SPORT/CULTURE: ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE OLYMPIC OPENING CEREMONY, LONDON 2012

Five days later and I see no reason to change my opinions as expressed in the previous. What I have had time to see is a load of bollocks about it coming from the political right. It started with that already disgraced moronic Conservative MP (whose name I can't be bothered to look up) stating that the Opening was more left wing than that of Communist China's four years ago. There have been other comments from the right about the leftyness of it all as evidenced by including a paean of praise to the National Health Service and the inclusion of Liberty director Shami Chakrabarti as one of those carrying the Olympic flag. The Industrial Revolution section was clearly on the side of the workers against the oppressive capitalists. And what about all those trouble-making suffragetes?

You know something? These right-wingers actually have a valid point. It's a stupid and obnoxious valid point but still a valid one. Clearly, left-wing views did underpin some of the elements and it was perfectly valid to express them.

Before I get on to that, I'll mention one thing that I did find a little jarring. It's the multi-racial makeup of the bucolic country scenes and the Industrial Revolution sequence. While there have always been people from different ethnic groups living in this country, their numbers were tiny until the immigrations of the late 1940's onwards. To include so many in those sequences is simply factually wrong. On the other hand, if you regard it as symbolic of how England has been accepting of immigrants then on that level it's correct.

Moving on, the argument about the Industrial Revolution is simply wrong because the new capitalists did exploit the workers and the working conditions were horrendous. It was the price that was paid to transform Britain into the most powerful nation in the world.

Criticising the tribute to the NHS just shows the true colours of the critics. The NHS is the greatest gift the post-war Labour government gave to this country. It meant that every citizen, no matter how rich or how poor, had the right to health care. The value and importance of this to the country is impossible to exaggerate.

The reason why these right wing critics are wrong is because the social history of the last two hundred years is the story of the rise of the proletariat, of the breaking down of class, economic, social, racial, and sexual barriers. All that Danny Boyle has done is to accurately reflect this, portraying it as a good thing, in a highly entertaining show.

I think that just about covers it. Ah, don't go away. Some of them were also frothing at the mouth about Shami Chakrabarti. Let's see who she is.

Taken from Liberty's website-

-a Barrister by background, she was called to the Bar in 1994 and worked as a lawyer in the Home Office from 1996 until 2001 for Governments of both persuasions.

Since becoming Liberty’s Director she has written, spoken and broadcast widely on the importance of the post-WW2 human rights framework as an essential component of democratic society.

She is Chancellor of Oxford Brookes University, a Governor of the British Film Institute, and a Visiting Fellow of Nuffield College, Oxford in addition to being a Master of the Bench of Middle Temple. She was recently invited to be one of 6 independent assessors advising Lord Justice Leveson in his Public Inquiry into the Culture, Practice and Ethics of the UK Press.

Now I get it. She's the director (not founder as was incorrectly broadcast at the time) of a highly acclaimed civil rights group which aims to protect freedom in a democratic society. The cow!

So there you have it -Danny Boyle's left wing propaganda disguised as an Olympic Opening

ceremony. Socialised medicine! Multi-racial Britain! Civil liberties! The rise of the unwashed masses!

Now just ask yourself: what sort of person objects to that? And remember your answer the next time you vote in an election.

Meanwhile, Danny Boyle, top bloke.

SPORT: THE OLYMPIC OPENING CEREMONY 2012: GLORIOUS MADNESS

It's my birthday on August 1st and I'll be 64 years old. It only just occurred to me a few days ago that I was born during the London Olympics of 1948. Probably because I have little interest in sport and even less in watching it. I'm not against sport; it's really a good idea; it's just that watching it bores me. But if I think that sport itself is a really good idea, I think the idea behind the Olympics is a brilliant one.

It's a celebration of hard work and excellence, of national and personal pride, of coming together. It's a joyous event and I'm happy for the happiness it brings to those who take part as athletes, those who work behind the scenes and those who watch it even if I won't be watching any of it. Apart from the opening ceremony last night, that is.

