Robert McCammon. Sometimes I want to pinch myself. To make sure that I'm not dreaming and that Mr. McCammon is indeed publishing again. I know, it's been nearly ten years since he returned to the field. He was gone for ten years though, and that was a long dry period. He was so sorely missed. Despite many fine writers emerging in and out of the genre, no one could even come close to replacing Robert McCammon.
When I heard that McCammon's first book after his absence was a historical novel, I was only slightly disappointed. Historicals were never my favorite type of book to read. But it was McCammon.
I should not have had the slightest misgivings. Speaks the Nightbird is arguably the best book that Robert McCammon had published to date. It's a vividly realized portrait of the turn of the seventeenth century, and it also introduced readers to a wonderful protagonist named Matthew Corbett. Corbett was a magistrate's apprentice in Speaks the Nightbird, but he has gone on to more interesting career paths in the three books that have featured him since then. Corbett is now a professional 'problem solver' in 1703 New York City.
Yes, McCammon is doing his first series with the character. Corbett has been featured in three other books since Speaks the Nightbird: The Queen of Bedlam, Mr. Slaughter, and now The Providence Rider. The great thing about this series is that each novel has its own personality. When many writers do a series, the books are essentially the same story with details changed. Not so with Robert McCammon and the Matthew Corbett series.
In The Providence Rider, Corbett is launched quite literally into his most exotic adventure yet. Already targeted by the nefarious "Emperor of Crime", Dr. Fell, Corbett is taken against his wishes to an island where the Doctor reigns supreme. Though Fell has previously marked Corbett for death, he now needs the young problem solver to help him with some of his own troubles. So young Mr. Corbett is off on a perilous journey across the sea, where he will find danger, intrigue, romance, and genuine evil. Far from his comfortable home in America.
What makes this series work so, other than McCammon's flawless depiction of the past and the exquisite language he conjures it up with, is the basic decency of Matthew Corbett. The young detective is intelligent, tenacious, honorable, and simply a good human being. Yet no man can face the evils Corbett faces in these books and remain wholly innocent.
The publisher states that The Providence Rider is a perfect entry point for new readers of the Matthew Corbett books. And it is. But if you haven't read the first three, take my advice: Get them all and take a month off from work and read them all in order.
Subterranean Press has pronounced 2012 to be The Year of Robert McCammon and that is a very fine thing. The Providence Rider will be published in May, and other classic reprints are to follow. I can think of no better home for the incomparable fiction of Robert McCammon.
Not so long ago I was watching an old favorite movie with a friend. It was Of Unknown Origin. Remember it? Peter Weller played an urbanite who lives in a beautiful restored brownstone. His idyllic life is shattered by the intrusion of a very large, very intelligent, very aggressive rat. If you haven't seen it, you should. It's pretty good.
Anyway, at one point Weller is at a library researching rats. My friend made the comment, "That was back when people went to the library".
I didn't think about it a lot at the time. I was engrossed in the movie, even though I had seen it a few times before. But later it kind of haunted me. Back when people went to the library...
My friend was right, though. It's true. People don't go to the library much anymore. And why should they? Everything is available on their computers and e-books are cheap. Who needs to go to the library?
I do. I've always loved libraries. I've spend countless hours in them. Roaming among the books, reading magazines, just enjoying time among the words. Not to mention getting plenty of free reading materials.
I think it's sad. I've always considered libraries to be the cornerstone of any civilized community. So much is there to be had, and for free. Knowledge, entertainment, art, culture.
Libraries offer so much. The local ones near me offer free tax consultations. Free computer lessons. Clubs and events. Movies. Writer groups. Events for children.
But people simply aren't going to libraries anymore. Some are, sure, but not like before. Programs are cancelled because of lack of interest. Some people don't even want to read books from libraries because they fear that someone has soiled them somehow. I've heard that people have found boogers in library books, but of the hundreds I've borrowed I've never seen evidence of that. I'd be more concerned about touching door handles and credit/debit card machines. Not that I am. That way lies madness.
There could conceivably come a day when libraries become obsolete. Everyone content to stay at home and do all of their reading, researching, and even socializing at their computers and other electronic gadgets. It sounds like an Orwellian nightmare to me.
When is the last time you spent any time at your local library? I can't speak for all of them, everywhere, but all of the libraries I've been to have been filled with great people and great books.
A strong message is going out to Hollywood: Horror films do not need to be made with obscene budgets that would feed a third world country. I hate the look of those high tech movies that appear to have been made on computers. Ingenuity, performances, and screenwriting are far more effective than endless mind-numbing special effects. Especially when it comes to the overused CGI technology.
