Bookworm

In an attempt to get back into the normal routine I thought I would write a favorite book of mine, A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore. Published in 2006, the book was a gift that exposed me to the hilarious and twisted worlds and characters Mr. Moore creates in order to tell his stories. 

Christopher Moore has been plugging away for years, slowly building a devoted fan base that is capable of making his works known on the bestsellers lists, yet I so rarely hear of anyone else enjoying his work, which seems criminal in my mind. He is simply too talented and warped not to have garnered more mainstream acclaim, yet here I am, writing as though he's an undiscovered gem. Perhaps this is due more to the (supposed) decline of book-devouring in my generation and younger, or maybe I just don't go to book clubs or share my reading interests with enough people. I have, however, seen the occasional fellow bus patron apparently enjoying other books of his, so I know he is at least marginally renowned. Alas, here I am, prattling on about an author you must know about and feeling unsure of whether or not I'm peddling a well-known commodity. 

Regardless - A Dirty Job!

The story revolves around Charlie Asher, one of many of Moore's 'Beta-males' who go through life worrying about every minute detail possible. A devoted, if  slightly neurotic, husband, Charlie loses his wife as she gives birth to their first child and is left to deal with his loss as he learns to be a father. Pressing on with his life and burgeoning fatherhood, he throws himself into the routine of running his second-hand store in San Francisco and finds himself, through a twist of fate I won't divulge here, becoming a harbinger of Death. Not in the sense of cloak and scythe, mind you, but as a soul collector whose karmic duty is to harvest a 'soul object' from those who are nearly or recently deceased, so that it might be imparted to the soul's next host or incarnation via his store's customers. It's a fairly novel twist on the idea of protagonists not only doing Death's job, but on the operation of Karma or Wheel of Reincarnation. Interestingly Moore displays a depth of knowledge throughout the book in regards to various cultures take on death and loss, from witty observances of the comforting nature of deli trays at funerals to the universality of themes of reincarnation and learning from past experiences. Clearly Moore is an author who puts a great deal of thought and research into each of his novels. 

Charlie's duty as a soul-collector is not one without bumps in the road, however. There is a looming shadow on the horizon, literally and figuratively, and his uneven success at his new job begins to manifest in the resurgence of some nefarious forces that would love nothing more than to destroy the world. His baby girl also starts to display new and unusual behavior, and Charlie begins to suspect she may be the reincarnation of the Grim Reaper himself, complete with oversized Hell Hounds as guard dogs. Through his own growing sense of confidence and purpose Charlie fights back against the forces of darkness and journeys under the streets of San Francisco to face this evil head on, Hell Hounds in tow. While I won't spoil the ending, I will say that it was both enjoyable and well-written, if only a tad predictable. Lessons are learned, characters are struck down on both sides and a clear victor emerges. An excellent read all around.

Moore stands out in the literary community not only for his unusual ideas but for his sense of humor and ability to create sight gags with the written word. I recall vividly thinking, the first time I read this book, that it was the first time I had actually laughed out loud, not just a smirk or chortle, but genuine, honest to God laughter, sitting alone in my apartment. Everything from sly puns and clever wordplay to absurd physical comedy that rarely if ever comes across as contrived, Moore displays a natural ability to channel his sense of humor onto the page. His characters are genuine and relatable, as well, despite the fantastical nature of the plot. The reader is able to identify with and become attached to the people he's filled his world with. 

A Dirty Job was my first foray into the wonderful and weird world of Christopher Moore. I've absolutely savored his back catalogue and plan on writing up his other novels in the future. The more I read of his work, the more I appreciated his style (mon dieux I promise that pun is, in no way, intentional). You can find his books here, along with his online presence and devoted following. If you read any fiction at all, do yourself a favor and check out A Dirty Job. 

The Days Are Just Packed

Good afternoon!

After giving a truncated update yesterday I wanted to take the holiday to post two pieces today. Le premier piece continues from yesterday's segue, namely the genius and sorely missed Calvin and Hobbes.

The creation of the talented and reclusive Bill Watterson, the strip ran in national papers from 1985 - 1995 and featured six year old Calvin (no last name given) and his life with the stuffed but lively tiger Hobbes. It was the rare jewel of the comics section that was at times sweet, goofy, insightful, mischievous and philosophical. For a taste of what no longer is, check out this excellent sample of selected pieces.

My own predilection for (often unintentional) critical thinking no doubt had its roots in my childhood devouring of the strip. Calvin would ruminate on such esoteric ideas as why scientists had dubbed a magnificent and dynamic theory on the creation of existence itself something as dry and clinical like 'The Big Bang', offering his own preferred title - The Horrendous Space Kablooie. It makes me smile to know the Calvin's alternative actually has caught on in some scientific communities. Other times the story would stretch out over days of strips, such as the sprawling tale of snowmen-come-to-life "Attack of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons." To this day I can't see a snowman without picturing Calvin's wonderfully disturbed creations. While the strip ran the seasons along with the rest of the world, Watterson seemed to really take joy in creating the winter comics. Tales of sledding and snowball fights shaped my understanding of what winter can be. I may not be out cross country skiing everyday, but given the chance and proper snow, I'd leap at the chance to construct my own bizarre snowmen.

