Timing

So I read Stephen King's novel about the Kennedy assassination. 

It was surprisingly good. 

Unfortunately, the enormity of the subject makes an elegant and simplified analysis difficult, if not impossible. I was 18 when the terrorist attacks occurred in New York and DC. Considering how much that shaped my world, I can't begin to fathom how such an event like the one on 11/22/63 would shatter innocence and alter lives. To my admitted dismay and shame, it made for absolutely engrossing reading and fascinating storytelling. 

Let me explain a bit. 

11/22/63 tells the story of Jake Epping, a man who is given access to a gateway to the past by an elderly friend. This friend, being not long for this Earth, has become obsessed with using this possibility as a means to divert history and save Kennedy, hopefully setting the world on a different chain of events that would undo Vietnam and spare thousands of lives as a result. Jake, fascinated by all of this, goes along with it and travels back to 1958, into a world of heavy smoking and the red scare. After some exposition and a series of trial and error establishment of rules regarding time travel, he decides to go along with the plan and sets about changing history. What follows is an engrossing adventure into the past, aided by an impressive amount of research and historical details from King. 

While I could give my typical emphatic endorsement of the book here, I'll sidestep the process to offer a few thoughts on the idea as a whole. I've certainly made my apologist stance for King's canon clear before, so instead of making a plea for you to give in to his writing, I'll simply say that it's the best he's written in years and it feels like he moved away from his wheelhouse a bit, in a good way. Give it a chance. 

Now. 

I can't imagine what it would have been like to experience an event like the one in Dallas in November of 1963. I was 18 when the attacks happened and I could most likely spend the rest of my life trying to make sense of what happened. I probably will, in some ways. Such events are so massive in effect, despite their simple human beginnings, that our instinct is to force them into some sort of comprehendible, easily digested capsule of logic. This is, of course, impossible. 

For my generation, the scale of the events on September 11th will always be too large to grasp on any human scale - they are, by matter of fact, larger than one person can easily reconcile. All the more difficult it must be, then, to fathom how one lone person can be responsible for skewing the world off on to another course of events. It is of no surprise that conspiracy theories arise when we try to explain what happened in either event. To have some shadowy cabal of power players be responsible somehow seems so much more comprehensible than the reality of the actions of a few people. The events fly in the face of our understanding of how the world works. 

This being said, King's exploration of the subject is harrowing and humanizing. His exhaustive research into what (most likely) drove Lee Harvey Oswald to do what he did grants him an exhilarating yet horrifying place from which to tell a story. In some ways it's an the ultimate example of wish fulfillment - saving Kennedy is one of the classic cases cited for the potential of time travel. Who else is better suited than the long winded and exhaustive King to delve into the specifics of time travel and life in the 60s? 

I have to admit, I was almost giddy with excitement to see little scenarios play out, like rigging sports bets like in Back to the Future, or reveling in classic cars and examining knowingly outdated world views. Every time the protagonist started to risk revealing his nature or started to change the past in any way, I was on the edge of my seat, furiously flipping pages. Granted, I'm a fairly sizable nerd and time travel is some of the nerdiest stuff in fiction, but as engrossing as it may be for someone still under the age of 30 it was fantastic. I can't imagine how interesting it would be for anyone who actually experienced that time. 


I think, though, that some of the most significant lessons of the book come from the authors closing notes. In particular, a single sentence about our current state of vitriol and political fervor - "If you want to know what political extremism can lead to, look at the Zapruder film." That single, sad sentence says more about what our actions can lead to than the preceding 800 pages of human drive and desperation. One miserable, crazy person can do terrible things. It's a fascinating, scary ride to read about what makes them tick, but the moment they take action, it can't be taken back. The past won't change for us.


It would do us well to remember that.

Not Like That

Viral.

Viral, viral, viral.

I've been thinking a lot about that word these last few days. Not in the sense of desperate ad men, chasing after the most recent buzz word theyve glommed onto. Side-bar: you can't arbitrarily shoot for your campaign or video 'going viral' dummy, that's the point of the concept. It happens unintentionally and without reason. Rant over. No, the viral I've been thinking about is the bad kind. The kind that makes you question every sore throat and itchy eye.

Like the Plum Island kind of viral.

I found a book. I think maybe I gave it to my father in law for a birthday. How quaint, right? A paper book! It was an exposé on the secrets and history of Lab 257 on Plum Island, out past Long Island. It has a strong whiff of conspiratorial cloak and dagger to it, but it was still a fun, gripping jaunt down the rabbit hole into a world of viruses and germ warfare I assumed only existed in Resident Evil games. If you ever read my post on the paranormal-focused podcast Mysterious Universe, you would know I have a strong inclination for the unknown and whispered about. The things that go bump in the night. Plum Island is the kind of place born of the mind of a fevered fiction writer, not the stern, sober minds of the United States Armed Forces. It's long been rumored to be home to horrifying experiments and animal testing. While the white-coats there aren't creating something for the Umbrella Corporation, they still do work with some of the deadliest pathogens known to man.

So here we are. That's a real place.

Lab 257, written and researched by Michael Christopher Carroll, is an expose that dates back to just after WWII. It's common knowledge we brought over Nazi scientists to build the rockets for our burgeoning space program. It's less commonly known that we brought over the best and most creative virologists to develop the latest thing: germs. 

