Wasteland.

On Monday night, my friend Chris and I went to a showing of 1917, a gripping, dramatic film which really doesn't need to rely on the additional trick of being a single extended shot (well, two shots, to be accurate, the main character is knocked out at one point in the film).  It's a timely viewing, given that I've just finished reading one of the books that I purchased during my recent Toronto trip:  1917 - Wasteland:  The Great War and the Origins of Modern Horror, by W. Scott Poole.

It's Poole's contention that modern horror finds its origins in the literally horrifying environment of the trench war: mud, blood, mold and decay, a hellish landscape punctuated by fetid shellholes, unburied bodies, and mutilated soldiers.

Art is always a window into its own time and place, and I certainly agree with his comments regarding the influence of the war on artistic movements such as Dada and Surrealism, and its role in the rise of fascist politics as a response to the chaos of the battlefield, but the connections he makes to the genre of early 20th Century horror don't have the same authority for me.

Historically speaking, almost all of the best known stories that lay the groundwork for horror as we know it today predate World War One:  Mary Shelley's Frankenstein revived his monster in 1818, Edgar Allan Poe wrote The Telltale Heart, The Cask of Amontillado, and The Fall of the House of Usher in the middle of the 19th century, Robert Louis Stevenson published The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in 1886, and Bram Stoker's Dracula made its debut in 1897.  H. G. Wells, whose writing is admittedly considered to be more science fiction than horror, released The Island of Doctor Moreau in 1896 and The Invisible Man in 1897.

The villain of The Phantom of the Opera, written in 1909, is deformed from birth, rather than due to the misfortunes of combat.  Ambrose Bierce, noted literary creator of the odd and the uncanny, vanished in Mexico and was presumed dead in 1914,  and Howard Phillip Lovecraft, commonly cited as one of the most influential figures in the development of the horror genre, wrote his first published tale of indescribable eldritch monstrosity in June of 1917, a month before the start of the war.

The equally classic horror films of the post-war era draw heavily upon that pre-war catalogue of horror fiction, with movies such as The Phantom of the Opera, 1925; Dracula, 1931; Frankenstein, 1931; Island of Lost Souls, based on The Island of Dr. Moreau, 1932; and The Invisible Man in 1933.

However, it's Poole's contention that the success of these films, regardless of their source material, reflect a specific post-war zeitgeist:  Frankenstein's patchwork monster represents the fragmentary corpses of the trenches and craters, the Phantom's mask (and ruined visage) echo the masked faces of mutilated veterans, and the bandages seen on the Invisible Man and the Mummy are the same bandages that cocooned wounded soldiers.  Dr. Moreau's surgical theatre, the "house of pain" of the movie, reflects the harrowing, nightmarish procedures of the front line hospitals.

For me, the strength of Poole's thesis lies in extending the effects of the first world war through the rise of fascism in Europe and from there into the origins of World War II, which seems far more resonant in terms of its genre influence. In my mind, World War II, or more accurately, the events of the Holocaust, represent a more significant line of demarcation than World War I in terms of its effect on the continuity of horror to the modern day.

It’s much easier for me to connect the psychopathic physical brutality of movies like Psycho, the Halloween, Saw and Friday the 13th franchises, and a myriad of other slasher films, to the Nazi concentration camps in their shared inhuman indifference and disregard for the human body.  World War II is more commonly associated with the spectre of nuclear destruction and the effects of radiation on the world, but it also revealed a more subtle and frightening truth:  the idea that the most horrifying, cold-blooded and pitiless monsters can actually be other human beings.

- Sid

And weighs as much as 16,788,000 Timbits.

And yes, the internet will tell you how much a Timbit weighs - because Canada.

- Sid

"Be the captain they remember."

Though much is taken, much abides; and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

 Alfred Lord Tennyson, Ulysses

From the very beginning of the first episode of Picard, it's obvious that  the series will be catering to nostalgia on the part of the Star Trek fan base, as Data and Picard play poker in Ten Forward on the Enterprise to the tune of Blue Skies, the Irving Berlin tune that Data performed at Riker and Troi's wedding in Star Trek: Nemesis - and which B4, his less sophisticated duplicate, attempts to sing at the end of the movie.

