The books on my desk

Forgive the mess and my excess use of my newly purchased digital camera, with which I'm in love. I decided to shed some light in to my personality by showing you which books are on my desk at the moment. They are:

• The Huffington Post Complete Guide to Blogging
  
• MLA Handbook Sixth Edition
• Problogger
  
• The New New Journalism
• Reading Like a Writer
• The Scene Book
• Lolita
• The Things They Carried
• The Starving Artist's Survival Guide
• The Pocket Muse
• The Lost Soul Companion
• The Elements of Style

Both Lolita and The Things They Carried will always have a home on my desk. Huffington Post and Problogger, on the other hand, are current reads and might find their way to the appointed shelf once I'm done with them.

Tonight, I'm going book hunting Gut Symmetries by Jeannette Winterson. I hope to find a(n) used copy of the book as I would rather not pay full price for something I'm unsure I'd like. My partner in crime/hunt will be Jerry.

Return of the pen

From A Book Hunter's Journal

So I've taken up writing again. The hiatus was killing me. Reading too much and not writing will do that. Actually, I haven't exactly not writing. If you're reading this, you can attest to this. And in order to better myself with writing, I bought myself a camera. I don't know why I bought it, really. I guess I just wanted it.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

Growing Up: A Look on the Adaptation of "The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys" by Chris Fuhrman

I'm with you on this one, Chuck. When it comes to adaptations I used to be like most of you who complained how it wasn't faithful to the novel or short story or graphic novel or whatever creative medium it spawned from. However, after years of reading books and watching movies - especially the adaptations of said books - I've come to realize that movies should offer something new, a stand alone.

When I first watched The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys back when it was first released on DVD, I enjoyed the film. Later - possibly after the movie ended due to the credits or through the back of the box - I learned that the movie was based on a novel by Chris Fuhrman - I should say only novel by Fuhrman. Needless to say - as I've already mentioned it in my "review" (see "I Was A Catholic Teenage Rebel"), I purchased the novel only picking it up recently.

The images from the movie were vague in my head. I remembered faintly how the story ended - I won't give spoilers here because I hate when others do that - but for the most part, I couldn't connect point A to point B so reading the novel was a new experience for me. Now I've popped in the movie once again, reviving not only nostalgic memories of the movies - not necessarily the events in the film - and why I loved it so much the first time I watched it.

The actors were stellar with the parts given; it was the storyline that nearly left me upset. There was no way that the novel was taken a part so horribly and stapled back together like this piece of shit movie. But that's the old me talking. The me who used to hate going to the movies only to watch one of his favorite books ripped asunder. What have I learned after all these years? Film adaptations shouldn't be compared to the book, regardless.

There are some of you out there who still hang on to the belief that films should be faithful to the printed roots. It's a notion that has to be let go. You will only drive yourself mad with the fact that there will never be a film that even comes close to the novel that still possesses the same heart and breath.

A movie should be a stand alone from its printed brethren. It shouldn't attempt to mimic it, merely use it as a jumping point. That is what Jeff Stockwell and Michael Petroni did for the screenplay. And the movie worked.

Unemployment means less books

I find myself, once again, a part of the statistic of the unemployed as the job I did this summer has taken one final blow to my wallet. Though, I did manage to stay in the good graces of the employer which secures a job for next summer. That still means, however, that I have to find another job in the meantime - perhaps writing for a blog that pays? I should really look into that.

What might be my final book purchase of the year - who am I kidding? - Jyg and I went to Hastings and sat ourselves down with a few books that piqued our interests. I always head into the literary fiction aisle, while she heads towards the psychology, which leaves us in that gender bending tailspin with social roles. Didn't I read somewhere that women preferred fiction and men were more likely to read nonfiction?

I plopped down with a copy of 2666 and a few other books, while she grabbed a handful of psychological motivational books. Because we both decided that English should be our major in college - though she did double major in psychology - we both entered a world where the only thing we can do is teach, and even that isn't a guaranteed job. She is searching for a job, all the while attempting to remove herself from the negativity that has encumbered her life. I, on the other hand, enjoy my negativity.

I thumbed through 2666 while she fingered through a used (or is it an used?) copy of Feel the Fear . . . and Do It Anyway. Growing bored of the novel - I was never one who could read in public places - mostly bookstores, though, as I could read in classrooms, cubicles and libraries when I was in college - and the erotic collection I picked up that I thought I'd use as a jumping point for another project I wanted to work on via blog.