The first Paranormal Activity was reportedly budgeted at an astonishing $15,000. In theaters alone it brought in nearly two hundred million dollars in box office revenue. This is before home video and television sales.
The second Paranormal Activity was made for quite a bit more money, but still a pittance in comparison to nearly any other movie that gets a wide distribution. Three million dollars to make it, and it earned seventy five million dollars at the box office. Not quite the hit as the first PA movie, but not so shabby either.
The third Paranormal Activity movie was the biggest success of all of them. Made for five million dollars, it made $203,148,425 worldwide.
As always, fans were divided about these movies, but I liked them all. And I'm most heartened that I felt that the third Paranormal Activity was easily the best in the series so far. With these kind of profits there will certainly be another in the series this Halloween. Let's hope that the filmmakers can keep the same kind of quality up that we've seen in them so far.
Released in August 2010, The Last Exorcism was budgeted at merely 1.5 million dollars. It wasn't as lucrative as the Paranormal Activity films, but it brought in nearly seventy million dollars. Not a bad haul for its backers. I really liked this one, too. It's one of my favorite horror movies of the last decade.
Last year's Insidious had the same million-and-a-half dollar budget that The Last Exorcism had, but it was even more profitable. Insidious made over ninety million smackers home. I did like Insidious, and I felt that the first half had some seriously intense moments. It kind of fell apart in the end for me, but not enough so that I hated it. Insidious is a pretty good horror movie. I sure as hell have seen a lot worse.
Now we have The Devil Inside. It has only been in theaters for a couple of weeks, but it has brought in almost fifty-million dollars so far. And that number is rising. Its budget? One million dollars.
I have not seen The Devil Inside yet, but I plan to before the week is over. The trailer looks pretty damned good to me.
I know that a lot of independent, low budget horror movies are made, but the movies I have talked about here have gotten wide theatrical releases and they have all been huge money-makers. I'm not talking about Avatar-type money, but for the relatively small investments, they are, in my opinion, just as successful.
We've all seen big budget horror done well. The Exorcist, The Silence of the Lambs, and Scream come immediately to mind. But for most longtime fans, the most effective horror movies have been done in the low budget arena. Big budget horror in recent memory has been acutely disappointing: The Wolf Man, Van Helsing, and that Underworld crap come immediately and painfully to mind.
I urge everyone to get out and see The Devil Inside. As well as any other low budget horror movies that come to theaters near you. I know it's hard to tear yourself away from your beloved home entertainment systems, but we need to continue to send the message to Hollywood.
I was a serious science fiction fan when I was a kid. I'm not talkin' about that George Roddenbery/George Lucas stuff either. I was a reader.
My main inspiration as an SF fan was the work of Robert A. Heinlein, but right after that was The Legion of Space, by Jack Williamson.
The Legion of Space is the definitive Space Opera novel. For me it defined the era of SF before the Golden Age. I thrilled to it as a lad. And I eagerly devoured the sequels: The Cometeers, and One Against the Legion. There was another sequel, published decades later, called The Queen of the Legion, but I never read it. I always intended to re-read the first three before tackling the book. But I never did it.
Even in those humble years, I knew The Legion of Space was rather silly, but it was such a rollicking good time that I barely had time to notice it while I was reading it. I think I was around 12 years old when I read the book--the perfect age in which to enjoy it.
The Legion was originally serialized in the venerable Astounding Science Fiction, and later reprinted in novel form. Each chapter ends in a kind of a cliffhanger.
Savvy fans have suggested that George Lucas had read The Legion of Space and was influenced by it when he created Star Wars. Either way, Star Wars set the SF genre back nearly fifty years.
Jack Williamson, though not as famous as the Big Three Science Fiction writers (Heinlein, Clarke, Asimov), was one of the most influential and important figures in the history of the genre. His fiction matured massively in the years of his long career, but none of his later works bring forth as much affection in me than The Legion of Space.
I plan to re-read The Legion of Space in 2012. I'm almost afraid to do so. Will I experience the same wonder that I did when I was twelve? That's incredibly unlikely. I hope that I don't hate The Legion of Space, and destroy that bit of youth and innocence that is in my heart for it. That's the risk any of us take when we choose to revisit the past. I'm not sure when I'll actually start reading The Legion of Space again, but I'll let you know when I do. Stay tuned to this website.