 

Sadly, it's only a dream, but a dream whose ending suggests disaster and chaos, as the surface of Mars erupts in explosive flames that engulf the Enterprise,  The explosion jolts Picard into awareness in his bedroom at Chateau Picard, where his dog, Number One, runs to greet his troubled master.

We then jump to Greater Boston, where a young woman celebrating a new job appointment with her boyfriend is suddenly assaulted by masked assassins, who kill him then restrain and blindfold her. Surprisingly, she is able to eliminate them all - while blindfolded - and afterwards has a vision:  the face of Jean-Luc Picard.

The music for the title sequence that follows is more thoughtful and introspective than the standard Star Trek themes that we've heard in the past, almost wistful - a motif that provides the theme for the first episode, aptly entitled Remembrance.

We are presented with a Jean-Luc Picard who is in retirement if not decline, withdrawn to self-imposed exile at the family estate in France, living a life of quiet seclusion and unexpectedly attended to by a pair of Romulans.  When pressed by one of them regarding his bad dreams, Picard comments that "The dreams are lovely, it's the waking up that I'm beginning to regret."

An unexpectedly adversarial media interview reveals that ten years earlier, while Picard was in charge of a humanitarian effort by the Federation to help evacuate Romulus before its sun became a supernova, rogue synthetics destroyed the Utopia Planetia shipyards on Mars, setting the entire planet on fire.  This disaster leads the Federation to withdraw from the rescue mission, causing Picard to resign in protest.

In a burst of temper, Picard verbally savages the interviewer and storms out of the room.

Later, as he consoles himself with a glass of wine, he is surprised by the woman from Boston, who has come to him for help after seeing his interview.

Her name is Dahj, and she is unable to explain why she has decided that he will be able to protect and help her. However, as they talk, she confesses to a sense of connection to Picard, from deep within her.

The next morning, after Picard has once again dreamed of Data, who is this time working on a painting, she has vanished from her room.  Disturbed by something in his dream, Picard visits Starfleet Archives to take a trip into his past in what is essentially a memory palace, a storeroom containing mementos such as models of the Stargazer, his first command, a Klingon bat'leth, and a banner from Captain Picard Day.  He extracts a canvas from storage, a 30 year old painting by Data entitled "Daughter".  The face in the painting is that of Dahj.

Leaving the archive, Picard is surprised to see Dahj again, who had left the chateau rather than take a chance of placing Picard in peril. Picard explains that she may in some way be connected to Data, but she is horrified by the suggestion that she may not be real. She then somehow senses that another kill squad is on its way, and although they try to escape, Dahj dies in battle with the assassins, who are revealed to be Romulans.

Picard, knocked out by the explosion that kills Dahj, awakens at home.  He has been returned there by the police, who claim that the security feeds showed him to be alone at Star Fleet headquarters. Spurred by what he sees as a failure to both himself and to Dahj, Picard is determined to solve the mystery set before him.

His first step is to visit the Daystrom Institute of Advanced Robotics in Okinawa, where he is met by by Dr. Agnes Jurati, one of the institute's researchers, with whom Picard discusses the possibility of flesh and blood androids.She explains that following the attack on Mars, synthetic life forms and AI research have been harshly restricted, but that even before then, they had only been able to produce relatively primitive artificial life forms.

However, Picard learns that Bruce Maddox, who unsuccessfully attempted to have Data disassembled in the classic Next Generation episode, The Measure of a Man, has vanished from the Institute following the ban.  Picard shows Jurati a necklace left behind by Dahj, which she recognizes as a symbol for fractal neuronic cloning: a theory of Maddox's positing that Commander Data's code, even his memories, could be recreated from a single positronic neuron.

Jurati then comments that this process would result in pairs of androids - twins.  Picard comments thoughtfully, "So there’s another..."

The episode concludes by giving us the final pieces of the puzzle with an enigmatic glimpse at the current location of Dajh's twin sister Soji on a derelict Borg cube being reclaimed by Romulans.

