My own self

"I am prepared to die."
"Good. I'm prepared to kill you."

- Darth Kruhl and Emperor-in-Exile Roan Fel

If you're anything like me at all, you enjoy the idea of Star Wars more than the actual movies. By that I mean the archetypes, the grand mythos, the entire world that we were shown in the movies more than the mere plots inside them should indicate. Sure, Empire Strikes Back is a pretty great movie, but mostly, what these movies have going for them can be summed up in cool concepts: The lightsabers, the space-fights, the lasergun-slingers, the Jedi Order protecting a corrupt galaxy, the Sith Order trying to rule it, the Grand Moffs cooly ordering genocides, the Jedi Spirits, the Death Star, the roaring Wookie, the Force, and just about everything about Darth Vader. These things are all awesome, and they, in addition to the common appeal of legend/fairytalesque plots in general, are why I find these movies to be such an important part of my DVD-collection.

Because of enjoying these concepts, I've at many points in my life delved into the chasm of entertainment that is the Star Wars Expanded Universe. There are novels, short stories, comics, video games, computer games, and TV-series. And a whole bunch of other stuff. I've mainly kept with the novels and the comics, though I should say both the TV-serials based upon the Clone Wars, one of which is still on-going, are surprising me with their level of quality.

Now, I've by no means read all the novels and comics, I've not even read all the good ones - believe you me, there are many not so good ones out there too - but I've read enough to have a basic grasp of the history of the gigantic Star Wars universe. It goes back to millenia before the prequel-movies, and covers events during, between and even after the six films of Lucas' making. And for the most part, it all fits together in a gigantic continuity. The latter appeals to me a lot, because I'm an anal crazy-person.

Anyway, to get to the point, even though books and comics have previously ventured pretty far ahead into the time after Return of the Jedi, they never went beyond the years were the good old main characters could reasonbly be expected to be active. Until Star Wars Legacy. Legacy jumps a full century ahead in time from the last point we have previously been told stories from - a point which was already a good three decades after he final film - and introduces us to a very changed Star Wars-universe. New characters, new allegiances, new conflicts. So does it work?

Holy crap, yes! And the why is the concepts. There are lightsabers, there are Jedi, there are Sith, there are evil Moffs and Jedi Spirits, the whole shebang. These familiar, tantalizing concepts have in Legacy been put into a completely new environment, which harkens back to and descends from but is still very different when compared to the good old days of Palpatine's Empire. There are three branches of Force-users now - the Jedi, who are much like they were in their glory days of the Old Republic. The Imperial Knights, who do not adhere to the light- and dark-side philosophies but rather swear loyalty to the Emperor personally over any one value-system. The Emperor is a descendent from the Fel-family, a major group of characters in the novels and comics taking place after Return of the Jedi, who apparently at some point became the heads of what was left of Palpatine's Empire. Now, this Emperor is not a bad guy, if anything, he's rather benevolent. But he was usurped by a new and changed Sith Order who also extinguished most of the Jedi Knights, making Legacy start out in a world with a handful of Jedi, vast armies of Sith, and a third group of Force-users supporting the now Emperor-in-Exile.

And then there's a new Skywalker, who is a little bit like Han Solo would be if he had had basic Jedi training and was really, really grumpy. Together with all of these pieces come plots which, while maybe not brilliant, are far more intricate and interesting than most of the linear storylines of the original movies.

After three volumes, I'm well and truly hooked, and I will continue trying to set aside money to buy these TPBs. Legacy has breathed new life into the Star Wars-universe for me - and it has even retroactively made things that happen before it more interesting, as the century-long gap of information preceding it is now basically just begging to be filled. Where did Luke go? What about Leia? And all their children?

If you have any interest in Star Wars and think you could enjoy a comic with new characters and new plots but the same good old concepts that drew you to the original movies in the first place, I suggest you check out Legacy. If not, well, I'm thoroughly impressed you managed to stay interested throughout the entire post!

There are many opinions about most authors, but Terry Goodkind and his fantasy novel series The Sword of Truth is probably more divisive than most. Many love his books almost unconditionally, and many hate them outright. The reasons why are easy to see on both sides. (And there is no specific spoilers of anything major in this post, you can read on with relative safety)

You see, on the one hand, Goodkind has a deft ability to paint a rich, colourful universe where the fantasy archetypes are many and common but frequenting in versions distinctly Goodkind's own. There is something truly entoxicating about this for me as a reader - it is at once familiar and new, at once predictable and surprising, to explore his world and his characters. Add to his ability a capacity for plots that sometimes make quite interesting segues, an excellent ability to convey the beacons of hope still shining whilst pounding gruesome acts onto the narrative with horrific pathos, and a knack for writing quotable dialogue, one shouldn't have too much problems getting into the mindset of the stalwart Goodkind-fan.

Then you have the other hand, and I dare say, it's equally blemishing as the former is good. The following paragraph will thus be longer, because while what is good is easily described in a sentence, what's bad usually begs context and explanation to a much larger extent.

