June 2013

World in the Satin Bag

A Justice League Movie? (or, Hopefully This Won’t Be a Missed Opportunity)

Since Man of Steel hit theaters, there’s been a lot of talk about a potential Justice League movie.  We even mentioned this topic in the latest Shoot the WISB episode on the new Superman film.  Much of the discussion is based on rumors, no doubt supported by this oddly blank IMDB page, which suggests that some sort of Justice League film will hit a screen of some description in 2015.  Now, Henry Cavill, who plays Supes in Man of Steel, has suggested that a Justice League adaptation likely won’t happen any time soon. What does that mean?  I don’t know.  In Hollywood time, that could mean 3 minutes or 3 decades, or it could mean a black hole has popped into existence and swallowed DC.  A lot of folks want to see Flash and Wonder Woman in film form before Justice League reaches the big screen.  I, however, think that would be a bad idea. I am awesome.  That is all. First, I don’t know how Hollywood will manage to avoid ruining both the Flash and Wonder Woman without completely revamping the characters, and, thus, retconning most of what has defined the character in the last 50 years.  The problem?  Both characters are prone to ridiculousness in the Hollywood world.  After all, the only serious portrayals of either characters in the last two decades have been in cartoons, which I don’t think necessarily translate well into live action (in part because the things you can do in a cartoon are difficult to do well with real people — see every CG hellhole Hollywood has tried to make, hence my concern).  There is also the very real problem embodied in the universe the current film DC adaptations have presented:  a dark, serious universe.  There isn’t a lot of room for camp in in a world where Nolan’s Batman and Superman exist, and that means any interpretation of the Flash or Wonder Woman has to reject its predecessors quite soundly to make any coherent sense.  That doesn’t mean we need a Nolan-style treatment of either character (let alone of the various other members of the JL — Green Arrow (on TV right now, in fact)*, Aquaman, Hawkman, Green Lantern, and so on and so forth), but it does mean DC and Hollywood have to seriously reconsider how to place these characters within a cinematic universe. That said, it’s important to realize that a lot of DC’s characters have baggage from previous film histories.  Batman and Superman have mostly escaped their own baggage.  Not easily, of course.  Batman made a minor shift in the Tim Burton films, fell into the abyss with Forever and Robin, and then took a huge turn (for the best, I believe) with the Nolan trilogy.  Superman had a similar journey.  My hatred of Returns notwithstanding, the film did at least offer a lead-up to the Nolan-influenced Man of Steel. The same cannot be said for Wonder Woman or the Flash — at least, not within the live action franchises.  Wonder Woman, for example, has never seen a big screen adaptation, though many are still quite fond of the 1970s adaptation starring Lynda Carter (not to mention all the love for the various cartoon versions).  She’s quite likely to return to the small screen soon, which I think would be a great idea; DC (or one of the studios — not sure which) has actively been trying to bring her back to TV for several years (a 2011 pilot flopped at NBC, but the CW has expressed interest in pushing their own adaptation called Amazon).  The same is true for the Flash.  He had a TV movie in 1990 and plenty of appearances in cartoons.  But he has yet to make the jump to the big screen, and probably won’t (though this IMDB page suggests otherwise).  All of these facts are good reasons for both characters to have their own films…eventually.  I, however, think DC would be better off going another route. If DC is hell bent on bringing these characters to the big screen, I think the best direction would be to release Man of Steel 2 (whatever it might be called), followed by the first Justice League movie.  In the interim, Wonder Woman and the Flash should have origin narratives put up on the small screen; after Justice League (assuming success), new film narratives can take the limelight (or they can stick with TV).  Doing so will have a few important impacts: TV adaptations will allow the characters to develop in the sort of depth they deserve. We’ll avoid the uncomfortable mess of 2.5 hour camp-fests (Wonder Woman especially; she’s a cool character, but her origin story will not inspire audiences).  I don’t think film origins of these characters will do them justice, in part because most of us haven’t seen the characters outside of the comic “universes.”  If you’re not a Flash fan already, you don’t know anything about him (and vice versa for Wonder Woman).  And, well, I don’t think characters with super-speed work all that well on the big screen (that’s my personal hangup, though). I think starting with the trifecta of TV series (Green Arrow, Wonder Woman, and the Flash) will also give DC’s franchise a huge boost in the right direction.  If you create three TV shows that cross over one another, each leading towards a Justice League film, you cross-pollinate your audience quite brilliantly.  A good deal of people will watch all three, some will watch one or two, and some will come from entirely different avenues:  following on the heels of Batman and Superman.  Basically, hitting almost every direction at once seems like a perfect method for making a Justice League movie a success. Granted, none of this is likely to happen.  If DC is hell bent on releasing a Justice League movie in 2015, then it doesn’t really matter what I think.  Two years is hardly enough time to get two new TV series off the ground.  My hope is

