Looking Forward,Looking Back: Best of 2011

It’s been an educational year for all of us at Booksellers.  Your support has been nothing less than amazing; a lesson in community we take into the new year as our most powerful tool in understanding the need to inform, inspire and educate with the power of words and ideas. With this in mind, I ask all of you to share with us: What were your favorite books this year? What books would you like to read in the coming year? Tell us. We’d love to post these reviews here.

Indiebound Reader app on the Kindle Fire

Many of you have already read Samantha Clark’s how-to on using the Indiebound app for the Kindle fire.  Turns out the rumor that Fire users cannot buy e-books from indies just isn’t true. No, the default settings don’t allow you to install applications not offered in the Amazon store, but Samantha offers a quick and easy way to allow your new Holiday gift to accept these outside apps. Many thanks.

The Rise of The Zombie

 

I was in my early adolesence when Night of the Living Dead first appeared in theatres (yes, I’m that old, make of it what you will!). I had been used to the usual fare of horror movies; my mother would force my older sister to take my younger sister and I along on drive-in dates. I was humiliated, to be sure, until I realized my sister and her fiance, Frank, could not have cared less if we came along: the young couple had more ways to connect than my mother could have imagined, and besides, Frank enjoyed the opportunity to make gross-out comments to a younger audience.

My future brother-in-law adored drive-in horror movies. I remember Frank’s comments about the action on the screen better than I remember the movies. There is something comfortable and familiar in the memories of his recitation of a recipe for blood-and-guts pie while Vincent Price strutted his stuff, or comments about what might really be in our drink cups while Christopher Lee did his thing. The air was full of “Eewwws” and giggles. A good time was had by all. And suddenly, all that changed.

I had overheard some of the boys in school talking about this new movie,Night of the Living Dead. They spoke in awe. They spoke in fear. They said very little, and thus spoke volumes. I couldn’t wait, and had planned a Saturday matinee with my younger sister.

I announced my intentions to attend the movie on that Thursday evening. Frank had been invited over for dinner, and I knew I could count on him to be a back-up voice; offering a note of humor to diffuse my mother’s reservations. The young couple had attended the movie the night before. Easy as pie, right?

Imagine my shock and disappointment when the two of them looked at my mother as one and said,”No!”. My sister gave me her, “Babe, I’m sorry.” look. Frank wouldn’t look at me at all. He looked determined. He looked…frightened. This was a man who had spent his military time on a ship in Southeast Asia. This was a man who trained in the Martial arts in South Korea. He built and raced fast cars. He was a diver going for his deep sea certification. The man who swam with sharks and had the pictures to prove it didn’t want me to see this movie! You gotta be kidding me.

My memory of this part may be a little hazy, but it seemed like I remember the newspaper running an article about Night of The Living Dead shortly after my disappointment. I remember the gist of it: the comfort of sending your children off to a Saturday afternoon movie has been changed. No more tame bug-eyed monsters. Parents, beware! Blah,blah, yackety-yackety.

My older sister confessed later that this was the first time a movie had ever scared Frank. She would reiterate that over the years. It was much later when I finally saw this masterpiece of modern transgression. I finally understood.

The Zombie is truly the terror from within, a transgression owned and paid for by human action. George Romero hacked through boundaries in ways that few could fully comprehend. You have to go back almost 200 years prior to find the archetypal notes in Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, but the melody of the tune is the same: man acts with hubris and creates life made from death. The natural order has been turned over. Balance must be restored by further death, or, in many cases, Pandora’s Box has been smashed open and cannot be put back together again.

 

We have messed things up and we know it. The sins that bring about the Zombie are myriad,obvious, and as familiar as the evening news. Night of the Living Dead is a holocaust brought about by a satellite carrying a strange cosmic radiation. The horror of the Living Dead at The Manchester Morgue (a.k.a Let Sleeping Corpses Lie) is brought about by tampering with pesticides. Fulci’s lush images of evil are fueled with original sin. Darabont’s Walking Dead? David Moody’s Hater? Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later? Viruses we have facilitated in one way or another. David Wellington’s Monster Trilogy runs on the premise of tampering with supernatural forces.

