Charles Yu, You know? Charles.

This is a story that takes place over a period of years. Long ago, I worked at a library replacing materials to their shelves. A certain book caught my attention "How to Live Safely in a Science Fiction Universe" by Charles Yu. I borrowed it. I read it. I was not prepared for its treatment of space & timing. Not in terms of "outer space" space though there might have been that. I have only read it once. It dealt with time travel in a serious way. In that certain elements of that storyline were out of sequence & thus hard to follow. This might have been in 2010 to 2011. I just picked up the copy I own of it in order to check & it was released in 2010. I did not understand it, but found it interesting all the same. Later, in 2012, I found out that Charles Yu had released another book. "Sorry. Please. Thank You." A collection of short science fiction stories. Now this book is one that I loved. Bite sized visits to where ideas come to life & are explored. Yu's writing sparked my imagination & made me think about writing & storytelling possibilities. I loved his entry "Inventory" which made use of blank space on pages with a single paragraph or sentence to spur forward motion on thought & self-awareness on progress in present & future matters & metrics. I have no relation for recommending Yu as a great writer or a deep writer. He just interested me with what he released & I wanted to recommend the book because the feelings it inspired in me, hoping for someone else to have the same catalyst I did. But for variables and frequency of how things strike & resonate with people, I just know he does for me. These two books were the extent of what I knew of Charles for a while. He became a tv writer on Westworld, where a writer I followed from comics, Ed Brubaker, spent some time. In a recent email newsletter, Brubaker recommended Charles Yu's new book coming out. I was excited & have put it in hold in my library queue. I haven't seen Westworld except its pilot, which was outside my orbit of effort as an HBO show for me to keep tabs. But I recently did watch all three seasons of FX's Legion, also available through my library system. Which I might address separately elsewhere & elsewhen as an experience. Why use a library material instead of streaming? Complicated, but simplified by my opening here: I like libraries, they are free, and I like physical media as a tangible reminder of weight & experience to do something. The connecting point here is that Yu also worked as a producer on the third season of Legion. Which had very strange ideas & visions of timing. So, inspired by Brubaker to search for the new book, I found Yu's debut book "Third Class Superhero" from 2006. At first I thought it was a novel by that title, as the book opens with that storyline. But I didn't like the beginning. It stressed me out mood-wise with its down-on-his-luck protagonist who was approaching mid-life as a mediocre superhuman who struggled to make ends meet. If it was meant to be humorous, it is in a dark, desperate means by way of chronic depression. It sat on my floor for a while, but I came back to it this week to see if I found an interest to hook me into the author's world. A chapter ended on a complicated note of tragedy & triumph in the life of the character, then I got to a second headed section, focused on a different character. It took me a few pages of reading to realize it was not about superheroes & struggle. Third Class Superhero is a short story collection as well. I was slightly relieved & very intrigued now, as I previously stated I really enjoyed his other collection. I am midway through the book & had to pause to collect myself & my thoughts. Yu toys with abstraction & emotional awareness in a Science Fiction lens. It appeals to my interests, but also makes me very hyperaware of myself & my psychological approach for how I understand who I am and my place in this world. I read the story, "The Man Who Became Himself", which reminded me of Neil Gaiman's "Foreign Parts" short story, except with personality awareness becoming foreign rather than a creeping physical hijacking of selfhood in Gaiman. In short, this current real world medical crisis has only heightened my perception of self-awareness & relationships with other people. This "Third Class Superhero" collection is truly being experienced in the best of times & worst of times for my receptiveness. I know I am not alone physically, emotionally, & psychologically - others presumably read this author given his body of work so far. But reading is a personal experience & Yu's toolbox picks apart at this communion of communication of himself as an intermediary to connect the characters' angst & awareness to each reader. And I have an itch to talk about it to someone, about how weird it is to be alive & to be aware of being alive & wondering what to do about this life & awareness. I am fascinated by Yu's career & although I have not told you much in the plots of what he writes, as much as how he writes it and affects me, I hope you are able to make use of this recommendation. Or, barring that, that whatever author is able to connect with you on a similar frequency, that you are reminded of them & are able to experience & enjoy the emotional journey of that person's work.

Ladybird & Bella

I just got home after watching Greta Gerwig's film "Lady Bird." It impacted me enough to warrant comment & consideration to reawaken this medium.

