.

"The Perfect Wife" by Arthur Porges. 6/10
"Every now and then I have to go out and kill somebody." Korean war veteran takes to killing old biddies, nosy, arrogant women with chicken necks who are a nuisance to America society. Told through his point of view, this quick and predictable read is nonetheless enjoyable (mainly because it's so quick).

"The Five-Minute Millionaire" by James Cross. 6/10
Rife with gambling debts, Tommy Russell wants his uncle to release his inheritance, but Uncle Fred Rawlinson is aware of Russell's lifestyle and instead encourages him to find a job. Averse to working, Russell instead convinces his lover Phyllis to seduce the older bachelor, so that when he dies of unnatural causes, they would gain both Russell's inheritance as well as Uncle Fred's fortune.

A fun read, well written, and despite what should be an obvious ending (because it's been done countless times), I nonetheless did not see it coming.

"Gallivantin' Woman" by Wenzell Brown. 5/10
Reclusive Miss Susie Sloane comes down from her home in Mount Solomon to good-naturedly annoy the good people of Cripple's Bend. Yet things change when she unknowingly stumbles upon a bank robbery in progress.

The humour is ultra light and there isn't much a mystery. Written through the point of view of the local sheriff, a man with a soft spot for Susie, we get the full range of small-town dialect, from tone to spellin' to expressions. The story was written clearly for laughs, and though somewhat amusing it certainly isn't memorable.

"The Kidnappers" by Max Van Derveer. 6/10
Lonely and neglected wife of a millionaire Rita Kapon falls for the dashing salesman/crook Robert Shelton, and agrees to let herself and son Timothy to be kidnapped for ransom. Shelton does, after all, promise they will be together after it's all over. While the gluttonous Mr. Kapon cares little for his wife, who he keeps on a shoestring budget, he takes the bait because of his love for his son.

A good read and a plot that can go in many directions. The finish opted for does become obvious once we near it, which is too bad, and the story should perhaps not have been included in the same issue as James Cross's "The Five-Minute Millionaire."

Spoiler: It makes no sense that Kapon's secretary Connie Landers, who he is having an affair with, turns out to be Shelton's partner. Connie taking an inside job, one that she's likely had for some time, does nothing in aiding the ransom plan. Yeah it's another twist, but if we stop to think about it, it just doesn't make much sense.

"Welcome, Stranger" by Elijah Ellis. 6/10
Garvin is driving through a small town notorious for crooked cops who pick up strangers for the most ridiculous of violations, and though he is aware of the town's nature, he is nonetheless committing several offenses. The thing is, hidden in his coat is a tape recorder and in the back of the car his partner Mac; the two men are trying to get caught and in the process catch the crooked law red-handed.

A quick read, and yet another enjoyable yet eventually forgettable little story. The ending is odd, as there is a little additional dialogue that should have been edited out, and its presence really drags the story down at the finish.

"Slow Motion Murder" by Richard Hardwick. 6/10
Sheriff Dan Peavy, officer/narrator Pete Miller, Deputy Jerry and the rest of the gang from Guale County are back for yet another local murder. The victim this time is the despicable Bernie Hibler, a man many would've liked to have seen dead. His body is discovered in his boathouse, tied to a mast, gagged and blindfolded, and shot through the heart.

As with other Dan Peavy mysteries, this one features the comical Jerry getting into some wild and crazy antics that ultimately help Peavy figure out how the murder was set up and who the culprit is. Neat murder idea, though there's enough clues close to the beginning to point the reader toward figuring it out, at least in part. Too bad, as the novelette ends up being too long for its own good. (For a review of Hardwick's Peavy novelette "Sheriff Peavey's Double Dead Case," please see here.)

Frank Lauria, Communion (1977)

2011-08-12T11:33:00.002-04:00

Lauria, Frank, Communion, NY: Bantam Books, July 1977. 179 pages 5/10

I should not have read this book. If only because the movie appears decidedly better. Directed by Alfred Sole and released in 1976, Communion has the reputation of being a little-known thriller that deserves to be well-know, a "lost classic," essentially. It deals with a horrifying murder and touches on issues of repression, child abuse and the ills of organized religion. The novelization is simply unnecessary. But the cover is quite nicely creepy.

Communion deals with the murder of a young girl named Karen Spages. The better half of a pair of sisters, Karen is brutally killed in her church moments at the start of her first communion. Many believe her mischievous twelve year-old sister Alice is responsible, while Alice is convinced that Karen has returned from the dead to commit further crimes, wearing her communion dress and a grasping a butcher knife. Her divorced parents Catherine and Dominic believe she is innocent and are trying to figure out what is really going on. There is a good contrast between the parents, the orthodox mother and seemingly sex-starved and professionally ambitious father, which help to illustrate the conflicts within young Alice.

Adding to the list of characters is a taunting and jealous aunt Alice, her own passive husband Jim and their two children. Father Tom is the good-looking priest and childhood friend of Catherine's and Dominic's who is just too good, with a helpful assistant in Father Pat, a grumpy housekeeper in Mrs. Tredoni, and a stroke-afflicted monsignor. There are also two police officers, Captain Raymond Beame and Detective Mike Spina, who don't seem to do very much in the novel, though Beame is given a fair amount of weight at his introduction. And then there is the landlord Alfonso, an excessively overweight cat-lover, for whom I just couldn't help but feel pity.

At 179 pages, the read is quick enough to complete in 179 minutes. There is no poetry to the prose, no finely-tuned sentences or clever similes (the only simile to stand out actually made me laugh: a character is stabbed and "stared at the gray fat curling back like the lips of an oversized vagina" p.169). While I wasn't expecting Faulkner, I would have been happy with John Coyne, who did a great job novelizing The Legacy, another forgotten horror film of the 1970s. I was disappointed with Lauria's elementary style, the overused adverbs (everything is said gently, or soothingly, or angrily, or sternly...) and the terrible concept of point of view. In terms of point of view, the novelization is disorganized and completely nonsensical. Not only are we jarringly hoisted from one person's thoughts to another, the thoughts themselves are often completely foreign to the owner. The vagina simile, for instance, is not a comparison that particular character can be comfortably associated with. At the beginning, the good daughter Karen sees her sister's face "grinning like a succubus," something not possibly associated with this innocent ten year-old's mind. The author was clearly thinking of effect on an adult reader rather than what might truly flash through the character's mind, so that all the players become a little too foggy and generic.

Plot-wise, I managed to pick out the true culprit early on, mostly because of a single sentence that appeared out-of-place, as though the author decided that he should give the reader a clue and maybe I'll stick it right about...(eyes close and finger twirling above the pages)...here! I'm assuming the movie is more subtle.

Overall the novel reads like a clear-cut and straightforward novelization, complete with stage directions (Dominic walked across the room, looked at the chair and sat down). There are occasional attempts at delineating thought, at describing the priest's or the mother's guilt, or to illustrate a character's back-story which is most likely the author's own invention rather than something borrowed directly from the script (this is guesswork on my part since I haven't seen the film). These moments are awkward and end up slowing the prose which is otherwise descriptive and physically vivid, the author trying to literally translate the on-screen action.

As one hand is now slowly moving over to my black and grey mouse in order to gently click on the orange "PUBLISH POST" icon...

The Outer Limits (1963): The Architects of Fear

2011-07-28T00:25:00.007-04:00

"The Architects of Fear." (S1E3) First aired 30 September 1963. Directed by Byron Haskin. Written by Meyer Dolinsky. Starring Robert Culp, Geraldine Brooks, Leonard Stone and Martin Wolfson. 8/10

In the hopes of preventing an eventual nuclear attack, a group of American scientists develops a plan to unite all nations by creating a common, external threat. They set out to biologically transform one of the men into an alien creature, modelling it after a creature captured from Theta. A mock saucer landing is to be staged, with the creature attacking a United Nations gathering, to be taken down by the defending humans. For the plan to be carried out successfully, the person selected for transformation must ultimately die.

The chosen candidate, selected by lot, is physicist Dr. Alan Leighton. The main complication, aside from the biological difficulties in carrying out the mutation, is that Leighton is happily married. Moreover, soon after being selected, he learns that his wife, believed to have been barren due to a murmuring heart, is pregnant.

The (mad) scientific plot to save the world is a great concept. For one thing, the "mad scientists" are, unlike standard mad scientists, trying to unselfishly save Earth rather than destroy it. The idea of transforming a man into an altogether different, alien being is fascinating, and the progression by which this is achieved in the episode is great to watch. Aside from cold, rational science, there is also the inherent moral considerations, mainly, how can a small group of men toy around with the people of the world and place them at risk? The moral consideration that the episode elects to focus on is quite simple: these men have decided to end the life of a fellow human being, and seem unaware of consequences to those he loves.

This last point is where the episode proves most effective. Leighton's loving wife Yvette is, as expected, devastated by her husband's death. Her grieving is solitary, and she is even dismissed by her husband's colleagues who push her away, and would rather focus on the delicate series of operations they must perform. The most powerful scene is not the moment of alien attack, or even the final instant when [spoiler] Yvette learns that the creature is her husband, but the scene when she appears at the lab to gather her husband's belongings. The sequence cuts from the final stages of the complex operation to Yvette. While she is grieving her husband's death, he is in the next room being made un-human, essentially being killed by his colleagues. When she is done crying in Leighton's office and steps out into the hall, the scientists have just completed the transformation and have also stepped out, pushing the stretcher carrying Leighton's body. Yvette and the men look at one another, and it is implied that she suspects what lies beneath the sheet of the stretcher. The personal crisis is proven to be sometimes greater than the international.

Again some solid performances, with Robert Culp in his first of three lead Outer Limits appearances, Geraldine Brooks is superb as Yvette and essentially steals the show, and Leonard Stone is great as scientist and friend Dr. Phillip Gainer. Directed by Byron Haskin, his second Outer Limits effort immediately after "The Hundred Days of the Dragon," who once again helps produce a patient story focusing on human elements brought together by a brief climax. The climax in this story is fully integrated with the thematic considerations, more so than with "Dragon," since the death of Leighton is what ultimately provides the plot with pure tragedy. As sentimental as the death scene might appear, it is more the powerful it, rather than weakened by it. This was the first of three Outer Limits episodes written by Meyer Dolinsky, who wrote for a variety of shows over twenty-five years, including two for Science Fiction Theatre (1956), four for Lock-Up (1960), two for The Invaders (1967) and one for Star Trek ("Plato's Stepchildren," that controversial episode that featured the first interracial kiss on western television).

And of course there's the alien. Very well conceived, the creature was evidently considered too frightening for prime time (read a summary on censorship on wikipedia). The creature holds up to today's viewer, not because of its realism, but because of the episode's involving morality, as well as the slow progression of creation, allowing the viewer glimpses of what to expect. It is early 60s make-up and costume, and the eyes look artificial to our eyes, and proves that good dramatic television transcends our need for eye candy and unnecessary violence.

The Outer Limits (1963): The Hundred Days of the Dragon

2011-07-20T23:43:00.003-04:00

"The Hundred Days of the Dragon." (S1E2) First aired 23 September 1963. Directed by Byron Haskin. Written by Allan Balter and Robert Mintz. Starring Sidney Blackmer, Phillip Pine, Joan Camden, Nancy Rennick, Mark Roberts, Aki Aleong, Richard Loo, Bert Remsen and James Hong. 9/10

The government of an unnamed Asian country south of Mongolia (in other words, China) has developed a remarkable spying technique: the ability to impersonate any man through physical alteration. This alteration has little to do with surgery, and instead relies on the injection of a drug that makes a person's skin malleable, and like clay can then be sculpted. Add voice training, character impersonation, and the best possible infiltration through body snatching can be achieved.

The shady government's intended target for replacement is William Lyons Selby, the leading candidate for President of the United States. Successfully infiltrating the White House in the guise of President Selby, the shady government can soon put into play its plan for world domination. First by withdrawing American fleets from eastern waters, and then by imitating other members of office, primarily the principled and suspicious Vice President and dear friend of Selby's, Ted Pearson.

"The Hundred Days of the Dragon" is an exceptional piece of Cold War paranoia, reminiscent of the body snatching in Don Siegel's Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956). Aside from Cold War fears, and even threats of all-out war, the episode is a truly chilling piece of dramatic suspense. Incredibly well filmed, with a great script and patient sequencing, this could have been worked into a good film, with an additional half-hour to play out an extended finish.

[Spoiler.] The sudden and somewhat flat ending is the only weak point, yet with such a strong overall production the ending is only part of the whole, rather than what it culminates into. I would not ask for a massive climactic chase scene, but a more involved way of outing the criminals. Yes, the public face peeling moment is fantastic, but the lead-up is just too convenient. At the same time, had the script covered a broader and longer ending sequence, we would have lost the great pacing of the rest of the episode.

The episode was directed by Berkley graduate and former cartoonist Byron Haskin, the man behind the camera for the 1953 H. G. Wells adaptation of War of the Worlds, 1954's The Naked Jungle (adaptation of the Carl Stephenson story "Leiningen versus the Ants"), and a total of six Outer Limits episodes. Haskin combines talents with cinematographer Conrad L. Hall (who will go on to work on some great films) to deliver a truly taught, visually compelling, atmospheric piece of TV cinema. There are shadows and blinking lights everywhere, dark plant shadows reflected against white walls, and elegantly decorated rooms thrown into darkness. Low camera angles and shots peering in from behind objects, like desk lamps and plants, even peeping through doors, enhance the feeling of spying and being spied upon. Claustrophobia and paranoia are evident in nearly every frame. The visuals are necessary, especially for a script with important sequences wholly absent of dialogue.

