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The Case of the Icky Readers

Nathan Bransford generated some interesting comments last week about the value of 99-cent readers. The initial conversation revolved around an interview with Zoe Winters, an eBook author. The article, “Does Lowballing Attract the Wrong Kind of Reader?”, sent chills down my spine just reading the title. The wrong kind of reader? What, exactly, is that? It seems like a business complaining about “the wrong kind of customer” or “the wrong kind of venture capitalist.” But maybe she has a point? It’s worth exploring, right?


No, not really.


The Quality of the Customer


The thrust of the argument is that “quality” of a customer is more important than “quantity.” Let’s briefly touch on the assumption that someone who would purchase a $37 eBook, a price-point that interviewer Jennifer Mattern seems to advocate, is “higher quality” than a reader who buy at 99-cents. The idea is that buying a book at a high price instills reader loyalty, whereas a lowball price does not. That’s absurd on its face. How many times has a high price made you more likely to buy something else from the same company or author? How many computer manufacturers, for instance, try to shoot for the highest price possible out of the idea that if consumers pay too little, they won’t be likely to buy from that company again? Nobody, of course. If, out of some case of temporary insanity, I pay $37 for your eBook, it better damn well be one of the best books I’ve ever read, or I’m exceedingly unlikely to purchase any of your future works. On the other hand, price your book at $.99, and not only will I be more likely to buy it, I’ll be a lot more likely to give it the benefit of the doubt, see the potential, overlook the flaws and try your next book.


I have a feeling that Ms. Winters and Ms. Mattern agree with my logic up to now. “Of course a higher price doesn’t instill loyalty. It weeds out those readers who aren’t loyal!” Ms. Winters even says:

“I think the readers I attract now are truly interested in MY work, and not just a bargain. I feel like the readers I’m attracting are the types of readers who are going to be passionate about the work and tell other people.”


This, to put it simply, is a fallacy. Math averse should look away right now. Let’s call X the set of readers that will read a book at a $9 price point. Let’s call Y the set of readers that will read a book at a $.99 price point. I’ll use some of Ms. Mattern’s noncontroversial assumptions that the readers in Y are, on average, more loyal (and thus more desirable) than the readers in X. This is certainly true; if you’re selling your book at a bottom-of-the-barrel price, you’r certainly going to attract a certain readership that is voracious in reading, and don’t really care who or what they consume as long as it’s cheap. 

However, where I believe Ms. Mattern’s and Ms. Winter’s argument breaks down is in the assumption that X is not a part of Y. The assumption is that all those loyal readers somehow won’t be there if you sell your book for cheap. That’s false logic. A low price point doesn’t scare away loyal reader, or if it does, that has failed to be proven to me. Ms. Winters muses that a low price creates some sort of psychological idea that the book is going to suck, which is not the way it works in any other creative medium, so I’m not sure why anyone would think it would be the case here. Instead, the likely truth is that X is a subset of Y. Y has all those crazy, unloyal, finicky readers, sure, but it has all the same loyal readers as X. If your only concern is having “the right kind” of readers, I see no reason why a higher price point would help you achieve this goal.


So 99-cents is the way to go?

Not necessarily. What my post shouldn’t be construed as is an economic suggestion one way or another. The interview itself shies away from the examples of 99-cent millionaires, instead focusing on how such successes are rare. Ms. Winters says:

“I think almost no one can make a solid living with 99 cent ebooks because you have to have huge volume for that. When I sold 6,500 ebooks in June 2010, that was around $2,300. Well, most people can’t live on that, especially after you take out Uncle Sam’s cut.”


And that is a completely fair statement. Maybe most authors can’t make a living at that price point. If that’s the case, raise your prices to $2.99. Or $4.99. Or $37.99. The idea that 99-cent eBooks exert a downward pressure on all prices is a similarly valid one, but that’s not a worry that individual authors have control of. Regardless of how you price your books, there will be authors that sell for 99-cents. Hell, there will be authors that give their works away for free, and not all of these works are “low-quality.” Some people just care more for readership than money. That is their right, and it’s pointless to think that the entire marketplace is controlled by how you price your books. 

One of the strawmen that gets thrown around, sometimes, is that people like me (sometimes referred to as ‘Freevangelists’) think everything should be free, and an author shouldn’t deserve to make money. Nothing could be further from the truth. I think great artists deserve to be compensated, and I would love a world where talented authors could be guaranteed a living. But that is beside the point. 

The argument from ‘Freevangelists’ is not that free or low-price is always ideal, but that it’s sometimes ideal. If you can make $1,000,000 selling eBooks at 99-cents, but you only make $500,000 selling eBooks at $2.99, should you raise your prices simply because 99-cents “devalues your work?” Of course not! It’s silly! I’m absolutely not saying that 99-cents is an ideal price, or that all authors should aim for that. Each author and publisher is going to need to make economic decisions based on their individual situation. That’s part of running a successful business. What I’m saying is that discounting a certain price point because of it makes you feel icky is wrong, both from an economic view, and from the view of respecting your fans, regardless of how much cash they shell out. A fan is a fan. A reader is a reader. Cherish them.
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The Best Films of 2010, Part II

It’s that time! I’ve officially watched all the Best Movie nominations, so I feel totally qualified to give my worthless opinion on this nigh-meaningless award show! Seriously, though, there were some pretty good movies this year. If you didn’t read my first entry, check it here. For the record, I saw The Social Network, The Fighter and Winter’s Bone since I wrote that. The Fighter and Winter’s Bone were both very enjoyable movies, though I think TSN edged them out overall (and it probably edged out The Town from my list).

This followup will just be a rundown of my picks for each category (other than a few in which I didn’t see all the entries, like Documentary, etc.). It will be a lot more sparse and less melodramatic than previous post.

Note that my picks are what I think should win, not what I think will win — though I may address that in certain categories. I’ll highlight the things I didn’t actually see in red. Maybe there’s some amazing indie movie out there that blows everything away, so I’m hedging my bets. On with the show!

Best Original Screenplay
Another Year
The Fighter
Inception
The Kids Are All Right
The King’s Speech


All right, so The Fighter and The King’s Speech are going to be duking it out for a lot of these on who I think will win, but I think King’s Speech is the better movie in most regards. You can certainly see it in the writing. Though it’s hard to fully separate writing from directing from editing, The King’s Speech has a better pacing and overall arc. The Fighter has some really great bits — I particularly enjoyed the subplot about the documentary — but we also see a few events happen over and over again (i.e., a fight between family and his life), and these aren’t always presented in fresh ways. It gets to be a little redundant at times, and I think that’s more of the fault of the script than anything else. The King’s Speech, on the other hand, hits its mark well. The pacing is great, the characters are well written, and it never gets bogged down.

