Scott William Foley

Maps and Legends was both a real pleasure and incredibly insightful in a multitude of ways. 

This nonfiction book by Michael Chabon, author of Wonderboys and the Pulitzer Prize-winning The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, offers a variety of essays that will assuredly please all readers.

That’s not to say that all readers will love each and every one of the essays in this book, though.  However, I know there is something for everyone to appreciate and even learn from in Maps and Legends.

Chabon essentially covers four broad topics in this collection.  He expends great energy discussing trends and personalities in comic books, the art of writing, various aspects of literature, and his own diverse influences and personal background.

Since these are four topics that I’m very interested in as well, I loved almost every single essay. 

Chabon is such an interesting man.  The idea that a Pulitzer Prize-winning author takes the time to lament the death of Will Eisner, acknowledge the brilliance of Howard Chaykin, analyze McCarthy’s The Road, and reveal deeply personal secrets (some even real) from his own life all within one collection, it’s just a pure joy for someone like me to experience.

However, I think the most valuable thing I learned from Chabon in his book is that the term “genre” in literature is not a naughty word.  He analyzes the importance of genre, especially in relation to the short story, and disparages the fact that people’s snobbery towards genre is actively executing the short story.

Furthermore, Chabon is utterly transparent in the essays involving his life, so transparent he even reveals he has lied to us and could be lying at any given moment.  That sort of honesty about deception is a breath of fresh air.

If you’re a fan of comic books, the art of writing, or Michael Chabon himself, I really encourage you to give this book a try.  I think you’ll be pleased with what you read.

So now that we have a baby girl arriving in a few days, Kristen and I are looking for new and innovative ways to save money.

One of the best ways for me to personally save us a few dollars is to cut down on my book buying.  Apparently there’s this facility in most towns known as a “library.”  Now, you’ll have to ask a librarian for sure, but my understanding is they’ll let you take books home for free if you have proof of residency.

I decided to put this “library” to the test.

Today Kristen and I went to the Bloomington Public Library.  We got our Normal Public Library cards yesterday, and we were told the BPL would honor our NPL card, and indeed they did.

You’ll need to know that I did my research on the contents of each library.  I’ve got a few authors that I read regularly, but they’re not what really cost a lot of money.  Depending on the size of the book, it usually takes me at least two weeks to get through a novel, sometimes longer.  Couple that with the fact I bought most of my novels used through Amazon.com, well, we were talking about six bones a book, tops.

No, what really cost the dough were my graphic novel inclinations.  (For those of you who are losing out, graphic novels are typically collected editions of ongoing comic book series or collections of limited series.  Sometimes they’re one-shot releases.)  Most graphic novels cost at least eight dollars used at Amazon, and when you couple that with shipping, well, you’re not really saving money by that point, are you?  Plus, it’s hard to take a chance on anything new when you’re paying that amount.

So before we went to our local Bloomington-Normal libraries, I perused their catalogues to see if they have my favorite literary authors, but also to see if they have any graphic novels I’d like to check out.  (Pun totally intended.  Lame, I know, but I can’t help myself.  It’s a sickness.)

Long story short, they had oodles of both.  I have to admit, though, BPL beat out the Normal Library in terms of graphic novel selection.  I saw several titles at the BPL I wanted to try out.

So today, we were registering with the BPL at their front desk and filling out simple paperwork. 

As they were about to set us free, I asked, “How long can we keep a book?” 

They replied, “Normally, you can keep a book for three weeks.” 

“Awesome!  And how many books can we check out at a time?”

I couldn’t believe my ears when they said, “We can’t let you take more than fifty at a time.”

Swuh-heet!

I saw several novels I’ll check out over the coming months once I finish my Chabon book I just bought (favorite author, had to pay for my own copy), but I did walk out with several graphic novels such as Gaiman’s The Eternals, Ellis’ Nextwave: Agents of H.A.T.E., Azzarellos’ 100 Bullets Volume I, and Sandman Mystery Theatre: Sleep of Reason.  These are titles I always wanted to try but was never willing to buy.

