The Encyclopedia Multiversalis

So... turns out I’m bad at this! Well, not the blogging part. But keeping up with it. I have a handful of other personal projects on the go, and they keep tugging me back, my Muse suddenly inspired after a long period of inactivity. I’ve read a lot since my last post, and while I may not be following my original list of intended reviews, hopefully I can get down everything I’ve read since then.

Like - I have no doubt - many people, my first exposure to a little indie film named The Room and a man named Tommy Wiseau was through the internet. Two internet film reviewers whose work I watched reviewed The Room one day. And like many others, I laughed at what I saw, and laughed at the jokes made, and told friends about the reviews I saw for a horrible movie.

I watched those reviews a lot over the weeks that came whenever I needed a good long laugh. I hadn’t really thought about Mr. Wiseau or his work in a while since, but in the bookstore over the last summer I stumbled across The Disaster Artist. Co-written by Greg Sestero (Mark in The Room), it tells the tale of Sestero’s attempts to get into show business and his meeting and friendship with Tommy Wiseau. Without even reading a page, I was hooked on the idea and bought the book immediately.

The book weaves two narratives at once: Sestero’s meeting Wiseau and how that friendship develops (and all the twists, turns, and retreats along the way) and the development of Wiseau’s pet project, The Room. I wasn’t, and I’m still not, sure which is more compelling. I freely admit there’s that side of me that reveled, just a little, in ‘watching’ The Room take a nosedive as the development wore on. However, the budding friendship between Sestero and Wiseau was also very compelling.

There was a side effect to reading the entwined stories that I had not considered previously. Through Sestero’s words, it was easier to see Tommy Wiseau - and everyone involved, really - as people. That might seem very strange, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that the people criticism and jokes are aimed are just as human as the rest of us. And while I didn’t aim any jokes myself, I did laugh at many, and in doing so “forgot” these people were just that: people. Sestero helped remind me of that, by showing Wiseau as human in his own way. Both narratives show Mr. Wiseau’s bizarre, outlandish, and sometimes terrifying behaviour. But we also get little insights into what may have caused these behaviours. I say may have because as Sestero himself admits, Tommy Wiseau didn’t like giving details of his past, and the picture left is incomplete at best.

The chapters involving the making of The Room serve to highlight Wiseau’s lack of experience in making a film, while at the same time showing how poorly he treats those around him. If anything, these chapters helped my sympathize with the rest of the crew, letting me realize that they were as much at the mercy of Wiseau and his strange behaviour as anyone else.

My favourite moment from the entire work, however, comes from the chapters detailing the friendship of Wiseau and Sestero. In one chapter, Sestero’s mother speaks with Wiseau after learning that Wiseau seems to be French. The brief chat adds one more detail to Wiseau’s backstory in the form of a quote:  "That man is not French. But whatever he is, I think he's been through the wringer."

I am kind of a sucker for urban fantasy novels. I love seeing how the author weaves the mundane and the fantastic together. I love seeing how the masquerade - if any - is preserved and how people remain in the dark.

I have to confess I’m one of those people who buy books based on the titles too. It happens more often than I’d care to admit. Something about the title appeals - maybe the individual words, maybe how they combine to make the title - and I just grab it.

Owl and the Japanese Circus was one of these books. It struck me as an odd title, and I had to read what it was about. A novel by Kristi Charish, it chronicles the (mis)adventures of a woman named Owl and her struggles on the job. Owl is a thief specializing in antiquities - and does her best to avoid the supernatural elements of the world around her... to varying degrees of success.

I’m going to come right out and say it: I loved this book. It caught my attention as I finished a sci-fi run of novels (finished The Culture novels I’d neglected) and it scratched the urban fantasy itch I had developed.

This is Kristi Charish’s first novel, but it doesn’t feel that way. Owl, her friends, and the various other characters mention enough prior events (or “Noodle Incidents”, if I wanted to use the TVTropes term) without getting too specific that it definitely does not feel like the first, nor does it seem like Owl’s first time out. The fact that she’s experienced, and this is just another (early) adventure means there’s some past to explore, some questions to ask and answers we can get. I liked that quite a bit.

Owl (not her real name) feels real. She’s smart, and kind of snarky, a little nerdy (she maintains an account on an MMO) and tough. A little Indiana Jones, too. And despite her many attempts to steer clear of the supernatural, she keeps running into them - the plot kicks off when a dragon forces her to take a job.

I say “a little Indiana Jones” for a few reasons. Part of it is the array of exotic locales makes me think of those movies (especially since, like Indy, Owl has archaeological background) and makes the novel different than the typical UF novels I read, focusing on whatever city the protagonist lives in.

Without spoiling (much) there is a reveal for one character that I would have preferred to be written a few novels in, after we as readers have come to love the character. That said, however, the reveal works very well with this novel’s plot, so I can’t even say it’s a complaint. It’s different and it works.

So in a previous post I mentioned my tendency to make reading lists for the summer. As my book stack is getting *wildly* out of control, I’m making myself a list now.