Remembrance is an intriguing and well written episode, as might well be expected given the involvement of Pulitzer-prize winning author Michael Chabon in the project, and I'm curious to see where the story will take us, and which of the characters from the Star Trek universe will make an appearance.  (It's already been teased that Jeri Ryan will return as Seven of Nine, which would suggest that the Borg cube will play a significant part in the story.)   It's also a pleasure to see Patrick Stewart return to the role of Jean-Luc Picard, bringing back the charm, humour, compassion, earnest conviction and strength of character that typified his portrayal of the captain.

However, it's obvious that neither Picard nor Stewart are young men any more.  As with his portrayal of Professor X in Logan, there are hints of King Lear in Stewart's performance as Picard, especially in his fit of rage during his interview, and his subsequent regret.  There's also an echo of Star Trek: Generations - it's easy to see that Picard, like James T. Kirk in that film, wants to matter again.

One has to wonder if this series is intended to mark the end of Picard's story in a similar fashion to that of the Professor, or Kirk - will Picard ultimately fail to survive his search for the solution to this mystery?

If this series is intended to present us with the last act of Captain - now Admiral* - Picard, hopefully it won't be too soon.  As Picard wistfully comments to Data in the opening sequence, he doesn't want the game to end - and neither do his fans.

- Sid

* "Retired!"

Geekmas 2019: And we're done here.

It's almost a month now since Christmas Day, and since then I've also received the first book in the Epic Yarns Star Wars series as an unexpected gift, bought one of the unpurchased books from my seasonal gift list at Bakka Books in Toronto, and just received a well-made NOSTROMO t-shirt and the third Epic Yarns book from Amazon™ at work today, purchased with gift cards that I received for Christmas.  So let's call it a wrap for Geekmas 2019 - no pun intended.

- Sid

Four Day Geekend: Postscript.

 

Both my pieces of carry-on luggage were carefully hand checked by airport security for my flight back to Vancouver - apparently it makes them curious if the scanner reveals that the contents of your bags are completely surrounded by symmetrical rectangular packages (and relieved when they see that they're just books).

- Sid

Four Day Geekend: Well, they're not wrong.

It's quite an inspiring slogan, and it speaks to me both from the perspectives of science and science fiction, but I'm a bit puzzled as to why this visionary statement is on the front of a marijuana dispensary on Bloor Street in Toronto that's waiting to open.

- Sid

Four Day Geekend: Bad Manors

For my last night in Toronto, I decided to visit the local branch of the Storm Crow.  Since the opening of its Commercial Drive location in 2012, the Storm Crow geek-and-gamer-bar franchise has been a complete success in Vancouver, with the popular Broadway outlet opening its doors in 2015.  Having had the pleasure of spending time at both those locations, I was eager to complete the hat trick by visiting the Storm Crow Manor on Church Street.

 

Surprisingly, and a bit sadly, I didn't love it.

It’s difficult to say exactly why I was left cold by my experience. On paper, all the same elements were there:  I was seated in their Victorian hunting room, which featured a large bone hatchet right beside me, a large mounted rancor head in front of me and an equally large Beholder head behind, but somehow it still didn't work for me in terms of atmosphere.

 

As its name would indicate, the Toronto venue is a large converted manor house, and they’ve chosen to keep the basic room divisions, which may take away some of the communal feel that I'm used to from the Vancouver locations.  It's certainly busy enough - there's a steady flow of traffic through the foyer, in spite of the fact that it's Sunday night and it's freezing cold outside.

The menu is very similar, with a couple of unexpected differences:  apparently Eastern Canada rates garlic bread, steak, and french onion soup, all of which I think would be welcome in Vancouver (in case anyone from the company is reading this).

My server gave me none of the geek vibe that the Vancouver contingent has, but then neither did the waitress during my first visit to the original Tavern. She also managed to get my order a bit wrong - twice - but that’s a thing that can happen anywhere.

I can’t help but think they could have done more with the blank canvas of this building. Perhaps something that was more ostensibly 19th century in its approach, more Lovecraft than Lucas, more steampunk than science fiction - there are hints of that in the decor where I'm sitting, but really, only hints.

I finished my food, I finished my beer, I settled up my bill, and I left, feeling a bit like I'd wasted my night out, and without even getting a comment on my Doctor Who "The Angels have the phone box" t-shirt.

