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Archive for category Historical

The Three Musketeers (Disney, 1993)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Film & TV, Historical | 1 Comment

We all have those perfect films, the ones in which everything comes together, the story shines, the characters click, and the entire movie is resonate. That rare movie you can watch unlimited times, and keep going back for more. Where nothing disappoints, and everything excites. Forget what the critics say, forget what your friends say, forget everything but that, for you, this movie is damned near perfect. We all have those pantheons in our heads. And for me, the 1993 Disney version of The Three Musketeers ranks right up there as one of my all-time favorites.

I’ve never read the novel by Alexandre Dumas. Lord knows I’ve tried but, to be honest, epic French fiction just isn’t my thing at all. I prefer what others make of the stories far more than I do the originals. I like the concepts, the themes, the nature of the stories. I enjoy stories told on such broad, sweeping levels with such multi-layered, three-dimensional strokes. I enjoy Les Miserables. I greatly enjoyed the recent Count of Monte Cristo remake. And I hold The Three Musketeers up as an example of how to do something right.

I understand that they took more than a few liberties in trying to compress the original French paperweight into a feature-length film. How many subplots, characters, and themes must have been cast by the wayside? What language was ripped to shreds or replaced entirely? How could anyone hope to stay absolutely true to the original text? Well, as I said to those who doubted The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring, “Accept change.” Accept that what they did for this movie was to take the book, the very essence of the story, and distill it down into its barest, most profound nature, and start fresh.

The basic storyline is, at its root, simple: The greatest of King Louis’ Musketeers, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, must prevent the evil Cardinal Richelieu from securing an alliance with the English Duke of Buckingham, assassinating King Louis XIV, and taking over France. They’re joined by an eager newcomer and would-be Musketeer, D’Artagnan, who desperately seeks to live up to his slain father’s example of heroism. To complicate matters, the Musketeers have been disbanded, and our heroes are on the run from the Cardinal’s men and allies, including the expelled Musketeer, Rochefort, and the deadly femme fatale, Lady Sabine DeWinter. It’s an exciting and danger-fraught race against time to save the King and France. That’s the basic story. It’s filled with twists and turns, chases and duels, captures and escapes. D’Artagnan, in particular, falls into trouble with frightening regularity, but always at the right time to overhear a crucial detail or foil a vital part of the evil plan. Meanwhile, the others struggle with their various quirks and quips, though it must be said, the movie goes heavy on quips and action, relatively light on the more profound elements.

The characters shine; the actors have just the right chemistry, playing off one another with near-perfect comic timing. Charlie Sheen stars as the religious (yet attractive to women) Aramis, while Keifer Sutherland takes a turn as the intense, driven “leader” of the group, Athos, whose shadowed past may rise up to bite him once again. It’s a sad fact that, when I try to recall this movie, the two of them manage to blend into one uber-Musketeer, overshadowed as they are by the rest of their illustrious companions. Neither Sheen nor Sutherland disappoint, they merely have trouble standing out from one another… a rare fault in an otherwise wonderful movie. Oliver Platt, as the cheerfully over-the-top Porthos, steals the show every chance he gets. This Porthos is confident, creative, and armed with a saucy or pithy quip for every occasion. Spouting sayings like, ‘This scarf was a gift to me from the Tzarina of Tokyo” and “This Bible belonged to the Empress of America”, sporting nifty-keen weapons such as a sword-breaker and a keenly-thrown bolo, he swaggers through the movie shamelessly. I’ve always enjoyed Oliver Platt’s work; his range of facial expression and ability to play comic characters without descending into buffoonery has always been a highlight of any movie he’s in. In this film, he rules. He’s perhaps the most anachronistic, his phrasings often suspiciously modern but, in the atmosphere he brings with him, it’s acceptable. Chris O’ Donnell turns in a brilliant performance as the wide-eyed, Musketeer-idolizing, overconfident neophyte, capable of arranging three duels in one day and believing he’ll survive them all. A sucker for a pretty face, the stranger in the crowd, he’s set up as the viewpoint for the story, so that we follow him through the action. Through this oft-used but still serviceable trope, we are introduced to the world of the Musketeers from the viewpoint of someone lacking in that experience.

The villains are every bit as delightful as the heroes. Tim Curry is larger-than-life, a moustache-twirling, sneering evil genius, in the guise of Cardinal Richelieu. He’s capable of ordering a man’s death or plotting an assassination, able to sway people with his used car salesman oily charm, perfectly at home sweeping through rooms in his blood-red robes. He’s ambitious and dangerous, without mercy or hope of redemption, broadly painted as the bad guy, and he excels. His trusty accomplice, the one-eyed ex-Musketeer, Rochefort (played by Michael Wincott), is dark and sinister, speaking his pronouncements of doom in a gravelly voice. Dressed in black, he makes the perfect right-hand-villain, his personal history with the Musketeers giving their exchanges that snap and bite you only find among ex-coworkers or ex-lovers. And he’s set up as D’Artagnan’s arch-enemy, the first true test of his heroic status, in a clever manner. Rebecca De Mornay is a seductive ice queen as Lady Sabine DeWinter, the Cardinal’s distrusting messenger and occasional personal foil. She’s always in control, cool and collected, pale and beautiful, and the most dangerous of the lot.

This is a movie with an ear for dialogue and a way with snappy repartee. The Musketeers banter to one another while barreling along on a stolen coach, the Cardinal’s men in hot pursuit. D’Artagnan trades insults with Porthos and friends. Lady DeWinter and the Cardinal threaten each other as each tests the other’s resolve. Perhaps it’s a bit too light and witty at times, but it’s fun all the same.

The action sequences are exciting, swashbuckling sword-fights that take advantage of multiple levels, runaway horses, stairs, chandeliers, boats, and various opponents. This is no wire-fighting extravaganza as the recent Musketeer was but, in its own way, these sequences are just as thrilling.

Throw in an elegant soundtrack featuring the Bryan Adams/Rod Stewart/Sting collaboration “All For Love”, and sweeping operatic symphonies in the background, exquisite costuming and gorgeous locations for the scenery and, all in all, what you have is a genuinely enjoyable, unashamedly fun movie that takes the very best of The Three Musketeers and translates them for a new audience. Disney may not always respect the source material (as witnessed by the animated Hunchback of Notre Dame), but when they do something right, they really outdo themselves.

The Three Musketeers was directed by Stephen Herek, and adapted from the original novel by Alexandre Dumas for screenplay by David Loughery. It starred Chris O’Donnell (D’Artagnan), Keifer Sutherland (Athos), Charlie Sheen (Aramis), Oliver Platt (Porthos), Tim Curry (Cardinal Richelieu), Rebecca De Mornay (Lady DeWinter), Michael Wincott (Rochefort), Hugh O’Conor (King Louis XIV), Julie Delpy (Constance) and Gabrielle Anwar (Queen Anne). It runs 105 minutes and is available on tape or DVD.

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The Gates of Sleep, by Mercedes Lackey (Daw Books, 2002)

Jul 20

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology, Historical, Urban Fantasy | No Comments

The classic tale of Sleeping Beauty is reimagined and retold with a Victorian flavor in this new offering by Mercedes Lackey. Like her previous book in the Elemental Masters series, The Serpent’s Shadow, this one brings the sensibilities and customs of turn-of-the-century England to life with a vivid, thorough eye for detail. All of the familiar elements from the fairy tale are here, but the story itself has undergone more than cosmetic changes in order to give us a new spin on the narrative.

