John Shirley is a master of horror, cyberpunk, and science fiction, but what do these genres have to do with video games? As it turns out, a lot.Read More...
More book reviews soon, promise! But first, a question.
Also, check out Dana Fredsti’s newly revealed cover for Plague Nation (coming in April of next year). I can’t wait! If you haven’t read the first book, do yourself a favor and move this one to the top of your pile.
Here’s my interview with Dana.
As you might guess from that mouthful of a title, Joss Whedon: The Complete Companion* spans the creator’s biggest productions and a number of smaller topics, such as his foray into comic books and his (returning) screenwriting days. It’s also a mammoth book. A good whack with this thing will knock a vampire right out.
Anyone who plucks down $18.95 or less will be getting exactly what they pay for: a whole lot of Joss Whedon, presented as a series of essays … after essay … after essay. The Complete Companion isn’t serious, dry-as-sand academic writing, but it is formatted that way, and that sensibility shows in some pieces more than others. You’ll likely fluctuate from bored to fascinated with each new read. Whatever your interest level or preference of writing (occasionally you’ll encounter an essay that’s bogged down with verbose and weighty language), the book caters to a variety of tastes and topics.
The Complete Companion covers it all: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly and Serenity, the comics (including ones you might not have read), Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, Dollhouse, and finally Whedon’s films (counting those that came before he was famous). It’s a lot of reading, but even seasoned fans will learn some new insight or secret from behind the scenes.
But be warned: This book is laden with spoilers. If there’s absolutely anything you haven’t seen to completion but plan to, skip the entire section and return to it later. The editor didn’t censor the plentiful essays, so there’s no avoiding discussion of crucial scenes, characters, and plot points.
Luckily for me, I’ve already exposed myself to most of Whedon’s work, so I could handle the contents. Joss Whedon: The Complete Companion is a deeper look at the world of Whedon, but for the fan, it’s strictly post-show and movie-watching/comics-reading material.
*This book was provided for honest review courtesy of publisher Titan Books.
Yesterday I reviewed Dana Fredsti’s Plague Town—out today from Titan Books. I was offered a chance to speak with the author about her new zombie book and how her exclusive background in horror influenced its writing.
Dana Fredsti: Hi there, and thank you for having me here! Plague Town is my take on the start of the Zombocalypse experienced from the point-of-view of a twenty-something, divorced liberal arts major who has no idea what to do with her life until she’s attacked and bitten by zombies and discovers she’s one of a very small percentage of the population who is immune to the virus. This puts her and her fellow “wild cards” in the unique position of being able to fight the undead hordes without fear of infection. Wacky—and gory—hijinks ensue.
There’s a lot of zombie stuff out there—from movies to video games to television shows. What made you want to write a series of zombie novels, and how is Plague Town different from its peers?
Oh, I could go on at length here … First of all, I am not one of those people who think that zombies have “jumped the shark.” Folks like me (people who have been total zombieholics since the early ’80s) have been waiting a long time for zombies to get even a little of media exposure of their hairier and fangier cousins. And I don’t see any end to werewolf and vampire novels any time soon. Not even taking into consideration the variations writers and filmmakers have been coming up with on the original flesh-eating ghoul “theme” started by the Father of All Zombies, George Romero. The best of the books and movies are as much (if not more) about the characters and human relationships as they are about people getting their intestines pulled out. So … maybe I should answer your question now.
I was approached by Lori Perkins with Ravenous Romance to develop a series of books that were “Buffy … except with zombies. And different.” I said yes ’cause … well, zombies! The series was then sold to Titan Books, and I worked very closely with my Dark Editorial Overlord, Steve Saffel, to tone down the romance, tighten up the pacing, and bridge the gap between readers of paranormal romance and the zombie genre. Plague Town is unique in that it probably has more humor than your average zombie novel, and has one of the few female protagonists in the genre to this point. I think my narrative voice (okay, Ashley’s narrative voice) makes it stand out as well. There are some other elements I think are unique, but talking about them would be major spoilers at this point.
“But all you need to remember is that both Ripley and the cat survive.”
You know those books that grip you with a good story and refuse to let you do anything short of devour it? Few manage to truly and honestly marry me to their pages regardless of their literary merit or how well they’re written. Plague Town is one of those books, and not only is the prose good, but it’s seasoned with a dash of steamy romance and an excellent sense of originality and pacing. In other words, it survives the zombie apocalypse in style.
Plague Town, by Dana Fredsti (@zhadi1), is a zom-rom-com-dram (yeah, I totally just coined that). Translation? It’s a zombie romantic comedy/drama, and you’ll want to read it in as few sittings as possible. Seriously, this book pulled me in hard like a ravenous zombie.
Fredsti (as you’ll learn tomorrow, when I post a special interview with the author) is no stranger to zombie fiction or pop culture, and she infuses that knowledge into her story every step of the way. She has an enviable knack for precise and energetic writing, and she builds characters very well. So well, in fact, that Lily (one of the best in the book) became the little sister I never had. That’s how vividly I could imagine her character.
