Guardians of the Galaxy 2: the MCU on Steroids

A More Nerdy than Read-y Movie Review by Michael Isenberg

CONTAINS SPOILERS

Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2 was the most fun movie I’ve seen in a long time. Possibly ever. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its faults. Like plot.

Indeed, big fun and small plot seem to be endemic to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. In my review of last year's Captain America, for example, I wrote, “The challenge for the writers of Civil War is to put Cap and Tony at loggerheads without it being a downer for the audience. They succeed by making it fun.” But...“The plot is overcomplicated….Zemo’s plan is a house of cards.” If these are the hallmarks of the MCU, then Guardians of the Galaxy 2 is the MCU on steroids.

The fun part starts in the opening credits sequence. It’s an epic space battle in which the Guardians we know and love from Vol 1—Quill, Drax, Rocket, and Gamora—must push their combat skills to the limit. Except that it all goes on in the background. The foreground is Baby Groot, dancing. He’s adorable. He’s the Butters of the Guardians of the Galaxy galaxy. Just sort of in his own…galaxy.

But lest you think the fun depends entirely on cuteness, let me say that it's Drax, rather than Baby Groot, who steals the show. For me, Drax was the least interesting member of the team in the first movie. I remember him as kind of a stiff. Maybe my memory is faulty, but it seems to me that since then he’s had a personality makeover. His insults for the other guardians, often at inappropriate times, are hilarious. I loved when he called Rocket a "trash panda." And yet, he manages to serve up some wisdom with his insults. For example:

Drax: There are two types of beings in the universe: those who dance, and those who do not.
Quill: I get it, yes. I am a dancer, Gamora is not.
Drax: You need to find a woman who's pathetic, like you.

By the time the movie reaches the halfway point, I’ve been laughing my ass off for an hour. There’s a nice technology upgrade of the biplane scene in North by Northwest, and I like the newcomer Mantis whose humorous ineptness at social interaction includes telling people, Sheldon Cooper-like, that she’s inept at social interaction. And she’s a lot cuter than Sheldon.

But I’m starting to wonder, where’s the plot? Sure Gamora is having some sibling rivalry with her cyborg sister, and Rocket and Groot have to escape from some pirates. Quill has met his long-lost father, and there are some genuinely touching moments there. But so far there's nothing that resembles a main conflict.

There are hints that it’s coming, however, and that it will ultimately involve dear old dad, who might not be the good guy he seems. Granted, given that his name is Ego, that’s as much as a surprise as the moment in Mozart’s The Magic Flute, when the hero finds out that even though he'd been led to believe that the Queen of the Night was an innocent victim of an evil wizard, it turned out he had it backwards and the Queen of the Night was the real villain. Like the name "Queen of the Night" wasn't a clue. I’m shocked—SHOCKED.

Indeed, the plot to Guardians 2 does get underway in the second hour, and it’s all stolen from Star Trek. There are elements of the Genesis planet from The Search for Spock, but it’s basically a cross between The Wrath of Khan and The Final Frontier. Remember the The Final Frontier? Star Trek V? The worst Star Trek that ever star trekked? Well, that’s the second hour of Guardians 2. All of a sudden the jokes start falling flat and the touching moments no longer touch. It was almost as if the second half was written by a different writer (although apparently there was only one, director James Gunn. The other eight writing credits went to the creators of the characters). And even the Star Trek II elements can’t save it. Imagine what the ending of Wrath of Khan would have been like if the character who sacrificed himself to save his friends wasn’t Spock, but rather someone who we didn’t care about all that much. Say, Fred the Transporter Operator. Kirk’s speech at the funeral (“Of all the souls I have encountered in my travels, his was most…[lip quiver] human.”), just wouldn't have been the same. Instead of poignant and heartwarming, it would have been downright embarrassing. And that spectacular sight of the coffin shooting out the torpedo tube in a blaze of light just wouldn’t have had the same emotional resonance. Meh.

On the plus side, since the dead man in Guardians 2 is someone we don’t care about all that much, at least he’ll probably stay dead. Hollywood has way overdone the character-who-died-saving-everybody-comes-back-to-life cliché.

The visual effects in Guardians 2 are stunning—especially the depiction of Ego’s home planet. I recommend seeing the film in IMAX 3D to fully appreciate the Edenesque landscapes and the amazingly life-like closeups of Rocket. (One nit—if you’re going to have your characters walking in CGI snow, take the trouble to draw in CGI footprints.)

Of course, spectacular CGI isn’t enough to carry a movie. All too often these days, Hollywood attempts to substitute awesome visual effects for good dialog, characterization, and plot, with lackluster results. Dialog, characterization, and plot are the pillars of great storytelling. But at least in Guardians 2, to paraphrase Jack Nicholson in Mars Attacks, they still have two out of three pillars of storytelling working for them, AND THAT AIN’T BAAAAAD!

