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Got my copy of Anansi Boys a few hours ago, when it was still September the 28th. i’ve read through the first chapter. although a good deal of it has been up on Neil’s site, and he read quite a bit, as well, to the thrumming, thronging, roaring masses here back in July, reading the complete first chapter is still a very satisfying exercise, and though the content of the first chapter is pretty much what you would have expected if you’d been keeping up with all that at Neil’s site, sightings, signings, etc., it still manages to provide some little precious bits you wouldn’t have gotten from the spoiler stuff. so far, the humor is very dry, very droll, very British, and though it isn’t the laugh out loud funny of, say, Good Omens, and was, quite frankly, funnier when Neil read it out loud, and is really more witty than outright funny when you think about it, it has managed to put a smile on my face.

the limited edition letter that comes with the book is a short note Neil wrote back in July, or shortly after he left, or shortly before the books were published, or at any point in between, reprinted 1000 times, with each print numbered (i got 0044 of 1000) the way proper collectible items that were made to be collectible in the first place should be.

as expected, it doesn’t look like a lot of people actually bothered to do the reservation thing, and now there are signs around Fully Booked attending copies of Anansi Boys saying "This book comes with a limited edition letter from Neil Gaiman" or something similar. of course, it could also be that a lot of people did make reservations, only not a full 1000 of them.

i have seen the sense of delaying the release of the book to allow people to make said reservations (at least you don’t have to go into seek and destroy mode when you get to the bookstore to rifle through all the copies to find the hidden letters, though that would, admittedly, have been fun) if they really, really, really want a copy of the limited ed letter, but it was still frustrating at the time. of course, all that is in the past, now i have the book, and letter, sitting next to me as i type this entry.

the Mirrormask book "for young adults" is also out, and i got a copy of that as well. i had gotten a copy of the screenplay book, but refuse to read it before seeing the movie on account of that being like learning all the secrets to a magic trick before seeing it performed (i’m one of those people who’d rather see the trick first; untainted by knowledge, as it were). the book version (i’m not quite sure it can be considered an illustrated novel), on the other hand, is a whole magic trick in itself, and whether i read it or not before i have a chance to see the movie… well, i’ll have to sit down and think on it.

meantime i’ve got Anansi Boys.

so i’m stepping out of reading limbo now… where i wasn’t really, having settled down on an old, OLD Balantine Books ed of Titus Groan i’d found a couple days ago at a Booksale, and American Gods, Neil’s first full novel — as opposed to his first co-written one (Good Omens), his first one based-on-a-TV-series-he-wrote-himself-anyway (Neverwhere), and his first one "for kids/young adults" (Coraline). which, technically speaking, for me anyway, was still reading limbo since i’d already read them before, and i started them out by way of waiting for my copy of Anansi Boys, though i’d really like to get back to Titus when i’m done. reading it in an edition i haven’t previously seen (totally different print type, with a different sprinkling of Mr Peake’s wonderful illustrations) somehow brings out things i’d either forgotten, or didn’t notice the first time i’d read the book through. and Balantine editions tend to be very portable, in a sturdy pocketbook format (books written in the 60s and 70s appear to have tougher paper than more recent eds, as attested to by some bargain book aquisitions in my library) you don’t feel too guilty about tossing about and keeping stuck in tight corners of you everyday bag, a format you don’t usually see "hard-to-find" literature in these days (they’re usually in large size paperback, somewhere between the pocket and the trade paperback size), so i might actually carry that around when i go out, rather than the hardbound Anansi.

books are wonderful that way. people don’t usually see the sense of buying different editions of the same book, and really, i sometimes don’t have the patience to read the same book over twice myself, regardless of being illustrated, or in large type, or with revisions or being in the author’s preferred edition (so i always try to make sure i’ve got the revised and preferred editions before i read a book… something i was gladly able to do with Titus Alone, but not with Michael Moorcock’s Gloriana), but there really is a point, and it isn’t all just in the bibliomanic’s head.

honest, there is.

it was so much easier, for instance, to read Susanna Clark’s Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrel in the hardbound, black-covered, black-page-edged, with built-in bible-style purple ribbon marker edition, rather than the trade paperback edition i’d previously gotten it in. little obvious things like that really do help, although it’s the little subtler things i was actually talking about.

