Author: Emily S. Whitten

Emily S. Whitten: Terry Pratchett – Shaking Hands with Death

Best-selling author Sir Terry Pratchett passed away on Thursday, March 12, and the final tweets from his Twitter account were a fitting and poignant way to announce his passing. Even though I knew it was coming, given Terry’s long struggle with Alzheimer’s and attendant health issues, it broke my heart a little bit more to hear that it really was the end.

I was fortunate to know Terry for almost ten years, beginning with my work on The North American Discworld Conventions after meeting Terry at a book signing in 2005 Along with being a great light in this world and one of my all-time favorite authors, he was also my longtime friend; and it’s hard to know how to sum up my feelings in the wake of his passing.

So much of my life would be different and much less rich without having known Sir Terry. From lending warmth and humor to the reading breaks I took from dry law school texts, to the experiences and wisdom and new opportunities I gained through building conventions from scratch, to wonderful friends I’d never have met if not for a shared love of Discworld, to all of the myriad ways his writing has caused me to ponder and question my views of the world, reading and knowing Terry literally changed my life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know that I am not alone in my feelings here, and my sincerest condolences go out to Terry’s family, his other friends, and the many, many other Discworld fans who are also mourning his death.

It’s both a nice thing and a strange one to see all of the public tributes to a person I am mourning on a personal level as well as due to the loss of his amazing talent; but I am very glad to see Terry getting the honor he deserves the world over for his achievements and contributions. Many are paying tribute to and writing about him and his works, and I’m sure that won’t cease any time soon, which is as it should be. It’s great to know that his impact on the world will be felt for years to come; and it’s comforting to read or listen to the social media posts and discussions by fellow Discworld fans and friends. (And this talk by Neil Gaiman, who honored Terry by devoting much of his time at an event onstage on March 12 to reading a bit of Good Omens and remembering Terry in conversation with Michael Chabon.)

Discworld fans are some of the most fun and intelligent folks I’ve ever met in fandom. As sad as I am over Terry’s passing, it delights me to see the many tributes, stories, and testimonials to how Terry and his work continuously changed people’s views and lives. It also surprises me not one bit to see that Pratchett fans have already begun to think up ways to ensure the memory of Terry lives on forever not just through his works, but through what his writing inspires other people to create. The “GNU Terry Pratchett” code is both a touching reference to Going Postal, and a bit of nerdy fan fun that would have delighted Terry, who was always glad to see fans enjoying Discworld, and unfailingly giving of his time and attention to those who appreciated his work.

But that doesn’t sum up the essence of Terry. The best summation of the Terry I knew comes from Neil Gaiman, in the foreword he wrote for Terry’s most recent collection of non-fiction writings, A Slip of the Keyboard. It can be read here. As Neil noted, Terry, while often genial, could in fact also be angry and impatient – with stupidity, with injustice, with unkindness – and he wasn’t one to hide or repress that anger. Instead, it underlies a lot of the genius that makes the Discworld series great. Underneath the humor and the fantasy, and the trolls, dwarves, wizards, witches, dragons, and more that inhabit that magical land, lie currents of deep and incisive observations and thoughts about how the world is versus how it should be if things were just and fair; and how and why we humans both often fail at being the better people he imagined we can be, and sometimes, against all odds, succeed in glorious fashion.

Terry’s brilliant satire both skewers humanity for its shortcomings and lifts it up for its goodness because of, as Neil put it, his love “for human beings, in all our fallibility; for treasured objects; for stories; and ultimately and in all things, love for human dignity. …anger is the engine that drives him, but it is the greatness of spirit that deploys that anger on the side of the angels, or better yet for all of us, the orangutans.”

This is the Terry that I treasure and will remember forever, from our first genial meeting in a small Virginia bookstore, through discussions and plans about what the North American convention ought to be like, (“by the fans, for the fans!”), and into odd and entertaining conversations had over a shared bowl of edamame at whatever sushi place we could locate wherever we happened to be. Along with his work, the funny and sharp yet still sweet moments I shared with Terry are what I will continue to hold dear. Like the story about the National Book Festival that I told BBC Radio 5live in the interview about 5 minutes from the end of this program. Or the time at the 2009 NADWCon when, after half a day of rushing around with Terry as his Guest Liaison, we found ourselves in the Green Room for a few unprecedented moments of calm. As Terry signed some books that needed signing, I took a pause from working at 2 p.m. to eat my first meal of the day, a yogurt and a granola bar (hey, I never said I acted like a sane person while running conventions). A couple of bites of yogurt in, Terry looked up from where he was industriously signing away and said, in a voice of concern, “Are you alright?” I said, “Yes, Terry, I’m fine. Why?” And he replied, with that slight twinkle in his eye, “You’ve gone quiet. That can’t be normal.” And there it was, the slyly sharp and observant Pratchett humor, poking fun at me for my regular stream of chatter, with which by then he was very familiar; but combined with a genuine concern that maybe something in the universe wasn’t quite right for a friend just then and something might need to be done about it. That was Terry to a T.

