Recently, I’ve noticed a trend in fiction, including among authors I admire. It works like this: The protagonist and company have a plan that’s going to lead to the novel’s climactic scene, and they discuss the plan, but we don’t get to hear it. The reason for this device, presumably, is to surprise us when the plan is executed, but here’s what makes it especially problematic: The discussion of the plan doesn’t happen “off screen.” Instead, it’s perched right there in the middle of an otherwise packed scene, its place held by a little line that read something like “They discussed it, and everyone agreed.” And then the action of…
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A Few Notes on The Ballad of Buster Scruggs
Tonight, just under the wire between 2018 and 2019, my wife and I got to watch The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, the Cohen Brothers’ latest flick. Once I’ve had some time to think about it, I’m sure I’ll write a more detailed review, but for now the short of it is I enjoyed it. Here are a few stray, spoiler-free observations: -This film has many messages for us, not the least being the importance of antibiotics, hot running water, and laundry detergent. -I’ll watch anything featuring Stephen Root and/or Tim Blake Nelson. -I now realize Tom Waits and Nick Nolte could easily play grizzled old twins. This needs to happen.…
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Self-Centeredness
Today, I’ve been thinking about self-centeredness, specifically my own. If you don’t know me, I need to point out that when I talk about personality deficits, they’re usually my own. It’s not that I don’t see shortcoming in others, but since those are outside my control—and usually none of my business—I don’t bring them up in conversation. Anyway, here’s what I was thinking. Most of the things I’d like to change about myself—impatience, pessimism, anxiety, procrastination, anger, dealing with disappointment—trace themselves back to me placing my own needs in front of others’. I’m not saying I’m a narcissist, at least no more so than the average person. Bear with me…
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Dealing with Disappointment
Today, I went to the gym. It was a good visit, fifteen minutes on the bike and fifteen on the treadmill. At any rate, I walked out of the gym coughing, which I always count as a success, never mind what I’m coughing up in the first place. Now I’m thinking about my mental health in 2019. Don’t get me wrong–I’m not trying to sound ominous. Really, I just mean my overall sense of well-being, which, if I’m honest, varies from day to day. Some days I feel positive and optimistic, while others I get a little down and pessimistic. Part of this, I think, comes from my childhood and…
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The Astounding Genius of Jeff Lynne, the Real Mr. Blue Sky
It may not have seemed so at the time, but 1977 was a good year for me. I was twelve years old, and even though I didn’t realize it, I was a pre-teen sponge. I absorbed everything around me. Unbeknownst to my parents, I’d read Stephen King’s then two-year-old novel Salem’s Lot (sorry, Mom), which has simultaneously scared the bejeezus out of me and started an itch to create my own stories as a writer. That was also the year of Star Wars, which made me want to be a space cowboy. 1977 was a year of killer music, too. Though it would be a while before I could truly…
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The Fear of Doing One Thing
Earlier today, I decided to sit down and dig back into a cool science fiction book I’ve been trying to finish. Then I remembered I hadn’t written anything in a couple of days. A few minutes later, I realized I could stand to spend some time going through emails that had come in over the holiday break. A snack would be nice, too, I thought, seeing as breakfast was by then only a distant memory. Which of those things did I end up doing? Not even one of them. Instead of devoting some of my free time to recreation, I spent it deliberating which activities I didn’t want to do,…
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The Power of Complaining
This has been a terrible year. Don’t get me wrong. Every year is terrible in its own way—and each one always seems like it’s upping the ante from the previous one—but this year is one for the books. Not only is idiocy running rampant, it’s being lauded as wisdom and truth. Scumbaggery and smug self-righteousness are the orders of the day, while decency and thoughtfulness are on the fast track out of town. Social media helps us forget to take time to live actual lives. People can’t have conversations without bursting blood vessels in their brains, and that’s when they’re talking to people who agree with them. If you have…
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(Not) Watching the World End: Bird Box
Last night, I skipped everything already sitting in my incredibly long Netflix queue and watched the new science-fiction/horror/apocalyptic/Sandra Bullock-in-a-blindfold flick Bird Box. Most of the reviews I’d read of it were favorable, and the negative takes seemed a little fussy for my tastes. The trailer was promising, and it seemed like something I’d enjoy. Here’s the basic premise: People around the world have started committing suicide, and no one knows why. Right away, we’re thrown into the point-of-view of the shockingly pregnant Malorie (Bullock), who falls in with a group of survivors sheltering in a spacious, well-furnished house owned by a guy named Greg (BD Wong). In short order, we…
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SyFy’s Nightflyers: Good Horror, Good Sci-Fi
I finally finished SyFy’s Nightflyers tonight. Don’t mistake this one for a “slasher in space” series. Everything I’d heard or read suggested that, but it turned out to be much more. I’d be okay if the story ended with episode ten, but I really hope they make another season. A+
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Have Yourself a Very Troubling Christmas
It’s that time of year again. During the holidays, we gather with family, friends, and pets. We hang out with folks we haven’t seen since last year, don sweaters that have inexplicably shrunk over the past eleven months, and eat and drink like we have no sense of propriety. The end of the calendar year is also packed with a lineup of Christmas-themed movies and television specials. By their final acts, most of these programs will leave you feeling warm and optimistic about humanity, but it’s easy to miss some of the more disturbing undertones and subplots. Kris Kringle drops the ball in The Year Without a Santa Claus, Frosty…
