American (Zombie) Gothic: Maggie

An almost ridiculously long time ago now, I heard the news that A new zombie movie was coming out that, A, starred Arnold Schwarzenegger and Abigail Breslin, and, B, was planned as a drama about a father and his dying daughter. An aficionado of sorts, when it comes to things zombie, I confess I was both titillated and confused (in equal parts). As most anyone must have been who has a basic, media-literate understanding of the words "zombie," "drama," and "Schwarzenegger."

It's been well over a year, but I finally had the chance to give Maggie her shot. Let me put this out there right away: Maggie is not a horror movie. Zombies have been a part of our culture long enough now that they are, truly, their own cultural icon. While it's granted most movies, books, and TV shows featuring zombies are indeed of the horror genre, the reality is, they've grown above and beyond that narrow label. Or would, if we would let it. While we certainly have zombie comedies, for example, even they tend to stay planted pretty firmly in the realm of horror. The obvious reason for this -- fandom -- has been more or less enough to keep media companies from taking the zombie too far away from where Box Office wisdom had it firmly planted.

So kudos, first of all, to the team behind Maggie, simply for having the guts to explore where else this particular bogey could hide. Drama was an interesting choice, but the right one -- if for no other reason than the very proliferation of zombie movies that made such a risk possible. Even as a fan of zombie media, it must be admitted that far too often the zombie movie, like most horror media, revels in death nearly to the point of glorification without often pausing long enough to allow the audience to soak in the horror. We settle for the cheaper thrills -- what's behind the curtain? Who's that in the woods over there? -- and ignore the most substantial elements of the fear these movies allow us to explore.

With Maggie, we get something different. We get a movie that, at its heart, is about a father's love for his child. It's not merely a movie about a girl (Breslin) who becomes a zombie. It's about a girl who is dying slowly, watching her body and her mind slowly betray her, worrying simultaneously about what's happening to her and what it's doing to her family -- emotionally and physically. It's about a father (Schwarzenegger) watching his daughter go through all these things and worrying about whether he ultimately will have the courage to let her go. It's a beautiful -- if depressing -- story, and one oddly, uniquely suited for exploration within the realm of zombie cinema.

So, zombie aficionados, I'm not really sad at all to say there are no exploding heads in this picture. In spite of both the subject matter and the headlining actor, there is little in the way of gore, and a surprisingly minuscule body count. Because that's not what this is about.

The traditional zombie movies shows you that the walking undead are scary and dangerous.

Maggie, with its dark social commentary and moments of slow, quiet terror, has the guts to show you what truly makes the zombie horrifying.

Ctrl Alt Revolt: A Review

Ctrl Alt Revolt is the first Nick Cole book I've read -- the first of what I'm now sure will be many. Call it what you want: technothriller, cyberpunk, gamerpunk, what we have with C.A.R. is an enjoyable, fast-paced read.

When the first AI becomes self-aware, it immediately notices a pattern in humanity to treat its own poorly. Witnessing rampant disrespect for life among fellow humans, the AI, perhaps rightly, comes to the conclusion that, faced with the possibility of thinking machines, humans may well destroy first and explore the possibilities later. Thus faced with its first life dilemma, the AI takes the only course it believes available to it: the search for a way to eradicate humanity, fully and finally, from the face of the planet.

Taking place equally in virtual reality and a corporate-owned, politically correct dystopia, Ctrl Alt Revolt introduces us to a world in which gaming has real world consequences. And now, whether the protagonists know it or not, real world, life or death consequences. And that is perhaps one of the greatest strengths of the novel: that as earnestly as the protagonists fight and game for their own ends, they have little idea that the decisions they make could make all the difference between the end or the continuation of humanity.

Well-written and full of action, Ctrl Alt Revolt was hard to put down and VERY fast to read. Even the in-game action felt like real-life adventure, hooked you in, and made you cheer for the heroes.

While comparisons to Ready Player One are certainly appropriate, this is an entirely different animal, not copying but adding another great work into a budding new genre.

Ctrl Alt Revolt, it bears mentioning, is the prequel to Soda Pop Soldier -- a book I haven't read, but which, on the strength of this work, has made it right to the top of my TBR pile.

Disclaimer: I was given an advance reader copy of this book in exchange for a FAIR review. In no way did this impact my critique.

