Unhealthy Habits: Wasteland – The Apocalyptic Edition

So I bought this book, and… Well, the reason I’m plugging it is quite self-explanatory:

This one tickles me in many ways:

First off, it’s called “Wasteland”, which is quite reminiscent of something T. S. Eliot once wrote.

Secondly, the subtitle for the hard cover is “The Apocalyptic Edition”, which made me want it way, way too much.

Thirdly, it’s got blurb from Warren Ellis, internet Jesus extraordinaire.

Fourthly, it’s from Oni Press, publisher of two of my favourite comic book series, Queen & Country & Local.

Fifthly, it’s a black & white post-apocalyptic sci-fi comic with lots & lots of mythology & religions & crazy-scary monsters & stuff.

So I bought it, read it, and here’s what I thought:

It’s not that good, really.

(I know, weird right? It should by all accounts be really good. I mean, just look at the list of reasons for christssake!)

Do you want me to elaborate?

The Good Parts include everything but the writing of it & the artwork is sometimes confusing & I really disagree with a lot of the choices that were made in how to present stuff.

The Bad Parts include the writing & the artwork the bad choices that I disagree with.

But damn, if they bring out a second volume & call it something like, “The Apocalypticer Edition”?

I’d totally buy it.

And that’s an Unhealthy Habit.

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A Song Ice & Fire R.R.ave-viewed

Wanna hear a dirty secret?

(Well, it’s not exactly a secret, but you know, let me play out this little charade for you)

Wanna hear a dirty, shocking secret about yours truly? Well, do you?

Me, the fantasy reader. Me, the self-assumed mini-authority on the subject of the fantastical. Me, the smart-ass who’s been telling you What To Think in Blog Sized Portions since the first time you read A Slight Apocalypse.

Yes, I bet you do. And here it comes:

I’ve never read “A Song of Ice & Fire” by George R. R. Martin. Now, depending on your level of fanboyishness, I have either engendered a severe lack of outrage, or (most likely) a sever case of I-knew-that-already-from-reading-your-title,-silly.

Anyhoo. This rather large flaw in my fantasy bibliography has now been rectified, and I am currently as up-to-date on the series as anyone else. This means that I’ve strapped on my proverbial boots and worked my way through the soggy fields of four giant, epic, continent-sprawling tomes of what I am sure is the best on-going fantasy series out there since John Ronald Reuel Tolkien took a deep, hearty sigh and pushed the manuscript for the Lord of the Rings into the mail-box.

Yes, it’s that good. I’m not even joking, and if you find the lack of sickening hyperbole (and we all know how I looove me some sickening hyperbole) in this “review” to be a little worrying, it’s only because Martin is so much fucking better than anything comparable that it’s a bit sobering even for me.

So, on the off chance that you’re an unlucky reader who’ve by a trick of the Gods managed to stumble on to this post and come this far before giving up, I’m going to do a little re-cap of what “a Song of Ice & Fire” is, what it’s about and so on.

“A Song of Ice Fire” is a fantasy series in seven parts set in a different world, much like Lord of the Rings is set on Middle Earth. But here’s the twist: Where Tolkien’s playground is basically Europe in Dark Ages/Middle Ages with an added, albeit dwindling, amount of magic , Martin’s chose a different tack. His world (for funsies, let’s pretend it’s called Westeros, even if that’s not completey correct) is Europe during the 14th-15th century (cue the Loki edit), and the amount of magic is steadily growing, all though it yet to take an especially prominet part in the series to this point.

The four books that are published so far, are called: “a Game of Thrones”, “a Clash of Kings”, “a Storm of Swords” & lastly, “a Feast for Crows”, and the plot(s) that go on in them is supposed to be based on the War of the Roses. This of course means that the books are full of characters that really want to be king or queen of Westeros, and since – like the Highlander said – there can only be one(!), they must fight it out for the honours. Now, this “fighting” can be the your run-of-the-mill battle on a hill or what-have-you, but in Martin’s world it’s far more likely to be a knife in the dark or a scheme gone awry.

