Every once in a while I’ll read a collection that reminds me why I fell in love with short stories in the first place.  Maureen F. McHugh’s After the Apocalypse (2011) is one of those collections.  Often short fiction, particularly in the SF and fantasy genres, requires an entirely different set of reading eyes – a total change of mental gears.   I often feel that I am reading for concept, for message, or for technique, rather than for the straight-ahead, unadulterated storytelling that novels more often provide.  McHugh’s writing is so smooth and agreeable, it requires no adjustment.  Even her shortest tales read with the flow of longer narrative.  It looks so easy when it’s done this well.

Nicely produced by the eminent Small Beer Press, After the Apocalypse gathers nine McHugh stories, three previously unpublished.  It’s aptly titled, for sure, with a running theme of coping with world-shattering disasters,  both personal and global.  Every story is worthwhile and interesting, but I’ll focus on my favorites.  The opening tale, “The Naturalist,” makes for a powerful start, a grim but moving commentary on the human condition.  It’s a dark and thoroughly engrossing novelette about one man’s survival in a “zombie penal reserve” in future Cleveland, and it pulls no punches.  The follow-up is “Special Economics,” one of my favorite stories from Dozois’ 26th annual best-of collection.  McHugh is in her best near-future mode as she follows the lives of young girls in China navigating corporate debt slavery in a world wracked by workforce depletion.   My favorite in this volume is probably “Useless Things,” a beautifully melancholic near-future tale of a sculptor living alone in the water-starved southwest, understated and evocative environmental SF.   For a more personal apocalypse, there’s “The Lost Boy:  A Reporter at Large.”  Written in a journalistic style, this one tells the story of a teenaged boy who, in the wake of a terrorist dirty bomb attack, enters a diassociative fugue state.   And “After the Apocalypse” bookends the volume nicely, presenting an eye-opening glimpse of a post-collapse world, with a particular focus on how women will be impacted by the breakdown of civilization.

McHugh’s tone is often dark and cautionary, but there’s a beauty and a fearlessness to her vision, and a pointed, thought-provoking focus on confronting the world’s major issues.  A superb collection; this is science fiction that matters.

Jenn and I made a joint resolution to get out of the house more often this year.  One reason for this is that we stayed holed up for much of 2011 hoarding our nickels and dimes, and we decided enough was enough!  Another reason is that while both of us love Los Angeles, neither of us expects we’ll be able to stay in the area forever, and we felt we needed to take advantage of what the city has to offer while we’re here.  It’s been fun so far, and 2012 is flying by at breakneck speed.

One thing we’ve been doing more often is venturing out to new restaurants.  Los Angeles has amazing food, and our favorites are so addictive – especially Bun Me, Café Carolina, More Than Waffles – that in the past we’ve tended to favor them.  But recently we’ve been exploring other options, checking out new Thai, Japanese, Indian, Vietnamese, and even Himalayan places.  So much good food here!

We also want to take in more local events, and last weekend we went down to the David Schall Theater in Hollywood to see a play called Yours, Isabel.  This interesting one-act by Christy Hall is based on a series of letters between a young woman in New Jersey and her fiance’ during World War II.   It’s an interesting look at shifting gender roles and emotional struggles for both women on the home front and men serving overseas during the war.  An impressive production, and the cast – just two people, Heather Chesley and Rick Marcus, each performing multiple roles – was terrific.

Finally, in case you were under a rock, last week was the release of Jenn’s novel Above World! Unfortunately I was sick early in the week and we had to scuttle some release day plans, but on Friday I was able to tag along to Jenn’s book launch/signing at Mysterious Galaxy, an independent bookstore in Redondo Beach.  This beautiful new store is a new branch, affiliated with the original in San Diego, and it has an awesome space for author events.  A good crowd turned out despite epic holiday weekend traffic, and the event was a rousing success.  Plus, Jenn’s books sold out!

All in all we’re living up to our resolution so far this year.  Hopefully I’ll have more “outing reports” in the near future!

I’m always looking for albums that take me a while to figure out, music that still surprises me on the umpteenth listen.  Sometimes the search for this kind of album takes me down obnoxious paths, but it’s usually worth the risk, because it almost always leads me to discover musicians who can really shred, and tends to extend the shelf life of the music for me. Here are the results of my latest search:

Attention Deficit is an instrumental, improvisational power trio featuring bassist Michael Manring, drummer Tim “Herb” Alexander, and guitarist Alex Skolnick.   Their second release, The Idiot King (2001), is – like their self-titled debut – a mostly agreeable mix of funk and jazz, the compositions loosely structured,  designed to showcase the world class skills of the players.  Manring’s sound is particularly distinctive and impressive.   But ultimately this is a like-not-love find, for me.  Jams that revolve around soloing, rather than structure, don’t tend to hold my interest as long.  More than happy for these tunes to pop up on random, though.

