Video Found: Whitley Strieber’s “The Christmas Spirits” Trailer
No need to say anything about this. Just watch: You can find Strieber’s book on Amazon, in case you’re interested. I’m sure it’ll be an amusing read. P.S.: I don’t know if the book will be available elsewhere in the future; it didn’t show up in my B&N search, though.
Book Review: Walking with the Comrades by Arundhati Roy
There’s something stirring in India. A specter, if you will, of a dark time arisen and a dark time to come. Whether we call it capitalism, corporatism, or new (neo) Imperialism, the fact remains that those most affected by the shifting dynamics of contemporary industrialization will be the disenfranchised and the disinherited. Arundhati Roy’s (The God of Small Things, etc.) Walking with the Comrades waltzes straight into this new Indian world with passion and focus, chronicling her journey into the forests of India where Maoists and the few remaining indigenous people have dug in their heels. Each new day brings her closer to the heart of the movement that has set India’s government on fire, spawning new counter-revolutionary police forces and new regulations and laws to strip people of their land for corporate profit. In the process, she crafts a disturbing narrative of the new Indian state, one which will seem suspiciously familiar to Americans who know a little about the United States’ history with the Native Americans. Walking with the Comrades is a quick read, though by no means an easy one. Roy spends considerable time setting the stage for her walk with the Maoist “revolutionaries” in the forests of India. She provides cogent analyses of the Indian government’s old and new programs for stifling dissent, the language they use, and the results of their activities. Likewise, she explores the history of communism in India, leading us through suppression, violent acts, revolts, and the mindset of the people on the ground — the very comrades with which she walks. Walking with the Comrades, as such, is part of the grand tradition of travel narratives, but it is also an expansion of Roy’s long and distinguished career as a novelist and cultural critic. And it’s the travel narrative aspect which is most compelling. True, Walking with the Comrades is about the political and economic situation in contemporary India, but it also an attempt to put a face on the great “security threat” of India. It’s a clever tactic, because understanding that there are humans behind the mask of terror forces us to think about who we are fighting against, and why they are resisting. In the case of India, the Maoists are fighting a government that wants communism in all its forms destroyed, and the indigenous people protected by Maoists — even if only for political gain — moved off and adapted for industrial society — at the expense of their traditions, native lands, etc. To realize who the Maoists are is to make blind faith to India’s new cultural projects impossible, if not because we care about the Maoists and their goals — most of us in the U.S. likely do not because we have a tendency to be ruthlessly anti-communist here — then at least because we understand why they are doing what they do. Perhaps it’s the optimist in me thinks that maybe reasonable compromise can be found in this cesspool of violence and hatred if only we can see the humanity in everything. Still, some might be willing to dismiss Roy’s work simply because she often provides polemics and doesn’t seem altogether genuine when she concedes points to the opposition; in the case of Walking with the Comrades, Roy occasionally tries to suggest that the Indian government might have a solid rationale for some of their actions, yet the overwhelming majority of the book rips India to shreds, thereby weakening the conciliatory gesture. But to dismiss the book for this reason would be to discount what is clearly a problem that transcends borders and exposes the divisions and strategies utilized by a government bent not on compromises with indigenous people, but the destruction of their way of life. Even if you shrug Roy off as a wacky liberal, the facts point to a disturbing history which does not paint a pretty image for the Indian state. And even if you look at the other side, it’s hard to ignore the words spoken by the people in charge, the projects set in place, the militarization of the police, and the general sense that things are not as they should be. It’s perhaps for that reason that I come out of Roy’s book feeling unable to challenge the anger and disbelief she channels throughout her book, despite wearing my critical thinking cap during the reading process. Roy doesn’t pull many punches when she attacks India’s government and the corporations attached to it, but I found myself wondering why she bothered pulling the ones she did. If her facts are in order — they are — then what the Indian government is doing doesn’t deserve conciliatory gestures, friendly discussion, or calm reasoning. Rather, it seems to me that to fight an extremist state, one must attack it with an extreme position. Roy certainly heads in that direction, and the result is an enormously educational reading experience. When I finished reading, I wondered where we are supposed to go from here. Maybe Roy will cover that in her next book… Walking with the Comrades is one of the most compelling non-fiction books I have read this year, and certainly one worth remembering for years to come. If you’re interested in contemporary Indian history or global capitalism, this is a book to add to your collection. If you want to learn more about the author, check out her Wiki page. You can also find more information about the book on the publisher’s website. The book should be available pretty much anywhere. Read With: Little Fuzzy by H. Beam Piper (This feature will only be included on reviews of non-fiction books. It’s intended to offer a suggestion or two for SF/F books that might be interesting to read alongside the book being reviewed.)