And I watched all of it from the first minute to the last because it's Britain's Olympics and I'm proud to be British. I'm even prouder after Danny Boyle's celebration of British culture and history. The imaginary rural idyll transformed in moments into the fire and smokestacks of the Industrial Revolution with its dirt-covered workers and top-hat wearing capitalists and Kenneth Branagh as the iconic figure of Victorian industrialist and engineer par excellence Isambard Kingdom Brunel quoting Shakespeare, and the pounding drums of Evelyn Glennie, of children's dark fantasies (with Joanne Rowling reading from Peter Pan) brought to life in a dancing celebration of the NHS while Mike Oldfield and band played Tubular Bells.

And then the dancing and the music. Hot young singer Emelie Sande singing beautifully in front of a riveting piece of modern dance. A history of British pop music with a kaleidoscope of images, dancers revealing an array of racial origins, clad in wonderful colourful costumes and, somehow, blended in a modern romance conducted by tweeting on mobile phones building to a reveal of the man who made the world wide web possible -Tim Berners Lee.

The Queen teamed up with James Bond. Smart suited David Beckham, (not someone I normally have time for) displaying great dignity and composure while piloting a motor launch with the torch and its female bearer at the prow. Mr Bean destroyed Simon Rattel conducting the theme from Chariots of Fire.

The seemingly endless procession of the athletes was made bearable by their sheer delight and joy at being there.

Then the lighting of the Olympic torch which turned out to be nothing like anyone expected. Seven young British Olympians each touched alight seven of the urns, one carried earlier by each team, which exploded to light them all. And then all 205 were raised into the air to create one majestic torch which was itself a symbol of what the Olympics is all about. Breathtaking.

Glorious madness. A wonderful blend of creativity and technical achievement that deserves a book to be written about it. Also, if they've got any sense, a DVD of the ceremony should be issued. Danny Boyle (along with thousands of people) has created something genuinely unique, genuinely marvellous, packed full of wonders and joy. (Pity about Paul McCartney singing that vastly overrated song Hey Jude but, hey, nothing is perfect except a kitten).

Transcendent.

BOOK REVIEW: THE HOLY MACHINE by CHRIS BECKETT (2004)

Science Fiction used to be pretty much the centre of my life from about the age of 20, when I first found out how to get American imported paperbacks, up to about 35. Mind you, I can't ever remember not loving SF even before that, ever since I realised what it was. I just could not get enough of the stuff and built up a pretty enormous collection. I was also very active in SF fandom, publishing my own fanzines and writing for others. In my thirties I became obsessed with writing the stuff, well, and just writing novels per se. 

But eventually I moved on with crime becoming my favourite genre fiction. I never completely lost my ties with fandom, though any connection with it these days is quite tenuous and thread-thin. Writing fiction became an occasional dabble in which I currently seem to have no interest at all, with blogging fulfilling my need to communicate and write and the main focus of my attention can be found in my other blog.

But I could never give up on SF even though I rarely read it any more and am often disappointed with what I do read. Still I keep trying the odd book from time to time like the one I'm reviewing here. This came to my attention as one recommended by Amazon following a spate of buying some Urban Fantasy books (which I keep intending to review en bloc). Don't know what it's got to with that genre but it nevertheless intrigued me and I finished reading it a couple of hours ago and, yes, the comment from an Interzone reviewer on the cover about is quite correct.

When I first started reading it I wasn't sure at all because the background scenario has to be my worst nightmare. In a reaction to secularism and science, there is a worldwide mass uprising of fundamentalism from all religions and sects (though Judaism and Buddhism aren't mentioned) sending the world back into a modern version of the Dark Ages. To counter this, Illyria, a high-tech country, is created in a region of the Adriatic which is where George our protagonist lives.

George isn't the usual SF hero, being diffident, despite being in his 20's he's never been kissed, and has a mother who prefers to spend her time in cyberspace. But, just as I briefly outlined about my life, things change. He falls in love with a human-like sex robot in whom he senses an emerging awareness not related to her programming. When the increasingly fascist government decides to wipe the minds of robots every six months, George goes on the run with her through bordering religious states which, incidentally, hate robots even more than they hate unbelievers.