While Goodkind does indeed flesh out his world impressively, there is a spontaneity to it that sometimes makes it feel as though certain elements are thrown in haphazardly. This adds to the rich fairy-tale-like flavour of the world, but often get at a mood-wise odds with the increasingly logical and structured universe we're shown as the series progresses. This is a minor point, but it can be quite annoying at times to have a painter who can inexplicably make his drawings come to life in one book, and then have very strict rules about how to become a wizard and how wizards use their magic in another. The difference between the magic of a wizard, a sorceress and a war wizard is explained in complex detail, but the sorceror and the witch-woman is thrown in without further nuancing.
Another point in Goodkind's disfavour is the lack of originality to his main plots. Yes, the defender would as I did in the previous paragraph point out a quite excellent ability to make up for this with often quite well done twists, turns and variations along the way, but the fact remains that when you strip it down, Goodkind's plots are very, very simple and predictable. There is the hero, there is his old and wise yet amusing and quirky mentor, there is his bonny lass (who, whilst very much a capable protagonist in her own right, all too frequently gets in severe trouble which requires rescuing), and there is the big horrid villain. He's also been accused of copying Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time, and while some things are indeed of baffling similarities, it's always struck me as silly to claim he took them from someone else. Why would he? When you show the capability to construct and write thousand-page-narratives, why would you need to mimick the name of a prophecy or an organisation of female users of magic? Far more likely I find this to merely be a product of two authors writing at approximately the same time, in approximately the same style, in approximately the same genre. The conventions are clear, and they both use them thoroughly. When that happens, you will end up with similarities. But Jordan never copyrighted the magic sword or the powerful group of witches. (He might have copyrighted the concept that they should all have annoying personalities, though, I should look that up...)
The third, and by far greatest problem with Goodkind's writing is his very strong ideological and philosophical standpoints. It is his right as an author to place these in his work, and I see no issues with that. The problem enters when it obstructs the narrative. His earlier books didn't suffer from this - the messages were there, sometimes subtle, sometimes not, but they were still messages you read through and from what happened. In more recent years, likely due to increased popularity and thus laxer editing enforced by his publishers, Goodkind has slowly slipped more and more outright preaching into his stories. Speech-giving by characters only work so often, and after a while, it kills the pace of the story. For people who disagree strongly with the messages given, then, it also becomes harder to look past or interpret differently for those who would wish to do so. I'm sure that Goodkind's somewhat arrogant demeanor in interviews and ridiculous claims such as him not writing fantasy at all, but something somehow grander due to his political agenda, have only strengthened such negative reactions. Many people, then, quite intensely dislike Goodkind's series of books.

Me, I quite like them. At times, often in recent books, I find his preaching to be annoying, unnecessary and demeaning to his characters, but there is no denying that the sheer zeal Goodkind puts into his writing due to this opportunity for him to share his enthusiastic propaganda, that zeal sometimes puts a fire in the story that would probably not be there without it. Yes, it sometimes goes horribly wrong, and that's a shame and poor writing from his side. (More importantly, since they're usually things easily fixed, they're bad editing from whomever is supposed to keep his artistical whims a little under control) And yes, I agree with virtually nothing in Goodkind's hardcore individualistic view of the world. But no, I don't see this as purely a problem. The end of his sixth volme, Faith of the Fallen, is wonderously emotional for me to read, and this is exclusively due to the amount of idealism and outright propaganda for his own way of seeing the world Goodkind filled that story with. In other words, this is a valid point against much of his work, and certainly one of the strongest reasons he'll never be among my favourite authors. But it doesn't automatically remove the fact that behind it, there is often a surprising amount of quality - especially in the earlier books when the propaganda was still toned heavily down. To me, the good sides of Goodkind's books are stronger, bigger, better than the bad ones, and unless his writing degenerates completely, I will keep reading and looking forward to the new volumes for as long as I have time to read fiction. Not as my first, second or third priority. But somewhere down the list, well above the books I think that "well, one day, if I have time, I'll read those" when I glance at, there you'll find Goodkind, and he's not going anywhere.

So where am I going with all this? Well, ABC is out with a TV-series that is based off of these stories(for now, obviously, limited to the first book), and today I watched the double-episode pilot.

My expectations were rather low. Sam Raimi is listed as the creator, and while he might have spawned occasional brilliance in his day as well as being responsible for the awesome Spider-man 2, there is no denying this man has touched a lot of cheese as well over the years. In my head, Raimi's cheese combined with the controlling influence of Goodkind could go nowhere truly good.

Well, as of yet, it hasn't - but it hasn't gone anywhere bad either. Because there is virtually no cheese at all. Sure, there's cheese if you consider the mere fact that there is a main villain, a budding hero, a damsel in distress and a mysterious old wizard running around on screen, but if they hadn't had that, this would have been a horrid trip away from the source material that nobody in their right minds would have approved of. Just because something's been done so often that the mere thught of doing it again seems like such a clichè it gets called corny and cheesy from the get-go doesn't mean it can't be done well. I've seen nothing so far that makes me think these guys won't do it well. Thus, in my opinion, no cheese here, except for a few overly dramatical uses of the score and one special-effects-shot that was a little over the top. That's it, and in an hour and a half of televised high-budget fantasy, that's nothing to fret about at all.

Beyond the lack of cheese, as well as a (much more expected) lack of the obvious propaganda of Goodkind's later books, there was one additional pleasant surprise. Of course the plot would be changed to fit the new medium, but I expected (as one tends to do) all such changes to be exclusively bad. Most were. However, two of them were very good indeed. Allowing us to see Kahlan's sister in the beginning is an added incentive to care for Kahlan's character and mission that made the series start off at a better note than it otherwise would. The second one is bigger, and shapes the plots of both the first two episodes; one of Kahlan's hunters survives and becomes a tangible, human threat on the "safe" side of the border.

For each of these two good changes, there were a good dozen bad ones, some of them somewhat understandable, somewhat less so. Not to spoil anyone who have not read the books nor seen the pilot (it does surprise me that you still have the stamina to read this if this is the case, by the way) I will not go into detail on antyhing so changed that is plot-related. Suffice to say that I have no idea why the part of memorizing the book couldn't have been included, as it is probably the main clever twist to an otherwise straightforward narrative in the original. On the less plot-related changes, especially annoying was the inexplicable choice to have Darken Rahl's hair be black rather than light blonde (probably to avoid making Craig Parker look like he did as Haldir in the Lord of the Rings-movies, sigh), and his men from a seemingly quite dark, medieval society rather than the sandy, light country of the books. I chalk this up to somebody's decision that hey, people won't get that they're evil if they don't have dark hair and live in poorly lit castles.

