The Child, the Book and the Checklist.

Just finished reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to Winter. Life goal #22: complete.

Next up: Prince Caspian, because the books should be read in published order not chronological order. In my extraordinarily humble opinion.

UPDATE
Haha. Glamma informs me that the reading order for the Narnia series is actually a highly contentious issue that has been debated on the Internet at great length. I shouldn't be surprised—I've been on the Internet long enough to know that almost every issue has been debated at great length thereon—but still, I am. I mean, I can't see how anyone could argue in favour of reading them chronologically—at least, no one who'd actually read the books. To start with the Magican's Nephew is to totally undermine, ruin even, the whole story of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and to diffuse it of its magic. Maybe you could argue for some other non-publishing order, but never chronological.

Books, Wonderfully Sorted Books.

There's a scene in High Fidelity where John Cusack embarks on an ambitious, post-break-up project to arrange his massive record collection... autobiographically! Brilliant! I wish I could break the comfortable confines of such boring and traditional techniques as alphabetical and chronological, but I'm just not that bold.

Maybe, by way of working up to that noble goal, I could experiment with following:

Arranged by colour...


...and arranged by narrative.


Top shelf. There are a stack more 'narrative' images in the Sorted Books project, so click the link above for more.

UPDATE
Sadly, of limited use to us non-bootcamping Mac users, but readatwork.com is worth a look (if you can withstand the Powerpoint layout horrors).

UPDATE 2
To illustrate a pleasing digression that's come up in the Comments, here's the centre of the White Stripes' CD, White Blood Cells. As you can see, the disc is completely white with no manufacturer's markings to be seen, and so it's 12 o'clock time, on time, all the time!

Star Wars on Trial.

I've recently finished reading a most enjoyable if somewhat disheartening book called Star Wars on Trial. The book takes the form of a courtroom trial, with prominent Science Fiction and Fantasy authors arguing a range of charges as members for the prosecution or defense.

There are eight charges in total, examples of which include: "The politics of Star Wars are anti-democratic and elitest," "Science Fiction filmmaking has been reduced by Star Wars to poorly written Special Effects Extravaganzas," "Women in Star Wars are portrayed as fundamentally weak," and "The plot holes and logical gaps in Star Wars make it ill-suited for an intelligent viewer."

This last charge is argued for the prosecution by Nick Mamatas in his statement to the court entitled, "Laziness Leads to Sloth, Sloth to Incompetence, Incompetence to Stupidity, and Stupidity to the Dark Side of the Force." Mamatas slams the state of contemporary SF/F filmmaking, arguing that the unparalleled success of Star Wars has ushered in an era of effects-driven blockbusters where the story is nothing more than a tool for a CGI-workout. This bias towards special effects over script development has meant that SF/F films have increasingly become "unbearably stupid." He continues:

"Indeed, going to see a science fiction or fantasy movie these days is not dissimilar to attending an extended performance art piece which involves several gorgeous people, all in wonderful if somewhat tasteless costume, wheeling a wheelbarrow full of raw, rancid bacon onto a stage. Handed pitchforks by the sequined-spangled assistants, the costumed beauties grab hold tightly of the handles, stick the spears of the forks into the wheelbarrows, and then fling the rancid bacon at the audience, all while screaming, "Eat it! Eat it, you stupid pigs! You morons love it!" The audience leaps to action, scrambling along the aisles and trying to grab up and shove as much of the foul bacon into their fat mouths as they can, stopping only to look up at the performers, point to their stuffed cheeks and mumble through tangles and blobs of rancid meat, "Yuth yuth ah fuff ith!" The stars sneer and howl, "That's right, you jowly bastards, gobble it up, and crap yourselves in glee!" When the meat runs out, the show is over."

I love it! Spot on. Hollywood churns out an endless run of cheeseburgers that somehow manage to smash box office record after record. It's mystifying. Look, I don't want to be the guy who asks why my fellow man seems so satisfied with cheeseburgers... but why is my fellow man so satisfied with cheeseburgers?! Because while the megabucks are pourin' in, it's not going to stop. They'll use a few ideas jotted down on a paper serviette for the script, and pour millions into the special effects because planet-shaking explosions, exotic aliens from a thousand different worlds, and mystical knights with laser swords back-flipping all over the screen are WAY COOL and will make for an AWESOME-looking preview that'll WOW consumers into the nearest box office queue in seconds! Hooray!

Mamatas' final word on the subject is:

"Take the bacon out of your mouths, boys and girls, and let's show Hollywood that we're not going to be fooled by well-cut trailers and nostalgia for our eight-year-old selves anymore. When you see a movie you think might be okay, but is probably going to suck as much as Star Wars, just stay home.
Repeat after me!
"Just stay home!"
"Just stay home!"
"Just stay home!"

