Raising the Literary Bar--"In Medias Res"

In the last year or so, I've really gotten back into the idea of journalism. It's what I set out to do when I started college, but opted to switch to Creative Writing and a career teaching. But grad school does things to a man, and after two years of the stuff, I only further loathed the idea of going on to get my PhD. And even the light version, an MFA, didn't sound to appetizing. So journalism started sounding interesting again--I'd still be writing (presumably about topics that interest me, as opposed to say, post-colonialism sentiments in the poetry of Henry James, or something), and I could, in theory, still teach if I was freelance, or return to it after making a career out of writing. It's for that reason that I blog. And it's also why I've picked up every scrap of journalism and pseudo-journalism about topics of interest that I can get my hands on. Usually, the means "things related to video gaming and comics," but I also subscribe to Men's Health, read the numerous art periodicals that come out of Santa Fe and Albuquerque, and whatever online articles intelligent enough to keep me from feeling guilty over reading them when I should be working: right now, I reading everything I can find by Leigh Alexander, my new hero (or heroine, as it were).

And while in Borders the other day, I just happened to pick up a copy of Play magazine. I'd flipped through it in the past, but it never really stood out to me as exceptional (I mean, they publish the annual Girls of Gaming--like the Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition of gaming journalism). But the January 2009 issue really stood out to me. And it was because, as I flipped through it, the short quotes pulled from the articles suggested that there was some deep thinking going on it that issue. I didn't have time to read it there, so I bought it, took it home, and only had my new vocational aspiration strengthened. Let me share some of those "sound bytes" with you:

"It only takes two hours to watch a movie, and most of the time each movie gets its own weekend. If it takes twenty hours to finish a game, each game should get its own month."

"Great games happen when the mechanics are the system of narrative transmission."

"If storytelling works--Braid and Portal are great examples--then the experience is only that much richer."

"Having a developer tell me what to do is like all though laugh tracks on TV trying to tell me when to laugh."

And the one that really sunk in:

"However boneheaded the subject matter, no other medium is as intimate, is as cruel, is as affectionate, is potentially--potentially!--as rewarding as the video game."

And while most of these could be considered heresy in the industry, as someone who subscribed to Nintendo Power until they delegated the magazine to another publisher, I was taken aback by the level of sophistication with which these journalists were discussing video games. Indeed, an emerging medium always struggles with its first critics because those critics lack the vocabulary with which to judge the work. They are left, then, to judge it based on its comparison to traditional mediums--art, literature, and music. And while these writers are beginning to create their vocabulary (I'm still not entirely sure what "mechanics are the system of narrative transmission" means), they're moving the conversation forward.

But that doesn't mean that I think we shouldn't, or we can't, still use the old vocabulary. For example, comics are (often, though not always) a combination of the art and the written word. It, therefore, makes sense to judge the medium's work using critiques we would use for both styles. And same is true of all mixed-media (film, music, and of course, video games).

Interestingly, as I was reading this issue of Play, I was also half-way through a sequel in a game series whose original iteration I had not played. And I remembered shortly after starting it thinking, "Man, if I turned this into a short story and handed it out to my Creative Writing workshop, I'd get reamed for terrible in medias res!" And this coming from someone who generally has trouble remembering literary terms--for those curious, the Latin phrase meaning "into the middle of things," is defined by Jack Lynch (an Associate Professor of English at Rutgers University) as "a narrative that begins, not at the beginning of a story, but somewhere in the middle — usually at some crucial point in the action. The term comes from the ancient Roman poet Horace, who advised the aspiring epic poet to go straight to the heart of the story instead of beginning at the beginning." The trick to this is telling the story in such a way so as to ensure that the reader can follow it without knowing the beginning.

After having read the articles attached to the above quotes, I got to thinking, "Why should this game by free of that criticism?" Why should any storytelling be, for that matter? This has inspired a new feature here at The Daily Pugle, in which I plan on critiquing works from the mediums that most suffer from this lack in literary education: video games, of course, but also movies and, even though Timothy Callahan beat me to the punch (or post as it were) by one day, comics. We'll see if it works, but I'm excited about it--so excited that I may rush through that game this weekend just so I can post about it here.

Questions? Quibbles? Controversies?

WooHoo! Indie Comics!

One of my New Year's resolutions was to read more independent comics. And while, for some people, this simply means, "Anything not published by Marvel, DC, or their subsidiaries," I was aiming more at self-published and web comics. And while finding "good" web comics has proved easier than I thought (through some recommendations of friends), it's a little harder to find self-published comics. My local comic book store does, in fact, dedicate a small, hanging, plastic folder near its entrance, filled with such oddities. And while before my resolution, I'd flipped through a few, I'd never purchased or really read the material because most of it seemed, to be honest, lame. Enter fellow blogger and educator Andrew Wales and his quarterly serial, Eclectic Comics (now on its second issue).

