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The Babadook and the Power of Fantasy

June 23, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

The Babadook is not your average horror film.

There’s no gratuitous violence. There aren’t any jump-out scares. No blood. And–thank god–there are no dumb teenagers.

The Babadook is the story of Amelia Vannick (played by Essie Davis), a widow who lives alone with her troubled son, Samuel (Noah Wiseman). Amelia’s husband died on the same day her son was born, and neither of them have been quite right since. One night, Amelia finds a creepy book in her son’s room called Mister Babadook. The horror begins when the creature from the book stalks the family.

It might not sound all that scary from my description, but, trust me, The Babadook will frighten even the most experienced horror junkies. So what does this film do so well?

In a word: juxtaposition.

The Babadook pairs reality with fantasy, depression with home invasion, and suppression with the supernatural. Despite the poster and the synopsis, this film is as much about loss as it is about a monster.

Take writer/director Jennifer Kent’s interpretation of her own film, for instance: “Now, I’m not saying we all want to go and kill our kids, but a lot of women struggle. And it is a very taboo subject, to say that motherhood is anything but a perfect experience for women.”

It certainly isn’t for our main character, Amelia. Her husband died, she works at a job where she’s surrounded by death (a nursing home), and her son Samuel builds homemade weapons in the basement like a troubled little MacGyver. We can tell right from the beginning that the stress wears on her–and that much of her frustration is directed at Samuel.

As the film progresses and the Babadook invades the home, we see Amelia’s aggression heighten. The Babadook, in this case, represents Amelia’s suppressed anger; it’s no coincidence that it chooses to possess her and not her son. You’ve probably seen the moment from the trailer when Samuel shouts over and over, “Don’t let it in!” But his mother lets the Babadook–her anger–take full control, and that’s when things get even worse.

That is the power of fantasy. The Babadook is the personification of Amelia’s negative emotion, and a good one at that; if suppressed anger had a corporeal form, I’d imagine it wouldn’t be too pretty. Amelia sees the Babadook everywhere–in her home, at the police station, in her neighbor’s home. Here, writer/director Jennifer Kent gives us an important clue through the use of fantasy: Amelia can’t escape her negative emotions, no matter where she goes.

One of the coolest parts of the film is the use of montage. Not the kind of montage you see in a romantic comedy–I’m talking Russian filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein’s theory of film montage. Basically, the idea is that if you constantly show two images together in sequence, you can give both images a new, greater meaning. For example, if you show an image of a crying baby followed by an image of the grim reaper, you’ve given greater meaning to both images: you’re indicating that that baby might die, or you’re showing the passage of life, from the cradle to the grave.

Montage is a type of juxtaposition, and Kent uses it extensively with the Babadook and Amelia’s depression. We often see images of Amelia and the Babadook mirrored–Amelia holds a steak knife and the Babadook has knifelike fingers, for instance. Eventually, the real image and the fantastical one combine, and both transcend their original meaning: they represent a mother’s wish to kill her son.

The ending, to me, is the most intriguing part of the whole film. Amelia confronts the Babadook, and in doing so, she confronts the anger she feels toward her son and the depression she feels regarding her husband’s death. But, interestingly enough, that doesn’t actually kill the creature. The Babadook lives in the basement, chained up and weakened, but still alive. Amelia goes down to feed it, and the film ends.

What does this mean? Well, it’s certainly not the sort of happy ending we might expect. If we look back to classic works of horror, we see the recurring use of the subterranean to represent the subconscious (Lovecraft and Poe use this form of symbolism a fair bit). When you see people going down into the earth, it’s as if they’re traveling to a suppressed, secret part of the psyche.

Amelia’s basement serves the same role–she hides her negative emotions down in her subconscious mind, where they can’t hurt her or her son any more. For a while, at least…

You don’t need violence and blood to be frightening, and I think The Babadook proves that beyond a doubt. In this age of senseless violence and gratuitous gore, I was very happy to find a film that focuses on psychology rather than shock value. Writer/director Jennifer Kent uses fantasy to frighten us in a way that reality never could.

