Friday, 18 October 2013
Story: The Glove, V [Obsoleted]
(Part I , IV , VI)
"The early history of our colony here on Ganymede was a strange one. We were possessed of a fierce Scotch cultural identity but separated by the differing calls on our natures. By turns artistic and ruthlessly curious our scientists got on badly with the artists and vice-versa. The intoxicating new plant forms here did not make the situation any easier. Deciding that it would be better to diversify our power base and maximise our chances of surviving a catastrophic event we founded two major settlements in a coincidentally helpful way."
Steffan listened as Octavius continued to work through the traditional speech to new members of the Order of Pipers. Tradition would be endured as it itself endured the rigours of time.
"Here in Burgh we concentrated our efforts in fostering the creative and artistic aspects of culture, while in Edin they focussed on all things technical and scientific. Thanks to the wonders of later generations and our communications technology we could never become totally disentangled from one another and it was thought exchange of the talented and youthful could only lead to greater integration in the future. For three centuries this has been for the most part true."
"As a Master Piper our tasks were many fold but chief amongst them was to act as covert couriers between the governing bodies of our two fair cities, to be ambassadors at large, and to investigate the strange occurrences and frictions that arise from time to time under the pretence of seeking out lore and legend. As an initiate you knew little of these other duties, and even as a journeyman you would not have been told even a fraction of the secret duties of the Pipers. We are an important and humble part of society, the glue that holds all together."
This confirmation of the information he had gotten in the scroll was unnerving. It sounded as if he had secretly enrolled in spy school instead of musical college.
"Over the last thirty years the natural exchange of students has slowed to a trickle. In the last academic session we sent only twenty-two new youths to study in Edin and received but nine such in return. Unrest is building amongst the populace, our pipers out in the world, traversing the surface ways and lodging everywhere between here and Edin, pick up reports of strife and anger most unseemly. It as if a dark presence were encroaching and pushing between our two peoples. In the last twelve months alone we have seen the disappearance of fifteen pipers, all highly regarded and treated as honoured members of society. And they had all reported progress in determining the sources of this unrest."
"You, Master Steffan, in addition to being top of your class for three consecutive years, have proven to be reliable, trustworthy and of the highest intellectual and emotional ability. In line with outstanding musical ability you have been awarded the title and duties of Master of Pipers. Should you accept this honour, you will be immediately dispatched to Edin to act as a senior field agent and liaison to local authorities, responsible for finding and identifying the problems that plague us. You will be equal to all of us in rank if not position. Should you refuse the honour it may not be offered to you again until you have proven yourself a second time in the course of your normal duties and you will be forbidden to mention any of what you have heard amongst us today. You must decide now."
Steffan stood up, sighed ruefully and said what he had known he going to say since reading the scroll. "Master Octavius, I must refuse the honour."
Octavius goggled at him.
To be continued...
Wednesday, 16 October 2013
Delays and Circumstances
In recent times I've become very resistant to being autobiographical in the Quirky Muffin, preferring instead to write stories and reviews, but is that in line with the blog's original intent? Does the original intent even matter any more? Has the blog reached one of the earliest in will be a long string of existential crises?
We had an interruption to the Quirky Muffin earlier this week, and it was in large part down to my being a little sick, as well as starting a new job. Last week I was parachuted in as a temporary lecturer at Aberystwyth University for three months and of course it has been rather stressful getting started. In addition to my module I'm taking the opportunity to clean out my Statistics rust and learn R, and am remembering just how much Statistics there is to be forgotten! Masses and masses of the cursed subject, but it is very interesting. Viewed from a post-PhD perspective, Statistics is data management and analysis of the highest order. It's something to get back into and exploit in the future, although the murkiness of the future is best not contemplated at this time.
In addition to my sudden lecturer status or maybe because of it there was a small incident at the weekend and of course there had to be a visit to the accident and emergency department of the local hospital as a result. In the final analysis, but not that final thank you very much, there was not much wrong apart from over compression due to badly small trousers and a massive amount of gas wafting about the system seeking to cause an explosion. Baggy trousers from now on, and giant reductions in weight, if it can somehow be done without total physical and emotional collapse! There will be no eating disorders here, we don't do those. The nurse gave me a lovely turkey sandwich. Thank you, doctor and nurse! It almost made the six hours of waiting worthwhile. The seats at the hospital were terrible though, almost breaking my back and making walking almost unbearable for a couple of days. Shame on you, hospital!