The plot progression is played out patiently. The opening which explains the fantastic premise is given time to develop, and because of the unique and far-fetched idea, it is always compelling. The scene in which our imposter takes over the President's form is slow, patient and methodical, a lengthy scene made tenser with the lack of dialogue and the good, subdued TV music with the hint of oriental sound. There are many low shots here as we watch our communist tread across the carpeted hotel floor. The shooting of the president is cold and sudden, part of the plan, and effective still in this decade.

Special effects of 1963 prove yet again to be innovative and to hold up to the test of time. It is obvious that the faces being molded are made of clay, yet the effect of watching fingers dragging forcefully across a man's face is still quite powerful, especially when the eyebrows get pulled and the nose gets mashed. There is no silly alien in this episode, yet the alien unknown is still prevalent, and when that alien is human, the stakes are somehow higher. There is a small goof in the opening sequence, however. We learn that both Selby and the imposter have the third finger of their left hand missing, and yet when the imposter is placing the face mold over his face, the camera acting as the imposter's eyes, that third finger is clearly intact. Likely the hand doesn't even belong to the actor, and might even be Haskin's own. Throughout the episode it is clear that Blackmer himself has all his fingers intact, and that when the missing finger is prominent, it is obvious that the finger is simply taped down to look like a stub. A fat stub.

Sixty days after the episode featuring the murder of a US president is aired, on November 22nd, President John F. Kennedy is assassinated. Technically, though, Selby is not yet president when he is shot.

Longtime character actor Sidney Blackmer is excellent as the charming President Selby, and as the imposter pretending to be the charming President Selby. His use of eye and mouth motions to both intensify the charade and illuminate the characters' (particularly the imposter's) inner thoughts and feelings is fantastic. I remember Blackmer best in the excellent AHP episode "Don't Come Back Alive" (S1E4). Phillip Pine is just as good as the conscience-prone and suspicious friend and VP Pearson, with strong support from the rest of the cast.

Anthology Cast Notes (other TV anthology appearances):

Sidney Blackmer. Suspense: "Post Mortem" (S1E9) & "This Is Your Confession" parts 1 and 2 (S3E52); Tales of Tomorrow: "The Dark Angel" (S1E8); Climax!: "Flame-Out in T-6" (S2E30) & "Scream in Silence" (S4E13); Thriller: "The Premature burial" (S2E3); Alfred Hitchcock Presents: "Don't Come Back Alive" (S1E4) & "The Faith of Aaron Menefee" (S7E17).

Phillip Pine. Tales of Tomorrow: "Plague from Space" (S1E30) & "The Bitter Storm" (S2E17); Science Fiction Theatre: "Before the Beginning" (S1E34); Twilight Zone, "The Four of Us Are Dying" (S1E13) & "The Incredible World of Horace Ford" (S4E14); Alfred Hitchcock Presents: "The Safe Place" (S3E36); One Step Beyond: "Where Are They?" (S1E12); Kraft Mystery Theatre: "The Problem in Cell Block 13" (S2E8); Ghost Story: "The Ghost of Potter's Field (S1E21). Also The Invaders, Star Trek and over a hundred different shows.

Nancy Rennick. Twilight Zone: "The After Hours" (S1E34) & "The Odyssey of Flight 33" (S2E18).

Mark Roberts. Suspense: "I'm No Hero" (S2E41) & "Wisteria Cottage" (S2E42).

Bert Remsen. Suspense: "The Moving Target" (S5E4), Alfred Hitchcock Presents: "The Throwback" (S6E20), "Gratitude" (S6E28), "Services Rendered" (S7E10), "The Right Kind of Medicine" (S7E11); Alfred Hitchcock Hour: "Annabel" (S1E7)

Aki Aleong. Outer Limits: "Expanding Human" (S2E4).

James Hong. One Step Beyond: "House of the Dead" (S2E37); Tales from the Darkside: "It All Comes Out in the Wash" (S1E10). Also Wonder Woman, War of the Worlds, The X-Files & countless others.

The Outer Limits (1963): The Galaxy Being

2011-07-15T12:42:00.009-04:00

[Edit: Mr. Cliff Robertson (1923-2011), thank you for all the great work.]

I will not be providing an overview since this is one series that was well documented and researched. Wikipedia has summaries, cast notes and interesting production information. The David J. Schow and Jeffrey Franzen companion is exhaustive, so I'm given to understand. (I have not read it and do not have a copy, though will try to nab one.)

"The Galaxy Being." (S1E1) First aired 16 September 1963. Directed and written by Leslie Stevens. Starring Cliff Robertson, Lee Philips, Jacqueline Scott, and Burt Metcalfe. 7/10

Owner of a small, local mainstream radio station, Alan Maxwell has been usurping the station's power after picking up an odd signal. By creating a series of radio waves that can emit three-dimensional images, he is able to give form to the originator of the broadcasts: an exploratory alien from another world. Like Maxwell, this being is taking part in the communication illegally, for while Max is acting against contracts with his sponsors by diminishing the station's broadcast range, the alien is communicating with Earth, an act forbidden to his people. These wise aliens are aware of Earth's destructive potential, yet this particular one believes in the benefits of sharing and exploration.

[Minor spoiler] Maxwell leaves the station to attend a social event in his honour, as does his brother, DJ Gene "Buddy" Maxwell. Replacing Gene for the evening is young and ambitious Eddie Phillips, who raises the power levels to the transmitter so he can be heard in the distant, foreign land of Canada (also inhabited by wise, exploratory aliens). Through his benevolent wish of sharing some good American music with Canadians, Phillips essentially overloads the electromagnetic field that is generating the alien's form and keeping it safely locked away, and the poor exploratory galaxy being is magica--I mean, scientifically transported Earth. It leaves the station and begins to wreak havoc on the small, unsuspecting town, but not through any form of maliciousness, rather because of his natural radiation. What will the poor, destructive humans do? (He should have materialized in Canada; the army is not as massive.)

[Major spoiler] After wreaking some havoc, the police appear, and are soon followed by the military, who show up with their arsenal and start shooting, nearly Killing Maxwell's wife, Carol. The alien tells them to go home and "give thought to the mysteries of the universe," after which he de-materializes, but since the aliens do not experience death, his fate is unknown.

Written and directed by series creator Leslie Stevens, "The Galaxy Being" is a strong entry into the series. Stevens's background included stage and Broadway work, as well as scripting many teleplays for the popular Playhouse 90. It is superbly scripted, patiently detailing the relationship troubles between Maxwell and Carol, and appropriately sympathetic with Carol rather than the neglectful hero amateur scientist. Even minor characters are well developed, from Maxwell's brother to the young DJ, as is the alien creature.

This episode is a great example of a successful hour-long anthology teleplay, showing patience, care in development and combining elements of family drama, competent 1963 science, and even some horror (the standoff a little reminiscent of many early sci-fi films, such as The Day the Earth Stood Still, but of course on a smaller scale). The episode's production budget of $213,000 (David J. Schow & Jeffrey Franzen, The Outer Limits: The Official Companion, as quoted on Wikipedia) was probably generous for a TV episode, and well spent, with varied sets, a strong cast and nice camera work. Except maybe for that scene when our wise alien is walking the streets and the camera acts as his eyes; the lights behind the camera cast some unfortunate shadows on the ground). My favourite scene is when the alien enters a pawn shop, perhaps looking for a souvenir, and curiously handling some objects, at one point peers through a pair of binoculars that magnify his radiation glow. Clever and humourous stuff.

The special effects are 1963, and yet in this case still effective, aided by the black and white and overall slick look of the episode. Cliff Robertson is great as Maxwell, and the always reliable Jacqueline Scott is superb as Carol (she did great work on two episodes of Planet of the Apes). Leslie Stevens provided the voice of the alien, and proves to be not only a fine writer and director, but a good voice performer.

Twilight Zone (2002): Overview and episodes 1 through 6

2011-07-05T10:52:00.002-04:00

This is the second attempt at reviving Rod Serling's groundbreaking The Twilight Zone (1959-1964). While some episodes do maintain the spirit of the original, by focusing primarily on character, character development, and/or on some element of human nature, a number of episodes focus on their science fiction, fantasy or horror elements rather than on character or theme/morals. While these episodes might not necessarily be bad, some are even quite good, they are not necessarily TZ material. Examples of this are the good episode "The Pool Guy" (S1E9) which is more in line with The Outer Limits, or the terrible "The Harsh Mistress" (S1E9) which is more suited to Friday the 13th.

A number of experienced TV directors were involved in many of the episodes. This includes veteran Allan Kroeker (3 episodes), who had directed an episode of the 1980s TZ as well the season finales of three different Star Trek series (DS9, Voyageur, Enterprise), and the always pleasant actor, writer and director Bob Balaban (2 episodes), who directed the series pilot for Tales from the Darkside. Other long-time TV directors include John T. Kretchmer (5 episodes), Suicide Kings director Peter O'Fallon (2 episodes), and Brad Turner (4 episodes), who helmed a 1980 TZ episode while a directing rookie, and who has filmed a large portion of 24, along with ST:DS9, Stargate and its spin-offs, and an impressive seventeen episodes of The Outer Limits (1995).

The second season of the original TZ began a trend of presenting Rod Ser ling on-screen for the episode introductions. That same concept was borrowed here, hiring the talented Forest Whitaker as host. Whitaker was unfortunately not a great host, yet I would blame this not on the actor, but on production. While Serling was often filmed on set, sometimes filmed post production with a blurry camera pan making it appear he was amid the action, Whitaker was pasted onto the screen, photoshopped if you will, sometimes a little too obviously. Particularly during rain, grasping a useless umbrella. Likely his ultra brief intros were filmed in a studio over the course of a day or two, and the effect comes across as cheap. Of course times are different, and while Serling was fully invested in TZ, Whitaker was an employee and obviously wasn't expected to be on set. Moreover, writing for the host post was not done with Whitaker in mind, but rather the gruff, oddly eloquent and aggressively charismatic chimney that was Serling. Whitaker sounds too gentle quoting lines like "Chalk one up for the good guy," (S1E10) whereas phrases like these came off of Serling's tongue so naturally that they never felt written. Whitaker should have been considered more, and the intros and episodes would have been more effective as a result. I am glad that a talented black actor was hired to fill Serling's shoes, since the racial aspect is appropriate, in line with TZ philosophy, and would have greatly pleased TZ's creator.

In short, the 2002 Twilight Zone need not have been The Twilight Zone, but another anthology series of the fantastic. Mixed like most such series, it did not have its own consistent and unique feel that the original TZ, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Tales from the Darkside or Friday the 13th had, likely because too many industry hands were involved so it was no particular group's personal investment. There there were nonetheless a number of truly great episodes that are worth a watch, and the show should have been given a second season.

"Evergreen." (S1E1) First aired 18 September 2002. Directed by Allan Kroeker. Written by Jill E. Blotevogel. Starring Amber Tamblyn, Jesse Moss and Chantal Conlin. 4/10

"Meet the Winslows. A family searching for a way to control their troubled teen. How far they're willing to go will take them to a gated community who's address can only be found [dramatic pause] in the Twilight Zone."

There is a problem with the revival opener: it's not the family that wishes to control the troubled teen, but the parents. It would have been accurate to say that "a couple," since the troubled teen herself, as well as her clean-cut little sister, are just fine with the way she is.

The Winslow family moves into the gated community of Evergreen in the hopes of transforming their rebellious daughter Jenna into a respectful community kid. Yet Evergreen is creepy, a conformist society where nearly everyone dresses alike. And the sign on the gate reads:

"EVERGREEN ESTATES
Our children are our greatest resource"

which of course made me wonder if Jenna would become part of the weekend community barbecue, or perhaps used to fire up the gas stove or the car's engine. Resource is such an inclusive word. This immediate speculation is telling of how generic the concept has become, the utopian community that reveals itself to be willing to sacrifice its most deviant members for the good of the whole. Recently an episode of the Mick Garris creation Fear Itself, titled "Community," featured the same basic idea. The most recognizable dark community is probably from Ira Levin's The Stepford Wives, which, though dated, is nonetheless a good read.

The first episode of the new Twilight Zone is a "safe" one, an attempt to find fresh viewers while bringing in those adamantly faithful to the original by maintaining elements of the original show, such as the twist ending and, well, maybe only the twist ending. Everything about the episode is generic, from the basic premise to the story-line, the dialogue and stock characters, some of whom are completely non-descript, and you wonder why they are even there. They are there simply for plot progression purposes, of course, so that we can be guided to that final twist. Sadly, everything is molded toward that ending, conscious of the final great reveal, which is, truth be told, not at all spectacular. Whether or not we figure out exactly what makes children such great community resources really doesn't matter, because you have an idea of the gist of it all, and that inkling alone removes any shock or sense of satisfaction.

This is the first of three TZ episodes directed by longtime television director Allan Kro eker, who also directed one of the 1980s TZ episodes and might have been hired due to that link. Kroeker certainly cannot be blamed for the weak episode. Amber Tamblyn is fine as the rebel Jenna, but the role is so thinly written that a doorknob would have performed just as well. The gated community is pretty, very green, so at least we're offered something worth looking at.

"One Night at the Mercy." (S1E2) First aired 18 September 2002. Directed by Peter O'Fallon. Written by Christopher Mack. Starring Jason Alexander, Tyler Christopher Lynda Boyd and a pretty red rose. 7/10

His second day on the job, ER Doctor Jay Ferguson first barely saves a life, then encounters Death. An average looking man is brought to the hospital as a suicide attempt, having hung for twenty-two hours, and introduces himself as Death. Well, it turns out that Death is depressed due to the fact that he is responsible for killing everyone. Yes, every single person since persons existed. Talk about work-related stress. Unbelieving, Dr. Jay is confounded when the morning paper lists no obituaries because nobody has died that dead. Death has given up, quit his position and refuses to kill anyone else.

