One dead parent trauma per customer, please.

I always think it adds resonance to a hero's mission to have some defining element of tragedy in his background, don't you?

The Joker, Batman Beyond: The Return of the Joker

To lose one parent, Mr Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.

Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

When I was a kid, living out in the country, we didn't have access to a wide range of TV stations. We had the CBC and CTV, CKVR out of Barrie, and sometimes if the weather was right we'd get a fuzzy view of a North Bay station. Because of this, my childhood was devoid of very much in the way of animated entertainment, and by way of compensation I probably watch more Saturday morning cartoons than someone in their late 40's should, an attribute I apparently share with my older sister Dorothy.

As a result, I recently had the opportunity to witness the debut of a new animated series: Iron Man: Armored Adventures, wherein we meet a teenaged Tony Stark, whose father dies under mysterious circumstances after refusing a request to turn a standard industrial product into a weapon of mass destruction. The young Tony, who was wounded in the accident and now has a power unit implanted in his chest to keep his heart functioning, is apparently going to use his experimental armor to investigate his father's death, fight crime, do good deeds, and so forth, all while going to high school.

Now, I agree with the Joker in that it does add resonance for a hero to have an element of personal tragedy in their backstory. And, of course, Batman, the Joker's nemesis, is the ideal example. His entire life has been sacrificed on the altar of revenge, revenge on the entire criminal world for the death of his parents. This is why Robin is the perfect sidekick - Batman sees in Dick Grayson the young Bruce, once again deprived of his parents by criminals. But Robin adds additional depth: does Batman have the right to force a child into the same mold that has left him emotionally crippled?

However, having one or both parents die at the hands of criminals doesn't have to be the only tragedy that adds resonance to a hero's mission! It's tempting to categorize Superman as having the same issues as Batman, but it's not his status as an orphan that gives the character of Kal-el its depth, it's his difficulty reconciling his life as Clark Kent with his secret identity as Superman. Bruce Banner's tragedy lies in the irony of an intellectual who transforms into a huge green hulk, a creature of impulse and force rather than thought, when he's overcome by emotion. In his early days, Spiderman was constantly trying to combine his responsibility to fight crime with his need to pay the rent for himself and Aunt May, and still get his homework done. In addition to their individual issues, the X-Men offer a collective tragedy, the tragedy of a group that is considered to be not fully human - in fact, there used to be a Marvel comic called The Inhumans, that dealt with a hidden city inhabited by a race of experimental subjects, possessed of a variety of superhuman abilities but marred by genetic damage.

And Iron Man? Well, it depends which version you want to look at. In the recent movie version, Tony Stark suddenly discovers - forcibly - that his professional life as a weapons manufacturer has consequences in the real world. People, innocent people, die because of what he does for a living, and after experiencing this first-hand, he decides that he needs to take a stand against that sort of abuse.

The comic book character originates in a different time, although, interestingly, he was created in opposition to the prevailing philosophic outlook of the period. When Stan Lee of Marvel Comics created Tony Stark in the 60's, he was intended to be the poster boy for capitalism and conservatism, sort of an anti-hippy, and many of his early opponents were his Soviet equivalents. However, over time Stark became the victim of a variety of personal weaknesses, with a long story arc dealing with his alcoholism.

I can understand the desire to re-introduce the character of Tony Stark to Saturday mornings in a more youth-accessible format. As my friend Chris pointed out when discussing this at the pub, everyone's father dies, and that makes it a particularly accessible plot point for a younger audience, more so than alcoholism and commitment issues. For me, it somehow diffuses the character. However, I can't help but think that if you take this approach too far, it will get out of hand. Imagine: Bambi, shattered by the death of his mother at the hands of mysterious assassins, is transformed by his loss into a dark avenger...

- Sid

"Major Matt Mason: Mattel's Man in Space!"

Carter: "You don't have to worry, Major. I played with dolls when I was a kid."
Kawalsky: "G.I. Joe?"
Carter: "No, Major Matt Mason."
Kawalsky: "Oh. Who?"
Ferretti: "Major Matt Mason. Astronaut doll. Did you have that cool little backpack that made him fly?"

- Children of the Gods, Stargate SG-1

Q: What was your favorite toy as a kid?
A: Major Matt Mason. He was a great astronaut: a full-on, lifelike astronaut, made with rubber and wire, kind of like Gumby. He was bendable and poseable, and I went through a few of them because after a while the wires get all twisted.

- Tom Hanks, Disney Adventures magazine interview

Christmas Day, once again. The lessons of charity and goodwill that are associated with Christmas can very often be lost in a flurry of merchandising and money, but even so it's difficult to be too judgemental about the simple pleasures of children and toys. It's a magical time of year for kids, and as such this posting is dedicated to Christmas Past and wonderful gifts.

As I've mentioned in my introduction to the site, I've been a fan of science fiction and fantasy since before I can remember. I was an advanced reader, and as such started reading selections out of my mother's library of fantasy and SF before I'd gotten to double digits in age. However, man does not live by bread alone, and I had all the usual childhood interests in toys, with an understandable influence from my reading choices.

However, keep in mind that I was born in 1961, and when I turned ten in 1971, there was nothing like the selection of science fiction toys that there is on the market today. We were well before the late 70's science fiction marketing boom from Star Wars*, and even then, the marketplace was quite different. Now there's an "action figure" for everything - if you think I'm kidding, go into a specialty comics shop and look around - but in the early 70's, it was either TV merchandising or GI Joe dolls, and sadly, TV had very little to offer the young science fiction afficionado at that point in time.

Ah, but there were certain unexpected advantages to growing up without much money in a rural environment. There was a store called Economy Fair in the nearest town, which, as its name suggested, dealt in lower-end merchandise. In retrospect, I suspect that a lot of their stock probably came from remainders and liquidations, and as such their toy section was a bit out of date and somewhat idiosyncratic, but certainly more affordable than ordering from the Eatons catalogue** would have been.

Regardless, it was out of this uncertain and weedy garden that my mother plucked the rose of my childhood Christmas gifts: Major Matt Mason, "Mattel's Man in Space".

As Tom Hanks says, these were great astronauts. Originally introduced in 1966, they were about six inches tall, and molded out of rubber over a wire and plastic armature, with accordion joints at knees, hips, shoulders and elbows which worked well with the spacesuit look of the figures. The wire frame combined with the accordion joints made the figures very flexible and posable, although over time the wires inside the rubber eventually broke, as might be expected of any piece of wire that a child bends several thousand times.

