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How out of ideas is the modern movie industry? It’s to the point that they are rehashing ideas from HBO movies of nearly 30 years ago. And not even popular ones. Hardly anybody ever talks about this film. Well, after all, it is a product of the ’90s. Perhaps it is irrelevant to our own era. But all the same, it’s always interesting to see how the zeitgeist evolves.

The Second Civil War is a dark satirical comedy, centered around a fictional cable news network, News Net. When the film begins, the network is covering the arrival of refugees from Pakistan, fleeing a nuclear war, and admitted into the state of Idaho.

Idaho governor James Farley, who is seeking re-election, decides to close the state border, claiming they are already flooded with immigrants. Although publicly he poses as a hardline anti-immigration conservative, in his private life the governor actually enjoys many pleasures from outside of the U.S., most strongly evidenced by the fact he is cheating on his wife with a Mexican-American News Net reporter.

The President, acting on the recommendation of his advisor, Mr. Buchan, issues an ultimatum by which Gov. Farley must open the border. In a bit of a humorous twist, they move the deadline so as not to interfere with the finale of a TV soap opera, showing that their decisions are driven as much by a desire for ratings as anything else.

Meanwhile, News Net continues to cover the evolving situation with increasing fervor, and both the president and the governor–or at least, the governor’s hapless advisor–watch the television coverage closely, their actions driven in response to what is said about them on the news.

Gradually, other states begin to join in on the side of Idaho, pledging their own National Guard units to come to the embattled state’s aid. Soon, it becomes a political football to be kicked around in the increasingly Balkanized U.S. Congress. As one News Net report (played by James Earl Jones) describes the legislature, it’s become a “political bazaar” where different factions brazenly feud with one another.

(I am reminded of a line from another late ’90s movie: “The Republic is not what it once was… there is no interest in the common good.“)

Or, as the News Net reporter muses when talking with a militant Congressman: “I rode the buses back in the ’60s to bring people together. Seems pretty unfashionable nowadays.”

The situation continues to escalate, exposing all the various fault lines of division that exist across the country. Meanwhile, the reporters of News Net continue to both watch and make the news, selling each new flashpoint in the conflict with a gee-whiz graphic and punchy headline.

There are also all sorts of minor characters who add flavor to the story: from the tough-talking Army general and his old rival who leads the militia, to the cynical on-the-ground reporters who constantly threaten to quit only to be dragged back in, to the social activist who quickly brands anyone and everyone who disagrees with her as a fascist.

Maybe the best performance of all is Joanna Cassidy as Helena Newman, the co-anchor for the News Net coverage. She doesn’t have a lot of screen time, but her reaction as matters come to an increasingly serious crisis is one of the most memorable scenes in the whole film.

Ultimately, like most wars, once everything has built to a certain point, a simple accident is enough to light the fuse and create a violent reaction. We don’t see much of this, but we see enough. The film ends with James Earl Jones’s character giving one more melancholy reflection, and then a final, darkly ironic line plays as the end credits roll.

The cast in this is incredibly good: besides Jones and Cassidy, you have Beau Bridges in an Emmy-winning performance as Gov. Farley, the late, great Phil Hartman as the President, and James Coburn as his cynical advisor. Each character adds something; even those with relatively little screen time.

I have two minor criticisms. First, there’s a ridiculous amount of swearing in the dialogue. Now, I’m certainly not averse to profanity when the situation calls for it, and the nation plunging into civil war does call for it, but there is just so much that it feels gratuitous. It should have been reduced by about 30%, so that when people do curse, it carries real impact. But, this was the ’90s, and I think it might have seemed edgy at the time.

The second criticism is that one of the characters gets a basic fact about the first U.S. Civil War wrong. It almost makes me wonder if it’s a deliberate error, but somehow I don’t think so from the context. I can’t say exactly what it is, but let’s just say it’s rather jarring.

Other than these two minor points, I have to say this film holds up remarkably well as a satirical look at U.S. institutions and culture, all while giving us plausible, well-rounded characters, as opposed to mere puppets representing various ideologies. The characters feel real, which makes watching the disaster play out all the more poignant.

Of course, back in 1997, this must have all felt so far-fetched and extreme as to be almost absurd. Hence, why the film was presented as a comedy, albeit a very bleak one that loses any semblance of humor in the final few minutes.