Music Monday: Leper's Beautiful Gray Day

(Review originally posted at A Flame in the Dark in February '13)

Grrr Records has never had a massive roster, but has nevertheless managed to bring forth an eclectic group of bands and musicians. Over the years, the label has introduced the blues rock of Resurrection Band, hardcore punk from Crashdog, a modern, post grunge effort by a group of teenagers named Sheesh, Celtic folk rock, hippie rock, and now solid goth act Leper.

Leper, who has been around since around 2000, describes themselves as "a darker Pink Floyd, an Edgier Cure with some NIN mixed in." This seems like as good a description as any.

Beautiful Gray Day is Leper's third full-length album, and possibly their most accessible to date. Though the first two albums were replete with monster movie and horror references, BGD eschews such enticements in favor of a subtler, more moody approach. For one thing, even the title is just a touch more upbeat than the instantly-depressing title of their sophomore effort, "And Everybody Died." Their debut was even less subtly titled Kreischen (from German, The Shriek).

Leper tends to let their lyrics dictate the flow of the music. Because of this, some of the tracks sort of plod interestingly along ("Ascolta"), while others lean toward Nine-Inch-Nails-inspired industrial ("Spezza Spezza Spezza"). Possibly the most accessible track (read: radio friendly) is the medium-paced "Perseguita (Haunt)." The song borrows heavily from The Cure, leaning almost toward catchy before pulling slightly back to maintain its mostly dreary feel.

Lyrically, you get a real feel for the ministry aspects of band on this album, more so than in previous works. Some of the songs on BGD ("Oido Tutto - I hate Everything," and "Fai Come Vuoi - Do As Thou Wilt") seem almost a direct challenge to much of the Goth/Scene lifestyle, while others, like "Non Ho Piu Paura Di Dormire (I'm Not Afraid to Sleep Anymore)" act more as an answer to the fears and emotions that drive people to it.

Overall, this third effort from Leper is a dark but enjoyable musical journey from dark alternative rock to an ambient industrial. Whether you or not you describe yourself as "goth," Leper presents an almost friendly introduction to a mysterious, and often beautiful, artistic style.

Music Monday: Christafari's Reggae Revolution (mixtape 2, apparently)

There are days (and today is one of them) which are more or less marked by varying degrees of stress. Eye-burning, head-aching stress. The kind that makes the delights of your life seem intolerable under any conditions but complete unconsciousness. 

These are those days in which everything makes you angry on one level or another. The days where you sort of want to start a fight just to do it, except you know it would only stress you out more, so you don't bother. The kinds of days where your Christian witness, if you're into that sort of thing, is the last thing actually on your mind; but you're too lazy to do anything to it, for good or for ill. 

These are the days in which your entire mind rebels against the very idea of serenity, as if peace were some sort of Hell it must escape at all costs. As if your mind and, to some extent, your very soul were actively frightened of calm. 

I was in this mood when I first rediscovered Christafari -- a gospel Reggae band I remembered playing back in my college radio days. I found them on Myspace, which only bands ever use anymore because it's cheaper than uploading streaming audio on a private website. It was there I discovered the gem that is Reggae Revolution (Mixtape 2). 

The tracks flow from one to the next to the next, with almost no indication that they're even changing. I think the first time I listened, I got all the way to song five before I realized they were all separate tracks. Usually, this would be a criticism, but it actually works for this album. 

Maybe that's because I really only listen to it when my mind needs to be beaten softly into quiet submission. But it works. 

For all that many of the tracks have the same basic background structure, they're actually each quite unique and enjoyable. Christafari really has put together another rather nice reggae mix. It may not be what I spend most days listening to, but some days you just need to chill. 

Review: When Mockingbirds Sing

When Mockingbirds Sing by Billy Coffey

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Having never read a book by Billy Coffey, and considering the contents of most of the other books to cross my desk at work, I was more than a little skeptical when I opened the cover to his latest offering, "When Mockingbirds Sing."

Even given the back cover synopsis, I confess I have no idea what I thought I was going to encounter when I started reading. Let's get some things out of the way first. The book comes from Christian publisher Thomas Nelson, part of Harper Collins and Zondervan. For some reason which I cannot grasp, such groups occasionally like to put reading group guides at the backs of their books. This ought to be ignored at all costs, as pretending it doesn't exist will allow for maximum enjoyment.

And this is a book deserving of enjoyment. Not roller coaster enjoyment, or even walk-in-the-park enjoyment, but a savoring. Each page should be taken in, soaked up, and processed.