This is an absolutely fascinating novel which looks at the nature of consciousness and simultaneously both the need for a belief in religion, in something transcendent (which might also be consciousness) and how (to many cheers from me) bloody fucking imbecilic and irrational religions are. It's thoughtful and clearly written which engages the reader, despite George being very much an outsider, though his life and his perceptions of the world undergo a profound change during the course of the novel.

In short, I absolutely loved this book which reminded me why I loved SF -its alternative pluralistic views of society (as well as unfettered imagination)- in the first place. As far as I can tell, it didn't win any awards which is a shame. Anyway, I've just ordered Beckett's other two novels and added his short story collection to my wish list.

This is the book that you give to people who think they don't like SF. It has a heart and a brain.

GRAPHIC NOVEL REVIEW: CREEPY PRESENTS RICHARD CORBEN

This review (minus illustrations) will be submitted to Amazon shortly.

As you can tell from the book's subtitle this isn't a graphic novel but a collection of short graphic stories from two 'adult' and primarily b/w horror magazines (not comics) mostly in the 70's and a big fat collection it is too.

Corben really came to fame with his adult fantasy series Neverwhere (aka Den) which started in the French magazine Metal Hurlant (later US edition, Heavy Metal). A puny human was transported into a magical world and into the body of hairless, mostly naked,  (censored censored) muscleman and hero Den. Den fights lots of vile monsters, evil sorcerors, beautiful evil naked women with (censored censored) who wanted to (censored censored censored) and then kill him, rescues beautiful naked heroines with (censored censored) and has (censored censored censored) and adventures. Definitely adult fantasy.

If you're easily offended by (censored censored) don't look at the image below. The one after is more acceptable.

But back to the book in hand.

The short story is a form that's fallen out of favour in comics since the rise of the extended multi-issue narrative begun primarily by Stan Lee at Marvel back in the 60's. It isn't surprising as, in comics and particularly horror comics, the story is usually very simplistic and dependent on a gimmick or money shot shock end (the legendary EC is excepted from the simplistic tag but only just). It's simply very difficult indeed to create something worthwhile in standalone short form graphic narrative. The form has only begun to gain respectability due to independent creators like the Hernandez Brothers who sometimes use it for a different and more serious purpose.

To be honest, the Warren magazines weren't always notably better than their antecedents, though the art was a vast improvement (again EC mostly excepted) from the horror comics of the 50's. Now, in their heyday of the 70's, Creepy and Eerie had people like Jeff Jones, Berni Wrightson (the subject of his own Creepy collection and reviewed elsewhere), a variety of talented (but cheap) Philippino artists (Alcala, Maroto, etc), and, of course, Richard Corben who was present throughout that period. The art is usually way better and more sophisticated than the stories they illustrate though that doesn't mean the stories are lacking in interest. But basically you'd best be here for the art rather than the narrative, though there are gems like his adaptation of Poe's The Raven.

The stories are presented in chronological order of appearance (which isn't always the order in which they were drawn) so you can see the development of Corben over a decade. There's a wide range of genres and subgenres: horror, SF, crime, serial killer, ghost, fantasy, monster, humour, satire, etc and all are short enough so that you never get bored. A substantial minority are in colour and coloured by Corben himself who was an innovator in its use. At over 340 pages (including covers and sketches) it can justifiably call itself a definitive collection. Publisher Dark Horse could easily have split it into two volumes and it's to their credit that they didn't. Plus there is a very good introduction by Jose Villarrubia.

For what it is, this is a truly excellent collection and fans of the artist will be ecstatic when they see it. Now if only someone would repackage Corben's longer form stories like Den, Mutant World, Bloodstar and Arabian Nights, I'd be happy as a  censored censored censored.