Argh, it just feels wrong to talk explicitly about myself. There must be people out there who do this all the time, even lonelier than I, and sending a light out into the darkness to see if there's anyone there. There's a poignant part in the book 'Yes Man' by Danny Wallace (I must write about it), where he is wavering in his 'Yes Manifesto' and he searches the Internet for 'I wish I had said no' and then 'I wish I had said yes' and discovered the deep personal part of the Interwebs we all know and love. There are deeply personal and squeamishly emotional lives being laid bare out there, and it continues to happen, despite being terribly un-British. The Quirky Muffin will never be like that. This is a place of intellect, thought and total stupidity if only because those are my strengths as opposed to the emotional aspects of life.
My, 'Yes Man' is a good book. It will have to be covered eventually in concert with its predecessor and spiritual sibling 'Join Me' for a super-blog. They are funny, but also have a twinned melancholy that is emblematic of the ambiguity of all things real in the universe. None of his following books have ever touched those two primal texts, being somehow far more contrived than natural tales of real life events. It's quite similar to the developments in Tony Hawks books after he hitch-hiked around Ireland with a fridge, where contrivance overtook spontaneity in the tales being spun. Having said that I do love his 'One Hit Wonderland' and could well have just spoilt my own theory. Oh, boggle, we had better add some Tony Hawks to the book review lists too.
Coming up in the Quirky Muffin, now that the interruption is over? Some book reviews, stories, and less overt autobiographical content. What people learn about me remains in between the lines.
O.
We had an interruption to the Quirky Muffin earlier this week, and it was in large part down to my being a little sick, as well as starting a new job. Last week I was parachuted in as a temporary lecturer at Aberystwyth University for three months and of course it has been rather stressful getting started. In addition to my module I'm taking the opportunity to clean out my Statistics rust and learn R, and am remembering just how much Statistics there is to be forgotten! Masses and masses of the cursed subject, but it is very interesting. Viewed from a post-PhD perspective, Statistics is data management and analysis of the highest order. It's something to get back into and exploit in the future, although the murkiness of the future is best not contemplated at this time.
In addition to my sudden lecturer status or maybe because of it there was a small incident at the weekend and of course there had to be a visit to the accident and emergency department of the local hospital as a result. In the final analysis, but not that final thank you very much, there was not much wrong apart from over compression due to badly small trousers and a massive amount of gas wafting about the system seeking to cause an explosion. Baggy trousers from now on, and giant reductions in weight, if it can somehow be done without total physical and emotional collapse! There will be no eating disorders here, we don't do those. The nurse gave me a lovely turkey sandwich. Thank you, doctor and nurse! It almost made the six hours of waiting worthwhile. The seats at the hospital were terrible though, almost breaking my back and making walking almost unbearable for a couple of days. Shame on you, hospital!
Argh, it just feels wrong to talk explicitly about myself. There must be people out there who do this all the time, even lonelier than I, and sending a light out into the darkness to see if there's anyone there. There's a poignant part in the book 'Yes Man' by Danny Wallace (I must write about it), where he is wavering in his 'Yes Manifesto' and he searches the Internet for 'I wish I had said no' and then 'I wish I had said yes' and discovered the deep personal part of the Interwebs we all know and love. There are deeply personal and squeamishly emotional lives being laid bare out there, and it continues to happen, despite being terribly un-British. The Quirky Muffin will never be like that. This is a place of intellect, thought and total stupidity if only because those are my strengths as opposed to the emotional aspects of life.
My, 'Yes Man' is a good book. It will have to be covered eventually in concert with its predecessor and spiritual sibling 'Join Me' for a super-blog. They are funny, but also have a twinned melancholy that is emblematic of the ambiguity of all things real in the universe. None of his following books have ever touched those two primal texts, being somehow far more contrived than natural tales of real life events. It's quite similar to the developments in Tony Hawks books after he hitch-hiked around Ireland with a fridge, where contrivance overtook spontaneity in the tales being spun. Having said that I do love his 'One Hit Wonderland' and could well have just spoilt my own theory. Oh, boggle, we had better add some Tony Hawks to the book review lists too.
Coming up in the Quirky Muffin, now that the interruption is over? Some book reviews, stories, and less overt autobiographical content. What people learn about me remains in between the lines.
