Thursday, September 21, 2017

Thursday Morning Superhero

Kickstarter alert!!!!!  Comicker Press is very close to funding its crowdfunding effort to publish its next batch of creator-owned and diversity focused graphic novels. There are five amazing titles to select from and I really hope that it funds. Check out the campaign here and buy some books! There are great options for you no matter what genre of comics you prefer. Now on to my weekly comic report.

Pick of the Week:
Bloodshot: Salvation #1 - I need to read more Valiant books. I have enjoyed every title I read and when you add Jeff Lemire to the mix it becomes a must read. There were always grand plans to read his Valiant books, but I have never moved beyond simply reading one or two. When I saw there was a new Bloodshot series he was penning, it was a no brainer. When I learned it had to do with Bloodshot as a father and revolved around his daughter, I was absolutely thrilled. Lemire has a knack for writing exceptionally moving and powerful stories around parenthood and I hope this is no exception. In this series Bloodshot has retired, and it attempting to live a normal life with his wife Magic and his daughter Jessie.  Given his and Magic's past, things obviously don't go as planned and I can't wait to read more about why he is currently separated from both his wife and daughter. Just an absolutely stellar first issue.

The Rest:
Star Wars Adventures #2 - This all ages Star Wars comic continues to entertain. We are treated to the conclusion of "Better the Devil You Know", a story about Rey prior to The Force Awakens, and a story about a female X-Wing pilot named Evaan who played a vital role in rescuing a Rebel base that was under attack. I really can't say enough good things about this title. It is great for both young and old Star Wars fans, and feels like a Saturday morning cartoon from my youth. I think I might pour me a bowl of Cap'N Crunch when I read issue #3.

Dept H #18 - I feel we are nearing the end of this murder mystery set at the bottom of the ocean, but in addition to trying to solve out who murdered Hari, the H virus is killing hundreds of thousands of people on the surface and people are revolting over the attempted quarantine efforts. Despite the risks of surfacing, the crew has the antidote, but has other issues they are dealing with as well. I guess when one among you is a murderer and has sabotaged a lot of efforts at the bottom of the ocean things are going to be a bit rough. This issue is the first time we have a glimpse of the final moments that Hari was alive, but I am no closer to honing in clearly on a suspect. Matt and Sharlene Kindt have a great series in this book and I hope more people give it a whirl.

All-New Guardians of the Galaxy #10 - Things get weird in this issue when the Guardians reunite the Collector with his brother. While it appears that all hell is going to break loose, the two are happy to be together to figure out if everything is ok due to a cosmic shift. Something is happening with the other cosmic beings at it appears that the Gardener and Loki might be behind it. Gamora still is seeking out the Infinity Stone that has part of her trapped, but they are also needed now in an attempt to set the universe right. Not as light-hearted as some issues, but it has me excited for the next arc as the Guardians quest for the Stones.

POSTED BY MIKE N. aka Victor Domashev -- comic guy, proudly raising nerdy kids, and Nerds of a Feather contributor since 2012.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Microreview [book]: Meg: A Novel of Deep Terror by Steve Alten

Chomp chomp

My daughter is really into dinosaurs. Like, really, really into them. So naturally I wanted to read a book about dinosaurs. Only, I've already done the Jurassic Park novels and Red Raptor isn't available for Kindle (or at local bookshops). So I went for the next best thing: a novel about prehistoric sharks.

Meg is the story of Naval diver Jonas Taylor, who thinks he saw a Megalodon on a disastrous dive down the Mariana Trench. He then gets a PhD, and flogs this kooky idea wherever possible: that vents at the bottom of the Trench make it possible for life once thought extinct to survive. Actually there's some merit to this view: not only does the Mariana Trench have a much biodiversity than once assumed, scientists have also discovered that species once thought extinct are still around, like the Coelacanth. (Though that's a 60kg fish, not one that's as long as two school buses.)