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Things Happening Now: World War Z, Shoot the WISB, and Women Authors

What’s going on over at the Skiffy and Fanty compound?  Quite a lot, actually! First up, authors Emma Newman and Susan Bigelow joined the S&F crew to talk about science fiction and fantasy by women.  I quite enjoyed the direction we went after listing some of our favorite female authors, especially since we covered things like how reading influences writing and so on. Lastly, the most recent episode of Shoot the WISB has hit the web.  This time, I’m joined by David Annandale and Jen Bosier for a discussion of World War Z.  The episode contains a lot of spoilers, so save it for later if you intend to see the movie. And that’s what’s going on over at the S&F compound.  Go DL the episodes and enjoy!

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Comic Review: Action Lab Confidential (Previews)

Now that I have this magic tablet thing, I’ve been able to take advantage of all the lovely stuff floating around on ComiXology (a comic store/reading app).  And since I’m now a comic book nut, I figure it’s fair to toss some more reviews at you all. The first of my ComiXology reviews is for Action Lab’s preview collection, featuring excerpts from PrinceLess (Whitley, Goodwin, and Kim), Double Jumpers (Dwonch and Blankenship), Jack Hammer (Barrows and Ionic), Jetta:  Tales of Toshigawa (Wade, Wade, and Williams), Fracture (Gabborin, Cicconi, and Dwonch), Space-Time Condominium (Dwonch), Glob World (Freeman, Strutz, and Garcia), Monsters Are Just Like Us (Super Ugly), Exo-1 and the Rocksolid Steelbots (Pryor, Besenyodi, and Logan), Back in the Day (Dwonch and Logan), and Snowed In (Lundeen).  I won’t talk about all of these in much detail for obvious reasons (so many excerpts!).  Generally, I was unimpressed by the lot.  The best of these eleven comics barely rates as “something you’d use as filler.”  Some of them are awful precisely because they play into stereotypes best served “dead.”  Basically, even though I had no expectations when I went in, I came out extremely disappointed. Here’s the breakdown: PrinceLess (2/5) The basic premise for this comic seems to be this:  princess is trapped in tower; male suitors come to “rescue her”; princess insults them and uses the abuse (and a dragon) to send them on their way.  The idea is cute enough.  I like the reversal of the princess-in-the-tower trope, especially when that reversal comes with a large side of feminist anger.  However, I also find it difficult to enjoy what is clearly a patriarchal universe (something readily apparent in one of the full issues), especially when we’re supposed to accept verbal abuse as a legitimate attack on those structures, despite the fact that the “Princess” never leaves the tower in this particular excerpt.  It just didn’t work for me. Double Jumpers (0/5) Sexism and gaming culture. Why do they so often go hand in hand? Why can’t we have respectful portrayals of women and female bodies in the game world? Such are the fundamental problems with David Dwonch and Bill Blankenship’s Double Jumpers. The excerpt opens in a bar — if you’re expecting one of those “an accountant, a black guy, and a sexy redheaded intern walk into a bar” jokes, then you’ll thankfully find yourself disappointed here, though the setup seems to have been deliberate.  From there, everything goes downhill.  Well, actually, it was already at the bottom of the hill when it started; in the first few panels, one of the main characters does the following:  1) complains about someone else’s girlfriend; 2) proclaims that she is a bitch, but that he’d still “hit that” (direct quote); and 3) essentially hints that the redheaded intern’s value is derived from her ability to bring him beer.  Oh, and it doesn’t get better from there.  Shortly after, the same character acts as the butt of one of the oldest gaming jokes since the invention of female gaming characters:  guy wants to play big burly man warrior, but gets stuck playing the sexy warrior chick in skimpy clothes (boob grabbing and complaining ensues). What might have been a humorous, positive portrayal of women within gaming culture turned out to be a long sea of jokes I remember as “funny” in the 90s (that’s the beginning of my involvement, so I cannot speak for gamers who were active in the 70s or 80s). That’s honestly what this comic feels like: a throwback to 12-year-old me, dripping with assumptions about who plays video games, what female bodies mean in this culture, and so on and so forth. In the end, the decent artwork and the fun concept (geeks playing MMORPGs via VR) couldn’t save the terrible characterization and the out-of-date jokes. I’d pass on this one if I were you. Jack Hammer (2/5) Private detective?  Check.  World with some kind of super power?  Check.  Murder?  Check.  That’s basically what you’ve got in Jack Hammer.  Of all the comics in this lot, this is probably the only one I found semi-interesting, though that quickly fell apart when the perspective shifted to the people who committed the crime, and then once again to some sort of past event.  None of this is properly explained, so the excerpt reads like a bunch of semi-random pages from different issues.  In the end, I was more confused than interested. Jetta:  Tales of Toshigawa (2/5) There’s something about two warrior women fighting for reasons that aren’t altogether clear, and in the midst of that battle, the protagonist talks ad naseum about how she feels about fighting this individual.  Why?  I don’t really know.  There’s an obvious history here; the character suggests as much.  But without a full understanding of that context, it’s impossible to really understand what is going on, except that two women are fighting with swords.  Additionally, the characters frequently utter some variation of the word “unga,” which looks as ridiculous as it sounds.  I have no idea what that sound is supposed to represent, as I’ve never heard a human being make that sound in any other context than “I’m being silly.”  But these characters are kicking and trying to stab one another.  Unga?  No idea. Fracture (2/5) A young man with a blown knee suddenly shifts his mind into that of a local super villain.  Hi-jinks ensue.  If one were to restructure this comic to avoid the absurd “jump” from one body to the next, I suspect there would be a lot of potential in the whole idea.  But the excerpt feels like two indirectly-related chunks shoved together.  There is no sense of character development.  Instead, we’re supposed to care about someone we don’t know.  On top of that, I didn’t much care for the artwork, in part because the character drawings and settings looked too two dimensional — I’m probably spoiled, though. It’s sad, really.  I kind of liked this one at first. Space-Time Condominium (1/5) One very long poop joke.  You’ve heard this