O.
Monday, 14 October 2013
Service Interruption
No proper Quirky Muffin this time as sickness has intervened. Not sleeping for a couple of nights and twenty four hours of not sleeping can really sap creativity. At least the doctor gave me a turkey sandwich before pushing me out the door.
Lesson to be learnt: Do not wear tight trousers.
O.
Lesson to be learnt: Do not wear tight trousers.
O.
Saturday, 12 October 2013
Book: 'Gaudy Night' by Dorothy L Sayers (1935)
This wasn't what I was expecting at all. Maybe I was deluded. I had read the first five novels in the Lord Peter Wimsey sequence and found some detective stories that were slowly deepening into full-fledged psychological studies and then skipped straight to the penultimate novel 'Gaudy Night' and discovered a full scale classic.
Lord Peter Wimsey was an aristocrat detective of the highest intelligence. He may have concealed himself a little as a seeming fop but he was a serious proposition in practically any circumstance, and his substance was emphasised increasingly as the series moves on and his detective work transitioned from a hobby to a hardfought profession. Having started off seemingly as a generic novelty sleuth with aristocratic tendencies and shellshock from World War I, he ends a deeply complex character. Having said all that, the first of 'Gaudy Night's many decoys is that it's not really a novel about Lord Peter Wimsey at all, but is actually the story of his reluctant love interest Harriet Vane. He saved her from a wrongful execution in 'Strong Poison' and professed his love, but it's only here that their whole shared story comes to a resolution, seven books later. It's Harriet's story first, probably as it must have been lest it all come apart in a shower of literary debris.
The second decoy is perhaps the title, which I initially thought referred to the adjective 'gaudy' but actually relates apparently to a type of university reunion apparently celebrated at the time in some Oxford colleges. Hence when discovering the book you wonder what could be so gaudy about it all. The eponymous Gaudy Night is the start point of the novel, the launching point for Harriet as the protagonist as she goes to her first reunion, and the first portion of what will be the nominal mystery for the narrative.
The third decoy is the presumption that this is a detective story, as it is really a romance of the first order masquerading as a mystery. That all begs the question of what this book is really about, and therein lies the question of all questions. This mammoth and epic story is a study of the implications of educated women, the conflict between said education and the traditional roles of women in society, the ongoing tension between Wimsey and Vane, the subtext of Sayers' real life, and perhaps is a deliberate step toward the resolution of the entire series of Wimsey novels as only one more novel would be written.
To talk about the story briefly, a seeming prank at Gaudy Night escalates over a number of months into a potentially lethal tirade of incidents, which leads the Lady Dons of the College to summon Old Student Harriet to surreptitiously determine who is behind it all, and to stop them before someone dies in the process. The mystery is really only a tool of the plot to raise social issues and far more importantly to illuminate the desperate struggle in Harriet's heart as she comes to realise that the man whose proposals she has been refusing for five years may have been the man for her all along. It is hard to know how to feel about someone who saved you from the hangman's noose, after all. In addition, the introduction of Wimsey far past the mid-point of the narrative and in his old studying grounds of Oxford effectively reintroduces everyone to his brilliance via his academic reputation and how he relates to his nephew. We are reintroduced to Wimsey at the same time as Harriet is, and it is impressive. The psychology of the whole novel is impressive, and the coalescence of the disparate plots into a completely satisfying conclusion is dramatic for a mystery novel of the 1930s.
Somewhere there will be massive critical appreciations of 'Gaudy Night', which I could never hope to recreate, so my post will finish with an appreciation of this being a highly enjoyable and successful novel by a woman, about a college full of women and with a female protagonist. I hope I'm not a sexist but I would have been a little perturbed at the thought of what was to come with all that femininity considered, and then delighted because it all makes sense and is an example of the work standing on its own merits.
Go, woman power!
O.
Lord Peter Wimsey was an aristocrat detective of the highest intelligence. He may have concealed himself a little as a seeming fop but he was a serious proposition in practically any circumstance, and his substance was emphasised increasingly as the series moves on and his detective work transitioned from a hobby to a hardfought profession. Having started off seemingly as a generic novelty sleuth with aristocratic tendencies and shellshock from World War I, he ends a deeply complex character. Having said all that, the first of 'Gaudy Night's many decoys is that it's not really a novel about Lord Peter Wimsey at all, but is actually the story of his reluctant love interest Harriet Vane. He saved her from a wrongful execution in 'Strong Poison' and professed his love, but it's only here that their whole shared story comes to a resolution, seven books later. It's Harriet's story first, probably as it must have been lest it all come apart in a shower of literary debris.