P.S. Here are my predictions for the first two sins in “Everything Wrong with Guardians of the Galaxy 2” when it comes out:

1. New Marvel logo is even longer and more boring than old Marvel logo.
2. As opposed to Missouri, Jupiter

Michael Isenberg is editor-in-chief of Nerds who Read and author of Full Asylum, a James Bond parody with top-notch dialog, characterization, and plot. Available at Amazon.com.

The Modern Modern Stone Age Family

The Flintstones Volume 1 by Mark Russell. Art by Steve Pugh
Graphic Novel Review by Kerey McKenna

The Flintstones: just by saying the name the theme song of this classic cartoon is now running through your head. You are welcome.

A brief recap in case you have been living...under a rock: Premiering 1960, it took the basic premise of The Honeymooners—the hijinks of two lunkheaded blue collar guys and their wives—and staged it in a pre-history that somehow looks like the suburban prosperity of contemporary America. This Hanna-Barbera Classic went on to become the longest running cartoon on American television, until being unseated by another lunkheaded working class schmo and his family.

Besides all the rock puns and machines powered by animals, a core concept of The Flintstones is the American nuclear family and that way of life having a certain inevitability and permanence. It formed a conceptual bookend with another Hanna-Barbera classic, The Jetsons, which assured us that the American nuclear family (white, male breadwinner, stay-at-home wife, kids, pets, and labor saving devices) had always been and would always be.

Even after the Flintstones left the air as a weekly series, they continued on in animated movies, live-action films, a merchandising empire, and from time to time, comic books—comics that sought to completely replicate the style and sensibilities of the original.

But now DC Comics is re-inventing the wheel with a new take on The Flintstones.

The key characters, premise, and gimmicks are all left intact: Fred, Wilma, Pebbles, Barney, Betty, BamBam, and Dino are denizens of a prehistoric town of Bedrock that bears uncanny similarities to modern America. The character designs, while leaning a bit to more naturally proportioned bodies, are instantly recognizable as the characters we knew from the Saturday morning cartoons. There are still plenty of visual gags and puns built around a prehistoric version of our society; Fred can take a call on his shell phone, grab a coffee at the local Starbricks, and then go bowling with an armadillo as a ball. But the humor is, well for lack of a better term, more evolved.

Yes, in an angle that will either make or break this book for the reader, this new Flintstones series takes a sharp turn from domestic farce and slapstick comedy to a sort of dramedy reflecting upon the complexity and absurdity of modern life and institutions. In this first volume of The Flintstones (the first six issues of the run), the conflict doesn’t come from the tensions between a loutish husband and a nagging wife, but rather between people and the society they find themselves in.

Perhaps it is just my philosophy degree talking, but I see a lot of philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau in this new take on the Flintstones. The series, like Rousseau, posits that at some point in the primordial past mankind had the option of living in the absolute freedom of the wild, but has opted to trade that freedom for creature comforts and higher pursuits. The Flintstones comic goes a step further, building upon a running gag of the cartoons, positing that the animals that power the appliances have consciously opted into the system of domestication, trade, and specialization into a specific skill. As the bird working as a can opener says, “It’s a living.” [I was going to post a panel from the comic where a sabretooth tiger glumly chooses domestication over starvation but I couldn’t find it. It’s a missing link.] No, Rousseau wasn’t the only, or even the first, thinker to opine that society is the result of collective action and agreement...but he did so with a certain wistful nostalgia for that lost Eden of the freedom of a simpler life.

Our hero Fred is frustrated that the society in which he finds himself is always driving him to buy solutions for problems that he didn’t even realize he had. Now that he has a house instead of a cave, that house must have a lawn, and because consensus rules that a lawn be trimmed and have grass, not weeds, he has to go out and buy a weed-whacker (i.e. a goat). The societal contract now has so many sub-clauses that much of modern life is now done “because.” That's what's expected, and nobody can give a reason why beyond two steps.

In addition to banality and absurdity, the civilized world brings wonders, but is also built upon struggle, violence, and some would argue atrocities made all the more horrible by their moral hypocrisy. In what is sure to be a more controversial move, the series re-casts “The Order of the Water Buffalo” —a riff on the Freemasons and Elks—into a veterans group. We discover that when they were younger Fred, Barney and their fellow veterans, thinking they were defending their families, were actually used as pawns to seize land and resources from the neighboring peaceful tribe, “The Tree People,” so that Bedrock could expand and modernize.

In the first issue, Fred plays host to a group of Neanderthal men who have come out of the wilderness, Rousseau's “State of Nature”, to suss out if this whole “civilization thing” is worth a shot. After working a day in the rock quarry, listening to war stories from Fred’s veterans group, and being wined and dined at a restaurant, the Neanderthals eventually shrug their shoulders conclude that “Civilization is just trying to get somebody else to do your work and kill for you,” and return to the hard, but honest, struggle of the primordial forest.