And now? We have seen the rise and fall of the Zombie jokebook. Like Frankenberry cereal, the Zombie has gone far into the zeitgeist. To twist a paraphrase by an old cartoon character, we have seen the monster and it is us. Romero spent time emphasizing the acceptance of the living dead in two of his three most recent movies. Acceptance of transgression is nearly impossible. Denial, as in the best Dionysian stories, is even worse.

Where do we go from here?

Happy Halloween,kids.


The Outer Dark and the Inner Reflection: Vampires & the Media

Please be advised: this post contains mature content.

Grab a snack and a bevvy, children. I’ve got a story to tell; two stories, in fact. One is about the evil that comes from within, and one is the evil that comes from without. Today, I want to talk about the latter: The Vampire.

Ever wonder why there are some monster tales with more staying power than others?  How and Why do books on Vampires enter the general mainstream, coming so far as to make an exasanguinating creature of evil the romantic aspirations of millions of girls and women? I’ve been asking that question since the rise of Stephanie Meyer’s books.  I have an answer; one answer, though not necessarily the only one.

Abraham Stoker published Dracula in 1897.  He wrote several other horror novels, including Lair Of The White Worm and Jewel of The Seven Stars.  Why and how did this novel, Dracula, come to be acknowledged as one of the most famous horror novels of all time?  Two words: sex and responsibility.

Read it. The book is a lurid bit of epistolary-style fiction, written during the Victorian era. I know you’re with me so far.  But there’s one more primal note in this song of dread: none of the victims has control over their fates: poor Lucy Westerna didn’t ask to be drained of all her blood. She was overwhelmed.  Johnathan Harker didn’t seek out the evil Count and his brides, he was sent by his boss. The hapless and helpless are not responsible for their experiences of deadly dangerous sexuality. Moreover, the Count isn’t even present in most of the book.  His existence lingers like a shadow on the bedroom wall. The heart of the story is, pure and simple, the ability to experience unrestrained sexual behavior without assigning responsibility.We can go so far as to say it outlines the experience of sex without the sex. The repressed Victorians, of course,went wild.

In 1922, German filmaker F.W. Murnau recreated the nightmare of the predator in his classic film of German Expressionism, Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens.  Stoker’s widow sued Murnau for copyright infringement and won. The courts ordered all copies of the movie to be destroyed. It was a stroke of fortune that bootleg copies survived: Murnau’s movie is a thing of artistry and fevered skill. Furthermore,there is a key difference between Stoker and Murnau.  In the movie, Ellen ( the German Mina Harker) reads the journal her husband has forbidden her to read; a journal that says the only way to defeat the monster is for a sinless maiden to offer herself willingly to the Noseferatu.  The monster will lose himself in the innocence of his victim, forget about the coming dawn, and be destroyed in the first rays of the sun. She offers herself up, and sure enough, the monster is destroyed: a happy ending created through loving self sacrifice and self-determination. A mixture of Stoker and Murnau will be created by Coppola many decades later, and will reflect the horrors of more than a decade of the HIV pandemic. As a side note, I think the movie fails because of it’s timing rather than it’s skill. We had read Anne Rice. Many of us had lost someone to the horror of AIDs. We got it,already.  The movie works best as an homage to the history of the vampire.  But it shows Murnau’s influence.For good or ill, the German film maker helped the powerful genie of sexual repression escape it’s bottle and the indelible image of the vampire was called up from the depths of our psyches for once and for all. It’s legacy will transform as our fears and understandings of our natures change throughout the 20th century. F.W. Murnau, Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee, Anne Rice, Stephen King, Frank Langella,John Lindqvist, Francis Ford Coppella: all of these authors and movie personalities will bring something new to the genre. In spite of these differences,all vampire stories fall roughly into three basic categories:

