In Memory of a Princess

I was four when Return of the Jedi came out. I don't remember seeing it, but I do remember Dad giving me a book with pictures of the characters in it. I remember being jealous of a kid with toy lightsaber I saw at Jenolan Caves. And I remember my Star Wars toys. I'd get some every birthday and Christmas for years. I still have them - to be honest I now have more than I did as a kid.

At the heart of all that was Princess Leia, a strong woman, born leader, attitude to spare and incredibly loving and compassionate. She'd get her hands dirty, take charge when needed, lend an ear. She was everything anyone could want to be.

Carrie Fisher brought Leia to life. Not just by playing the role, but in the script too. I recently saw a page of the screenplay for The Empire Strikes Back with handwritten edits she made. The scene is vivid in my mind and it's her edits that make it memorable. And that's the thing, Carrie Fisher was so much more than a fictional princess.

She was strong - she overcame addiction, lived with mental illness, and faced those things publicly with grace and humour. A lot of humour. It is perhaps more her wit and her writing skill that she should be remembered for, than a role she fell into so long ago. But she made that role her own, and made Leia such an icon, that she will always be associated with and as her.

I met her for but a moment as she signed a picture for me, and in those moments she made me feel that she was not above me, there was no ego, just a woman having a good weekend in Sydney and meeting fans. I described that meeting at the time, so I won't go on about it. But it confirmed to me the talk that she was an amazing and kind person.

The news of her death was the first thing I saw this morning when I looked at my phone over breakfast. Since then I have been forlorn and struggling to get going. I cannot mourn Princess/General Leia, she's not dead and will be on the screen again in a year. At the same time, the woman who breathed life into her is. The reverse of Han Solo in the trippy world of cinema. And a great writer, and wonderful woman who was a powerful and honest role model and advocate, has died. But I know one thing - she would not want someone who barely knew her to be sitting about moping over her death. She might well, and probably would, understand why I grieve, but she would not want that to hold me back. She fought, even in her last days she fought, and she created. She achieved through perseverance and determination and not giving in to dark thoughts and maudlin feelings.

So I won't either. Let's all honour the real life woman behind the icon and not give in to the darkness. Let's stand up, speak up, and make art.

Keep dreaming

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close - A Micro Review

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


I can see why this book is divisive in the reviews. It's well written, but it's over the top. If it was just Oskar, it'd be okay I think, not great cause he's a pain a lot of the time, but better. It's the grandparents and their storylines that sink it for me. Thomas was interesting for a chapter, but I couldn't take him as a sustained character, and Grandma just needed to - I don't know what but ugh.

The idea is great, the people left behind dealing with the spaces in the landscapes of their lives. And there's some powerful writing in there. But overall, the characters and the total story, just don't carry it for mine.



View all my reviews

Breathing Pure Imagination - RIP Mr Wilder

I'm sitting on a train with tears in my eyes. Gene Wilder died. I didn't know him. I believe he was a good man. He was old and unwell, now he's at peace. He's passing is therefore sad but well earned. Not enough for me to be near tears for a stranger. So why am I?

While he was brilliant in all the roles I've seen him in, I think my grief stems from Willy Wonka. Gene Wilder was not Willy Wonka, he didn't write his dialogue, and through technology Willy Wonka will always roam the chocolate factory, but Gene breathed life into the character. He took the words on the page and made them live. That breath is gone. Perhaps it is that I mourn.

I don't remember when I first saw the movie. Its images and scenes have always floated in my mind. I didn't really remember the kids or the sentimentality of Charlie and his family. I remembered the man in the purple suit with the top hat. He was wise, he knew how things worked. And he lived in a factory where things were not as they are in the rest of the world. He walked corridors that shrank without appearing to, had wallpaper you could taste, and there was magic at every turn. And all with the underwritten air of menace.

Later, in my 20s, when in one of my darker periods, there were two parts of the movie that meant so much to me. The first and most important was the song Pure Imagination. I knew there was no life like it, and I clung to the idea that my imagination was something important. If you listen closely to the tune, there is that tinge of melancholy, or maybe that's just for me. But under the wonder is the reality that it is lost on so many people. Willy knows the children will fail, that they do not understand what he is singing about.

The second part is one line of dialogue which to me is a reminder, not only of the power of the message of the song, but of our responsibility to live it. 'We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.'

