Brains Brains Brains - ZOMBIE HAIKU

Anyone can write haiku, right? It's so simple that schoolchildren learn it. In fact, it's so simple that even zombies can write it.

ZOMBIE HAIKU by Ryan Mecum tells the story of a zombie plague. It is presented as a journal full of poetry by some guy. At first, he's just a guy writing haiku (a lot of which are parodies of other people's poems, including those of Robert Frost and William Butler Yeats), but he continues to write haiku as he becomes a zombie and starts hunting for brains. However, right at the start, in the margins around the poems, there's some blue handwriting by a human guy who has been bitten by a zombie, but has grabbed the journal. So he sets up the scene (zombie plague, some people hiding out at the airport, all of them dying one way or another), and then he gets out of the way so you can read the story of the zombie plague straight through. The note-making guy comes back in at the end, with rather tragi-comic consequences.

Here, some samples of what you can expect from ZOMBIE HAIKU:

Little old ladies
speed away in their wheelchairs,
frightened meals on wheels.

Wheelchair pile-up!
Five old women on the ground,
helpless as babies.

That's from an episode where our zombie poet is in nursing home. From a bit later, here's this tidbit:

Blood is really warm.
It's like drinking hot chocolate
but with more screaming.

Here's another general observation:

Brains are less squishy
and a tad bit more squeaky
that someone might guess.

And another, which appears inside the book with a "his skull", but is on the cover as follows:

Biting into heads
is much harder than it looks.
The skull is feisty.

A general warning: This book is full of zombie murders and mayhem, including descriptions of zombies decomposing, maggot infestations, and gruesome injuries. Interestingly enough, Ryan Mecum, zombie haiku-writer extraordinaire, worked as a youth pastor at a Presbyterian church in Cincinnati, Ohio. Gotta love a youth pastor who writes about zombies. Coming this summer, Ryan's next opus: VAMPIRE HAIKU.

Graphic Genetics

Did you ever wish that you understood what the heck people were talking about when they mentioned DNA, RNA, genes, and chromosomes? Do you hear things about gene therapy and cloning and wonder how stuff like that really works? Or maybe you’ve just gotten to a section on genetics in your science class in school and the teacher isn’t presenting it in quite the best way for you. If any of this applies to you, or if you’re just curious about the amazing story of human life, and life on earth, check out The Stuff of Life: A Graphic Guide to Genetics and DNA by Mark Schultz, with illustrations by Zander Cannon and Kevin Cannon.

A graphic novel about DNA? How detailed could it get? Let me assure you, this is NOT a dumbed-down version of science—this book will give you all the info you need to pass a test, have an intelligent conversation, and decide if you want to do further reading on any specific topic, and its presented in a way that you’ve probably never seen it before. Framed as a report by an alien who has been to earth researching strategies for combating his own species' pervasive genetic disorders, The Stuff of Life covers everything from the origins of DNA to modern breakthroughs such as gene therapy and evolutionary genetics. While the format may seem a bit cheesy, it serves a great purpose. Just when you feel like you’re being bogged down with too many new words and concepts, there’s a break in the story as the king asks his subordinate to clarify what he just said. This allows for alternative metaphors and a slowing down of the information to allow you to take it all in. Having the information presented as both text and pictures gives you twice as many chances to understand both the building blocks of cells, genes, chromosomes, and DNA, and the more complex concepts of how inheritance works and how we are applying our knowledge of genetics. In addition to the main story, there are one-page detailed explanations of things such as the human team who first described the DNA structure, mutations, and how genetic information has been used (and manipulated) by politicians.

The format of this book makes it a fast read, though you may want to go back and look at things again as all the information sinks in and you start to make connections. There is also a thorough glossary, as well as a suggested further reading list (which includes magazines, books, and web sites) at the end of the book. Hear author Mark Schultz discussing the book in an NPR interview here, or check out an animation on What is a Nucleus here if you want to get more of an idea of what this unique book is all about. The Stuff of Life is a great introduction to the concepts of DNA and genetics for both teens and adults.