I went into the film knowing little. I had heard that it was by a lady director, which is sadly worth mentioning, given that women being free to direct shouldn't be a notable aspect. And that it was getting some attention as being a good film. I liked the sound of both of those without wanting to know more and have expectations as to the content of the film. I like being surprised and having to pay attention to what is going on to understand the context of the story.

Lady Bird is a coming of age arc of a Sacramento catholic high school student in the early 2000's. Catherine MacPherson wants to be known as "Lady Bird," and wants more than the stagnant promises of her hometown. She doesn't fit into the preppy wealth of her classmates in the school - her parents scrimp & save to allow her the opportunity of a good education in a safe environment.
There is a tension between Catherine & her mother as their relationship shifts through Catherine wanting to have the freedom to explore who she is & might become. Her mother wants to help her daughter achieve her goals, but there is only so much she can do. Both are frustrated by the family financial situation not allowing them breathing room to indulge Catherine's dreams and aspirations. Her mother tries to keep her daughter grounded in realistic expectations - Lady Bird, as Catherine insists she be called, is not an exceptional student, and the family doesn't have the money to pay for an out of state education in New York that she wants.

Catherine feels trapped & cornered, and lashes out at her mother's criticisms as being unsupportive. Neither mother or daughter can find the right words to communicate, and often the wrong choices of words are used instead. Both characters are flawed, neither one is the villain, and the dynamics are painfully real at times. I admire how the writing and actors mesh to form a dimensional cast of characters.  The film has some powerful portrayals of relationship dynamics among friends, dating, cliques, parents, & authority figures at the school. The editing is efficient in showing important moments to show the impressions of these on screen without dragging out the length of the film.

The complicated relationship of the mother & daughter really hits home. The actions of Catherine's mother demonstrate her love for her daughter, and Catherine knows this, and knows that she is asking more than her family can provide. But Catherine wants desperately to be able to have such things, partially so that she can demonstrate back how much their sacrifices have paid off. But meanwhile, she is a teenager with dreams, nothing to show for them yet, and is frustrated with her present situation and the slimness of her chance of ever escaping the fate of a mundane lifestyle.

This movie reminded me of how much I should appreciate my parents for all they have done for me. Lady Bird ends on a note that just feels apt, life happens like that. Endings are a hard thing to stick, & I was okay with where it landed. It took me the drive home to sort out and marvel on how it was done. I probably will not watch it again, but it was well done & a story conveyed well. I am happy it was made & hope that it inspires others to tell their own stories that only they can show.


---

Recently, I revisited the film "Bella." It also deals with the idea of motherhood & how difficult it is to consider raising a child when you are barely scraping to support yourself. I like how this film deals with family, food, and futbol. And how the three are not mutually exclusive interests. The family in this movie is so full of joy, compassion, and love that I enjoy seeing its portrayal every time. For such a short window in the movie, it is memorable and important.

The majority of "Bella" takes place in the course of a day in New York. A waitress reports in late for a job and is fired by the owner. The owner's brother is the head chef, and follows the girl out to find out why she was late & learns it was due to her finding out that she was pregnant & has nobody in her life on which she can lean on for support. The chef asks if she needs a friend with whom to talk about this situation, given her earlier admission. He quietly listens as she tells about her background of how she got here in this situation, and explore her options in the future in regards to a new job & what to do with the pregnancy.

Through the course of the day, both the chef & the waitress learn more about each other's past lives and how their paths led them to where they intersected that day. It is a quiet movie, and it shows things rather than telling. And the images used convey the emotion of the story very well. Bella means beautiful, and it is a beautifully simple film.

---

Both films made me cry
For this I am not ashamed
Sometimes life is pain

Diary of a Country Priest - George Bernardos

This is a book to depress the hell out of me, but it has not often raised my gaze heavenwards.
It is a tale of a struggling poor priest in a small parish who is too earnest for his physical frailties.
He has high standards for what he wants to be, what fruits he wants to bear of his faith.
He wants to reflect well on the glories of heaven, but the things of earth complete for his allegiance.

There is a balance between spirituality and practicality. Of seeking the counsel with the Almighty God's guidance, while not neglecting to eat your next meal and serve the Body down here.
The priest wrestles with this balance. He laments his poverty, but admits that he didn't have the ability to be a man of business or a laborer. This is the course he chose and the church is his meaning and mission.