It all begins with the birth of Marina Roeswood to Elemental mages Alanna and Hugh Roeswood. Her parents have invited a number of their fellow magi friends and acquaintances to a magical christening for the infant, and all but one of the attendees have bestowed their gifts: skillful hands and deft fingers, an appreciation for music, blithe spirits, physical grace. One of them, the respected Roderick Bacon, grants the infant mage-to-be with a most potent gift indeed: alliance with his own affinity with Air magics and elementals. One gift remains, but an unexpected visitor appears…

Arachne Roeswood, long-estranged sister to Hugh, returned after a period of absence. No mage in her own right, she still has the power to curse Marina with a future death, revenge for a lifetime of imagined slights and quarrels.

Only the timely intervention of the last gift-giver, Elizabeth Hastings, twists the potent curse into a -potential- curse. Should Arachne be unable to trigger it by the time Marina achieves her eighteenth birthday, a feat only capable in close proximity, it will rebound upon the caster.

This is still enough to shatter the happy occasion and sunder the Roeswoods. That very night, Marina is spirited away by several friends of her family, to be raised in obscurity on an estate far off in Cornwall, never to see her parents again lest Arachne find a way to activate her curse. Seventeen years will pass in such fashion, Marina raised with love and care by her Bohemian, artistic magi “aunt and uncles” while her parents send her letters from afar.

She is given a progressive, artistic education, encouraged to grow into her creatively free spirit, and to begin mastering the Water magics that are her birthright. She’s happy, though never sure why her parents sent her away. When she is seventeen, her life is thrown into turmoil once again.

Alanna and Hugh Roeswood are dead in a boating accident, tragically lost. Their estate has reverted to the control of Marina’s mysterious Aunt Arachne, who demands that her niece be remanded into her care … immediately. The law on Arachne’s side, Marina and her foster family have no choice. Marina must return to Oakhurst Manor, the family’s ancestral home, and learn to be a proper lady, rather than a free spirit. Is Arachne a concerned relative and guardian preparing her for High Society in London, or a jailer with a much darker purpose at hand? Is Marina’s cousin Reggie a spoiled playboy, or a young man with a deadly and diabolical secret?

Marina will be forced to work quietly and secretively, gathering to her what few allies she can, for not all of Oakhurst’s servants are loyal to Arachne. If she can just find a way to get a message to Aunt Margherita, Uncle Sebastian, or Uncle Thomas, all the way back in Cornwall, perhaps they can rescue her from the fate that steadily approaches her. If she can gain the aid of the village priest, or Andrew Pike, the odd young doctor who is converting a local manor into a sanitarium for the mentally ill, maybe she’ll have a chance. But time is running out for Marina and Arachne both, and the curse looms, ready to strike at any moment.

In the end, only Marina herself can turn the tide and thwart destiny. Her friends, relatives, and allies can treat the symptoms, but not the actual disease. They’ll need to hunt down the source of Arachne’s unholy magics, and prevent her from destroying any more innocent lives in her corrupt drive for the magic she doesn’t deserve. And in the end, someone may even live happily ever after….

The Gates of Sleep is a clever retelling, one that uses all of the familiar elements and themes of the old fairy tale, while transplanting them to a different setting. There are enough twists and turns to keep the reader guessing, without abandoning the spirit of the source material. While at times the characters do seem to be a bit black and white — Arachne is Evil, Marina is Good, the Prince Charming/Doctor is Kind and Altruistic and Idealistic — they’re still far more complex than the broadly stroked characters of the salon tales this is inspired by.

Lackey manages to bring the charm and complexity of early 20th century England to life in all its color, investing it with magic at every turn, from the fey Elemental creatures of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, to the dark beings born from unholy ritual and destroyed lives. In the end, what we have is a thoroughly enjoyable, worthy retelling of a familiar story in an intriguing and sometimes-unusual setting. Recommended for Mercedes Lackey fans, those who enjoy Victorian or Regency-era romances, or retold fairy tales.

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The Complete Big Books of… Review

Jul 19

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology, Graphic Novels & Picture Books, Historical, Non-Fiction & Reference | No Comments

The Big Book of the ’70s, by Jonathan Vankin (Paradox Press, 2000)
The Big Book of Bad, by Jonathan Vankin (Paradox Press, 1998)
The Big Book of Conspiracies, by Doug Moench, (Paradox Press, 1995)
The Big Book of Death, by Bronwyn Carlton (Paradox Press, 1995)
The Big Book of Freaks, by Gahan Wilson, et al. (Paradox Press, 1996)
The Big Book of Grimm, by Jonathan Vankin (Paradox Press, 1999)
The Big Book of Hoaxes, by Carl Sifakis, et al., (Paradox Press, 1996)
The Big Book of Little Criminals, by George Hagenauer, et al. (Paradox Press, 1996)
The Big Book of Losers, by Paul Kirchner (Paradox Press, 1997)
The Big Book of Martyrs, by John Wagner (Paradox Press, 1997)
The Big Book of Scandal, by Jonathan Vankin (Paradox Press, 1997)
The Big Book of Thugs, by Joel Rose (Paradox Press, 1996)
The Big Book of the Unexplained, by Doug Moench, (Paradox Press, 1997)
The Big Book of Urban Legends, by Jan Harold Brunvald, adapted by Robert Loren Fleming and Robert F. Boyd, Jr. (Paradox Press, 1994)
The Big Book of Vice, by Steve Vance (Paradox Press, 1999)
The Big Book of The Weird Wild West, by Steve Vance and John Whalen (Paradox Press, 1998)
The Big Book of Weirdoes, by Carl Posey (Paradox Press, 1995)

It’s no secret that we live in an increasingly bizarre, inexplicable, unpredictable, and generally messed-up world. How often do we read something in the news, and go ‘Oh, that’s just not right!’ We thrill to urban legends, alternately denouncing and upholding them, doing our part to propagate stories of alligators in the sewers and poodles in the microwave. We spread around stories about the Darwin Awards, given out to people who go above and beyond the call of duty to remove themselves from the gene pool in spectacularly messy and often embarrassing ways. We tell jokes about public figures, and examine every crack in the facade of society. In short, we’ve done a lot with free will, most of it strange.

If that’s not enough, the world itself seems to conspire against our sanity. Prehistoric serpents swim in the lakes, hairy monsters stalk the woods, crop circles and UFOs are spotted frequently. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on reality, it comes back to bite you in the rear, as it were.

Between 1994 and 2000, Paradox Press, an imprint of DC Comics, released a set of books collecting and examining the weirdest, wackiest, most outrageous material they could find, ranging across the spectrum of popular culture, obscure history, embarrassing moments in society, grim (and Grimm) fascinations, and that part of our soul that we never, ever listen to enough.

Seventeen books in all have been released to date in the Big Book series, seventeen distinct chapters in an encyclopedic compendium of strange.

