So I drew comparison between The Talisman and Alice in Wonderland in an earlier post, and that's apt in a few ways. Two heroes, themselves very rational, who are thrust into irrational worlds.
Each of those stories has three arcs that are defined by the companions they have throughout, regardless of whether they are constant companions (for Jack) or not (for Alice). Each story has the companion who leads the hero into irrationality (the White Rabbit and Speedy Parker), each story has the denizen of the irrational land who could not possibly be in a rational world (the Cheshire Cat and Wolf), and the rational companion who is so grounded in rationality that they cannot share in the irrationality that the hero has to go through (Alice's sister and Richard Sloat).
I like the bits where characters are traveling together. It doesn't do one a lot of good in adventure stories to just have a person traveling by themselves, because travel isn't inherently interesting. Everywhere Alice and Jack go there's a bad obstacle that needs to be surmounted, and a little voice whispering in their ear suggesting what the solution might be. Alice's sister got very little screentime compared to one Richard Sloat, but maybe that's for the best - the irrationality of the Territories, after all, very nearly kills poor Richard.
One of the common elements in a lot of King's works is that places are more powerful than people, usually. People can conquer places, but by entering one you become a part of it, and you must fight the system you have entered. A haunted house is much scarier than any particular thing that lives in it, if you leverage it that way. It's like places soak up the secreted evils of decades and centuries and become reflections of the people in them.
I haven't got a lot to say right now.
I'm going to start reading The Neverending Story tomorrow. I suspect that one won't take as long.
Saturday 29 December 2012
Wednesday 5 December 2012
Here and Now
Man, I love Wolf.
One of the big appeals of stories like The Talisman or Alice in Wonderland, where you have a character from a rational world thrust into a magical world, is that your protagonist is so grounded in rationality that he brings that sense of rationality with him into an irrational situation. Sure he may be ignorant about certain things, but he's still wry in comparison to the people he's interacting with. Maybe not as clever, but he brings his own grounded perspective and holds onto that in the face of insanity.
Wolf is the opposite of that. He's all Territories: huge, and full of huge feelings, and slow, and incredibly strong. When I first read this book all those years ago, Wolf was my favorite character, partially because he was so big and dumb and strong and loyal, partially because he was a werewolf and what ten-year-old doesn't think werewolves are awesome? But you take this guy, who's used to a world that's been technologically stagnant since the dawn of time, from a place that's pure and magical like the daydreams of a child, and you put him into our world, and you're given a very different dynamic. The air makes him sick, the people frighten him, and half the things he sees are so alien and terrifying he's constantly on the edge of lying down and just hoping it all goes away when he opens his eyes.
Jack's cruel to Wolf, too, but in small ways, understandable ways because he's only a boy. Wolf doesn't have an ounce of cruelty in him, and if I remember he never even properly responds or hardens in the face of mistreatment. He's just a good companion.
This story actually is part of what convinced me that on some level it can be beneficial for the wandering hero to have a traveling companion, or at least a recurring character to bounce their thoughts off of. It helps make them grounded and believable, and provides a sense of continuity for their growth. Alice worked at least partially because she always had someone to talk to, some wave of madness which could be dashed against her Victorian reason, and Jack works in much the same way in relation to - well, to a lot of characters, but most especially to Wolf.
A hero can function pretty well on his own, but it's always going to be the parts where he can talk to someone that people will remember forever.
One of the big appeals of stories like The Talisman or Alice in Wonderland, where you have a character from a rational world thrust into a magical world, is that your protagonist is so grounded in rationality that he brings that sense of rationality with him into an irrational situation. Sure he may be ignorant about certain things, but he's still wry in comparison to the people he's interacting with. Maybe not as clever, but he brings his own grounded perspective and holds onto that in the face of insanity.
Wolf is the opposite of that. He's all Territories: huge, and full of huge feelings, and slow, and incredibly strong. When I first read this book all those years ago, Wolf was my favorite character, partially because he was so big and dumb and strong and loyal, partially because he was a werewolf and what ten-year-old doesn't think werewolves are awesome? But you take this guy, who's used to a world that's been technologically stagnant since the dawn of time, from a place that's pure and magical like the daydreams of a child, and you put him into our world, and you're given a very different dynamic. The air makes him sick, the people frighten him, and half the things he sees are so alien and terrifying he's constantly on the edge of lying down and just hoping it all goes away when he opens his eyes.
