Gobblin.net

China Miéville is one of those writers, like Neil Gaiman, whose can string together words like an Istari wields magic — that is, with the skill of a demigod. I’ve only seen the smooth-headed scribe once, at Comic-con five or six years ago, before he had become a fantasy fiction sex symbol, and when this fresh-faced brit handed me a free copy of Perdido Street Station , I almost wrote it off as another piece of unsolicited swag to toss in the bin back at the hotel. Thank goodness I didn’t follow that impulse, as that novel was a revelation! Very good stuff for fans of weird and urban fantasy (albeit decidedly more mature than Labyrinth).

Anyway, today sees the release of his newest book – The City & The City (which is my next Kindle download, unless I can score a library copy –didn’t plan ahead…). Timed with this release, Mieville discusses the crime novel genre at John Scalzi’s Whatever blog. It’s absolutely a must read for fans of mystery and fantasy or anyone who likes hearing brilliant writers talk about their craft. Here’s an exerpt:

…detective novels are not novels of detection, still less of revelation, still less of solution. Those are all necessary, but not only are they insufficient, but they are in certain ways regrettable. These are novels of potentiality. Quantum narratives. Their power isn’t in their final acts, but in the profusion of superpositions before them, the could-bes, what-ifs and never-knows. Until that final chapter, each of those is as real and true as all the others, jostling realities all dreamed up by the crime, none trapped in vulgar facticity. That’s why the most important sentence in a murder mystery isn’t the one starting ‘The murderer is…’ – which no matter how necessary and fabulously executed is an act of unspeakable narrative winnowing – but is the snarled expostulation halfway through: ‘Everyone’s a suspect.’ Quite. When all those suspects become one certainty, it’s a collapse, and a let-down. How can it not be? We’ve been banished from an Eden of oscillation.

Oh, you Brit writers of the fantastic with your haunting eyes, fancy jewelry and abilty to sum up genres in a perfect paragraph.

On the great new manga news/reviews blog, the Manga Critic, Kate Dacey brings up the old “OEL” (Original English Language) manga authenticity debate. Oftentimes this discussion turns into one of irritation, if not condemnation, towards anyone who applys the word “manga” towards a non-Japanese comic (not this article — Kate’s a classy lady). I don’t get the vitriol, but I do get the frustration in regards to classification and filing. Anyway, I really don’t want to get sucked into this debate again, but one of the quotes that Dacey includes perpetuates a misconception that I want to clear up:

“OEL Manga is a marketing term. Tokyopop made it up to sell their originally written comics just so they wouldn’t be put with the regular comics.”

As someone who was in the trenches at the start of this trend, as an editor, and later as a writer, I’d like to say once and for all that OEL was most certainly not coined by Tokyopop. Tokyopop just called all of its works “manga.” The company’s line was/is not to have a distinction in classification between books created in Japan, Korea, Europe or the Americas. “OEL” was first coined, if I remember correctly, by the folks on the Anime on DVD manga forums, as many folks didn’t like (and still don’t like) Tokyopop’s blanket usage of the term. The term caught steam online, not because any company wanted to perpetuate it, but because readers (at least those who take the time to discuss it online)want some distinction. In retrospect, Tokyopop sort of shot itself in the foot with the naming debates by building its “OEL” expansion on the success of its “100% Authentic” campaign, thereby implying its own product is “inauthentic.”

Also, Tokyopop was not the first company to apply the word “manga” to a non-Japanese product. What Tokyopop DID do was make manga synonymous with the serialized, 5 x 7.5, B&W, 192 page graphic novel. Ironically, this format and aspect ratio isn’t even used in Japan, but was rather based on Korean manwha trim sizes, which happens to be an ideal compromise between Japan’s two most common tankubon aspect ratios, making a 1-size-fits-all approach possible.

Oh dear… I’ve gone and worked myself up a bit! I know I said I didn’t want to get into this old debate, but there’s one final point I’d like to suggest that those who bring up this discussion be sure to include, and that’s the longform storytelling format. With RARE exception, OEL titles don’t last longer than a couple of volumes, where by and large, the manga titles we know are generally from a handful to several dozen volumes in length. I would argue that the longform, melodramatic stories afforded by serialized fiction are just as much a part of manga’s appeal as anything relating to the art, and thus far, that’s been very hard to reproduce outside of the Japanese system. (Superhero stories are serialized, yes, but they sprawl without the focus of a single authorial voice, like you have with manga). After all, you can’t very well afford to spend 50 pages on a secondary character’s flashback when you’re not even certain you’ll get a volume 2 or 3 to fully resolve your protagonist’s story. As it stands, there is almost zero trust by readers that an OEL series will extend beyond a volume or two (with rare exception, no one’s even trying to make series more than a couple volumes at this point); it’s a shame that we’re stuck with that reality now, as one thing that the Japanese system shows is that most manga take at least a couple of volumes for the creators to find their footing (which I can certainly attest to!). But now we’re not really talking manga at all, but rather the viability of serialized graphic novels as a business model…

All right, that’s enough of that.

