Programming Update

So, I said I’d be back in the start of December, and, well, I sort of am? But only to say that this is it for the year.

I did get the short story finished up for the new Henlo Press anthology. It’s called “OOPS Is In Effect” and is, as they say in Hollywood, very loosely inspired by real events. It’s a fun one and I’ll let y’all know when and where you can read it.

As for books, I decided that rather than start another project I would double back up on The Fall. I’ve gotten some very useful feedback on it which has made me rethink an important part of it. Essentially, I’m retooling the first several chapters to setup the conflict better and deepen the main character’s connection to the titular event.

As a result, I’ve decided to keep my nose to that grindstone for the rest of the year. So, Happy Holidays and all that jazz and I’ll see you in January (seriously!) with my annual favorites of the year posts.

Blog Hiatus

It’s that time of the year again. Even though National Novel Writing Month is officially dead, I still think of November as a month to lay other things aside and focus on writing, so that’s what I’m going to do. Things will be silent for a while around here as I, hopefully, make some progress on a couple of projects.


First will be a short story for the third volume of Old Bones, the journal of the Henlo Press. The inspiration is worms. I think I’ve got a fun angle on it.

Then I’m planning to dive into my next novel (The Fall is still percolating through the editing process, don’t worry!). At this point it will probably be the sequel to The Triplets of Tennerton, as the prep work for it is largely done. That said, who knows if something else might catch my fancy in the next couple of weeks before November starts?

Tune back in around the start of December to find out!

“Which One Is Your Favorite?”

Last weekend, at the Writer’s Block event hosted by Henlo Press, I had a discussion with a potential customer that threw me for a loop. Surveying my books, she asked, “which one is your favorite?” It’s a harder question than you’d think and one I’d never put any real thought into.

The cliched answer for an artist is to say that their newest project (either the just-released one they’re promoting or the one that’s about to come out) is their favorite, which I suppose makes some sense. The latest work is the one into which you’ve most recently poured your heart and soul. It’s very front of mind. And, of course, it’s new and shiny and you want people to buy it?

But, in my experience at least, the latest project is often your least favorite, at least in some ways. It’s also the one you’ve just sweated over and bled for, the one you’ve wrestled into a final form that is “done” but you think could probably be better if you just spent another week/month/year/decade working on it. Once I’m done with a book I’m sort of “and good riddance!”, at least for a little while.

A year on from the release of The Triplets of Tennerton that feeling has pretty much gone away. I’m quite proud of it and think of it as my “best” work, given that it’s the culmination of everything I’ve learned and practiced over the past 15 years or so of writing fiction. But is that the same thing as being my “favorite”? It’s a hard question.

Without doubt, Moore Hollow would be an easy choice for favorite, since it was my first novel (I love The Last Ereph for being its gawky, awkwardness and it being the real first book, but it’s not in consideration for “favorite”). It was, after all, the proof that I could do this and got me out there talking to people about stories I was telling, which is awesome! That said, Moore Hollow (and Triplets) are both more or less set in the “real” world.

It wasn’t until The Water Road (and its sequels) that I dove head first into the kind of ground-up world building that’s been a part of so many stories I’ve loved over the years. If Moore Hollow was proof I could write a novel, The Water Road was proof I could create a world and bring readers into a place that only existed in my mind. I was able to tell a full, compelling story of a world that doesn’t exist, filled with “people” who aren’t even human, and that doesn’t include typical fantasy magic. How could that not be my favorite?

But then again, the Gods of the Empire and its sequels showed I could do it all again! I can’t speak for other creators, but I kind of always feel, in the back of my head, that when I finish one book that I might never finish another. So being able to put The Water Road trilogy to bed and turning to a completely different world and build it up from scratch made me feel pretty good. It was a different experience doing it with what I’d learned from The Water Road in my head. So that trilogy is maybe tighter and more put together than the first?

All this goes to show that I can’t actually name a favorite book and, in fact, it’s not a great question to ask a creative person. Would you ask me to choose a favorite between these two?

Of course you wouldn’t!