In summation: Libraries rock!  Go visit yours!*

*Unless, of course, you’re interested in one of my books.  You’ll then want to BUY those, preferably directly from me using PayPal at http://www.myspace.com/scottwilliamfoley :)

As the title would suggest, this is a work of postmodernism at its purest.  However, that’s not necessarily always a good thing.  Dave Eggers presents a book that is a series of contradictions.  As the title sarcastically notifies, it is sometimes heartbreaking, and it is also sometimes the work of genius.  Consequently, the title also reeks of narcissism and “gimmick,” to which it is equally guilty.

To summarize, Eggers details the death of his parents and then his struggle to raise his much younger brother while attempting to start and maintain a magazine and land a role on The Real World.  But the book is so much more than that.  While labeled fiction, he makes no bones about the fact it is almost entirely autobiographical.

When Eggers is being authentic, the book is beautiful.  When he’s writing from the heart, blending his neurosis and experimental metacognition with events in an ingenuous manner, the book really is a joy to read.  There are sincere moments of hilarity, love, sadness, tension, and drama.  Eggers also readily exposes flaws in his character and without pause-flaws we all have but may not reveal so candidly to the world.  Unfortunately, my copy has 437 pages, and I’d say only about 230 of those are written in such sincere fashion.

The rest of the book is pure gimmick, and Eggers makes a point to admit this in a long-winded and agitating series of prefaces.  These sections of the book really irritated me due to their completely self-absorbed shtick and superfluous nature.  Eggers is pushing the envelope, and I can appreciate that, but in the instances it doesn’t work, it DOESN’T work.  We’re all familiar with the saying, “You’re trying too hard.”  Eggers falls victim to this temptation for much of the book.

There’s nothing wrong with presenting yourself egocentrically, for the majority of us are self-centered.  I admire Eggers for frankly and humorously divulging his many personality quirks.  I respect the blunt style chronicling his family’s struggles.  And when it worked, I learned a great deal about metacognition and how to execute it well.  Unfortunately, I also discovered the failings of “trying too hard” and giving into the lures of gimmick.

For some reason, and I don’t know why, I had it in my head that Angela’s Ashes was about Frank McCourt and his brothers returning to Ireland as adults and fumbling about as they tried to decide how to dispose of their cremated mother’s ashes.

It’s not.

Angela’s Ashes is actually a memoir essentially detailing Frank McCourt’s life from the age of three through nineteen. 

Born into a life of poverty, McCourt’s immigrant parents decide to return to Ireland.  Unfortunately, conditions are actually worse for them in Ireland.  Add to the equation that McCourt’s father is an alcoholic who thinks nothing of drinking away what little money they come across while his family starves … well, the book gets more than a little depressing.

And that’s the real magic of McCourt’s writing.  For as awful as things are (and they get pretty awful), McCourt’s wicked sense of humor has you laughing at things that shouldn’t be the least bit funny.  I actually felt guilty at times as I couldn’t help but chuckle at McCourt’s description or use of dialogue.

Make no mistake, however, like in his memoir Teacher Man, McCourt does not try to deceive us into thinking he’s the hero of the story.  He’s tough on everyone, but he’s toughest on himself.  He reports to us misdeeds and lewd thoughts that most of us would never dream of sharing, and that sort of honesty is quite refreshing.

Though funny, the book was also so disturbing (especially McCourt’s father) that I really wanted to get through it as fast as I could.  I absolutely appreciate both McCourt’s humor and charismatic writing, but I won’t lie to you and say this was one of my favorite reads.  But, life is hard and disturbing for many people, and my perspective of the world improved thanks to the Pulitzer Prize winning Angela’s Ashes.

Remember when you were eight years old and digging through a junk drawer in your bedroom only to discover a five dollar bill you’d hidden a few years before?