But that was then, and this, moreover, is now. Have things changed? Oh, certainly they have changed! Have they changed in a way that makes this movie feel dated? Do the issues it raises now seem like the provincial ideas of a bygone era? Can we, the citizens of 2024, look back on this and laugh at it as an overwrought fever-dream that even in its time was unduly cynical and paranoid?

Or…?

Well, it would be pointless to suggest various other reactions one might have. You can watch the film yourself, and make up your own mind, if you so choose. I’m just reviewing it so you know it exists; what you do about it is up to you. To paraphrase something another cable news channel (not unlike News Net) used to say: “I report, you decide.”

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Why, you ask, am I reviewing a winter-themed book in early Spring? Well, first of all, I live in Ohio, where seasons are a fluid thing. Two days ago, it was in the 70s with tornado watches. Today it was sleeting with a freeze watch. Winter and spring are as one here in the Buckeye state.

Second, this is a story I read a while ago, but for some reason I didn’t review it at the time. I forget why. But, better late than never.

Our narrator is one Whittaker Snow, a girl who loves winter and everything that comes with it. Actually, many of the characters in the story have names that correlate with their natures. This is something that our cold-loving protagonist comments on frequently. Whittaker has grand and romantic visions for her future, like any good high schooler. And, also like any good high schooler, she needs to learn to deal with disappointment when reality doesn’t match her dreams.

In addition to the arc of her story–which is short and sweet–the tale is punctuated with “fun facts” about wintertime. Like many another Bertocci tale, although the book is brief, it covers a lot of interesting territory and ideas. Bertocci has a gift for taking a simple, even mundane concept, and infusing with interesting philosophy and cleverly constructed wordplay.

Much of the other kind words I have for this book are the same things I’ve praised in other works of Bertocci’s. He is a genre unto himself, and his books deserve to be widely read.

As for me, I’m off to get ready for the solar eclipse–if we don’t get a snow storm first.

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I heard about this book from Lydia Schoch’s review and I knew right away that I had to read it. Originally, I thought I would wait until Halloween season to review it, but then I thought, “Zis is Ruined Chapel! It is alvays Halloween here!” And besides, it’s such a delightful book, I couldn’t wait to share it with you all.

It tells the story of a ghost named Lazarus Bently, who is helping an amateur ghost out with a difficult assignment: haunting a woman named Maisie. Maisie’s artistic temperament makes her immune or oblivious to most of the standard tropes associated with hauntings: objects being hurled through the air, threatening messages on the walls etc. have no effect on her. What is a ghost to do?

Since this is a short story, I can’t say too much about how it all develops, or I’d risk giving it away. But, I can say that the author packs a lot of humor and clever ideas into a very short space. It’s like a supernatural version of “The Odd Couple,” with plenty of witty lines. I especially liked the idea that the ghosts feed off of fear, and when they need a quick hit, they drop in on people who are watching the news.

You might be saying, “But it’s only 18 pages long! Can it really be worth it?” Comes the reply: yes, it can. I read it in one evening and found myself chuckling the whole time. Sure, it’s a short read, but every minute spent reading it is fun, and that’s what matters.

Ghosted is a perfect fun supernatural story to read when you want a good laugh. As usual, Lydia is right on the money!

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“On the eighth day came a letter from Uncle Chris—a cheerful, even rollicking letter. Things were going well with Uncle Chris, it seemed. As was his habit, he did not enter into details, but he wrote in a spacious way of large things to be, of affairs that were coming out right, of prosperity in sight.”–P.G. Wodehouse, Jill the Reckless. (1920)

I apologize; no book review this week. Not that books are not being read here at Ruined Chapel! Indeed, books are very much being read by your humble host. But, many of them are advance reader copies, and so I cannot review them… yet. All in good time. Amazing things will happen here soon, you just wait!

However, since you were good enough to show up here, I must give you something. Why, you could read the book quoted above. I reread it recently, and it just might be Wodehouse’s best. Very funny, of course, but it also has a lot of heart.

Or, perhaps you’re in the mood for some heavier reading. Well, I’ve been flipping through The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind. A bit complex at times, but interesting.

I’ve also been reading The Invisible Emperor, because, well, of course I have. In the past year, I have read The Right Stuff, Answer to History, and a good bit of Overlord; although I have not finished it yet. It takes a lot to get me to read yet another WWII book, but it’s a good one. I almost never review books like this, because what can I possibly say in critique of actual history? Nevertheless, they are worthwhile all the same.