"One Night at the Mercy" is a surprisingly good episode. It combines ghost-like chills with a touch of humour, and its plot is driven by its theme. Unlike its predecessor "Evergreen," this episode is true to the original TZ concept, of dealing with issues affecting humanity and of individual sacrifice. It is also well written and directed, with some nice dim cinematography that adds the element of classic ghost story. The late night, power-disrupted hospital atmosphere is a nice touch. Performances are strong, with Tyler Christopher as Jay and Seinfeld's George Costanza Jason Alexander is excellent as Death, not simply adding a touch of humour to the role, but maintaining the depth of its crisis. Ironically, Christopher is best known for his lengthy stint on the daytime soap General Hospital, a fact most likely in favour of his getting the part. Moreover, before Seinfeld fame, Alexander also appeared in a hospital series, where the lead, played by Elliott Gould, was a Dr. Sheinfeld. This show lasted a single season in 1984-85, was titled E/R, and also featured in its cast George Clooney.

It's also aptly titled: what is the consequence of one night of mercy on humanity? Can death itself be a kind of mercy?

"Shades of Guilt." (S1E3) First aired 18 September 2002. Directed by Perry Lang. Written by Ira Steven Behr. Starring Hill Harper, Vincent Ventresca, Mari Morrow and Barbara Tyson. 5/10

On a rainy night, successful white dude Matt McGreevy is sitting in his car at the light, when a black guys appears, slapping his window and begging to be let inside. Matt freaks, drives off, and looks through his mirror to see the guy getting attacked by three men. It turns out that Matt is an upper-class husband and dog-owner living in a lovely white suburban and corporate world. Wife and friends do little to ease his feelings of guilt, which are enhanced when he learns that the black man was college professor John Woodrell who has published three books. Because this is The Twilight Zone, Matt begins to change, first showing scars such as Woodrell would have received from his beating, and then turning black.

Taken from the annals of the original series, which was a forerunner in anti-racism on TV, "Shades of Guilt" does not have the impact it would have back in the late 1950s and early 1960s. The idea is, of course, still relevant, because racism is, sadly, very much alive sixty years later, only mutated and modernised and, in the case of the suburban corporate landscape, often repressed. The episode means well, but suffers from being too obvious and predictable. The story is reminiscent of the disastrous John Landis production that killed actor Vic Morrow and two children during filming for the Twilight Zone: The Movie. Rather than being a vocal man of many prejudices, however, our protagonist here is an average white guy (as though all "average" white people owned such beautiful homes) whose latent racism comes to the fore. Unfortunately, there are a number of problems with the episode.

For one thing, the episode was made for white people. Matt is a sympathetic character who feels truly guilt for having driven off in a fright, so is not an obvious "bad guy." A risky but likely more convincing show of sympathy would be a true portrayal of the blatant and subtle forms of racism extant in modern society, but instead we have a wrist slapping episode for white people, one that shows Nazi skinheads beating on a suburbanised black man while a bystander white guy is punished. Why were the gang members not shown what it is like to be a visible minority? It would be better to remove one violent aggressor from the streets than to reform an average guy who just happens to be driving by during a racial beating. (Really, driving late at night and some guy starts banging on my car, black or white or orange, I can't imagine how I'd react, and do get that right: it's not an action but a reaction.) Note also that the black man, the good guy here, is a lighter shade of black, psychologically easier for the average white person to sympathise with since he is not as removed racially as a very dark man would appear to be.

TZ magic works in mysterious ways, I suppose, but despite being killed college professor of three books lives to write a fourth, and one upper-middle-class man can live long and prosperous lives while the rest of the world kills each other.

There is another point to ponder. When Matt shows up at the Woodrell's place begging for forgiveness so his life, ultimately, can be saved, Mrs. Woodrell is satisfied to let him get killed when he can't deny that he would have, on that fateful night, saved a white man. Essentially, the message here is that murderous vengeance (albeit in grief) is acceptable. Which brings me away from notions of race to notions of gender. The two lead men in this piece are presented quite sympathetically, and drive away like modern cowboys on horseback off into the horizon. The two lead women, though, are irrationally ruled by emotion. Matt's wife Hilary frustrates him when he tries to show himself up as a bad guy, and nearly kills him when he shows up as black dude John (who doesn't look in the least threatening), while John's wife Clare appears to us in a form of primal, bloodthirsty vengeance; I can almost see the blood dripping from between her teeth.

Of course I'm exaggerating a little, but the seeds are all there, and it's certainly food for thought.

"Dream Lover." (S1E4) First aired 18 September 2002. Directed by Peter O'Fallon. Written by Frederick Rappaport. Starring Shannon Elizabeth, Adrian Pasdar and John Reardon. 5/10

Working on the sequel to his successful graphic novel Sleepless City, Andrew Lomax is struggling, until he receives help from his dream girl, Sondra: a sketch of a beautiful woman he has drawn who has suddenly come to life. Everything is working well, until Sondra begins to flirt with the cable guy, drive into town, and essentially gain some independence.

If you stop to think about this episode, putting the pieces together, there are far too many holes. Andrew Lomax is unsympathetic, and his ridiculous bouts of jealousy quite silly. It also becomes predictable near the end (though certainly not at the beginning) because it becomes evident that is only one way for it to end. The episode is not terrible, as there are some nice camera angles, a nice location, some good initial suspense, and the beautiful Shannon Elizabeth is more than watchable.

The second of two 2002 TZ directed by Peter O'Fallon after the much better "One Night at the Mercy," it's the first of five scripted by Frederick Rappaport.

"Cradle of Darkness." (S1E5) First aired 2 October 2002. Directed by Jean de Segonzac. Written by Kamran Pasha. Starring Katherine Heigl, James Remar, Nancy Sivak and Jillian Fargey. 7/10

Andrea Collins is sent back in time to kill the child who will grow up to be Adolph Hitler. A simple premise, which of course challenges notions of time travel and the consequences of altering past events: should baby Hitler be killed, how can we be certain that an even more horrific crime would not transpire as a result, that an even more horrible person won't then rise to destroy the world? Of course this is all speculation, and time travel stories such as these require a good deal of suspension of logic. Toss the speculation aside, especially considering this is a terrific episode.

What impresses me most here is the quality of production, the gorgeous sets and great cinematography. A larger cast than we normally see in a half-hour episode, everyone does a great job alongside the beautiful Katherine Heigl (Grey's Anatomy) as Collins and the handsome James Remar (Dexter) as the madman's father, Alois Hitler. Supporting cast members do well, including the baby, who performs babyness with natural ease. The accents are inaccurate, inconsistent and even needless, especially since we already accept that they are really speaking German, and that the English is an illusion. Making them have accents is just ridiculous.

I found most interesting the characterization of the Hitler household, and especially of Alois Hitler. A hard, very particular customs official who takes liberties with his female servants. While much of what we know regarding the real Alois is speculation, there are no blatant inaccuracies, and with Remar's solid performance, the character is more dimensional than one would expect in a half-hour slice of historical science-fiction.
The first of two TZ screenplays by Kamran Pasha, who also wrote "To Protect and Serve" (S1E15). Directed by experienced television director Jean de Segonzac, who also directs the next episode, "Night Route," and the straight-to-video Mimic 2, along with many episodes of the various Law & Order series. Writing and direction are both strong.

"Night Route." (S1E6) First aired 2 October 2002. Directed by Jean de Segonzac. Written by Jill E. Blotevogel and Pen Densham. Starring Ione Skye, Dylan Walsh, Nicky Klyne and Emily Perkins. 7/10

Melina Kroner is nearly hit by a car, and soon begins to experience odd episodes, from a city bus seemingly following her to strangers recognising her. She refuses to believe that she has died, unfair since she is happy and soon to be married, and tries to escape that fate. Director Jean de Segonzac's strong follow-up to the (slightly) stronger "Cradle of Darkness" took me by surprise. not only did the end surprise me, but thematically the episode's simple message of live life to the fullest is nicely achieved. The episode plays out like a classic TZ, yet it manages to defy expectation.

A strong performance by Ione Skye is a plus, with good back up from Dylan Walsh (Nip/Tuck) as husband-to-be Adam. It's also nice to see some talented Canadians even though in bit parts, such as Emily Perkins, the lead in the great Ginger Snaps, and Nicky Klyne from Battlestar Galactica.

Journal Reviews

2011-07-02T11:01:00.001-04:00

In response to a couple of emails, the journal issues are Exile (Vol 34 #3: Richard Van Camp, Ascher/Strauss, etc.), The Cincinnati Review (Vol 7 #2: Peter Levine, Alexander Lumans, Keith Lee Morris, etc.), Indiana Review (Vol 33 #1: Hilary Leichter, Edward Kelsey Moore, etc.), Riddle Fence (#8: Robert Sternberg, Frank Babics, etc.). Probably in that order, order received. There are many more I've begun but doesn't appear I will soon finish. The new Fiction Desk will be out fairly soon, & that will take precedence, since the first was so good.
Thanks for your interest.

Tales from the Darkside Season Four: Episodes 14 through 20

2011-06-27T19:36:00.002-04:00

Season One begins here
Season Two begins here
Season Three begins here
Season Four episodes 1 through 7 appear here
Season Four episodes 8 through 13 appear here

"The Cutty Black Sow." (First aired 8 May 1988) Directed by Richard Glass. Written by Michael McDowell from a story by Thomas F. Monteleone. Starring Huckleberry Fox, Mary Griffin and Paula Trueman. 7/10

Before she dies on All-Hallows-Even, Jamie's Scottish grandmother grumbles about the Cutty Black Sow, that creature that appears on Halloween night to take the soul of a family member in the household that has seen a death. Jamie is the only one who believes her, records her deathbed rantings, and makes preparations to protect the family from the legendary monster. A good, suspenseful episode, but the pacing is just a little uneven and drags at some points. The episode works thanks to good cinematography, the use of darkness, shadows and flickering lights, and thanks to the young actors. The kids are very well cast, Huckleberry Fox as the believing and determined Jamie, and Mary Griffin as his photogenic sister Gloria (who also appeared in the amusing Monsters episode "Parents from Space"). In fact, the kids are so believable as older brother and younger sister that the viewer truly wishes they come to no harm, and this becomes an excellent example of the importance of casting. The episode was also Paula Trueman's final screen appearance; she had a small part in season two episode, "Monsters in My Room." Her performance as the dying grandmother is truly effective. The ending is sort of predictable, but it does not come across predictably, making its final moment quite effective as well.

"Do Not Open This Box." (First aired 15 May 1988) Directed by Jodie Foster. Written by Bob Balaban and Franco Amurri. Starring Eileen Heckart, William LeMassena and Richard B. Shull. 7/10

Unlucky and simple inventor Charles Pennywell accidentally receives a box in the mail containing the inscription "DO NOT OPEN THIS BOX." He wishes to comply, but his wife Rose, a bitter and selfish materialistic woman, assumes there are valuables of some kind within, and promptly disobeys. Well, the box is empty, but the postman soon appears asking for it to be returned, claiming that he would give anything -- ANYTHING -- to have it back. Of course, Mrs. Pennywell takes advantage.

This is a great episode based on a classic scenario, and good writing, direction and acting make for an even-paced, suspenseful story. Directed by multi-talented Jodie Foster, her directorial debut, and co-written by Bob Balaban, director of the series pilot, as well as actor, writer and director of a number of other projects, who was also involved in the production of the excellent Gosford Park. It is clear that special attention went into this episode as it was produced with care, filmed with patience, allowing the actors to act so everything comes across naturally. The set is a nice, cluttered basement, as any inventor's basement should be, and we can even forgive the fact that the postman comes in by the cellar door rather than the front door, where you would think mail is normally delivered. (Of course it is just easier to produce the low budget series by keeping everything as contained as possible.) Eileen Heckart is excellent as Rose, while William LeMassena is super-sympathetic as Charles, and both are well balanced by Richard B. Shull as the unconventional postman.
Now, we can find some fault with the character dynamics. Kind Charles puts up with overbearing Rose, but are Rose's complaints so invalid? She is stuck at home while Charles fails at inventing; perhaps Charles should be husband to his wife, take her out once in a while, pay some attention to her rather than just involve himself with his inventions. Any woman--any person--would become bitter after years of neglect. Poor Rose has been suffering punishment all her life, only to be punished once more. Now, we can also speculate that she has always been this way and manipulated or somehow guilted Charles into marrying her, but there just isn't enough textual evidence to support this. Relationship vagueness aside, a truly fine episode.

"Family Reunion." (First aired 22 May 1988) Directed by Tom Savini. Written by Edithe Swensen. Starring Stephen McHattie, Patricia Tallman, Daniel Terence Kelley and Marilyn Rockafellow. 7/10

"What's behind that door, Mr. Perry?"

Robert Perry is in a rented house with his son Bobby. He's taken Bobby here to keep him safe, locking him up and away from the boy's mother. The thing is, Bobby is a werewolf, and Robert is worried he'll harm his own mother. But mother Janice has found them, and with the help of a social worker is determined to get her boy back.

Finally Edithe Swensen gets it right; her final of ten Darkside scripts, which includes some of the series' lower points, this one packs a punch. Though I wouldn't give Ms. Swensen credit for its impact; Tom Savini's make-up and direction are excellent, as is busy Nova Scotian actor Stephen McHattie's performance as protective father Robert Perry. The other performances are strong as well, with Marilyn Rockafellow doing a great job in the small part as family services employee Trudy.

