Showing posts with label stephen king. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stephen king. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

#IWSG – MARCH 2016 CHECK-IN


The last couple of months have been rather hairy; lots of wonderful things have happened and, some not so wonderful things have happened as well. I've been writing sporadically, but have been trying to keep up on deadlines; so far that has also been sporadic; #IWSG is easier at this time (for you #ROW80 folks who wonder what happened), but I've been practicing more and reading a lot for the language and tone.

Currently, I'm reading two different books that couldn't be more unalike in tone and gravity, but both are simply wonderful. I'm reading “11/22/63” by Stephen King, recommended by a dear friend.

courtesy:www.liljas-library.com      

11/22/63” is so much like the Stephen King of old. It is fraught with suspense and the atmosphere of the 60s is captured perfectly by King, and his language is again beautiful. His characterizations are sharp and he has lost the coyness that pissed me off in his later works. You cannot help but feel for Jake as he tries his damnedest to foil an assassination that will change the world completely. And as Al, Jake's mentor says, “With Kennedy alive, there would be no Viet Nam, no Watergate”, and that lends a desperate quality to Jake's actions, but he's always thinking and trying to stay one step ahead. But, not having finished it yet, I have no idea what the foiling of Oswald's plan will bring about in the present day.

courtesy:www.goodreads.com                                        

The Fourth Hand” by John Irving, is much like “A Son of the Circus” in tone, which I enjoyed immensely. Irving can take the most absurd situations and make them hilarious, even when they're really pretty tragic. This book involved Patrick Wallingford, or “the lion-guy” as everyone calls him, after he has his left hand bitten off, fought over and eaten by a pack of hungry circus lions in India, while on assignment. It doesn't get any better for Patrick, or "disaster man" when he takes an assignment in Japan and his clothes are “sent for a day to the Philippines, because that always happens”, according to his Japanese hosts. “They are only misplacing, they will be back.” says one of the hosts. They come back, but apparently, the Customs Agents used drug-sniffing dogs and they pissed all over his clothes, so Irving refers to Wallingford's clothes as “pissed on by Filipino dogs clothing” throughout the rest of this trip. Wallingford is used to all of this and just sort of goes along with anything that happens to him.

This is another book I haven't finished yet, but it is extremely enjoyable and Irving's writing is of the type that always makes me laugh. “A Son of the Circus” was just hilarious, even when it was tragic, again.

So, that's pretty much for it for last month. I wrote some on "The Nebraska Creepers" and now have my own special little episode to add. I want to keep the reader in the dark as much as possible as to who are really the good guys and who are the bad eggs. Working through that is a bit tough. I'm not that great at fiction and even worse when it comes to editing. 

The symphony managed to put on some nice concerts, and we are now in rehearsal for “Swan Lake” by Tchaikovsky, “The Blue Danube Waltz” by Johann Strauss (I forget which one) and Franz Liszt's Piano Concerto. It should be a good one! 

Sunday, July 13, 2014

#ROW80 3RD QTR 2014, SUNDAY CHECK-IN – POST 3 – BUT IS IT ART?


I've gone back and finished “Under the Dome” by Stephen King, and I cannot say that it was my favorite King book ever, or even up there in the 50 percentile. I don't really know why this is, but as time has passed and books like “The Stand”, “Salem's Lot”, “Dead Zone” and even “The Shining” come up on their 30th plus years' anniversaries, they look more like books written by someone who was truly serious about literature in general and in horror specifically. One of his finest books, “Different Seasons” produced three exemplary novellas; an extremely difficult form to master, and they were rich in language and satisfying, even in their brevity. “Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption”, “Apt Pupil”, and “The Body” each left behind the supernatural and horror genres King was famous for at the time and they were resoundingly wonderful to read.

courtesy: firewireblog.com

There is a television show of the same name. I got through about 14 minutes of it and had to turn off the tee vee. I understand it's been renewed.