The characters were well done, to a one, even if the plot moved far too quickly for any of them to ever have any particularly interesting or cool scenes. In lieu of this, I was pleasantly surprised to see how much screentime was given to characters such as Chase, Michael and George. Zedd, my favourite character, was well enough done, and by the fairly renowned actor Bruce Spence, but he was never given a chance to sparkle with the little things that makes his character awesome in the books. If things such as that is allowed to happen as the series progresses, it will gain a lot more favour in my eyes.

So far, so good. I'm not impressed, but considering my very low expectations, I must admit to a certain feeling of reassurance. This probably won't be an awesome TV-show, but it won't make the books look too bad, and it might even get pretty good in its own right as it gets a few more episodes to stand on. It also might not, but no reason not to stay positive has been shown me yet, so I prefer to give it the benefit of the doubt. After all, as a huge fan of the first book of this series, I'm a viewer highly prepared to pick apart every little weakness I think could have been avoided, and a viewer who at the same time knows the basic outline of every little bit of the plot before it happens. In other words; the good stuff is expected, the bad stuff not. Making a favourable impression on me should be pretty hard for these guys, and yet, I did not dislike it as the pilot came to an end. Some things bugged me greatly, of course, but nothing happened to make me outright angry or disappointed. I will be quite interested to now follow and see this show develop into something that will actually make an impact on me - either by disappointing the small hopes I'm now allowing myself to feel, or by satisfying them by becoming genuinely worth my while.

A very strong 6.5/10 with a clear potential to reach both a 4 and an 8 within few more episodes.

The canon status of Batman Confidential is apparently questionable, as it deals with telling the stories of major events during Batman's long history, like first meetings between big characters, introductions of staple objects in the Batman mythos, and the like, but seems to, most clearly in their re-telling of The Joker's origin story, be on contradicting terms with established continuity. Despite this, I ended up giving it a read, quite frankly thinking the premise sounded interesting despite by dislike of non-canon material.

The first story arc published in Batman Confidential was Rules of Engagement, which chronicles Bruce Wayne's first meeting with Lex Luthor early in the Batman's career. A very well done story that not only beautifully contrasted the personalities of the DC Universe's most high profile billionaire geniuses but also told a rather believable story of the Batman's first exposure to a sci-fi-level high tech villain, his first team-up with Lucius Fox as Bruce Wayne, and his acquiring the Batwing. True and true a good story that I enjoyed enough to get right on the next one, Lovers and Madmen.

Now this one is a controversial one. It tells us how The Joker came about, but in a very new way. In this incarnation of his origin, Batman created him. "Jack" was an excellent shot, a gifted criminal, an intelligent and able man who never messed up a job. But he was tired of it all, finding no more joy or meaning in his work, and being on the verge of assisted suicide. Then he sees Batman - this man who, while dressed in a silly costume, acts more serious than anyone - and crime becomes fun again. But not perfect, untraceable crime, no - random, brutal crime that pays off in monetary ways only secondary to being unpredictable and gruesome. Batman, towards the end of his first year in the job, becomes first frustrated, then desperate, as he realises that this man is not a criminal he can logically deduct the actions of, but a true madman, and he's at a complete loss for what to do. So he decides to let the mob kill this unpredictable Jack-persona. Beautifully baked into the plot is a romantic subplot where Bruce Wayne meets a woman who makes him sleep all through the night for the first time since his parents were killed. Regretting his decision to cross the line into actively encouraging murder, Batman tries to stop the gangsters, but Jack has already broken free and overpowered them all. The mob boss shoots at him, missing and hitting a tank of chemicals that spill over the Joker, and he's caught under the chemical water for almost five minutes before emerging having swum through the sewer-system, his hair green and his skin white, looking at the moon and laughing maniacally as he finds its face looks like a bunny.
I liked this story, but I must admit, Batman killing someone and also not having predicted the truly insane criminal in all his years of training does, as the would-be-Scarecrow Dr. Crane comments in the story, seem odd. Further, I feel that I can't tell what the chemicals did to really change Jack, other than give him a gimmick. His newfound crimes of joy and brutality were already there, and the change into the Joker was so gradual I didn't really feel like it ever had the potency it could have had. Still, a well-crafted and entertaining story - that also sees the invention of the Batcomputer, sarcastically named by Mr. Pennyworth. I might just keep following this book.

"It's a big serious world out there; nothing to laugh about. Not ever. You must teach the children to fear, teach them to tremble. Teach them to be cruel. Teach them to be the danger in the dark. Hide in the shadows, then pounce or spring or leap or drop, and always kill. You know what the true meaning of life is?"
"Um," said Fat Charlie. "Is it love one another?"

Sitting down to read a novel by Neil Gaiman is an odd experience for me. In one way, it feels like I've read a good bunch of his stuff, but on the other, I feel like I've only read one actual novel. I've read his Sandman-series, but that is after all graphic novels compiled of many shorter stories, and thus very different from a normal novel. I've read Good Omens, but that book is co-written by Terry Pratchett and Pratchett's familiar satirical style was far more apparent to me in the reading experience than the more versatile Gaiman. I've read Odd and the Frost Giants, but that's a children's novel, and a short one at that. I've seen Beowulf, but he only co-wrote the script on that, and it's additionally based off of an ancient poem as well as being a movie, not a novel. Though you get a good impression of his tastes, I can't really claim to feel that having watched Princes Mononoke where he penned the English-language script taught me that much of his own writing style either. The movie that is indeed based on his own work that I've seen and loved, Stardust, had a script written by someone else, and I haven't yet read Gaiman's original tale. I've read his short story Monarch of the Glen, but that is a short story, not a novel, and one about a character I know from a previous work of his on top of that. That previous work, American Gods, is the only "proper" novel I feel I've actually read, in the sense that it's the only one that I feel have given me a clear image of how the man writes when on his own, unimpaired by a selective audience, a source material or a studio, and uninfluenced by a co-author.