Best Adapted Screenplay

127 Hours
The Social Network
Toy Story 3
True Grit
Winter’s Bone

All right, all right, yes — The Social Network is very clearly a Sorkin joint. The characters are very pithy and quick-witted. There aren’t really any strong women to speak of. But it succeeds anyway. It succeeds at making us both like and dislike this irritating, annoying character. It succeeds at making us care about the trials and tribulations of people who, let’s face it, at the end of the day, they’re all multimillionaires. So I have to give Sorkin props for that. It also helps that some of the other scripts were messes, even for good movies. Winter’s Bone was a pretty simple tale, but it really fell apart at the end. The whole thing revolved around people snitching and people finding out about meth labs, but the thing is, EVERY SINGLE PERSON in that town ran a meth lab, and every single person knew about it, so the issue seemed forced to generate conflict. True Grit was all right. Maddie was written well, but the rest was ho-hum. Toy Story 3 touched me to my core, but the central conflict wasn’t all that impressive. So Facebook Movie it is!

Visual Effects
Alice in Wonderland
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1
Hereafter
Inception
Iron Man 2

The rotating room was brilliant, that’s all I can say. I haven’t been that blown away since The Matrix. It wasn’t even all that original, really, but Inception executed it so well.

This was a category where I was actually really disappointed this year. Iron Man 2? Please. Aside from the fact that the movie sucked, I don’t remember being impressed by anything visual. Alice in Wonderland has to be disqualified for the ridiculous Red Queen with elephantiasis. Harry Potter? It had Dobby, I suppose, and the multiple Harries, but cloning characters on screen isn’t really that impressive anymore. We all saw The Parent Trap.

Sound Mixing
Inception 
The King’s Speech
Salt
The Social Network
True Grit

I almost didn’t pick a winner for this category because of the lack of Black Swan. Seriously, the fact that Salt got nominated, but Black Swan didn’t is kind of disgusting. Black Swan literally made me gasp at the awesome way it used sound. Inception is the only one who came close to using sound as creatively or masterfully. So I’ll pick that, but don’t be fooled, Black Swan should be the winner.

Sound Editing
Inception 
Toy Story 3
Tron: Legacy
True Grit
Unstoppable

Same story as above. I still remember the cracking of Nina’s feet in Black Swan. I can’t remember a single sound effect from True Grit.

Best Original Song
“Coming Home” – Country Strong
“I See the Light” – Tangled
“If I Rise” – 127 Hours
“We Belong Together” – Toy Story 3

Ye gods, kill me now, I listened to Gwyneth Paltrow’s country song. You’ll have to at the ceremony. Change the channel. It’s awful.

You know, it’s weird that songs have to be regular 3-minute long vocal songs to be considered in this category. Many songs from 127 Hours could have put up quite a fight, but “If I Rise” isn’t the strongest piece on the soundtrack. So yes, Tangled wins. “I See the Light” is probably the best song from the movie, outside of the simple, short “Let Your Power Shine” motif. It’s not the best Disney song ever, but it’s sweet, catchy, and I hate Randy Newman.

Best Original Score
How to Train Your Dragon – John Powell
Inception – Hans Zimmer
The King’s Speech – Alexandre Desplat
127 Hours – A.R. Rahman
The Social Network – Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross

I feel bad because I didn’t really notice the music in The Social Network. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. But it doesn’t really matter. Because Black Swan isn’t eligible for this category (it used too much of the music from Swan Lake to be considered “original”), 127 Hours takes it easily. Hell, it might have anyway. Listen to this, specifically the last half, and tell me that’s not fantastic.


Best Film Editing
Black Swan
The Fighter
The King’s Speech
127 Hours
The Social Network

This, along with director, was one of the hardest categories to decide. I feel like all of these films are edited extremely well. The King’s Speech was paced well, but I feel like that was mostly scripting, so I crossed off that one. 127 Hours did a great job making this confined subject interesting, but I can’t shake off the weird, over-the-top camera angles in the first half-hour or so. It was likely a directorial choice, but it’s an editing one as well. The main reason I gave it to The Social Network is how flawlessly it combined scenes taking place at different times to intensify certain themes. Once the movie shows you that this isn’t going to be a step-by-step, day-by-day type of movie, you never really question it. It’s clean and unambiguous, even though it’s untraditional. 

Best Cinematography
Black Swan
Inception
The King’s Speech
True Grit
The Social Network

Social Network and The King’s Speech both had some great shots (the school board room, and the physical therapy respectively), but I thought Black Swan just outclassed them. A lot of the scenes in that movie truly impressed me. Powerful, but subtle. Also, it’s kind of funny that 127 Hours didn’t get nominated for their crazy angles. I figured it would have just because it was unusual. I guess the Academy disliked them as much as I did.

Best Art Direction
Alice in Wonderland
Harry Potter
The King’s Speech
True Grit
Inception

This award always mystified me, because it seems like more of an administrative thing. I guess it’s an award for the overall Art Design, so in that sense, I think Inception should win (and Alice in Wonderland should lose horribly). But it’s not a category I have a lot of insight into.

Best Animated Film
How to Train Your Dragon
The Illusionist
Toy Story 3

I refuse to pick a winner for this film out of protest, because Tangled wasn’t nominated. I’m not saying it should have won, but it should have absolutely been on there.

Best Supporting Actress
Amy Adams, The Fighter
Helena Bonham Carter, The King’s Speech
Melissa Leo, The Fighter
Hailee Steinfeld, True Grit
Jacki Weaver, Animal Kingdom

I still think Steinfeld deserves to be nominated for Best Actress, but since she wasn’t, she certainly deserves to win the award here. Adams and Carter did exceptional work as well, but Steinfeld held the weight of the entire movie on her shoulders.

Best Actress
Annette Benning, The Kids are All Right
Nicole Kidman, Rabbit Hole
Jennifer Lawrence, Winter’s Bone
Natalie Portman, Black Swan
Michelle Williams, Blue Valentine

Jennifer Lawrence nearly stole it. Seriously. I would not be surprised, or all that disappointed, if she won it. I was really blown away by her performance. But I was also blown away by Portman’s performance, as I outlined in Part I, and I think she edged out Lawrence just barely. Both actresses were by far the most interesting parts of their respective movies, but Portman gave more nuance. It may be because Lawrence had less to work with (I wasn’t really impressed with Winter’s Bone, other than by her performance).

Best Supporting Actor
Christian Bale, The Fighter
John Hawkes, Winter’s Bone
Jeremy Renner, The Town
Mark Ruffalo, The Kids Are All Right
Geoffrey Rush, The King’s Speech

Christian Bale, no question. This might be the most obvious pick of the night. He simply became that character. It was spot-on perfection. Geoffrey Rush was good in a charming sort of way, but Bale was better. I’m pissed off Andrew Garfield (Eduardo from The Social Network) didn’t get nominated, as I thought he did a fantastic job, much better than Ruffalo, even. He deserves recognition for that part.

