Apollocon in the rear view mirror

Apollocon has come and gone once again, and I find myself with a cup that runneth over of enthusiasm and inspiration. This is a good thing, and the primary reason I find myself attending conventions these days. Writing is a solo endeavour, and the inherent isolation of the discipline can be wearying. New Braunfels, although being in the general proximity of San Antonio and Austin, is apart enough that I do not have regular writerly contact with other folk (other than online) and breaking this isolation, I have found, is essential to replenish the wellspring of creativity. This is partly in response to the stimulating flow of ideas that abounds, but mostly, I suspect, from my deep shame that everyone else appears far more productive than I.

After having missed last year's edition due to conflicting obligations, it was good to reconnect with the Houston crowd, which differs in subtle ways from the Armadillocon and Aggiecon folks (although there is some natural overlap). For dinner, I tagged along with John DeNardo, Stina Leicht and Lawrence Person to the Cajun Town Cafe for some pretty darn good eats. Food, as everyone knows, is an integral part of the full con-going experience.

I admit to some trepidation in the early going. There were a variety of SNAFUs with scheduling, such that until Thursday night prior to the convention, I was not included on any programming. Fortunately, their crack team of pencillers-in got to work and before long I had a full slate of scheduling on which to hold forth. My contributions to Friday's Cthulhu panel were modest, since I've read only a few Lovecraft stories, but I did manage to enlighten the audience on the existence of Shoggoth On The Roof, which alone is worth the price of admission. Running hard all day, plus my general lack of sleep from the week before, caught up with me and I ended up calling it a night relatively early in the evening. Having only one real room party going on made the decision easier.

Saturday got off to a sluggish start. My energy levels were low and overall I simply felt run down. I gave it the old college try during my three panels, but if I'm being honest, the audience is fortunate there were so many other knowledgeable folks up there on the dias with me, otherwise the discussion would've spiraled downward very quickly.

Once evening rolled around, however, my fatigue seemed to evaporate. I attribute that to the great people around me. I had a fun dinner with Ann VanderMeer, Rocky Kelly and Gabrielle Faust as well as the dinner crew from the night before. Ann and I had some entertaining conversations, but surprisingly never once did The Thackery T. Lambshead Cabinet of Curiosities come up, despite the fact HarperCollins releases it in just a couple of weeks. I've not had the chance to hang out with Gabrielle at a convention before, but she was great fun. And Rocky is always an upbeat and entertaining fellow to have around--I can't imagine a better convention guest.

Somewhere along the line I found a few minutes to talk with Chris Nakashima-Brown about his planned revamp of the No Fear of the Future group blog, and caught up a little with Martha Wells, Bill Crider, Rhonda Eudaly, Alexis Glynn Latner and others, although the fleeting moments went by far too quickly.

That buoyant energy carried over to Sunday, even though there were many excellent room parties Saturday night, and I found excellent conversations at each of them. Interestingly enough, my last panel of the con, Fire off! The Science Fiction/Fantasy Canon, proved to be the most entertaining and engaging of the weekend. With Alexis, Lawrence and Larry Friesen (Bill Crider had to leave early and missed it) we had a grand time pulling up a wide range of yesterday's classic authors and stories to give a sweeping list of worthwhile reading for someone looking to be well-grounded in SF and fantasy literature. Dante's Inferno was one early example, and we touched on a good number of 19th century writers before we even got to Verne and Wells. My contributions included Cilfford Simak, Leigh Brackett, James Tiptree Jr., Peter Beagle, Jack Vance and A.E. van Vogt. Others brought up Stapledon, Blish, Ballard, Dick, Zelazny, Burroughs, Kuttner, Le Guin, Norton and Lafferty, plus all the giants one would expect us to touch on. Interestingly, we often recommended reading works that weren't their best-known or most successful simply because some of those more famous works hadn't aged well. We were all struck silent for a moment when we realized that a significant amount of Greg Egan's work is now more than 20 years old, thus qualifying for "classic" status.

