{film} skyfall

We finally made it to the dollar theater for Skyfall (2012), the latest James Bond movie. It was good to catch in on the big screen. Now, where to begin, after all, it was a Bond film. All the ingredients that define the masculine icon that is 007 are there. His sexual prowess, his armament, his physique, his patriotism, his alcohol consumption. And because I am me, I cannot approach it outside a feminist reading–(okay, I could, but I won’t with Bond films). This is not so much an apology, but to confirm your suspicions and perhaps allow you to decide whether to proceed or not. As there have been plenty of write-ups, we both have an excuse to proceed where we will. Oh, and there will be spoilers.

I will start with things I liked about Sam Mendes film before I do a reading. The car is one of the few reasons I watch Bond films and I was all deep sighs with the car switch. Despite all the international travel, the scope of the film was small as, too, was the casting. Even with that crazy beautiful explosion there near the end, nothing in the action felt too over-the-top after our first rush of adrenaline. The balance between action and exposition was impressive. Javier Bardem (Silva) is incredible, as always. The cinematography and lighting, the blocking–Skyfall is a well-made film, with a rich narrative intermingled with all the silhouettes, skin and adrenaline.

James Bond who is all about resurrection in Skyfall, unearths this beautiful Aston Martin DB5.

I grew up on James Bond films. I watched a lot of films before they were age appropriate though it can be easily argued that no young girl should see these early films. There is a collective sigh of relief for that these newer installments of James Bond stories are more “woman friendly.” And yet I laugh at all the women who sigh over the prospect of a half-naked Daniel Craig (including myself), but he strips down for the men in the audience, just as when he cleans up in those finely tailored looks it is for the men. I question that the only place for the women in the audience is so that they know how to respond appropriately to a real man—what their place is. The newer films would place women in more respected roles in relation to Bond, but are the call and responses still there?

Judi Dench as M was a masterstroke in the first Daniel Craig films. And yet, she’s Mom; unequivocally so in Skyfall. Who else was excited to see the young female of color as an agent at the wheel and then behind the gun? Naomie Harris (as Eve) is one of the most beautiful females Bond films have cast. But what attribute does “little sister” Eve and Judi share? Failure in the handling of a gun (Where does M’s failure with a gun get her?). And the end decision that they are better behind the desk than in the field. The desk being hearth for agents like James Bond who have no “home.” But it was her choice right? And we’ve been missing that certain sexy secretary we all know and love. Well, there is the female Minister of Parliament Claire Dowar (Helen McCrory)—who begins to go on and opine about, but is shushed by Gareth Mallory (Ralph Fiennes) at an official forum, so perhaps not. He gives the floor to M, but the damage is already done. Or was the manufacturing of the moment only to juxtapose Ms. Dower MP with M’s coolness and logic—and the authority of age.

A major theme is the old ways versus the new. Underground bunkers and day lit Federal buildings. New technology and the changing face of global dynamics meets old school espionage. Tech versus human intuition. Youth versus experience and the ability to take the calculated risk without awaiting another’s directives. The narrative brings Bond back to life by returning him to where he began and is effective in creating a nostalgia for things we miss in the modernization of the spy world, let alone the espionage film?

What may be implicated then, in the death of the female M? Come now, L, maybe Dench is ready to retire from the role already. And besides, M isn’t a traditional female by any means. You’re right. And it is almost that the reminder of the fact she can be female in any traditional way (by films end) that makes her no longer fit for the role? Is that another stretch? Perhaps, but I am fascinated by the return of the woman to the more traditional places as the film resurrects Bond from the dead. From his death at the hands of whom? Two women.

I can’t help but read the feminist threat of emasculating Bond being effectively squashed in the resurrection and return of the 007 by film’s end. The father figure returned to the office where Mom had not just retired but died.

—-

I haven’t mentioned all the women in the film. There is the token “Bond’s Lover” (Tonia Sotiropoulou). How did we find (besides the trailers) that Bond had survived his death? Cue steamy sex. Although, there was very little female nudity, silhouettes if anything, in the film. The opening credits put the bare female form to more titillating use than the rest of the film will. Just alluring elegance, see woman friendly film.

Now for the Femme Fatale that isn’t. “Femme Fatale: an irresistibly attractive woman, especially one who leads men into difficult, dangerous, or disastrous situations; siren” (dictionary.com). We are not unused to the idea that many of the characters in this role are put up to the leading men to their doom part (North by Northwest). But this feels especially important to Skyfall who would make the siren’s own victimization undeniable. Sévérine (Bérénice Marlohe) had been sold for sex from an early age and ending up with her current lover was more Sleeping with the Enemy (1991) than Pretty Woman (1990). She is offered a promising way out, as sure as we were that if anyone could kill the monster Bond would. (And he will). I’m not sure if she’d thought she’d be a witness, but at least she was “loved” by a real man before she was beaten up and murdered by boys playing with their guns, right?*

I had hoped that Bond would find a way to save her, as he seemed to promise. But what is a Bond film without the tragic failure for a woman to be saved. In this case, her loss feeds into Bond’s worrisome inability to get his mojo back. As well as the overriding theme of sacrifice—how do we measure a person’s value? Bond, despite failing the standardized tests proves himself to be exceptional just the same. And the sequence in which Sévérine dies is one that is triumphant for Bond—or so we thought. Still, he looked good there, great shooting choreography. And his goal was to get the monster, with M being his greater priority. The gray hue cast over his decision taking a back seat to the action for the time being, until we consider the following dilemma M’s own choices have wrought.

Procedure is shown to be necessarily flexible when one plays in the shadows or tunnels or ruins–correctness judged by experience and intimate knowledge rather than the disdain of the public hearing (i.e. M/Silva, “breadcrumbs” scene). How comfortable are we with this notion? {I find it interesting that The Bourne Legacy (2012) interrogates this conflict as well}.