Best Actor
Javier Bardem, Biutiful
Jeff Bridges, True Grit
Jesse Eisenberg, The Social Network
Colin Firth, The King’s Speech
James Franco, 127 Hours

Again, this is sort of an obvious one. Franco was decent. Bridges brought it, as usual. Eisenberg did a great job, and this role is certainly going to catapult him to mainstream stardom instead of being a poor man’s Michael Cera. But Colin Firth was incredible. He showed frustration, sadness, vulnerability, without overdoing it. And of course, the voice was brilliant. Listen to recordings, and it’s pretty eerie how close he sounds to King George.


Best Director
Darren Aronofsky, Black Swan
David O. Russel, The Fighter
Tom Hooper, The King’s Speech
The Coens, True Grit
David Fincher, The Social Network


Aaaagh. Best Director is really hard, because, as I’ve said, it’s really hard to separate it from editing and writing. I don’t think True Grit or The King’s Speech did enough for me to justify awarding those directors. The other three are tough. Really tough. I decided against Russell because of the aforementioned redundancy that pops up in a few places in The Fighter. Deciding between Fincher and Aronofsky is a toss-up, honestly. I gave it to Aronofsky because of one thing: a weird scene in The Social Network where we see the Winklevoss Twins come in second place in a race. It’s a very wink-wink, nudge-nudge type of moment, and it pulled me out of the movie. So Black Swan gets the trophy.

Best Film
Black Swan
The Fighter
Inception
The Kids Are All Right
The King’s Speech
127 Hours
The Social Network
Toy Story 3
True Grit
Winter’s Bone

I think I said all I need to say on this topic previously. Toy Story 3 is a masterpiece on multiple levels. It touched me, and was memorable on a level that none of the rest of the movies on the list will achieve (all right, I’ll probably remember the amputation scene from 127 Hours). It won’t win, of course. If I had to bet, I’d bet on The King’s Speech. But I wish the Academy would not discount films just because they’re animated. Pixar has been released what should have been Best Film contenders pretty much every year now. This time, they should win.

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(Classic) Review: “Herland,” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

“Life is a stuggle, has to be,” he insisted. “If there is no struggle, there is no life–that’s all.”


Utopian fiction is a tricky business. It’s generally a misnomer at best. Utopian fiction often falls into one of three categories: Utopia that turns out to be the utter opposite of paradise for some, if not all, of the inhabitants (dystopia); Utopia that turns out to be flawed in one way or another; or, a utopia that actually is heaven on Earth. The first two types of stories are generally more interesting. The third, unfortunately, is where Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s Herland falls.

That’s not to say there’s not some very interesting ideas here. Herland was written near the beginning of the 20th Century, and many of Gilman’s thoughts are ahead of her time. The main problem, however, lies in Gilman’s choice of outlet. What may have been better suited for an essay is instead formulated as a sort of adventure novel that never quite gives us an adventure.

Herland revolves around a simple premise. Somewhere in the unexplored jungle lies a pristine, modern paradise populated solely by women. A group of intrepid (not really) explorers stumble upon what they call Herland, and the inhabitants teach them their history, their culture and their way of life. That’s it. There are relatively few twists (the men try to escape at one point, fail, and are brought back). The ending isn’t too unexpected. It’s really more of a what-if essay than a fleshed out story.

In a somewhat interesting choice for feminist literature, Gilman uses male protagonists to filter the reader’s view of the issues at hand. Our viewpoint character is Van Jennings, a sort of middle-of-the-road kind of guy who can see both sides of any argument. This makes for a kind of boring and timid “hero” (if you can call him that, which, now that I think about it, no, no you can’t), but I can see why Gilman chose him. The reader is not really asked to follow along for any sweeping judgments. Instead, we identify with Van as he observes the other two male characters: Terry Nicholson and Jeff Margrave.

Terry is, to put it bluntly, an ass. He holds the traditional turn-of-the-century views of women, but escalated to sometimes comical levels. To Terry, women are silly little things with no real intelligence or capability, obviously the inferior sex, and only really necessary as a motivation for men. One of the best examples of his character: to him, the existence of Herland is less of a scientific impossibility than a social one. He argues against the concept of female-only reproduction (which, in one of the most speculative aspects of the story, is identified as parthenogenesis). But to him, the craziest part of this country is the idea of women living amongst themselves with no men to run the town, grow the crops, maintain and invent the technology and stop all that silly female bickering.

If Terry is the resident misogynist, Jeff resides squarely in the opposite side of crazy. He represents the pro-feminist camp, which is generally cool, but sometimes creepily approaches putting women on a pedastal (something, it should be mentioned, Terry does as well, but in more of a “women are so frail, they shouldn’t do work” kind of way). I’m not sure if this is intentional on Gilman’s part, or if Jeff is supposed to be a positive character and our modern ideas of feminism have just changed in the past 100 years. However, given the fact that Jeff is not our central character, I’d like to believe the former.

Jeff and Terry frequently spar over the roles of women in society, while Van watches on, giving us the novel’s only real conflict. Unfortunately, this conflict becomes repetitive almost immediately. The woman claim they have accomplished some spectacular achievement, Terry says no, that’s impossible because woman are stupid and silly, Jeff says nuh-uh cause women are awesome! All while Van nods his head and jots it all down in his mental notebook.

My other criticism, beyond the lack of a real plot, is that Gilman’s female characters all sort of run together. A strange thought, isn’t it? In a book about the exceptionalism of women, the women become exceptionally stale and boring. There’s really no difference in any of them. They’re all incredibly smart, capable, confident in themselves and their culture. The three women who end up getting paired off with the males (Ellador, Celis and Alima) seem different in temperament, but that’s only because they are given different situations to react to  (Alima, who gets to deal with Terry, is obviously going to behave differently than Celis, who gets Jeff).

So what’s to like about Herland? Gilman’s subtle references to feminist thinking of the time. In one of my favorite passages of the book, one of the women brings up the concept of being trapped in one’s own home and life:

“It’s not the same thing at all,” [Terry] insisted. “A man wants a home of his own, with his wife and family in it.”

“Staying in it? All the time?” asked Ellador. “Not imprisoned, surely!”

“Of course not! Living there–nautrally,” he answered.

The point being how silly it is to consider a woman’s confinement in her home “natural.” This is very likely a reference to Gilman’s own The Yellow Wallpaper (a speculative-ish feminist story surrounding a woman’s depression and confinement. It’s absolutely fantastic). It is also oddly similar to Virginia Woolf’s then-unwritten A Room of One’s Own, though exploring the idea of living quarters in opposite directions.

It is moments like these that made me sit up and evaluate Gilman’s work in the greater pantheon of feminist literature. To my disappointment, there were exceedingly few moments that made me sit up and consider her work in the realm of adventure or speculative fiction. Maybe this isn’t so bad. I’m sure Gilman was more concerned about her feminist themes than whether or not her work could be adapted into a Syfy Original Movie. But if one were to read, say, a feminist western, one would hope that the work had something to add to both of those genres.