But he struggles to communicate himself clearly to those around him. He is burdened with a gut wrenching feelings of both spiritual and physical constipation. He dances in agony trying to release his internal ruminations to the outside world. But his flock and his fellow clergymen turn up their nose at his idealistic offerings, gently reminding him to get through the next day. He swings for the fences when those on his team would be more contented with him connecting to the pitches thrown his way.

He is dependent on the gifts he receives from his parishioners, patrons, and peers. This beholdenness leaves him in a constant state of guilty gratitude and debt to others.

From Under the Cork Tree - Fall Out Boy

I believe that there is a time and place for everything. I miss things by years. It takes time for cultural touchstones to seep into my purview (and price range). I am skeptical of the hype connected with new artists and groups. If they stick around, I decide maybe that survival speaks to something underlying that vibe.

But even when I picked up Fall Out Boy's From Under the Cork Tree and Infinity on High from the discount bin of a used bookstore, it was the price tag more than the group that sold me. My first encounter with a FOB fan was with a co-worker during my employment at the library. Folie a Deux tour was happening, and he was wearing a t-shirt with the cover art. It was their farewell tour and album, but I hadn't had occasion or reason to listen to the group's music.

There are certain pop songs that get such airplay that I hear them as background while doing other things. Sugar We're Going Down was familiar, but even when I connected the mental dots that FOB sang the track, it wasn't persuasive to my tastes. Now that the band was ending, I was curious as to what I missed. I went on YouTube and started looking up songs by the group.

One of the first songs I found was A little less sixteen candles (A little more touch me). Frankly, Fall Out Boy's early album's track titles were too clever and/or complicated by half. The majority have almost nothing to do with the song's lyrical theme or bent. Even now, saying that this particular song is one of my favorites is said with slight chagrin.

That song, along with Sugar We're Going Down & thnks fr th mmrs, were in a three song package deal online so I bought them for under $3, realizing that two out of three ain't bad. (I liked the first & third, respectively). So when I picked up the albums from the bookstore, those first two tracks were featured on From Under the Cork Tree, while Infinity on High had the third. However, since the former album had 11 other tracks and the latter had 13 other songs, paying $4.28 for both still came down to $.1783/track and that was a manageable wager to undertake on unknown music.

I stuck them on a shelf for a while, not having the inclination to test my experiment just then. It wasn't that I didn't like Fall Out Boy. In fact, when I borrowed Folie a Deux from the library, I enjoyed this last album's sound very much and was retroactively bummed that I didn't find it sooner. (FaD remains my favorite album by them. I broke down and bought it online this past year when Amazon Music had a sale. [The way I have to rationalize buying things that I like... It gets ridiculous]).

So when I finally put From Under the Cork Tree in my car's cd player for the first time, I found I didn't like it much. It was a young band with absurdly pretentious titles for songs that featured guitars and drums drowning out the high-pitched and incomprehensible vocals. This was their second album and it showed.

I wouldn't be reviewing the album if my opinion hadn't changed since then, and it has. In 2012, Fall Out Boy reunited and released Save Rock and Roll. Interest in the group rekindled among young-blooded punks and rebels. The 4-year hiatus had done wonders to rest and refocus the band as they grew from doing other things like solo projects and getting married to other pop stars of the 00's.

I became fond of the band because of the 2012 album delivering well upon the hype surrounding it. In doing so, I became less impatient and dismissive of their earlier work. During my drive home tonight, I relistened to From Under the Cork Tree and enjoyed it throughly. Yes, it is rough, raw, and loud. Yes, the titles are ridiculous and pretentious. But these are the roots from which this band grew and learned their craft. And as I approach the ages of the band members at that period of their career, a certain sympathy of spirit connects me to the music a little more. They are young, excited by their new opportunities, frustrated by some failures in their attempts, but determined to enjoy every moment they had. Even if it did turn out to be only 15 minutes of fame.

Fortunately, that album wasn't a sophomore slump for them. And Save Rock and Roll was easily the comeback of the year 2012. And my brother and I are looking very forward to their new record release next week American Beauty/American Psycho.

From Under the Cork Tree is an album meant to be streamlined. The few singles on the record are pitched up front, then it is into a breakneck pace as the songs bleed into the next track. Get Busy living or get Busy Dyin' (Do your part to save the scene and stop going to shows) is the second to last track, heaving for a rest and a rant before pressing on with one hand holding together the wound of their broken heart and the other swinging a stick at their attacker before the curtain call. (Aggravating the injury and making them more hurt and resentful emotionally as well...).