Jack's cruel to Wolf, too, but in small ways, understandable ways because he's only a boy. Wolf doesn't have an ounce of cruelty in him, and if I remember he never even properly responds or hardens in the face of mistreatment. He's just a good companion.
This story actually is part of what convinced me that on some level it can be beneficial for the wandering hero to have a traveling companion, or at least a recurring character to bounce their thoughts off of. It helps make them grounded and believable, and provides a sense of continuity for their growth. Alice worked at least partially because she always had someone to talk to, some wave of madness which could be dashed against her Victorian reason, and Jack works in much the same way in relation to - well, to a lot of characters, but most especially to Wolf.
A hero can function pretty well on his own, but it's always going to be the parts where he can talk to someone that people will remember forever.
Monday 26 November 2012
“If one good deed in all my life I did, / I do repent it from my very Soule.”
"I follow him to serve my turn upon him."
I'm going to take a moment here to speak a few words on the 'Bad Man' topic. I've restrained myself from pushing forward with the Talisman in order to let Cam catch up - no point in overshooting him, we're both moving forward with The Neverending Story at the same time. Also, Cam, for your SA - I recently found Watership Down in my closet.
On the subject of the "Bad Man" I will agree that King is despicably crafty and accomplished at laying out his villains. Kathy Bates, Steve Klemp, Jack Torrance, et cetera. This is true throughout the body of his work, culminating in Randall Flagg (the 'Dark Man' exemplified). Incidentally, my favourite chapter of my favourite book concerning one of my favourite figures in literature is the chapter detailing Randall Flagg on the road in The Stand. Morgan Sloat is another great example, although not so complex as Flagg or others (more simplified in the Disney sense, nasty through and through and barely sympathetic). When he is introduced, he is quickly made reprehensible and a glimpse of his past revealed to allow us to draw our own conclusions. There is a fallacy in speculative fiction that great villains can only be great if they are also sympathetic and their actions explained if not empathized. When Darth Vader (and I know I reference Star Wars often, but why shouldn't I, if we're talking about story-telling?) first entered the screen - all we needed to know about his past was that he was a Fallen Jedi. We write his story in our head - what needs to be written - and move on.
I'm older now and may be no longer the "target audience" of The Talisman, although I still find it endearing and magical. When I was younger, the character of Osmond was despicable then and despicable now although he is a thinner character these days. I am more analytical, require more explanation, and as an adult it is harder for me to take certain things at face value. When a character is as amoral as Osmond, he can be done in either one of two ways. He be done in the style of Mickey Peterson in Bronson, leave the hole where his empathy and sympathy and humanity should be act as the focus of the story (incidentally also like Patrick from King's It); or the story can focus on the construction of such a character (or the flaws in that construction). Either way, more time needs to be spend on that character. Osmond is diabolic and shit-house crazy, but really not enough time is spent inside the external performance.
Sloat is a superior example, despite being a different character.
You don't always need that internal dialogue to have a great villain. For fuck sake, Morgoth from Tolkien's mythos is never even characterized and look at the acidic impact his presence has on the series. Great villains alter the environments around them. They direct, impact, or facilitate the opposing forces which drive the plot of a story. You don't always need to be inside their heads to make the story better, but sometimes it's nice to know why they are acting on that side of the field.
The problem with the second sort of villain is that it's very hard to write about them. Outside the impact they have on the series, they are uninteresting. Why do you think there isn't a single chapter about Sauron? Why is Saruman more interesting? Nobody cares about Palpatine. Morgoth is only interesting in that his exploits are referenced, in the legendary context in which they thrive.
It is occasionally difficult to pick one of the two. I can't wait for the next "Sloat In This World" chapter.
Thursday 22 November 2012
The Bad Man
You know, I love the idea of bad guys. It's one of the reasons I like King as much as I do: King is very good at writing crazy people, or just bad people. If someone told me Mr. Straub writes the evil in men and women as well as King does I would pick up some of his books right away.
I guess I should regardless, since I like the Talisman so much.