The format is uniform across the line. Each is the size of a magazine, weighing in at 200 pages, give or take a few. These are well-designed, sturdy volumes which will look good on any shelf. Essentially, they’re graphic novels, with the numerous entries in each book written either by one author or one of several, and illustrated by any one of dozens of different artists. That’s right, one book can include upwards of 70 artists or more, featuring a wildly varying range of styles. While listing them all would be prohibitive, some regular and familiar names include Gahan Wilson, Sergio Aragones (of Mad Magazine and Groo fame), Eddie Campbell (the From Hell graphic novel), Phil Jiminez (current writer and artist of Wonder Woman), Colleen Doran (A Distant Soil), Frank Quietly (The Authority, New X-Men), and so many more. Those with any knowledge of comic books, graphic novels, or alternative media will likely see quite a few familiar names and styles here.

Each book has its theme and sticks to it, with the remarkable result of maintaining very little overlap between books. As for those specific themes, we’ll address each book individually. For the ease of sanity, I’ve chosen to go in alphabetical order, since they can be read in any order or way you desire.

The Big Book of the ’70′s is by Jonathan Vankin, who may have done more Big Books than any other writer. The theme is, yes, you guessed it, that fabulously tacky, turbulent time of change that managed to both embarrass and enrapture society. Vankin covers everything from fads (sex, partying, fashion, disco, streaking, and the ever-popular useless crap) to people (such as Evel Knievel, Burt Reynolds, John Lennon, The Fonz, and Jimmy Carter). There’s women’s liberation, Patty Hearst, the energy crisis, the Moonies, Skylab’s demise, Son of Sam, and the Iran Hostage Crisis. There’s the entertainment explosion: McDonalds, baseball, Sesame Street, glam rock, punk rock, monsters of rock. There’s the Bicentennial, Richard Nixon, and “jiggle” shows like Charlie’s Angels. This book manages to capture all of the quintessential moments, fads, celebrities and incidents that made up this decade. Folks, this is the decade I was born into, and I’m perversely glad I don’t remember it, some days. However, as uncomfortable as some of these things seem now (disco and leisure suits, for example), they’re valid and fun to think back on. Like all the books in the series, this is an entertaining look at an odd point in our history.

Jonathan Vankin also gives us The Big Book of Bad, which takes a look at things that maybe we really should have thought through better. First we have bad guys, such as Pol Pot, Stalin, Himmler, Basil the Bulgar Slayer, and the worst of the Roman emperors. Then we move over to look at a few of literature’s worst offenders: Moriarty, Modred, Long John Silver, Dracula, and more. After that, the book takes on entire groups of people based on really bad ideas, such as the Spanish Inquisition, the Salem Witch Hunt, the KKK, and McCarthyism. There’s bad science, and Bad Sports, a double entendre title to address some of the sports world’s worst people, including Mike Tyson and Ty Cobb. Finally, there’re things that were (and still are) just in bad taste; Liberace is just one of the many examples in this section.

Doug Moench takes over for a twisted and paranoid visit to The Big Book of Conspiracies. Yes, they’re out to get you. Who killed Kennedy? What’s the CIA -really- been up to? What’s the secret of the Face on Mars? What’s the story behind the Magic Bullet? The CIA working with the Nazis, say it ain’t so. How has The Man kept cannabis down when it’s good for so much? Take my word for it, if the truth is in here, it’s struggling to get out. Whether your conspiracy of choice involves the Masons, the Boy Scouts, the Illuminati, or the PTA, it’s bound to be in here. Some of the evidence is pretty convincing, other parts are outlandish, and the book makes no claims to know the one true story. But it’s sure fun to wonder.

Fascinated by death? Bronwyn Carlton certainly is, enough to write The Big Book of Death. She takes us on a gruesome tour of the big sleep, starting with the many methods of capital punishment we’ve thought up. She addresses the myth/reality of postal rage-turned-homicide, teen suicide, stupid murders, and even the infamous Dr, Kevorkian. There’s mass death, with our friends the Black Death, Typhoid Mary, and tuberculosis. There’s weird death, including spontaneous combustion, and dozens of other bizarre ways to kick the bucket, from swallowing pennies to being crushed by ice cream treats. She doesn’t flinch away from the delicate subject of body disposal, detailing practices such as embalming, burial, cremation, mummification, and even cryonics. She leads us on a walking tour of the world’s most notorious cemeteries, including Forest Lawn and Le Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise. No rest for the weary? That’s the title for a chapter that touches on vampires, cannibals, and saving Sakharov’s brain. Do we have issues with death? Dante’s tour of Hell certainly suggests it. Famous last words and near-death experiences likewise suggest that the final moment may be more interesting than we imagined. While the subject matter may be a bit much for the squeamish, and it’s certainly not upbeat, it’s thorough, informative, and interesting.

Let’s try something a little … different. Famed cartoonist Gahan Wilson brings along a few of his friends for The Big Book of Freaks. If they’re weird, they’re in here. From Barnum’s freaks (such as Jo-Jo the Dog-Faced Boy, Jumbo the elephant, and assorted giants) to Siamese twins, from bearded ladies to snake charmers, from geeks to the tattooed prince, from real freaks to manufactured freaks, they’re all here. It’s the genetic upsets, oops, mishaps, and societal flubs that make life so interesting. Given Gahan Wilson’s unique style of cartooning, it’s no wonder he feels such an affinity with the oddities of the world.

Next is something truly near and dear to our hearts here at Green Man: The Big Book of Grimm, adapted from the works of the good Brothers Grimm by Jonathan Vankin. In it he cheerfully retells several dozen of Grimm’s finest fairy tales, sparing us none of the gore or gruesome details. These aren’t the sanitized versions; these are the ones with amputated limbs, horrible deaths, hungry wolves, vicious stepmothers, dysfunctional families, unhappy childhoods, even unhappier marriages, and harsh life lessons. Cinderella is here, as is Rapunzel, Clever Hans, the Goose Girl, Hans My Hedgehog (a humanoid hedgehog, he plays the bagpipes and rides a giant rooster, I kid you not), and many more, both well-known and obscure. If you love fairy tales as they should be, this is the Big Book for you. The book stays true to the material, and the illustrated stories are lovely. Just think twice before showing these to your children…. (I’m still worried by the hedgehog!)

Our next stop is for the gullible, with The Big Book of Hoaxes. Meet the scammers, grifters, con men, too-clever conspirators, and everyone who’s ever tried to pull the wool over someone’s eyes. All our old favorites are here, from the Hitler diaries to the Zion Protocols, from the Cottingley Fairy photos to the Piltdown Man, from the Boxer Rebellion which started as a way to sell newspapers to get-rich-quick schemes. Meet the people who wanted to saw Manhattan in half, and the original cloned human. These are very naughty people by any standards, experts at separating a man from his money, and often from his credibility as well. Pickpockets, mall check hustlers, badgers and pigeons, they’re all here.

On a like note we have The Big Book of Little Criminals, written by George Hagenauer and several others. Not everyone can be a successful major criminal. This book is dedicated to all the small-timers, “thugs, mugs, and slugs” and more.From small-time hoods to hustlers, from forgers to fakers, from ‘disorganized’ crime to the most dangerous women in the field, and finally to some spectacular heists, this one runs the gamut. Whether it’s trying to buy Portugal, counterfeit one-dollar bills, steal Arizona, swipe the Mona Lisa, get sent up the river, or hijack an airplane, these guys have done it: Al Capone, Ma Barker, D. B. Cooper. Louie “Pretty” Amberg, the ugliest gangster in town, shares space with “Dasher” Abbandando, the fastest killer on the block. These people have big dreams, but they don’t always follow through. And when they do, who knows what’ll happen? This is for all the Criminology majors out there.