The basic figures came with a removable spacesuit helmet with a movable yellow visor, but as with any toy like this, there was a whole catalogue of separate accessories, vehicles and buildings available. I had some of them - there was a sort of yellow exo-skeletal power suit, with extendable arms and legs, and I seem to recall some kind of exploration outfit that had tools that you could operate with a combination of tubes and a little plastic bellows system. I also had a space glider, which was a thin plastic shell with a molded pocket at the front for the pilot. I think the only reason I had that particular toy was because the transparent cockpit cover was missing, and it had been marked down as a result, but an elastic band would hold the astronaut in just fine and the damn thing was a pretty good glider if memory serves.

I loved those things, they were the perfect toy as far as I was concerned. I remember that I owned the Major himself, and his alien companion Callisto from Jupiter. I may have had one other figure, maybe Sergeant Storm or possibly another Major, but the accordion joint for his right arm had given up the struggle and torn through, and my childhood imagination couldn't come to terms with a one-armed astronaut. (Although I did recycle one of his feet for Callisto, in spite of the fact that they didn't match at all.)

I made my own accessories, guns and swords (the Major Matt Mason line was surprisingly free of that sort of militaristic baggage) and even produced my own alien race, using tennis balls as bodies and salvaged lengths of wire for arms and legs, with two-prong plugs from dead appliances as heads. Frankly, mine lasted a hell of a lot longer than the Mattel toys, I was certainly using a better grade of wire.

Of course, as children do, I moved on. Eventually the figures fell apart completely, or were consigned to a box somewhere, and I abandoned that part of my childhood. I was saddened to discover that a figure in good shape from the Major Matt Mason line costs hundreds of dollars now, as you might expect from a collectable 40-year old line of science fiction toys. How unfortunate - it's too much money to spend on something like that, even if it would be great to have the Major up on the shelf over my computer, beside my Starcraft Terran Marine, my Japanese VOTOMS battle armour, and the Dalek toy that my friend Alan gave me...okay, maybe I haven't moved on all that far.

- Sid

* Although, coincidentally this is the year that George Lucas' THX 1138 was released.

** The Eatons catalogue was an enormous source of angst in my childhood, the equivalent of supplying someone on a bread and water diet with well-illustrated menus from four star restaurants. The Winter edition with the Christmas offerings used to arrive in September, a few weeks before my birthday, and I would slowly go through the toy section and covet the unattainable therein.

"Barren, silent, godless."

On the far side of the river valley the road passed through a stark black burn. Charred and limbless trunks of trees stretching away on every side. Ash moving over the road and the sagging hands of blind wire strung from the blackened lightpoles whining thinly in the wind.

- Cormac McCarthy, The Road

I've just finished reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road, and I was startled and impressed. So much post-apocalyptic fiction either feels a need for a ray of hope, or fails to believably address the realities of the end of our civilization: McCarthy's grim, ashen future does neither. It is a dark and plausible window into what life might be like in a worst-case scenario.

Science fiction has an almost complete claim on end-of-the-world stories. Fantasy will sometimes address the topic - those of you who haven't read the Narnia books are in for a bit of a shock when they adapt the final volume for the movie screen - but for the most part apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic tales are the province of SF.

But what do we mean by the end of the world? Very few such stories deal with the destruction of the planet itself. In our near-infinite hubris, what is generally considered to be the end of the world is really just the end of humanity, which is not the same thing by a long pitch. (Mary Shelley of Frankenstein fame breaks the ice for this sub-genre of science fiction in 1826, with her novel The Last Man, wherein a plague devastates humanity.)

The first post-apocalyptic novel that I can remember reading is Alas, Babylon, by Pat Frank, which I purchased through the Scholastic Books catalogue when I was about ten or eleven. (I still own that somewhat battered text, although I see that I've had to tape the spine a couple of times.) Originally published in 1959, it's a fairly conventional tale of nuclear war and its aftermath, a popular topic for that period.

I recall enjoying it when I first received it, but in retrospect I'm amused by the almost positive picture that it paints of the aftermath of a thermonuclear exchange. Much of the United States is destroyed, yet the protagonists, located in Florida, don't suffer from fallout, nuclear winter, starvation, or any sort of degradation. A few cardboard characters die tragically, but for the most part the novel portrays the lives of the survivors as a quiet but optimistic struggle, complete with fresh-squeezed orange juice.

In sharp opposition is Nevil Shute's On the Beach, written in 1957. Shute's novel takes place in Australia, the last part of the planet uncontaminated by fallout after a massive nuclear exchange. But this is only a temporary respite: the invisible cloud of airborne death is gradually making its way south, and slow, lingering death is inevitable. However, a thoughtful government has come up with a solution: mass-produced suicide tablets.

The novel portrays a response to inescapable doom that seems depressingly accurate. Characters become alcoholics, take refuge in complete denial, or indulge in high-risk distractions such as suicidally dangerous car racing. In the end, the fallout cloud arrives, radiation poisoning begins to have its way, and everyone takes their pills and dies. The novel ends with an orphaned American submarine making its way into the open sea so that the captain can scuttle his vessel - and kill the crew - in quixotic obedience to military regulations.

The Road takes a different approach. It tells the story of a father and son wandering through the ashen remnants of the world. The nature of the catastrophe is never specifically articulated, there is little backstory, and the father and son are left nameless. All of the detail is reserved for their struggle through the wasted landscape, and how that brutal struggle has molded and in some ways crippled their relationship.

This sparse, masterful narrative, written in McCarthy's signature punctuation-free style, pulled me in completely. I can imagine that this might not be the case for everyone, depending on your background: for me, the evocation of memory, of walking through barren, leafless trees in rain and snow, of monochrome landscapes and no sounds but those of the weather, was complete.

This is in no way a cautionary tale - the anonymous nature of the catastrophe leaves no room for sermons or cries of "Alas!". The equally anonymous nature of the characters allows anyone who reads the novel to slip into their worn shoes and stinking clothing, to see themselves as starving pilgrims without a destination. In spite of that Everyman structure, I'm uncertain about recommending this book to everyone. It's one of those books that is more easily described as impressive or admirable than enjoyable, and that may not be the sort of thing that people are looking for as we enter the holiday season. However, for anyone who does embark on The Road, I can guarantee a unique literary experience.

- Sid

But if you really feel that you have to, I'll be polite about it.

I realize that the holiday season is upon us, and that clothing can be a popular fallback as a gift choice, but I'll be honest, no one needs to knit me a Star Wars sweater.

- Sid

But is Sandra Oh tall enough to play She-Hulk?

I want to do a superhero movie and what would be better than Wonder Woman? And it would be a very bold choice. A black Wonder Woman would be a powerful thing. It's time for that, right?

