Monday, October 23, 2017

Reviewing the Mail: Week of 10/21

Welcome back.

Every week, I list whatever new books I've seen, from publicity, purchase or (some word meaning "library" that begins with a p). Sometimes there are many, sometimes none.

This week, there's one: Steal the Stars, a novel by Nat Cassidy based on the dramatic podcast of the same name written by Mac Rogers. (Which descriptor makes me think about whether "drama" or the medium is usually the noun -- see TV drama but also dramatic presentation. Hmm. Dramatic play? Dramatic opera? Dramatic tweetstorm? On balance, I think that's probably the best way to describe the form.)

Steal the Stars is being published by Tor as a trade paperback on November 7th. Regular Tor, I think, not or Tor Labs or the other exotic varieties, though the podcast came from Tor Labs and Gideon Media (in, obviously, a different form than a paperback book).

It's described as "noir science fiction," and seems to be one of the many grandchildren of X-Files: there's a crash-landed alien (gray skin, big head, probably a penchant for anal probing -- the whole shebang) held secretly in a US military base, and two of the people guarding it decide they'd have more opportunity to fuck each other and get rich if they stole the alien and ran off. So they do, apparently.

I am typically not your biggest fan of brand extensions into other media, and I am also old and grumpy, so this sounds like another eruption from the woo-woo conspiracy-theory side of SF. So I will not claim I am going to leap right onto this book and clasp it to my bosom. But it has nice quotes from people I respect, like Paul Cornell and Max Gladstone, so that's probably just me. I bet you will love it.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

The Story of the Lincoln County War by Rick Geary

I almost wish I'd held onto Louis Riel and reviewed that together with Rick Geary's The Story of the Lincoln County War: both are stories in comics about 19th century rebellions, mostly for good reasons against corrupt and nasty rulers, that ended with the destruction of the rebellion and the loss of its cause. Louis Riel was a Canadian, and his story had a racial element that eventually turned that story into one of the important lessons of that nation.

Rick Geary, though, has a more sordid story to tell: one motivated by greed and lust for power on one side, and a slightly purer desire to make a living (or, maybe, to push out the old cabal and supplant it with a new corrupt cabal, in someone's wildest dreams) on the other. The place is Lincoln County, New Mexico, in the late 1870s -- a huge expanse of mostly empty land, with ranchers, farmers, and a few townspeople. The current cabal extends all the way up to the territorial governor, and is anchored by the shopkeeper/merchant to the local fort. (He has an admirably compact supply chain, with hired rustlers stealing local cattle for him to sell as beef to that fort, plus a near-monopoly on most staples and the kind of predatory credit that soon afterward gave rise to the company town.)

On the other side is a new shop-owner, trying to get into the business, and a local lawyer who used to work for the cabal and either was kicked out or smartened up. Eventually, it turns to violence, because it always does.

This is "war" in the local-history sense; at no time is there a pitched battle or real tactics, though an army detachment does get into the fray at one point, with the expected results. The fighters in this "war" are close to the conventional idea of cowboys: well-armed young men in bands riding around a semi-barren landscape and shooting at each other. And, since one side of this "war" does have control of the local government, meaning both the apparatus of the law and the assistance of that army detachment, the outcome is not really in doubt.

Over a long period of time, they say, the arc of humanity does bend towards justice. But any story about individual people doesn't have that luxury of time, and this arc was bent in an entirely different direction. The best thing you can say about this "war" is that it was short and, as far as Geary tell us, didn't claim any civilians. It did spawn a few outlaws, most notably someone Geary here calls by his "real" name, William Bonney. (And so this book is something of a prequel to Geary's The True Death of Billy the Kid from a couple of years ago. Like that book, The Story of the Lincoln County War was funded through Kickstarter. It's not yet on Geary's web store, but that would be the most likely place to find it.)

This is Geary in his usual mature sombre-historical mode, not the madcap Geary of his early career. (Though that wild-hair Geary still does make occasional appearances, once in a while.) As always, he's very good at 19th century faces, at physical spaces from maps to rooms to dusty streets, and at explaining complicated, violent, nasty bits of history to a modern audience. Again, this was a Kickstarter project, presumably because it was considered to have less wide of an appeal than Geary's usual books about historical murders. But this is an interesting bit of unpleasant history -- another tale of capitalism run riot and corrupt, in case we need one more in these fallen days -- told well by a master of comics. If you can find it, it's worth it.

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Conan: Book of Thoth by Busiek, Wein & Jones

We really don't need any more origin stories. OK, maybe if it's integrated -- a quick flashback during something else -- it's not so bad. But, please, not a whole story just to show us how the guy we already know got to the place we've seen him. Boooo-ring.

Writers Kurt Busiek and Len Wein (along with artist Kelley Jones) work hard to keep Conan: Book of Thoth out of the Boring Zone, but I'm afraid it's a losing battle.