There didn't seem to be quite so many regional writers this year as in the past, but this was more than made up for by the steampunk contingent, a literary-cum-fashion movement that shows no sign of abating any time soon. And that's fine with me, as I find the retro-futuristic style endlessly entertaining. I also learned that, yes indeed, all the other writers and artists participating are far, far more productive than I, and I need to get my lazy butt in gear and stop wasting so much of my limited writing time typing out blog posts about conventions I've attended.

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Off to Apollocon!

I'm packed up, and in a few minutes will be heading out on the three-hour drive to Houston for Apollocon. It's a measure of my dedication to this convention that I will be making the journey sans air conditioning in my vehicle. In an exercise of bad timing, that gets fixed next month. But in the "be thankful for small favors" category, my windows--which had also stopped working--are now fixed. Rest assured, I plan on showering before hitting the con.

For those of you heading to the con and interested in catching me at one of my scheduled panels, here's my schedule:

• Friday
  
  • 9 p.m. Cthulhu 101: Miskatonic University - Linda Donahue, Lawrence Person, Jennifer Ramon, A. Lee Martinez (M), Jayme Blaschke
• Saturday
  
  • 10 a.m. Reboot, Reuse, Recycle: Derly Ramirez, Gabrielle Faust, A. Lee Martinez (M), Jayme Blaschke
    
  • 1 p.m. Writing is a Muscle--It Needs Exercise Too: Linda Donahue, Michael Bracken, Rhonda Eudaly, Jayme Blaschke
    
  • 3 p.m. Reading to Do List: Kathy Thornton (M), Larry Friesen, Marianne Dyson, Cathey Osborne, Jayme Blaschke
• Sunday
  
  • 11 a.m. A Room of One's Own: Michael Bracken (M), CJ Mills, Rhonda Eudaly, Jayme Blaschke
    
  • 1 p.m. Fire off! The Science Fiction/Fantasy Canon: Alexis Glynn Latner, Bill Crider (M), Larry Friesen, Lawrence Person, Jayme Blaschke

A full schedule and panel descriptions may be found at the Apollocon website. See you there!

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Friday Night Videos

I've never been a huge fan of 10,000 Maniacs, although I readily acknowledge Natalie Merchant's talent. Their acoustic version of "Because the Night", with its full orchestration, is sublime. It shows how powerful a rock sound can be without electric guitars and the like. Good stuff.



And for those purists out there who scoff because 10,000 Maniacs aren't Patti Smith, here's the original:



Previously on Friday Night Videos... Pat Benatar.

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The 2011 Griswold Family Vacation pt. 7

When last we saw our family of intrepid vacationers, London Bridge was receding rapidly in the distance, with the grand vistas of Arizona beckoning. You gotta watch out for beckoning vistas. They'll get you every time.

Having lost a good bit of time due to our detour through Joshua tree country, we reluctantly scrapped plans to travel an isolated loop of Route 66 and instead contented ourselves with a brief stop in Seligman, the town that partly served as inspiration for Radiator Springs in the Pixar film Cars. After some ice cream and corny jokes from Juan Delgadillo's Famous Snow Cap Drive-In, we were on our way again, hoping to check-in to our hotel in Flagstaff with enough daylight to spare to make a side trip down to Sedona. As we approached Flagstaff, though, an ominous sign appeared in the skies.

Coconino National Forest was burning. We could see the smoke billowing through the mountains from a hundred miles away. Spotter planes were flying around constantly. That image above? That's taken from the parking lot of our hotel in Flagstaff. The fire was roughly south of us, but we couldn't find out how big it was, how dangerous, or whether the road to Sedona was closed or not. We decided to chance it anyway, and headed out to Sedona.

I have to say, nothing prepared me for the following 45 minutes. The fire turned out to be some distance west, so our route was clear. And spectacular. I've never driven so many switchbacks in my life, and the forest, mixed with mountains, desert and spectacular stone formations was unbelievably gorgeous. We were racing the daylight to reach Sedona, so there was little opportunity for photography. I got the above infrared image when we pulled over so The Wife could take a few landscapes, but I have to admit that infrared doesn't do the area justice. We arrived in time for a magnificent sunset, then had dinner at Burger King and headed back to Flagstaff... in the dark. Not as much fun going up those switchbacks in blackout conditions, I assure you. One thing The Wife and I agreed on is that we really, really like the Flagstaff area, and need to head back to Sedona some day to spend a week or so exploring and shooting the unbelievable scenery. The hippy-dip, New Agey stuff they've got there, not so much.

