A heads-up for everyone in Vancouver that likes good comics, literature, art, design and non-fiction: the bookstore I work at, Sophia Books (450 W. Hastings) is having a 30% off sale on almost all of our English language stock (except magazines, language reference materials and tattoo books) right now until the end of May (or until we decide otherwise).

The wall of translated manga? Gotta go. Those Bukowski novels? Yep, on sale. That awesome typography book from Die Gestalten Verlag? That too.

So come on down and take advantage of us… er, I mean the sale, ASAP. ‘Cause you don’t want to get down here after all of the animation and design students have ravaged the stock and had first pick—that would be sad.

Aw, fuck. Yeah, I know he was 84. But he wrote one of those books that changed my life: Cat’s Cradle. That fucked all my brains up in Grade 8. I’ve read it at least once every two years since (and usually every year) and every time I get something new out of it; every time I find a new layer or nuance that I never saw before. And that’s to say nothing of the other books he wrote which also fucked my brains, but I could literally be here all night talking about that and chances are you already know what I’m talking about because he probably fucked with the way you see the world too.

In Cat’s Cradle, the central religion is Bokononism, and I think when I die, I’d like its last rites administered to me. In honour of the man and his life, I’m transcribing them here.

God made mud. God got lonesome. So God said to some of the mud, “Sit up!” “See all I’ve made,” said God, “the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars.” And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around. Lucky me, lucky mud. I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done. Nice going, God! Nobody but You could have done it, God! I certainly couldn’t have. I feel very unimportant compared to You. The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn’t even get to sit up and look around. I got so much, and most mud got so little. Thank you for the honor! Now the mud lies down again and goes to sleep. What memories for mud to have! What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met! I loved everything I saw! Good night. I will go to heaven now. I can hardly wait… to find out for certain what my wampeter was… and who was in my karass… and all the good things our karass did for you. Amen.

Amen. And good night, Mr. Vonnegut.

Boy, things have been busy for me in the past couple of weeks. Yes, the writing project is still taking up tons of time. It was supposed to be ready this past week, but plans got revised and scaled up and that basically meant revisiting previous plans and adjusting them accordingly. So, right now I’m figuring it’s gonna be another month or so ’til things are in place enough to start wildly blabbing about.

Aside from that there were two other things that loomed large on my personal radar:

1) Cory Doctorow:
On Thursday, Cory Doctorow of science-fiction authoring and Boing Boing fame came to speak at Simon Fraser University for their annual Leonardo Lecture. It was a riveting and timely speech entitled “The Totalitarian Urge: Total Information Awareness and the Cosmic Billiards” (which is online is audio form here) and the bookstore I am lucky enough to work at, Sophia Books, got to sell books at the event. So it was extremely gratifying to be able to help out and support the career of a writer/social philosopher that I respect very much. Even more gratifying was the fact that he is extremely personable, friendly and down to earth, talking to everyone and making himself available to sign books both before and after the speech. Nice guy.

But the REAL jaw-dropper came the next day when he dropped in to Sophia’s to sign some books for the store and chat. At the end of his visit, he presented my co-worker Sean and I with first draft print-outs of his next book, Little Brother, which he’d finished only two weeks before. THAT is fucking RAD. Categorizing the novel in broad strokes, it’s about the preservation of personal freedoms, hacking and being a teenager today. And it’s good. I was up ’til 5AM last night (this morning) reading it until I was in serious danger of passing out onto it. I’ll have finished it by tonight, and I’ll report back to you more tomorrow.

2) Saturday Morning Cartoon Party:
This is something I’ve been wanting to attend for a few years now but up ’til last weekend I’ve never had the chance (owing mostly to working shitty jobs that demanded I show up on the weekend). Every year, Toren Atkinson–extreme cartoon fan–throws a party wherein everyone shows up early in the morning and watches cartoons for several hours while ingesting all manner of sugary breakfast cereals (pajamas optional). Being the ‘toon fan I am, this year I booked off the date from any other engagements months in advance and Mrs. C and I made our way over to Toren’s house at around 8:15 or so, just in time for an episode of Galaxy Rangers, which was both awful and better than I thought it was going to be (since most things viewed through the rose-coloured glasses of childhood nostalgia are freakin’ AWFUL and you should take pains to avoid revisiting them if you have the chance).

