Night Watch (Haiku Review), by Terry Pratchett

Time is out of joint
Sam Vimes gets stuck in the past
Still does his duty

Babylon 5: The Lost Tales

As you continue on your path, you will lose some friends and gain some new ones. The process is painful, but often necessary. They will change and you will change, because life is change. From time to time, they must find their own way and that way may not be yours. Enjoy them for what they are and remember them for what they were.

— John Sheridan, Babylon 5, “Objects at Rest”

Not only is life change, but the passage of time brings change to all things. Not terribly profound, I know, but relevant to Babylon 5: The Lost Tales. This direct to DVD feature includes two short stories set ten years after the founding of the Interstellar Alliance, in the time between “Objects at Rest” and the series finale “Sleeping in Light.”

The first story concerns a case of the apparent demonic possession of a B5 crew member, and station commander Colonel Elizabeth Lochley’s (Tracy Scoggins) summoning of a priest from Earth to perform an exorcism.

The second lost tale recounts President John Sheridan’s (Bruce Boxleitner) return to B5 for a ceremony marking the tenth anniversary of the establishment of the ISA, and the burden of life and death laid on him by the Technomage Galen (Peter Woodward).

The first story is the weaker of the two. The musings on religion — and faith — among the stars feels like an interesting science fiction idea grafted onto the Babylon 5 framework rather than a story native to the established universe. Structurally, it’s divorced from Babylon 5 aside from taking place on the station and featuring the Lochley character, neither of which are essential elements of the story. Beyond that, it’s a largely static story, a conversation between Lochley and the priest, interspersed with confrontations with the “possessed” crewman. The Babylon 5 series features plenty of conversations about a whole range of big ideas, and many of them work. The essential ingredient to making this story effective is a level of energy that’s unfortunately lacking in this case.

The second lost tale turns on the classic conundrum of the morality of killing someone currently blameless if doing so might save countless lives in the future. It’s the “If you could go back in time and kill the infant Adolph Hitler if by doing so you know you would prevent World War Two, would you do it?” thought experiment. To use a different science fiction metaphor, it’s the ol’ Edith Keeler question from the classic Star Trek episode “City on the Edge of Forever.” In the story, Galen shows Sheridan a vision of future destruction, and tells him that killing a young man will prevent the war that gives rise to that destruction. The story turns on Sheridan’s decision.

In this case, the big idea is meatier, and Sheridan’s response draws more directly on what Babylon 5 is all about. At the same time, while the moral question is real, writer, director, and Babylon 5 creator J. Michael Straczynski can’t help stacking the deck in Sheridan’s favor.

This return to the Babylon 5 universe was like a much-anticipated visit from an old friend you haven’t seen in a long time. Initially, it is exciting, and comfortable, and reminds you of the good time you shared. In this case, the familiar music swelled, and the familiar faces flashed across the screen, and I was able to remember how this show grew on me, and how invested I became in these characters. Sure, the faces are showing some age (but whose isn’t?). Seeing the past and the present side by side can be jarring — in this case, I couldn’t help but be thrown by the fact that the computer generated color palette of the Babylon 5 station was off; the blue of the station wasn’t the same blue used in the series. But all in all, it was, initially, a welcome reunion.

Gradually, though (or not so gradually, as this feature only ran for 72 minutes, including credits), time spent with old friends not only reminds you of the things you love about them, but also of the things that drive you up a goddamn tree. In the case of the Babylon 5 universe, this includes things like being too clever by half, being overly verbose, and indulging in an almost treacly sentimentality. Against an epic backdrop, with the fate of the galaxy hanging in the balance, or the life of a much beloved character at stake, these…limitations can become assets. In stories as small, and personal, and divorced from everything that came before as these two lost tales, they just serve as reminders that nostlagia tends to idealize.

As with all such reunions, getting together with old friends/characters also points out the empty spaces around you shaped like the friends who aren’t part of the reunion. The Lost Tales stories focus on Sheridan, and Lochley (and Galen, who was part of the Crusade spinoff, and not properly part of the old gang; a friend of a friend crashing the union, to further torture an already well-abused metaphor). While the characters reference other series regulars, these passing mentions largely reminded me that I always found Garibaldi, and Londo, and Vir much more interesting characters than the ostensible series leads.