So if you decide to watch, I suggest doing it on a weekend. You probably won’t be getting any sleep.

Like creepy stories? You might enjoy horror story “Sightings.” It’s about a reporter tracking an angelic creature that brings with it a mysterious plague.

Podcasts for Writers

May 25, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

Being a writer can be really lonely. In fact, the great Neil Gaiman recently compared writing to death, so that says a lot about the process. When you spend your time in a room by yourself, it can be tough to avoid the feeling that you’re all alone.

Sorry. That got really sad, really fast.

Anyway, if you’re a writer and you’re feeling lonely or maybe even a little dead, try listening to a writing podcast. Nobody writes in a vacuum, so it’s encouraging to hear what great writers are doing, what’s going on in the industry, and how you can improve.

These are three of my personal favorites, and, since I’m a bit of a nerd, they’re mostly oriented for a speculative fiction enthusiast. It is known.

The Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy

This is probably my favorite podcast to date. Hosted by writer David Barr Kirtley, the Geek’s Guide has amazing guests each and every week. Just to name a few: George R.R. Martin, Philip Pullman, Margaret Atwood, Chuck Palahniuk, Neal Stephenson, Ursula K. Le Guin, David Cronenberg, and Felecia Day.

Kirtley’s also an excellent host. An accomplished short fiction writer, he knows his stuff when it comes to fantasy, science fiction, and geek culture in general. One of his best moments as a host is episode 145 with Kazuo Ishiguro. At the end of the initial interview, Ishiguro turns the tables and interviews Kirtley on all things speculative fiction. These are two very smart guys going back and forth on where speculative fiction fits into literature and why it’s not always accepted by the mainstream. It’s a very cool moment.

Speculate!

Speculate! was my introduction to writing podcasts, and a good one at that. Hosts Brad Beaulieu and Greg Wilson work very well together on the air and they’re definitely knowledgable on the subject. While they don’t get quite the same number of high-profile guests as Geek’s Guide, their show is still pretty awesome. And, even if you haven’t heard of everyone on the show, it’s always nice to discover someone new.

Every once in a while, they also do roundtable discussions on particular books. These are great for writers because the hosts break down the author’s style, analyze entire passages, and even talk with the authors themselves. If you’re looking for in-depth writing discussion, you’ve found your podcast.

Writing Excuses

Though I’ve listened to this one the least among the three, I like it a lot already. Hosted by Mary Robinette Kowal, Brandon Sanderson, Howard Tayler, and Dan Wells, each episode is a fun and insightful fifteen minutes. That’s right–where Geeks’ Guide and Speculate! run about an hour, Writing Excuses episodes go for just a quarter of that time.

The official tagline of the podcast explains the runtime: “Fifteen minutes long, because you’re in a hurry, and we’re not that smart.” They’re pretty darn smart, though. They cover any topic a writer could think of, from agents to outlining to world building to critiquing. Each episode ends with a writing prompt too, which is fun when you’re looking for ideas, which is, like, always.

In conclusion…

Podcasts are really cool. The ones listed above are excellent resources for information on the publishing world, the speculative fiction climate, and just about anything to do with writing. They’re perfect for those days when you need a little inspiration. Plus, they’re free. And you don’t have to be a writer to love free stuff.

Go listen!

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P.S. Does anyone know of any other good podcasts for writers? I’m always looking, so if there are any you particularly like, please let me know!

Getting Rejections is Like Eating Vegetables

May 18, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

I apologize in advance to vegans, vegetarians, and anyone who actually likes vegetables.

“I don’t like green food.”

That’s me, age seven or so. This was my go-to excuse for avoiding peas, lettuce, cucumbers, celery, cabbage, and Brussels sprouts–especially Brussels sprouts. The only vegetables I’d eat were tomatoes, and I’ve just recently learned that they’re not even vegetables–they’re technically fruit. (I still don’t believe this.)

So, yeah. When I was a kid, I did not like vegetables.