Beyoncé Knowles, in a Los Angeles Times interview

In the course of recent travels on the internet, I stumbled across an article announcing that Beyoncé Knowles had expressed her interest in playing the part of Wonder Woman in a movie. As I mentioned in a previous post, the election of Barack Obama provides a strong impetus for evaluating the role that race plays, and casting comic book characters provides an interesting proving ground.

That's because comic book fans, serious fans, can be a little bit insane about things. Adapting a comic book to another medium, such as movies or television, is like entering a dragon's den: the possible rewards for success are great (Spiderman, X-Men), but the punishment for failure is severe (Daredevil, Elektra). Comic book fans make Talmudic scholars look like dilettantes in the great search for truth and understanding through continuous examination of the sacred texts, and as such can make or break the movie adaptation of a comic book in the first moment of evaluation. Lord help the script writer who gets some minor detail wrong, like Peter Parker's middle name* - at that point, for the hard core it's all over, regardless of the quality of the rest of the material. And, with that sort of outlook on minutiae, the impact of the casting choice for a character can easily be imagined.

With that in mind, what does comic book canon require - or allow - for Wonder Woman's racial makeup?

Although in broad historical terms the Amazons are generally associated with Greece, Herodotus places the home of the Amazons on the border of Scythia, near the Caucasus Mountains. The comic book origins of Wonder Woman are somewhat different, and have changed a bit over time. Originally Wonder Woman lived on Paradise Island, presumably somewhere in the Mediterranean region, but an 80's reboot established the name as Themyscira, and subsequent events destroyed the original, then created a new Themyscira in the Bermuda Triangle. (Coincidentally, the latitude and longitude specified in the TV version of Wonder Woman placed Paradise Island near that area as well.) Does relocating Wonder Woman's home to the Caribbean allow comic book fans to accept a Wonder Woman of colour, or would they demand adherence to the character's Hellenic roots?

Regardless, there should be other factors in play here. Asian-American actor Tzi Ma has commented on racially generic casting by pointing out that a character does not have to be racially tagged as Asian in order to be played by an Asian actor. "The only thing we can do," says Ma "is to try and make them realize: 'This role does not have to be written Asian. The mere fact that you put me in that role makes the character Asian.' " Is there anything in the character of Wonder Woman that precludes a black actor playing the role - and thereby making it a black character, as per Tzi Ma? I would think not. In fact, I would think that it would add some resonance to the backstory of slavery symbolized by the bracelets worn by all Amazons.

So, Beyoncé as Wonder Woman. Ignoring the extensive preface above, my initial reaction is: why not? In addition to a long lineup of black heroes such as the Black Panther, Luke Cage, Steel, Storm and so forth, it wouldn't be the first time a long-standing comic book character has been racially re-imagined. There's been a black Green Lantern** since the 70's, and Nick Fury, who heads up SHIELD, became a black man at some point when I wasn't paying attention.

However, I think that there's a very basic element of this question that needs to be stated. I think it would be reprehensible if Beyoncé didn't get the role of Wonder Woman because she was black. It's equally wrong for her to get the role because she's black, though. In the ideal situation, everyone should be judged on their merits and abilities, not their colour. Personally, I'd rather see Angela Bassett get it, I think that she would bring a degree of depth to the character that Beyoncé might not.

And then, obviously, there's only one place for the idea to take us next.

- Sid

* Benjamin, from his Uncle Ben - what, did everyone not know that?

** It's an odd combination, that - the phrase "black Green" seems to be somehow contradictory, doesn't it.

A successful ten bucks on Robbie Williams would nicely take care of Christmas presents.

David Tennant, who has been playing the role of the Doctor on Doctor Who for the last three years, has announced that he will be stepping down from the helm of the Tardis at the end of 2009. Sad news, but I can certainly understand why someone would want to get out before it completely took over their life, as has happened with more than a few cast members from Star Trek and its various permutations.

Of course, the immediate question that arises is: who will replace the talented Mr. Tennant? (One has to give full points to series script editor Gerry Davis and producer Innes Lloyd, who were jointly responsible for introducing in 1966 the idea of the Doctor's regeneration as a tool for continuing the series in spite of old age, boredom, and unsuitability on the part of lead actors. Hopefully raises were involved.)

I was surprised to learn that it's possible to gamble on the identity of the new Doctor, and that there is a substantial odds list available:

ODDS ON NEW DOCTOR FROM PADDY POWER (3rd Nov 2008)

• 2/1 David Morrisey
• 6/1 Paterson Joseph
• 8/1 James Nesbitt, Chiwetel Ejiofor
• 10/1 Russell Tovey, John Simm
• 12/1 Anthony Head
• 14/1 Robert Carlyle, David Walliams
• 16/1 Richard E Grant
• 18/1 Richard Coyle, Aidan Gillen, Alan Davies, Sean Pertwee
• 20/1 Jason Statham, Harry Lloyd, Nigel Harman, Marc Warren, Jack Davenport
• 25/1 Julian Walsh, Adrian Lester, Alexander Armstrong
• 33/1 Julian Rhind-Tutt, Rupert Penry-Jones, James McAvoy
• 40/1 Bill Nighy, Stephen Fry, Ben Wishaw
• 50/1 John Barrowman, Ben Miles, David Suchet, Hugh Laurie
• 66/1 Gary Oldman, Matt Smith, Paul Bettany, Joel Beckett, Christopher Eccleston
• 80/1 Alex Kingston, Dean Lennox Kelly, Christopher Villiers
• 100/1 Ricky Gervais
• 150/1 Hugh Grant, Russell Brand, Vinnie Jones
• 200/1 Robbie Williams

Personally, I'd like to see Sean Pertwee get in: as the son of Jon Pertwee, the third Doctor, there's a certain geeky appeal to having him step into the role, and he has some background in the genre. (Apparently he also put fifty quid on himself, according to an interview in The Sun.)

A few of the candidates are black, and one can imagine that there's a tempting synergy involved in following the election of Barack Obama with a Doctor of colour - but wait, why is there only one woman on the list? I'm aware that Joanna Lumley was under consideration a few years back, and David Tennant jokingly suggested that Billie Piper could step into his place quite easily, although for me that would involve one hell of a script. British comedian Jennifer Saunders has been mentioned in connection with the part, although apparently just for a one-off appearance.

For myself, I think that Claudia Black would make a fabulous Doctor*. She has an impressive resumé in the genre, would come with an established fan base, and she's drop dead good looking, something for which Doctor Who has not always been noted. Her transition from Aeryn Sun on Farscape to Vala Mal Doran on Stargate SG-1 demonstrates an ability to move from serious to comedic roles, something that would suit the Doctor's character.