Plausibility aside, some people do believe in Taylor, including oceanography patron Masao Tanaka, who wants to build a refuge lagoon for whales near Monterrey, CA. He also wants Taylor to assist his son on another dive down the Trench, this time to recover an earthquake-monitoring device. Why? I can't remember, and frankly, it doesn't really matter. Taylor agrees, Tanaka's son gets chomped and a female Meg ascends through the middle portion of the ocean to the warmer water above.

What ensues will be familiar to aficionados of the "monster eats people" genre: the giant shark proceeds to eat a lot of people. This is, of course, completely absurd. Great white sharks, which are much smaller than a megalodon, don't even bother eating people, because our fat content is too low for the energy it takes to consume us. When they bite humans, it's usually because they mistook us for seals (which do have enough fat), or because they're just trying to see what we are, and they do that by biting. Yet this 25 meter shark, which presumably requires a shit ton more fat than a great white to keep the motor running, inexplicably acquires a taste for human flesh.  

This is only the tip of the spray-cheese iceberg. There's a "historical" scene where a megalodon eats a tyrannosaurus rex, even though the two species didn't exist at the same time.* There are characters introduced for the sole purpose of being eaten, my favorite being the naval officer "just one job aware from retirement." There are multiple over-the-top chomp scenes, each more gruesome and outlandish than the last, and an extended scene from inside the meg's belly. All amazing, and patently absurd.

Most characters, furthermore, are straight-up cardboard, like the ass-covering captain who covers up the first meg discover and will endanger everyone to save his own career--even coming out of retirement to deep-six whatever Taylor has planned. Or Terry Tanaka, the headstrong and free-spirited daughter of patron Masao Tanaka, who hates Taylor until she loves him. But the "best" of all has to be Masao Tanaka, who speaks English with the diction of proverbs, bows frequently, has stereotypically "old world"** views on gender, refers to Taylor as "Taylor-san" and peppers his speech with hai. Only problem is, we're told Tanaka grew up in Seattle, the adopted son of an American couple. Now, I don't know about you, but most people I've met who immigrated to the US as children speak English fluently; and, though possessing two cultural backgrounds, are just as American as anyone else. Yet Tanaka, somehow, embodies every every stereotype of Japanese-ness as portrayed on American television programs prior to 1990. I mean, come on--only weeaboos do that.

All that said, there's something likable about Meg. Sure it's a trashy dumpster fire of bad writing, but the ridiculousness factor is so absurdly high, you kinda sorta can't help enjoying the experience of reading it. As Chloe said on twitter, it's a great bad novel. Chomp chomp.

*This is explained as "hypothetical," though it's still ridiculous.

**Framed as "old world" in the novel.

The Math

Baseline Assessment: x/10.

Bonuses: + (n-2)/y for all the chomping.

Penalties: - (d/dx)(c) = q for all the terribleness.

Baseline Assessment: SYNTAX ERROR.


Reference: Alten, Steve. Meg: A Novel of Deep Terror [Bantam, 1997]

POSTED BY: The G--purveyor of nerdliness, genre fanatic and Nerds of a
Feather founder/administrator, since 2012. 

Nanoreviews: The Prey of Gods, The Last Good Man, When the English Fall

Drayden, Nicky. The Prey of Gods [Harper Voyager, 2017]

Well, this is nothing like anything I've read before. The reemergence humans born with the power of gods, the rise of artificial intelligence, genetic engineering - it's a wild combination that works on the strength of Drayden's prose. The Prey of Gods is set in nearish future South Africa and I really don't know how to describe this book except to say that it is a lot of fun to read and is a raw delight. This is a very strong debut and I'm excited to see what Drayden does next.
Score: 7/10

Nagata, Linda. The Last Good Man [Mythic Island Press, 2017]

Nagata's near future military sci-fi is as good as it gets. The Last Good Man deals with private military contractors and the automated and outsourced future of warfare. Nagata spins a tightly focused compelling story of a rescue mission and the secrets that can come back to haunt. It's damned good. I could have read another hundred pages of this and I'd equally love to see another novel focusing on Requisition Operations.
Score: 8/10