But, let's be fair - I only saw a bit of the space, and I might have left with a completely different impression if I'd been sitting on the second floor, or in a different room.  I'd like to think that the same sense of geek community that's made the Vancouver Storm Crows so popular is there in Toronto as well, and I just need to come back at the right time to find it there.

- Sid

Four Day Geekend: Hunting for Books, Fit the Second

While I'm visiting Toronto, it seems sensible to take advantage of the opportunity to check around for some of the books flagged for replacement as part of my New Year's resolution to catalogue my library. (Although I can't let myself get too carried away, I only have one piece of carry on luggage and a computer bag.)

The area around the University of Toronto used to be a haven for used book stores, and I'm pleased to discover that part of Toronto has managed to avoid the wave of construction that has rebuilt a lot of the downtown core since the start of the new millennium. 
 
Here's the map for my expedition: starting at College and University*, I'll head west, turn north at about Bathurst, go a bit further west on Bloor, then jump on the subway and go someplace to get warm, it's a cold winter's day and the wind chill factor is taking the temperature down to about -15 C.

The Beguiling

 

My first stop on College isn't actually a used book store as such - I wanted to take a look at The Beguiling Books and Art, which is dedicated to the full range of graphic storytelling. It's been around since 1987, but I'm reasonably certain that this will be the first time that I've ever been through the door, I had a lot of brand loyalty towards The Silver Snail when I lived in Toronto.

The ambient music is some kind of forceful acid jazz as I walk through the door, which gives my visit an unexpected cinematic feel as I make my way around the store.  It's a reasonably large space, split into two storefront areas and directly connected on the west side to Little Island Comics, aimed at comics for kids up to the age of 12.  There's also a basement section dedicated to back issues of comics, which I don't take the time to visit.

Marvel and DC graphic novels are well represented on the shelves, but the balance is more toward independent or non-superhero content, and the Staff Picks/New and Notable displays at the front are completely indie in their offerings.

I'm a little tempted by a collection of H. P. Lovecraft comic adaptations, but it's a big book to haul back to Vancouver with me - see my previous comments regarding luggage -  so I put it back on the shelf and head back out into the cold to start the hunt for books.

She Said Boom!

 

She Said Boom! is what I think of as the template for a used book-and-music store:  narrow storefront space, some original plank flooring, books around the edges, vinyl in the middle.  Like The Beguiling, they're also featuring an aggressive jazz soundtrack - is that the thing for bookstores right now?

It's not a large selection of science fiction and fantasy, just a couple of bookcases,** but I manage to find a couple of things from my replacement shopping list: an excellent trade paperback version of Pat Frank's Alas, Babylon, the first post-apocalyptic novel that I ever read; Nova, by Samuel R. Delaney, and Downbelow Station, by C. J. Cherryh, an excellent space opera which is long overdue for some kind of streaming service adaptation - it's not exactly Game of Thrones in space, but it has a lot of the same intensity.

The woman who is behind the counter vanishes at some point while I'm browsing, and is missing in action for close to ten minutes while I stand patiently at the till.  I fight the urge to take my three books and just leave, that seems like the wrong approach to take, given that she's obviously decided to trust me.

In the fullness of time, she comes back up from the basement and coyly suggests that she needs to dry her hands before dealing with my purchases, which at least indicates that she washed them after whatever activity was taking place down there.  I gingerly accept a bag and a receipt, and I'm off to the next destination on my list.

Balfour Books

 

I can tell that Balfour Books is a classic old-school bookstore just by the distinctive smell of old paper that wafts into my face as I walk through the door.  However, to misquote Obi Wan Kenobi, this is not the book store I'm looking for - in fact, for most of my visit, I'm reasonably certain that they don't actually have any science fiction. 

Eventually I do discover their SF section, cleverly concealed in a wire rack at floor level, and even though Balfour only seems to have about 50 science fiction paperbacks in stock, I don't leave empty handed. They've got a copy of The Deathworms of Kratos, second in the wonderfully bad Expendables series by Richard Avery that I originally received as a Christmas gift in 1979 - it's one of the books from my replacements list that I thought I'd have a lot of trouble locating, so I'm quite happy to have persevered in my search.

While I'm paying for my book, I notice that there's a Buck Rogers pop-up book on display behind the counter.  Given that I own a classic Buck Rogers ray gun, I'm a bit interested, but it's a little too rich for my blood - I tap out well before single book purchases hit the $250 mark.  Perhaps if I win the lottery...but not today.

