Blockade Billy

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There’s a thing that happens when Stephen King books come out, and it is this: I buy them and read them. Of course, sometimes they slip by me unnoticed for a little while; and for that matter, sometimes they should. Blockade Billy and its companion piece are not bad stories, by any means. I enjoyed them both! And despite the tiny size of the book, I only paid paperback pricing or so, and even for a book that only took about a day to read the lot of, it’s not like I feel ripped off by undersizedness or anything. The only real problem I have is that the two stories (one about the meteoric rise and precipitous fall of an eponymous baseball catcher, the other about an indecent proposal) are both too short to really count as a book, and now I feel like I should be reading the rest of a short story collection that I do not, in fact, have to hand.

Leave ’em wanting more is one thing, but I’m pretty sure leaving ’em entirely unsatisfied is a bad motto. And it’s a pity, because the first story especially was quite good. I should caveat that it was very baseball-heavy, though, as some people who are insane don’t like baseball.

Jack of Fables: The (Nearly) Great Escape

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A few volumes ago, I made reference to my knowledge (garnered through the publishing industry) that Jack Horner, the same Jack who climbs beanstalks and kills giants, would be getting his own spin-off comic series soon. That was true, of course, and I’ve finally reached the point in publication order where his book interrupts the straight-through Fables series. (Which, by the way, is wow, long series. And I think it has no end in sight? So that’s a thing.) The Jack of Fables series picks up exactly where his story in the main continuity left off: with Jack once again on the wrong side of Fable law and in pursuit of a new way to re-create his wealth, fame, and generally easy lifestyle that he so richly deserves. Just ask him!

As the title of this first volume implies, he is almost immediately derailed in these intentions by his capture into a home for the dissolution of fables. Being the type who is not generally fond of being forgotten, he immediately sets about getting out. From there, adventure, chaos, and some amount of comedy ensue. The exact amount depends mostly upon just how much you are either willing to accept Jack’s conceit that he really is the most important person anyone he meets will ever meet, or upon how much you’re willing to accept the authors’ backhanded irony within Jack’s conceit. I’m split about halfway down the middle, laughing with him and at him in equal measure. If you find him intolerably boorish (which is fair!) and annoying conceited (which is even moreso), then you’ll probably hate not just the book but the whole series. In which case, I hope the eventual crossover is not much different than when Jack was just one of the characters in the series and will require no other knowledge to follow along with. That would be unfair.

Inception

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Inception is troubling to me, for a few reasons. There are a lot of reviews floating around the internet today talking about how amazing it is, spending a sentence or three doing so, amping up expectations beyond all reason. And they’re not saying much of anything else. For my part, I guess what is troubling me is that I can’t think of a better way to handle the situation. Because, as much as I hate the expectations game, the movie really is as good as people are saying, and I really don’t want to say anything about it either.

Still, it’s my job and I’m gonna. So. It’s like an Ocean’s Eleven heist caper, done up with sci-fi trappings and a psychological thriller hook. And with an overly dramatic soundtrack that lends an extra dose of portent to every single scene. Honestly, that part is unfortunate because the film as scripted and shot is plenty enough portentous on its own, with all kinds of moral questions to consider and dramatic fates to create or avoid. I’ve seen a few other complaints, for the most part equally nitpicky, and while I understand them, this is the only one that really bothered me.

At the end of the review, my point is this: maybe the movie has been oversold for you, and that’s a damned shame if so. But go see it anyway, because regardless of how you walk out of the theater feeling about it, you’ll regret it if you don’t get to be in on the discussion. Folks will be talking about this one for a while.

Ultimate Iron Man: Armor Wars

My recent history with Iron Man has been an odd one. The original run of comics has become truly terrible over the course of the early ’70s, the second movie was only serviceable, and the two previous solo comics in the Ultimate series were not to my taste. Despite that, I have consistently loved the character of Tony Stark in every format with which I am presented, and certainly he always works great in other, more collaborative works. Why can’t I find a consistently good solo run of Iron Man stories?[1]

Meanwhile, the Ultimate Comics brand has launched[2] in the same continuity as Marvel’s Ultimate series, only different I guess for publishing purposes? In any event, it’s right after the Ultimatum event, complete with destroyed New York City and a real dearth of living superheroes and -villains. This dearth does not include Tony Stark, who has escaped with his life and [in the collapsing economy, still] hundreds of millions of dollars. It does include the realization that his technology has slipped its bonds and there are suddenly people in advanced military suits all over the western world. And it’s Tony’s job (because it’s his responsibility? because of his pride? I guess the real question is whether those concerns are even extricable in his psyche) to get into Armor Wars with them to put at least this small corner of the brave new world aright.