So, there you go! Maybe one of these titles catches your fancy. Let it ne’er be said that I didn’t try and bring interesting books to your attention this week. With any luck, next week I’ll have a proper review for you.

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This book is the sequel to Litka’s seafaring adventure tale Sailing to Redoubt. It picks up with Lt. Taef Lang working at his family shop, trying his best to keep the business going while his parents are traveling, when his old friend Sella Raah appears

In short order, Taef finds himself once again involved with Sella and her sister, Lessie. The polite, humble young officer begins breaking rules and taking chances in order to help out the impulsive sisters. His task is to spring Lessie from enforced confinement on the island of Cimlye.

Now, if you read the first book, you might remember that Lessie was not very friendly to Lt. Lang, despite all the help he gave her. Cold and aloof she was, unlike her more outgoing sister.

I have to admit, I didn’t like Lessie much in Sailing to Redoubt. Frankly, I thought the way she treated the likable Lang was quite reprehensible. Admittedly, as often as not, he would let himself in for it.  And at first, Prisoner of Cimlye seemed to be shaping up to be more of the same. Why, I asked myself, is Lang insisting on getting himself into these situations?

Well, as happens in any good story, the characters grow and develop. I won’t spoil it, but I was quite pleased with the way Taef and Lessie’s relationship evolved. It made me wish I had read it right after finishing Sailing to Redoubt. Who doesn’t love a good adventure yarn; and a splendid yarn this is, that left me eager for more. And–huzzah! For another book in this series will be released in less than a week’s time. I will soon be returning to the Tropic Sea saga.

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As I write these words, my Twitter feed is abuzz with talk of Dune Part 2. I have not seen this film, and it may be a good while before I do, as Dune Part 1 left me underwhelmed. Besides, I’ve never liked it when they split one book into multiple movies. And we all know what started that practice…

What does it say that the best idea the film industry can think to use for a blockbuster science fiction film is a nearly 60-year-old book that has already been adapted for the screen multiple times?

Are no new stories being told? Has the creative fire simply gone out of civilization, leaving us only with the ability to make increasingly shoddy copies of old masterpieces? Has the modern entertainment industry gradually supplanted our ability to innovate with a constant remixing of familiar stories that generate predictable cash flows for the massive corporations that churn out this material, while simultaneously siphoning the dynamism and vitality from them, in much the same way that over time, sports and games evolve into predictably boring affairs, as continual refinement of technique bleeds the spontaneity out of them? Was that last sentence entirely too long?

The answer to all these questions may well be “yes.” And yet, on the other hand, it may also be “no,” which brings me at last to the actual subject of today’s post, which is an original tale of adventure on a distant world.

The Last Ancestor is a science-fiction novel, telling the story of 17-year-old Garrett Nestor, a human settler of the planet Yxakh, to which his people have fled from persecution on Earth. Garrett along with his mother and little sister, live in the human colony of Canaan, which is currently at peace.

I say “currently” because previously they had fought a war against the inhabitants of Yxakh, a species of bipedal dog-like creatures which humans refer to as “Growlers.” You’ll notice I didn’t mention Garrett’s father in the description above; that’s because he died heroically fighting the Growlers.

However, now an uneasy truce exists between the human settlers and the warlike native inhabitants. Indeed, Garrett has even made friends with a young Growler named Ghryxa. Garrett and Ghryxa enjoy hanging out and exploring the nearby caves, while teaching one another about each others’ cultures and traditions.

So far, so good. What could go wrong, eh? Well, since the essence of drama is conflict, naturally, Garrett and Ghryxa soon find themselves caught in the crossfire between the humans and the Growlers, as well as an inter-Growler religious conflict! Not a pretty place to be in, especially given the Growlers’ tendency to settle things violently.

Speaking of violence, there are plenty of good action scenes in this book. Just look at the cover, and you’ll get a sense of the thing. It reminded me quite a bit of the works of Edgar Rice Burroughs, and his modern day stylistic heir, Henry Vogel. It has that same pulpish sense of fast-paced adventure.

But there are deeper themes here as well. The book has strong religious overtones, but not in the heavy-handed way that is commonly associated with religious fiction. No, here it is woven deftly into the story, and seems like a natural part of the characters’ personalities. (The book’s subtitle is a sort of clue here, but I’ll say no more than that.)

It’s quite well done and clever. The author goes to some lengths to build the world, including inventing a rather large vocabulary for the Growlers. There is a helpful appendix that explains many of these terms; always useful in books like this. Garrett and Ghryxa are both quite likable characters, and the device of using messages from Garrett’s late father as epigrams for many of the chapters was an inspired idea.