Deciding that while I did want a copy of 2666, I didn't want to pay full price for it so I returned my stack of books back to their places which is when I found a(n) used hardcover of Elliot Perlman's The Reasons I Won't Be Coming, a collection of short stories I've been eying for years now. I purchased both Perlman's collection and Feel the Fear, because I knew Jyg wanted it and didn't have enough time to write down every single piece of advice on that small note card she was using - things like that remind me (as if I forgot) why I love her so much.

I Was A Catholic Teenage Rebel

A while ago - a long time ago, really - my at-the-time best friend and I held weekly Friday Night Movie-athons in my bedroom as escapism of our freshman year in college. In was in one of these weekly sessions that we came across The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys, starring Kieran Culkin, Emile Hirsch and Jena Malone. Because I had a movie with Jena Malone prior to this, I had a sneaky suspicion it might be worth watching. Also, watching one of the younger Culkin siblings act wasn't holding me back either.

The movie was worth watching and I wholeheartedly enjoyed it, as did my friend. Upon watching the credits - or possibly reading the back of the case - I learned that it was an adaptation to a book of the same name, by Chris Fuhrman. Needless to say, I went out to Barnes & Noble and picked up the only copy off the shelves - to this day, I haven't seen another print grace the shelves, which is both impressive for me and rather depressing for the rest of the region.

The book, however, sat on my shelf for several years before I picked it up and read it.

Fast forward about six years, I decided that I would read the novel that's set in Savannah, Georgia in the 1970s as seen through the eyes of a young Catholic school boy named Francis Doyle. Heart struck, Francis has fallen in love with the misfit girl, Margie Flynn. His best friend, Tim Sullivan aids him in his romantic aspects. But don't think for a second this is your typical YA, teenage-first-love babble. There is conflict when Father Kavanagh threatens to expose a comic book entitled "Sodom vs. Gomorrah '74," which Francis, Tim and their friends created. Ever smart Tim is quick to come up with a plan that might have deadly consequences.

Written in a way that envelopes you - through Francis' perspective - Chris Fuhrman was able to strip me of my jaded adult view and embodied me as I was several years ago when I was only thirteen. While I never had the opportunity to risk all danger like Francis and his gang did in the pages, I could easily summon memories of boys like Rusty, Wade, Joey and Tim. Not to mention first loves like Margie Flynn - girls I would've given anything if only to kiss them once upon their lips. In a sense, the book allows my thirteen-year-old self to live vicariously in the 70s, which isn't a bad thing until I have to set it down and return to my mundane existence.

This ain't your daddy's western

I haven't ever read a western novel before but I can see one a mile away if you hand me the text. What makes No Country For Old Men so excellent is that it's not your typical western. Hell, it's not even categorized as one. There are no cowboys, no horse back riding through history. No 'how the west was won' theme. There are no stereotypes, no iconic characters and what not. If you were to read it, though - oh, you'd know what you had in your hands.

It's hidden around poetic paragraphs, sullen words. But it's there. You have yourself a western novel. You have the good guy and you have the bad guy, the desperado and the woman in distress. You have the horses and you have your shoot outs. Your rangers and your sheriffs and your outlaws.

But you won't find the novel in the western section at your local bookstore. Clearly, Llewelyn Moss, Anton Chigurh and Sheriff Bell don't have a place in the conventional western shelf. Their harrowing tale of a society changing before their very eyes deserves a place with the literary works of the greats. Because that's where author Cormac McCarthy belongs, amongst the greats.

Palahniuk left me choking on description, but gagging on lack of originality

"What a twist--" it's the constant joke on Robot Chicken, referring to writer/director M. Night Shyamalan. The ol' Hollywood Twist, the O. Henry tale. Writer's have been doing it for ages, haven't they? And we enjoy reading a novel, a short story - or watching a movie - that features such a twist; it keeps us on our toes.

The search for the elusive good book lead me to Chuck Palahniuk who has gain a fan base undoubtedly because of his novel (an its adaptation) Fight Club. Tumblr users are always ranting and raving, praising him for his originality and his ability to play the twist - oh, so you think you know the truth, well here it is buddy - GOTCHA! You didn't see it comin' did you, asshole? - but Tumblr has been wrong before.