I don’t want to call it a gritty series, because that word seems to have lost all its meaning nowadays, but it’s certainly an ironically realistic take on the fantasy genre. The characters and their motivations are all as believable as they’re undeniably flawed, and the world they live in is properly fucked up enough to be mistaken for our very own Earth. It’s actually so realistic and brutal and grimy that if you’re used to gentler fare (and let me tell you, most people probably are), these books can prove to be devastatingly brutal. Nobody’s safe; everyone and anyone can die at any time, and as the tensions between the houses build and battles are fought, everyone knows that summer is ending…

… and winter is coming.

(…………….PARTS MISSING…………)*

(……..par..ts……………………………………)**

(……………….m………………….issing….)***

If you love fantasy as much as me, then I can’t see any good reason why you shouldn’t love a Song of Ice & Fire. Not to rip of LotR or any other works in the genre, but this series is most likely the closest its been to High Literature since its inception. It’s an instant classic in the truest sense of the word, and I give it my highest recommendation.

10/10

*As things currently stand, aSoIaF is not a complete work, and insofar as criticisms of it goes, they’re hardly relevant until after a Dance with Dragons is published.

**aFfC is the only book I can find any fault with, and aFfC is only half a book, which is probably why I can find any fault with it to begin with.

***That being said, I don’t see why Martin didn’t just wait to publish aFfC until he could make it a more satisfying read****

****Editor’s Note: Oh, shut up will you?

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Awesomepocalypse, the Scott Lynch Edition

Scott Lynch has put up the prologue to “The Republic of Thieves”, book three in the Gentlemen Bastard Sequence. Go forth and marvel at how awesome it is.

Posted in Amras on the Prowl | 5 Comments

True Blood, Season 1

So here’s me, hitching a ride with the hype-train that is the vampire/twilight phenomenon. After having successfully had my fingers firmly planted in my ears since True Blood starting airing last summer, I finally relented to its alluring HBO goodness, even though I did get a bit sore from getting on down from my high horse (thanks for asking).

It’s not that I have much against vampires or even Twilight for that matter (I have never read or seen any of it), but well… if teenage girls are falling over themselves about just how cuuute a vampire is, I tend to get a bit miffed and start complaining about how vampires shouldn’t be cute. They should be scary. They should be mysterious. They should like to suck people dry, and if you’re so conflicted about having fangs, then there’s no one stopping you from taking a sunday morning stroll with some delightful charring on the side, is there? I know that I if had to spend eternity brooding over eating people… well, I guess what I’m saying is that I wouldn’t do that.

But apparently that’s what vampires do nowadays, so what do I know? And there’s no denying that there’s always been more of a romantic theme in the vampire mythos than in the, say, zombie or werewolf mythos. Hell, even Dracula had his ways with the damsels, but he always did end up eating them (like a proper vampire should).

As you’ve hopefully surmised by now, True Blood is a vampire show, or more precisely, the vampire show these days. It’s HBO’s biggest hit since the Sopranos, which was in its day the channel’s biggest hit ever, and since I’m a veritable sucker for HBO, I kind of had to check it out closer.

So I did. And you know what?

It’s not bad.

Not bad at all.

All though some of it is quite bad, but we’ll get to that later. First though, let’s discuss what it’s actually about.

We’ve already established that this is a vampire show, so as expected that’s where the main thrust of the show lies. A vampire named Bill walks into a small-town bar down in red-neck Louisiana, where our main character, Sookie Stackhouse, works for a living. He orders a bottle of True Blood, a synthetic blood-drink that vampires may drink if they’re not so keen on pulsing arteries, and makes big puppy-dog eyes over blonde little Sookie. You see,  Sookie is a special girl; she can hear what people think, and she hears it all the time. But she can’t hear what Bill thinks, plus, you know, he’s really cuuute… so you can pretty much spot that horse winning the race from the get-go.

So, fast forward and yada, yada, yaaa, we come up with a show that’s a little to the side of what you’d expect of an HBO production. When I think HBO, I think Rome, Deadwood & the Sopranos. I think gritty, realistic, well-written and meaty television. I think blood, sweat, tears and sex.

In True Blood’s case, only two of those characteristics apply: namely the sex & blood. There are some tears as well, but you see, when cute vampires cry, they cry tears of (oh-so-sad) blooood. So really, it doesn’t count, does it? But anyhoo, just to get a long-winded point out of the way: This isn’t a heavy HBO production. It’s more in the vein of shows like Entourage or, I imagine, Sex in the City, and there’s nothing really wrong with that, seeing as love my Entourage.

