Posts Tagged ‘opinion’

Four Angry Robots

Wednesday, July 1st, 2009

Angry Robot is a new science fiction, fantasy and horror imprint from Harper Collins. Their first two books launch this week, with the next two arriving in August and, as a friend of mine is the assistant editor on the line I was lucky enough to be sent review copies of their first four titles; Moxyland, Slights, Book of Secrets and Nekropolis.

With the web now all but ubiquitous and Twitter beginning to crest into something genuinely fascinating, it seems eminently appropriate that one of Angry Robot’s first books is a remarkably tech savvy thriller with a very different perspective. Moxyland Book CoverMoxyland is set in Capetown, ten years into a future where connectivity and online communications has become something close to currency in its own right and being offline is tantamount to being an outcast. Toby, a slacker who toys with the underworld finds his life intertwined with Kendra, a woman so desperate to be accepted she’s become a sponsorbaby, a nanotech enhanced living advert. At the same time, Lerato, a corporate programmer who is as bored as she is brilliant and Tendeka, a revolutionary trying to bring down the corporate culture choking her hometown take actions that will bring them into the orbits of Toby, Kendra, and each other.
The genuinely difficult thing about near future science fiction is to make it both convincing and different. Don’t do enough and it becomes a contemporary thriller, do too much and it becomes dystopian science fiction. On top of that, the ghost of Blade Runner hovers like Banquo over the proceedings, daring authors to tilt at the definitive Cyberpunk windmill.
Moxyland avoids all those pitfalls due to three very simple, highly effective elements of the book. The setting is the first and most important, Cape Town becoming a vibrant, fascinating, evolving city that shares DNA with Blade Runner’s Los Angeles and Akira’s Neo Tokyo but is still a unique entity in its own right.
Secondly, the book is cheerfully pragmatic, the characters all flawed, normal people with the same concerns we have, albeit projected ten years into the future. These aren’t Cyberpunk stereotypes, strutting around, flexing their cybernetic angst muscles but normal, flawed, slightly desperate people. Finally, there’s the book’s cheerful, maniacal invention, taking in everything from the sponsorbabies to art with genetic structures and sculpted attack dogs. It’s a resolutely normal, resolutely different, fascinating world that Lauren Beukes has incredible fun showing to her readers. As debut books for both the author and the line go, this is as good as it can get.

Slights book cverSlights by Kaaron Warren is the latest in a series of novels which are slowly but surely rebuilding the horror genre as a rich, inventive field. Stephanie kills people. She’s very, very good at it and the fact she does it has never bothered her until now. Because Stephanie’s mother is dead, Stephanie almost died in the same accident and when she did, she went to a room fillled with all the people she’s ever killed. They bite and scratch and claw at her but she survives, only to become more and more obsessed with the room, the people in it and what it feels like to die instead of kill.
Slights is about as horrific as its possible to get, a novel that trawls the depths of human depravity to explore what happens at the edge of human understanding. Waaron has a keen ear for prose and dialogue and a very strong sense of the normal, making the horrific events of the book all the more unsettling. Where Moxyland drops you in at the deep end and allows you to swim to the edges, Slights holds your head under water until you almost black out, lets you up, then does it again. This is kitchen sink horror, pragmatic and savage, brutal and human all at once. This is a story the Man in Black would be happy to tell and I can think of no better praise than that.

Book of Secrets book coverChris Roberson’s Book of Secrets heads up the second pair of releases, scheduled for the 6th of August. Spencer Finch is a reporter searching for a book that everyone from cat burglars to monks seems to want. It’s a difficult case, a rabbit hole that he finds himself running headlong down and that appears to have something to do with a chest of golden age pulp magazines left to him by his grandfather. Something terrible is bound up in the book of secrets, and whether he likes it or not, Spencer’s life is intimately connected with it.
Expanded from Voices of Thunder, one of Roberson’s earliest novels, Book of Secrets incorporates many of the author’s favourite tropes. The love for golden age pulp is here as is the idea that books hold power, that ideas have weight and shape and form. It’s a fascinating book, paced at breakneck speed with a hard nosed first person narrative and some great offhand jokes. A lost Greek play is referred to as ‘No Mr Nice God’, armies of masked vigilantes parade across the page and the true history of mankind is revealed. Which isn’t bad going for a journalist who just wants to file a story.
The real star here is Roberson’s easy going prose, that carries some big ideas along with elegance and grace and places the story in a unique hinterland somewhere between steampunk and action thriller, weaving Spencer’s life into ancient Greek literature and the pulp stories written by his grandfather. It’s arguably the most commercial of the four books but that isn’t to say that it’s the least. This is a smart, literate thriller written by an author whose love for the form is clear.
There are a million stories in the dead city in the pit, a million lives and unlives powered by deceit and passion. Some of them get in trouble, some of them need help and some of them find Matt Richter, a private eye who is already dead himself.
Nekropolis book coverNekropolis by Tim Waggoner, does similar work to Roberson’s Book of Secrets in so far as it crosses genres. However, here the two genres are supernatural thriller and hard boiled crime, Matt Richter’s unlife owing as much to Raymond Chandler as it does to Mary Shelley. This is, after all, hell and Matt is not so much the Chandlerian ideal as a man trying to do in unlife what he tried to do in life; the right thing, no matter the cost. It’s a tough sell, bringing these two genres together, but Waggoner’s dark city of ash and bone is the perfect connective tissue for the story, raising it above cliché and into realms of surprisingly dark horror. This is the first in a series of three stories and I’m fascinated to see where Waggoner goes next.