It finally fits into a time and place in my mind, and I will enjoy it for that. It is comforting for pieces to fall into place enough to catch a glimpse into a greater perspective. At least until they all dissolve and disintegrate once more, leaving only a memory of a time that was.

Falling out child
Into the rubbery roots
Under a cork tree

Memory - Donald Westlake

I was advised when starting this blog not to write posts about books which I didn't like. But as many books as I have read this year, this has given me hesitancy about whether to post anything at all.

I just finished Donald Westlake's last published novel, "Memory."  I have very much enjoyed his Dortmunder series, which follows the ill luck of a small time crime mastermind and his crew. Dortmunder is comedic in the situational problems which crop up in the heists undertaken. There are familiar touchstones in that series. The crew's fondness for stealing doctor's cars because of the luxuries which the MD's inevitably indulge. The OJ bar's regulars having half-drunken debates in which misunderstandings of the topic lead to interesting insights. The middle of the book epiphany to the reader's perspective, as Westlake's characters peel back the curtain to reveal greater truths about humanity.

"Memory" does not follow that cadence. It is excellently written as well, but it made me feel depressed rather than entertained. It begins with the actor, Paul Cole, who is on tour with an play. He is caught in an affair by the husband entering the hotel bedroom. The husband cracks Cole on the head, concussing him. When Cole awakens in the hospital, he has trouble with his memory. Upon leaving the hospital, he desires to return to his New York address, but doesn't have enough cash for the bus fare.

Instead, Cole ends up in a small town.  He is broke and finds a job at the local tannery, saving his money for a half-remembered mission to make it to New York. Some days he forgets his name, who he was, and what he is doing. He leaves notes to himself to remind himself of his job and his life, and he attempts to collect memories from his past life as an actor leave him frustrated and confused when he reads them later.

He falls into a routine, finding comfort in the physical labor and simple demands of his job and life in time.  He finds a girl named Edna who shyly takes an interest in him. Cole likes her, but feels guilty when remembering his mission to go to New York once he gets the money for the bus fare.

The story follows Cole's frustration with his memories to return & his reluctance to admit this weakness to anyone. This causes him to be alienate himself from social situations, makes him apologetic when engaged in one, and irritable when pressured as to why he can't recall commitments and promises he makes.

This took me a while emotionally to get through, but I made it through to the other end. It reminded me of the Nolan movie "Memento," only Cole doesn't have a polaroid camera, nor is the story told in a fragmented fashion.  Instead, Cole struggles with the fragments he receives from his slot machine memory, mostly falling into bed with empty hands and emptier pockets.


I think I shall soon
Violate personal taboo
And review comics

Transmetropolitan - Warren Ellis and Derick Robertson

I am rereading through this series of graphic novels by Warren Ellis and Derick Robertson. I have a love-hate relationship with the stories. I picked up the first issue as a reprint of the Vertigo line: for $1 it was being offered as a hook to engage new readers to successful stories of the past.
I liked Warren Ellis's writing in most comics mediums that I read. He has a rich and dark draw to character detail, while Derick Robertson was unfamiliar to me until I read this.

The first issue features Spider Jerusalem, acclaimed journalist & best-selling author of three books, living in squalor at the top of a mountain. He has been a recluse for the past five years, when his publisher calls, reminding him that his contract calls for two more books. Spider had long spent the advances on his book contract, and is now faced with legal litigation if he fails to fill his end of the contract.

He packs up his junk and disarms his mountain shack's heavy defenses, put in effect to ward off any visitors or fans from his days in the city. But to this city he must return, because if he is to write two more books about the city, he has to experience it for himself. And, as chronicled in the ten volumes, that is what he does.

The city is an entity in itself. The population drowns in constant media advertisement, addictive mind-altering pharmaceuticals, and thousands of start-up religions. Everything is tailored to the consumer, but nothing fits for long. And Spider Jerusalem has returned to reclaim his position at the center of the information web, pulling strings and uncovering the decaying flies trapped in the city's framework.

And that is the crux of the matter. I have conflicting thoughts regarding this series' premise and presentation. Ellis's writing is excellently plotted, though it uses a channel of much swearing and creatively distasteful epithets. Robertson's artwork is mind-numbingly detailed, from street litter to background billboards, an environment is created and fleshed out. It is the flesh part that is troubling: the city's inhabitants are very carnal in their appetites and unashamed of their vices. In a world where almost everything is recorded, the probability that your vices will merit the attention of others is curiously inversely proportional.