If you want to feel better about your lot in life, pick up The Big Book of Losers by Paul Kirchner (Fabulous Flops and Fabulous Fads, Nancy A. Collins, and Irwin Chusid. In here are the people who just couldn’t seem to get a break, no matter how they tried. The ones who never made it to the White House, and the ones who did, like James Garfield (killed by medicine) and William Henry Harrison (killed by the weather). Leon Trotsky, who wasn’t welcome at home, and Montezuma, who welcomed the wrong people into his home. There’s the Edsel, the paper dress, and New Coke. Women’s urinals (which make great flowerpots), the picturephone (whose niche has been filled by webcams, if you ask me), smokeless cigarettes (a losing proposition at any price), and the Susie B. dollar coin. Milli Vanilli gets the spotlight, as does Carrie: The Musical. Look back at Custer’s Last Stand, the Maginot Line, and Watergate. Even science has its blunders, when you stop to consider the pneumatic subway, Edison’s cement housing, Mark Twain’s disastrous investments, and Howard Hughes and the infamous Spruce Goose wooden airplane. There’re lost explorers and downed airmen, screwed-up pirates, and mutineers. This book proves we can’t all be winners.

How willing are -you- to die for your beliefs? John Wagner tells the stories of over four dozen men and women who’ve sacrificed their lives in the line of duty, in The Big Book of Martyrs. From apostles to disciples, we look at John the Baptist, Peter, Stephen, Paul and Bartholomew. Try some of the other martyrs: Clement, Ignatius, Polycarp, Laurence, Vitus, Agnes or Blaise, who all met their messy ends in the age of persecution. From popes and kings to slaves and gardeners, we have Thomas Becket and Thomas More, Agatha and Wenceslas. We have soldiers who turned the other cheek, such as Alban, Edmund, Olaf and Joan of Arc. We have the legendary saints: Christopher, Valentine, George, Philomena, and of course Ursula and the 11,000 virgins. (There’s a band name for you!) Even today we have martyrs, whether it’s in Vietnam or Uganda, North America or Nagasaki. If your interests lie in religious trivia, or just in general curiosity, this is a fascinating, if occasionally depressing, book. You’d think we could all just get along….

So maybe losers and martyrs aren’t your thing. Maybe you like seeing people get what they deserve. Jonathan Vankin is back with The Big Book of Scandal! to enlighten us and expose the stupid and unlucky. Everyone in this book has feet of clay: Fatty Arbuckle, Charlie Chaplin, Ingrid Bergman, Heidi Fleiss, Woody Allen, even Rudolph Valentino, all examples of Hollywood’s less stellar moments. Maybe you’d rather see Jimmy Swaggart, or Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, or O. J. Simpson, or Michael Jackson get their comeuppance. What about the Iran-Contra affair, the business at Watergate, the great mistakes of the Kennedy family, philandering politicians? Oh yes. It’s all in here. Every last blot and blemish and instance where someone got caught with their hand in the cookie jar … or down the intern’s pants. There’s bad bankers, screwball scientists, and even the dangers of cyberporn, back before it really became an issue. Never before have so many been exposed for so little. Although exposed is such a … sensitive term for some of these poor people.

Joel Rose gives us a wry look at some other bad people in The Big Book of Thugs. Starting with the legendary cult of the Thugees, this book details all of those groups and individuals who’ve made their living terrorizing others. Gangs, posses, mobs, societies, families, and random gatherings are included. Some of these people make me scared to go outside. There’re stranglers, regulators, lynchers, rustlers, and spankers, roughnecks and more. Enjoy getting to know the nastiest men and women around, from a safe distance.

Doug Moench returns with The Big Book of the Unexplained. Like the Big Book of Conspiracies, this book looks at the truly bizarre things that make life as we know it so exciting. Alien abductions and UFOs have their place beside the Loch Ness Monsters, the Men in Black, the Mothman, the Goatsucker, and Bigfoot. Ghosts and bizarre creatures, even James Dean’s cursed car, are to be found here. Go ahead, you know you want to take a peek at the Kentucky goblins, kraken, and random examples of what could only be a great cosmic trickster having a laugh at our expense. This is good stuff, folks, whether it’s real or not.

Next up are 200 stories brought forth from the works of famed folklorist Jan Harold Brunvald in what else but The Big Book of Urban Legends. Lovingly recreated in cartoon format are all of the classics. Spider-infested hairdos, choking Dobermans, the “baby train,” resubmitted term papers, exploding toilets, microwaved pets, dead roommates, serial killers, sex romps, hitchhikers, exam pranks, and many, many more. If you’ve heard an urban legend, it’s probably in here. It’s great to see what we’ll actually believe to be true, and wonder what might have inspired it. This is definitely one of the best books in a consistently good series.

Still with me? Steve Vance and Dave Stern take us on a tour of all things naughty with The Big Book of Vice. That’s right, it’s some of our favorite things: sex, drugs, alcohol, gambling, tobacco, and sin cities. Mmmm-boy. Pimps and prostitutes, madams and porn kings, cigarettes and cigars, Las Vegas, cocaine, hemp, LSD, Timothy Leary, caffeine fiends, moonshine, marijuana, opium … if it can be eaten, drunk, smoked, snorted, or wagered, it’s probably one of the vices or topics found here. Even comic books and candy and trading cards have their moment. This is a great book to give to your favorite priest … or maybe not. Just don’t think it’s a checklist of things you absolutely must do (like some reportedly do with the Purity Test!). It’s fun to see what we get up to in our spare time … and sobering.

John Whalen and friends escort us back to one of the wildest, weirdest times in American history in The Big Book of the Weird Wild West. It’s all about gunfighters, strange legends and crackpot characters, killers and cannibals. We’re told about the bigger-than-life people who made their livings and legends in that over-the-top period. Back then it seemed people would believe everything, and the dime novels that turned killers into heroes and minor hoodlums into major celebrities didn’t help. In a land without law, anything could, and often did, happen. Now it’s all been put together into one convenient bundle. It may cost more than a dime, but the entertainment value is well worth it.

Finally, we finish up with The Big Book of Weirdos, brought to us by our old friend, Gahan Wilson. You thought your friends were weird? Try these people on for size! Adolf Hitler was weird, but King Ludwig II of Bavaria was kooky. T. E. Lawrence wasn’t exactly normal, while the mad monk Rasputin was legendary for his strange ways. Who was nuttier than a squirrel’s hoard: Edgar Allan Poe, William Burroughs, Franz Kafka, or Aleister Crowley? Trick question, they’re all here. So’s the Divine Sarah Bernhardt, Harry Houdini, and the dashing Isadora Duncan. Hollywood contributes such eccentrics as Clara Bow and Ed Wood, Jr., and society produces Andy Warhol and Salvador Dali. You must be nuts in order to create great things. Why else would Thomas Edison, Henry Ford, and Nikola Tesla (my favorite ‘mad scientist’ of all time) be in here? And what was William Randolph Hearst’s weird factor? What made Sarah Winchester spend decades building a house no sane person could ever live in? How -do- you explain the Marquis de Sade to your friends? Is there any explanation possible for J. Edgar Hoover? And what’s the bizarre, fascinating story of Norton I, Emperor of the United States? If you want to find out, you may want to try this book.