2011 was, like most years, good and bad. The world and my country seem to continue to fall apart, and more people seem concerned about playing the blame game than come up with any solutions. My personal life has been miserable, but things at my job have greatly improved. Ebooks continue to overtake publishing, but thanks to true bibliophiles, the small press is thriving.
Allow me to list some of my favorite books and movies of the year.
One of my very favorites of the year came out of nowhere. I received an offer to review a YA horror novel called Rotters, by Daniel Kraus, and it completely blew me away. Not enough people in the community took a chance on this one.
Old favorites of mine turned out some of the best work of their careers. Lansdale returned with his popular Hap and Leonard characters with Devil Red and Hyenas. Both were excellent. And Joe also published a ripping YA book called All the Earth, Thrown to the Sky, which I rank with his very best work.
F. Paul Wilson continued his revisionist Repairman Jack series with The Dark at the End, and I thought it was one of the best books he has done.
Bill Pronzini somehow manages to keep his longstanding character, The Nameless Detective, fresh and compelling. Camouflage, the latest, is as good as any book Bill has given his fans.
Preston and Child created a new character and series with Gideon's Sword. While not as fun as their Pendergast books, Gideon Crow makes for fun reading. And Cold Vengeance continued the Pendergast series in a dark, violent story. Their legion of fans eagerly await the next adventures of both Crow and Pendergast.
Stephen King finally wrote a book that pleased nearly everyone. 10/22/63 is a long novel, but it is one of King's finest creations. His best in decades, or possibly ever.
Lewis Shiner has been a big favorite of mine since I first read him, and his 2011 novel, Dark Tangos, is a hard, lean, mean look at things most of us have no desire to see. If you missed it, don't hesitate to get yourself a copy. No one is better than Shiner.
Matthew Warner wrote a big nasty one called Blood Born. Despite its lurid subject matter, it's literate and beautifully written.
The legendary Richard Matheson returned with a new novel called Other Kingdoms. While it can't hold a candle to his earlier classics like I Am Legend, Somewhere in Time, or Hell House, Other Kingdoms is interesting and unusual. You should read it.
Norman Prentiss followed up his brilliant debut, Invisible Fences, with another great book, Four Legs in the Morning. If you miss the wonderful type of horror fiction that was being published in the 70's, read it.
Chet Williamson returned after far too long of an absence from the field with Defenders of the Faith, a very dark suspense novel. It's a controversial book that didn't win over everyone, but I thought it was one of the best of the year.
It was a pretty good year for movies. Not a lot of great horror was released in theaters, but there were some highlights.
Audiences responded in a big way for Paranormal Activity 3. I thought it was easily the best in the series.
Don't Be Afraid of the Dark suffered from a deceptive ad campaign, and it disappointed many viewers. I felt that it was a fine feature with a nice, dark fairy tale essence.
Insidious performed well at the box office, and thought that the first half was highly effective. The second half fell pretty flat, but not enough for me to suggest that you shouldn't give it a chance on home video.
Wes Craven and Kevin Williamson brought back their Scream franchise with Scream 4. It was good to see the characters again, but the results were fairly lackluster.
As usual, my favorite film of the year was not a horror movie. Alexander Payne's The Descendents is a rich mix of humor, drama, and pathos, with a rich Hawaiian soundtrack. Do not miss this one.
Payne co-produced another big favorite of mine from 2011: Cedar Rapids. Being a conventioneer myself, I really appreciated this one. It is hilarious and almost as raunchy as The Hangover, but Cedar Rapids had much more heart.
The Hunter S. Thompson adaptation, The Rum Diary was finally completed and released. I thought it was one of the best movies of the year. Most reviewers did not agree.
Woody Allen, loved by thousands, despised by millions, is my favorite director. Midnight in Paris was his most successful movie ever. All but the most hard-hearted Woody haters sang its praises.
Judd Apatow and Paul Feig teamed to prove that the girls can be as raunchy and hysterical as the dudes. Bridesmaids was a blockbuster that played to big audiences for weeks. It was a star-making film for Kristen Wiig and Melissa McCarthy.
Rise of the Planet of the Apes wasn't perfect, but it wiped away the horrid memory of Tim Burton's wretched remake.
I liked some others, but the ones listed above were the ones I felt were most noteworthy. There are others I wish to see, like Hugo, Young Adult, War Horse, and J. Edgar, that I haven't gotten to yet.
Come, boys and girls. Join me on a trip back in time. To a more innocent, happier, purer time for Horror. Back to the days of the late 1980's and early 90's. A time before the genre was drowned in a deluge of remakes. When craftsmen and women created special effects by hand. Before everything was trashed by a deluge of zombies. Back to The Horror Hall of Fame.
