BookBin2013

BookBin2013: Batgirl Volume 2: Knightfall Descends

~ LobaBlanca

knightfalldescends

Finally back to my own collection…although, admittedly, this is a recent purchase and not one of those myriad books languishing in the literary limbo of my own devising. Still, this collection and the other two that I recently purchased are stories that I have been waiting to continue for quite a while now. I simply can’t wait to read these.

It’s been since January of this year that I paid a visit to Gotham City to see what’s new with two of my favorite members of the Order Chiroptera. I’ll be talking more about my visit with the Lady Kane soon enough, but this is about the Knightfall Descending upon the lovely Barbara Gordon.

Writer Gail Simone continues to spin quite a yarn for Gordon as she re-acclimates herself with her role as Batgirl. There’s a nice bit of back story in the beginning, a bit of “top of the world for a moment or two” as we see her fighting alongside Batman and Robin, followed by a decision to leave the darkness of fighting the criminal world to live a normal life…only to realize that, as the first issue of this collection points out on its last page, “Sometimes, the darkness finds you.”

That darkness is, of course, what Gordon continues to struggle with as she tries once more to regain the full prowess of her role as Batgirl. There is other darkness as well throughout this novel, both within the fortress of Gordon’s personal life as well as throughout the expanses of her home turf. Quite a bit, actually. Gotham’s sinister underside spills into the lives of its heroes, painting every corner with blood and menace, revenge and desperation all the shades of the grimmest spectrum.

Overall, the stories within this novel were interesting enough to keep me reading. I also believe that they are putting into place some elements that will set the stage for even more interesting storytelling to come with Batgirl’s upcoming third collection, Death of the Family.

[Loba Tangent: I have already pre-ordered this collection, which apparently ties in with several other Gotham-related graphic novels that all share the same title, and am counting down the days until its October 29 release. The cover art alone makes me want to get my hands on this one!]

Speaking of art, Ardian Syaf is still doing the bulk of the penciling for Batgirl, and is still doing an admirable job. I’m not really all that fond of the cover of this particular collection (done by artist Stanley Lau). I feel like that cover is all about one thing: “Hey, look, it’s Batgirl’s crotch!” However, Syaf’s still treating Batgirl as if she’s more than crotch shots, butt shots, and boobs. I wish they drew Batwoman a little more like Syaf draws Batgirl.

Speaking of Batwoman (which I like to do quite often, thank you), she makes a crossover appearance toward the end of this collection! And answers that most important question: Who would win in a fight between Batwoman and Batgirl? (Guess you’ll just have to read the novel to learn the answer.) Even though I still think that Batwoman artist J.H. Williams III is the stronger artist, I really liked Syaf’s treatment of Batwoman. He made her a little sportier looking as well, while still giving her the rather…generous proportions that Williams bestows upon her in her own comics. Syaf might be a good choice to take over Batwoman’s world as well, now that…

…but that’s a conversation for another post.

Final Verdict: I liked this collection. I found some of the revelations to be interesting and titillating enough (especially the ones involving Gordon’s family members). I do feel that this was a bit of a “bridge” collection…stories that are not necessarily the greatest, but that are setting us up for something that might transcend greatness in the telling. For that reason alone, I’m glad I picked back up with Barbara Gordon and her Batgirl journeys.

BookBin2013: Shockaholic

~ lobablanca

It’s a shame, really, that Carrie Fisher decided to follow up her wildly successful memoir Wishful Drinking (which I have read, adored, and reviewed) with this book. It was like following up a Rembrandt retrospective with finger-paintings from the local kindergarten. Sure, the parents are proud, but everyone else is immensely disappointed at the mediocrity.

(I wonder, though, if Debbie Reynolds could even be proud of this book…)

I mentioned in my review of Wishful Drinking that Fisher had undergone electroshock therapy (ECT), which helped with her severe bipolar disorder, but also left her with rather gaping holes in her memory. Shockaholic was her attempt to document some of the moments in her life that have already been whittled away by the ECT in spits and spurts, before the memories are completely eradicated.

To be honest, a lot of the memories she decided to write about aren’t really ones worth salvaging…or at least not worth putting down in a book you intend to sell people. It’s a lot of “Hey, here’s another half-remembered moment that shows how awesome I think I am” or “Here’s a snippet of memory about some of the cool people I’ve interacted with” or “Hey, I remember spending time with Michael Jackson, so I’m going to exploit that memory while it’s still here.”