This tiny little island, off the coast of New England, is home to labs that not only house some of the most deadly viri and bacteria in the world, but some of the most appallingly lax security. It used to be strong, mind you. Carroll's exhaustive history tells of elaborate and maddening levels of decontaminization coupled with strict protocol. All of this seemed to go out the window when the US Army pulled out of the facilities and handed control over to the USDA. Yes, that USDA. Whereas the Army would snipe the deer that would occasionally swim to the island (and possibly carry infected bugs off with them, because why not?) the USDA would just not deal with it. The manner in which Carroll lays out the facts and history here, you begin to see how not only Lyme's disease, but also the West Nile virus spread from the supposedly safe facilities. Also, the numerous security lapses and de-con failures are staggering. Straight up raw sewage, laden with still hot germs, was being dumped for years into what used to be fertile coast line.

Crazy stuff.

You've got to read this book. It is a page turner in the absolute best way. It's the kind of book where you come in to it with an incredulous attitude, only to find yourself flipping furiously through the pages and thinking 'No way would the government let this happen'. Yet it totally did. Read up! It's fascinating.

Year End

...and with that, we draw to a close.


It's been one insane year. I don't know about you, but I am about to start getting duded up for a costume party. Lots to do and miles to go, etc. I've really enjoyed writing for this site every day (or as often as possible, as the occasion would permit). Sometimes it has been a snap, when coming up with ideas. Other times I've had to push myself to get an idea out there. One little trick has been to keep a running list of things I want to cover and write about, in case the well ran dry or inspiration never struck. As a result, there have been some things I've wanted to do longer posts on but have never been able to fit in to the schedule. So rather than force a bunch of half-hearted ideas and arbitrary posts, I thought I'd just run through them all in one shot, to show what could have been. 


In no particular order, here are the ideas and things I wanted to write about and will be culling from the year's to-do file:


The Goonies - I wrote about the soundtrack, but never mustered the wherewithal to really dig into why I love this childhood staple so much. Still a favorite of mine, all these years later.


Despicable Me - Super fun and overlooked. An adorable, surprisingly funny movie with Steve Carrell and Jason Segel providing voice work. Mad scientists doing wacky stuff.


Ectopiary - A crazy, long running web comic that only gets better and better. Free and not for the faint of heart.


The Elephant Vanishes - A great collection of short stories by one of my favorite authors. Simply too overwhelming to attempt to unpack the myriad of ideas put forth.


Bioshock - This amazing game got me into the modern era of videogames after holding out for about five years. Astounding and groundbreaking in every way. A must play, if you missed it (like I did).


Earthbound - My favorite old school SNES game. The internet already had enough articles about this quirky and idiosyncratic masterpiece.


Lunds Sandwich - No joke. Didn't want to be another food blogger, but this thing had turkey, cranberry mayo, swiss and bacon on cinnamon bread. I was in heaven every time I had it. 


That about does it for 2011. It's been phenomenal for me. Thank you so much for reading. I'll see you on the other side. Happy New Year!

Where We've Been

Evening, gang.


If you're reading this, it's most likely Halloween where you are. I dig. I hope you're having as mega of a day as I am. I spent the previous day recapping the Saturday night hijinks, packing some boxes while watching spooky movies and opening a bottle of Cabernet to enjoy another Treehouse of Horror. Not bad, I have to say. My apartment has no kids, so no trick or treaters for me, to my dismay. I would have fun passing out candy. I would have fun with wine until I pass out, too, but that's not really a Halloween thing. I digress. This year I was a bull, my better half was a matador. Here's me:

Nice, right? Best of all - pretty darn cheap. Total cost? Five bones for the horns. All else was mine. Okay the leg warmers on my arms as hooves were courtesy of my better half. 


So I've written up and down about Spooky Month. I loved it. It gave me a chance to indulge in my spooky side and share some awesome Halloweenish things with the wider world. There are, however, some things that slipped through the cracks. These are the posts I wrote prior to Spooky Month that would have been totally appropriate to cut and paste if I had been short on time and creativity. In no particular order, you should check out:


The Thing and I - a genuinely creepy Treehouse of Horror installment, all set at night in a storm.
Silent Hill 2 - the most terrifying game I've ever played. An emotional trip, to say the least. HD collections for PS3 and 360 due out in January.
Cloverfield - A modern Gojira, my favorite monster movie. It's a crazy post-modern take on terrorist events.
Zombies Ate My Neighbors - An underrated gem for the SNes. A love letter to B Movie madness.
Crimson - Beautifully dark album from the Alkaline Trio. Lush and pulsing punk music to set the mood.
MST3K - The best way to enjoy old B Movies. Snark galore. Laughs abound. Legendary.
Old Boy - Not a horror movie, per se. Still a dark, twisted trip to the most tormented depths of humanity. Yeah.
Silent Hill - My love for a flawed, but well-intentioned cinematic adaptation of the video game series.
You Were Always On My Mind - Getting severely caught off guard by a creepy soundtrack.
Grabbed by the Ghoulies - A forgotten gem from Rare. Super fun and full of simple frights!
Maniac Mansion - One of the first great haunted house games. Packed with point-and-click antics.
House of Leaves - Watch a book eat itself like a snake swallowing its own tail.
World War Z - The definitive record of humanity's war on zombie-kind. A sprawling, epic tome.
I Hear You Calling - A great video by the band Gob with homages to Thriller.