Well, long story short, we were maybe the first to arrive and almost the last to leave (at just after 4PM). Our brains had melted and our guts were churning cauldrons of milk, refined flour and sucrose. I also managed to score a Darkest of the Hillside Thickets shirt I’ve coveted for years, so that was all to the good. In short, excellent times.

The crowning moment though (and I don’t care how sad you think this is), was the fact that after nearly two decades I finally got to satisfy one of my long-term junk food cravings: eating Frankenberry. Those of you who have constant and ready supplies of Frankenberry nearby are probably going, “EEEURGH! Why would you want to?!” Well, because it’s not available up here in Canadia (at least, not the part I live in). Here, it is a legendary foodstuff which apparently once roamed free in our breakfast aisles but was forced into extinction by General Mills. So, since my late teens, every time I went down to the States I’d poke around in supermarkets looking for it (as well as Squirt and Strawberry Powdered Quik–also not available in these parts), to no avail. But what should Toren manage to procure three boxes of? Yes, Manna from, well, not Heaven… maybe Albertson’s. Anyway, I got to toss back a few bowls of the stuff as well as one of Boo-Berry (although no Fruit Brute or Yummy Mummy, because apparently Toren isn’t cool enough to have access to a time machine). It wasn’t legendary tasting; my tastebuds didn’t explode with delight, but it certainly wasn’t bad and it was definitely satisfying. I even got to take a half-box home with me, so when the mood strikes me again I’ll be able to swiftly satisfy the urge.

Lately, there’s also the business of My Teeth:
A lucrative business, if you happen to be in the dentistry profession. The two fillings I got a week or so back cost me a grand total of about $50 or so after isurance kicked in. The four wisdom teeth which are getting extracted at the end of the month will cost about $1800+ upfront (and are probably only covered 50% by insurance). Plus, the two bottom ones are in DEEP, which means I’m recovering for 3-4 days afterward, and because of the scheduling I’ll have to take two days off work, which will cost me on my paycheque. So, yes: painful in a variety of different ways, and all the more ironic for the fact that they’ve never bothered me before.

Oh, and the Dishwasher:
We totally bought this dishwasher (it’s getting delivered later today), because Mrs. C and I are grown-ups now and we don’t have to our chores if we don’t want to. And we don’t want to–we want more time to do other serious grown-up things like watch cartoons.

In case you hadn’t heard the news, Cory Doctorow (who is one of the principal contributors on BoingBoing and has written several books) will be in Vancouver on March 8th and 9th. He’s doing a lecture at SFU on Thursday (the 8th), and will be at Sophia Books on Friday (the 9th) for a signing. Check out the poster below for more info, and I’ll see you there!

1) One of the best books I bought last year is Will You Still Love Me If I Wet The Bed? by Liz Prince. I swear, every time I pick it up I don’t put it down until I’ve read it end to end again. I also don’t stop chortling to myself until it’s done. The reason it’s so compelling (and funny), though, is that anyone who’s ever been in a relationship founded on doing incredibly nerdy and embarrassing things with their partner while no one else is looking (and sometimes even if they are) will see themselves reflected over and over again in its pages. And let me assure you from personal experience that it’s amazingly cathartic and satisfying to realise there’s other people like you out there… people who say dorky things while they surreptitiously grope their partner’s privates. Yes, both a cheap and side-splitting read—if you say no to that then you’re no fun and I don’t want to know you.

2) I got interviewed for an upcoming issue of Vancouver Magazine on the grounds that I’m an Asian hipster. Anyone who knows me will find that hilarious. I do.

3) While checking the stats on theg33k.com, I discovered that one of the search strings that led to it was “g33k = infinite beauty”. This is not only incredibly awesome, it’s also true.

I’m being less communicative lately because I’ve been writing. That’s a good thing. No, in fact, that’s a great thing. It’s really nice not only to have a concrete project to work, but to be doing it with one of my oldest friends. I know I keep teasing you with these extremely vague hints about this thing I’m doing, but you’d better get used to it—it’s still another three weeks and counting ’til launch.