As I grew older, though, I understood why my parents gave me the veggie treatment. They’re not the flashiest, sexiest food out there, they don’t leave you with the sugar-high of a chocolate chip cookie, but vegetables have the nutrients and nourishment everyone needs to stay healthy.

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I received a rejection letter today. It was from an online magazine which I’d carefully selected, one that seemed to be a perfect landing place for the short story I was shopping. “Hundredfingers” is the name of that story. It’s only about 2,500 words, yet from first draft to last, I’d estimate I’ve spent over twenty hours on this piece.

Here’s a paraphrase of what I got in return:

Thank you for submitting to our magazine. Unfortunately, we won’t be publishing your piece. Thank you for your time, and we hope you submit again soon.

That was my rejection letter, which is essentially the same rejection letter every other magazine offers.

So, yeah. I do not like rejections.

But for writers, getting rejected really is like eating your vegetables. How else would you grow? How else would you become the thriving, successful writer you’ll be in ten years? Rejections might leave a bad taste in your mouth–but they’ll make you stronger than you’ve ever been.

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When I was a senior in college, I thought I was going to be a pro writer in no time. I’d been writing a thousand words a day, I’d been getting excellent feedback on my creative work in class, and I had a short story that was the greatest thing since Sandkings (truth: it wasn’t that good).

I spent the next six months of my life shopping this story around. I went to all the big markets: F&SF, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Apex, Lightspeed. I was expecting a heavily-frosted layer cake from these magazines, one with the words “Congratulations, we’d love to publish you’re story!” written in blue icing.

I didn’t get a cake. I got brussels sprouts.

At first, I was devastated. I questioned whether I should be writing at all. Was I good enough? Did anyone but me care about my work? Why was I even doing this?

It took about six months for me to come to terms with my rejection, but when I did, I realized how awesome it really was. Because I actually looked back at my story, this time through a critical lens, and I found glaring hole after glaring hole. I fixed them, I gathered feedback from friends, family, and my Editor-in-Chief (my girlfriend), and I made changes. Big changes. I sent my story out again.

Three months later, I received an email. My short story had been accepted for publication.

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Rejection is tough to swallow. It’s tough to spend hours and days of your life on a piece, to fall in love with your characters and pour over that one sentence that just doesn’t sound right. It’s so tough to work so hard, only to receive a generic rejection three months later.

But it’s necessary.

Because if you’re a writer, a real writer, all those rejections will only make you want it more. If all you ate was ice cream every day, it wouldn’t be much of a treat. Likewise, if every piece you wrote was published every time, you’d lose the fire you need to keep writing that next one. That better one.

So don’t stop eating your vegetables. Don’t stop getting rejected. I promise I’ll keep doing it as long as you do.

But not brussels sprouts. Never brussels sprouts.

Why “American Gods” is My Favorite Novel Ever

May 4, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

You know that desert island question, the one about only having three things to bring with you until you’re rescued? I’m going with food, water, and American Gods.

Written by Neil Gaiman in 2001, American Gods is a picaresque Americana mashup of various genres and world religions. A war is brewing between old gods and new, gods of the ancient world and gods of technology. Caught in the middle of it all is Shadow, a stoic man just released from prison. Shadow soon meets the enigmatic Mr. Wednesday, and together, they explore a very different side of America.

American Gods has everything I love in a novel: vivid characters, memorable settings, an element of fantasy, humor, wit, stories within stories. Gaiman is a master of fascination; he captures our interest and never lets go. It’s the kind of book that only comes along once in a lifetime. I’m just glad it came along during mine!

The thesis of the novel, if you will, is simply brilliant. The old gods are your standard ancient pantheon of deities: Odin, Czernobog, Anansi, Anubis, Easter. The new gods, on the other hand, are those that we really do worship today, whether or not we realize it–gods of computers, cell phones, television, cars, and capitalism. The novel was written in 2001, but it’s amazing to see how relevant it remains 14 years later. In fact, I think the themes addressed in American Gods are even more relevant now than they were when the book was originally published.