There are so many small things that make this episode so much fun to watch. Savini is not only great at doing make-up, he proves himself to be great at revealing his make-up. We witness Bobby transforming through his shadows against the wall, and we see the creature behind so much darkness, little bits of boy and monster appearing in fragments. We keep getting hints at his wolfish appearance with tricks of light and sharp editing, and yet when we finally see him in full lycanthropic guise, we are not disappointed. The build-up is great without taking away from the final revelation. Savini also adds some nice, self-referential decor to Bobby's room. the boy reads Fangoria #47, the 1985 cover that features Savini's make-up for George A. Romero's Day of the Dead. On the boy's wall is a poster of Romero's 1982 Creepshow, a film not only make-upped by Savini, but that also features him in a cameo role as a garbage collector. There's also a nice transition from the full moon to the boy's face, the moment that confirms our suspicions that he is a werewolf.

Another nice touch is Trudy's ashtray cleaning. When Janice is sitting in her office the first time, Trudy wipes the ashtray her visitor has just crushed a cigarette, though Janice simply lights another. Now despite the nice, nearly unnoticeable moment, there is a continuity error with the same ashtray. When the camera first lights upon the scene, Janice is crushing her cigarette in the tray. The camera then cuts to Trudy, and there is a lit cigarette in the same tray. We then cut back to Janice is holding a fresh, unlit cigarette, which quickly Trudy lights for her. Minor detail, of course. There are more serious problems with the episode though, which are in Swensen's script.

[Spoiler] Janice's interview with Trudy makes the ending too obvious by letting us know she was injured along with Bobby on a trip to Ireland. Though we can also figure it out a little later through Janice's unnatural strength. Now, if Janice is that strong, that desperate to get bobby back and knows where Robert is keeping him hid, why can she not just walk over, do away with hubby and take custody of her little boy? Why does she need Trudy with her? And what is the point of the magistrate? Trudy tells Janice that a magistrate will arrive at the house, and yet it is odd that the magistrate should visit on official business so late at night. Maybe that's a trend in this unnamed town, since Trudy herself in still in her office. When they arrive at the house there is no magistrate, an individual never mentioned again, yet they enter anyway (illegally). So what is the point of that character? It's a way of getting Janice and Trudy to the house during a full moon, and a lazy way at that. Trudy is needed so that we can get some back story from Janice, but the episode would have made more sense if perhaps Janice uses Trudy to find out where they live, since with her strength she can barge into the house at any time. The way the script is pieced together makes for utter silliness, but thanks to Savini's skill, fine acting and great overall production values, it is a great episode.

"Going Native." (First aired 19 June 1988) Directed by Andrew Weiner. Written by Theodore Gershuny from a story by Weiner. Starring mostly Kim Greist, along with John Aprea, Cynthia David, Richard Kuhlman, Pamela Kenny, Alison Sweeney and lots of people in photographs. 8/10

"They have an expression here. Losing... your... mind."

We all feel alienated from time to time, a character says, but she doesn't realise how much this statement relates for Claire. The thing is, Claire is from another world, metaphorically and literally; she cannot relate to others since she comes from another planet. Her mission here is to studying Earth's natives, and at this she is diligent, photographing everything and, to understand us humans better, joining a social group. Members of this group (referred to simply as "Group") gather to express and release emotion, from hurt to rage, in an attempt to better understand themselves and those around them. In an attempt to better function in society. A great way to study human emotion, yet for Claire it also involves a risk.

"Stupid. Stupid. I should not have joined the Group."

A story told through the point of view of an alien living among us for the purpose of studying us has been done before. Immediately I think of that fun Robert Silverberg short story, "The Reality Trip." It is an idea, however, with a lot of promise, and with "Going Native" the idea reaches a pinnacle. Focusing primarily on human emotion, "Going Native" shows us up as primarily emotional creatures, but also portrays the ridiculousness of how we try to rationalize those emotions. Other human elements are touched upon through appalled alien eyes, such as human materialism and the power of media, asking the important question: "Who dictates these images?"

The concept works because the production values are excellent. This is like a short, experimental film by talented, emerging artists, or a successful graduate film project, something willing to take risks and investing fully in its idea. The script by Darkside regular Theodore Gershuny is top-notch, seemingly made up of broken sentences that are nonetheless inter-related. There is dark humour imbedded in these short lines. Group member Lee is pounding on a pillow, yelling at it, hurling insults at it, then stops, short of breath, and Group leader Amy asks, "Are you finished with your wife?" Later Amy says to Claire, "I'd like you to put your mother on the pillow."

There are good visual contrasts. Claire's studio is dark, so dark that details are difficult to make out, while the group meeting area is overly bright, the glare almost painful. (These contrasts made it difficult to capture a decent image for this review, but I so wanted to include one.) Contrast is used also to highlight human inconsistency, as when Claire, having slept with Lee, wonders how someone filled with so much anger can be so tender. Camera angles are great, and the photos Claire takes of everything and everyone are excellent. Sound is well used too, especially as a soundtrack to the studio photography slideshow.

The attractive Kim Greist is great as Claire. Greist is best known as Jill Layton, Jonathan Price's love interest in the excellent Terry Gilliam film Brazil; unfortunately she appears to have abandoned acting somewhere around 2001. Her cold, dry delivery is great, especially when she is trying to pretend emotion as an emotionless being ("YeeeEEESS?"), a difficult thing to pull off. And the way she looks at the people around her, intently and expectantly, like a child and yet looking down on them. Her climactic scene is fantastic, her body language sharp, and her voice work in narrating the episode is also good. John Aprea is good as soap opera actor Lee, delivering his lines well; it helps that his lines are well written as it's evident he is comfortable with them. Even that sleaze Claire picks up at the bar is good in a bit part.

This is the last of the great, unconventional risk-taking Darkside episodes, and from that unique bunch, it is also the best.

"Hush." (First aired 10 July 1988) Directed by Allen Coulter. Written by John Harrison from a story by Zenna Henderson. Starring Nile Lanning, Eric Jason and Bonnie Gallup. 7/10

With her inventor husband out of town, Beth Warren goes out to "a reception down at the high school" (aka to meet her lover), and babysitter Jennifer must take care of lonely, sickly Buddy. Buddy is productive in his loneliness. Learning no doubt from his father, he built a few little machines from household scraps. One of these is a "noise eater," a machine that looks like a run-down vacuum cleaner that is attracted to noise and essentially quiets it. When the machine runs amok, Buddy and Jennifer must be absolutely still, or risk being silenced themselves.

Chase episodes have been attempted for a few shows, and the idea was likely inspired by the Richard Matheson scripted "The Invaders" for The Twilight Zone, an episode almost wholly devoid of dialogue. The chase in "Hush" is inventive, which alone is impressive since chase episodes for any TV series are normally quite dull. It works here because the set up is well established. First off, the two-room space does well in creating a good geographical consistency, and the viewer becomes quickly familiar with the space that we might as well be there with the characters. The characters themselves are sympathetic so we care what happens to them, and the unknown cast is good, especially Bonnie Gallup as mother Beth, whose briefer role in the opening sequence is spot-on, hurried and well delivered. The cast is well directed, with the opening sequence delivered as nearly a single shot, and the choreography is excellent. While Beth getting ready to go out and she and Jennifer are pacing the room, a number of the items are clearly established for the viewer, items that will come into play during the showdown. The episode is well scripted, as we learn a good deal about the family and Beth's husband who never makes an appearance. What the purpose is of having Beth meeting a man while her husband is away (she could be meeting a friend just as easily), but it gives the episode additional colour, realism, and something interesting to notice. Whether any of this was scriptwriter John Harrison's doing or borrowed directly from Zenna Henderson's short story, I can't attest to as I haven't read it, but will hopefully rectify that soon.

Sure the monster doesn't look scary, being little other than a household vacuum cleaner, but the fact that it is household and familiar is the point, the threat within the house become more real. Its snout, of course, is at times too long and, sadly, at times comical. It is also odd that the noise eater doesn't attack Buddy when he first introduces it to Jennifer, but that's a minor detail, though you'd think he'd want to whisper. Shhhhhh...

"Barter." (First aired 17 July 1988) Directed by Christopher T. Welch. Written by Jule Selbo from a story by Lois McMaster Bujold. Starring Jack Carter, Jill Jaress, Michael Santiago and Miguel Alamo. 3/10

(This one could also have been titled "Hush.")

Dedicated housewife Ruthie is being driven around the bend by musician husband Nicky and their son, aspiring drummer Little Nicky. Salesman Klaatzu appears at the door seeking ammonia, for which he offers in trade (hence the title) an instrument that can freeze Little Nicky so that poor Ruthie can work on winning a freezer at an upcoming competition. This episode is a parody of the classic I Love Lucy, where iconic housewife Lucy (Lucille Ball) wishes she were a star, and puts up with bandleader husband Ricky Ricardo (Desi Arnaz) who wants her to be the ideal housewife. The names are nearly identical and they even look (somewhat) alike, and dress (somewhat) alike; Ricky is Cuban and from his (flawed) accent we can assume Nicky is as well; just like Lucy, Ruthie wants fame and attention while Nicky (just like Ricky with his Lucy) wishes she remain a simple housewife. And of course there are the hilarious antics (well, attempted anyway), along with a dash of the Darkside. Unfunny (even that uninspired moment when Ruthie and Nicky sneak in to replace ammonia with bleach wearing... cleaning stuff. Is this a reference to a specific I Love Lucy episode? Even then, was it really necessary?

This was actually a neat idea for television (it was close to the thirty-year anniversary of I Love Lucy), based on a story by Lois McMaster Bujold. It just isn't funny and feels at times too forced, as though everyone involved was trying so hard to be I Love Lucy (Michael Santiago as Desi Arnaz bothered me from the get-go). Sound guy Christopher T. Welch was behind the camera for season two's "The Shrine" (episode 17), a better effort than this, though we can't blame the directing here. The script is lame, the ending is anticlimactic and the acting is overly average, except for Santiago who was likely cast for his physical appearance rather his ability to successfully embody Desi. Moreover, the alien Klaatzu (comedian Jack Carter, who has appeared in the original Alfred Hitchcock Presents and Tales of Tomorrow) fails to be funny as either a 1950s alien or a 1950s salesman.

"Basher Malone." (First aired 24 July 1988) Directed by Anthony Santa Croce. Written by Peter O'Keefe. Starring Vic Tayback, Steve Strong, Marie Denn and Magic Schwarz. 1/10

There exists a darkside, and ample proof is given by the fact that this episode was produced. A "good guy" wrestler is challenged to fight a demon from hell. It turns out that pro wrestling is the devil's tool to lead young, impressionable kids to the road to hell, and our hero Basher Malone is infuriating demon manager Tippy Ryan by being a good role model. This episode was produced at the height of pro wrestling, and good guy wrestler Steve Strong (Steve DiSalvo by birth) is appropriately cast as Basher Malone, except for the fact that he can't act. Strong's lack of acting talent is well accompanied by other terrible performances, with the exception of Vic Tayback as Tippy Ryan in his second Darkside appearance, following "The New Man" (S1E2).

In addition to the poor acting we have an unbelievably, shamelessly bad script by Peter O'Keefe, whose Darkside track record is a poor one, as he was also responsible for the "My Ghostwriter - The Vampire" (S3E14) and the terrible "Let the Games Begin" (S3E21). Worst yet is the new low in horrid 80s TV music. Finally, the episode closes off as a kind of ad for Pepsi Cola, another popular yet horrid item from the 80s. Pepsi paraphernalia appears throughout the series (good advertising for them & no doubt good advertising revenue for the series; while I never liked the stuff I'm pleased it supported Darkside). The only good thing this episode has to offer is that it reveals the true secret of Pepsi Cola: it is the gateway to Hell through its own vending machine.

It is unfortunate that Darkside ended its run - and a strong fourth season - with its all-time weakest episode. The episode even goes so far as to contradict itself: when Tippy hands brass knuckles to his fighter in the middle of a bout, everyone is shocked, yet Malone's mother doesn't hesitate in cheating herself, by dumping cold lemonade on demon fighter Trog's hellishly flaming body, and searching her purse for other cheating tools in helping her son win. So how does one distinguish the "Good Guy" (proudly emblazoned on Malone's shirt) from the demon, since both parties use the same means for their ends. Is it the ends then, and not the means, that determines who we are?

Finally, the episode also generates the most unbelievable idea to ever from Tales from the Darkside: the fighting in pro wrestling is real.

Various Authors: Stories from The Fiction Desk 1 (2011)

2011-06-18T17:08:00.002-04:00

Various Authors: Stories from The Fiction Desk 1, edited by Rob Redman, The Fiction Desk, 2011. 188 pp

There seems to have been a number of new journals appearing over the last little while, literary to genre, Prole to Dark Moon Digest, and many others promising to appear soon. The quality of these journals tend to be a little all over the place, especially when first starting out, attempting to recruit talented writers, uncover good slush, and hopefully pick up a few readers along the way. I like to support new publications and urge the reading and (especially) writing public to do so as well, since a healthy subscription allows for better long-term quality, and, if nothing else, at least survival.

And if it weren't for these new journals, we wouldn't have such excellent books as Various Authors. I have read a number of new and established fiction journals over the past two years, and Various Authors is without hesitation the strongest, most compelling of the group.

Various Authors is the first anthology published by the fine blog The Fiction Desk, by Rob Redman. The book is attractive, more book-like than journal-like, with a nice cover and great, easy-to-read layout. The quarterly's great looks are surpassed by its consistently readable contents. There is not one bad story among the dozen collected here, and at least half are above the average. Of course this can range from one person's taste to another person's, but the variety here is immediately noticeable, and I am pleased that the journal is unafraid to print serious fiction, from short stories to sketches, serious and comedic, along with fantasy and the absurd. It is this variety that is missing in many contemporary journals, especially the most established ones. Journals with broader readership might feel that, since they have wide and loyal readers, they need to cater to the tastes of their perennial subscribers. If the people at The Fiction Desk maintain this level of consistency, I will be a perennial subscriber. Indeed, I am already itching to see issue number two.