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American Literature Syllabus: Suggestions Open!

For those that don’t know, the syllabus I had designed for an American Lit. survey course got rejected.  The reasoning behind that rejection makes sense, and I’ve been told point blank that if I want to teach that same course in the Spring (under a World Literature heading), it’ll happen.  But that means I’ve got to put together an entirely new syllabus. As of this moment, I am thinking about framing this survey course with the loose theme of “American identity.”  I want to have as wide an exploration of this question as possible, both to show the breadth of such concerns within American lit and to avoid having too narrow of a focus (i.e., one segment of identity).  There are a number of novels, short stories, and plays I am considering for the syllabus, including some that I’ve taught before (such as Black No More by George Schuyler).  But I’d like to expand my focus. This is where you come in.  Which novels, short stories, or plays would you suggest for a syllabus loosely concerned with “American identity”?  So long as the work is written by someone from the U.S. after 1900, it qualifies.  Genres are not relevant, though I always include a little science fiction (sometimes fantasy) in my syllabi (I’m currently thinking about teaching One for Sorrow by Christopher Barzak, for example). So have at it! (Note:  I am interested in canonical work as well as work by various ethnic or minority groups, including African Americans, Native Americans, LGBT folks, refugees (and related categories), women, and so on and so forth.  I deliberately write my syllabi to include a range of different groups to show my students that the “canon” is not really a representation of American literature as a whole and that these other literary “groups” are important.  Understand that I can’t fit everything in.  I feel bad about that every time I teach a survey course.  I want to cover every single group imaginable, but I can’t.  16 weeks just isn’t enough time 🙁 ).

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Dear Regal Cinemas: Insane People and How Your Staff Responded