A) this is an origin story, and (even worse) one of a villain, so it's all cackling laughter and evil triumphing.

Two) this is a Conan story in which Conan can't appear at all, so we just get a couple hundred pages of neo-Howardian pre-historical squalor and woe.

Thoth-Amon is a major Conan villain -- one of the few who doesn't show up and get his head chopped off in the space of a short story, I mean, which is what "major Conan villain" means. And so, round about 2005, he got a comic-book series to explain Who He Is and How He Got That Way. And, well, it turns out he was a nasty street kid -- battered by his father, to make it even more tedious and psychological -- in some random Hyperborian Age city, who did various nasty things for four long issues to end up as High Priest of Set and secret ruler of an entire nation.


Book of Thoth is pretty much all one tone -- slightly detached tsk-tsking at how horrible this guy named variously Thoth, Amon, and Thoth-Amon is, while still being excited at each new bit of nastiness. It's really only for huge Conan fans, and I have no clear idea why it was on my shelf. (My best theory is that it came in one of the care packages of comics I got after my flood in 2011.) And it is one more signpost to show that we really don't need more origin stories.

(By the way, I don't know if Mssrs. Busiek, Wein and Jones knew this at the time, but if you google "Book of Thoth," you get a whole lot of what are technically called "woo-woo" books about Atlanteans and energy beings and a tiny little bit of Egyptiana. Sometimes the obvious title makes your project hard to find.) 

Monday, October 09, 2017

Reviewing the Mail: Week of 10/7

Some weeks I buy a lot of books. Some weeks I get a bunch in the mail. Either one is frankly wonderful.

Some weeks I just turn around, look at everything sitting on my unread shelves (three big bookcases, quite a bit of it double-shelved, down here in my blogger's basement) and try to estimate how long it will take to read through all of it at my current speed.

(And sometimes I look at those shelves and think about the plan to move some things around that's been in the back of my head for at least three months now. Still hasn't happened.)

The point is: I've got plenty of books. And that's not even counting my access to two big library systems. I have way too much to read at any given moment, and the only real problem is the eternal question of which book to read next. (The more books you have, the harder that question is.)

This week there's nothing new to write about. So I get a brief second of thinking I'm keeping ahead of the rising tide. Next week might well be different.....

Wednesday, October 04, 2017

Louis Riel by Chester Brown

The great thing about history is that it never stops being history. It might technically get older, but, realistically, a hundred years is the same as a hundred and twenty. Old is old, dead is dead.

So I can read the tenth anniversary edition of a book four years later without feeling any guilt, because the guy it's about has been dead since 1885 anyway. He's not doing anything new in the meantime.

I am, of course talking about Chester Brown's historical graphical comic-book thing Louis Riel, one of the works that most deforms the common usage of the term "graphic novel." (So I'm avoiding using it directly.) Brown himself is one of those quirky Canadian oddballs that comics seems to throw off regularly -- not quite as monomaniacal and misogynistic as Dave Sim, definitely further down the spectrum than seems-to-mostly-just-be-eccentric Seth, and probably about equal with world-class work-avoider Joe Matt -- with his own very defined passions and crankish ideas that mostly stay out of this primarily fact-based book. (Riel did claim to have direct knowledge of the divine, which could easily have been one of the things that attracted Brown to his story -- but that's material that was already there waiting for him. And women are almost entirely absent from this story of 19th century politics and war, whether because of Brown's views or because any contributions they made were quiet at the time and ignored thereafter.)

I can't speak from any personal knowledge of Riel's story, or any previous scholarship. My sense is that Brown followed the generally accepted scholarly consensus at the time, and that his telling is as "true" as any book of history: it's what most experts think happened, in broad outlines, even if some of them probably argue violently with each other about individual details. And that is the old sad story of distant elites of one ethnicity scheming to disenfranchise (or worse) a minority they don't like within a burgeoning territory they control.

In this case, it's the English-descended government of Canada, mostly in the person of Prime Minister Sir John A. Macdonald, planning how best to cut up and use a vast section of the mid-continent prairies and deliberately alienating, damaging, and snubbing the locals, particularly the population of mixed French-native background called Metis. (That area eventually became the province of Manitoba, if that helps place it in space and time.)

The Metis people were not happy with this, of course. "No taxation without representation" is only one specific expression of an age-old problem: those people over there, with all the power and most of the guns, are telling us to do things we don't think they should have any say in. The Metis fought back, and Louis Riel is the man who became their leader -- it seems, from Brown's telling, that was because he was right there when the first clash happened on Metis land, and because he spoke English well enough to be a go-between. And he was strong-willed and charismatic to stay in that role. Brown presents him as the leader of his people, and doesn't get into any power struggles that might have happened within the Metis community, even as we suspect they must have happened.