And then, much as I missed the characters, their absence made me wonder why the actors weren’t part of the stories? Budget constraints? Lack of interest? Too busy? These ruminations interrupted the flow of the narrative and brought me out of the story.

The one place where this storytelling device works for me is in the reference to the characters of G’Kar and Doctor Franklin, played respectively — and always respectably — by the late actors Andreas Katsulas and Richard Biggs. The in-story tribute to the them is touching, despite feeling forced from a script perspective. The bonus feature memorials to the actors are quite nice as well.

And so, while I tried to enjoy Babylon 5: The Lost Tales for what it is, the DVD served as a powerful reminder of what Babylon 5 was, and that change often creates distance, even among old friends.

Powers Scriptbook, by Brian Michael Bendis, with illustrations by Michael Avon Oeming

I read and enjoyed the comic book series Powers for the first couple of years of its run. I gradually lost interest in it. This should not be taken as any reflection on the quality of the series, but rather an indication of how my attitude — or perhaps it’s more accurate to say my level of investment — toward comics has evolved over the past decade. I’ve become more subjectively discriminating. If a particular storyline no longer grabs my attention, I’m more willing than I used to be to put aside a series for a few issues or a few years than I am to ride out the storyline. Should I decide I missed out on something along the way, well that’s what trade reprints are for, you know?

At the time I was reading Powers regularly, I enjoyed it enough to invest in the collateral materials, like the coloring book, and the Powers Scriptbook. I bought the scriptbook five or six years ago, and it sat on my bookshelf, or in a box of books ever since. When I was reading the issues, I never really had to motivation to reread them in script form, and then once I dropped the series I just never got around to it until recently.

It’s an interesting way to approach the story. The script format provides an effective contrast to the comic books story. It also serves as a blueprint for the collaboration between Mr. Bendis and Mr. Oeming. In particular, it demonstrates the degree to which Mr. Bendis is an extremely visual writer. I suspect he’s hardly unique in this among comics writers, but the level of detail and precision he indicates for certain of his panels, pages, and scenes. There are also places where he directs Mr. Oeming to…indulge himself.

As someone who likes The Process(tm), I found a lot to enjoy in these scripts. As someone who is fanatical about spelling and grammar in published work, I found the rough and unedited content of the scripts variously distracting and frustrating. I recognize that there is a different standard for script work, which represents the story in its preliminary form just as rough pencils and sketches are less polished than finished art, but I still wanted to go through the damn book with a red pen.

Billion Dollar Kiss, by Jeffrey Stepakoff

Billion Dollar Kiss recounts Jeffrey Stepakoff’s experiences as a television writer. It’s not exactly a how-to manual so much as a “How I did it” manual. He uses his experiences to explain both the process of writing for television–from breaking in to being an established property–and the evolution of the business of television over the past 20 years.

I don’t understand

I borrowed the following text from CNN, but the story originated with the Associated Press and was widely reported today:

One in four adults say they read no books at all in the past year, according to an Associated Press-Ipsos poll released Tuesday.

Not one book? In a year? Really? That right there? My definition of hell.

I freely admit that I’m obsessive-compulsive about reading. When it comes to books, if I’m not working on at least three of them at the same time, I begin to feel deeply uncomfortable. On the rare occasions when I hit a dry spell, and I’m spinning my wheels starting and stopping book after book without being able to make any headway, I feel out of balance. When that happens, I usually just (re)prime the pump by going back to reread a favorite book, and that gets me out of my slump. But to go a whole year and never read a book? That’s a wholly alien concept to me.

American Born Chinese, by Gene Yang

This is a beautiful piece of work.

It’s funny, and exciting, and sad, and embarrassing, and moving, at times touching two or more of these bases at the same time. American Born Chinese tells three stories that end up interlocking, all of them tied togehter by the themes of pride and humility, tradition and assimilation.

Gene Yang uses Chinese mythology — specifically stories about the legendary character The Monkey King — realistic narrative, and stylized cultural stereotypes to tell his story. In doing so, he taps into the often overlooked potential of the comic book form. American Born Chinese is a reminder that the combination of words and images is incredibly powerful.

The Simpsons Movie (2007)

At the risk of getting all Comic Book Guy on the matter:

I will not make a movie without a good story to tell.
I will not make a movie without a good story to tell.
I will not make a movie without a good story to tell.
I will not make a movie without a good story to tell.
I will not make a movie without a good story to tell.