The most relevant passage in the book seems to be the one I quoted at the beginning of this post. Terry asserts that life must be filled with struggles to be worthwhile, and the women inform him that, no, living in a perfect world is perfectly satisfactory. In my interpretation, Gilman is speaking directly to the reader at this point. It seems evident that she knew that her story was more about the themes and ideas than any sort of character development. And she seems okay with that. I guess, in the end, that’s all we can hope from an author — that everything they do is done with full knowledge and purpose.

For fans of feminist literature, Herland is sort of a must-read. In fact, I’d assume most fans of feminist literature have already read it. That’s like saying “If you’re a fan of fantasy, you simply must read this Tolkien fellow!” But, as it is a very early example of utopian/futurist fiction, it may be of interest to specfic fans. And if that’s your sole interest, you may want to skip Herland. It doesn’t go much further than its synopsis. Instead, for feminist science fiction, go for any of Margaret Atwood’s books (ignore her unfortunate views on science fiction), or the aforementioned work, Gilman’s seminal The Yellow Wallpaper.


Herland can be downloaded for free from Project Gutenberg.

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The Best Films of 2010, Part I

Okay, so this is a writing blog. Technically, I shouldn’t even be mentioning films. Es ist verboten. VERBOTEN!

However, since I don’t really have a dedicated cadre of readers expecting any certain subject, I am allowed the freedom to do whatever the fuck I want (like speak in German). With that said, let me introduce part eins of a two part series concerning films. Specifically, films released in 2010 (a year that seems universally reviled, but which I didn’t really mind).

In the first part, I’m going to lay out my picks for the best movies of the year. Unlike the Academy, I’m going to keep it to five. Ten starts to border on ridiculous, and to be honest, I’m not sure there were 10 films that truly deserve the honor. Look at the Golden Globes. When you have to nominate god damned Burlesque and The motherfucking Tourist, you have too many slots. Note that I’m not a movie buff, per se — there’s still a few big name films from 2010 I haven’t seen yet (127 Hours, The Fighter, and probably most egregious, The Social Network, which I’ll discuss at the bottom). With that said, let’s begin, in no special order.

1 – Black Swan 

Girl on girl action lolz! Nina is not amused.
First off, can I say how fucking stupid and dismissive it is when every single talk show host has to introduce this movie with “Any movie that can get guys to see a movie about ballet has got to be good! Derp derp! Girl on girl!” Black Swan is not about ballet any more than Fargo is about a city. It is the story of an artist struggling with perfection. It is the story of a family plagued by mental issues. It is the story of a girl forced to be sexual with no guide, no preparation. Black Swan is about a lot of things. It’s not about ballet.

Now, I’m a sucker for weird movies, so Black Swan already has a leg up on the competition. My imagination tends to run wild with interpretation, and the director, Darren Aronofsky (who looks kind of like a chubby David Arquette), certainly invites that. If you’re the kind of person who likes a straightforward story (and there’s nothing wrong with that), you’ll hate this. There’s no two ways about it.

But beyond the surreal plot, there is much in the film to objectively enjoy. Black Swan is truly a movie where each aspect hits the mark and contributes to the overall effect. The score is spot-on. It blends Tchaikovsky’s compositions with modern discernment to create a sound setting that is simultaneously chilling and heartbreaking. Portman’s performance as coddled and confused Nina Sayers is magnificent. Not being nominated for Best Actress would be a travesty. I don’t want to say that she can’t top it, because I’m hoping she has a long and illustrious career in front of her, but I truly think she could retire tomorrow and still be counted among history’s great performers solely for her job in this film. It’s that brilliant. The symbolism is layered and complex. I find myself discovering new little motifs just replaying it in my mind, and I’ve only seen it once. For instance, did anyone notice the implication of Nina injuring herself with a mirror, of all things? Very interesting.

There are missteps — Aronofsky relies too heavily on cheesy thriller tropes and unnecessary cheap scares. The characters and plot provide enough tension on their own. And I think it’s fair to say that this is a love-it-or-hate-it film. I can absolutely understand some people not connecting. But in pure impact, Black Swan was without equal this year.

Long hair is looooooooooong

2 – Tangled 

Okay, if I’m a sucker for weird movies, I’m a god damned fool for musicals. Disney musicals? Forget about it. Aladdin, Little Mermaid, Lion King. Love ’em. The Princess and the Frog wasn’t up to the level of those golden-age classics, but it was a step in the right direction. So I was cautiously optimistic walking in to Tangled. I expected to like it. I didn’t expect to love it.

You know the basics. Rapunzel has really long hair. She’s kept in a high tower by a wicked witch. She’s rescued my a handsome prince. Roll credits. Of course, with John Lasseter in charge, we’re spared that formula. Tangled’s Rapunzel is a bright young girl whose kept in her tower not by any otherworldly power or feminine weakness. She’s kept there by a jealous mother. Mommy dearest preys on her daughter’s self-confidence to bolster her own. It’s probably the best and most relatable theme in any movie I’ve seen this year, and it comes from a fairy tale. Imagine that.

Tangled is simply the best non-Pixar Disney animated film I’ve seen in ages, probably since Mulan (that’s twelve years, if you’re counting). And it’s got probably the best female lead in their entire history. She’s smart (and not just in a inconsequential way like Belle), she’s capable, she’s cute and she shirks the Princess Complex from the beginning. It’s weird to say that, because in the end, Rapunzel is a princess. But unlike Ariel, unlike Jasmine, unlike Snow White, that fact doesn’t really inform her character. She doesn’t find out until the end of the movie, and truthfully, it doesn’t matter. It’s more important that she has a family that loves her and a partner who bolsters her confidence instead of stomping on it. Her royal lineage is beside the point.

Of course, Alan Menken’s songs don’t hurt. The man who composed The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and Little Shop of Horros, among others, is used to great effect here. The recurring healing incantation (“Flower gleam and glow/Let your power shine”) is as memorable and head-sticking as any Disney tune, and I See The Light joins Can You Feel the Love Tonight and A Whole New World in the list of great musical love themes. I won’t say this is Menken’s best work (that probably belongs to Aladdin), and there are fewer songs than I’d like, but it’s enjoyable nontheless.

The actors work great. I’m not a huge Chuck fan, but Zachary Levi is charming as fuck, if you’ll excuse my French. And of course, Mandy Moore is as cute as cute can be. She’s one of those actresses who doesn’t draw a lot of attention, but generally gives a great performance in whatever she chooses to do. At the end of the movie, I asked myself “Who voiced Rapunzel? She was really good. Oh … oh wow! I didn’t even realize!” That’s just the kind of actress she is. But yeah, the two have chemistry. It just works.

