Happy first-week-of-school, suckers.
And here are a few more fun education-based bits from throughout Calvin & Hobbes history.
Thom Dunn is a Boston-based writer, musician, and utterly terrible dancer. He is the singer/guitarist for the indie rock/power-pop the Roland High Life, as well as a staff writer for the New York Times’ Wirecutter and a regular contributor at BoingBoing.net. Thom enjoys Oxford commas, metaphysics, and romantic clichés (especially when they involve whiskey), and he firmly believes that Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" is the single greatest atrocity committed against mankind. He is a graduate of Clarion Writer's Workshop at UCSD ('13) & Emerson College ('08).
Happy first-week-of-school, suckers.
And here are a few more fun education-based bits from throughout Calvin & Hobbes history.
Today is officially "Batman Day," commemorating the 75th anniversary of the Dark Knight's first appearance in Detective Comics #27 (cover date May 1939, though it was technically released on March 30 of that same year, because comics). It also marks the 75th anniversary of Bob Kane receiving sole creative credit for the Caped Crusader, despite the much more significant contributions of a man named Bill Finger, who continues to be royally screwed by DC Entertainment despite being dead for 40 years and counting.
Read MoreMarvel Studios has gotten into this habit of releasing "character posters" in the lead-up to the release of a new film. Each poster highlights a specific character in the movie, to familiarize them to the general public, and to excite and titillate the fanboys like me who eat up every single bit of promotional material like our lives depend on it. However, there's been something about these last two batches of character posters that have really bothered me — specifically, the airbrush jobs on Scarlett Johannson's Black Widow for Captain America: The Winter Solder and Karen Gillan's Nebula in Guardians of the Galaxy.
See, ScarJo and Karen Gillan are already both incredibly attractive individuals. They both make my list of Five Celebrities That You're Allowed To Have An Affair With And It Totally Doesn't Count As Cheating, which is a list that everyone in a relationship is encouraged to have, according to my fiancé (Emma Stone is also on my list and no I don't have a thing for redheads what are you talking about). But for all of the work that Marvel has tried to do in promoting women, diversity, and equality, these posters make the women like, well, comic book characters. And what's worse, I actually noticed the difference (and not in like a creepy way where I have their figures memorized in my mind).
Let's have a look, shall we?
Read MoreThis is one of those things that's both awesome and awful because it's so damn disturbing but so, so cool. "Daymares" is a photography collection by a New York-based photographer named Arthur Tress. Originally displayed (hung? gallery'd? what's the verb here?) back in 1972, "Daymares" featured staged re-creations of children's nightmares, as described to the photographer by the children themselves. The result is a collection of some of the best horror-movies-as-still-photography that I have ever seen. It's like the real-life version of the Miss Peregrine / Hollow City series, only 8,000 times creepier. From his original Artist Statement:
DAYMARES is a series of photographs that attempts to interpret the dreams and fantasies of young children through the medium of documentary photography. Dreams or nightmares were collected by conversations with children in schools, streets, or neighbourhood playgrounds. The children would be asked means of acting out their visions or to suggest ways of making them into visual actualities. Often the location itself, such as an automobile graveyard or abandoned merry-go-round, would provide the possibility of dreamlike themes and spontaneous improvisation to the photographer and his subjects. In recreating these fantasies there is often a combination of actual dream, mythical archetypes, fairytale, horror movie, comic hook, and imaginative play. These inventions often reflect the child's inner life, his hopes and fears, as well as his symbolic transmutation of the external environment, his home or school, into manageable forms (...)
The purpose of these dream photographs is to show how the child's creative imagination is constantly transforming his existence into magical symbols for unexpressed states of feeling or being. In fact, we are all always interchanging or translating our daily perceptions of reality into the enchanted sphere of the dream world.
Emphasis added, because I love it. And I swear, this is not just my clever scheme to trick you into reading one of my stories or something (although dammit that'd be a great story idea...OOOH fiction brain working now....).
You can check out some of Tress's eerie images below, or you can buy a coffee table book of the entire photography series, in case you're the kind of person who enjoys scaring the living hell out of your house guests. Personally, I just wish that I could read the kids' original descriptions of their dreams...
