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May 23 2012
4 Comments
book review, Entertainment, fantastic points of ignorance, humor, literature, mythology

Fletching the Sandman’s Arrows

“What’s your name?”

“Fletch.”

“What’s your full name?”

“Fletcher.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Irwin.”

“What?”

“Irwin Fletcher. People call me Fletch.”

“Irwin Fletcher, I have a proposition to make to you. I will give you a thousand dollars for just listening to it. If you decide to reject the proposition, you take the thousand dollars, go away, and never tell anyone we talked.”

“Is it criminal?”

“Of course.”

“Fair enough. For a thousand dollars I can listen. What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to murder me.”

Fletch said, “Sure.”

That’s how Gregory McDonald kicked off the pitch-perfect dialog in his novel Fletch back in 1974. Fletch is a jerk, an absolute pain to everyone he meets because he only cares about the story. He’s not a detective, he’s an investigative journalist and he’ll sacrifice anything–two marriages, relationships with employees, even a rich man’s life–for the sake of his column.  Continue reading →

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May 09 2012
6 Comments
book review, fantastic points of ignorance, life, literature

Breakfast of Champions, The Muad’dib & Hospital Visits

Thursday last I ventured with an older gentleman to some local hospitals. We called on the elderly and infirm in hopes to raise their spirits. This guy’s a pro—he’s been doing this for years, visiting sick people in the hospital, praying for any who request it, listening to them ramble about stories of the old country or of one of the many wars, always with a broader smile than I can invoke on my face, the kind of smile that gets both eyes, your nose and your teeth involved. That smile cheers them up more than anything, people who have nobody or few somebodies to come and visit them when they fall or get an infection or go through surgery or when their mind starts to wonder why it keeps wandering. Hold that thought… Continue reading →

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May 02 2012
4 Comments
book review, fantastic points of ignorance, literature, production, Writing

Gunslinger and Good News

The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed.

With that, King opens his seven-part Dark Tower series–an undertaking he originally hoped would create “the largest work of popular fiction in history.” I’m unsure as to what I expected with this one, but I received something else. Perhaps I looked for Tolkien or Lewis or McCaffrey or Herbert or Rothfuss or Martin or something.

I should have known better…

You regulars know my fascination with King’s nonfiction articles, criticism, On Writing and now Danse Macabre. Halfway through Danse Macabre, I realized that I had yet to read any of King’s fiction. Even though I consider screenplays to qualify as “literature” (Maximum Overdrive, 1408, The Shining, Firestarter, The Green Mile, Shawshank, etc) – Shame. On. Me.

The bleak environment of this first world did what he set out to do–it demonstrated the sheer size of the universe. In scope alone, this series already feels epic and the mere concept of gunslingers, of an order of fighters who work their way up to earning guns, fits Americana. We are not a people of samurai, ninjas or knights. We’re a nation of cowboys, indians and pirates. Gunslingers fit our soul. Continue reading →

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Apr 25 2012
2 Comments
literature, book review, Entertainment, movie review, Writing, Cities, New York City, gergia, history, gilded age

Of Gangs and Pickpockets

In my Storyssentials post on Research, I talked about how a storyteller must assign himself homework. Mine involves a decent amount of gilded age reading (and viewing). Some might assume I want to write steampunk. Though this coming series employs some steamy elements, I wouldn’t classify it that way. For one, few use steam. For another, I focus more on that period in American history and the issues that arose for us as a people, issues we still wrestle through today. Some of the things I’ve shared in the past were homework like the Houdini biography. Recently, I finished the film The Gangs of New York and the book A Pickpocket’s Tale: The Underworld of Nineteenth-Century New York.

Gangs brutalized and soiled what few glimmering pictures I had left of Nineteenth-Century New York City. Had I not just finished Tale, I would have thought the violence and prostitution a bit overdone—the thing of Hollywood sensationalism where we glorify violence and devalue sex. Unfortunately, the movie treated Five Points mercy, glimpsing the crest of the iceberg of gilded age government corruption. Boss Tweed, as Gangs hints, ushered in the peak of corruption in New York City, brutalizing the poor with his police forces and gangs. I guess it’s really not that different from today’s brutality, only with shootings and stabbings and lynchings poured over the top like tar.