The Horror Hall of Fame was a televised award show. There were three of them in all, and the host was none other than Freddy K., Robert Englund.
Held at Universal Studios Florida, The Horror Hall of Fame was a ceremony modeled after the Academy Awards. It was all obviously set up beforehand, but that didn't lessen the fun one bit. In it, worthy movies, actors, effects artists, etc, were honored. Celebrity presenters would joke and announce the inductees, and behind the scenes footage was shown. Clips for upcoming horror movies were also aired on it. Some really forgotten (or forgettable) ones like Highway to Hell, and Guilty as Charged. The awards committee also chose the best horror movie of each particular year.
There were a lot of worthy inductees: Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Forrest J Ackerman, Vincent Price, Roger Corman, William F. Gaines, Night of the Living Dead, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Alien, and many, many more.
Some of the presenters were obvious choices. Others were a bit odd. Phyllis Diller, for instance, and obnoxious comics Sam Kinison, Joan Rivers, and Gilbert Gottfried. The Cryptkeeper from HBO's Tales from the Crypt made appearances.
How-To special effects demonstrations were done by Steve Johnson and Linnea Quigley. The attempts at humor in these are pretty cringe inducing, but that was part of the charm. They weren't trying to be ultra hip.
In fact, the whole affair was more than a little cheesy, but we loved it. It was a great time for horror and we all knew it. But the landscape was changing rapidly. The corny fun of the 80's was dead by the mid 90's. And it never really came back again.
I taped these shows when they were originally aired. Remember frantically hitting the Pause button when the commercials came on when taping things like this? I watched them over and over again. In those pre You Tube days, it was very difficult to see the kind of footage that was on The Horror Hall of Fame.
My tape collection meant the world to me, but they're all gone now. I gave them up when DVD hit it big. Who had room for everything, anyway?
I recently bought the three years of The Horror Hall of Fame from some guy on ioffers. Watching them again was a warm, but melancholy, experience.
I miss those days. As I said in the beginning of this essay, it was a simpler, more innocent time. We watched our movies on creaky tapes. We obsessively taped movies and shows, marveling over the technology that allowed us to do so. We got our news from Fangoria and other magazines. Though they were rapidly dying, drive-in theaters were more plentiful. We watched movies at independent theaters. Desperate to communicate with others that shared our love of horror, we wrote letters in longhand and sent them to the magazines.
Things are better now. We have the Internet in which to get news, information, and to communicate with others who share our dementia. We stream movies from it. Sound systems that blow away what most theaters had are affordable to almost anyone. Nearly every movie ever made is readily available in one form or another.
Logically, everything is much better. Then why do I feel so sad and nostalgic when I watch The Horror Hall of Fame?
To everyone who comes here to read, join in at the forum, lurk, and even those that hate my guts. Regardless of your belief system, have a good weekend. Merry Christmas. Treat your loved ones well. A kiss can mean much more than a store-bought gift. Saying I LOVE YOU carries more weight than any gadget.
Let's hope for a New Year of great books, movies, music, and love.
I know that, as owner of a site called Horror Drive-In, I am supposed to be mining for gold nuggets in the world of independent and foreign horror. I'm should be championing the latest transgressive film from Spain or from some guy editing a subversive horror movie in Peoria.
I did that stuff for years and I got tired of it. Oh, I still like horror movies, but these days I prefer to watch films that portray people in real-life situations. Our everyday lives are filled with horror and imagination. Love and hate. Fear and joy. Wonder and despair.
Last night I watched a good one called Welcome to the Rileys. It stars James Gandolfini, playing against type, as a man whose longtime wife suffers from agoraphobia. Their teenage daughter had died in a car wreck, and wearying of existing with her in a kind of living death, he befriends a teen stripper/prostitute while away at a convention. A gentle man, he attempts to help her. Meanwhile his wife must overcome her affliction and find him in order to save their marriage.
I sometimes get down on my knees and thank the Movie Gods for greenlighting smart, performance-driven films like Welcome to the Rileys. There isn't a lot of commercial potential in such a project, and it made almost nothing in theaters. Box Office Mojo reports Welcome to the Rileys as having earned $158,898.
The fact is, most people do not WANT to see grim, dark stories about people in uncomfortable situations. They want explosions and wisecracks, pirates and cartoons, CGI and 3D.