Personal:
- Woke up this morning with Mrs. C back in town for the first time in several days. Took our time getting up and finally got our asses out the door and down the street for some pho and Vietnamese iced coffee. I’m sensing the start of a new winter tradition. Seriously, if you need a weekend pick-me-up on those grey Vancouver Sundays, coffee with condensed milk and a big bowl of steaming hot soup will do you just right.
- After that we went to T&T and bought Asian junk food (green tea chocolates! who knew?!) and Chinese New Year decorations. Now a magnificently gaudy golden fish filled with candy graces our coffee table. I have no idea what we’re going to do with it after the New Year’s rung in. What do you do with a giant plastic gold koi? Oh, we also got little drip coffee filters so we can make our own Vietnamese coffees without having to go up the street. So we can get wired in our own home. Ahhhhh.

Books:
- I usually really like the Culture Shock series. It’s a series of travel guides that’s pretty much only concerned with the culture, customs and etiquette of the various countries in question. And usually they’re pretty unbiased and even-handed—great for research and getting a feel for a place if you’ve never been. I’ve got to say though, the guy who wrote Culture Shock: China not only has his head lodged WAAAAAAAY up the Communist Party’s ass (please, please stop kissing Zhu Rongji’s backside—I understand you think the sun shines out of it, but honestly it’s getting tired) but he has some pretty odd conceptions about Asian history in general. Like the passage about Chinese Buddhism where he states: “From China, it passed over the eastern Seas to barbarous Japan where it civilised the unruly islanders and became known as Zen.” Riiiiiiiiiiight. So Chinese Buddhism is responsible for civilising the barbarous Japanese, huh? I’m glad there’s no bias in there. And I’m sure the Japanese would have nothing to say about your trite assessment of their culture.

Music:
-I had an awesome time the other night when my friend Billy came back to town. We went out for dinner (ohhhhh, minibrew beer) and drinks (ohhhhhh, single-malt scotch) and then wandered over to Pub 340 to watch her play a quasi-impromptu set. Billy and I go back several years—she played my 30th birthday party, which was totally the only way to get old—and I hadn’t seen her since she moved out east from Vancouver, so it was awesome to catch up. In addition, that night I also got to meet Devon (who was quite cool) and see Rio Bent, who are FUCKING AWESOME. Seriously, when you can rock that hard for a crowd of 30 people… wow. Anyway, yeah, Billy is one of the hardest working punks in show business, so be her friend on Myspace and watch her video:

Obituaries:
-Ian Richardson died this week. This will probably mean something to you if you watched a lot of BBC dramas and Shakespearean productions; it certainly means something to me. He is right up there in my esteem with Ian McKellen, maybe even a little higher thanks to his amazing performance as the one of the most Machiavellian bastards ever to hit the small screen—Francis Urquhart—in the House of Cards trilogy for Masterpiece Theatre. His Richard III was nothing to sniff at either. And, yes… *cough* … he was the Grey Poupon man. He will be missed.

You know, for all my g33kiness, I never got into hard sci-fi that much. I read fantasy, modern fantasy and less science-based science-fiction, but I never spent too much time reading books on interstellar conquest and colonisation. Now I’ve got a new project I’m working out the details for and, as a personal challenge to myself (since I’ve never played in this particular sandbox), I thought I’d try my hand at space opera.

So, with that in mind, I trotted down to my friendly neighbourhood used book store and traded in some old books for a few new ones. I picked up:

- Armor - John Steakley
- Ringworld - Larry Niven
- Janissaries - Jerry Pournelle

Now here’s my question to you–my local literary advisor (Chris Brayshaw of Pulp Fiction) has recommended Iain M. Banks and Alastair Reynolds to me as leading practitioners of the genre (and I will be picking them up at my earliest possible convenience), but do you have any favourites? Any authors or titles (new or old) that make you think, “Chris must read this if he is truly to understand the nuance of the space opera”? I’ve read the Wikipedia entry and it has a number of suggestions, but I want some advice from my trusted friends. Thank you.

EDIT: Mrs. C’s dad gave me some recommendations:

- Force of God and Anvil of Stars - Greg Bear
- Footfall and the Known Space series - Larry Niven

And my step-dad’s favourite series right now is the Honor Harrington books by David Weber, so I’ll probably be giving one of those a try soon.