At first glance, Eclectic Comics, looks like yet another superhero parody comic--the kind that the annual Best American Comics anthology likes to publish because no superhero comics "were particularly good"--stupid Harvey Pekar...But I digress.

Despite the covers, Wales' self-published comics aren't just about superheroes, and when they are, he's more concerned about the conventions of the genre. So while he might be making fun of superhero story plots with his one-bad-guy-after-another story "A Day in the Life", he's also demonstrating / practicing the genre's tendency to put as much on the page as possible while keeping from cluttering it.

In fact, most of the comics in Wales' issues are the products of comics "challenges" like: "Draw a comic based on this quote," "Draw a comic using the lyrics of your favorite song," etc. In fact, Eclectic Comics is as much a learning experience for Wales as it is a reading experience for us. And that's probably what I like about it most of all--it has the same personal feel as, say, flipping through an artist's sketchbook or a writer's journal. But since it's a comic, it has the feel of both examples, making it a comic unlike any I've read. Most of the comics, though reactions to particular challenges, are based on personal stories, just as those featuring The Mighty Andar (Wales' superpowered alter-ego) are based on personal observations of comics in general. It's also interesting that Eclectic Comics appears to be a family affair, featuring comics by both his daughter Anna and son Daniel (who also helped with the "computer stuff" and colouring of the covers).

Seeing as how Eclectic Comics is more an ongoing work-in-progress and labour of love than a publisher's high-end cash-cow, I don't have complaints so much as I have constructive criticism of aspects I'd like to see in the future. For starters, I love Wales' art style--like a mix of Charles Schulz and (Wales' self-proclaimed inspiration) Sergio Aragones--but it was nice having the work of his kids break that up. To that end, I'd like to see Wales experiment with his style a bit. An excellent example of this, is his story "Cannibals" (his take on the Mark Knopfler song) which is almost a series of flashback-like scenes of Wales and his young son in which everything is excessively shaded. But it isn't so much "dark" as it is "hazy," perhaps meant to signify the shadow that muddles memory. All of this is in stark contrast to Wales usual black-and-white, broad outlines, and rare shading. Which brings me to more a hope than a criticism: I'd love to see Wales do a full-colour issue. The covers are so vibrant, it's almost a shame to open them to black-and-white.

Of course, this last concern is as much an issue of money as it is time--both of which the project must already soak up quite a bit. To that end, I highly recommend you pick up a copy Eclectic Comics #1 and 2 in support of good, independent comics. And if you already have, see what else Wales is up to over at his blog Panel Discussion.

Questions? Quibbles? Controversies?

"Who Watches the Watchmen?" and "Movie Review: 'Marley & Me'"--"La Mecha" Jan. 32, 2009 PLUS Book Review: "Marley & Me"

Note: These are the original versions of these articles--the "Director's Cut," if you will.

"Who Watches the Watchmen?"

Originally, this was going to be an editorial on the recent lawsuit between Fox and Warner Bros. over who truly held the legal rights to distribute the film Watchmen (translated: who was going to reap the enormous profits that the film is likely to generate). I was going to discuss how, yes, Fox has had the rights for several years now, but their decision to not raise any red flags until after Warner Bros. had begun production of the film is a shameless way to get someone else to pay for and make a film and then sweep in and take the hard-earned dough. I might have even gotten a little preachy about how something as stupid as a lawsuit entangling a film to the point of being delayed a whole year just shows that movie studios don’t really care about their audience—only the money we spend to see their films.

However, all that has become moot as, on January 15th, the two studio giants have settled their case—distribution rights will go to the WB, the WB will pay a huge settlement to Fox, Fox will receive a cut of the profits that the film (as well as possible sequels) makes, and 300 and Dawn of the Dead’s Zack Snyder’s version of the acclaimed 1986 graphic novel will still debut on March 6. Nerds everywhere rejoice in the streets.

In researching all this, watching the news for bits and pieces concerning the case, I realized a huge voice was staying silent about the whole affair—that of the original story’s author Alan Moore. And that brought back the real question at hand for Watchmen aficionados. Should, what is possibly the greatest comic book mini-series of all time and arguably the most realistic superhero story ever told, be adapted into a film? Moore has made no secret about his feelings concerning early film adaptations of his other works like The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and From Hell—his works are meant to be read, and film versions would only take away from the stories he wanted to tell. Indeed, in respect of his wishes, the Wachowski brothers even made The Matrix instead of pursuing their true dream of directing a Watchmen flick—later going on to settle for adapting Moore’s other masterpiece, V for Vendetta.

