steveatwaywords's reviews
1212 reviews

Huxley's experimental form in Ape and Essence (a movie transcript partially framed inside a couple of Hollywood-types seeking its author) is an intriguing choice. I wondered frequently what it accomplished: What does the story frame (offered only in Chapter 1 and not again) and then the odd, surreal, hypnotic story (with apocalyptic fables, ape characters, and pseudo-Greek chorus beside a post-war irradiated survivor-society)--what does it add to Huxley's clearly satirical and heavy-handed lecturing on human morality? My answer is, largely nothing but a creative distraction, perhaps from the ranting politics of its author (only poorly disguised as the script-writer himself).

So distracting was this quaalude-induced storybuilding, that I had a difficult time enjoying Huxley's vision for what it was: a darkly accurate portrayal of how close to the cultural skin our biology sits, and how a literal flick-of-the-social-switch can turn human behavior upon itself, transform our sense of reason and submission, surrender our ambition to happiness to one of deserved misery. And it requires little more than a reinterpretation, a reinscribing, of our existing symbols to accomplish it. As intimate as culture and biology are, so too are Christianity and devilry, procreation and devastation, abeyance and detestation, peace and destruction.

Many are reading this now, in the 2020s, as prophetic of our current political malaise, globally and in the US. I agree that we can be much informed by books like this, our politician machinations and our own subservience might be made transparent. But nothing about Huxley is merely contemporary: this condition of fragility has always existed, and for this, missing Huxley for the over-obsessed Orwell misses something darker in our own hearts.

So reading Ape and Essence now--whenever your now is--makes a lot of sense. Just swallow hard at the opening weirdness, feel free to dig into the first chapter's historical references or not, but dwell on the story. And pray for detumescence.  

Say to yourself, "Hey, I've always wondered what is was like to sit around a mead hall and hear a good traditional Viking story," inhale these two short tales (excerpted from a larger Penguin Seven Viking Romances, and you've pretty much succeeded. 

Filled with family trees (which meant something more to somebody once), giants, promiscuous farmers' daughters, corruption and honor, more giants, horny warrior heroes, magic, beautiful princesses, monsters, giants, glorious deaths, and several unremarkable sea voyages, all in two stories that one hour's read can complete -- what more could you really ask for?

I imagine that some might offer historical context to stories like these (and a brief intro does just this), but they can be appreciated for the tale-telling alone, for their historical moment which has set the tone for folk tales and fantasies afterward, and we need not wonder or worry overmuch about their higher literary merit. 

Oh, and the book size is cute, too.

This book is a handy read of the "original" two Viking sagas which document Leif Erikson's white discovery of America around 1000 CE. Neither of the sagas was written during the time of the discovery (true of so much of our classical and medieval-era history!), but the hefty introduction to this work (nearly 50 pages) accounts for the verification of the documents, their own history and translation, and archaeological and other scientific evidence which leads us to support their veracity.

Here's the thing. This Penguin edition is from the mid-1960s, so the introduction is quite dated, and so much evidence in all these camps has been accumulated since then that I felt I was reading a fair amount of speculation for its day. (Later evidence has more fully supported the events, of course.) 

The readings of the sagas themselves, then, are what I recommend, and each is brief and readable in a short sitting. They vary in details (and focus by their writers), and you can easily see the challenges they had in relating a valid history and developing a communal ethic vs merely relating a listenable tale. The saga, of course, had to accomplish all of these, so dividing fact from entertaining tale-telling is part of the challenge, though historical maps of the time also verify the events of the travel. 

Its unfortunate that more recent writers have both further verified the story and also added a new level of conspiracy-theory to the explorations, some suggesting that the Vikings reached as far as Minnesota (please please don't ask or give them an ear). 

Instead, then, if you come across this, read the sagas themselves, but before and afterwards, dig a bit into what we now know of their writing and veracity rather than read the outdated material here or sensationalized documentaries today!

First, this review is actually about Volumes 4-7 which track the entire Trepidation story cycle. I wanted to complete this series before completing the review. And this review is repeated on all four Volumes, 4-7.