——-

* Sévérine: My friend S feels in the minority on this one, but I believe she makes a valid point in questioning whether Bond was invited into the shower of a woman like Sévérine who is a woman to be used. Was consent implicit and if so, when was that made? Is the robe and the two glasses by a chilling bottle our signal in the film (even if they are not necessarily Bond’s)? Also, how does the sequence not reiterate the notion that Sévérine is a woman to be used. She admits to being trapped and afraid after he makes note of it. How does this not translate into exploitative behavior of an exceptional sort for Bond? Was there a way to treat this sequence more delicately because I want to recover Sévérine as a more than an object whose end was a given. The manner of her death is disturbing.

Why does this matter? Young men and women watched this PG-13 film. Do they understand Bond to be a morally gray character even as he is depicted as a masculine ideal? Do not-young men and women read Bond in this way. Is this only Sean’s take on Bond?

I believe (because I know men who’ve expressed as much, not just Sean) that Bond may be an idealized figure of masculine expectation but he is also a man and as a man he confronts the morally gray areas men experience. Which brings me in my circle back to where these films are movies for men**, but by no means necessarily addresses the above stated concern.

–

**yet another post worthy of conversation, but this does connect directly with the need for the film’s narrative to address the influences of feminism and our politically correct world regarding James Bond, the character, and the films. Fight Club (1999), anyone?

of note: We were disturbed by Sévérine’s death sequence (Sean and I) and we had such awesome conversation (he and I, and then with S) on the assumptions and responses made as audience members viewing the shower sequence.

also of note: I find fascinating parallels between Sévérine and Bond, both having be sold into violent industry at young impressionable ages and think that is more interesting to think about than the parallels between Silva/Bond and Bond/Mallory.

—

Skyfall (2012) Directed bySam Mendes, Written by Neal Purvis, Robert Wade & John Logan. Produced by Michael G. Wilson & Barbara Broccoli, Music by Thomas Newton, Cinematography: Roger Deakins, Editing: Stuart Baird & Kate Baird; Starring: Daniel Craig (James Bond), Javier Bardem (Silva), Ralpha Fiennes (Gareth Mallory), Naomie Harris (Eve), Bérénice Marlohe (Sévérine), Judi Dench (M)

Running Time: 143 minutes. Rated PG-13 for intense violent sequences throughout, some sexuality, language and smoking.

IMDb; Wiki

{book} a one and only

The One and Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate

cover and illustrations by Patricia Castelao

Harper (HarperCollins), 2012.

hardcover, 304 pages. ages 8-12.

The One and Only Ivan is highly recommended by more than a few respectable book bloggers. I knew I would have to read it despite a few personal concerns. (yes, I know, I’m such a difficult person!) One, was the cover and how reminiscent it is of Kate DiCamillo’s gorgeous The Magician’s Elephant: coincidence or trying to draw parallels? DiCamillo is a dangerous author to have in mind going into another’s book. Two, is more of a thing. I do love animals, but I’m not big on animal narrators outside of Picture Books and my own pre-adolescent years (with a few exceptions). But who doesn’t love a book that you know will make you cry? and it did make me cry—more than once.

Ivan is an easygoing gorilla. Living at the Exit 8 Big Top Mall and Video Arcade, he has grown accustomed to humans watching him through the glass walls of his domain. He rarely misses his life in the jungle. In fact, he hardly ever thinks about it at all. Instead, Ivan thinks about TV shows he’s seen and about his friends Stella, an elderly elephant, and Bob, a stray dog. But mostly Ivan thinks about art and how to capture the taste of a mango or the sound of leaves with color and a well-placed line. Then he meets Ruby, a baby elephant taken from her family, and she makes Ivan see their home—and his own art—through new eyes. When Ruby arrives, change comes with her, and it’s up to Ivan to make it a change for the better. Katherine Applegate blends humor and poignancy to create Ivan’s unforgettable first-person narration in a story of friendship, art, and hope.—publisher’s comments

Those short sentences with long adjectives took some adjustment, but I was quickly charmed by Ivan. Based on a true-story and no doubt a healthy amount of research, Applegate’s imagination is enviable. There is no trite/gimmicky realization of this silverback gorilla named Ivan. He becomes quite precious (a descriptor I am always careful to use) and this makes all the difference in the success of the novel. He truly is a one and only, the indisputable soul of this piece.

Ivan has figured out how best to cope with his situation. He struggles with maintaining more than just dignity, but the essence of who he is. He is an Artist and this does much more than strengthen the credibility of our narrator, this truth saturates every aspect of the story. Having good friends help. As friendship stories go, The One and Only Ivan is breathtaking. Friendship is life-giving and love makes one daring in all the right ways. Ruby and Stella wakes Ivan into unforeseeable action and not unlike Charlotte’s Web, we hold our breath and hope that desperate plan finds a happy ending—for all the characters. The kind of Hope that is not easily won is the most beautiful, and this is the kind one finds in The One and Only Ivan.

The pages are light, some only bearing a few sentences, and Applegate is powerful with it. A lot of the humor is in the oddities, in wry observations, the “chimps” remarks, and the presence of Bob. However, the humor is a quiet counterpoint to that “poignancy” Applegate wields. There are some truly hard subjects and moments that linger. There are some complicated characters alongside the more easily identifiable “good” and “bad.” I adore the inclusion. The Readers (especially the young) will find an easy verisimilitude with the characters—which only makes the story (stories) that much more affecting. The One and Only Ivan is gorgeous juvenile Literature, an unforgettable work by Katherine Applegate.

recommendations: This is one for boys and girls alike, avid reader or no, animal-lover or no. It is an excellent sample of good creative writing. However educational and insightful the read is, it is not message-y; and those crucial realizations that help create a lot of the heart in the novel require some of those comprehension skills of the 8 & up crowd. Also, some of the subject matters require some maturity. Sensitive readers will love this book, but a parent should take the time to read and converse. This is one of those stories that an adult should not be embarrassed to cry during in front of their children.

Expect the young reader to become interested or deepen interest in topics of humane animal treatment. I was driven to consider my friendships—with gratitude—and with the desire to become a better friend. And it must not go without saying that the Hope many of the figures in the story bring has incredible value. There are people who care, people who will fight with and for you. There are people who love and are striving to create positive change in both small and grand ways for those most vulnerable. Ivan who used what was within his power to use is a stirring example.