The better question, if you’re ever in the same position as my potential reader this weekend, is “which would you recommend?” That turns the focus from what I think to what you, the reader, is looking for. You like semi-mysteries with a dash of the paranormal and a smart-ass protaganist? I’ve got that. Epic fantasy, with deep political and social world building, but not worried about the absence of magic or human beings? That, too. Something steampunky? Lemme show you these.

Because, ultimately, it doesn’t matter what I think or feel about my own work. It’s about how best I can match you up with a new book you’re going to love.

On Historical Fiction

Years ago – I mean years ago  – I remembered Roger Ebert describing Michael Bay’s Pearl Harbor in this withering way:

“Pearl Harbor” is a two-hour movie squeezed into three hours, about how on Dec. 7, 1941, the Japanese staged a surprise attack on an American love triangle.

At the time I thought that was just a good burn on a bad, schlocky, blockbuster (surely less entertaining than the commentary track for whichever Kevin Smith film it was where they bust on co-star Ben Affleck relentlessly for it), but the more I think about it, Ebert’s observation identifies a key difficulty when it comes to historical fiction – are you telling a story about a historical event or about people in a historical time who might be impacted by it?

That dilemma hit me recently as I read a pair of books built around a period of local history known as the West Virginia Mine Wars. They take very different approaches to the material which left one much more successful than the other, at least for me.

The first was Rednecks, by Taylor Brown.

“Rednecks,” for those not familiar, was the term used to describe striking miners who would tie a red bandana around their necks (it was derogatory at first, then adopted by the miners). The book Rednecks acts almost as a kind of sequel to the great John Sayles’ film Matewan, starting with the “Matewan Massacre” that was the culmination of the film. It then tells of the events that led to the Battle of Blair Mountain, the largest armed conflict in the United States since the Civil War (so far, at least).

The second book was Storming Heaven, by Denise Giardina.

While it ends in roughly the same place as Rednecks, Storming Heaven covers the whole of the Mine Wars period, starting with the railroads coming into the West Virginia/Kentucky border area in the 1890s and buying up property using sketchy methods.

Beyond that, the two books differ in whose story is being told. The main characters in Rednecks are a local doctor (of Lebanese extraction, apparently inspired by one of the author’s ancestors) and a miner, both fictional, but lots of the smaller roles are filled by real people – Mother Jones, Sid Hatfield, and such. We get chapters from their points-of-view and some big speeches that are probably historically accurate. The downside is that they tend to drain the momentum of the main characters’ stories and can come off like one of those “you are there!” books for young readers.

By contrast, in Storming Heaven all the characters are fictional. They do occasionally interact with real people and some are fictional takes on real people – Sid Hatfield, for instance, gets a doppelganger who is also assassinated on the courthouse steps. In fact, the book takes place in a couple of fictional counties (one in West Virginia, on in Kentucky), but manages to interact with the “real world” enough to retain a sense of realism.

The result is that Rednecks feels like a book that was written to bring knowledge of a particular historical event to the public via fiction. That’s a noble pursuit and it’s certainly a mode of fiction that does a lot of work across literature, film, and TV. What it doesn’t really feel like is a story of people, characters, who feel alive and real in their own. I was far more engaged with Rednecks when it focused on the fictional doc and miner than when it leaned on actual historical figures.

Storming Heaven, by contrast feels like a fully fleshed out work of fiction that happens to be set during a particular historical period. I didn’t care about the characters because of the events they were living through, I cared about them as individuals. In the process, I think you get a better feel for what the historical period was like. No doubt, Rednecks is a lot more granular in terms of how Blair Mountain went down, but Storming Heaven hits harder emotionally, even with less historical detail.

I did an interview recently where I said that the most important element in good writing is building interesting characters. If you don’t care about the people to whom the events of the story are happening nothing else really matters. I think details of events are better left to non-fiction, to the work of historians and journalists. Historical fiction works best when it’s trying to capture the feeling of what it meant to live during the time period involved.

Or you can do what I do and plunder history for ideas and turn them into fantasy or sci-fi stories. Then there’s no worry about getting history “right” because the history is whatever you think it should be!

The Fault In Those Stars

A few weeks ago I finished up Kay Chronister’s The Bog Wife.