The second decoy is perhaps the title, which I initially thought referred to the adjective 'gaudy' but actually relates apparently to a type of university reunion apparently celebrated at the time in some Oxford colleges. Hence when discovering the book you wonder what could be so gaudy about it all. The eponymous Gaudy Night is the start point of the novel, the launching point for Harriet as the protagonist as she goes to her first reunion, and the first portion of what will be the nominal mystery for the narrative.
The third decoy is the presumption that this is a detective story, as it is really a romance of the first order masquerading as a mystery. That all begs the question of what this book is really about, and therein lies the question of all questions. This mammoth and epic story is a study of the implications of educated women, the conflict between said education and the traditional roles of women in society, the ongoing tension between Wimsey and Vane, the subtext of Sayers' real life, and perhaps is a deliberate step toward the resolution of the entire series of Wimsey novels as only one more novel would be written.
To talk about the story briefly, a seeming prank at Gaudy Night escalates over a number of months into a potentially lethal tirade of incidents, which leads the Lady Dons of the College to summon Old Student Harriet to surreptitiously determine who is behind it all, and to stop them before someone dies in the process. The mystery is really only a tool of the plot to raise social issues and far more importantly to illuminate the desperate struggle in Harriet's heart as she comes to realise that the man whose proposals she has been refusing for five years may have been the man for her all along. It is hard to know how to feel about someone who saved you from the hangman's noose, after all. In addition, the introduction of Wimsey far past the mid-point of the narrative and in his old studying grounds of Oxford effectively reintroduces everyone to his brilliance via his academic reputation and how he relates to his nephew. We are reintroduced to Wimsey at the same time as Harriet is, and it is impressive. The psychology of the whole novel is impressive, and the coalescence of the disparate plots into a completely satisfying conclusion is dramatic for a mystery novel of the 1930s.
Somewhere there will be massive critical appreciations of 'Gaudy Night', which I could never hope to recreate, so my post will finish with an appreciation of this being a highly enjoyable and successful novel by a woman, about a college full of women and with a female protagonist. I hope I'm not a sexist but I would have been a little perturbed at the thought of what was to come with all that femininity considered, and then delighted because it all makes sense and is an example of the work standing on its own merits.
Go, woman power!
O.
Thursday, 10 October 2013
Geeky Weeks
This is turning into quite the geeky or nerdy week. Seven days ago I volunteered to be a library assistant in the village library. Six days ago I wrote about Sherlock Holmes. Four days ago I was approached to be parachuted in as an emergency university lecturer. Three days ago rumours about found missing Doctor Who episodes started swirling about in earnest. Two days ago I wrote about comic books. Yesterday I started working. Today, Doctor Who gossip continues to swirl until the press embargo is lifted at midnight and it somehow seems as if the storm is over.
Sometimes weeks are just irretrievably nerdy.
As all the Doctor Who speculation goes on and on and on (hooray if it does turn out to be 'Enemy of the World' and 'The Web of Fear', by the way) one had to wonder why Star Trek doesn't get anywhere near this attention anymore. There are no missing episodes of Star Trek of course, which makes it harder to be nostalgic about but it's also indicative of the facet of this show that allowed it to bloom so hugely but also then collapse: The franchise of Trek. For the great majority of its history Doctor Who is one show, constantly relaunching and metamorphosing, but one show at a time. Star Trek is six different television shows that mostly burst out in one brief period before collapsing inwards again having burnt all their narrative fuel. The original show, groundbreaking and exciting as it was, was the phenomenon and its movies and the spinoffs are the effects of its original success. Star Trek the original series will be remembered longer than its spinoffs but it only ran for three years and six revival movies. Even as the reboot Star Trek movies roll out once every three or four years it's hard to get excited, mainly because they're not really Star Trek to be honest. In contrast to all that, Doctor Who is about to have its fiftieth anniversary and has been in production for about thirty four of those years.