But the concepts of Entourage & True Blood are very different. On the one hand, you’ve got a show set in Hollywood about an industry that gets more press than anything else in the world, and on the other hand, you’ve got a show set in the world where vampires have just stepped out into the public’s eye. There’s a whole lot of secrets in True Blood, and while its themes are fluffy in parts, it’s a show with potential for some really fucked up shit (not that vampires aren’t fucked up enough as it is). But does it utilize that range?

The short answer? No, it sure as hell doesn’t.

The long answer? Well, it’s only the first season. And there fact that I can see vast reserves of potential in the show can only be a good omen for the future. True Blood’s main problem is surprisingly enough (for an HBO show, I mean) that it isn’t very well written. Or perhaps I should say it’s written in a very populistic manner, but that smacks of a poor euphemism, and I can’t have that.

But what’s wrong, then?

Well, it’s a lazy show. It’s got an over-arching plot line that’s highly under-explored and under-developed, and all too predictable and utilized in all too similar ways over the course of the season. It has a main character who can hear people’s thoughs, which is nifty device, but also one that requires the viewer to just go with the story-teller’s whim. Do we get to hear a clue, or are we left hanging? I would call this a big failing if they actually didn’t pull it off so well (I very rarely got annoyed by it), but it’s a failing none the less.

The show also suffers from some rather stiff characterization of its main players, which was very surprising to me. In most cases they didn’t even come close to building characters, and ended up setting up stereotypes in stead, or even just parodies. Now, I realize this is quite common with popular drama shows (it adds a certain humour thats easily relatable), but it really was quite disappointing that they ended up with such a lopsided gallery.

One thing I really enjoyed, however, was the way they treated the vampire aspect, which admittedly is a big part of the show. I couldn’t care less for the Bill (for reference, he’s the cute puppy-dog eyed one), but the rest of the vampires were easily more bad-ass, and it’s clear that there’s a wealth of potential to mine there. They even have a really old Swede as the district’s vampire sheriff, which I thought was really awesome (and when he talks Swedish, it actually sounds like Swedish, too, not like the “Norwegian” we heard in Twin Peaks).

Now, as for the fluff, I can’t say it’s really bothersome. Sure, I could live without Sookie’s heartbreak drama, but compared to the fluff of Buffy or Angel, this show doesn’t really have any to speak of. The best thing about the show for me was the feeling it managed to convey that the world they lived in was scary as shit and all too dangerous to be any kind of fun… but at the same time, it’s also a world where vampires & shapeshifters roam, and man, wouldn’t that be kind of cool?

Just a little bit?

I think so. And True Blood manages to do that really well, and I think that, given time, a lot of my problems with it should vanish like…

… a vampire in the sun.

Heh. I crack myself up.

7.5/10

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Best Served Cold by Joe Abercrombie

Best Served Cold was the book that stole my wallet.

- What now? Was it that expensive?

- Well, no, it wasn’t exactly expensive or anything. Heck, it’s so cheap that I even bought two of ‘em.

- So what’s your point, then?

- If you can just shuddup a second, I’ll get to it:

When I visited Oslo in June, it was solely so that I could get a copy of Best Served Cold by Joe Abercombie. I go in to greater detail about what happened next in this post right here, but the gist of it is that on my way to the signing, my wallet got nicked.

- Huh, that’s unlucky. So what did you, then?

- I got my damned book signed, that’s what I did! And then then I went to the police.

But enough about me, let’s talk about the book. ‘Cause it damn well deserves it.

Best Served Cold is fantasy novel set in the same world as Abercrombie’s debut trilogy, The First Law. If you want to, you can read my reviews of the books of that trilogy by pressing the links to book 1, book 2 and book 3, but the long and short of it is that The First Law fuckin’ rocked.

So the question becomes, does Best Served Cold rock equally hard? And the answer is: Kinda, yeah.

But not quite.

Here, let me elaborate:

Best Served Cold is – surprise, surprise – a story of revenge, heaped with revenge and some similar tasting side-dishes of betrayal, disloyalty and a good helping of old fashioned backstabbing. The book begins with introducing the main character, a very successful mercenary captain called Monzacarro, and then we get to find out why (and how) she wants to exact revenge on some very powerful people.

