Kevin's lunchtime reading

Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Issue 14.

A better issue this time round [entry]. Several stories that I liked and the only ones I really had any issue with were The Munchausen Papers by Stuart Barrow and Mark Bruckard. These were a series of little letters and other correspondences, no longer than a page, that were scattered between the real stories. These annoyed me, and I fail to see how Barrow and Bruckard managed to sell them. Greatly directionless pieces, none of them seem to have any purpose and the pay-off at the end of each was totally absent. I'm sure they were supposed to be amusing; they just weren't.

Scales of Justice by Susie Hawes is a nice little story, which raised a few smiles. Body and Soul Art by Eugie Foster, is a much darker animal, dealing with tattooing and body art. It takes an interesting track, and ends well.

The Water Cure by Liz Wililams hasn't really stuck with me. I remember what it was about, but can't remember having strong feelings one way or the other after reading it.

Hitler's Ghost Possessed my Cat by Ben Cook, Counter Clock by Patrick Mullarkey, and Lost Property by Bren MacDibble were amusing, and I enjoyed reading all of them. I did find the writing to be occassionally clumsy in HGPmC, but the story was good.

The closing story, The Sleeper by Mark Healy, was also good. The relationship between the main characters was well drawn and the ending was quite good.

Later . . .

Kevin's geas

The Battle of Evernight (The Bitterbynde, 3) by Cecilia Dart-Thornton

TBoE is a brilliant, and almost completely satisfying conclusion to the Bitterbynde. Things take unexpected turn after unexpected turn, as Ashalind (and it's by this name she's mostly known for this book) goes in search of the gate, but has to abandon her quest in order to attempt a rescue of her friends.

The writing is beautiful as ever, and we are introduced to even more varied and equally vivid areas of Erith. The world is as deeply imagined as we've come to expect.

I say 'almost completely satisfying' because for the first time so far, CD-T's need to describe everything begins to get heavy. It's only really noticeable towards the end, which could easily be fifty pages shorter. The story's already venturing into the denouement section and you realise that there is still another sixty-seventy pages to go. I don't need to read lists of food, or recounting of events with no obvious bearing on the plot, just tell me what happened before I get bored.

#

One other point, before I go: in the American paperback printing of this book there is an afterward by the author. Don't read it! It is patronising and completely unnecessary, and left me shaking my head and wondering why on earth CD-T needed to put it in.

Home

Words yesterday: 1126
Words total: 57425
Scenes yesterday: 1
Scenes total: 44

Yeah, I thought it was about time I started working on this again, and I couldn't get on the internet because Monday seems to be the day everyone talks on the phone to the people back home. Words came fairly easily though considering it's been like three months off.

Later . . .

Slap her she's a lycanthrope

Dog Soldiers

A surprisingly good werewolf movie, and made all the better so because it's British. It's a simple idea, squaddies on a training exercise in the remote highlands get attacked by werewolves, but it's nicely handled all the same.

The acting is strong, and you believe a real sense of comraderie between the squaddies. The two main leads deliver strong performances. The development of character is done well and without too much patronisation.

The werewolves stay in the dark for much of the film, hunched figures with canine faces darting about the woods surrounding the farmhouse. Obviously, British Film = British Special Effects Budget, but they use what they have well, and the werewolves never come across as Man-At-Hallowe'en-Party (like Oz in Buffy the Vampire Slayer). They can't do a lot with the wolf-faces, but what they can do looks fairly impressive. It's down to claws and furry hands and yellow contact lenses and, yes, even a classic Man-Falls-Behind-Furniture-In-Pain-Comes-Back-Up-As-A-Werewolf scene[1].

There were moments of levity amongst the horror, and most of it worked well. Occassionally something slipped through that you felt was supposed to be a serious attempt at fear or drama but they were few and far between.

I was disappointed with the arrival of the attractive female lead. On reading a brief synopsis of the film I had thought that for once they'd be able to avoid the trap of having a female character just to attract a female audience. I mean, it's a group of soldiers on exercise in the fricking highlands! 50miles from the nearest 'population centre'. There's just no reason for an attractive young woman to be there, other than a). potential love interest, b). to gradually strip off layers of clothing as the action hots up, or c). both. If they had to have a female character, why couldn't it be your typical highlander woman (ie. wilder than the werewolves and twice as hairy)?

I did have an issue with the plotting towards the end as well, but as that's spoiler material I won't go into it any further.

#

[1] Which is always, in my opinion, more scary than actually watching them change. Impressive as the standard of modern CGI is, it's hard to watch a face morph from man to wolf without laughing. When they fall behind the furniture, trailing one clawed and increasingly hairy hand, there's always that moment of doubt. They might have just died. You don't know just what they're going to look like when they come back (even if you've seen the werewolves already by this point). Yes, it's a cheaper way of film-making, but cheap doesn't always mean nasty.

Kevin's failure

I ran the Balderdash [entry] in 7:02 today. Added 15s to last year's time (and my personal best). Not overly happy with my performance.

