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Stranger Things (Happen, Are you Going Round the Twist?)

I haven’t fallen in love with a TV show quite so thoroughly since The Flash. And I don’t think I ever engaged with The Flash as I have with Stranger Things.

If you’ve not experienced the utter privilege of watching Stranger Things yet, then you should. You should go do that right now. But for those of you who haven’t and are still reading: this article will contain spoilers.

Stranger Things is described as a love letter to the films of the 80s, specifically Spielberg’s era of whacky adventure mixed with sci-fi shenanigans. But then you throw a whole load of thriller and a pinch of horror into the mix and you’ve got something quite special. No 80’s throwback would be complete without a group of loveable misfits at its centre. Mike (Finn Wolfhard), Dustin (Gaten Matarazzo), Lucas (Caleb McLaughlin), and Will (Noah Schnapp) are the heart of that 80’s feel. Instantly their bikes makes one think of E.T, and their bantering a direct link to The Explorers. They play Dungeons and Dragons, they get picked on at school, and they investigate spooky happenings. What more could we possibly want? A telekinetic stranger, that’s what more.

Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown) is the E.T. of Stranger Things. She’s the misunderstood outsider with the power to save the day. Chapter Seven features a scene where Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Eleven are being chased down by undercover government agents in white vans whilst the group are on their bikes. All seems lost until Eleven uses her god damn mind to flip a van. Of course, it’s not quite as innocent as the feel good family flicks that Spielberg put out. Eleven drops a fair number of bodies in her campaign against the Bad Man and goes out in style as she destroys the Demogorgon.

The series features fantastic acting from everyone involved, Winona Ryder as Will’s mother steals the show with her unshakable determination to rescue her boy. But she’s never passive, always convinced of her convictions and never does she give up hope that Will is still out there, still alive. She even goes into the Upsidedown in Chapter Eight; a perfect testament to the love a mother has for her child.

Hopper (David Harbour) is another example of a fantastic character. He could have so easily became consumed by doubt or substance abuse, a character arc we’ve seen time and again, but Hopper’s past and his keen intelligence makes him a hound searching for a rabbit. He knows something’s up, and he’s one of the biggest players in Will’s eventual rescue from start to finish. In fact, he’s probably the biggest player come to think of it.

Stranger Things is a series riddled with amazing characters. Nancy (Natalia Dyer) was the perfect line between girl-next-door and strong willed go-getter. Jonathan (Charlie Heaton) wasn’t just a creepy photographer, he was a worried brother and gentle soul. Steve (Joe Keery) was more than a shallow jock, time and again he was proved to have a conscious and all of his actions (maybe beside the spraypaint) were justifiable in context. What’s more, he atoned for his past transgressions and saved both Nancy and Jonathan from the Demogorgon with his ability to act in the face of intense danger.

The cinematography is beautiful, the effects are stunning, the score is inspirational and the script inspired.  I honestly don’t think I’ve seen a more perfect show. It’s genuinely made me want to write a sci-fi thriller.

I’m left hollowed in the way only a great story can hollow you. Here’s to hoping the Duffer Brothers can capture the same magic in season 1 for the inevitable season 2. Great reviews all around, and very well deserved.

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Hugh Howey’s ‘Sand’, A Review – Or: ‘Sand really goes get everywhere’

Rumour has it Eskimos have fifty different words for snow. Well, they ain’t got spit on Hugh Howey and his encyclopedia of sand.

Have you ever been to the beach? Have you ever built a sand castle? Have you ever pretended to be Godzilla or Megazord, crashing through your sandy metropolis and wondering exactly why you’re feeling no remorse? These buildings are so easy to destroy…look at the little people scream…Me neither. But Hugh Howey has.

‘How deep must you go to uncover the truth?’ asks the tagline. Deeper than this book is the answer. I came away from Sand with more questions than answers, which isn’t always a bad thing. The biggest one being that of Vic’s fate, and what exactly the strange people over in No Man’s Land are really doing, and why they wanted the people of Low-pub and Springston dead. I suspect there’ll be a second installment in the Sandy series, but for the meanwhile, these questions linger on, just like that weird rash you’ve got.

I’m a fan of leaving a few things whipping in the wind. Audiences aren’t idiots, and shouldn’t be treated as though they are. I don’t need to be spoon-fed, but I do like some stories wrapped up. As it stands, Sandcastles feels like it ends on the penultimate chapter. We’re left with Conner, Rosie, Palmer, Rob and that other girl as they wait for Vic to return from No Man’s Land. The nuke goes off, and then it starts to rain. Which doesn’t really wrap anything up. Is Brock dead? Did the kid’s father survive? Did Vic survive? Is Springston rebuilt? Will the family head west to the mountains like their father told them to? Why should I care about their random half-sister? All these questions and more!

    But let’s talk about what the book did do, rather than what it didn’t. It built a great world. It gave us engaging characters that are easy to get behind. It gave us a gripping narrative that doesn’t hold back the punches or shy away from the gory reality of a harsh post-disastrous world. The concept in particular is fascinating. The world is buried in sand (hence the name). Humanity has developed suits that allow them to manipulate the sand, making it have the same effect that I do on girls. The protagonists swim through the sand like divers. Guess what they call ‘em? Go on. It’s not a trick question. It’s Divers. They call them Divers. Divers use their magic suits to swim down to the buried civilisation below and pull all sorts of treasures free. Like suitcases full of dirty underwear. Score.

What’s more interesting than the setting is exactly how the sand got there in the first place. Something that isn’t ever really addressed, only briefly. See, it’s coming from No Man’s Land. The people who want to blow up Low-pub are the same people digging (or something) and all of that sand is flying over the horizon, burying the world. Now that’s ruddy cool. It’s a shame that Howey spends no time on what is probably the more epic part of his book. It’s a passing comment, just a line of dialogue. We don’t even get to follow Vic out there to watch as she blows it up. It’s left me with a bittersweet taste in my mouth. I want so desperately to be able to see this machine. To know what the antagonists could possibly be doing to cause so much destruction, but we’re never really shown. It’s both a missed opportunity and very clever. If there is a second Sandrash book, I’ll be sure to buy it.