I trudge away through the cold and snow, up to Bloor Street and Doug Miller Books.

Doug Miller Books

 

Doug Miller Books appears to be one of those bookstores where, like Raven Books near 29 Palms, you get the feeling that it's gotten away from them. The aisles are crammed with boxes that presumably hold books, and there's a second row of books shelved behind the front row - a classic response to limited shelf space, but not one that really lends itself to casual browsing.

As I ponder the selection, I'm surprised by the holes in the science fiction and fantasy section - no Harlan Ellison, no Philip K. Dick, no Ursula K. LeGuin.  Perhaps behind the books I can see?  Deciding that discretion is the better part of valour, I select a Gordon R. Dickson book, Naked to the Stars, and a just barely acceptable copy of Peregrine: Secundus, by Avram Davidson from the books that are actually visible.  (Yes, Peregrine: Primus is on the list as well, but sadly, the copy I bought on Friday didn't survive an attempt to remove the price tag.)

As I head toward what is apparently the only the Lego book store counter in captivity with my meagre selection, I'm surprised to see another bookcase of science fiction paperbacks, not in any particular order (other than perhaps by colour or publisher, it’s that abstract), which, regardless of oddities of cataloguing, features quite a good selection of the books that I'm looking for, and, as per my choice at Balfour, books that I wasn't expecting to find easily.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, I quickly add The Tower of Zanid, by L. Sprague de Camp; Dancers in the Afterglow, an early Jack L. Chalker book; The Regiments of Night, by Brian N. Ball, not one of the better known names in the field, but it's a book that I've always liked; John W. Campbell's The Ultimate Weapon (I'd rather have an earlier printing, but beggars, choosers, etc.); The Thurb Revolution, the final book in the Anthony Villiers series, cleverly written by Alexei Panshin; and an early Neil Jones book, Doomsday on Ajiat, one of the Professor Jameson novels - this last selection isn't on my replacement list, but it's a good addition to the rest of the series that I already have. 

And then, on my way back, I pass BMV Books on Bloor Street - and don't go in. It appears to have a large footprint and lots of stock, I can even see the Graphic Novels table through the window, but this point, I'm looking at about 20 books altogether that I need to cram into my carry-on, and it seems ill-advised to add anything else to that list - not to mention my fervent desire to take a break and warm up.  Regardless, I'm pleased, it's been a much more rewarding day than my last attempt to start updating my library.  Who knows, maybe at some point I'll actually start looking in Vancouver.

- Sid

* I've been away from Toronto for too long, that address sounds like it's made up, like the corner of Yonge and Restless, or Binthere and Dundas.

** I have a really simple yardstick for this - do I own more science fiction and fantasy books than the store has for sale? In this case, I have a huge lead.

Four Day Geekend: Star Trek Lives!

It's Saturday morning, and I'm off to the wilds of Scarborough in order to spend some time with my friend Colin - AKA Cloin, the pretty Campbell brother.*

He picks me up at the subway, I get a tour of the new apartment and a cup of tea (served in a Star Trek mug, which turns out to be exactly on theme), we socialize for a bit, and then we head for the Pickering Flea Market along with his charming partner Jennifer, in bold defiance of the blizzard that is sweeping across the GTA.

The greater part of the Pickering Flea Market doesn't hold a lot of interest for me in terms of actual buying rather than browsing - you have to really want a cheap pet hair vacuum cleaner or affordable broadsword (both of which are available) if you're going to have to fly it across Canada to get it home.  There are other stalls that offer more manageable items, such as wallets and Blu-ray discs, but I'm really just looking rather than looking to buy.

However, one end of the cavernous warehouse space houses the Antiques and Collectibles section, which is of somewhat more interest to me.  The last time we were here, I unexpectedly discovered some vintage 1950s science fiction magazines,  so I'm curious to see what hidden treasures I might find this time.

The selection of items is certainly comprehensive:  furniture, books, albums, hardware, lamps, paintings, prints, photos, wall sconces, statuettes, and anything else that might be of interest to a collector.  (And, of course, miniature bagpipes - this is the kind of thing that you find when you shop with a guy named Campbell.)