The Flintstones, like Rousseau, isn’t actually making the argument that mankind would be better off in the trees, but rather that our society is a conscious construct in the attempt to make a better life and sometimes inequities and absurdities happen and that should be acknowledged.

In another episode, the institution of monogamous marriage is explored. As a bit of social commentary, the premise is laid out that in the Stone Age world of The Flintstones, monogamy between two individuals is a relatively new societal development, in contrast to more traditional arrangements like polyamory and a harem of one man and many wives. The book completely sidesteps any low-hanging fruit of drama here. Fred is not tempted by a bevy of buxom cave beauties, nor is Wilma considering trading up for a smarter and/or stronger physical specimen. And while they recognize some of the logical arguments in favor of a two-parent nuclear family, those societal pressures aren’t the reason Fred and Wilma are together. Their marriage is set in stone because of a genuine belief that they would rather live together then struggle alone. Marriage, like Bedrock, isn’t without its sacrifices and absurdities but it is worth fighting for (just as Fred, Barney, and their army buddies do later when they take up arms against a legitimate hostile invasion). So in the end Fred and Wilma, Betty and Barney, and their friends Adam and Steve decide marriage is worth fighting for. Yes, Adam and Steve. They’re having a gay old time.

So final thoughts on Volume 1 of The Flintstones?

Yes, it does away with a lot of the feel of “classic” Flintstones domestic comedy and slapstick, but the torch for primetime cartoon clod was passed a long time ago.

Yes, it’s a darker and grittier reworking of a classic series. Frankly a lot of the attempts at that editorial mandate get mixed reviews at best. Archie is now a teen drama on the CW, taking its cues on sex and violence from Twin Peaks and Pretty Little Liars. As for comics, my first review here for Nerds who Read was a reworking of Sabrina the Teenage Witch as 60’s occult horror. Scooby Do is now an action series set after the apocalypse.

No. Really.

Ruh, roh.

And DC Comics bungled the darker and edgier versions of their own iconic superheroes, chiefly Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman, so badly that the re-designs are being walked back substantially in the comics and much of geekdom will be surprised if Justice League doesn't fall flat on its face.

So it’s quite understandable that you may shy away from darker and grittier reworkings. Fortunately, in the case of The Flintstones, there are many iterations of the classic version to fall back on. In doing background research for this review, I was actually surprised how many. Critic Bob “Movie Bob” Chipman has a great two part retrospective on just the iterations of the cartoon alone (Part 1 and Part 2). I was also surprised to learn this is actually only the 2nd attempt in recent memory to add a more adult edge to the well worn premise. So for anybody who wants to see the Flintstones in classic form, there are decades of material out there to enjoy. Heck, if you are really craving a straight adaptation you could even seek out the two live adaptations of the series that took great pains to translate the rhythms, aesthetics and sensibilities of the cartoon.

But I happened to get a kick out of this new spin on the series. If you can accept that an outlandishly cartoon world can also try to be adult and maudlin (aka Netflix series BoJack Horseman), you’ll find The Flintstones is definitely one of the better ones. I would say it’s worth a look.

Now one more time, just for good measure…

Kerey McKenna is a contributing reviewer to Nerds who Read and SMOF for the annual Watch City Steampunk Festival, coming to Waltham, Massachusetts on May 13, 2017. Learn more at www.watchcityfestival.com.

Thank Gods it’s Thor’sday

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman
Book Review by Kerey McKenna

Do you wonder where poetry comes from?
Where we get the songs we sing and the tales we tell?
Do you ever ask yourself how it is that some people can dream great wise beautiful dreams and pass those dreams on as poetry to the world to be song and retold as long as the sun rises and sets, as long as the moon will wax and wane?
Have you ever wondered why some people make beautiful songs and poems and tales?
And some of us do not?
It is a long story and it does no credit to anyone.
There is murder in it and trickery.
Lies and foolishness; seduction and pursuit.
Listen; It began not long after the dawn of time…

–Neil Gaiman, Norse Mythology

Hit British writer Neil Gaiman, of novel (prose and graphic), film, and television fame, is an old hand at working with myths and legends from all over the world. His seminal Sandman comic and prose novels Anansi Boys and American Gods (coming to HBO April 30) all imagined gods from every corner of the earth, some famous, some obscure, all trying to make their way in the modern world. His comic series Lucifer and his novel Good Omens (co-written with the late Sir Terry Pratchett) put modern spins on the Judeo-Christian apocrypha.