Just stay home, and when the only records being set are those for low attendance, maybe we'll get a few more SF/F films where the effects help tell the story, and aren't the story.

On a related note, if you're in the mood for a good whinge about Star Wars, pop on over to Chef Elf's 'Reasons to Hate the Prequels.' Again, it's a depressing read, but an entertaining one, nonetheless. Don't bother going to the 'Star Wars on Trial' discussion board, as it seems to have been overrun by spamers (possibly from Kamino.)

Quotations marked.

Winston Churchill once said: “It is a good thing for an uneducated man to read books of quotations. The quotations, when engraved upon the memory, give you good thoughts. They also make you anxious to read the authors and look for more.”

I'd like to say that is why I am drawn to quotes, why I collect quotes, and often speak in quotes, but I don't think it would be true. I think my love comes mostly from that dweeby little gumboot-wearing Monty Python nerd that lurks down inside me. The 'Constitutional Peasant' from Monty Python and the Holy Grail is the first slab of text I remember intentionally committing to memory; listening over and over to my audio cassette version of 'The final rip-off.' I'm not sure if that's quite what Churchill had in mind, but close enough. The movies and TV shows of today may not be as venerable as the works of Wordsworth or Keats, but they can bring great pleasure nonetheless.

As near as I can tell, people who engage in verbatim regurgitation (if it’s not against their principles) do so for one of three reasons:

Out of insecurity. If you've got nothing worthwhile of your own to say, referencing the wit and wisdom of others can be a great shortcut to appearing both wise and witty yourself. Unless of course you're sprung reading from a list of quotes and trying to pass them off as your own.

Out of a desire to belong. Rattling off some obscure line from some obscure source and having someone follow up with the next line is like some sort of secret handshake, a sign that you're like-minded and in the know.

Out of a love for simple pleasures. Reciting your favourite quotes is like humming a favourite tune. It's a simple way of enjoying the form the words create, and recalling the pleasure they brought the first time you met.

I put myself squarely in the third category. During any activity where the mind can wander, I like to amble through my favourite scenes, seeing how far I can get before my memory fails. I also fall a fair bit into the second group, too, I must say. Especially when JJ is around, as it's a rare ball I can throw up that he can't knock down, which I do greatly enjoy. And, if I'm being completely honest, I'd have to say that I am not and nor have I ever been a member the first group. Definitely not. No.

Compulsive quoting, while generally harmless and safe for children, can lead to troubles. The line between your thoughts and the thoughts of others can begin to blur, and it's never a good thing to reveal to a loved one that that well-received expression of love and devotion you just delivered was actually a quote from The Simpsons. Too much quoting can also lead to a Crying Wolf type situation where people assume everything you say is just a quote, which is particularly frustrating on those (admittedly rare) occasions when I happen to craft a diamond of my own: “What’s that from?” they'll ask. "From me! Glory be! Credit where credit's due, please." And of course there's the problem of quoting in mixed company, when some people might know what you're getting at, but others don't, which can be quite excluding. I do try to be careful and select my audience, but sometimes I just can't help it. It's a reflex, like swatting at a fly. Someone on the teev says, "Come with me," and I'll say "If you want to live." Stimulus, response. I'll even put on the Schwarzenegger voice.

Anyway, the point of all this is if you think I'm annoying, I'm here to tell you things could be a whole lot worse. I've just learned of Danielle Freakley, The Quote Generator. As a part of her PhD thesis apparently, she will spend the next three years conversing in nothing but quotes. Three years. Did I mention three years? There are a few barley zones (at home, during work, etc), but otherwise her side of every conversation will be composed entirely of referenced quotes. I heard her interviewed by Triple J (the radio station, not the big guy who comments on this blog), with the conversation running along these lines:

Robbie Buck: Why are you doing this?
Danielle Freakly: You met me at a very strange time in my life. Fight Club, 1999.
RB: And do you get negative reactions when people discover what you're doing?
DF: Yes. Optus, 1999.
RB: And does that discourage you, make you want to stop?
DF: I don't think so, Tim. Home Improvement, 1991-1999.

Etc, etc. It was strange, but quite fun... and she's got three years to go. I wonder if the novelty will have worn off by then? She seemed to converse quite easily, with only the odd hesitation while she tried to dredge up an appropriate quote, and her range was quite impressive. Although if she does get stuck or finds herself at a loss, she could always take a leaf out of George Bernard Shaw's book, who said: "I often quote myself; it adds spice to my conversation." Nice.