Blotted Science has complex structure to burn, and impressive speed-metal guitar chops from Ron Jarzombek, but the pseudo-cleverly titled EP The Animations of Entomology (2011) feels to me a little over-familiar, too reminiscent of earlier Jarzombek work — both with Spastic Ink and on this band’s previous album.  The jury’s still out, but so far I’m not as immediately blown away by this release, which has a “more of the same” feel.

New to me is the band Niacin, another high-profile power trio featuring drummer Dennis Chambers and bassist Billy Sheehan.  But the central, driving sound of this band is the Hammond B3 organ — get it?  I did…from Wikipedia — played by John Novello.  My first experiment with these guys is Time Crunch (2001), and it’s full of accomplished musicianship from all three players.   Part of me craves more high end from their distinctive sound — maybe a guitar or a sax to punch up the melody.  I think the playing is more impressive than the composing here, but some tunes, like that opening “Elbow Grease,” are both polished and complex.  Probably dip back into this well again, at some point.

Finally, there’s Periphery.  I checked out their recent, instrumental-only album Periphery (2010) on the promise of finding a rhythmically chaotic math-metal band that wasn’t marred by growling death-metal screaming, and this album delivers.  Their sound is pretty derivative, borrowing liberal inspiration from Meshuggah (particularly in its guitar sound and polyrhythmic  beats) as well as Dillinger Escape Plan.  But it’s a little more accessible than its obvious influences – more melody-friendly than Meshuggah, and less perverse and chaotic than D.E.P.  This is exactly the kind of heavy rotation album I’m looking for when I scour the internet for new music; I suspect it will take many, many listens to decipher its riffs and rhythms.

Being largely unschooled in young adult and middle-grade fiction, I decided to add some to my rotation.  And since I trust Ian McDonald’s track record, I thought what better place to start than his YA debut Planesrunner (2011), a colorful science fiction adventure, first in the Everness series.   Everett Singh is the hero, a precocious, intelligent fourteen-year-old whose father Tejendra is a brilliant quantum physicist.  As the story begins, Everett watches in horror as his father is abducted; shortly thereafter, he receives the “Infundibulum,” a computer program that enables the user to precisely navigate the multiverse.  It seems his father was working on a government team that has opened portals to alternate Earths, adding their reality to the “Plenitude,” a consortium of parallel worlds.  But it quickly becomes apparent that nefarious forces want to leverage Tejendra’s work toward unknown ends, and Everett is the only person Tejendra trusts with its power.

I found Planesrunner a little slow to ramp up, but once it does – when Everett ventures out into the multiverse in search of his father – it becomes quite fun and inventive.  Everett’s first cross-dimensional step lands him in a richly built world, rigorously thought out but with the playful feel of science fantasy.    Unfortunately I wasn’t a huge fan of the main character; Everett’s a little too awesome to be true , too brilliant and worldly by half for his fourteen years, which I found a little annoying.  The voice didn’t strike me as naturally middle grade, either; it felt a bit like mitigated adult SF, written down for a younger audience.  This is less noticeable as the book progresses, but it made for a curious tone, especially early on.   That said, McDonald populates his multiverse with interesting ideas and colorful characters, and the premise is entertainingly explored and rife with possibilities.  I liked the book without loving it; I suspect I just wasn’t quite the ideal audience for this one.  For the right reader, though, I think it will really strike a chord.

I’m not going to pretend that I can review this novel objectively. But I can’t help but join in the celebration: today is the release day for Jenn Reese’s Above World! This is Jenn’s middle grade debut, and it’s a wonderful book, a far future science fiction adventure full of invention, thrills, friendship, and heart — in other words, all things Jenn. It’s been a long, long road to publication, and a lot of hard work. I’m so proud of her, and so happy to be a part of her life. Happy Release Day, sweetie!

(Hmm, too bad there isn’t an appropriate holiday going on today for this post…)

Behold the awesome that is Above World!

Funny how a severe decrease in writing corresponds with an increase of television marathoning…lots of shows crossing my path lately, and for some reason, most of them involve cops and robbers.

I’ve become quickly, hopelessly addicted to Homicide: Life in the Street, the gritty 1990’s police procedural about crime-solving detectives in Baltimore.  This ensemble drama strikes me as a neglected, underappreciated companion show to NYPD Blue, its prettier, flashier contemporary.  Fact is, I think Homicide’s a better show:  certainly much more interesting and realistic, and less formulaic and grandstandy.  This one’s all about tone, dialogue, and atmosphere, and the cast is terrific, particularly Andre Braugher as the uncompromising Frank Pembleton, but also Clark Johnson, Yaphet Kotto, Melissa Leo, and others.  I zipped through the first three seasons in no time flat, and I’m hungrily awaiting the next four.