Maybe my problem is I read the wrong book. Rather than reading the Holy Bible of Palahniuk, I instead picked up a used copy of Choke. The book revolves around the story of Victor Mancini, a sex addict, a scam artist who chokes in upscale restaurants, allowing himself to be saved by other patrons who will then feel responsible for him and inevitably sending him checks and birthday cards. His mother is slowly dying in a mental ward at St. Anthony's, while his best friend fills his house up with useless rocks in order to keep from masturbating. All in all, Victor Mancini's a pretty unlovable guy, a real asshole - someone you go up to in the streets and punch. When Dr. Paige Marshall enters his life, however, things take a turn and Victor Mancini is thrown into a world that's unfamiliar as the truth about his origins start to leak out from his mother's diary.

Unlike the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde story of Fight Club, Choke is a tour de force of a shitty character. Though I suppose that's Palahniuk's thing. While I've never read the book, I have seen the movie Fight Club and was let down by all the hype that surrounded the film. A predictable ending, unlovable, pathetic characters - the only thing that made it worth while is Ed Norton's acting.

But Choke is of a different thread. There's really no lessons learned and the obvious is stated the moment I leafed through chapter three. I've never seen the movie, but surely if I watch it now, I have a feeling that I'll be just as disappointed with it as I was with Fight Club.

However, the ride wasn't all that bad. While the plot and the "mind twisting" ending was all too predictable (I won't give out spoilers because I hate doing so) Palahniuk does have the key of description and he does so beautifully. Whether it's Nico bringing "her big white ass almost to the top of my dog and bans herself down. Up and then down. Riding her guts tight around the length of me," or how "[t]hey wanted Emily Dickinson naked in high heels with one foot on the floor and the other up on her desk, bent over and running a quill pen up the crack of her butt," the description was done with an in-your-face, punk-rock style.

Nothing too gritty for Palahniuk, it seems. So I'm torn: Is this a good book or a bad one? It's neither, really. It's just a book worth the read.

The Sentinel

"The next time you see the full moon high in the south, look carefully at its right-hand edge and let your eye travel upward along the curve of the disk. Round about two o'clock you will notice a small, dark oval: anyone with normal eyesight can find it quite easily," begins the short story "The Sentinel," which inspired Arthur C. Clarke to write the masterpiece - later adapted to the motion picture classic of the same name - 2001: A Space Odyssey.

What started as a typical lunar mission led one man to climb a plateau only to discover a relic left behind during Earth's infancy.

Written in a fashion that can only be produce by a master like Arthur C. Clarke, it's no wonder why this story launched an incredible series of overwhelming imagination that will surpass even the time line of the novels. Originally published in 10 Story Fantasy, the short story was left "in limbo for more than a decade, until Stanley Kubrick contacted me in the spring of 1964 and asked if I had any ideas for the "proverbial" (i.e. , still nonexistent) "good science movie.""

The short story can be found in the pages of The Collected Stories of Arthur C. Clarke. Or read it for free here.

3001: A Space Plot Hole

After spending 1000 years asleep - though presumed dead by his former shipmate and those in charge of his odyssey - Frank Poole wakes up in a strange new world - errm, time. How much has the human race changed in the last 1000 years? Quite a bit, but they're still awestruck by the large monolith that inhabits the Jupiter/Lucifer moon, Europa. Not to mention the two - wait, there was two monoliths on earth?! - that they have on Earth. So begins the final odyssey in the pages of 3001.

Poole is more than ready to return back to the planet where he met his doom, in hopes that the entity that Dave Bowman has become will greet him. It is after their 1000 year reunion that Bowman reveals to Frank the truth behind the monoliths uncovered on the moon and in Africa, something that threatens the human race.

Where does this take us? Well, down another path of space exploration that only Arthur C. Clarke can take us. However, the finale falls short of its predecessors - with the kind exclusion of 2061. While it's not a complete disaster, it does leave plot holes open that leaves readers scratching their hands in wonder. The one that strikes me the most is the complete clash with the ending of 2010, which flashes forward to the year 20,001. If the events were to take place in linear time, then Clarke screwed it up himself.

However, like he explain to us in 2010 and 2061, he repeats himself in the Valediction essay at the end of 3001: "Just as 2010: Odyssey Two was not a direct sequel to 2001: A Space Odyssey, so this book is not a linear sequel to 2010. They must all be considered as variations on the same theme, involving many of the same characters and situations, but not necessarily happening in the same universe." Just like the last two sequels, the final odyssey is far from linear to 2061 in the sense that we learned that Heywood Floyd was also taken apart (much in the same sense that Bowman and Hal - now called Halman in the pages of 3001 - were taken apart, leaving behind just their consciousness. However, Floyd only graces the pages on this final chapter through video recordings and topics of conversation. Otherwise, he is completely left out of the mix.