While doing my usual post-reading due diligence I pulled up the book’s Goodreads page to read some reviews and the follow conversation occurred:

MY WIFE: Are you going to read that?

ME: I just finished it.

MY WIFE: What did you think?

ME: *makes that pretty good/not great tilting hand gesture* Not bad. Three stars.

MY WIFE: Why do you say that?

ME: Are you going to read it, too?

MY WIFE: Probably not, if you only think it’s worth three stars.

I proceeded to explain to my wife my thoughts on the book (long story short – I liked the basic idea, but thought it was going somewhere more interesting and the ending felt rushed). At bottom, I’m glad I read it, but didn’t find it particularly compelling.

This got me thinking about the whole star-based rating system that is so prevalent these days. What’s a “good” star rating? What’s a “bad” one? Is there a better way of doing things?

It’s natural to want to rate something you’ve read, heard, or watched. At bottom the ultimate decision is one reflected by the old Siskel & Ebert system – thumbs up or down? Is this a movie you’d recommend to others or is it not? That’s all you really need to know, but such a system can give odd false positives. All you need to do is check out Rotten Tomatoes, where a “fresh” score can be the product of lots of good, but not great, reviews just as easily as hordes of fawning ones.

As an example, we got a chance to see Fantastic Four: First Steps in the theater (one with recliners for seating – not bad!). It currently has an 87% “certified fresh” rating, which makes it sound like a world beater. By contrast, reading the actual reviews (like this one from the AV Club) shows some nuance – the movie is generally good, but flawed in ways that might make some not care for it.

Given that, it’s not surprising that people will wind up trying to come up with something more “objective” (it’s not – this is art we’re talking about) and granular, something that you can use to compare works to each other.

For that, the star system has the potential to work out pretty well. Particularly if you’re using the 5-star system you see at places like Librarything, Letterboxd, and Rate Your Music. Particularly when you can give half stars (I’m looking at you, Goodreads) it helps make some really fine distinction between works. The problem is not everybody thinks the stars all mean the same thing.

Everybody can agree that a 5-star review is a rave and a 1-star a pan (some systems even allow for the dreaded 0.5 star, which I’ve done twice at Rate Your Music). But just about anything else is a free-fire zone, it seems to me. Look at just about any work with reviews and you’ll see it. Here are some snippets from 3-star Goodreads reviews of some recent books I’ve read:

But, also:

For what it’s worth, when I first started cataloging things at Rate Your Music I tried to come up with a rhyme and reason for ratings and this is what I came up with (it’s a Stickie note on my PC desktop):

As you can see, I think anything at 3 stars or over is “good.” In some ways, I respect reviews more that are a little bit skeptical, aware of flaws in something. It pains me to say this as an author, but pretty much every artistic endeavor in the history of humankind has flaws in it. Any great pillar of literature or any piece of music that makes you weak in the knees is probably flawed in some way – hell, the flaws may be part of its charm! So when I see 1-star reviews with short “this sucks!” or 5-star reviews with equally short “this is the best!” I tend to ignore them.

Don’t get me wrong – as a writer I love getting 5-star reviews! But as a reader or viewer or listener I find the less-than-loving reviews to be more interesting and, in a way, to tell me more about the work than ones that are just full  of praise.

So, I suppose my takeaway here is to encourage people not to be scared away from checking out a particular work because it gets a less-than-five-star review. There’s a lot of real estate between “rules!” and “sucks!” and you may find a new favorite in there. It’s not the stars that matter, it’s the reasons for giving them that counts.

ADDENDUM: It occurred to me, as I was posting this, that this might come across as a long way of saying “my wife was wrong” in deciding not to read The Bog Wife based on my thoughts on it. One of the things about listening to reviews – or, more specifically, reviewers – is that you can learn how well your tastes and preferences match them. If you know a critic likes the same stuff you do and they love something, it’s probably worth checking out. On the other hand, if your significant other whose tastes you know is lukewarm about it so you are too? It’s all good.