Williams, David. When the English Fall [Algonquin Books, 2017]

One of the 24 books I was most looking forward to this year, When the English Fall did not disappoint. It's an Amish post apocalyptic novel, which is perhaps the greatest description I've heard of for a novel. Told through journal entries, When the English Fall is a moving story of keeping one's faith and one's way of life in the midst of increasing and encroaching violence. I appreciated how communities like the Amish may, in many ways, be more equipped for breakdowns in civilization - at least until that breakdown shows up at their doorstep. I want more like this.
Score: 7/10

POSTED BY: Joe Sherry - Co-editor of Nerds of a Feather, 2017 Hugo Award Finalist for Best Fanzine. Writer / Editor of the mostly defunct Adventures in Reading since 2004. Minnesotan.

Monday, September 18, 2017

Microreview [book]: Provenance, by Ann Leckie

Truth and lies and cultural identity

Let's start like this: Provenance is a novel about family, identity, culture, truth, and what it means to belong.  Provenance is set in the universe of Ann Leckie's earlier Imperial Radch trilogy, but only connects with references and by association. This is not Breq's Story 2.0. This is the story of a young woman, Ingray, attempting to run a pretty significant con in order to impress her mother, the matriarch of the Aughskold family.  She's a bit out of her league on this one.  There's something about hiring a company to rescue a disgraced member of a rival family out of a prison planet called Compassionate Removal with the hope / assumption that he will be willing to embarrass his family and help hers by providing her with stolen "vestiges" from his family.

A word about vestiges. Vestiges are highly valued historical documents and items, which could range from documents similar to a Declaration of Independence or the American Liberty Bell to an original copy of a famous speech or perhaps some sort of miscellany from some long ago gala where someone famous appeared. The older and the more historical the vestige, the more valuable and the more important the vestige. Vestiges can, in some respects, represent the identity of not only a family, but the heritage of of an entire world.

So, what happens when some of the most significant of them are quietly called into question?

The first opening chapters of Provenance are perhaps more compelling in the wake of a murder which occurs a quarter of the way through the novel and in light of the increasingly breakneck pace of the second half of the novel where Ingray comes into her own as a character doing the right thing because it is, in fact, the right thing (mostly). Prior to that, she's working for a vaguely defined personal goal. But, Leckie raises the stakes with the murder and the question of the true provenance of the vestiges. Her examination of family and cultural identity mixed with the lies and myths people tell of who they are is striking.

I don't know that Leckie is definitively making a broader statement outside of the novel about how we create our own mythology based on the documents and history we revere, but Provenance has plenty to say about it. It is through its own vestiges that a nation defines itself. America's obvious vestiges are the founding documents, but that national definition also includes Dr. King's Letter from a Birmingham Jail, the Liberty Bell, artifacts from the Apollo 11 mission, and anything that helps create the myth and identity of the United States.

One thing I wondered about reading Provenance was how the importance of a vestige could ultimately overshadow the truth and mythology of that vestige's origin story. If there are no questions that an event occurred or what the text of a particular document / speech might be, is it truly important that after hundreds and thousands of years that an original vestige necessarily survive the passage of time? It is history and it is heritage, but is there a point where the original of something could be over mythologized and be invested with too much importance? I'm not sure if a historian can answer yes to that question, but with the fetishization of vestiges in Provenance it is something worth considering.

That fetishization is at the heart of Provenance because each of the supreme value the major families of Hwae place on the vestiges in their collections and how world itself defines itself based on those vestiges. It is that importance that drives the narrative forward, beginning with Ingray's plot to pull a rival out of Compassionate Removal in order to recover his family's vestiges for her own and then moving into a much large consideration to the veracity of nearly all of Hwae's vestiges.