As for which is the strongest story of the group, The Fiction Desk offered a generous prize for the best story, as voted by its authors. There was a three-way tie, so book blogger John Self (The Aylum) was brought in to select one of the three, and the prize went to the excellent "Crannock House," by Ben Lyle, which would probably have been my personal second choice.

"Two Buses Away" by May Lynsey. 6/10
This is a character sketch of a young, lethargic man that plays itself out in a triptych of scenes: Gerry on the bus on his way to visit his parents; Gerry at his parents'; Gerry waiting for the bus after having visited his parents. It's a simple and generally underwhelming series of events, but a subtle yet powerful change occurs in its course. While at his parents', Gerry learns that things between his folks are not too healthy and that his mother has moved out, possibly permanently, yet nothing concrete is offered. Permanent or not, this little chip in Gerry's universe alters his attitude and world-view; the world is not as stable and predictable as it may have been for a child. The adult world is unreliable, and Gerry's self-contained bubble has burst. While the most interesting portion of the story is its middle, a very well written scene between son and father, with tight dialogue and an immeasurable weight of tension, the two bookend moments are the ones that illustrate the change in Gerry. It is through his interaction with strangers, commuters specifically, that we note the transformation, for the once seemingly harmless figure in the world have now become potentially deadly.

Though a great little sketch and well written, I would not have chosen it to open the volume, but would have the subtlety nestled between two more "active" stories.

"How to Fall in Love With an Air Hostess" by Harvey Marcus. 5/10
In this humourist piece of self-referential fiction, the author/narrator/protagonist places himself on a train seated not too far from an attractive stewardess (air hostess, if you want to be politically up-to-date), and considers how he should approach her. The goal is, of course, not so simple as love, but a consideration of eternal happiness amid the wasted past, a past enveloped with youthful apathy. The piece is inconsistently funny though the humour is there, and though it evokes some interesting ideas, it only touches upon them, so that thematically it becomes as light and evasive as our protagonist's world-view. While it lacks both the subtlety and depth of the first story, it is nonetheless enjoyable, and a good contrast to the darkly serious opener. Somewhat reminiscent of Lorrie Moore's "How to Become a Writer," though not as funny, nor as subtle or memorable.

"Crannock House" by Ben Lyle. 7/10
At Crannock House boarding school, an alternative education school in rural Scotland, a young teen befriends Mervyn, the new, eccentric Mathematics teacher. More accurately, the teen narrator forces friendship onto the other, a quiet recluse seemingly content with his home-brew cider, crossword puzzles and made-up games.

The story title is misleading: it's not about the school itself, though it at first appears to be, but about the two men, their friendship, and about the notion of friendship itself. It's not a fuzzy friendship story, but rather shows the darker implications and the inherent responsibilities of friendship. Ben Lyle has put together a multi-dimensional story, at times comic, always vivid, and finally powerfully tragic. Amid these vast dimensions are smaller, creative details, such as the word games and how "nutant" and "beriberi" get incorporated incorporated into the text. An excellent work, and deserving of the prize for Various Authors's best story.

"Rex" by John Wallace. 7/10
Rex's wife has been grieving now for some time since the loss of her beloved dog, so Rex is surprised when he hears playful voices and laughter coming from the bedroom. He enters the room to see her with a dog, as we expect, but surprisingly (and a great surprise it is) it's not a dog so much as some guy in a dog suit. Rex soon learns the dog, William, is an actor (a method actor, I suppose) who takes his role as beloved household pet very seriously, so seriously he is even willing to eat dog food. Well, feeling that it would be best not to disappoint his wife, Rex decides to play along along her wounds begin to heal.

"Rex" is a truly enjoyable story, not just for its quirky fun and originality, but the idea of how far one must go to keep up appearances becomes pleasantly crazed. The little complication that Rex never cared for dogs is a nice touch, and the story is not so much about Sylvia's coming to terms with losing her companion, but about Rex having to face and deal with glitches in their relationship. While he appears to want what is best for his wife, Rex is actually thinking only of himself. Fairly passive and non-confrontational, Rex takes advantage of the advantages of the situation, learning from William his wife's secrets (since people talk to their dogs more openly than to their spouses) rather than learning to listen and understand his partner's needs. He is disinterested in her interest in dogs, and it's likely she wants a companion because Rex himself is so withdrawn. Indeed, he is happy whenever William informs him that she wants to be alone, taking advantage by having drinks with the guys or simply walking by himself in the park (perhaps the same park where Sylvia takes William to share her secrets with). Of course this is all speculation since little detail is even offered about their past and the evolution of their relationship, but there is a reason why the story is titled "Rex" instead of "William," "Sylvia" or something silly like "Dog Day Afternoon"; the story is about the guy and not the grieving process, and the guy's name, Rex, is a name common to dogs, while as the dog's name, "William," is not only common to human males, but generally evokes the image of a decent man (as opposed to something like, say, "Butch").

"The Puzzle" by Alex Cameron. 5/10
An elderly stroke victim bound to a wheelchair in a retirement home is surprised when a stranger leaves him a small package. His attending nurse, Bertha, opens the package to reveal a jigsaw puzzle, and helps him to assemble it. Once involved in the art world through shady means, secrets from the man's past come back to challenge him.

A quiet narrative, and though well written I did not find it as engaging as the other stories. Much of the back-story is told through exposition, and the ending is just too dramatic and overdone for something so quiet, especially that final paragraph. Yet the prose is good, visually precise and, ending aside, smooth and consistent.

"Dave Tough's Luck" by Matthew Licht. 6/10
A former drummer turned drumming teacher takes on a new student, Andy Shrover. Andy is the member of a large, musically talented family, yet through a birthing accident was left brain damaged. Drumming instructor soon discovers, however, that little Andy has talents of his own, and does not merely ape what he hears. Through his idol, the great Dave Tough, our narrator tells of his attempts to bring Andy's talents to light, but the parents won't listen, especially since we're talking noisy drums rather than classy violins. Andy, like the drum, is society's perceived "retard."

I liked the story well enough, with its interesting ideas and energetic writing, the fragmented sentences that often sound like percussions themselves. The structure, however, could have used some tuning. For such a short story the preamble is too long and I was waiting and waiting for the story to start. To me it started at the line, "The first time I saw Andy, he had a kooky smile stretched over his entire face," and I wondered why the author didn't start it here, fitting in the necessary preamble info later and doing away with padding. The title, however, is quite neat, evoking the expression "Tough luck!"

"Assassination Scene" by Jason Atkinson. 7/10
"A government job means that you are set for life... if you suddenly fade out... They'll find a little corner for you in the complex mechanism and there you will sit until retirement."

Middle-aged Washington DC government employee Daniel is about to encounter change. In fact, he will soon be assassinated. When he calls young rookie employee Sadie to his office to warn her that it has become apparent that she is the first to leave for the day, he learns that she has been busy directing a play: William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Well, it turns out they need some smaller roles filled, and Daniel might do. In fact, when he proves to be a good reader, Sadie asks him to try out for the part of main man Caesar himself (though of course we all know that Caesar is not the star of Shakespeare's play, but a middling character, along the lines of the ghost of King Hamlet). This is a simple story with a simple lesson, yet well written with a great last line. The tone and language is distant, very formal, like Daniel himself, and like Daniel it wants to be more. The interview with Sadie is well constructed, with Daniel fighting between wanting to be a part of her project, and his official government side creeping in to warn him it is not a good idea. The assassination is, of course, a metaphor, a symbolic death, a removal from the corner Daniel has been shuffled into.

"Celia and Harold" by Patrick Whittaker. 8/10
As a result of re-routing of train lines, a man finds himself waiting for a transfer in the village of Midwick. While biding his time at the local pub, a resident barfly warns him to leave for his own good. What seems like an ordinary story premise soon becomes quite original, so original and engaging that I don't wish to discuss it anymore for fear of removing any of its inherent suspense for other readers. Hopefully this story will re-surface in another anthology over the next couple of years as it needs a wider audience. "Celia and Howard" is my vote for the best Various Authors story.

[Spoiler: Elements of fantasy and literature combine for a tight piece that can be read on many levels, from an unusual yet horrific form of apocalyptic plague, to a story about a man finding his place in the world. Our narrator is unnamed and, in many ways, unformed; he is a professional working in the city and living in its outskirts. A modern English everyman. What he finds in Midwick (perhaps named in homage to John Wyndham's Midwich) is the opportunity to begin anew, to leave his generic work and self behind, and head out, no longer alone, to redefine himself. The story's sense of the absurd is wonderfully rendered in a straightforward, realistic tone, that the fantastic is almost ordinary. Reminiscent of the stories of the neglected John Keefauver.]

"All I Want" by Charles Lambert. 7/10
While teaching English in beautiful Italy, a pair of roommates befriend a local couple, and spend a weekend at their house on Lake Garda. Teddy is interested in the woman, Anna, imagining a wealthy woman who could spoil any man with material wealth, while Simon the narrator is interested in Luigi, a somewhat dark, even mysterious traditional Italian man who carries a gun in his suitcase. Yet another well written story, with some great character portrayals, excellent dialogue, and a story filled with fine contrasts and disturbingly repressed emotions.

"A Covering of Leaves" by Danny Rhodes. 6/10
Train station employee Webster is at work following a tragic train wreck. He is watching the sparse crowds, the ample leaves that he is sweeping from the track points, the incessant rain, and the cars abandoned in the parking lot. These cars, he speculates, belong to victims of the wreck, and watches as one by one they are claimed, except for the little red Nissan parked at the far corner. A sad sight indeed, until one day the Nissan drives away... all by itself, and Webster quickly pursues. An eloquent fantasy dealing with grief and loss, loss of people as well as places. The loss of one's past is also affected, especially when attached to memories of those we have loved. A nice, quiet little story.

"Sometimes the Only Way Out Is in" by Ben Cheetham. 5/10
Ten year-old Finn runs away from from home as his mum lies in a drug-induced stupor and the social worker has come to (re)claim him. He decides to seek out his dad, and from a family trip a few years ago, he believes dad is living in Wales, so he heads off on foot. Meanwhile, Finn has a voice in his head named Zack who is more mature and rational than he, so I suppose they both head off. Frightening things happen in a the darker edge of town as some shady figures appear in Finn's path. This story, the longest in the collection, failed to grip me. I thought it well written and interesting enough, but I read it slowly, a couple of times checking to see how many pages were left, and all in all, it left me unsatisfied. The problem for me was that the story never seemed to have any concrete direction, that it just wandered aimlessly, and the fact that a ten year-old with a voice in his head had more purpose than his narrative is indicative of its weaker points. Why am I reading this? I wondered, and as soon as I was done I stopped wondering about the story altogether. Moreover, I did not care for the title.

"Nativity" by Adrian Stumpp. 6/10
Adrian Stumpp's "Nativity" begins as a kind of rant, the kind of rant on middle-class suburban life and the dark and looming reality of fatherhood a stand-up comic might deliver. Only, the story is not terribly funny, the writing stiff in that attempt to generate comedy through the serious learned language of an academic. Yet the narrator of this rant, thirty-five year-old Dr. Edward Devereaux, is an academic, and the more we learn about him, the more the ungrounded opening begins to make sense. The narrative swerves from ranting to a portrait of Devereaux's upbringing, so that we can understand where his anxieties come from. Despite the almost irritating beginning, stemmed from the fact that the narrator came across as whiny and selfish, "Nativity" is a powerful story about inherent family ties, responsibility, faith in one's self, and so many other little interwoven things that culminate quite nicely.

Tales from the Darkside Season Four: Episodes 8 through 13

2011-06-12T23:50:00.003-04:00

Season One begins here
Season Two begins here
Season three begins here
Season four episodes 1 through 7 appear here
Season four episodes 14 through 20 appear here

"Seymourlama." (First aired 15 November 1987) Directed by Bruce Dolin. Written by Harvey Jacobs & Donald Wollner, from a story by Jacobs. Starring Divine, J.D. Roth, Kathleen Doyle, David Gale and Cathy Lipinski. 4/10

(The title reminded me of a popular joke from The Simpsons.)

On a windy, wintry night, the Strands are at home arguing: father Henry, baseball card collector, is ashamed of studious son Seymour, who likes to knit, while mother Ellen tries to keep the peace. Well, there is a knock at the door and in barge Ambassador Chia Fung and his assistant Madame Wu claiming that Seymour is the next Llama of Lo Pu. Within minutes Seymour is no longer the shy and studious son, but, after finally getting, uhhh... rolled in the hay (off camera and implied only, of course), he immediately seizes the newly-offered power and uses the opportunity to get back at dad. From the same pair that brought us season four's sixth episode, "The Grave Robber," this one is also an almost okay comedic script with passable performances. Divine is dragless and David Gale is amusing in that knitted sweater.

"Sorry, Right Number." (First aired 22 November 1987) Directed by John Harrison. Written by Stephen King. Starring Deborah Harmon, Arthur Taxier, and some others. 7/10

This is the second of two Darkside stories involving Stephen King. The first was an adaptation of his short story "Word Processor of the Gods" (Season One, episode eight), while "Sorry, Right Number" is an original teleplay, and by far the superior of the two. Like many King stories, this one deals with a family in the midst of crisis, in which father is a writer and the loving couple have three children. Unlike most of these stories, the protagonist here is the mother. Katie Wiederman is on the phone with her sister Lois when the other line rings and there is a woman sobbing at the other end, yet after a few phrase snippets, the caller hangs up. Katie is certain the call was intended for her, and that it came from a distraught family member. She takes it upon herself, and her husband Bill, to figure out who tried to make that call.