Highs and Lows

When I found out earlier this year that a new Spike Lee Joint was on the way, I was excited. When I found out it was an adaptation of an Akira Kurosawa film – one I’d not yet seen – I was doubly thrilled. So how does Highest 2 Lowest compare to High and Low? Not as well as it might have, but I kind of think that’s the point. There will be spoilers aplenty!

It’s worth noting that both movies have their roots in a 1950s hard-boiled detective novel, King’s Ransom by Ed McBain.

No, not that McBain. “Ed McBain” was a pen name of Evan Hunter, who also wrote the book The Blackboard Jungle (on which the movie was based) and the screenplay for The Birds. King’s Ransom was part of a series of books dealing with a particular group of cops and tells the story of a wealthy magnate (named King, hence the title) who, while angling to take over his company, learns that his son has been kidnapped. The twist is that the kidnapped kid is actually his driver’s, which leads to a conflict as to whether King will pay the ransom or not.

Neither film, it turns out, is a particularly faithful adaptation of the book for a simple reason – in the book (so far as I can tell – I’ve not actually read it) King decides not to pay the ransom. The plot is entirely taken up in a will he/won’t he. As we’ll see, both movies use the ransom stuff as more of a jumping off point, although they go to entirely different places.

Both movies, though, at least use the same setup as the book. High and Low, which came out in 1963, stars Kurosawa regular Toshiro Mifune in the King role (since the names are basically the same in both movies I’ll refer mostly to actors’ names instead) as an executive leveraged to the hilt in an attempt to take over the shoe company he runs.

In Highest 2 Lowest, by contrast, Denzel Washington plays the aging head of a music label of which he’s trying to regain control.

He’s not in quite as much financial peril as Mifune, but the nature of his business raises bigger concerns (about, for instance, a historical driver of black culture being stripped for parts after a takeover). It’s a subtle difference, but an important one.

The relationship between mogul and driver is quite different, as well. Mifune’s relationship with his driver is purely business and plays out through rigid class distinctions. Their kids play together, but there’s never any forgetting who is the boss and who works for whom. Denzel, by contrast, has a much deeper relationship with his driver (played by Jeffery Wright), one that suggests common roots, if different life paths. The pairing of Denzel and Wright is great and Highest 2 Lowest is often best when it focuses on them, but the deepening of that relationship drains some of the suspense out of whether the ransom will eventually be paid.

Although there’s not really any doubt on that. Beyond the fact that there’s no back half of these movies without the ransom being paid, the fact is there really isn’t much of a moral argument against paying it. Practical, yes, but not moral. To have either Mifune or Denzel hold out would have ruined their characters (or made for very different movies). That said, how the decision gets made is also subtly different. Mifune never decides to “do the right thing” (so to speak) and pay the ransom, but agrees to a police scheme to pay it as part of an operation in which, he’s promised, they’ll get the money back. It’s unclear exactly why Denzel has a change of heart, although getting the money back is also mentioned by the cops he works with, too. I suspect that vagueness is intentional, but it’s a little frustrating.

Where both movies shine, in different ways, is the sequence where the ransom money is actually turned over. Both take place on trains. The kidnapper lures Mifune onto a train where he thinks the handoff will take place, only to be instructed to toss the bag with the money out a window going over a particular bridge. It’s a taut, tense sequence where it looks like everything is spiraling out of control, but actually isn’t. Denzel is likewise lured onto a train, a subway train bound for Yankee Stadium (allowing Spike Lee to indulge in some amusing Red Sox hate). It’s more sprawling than taught, but equally vibrant in a completely different way, accented with chanting Yankees fans and a chase through a Puerto Rican Day parade. Musically this is where Highest 2 Lowest is at its best, both in the propulsive jazz piano score and the sweet Latin fusion of the late Eddie Palmieri and his band (performing for the parade).

It’s here where the movies diverge greatly, leading one to ask whether “adaptation” is the right description for what Highest 2 Lowest is. Which one works better for you will probably come down to what you look for in movies.