Circumstantial evidence (and smart bettors) would seem to be leaning toward David Morrissey, whose picture appears at the top of this posting beside Ms. Black's. I'm a bit sceptical about Mr. Morrissey, to be honest. Successful Doctors have always had a slight spark of craziness in their personalities - nothing personal, but the man looks as exciting as dry toast. Oh well, let's not give up yet: there's always that 100 to 1 shot that Ricky Gervais will get it.

- Sid

* November 21 - And then the Doctor would be a woman, and Black - I'm sorry, I waited a week but I finally couldn't hold out any more.

Dead is the New Alive.

There was no colour upon her cheek, not even upon her lip; yet there was a stillness about her face that seemed almost as attaching as the life that once dwelt there: -- upon her neck and breast was blood, and upon her throat were the marks of teeth having opened the vein: -- to this the men pointed, crying, simultaneously struck with horror, "A Vampyre! a Vampyre!"

John Polidori, The Vampyre

'What have you done to us?!' Lacrimosa screamed. 'You've taught us how to see hundreds of the damned holy things! They're everywhere! Every religion has a different one! You taught us that, you stupid bastard! Lines and crosses and circles. . . Oh, my. . .' She caught sight of the stone wall behind her astonished brother and shuddered. 'Everywhere I look I see something holy! You've taught us to see patterns!' she snarled at her father, teeth exposed.

Terry Pratchett, Carpe Jugulum

Hallowe'en: originally a festival marking the end of the Celtic harvest, it was considered to be a night when the boundary between the living and the dead grew thin. On that basis, it seems fitting to celebrate Hallowe'en with a discussion of vampires, creatures that also span the line between life and death.

Although the story of the vampire can be traced back to medieval Eastern European folklore, the vampire as modern mythology knows it originates in one place: the 1897 novel Dracula, by Bram Stoker. In the interests of accuracy, John Polidori's The Vampyre precedes it by 78 years, but Time has made its statement, and only a few hard-core fans of the nosferatu are aware of the earlier work, however influential it may have been upon Stoker.

Stoker's novel lays out the basic pros and cons of vampirism quite clearly. The powers of the vampire are legion: immortality, inhuman strength and speed, the ability to regain youth, control over vermin, the power to dissolve into a mist or dust and flow through the smallest crack, or to become a wolf or bat, to see in the dark, to control the minds of his victims, to create new vampires - an impressive array of allies, all in all.

Sadly, balancing that out is a set of rules covering the conduct and vulnerabilities of vampires that make the regulations for major league baseball sound simple. There are, of course, the things that everyone knows about: sunlight, garlic, crosses, holy water, stakes through the heart and beheading. Then there are the less well known regulations, the infield fly rules, if you will. For example, a vampire is unable to enter a dwelling unless someone has invited them in, in which case they are able to enter at will. A vampire must sleep upon the earth of their homeland, and can only cross running water at high or low tide.

I mentioned the running water rule to someone, and they said, "High tide where? Doesn't high tide sort of, move around? What if a vampire was in the middle of Canada, which coast do they have to worry about high tide at?" This takes us to the basic problem of the vampire myth. Originally laid out by a presumably Catholic Irish author in the heart of the Victorian era, it suffers from all sort of holes and flaws.

Sunlight? Okay, how about sun lamps? What portion of the solar spectra actually harms vampires? (In the first Blade movie, a full vampire is out in daylight wearing a thick coating of sunblock - but what about his eyeballs and the inside of his mouth?)

Holy water and the Cross? There's a non-vampire story by Larry Niven in which a character asks if a Moslem vampire would be afraid of a copy of the Koran, which is a perfectly reasonable question. The Terry Pratchett novel quoted above raises the strong possibility that if a vampire was vulnerable to the full range of religious symbology, they wouldn't be able to walk five feet without seeing something that was holy to someone at some point in time. And would a vampire who was an atheist before joining the undead give a damn about any of it?

What constitutes a dwelling? Could a vampire enter a public library without permission? Does a welcome mat that says, "COME ON IN" count as an invitation?

Some authors take this sort of nitpicking into account, and a lot of good stories have been written that deal with the hidden issues of vampirism. In recent years, AIDS has been a large factor, since, obviously, anyone who lives on a diet of blood is at particular risk. But does a vampire have to drink human blood to survive? There are lots of stories wherein a weakened vampire chows down on nearby rats or what have you, but I was really thinking more in terms of blood substitutes, plasma and so forth.

Finally, the question that really puts the nail in the coffin (sorry) for vampirism as a working concept is that of the predator-prey relationship. Population control for creatures at the top of the food chain is generally dealt with by the population of prey: if there are a lot of antelope running around, there can be a suitable ratio of lions. Too many lions, not enough antelope to go around, the excess lions either starve or move to another part of the veldt. What makes this problem worse for vampires is the ability to create new vampires, the ultimate pyramid scheme gone bad. A serious outbreak of vampirism would make an ebola epidemic look like a bad case of acne by comparison. Not only that, but they're immortal, so not even old age would cull the population. So where does the blood come from when everyone is a vampire?

In spite of the heavy hand of logic, vampirism has legions of fans. Vampires have become the supreme anti-heros of popular culture, with their combination of power and hidden - or not so hidden - sexuality. However, unlike UFOs and alien visitors, there doesn't seem to be any sort of substantial lunatic fringe convinced that there is a vast international conspiracy designed to hide the fact that fanged creatures actually do stalk the night in search of blood. Of course, if I were a vampire, that's exactly what I'd want people to think as well - until it was too late...

- Sid

The Demon Child

"She was to be the demon child forever."
Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire.

I'm primarily a science fiction and fantasy fan, but there's always some overlap with the horror genre, and so I'm familiar with Stephen King, H. P. Lovecraft, Anne Rice, et al. When staying in New Orleans a couple of years ago, I visited the grave of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen, wandered through the empty, evocative lanes of the St. Louis Cemetery with its crumbling crypts and memorials to the dead, and in London I followed the path of Jack the Ripper, walking on Whitechapel cobblestones unchanged since his reign of terror in 1888.

However, I recognize my status as a dilettante. In preparation for Hallowe'en, here's someone who's serious about all of this - I'd like to present my niece, Jody: vampire AND zombie.

- Sid

That scraping sound you hear is the bottom of the barrel.

The late George Carlin used to do a routine about urinals, which he would preface by admitting that if you found yourself talking about urinals, you'd probably missed some more important topic along the line. Similarly, the news that the Los Angeles Opera is staging a new opera based on The Fly suggests that there must have been SOMETHING else that should have been converted to song and stage first.