It's hard to judge the book as a sequel as the author takes the case that it's not linear and shouldn't be read as such. Clarke still possess the power of creating a future - a world - where it all seems possible to us 1000 years in the past, something he never failed to provide to us in the series, even though 2061 seemed to flop miserably. It's a power, I hope, that graces his other novels (which I plan to read in the future). A power very little writers of the genre possess.

2061: A Space Blunder

I'm slightly crestfallen with this sequel to 2001 and 2010. It starts off with Heywood Floyd, a man who is 103 years old, passing an physical exam in order to ride aboard the spaceship Universe which will rendezvous with Halley's Comet. Meanwhile, his grandson Chris (named after his father who was just a child in 2010), is aboard the sister ship, Galaxy. When the second ship is hijacked, the crew and passengers of Universe rush out to the Lucifer system to rescue Galaxy which has landed on the forbidden planet of Europa.

Much things have changed in the last 50 years since the new sun was created, one that leaves you wondering if evolution can take place that quickly.

Unlike with the previous parts, Arthur C. Clarke seemed to have lost his edge. Before I was glued to my seat, turning page after page of the novel. It was only through the sheer fact that I promised myself that I'd read all parts to the Space Odyssey series that I continued onward (I have 3001 sitting on my desk as we speak, looking straight up at me as if mocking me profusely).

The entity that was once Dave Bowman and the consciousness that was once Hal, the computer from the ship Discovery, only present themselves at the end of the novel, which was a good decision. How much more of that pair can we possibly take? However, Heywood Floyd is also split in two, which is as much as a spoiler as you'll get from me.

I understand greatly that the character could not be used again in a later sequel, what he was doing here was puzzling enough but that plot hole was quickly sealed with the fact that he spent the last years of his life in space and suspended animation.

There were even parts of the book that felt like bad humor, such as the whole Beatles reference. Okay, I understand that the Beatles may not be so popular in the last half of this century - and that's a possibility I hope not to live to see.

The writing also seems like something poured over the weekend with a large amount of coffee - though I'd imagine that would be greatly disorganized and this at least followed some structure. Nevertheless, my faith in Arthur C. Clarke will not die with a bad sequel. The fact that he has proven to write two pieces that I instantly fell in love with is proof enough for me that the man has some talent. Let's just hope for my sake that his final chapter of the Space Odyssey series goes over well.

2010: Odyssey Two

I was disenchanted when I started reading 2010: Odyssey Two as it read as a sequel not the the novel 2001: A Space Odyssey but to the film of the same title. While I've seen the film, 2010, the novel wasn't too spoiled for me. Obviously, the detail is fuller.

Nine years after the mishap aboard Discovery, Soviet and American explorers return the abandoned space ship to recover any information that might be used to conclude just what happened to the Hal 9000 unit, and what became of the spaceman, David Bowman. Most of all, to figure out the origins of the huge monolith.

Upon their race to Jupiter, a Chinese space ship launches toward their destination, intending to get their before their Soviet and American counterparts. Upon Europa, where the Chinese ship lands upon, an awesome discovery is made - there is life upon the cold, frozen moon of Jupiter. The dangers that lie for the ship and its crew is made apparent.

Aboard the of the Soviet ship, Alexei Leonov, the crew makes all efforts of uncovering the truth about the monolith and Discovery; meanwhile, the entity that was once David Bowman is headed toward Earth on a mission.

Like the novel before it, 2010, is cleverly written and author Arthur C. Clarke has once again proven he is the master of his genre. Creating well rounded characters and a worlds that surpass imagination. The novel never fails to keep you glued to pages, anticipating the next step toward the discovery of our origins.

When Reading Becomes Writing

I completed the final revision "The Poet Story," which is now called "Digging Graves." Just because I'm done with the revision, doesn't meant that heavy editing is also finished. Every word must serve a purpose and if something stalls the flow of the story, it must be cut.

I'm not sure how much paper and ink I wasted printing several copies of the revised version for editing process - while I can type a story on a computer, I cannot for the life of me revise and edit one while I'm staring at a screen. The first version I printed out was the second revision. I worked on a third and that was printed out as well. When the fourth came, I was happy with the story. I just need to smooth out the kinks and then edit the document and print again. This time, hopefully, I catch all my mistakes.

After seeing the third version of the story marked in red ink, my mother asked if all those books I've read about writing were the cause of it. I told it was the cause of reading most of my life. If I didn't read so much, I would still be romanticizing how easy writing is.

Just for the record, blog posts rarely get a rough draft. Rarely.