Having said that, I’ll buy it with some reservations. Whilst Howey’s ideas are spectacular, his prose isn’t my idea of a french fancy. He doesn’t always write in full sentences, which infuriates me because I can’t get away with it. I found these moments to break my immersion. I found myself thinking about the writing as opposed to the story which I don’t think was intentional. I’ve not read any of Howey’s ‘Wool’ series, but I’ve heard good things. I wonder if he’s written these in the same sort of style.

Whilst I’m moaning, what the hell was up with Palmer’s story? His was absolutely the most interesting character until he got out of Danver and became Skeletor’s gym-shy cousin. Disappointed with the direction of Palmer; not once did he put on his Atom suit and shrink down to the size of–wait, wrong series.

SAND is a post-apocalyptic sci-fi novel from bestselling author, Hugh Howey. It’s one of the most original books I’ve read in a long time and well worth the read.

http://www.hughhowey.com/

http://www.hughhowey.com/books/sand/

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Ernest Cline’s ‘Ready Player One’, A Review – Or: ‘I wish I knew more about 80’s pop culture’

Born too early to explore the universe, born too late to understand eighty percent of the references from Ernest Cline’s teenage years.

That opener might make it seem like I didn’t enjoy Ready Player One, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. No, Cline managed to grab my interest immediately by making his novel about A) Video Games, and B) Video Games.

We find ourselves in the year 2044 where poverty is rife, oil is all but gone, and jobs are so rare we don’t speak about the horrible things your mum does to get you that coveted fast food gig. We follow ‘poor-enough to make a compelling Protagonist’ Wade (five-)Watts as he lives life in the Stacks: state of the art, luxury caravans, clumsily and recklessly piled atop one another. Like the world’s best game of Jenga, but it’s gotten a little out of hand and everybody’s forgotten it started as a game.

But the fun doesn’t stop with oversized Jenga! Wade (ten-)Watts escapes daily into a virtual reality called the OASIS. Inside the OASIS, a person can be anyone or anything they want to be. So if you think the internet’s a weird place now, just wait until it replaces reality. There’ll be bountiful new ways to catfish your friends and family! The OASIS is a virtual reality created with the sole intention of giving every geek a raging, uncontrollable erection. There’re entire worlds dedicated to movies, or games, shopping or TV. Literally anything is possible inside the OASISand we owe it all to genius inventor, James Halliday.

That’s the setting and this is the plot: James Halliday–an eccentric recluse–is dead. In his last will and testament he states that ownership of the OASIS, including his personal wealth (billions of dollars), will go to the person who can solve his riddles and collect, in turn, the Copper, Jade and Crystal keys, and use them to open the Copper, Jade and Crystal gates, eventually finding Halliday’s revered Easter Egg. Halliday was notoriously obsessed with 80’s pop-culture, and in order to obtain the three keys and pass each gate, the players must be devoted to everything Halliday was interested in. Even passing interests. The man was so self-indulged that in his death he created a world in which everyone had to love everything he himself loved. To that end, 80’s pop-culture has again descended upon humanity. Joust your little hearts out.

I read Ready Player One in a little over a week and found it to be a thoroughly gripping experience. But this is Ernest Cline’s first book and it kinda shows. Whilst the concept is utterly unique–annoyingly unique–I had a hard time believing a lot of the dialogue. Many of the characters sound the same and they all see James Halliday as some sort of patron saint when every piece of trivia and anecdote concerning the man paints him as a socially inept, nasty piece of work. He once fired an employee for not understanding a reference…Haha! So quirky! What a guy! No…what a quantum spanner!

What sort of a man stages a worldwide contest to see who gets to inherit his billions, anyway? Why not donate it to a worthy cause? Let’s keep in mind that this is an incredibly poor future and in staging this contest he knows full well what sort of chaos he’s about to unleash. Children are straight up murdered for being further ahead in the game than others. Halliday, why not–I dunno–take all the effort you put into coding your competition, and instead put it into funding a sustainable future in the real world! Of course, there’d be no novel if he’d done that, and I can believe that James Halliday would be the sort of self-centred jackface who would rather usher in a half decade of chaos than try to use his massive fortune to actually make a difference in the world. If you ask me, Halliday is the real antagonist in this book.

Still, at least he wasn’t obsessed with 90s pop-culture. I’m not sure I could have read a novel with endless supplies of chain wallets, rat-tails and Spice Girls references.

I actually don’t have much more to say about Ready Player One. It’s a great read for anyone who was alive in the 80s and anyone with a passion for video-games/ old sci-fi movies. I’m the latter here. Do yourself a favour and pick up a copy before Spielberg inevitably hacks it to pieces because Dreamworks refuses to buy the rights to the entirety of War Games.

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Ready Player One is Ernest Cline’s first novel, it’s a fantastic concept that’s just a whole lot of fun to read. Cline has a second novel out now called Armada which I’m sure I’ll get around to reading. In the meantime, Steven Spielberg has picked up Ready Player One for adaptation onto the big screen and I’m looking forward to how the whole thing’s handled.

Ernest Cline: http://www.ernestcline.com/

Ready Player One: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ready-Player-One-Ernest-Cline/dp/0099560437

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‘The Flash: Rebirth’, A Review. Or, ‘Damn that boy run fast, what he hiding?’

How many times can The Reverse Flash actually mess with Barry’s legos? The answer is indefinitely.

Admittedly, I’m little bit obsessed with The Flash at the moment. I bought a ‘baseball’ cap with his shield on. I’ve delved into the comics at what I’m told is a good in point, and I’ve religiously watched the CW show starting Grant Gustin. Actually I wrote a little piece about that and the Green Arrow adaptation ‘Arrow’ a little while ago (PLUG). Fair warning, this review will feature spoilers.

The Flash Rebirth is the first comic book I’ve A) ever owned. B) ever read. So The Flash has the dual ownership of introducing me to comics and a new monetary sink hole.

Written by Geoff Jones and illustrated by Ethan Van Sciver, Rebirth is a pretty intense read. So intense in fact, that MTV SPLASH PAGE dubbed the graphic novel: “Impressive”.

The book is beautiful in its art, and thought-provoking in its narrative. And, if I’m completely honest, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of Jay Garrak throwing his hat like a metal rimmed frisbee of pain. The old timer’s got a mighty fine throwin’ arm.