However, other than a comic book or two, nothing really catches my eye until we pass down a row of locked glass cabinets, one of which contains a selection of Star Trek convention programmes and souvenir photo books from the 70s.

The eight pieces, covering the years from 1973 to 1976, are affordably (and surprisingly) priced at $5.00 each, so I clean out the shelf. The staff member who unlocked the cabinet cheerfully attempts to upsell me by suggesting a few of the other Star Trek items in the cabinet, but discretion is the better part of valour:  I'm far more likely to get the programmes home in one piece than a boxed Star Trek Fan Kit.

In the fullness of time, after a harrowing drive through the blowing snow and a satisfying Italian dinner, I'm back at the hotel and can take a look at my new acquisitions, which turn out to be a fascinating window into the early years of Star Trek fandom.

Those early fans are a testament to perseverance.  The original series ended in 1969 after only three seasons, and the animated series managed just two seasons and 22 episodes from 1973 to 1974.  This is long before home computers are a factor, let alone the internet, so the fans relied on newsletters, amateur fan-made magazines (aka fanzines), local clubs, and, of course, conventions, in order to maintain the Star Trek connection.

Although these programmes represent the very early days of Star Trek conventions, it's obvious that they're already viewed as significant events, attracting a wide range of guests in addition to those from the show itself.

As an example, the schedule for the first day of the 1976 convention features some heavy hitters from the world of science fiction: authors Hal Clement, Gordon R. Dickson, Ben Bova, and Harry Harrison, along with legendary illustrator Kelly Freas, and Gemini/Apollo astronaut James McDivvit - not to mention "What is Science Fiction?", a seminar featuring Harlan Ellison and science fiction legend Isaac Asimov which I would certainly have paid good money to attend.

In addition to schedules of convention events and so on, the books are predominantly composed of black and white promo photos - again, it's before the internet, so fans looking for pictures from the show would have been very pleased to receive 15 or 20 good quality prints from the show.  (That being said, I envision people taking these programs home after the convention ends and then carefully and thoughtfully cutting them up into individual pages, which, as somewhat of a collector, makes me wince a little.)

The programs also feature a Star Trek parody comic, Star Truckin, which I'm astonished to see was created and drawn in part by Matt Howarth, who went on to a noteworthy career as a prolific and successful underground indie comics creator and illustrator.

It's interesting to note that he's already collaborating with fellow artists Tony Sciarra, Mark Kernes and W. E. Rittenhouse, who would assist in the creation of Changes, Howarth's exceptional graphic novel that was serialized in Heavy Metal magazine in the 1980s - my first introduction to his work.  In fact, the comic in the 1975 program features characters who appear to be the original (if unnamed) versions of Ron and Russ Post, the distinctive primary characters from Changes, who went on to star in their own comic book, Those Annoying Post Brothers.**

All in all, I consider this to be a bit of a score in terms of value for money, although now, I'm wondering how much programs from the very first Star Trek convention in 1972 would cost.  Well, who knows, maybe the next time I'm in Pickering...

- Sid

*With no offense to Ralph, after all, someone had to be the smart one, although to be honest, when you're talking about the Campbell Brothers, the ideas of "pretty" and "smart" are really just relative to each other, rather than any sort of universally held standard for either concept. 

** I realize that most people will read this and shrug, but trust me, from a fan perspective, this is amazing deep dive forensic background stuff.  Interestingly, I can't find anything online that indicates Matt Howarth's age, I was trying to determine how old he would have been when he was doing Star Trek fan comics.

Four Day Geekend: Re-Moving.

If, as per my previous posting, the paperback is in fact dead, I know where it went to die.

After my visit to Bakka, I hopped on the subway and headed over to Pape and Danforth, and Re:Reading*, a used book and DVD store, with the emphasis on books. Re:Reading - which is in desperate need of a new awning - had an impressively wide selection of used science fiction, and to my intense pleasure, I was able to purchase eight of the books from my inventory list that were due to be replaced. 

However, to my equally intense frustration, when I returned to the hotel and attempted to remove their two-layered price tags, I ended up ruining four of the books that I'd bought, as the glue on the stickers peeled up the cover material rather than just peeling off.  Now, just for the record, I've removed a lot of price tags from books over the years, and these particular examples were particularly evil in their persistence and adherence - how can a used book store not be using easily removed price tags, for heaven's sake???