In fact, I remember my first experience with Watchmen in an undergrad literature course at the University of Memphis. After reading the graphic novel, a peer asked our professor if he’d like to see a film based on the work. Our professor was explicitly clear: it would simply not be possible to take a work as grand in its scope as Watchmen and turn it into your standard hour and a half or even two hour feature. For the uninitiated, Watchmen is a story set in an alternate 1985, where the Cold War still exists but is much more subtle due to the existence of the world’s first “superhero.” But the events that lead to this involve the first generation of crime fighters in the thirties and forties, their predecessors in the sixties and seventies, and an America that does not welcome these masked figures but fears them. The story begins at the so-called eleventh hour, with America and the USSR at a nuclear standoff due to rising conflicts in Afghanistan. What unfolds is a story about our national consciousness, the nature of humanity, and what it truly means to be a “superhero.”

And if you are one of the twenty-three year old comics’ fans, you’re probably reading my summary and thinking, “But that leaves out everything else!” And that’s precisely the point behind such a question as to whether or not a work like Watchmen should be made into a film. How could a film really due the story justice? I’ve just barely written what’s on the surface, and without reading the book, how could you get beneath that, to the real meat (and meaning) of the story?

Of course, the same thing was said about Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, and fan response to them was pretty good. And didn’t Zack Snyder direct two previous adaptations of older works (the aforementioned 300 and Dawn of the Dead) that are faithful and arguably better than their predecessors? And don’t I constantly preach about the dangers of judging a film adaptation based on the work from which the film is adapted (ironically, something else I learned from that lit. professor)?

Yes, it’s likely Snyder will fail to capture Moore’s vision (either straying too far from the source material like what was done with Moore’s The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen or staying too close such as with Frank Miller’s Sin City). But I think he deserves that chance, and that Moore, like all great writers, knows that publishing a work is like sending a child into the world alone, for better or worse—even if that means watching his work’s bastard child being argued over by suitors who don’t seem to really care.

"Movie Review: Marley & Me"

In order to do well with a Christmas Day premier, a film generally has to be a solid family movie. After all, how can a studio expect to pull away only adults or teenagers on what has became the ultimate family get-together holiday? Thus, they have to lure in the entire family, and Marley & Me gets about as family as a movie can. For despite what the title suggests, the film isn’t only about Marley the yellow Labrador retriever and his master John Grogan (the author of the memoir turned movie). It is, in fact, about a family. And perhaps, more importantly, it’s about a new family—a family that begins with a husband, a wife, and “the world’s worst dog.”

Assuming you’ve actually watched movies at some point in your life, you probably know that movies with dogs are good for two things—cheap laughs and tug-at-your-heartstrings cries. Let’s look at just a few: Old Yeller, Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey, The Fox and the Hound, All Dogs Go to Heaven, Eight Below. Forgetting that three of these are Disney films, we can assume that Marley & Me set out to do the very same thing: make you “Aw, how cute” at cuddly-furball-puppy Marley, raise a hand to your mouth in shock at the antics of incorrigible-destructive-adolescent Marley, reaffirm your beliefs in man’s-best-friend with adult Marley, and empty a tissue box over the last days of Marley.

And while, yes, Marley & Me’s twenty-two dog actors playing the title character do their best to fulfill each of these expectations, the film is more than that. As mentioned above, it’s really the story of a family and how they are not only affected by Marley but what they learn from him, as well. And as such, it’s easy to relate to this “dog movie” in the same way it is often difficult to relate to others (after all, it’s not everyone who has to put his rabies infected dog down with the family shotgun as a teenager, or leads a team of sled-dogs across the Antarctic).

For starters, the film begins with John and his newly wed (and newly nesting) wife Jenny, who’s barely married and already excited about children. But John, like most newly ex-members of the bachelor’s club with a new career, home, and life companion ahead of him, is understandably hesitant about bringing more responsibility into his world. So instead, he surprises Jenny with a trip to a local dog breeder, and pretty soon, the couple have their hands full taking care of a dog—a perfectly relatable situation, and a solution I myself have been seeking ever since my own wife went from recoiling from the crying, screaming brats in Wal-Mart to pointing out each and every one of them for how cute they are. And as audiences watch this film, they will undoubtedly see bits of their own lives in there, as well—whether it’s Jenny trading her career for her children, John taking a job he doesn’t really want just so he can afford buying his rapidly growing family a bigger house, or the kids playing alongside their four-legged sibling. Of course, whatever direction their lives take, good or bad, Marley is there to love them along the way—if causing a mess or two.

Of course, the film isn’t for everyone. I’ve read plenty of comments that the film just promotes the average, run-of-the-mill American family—complete with soccer-mom, mini-van and, of course, dog. Some have simply pointed out that the acting is bad. And others complained that the film was way too sad (I leave it to you to figure out how this, just like every other “dog movie,” ends). I can’t really say much to retort to the first two claims except to ask for a definition of the “average American family” and say that the twenty-two dogs playing Marley fully convinced me he was “the world’s worst dog.” But to the final critique, I have to say, that’s life; and that’s the message of this film. Yes, parts of it are sad, but a lot of it is freakin’ hilarious! And if you go through it only dwelling on the sad parts, then maybe you need a dog like Marley, who enjoys every second.