The next day we were off again, with a jam-packed itinerary that included "Standing on a Corner in Winslow, Arizona" and a detour through Holbrook for our Route 66 fix. We drove through Holbrook gawking at all the fiberglass and plaster dinosaurs at the rock shops. Before we got that far, however, we stopped at a dinky little tourist trap known as Meteor Crater.

The kids quite enjoyed Meteor Crater. It's sheer size impressed them. They liked running through the junk shop, desperately begging us to buy them every piece of over-priced memorabilia they saw (some of which, I have to admit, was pretty cool for over-priced memorabilia). But the big hit with all of them was the computer "Impact simulator" they found in the museum. Essentially, you select the size of space rock you want to hit the Earth with, then select how fast it's traveling, and what angle it hits. They all worked hard to figure out what it took to destroy our planet. Then repeated this destruction many, many times. Ah, science!

Flaming destruction of the Earth paled in comparison to the Wigwam Motel in Holbrook, however. There's supposed to be one of these restored in Wharton, as well, but as I haven't been to Wharton in more than 20 years, this one was quite cool. Parking all the vintage cars along the teepee rooms was a nice touch.

Little did we know that more Route 66 goodness awaited us inside Petrified Forest National Park. After our disastrous experience at the Grand Canyon, and the kids' restlessness during our foray to Sedona, The Wife and I seriously considered skipping the Petrified Forest all together. But we'd skipped it for time constraints on our honeymoon and always regretted that. Plus, the kids insisted they wanted to see it. If we skipped it again, the rest of the day would be one long, tedious push to Roswell, New Mexico, with nothing to break it up. So we said "What the heck?" and made for the Petrified Forest.

Now one thing you don't realize before you go in is that the Petrified Forest also encompasses a good portion of the Painted Desert, which butts right up to I-40 but because of a fluke of the landscape, isn't visible at all from the highway. And the Painted Desert is breathtaking at any time of the day. Sadly, early afternoon with a bright sun blazing down through a cloudless sky is the absolute worst time to try and photograph it. Had we the time to set up for a sunset or sunrise shoot, you would be singing our praises as landscape photographers to rival Ansel Adams. As it is, you just have to take our word for it. But then, right before we crossed over the Interstate, we came upon a relatively new addition to the park: a 1932 Studebaker sedan commemorating the section of Route 66 that once ran through the park. Serendipity is fun, you know?

It didn't take long for the trip through the National Part to revert to form. Being midday, lighting conditions were awful for any landscape photography, although a few closeup shots of petrified wood produced pretty results when clouds passed overhead, such as the shot above. But as soon as the kids realized that the Petrified Forest didn't consist of upright stone trees, they turned surly. They complained when we took a side road to drive through a section of multicolored badlands. The trip through the Jasper Forest and Crystal Forests generated louder and more aggressive rebellion. Things came to a head when we stopped at Newspaper Rock to view the petroglyphs. Monkey Girl and Fairy Girl began to squabble over a mounted set of industrial strength viewing binoculars along the observation railing. Squabbling loudly. Which escalated to screaming and pushing, even after they were warned. Oh, yes, they were warned. Do you have any idea how far shrill girl screams carry across the open desert? Every tourist within 50 miles turned to stare at us then, wondering who could be such awful parents to raise such wretched children. They were banished to the car, in a very arbitrary and unfair way (as they put it) by their parents. Where their argument escalated, if you can believe it, to the point where two Park Rangers stopped their vehicle in the parking lot, got out, and discussed amongst themselves whether they ought to intervene or not. We fled the park, trailing humiliation and shame, stopping only at the southern visitors center long enough to A) use the restrooms and 2) have our kids tell us how terrible we were as parents because we wouldn't buy them any souvenirs. At that point The Wife and I began planning our 2012 vacation without children.