The only consolation is that nearly every body ran a slower time than they ran last year. Shameful added 30s and Lou added 15. The Girl I See on the Stairs ran it in 8:37.

The team came third out of ten. A marked improvement on last year's ninth.

Kevin's 'third time's the charm'

Passed my driving test today.

Ahwoohoo!

Wasn't very confident when I got up. I had a couple of near disastrous lessons towards the end of last week and they left me feeling that the examiner would be in hysterics at the standard of my driving. Merv (my instructor) took me for a lesson shortly before the test and it was such a good drive that I got my confidence right back.

I picked up 10 minor faults. Ask me if I care. Go on, ask me.

In other news, I now plan on spending the next month teasing The Girl I See on the Stairs, because I passed it in at least seven fewer attempts than her :)

Later . . .

Kevin's sense of shame

The hunting with dogs bill was voted in by the commons last night, but thanks to a few idiots the real issue has been overshadowed. Eight protesters storm the commons, and everyone talks about tightening security at parliament and that recent news staple, terrorism. A minority of protesters scuffle with the police outside, and our impartial media are talking about an invasion of thugs.

The real issue: This stopped being about animal welfare a long, long time ago. It's politics and votes. Deciding rural policy and bills that will affect the livelihood of people in rural communities based on the beliefs of people in urban areas is insane. The threatened use of the Parliament Act to force this through quickly makes a mockery of the fact that they've appended to the bill an eighteen month adjustment period. Not to mention that it makes a mockery of the whole democratic process.

'I know we said we'd debate it, so we're giving you one day and then we're voting. If the lords try to stop it or contest it any way, then we'll just push it right past them with this act designed for introducing emergency legislation.'

Kinda makes me ashamed of this country.

#

We're told that the last time parliament was invaded in such a way was during the reign of Charles the 1st. This is the first time a CA-organised protest has been marred with violence. It's something to think about. People are angry, and getting angrier. And there are a lot of us.

I do wonder where it's going to end. How long before someone in London decides that shooting is cruel and calls for a ban? Or fishing? How long do we have left? I fear that we've started on a slippery slope and this vote is just the beginning.

Later . . .

Kevin's mile

It's September, and the Balderdash approaches once more. The 'dash is a four by one mile relay race around the grounds at 'alcrow. Last year my time on the course was 6:47. I'm confident that I can beat that time this year. I want to take at least fifteen seconds off.

White Van John's not running this year, but Lou, Shameful, and The Girl I See on the Stairs are. If I can beat any of them it'll be a bonus.

Later . . .

Kevin's second attempt

Just sent Tymmy back out [entry]. Further note on the comments from the last editor: it's surprisingly difficult to locate YA markets that don't actually require you to be a YA. I'm still looking, so until then I thought I'd send it on to someone else who might like it.

Later . . .

Kevin's desecration

The Illearth War (The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever, 2) by Stephen Donaldson

T.I.W. drags Thomas Covenant (quite reluctantly) back into the Land for another dance with the Despiser. Whilst only a couple of weeks has passed for Covenant, forty years have passed for the people of the Land. Lord Foul is ammassing his armies, the giants have gone quiet, and the people are struggling to master Kevin's Lore.

The stage is set to repeat the events of Lord Foul's Bane, but it's so much more this time, and it's for this reason that the second book of the trilogy is better than the first. For a start, whilst Covenant is still self-serving and wanting only to get out of his delusion and back to his real life, you care about him now (Donaldson made sure of that by the end of L.F's.B.). Sure, his constant refusal to use the wild magic, his refusal to take his share of the responsibility is still irritating at times, but you understand his reasons, and desperately want him to find some other way out of his predicament.

Also, the addition of another character from our own world complicates things even further. You question the reality of Covenant's delusion (as does he). Hile Troy's embracing of the Land, and his willingness to get involved, counterpoints Covenant brilliantly.

As before, the book is strongly written, and the descriptions of the land are beautiful and so real it becomes one of the finest realised landscapes in fantasy fiction.

There are a couple of points I had issue with: Covenant's relationship with one of the characters (I won't say which one so as not to introduce spoilers), and the fact that when the climax comes it is over so fast compared to the rest of the book you feel like you've missed a few pages. But, nothing major. Overall, the quality of this piece is almost enough to raise this series into one of my all time favourites. I only hope that The Power That Preserves, when I get around to reading it, can deliver a satisfying conclusion to the story.

Later . . .

Slap her she's Sandra Bullock

--I personally feel it is unethical for one person to acquire that much wealth, how do you sleep at night?
--Well I have a machine that simulates the sound of the ocean.

Two Weeks Notice

One of the things you notice when you live with a couple is that you do watch a lot more fluffy romcoms.

Not that I mind them of course, I mean, Sandra Bullock's reasonably attractive, and I've never really had any issue with Hugh Grant. A lot of people don't like him, but I've always found him to play his roles relatively well, never really outstanding, but likeable enough.