I’d like to share a story with everyone.  Today, I went to see World War Z.  It’s a zombie film, so I’ve been looking forward to it for a while (zombies are the only thing that legitimately scares me anymore, with rare exception).  So I put on some pants, shuffled out the door, and walked the 2 miles to the nearest Regal Cinema (#14 in Gainesville, FL, in case you were wondering).  Don’t feel bad for me about having to walk that far, though.  I got to read comic books on my Nook HD+ on the way, and I purposefully chose to walk (buses don’t run often enough on the weekends anyway). In any case, I’ve been going to this theater since I moved to Gainesville (except when I have to go to the other one to see things Regal #14 doesn’t carry).  It’s a decent enough place.  Nothing special, but I’ve never had any issues with the theater before, except the occasional annoying jabberface.  Unfortunately, jabberfaces are common at all theaters.  I say this so you’ll understand why I was so shocked by what I experienced there. About 30-45 minutes into World War Z, another patron decided to start having a conversation with his female companion (girlfriend, sister, or something).  Occasional comments don’t bother me; I do that myself when I’m with others.  But this fell within the “full blown conversation” territory.  That annoys the hell out of me, and for good reason.  I don’t go to the movies to listen to other people talk; I go, obviously, to see a movie.  And that’s what I expect when I go to a theater.  A movie experience.  An immersive experience.  I want to get lost in the movie.  I want to forget that I’m in a theater so I can enjoy the hell out of what is going on up on that big screen thing.  And when a jabberface ruins that experience, it understandably annoys me.  Jabberfaces suck you right out of that immersive experience.  They inject something from the real world into the fantasy one.  They destroy the movie experience entirely.  I dislike jabberfaces quite a lot, you see.  And so do a lot of other people. So it was with trepidation that I turned and offered my first-line-of-defense:  the “shhh.”  I shushed this individual and his companion not just once, but three times before I and another nearby patron finally got fed up, turned around and told him to please be quiet.  I think my exact words were, “Could you please stop having a conversation?”  I don’t think the other guy was so nice (there may have been a “fuck” in there), but I don’t fault him for such language.  It had to be said. And here’s where it gets insane.  The jabberface decided that instead of kindly shutting up so the rest of us could enjoy the movie, he would instead flex his little muscles and confront us for our behavior.  I honestly can’t remember half of what he said, since most of it was incoherent crotch-grabbing nonsense, but here’s the gist:  “You don’t know me. You shut the fuck up or I’ll come over there and shut your face for you.  And as for you (me), you just sit there and shut your mouth.”  That’s the really watered-down version.  His actual tirade went on for a full minute, in which he primarily flexed his manly muscles at the other annoyed patron.  There were borderline threats made during the tirade, along with a sea of n-words and other swear words. Unfortunately, when these things happen, I shut down.  In all honesty, I think most instances of physical confrontation are moronic, and since I’m not a glutton for pain, I tend to avoid them as much as possible.  In this case, I didn’t see a point in engaging with someone who clearly couldn’t disentangle “greatest offense against my person EVER” from “please don’t have a conversation in a movie theater.”  I shut down and ignored him as best I could, partly out of fear and partly out of a refusal to give in to childish antics.  If he was willing to fight over something as stupid as being asked to shut up during a movie, then there was no point engaging with him any further. Eventually, he realized the other patron wasn’t going to back down, so he sat his little childish toosh down and tried to play the “now where were we” card.  But he’d clearly lost.  There was no saving face when you’re the guy that looks like a petulant child in front of hundreds of other people.  At some point during all this, someone had gone to tell a manager.  Several minutes later, the manager came in and had a talk with the two men.  I don’t know what she said to them, as she apparently had the magic gift for conversation-in-a-theater-that-nobody-else-can-hear.  However, I gathered what she had done:  issued the warnings that would put jabberface in his place.  From that moment on, the theater was quiet (except for the occasional giggle from someone who found amusement in teeth-chattering). When the film ended, there were no further confrontations.  I spoke briefly with some other folks who stayed behind in the theater and came to the conclusion that we all were rather shocked by what had happened.  One of the other patrons (an un-involved one) told me that he had asked his son to move to the other side of the theater to avoid the confrontation entirely.  I don’t blame him.  When someone stands up in a theater puffing and throwing out borderline fighting words, it’s entirely reasonable to take precautions (and certainly so in this day and age).  He was doing what a good father does:  protect his family. Afterwards, I went to talk to the manager.  Honestly, I don’t remember her name, but she was a nice individual who listened to my concerns and answered my questions about appropriate procedure.  How exactly does a

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Genre Books for Non-Genre People: Still Missing the Point, Folks!