So bascially it’s a medievalesque version of Kill Bill, only the story is told with a motley crew of fascinating side-characters. Some of these characters are old favourites, like “Shivers” and “Nicomo Cosca”, others are people only referenced in the First Law trilogy and some are, of course, factory fresh.

Best Served Cold is without a doubt an enjoyable book, and was well worth getting my wallet stolen over (well, not really, but you get my point). Abercrombie has a knack for coming up with entertaining characters that keeps the book pumping way, and the dialogue is fine as well. It’s also very dark and humorous, and I never felt like putting the book away, which is a rarity.

However. And yes, there is a however. In fact, there are many.

I was expecting more, and I was expecting something a little more daring.

That may be unfair to Joe Abercrombie. His first books were fairly successful and critically lauded, so he came up with a new enough theme and setting and went to work. And that’s fine, really. It’s just that I had hoped to see this book try to stretch his storytelling abilities even further than it did ( though it’s by no means a simplistic book). I wish he could’ve found a way to make the “vengeance” theme new again, in stead of writing a helluva good, but seemingly a bit run-of-the-mill variant on what we’ve so often seen before.

But that’s wishing for a different book, and is most certainly unfair to Joe, so I’ll quiet down now. It’s not his fault that I have no great affection for a good vengeance story, especially if they’re done in such an earnest manner as here. I love Kill Bill vol. 1, but that’s because it feels like romp, even though it’s incredibly dark and twisted. Kill Bill vol. 2 lost some of that charm, and made a go for earnest, and that’s why vol. 1 is the superior movie.

I also question whether the secondary world setting for such a story is optimal. It no doubt works, but I can’t help but feel like it would’ve carried more punch if set in the Real World. Fantasy & Science Fiction are genres often best utilized when used to tell stories that translate back to what we see around us, but the stories are often of such a nature that they require a different world to be told. Not that you can’t tell any story short of epic in SFF – that’s not what I’m saying – it’s just that I don’t see why Best Served Cold is a fantasy book. It would’ve carried much more punch if it wasn’t.

But make no mistake; this is a good book. Best Served Cold is about a woman who needs to kill some powerful men, and if you want to read Abercrombies iteration on that, I heartily welcome you to. It’s the best fantasy book of 2009 so far. Not that that says as much as you’d think.

8.0/10

Posted in Amras on the Prowl | 3 Comments

I Am Updated

Hello!

I’m just poppin’ by to wave hello and point you towards my newly updated “About” page, wherein I detail in brief terms that I am now a resident of Oslo. Yes, yes, I know, I know. You can barely hold back your excitement at this most shocking revelation. No, thank you. You’re just too kind.

Oh, and the thing is mostly told in the third-person narrative. I thought that was suitably pretentious.

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Butterflies & Unicorns & All That Is Lovely, or Why Twitter Rocks My World

Today, the 2nd of August, 2009, I – Jon Kleiven – had the following interraction with Scott Lynch (the fantasy writer extraordinaire):

Me: Lo & behold! @scottlynch78 has joined twitter only a FEW DAYS after i started my hashtag #ScottLynchRules to bring him here. Coincidence?

Scott Lynch: @Jon_Kleiven — Ha ha! Fool, mind tricks don’t work on me! Only money. And caffeine. And let’s be honest, alcohol.

I am seriously considering having that tweet made into a t-shirt.

Posted in Amras on the Prowl | 6 Comments

A Post in Which I Ramble On Various & Sundry Items of Little Concern

It’s the middle of the month, it’s vacation, it’s too damn hot, I am doing a whole lot of nothing and everything…

And it’s time…

It’s that special time of the month when I pop back to give my blog a single breath of resuscitation, only to let it wimper pathetically out like a badly plugged air-mattress. I really have no excuse for not blogging, other than that I seldom find myself in the need to actively share deeper thoughts on subjects than what can be poorly put into 140 characters or less. Because I do Twitter. And I still think that’s pretty fun. Perhaps I’m just fickle son of a bitch, switching out this tried and tested blog for a something newer, shinier and a whole less user-friendly.