Book Review: Marley & Me: Life and Love With the World's Worst Dog

Despite being an English teacher, I sort of came into this backwards—seeing the film before reading the book. But it isn’t very often a film adaptation of a book inspires me to read the book itself. I’m glad I did.

Marley & Me: Life and Love with the World’s Worst Dog follows the story of Marley the Labrador retriever (or more aptly, the Labrador evader, as he doesn’t so much as retrieve things as steals them) and John Grogan his owner. Grogan, now a columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer wrote his memoir about his relationship with his pet after his columns detailing living “with the world’s worst dog” (particularly the one in which he said farewell to his beloved pooch) generated hundreds and hundreds of e-mails, phone calls, and letters. It was then he realized that all this time he’d been striking a chord in his columns that readers across America could hear.

Marley & Me begins with newly wed John and Jenny who, not quite ready to start having children, buy Marley from a South Florida puppy farm, deciding that taking care of a new pet will hold them over for a few years. Before they know it, they have three kids and a dog who still acts like he’s the baby of the family. But Marley can’t stay a puppy forever. And soon the sandwich thieving, pet carrier escaping, gold necklace swallowing, pillow destroying Lab begins going deaf, blind, arthritic, and scares the family with a couple of emergency trips to the vet. And while a lot of the book reads like a kind of guide book for terribly behaved dogs from puppyhood to senior citizen status, pet owners and animal lovers will recognize Marley and dogs like him for what they are—members of the family, irreplaceable despite and perhaps because of their faults.

Yes, it’s sappy. And yes, it has the kind of lessons you expect out of a Mitch Albom novel. But Marley & Me is a memoir, and somehow, keeping that in mind as I read it made every part of it seem less corny. This isn’t just a story; it’s somebody’s life. And while some critics might argue that that just makes it another story or that all stories are really about somebody’s life, I actually think that arguing it’s better because it’s a memoir makes sense. It’s something I hear from my Composition students all the time (particularly in my comic book class)—“I couldn’t get into it because it wasn’t realistic” or “I only like reading stories about real people.” I suspect it’s for this reason that several student-athletes I’ve had over the years have only ever read autobiographies like Jose Conseco’s Juiced. And just like I tell them to find a way to relate to the characters in other books the way they might relate to Conseco, it’s easy to relate to the people and events in Grogan’s life.

I know what it’s like being newly wed—tons of opportunities ahead, unsure of which to tackle and which to just eye cautiously. I know what it’s like to have a dog from its awkward puppy years to the last days of its life. And for that reason, I know others will relate to other parts of the book—John and Jenny’s first house, Jenny’s miscarriage followed by their first child, deciding to move away from their home because the neighborhood’s become too dangerous, taking a chance on a new career, etc. But ultimately, the experience that Grogan wants readers to relate to the most (whether you have already or not) is that of having an unconditionally best friend by your side through all the ups and downs of your lives together.

And how many of us can truly say we have someone like that in our lives? One thing’s for certain, however; I really want a dog now.

The Cake is a Lie! Review "The Orange Box: Portal" plus "Team Fortress 2"!

For Christmas this year, my wife and I got each other a PlayStation 3. As a film major/fine arts minor and gamer, respectively, buying a new toy that would simultaneously allow us to watch Blu-Rays (and take it from the skeptic, it is amazing!) and play visually stunning games just made sense. And our first game for the system was Valve's 2007 release The Orange Box--mainly because it was crazy cheap, and the system itself put us back quite a bit. For those unfamiliar with the release, The Orange Box was titled so for its packaging and because it came with not one game, but five first-person shooters: Half-Life 2, Half-Life 2: Episode 1 and 2, Portal, and Team Fortress 2. I was going to wait until I'd beaten all five titles to review The Orange Box as a whole, but I barely have time to do my work, let alone play video games. So what follows are impressions of Portal and Team Fortress 2.

Portal:
Despite coming out back in 2007, this is the perfect example of what the video game industry is surely lacking. If you were to ask a random person who didn't necessarily know much about video games what their first thoughts were when asked about shooter games, they'd be likely to turn their parental noses up and mention the bloody Gears of War games or roll their eyes over their boyfriends' Halo infatuation. There's a simple reason for this, the last few years have seen so many shooters pulling in so many casual video game players that they dominate the public image of the community. And while Portal falls into the definition of the shooter genre, it's unmistakably different, if only because it also falls into the puzzle genre.

Rather than trying to actually explain the premise of the game, I think a visual well do the trick nicely:


This alone had me wanting to play the game, and it doesn't disappoint--it's quite possibly the most original game I've ever played. The trailer is from an earlier version of the game, and it definitely looks better now. The puzzles themselves are all excellent, and lend themselves to multiple solutions--which I really appreciated. None of them are insurmountable, but solving them definitely requires some imagination--such as using the momentum of gravity in a vertical free-fall to propel you horizontally across a chasm.