The author also knows sex—and it shows. The romantic involvement in the book does take a backseat to the zombie invasion, but when it’s pushed to the forefront, it’s not cheesy or tacky or embarrassing. It’s honest-to-goodness sex, and Fredsti writes it like a pro.
But back to the pop culture familiarity. Fredsti never skips a beat, constantly making fun references to actual horror lore through the eyes of her quirky main character, Ashley Parker (who is awesome, and not just because she’s a girl). The world knows about zombies the same way we do, and when the outbreak happens, this little detail spares the reader from the downtime of exposition—the kind that drags its feet as slowly as the zombies do.
(Fredsti even throws in a subtle nod to Max Brooks’ World War Z with the occasional mention of “zeds.”)
Because so much already exists as groundwork, the story is more believable and appreciable as an addition to the media’s ongoing fascination with zombies—from The Walking Dead on AMC and in comics to video games (Yakuza: Dead Souls is a recent goodie) and countless movies, etc. etc. Plague Town uses them all as a stepping stone to a greater telling because it acknowledges and at times incorporates their own contributions.
Plague Town unravels military secrets and pours on the blood, just like you’d expect. It also compensates for why some people (I can’t help but think Resident Evil here) can withstand zombie attacks without actually turning. The book answers mystery this with “wild cards”: humans like Ashley with an immunity to the zombie virus, giving them enhanced abilities and a better chance at survival after their resistance is activated by an otherwise deadly zombie bite. Of course, they’re still prone to death by mauling, but otherwise they can take all the nips and bloody goo that might come their way.
All while reading this, I thought how awesome it would be if Fredsti expanded the book into a series. Because I couldn’t get enough of it or her writing, and it’s not often that I’d commit to a sequel immediately after finishing a book. But guess what? Two more books, Plague Nation and Plague World, are forthcoming.
*Plague Town will be available starting April 3. Thanks to Titan Books for the advanced copy! Stay tuned tomorrow for my interview with author Dana Fredsti.
This script is perfect. Who can we get to rewrite it?
In his newly updated book, David Hughes gives more than a tourist’s definition of the dreaded “Development Hell.”* Like Bilbo Baggins, he’s been there and back again, and his difficulty in slaying the dragon—getting a movie made and in theaters—is a problem that plagues amateur and seasoned writers, producers, and directors alike. Tales from Development Hell: The Greatest Movies Never Made? is a insider’s guide to Hollywood’s rejects, flops, and almost-weren’t—and more so, Hollywood itself.
Like Vern’s Yippee Ki-Yay Moviegoer!: Writings on Bruce Willis, Badass Cinema and Other Important Topics (also from Titan Books), Tales from Development Hell (the expanded version, out today) belongs in every cinephile’s collection. It profiles some of the hottest movies in years, beginning with their conception and detailing their progress and devolution from brilliant scripts to idiot rewrites, thrown about by bossy studio executives and moody actors. Most chapters strike a relevant note. For example, the Planet of the Apes story ties in nicely with the recent Rise of the Planet of the Apes movie starring James Franco, and Lady Croft’s big screen adventures are ripe for renewal now that Crystal Dynamics is prepping a total reboot of the video game series Tomb Raider. Hughes includes household names such as Indiana Jones and lesser known curiosities like Isobar, a broad selection certain to deepen the knowledge of any movie lover. Hughes even ends the book by describing his own excursions into Development Hell, reiterating the idea that regardless of a script’s quality, Hollywood is as Hollywood does.
That’s the most valuable asset of Tales from Development Hell: what it bares about Hollywood. From the outset, Hughes explains the process of filmmaking behind closed doors—a needlessly lengthy, overly complicated mess from start to finish, even in the best cases. While he doesn’t sound cynical, he isn’t exaggerating, either. Hughes supports his claims with 200+ pages of evidence that show how Hollywood dirties the handiwork of others, bringing in writer after writer, director after director, and actor after actor until the script either winds up in the trash bin or on the desk of someone who knows zilch about the project, reducing the finished film to a tenth of its original glory. That’s movie-making in a nutshell. Everyone blames the writers and often neglects to pay them for their numerous drafts. Meanwhile, actors push for fatter paychecks and meatier roles, occasionally arresting the entire development of a film. And studios turn down elegant scripts for ones that they think will resonate better with audiences—99% of the time for misguided reasons.
Tales from Development Hell teaches a brutal lesson to aspiring filmmakers and screenwriters: Even if your movie isn’t totally incinerated, you might have to trek through the bowels of Hell just to get it made. So the next time you criticize a movie for its untimely appearance, its poor writing, or even if you’re commending it for its success, keep in mind all the work—and conflict—that was dumped into it. The story is much bigger than you might think.
*This book was provided for honest review courtesy of publisher Titan Books.