My only complaint about the book was that the ending felt abrupt. Of course it’s part one of a series, so clearly the idea is to get you to read the sequel, which I will probably do. So, in that sense, maybe this is a feature, not a bug.

All told, this is a fun adventure yarn; the sort of story that hasn’t been fashionable for a while, and yet people inevitably enjoy whenever they stumble across. Anyone who likes Sword and Planet adventure stories ought to check it out. And, let me add, it would make for a fine movie.

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“Like deep-burrowing, mythological worms, power lines, pipelines and pneumatic tubes stretch themselves across the continent. Pulsing, peristalsis-like they drink of the Earth and the thunderbolt. They take oil and electricity and water and coal-wash and small parcels and large packages and letters into themselves. Passing through them, underneath the Earth, these things are excreted at the proper destinations, and the machines who work in these places take over from there.

Blind, they sprawl far away from the sun, without taste, the Earth and the thunderbolts go undigested; without smell or hearing, the Earth is their rock-filled prison. They only know what they touch, and touching is their constant function.

Such is the deep-buried joy of the worm.” –-Roger Zelazny, The Dream Master

Every now and again, in the bookish circles of Twitter, I’ll see this tweet referenced:

This is an exaggeration for comic effect, but sometimes it is true. It is especially true with a book like The Dream Master, which I picked up after enjoying Zelazny’s A Night in the Lonesome October.

This book is absolutely nuts. There is a plot, to a degree, involving a man who helps shape and understand people’s dreams by means of a simulation machine. But that part of the story is only loosely threaded through bizarre and surreal images like that in the passage quoted above. I already forget, if indeed I ever knew, what that has to do with the story proper. But when you write something that good, it hardly matters.

It took me a while to figure out, but the book is actually structured like a dream. You know how dreams are: you’ll be at the office Christmas party, only your boss doesn’t look like your boss, and then suddenly you’re trying to break into a haunted house with the aid of Mitt Romney. It all makes sense when you’re dreaming it, and sounds insane when you remember it later. (And yes, I have had this exact dream.)

This book is like that; full of symbolism and weird changes of voice and perspective that call to mind simultaneously The Waste Land, the works of C.S. Lewis, and the more esoteric elements of the Dune universe. It is, in other words, a complete fever-dream acid-trip of a book.

Which is not to suggest that it is bad! Not at all. Indeed, I often think the best books, or at least the most memorable ones, are those that make you feel like you are teetering on the edge of madness. What fun is a book that merely describes the humdrum and everyday? If we accept the description of reading quoted above, then by golly, when I stare at my tree-slices and hallucinate, I want it to be something extraordinary.

And throughout The Dream Master, there are fragments like that; haunting, prescient, visionary glimpses into concepts that seem less dream-like now than they must have in 1966. Why, why is it, I ask you, that so many of these sci-fi dystopias of past literature seem to feel so uncomfortably close to our present-day reality? I am again reminded of Clarke’s Childhood’s End, and the idea that the appearance of the aliens in ancient human folklore meant that they “became identified with [humanity’s] death. Yes, even while it was ten thousand years in the future! It was as if a distorted echo had reverberated round the closed circle of time, from the future to the past.”

The idea of the future coming back to haunt us in the past–now there’s an idea that would be not at all out of place in Zelazny’s nightmare-world! No, no; this book, despite being in many ways exceptionally strange, is also endlessly fascinating, deeply unsettling and even, in some places, rather funny. I recommend it; just don’t go in expecting a linear narrative.

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Imagine a series about a school for sorcerers. Imagine that it involves an evil sorcerer, returned from a death-like state by his cult of followers. Now imagine that this sorcerer takes over the sorcerer school, and starts using it to instruct young magically-inclined persons in the ways of dark magic.

But! All is not lost. For there is a hero, chosen by prophecy, to fight back against the evil wizard and his minions.

This is of course a perfectly screwball premise for a zany comedy, and who better than Zachary Shatzer to do such a silly concept justice?  This is the third book in Shatzer’s Sorcerers series, and perhaps the craziest one yet. By this point, the Incompetent Hero’s penchant for triumphing through his own stupidity has become so well-known that various factions actively try to to harness it for their own ends. And he rarely disappoints; bumbling his way through multiple assassination attempts, barracuda attacks, and other assorted misfortunes that will come as no surprise to readers of the first two books.

