A Good Grim Ride

Books recently read. Book the Second –

Jack Faust by Michael Swanwick. Lesson to be learned? The truth is neither freeing nor beautiful? Human beings are greedy awful creatures and always have been? There’s more profit to be had in war than in knowledge?

This is the third Swanwick novel I’ve read (Vacuum Flowers and The Iron Dragon’s Daughter were the others) and each book is enjoyable to me more for the ride of the story than its conclusion. In this one, Johan Faustus is offered the secrets of the universe by Mephistopholes so long as Faustus listens to what the demon says. And so Faustus ends up bringing 20th Century technology to the plague and superstition ridden 16th Century. Entertaining reading for those days when you can only see the bad side of humanity.

Not the First but One of the Worst

Books recently read. Book the first –

Depraved by Harold Schechter – the true story of H.H. Holmes, America’s first serial killer. So says the back cover blurb. It’s not true. That is, the story is true but Holmes is hardly America’s first serial killer despite his Ted Bundyish personality. America had a few multiple murderers prior to Holmes’ escapades.

I’m not a fan of true crime books. I prefer fictional horrors to the real stuff. A hundred years does give enough distance that I’ve found Holmes’s legend fascinating. It must be a sign of my own depravity and jadedness that I was disappointed with how few people Holmes seems to have actually killed. I’d first read about him in Bloodletters & Badmen by Jay Robert Nash. Prior to the Chicago World’s Fair in the 1900’s Holmes had built himself a “Murder Castle” with secret passages, acid baths, gassing chambers and other ammenities for the purpose of doing away with people and bodies. He himself confessed to the murder of 27 people. And perhaps he did kill that many. There’s no way to know. Holmes was a liar above all else. Some of the people he claimed to have killed turned out to be still living. Others he almost certainly murdered he insisted were still alive.

Depraved mainly details the insurance scam that finally proved his undoing. It’s a grisly enough tale but rather commonplace in comparison to the horrors that the Castle suggests.

A Problem Lacking

I don’t understand writer’s block. I’ve never had it.

What I do understand is being so annoyed with whatever I write (or draw or cook or say) that I don’t want it around to bother me.

And then I’m annoyed that I’m annoyed. And then I’m annoyed again because the whole process is so … normal and mundane.

That’s the worst of it. Normal and mundane.

When I get to that realization, at least I can laugh.

Doesn’t make any of the creative work up to that point look any better.

Shower Limbo

Bath night last night. For Skook that is. I bathe in the morning. Take a shower. Skook would trash our bathroom if he tried to use the shower. I doubt he’d manage to get wet in all the necessary areas either. The shower head only comes up to the bottom of his rib cage. I have the same problem with the shower at my Mom’s house but I can limbo around enough to compensate. Skook is far too wide for the same sort of twisting about in our shower stall. Taking a bath in that tub is even less of a possibility. His butt, his back, his everything is far too wide. There’d be no room for water in the tub.

There are plenty of places around town for a sasquatch to bathe. A lot of the time Skook heads over to the zoo and dunks himself in one of the moats. If he feels like stretching his legs a bit more he can use the reservoir over in the Roosevelt neighborhood. Some unsuspecting Seattlite’s hose will do in a pinch.

Last night, after watching the newest Angel and a tape of Tuesday’s Buffy, Skook, Nizzibet and I walked down to Golden Gardens. Skook uses the duck pond there for his bath. With all the rain of the last few day we had to be careful going down hill – the path is plain mud right now. We also took care to walk on Skook’s tracks. He doesn’t leave many but we like to be sure. There was little worry that we’d run into anyone. By ten o’clock on a wet Wednesday night most people in Ballard are in doors.

Nizzibet and I only got halfway before her leg started bothering her. The path is a fairly steep downhill all the way to beach. So going home is an uphill climb. Skook offered to carry her back home but she wanted to give the leg a workout. So Nizzibet and I trudged back up hill while Skook continued down. Without us along he avoided the path altogether. I’m always impressed by how quietly someone as big as he is can move.

Nizz and I got home and got to bed way too late. It’s taken me an hour and a half and two cups of coffee to get to my keyboard. If it wasn’t for Paliki’s insistence that she needed feeding I don’t know that I’d be up yet.

Broadcast Dreaming

Except for his nightly food forage Skook has stayed in the last few nights. It’s been raining. I don’t think the rain has been keeping him in. He doesn’t mind getting wet. He takes a bath every two or three days and that involves a thorough dunking.