The thing is… I mean, it was pretty good, right? But in all honesty, I think I liked it more because it was better than what I’ve been used to seeing than because it was an objective upgrade to the solo Iron Man oeuvre. At the very least, though, I’m glad this was Tony Stark in the full bloom of his ego instead of another chapter in his iffy origin story.

[1] I should note that I have faith in the badness of the current ’70s run being finite, and frankly also that I expect Iron Man 3 to be pretty great. Y’know, someday.
[2] Well, probably last year in real life, but the graphic novels have only launched over the past few months, which means I am approximately live on these books from here forward.

Boneshaker

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Oftentimes, I do not read Hugo-nominated novels. Basically, any times. This is not by design, and I’m sure you could prove to me that I’ve read several by pointing things out on a list, but I’m at least never aware of it. I wonder if next year I will start? It would at least be an interesting change of pace. This matters to you because my good friend Skwid lent me Boneshaker, on the premise that it was a steampunk/zombie crossover novel and I would therefore like it. Which is plausibly a fair assumption to make.

So, anyway, I did.

Longer review: yes, it’s Seattle steampunk set in the late 19th Century, yes, it has differently-named zombies, yes, it has wholly gratuitous zeppelin chase scenes. Yes, it has a lightning fast pace that would be well suited to future filming. But at its heart, it’s a family drama about parents and children, husbands and wives, learning how to let go and when to hold on. It sounds insulting to say that if you removed the steampunk zombies and gratuitous zeppelins, I could find this story on the Lifetime Movie Network a dozen times a week, but it isn’t. It isn’t insulting at all, because Cherie Priest made me fail to hate the idea of reading [or watching] that story, and it turns out that (as you’d expect) it’s a pretty good story indeed when told interestingly rather than hand-wringingly. I have of course no idea whether it’s better than the other Hugo-nominated books, nor am I likely to. But yeah, maybe next year?

Predators

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One of the things I liked the most about Predators (and make no mistake, there were very few things I didn’t like) is that it did not concern itself with reasons. Why are there skillfully violent people being dropped out of the clear blue sky? Who armed them to the teeth with things they know how to use? How did they even get here? That doesn’t matter, all that matters is, here they are. And they’ve got to find a way to survive against the deadliest hunters in the universe, all while learning to trust each other, work as a team, and somehow keep Eric from That 70s Show alive (as he is also here for some reason). Or they’ve got to die messily, one by one, with no hope of rescue or escape.

Which is another thing I like about the movie, it did not waste any more time on the premise than it did on reasons. Within five minutes, the movie is going all out and it doesn’t ever really stop. It’s possible that the original Schwarzenegger-driven Predator is the better movie, but only possible; I have seen no better movie that had a Predator in it, without a doubt. This is probably not the best sequel ever, but it is hard to imagine crafting a sequel to a movie that would fit the spirit of its originator any better than this one did.

Despicable Me

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You know how people describe some kid movies as being funny for adults too? Just to give you an idea of how this played out in Despicable Me, the joke that stands out in my head involves supervillain Gru going to the Bank of Evil to take out a loan to finance his plot to steal the moon, and seeing the notice that the Bank of Evil was “formerly Lehman Bros.” So you see.[1] On the bright side, the kid part of the movie was reasonably okay. Gru, who I already mentioned is a supervillain, is in competition with the rest of the supervillain community to pull off the world’s greatest heist. Along the way, he adopts three girls for use in a cookie-selling scheme, and learns valuable lessons about the importance of placing family above work. And I mean, it really is that facile, but it was occasionally funny in ways that were not directed at adults and it was sweet as well, in the ways you’d expect a kid movie with orphans to be. I liked it well enough to regret neither the time nor money, though certainly not well enough to seek it out again. Whether my like can be correlated to the half of a 40 ounce margarita that I imbibed over the course of the flick can be left as an exercise to the reader.

[1] Dear adult readers of Shards of Delirium, please fill out this simple survey. Do you find the referenced joke a) funny or b) an eye-rollingly insulting and yet simultaneously ultra-apt demonstration of the phrase “funny for adults”? Please do not fill out the survey if you are a child reader of Shards of Delirium.[2]
[2] In the interest of equal time: dear child readers of Shards of Delirium, please fill out this simple survey. Do you love bunnies because they are a) fuzzy or b) fluffy?