The plot: Barry Allan is back from the dead. Like many a costume-clad hero before him, Barry has managed to seduce Death into being more relaxed around him. One day, Death left the gate unlocked whilst he was out running chores, and Barry–the naughty little Red Devil that he is–high tailed outt’a there like only a speedster can. That’s how I imagine it happened, anyway. The comic tells us otherwise. Absorbed into the Speed force, Barry had lost all track of his individuality (I didn’t know the Speed force was actually the Borg, but oh well), until a mysterious villain drags him back to the world of the living for some dark, ominous purpose…It’s The Reverse Flash. I don’t know why they even tried to hide it, it’s so obvious.

Now back in the world of the living, Barry faces his biggest challenge yet: the Costume Kerfuffle! See, Wally West had assumed the mantle of The Flash in Barry’s absence (the presumptuous little so-and-so), and now both men have equal rights to the coveted red cowl. Barry’s solution? Become The Black Flash and officially begin the tenth annual Speeder Games! Completely against his will, obviously. The Reverse Flash, criminal mastermind that he is, reveals his entire genius to Barry in a showdown inside the Speed force.

Eobard Thawne (aka The Reverse Flash) was behind bringing Barry back from the dead. He ran fast enough to generate his own Reverse Speed force and contaminated Barry. Turning him into a weapon to be used against his family and friends. Why? It’s simple really: Eobard Thawne is completely insane. Not content with Barry Allen being legitimately dead, Thawne devised his master plan simply so he could make Barry kill his loved ones with a single touch, and live out the rest of his days as a guilt ridden monster, his legacy destroyed, himself a wreck of a man.

It didn’t quite go down as Thawne had hoped though. Barry sacrifices himself again and the two have a face off inside the Speed force. But soon the fight takes them back to Earth were Jay Garrak, Bart Allen, Max Mercury, Jesse Quick, and Iris West (aka Impulse) have all gathered to watch Wally and Barry finally solve their costume war. Wally’s new threads are a darker, maroon red. His gold lighting bolts are glossy finished. His eyes are white and his nose is covered by his mask. Barry accepts these changes gracefully, donning the classic brighter red suit and yellow lighting bolts for himself. The world rejoices as the bloodiest conflict in recent years is finally at a conclusion. Celebrations are had, the universe is finally at peace. And then all the assembled Speeders join together to beat The Reverse Flash or something like that. It’s all fine.

I found Rebirth to be a fantastic point to join The Flash locomotive. You’re being introduced to a world that’s obviously already in full swing (there’s a comment from Superman about them losing Batman somehow, which shows there’s some major background here), but because we’re following Barry Allen, a man whose been dead for the last twenty-three years, it doesn’t matter that there’s some story we’re missing. We know as much as the perspective character, and that’s all we need.

The story (summarised perfectly above) is gripping in all the right ways. As a first time comic book reader, I did have to get used to the format, but once I was in full swing it was an easy read. My only gripe is the sheer volume of characters involved. Many of whom I didn’t know existed. But, this wasn’t written for the intention of giving new people like myself a place to start (I assume). So Geoff Johns and Ethan Van Sciver have used a wide arsenal of Speeders, heroes and villains alike.

It’s colourful and it’s vivid, but it’s also dark in places. Johnny Quick’s death was particularly harrowing.

All in all: comic good.

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The Flash is a DC Comics Superhero known for his ability to run hella fast. His inception is accredited to Gardner Fox and artist Harry Lampert, but many different characters have been donned The Flash’s mantle over the character’s mammoth seventy-five year run.

The Flash: Rebirth was written by Geoff Johns & illustrated by Ethan Van Sciver.

Here’s a link to the comic on amazon: http://www.amazon.com/The-Flash-Rebirth-Geoff-Johns/dp/1401230016

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Andy Weir’s ‘The Martian’, A review – Or: ‘How many potatoes can a man eat on Mars?’

Not since the Mountain faced off against the Red Viper have I felt quite so tense whilst viciously clutching a book between my frail man fingers.

I’m tempted to tell you to just read the book. Don’t read this, read the book! Fair warning, this review will feature spoilers. ‘Cause…I wanna talk about the book, OK?

The Martian, by Andy Weir is a roller-coaster on speed. It’s like watching your favourite comedian walking a tightrope between the London Shard and the Gherkin whilst doing his best routine with no safety harness and a swarm of angry, UKIP supporting super wasps doing fly by stingings. Sure, you’re laughing–but who knows when one of those bastard bugs’ll get a pot shot and the laughter goes tumbling back to Earth. Splat. Bye-bye laughter!

Tumbling back to Earth is something Mark Watney would have loved to do. Being stuck on Mars sounds…frightening. If you don’t know the story, here it is in a nutshell: Mark Watney, one of six Ares III crew members (a NASA organised manned Mars mission) finds himself stranded on the red planet when a nasty storm causes an emergency evacuation. On his way to the MAV (fancy speak for spaceship), Mark goes and gets himself a little bit impaled on flying debris and the rest of the crew shrugs apathetically, climbs into the rocket and slings their collective hooks. Bye-bye, Mark!

With only his super botany skills, above average mechanical engineering skills, and a whole boatload of smarts, Mark must find a way to resist Mars’ wiles and keep himself alive until he can be rescued. But with no way to communicate with NASA, and not knowing if anyone realises he’s even alive, Mark is faced with the damn right daunting reality that he’ll either have to survive until the next Ares mission (four years away), or die alone on a godforsaken rock.

He gets busy, gettin’ busy, I’ll tell ya that for free!

You might recall in my last review (David Brin’s Uplift), I mentioned that I’m a slow reader. Whilst that’s true, every rule has an exception. And The Martian is my exception. I read it in five days, which is a record for me. Others say they read it in a single sitting, but you know what, whatever. Five days is impressive, I don’t care what you think!

Every page of this book is a turner. Be prepared for a whole bunch of science, though. I’m not sure how accurate it all is; the last science I did was in secondary school, eight years ago. I did alright in GCSE science (B,B?). Either way, Weir clearly knows his stuff, and it’s incredible to see so much research and hard science in a work of fiction. It makes the entire thing that much more believable.