I’m not setting a goal this year. There’ll be no “50 books by 2008″ or any such bullshit; I’m just going to read. However, I do think, simply for curiosity’s sake, that it would be interesting to keep a log of how many books I read over the course of 2007 (in full, mind you—no half-assed/half-read inclusions), with a brief rating (out of five) and succinct review. I’m including graphic novels in there because they’re books, and screw anyone who says differently. Do they tell a story? Are they bound? They’re books.

So, with that in mind and with the year a week down already, here are the first four out of the gate.

1) Charley’s War, V.1 - Pat Mills & Joe Colquhon (*****) An absolutely riviting and horrifyingly realistic depiction of life in the trenches during WWI. Anyone wanting a vivid summary of the horrors of war, the stupidity of the military and man’s inhumanity to man need look no further. Brilliant.
2) Pathfinder - Laeta Kalogridis & Christopher Shy (*) Vikings vs. North American Indians devoid of most necessary historical accuracies. Or a plausible plot. Infuriating and just generally awful.
3) DMZ: On the Ground - Brian Wood & Riccardo Burchielli (***) It’s Escape From New York for the 21st Century, and while that’s not a particularly original concept it’s solid writing (if not always spellbinding). For that and Burchielli’s evocative art (reminiscent of a less exaggerated Risso) I’ll read the next volume.
4) Whiteout: Melt - Greg Rucka & Steve Lieber (****) Greg Rucka is one of the most consistently amazing storytellers in the comic industry (and book trade) today, and Antarctic thriller Melt proves it again (though it came out several years ago) through fully realised characters and a razor-sharp plot. On top of that, Lieber’s amazing high-contrast art effortlessly recreates the South Pole. I want more Whiteout.

I just noticed that my copy of the Bible rests on my bookshelf between the Cometbus omnibus Despite Everything and P.J. O’Roarke’s Age and Guile Beat Youth, Innocence and a Bad Haircut. Make of that what you will.

Oh, God-fucking-DAMMIT.

Let me explain.

I’ve been a fan of Bernard Cornwell’s books for a couple of years now. I started watching the Sharpe movies (based on his Napoleonic era novels and starring Sean Bean) and after that it was all downhill from there (or uphill, considering he’d written a few dozen novels I could peruse with fresh eyes). He’s a brilliant author whose flair for conjuring vivid historic battle sequences (set in a variety of time periods) is unparalleled in my experience. Yes, he’s that good.

About a month or so ago I finally got a copy of Lords of the North the third novel in his new “Alfred the Great” series. I’d read the first book, The Last Kingdom, couple of years ago (it was actually the first of Cornwell’s books I read), but because it was amazing I wanted to wait until they were done before ploughing through all of them. I’d rather wait an extra year or two to read them all at once than sit biting my nails waiting for the next installment to come out.

So, a week or two ago, I sat down and proceeded to consume all three with terrifying speed and intensity. In all honesty, this is the first book series I’ve read in several years (probably since George R.R. Martin’s “Song of Ice and Fire” books) that I’ve forsaken sleep over, staying up until four or five in the vain attempt to “get my fix.”

Basically, the story, set in the late ninth century, is about Uhtred, heir to Bebbanburg, a fort on the Northumbrian coast (just south of Scotland). His father is killed in battle and he is taken by the Danes (who might improperly be called Vikings) and raised as one of them. He grows to become a man and finds he is not entirely sure where his allegiances lie (even though he is a Saxon, he has no love for them, and he loves his abductor Earl Ragnar as a father), and also finds that his destiny will lead him back and forth across England, always somehow intersecting with the destiny of the man who will become known as Alfred the Great.

Right. So, I made it to The Lords of the North a day or so ago, stayed up extremely late last night reading it and spent every spare moment today engrossed in its pages, trying to get to the end of the trilogy. Because it is a trilogy, right? WRONG. I don’t know where I got that idea from, but not only does it not wrap up neatly at the end of the third volume, not only is it not a trilogy, it’s a full-blown ongoing series.

And that is, I suppose, awesome, because they really are amazing books. But on the other hand:

FUCKING SHIT WHORE GODDAMMIT!

I need closure! Though I’m not going to get it anytime soon.

But at least I have something to look forward to now, other than Martin’s quasi-imaginary, I’ll-believe-it-when-I-see-it A Dance of Dragons. And ultimately, more books filled to the brim with full-on Danish badassery are always welcome.