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some other books i’d started but didn’t finish, while in reading limbo: Iain M. Banks’ Use of Weapons, Michael Moorcock’s Von Beck (The Tale of The Eternal Champion Omnibus editions volume one containing The Warhound and The World’s Pain, The City of the Autumn Stars, and The Pleasure Garden of Felipe Sagittarius), Jefferey Ford’s The Portrait of Mrs Charbuque, and Clark Ashton Smith’s The Emperor of Dreams.

yes, if it isn’t yet obvious, i am a bibliomaniac of the first order. though not really as well-read as you might expect.

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i just remembered i’d meant to do reviews of Brothers Grimm, Red Eye, and some other films when i’d just seen them, and even wanted to write something like Twelve Monkeys Ten Years After Or Twenty Years Before Depending On Your Temporal Point Of View, when i saw it again recently on video cd to feed a smart-sci-fi-flick hunger i’ve been having recently (where have all the good SF films gone?), but sadly the moment has passed and slipped me by, and i don’t think i’ll be doing those for anything less than hard cash anytime soon. hint, hint.

that sounds so shamelessly mercenary. but, well, at some point, somebody’s got to make a living.

which reminds me i do have work to do after all. of the honest-to-goodness "earn your living at your day job" kind. sigh. ta.

i must be one of the laziest bloggers around… it’s been a while, but well… i make no excuses.

a heads-up for any fellow Gaiman-readers out there. Fully Booked has this weird promo thing going on. Anansi Boys has arrived (oh, joy), and they have the books lying around in plain sight, right at the counter and the customer service desk. here’s the thing: 1) you go to one of their stores, 2) walk-up to the counter (cashier’s desk, whatever), 3) RESERVE, i repeat, not purchase, RESERVE one of the copies lying RIGHT NEXT TO WHERE YOU WILL BE STANDING, in all probability lying not A FOOT from your hand, for yourself, 4) shell out the bucks… and 5) come back on the 28th to take it home. you DO NOT get to take the book home right away when you do this.

sheer frustration.

the good news is, you get a limited edition "letter" from Mr Gaiman himself if you do the above.

this letter thing better be worth the wait.

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at some point in the future, i’ll probably put up a page strictly for reviews, but for now, i’ll put whatever i have to say about anything right here, thank you very much.

so…

as expected, the typelists are un-updated (lazy me). i’m currently in reading limbo as i await the chance to get lost in my very own copy of Anansi Boys.

V was a good read, though i found the ending somewhat wanting. it wasn’t wonky or anything, and couldn’t have gone any other way, but well, there you go. i’ve thought about it, and have decided that, well, it’s just one of those things i’ll never be able to explain. chalk it up to personal taste.

V is one of the coolest characters you’re bound to meet in a story of any form. bit of a mix between Batman and Hannibal Lecter, with a decidedly political slant. Machiavelli with a utility belt, perhaps.

on the other foot, i can’t recommend Titus Alone enough. this is the second time i’ve read it, and it was much better the second time around. those who’ve read the "trilogy" seem to think this one the weakest of the three, but i disagree. certainly, the previous books tend to create a set of expectations for the reader, ones that other readers seem to feel aren’t adequately met by the third book. the reason for this, i think, is simple, and does not involve the fact that Mr Peake was suffering from what has been described as a "malignant form of Alzheimer’s" at the time of TA’s writing, as is commonly used as an excuse. on the contrary, i find his writing in the third book every bit as sharp and penetrating and colorful and just plain magnificent as in the previous books (apparently, the man was frighteningly talented). the simple reason imho is that the third book is totally different from the previous two. put it another way, instead of pandering to those expectations set-up by the previous books, TA meets them head-on, and flips them over.

read Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast Trilogy (or Titus Groan books, as others prefer to refer to them). i’ll admit they aren’t for everybody, but they are essential reading for any serious reader. particularly for readers who are also artists. or artists who are also readers. one of these days i’ll write a full review, try to get Mr Peake a wider readership. he certainly deserves it.

the books are, in order: Titus Groan, Gormenghast, and Titus Alone. Overlook Press has an omnibus edition that was available at A Different Bookstore a while back, while Gormenghast and Titus Alone just recently became available at Fully Booked.

i’m constantly baffled by the book-selling practices of bookstores around here. Fully Booked got Gormenghast and Titus Alone, right enough. but why’d they skip the FIRST book? this isn’t the first time i’ve seen this happen, and not just with good ol’ FB.

but on to other things…

saw the english language "remake" of Dark Water a few nights ago. what i find interesting about all these english language remakes is what they say about the psychologies of the east vs. those of the west. westerners insist that when a human crosses over to the other side (i.e., die), they invariably retain those qualities which they held in life. easterners, apparently, tend to think differently. wholly transformed by the circumstances surrounding their demise, people who die in asian horror films (i’m talking here of the likes of Sadako in the Ringu series, the family in Ju-on: The Grudge, and the little girl in the Honogurai mizu no soko kara [the original Dark Water]) are no longer what they were in life: they become the embodiment of whatever force drove them out of this world into the next. they become wholly malevolent spirits that aren’t appeased by petty mortal concepts such as the "satisfaction of revenge". well, to be sure, "revenge" is still acted out, but it’s carried out to an extent that is, shall we say, purer. motivation becomes moot, the act itself becomes its own purpose, and meaning is irrelevant. so Sadako keeps killing people, whether or not she’s recovered from the well, and the curse of Ju-on just keeps going on and on until the malevolence becomes so palpable it must take on tangible form, a flesh-and-blood body (see Ju-on 2)…

for Dark Water, the english version has a cuter, happier ending. for all of the original version’s (Honogurai mizu no soko kara) heartrendingly profound exploration of motherly love, the ending of that version remains ominous. now the thing is, by being darker, that version makes us feel more acutely the depth of the mother’s sacrifice in the end.

but i’m not putting down the Walter Salles version. the director must be applauded for not trying to repeat what the original did. and he succeeded, i think, in translating it to that other psychology i was talking about earlier. certainly, the movie isn’t as scary (though scary enough for some people i know, apparently), some scenes aren’t as interestingly done (mainly the elevator scene where the mother is held back by a ghostly hand, brilliantly done in the original, somewhat more conventionally treated in the new version, though there are other scenes as well), and the climax isn’t as dramatic (the new version ends earlier in the story, i would surmise because it was more "logical" to end it there rather than drag it on). nonetheless, the essence of the story remains, and the movie is smartly done, with classy visuals and top-notch performances.

do i recommend watching Dark Water? sure, but keep in mind that the original had always been about 40-70 horror and psychological drama (yes, i know that doesn’t add-up to a hundred, but there’s an overlap), and this version brings the ratio down to, oh, i’d say 20-90, maybe even lower.

so if you’re out for pure thrills and chills and, er, gore, this isn’t the movie for you. but if you’re into the sort of wussy chicken-out, oh-but-this-movie-has-something-uplifting-to-say-about-people in the way of, say, The Sixth Sense, then i’d say this movie’s right up your alley.

not withstanding that last comment ("wussy" or not, it still scares some people), i do like this movie, and do recommend it. i just recommend the original harder-horror version more.

and yes, i think the eastern way of thinking makes more sense.

on a final note (possible spoiler alert), Dark Water reminds me of Neil Gaiman’s Coraline, only with an "other daughter" instead of the "other mother".