That said, this is a survival story to the bone. This is the sort of stuff Bear Grylls should be doing. Oh, you ate a live scorpion? Good for you, Bear. Mark Watney ate potatoes…which he grew…on Mars…after harnessing the bacteria in his own homemade chocolate pudding.

You crossed the Sahara Desert did ya, Bear? Very impressive, Bear. Well done, Bear! Mark Watney crossed MARS, Bear! He pimped a rover, and drove 3,200 kilometres with a radioactive radiator as his only source of heat!

Face it, Bear. You’ve been dethroned.

Just to clarify, I’m aware that Mark Watney isn’t real…but he is, so shush.

I’m not typically a fan of first person narratives, but this isn’t pure first person, so it’s fine. Not that there’s anything wrong with first person–a good story’s a good story–but I just prefer third person.

We, the audience, get semi-regular daily updates from Mark as he sits down and types out his misadventures. Should I say daily? Soly? Eh…anyway, I thought it was pretty neat of Mark to format his diary as one would a typical novel. 0.6” indent on new paragraphs. Double spaced. 0.5” margins. Thanks, Mark. Very considerate. Honestly though, that was the only thing that drew me out. Once. And it’s not something that can be helped, it was just a thought that paid me a visit whilst reading. Anyway, this format allows for plenty of interesting story telling tricks because everything’s told from a first person account of past events. So, a log entry can start (and often does) with something like:

“I f**ked up. I f**ked up big.”

And instantly my heart is racing. Whatcha do, Mark? Are you doomed? Don’t let it be so, Mark. You’ve gotta make it back! The world’s watching, Mark!

Mark Watney might just be my favourite fictional character in recent years. I actually care about this person. I care if he lives or dies. I’m invested in his survival. Well done, Weir. You made me care for a non-thing! Mark’s a funny, optimistic, ridiculously intelligent bloke. Yeah he swears, and he throws tantrums, but wouldn’t you in his shoes? His resourcefulness and ingenuity is utterly inspiring. Really, at the end, it begs the question: could I do what Mark Watney did? Even with the intelligence and training. Could I have lived alone, stranded on a world that doesn’t even support the simplest of bacterial life, for a year and a half? Would I have gone insane? Taken the easy way out? Or, more simply, would I have failed?

See, Mark falls down. He falls down a lot. But he also manages to dust himself off, and get back to it. So the message I’m taking away from The Martian is that of perseverance. When the universe decides to pile it on, when everything’s getting too damn much, I’m just gonna remember that Mark Watney endured a year and a half of disco music and nothing else, but despite that he remained a sane man.

What an inspiration.

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The Martian is Andy Weir’s debut novel, and is soon to become one of those moving picture books staring Matt Damon and directed by Ridley Scott. Weir first self-published The Martian,but was later picked up by an agent which is both bloody rare, and really, really lucky for us all. I don’t know if I’d have heard of this fantastic book had it remained self-pubbed.

Check Andy Weir out here: http://www.andyweirauthor.com/

And check out The Martian here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Martian-Andy-Weir/dp/0091956145/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1438977239&sr=8-1&keywords=the+martian

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David Brin’s ‘Uplift Trilogy’, A review – Or: ‘You had me at intelligent Chimpanzees fighting alien Birds’

How long would it take you to read a book about spacefaring Dolphins, and Chimpanzees at war with giant birds? A week, maybe two? It took me eight months.

But that’s because I’m a slow reader.

Some time last year I picked up David Brin’s ‘The Postman‘. I was in full swing of my post-apoc one man hype train and I was choo-choosing a classic that I’d heard good things about. I loved it, and David Brin went straight to my ‘keep an eye on this chap’ list. I then picked up ‘Sundiver’, also by Brin, and the good scientist-come-author had cemented his place on my ‘I’m watching you’ list.

I was about a third way through Sundiver when Christmas reared its jolly head. My girlfriend’s parents had gotten me (on top of a bitching Superman onesie) the Uplift Trilogy. So, Sundiver, Startide Rising, and The Uplift War all rolled into a mammoth 1205 page monster. It’s big. I’ve seen smaller toddlers. This thing could kill a pensioner.

I’m not sure how to approach this review really. There were aspects I liked of all three books, and things I didn’t like. I mean…Startide Rising and The Uplift War are Hugo and Locus & Nebula award winning, whilst Sundiver (my favourite of the three) received no awards.

The scope and the concept are fantastically large. Brin does a spectacular job of making his universe feel dauntingly huge, and then–somehow–manages to make it feel claustrophobic too!

The concept, whilst simple at its core, is built brilliantly and remains, throughout the whole series, as the central conflict. That concept? Uplift. Uplift is the act of dragging an animal kicking and screaming into intelligence whether they want it or not. Because misery loves company, and why be content with only arrogant humans when we can surround ourself with a Noah’s Ark of wise-crakin’ know-it-alls?

In Brin’s universe the only way for a species to achieve sapience is to be ‘Uplifted’ by an intelligent species. The Uplifted species become Clients (read: slaves) to their Patrons (read: masters) for a few millennia until they get to spread the joy of intelligence to their very own Clients (read: salves)! Humans (the Wolfling Clan) are special because we don’t have a Patron race. We allegedly stumbled and fumbled our way into intelligence by evolution–a process thought impossible–so every other race in the five galaxies hates us. The rest are indifferent. Only a handful actually like us. Sounds about right, I only like a handful of humans myself. The leading theory in-universe is that we were half Uplifted and our would be Patrons cut and ran. Can’t blame ’em really.

The stories themselves are also pretty basic at their core (the best ones always are).

Sundiver details a mission to the Sun (hence the name) where funky lifeforms have been discovered. Our hero, Jacob Demwa: a marine biologist/ astronaut/ political mastermind/ Private eye/ human swiss army knife, finds himself caught in a mysterious conspiracy to debunk humanities’ competence on the Galactic stage.

Startide Rising focuses on a mostly Dolphin crew hiding out in the waters of an alien world whilst a huge, intergalactic war wages overhead. What are the powerful galactics fighting over? The Streaker, the Dolphin crewed ship. They made a discovery and now everyone wants a piece’a that sweet, sweet sushi. The crew need to work out a way to escape the star system in one piece, whilst keeping their findings close to chest…close to fin?

