The Dark Crystal (1982) and Labyrinth (1986)

Some of the greatest fantasy movies in recent memory have come from the incomparable, unbeatable, and sadly never to be repeated collaborations of Jim Henson and Brian Froud. Take the magical madness of Henson’s muppets and the bizarre mythic imagery of Froud’s faeries, throw in some special effects and superb actors, and you get two of the best-loved fantasy movies of the 1980s, Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal.

The Dark Crystal is the earlier collaboration and by far the more ambitious, taking place entirely in a fantasy world created from scratch, and featuring nothing but puppeted characters and special effects. Not a human is to be seen, save for some of the long shots; for the rest, the characters are all puppets, along the same lines as Jim Henson’s muppets. It’s a fairly basic quest story. You know the sort: young character, quite probably the last of his kind, is sent on a desperate quest to save the world, overcome odds, find true love, meet unusual characters along the way, prevail through strength of heart and good looks. That’s not important. What is important is what Henson and Froud and company do with the story in the meantime.

Jen is the last of his kind, one of the fragile, elf-like Gelflings, taken in after his clan was wiped out by the evil Skeksis, and raised by the wise, noble Mystics. He’s been raised in peace and harmony, one with nature, studying under the wisest of the Mystics (who look vaguely like multi-armed turtles after a few too many centuries in the sun). Now, though, the time has come for change. His master lies dying, a thousand years of life finally catching up to him. With his dying words, he urges Jen to go forth into the world, to seek the crystal shard, and to fulfill an ancient prophecy. Baffled, poor Jen indeeds goes forth, and therein lies the tale.

For the Skeksis and Mystics are opposites, and the Skeksis, who rule the castle and take advantage of the Dark Crystal’s power to extend their lifespan and rule their world, have no interest in seeing Jen fulfill his quest. Hey, they wiped out the Gelflings to prevent the prophecy, as we’re informed in the beginning by Joseph O’Conor’s noble, resonant narration (we’re talking James Earl Jones quality for ‘this is the voice of God, and when he speaks, you listen and listen good!’).

As the story progresses, Jen journies through a newly dangerous world, passing beyond the boundaries of the valley in which he was safe. He encounters the cantankerous Aughra, who studies the heavens and knows of the rapidly-approaching Great Conjunction, the time when the three suns will become one, and Jen must heal the Dark Crystal… or let the Skeksis rule the world forever. He wins the crystal shard, and escapes only steps ahead of the Skeksis’ terrifying beetle-like servants, the Garthim.

One renegade scheming Skeksis chamberlain, one female Gelfling raised by the peaceful Podlings, and one yappy toothy ball of fur called Fizzgig later, everything Jen ever thought he knew is in a severe upset. And as the Mystics march towards the inexorable end of all that is, and as the Skeksis come ever closer to eradicating the Gelflings and all threats to their rule, and as Fizzgig tries to bite anything that moves, and as the suns overhead move into place, Jen will be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice, and to heal the Crystal once and for all. If he fails… well, the Skeksis consider Essence of Gelfling to be a true delicacy.

This is a gorgeous, wonderful movie, made all the more exciting when you look at what the creators accomplished in 1982, compared to today’s standards. The characters move realistically, with a full freedom of motion. The puppeteer aspects are barely noticable. The Gelflings are elven and delicate, the Skeksis twisted and buzzardlike (part predatory bird, part reptile, part dragon), the Mystics ponderous and wise, the Garthim skittery and metallic, and Fizzgig – I want a fizzgig for my very own! Truly, these are classic Froud designs. The landstriders manage to combine the best aspects of camels, giraffes, and god knows what else, for a truly unique feel. There’s nothing on this world that belongs on Earth, giving it that alien, fantastic atmosphere.

I’ve always loved this movie. Henson and Froud combine the best aspects of their respective crafts, along with a wonderfully gifted array of voice actors (such as Percy Edwards for Fizzgig, Stephen Garlick for Jen, Lisa Maxwell for Kira, and Billie Whitelaw for Aughra), and a host of puppeteers and designers, to create something truly special. Now that CGI has become common, and animation has all but replaced humans, it’s easy to look back and scoff at the sometimes awkward puppet effects used in The Dark Crystal, but that’s missing the point. The point is, it was done without animation, without live action, and it came out as a classic. As an added bonus, the video release comes with a documentary about the making of the movie, featuring interviews with various people involved, such as Jim Henson and Brian and Wendy Froud themselves. It’s a great look at how the creators turned images into puppets, and puppets into a movie, and how it took them five years to create a single brilliant film.