Well, what can you do. It probably has some slight connection with me being a lazy bastard. But even the laziest bastard-blogger must be up to something, so the question becomes, what have I been doing with myself, and how can I tell you it to you without this blog-post becoming too much of a over-indulgent, self-loving emo text where all the sentences go on forever and ever an end with three punctuation marks and a smiley face.

And should I stop using the word “well” all the time? I have no doubt that I should, but I just can’t stop myself. It must be my happy-go-lucky subconcsious constantly trying to manipulate me into thinking that everything is in deed & thought very well, thank you.

Which things generally are. There’s no denying that, except for the occasional grunt I utter whenever I have to go to work (at a gas station) and try to service people who I’m sure are pretty nice if you get to know them properly, but I’ll be damned if they don’t do they’re very best to annoy me and make me lament the current status of the human species in general. Well, okay, so maybe that’s a bit harsh, but a man can only take so many rounds of “do you want fries with that?” before you go a little crazy. All in all it’s actually an okay job when you’re option’s are as limited as they are up here. You can either: A. shovel shit for a living. B. Wash the shit of old people for a living, or C. Feed people shit for a living. I opted for option C., and I must say that my shit? It’s excellent.

But when July runs out of sun-sets, I’ll be setting sail for more southern parts of Norway, i.e. Oslo. Our capitol. The place where kings and queens recide next to drug addicts and fucking pick-pockets (more on this later) and our fine statesmen and politicians. It’s also the place where the University of Oslo recides, squared away in the busiest street of Norway, which is bizarrely named after our former oppressors. I think there’s something ironic about that, but I’m not entirely sure. Anyway, at this university, I’ll hopefully be studying law and be all serious-like, which will probably only last as long as it takes me to figure out how I can best coast through it without doing all too porly. I am nothing if not ambitious about my work-ethic.

It’s going to be weird though. I just ended my three year long tenure at high-school, graduating with probably the best grades in my entire year – which doesn’t say as much as you’d think, but it says enough – and now it’s off to foreign parts. And here I am, having never lived anywhere else than with my parents. There’s just so much stuff that’s going to change. New people, new places, no prepared dinners, no friends close by, no nothing.

But I bet it’s going to be great. I bet it’ll be just fine. I bet it’ll at least be okay when I’ve settled in tasered my way through the worst parts of the city’s pick-pockets, forever in hunt of the guy who stole my wallet last time I visited Oslo (which was like three weeks ago). He took my cash, my train-ticket home, and of course everything else of value in there. I did get the wallet back eventually though, so at least there’s that. Let’s just say I’m never going through that city without having that third eye installed in my neck. I don’t care if it’s creepy; it’s just necessary, folks.

It could’ve gone worse though. He only managed to take something like a thousand kroners worth of stuff out if it, and I’ll get some of that back from the insurance. The worst part would’ve been the ticket, but thankfully I had my sister close at hand, and she kindly provided a new train ticket home. And on that train I met a really cool Austrian guy who was back-packing through Scandinavia, and we chatted all the way from Oslo to Trondheim and beyond. It was a genuinly awesome experience, and I can’t help but think that I wouldn’t have had it if I hadn’t gotten that new ticket. The guy was going to Bodø last time I saw him. I hope he made it there and back again just fine.

So what was I doing in Oslo, besides getting to know it’s more colourful citizenry? Well, let me tell you: I was there to get my copy of “Best Served Cold” by Joe Abercrombie signed. And I did, even though I was bit shell-shocked at the time, what with being wallet-less and all… But Joe was the epitome of cool, and he inscribed my copy in a way that makes me smile every time I think about it. It sure made it all a bit better. I haven’t managed to get around to the book yet. though I hope I’ll get to it in a couple days’ time.

I just have to finish Martin’s “A Feast for Crows” first, and then it’s on to finishing an hitherto untitled work by my only blog-fan, mister Loki Aesir. I can’t actually tell which project I’m most looking forward to right now, and given how highly I hold Martin’s abilities, that’s saying something.