The Uplift War takes place towards the end of Startide Rising and then just after. This time we’re on the planet Garth during an invasion of the terrifying, brutal, Gubru. A race of super intimidating bird folk…We’re sans Dolphin this time, as Garth is a human/ Chimp planet. All across the five galaxies, war is waging over the Streaker’s mysterious discovery. Earth and her colonies are under siege, and the Gubru, religious fanatics, decided to roost on good ol’ Garth…Bloody Dolphins ruining everything.

There’s no suggested reading order (if you get all three books separately that is, and are a shameless anarchist) but in a chronological sense the order is as seen above. The stories, however, are all so independent, and the concepts so throughly explored in each book, that you could, in theory, read them whichever way you’d ruddy well like (in theory I could scream whilst I’m on the bus, but I don’t…some things are just wrong). Sundiver takes place a good century before the events of the next two, but only affects Startide Rising in the sense that one of the protagonists is a mentee of Jacob Demwa, the protagonist of Sundiver. So he’s mentioned maybe twice? If you read Uplift War before Startide you’ll hear mention of Streaker and a bunch a cowboy Dolphins, but it doesn’t affect the plot of Uplift War. Startide does provide some context though, as you’ll understand why Garth is under siege. I’d recommend reading them in order, because why not?

I enjoyed Sundiver immensely, even with Demwa’s almost God like abilities. It’s a fun read from a (at the time) new author with really big ideas. The concept of Uplift is fascinating, and I found the creatures living in earth’s sun to be really well imagined. I’d hoped, however, that Brin would focus more on the life forms in the sun and less on the crime/ mystery plot. But that’s Brin’s business. Good book, very enjoyable read.

Startide Rising I didn’t enjoy quite as much as Sundiver, but it’s still a solid read. It’s tense in all the right places, tragic and exciting. Brin imagines the nature of intelligent (neo)Dolphins very well, and does his best to flaunt them. To that end we only have four or five human characters against a whole crew of Dolphins (and one Chimp–what a lad). Truthfully, I fond my suspension of disbelief wavering somewhat; there were moments that made me put the book down, but there were also plenty of moments where I couldn’t stop reading, too. For me though, Startide Rising shows Brin’s ambition. The novel is saturated with perspective characters, all of whom have complicated names, a lot of the time it’s a struggle to remember who’s who.

An issue that’s made significantly worse in The Uplift War.

My least favourite of the three, The Uplift War has long, confusing names like Uthacalthing, Athaclena and Prathachulthorn. Only two of these names belong to aliens, the other is human. Bet’cha can’t guess which one. I kinda just made a noise when Prathachulthorn reared it’s ugly head…It really destroyed my flow.

The saving grace of this book is Fiben. Your classic anti-hero action type who just happens to be a Neo-Chimpanzee. I lived for his chapters, and (surprisingly) the Gubru chapters. With the exception of perhaps Unthacalhing, I found a lot of the other perspective characters borderline boring. None more so than Athaclena. A member of the Tymbrimi, Earth’s closest (read: only) allies, the Tymbrimi are galactic pranksters, hilarious rogues. Yet Brin decided not to show us your typical Tymbrimi prankster, instead we got Athaclena. She’s brash, stubborn and almost completely humourless. I don’t understand the purpose of introducing a race of jokers if the only two you show us are considered ‘boring’ to their own people!

I didn’t dislike The Uplift War, not at all. I only felt it was…flat compared to the other two books. It fizzled. I can’t recall a climatic scene, only a slow pattering away, and then the end. A shame really.

There are more books in this series, and I might get around to them one day. But for now I need smaller books. I need books that don’t double the weight of my bag every time I head out for the day.

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David Brin is a multi-award winning novelist and scientist. He’s a ruddy good author, so check him out!

Links to his website: www.davidbrin.com

Link to the Uplift Trilogy on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Uplift-Complete-Original-Trilogy-Omnibus-ebook/dp/B009EA355E/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1438893373&sr=1-2&keywords=Uplift

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Treading Twisted Lines - Book Review

Twisted lines were trod, and very much enjoyed.

I recently starting speaking with a brilliant Australian author called Beth Madden. She and I decided to mutually and honestly review each others works. The ol’ switcharoo, if you will. Now, I have to say I’m not a fan of Beth’s covers, but art’s subjective and we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. All that jazz.

All three books are set within the same obscure future fantasy earth that features wizards and cars with touch screen unlock keys. Like your iPhone. It’s truly a unique setting, and one I’d really, really like to revisit at some point. Hopefully Madden will write a novel set in the same world. We’ll see!

The Chosen voice engaged me in quite a few ways. The author has crafted a world that feels both real and fantastic all at once. I’m still not entirely certain where we’re supposed to be, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying it. The names feel Japanese, yet the inclusion of wizards is magical. The ‘four free zones’ sound dystopian, and the inclusion of Beethoven means we’re in the real world. I’ve decided that it’s a futuristic fantasy world set on an alternative version of Earth.

Anyway, the setting isn’t the important part of this story – it’s the characters. The general premise is Christine, a student journalist, is being paid to interview Darren Brown (not to be confused with British illusionist and TV personality, Derren Brown – that had me confused for the first few paragraphs) a man who sings with the power of a full choir behind his voice.

Christine is a stern young woman who knows what she wants, and will go to extreme lengths to get it. Whereas Darren is a cocksure, seemingly lazy man whom, on the surface, seems intent to coast through life, not putting much effort in. I won’t say much more about the plot, but these two characters collide in a way that is quite spectacular, and utterly real. The author has done a tremendous job in crafting characters who seem real above all else. For a fantastical setting, that’s really what you want to anchor you.

I did, however, find the story to be quite slow at the beginning. I wasn’t truly engaged until the fifth page or so, and I could understand why someone might stop reading before then. I would urge readers to stick with it though. The setup is well worth the payoff and I found myself at the end wanting to read more. In that sense it feels more like the first chapter of a novel as opposed to a short story but overall serves its purpose. The story is the interview, and the interview is what we get. All questions raised by said interview are to the author’s credit. I just hope she gives us a longer version of Darren Brown and his incredible gift.