I was deeply disappointed in The Simpsons Movie. It wasn’t bad so much as flat. For every laugh out loud moment there were two moments that felt recycled and downright tired.

Homer’s selfishness and thoughtlessness almost dooms his marriage? Been there.

Bart rejects Homer in favor of a stronger father figure or more positive role model? Done that.

The Simpsons acquire a new/unusual pet? Do the names Santa’s Little Helper, Stampy, Laddie, or Mojo mean anything to you?

The Simpson have to escape Springfield one step ahead of a person/group? All this plotline did was make me wonder where the hell Sideshow Bob was. They have the opportnity to tell the quote ultimate unquote Simpsons story, and they leave out Bob? For shame!*

Homer is dragged into a spiritual/vision quest in order to find the clarity/redemption he need to do the right thing? It was funnier when Johnny Cash was his spirit guide.

A Simpsons movie should have been epic. Granted, if you look to the box office returns, it didn’t need to be epic to get the job done, but without a good reason, why make the transition from television to film? Don’t get me wrong; seeing Homer and Marge and all of the rest of Springfield rendered in a richer color palate with a sharper resolution was nice and all, but the results just scream “wasted potential” to me.

For that matter, President freakin’ Schwarzenegger? Why? Did the producers think audiences wouldn’t be able to infer the connection between the Governator’s Springfield doppelganger Ranier Wolfcastle and the real thing? Was this supposed to be some kind of half-assed attempt to plant the seed for the constitutional amendment required to pave the way for a Schwarzenegger presidency? Curse you and your manipulative perfidy, Rupert Murdoch!

Financial Peace, by Dave Ramsey

A solid general-interest financial self-help book. I found it a useful reality check, and a valuable touchstone for thinking about the general state of my personal/family finances.

It’s a self-help book, so it’s fairly basic. It’s also a bit on the preachy side, as Mr. Ramsey comes at the issue of finances, and financial peace, from a decidedly Christian perspective. And, like most authors of this type of book, Mr. Ramsey relies on repetition to get his point across and to build up the gravitas that comes with solid page count.

Bonus: Mr. Ramsey is featured in the documentary Maxxed Out, a stark and sobering assessment of the current state of the American household finance union.

The Woods, by Harlan Coben

This is a fairly standard “sins of the past return to complicate the present, and old secrets come back to bite all manner of people in the ass” thriller. Harlan Coben happens to write such books well, to draw in the reader and engage them with the story. His plots are standard/repetitive, and rely a bit too much on the Agatha Christie-style conveniently-timed late book revelation (although Mr. Coben’s world is a much darker — or perhaps it’s better to say less politely dark — place than Dame Agatha’s) but they are largely enjoyable.

Challenge met

With my entry about Soon I Will Be Invincible, I completed the 50 Book Challenge for 2007. In doing so, I learned that I’m just about the worst possible person to take this challenge.

The idea behind the 50 Book Challenge is reasonably simple: read 50 books over the course of a calendar year, and keep a record of each book you read. I believe that for those of a more social disposition, there are sites where you can be part of a collective 50 book experience, the better to mark progress, support other readers, and get interesting reading suggestions from one’s fellow 50 Bookers.

Simple enough as it goes. Unfortunately, I discovered over the course of the project that I’m too self-competitive and obsessive-compulsive for this to be any fun at all for me. I’ve found that when I do the 50 Book thing, the destination — crossing the 50 book finish line as quickly as possible (for a value of “possible” that allows for having a life, taking time to reread the occasional book I don’t choose to log, and otherwise pretenting that I’m not completely without a sense of perspective) — becomes more important than the journey. Reading becomes just another chore I need to complete, instead of a pleasure, a diversion, or simply another way to keep my mind engaged.

So why not stop? Why bother to keep up with the challenge once it is apparent that it’s not fulfilling its intended goal?

What, are you kidding me? Leave the task unfinished? Are you some kind of crazy person? Of course I had to finish the job.