From start to finish, Terry was also defined by being a prolific and driven writer. Starting out as a journalist for the Bucks Free Press at the age of seventeen, Terry never stopped writing. Even near to the end, Terry continued to be driven to write, and has thus left us with one more finished Discworld book to look forward to; The Shepherd’s Crown, which should be out sometime this fall. It’s a Tiffany Aching book, which delights me both because Tiffany has always been a favorite of mine (Wintersmith sharing the title of My All-Time Favorite Pratchett Book with Night Watch), and because The Chalk where the Tiffany books mainly take place is closest in Roundworld geography to the area in which Terry lived. When I visited the area and walked out to Old Sarum and the surrounding area after reading the Tiffany books, I experienced the odd sensation of seeing The Chalk through Terry’s eyes and storytelling, and feeling the overlay of his magical fiction on the reality I walked through – or, to put it in more Pratchettian terms, feeling the thinning of the fabric of reality between the Discworld and Roundworld. For that experience as well as the beauty of the area and the feeling that, like Tiffany, Terry was very connected with and grounded in that land, The Chalk has always held a special place in my heart. I find it fitting that the last Discworld book is set in the Discworld equivalent of the land Terry lived in and loved.

In thinking of Terry’s passing, I recall that over the years, Terry noted that many people had told him that they feared Death less thanks to his portrayal of the character as an, if not exactly friendly, then at least comfortable and natural presence in the Discworld series. As with Terry’s other characters, Discworld’s Death reflects some of the fundamental truths about human nature that Terry understood and was so well-versed in; and is, I think, a Death Terry would not have been afraid to meet. It deeply saddens me to know that I will never again share a bowl of edamame and a fascinating conversation with Terry, but it comforts me to think that Death came for him as for an old friend with a mutual understanding of how the world works, and that they are now off somewhere together, keeping company with cats as they “murder a curry” during a companionable journey across the black desert to the ultimate end.

Although I can’t converse with Terry in this life anymore, the final thing I would like to say to him is: Even though you’ve left us, Terry, you’ll always be with me in spirit. I’ll miss you forever. Thank you for being my inspiration and my friend for so many years.

And when it comes to your writings, whether they be the much re-read favorites or the newest and last book of the Discworld series, I will always Servo Lectio.

 

Emily S. Whitten: The Minds of Philip K. Dick

Before I get started on this week’s musings, here are a couple of housekeeping items:

1) Have I mentioned lately how great the other writers here at ComicMix are? It’s probably been awhile, so let me take a quick minute to do so (again). If you somehow found ComicMix via me and primarily read my column here on the site, a) Cool, thanks! and b) I highly recommend you give the other folks here a try. Even in just reading through the last few days of columns, from Mindy Newell’s thoughts on Battlestar Galactica to Marc Alan Fishman’s discussion  of guarding one’s creative integrity versus going for a payday and wider success, to Molly Jackson’s rejoicing over the awesomeness that is Agent Carter, I am reminded of how quality the folks who write for this site are, and how lucky I am to be amongst them. Anyone reading this site probably knows that already; but just in case you’ve missed out – check out my fellow columnists. You won’t regret it.

2) Speaking of Agent Carter (and I wholeheartedly agree with your column, Molly), I mentioned previously that I’ve recently taken over the duties of co-hosting (with Cleolinda Jones) a long-running podcast, Made of Fail, which is all about geek culture and properties. It’s taken a little while for us to get our first solo-hosted podcast in the can, but we’ve finally recorded Episode 76 of Made of Fail, and it should be up any time now. We talk about current TV shows, including Agent Carter, along with some movies we’ve seen recently and various and sundry other topics. So please don’t forget to check that out in the next few days if you’re in the market for a fun (we hope) new podcast to listen to!

And now, on to today’s topic, which is the works of Philip K. Dick and the movies we keep making from them. During the 53 years that he lived, Dick wrote 44 published novels and at least 121 short stories, and a remarkable majority of them revolve around the same themes: the sense of a greater intellect or system watching and controlling the small, in comparison, life and actions of a protagonist; actual conspiracies that the protagonist only realizes too late, or perceived conspiracies that are the result of paranoia; a character’s confusion at what is happening and inability to determine reality versus illusion; humanity evolving or devolving in ways that destroy or replace the status quo (often through changes in science or technology); and the examination of free will versus inevitability of future events.

In the same way that Raymond Carver’s stories, different as the plots or characters might be, share the feeling of dirty realism, Dick’s stories, despite great plot variation, feel universally grim or oppressive, with a general sense of something ominous threatening existence, and with a focus on the singular importance to events of one person’s perception and the choices guided by that perception. They do often, however, also contain the flicker of hope that comes from realizing that a struggle against what might feel inevitable can bear the fruit of winning back control of one’s choices, or a greater understanding of one’s place in the universe.

Perhaps that is the reason why, despite the ominous feel of Dick’s works, we keep making them into movies; and pretty popular movies at that. Among the most well-known are Blade Runner (based on Dick’s novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep); Total Recall (based on the short story “We Can Remember It For You Wholesale”); A Scanner Darkly (based on the novel of the same name), The Adjustment Bureau (based on the short story “Adjustment Team”); and Minority Report (based on the short story “The Minority Report”). As a culture, it seems we find appealing the idea that if there is a greater, if ominous, design behind what happens in our lives, we have the ability to choose to upset that design once we recognize the patterns of it and its effects, and the responsibility to strive towards doing so.