But, it seemed to me, that after the publishing of “It”, King had hit a wall, or gotten into a rut. I'm not saying his writing became formulaic, although, after so many books, some of the characters do take on a sameness. What bothers me specifically is that his writing voice has become artificial. It becomes harder and harder, with exceptions to buy into whatever his characters' scrapes, situations, life-and-death perils and choices are about and I find myself dwelling more and more on the voice that is telling the tale, and to me it is not ringing true.

Maybe all wildly successful authors go through this; they hit their stride and they find just the right note with an audience, and subconsciously, they begin writing TO that audience, rather than just spinning out their tales. One of my favorite authors, Aldrea Alien, says in her bio “Since discovering the love of writing at the age of twelve, she hasn't found an ounce of peace from the characters plaguing her mind.” I love that; she puts her stories out there and they are hum-dingers. She's writing currently about a race of lizard-people and there are all sorts of things afoot. Being totally rational, and given to reading history books, I was a bit skeptical at first, but she makes it so damned REAL, that her world is easy to buy into. Her worlds are spectacular and her plots are action-filled. Lizard-people, huh. Who'da thunk it? Her characters are fully-fleshed and their actions spring organically, from their previous experiences and lives.

courtesy: thardrandria.blogspot.com                                       

 
"The Rogue King" Available on Amazon.com. Again, as one who reads crime fiction, or history books, I became instantly captivated with Aldrea's Koral and his struggles and the world he lives in.
 
Back to the “Dome”, and King's writing; a quick synopsis can be found here. Some of King's characters make this kind of organic sense, most notably, Dale Barbara, the protagonist of the book. As a veteran of Dubya's mis-informed incursion into Iraq, Barbara is familiar with the techniques of torture and humiliation that were de rigueur as a part of an occupying unit in the Army, but that was not who he was, and ultimately, his decency and humanity win out. After a brief stint in Chester Mill's jail, which sees his life threatened by Junior Rennie, who conveniently has a brain tumor, which is causing him to be not just evil like his father, but overtly batshit, Barbara is freed, to lead the good faction, that eventually wins out.

courtesy: schmoesknow.com

"Big" Jim Rennie, as portrayed by the awesome Dean Norris, late of "Breaking Bad". This man can do good and evil equally well, and it's too bad King didn't have him for a template in the book. As it is, he is infinitely creepier in the show (so I've heard and can believe) than what King originally wrote.

The problem for me is the antagonist, Big Jim Rennie, used car salesman and 2nd town Selectman, who is just pure evil, through and through and of such a cartoonish quality, I find it hard to buy into ANYTHING he is selling, whether it be a car, or his own home-spun philosophy, regarding who should run the town after the Dome has fallen. No reason is given, as to his badness; did he wet the bed as a kid? Were his parents dysfunctional? Who the hell knows and I really was well-nigh fed up with him and his stupid dialogue.

courtesy: fanpop.com

Dale Barbara is played by actor Mike Vogel in the series; he seems to have made little impression on me, as I registered him as a cipher. He also seems to be a bit younger than your average Iraqi war vet, but hey, that's tee vee!

This is another thing about King that drives me batshit. In “The Stand”, people, including Randall Flagg, acted and talked like normal people; you could buy into Flagg's brand of Evil, because it was so subtle; so seductive. But with Big Jim, I find it hard to believe that he could hoodwink an entire town and run a successful methamphetamine lab out of the Christers' radio station WCIK and people NOT know about it; the guy is as subtle as a lead balloon. The kind of lead balloon that has a gondola and people would ride in, not a kid's balloon; he's that obvious and non-creepy. Everyone's a "cotton-picker" and/or a "Son of a Buck" which wears thin, and that falsity of his language piles onto the falseness of his character. If we're meant to believe that he is a Town Selectman (one out of three, who all seem reasonably sane, although one of them has a drug addiction, which she manages to kick, 40 seconds before her gruesome death at a town gathering; very King-esque) then, we must assume the rest of the town doesn't give two hoots and a holler, or they're all on meth, which turns out not to be the case.

courtesy: collider.com

Julia Shumway, played by Rachelle Lefevre, on the show "Under the Dome". In the book, Julia is the town's sole editor of the newspaper and is several years older than Dale Barbara, but that doesn't usually play well in tee vee land. In the book, Julia goes to the Space Kids and makes a lone plea for mercy to be let free. It works, but the ending feels tacked on, rushed and there's no sense of resolution.