I should say, too, that I generally like Tynion's works, especially his horror stuff, for its original conception and decent character design. So in some ways, I am comparing Something is Killing the Children to his darker DC stuff, The Woods, Nice House on the Lake, and The Department of Truth. 

I know that this series is routinely given great praise by critics and fans. Even so, my strengths and flaws from the first three volumes are here in these works with minor variations: largely, the stories are quite gory (and since many victims are children, not for the meek) and, unfortunately, this is the focus of the horror, kind of a one-trick pony. Because this is not wholly sustainable across the series, then, Tynion offers us the major sub-plot (really enhanced in this series) of a secret cabal of monster hunters and the amoral politics which drives it. Our hero, Erica, of course, sits apart from its corruption, which makes her a kind of horror-noir lone gunman for America monster-hunting. It's an interesting idea (especially since she is not emotionally whole, either).  Like King's Gunslinger series, a lot of the best action in Tynion mirrors the duller sequences of storytelling in King. And, like a decent George R R Martin, Tynion makes no promises which characters will survive any scene.  I should note, too, that the artwork by Dell'Edera and Muerto is startlingly good.

Overall, this storyline is more developed in the political intrigue, but often at the cost of the monster lore. Our most terrifying monster yet, especially in its last incarnation, is given precious few frames of development or interest. Mindless and ruthless, it appears in order to squash or be squashed. Tynion allows the artwork to carry this horror. So much for the monster-hunting. And this will explain why the entire Volume 7 is mostly given to action-based silent boss-battles. 

Even so, Tynion's best volume is probably the 4th, the "interim" series which looks back at Erica's backstory and initiation and helps us see the relationships she has built and will grow. We learn more, too, about the toy totems the hunters carry and some of the motivations between competing schools in the secret society. But . . . and this is a big but for me, a lot of it has all the import of learning why Han Solo has fuzzy dice on the Millennium Falcon.  Just because we can create back stories and answer plot-level questions about the "How-did-this-happen?" and "What-happens-to-character-x?" doesn't mean that we automatically have good story or good writing. At its base, and at its summit, the "Something is Killing" series is a solid horror-action story with visually fascinating characters.  And if that's all you're looking for--you don't want to ask questions about child death, about the nature of horror, or even the lore of psychological projection and daemon/demon guides, all within easy reach of the storyteller--you will be satisfied. 

First, this review is actually about Volumes 4-7 which track the entire Trepidation story cycle. I wanted to complete this series before completing the review. And this review is repeated on all four Volumes, 4-7.

I should say, too, that I generally like Tynion's works, especially his horror stuff, for its original conception and decent character design. So in some ways, I am comparing Something is Killing the Children to his darker DC stuff, The Woods, Nice House on the Lake, and The Department of Truth. 

I know that this series is routinely given great praise by critics and fans. Even so, my strengths and flaws from the first three volumes are here in these works with minor variations: largely, the stories are quite gory (and since many victims are children, not for the meek) and, unfortunately, this is the focus of the horror, kind of a one-trick pony. Because this is not wholly sustainable across the series, then, Tynion offers us the major sub-plot (really enhanced in this series) of a secret cabal of monster hunters and the amoral politics which drives it. Our hero, Erica, of course, sits apart from its corruption, which makes her a kind of horror-noir lone gunman for America monster-hunting. It's an interesting idea (especially since she is not emotionally whole, either).  Like King's Gunslinger series, a lot of the best action in Tynion mirrors the duller sequences of storytelling in King. And, like a decent George R R Martin, Tynion makes no promises which characters will survive any scene.  I should note, too, that the artwork by Dell'Edera and Muerto is startlingly good.

Overall, this storyline is more developed in the political intrigue, but often at the cost of the monster lore. Our most terrifying monster yet, especially in its last incarnation, is given precious few frames of development or interest. Mindless and ruthless, it appears in order to squash or be squashed. Tynion allows the artwork to carry this horror. So much for the monster-hunting. And this will explain why the entire Volume 7 is mostly given to action-based silent boss-battles. 