Anyway still only about 200 pages in. I think the personality that strikes me the most is one Uncle Morgan, a.k.a. Morgan Sloat, who is a Bad Man. He stands in contrast to other bad men because he's an incredibly evil character in a lot of ways, and he's also very believable, but at no point does the book try to portray him as being sympathetic in any way. He's not just rotten, he's also petty, but he's a petty man who can do enormous harm. He would bring down a country for the sake of controlling more money, would murder people with his own hands if it meant he had more influence. There's something fearful in that, something visceral and raw, and in spite of the fact that he's the least physically intimidating man on the planet his presence still communicates a very real danger. The idea is that there's a divide, a big line that separates the people who will not harm people overmuch - like our good friend Jack - and then people on the other side of the line are very bad indeed, and can't be fought on their own terms by the good guys.
I don't think the story would be able to convey this dichotomy of evil action vs. good restraint nearly as well if it weren't for the fact that Jack Sawyer is, in many senses, completely defenseless. He's too good at heart to really hurt anybody if he can just get away from them, and he can't defend himself if the other guy doesn't quite think the same way. Constant tension.
Man, about the 200 page mark? That bit that takes place in Oatley? People talk about fear as a product of cities, but nothing seems quite as soul-gobbling as a small town that has set out to do you harm.
I guess I should regardless, since I like the Talisman so much.
Anyway still only about 200 pages in. I think the personality that strikes me the most is one Uncle Morgan, a.k.a. Morgan Sloat, who is a Bad Man. He stands in contrast to other bad men because he's an incredibly evil character in a lot of ways, and he's also very believable, but at no point does the book try to portray him as being sympathetic in any way. He's not just rotten, he's also petty, but he's a petty man who can do enormous harm. He would bring down a country for the sake of controlling more money, would murder people with his own hands if it meant he had more influence. There's something fearful in that, something visceral and raw, and in spite of the fact that he's the least physically intimidating man on the planet his presence still communicates a very real danger. The idea is that there's a divide, a big line that separates the people who will not harm people overmuch - like our good friend Jack - and then people on the other side of the line are very bad indeed, and can't be fought on their own terms by the good guys.
I don't think the story would be able to convey this dichotomy of evil action vs. good restraint nearly as well if it weren't for the fact that Jack Sawyer is, in many senses, completely defenseless. He's too good at heart to really hurt anybody if he can just get away from them, and he can't defend himself if the other guy doesn't quite think the same way. Constant tension.
Man, about the 200 page mark? That bit that takes place in Oatley? People talk about fear as a product of cities, but nothing seems quite as soul-gobbling as a small town that has set out to do you harm.
Wednesday 14 November 2012
Jack Lights Out
I first read this book when I was about thirteen or fourteen, I think, so it was an easy ten years ago at least, and coming back to it now I'm surprised by how much more clearly I can visualize almost everything.
I find myself wondering, often and consistently, if I was smarter when I was younger. I remember my thoughts being faster, or I think I do, like some quicksilver quality of my mind has started to slip away as I age, like I'm in a decline by the time I hit 25. That's not an entirely reasonable fear, but I am aware that the way my mind works is changing an it kind of frightens me because that means I'm necessarily losing parts of myself, like everyone does.
In that I share something with Jack, and I'm always surprised when book characters make me realize that about myself. Jack is a kid whose entire sense of self, in the beginning of the story, is framed by the losses he has either experienced or might experience. That's powerful stuff, especially when it makes you feel the loss too.
One of my favorite bits in stories is the stranger who comes to town, or the Bad Man. Now it can be a bad woman, too, but in lots of modern stories - especially King stories - it's the Bad Man, the man in black who scares you in ways that are different from a witch or wizard (I can't think of many Bad Women in the same vein as Flagg, if any, but I think that kind of character should be fairly easy to pull off). And Morgan Sloat, on the phone, comes across like a Bad Man, but he's overshadowed by a more effective device, which is the Bad World, where the entire world appears to be focused on making things bad for the hero, and coming apart at the seams for the sake of spiting him. The little dip in the sand, that swirls and blinks and laughs? That's as bad as it gets.
I like that stuff.
I just got to a bit where Jack drank the juice. Hopefully will be reading a bit more from here on in.