The ending didn't work for me either; it was more Star Trek (to quote Wikipedia) in the “Can't we all just get along” school of reasoning by Julia Shumway, than anything else. The idea that Space Kids were looking at these people under a Dome from a jillion miles and observing their goings-on, much in the way kids have looked at ant farms is not a new one, nor is the idea of sequestering a bunch of individuals – people, pigs, cows, whatever – as in “Lord of the Flies” to see what they do in the absence of authority. But most certainly, Julia's little heart-felt plea at the very end of the book, resulting in the presto! change-o! lifting of the Dome, to sweet, sweet fresh air and then, bam! The End. Well, it just all seemed rather hastily written to me, and didn't resonate as a satisfying ending.

In reading over some other critiques before writing this, I do admire King's antipathy for the Bush-Cheney administration and understand why he chose Dale Barbara as a vet of the War in Iraq, as his protagonist, and why he touches so often on the idea of wanton and casual torture; not as a means to an end, or because people are callous and cruel necessarily. It can be as simple as something to ease boredom, which is a hugely frightening thought. 


This is an un-retouched, un-Photo-Shopped picture. You can just see the evil dripping off this man. I have a short, short list of people I would dearly love to see underground; he's on it. I make no excuse for my lack of acceptance, tolerance, or forgiveness for those particular individuals, nor do I think that how I feel is a bad thing; at least I'm honest.

The metaphor and/or idea of raging little kids not being able to do anything but lash out at an unseen enemy when it was demonstrably clear that Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11 would seem preposterous, were it not for the fact that the Bush Administration proceeded to go ahead and do just that: invade Iraq, after the invasion of Afghanistan, and months of gleeful trumpeting about hidden WMDs in Iraq, which never existed, nor could they. Anyone paying two minutes of attention to current affairs in the 80s, 90s and 00s would know this; Iraq had not the infrastructure, nor the will after having their asses kicked in the Iran-Iraq conflict that was only ended, when a brokered peace eight years into the war, brought about a re-establishment of the pre-war borders. Iraq then went on to fail miserably in the invasion of Kuwait and subsequent ass-kicking from the U.S., so they were not really inclined to start up a new conflict. We saw a weakened country; a corrupt and teetering tyranny and took full advantage of it. But, I digress.

I was agreeing with King's assessment of the Bush-Cheney administration, although, King saw Cheney as Jim Rennie and Bush as Andy Sanders, the do-nothing selectman, who discovers the joys of becoming a tweaker. That part may be true; I've always had my suspicions about Bush. But, Cheney? Rennie is no where near as evil as that man. Enough said. Also let me add this; parts of the book were written a long time ago, and parts are new. Much of it is allegorical and I have to be honest. I have seldom read an allegorical book that worked, with the sole exception being C. S. Lewis and his “Chronicles of Narnia”. It's just always so painfully obvious to me, what the writer is trying to convey and it usually falls flat.

courtesy: narnia.wikia.com

Chronicles of Narnia, C. S. Lewis

Anyway, I had to force myself to finish the book, which is something unusual for me. I would love to read King's “November 22, 1963”, and see if that doesn't have a more adult tone about it. I didn't post earlier this week, as I just started a Clinical Trial, was gone all day, and stupidly didn't have a post ready for Wednesday. I will be hosting a cover reveal for a friend tomorrow, and can't wait! Anyway, happy rowing, fellow ROWers and more to come!

Sunday, February 2, 2014

#ROW80 1ST QTR 2014 - SUNDAY CHECK IN - ONCE AGAIN, IT'S THE STUPOR BOWL!!!