American Gods contains an incredible amount of detail and subtext within its pages, much of which probably won’t be properly synthesized until after you do a little research on your own. It’s a potpourri of Norse, Egyptian, Arabic, Hebrew, and German mythology, with a dash of American folklore. Shadow meets so many gods and goddesses in his travels that you might not even notice who’s divine and who isn’t.

Of all the various settings in American Gods, the sleepy town of Lakeside is my favorite. Located up near the great lakes, it’s an insular community filled with its own cast of unique characters. There’s Hinzelmann, an old man with as many stories as he has years under his belt; Chad Mulligan, the friendly chief of police in the town; Marguerite Olsen, a cold but intelligent writer for Lakeside’s newspaper. The town itself is almost like another setting within the setting of America. But, of course, not everything in Lakeside is as it seems…

I’ve read a lot of fantasy, and one of the qualities I like best about American Gods is that it’s grounded in reality. That’s a weird thing to say about a fantasy novel, I’ll admit, but it’s true. The entire story feels completely authentic; there’s almost no need to even suspend disbelief. Gaiman presents his characters so convincingly that you can read the book and say, “Yeah, I’m willing to believe that there are gods in the world. Why not?”

American Gods is my favorite novel because it’s smart, insightful, entertaining, and eminently interesting. It’s one of those books that’s unlike any other, one that you’ll read once and compare everything else you read to it.

Do yourself a favor and buy the nearest copy.

My Recent Experience Without Internet

April 6, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

Last week, my girlfriend Sara and I were watching some sweet NCAA action when our Internet decided to take a snooze. We did a lot of screaming, and then pouting, maybe a little crying. Finally, we just gave up and went to bed.

For the next few days, the signal continually and sporadically came in and out, which got pretty annoying while I was trying to send emails. I grabbed my trusty iPhone and called up customer support (because when one piece of technology isn’t functioning, you should always use another. And they say Terminator will never be reality…)

The representative on the other end informed me, of course, that our Internet was working just fine. “Also, it says here that you’re eligible for a free account upgrade for no extra charge. Would you like me to go ahead and get you started on that?” I thought it was odd to start a sales pitch after a customer complaint, but I guess I admired his persistence. Still, the answer was no.

I got off the phone, and I looked out my window with newfound wonder. It was like when Neo took the red pill in the The Matrix. No longer did I have to be plugged in all the time, keeping track of short story submissions or the NCAA Basketball Tournament or who’s being eaten on The Walking Dead. For once, I could spend a Sunday doing something other than web surfing.

But, disappointingly, the first thing I did was go for my computer.

Oh well. I guess old habits die hard. But, without Wikipedia and MagicTheGathering.com on hand, I instead went straight to Scrivener and opened up my latest project. Sure, I was still on the computer, still worshipping the Apple God, but at least I was writing and not wasting time. In fact, I think I did some of my best writing in recent memory.

Afterward, I really did put down the ol’ computer and picked up a book. Sara and I always read before bed, but sometimes we don’t have enough time, or we’re too tired, or we elect to watch that extra episode on Netflix instead. We read for hours, though, and it was really awesome. (If you haven’t checked out George R.R. Martin’s Dreamsongs collections, please stop reading this article, go down to your nearest bookstore, purchase it, and read it. If you purchase an eBook copy, shame on you–you’ve missed the entire point of this blog.)

I’m thankful for the Internet. I’m thankful that there’s a place on there for my fiction, which I will now unabashedly hyperlink here. I’m thankful that I can get news stories and see what my friends are doing in real-time, and watch videos of Nicolas Cage threatening to kill old ladies. The internet is an awesome thing.

But unplugging (sort of) for a while allows you to cut down on all those inane distractions. Don’t get me wrong–I’m not on my way to Walden Pond anytime soon. It’s just that we don’t always need to be connected to the net.

And now the Internet’s back and stronger than ever (five little semi-circle Wi-Fi waves, baby), and I’m sure I’ll be back to looking up pirates and Elder Dragon Highlander decks.

But I’m glad I had the experience, at least for a little while, of existing without the internet. And next time I sit down to write, I might even be so bold as to shut the Wi-Fi off altogether.