Sunday night he stayed up and watched the Golden Globe Awards with Jaydogg. Nizzibet and I only caught some of the preshow interviews and then we went to bed. Jaydogg likes award shows. Someday I’ll have to ask him what the attraction is. I don’t see much point in seeing people I don’t know receive awards for work I usually haven’t seen and then give acceptance speeches thanking more people I don’t know. But that’s me. Most of the entertainment I enjoy doesn’t get mentioned on televised award shows.

Last night and Monday night Skook stayed up watching television. He can handle the remote all right. It’s sturdy enough that I don’t worry about him breaking it and the main buttons are large enough that he can work them without trouble. I’ve shown him how to use the VCR and the DVD player but I’ve never seen him use them.

He doesn’t watch television for the story. At least not for the story that’s being broadcast. He gets lost in commercials and scene cuts, close-ups, slow motion, special effects, music and all the trappings that we human people take for granted. It’s not that he finds it confusing. It all makes perfect sense to him. He’s watching human dreamings.

I occasionally watch one of the foreign language channels. I only have a general idea of what’s going on. This character is mad at that character. These characters are probably doing something that’s supposed to be funny. Based on the costumes these characters are acting in a historical drama. These are commercials. I like it because I don’t get bogged down in whether or not the dialogue is well written or the acting is good or the cinematography is beautiful. The foreignness of the language and culture allows me to people watch, to examine humans from the outside.

When Skook and I talk neither of us is behaving “naturally”. I’m making allowance s for his understanding and expression and limitations and he makes allowances for mine. I don’t know what sasquatch to sasquatch interaction would look like. I’ve never seen it. He gets to watch human interaction by watching television. It doesn’t matter that most of the programs are in English. He doesn’t speak English. He and I speak Sasglish. He hears a familiar word or two come from the television but it comes out of context, unaccompanied by the expression and body language that he’s learned to recognize. So he might as well be watching TV Bangkok.

I’ve tried explaining the entertainment industry and what happens in order to make the programs he’s watching. I’ve explained commercials and their role in American society. Ultimately he doesn’t seem to care. He knows television isn’t reality. It’s a box that emits light and moving pictures. He watches infomercials, talking heads and AMC with the equal fascination. He doesn’t channel surf much. Not much point when everything is the equivalent of the Nature Channel.

Sometimes he falls asleep in front of the TV. I found him this morning slumped in front of the striped couch with the remote still in his hand. Lost in sasquatch dreamings.

Other Branches

The Return review was supposed to post yesterday. Unfortunately there seems to be some incompatibilities between Blogger and the version of AOL that I’m using. So until that gets resolved I’ll be only posting Monday through Friday. I’ll still be writing posts on the weekend. Got that must-write-a-post-every-day commitment to stick to.

Orphan of Creation

Roger MacBride Allen

© 1988

Published by Baen Books

The blurb says –

On the day after tomorrow, on a backwoods farm in Mississippi, a paleontologist unearths the bones of a creature that could never have lived in that time or place. The incredible find brings its discoverers to the deepest forests of western Africa, and face to face with a miracle older than man.

Featured MAH –

Remnant Australopithecus

The book opens with a quote from Mismeasure of Man by Stephen J. Gould –

Suppose … that one or several species of our ancestral genus Australopithecus had survived – a perfectly reasonable scenario in theory … We – that is Homo Sapiens – would have faced all the moral dilemma involved in treating a human species of distinctly inferior mental capacity. What would we have done with them – slavery? extirpation? coexistence? menial labor? reservations? zoos?

Given that Homo Sapiens has indeed done all of the above to other members of its own species it wouldn’t be surprising if we were to do the same or worse to a hominid cousin.

Our protagonist, Dr. Barbara Marchando, discovers the journal of her great-great-grandfather, Zebulon Jones, in the attic of the family home. Jones had been a slave who escaped his bondage in Mississippi, made his fortune in the North and come back to buy his former master’s plantation during the Reconstruction. The journal describes an incident during Jones’ slave days when his master, Colonel Gowrie, brought a new breed of Slave to the plantation. The new Slave was a creature that was humanlike but obviously not human and therefore would have been legal to import. The creatures make poor slaves and soon die. When Gowrie attempts to have the creatures buried in the Slave cemetery, his slaves refuse and the creatures are buried at a crossroads on the property instead.

Marchando thinks that she has discovered record of the importation of gorillas or chimps as slaves and sets out to discover the graves. Her search and excavation is part of what has me love this book. Unlike the scientists in so much fiction who have wild ridiculous theories, who dash around like brain damaged Indian Joneses and who excavate their digs with no regard to scientific procedure or documentation, Dr. Marchando is careful and methodical and makes sure to record every step of her investigation. She wants to be sure that whatever evidence she uncovers is irrefutable. Allen makes the slow uncovering of the graves suspenseful by making the process itself interesting.