One of my favorite parts (there are many): “Anger is precious. A silverback uses anger to maintain order and warn his troop of danger. When my father beat his chest, it was to say, Beware, listen, I am in charge. I am angry to protect you, because that is what I was born to do.” (10) “I am angry to protect you”–gorgeous.

of note: the parent child depictions, especially in Ivan’s earliest memories, w/ Stella, w/ Ruby, and with the remarkable human girl character Julia and her father are worth the cost of admission.

{images belong to Patricia Castelao}

{comic} her permanent record

Amelia Rules! Her Permanent Record (#8)

by Jimmy Gownley

Atheneum Books for Young Readers (Simon&Schuster), 2012.

I’m not entirely sure how Amelia Rules! has stayed as small as it has. Early on it was on every short list of comics to recommend the juvenile set. Goodreads does not even have the eighth and final installment up. And I’ve found Libraries to be random with which volumes they had. I know I have fallen down on our own collection, but this is one series that really deserves a lot of attention. The only real good news that comes with the final installment is that the series will be easier to collect under Atheneum’s imprint.

Amelia Louise McBride has lived it all: from surviving her parents’ divorce, to weathering the terror of Joe McCarthy Elementary, to handling devastating crushes (not-so-)gracefully. What more could life possibly hurl her way?

Then Tanner disappears, humiliated by an ex-boyfriend’s tell-all book, sending Amelia into full panic mode. And when she boards a bus on an epic journey to find Tanner–with frenemy Rhonda in tow, and a little help from a certain boy she never thought she’d see again–it quickly becomes clear that if Amelia has learned anything in her eleven years, it’s that life is neverthrough with surprises.

In his heartwarmingly hilarious eighth volume of the acclaimed Amelia Rules! series, Jimmy Gownley takes us on Amelia’s most thrilling adventure yet–and back again. Because in the end, don’t we all end up right where we started?—jacket copy

You do not have to have read the previous 7 books to find plenty to laugh about and enjoy in Her Permanent Record, Jimmy Gownley has a way of finding scenarios and characterization in every volume that will humor and resonate. That said, the best enjoyment comes with having read them all as Gownley has a way of thanking his fans with references to past volumes here and there.* And really Gownley does return Amelia to every book along the way, starting with the beginning, literally and figuratively. Each iteration of past Amelias (1-7) greet the present day girl (8). This is not a new device for this series and because it isn’t new, it doesn’t feel contrived. As it is, the appearance of the multiple Amelias tracks her growth and the events that inspired it. But Gownley is also addressing another aspect that is: who is Amelia now, and has she really changed? I found it a beautiful aspect of this story that while Amelia has grown and changed—and not just physically—she has maintained her Amelia-ness; which is something we absolutely do not want to see changed. But Amelia is complicated, just as Tanner, and Rhonda, and that boy who makes a return we didn’t expect…

Gownley has been blissfully consistent throughout with his characters, and Her Permanent Record makes this inescapably true. There has been a lot of development invested in the cast, but as with Amelia, they circle their own unique qualities—for good or bad. And as with real life, many of the good and bad are tied to a single characteristic. What makes Tanner vulnerable can be an advantage (to Amelia especially, but her fans, too) and a disadvantage (to her family and fans). Rhonda is one of the best best friends in literature because she and Amelia argue like mad, they’ve lines that do not change even as the lines that illustrate them do (e.g. Rhonda’s hair)—I’ve loved watching those two grow up together.

The question of what will go on her permanent record is lovely. I like the file notes from Amelia’s years at McCarthy Elementary. They are a love note to fans, a smile for the havoc Amelia tends to wreak, but they work, too, as chapter dividers. You see the personality and the follow-up in their subsequent pages. The record collects memories, a nice farewell, yet while Gownley reminisces, the book is deciding on who Amelia really is, present tense. And the end lends the reader an optimistic future.

There is a nice return to the first book. this idea that Heroes can fail us. Amelia has a long road of dealing with the fall-out of her parent’s divorce, and Aunt Tanner comes to the rescue in a lot of ways. But what happens when she isn’t 100% whom we thought she was? What if she falls?

A message that hits home over and over in these books is there is a humanness that defies censorship and conformity. There are a lot of messages of “being you” and the “be the best You that you can” in books for this age group, but few take control and own their “you-ness” like Amelia does, may be because they are unwilling to be as subversive as Amelia can be…

Amelia has been through a lot, often they are things you do not get very often in juvenile fiction, but they are familiar nonetheless and Gownley has created a character who can and will meet the challenges. Does she break some rules along the way? Yeah. But not without questioning them and their context (either before or after). And never without consequence. There are those cringe-worthy moments. Hers is the childhood many will find similitude. She is beautiful and I am going to miss her.

————

* “speaking of treats for careful readers…there are two in Her Permanent Record. 1. The video messages to Tanner contain a hidden message, a good old-fashioned rock quote to throw back at Tanner in the end. I’d love to see if anyone finds it. 2. If you’ve read all of the books carefully, you should now be able to deduce Pajamaman’s real name. First and last.”–Jimmy Gownley from his  Interview with John Hogan at  Graphic Novel Reporter.

{all images belong to Jimmy Gownley}

{book} wooden bones

Wooden Bones by Scott William Carter

Simon & Schuster, 2012.

hardcover, 148 pages. juvenile fiction ages 8-12.

of note: my link to Powell’s shares a synopsis with Goodreads that is a bit of a spoiler. I was happy to pick this up off the shelf with the below copy to intrigue without given “oh, no” moments away.

–

“Becoming a real boy was just the beginning…”

Pino thought that all of his wishes had come true. Since he changed into a real boy, he has been content with the simple quiet life he leads with his father, Geppetto. But the boy who used to be a wooden puppet doesn’t quite fit in with the other villagers. When Pino discovers a terrifying new talent for bringing wood to life, he and Geppetto find themselves fleeing from an angry mob.