But perhaps my favorite part of this game is the dialogue--which belongs almost exclusively to the computer voice (featured in the trailer) that is your only contact with the world outside the testing facility. While her instructions, praise, and condolences are always extremely straightforward in the way computers calculate logic, they are always snarky and dryly humourous in a way not often seen in video games.

Perhaps my only complaints are the game's shortness and incomplete storyline. It really takes a long time for the game to get going and not just feel like I'm completing these puzzles for any reason other than that if I don't then I'll die. And just as the plot gets interesting, the game ends--leaving me with more questions than answers about exactly what happened in the game. Of course, while this does open the game to sequels, it's for this reason that I stopped watching Lost and haven't really made an effort to watch Heroes (or even see when it'll come on) since New Years.

Overall, I would highly recommend this game, also available for the PC and XBOX 360. Not only will it challenge your own perceptions about what a video game "can be," but put it in the hands of skeptic and I'm sure they'll change their tune, as well.

Team Fortress 2:
This was my first online multiplayer only game--meaning you can only play it online and with other people. And I like it, much in the same way that it's fun to play tether ball in elementary school. You play it a couple of times, get thoroughly trounced because you can't quite get up to speed and are afraid of getting hit. But pretty soon, you're not too bad at it, and it's all you want to do at recess. And then it happens! You beat the best kid at school, and you are the reigning champ! Sure, you get challenged a couple of times, and you usually win. But one day, you lose...and that's it. You don't really care, and you go off to play something else at recess like tag with the girls because it's your first real experience flirting--and oh so close to the real thing! And that's what I think of Team Fortress 2.

Ben's Top 5 Video Games of 2008

2008 was not my finest year for video gaming--finishing up my Master's Thesis for the first five months and trying to get the swing of my first full-time university teaching position the last four. So my time to play video games was extremely limited for the majority of the year--save those sweet summer months when I was only teaching one class four days a week and lifeguarding only on the weekends the pool was desperate. But I still wanted to do a post about my favorite games of the year--an increase in pay made it possible to play a lot of games straight out of the gate...well, a lot more than usual. And I was starting to think it was a bit late for that. But what the heck, if the IGN editors can be just now posting their "Top 10 Picks of 2008," why can't I? And so, without any further ado, I give you, my Top 5 Games of 2008:

5) Defend Your Castle (WiiWare):
This might surprise more than a few people. But when we finally got high-speed and I finally got a Wii points card, I had to download this game. It simply looked like too much fun: simple enough to pick up play even with my schedule, yet challenging and quirky enough to keep me interested. I mean, how could defending a cardboard castle from an army of stick men with buttons for heads, Popsicle sticks for battering rams, and pop-gun caps for explosive charges not be fun! My wife and I loved everything about this game--the art and spelling that made the game look like a product of six year olds, the ironically epic music, the hilarious mouth-made sound effects--right up until we realized the game was going to continue forever or until our castle walls were breached by literally hundreds of stick figures. Both outcomes generally ended in fits of laughter and frustration.

4) Sid Meier's Civilization Revolution (DS):
I can say, with almost no shame, that I was severely addicted to this game for about three months. I'd never played a "Civ" game before, but when I heard that the developers were making a DS version of a game they were also make for the PS3 and XBOX 360 that toted the exact same game with only simpler graphics and less online support, my attention was piqued. After all, why did I need fancy battle sequences? And I didn't have time to sit down online for three hours anyway. So I finally picked it up Labor Day weekend: a majorly addictive game right at the start of a new term--big mistake. Game after game I tried beating the computer on the hardest difficulty and simply couldn't do it. But I was having so much fun, even losing, that I bought the strategy guide and studied it until I could trounce the computer's nations of the world with tanks in the 1800s and bombers by 1900. Then I put it away...far away, to never again peer into its soul-sucking complexity. Now that I think about it, it was kind of like my Ark of the Covenant from Raiders of the Lost Ark...

3) Mega Man 9 (WiiWare):
I was a big fan of the NES Mega Man games when I was a kid. I was only allowed to plug my Nintendo into this little 13-inch black and white TV, so I could never use the colour coded password-save system in Mega Man 5. Yet I would consistently try to beat it from start to finish in one sitting--that's how much I loved that game (or just how much time I had on my hands in elementary school). But I didn't really like it when my favorite, blue-pixelated hero with a laser cannon for an arm begun to evolve with the times into something nearly unrecognizable to me in the last few years. Thus, Capcom's announcement to make a "retro" Mega Man sequel attracted my attention. And I really liked it. I never beat it, but I really liked it. Like all retro platformers, 9 required me to memorize patterns, timing my jumps and attacks. And Capcom did an excellent job sticking to that theme here. Unfortunately, I got the game right before mid-term, got to the final level right as my semester was getting serious, and simply didn't have time to memorize all those patterns and timed jumps and attacks. But for that month or so, it really took me back.