Dinner for Schmucks

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Imagine you work in “business”, by which I mean the generic everyjob that seems to only exist in Hollywood’s imagination, where people are trying to get a promotion for a corner office, and there’s a meeting in a long room with the boss at the head of the table and people throw out ideas and are called on one at a time and so forth. Got it? Now, imagine that you are about to get that corner office, only you have to impress your boss at a monthly dinner he hosts by (along with all the other invitees) bringing along a complete moron, convincing these people that they’re awesome and up for a prize, and then setting them loose. I mean, it can’t be just any moron, it has to be someone special, like a blind fencer or a ventriloquist who is married to his puppet, or a guy who creates dioramas out of mouse taxidermy. You are now in the midst of a moral quandary, because you’re basically an okay everyperson, and yet this is your only way up the ladder. Oh, and you’re also in a screwball French comedy.

I believe I have now adequately described Dinner for Schmucks, excepting only to add that it was quite a bit funnier than even the fairly decent previews indicated and that it really made a point of working that Steve Carell connection to get a lot of Daily Show people on screen. Good for them! If you like watching funny movies in theaters, you should give it a peek in a couple of weeks when it actually gets released.

Silent Hill: Dying Inside

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They say you can never go home again. Then again, they also say that home is the one place where, if you go there, they have to let you in. What is interesting to me about Silent Hill is that it is somehow the opposite of both of these things at once. Silent Hill is a place where, if you go there, it slithers inside of you and you can never really leave again. Which is why I find the games compelling enough that even though I only ever beat the first one, and with the worst possible ending, I still want to go back and play through the whole series. Which would I suppose be easier if I owned any of them.

This makes it all the more disappointing just how non-good the (apparently first in a series) graphic novelization is. Dying Inside follows a film student, a lauded psychologist, and a punk chick as they interact with the disturbingly empty (although, often it is even more disturbingly not-empty) town of Silent Hill, where a person’s bad thoughts have a way of doing more than haunting them, and really of haunting more than just them. It’s like a horrifying state of mind given flesh, and sidewalks, and hospitals and elementary schools. The story is sufficiently creepy, and has the seed of a really great concept, about a girl’s guilt over losing her little sister at the mall in pretty much the most horrible way imaginable. But the execution is almost total failure, with direction changes that come out of nowhere and plot elements that barely make any sense, even when taken as a whole after the fact. Or it’s possible that it would have been fine if I had not been so distracted by the art, which bleeds all over the page, one panel indistinguishable from the next. And that style could have been very effective as a means of demonstrating the breakdown in reality between Silent Hill and the outside world, except that it was used indiscriminately from the first page to the last. So it could be that it was the art I couldn’t follow and the plot was just fine, instead? I don’t know or really care, because I have forgotten to even write this review for the past two or three days. Not dreaded it or wondered what to say, but consistently forgotten I had even read the book.

That probably makes my point better than any of the rest. Still, it was in some way effective, because damn if I don’t wanna play me some Silent Hill! (Did I ever mention it was originally a video game? Oops.)

Lucifer: Crux

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I have spotted my point of failure as a reader of the Lucifer series. All the way back in (judging by the covers[1]) the first volume of the series, there’s this performer named Jill Presto who is forcibly impregnated by a sentient deck of cards called the Basanos. And it’s an obviously important element of the plot of both the first and several of the later stories. And although in each case it’s obvious why she’s there and what’s going on, it is an inescapable fact that I cannot keep a sense of her and her doings as she relates to the arc of the story. I probably just haven’t tried, when you get right down to it? At least I know what I’ll be especially watching for when I do a someday reread. But it’s just sad to me that no matter how easily I can follow or at least unravel the rest of the plot and respectably examine the themes, there’s still this whole character that I have a blind spot for.

That said, the rest of Crux, the part that I was caught up with and able to follow along, I mean? Solid transition book in which I do, in fact, get to see more of Lilith, just as I had requested. I’m not sure yet if this was a mistake on my part. After the previous volume’s escalation toward Armageddon, every moment of Crux was set at that eponymous balance point before the plunge, getting the characters into position for the great conflict of our age. It was, y’know, successful at that, and even in plot-based transition Carey has a good eye for storytelling. Still, that next climactic book? I am hoping for big, unexpected things!

[1] Which you should never, ever do.