The Running Man -- Stephen King writing as Richard Bachman

When I finally got around to reading The Hunger Games a few weeks back, I mentioned that it made me want to re-watch The Running Man and Death Race 2000, re-read Stephen King's The Long Walk, read Battle Royale and get my hands on any other dystopian story that dealt with reality television and our role as audience. A commenter suggested that rather than watch The Running Man, I should read it, as the book was far, far superior to the movie. So I did.

And he was right.

The year is 2025. Ben Richards hasn't been able to find regular work for years. His young daughter comes down with the flu, and it's so bad that she clearly needs a real doctor -- not, as Ben puts it, "a block midwife with dirty hands and whiskey breath".

So he heads across town to the Network Games Building. Contestants on Free-Vee shows like Treadmill to Bucks, Swim the Crocodiles and How Hot Can You Take It rarely survive, but their families get the winnings. And there's always a chance that he'll make it -- he's a powerful man, smart and determined.

But he gets assigned to The Running Man. Which is basically a death warrant. In the six years it's aired, not a single man has survived. He'll get a twelve-hour head start. After that, he'll be fair game. Not just to the Hunters that The Network will send out -- regular citizens will get reward money for providing tips on his whereabouts, and they'll get even more if they kill him. If he survives for 30 days, he'll win one billion dollars. If he doesn't, his family will receive one hundred dollars for every hour he's free -- and one hundred dollars for every pursuer he kills.

This was a one sitting book for me -- I actually tried to go to bed with twenty chapters unread, but after tossing and turning and tossing some more I finally resigned myself to a serious lack of sleep, got up and finished it. I ended up exhausted but content. It's a very fast-paced book -- none of the chapters are more than three pages long, and rather than chapter titles, there's a countdown. By the time I hit ...Minus 020 and COUNTING..., I was so amped up and tense that it's ridiculous that I even attempted to go to bed.

As per usual with Stephen King, I felt this story in my chest and in my gut -- reading him is almost always a very visceral experience for me. And there were a couple of passages that made my stomach flip around in an extremely unpleasant manner. One of them involved intestines. But The Running Man was more than action and gross-outs -- this extremely ugly vision of the future isn't exactly enjoyable, but Ben Richards is. He's angry and smart and unpredictable, all traits I enjoy in a hero. And the world, while bleak, is an interesting one -- obviously there's the futuristic aspect, but there's also a huge class divide, and within the classes, there seems to also be a huge racial and cultural divide as well -- and rather than do any explaining at the beginning, Stephen King just drops you into the thick of it.

In the introduction (when it comes to Stephen King books, the introductions are always worth reading), he discusses all of the books he published under this pseudonym. About The Running Man, he says, "...which may be the best of them because it's nothing but story--it moves with the goofy speed of a silent movie, and anything which is not story is cheerfully thrown over the side." I don't think he's giving himself enough credit.

Lesson learned? Reality television is evil.

(cross-posted at Bookshelves of Doom)

Book Review- Project Sweet Life by Brent Hartinger

Project Sweet Life by Brent Hartinger
"For most kids, fifteen is the year of the optional summer job: Sure, you can get a job if you really want one, but it isn't required or anything. Too bad Dave's dad doesn't agree! Instead of enjoying long days of biking, swimming, and sitting around, Dave and his two best friends are being forced by their fathers into a summer of hard labor.

The friends have something else in mind, though: Not only will they not work over the summer, but they're determined to trick everyone into believing they really do have jobs. So what if the lifeguard doesn't have a tan or the fast-food worker isn't bringing home buckets of free chicken? There's only one problem: Dave's dad wants evidence that his son is actually bringing in money. And that means Dave, Curtis, and Victor will have to get some . . . without breaking the law and without doing any work!"

I loved this book and there's no doubt about that. I read it so quickly- I started it yesterday and finished it just a few hours ago. I've been a fan of Hartinger's previous work and this one didn't let me down. This was a very funny book and it was extremely creative of Hartinger to come up with all the schemes that Dave and his friends try to do to get the money they need without having to get a summer job. The ending was unexpected, but not so much that it seemed like it popped out of nowhere. The clues throughout the novel that hint at the ending are very cleverly placed. It's a wonderful ride from beginning to end, and this is a prime example of why Hartinger is one of my favorite YA authors. Definitely a recommend book, and I'd strongly suggest his previous novels too!