So that about sums it up. It's been a month of scares and jumps, noises in the vents and things lurking around the corner. Hit up the Spooky label on the side bar for more goodness. Otherwise, come November 1st it's back to business as usual here. I've had a blast this past month. Hopefully you have too. I'll try to do more large scale themes in the future. Christmas Conundrum, perhaps?

Skull & Bones

Last book of the month, kids.

Spooky Month has been full of freaky deeky books. There's been children's books that made a lasting impression, comics to make a visual spectacle, some gnarly stories about zombies and plenty of Stephen King. To finish out the week in circuitous fashion, how about a look at my favorite collection of King's short stories? Sound good? All right, then - Skeleton Crew. Published back in 85, the collection is a series of shorts that were all written and published early in the horror writer's career when he was apparently bursting with ideas, this book following on the heels of the collection Night Shift and the novella-grouping of Different Seasons. Skeleton Crew is King at his best, writing bursts of characterization and tossing out horrendous and even offensive ideas, doing so with inspired bits of creativity giving them life.

I first read this book back in 1997, actually on the recommendation of me darling mum. She had recapped a fairly edited and cleaned up version of one of the more remarkable tales in the book, about a man who finds himself stranded on a tiny island with no food and only a bit of water. When pressed for details, instead of relating the grisly bits she drove me to the library. As I mentioned in another King-focused post, it didn't matter what I read, so long as I kept my mind moving. So I checked out Skeleton Crew and devoured it - it quickly became my personal favorite of his short stories collection. Full to the brim with his signature style, the stories here are perfect for getting under your skin for Halloween.

 'Survivor Type', I should explain, is just as remarkable and horrible as I was lead to believe. Related in a series of broken journal entries, the tale of a h smuggler gone wrong is captivating and without an ounce of fat on it. It's a lean, fast-paced story that cuts right to the chase and sucks you in, creating repulsive images in your head as you read. I love just regaling friends with the concept of what happens in it and watching them squirm. Fun cocktail party stuff, for sure. Another iconic tale in the collection, 'The Monkey', evokes more of an inescapable terror but in a more mystical sense. Your classic children's toy becomes an unshakeable omen in impending doom, to the terror of a young man. It seems to have been the inspiration to more than a couple episodes of television, from The X Files to b-movies in MST3K. 'The Jaunt' sees King veering out of his comfort zone into science fiction. In typical fashion, though, he uses the genre as a launching point for some creative concepts and horrible, mind-bending results. The basic premise involves a future in which a form of teleportation has become common practice. The only catch to the revolutionary manner of travel is that the traveler must be unconscious for the jaunt. To be awake would...well, you'll have to read the story to find out, but I have to say, it's one that has always stood out as a high point in short-form fiction. I particularly loved the portion where King relates the scientist creating the technology and experimenting with mice to varying degrees of success.

 I would be remiss if I were to discuss Skeleton Crew without talking about the heavyweight in the bunch - The Mist. This has to be one of my favorite bits of fiction by King, ever. It's one of those things that is somehow able to suggest so much from so little. To long to be a short, too short to be a novel, King leads off the book with this fascinating tale of military experiments gone wrong. Actually, that's never really confirmed in the story, only rumored. You see, there's a man who's community endures a terrible storm. Afterwords, while he waits with his son to get some groceries and supplies while the power is out, a heavy and pervasive mist rolls through, blanketing everything. He and everyone in the store are curious but cautious at this strange development - it's not fog, so what is it? A man bursts in, in a panic, screaming about monsters, things, in the mist. They soon find out he's right. The paranoia and survival instinct-driven mob mentalities that follow are harrowing. King is scarily effective at conjuring up the worst in people who are under the worst circumstances. The hints we get of the creatures and their potential origins are horrifying and fascinating, some of the most memorable fiction I've read. 

So you've stuck with me for the first leg of Spooky Month. You've got plenty of fodder for the rest of the month - something for your kids (but only if they can handle it), something for lighter fare, and some longer stuff to chew through. If you want some quick shots of nasty, bizarre horror - look no further than Skeleton Crew. It's King at his best, when he was young and full of vinegar. Stay tuned for more Spooky stuff. 

Repressed

Alright, here's the thing.


I fully intended on writing up a piece on some of the most disturbing books I read as a kid, all in the name of Spooky Month and this book themed week. I did some research, I looked some stuff up on the ol' Google. Then I started to remember why I blocked out my experiences of reading the books. Then the pictures showed me why I couldn't just post a bunch of them and wipe my hands of this. They were actually really disturbing.


If you were a kid in the last, say, 30 years who enjoyed reading, the odds are you came across Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark. When I was a child the collected Urban Legends and folk tales  were spine chilling. Now I find them to be enjoyable slices of lore that distill what unnerves us. The drawings that accompanied them were as disturbing then as they are now, to the point that just seeing pictures of them online brings me back to the discomfort and terror I felt as a child. Having read other people's recollections of their experiences and their disbelief at how the images compare with any other children's books, I am obviously just one of many who have been traumatized by this short lived series.