And American Gods is probably the best single-volume fantasy novel I've ever read.

Thus I started Anansi Boys, torn between too high expectations and little expectations at all. Well, I'll say this straight up: I was not disappointed.

Anansi Boys is not at all like American Gods despite being set in the same universe. It's about the sons of a secondary character from American Gods, and how they cope with meeting each other. Mostly it's about one of them, a dreadfully shy and naive man named Charlie. Anansi Boys is a comedy, and though it's a comedy that sometimes ventures into darker places than most, it's still a light-hearted and easy read that I finished in a week. (A mind-boggling pace for me and my reading-habits in recent years) It's a story about family, about the relationship between parents and children and grown siblings who might not quite like each other, and about how it's all just terribly embarrassing.

The book (pretty naturally) reminded me a good bit of Good Omens, the other silly but somewhat dark novel of Gaiman's I've read. Turns out that a lot of the humour I thought of as Pratchett'y is also there in Gaiman's writing, but more laid-back. The type of humour is often the same as in Good Omens, but most of the time it's underhanded and as-a-matter-of-fact-ly phrased, which in its own way adds to the charm. While big parts of the plot were pretty obvious and easy to figure out ahead of time, this only barely subtracted from my enjoyment of the story as the joy in reading Anansi Boys is in following the characters to their finish line, not guessing fruitlessly what the finish line will be.

In no way as brilliantly memorable as the vastly complex and often sombre American Gods, Anansi Boys never tries to be. It's a fun, heart-warming and entertaining story of two brothers, and it sucked me in to not let go until I was on the final page. And it once again verified that Neil Gaiman is a man who can write just about anything and do so well.

Now, if I could only get around to reading Neverwhere as well...

The only difference between a dream and a nightmare is how big your balls are, bitch.

- The Fox

So, seeing as I was planning on watching the loose movie adaptation of Wanted in the cinema in the upcoming week, I figured I'd give the original graphic novel a try first.

The premise was interesting, and the artwork by J. G. Jones was easy on the eyes. Seeing as it's additionally written by Mark Millar, I had rather high expectations to this, considering what I've read of his work before. Millar's DC Elseworld story Red Son featuring a "what is Superman landed in Stalnist Russia?"-premise was amazing, his recent major Marvel event Civil War was actually very good for a mainstream superhero giga-crossover, his original run at Ultimate X-men was exhilarating and often quite moving, and The Ultimates, especially the second installment, is simply awesome.

Thus, I must say, this was quite the disappointment. With Wanted, Millar is doing his completely own thing, writing with his own characters in a universe he made up himself. It's ironic, then, that one of the main strengths I see in the book is actually the ofttimes clever way he alludes to mainstream DC and Marvel characters and continuity. (Sadly, it often goes horribly wrong and just comes off as stupid or juvenile, like for instance his imitation of Scarface and Two-Face) In particular characters like his Mr. Richter deserves credit for being a funny and charismatic villain reminiscent of characters like Batman's "Black Mask" or Cap's "Red Skull", but not exactly like either of them nor a stupid parody. Another excellent character is Doll-Master, a character blatantly ripped off of DC's Toyman, but much more interesting and charming than Toyman ever was. Still, you're more often than not left sitting with the feeling that this'd be a lot more interesting if it had the original characters instead of Millar's homages, parodies and copies.

The plot of this comic, without spoiling more than your average blurb would, is that a normal pushover wussy office rat learns his father was a supervillain and willed him a fortune on the condition that his son learned to be a supervillain too, being trained by a secret society of such. The story is actually quite intoxicating, sucking you in, making you want to read on, see what happens next. The problem is that what happens next is (almost) never particularly interesting beyond making you want to see what happens after that again.

The reason for this is that Millar's created an interesting world for the story, but plotted it along the life of a main character totally devoid of any form of charisma, allure or even agenda for me as the reader to get excited about. All he does is kill people. There's no elaborate planning, no finesse, no charm, no interesting and complex motivations. The character simply has no draw to him, there's no... je ne sais quoi, nothing of interest. Just a hell of a lot of potential for interest that keeps you going. But by the end of the book, the potential's gone unrealized and the character's more boring and unappealing than ever. It doesn't exactly help that he's drawn to look like Eminem.


A little more spoilers from this paragraph on, if you're phobic you should skip to the last one. What happens, you see, is that our main character becomes a remorseless rapist sociopath. Fair enough. Why? Because he can, because the world's always screwed him over and he figures he can now screw it back. Fair enough again. How? By doing stuff like killing random people in the street. Alright. Also fair enough, I suppose. And then what?

Well, and then nothing. That's the problem. Wanted is the story of how a boring wuss became a boring bully. That's all he is at the end of this story. A rich, remorseless, super-powered bully with no intelligence or charm to his actions, nothing to keep the reader connected to him.

Oddly, Millar seems to think I'd somehow envy this guy. The story ends with the protagonist breaking the fourth wall, addressing the reader, accusing him of having as empty a life as he had in the beginning, and that reading about others doing things like he's been doing in this story is the illusion used to fill up the meaningless drone life. I suppose it's intended to make me feel provoked, or insulted, or maybe make me reconsider some priorities or something. All it does, honestly, is make me go "fuck, this man is stupid." If anyone in this story wanted to tell me a line like that, it needed to be one of the heads of the five families, or possibly Doll-Master. Heck, even the protagonist's father, whom he turns into an almost identical replica of, was a little bit more interesting than the guy we've been following throughout this. All the ending leaves me with is a feeling of "this was it?" I read five issues to get to the point where character-development as a concept is non-existent, the only interesting characters are killed by the most boring ones, and then one of the boring ones claim that my life is empty compared to his? Really Millar, Fredegar Bolger had a more interesting role in The Lord of the Rings than Wesley Gibson had here.