And yes, we're talking about the David Cronenberg movie, the one where Jeff Goldblum morphs into a decaying insectoid monster. Okay, if forced to, I could probably come up with some kind of comparison between Brundle and Faust, but it would certainly be a struggle. The whole thing is vaguely reminiscent of the Simpsons episode where Troy McClure stars in the musical adaptation of Planet of the Apes - although probably not intended to be funny.

- Sid

Part Two: The Dark Side

William Shatner: You know, before I answer any more questions there's something I wanted to say. Having received all your letters over the years, and I've spoken to many of you, and some of you have traveled... y'know... hundreds of miles to be here, I'd just like to say... GET A LIFE, will you people? I mean, for crying out loud, it's just a TV show! I mean, look at you, look at the way you're dressed! You've turned an enjoyable little job, that I did as a lark for a few years, into a COLOSSAL WASTE OF TIME! I mean, how old are you people? What have you done with yourselves? You, you must be almost 30... have you ever kissed a girl? I didn't think so! There's a whole world out there! When I was your age, I didn't watch television! I LIVED! So... move out of your parent's basements! And get your own apartments and GROW THE HELL UP! I mean, it's just a TV show dammit, IT'S JUST A TV SHOW!

Charlie: Are - are you saying then that we should pay more attention to the movies?

- Saturday Night Live, December 20, 1986

The infamous Saturday Night Live skit with William Shatner takes us to one of the curious aspects of science fiction that has almost defined the genre in the eyes of the public: the Star Trek Fan, or "Trekkie".

It is customary to blame Fandom on Star Trek, and let's be fair, if fingers have to be pointed, Gene Roddenberry's opus really does create the first really big (and slightly insane) fan community. Star Wars and Harry Potter have attracted more than their fair share of, ah, "overly-excited" followers, but I still think that Star Trek sets the standard. In fact, as a phenomenon, Star Trek fandom has probably garnered as much attention as the material that created it.

And let's be honest, some of the excesses of Star Trek fans would sound like jokes if they weren't true. In fact, they are true and they still sound like jokes. Bad enough that someone has translated Hamlet in Klingon, but who in their right mind would decide to raise their children bilingually in English and Klingon, for heaven's sake? Yes, fine, it's probably a bit marginal to admit to attending Star Trek conventions in costume, but several years ago I was sitting in a strip club in Toronto (I make no apologies) and someone walked in wearing a full Next Generation Star Fleet uniform. Hallowe'en? No, sorry, middle of summer. (I saw one of the dancers chatting with him, and later asked her if she'd gotten any explanation of his outfit. Apparently he just liked the attention that it brought - which was probably not intended to be funny, in spite of the fact that he was talking to someone who was wearing a g-string and fishnet stockings for similar reasons.) Plenty of fans write their own versions of the material: Star Trek fans build eerily accurate duplicates of the bridge of the Enterprise and hire Walter Koenig and George Takei so that they can shoot their own episodes. (Don't believe that one? http://www.startreknewvoyages.com/)

As Shatner's monologue points out, over the years Star Trek has replaced real life for innumerable geeks, losers, nerds and fanboys. And yet...and yet...time heals all wounds. Somehow the ongoing cultural penetration of Star Trek has given it an unexpected legitimacy, to the point where it's become (dare I say) almost respectable to display a comprehensive grasp of the history of the Federation charter when chatting over cocktails. And, if anyone wishes to join the select, enviable few that possess that kind of knowledge, just let me know. After all, I do own TWO copies of the original Starfleet Technical Manual...

- Sid

Part One: the best known split infinitive of all time.

Space: The final frontier
These are the voyages of the starship, Enterprise
Its 5 year mission
To explore strange new worlds
To seek out new life and new civilizations
To boldly go where no man has gone before...

Today we celebrate the birthday of one of the great science fiction icons: the original Star Trek, which began its run on September 8th, 1966.* It is impossible to think of any other piece of popular entertainment that has had the same impact on society as this short-lived NBC series, which only managed to limp along for three seasons before being cancelled.

Why is the damn thing so popular?

For the moment, let's ignore all of the sequels, movies, spin-offs, cartoons, comic books, novels, and games: let's just look at the original Star Trek, because it paves the way for all of the others. All of the succeeding material is a bit like preaching to the choir - the original series is what creates the enormous following that allows for everything that follows. So let's jump back in time (pardon me a minor science fiction moment there) to 1966 and have a look at the original Star Trek in its natural environment.

In 1966, science fiction is thin on the ground for the television viewer. The Twilight Zone had come and gone (with a younger William Shatner featured in the episode, "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet") and since then very little has come to fill the gap. Lost In Space is starting its second season, but it's already starting down the road to increasingly juvenile and camp episodes, and The Time Tunnel, an unfortunate pastiche of historical inaccuracy and movie filler shots, begins its first season. Bewitched and Batman are only marginally in the genre, and Dark Shadows is more of a soap opera than anything else.

Having listed the competition, the question becomes more one of why Star Trek wasn't more successful than it was! Full credit has to go to Gene Roddenberry, creator of Star Trek, for the breadth of his vision of the 23rd Century. Unsuspecting people who didn't know their Asimovs from their Ellisons (so to speak) were suddenly exposed to a startling array of marvels: fast-than-light warp drive, the transporter**, phasers and photon torpedoes, replicators, tractor beams, force fields, time travel, parallel universes, alien races, planet killers, androids, galactic empires, and the entire catalogue of future wonders. It must have hit unsuspecting viewers like a bomb when compared to the alternatives.

The main characters are perhaps a little one-dimensional, but the real value of the triumvirate of Spock, Kirk and McCoy is that they represent the elements of Logic, Will and Emotion that are constantly in conflict in everyone's character, but externalized and given life. Similarly, at their best the plot lines deal with topics on an almost Shakespearian level, the constants of love, hate, laughter and fear that are the mainstays of life. Are all of the episodes brilliant? No, of course not, but even at its worst Star Trek has a feeling of elemental appeal, of addressing fundamental issues and questions.

And yet, somehow, all of that is secondary to the real significance of the program. The Cold War is a very real threat in 1966. In 1962, a mere four years earlier, the Cuban Missile Crisis had poised the world on the brink of nuclear war, and the hands of the Doomsday Clock stand at seven minutes to midnight. Meanwhile, angry crowds barrage Martin Luther King with stones and bricks in Chicago, Malcolm X has been dead for just over a year, and the Watts Riots are still an angry memory.