As we drove south along U.S. 180, a particular thundercloud in the distance was showing uncommon persistence. I found this curious, as we'd seen only fleeting cumulus clouds throughout our trip. The weather remained bone-rattlingly dry, yet this cloud actually appeared to be growing. Remember the "That's no moon, it's a space station" moment from Star Wars? We had one of those once we realized it wasn't a rain cloud, but rather a smoke cloud. Remember the day before (scroll up to that first picture in this blog post if you have to) when we couldn't find out any information about the fire in the Coconino National Forest? That's because all the news broadcasts were focused on the Wallow Fire in the Apache National Forest, a monster blaze even back on June 3 which is still going strong even as I type this three weeks later, which has since grown to become the largest forest fire in Arizona history. And we were driving straight into it.

Panic doesn't set in. Rather, there's a growing unease as we check the map and our route. We should be fine. We turn east on U.S. 60 in Springerville. That's 20 miles north of the blaze and takes us into New Mexico. The fire hasn't spread into New Mexico yet. We're good. No problems. Hey, let's pull over and take some shots of this oddball antler tree just to show how relaxed and unworried we really are. Let's double-check that map and make sure that fire's 20 miles to the south. Did you hear they've evacuated the town of Alpine? The roads turning off to the south suddenly start sporting barricades. Rest areas are closed. As we drive through Springerville, there's an eerie calm. Only emergency vehicles are on the streets, with a few long-haul tractor-trailer rigs passing us in the opposite direction. We watch as the smoke cloud overhead blots out the sun. The fire's 20 miles to the south, we repeat. Yeah. We're good.

And then we descend into hell, or at least an apocalyptic wasteland. Ash falls like snow. Everything smells of smoke. And it gets darker. And darker. Outside, it's black as night, only worse. Instead of stars, an angry red glow appears over the ridge to the south. That can't be the fire, can it? Did it jump into New Mexico? Then the glow spreads, first behind us, then to the north. Eventually, we're completely encircles, a glowing ring of fire just behind the next ridge in every direction. It's the sun, we decide. Yeah, that's the ticket. The smoke is diffracting the sunlight to make it look like we're trapped in the middle of a ring of fire. Spooky.

We drive under that cloud for two hours. I now know how the citizens of Minas Tirith felt when Sauron's fell cloud billowed out from Mordor. But as we'd surmised, the evil red glow was a trick of the light, nothing more than nature's smoke and mirrors. We reached the other side of the smoke cloud to find blue sky waiting for us, civilization still intact, Dante's inferno left safely behind. Still, after that experience, Clark W. Griswold can kiss my ass.

A full gallery of road trip photos can be found here.
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 1
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 2
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 3
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 4
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 5
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 6
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 8

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The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 6

Leaving Las Vegas is not as easy as Sheryl Crow makes it sound. Because of a bewildering amount of construction on the south side of Las Vegas and that city's apparent pathological aversion to directional signs, we ended up on I-15 south rather than U.S. 95 south, an error that would've taken us to Barstow for the night, as opposed to Lake Havasu. Fortunately, we were able to hang a left onto 164 to take us back where we needed to be. We made a pit stop in Nipton, Calif., a tiny Mojave town that makes Luckenbach look like a major urban center. It was planted smack-dab in the middle of a desert basin wholly surrounded by mountains, a landscape that looked for all the world like it came straight out of the movie Tremors. Shortly after crossing the border back into Nevada, we met a sign announcing we were now on a scenic Joshua Tree highway. Which was great, except we were an hour behind schedule and as there was a substantial drop-off on either side of the road, pulling over wasn't easily achieved. Near a bridge over a dry wash we did find a shoulder, and got out for some (very) brief shots. My EF 50mm 1.8 lens, which had seized up earlier because of the sandstorm, threatened to begin working again. But it was only a threat. In the end, I managed to get only one shot, the image below, with my EF-S 10-22 lens. Not bad, but I'd hoped for so much more with these fascinating trees.

Amazingly, we made it the rest of the way to Lake Havasu City without any additional adventures. The place has grown dramatically since we last visited 15 years ago. Big box stores, outlets, fast food joints... Whereas London Bridge had been the main draw way back when, today it was relegated to a curious afterthought.