So… yeah, that’s me right now. That’s where I’m at, at this point in my life. Like the title implies, this isn’t a very structured piece, but I hope you enjoyed it if you came this far. As far as more blogging goes… Gee, I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll get around to it one day. Perhaps I’ll post a review of the new Harry Potter movie (which reviews have in fact convinced me that I might not hate this time around), or would you perhaps like it if I posted some thoughts on a Song of Ice & Fire. I do have some of those stored away by now, four books deep and all..

Posted in Amras on the Prowl | 24 Comments

Results Indicate That I Am David Eddings

What’s this? Two blog posts in two days? I must be sick, or at least procrastinating like crazy. But whichever the case should turn out to be (I’m rooting for both), I just wanted to drop by to share with you my results on this nifty test I took. It tells you which fantasy author you’re most like (or at least how you compare to the content of the fantasy author’s work), and I ended up being the recently deceased David Eddings, which I guess is like being a more pulpy version of JRR Tolkien.

I’m okay with that though, ’cause I remember liking Eddings’ work when I was a youngster, and even though I’ve since noticed how it’s… you know, not all that great, really, I should also try to remember that it was aimed at a certain demographic, and was quite successful at doing what it did.

If you do take the test, please drop your results in the comment section. I would dearly like to make fun of you if you turned out to be something like Terry Goodkind or Robert Stanek :)

David Eddings (b. 1931)

-1 High-Brow, 11 Violent, -1 Experimental and 17 Cynical!

David Eddings (b. 1931)

Congratulations! You are Low-Brow, Violent, Traditional and Cynical! These concepts are defined below.

David Eddings is the best-selling author of several series of fantasy novels, the most famous being The Belgariad (1982-84) and The Malloreon (1988-92). These books have become almost epitomic of the kind of fantasy that is fast-paced, full of humorous dialogue and written to entertain. And entertain they do. Few other writers have Eddings’ ability to create characters that not only makes the reader feel as if he or she knows them, but are also very likeable. Perhaps this is due to Eddings unusual path to writing fantasy: He had tried writing in other genres with moderate success when he discovered that fantasy, a genre he had hitherto not been interested in, sometimes sells very well, and therefore started turning an old sketch of a map into a series of books. Without an interest in experimenting with form or pushing the boundaries of the genre, Eddings created the penultimate light entertainment instead, trusting his readers to keep reading because of charming characters and exotic, though not particularly original, environments.

After the success of The Belgariad and The Malloreon, Eddings turned to writing fantasy which was, supposedly, aimed at a more adult audience. The tendency towards violence as entertainment that had been present through-out his early works grew more prominent in the series of The Elenium (1989-91)and The Tamuli (1992-94). It was also around this time that David Eddings wife, Leigh Eddings, was credited as the co-author of his books, though they admitted that she had been contributing from the very beginning.

Though Eddings isn’t the most high cultured of fantasy writers, few would dispute that when it comes to charm, he has no rivals.

You are also a lot like J R R Tolkien.

If you want something more gentle, try Robert Jordan.

If you’d like a challenge, try your exact opposite, Tove Jansson.

Posted in Amras on the Prowl | 17 Comments

Bad Directions

Well it’s 9th and Hennepin
And all the donuts have
Names that sound like prostitutes
And the moon’s teeth marks are
On the sky like a tarp thrown over all this
And the broken umbrellas like
Dead birds and the steam
Comes out of the grill like
The whole goddamned town is ready to blow.
And the bricks are all scarred with jailhouse tattoos
And everyone is behaving like dogs.
And the horses are coming down Violin Road
And Dutch is dead on his feet
And the rooms all smell like diesel
And you take on the
Dreams of the ones who have slept here.
And I’m lost in the window
I hide on the stairway
I hang in the curtain
I sleep in your hat
And no one brings anything
Small into a bar around here.
They all started out with bad directions
And the girls behind the counter has a tattooed tear,
One for every year he’s away she said, such
A crumbling beauty, but there’s
Nothing wrong with her that
$100 won’t fix, she has that razor sadness
That only gets worse
With the clang and the thunder of the
Southern Pacific going by
As the clock ticks out like a dripping faucet
Till you’re full of rag water and bitters and blue ruin
And you spill out
Over the side to anyone who’ll listen
And I’ve seen it
All through the yellow windows
Of the evening train.

– 9th & Hennepin, Rain Dogs, lyrics by Tom Waits

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