Genuinely suspenseful, the script is tight and fluid, and Deborah Harmon offers a great performance as Katie, while Arthur Taxier looks a little like King (only taller) as über successful horror author Bill Wiederman. (Long-time TV actor Taxier played Skelly on the movie pilot of the 1985 Alfred Hitchcock Presents, in the segment remake of Henry Slesar's "Incident in a Small Jail.") Strong chemistry between the leads makes it easy to believe they have been together a long time, and good interaction with the children adds to the effect. Sure we can figure out the ending before the great reveal, but not as early as in most Darksides; in fact, I didn't catch on until near the end, though many will be quicker than me. (This delay on my part is testament of how absorbed I was while watching.) Despite the somewhat predictability, King did an excellent job with this one, enhanced by the strong direction of John Harrison, the man behind a mixed batch of Darkside episodes, not to mention some terrible music. The music in this one sounds almost as though it were trying to be playful, which is quite effective.

Interestingly, the movie Bill Wiederman is taping for his son, the one based on his first novel, Spider's Kiss, is actually George A. Romero's own excellent Dawn of the Dead. Remember, Romero was the producer of this series. Also, the voice on the phone was performed by Catherine Battistone, who appeared in several Darkside episodes, though doing primarily phone work.

"Payment Overdue." (First aired 14 February 1988) Directed by John Drury. Written by Richard Benner. Starring Maura Swanson and Lewis Arlt. 4/10

Ambitious New York City telephone bill collection agent Jeanette Simpson receives an odd call on her private line, coming from one Rita Vasquez. A quick search in her impressive 1987 PC reveals that this Rita person is deceased. Arriving with a package is Michael Nelson, who bears a cheque from... I'll give you three guesses... no, not the Expository Devil, but from the infamous Rita V. Creeped out and maybe a little lonely, our heroine Jeanette convinces Michael to stay for dinner so that she can feel safe, and so we can have some characterization without poor Jeanette having to talk soliloquize. Character development offers up an obviously bland and overt morality lesson. This piece of nonsense fantasy is saved by a good performance from unknown Maura Swanson as Jeanette, whose character actually travels through a variety of emotions in only about twenty-two minutes. The rest is painfully ridiculous.

"Love Hungry." (First aired 21 February 1988) Directed by John Strysik. Written by Strysik from a story by Roberts Gannaway. Starring Sharon Madden and Larry Gelman. 7/10

"Betsy, you were the prettiest girl in our class."

Overweight and lonely, Betsy Cowland has tried just about everything to lose weight, and just when her old high school flame Elmo Shroud is in town wanting to visit, she receives a call from Your Weight Is Over with a sure-fire weight-loss opportunity. The method is simple: with the help of a specially designed hearing aid and later some nifty eyeglasses, our dear Betsy can hear and see her food as though they were alive. Imagine trying to eat a friendly banana.

Another of Darkside's odder tales, "Love Hungry" is extremely enjoyable, with excellent performances by by Sharon Madden as Betsy and Larry Gelman as Elmo. The episode has some great touches. Betsy Cowland--the name Betsy is common for cows, like Spot for a dog, and Cowland is self-explanatory. Betsy is surrounded by plants that she talks to and clearly cares about, so she is immediately a great candidate for this weight-loss system. Even while watching the Romero-inspired Night of the Eating Dead, she is munching on a turkey drumstick, undeterred by the onscreen gore. Betsy works as a telemarketer for Special Editions Books, an unforgiving job that has non-customers speaking rudely and hanging up on her, surely doing little for Betsy's already beaten down self-esteem. The phone call she received from Weight-Away, distributor of Your Weight Is Over products, is genuinely creepy, mimicking Betsy's own telemarketing script, yet with Weight-Away the transaction is already made: "We'll deliver this afternoon," says the non-descript male voice. And of course there is the screaming enchiladas and tacos in a hilarious orgiastic feast that must be seen. There's a great deal more, and will encourage a view.

"Please don't eat us! Please don't eat us!"

The finest aspect of the episode is that Elmo, the man Betsy is trying to impress, is a short, balding funny-looking guy who is already completely enamoured of her. His crush on Betsy is genuine, a torch he's been carrying a long time, yet Betsy's self-esteem is so beaten down by being overweight that she is unable to realise this, and hence the terribly tragedy. A tragendy greater than that, even, is poor, kind, unprejudiced Elmo's final loss of her, after so many years. Imagine what he must have gone through to finally gain the courage to even pursue Betsy. A tragedy for two, indeed.

"The Deal." (First aired 28 February 1988) Directed by T.J. Castronova. Written by Allen Coulter & Granville Burgess. Starring Allen Garfield. 4/10

"Scripts aren't written, they're re-written." This philosophy should have been applied to "The Deal." Desperate and ambitious screenwriter Tom Dash has been collecting rejection slips for his scripts, until friendly neighbour Donald passes one along to some people he knows, because really, it's not about the work but about who you know. Dash receives not only a contract, but a cheque for $20,000; "I'll be damned!" he cries. "Yes, you will be," says Donald. Turns out the friendly neighbour is the devil, and Dash sells his soul in order to be in charge. The episode is not too original, and not too funny, but Allen Garfield is fun to watch in three different roles. Robert Costanzo is also amusing as producer Vincent Dessari (I though at first it was Jon Polito, likely with the excellent Barton Fink in mind), and Bradley Whitford is fine as Tom Dash.

"The Apprentice." (First aired 21 February 1988) Directed by Eleanor Gaver. Written by Ellen Sandhaus. Starring Haviland Morris and Wayne Tippit. 7/10

"Behold the great city has fallen, and has become the habitation of devils and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage for every unclean and hateful bird of prey." Perhaps exaggerated, but a powerful way to describe the sacrilegious age of 1986.

College Sophomore Sarah McBride accepts a job at a colonial village tourist trap, despite the particular demands of employer Thomas Branford. Well, it turns out that Branford is still living in colonial times, 1692 Salem, to be precise, and takes poor Sarah back in time with him. There Sarah meets meek Jane Branford, daughter of Thomas, and, not aware this she is nearly three years in the past, tries to get Jane to stand up to bully husband to be Peter. It doesn't take long for modern Sarah to stir the crucible and raise the ire of the men, so that Thomas, seeing her strike fire at her fingertips (with the help of drugstore lighter), accuses her of being a witch, and sentencing her to death. What will happen to our Sarah? And how will poor innocent Jane fare amid the tyranny of these colonial men? An entertaining episode indeed, and I love the idea that Salem witches were women from the mid-1980s. I don't really understand why Thomas was so intent on wanting to preserve the puritan past after having caught a glimpse of 1986--it wasn't that bad of a year.

Directed by a woman, written by another woman, the episode contains nice touches of basic feminism, old-time "romance" in a kind of historical Harlequin satire, in which the rugged farmer doesn't get the innocent virgin girl. It's a lot of fun to watch, and yet it's also about changing times and wanting to preserve the innocence of the past. I would have liked a little more detail about Sarah, as much that could have been added to the short episode, and I didn't believe for a second that Haviland Morris could be a college sophomore. Research indicates that she was almost thirty when the episode was filmed. Casting against age is often problematic (just look at Kenneth Branagh as Hamlet, and Derek Jacobi as (grand)stepfather Claudius!) Or perhaps Goody Sarah was a reel slowe lerner. Otherwise she suited the part, while Texan Wayne Tippit was great as crusty Thomas Branford.

Tales from the Darkside Season Four: Episodes 1 through 7

2011-06-10T00:22:00.002-04:00

Season One begins here
Season Two begins here
Season three begins here
Season four episodes 8 through 13 appear here
Season four episodes 14 through 20 appear here

"Beetles." (First aired 27 September 1987) Directed by Frank De Palma. Written by Robert Bloch from his short story . Starring Rob McCary, Sirri Murad, Donald MacKechnie and Colm Meaney. 6/10

It's April of 1936, and American Egyptologist Arthur Hartley is in England conducting research on an ancient sarcophagus he has recently unearthed (unsanded, to be specific). Only, rather than conduct research, he is more interested in the valuable jewels the mummy is supposed to be concealing. In walks Egyptian Hammid Bey, warning him not to touch the artifacts; they belong to Khepri, the beetle god of ancient Egypt (though it sounds as though he says "Kefra"). Yet Hartley nonetheless opens the coffin, as well as its mummy, to search for the precious stones he is certain are within. Shortly after committing this sacrilege, he is beginning to see beetles crawling throughout his home, across his pillow at night, in his cup of tea, and so forth. Is there indeed a curse involving beetles, as the images on the mummy imply? Will George, John, Paul and Ringo make an appearance? Will Hartley die a horrible death à la Darkside?

This is the Third Darkside adaptation of a Robert Bloch story (following Season One's "A Case of the Stubborns" and Season Two's "Everybody Needs a Little Love"), and it is easily the weakest of triad. Bloch's early, often generic stories from the 1930s, when he was interested in Egyptology and still under the influence of H.P. Lovecraft's work, deal with ancient spells and curses, whether Egyptian or Lovecraftian, and among those early stories, "Beetles" is probably the best (it was published in the December 1939 issue of Weird Tales). Unfortunately it loses a good deal in the translation to Darkside, mainly due to the humdrum restrictive devices of television (and especially of low budget TV). As with many Darksides, there are few characters and a single location, so information is often relayed through soliloquy, either a character talking/thinking aloud, or on the phone. Sometimes this works, often it doesn't, and here Bloch fails at constructing a convincing monologue, with Hartley unnecessarily resorting at times to state the obvious: "The jewels must have been here all the time!" Add to this some terrible British & cockney accents in the opening scene ("Can I give you a 'and, Govna?"), tedious pacing and predictability.

Yet there are some good touches that make the episode nonetheless watchable. Rod McCary is well cast as Hartley, looking the part of the 1930s archaeologist, and the reliable Colm Meaney delivers a great cameo as a constable. There is some good piano music (though it is more suitable for a saloon across the Atlantic), which is nicely contrasted with the requisite Egyptian music (Hammid Bey appears playing a wind instrument, and I'm not sure what this is supposed to imply; is he calling the beetles forth?). The set is well constructed despite continuity problems with the liquor bottle and glass, and there is a good mummy amid the clutter. There's also a neat visual transition from the mummy's face to Hatley's early on. The greatest achievement, however, are the great looking beetles, and a powerful final image that, though nowhere as powerful as the short story's finally, nonetheless rescues the episode from total average-ness.

"Mary, Mary." (First aired 4 October 1987) Directed by Katarina Wittich. Written by Jule Selbo. Starring Margaret Whitton and her mannequin. 7/10

"We of the popular club have a lot of work to do."

Lonely Mary Jones, surrounded by stuffed animals and other fake models of the living, tries to experience life through a mannequin. Professional photographer, Mary is able to beautify the hunk of plastic and film it so that she can send videos out to some mid-1980s dating agency. Yet when a good-looking neighbour catches a glimpse of her through the window and tries to make contact, lonely Mary is terribly afraid. Is handsome stranger David attracted to her, or is he also taken in by the mannequin? The double-barreled title alludes nicely to this dilemma: which Mary is the one receiving this unexpected attention?

"Mary, Mary," quite contrary to its IMDb rating, works nicely for me. It took me over half the episode to figure out how the play will end, though much of the credit for this goes to the ability the episode has in making me root for its title character. Played superbly by stage director and stage and film actress Margaret Whitton, my desire for Mary to overcome her shyness was truly sincere, and that moment as she tries on the various dresses, trying to put on some make-up, is devastating. Whitton's face is expressive and her voice well controlled so that her entire performance is engaging, especially the second time around (as I was searching for a neat shot to post). It is also ironic that Mary is a professional photographer with the ability to beautify a mannequin, since she is completely aware of the importance of surface appearance, and tragically unable to find a dress that can give her even a modicum of confidence so she can leave that cluttered apartment.

Director Katarina Wittich was assistant director on a some of Romero's projects, including several Darkside episodes. Wittich is only the third woman to have directed for Darkside, and it's possible that this episode works because of a woman's hand. Mary's loneliness and insecurities come out sympathetically; she is a victim of her ordinariness. The ending also works [spoiler] in that we can argue she does not transform into a mannequin, but has pushed herself into a tragic form of stasis due to her inability to act with confidence. Her desperate need to change and her crippling inability do so simply freezes her, and the result is a kind of plasticizing coma.

The Spirit Photographer." (First aired 11 October 1987) Directed by Bill Travis. Written by Mark Patrick Carducci & Brian Thomas Jones. Starring Frank Hamilton, Richard Clarke and "Screaming" Terres Unsoeld. 5/10

Paranormal investigator Algernon Colesbury has bought the most infamous haunted house in New Haven, and sets up a "spirit attractor," a machine that, well, attracts spirits. He is attempting to take the first ever clear photo of a spirit (none of that fuzzy Loch Ness stuff). His old rationalist friend Harry Bainsbridge believes that Algernon's work so far has been a hoax, and has no faith that he will succeed. The viewer knows, of course, that there are indeed spirits in this house, and moreover that Algernon is in danger. The episode is a little slow and we must again watch a character speak aloud to himself, though really he is making an important recording. The opening sequence between the two contrary friends is required to quickly bring us to the meat of the plot, yet despite its clear expository nature, it is well written and makes for a good opening scene. Actors Frank Hamilton as Algernon and Richard Clarke as Harry are enjoyable to watch.

The ending oddly switches the genre from suspense ghost story to light comedy, though strangely it works. Perhaps it works because the ghost Lenore is a joke: the suspense builds up but when she appears, a spirit so evil and frightening that she has destroyed many men, she gives the impression of bad actress playing a witch at a child's Halloween show. This is truly unfortunate, for a slightly better conceived and/or acted ghost could have improved the episode significantly. Her name, Lenore, is likely borrowed from Poe.