In honor of the upcoming American Gods TV premiere, I decided to review Gaiman’s take on traditional mythology before his more modernist and revisionist spin of the subject hits the airwaves. In his recent book, Norse Mythology, Gaiman isn’t concerned with updating mythology into new urban fantasy tales. Rather, he steps back from his role as “author” and steps into the role of “storyteller,” putting a bit of his spin on the classic tales of Thor, Loki, Odin, and the other gods and monsters who the peoples of the northern climes would come to know and fear when they strapped on their Viking helmets, boarded their long ships, and took to the seas.

In his introduction, Gaiman acknowledges the ways that the folklore of the Norse people has been distorted and diminished as it came down through the ages. Like many tales from the ancient and medieval world, we only have access to those that were written down and whose texts survived the ravages of time and culture—a small fraction of the great storytelling tradition. Gaiman shares that while Marvel Comics’ “Mighty Thor” enticed him into the local library as a boy to seek out the original Viking myths, he soon discovered that the true myths of the Norsemen resembled, but were markedly distinct from, those of comics which had been shaped by modern creative tastes. This is a timely warning for today’s audience, seeing as “The Mighty Thor” is now a worldwide box office attraction. Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hiddleston, and Anthony Hopkins will represent Thor, Loki, and Odin in the popular consciousness for some time to come. Gaiman warns his audience that the Asgard of old wasn’t the gleaming Science Fiction City dreamed up by Jack Kirby, but rather something a little more relatable to a medieval audience. Odin holds court in a great drinking hall, a very fine drinking hall, but not a shiny glass building that looks like an expo center. Thor isn’t the even-tempered, blond, Aryan ubermensch of popular imagination, but rather a ginger bruiser a bit on the thick-headed side. The “heroes” of the stories are just as likely to achieve their aims by treachery and thievery as epic honorable combat (all the more reason to keep a habitual trickster like Loki around).

The individual tales in Norse Mythology are mostly episodic but arranged in an arc covering the origins of certain characters, natural phenomena, artifacts, and monsters, all building up to Ragnarok, the Norse Armageddon in which the enemies of the gods will overwhelm them in battle, destroy the world, and leave a new order in its place. The stories swing back and forth from the melancholy to the humorous—sometimes within the same yarn.

Fittingly enough for sagas that once were told and retold in the humble hovels and great halls of the northlands, Gaiman has released an audiobook of his latest work with himself as narrator. His lively dramatic reading, very reminiscent of the late, great Douglas Adams' audio performances of his own Hitchhiker's Guide series, makes this work the masterpiece that it is. And I think this is my first “I read this—with my ears” review where I would not recommend the prose by itself without the audiobook. That’s not a knock against Gaiman as a master of the written word. God knows (or Odin, Freya, or Thor knows—take your pick), he is a great writer and I sense that some of the more poetical passages and turns of phrase originate with him and not the original texts. But this is a work that is meant to be spoken aloud, much like Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. The episodic nature that rations the grand saga of the gods into chunks that can be understood across multiple storytelling sessions, and the expository language that reminds the audience who is who (and often who is disguised/shapeshifted into what), both speak to the traditions of oral storytelling. My favorite tale, and the one where Gaiman really shows his chops as a one-man performer is “Freya’s Strange Wedding Night,” a humorous episode falling just short of half an hour and utilizing such comedy mainstays as the Gilligan Cut and men poorly disguised as women. I was struck that our TV sitcom isn’t as new as we imagine it.

So if you want to honor that tradition of oral storytelling, I would highly recommend that you get an audio copy of Norse Mythology and give it a listen, even if you only hear one or two episodes in a sitting. Before we watch Odin as a con man in American Gods or Thor duking it out with the Hulk later this year in Ragnarok, it would be worth your time to dig into the origins of these iconic myths. It’s a far more accessible adaptation to English ears than an opera by Wagner.*

Kerey McKenna is a contributing reviewer to Nerds who Read and SMOF for the annual Watch City Steampunk Festival, coming to Waltham, Massachusetts on May 13, 2017. Learn more at www.watchcityfestival.com.

*—Editor’s note: the opinions expressed about Wagner’s operas are those of the author and do not represent the views of Nerds who Read or its antediluvian editor.

Superstitious, Cowardly Lot

Batman: Haunted Knight Written by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale. Art by Tim Sale.
Graphic Novel Review by Kerey McKenna

Batman and Halloween just make sense together. Certainly Bruce Wayne wasn’t the first, or the last, ultra-rich playboy to fight crime by donning a mask and costume. However his costume isn’t just a mask to conceal his identity or armor to protect his body. His chosen totem, that of the bat, is linked in our culture to the night, the occult, and Halloween. It is part of Batman’s creed that he considers the criminals of Gotham “a superstitious, cowardly lot.” In his more gritty adaptations we see how Batman deploys the imagery of the supernatural, his Dracula-like cape and his pointed ears, which present an almost demonic profile to strike fear into the hearts of hapless henchmen.