Criticisms? A few. The movie felt short, was is probably a necessity for it to work as a family film, but it leads to the pace being a little too rushed. Specifically, the love story between the male and female lead kind of pops up out of nowhere, as if the writers realized “Crap, we need them to be in love now. Aaaaand BE IN LOVE!” And, as I said, I wished we got a bit more music (thought that’s a criticism I can levy at other Disney films as well — they seem to be afraid to go full musical). But all in all, this is one of those movies that makes me want to have a kid, just so I can show them that there are strong positive messages in this world.

3 – Toy Story 3

The darkest movie about small plastic
objects you’ll see this year

Seriously? Another animated movie?

First off, fuck you, guy. Who the fuck do you think you are? Did you not read the part of this being MY BLOG? The stuff about the German words?
Second off, it should go without saying that there are animated films, and then there are Pixar films. I shouldn’t even have to do a writeup for this. Just those two syllables — Picks Czar — tell you all you need to know. Yes, this movie is funny. Yes, it’s poignant. Yeah, you’re probably going to tear up. Yes, it’s got John Ratzenberger. At this point, I’m almost not even excited to go see a Pixar movie anymore, because I just know it’s going to be great. How fucked up is that? I’m actually disappointed because I know I’m not going to be surprised. It’s like they made Cars solely for me to maintain a modicum of doubt.
It has this man.

Okay, enough fanboy gushing. Why does another animated film deserve to be counted among the best of the year? Because it’s a masterful end (likely the end — it should be) to a wonderful series. Because it tears at your heart without using cheap shots like Toy Story 2 or even, it could be argued, Up. The melancholy in Toy Story 3 is directly relevant to the journey of the characters. Not just the journey in this movie, though it certainly stands on its own, but the journey from the beginning of the series. 

When Toy Story 1 was released in 1995, I was the target audience. I was 8 years old. That’s not to say it doesn’t stand up, or that adults can’t enjoy it just as much. Both of those are true. But Andy is and always has been the character whose life the events of the movie revolve around. Like Christopher Robin to Winnie-the-Pooh, Andy is the lens through which we view these persistent toys.
When Toy Story 3 was released in 2010, I was the target audience. What? This is still a kid’s movie, right? True. And you’re no longer a kid, you’re a 23. You’re a grown-ass man. True, too. But so is Andy. He’s moved on. His childhood, like mine, is gone. It’s never coming back. If the biggest misconception about Black Swan is that it’s about ballet, the misconception about Toy Story is that it’s about toys. It’s not. It’s about childhood. Always has been. Toy Story was about what it means to be a child. Toy Story 3 is about what it means to no longer be a child. That’s why we cry. Not because we’re afraid these toys are going to die, but because we fear the kid inside us already has.
And that, in a nutshell, is why Toy Story 3 deserves this honor. I could go in depth about the acting, the animation, Randy Newman’s classic quirky soundtrack, etc., etc. But that’s not why this movie is great. It’s great because Pixar understands how to make a film meaningful to every single person who watches it. My nieces and nephews aren’t going to understand these films the way I do, but they don’t enjoy them any less. My parents aren’t going to connect to them the same way I do. But they’re going to see it through Andy’s mother — they’ve sent a kid to college. They’ve been through the process of packing away those action figures that seemed oh-so-important just a few years ago. In some ways, this is my most hoped-for film of 2010. I think we can all be pretty sure that Tangled isn’t going to be nominated for Best Film. Even in a field of 10, the Academy isn’t a big fan of animation. We all know The Social Network and The Kids are All Right will be on the list. Regardless of their merit, they’re just the sort of films that appeal to critics. But Toy Story 3 transcends that. It truly deserves to be considered just as much as any live action film released this year.

Criticisms? Not really. The central conflict (toys shipped off to a kindergarten and have to escape) isn’t the most memorable or original, I guess. But who cares? 

!!Spoiler Alert!!
Before I leave the subject, a bit more on the death of the child inside us. That theme is one of the most gutwrenching ideas in any movie I’ve seen in a long time, because it hits close to home for all of us. But the filmmakers know that. And so they give us the perfect ending. Andy sits down and plays with his old toys with a new friend, a little girl named Bonnie. He plays in the same way that I play when my 3-year-old niece hands me a bowl full of plastic vegetables and tells me it’s my lunch. He plays in the same way I play when my 6-year-old nephew lays out a Nerf armory in front of me and tells me that I’m on his team. My inner child isn’t dead. He’s just finding new toys to play with.

4 – The Town

“And why do you think you deserve to
join The League of Handsome Men?”


Huh? No. Stop. Just stop. The Fucking Town? You’re nominating A Ben Affleck Joint? No Inception, no Blue Valentine, no King’s Speech, but you put a Bostonian heist film on here? That’s retahdid, you fuckin’ queeah.

Yeah, yeah, so it’s Ben Affleck. Yeah, he’s can be kind of silly. He was in Daredevil. He was in Gigli. GIGLI.

You know who else has been in some terrible movies and is kind of silly? Marky Mark Wahlberg. Oh, excuse me. ACADEMY AWARD WINNER Marky Mark Wahlberg.

So I try not to discount an actor solely because of some missteps, or some personal weirdness. If Robert Pattinson made a movie as entertaining as The Town, I’d get on my knees and receive his greasy glittering man-juice.

Obligatory. Say hi to your mother, plant.

Speaking of Marky Mark, I’d say The Town reminds me heavily of The Departed (a good thing!). The Boston setting and crime-focus is obviously a part of this, but they employ similar structures of unrelated characters and events winding into each other. The characters are forced into situations with no good options. It forces us to face what we would do these situations. But surely, you say, I’d never get involved with organized crime. But that’s the thing. Affleck’s character didn’t really choose this path either. These people are often times born into crime. That’s not to minimize personal responsibility — I feel like the movie does a decent job of keeping Affleck’s character real and imperfect — but the whole point of the film is to paint a picture of a world many of those of us born into privilege (and yes, I consider myself privileged just in the fact that I had a stable home, love and support) can never truly understand.
Of course, the acting is where The Town truly shines. Affleck is very good. Jeremy Renner is very good. John Hamm is great. Of course he is. He’s John Hamm. Brilliant casting. You want a flawed antagonist that the audience can’t help but find charming anyway? Cast John Hamm. Also, I hear he’s popular with the ladies.
The Town is not perfect. It treats its female characters as disposable. The lead character, Claire, is so forgettable that the writers literally forget about her in the second half of the movie. She’s used as motivation for Affleck’s character, and not much else. Blake Lively’s (bleh) character is pretty much a drugged up version of the same thing. The message regarding her seems to be “Don’t neglect your old lovers, or your rival will use them against you!” The females are pretty much just there for the males to use as leverage. It’s unfortunate. And yet, the rest of the film is good enough for me not to care. Not an easy thing to do. So yes, there always has to be a Dark Horse pick, and The Town is mine.

5 – True Grit

Aw, do we have to bring Matt Damon with us?