Star Trek presented a future in which humanity, as a species, had survived - not a perfect future, but a better one, a hopeful one, and the word "hope" is the one most often used when the importance of the show is discussed. The multi-racial bridge crew represented one aspect of that hope: again, forty years after the event, it's difficult to realize how astonishing the character of Lieutenant Uhura was in 1966, where the concept of a woman of colour occupying a position of authority would still have been extraordinary - and inspirational.

"Inspirational" may be the key to all of it. If, as is the dream of every science fiction fan, we eventually make our way to the stars, some small credit for that leap should lie with Star Trek, simply for suggesting that we might be capable of making it.

- Sid

* We also celebrate the birthday of Paul Levesque, TPH courier, but since he hasn't spawned any spinoffs or sequels, there are no Paul Levesque conventions, and his fan base, although dedicated, is much smaller, some other blogger is going to have to discuss his quirky success.

** I know full well that the transporter was invented in order to save the money that would have been spent on special effects shots of the Enterprise landing on planets, but that in no way diminishes the brilliance of the idea.

"Madness, as you know, is like gravity."

"Do I really look like a man with a plan, Harvey? I don’t have a plan. The mob has plans, the cops have plans. You know what I am, Harvey? I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do if I caught one. I just do things. I’m a wrench in the gears. I hate plans. Yours, theirs, everyone’s."

The Joker, The Dark Knight

Having now seen The Dark Knight, I have to agree with the general opinion that Heath Ledger does a stellar turn as the Joker. However, it may be too stellar a turn - the Joker's dominance of the movie turns it into something other than a Batman story.

No one that I've spoken to after they've seen the movie makes any reference to the Batman at all. All the comments are about the Joker: as a character, as a performance, as an idea. When The Phantom Menace came out, disgruntled fans did guerilla cuts of the movie without the character of Jar Jar Binks, and I have to wonder how The Dark Knight would play out if someone went through and remove the Batman. What would you have left? It would be a kind of twisted morality play, the Joker versus Harvey Dent, Gotham's white knight, and an almost inevitable turning of that symbol to the sort of insanity and chaos that he has opposed. Normally the Batman acts as an equal counterweight to the Joker, order versus chaos, but in this case he seems overwhelmed by the Joker's glittering madness.

Logic says that credit for the creation of that madness should lie with Jonathon and Christopher Nolan, the screenwriters. After all, an actor is only as good as his material, and so much of the Joker's material is so very quotable. But in this case, the performance so completely suits the material - Heath Ledger gives the Joker a kind of febrile madness completely different from the original "Clown Prince of Crime" version of the character, to the point where Ledger is invisible behind - or within - the role. When we see Jack Nicholson as the Joker, part of the reaction to his performance is the recognition of Nicholson in an uncharacteristic place, whereas Heath Ledge vanishes completely within the smeared, corrupted clown makeup of his Joker.

The New York Post reported that Ledger spent six weeks in virtual isolation as he experimented with the character of the Joker. As part of the process, he is said to have kept a journal of the Joker's thoughts, a document whose appearance in some form or another is inevitable. No one will ever be able to say with any certainty if the performance had any connection with Ledger's death, although personally it seems too much like a convenient news hook rather than a believable tragedy.

And the rest of the cast? I'm sorry to say that I found Christian Bale's performance to be workmanlike, like he was only doing the job he was hired to do. I acknowledge the difficulty of acting behind a cape and cowl, but there are times when his Batman almost feels like a parody, with too much concentration on the gravelly tone of menace. The scenes that he shares with Michael Caine are probably his best, but unfortunately Caine probably has the second best lines in the movie after the Joker's.

Does Batman come in third for dialogue? Sorry, third place goes to Aaron Eckhart's Harvey Dent. As suggested above, you could easily turn the movie into a struggle between Dent and the Joker, and it's unfortunate that Eckhart and Ledger ended up in the same film. Eckhart could have easily supported an entire plot line with Dent versus Batman, but in this case he ends up as a bit of a sideshow. Oh, and I'm sorry to say that for me, Maggie Gyllenhaal comes across as a placeholder: "Stand here and read these lines - thanks." (I seem to be having a critical summer in terms of female love interests, Glyneth Paltrow also didn't work for me in Iron Man.)

I'm curious as to where they'll go from here. Someone must be kicking themselves about the decision to kill off Two-Face and keep the Joker alive, given how subsequent events have unfolded. It's oddly fitting, somehow - it's almost like some kind of slightly twisted joke...

- Sid

Tradition requires some kind of reference to "Braaaains".

Saturdays tend to be sort of a quiet day for me: usually I do the laundry first thing, catch up on e-mail, and maybe head downtown for a little shopping. Today, as I was walking around in the downtown core, I thought to myself, "Boy, there's a lot more zombies than usual lurching around down here." (And really, there aren't usually that many in the first place, in spite of what my friend Laurie would say about the general population.) Upon returning home, a little investigation on the internet revealed that today was the 2008 Vancouver Zombie Walk. "Oh, well then," I thought, "that explains everything."

The 2008 what?

The first Zombie Walk took place in Sacramento in 2001 as a promotional stunt for a B-movie film festival, and somehow the idea has gone internationally viral since then. For no good reason that I can imagine, Canada appears to score quite highly in terms of zombie walks, and somehow I can't quite bring myself to add that to my list of reasons for Canada being the best country in the world.* Nonetheless, should anyone wish to seek out an exciting part-time career with the walking dead, further information can be found at http://www.zombiewalk.com/ and http://www.crawlofthedead.com/

-Sid

*Although, to our credit, people were pretty calm about it. I think that in a lot of countries someone would have been tempted to add realism by shooting the participants in the head with a shotgun.

A small request.

Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of - but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards.

Robert A. Heinlein, The Notebooks of Lazarus Long

I would like to thank my small readership for the compliments and observations about my blog that they have passed on in person or over the phone. But I'd be very grateful if you'd leave a comment on the blog, as well - I just think that it looks more, I don't know, lived-in, if people leave a note now and then.

-Sid

And also to you amen.

Architecture penguin catalogue misanthrope boilerplate unnecessary bus recent multiple random generation reply your neighborhood here meaningless modern decay ware idiosyncratic polymath and also to you amen typo giveaway subjunctive sesquipedalian dance.

-Anonymous, spam

Today at work I was chatting with Paul the in-house courier, an affable and entertaining young fellow, and we were discussing some random word spam that had made its way past the new Printing House spam filters. The spam in question had absolutely no sales pitch of any sort, it was just word salad, and we were speculating as to why anyone would send it. We agreed that it was probably just some sort of low-pass reconnaissance by the spammer community, just testing to see what would get through, but I presented the alternative theory that they were net dreams - the nascent consciousness of the Internet manifesting itself as the same sort of garbled metaphor that any of us might experience during a run of rapid eye movement.