Even his most iconic villains look more like people headed to a costume party then on the way to commit a crime: clowns, a dapper penguin in a tuxedo, a sexy cat-woman, and a man bisected between good and evil. And like Halloween itself, this iconography can be tweaked to move along the spectrum toward children or in the other direction toward a mature audience. On one end of the spectrum we have Adam West’s Batman attempting to thwart some ridiculous caper by comedians, on the other end, Christian Bale trying to stop deadly terrorist attacks by a method actor.

So let’s continue our Nerds who Read Halloween series with the graphic novel, Batman: Haunted Knight. I wanted to hire long-time Joker voice actor Mark Hamill to introduce this review in his Joker voice, à la the Crypt Keeper, but my cheap editor won’t pay his fee, so you’ll have to use your imagination:

“Okay, listen up kiddos, the following material requires parental guidance. On the other hand do you know who didn’t have parental guidance? Little Bruce Wayne and look how well-adjusted he turned out. HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Haunted Knight is a collection of three separate standalone stories: “Fears”, “Madness”, and “Ghosts”. Each of these was a Halloween special when authors Loeb and Sale were the creative team on the Legends of the Dark Knight monthly comic. Together the three stories form a sort of concept album, same creative team, same overall tone, but each part distinct.

In the first part, “Fears,” our hero is challenged on two fronts: Batman seeks to bring in the villain Scarecrow and his fear-inducing chemicals, and a beguiling redhead has set her sights on Bruce Wayne at a costume ball. And for those who think they’ve got it figured out just from the premise, this redheaded vixen is not famous man-eating plant-lady Poison Ivy, but rather a more mundane threat to Batman’s crusade: he might find a reason to settle down.

In the second installment, “Madness,” childhood fantasy is warped into adult obsession when the criminal Mad Hatter kidnaps Commissioner Gordon’s young daughter when she is out trick-or-treating, dressed as Alice from Alice in Wonderland.

The creative team takes some inspiration from Batman director Tim Burton In the final tale, “Ghosts.” They bring Halloween and Christmas together and see what happens. One Halloween night, Bruce Wayne is placed in the role of Ebenezer Scrooge as he is tormented by apparitions guiding him through his past, present, and future. Our hero is asked what kind of legacy he wants to leave as Batman and as Bruce Wayne.

Unlike some writer/artist teams, where the artist slavishly attempts to illustrate the purple pulpy prose sent down from the writing department, Loeb and Sale work as a dynamic duo. The text is either sharp dialogue or internal monologue that doesn’t obscure the fine art and panel arrangement. With contributions from colorist Gregory Wright, they weave quite the immersive tale. Loeb and Sale have worked together with Batman before and in their hands certain parts of the Batman iconography are more form than function. Batman has an impossibly long cape that unfurls into bat wings when airborne, yet pools and billows around his ankles like a personal fog bank when he stands still. His rogues gallery, Joker, Scarecrow, and Mad Hatter, are more caricature grotesques then people; the Joker is all toothy grin, the Scarecrow a gangly assortment of rags, and the Hatter a dumpy little man who looks like he walked right out of the Lewis Carroll storybooks. In Loeb and Sale’s excellent crime saga Batman: The Long Halloween and its sequels Dark Justice and Catwoman:When in Rome, the highly stylized character designs of the supervillains stand in stark, probably deliberate contrast to the more believable and grounded character designs of Gotham’s traditional mafia families. But here, that contrast isn’t called for. It’s just Batman and his foes tearing it up, on the spookiest night of the year no less, so bending the laws of reality makes more sense for the Halloween atmosphere. In two stories, “Fear” and “Ghosts,” there are sequences where actual dream logic and imagery is on wonderful display. In “Fear,” a dose of Scarecrow’s fear gas subjects Batman to all kinds of illusionary horrors. As “Ghosts” is directly inspired by A Christmas Carol, Bruce Wayne is whisked magically from his bedchamber to all the different locales and times. At one point, as Bruce walks through the mansion to meet the Ghost of Halloween Present, his pajamas and dressing gown shift and morph until he is wearing his Batman cape and cowl.

As I said, Batman and Halloween make a lot of sense together thematically and this is the creative team to pull off a whole grab bag of tricks and treats that pair this specific character and this specific holiday. I would highly recommend checking out Haunted Knight if given the opportunity. It isn’t heavy on continuity, so even if you're familiar with Batman mainly through TV and film, and the comic books are uncharted territory to you, you'll find it rewarding.

Kerey McKenna is a contributing reviewer to Nerds who Read and SMOF for the annual Watch City Steampunk Festival in Waltham, Massachusetts. Learn more at www.watchcityfestival.com.