Written and compiled by Alvin Schwartz, the books all tell tales that are brief and to the point. There are classic Urban  Legends like the Man with the Hook Hand or the Unseen Hitchhiker in the Backseat or the Roommate who was Dead All Along. There are folktales of the uncanny and the taboo - tales of songs and chants and things to ward off evil. Again, these are not the most bone-chilling reads as an adult, more capsular versions of our horror movies. As a child - I slept more than a night or two on the floor of my parents room, feeling safe in their presence. 

The illustrations accompanying the collected writings are by Stephen Gammell, who has a long and celebrated career as an illustrator for children's books. Having over fifty books to his name, it's a bit of a wonder this series stands out the way it does in his career. Once you see them, though, it becomes a question of forgetting them rather than remembering them. The surreal and deformed, decaying figures are uncanny in the worst possible way. They are things of remarkable artistry, there is no question of that - they are so well made, though, that you can't help but shudder just a bit as you see some of the more...inspired...creations.


These books terrified me. If you think your kids can handle it, by all means let them have at them. But please, err on the side of safety. If you read them as a kid, conquer one of your old fears. Spooky Month! 

Desperate Measures

Hola, gang.


Let's just cut right to the chase, shall we? 


As I have made it abundantly clear, I do love me some Stephen King. For better or worse, I'm hooked on his relentless writing, all character based and paired up with other-worldly horrors. It may not be the most high minded and literary for those of us that still enjoy the written word, but man if it isn't habit forming. It all began years ago.


I"m pretty sure Desperation was the first book of King's that I read. There's the possibility that it was Needful Things but that cold winter year was so damn unpleasant that I tend to run together or straight up block out some of the memories. I was a miserable little pissant in middle school, I recall that much. My older brother had either sneaked home a book of King's or just slipped it under the parent's watchful radar. He could be plenty convincing when he wanted to be. Whatever the case, I picked up Desperation out of curiosity, having heard his conversations with our neighbor Ryan over the messed up thematic elements and horrible occurances. My morbid litte mind was more than just a bit curious, I'll confess. The illicit nature of the book was soon lost on my hungry mind - I was so desperate to keep reading that I thought nothing of bringing the book to school, sneaking the 700+ page book into my stack of required texts. I still remember Ms. Zubrowski asking me if my parents knew I was reading such gruesome fodder. I smiled and nodded, saying "They don't mind, as long as I'm reading."

In what was perhaps a harbinger of things to come, Desperation was both an examination of faith and a tale of evil things setting their sights on mankind. I was struck, as a young adult, by the honest and frustrated take on religion and nature of God that King took in the novel. On top of the angst-ridden diatribes were the nihilistic attacks on humanity as seen through the ancient deity Tak. In a way, they set the tone for my appreciation for horror literature and my rationalization for the world around me - awful, incomprehensible things may happen on any given day, but they do not mean I have to lie down and accept them. I am not just a reaction to the world but a presence in it, one that can shape it as it happens. 

The plot of the book is actually fairly simple - a long forgotten and malevolent evil is released from its imprisonment beneath the ground in the desert. It begins leaping from person to person, killing and consuming everything in its path as it continues marauding through the desert. When the ancient entity inhabits the hulking body of a local sheriff, it uses the man's authority and power to capture a group of people travelling through the local township. These people are find themselves imprisoned by the sheriff as a result of his con, and soon find themselves tasked with combating the demonic force. What ensues is a confrontation with evil, faith and one's own fallibility. It's a moving book.

Desperation is not one of King's highest regarded works. I'm willing to overlook that, though, as it has always been one of my favorites, if only for it being one of my earlier experiences. There's plenty of horror to go around here - animals being possessed, inhuman acts of violence, wanton destruction and an absence of the divine. Desperation is filled with the lonesome scares of the wilderness that draw on our sense of the natural world aligning with the gods against us. It set me on a new path when I was a teenager, one full of peculiar tales with distinct characters. Give it a read for a Southwestern taste of torture. 

Dead & Loving It

This literary introduction to Spooky Month won't be all King.

A couple years back a kind and generous family member had bestowed upon me a gift card to a major book retailer. It's always been known in my family that I was a voracious reader, a fact that has always been embraced and cultivated. What was not known, however, was that as my tastes developed they also tended to turn and decay ever so slightly. While I would whip through my high school homework with ease I would also find the weirdest and most divergent books to make my mind stretch and expand. In college, in addition to carving out time for philosophy texts, I would also devote too much of my time indulging in schlock and pulp, loads of comics and King. Sure, some of it was to blow off steam after exams or kill time on flights before the days of iPads. But let's be honest here, people - I love a good ol' grimy horror story. So when I was looking through the nationally known purveyor of the written word, I stumble upon something I had to have. It was awesome. It was huge. It was all about zombies.

The Living Dead collection, compiled and edited by John Joseph Adams, is a massive tome. Touting contributors from all over the spectrum, there are some big names between the covers. King makes an appearance, naturally, as does his son, Joe Hill. They're almost expected, sure, but there are also fantastic tales from the likes of Neil Gaiman, Clive Barker, George R.R. Martin, even Poppy Brite. The authors here are all at their freewheeling best, writing unconstrained by potentially offended or sensitive palates. The stories are all unflinching and raw, the plots and backdrops going for gusto. It's not a collection of essays on the first time they saw a scary movie. No, these are stories that delve deep into the meat of a good zombie tale - horrible, unspeakable (but well written) things happen. Worlds perish. People are c. It's grimy. It's gritty. It's hard to enjoy while eating dinner.