Gene Wilder understood that. He lived it. And he breathed in the words and exhaled the vision. It will last, but there is one less dreamer of dreams in this world. May you view paradise Mr Wilder. And you, whoever you are reading this, whatever you do in life, always -

Keep dreaming!

Bernhard Schlink's The Reader - A Micro-Review

The Reader by Bernhard Schlink

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


What to say about The Reader? Unsettling, thought-provoking, uncomfortable. They all come to mind as ways to describe it. It's also well written, compelling and convincing; while I know the line between truth and fiction is always blurred and especially so in historical fiction, there was a need to remind myself this is not autobiography. Not directly anyway.

But even now as I sit here, having finished it 12 hours ago, I don't know how to feel. But, that's the point isn't it? Schlink has thrown out the rule book on how to feel about such a sacrosanct subject. I do not know Hanna, cannot know her, the narrator in the end does not know her and he knew her better than anyone else. We don't know what she did, why she did what she did or anything else. Only that what she did was, by usual standards unconscionable. Should I even want to understand what can only be condemned?

There are no answers here. Only the questions, and are they not the same questions we must ask ourselves? Are not the same atrocities being enacted around the world on differing scales right now? Do we not ignore, allow, condone such acts? Should we seek to condemn wholesale, or do we try to understand?

The novel suggests that history seeks to build a bridge between the past and the present and the historian must therefore be an active participant in both. In telling of the past here, Schlink builds that bridge, and in crossing it to see the past the reader must confront questions of the present.



View all my reviews

Suicide Squad - A Review

With the success of superhero movies of the past few years mostly down to Marvel, it was important for DC to do something to level the playing field and, Suicide Squad, the third movie in its series, certainly sets itself apart. First, there are the heroes, a group of infamous villains co-opted to work for the ‘good guys’; it’s the old Dirty Dozen concept but with meta-humans, as characters with super powers are called these days. That in itself can be a tricky task for a story in any medium but Suicide Squad does it well by humanizing the meta-humans in simple but effective ways, Killer Croc, for instance, is the downtrodden outsider, the mistreated freak with an understandable grudge against everyone, rather than simply a mutant killer who lives in the sewers.

Second is the movie’s place in the current DC film universe. Not only is it a notably darker universe than Marvel’s, or most versions of DC’s own, it’s a series that focuses not on the real-world potentialities of meta-humans. Most notably, the threat of Superman in Man of Steel as opposed to the instant adulation he usually receives. His arrival, and the appearance of meta-humans has created a shift in the way the world works and Suicide Squad explores the human face of this. Hence, Killer Croc’s mistreatment in prison, and the utter criminal lunacy of the Joker and his addled paramour Harley Quinn.

The main way the film explores this however is through the squad’s manipulation by the government, in particular, Amanda Waller, a shadowy high-ranking official who’ll kill her own staff to protect information. Her ruthlessness and role as puppeteer, next to the squad’s humanized qualities, effectively question who the ‘bad guys’ really are in this scenario. This is especially successful through the character of Deadshot, an assassin for hire, who’s also a father who misses his daughter. Despite the advertising for the film suggesting Harley Quinn and the Joker were the main characters, it’s Deadshot that Suicide Squad is hinged upon and it’s for that reason it works as a film. Will Smith gives him enough depth for us to root for him, even though we know he’s actually a murderer for hire with little regard for human life.

The film’s weakness is in its tendency to have spontaneous scenes for no good reason and some whacky editing. Harley stopping the action to steal a handbag might be in character but it only really served to interrupt the flow of the story. Rumours of studio interference might explain that but we’ll never really know.

The Enchantress, the nominal villain of the film, is arguably a weak-spot too. Her scheme is almost fully fledged before the heroes are even aware of what’s happening and there is little conflict with her or involving her at all. This breaks from the Hollywood playbook and probably has some in a flutter, but the film is not about the heroes saving the world; it’s about a group of troubled – and troubling – characters being played by a government. In the end, the Enchantress is a plot-device to bring them together, which some may not like but is an age-old storytelling device. Besides which, her own powers mirror Amanda Waller’s creation of the Suicide Squad and her use of leverage by knowing as much as possible about the individuals.

In all, Suicide Squad is a good movie, with a strong cast that explores a dark and violent world on a human level. It balances action, drama and comedy well, with occasional disruptive moments seemingly designed for fans of specific characters. Well worth a watch.