There are two movies which forever ingrained Brian Froud’s conceptual genius in my young consciousness, with The Dark Crystal being the first. The second, of course, is the ever-popular Labyrinth, which has become a cult hit over the years, due in no small part to the talented Jennifer Connelly as Sarah, and the unique style of David Bowie as Jareth, the Goblin King. Released in 1986, it forever changed the way many of us looked at the world of Faerie.

This is a coming-of-age story in the same way that The Dark Crystal was a quest story. Sarah, a teenager who prefers to live in a fantasy world called Labyrinth, a world with scripted lines she knows by heart, is sick and tired of being taken for granted by her family, especially where babysitting her baby brother Toby (played by Brian Froud’s son, Toby Froud) is concerned. When she makes a hasty wish upon the power of the goblins, she’s stunned to realize wishes can come true, and they’re not always fair. Jareth, Goblin King and tempter extraordinaire, takes Toby away to the dangerous, seductive, unpredictable world of imagination. In order to fix her mistake, Sarah will be subjected to challenges like none she’s ever experienced. She must travel through, and solve the mysteries of the Labyrinth.

Her enemies: Jareth himself, the goblins he commands, the treacherous nature of the Labyrinth, and time itself with only thirteen hours left before Toby belongs to the Goblin King forever.

Her allies: The unreliable goblin, Hoggle, the diminuative yet noble Sir Didymus (a fox with an attitude) and his sheepdog steed, Ambrosius, and the giant beast with a good heart, Ludo.

Her perils: The goblin armies, the head-juggling Fireys, the riddling door knockers, the mechanical malevolence of the Cleaners, the Bog of Eternal Stench, the illusions cast by the Goblin King, the Junkyard of Lost Treasures.

What’s a girl to do, when the entire world seems to be against her, the rules change midstream, and a cry of “that’s not fair!” gets her no sympathy at all? Why, muddle through, play the game, and grow up along the way. By the time Sarah’s beaten the Labyrinth and come to challenge the Goblin King in the Escheresque twists of his own castle, she’ll have made the hardest decisions of her young life. And no one can do it but her. Not Hoggle, not Ludo, not Didymus. Just Sarah. Jareth will offer her the world, and a world of dreams, and the dream of a world, and all she has to do, in exchange for everything she could ever want, is surrender to his power…. it’s such an easy thing to do. What will she do?

This is such a lovely, fun movie. David Bowie is in his element as the wicked glam-rock King of the Goblins, alternately tempting and terrifying, and even breaking into song. (You ain’t seen anything until you’ve seen him and a few dozen goblins in a rousing rendition of ‘Jump, Baby Jump’.) Jennifer Connelly is dazzling and adorable as Sarah, a teenager placed in the most awkward situations of her life. Toby Froud is… er… cute. (He’s a toddler, whaddya expect?)

Where the movie shines, though, is once again in the magical designs of Brian Froud, and the bizarre genius of Jim Henson. They weave a world of treacherous fairy tale beauty, and populate it with uniquely engaging creatures. They defy description, ranging from the noble, Quixotic fox-knight Didymus, to the twisted inhabitants of the Labyrinth, from the shaggy Ludo to the crochety Hoggle. The Labyrinth is a place just beyond our world, but as strange as any dream, something that wouldn’t be out of place in an Emma Bull or Charles de Lint story. The goblins possess as much personality as any human, and twice as much expression.

Labyrinth is a story about growing up, about responsibility, about imagination and a place for childhood things. It’s about magic and dreams, and about making those hard choices in the end. It’s about “it’s not fair” and “You have no power over me” and the nature of stories reflecting reality. It’s one of those fantasy films that so perfectly fits a niche that it’s become a legend in its own right. As a bonus, the tape release has an added behind-the-scenes documentary.

Lightning may not strike twice in the same place, but magic certainly has, where Henson and Froud are concerned. They gave us two perfect movies together. Those, along with Jim Henson’s The Storyteller TV series, are some of the best fantasy work you’ll see on either big or little screen. I can’t recommend The Dark Crystal or Labyrinth enough. Whether you go for the tape, or DVD, you’ll find that these films are classics for a reason.