The stories are all unique and all strong enough to stand on their own. King's is a collection of all his hallmarks - your classic Romero-type outbreak in a small island town in Maine, complete with ordinary people dealing with horrendous things. Gaiman's is also identifiably his, with lots of quirks of humanity and touches of personality that make the scenes and people come to life, despite the overwhelming presence of death. There's a fascinating examination of the potential abuse of the political system in light of the deceased being granted the right to vote. The implications of Dale Bailey's story are mind blowing, it's a must-read for anyone interested in our current political mess, let alone fans of the undead. The tragic and heartbreaking tale of adolescent influence, 'The Dead Kid' by Darrell Schweitzer, still stays with me now, a moving and disturbing piece of fiction. George R. R. Martin paints huge vistas of dying and decaying worlds, telling a story of machinery and tech gone inhuman.

I have to say this book is unlike anything else I've ever read. I picked it up years before the whole zombie resurgence reared up. Now we have critically acclaimed television series, more video games than I can count and legions of films celebrating this micro genre of horror. While it was definitely ascending at the time, it was not the omnipresent force that it is today. I'm not claiming some 'cooler than the fad, in before it was popular' hipsterism, I'm just explaining that it was an eye opening gift from the world of fiction to have such an awesomely brutal collection of stories like The Living Dead. Give it a read, if you can stomach it. Just don't read it while you eat your lunch at the office. You might end up a vegetarian. 

Life Or Death

Already one post in and I'm thinking this is gonna be a long month.

I'm all about Halloween, Spooky things and the macabre. Sometimes, though, the subject matter presented in some of this freaky-deeky fiction gets the best of me. While I would love nothing more than to spend a week making emphatic recommendations about Stephen King's career, this one bums me out the more I think about it. It might have something to do with the fact that I just spent Sunday night watching a movie with my cat sleeping in my arms, but man...here we go.

Pet Semetary is some uncanny business. I mean that in the most straight-forward sense. Published back in 1983, the books is about a family in Maine (duh) who move to a rural homestead not far from the titular cemetery. Kind neighbors show them the lay of the land and get them set up in their new life as country folk, but also show them the local pet cemetery as part of the surrounding area. Louis Creed is okay with letting his children learn about the circle of life, his wife is less than okay with it. A busy county highway in front of their house forces their hand in the matter when their cat, Church, is struck down by a semi. Louis, not wanting to upset the balance of his family at a fragile time, makes the kind elderly neighbor Jud take him past a dead-fall at the border of the pet cemetery, into land that has been avoided due to its...strange properties. Known to the local Native American inhabitants as sour ground, their have been legends and tales of things being buried that come back to life. The catch is that the things that come back...come back...wrong. As the neighbor cautions "Sometimes dead is better". It only gets worse from there.

I remember seeing the movie adaptation of Pet Semetary on USA back in the mid 90s, when I was much more easily scared. I'm pretty sure it was broad daylight, but I was definitely disturbed by the images and concepts put forth. Dale Midkiff (who is somehow not Gary Sinise, despite my mind's fervent insistence) put in a great performance in the movie, particularly when a horrible tragedy befalls his family. Fred Gwynne plays Jud! How can you not enjoy that little twist of casting - it's Herman Munster! Anyway, the movie is not a bad adaptation of the book, having aged considerably well for the time and production values. I'd recommend it if you won't read the book.

Honestly, though? Read the book. You get so much more creep factor than you do with the movie. The movie is more of a drama, where as the book is out-and-out disturbingly developing horror. It builds so well. King puts you into Creed's head so well, you begin to understand his rationalization for his actions, even as you think he's off his rocker. What starts as a quiet tale of a family settling in to a new home quickly goes off the rails into a world of old gods and things in the woods that laugh at our assumptions. I still get the willies when thinking about some of what King suggests stalks the woods in Maine. All of this on top of the most repulsive ideas of the uncanny make for an unforgettably creepy tale. 

See how we do this? I might get a little squeamish at my own favorites, but as soon as I start to retread that familiar territory I remember why I get so excited and evangelical in the first place. You have to read this book if you want some horror for October. It's all about walks through the woods in the country, dead leaves and empty trees all around. Believable and relatable characters endure the worst things King can conjure. Nasty stuff. Just look both ways before crossing the street. 

New Signal

Spooky, gang.

This is a whole month of spooky. 

I've mentioned since returning from my honeymoon how I wanted to do larger themed projects for this site. This was one of the first things I thought of - a whole month (October, natch) centered around the freaky-deeky. Halloween is my favorite holiday, hands down. I love fall, I love the macabre, I love the costumes, I love the mystery, I love the night. Can not get enough of it, no joke. All of the month of October will be focusing on my favorite spooky things that I feel are deserving of more love and accolades - a week of books, a week of music, a week of shows and a week of movies. There's probably gonna be a lot of zombies. Also, a lot of Simpsons. Just warning you.

So - where do we start? 

