Time For Some Books

I realize that I keep adding features, but this one looks like it will become a regular one.

I love to read and I read lots. LOTS! If I can't be a published writer then I will read and read and read! Remember, "Great writers read as much was they write." In my case, at least I will have half of the formula down.

Most of the books that I read either get returned to the library or Bookcrossed. Bookcrossing is a website where folks can enter a book's ISBN and then get a unique code for that book (Unique for Bookcrossing's system as ISBN' are unique codes in the first place. Mr. Smartypants.). You then log that book in the system and leave it in a public place with the hope that someone will find it! The finder uses the code to log onto the site and then say where they found it and, later, what they thought of it. Then they release it and the circle continues. It all sounds a lot funner when you read what the actual Bookcrossing site has to say about it.

I bookcross books that I like and dislike. I can like a book, but not enough to let it sit on my self. My bookshelf is actually pretty lean and focused on specific authors more than random books. But I do find these single books that I really enjoy and that I can't bookcross because I want to keep them. I know I will re-read these books even though I might not become the author's groupie. So, when one of these books comes up, I will blog away! Bookcrossing lets you put books in your permanent collection, but I feel the purpose of the site is to release, so permanent collection be damned!


Releases in 1998, Giles Foden's Last King of Scotland has come back into the forefront due to the much-celebrated recent movie of the same name. I have yet to see the movie, but I got this book from my lovely gf, Amanda, because I do want to see it. I hear it is quite good and so is the book.

The book is a historical novel. There never was a Scottish doctor named Nicholas Garrigan who became Idi Amin's personal physician, but there was an Idi Amin and his associates. The novel comes from Foden's 20 years in Africa and incredible research/first-hand interviews into the Amin rule. The historical aspect reads quite well. Foden chooses to present the work as Nicolas' journal from his quasi-exile in the Scottish boonies. This justifies any expository paragraphs that Nicholas inserts for the help of "his" own readers. With historical stories, I tend to prefer those that take a long time to get to the actual history. A writer can focus on the events and forget to create a decent context. Foden paints Uganda here with lengthy descriptions of flora, fauna, food, landscapes, and people. I am a sucker for exposition.

If this book weren't based on so much reality then it would be hilarious! If you replaced Uganda with some made up country (Logo-Pogo or something) and renamed Idi Mufasa Jones then the entire story would make up a great dark comedy. A sort of gallows humor. I could see this version in film too, except it would be a Mel Brooks picture set to songs like "African Kilts" and "Kampala Highlanders." History does some of the writing itself. Idi's self appointed title was, "His Excellency President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea, and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular." I thought "esq." was nice suffix, but that is pure comedy gold. I like how Idi gave himself Aquaman powers with the "fishes of the sea" part. His title re-affirms his charisma. How could you not want to meet a guy that calls himself that!?

Of course, it's all very true. Foden does well at creating Idi's "Instant Stockholm Syndrome Effect." The modern readers knows that Amin murdered about 300,000 people, but we can't help, but smirk at the guy who bursts out of hotel pool on an underwater elevator or wears an orange jump suit (For when Uganda goes to the moon!) to an interview. Or who pushes back his plate saying "Done!" at a state dinner. The man who created a navy in a landlocked country.* During the scenes where its just Idi and Nicolas, the reader doesn't observe, but acually feels the conversation. Even when he takes Nicholas to the torture chambers, Foden keeps up Idi's smooth talking. He is never left speechless, even when challenged by his own horrors. My favorite line in the entire book is when Tanzania has invaded Kampala and forced Idi to run. History shows that he ran to Libya and then lived out the rest of his life in exile. The book portrays this, but first shows how Idi gets out of Uganda. I would like to research the actual historical accuracy of this, but as the Tanzanians come into Kampala, Idi hides in secret underground passage beneath one of his mansions. Nicholas confronts him and Idi says that he is not afraid. He will find some way of the country...

Nicholas: "But how will you get out of the city? It's swarming with Tanzanians. How will you get out of the Lodge?"

Idi: "Doctor Nicholas, you know I am the best commando in the world, and also a master of disguise."

I didn't know that anyone actually used the phrase "master of diguise." I thought it was just that, a phrase, a lot like "rocket scientist" or "bar keep." And you have to keep in mind that Idi was a BIG guy. Best commando? Maybe if you were battling the fourth King of Tonga.

The book was a bit sobering as it revealed that I , like most Americans, know absolutely nothing about Africa. I like to think of myself as a pretty well-educated person. While in college, the African Students club did a study where they asked people to name five countries in Africa. Just five countries. All of this is second hand, but some of the anecdotes were just ludicrous. Most people could barely name one or decided to act like jackasses and provide horrible answers like "Nigger Land." I could name five countries in Africa, and I guess that made me better than the rest, but certainly not enlightened. It's also sad that being able to reiterate a map puts you above others. I don't have any studies to back this up, but I know that no matter how educated I try to sound/be, I am a complete idiot when it comes to African history. I hope I can make up for this and slowly learn more and more.