In High and Low, once the money is dropped Mifune is almost entirely absent from the rest of the film. The focus shifts to the police who, with the kidnapped kid safely rescued, work on tracking down the kidnapper and the money. There’s some time spent with the kidnapper himself, as well, but we’re mostly with groups of cops trying to track down leads. The driver helps with one, but aside from a couple of quick check ins Mifune is absent. What proceeds is almost like a time capsule from an era were cops were dedicated and incorruptible, going above and beyond. It’s almost like a fairy tale.

Highest 2 Lowest, by contrast, slips into action movie mode. The cops here range from ineffectual to flat out racist and are more wedded to procedure than anything else. When Denzel, who we’ve been told over and over again has the best ears in the business, delivers a pretty damned good clue as to the kidnapper’s identity thanks to them, the cops shrug it off. The dedicated police procedural of Kurosawa’s film instead becomes a kind of buddy movie, with Denzel and Wright teaming up to find the kidnapper and get the money back. This allows Denzel to come face to face with the kidnapper (a rapper played by A$AP Rocky) in a cracking scene in a recording studio that has the rhythm of a rap battle. It also personalizes the motives of the kidnapper, for better or worse.

Oddly, then, both kind of come back together at the end. In High and Low Mifune, who has lost just about everything (some of the money was recovered, but not quickly enough to save his home, much less the corporate takeover), has a final confrontation with the kidnapper in prison, during which the kidnapper explains his motives. Highest 2 Lowest has a similar scene, although Denzel comes into it in a much better position, and it feels a little redundant given the prior confrontation in the recording studio. The motives are also quite different, with Mifune’s tormentor choosing him as an avatar of wealth lording it above the rest of society, while Rocky is bent out of shape at not being recognized specifically by Denzel for his musical talents. Highest 2 Lowest then ladles on a coda showing Denzel’s relaunch in life and business, a stark contrast with High and Low’s decidedly downer ending.

With all that said, does one work better than the other? Like I said, I think that it depends on what you’re looking for. In spite of their common roots, the movies are quite different and it’s unfair to judge Highest 2 Lowest against High and Low in the way you might judge a movie version of a book. They are different things getting at different ideas. And, if anything, the thing they’re least interested in are what they take from King’s Ransom.

Highest 2 Lowest has, for my money, more highs and lows than the prior film. Some scenes – the money drop and chase, Denzel’s initial confrontation with the kidnapper – are electric. Some others are a little sluggish, particularly in the first half. In fact, the critical consensus seems to be that the first half is bad, the second half good. I think that’s overly simplistic – High and Low’s first half skates by on a lot of technical mastery (framing, shot composition, etc.), which kind of overlooks how non-compelling the actual moral dilemma is. Highest 2 Lowest doesn’t get the same break. Highest 2 Lowest also offers the Denzel/Wright pairing, which is unlike anything in the other film. That said, while it does lead to some great work on screen, it also slightly undermines what tension there otherwise could be over whether the ransom is ever going to get paid.

Where High and Low shines is in its broader themes. My understanding is that some critics initially read it as an indictment of capitalism and I definitely get that. This is where Mifune’s business venture being less compelling than Denzel’s pays off because it makes his choice even more stark – he’s going to risk some poor boy’s life for shoes? Additionally, because it ends with Mifune basically stripped of everything it implies that he’s paying a price for not doing the right thing for the right reasons. High and Low also really lives up to its title, shifting from one milieu to the other halfway. Its kidnapper could have targeted any rich guy as a blow against the system.

In the end, I don’t think Highest 2 Lowest is going to supplant High and Low, but I don’t think that was its intent, either. It is, to borrow the musical terminology of the movie, a riff on a common theme. High and Low is a classic for good reason and one of the highlights of Kurosawa’s career. Highest 2 Lowest is pretty good, but I don’t think anybody will think it’s knocking any earlier Lee movies out of his top five or so. It’s definitely worth a watch.

Fall Events (Come See Me!)

Since I haven’t had anything new come out this year I’ve been taking a pass on most events during the year, but there are a couple coming up that I’m part of and should be a lot of fun.

First, on September 16, Cicada Books & Coffee in Huntington, WV, are having their second (?) annual (??) “Spooky Storytelling” open-mike night.