That wraps it up. Seventeen books, seventeen different collections of weird, wild, bizarre, unexplained, tawdry, criminal, legal, illegal, mysterious, entertaining, amusing, morbid, religious, pathetic, nifty, embarrassing, funky, and otherwise -odd- people, places, events, fads, and themes. If you can’t find at least one to suit your tastes you might want to check your pulse and grab The Big Book of Death just in case.

You should be able to find these books in your local comic store or bookstore. If you have no luck, you can probably find them online. Just look for Paradox Press, an imprint of DC Comics. And have fun.

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Beast, by Donna Jo Napoli (Simon and Schuster, 2002)

Jul 18

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology, Fantasy, Historical, Young Adult | No Comments

It’s hard not to be familiar with the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale, even if the version most people are familiar with is the Disney movie. Man finds abandoned castle, steals a rose to bring back for the sake of his youngest daughter, and is captured by the castle’s owner, a monstrous beast with the power to communicate with humans. In return for his own life, the man — often a merchant of some sort — must send his daughter to serve the beast. The deal is honored, the girl goes to the castle, and meets the beast, subsequently forging a fragile friendship/relationship with him. Ultimately, she returns home for a visit, and stays until she realizes she loves the beast, returning to his side just as he’s about to expire of loneliness. Her love frees him from an evil spell, restoring his human form, and they live happily ever after.

Take this as you will — for a fairy tale; for an extended metaphor on the power of love; for a commentary on the dual nature of man and beast within us all; for a morality play, what-have-you. The tale has been told and retold innumerable times, though the one we’re most used to has its roots in the French parlor tales of the 18th Century, later incorporated into larger collections. Compared to the earliest versions, Disney was a Johnny-Come-Lately.

Donna Jo Napoli, whose previous books have dealt with similar matters( Zel, for instance, retelling Rapunzel), draws from the 1811 poem by Charles Lamb to restructure and recount the Beauty and the Beast from a more intimate point of view. Namely, from the vantage point of the Beast himself. Inspired by Lamb’s version, Napoli gives the Beast the true name of Orasmyn, a Prince of Persia cursed by a vengeful fairy into the shape of a lion, after he makes an unwise, or perhaps uninformed, decision during the Islamic Feast of Sacrifices.

As a lion, Orasmyn is forced to flee his home for fear of his very life, leaving behind everything he knows, including his family and his beloved rose gardens. Armed only with his own learning and human intelligence, neither man nor beast in truth, he must make a new life for himself. His only comfort lies in the fairy’s declaration that only the love of a woman will set him free. And thus begins an odyssey for the former Prince. Daily, his beast nature wars with his human side, and he struggles to maintain the laws of his Persian Islamic faith, hoping that the structure may preserve his sense of identity. He finds no home for himself in India, thinking to become lion in truth but unable to compete with those lions born to the form. Ultimately, his journey takes him to France, a place marked in his mind as a land of beauty and love. There, he finds an abandoned castle, thought by the locals to be haunted, and sets up residence as best he can, encumbered by his lion form. The rest of the story we know. How a merchant finds refuge for the night. How a deal is made. How a lovely young woman comes to the castle. And how they grow ever closer, until she leaves and almost doesn’t come back in time…

The strengths of Napoli’s retelling come in the lush language, the rich detail, and the attention to Orasmyn’s struggle between faith and instinct. She captures not just the exotic beauty of the Persian court, but also the more earthy appeal of Belle and the contrast between cultures. We can never forget that Orasmyn, the Beast, is inhuman — a lion in body, a man in spirit — and that even blessed (cursed?) with his human intelligence, he can no more interact normally with humans than a real lion could.

There’s very little magic in this story, beyond the initial spell which transforms and curses Orasmyn. There are no invisible servants, no singing and dancing furniture, no pyrotechnics. But all it takes is a single spell to set up a story’s worth of magic and the repercussions. The real magic lies in the telling, and in Napoli’s ability to really get inside the head of the Beast, and make us understand what sort of conflict he was going through daily. Her status as a professor of linguistics at Swarthmore is clearly a major inspiration and resource in her joyful usage of French, Latin, Farsi (a native Persian language) and Arabic (also the language of Islam). Liberally sprinkling these words throughout, especially in the Beast’s own thoughts, she allows us to feel the alien, exotic nature of his upbringing and heritage, while still connecting him to his human side.

Beautiful, intoxicating, even alluring in its telling, Beast is a more than worthy retelling of an old and familiar tale, proving that there’s life left to the theme after all.

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A Morbid Initiation, by Philippe Boulle (White Wolf Publishing, 2002)

Jul 18

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Historical, Urban Fantasy, Vampires | No Comments

(Being the first volume of three, in which we uncover many a mystery, are introduced to an enigmatic and most secret society of night-walking fiends, and enjoy the company of a lovely lady of noble blood as she descends into the depths of darkness.)

It can hardly be denied that the Victorian era, that span of years wrapping itself around the last few decades of the 19th Century, was a time when science and mysticism clashed, producing an odd amalgamation of unlimited possibility. Interest in the occult was high, a fascination with death and romance was prevalent, and practitioners of the scientific and medical arts often performed unspeakable acts in the pursuit of knowledge. It was a dark and strange time, or so our imaginations like to claim; a time when anything could happen when no one was looking. An era when the British Empire sprawled across the world, already eating itself from within. It was the era of Gothic horror, of mad scientists and monsters, of Doctors Frankenstein and Jekyll, of Jack the Ripper and the Elephant Man, of gaslight, fog, and secret societies. It was the age of Dracula. It was the time when vampires made an eerie transition, from things of nightmare to creatures of a darkly romantic persuasion.

White Wolf Publishing made its mark on the gaming industry with its first release, Vampire: The Masquerade. Over a decade — and hundreds of supplements — later, Vampire has come back to its roots with the new game line, Victorian Age Vampire, in which players may take on the roles of inhabitants of that literarily fascinating age, whether as vampires or as something else. And to go along with that line, White Wolf’s fiction arm has released A Morbid Initiation, the first book in a trilogy that explores some of the vast potential of the setting.

Regina Blake is not a woman given to silly flights of fancy. At least no more so than the average wellbred young lady of the time. But she cannot deny that something most peculiar is transpiring. After two years of illness, ever since an unexplained series of events in Cairo, Regina’s mother has, at last, died. But not of natural causes. Oh, no. A conspiracy is afoot, and it all seems to tie in with her mother’s strange, terrifying relatives, who make inexplicable demands, who refuse to let the body be touched by sunlight, who insist upon interring Emma Blake in their own ancestral cemetery. Regina knows something is wrong, and she enlists the aid of her soldier fiancé and his friends to investigate. What they find changes them forever.

As Regina delves deeper into the odd circumstances surrounding her mother’s last days, she is both protected and guided by the enigmatic, beautiful Victoria Ash. Together, they follow a labyrinthine path deeper into the shadows. Deeper into a night-dwelling society that crosses all social boundaries. Deeper into something very old, and very dangerous. Vampires do exist, and they pull the strings of the world. Regina must walk among them, for hers is not a path easily turned away from. And little does she know, but her dearest love, Lieutenant Malcolm Steward, is likewise a pawn in a game of chess that stretches back for centuries….