You got your Alternate History in my Sci-Fi

I'm normally not a huge fan of Sci-Fi. I love Ender's Game like most everyone and Feintuch's Hope series has some nice moments (more about that in another post). But as a whole it isn't a genre that speaks to me. I love the idea behind alternate history, but I've not seen it executed very well. Turtledove has some very interesting ideas, but I can't stand his writing, and other authors never seem to do as much with the stories as I would like.

Then I read the Destroyermen trilogy by Taylor Anderson. It begins in 1942 with the USS Walker, an obsolete American destroyer fleeing desperately from the Japanese onslaught in the company of the remainder of the Allied forces in the South Pacific. Harried and overwhelmed by overwhelming Japanese naval and air forces she slips into a passing squall for shelter and emerges in a totally different world. The sea is somehow different and more dangerous, the landforms don't quite match the charts, and there are no radio signals or any evidence of human presence.

As they explore the new world they find themselves in the men of the Walker come across a race of lemur-like seafarers known as The People and hear of the all-consuming Grik, a race of predatory lizards. They will be forced to choose between searching for a way out of their untenable situation or confronting a terrible and implacable enemy. And they will find out they weren't the only vessel from their world who passed through The Squall.

Filled with interesting characters coming to grips with a strange new world the three books of the series, Into the Storm, Crusade, and Maelstrom provide no shortage of fierce creatures, jury rigged solutions, and frantic battles. Anderson creates a savage world creepily similar to our own and populates it with characters you care about and root for. If you like militaristic sci-fi, or WWII action Destroyermen might be the perfect blend for you.

The Tripods

As a youth, I discovered John Christopher’s Tripod trilogy the way I discovered most books, by browsing the fiction section and dismissing everything not adorned on the bottom of the spine with a rocket ship sticker, indicating its inclusion in the Science Fiction genre. (I visited a small town library which didn’t feature a separate Sci-Fi section, or not in the YA stacks anyway.) I had virtually no interest in realistic fiction. A few titles were OK. I enjoyed the realistic novels of Madeleine L’Engle which I found via her better known science fiction and fantasy works. But most realistic YA fiction was either about kids coping with trouble--booze or sex or drugs—or kids’ arguments with adults, usually their divorced parents. I had enough of my own crap to get depressed over, I reasoned, without having to engage in the traumas of a pretend person.

And so I escaped with escapist fiction. True to its characteristic flaws, the fiction that I read was somewhat predictable, and its characters tended to be a little one-dimensional and its themes rather black and white. I could not have cared less. I knew what I liked and that’s what I was going to read. So I judged the Tripod series by its covers, which promised sci-fi adventure. I gobbled up those library copies of The White Mountains, The City of Gold and Lead, and The Pool of Fire, and then I reread them again and again. I doubt I could have voiced just what it was about them that I liked so much. They certainly contained all the elements I looked for in a book: a setting in a world vastly different from my own, a fast-paced adventure plot, fascinating and strange new concepts, and themes of overcoming great adversity while staying true to ones friends. But now rereading them again, thirty years later, I think I understand better what attracted me to them.

The White Mountains, the first in the series, opens with the image of a stolen watch. The watch is a prized possession of Will Parker’s father. The watch doesn’t work, but is an artifact of “the ancients,” people who once knew how to make such things. Will’s world is vaguely medieval, lacking in the technologies driven by the invention of the steam engine and everything that followed. Instead, the lives of Will’s largely agrarian people revolve around a coming of age ceremony called Capping in which a metal net is fused with the flesh of a person’s skull. All this takes place inside a Tripod, a giant machine which strides into town on Capping Day, and draws those old enough to be Capped inside itself. Once Capped, each individual continues with his or her life but becomes completely loyal to the Tripods, stops asking questions about their origin and authority, and ceases to be curious about the world, preventing the discovery of dangerous things like explosives and electricity. For a few, the Capping is unsuccessful, and these people, called Vagrants, are left to wander, mad, about the countryside. Will, thirteen, and rapidly approaching his Capping Day, still has a free mind which begins asking questions. A man disguised as a Vagrant, but wearing only a fake Cap, finds Will, explains to him what the Caps do, and recruits him to escape to a stronghold of free men who are planning to revolt against the Tripods. His journey will take him across a deteriorated Europe, to a completely alien city (The City of Gold and Lead), and turn him from a boy into a dedicated freedom fighter (The Pool of Fire).