My only gripe about the book was the journal style. Sometimes it was a bit difficult to figure out whether Nicholas was writing about the past or present. However, this makes for a very minor personal nitpick in an amazing book. I can't wait to see the movie and I hope you can read/see it too!

Peace!

*I only inserted this because the author/book chose to mock Idi on it. Uganda might be landlocked, but it is ridiculously wet. Lakes everywhere, and BIG ones like Lake Victoria to boot. The "source" of the Nile! If I were president I would make some sort of freshwater navy, but I guess it is still a bit silly.

An experiment

If you can access Facebook, well, then, do it. Do it, now! If you can not, then sign up for an account. It's like MySpace except less creepy. Anyway...

Do a group search for the phrase "Green Lantern."

The first group is actually something completely non-comics related, but the third, and biggest GL fan group is quite comics focused. However, the guy spelled the group name..."Green Lanter Corps."

ACK!

The guy who started the group eventually apologizes for the typo and says that the only way to fix it would be to delete the entire group (about 250 folks) and start again. He chooses to stay the courses with the typo.

I am not one to nitpick about typos. This blog is pretty much the typo breeding grounds. And I don't like to offend fellow fans. However, it does diminish the "oomph" of the group when the hero's name is spelled wrongs. Imagine if Batman swung into battle with a pigeon on his chest or if the Flash had a AAA battery on this suit? Exactly.


That is why I joined the second largest GL FB group. :P

Movies I Felt Obliged to See #1

YES! I promised many, many, many weeks ago that I would give Lords of Dogtown the Fear of the Blank Page treatment. I have finally watched the movie and present it to you now in....

Movies I Felt Obliged to See #1

LORDS OF DOGTOWN

First, I got this movie as part of the PSP entertainment pack my lovely gf Amanda gave me. This is why I felt obliged to see it, because it came with the PSP. I must say that while the audio on the PSP for games is great, the audio for movies seems lackluster and tiny. I had the thing at full blast and still could barely make out the dialogue. Still, the PSP kicks ass.

I must also say that I am not a skater. I can't even skate, but my feelings for this movie aren't influenced by my inability to land some serious Tony Hawk shiz-nit. (Also, most of my skater knowledge comes from episodes of the NickToon, Rocket Power, so don't expect anything too incisive hear. My skate knowledge is stuck in 1987.)

You don't need to be a true sports fan to appreciate a sports movie. There is human drama in sports and great sports movies do that. Think of Rocky. There is little human drama in this movie where any story gets ripped apart by the insertion of a skate scene. These scenes, by the way, are great looking, but don't really make up for the difference that I just don't care. That is a shame too since the story talks about how these punk kids revolutionized a sport. I don't need a skateboarding background to understand how skating looks like today is much different from the skating of 30 years ago.

In reading up on the film, I found out this is a fictionalized version of a documentary produced by one of the legendary skaters himself called Dogtown and Z-Boys. I hear that movie is much better and explains the actual story of the skaters. By being a movie first, Lords of Dogtown suffered. Makes sense. If you want to learn about surfing then why watch Blue Crush when you could watch Step Into Liquid.

Overall, Lords of Dogtown always seems overshadowed by its non-fiction counterpart and being that I haven't even seen the latter, it was pretty unexciting. And so is this post. But I got that monkey off my back! Peace!

In Defense of Civil War

Off-topic time, which means comics!

The wonderful thing about the comics blog-o-sphere is that you find one great blog and then you stumble across even better ones. There a lots of little guys trying to break into the serious comics blogging community (myself included), but we can't compare to the great ones. Check out my links page for some of my favorites, even though, the links have been kind of difficult lately. They appear to be broken, but after checking the code everything seems fine. Bah!

The entire comic blog-o-sphere seems to hate the latest Marvel crossover, Civil War. Really quick, the government decides that superheroes need to register and make their identities public if the heroes wish to continue stopping evil. If you decided to side with tradition, "the masks," or personal freedom then you are a criminal. This divides the superhero community in two and shenanigans break loose.

I like Civil War. There I said it. I think I might be one of the few blogs out there that is supportive of Civil War. Again with the Comics is another. Can you think of any other ones? It feels weird to defend Civil War as the comic book fans I know up here in CNY like it. Of course, that is only five guys versus the entire blog-verse!

I will admit that Civil War isn't the best. The political allegory is quite stilted (Trust me, I know a thing or two about stilted stories!) and while the writer, Mark Millar, promised that "no side was right," we all know that the anti-registration side is "right." It has friggin' Captain America on it! He always does the right thing! Meanwhile the pro-registration people have all been portrayed as cruel lapdogs, particularly Iron Man and Reed Richards.