"The Moth." (First aired 18 October 1987) Directed by Jeffrey Wolf. Written by Michael McDowell. Starring Deborah Harry and Jane Manning. 5/10

A duel is played out between a woman and her dead daughter. Thing is, daughter Sybil is a witch and has died from wounds incurred through meddling in the lives of others. Before expiring, Sybil convinces her mother to seal her soul in a jar, and that soul manifested in the form of a moth. Well, mother regrets having done as Sybil wished, and tries to confuse the corpse in order to prevent it from getting to her soul. This one could have been excellent, but the items mother sets about the room are not too convincing, and the witch's ease in getting through some of the items is confusing. What the mother is even up to at the beginning is not immediately clear, so we are not given the opportunity to build suspense in relation to the duel itself.

Popular band Blondie's lead singer Deborah Harry received her first notable acting opportunity in David Cronenberg's Videodrome. Here she plays Sybil (perhaps a role that should have been offered to Stevie Nicks), and plays her well, I suppose, though nothing incredibly demanding is required. Harry later appeared in the 1990 Darkside movie version, creatively titled Tales from the Darkside: The Movie. Her mother is played by one Jane Manning, who is a little uneven. The set is quite good but the script hampers this one considerably.

"No Strings." (First aired 25 October 1987) Directed and written by David Odell. Starring T, J. Castronova, Barry Dennen, Cameron Milzer and Bradley Fisher. 7/10

"I'm your puppet, yes it's true! I'll do anything you want me to."

Mob leader Eddie Minelli is celebrating his latest achievement: he is now the sole head of his area's organized crime, since he has recently killed his partner, Don Paulie. To celebrate, Minelli has brought in famous puppeteer Aldo to perform a private show. Unfortunately for Aldo he was brought in without consent, though worse is the fact that Minelli wants him, despite girlfriend Tiffany's hysterics, to use as his puppet the recently belated Don Paulie.

Great horror with an original concept. Among the few Darkside episodes that can be truly categorized as modern horror, it is great that the makers were able to get away with filming the horrific concept, including a sequence during which Minelli's henchman Nicky is preparing Don Paulie's corpse. The cast is fairly unknown, with T.J. Castronova as Minelli and Barry Dennen as Aldo; they all do a fine job for TV, despite some wonky New York accents and Cameron Milzer's annoying whining as girlfriend Tiffany. The horror and tension lessens a tad when a supernatural element is introduced, since the early part is wielded to realism, but it is still a good episode, the best so far from Season Four.

"The Grave Robber." (First aired 1 November 1987) Directed by Jeff Schiro. Written by Howard Waldrop and Donald Wollner from a story by Waldrop. Starring Arnold Stang, Polly Draper, Daren Kelly and Ed Kovens. 5/10

An archaeologist and his assistant are led to a secretly discovered Egyptian tomb whose contents they wish to steal for profit. They discover, of all things, a mummy (bet you didn't expect that twist) who awakens, kills their expendable stereotypical guide and promises the Americans a painful death. Assistant Aileen proves to be clever, and gets the mummy to play strip poker in order to escape. An almost amusing episode with a good, energetic performance by comedian Arnold Stang as the mummy Tapok. Throw in a few amusing lines, and of the mostly forgettable comedic episodes, this one is actually watchable. Too bad, however, that two episodes featuring Egyptology appear so close together.

"The Yattering and Jack." (First aired 8 November 1987) Directed by David Odell. Written by Clive Barker from his own story. Starring Phil Fondacaro, Antony Carbone, Thomas Newman and Danielle Brisebois. 5/10

A diminutive, angry daemon known as a yattering is wreaking havoc at the home of happy pickle salesman Jack Polo on Christmas Eve. His daughter drops by for an unexpected visit, and the craziness intensifies as they try to evade what appears to be a poltergeist. The viewer soon learns, however, through the appearance of that Darkside favourite, the Expository Devil, that the yattering was sent to capture Jack's soul, and MUST NOT FAIL. Moreover, it can do anything short of touching our hero, for if it were to touch Jack, it would forever be his slave.

This episode is yet another near miss. The main problem is that it cannot decide whether it's a comedy or a horror; that opening scene with the yattering appearing in the cracked mirror was a good bit of shock suspense, but the turkey flying up to the Christmas tree made me wonder if Terries Gilliam & Jones were responsible. Another scene that weakened the whole was the appearance of that devilish expository Beelzebub. Too many Darkside episodes relied on the devil to appear in order to explain to the viewer the plot points they need to know in order to progress the story and often to generate an ending. ("Whatever you do, don't touch the salesman!" Of course he will touch him.)

Other items add to the confusion. [spoiler here] Jack seems genuinely confounded by the destruction, claiming there is a poltergeist, or perhaps he is going mad, yet it turns out he is aware of all the finer details of the "haunting." It turns out that Jack is important to Beelzebub, so I wonder, why give such an important task to such a stupid, temperamental imp?

As far the cast is concerned, Phil Fondacaro is great as the yattering, and Antony Carbone is charming as Jack (Carbone appeared on the original The Twilight Zone episode "Mirror, Mirror"). The others are fine, I guess. This is David Odell's second directing stint on Darkside, the first being the excellent "No Strings" which he also wrote (his writing career includes less memorable works such as Supergirl, Masters of the Universe, and also the acclaimed The Dark Crystal, none of which I have seen).

"The Yattering and Jack" is among Clive Barker's Books of Blood stories, which are known for their ingenuity and even their violence and horrific concepts. Likely the originally work has less of Monty Python and more of Hellraiser.

Finally, there is an ancient Pepsi bottle on the side table, just inside the den, circa 1987.

Masters of Science Fiction (2007)

2011-05-31T22:44:00.003-04:00

I enjoyed most of the first Masters of Horror series that aired in 2005, and approaching science fiction with a similar concept was a great idea. Indeed, every genre should have a Masters series, from mysteries to comedies, allowing specialists in each area to develop projects of their choosing. MoH really did approach the specialists, including John Carpenter, Dario Argento, Keith Gordon and Takashi Miike, whereas MoSF seems to consider the original stories as the Masters, and not the people behind them. These six episodes were directed by a varied bunch, yet most have little or no experience in science fiction. In fact, most of them seem to have been struggling for work, and might have directed a TV commercial had they been approached. Considering the stories as the Masters was, let's be honest, a cheaper option for a standard network. The series was produced by ABC rather than Showtime, and there is no way ABC (the Disney channel) would allow the freedom of creativity required by established Masters. While MoH was not scaled down in its violence, profanity and nudity, which, truly speaking, helped generate some of its better episodes, from Cigarette Bu rns to Jenifer, MoSF was limited to prime time PG-rated fare. Though not a terrible series, it feels like television, often lacking depth and proper visual effects (though the sometimes poor CGI did not bother me). Whereas watching MoH felt like I was watching a series of short films, with MoSF I was always aware that I was watching prime time TV; of course because of this I was more willing to forgive its faults, but many of the episodes were missed opportunities, amounting to plain fluff or, in the more painful cases, political propaganda.

The series was hosted by undisputed Master of scientific knowledge Stephen Hawking. Though the narration is limited to a few opening and most often closing words of wisdom, I was pleased that the great man was brought in for this project, if for nothing more than a sign of respect. Thanks to Dr. Hawking's work, and the work of other talented scientists, the genre is able to progress and continuously generate great concepts for both science and art. In the case of MoH the Masters are not the film-makers but the stories, adapted from authors John Kessell, Howard Fast, Robert A. Heinlein, Harlan Ellison, Walter Mosley and Robert Sheckley. The stories selected were an odd bunch, some quite dated and not properly updated (namely those by Howard Fast and Robert Heinlein). Still, the ideas are there, but aside from "The Discarded" this was a pretty average, even under-average series, weaker than the sometimes innovative 1995 rendition of The Outer Limits. In fact, a lot of this felt like The Outer Limits, especially the series pilot, "A Clean Escape." Which segues us to the episodes...

"A Clean Escape." (First aired 4 August 2007) Directed by Mark Rydell. Written by Sam Egan from a short story by John Kessel. Starring Judy Davis, Sam Waterston, Allison Hossack and Robert Moloney. 6/10

Psychiatrist Deanna Evans is working on bringing successful company man Havelman's memory back. Apparently he has successfully blocked out the last twenty-four years of his life due to some kind of trauma. We learn quickly enough that the trauma was something he himself is responsible for, and his actions of two and half decades ago resulted in the death of Dr. Evans's own children. A solidly grim introduction to the series, with good directing, a great set and good performances all around. Moreover, in line with good science fiction, its thematic notions weigh heavily on the darker side of humanity.

The plot is nicely constructed, with little bits of information released in a patient, methodical manner. Yet it is too well constructed, a consequence of prime time television, so you can see exactly where the commercials were originally inserted. As the puzzle begins to take shape, there are still more surprises awaiting us, though none of it feels artificial; while we might feel that we should be privy to the information Dr. Evans is withholding rather than be in the dark alongside Mr. Havelman, Evans and her colleagues naturally talk around the subject since all are very well aware of Havelman's actions, and moreover, this way we are given the opportunity to sympathise with Havelman before we learn all of the facts. Despite being the bad guy, however, I still felt sorry for him at the end.

I can't help but liken this series opener to many episodes of The Outer Limits (1995); the small contained set, dark social themes and familiar television faces. Had I come across this while flipping channels I would have likely assumed it to be an episode of The Outer Limits. Both programs were even filmed in Canada, Vancouver to be precise (which, incidentally, is also where some of the Masters of Horror episodes were filmed). Dr. Evans's office is gorgeous (and the single stage set reduces costs), while the remaining decor and clothing are quite simple. Well directed by Mark Rydell, the man behind such classic films as The Cowbo ys (1972), The Rose (1980), On Golden Pond (1981), I wonder what the director's link to science fiction might be. Looking at the dates of his greatest achievements, I suspect he was looking for work. The script by veteran TV writer Sam Egan is good, though at times the dialogue is a little self-conscious, but this might also be due to the delivery. Egan has a long list of science fiction to his credit, from twenty episodes of The Outer Limits to Stargate SG-1 and the short-lived Automan. I am unfamiliar with the work of John Kessel, author of the Moby Dick-inspired "Another Orphan" and co-author of Freedom Beach (with James Patrick Kelly), so cannot comment on the spirit of the adaptation. I did not care for the music; it was overdone and used too obviously to heighten certain moments when a piece of the puzzle falls into place, almost as though we were watching the 1950s The Outer Limits rather than the modern version. And now (dum dum da dum) we will move onto (dum da dum dum) the next episode (da-dum!).

"The Awakening." (First aired 11 August 2007) Directed by Michael Petroni. Written by Petroni from "The General Zapped an Angel," by Howard Fast. Starring Terry O'Quinn, Elisabeth Röhm, William B. Davis, Julian Christopher, Malcolm Dingham and Hiro Kanagawa. 3/10

An American military chopper goes down in Iraq, and a US soldier and an Iraqi soldier confront each other with loaded weapons in a tense moment, trembling and screaming until they are suddenly able to understand each other. Baffled, they look over to a foreign object on the ground, and immediately fall into some kind of trance. [Insert overdone synthesized television music.]

It turns out that the chopper collided with something unearthly, and a figure wrapped in some kind of cocoon is discovered in the sand. A retired general is brought in to investigate alongside a young lieutenant, and they soon realise this is no hoax. Military and political leaders must now decide how to face what they believe is a potential alien threat.

Based on Howard Fast's short story "The General Zapped an Angel," from the bygone idealistic age of 1970, this little play is interesting until the idealism shines through (and I mean literally shines). I won't give the ending away, but will say that the last portion is dated and silly, filled with naive propaganda and bad music. The opening was interesting enough, and for a full half-hour I was willing to forgive its obvious shortcomings. First, there are the stereotypical characters: the tough retired no-nonsense general who lost his loving wife many years ago and reminisces about her last words to him while showing his sympathetic side (I thought for a moment he might even shed a tear); the tough young-yet-sympathetic and attractive lieutenant who is daughter-like to avoid having to confront a potential romantic sub-plot (so poorly acted I thought I was going to shed a tear); the temperamental war-hungry president, and all the other high ranking know-it-all military men and doctors who refuse to listen to the warnings of our two outcasts. There are the other nation leaders, the Russian, Chinese and French officials who speak through the same interpreter, and the Indian in appropriate costume. There is a lot of silly yellow light and terrible made-for-TV music. There is the convenience of leaving the alien figure unguarded (unlikely) so that the female scientist can become comatose as well. I was even willing to overlook Elisabet h Röhm's terrible attempt at acting, that painful struggle you can almost see in her eyes whenever she tries to emote. In contrast I am always pleased to see Hiro Kanagawa who earned my respect many years ago with his wonderful improvised cameo as the pet shop owner in Best in Show. Terry O'Quinn (the bald guy from Lost), William B. Davis (the cancer guy from The X-Files) and the rest are fine in their single-dimension roles. The direction by Michael Petroni is average, while his script is embarrassing, an unabashed, poorly-written bounding mass of idealistic "lay down your weapons so the world can be one nation" speech.

It is interesting, however, that the creature comes in a cocoon and leaves with wings. Not quite the angel the film-makers had hoped, but rather an insect.

"Jerry Was a Man." (First aired 18 August 2007) Directed by Michael Tolkin. Written by Tolkin from a short story by Robert A. Heinlein. Starring Malcolm McDowell, Anne Heche, Russell Porter, Jason Diablo and Bill Dow. 6/10

In the distant future, genetically engineered "Joes" are designed to perform menial tasks, saving companies a fortune since these workers, though costly, require no salary and no benefits. A supremely wealthy woman (the seventh wealthiest in the world) and her dufus husband visit a manufacturer of Joes in search of something quaint, and during this visit the woman is taken by a Joe named Jerry. Unable to purchase him since the old models were bought by a dog food company, she leases Jerry for one year, much to the chagrin of her simple-minded husband who much prefers the shrunken elephant.