On the run with a wounded Geppetto, Pino must face a world full of people who want to use—or misuse—him for his powers. But when Pino discovers that every time he uses his mage, he is slowly transforming back into a puppet, he as to make the most important choice of his life.

Scott William Carter breathes new life into an old story and explores what it means to be truly human.—Jacket copy.

I adore fairy tales, but I am not a fan of Pinnochio (my own childhood issues). So I am not entirely sure why I took this one home from the Library to read other than that jacket copy and it was a slim volume. I’m glad I did. Scott William Carter not only carries the spirit of the characters through, but he holds true to the spirit/feel of the fairy tale.

There are some monstrous creatures and wondrous places. The peril is breathtaking for a juvenile fiction—and carried forth with less ego than Adam Gidwitz’s effort to (re)introduce children to Grimm. The adventure compounds, with a respite that tests the pacing, but Carter merely wants us to believe in the potential of a happy ending. oh, dear.

The story of Pino’s change, of who he is or even why he is, seems to move in the shadows of the survival-adventure, but it is an important thread that contributes to that difficult ending. And by difficult I mean that I was not sure how things were going to go—at all. There is much to do with identity in the vein of: what is meant, how things work out, and no matter how difficult it may be to understand some thing’s should not be changed/reversed—including Pinnochio himself. Loss is a recurrent visitor and an inescapable theme the reader must consider on some level. Wooden Bones has some very rich aspects to it that one can appreciate in the hands of a storyteller rather than a preacher.

The narrative is a third person limited with the odd (and only) “you” address to the readers on page 22, otherwise so smooth. I like how Scott William Carter creates symbols out of objects and haunts the novel with them (must be a short story writer). Understanding how Pino would use wood in descriptive terms is lovely. I adore the misdirections. I loved how completely absorbed I became and how moved by so many of the characters, their dangerous flaws and all. The imagination that Carter is able to translate is worth the while (that woods section, and the scar…) Wooden Bones is a wonderful find and one that not only fans of fairytales will truly appreciate.

recommendations: any and all, but probably above 8, older if sensitive. it does have the classic tale feel/elements so that is something to mind. lovers of tales, adventures, and/or wood [carpenters/carvers will find this read delightful].

{film} mr. nobody

“We cannot go back; that’s why it’s hard to choose.” (Nemo)

Nemo Nobody is 118 years old and the only remaining mortal human in the year 2092. Who is this man called Mr. Nobody? No one knows, including himself. There are no records of his 118 years of existence and the stories he tells a young reporter are contradictory. After an opening tutorial on the adaptive behavior of a bird stimulated by varying conditions, we are given a sequence of a 34 year old Nemo dying in multiple ways. We then meet the 118 year old Mr. Nobody who is confused by the psych doctor mistaking his age, which he believed to still be 34. We “learn” who Nemo is through interviews with the physician and a reporter only to wonder, as they do, which choice was the one actually made? And where do these death scenes come in?

 Nemo occupies four primary ages in the multiple storylines presented: 9, 15, 34 and 118. The transitions are most usually facilitated by an emergence from sleep, water or story. Birth imagery, railways, roadways, dreaming…The divergences in timelines stem from multiple sources, but the most significant choice is whether at age nine he goes with his mother or his father when they divorce. At 15, depending on with which parent he resides, it is with whom does he fall in love and how does that play out? At 34 he is at another crossroads, often of a reassessing nature: where had his choices gotten him.

There are three girls from Nemo’s neighborhood who dictate three primary love interests who are cast in multiple outcomes. Anna appears more central than the other two, associated with red; Elise with blue, and Jean, the least and most forgettable (to Nemo, anyway), of the three in yellow. They are visually very different, so the color associations are of interest, though I am stumped by the blue. Nemo’s hair and glasses change depending on which branch and limb he is occupying in the story. The special effects make-up—especially the old-age make-up and the scar—is phenomenal. The casting of the younger Nemos is smart not only in looks but abilities. I do not know how you feel about Jared Leto’s performance in his band 30 Seconds to Mars, but he does exceptional work in Mr. Nobody.

The personalities of the primary characters are consistent irrespective of timeline/situation. The settings vary and fluidly move from “sets” to models to locations. Mind the detail in the sets. Writer/Director Jaco Van Dormael moves through levels of consciousness, even taking us to Mars via a story a teenaged Nemo is writing—even as travel to Mars is shown to be possible by 2092. There is a “timeless” quality that is facilitated by “classic” objects mixed among the new—with the future being an exception. But 2092 is supposed to be an exception, a terminus of anything that is suggestive of a life being lived; sex was rendered obsolete, there is “quasi-mortality,” it is antiseptic. The terminus questions what a life “lived enough” looks like, this is where those few stories involving Jean reside so importantly in juxtaposition with the other two love lines, e.g. on one line, a 15 year old Nemo lays out and pursues a set of goals with a “safe choice” (however “fated” in appearance) and to what end (for either of them)?

Nemo Nobody aged 118: “Most of the time nothing happened… like a French movie.”

As with that opening, the Carl Sagan-esque lectures (by an iteration of Nemo) interspersed throughout inform the narrative significantly (see “Big Bang” here). The platform for the hypnotic state visited informs as well, but the presence and repetition of argyle is disturbing on so many levels (Halloween costume anyone?). The repetition of objects, colors, patterns contribute to meaning and tension, and help with a fluidity in the narrative–despite the increasing confusion and exasperation of viewer and interviewer. Which memory is a true one? What choice did 9 year old Nemo make, and every age after, that caused him to be where he is—a position that has confounded their record-keeping? Natalya* was not satisfied with the film’s explanation. Annoyance with a film she decided was taking too long exhausted her patience with the outcome. And the film does linger in moments, in precious interactions, in gorgeously composed scenes. Mr. Nobody is a film that takes its time and I thought it paid off (at least up to a scene I will call “5:50”). In what amounts to a contemplation on choices and the infamous “what if,” Mr. Nobody employs hard and soft sciences for its fiction(s). It is visually entrancing and oft uncomfortable. And not just uncomfortable in the realization that no ‘hunky-dory’ line exists.  What does it mean to live, to remember, and to imagine a life unfold before (and behind) you? What would make Mr. Nobody somebody?