Expectations are one hell of a thing. Ann Leckie wrote three incredibly well received and well regarded novels, the first of which, Ancillary Justice, won almost all the awards it was eligible for (including the Hugo, Nebula, and Arthur C. Clarke). Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy met and perhaps surpassed the high bar Leckie set with Ancillary Justice. With her debut trilogy this exceptional, the hype and anticipation build, the expectation for just how good the next book will be bursts through the roof and settle somewhere near the stars. The next book becomes of the most anticipated novels of the year, of almost any year.

So, when the opening chapters of Provenance do not immediately reach and exceed that expectation it feels like a disappointment. It's not fair, because Provenance is not Ancillary Justice nor is it supposed to be. Provenance is very much its own novel, but I just needed to get past a sense of dissonance through those early chapters and figure out what sort of novel Provenance is on its own. The callbacks to the larger Ancillary / Radchaai universe were both delightful as well useful in centering the limited way Provenance connects and fits into the larger tapestry.

That's the initial hook here, seeing where and and how Provenance fits. But once that hook is set, the interplay of truth and lies and cultural identity is where Leckie makes her strongest mark with the novel. There's so much to chew on with the vestiges that it does, ultimately, drive the narrative and shapes the reactions of Ingray and Pahlad, as well as the intense family dynamic of the Aughskold family. An entirely separate essay can be written about how families work on Hwae, the value the family head places on performance and ingenuity, and how that impacts Ingray's actions and those of her brother Danach. The idea of provenance through families entirely filled by adoption is a fascinating one and is a rich part of the tapestry of the novel. If so few are born to a family, what does it mean to belong when you are plucked out of poverty and raised to a new family in a life of luxury, privilege, and power?

The Math

Baseline Assessment: 7/10

Bonuses: +1 for Leckie's light touch in connecting Provenance to the wider Ancillary universe and showing another facet to the cultural diversity contained within. It's not all Radchaai, folks.

Penalties: -1 because I might not have kept reading Provenance after the first two or three chapters if it wasn't written by Ann Leckie (on the other hand, I would have had a different set of expectations if it was by someone else)

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10,  "a mostly enjoyable experience". See more about our scoring system here.

Reference: Leckie, Ann. Provenance [Orbit, 2017]

POSTED BY: Joe Sherry - Co-editor of Nerds of a Feather, 2017 Hugo Award Finalist for Best Fanzine. Writer / Editor of the mostly defunct Adventures in Reading since 2004. Minnesotan. 

Friday, September 15, 2017

THE MONTHLY ROUND - A Taster's Guide to Speculative Short Fiction, 08/2017

Welcome! Pull up a stool—let me tell you what’s on tap today. August represents the height of summer for some, and for others the first step toward Autumn. For my SFF reading, the month seems full of heat, decay, distance, and ghosts. Which makes a certain amount of sense, what with 2017 on its downward slope, having cleared the peak of June and July and entered into the fast descent toward the end of the year. And what a year...

The flavors are mostly heavy, alluding to the coming harvest with the sweet tones of apple and barley. Looming behind that, though, is the specter of winter, and scarcity, and cold. The bite of IPA stands as a resistance to going gentle in that good night, a fire to guide lonely travelers through the chilling dark. The stories are pulled from across SFF, with a lean toward fantasy, from contemporary to historical to second world, but there’s a hint of science fiction as well, a glimpse of the void and a voice calling out into the distance of space.

August saw a huge amount of short SFF published, and constructing this month’s tasting flight was a particular challenge, but I hope I have captured something of the season. A feeling of the growing isolation winter will bring, with despair creeping along the edges of everything, held back only by the warmth of compassion and the power of people helping people. So settle in and peruse the flavors—I hope you find something you like. Cheers!

