Wednesday, February 01, 2012

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 Sea Hearts by Margo Lanagan

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

January 31, 2012 Links and Plugs

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Darkest Light by Hiromi Goto

Monday, January 30, 2012

The Lam-Ang Experiment


Mina V. Esguerra, me, and Michael Co

I was abducted last Saturday to attend The Lam-Ang Experiment announcement (it's a graphic novel by Michael Co) and the Pintakasi celebration (Carljoe Javier is one of the writers for the film).

January 30, 2012 Links and Plugs

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Skirmish by Michelle West

Friday, January 27, 2012

My Room

January 27, 2012 Links and Plugs

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The Weird edited by Ann and Jeff VanderMeer

Thursday, January 26, 2012

January 26, 2012 Links and Plugs

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When We Were Executioners by JM McDermott

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

January 25, 2012 Links and Plugs

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 Zsazsa Zaturnnah sa Kalakhang Maynila by Carlo Vergara

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

January 24, 2012 Links and Plugs

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 The Emperor's Knife by Mazarkis Williams

Monday, January 23, 2012

January 23, 2012 Links and Plugs

Just plugging IDW's Zombies VS. Robots fiction line.

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Zombies vs. Robots: Pammi Shaw: Creator of Gods and Also Blogger by Brea Grant

Comic Review: Zsazsa Zaturnnah sa Kalakhang Maynila by Carlo Vergara


In retrospect, the original Ang Kagila-gilalas na Pakikipagsapalaran ni Zsazsa Zaturnnah graphic novel — first published a decade ago — was a product of its time. You had a superhero(ine) who was a parody of Darna, who in turn was a derivative of the Captain Marvel formula. The villains spoke in the same tone and inflection as celebrities that's part of the Filipino zeitgeist, and the comic was sprinkled with several pop culture references. But more than just a gag, Carlo Vergara subverted the expectations of what it means to be a successful mainstream title: your lead was a gay superhero, events took place outside of Metro Manila, and the language made good use of both English and Filipino, not simply in the mishmash Tag-lish that was prevalent.

The challenge of a sequel, especially one which took almost ten years (take note impatient George R.R. Martin fans), is to deliver something that progresses the narrative, instead of simply rehashing the same formula. Vergara could have simply done that, with few people rallying in protest. But Zsazsa Zaturnnah sa Kalakhang Maynila, at least the first of what is supposed to be a three-part book (the original was released in two parts), comes out as fresh and daring as the first series was. One trait I admire when it comes to Terry Pratchett is that his writing has evolved over the years: if his initial Discworld books was simply an extended comedy and commentary on the fantasy genre, his later novels include depth and layering that has legs beyond the jokes. That's the case here, as Zsazsa Zaturnnah sa Kalakhang Maynila has this sense of gravity that wasn't present in the original. To illustrate the seriousness, the first scene in the book is a monologue by Ada, who recounts his fears and expectations. It isn't a dilemma of how to defeat a super-villain, but rather how to deal with his current relationship, especially in light of his troubled past. The narrative starts out slow and the humor is downplayed early on. Another example of deviated formula is how Zsazsa's iconic costume is not to be seen save for the cover. Instead, the hilarity stems from her improvised outfits. In many ways, it's understandable if fans of the original will be shocked at the sequel: as I said, this is an evolution, rather than simply a rehash of what's come before. These past ten years, I've grown as a reader, the times have changed, and Vergara has "leveled-up" as a writer/artist as well.

Despite the changes to the comic, Zsazsa Zaturnnah sa Kalakhang Maynila retains the essence of what made the original wonderful, with its one-part parody, one-part social commentary, one-part romance, and one-part adventure. There are superhero fights, and there is a memorable scene where Zsazsa, in a chicken costume, fights a giant cockroach with a giant slipper. Class struggles is also a theme in the book, expressed in both explicit and implicit ways. What I appreciate about this comic is how Dodong takes a more prominent role in the narrative, a genuine co-star instead of simply being the McGuffin as he was in the original. And perhaps one of the problems of the portrayal of homosexuals in the Philippines is for the past few decades, it's revolved around one archetype: the flamboyant gay man. Dodong is a stark contrast to that model and hopefully becomes part of changing public perception.

When it comes to art, what's great about Vergara is he understands what makes a great comic work, and puts it into practice. One weakness, for example, of many local artists is how a lot of their artwork is covered by either dialogue or text boxes, especially when they underestimate how lengthy the Filipino language can be. That's not the case here, even when monologues are long. Vergara knows panel structure, and his four horizontal panel framework is well utilized. One good example of this is how the panel-less pages leave no room for ambiguity when it comes to reading direction. Where I'm skeptical is when Vergara switches to his "humor art", the equivalent of super-deformed characters in manga. That's not to say that I'm convinced on its effectiveness, but considering the default style Vergara uses, it can be jolting instead of a seamless experience. I'm on the fence with this one, and probably needs more deliberation on my part. There is also the question of cover design, for while I understand the rationale behind the retro look, it's also a far cry from the content of the comic.

Zsazsa Zaturnnah sa Kalakhang Maynila is a complex beast and might well be one of the most important comic releases for the year. Carlo Vergara is attempting to outdo himself and so far, he's on the right track.