"Jerry Was a Man" is a not terribly funny but a strangely enjoyable satire nonetheless, mainly due to its overall design and the fine performances. The decor does well in conveying this decadent society, though we only see the world through the eyes of the financial elite, so the rooms are all large, from the couple's bedroom to the elegant space of the Bradbury Club (no doubt a nod to author Ray Bradbury). Moreover, the unusual hairstyles, costumes and calming colours give the feature a nice, consistent look. The script, unfortunately, is lacking, since despite the solid performances some of the speeches and dialogue come across as silly or uninspired, and structurally we are offered something extremely formulaic.

Nonetheless, in this single episode many themes are touched upon, from class issues to the question of whether artificially generated anthropoids have human qualities or are they merely possessions. Many touched upon, indeed, but none really examined satisfactorily. Depictions of the self-interested social elite and financially interested scientific endeavours are not contrasted in any way; even the lawyer who takes on the case to prove that Jerry is a man is motivated by the challenge and the price, rather by any moral drive. A shortcoming of this episode is its inability to show different aspects of its society, so that we can only speculate as to whether morals in fact do exist, since even the trial judges appear less than morally astute, and less than intelligent. Perhaps the intent is to give the viewer a glimpse of the world through the eyes of Martha Van Vogel rather than a full-scale notion of this future society, but then if she is so isolated from realities outside her own, how is she able to acquire sympathy for Jerry or gain the drive to fight for his freedom? Less focus on the speeches, both from Dr. Tibor Cargrew early on and from lawyer McCoy during the trial, and a little more characterization, either of Martha or society on a larger scale, would have made for a more complete story, but even so the episode does manage to, while not educate or enlighten, at least to entertain.

Director and writer Michael Tolkin is a writer with minimal director experiences, yet as touched upon above, I feel his direction worked better than the writing. Tolkin's writing credits are varied and mostly co-credited, from the disappointing De ep Impact to the ho-hum Changing Lanes, though he also adapted his own novel for Robert Altman's fine film The Player. While Deep Impact was a foray into science fiction, good science fiction is social statement masked as entertainment, usually plot-driven, its commentary built into plot and world vision; Deep Impact was more statement than entertainment, with some poor sentimentalism which also hinders "Jerry Was a Man." Another director looking for work, and surely not hired due to any science fiction prowess. As I mention above the acting helps to make this watchable: the inconsistent Malcolm Mc Dowell is great as the opportunistic scientist, though his part is over-written, and while Anne Heche is acceptable as Martha, Jason Diablo is very watchable as Jerry, and both Russell Porter and Bill Dow give solid performances as Bronson Van Vogel and McCoy, respectively.

As a teenager I read a fair amount of Robert A. Heinlein, though I managed to miss "Jerry Was a Man." First published in Thrilling Wonder Stories, Oct ober 1947, it is dated in its simplistic social view, though I suppose its uncomplicated nature makes it easy to adapt for television.

"The Discarded." (First aired 25 August 2007) Directed by Jonathan Frakes. Written by Josh Olson from a short story by Harlan Ellison. Starring Brian Dennehy, John Hurt, James Denton Gina Chiarelli, Jason Diablo, with a cameo by Harlan Ellison himself. 7/10

A group of mutants are exiled into space, clearly not because of any kind of infection, but because they are so horribly disfigured that no one wants to have to look at them. So they float around in space aboard the ship, tolerating one another, going a little crazy, and existing in the minutest sense of the word. Despite the obvious ending and the more obvious message, this is the best episode of the series. The acting is excellent, the make-up fantastic, the set nifty, the music better and the script somewhat above average.

"The gift that keeps on giving. Like another head."

The wonderful John Hurt this time around has a head poking not out of his belly, but out of his shoulder, while broad-bodied Brian Dennehy is broadened even more by an inflated left arm. The make-up is excellent, with a convincing second head on Hurt's shoulder that is enhanced by excellent voice work, and the details of Dennehy's hand and arm are vivid and stare-inducing. Other deformities include Jason Diablo (who played Jerry in "Jerry Was a Man") who wears a grin that nearly takes the expression "ear to ear" literally, and Gina Chiarelli whose somewhat luminous body partially reveals her inner workings. Dennehy as ship's unwilling leader Bedzyk and Hurt as his irritable and small-minded (despite having two heads) friend Samswope work well together, and without the two the episode would lose much of its appeal. Indeed the characters are, aside from Dennehy and partner Chiarelly, juvenile, scampering about like children not knowing what to do with themselves, and needing a tough paternal role model. So out of touch with reality, easily cajoled and manipulated, a ship of fools is what this is, and an effective menagerie at that.

Directed by science fiction figure Jonathan Frakes (Commander William T. Riker of Star Trek: The Next Generation) and written by Josh Olson, who adapted the graphic novel for David Cronenberg's A History of Violence, "The Discards" is based upon a short story by admired/hated genre author Harlan Ellison, first published in the April 1959 issue of Fanta stic. Personally, I'm mixed about Ellison's work, but the idea here is among his better, cynical ones. The story unfolds well, and works because it allows for character interaction and uses the episode's additional time well (and there is quite a bit, since the essential plot points can be related in ten minutes of video), in allowing the actors to play off of one another. Some nice, wider shots also enable us to see more of the interesting, moss-ridden set, and there are neat touches, like the shelf of cheap, tattered paperbacks appropriately stored behind Bedzyk's chair; he is likely the only one on the ship who bothers to read. This time around the music is a jazz light, appropriately replacing the usual over-dramatic scores of the previous episodes. It's a nice change.

"Little Brother." (not aired in the US; first aired in Canada 2 December 2007) Directed by Darnell Martin. Written by Walter Mosley from his story. Starring Clifton Collins, Jr., Kimberly Elise, Garwin Sanford and Daryl Shuttleworth. 6/10

Inmate Frendon Blythe finds himself tried for a murder he did not commit by a court that is made up of computers running on fragments taken from the memories of previous humans (I plea dead people). A great idea with much promise, focusing on individuality and intelligence rather than brawn or idealistic socialism. The title "Little Brother" is taken from a term derived from George Orwell's totalitarian Big Brother, referring to individuals snooping on one another, rather than the state doing the snooping. Unfortunately, the episode isn't given the opportunity to be fully realised. It could easily have been longer so that we do not need to rush through so many of the events and details. What was the business of Frendon wanting to flee the compound so he can find his mother? It had nothing to do with anything. Are we supposed to sympathise with him because he misses his mommy? And what of the societies behind and beyond the wall? Fine ideas are introduced but they go nowhere and seem not to have anything to do with the courts. Rather than rushing through details, perhaps we could have stayed underground, had Frendon save someone's life there and be set up, and that way explore the sub-level society and the inhuman courts (literally). Or make an hour-and-a-half episode.

The sets are great as are the props, the acting is average, and the script by popular crime fiction writer Walter Mosley is average as it suffers from so many TV constraints. One thing we do learn is that the expression "Whatever" will survive beyond society as we know it today. That alone should have gotten Frendon convicted.

"Watchbird." (not aired in the US; first aired in Canada 2 December 2007) Directed by Harold Becker. Written by Sam Egan from the short story by Robert Sheckley. Starring James Cromwell, Sean Astin, Stacy Grant, Vincent Gale and the voice of Sally Kellerman. 4/10

A young software expert finds himself in moral turmoil. He is responsible for the development of the Watchbird, a small droid involved in overseas battles that has the ability to recognize deadly intent from human individuals. American soldiers are rendered safe through specially designed chips, so these watchbirds are able to destroy enemy targets before they can actually strike. Well, dedicated developer Charlie Kramer is troubled when asked to alter the droid so it can be used for homeland security. Chuck has his reservations, for the human psyche is complex and these machines seem to be evolving; how certain can we be that the innocent will be spared? But the evil, capitalist CEO and government officials see potential in these birds, and are pushing our poor morally bound genius to go against his sense of responsibility, even by committing horrible, immoral acts! How distressing! How predictable! Yet we don't care because of the poor acting and that awful music that would be likely more effective in stopping crime than any advanced piece of military technology. ("I surrender! Just stop playing that crap!")

A great idea by the talented Robert Sheckley, though the episode is lacking his satirical humour. Like many things on TV, this could have been a decent little play. Unfortunately it is bogged down by a bad script, overt propaganda, a needless scene with Arab terrorists, and a terrible performance from our lead, Sean Astin. The scenes between him and his bride-to-be Sarah Moser (Stacy Grant) are painful to watch, the dialog between them stiff and unnatural while the performances are so forced I feel the two have just met; there is no chemistry between our actors. Sarah seems to be arguing against Charlie's moral stance, as though she too were a company CEO, and I just wonder how someone so committed to humanity could fall for a woman not only as cold as she, but as unsympathetic toward his dilemma. Perhaps she is upset about his weight and those blank stares he keeps giving her. James Cromwell, however, gives a good performance as boss Randolph Ludwin, and Sally Kellerman (Hot-Lips from the original MASH) is fine as the voice of the Watchbird, but aside from these two the cast is weak, and even the bit actors fail to be convincing.

Director Harold Becker is known for third-rate Hollywood fare since offering a strong debut in 1979 with The Onion Field. This is Sam Egan's second script for the series, following the better "A Clean Escape."

Briefly: Isaac Asimov, The Caves of Steel (1953)

2011-05-24T20:38:00.001-04:00

Asimov, Isaac, The Caves of Steel, Galaxy Science Fiction, October to December, 1953
_____, The Caves of Steel, New York: Doubleday, June 1954 (first book edition)
_____, The Caves of Steel, New York: Signet, October 1955 (edition below)
_____, The Caves of Steel, New York: Bantam Spectra, November 1991, (my edition, at right)

Rating: 7/10

A review of The Caves of Steel contradicts the Casual Debris Three Laws of Reviewing:

Reviews will not be posted of popular books, journals or TV programmes, in that the act contradicts the philosophy of Casual Debris;
Reviews will not be posted of books which already have a vast array of criticism available;
Reviews of books will not include subjects I am not well versed in (i.e. science fiction) in order to avoid embarrassment.

Yet there is one additional Law that over-rides all other Laws: This is my site & I will review whatever I wish to review, so there!

Having made that clear, I will add that my approach here will not be generic: I don't plan on discussing whether The Caves of Steel is a better science fiction novel or mystery novel (I vote sci-fi), nor will I speculate on the science or sociology since Mr. Asimov is a better scientist than I, and I just don't feel like discussing the sociology. The work was first published in 1953 and set some millennia in the future, so if we wish to discuss the (in)accuracies of either, we can place the novel through contemporary filters and criticize it for not including any descendants of cell phones, or for the silliness in the boy's speech ("Gosh golly gee!"). It was that dark age of 1953, after all, and we can therefore forgive details such as ALL the cops are men, while women appear best suited for dietetics and gossip, and everyone in New York City seems to be white. But I digress.

What I would like to do is simple enough: liken The Caves of Steel with another popular work of fiction: William Shakespeare's Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.

"He was living in an unreal world, a cruel, topsy-turvy world."

Just like the great Dane himself. Like Prince Hamlet, Asimov's protagonist Elijah Baley unexpectedly finds himself in a world turned upside down. In Shakespeare, Hamlet awakens to a kingdom that is ruled by his once-uncle-now-father, as his father's ambitious brother Claudius ascends to the throne and becomes kings, and ascends Hamlet's mother Queen Gertrude to become Hamlet's new father. A horrible existential crisis ensues.

With Asimov we find a New York City cop awakening to the reality that his new partner is a dreaded robot, his job is close to being jeopardized, and his wife is part of a revolutionary group. While robots are as clearly discernible from humans as any visual interpretation made in the early 1950s, Baley's new partner, R. Daneel Olivaw, is an accurate replica of the human form, essentially confronting Baley with a notion not easily conceivable to humans at the time. Like Hamlet, Baley spends the first part of the story being completely ineffective, trying to grasp the idea that the world has transformed almost overnight, that the relationship between the hated Spacers (humans who have long since colonized nearby planets) and the desperate Earth dwellers has moved to a whole new plateau, and in order for civilization to survive, there must be collaboration between two parties that have done their best to exist independently from each other. Elsinore, the Danish royal castle, is its own isolated community, similar to the cave of steel that is NYC, and while Spacers and Earthmen are heading toward a kind of union between separate states, with Prince Fortibras ascending the throne at the play's end, Norway and Denmark unite.

There are other obvious similarities. Like Hamlet, Baley must also organize theatrics as part of the murder investigation, and while Baley's partner is an android, Hamlet's partner is a ghost. R. Daneel Olivaw was built as the spitting image of his creator, Dr. Sarton, and helps lead Baley on his investigation. The ghost of King Hamlet is the spitting image of the former king, and helps launch young Prince Hamlet's own investigation.

Asimov was well read and familiar with the works of Shakespeare; so familiar he devoted some fine research on the playwright in the form of Asimov's Guide to Shakespeare, volumes one and two, offering over eight hundred hardcover pages of synopses and interpretations. The work, originally published by Doubleday in 1970, went largely unnoticed (what serious academic would read a work on the greatest literary figure written by, of all things, a science fiction writer?), and while Asimov was never considered the greatest authority on the Bard, many have since admitted that there is value in this tome. Now, I'm not suggesting that Asimov intentionally wanted to write a futuristic version of Hamlet, but being familiar with the story and its details surely helped form The Caves of Steel.

And finally there is the writing. Compare these two statements on the state of the world: "There is something rotten in the state of Denmark" (Hamlet, Act 1, Scene IV), and "He was living in an unreal world, a cruel, topsy-turvy world" (The Caves of Steel, Chapter 13). These are shockingly interchangeable: "There is something rotten in the cave of New York;" "Hamlet was living in an unreal kingdom, a cruel, topsy-turvy kingdom." In fact, I would not be surprised to learn that the Bard coined that topsy-turvy term.