Chapter Six: Odds and Ends

I haven't ACTUALLY finished reading anything since I reviewed The Brief History of the Dead, but I did want to make a couple of notes on some things I'm in the process of reading, and I think you should, too.

Gunnerkrigg Court by Tom Siddell: Ah, the wide and wonderful world of webcomics. Why do I like this one? Well, for one thing, the art is beautiful. It's almost cubist in nature - the angles are kind of boxy, things are a little pointy, and the whole visual scheme has a very post-modern, surrealist feel to it. But more than that, the art is whimsical and pretty; it's not vibrantly colored, but the palate is varied enough that it's always interesting to look at. Unlike a lot of comics, there isn't a huge chasm between the quality of the art in the first strips and the quality now. It has improved, but it was never bad.

The story arcs are fabulous. The whole story is set in a Western European boarding school situated across from a forest (think the Forbidden Forest from Harry Potter), and each arc contains an interesting fantasy story artfully entwined with the daily ministrations of main character Antimony, a student at the school. Tom's awareness of his characters' ages, and how they react to situations and still manage to worry about their homework (in a very non-trite fashion) is incredibly endearing. Each arc builds to its own crescendo and wraps itself up neatly, while also continuing to build on the ongoing plot and character developments.

Where Gunnerkrigg Court really pulls its own is in the characters. It has a very large cast, with members fluctuating in and out of storylines, but each one is very distinct and unique. They're all easily identifiable and enjoyable to read about, and each supporting cast member seems carefully chosen for their roles in the stories - they all serve a purpose. The main cast, Antimony and her constant companions Kat and Reynnard the demon, become more complex and interesting with every page.

OK, now that I've waxed poetic about a webcomic for way too long, I'd like to talk briefly about an intriguing wiki a friend of mine sent me called The Holders Series.

The Holders Series is trying really, really hard to be a post-modern, gothic horror story on par with House of Leaves. Visually, it resembles a wiki page, with a News front page and all the pices listed as articles after the introductory article. The general gist of the story is that there are a certain number of objects (538, but this appears to be mutable) that, if gathered together, something TERRIBLE and AWFUL will happen. Each object is currently in the possession of a Holder, and the Seeker (an individual who, for some unknown reason, is questing for all of the objects) must pass a set of trials and face the Holder; if the Seeker is successful, the object passes into their hands. If not, we are repeatedly told throughout each piece that insanity or some horrifying death awaits them.

The concept is interesting, and has the makings to be a pretty interesting story (I'm through maybe 50 of the short pieces). The problem is sort of inherent in the set-up: The Holders Series is almost mind-numbingly repetative. There is a set of guidelines for would-be authors (anyone can submit a Holders piece to be included, which presumably then goes through a selection process), which is something in itself that I support, but which places more limits on the potential pieces than I think the creators intended. Every single piece, for example, begins with the lines "In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself 'The Holder of '." "Mental institution or halfway house" are occasionally substituted for a morgue, or hospital (or a hardware store, in one of the more unique ones). So far, every single piece is written in second person. But my biggest issue is the repetatition of the trials the Seeker is intended to face.

There simply aren't enough synonyms for "insanity" to make it a more interesting by-product of failure. There are only so many hellhounds one can be chased by. In a huge number of these, there is a sound described as part of the background noise, and God forbid it should ever stop - something is guaranteed to rip the Seeker to pieces, or cause him to go insane, or something of that nature. Don't ever look at the walls! Don't look in their eyes! Don't sit down, don't stop walking! It's as though every individual who wrote one of these had the same idea for a mind-rending horror, and used it over and over again. After a while (and remember, I'm on 50 out of 538) it gets tiresome rather than horrifying.

So why am I still reading? The places where the authors' creativity really shines is in the objects themselves; they can be anything. Each one also has a bit of a tagline after it, a warning or somesuch - these are fun to read and make for neat little conclusions to the pieces. And, I suppose, I'm waiting for someone to break out of the box and write something that will really make my skin crawl. I'll keep you posted.

Chapter Five: The Brief History of the Dead

Ok, ok, I’m a bad blogger for not posting in a very long time. But look! I have a review for you!

I don’t know whether this counts as an alternative read, but since the only reason I’ve heard of it is because I went to the author’s reading when he visited Iowa City shortly after the book was published, I’m going to go ahead and say that it does. The subject for today’s review is The Brief History of the Dead, by Kevin Brockmeier.



I had trouble with this book. I had to set it down and walk away around the middle of it and gear myself up for the second half, for reasons I will explain in a moment. It’s not a long book (the paperback version is 272 pages), but it is a lot of work to get through – Brockmeier is quite irreverent when it comes to things like plot, choosing instead to focus on language and character. Both of which shine pretty well here.

The story of The Brief History of the Dead is given to the reader as a puzzle. First, Brockmeier introduces you to the City, which appears to be the place people go when they die. Not the final place, but sort of an intermediary location. The City functions like the normal world (except no one ever ages) – people work, they shop, go out to eat, hook up, etc. Next, we meet Laura Byrd, an environmental biologist working for Coca-Cola in the Antarctic who has been left by her two companions in their research station. They left to find help; the outside world is in a crumbling state of biological warfare and communications is in complete disrepair.

The two stories of the City and the people within, and of Laura in her journey to find someone else, anyone else, twist around and feed into each other, providing clues and insights into the world that Laura inhabits as well as the dead. When the City starts to drain of its inhabitants and those that are left start speculating about why certain people leave and certain people don’t, Laura has to come to grips with the certainty that she may, in fact, be the last person on Earth. It’s a beautifully told story that uses memory and nostalgic story telling to achieve a very haunting effect. Brockmeier composes sections of the book as though they are prose poetry; lilting images and lyrical syntax, especially when people describe how they got the City after their deaths. Those interludes were my favorites, because Brockmeier obviously took care to make each experience not only unique to each character, but to use it as a chance to reveal something intimate about each person. It's never obvious what he's revealing, but you do get the feeling of someone telling you an important secret about themselves.

Now, the reason I had to set it down for a few days was because I think that I went at it too aggressively. The plot here is secondary. The correct way of reading History is to let it flow over you, to accept the things you are told as they occur, and not to work too hard to find the plot. It’s there, but it’s very direct in a way that made me almost miss the subtleties; I am not used to having the actual plot laid so bare before me, because in this case it is not strictly the plot that’s important. It’s the little details: Brockmeier brings back the idea of small memories, the every day details, being the ones that stick, and it is the small details that come together to make the portraits of his characters so rich and full, and what gets at the story that is his true purpose.

Even the smallest secondary characters in History are lovingly crafted and fascinating to read about. There are the “main” characters, of course, Laura and a handful of people immediately connected to her, but there is also a little girl who greedily stuffs a candy stick into her mouth so she won’t have to share. And a doorman who keeps a silver crucifix around his neck. And a man who considers the city to be heaven, because after his suicide he found his wife and daughter there. The way that Brockmeier gets the passing descriptions to stick in your head is masterful.

The Brief History of the Dead is a worthwhile read, if you don’t mind having to work a little harder at a novel. Kevin Brockmeier is one of those rare authors that trusts his reader enough not to give them everything; instead, he places tantalizing morsels of personality and memory in front of you, trusting you to piece them together into his envisioned whole. Or maybe it’s a personalized puzzle, meant to mean something different to everyone. Either way, it’s worth every effort that you care to give it.