Fahrenheit 10-31

The Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury. Audiobook narrated by Bronson Pinchot.
Book Review by Kerey McKenna

October is Halloween, so I thought I’d kick off the month here at Nerds Who Read with the Ray Bradbury classic The Halloween Tree. It isn’t just a story of the occult, and thereby Halloween-themed. It’s a ghost story of Halloween: an exhumation of the ancient traditions, civilizations, and very primal fears that gave rise to the Dance Macabre and harvest festival that lie just below the surface of Halloween the American Holiday of door-to-door candy collection. Our story begins in small town America. The small town America that is no place in particular and yet so very specific:

It was a small town by a small river and a small lake in a small northern part of a Midwest state. There wasn't so much wilderness around you couldn't see the town. But on the other hand there wasn't so much town you couldn't see and feel and touch and smell the wilderness. The town was full of trees. And dry grass and dead flowers now that autumn was here. And full of fences to walk on and sidewalks to skate on and a large ravine to tumble in and yell across.

In this idealized American town lives of course the most idealized American boy since Huckleberry Finn took his famous raft ride, Joe Pipkin. Pipkin leads a cohort of eight rambunctious boys who are always up for whatever game, adventure, or practical joke a group of twelve-year olds will swear was a good idea at the time.

But this Halloween, the band of brothers is without their fearless leader: Pipkin has fallen seriously ill. Or so they thought: the Trick-or-Treating boys could swear they saw him run into the old, dilapidated, and therefore, surely haunted house with the gnarled, twisted tree in the backyard. A tree from which hang jack-o’-lanterns of all shapes and sizes. Something they have never seen before but can name instantly because it is so self-evidentially…a Halloween Tree.

There they meet the mysterious Mr. Carapace Clavicle Moundshroud who reveals that if they do not learn the origins of Halloween and find their friend Pipkin’s wandering soul, they will lose him forever.

The gang (the boys are named but rather interchangeable save for their costumes: Ghost, Witch, Gargoyle, Devil, Ape-Man, Mummy, Skeleton, and Grim Reaper) are whisked away on a magical journey by Moundshroud, chasing the spirit of Pipkin through the ages, learning about the ceremonies, fears, history, and religions that formed the iconography of Halloween as we know it today in America. But at the end of what could possibly be the most engrossing presentation on the cultural anthropology of a holiday, the boys will have to make a bold sacrifice to retrieve their friend.

The common wisdom of drama is that both magic and horror lose their power if the audience sees what’s really going on. So does explaining the origins of the ghosts and goblins of our autumn holiday rob them of their danger and mystique? Not really, since Moundshroud’s thesis statement is that humanity’s contemplation of its own mortality is the root of all these traditions. Behind all the fearsome monsters isn’t a harmless old huckster pulling the strings like the Wizard of Oz, but rather Death itself. That this quest for knowledge is also an attempt to rescue a beloved friend from Death’s clutches raises the stakes and makes the boys acknowledge their own mortality, in a way they never had before, and as an important step into adulthood.

As I mentioned in my review of Lovecraft Country, I find there is something special about having a ghost story read to me. I therefore chose to “read” The Halloween Tree with my ears, via the audiobook narrated by Bronson Pinchot (yes, the one from Perfect Strangers). Pinchot does an excellent job capturing all at once the ominous Moundshroud, the Norman Rockwell naivete of the boys, and the sometimes lyrical, often purple prose of the narrator.

I would highly recommend seeking out this story during October to get you into the Halloween spirit. In addition to paper, Kindle, and audio versions, there is an animated adaptation from the 90’s that is still generally available commercially and sometimes still gets air time. It features Leonard Nimoy as Moundshroud and Ray Bradbury himself as the narrator. But regardless of which incarnation you choose, this story is for anyone with little boys and ghouls who find it a treat to learn something from scary Halloween tricks.

Kerey McKenna is a contributing reviewer to Nerds Who Read and SMOF for the annual Watch City Steampunk Festival in Waltham, Massachusetts. Learn more at www.watchcityfestival.com.

Conan the Librarian?

Geek Fitness Inspiration: Literature Edition
By David Mandeix

Today I’d like to discuss the seemingly incongruous idea of nerds and fitness.

Specifically, I’d like to focus on the strange dichotomy that exists wherein nerds are not great physical specimens, but almost every character in their preferred obsession is.

Somewhere back in prehistoric times, around the origins of the term nerd (a brand that I bear proudly, by the way, and have since my youth) came the stereotype of being physically unfit. A nerd was either overweight—due to lack of physical exertion—or underweight—due to lack of physical exertion. In my own case, I landed on the heavy end of the spectrum.