Mr. Nobody (2009). Written & Directed by Jaco Van Dormael; Music by Pierre Van Dormael; Cinematography by Christophe Beaucarne; by Editing by Matyas Veress & Susan Shipton; Produced by Philippe Godeau; Studio Pan-Européenne; Starring: Jared Leto (Nemo Nobody: 34/118), Rhys Ifans (Nemo’s father), Natasha Little (Nemo’s mother), Diane Kruger (adult Anna), Sarah Polley (adult Elise), Lin Dam Pham (adult Jean), Thomas Byrne (Nemo 9), Toby Regbo (Nemo 15). Belgian (English-speaking version).

Running time 141 minutes. Not-Rated, but equivalent a PG-13, due to language and sexual content. *Sean and I were able to censor our 12 year old, having seen the film before.

IMDb. wiki.

a 2013 science fiction experience.

{book} blink & caution

Blink & Caution by Tim Wynne-Jones

Candlewick Press, 2011.

Hardcover, 343 pages. teen/ya fiction.

Blink & Caution is a great title, and I was not disappointed that the story and the characters so named were worth the intrigue.

Two street kids get tangled in a plot over their heads – and risk an unexpected connection. Boy, did Blink get off on the wrong floor. All he wanted was to steal some breakfast for his empty belly, but instead he stumbled upon [a kidnapping involving an important CEO]. Now Blink is on the run, but its OK as long as he’s smart enough to stay in the game and keep Captain Panic locked in his hold. Enter a girl named Caution. As in “Caution: Toxic.” As in “Caution: Watch Your Step.” She’s also on the run, from a skeezy drug-dealer boyfriend and from a nightmare in her past that wont let her go. When she spies Blink at the train station, Caution can see he’s an easy mark. But there’s something about this naive, skinny street punk, whom she only wanted to rob, that tugs at her heart, a heart she thought deserved not to feel. Charged with suspense and intrigue, this taut novel trails two deeply compelling characters as they forge a blackmail scheme that is foolhardy at best, disastrous at worst – along with a fated, tender partnership that will offer them each a rare chance for redemption.—publisher’s comment.

Need a break from the first-person narrative trend of young adult fiction these days? I couldn’t get enough of Tim Wynne-Jones’ narrative styling for Blink.

Oh, you think. A flock of questions come to mind, but the questions are too jittery to land near such a grumpy girl. So you turn the pages of the newspaper, looking for something else on the story, your story […] Oh, Blink, my smart friend. You have read more these last couple of days than you ever did in your life. Your brain is hurting from all the information in your brain box, flapping around trying to find someplace to roost, like pigeons scattered by a dog. (169)

The clever, quick and energetic flickering captures Blink. The images for metaphors drawn from his environs, just as the sources of his evolution as a character are. Caution’s narrative is a lovely third-person limited that suits the telling of her—a bit of distancing, a necessary watchfulness. The two narratives complement each other well, and as for the characters themselves? This is the kind of pairing readers will also find refreshing; although I was a bit concerned there with that ending. But you see the need for it. The length of the book travels some long and dangerous routes before reaching that end and its youthful (and not so youthful) audiences will likely be looking for that hand to hold.

Blink & Caution is the heart-pounding sort of read, Wynne-Jones making it very clear from the start the sort of peril each of his protagonists are in and that he is willing to keep them there. As the synopsis describes, the harshness of their existence, of the things they have and are going through place this novel firmly on the Teen/Young Adult shelf, but as jagged the edges are, many are allusions left to the vivaciousness of the imagination. It is the sort of read that lends itself to developing compassion in the reader rather than cultivating a gratuitous edge in a voyeur.

Caution is on self-destruct and what constitutes rock bottom for her is painful, as are the efforts and conflicts that draw her out. Blink is a victim of those intersections of rocks and hard places. Survival mode isn’t pretty and the human spirit takes a beating in them both. Of the two, however, Blink has this persistence of being that is hard to ignore. He is so vulnerable, so open to the reader and much of the world around him; yet not weak in any defined way that tends to illicit repulsion. He’s disarming. Wynne-Jones even manages to temper any sense of pity, favoring commiseration instead; which is well-crafted considering many of the readers will have experienced few of the actual circumstances.

However capable a good hero in these adventures should be, these two are tired, confused, and desperately trying to keep it together. And the investment in the story is as much about the Brent/Blink and Kitty/Caution as it is about that onward momentum toward the kind of disaster that they will risk their lives to escape—because they have to care about their lives enough to want an escape.

Other characters pepper the novel, some more attended than others but they live to serve the plot and protagonists. Some may call it neglect. I enjoyed the focus as the development of the protagonists is so finely tuned. Blink and Caution’s storylines cross in the present day, but the collision does not occur until Part II which is 142 pages in. Each line is compelling in it’s own way, weighted in it’s own way. Caution’s line carries her ever closer to the role she comes to play in Blink’s life and line. Blink’s drives the greater scheme of the story, the witnessing of a crime, an investigation, and the desperate grab for some profit from it. Caution injects the paralleling desperate bid for redemption, but redemption isn’t for her alone. And timing is everything.

Blink is my first love of the novel, but Caution, while appreciated before, adds another dimension of the wounded that is invaluable to the story. Add the “Afterword” on an inspired event and Tim Wynne-Jones’ thoughts about it, and you are further compelled to engage more than the heart-muscle. The novel wants to offer more than adrenaline with a touch of romance, but to dwell on the consequences of violence, intentional or no, victim or perpetrator. That he fuels his explorations with such determined characters offers a sense of hope for more than just survival, but redemption and a future happiness.