I find myself wondering, often and consistently, if I was smarter when I was younger. I remember my thoughts being faster, or I think I do, like some quicksilver quality of my mind has started to slip away as I age, like I'm in a decline by the time I hit 25. That's not an entirely reasonable fear, but I am aware that the way my mind works is changing an it kind of frightens me because that means I'm necessarily losing parts of myself, like everyone does.
In that I share something with Jack, and I'm always surprised when book characters make me realize that about myself. Jack is a kid whose entire sense of self, in the beginning of the story, is framed by the losses he has either experienced or might experience. That's powerful stuff, especially when it makes you feel the loss too.
One of my favorite bits in stories is the stranger who comes to town, or the Bad Man. Now it can be a bad woman, too, but in lots of modern stories - especially King stories - it's the Bad Man, the man in black who scares you in ways that are different from a witch or wizard (I can't think of many Bad Women in the same vein as Flagg, if any, but I think that kind of character should be fairly easy to pull off). And Morgan Sloat, on the phone, comes across like a Bad Man, but he's overshadowed by a more effective device, which is the Bad World, where the entire world appears to be focused on making things bad for the hero, and coming apart at the seams for the sake of spiting him. The little dip in the sand, that swirls and blinks and laughs? That's as bad as it gets.
I like that stuff.
I just got to a bit where Jack drank the juice. Hopefully will be reading a bit more from here on in.
Monday 12 November 2012
Saturday 10 November 2012
Cam, let's take off the string-mittens, hm?
This isn't supposed to be a race, mind you, but maybe I'm a pretty fast reader. I have been known to gorge, and not savor, which may be why I'm so inclined to re-read a work - I tend to lap up the crumbs I left out the first time.
200 pages in, and walking down the Road of Trials. I made a brief mention of Mrs. Brisby as an excellent example of a heroine in my other blog and Jack Sawyer fits the bill here as well. Unlike a steaming hot plate of most protagonists, Jack is as vulnerable as we would expect a twelve-year old kid to be marching down the road on his own. So far we've seen a little bit more of the Territories - and I remember how good an impression Captain Farren made on me when I read it the first time. Very well written as a soldier, love the business-like sword with the leather-grip "sweated dark". We also meet Osmond, the closest literate depiction of Kefka Palazzo I think I can think of off hand.
There's the horrific Oatley Tap ordeal, where Jack becomes trapped in a nightmare of a town that reminds me of the bad parts of Hamilton and a few of the run-down pits I've uncovered in Southern Alberta and the "dark places" of Ontario. The kind of place where the men drink their beer and then eat the glass, hunt out the winter and let the meat go to rot - smoke a lot, wear work-boots and squeeze their lives between the sharp edges of their teeth. Drink your pay, work out the booze on the rigs, that sort of cycle. I think Oatley works because it's a bad kind of real - the kind of real that King wrote into Jack Torrance when wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
I just watched the movie "Wake in Fright", an Australian cultural icon so far overlooked. A young school-teacher gets lost on the way to Sydney from some Pit - in some other Pit. A slippery slope of booze, more booze than most people can imagine (not me, sadly, ha), gambling, taking in the local colour, violence, booze, implied rape, murder... it's disturbing and the fact that I've been exposed to both this backwoods Australia and the Oatley Tap at almost the same time is almost ironic.
Anyways, the book takes a good break from all the hum-glum and shows off the beautiful parts of the Territories, reminding us - from a child's perspective - how beautiful a sky without airplanes might be, where men jump off towers wearing (growing?) wings in a kind of ballet, the joy of that pain, and currency made out of sticks. When I first read Patrick Rothfuss' unique nomenclature for his world's currency (talents and jots) I immediately brought to mind the Territories sticks. It quickly grounds us in reality once more, but it's a nice departure while it lasts. Morgan is coming, there are living trees here, and the adventure is really only beginning. Cam, you better be reading this book!
200 pages in, and walking down the Road of Trials. I made a brief mention of Mrs. Brisby as an excellent example of a heroine in my other blog and Jack Sawyer fits the bill here as well. Unlike a steaming hot plate of most protagonists, Jack is as vulnerable as we would expect a twelve-year old kid to be marching down the road on his own. So far we've seen a little bit more of the Territories - and I remember how good an impression Captain Farren made on me when I read it the first time. Very well written as a soldier, love the business-like sword with the leather-grip "sweated dark". We also meet Osmond, the closest literate depiction of Kefka Palazzo I think I can think of off hand.
