New Moon - Twilight, Book 2

Today New Moon, the second in Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series, is the 5th bestselling Kindle book. Book 4 of the same series is the 2nd bestselling book, and Book 3 of the same series is the 4th bestselling book. In Amazon's paper bestsellers, New Moon ranks #11, behind books of the same series at #4, #7, and #8.

In other words, New Moon and the Twilight series are insanely popular.

As I read the first three-quarters of New Moon, I was on my way to becoming one more of Meyer's legion of fans. New Moon keeps all that was good about Book 1, and improves it. As I had been hoping, protagonist Bella begins to grow up and become an even stronger character.

Bella wants to become a vampire so she can be with her boyfriend, forever. Meyer thwarts Bella's desire in the most exciting way possible- by having the boyfriend dump Bella. This teenage tragedy may not have the literary substance of Ulysses- but Bella is a quintessential protagonist. Sincere and relentless in her drive to get what she wants, Bella is a protagonist who makes things happen- an ideal engine for the story. She forces fights between monsters, drives her boyfriend from the country, goes on wild motorcycle rides, jumps off cliffs, goes flying half-way around the world on a moment's notice. She is a person who does dangerous things to satisfy her desires, and her dramatic actions result in an equally dramatic story.

In Book 2 Bella is not only a stronger protagonist, but she is stronger physically and emotionally, too. She's a lot tougher in the first three-quarters of Book 2- no more fainting spells every other page. The experience of being dumped by her boyfriend, and living through it, makes her emotionally tougher, as well. This was exactly the sort of character growth I was looking for after Book 1 to justify the series as a good, if guilty-pleasure, read. I was even impressed by Meyer's technique of letting blank chapters scroll past as the time passes during which Bella is in shock after her romantic tragedy.

Unfortunately my praise of the book ends at the point in the story where the action drives toward the climax (at exactly the same point I lost interest in Book 1). Several things happen, all of which indicate a decline of quality in the narrative: 1. Bella leaves New Forks (the created world where she coexists with vampires and werewolves). 2. Action drama overtakes relationship drama (Meyer writes relationship drama better than action sequences). 3. Bella begins to faint, droop, swoon, or topple about so often that she is rarely on her own feet. 4. Tension comes from an outside danger instead of coming from the existing situation established in the first three-quarters of the book. 5. Meyer has to do an awful lot of explaining about why certain acts would be awful or terrible for one or more of the characters to live through- her readers should already know that in their guts if the threat is going to hit them where it hurts.

Toward the end of the story New Moon did reclaim a little of my interest by delving deeper into Twilight mythology. We learned more about the enmity between vampires and werewolves (Meyer did achieve the kind of set-up necessary to make the reader feel a visceral sorrow for the fact that Bella has dear friends of both species who are sworn enemies to each other). Meyer also does a little more explaining about what makes Bella so special in her mythological scheme, and adds further interest and complication to the subject of whether or not Bella will achieve her dream of becoming a vampire.

The Phoenix Requiem

More fun than working, and free, too- if you've never followed an online graphic novel, you might consider giving Sarah Ellerton's The Phoenix Requiem a try. The Phoenix Requiem is a Victorian-style fantasy tale with horror overtones and just enough polite sexual tension to keep things interesting. The artwork is pretty- Ellerton renders her human characters with warmth and humor, and her supernatural beings are appropriately ethereal or horrid, depending on whether they are spirits or shades.

At first I wasn't sold on heroine, Anya, a marriage-averse guy magnet. Anya is a doctor in training, fighting against the idea that a woman's place is in the home. Based on the feminist premise, I feared she'd become a one-sided character- but Anya's struggle is mostly with herself, as she attempts to balance her career goals and personal desires. This conflict resonates well with modern audiences of both sexes, and when combined with Anya's genuine empathy for the health and well-being of those around her, creates an endearing heroine.