well, that was the longest post i’ve made yet. i’ve blabbered on more than usual and it’s about time i shut-up. good night.

well, i’ve finally managed to put up some changes i’ve been meaning to make on the blog. as if it weren’t obvious enough, i’ve created a couple lists on the assumption that someone actually gives a rat’s hairy arse what i’m reading and listening to at the moment.

i’m about as likely to update those lists regularly as i am to shove a bottle rocket up my bum and dance the hoolah, but there you are. we do what we do; whether with rhyme or with reason, who can tell? or something like that.

more likely, i’ll just mention anything cool i come across, what i’m reading, etc., on a post. it’s just so much easier that way. so expect to see "V for Vendetta" on that list long after the movie’s come out and i’ve tucked my recently acquired collected paperback ed. away.

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on the off-chance that someone who’s read my earlier posts actually thinks the City i live in spends the entire day painted like halloween (on the off-chance, of course, that someone’s actually read them), there IS a point when everything changes color. the streetlights go out, and the sun isn’t orange all day, and the clouds do create variable atmospheric effects.

at the moment, for instance, with the streetlights out and the sun level with a uniform blanket of filmy cloud, everything outside is the color a television set casts on a dark, otherwise lightless room, as though some couch potato of deific proportions is either an earlier riser and has tuned in to some morning show, or left the telly on last night when he dropped into slumberland, somewhere on a titanic sofa beyond the far horizon.

the smell, on the other hand, is the same cool, refreshing, bus-stationy smell i’ve encountered in just about every city i’ve been in, usually in the mornings.

the dawn color scheme of the City persists: a heavy cloud, like an enormous sea creature of mist and foam, hangs, no, looms over the City, burning its customary bruise-orange, a deep gash of blue in its side, having just bled a torrent into the streets…

i wasn’t going to post today but i just had my surreal moment for the day:

i was out on the balcony, contemplating the menace of the aforementioned cloud, and how all decent Bloggers worth their salt around the world at this time seem obligated by Law to say something about the menace of Katrina and call for aid in dark times by posting links

(http://operationusa.org/

http://www.nielsenhayden.com/makinglight/

http://store.yahoo.com/redcross-donate2/

http://www.texarkanahumanesociety.com/

http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?chanID=sa006&articleID=00060286-CB58-1315-8B5883414B7F0000&pageNumber=1&catID=2)

and how, surely, that doesn’t include me, the opening lyrics of Steve Vai’s "Building A Church" running through my head

     "I stared into a mirror for three days, didn’t eat or sleep/Just to see if I can see something down underneath",

when, lo, what looked like a Buddhist monk, all naked clean-shaven head and swaddling orange robe, rode by on one of those motorcycles converted to a passenger tricycle with a makeshift steel-and-lead-pipe frame, a fellow with a bushy black hairdo (possibly to contrast the monk’s gleaming scalp) sitting on said frame at the monk’s side like a superhero sidekick in casual white tee and shorts.

my head is just exploding with philosophy at the moment.

Neil is the coolest living writer around, has the coolest life, with the coolest cats (including Freddy the Unlucky Cat), the coolest cars (a couple black minis, one of which has an engine block a few rats have called home, or, at least, Italian Restaurant), and the coolest little daughter (Miss Madeline), who gets the coolest birthdays

(see Link: Neil Gaiman.)

Someday, his life will be mine. All mine (Cue thunder, flashbulbs and ominous, mad, mad laughter).

Loath that he should read any of this before these plots, plans and schemes reach fruition.

You won’t tell will you? i’d have to kill you.

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he may also have the coolest movie, except it’s really Dave McKean’s (who is utterly cool in his own right). if you’ll be in that strange western country in late September or October (say, for instance, you live there), check it out.

http://www.sonypictures.com/movies/mirrormask/theaters/

if you get the chance to, you will have my eternal envy and enmity. watch your back.