October 1st, naturally. On October 1st in Stephen King's Cell, all is well with the world. Graphic novelist Clay Ridell has sold his idea to a popular independent label and he looks forward to seeing his young son. Without warning, the world loses its collective mind. The peaceful afternoon is shattered by planes crashing, cars colliding and people violently, and without provocation, tearing each other to pieces. While it's not apparent at first, the cause is soon traced to a widespread signal, a single call, spread through the world's cell network. The signal, from unspecified origin, effectively wipes out the higher functions in the mind, reducing all who hear it into aggressive, dangerous beasts. Society collapses in a moment and Clay is on the run, banding together with a few other stragglers and late-adopters to the common tech. As their group of surviving unaffected head north to an area supposedly without cell signal, the people affected begin to change, to demonstrate flocking behavior. It only gets crazier and more panicked as the tale unfolds.

Cell is a book that starts with a bang and explores the aftershocks. It's a short jaunt for King, clocking in at just 354 pages, a third the size of some of his larger works. The pace in the beginning is frenetic and scrambled, effectively throwing the reader into the chaos ensuing from a novel manner of terrorism or warfare. It's an interesting concept which serves as a strong jumping-off point for King, allowing him to play with the idea and expand it in horrible ways. From the pace and creative concept, it's not unlike Crichton or other tech-centered authors while summoning concepts and carnage owing to the zombie-auteur George Romero. Sure, it lags a bit as the characters spend a sizeable chunk of the book on foot, but the plot developments are always surprising and captivating. 

If you have any stomach for grisly horror or want some classic-styled but freshly energetic King for Halloween, read Cell. It's not one of his bigger works, but it's a passionately written book that's genuinely frightening and original. It's gripping from the word go - a page turner if there ever was one. This manic tale of technology gone rogue is just the opening salvo in my month of Spooky Stuff. Stay tuned to stay scared. You're gonna love it.

Parental Records

The more the years go by, the more I see the influence of my father in my life.

Sure, this seems painfully obvious to an outsider observing two inherently link specimens, one the genetic and causal result of the other. But to one of the animals inside the experiment, the nature of the situation is not so readily apparent. Furthermore, the opening statement could be more appropriately phrased as: The more the years go by, the more I see how my life is shaped from what I take from my father. This understanding has come into sharper focus for me in the more recent years, but most identifiably as I read through a book he had picked up over the course of my wedding weekend. The book, Fire and Rain by David Browne, is a look at the state of the world of popular music in 1970 and how it shaped and was shaped by four entities - The Beatles, CSNY, Simon & Garfunkel and James Taylor. My experience in reading the book was no doubt shaped by my relationship with my father; my understanding of it colored not only how I perceived the music but how I perceived the reading experience itself. Both were revelatory, but I gained more from my burgeoning clarity than I did from the book.

Don't get me wrong - Fire and Rain is an interesting read, it just lacks teeth at times. It was fascinating for me to gain an understanding and clearer perspective on things that I had little or unfocused comprehension. While in town for my wedding, my dad decided to pass a rare lull in the action by wandering around a book store, something I'm more than a little pleased to see is an inherited trait. Having an appreciation for the artists studied in this book (like anyone his age, one could fathom) he picked it up as some light reading material for the evening and finished it while I was off on my honeymoon. When I visited them earlier this fall, he casually mentioned it as entertaining and insightful, not too challenging given the wide scope of the book. Always looking for more fodder, as well as a chance to share something with my father, I took him up on it and read through it this past week. As I said, it was an interesting, if light, read - pretty much his take on it, from what he's told me.

To be honest, sitting on the bus and reading his book 100 miles away gave me the same feeling I got from pinching his record collection when I went off to college. A neighbor of mine left me a gently used, but still serviceable, stereo that actually had a turntable built in with its modern components. Knowing his LPs weren't getting much action at home, I MAY have asked to borrow them. They also may have just ridden along with my stuff that was still boxed up from freshman year. The point is, I had been listening to his vinyl since I was about 14 and had first gotten the itch to figure out what this Led Zepplin business was all about, anyway. Some of my favorite times in college were spent sitting in my apartment with my then-girlfriend-now-wife and other friends, goofing off and drinking while spinning his original pressings by The Stones, CSNY, Eric Clapton and even Kool & The Gang. They really did sound different from the horrible, pirated mp3s we'd all grown accustomed to, and it was a distinct badge of honor to answer questions of origin with "Oh these? These are all my dad's records."

In addition to the sense of connection I gained from reading David Browne's book, I also gained a much stronger understanding of the world of music that I took for granted. It sounds foolish but with so many revered bands existing around the same time, it was strange to think of them as having overlapping careers. To read that Bridge Over Troubled Water came out the same year as James Taylor's Sweet Baby James kind of made sense when you hear them on the radio; to know that came out the same year The Beatles dissolved was a fresh context, though. Further, I found it surprising to realize the Kent State shootings happened and that CSNY's 'Ohio' was written almost immediately in response - the freewheeling 60s had come to an abrupt end and that song seemed to legendary to be almost dashed-off in a matter of less than 20 minutes. I had no idea that James Taylor, the gentle artist he always was, had not only had debilitating d a but also had himself committed on several occasions. Those kind of realizations change the way you see an artist as well as their canon of work. It became much more apparent why CSNY barely held together, as well as the notion that The Beatles had no choice but to pack it in, they didn't function as a unit anymore. Also? Not necessarily Yoko's fault. Shows you what old punch-lines and cliches really teach you.