There's the horrific Oatley Tap ordeal, where Jack becomes trapped in a nightmare of a town that reminds me of the bad parts of Hamilton and a few of the run-down pits I've uncovered in Southern Alberta and the "dark places" of Ontario. The kind of place where the men drink their beer and then eat the glass, hunt out the winter and let the meat go to rot - smoke a lot, wear work-boots and squeeze their lives between the sharp edges of their teeth. Drink your pay, work out the booze on the rigs, that sort of cycle. I think Oatley works because it's a bad kind of real - the kind of real that King wrote into Jack Torrance when wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
I just watched the movie "Wake in Fright", an Australian cultural icon so far overlooked. A young school-teacher gets lost on the way to Sydney from some Pit - in some other Pit. A slippery slope of booze, more booze than most people can imagine (not me, sadly, ha), gambling, taking in the local colour, violence, booze, implied rape, murder... it's disturbing and the fact that I've been exposed to both this backwoods Australia and the Oatley Tap at almost the same time is almost ironic.
Anyways, the book takes a good break from all the hum-glum and shows off the beautiful parts of the Territories, reminding us - from a child's perspective - how beautiful a sky without airplanes might be, where men jump off towers wearing (growing?) wings in a kind of ballet, the joy of that pain, and currency made out of sticks. When I first read Patrick Rothfuss' unique nomenclature for his world's currency (talents and jots) I immediately brought to mind the Territories sticks. It quickly grounds us in reality once more, but it's a nice departure while it lasts. Morgan is coming, there are living trees here, and the adventure is really only beginning. Cam, you better be reading this book!
For cam
"I learn about how stories work for the same reason that soldiers learn how to strip a rifle. You should, too." - the Unwritten (comic)
Friday 9 November 2012
"...a heart between beats."
Really didn't take very long to sink back into this one. 78 pages and five chapters in and I imagine every five or so chapters is a nice little chunk with which to write an update. Also, it probably makes Cam look bad, to be so prolific while he is being a schlub.
I realize, sort of in hindsight, that I've never read anything else by Peter Straub, and thus am having a certain amount of difficulty differentiating between his and King's prose. Still, say one thing about the Talisman, say there is some fine pieces of writing in there; the Arcadia Funworld a "heart between beats", and a woman with "piled-up hair", that sort of thing.
Anyways, so enter Jack Sawyer, a twelve-year old surrounded by death. And if death through the eyes of a twelve-year old isn't heavy enough, there are other worlds out there, and talking seagulls, and shapeshifting Strangers, and cancer. Looking back, I don't think I really dug the expository "Jack Lights Out" part, before he flips into the Territories for damn good. Nowadays it's a little different - something about dating a single-mom makes peaks my interest at the strained relationship between Jack and Lily Cavanaugh, Queen of the B-movies.
That flashback to almost being dragged into the van by those two monster-men its chilling. I think your child-brain has an uncanny ability to suppress dark memories. I remember a friend who stood up, suddenly remembering how some stranger had approached her backyard while they were playing with the sprinklers, and drawn a gun on her. Her older sister flat out asked the man not to shoot either of them and he eventually ran off. How fucked is that? It makes you wonder what memories have drifted down to the darker fathoms of your mind, half-buried in silt. Rape? I've heard a few similar stories involving that, neither of them pleasant. One of Cam's jump-starts for a story was a girl in fucking, I dunno, Toronto or some shit, meeting a troll under a bridge. Think about that for a second.
I digress, of course. So let's cut to the meat of it - we've established a plot and now Jack is in the Territories, and I just spent all morning listening to the Ocarina of Time soundtrack and remember how that game transported me to my own Territories, and isn't it fine? What better way to start off a book than by having a kid eating the most delicious-tasting blackberries he's ever seen in another world. Reminds me of plucking grapes in Kandahar. Of course, there is the menace that is omnipresent - and something about the birds talking in lies is alluring.
Let's press on.