It's that time of year again, when we bid adieu to the American Football Season with the annual Super Bowl. This year, we have the Seattle Seahawks vs. the Denver Broncos. I'm still kinda hoping that that San Francisco 49'ers will show up, but that would just be bad sportsmanship, which the NFL will not tolerate, unless they will; everybody clear on that? It just depends on who's being unsportsman-like. Apparently, Richard Sherman doing his impression of a mad dog foaming at the mouth, and screaming, practically incoherently at Erin Andrews, who appeared to fear for her life, wasn't it. 


At least, Sapp isn't the one flappin' his jaw, here.

No, that just got everyone so riled up for two weeks of non-stop jabbering and carrying on so much that Warren Sapp thought it was time to pretend he was relevant again and take on Michael Strahan, who has tons more class than Sapp. The last time I saw ole' 99 (he played in Tampa, thus I am familiar with him personally), he was mouthing off to some poor kid in a wheelchair at a boxing match I was attending. The kid had the audacity to ask Sapp for an autograph. Asshole. I love it when athletes assume an imprimatur that is entirely bogus, forgetting all the while that it is us, the common folk who actually pay THEM, to watch them play. Sapp falling on people does not make for a better defensive tackle than Michael Strahan and Sapp is a thug; yes, I said it! A thug, with his thuggish ways, thuggish mouth and thuggish attitude towards his fans. 



Still, one hell of a fine writer!

But, I didn't start out to write an article about the shortcomings of players in the NFL. This is about goals, not of the touchdown kind. This is about writing goals and other goals outside of that as well. The writing has been coming along, albeit, not as quickly as I would like it to. But really, who says, "Gee, I want to drag out this process for the next forty years! THAT'S my goal!" I was looking at a list of books that Stephen King has written over his lifetime and was astounded. The amount of prose this man has churned out is impressive and although I cannot say that I am enjoying "Under the Dome" or "Needful Things," at least I can hold another author's published work in my hands.

Sometimes, I think King stopped writing with heart after "Dead Zone" or "Different Seasons" and just went into pap-mode, because the writing now seems forced; and the humor isn't really funny. His tragedies, although still Grand Guignol-like, and horrific and sad, fail to really move me. The characters aren't real in his later books. Or, maybe I am just reading with a different eye. The funny thing is, I still enjoy Dean Koontz, who has written nearly as many books, but has deepened his approach to his characterizations, while shortening the length of his overall stories. I don't know. If I go back and read certain passages in "Dead Zone" I cry, so I know it's not me.


I wonder if I could get this in blue?

Anyway, my health has been, (fingers crossed) excellent. Today, we moved the last of my furniture out of storage where it had been after the loss of the 2nd house. I am stronger than I have been in decades and am up to 112 pounds. For me, a miracle. I walk as much as I can (2 miles a day is easy) and have had no further incidents with would-be muggers.  As a matter of fact, I think I saw one of the men in the grocery store, and he took one look at me, my glasses and cane. I went into my "Gort" mode, and "stared" at him as he backed slowly up the cereal aisle. My friend, Alex, who had been an aisle over, came up and said, "Mary, what did you do to that man? He just put his basket down and left." I told Alex, "He needs to leave... earth... permanently. I hear Neptune is lovely this time of year". And left it at that. Alex knows better than to ask.

Everything from the storage unit is sort of shoe-horned into this place, so it's probably time for a garage sale. Our landlord put a shed out back for us, so we have lots of stuff in there, but so much needs to go. It's good to be back and trying to write again. This week is also the much-awaited #IWSG. Let's hope I get up in time on Wednesday to make that one! Have a happy Super Bowl and in honor of the event, I am going to post a link to last year's observations on the AFC Championship. Happy #ROWing and see you on Wednesday! 