Kristin Sewart plays the young prostitute and she is marvelous. I also thought she was very good in Adventureland and The Runaways. Sadly, it seems as though the fickle teenage Twilight fans do not wish to see her in other types of roles. I look forward to seeing her in next year's adaptation of On The Road.
I was mostly unfamiliar with Melissa Leo, who plays the wife, but she is marvelous in Welcome to the Rileys, too. Her performance is flawless and it must have been a difficult one to realistically portray.
Also predictably, the dunderheaded critics mostly panned Welcome to the Rileys. "Slow", "Weak", "Facile", "Ponderous", they claim. Well, some of them. It got a 54% rating at Rotten Tomatoes. Ebert gave it three stars and I can't argue with that. I've seen better movies, but Welcome to the Rileys stands well above most of what is being produced these days.
I've only read one book by Alan Ryan, but I cannot overemphasize how much it meant to me.
Well, I think I actually read two. One was an anthology called Hallowe'en Horrors. I also read some of Alan's short stories in anthologies. Ryan was apparently a favorite of Charles L. Grant.
The one novel I read was called Dead White. I liked it a lot. But it was more than that. Dead White was one of the books that really pushed me from being a science fiction fan to a horror reader. I had read everything from King by that point. Some Ramsey Campbell, James Herbert, Straub, F. Paul Wilson, T.E.D. Klein's The Ceremonies, Dennis Etchison. Monteleone. And of course Charles Grant.
There was something about Dead White. As anyone who knows me at all knows, I love the cold and snow. I read Dead White on a cold night. I lived in this meager house that didn't have great heating. I remember sitting there in a recliner, reading it. I was enjoying the cold air in the house, which made the book even more chilling.
Alan Ryan had a couple of other novels out, but for some reason I never got around to reading them. They never seemed to turn up in the used bookstores, which was just about the only place I could afford to buy reading materials back then.
Alan Ryan was of the Old School horror writers. Atmosphere, mood, and character, rather than gallons of blood and guts. As most of us know, that type of fiction fell out of favor by the late 80's. Like a few others, Ryan drifted away from the genre. When I asked people in the know about him, I was told that he was involved in travel writing.
I would think about Dead White from time to time, always remembering how much I liked it. How important it was to me. This novel helped define me as a horror reader. I was still reading SF back when I read it, but around that time I stopped almost completely. I read more now, mostly Golden Age stuff, but for years and years I mostly stuck to horror and suspense.
I was glad to hear that Alan Ryan, now going as Alan Peter Ryan, had a story in Shivers 6. Damn me, I still haven't read it, but I will. Soon.
Then I heard the worst news. Alan Peter Ryan had died. From the worst, most despicable sort of cancer. Pancreatic, which claimed my brother.
We're losing the best ones. The stylists who shaped the genre into something wonderful. Unfortunately, few seem to be aware of it. The great Les Daniels died, with barely a ripple in the community. We already lost Charles Grant a few years ago.
Now for the good news: Cemetery Dance Publications just announced two new books by Alan Peter Ryan. One is a collection of short stories called The Back of Beyond. The other is a novella called Amazonas,which may have been inspired by his travel writing.
We can't bring Alan Ryan, Charles L. Grant, Les Daniels, Richard Laymon, Robert Bloch, Manly Wade Wellman, Karl Edward Wagner, Ray Russell (just to name a few) back from the dead. But we can keep their voices alive. By reading their published works. Cherishing them, and passing them on to others.
Chances are this movie slipped by under your radar. If you missed it, you need to hunt down a copy. It shouldn't be too hard. I'm sure Netflix has it and they're giving away copies at the secondary markets.
I was looking for something to watch last night and I dropped by Big Lots. They have a large assortment of DVDs for only three dollars. I couldn't find anything and I was about to give up when I saw a lone copy of Snow Angels sitting there. I've wanted to see this movie for a while, so I snapped it up.
Snow Angels was directed by David Gordon Green and he adapted the Stewart O'Nan novel of the same name. It's almost impossible to believe that Green, who made such smart independent films like All the Real Girls, Undertow, and Snow Angels also made something like Your Highness. And people bitched about the remake of Susperia he was once attached to. Nothing could be as bad as Your Highness. Methinks Green needs to disassociate himself from his old friend Danny McBride.
I was spellbound from the minute I put Snow Angels on. This is a hypnotic story of sad lives in a small, snowy town. We meet several people whose lives are in turmoil. Events escalate and erupt into tragedy. This is such a sad story. We know people just like those in the story. Hell, some of us ARE those people.