GRAPHIC NOVEL REVIEW: ATOMIC ROBO VOLS 4-6

Atomic Robo by Brian Clevinger (script) and Scott Wegener (art) (from small indie publisher Red 5 Comics) has become my new favourite comic. It is an all-ages comic containing the action science adventures of the title character. The self-aware Robo (as he's usually just called) was created in the 1920's by Nikolai Tesla and in the present is the owner of Tesladyne which specialises in advanced (and very dangerous) scientific inventions and saving the world. Robo's adventures can, therefore, cover a period of nearly a hundred years. Vol 4 is set in 1999, vol 5 in 1930, and vol 6 2011.

And basically it's mad as a box of monkeys but in a very endearing way.

Meet arch-enemy Doctor Dinosaur who believes he is a time-travelling genius dinosaur from the Cretaceous era. Robo (in their first encounter) spends an entire issue fighting while poking logical holes in DD's argument that he is any of these things. This is simply the funniest comic I have ever read. The dialogue immediately preceding the panel above has DD stating he's going to cut off Robo's head and post it to the US government. Robo asks how he's going to do this when they're on a desert island hundreds of miles from a post office. (Incidentally, DD is correct -it is a sentence. Robo doesn't always get it right.) 

This is from vol 4 Atomic Robo and Other Strangeness. A series of standalone stories set in 1999, they include vampires from a parallel world, Japan's Science Team Super 5, a ghost at Tesladyne labs, and the wonderfully deluded Doctor Dinosaur.

Vol.5 (the first I read) Atomic Robo and the Deadly Art of Science is set in 1930 when Robo is still a gofer for Tesla. Inspired by pulp thrillers, he tries to get The Tarot, a two-gun masked crimefighter, to allow him to become his assistant in an adventure which results in our two heroes and The Tarot's beautiful daughter battling against Tesla's arch-enemy Thomas Edison and Edison's very large robot.

The Ghost of Station X is the 6th and latest collection. Robo and Tesladayne find themselves under attack from an enemy they can't locate. But what does this have to do with a vanished building at Bletchley, England, where Alan Turing, the tragic founder of modern computing, worked on the Enigma machine during World War 2? You'll be surprised.

This is an enormously exuberant series, far more clever and intelligent than the angular cartoony artwork would suggest. Robo himself is an engaging character being warm, witty and compassionate. It's simply the most entertaining comic I've read in a long time. Despite the all-ages tag, it isn't written down, rather it's written up. Ten year olds will enjoy it but on a completely different level to their parents. Greg Rucka, writing a puff piece (introduction), states he immediately gave it to his wife to read and then his 11 year old son (and presumably his servants if he has any -Lady Chatterly's Lover trial joke) and he was absolutely right to do so. Atomic Robo refreshes the parts of the imagination that other comics fail to do while allowing you to experience the sheer joy of Action Science.

So, you are no doubt asking, why don't I have the first three volumes in the series. Short answer: because they're all over £20 each and are out of print. A used copy of volume 3 is available for £49.95, a new copy for £1287.06. I think this last one might be a mistake and have emailed the seller to check. I'm hoping it might be £12.87 but realistically that's not very likely. I did manage to order a copy of Vol 2 for about £14.00 but was so excited I forgot to check the condition which is 'very good' which could mean anything.

BOOK REVIEW: THE ART OF HOWARD CHAYKIN by BOB GREENBERGER (2012)

This is one of those reviews where I'm not sure where to begin. I can't start by saying that Chaykin is one of the greatest comics artists ever because he isn't -though he's pretty damn good. What he did do, however, is to write and draw American Flagg which is the greatest science fiction comic ever -I've reviewed the two-volume compilation elsewhere in this blog. He did this back in the early 80's before Alan Moore (who wrote a backup strip for it) became  ALAN (PRAISE HIS NAME) MOORE! and before Frank Miller released The Dark Knight Returns which cough borrowed cough the narrative/satirical info-dump technique from AF and then got widely praised for this 'innovation'. Perhaps not surprisingly, Chaykin doesn't have much time for Miller.

I could write a lot about American Flagg but I've already done that so I'll just say that if Chaykin had done nothing else he'd have earned a distinct place in the history of comics. Fortunately he did and this book explores all of it.