Thus, I'm sucked through five issues of action, constantly feeling as though the cool moments, the truly awesome entertainment, are all right around the corner. But in the end, all I'm left with are secondary characters who for the most part were more interesting in their original DC incarnations, stupid plot-devices like when Sucker doesn't know when 24 hours have passed since he did something but the protagonist who wasn't present at the instance somehow does standing in for what should be genuinely cool character moments, and a main character who was a million times less interesting than the badguys he fought but just as morally reprehensible, giving me no reason to root for him whatsoever. I know the movie is supposed to make him into more of a hero, but honestly, I've kind of lost all the drive I had to watch it.

I believe "swashbuckling" to be the first word that comes to mind, trying to recapitulate my thoughts on this book by Scott Lynch.

Sound familiar? It should, it was also how I started my review of the first book of the series. It's even more true of this second one - it's got actual pirates.


There is not that much to say about this book that's not already said in my review of it's predecessor. Mostly, I'm writing this post to give a brief mention of the things someone who has read the first one and is unsure what to expect would maybe like to know.

First, it's good. The funny is there just as much as in the first book. The plot is as intricate and twisting, if not more so, and you care about the characters involved.

Second, it's not as good as the first one, for the one obvious reason everyone who's read The Lies of Locke Lamora could easily imagine. That said, it does a good job at compensating for this necessary shortcoming.

Third, the Over The Top Awesome At What They Do characters are somewhat less omnipresent in this book than in the first one, one of my few complaints have thus been soothed somewhat. The tendency is still there, but mellowed down just enough so that it's just fun for having so many awesome characters and not annoying for having so many invincible characters. There's a slight line between invincible and awesome in this kind of stories, but Lynch is walking it far better here than in the first book.

Fourth, it's main flaw is a cheap and stupid plot-device that does not contribute anything to the story and is just there as sensationalist bullshit to fool the reader. This was well beneath the book's dignity, and is by far its greatest blemish in my opinion.

Fifth - despite that - well, you should just go read it. Seriously. If you liked the first one, you will like this one. It is not as fantastic - how could it be - but it does not in any way disappoint. At least it didn't disappoint me. If anything, it sucked me in far more quickly than the first one managed.

Richer and cleverer than everyone else.

A year and a month and a week ago, I was fifty pages into Steven Erikson's The Bonehunters. A week ago today, I finished reading it. This should give you some vague comprehension of how true it is every time I moan about how little fiction I read these days.

Of course, it's not all me. The long, at times almost tedious build-ups are what I expect from Erikson, he's never not done them. Still, when you have little go-read-spirit to summon, they don't help. I must say, though, Bonehunters was, in a way, better than others, despite my insanely slow read of it. This because it had a very grand convergence at the middle of the book (the siege of Y'Ghatan) as well as the traditional one at the end. This did mean that the end was less overwhelmingly awesome than some of the other books' endings, sure, but I felt it was still far sufficient to make it worth getting there.

The build-up before Y'Ghatan was the slow part, for me (it took me ten months - that's right, compared to a month and a half for the remaining 60% of the book), but it was not nearly as confusing, slow-paced or verging on uninteresting as, say, the first 20% of books one or two of the series. It was just Erikson being Erikson, and I kind of feel like anyone reading this series should expect that form of slow build-up by now. I certainly did.

Reading an online review the comment I wrote to which this post is largely based on, I realised that wow, yeah, there's a lot of philosophy and musings in this series. Unlike that reviewer, I barely noticed it in this particular book. Mostly, probably, because I find it interesting and appealing. I clearly remember noticing this stuff far more in Midnight Tides. The characters who do these musings are the clearly intelligent, far-sighted individuals (of which there are a lot, we get - thankfully - a vast over-representation of the skilled and intelligent in our POVs of the books) and to me, them having such thoughts when faced with this much pain and destruction seems logical or even inevitable. The few trinkets of wisdom or insight handed out by the less impressive or clever people are dependent on just that - being said by someone with a particular, narrow but often specialized view of the world. So I don't mind those either.

I kind of liked Bottle, the main new character of the book, though I tired a little of him by the end. Ganoes Paran kept growing more interesting in this one, though, which is very good, and we got more insight into Tavore and Laseen both, which is also awesome. Fiddler really shone in this one, and while Quick Ben has had better books, he's always a welcome addition. Kalam has had better books too, but he made up for it by the end. Finally, Shadowthrone and Cotillion really come to the foreground now, clearing up a lot of things, and generally being fun.

An issue with the series is how the exponential pathos that is Erikson's trademark is starting to undermine itself. Heboric's pain in this one, for instance, felt a little bit like it rehashed the fate of the Shield Anvil of Memories of Ice, only bigger and worse. Still, the tendency is still one that's infrequent enough that it doesn't bother me thoroughly.

A very welcome choice in Bonehunters was to bring the action and narrative back to the areas and people we're the most familiar with, after the trip to Lether in Midnight Tides. It also brilliantly sewed the plots of Midnight Tides together with the rest of the series, so that the upcoming volume taking place back on Lether seems less of a break from the ongoing story than it could have done.

All in all I thoroughly enjoyed and I daresay even loved the book, and I'm looking as much forward to Reaper's Gale as ever. I'm also really wanting to get my hands on The Lees of Laughter's End, the only novella set in the universe I still haven't read, and starting to look a lot forward to Esslemont's Return of the Crimson Guard. In short, my Malazan-enthusiasm is once again rekindled to a big, roaring flame. I hope it'll last so that my next venture into the universe will last less than a year.

Free book! Would you believe it? And by Neil Gaiman!


This is what I thought walking into Outland - the local comic book/fantasy book shop - and realising they had this book laying for free on the counter in relation to something called the "World Book Day". Well, thank you very much indeed.