The Phoenix Requiem is a work in progress. I just finished reading up to Volume 3. Ellerton posts 2-3 pages twice a week. Those who enjoy watching the novel take form, little by little, can eagerly await each new post. I prefer to let several chapters build up, and then pig out on Phoenix Requiem fun.

House of Leaves

Over the past months I've been talking a lot about eBooks. Today I'm going to discuss a book that absolutely has to be read on paper- thick volume weighty in your lap, paper sliding between your fingers. House of Leaves needs to be read right-side-up, upside-down, diagonally. It needs to be read in color. You'll need easy access to the footnotes, or you'll miss at least half the story, and you'll want easy access to the appendices in back. Don't skip parts like this written in red, they are some of the best bits.

The book is a haunted house tale, but if you're expecting ghosts, think again. The protagonist of the story has never even been to the house. He simply had the misfortune of finding a manuscript- presumably the very manuscript we, as readers, hold in our hands. Truant has annotated the manuscript with his own comments and experience, which grow more disturbing and...creative in layout...as the story progresses. The manuscript itself is a scholarly work on the subject of a documentary film which, as Truant tells us, probably never existed. The non-existent documentary is about a house which mistreats three-dimensional space much the way the layout of House of Leaves mistreats traditional manuscript format.

I thoroughly enjoyed House of Leaves. It would be tempting to think all the crazy formats, colors, and footnotes were mere gimmicks to garner attention- but Danielewski proves that he uses each special effect to draw his reader deeper into the story. There is an artful resonance between the printed layout and the plot. No opportunity is wasted, be it a footnote, a translation, an exhaustive list of architects- to blur the line between what is real, and what is nightmare.

Vampires for Change (Monsters with Human Faces)

Most spec fiction writers I know have posed this question, in one way or another:

Vampires: Why are they so popular? Didn't we, quite recently, already do vampires? So why is everybody into vampires *again*? And when will it stop?

One version of this authorial vampire angst was left as a comment right here on my blog.

The answer I usually give to this question is: sexuality. The vampire myth, with its exchange of bodily fluids, is a great metaphor for sex. As each new generation goes through its sexual awakening, vampires stories are a great way to explore sexuality. But this answer rings a little hollow. After all- adults hop happily onto the undead band wagon when vampire stories surge in popular culture.

A better answer to "why vampires, *again*!?" came to me yesterday, when my husband sent me a link to the plot synopsis of True Blood (True Blood is a vampire series currently on HBO- my husband wants to talk me into subscribing to HBO so he can watch Flight of the Concords).

Vampires are super popular now, and were super popular several years ago, not because of the sexual connotations of their mythos, but because vampires are monsters with the faces of men.

Probably one of the best books I've ever read by Stephen King wasn't a work of fiction, but his Danse Macabre, in which he explains the psychology that makes his craft work. He talks about the sci fi and horror movies of the 1940's-1960's, and explains that fears of the American mainstream were expressed and digested in the form of genre fiction films.

King says there is a reason that aliens in sci fi flicks of that era have Asian features- because aliens from outer space were standing in for American fears about aliens from across the sea. He talks about fear the adult middle class felt toward the rising independence of the teenager in the 50's (read teenage werewolf film), about fear of air raids and bombs dropping (meteors and alien space craft crashing down from the sky). King posits that successful horror and sci fi film makers took fears of the American middle class, and turned those fears into monsters- into tangible bogeymen who could spook us, attack us, horrify us, but eventually be overcome.

So if vampires are the bogeymen of modern-day, mainstream American fears...what are those fears? I'd like to posit that vampires are the bogeymen of changing cultural mores.

The last vampire craze which many thought was "over" had a purpose. The purpose was to find the humanity in people who are "not like us-" in other words, finding the human face of the monster.

As the scope of mainstream American vision expanded, it feared the bogeymen of foreigners, people of different religions, homosexuals. The challenge for mainstream America at that moment was to look at the face of the other- the "monster"- and see not foreigners, heretics, or degenerates- but to see people.