A brilliant story, and one I’d certainly recommend. 4/5.

Under the Bright Water was perhaps my favourite in the Treading Twisted series. We follow Kaiyu, a man who suffers from a strange illness/ curse that makes him see dirt and grime where dirt and grime doesn’t exist. The concept is drawn, I assume, from germaphobia – which was my initial suspicion for Kaiyu’s suffering. I thought this to be a brilliant angle to approach a short story from, and one we seldom see. The author then turns this character trait into the driving force of the narrative when Kaiyu discovers a way in which to remain clean: by bathing in the Bright Waters.

Kaiyu himself ( I love that he’s the little boy from The Rat, and the man Darren Brown can hear most strongly in The Chosen Voice, this is fantastically subtle) is a very believable character. He has our instant sympathies in the opening paragraphs, and then continues to become loveable throughout his awkward interactions and his spiral into addiction. I found myself feeling much as the characters in the book feel towards Kai. At first a little dubious, but then very fond of the man. He’s a great character, and the author should be very proud of him.

On characters, however, I feel Under the Bright Water suffers from a few too many of them. The priests and such within the temple get a bit too many. And I found myself a little confused by one or two who only appeared semi-regularly and didn’t seem to add much. They didn’t detract either, but I felt the story didn’t really need some of them.

Overall, Under the Bright Water is a fantastic read, with a great premise, a believable and likeable protagonist, and a satisfying, if not bitter-sweet ending. I truly enjoyed this short story. Everyone should read it. 4.5/5

The Rat is quite a depressing story, and one that – unless you’re a monster – is thoroughly moving. The author plays on our sympathies as we’re dragged across a barren country alongside the Rat and his vindictive father. The Rat is 98% of the time only ever referred to as ‘the Rat’ but is, in fact, a 4 year old boy (Named Kaiyu). But we’re not told that straight away, and the first few pages we’re lead to believe that we’re perhaps following a magic rat that can slurredly speak. It quickly told you everything you needed to know about this child. He physically became a rat in my mind, I thought this was a brilliant stroke by the author.

The Father is another well crafted character, and certainly someone I’d never want to have to meet. I’m not a father myself, but I can’t imagine ever treating my child (or any child) the way he treated his own. He was a character that made my skin crawl, and my stomach flip. Readers be warned, there is no happy ending here. Only frustration and heart-break.

Where this story falls down is the over abundance of adjectives which I found really slowed the pace a bit. I felt that a lot of moments could have been a lot more suspenseful if there weren’t as many words. Even so, this is a great read, and I found myself really steaming through it to discover what happened next.

The setting remains the same as in The Chosen Voice, and I’m finding myself even more interested in it now. I’d really enjoy a much longer story in this world. A world I’ve come to think is set in the distant future. It’s not overtly stated, which I’m enjoying a lot.

Rating: 3.5/5 – A great story that could have had tighter prose.

Click here to check out the collection for yourself!

You can also read her review of Waking: Five Short Stories From the Sands here

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Derek, and the Adventure of Every Feeling I Own

I go to comedians to laugh, not to cry. But damn it, did Ricky Gervais make me do both.

Derek is a 2 series, 12 piece comedy-drama written and directed by Ricky Gervais. It focuses on protagonist Derek, a mentally challenged care-home worker with a heart bigger than the Mountain’s testis.

I’ve noticed the series being described as ‘bitter-sweet’ which is certainly a term one could use to describe this utter roller-coaster of a feels trip. Do you like sad old people? Do you like happy old people? Do you like happy/sad old people dying? Of course you don’t. But here’s a bunch of them. You’re not crying? What if we make this really sweet disabled man cry? That’ll do it. That’s enough to melt Captain Cold’s frosty heart. I’m not even going to talk about the dog with cancer. Ugly crying. So much ugly crying.

I knew going in this wasn’t your typical sit-com, if it can even be called that. Whilst the show’s packed full of laughs, I quickly found that it wasn’t trying to be either sad nor funny. It was trying to be real. Maybe a bit idealistically real, but that’s more to Gervais’s credit than anything else. The lesson, time and again, is why can’t we be more like Derek? Kind, thoughtful, happy, empathetic, and content. Derek isn’t only a shinning example of what we should all aspire to be, he’s a case study in brilliant acting, too.

I’ll admit, I’m not the biggest fan of Ricky Gervais, but I’m sure he doesn’t care about that – no skin off his very rich teeth. The Office wasn’t ever my cup of tea, nor have I particularly enjoyed any of his films. The only other show of his I can say I really enjoyed was The Ricky Gervais Show. But we’d all be lying if we said we liked that show for anything other than Karl Pilkington. (Speaking of, Pilkington did a wonderful job as nihilistic caretaker Dougie. It’s a shame he didn’t enjoy acting and left after the first series, even if he was just being himself.)

With all of that in mind; holy handbags can Ricky Gervais act. It’s a brave thing for any actor to embark on a role that requires them to represent a mentally handicapped person. But he tastefully kills it. It can be described as a slight caricature at times, but my immersion was never broken. I always believed he had a disability, to the point where I’m now not convinced that Ricky doesn’t actually have one.

If I could change one thing it’d be the talking heads. Plenty of them worked and we do get some really touching moments from them. Especially from Kev (David Earl), who’s an utterly detestable person in all but a handful of scenes. My main issue with the talking heads is Hannah (Kerry Godliman). Whilst Hannah has as much heart as Derek, I found her talking heads to be stale. Hers were the only moments that broke the immersion. Her dialogue is very stilted. It doesn’t flow. Too many full stops. It gets a bit dull. Not enough variety. In her delivery, I mean. I’ll stop that now, it’s not pleasant for anyone.

All in all, Derek is a brilliant little show with a fantastic cast and inspired writing. You’ll cry, so be prepared for that. Even if you’re not a Ricky Gervais fan, you’ll probably enjoy this show. I mean…I’m not arrogant enough to say you’ll definitely like it, but I can’t see what’s to dislike. Maybe you’re just heartless? Maybe you hate old people? Maybe you hate disabled people? Maybe you’re a terrible person, but that’s not for me to say.

I enjoyed Derek, and I’d recommend it. Savour it though. It’s short.