Then again, maybe I'm better off.
Reading, man. That stuff'll mess you up.
The fine folks at Quirk Books have just released Stuff Every Geek Should Know, the latest in their ongoing sampler series of free eBooks. These samplers often feature snippets from Quirk's other offerings, along with fun little teasers and games, but Stuff Every Geek Should Know is chock-full of brand new content from writers including Eric Smith, Kyle Cassidy, E.C. Myers, and, oh yeah, me! I've had comic books and scripts published, and plenty of non-fiction, but this is technically my first eBook from a real official fancy publisher. Here's the official blurb from Quirk:
Packed with tips, articles, and how-tos on everything from performing Jedi mind tricks to creating your own cosplay gear to wooing the geek of your dreams, Stuff Every Geek Should Know is an indispensable guide to life, the universe, and everything geeky. Featuring content from Quirk's nerdiest titles plus all-new, never-before-seen good stuff from the geekiest bloggers in the known universe. Chapters include:
GEEK SKILLS FROM POP CULTURE: How to survive a haunted house, perform the Vulcan nerve pinch, decode ciphers, and master other survival skills.
GEEKS IN ACTION: How to make amazing YouTube vids, create comic books, handle yourself in an online multiplayer game, and generally get your geek on.
THE GEEK GATHERING: How to have the best convention experience of your life.
GEEK LOVE: How to craft an online dating profile, plan a geeky marriage proposal, pass on geek wisdom to your kids, and otherwise enjoy the human emotion of "love."
You can download the book on Scribd, Amazon, Nook, Kobo, or iBooks, for all your e-reading pleasure — and tell your friends to do the same!
In Transhuman, writer Jonathan Hickman uses JM Ringuet's gorgeous artwork to tell an original story about the rise of Transhumanism as a corporate pissing match, and it embodies everything that is wrong with Hickman as a writer.
Don't get me wrong, Hickman is incredibly creative and kind of a mad genius — he's just a terrible storyteller. I've come to accept this fact. Transhuman is told as a "documentary" about the rise of the 3 largest Transhumanist corporations, which I guess is a clever conceit, except (1) why make a fictional documentary as a graphic novel? Why not, ya know, write a screenplay? and (2) the nature of those 60 Minutes-style factual reporting documentary is, by nature, a summary, and therefore not a story. The story is told through interviews with a narrator and the people involved in the story, but they are literally just TELLING the reader what happened. It's almost remarkable that a graphic novel — a medium which is visual by nature — could rely so much on telling and not showing, and therefore breaks one of the cardinal rules of fiction writing.
Sure, there are some interesting characters, and probably some cool dramatic, personal moments between them — namely, the divorced couple who end up working together on the Transhumanist project despite their mutual hatred for one another, who ultimately backstab each other again — but frankly, it's not very interesting to just see someone tell you that. It doesn't matter how witty or clever the commentary and writing is, I want to see it happen, I want to witness their interpersonal relations. If this were a real-life documentary from 50 years from now, and it aired on 60 Minutes or whatever, it would probably be great, because investigative journalism can get away with digging deep and just reciting facts (although I'd argue that most award-winning works of investigative journalism still manage to find a compelling human angle, something for the audience to emotionally engage with that makes them follow the story through to the end). In Transhuman, we just get a bunch of talking heads telling us what already happened, and a narrator / director to steer us away from any unreliable sources. There is literally nothing compelling or human to pull you through the story. There's a clever (albeit overwhelmingly cynical) twist at the end, which I guess is fun. But you can't build a story off a twist.
When Hickman first broke out onto the comics scene, I thought he was fantastic, but the truth is, he's good at creating the ILLUSION of good story telling. Everything he writes is done in summary, with a few cool moments in between to make it feel human. A friend of mine summed it up well as citing the difference between The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion — one is a story about characters that we care about, the other is a play-by-play history book, and Hickman writes the latter. I think Hickman would be better off as an idea man, leaving other people to actually execute these epic stories of his. Because the worlds he creates are always unique and fascinating, full of complex politics and otherworldly visions. But saying "HERE'S THIS CRAZY WORLD I CREATED AND THERE ARE THESE GUYS AND THEN THESE TWO FOUGHT AND THEN THIS GUY BETRAYED THIS GIRL AND THEN THIS PERSON WON, THE END" is really not a fun story to read.