Obviously, it's the first explanation, but imagine, imagine if it was the second one. The nature of consciousness is elusive at the best of times, and investigations of the phenomenon are hampered by that elusiveness. Recommended reading here would be Julian Jaynes' The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind, wherein he suggests that consciousness bears the same relationship to reality that roadmaps do to the landscape - a duplicate in another medium that allows us to find our way.* The Internet, with its odd connections, its millions of nodes, and its constant flow of information, would seem to be an acceptable start in the process of creating a digital analog of the human mind, a "duplicate in another medium".

But will that lead to consciousness? Science fiction author Vernor Vinge has suggested that there is a point in our future where the combination of humans and computers will cause the creation of some kind of superhuman intelligence, leading to a leap in our evolution that will defy description. He refers to this shift as the Singularity, and is understandably (or perhaps sadly) vague about how it will take place and what it will mean to us. In his defense, how could he be specific? What sort of leap of imagination could predict the nature of post-humanism? In his novel Marooned in Realtime, Vinge sets his scene by having a small portion of humanity that has been in stasis for a variety of reasons emerging in a post-Singularity world where the rest of humanity has vanished, leaving behind only vague clues as to the nature of the transcendent experience that has led to their disappearance.

I have to admit to being sceptical about the concept: jokes about internet dreams aside, I don't think that we are one step closer to the creation of technological sentience than we were a thousand years ago. Well, to be fair, we're one step closer - I suspect that in 1008 no one was thinking about it at all.

- Sid

* Yes, I DO own a copy of Mr. Jaynes' book, for the doubters among you. And, just to completely establish my geek credibility, I stumbled across it in a used book store and purchased it because I'd seen the Beast reading it in an issue of X-Men.

"See, there were these two guys in a lunatic asylum..."

Batman: "I don't know what it was that bent your life out of shape, but who knows? Maybe I've been there too. Maybe I can help. We could work together. I could rehabilitate you. You needn't be out there on the edge any more. You needn't be alone. We don't have to kill each other."

"What do you say?"

The Joker: "No. I'm sorry, but... No. It's too late for that. Far too late. Hahaha. Y'know, it's funny. This situation. It reminds me of a joke..."

"See, there were these two guys in a lunatic asylum..."

Alan Moore, The Killing Joke

Great things are being said about the new Batman movie, The Dark Knight, with a lot of attention being given to the late Heath Ledger's portrayal of the Joker. I was surprised to discover that the look of the original Joker was inspired by a 1928 silent film entitled The Man Who Laughs, based on a 1869 Victor Hugo novel and starring Conrad Veidt in the title role. The bizarre grin sported by the protagonist is caused by deliberate mutilation when he is only two years old.

I haven't seen the new movie yet (I like to give it a couple of weeks in order to let the fanboy community get out of the way) but I've heard a couple of people comment with surprise on how the Joker is portrayed as a complete anarchist, a villain with no motive other than the creation of chaos. I've also heard some media commentary on how the Batman is presented in a darker fashion, more brutal than previous incarnations.

Really? My god, where have you people been? Oh, sorry, I tend to forgot that the mainstream only knows Batman from the 60's TV series and the movies - which is unfortunate, since they really haven't done justice to any of the characters. In fact, the closest that the popular media have come to a satisfactory portrayal of the Batman and his villains is in the three animated series done over the last few years. (For you trivia fans, Mark Hamill of Star Wars fame was the creator of the superb Joker voice in Batman: The Animated Series.)

Recommended reading would have to be DC Comic's The Killing Joke, now celebrating its 20th anniversary. Brian Bolland, the artist, is not at his best with Batman, but his portrayal of the Joker as a grotesque clown is perfect. Alan Moore's script is equally perfect, and leads one to wonder about the difficulties of writing from the perspective of a character who is insane.

Less approachable is the 1989 graphic novel Arkham Asylum, written by Grant Morrison and illustrated by Dave McKean. This experimental work, done with a combination of illustrative techniques, points out the essential truth of the Batman series: all of the characters, including Batman himself, are insane.

Notice that no one ever goes to prison - the criminals are all incarcerated in an asylum for the criminally insane. And Batman, as much as any of his opponents, is psychotic: the product of a childhood trauma that created an obsession with cold, hard, rigorous justice that has extended to a schizoid alter ego that dresses like a bat and stalks the night in search of criminals, each of whom represents, in some way, the man who killed his parents. As the Joker observes in Arkham Asylum when one of the other inmates says that they should take off Batman's mask and see his real face, "Oh, don't be so predictable, for Christ's sake! That is his real face."

- Sid

P.S. I feel like someone who's gone into the supermarket for milk and come out with $200 of groceries. Originally all I was going to do was mention the Conrad Veidt connection for the look of the Joker, but an hour later, which included digging out The Killing Joke and scanning the cover, I end up with a psychological treatise...

"The beacons are lit!"

Now all roads were running together to the East to meet the coming of war and the onset of the Shadow.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

"The beacons are lit! The beacons of Minas Tirith! Gondor calls for aid!"

Aragorn son of Arathorn stands panting as Théoden and his council look up to hear his news. There is a brief pause - what will Théoden King do? Will he honour his people's commitment, to fight and die in battle for allies who are distant both in miles and in friendship? A pause, and then:

"And Rohan will answer. Muster the Rohirrim!"

To purists, Peter Jackson's version of The Lord of the Rings is full of omissions and changes, most of which - to purists - are considered to be for the worse. For myself, I consider Jackson's work to be a brilliant attempt to adapt the unadaptable, and as such his compromises with the original material are made in the best interests of his vision of the work. Whatever your opinion, it's hard to deny that Jackson took the best swing at the ball that he possibly could, and the results have a visual impact that is undeniable.

In the original text, the lighting of the beacons and the summoning of allies to Minas Tirith as the hand of Sauron begins to close upon it is a relatively minor event, accompanied by foreshadowing comments about Denethor's ability to "read somewhat of the future" and "at times search even the mind of the Enemy".

 

 

In the movie version, Gandalf arranges for the beacons to be lit through trickery, and we see a long line of flickering signals, bursting into flame one after another, marching across the mountains to Rohan where Aragorn sits. The speed and immediacy with which the beacons light is obviously a narrative tool, allowing a quick transition from Minas Tirith to Rohan.