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Far Cry 4: Honey Badgers – I was not prepared

Man hath no monarch, no dictators, no totalitarian society near as heartless and brutal as the Honey Badger regime.

I’ve not been playing Far Cry 4 for all that long, but already I’m a quivering mess every time I interact with a honey badger. They’re brutal! My first encounter saw me burn down half a forrest just to end the bastard’s furry little life. I stupidly went into the fight armed with my trusty bow, thinking that something so small would cower before the might of my aim. How wrong I was. How naive and innocent.

What ensued can only be described as a war. A war as old as time. A war waged between man and beast. The honey badger and I met in Kyrat’s south-western region of Banapur, we locked eyes across a tree canopied plateau. To the east lay a sleepy village hamlet, its people kind, welcoming. They’d given me weapons for the adventure that lay ahead, but none had warned me of Scar.

Scar was half honey badger, full bad-ass. He wore a coat of midnight black and an ‘I don’t give a hotdog if you can see me’ white. He scurried from an emerald green bush into the clearing; his head held to the sky, sniffing me out like some hell hound with a penchant for blood. He had my number before I his; he knew what red cheeked child stood before him. What untested fool had stumbled into his lair. An easy meal. Another lamb fresh to the slaughter.

He came at me with fangs bared and claws flailing. I aimed my bow, a cocksure grin on my face. The first arrow struck true and I let fly a hearty ‘huzzar!’ But Scar was unscathed. He laughed, staring deep into my eyes as he used his clawed paws to pull the arrow from his flank and snap it betwixt muscled digits.

|”He came at me with fangs bared and claws flailing”|

The chase had began.

I screamed, a literal scream, as Scar flew at me with everything he had. Each time he landed a blow I said goodbye to a healthy chunk of my thighs, or buttocks. He was unrelenting, diligent, almost respectfully determined in his hared of me. In my panic I let arrows loose left, right, up and down. No direction was free of my haphazard projectiles. I landed a lucky shot, but Scar was still unfazed. Even with an arrow lodged firmly between his eyes, the whiskered avenger never slowed. He never wavered.

Our skirmish quickly grew to be a battle. And a battle became a war. We danced our way across the continent. He’d bite me, I’d fill him with lead, yet neither one of us succumbed to the other’s battery. There came a time when I grew to believe that Scar and I were destined to do this forever. To be locked in mortal combat until we became withered shells of the powerful entities we once were. He was my Joker, and I his Batman. My Khan to his Kirk. My day to his night. My burger to his weight problems.

Alas, fate said otherwise. Our final dance was had on a summer eve in the nomad foothills from whence our story had began. Banapur.

I was no longer the boy I had once been. Scar had robbed me of my innocence and beaten it bloody in a flurry of claws and teeth. He’d chased me across the world with hatred flowing through his veins. A hatred that was eating away at his heart like a cancer. He was a monster, devoid of anything anyone could ever call ‘mercy’ or ’empathy’. He was dead in all but practice.

He hissed, but I stood my ground. Time and torture making heavy my legs, stooping my back. He charged me, unbeknownst of the shrapnel treat I held cooking behind my back. I rolled the grenade out and dove for cover. The blast lifted soil into the sky and rained it down upon me in splats and chunks. I turned to see Scar, hurt by not dead. He came at me still, murder burning behind his eyes. With a quivering lip and tears blurring my vision, I pulled forth my grenade launcher and just…I just went to town.

Grenades everywhere. Pow, grenade. Bang, grenade. And that did it. Furry little git was dead. I skinned him, and would you believe… ‘damaged skin’. Turns our Scar had the last laugh after all.

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GREEN FLASH

Have you seen Arrow? Or The Flash for that matter? Or are you still watching your TV on a 4:3 analog? To be honest that’d be impressive, they don’t broadcast analog TV anymore. Well done, your ignorance is an accomplishment this time.

Arrow is a popular adaptation of DC Comic’s Green Arrow aired by The CW. It premiered in 2012 and stars Stephen Amell as the Batma– the Emerald Archer. Definitely not Batman…In most incarnations, Green Arrow is a billionaire playboy philanthropist, coasting off the trust fund of his successful businessman father. Only when said piggy bank is killed, does Bruce Wa– Oliver Queen turn to a life of justice and spandex.

The similarities between these two costumed vigilantes are striking, but the differences are plentiful. Oliver is stranded on a horrifying island where he undergoes five years of mental and physical torment, forging himself into a finely honed weapon. Bruce does something similar somewhere else, that’s not important.

What would usually separate the Bat from the Bow is their unique personalities. Batman is anti-social, brooding, serious. Green Arrow is a joker, flamboyant, lighthearted. But…this is an adaptation. And we don’t have Green Arrow…we have Arrow.

I’ve never been one to say, “Oh, that never happened in the book!” And if I do say that, I don’t mean it critically, only as an observation. When a text is adapted for the screen (be that the big screen or the small) liberties are taken. Some adaptations stay true to the source, Game of Thrones is a great example. Others are less truthful – maintaining the concept and little else (read: War of the Worlds). So I don’t mind if Oliver Queen isn’t the wise cracking, goatee wearing, boxing glove shooting swashbuckler that he’s made out to be in the comics. Having said that, there’s a brilliant boxing glove homage…just…brilliant. He’s his own man, a unique character that Stephen Amell and the writers of Arrow have built into something that’s fast becoming as recognisable as the original Green Arrow.

At times the writing can be very soap opera-esque, but that’s OK. Because Oliver shoots people with arrows. And, generally, the stories are solid. For example (and this is a spoiler) it was uncharacteristically brave of a popular TV show to all but kill off the protagonist in the mid-season finale. That’s right. Oliver basically dies when he takes Ra’s Al Ghul’s sword right through the belly. Then the bastard kicked our hooded (but not very hooded) hero off a mountain. We didn’t see Oliver in the next episode, only his worried team struggling to carry on with an unsure future. Obviously he wasn’t gone for long – but that doesn’t make the move any less brave.

With great writing, a brilliant cast, and a well spent budget, how the damn could the CW make things any better? With a dash of lighting, that’s how. Can you smell the cheese? That’s good cheese, that.