You’ll notice in the Black Swan entry that I didn’t quite say that Natalie Portman should win Best Actress. Why? 14-year-old Hailee Steinfeld. She’s so talented that she shared this year with Annette Benning, Marion Cotillard, and the best performance Natalie Portman has ever given, and I’m not really sure who should win the oscar. My biggest achievement at 14 was deciphering Metal Gear Solid 2.

Yeah, let’s see Little Miss Thing fit THIS into canon!

Ms. Steinfeld’s acting, and the handling of her character, the headstrong ahead-of-her-time Mattie Ross, is the sole reason True Grit is on the list. It might be the reason it’s on everybody’s list. Seriously. I struggled. It barely made the cut. True Grit is a pretty good movie. It’s not out of this world amazing. Jeff Bridges is funny. Matt Damon is good. The pace is perfect. It’s a Coen movie. Like Pixar, that name brings with it a certain quality of expectation. But, it must be said, it sometimes carries a nagging “So What?” True Grit brought the “So What?” It brought it, it unwrapped it, and it took a picture with it wearing a fake smile for grandma. It simply wasn’t that memorable. A cool adolescent girl tags along with a loose cannon US Marshal and a by-the-book Texas Ranger. She’s looking for the man who killed her father. She finds him. Thirty or so years later, she’s still smart, she doesn’t need a man and she never really saw either of the two men again. Roll credits.

The problem I have with True Grit is the problem I have with a lot of Coen movies. I’m not asking for a “save the world” plot. But I frequently feel like there’s some greater point, some deeper mystery that I’m missing. As you can tell from my Black Swan review, I am not opposed to finding my own meaning. But many Coen movies seem like simple, surface stories with just enough subtlety to make you think something else is going on. But damned if you’re going to figure it out unless you have a Ph.D. in Film Studies. 
So if it’s that flawed, why put True Grit on here at all? Because, simply, the character of Mattie Ross is that awesome. And I will fully admit to sometimes using that word inappropriately, but Mattie is truly awesome. When she speaks, you can’t help but be transfixed. When the “responsible” men leave her behind, and she fords the river, emerging on the other side, sopping but dignified, you can’t take the unconscious grin off your face. Some of it is due, no doubt, to the character in the original book. I can’t comment too much on that; I haven’t read it. Some of the credit has to be laid on the Coens. They coaxed a powerful performance from their child actress. And, of course, we can’t forget young Hailee. She brings Mattie to life. I can’t remember when I rooted for a character as much as I rooted for Mattie. You want her to succeed, even though the stakes seem fairly trivial, as far as conflicts go. If True Grit succeeds in any way, I think it’s that. It is a simple story, but Mattie makes you care about it anyway.
I wouldn’t be surprised if True Grit wins Best Film. The Academy loves the Coens, and it’s generally deserved. I have grievances with some of their films, but it can’t be denied that, objectively, they are fantastic filmmakers. This isn’t their best film (Fargo), and it’s not their worst (Burn After Reading). It is, as great movies go, completely middle of the road. And yet, if someone forced me to pick only 5 movies from 2010 for them to watch, I couldn’t not choose it. Damn you Joel. Damn you Ethan. You frustrate me to no end, but I love you anyway.

Honorable Mentions

The King’s Speech

Seriously, aren’t there any other
actresses in that country?

The King’s Speech breaks the mold of a traditional period piece. Colin Firth is fantastic, and is probably a shoe-in for best actor. The chemistry between Firth and Geoffry Rush is among the best I’ve seen in a long while. I particularly enjoyed the subtle focus on how technology changed both the world at large, and the lives of a royal family straddling two distinct periods. The story, untraditional as it may be, is pure charm. It’s not quite lifechanging enough to make the top five but I’m certain it’ll make the Academy’s top ten, and rightff …. rightffffuuu …. deservedly so.

Inception

The finest spintop-based film since  Beyblade The Movie
What can I say? It’s Inception. The acting is great, the gimmick is fascinating, and that action is superb. The rotating room is the most inventive fight scene since The Matrix. There are some plot holes here and there, and the pace falters in the third act (a snow level, Nolan? Really?), but it’s destined to be a genre classic.
Others
I greatly enjoyed Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, Easy A, Kick Ass, Harry Potter and the Adverb Macguffins: Part One, though none of those really deserve to be Best Film. They are just very entertaining. 
If there were a category for Best New Actress, it should go to Mia Wasikowska. She starred in Alice in wonderland and The Kids are All Right, the former of which I liked more than I had expected, and the latter of which I liked less than I had hoped.

Is she the third Wasikowska Brother?

All right. Moving on.

But wait, what about … 

…The Social Network. Yeah, I know. It’s the odds-on favorite to sweep the biggies. Best Film, Best Director, Best Writer. Maybe even Best Actor. Does it deserve it? I don’t know, maybe. I haven’t seen it. Shoot me.
I’ll be rectifying this tomorrow, but I wanted to get this out there before the nominations were announced. I’ll be considering Fincher’s film when I pick my favorites from the official nomination. I’ll let you know what I thought of it then. If you simply must know which of the above 5 I’d bump off to include The Social Network, assuming I love it, it’d probably be True Grit or The Town. Gun to my head, True Grit might fall to a very close #6.

I’ll be writing up Part II in the next few days, after the nods are announced. It’ll be the traditional rundown, selecting my favorites (note that word — it won’t be who I think will win, rather who I think should win). See you soon!

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A confession

I’ve finished NaNoWriMo (50,000 words, a small novel or novella) something like 4 times. I’ve yet to finish a story. That is about to change.

Of course, even when this story is done and I can write the words The End on the bottom of the page (and then promptly delete them — how cheesy would that be?), the novel is far from finished. Rewriting, adding, cutting (and cutting, and cutting): these are the things that turn mediocre ramblings into something that anyone would have half a mind to read. Take, for example, the first chapter I posted a few days ago. Nothing much has changed with regard to substance. Even when I first wrote it, more than a year ago now, it told the story of Victoria and her young ward, Emma, traveling to her former home of Arden to conscript her nephew. The story is the same. But the structure? The wording? The flow (or, in the case of the initial draft, lack thereof)? Day. And. Night.

So yes, I plan on replicating that process for each and every of the nearly fifty chapters (many of which may, thankfully, disappear entirely). But that’s for later. For now, I can’t stop being excited about the prospect of having a complete manuscript. It’s intoxicating, the idea that I could send this document (.odt, natch) to someone and have them comprehend the complete story the way I do. It would be a chore to read, oh yes, full of plot holes, inconsistent characters, time jumps and plodding description. But it would be a story with a beginning, middle and end.

It has been one of my lifelong dreams to write a book, regardless of whether or not I can send it into the world at large. And though I have many dreams, this one is nearing fruition. I can’t complain about that.

Matt Borgard is almost officially a novelist, I guess?