When I got the call that I was accepted to Clarion, I was standing on the waterfront in Valdez, Alaska. My fiancé, Bevin, was in the middle of tech week for a play that she was producing when Tanya called me and said, "Hey, do you want to spend 6 weeks this summer writing fiction with a team of incredible teachers and other aspiring weirdos like yourself? Also it starts in 4 weeks and we need to have your answer tomorrow." Coordinating a phone call with your partner over a 4-hour time difference to ask her if she would mind if you went away again and also spend all of your money on playing make-believe in Californa is, well, not a conversation I'd wish on anyone. I'm kidding, of course; it went very well (clearly), because Bevin is incredibly supportive of me. But it was still a big decision.
If you know me in person, then you know I've talked about it enough: the Clarion Writer's Workshop at UCSD was an incredible and life-changing experience for me as both a person and a writer. And I wouldn't have been able to do it if not for scholarship support from the Clarion Foundation, which helped to ease some of the financial load. Don't get me wrong, if I had absolutely bankrupted myself and lost my job in order to attend Clarion, it still would have been worth it (neither of those things actually happened, for which I'm grateful). And so naturally, I want to give back.
Read More
I read the first 30 pages of The Girl With All The Gifts on the train ride into work one rainy morning, and I'm pretty sure I got choked at least three times in that opening section of the book. Who the hell gets emotional over precocious 10-year-old zombies?
The Girl With All the Gifts is a new novel by M.R. "Totally Not Mike Carey" Carey. I've been a fan of M.R.'s alter ego for a while now, ever since his run on X-Men: Legacy and, more recently, his crazy Harry Potter metafiction series The Unwritten, so even if The Girl With All The Gifts wasn't one of the most-hyped genre books of the year, I would have still been pretty excited about it. However, it was heavily hyped, which made me that much more anxious to get my hands on an ARC — and I can happily say that it was worth every bit of the buzz.
The simplest way to describe The Girl With All The Gifts is as a young adult zombie novel, but even given my personal penchant for clunky noun-y elevator pitches, that description doesn't do the book justice. The story focuses on an eerily precocious young girl named Melanie, who lives in a cellblock with twenty other children like her, where they go to school and learn and then get forced back into their cells by soldiers. Once a week, the children are given a chemical shower and a meal of grubs. The kids seem a little weird, sure, but they're all remarkably articulate, if a little bit naïve and — oh yeah, they sometimes crave human flesh, like the other mindless "hungries" that have obliterated the British landscape.
Here's a trailer for the book:
The majority of the book focuses on the relationship between Melanie and her favorite teacher, Ms. Justineau, on whom she has one of those weird psuedo-crushes that plenty of ten-year-olds have but especially those who are already emotionally stunted by, erm, crazy fungal parasites. That's another thing — this psuedoscience surrounding the zombie outbreak in this book is some of the most well-researched and believable science I've ever read in a zombie story (not to mention, viscerally grotesque in way too many ways). If you want some spoilers, it's a very slight extrapolation from this very real bit of scientific horror.
The real strengths of the book lie in its characters, as well as M.R. Carey's delicate prose. Sure, there are a few places where I would have liked a bit more vivid descriptions than "bland army cellblock" and "post-apocalyptic countryside," but Carey is able to capture so much emotion in his stark and simple sentences. The relationships are complex, but they're rendered in such a way that they are easy to understand and empathize with. And honestly, the young-adult-as-intelligent-zombie metaphor is a particularly powerful one — the adults simultaneously underestimate her and also think she's dangerous, while she has trouble grasping the true complexities of the world around her. Young adult stories are often about coming into one's own and discovering one's true identity, and in the case of Melanie, that couldn't be more literal. She thinks, therefore she is, but she continues to struggle with understanding what that means for the other people around her — both human and hungry alike. The rest of the cast stray into two-dimensional territory — the gruff soldier, the alcoholic Irish rookie (oof), the viciously determined scientist, and the mothering, emotional researcher — but in the end, you can't help but feel for them and root for their journeys, as well as Melanie's (and, like all good drama, those journeys don't always work in harmony together...).