Even so, Tynion's best volume is probably the 4th, the "interim" series which looks back at Erica's backstory and initiation and helps us see the relationships she has built and will grow. We learn more, too, about the toy totems the hunters carry and some of the motivations between competing schools in the secret society. But . . . and this is a big but for me, a lot of it has all the import of learning why Han Solo has fuzzy dice on the Millennium Falcon.  Just because we can create back stories and answer plot-level questions about the "How-did-this-happen?" and "What-happens-to-character-x?" doesn't mean that we automatically have good story or good writing. At its base, and at its summit, the "Something is Killing" series is a solid horror-action story with visually fascinating characters.  And if that's all you're looking for--you don't want to ask questions about child death, about the nature of horror, or even the lore of psychological projection and daemon/demon guides, all within easy reach of the storyteller--you will be satisfied. 

First, this review is actually about Volumes 4-7 which track the entire Trepidation story cycle. I wanted to complete this series before completing the review. And this review is repeated on all four Volumes, 4-7.

I should say, too, that I generally like Tynion's works, especially his horror stuff, for its original conception and decent character design. So in some ways, I am comparing Something is Killing the Children to his darker DC stuff, The Woods, Nice House on the Lake, and The Department of Truth. 

I know that this series is routinely given great praise by critics and fans. Even so, my strengths and flaws from the first three volumes are here in these works with minor variations: largely, the stories are quite gory (and since many victims are children, not for the meek) and, unfortunately, this is the focus of the horror, kind of a one-trick pony. Because this is not wholly sustainable across the series, then, Tynion offers us the major sub-plot (really enhanced in this series) of a secret cabal of monster hunters and the amoral politics which drives it. Our hero, Erica, of course, sits apart from its corruption, which makes her a kind of horror-noir lone gunman for America monster-hunting. It's an interesting idea (especially since she is not emotionally whole, either).  Like King's Gunslinger series, a lot of the best action in Tynion mirrors the duller sequences of storytelling in King. And, like a decent George R R Martin, Tynion makes no promises which characters will survive any scene.  I should note, too, that the artwork by Dell'Edera and Muerto is startlingly good.

Overall, this storyline is more developed in the political intrigue, but often at the cost of the monster lore. Our most terrifying monster yet, especially in its last incarnation, is given precious few frames of development or interest. Mindless and ruthless, it appears in order to squash or be squashed. Tynion allows the artwork to carry this horror. So much for the monster-hunting. And this will explain why the entire Volume 7 is mostly given to action-based silent boss-battles. 

Even so, Tynion's best volume is probably the 4th, the "interim" series which looks back at Erica's backstory and initiation and helps us see the relationships she has built and will grow. We learn more, too, about the toy totems the hunters carry and some of the motivations between competing schools in the secret society. But . . . and this is a big but for me, a lot of it has all the import of learning why Han Solo has fuzzy dice on the Millennium Falcon.  Just because we can create back stories and answer plot-level questions about the "How-did-this-happen?" and "What-happens-to-character-x?" doesn't mean that we automatically have good story or good writing. At its base, and at its summit, the "Something is Killing" series is a solid horror-action story with visually fascinating characters.  And if that's all you're looking for--you don't want to ask questions about child death, about the nature of horror, or even the lore of psychological projection and daemon/demon guides, all within easy reach of the storyteller--you will be satisfied. 

First, this review is actually about Volumes 4-7 which track the entire Trepidation story cycle. I wanted to complete this series before completing the review. And this review is repeated on all four Volumes, 4-7. 

I should say, too, that I generally like Tynion's works, especially his horror stuff, for its original conception and decent character design. So in some ways, I am comparing <i>Something is Killing the Children</i> to his darker DC stuff, <i>The Woods, Nice House on the Lake, and The Department of Truth. </i>

I know that this series is routinely given great praise by critics and fans. Even so, my strengths and flaws from the first three volumes are here in these works with minor variations: largely, the stories are quite gory (and since many victims are children, not for the meek) and, unfortunately, this is the focus of the horror, kind of a one-trick pony. Because this is not wholly sustainable across the series, then, Tynion offers us the major sub-plot (really enhanced in this series) of a secret cabal of monster hunters and the amoral politics which drives it. Our hero, Erica, of course, sits apart from its corruption, which makes her a kind of horror-noir lone gunman for America monster-hunting. It's an interesting idea (especially since she is not emotionally whole, either).  Like King's Gunslinger series, a lot of the best action in Tynion mirrors the duller sequences of storytelling in King. And, like a decent George R R Martin, Tynion makes no promises which characters will survive any scene.  I should note, too, that the artwork by Dell'Edera and Muerto is startlingly good.