During this first wave of modern vampire popularity, all we were asked to do was to look, to see, to generate compassion and appreciate that the "monster" could have human feelings. Reading Interview with a Vampire (a 1976 book that was still popular and churning out sequels in the 90's and beyond) we came to feel for Louis's suffering. Watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer we were captivated by the idea of Angel, a vampire with a soul, a conscience, and we felt compassion for him. This theme repeated with Spike's character- as he, too, became someone the audience could feel for, care about, even love. The theme of the humanized vampire was so strong it supported a successful spin-off series, Angel.

In this first wave of the modern-day, warm-fuzzy vamp, all the audience was asked to do was generate compassion, to find the human face of the monster, and recognize that it existed. Mainstream America had only been asked to admit that homosexuality existed, to admit that there were people from other lands, with other traditions and spiritual beliefs. They had not yet been asked how they were going to integrate these "monsters"- these agents of change- into their everyday lives.

But of course recognizing the humanity of the "other" is only one step in the process. Next we learn to live together.

Nowadays when Joe Middle America needs technical support, he's likely to talk to someone with a strong accent from overseas- and that person may have recently immigrated to the U.S.- or may actually be overseas at the time of the call. Joe Middle America's kids may play games or hang out at social network sites in which they chat with people from the Ukraine, or Argentina- or practically anywhere in the world. It is not so unusual for folks to have a Hindu or Muslim colleague. Gay marriage is slowly legalizing from state to state.

Mainstream America has recently had to make a big jump- from recognizing that the "other" is a person, too- to living elbow to elbow with the "other," to integrating his presence into our sense of community. As with any change, there are feelings of uneasiness, and repressed fear. So fiction lends its helping hand, brings the vampire puppets out of the toy chest, and puts on some more shadow plays to help people cope, adjust, digest the new.

The amazingly popular Twilight series, from what I have read so far, asks the question: if a human girl and a vampire boy are going to have a relationship- how will it work? How will they be together? How can they be a couple? Now as I read more books in this series, I'll be looking to see how Meyer answers this question. BtVS asked this question too, but the answer was a resounding- they can have feelings for each other, but a life together is impractical. As the realities of what folks need to cope with changes, so does fiction's take on the vampire.

The real clincher for me, as I think through the relationship between mainstream America and vampire fiction, is the plot of True Blood. In the True Blood universe some scientist has eliminated the needs of the predator, so that vampires and humans can live and work together. Vampires are being integrated into regular society. I'm quoting from the website, here:

"Vampires have progressed from legendary monsters to fellow citizens overnight...[however, many humans] remain apprehensive about these creatures 'coming out of the coffin'."

"Coming out of the coffin" reads "coming out of the closet" to me. But I think the current crop of vampire tales hits a fear spot that is trying to cope with more than just homosexuality, but a whole bunch of changes about who is a friend, who is a neighbor, what is community in a globalizing world?

Change is unavoidable. Change is wonderful. Change is exhilarating...and also a little bit scary. American pop culture has worked through fear of change in some pretty unexpected ways- drowning the fictional world in vampire stories is only one of them. Still, no matter how sick and tired of vampires many spec fiction writers may be, I'm willing to let folks wallow in the vampire mythos as long as they need to work through their fears, digest the change, and come out stronger and more tolerant on the other side.

Duma Key had me at hello

Several weeks ago when I posted about the Kindle's bestseller lists in science fiction, fantasy, and horror, I mentioned that King held three of the top five places in the list. Now he holds two of the top five (his number five usurped by Scott Smith). But King's latest novel, Duma Key, still holds strong at number one. Duma Key also ranks #2 in horror in Amazon's paper bound bookstore.

There's no doubt King's well-known name helps Duma Key climb bestseller lists. Yet I can't help but wonder whether the extraordinarily strong opening of the book isn't responsible for a lot of those sales. Whether readers downloaded the first sample chapter of the novel on their Kindle, downloaded the free PDF sample from Amazon's product description page, or flipped through the first chapters in a brick and mortar store- there's no doubt that something magical was going on in those first few chapters, and I'll bet readers sensed it. To quote a favorite saying of Melinda, eldest daughter of Duma Key's protagonist, this novel "had me at hello."