London Bridge (not to be confused with the more visually striking Tower Bridge) was built to span the Thames in 1831. When it came time for replacement, an American businessman bought it and had it shipped stone-by-stone to Lake Havasu, where it was reassembled in 1971 as the central attraction for a resort community. A tourist-friendly "English village" was built up around it with fountains (above) and an array of shops and restaurants.

Nothing lasts forever, though. The English village has definitely gone downhill since last we visited. Lots of vacant retail space was evident. We had lunch at an overpriced hole-in-the-wall pizza joint. Fortunately, the food was pretty darn good. Unfortunately, their vintage 1980s arcade games didn't have vintage 1980s prices.

We looked up the decline of the English village online, and you can probably guess what we found. The owner and the city got into a pissing match. The owner wanted to bulldoze the place and build condos. The city wanted to maintain the tourist destination. So the owner decided to let the place rot until the city gives in to his demands. Sad, but typical.

For every paddle-wheel steamboat like the one above still active in Lake Havasu, there's a closed dinner theatre or pub there on the waterfront. We wandered around in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, and saw several dozen other tourists. Most of them were like us, desperately looking for some kind of entertainment around London Bridge and finding nothing. From what we could tell from the short-term rental advertisements, the Lake Havasu waterfront now caters more to college students looking to drink and party. Because goodness knows college students don't have enough places to drink and party as it is. But hey, at least nobody's lobbying to dismantle London Bridge itself... Yet.

A full gallery of road trip photos can be found here.
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 1
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 2
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 3
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 4
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 5
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 7
The 2011 Griswold Family Adventure pt. 8

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Green Lantern

How do I write about Green Lantern without damning it with faint praise? I went and saw it for Father's Day with Monkey Girl, and we both enjoyed it. Did we love it? No. It's not a great film, but reading comments online, from regular folks and professional reviewers, there seems to be a good bit of gleeful dogpiling going on. To put it in context, I loved Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, which was savaged by critics and ignored by audiences with an indifferent shrug. My all-time favorite movie is The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, which is Terry Gilliam's biggest career bomb. So yeah, I'm probably not a control sample. But I still don't like it anywhere near as much as those.

I'll tell you what I like it better than, though. It's better than both Fantastic Four movies, Daredevil, Batman Returns, Batman Forever, Superman Lives and Watchmen. The thing is, had Green Lantern come out just five years ago, before The Dark Knight raised the stakes and Marvel turned into a cinema factory in overdrive, it would've found the market much more welcoming.

Green Lantern is a conflicted movie. It tries to set itself apart from other comic book adaptations, but constantly references them. There's a brief Superman-themed birthday party for Hal Jordan's nephew, and for Hal's public coming-out as GL, he saves a helicopter from crashing, just like in the original Donner Superman. The big bad is Parallax, a yellow smoke monster that is so evocative of the ill-conceived Galactus revamp from the second Fantastic Four film that the only way viewers don't flash back to that earlier film is if they hadn't seen it.

The movie is paradoxically bloated and too short. Throughout the film, scenes feel truncated and rushed. Motivations and relationships aren't fleshed out. Entire sequences feel missing, as if they'd been left on the cutting room floor for time constraints. By the same token, a significant amount of what appears on screen comes across as pointless, time fillers to get the movie from the point where Hal gains the ring to the big finale when he saves the world. Tim Robbins is miscast as Hector Hammond's smarmy, too-young Senator father, giving the bulbous-brained Hammond generic "daddy issues" straight from central casting. But the real problem isn't Robbins, it's the fact that his character is even in the script. He's Max Schreck from Batman Returns, a pointless character sucking away screen time from the characters the audience actually wants to see. As it is, Hammond is a whiny prick with no plausible motivation who never comes across as a viable threat to Green Lantern despite impressive powers. His unrequited love for Carol Ferris is there only because that's the standard cliche in these kinds of movies. Angela Bassett is miscast as Amanda Waller (should've been Queen Latifah) but it doesn't matter because the character doesn't have anything to do. In just five minutes I've thought up a couple of alternate character arcs for those two that tightens things up and makes them more relevant to the story as a whole, but hey, when you have script-by-committee going, can you expect anything less?