I love Star Trek and Sherlock Holmes, not Doctor Who so much but if third and fourth items were compulsory Doctor Who would definitely be one of them. I've rambled on about them before but those three sets of characters are multi-platform cross-media behemoths of incredible vitality, and my favourite Star Trek is the weakest in energy and vigour.
Lest that people become convinced that my life revolves slowly around television I must reveal that I have been reading a lot of Dorothy L Sayeys, who truly seems to be one of the unfairly lesser remembered gems of the Golden Age of Mystery Novels. What Sayers lacked in volume of output (Agatha Christie beats everyone there) she gains in painstaking effort, love of detail and probably re-readability. Once I've finished there shall be words on 'Gaudy Night' but what you get from her Peter Wimsey novels is a long-term, real-time narrative where time passes in between novels as it does for us, and the series as a whole thus seems somehow just a little more satisfying. Creativity is born from limitation. Yes, there shall be more on Lord Peter Wimsey of the ridiculous name.
That's a wrap. There's not much to say. Stories are coming though. Stories! And I guess more geeky talk. I need more novels.
O.
Sometimes weeks are just irretrievably nerdy.
As all the Doctor Who speculation goes on and on and on (hooray if it does turn out to be 'Enemy of the World' and 'The Web of Fear', by the way) one had to wonder why Star Trek doesn't get anywhere near this attention anymore. There are no missing episodes of Star Trek of course, which makes it harder to be nostalgic about but it's also indicative of the facet of this show that allowed it to bloom so hugely but also then collapse: The franchise of Trek. For the great majority of its history Doctor Who is one show, constantly relaunching and metamorphosing, but one show at a time. Star Trek is six different television shows that mostly burst out in one brief period before collapsing inwards again having burnt all their narrative fuel. The original show, groundbreaking and exciting as it was, was the phenomenon and its movies and the spinoffs are the effects of its original success. Star Trek the original series will be remembered longer than its spinoffs but it only ran for three years and six revival movies. Even as the reboot Star Trek movies roll out once every three or four years it's hard to get excited, mainly because they're not really Star Trek to be honest. In contrast to all that, Doctor Who is about to have its fiftieth anniversary and has been in production for about thirty four of those years.
I love Star Trek and Sherlock Holmes, not Doctor Who so much but if third and fourth items were compulsory Doctor Who would definitely be one of them. I've rambled on about them before but those three sets of characters are multi-platform cross-media behemoths of incredible vitality, and my favourite Star Trek is the weakest in energy and vigour.
Lest that people become convinced that my life revolves slowly around television I must reveal that I have been reading a lot of Dorothy L Sayeys, who truly seems to be one of the unfairly lesser remembered gems of the Golden Age of Mystery Novels. What Sayers lacked in volume of output (Agatha Christie beats everyone there) she gains in painstaking effort, love of detail and probably re-readability. Once I've finished there shall be words on 'Gaudy Night' but what you get from her Peter Wimsey novels is a long-term, real-time narrative where time passes in between novels as it does for us, and the series as a whole thus seems somehow just a little more satisfying. Creativity is born from limitation. Yes, there shall be more on Lord Peter Wimsey of the ridiculous name.
That's a wrap. There's not much to say. Stories are coming though. Stories! And I guess more geeky talk. I need more novels.
O.
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
The Other Kind Of Book
I was born a while ago, apparently longer ago than is first obvious if lovely Rochelle who was collecting for the National Deaf Children's Society today in Llanelli is to be believed, and when I first stumbled across comic books it was via the British over sized reprints of DC being published by London Editions Magazines. As a result of this and a few bundled US comics bought at Butlins in prehistoric times I was exposed to what I consider to be the fine era that I refer to as post-Crisis. John Byrne had rebooted Superman admirably, Giffen and DeMatteis had produced a fun take on the Justice League, and Batman was quite happily living with established continuity in what can only be thought of as a 'fuzzy reboot'. Things were happening everywhere but I was mainly exposed to the League, Batman and Superman and they were awesome. They were also fun, which is something that doesn't seem to be valued much anymore but there's no point in grumping on about it. Progress happens even if it's not agreeable to everyone. Over at Marvel that man John Byrne also produced a groundbreaking take on the now 'Sensational' She-Hulk and had in the recent past made the Fantastic Four relevant for the first time in ages. That man Byrne was incorrigible!