And now I’m done, with a good portion of the year, and plenty of books, left ahead of me. Having established the habit of writing a little something about each book I read over the course of the year, I see no reason to abandon that pursuit now. Indeed, I see a small benefit to continuing to do so. From here on, though, I’ll no longer be a slave to the tally. Any books I read from this point forward won’t have to carry a number. I don’t have to prove to anyone — myself included — how many books I could read if I allowed myself to continue on the path I followed up to this point. It’s no longer fun, and while there are times when principle is reason enough to do a thing, I see no reason for this to be one of those times.

So, as they say, the time has come to declare victory and move on. I suspect I’ll enjoy the next book I read all the more for not having the self-imposed pressure to meet an arbitrary goal reading over my shoulder the entire time. Or, to put it more succinctly…

…The End

50. Soon I Will Be Invincible, by Austin Grossman

This is a fun book. Not a great book, necessarily, but a damn fun book. It helps to be conversant with a broad range of superhero lore, but the general story should be reasonably accessible — if a bit less fun — without that specialized knowledge.

Doctor Impossible, the villainous protagonist (which is not the same as an antagonist) is a pure comic book archetype. He’s three parts Lex Luthor, one part Doctor Doom, one part The Flash’s Rogues’ Gallery, with just a dash of Charlie Brown (technically a comic strip rather than a comic book character, but, hey, they’re practically in the same sequential art zip code, so work with me here, willya?) sprinkled over the top. He’s likeably evil, undeniably brilliant — something he wastes no pains reminding the reader at every turn — and more than a little bit pathetic. If he can’t have acceptance, then at least he’ll get plenty of attention.

Fatale, the novel’s heroic co-narrator, is the weaker character. Where Doctor Impossible is busy enacting his latest scheme for world domination, Fatale, a novice member of the latest incarnation of the world’s greatest super team, is far more reactive. Throughout most of the book she’s a witness rather than a player, serving as a viewpoint into the world of the superheroes. That is to say the things she sees, and the perspective she brings to them, are by and large more interesting than most of the things Fatale herself does. This allows Mr. Grossman to find amusing new angles on stock characters (the impetus behind that Batman-analogue character’s obsessive nature, for example, is logical, once you think about it).

Of course the action builds to the inevitable climax in the villain’s lair. While the execution of the story is reasonably predictable (including a late story revelation about one character’s true origin which was telegraphed Mr. Grossman has enough familiarity with and respect for the conventions he’s employing to leaven that predictability with a level of energy that makes the story fast-paced and engaging.

Curse of the WanVino

I was given a bottle of Manny Being Merlot the other day. My aunt bought one of each bottle of the Longball Vineyards wines launched as charity projects by Manny Ramirez (the aforementioned Manny Being Merlot), Curt Schilling (Schilling Schardonnay), and Tim Wakefield (CaberKnuckle) of the Boston Red Sox, and offered them to my mother and sister during a recent visit. My sister claimed the Caberknuckle, the LV variety I was most interested to try, based in no small part on the review of the project by the noted culinary luminaries at Sports Illustrated (as noted in the issue I leafed through recently at The Greatest Barbershop in Berkshire County). My mother offered me a choice between the merlot and the (s)chardonnay. Intending no disrespect to Mr. Schilling, but given that my philosophy of white wine states that I’d sooner be beaten to death with an unopened bottle than drink the contents therein, I opted for the Merlot.

Here’s what the marketing copy has to say about Manny Being Merlot:

2005 Merlot, Lontue Valley, Chile

This estate-grown, hand-crafted merlot shows a deep red color with aromas of black pepper and ripe red fruit. The velvety and spicy finish matches perfectly with grilled meats, pastas and pizza.

And here are the tasting notes from the Bart Modern Test Kitchen:

Rubbing alcohol laced with Liquid Smoke(tm).

This is a thin and astringent wine. While The Lovely Wife claimed she detected the promised black pepper aroma, I will note that this wine is not so much spicy as throat searing. To the degree its finish is velvety, it accomplishes this in a way designed to mask the inevitable and proverbial iron fist around which this velvet has been wrapped.

In the end of course, no one should be under any illusion they’re getting something for their twelve bucks that would make Robert Parker stand up and take notice. That’s not the point, of course. The point of Longball Vineyards is to make some money for the charities sponsored by the participating Red Sox players. So, in the case of Manny Being Merlot, my aunt’s investment (or about 75% of it, according to the marketing materials) is going to support CHARLEE Homes for Children, a Miami-based charity “that provides therapeutic, residential, and supportive services to abused, abandoned, and neglected children within a safe environment in a community-based continuum of care.” I’m not entirely sure what that last part means, but it sounds like something I can get behind.