Minority Report is a particular favorite film adaptation of mine, probably in part due to the believable but still fascinatingly futuristic technology shown, which was grounded in and extrapolated from the tech of the time. It also strikes a chord through the major themes of both story and film, which revolve around free will versus determinism, and the idea that our every action is informed by the information we have at the time, which may or may not be “true,” as well as the idea that we can choose what kind of self we want to see or be.

In brief, the story is of a PreCrime unit of law enforcement, which uses three individuals with precognitive abilities to anticipate crimes before they happen and prevent them by arresting the criminals before they commit the predicted crimes (thus before they actually become criminals).

The action kicks off when the chief of the unit, Anderton, intercepts a prediction that he will kill someone he’s never met. He begins trying to unravel how this could happen, and in the process realizes that the predictions reported by the “precogs” sometimes differ, and that even though the computer analyzing their predictions collates data to produce the often-accurate majority report, there remains a possibility of a “minority report” in which the outcome is different. This suggests the idea of multiple future time paths, and the ultimate unpredictability of a world with so many changing variables, including each instance of human choice based on each new bit of information received.

Interestingly, the film differs greatly in its ending from the story, to the extent that (SPOILER ALERT) in the film, Anderton is framed by the antagonist to protect the PreCrime system, but PreCrime is dismantled after Anderton chooses not to commit the predicted murder, and it’s proved that the system is imperfect and an individual’s actions can change depending on the information received.

Conversely, in the story, the villain is trying to discredit PreCrime by showing that Anderton didn’t kill even though it was predicted he would; and once Anderton realizes this he chooses to kill the antagonist in order to save the PreCrime system. Ultimately, however, the theme and effect of the story is the same, in that once the individual is made aware of what he is predicted to do, and has a chance to examine the reasons behind why he may or may not want to, he chooses which path to take based on that, and the prediction turns out to be incorrect.

Of all of Dick’s themes, the examination of free will versus determinism is one of the most interesting to me; but I also have given some thought to which other Dick stories could be the next big screen adaptation; and have come to the conclusion that “The Last of the Masters” would have great potential in that arena. If you haven’t read it, it is an exploration of the conflict between the need for control, lack of empathy, and indifference to the individual that can burden a larger governing system, versus a valuation of individualism, humanity, and the desire for freedom that is so strong it can spur anarchic revolution.

One quote from the story which particularly highlights this theme is from the anarchist Silvia, in talking to the “government integration robot” who controls the local government: “My God,” she said softly. “You have no understanding of us. You run all this, and you’re incapable of empathy. You’re nothing but a mechanical computer.” In this examination of the dangers inherent in establishing a system of control, the story seems almost the next logical step after a movie like Minority Report – moving from the question of an individual’s freedom and the importance of choice there to the question of a society’s need for freedom versus its desire to maintain structure and the benefits and evils that are inherent in asserting control.

I feel that of all themes, this might be the one Dick struggled with the most, for in his stories I repeatedly find both the threads of desiring and recognizing the importance of individual freedom and empathy, and the apprehension that the result of giving individuals choice will inevitably be an attempt to establish or maintain a greater controlling body that will then remove some level of choice.

There’s a question of how to create an ideal balance underlying his writing that, despite his great volume of works, never seems to be fully answered; and perhaps that’s because it can’t be wholly resolved. It’s a conflict that, for all of the surreal or fantastical qualities that surround Dick’s works, is very real, and could make for a damned interesting story to explore on film. I’d like to see that someday.

In the meantime, I’m going to be checking out the newest entry into the on-screen world of Philip K. Dick adaptations, The Man in the High Castle (the new TV series that is available on Amazon Instant Video, yay!).

So until next time, Servo Lectio!

Emily S. Whitten: Comics, New and Old

New Comics #1There’s a peculiar trait about the comic book industry that I never noticed until I was enmeshed in it enough to be aware that it was “the comic book industry.” Back when it was just “buying and reading comics I like, often in trade paperback or compilation formats” I never was aware of it – but once I became an active part of comic book fandom and started reporting on comics and trying to keep up with all the latest news, without even noticing that it was happening I embraced this trait, until after awhile it felt like it had engulfed me.

And no offense to the way the industry is set up, but I think it’s time for me to un-embrace it. The trait I’m referring to: The idea that the most important thing in comics, the thing to talk and care about, is always the newest thing; the latest thing; this week’s issue. The belief that what is worthy of discussion is something everyone’s buzzing about because it just came out; and that if you’re not up on the latest (book, new creative team, industry news) you are somehow not in the know about comics, or maybe not a true fan.