Even though clouds were gathering in the 1990s there was still fun and adventure to be found in Peter David's Supergirl and the Wally West incarnation of The Flash under practically every person who wrote for him. In the 2000s, it was tougher but Dan Slott did an awesome and innovative run on She-Hulk and Mark Waid pulled the Fantastic Four back into shape in admirable adventurous fashion. The Fantastic Four have always been a hard bunch to write for as not everyone seems to understand that they're not superheroes but adventurers instead. There's no obligation for fistfights and Battles Royale with the Four; They'll solve a problem scientifically or using their combined talents as a family group, and then have a dinner party or go the movies to unwind. Now, in the 2010s, I don't seem to have a comic book. Based on no experiences whatsoever I distrust DC to put out anything but fistfights and zombies, and Marvel has somehow always been the Other Company to be visited only for She-Hulk and the Four.
In the end, though, I normally return to my beginnings. The Byrne Superman is a lovely idea that I'll have to revisit in the near future, with a tangible element of fun always around the corner. Superman may have to do terrible things but it is still fun to be him, although he did have his moments of crisis and went loco after executing Zod and the Phantom Zoners (surely a great band name). It's never been clear to me why Superman has to be the strongest, fastest and most ridiculously overpowered superhero anyway. That doesn't make him super in any way except for being super-unrelateable. His potency is in the sheer variety of things he can do. The Flash is faster, Wonder Woman is a better diplomat, Batman is smarter, Green Lantern has better ranged weapons, the Martian Manhunter has telepathic/vision powers far more potent, and so we can go on but Superman can do everything: That is why he is 'super'. Maybe he should be the strongest or most invulnerable though. The Byrne Superman was more relateable and so was the Giffen/de Matteis League. Yes, their ranks were filled by characters you might not have heard of much but isn't that more believable in a full-time team anyway? If Superman's always in Metropolis then how is he always here too? And Batman and Wonder Woman too for that matter. It made more sense to have it the way it was, with jokes to counterpoint the drama and situations that the team had to bind together to defeat. It was a wonderful series, lessened somewhat when the team split into two main branches/series.
I would love to say that are excellent comic books out there right now, but I really wouldn't know. That initial post-Crisis Age was plum in the middle of the transition from mass sales to selling through specialist outlets, and that transition has led to increased pandering toward mature existing fans and movement away from recruiting new customers and the things I rather liked to begin with. Yes, now the storytelling is complex, developed and sometimes wittier than before but a lot of the fun has gone to be replaced by adult themes. The last entertaining thing I read was 'Hero Squared' again by Giffen and De Matteis, and even that ended on a tragedy after a long run of fun.
Is the comic book as we knew it dead? Maybe and maybe not, as it is the Age of the Internet. The future is in our hands now, and comic book companies should beware.
O.
Notes
For an interesting run of collected editions try to gather up the following series in their paperback (TPB) collections, or individual issues if necessary:
'Batman (Detective Comics)' by Greg Rucka (TPBs and back issues)
'Catwoman' by Ed Brubaker (TPBs and back issues)
'Fantastic Four' by Mark Waid (TPBs)
'Fantastic Four' by John Byrne (Visionary TPBs)
'The Flash' by Geoff Johns (TPBs)
'Hero Squared' by Giffen and DeMatteis (TPSs)
'Justice League' by Giffen and various (Justice League International TPBs)
'Sensational She-Hulk' by John Byrne (Back Issues)
'She-Hulk' by Dan Slott (She-Hulk TPBs)
'Supergirl' by Peter David (TPBs and back issues)
'Superman' by John Byrne (Man of Steel TPBs)
'Wonder Woman' by Greg Rucka (TPBs)
There's something there for everyone, over about twenty years of mainstream comic books, with a decent dose of fun to boot.
Even though clouds were gathering in the 1990s there was still fun and adventure to be found in Peter David's Supergirl and the Wally West incarnation of The Flash under practically every person who wrote for him. In the 2000s, it was tougher but Dan Slott did an awesome and innovative run on She-Hulk and Mark Waid pulled the Fantastic Four back into shape in admirable adventurous fashion. The Fantastic Four have always been a hard bunch to write for as not everyone seems to understand that they're not superheroes but adventurers instead. There's no obligation for fistfights and Battles Royale with the Four; They'll solve a problem scientifically or using their combined talents as a family group, and then have a dinner party or go the movies to unwind. Now, in the 2010s, I don't seem to have a comic book. Based on no experiences whatsoever I distrust DC to put out anything but fistfights and zombies, and Marvel has somehow always been the Other Company to be visited only for She-Hulk and the Four.