Not only was this a painful exercise in self-aggrandizement, but it also completely lacked the glorious humor and wit that I have so often loved about Fisher’s writings and performances. If these are further victims of her ongoing ECT sessions, it’s a sad, sad day, indeed.

Final Verdict: The only reasons I finished this book were: A) The font was massive, so it was a really quick read; and B) I kept hoping, hoping, hoping that it would get better (instead, it got worse…SPOILERS!). Back to the library. No chance of adding this to my personal collection.

BookBin2013: N0S4A2

~ LobaBlanca

n0s4a2

I suppose it was inevitable that I would finally encounter a work from my latest literary heart-throb that simply didn’t enrapture me in the same ways as his other works. I just wasn’t expecting that moment to come so quickly in our relationship. Yet so it went with Joe Hill’s latest offering N0S4A2.

In this particular world of Hill’s devising, there are people who are able to create conduits to other places, either real or fictional, through the power of their minds. For young Victoria “Vic” McQueen, she learns that she can find missing items for people by using her ability to create conduits thanks to her Raleigh Tuff Burner bike and the “ghost” of the Shorter Way Bridge that once stood in ruins near her house. On the flip side, there are people like Charlie Manx, who uses his ability to create a conduit through his connection to his Rolls Royce Wraith (a rather possessive possessed car, if you ask me, Christine) to steal children away to “Christmasland,” a place of his own devising that allows him to drain the children of their life rather vampiristically (in a metaphorical sense) while letting them live in what he considers to be the perfect childhood utopia…a place where it is always Christmas, always happy, always festive. Of course, McQueen and Manx cross paths early in the novel (it only makes sense since one is a stealer and one is a finder), and cross paths again years later, to settle the score from the previous encounter.

Hilarity…well, you know the drill.

I’m not really certain what exactly didn’t click with me with this newest tale from Hill. I enjoyed the fact that the protagonist was a strong-willed girl with a wicked imagination and a pretty fascinating secret ability…and who would grow up into a flawed but still likeable, still imaginative young woman, damaged by that ability and seeking respite from the scars of that damage.

The supporting characters were also quite interesting and multifaceted, for the most part. I think, though, that the ultimate failing of this book, for me, was in both the story and its antagonist. First, I’m kind of through with vampires. And while this book isn’t exactly a vampire tale, the invocation of vampirism through the slightly-too-cute-for-its-own-good title forces me to envision Charlie Manx’s draining of life from the children he kidnaps as akin to the actions of that fabled creature of the night. Plus, there’s the hook teeth and the only traveling after dark that really hit it home.

Really, though, more than vampires, Charlie Manx slowly began to evolve into one particular character in my mind, based on descriptions of his physical appearance, his age, his mannerisms, his olden-days slang…halfway through the book, I realized that I was picturing Manx as an even more ill-tempered C. Montgomery Burns.

I’m willing to bet that Hill would not think this was excellent at all.

Of course, I then began to imagine Manx’s latest henchman, Bing Partridge, as a cross between Smithers and Barney. I even started picturing Vic McQueen as sort of like Lisa Simpson. Unfortunately, I also started to picture her lover as Comic Book Guy (for reasons that are quite obvious if you read this book). Again, all this was not helping at all with the horror element.

Worst. Comparisons. Ever.

Plus, there’s the fact that Hill crammed as many in-jokes as possible into this book, both in reference to his own previous books and most definitely in reference to his father’s works. N0S4A2 contains a panoply of Kingian references and allusions, which I admit both amused and irritated me. I’m glad that Hill is starting to be a little less tetchy about people knowing he is King’s son. However, a few times his “wink-wink” throwbacks to some of his father’s greatest hits (Cujo, Pet Sematary, Christine) teetered very, very close to too cute. I don’t want “cute” in a horror novel.

It wasn’t until after I read the book that I learned that I probably should have looked for the audio version instead. The entire book was read by none other than Kate Mulgrew. You have no idea how intriguing and frightening this is to me. I feel like I need to experience this story as narrated by Captain Janeway. I will absorb her powers and make a nice Kiev (and if you get that joke, Red’s got a place on her kitchen staff just for you).