So when she discovers Australopithecus bones in Mississippi soil she’s understandably shocked and confused. The discovery leads to an expedition to Africa with the possibility of finding living examples of the creature. If Australopithecus had survived into the Nineteenth century, perhaps it lived still.

Orphan of Creation is a good solid book. If I were to recommend a book I’d certainly recommend this one.

One from the Bigfoot Bookshelf

Book review here today. Over the years I’ve collected fiction featuring sasquatch, yeti and other MAH. I’m always on the lookout for more. With the proliferation of small press and self-publishers there are more Bigfoot novels out there than ever.

Occasionally I’ll review one of the books in my collection. Eventually I’ll put all the reviews together on their own website. Because the world needs a Bigfoot novel review website. It must. I’ve been looking for one for years and I haven’t found one yet. And like so many others who have built websites dedicated to subject matter of limited interest I’ll build the Bigfoot Bookshelf because no one else has.

The Return

Bentley Little

© 2002

Published by Signet (New American Library, a division of Penguin Putnam)

The blurb says –

Springerville is famous for the legend of the Mogollon Monster. Of course nobody really believes it. It’s just a good campfire story, something to attract gullible tourist – until an excavation team unearths the figure of a screaming woman, the jawbone of a deformed animal and a child’s toy. How odd that they were buried together. Odd, too is the foul odor lingering in the air, the strange noises at night, and the man’s face found hanging from a tree. Now the locals are locking their doors. Because after sundown, campfire stories can seem very, very real.

Featured MAH –

Ancient Evil Demon Thing

Stephen King equated reading to telepathy. Read a book, read someone’s mind. Read everything someone has written and get someone’s worldview. Most authors revisit the same few subjects and themes throughout their writing life.

I figure that any review I read is a window into someone’s mind. A review is only partly about the book (painting, movie, restaurant, club, you-name-it) and mostly about the reviewer. It’s about the reviewer’s interests and prejudices and the style and flair that he/she/it expresses them. I rarely trust a reviewer’s opinion the first time around. The world is full of people whose interests and obsessions don’t overlap mine. People who happily express their opinions as if they mean something. People who don’t seem to stop and wonder where that opinion came from.

I’m cheerfully self involved. It’s the sort of self obsession that leads me to look at my thoughts and opinions and ask, “Where the hell did that come from?” This book is a great example. Somewhere around page 60 I found myself thinking, “This is silly.”

It’s not the genre. I do most of my reading in the Weird Fiction niche.

This isn’t the first Bentley Little novel I’ve read. That was The Revelation. That featured a Chinese vampire terrorizing a Southwestern town. I thought it was a fun read and I enjoyed Little’s style enough that I’ve been interested in seeing what else he’d written. I certainly don’t remember thinking, “This is silly” during the course of reading it. Little’s style is matter of fact, whether describing a museum visit or a demonic possession. Certainly ancient Anasazi-killing monsters are no sillier than Chinese vampires.

So what was it?

The Nutty Science.

Al Wittinghill, the anthropologist overseeing a dig of Anasazi remains, espouses Nutty Science. He has the theory that the Anasazi disappeared because some sort of creature made them go away. It’s not the theory that’s so ridiculous it’s that Al seems to have arrived at this theory completely without evidence. And I have an expectation that scientists should base their theories on some kind of verifiable fact. Grover Krantz believed in Sasquatch because the evidence told him that it was real. Von Daniken backs up his ancient astronaut theories with evidence. (I think Von Daniken is a crackpot and his evidence is shaky and misinterpreted but that beside the point here.) Never mind that Al turns out to be right and a demon/monster/god did wipe out the Anasazi and is now trying to wipe out the Southwestern United States. His belief comes before any fact. And that’s Nutty Science.

When I run into Nutty Science in a book I stop taking the book seriously. I take science and the scientific method seriously. If Al had been a shaman or a visionary or an amateur crackpot dabbling in archeology I’d have found it easier to tolerate him.

The Return gets sillier.

The plot? Ancient evil is awakened, death, destruction and hilarity ensue. More specifically – a man in the midst of a mid-life crisis signs up to work on an archeological dig and becomes caught up in a supernatural apocalypse. Ancient shards of pottery depict modern, recognizable people and places. Ancient artifacts come to live and kill people. Deformed skulls and hideous mummies exert an evil influence on the people around them driving the people to torture and murder their friends and neighbors. Those few people who seem to be immune to the Evil’s influence must band together to destroy the Evil.