So I’ve started reading Drood, the latest master of brooding horror and sometimes sci-fi Dan Simmons. Man, does this book have a good hook. From page 1:

This true story will be about Charles Dickens final five years and about his growing obsession during that time with a man–if man he was–named Drood, as well as with murder, death, corpses, crypts, mesmerism, opium, ghosts, and the streets and alleys of that black-biled lower bowel of London that the writer has always called “my Babylon” or the “Great Oven.”

Murder, mesmerism, black-biled bowels? Those are a few of my very most favorite things! But it gets better:

In this manuscript…I shall answer the question which perhas no one else alive in our time knew–”Did the famous and loveable and honourable Charles Dickens plot to murder an innocent person and dissolve away his flesh in a pit of caustic lime and secretly inter what was left of him, mere bones and a skull, in the crypt of an ancient cathedral…?

It’s a question that has kept me up at nights for years, and now I shall finally find out the truth.

I love this opening! It’s so tantalizing and sleazy. The wholesome Charles Dickens dragged into the sordid spotlight of a penny dreadful (well, a $27 dreadfull–$10 on kindle!) as written by his friend, Wilkie Collins. At almost 800 pages it’s a little thicker than a penny dreadful, but seems a fitting comeuppance for the writer of Bleak House. I can’t wait to see where it goes.

In other news, D.M. Cornish reports that the first draft of Monster Blood Tattoo Vol. 3: Factotum is now complete! Congratulations, sir! Like many others, I look forward to reading it.

That reminds me, I’ve got my own final volume to finish up…

Finally, apparently there’s talks bout a new cinematic take on The Neverending Story. As much as I love the original film, I do think there is room for another take on the classic book. Unlike some fans (and the author), I really don’t care what color Atreyu is. I’d just love to see some of the elements of the second half that didn’t make it into the Brandisiferous sequel brought to life, such as the many colored death and the Acharis.

Time to head down to Wonder-Con, just as a fan this time — no panels. Ta!

So I bought a Kindle 2. It’s currently en route and should be in my hands by Thursday. In the meantime, I’m feeling awfully conflicted about it. On the one hand, it’s definitely a luxury item. I’ve got an amazing library just a few blocks away with more variety than the Kindle offers. Free books I can hold and smell (and taste, should I feel the urge). As a taxpayer and citizen, it’s in my best interests to utilize that service and have my vote counted as a library user. The newspaper, magazine and blog content that can be streamed to the Kindle is also largely free online, where many of those features would also include color, video and comments. It isn’t as if the Kindle is upgrading books in the way that a Playstation 3 is a step up from the Playstation 2. The added convenience seems negligible, at least so far (we’ll see after I’ve had a few months to get used to it).

So why did I order one? I can’t deny that part of me still gets a thrill out of trying new gadgets. I’ve thus far escaped iphone fever, and with no new game consoles on the horizon, it could just be my inner-geek urges acting up. If that’s the only reason though, I’ll have to kick myself. The other explanation, and the one that I hope justifies the purchase, is that for better or worse, digital distribution of books is here to stay, and as someone who wants to make a career of writing, it’s important to stay in the loop. As I plot my next story, I don’t see anything changing just because I’ll have read a book on a Kindle instead of just old-fashioned paper. Or maybe it will. Maybe it will inspire me to develop new storytelling techniques for digital delivery, or at least give me the context to tell the good ideas from the bad when talking to publishers.

In the meantime, I’ve got a stack of those old-fashioned library books to get through. I’m just finishing up a clockwork fantasy called Mainspring by Jay Lake, a fun read. And then there’s the mammoth new Dan Simmons novel, Drood, about Charles Dickens’ final days (at 780 pages, that could take some time).

How ‘bout you guys – anyone out there have a Kindle or other e-reader? Any advice on what scribe’s words I should pop my e-book cherry?

After a detour to the Half-Continent to battle monsters with D.M. Cornish, I returned last week to Crackpot Hall, home to Flora Segunda, her Butler and a pack of red dogs. Flora’s Dare, the second volume of Ysabeau Wilce‘s Flora Segunda books, picks up right where the last volume left off, quickly recapping things with a “how I spent my summer vacation” style recap of volume 1 and moving on to new troubles right away. I enjoyed volume 1 a great deal, but volume 2 was even better. I admire the way that Wilce juggles multiple plotlines, turning what at first seems like a chaotic weave into one that’s perfectly tight, but not overly tidy. Flora is always jumping from frying pan to fire; she’s never quite in control of the situation, but she’s always learning so that next time she’s up against a 10th order stink demon, for example, she’ll definitely have things well in order.

The first volume which takes place on the eve of Flora’s 14th birthday, but now, a few months later, she is decidedly on the path to womanhood. Flora has a flirtation with the mysterious and dangerous Lord Axacaya, a figure in the Jareth mold – dangerous and seductive. She learns to see her family with the greater understanding and sympathy of a nearly-grown-up. Instead of just parroting the truisms of her mentor, Nini-Mo, Flora approaches trouble with caution culled from experience. It’s great character work.