Final Verdict: I’m still very much enamored of Hill as a writer, but I definitely did not consider this to be one of his better offerings. Still, if I can get my hands on a copy of Kate Mulgrew reading it? You bet your sweet Cujo I’m gonna give that a whirl.

BookBin2013: Locke & Key 2

~ lobablanca

I can’t believe that it’s been more than a year since Joe Hill welcomed me to Lovecraft. More than a year since I first encountered the Locke family as they began their long emotional journey back from the brutal home invasion in their San Francisco home that left their father murdered and their mother broken in many ways.

It’s been too long. It’s time to catch up on old times, denizens.

lak2-4

That’s right, I recently succumbed to my need to enter a library and binge on whatever I could find of interest…and part of what I found were the next three graphic novels from Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez’s Locke & Key series: Volume 2: Head Games; Volume 3: Crown of Shadows; and Volume 4: Keys to the Kingdom.

More revelations about the truth behind Rendell Locke’s murder as well as his life in Lovecraft. More keys. More secrets. More discoveries. More darkness.

This is a seriously dark story. I would expect nothing less from Hill

BookBin2013: Lucille

~ LobaBlanca

lucille

You might just want to skip this review, denizens, because I’m going to let you know right now: It’s going to be short and unsatisfying.

And, yes, that’s what she said. [ba-dum-tssh]

Ludovic Debeurme’s rather large graphic novel Lucille (I do believe it’s slightly more than 500 pages) is the story of two troubled teenagers

BookBin2013: My Friend Dahmer

~ LobaBlanca

mfd

I confess that I borrowed Derf Backderf’s graphic novel, My Friend Dahmer, from the library for equal parts earnest interest in and morbid curiosity about the early life of Jeffrey Dahmer. For those who don’t know who Dahmer is, he was found guilty of incredibly heinous crimes and sentenced to prison, where he was later slain by a fellow inmate. I don’t really want to go into any more detail than that, simply because I’m willing to bet you already know more than enough about what he did.

What you don’t know is why he did what he did. Neither do I, even after reading this novel. I suppose I didn’t really expect to find any concrete answers. I did expect a bit more insight than what Backderf provided. I think, though, for all his claims that he was doing this project out of a need to explore his past relationship with Dahmer and try to understand what happened that led Dahmer from who Backderf knew in high school to who he became, Backderf simply wasn’t up to the task of providing the “objective” look that he said he wanted to give readers. In fact, even though he claims at the beginning of the novel to want to give a more sympathetic look at the events of Dahmer’s youth that could have led him to commit such horrific acts, he then almost immediately calls Dahmer a monster undeserving of empathy.

For a bit of backstory, “Derf” Backderf (his real name is John) was in the same high school class as Dahmer, ran in the same circle of maligned geeks, nerds, and social misfits

BookBin2013: Walk This Way: The Autobiography of Aerosmith

~ LobaBlanca

wtw_aerosmith

Here it comes, denizens: Finally, the review of the book I have been wading through for more time than I ever expected it to take. However, when you’re trying to read up on the history of one of the longest-lasting (and still-going) hard rock bands in American history…well, it’s going to take a little bit of time.

And so it went with the Aerosmith autobiography Walk This Way. Released in 1997, this “autobiography” is more a running transcript of author Stephen Davis’s extremely long, extremely in-depth conversation with each member of the band, their managers, their producers, their road crew, their wives, their exes, their dealers, their groupies, their pets, their instruments, their cars, their everything.

Okay, not that in-depth. Still, Davis does a fantastic job of capturing every last snortable, injectable, drinkable side of this quintessential hard rock quintet. It’s all there: The beginnings, the early fame, the women, the drugs, the breakup, the drying out, the resurrection, the continuation, the very essence of what makes this band so very…Aerosmith. Two things you will undoubtedly walk away pondering if you read this book will be that: 1) the original band is still together; 2) the original band is still alive.

I already knew that Aerosmith was a heavily drugged band back in the 70s. Honestly, I already knew quite a lot of what the band talked about in this book. I didn’t grow up listening to a lot of current music when I was a kid, so I was way late to the rock bandwagon. It probably explains why I have such eclectic musical preferences. I had a lot of catching up to do. It also might explain why I have a small group of musicians to whom I am rabidly devoted. And Aerosmith? They’re right at the top of this very short list. I’ve written before about how this was pretty much the band that kick-started my journey into popular music, thanks to that saucy video for their song “Dude (Looks Like a Lady).”