What price will Regina pay to find the truth about her mother and her mother’s family? Where will her quest take her? And what does Victoria Ash have in mind for them all? Alas, dear reader, for not all questions are answered in A Morbid Initiation. Nevertheless, it’s a fair wager that enough curiosity will be piqued by the first book in this trilogy to warrant staying the course.

I’m rather familiar with the White Wolf game settings. However, for this book, I attempted to approach it as an outsider, and I can say, quite happily, that A Morbid Initiation stands quite well on its own merits. By making the point-of-view character completely ignorant where vampiric society is concerned, Philippe Boulle avoids the contempt of familiarity. The various secret societies, both mortal and supernatural, are presented with appropriate mysteriousness, never fully revealing themselves. As Regina travels further into the shadows, we too travel with her. As she is initiated into their world, so too are we. As a result, A Morbid Initation feels like a vampire novel, not like a piece of fiction based on a pre-existing property. This pleases me, as very few things are as annoying as a clumsy book wherein one can see the source material from a mile off.

The book also manages to convey some of the dark eroticism, both of the vampire world, and of the Victorian age. The whole romanticized image of the Victorian era suggests a certain sexual and emotional repression that carries with it a need for release, a release one finds often in these Gothic novels. In short, Victorians frustrated, vampires sexy, you do the math. Boulle manages to inject some of that passion into the story, without making it irrelevent. Rather, it comes at a climactic moment, if you can pardon me the expression.

Overall, I was extremely pleased with A Morbid Initiation. It evokes the proper atmosphere, and remains true to the source material without relying overly heavily on it. While it may not be entirely historically accurate, it does capture the feel, the essence of that time period. Vampire fans would be well advised to take a look at this one, even if they don’t care about the game line that inspired it.

Additional kudos must go to the stunning, eerie cover, designed by Chris McDonough, art by Christopher Shy.

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The Wild Angel, by Pat Murphy (Tor, 2001)

Jul 17

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fantasy, Historical, Urban Fantasy | No Comments

After a brutal murder deep in the gold rush hills of California leaves her orphaned, young Sarah McKensie becomes something straight out of dime novels, a creature inspired by Burroughs and fleshed out by Kipling: the Wild Angel. Feral, raised by wolves and become more wolf than human, she roams the Californian wilderness, while the legend of the phantom child with the red-gold curls captures the imaginations of the hard-bitten miners and trappers who call the untamed frontiers home. But one man, the same one who killed Sarah’s parents, hunts her while wrapped in his new cloak of respectability, ostensibly to rescue this poor child from the dismal fate of forever living feral, but in truth to silence her, lest his own secrets be brought to light.

As years pass, and Sarah McKensie grows older, stronger, faster, capable of taking down mountain lions and bears with her bare hands and cunning, able to keep pace with the wolves as one of their own, her story becomes intertwined with Max Phillips, the man who first discovered her parents’ bodies, an artist deeking redemption for his own checkered past. He’ll teach her to communicate with her own kind, and befriend her, and provide a link back to civilization, and he’ll do it through … biscuits? Stranger things have tamed the savage beast. Also wrapped up in Sarah’s story is Audrey North, the aunt Sarah knew she had, Helen Harris, a young woman who’s never known her father and who seeks adventure, Miss Paxon, a Temperence preacher who tells fortunes on the side (or is she a fortuneteller who preaches on the side?), and the amazing Professor Gyro Serunca, a man quite skilled with getting people to part with their money for the wonders of his traveling circus.

Sooner or later, everyone comes to the mining town of Selby Flats, and when they do, the legend of the Wild Angel will explode into full color for a fascinated audience. Sarah and her parents’ killer will come face to face, and truths will be revealed in the best storytelling fashion. Action, adventure, jailbreaks, feats of acrobatic derring-do, an elephant, The Ancient Order of E Clampus Vitus, wolves, love, family members new and old, and secrets told will make this a good, fun story for everyone.

Mind you, it’s also part of a metafictional, metatextual three book experiment perpetrated upon us by the author, since while the cover says it’s by respected author Pat Murphy, the true byline is that of fictional author Max Merriwell, writing as equally fictional author Mary Maxwell. Several layers removed from the real world author, it’s a pseudonymical work of art. It comes on the heels of There And Back Again, a space opera retelling of The Hobbit “as written” by Max Merriwell, a fictional author who, it’s said, writes three books a year: science fiction under his own name, fantasy as Mary Maxwell, and mystery as Weldon Merrimax. One can only imagine what the third and final book in this experiment, Adventures In Space And Time With Max Merriwell by Pat Murphy, will be like. All we know is that it will star Max Merriwell, and tell of the events that befall him while he’s writing There And Back Again and Wild Angel. Does your head hurt yet? Mine certainly did the first time I tried to wrap it around this project.

Removing that from the equation, we’re left with a very competent, capable, entertaining myster/western/fantasy that combines elements of Rudyard Kipling’s Mowgli and Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan, to create a feral beast-child with an American edge. Recommended, and highly enjoyable.

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Serpent’s Shadow, by Mercedes Lackey (Daw, 2001)

Jul 17

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology, Fantasy, Historical | No Comments

I’ve always had a soft spot for the works of Mercedes Lackey. I discovered her soon after her first book, Arrows of the Queen, first in her long-running Heralds of Valdemar series, came out, and I stuck with her as she finished out that trilogy and launched into dozens of subsequent books. It’s safe to say that she was one of those authors who kept me relatively sane in high school, her works challenging my imagination, and her collaborations with other authors introducing me to such talents as Josepha Sherman, Mark Shepherd, Holly Lisle, and others. In fact, I think her works provided the backbone of my fantasy reading for a good four years, at the very least. I went to my very first real science fiction convention because she was the guest of honor that year. (A day visit to a previous con doesn’t count, since I wasn’t there long enough to really get the full experience on my own.)

I met Mercedes (or Misty) several more times in the years to come, usually finding her with her husband and writing partner, Larry Dixon, running into them at enough cons that they remembered me. That was then. In the years following, my tastes changed, and I no longer found myself reading as much of her work. For whatever reason, they didn’t have the same feel, or appeal, they once did. And Misty and Larry stopped attending the same conventions I did. So in a way, we parted ways somewhere along the road.

However, if you’ve seen my recent reviews of her last two releases, Brightly Burning and Beyond World’s End, you’ll probably have come to the same realization I have. Just because the roads split off doesn’t mean they can’t come back together once in a while. For whatever reason, Misty’s relit that fire in my imagination, revisiting the Heralds of Valdemar and Bedlam Bards, two of my favorite Misty Lackey series, and now proving that she’s still got unrevealed tricks in her bag with the stand-alone novel, The Serpent’s Shadow. See? There’s a method to my madness. It’s important to understand that with this book, she’s officially three for three in my opinion, and I’ll once again be eagerly awaiting her next books.

Set in the unbelievably exotic (by our standards) era of 1909 London, The Serpent’s Shadow conjures up the full force of the British Empire, when the sun never set upon it (because who’d trust the English in the dark?), when men were most assuredly men, women were suffragettes or second-class citizens, and horses were scared (of those newfangled motorized contraptions!).