The appeal of this transparently veiled metaphor to a young man is plain: all the adults, with their rules and their loyalty to their jobs and their stress over bills are simply tools of the system, brainwashed into accepting a world that only wants to control them. Even today, although most outside observers would identify me as most like the Capped, I strongly identify with the freedom-loving, free-thinking Will Parker and his comrades. (I’m not really Capped; I’m just living undercover.) The story is blatantly one of resistance to the status quo. In contemporary terms, the Tripods represent The Man. And what self-respecting youth doesn’t want to stick it to him?

But what is most intriguing and ultimately most powerful about the series is that John Christopher never leaves the concept of freedom alone, never lets his characters, or his readers take it for granted. Christopher's idea of freedom is distinct from that referenced in country music songs. For Will, the cost of freedom, of free-thinking, of challenging the status quo, is very great; he pays with the loss of his family, his predictable life, several of his friends, his first love, and in many ways his childhood. For Christopher, living freely flies in the face of much of what we desire as humans—the wish to belong, the desire for comfort, the need to self-aggrandize. The struggle for freedom, throughout all of these books is both an external battle against the domination of the Tripods, and an internal one, of Will fighting against his own ignoble tendencies. At one point in the story, Will is offered a life of complete comfort, to be adopted into a family of royalty, as long as he is willing to be Capped. It’s not so simple for him to walk away.

The books are not perfect. The pacing is often uneven and the weirdly formal tone which works so well to help establish the setting sometimes slips into something more casual. Occasionally Christopher’s political messages can get a bit heavy-handed, as when Will discovers the aliens’ collection of beautiful women placed under glass like an insect collection, or when we learn that the original brain-washing of humanity was conducted through television. But for each of these conks over the head, Christopher illuminates other issues—e.g., the weirdness of tourism, and humanity’s own drive to “colonize”—with real subtlety.

Throughout the adventure, Will Parker is a wonderfully flawed hero on which to rest the hopes of mankind. He is often petty and too quick to temper, sometimes childish and even lazy. He is, thus, easy to identify with. A young man will recognize his own flaws in Will (as will a still-seeking adult) even as Will becomes more and more aware of these deficiencies and learns to correct them. At the same time, it is Will’s stubborn, youthful rebelliousness that empowers him. His job, after all, is to help save humanity, as it is all of ours.

See also:
Arthur C. Clarke has written that no trilogy should contain more than four books. This trilogy has a fourth book tacked on to the front, twenty years after the original series. The prequel, When the Tripods Came, details the initial conquest of earth. I have not yet read it.

Sam Riddleburger recently reviewed another of John Christopher’s books, the ecological thriller, The Long Winter.

Cross-posted at http://mrchompchomp.blogspot.com

Frogs go (Doc) Wilde!

Tim Byrd’s rollicking Doc Wilde and the Frogs of Doom is part Jonny Quest, part Doc Savage and all a massive hoot. It’s both a throwback and a reboot, taking its influences and moving them effortlessly to an alternate present where the police in New York still use dirigibles and will help a man simply because they know that if someone like him is breaking the law, it must be important.

Brian and Wren Wilde are the preteen children of Dr. Spartacus “Doc” Wilde: brilliant scientist, brawny crimefighter, world-famous adventurer and obviously the coolest dad ever. When Grandpa Wilde vanishes in the South American jungles, the Wildes find themselves battling evil frog-men (not the kind with scuba suits) to save the universe from ribbeting Lovecraftian doom.