2) Final Fantasy Tactics A2: Grimoire of the Rift (DS):
Seeing two strategy games on my list might lead you to the conclusion that I like strategy games. Well, I do--I'm currently in the throws of an office chess match with a colleague from down the hall (he saw that I set up a chess board--just for this purpose--and made a move) that's lasted a week so far. But I also really like the Final Fantasy universe--despite I've really only played the mandatory VII, the original Tactics Advance, and a couple others. So this game seemed like a natural fit. And even though I didn't get it until Boxing Day, the fact that it rose to my number two spot in the less than a week left in 2008 should say a lot about how much I like this game. Like all DS strategy games, it should be fun to play without being too simple and easy to pick up for a quick round without seeming pointless. And it doesn't hurt that this one has RPG elements.

1) Super Smash Bros. Brawl (Wii):
Now, before I get ridiculed as a Nintendo fanboy who blindly followed the hype into what was received as everything from shameless promotion of Nintendo's franchises to Melee 2, I have to justify my choice to say that Brawl was simply the game I most enjoyed last year--and really, isn't that what gaming is supposed to be about? From the moment I got my copy shortly after midnight on the release date, I began training for my first competitive tournament (at the local Play'N'Trade) playing at least an hour a day regardless of whatever other priorities I had. And I won that tournament (skipping my own MA graduation ceremony to attend), and with the gift card I won I was able to (painfully) save it to buy a PS3 for Christmas. And after the tournament, when my wife and I finally got high-speed Internet, the game meant a way to keep playing with the older of my two little brothers half way across the country. Or it meant I could get online and vent some frustration for a few minutes. And since my youngest brother got a Wii and his own copy for Christmas, it will mean that both my brothers and I can still "get together" on the weekends and play video games like we used to. And a video game experience that can do all that deserves my number one spot.

Closing Thoughts:
As I mentioned before my list, there were a lot of games I would have liked to play this year. And judging by my personal tastes, I probably would have really liked them too. No More Heroes has rested on my shelf since I borrowed it from a friend before Christmas. And while I love Little Big Planet, I just haven't been able to put as much time into it as I would like. Then there are the disappointments. Okami for the Wii, though it wowed me with it's amazing art-style from the get-go, became more and more a chore to play as the game continued. And while I loved the story in Star Wars: The Force Unleashed, the game was too short yet repetitive and epic but anti-climactic. Plus we simply got our PS3 too recently to try all that console had to offer last year. But I'm looking forward to what 2009 will have to offer. My list of new games to play is already in the double-digits. So like 2008, I'll have to be very picky about which I'll spend my money and, more importantly, my time on.

"Tales of Beedle the Bard" Shows How Cool Real Academia COULD Be

I think that as a student of English literature, I recognize this little collection for what it's emulating/making fun of: Norton Critical Anthologies. And I think that other English majors and teachers will agree with my wish that all critical anthologies were this much fun to read.

While it was always evident that Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling was well versed in fairy tales, this collection of "wizarding fairy tales" truly shows how much she understands the basic structures, themes, and tellings of classic fairy tales. And she demonstrates this so well that the stories here, told as translations from classic stories in the wizarding world, seem familiar (like all good fairy tales do). Reading them, I almost knew the endings well before they came, but I still felt like a kid, excited to hear the conclusion, just to be certain that this hero succeeded and that villain failed like they were supposed to.

Something also must be said about the art of the book. The cover, like all the American editions of the novels, is illustrated by Mary GrandPré, and it is, as usual, a combination of details and shadows (perhaps meant to suggest the way in which the wizarding world--and indeed, the real one--can only be understood). However, the inside illustrations are drawn by the author. I have to say, I really appreciate this. That's not to say that the inside art work is amazing--one picture, in particular, of a horse looked a little "off.But it's truly commendable that the author took the time to put a little more of herself into what is really a "just for kicks" book; she's already rich, and the proceeds to this book--like Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them and Quidditch Through the Ages--are going to charity. But unlike those other books, this one doesn't feel rushed--in the way that perhaps she not only wrote the stories in advance of finishing the Harry Potter series (they are, after all, mentioned prominently in The Deathly Hollows) but used them in her own study of the world she was creating.

But almost as important to the work as the actual "tales" are the commentaries by Albus Dumbledore. This is where I see the akin nature to "The Norton Critical Edition of the Brother's Grimm Fairy Tales" and the like. As in the Norton, commentary on the stories is included side by side the tales. Dumbledore gives the reader insight into the tales, beyond the surface, in a way that is always interesting--as it simultaneously tells us something about the story and the wizarding world (of which we Muggles do not contain a true understanding).