A quartet of disaffected twenty and thirtysomethings, a serial killer who wants to die, a journalist on the trail of pulp history and a private eye deader than most murder victims. Four unique protagonists for four unique books, all of which bring something new to the table be it author, perspective or style. This is a great start for the imprint, a quartet of unique, fascinating voices that make a powerful statement about the imprint’s intentions as much as tell good stories in their own right. This robot should be angry for a long time to come and that does nothing but bode well for genre fiction.

(TV) The Landing, not the Take Off

Monday, January 12th, 2009

The hardest thing, a lot of the time, is not to know where to start but knowing where to end.  Big entrances are relatively easy to pull off, but big exits?  Leaving your audience wanting more?  That’s hard.  After all, openings have a natural structure to them, you introduce your protagonist, introduce the situation they find themselves in, their antagonist, their allies, the time and place and throw in a little drama.  Effectively you’re setting out the stall, showing people your wares and, provided you have a good grasp of your story it’ll go well.

Sometimes, if you’re very lucky or very, very good, then your opening is exceptional.  The first episode of The West Wing, for example, is a spectacular piece of drama for three reasons.  Firstly, the essence of the show is contained in it’s opening ten minute swoop through the lives of the White House senior staff, the graceful, almost balletic way that Leo Mcgarry coasts through his arrival at work and the way his massively intelligent, utterly broken colleagues all answer their call to arms.  This is the show, the movement, the dialogue, the big ideas and bigger personalities and the way they dance around one another.
Secondly, the cast is beyond exceptional.  There’s not a single bum note in the entire hour from the principle players, everyone from Jon Spencer’s charming, fiercely intelligent Leo to Richard Schiff’s quietly seething Toby Ziegler and Bradley Whitford’s utterly confident, utterly arrogant, utterly broken Josh Lyman are pitch perfect.  Even the guest stars work supremely well and by the time you get to the final scene, the President gently taking his staff to task and turning to face the affairs of state it’s somewhere between cheerfully triumphant and deeply moving.
The final and most important reason though is that every element of the series is in play from the start, some more than were initially apparent.  For all Aaron Sorkin’s statements that the series was never intended to be centered around the President and Josh Lyman it’s next to impossible to impossible to look at the first episode and not see seven years of Martin Sheen as the most intelligent politician the world has never had, not see seven years of Josh slowly becoming the man he thinks he is instead of the man he is.  An opening episode is a series in microcosm, a snapshot of the story as much as the gateway into it.

But what about the ending?  Having taken the toys out of the box, how do you put them back in?  To continue to use the West Wing as an example, the final episode, ‘Tomorow’ continues to split opinion, as do all the post-Sorkin years.  There’s no big moment of triumph, even in the inauguration, and as a result of that and the sense of the chairs being put on the tables and the lights turned out, a lot of people find it unsatisfying.  But in many ways it’s the perfect ending to the series, mirroring the personal crises of the first episode and bringing them into land.  The affairs of state are bigger than everyone, even Bartlet and as the new administration gears up, as characters move on to higher positions or leave the White House, that’s communicated with elegance and pragmatism.  In the beginning, Bartlet appears quoting the 10 Commandments and at the end he leaves thinking about the future he’s earned, the chance to not be the President, but to be Jed Bartlet.