1: The Sexual- This category starts with Stoker and leads a straight path though Lugosi to the sixties and the films of Hammer studios, where Chris Lee will give rise to a legion of bloodlusting wantons whose thirsts are commesurate with the fears of burgeoning sexual freedom. Then, the vampire will make a small but significant change in course during the early 70s, with Louis Jourdan playing the count as an existentially evil(but most attractive) creature of the night. Jack Palance gave an under-appreciated and beautifully primal performance as the bloody count in 1973.  Frank Langella was the first truly romantic vampire, and there’s a direct line from Langella’s Dracula to Edward, but Langella’s sparkle lies in the execution of his craft. True Blood fits comfortably into this category, and I know more than a few vampire fans who thrill to the phrase,”Sookie is mine!”

2: The Non-Sexual- Stephen King does this one quite well, as does Richard Matheson in I Am Legend and Guillermo del Toro with Chuck Hogan in The Strain Trilogy.  The vampire isn’t the slightest bit interested in your intimate participation, it ain’t pretty, and it’s success depends a great deal on human weaknesses outside of our sexuality. It’s an evil from without, but tips it’s scales with the help of the evil from within us.

3: The Mixed-The third category exploits many combinations of human emotions, including – but not restricted to -sexuality.  As in the previous category, the success of the predator lies in it’s ability to pry at the cracks in our lives. John Avjide Lindqvist’s Let The Right One In is a top example of vampire-story-as-cautionary tale: evil always breaks through the cracks in human experience created by alienation and dysfunction. Merhige’s Shadow Of The Vampire (another fine tribute to Murnau’s creation) exploits hubris and riffs upon the relative anonymity of Murnau’s star actor in Noseferatu.

All vampire stories fit to varying degrees in these categories. There’s only one book I know of since Stoker which makes the vampire wholly a force from outside of our control, and that’s the brilliant stand-alone, Carrion Comfort by Dan Simmons. Some have argued that it is not a vampire story at all, but a story about mind control practiced by a small group of people who keep themselves alive by feeding on the violence they create in others. Hmmm…I rest my case.

So. You may still ask: what does all this have to do with the vampire as a wildly popular romantic figure? It’s this: it’s been more than 100 years since a crazy Irish actor immortalized himself with a tale of darkest Dionysian sexuality. During this time,  repetition has made us comfortable with idea of the dangerous other in the darkened room, while holding the fact of a true other at a comfortable, supernaturally-based arm’s length. For some of us, it is enough that the other sparkles. For some of us, the other is a fire storm.  For others still, it is a reptilian luminescense.  But we’ve had a century to become comfortable with the notion that a dark light attracts us.  Who knows more about the glow of fear and desire than the inheritors of this new century?

Next time,kids the terror from within: The Rise of The Zombie.


Off The Beaten Path II: Quotidian Strange and Magic

The Knife Thrower: And Other Stories by Steven Millhauser

I have been wondering how to approach the works of Steven Millhauser.  How can I describe the jewel-like precision of stories like The New Automaton Theatre, or Dream of The Consortium? There is a precise magic of transgression for the sake of beauty and pleasure in these works.  The subtle shadings of the sinister; of a world tilted slightly on its axis of wonder by the characters’ obsessions. And yet, there is childlike wonder in stories like Clair de Lune, a tale about a young boy who finds himself wandering into the night and into a baseball game played by girls dressed as boys. In Sisterhood of the Night, we meet with a group of girls who gather in a park at night to observe silence; a magical condition that threatens the community at large with it’s innocent mystery.  Kafka, Borges and Schulz beg comparison, but in the end, there is only one Steven Millhauser.