Clatterbone, With A Twisted Grin (Clatterbone, 2001)

Once upon a time, there was a band called Rook, and they put out exactly one brilliantly enjoyable album before doing what so many bands do, splitting up and vanishing back into the ether. Little did we imagine that they weren’t dead yet, they were just taking a wee break to reinvent themselves, and come back stronger than before. Thus was born Clatterbone. The only holdovers from the Rook era are Shane Scot (guitars, banjo and vocals) and Tim McCarthy (bagpipes and whistles), who were also the original cofounders for Rook. Newcomers include Tara Hovel (bass and vocals) and Mark D. West (percussion and vocals). (As a note, while Shane, Scot and Tara are listed on the band’s Web site, Mark isn’t, which means he may have gone his own way after this album).

Ambitious and multi-talented? Yes. Their Web site claims they mix Celtic, rock, Gypsy, folk, metal, ska and swing. Shane Scot is also part of a “heavy world rock” group called Delirium Fix, a psycho-billy surf-Ska group named The Diablotones, and Trigger Happy Campers, which fuses rock and soul. Tara comes to the group from Texas by way of New Zealand, and is also a member of the Trigger Happy Campers. Tim is also a part of Delirium Fix. Between the three, they seem capable of playing any instrument necessary, and contributing any style desired. I have to admit, I was of mixed feelings regarding Clatterbone and their debut album, With A Twisted Grin. After all, I really loved Rook’s C’mon and if something ain’t broke, why mess with it, right? How could they improve upon their current state of ass kicking Celtic music? I’m pleased to say that Clatterbone has nothing to worry about. They still kick ass from all directions. The drums are loud, the bagpipes strong, and the vocals rip through the room like a buzz saw. The songs are a mixture of traditional and original, with the majority of the original compositions coming from Scot, and another from McCarthy, starting with a Celtic influence and taking a sharp right turn into Clatterboneland, a place where electric guitar tears down the walls alongside bagpipes, and the cries of cats echo in the background of another song. It’s a place where vocals come through saucy and arrogant, drunken, defiant, angelic, demonic, whimsical, and always having as much fun as possible.

For With A Twisted Grin, Clatterbone brought a few friends in, such as Suzanne Wolf (bagpipes and whistles), “Harmonica “Bob Miner (harmonica, of course), and the BBQ Choir (general merriment). Would that we all had such good friends. Clatterbone manages to dance its way along the spectrum of songs. There’s the fabulously traditional “Wild Rover,” the entirely rambunctious drinking song, “Whiskey Watered Down,” the sweeping and powerful ballad of “The Dreadnaught,” the rollicking and enjoyable “Gypsy Set,” and the entirely original “The Train.” Their songs embrace the unholy caterwauling of the bagpipes and turn them into welcome parts of a grander melody, making them about as cool as bagpipes ever are. (I admit that under normal circumstances, I find the only difference between bagpipes and fighting cats being bagpipes don’t need their litter box changed…)

How can I put this? I burned out on Celtic a long time ago. If you want me to like Celtic, you’d better doctor it to make it palatable. Like putting whiskey in medicine. Going by that theory, Clatterbone makes Celtic into a steak dinner. They’re Faster, Harder, Louder, Stronger. Utterly shameless, completely unrepentant, and stand back while they cut loose. For every mellow song like “Chubby’s Troubles,” there’s something like “The MacGregors” to bring the energy levels back up, or “Follow Me Up To Carlow” to rattle the walls with its strength. The only reason I can’t describe the songs in more detail is because sometimes, music just needs to be listened to. Clatterbone is Celtic on the edge, mixing rock and traditional in a wild, boisterous manner. They take the old, and give it a new spin, resulting in an album that I’m pleased to recommend. Check out With A Twisted Grin if you like whiskey in your coffee, or electric guitar with your bagpipes.

The Complete Big Books of… Review

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Waifs & Strays, by Charles de Lint (Viking 2002)

When I read Charles de Lint, I don’t just pay attention to the words. I slow down and listen to the rhythms the words make. I look for the underlying patterns of color and music that so thoroughly insinuate themselves throughout each new story or book. I go back again and again, watching as connections are formed between characters, as continuing themes run rampant from one book to another.

A Charles de Lint story is a multimedia affair, created and worked on so many levels, it’s easy to miss something on a first, second, even third reading. With some of his stories, I’m still discovering something new after a dozen visits. I’m terribly jealous of him. His works both inspire and intimidate me. I come away with the undeniable urge to write, and yet the sinking comprehension that it would take me years of practice and millions of words, before I came close to capturing what he does. But I try.

His works cover the spectrum from high fantasy to urban fantasy (or mythic fiction), detouring into romance, daytripping into mystery, dropping by poetry, visiting the relatives over in psychological thriller, and even sending Christmas cards to the folks back home in classic myth and folktales.