As an account of the work of a comic writer and artist, this is an excellent book. It's physically large, on glossy paper, with a vast amount of illustrations and an equally substantial amount of text. Structured chronologically, most of the written content derives from long conversations with Chaykin conducted over the course of a year. (This text is interspersed with comments from various peers which range from insightful and informative to 'my buddy Howie, wisecrack, wisecrack)'. This is followed by a checklist of everything Chaykin has had published, split into categories including comic books, strips, collected editions, etc. After this comes an eclectic forty page gallery of artwork. Anyone wanting to create their own The Art Of My Favourite Artist wouldn't go wrong using this as a template.

Chaykin started back in the early 70's as an assistant to people like Gil Kane. It's a comic business tradition of artists using assistants to do background work on panels and learn the trade that way and Chaykin continued this tradition. It's a form of payback and Chaykin always pays his debts. The impression gleaned from the book is that he's the sort of person that if you like you like a lot and if you don't you cross the street to avoid but that's probably your loss. While admitting he might be an acquired taste, his peers are unstinting in their praise for his professionalism, the honesty and insight of his criticism, and how he goes out of his way to be helpful. When it comes to his work, he's meticulous. If he agrees to write and draw a 28 page comic every month then that's the editor will receive and it will be the best he can do. 

By the early 80's Chaykin had established his style (see samples below) and it hasn't changed much; refined perhaps, also partly altered by the improvement in the technological changes in the use of colour. While his own work for independent comics companies can include the near pornographic Black Kiss (sexy shemale vampires no less), his tendency is to write the roguish hero, as good with a quip/gun/sword/blaster as he is in bed, he's also created comics for both DC and Marvel and drawn/written their characters.

While an intelligent writer and a skilled artist, his prime skill is as a designer. The way he lays out a page that blends text and art is outstanding -check out Google images for numerous examples. Not everything he does works  -the same can be said for Alan Moore- but it's always interesting and he deserves this lavish and currently, on Amazon, modestly priced book.

I could add lots more but enough is enough.

BOOK REVIEW: THE WORLD OF POO by TERRY PRATCHETT (2012)

"Shit, glorious shit!
There nothing more fun
than rolling in it!"

Terry has managed to get the publishing rights to Felicity Beedle's excellent short novel which has previously only been published in Ankh-Morpork (and territories). Terry, has, as is his wont, annotated it for our benefit. It tells the tale of young Geoffrey sent to live for a short period (for reasons later revealed) with his influential grand-mama in the great city itself and how he develops a passion for collecting all different kinds of poo and meets many kind people from all walks of life who assist him.

It goes without saying that this is also an informative work which provides the reader with information about the biological necessity for poo and the many uses it can be turned to to enhance the lives of Ankh-Morporkians (and indeed ourselves). 

We must also thank Mr Peter Dennis for his excellent illustrations.

Given the success of this tome, we can only hope that Terry can gain the rights to other of Miss Beedle's work (listed in the book) such as Melvin and the Enormous Boil, War with the Snot Goblins, and, of course, Geoffrey and the Land of Poo.

SOCIETY: WEDDING

Along with she who must be obeyed plus my brotherandsisterinlaw, I went to a wedding yesterday which is of no interest to anyone but myself and those who attended but as it was such a hugely enjoyable occasion I thought I'd mention it anyway. Our link was that she whose every word is law is BFF with the groom's mother, plus we also knew his sister and also him, albeit not as well. 

No names and little detail because they aren't mine to give, though I'd very surprised if they can't be found on Facebook. However, the bride had/has a heart condition and was lucky to have it discovered otherwise she might have died. She gave a very moving speech urging the guests to donate to a charity which publicises the test which saved her life (and which I've forgotten, sorry). This may have something to do with the fact, plus the couple are really really nice, that it was the most genuinely happy wedding I've been to and I wanted to commemorate that on record in this blog. Although only counting as a fringe guest, I came away feeling really good about the world and if it can do that to an old insular curmudgeon like me, you can imagine how the bride and groom felt.

And below, she whose word is absolute law with the groom's mother (and, oh, the groom).

And that's me on the right.