From that point on, I was hooked on this group. They were the first band I ever saw in concert (and I count myself incredibly lucky to have seen them when Tyler was still able to do his trademark backflips…without tumbling off the stage into the audience). I have almost every single one of their albums, minus a few bootlegs (unfortunately, yes, I also bought Just Push Play…no one is more saddened by this than me, I can assure you). This is probably the only musical group for which I can actually name every single band member. For years, I devoured everything I could about them. I know all about the Toxic Twins World Tour (and have yet to give up on my search for my own T-shirt), their ups, their downs, their fights, their comebacks…whatever. And I still love them. I always have and I always will.

The one thing that I don’t really love is their history with substance abuse, which this book details to excruciating levels. I know that drugs play an overwhelmingly prevalent part in many creative fields, but especially music. Perhaps drugs help release parts of our creative energy and abilities that we might never explore without their help. Maybe they help slow down the creative flow enough for us to be able to handle it all. Maybe there are other factors there that I have never considered. I don’t know. I do know, however, that each member of Aerosmith nearly killed themselves in one drug- or alcohol-related way or another. Perry ended up having seizures. Kramer, Hamilton, and Whitford all had major auto accidents, and Tyler admits that he lost almost everything, including about 20 years of his life, because he was busy “snorting my car, my plane, my house, and half of Columbia.”

Drugs and alcohol pretty much nearly destroyed the band’s future as well. Their collective relationship is a tumultuous one anyway, which I suppose is not that odd considering it’s five exceptionally talented musicians all vying for their place in the band’s pecking order while trying to write new music, tour, do PR, enjoy their success, keep their success going, while also trying to live life in the two seconds of downtime they get before the cycle starts all over again. However, add cocaine, heroin, crystal meth, booze, pot, Tuinals, and…well, there is a reason why Steven Tyler and Joe Perry were known as the Toxic Twins. The drugs didn’t enhance the creative energies when the group was knee-deep in China white. All the drugs did was exacerbate problems, deepen wounds, increase egos, and speed up the inevitable fallout when Joe Perry left behind his Toxic Twin for his own record deal, and Brad Whitford soon followed him.

Whatever my feelings about drug use might be (and it’s an admittedly muddled one), I’m so glad the group cleaned itself up and came back together, because the end result is what I would consider to be the strongest era of their professional careers. As much as I love so much of their early music (and, I don’t care how cliched many people consider it to be, I still think that Tyler’s “Dream On” is one of the most honest and beautiful songs I have ever heard, and becomes increasingly more poignant the older he gets), to me, quintessential Aerosmith spans from their 1987 release Permanent Vacation through their 1997 release Nine Lives, with their 1989 release Pump being, hands-down, my all-time favorite of their albums. While there are many individual songs from their career that I might select above any of my favorites from this particular album, Pump is the one I choose whenever I want a nice solid, uninterrupted injection of what I consider pure Aerosmith. Plus, I have to give the MTV influence its due once again. The videos for songs from this album also stand as some of my favorites, including the David Fincher-directed video for Tyler’s amazing song “Janie’s Got a Gun.”

Okay, I’ve been fighting the urge to turn this book review into a video and photo gush fest, but I have to leave this here:

//www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/RqQn2ADZE1A

And now that I’ve opened that floodgate, I’m just going to stop now before it gets worse. Just know this: If this rather long-winded review (which hasn’t really been a review…but it has been…kind of like this is an autobiography, but not really) actually piqued your interest in this group rather than made you want to run screaming in the opposite direction, then you might want to give Walk This Way a go. It’s straight from all their mouths, and I kind of get the impression that there wasn’t a whole lot of filtering going on, either on their parts or on Davis’s part. Plus, it’s strewn with photos of the guys pre-Aerosmith, early years, and up to Nine Lives, which is when this book finally concludes. Who doesn’t love photos? Who doesn’t love Aerosmith?

Be very careful how you answer that last question…

Final Verdict: Do you really need to ask this? Here, just enjoy this early photo of Aerosmith instead…

youngaerosmith

BookBin2013: Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void

~ LobaBlanca

Layout 1

I’ve been slowly whittling away on a book from my own collection that has proven to be quite a journey (note that I did not use a pejorative, like “slog” or “ordeal”; it’s been an interesting read, but also a very full read). However, I set this particular book aside for a little while (because, honestly, you need a break from even enjoyable things when they go on for too long) to read the latest book from Mary Roach, Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void.