Tasting Flight - August 2017

Art by Ira Gladkova
“Avi Cantor Has Six Months To Live” by Sacha Lamb (Book Smugglers)
Notes:Singing with notes of sweet romance complicated by the spices of trust, betrayal, and perception, its cloudy pour slowly resolves into a golden hue that shines with warmth.
Pairs with: Chai Spiced Ale
Review: In the mire that is high school, Avi isn’t even out as a trans man when his name appears on a bathroom mirror with the titular warning/threat/???. Rumors flood in and suddenly (and mysteriously) Ian, the other trans boy in the same grade, wants to become friends. And, it turns out, maybe even boyfriends. What follows is a beautiful portrayal of a budding relationship, struggles with family, with depression and suicidal ideation, with trust and betrayal and, ultimately, with magic. Avi is almost instantly compelling, caught between the pressures to conform and his drive to be true to himself. He faces poverty, loneliness, and a school situation ignited by this strange message foretelling his death. Through his interaction with Ian he begins to push back against some of those, even as the nature of their relationship, and some secrets that Ian has been hiding, threaten to make everything much, much worse. It’s a piece that takes an even look at depression and consent, not condemning Avi for his despair but also showing that healing is possible, that trust in the face of a hostile world is still possible. Not easy, definitely, and not without a few large complications, but possible, and beautiful. The speculative element takes a little while to show up in this novelette, but when it arrives it’s a wonderful twist on a number of tropes, casting a deal with the devil (or a devil, at least) in new light. And I love that Avi’s problem isn’t presented as him being a trans boy, but rather the lack of support he has, the way that society has let him down not only as a queer child but as the child of a poor Jewish mother, and how the story captures family in such vibrant and warm tones. There is a definite darkness to the piece, to the dangers in Avi’s life and despair he often feels, but it’s also a story about joy and hope and getting past mistrust and the betrayals of adolescence to a place of acceptance, security, and affirmation.

“The Wanderers” by Ian McHugh (GigaNotoSaurus)
Notes: Striding confidently into a cold landscape, the flavors only really open up as the drink finds the fire of company to cut the chill of loneliness, distance, and cruelty.
Pairs with: Nut Brown Ale
Review: Life as a fox isn’t easy, especially for Rhy-lee, who inherited her mother’s wanderlust even as she was raised by her devoted father. Pulled between her love of home and her strong desire to explore, to go out and meet the world, Rhy-lee tries to find piece in building a family with her partner. When tragedy strikes, though, it becomes time for her to finally strike out, though not on her own. Accompanying her is Yfan-wyn, one of her two sons—the one afflicted with the same itch to roam as she has. And the story follows them as they embrace a part of themselves they have always denied and feared. Rhy-lee, because of how she was abandoned, because she feared hurting her family like her mother hurt her, and Yfan-wyn because it’s always been treated as something to resist, something that his mother always had to fight against. Yet here they are allowed to go, to explore, to make friends and escape danger and discover a world that is certainly not safe. But at the same time, even as the world threatened to chew them up and spit them back out, there’s something beautiful about it, about the wild wonder, the strangeness and the wider community that can exist only when the familiar is left behind and the unknown is pierced. And slowly Rhy-lee finds that what she feared isn’t the case, what her mother assumed isn’t the case—to explore and to wander doesn’t mean to give up a home. It doesn’t mean giving up a family. The action of the piece is intense but the story maintains a slower pace throughout, with a sweep of adventure and a definite sense of fun. It shows what the characters are capable of when they celebrate their drive outward, while showing how necessary it can be at times to have some place to return to, and people who will always welcome you back.

“un/furled” by Jes Rausch (Strange Horizons)
Notes: A rush of different flavor variations compete for attention within the clear confines of the glass, one subtly more dominant and yet all combining into a memorable, bracing whole.
Pairs with: Four Hop IPA
Review: A four-part computer consciousness, made from incorporating four very different humanoid minds, is put in charge of a massive solar collector and tasked with providing energy to a burgeoning population. Only there seems to be something wrong with the system, and as the minds begin to investigate, a number of anomalies become clear that point to a very different (and bleak) situation playing out. The voices of the personalities are clear even as they merge at times, the four minds a gestalt, a “we,” while also allowing for individuality. That split between the individual and the consensus becomes more and more apparent as the story progresses, as the darkness and the terror of what’s happening begins to creep in along the edges of perception. It looks at how the minds within the greater whole vie for dominance and control even as they’re supposed to work seamlessly together. It’s a story that looks at corruption and a system tainted by inequality and injustice, while at the same time imagining a computer consciousness that might be starting to slip into a kind of dementia. It’s not a piece that provides solid answers, but one that provides clues for the reader to follow, an unreliable narrator struggling to hold things together. And for me it’s a story that resonates with the loneliness of space and the desperation of what might be the last vestige of an entire civilization, detached from the planet of its birth and yet connected as well, holding on as long as they can even as time takes more and more away. The style is bracing and strange but works to create an experience that blends some visual tricks and literary gymnastics to great effect. It explores memory and loss, ability and ignorance, and does it all with a keen focus and devastating impact.