I just had the book-lover’s equivalent of that.

Kristen (my wife) and I are in the process of getting the house ready for our little daughter.  As we were clearing out rooms and moving furniture and selling odds and ends deemed unnecessary, I came across a bunch of Kristen’s old books from college.  I started looking through them to determine if they will go on a bookshelf or into storage (for I can never sell or toss a book, though I’ve been known to occasionally give them away), and guess what happened?

I found the equivalent of an eight year old’s five dollar bill.

Amongst Kristen’s old books rested a pristine paperback copy of Dave Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.  It’s one of those books I’ve always wanted to read, but because our funds are limited, always chose something else to buy instead.  Imagine my delight at finding a free book I’ve always wanted hiding away in a drawer!

It made my day.

Living under the shadow of Sandman and American Gods, Gaiman has difficulty impressing me with other works because those two are so utterly superb. 

Anansi Boys is an unfortunate example of just such a case. 

It tells the story of Fat Charlie, the son of the trickster god Anansi.  Early on in the story his father dies, and Fat Charlie finds himself more relieved than anything.  Fat Charlie’s life continues on with the dull routine most of us suffer, until his long-lost brother appears at his doorstep.  From that moment on, Fat Charlie’s fiancée, job, sanity, and freedom are put in jeopardy.

Anansi Boys begins rather slowly and takes its time establishing the main characters’ traits-perhaps too much time.  However, once the book gets rolling about three-quarters of the way through, it moves very quickly and becomes a bit of a nail-biter.

I wouldn’t consider Anansi Boys one of Gaiman’s must-reads, but it also isn’t something I’d say you should avoid.

As you may know, Zach Snyder released “first look” photographs of all the major characters from Watchmen but Dr. Manhattan.  If you haven’t seen them, you can check them out here:

http://forum.newsarama.com/showthread.php?t=149166

My first reaction to the photographs was that they are full of style.  Zach Snyder, the man responsible for the theatric interpretation of 300, excels at style, and he is obviously bringing that panache to his adaptation of Watchmen. 

However, mention the word “style,” and “substance” automatically follows.  Some accuse Snyder of having no substance based upon his previous work, and some even state that he will utterly fail at bringing the substance of Moore’s seminal Watchmen to the silver screen.

My contention, though, is that movies based upon literature (and Watchmen is literature in every sense of the word) rarely capture the pure “substance” of the source material.  Watchmen was a product of a political and commercial era that has come and gone.  Even if Snyder were the most gifted of directors, I’m not certain he could convey the substance of the source material because it has become so much more than just a simple “comic book” to fans, creators, and the comic book industry as a whole. 

Could anyone truly recreate such an iconic work?  Could any moviemaker honestly take a twelve-issue maxi-series full of nuances and metaphor, and trim it down to a one hundred and twenty minute movie-a movie geared towards a mainstream audience?

Listen, I really, truly hope Snyder does Watchmen justice, but I think it’s naïve to ask the man to create a literal translation of everything the original series encapsulates.  We are fortunate that we’ve read the original!  We’ve experienced the magic and importance of it!  For us, Snyder is simply bringing an interpretation, an adaptation.  It doesn’t mean the original could disappear if Snyder doesn’t do well.

If anything, I hope Snyder brings the adrenaline and style of 300 to Watchmen and that inspires people who normally wouldn’t read comic books to seek out Moore’s brilliant creation and immerse themselves in the sublime substance of the source material.  I would love to sit with my friends who don’t usually read comics and discover they’d read Watchmen because of the movie.  That’s better than them never reading it at all, right?

Moore’s Watchmen deserves mainstream attention by society in general, and especially by the critics and scholars.  It literally changed an industry and influenced today’s greatest creators in a multitude of genres.  If Snyder can capture even a smidgeon of Watchmen and do it justice, if he can thrill people with the characters Moore made so utterly captivating, if he can dazzle us with visuals so incredible, perhaps people will feel compelled to read the real thing.