The artwork depicts a city that is quite depraved and given whole-heartedly to the newest novelty, once the nasty business of preparing to survive the next day is settled. Spider is a novelty among novelties. No other journalist writes like he does with such success and popularity. He is not a personable fellow, like a Socrative gnat, he buzzes about the city with a recorder & a determination to uncover the truth behind the lies. The problem remains that his audience sees him as entertainment, and whatever he shows them, the changes do not last for long. They find new and more horrible ways to enslave themselves to no greater purpose.

Spider is self-destructive in his habits, smoking constantly, drugging himself in his off-days, and chasing stories which usually result in him having a wolf by the ears. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. And Spider grins and demands them served as a double and knocks it back. He will live that way until he can not or does not have the strength to do so.

Because Spider loves and hates his city more passionately than I love and hate these stories. He loves it for what it is and that it gives him a purpose to seek out truth, but he hates that the city is what it is and that it will not listen and change for better.

Borges' Continuity

I have continued my exploration of this series of short stories. I find I am enjoying them better now that the taste is more familiar than before when I was testing his waters.

"The Streetcorner Man" is the second story, also treated as an autobiographical anecdote. Borges as a young man in a small town looked up to the local head punk nicknamed "The Slasher." This was a fellow who walked with an easy swagger and had the town beauty on his arm. The story concerns the night that a tough from another town rolls into a local dance barn and calls the Slasher out. This "Butcher" heard that there was a kid who fancied himself good with a knife and wanted to see for himself. To Borges's shock and disappointment, his hero the Slasher does nothing, allowing this Butcher to steal his girl and dignity in public. The events which unfold afterward change the course of Borges's life and views, and the tale ends in a way that invites speculation and interpretation as to exactly how much Borges changed.

"The Approach to al Mu'tasim" is the third piece. It reads as a book review of the first Bombay mystical  whodunnit. Borges has access to a second edition of the story which was reprinted in England, and describes the plot in a drawn out fashion. He holds the mysticism up to the light and decides that the book might have been better in the first edition, without the shifts in wording between the first and second edition. Interesting in the abstract, but not the real meat of this book.

"The Circular Ruins" is the fourth piece. After I finished this short story, I thanked my friend via text message for the novel again. This was a short tale in which I was well pleased and engaged.

In the beginning, a gray man washes up on the shore, and stumbles to a temple to dream. Not just sleep, but to dream a man into life. He receives food and water from unseen villagers, who recognize him as a priest or magician. This man has a single purpose in his dreaming, and creates a mental classroom to instruct constructs on the nature of reality and the steps necessary to achieve it. In the course of this slumbered semester, he weeds out the "yes, sir" students who passively accept his lectures. He drills those reflections who question him to further narrow the field to the worthiest of becoming real. Just when the dreamer is on the cusp of moving to the next stage with a student, disaster strikes in the form of insomnia. He cannot achieve a dream state in which to connect to his tutelage.

The descriptions and care with which Borges weaves this story are very attractive to my sensibilities of imagination. The ending sentence of the story made me think, and smile at the thought. Like a last note of a finely performed song, I was driven to encore him in moving on to the next story.

"Death & The Compass" was another non-autobiographical short story. It concerned an intellectual private detective and the head officer investigating a murder of a Jewish Rabbi. The practical policeman assumes that it was a jewel heist gone wrong, as the Jew's hotel room was opposite a known man of wealth. The detective, Erik Lonnrot, sees the a page on the dead man's typewriter: "The first letter of the Name has been uttered" and connects it to a greater semitic agenda. A second and third murder accompanied by mystical symbols reinforce this original suspicion. Lonnrot studies the dead man's books and discovers the legend of the 99 names of God, of the theory that there is a hundredth name, one that is Absolute and powerful.

This story is also well executed, holding my interest and curiosity as to the resolution and revelation of the mystery. I had to read some passages multiple times to understand what happened though, as the names and locations were unfamiliar to my mental landscape.

The sixth piece is extremely short. "The Life of Tadeo Isidoro Cruz." It is a portrait of symmetry, but the players were unfamiliar to me, so I was left with a vague feeling that I was missing a piece of history which would set this in startling clarity and focus.

That is all I have

Because today was mixed bag

Of cats with coffee