And why was this? Largely because the typical physical activities associated with lean muscle and general good health hold no interest to the common nerd; at least I knew this to be the case for me. Also, those things were difficult, not very exciting, I wasn’t good at them, and I was lazy. This compounded my difficulties in socializing in general, as I shared no interest or aptitude in activities that generally made one popular (see: sports). And could you blame me? #Sorrynotsorry: I thought that lords, swords, and dragons were more exciting than watching a person hit, throw, or run with a sports-ball, and if HBO’s viewership was anything to go by, the number of people who agreed with me was on the rise.

It dawned on me one day that it was profoundly strange to admire my heroes and follow their fantastical adventures without actually having adventures of my own. If these things were so exciting to me, why wasn’t I out there doing them? Thus began a long and arduous journey that blossomed into a love of fitness and physical challenges. I submit myself and my own experiences as the case study. This is partially because I know my own story best, partially because I hope you will find it interesting, but mostly because I am in the process of inflicting my fitness mania on my long-suffering roommate Kerey (known to Nerds who Read readers as the resident expert on all things steampunk).

One day, after dragging him through a particularly tough workout, Kerey put the question to me: “What books or films inspired you to get fit?” It was a valid question; after all, it’s hard to maintain enthusiasm for hard work when you’re not inspired! While there are many books and movies that have gotten me to this point, I’d like to submit to you my top five nerd-fitness motivators:

5. Altered Carbon (Richard Morgan, 2002). A neo-noir cyberpunk novel and a hell of a great read, this book’s hero (anti-hero?) drove home the need for mental toughness, personal grit, and borderline psychotic motivation during his adventures. This is the sort of thing that made me want to go back to the gym the next day, even though my body was in agony. This book will make you want to run that extra mile and do that extra rep. (Disclaimer: It will also make you want whisky and cigarettes, but you’ve got to take the good with the bad).

4. Martin the Warrior (Brian Jacques, 1993). This was the first book I remember staying up all night to read. I couldn’t put it down. I think I was in sixth grade at the time. Gripping story and indomitable heroes, in spite of all the suffering that was heaped upon them. This book probably first instilled in me the admiration of heroes that spit in death’s eye when their backs were to the wall. Also, bonus points because all of the characters are woodland creatures, and when a mouse can inspire you to be badass, that says something.

3. Gates of Fire (Steven Pressfield, 1998) is a 1998 historical novel that recounts the Battle of Thermopylae through the eyes of an auxiliary, but also chronicles the training of the Spartan warriors and their noble battle and sacrifice. In addition to coming into my possession around the same time 300 came out, it paints a vivid picture of the ruthless Spartan training regime; it’s the kind of story that makes you want to heft a spear and shield and engage in a raucous clash of arms. After reading this book, my training relied heavily on a weight vest (Forty pounds was the closest approximation I could get to a hoplite’s armor).

2. Spartacus (Starz, 2010). A spectacular premium cable series in terms of both story line, cinematography, and—let's face it—some extremely good muscle porn. It chronicles the story of the eponymous gladiator, and should have enough violence, intrigue, and historical sentence structure for any nerd. Bonus: it features excellent performances by John Hannah and Lucy Lawless. Lucy, by the way, was 42 at the time of the filming and looks absolutely stunning. The actor playing the main character was 39 and incredibly ripped. Not to mention the (now) 46 year old actor playing Crixus. Just goes to show the lasting benefits of fitness... I challenge anyone to watch this TV show and not want to work out.

1. Conan the Barbarian (books and films). The granddaddy of them all. From Robert E. Howard, to L. Sprague de Camp, to Robert Jordan (yes, in his early days!), I loved loved LOVED the Conan series. Introduced to the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie at a formative moment of my youth, but forced to acknowledge that I did not possess the “strength of a great ape,” the “lithe movements of a panther,” or even “well-oiled muscles that moved like snakes under the torchlight,” I determined to acquire these things. Though at the time, my thighs were neither mighty nor steely, Conan was really what made me start putting the hours in at the gym. And is it any surprise? Eighty per cent of Conan’s problems are solved through judicious application of his barbarian physique. Sign me up for Body by Cimmeria.

There are countless other books and movies that inspired or added fuel to my fitness journey (possibly to be covered in another article), but these five make up the core of my motivation to set down the book and pick up the weight. Don’t get me wrong—I haven’t given up books. I still read nightly and use my nerdy obsessions to help drive my fitness goals. If anything, imagining that I’m scaling a Cimmerian cliff or running down a Persian scout makes the exercises a little bit easier to stomach. It is my sincere hope that they can somehow inspire other folks as well!

