Moby Dick

Somehow, I guess I was just blessed, I never read "Moby Dick" in high school.  And no, it's not because I skipped the assignment.  I was never assigned it as a book to read.  Having now read it (listened, actually) I can say in all honesty that I would have more than likely skipped the assignment in school.

Do not get me wrong, "Moby Dick" is phenomenal.  Exceptional.  Well, the narrative was.  The tale of revenge upon a beast by a bitter man was one of the best stories I've ever read.  It was suspenseful, deep and very metaphorical.  The religious allegories and allusions made it all even more interesting to me.  I didn't understand them all and would love to have the opportunity to read it again so I could get a better grasp on them all.

However, I will never read "Moby Dick" again.  Why?  Because Mellville needs to learn how to focus!  Yes, it's all about whales, but, frankly, I don't need to know every aspect of every whale in the oceans. I mean, there is a whole additional book about whale classification right in there!  Also, Ishmael tells a whole separate narrative about Moby Dick in the middle of the book.

If the book had fewer tangents and stuck to the tale it was trying to tell, I would have enjoyed it much more.  Alas, I lost most of my interest and all of my desire to try it again.

Pacific Rim Review

I have seen "Pacific Rim". 

Here is my capsule review: Big bada boom.

Here is the longer review: Dude, if you like big ass robots fighting big ass fishy, rocky monster thingies, then MAN is this movie for you!!!  So big!  So much crashing and banging and smashing and wow!

There was a kinda story-ish thing going on, too.

In this world, the giant monsters have been attacking the earth for a while so the people made giant robot mecha things in order to fight the giant monsters.  Unfortunately, the monsters just keep coming and each time they are bigger and stronger.  So, the people decide to try one last-ditched effort to destroy the monsters.

Some there are relationships built and destroyed.  People die.  People love.  You know how it is.

But NONE of that is important because there are giant robots fighting giant monsters and THAT is what you are paying for.

Some critics thought it was too loud.  I disagree.  I saw "Pacific Rim" in XD ginormousness with humungo sound and speakers and I thought it was ok.  Hell, "Dark Knight Rises" was louder (apparently Batman and Bane hit harder than an 80-foot tall robot).

Seriously, if you like a good summer blockbuster-type movie where you can just sit back and watch some cool robot fights, this is your thing.  If you like, the Japanese-style mecha shows, this is right up your alley, too.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane: A Review

Several years ago I read my first Neil Gaiman book.  It was a little story called "Stardust".  The movie was coming out and I thought it looked pretty cool so, seeing as it was based on a novel by a guy the comic book industry thought was akin to a god, I thought I'd read it before I saw it.

"Stardust" was, in no uncertain terms, breathtaking. Simply.  Right away, I was in awe of Gaiman's ability to put his fantasy world directly into our world and thus make it that much more accessible for his reader.  For Pete's sake, he gives you directions from London to the town of Wall (the town at the center of the plot) and to the gate in the wall that leads to Faerie (where the story takes place).  I had never read something like that before and it struck a strong chord in me, one that has kept me coming back ever since.

This ability to inundate reality with fantasy is on full display in Mr. Gaiman's new novel, "The Ocean a the End of the Lane".  The difference here is that this novel is firmly based in our very real world with all of it's brutality and heartbreak, and the fantasy serves as more of a support structure than the primary setting.

I have a tough time talking about "Ocean".  On the surface, it is a story about a childhood innocence and the conflict between a boy and his super-natural nanny, but in reality, there is so much more happening.  It's about relationships: between mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, children and adults, boys and girls, and (most importantly, in my opinion) fathers and sons.  The depth of these relationships are fathomless.  It's almost shocking how well developed each relationship is in the book when you consider how short the novel actually is (about 128 pages).

Despite the simple sounding description I gave above, the novel delves into some very adult, serious issues.  Gaiman dives into the topics of adultery, isolation, and abuse freely and demonstrates an ability to handle each subject honestly and brutally but with much respect so as not to be offensive when using graphic imagery.