—

recommendations:  Blink and Caution is a bit Laurie Halse-Anderson contemporary fiction meets James Patterson teen adventures more heavily weighted toward a masculine version of the former. Wynne-Jones wields a fierce pen with Kitty/Caution, but his rendering of Brent/Blink is a point of adoration. The motel room interaction sealed it for me. I think Brent/Blink is the male youth that so many readers have been missing. If you are anticipating the eventual direction of your younger male reader toward Nick Hornby, Chuck Palahniuk, Joss Whedon, and Guy Ritchie, Blink & Caution is a good predecessor. For all the crap humans the protagonists encounter, there are some model-quality people and relationships as well. High school audiences & up, girls and boys alike, thrill-readers and drama-junkies both; urban dweller or no; for those who(‘ve) experience(d) broken situations or no.

of note: difficult to put down, especially after entering Part II. I stayed up to finish this one.

{comic} the underwater welder

The Underwater Welder by Jeff Lemire

Top Shelf Productions, 2012; trade paper, 220 pages.

Moving home with a wife after earning a degree in English Lit, Jack Joseph works as an underwater welder on an oil rig off the coast of Nova Scotia. Deep-sea work is a dangerous job, and the time to live dangerously is not when your first born is due to arrive any day now. But Jack is compelled to return to the deep again and again, but in search of what? Well the timing is not coincidence, impending fatherhood, Halloween… Jack returns to his childhood and interactions with his father, all moving toward a fateful day steeped in anger and guilt, buried deep. What happens to Jack is supernatural in effect and incredibly poignant as consequence.

“Equal parts blue-collar character study and mind-bending mystery, The Underwater Welder is a graphic novel about fathers and sons, birth and death, memory and reality, and the treasures we all bury deep below the surface” (publisher’s comments).

You may hear/read Twilight Zone when people speak about Jeff Lemire’s The Underwater Welder, and much of that has to do with the paranormal aspect (“travelling through […] a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind.”–Twilight Zone), the black and white—and I suspect the tinge of horror to the mystery. There is that intonation of fear, but I found the sadness the more engulfing emotion. Jack has a life, a loving wife and a child on the way, and yet he is haunted by something that would jeopardize everything. Or has it been in jeopardy and Jack is finally go to search it out and confront his past aka his father. But will he have run out of time (an oxygen) in the attempt.

The story is more image than text, and Lemire is exceptional in silence and sequence. The rough line work is part of the characterization. He doesn’t draw pretty people, smooth and unlined and shiny. The subtle echoes between the grown son and the father have an organic substance and play with the reader’s visual read. The boundaries between present and memory and that internal landscape Jack enters are a rippling in the water. Lemire is smooth without edging clever into confusing. He keeps us as off-balanced as his protagonist while yet experiencing that strange lucidity that is effecting Jack Joseph throughout The Underwater Welder.

The use of the occupation, the sea, the setting…Jeff Lemire is a craftsman. The imagery, (of which I adore the womb/birth imagery the most), the metaphors, the echoes, that pocket watch. The earnestness carved from a working people’s life. Lemire has that indie quality without the loftiness and his wit is in the sense of astonishment when the story is closed. Lemire is quiet and he sneaks up on you. He is a marvelous storyteller.

recommendations: young people could read this, but I think it finds its greatest impact with the older crowd, especially those experiencing/anticipating fatherhood–w/ anxiety or no. for those who find pleasure in the craft of comic storytelling. and if you haven’t tried Essex County, do.

{all images belong to Jeff Lemire}

{book} vessel

Vessel by Sarah Beth Durst

Margaret K. McElderry Books (Simon&Schuster), 2012.

Hardcover, 424 pages. teen fiction, fantasy.

Every 100 years the gods enter their chosen vessels in order to help their tribes regain the kind of footing that humans and nature have caused to slip. This is the only way the gods can intervene using magic, otherwise they abjure to the Dreaming and live out stories that inevitably create new creatures, events, and relationships. The Desert tribes are suffering a terrible drought and their only hope is the return of their deities (each honoring a god or goddess of their own). Liyana’s people worship Bayla and after her dream walk, Liyana is chosen as the vessel in which the goddess will inhabit in order to walk among her people.

Liyana  does not meet her fate without fear, but she would fulfill her destiny for the sake of her people, her little brother’s future in particular. Despite a long and flawlessly performed ceremony, Bayla does not come and the tribe (with familial exception) are sure Liyana is to blame. They leave her to her fate in the desert.

A beautiful young man named Korbyn finds her. He is the trickster god and her goddess’ beloved. He is also the only god not to be deceived into “false vessels,” but this means he is the only one to correct this very dangerous situation. The plan involves rounding up the chosen vessels and he convinces Liyana to not forsake her destiny and help him find the other vessels before their ceremonies and/or before something bad can happen to them.

Liyana is an ideal character to follow, a steady and practically minded girl, observant and clever, and faced with a growing affection for her goddess’ beloved. Durst does not make things easy, but she builds strength and intelligence into her central character. With the meeting of the vessels comes different responses to the idea of sacrificing one’s self and body for the sake of the gods and the tribes. The personalities of the vessels echo that of their deity, as do the tribes for that matter.

The desert people are not the only ones to figure into the story, and not for the desire of an easy villain. There are no easy villains, every hero hard-won. It may seem odd to say, but Durst fights for her major characters—for their chance at living a full life, whether they be god or mortal, likable or no. The characters imperfections fuel the conflicts, but so do their most admirable traits. And the compassion Durst infuses into the story wins a delicately tread battle. For all the myth telling and supernatural elements, like the water Korbyn draws from the depths, Durst does not cheat her audience by pulling something from nowhere.

The threading in of myth is so beautifully done and I adore its use as Durst brings a rich culture to life. The arduous journey is perfectly imperiled. And the ending fraught with the kind of conflict that is seriously angst inducing. Characters will be lost, love tested. Durst crafts an entertaining read, but Vessel has other benefits worth noting. The clash between the ‘advanced’ society of the neighboring empire and the desert people is worth noting because Vessel works to undermine popular assumptions like General Xevi’s:

“Look at these people,” General Xevi said. He waved his hand at the clans. His jeweled rings flashed in the glaring sun. “They are barely above animals, scratching their lives out of the sand. If they had access to special powers, they would have built cities! We would be facing an advanced culture with civilized tools and weaponry. As it is we are facing the equivalent of our ancestors. Let us show them what the modern man can do.” (356)

The emperor’s motives, however, allow for his willingness for broader perspectives—for all their “advances” their resources have been diminished by the great drought as well.