It occurs to me however that even though it's a no-holds-barred quotefest for three years, three years will at least come to an end. Whereas I, presumably, will continue to make references to dead people getting better, objects being in the third drawer down, and any number of Orange Whips for many years to come. So maybe I am more annoying, after all?

Set up.

What began as part of another story has taken on a life of its own. I can’t believe it’s happened again.

There are few things I love more than a good collection. Gathering, sorting and arranging a related set of objects together is one of life’s great pleasures. Be it general collections, like books and CDs, or more specific ones, like Boba Fett action figures (currently 21), different editions of my favourite novel, Catch-22 (18), or alternate versions of Duke Ellington’s jazz standard, Caravan (40), I find the urge to collect compulsive.

And it isn’t just things of value that I find it satisfying to draw together; any old crap will do: expired Metlink tickets, old bank statements, and even empty toilet roll tubes. Which leads me to wonder if perhaps the collecting is more important than the collection? Because I can think of no other way to explain the appeal of collecting cardboard cylinders. You know when you finish a roll, and instead of throwing it away, you place it on a shelf or on the window sill? First one, then two, and before you know it there’s a teetering tower of toilet rolls blocking out the light. All it takes are two tubes sitting there for me to catch the vision. Two tubes to make me look forward to the end of the next roll so that my tower can grow…

Oh dear. That’s unfortunate. And, I guess, revealing? Who would have known there’d be some sort of phallic resonance behind my compulsion; some instinctive need to build something larger than myself, to create a sense of significance through the construction of a… what do psychologists call it, an extension of myself?

Well, whatever, let’s not dwell on it.

No, let’s get back to the simple pleasure of gathering a collection. And the most satisfying sort of collection is the set: a collection with a starting point, an end point and a bunch of boxes to tick off in between. The set allows for the greatest sense of satisfaction because you know when you’re done and when you can rest; when you can ease your chair back onto its hind legs, and gaze with satisfaction on the completeness of what you’ve brought to be.

The only thing I dislike in a set is inconsistency; when common or repeating elements don’t match up. Titles change size or position, the logos move around and don’t line up, or, ye gods, the style changes altogether! I love variation, but variation within a theme.


Somewhat like a family of superheroes, where each member has their own distinct character and attributes, while still belonging to a larger, unified whole. Or a jazz performance where each player’s solo is a unique take on the same signature tune. I enjoy seeing how a style adapts and flows across a series (of books, CDs, DVDs or whatever), be it through colour, typeface, style of imagery, or the like. I like to see that the designer has thought ahead and considered the possibilities, and hasn’t just treated each new item as an all but blank canvas. Not that the designer’s always responsible, of course, as many inconsistencies result from bumps along the road of production, and most such issues are more niggles than throat-stompers. The real problem comes when the bean-counters get too involved, as bean-counters care only for their beans...


First up, there was Harry Potter. Disbelieve me if you will, but my choosing the adult covers (or ‘senior reader’ covers, if you prefer) over the original kiddie covers, had nothing to do with shame or embarrassment. It was simply that the kiddie covers were so absolutely awful, and I had the option to choose. Actually, the adult ones aren’t great either, but they’re restrained and don’t look like they’ve been drawn by a colour-blind hedgehog in a bag (to nick a favourite Blackadder expression). So I bought in, and guess what? When the fifth book of seven was released the publishers dumped the existing adult style and re-released the entire series in a completely different one. What’s an anal perfectionist to do? There’s no way I’m having four spines on my bookshelf in one style and three in another that’s completely different. So I stopped buying and started borrowing. Sorry JK, that new wing on your castle will just have to wait.


And speaking of borrowing over buying, I wish I’d done that when it came to Robert Jordan’s ponderous Wheel of Time saga. For a while Jordan drew me along with a carrot of promise, but over time he started using it to just slap me in the face. Not only did he make me slog through 7125 pages (for real) featuring (roughly) the same number of surly and unlikeable characters, involved in an exponentially growing number of plots and sub-plots, but he (or rather, his publisher, but I’m not feeling generous enough to make the distinction) rebooted the series’ artwork after nine of his wretched house-bricks. Nine! Forget the faithful who’ve been on-board from the start! Let me tell you, Orbit Books: if sales figures are falling, the problem does not lie with the covers. And notice how not only does the publisher's logo change for book eight (annoying), but it then changes back to the original logo for book nine (even more annoying)!

And so, lesson (to pass onto our children’s children) learned: don’t buy into a series until it’s complete.

Only, that’s no help with a series already underway. Just when I thought it safe to go back into the bookshop, in sink the sharp, pointy teeth of Martin Gilbert’s three volume epic, ‘A History of the Twentieth Century’.