For those of you who are not familiar with Roach, she’s made a bit of a name for herself by writing “curious” examinations of topics that I assume pique her interest: Gulp: Adventures on the Alimentary Canal, Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex, Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife, and Six Feet Over: Adventures in the Afterlife. I actually received Stiff as a Christmas present from my parents almost 10 years ago (which speaks volumes about: A) how sad my book backlog really is; and B) the types of books that make my dad think of me). After reading Packing for Mars, I’ve made a deal with myself that I really should try to fit Stiff in at some point this year.

Hopefully.

So I’m going to do that cop-out thing again and post the dust jacket description. Really, though, it’s quite a well-written summary, and I always like to give credit when it’s due:

Space is a world devoid of the things we need to live and thrive: air, gravity, hot showers, fresh produce, privacy, beer. Space exploration is in some ways an exploration of what it means to be human. How much can a person give up? How much weirdness can they take? What happens to you when you can

BookBin2013: My Mother Was Nuts

~ LobaBlanca

mmwn

I’ve written before about how certain shows from my youth have stuck with me while certain others leave me feeling not the least bit disturbed that there was a point in which I could stand more than 5 minutes of them without wanting to defenestrate the television. One of the shows that I think still falls in the former category is Laverne & Shirley. Looking back on the show now, I think that it was the characters’ blue collar appeal that initially drew me in, even as a child. I watched the regular antics of these two working-class women and recognized in their struggles with work and money the same struggles that my own family sometimes faced.

With less Booboo Kitty, of course.

In fact, I think it’s safe to say that I consider Laverne DeFazio and Shirley Feeney just as much part of the pantheon of female role models from my youth as Beverly Crusher, Jaime Sommers, Diana Prince, Bonnie Barstow, Jo Polniaczek, and Terry Dolittle, just to name a few.

I’ll get back to that last one in a minute.

I liked them both, but Laverne was my favorite. She always seemed less concerned about etiquette or appearances, a little less genteel, a little more crass, a little quirkier, a little more likely to tell the dirtier jokes and share the better stories over a pizza and a pitcher of beer. Plus, she embroidered all her tops with a giant cursive “L” and drank Pepsi Milk.

Yes, Pepsi Milk. It was a mixture of milk and Pepsi-Cola. I remember drinking these with my grandmother one summer. I don’t know why this sticks in my mind, but it always makes me smile whenever I think of it.

So, what does all this have to do with my latest BookBin entry? My Mother Was Nuts is the autobiography of none other than She Who Was Laverne.

What can I say? If you liked Penny Marshall as Laverne or if you have liked her continued Hollywood career as a director, I would recommend this book to you. It’s funny, straightforward, and incredibly interesting. Suffice it to say, she has led quite a life. Also, Marshall has a wonderful way of being honest without being catty or vindictive. She tells things plainly, saying only what’s important in a refreshingly objective way, and then moves on. She doesn’t try to tear anyone down and she doesn’t try to build herself up…even though, she could if she wanted to.

After all, Marshall was the first woman director to break $100 million at the box office…on only her second directorial outing (not counting those episodes of Laverne & Shirley she directed). She broke the boundary with Big and she repeated this feat with A League of Their Own, one of my absolute favorite movies ever made.

As for my earlier mention of Terry Dolittle, this was Whoopie Goldberg’s character from Marshall’s directorial debut, Jumpin’ Jack Flash, which was one of my earliest Flashback Friday posts. Yes, it was horribly inappropriate for 10-year-old me, but it also showed me that someone quirky and strange and just a little left of center could be awesome. In fact, this is what I wrote of Dolittle:

More than just making me laugh, though, I think at some point in my impressionable young mind, I made the choice that, when I grew up and got a

BookBin2013: Ether

~ lobablanca

ether

My final read from our recent journey was Ben Ehrenreich’s Ether, another City Lights acquisition. Here, first, is the description from the back cover:

A bearded man in a badly soiled suit known only as The Stranger wanders an apocalyptic landscape on the fringes of a dying metropolis, looking for a way to “get back on top.” Thwarted and rejected at every turn by old friends and strangers alike