Steelheart - Brandon Sanderson

Firefight - Brandon Sanderson

Alif the Unseen - G. Willow Wilson

Thief’s Magic - Trudi Canavan

The Buried Giant - Kazuo Ishiguro

Hidden - Benedict Jacka

Ashes of Honor - Seanan McGuire

Chimes of Midnight - Seanan McGuire

The Winter Long - Seanan McGuire

Karen Memory - Elizabeth Bear

Trigger Warning - Neil Gaiman

Duma Key - Stephen King

Consider Phlebas - Iain M. Banks

Excession - Iain M. Banks

Inversions - Iain M. Banks

Matter - Iain M. Banks

The Hydrogen Sonata - Iain M. Banks

For a long time now I’ve had this idea in my head. A comic, webcomic, a novel? I can see it as all things, really, though as a (web)comic my thoughts on it really spread out. I think sharp, bright colours would serve the idea well.

Tonalamatl is a Nahuatl (the language spoken by the people we call “Aztecs”) word meaning “Pages of Days” - basically a calendar, and the title I’d use for this idea. As a comic, storyarcs would be divided into issues that, overall, cover 13 days (mirroring a Tonalamatl’s thirteen day divisions), with each comic roughly representing a day to two days (so maybe 6-7 issues per arc), and the first page of any issue that started a new day would contain some sort of reference - blatant or subtle - as to which day was under the auspices of which god or goddess.

Cast would start small. I foresee the first arc - “La Llorona” - revolving around three characters, each the demigod(dess) child of one of the Aztec deities, their experiences with “weird” things, until their movements bring them into contact with La Llorona, whom they fight, and who indicates that they are all children of gods.

Once that is done, the world opens wide, and their mythological experiences broaden. Quetzalcoatl/Ehecatl, Tezcatlipoca, and Huehuecoyotl all make appearances, mentoring, perhaps, their children.

After La Llorona’s arc, what becomes the point? Someone is trying to end the Fifth Age, expel the sun from the sky, before a new sun can be chosen.Or at least this would be the grand arc of the overall series. I can’t see something like that being a small, one-time arc. There would be steps in between. Perhaps they would only realize what this was all leading up to in the end.

There would be action, of course. Fight scenes. But I would want to see this address questions. What does it mean to be a god? What responsibilities do they have as the children of gods? More importantly: are they ready for all this? It would have to be character-driven. The cast would be diverse.

One of them would have a difficult time with the idea of being a god’s daughter. Her own major development arc would involve being killed and sent to Mictlan (the Underworld) where she undergoes a series of trials to allow her return. This would entail her - a character that previously preferred to use her skills and smarts - realizing that she could use her god-given abilities just like she could use her smarts or skills, and there was no shame in it. She would get over a fear of being “reliant” on those abilities.

I am thinking as well that each character’s particular arc (in which they gain the most development) would end in them taking on a Nahuatl name as well, to reflect their acceptance of who they are and what they can do. Perhaps one or two characters would already have done so before their appearance within the story..

I have a slight problem.

I collect books.

Oh comic books, sure. I’ve detailed that before. But book-books. Novels. I have 8 bookcases filled to the brim. I have a small table on which a jumble of board game boxes prop up another set of books. A stack of books sits against either side of one bookcase. Several other books sit in front of another.

Now, how many of these have I read?

Oh... 70% or so. There’s actually only one bookcase on which I’ve read everything. This one contains my Charles de Lint, Steven Brust, Jim Butcher, Neil Gaiman, and Haruki Murakami novels. I have everything they’ve written that has been released (though in Gaiman’s case, comic-related stuff sits elsewhere).

The rest it depends. I’m slowly working my way through the Iain M. Banks novels. I’ve read all the October Daye series (Seanan McGuire) and Alex Verus novels (Benedict Jacka). But the bookcase that holds those also has the Brandon Sanderson novels I’ve been buying. Only worked through half of those.

The bookcase behind me holds graphic novels and trade paperbacks. Those are all read. It holds biographies - I’ve read those. And it holds David Foster Wallace novels (still working on those) and Adrian Tchaikovsky novels (still working on those, too). It has A dozen short story collections and Doctor Who novels.

The bookcase just outside my door holds my William Gibson novels and Neal Stephenson novels. Those are read. A handful of Michael Crichton novels. I’ve only read Jurassic Park, there. It holds the rest of my science fiction novels, which are scattered one or novels from random authors, the blurb at the back of which interested me. Or maybe the title piqued my curiosity (as in the case of three Stephen Baxter novels - Stone Spring, Bronze Summer, Iron Winter).

I just picked up Karen Memory by Elizabeth Bear, and grabbed two short story collections in the same go.

I’ve had to write out schedules for reading before. I can usually guess how long it’ll take me to read something by how long it is. And if it takes me less, I always have the next book with me in my bag. I typically do that for the summer. I grabbed a set of books, decide what order I’m reading them. It’s how I got through that Complete Collection of Conan the Barbarian I picked up two summers ago.

Despite this, my novels are piling up. Rapidly.I never used to have this problem. I stuck to a small amount of authors and never deviated. Still I buy more.