Just don’t quote me on that, though…

“Whiplash” and Writing a Good Villain

March 23, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

I somehow made it through awards season without seeing many of the Academy Award Nominated films. Maybe I’ve been playing too much Fire Emblem: Awakening with the shades drawn. Anyway, I’ve gradually started to see more of them. Last night, Whiplash became the latest.

The film stars Miles Teller as Andrew Neiman, an ambitious jazz drummer at a competitive music conservatory, and J.K. Simmons as Terence Fletcher, an emotionally abusive music teacher. The film centers on the relationship between Neiman and Fletcher, examining Neiman’s thirst for greatness that is only swollen by Fletcher’s search for extraordinary talent.

Though Teller delivers an excellent performance, Simmons really steals the show (I mean, he did win the Oscar). Anyone can yell and scream obscenities, but Simmons balances those scenes with kind, almost touching moments of humanity. In one scene, for example, Neiman glimpses his teacher meeting with a friend and his daughter backstage before a show. Fletcher says to his friend’s daughter, “I’m so sorry, can I have your autograph?” And then later, “What do you say, you ready for Carnegie Hall?” It’s not said with the biting sarcasm he uses elsewhere in the film, though; it’s a surprisingly sweet scene.

Simmons’s Terence Fletcher is certainly a villain; there’s no questioning that. But, like any truly good villain, he’s still a person.

There’s another telling scene toward the end of the film in which Fletcher reveals his teaching style to Neiman. He says, “…it’s about pushing people beyond what’s expected of them. And I believe that is a necessity. Because without it you’re depriving the world of its next Armstrong. Its next Parker.” And then comes the line that probably encapsulates the character best: “There are no two words more harmful in the entire English language than ‘good job.'”

It’s an amazing scene because Fletcher justifies his aggressive teaching style. And though we as the audience probably didn’t understand him before (when he was slapping students, hurling chairs at them, and forcing them to play into the late hours of the morning), we might understand him now. This is the mark of an excellent fictional villain: one who commits reprehensible acts, yet reasonably justifies her/his actions.

Now I don’t want to diss the classic evil dude archetype. The Anton Chigurhs, Saurons, and Freddy Kruegers of film and literature are often just as awesome as their more rounded counterparts. But that sort of villain is seen less and less in modern stories. Filmgoers and readers seem far more interested in villains like Terence Fletcher, speaking generally. Guys like The Joker, Jaime Lannister, and Hans Landa are popular villains for a reason. It’s because people seem to be looking for villains with well-rounded psychologies and compelling motives for their evil acts.

Whiplash certainly doesn’t pass judgment on Fletcher’s actions either way. In fact, at the end of the film, Neiman does become Fletcher’s greatest student.

And when the villain helps the hero achieve his dreams, you’ve got to admit…that’s a new (and pretty cool) kind of villain.

What Does the Adapter Owe to the Source Material?

March 2, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

Martin Luther King Jr.

“Do you love me?”

You might not remember this scene from Ava DuVerney’s Selma, but it certainly stuck with me. Coretta Scott King (played by Carmen Ejogo) confronts her husband, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (played by David Oyelowo) with this very question. King responds with a quick, “Yes.”

“Do you love any of the others?” Coretta asks. Dr. King’s eyes bounce around the room nervously, and a painfully long silence passes before he croaks, “No.” Coretta leaves the room, and the scene ends.

It’s a powerful moment that’s well-acted on both sides. But what really struck me about that scene, and really most of the film, was this: how much of it is actually accurate to history?

There have been plenty of articles written on this very subject, many of which express disappointment over “historical inaccuracies” in the film. A lot of people are specifically upset about the depiction of President Lyndon B. Johnson. For context, in Selma, Johnson (played by Tom Wilkinson) is portrayed as a mostly unwilling participant in the equal rights movement, preferring instead to focus upon other issues and push King’s agenda back to the following year. Joseph A. Califano Jr., Johnson’s Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare, claimed that the filmmakers felt “free to fill the screen with falsehoods, immune from any responsibility to the dead, just because they thought it made for a better story.”