Snow Angels begins slowly and it demands patience. The viewer gradually gets into the heads of the characters and feels their loneliness, their desperation. There is a feeling of impending doom hovering over the entire movie.
All the performers in Snow Angels are excellent, but the great Sam Rockwell truly stands out. Rockwell is one of the most underrated actors working today. He was marvelous as Wild Bill, in The Green Mile, and I just saw him in Frost/Nixon. Rockwell was also really good in Moon, and Confessions of a Dangerous Mind. Snow Angels is his best role, I think. His character is complicated, tragic, and more than a little frightening. Frightening because some of is might see a little too much of ourselves in him.
I was just thinking that Woody Allen needs to call Sam Rockwell and put him in one of his movies, but he already appeared in one. It's a very small role, but Rockwell was in Celebrity.
Watching Snow Angels reminded me that I badly need to read more Stewart O'Nan. To be completely honest, I find it very hard to get into his style. I started a couple of his books and didn't get very far. I did enjoy a story he had a while back in Cemetery Dance Magazine. Like the movie, Snow Angels, O'Nan's work might require patience. And like Snow Angels, that patience will probably be amply rewarded. For some reason his novel, Last Night at the Lobster sounds really good to me. That's the one I'll probably try first.
In the meantime, folks, if you weary of dumb, loud, flashy excuses for thrillers, or phony baloney dramas, please make a point to see Snow Angels. When you do, you'd better get out a blanket. This movie will chill you to the bone.
There's a nature park not so far from my house. It's a beautiful place and I walk there whenever possible. Like when the temperature is well below sixty degrees. Across the street is a shopping center where there is the AMC 24 Theater, where I like to see movies. There is also a Books-a-Million there. On weekends I like to walk, and then go to a movie. If time permits, I drop in the bookstore too. That was my intention today.
I drove up and the writing was on the wall. Well, more precisely it was on the window: CLOSED. It can't have been closed for long and I didn't see or hear about any Going Out of Business Sale. It was just...gone.
It saddens me on numerous levels. Bookstores are sacred places and every time one of them closes, the world is a sadder, lonelier, place.
I never minded the chain bookstores as much as others did. That's for one very good reason. We never had any independent bookstores in my area. There was one I remember, but it was one of those little-old-lady places that has more knickknacks than actual books.
I always shopped at the chains. It's not like I had a choice. We had WaldenBooks and B. Dalton Booksellers. I loved B. Dalton the best, so of course it was the first to go. Dalton was the only place near me that sold David B. Silva's The Horror Show. I used to buy it there, as well as The Twilight Zone Magazine and Fangoria.
I had WaldenBooks after that, and I liked it. Then in the 90's, we got a big Barnes and Noble. I loved it. I went every single week.
Sometime around the year 2000 the Books-a-Million opened its doors. That was the year I was married. I distinctly remember buying a couple of paperbacks just before the wedding. Money was tight and I should not have been buying books, but then we never could resist that, could we? The books I got were Richard Laymon's The Stake, and Bentley Little's The Town.
My ex-wife and I camped for our honeymoon and I enjoyed reading The Town while I was on it. If there was a happier, more content time in my life, I sure don't know what it was.
Later, we'd go out to eat on Friday nights, and then hit Books-a-Million. The ex and I would get coffee (tea for me) and the kids would search the books and play in the children's activity area. Those were the days, my friends. How I wish they never ended.
But children grow up. Relationships crumble. Bookstores close down.
At least there's still a Barnes and Noble and I'll do my best to help keep them in business. And the AMC Theater is there, where I saw a terrific movie this morning. Sure I hate that it closed down some venerable independent theaters, but at least there is a place I can go and watch a movie on a big screen with a real, actual audience. If current trends persist, I won't be able to say the same about going out and buying a book. The saddest thing of all is how few readers seem to care.
People can often categorized in two different groups. Cat lovers, dog lovers. Sports fans, non-sports lovers. Liberal, Conservative. Drinkers, non-drinkers.
Within the world of fantasy/horror/science fiction readers, you can draw a distinct line between those that love Harlan Ellison and those that despise him.
Oh, I've met people who do not have extreme views on the man, but for the most part people really, really like Harlan and his work, or they really, really hate him.
Count me in the former group.
I remember the first time I encountered the work of Harlan Ellison. It was in an anthology that I got from the school library. I must have been in the seventh or eighth grade. I don't remember the title of the anthology, or who edited it, but the name Roger Elwood is nagging the back of my mind. He may or may not have been the editor. I do know that it was a hardcover and it had a yellowish cover.