The Lover - A Micro Review

The Lover by Marguerite Duras

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


This is a book I wish I could have read in one sitting. I think it needs that to achieve its full effect.

The fragmenting of time is what made this book for me, seeing the scattered memories come together had its own special fascination. Unfortunately, possibly because I did read it in a number of sittings, it lost my interest toward the end.



View all my reviews

26 Views of the Starburst World - A Micro Review

26 Views of the Starburst World: William Dawes at Sydney Cove 1788-1791 by Ross Gibson

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


I found this book frustrating as it swung from fascinating history with interesting musings to wild conjectural ramblings that had no basis and seemed to contradict some of the actual history. At the same time, it could just be a historical fiction novel written with the wild conjectures as a given, and then I'd think there was basis and accept things that could be fanciful, so I'm glad Gibson flagged his 'divinations'. On the other hand, he'd then make statements about Dawes with no reference to how he knew such things about him, were they conjecture or based on what few accounts he had to draw on? I may never know.



View all my reviews

When the fans cry

My train is going along through a mist tainted gold by the morning sun. A journalist wept. My wife wept. Thousands more are weeping. It's not the first time this year either. First Bowie, now Prince. There are others but not quite on that level.

When some celebrities die there are complaints about the media caring more for one Western life than hundreds of others. These are valid statements and at times very on point.

But with some figures, usually artists, there is a reason for media coverage and mass declarations of grief. These are the artists who have touched society. They have touched thousands of individuals. They have inspired. They have consoled. They have elated. They have caused change.

When these people die, someone who has been an intimate part of our lives has died. We probably never met them, we may not have liked them if we did, but their art is a part of our lives. And for that we will always mourn.

Keep dreaming - you know they did.

The Thing about John Carpenter's The Thing

I finally watched John Carpenter's The Thing recently and wasn't that something. I had wanted to see it for a long time because of all the SF TV shows that did their tribute episodes.

It’s a great concept and the remote locale and limited cast raise the tension in ways worldwide versions like The Host, or I presume, The Fifth Wave, can hope for as the pressure disperses.

For those totally lost, the Thing is an alien that can resemble anyone it's killed. And it's in a remote Antarctic station. Anyone there could be part of the Thing and could become part of it if you lose sight of them.

What makes the story work is the paranoia the situation creates. I believe that's why so many shows do their tribute episodes too.

Unfortunately, I think John Carpenter's version didn't do enough with that element. The characters were paranoid no doubt but the atmosphere of the film lost its paranoia early on.

The movie became a series of scenes of yelling at each other or gory deaths and gruesome aliens. 1980s brilliance in the gore factor but ... disappointing all the same.

For a cinematic twist I prefer Event Horizon, and for the tributes I recommend The X-Files which had more paranoia and some wonderful angry Mulder scenes.

Keep dreaming!

Tickling Wolves - Some Thoughts Inspired by Fritz Leiber

I just finished reading a story about an invention called the Tickler. It starts out as a joke about a mechanical reminder so you wouldn't need a secretary (it was written in the early '60s) and ends up being a telepathic hive minded robot that controls the thoughts of the entire population.

Once I finished it, I opened up my laptop and this thing flashed at me at the bottom of the screen - "I'm Cortana. I can help you. Ask me anything." There's that circle next to it, white and ominous like some unblinking eye. It was eerie.

It's like the time I'd recently finished reading Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 where the main character's wife detaches herself from reality within a TV show that has become her family. The screens are three walls of the living room, she really wants the fourth wall put in, closing the reality, putting her on the stage with the actors and letting her exit the real world. Then I turned on the TV and saw an ad for Big Brother. That was eerie too.

I won't tell you how I reacted when I read about the original Big Brother. Let's just say I nodded a lot as I did.

It all sounds conspiratorial. Too far-fetched. We'd never let those terrible things happen, would we? Authors write what they know. We may stretch and play with ideas, but the ideas come from somewhere. Our world is changing, faster every day, it's difficult to keep up, sometimes we don't want to know everything that's going on, we find ways to tune out. We plug in to switch off - it's a strange dichotomy.

I'm not saying we're living in a dystopia. I'm not saying we're not either. It's hard to know. Are we heading for one? If so, how do we stop it? If we go one way can we be sure that isn't the way to dystopia? In the end what is dystopia? The underlying factor, in the stories of ticklers, book-burning firemen, omnipresent big brothers and others, is thinking. The masses, usually everyone, stops thinking. They may know a lot, they may be very switched on with the news, but they don't think. Nor do they dream. So let's never forget how to think - rationally - and to dream - irrationally and with abandon.