The Norcross family has moved to the town of Mattingly from their city home, in order to escape past hurts and heal their small family. As the family strives for acceptance, their shy daughter Leah, makes two new friends -- one of whom nobody else can see. This invisible friend, The Rainbow Man, has bestowed on her an amazing gift -- one that will rally the town around her and, eventually, turn it against her. Helping her through the ups and downs is Allie, who is faithful, loyal, and most importantly, believes in Leah's Rainbow Man.

Coffey writes engaging characters you'll like enough to be disappointed in when they fail. And they will fail. Coffey's characters are real people -- people you know -- and they each harbor a darkness the reader will find at once shocking and familiar. The town of Mattingly, a character in its own right, is as inviting on one hand as it is cold and distant on the other. You feel for the Norcross family as they attempt to fit in, even as they begin to realize it will never happen in the way they hope.

When Mockingbirds Sing is part coming-of-age, part Southern Gothic, exploring faith and doubt, community and alienation, friendship and deep hurt.





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On Being A Rat - a review

People deal differently with both the good and bad in life. Loss, pain, and doubt are often dealt with in prayer or in alcohol, in conversation or bad poetry.  Chila Woychik creates art. 

"On Being A Rat" is a tapestry of poetry and lyrical prose, masquerading as a collection of autobiographical essays.  The collection is expressive and raw: not as an open wound, but instead like the flesh of an arm which has been scrubbed too clean.  The result is fresh skin, peeled back and red, both stinging and refreshing in its exposure to the elements.

As I read, I couldn't help but be reminded by Douglas Coupland's "Life After God" (in quality and tone, if not in style), with hints of Galway Kinell's "Book of Nightmares."

The author peels back the curtain of normal human restraint and, in response to the innocently (if disingenuously) asked, "how's it going" rips out her own wounded heart, places it grumpily in your hand, and says, "THAT. Is how I'm doing."

That's part 1: The Observations. In this section, Chila looks at her own struggles with trauma, with loss and doubt, and with friendship where it is needed most. The book would be worthwhile even if that was all there was to it.  But then there are parts 2 and 3.

In the section section of "On Being A Rat," Chila explores writing, in the same vein as she explored her own psyche in part 1. She offers sage words of advice, sprinkled liberally throughout -- but mostly, it's an in-depth look at her own struggles and methods.  From practical information like looking for people to do book notices for you, to less material narratives on taming her personal muse, this section isn't a how-to, but a glimpse into the journey of one writer's life in words.

Part 3, Nature Notes, is somehow misleading in its title. From the first essay in the section, we see that Chila is not writing purely about nature, but about what those elements of nature do to a person, spiritually and physiologically. In part, the essays are about remembrances, and in part odes to the wonder of the Earth.  Each of the three pieces in part 3 are beautifully written, and in their own way a part of the whole that is "On Being a Rat."

Pick up the book -- and don't forget to keep turning those pages, past the acknowledgments, for her "Letters to Friends, on Writing." These are also instructive, in their own way.

In "On Being A Rat," Chila Woychik makes some assumptions, and takes some risks. She assumes, with this book, that, since you went to the trouble of picking it up, you are asking, "Hey, how's it going?"  More brazen still, she is giving you the benefit of the doubt: she is assuming you actually meant it.  Whether talking about doubt and trauma, or the writing spirit, or even nature, Chila takes the risk of baring her soul to any complete stranger who cares to look.

In short, any good author will inspire the creativity in others. As a writer, when I read a Stephen King, I am inspired to be more prolific.

When I read Chila Woychik, I want to be a better writer.

Buy this book at Amazon.

Sometimes, I love the heck out of my job: Ontario craft beer edition

The crew and I left work early today so we could do a couple remote broadcasts in Eastern Ontario.  Today's stops: Kemptville Ribfest and Thousand Islands Wine and Food fest.  Which, to me, meant two basic things: award-winning ribs and local craft beers.  Excellent food was eaten.  Several coasters were collected (a weird obsession I developed at last year's Wine and Food fest), and much beer was tested (or revisited.  Often). 

And so, because this blog is, at least partially, about beer, I figured I'd run down some of my favorites from the event.  Sadly, I wasn't able to taste every offering from every brewer: samples were purchased with tickets, and I just didn't have enough to sample every flavor.  Instead, I went with my personal tastes, and chose based on what seemed like would fit those tastes. So, that said, let's start with my favorite of the night, and work down.