I remember that I liked all of the stories in the book. I also cannot remember a thing about any of them, or who the writers were. With one exception. There was a story by Harlan Ellison called Silent in Gehenna in the anthology. I loved it and I thought that it was easily the best piece in the book. I never forget the name.
Later, I bought as many of those cool Pyramid Books editions of Ellison books that were coming out in the 70's. You know, the ones with those groovy Leo and Diane Dillon covers? I liked it all: The science fiction, the essays, the juvie books from the 50's, all of it. I've always been a fan and I always will be a fan.
A s years went by, I began encountering people who not only hated the work of Harlan Ellison, they hated the man behind it. I can almost understand that, because this is a case where it is almost impossible to separate the work from the man. Harlan is probably more famous for his notorious and controversial public speaking than for his work as a writer. He's is acerbic, offensive, outspoken, and insulting. He's also hilarious and more of often than not, right about the things he says.
You hear stories all the time. I've heard dozens of people say that Harlan offended them. I've heard dozens of people say that Harlan took the time to help them.
I have a book suggestion for those that, like myself, consider Harlan Ellison to be a great man. Its title is a word that Harlan is credited for creating: BUGFUCK. Bugf#ck: The Worthless Wit and Wisdom of Harlan Ellison is a beautiful little book that is published by Spectrum Fantastic Art. It's a lovely, elegant little thing, only about 5"x4", and it is filled with explosive quotes from Harlan Ellison. This book is a hardcover, with a beautiful dust jacket and a nicely sewn binding. Don't ask me for technical details about the paper or anything, because I know nothing of such things.
With a cover price under ten bucks,Bugf#ck: The Worthless Wit and Wisdom of Harlan Ellison will make an ideal holiday gift. Forget buying socks or other crap that people either don't need or can buy for themselves. This book will put a huge smile on any Harlan Ellison fan's face. Just don't screw up and accidentally get it for any of his enemies. They'd likely go bugfuck on you.
Few of us have drive-in theaters close enough to patronize. I don't, and it's a constant heartbreak. I spent many of the best nights of my early life at drive-ins. I think most people who've spent any time at them feel the same way.
We have our memories, but they fade. I think that most of us would like a way to revisit the wonderful, innocent days of the drive-in, but in a fresh way. And I think most of us would like a way to share our love, our drive-in theater heritage with younger people. Our children, and even our children's children.
A woman named April Wright has many memories of the drive-in and she wants to make a documentary about the phenomenon. Going Attractions is the name of it, and she has been working on it for several years. April has traveled the country, visiting as many operating drive-ins as she can. She also visited some of the closed ones.
You probably know where I'm going with this. April needs help with funding to finish Going Attractions. She has a Kickstarter campaign underway and I'm hoping that some of you will want to be a part of it.
The question some will undoubtedly ask is, Why should I help finance a DVD? I don't have to pay in advance for my groceries or my tires, do I?
Why indeed.
I'll tell you why. I contribute to projects like this because if I and others don't, chances are very good that they will not be completed. Corporations make most of the movies that are made these days. Corporations don't care much about drive-in theaters. It costs a lot of money to complete and release a DVD and many independent filmmakers cannot do it. At least not alone.
There are different levels of membership. I paid up the fifty smackers to have my name in the credits and to get a copy of the DVD. Maybe that's a tad expensive, but this will definitely be a special project that, if it's completed, I will watch again and again.
With Kickstarter, if the specified goal isn't made in the allotted time period, you don't pay a thing. Sadly, it's starting to look like it won't be reached.
There's still time though and, again, I really hope that some of you consider signing up.
When I was a a boy we had a Super 8 projector and a bunch of those one-reel, ten minute movies. All of them were horror. It was great. TV parties were and always will be cool, but there was something especially wonderful, magical, about hanging a sheet against a wall and threading the film into the projector. The neighborhood kids would all come over and marvel at our little impromptu movie theater.
Going to the movies was always magical, too. No home theater system could match the experience of seeing a motion picture in a darkened theater with an audience of strangers. A big part of it was hearing the film clacking through the sprockets of the projector. Watching dust motes lazily dancing in the ghostly light of the film being projected onto the screen.
As with everything else, the movie experience was bigger and better at the drive-in. That beam of light which carried dreams and nightmares across the night sky was heavenly, majestic.
If you go to the movies now, chances are very good that you will be watching a digital presentation. There are a few holdouts, mainly in independent houses that specialize in older movies. Film projectors are not being manufactured any more.