I bought Volumes 1 and 2 when they were released back in the late 90s, but I somehow missed number 3. I kept an eye out for it over the years, but it never crossed my path. As I just recently started on Volume 1, I finally decided to make a real effort to track the elusive book down. Though the hardcover is out of print in Australia, it is available on Amazon.com, but with different cover art to mine, which I assumed to be the US style. Confusingly though, the same style appears not only on the version available at Amazon.co.uk, but also in the listing on Martin Gilbert’s website. In fact, I could find no trace anywhere of Volume 3 featuring a style of cover that matched my two. Even eBay, Google, and peering through the entrails of a slaughtered Himalayan yak turned up nothing. Figuring that if anyone would know, the author would know, I sent Sir Martin an email through his website, asking if he was able to end the madness? This was his prompt reply:

Thank you so much for your most encouraging words.

Alas, there never was a uniform edition of volume three. I am sorry about this. I do not know what got into the publisher's heads.

With further thanks for writing as you do. You have made my day! Kind regards, Martin Gilbert

Not quite the, “It certainly does exist, and, here, I’ll send you one of the autographed copies I happen to have lying around,” that I was hoping for, but it’s good to have a definitive answer, at least. And bonus points for using 'alas'; one of my favourite words. What a friendly chap!

So, I’m left with five (equally unpleasant) options:
1. Buy Volume 3 in a non-matching style. (Does not compute);
2. Buy Volume 3 in a non-matching style and glue on a mocked-up spine in the original style. (No-one might know, but I would know);
3. Sell current volumes and buy all three in new style. (Possible, but alternate style is, imho, inferior);
4. Leave things as they are and not buy anything. (But if I don’t build it, they will not come); or
5. GEEEEETTT OVER IT! Seriously! (Hmmm. Sounds simple, but would in fact require complete rewiring of personality).

So! What a pit to be stuck in. Though, at least, some consolation, I haven’t fallen into the larger (possibly bottomless) pit of Star Wars. That, however, is a whole other post….

A Grate Read.

I just happened to pick up and glance through the ‘2006 Books Alive Great Read Guide’ which claims to contain “50 books so good, everyone will want to read them.” Ok, well let’s test that by selecting a sample at random… hmm, what about this one on page 12: ‘The Omega Scroll’ by Adrian d’Hage?

'A DYNAMITE ADVENTURE ABOUT THE VATICAN’S BIGGEST FEAR'

“A ruthless cardinal who’ll stop at nothing to become the next pope, missing nuclear suitcase bombs, an ancient scroll with a terrible warning for humanity – this book has it all.”

Woah! It certainly does; including the plots of at least four other books! The only thing I can think of that’s missing is a ‘dangerous and torrid love affair’. And ninjas, of course. Every story needs ninjas. The blurb continues:

”As a journalist, an archaeologist and Vatican investigators race against time to unlock the secrets of a Dead Sea Scroll that has remained hidden for 2000 years, a CIA agent attempts to track down the nuclear devices. The stakes couldn’t be higher.”

And the connection between those two plot threads couldn’t be more unclear. Are they actually related? Or are they just too good not to have crammed in there? Talk about write-by-numbers. What a contemptible pool of dribble. Kate and I sat down and tried to top Mr d’Hage for ridiculousness, but soon gave up realising it was a near-impossible task. It’s not easy to parody something that already is one.

Who’d even consider reading this rubbish?!

"For fans of The Da Vinci Code, this is a must-read book."

Aah. Of course. Sorry, Books Alive, but your credibility and that of your "independent panel of book industry experts" is as flimsy as The Omega Scroll’s disconnected plots. No amount of stirring endorsements from Aussie Steve Waugh or TV's Andrew Daddo will get me reading this crap. See you in 2007.

Go figure.

So apparently a couple of the mouth-breathers on Big Brother were having a discussion about why the game show they were on had the name it did. ‘Big Brother’ didn’t seem right. Wouldn’t ‘Father Figure’ be a better name?

Gretel, of course, smirked it for all it was worth, presenting them with their own copies of ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’ once they were evicted. I didn’t see the presentation, but I can just imagine the smarm. “Here you go, dummies. Go and read a book and get yourself an education,” like she’s so much better than they are. Sure, they should have at least a vague awareness of where Big Brother comes from, but I reckon the greater sin is committed by Gretel. She’s (apparently) read the book, knows who Big Brother is, and yet is still comfortable using the name for her fluffy, vacuous, trivial bit of nothing of a game show. That's what's really tragic. George Orwell's spinning so fast he could power a small city.

The Lion, etc.