If you like zombie stories, or young adult stories, or post-apocalyptic stories, or teacher-student relationship stories, I absolutely cannot recommend this book more highly. So check it out — I swear, it doesn't bite...
This is Alyssa Wong — or as I like to call her, Death Cupcake. Don't let her seemingly adorable exterior deceive you (or do — she'd probably prefer it if you do, as it gives her the advantage when she swoops in to devour your soul): Alyssa is a wonderful, wonderful person who writes some of the most brutal stories I've encountered. Alyssa's stories, much like their creator, are a perfect marriage of cutesy moments and grotesque, gut-wrenching horror. This seemingly incongruous combination is precisely what makes her and her stories so wonderful.
But don't let my biased voice fool you. Take it from SF Site, who just interviewed Alyssa about The Fisher Queen, her first professional fiction publication. I had the pleasure of reading the first draft of The Fisher Queen at Clarion in the summer of 2013, and it's one of the stories that has stuck with me ever since. The best way I can describe it is as a Feminist Mermaid Horror story. If that sounds weird to, well, that's part of the charm of Alyssa's work — she can write a feminist mermaid horror story and actually pull it off. I was legitimately squirming by the end of this story.
Again, don't take my word for it — you can download the entire story for free on Amazon in this exclusive sampler digest of Fantasy & Science Fiction. And yes, I would suggest you do so — if for no other reason than to appease the Death Cupcake Queen, so that she might have mercy on your soul once she rules the fiction landscape (which she will).
Because banning books has always ended well, and has never been held up as an eternal symbol of a corrupt society...
Cory himself explains it perfectly over at BoingBoing: "I don't think this is a problem because my book is the greatest novel ever written and the kids will all miss out by not reading it, but because I think that the role of an educator is to encourage critical thinking and debate, and that this is a totally inappropriate way to address 'controversial' material in schools."
Little Brother is an absolutely exhilarating young adult novel about teens fighting back against Big Brother. Most of us read 1984 in school (and other dystopian classic, such as Brave New World), but Little Brother arms readers with the necessary knowledge to fight back. Big Brother is watching you, all right — but who's keeping tabs on Big Brother? The book is set vaguely now-ish, and even reading it as an adult, it was both educational, and horrifying. I'm glad I read it after the Boston Marathon Bombings, or else I would have been even more freaked out during that situation, rather than being oblivious to the other real-life horrors of what was going on (the basic plot of the novel follows a teen named Marcus Yallow who skips school to go LARPing, which puts him in the wrong place during a terrorist attack and leads him into the torturous hands of the Department of Homeland Security). It's one of those books that I find myself recommending to absolutely everyone I meet, but especially to middle- and high school students.
Fortunately, when not writing fantastic science fiction books, Cory Doctorow is also an advocate for Internet freedoms and basic Civil Rights (plus a fantastic writing mentor). His publisher, Tor Books (to whom I also contribute, via Tor.com), has agreed to send 200 free paperback copies of the novel to students at Booker T. Washington High School. And on top of that, you can download Little Brother for free in a variety of different formats directly from Cory's website, where he offers all of his books for download under Creative Commons licensing (the idea being that people will download the book for free, like I did, then tell someone about it, like I just did, which then leads to someone buying it. And it works). Even the National Coalition Against Censorship has gotten involved, writing a good ol' fashioned "strongly worded letter" to the educational administration in Pensacola.
So download Little Brother (it's free! You have literally no excuse!), give it to your friends and younger cousins and siblings. Because a society that still bans books is not a good place to live.
Back when I was like 13, and just getting invested in the CT ska scene, there was this band called Flip Ya For Real that I saw, which at the time was fronted by a guy named Travis Holyfield (or, ya know, "Flip Ya Trav" at the time, because ska nicknames). At some point I started chatting with Travis over AIM (since his AOL email address was listed on their CD liner notes for booking), and for what reason, he actually tolerated and put up with me.