I get it; I really get why comics are pushed on readers with this angle, and why readers are willing and even eager to embrace and support the setup. And I get why the creators of comics support that structure as well. The way the industry is structured the longevity of many storylines, or the writers or artists assigned to those storylines, is only as secure as the numbers of latest issues being sold, or as the immediate feedback from fans (or haters). If you are a publisher, you want your newest creations to succeed, because that’s what keeps the money coming in. As a fan, if you like the current arc or character you want it all to keep going so you can keep reading. As a creator, you want to keep on working. Yes, it all makes sense. And given the way comics developed and continue to be sold, none of that may ever change.

I get all that, and I’m also not saying that there’s anything wrong with being excited about the latest thing or wanting to keep up on it, or that I don’t frequently experience excitement at the latest news. In fact, as a person who’s currently in the midst of writing a comic which I sincerely hope will someday see the light of day in the greater world, I’m sure that if my story does make it out there, I’ll be just as hopeful and concerned about the excitement over it and its immediate success. And as a comics journalist, I realize the irony of someone who is probably expected to be up on the latest news not wanting to always be talking about that (and the likelihood that my editor is shaking his head as he reads this).

But as a reader, I kind of abhor this mindset. After all, it’s never, ever been the way I’ve enjoyed reading or the reason I’ve read. Generally, I enjoy being able to consume whole stories; or at least whole chunks of stories that give me enough of the tale to satisfy for awhile. And what I love about a good read is that you can pick it up anytime, whether it’s a day or a hundred years after it was written, and enjoy or get something out of it. What I love is strongly developed characters; a driving plot; a new world of experience or thought opened before me; or some combination of these things. What I also love is the idea that these creations are spurred first and foremost by the desire to tell the story or the drive of creators to put their views to paper; not by marketing or the sheer need to secure a book’s continuing spot in the upcoming roster.

It’s weird that it’s taken me this long to figure it out, but I’ve realized that one of the reasons I’ve generally disliked crossovers, reboots, reimaginings, and the like is that even if a good story comes out of it (and sometimes that is the case), the impetus for the action is marketing; not storytelling. Granted, occasionally the story is served by it, if for example a character has been around so long that there doesn’t seem to be a new place to take him or her without rearranging some of the past; but in that case, honestly, sometimes I’d prefer to send a character quietly to the back of the queue, at least for awhile; and see a new creation take his or her place.

I realize I may be in the minority on this. After all, when you have, e.g., a Batman or a Spider-Man, who has had so many adventures and is beloved by all (including me), it can be hard to say goodbye. But on the other hand, even if we miss the characters when their adventures are done, there is something deliciously satisfying about whole stories with definitive endings; something we can find in good literature, but rarely in comics. There is also something satisfying about never having to see a favorite character diluted for the sake of stretching success.

I read to enjoy a story; and yet with comics, so often I find myself feeling an overwhelming pressure to read all the newest things no matter what they are; or to keep reading books I’ve stopped enjoying because they contain faint echoes of a character I once loved. I find myself stacks behind on the comics I think I might want to keep up on, or feel like I ought to be reading. And maybe the fault of this is with me, in that I’ve accidentally bought into the idea that I’d better read the thing everyone else is liking or keep reading what I once liked; but I think it’s also built into the structure of what comics are, and how they are published and marketed.

Whatever the case, in the end, comics are, like any other stories, for enjoying. And I’ve decided (as I stare at the stacked backlog of recent comics I’m meant to be reading for various and sundry of the above reasons) that I’m going to stop worrying about knowing all the latest, or what the industry or fans think I should be reading, and revert in practice to the way I’ve enjoyed every literary work I’ve ever read; by simply picking up whatever I’m in the mood for, no matter when it was put out or who created it, and enjoying the hell out of it for its own sake.

And at the moment, that means re-reading, for the umpteenth time, Joe Kelly’s Deadpool.

So until next time, beware of evil villains named Deathtrap and three-ton teddy bears, and Servo Lectio!

 

Emily S. Whitten: Spider-Man & Marvel’s REAL Civil War!

Wait, what? You guys, what?? Is it…is it true? Did the magical wish-granting fairy grant my (second biggest, after the upcoming Deadpool movie) Marvel movie wish? Is Spider-Man really coming to the Marvel Cinematic Universe in time for Civil War? Or am I hallucinating due to lack of sleep?

Nope, it’s real, and what’s more, I’m not the only one speculating that Spider-Man’s first appearance in the MCU may be in the Civil War storyline, which is something I’ve been wishin’ and hopin’ for ever since the possibility of Civil War on the big screen was even a glimmer of a speculative thought. It’s no secret that I love the Civil War crossover storyline, and if you don’t know why, just read those two links for plenty of reasons (and, uh, SPOILER WARNING and all that, both for those links and below).

But in brief: the Civil War crossover, though complicated in many ways, can be distilled down to the introduction of the Superhuman Registration Act into the Marvel universe, and the two sides distilled down to those who decide to register and reveal their secret identities, and those who fight registration to retain their personal privacy and freedom. It was a brilliant concept when introduced, because not only can readers identify with it via the analogies that can be drawn to various real-world issues (like surveillance and invasion of privacy and personal freedom, and the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D., which is supposed to be a governing force for good, ends up being a brutal enforcer of the Act), but it’s a fight that every main character in the MCU has a stake in, merely by dint of being a superpowered or vigilante fighter.