Is this a bad thing? No, I don't believe so. Digital photography and projection looks and sounds magnificent. It's cheaper too, which is important. Some movies are incredibly profitable, but most do not even make their money back. Costly film doesn't have to be bought and replaced whenever bad takes are done.
Any way you look at it, digital photography and projection is the superior way to go. So why do I feel as though we've lost something?
The day has finally arrived. I have a copy of King's 11/22/63 in my possession. I've been looking so forward to this. Shoot, this is possibly the most anticipated book of my life.
Exaggeration? Maybe, but I've had this great feeling about 11/22/63. It's been a long time since King wrote about the early 60's. I think it's a time that is very dear to his heart.
The greatest reading hours of my life have been spent with Stephen King. Sadly, I can't say that I've loved all of his books, but I sure did love a lot of them.
Memories get rusty, but I do recall seeing the hardcover of Pet Semetery in a bookstore window and that I had not yet read a single word of his fiction. By the time Pet Semetery came out in paperback, I had read them all.
I read the majority of them over the Winter of 1983-1984. I started with The Shining and when I began reading that novel, it was like coming home for the first time. This was what I had been craving.
It was a delirious time for me, as I raced through one King book after another. I loved every book up until and including his mammoth novel of children and fear, It. After that...
I enjoyed The Eyes of the Dragon, for what it was. I liked Misery quite a bit, but not as much as many other fans did. The Dark Half, Four Past Midnight, and Needful Things were all enjoyable, even if they didn't bowl me over the way the earlier ones did.
Unlike a lot of fans, I thought that Gerald's Game and Dolores Claybourne were among King's best works.
I could go on and on, but the truth is, King's books were hit-or-miss for me for years.
Then there were the Dark Tower books. I struggled, suffered, through the first three of them. I bought the fourth and gave up shortly into it. These books just weren't for me. And it pained me to see King put elements of The Dark Tower in nearly everything he wrote for a while there.
Jump to 2008. Duma Key was coming out. I really didn't like King's previous book, Lisey's Story, and, please forgive me, but I almost gave up on Stephen King. Almost.
I dutifully checked Duma Key out of the library, half expecting not to finish it. To my very pleasant surprise, I loved Duma Key. The story about a man recovering from a brutal accident resonated deeply with me, as I was going through a sort of recovery myself while I was reading it.
And I absolutely adored Under the Dome. Same with Full Dark, No Stars.
King, it seems to me as well as a lot of other readers I know, has gotten a second (or maybe a third) wind and is writing at the very top of his game again.
I feel almost giddy with anticipation. Like I'm about to hang out with an old friend. And to those of us who've been reading Stephen King for a long time, it seems like we know him well. His introductions and nonfiction are so chatty and friendly. It's a wonderful relationship and like King, we have survived the hard years that all of us have weathered. Most of us are pretty sane. And good ol' Steve, he's still married to the same girl. We love him for that.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to retire to my bedroom. It's a cold, windy night. I'm reminded of that Winter so long ago, when I embraced each King book with such eager happiness.
I should not have had the slightest misgivings. Speaks the Nightbird is arguably the best book that Robert McCammon had published to date. It's a vividly realized portrait of the turn of the seventeenth century, and it also introduced readers to a wonderful protagonist named Matthew Corbett. Corbett was a magistrate's apprentice in Speaks the Nightbird, but he has gone on to more interesting career paths in the three books that have featured him since then. Corbett is now a professional 'problem solver' in 1703 New York City.
The first Paranormal Activity was reportedly budgeted at an astonishing $15,000. In theaters alone it brought in nearly two hundred million dollars in box office revenue. This is before home video and television sales.
The Legion of Space is the definitive Space Opera novel. For me it defined the era of SF before the Golden Age. I thrilled to it as a lad. And I eagerly devoured the sequels: The Cometeers, and One Against the Legion. There was another sequel, published decades later, called The Queen of the Legion, but I never read it. I always intended to re-read the first three before tackling the book. But I never did it.
I drove up and the writing was on the wall. Well, more precisely it was on the window: CLOSED. It can't have been closed for long and I didn't see or hear about any Going Out of Business Sale. It was just...gone.
Going to the movies was always magical, too. No home theater system could match the experience of seeing a motion picture in a darkened theater with an audience of strangers. A big part of it was hearing the film clacking through the sprockets of the projector. Watching dust motes lazily dancing in the ghostly light of the film being projected onto the screen.