Art by Red Nose Studio
“The Library of Lost Things” by Matthew Bright (Tor)
Notes: Deep and with a since of nearly overwhelming longing, the first sip is a punch of premise and wonder that settles into a darker and much more intimate profile.
Pairs with: Barleywine
Review: The premise alone would have been enough to make me stop and pay attention to this story—a library made up of the stories lost to the world, the books that people never finish, or the works that are lost to time through accident or intentional destruction. Thrown into the mix, though, is a community of people working in this environment, ruled over by the authoritarian Librarian, for whom imagination is a sin, and populated by denizens stolen from time or made up of ideas and bits of detritus. And newly employed as a cataloger of these lost texts comes Tom, a young man on a very specific mission, infiltrating the Library in order to find a particular lost book. Along the way, though, he gets to know the other residents of the Library (including a few absolutely adorable Library rats), and discovers the complex and wrenching nature of this place, of history, of being lost. The story is full of longing, full of Tom’s need to hide who he is in order to pass safely before the Librarian’s scrutinizing gaze. The backdrop to the story is the destruction of stories and texts, from book burnings to moments of authorial self-doubt, and the Librarian’s voice becomes the one saying that these stories are best forgotten, catalogued but never experienced. It renders the loss of so many texts, of so many voices, value neutral, which is something that Tom cannot do, who feels the loss like a cut, like the absence that they are. It’s a story full of a heavy tension of the constant fear of discovery—Tom’s mission is largely isolating and personal, but it also allows for intimate connections and slow reach toward something better, safer, for stealing something lost and dragging it back into the light.

“Our Secret, In Keys” by Suyi Davies Okungbowa (Fireside)
Notes: With a nose of fire and notes of sweetness swirling into something almost chaotic and brash, the experience is breathtaking even as it is nearly violent in its boldness.
Pairs with: Cinnamon Hard Cider
Review: At the heart of this story is a relationship, fragile in the fact that one of the people in it is something powerful and magical and dangerous, unable to contain their fire when exposed to certain kinds of light. It’s a strain between the two, who live from place to place, trailing destruction, until they find what seems a perfect place, where they can shut the rest of the world away. The story, to me, becomes about the barriers and limitations. The nature of the character means that there are things they cannot do, ways that they cannot be together because of how they would hurt each other. Where this distance is a comfort to one of the characters, though, for the narrator it is unbearable, and so they go about trying to find a way to break through that barrier, regardless of what their partner wants or consents to. And in that the story becomes about fire and which of the character’s heats is more dangerous. Certainly one of them can start buildings on fire, and yet that doesn’t hold a candle to the damage that the narrator’s passion can do, the destruction not limited to property or even life, but to something much more intangible but even more important. Because the story is about the destruction of trust and respect, how breaking through those barriers are toxic to relationships, to love. It’s not a story about monsters so much as it is about prisons. Those that people are born into because of their natures and those that people create for themselves, built with the bricks of betrayal and violation and far more isolating and consuming because of it. It’s a rather heartbreaking story, beautiful and fiery but leaving only ash in its wake.