Last year was really fun, with several folks reading or telling scary stories (I did this one), capped off by the folks from Eerie Travels, who will also be in attendance this year. What will I be reading this year? Good question! See if I wind up with a good answer. Come on by (check Cicada’s Facebook page for details) and join in the fun.

Second, on October 11, the fine folks at Henlo Press are hosting the Writer’s Block 2025 Indie Author & Artist Festival (also the second annual) in Hurricane, WV.

I’ll be there with books for sale, as will numerous other authors (check the Facebook page for upcoming announcements), and I’m sure the Henlo folks will sell you a copy of either volume of their Old Bones anthologies, which are jam packed with nifty short fiction (and a couple of my things). Things kick off at 11am.

See you then(s)!

Some Cheesy Thoughts

Consider The Leftovers, but funnier. And full of cheese.

That’s a good way to think of John Scalzi’s latest, When the Moon Hits Your Eye.

In The Leftovers (both the very good book and the excellent TV series based on it) a small portion of the world’s population simply vanishes. The story is about what comes next, the grappling with a strange new world and your place in it. Fixing it, or figuring out what happened, really doesn’t enter into it.

So, too, for Moon in which, suddenly one day, the Earth’s only satellite turns to cheese. Sorry, NASA, I meant into an “organic matrix.” Terminology aside, what follows is a lot like The Leftovers in that Scalzi is more interested in how people deal with their new reality rather than probing how it happened or how the problem might be solved. That will surely frustrate some, but I suppose I’m a sucker for “the world’s gone weird, how do we feel about that?” stories.

And “stories” is what Moon provides. In fact, it’s worth asking just what Moon actually is in the first place. It looks like a novel – work of fiction, of several tens-of-thousands of words, takes place in a fairly limited timeframe – but it reads like a collection of short stories. They’re not even particularly connected ones, either. There are characters from some stories that appear in others, often in the background after having been main characters themselves, but aside from a series that tells of a voyage to the cheese/moon that is told from several POVs, there isn’t really an overall “story” happening. I liked this setup, but folks who go into it wanting a novel might be put off (my wife, who doesn’t really care for short stories, said she’d been miffed in that situation).

Some of those stories are really good, too. There’s a chapter that’s a meeting of bankers trying to squeeze the last penny out of what appears to be the end of the world (how long before people stop working, etc.?) that sharp satire. There’s another involving a dying musician that’s touching as it deals with loose ends and regrets. There’s another matched pair that involves young lovers caught in a duel between cheese shops owned by estranged brothers. Not all land this well, but that’s the nature of the beast for what is, essentially, a short story collection. They’ll always sort themselves out (I’ll regret having said that one day).

That said, do any of those stories really require the who “moon turns to cheese” setup? Not really, although the one with the bankers comes close, since it requires some kind of apocalypse. The others would work just as well without it, though, which makes me wonder if Scalzi had some ideas lying around that he shoehorned into Moon. Not really a complaint – sometimes the best track on a concept album is the one that’s mostly a killer instrumental that doesn’t move any plot along – but it’s an interesting thought.

Moon also asks a question of just what genre it is. Scalzi is most well-known for writing science fiction, but can one really say that a story where the moon, for no explicable reason, turns to cheese is anything other than fantasy? To a certain extent Scalzi feels like he’s trying the alternate history approach – the critical event is pure fantasy, but the aftereffects are as realistic as possible. As an example, when the moon changes to cheese it retains the same mass, which means it gets bigger since cheese is less dense than rock (the good stuff, at least!). That makes the moon brighter in the sky. All that said, in an afterword Scalzi concedes that he wasn’t really that interest in scientific rigor, so there’s no harm is saying that Moon is pure absurdist fantasy.

There’s one way in which Moon falls short of The Leftovers, which is the ending. Without getting too spoilery the book manages to return, sitcom style, to the status quo in the same mysterious way as it began. It didn’t work for me, but given that this wasn’t a book that was all leading up to that ending, that didn’t bother me much.

If you’re willing to indulge some dispersed storytelling and don’t have a deep desire for answers, When the Moon Hits Your Eye is a lot of fun and my favorite of Scalzi’s since Redshirts.

So come and sail the seas of cheese!