The secret identity angle is such an integral part of most super-folk that it pulls most of them in to some extent or another – but also, the backstory and personality of a particular character do a lot to determine what side they choose. And some of the choices are surprising. The Civil War storyline allowed writers to delve into the heart of why the heroes make the choices they do (although I always wish they’d done even more with them). And it gives us a legit reason for more badass scenes like that one in The Avengers where Iron Man, Thor, and Captain America duke it out full force, even while they remain (more or less) the sympathetic heroes that we love.

But despite all of the reasons I’d be excited to see any version of Civil War onscreen, if it turns out that Spider-Man’s first MCU appearance is in Civil War I’ll be doubly excited because Peter Parker’s heartbreaking journey during that storyline really gave it a focus and a character’s path to follow, even in the midst of all the rest. The choice he made to support the Act for both logical and personal reasons, and to work with a man he looked up to, Tony Stark; the consequences of that choice in both the short term and the long; the manipulation and betrayal by Tony even while they both thought they were doing the right thing; and the decision that Peter made to turn his back on his original choice, despite it almost being the death of him, make for a compelling story that pulls the rest of the characters’ journeys together; and any Civil War without Peter’s story will be severely lacking. Not to mention that the visual and emotional impact of some of Peter’s scenes would be amazing on the big screen, as would the Iron Spider suit that plays a big part in Tony’s betrayal.

Really, I could go on for hours about why Spider-Man is, in some ways, the heart of the Civil War tale, and it just wouldn’t be the same without him; but instead I’ll just take this moment to rejoice in his return to the fold of the Marvel family on the big screen, and to hope with all my little comic-book-loving heart that he takes his rightful place there in a well-told story during Civil War.

And until next time, cross your fingers with me and Servo Lectio!

 

Emily S. Whitten: The World’s Worst Superhero Team!

Quantum and WoodyThis week I thought I’d get back to basics and, you know, actually talk about a comic book (gasp!). Being in the mood for some potentially light reading, I poked around the myriad stories that I’ve picked up and not had time to read yet, and happened upon the first TPB for Quantum and Woody! The World’s Worst Superhero Team (the Valiant Comics 2013-2014 version). One look at the title and the cover (one tough-looking costumed superhero, one completely douchey-looking frat boy type superhero, and… a goat?) and I knew I’d probably at least not be bored.

And boy, was I right about that. I’m trying to think of a way to sum up what I just read, and I feel like, “This book is so wrong it’s right” might just about cover it. The premise – about two estranged brothers who end up reuniting to find out who murdered their father – sounds like it has potential from the start, and it does provide a good structure for the action. But what makes the book really work are the irreverent humor, the zany take on storytelling, and the strongly developed personalities of the characters we’re introduced to; as well as the flips back to the early years of Eric (Quantum) and Woody.

Those glimpses of earlier times show us a couple of brothers who were once very close, despite Woody being a foster child in the home of Eric and his scientist father, and, well, … a bit of a problem kid. They draw us in to make us want to know more about how the brothers ended up in a present where they’re fist-fighting over their father’s casket; without overwhelming us with the past.

The present shows us a Woody who is always careless and short on funds and, almost always, as douchey as he looks on the front cover (like when he tries to tell the cops who are coming to arrest him and his brother that his brother is a “crazy black man” and a “Muslim fundamentalist who tried to blow up our Godless white science!”).

Because, oh yeah, did I mention? Eric is black, and Woody is white. Which the story totally owns, in the way that the TV show Psych owns the best-friendship of Shawn and Gus – by not ignoring it, but turning an alternatingly warmly humorous and sharply commentarial look on it instead. The present also shows us an Eric who is more serious and responsible (except when led astray by his ne’er-do-well brother), and who also has Army and tactical training, and an actual paying job. Naturally this mismatch turns out to make the two the perfect pair to see “working” together. It sets up a fun buddy story dynamic that (surprising to no one who knows me) reminded me a bit of Cable & Deadpool – the responsible straight man and the wacky irresponsible comic dude somehow balancing each other out. Oh, and the results of an exploding science experiment force them to spend time with each other even when they’d rather be anywhere else (can anyone say, “bodyslide by one?”).

The first four issues in the Volume I TPB show us the crazy science experiment and origin of the “superhero” part of the buddy story, and it was a weird and interesting enough tale to keep my attention, despite being a little convoluted. Some of it almost felt like an elaborate excuse to take a stab at a certain historical figure (I won’t spoil everything for you) but, eh – I was amused anyway. And the rest of it, involving the brothers’ dad, allowed for some great emotional beats in a comic in which most of the time, nothing is sacred, as the story pokes fun at clowns, cripples, superhero costumes, and more. But it’s played for a laugh that works, because the writer (James Asmus) isn’t asking you to agree with the (sometimes offensive) commentary; but instead, writes it in such a way as to lampoon the wrongness of the joke as much as the target.