The other day, Damien G. Walter posted the following on his Google+ account: Now that Fantasy / SF is taking over the mainstream, which books do you recommend to people who have not read it before? Thus far, two people have responded with posts of their own:  my friend and podcast co-host Paul Weimer and John Stevens.  Each list has a particular perspective for the textual choices, and each is valid in its own way.  But they are also effectively useless lists without a pre-defined “non-genre person.”  Whenever lists like this come out, that perspective is almost always ignored.  Nobody seems willing to address the fact that non-genre readers are not a homogeneous group. Paul’s list, for example, includes the following: Leviathan Wakes by James S.A. Corey The Warrior’s Apprentice by Lois McMaster Bujold The Hammer and the Blade by Paul S. Kemp Storm Front by Jim Butcher Flesh and Fire by Laura Anne Gilman. The only mention of an audience in his post is a throwaway line about people who read novels.  There’s no mention of the things they like to read.  Are they Clive Cussler fans?  Do they prefer the prose of Amy Tan or Ian McEwan?  What about Jonathan Franzen or Ernest Hemingway?  Are they fans of modernist writing, or are they more into the postmodernist crowd?  Or maybe they don’t like any of that.  Maybe they’re romance readers, or they prefer political thrillers, or regular thrillers.  Or they read Dan Brown or James Paterson (they’re both basically genre, I guess).   The point:  his readers could be anyone, and that makes his selections functionally useless.  Unless you suggest these works to someone you can reasonably expect to enjoy them based on what they already enjoy, you’re basically flipping a coin.  You might get that one reader who devours these books the same way Paul clearly has, or you might get that one reader who views these as the reason why genre fiction is worthless. The more problematic issue here stem’s from the list’s clear conscious or subconscious assumed or intended readership.  While the invoked audience for these works is overly broad, the actual works presented here fall within a very particular camp of readers.  These are not what most would call “literary novels.”  They are, in the most loving way I can say it, pure genre.  Gracing the list are a high-octane space opera (Corey), a mostly fun urban fantasy (Butcher), a rip-roaring fantasy adventure novel (not unlike Indiana Jones; Kemp), a military SF novel (Bujold), and a fantasy epic (Gilman).  Understandably, I’m describing these somewhat unfairly.  They are more complicated than the simplistic generic traditions with which they are identified, but the ease with which they can fall into these categories presents a crucial problem:  they are not novels that will appeal to the widest range of people, generally speaking.  I stand by that.  Some of the folks who might start with these novels may find themselves less willing to try again.  Why?  The simple fact that these books aren’t really for “non-genre” people; rather, they are more fairly aimed at those who may not read genre yet, but whose literary sensibilities lean toward the genre camp.  For that group, these novels will suck them in (I hope, that is).  For everyone else?  Flipping a coin. Stevens’ list presents different challenges.  His selections are actually more grounded than Paul’s (this might have something to do with a tweet by Damien G. Walter that I have yet to see).  Rather than providing a nebulous intended audience, Stevens specifically identifies his audience as “those who are new to the genre.” While this doesn’t narrow the focus or define these new or incoming readers in terms of their previous reading interests, it does establish a better foundation.  With that perspective in mind, Stevens suggests the following: Wizard of the Pigeons by Megan Lindholm Midnight Riot by Ben Aaronovitch Paladin of Souls by Lois McMaster Bujold The Wild Shore by Kim Stanley Robinson The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by N.K. Jemisin There are definitely some great authors here (I haven’t read them all).  The problem?  In my experience, Robinson’s Three Californias best fits among the (to use a pointless term) “literary crowd.”  I taught The Gold Coast last year and discovered that it didn’t sit well with students who came in with certain expectations of genre.  That doesn’t mean The Wild Shore or any of the Three Californias novels are bad or unworthy of suggestion; rather, I say this in order to suggest that Three Californias deserves to be suggested under entirely different conditions:  namely, ones in which you have a far more specific understanding of what someone likes.  Compared to the other works on Steven’s list, Robinson’s stands out as the one most likely to appeal to audiences who don’t have experience with generic traditions.  The Lindholm, Aaronovitch, Bujold, and Jemisin are all writers whose work, in my mind, will have greater effect on those who are already reading things that are similar enough to genre.  In that respect, they fit quite well into Steven’s list, as they are works which are geared towards “new readers of genre.”   But, again, it all comes down to what we mean by “new readers.”  What are they currently reading?  Who is a “new reader”?  Does someone who reads Salman Rushdie, Jane Rogers, or Gabriel Garcia Marquez qualify as a “new reader of genre”?  Or are we talking about people who have, for example, started reading genre because they saw Game of Thrones and wanted to read the books?  This distinction is crucial.  Even more crucial, however, are the additional distinctions (distinctions upon distinctions) — there are fantasy readers, SF readers, SF/F readers, urban fantasy readers, readers who hate fantasy, readers who hate science fiction, readers who hate X, Y, or Z (or even Q).  The reader is everything when it comes to suggestions.  Are readers are naturally conservative (i.e., they don’t like to try new things)?  Not necessarily.  What I’m concerned with here is the desire to

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