Friday, January 20, 2012

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 Phantasmagorium January 2012

Book Review: Sourdough and Other Stories by Angela Slatter

There's an art to introductions and afterwords — in this case written by Robert Shearman and Jeff VanderMeer respectively — and what's difficult about writing this review is that they've said what I wanted to say when it comes to Angela Slatter's Sourdough and Other Stories. The former sets the tone for the collection, while the latter captures what makes Slatter's writing unique and refreshing. I'll steal a line from VanderMeer:
"You could call what she's created her 'take' on folk-tales, but I think that's too limiting. She's not just riffing off of what's gone before but creating something new that's less stylised and more three-dimensional."
Whether it's anthologies or collections, chronology is important. There's a rationale behind the editor's — or in this case, author's — choice. The opening story, "The Shadow Tree," is brief but quickly sets expectations for the stories to come, conveying the atmosphere of a dark fairy tale. More importantly, it hints that this could be something along the lines of Arabian Nights, with Slatter acting as a modern Scheherazade. That's not quite the case when the reader gets to the second story, but that concept resurfaces as the collection progresses. To a certain extent, Sourdough and Other Stories feels more like a mosaic because of the interconnectedness; part of the pleasure of rereading the book is discovering all sorts of links between the stories. And here's what's brilliant: some writers simply order the related stories consecutively. If the reader isn't paying attention, they can miss out on the fact that the minor characters in the current story were the main characters from the second story that preceded it. The stories actually work quite well independently. However, there'll always be that extra layer between the reader's imagination and the gap between stories, which Slatter stimulates. The power of the final story in the book, "Under the Mountain," is that it's propelled by everything else that came before it, much like a rollercoaster that's reached its apex before the steep descent. Thematically, it also goes back to what was established in "The Shadow Tree," and an example of how the collection is greater than the sum of its parts.

Slatter also manages to strike the balance between maintaining tone without losing the reader's interest. One glaring flaw of Lovecraft's collections is that after the third story or so, it's likely that the reader will get bored due to the formula and repetitiveness of his style. Here, there's always something new to look forward to, yet each story still follows the established framework. Related to that is there's no weak story in the collection: every piece, from start to finish, is excellent. Forget mediocrity, these stories are enough to rekindle a jaded reader's interest. Good writers are able to write a great story; doing several of them, while still retaining the same motif, and then delivering something more, is a feat few writers can claim.

When it comes to themes, there's always this sense of darkness that's missing from many of today's sanitized fairy tales. Slatter isn't being cruel to stand out, but the tragedy and hubris feels natural and organic, a necessity rather than narrative contrivance. That's not to say there are no happy endings here, but they come at a steep price. Nor are the stories feeble attempts at didactic moralization. Slatter's protagonists are also female, embracing the adversities they encounter and using it to fuel their metamorphosis. Even as they commit selfish acts, the readers understand their motivation, and sympathizes with them. It's that delicate balance that propels her stories from being pastiches and homages to something uniquely Slatter.

I came upon Sourdough and Other Stories at the dealer's room during World Fantasy Convention 2011. It was expensive, competing with my budget for other rare books like those published by PS Publishing. But I bought it, and having read read it, I feel I underpaid for it. Readers — genre fans or otherwise — should read Angela Slatter's fiction. Discovering her book is the equivalent of realizing you've fallen for your best friend: they've been there all this time, it's only recently that you've noticed their great qualities, and there's still time to re-assess your original appraisal.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

January 19, 2012 Links and Plugs

And SOPA required reading.

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Secrets of the Demon by Diana Rowland

Book Review: Death's Heretic by James L. Sutter


Neither crime nor mystery is alien to speculative fiction: most of the novels in Isaac Asimov's Robot series, for example, are mysteries, or at the very least, logic puzzles (this is also true for the Foundation stories). So it's not surprising to see those kind of elements in more recent novels like The City and The City by China Mieville, or Zoo City by Lauren Beukes. Death's Heretic follows that vein of mystery-in-my-fantasy but to anyone who's Game Mastered a Dungeons & Dragon's game, the concept isn't so far fetched: the constraints are all there, the Game Master simply has to make sure they follow all the rules. Of course the elements of what makes a great game doesn't necessarily translate to fiction and James L. Sutter has a handle on that. When we think about stories set in a Dungeons & Dragons setting (or in this case, Pathfinder's Golarion), one element that frequently comes to mind is the concept of the adventuring party. Sutter eschews that approach — and he's not the first one to do so either — and goes for a more focused narrative. Death's Heretic revolves around Salim Ghadafar, a warrior that's coerced into the service of a death goddess.

From a perspective of craft, Sutter is transparent when it comes to technique. The template, especially with the formula for most mysteries, is evident. The author doesn't abuse this, however, and makes every scene interesting, whether it's complex suspects or interesting vistas. The key here is that Sutter doesn't repeat himself, and maintains the momentum he's established. As far as the story is concerned, the only qualm I have is when Salim finally encounters the culprit of the crime. The author breaks consistency with what was previously established, not to the point that it disrupts the plot, but it is a bit jolting if the reader remembers the details from the previous scene.

A lot of the appeal of Death's Heretic stems from Sutter's protagonist, Salim. Dungeons & Dragons — hence Pathfinder — has a cosmology where the objective existence of deities can be proven. Salim professes to be an atheist and that's tricky to pull off, given the assumptions of the setting. But neither is this a propaganda tract as Sutter does justice when it comes to the portrayal of the other side. What's compelling is that the premise establishes complications and conflict, and the dynamic there is played up. Salim isn't simply a lone wolf archetype, but a genuine, fleshed-out character.

For the most part, Death's Heretic channels the spirit of classic sword & sorcery, adapts it for a modern audience, and is sprinkled with Sutter's personal touch. It makes for fast, leisurely reading, the equivalent of a summer blockbuster movie for speculative fiction.