Last year, I reviewed the book The Stench of Honolulu by Jack Handey, which Shatzer considers the funniest book he has ever read. I realize now that his Sorcerers series is very much in the same vein, with much of the comedy coming from the self-absorbed and careless main character spreading chaos wherever he goes.

I don’t know if Shatzer plans to write more in this series, but if he plans to keep it to a convenient trilogy form, then I must say that I think this one ends in a way that seems entirely appropriate for the buffoonish protagonist. After his more ambitious The Hero and The Tyrant, this volume is like a light-hearted satyr play. The premise I outlined above might not work as (for example) the culmination of a serious and sprawling story, but as a wacky comedy, it is just the ticket.

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Most of you know I hold P.G. Wodehouse in high regard. He is perhaps the greatest English comic novelist of the 20th century, and I never tire of rereading his classic Jeeves & Wooster novels. He had a gift for humorous prose that defies imitation.

And yet, you will notice I’ve never reviewed a book by him. Mostly, this is because the prospect of doing so is almost intimidating. What can I, a mere blogger, say about such a titan of literature? Better people than your humble reviewer have found themselves in awe of Wodehouse.

But, I’m going to review this short story because (a) despite being a Wodehouse fan since the age of 11, I hadn’t heard of it until last year, which means it’s pretty obscure and (b) because Wodehouse himself considered it one of the funniest things he had ever written. Which is really saying something, coming from the man who wrote Right Ho, Jeeves.

And finally, (c) it’s a bit offbeat by Wodehouse standards. You know me, I love anything that’s weird, different, out-of-the-ordinary, outré… you get the idea. And this book is certainly different than typical Wodehouse. For starters, it’s a ghost story!

Well, kind of. The protagonist is a novelist named James Rodman, who writes hardboiled thrillers. He is living at the home of his late aunt, Leila J. Pinckney, who wrote light romance novels. Rodman regards his aunt’s genre with contempt, considering it full of sappy clichés and cloying sentimentality.

But, in the cozy atmosphere of Honeysuckle Cottage, Rodman slowly begins to feel as if something is casting a spell over him. It starts with him writing a love interest into his latest novel; something which he abhors. And then, a young woman shows up on the doorstep, and he and she experience a “meet cute” right out of a Leila J. Pinckney novel!

As time goes by, Rodman starts saying and doing things that a Pinckney hero would do: picking flowers for the woman, and even reading her poetry. And here, I must quote verbatim:

“James had to read to her—and poetry, at that; and not the jolly, wholesome sort of poetry the boys are turning out nowadays, either—good, honest stuff about sin and gas-works and decaying corpses—but the old-fashioned kind with rhymes in it, dealing almost exclusively with love.”

I’m pretty sure that’s a T.S. Eliot reference. You love to see it.

Speaking of references, Wodehouse apparently intended the story as an homage to Henry James, who is mentioned briefly in the text, and whose brand of psychological mystery is very much in line with the kind of strange experience that Rodman finds himself undergoing.

So, what happens? Does Rodman succumb entirely to the mysterious power of Honeysuckle Cottage? Well, even though it’s almost a hundred years old, I can’t bring myself to spoil this one. The ending is simply too good; you have to read it for yourself. You can find it in the collection “Meet Mr. Mulliner,” which is in the public domain.

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If you don’t know by now that I’m a fan of Adam Bertocci’s fiction… well, I guess you’ll just have to read this review, and then you will.

Crappy Valentine’s Day is about a young woman in New York City who just wants to have a nice day. Not a romance or anything; just a pleasant day at home. But those hopes are dashed when her boss calls and asks her to come into the office to run a focus group session. As fate would have it, it’s for a dating service.

What follows is an interesting discussion of the different expectations men and women have for each other, as well as Bertocci’s hallmark, the emptiness of the careers most millennials find themselves in.

But Becca’s day doesn’t end there; not by a long shot. Valentine’s Day still has some surprises in store for her, and not just because of her cat, Boots, either.

This story is like a companion piece to Bertocci’s wonderful Samantha, 25, on October 31. That one is a more in-depth treatment of a young millennial adrift in the city, (as well as a cat with an attitude) but this book also has plenty of his trademark wit and charm.

If you haven’t read any Bertocci, despite my prior exhortations, then this is a good introduction to his style. And if you are a devoted Bertocci-head like me, this feels like a visit from an old friend. Either way, I recommend it.