Flash-forward 15-or-so years, and Travis and I still stay in touch, even though FYFR and his other (even better) band SaveFace are now defunct. But with our musical pasts behind us, Travis and I and have actually reconnected over comic books. He's had a few short pieces out in various anthologies from GrayHaven Comics (who also published my first short comic book story in The Fifth Dimension, which I pitched on Travis's recommendation), and the company recently published his first full-length one-shot, DOBER-MAN, which is now available digitally at ComiXology for the low, low price of $0.99!
Dober-Man is fun, clever homage to the old 1960s Batman show, and Travis makes absolutely no secret of that. The allusions are clear to even a casual fan (The alter egos of Dober-Man and his sidekick Beagle, for example, are Burt West and Ward Adams, after Adam West and Burt Ward), but the book is also jam-packed with little silver-age gems scattered throughout the background. The puns are punderful — I mean, a Stage Irish T-Rex named Tyrant O'Saurus? C'mon! That's amazing! And even in 24 short pages, Travis and artist Edward Whatley manage to cram some clever concepts in between the homage campiness, such as a fully legal and legitimate staffing company that hires out henchmen for supervillains (many of him are thinly-veiled but gleefully silly allegories of established Bat-villains). This wacky bit of economic world-building plays out in remarkably interesting ways, and while Travis is wise not to spend too much time exploring the inner political workings of his superhero universe, he teases enough on the surface to get your brain working just enough beyond the surface enjoyment of it all. In the end, it's a wholesome, classic superhero romp that's appropriate for all ages — and it only costs $1 right now, so what are you waiting for? Pick it up, and support independent comic book creators! NOW!
Here are a few preview pages to further whet your whistle:
Or, I suppose more accurately, I was had at "four hour bus ride to New York City what should I read to pass the time ooh this looks interesting and I bet I can devour it in one sitting." And that's how I came to read The Orange Eats Creeps, the debut novel by Grave Krilanovich, which is less Twilight and more Requiem for a Dream; less sparkly vampires, more meth addiction.
Read MoreCan you believe it's been 5 years since the release of Pride & Prejudice & Zombies? And just over 200 from the release of the original novel? Well, to celebrate, the folks at Quirk Books (who published ...and Zombies and its followups, as well as many other fine collections of pulped trees) asked me to do some digging and explore the past, present, and future of their massive mashup mega-hit -- where it started, how it worked, and what it did for the company over the last 5 years. The short answer is that it basically launched their entire fiction line, which is now tremendously successful -- and also served as an accidental omen to our current pop-culture status of zombie overload (seriously! They beat the trend! But barely). For the long answer? Check out my 3-piece retrospective on Pride & Prejudice & Zombies on the Quirk website.
As much as I enjoy Say Anything (the band fronted by writer Max Bemis), I was hesitant to pick up this comic because, well, the premise sounds exactly like the pseudo-autobiographical premise of their first album "...Is A Real Boy," which kindofsortamaybe chronicled Bemis's descent into super-powered bi-polar disorder -- except that, while recording said album, Max Bemis was actually diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and locked himself up for a while. But, the book was on sale for $4 on ComiXology, so I figured hey, why not.
While I tend to be the kind of person who connects with comic books more the writing than the art (although I do love a good collaboration), I'd first look to say that the artwork on this book is PHENOMENAL. It's slightly cartoonish, but not a childish way, and accurately portrays hyperviolence, superhero action, internal mindscape struggles, and hipster culture. As for the story itself, it didn't shy away from the fact that it was a slight variation on the story that Bemis has told several times already. The basic premise is that Tim is an artist and self-loathing hipster who suffers from bi-polar disorder, and after he's institutionalized and begins taking pills, he can't create his art. So he goes off his medication, and soon discovers that his untreated condition literally gives him superpowers. But maybe he's too dangerous, and maybe there's a Shadowy Government Organization trying to create an army of Bi-Polar Super Soldiers? Meanwhile, his art is getting better, and he meets a girl.