But ‘Tomorrow’ continues to be the exception that proves the rule.  The Star Trek franchise is particularly bad at final episodes with Voyager’s ending laden down with a lumpen Borg plot and Enterprise’s a simultaneous slap in the face to fans of the show and the larger franchise.  Even Buffy, cult favourite as it is, is regarded by many, including show creator Joss Whedon, as having reached it’s logical end with the close of it’s fifth year, a full two seasons before it actually finished.  More recently, Lost, widely pilloried for treading water for much of it’s third year was allowed to set an end date and almost straight away became much more focussed, much more coherent.  An end is a start as the Editors might put it

Sometimes though, endings arrive a little sooner than expected.  A few years ago, Alias was one of Marvel Comics’ critical darlings.  Written by Brian Michael Bendis and drawn by Michael Gaydos it was the story of a third-rate ex-Avenger who was reduced to acting as a private eye, working on the streets as her former colleagues soared overhead.  It wasn’t a perfect title but it was consistently smart, funny, dark and marked the start of the company’s drift towards the very contemporary, politically charged work that’s the mainstay of the Marvel Universe today.

Then, one day, it ended.

Bendis freely admits it was the last thing he was expecting, but one day he got to the end of an issue script and realized it was the final issue.  He’d finished the story and once you write those last two words, two words that have more weight and gravity to any others, there’s no going back.

THE END

Bendis, and his boss, Editor-in-Chief Joe Quesada played it absolutely straight, cancelling the title and spinning Jessica, the main character off into a new series, The Pulse and later appearances in the Avengers family of titles.  The story had ended, there was no sense in stringing it out and they acted accordingly,

That’s an awareness, not just of text but of consequence that’s surprisingly rare in both TV and comics.  Sometimes you have to know when to get off the stage and sometimes that decision is made for you.

Grey’s Anatomy, for example, finished at the end of the fourth season and so far, no one on either side of the camera appears to have noticed.

The final two hours of Grey’s Anatomy’s fourth season, ‘Freedom’ are an unusual combination of the spectacularly goofy and some of the most needlepoint perfect character work in the last five years.  Mixed in around Derek and Meredith’s clinical trial and the desperately complicated, intricate attempts of the entire surgical staff to extricate a teenager from a block of concrete are quiet but definitive endings to every single character’s plot line.  Each relationship, each character beat is moved to a point where if the ending is not on screen, it’s certainly within sight.  George finally expresses his frustration and stands up for himself, Yang regains her confidence in the operating theatre and Meredith not only finally realizes her mother wasn’t suicidal but is given a chance to finally be with Derek and grabs it with both hands.  This level of resolution is everywhere, as Mark breaks up with Callie voluntarily so she can pursue a relationship with Hahn, the Chief finally asks for and is given forgiveness by his wife and in the closing moments, Izzy is given Denny’s Memorial Clinic by Bailey.  The show even ends with Bailey, literally, turning the lights off and going home.  It’s a genuinely beautiful montage, each character moving onto new things as, underneath it all Bryn Christopher sings ‘The Quest’ like he’s just been released from prison.  As final scenes go, it’s right up there with the final swoop through Cicely in Northern Exposure, the final moments of The Peacekeeper Wars, the wonderful and very odd final scenes of Due South.  This is a series that’s done and it makes sure everyone looks good on the way out of the door.

But it didn’t end there, and that’s the problem.  The fifth season has seen TR Knight, who plays George, asked to be released from his contract, Katherine Heigl finding herself in the middle of a plot that appears to involve Izzy having a relationship with Denny, her dead boyfriend who is haunting the hospital and Brooke Smith dropped overnight for, it would appear, being too good at playing Hahn, the lesbian character in a lesbian relationship she was hired to play.  The fifth season is indisputably in trouble and it’s difficult not to look at the perfect tie off to the show that season four offered as one of the reasons why.

In the end, it comes down to expectation.  Mulder and Scully have a potential romance and the series soars, Mulder and Scully become a couple and the series collapses.  The mystery of who will destroy New York powers one of the best opening seasons in history whilst the disaster being averted puts Heroes into a flat spin it may not recover from.  The story has to please it’s viewers and it’s creators and in the revenue driven world of network TV that’s very nearly impossible.  Get it right and you’ll be given your time on the spotlight, get it too right and you might not be allowed to leave again.
There are exceptions to this of course, with Bill Lawrence, creator and producer of Scrubs for example.  Lawrence, along with series star Zach Braff, is off at the end of this season but is quite open about how happy he would be for the show to continue without the pair of them.  His justification is simple; if the show’s on the air then a couple of hundred people are employed.  If it isn’t, they’re not.

There’s no easy answer here, no magic bullet to keep networks, producers, writers, actors and fans happy.  Some will want the show to last forever, others will want to wrap it up at set points and someone’s certain to go home unhappy.  The best that can be hoped for is that a series aims higher than it can reach, that in the end it knows when to leave the stage as much as when to arrive.