Timothy Gilfoyle in Tale follows around historic George Appo–the son of an Irishwoman and a Chinaman–as he works his way from Donovan’s Lane onto a juvenile delinquent work-ship called “The Mercury.” From that floating death trap (or “floating Sodom” as the people called it back then), Appo hopped in and out of prisons like Sing-Sing, Clinton, Eastern, an insane asylum and less serious places like Blackwell’s Island—DiCaprio’s prison at the start of Gangs. In reality, Blackwell’s was a joke. Prisoners checked themselves in for better living conditions than what slums like Five Points offered and checked themselves out with nothing but a couple of chums and a rowboat. Continue reading →

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Apr 18 2012
19 Comments
book review, Entertainment, impulsive pastimes, literature, poetry

The Penguin Anthology of 20th Century American Poetry

I used to be a poet. Of sorts. At least I used to think of myself in that way when I was young. Now as an adult I rarely find time for poetry, rarely make time to think high thoughts and enjoy language for its primary purpose: intimacy. We tend to favor language for persuasion and information, but those came long after its first purpose of raw communication. When people say “Did I use that right?” or “Is that even a word?” they’re worried about information or persuasion. Typically in those moments where we worry about the “right” word, communication was already achieved and the usagery of proper-fide grammatics matters little. Ironically poetry, one facet to the language of intimacy (a space shared with coos, sighs, moans and prayer), depends on “the right words in the right order.” At least to Coleridge…

That realization and a tip on poetry reading threw me back into the game. Now I’m reading again, but not to sound smart or to get information or to persuade some girl to date me. Now I read to find those garnets and emeralds in the riverbed of poetic thought that show the way to diamonds—those phrases, those thoughts that express what it means to be human.

I started with my American anthology, moved to my Major British Writers tomes for  Rime of the Ancient Mariner and the version of Faerie Queen edited by none other than Clive Staples Lewis. Eventually, however, I started to realize that other than the New Yorker and the Missouri Review, I’ve yet to read work by living poets who influence the craft. My poetic imagination (until this week) grew no older than 1967–the death of Langston Hughes. That was forty-five years ago. That discovery threw my poetic imagination into a mid-life crisis. Continue reading →

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Apr 11 2012
11 Comments
book review, Entertainment, fantastic points of ignorance, literature

A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin

Martin should have named it A Wreath of Weddings. Yet again by content alone, I can recommend this book to no one. In fact, I hated it. I loathed this book. That’s why I’m giving it five out of five stars. I can’t call it “good” – inherent goodness exists nowhere in the pages. But “well-written” or “well-told” or “brilliantly executed” all fit. Any book that can evoke the kind of emotion this one yanked out of me deserves five stars. I was pissed when I finished.

At the close of the last book, five contended for power and one died, another settled into disfavor all during wars that rampage through the lands. Alliances connect and break. Little Joff sits his tush on the Iron Throne while the Red Lady victimizes Lord Stannis. Robb holds the North and Dany scourges her way west. Not to mention the wildlings move south to take on The Wall with The Others on their tail. Everything sets this book up for a great telling, especially the news of three weddings. Martin delivers by letting all the hope and joy collapse in on itself. Go figure.

Continue reading →

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Apr 10 2012
6 Comments
book review, creativity, Entertainment, impulsive pastimes, literature

The Independent Book Blogger Award

Goodreads believes book bloggers start and energize that conversation we all love: “Have you read anything good lately?” To reward those of us who keep that conversation thriving, Goodreads created the Independent Book Blogger Award. Four bloggers in four categories (Adult Nonfiction, Adult Fiction, Young Adult and the Publishing Industry) will win a FREE pass, airfare and hotel room for BookExpo America in New York City.

There’s no way I’m gonna win this thing, but I’m all about underdogs. I cheered for Kansas this year like I cheered Butler on last year, and I’m not a basketball guy. At all. I’m pretty sure of all the things I do in the world, my basketball skills are way in the negatives. If there was a character sheet for Lance Schaubert and all his skill points were distributed according to what I’m good at and what I’m terrible at, I’d be so colossally terrible at basketball that the moment my character tried to shoot a free throw, he’d crit-fail and accidentally kill himself. Under. Dog.