I think King's depiction of his damaged protagonist in the opening chapters is some of his best writing. The horror element of those initial pages isn't supernatural in the least- hospital beds, blinding pain, rage, confusion- are all very real. Details, such as the words printed on the seat belt that pressed near the protagonist's face during the accident that ended his "first life," are just as terrible, perhaps more terrible, than the supernatural horror story that follows.

Can such a strong beginning sustain so high a level of quality through nearly 600 hardcover pages? In the case of Duma Key, the answer is no.

As the protagonist began his journey of rebuilding his "second life," King began to use the familiar (and fun) patterns of supernatural fiction writing, and some of the raw energy of the opening was lost. One of the strengths of the body of the novel was repetition of themes embodied through specific details of everyday life. The novel's biggest weakness was a long stretch of "too good to be true" fortune and friendship forging, that bordered on too ideal and too sweet for me, even if King constantly held the threat of ominous mojo coming to ruin it all.

And, though the climax of the novel held my attention and made me hold my breath, I could almost see the bones of the story outline poking through the flesh of the narrative. King brought the story to a satisfying conclusion, but he didn't get the job done with anywhere near the skill and insight that he used to open it.

Although the stunning quality of the opening waned, Duma Key is still one of my supernatural fiction favorites. It was a fun, satisfying read. My criticism is that the superb opening made me expect something more of the middle and the end.

Oh- and I may never be able to face a rag doll again. Especially if its hair is RED.

The Devil in the White City

When I was growing up in Iowa, Chicago was "The City," a place of wonder, with museums, exotic animals, musicals, and skyscrapers. All the best field trips and family vacations took me to Chicago. I saw Phantom of the Opera at the Auditorium Theater, went up to the top of the Sears Tower, saw my very first dinosaur skeletons at the Field Museum and marveled at the creatures of the deep at the Field Aquarium. I saw Picasso for the very first time at the Art Institute of Chicago, and went to an exhibition that introduced me to Monet. It might sound funny, but my first sight of water that stretched to the horizon was Lake Michigan in downtown Chicago. The boats and the infinity of the water made a huge impression on me. And, did I forget to mention the zoo?

So maybe that's why I enjoyed Erik Larson's The Devil in the White City so much. Sure, there were people burned alive in kilns, some graphic dissections, and a taste of the body snatching trade to appeal to my spec fiction sensibilities, but what really kept me reading Larson's book was the architecture. The book recounts the events that led up to the Chicago World's Fair of 1893, and along the way, the history of the architects who designed and built the fair's famous White City. Some readers may thrill at the mention of the first Ferris Wheel, but I got goosebumps hearing about how the Auditorium Theater was built, and how landscape architect, Frederick Olmstead (who also designed Central Park in New York), chose Andrew Jackson Park as the site for the World's Fair, because it looked over Lake Michigan, the best view in Chicago.

The Devil in the White City showed the Chicago of the 1890's for what it was- a filthy urban center based on the meat packing industry. How could a city of butchers that built its suburbs upwind of the stockyards and whose garbage-strewn streets bred cholera transform itself into the host of the spectacular World's Colombian Exhibition? Larson takes us step by step through the transformation of the fairgrounds and the city. He contrasts this move toward the modern, the civilized, the striving toward establishing culture in the Midwest, with the brutal acts of a serial killer who dwelt and killed in Chicago as the White City rose up, then burned down.

The 1893 Chicago World's fair is coming up in a lot of my reading lately- Sarah Vowell's books, as well as Against the Day by Thomas Pynchon. It was a lot of fun to delve more deeply into this historic event.

William Shatner speaks Esperanto and the Curse of Incubus

For the past two years my husband and I have gone on Esperanto learning kicks over the summer. This year we had enough of the language under our belts to start having fun. We ordered a book of poetry in Esperanto, downloaded some songs from iTunes in the language, and we even found a film spoken entirely in Esperanto!