I also was put off by the elevation of Geoff John's more recent GL contributions from the comics becoming elevated to canon status in the film. The whole "emotional specturm lanterns" idea is silly and takes contorted logic to justify (hint: "Willpower" isn't an emotion, folks), but mainly it takes a simple SFnal concept lifted from the Lensmen series and tries to flesh it out with needlessly complicated "midichlorian" explanations. But that's a personal gripe I'm sure nobody in the general theater-going audience will pick up on, much less care about.

The biggest sin of the movie is that it ignores the age-old writer's adage to "show, don't tell" and instead tells. Over and over again, it tells. The intrusive voice-over reminds me of an over-enthusiastic comics fanboy explaining everything about the movie to someone who didn't like it, then telling them how they're wrong. Ugh.

So, what then was good about the film? Quite a bit. Ryan Reynolds really gives it his all in the role of Hal Jordan and has you rooting for him despite some serious asshole behavior and a cringe-worthy "Hero's Journey" checklist he has to run through. It's clear he takes the role seriously as an actor, and commits to it fully. So help me, when he recites the Oath during the climactic battle against Parallax, I got goosebumps. That is Green Lantern. Once the fight leaves Earth, the imagination deserts the filmmakers a bit (who else wanted to see emerald green TIE fighters attack Parallax in the asteroid field?) but I've leveled the same criticism against the comics, so it's a wash there. The important thing is that by the end of the film, Hal Jordan was true to the character.

Blake Lively has taken much flack for her portrayal of Carol Ferris. I've never seen Lively in anything prior to this, and don't know anything about her other than she looks better as a brunette than a blonde. I found absolutely nothing wrong with her performance. Yes, for someone constantly angry at Hal there was more restraint than fire, but that may be as much the director's fault as Lively's. It was a generic, under-written "super-hero's girlfriend" role, but she gave it her all and made several moments her own, her discovery of Hal's secret identity being a particular stand out.

Kilowog and Tomar-Re are very, very charismatic when onscreen. Which is, unfortunately all too brief. Mark Strong is given nothing to do as Sinestro except posture and preen. When Sinestro "turns evil" at the end of the credits, it's utterly pointless and unwarranted, a ham-fisted tease for a sequel that will (in all likelihood) never get made if the anemic box office returns are any indication. Which is a shame, because there's a lot of groundwork laid here for a tremendous Green Lantern movie featuring the Corps and truly epic storytelling.

In the theater, Monkey Girl and I ended up sitting in front of a father and his son, who may have been about 7 years old. The father was a little younger than me, but I couldn't help but notice the audience was filled with men in my general demographic, guys who'd watched Super-Friends growing up and read the four-color adventures of Hal, Guy Gardner, Kilowog, Katma Tui, Arisia, Mogo and (saints preserve us!) G'Nort back in their younger days. This was our movie, and kids these day knew Green Lantern as John Stewart, if that. Yet listening to this little boy was just as entertaining as the movie, if not moreso. He believed. He shouted "Don't do it, Hal!" when Hector Hammond threatened to kill Carol if Green Lantern didn't surrender, "Watch out!" when Parallax threatened to crush Hal under the full weight of his tangible fear. There were no dodgy special effects for this boy, no plot holes, no miscast nitpicks. No, for two hours he was immersed in a universe of wonder, where an incredible array of aliens protect the 3,600 sectors of the universe as the Green Lantern Corps. Afterward, Monkey Girl and I discussed the boy's reactions as we did the movie itself. He made us smile, and ultimately, enjoy the film just a little bit more.

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Friday Night Videos

Today's featured Friday Night Video is "All Fired Up" by Pat Benatar. Because I haven't had enough rocker chicks here lately. This was one of the most popular songs played during Stampede hockey games back in my sportswriter days. I'm serious, they played this one every night. Fortunately, it's a killer song, and generally enough to cleanse my ears of the Spice Girls crap they also played every night. Enjoy.



Previously on Friday Night Videos... Sheena Easton.

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