Art by Dana Tiger
“If a Bird Can Be a Ghost” by Allison Mills (Apex)
Notes: Pouring a ghostly yellow like the memory of sunlight, the drink mixes the bitterness of loss with a dim hope that persists, strong and lifting and holding on despite the grief.
Pairs with: White IPA
Review: Shelly is a young woman, the granddaughter of a real-life ghostbuster, someone who eases spirits into the next world and exorcises them from homes when they become a bit too troublesome. The story takes a very fresh and interesting take on ghosts, though, casting the most troublesome as the ghosts of animals confused over what has happened to them and showing that it’s ghosts who have much more to fear from people than the other way around. For Shelly, what starts as a way to connect with her grandmother becomes something else when she experiences a sharp loss and refuses to accept it, keeps looking to this supernatural phenomenon to try and ease the pain and grief that she feels, avoiding dealing with death by seeing it as somehow not final. The story is a mix of heavy loss and something lighter, almost fun, as Shelly learns about the way of ghosts. It’s a story about growing up and dealing with loss, learning that there is no bargaining with some things, that for all Shelly is granted power by her ability to bind ghosts, they cannot stand in for the people that are gone, and that ultimately she needs space and time to heal, not drawers stuffed with old ghosts who don’t understand what’s going on. It’s a slower story and a difficult one at times because of how understandable Shelly’s anger and frustration are, and how much harm she is capable of doing to reflect the hurt she holds inside. Even so, it’s a piece that reaches for healing and release, even if grief lingers and haunts for a time, even if pain never fully departs. And it’s also about asking for help, and allowing others in to try and ease what pain can be eased, finding comfort in family and community and finding the strength to move on and help others, especially those who are vulnerable and alone.


POSTED BY: Charles, avid reader, reviewer, and sometimes writer of speculative fiction. Contributor to Nerds of a Feather since 2014.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

Thursday Morning Superhero

Comic book covers are getting a blast from the past! While DC is attempting to make lenticular cool again, Valiant is upping its game with authentic 90's foil covers! The 90's were plagued with "foil" variants and it appears that Valiant found a stock of vintage holofoil and is giving Quantum and Woody the foil treatment in honor of its upcoming television series.  I cannot wait to see what these look like. Anyhoo, time to check out this week's pull list!

Pick of the Week:
Babyteeth #4 - Just when Sadie thinks things can't get any worse after discovering her son will only drink blood and may have caused some natural disasters as he was born, her father notices that she has multiple baby bottles filled with her own blood and is understandably concerned. Donny Cates' story about the birth of the Antichrist hit close to home this week as it had me question how I would approach a situation like this as a father. Clearly the initial impression is one of extreme concern for the mental well being of Sadie, but when a bounty hunter shows up to kill Sadie and her child his fatherly instincts kick in. If that wasn't enough to deal with in this issue, Sadie's sister Heather is now dealing with what appears to be vampires or some other sort of monster that will clearly play a role moving forward. I love the world that Cates has created and appreciate how real all of his characters feel despite the supernatural situations they all find themselves in. Definitely one of my favorite new series and Cates is an author you will want to keep your eye on.

The Rest:
Doctor Aphra #12 - This series continues to delight. When we last left Aphra she was just informed that Vader was crashing the party. Apparently BeeTee and Triple-Zero alerted him to the situation, without informing him about Aphra's role in everything, in an attempt to blackmail Aphra for their freedom. I was shocked when I learned it actually worked and really hope that a spin-off is in the works. Given a chance to flee, Aphra decides to stay and try to save the artifacts even though that involves dealing with both the ancient Jedi and Vader. This series is a lot of fun and I love seeing a good side of Aphra after her introduction into this series.

Rick and Morty: Pocket Like you Stole It #3 - I just recently hopped on the Rick and Morty bandwagon and absolutely love how chaotic the series is.  While I skipped the first two issues, this issue is chaotic and definitely fits in with the direction the show is going. Morty is attempting to take down the Council of Ricks, but needs to enlist the help of his mom and her army of Jerrys (his dad). Reading this makes me feel like I need to go back and read the first two to see how this stacks up with the show. It definitely seems like a good fit, but I need the whole story before I render a final judgement. Something tells me that fans of the show will enjoy this series as it seems very true to form.