- Sid

 
* We walked past Re:Reading during my last visit to Toronto in 2016 and admired their signage.

  

Four Day Geekend: Memory Lane

 

To start my four-day weekend in Toronto, today I visited two stores that used to be the focal points of my life as a fan:  Silver Snail Comics and Bakka Books, officially Bakka-Phoenix since 2003.

My experience with both stores started when I was still in high school, although, in retrospect, I find myself wondering how I even knew that they existed, in the long-lost dark ages before the internet.  The Toronto Star newspaper, perhaps? Probably some kind of review in the Arts and Entertainment section, I can't imagine that either store actually advertised in the Star.

Regardless, my desire to shop at Bakka and the Silver Snail was the start of a series of semi-annual Saturday bus trips to Toronto in the later years of my high school career - and probably also the start of my interest in travel, at that point in my life visiting Toronto was certainly an adventure, equally intimidating and invigorating.

A round trip bus ticket on the Ontario Northlander was under twenty dollars back then - I looked it up, it's a hundred and eight now - and you had to catch an early bus, 6:00 or 7:00 AM, to get the most out of the day before catching a late afternoon bus back.  Generally I'd start the day with a hundred dollars, and earnestly do my very best to come back with nothing but loose change and a couple of bags filled with comic books and paperbacks.

When I moved to Toronto in the 80s to attend Ryerson Polytechnic, I visited the two stores almost every Saturday or Sunday.  At that point in time, they were conveniently located almost across the street from each other on Queen Street, and it made for a pleasant little ritual on the weekend to take the subway downtown and do a little shopping.

That tradition continued for about twenty years - in case you've ever wondered how my library reached its current size - but finally came to an end when I relocated to Vancouver in 2004.

It saddens me to think of all the pre-internet ephemera from the two stores which has vanished over the years, lost to water damage, spring cleaning, or sheer lack of forethought - the Silver Snail newsletters, the commemorative posters that they used to hand out for free, copies of the Bakka Bookie Sheet with reviews, recommendations and new arrivals, their distinctive bookmarks, and all the other little bits and pieces of promotion and branding.  It's not all gone - I still have most of my celebratory Bakka birthday buttons, although it looks like I've misplaced the B12 button that I think started the run, and my Silver Snail Club button is battered but still with me - but as far as I know, that's all that I still have, unless there's a bookmark or two hidden away in storage.

My hotel is conveniently only a block or so away from the Silver Snail's second-story Yonge Street location, so that's the first destination of the day. 

The Silver Snail has stayed true to its roots over the years.  Although there's a small selection of toys, action figures and statuettes, along with a token gaming section, the Snail is still predominately aimed at the reader and collector, with bins of back issues, a wide selection of new comics, and a full range of graphic novels.   

I'm a bit bemused by the addition of the Black Canary coffee shop to the layout - I've previously encountered a couple of book stores that combined the two, but I do wonder if that space might be better used for retail purposes.  On the other hand, I'm not a coffee drinker, for all I know it's quite popular, although there are only a couple of patrons during my visit to the store. 

 

It's been years since I bought a single-issue comic book (although graphic novels are still part of my Christmas list) but in a fit of nostalgia, I pick out a couple of comics, one new, one used.

My used selection is issue 7 of OMAC, the One Man Army Corps, a character created by Jack Kirby* for DC in 1974 - I find it surprisingly affordable at $6.00.**  (Like so many of the Kirby characters, OMAC has periodically been revived by Kirby fans who went on to work in the comics industry - the black-and-white John Byrne miniseries from 1991 standing out as a particularly well done example, although I'm not as sure about the blue-skinned 2011 version by Keith Giffen.)