I realize, sort of in hindsight, that I've never read anything else by Peter Straub, and thus am having a certain amount of difficulty differentiating between his and King's prose. Still, say one thing about the Talisman, say there is some fine pieces of writing in there; the Arcadia Funworld a "heart between beats", and a woman with "piled-up hair", that sort of thing.
Anyways, so enter Jack Sawyer, a twelve-year old surrounded by death. And if death through the eyes of a twelve-year old isn't heavy enough, there are other worlds out there, and talking seagulls, and shapeshifting Strangers, and cancer. Looking back, I don't think I really dug the expository "Jack Lights Out" part, before he flips into the Territories for damn good. Nowadays it's a little different - something about dating a single-mom makes peaks my interest at the strained relationship between Jack and Lily Cavanaugh, Queen of the B-movies.
That flashback to almost being dragged into the van by those two monster-men its chilling. I think your child-brain has an uncanny ability to suppress dark memories. I remember a friend who stood up, suddenly remembering how some stranger had approached her backyard while they were playing with the sprinklers, and drawn a gun on her. Her older sister flat out asked the man not to shoot either of them and he eventually ran off. How fucked is that? It makes you wonder what memories have drifted down to the darker fathoms of your mind, half-buried in silt. Rape? I've heard a few similar stories involving that, neither of them pleasant. One of Cam's jump-starts for a story was a girl in fucking, I dunno, Toronto or some shit, meeting a troll under a bridge. Think about that for a second.
I digress, of course. So let's cut to the meat of it - we've established a plot and now Jack is in the Territories, and I just spent all morning listening to the Ocarina of Time soundtrack and remember how that game transported me to my own Territories, and isn't it fine? What better way to start off a book than by having a kid eating the most delicious-tasting blackberries he's ever seen in another world. Reminds me of plucking grapes in Kandahar. Of course, there is the menace that is omnipresent - and something about the birds talking in lies is alluring.
Let's press on.
Thursday 8 November 2012
I wake and feel the fell of dark...
...not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent this night!" - Gerard Manley Hopkins
The above is an indication that not always is being an English Major unbearable. Me and Cam have been bitching, griping, arguing, conversing, and jaw-slapping about books for the nine or so years we've known each other. Mostly over AIM, or the various message boards we trolled in our teens. So why not write about books in a blog? We thought of this, spur of the moment, and I think history has proven those ideas can turn out pretty good.
We plan to hammer through book after book, and jot down our thoughts, and in doing so create a kind of smorgasbord of creative cross-referencing between what we can draw out of these books and our own (fledgling though they may be). So far King and Straub's The Talisman, Michael Ende's The Neverending Story and then I believe Gene Wolfe's New Sun something-or-other.
To begin - it has been roughly a decade since I read The Talisman, same as Cam. But damned if that book didn't blast my young imagination into shreds. I was carried so far away I don't think I slept for the week or so it took me to burn through it. My secondary interest is to look back on King's old writing and see for myself if there something lacking in his contemporary stuff or if I'm just grown up, because Jacky Lighting Out meant a whole shit-ton more to me than anything in Cell did, or the new Tower crap.
Jack was my fucking hero was I was eleven, man.
Without further ado, Well me and Tom got to the edge of the hilltop, we looked down into the village and we could see three or four lights twinkling...
Talking Turkey
This is where my friend Andrew and I will be writing about things we read, because we love to hear ourselves talk. We'll probably talk about other things too, mainly him, but it will mostly be about the things we read.
We're starting off with King and Straub's The Talisman, which we've both read before but haven't picked up in about a decade. We're on kind of a kick about rational worlds vs. irrational worlds, and we got to talking about Midworld, and we decided Hell, why not the Territories?
If none of that made any sense to you, it's fine, we'll talk about it some as we read the book. After that we'll read and talk about something else, on and on.
Cheers
We're starting off with King and Straub's The Talisman, which we've both read before but haven't picked up in about a decade. We're on kind of a kick about rational worlds vs. irrational worlds, and we got to talking about Midworld, and we decided Hell, why not the Territories?
If none of that made any sense to you, it's fine, we'll talk about it some as we read the book. After that we'll read and talk about something else, on and on.
Cheers
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