Riel eventually led two different rebellions against the government of Canada. As Brown tells it, he was goaded and guided into doing so by Macdonald and others, who knew they would win militarily and preferred the simplicity of bullets to the messiness of actually doing their political jobs of compromising and allowing all voices to be heard. It's a sad, sordid story, basically a tragedy: Riel was unstable and mentally ill (that supposed direct connection with the divine), which possibly kept him from finding a better solution for his people. Or maybe they were doomed from the beginning, since the other side had the government, the railroad, most of the guns, more money, and their own racism to convince themselves they were firmly in the right.

Brown tells the story well, focusing on Riel's life and actions and using a clean six-panel grid -- he gets out of the way of his story almost entirely. This looks like a Chester Brown story, since his art is distinctive, but it reads like compelling reality, without the surrealistic breaks and self-obsessions of his earlier works. There's a reason this has become a Canadian classic; it tells an important story well. This edition includes an extensive collection of sources and notes, plus a section at the back with sketches, original comics covers and other related stuff. To maximize the scholarly heft, there's an essay by an academic to close the whole thing out. But most readers won't bother with that anyway. The book itself is enough: it tells a story we've seen many times before, but need to be reminded of regularly.

Tuesday, October 03, 2017

Mind MGMT, Vol. 2: The Futurist by Matt Kindt

Sometimes I read too slowly. I got to the first volume of Matt Kindt's Mind MGMT series back in 2014 -- already late, since it's a six-book series that ran and was collected 2012-15 -- and have had the second one on my shelf most of the days since then. At this rate, I calculate, I'll get through the whole series by 2029.

Well, maybe I can speed up -- only take two years between some of the books -- and save a little time.

In any case, here's the second one: Mind MGMT, Vol. 2: The Futurist. There is one shocking surprise near the end of this volume that anyone who's read comics anytime in the past fifty years will have seen coming miles away, but otherwise it's the same heady, intriguing mix of paranoia, Phildickian reality-twisting, and secret-society intrigue as the first book. The story is opening out here, and we learn more about Mind Management and its agents, though still, oddly, it's never 100% clear that this was an actual government agency run by the USA or not.

The core is still Maru, true-crime writer on the trail of the biggest story of her life, and Harry Lyme, the most powerful agent (according to him) of the now-defunct Mind Management agency, which changed minds and people and politics all around the world for decades through super-secret methods. (Basically psionics, without ever actually using the term -- all various kinds of mind powers.)

There's not much more I can say about this book without either spoiling the first book or repeating what I already wrote about that book. So let me just say that Kindt is probably the best creator in comics on spycraft, dark mysteries, and dangerous secrets -- and I find his spiky, watercolor-washed, slightly rough-looking art to be a perfect match for his writing. (Some people find his art too far from the slick superhero norm: those people are called Philistines.)

The series is done now: I can't promise it's all this good, since (as I said) I haven't read it all yet. But it does start very strong, and Kindt's work hasn't disappointed yet.

Monday, October 02, 2017

Reviewing the Mail: Week of 9/30

The end of September saw a cold snap in my neck of the woods, as if Nature said "well, right, that's Summer thoroughly done for now." There's currently a chill breeze coming in through the small window in my blogger's basement, making me think seriously about actually closing that window. But it's supposed to warm up a bit again this week -- Nature is deeply fickle -- so I think I can stand it until then.

Things change every week, with new ideas and sights -- and among the most pleasant changes are new books being published. This week, I've got two new hardcovers from Tor to lay out before your amazed eyes.

I'll start with Children of the Fleet, a new "Ender" novel by Orson Scott Card, hitting stores on October 10th. I'm not as plugged-in to this series as some other people, but I believe this is set in the gap between Ender's Game and Speaker for the Dead, and is about yet another super-smart kid who wants to go to the super-awesome Fleet School to learn to massacre evil alien Buggers. (No, wait. The Buggers are all dead at this point, right? So who are all the Earth kids learning to massacre at this point?) This kid is Dabeet Ochoa, and he has an unknown father, which I'm sure will never become a plot point. The title page has the subtitle "Fleet School," which I have a lurking suspicion means this may become a series -- either with more books about Dabeet, or a number of books about different students at the school. Time will tell.

The other book is War and Craft by Tom Doyle, the third in the American Craftsman series. It's modern military fantasy secret history, about the super-classified magical Spec Ops types who keep the world safe for democracy by killing a lot of bad guys in entertaining ways and doing the rest of that MilSF stuff. This one seems to be the climax of the series, and is mostly set in India, because what good are American special forces types if they're not wreaking havoc in foreign countries? War and Craft hit stores on September 26; you should be able to find it everywhere now. If the idea sounds interesting, though, you probably want to start with the first book, American Craftsmen.