Overall, this storyline is more developed in the political intrigue, but often at the cost of the monster lore. Our most terrifying monster yet, especially in its last incarnation, is given precious few frames of development or interest. Mindless and ruthless, it appears in order to squash or be squashed. Tynion allows the artwork to carry this horror. So much for the monster-hunting. And this will explain why the entire Volume 7 is mostly given to action-based silent boss-battles. 

Even so, Tynion's best volume is probably the 4th, the "interim" series which looks back at Erica's backstory and initiation and helps us see the relationships she has built and will grow. We learn more, too, about the toy totems the hunters carry and some of the motivations between competing schools in the secret society. But . . . and this is a big but for me, a lot of it has all the import of learning why Han Solo has fuzzy dice on the Millennium Falcon.  Just because we can create back stories and answer plot-level questions about the "How-did-this-happen?" and "What-happens-to-character-x?" doesn't mean that we automatically have good story or good writing. At its base, and at its summit, the "Something is Killing" series is a solid horror-action story with visually fascinating characters.  And if that's all you're looking for--you don't want to ask questions about child death, about the nature of horror, or even the lore of psychological projection and daemon/demon guides, all within easy reach of the storyteller--you will be satisfied. 

Skim is a story of young women and misunderstanding, of challenges to compassion and walls against love, of the gulfs between death and alienation, of all of us stumbling ahead nonetheless. Insecurity is near the heart of Tamaki's characters who casually lash out and judge the behaviors of difference, but it is an insecurity nonetheless paired with longing. There is no clear path to love, and tentative overtures are as likely to be lost as tragically fulfilled.

While the stark black and white illustration work complements the bleakness of the story and the divisions between characters, I wondered at points whether greyer tones might better represent the quiet quests of these students against the public performative nonsense the mainstream offers.

Tamaki takes on the misunderstandings we have as people, not merely adolescents, around our discussions of suicide, of enmity, of community. And we must not expect pat or final answers to any of it; quite the opposite. We just keep moving forward as best we can.

I've never considered myself a fan of pastoral poetry, but Taylor has very nearly converted me in this brief collection.  Taking place across a single year of farmwork, Taylor offers sumptuous imagery of life and loss, mud and leaf, and the hands which work all of it. This alone would be beautiful reading, but what captured me is her difficult turning to the world without, the dangers to environment and the violence we wreak upon ourselves, the technology which alienates and our attention which fails.

Somehow, from poems "Apocalypto"-like to mere reveries on choice, Taylor's speaker returns again and again to the earth, this microcosm which reveals what we need, even while its experience is more and more difficult to find.

As much confession as manifesto, we are left wondering how anyone could do aught else but scrape the mud from our boots, pry apart a seedpod, caress the harvest, smile while the earth sleeps waiting. 

This novella, fairly fast-moving, has the hallmarks of Delany's experimental narrative structure: this time one which reflects the type of intelligence of its alien narrator, not contemporary human readers. It's difficult to remember that the sometimes jarring moments or unexplained details are relevant experiences related to that narrator (and to the story's close). As ever, trust the author to fulfill his promise to make the experience worthwhile!

And the close of the work does reveal a relevance unlooked for, yet before us all along. It's a clever "tying together" of threads, a "whoa" moment, but once accomplished, it loses its impact a bit, especially after the last 30 years of science fiction storytelling. Like any mystery novel, I was not convinced I had been given sufficient clues to anticipate or discover what was ahead, especially as to the nature of the title reference itself. As one character asks near the end of the book, "You mean you don't know what Empire Star is?"  Well, no, of course the character (nor we!) do! 

Nevertheless, the original premise of narrative structure paired against different types of intelligence levels (for instance, a kind of cat has a higher level intelligence than some humans, and understandably so!) is intriguing and a fairly bold statement about the nature of thinking. Species is not a determiner of intelligence: use of intelligence is its own measure. 

Short, fun, satisfying, and an author I must return to many more times.