Sarah Beth Durst weaves a wonderful fantasy fiction that is, as Tamora Pierce writes, “unique and breathtaking.” Liyana is a fantastic female lead, vulnerable yet determined, beautiful and intelligent. The adventure compels. And the romantic aspects treated with a careful hand: enough intensity to derive angst, but with an ease of the throttle to keep from overtaking the story completely. Initially I thought some of the romantic aspects had conveniences, but I’m too happy with outcomes to quibble, let alone linger over such thoughts real or perceived. I do not read a lot of young adult fiction fantasy, but I read enough for “unique” and “refreshing” to come to mind–after I got my breathing back, of course.

recommendations: I mentioned in my end-of-2012 wrap-up that Vessel nearly made it into the “top 3 favorite ya” reads. I think it an easy recommendation for those who love mythology and the fantasy genre in general. ages 12 and up would be best. Durst does not retire situations for young audiences. I think the older crowd’s concerns with identity, personhood and sexuality enrich the experience with the text—not that this wouldn’t be good for the re-read. Good writing and reading for those who like their adventures to star an non-white protagonist upon occasion, to say nothing of a presentation of a less common perspective.

{film} looper

In 2074, when the mob wants to get rid of someone, the target is sent 30 years into the past where a hired gun awaits. Someone like Joe, who one day learns the mob wants to ‘close the loop’ by transporting back Joe’s future self.—IMDb

————

Older Joe: I don’t want to talk about time travel because if we start talking about it then we’re going to be here all day talking about it, making diagrams with straws.

There are remarkably few reviewers disenchanted with Looper (2012), but those who are seem to share the same issue: the science in the fiction. Oddly enough, just because time travel is a key aspect to this science fiction film, it is disinterested in talking about it. It practically chastises the viewer with comments like Joe’s (above) and this one from the crime boss Abe (Jeff Daniels) “This time travel crap, just fries your brain like a egg…” Even without those occasional overt comments, the story removes itself to other concerns pretty quickly, relying on the softer science and recreating memory (physical or no) as its most central interest of time travel. Looper would be a nice anti-dote for the mind-bender Primer (2004)—which, if you are in love with the science/consequences of time travel that little indie cult film is a must.

I’ve yet to hear any complaint on the performances. You’ll hear none from me. I was really worried about how distracted I would be with Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s donning of prosthetics to look more like Bruce Willis. And I was sort of distracted. It is the eyebrows, lip, and shadow mainly. And it was startling, in a lovely way, how Gordon-Levitt not only adopts Willis’ facial profile, but his mannerisms as well. When the two sit across the table and interact, I was riveted, and very much amused. Gordon-Levitt as the younger Joe is, well, young and not all together as clever as the older version of himself, an extremely badass and emotionally mature Willis, but he gets there–a development that is crucial to the film. Emily Blunt is dependably Emily as the character Sara who is a little further along the timeline of maturity than Joe. Pierce Cagnon, the little boy who plays Cid, is terrifying. He made me want to pee myself he was that convincing.

Rian Johnson wrote and directed Looper, and is credited the same with Brick (2005). Expect that sort of unflinching dark—in humor, violence, and outcome. In Looper, where beginnings and ends are in focus, the path between is the mystery. Knowing the end, how does one change the past? Knowing the beginning, how does one change the future’s seemingly inevitable trajectory? What of the impact of a parent on the child, the parental figure on the vulnerable… Survival is a menacing state and Johnson with Looper is determined to pull it from the abstract and create concrete scenarios in which to ground his explorations. The caliber of talent he directs is key for that emotional complication. This is not one for those who cannot handle residing outside the austerity of black and white thinking. The actors are determined to share their torn nature and desperate circumstances with the viewer.

It is of interest to me where Looper finds its sentiment and where it scoffs at the facades of popular nostalgia. Hipster be warned, you are again the butt end of a joke, and how significant that the unwittingly iconic Gordon-Levitt is cast in such a role. Seriously though, it is noticed the styling of the mafia in the “present day” and the mimicry pushing further back along the timeline as the future moves forward garbing their “vigilante terrorist” in wide-brims and dusters. In a way it marks vengeance over greed, but do they really differ? We do not get to see the affluent and sheltered—only the grit and scrapes. And like the refusal to play the time-travel-digressions, it is desperate to avoid other genre expectations as well. Looper is what happens when an true Indie gets a hold of the Sci-fi genre. It even refuses to give the stripper-lover big breasts.

The effects are good, really good. The soundtrack more ambient. The lighting is perfect, and like Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises (2012), bad things happen in daylight as well as night, so really there is no escape there, no grand gesture on where evil and truth should reside. And the violence is bloody and affecting—please no young audiences in your vicinity for this one. Joe is complicated, and desperate, and there are some unpleasant decisions to be made. The humor is a pleasure, and sometimes it is less obvious. For instance, the interaction between Abe and Joe regarding Joe’s choice of language and his future travels become even more amusing when you read the trivia and learn that they could not afford to film in Paris as previously planned.

The urban versus rural landscapes features prominently, not only the rural as a place where things grow out of the earth/nature, but as it is connected with particular female characters. The three women characters have a mother/lover aspect, each to varying degrees with Emily Blunt’s Sara placed between Piper Perabo’s Suzie and Qing Xu’s Summer (and not just in timeline). Yes, I noticed the naming, too. The women are tough, decisive figures, but it is the rural connection with Sara and Summer that add to the statement about lost boys. Everything is just cleaner among the more natural climes—it is a site of restoration. Which makes young Joe’s use of it as a meeting place something to think about when we are to wonder about his nature… That, or it just remarks upon the error of my reading. Or maybe he is the coyote.