The book was a quick read, I read it that same afternoon, being slightly under one hundred pages and clearly written for a somewhat younger audience. With this in mind, I really liked it.

I mean, it's hardly a masterpiece of any sort. But it is charming, and Gaiman once again makes good use of his excellent knowledge of Norse mythology (and yes, I feel qualified to judge that) as he tells the short and simple story of a crippled fatherless Viking lad saving the world from eternal winter.

The book is consistently entertaining and engaging, and kept me interested from the beginning to the end. There were no surprising twists to mention, no big and shocking reveals, but it still, somehow, sucked me in and kept me turning the pages until it suddenly was done.

I should imagine this is an excellent bedtime-type of book to read to children while keeping the adult reading it out loud entertained as well.


I didn't pay one dime for this book, but whomever did, I thank them. It was well worth the money.

(Yes, Olaf, I'm doing both. ^^ Am I just the nicest or what?)

For those nil point fourteen of my readers who don't know, The Order of the Stick is a quite excellent webcomic by Rich Burlew. The comic blends traditional roleplaying-game-humour rather seamlessly (and impressively) with the humouristic fantasy story-approach. By that I mean that while the characters will make jokes and comments about saving throws, D20s, monster manuals and gaining levels, they will also have character-, plot- and situation-based humour. As the series has progressed and the characters and the plot has grown, the weight has shifted from the former to the latter, but both are still very much present in the comic. The other - rather ingenious, actually, in all its simplicity - rather unique idea in this comic is that there are no roleplaying-players. It's the characters themselves who talk about their levels, the new rulebooks and the like. In effect, this creates a world that everybody who's a little bit of a geek (and let us face it, those who aren't would never read this) will feel intuitively comfortable with as it plays on literally all the stereotypes used in traditional fantasy RPGs, while being incredibly unique by embracing RPG-mechanisms as actual in-world laws of physics. Levels, stats and dice-throws are, to these characters and this world, real.

Currently at its 550th strip, The Order of the Stick has developed quite the mythos and cast, as well as a plotline that's stereotypical enough to match the general feel of familiarity everything in the comic offers while being just original and mysterious enough to be interesting. The first 300 strips are collected in two volumes (with tons of excellent bonus-materials, extended scenes and author-commentaries) following the first two story-arcs; Dungeon' Crawlin Fools and No Cure for the Paladin Blues, which are both highly recommended, but the archives are still right there on the webpage to read for free.

What's not for free is the prequels, because Burlew has written and drawn two prequel-volumes to the Order of the Stick, one detailing the backstory of the main protagonists, and one the backstory of the main antagonists. I will try to keep this review somewhat spoiler-free, but as you should really read at least the first two regular volumes (or 300 strips) of the comic before reading these backstories, I'm going to go ahead and assume that you know who the characters are and similar basics for the rest of this post. There backstories reveal a lot of things that are supposed to be mysteries for a long while in the main story, and I'd advise anyone to read up on the main story before trying these out.

Oh, and his characters are drawn as stick-figures. Impressively detailed ones at that.

On the Origin of the PCs

On the Origin of the PCs is - as the title suggests rather strongly - the story of what the six (well, four, anyway, Vaarsuvius and Belkar, while obviously appearing, remain somewhat mysterious) main characters did leading up to the first regular strip of the comic. What brought them together, what motivates them to go adventuring in their first place, and what are their goals and wishes in life.

Burlew does this by writing their stories seperately, intercutting between them. Roy is the head main character here as he is in the regular comic, and gets by far the most pages and story to work with. Haley and Durkon get decently mapped out backstories as well, though. Elan doesn't get a lot of pages, but the ones he gets tells you all you really need to know about him. (And I'm eternally grateful as I'm not particularily fond of his character anyway) V and Belkar, as mentioned, are kept somewhat mysterious in this volume as well as in the main story. That's okay, though - it basically lets the stories feel more consistent when the focus is on three plotlines instead of five.

While Roy's is the most interesting for the story-purposes of the main comic, in their own right, I think I preferred Durkon's a little bit to his. Haley's, however, was on the most part rather boring and straightforward, though no less funny than the other ones. This is Burlew's big strength - when his plotlines get boring, his jokes are still funny, and when the plotlines get interesting again, the jokes are still funny, which is impressive. There are also shorter intercuts to, for instance, Belkar, for comedic effect when needed.

If you've read the first 300 strips, this prequel doesn't add that much vital information - as he writes in the commentaries, Burlew wishes to make the world and story richer for those who read the prequels, but understanding the main story will never depend on the reader having read any material not freely available online. Thus, this book gives a nice additional fleshing out to the characters, and a charming retelling of how they met, but it hardly contributes any major insights or grand reveals. The one possible exception to this is Durkon's story, which sheds light on something that's been quite mysterious for a long time and I suspect will get more important to the main story as it progresses.

All in all, I'd really recommend this book, but it's probably a little below the par if you compare it to the main story. Not a lot, but somewhat. Still, if you've read most of the main story, as you really should've done before reading this, and you're anything like me, then you'll enjoy it a lot anyway, if nothing else then because you'll learn how this assortment of very different personalities decided to hang together and fight monsters in dungeons in the first place.

Which I think is really worth knowing.


Start of Darkness

Again, the title leaves nothing a mystery - this is the origin of the two main antagonistic characters, Xykon the lich sorcerer and Redcloak the goblin cleric. On many levels, this is a prequel far superior to the other one, at least as far as I'm concerned. The story is mostly linear, the intercutting is rare and you always know what the main plotline is. This helps with the focus, which helps with the comittment of the reader to the story, which helps the story feel well-crafted. (This is also the only reason why I accept this story not having Nale in it without complaining...)

If you are going to read both you should read the other one first, though. On the Origin of the PCs technically takes place after most of the events in this book, but one or two elements in it will be somewhat spoiled if you've read this when you sit down to read it, mainly in relation to Roy's father's backstory. You can very well read Start of Darkness without it - but if you know you'll read both at some point, you should read Origin first.