49. Ant Farm, by Simon Rich

Jon Stewart says this book is “Hilarious!” Look, it’s right there on the cover!

Who the @#$% am I to argue with Jon Stewart? I might suggest a difference of degree, but I can’t deny that this is a funny book. Some of the pieces are stronger than others, and some fall flat, whether by virtue of a lame concept or a weak execution. That’s the nature of comedy, of course. It’s never a purely objective pursuit.

First piece in the book is arguably the best, but there are several others that approach its level of…all right, I’ll say it…hilarity.

More Cookin’ with The Kid

Necessity is the mother of invention, and The Lovely Wife is, apparently, the mother of necessity. On the walk home from Natural Bridge State Park, and faced with the dreary and mundane prospect of a dinner of baked pork chops, brown rice, and steamed broccoli, she challenged us to come up with a more interesting, but still palatable, meal. No shrinking violets we, The Kid and I rose to the occasion. We scoured the fridge and the pantry, and came up with the following tastiness:

Pantry Pork Soup
(As developed by Bart Modern and The Kid, August 5, 2007)
————————

1T sun dried tomato oil
1T olive oil
1/2 t chili powder
1 medium onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, chopped, diced, pressed, or sliced, as you see fit
2-3 T oil packed sun dried tomatoes, chopped
2 medium carrots, sliced lengthwise and chopped into 2-quarter thick half moons
2 center cut pork loin chops, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
(Note: chicken would work just as well, I suspect, although it would require changing the name of the dish)
1 can black beans, drained
1 quart chicken stock (I like the stuff from Pacific) [One quart makes a fairly thick, stew-like soup, as the noodles absorb a fair amount of the liquid. For something brothier, add 1/2 quarts, or pre-cook the noodles.]
5 oz (1/2 package small egg noodles)

Bonus level: ***Secret Ingredient*** — if you should happen to have the remains, say 1/3 to 1/3 cup of a truly excellent homemade ragu bolognese kicking around the fridge, why not add that to the recipe? It certainly didn’t hurt in our case. Got a can of white beans in the pantry instead of black beans? Shine on you crazy dinner makin’ diamond! Want to make it truly vegetarian by using tofu instead of pork? Go for it! Improvise! Innovate!

Heat the oils in a medium-sized stockpot set on medium high heat. Add the chili powder, stir for a few seconds. Saute the onions for 3-4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until they just start to take on some color.

Add the garlic and the sun dried tomatoes, and saute 1 minute. Add carrots and saute 1-2 minutes.

Add the pork cubes, and season with salt and pepper. Cook about 3-5 minutes, or until the pork is no longer pink on the outside. Add your ***Secret Ingredient*** at this point. When the pork is ready, add the drained black beans, and stir to combine.

Pour in the chicken stock, reduce heat to medium, and simmer for 15 minutes. Add the noodles, and simmer an additional 10 minutes. Season to taste and serve.

The Kid was integral to both the creation and the preparation of this dish. As long as she’s interested in learning her way around the kitchen, I’m thrilled to act as her guide. Except in the area of baking. That’s her mother’s area of expertise.

48. The Hot Kid, by Elmore Leonard

A prequel, of sorts, to Up in Honey’s Room, this one focused on Deputy U.S. Marshall Carl Webster, and the beginning of his career. Given that Webster is the son of Virgil Webster, protagonist of Leonard’s Cuba Libre, this creates an interesting historical continuum among these characters and their stories. The book is rambling at times, repetitive in other places, and paced well enough to carry you over these rough patches.

47. Coronado, by Dennis Lehane

Dennis Lehane has the ability to wield the English language like a blunt instrument, and with laser-like precision, both at the same time. This collection of stories — and one play — chronicles people thwarted in the act of becoming, or forced to endure beyond the loss of the source of their life’s meaning, or defined by what and who they aren’t. It’s painful to witness, but in Mr. Lehane’s hands these characters come by their pain so authentically that the reader has an obligation to bear witness.

On a personal level, the collection also serves as a painful reminder that should I live to be two hundred, and should I write two thousand books, I could never hope to create anything with the force and impact of any one of Mr. Lehane’s sentences.