About the worst thing you could be in that time and place was -not- white, male, upper-class, and British. So, for instance, a twenty-five-year-old half-Indian female doctor would be as out of place as a penguin in the Sahara. And about as welcome.

Nonetheless, that’s where our heroine, the good Doctor Maya Witherspoon, finds herself. After the death of her English father and Indian mother, she’s come ‘home’ to London, to do what good she can as a doctor, working as a women’s surgeon at St. Mary’s Hospital, as an all-around doctor at the Fleet Street free clinic, and in her own private practice, one dedicated to handling … well, women’s complaints. Those of a very delicate, and often illegal, nature. (Read: handing out birth control pamphlets, and helping the undeserving poor, the pickpockets, prostitutes, dancers, harlots, and scum of the streets.)

With her she’s brought the remnants of her family’s household, including the butler/bodyguard, Gupta, and her mother’s pets, who in themselves would constitute a small zoo. There’s Charan the monkey, Sia and Singhe the mongooses, Rhadi the parrot, Nisha the owl, Mala the falcon and Rajah the peacock. Unusually smart and perceptive, they hold the keys to some of Maya’s mother’s greatest secrets.

Life would be just fine, were it not for a few small, even inconsequential details.

Maya is a mage, what the British practitioners of magic would call an Earth Master. A healer, drawing her strength from the earth around her, and from the very land itself. Untrained and inexperienced, all of her work is done haphazardly, through instinct and patchwork.

She’s attracted the attentions of a secret society of British mages, who refuse to teach her on the grounds that she’s half-blooded Indian -and- a woman. Only one of them, a former sailor turned merchant, and Water Master, dares go against his fellows to work with Maya.

She’s developed enemies at work, in the form of a particularly racist, rude, arrogant man who’ll stop at nothing to ruin her.

She’s brought a dark and deadly enemy from home, a devout worshipper of Kali Durga, who dreams of destroying Maya, and then destroying all those Englishmen who’d dare mistreat India and its natives. This woman, “the serpent’s shadow,” may be the cause of Maya’s father’s death, and is certainly the reason Maya fled India and went into a sort of exile in London.

If this enemy finds Maya, there’ll be all manner of Hell to pay.

The true test of Maya’s abilities looms on the horizon as her enemies close in, and her training takes new and unexpected roads. If her allies can’t rally in time, she’ll be dead, and Kali, the dark Hindu goddess of death and destruction and chaos, will have unprecedented power in the modern world.

I was hooked from the start by the strong and complex character of Maya Witherspoon and the enigmas she represented, and by the richly detailed time and place the story was set in. It was a welcome and refreshing change from the norm, and I wouldn’t mind seeing more stories set in such fertile ground.

Certainly not a politically correct period or society, it was a vastly different world than the one we know.

The Serpent’s Shadow is gripping; once I started, I couldn’t stop reading until I was too tired to turn the pages. This is Mercedes Lackey in fine form, perhaps the best she’s been in years. I highly recommend it as one of those fantasies that tries something different and succeeds. She was able to flesh out 1909 London to the point where I could all but smell it, and I could easily believe in, and cheer for, the main characters. Even the minor ones had their moments of glory and unique characterization. It’s been a while, but I’m glad Misty’s back. I missed her. This is a book worth picking up, even in hardcover. And as a bonus, it comes with an absolutely stunning, gorgeous cover by Jody Lee, who’s done many of Lackey’s books. So go check it out for yourselves.

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The Flight of Michael McBride, by Midori Snyder (Tor, 1995)

Jul 17

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Elves & Fairies, Historical, Urban Fantasy | No Comments

“Once, long ago when the Tuatha Da Danann rode their fairy horses over the green hills, a mortal man fell in love with Etian, the second and much-neglected wife of Midhir, King of the Fairy Hill of Bri Leith. This man came one night into the King’s court and challenged the King to a game of chess. Foolish was Etian, for she looked upon the mortal man and saw his desire. Flattered, she said nothing to the King, but she knew in her heart that the man would win and that she would be the prize he would claim.”

Those words mark an ending and a beginning for Michael McBride, son of James and Eileen McBride. An ending, for those are the last words Eileen speaks to Michael as she lies on her deathbed. A beginning, for this story will plunge Michael deep into a series of harrowing adventures that will take him from New York City to Texas, and beyond.

The year is 1878, and Michael McBride is a strapping young man, just into his twenties. His father is a cold, distant man who speaks little of familial love and concentrates more on his chess game than his wife or son. His mother, as we’ve seen, is recently dead, leaving behind the wealth of Irish folklore and myths that she’s related to Michael since he was old enough to understand them. That, and a strange blessing placed upon his left eye, one that signifies more than he realizes at the time.

Things take a turn for the weird (and dangerous!) when Michael begins to see and hear things which shouldn’t be there, such as a log enchanted to appear as his mother’s corpse, tiny creatures living in the trees, and a darkly handsome, evil man named Red Cap, intent upon killing Michael.

Faced with phantoms determined to kill him, and things he can’t explain, Michael flees New York, hopping the first train west. And that’s the start of an odyssey that will take him further than he ever expects. Before he’s through, he’ll confront Red Cap, encounter the Morrigu (ancient Celtic battle goddess), dare the wrath of the Night Hatchet (Native American creature of dark legends), make and lose friends, discover the truths his parents could never share with him, and become master of his own destiny. Oh, and have a reason to use his chess skills.

The Flight of Michael McBride is a beautifully spun tale of magic, love, loss, and growing up. It juxtaposes Irish myth, the enigmatic mystique of Native American folklore, the simple charm of folk magic, and the illusion of the Wild West, creating a tapestry that few writers can equal. The only author who’s done anything comparable who springs to mind is Tom Deitz, and his work is more focused on Cherokee myth. There are other authors who have juxtaposed Celtic and Native American themes — Charles de Lint, for example — but in my opinion, Snyder hits a home run with this novel.

Besides the original concept, it’s a compelling story. Tragedy seems to follow in Michael McBride’s footsteps, but still he perseveres, and finds help in the most unexpected places. Whether it’s a horse that only he can tame, a woman card sharp who befriends him on the train, or even the beautiful young woman who saves his life through the use of her charms, Michael is never at a loss for friends. Of course, he’ll find every aspect of his being tested before the end of the story.

Snyder’s grasp of dialect and language is exceptional, from the “voice” of the Sidhe, to the language of the cowboys, to the mannerisms and slang used by the backwoods characters. Her imagery is downright gorgeous, evocative of whatever setting she chooses. Witness this sample passage:

“There was no carriage standing before him, but as he turned to look behind him, Michael tensed. There, waiting on a black horse, was the man with the red cap. Only now Michael saw it wasn’t a cap, but long red hair slicked down to the sides of the man’s narrow face. Surrounding the man were other mounted horsemen spread across the street, their spears and axes held upright. On the pommels of their saddles were skulls tied together, festooned with red and green ribbons and the glint of twirling gold coins. In the shadows of the building, the horsemen’s faces were a deep mottled brown, their bodies thick and strong like carved oak. But in the open street, the sunlight drenched the armor and the warriors shone transparent as a sheet of gold rain. They were attended by wraiths whose pale gray faces worse masks of misery and who stared at Michael out of haunted eyes. Hands soft as dust clung to the bridles and held the mounts steady. Shadowed substance and shining light, they appeared to Michael at once solid and threatening as a closing storm and as vaporous as a misty dream. The man with the long red hair nodded to Michael.