Now, this story was really good, if you ask me. Especially the story of Redcloak - in my humble opinion the best character Burlew's universe has so far, even beating out Belkar - is quite engaging and well done. Burlew says in the introduction to the book that he decided to make Xykon completely and utterly unlikeable despite it being an origin-story where you could easily get sympathy for him - but he does the exact opposite for Redcloak, letting us see why the character is evil and why he does as he does, something that's been hinted at pretty heavily throughout the main comic but never explained in this much detail. The book, thus, becomes a wonderful story of the horrible, horrible man Xykon and the wonderful story of the tragic goblin Redcloak as their paths meet, entwine, and join. And somehow, it stays funny throughout. If you've read the main comic and liked it, you should love this. I might even go so far as to say that it might be a notch above the regular volumes so far.

While all the Order of the Stick-books are highly recommended, I think that Start of Darkness might just be a tad more high than the others.

Now, if they only didn't cost so bloody much to order all the way from the US...

A very good issue. Very good indeed.


I'd go so far as to say that Mr. Whedon hasn't written a better Slayerverse comic himself since Fray. Yes, that does mean I consider this one better (well, at least equal to) his very enticing frame-story in the Tales of the Vampires-anthology. It might not completely match Vaughan's recent No Future For You-arc nor the first issue of Goddard's upcoming Wolves at the Gate, but it's pretty close. And it is, very clearly, Joss.

The neck-moment is perfectly hilarious and frustrating at the same time. If you've read it, you'll know what I mean.


This issue has it all - quips, emotion, moments big and small, a Big Bad-fight where Buffy's hopelessly outmatched and a vampire-fight where Buffy's hopelessly undermatched, and, maybe most importantly, a couple of very vital insights into Twillight's agendas and attitudes. Xander and Buffy get a lot of moments here - which is nice after the Willow-Buffy-focus of Anywhere But Here. If the next standalone (faaar away in issue 20 though it will be) gives us Buffy meeting up with Giles to have some heartfelt moments, I won't be too surprised. Good way to keep the core relationships going through it all Joss.

This issue is where the season plot truly feels as though it starts rolling. Sure, 8x10 did contribute, but it really only clarified and brought into focus the threads we already had going. This is what starts to move it along - though I suspect it might slow down a tad again in the upcoming Goddard-arc. That's really not important though, as this issue lays the groundwork and the basis, builds up a looming threat and a (probably lasting, for this season anyway) presence that will be felt in the following issues even if it's not mentioned outright.

Can't say enough good stuff about this issue. It wasn't perfect, but it's the closest a self-contained of Season 8 has been so far. Heck, when it came out, if I'd managed to write this tiny review back then instead of now, I could even probably have said strongest single issue at that point in time. Buffy's Season 8 is showing a definite build-up of quality, which I hope can be taken to mean that the Master's finding his footing with these characters in the new medium. I still prefer After the Fallin the inevitable comparison, but if Season 8 keeps on going like this, it won't be by much for much longer.

Go and read, people, if you haven't already, and if you have, well, read it again.

I commented on someone else's review on this graphic novel by Brett Matthews and Joss Whedon bridging the Firefly-series and the Serenity-movie, and realized it read a lot like a review of my own, so I'm hereby copying and pasting:

The odd thing here is that I actually am as much of a Firefly-fan as I am an Angel/Buffy-fan (well, okay, not quite, but that's 'cause there's so many more episodes to tie bonds to the characters on the two other shows and not about relative quality - because if you compare Firefly's thirteen episodes to the first thirteen episodes of "Angel" or "Buffy", it beats them to a bloody pulp and leave them sobbing. To find thirteen _consquetive_ episodes that can plausibly compete with it, you need to go way into Buffy and Angel's third seasons, possibly even all the way to the fifth ones), and I still don't feel as engaged by this book as I do by the canon Angel and Buffy-stuff in comic book form.

It's decent. It's funny. It's nice. It's alright. It's absolutely everything you'd like to give a thumbs-up - and that's ALL it is. It's not hilarious, it's not engaging, it's not particularily exciting, it's not shocking, it's not sad. Which I find odd, considering it has Book leaving and everything, but hey.

It also has [SPOILERS AHEAD] Dobson. Whom I absolutely fraking completely loved in the pilot. Getting the reappearance of that character without the brilliant actor's portrayal seems more like a "hee, this could have been but now never will!"-joke at my expense than anything else - especially when he's then eradicated for a cheap gag.

But I'm still looking forward to "Better Days". Because despite it all, it was good. It couldn't be anything else, I guess. 'Cause it's Firefly.

I know this is likely to be too narrow a topic to capture the interest of any of my, what, five regular readers, but I feel like commenting upon this book despite only being halfway through it, and seeing as this is my weblog, that is exactly what I am going to do.


It ended up on my curriculum this spring purely by accidence - twofold such, and both thanks to my professor who first convinced (okay, subtly ordered) me to spend my open course on a self-structured further specialization in Roman religion instead of a general Classical history and culture-course, and then when I mentioned feeling lacking in knowledge of Roman religion after the Republic said "maybe something on the Emperor cult, then" and pulled this book out of his shelves. He hadn't even read it himself yet.


It is, in my opinion, quite excellent. I might be seduced by Gradel's very straightforward tone and fooled in my obviously still somewhat layman-like knowledge of both the era and the previous academic works on it, but I honestly think he makes quite the intereting, logical and convincing argument in it. His main thesis seems to be that divine status in Ancient Rome was just that - status - more than it was something essential to the nature of the being it's projected onto. That the notion of a God as something utterly and fundamentally different to a human is a Judeo-Christian one which should not and did not apply to the pre-Christian Romans. In other words, he wishes to look on the notion of divinity in the Roman empire as a relative status and not a set, essential one. And based on this, he basically goes on to very convincingly and orderly (though at times a little haughtily, it should be said, but of course that's just additional fun...) counter just about every generally accepted theory I've ever heard of on the subject of Emperor-worship in the Roman Empire. It raises and answers fundamental and old questions such as: Was Julius Caesar deified before or after his death? Was Augustus ever worshipped in the Empire while alive? If so, as his Genius or straighout as a god in his own right? What about the later emperors? What is the difference between Divus and Deus? And so on and so forth.