Snyder will not give us an exact replication of Moore’s Watchmen, but he will give us his translation of it, and I say we wait and see how it turns out.  The worse that can happen is it flops and disappoints comic book fans.  The alternative is that it wakes the world up to a book that deserves credit by all lovers of literature, not just the comic book fans.

It takes style to get people’s attention, and judging from Snyder’s photographs, whether you love them or hate them, you have to admit he’s on his way to capturing the world’s attention.

The Kindly Ones encompasses the direct consequences of the earlier volume, Brief Lives.  In Brief Lives, Lord Morpheus (Dream) changes, for better or for worse.  The actions that lead to such change must have ramifications, and The Kindly Ones details such repercussions.

In The Kindly Ones, Lyta Hall, a character who has made sporadic appearances throughout The Sandman series, is convinced that Dream has stolen her baby, Daniel.  She goes to the women known as the Kindly Ones for vengeance, and even she couldn’t predict the outcome.

Making use of virtually every character in The Sandman mythos, The Kindly Ones is a truly epic tale that brings us to a point in Dream’s existence that would seem, based upon Brief Lives, inevitable.  At times The Kindly Ones gets a bit muddled and verbose, but in the end, it was all worth it.    

I’ve had the privilege of reading The Sandman series in completion and for the first time in the last few months, and The Kindly Ones is testament to the genius of Neil Gaiman.  I don’t know if it was on purpose or a happy accident, but The Kindly Ones makes use of virtually every storyline preceding it and concludes such a mammoth story … it’s nearly unimaginable someone could dream up such a story.

My only suggestion: skip the introduction and read it after you finish The Kindly Ones.  It does reveal a fairly major plot point, which, upon retrospect seems obvious, but even so, I would have liked to have avoided the introduction’s cataclysmic revelation.

The first volume of what’s known as The Border Trilogy, All the Pretty Horses encompasses what I love about McCarthy’s writing.

Set in the late Forties, All the Pretty Horses follows teenage Texan John Grady Cole seeking a better life for himself in Mexico.  He travels by horse with his slightly older friend, Rawlins, and on the way down they join up with a very young teenager named Blevins.  They can tell Blevins is trouble, and he causes them more problems than they ever could have imagined.  But John also finds some danger without the help of Blevins, and it involves the daughter of his new ranch boss that he just can’t quit.

McCarthy offers a bit more descriptive narration than I care for in this work, slowing it down at times, but his tight-lipped, capable, honorable, humble, and just plain tough John Grady Cole represents what I enjoy most about McCarthy’s creations.  John Grady Cole is the perfect McCarthy protagonist, and this neo-western perfectly conveys all that it means to be human—love, loss, betrayal, redemption, loyalty, and resolve.

It is with great anticipation I look forward to completing The Border Trilogy.

Hi, there.  I was going to try to put this delicately, but let’s not mince words.  I need a solid.  See, I’ve got this serialized story over at Amazon.com.  It’s called Dr. Nekros: The Tragedian and it’s the first part in what will ultimately be an eighteen part series. 

I know people have been buying it, and that’s awesome.  I get to follow its sales rankings, so it’s not doing too badly, and I really appreciate everyone’s support.  But, it’s been proven that products at Amazon.com that have been rated and reviewed tend to do a little better than those that haven’t.

That’s where you come in (I hope).  If you’ve read Dr. Nekros: The Tragedian, I would appreciate it so much if you would take a minute and give it a quick review.  Just a few sentences, a short paragraph.  Heck, even if you hated it, something is better than nothing, right?  Don’t get me wrong, though, I like those positive reviews.

So, that’s the favor I’m asking of you.  I hope it’s not too much, and I really can’t offer anything more than my gratitude.  As always, your support of my dream means the world to me.

You can find Dr. Nekros: The Tragedian by clicking here, then scroll a ways down to a button that says “create your own review.”  After that, sky’s the limit.

Thanks,

Scott