In the end, though, I normally return to my beginnings. The Byrne Superman is a lovely idea that I'll have to revisit in the near future, with a tangible element of fun always around the corner. Superman may have to do terrible things but it is still fun to be him, although he did have his moments of crisis and went loco after executing Zod and the Phantom Zoners (surely a great band name). It's never been clear to me why Superman has to be the strongest, fastest and most ridiculously overpowered superhero anyway. That doesn't make him super in any way except for being super-unrelateable. His potency is in the sheer variety of things he can do. The Flash is faster, Wonder Woman is a better diplomat, Batman is smarter, Green Lantern has better ranged weapons, the Martian Manhunter has telepathic/vision powers far more potent, and so we can go on but Superman can do everything: That is why he is 'super'. Maybe he should be the strongest or most invulnerable though. The Byrne Superman was more relateable and so was the Giffen/de Matteis League. Yes, their ranks were filled by characters you might not have heard of much but isn't that more believable in a full-time team anyway? If Superman's always in Metropolis then how is he always here too? And Batman and Wonder Woman too for that matter. It made more sense to have it the way it was, with jokes to counterpoint the drama and situations that the team had to bind together to defeat. It was a wonderful series, lessened somewhat when the team split into two main branches/series.
I would love to say that are excellent comic books out there right now, but I really wouldn't know. That initial post-Crisis Age was plum in the middle of the transition from mass sales to selling through specialist outlets, and that transition has led to increased pandering toward mature existing fans and movement away from recruiting new customers and the things I rather liked to begin with. Yes, now the storytelling is complex, developed and sometimes wittier than before but a lot of the fun has gone to be replaced by adult themes. The last entertaining thing I read was 'Hero Squared' again by Giffen and De Matteis, and even that ended on a tragedy after a long run of fun.
Is the comic book as we knew it dead? Maybe and maybe not, as it is the Age of the Internet. The future is in our hands now, and comic book companies should beware.
O.
Notes
For an interesting run of collected editions try to gather up the following series in their paperback (TPB) collections, or individual issues if necessary:
'Batman (Detective Comics)' by Greg Rucka (TPBs and back issues)
'Catwoman' by Ed Brubaker (TPBs and back issues)
'Fantastic Four' by Mark Waid (TPBs)
'Fantastic Four' by John Byrne (Visionary TPBs)
'The Flash' by Geoff Johns (TPBs)
'Hero Squared' by Giffen and DeMatteis (TPSs)
'Justice League' by Giffen and various (Justice League International TPBs)
'Sensational She-Hulk' by John Byrne (Back Issues)
'She-Hulk' by Dan Slott (She-Hulk TPBs)
'Supergirl' by Peter David (TPBs and back issues)
'Superman' by John Byrne (Man of Steel TPBs)
'Wonder Woman' by Greg Rucka (TPBs)
There's something there for everyone, over about twenty years of mainstream comic books, with a decent dose of fun to boot.
Sunday, 6 October 2013
Story: Oneiromancy, III
(Part O , II , IV)
The man, whose name was Stanley, awoke and stared blankly up at the ceiling for a little while in the darkened room. The curtains were bright with restrained light, and in an instant of strained reflection Stanley bolted out of bed and jumped for the bathroom.
Shaving and washing when you're two hours later for work is an activity which can only lead to trouble. After a couple of cuts and a bruise from hitting his knee on the shower door, Stanley barrelled out of the bathroom, dressed in a frenzy and almost slid out of the front door and into the outside world. Fortunately, Stanley had long stuck to the adage that commuting was evil and so lived almost next door to his place of work, the Deuteronomy Comprehensive School, and was in walking distance of the supermarket. It was his own little slice of heaven.
Walking hurriedly up the main entrance road into the school, Stanley waved off the offended looking headmaster Mr Deakins and scurried up to his class room and his first lesson of the day. He was five minutes late. Deakins was coming down the corridor so the somewhat confused teacher pulled himself together with a sheer force of will and entered the classroom.