"The Spirit"--A Vital Commentary...Done Poorly

I live in a very small town with only one movie theatre (in the fall, winter, and spring) with only one screen on which, by contract, they are only allowed to show one movie for a minimum (usually) of two weeks. This generally means that I have to travel about an hour away to a movie theatre with a wide enough selection that I can actually see the movie I want to see. This also means that I rarely get to see movies I want to see right away. Such is the case with Frank Miller's The Spirit. Being the comics aficionado that I am, I really wanted to go see it right away--well, maybe not right away (it was Christmas, after all)--but I had to wait a couple of weeks until my wife and I's latest trip out of town to see it.

In the mean time, I had the opportunity to read the reviews about the film and see what the public thought. Reviews of the film gamut from, "Bad movies have seldom looked so good," to "[There is] no consistency or rhythm to its visual tangents, which splotch about frantically, desperately, like diarrhea spraying about the outside of its porcelain target."But I ignored them, dragged my wife along to see it with me and must, respectably, disagree with them all.

That's not to say that I'm going to venture to the polar opposite and argue that The Spirit should win the Oscar for Best Picture; I just wouldn't venture so far as to say it's "the worst film of 2008"--I was extremely disappointed with The Day the Earth Stood Still, and even though Juno technically came out in 2007 I first saw it on DVD in 2008. What complicates this it that I've always been one to preach about how one cannot critique a movie based on the work from which it is adapted, and I stand by that claim. The trouble is that the very points I would use to defend Miller's film would violate that claim. Thus, I am forced to make an exception to this rule--a film may be compared to the work on which it is based in the event that the film is commenting on the work on which it is based. I grant that this might seem lame, but really, very few films do this very thing.

In point of fact, almost all of Frank Miller's work has been a commentary on some genre. In fact, the work that made him famous (Batman: The Dark Knight Returns) is a commentary on Batman's post-Golden Age world. The Sin City series is a commentary on crime-noir detective novels--as is Hard Boiled. His film version of Will Eisner's classic comic is no different, and I truly think that knowing this makes all the difference when seeing this movie--it makes me think of the time I introduced Quentin Tarantino's films to a friend and had to tell her thirty minutes into Pulp Fiction that it was okay to laugh.

As such, I like to think that the cheesy names, ultra-campy dialogue (as well as the acting that delivers it), hole ridden plot, and crazy fight scenes, are all intentional (I also like to think that Miller makes very few mistakes as a writer--there's a reason for every absurdity) and meant to shed light on what was once the height of popularity in the genre of detective fiction. Yes, the plot is all over the place, but parts of it are taken straight from Eisner's pages, as are the dialogue, fight scenes, and names. And we hail him as a genius! Miller is simply letting us know how absurd it all was. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that (I certainly had no problem with it in Dark Knight Returns), nor do I think it makes the film bad. One critic I read complained about the Looney Tunes-esque quality of the fight scenes, and I was reminded of my first review of Eisner's work. The fight scenes in the comic are absurd--if the Spirit gets hit with a crowbar, it will take the shape of his head. But despite all the punishment he can take, the regular flat-foots die with a single knife or gunshot wound--Miller even uses this oddity to propel the central conflict of the film. I was taken aback by this seemingly at odds style of art and writing--unabashedly adult themes coupled with cartoon like absurdity--until an art-teacher and fellow blogger (thanks, Andy) explained that this was actually an art style of the period dubbed "big foot comedy."

But, I do intend to get technical with Miller's film. The guy can write one amazing graphic novel, but films are not like graphic novels and cannot be written the same way. Yet Miller seems to have taken the idea that storyboards are essentially comics and run with it so fast that his producers couldn't keep up. I'll even go so far as to say that if Miller had taken his story for The Spirit and turned it into a graphic novel instead of a movie, it would have been hailed as one of the great comic works of 2008--certainly better than Azzarello's The Joker. But a movie isn't like a comic book, and as such it cannot be paced as one, visualized as one, or contain as many sub-plots. Consequently, I left the film feeling like the story was rushed, the shots were not particularly filmed well (except for the Sin City-like silhouette ones), and that I really didn't know anything about any of the characters.

Still, I liked it. It made me laugh--though I think it took the other audience members a while to realize the film was meant to be, in part, a parody. I say "in part," because the theme of the film is really central to several hero stories--the hero cannot belong to any one person; he can only belong to that which he would protect. And despite that Miller constantly pokes jokes at this by tossing tons of eye-candy at the screen and, indeed, the Spirit, it is a theme I think is only now beginning to reenter popular culture (such as in Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight). As the film's beginning and ending monologue (featured in the film's trailer and--might I add--the kind of writing where Miller really shines) explains, he is the spirit of his city, and he can only be faithful to her.

