Day: October 31, 2005

Since starting clock, I’ve noted the books I read. What is rare, for me, is starting but not finishing a book. Once I take the plunge, I will soldier on even through the worst writing and plot. Always. Well, almost.

Many, many years ago, on spring break in Floria, I started Gray Lady Down, by David Lavalle. I reached page 185, but then we left, and the book was property of the rental house we were staying in, so I left the book behind. And therefore a pretty normal submarine rescue thriller, later made into a movie I’ve never seen, became more memorable than many of the good books I’ve read, all because I didn’t finish it.

Recently, I pulled Lines of Fate, by Mark Kharitonov, off the shelf. This was a review copy I’ve carried around since 1995, when I picked it up at The Atlantic Monthly office. The dustjacket sold me, but when I finally started it a few week ago… well, too Russian for me. After twenty or so pages, I decided life was too short.

I have three or four other books that I have begun over the years, but still have yet to finish. My bedside table is a mix of what I’m currently reading, what I’m looking forward to read, and what I haven’t given up on… yet. Probably one category too many there.

Leading into the holidays, Mark Hurst releases another free Uncle Mark’s Guide, for 2006. Get the free PDF. Agree or disagree, Hurt tries to free you from the tyranny of choice. Trust him or not… I do, although the NYC-specific suggestion aren’t particularly helpful, personally.

Hellboy filled a quiet Saturday night. I think I need to stop the comic-book movie streak. This film wasn’t terrible. Still, I’ve never read the comic, so I hadn’t bought into the backstory or the characters beforehand. With other movies where I have read the comic, the background brings me into the film, and then I can compare someone else’s vision of the characters with my own. This time, I had to swallow the whole kit and kaboodle at once. With comic books, that can be quite a leap at times. Hellboy serves up a mix of Indiana Jones-like fight-the-Nazi-occult action with a more serious version of the Men in Black keep-the-Earth-safe-from-paranormals mission. Typing that is a mouthful… the movie does a better job, but it’s still just popcorn, nothing more.

Skipped Parts, by Tim Sandlin, goes in a different direction than many of the books I read. I asked Vin to share some light fiction. This novel wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. It’s sarcastic-funny, and a quick read. But when the protagonist is a thirteen year old boy, living with his twenty-eight-year old mother in “exile” from a domineering grandfather, family gets a whole new definition. I’m not going to continue reading the follow-on novels in the GroVont trilogy, but the diversion was welcome, even if it wouldn’t have been a choice I’d make myself.