Overall, it's a pretty enjoyable story, and while applying science fictional concepts to mental illness is nothing new, I actually think that Bemis does it in a pretty fresh way -- by essentially saying that yes, mental illness IS a superpower, but the same way that traditional superheroes suffer from their extra-human abilities, maybe it's still better if you take your pills and try to function like a normal person. That being said, I'm not sure how this book would read to someone who was unfamiliar with "hipster" culture. The main character spends a lot of the book criticizing everyone around him for being hypocrites and poseurs, and ultimately realizes that he's just the same as the rest of them. If you're familiar with Say Anything's music, Tim's rants are all basically pulled straight out of the song "Admit it!" As far as cultural critique is concerned, it is an interesting analysis of hipsterdom that I mostly agree with, even if it is a bit misanthropic (which works well in a loud rock song, but feels different as internal monologue).
That being said, I wonder how someone who was outside of or unfamiliar with "hipster culture" would feel about this book. It's very insular, and some might even say that hipsters criticizing hipsters for being hipsters is THE most hipster thing possible, and while the story does acknowledge that irony (while also criticizing irony as the cheapest form of hipster self-defense), it never quite transcends it. I suspect that if you weren't already aware of and/or immersed in that post-art-school-Williamsburg-landscape, you'd think, "Okay, so these are a bunch of Urban Outfitters asshole who are too cool for Urban Outfitters and this main character is kind of an unlikeable dick who judges everyone around him for being fake judgmental assholes -- why should I care?" And if that's you, I might suggest that you're better served by listening to "Woe" and "Admit it!" by Say Anything, which pretty much sum up the book.
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
This was enjoyable, but it took me longer to get through than it should have, because I didn't care enough. It's a fun concept, I like the world, but I wish it had either been funnier, or darker (for example, and this is a slight spoiler: if you have a co-worker who's a succubus and feeds on sexual energy, and he tries to seduce your character at a nightclub because he's hungry, and you DON'T find a way to make that a metaphor either for date rape, or a regrettable but consensual one night stand with a co-worker? C'mon! It's right there!). Instead, it was kind of a mediocre middle ground between monsters and tourism that was certainly fun, but nothing remarkable. I loved the idea of Public Works, and the zombies, and some of the characters were still fun (despite the fact that I have literally no idea what the protagonist looked like). By the time the epic ending came around, which I guess was kind of cool, I was more interested in finishing the book than I was in what actually happened to any of the characters (spoilers: they all live happily ever after. lame).
My rating: 2.5 of 5 stars
Over on the Quirk Books blog, I propose a few days for Alternative Oktoberfests, mostly inspired by books, in case you're one of those weirdos (not like me) who somehow doesn't enjoy a sixteen-day festival of beer and bratwurst (weird). Check it out:
Another piece up on Tor.com, about the recently-concluded X-Factor comic book from Marvel, which has consistently been one of my favorite titles (despite its low-selling b-list cult status) for the last 7 years or so.
I've had a busy few weeks of pontificating on geeky pop culture things -- I mean, professionally, as opposed to the normal all-of-my-free-time that I spend doing precisely that -- and so I've got a few new articles / essays / thinkpieces / posts / whatever-you-wanna-call-'ems up on Tor.com:
So check 'em out, leave your comments, and then eagerly await the next installment of "Thom Talks Nerdy."
(wow I can't believe I totally forgot to post about this back in April) (yes I realize I've been neglecting this site) (I could have sworn I posted about this when it happened...)
I recently published another comic book story, this one with Boston Comics Roundtable / Ninth Art Press and featuring artwork by my friend Jim Gallagher. Our story is part of an anthology series about Boston-centric superheroes, and what's even cooler is that our superhero "Louie the Lone Dervish" (inspired by Louie With The Tricycle, a popular homeless guy around these parts) is featured right there on the cover on the anthology as well. Not bad for a story about a crazy superhobo on a refurbished three-wheeler!
The comic was originally set to have its debut at Boston Comic-Con back in April, but, well, that kind of got postponed because, you know, all kinds of craziness. So it's now available online following the re-scheduled Boston Comic-Con from last weekend. You can pick up a copy of "In A Single Bound" #2 over at the Ninth Art Press website, a scant $6 for 36 glorious black-and-white pages done entirely by Boston-based writers & artists.
UPDATE: this blog post managed to make the rounds today, thanks to the magical powers of the Internet, and I was interviewed by Boston Magazine about it. You know, 'cause I'm awesome n'shizz. Check out the interview over on their website!