And while we’re mentioning creators, let’s send a fist-bump (Woody would totally fist-bump) to artist Tom Fowler and colorist Jordie Bellaire for dynamic and expressive art, and vibrant (except for the muted flashbacks, done to good effect) colors in the book. The writing and art make for a fun, and cohesive whole, and kept me laughing or smiling (even while sometimes shaking my head) pretty much the whole time.

Needless to say I want to continue reading to see what happens to these two knuckleheads. It looks like there are at least two more TPBs by James Asmus out there, and a quick Google search shows that it’s recently come back under the new title of Quantum and Woody Must Die!. Sooooo…I know what’s next on my pull list.

Off I go to acquire some more Quantum and Woody! Maybe you should too? And until next time, Servo Lectio!

Emily S. Whitten’s Snow Stories

BlizzardBy the time you read this, we’ll have a much better idea of whether the snow predictions for Winter Storm Juno in the Northeast were accurate, but starting on Sunday with a tweet from the Bowery Boys, I had already started seeing people wondering if this would be a historic blizzard like the Great Blizzard of 1888 (or the apparently lesser-known but just as terrifyingly fascinating Children’s Blizzard of 1888).

The post from the Bowery Boys site (which is worth a read or a click for the pictures alone) stirred my memory – hadn’t I read something else once about the Blizzard of 1888? I didn’t really remember it as its own thing, but something was there. It took me a few minutes of cogitation, but I finally recalled Voices After Midnight by Richard Peck, a children’s or young adult book I read when I was nine or ten, that flip-flops between the story of a modern family who vacations in a historic New York City house and the story of the family that lived in the house before and during the time of the Great Blizzard. It’s a great book for that age group (singled out by Publishers Weekly for its careful historical background), and key events take place during the blizzard. Years after reading it, I can still recall tiny descriptive details about those key scenes, because they are so vividly described and seemed so real.

What I found funny, as I thought about it, was that the book is, as far as I can recall, my only prior encounter with the Blizzard of 1888. Here is one of the biggest snowstorms on record, which killed over 400 people and immobilized New York City for a week, and I only knew it from a fictional children’s book. But then again, it’s really not that odd after all, is it? We learn all the time about real things by reading fictional works, because anyone who’s a writer or even a regular reader knows that “truth is stranger than fiction” is more than a tired old cliché, and that often the things that stick in the mind the most in a good book are the ones that the author has pulled from reality (albeit with tweaks or modifications to fit them to the fictional world).

Often the best work we do is that which we’ve managed to base on something that really happened or some blazingly unique individual who was utterly real. Fiction that has been informed by a wider reality, no matter how otherwise fantastical it may be, is more gripping than the stuff that comes purely out of our own heads – because even the most creative of us can’t imagine the heights and depths to which other humans can rise and sink without observing them, or the potential that each of us has inside without seeing it come to fruition. And even the most creative of us might not be up to imagining a snowstorm that piled snow to the fourth floors of New York City houses, and toppled entire streets-worth of telegraph poles.

These thoughts dovetailed with a conversation I’d been having with a fellow writer, about the little life details that we find which inspire us to create more in-depth characters and worlds, and reminded me in turn of something Terry Pratchett once shared with me during an interview, about a beaded stone bracelet he’d once bought at a convention silent auction, that inspired the scene in Wintersmith (one of my all-time favorite Discworld books) in which Tiffany Aching sees the heart of Summer. It’s a beautiful scene; and it’s these little real things that become the building blocks of the bigger story for writers, and the reason why writers like Pratchett and Neil Gaiman consistently discuss reading non-fiction works (like Henry Mayhew’s London Labour and the London Poor) when talking about what inspires or helps their writing.

Just like fiction can be a door to a reality we’ve never encountered before, like the Blizzard of 1888, reality is what gives our fiction many of its best moments. As a journalist, I was trained to look for both the facts and the angles of a story I’m reporting – and likewise, as a fiction writer, I can’t help but muse on all the myriad interesting facts and odd story angles that existed in the events of March 11-14, 1888 in New York City alone, and what kind of fictional stories they could inspire (like a story about Augustus Post, who survived the 1888 blizzard and went on to scoff at the 25 inches of snow that came down during a blizzard in 1947. I bet he’d be a fun guy to write about). It’s a little bit mind-boggling, but also comforting, to think of all the material out there – especially when I’m feeling the effects of writer’s block. Because no matter what, there’s always going to be something waiting to inspire; and just like looking for the facts and the angle as a journalist, as a fiction writer looking to create a good story you just have to seek it out.

So off I go, looking for that inspiration, and saying unto all of you in the meantime, stay warm and safe out there, and until next time, Servo Lectio!

 

Emily S. Whitten: The Music of Sherlock Holmes

This past weekend, Sherlock Holmes fans from all over the world gathered in New York City to celebrate Holmes’ birthday at the annual BSI Weekend, hosted in main part by The Baker Street Irregulars, a Sherlockian literary society founded by Christopher Morley in 1934. As a longtime Holmes fan myself, this was my third year attending, and, as before, I had a great time with Sherlockian friends old and new, discussing and honoring the great detective, his faithful chronicler Dr. Watson, and the peripheral cast of characters (including the original BSI, Holmes’ group of street urchin informants) created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

 

I first attended the BSI Weekend in January 2012 after organizing a Sherlock Holmes Night at The National Press Club and learning in the process about our local Sherlockian scion society, The Red Circle, and the BSI Weekend celebrations. And in honor of the BSI and Sherlock Holmes, today I figured I’d share something I put together while organizing that party – to wit, a little soundtrack of music that Holmes could conceivably have been listening to in the midst of his adventures, based on mentions in the canon of musicians and concerts he enjoyed.