Another recent set:  I caught the first season of Da Vinci’s Inquest, a Canadian crime drama about Vancouver coroner Dominic Da Vinci (Nicholas Campbell).  This is an earlier show from Chris Haddock, the mind behind Intelligence (which I loved), and it’s interesting to look at as a warm-up for Intelligence – and possibly a Canadian counterpart to Homicide and NYPD Blue.  That said, I’ve liked it without loving it, and found myself growing a little disinterested in the last few episodes.  But there’s good, subdued chemistry from the cast, include Ian Tracey and Donnelly Rhodes as homicide detectives that work with Da Vinci.  (And an occasional bonus for Firefly fans:  a minor recurring role for Jewel Staite as Da Vinci’s daughter.)  I suspect I’ll casually stream an episode or two here and there, but it’s not quite marathon material.

And I’ve also finished up the first season of the Mission: Impossible reboot from 1988, which is in some ways better but in most ways far, far worse than I remembered it.  While the production values and location work are far superior, and there’s decent work from the new team members (particularly Thaao Penghlis and Tony Hamilton), there’s not much to recommend these episodes, which are severely gimped by unimpressively slapdash scripts.  The writers understand Mission tactics, but with no sense of strategy, and the original show’s style and class is utterly absent, replaced by cheesy, grinning jokes and synthetic gloss.  Yes, you do get to see the episode where the plan involves convincing the mark that Jim Phelps is Satan…but otherwise, there’s no real reason (beyond completism) to show up for this.

That’s it for this installment of Chris Watches Too Much TV, except for a quick mention that I’m just underway on a couple of other crime-centric new shows.  Boardwalk Empire, so far, strikes me as a polished, profane, and promiscuous fusion of Mad Men and The Sopranos:  period flourishes meet mafia rivalries.  I’m not fully invested yet after three episodes, but I’ll hang around out of loyalty to Steve Buscemi.  And the first two episodes of Luck, so far, have left me bored and bewildered, but mildly intrigued; Deadwood mastermind David Milch brings his particular brand of oblique, poetic dialogue to the contemporary world, its horsetrack/gambling milieu a metaphor for the American way of life.  So far it’s got Dustin Hoffman playing Dustin Hoffman, Nick Nolte playing Nick Nolte, too many horse races, and tons of tongue-twisting, sideways dialogue.  (Nice to see “Yeah, huh?” making a comeback!)  Hasn’t exactly captured my passion, as you can tell, but Milch is too interesting not to give the benefit of the doubt for at least a few more episodes.

The last couple of weeks provide more evidence, as if I needed any, that I’m happier when I’m writing than when I’m not writing.

January flew by in a blaze of productivity, as I returned to a disciplined writing schedule and churned out word count on Rogue Souls:  14,819, to be exact, taking the novel past the halfway point.  Not quite NaNo numbers, but I wasn’t aiming that high.  Not bad!

But when February arrived, I crashed, and haven’t written a lick since.  Part of it was the day job rearing its ugly head, part of it was writing fatigue, but on some level I think a petulant corner of my brain acts up after about a month of sustained wordsmithing and starts resenting the daily-grind-y-ness of getting that Ass In Chair every day — especially on top of a full-time job.  “I don’t want to write this month!”  *holds breath*

Also, I’m happy to note that blogging doesn’t seem to distract me from writing fiction.  In fact, I seem to blog more when I’m writing fiction.

January:  writing hard, happy, productive, kicking ass.

February:  not writing, pissy, grumbly, procrastinating and wasting time.

Tomorrow I’m going to try to get back at it, re-work the second half of my outline and gear up for another push.

Every time I think I’ve figured out my Effective Writing Method, the target moves on me…

I went into Chronicle (2012) with little foreknowledge and no expectations, and I definitely recommend that approach.  If you’re even remotely interested in the film, stop reading this, avoid reviews, and add it to your list.  The movie works best through surprise, humor, and unusual technique, a classic superhero origin story given an unconventional “found footage” spin.  I went in blindly and came out a fan.