I found The Return on the book racks at the QFC. It had That Feel about it. That Feel that says there’s a Bigfoot in this book. That Feeling is never wrong. The cover and the back cover blurb give it away. Trust me. Read enough of the novels I list here and you’ll start to have That Feeling too. The Bigfoot here is the Mogollon Monster. The creature is equated with Bigfoot despite the Arizona setting. In this story, though, Bigfoot is a red herring. Our monster, our villain, is some sort of immortal demon that has periodically awoken to destroy human civilizations.

Beyond the Nutty Science there are scenes that would be terrifying if they were to actually occur but are absurd to visualize. Anasazi artifacts waltz out of the museum in which they are being kept. (Just picture a bunch of arrow heads and pottery and stone tools banging themselves out of their glass cases and shuffling down the hall.) A man gets killed by a giant, animated mortar and pestle. Our monster has a big poofy orange afro. I’d definitely be scared if I saw inanimate objects come after me with murderous intent and I’d find an evil inhuman mummy creepy regardless of its hair style but these are “you had to be there” sorts of things. Reading about the event s in Little’s dry style had me laughing.

So am I recommending The Return?

I’ll cheerfully dodge that question. These reviews aren’t going to be about whether or not I think you should read a book. They’re to tell you about books that you might not know are out there and if they sound interesting you can give them a read yourself.

Much Bigger Than a Bread Box

How does one hide a sasquatch?

We’ve got a bunch of folks coming over for brunch this morning. None of them know about Skook. I’d rather none of them did. They’re all nice people. It’s just that secrets are more easily kept secret when few people know them.

I could ask him to sleep in the garage today. I doubt that he’d care. Unfortunately we’ve filled up the garage since he moved out of it. There’s not a lot of room for him in there anymore. I’ve seen him slip into some tight places, places it’s hard to imagine a seven foot tall anything fitting in, but even so, the garage is too full.

So I’ll get out the tarp and cover him up. Maybe I can convince Paliki to sleep on top of him and make him look more like furniture. There’s not much to worry over really. None of our guests is likely to go downstairs unless we invite them. He’ll sleep through all the noise we make. If we have leftovers I’ll just give them to him when he wakes up.

That’s one of the best things about having Skook around. I never feel like food goes to waste. He makes the extra disappear in seconds. He should have a good variety today. Nizzibet is making Apple Raisin French Toast and I making a big scrambled egg thing. Most everyone who coming will be bringing something to share and leaving the uneaten bits behind. I’ll just toss it all in a bowl and he’ll snack on it before he heads out tonight.

Summer Ghost Walking

Color it summer. It isn’t hot but it’s certainly not winter weather.

We had a gorgeous full moon last night. After Farscape Skook, Nizzibet and I went for a walk. We stuck to the alleys that run through all the blocks in this neighborhood. When Nizzibet’s leg finally gave out Skook gave her a shoulder ride. That meant her head was something like ten feet up in the air.

I can imagine some poor soul, sitting on his back porch trading swigs from a beer and puffs from a cigarette, looking over his back fence and seeing a white laughing face floating through the darkness. It’s one thing to call the cops and say you’ve seen sasquatch. It’s another to say you’ve seen a ghost. I wonder which one would have people think you were crazier?

I passed on a ride myself. It would be too much of a reminder of how much bigger than me Skook is. Animals that are significantly bigger than I am make me nervous. I can’t see myself riding horses, much less an elephant. And big strange humans give me an unsettled feeling no matter how friendly they are. I suspect that there is some jealous involved. I’m taller than most humans and back in my reptile brain I don’t appreciate anyone looking down on me.

Scriptwriting got postponed another week. PresiD and Mr. Charisma are still working on contract details. So ScarletBlue came over to take our give aways to Deseret Industries and we ended up going shopping – Costco (cause who can say no to food in bulk) & Value Village. (ScarletBlue acted as Nizzibet’s fashion consultant and I poked through the used books).

Nizzibet and I will be jamming on story ideas once I get this posted. We’ll grab some coffee and sit in the sun and natter at each other. A good way to end a day.

Difference Engines

It’s always at first I feel inferior. Stupid. OK. That’s the way my brain works.

Hmmm.

I always feel superior first. Like I know what I’m talking about. Or if I don’t know what I’m talking about it doesn’t occur to me that I’m wrong. I’m always right. Correct. My way to live is the way. It’s only when the intellect kicks in that I’m willing to consider another side.

Most of the time intellect kicks in before emotion gets me started acting. It didn’t used to be that way. Emotion often spoke before intellect. My life is a lot easier these days. I’ve got fewer reasons to apologize to other people. I think I listen to and empathize with others better. Since I’m predisposed to think I’m right I’m probably not as much better as I think I am.

That’s the way my brain seems to work.