For the record, the story was the first of four in Fritz Leiber's The Night of the Wolf, a sort of anthology/paste-up novel. In the book it's called 'The Lone Wolf' but it was originally published as 'The Creature from Cleveland Depths' in Galaxy 1962.

Keep dreaming!

Happy Birthday Mr Verne

It's Jules Verne's birthday so I thought I'd reminisce a little about my experiences with the works of this wonderful creative spirit.

I can't remember a time when his name didn't mean something to me, that's probably a slight exaggeration but not much. Hearing about travelling with Captain Nemo in the bookshop at the beginning of The Never-ending Story became synonymous to me with adventure and the excitement you could have reading. I heard there was the man who went around the world in 80 days, and another who went to the centre of the Earth. These were thrilling concepts to my young imagination.

At some point I must have seen some of the 1950s film of Journey to the Centre of the Earth and the dinosaurs and volcanic eruption stayed embedded in my imagination. (So it was very exciting when I found it on DVD in a garage sale).

Despite these early impressions and the resulting desire I had to read his books, I was in my late teens before I read one. Even then it was his lesser known and quite short Master of the World. It's a sequel, to wrap up how bad a choice it was for a place to start, but in some ways it possibly was actually better than diving straight into the sea for an epic voyage. It was short and had plenty of action right from the start. It also had fantastic inventions and a mad genius hellbent on world domination. Thrilling stuff.

Since then I've read a handful more of Verne's novels, most notably 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Around the World in 80 Days. The former is a worthy classic, it has scenes of suspense and drama, the action of fighting off cephalopods is breath-taking and Nemo is a brooding antihero ahead of his time. On the downside, Verne does go into some very nitty-gritty details about the technical aspects and the longitude and latitude etc. It is at times stifling and could interrupt the pleasure of some readers.

Around the World in 80 Days has fewer passages which really slow the action and romance. It's an action novel right through, but with a lovely whimsy to it, making it very accessible.

So with all that, what is the legacy of Verne for me? I think it's the sheer creative energy he had. He poured himself into writing his books, he gladly and openly tried to forge a new genre and was quite put out when HG Wells started getting credit for it too. His stories are fantastic yet nailed down with his reasoning, he could bring exciting adventure with serious drama, or send us on a whimsical romp. What he didn't seem to do was small. His stories are so vivid and full of adventure that even their echoes in our culture stirs the imagination. So happy birthday Jules Verne and thank you for the spark of dreams.

Keep dreaming!

The Serendipity of Jupiter Ascending

I watched Jupiter Ascending with my wife last night. When it was finished she asked me if I enjoyed it, I said I did and asked her opinion, she thought it was terrible and had ended up watching it for how bad it was. Now, we don't agree on everything and this is hardly the first movie I enjoyed that she didn't, but I realised I enjoyed it because it was in the tradition of the old pulp novels of the first half of last century, which I love. But being a fan of such pulp fiction does require you to forgive certain things other people may not.

Jupiter Ascending is a Planetary Romance slipped it into an action film. Consequently, the characters don't get much depth and are rather two-dimensional, and some of the villains (Titus in particular) seem somewhat ludicrous. But the whole notion of planets being farmed by galactic mega-corporations is fun pulp SF and the plot is ripe for a serialisation in old-school Amazing or Astounding. And from that point of view it's a good movie. From today's standards my wife is right and it's a shocker.

I think my tip-off to its pulp nature was when it was ending and I started thinking of the series of sequels that could follow as Jupiter's secret ownership of Earth and connections to the larger universe complicate her otherwise normal family life. What were her other properties? Would the surviving villains try new ways to take her inheritance? It's stuff Edgar Rice Burroughs and his ilk would dream about. And I was dreaming about it too.

Which is serendipitous as I come into the year I start my Masters. It confirms my ideas of researching within the founding years of modern Speculative Fiction and the ongoing wonders such traditions started. It's where my geek-dom lies after all.

For the record, I think Jupiter Ascending could have been helped by cutting the sister and just having the two brothers, allowing for more character development. Although, where exactly you'd go with the characters is beyond me, so it's probably best as it was. Ideas, stunning visuals and fun action, with a nice romance - pulp SF at its best.

Keep dreaming!