Cherie Priest at Booksellers at Laurelwood

Booksellers at Laurelwood is proud to welcome award-winning author Cherie Priest. Cherie won the 2009 Nebula Award and the 2010 Locus award for her novel Boneshaker.  She has been nominated for a Hugo Award, was part of the Aegri Somnia anthology, which was nominated for a Bram Stoker award, and won an award from the Pacific Northwest Booksellers Association. She is one of the foremost authors in he field of Steampunk.  I am honored.

Cherie will be signing with us on Saturday, November 12th, starting at 1:00 p.m.

Halloween Frights and Delights: Off The Beaten Path

October,and the winds are cooling: Children approach the subject of Halloween costumes with a seriousness few adults give to any and all  wardrobe decisions, and television begins to trot out the usual gorefests.  Time for that spooky book? Tired of that same old fare of ,say, H.P. Lovecraft and Stephen King? With all due respect to the aforementioned rulers of dread, there are a lot of other authors out there, and they aren’t usually found in the genre section.  This month, I’ll highlight some of these talents, and hopefully, take you to some places you’ve never been before…

Hehhehehhehhh….

Joyce Carol Oates has always been a writer whose words crackle with an offhand and nearly effortless sense of dread.  She swims through the waters of dysfunctional family behaviors with a grace that’s eerie and odd to many, but-like a deer in the headlights-you can’t look away.  If you have read The Falls or We Were The Mulvaneys, you have experienced this feeling of things unsaid and tragic or terrible truths which have not been faced. But Oates tops them all in Zombie.

Quentin P. is a child of privilege, a product of a supremely dysfunctional family, and a serial killer. Oates doesn’t offer whys or wherefores; she simply presents Quentin: beyond understanding or redemption. This one is a short novel, some say mercifully so. Not for the squeamish.

 

It was on the long-term encouragements of a friend that I read Stewart O’nan’s A Prayer For The Dying and it’s existential horror left me stunned. It’s principle character, Jacob Hansen, is a survivor of the Civil War who moves to a small mid-western town. Once there, he becomes the town’s sheriff/preacher/undertaker. The town is hit by a diptheria epidemic and closes it’s borders…But what do they do when the town is threatened by an approaching fire? We follow the unraveling of society, faith and sanity itself through the words of Hansen. This is one of the most haunting books I’ve read in years. Which leads me to my next book by O’Nan: The Night Country.

Five teenagers are involved in a car crash on Halloween night. Three die, two survive, one with brain damage. One year later, the ghosts of the three dead teenagers come back, called by anyone who still remember them. This one is creepy in the finest legacy of Shirley Jackson, and relentless in it’s progression.  O’Nan has a real skill with understatement; one that allows both A Prayer For The Dying and The Night Country to deliver some real power and impact.

 

Virtual Read-out: Banned Books Week

Our libraries and book stores have been hosting read-outs since the inception of Banned Book Week in 1982, but this is the first year they’ve gone virtual. Now anyone with a webcam and a concern for literary freedom can participate.  The ABA and the ABFFE are offering a how-to page. It’s an easy way to show your concern.  In the meantime, I offer this: Some of these images are from actual book burnings. No kidding.

Emil Henry signs Triumph And Tragedy: The Life of Edward Whymper

I must admit, I knew nothing about Mr Henry’s book when I was asked to host his signing on Saturday, the 24th of September. I knew even less about Edward Whymper.  I have learned more than a few details on the subject of this book, and I am looking forward to learning more about the life and experiences of an artist and outdoorsman who was first to scale the Matterhorn, set precedent for the use of sleds in Arctic exploration by employing them in his exploration of Greenland, and was the first to link altitude sickness to atmospheric pressure during his exploration of the Andes.

Mr. Henry,also an outdoorsman and adventurer, first became interested in Edward Whymper during his own expedition into the Alps in 1984. Mr. Henry is also a lawyer and a former FCC Commissioner appointed to the post by President Kennedy.  He served in this position from 1963 to 1966.  Mr Henry’s signing will be at 1:00 p.m. this Saturday