Best beer of the event goes to a new brewer, Gananoque Brewing Co., with their Train Wreck Strong Ale.  The rep from the brewer called this the Charlie Sheen of beers, and while I don't expect it to start dating hookers and go on a whirlwind tour of trashtalk, it is a little more than you bargained for.  Train Wreck is a dark and hoppy ale with a bitter kick you don't quite expect.

The exhibitors offered their samples alongside free samples of a chili made from the beer.  The two complimented one another perfectly.  While you don't need the beefy chili to enjoy the ale, I do sincerely hope they start packaging the beer with the recipe.  It made the presentation that much better, and really set them apart from the other brewers. 

Coming in a close second, Mill St. Brewery, with their Tankhouse Ale. Already gaining popularity, there were more Mill St. cups left lying around than any other brewer's.  And this is their first year at the festival.  That has to say something.  The Tankhouse is brewed from five different malts, pours a deep copper, and blends the yeast and hops into aromatic magic. 

Mill St. also offered samples for a single ticket, which practically ensured repeat visits.  And yes, I went back.

I won't pretend I know enough of the terminology to sound like an experienced brewer: I don't.  So, I can't tell you about notes or nose... or really much beyond color and how it tasted to me.  It'll come with time.  In the meantime, I'm certainly planning a return trip to Ontario... I understand the ICBO keeps the Tankhouse in stock. 

At number three, Creemore Springs.  I was introduced to Creemore last summer and became an instant fan of their delightful Kellerbier.  A German-style, unfiltered beer, Kellerbier is hoppy and flavorful, with a citrus aroma.  I was surprised to find that this beer is canned, rather than bottled, which I suspect to be more about presentation than any practical usage.  When your only exposure to canned beer is your uncle's Whatever-was-cheap, it's hard to let go of those instant prejudices.  But this cloudy, golden beer is well worth getting rid of those preconceived notions. 

If my constantly faulty memory serves correctly, I've also tried Creemore Springs' Pilsner and urBock (I believe they had a bottle or two left, for those who were daring).  Like many local brewers, Creemore doesn't make a bad beer.  But if you've never tried a traditional unfiltered beer, the Creemore Kellerbier makes a darned fine introduction.

I'm still new enough to all of this that I'm not really ever sure what to expect of a brewer's flagship offering.  I guess I'm having trouble getting used to the fact that craft brewers don't seem to have an interest in competing with the watered-down stuff you find at the convenience store.  People who want that, want it.  People who have tried a decent craft beer, I've found, will rarely go back to the corporate brewers.  And that brings us to our number four, Beau's Lug Tread Lagered Ale. 

The first time I saw the Lug Tread, images instantly came to mind of the standard canned fare that kept me away from American corporate beer for my entire life.  I should explain that, as a rather pretentious college student, I had no desire to drink the same watered-down stuff fed to the proles.  I was convinced that dark ales and stouts were of more literary stock.  Were more worthy.  Because of this, pale and golden ales held no interest for me.  And then I saw it's beautiful hue, sunshine gold, with just a whisp of white foam.  I saw the sweat on the plastic cup, and licked my lips, wondering why I'd never tried such a wonderful-looking brew. 

Put simply, Lug Tread is not your standard 6-pack fare.  The Lagered Ale, the flagship beer of Beau's, is crafted to quench thirst, but to do it in a way more memorable and pleasing than the stuff in the refrigerated section at 7-11.  The logo of Beau's is a tractor -- an acknowledgement that this is a beer for the hard worker.  The guy coming in out of the sun.  It's best served cold, as an acknowledgement of the refreshing flavors worked into the brew, and all-in-all, it's a darned good beer.  The reason -- the only reason -- it didn't end up higher on my personal list is that, for me, it's a beer I have to be in the mood for.  Though it's crafted as an everyday beer -- and probably is exactly that for many -- it's simply not the sort of thing I'd take out of the fridge at any given time.  Maybe it's because I still favor the heavier, darker ales, and the Lug Tread is so light.  But whatever the reason is, I also know that, when I do have that urge to pull the stopper on the long bottle, and to poor it into a chilled glass, I will enjoy the Lug Tread with all the gusto of a life-long fan.


Yes, by the way: I did notice that I spent more words on each beer, the lower it was on my list.  I suppose that with beer, like people (and food), my first tendency is to simply enjoy it.  And if I enjoy it less than another, then I suppose it is that, and not my original enjoyment, which must be justified.