I agree with Mr. Califano in one respect at least. It did make for a better story.

When it comes to adaptations of any kind, many people seem to be so preoccupied with what happened. It seems like every historical fiction film or novel that comes out has people complaining that it’s not accurate, or that the artist changed too much. But that’s what it’s called historical fiction. As Vladimir Nabokov wrote in his afterword to Lolita, “It is childish to study a work of fiction in order to gain information about a country or about a social class or about the author.” In other words, don’t consume fiction and expect to learn any facts about anything.

Let’s say Selma did not portray the King/Johnson relationship with such strong conflict. Let’s imagine a film in which Johnson is fully on board with Dr. King’s plans. That’s a story without conflict, and, without conflict, you don’t have much of a story.

I suppose I understand why people close to the issue might be so upset. Indeed, there’s sometimes a certain presumptive quality to a piece of historical fiction, an unspoken suggestion that this was the way it really happened. But writer/director Ava DuVerney addressed the topic thusly, and I couldn’t agree more: “[Selma is] not a documentary. I’m not a historian. I’m a storyteller.”

Indeed, Selma is not a documentary. It is historical fiction. Perhaps we should remember that fiction is meant to entertain, to tell a compelling story, to make the audience think, and to make the audience feel. Even if a work of fiction is based on real-life occurrences, the artists allegiance should not lie with absolute truth; it should lie with the story.

What Ever Happened to the Guitar?

February 16, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

After watching the latest Superbowl halftime show starring Katy Perry and her dancing shark pals, a single question occurred to me: what ever happened to the guitar?

The instrument still exists. However, you’ll remember that there was no backing band at the halftime show, and therefore no guitarist. In popular music in general, the guitar seems to be an afterthought. And even the tracks that do use guitar lack that certain style of playing, that self-indulgent five minute solo in the middle of the song, that boundless vocabulary that seems able to touch on each and every emotion one can feel.

In the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s, the guitar was in its prime. Guys like Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, and Jimmy Page were pioneering the sound that later guitarists would aspire to. These guys spoke through their instruments, weaving stories for the ear. There was Clapton’s voyage into unknown seas in “Tales of Brave Ulysses,” Hendrix’s trio of rousing solos in “All Along the Watchtower,” and Page’s ascension to the titular kingdom in “Stairway to Heaven.” When played by a master, there is no other instrument that can make the listener feel with such depth.

But what happened to all the masters?

Certainly, there are still guitar gods alive and well. Clapton and Page are still around, Metallica’s Kirk Hammett still plays a nasty axe, and there are numerous others beside. However, all of these artists made their names decades ago. Back then, they were the most popular acts. Nowadays, though still popular, their songs aren’t really top-chart hits.

The most popular artists of today are the Katy Perrys, the Lady Gagas, and the Adeles of the world. All are talented in their own ways, but they and the other top attractions of today are missing the guitar that so heavily influenced music in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s.

I’m not saying that rock music or music with guitar solos is a superior form of artistic expression. (Well, I kind of do think that, but I’m trying to be objective here.) I’m just pointing out the fact that around the turn of the century, the guitar seemed to vanish from popular music, in favor of pre-recorded beats and electronic synthesizers.

So where did the guitar go?

It’s hard to say. I think that the decline of the instrument is due in large part to the purpose of modern popular music. Of course, music’s pretty much always been made to dance to–but especially now, popular songs are written to be club anthems. The top hits are usually between two and four minutes, have a constant and repetitive beat, and feature lyrics about–you guessed it–partying.

Will we ever see the likes of Page, Clapton, and Hendrix again? Time will tell, I suppose. For now, I think I’ll stick with my vinyl and keep the radio off.

Winter Book Recommendations

February 1, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

Here in Colorado, we got about six inches of snow last night. And when we get snowfall like that, there’s nothing I like better than to sit down with a book about…well, snow. Don’t ask me why.

So what winter books might I revisit this winter? I’ll give you a quick rundown here.