I’ll be the first to admit that there are other fans around who are probably more serious Sherlockian scholars than I, and in fact, before I even realized that the BSI was out there as a Sherlockian society, I was using some of its work as a resource for compiling my little playlist (thank you, Baker Street Journal online archives). However, thanks to a little sleuthing and deduction of my own, despite there being more serious discussions of Holmes and music to be had, I am able to here provide a quick-and-easy list of compositions that are actually available and easily acquirable by anyone via, e.g., iTunes. So if scholarship is all well and good but what you’re really in the mood for is an efficient means of acquiring tunes that Holmes may have enjoyed as he processed clues while you snuggle up with your favorite bit of the canon on a snowy day, I can recommend the list below for your Sherlockian music needs.

  • Violin Concerto No. 7 in e Minor, Op. 38: II. Adagio – Takako Nishizaki, Capella Istropolitana & Libor Pesek
  • Song Without Words – Felix Mendelssohn
  • Sonata in D Major, Op. 1 No. 13 (HWV 371): I. Affetuoso – Andrew Manze & Richard Egarr
  • Sonata in D Major, Op. 1 No. 13 (HWV 371): II. Allegro – Andrew Manze & Richard Egarr
  • Sonata in D Major, Op. 1 No. 13 (HWV 371): III. Larghetto – Andrew Manze & Richard Egarr
  • Sonata in D Major, Op. 1 No. 13 (HWV 371): IV. Allegro – Andrew Manze & Richard Egarr
  • Barcarolle from the Tales of Hoffmann (Act 2) – Jacques Offenbach
  • Airs Ecossais, Op. 34 – Adele Anthony & Akira Eguchi
  • String Quartet in C Major, Op. 29: I. Allegro Moderato – Academy of St. Martin in the Fields Chamber Ensemble
  • String Quartet in C Major, Op. 29:II. Adagio molto Espressivo – Academy of St. Martin in the Fields Chamber Ensemble
  • String Quartet in C Major, Op. 29:III. Scherzo: Allegro – Academy of St. Martin in the Fields Chamber Ensemble
  • String Quartet in C Major, Op. 29:IV. Presto – Academy of St. Martin in the Fields Chamber Ensemble
  • Nocturne No. 18 in E, Op. 62, No. 2 – Vladimir Ashkenazy
  • 24 Caprices Op. 1 for Solo Violin: No., 18 in C – Nicolo Paganini
  • Barcarolle in F Sharp Major, Op. 60 – Alwin Bär
  • Sonata for Violin and Piano No. 3 in D Minor, Op. 108: I. Allegro – Nikolaj Znaider & Yefim Bronfman
  • Sonata for Violin and Piano No. 2 in A Major, Op. 100: II. Andante Tranquillo – Nikolaj Znaider & Yefim Bronfman
  • Sonata for Violin and Piano No. 2 in A Major, Op. 100: III. Allegretto Grazioso (quasi Andante) – Nikolaj Znaider & Yefim Bronfman

Enjoy! And if you are of a more scholarly bent and are curious as to why these songs were chosen, here are a few of the resources I used in compiling them: Music, Musicians, and Composers in The Canon, The Avant-Garde Sherlock Holmes, and Sherlock Holmes and Music.

 

Until next time, the game’s afoot – so Servo Lectio!

 

Emily S. Whitten: Small Stories Writ Large

This week, Marvel released both the “ant-sized” and then “human-sized” trailers for Ant-Man. A clever marketing trick, and one that made me smile.

It also got me thinking – not particularly about the Ant-Man movie, although I am curious to see how it turns out, but about a couple of movies released in 2014 and why I liked them so much. Those movies were Guardians of the Galaxy and Mockingjay (Part I).

In Guardians, as I’m sure everyone knows by now, Marvel took one of their lesser-known properties and made a big, big splash with it. It really is a wild, fun ride – and I think one of the reasons for that is that the property was a bit more obscure. That perhaps (or at least this is what I extrapolate from the end result) allowed the studio not to take it all too seriously even in the realm of their Epic Marvel Movie Plan, and not to forget that comics are supposed to be fun; symbolic; intense; hopeful; and sometimes ridiculous.

From a talking raccoon and a pretty goofy prison break to the amazingly heartwarming moments with Groot, the movie definitely did things a little differently than what we may have come to expect from our superhero films (while, to be fair, still hitting the big-budget notes of explosions and fight scenes and daring space escapes). Even the end credits scene was a little wink and a nod to the fans. And that sense of individuality and fun made Guardians stand out in my mind.