He doesn’t whitewash the truth, or hide from the ugliness of the world. He confronts it head-on. Open a de Lint story, and you’re as likely to find the pimps and murderers and abused children as you are to find the cop with the heart of gold, the selfless social worker, or the irrepressible artist. His ‘happily ever afters’ are balanced out by the broken love stories, where people suffer real-world hurts and losses just like we do.

The magic in his world is good and bad, capricious and whimsical. Like fire, it can warm; get too close and it burns, at its worst consuming the unwary. De Lint’s characters are real, with the same flaws as the rest of us, and believable problems. They struggle with doubt and belief, have to pay the bills and make ends meet, and for the most part, they’re grounded in the same world we are, but for that one small difference: in their world, magic happens in more overt ways.

While we’ve seen a number of de Lint’s stories collected before, such as in the three Newford anthologies (Dreams Underfoot, Moonlight and Vines, and The Ivory and the Horn and his chapbooks (Triskell Tales), Waifs and Strays is the first to collect stories from across the spectrum. In it, we’re treated to stories set in Newford, Ottawa, Bordertown and Tamson House, as well as traditional fantasy, and futuristic fantasy with a science fiction twist. Of these sixteen stories, one is original to this collection; the rest have appeared in other collections, assorted magazines and chapbooks, even a convention program book. All that they have in common is that the protagonists are young adults or children.

Waifs and Strays refers to several things in the course of the book. Not only are these short stories compared to waifs and strays, short stories with a naturally short lifespan, collected from a wide variety of appearances, but they also evoke the spirit of the characters themselves. Some lost, some abandoned, some making their way in the world, some having their first — or last — brush with magic, all dealing with very real issues of life, love, abandonment, and a search for something better.

The stories have helpfully been sorted out into categories based on setting. Thus, the first story is “Merlin Dreams in the Mondream Wood,” which originally appeared in Pulphouse, before being incorporated into one of the Tamson House novels.

Moving to a more general setting of Ottawa and the surrounding valley, we’re introduced to five stories, including the aforementioned original story. Both “There’s No Such Thing” and “Sisters” deal with a subject rare to de Lint’s works, vampires, and his particular twist on the genre. Appoline “Apples” Smith is your average sixteen-year-old going on nineteen, who’ll do anything to protect her little sister, Cassandra, from the dangers of the world, be it child molesters, or nature’s own ravages (Cassie suffers from a deformed leg, and acute asthma). But when the baby-sitter turns out to be worse than any supernatural predator, what can she do? And when someone related to one of Apples’ past problems comes back to haunt her, where will she turn to for help? Either way, the two sisters have some hard choices to make about life, death, and the grey areas in between.

“Fairy Dust” is a poignant story of loss and regret. What happens when you trap a fairy, and it can’t stand to be imprisoned? How do you make amends?

“A Wish Named Arnold” is a clever twist on the old matter of making wishes, and of granting them. When Marguerite meets a wish named Arnold, she hangs on to it, wanting a friend more than a wish. But sooner or later, we all have to let go, right? If you love something, set it free, so it can move on or not, as it wishes. But is a wish ever truly free?

“Wooden Bones” tells of Liz, a city girl sent to live with her relatives in the country for a while. She most definitely doesn’t fit in, or feel like part of them. But that may change when she meets a rabbit-headed musician.

The next section contains two stories, and is appropriate entitled “Otherworlds: Past and Future.” The first of these stories, “The Graceless Child,” is inspired by Shetland folklore, with a bit of Scandinavian myth mixed in for good measure. Tetchie is a half-breed, her mother human and her father one of the deadly trows. Her father died, turned to stone by the sunlight without ever knowing he had a child. Her mother died some time back, leaving the poor girl to make her own way in a society that hates and fears and mocks her. Desperate for family or friends, she makes a dangerous, unwise bargain with a tattooed man in the woods who turns out to be much more than she ever expected. Before the night is through, she’ll deal with the lords of Dream and Nightmares, learn the power of blood, meet her father for the first and last time, and make a fateful decision that will shape her life. Both sad and hopeful, it’s a touching story of a child’s need and an adult’s courage.

“A Tattoo On Her Heart” is set in roughly the same sort of setting as de Lint’s other science fiction offering, Svaha(/svaha.html), though in a different city if indeed that world. It’s an odd story of totems and sacrifices.