Wilce continues to mingle fantasy and reality in new and unabashedly American ways, a nice change from the ubiquitous psuedo-European settings that dominate the category. (Again, it doesn’t hurt that as Flora dashes from place to place in fictional Califa, I can recognize the routes from their real-life San Francisco inspirations.) I also appreciate how vibrant the world is. In Califa, fashion is every bit as important as power, with men as well as women–especially with men, in the case of Flora’s best friend and dandy-supreme, Udo.

I can’t wait to see where Flora’s adventures take her next.

Leaping Lahzar’s lightning, what a great read! The Monster Blood Tattoo series by D.M. Cornish. Go on, get thee to a library or bookshop and find it now!

What, you’re still here? Okay, fine. I suppose I owe it to you to explain why Cornish’s world of Foundlings and Factotums a must-read fantasy for readers of all ages. (And if you’re one of the many folks who’ve known about them already, why didn’t you tell me?!) Read more…

Lately, whenever I visit the bookstore (got to do it while this endangered species still exists!), I’m struck by how completely fantasy has taken over the Young Adult section. For years I dismissed the YA fantasy boom as at best, a fad, at worst, a shameless attempt to cash in while the holly and phoenix feather wand was hot! Okay, I admit it, I was wrong. Without a doubt, the YA shelves are now the destination for fantasy fans of all ages, leaving the “traditional” fantasy shelves as a sort of ghetto for pervy elf-fanciers and Robert Jordan fans (as if there were a difference). I figured it was time for me to get with the times and see what this new crew of scribes was up to. Read more…

Someone pointed out to me that Wizards vs. Robots doesn’t actually have any robots in it. Yes, well it’s only pt. 1. Pt.2 will have more robots than you can wave a wand at, just you see! I just have to figure out how best to work them in.

In the meantime, here are a few links of interest:

• Autopsy of an Indy Bookseller — I’ve always had a soft spot for independent bookstores, having spent the better part of my teens and early 20s in one. In case you’re still wondering why it’s so hard to sell books the old fashioned way, this analysis of the fall of Berkley’s Codys’ Books is a must read.
• It’s last week’s nerd news, but these scans of Edward Gorey’s The Deflowered Girl are a brilliant revelation and a must read for any Gobblin who hasn’t already seen them.
• In my 2008 gaming recap, PixelJunk took top honors for their work. Gamasutra presents a great interview that explains how their unique studio works.
• From Adult Fan of LEGO (AFOL) to professional set designer! This three part interview at the Brothers brick is a fascinating read.

It’s the end of the year, and you know what that means. A week ago I had every intention of doing my part for blogging tradition by posting a top 10 list or two, but try as I might, I couldn’t really think of any category of stuff that I had 10 things worth recommending or punditizing. I love video games, for example, but considering that I still haven’t played GTA4, Fallout 3, Metal Gear Solid 4, Gears of War 2, Left for Dead or Wrath of the Lich King, would a top-10 list mean anything? So I guess I’ll buck the list trend and post my very personal highlights and trends of the past year. Nothing too formal — just a chance to reflect in public. Part 1 covers food, music and books. Part 2 will recap highlights in movies, games and life.  Even though there aren’t any rankings to dispute in the comments section, please do share your own highlights and hopes! Read more…

After three months on the wait list, I finally got my library copy of Neal Stephenson’s Anathem. Twenty pages in, I was ready to concede that XKCD nailed the book with a graph:

Thankfully I kept pushing through. It’s not the pretentious or misguided imagineering of the sort that sent Clive Barker’s initially brilliant Imajica into a pear-shaped spiral. No, Stephenson is decidedly in the Lewis Carrol world of word play, only in a more nerdy, less whimsical mindset. This is a book for people who like words, and if you feel the need to apologize for the language to justify the book (as many bloggers and online reviewers seem to do), then I think you’re missing the point.

Generally speaking, I don’t mind a few made up words here and there (I must like them or I’m a total hypocrite, given how I sprinkle them in Return to Labyrinth), as long as the words feel like the people in that world would actually use them in normal conversation (which is where I thought Imajica gets a fail). J.K. Rowling does this brilliantly for the most part. Stephen King is a talented jargonsmith (Lobstrocities = portmanteau perfection), but sometimes he seems a little too gratuitous with his faux-mots (does anyone in the world of the Dark Tower NOT carry their gun in a “Docker’s Clutch”?)

Anybody care to nominate a best or worst book for made-up words?

I’ll withhold final judgment on Anathem till I’m finished, but for now, I’m glad I stuck it out.

Also for bookophiles, definitely check out this list of the year’s best book covers.

Also, also, update: Oh, crap. I pre-ordered The Tales of Beedle the Bard, Collector’s Edition months ago, and promptly forgot about the order until I just received a shipping notice. The deluxe binding better be worth the pricetag!