Did you hear me being interviewed on the radio the other week about my thoughts on The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe? Ok sure, I was actually just one of a number of callers to ABC talkback, and yes, it was a discussion with Tracy Bartram, but my voice still travelled out across the length and breadth of this wide, brown land we call home... well, across Victoria anyway.

Tracy didn’t like the film, but that’s ok because I don’t like Tracy. I find her irritating, like lemon juice flicked into your eyes.

Tracy was hosting the 774 Breakfast Program while Red Symons was on holiday, and I’ll tell you, there are few things that can snap you into consciousness faster than the coarse sound of Tracy’s voice in the morning. Like a sharp jab to the larynx, it slices through the fog of slumber and wrenches you awake, triggering an apoplectic fit as you flounder frantically for the Snooze button.

Anyway, just as I was about to hurl the alarm clock at the wall, Tracy asked for listeners to phone in with their opinions of the Narnia movie, and started to give her own. My curiosity was captured, and my hand was stayed. For the moment at least. As I said before, she didn’t like it, which put her at odd with her callers, who all did. I wasn’t going to call in, but then I heard her say that one thing that irritated her was that you’ve got these English children in a very English movie and then they go through the wardrobe and the first creature they meet is an American beaver! To me, the beavers’ British accents placed their origin elsewhere, so I thought I’d call to set her straight.

The show’s producer answered the phone and asked for my name and suburb, which I gave her. “Did you like the film,” she asked? “Yes, I did,” I replied. “Ah, good. So did I. She’s on her own here.” He, he.

When I got through to Tracy I told her I liked the film but that I was calling because she’d said that the beavers were American when they were clearly English. The only American accent came from Morgrim the wolf. “Oh no,” she clarified, “I meant the beaver is an American animal.” One wonders why Tracy was troubled at seeing an American beaver in an English setting, but not an African lion, and a… well, you know, a faun, a unicorn, a centaur, and a minotaur? She asked me what I thought of the evil wolf being given an American accent, and I said I found it quite refreshing. Villains, more often than not, have British accents, while the heroes have American ones, as in Star Wars, for example, so I thought it was nice to see it the other way around. She said she guessed that was what was good about the ABC, that everyone was entitled to express their own opinion. I asked if she was going to read the book, and she said she had no intention of doing so. Which is a shame.

So yes, I was very happy with The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Not a perfect film, but a very satisfying adaptation of the book. I thought Lucy and Edmund were brilliant. Great casting. Peter and Susan were mostly irritating, though fortunately not to the extent of Lucy from the 80’s TV series, who made me want to bash her head in with a paving stone. I also liked how the animals were just animals, and didn’t wear clothes like they did in the TV series. Strangely enough, they looked more dignified without pants on!

I thought the character development in the film was a little heavy-handed and awkward at times, particularly when it came to showing how selfish and irresponsible Edmund was. Yes, I get it! Move on! I don’t know if I would have had Liam Neeson’s voice for Aslan. His voice had the warmth and strength I was expecting, but not the majesty. Maybe James Earl Jones would’ve made the whole thing seem like The Lion King 2, but that’s who I’ve long heard as Aslan. He’s just incredible. (Except when he’s Darth Vader screaming “Noooooooo!” like some overacting, B-grade hack. Then he’s just awful; but, to be fair, I don’t think anyone could have made that line work.)

Contrary to some early reports, the film wasn’t cunning Christian proselytising designed to poison children’s minds with Christian values and soften them up like some sort of pre-evangelism. The underlying allegory was there if you wanted to see it, and easy to miss if you didn’t. In fact, if you didn’t know anything about Christianity, the Christian references would go right over your head. I think a lot of people have been getting too worked up over the issue. The story may be influenced by that of Christianity, but, as Age writer Philippa Hawker recently pointed out, it’s also influenced by “E. Nesbit, Enid Blyton, The Wind in the Willows, Greek mythology, Norse tales, Hans Christian Andersen and schoolboy chivalric fantasies”. Whatever its influences are, I think it’s a wonderful story with a positive message that anyone can enjoy and benefit from hearing.

So one down, somewhere between four and six more to go, depending on who you talk to (apparently not all the books would do well as films). I just hope they make The Last Battle (and make it well), which is my favourite of the Narnia books. Actually, I wonder if people will still call this one ‘Narnia’ when the other films are out? I know ‘The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe’ is a bit of a mouthful, but that, not ‘Narnia’, is the film’s title. Yes, yes, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe is the actual title, but if you have to shorten anything it should be the book title, not the series title. What’s wrong with “The Lion, etc.” for example? I think that’s what I’ll use. Maybe people will call them Narnia 1, Narnia 2, and so on? I guess we’ll find out soon enough.