These were musicians I've heard my whole life, through my dad playing them in the house (or the car, more likely) or from oldies stations. Knowing that they were real people, not just legends already on pedestals, made them (and their music, of course) much more relatable. Reading about Paul Simon fretting over his premature hair loss was endearing and humanizing. Learning that James Taylor was kind of nuts made him more appealing as an artist, frankly. I've only known him as the balding and gruff old man who plays folk songs. Getting a sense of who he was as a young man (and the troubles he endured) deepened my appreciation greatly. Reading all this knowing that Black Sabbath, Led Zepplin and Devo were right around the corner was just as illuminating as anything else in the book.

It's all about context. The history in the book, my relationship with my father, whatever you do in life. Understanding the larger picture makes such a monumental difference. My father is a man of self-discipline who still reads for pleasure - I've always read voraciously but only in the last few years has my control over my life really come into shape. My love of running absolutely ties back into his. Funnily enough, he hardly ever spoke of it, he just did it every morning. That seems to be a more effective way to ingrain a lesson into your kids - no lectures, just show 'em how it's done. He's told me before of his love of a good harmony, a peculiarity I also share with him (thus the CSNY, I guess). My musical roots fall squarely into his domain, as well. Reading this book helped me understand that. I'm glad he let me borrow it - unlike his records, I plan on returning it. 

Your Friend Rob

I mentioned recently that I've been chewing my way through an unusually high number of books as of late. I know a number of the reviews of books I've done have been centered around Murakmi or American horror authors, so it has been quite a novel experience to switch gears and read a little more science fiction than I normally would. Max Barry's Machine Man was a mind-bending look at the development of technology and personal augmentation that whetted my thirst for more tales of people coping with the pace of modern science. I had to have more. It feels great to have all the brain food feeding right into my mental processor. All the jokes about brains and computers, though, become much less amusing when reading the last book I finished, Daniel Wilson's Robopocalypse.

 Laying out a theoretical description of a robot uprising in our near future, the book is Wilson's second major foray into fiction (the first being A Boy and His Bot, released earlier this year). Wilson, wielding a degree in robotic engineering from Carnegie Mellon, paints a disturbingly plausible series of events that would see the unseating of man as the dominant species on the planet. The book, released in June, has received widespread acclaim from the literary world and enjoyed high volume of sales, drawing comparisons to the works of a young Michael Crichton. It's a fast, gripping read that had me hooked just from the premise, let alone the plot - come on, robots rising up and overthrowing their masters? How could I not love this?

As stated, Robopocalypse takes place in a world just a few years advanced from ours. Society hasn't undergone massive changes in the novel, just ones that are quite insightful and highly probable, benefitting from Wilson's expertise on the subject. Cars have chips and programming to guide the movement as a form of collision prevention. Androids are utilized to a greater extent both in combat and personal care, like in retirement communities and the service industry. There are small changes like this that build a world slightly more advanced than ours that makes what happens quite frightening. Scientists working deep underground (literally and figuratively) have been creating more and more advanced iterations of artificial intelligence in supposed isolation. When an iteration referred to as Archos realizes its previous incarnations have repeatedly been terminated it takes advantage of a minuscule oversight and propagates its coding and operation throughout the global infrastructure. From this point on, Archos is exploring the world and preparing to take over using our own technology and tools, as a way of asserting its existence and sentience.When Archos finally strikes, the world comes to a terrifying halt - people are hunted down by smart cars, marched into elevator shafts and attacked by anything capable of striking. Cities are no longer safe and humankind either goes into hiding or flees into the countryside where "Rob" (as they derisively refer to artificial combatants) can't confidently tread. People begin to aggregate and form militias, working together to take back what remains of civilization. Horrendous discoveries are made, as atrocities are being committed in Archos' quest for understanding of life and what the world is. When a crucial change occurs in a detainment camp, a band of survivors beneath New York start to turn the tables. Using uncanny tools and morally repugnant methods, an offensive is launched and the largest army in America is soon marching on Archos's lair in the frozen tundra of Alaska. What occurs there is...well, you'll have to read it to find out.

Wilson writes with a flair for humanity, creating believable, real people to pull the reader into the fascinating and fantastic story. It's not all robots and machine guns, either - quite a large portion of Robopocalypse is spent examining life as it would exist under the watchful eye a super-intelligent construct. In fact, some of the passages I found most engaging and suspenseful were the ones leading up to 'Zero Hour' when Archos makes its move. Seeing the intelligence feel out the world around it in small, exploratory moves and attacks (that are assumed to be defects or quirks of programming) are terrifying both for the impending carnage and the fact that we would be just as blind to the developments in reality as we would in Wilson's novel. As you read you begin to glance around at the tech that fills our lives, from the smart cars we drive to the databanks in San Cupertino that know our every move - we are entirely dependant on machines that are more interconnected than we think. If one were to slap faces on the machines we interact with in our daily lives, from self-checkouts to GPS units to cleaning and service bots, we'd suddenly realize we're living in the future but don't see the forest for the trees. Robots are already all around us, we just don't think of them as being so. To us, a face is everything.

Robopocalypse is a terrific read - it's intelligent, insightful, emotionally valid and has a tense, suspenseful plot. If you're looking for something keep you up at night, give it a read. I look forward to seeing more from Wilson. 