It's nothing that's going to stand out in your memory for too long, but it had the odd moment of humour, and the very last scene was a nice touch.

Later . . .

Kevin's chicken tikka balti

Went with a few guys from work to Spicy Bites, Swin's newest addition to the curry metre in Old Town.

The place hasn't been open very long, and their struggle to claim a corner of the market as their own is evident. White Van John and I were the first to arrive, and we looked through the menu in the window, trying to discern whether they had a drinks license yet. Within seconds, a waiter -- the only waiter -- was at the door, offering 'a free glass of wine to new customers'. At the end of the meal -- much of which was spent as the only customers -- we paid the bill and were told that everyone could have a free drink on the house.

They obviously weren't in a hurry to get the table cleared and reset.

Outside, John comments that he thought the place was a tanning salon on first look. And I can kinda see what he's talking about. It's lacking all of the traditional finery you associate with Indian restaurants. This is what 'contemporary indian cuisine' looks like.

Inside it feels like we've gone to Ikea for a curry. The fact that the small room is empty doesn't help matters. 'These are our new range of dining-room tables and chairs . . . wait a minute, what are those people doing? Is that naan bread?' We're handed square plates and the curry and rice comes served in square ceramic dishes. The side plates look ashtrays, the ashtrays look like ramekins. The walls are orange, and the latest in low hanging steel light fittings dangle from the ceiling. The floors are wooden. It all looks very nice, it just doesn't feel like an Indian restaurant.

The food is good, and those little square dishes hold a surprising amount of it. The staff are friendly, and although it seemed to take an age for them to get our drink order together (at one point we speculated whether or not they were sending someone down the road to Wrongs with a drinks tray and £20), the lack of custom meant we were well looked after.

I'd have debated going there again, but the free drinks at the end of the night swung the vote for me.

#

We headed on down to Wrongs (a bar in Old Town) ourselves later in the evening. The drink tasted suspiciously familiar.

Unfortunately no one was up for staying out late. Half of the party was driving (including the girl who's leaving do it was), and one of the rest of us had a bit of a dicky tummy.

I was back home again by 2130hrs, but it was a good evening.

Later . . .

Kevin's rejection

Nolove from Tymmy [entry], although she did say that it was 'a nice story', which is a plus. Nice turnaround time as well.

She also suggested that the story might do better in a YA or children's market, which was a surprise. Worth thinking about next time I browse the markets.

Later . . .

Kevin's feeling better

Much better.

Later . . .

Kevin's fun with titles

Slap Her, She's French

I'm curious about the title of this film -- At no point does anyone in the film want to, advocate or even think about slapping Giselle solely on the basis of her nationality. Sure, the main-character wants to slap her because she's a bitch, because she comes in and steals her life, but not because she's French. The French thing's almost an irrelevant point. It's like saying slap her, she's got brown hair.

What has that got to do with anything?

The Girl I See on the Stairs comments that the film was made when anti-French feelings were running high in America, and she could well be right. Aside from the title, the film is patronising and dumb and unbalanced. The French are evil, scheming and untrustworthy. The slight twist to the film's ending wasn't surprising, and left me confused to exactly what they were trying to accomplish here. So what are you trying to say? Actually Americans are evil, scheming and untrustworthy, but that French people still suck?

All in all it's such a fine example of international relationship building, I'm tempted to take back all the nasty things I said about Eurotrip.

There are a few good moments -- the 'beef pageant', the French revision tape, and Giselle's final bit of scheming spring to mind -- but much of the film was so bad it was spent trying to come up with witty alternative endings to the film's title.

Mothgut

I put the dictionary back on my desk. It was the first thing that had come to hand that was big enough and that I didn't mind splattering bug guts all over. I sat on my bed and watched. Naked, I felt a chill from the draught, so I pulled the window to. I would probably have to open it again later.

'I want it to be known,' I said to the quivering and pathetically fluttering remains of the moth on my bedroom floor, 'that it is death to come in here. I want you buggers to fear that light.'

I sighed. 'I want young moths to gather outside and tell stories of this place. I want them to whisper about the monster that lives within, swatting and crushing and killing. I want you all to know that if you come in here, you will die. Do you understand me?'

'I can't help you,' the moth said. 'Moths can't talk.' And then it died.

I went to the light and turned it off. I could tidy the mess tomorrow; one dead moth wasn't going to disrupt my sleep any. It was the live ones that irritated me.

I went to sleep listening to the sound of them tapping at my window.

Kevin's complete lack of surprise

Calamity James strikes again . . .

Later . . .

Kevin's degree

. . . or, "why in the Hell did I do engineering when I left school?"

Kevin's submissions

Tymmy and The Well have gone back out [entry].

This is the 10th time that The Well has gone out. Admittedly, not all of the rejections were this-story-sucks, but I'm beginning to feel the story should be put to stud.

Later . . .