Of course, even with my limited insight I see that one might debate whether or not such a complete refusal of an ontological aspect of godhood in Ancient Rome is likely - and probably it isn't. I still find the argument of the godhood as a relative condition to be quite illuminating and fitting on what I know of the ancient Romans. However, I also find this suggestion to be immensely helpful and intriguing maybe exactly due to its stark, opinionated stanze, and while a road somewhere in the middle might as so often otherwise be the correct course, having this to me completely new way of looking at Roman godhood staked clearly out for me is completely and utterly necessary if I'm to be able to do that. There is also a potential problem to spot in this arguments for what is and what isn't "state religion", upon which a lot of his secondary arguments depend. Interestingly, maybe, that when he starts operating with the relative divinity he needs to establish a rigid system of religion to discuss it against. Still, again, though to a less extent, I find his very strong contrasting (this time not between his argument and the common one, but between his definitions of "state", "public" and "private" religion) to be helpful and light-shedding, even when it might be faulty.

I actually find myself looking forward to reading in this book, which, regardless of how interesting the subject matter might be, curriculum never, ever makes me do. And I still have half of it to go. Let us hope it does not lose its charm.

Joss is back in the writer's seat with this stand-alone-issue that picks up on the main season plot after the recent Faith-arc's semi-digression and moves a few threads of it further a long. It does this splendidly. What lacks in this issue, thus, is a plot of its own - on that account it's somewhat weak. But that is the only part of this which was weak.

Buffy and Willow were shown in the Faith-arc to, curiously, have crosses ech other's moral lines, Buffy now moving in the realm of greyness and Willow with a more clear definition of white and black, the total opposite of their roles earlier in the show. This is built on here, and we get to know a little more about the means Buffy has been using to fund her Slayer-army - and why she's been so secretive about it. We also get a little peak into what's probably Willow's six-month-walkabout that kept her from being available during Fred's death on Angel. Oh, and according to my resident native speaker (and the Great and Powerful Internet confirms) Willow's French sucks. More importantly, we get to know way more about what's going on with Kennedy and Willow's relationship, and the Dawn Is Huge-plot is moved along with the help of some general Xander-fun. We still don't know what a thricewise is, though every character in the story itself seems to be very familiar with the term, but I hope we'll learn soon enough.

What's more is that finally, the link between Season 8 and Fray seems to finally be more or less confirmed as the Death of Magic is revealed to be the crux of the season's struggles. A crux that Willow the witch and Buffy the demon-slayer might find themselves firmly planted on different sides of... something that's heavily played on in the issue.

A final point on this issue - the winner of the now-ancient contest to write a letter of how Buffy had touched your life where one would be chosen by Joss to get a cameo in a season 8-issue, and it's this one. The winner was a schizophrenic woman who apparently has used watching Buffy as one of her main links to reality, written in on the behalf of by her husband. The very touching letter can be found in the letter column last in the issue, as well as online for those interested enough to google. She's beautifully written into the story, and I hope that it might do her and her husband some good to see it. From what little I can tell from the husband's comments on Whedonesque, it actually might.


All in all, I'd say this is a very strong issue, though mostly in the sense that it reveals, furthers and gives portents to a lot of interesting stuff while also being very funny in a very recognizable Buffy the Vampire Slayer sort of way. It doesn't actually do that much in and of itself, though, so I'm excited to see what Joss'll do with issue 11 - because he's actually writing TWO stand-alone issues between Vaughan's Faith-arc and the upcoming Tokyo-arc by Drew Goddard.

"What will kill you, then?"

"Not telling."

"Damn!"

The fourth issue of this pure excellence is out.


Still awesome stuff! Let's hope the fifth one will be out as speedily.

I love Hook. Love'm. And his relationship to "Miss West" is pure fun. Alice is really growing cool on me, but I'm still not really liking Wendy. Oh, well. The epilogue is fantastic and promises a very interesting continuation. (I wonder if he might finally touch upon the whole "what about the other three kings and queens?"-issue of Wonderland that always bugs me)

And Nanny Poppins? Whee!

The he-is-a-plant-thing creeped me out. Some of the stories were way too slow and had an overabundancy of time spent on unnecessary side-characters and sideplots compared to the relative quality of the pay-off, but mostly it was good. At times, like with the tiny aliens, it was even Great.

As my quote of the day showed, I liked the trip to Hell. His romance is quite touching and sweet. And, of course, John Constantine's awesome.

I'm not blown away, mostly 'cause of the pace and the lack of plotwise unity between the different story-arcs. But I can see why this was Something Else back in the day. And I'm looking forward to reading more of it.

Spoilers behind the cut. See here for the no-spoiler place of puppy dogs and daffodils and my general impressions.


Okay, so I lied. There are no puppy dogs. (The daffodils ate them all) But it's still pretty spoiler free.


Those who've read it already, or don't mind spoilers for some odd reason, or who just find themselves to be incapable of not clicking links saying "Read more" can click the link that comes up saying:

Read more...

I've done a lot of things I'm not especially proud of over the years, but somebody's got to be the world's Daddy.

- General Fury

Re-read this today, seemed like the thing to do, and wow, I'd forgotten, completely, how awesome that ending was. In point of fact, it was so awesome, Millar should just have skipped the last page. The second-to-last-one would've been even more powerful as the ending.


Nick Fury rules.