POSTED BY MIKE N. aka Victor Domashev -- comic guy, proudly raising nerdy kids, and Nerds of a Feather contributor since 2012.

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Poetry

Through the darkness of future past
The magician longs to see
One chants out between two worlds:
Fire walk with me

It has been a little over a week since Twin Peaks ended. Ended? I'm almost halfway through re-watching the new series by now, and while certain things do make more sense after having seen where this is all going, it remains clear that all things will not be made clear.

I've been thinking a lot about what to make of, or, honestly, how to even think about what I saw over the 18 episodes of this resurrected series. It gave me my favorite hour of television ever — the bleak, inscrutable, horrifying, surreal episode eight, "Gotta light?" — and delivered more good episodes of Twin Peaks than the entire run of the original series. It opened up the world in a way that allowed us to ask a million more questions about what's "really" going on, what's behind the veil in the Twin Peaks Universe, and over the 18 episodes, answered about 35 of those questions. There are bad jokes, goofy happenings and characters, seemingly pointless scenes that go on for a long, long time, and scenes of miserable violence and suffering. WHAT'S IT ALL MEAN?? That's what it seems like everybody wants to know. And I kind of want to know, too.

But does it have to mean something? Really?

For me, now, the question "What the hell did I just watch?" has changed, and given way to "What the hell did I just feel?" And I think that's maybe the place I was supposed to get to.

It occurred to me that Twin Peaks at least this incarnation (much less-so the original series) is poetry. Many, many years ago I made peace with poetry by no longer requiring of myself as a reader that I "understand" it. It became far, far more important to me that I feel it. And that was enough.

This is the water, this is the well.
Drink full and descend.
The horse is the white of the eyes and dark within.

I love e.e. cummings with a burning passion. It's fine if you don't. The first time I read "anyone lived in a pretty how town," as a child...maybe a teenager but maybe brought tears to my eyes. Actual, oh-God-don't-let-anybody-see tears. In high school, when I saw that we were going to study that poem in English class, I was thrilled. And then we "broke it down" and "analyzed" it, and it robbed the poem of its magic. I mean, in that moment. Nothing can rob it of its magic, but it was a grind. Ok, yes, "Anyone" and "Noone" stand in for people's names, sure. And why is it a "how town"? Because people are busy, I guess? I mean, look. Sure. You can pick it apart, you can ask why "floating" comes before "many," you can unpack how many times the same dream metaphor is used for death. You may hit the egg with a hammer to see what's inside, but you won't have an egg anymore.

Sometimes it is enough to intuit, and to feel, and to put the analytical away. Why, in your dream, might you be terrified of a jug of milk on a counter? No reason, except you know you should be terrified of it. It doesn't matter if they really met last year at Marienbad. It is enough to wonder.

So that's where I'm at with Twin Peaks, and thank you, thank you to the executives at Showtime who gave us this artwork. I don't know that they got what they needed out of the business part of this show, but I feel like we have been given a gift. I don't love everything about it, but the fact that it exists in the world gives me joy, and ties me up in knots, and makes me ask questions I so, so rarely get to ask while watching TV.

Why is Monica Bellucci a dream detective? Because that scene is magic. Why is Phillip Jeffries a tea kettle? Because David Bowie died and his character had to be something. What happened to Becky? Or Audrey? Or, hell, Laura Palmer? Savage men do terrible things, and these cycles should stop, but often don't. If there was a message to these 18 episodes, I think it was that. But Dale Cooper is always, I think, the best of us. That part of us that wants to always fight against these corrosive, destructive cycles, even if we do not win. Even if we cannot, ultimately, win.

And that, for me, is enough. Even if I'm wrong.

Posted by Vance K — cult film reviewer and co-editor of nerds of a feather, flock together since 2012, Emmy-winning producer, and singer of loud folk songs.