Some say all politics is local. Maybe all Civil War reactions is local too. By local I mean close to your heart. I don't like Iron Man or Reed Richards very much. None of the pro-registration people really gets me going. However, my delightful Daredevil (along with Luke Cage and Iron Fist) are anti-registration. If Daredevil were out there chasing down fellow heroes with S.H.I.E.L.D. goombas then I too would be raving.

I also must admit that the entire event does fly in the face of 40, 50, even 60 years of Marvel continuity. Who knew Tony Stark would be such a jerk? How could they clone a god? Why would superheroes team up with super villians without some truly earth-shattering event happening? You know like Galactus showing up. I am still betting that one of the Watchers will swing down from space and intervene. He will do some crazy Watcher voodoo and set everything back.

Finally, I defend Civil War because I think it is a great idea in theory. Here is something that really could happen. We might not have mutant superheroes, but what if we did have a bunch of caped vigilantes? You know, mortals trained to the utmost perfection? We could have guys like Batman and Captain America, in theory. And the government could regulate them. I do believe that if superpowers were real then the government would have something to say about those with them. Hence, its a lovely idea that could have worked in a separate universe (by this I mean publisher) or even as an Elseworlds/What If? kind of title.

I am not afraid to say that I liked Civil War and eagerly await its conclusion out of pure excitement. It is not perfect, far from it, but I think it is neat.

Peace

Heavy

I just realized that today is February 15th and that is my father's birthday. This isn't very big or exciting news because my father passed away in 1994. I have written a lot about my father. It feels weird to say that because his death, and absence, has never really seemed that emptying. He died when I was 9 and the earliest memories I can remember are from when I was 5 or so. Hence, I really don't remember my father very much. He is an enigma that lives bigger and better in the stories my sister and mother tell.

I like literature that explores the masculine. I find this kind of story hard to find. Sure, there are plenty of stupid masculine stories and magazines. However, stories of bravado and machismo really don't do it much for me. I refuse to think that being masculine means that you are simple and inherently violent. I refuse to think that the highest expression of masculinity out there is Maxim (Oh, do I loathe Maxim!) This is why I like Chuck Palahniuk so much. His first book, Fight Club, talked about boyhood and masculinity. He used the violent stereotypes to question what it meant to be a real modern "man." A man raised by women, which I was. I don't regret being raised by my mother and I really don't, or ever, missed my father. I am sorry if that sounds callous and cruel. I know he was a nice guy, but I never really, really got to see that.

However, I still find myself writing a lot about my father. Here is a series of pieces I wrote about this. They are fictional and written in the style of a grown man writing to his dead father. I am only 22, so these letters are a bit pretentious, but I felt it was appropiate to give them so blog action.

This entry also marks a new blogging perspective for me. I usually try to post original original material here. Hence, I wanted to just hammer out stuff on the computer and not pull something from a journal of mine. I actually write a lot more with pen and paper then this blog would let you know. I realized it would be good of me to actually try and type these pieces out. They will grow as they translate from the page to the blog, and hopefully improve.

Sorry, if this is a bit heavy for anyone that might have stumbled upon my blog or returns to it every so often. I could write another Co-op of Justice piece, if you would like! EH!? Let me know. Peace!

_________________________________

"A Fistful of Letters"
by Garik Charneco

My father, who art in heaven, what is it like to die? You are the best source I know. I sometimes think of the actual act of dying while lying in bed. My wife's breath falls up and down and I reminded of mother's own breath, breaking over my forehead, that night. I imagine an infinite darkness where you lay on a soft cushion. The cushion is made of velvet and usually purple, but sometimes I imagine it red. You lay down on the cushion and you feel warm, like a thick blanket just pulled from the linen closet. Then the blanket sweeps off, but you still feel warm because dozens of hands start to caress you. They feel like silk. They run from head to toe and pull you deeper into the black. There is no deity or light, only away. I would like to know what it is like to die. I am sorry if that makes me selfish.

-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, what college would you have liked me to attend? Only now I realize my own strength and know I would not be lead so easily like my sister. What did you think of the fights me and mom had? Did you laugh when we actually came to blows, her lunging at me with a mop and myself grabbing an umbrella in defense? I grabbed the mop handle after deflecting it with the umbrella. I was fat back then and put all my weight into throwing her back. My elbow came up and knocked her in the chin. Just a tap. Were you horrified? Would you have approved of my direction? Of my major? Of my first job?

-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, did you see my bike accident junior year of college? I learned to ride a bike from Eddie, mom's first boyfriend. I bought one my first summer away from home to get around. I sprung a flat tire after skirting a rock by the reservoir. I was two miles from my apartment. A thunderhead began to develop on the horizon. I began to cry because I had no idea what to do. I made sure no one was around.