Mockingjay (Part I) stands out for a different reason. This is the third of four movies in a fairly serious and intense storyline based on The Hunger Games book series, and sure, it has fight scenes, and planes crashing from the sky, and all of that – but mostly, what it has is a series of small moments, just like in the first half of the third book it is based on. Moments of character development that make the whole sense of the movie quiet but intense. Scenes between Plutarch and Coin, or Katniss and Snow. Scenes like Katniss at the river, or Peeta being “interviewed” on TV. Scenes that look at one small space in time and how the characters in the story are being shaped by it. And that’s something that, while we get it all the time in books, is often not translated well to or given time on the big screen.

Even in book-to-movie transitions, the translators of great stories often fail to understand the draw of quiet moments of character development, and that they can be done well to build the story on the screen. (One sad example of this is The Seeker, which was a not-so-successful translation of Susan Cooper’s excellent young adult fantasy series The Dark is Rising.)

What’s interesting about both of these movies is that although very different, they share the thread of small stories writ large – either in the sense of more obscure properties being brought bombastically into the limelight, or of little bits of people’s characters being slowly threaded together into a greater story. And that through this, they also brought me either a sense of joy and fun or a sense of emotional involvement. What’s also interesting is the lack of that sense in some of the action, superhero, or fantasy movies out there in the last few years (Man of Steel being a glaring example, despite the enjoyment of seeing Henry Cavill on the big screen).

It continues to puzzle me why some movies forget that they are supposed to be fun, or interesting and unique, or at the very least true to their written origins when they have them. While I don’t necessarily think studios are losing that insight altogether, I do think it’s nice to remind them sometimes of why I, at least, like to see movies – not for the mindless big-budget fight scenes and explosions, or the clichéd and predictable good-versus-bad standoff, but for the fun, the excitement of something new and different, the sense of hope or meaning, or the insights that can leak out of fiction to inform our views of reality.

So movie studios, this is just me saying, at the start of 2015: in the midst of all the business of moviemaking, please don’t forget to make your movies fun, or meaningful, or (hopefully) both. Thanks.

And until next time, Servo Lectio!

 

Emily S. Whitten: Deadpool’s New Year’s Resolutions

DeadpoolAs everyone knows, it’s a time-honored New Year’s tradition to not only make resolutions about all of the things you are really going to do better in the coming year, but also to share them with friends so they can encourage you to not be a bum and totally forget about all of your well-meaning promises. So naturally, my bestie Deadpool sent me a draft of his list and, just as naturally, I figured all of you would want to see it so you can be inspired towards your own lofty New Year’s goals. Therefore:

Deadpool’s List of Stuff I’m Definitely Going To Do Sometime In 2015… Probably:

  • Wash that weirdly pulsating pile of uniforms in the corner of the bedroom before it escapes and eats New York. Use actual detergent and stuff.
  • Kill/maim/otherwise injure more bad people
  • …Don’t kill/maim/otherwise injure any more good people?
  • Send Ryan Reynolds flowers (again) (and another cell phone with me as #1 on speed dial!)
  • Make paper-Mache Dogpool sculpture with that pile of Taco Bell receipts I keep tripping over (fulfills therapist’s requirement for “fun therapeutic crafts”)
  • Karaoke with Doctor Doom! (Track down Doctor Doom and drag him to karaoke)
  • Break record for Most Twinkies Eaten In One Sitting
  • Be in the next Avengers movie! As Iron Man’s best bud. (freeze Cap again?)
  • Finally figure out how to get drunk with a healing factor
  • Read all of my back issues of Soldier of Fortune
  • Be nice(r) to old ladies (in memory of my beloved Bea)
  • Replace Spider-Man’s web shooter fluid with neon Silly String. Again. :D :D :D
  • Perfect my patented Triple-Decker Killer Hot Fudge Sundae (needs more caramel?)
  • Always get paid for jobs before accepting them. Especially when Taskmaster is involved.
  • Find Bob a life.
  • More. Chimichangas!

Hope that helped you to figure out all the amazing things you want to resolve to do in 2015! Good luck with that.

And until next time, Happy New Year and Servo Lectio!

 

Emily S. Whitten: ‘Tis the Season…

…For the Winter Blargh, that is. I don’t know why, but it seems inevitable that at least once a winter I get struck down by the Blargh. Sometimes it’s just for a couple of days. This year’s has been particularly harsh, as it’s been over a week and symptoms are still lingering.

So, alas, my energy levels are a bit low, and my wit is not sparkling or even really sparking right now, and when Neuron 1 in my brain says to Neuron 2, “It is time to think of exciting things to write about,” Neuron 2 says, “What? I’m sorry, I can’t think about anything at all except maybe my primary occupation of Staring Blankly At Things While Considering All The Stuff I’m Not Getting Done As The Holidays Rush Towards Me.” And then I cough.

However, just because I’m a little blah doesn’t mean you need to be! So in lieu of my usual writing, here is my version of Season’s Greetings From DC, a.k.a. a link to the USAF Band’s Holiday Flash Mob 2014 at the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. I’ve never gotten to see it in person (yet!) but it’s pretty cool. So enjoy!

And until next time, Servo Lectio!

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