One lesson later, and with much buffeted confidence, our unwitting protagonist entered the canteen and snagged a portable lunch before proceeding with all due deliberation and courage to the staff room where the inevitable grilling would occur. If he were lucky he'd be taken away by Dopey Deakins for an interrogation and if he wasn't lucky then his head of department Diane would get to him first. For a moment he considered what his excuse would be for being late and missing tutorials and the dream shuddered into his mind for a moment before he shuffled it off for later reflection. There could be no time for his crazy visions right now. Even if they were getting worse.
The staff room was quiet this early in the lunch period so Stanley dropped onto a couch and munched thoughtfully on his lunch as the sunshine gleamed temptingly through the window. Divertingly beautiful sunshine always seemed to be the worst part of Mondays, reminding him of what he could be doing outside, how that big pile of forms and marking wasn't so important, and that really teaching was an intolerable circumstance for this most wonderful of days.
Deakins came in and Stanley murmured a small sigh of relief. The headmaster was a decent sort, and Stanley had a decent record of being a good and reliable teacher. Then Diane came in too and he settled in for a long lunch.
Many hours later, Stanley walked out of the main street entrance to the school and stared vaguely about him before ducking into his house and meditating for a moment. Then, in the kitchen he opened the fridge and looked at the bareness before grumpily putting a pile of papers in a bag and setting off for the supermarket and maybe a restaurant too. It was the kind of day that would never get back to pattern, that would fight any attempts to make it more regular, so he would embrace it. Eventually ending up in the local library he set to work marking and was making progress when finally closing time came and he trundled home once again.
Only when he was about to go to sleep again did he realise that his waitress had had short blonde hair and been hauntingly familiar, and his dream of the preceding night did come back to mind, and then he fell asleep and began to Dream.
To continue...
The man, whose name was Stanley, awoke and stared blankly up at the ceiling for a little while in the darkened room. The curtains were bright with restrained light, and in an instant of strained reflection Stanley bolted out of bed and jumped for the bathroom.
Shaving and washing when you're two hours later for work is an activity which can only lead to trouble. After a couple of cuts and a bruise from hitting his knee on the shower door, Stanley barrelled out of the bathroom, dressed in a frenzy and almost slid out of the front door and into the outside world. Fortunately, Stanley had long stuck to the adage that commuting was evil and so lived almost next door to his place of work, the Deuteronomy Comprehensive School, and was in walking distance of the supermarket. It was his own little slice of heaven.
Walking hurriedly up the main entrance road into the school, Stanley waved off the offended looking headmaster Mr Deakins and scurried up to his class room and his first lesson of the day. He was five minutes late. Deakins was coming down the corridor so the somewhat confused teacher pulled himself together with a sheer force of will and entered the classroom.
One lesson later, and with much buffeted confidence, our unwitting protagonist entered the canteen and snagged a portable lunch before proceeding with all due deliberation and courage to the staff room where the inevitable grilling would occur. If he were lucky he'd be taken away by Dopey Deakins for an interrogation and if he wasn't lucky then his head of department Diane would get to him first. For a moment he considered what his excuse would be for being late and missing tutorials and the dream shuddered into his mind for a moment before he shuffled it off for later reflection. There could be no time for his crazy visions right now. Even if they were getting worse.
The staff room was quiet this early in the lunch period so Stanley dropped onto a couch and munched thoughtfully on his lunch as the sunshine gleamed temptingly through the window. Divertingly beautiful sunshine always seemed to be the worst part of Mondays, reminding him of what he could be doing outside, how that big pile of forms and marking wasn't so important, and that really teaching was an intolerable circumstance for this most wonderful of days.
Deakins came in and Stanley murmured a small sigh of relief. The headmaster was a decent sort, and Stanley had a decent record of being a good and reliable teacher. Then Diane came in too and he settled in for a long lunch.
Many hours later, Stanley walked out of the main street entrance to the school and stared vaguely about him before ducking into his house and meditating for a moment. Then, in the kitchen he opened the fridge and looked at the bareness before grumpily putting a pile of papers in a bag and setting off for the supermarket and maybe a restaurant too. It was the kind of day that would never get back to pattern, that would fight any attempts to make it more regular, so he would embrace it. Eventually ending up in the local library he set to work marking and was making progress when finally closing time came and he trundled home once again.
Only when he was about to go to sleep again did he realise that his waitress had had short blonde hair and been hauntingly familiar, and his dream of the preceding night did come back to mind, and then he fell asleep and began to Dream.
To continue...
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