For kids, the story is straightforward and action-packed (to say the least). Brian and Wren, like Jonny Quest and Hadji, are not spoken down to or treated as helpless; these kids are right there backing up dad. Like Kenneth Robeson’s Doc Savage, Doc Wilde comes with a team of unlikely allies who bring their own skills to the mix. And like Batman, the Wildes have an immense cave filled with all kinds of cool gadgetry. But even with these various sources, there’s thankfully no irony here: it’s a balls-out adventure that, while light-hearted, never turns to self-referential mockery.

There are in-jokes, though and for parents (at least for this parent) they're a big part of the fun. At one point Doc Wilde is referred to as “the Man of Brawn,” a clear nod to Doc “Man of Bronze” Savage. The evil frog-lord’s previous attempt to consume our universe was foiled by “a wild-haired barbarian from Sumeria,” a hat-tip to Robert E. Howard. But none of these are done at the story's expense: if you don't get the references, the tale still works just fine.

The only real criticism I have of the book is that it isn’t clear who's the main character. Doc Wilde gets the title, but at first the story seems to be told through his son Brian; then he's out of the action for a fair bit, and emphasis shifts. In a way this mimics the less-than-polished tone of the novel’s pulp inspirations, but as I read I wished Byrd would’ve picked a point-of-view character and stuck with it.

Still, in context that’s a pretty minor quibble. ‘Tween and young teen boys should eat this up; I can't wait to read it to my oldest son right after we finish The Jungle Book. Hopefully Doc Wilde and the Frogs of Doom will be the start of a fun series of more (pardon me for this) Wilde adventures.

Heroes of the Valley by Jonathan Stroud

I love fantasy. Always have, always will--from Tolkien and George R.R. Martin right down to Michael Moorcock's freaky Elric saga and pulp novels like the Drizzt Do'Urden books.

But I know that fantasy can sometimes be a little... predictable. Diana Wynne Jones (the author behind Howl's Moving Castle) even wrote a Hugo-winning book called the Tough Guide to Fantasyland that skewers the genre's many cliches in literally alphabetical detail. (For example: Why so many cloaks? Why so much stew? And must every caravan really be ambushed?)

So it's a special treat when an accomplished fantasy author upends the genre and plays with our expectations. Heroes of the Valley does just that, and in a very meta fashion. British author Jonathan Stroud already showed his skills in the popular Bartimaeus trilogy, and that smart storytelling is put to work here in a satisfyingly contrarian way.

The story revolves around the runty, pugnacious Halli, a 14-year-old antihero who is coming to grips with the fables that he's heard growing up and learning whether or not those cultural myths actually have any basis in reality--so not only are readers constantly left guessing as to what will happen next, Halli never knows quite what to expect either. For example, he grows up believing that his noble house was founded by the mightiest of 12 heroes. But as soon as he's exposed to the wider world, he learns that every kid in *every* house is taught that their house's founding hero was the greatest.

That's the sort of eye-opening lesson we learn again and again in real life (usually starting in our early teens, no coincidence there), and Stroud uses that relativism to craft a fun, often funny, and cleverly unconventional fantasy story, all without skimping on the genre's requisite pacing and scrapes with danger.

A great read, even if you're not typically a fantasy fan. Check out the trailer to hear Stroud talk more about it:

Black and White by Paul Volponi

Reviewed by Steven Wolk

Paul Volponi has burst onto the young adult literature scene like a thrilling thunderstorm. His books take place in urban America, and involve race and culture, crime, and sports. Black and White is a dazzling book that brings all of these elements together in a great story of friendship, responsibility, basketball, and the social and personal lines between race and class.

Marcus and Eddie are seniors in high school, best friends, and the stars of their basketball team. In fact, they are so good at the game that scholarships to top college basketball programs are a lock. Marcus is black and Eddie is white, and heir friendship, it appears, is beyond race and culture, and in school they are known as "Black" and "White."