 

My new comic of choice is the first issue of an alternative reality comic, Tales From the Dark Multiverse. In its first storyline, it takes a look at what might have happened when villain-turned hero Azrael took over the Dark Knight's mantle after Bane broke the Batman's back in the 1993-1994 Knightfall saga.  Given that I'm unlikely to start buying comic books again, especially with my Marvel Unlimited subscription, it seems prudent to not engage with an ongoing series.  (As a sidebar, both Marvel and DC have produced a wide range of alternate history/timeline/dimension versions of their characters, I suspect that it demonstrates a degree of franchise fatigue on the part of the comic book creative community.  After all, some of the DC characters date back to the 1930s, and most of the Marvel universe has been in existence for close to 60 years, that's a long time to keep tilling the same ground, so to speak.)

From the Snail, I proceed to lunch at the Rivoli, a Queen Street institution since 1982, which is located just one block away from the original locations of both Bakka and the Snail.  I'm a bit saddened to see that the previous Silver Snail location is now just an empty lot, there isn't even a building left.

After lunch - I strongly recommend the Riv's pad thai - I head up Spadina Avenue towards the University of Toronto and nearby Harbord Street, the latest location of Bakka Phoenix Books.

 

Even after a sustained absence, it still feels a bit like coming home to walk into Bakka.  The new books are still racked up to the right of the entrance, they still use little hand-written notes to indicate authors and recommended books, and the selection remains comprehensive and well curated - Bakka has always enjoyed staff members who were both knowledgeable and dedicated in their interest, which is probably why the store's alumni includes so many science fiction authors.

This is my first visit to this location, and I'm pleased by the spacious layout and the general setup of the store.  To an even greater extent than the Silver Snail, Bakka isn't interested in t-shirts or toys or other ancillary merchandise - it's a bookstore, plain and simple.

As I browse the shelves, I'm a bit astonished by the high percentage of trade paperbacks*** - it's like I wasn’t paying attention and the mass market paperback died while I was looking the other way. That being said, they might as well be hardcovers, I was a little offended by the opportunity to replace my battered old first edition of Again, Dangerous Visions with a $19.99 trade version.

I pick out four books (needless to say that three of them are trade editions): Made Things, one of the unpurchased books from my 2019 Geekmas list, by Adrian Tchaikovsky; Wasteland, by W. Scott Poole, a scholarly examination of the origins of modern horror in World War One, which struck me as an intriguing idea; The Long and Short of It, a collection of time travel stories by Jodi Taylor;  and a replacement paperback copy of The Atrocity Archives, the first book in the outstanding Lovecraftian Laundry series by Charles Stross.  I haven't catalogued the S part of my library yet, but I'm reasonably confident that my current copy is more than a bit the worse for wear.  To finish my shopping, I take a fifth book from the SALE table - Wild Fell, a horror novel by Michael Rowe. I'm not a big fan of horror, but I always liked to make a random selection when shopping at Bakka, just to avoid getting stuck in a rut.

Sadly, after I pay for my books, not only do I not receive a bookmark, but my purchases go into a plain blue bag.  Apparently the days of the branded bag and bookmark have come and gone at Bakka Books, along with so many other things from years gone by.

- Sid

* I really have to do a posting on Jack Kirby.

** It turns out to be a bit rumpled, but still in good shape.  But how do you rumple a comic book?

*** In case you don't speak printing, trade paperbacks are paperbacks more or less the size of hardcovers, whereas mass market paperbacks are 4x7 inches, give or take.

Four Day Geekend: Itinerary

 

As I type this, I'm in a departure lounge at YVR, waiting to board a flight for a solo four-day weekend trip to Toronto. In addition to getting together with my friend Colin (aka Cloin – you know, the pretty Campbell Brother) I've also put together a bit of a geek itinerary for my four day trip: a visit to the Yonge Street location of Silver Snail Comics, which apparently now also has a coffee shop; some shopping at Toronto science fiction and fantasy mainstay Bakka-Phoenix Books, currently located on Harbord Street near the University of Toronto; and a comparative dinner (or perhaps lunch) at the Toronto branch of Vancouver's geek and gaming franchise, the Storm Crow Manor on Church north of Wellesley. If time (and weather*) permits, I’ll also be doing a bit of a used bookstore crawl along College and Bloor Streets - after all, I have books to replace.

"Now boarding Zone 1 for Air Canada flight AC120...Zone 1, passengers for Zone 1...."

- Sid

* They're calling for a substantial winter storm on Saturday, which feels a bit unfair given that I just experienced a substantial winter storm in Vancouver.