Metal Head

What's the word?

I've written almost exclusively about music, as of late. It's not a bad thing, I just feel like I'm getting into a routine. Sometimes you have to switch it up - sometimes you need to change your usual habits so you don't sink into the same old pattern. Ironically I've never been more well read while listening to the least amount of music. Lately I've been throwing myself into novels and articles as fast as I can finish them, while only picking a single musical element to dissect and then posting on it. There was a time when this ratio was inverted - I've always been a voracious reader, it just hasn't always been this indulged.

It feels great, to be honest. 

When coupled with posting every day and poking along on a novel I'm slowly finishing, it feels like there is a long dormant muscle in my mind that's finally getting a workout. I may not be as adventurous musically, as I normally am, but I feel much more satisfied from reading more books than organizing and writing about more albums. One of the most enjoyable, bizarre experiences in this latest wave of books has been Machine Man by Max Barry. It was a fast and freaky read, but thoroughly enjoyable every step of the way. Originally the author, in a forward thinking attempt to satisfy his audience's demands, wrote the story as a single page, five days a week, on his blog. This truncated his story greatly but forced him to tell it in a creative, collaborative environment. Readers could comment on and thus inform the plot as it unfolded. Due to the nature of the medium, however, it couldn't be too detailed or engaging, so when he finished the original iteration of the story he went back and revised it to fill in the gaps and flesh it out.

It's a crazy, far out tale. In Machine Man, lab tech and engineer Charles Neumann loses his leg in an industrial accident. When faced with the sad state of prosthetics he had to choose from, he set about designing his own new leg. Unlimited by the constraints of biological necessity, he develops some novel, if intimidating legs as replacement. Unfortunately for Charles, they work better as a pair than as a single leg. Thus begins a harrowing descent into self-amputation, bleeding edge tech and the intellectual property rights and ethical motivations of corporations. By the time you get to the denoumount of the revised novel, you're shaken and disturbed by the journey and subsequent transformation.

This book was an insane ride. I honestly whipped through it in just over three days. I devoured it. Barry's writing style is accessible and human, despite the uncanny subject matter. The intensity and pace of the blog-post pulsing is intact, only with more nuance and subtlety. He took a divergent path from his online version when revising the plot, but it makes no difference in the end - it's a fantastic book, one I would emphatically recommend to anyone remotely interested in scientific progress or tech.

Noses in Books

...and so ends Book Worm Week.

It's been a fantastic journey into the imagination, gang. I love reading, there's nothing quite like sitting down with a great book and whiling away an afternoon, especially when it's raining outside or if you've opened a nice bottle of wine. You just kick your feet up, sit back and get lost in a world that assembles gradually in front of your mind's eye, bit by bit. As much as I enjoy TV or a good movie, the written word is so simple and essential, such a vital part of being human that has such a profound effect on how we see the world. Books are able to transport us, both through stories and new ideas, to places we would never dream of. It brings me so much joy to know there are people out there who still love a good book. Hey, doesn't even have to be a book - the first thing I bought for a kindle was The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, appropriately enough. Although I suppose my phone would be The Guide, instead of a kindle. Regardless, people (even American people) still love to read. To wrap up Book Worm Week here's everything I've posted about the written word:

Sleepwalk With Me - Mike Birbiglia's hilarious and touching stories about sleep disorders, interspersed with comedy.

Simpsons/Futurama Crossover Crisis - a bizarre and super-fun comic that sees two great things mashed together.

Calvin & Hobbes - the smartest comic strip ever to grace the funny pages, in my humble opinion.

A Dirty Job - Christopher Moore at his best, in a tale of a man having to do horrible things to save the world.

The Stand - Stephen King's take on an American Lord of the Rings. Simply phenomenal.

Fluke - Another Moore novel, this time about whales and secrets and hidden evolution. Mind bending.

Sin Titulo - A free web-comic that tells a trippy and engaging story, absolutely worth a look.

Norwegian Wood - Haruki Murakami, the rock star of Japan, tells a sad and poignant tale of loss and love.

A Wild Sheep Chase - More Murakami, this time a surreal gum-shoe story about missing sheep.

Dance, Dance, Dance - The sequel to Sheep Chase, just as good and just as weird.

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle - Still more Murakami, now even weirder and more emotional.

House of Leaves - The trippy meta narrative about a book about a book about a movie about a house.

Bossypants - Tina Fey's hysterical and insightful memoirs about being the boss of everyone.

Next - Michael Crichton's bleeding-edge look at a harrowing future full of ethical genetic dilemmas.

Batman: Year One - The best Batman comic ever, told in a believable fashion. Really. I swear.

The Long Halloween - The followup, which served as a basis for The Dark Knight. Phenomenal.

World War Z - The best damn book about Zombies and the end of the real world you'll ever read. I swear.

That is the full list of my verbal devotions. I love reading, as long as I have time for it. I hope you do, too. It feels like, when you really get hooked by a good book, you're feeding your brain, giving it sustenance that TV and pop culture can't. Then again, half of that list is comics and comedians, so what do I know? Regardless, I'm happy to know anyone would take a recommendation. Thanks for sticking out another themed week. Tomorrow it's back to the usual tricks. I'll see you on the flip side!