Next, we move on to Bordertown, where de Lint shares two stories. The first is a long one, entitled “Stick.” Though the title character is older and wiser, the girl he rescues from trouble certainly is not. And Amanda Woodsdatter will certainly shake up his life before all is said and done. “May This Be Your Last Sorrow” appeared in the most recent Bordertown collection, The Essential Bordertown.(/bordertown.html) It’s a short, introspective piece about a girl who could never live up to the expectations of her famous, talented parents, and the unresponsive gargoyle who is her only confidante. In just a few pages, de Lint captures the essence of a lonely life.

Finally, we end up in Newford itself, where a vast amount of de Lint’s output over the past decade and more has been set. A full six stories represent this mythical North American city.

In “One Chance,” several unhappy children have a chance to leave behind the world they dislike and travel to a much better place, heralded by the appearance of a strange wolfman. Though this doesn’t actually take place in Newford, it features a character who does, eventually, move to that city. This isn’t uncommon in de Lint’s works. You never know when someone will decide to move and show up where they’re not expected. After all, Cerin and Meran Kelledy, protagonists of at least one traditional fantasy book and numerous short stories, appeared in Newford one day and still haven’t explained how or why.

“Alone” has Susanna, not much happier than before but satisfied with her family, in a new school in a new city. When she meets a young man with a dangerous secret, she’ll be in a position to help or destroy him. What matters in the end will be if anyone cares. Sometimes, all we need in the world is one person to care about us.

“But For The Grace Go I” is one of several stories to feature independent Maisie Flood, who moved onto the streets when she was twelve, and forged her own destiny despite the many dangers. Now older and wiser, she’s responsible for a pack of neurotic dogs and a mentally deficient man twice her age named Tommy. They live in a squat, and make ends meet, barely. But who will the stubborn Maisie turn to when an ominous letter turns up in her Post Office box, and how will it change the way she approaches her life?

“Ghosts of Wind and Shadow” features the aforementioned Kelledys, who’ve found a niche as musicians and teachers in Newford. When one of their promising students gets in trouble for believing in fairies, her mother comes to enlist Meran’s help in bringing Lesli Batterberry back to the straight and narrow. But Lesli has other ideas, which start with running away. It’s up to Meran and her husband Cerin to enlist some help and rescue Lesli from a horrible fate on the streets. However, Lesli isn’t entirely helpless or ready to give up either. The true question is, will Lesli’s mother be able to cope with the events, and the fact that magic exists?

“Waifs and Strays,” which lends its name to the title of the collection, is another story about Maisie Flood. She’s moved up in the world to a real apartment, a real job, and night classes, thanks to the encouragement of the Grasso Street Angel, all in an effort to better provide for Tommy and the dogs. But the strain is wearing her down and tearing her apart. When the ghost of her mentor shows up, Maisie must be going insane, right? Or is this a sign to rethink her choices and find a better way of doing things? Maisie’s never been one to take advice willingly, or admit when she needs help, but if she doesn’t, it may destroy her.

“Somewhere In My Mind There Is A Painting Box” is the rather long title for a short story featuring young Lily, also a protagonist in the forthcoming Seven Wild Sisters, as well as A Circle of Cats. This is an extended version of a story also appearing in the Terri Windling and Ellen Datlow anthology, The Green Man — Tales from the Mythic Forest. Lily has a talent for art, and an affinity with nature. But one day she discovers a lost painting box that belongs to a painter who disappeared over twenty years ago. When said painter’s also-missing companion turns up, not a day older, Lily has to wonder if the stories of people vanishing into Faerie are true. And if so, how might she get there?

This collection also features a preface by longtime de Lint editor and noted artist, anthologist, and folklorist in her own right, Terri Windling. In it, she explains why these stories are magical, drawing upon comparisons between de Lint and the great Trickster himself. It’s an intelligent, easily approached essay that really does boil down the appeal and the magic. De Lint, like the Trickster, crosses boundaries and takes us with him. He celebrates the creative process by embracing both sides of the coin: family and community vs poverty, illness, fear, despair, and more. His stories focus on the outsiders of society, all of whom have been touched and changed by Mystery.

De Lint’s own introduction to the book explains why he loves short stories, including the fact that you can take a chance with them. Make the wrong choice, you’ve only lost a few weeks. You can’t afford to be that risky with a novel. Short stories are perfect to experiment with expression and themes, though the downside is the short lifespan. Unless, of course, they’re collected like they are here. He finishes by hoping that his stories will inspire others to pursue their own creative processes, not least so he himself will have more to read. I think we can all applaud that sentiment. Mr. de Lint, you had me at hello. He goes on to give each story and section in the book introductions, explaining where they came from, or why they in particular were chosen for this collection. The origins of stories are often just as fascinating as the tales themselves.