But imagine for a moment the realities of such a situation. Imagine the watch at the beacons, men who have been all but exiled to mountain peaks hundreds of miles from their homes, doomed to know nothing of the events that have prompted the lighting of the message fires. Freezing, probably close to starvation on whatever meagre rations have been transported to their posts on the peaks of the mountains, sentenced to an unknown period of sentry-go, and yet, when the moment arrives, remaining faithful and vigilant, acting almost instantly to perform their duty and initiate a war which will be resolved for good or ill long before they would be able to busk themselves and make their long weary way to the field of battle.

And when all is said and done, one can only wonder if such men would be honoured or forgotten.

- Sid

We'll go with "incestuous" for this one.

Over the last few years, television science fiction series have become oddly...recursive? incestuous? - you know, I couldn't find a term that was appropriate. I refer to the practise of casting both guest spots and ongoing roles using actors who have appeared in other shows. Ben Browder and Claudia Black from Farscape ended up on Stargate SG-1, as did Robert Picardo from Voyager, (who then moved to Stargate Atlantis, along with Jewel Staite from Firefly); James Marsters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer did a recurring role on Smallville and a guest spot on Torchwood, and Anthony Head did one on Doctor Who; Andreas Katsulas from Babylon 5 showed up on Enterprise; and in the great recursive coup of all time, Richard Hatch returned to Battlestar Galactica.

But somehow all of that seems to pale against recent events from Doctor Who. Rumour has it that David Tennant, the Doctor, has recently started dating Georgia Moffett, who appeared in an episode of Doctor Who entitled "The Doctor's Daughter" in the titular role of the Doctor's daughter. Just to make the situation a little weirder than it already sounds, Ms. Moffett is actually the daughter of Peter Davison, who played the fifth incarnation of Doctor Who. So, just to clarify that, they cast the daughter of the fifth Doctor to play the daughter of the current Doctor, who then decided to ask her out. I realize that there's nothing actually wrong with any of that, it just seems odd, somehow.

- Sid

Less than one?

You know, you really have to wonder how many semi-SF amputee-babe-with-weapon-on-the-stump movies the world really needs...

- Sid

A Million Vacations.

SIGHTSEEING 

You are not my guide. My guide was bipedal.
We Earth people do not do that.
Oh, what a jolly fine natatorium (mating perch, arranged spectacle, involuntary phenomenon)!
At what hour does the lovelorn princess hurl herself into the flaming volcano? May we participate?
Please direct me to the nearest sentient mammal.
Take me to the Earth Consulate without any delay.

- Joanna Russ, Useful Phrases for the Tourist

Just returned from a week and a half in Ontario, and I have to say that as vacations go, it was pretty good. Usually I visit foreign locations when I have time off, but it had been almost a year since I'd been back east, and I felt more than a little overdue. 

The World's Biggest Bookstore at Edward and Yonge in Toronto continues to be a superior shopping location. I can't speak for their approach to other genres, but from the perspective of the science fiction and fantasy fan, it's a great spot. Although currently under the umbrella of Indigo/Chapters, the WBB seems to be free from their more irritating policies: science fiction and fantasy aren't separated, thereby allowing more continuity for authors who write in both areas and avoiding conflicts over exactly what category in which to place some of the more ambiguous authors. (What IS Perdido Street Station, really?) 

In addition, they also seem to have some extra latitude in terms of their selection. One of their end displays prominently features a pulp fiction retrospective which includes lesser known characters of Robert E. Howard's such as Bran Mak Morn and Almuric in addition to the inevitable Conan the Barbarian selections. 

The same display includes a couple of C. L. Moore short story collections, Leigh Brackett, and two Norvell Page collections featuring the Spider, Page's answer to the Shadow et al. The WBB also has enough distance between displays that it's possible to see the bottom shelf without bending over or crouching down, which is greatly appreciated by those of us with iffy knees.

Moving on from the WBB, I head down to Queen Street and the Silver Snail, a landmark in the Toronto comic book scene since 1976. (Gosh, what year did they move to their current address? They were about a block or so further east when I started visiting Toronto in the late 70's.) Originally focused purely on new and used/collectable comics, over time an increasingly large and varied selection of action figures, models and toys has been added to the store's lineup. Although I gave up buying comics a few years ago, I still like to go in and see if things have changed in either the store or the marketplace, and end up making a purchase after all: the DC Comics Elseworlds edition of Red Son. What if Superman's capsule had landed in Russia instead of the American Midwest? It's an interesting question - after all, Superman was only fighting for "Truth, Justice and the American Way" because that was how he'd been raised. Red Son examines how different things might have been if he had grown up on a Soviet collective farm. (Sidebar: Stalin translates into English as "man of steel".) 

A rippling drumbeat from a sidewalk performer echoes along the buildings as I cross Spadina, and a young man in cargo shorts and t-shirt rushes by, clutching a hammer and three sharpened stakes - presumably en route to some kind of Buffy inspired rendezvous with a trio of vampires. Further along the block is Bakka-Phoenix, the latest incarnation of the venerable Queen Street science fiction and fantasy bookstore. 

Originally just Bakka (it's a Dune reference, for those of you not among the cognoscenti) it opened further east on Queen Street in 1972, moved to Yonge Street in 1998, and it's been back on Queen since 2005, just a little further west and comfortably out of the trendy section. Sadly, the front window no longer explains the provenance of the name. 

 Even more sadly, the used book section is a pale shadow of its former self, although it's possible that this may not be a planned development. While I'm there, a young woman comes in desperately seeking the Amber series by Roger Zelazny, and heads to the used section in hopes of saving a little cash. The staff member on site provides the surprising statistic that no one has brought an individual Zelazny text in for sale since 1998. (Frankly, I'm a little sceptical about that, ten years seems like an awfully long dry spell, although it's a nice little tribute to the late Mr. Zelazny.) 

Bakka (I'm sorry, the Phoenix part doesn't fly for me, no pun intended) has always been distinguished by the dedication and knowledge of the staff - not surprising given the number of genre authors who have worked there. I have no idea if the woman working the cash is an author or not, but she displays a wide and varied knowledge of both the inventory and the field as customers ask her a variety of questions.

I buy a couple of books, and manage to make my escape after only a limited interaction with Michelle, a long term employee (and monumental bitch) who sweeps into the store just as I'm paying for my selections. 

 Interestingly enough, all three stores provide evidence that the US/Canadian book price situation is being dealt with on the grass-roots level as well as being addressed by the publishers. My Charles Stross novel from the WBB only has a one-dollar difference in price, as opposed to the illogical three-dollar difference of last year. The Silver Snail sells me Red Son for US cover price, rather than the four-dollar-higher Canadian price, and Bakka has marked down one of the books that I buy by fifty cents - okay, not a lot, but for an independent outlet where every penny counts, it's a noteworthy gesture. 

- Sid