A "Lump of Coal" I Wouldn't Mind Finding in My Stocking Next Christmas

The Lump of Coal is a holiday children's book by acclaimed author Lemony Snicket, writer of the equally famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) A Series of Unfortunate Events. For the uninitiated, Snicket generally writes depressing stories, if only to bring light to plight of the stories' characters. And The Lump of Coal is really no different.

That said, this little picture book (with amazing art by Snicket's partner in crime, Brett Helquist) while pointing out the inherent hypocrisies of the world around his chief character, is really about the small but no less important or abundant miracles that surround all of us.

But to those uninitiated into Snicket's prose style, his writing may come off as odd, to say the least. True to his style, Snicket is always sarcastic in a blunt-as-possible manner (describing the birth of Jesus as "a baby born in a barn without proper medical supervision"). However, it is that bluntness that always makes his characters' actions seem extraordinary. And that is really the theme of all his books--in each of us is the potential for great things.

Having read this to my wife when another friend and Snicket-fan lent it to us, we decided this book will be a part of our family's Christmas traditions. And we're also looking forward to reading his other holiday children's book, The Latke That Couldn't Stop Screaming: A Christmas Story. That probably says more about what I think of this book than anything.

"Jingle Bells, Batman smells. Robin laid an egg! The batmobile lost a wheel, and the Joker got away!"

For starters, this is an actual "graphic novel" as termed/coined by Eisner. It's not simply a collection of serials bound together. It was actually written as, published, and can be read as a novel. I won't get into the details of how impressive that is or why it makes for better, more cohesive writing than regular "graphic novels," save to point out those things.

The story follows Joker's unexplained release from Arkham Asylum after having his entire crime empire cut up and dished out to the free crime bosses of Gotham City. What follows is his crazed but purposeful attempt to reclaim it through whatever means unnecessary, told from the point of view of an upstart young thug.

The story isn't bad, but it really bothers me that we never find out why the Joker is released. He convinced the shrinks that he was sane? Not explaining how is some lazy writing; granted, I'm not looking for another thirty pages, but some simple flashbacks of his therapy sessions would have been amazing for character development. Instead, the reader has to settle for the thug's interpretations of the Joker. And while, by the end, he seems to have the Joker figured out, along the way, it's kind of annoying to be reading a book about the Joker without getting into his head (such as in Moore's The Killing Joke).

The art is very interesting here. It goes back and forth between super-detailed with heavy-inked border lines and moody with shadowy water-colours. I'm still not sure if I like the flip-flop, though of the two, I prefer the water-colour effect (such as on the cover).

But what does it for me with Azzarello's crime novel is the ending. Batman shows up in the final couple of pages, and as the Joker's new lackey watches them go at, his commentary on the battle is both poignant for the story and timeless for the genre.
Rating: 7/10

Questions? Quibbles? Controversies?

Happy New Year! Happy New Blog!

Looking back on 2008, I can't help but be a little proud of the two major things that I accomplished: finishing my Masters degree in English Literature/Creative Writing and applying for, being offered, and accepting my first full-time, university teaching position. Simultaneously, I realize that despite my degree required I write almost 100 pages for my thesis and that I now teach others how to write, I have done very little writing for myself. In part, that is why I started my blog at The Daily Pugle on Blogger. Keeping a blog, in a way, forced me to write.

I had been editor-in-chief of my high school newspaper and planned on majoring in journalism as an undergrad. But recently I felt the push to get back into it. I began as a staff writer on my university paper as a grad student. However, that really only lead to a few hundred words of writing a week. And while I was writing about subjects that interested me--mostly video game, book, and movie reviews--it wasn't enough. A blog, though, would allow me to exercise my writing itch. And so I started the Pugle in July of 2008. Six months later and I still don't feel like I'm writing enough.

Granted, I've done better recently, reviewing almost every comic book I'm reading these days. But most books, movies, and video games I read, watch, and play, go uncritiqued. And that brings me to my other reason for blogging. I continually find myself frustrated with most reviews I read. And rather than continually complaining about it, as my wife Veronica will tell, was getting old. "Then write your own!" she would say. And that is where IGN.com came in. A fanboy's paradise for geeky news and a casual forum-like community seemed the perfect home for my blog, and originally, that's where it was going to be. And while I am a self-proclaimed video game/movie/comics buff, I'm also a university English teacher, a lifeguard, and a husband. In other words, I wanted my blog to appeal to all my sides and not just the nerdy one--though they are arguably all nerdy.

But with a drive to return to my original purpose for blogging without abandoning my original blog, I decided to start a sister-blog: The Daily Pugle--IGN Edition. My hope is that by joining a community that makes me want to write those pieces of criticism I'd set out to originally, I'll actually write them. And while everything I post on IGN can be found on Blogger, I'll be posting on IGN only those entries that are relevant to that community (in hopes for more feedback, as well).

So here's too a Happy New Year and a Happy New Blog!

Questions? Quibbles? Controversies?