One can hardly finish talking about Waifs and Strays without noting that the cover is absolutely gorgeous. Done by the same man who did the cover art for The Onion Girl, John Jude Palencar, it bears that same mythic, dreamy quality. That same girl who’s sitting in the tree for The Onion Girl has moved on to stand, impossibly, in the thinnest branches of a much smaller tree, where she’s playing the pipe. If it’s not the same character, it’s one very close. I suspect there’s a series in progress, and I look forward to seeing where it leads.

How can I describe this book? Brilliant seems overdone, and magnificent an understatement. It’s absolutely representative of de Lint’s finest works, a sampler of the worlds he’s created or borrowed, bringing in some of his finest, best-loved, best-remembered characters. In his stories, you’ll find worlds within worlds, and magic around every corner. This is the sort of collection which will assure you that while yes, the world’s not always nice or fair or pretty, it’s seldom unchangeable if you hold true to your heart and don’t give up. The characters making the difference, learning the lesson, growing and changing and living, are all children and young adults. The grown-ups don’t come in and wave a hand to save the day. No, these children make all the hard choices, and live with them. Tetchie chooses between safety and what she knows to be right. Maisie will do anything to live up to her responsibilities, even if it destroys her own peace of mind. Susanna refuses to take the easy way out when life gets rough. Lesli stands her ground when all is bleak, rather than wait passively for a rescue. Apples and Cassie both weigh the options, and do what their hearts tell them is right for each other. Marguerite overcomes selfishness to help a friend. These are inspiring examples, and ones that stem from the real world. The magic that appears in every story isn’t always overt and recognizable; sometimes it’s the magic of the heart or the creative spirit.

I recommend Waifs and Strays without reservation. Perhaps I’m predisposed towards liking de Lint’s works; after all, I’ve seen many of the stories before and enjoyed them then. But there’s enough here to win over any new reader. For those who like Harry Potter, these are the grown-up, more complex, more realistic, cooler siblings, the ones without the safety net of Hogwarts or the cackling villainy of Valdemort. This is a book no de Lint fan will want to miss, as undoubtedly there’s something new in it for everyone.

A Wizard Alone, by Diane Duane (Harcourt, 2002)

Years ago, long before Harry Potter was even a blip on the radar screen, I discovered the fascinating world of Diane Duane’s Young Wizards series, which began with So You Want To Be A Wizard, and continued with Deep Wizardry, High Wizardry, and later, A Wizard Abroad. The short version: Kit Rodriguez and Nita Callahan, as well as Nita’s younger sister Dairine, are all wizards, charged with protecting the world from the Lone Power, AKA Death. They use a scientifically-designed form of magic to keep the universe running smoothly and defeat the Lone Power whenever it rears its ugly head. They’re merely small cogs in a much larger system involving wizards all over creation, but every single person is vital in his or her own way. To date, they’ve gone through a number of challenges, the most hard-hitting of which was when Nita failed to prevent her mother’s death. Now, though, Kit’s been thrust into an all-new predicament.

While Nita and Dairine are essentially on suspended duty, recovering from the emotional trauma of their mother’s death, Kit is pressed into service to examine a highly unusual situation; while most wizards undergo their initial Ordeal in a matter of days, Darryl McAllister has been on Ordeal for three months and counting. What’s going on? How can anyone remain in Ordeal that long? Normally, you resolve it … or you die. The Lone Power doesn’t mess around. So Kit, and his faithful dog Ponch (a dog with the uncanny ability to find anything and create mini-universes before breakfast) set off for some answers. What they learn turns everything on its ear: Darryl is autistic. And that is just the beginning, as Kit and Ponch are drawn across different realities, trying to unlock the secrets of Darryl’s mind, and free him from the traps of the Lone Power. Can they do it, or will a young wizard be sacrificed for the good of all before he’s ever actually done any good? Nita could help … if she wasn’t an emotional wreck. Kit’s pretty much on his own, which isn’t good, since he’s used to working with a partner.

A Wizard Alone is the second book in the series to come out within the past few years, after an eight year break. We can undoubtedly attribute at least some of this newfound popularity to the Harry Potter books, filling the need for young wizards and magical adventure. Myself, I’m just glad to see Kit and Nita back.

Mostly.