I’ll be honest, I don’t know a great deal about Barry Allen’s adventures as the Crimson Bolt. I heard once that there’s an arc that involves him running so fast he becomes the lightning bolt that gave him his powers. I know he can outrun Superman (my favourite DC character), and is quite possibly the most OP hero you could imagine. Super healing? Check. Time travel? If he can run fast enough, apparently check. How do you stop someone like that? As The Flash’s villains are finding, you don’t. You decide that a life of crime was probably a poor choice when you live in a city protected by the human incarnation of The Road Runner draped in red leather. So instead you settle for a 9-5, meet a nice girl or guy, buy a home in the ‘burbs, make some kids, get a mortgage, and die happy at the ripe age of 87 having lived a long and fulfilling life, surrounded by your loved ones. Or you rob an old lady and have The Flash call you an idiot when they’re hauling you off to Iron Heights. Meep Meep.

Grant Gustin is about six months older than me, and holy damn can the boy act. You know when you see someone around your own age who’s just doing so much better than you? Most times it’s disheartening, but in this occasion it’s hard to be jealous. He looks like such a likeable guy, you can’t be jealous because you’re just happy for him. He looks like the sort of guy you could just kick back with and watch an episode of Arrow, or The Flash. He brings a natural charisma to the role that doesn’t want for depth or much changing at all. It’s a rare case wherein the actor isn’t finding the character, there’s no teething problems here, Grant found Barry instantly. From his first appearance in Arrow, he’s been spot on every moment he’s on-screen. So well done Grant Gustin, you magical red bastard, you.

My only real critique of both Arrow and The Flash would be the way in which the shows are structured.

A new villain is introduced at the start of each episode. Most of the time some vague costumed villain dug up from the DC archives. A crime’s committed, Barry/ Oliver investigate with the help of their respective teams, they have an encounter, lose said encounter but learn more about the villain. They’ll either have another bout and the villain will get away again, or we’ll focus on personal dramas like love interests of family woes, and then the final encounter is had and Barry/ Oliver win the day. All the while the main arc of the season will gradually become less and less obscure.

It’s a tried and tested formula, but it gets a bit tiresome and predictable. I’d like to see some more variety but I don’t have a hugely successful TV show on the air, so what do I know?

Overall, both shows are fantastic. If you’re after something new to sink your teeth into, then I’d chow down on a bit of Green Flash.

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My Ninth Novel, a Short Extract, and TEFL

My first blog post of 2017 and it comes towards the end of January. I’m a slacker when it comes to blogs and social media, but let’s not talk about that.

Last Friday (the 27th) I finished the first draft of my 9th Novel, Let’s Kill the Gravedigger. Since leaving my job in TV and focusing on writing full-time whist I decide what I want to do with my life, I’ve discovered the style of stories I love to write: whimsical sci-fi. I didn’t talk about it on here, but I wrote my eighth book in late 2016, A Postman’s Guide to Monster Hunting, and fell in love with the idea of wacky people in far-fetched scenarios.

Here’s a little taste of A Postman’s Guide:

“I don’t care. You’re being punished! And restoration’s not the half of it.” She leant forward and pressed a button on her desk, speaking into a microphone, “Bring him in.”

“What is this?” Reginald’s eyes narrowed, a pit materialising in his stomach.

“I’m teaching you how to work with others if it kills me. Or you.” She stood and straightened her blazer, the medals on her breast jangling. Reginald twisted in his chair to face the door, watching as it opened.

“Oh, bugger that!” he said, moustache twitching, as he laid eyes on a rosy-cheeked boy. Near enough five foot six with crop cut black hair and wide, brown eyes, the boy wore a pair of shorts just above the knee and socks pulled halfway up his shins. His shirt crisp and brown, with sewn badges on the right bicep and the Multi-Mail Corp insignia on the breast pocket. A rolled cloth hung around his neck, a wooden toggle keeping it in place. A Postal-Scout.

“Reginald Crawford-James, meet Toby Twigg.” Durand’s lips curled into a sadistic grin as she soaked in Reginald’s drawn face.

“Gosh blimey, Mr Crawford-James, sir. A pleasure to meet you, I should think!” Toby bounced forward with his hand extended.

With a scoff, Reginald glanced between the fragile hand and the boy’s smooth-cheeked face. He turned back to Durand. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Toby Twigg is on work experience, he’s Sandra’s nephew.”

“Which Sandra?”

“Sandra Twigg.”

Reginald nodded. “Yes, I should’ve guessed that.”

“I’m rather excited to assist in any way I can, Mr Crawford-James, sir! Gosh blimey, am I ever!” Toby smiled a toothy grin, pumping his arm in a mocking, rounded punch.

“He’s from your dimension,” said Durand, “so you should have plenty in common. You’ll show him everything a Restoration Postman does and, hopefully, you’ll each learn a thing or two.”

Wetting his lips, Reginald leant forward in the chair, ignoring the squelch of the leather. “I must say, I’m not a babysitter. The multiverse is a dangerous place, far too dangerous for Postal-Scout-Sandara-nephews!”

“It’s this or crucifixion,” said Durand, her tone taking on a bored lace.

“I’m a miff better than crucifixion, I should think!” Toby lightly punched Reginald’s arm and threw his head back, laughing.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Reginald growled, jaw clenching.

I find myself moving away from serious science fiction and more into fun, adventure filled romps. Let’s Kill the Gravedigger is in a very similar vein to Postman’s Guide, and both exist within the same multiverse. For now, though, I’m going to be focusing on the books I’ve already written before undertaking another big project.

If itchy fingers were a thing akin to itchy feet, I’d certainly have it. Ideas have never been a problem for me, I get a handful a day. So when I get stuck on an idea, I can’t focus on anything else until I’ve written it. No more! I’ve got more than enough work to be getting on with, I don’t need to be creating more for myself. Time to buckle down and focus on an idea and make it the best I can.

Moving away from writing, I’ve found what I want to do as a ‘day job’. I’m going to become an EFL teacher (English as a foreign language). I’ve been taking an online course since late December and hope to be done by early to mid February. My brother’s getting married in April, but after that I’ll be looking for jobs all over the world, teaching people how to read and write.

Pretty excited about everything that’s happening right now!