Nearing graduation, Marcus and Eddie spend money needed for school on new basketball shoes. To replace the cash they decide to pull a few "parking lot stickups." There’s an old gun in a shoebox in Eddie’s attic ready for use. It’s a simple plan; rob a few people leaving stores, replace the school money, end of story. But then the gun goes off. Eddie didn’t mean to shoot the man, who happens to be a neighborhood bus driver. But here is a key arc to the story: The bus driver sees Marcus but doesn’t see Eddie. Marcus gets arrested. Eddie doesn’t. What should they do?

Their lives spinning out of control, their friendship slowly being torn apart, Marcus and Eddie don’t know what to do. Should Eddie turn himself in? Should Marcus "rat out" his best friend? Where is the line between friendship and responsibility? And to make things even more complex, Marcus is secretly dating Eddie’s sister, Rose. Told in alternating chapters from the voices of Black and White (and with a different font for each character), the story unfolds like a beautifully executed play on the basketball court. You know where they’re going but you’re not sure exactly how they will get there.

The first tests for any novel are the story, the characters, and the writing. Black and White has them all in abundance. But it has more. The book is brimming with vital questions about our criminal justice system. When Marcus arrives in prison at Rikers, he says, "It’s black people wall to wall. There are Spanish inmates, too. But everyone else is black... I saw plenty of white faces in court. I guess they were innocent or made bail. The only white faces I saw on Rikers belonged to the corrections officers."

There is a scene in Black and White that speaks a powerful truth about crime, race, and class in the U.S., as well as the moral complexity of family. After Marcus is arrested two detectives visit Eddie’s house. Marcus hasn’t turned his friend in, but it doesn’t take much investigating for the police to figure out Eddie’s involvement. But they don’t have any evidence. They question the family. Ask if they own a .38 caliber. His father is outraged, and yells, "We don’t own a gun!" and says the police should be out chasing "real criminals." But later that night Eddie is in bed and hears some creeks from attic. Eddie goes up there. His dad is sitting, holding the closed shoebox. They stare. His dad says, "I don’t ever want to open this box, Eddie. Do I?" Eddie has nothing to say. His father tells him to get back to bed. In the morning the shoebox is gone. Two boys commit a crime. They may be the guilty ones, but so many more are complicit.

Classic Climate Change Fiction

You realize that all this stuff about “save the earth” and “stop destroying the planet” is a bunch of bunk, right? We can pollute the air all we want and it won’t hurt the planet one bit. It would hurt US, of course. The human tragedy could be nearly beyond imagining. But the planet will be just fine.

I said “nearly beyond imagining,” because it has been imagined. Check out this news story about the Revelation-style WOE that is going to fall on us if we screw up the global climate. Temperatures rise, millions migrate, world war erupts, warns Lord Nicholas Stern, a British environmental bigwig. I wonder what Stern was reading back in 1962. Perhaps it was The Long Winter by John Christopher.

There are only a few authors that scare me. I’m frightened of them because they’ve proven that they can rattle me and leave me disturbed for life. (Neil Gaiman - see “Sandman: 24 Hours.” Mervyn Peake - see the original “Captain Slaughterboard.” And John Christopher -- see “The Long Winter” among others.)

Christopher was thinking of a temperature drop, not a rise. But the effects are the same. This civilization we’ve built will crumble into chaos if out thermostat gets out of whack.

There’s also an interesting racial overtone in “The Long Winter.” Basically, he asks what if all the white people had to flee Europe and the U.S. for the tropics. How would they be treated when they showed up as huddled masses desperate for food and shelter.

Imagine, if the climate changed and made Mexico the land of plenty and America unlivable -- would you want to be treated the way that illegal Mexican immigrants are currently treated in the U.S.?

I told you it wasn’t going to be pleasant. If you've got the nerve for this book expect a raw look at race -- but from a different angle than we're used to. (You may also encounter some ethnic terms which are long out of use.)

This book has a place next to 1984 and Brave New World. Perhaps it should even replace them. It shows that our civilization is not an omnipotent Big Brother, but a house of cards that cannot stand a global shock, such as a relatively minor temperature fluctuation.