As I’ve stated in previous reviews, I love this series but it does have its flaws. Maybe it’s just that I’m aging a lot faster than the characters, but it’s hard to see much progress in Kit and Nita since the beginning. A bit more experienced, a bit more wary, and a bit more emotionally drained, but still, they haven’t made a whole lot of progress. I think it’s just me wondering when they’re going to visibly grow up. It’s not a good thing when the protagonist’s dog and his quarreling appliances are more interesting than he is. (Yes, Kit’s DVD player and remote control hate each other. And the TV has taken to getting channels from other galaxies. Such is life with a wizard.)

Don’t get me wrong. I loved this book. I always look forward to this series. And having the Callahans and the Rodriguezes both fully aware of the magic present in their lives, and watching Kit’s family cope and deal, is a breath of fresh air from too many “secret identity” stories I’ve run into over the years. Pleasantly baffled, but made believers through undeniable proof, Kit’s parents cheerfully make sure Kit eats enough before he goes strolling through someone’s head or pops off to the Moon for a picnic. And watching Kit struggle with one problem while Nita goes through her own recovery is an emotionally satisfying story. Ultimately, I will recommend this book, as I have the rest of the series. It’s thought-provoking, intriguing, and its exploration of an autistic mind makes for some interesting storytelling. And for those who continue to wonder where the next Harry Potter book is, this may at least take the edge off for a while.

Sylvia Tosun, Anthem (Sylvia Tosun, 2002)

Following her initial smash debut, Too Close To The Sun, New York based musician Sylvia Tosun returns with a truly exceptional album. Entitled Anthem: National Anthems of Our World, Volume 1, it’s a very simple concept. Take the national anthems of ten different countries, and remix them in her own unique style.

How better to spotlight someone whose true talent lies in her vocal range and the power of her singing, then to perform national anthems, songs meant to be sung and heard? As the liners notes say, “Anthem: A song or hymn of praise, devotion to a cause, a sacred vocal composition with words usually from the scriptures. A song of celebration.” Add to that, songs of defiance, pride, strength, national determination, and energy. National anthems are part of the very spirit and definition of a country, and in this collection, Tosun shows us exactly what sort of power they can hold.

I was floored by the very first song. Tosun’s rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner is haunting, as she casts her voice to the wind and gives us the sort of passionate energy that the song deserves. Backed by Allison Cornell (violin), Robin Macantangay (electric guitar) and Julie Flanders (who provides a ghostly spoken word accompaniment in the background), Tosun captures the spirit of the song.

Each of the other anthems is performed in their native language, and I’m not the polyglot I wish I was, but Tosun pulls it off like a native for each other country. In succession, she performs the anthems of Israel, Great Britain (with a God Save The Queen/ My Country Tis’ of Thee medley), France, Russia, Canada, Germany, Italy, Australia, and Japan. Also, she throws in a hypnotically compelling trance remix of the Israel anthem, and an electronica remix of the Great Britain medley.

Tosun’s voice soars and dives like an elegant bird, capturing every note with beauty and precision. I’ve never heard some of the songs collected here, or if I had, I’ve certainly never heard them performed like this. While her voice is the true power and guiding force behind each song, she has an extremely capable group backing her up, adding in everything from piano and clarinet to percussion and electric guitar. As well, she moves the songs into the 21st Century with her trance and electronica remixes, which dizzy the senses and breathe new life into old songs.

I’m sorry that lyrics weren’t included in the liner notes, for it would be interesting to see how the songs compare to the source material. But that’s a minor quibble compared to such an impressive album. I wasn’t dissatisfied with a single song; in fact, I’ve had it on constant replay for some days now as good background writing music. I didn’t think it would be easy to top her first album, and I’m pleased to say that she didn’t even try to improve on it. She did something so completely different and audacious that it’ll stand on its own no matter what. She’s taken her music to a whole new level, and us with it. I highly recommend this album, and I’m really hoping that the “Volume 1″ in the title means we’ll be seeing follow-up projects in the same manner.

Her official bio states that she learned these various anthems while serving an unprecedented two year term as “Miss USO in her teens, prior to a scholarship at Juilliard.” She has also performed with the popular operatic rock group, Trans-Siberian Orchestra, and collaborated with Julie Flanders and Emil Adler of the October Project.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Caress of Twilight, by Laurell K. Hamilton (Ballantine, 2002)

In A Caress of Twilight, the second in the spellbinding new series starring Merry Gentry, Laurell K. Hamilton once again entwines the dangerous seduction of the supernatural with the earthy pleasures of the body, creating a new kind of erotic urban fantasy.