As I was saying, so many fantastic bloggers exist, I won’t win. However, I entered anyway because, well, underdogs should always enter. When enough underdogs enter things like this, eventually we get some inspiring David-verse-Goliath story worth a retelling or two. This underdog entered in the fiction category because we talk about fiction here more than children’s, nonfic and the publishing industry combined. There’s five sample posts, five glimpses at what we do here. As always, I love you guys. I’ve got the most supportive readership in the world, small as you are. You’re great people.

Voting opens today and lasts a paltry thirteen days. That leaves us little time to shock and awe the world with our dogged under-ness. Three ways you can stand with the underdog:

  1. Vote [for me].
  2. Share [this post].
  3. Revel [and bask in the glory].

Vote for this blog for the Independent Book Blogger Awards, because you’re an underdog kinda person too.

Vote

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Mar 30 2012
9 Comments
book review, censored opinions, creativity, Entertainment, literature, production, Proper Usage, Storyssentials, The Writing Life, Writing

Twenty Three Reads for Writers

My writing journey continually morphs this list. At times it included books like this or this, while at others it held books like this and this. These twenty-three whip me back into shape more consistently than any others. I classified each into one of nine categories – story construction, literary symbolism, poetry, editing, writing & life, fear in writing, philosophy, literary agency or social media.

(I’ve also peppered minimalistic images throughout from great stories).

  1. The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell (story construction) first clued me in to the basic arc within all stories – the voyage and return. The hero journeys out from the norm into the unknown, suffers trials and returns to society with some gift like enlightenment or a magic item that will somehow help society. Campbell can be best described either as a panentheistic transcendentalist or as a neo-western Hindu.
  2. The Seven Basic Plots by Christopher Booker (story construction) takes Continue reading →
Mar 23 2012
11 Comments
book review, censored opinions, Critique the Critics, Entertainment, film, literary interpretation, Writing

Hunger Games Made a Better Movie (but I still liked the book)

The last time I stood outside in fifty-degree rainy weather for four hours to watch a midnight showing, I was in grade school. I never do it for the movie alone, I do it for the immersive experience of communal cinema viewing. [Insert rant on how the old world of cinema is dying and shameless plug for Hugo]. When you’re surrounded by a bunch of crazy people who dressed up to see the movie you’re after, it’s easier to justify spending $9 on a ticket and watch the rain soak through your $1 copy of A Storm of Swords while you pass the time until midnight — you know that all of them will shout, scream, laugh, cry and cheer at all the right parts. With a crowd like that, people could make Troll 2 an enjoyable experience (and often do).

Unfortunately, this movie’s torn between two thieves – pretenders and despisers. Pretenders read the book, gush about it for hours and then act as if the thing could never in a centillion years turn into a better movie. Despisers say things like “Hunger Games was a terrible book” or “I hate it.” Though I can’t do much about hatred, the “terrible book” line is superlative and I reject it. Continue reading →

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Mar 14 2012
2 Comments
book review, fantastic points of ignorance, film, literature, Religion, Woship, Writing

Zombie Church by Tyler Edwards

When I first glanced at the title Zombie Church by my man Tyler, I immediately recalled the part of Resident Evil 4 where all the monk zombies come out of the abbey grumbling in Latin, chasing you around the graveyard. Or was it priest zombies running out of a cathedral? In any case, the imagery sustains the title and meta-metaphor for his book:

Zombies.

Church.

Yeah, that ain’t right.

Most of you know my deal with Christians – or anyone for that matter – riding the coattails of fads. People use fads to make money rather than masterpieces, so I groaned “not another zombie… whatever” louder than many of you groan “not another vampire… whatever.” However, I know Tyler, know his fascination with all things geekdom (including zombies). Tyler erected a giant retractable screen in his dorm room back in college and mounted a projector over the door. If you set out to watch a cheezy or action-packed or larger-than-life movie, you used Tyler’s room.

More importantly, I happened on the environment he and many of his friends ministered in over the last several years. If anyone has holed up in a little building on some side street, using it as a base from which to pull hit-and-runs with the antidote, it’s Tyler. Eugene Peterson talks about pastors like Tyler in Under the Unpredictable Plant. Tyler stays. He refuses to leave unless, at the last-minute, it might kill his family. Then he’ll move camp. But only then.