The strip pictured above stands out as a particular bench mark for what the series had to offer. There's no joke, no humor to be found at all, really. It shows how Watterson's characters can not only make you laugh but be taken seriously as well, without coming across as self-aggrandizing or preachy. The dynamic style of Calvin and Hobbes makes them standout from the scenery, despite the stark setting. Just the first frame is worthy of critique - the bird is drawn as real-to-life, as it he were trying to show the reader that the strip would be more "real" than a story about the duplicator box or tormenting girl-next-door Susie Derkins (one of the few examples of a last name). There's an underlying sadness present, but it isn't hopeless. It's the melancholy of life, that there is joy in sorrow, or a give and take that we assume things make sense when we're older and we wince at a precocious six year old assuming the world will one day make sense. 

Then again, there is always the delightfully absurd sight gag like the strip above, which is so simple and Dada-esqe that it verges on a non sequitur. The blank expression on Calvin's face is absolutely priceless. In sharp contrast to the above comic, this strip illustrates the flip side of the sense of humor.

And here we have a summation of the elements described above - winter, humor, eccentric views. 

This comic was so smart and witty, it was a painful loss when Watterson retired his widely loved pair. If you have the chance, pick up one of his compilations. The collected works could serve as a veritable doorstop, but you can't beat having them all in one place. Smaller volumes make it more digestible and easier to leaf through. I guarantee you'll chuckle to yourself as you flip through the pages. Trust me. 

Late Night

Bon Soir!


It is currently 20 minutes to midnight as I type this and I have had a rather long day, so in the interest of appeasing the God of Sleep I'll keep this brief.


To clarify the establishment of tabs at the top o' the blog, Warm Fuzzy Viewings will detail my obsession with very particular settings in visual fiction. In particular, things that are set in:

• Rainstorms
• Blizzards
• Night Time
• Secret Passages

I can't put my finger on why these things fascinate my brain, but whenever I'm watching a show or a movie at night and it utilizes these elements, preferably together, there is some strange part of my brain that is firing at an increased rate. It's not unlike the rush of imagination a child gets when being handed a cardboard box.

Stay tuned for updates. Anything from Simpsons episodes, Batman comics, Dickens novels or Halloween specials. Probably mostly Simpsons episodes...

What I should have said was nothing...

Last night I finished reading Sleepwalk with Me. It's a charmingly disarming collection of personal anecdotes from Mike Birbiglia which incorporates elements of both his one man show of the same title, and longer, more intricate versions of some of his bits from his comedy career.

I first found out about Monsieur Birbiglia from the strange and wonderful stand-up compilation Invite Them Up, wherein he has ten minutes of very witty material. Mike is the kind of comedian that makes you think "Maybe there are some very funny people in my life that just haven't been given the proper forum..." I say this because he makes me think of quiet coworkers that one day say something in just the right manner that you realize "Oh my God, this guy is hysterical, how is he not harnessing this untapped ability?" The good thing is that Mike was also aware of this and has made a varied and prolific career out of being charming and funny. His albums are fantastic, not a bit of filler on them. He's also contributed pieces to This American Life on a semi-consistent basis, as well as The Moth Podcast, each time displaying his seemingly innate ability to make the incredibly personal quite relatable.


In his book Sleepwalk with Me he jumps around in roughly autobiographic order, sharing stories that both explain who he is and where his jokes and perspectives originate. For a comedy fan like myself it was astoundingly enjoyable to see in greater detail where his bits had their roots. It was refreshingly honest, especially for today's world of unending irony and hipper-than thou self awareness. Reading Mike's book, you feel like it's just a friend of yours telling you about his life as though you'd known someone a long time but had never really learned about their history. He has a very unique way of telling a story, with an amusingly drawling diction that, when read in that same voice, is very much like he's in the room with you. I just can't say enough positive things about this book. Hey, it's even a quick read, which is a nice change of pace from some of the more esoteric door-stops I've tackled lately.


The book itself is derived from his one man show that centers around a particularly traumatic incident. It stems from a sleep disorder in which his body still moves and acts out his dreams even though it should be still (Sleepwalking, duh). On my initial read-through I was uncertain how he chose the structure and framing device for all of the isolated anecdotes, until I reached the final chapter. It then dawned on me that the entire book is an incredibly detailed preamble/back-story for this one bad incident. Upon realizing this, my head exploded.


That's why he's a great story teller - you don't realize you've been led down a prim-rose path until you're in the thick of it and suddenly it becomes apparent that everything has been set in particular places on purpose and there was little, if any, wasted space. His ability to share the devastatingly honest and painful parts of his childhood, all the way to his professional endeavors (and failures) makes you appreciate the fact that he has found success on his terms. Birbiglia knows his strengths and his weaknesses and has made both work for his life's purpose.


In particular, there is a story from the latter half of the book he shared on the Moth podcast, in which he details the painful and difficult (as though there's any other kind) end to a long and meaningful relationship. It's an experience that reminds the reader how breakups are hard on us not just for the loss of a relationship, but that we may be holding someone back from being a better person. Thankfully I've been in a wonderful and committed relationship for years, but it's a reminder that you should always strive to be the best person you can, not just for yourself but to allow those you love to grow to be the people they want to be as well. Reading it (and hearing him tell it, which made it even more funny and uncomfortable, simultaneously) made me appreciate the better half that I'd found, and I am thankful every day that I have someone so wonderful to share my life with.


It's a good thing when you pick up a book looking for a fun and quick read, only to put it down in the end with the realization that you've learned something about yourself through another person's experience.