The film is called Incubus. Made in 1965, Incubus falls somewhere between a guilty-pleasure B horror flick and an Ingmar Bergman Cries and Whispers or The Seventh Seal. The plot of this movie isn't nearly as important as the emotion and symbology conveyed by the cinematography- which the film can express much better than I can. There has been a lot of discussion about William Shatner's pronunciation of Esperanto- which he learned expressly for the film in a matter of weeks.

But what I'm really interested in is the curse. The special features of the Incubus DVD made a convincing case for the Incubus Curse. Wikipedia did a good job of enumerating the incidents, too.

1. The pure young woman threatened with rape by evil was played by Ann Atmar, who committed suicide a few weeks after the film wrapped.

2. The spooky, creepy bad guy in the film was played by Milos Milos. About a year after the film was shot, Milos shot his girlfriend, then himself.

3. One of the female "bad guys" was played by Eloise Hardt. Her daughter was later kidnapped and murdered.

4. In 1993 Consolidated Film Industries reported that the only print and all negatives of the film had been lost in a fire.

To listen to the film's producer, Anthony Taylor, describe the incident, he was crushed when he learned the last surviving print of Incubus was destroyed. Several years later, Taylor's friend happened across a battered and forgotten version of the film (subtitled in French) at the Cinematique Francaise in Paris. The print was in awful shape, and it took international cooperation, modern technology, Taylor's passion to revive the film, and funds and promotion from the Sci-Fi Channel to bring the light and shadow, the love and hate, the purity and corruption of Incubus to a new generation of spec fic fans.

Dracula 1.0 From Gothic to Horror Fiction

It only seems fair after writing a post called Dracula 2.0 to write one in honor of Dracula 1.0. The version numbers aren't just for fun- Bram Stoker's Dracula founded pop culture's fascination with the vampire, and, according to the HWA, was the "seminal horror work." But Bram Stoker did not invent the vampire. Blood-sucking legend has a long folklore history, nor was Bram Stoker the first to introduce the legend in literary form. This honor is usually attributed to Carmila by Sheridan Le Fanu. Carmila heavily influenced Stoker's novel, and is not unlike the beta version of some great software that never gained the popularity of its 1.0 release candidate.

So why do kids dress up as Dracula instead of Carmila on Halloween? Why doesn't the HWA (Horror Writers Association) give out Le Fanu awards instead of the Stoker awards? The answer has to do with genre. Carmila is an example of Gothic fiction, not horror.

Gothic fiction is all about ambiance and spooky atmosphere. Gothic novels are often romances, in which a nubile young woman faces a supernatural threat that parallels the threat of her deflowering (think Jane Eyre). Gothic fiction is all about building a sense of dread, and the spooky is in the suspense, the heroine's fragility, and her grim surroundings.

The principle characteristic of horror fiction is shock. A head is severed by a chain saw, a psychopath sews a suit of human skin, a victim falls in vat of acid and we see him dissolve.

Horror is the child of Gothic fiction- horror borrows the build-up of suspense and dreadful atmosphere, then shows us the gruesome, physical details of the dreaded event. Bram Stoker's Dracula is honored as a seminal horror work because it built on the Gothic fiction elements of Le Fanu's Carmila and got down to the gritty physical details of vampirism. Gross scenes in Dracula include crude blood transfusions, eating insects and birds raw, cutting the head off a corpse. Dracula contains elements of both Gothic and horror fiction, which is one of the reasons I love it.

My interest in the horror genre leans more toward the creepy atmosphere and build-up of suspense than the gross-out. This is a purely personal preference, and it explains why I love Stephen King books like Needful Things, Insomnia, and Salem's Lot, but can't get past the first two pages of The Stand. The Stand begins with shocking gross-out events, the other King novels I mentioned begin with spooky atmosphere in small towns.

The horror genre runs on a spectrum from Gothic to shock- is your preference at one of he extremes or dead in the middle?