You might’ve guessed this, but just in case you didn’t, look, I been busy, yo. The super-secret project has been kicking my ass. It’s not so much that I don’t know what to do or how to do it. It’s not even that I don’t have the time. The problem is that the damned thing’s been taking so much sheer mental effort that honestly, there just hasn’t been a lot left over for anything else. I mean, I can still ride and train because for the most part that doesn’t take mental effort. Triathlon is the antithesis of my work. But blogging, writing, even managing Sellswords… all those things have kind of gone by the wayside this past week or so. With that in mind, I’m not gonna do a full-on review this week. I’m just gonna tell you what I’ve been reading, and you can take from that whatever you will. And at this point, we’ll just have to see about Storyteller’s Playbook on Friday. I’ll try, but I make no promises.
So.
Yesterday I finished Drew Karpyshyn’s 3rd Star Wars book, Darth Bane: Dynasty of Evil. Fun stuff. The first half dragged a little, but in general, I’ve enjoyed all of the Darth Bane books, and at least for me, this last one tied it all up nicely. It ended well, and old Drew left himself some running room in case they let him write some more of this series. Personally, I hope he does. I’ll keep reading.
While we’re on the subject of Star Wars, I notice that Paul S. Kemp has a new Star Wars novel out called Crosscurrent. I don’t know anything about it, but Kemp—a Canadian lawyer in real life, just like my own sometime writing partner Steve—is one of my favorite Forgotten Realms authors. His Erevis Cale books are some of the best in the Realms. With that in mind, if I see this one at my local library, I’m gonna check it out for sure.
I also skimmed Kevin Smith’s Batman: Cacophony yesterday, but it sucked a high hard one. Look, I know a lot of folks like Smith and all, but for me, he hasn’t done anything decent since Mallrats. And yes, I did like Mallrats—a lot—and if you didn’t, that’s not my fault.
Last week’s big read was the second of Martin Cruz Smith’s Arkady Renko books, Polar Star (the sequel to the much more well-known Gorky Park). I’ve mentioned before that Smith is one of my personal heroes, and this book reaffirms why. First off, the man isn’t even Russian, but he seems to understand Russians in a way that’s almost inhuman. And then, too, who else could come up with these odd-ball plots? Polar Star is a murder-mystery set on an Arctic fishing factory ship! It’s also a damned-fine novel, which is probably a part of why I’ve had so little patience for bad writing—like Kevin Smith’s—lately.
Over the weekend, I read Storm Front, the second of Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files comic adaptations from the Dabel Brothers, and it was LIGHT YEARS ahead of what the first one was. Where I found Welcome to the Jungle plodding and poorly executed, Storm Front was a very faithful adaptation, easily capturing the original’s wry wit and sheer mad-capped excitement. In fact, there were several places where the OGN actually improved on the original by the addition of simple clarity. For that fact alone, adaptation scripter Mark Powers deserves a medal. Even better, however, is the fact that although the GN Storm Front has the same illustrator as did Jungle, in the newer volume Syaf’s fanboy tendencies are kept well in hand. We see him go over the top only once with fanboy excitement, and when he does, it’s entirely appropriate. Plus the coloring is decidedly darker, and the inks are heavier, leading to a much, much edgier look over what I’m sure are similarly styled pencils.
My only complaint on Storm Front is its cover. It’s ugly. Harry Dresden should NOT have a late 80’s Jheri curl style white-boy afro. In blonde, no less. Gimme a break, alright? If he stands too close to an open flame, he’s gonna catch fire like Michael Jackson dancing for Pepsi. That’s just wrong.
Finally, there’s this morning’s fare, Vertigo’s Madame Xanadu (Volume 1), a book that Variety called “Classic” but that I personally found a little plodding in its 3rd Act. Eh. I’m not gonna sit here and say that’s it’s a bad read or anything. It grabbed me from the beginning, and the art is excellent throughout. Where it came apart for me was in the end. We never get what I’d call resolution. The whole thing reads like some kind of weird, fanboy-esque unfulfilled lust fantasy. And that leaves me cold. If I end a book wondering “what’s the point?”—I mean, what’s the point? Girl makes mistakes, fails to learn, and makes more mistakes. She not only doesn’t get the boy, she never even gets a chance to try to get the boy. And that’s supposed to be a story? Come on. That’s the START of a story. But it plays like it’s an ending, and in any case, I’m sure as Hell not gonna hang on for Issues 12 through 15 (i.e. Volume 2) based on a false finish. Ugh.
So there you have it. This afternoon I’ll be reading Grant Morrison and Andy Kubert’s Batman and Son. Morrison hardly ever writes bad stuff, and Kubert is a legend in his own time, so I have high hopes. But I feel like Batman done me wrong a few times lately, so…
Well, here’s hoping.
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