American Gods by Neil Gaiman

It’s a case of old gods versus new gods in this 21st century classic. Shadow, a man just released from prison, has his world turned upside down when he finds out that his wife is dead. When it seems he has nothing, he has a chance (or maybe not) meeting with the enigmatic Mr. Wednesday. Together, they begin to assemble the players for the ultimate battle: new gods against old.

One of my absolute favorites. Widely regarded as Neil Gaiman’s finest work, American Gods is thoughtful, creative, and still timely, even though it was written more than a decade ago. It’s dense with memorable characters and settings, and the writing is clever and elegant. It’s so damn American, in fact, that you’d think that the author grew up someplace in the U.S. Though Mr. Gaiman lives in American now, he is in fact British.

A Dance with Dragons by George R.R. Martin

Okay, so this one doesn’t always have snow. The setting shifts from tons of snow beyond the wall, to lots on the wall, to a decent amount around Winterfell, to pretty much none across the Narrow Sea and in the South (until the epilogue, that is). Also, the next installment in this series, entitled The Winds of Winter, obviously promises even more snow.

I’m listening to this one on audiobook for the second time and enjoying every moment. Some people have criticized the exalted Mr. George R.R. Martin for broadening his scope too much and taking too long to write his books. Some have even whined that he might die before finishing his series. I’ll let George speak for himself on that score…

Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. No matter what you might think of this book, you’ve got to admit that there’s a heck of a lot of snow falling in the Seven Kingdoms. There are even two characters named Snow (Jon and Ramsay) to go along with the regular ol’ fluffy stuff.

Ghost Story by Peter Straub

This one isn’t necessarily my all time favorite horror novel, but it still deserves a spot on the list. It’s sufficiently creepy and atmospheric, and once the snow starts falling, the freakiness is only heightened. Plus, it turns that idyllic peaceful winter image on its head. Definitely an awesome book to read if you’re looking for a creepy winter’s tale. I wrote a review for it a while back if you’re interested. (Ironically, I read Ghost Story some time in July, when the only snow around was the icy buildup in the corners of my freezer.)

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What are your favorite winter books? Feel free to mention them in the comments. Until then, stay warm!

China Mieville’s “Kraken” is Delightfully Undefinable

January 17, 2015 / Kyle A. Massa

Like most of his novels, China Mieville’s Kraken defies easy explanation. Here’s the plot in a nutshell: someone steals a giant squid specimen from the British Museum of Natural History. It’s up to museum employee and supposed squid prophet Billy Harrow to find it. Though no one agrees on who stole the squid, everyone agrees that if it’s not recovered quickly, the world will end.

Sound weird? It is. That’s what makes it so awesome.

Besides Kraken, the only other Mieville novel I’ve had the pleasure of reading is King Rat. The two are similar in terms of the author’s seemingly effortless ability to churn out unique ideas. Like King Rat, Kraken uses the London setting in a completely original way, presenting it as an urban war- zone disputed by numerous supernatural organizations. I think of it almost like a gangster movie, except that the gangsters in this particular story are a sentient tattoo, a pair of psychopaths who share a single heart, and a man who comes back to life as ink. The more you read, the more weird–and therefore awesome–things get.

The scope of Kraken is far greater than that of King Rat, which inevitably leads to some confusing moments. The climax especially is a bit murky, introducing a lot of new elements and strangeness, all very suddenly. I had to read it back over a few times, just to make sure I understood what was going on. But, for those who have patience, you’ll find a satisfying and exhilarating final few moments.

Though the novel weighs in at 500+ pages, there’s never a dull moment. It’s an impressive feat on the part of Mr. Mieville, especially considering that he’s juggling quite a large cast of characters, all representing different sides in the conflict. There’s no classic good versus evil struggle in Kraken. Rather, the conflict is more of an intentionally obfuscated mess of not-so-bad, not-so-good, and downright psychotic fantasy characters.

Or, in other words, a whole lot of fun.

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If you’re looking for a fantasy/sci-fi/new weird/thriller/dark comedy novel from one of the most creative authors around, Kraken very well might be your book.

Rating: 9/10

Kyle A. Massa