-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, please explain to me these lingering memories. They flash in my mind every so often and you seem to be the only connection. Please explain...

• An abandoned miniature golf course.
• A natural blowhole by the sea.
• A leaking canoe filled with snails.
• A latrine in the desert.
• A lemon tree split in two, yet still alive.
• The smell of leather seats.
• A crop of pigeon peas.
  

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, please explain these favors. The last time someone called me "Rafa's Boy" I had returned back home for mom's surgery. Please explain all your old friends to me. The aforementioned was an insurance salesman who said he could help me get a car. While I was back home, taking care of mom, you know. There are men everywhere that owe you favors. Other bankers, business owners, and a farmer too. I have never asked my sister about these, but do they ask her too. I have never pulled these strings. Mom reminds me to call these men every Christmas even though I don't know them and my wife, she can barely pronounce their names.

-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, what did you think when mom sold the house? I didn't really care. It was just a house. I drove by the old neighborhood while visiting the island and saw the Flamboyant* tree you planted right before you died. Mom wanted to cut because she feared its roots would rip up the sidewalks. She had a handyman trim its wild branches back into a gumdrop shape. I went out that night and poured the rest of the blue fertilizer powder you kept in the shed over its hidden roots. It was there when I left home and still there when I visited. It was flowering for, I believe, the first time ever. It's flowers burst against the concrete horizons of the house. They were yellow, a canary color with small flecks of salmon rimming the edges of the bottom petals. I imagine it pregnant with the oar shaped fruits, the ones we turned into swords at school. Grandma always called that tree "male" and that is why it never flowered. It still reminds me of you.

-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, if you can see my house then I am sorry for the lack of any pictures of you. Mom made me keep a tiny picture of you by my besides. It was next to the tiny crucifix she also made me keep.

-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, when mom screamed, "I am glad your father isn't here to see this!" were you glad?

-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, what did you think of my reverse birth idea? I imagine you heard me when the lowered grandma's ashes into the same plot as you. Your daughter gave birth to twin boys. I carried one up to your plot that day and shielded it's head with my hand. It was sunny, a gorgeous day and in the horizon you could see that sea. My sister, your daughter, held her other son and said, "There lies your grandpa too. Watching you from heaven with God and the Holy Ghost." She said this in soft coos. She repeated the refrain to the grandson I held in my hands.

-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, do you laugh when I daydream. Are you disappointed by the lack of sex and the prevalence of power rings? I apologize, but you must have seen those furtive minutes of me masturbating and everything with my girlfriend, fiancee, and wife.

-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, is there a God? Again, you are the best source I know. I always assumed that if there was a God then you would get to ask him or her three questions upon your entrance to the afterlife. I still plan to ask him the same questions. The kind of questions I would have asked you, but on a grander scale, like who really shot JFK?

-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, please verify these stories. They are all I have of you, passed on from grandma, mom, sister, and the rest.

• Did you really steal Grandma's car when you were nine to go see mom?
• Did you really lose 35 pounds in basic training?
• Did you really run across town naked and covered in paint as part of a fraternity initiation?
• Did you have an M.B.A?

-Boy

* * *

My father, who art in heaven, did you really die? I ask because I imagine that your death must have brought something like a rain of yellow flowers to the land. I half-expect to see you someday on the subway or on the street. A lonely man, who still carries himself with great weight and pride. You will speak in an accent, but only because I have one to you. I will come up to you, but then be afraid because you know so much about me and I am writing these letters.

-Boy

__________________________

All we need is for Thursday or the Fray to slap some music onto this and I got the next emo hit!

*To those unfamiliar with PR..."flamboyant tree"

More apologies

Gee...with all the apology posts I do you would think that they would get easier, but they do not. Sorry for not posting at all these past few weeks.

As a blogger, I am a bit conflicted. I got in trouble when I blogged about local issues (my fault) and there are way too many good comics blogs out there to merit another one. Every day I find a new great comic blog and become instantly addicted. If you stumbled across my blog and are also a frequent shadower in the comics blog-o-sphere, then I really suggest trying all those links that folks put up.

Consequently, I just developed a fan-boy crush on SallyP's Green Lantern Butt's FOREVER! I mean, not only is it a comics blog that dicusses the comics I am currently reading, but it is all about GL! Seriously, holy crap! This is why I also like Brian Hughes' Again with the Comics, because every so often he'll defend Civil War (I think there are five people that actually like it) and discuss issues I could actually buy. Dave Campbell and Chris Sims do a great job, but I am never going to get my hands on those Silver-Age Jimmy Olsen mindfucks they skewer.

So I will stick with filling up this little plot of the blog-o-sphere with my creative musings. But I will try to keep the posts coming.

Oh, btw, I still want to review Lords of Dogtown, but it is a pretty low priority. Sorry for all the empty hype. As they say in the movies, "this is development hell."

Peace!