Guest Post: 1978 by Robert Louis Smith
I don’t remember much about 1978; I was only in fifth grade. Much of what I do remember is spotty, like the fact that our TV set was a bulky piece of oak furniture with a bulbous gray screen in the middle. Back then, there were no remote controls, no cable or satellite television, and we got exactly three channels. We selected among them by turning a big silver dial on the front of the set, just above the shiny, gold fabric speaker covers. My dad always made one of the kids get up to turn the dial when he wanted to look for a different show. I remember other things from that long ago year, too. Like rotary-dial telephones, bell-bottom jeans (they always got caught in my bike chain), disco music, and my fifth grade library period with Mrs. Smith. I really wasn’t much of a student in those years, and, sadly, I made frequent trips to the principal’s office. In 1978, there were few concerns about protecting a child’s privacy. Whenever one’s name was called for a trip to the office, the announcement came over the school’s antiquated intercom system, and to the sadistic delight of virtually every child in the building. Those of us unlucky enough to have drawn the principal’s ire were always called directly by name, for all to bear witness. These were somber affairs (I recognize it now as an effective form of intimidation). I remember these instances as utterly terrifying because, back then, a call to the principal’s office meant only one thing: swats. And I must have gotten more than any kid in the whole school. I was such an unruly kid, in fact, that no one could ever figure out how Mrs. Smith, our withered, osteoporotic library teacher, always kept me so thoroughly leashed. Mrs. Smith had curly, snow-white hair, pointy silver-rimmed spectacles, and shuffled along with a wooden cane. For a grade school librarian of the 1970’s, she was straight out of central casting. She wore a different color polyester pantsuit every day of the week, and she rarely uttered a kind word. The walls of her library (which also doubled as the school cafeteria) were lined with children’s books from ceiling to floor. Our job was to peruse the titles, choose one quickly, then shut up and read for an hour. For many of the children in my class, this was the longest, most miserable period of the day. For me, it was wonderful. The truth is that Mrs. Smith never had to say a word to me. I could’ve sat at that formica-covered table reading all day. Many, many golden nuggets lay hidden among the collection of dusty spines on those public school shelves: Encyclopedia Brown, The Hardy Boys, and Johnny Tremaine are among the titles I remember consuming that year. But these were not destined to stay with me like another I spotted one rainy afternoon. Though I found the title and cover of this new discovery quite strange, it intrigued me. Soon, I found myself mesmerized by a book that I would read over and over throughout the years of my life, and one that I remain fond of more than three decades later. It was called The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis, and it was the best introduction to the modern fantasy genre that a rambunctious, imaginative kid could ever hope for. For weeks, my mind danced with thoughts of fawns, Turkish delight, talking beavers, and creatures turned to stone by an evil white witch. A few years later, following the suggestion of a friend, I picked up a copy of the strange cousin to that Narnia tale, and began a new love affair with Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. These are the books that shaped my impression of what a fantasy story should be. Quite a high watermark. Over the years, I strayed from these tales, experimenting with new authors and genres. I even tried to recapture some of the magic by reading countless other fantasy tales (many of which I now regard as knock-offs). But like any true love, my heart always led back to Narnia and Middle Earth. Somewhere in the middle of all this — perhaps around the age of twelve — I decided the course my life would take. I was going to be a writer. I wrote my first story in junior high, completing most of it during my English class while the other, more disciplined students fastidiously worked on whatever assignment the teacher had given that day. My debut story was about an old woman who captures the boy living next door to her, locks him in a pit, terrifies him, and later reveals that his whole life has been a sham, and that she is his real mother. I’ve no doubt that the story was just awful, but for me, it seemed somehow powerful. I wanted to get really good at the writing thing and give it a shot. In time, perhaps thankfully, cooler heads prevailed. I turned out to be a capable student, after all, and eventually followed a long path that led me to medical school, and then into cardiology. Even so, I never abandoned the notion that someday I would write. When the time for me came, it was with those impactful memories of Narnia and Middle Earth still swirling in my head, and with hopes that I could create something wonderful, but not just another knock-off of those great writers of yore. This is how Antiquitas Lost was born. Please understand that I have no illusions of greatness. For a variety of reasons, the writings of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien will not be — cannot be — duplicated. And I really am no different than thousands of other fantasy writers who have aspired to create something as big as those novels were. I realize this very well. I only hope that, if you have the opportunity to make your way
SandF Episode 6.6 (Favoritism — Our 2011 Besties) is Live!
I’ll let the description on the episode page do the talking: Our last non-interview, non-torture episode of the year is all about our favorite books, movies, TV shows, interviews, etc. for the 2011 year. You can see our lists below, but you’ll want to listen to hear our reasons. Plus: we spend a little time saying thank you to everyone who listened and appeared on the show. Why? Because we love you. Obviously. Show us a little love back by leaving a response to the following questions: What books, movies, and TV shows were your favorites for 2011 (whether published this year or not)? Which interviews, roundtables, and Torture Media episodes did you most enjoy? Head on over and take a listen!