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(Classic) Review: “A Princess of Mars,” by Edgar Rice Burroughs

“So this was love! I had escaped it for all the years I had roamed the five continents and their encircling seas; in spite of beautiful women and urging opportunity; in spite of a half- desire for love and a constant search for my ideal, it had remained for me to fall furiously and hopelessly in love with a creature from another world…”


Ask anyone about Edgar Rice Burroughs, and one word will come to mind: Tarzan. Among all his works, Tarzan alone has become an integral part of our popular culture, to the point that any civilized-feral culture shock story will draw comparisons to the seminal character. However, in terms of literary influence, another one of Burroughs’s works may be even more important. His John Carter of Mars (or Barsoom, in the Martian native tongue) series serves as one of the earliest examples of a space opera*, featuring a faraway planet, strange creatures, a passionate romance, and, of course, martial combat.


The first novel in the series, A Princess of Mars, first introduces us to John Carter, a confederate soldier who is inexplicably transported to Mars. Once there, he finds out that the society is nearly barren of resources, and as such, has reverted in large part from an advanced, intelligent society to a number of barbaric, warring tribes. John jumps from tribe to tribe, learning their customs and befriending their natives, before finally setting off on a mission to save the entire planet from destruction. On the way, he meets the titular Princess (who unlike the four-armed insectoid Green Martians, is completely humanoid), and falls head over heels (as you can see in the quote above). One of the book’s weak points is its poor handling of female characters (something that, unfortunately, carried through to a lot of the science fiction genre). The Princess, Dejah Thoris, has little to no agency, and serves only as a damsel-in-distress, and, to a lesser extent, a source of exposition and explanation for John. The other main female character, a Green Martian, at least has a story and motivations, but is also placed in the story to spur a male character to action (in this case, Tars Tarkas, a Green Martian that John befriends).


APoM was released nearly a century ago, in 1912. The age of the book alone is dizzying, as many of the aspects of the story are considered genre tropes, though these are admittedly borrowed from older genres such as romances and westerns. The fact that “Princess” is getting a big budget film adaptation soon is ample evidence of this; it’s unlikely that they’ll even have to change a great deal of the plot. The only places that the book truly shows its age is in some of the antiquated phrasing, and the aforementioned outdated thinking (at one point, Carter comments that the princess’s naiveté is “good, feminine logic”).


That said, the book has some technical issues that even age doesn’t completely justify. This is understandable. A Princess of Mars was Burroughs’ first full novel (though the first Tarzan novel was published at the same time, I believe what would eventually become A Princess of Mars was written first), and some of the amateur mistakes shine through. The most glaring problem, in my opinion, is Burroughs’s ham-fisted use of foreshadowing — but foreshadowing is the wrong word. Fore-outright-telling-you-what-is-going-to-happen is the closest I can come to describing the issue. At one point, John Carter meets a ferocious Martian “dog” who attacks him, and comments, before even resolving the attack, that the dog would one day become his close companion and risk his live to save Carter. This occurs often in the early stages of the novel, when the characters are being introduced, and it gets old quickly.


The first Barsoom novel is probably not one that is going to keep a modern reader on the edge of his or her seat from cover to cover. It lags in places, and many events tend to be quite similar. For example, Carter first arrives at a tribe of barbarians and is forced to adapt and fight his way into their good graces. Later, he falls in with another tribe, and goes through the exact same process with a slightly different outcome. These issues are worth the read for Science Fiction literature fans, however, to experience such a significant piece of the genre’s history. At the very least, the next time you watch a science-fiction show or film you’ll be able to roll your eyes and say “ERB did that 100 years ago.”


Download A Princess of Mars for free at Project Gutenberg




*Technically, according to the experts at Wikipedia, the Barsoom novels are classified as “Planetary Romance,” not “Space Opera.” The distinction is mostly academic — the Barsoom novels certainly inspired later space operas, such like Star Wars.



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Review: “Deepsix,” by Jack McDevitt.


“That anyone could believe the human animal was designed by a divine being defies all logic… The more pious among us should pray that next time he does the job right. But we might in justice concede that there is one virtue to be found in the beast: he is persistent.” -Gregory MacAllister, “Bridge with the Polynesians”




Anyone familiar with my media consuming preferences knows how much I loathe entering a series from any point other than the very beginning. Every episode of a television show must be watched in perfect order, regardless of the strength of its continuity. I don’t really care that 95% of Bones episodes are self-contained, thank you, please change the channel until I’m caught up on this season.
So it was an interesting experience for me to find out halfway through Deepsix, the second novel in Jack McDevitt’s (unofficially named) Academy series, that I was missing out on a previous novel. That neurotic part of my brain that forces me to research chronology before reading a comic book immediately demanded I slam shut the cover and rush out to grab the first book, The Engines of God. However, after calming myself with a small cup of organic chocolate pudding, I realized that McDevitt had, thus far, done such a good job with characterization and (brief and rarely necessary) summaries of previous events, that I didn’t feel lost or out of the loop. So I pressed on (and God help the author if I ran into a “See ACADEMY #1!” footnote).
Deepsix is a deceptively simple tale — so simple that it’s somewhat difficult to discuss without giving away the twists and turns of the plot. The story revolves around the titular planet, a world teeming with exotic-yet-familiar wildlife, and the efforts of a small group of characters investigating it. Not much needs to be said. The expected plot points are hit: getting on, exploring, and getting off. Like any good story, the characters make the experience. And the characters here are fantastic.
Our main protagonist is Priscilla Hutchins, intergalactic pilot and star of McDevitt’s previous novel. To be honest, while Hutchins’s determined but down-to-earth attitude is perfect for the main viewpoint character, she’s not the most interesting member of the group. That distinction belongs to Gregory MacAllister, the most widely-known and widely-hated writer in the universe. I fully expected the misogynistic, misanthropic blowhard to play the “annoying sidekick” throughout the journey, finally redeeming himself in an unexpected act of heroics at the end while muttering “I … I still don’t like women!” at the end while the female characters bombarded him with appreciative kisses. This doesn’t happen. Instead, it’s an absolute joy to see how MacAllister’s many complaints about humanity are more philosophical than pragmatic. He doesn’t change drastically over the course of the novel — only our perceptions of him change. The rest of the characters are equally fleshed out, but considering MacAllister’s interesting persona and strong voice, Deepsix is clearly his book.
As is customary in most science fiction stories, the plot drives the narrative more than the characters. It’s simple, but it works — the team explores the planet, and in the end, must devise a way to get offplanet. The exploration is never boring, and it often raises a number of questions and mysteries about the inhabitants of Deepsix. Enough of these questions are left unanswered to keep the reader’s imagination, but enough are answered to avoid frustration.
Of course, no story can come without criticisms, and I have a few: First of all, the book is dense. It is dense in words, which isn’t so much a problem. The 500-odd (paperback) pages fly by, especially near the climax, when McDevitt ratchets up the tension. However, it is also dense in the number of characters and settings thrown into the mix. This issue resolves itself after the first hundred pages or so, when the author decides which characters to really focus in on. It really grates for those first few chapters, though. Characters are introduced with full names, viewpoint sections, and personality quirks — and then never heard from again. It’s damn overwhelming to try to keep track of them before you realize which ones you can forget about.
We’re also treated to an entire subplot — not even a subplot, really, as it takes up at least half of the book — about the flight crew’s efforts to weld some metal to their ships. I realize these sections are meant to give us a breath from the fast pace of the ground team. And these sections might be highly interesting to a civil engineer or hard, hard-scifi fan, as I’m sure all the descriptions of stress and atmospheric pressures and such are authentic. Nevertheless: 250 pages. About welding. I could have done with only, say, 100 pages, and been just fine.
As slow as these sections can be, however, McDevitt’s fleshed-out characters and compelling situations rise above it. I can’t recommend this book enough — I don’t remember enjoying a science fiction novel this much since Speaker for the Dead (and I reaaaaaally enjoyed Speaker for the Dead). Buy it and read it — no matter what your personal neuroses tell you.