For a while, she was perfectly happy to be Merry Gentry, part-Sidhe private detective working for the Gray Detective Agency in Los Angeles. That was before her family came looking for her, and her true identity was revealed to the world. Princess Meredith NicEssus, heir to the Unseelie Court, Princess of Flesh, American royalty if any existed. Now Merry has to juggle the discomforting attentions of fame and the political machinations of her own kind. It’s not enough to ignore them and hope they’ll all go away, preferably starting with dear Aunt Andais, Queen of the Unseelie; they’ve drug her back into their world kicking and screaming. Andais has declared that either Merry or her insane cousin Cel will inherit the throne, but contigent upon who has a child first. Merry knows for a fact that she’s dead should Cel take the throne; her only chance is to get pregnant first. Luckily, Andais is all in favor of such an endeavor. To that end, she’s loaned Merry a few of her guards.

Now Merry has to handle a real life and occupation in the daytime, while at night she partakes of the pleasures of the Sidhe. Doyle, Frost, Nicca, Rhys, and Galen. All Sidhe, all warriors, all people she trusts and could grow to love. But only one will be the father of her child. Only one will become her husband and King should she take the throne. And Merry has to choose between love, duty, and power, never knowing when the game will be over.

All the while, she has to gather strength, make alliances, and marshall her resources, for whether she becomes Queen or not, she’ll need powerful allies by her side. She’s already secured the temporary loyalty of the goblins, but must struggle to keep them. She must bargain with the capriciously deadly demi-Fae for loyalty and for the cure to a curse plaguing one of her companions. She has to tread carefully amongst the Unseelie, for a single misstep could ruin everything.

As if that weren’t enough, an exiled member of the Seelie Court seeks her help, and the King of the Seelie has set his sights upon Merry for unknown reasons. Worse still, ancient and devastating magics have been let loose, leaving dozens and hundreds of corpses in their wake. Merry certainly has her hands full, anyway you look at it, and the worst is yet to come…

A Caress of Twilight is dark and rich, as beguiling as a Sidhe glamour and as intoxicating as a poppy field. Blood and sex, desire and pain, need and fulfillment, lusts and loyalty all come together in a decidedly risque tapestry. This is not a fairy tale for the faint of heart, prudish of morals, or innocent of soul. There are those who might say it focuses a little too much upon the physical, sexual aspects, but Hamilton does an excellent job of weaving them into the storyline, making them integral to the plot, development, and very atmosphere. In the world she’s set forth, passion is power, and blood is potent.

If I had any complaints about the book, it would be that the climatic scene at the end seems to arrive rather quickly for the buildup it’s gotten throughout the course of the story, and seems to be resolved just as quickly. Though it’s an intense scene, multi-layered and complex, it seems to be over rather swiftly, with a rather diminished sense of wrapping up loose ends, while leaving plenty of room for the inevitable sequel. While it could be read as a stand-alone, it’s obviously part of a series, and meant to be treated as such. I’m looking forward to the next book, just to see how things progress from the status quo the author’s set up. There’s a lot left to be resolved, and questions to be answered. That aside, this was a book worth staying up late to finish.

Archive Introduction

A brief note on how I’ve set up my reviews archive:

The tags represent where a review ran the first time around, whether online, or in print. This includes defunct magazines such as Absolute Magnitude, Science Fiction Chronicle, and Realms of Fantasy.  All reviews that appeared in those magazines can now be found here, with the exception of a very few that were lost along the way. Reviews originally posted at The Green Man Review (and its sister site, The Sleeping Hedgehog), SF Site, and Tor.com remain on those sites indefinitely.  They are uploaded here at irregular intervals after their original publication, and are reprinted for my archives with all due credit and permission.

The categories, obviously, represent where a particular item falls into the grand scheme of things. This is pretty obvious, but a few things bear a little further explanation. Historical means that the book is set in the past of a world either meant to be ours, or pretty darned close. I’ve applied the Fairy Tales/Folklore/Mythology label to anything which I feel takes inspiration or influence from those themes, and as such, this is both a specific and nebulous category, applied at my whim and discretion. The Zombies, Shapeshifters, Vampires and Superheroes are in place simply because it amuses me to do so. Lastly, I’ve also marked some books as being of greater than usual interest because of LGBTQ themes – featuring a gay or lesbian character, for instance, or dealing with gender issues, or addressing matters of alternate sexuality. In all cases, this is a work in progress, to be fine-tuned and adjusted until I’m satisfied…whenever that might be. More categories may appear, some may vanish. I welcome feedback, suggestions, and comments, especially if you feel a certain book deserves (or doesn’t!) a specific, existing, category that I’ve overlooked.

Enjoy.