Continue reading →

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Mar 05 2012
3 Comments
article review, book review, C.S. Lewis, Cities, Entertainment, film, humor, impulsive pastimes, literary interpretation, literature, movie review, New York City, news, poetry, Religion, Storyssentials, The Writing Life, Tolkien, travel, Writing

Small Demons Preview

Thanks to Yewknee for sharing Small Demons with me back in October. I refrained from sharing with all of you Literators back then because, frankly, there was so little to share. Sometimes beta-testing looks like questing with your half-orc across frozen wastelands until the game glitches and dies, sometimes it looks like stress-testing Google Wave.

At other times it looks like this:

…

…

…

So I’ve been waiting and waiting for Small Demons to put enough content up for me to share it with all of you. Today’s the day.

Here goes:

Continue reading →

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Feb 22 2012
2 Comments
book review, Entertainment, fantastic points of ignorance, literature, The Writing Life, Writing

The Thinker’s Thesaurus

We like words here, don’t we?

Chuh-huh… yeah! That’s why today’s fantastic point of ignorance goes out to all of you wordsmiths, literators, storyweavers and spelling bee champions out there. I asked for free stuff this Christmas, things like carols and cider and snow cones and oral stories involving hearts five sizes too small but my Grandma’s a gift giver like most of my family. She bought me a copy of The Thinker’s Thesaurus.

Touché, granny. Touché.

Here’s the thing, I’m a recovering academic. I root out ivory tower talk when it rears it’s out-of-touch head. I also doubt I’ll be publishing a story, a non-fiction feature or even a poem in the New Yorker any time soon. Though I’m an avid reader, they’d scoff at my work if it ever managed (against all odds) to land a manuscript on their desks. Because of these disqualifications, I find little practical use for such a book as The Thinker’s Thesaurus.

Don’t even care.

Continue reading →

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Jan 18 2012
3 Comments
book review, Entertainment, fantastic points of ignorance, literature

The Secret Life of Houdini

As a kid, I ingested Houdini biographies like most kids ingest chocolate. As a kid, Houdini snatched up Robert Houdin biographies like most kids snatched up wallets. I found myself taunting my brother to handcuff, shackle and hog tie me to my own bedposts and lock the door just so I could escape through the bedroom window and go wash dishes until he found me again. Houdini contorted himself as often as the manager at The Welsh Circus allowed him to. I practiced card magic, he practiced card magic. In my youthful ignorance, I delved into spiritualism & communicating with the dead. When I grew up, I wanted to be just like… well… you get the picture.

“But Lance, you’re not Houdini! Get over yourself.”

No crap, Sherlock. (You might that joke in a moment). I recount my childhood superhero to show the deep, intimate connection I have with the whole of Eric Weiss’s life, from Hungarian Eric to Harry Houdini. Every bit of this book taught me about myself while it taught me about him. Beyond the straightjackets, metamorphoses and lock picks sits a melancholy choleric pensive who struggled between arrogance and honest ambition, service and secret service Continue reading →

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Dec 21 2011
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book review, Entertainment, Harvard Classics, literature, poetry, poetry review

Manuscripts, Milton and Melting

Either my wife’s prayer, a cup of Prince of Wales tea (don’t buy any) or the deadline of “before the holidays” forced me to complete the first draft of my second novel shortly after Monday’s letter post.

It felt nothing like the first time.

The first time, finals week loomed in the dorms. I keyed in the last word “come” and leaned back. I had finished.

Wait… I had finished?!  I slammed back hard against my chair, slamming it to the floor (a floor that doubled as the roof above my resident director’s apartment), busted open my door and ran screaming down the dark hall: “I DID IT! I FINISHED MY FIRST NOVEL!”

A visual artist some referred to as Old Man Spiel waddled out in a stride hunched by his rude awakening and yelled in his psuedo-smoker voice, ”QUIE-UT HOURS!”

Nothing like that. This time I felt weight fall. No running. No high fives after Old Man Spiel retreated to his Old Man Cave, only the cold quiet of those rare December rains we receive in Joplin – the same kind that stopped by in May the day after the Tornado. Dave Matthews, of all things, strummed in the background. My cocker spaniel came in and cockered her head at me. “What’s wrong?” she seemed to Continue reading →

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