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Mini-Review: Carrie by Stephen King

Carrie Carrie by Stephen King

What Stephen King’s first published novel lacks in literary merit, it makes up for in charm and originality. Carrie is not a long novel, and it’s not a particularly moving or emotional novel (though, the emotion of the menstruation metaphor may be lost on my male sensibilities). But it is an interesting novel, one that clearly shows the potential that King cashes in with his long, illustrious career.
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

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NaNo winds down — will I make it?

Just thought I’d throw up a quick status: Currently at ~27,000 words, with less than a week to go in NaNoWriMo. Many of those words are high quality. Many of them are not. Some of them are song lyrics and an almost completely unrelated script. But I will finish. I’m determined. Next Monday, I’ve got the whole day to crank out the close to 20,000 words I’ll need to make the 50k target. But it’s going to happen.

In other news, I’ve recently completed a script for the internet show I’m developing with a few friends. It’s short and sweet, and occurs right in the middle of the season, which has yet to be written. But I like it. It made me actually laugh, and I don’t normally laugh at my own writing, so that has to mean something. Here’ s a taste:

SEAN

OPEN! …on Martin Luther King Jr.

MAX

That could work.

SEAN

He’s been assassinated, and there’s blood everywhere

MATT

Jesus Christ, okay, we’re not doing this…

SEAN

Zoom in to his assassin, chugging a nice, refreshing Pepsi. Fade to the tagline: Pepsi: Not What You’d Expect.

MATT

Not only is that the worst advertisement I’ve ever heard, I’m not sure you actually understand the concept of product placement.

Finally, I’m finishing up Star by Star, which is probably the most important book in the New Jedi Order series, if not the entire EU. It’s pretty good so far — incredible by Star Wars novel standards, actually, but merely good by regular book standards. I’ll probably have a review of it up on December 1, after NaNoWriMo is done.

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Review: Get Down, by Asali Solomon

Get Down: Stories is a National Book Foundation 5 Under 35 Award-winning compilation from little-known author Asali Solomon. In Get Down, Solomon gives her readers fleshed out, unique characters set in the not-as-near-as-it-once-was past of the 1980s. As a book with an African-American author, whose characters all happen to be black, it would be easy to categorize this book as the cliche “exploration of what it means to be black in America.” And there is some of that, to be sure. But Solomon achieves something much greater. Her characters are not defined by their skin color or their culture, as seems to be the case in so many so-called “ethnic” novels. Instead, she creates her characters with specific quirks and goals, such that their blackness is just one part of their multifaceted identity.

The first story, Twelve Takes Thea, is probably the most focues on the “minority issues” in America. It features a twelve-year-old girl, the titular Thea, struggling with fitting in among her classmates, most of which are white. Her best friend is another young black girl, who happens to transfer to a different school soon after the story begins, and an Indian girl whom Thea cannot quite wrap her mind around. This story twists and turns toward an emotional ending, though Solomon uses a sort of strange flash-forward device that I feel is somewhat unnecessary. Twelve Takes Thea would be something I would highly recommend to younger (middle school) readers, both because of relevant reading level and subject matter (though, the rest of this book does not follow this trend at all).


That Golden Summer and Party on, Vorhees! are two of the book’s shortest stories, both checking in at around 10-15 pages. I’m lumping them together because they share a common theme and structure: an adolescent trying to embrace their approaching adulthood, and getting into a dangerous situation because of it. Both stories are somewhat lacking in plot — Vorhees in particular seems to just ramble on without any real goal — but they make up for it in character. While Golden Summer focuses mainly on the child, Vorhees has a group of children, as well as an older woman who recounts her days as a mischievous youth, hopping from party to party. Solomon is able to reveal a lot about her characters simply by the way this woman tells her story, the way the children react to it, and the way the main character, who has presumably heard it time and time again, recounts it to the audience.

William Is Telling A Story is quite a departure from the other pieces in the book. It features a young man named William who is apparently struggling with his sexuality — but not in a commonly seen way. He is comfortable relating to his friends that he had a sexual experience with a man named Kelly, and he still seems interested in chasing women. However, he can’t seem to get Kelly off of his mind. It’s an extremely complex tale — probably the best one in the book, though maybe not the most enjoyable — so I won’t try to do it justice here. Suffice it to say that Solomon takes a complicated and sensitive topic and draws it in a fresh, respectful light.

My favorite story has to be The Star of the Story. This story is unique among the others, in that it features the viewpoints of two character weaved in and out of each other. The mother, Akousa, is an older woman seeking to rekindle a flame she had in the past, while her son, Eduardo, is a large outgoing boy with an unhealthy obsession with his cousin. The story isn’t perfect — Solomon takes a risk putting the two largely unrelated narratives together, and I don’t think she treats the topic of child rape with the sensitivity it really deserves — but it’s engaging and thought-provoking.

I won’t talk about the other two stories, mostly because they are fairly simplistic, when compared to the other pieces. One is cute and enjoyable to read — the other, not so much.

Finally, I have to address the comment a woman in my reading group made. She said she thought the book was “crap,” not because of the writing, but because they weren’t “her type of stories.” I’m pretty sure I know what she means — she’s white, so she feels like she can’t connect with the characters and immediately turns herself off from the writing. That’s unfortunate. I’ll be blunt, and say that there are stories where a certain demographic is writing for that demographic, and they don’t expect or desire anyone outside of that to be a part of the readership; there are many examples of men-writing-for-men or women-writing-for-women where the opposite gender is not encouraged to participate. However, Get Down does not even approach that sort of genre. For all its flaws, Get Down shines brightly at its best moments, and its casual-yet-masterful style pulled me in and held me tight. Solomon does not put forth the idea that she prefers one type of reader to the other — if you have problems “relating” to her story, that is most certainly your problem.