"Ocean" is a short read, which is good, because there is a lot there and you will want to read it again to make sure you have it all.  I would recommend "The Ocean at the End of the Lane" to any fan of dark fantasy or anyone who has every felt alone, isolated, abused or unloved.  It will reassure you that you are not alone and that there are people out there who love you.

Holy Crap! A Post!

My wife asked me the other day, in not quite so few words, why I don't write any more.  I kinda stared at her in response.  

I had nothing.

High school came crashing back at me!  I was in Mr. Dziura's (lord knows if that's spelled right) class and he was asking me about "Snow Falling on Cedars", which I never opened (or brought home, for that matter). Embarrassment and confusion engulfed me and went slack jawed.

There was no good reason why I wasn't writing.  I had plenty of outlets and lots of notebooks, so what was my problem?

I'm lazy.  I need external motivation. But how could I get it?

Y-Reeka!  I had a plan: I' get back into writing my blog!

"Where's the motivation?" You ask?  Why, it's on Facebook!  I created a fan page for this here blog and invited some people (because I was only allowed to invite 41 of my 376 friends) to follow it.  That way, I would feel obligated to keep up with it.

So, here goes nothing!

The Dream

The tinge of dark creeps through the field
Turning the world deep violet
And the sky depths of blue unimaginable

Peepers sing in harmonies complex and high
Accompanied by cricket strings
Echoing from pond through the field

The bats feast upon the airborne pests
And the fireflies dance
Clinging to fragments of the sunset

Deep beats from night owl wings
Scare the skulking mouse
Giving the symphony rhythm

Her hand reaches out for my leg
A gentle breeze twists her hair
And the the world creeps to a hold

Her breath, cool upon my skin
Carries whispered oaths of love
Promises for nights to come

Her eyes in dark, deep like ocean waves
Breaking on the shores of the Cape
Soothing and inviting

C'Mon Now!

Are you serious? We are burning books? Serious?

A church in Florida has decided to commemorate 9/11 this year by burning copies of the Koran. They are trying to show radical extremist groups that they are not welcome or going to be tolerated anymore. Or something like that.

BUT they want to make it very clear that this isn't aimed at moderate Muslims because they're cool.

In this day and age, with all the tension between non-Muslim Americans and Muslim Americans, why would one think that burning religious text is okay? Does it matter that they say it's aimed at extremist groups? Would it be okay, then, for a synagogue to go out and burn a bunch of bibles because they think the KKK is evil? If they did, do you think that little church in Florida would take offense, or would they be all right with it?

Right about now, an "inter-faith" committee is meeting to discuss to growing acts of aggression toward Muslim Americans since the "World Trade Center Mosque" hubbub. Maybe they should bring in that Pastor from that little Florida church and tell him he needs to cool it. Things like book burnings are not going to help relationships here.

I've got an idea and you all can let me know what you think, but maybe burning books (like Nazis) is not the best way to commemorate 9/11. Perhaps we should celebrate the lives of those we lost and not instigate more hate in the world, or did we all forget, it was hate which cause 9/11 in the first place.


I now step down from my soap box. Thank you.

Sirens

She lay in bed staring at the craggy wasteland that was her ceiling. It was desolate and barren and it consumed her. It ate her thoughts and kept her awake, ever since she heard the sirens. The only sound she could hear was the blood pumping and pressing past her ear. It's rushing engulfed her senses, ever since she heard the sirens.

Since she heard the sirens, her mind was aflutter. Nothing could stick; each thought skipping cruelly across her mind harassing her. All since she heard the wail of the sirens.

She got up, unable to deal anymore. She strode down the hall as if being chased, desperate. She opened the door, quietly, so she could she her baby. Through the feasting gloom she saw a slight twinkle from her daughter's eyes: desperate for her mother's confidence. She sent a hollow smile through the expanse to her daughter who reciprocated in kind.

Silently she closed the door and turned to head back to her room. She couldn't move. She was frozen, crippled by fear. She knew where it was from. She could feel it in her stomach and her chest. She was absolutely certain, more confident than she had ever been about anything before. No doubt dwelt inside her.

She was certain tonight she became a widow. Ever since she heard the sirens.