Abe: Ask yourself: who would I sacrifice for what’s MINE?

It is tricky to talk about probable consequences of time travel when the film doesn’t want to go into detail (whether it can or not) and the viewer might. However it does create a set of basic assumptions upon which much of the conflict is built. Fortunately, the assumptions are not hard to grasp, and that may be the source of some of the complaints; it may be too simplistic. I like the accessibility, and I enjoy the very simple impossibility of the dilemma which comes to rest in the question of love and sacrifice. The action, acting, filming, sound, effects, pacing, characterization and progression: all good and entertaining. But one of the things that sets Looper apart is that it is interesting, to say nothing of feeling undeniably relevant. Not an older generation observing or complaining, but a young man standing in the middle looking back and forward and wondering aloud and trying to hold onto the most hopeful vision of a seemingly impossible future in the present.

Looper (2012), Directed/Written by Rian Johnson; Music by Nathan Johnson; Cinematography Steve Yedlin: Editing by Bob Ducsay; Produced by Ram Bergman & James D. Stern.Studio: FilmDistrict, Endgame Entertainment & DMG Entertainment. Starring: Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Joe), Bruce Willis (Old Joe), Emily Blunt (Sara), Paul Dano (Seth), Noah Segan (Kid Blue), Piper Perabo (Suzie), Jeff Daniels (Abe), Pierce Gagnon (Cid), Qing Xu (Summer Qing/Old Joe’s Wife).

Running time: 119 minutes. Rated R for strong violence, language, some sexuality/nudity and drug content.

 this post and film is part of The 2013 Science Fiction Experience

{book} graffiti moon

Graffiti Moon by Cath Crowley

Alfred A. Knopf, 2012 (2010 in Australia)

hardcover, 257 pages. contemporary teen fiction.

tagline: an artist, a dreamer, a long, mean, night

a little wanting song guaranteed I would be reading more of Cath Crowley’s work. I took me a bit of time to get a hold of a copy of Graffiti Moon, and it was well worth the wait–not that I would recommend any body who likes good contemporary teen fiction wait, especially if they like romantic comedy and/or art.

Senior year is over, and Lucy has the perfect way to celebrate: tonight, she’s going to find Shadow, the mysterious graffiti artist whose work appears all over the city. He’s out there somewhere—spraying color, spraying birds and blue sky on the night—and Lucy knows a guy who paints like Shadow is someone she could fall for. Really fall for. Instead, Lucy’s stuck at a party with Ed, the guy she’s managed to avoid since the most awkward date of her life. But when Ed tells her he knows where to find Shadow, they’re suddenly on an all-night search around the city. And what Lucy can’t see is the one thing that’s right before her eyes.—publisher’s comments

It’s a bit of a case of You’ve Got Mail except the cute meet has an amusing twist; a bit of Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist, but different. Told in alternating narrators (Lucy and Ed and with poems by Leo), the Cath Crowley’s Graffiti Moon spans the night following Lucy and cohorts’ completion of year twelve. The occasion for overlays were so nice and really exemplified Crowley crafting of three very individual narrators.

Lucy is roped into an evening out with her best friend Jazz and she decides to make the best of it by finally meeting Shadow. Jazz eyes Leo with interest and the feeling is mutual, but that means Ed has to come along. Even so, Leo has an early morning date with crime that he is obliged to make and Ed is (again) set to help out his friend. So the passing of time is marked as they travel about, looking and talking about the graffiti art/ist; which is not tedious reading in the least. If anything, it would be fun to reference the images/artists Lucy and Ed talk about as they talk about it. Love that Rothko is a featured inspiration.

Graffiti Moon could be accused of creating a cast of quirky characters foreign to the novel’s audience for mere entertainment, but the verisimilitude will be striking—I hope, because it would depressing if they were not. Okay, so some of the problems at home may resonate, and that isn’t a happy-making thought, but young people dreaming and passionate about artful things is. Ed may do graffiti, but Leo does the poetry, and Lucy is a budding glass blower and in certain company sharing their passion for art is okay. But not everyone gets it and that comes into play. Being able to be oneself and find your mode of expression is paramount, survivalist even, and both relationships and individuals operate in unique ways (e.g. Lucy’s parents).

The choice of art, the graffiti for Ed and the glass for Lucy are nice choices, nicely used and well-articulated. I was especially charmed by Crowley’s sense of humor and her own artful ways with the craft of writing. I enjoyed a turn of phrase time and again and laughed outright a time or seven. It is fun that N read it because I had to merely reference a moment and we were laughing over it again together. I am smiling just now thinking about the hijinks with the bicycle. And yep, the get-away van…

Graffiti Moon isn’t all sweetness like I’m worrying that I am making it sound. Lucy is pretty cute if not frustratingly naïve at times. The romancing isn’t easy nor is it necessarily every character’s immediate concern: at least, not with their pairing. Crowley layers in quite a bit of character history and personal conflicts in these 257 pages, not all of it pleasant (especially for Ed and Leo). For a story set on that edge of a future, some of the images appear bleak, certainly messy. I like the messiness of the characters and the relationships (except the threatening, bloodletting parts) not just because it makes them interesting reading, but because it makes for characters who actually change—and one night’s progress would’ve failed Graffiti Moon if not for Crowley’s sense of story. (As for the threatening, bloodletting parts, that was good dramatic effect and who doesn’t love Ed and Lucy all the more after the park encounter?)

Crowley’s energetic launch into story, her humor and deft handling of character there in the first chapters invest the reader into an adventurous night that only gets better and better. I could say that you could find morning having experience a light-weight’s rush of adventure, but there is too much heart for that and I should think that no reader could leave Graffiti Moon unaffected in some way.

recommendation: high school and upwards, boys and girls alike. lovers of art, contemporary drama that isn’t too sticky, romantic comedy, art, and swoon-worthy kinds of characters even when they can still be asses at times.

my review of a little wanting song (U.S. print: Knopf, 2010)

* had I read Cath Crowley’s “about” page I would have known she was my kind of person from the start.