Sunday, July 22, 2012

SUNDAY JULY 22, 2012 CHECK IN ROW80 DAY 13 - I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW


One day back in June of about 2004, I noticed my vision getting a little blurred. I chalked it up to allergies, and kind of forgot about it, as there was a ton of other shittery going on in my life that I sort of alluded to a couple of posts ago. So, let me chuck any semblance of narrative flow into the shitter and cheerfully skip ahead several years to about, oh a year ago:



This is me, sort of; divide by 3, add some hair and clothes, lose the fur and voilá!


People shy away from this. Before I went through my second eye surgery and Dr. Eyeball told me he would not do any further surgery on my eyes, I just went around and bumped into things and people. And people bumped into me. A lot. I found I did not like this at all and because I couldn't see them coming, I appeared to be rude and I really couldn't blame them for being upset with me.

When Dr. Eyeball and I had our talk, he suggested the stick and glasses. "It's rough out there." Point taken. I should mention he and his brother are the official opthamalogists to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, so they do know a bit about rough. I can't tell these two apart, aside from the fact that one of them hates computers and is the internist and the other is okay with computers and is the surgeon. If I mention computers to one of the brothers and frothing at the mouth commences, I know I've got Bernie the internist, not Donnie the surgeon.

So, off I go in my bumbling way, dragging my whack-a-mole stick and wearing these glasses, per Donnie. And... I'm still getting stepped on, bumped into and now it's getting a bit annoying...to me. I believe I've mentioned before I do not live in the best of neighborhoods. In fact, I live in an area that is dangerous. It's a simple matter of economics. So, I find myself telling people who step on me that if they don''t want to get the shit beat out of them to back off. Sometimes I have to say it 2 or 3 times. Sometimes, I have to say it loudly and profanely, while brandishing whack-a-mole. It leaves an impression, and not one has threatened me... yet.

Eventually, around here in the neighborhood, people began to get the idea that I might not be someone to fool with, that I might not be quite right in the head. This idea was reinforced when it was "leaked" (by my PR group) that I spent some time in the hospital, courtesy of the State of Florida. I'd never been known to be dangerous, but peace is tenuous here on the Avenue. The "communication" system on Nebraska is interesting to say the least. Fueled by a combination of sterno, radiator fluid, 10 dollar crack hits, meth, heroin and just plain delusion and lack of sleep, one is apt to hear of the coming of Elvis, Judge Crater and Britney Spears in Concert Together Again at Checkers. Tomorrow is the Apocalypse! 2 for 1 Spliffs with every 8-Ball purchased!!!

So, it's fairly easy to convince most of them that I have some kind of evil visitation going on and am not quite in control of my impulses. And even though I don't see well and am legally blind, I can tell when people are trying to come up to me on the street. I can stop that shit in a heart beat and have done so with a flick of my head and a whisk of old whack-a-mole in their direction. It scares the hell out of people. They mostly just stay away. I think there really is something superstitious about the whole dark glasses and cane thing, although a rigorous 15 minutes spent on Google and LOLcats found nothing of the sort. The closest thing I found that made me have the heebie-jeebies was when I Googled "eyeless." Gah! The pictures alone will keep me awake.



That shit really creeped me out. But it didn't creep me out nearly as much as that damned thing, "The Man With the X-Ray Eyes" directed by Roger Corman. That movie was and still is, one of the most horrifying things I've ever seen. I think sometimes, that kids sense things that will happen to them later on. As impossible as it seems. I saw this thing on the KTLA Creature Feature when I was about 11 years old. I remember thinking then that the man could still see, even after he had torn his eyes from his sockets. I was freaked out. But that was not the ending shown, unless I am mis-remembering it, which is entirely possible, because Stephen King in his excellent book, "Danse Macabre," writes that the original ending with Ray Milland screaming "I can still see!" was deemed too horrifying for the viewing public. So, I probably just have it all mixed in my usual Mary Confuse-a-story. But, I honestly think it's a truly terrifying movie to this day. That horror has never worn off. Oooh! Fun! Now, I'm off to see what Chupacabra tore up in the back yard.