Okay, now that you’ve seen it…Chronicle opens as a personal film project for Andrew Detmer (Dane DeHaan), a disaffected teenager whose life is pretty bleak:  his mother is ill, his father is abusive, and his social life is nonexistent.  Andrew buys an old video camera and starts documenting his daily life.  When his friend Matt (Alex Russell) talks him into coming to a party out in the middle of nowhere, Andrew reluctantly tags along, camera in tow.  There he’s recruited, by popular class president candidate Steve (Michael B. Jordan), to film a weird hole in the ground he and Matt have found.  The three boys investigate, with miraculous results:  they come out of the experience with telekinetic powers.  Their hesitant early experimenting leads to a slowly growing mastery.  “But with power comes responsibility…”

Like most superhero origin stories, Chronicle is strongest in its earliest stages, as the world is set up, the character relationships are built, and the mysterious powers start to manifest — especially once the boys’ mischievous personalities start inform their use of their new abilities.  As the powers improve and the story unfolds, the magic and humor of the early-going is replaced by dark turns and epic action.  The arc of the plot is pretty predictable, but the execution is adroit, and it all culminates in an emotionally charged final battle that’s worth getting invested in.  The special effects are generally seamless, but even when they aren’t, the immersive immediacy of the film disguises its rough edges.  The found footage conceit breaks down a bit in the final act, but I was in a forgiving mood by then.  An unexpectedly memorable and satisfying adventure.

Drive (2011) is like a movie out of time, a twisty crime tale that cherry-picks elements from various film eras.  A noirish slash of light here,  a turn-of-the-century antihero there, an ‘eighties background tune still elsewhere…it all comes together into a distinctive, singular mash-up.  Ryan Gosling stars as “Driver,” a stuntman/mechanic by trade who moonlights as a criminal getaway driver.  Driver lives a subdued, ultra-controlled existence, only letting his adrenaline flow when he gets behind the wheel.  That is, until he meets his next-door neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan), an attractive young mother with whom he develops a quiet, platonic romance.  His connection with  Irene leads him to throw his deliberate, cautious ways out the window when her husband Standard (Oscar Isaac) gets out of jail.  Standard wants to make a new start, but he’s up to his ears in debt with unscrupulous, brutal loan sharks, and Driver throws in with him to help out – with unexpectedly complicated, explosive results.

It’s confident and stylish and makes for a gripping watch, marred only by the occasional false directorial flourish – there are moments, here and there, that don’t quite ring true.  Gosling delivers an intriguing performance as the film’s reluctant antihero, equally likeable and off-putting in his considered, stone-faced manner.  (It’s hard to figure out which part is more reluctant, the “anti” or the “hero.”)  He’s supported admirably on all sides, particularly Bryan Cranston as his shifty boss, and Albert Brooks as a powerful criminal kingpin.  There isn’t a lot of substance to all its style, but there’s more than enough understated story, much of it visually told and beautifully shot.  Definitely worth the look.

One of my favorite science fiction novels of the past ten years is Geoff Ryman’s Air, a rich, vivid tale of a future China transformed by world-changing technology.  His collection Paradise Tales (2011) proves to be similarly rich, a diverse selection of intriguing genre stories.  I came away finding I prefer Ryman at longer lengths; this volume’s novelettes and novellas made stronger impressions on me, providing more time to sink into the writing style and immerse oneself in the exotic, inventive world-building.

Which isn’t to say that Ryman’s work is predictable; in fact, the diversity of approaches is part of what makes Paradise Tales an interesting read.  For me, this meant a few stories didn’t quite connect:  I couldn’t quite get into the distancing literary fantasy “The Last Ten Years in the Life of Hero Kai,” for example, and I bounced off the shorter, more experimental SF tales “The Future of Science Fiction” and “Omnisexual.”

But there’s still plenty of wonder, here, starting with the leadoff story, one of a handful of playful, comedic pieces.  “The Film-makers of Mars” is a nostalgically entertaining tale of old, unearthed films that hint at a secret history to Edgar Rice Burroughs’ body of work.  Tonally similar is “No Bad Thing,” a smoothly written and amusing mashup of vampire fiction and hard SF.  There’s also plenty of Ryman’s Mundane SF on display.  “Birth Days” speculates interestingly on the future of reproduction and sexuality.  Then there’s “VAO,” one of the longer pieces, a lively and engaging look at the perils of aging — this one involves computer hacking, mind control, and powerful mechanical exoskeletons.  “Warmth” is a charming, well executed story about child-rearing robots and how they impact their charges.

The collection’s latter stages provide some of the longer, stronger pieces in my view.  These include “You,” a fascinating and complex story of immersive, virtual “lifeblogs,” which spins in and out of viewpoints and across time periods; “Pol Pot’s Beautiful Daughter,” a haunting and evocative contemporary fantasy about the fictional offspring of the notorious Cambodian dictator; “Blocked,” a beautifully melancholic future story about refugees seeking shelter from an imminent alien invasion, a story which strikes me perhaps as a crystallization of the Mundane SF debate; and my favorite, “Days of Wonder,” a novella of the far future about human-animal hybrids bioengineered to survive in the wild, but who still hold the keys to their more technological, civilized past.

All told, a strong, unique, and admirably fearless collection of genre stories — not always immediately accessible, but always thought-provoking.