Photocredit: imghumour.com

A Justice League of Their Own

DC Comics: Bombshells, Volumes 1 & 2
Written by Marguerite Bennett with art by Laura Braga, Mirka Andolfo, and other contributors
Graphic Novel Review by Kerey McKenna

Comic books built around selling toys are nothing new, but the genesis of DC Comics’ new series Bombshells was a bit convoluted. In 2013, the company issued a run of collectible statuettes re-imagining iconic DC Heroines like Wonder Woman and Supergirl with character designs inspired by classic pin-ups and Diesel-Punk (the 1930-50’s art deco cousin of Steampunk). These character re-designs were then repurposed as “variant covers” for DC’s run of regular comics for one month (variants being covers that encourage collectors to buy multiple copies of the same comic for the special covers). Now, with Bombshells, DC is building a story around these character re-designs—the women of DC Comics fight in an alternate World War II against the Axis of Evil: Nazi Germany….AND ZOMBIES!

So can a graphic novel series set in the 1940's, seemingly designed to push collectibles and retro cheesecake, provide a good narrative and satisfy the political sensitivities of the 2010's? And what is a 1940’s take on Wonder Woman anyway, given that the character premiered in 1941?

While Wonder Woman’s origin story is almost completely unaltered (the princess of a mystical island of warrior women follows WW2 aviator Steve Trevor back to the outside world to fight the evil Nazis), her iconic outfit is merged with that of another heroine of the 1940’s war effort…Rosie the Riveter. Bombshells (helmed by a mostly female creative team) moves the heroines of the DC Universe into center stage by setting their story in a version of World War II without DC’s male superheroes in the mix. Bombshells works best when it grounds its heroines in the real world contributions of women, whether in theaters of war or on the home front. Batwoman and Batgirl are vigilantes who are also members of the women’s baseball league (immortalized in the film A League of Their Own) that moved into the Major League Baseball diamonds when the men went off to fight. Supergirl and Stargirl are members of the famous Soviet all-women’s volunteer aerial bomber squadron, the Night Witches. When she’s not sinking Nazi submarines with the aid of sea creatures, Mera the Aquawoman entertains sailors in USO-style stage shows.

The first volume is highly episodic with different narrative threads of different heroines becoming involved with the war effort, while Volume 2 draws most of the characters together to repel an undead Blitzkrieg on London. Unlike some other recent “World War II…but with superheroes” series, DC Comics Bombshells doesn’t concern itself much with period details (like the exact date or progress of the war. These details are vague at best and contradictory at worst) or with much of the historical realities of the time and place (intelligence official Amanda Waller, an African American woman, has all the authority she possesses in the modern series Suicide Squad, without any attempt to explain how that would work in segregated America). The creators aren’t worrying about explaining it so don’t think about it too hard yourself.

So how does the series hold up? Well, as far as period pieces go I wouldn’t rate it as high as DC’s Golden Age and New Frontier limited series but Bombshells did exceed my expectations.

The art is vibrant and dynamic and surprisingly very classy despite the “what if our heroines were pin-ups?” premise. I guess this would be the same very fine distinction aficionados of burlesque shows claim separates the experience from “mere strip-clubs.” Most of the costumes don’t have the “painted on” look of modern superhero spandex and the artists mostly avoid the tacky “Snake Spine” or “Escher Girl” poses that contort the female form in painful or impossible ways to present T&A. And I dare say, with the men sidelined or non-existent, the comic may pass the feminist Bechdel Test: “whether a work of fiction features at least two women who talk to each other about something other than a man (Wikipedia).” In this case, the only heroines who are in any way defined by relationships to a man would be Wonder Woman (who considers Steve Trevor under her protection) and Harley Quinn (whose obsession with the Joker is fairly central to her character). For others, it doesn’t matter if the men are, in the words of the 1943 hit song, either too young or too old, because they weren’t very interested in the men in the first place.

If there is one area where the-fast-and-loose-with-history attitude falls short it’s on some of the period set dressing. One of the artists (I’m not sure which, due to the large number of contributors) uses modern designs for cars, tanks, and military uniforms. This was disappointing because they put so much thought into the character designs, but then it seemed like they used the first bit of reference material that came up in Google for "Tank" or “Ambulance.” I wouldn’t consider myself even an armchair military historian but even to me the M1-Abrams tank (those used in the Gulf Wars) trundling around Germany as part of the SS Panzer division somehow distracts me from the amazon warrior ripping it apart with her bare hands. Although I must have developed a fetish for historical accuracy in my old age if it’s distracting me from all these scantily clad women tearing up the battlefield.

While this series wouldn’t go on my “must read” list, I think the right audience really can get something out of it. If my friends sending home pictures from Dragon Con over Labor Day Weekend are any indication, a fair number of female cosplayers have jumped at the chance to give a pin-up glam twist to their favorite heroines. And given the grim nature of DC’s film adaptations I’m always keen to boost anything that shows they can actually have fun with these characters.

Kerey McKenna is a contributing reviewer to Nerds who Read and SMOF for the annual Watch City Steampunk Festival in Waltham, Massachusetts. Learn more at www.watchcityfestival.com.