This is one of those books I hold out as an example not just of urban fantasy done right, but of urban fantasy done right in an unexpected setting. As some of you may know, this is one of those books I’ve selected for my top ten urban fantasy novels list, so my wholehearted support shouldn’t come as a surprise.

Unfortunately, you may need to scour your local used bookstores or libraries to find this book. But it is definitely worth the effort.

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A Night In The Lonesome October, by Roger Zelazny (Avon Books, 1993)

Jul 17

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Historical, Urban Fantasy | No Comments

It’s October, sometime in the late 1800s, and the fate of the world is at stake. Come the end of the month, a Ritual will be held, one that will determine once again whether the Great Old Ones break through into our reality. Who will stand there and champion civilization? Who will fight for life and love and liberty? Who will stand as a Closer when the Game comes to its conclusion?

Will it be the mysterious man known as Jack, who walks the foggy streets of London with his trusty knife, and his dog, Snuff?

Will it be the vampiric Count, who sleeps by day, and stalks the nighttime?

Will it be the Great Detective and his assistant? Or the mad monk, Rastov? Perhaps it’s the Good Doctor, who’s trying to build life out of dead parts. Maybe the savior of humanity is Larry Talbot, a werewolf.

What if it’s really the Vicar Roberts, whose crusade against the rest of the players threatens them all? Or Crazy Jill? Or even the druid, Owen?

In the Game, nothing is for certain, and no one is as they appear to be. There are Openers, those who would open the way for the Great Old Ones, and the Closers, who would sacrifice themselves that the world might continue. And on October 31st, all bets are off.

This is the world of Roger Zelazny’s A Night In The Lonesome October. A world of foggy danger, mystery, and Byzantine maneuverings. A world where Jack the Ripper is, believe it or not, the good guy, where his dog is the narrator, and where absolutely anything can happen.

Thirty-one days. Thirty-one chapters. Some of the players, will live, some will die, some will quit the Game. Every time you think you have one puzzled out, they’ll go and surprise you. It’s hard finding sympathy for Jack the Ripper. But somehow, Zelazny does it. He weaves a tale so unpredictable and tangled that you’ll be kept guessing right up until the very end, and even then, you may have to go back and reread some parts to figure out where your assumptions went off.

I’ll be honest. I love this book. There’s just something downright -fun- about it. It’s a joyful, shameless look at all of the Gothic characters of the Victorian era and later, disguising them with a thin coat of paint that’ll fool nobody. It’s a romp through the classics, tying them all together with a fairly original plot, told from a singularly unique point of view. I heard that Zelazny actually wrote this one as the result of a dare, to make Jack the Ripper a sympathetic character. And by golly, he does just that. It’s a quick read, but deceptively so. Move too fast, and you may miss a turn, rather like closing your eyes on a roller coaster.

One of the major selling points of this book, though, has to be the macabre, whimsical drawings of Gahan Wilson. His “cartoons,” (for I hesitate to label them as such) are sprinkled liberally throughout the book, adding flavor and imagery to an already compelling tale. And if you don’t know about Gahan Wilson, and you haven’t seen his work, you’re missing out on a unique talent. Words simply cannot accurately describe the bizarre, stylistic, memorable renditions of the absurd that he specializes in. I read the Matthew Looney series, by Jerome Beatty Jr. when I was younger, and the thing that stuck most profoundly in my impressionable young mind was the Gahan Wilson artwork that accompanied those books.

To give you an idea of the sources drawn upon for this book, Zelazny thanks, in the introduction, Mary Shelley, Edgar Allen Poe, Bram Stoker, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, H.P. Lovecraft, Ray Bradbury, Robert Bloch, Albert Payson Terhune, and the makers of a lot of old movies. Whew!

I’ll be as blunt as possible. Read this book. It is one of Zelazny’s best books, an interesting intro to his work, and utterly unrelated to his magnum opus, the Amber chronicles. As such, it doesn’t always get the recognition it deserves. Go ahead, try it. See if it has the power to surprise you, too.

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The Beggar’s Opera, by John Gay (Barron’s Educational Series, 1962)

Jul 17

Posted by Michael M. Jones in Fairy Tales, Folklore & Mythology, Historical, Non-Fiction & Reference | No Comments

The Beggar’s Opera, or at least the edition I recieved for review, and I, have an unusual history. Ever since I received this book in the mail, one thing after another manifested to distract me from my mission. Every time I sat down to write the review of The Beggar’s Opera, it vanished, only to turn up later, after the inclination and time to write had passed. I began to wonder if perhaps my cats had entered into a conspiracy to keep me from saying anything about it, or whether the book itself was sentient and highly mobile. Looking for The Beggar’s Opera became an exercise in discovery, as the increasingly frequent attempts to clean up my office as I searched high and low turned up dozens of other books and magazines I haven’t had the chance to read yet. It was like a treasure hunt, where instead of one prize, I was finding twenty.

How does this relate to John Gay’s masterpiece of satire and social commentary? Because among the Stewarts Draft Cola bottles (three, unopened), The Complete Monty Python’s Flying Circus (book form, two volumes) and my Jay and Silent Bob action figures, I found treasures. My search turned up much more than I was expecting to find. And that’s what you’ll get if you read The Beggar’s Opera — a lot more than you thought you would.

First put on in 1728, The Beggar’s Opera set the stage for centuries to come, revitalizing the comedy genre, and recreating the musical comedy genre in a new light. John Gay’s work borrows from a variety of sources, starting life in the concept of “Quaker pastorals” or “a Newgate pastoral, naming the whores and thieves there.” Posing in various forms as social commentary, a satire on Italian opera, a ballad opera, and a musical comedy, there’s no doubt that The Beggar’s Opera has inspired playwrights and composers ever since, and its popularity has never been in doubt. [Editor's note: In 1928 Kurt Weill and Bertold Brecht transformed John Gay's The Beggar's Opera into a scathing critique of German moral decadence--The Threepenny Opera -- which was also a not so subtle political satire on Hitler's rise to power.]

Boiled down to its simplest form, The Beggar’s Opera is a story about heroes, villains,whores, rogues, love, confusion, sacrifices, betrayal, redemption, and humor. Seventeen scenes in 3 acts that span the course of one day in London, revolving around a highwayman, the women who love him, their respective families (one family is into crime, the other into law), and assorted extras, all set to song, dance, and the occasional musical accompaniment. Is it any good? I enjoyed reading The Beggar’s Opera. I really did. Would it be better seen on stage? Undoubtedly so. The value of this book lies not in the play, but in what we get besides the play.

For starters, there’s a history and biography of John Gay. There’s a detailed analysis, plot summary, and history of the play itself, going into many of the background details about how The Beggar’s Opera came to be. Finally, there’s a section on staging and performance, historical and otherwise. This is the sort of book best used for reference, educational purposes, or general interest. To properly understand the play, go see it live.

The book is recommended, but let me note that this edition I reviewed was published in 1962, and is most likely out of print or difficult to obtain. You may have to do some hunting to find a Beggar’s Opera resource that’s equivalent. But if you can, or if you can find a more recent edition of this same book, by all means, look for it. It’s a worthy addition to anyone’s library, especially if you like musical theater, or theater in general.

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