Notes from a Hawaii girl in Brooklyn, Big Island to Long Island. Updates Sundays and Wednesdays. Weekly book reviews over at Big Island Rachel's Books.
"Why are we here? Obviously it's to suffer and die and create art." Neil Gaiman, 2010.
Last Tuesday, Neil Gaiman's new novel "The Ocean at the End of the Lane" hit bookstores. I was fortunate enough to be at the Brooklyn Academy of Music for a live reading, followed by a Q&A with the author.
If I could go back in time and tell my wee thirteen-year-old Big Island Rachel self that she would live to see her favorite author Neil Gaiman speak not just once, but twice, I'd slap myself at the decadence of the suggestion.
And then engage in a fight to the death, because I'd watched enough scifi at 13 to know that future selves are almost always Terminators.
Regular readers remember that I saw Gaiman speak at the New Yorker Festival in 2010, which is where I got that great quote above. The format of this event was a little different. Since he was launching a book instead of just rambling on (awesomely) about things that interested him, the setting was more formal and structured. The house lights were turned off like it was a proper performance, the Q&A session was much shorter, and at the end, instead of just coming down off the stage directly into the swirling crowd of his fans, he was shunted off to a little room to sign book after book for a massive line of people that went out the door of BAM, down the front steps, and wrapped around the outside of the building.
I didn't end up staying in that massive line to get my book signed. R and I decided by 9:45 that getting up for work the next morning was more important than standing in the rain for another three hours to get three seconds of face time with the author, so we just got copies of the pre-signed books and went home. Sometimes being a grown-ass woman means you have to sacrifice your nerd-cred for your career.
My boss told me I can't wear my Catwoman outfit to the office anymore. Sorry, Past Self.
We were both kind of bummed that we couldn't stay to meet Gaiman. R even had a hand-made mask she was going to give him, because Gaiman accepts tributes from fans like he's Lord of the Nerd-Manor, and I was going to take a picture of him wearing the mask to put on tumblr so everyone would be jealous. Oh, such plans we had!
But I got to see my favorite author read from his new book, talk about writing his new book, and tell a story about a teacup in the town of Gaiman, Argentina. Nothing about the experience was spoiled because I didn't actually get within spitting distance of the poor guy, who had already done a week's worth of publicity in England before his appearance at BAM and was leaving at 4AM the next morning for the American book tour.
Besides, as Peter Aguero said when he introduced Gaiman that night, "He's just a dude who wrote a book about sand."
Speaking of which, I'm reviewing "The Sandman" series over at Big Island Rachel's Books. You can read along with me!
This story begins, as so many of mine do, with a comic book.
The first comic book I ever read was "Sandman," by Neil Gaiman. I was thirteen, and "Sandman" not only started my love affair with the medium, it also started my near-obsession with this eclectic British author living outside of Minneapolis. He's written comics, adult books, young adult books, children's books, screenplays, songs, and poems. If I had to describe his work to others, I'd say he writes "fantasy," but that's not quite right. "Lord of the Rings" is fantasy; Harry Potter is fantasy. Characters and events in regular fantasy exist in universes separate but parallel to ours. But Gaiman's work is concerned with the twilight area where fantasy worlds rub up against the real world, and how things and people are changed by encountering that in-between space.
I can't overestimate how much Gaiman has shaped me as a writer and a reader. Put it this way: before I began reading his work, when people asked me who my favorite author was, I didn't have an answer. And while I am wont to exaggerate and tell bold-faced lies, I am telling the truth on this one. There was nobody before Gaiman.
Last Sunday, I saw him speak at the Director's Guild Theater in Midtown and thanked all the gods that ever were that I live in New York City. It was one of the highlights of my little life.
Gaiman is a fabulous public speaker. (I didn't care much for the woman who was asking him questions, Dana Goodyear, but she knew who we all were there to see and just stayed out of his way.) I took copious notes during his talk because yes, I am a MASSIVE nerd, and I'd like to now share with you some quotes from that magical afternoon:
"I know the Q&A part is going to be very intelligent, this being New York. Well, you all will ask intelligent questions. I'll just waffle. And you'll like it."
"I don't consider myself a prolific writer because I know prolific writers. Terry Pratchett, for instance, since getting Alzheimer's has only written 5 books." [Terry Pratchett was just diagnosed earlier this year.]
"I used to do most of my writing at night. After midnight, everyone in England would shut down, so I'd have to phone an American if I wanted to chat. But then I gave up coffee and cigarettes and failed at being nocturnal."
"America is very strange. Winter can kill you. And no one in the Midwest seems to have a problem with that. Do you people not know this is odd?"
"The universe is perfectly us-shaped."
About the night his Sandman comic "A Midsummer Night's Dream" won the World Fantasy Award. "There can be gradations of unique, damnit! And that night, I was very unique." [That's an English major's joke.]
"I feel bad at signings when I see people with those enormous "Sandman" editions, the dangerously huge books. The smart ones bring wheelie carts. Or children."
To the audience while introducing his newest short film: "Why are we here? Obviously it's to suffer and die and create art. But we're here in New York to screen my film."
About writing a Doctor Who episode. "I remember being three years old at school, and you'd get your one-third pint of milk and put your little bendy straw in it and go 'Exterminate! Exterminate!'" He did a great Dalek voice, too.
And then he signed my comic book. I got a little weepy. Massive nerd, I know. Heaven help us all when I get back from Comic Con this weekend.
On a related note, it's Gaiman Week over at Big Island Rachel's Books! My review of "Coraline" is up now, and will be followed by "Good Omens" (co-written with Terry Pratchett), and then, if there's time before Comic Con, "American Gods."
There's someone who comments on my blog in Japanese and I have no idea what he/she/robot overlord is saying. Anyone want to guess?
沒有經過反省的人生，是不值得活的人生 Getting into the meat of today's post, Happy Girls' Day! That's right, March 3rd (easy to remember, 3/3) is the Japanese festival of creepy little dollies, a celebration known as Hinamatsuri, or more commonly, Girls' Day. Traditionally, people bring out dolls dressed in the manner of the Heian court and set them up on special alters so they can, I don't know, admire their pretty, pretty dresses? I must confess, while I know a few things about Japan--enough to get myself in trouble, as my grandfather would say--the real meaning of this holiday escapes me.
That's why I spent my Girls' Day in the comic book store. A few of them, actually. I'm between temp jobs right now, so I've been taking the opportunity to jlang jlang in parts of the city I love but can't be bothered to visit when I'm slaving in the salt mines. Tomorrow I'll stay close to home and take pictures of some outdoor art around Columbia Street, something for all you true believers to look forward to, but today I took myself over to the East Village and irritated the holy hell out of as many bookstore clerks as I could. First I went to Forbidden Planet, which has the biggest selection and least irritable clerks of any of the stores on my list. No one has ever told me to stop reading the books, or to buy something or get out. I like them. I read "Transmetropolitan" volume 6, "Preacher" volume 6, and "The Authority" volume 1.
Then I went to the Strand. Not strictly a comic book store, but if you're advertising "18 miles of books," at least a kilometer of that better have speech bubbles and tastefully rendered blood spatter. One can easily get away with reading the wares in this store; it's huge and there's people everywhere. I read "The Midnighter" and half of "Persepolis" volume 2. Next, Shakespeare & Co. by the NYU campus. Their comic book selection is minimal, but they have chairs and I desperately needed to sit down. They also have a kitty! I read "Planetary" volume 1 and half of "Planetary" volume 2.
I've never been fond of St. Marks Bookshop. They feel snooty to me. Too many interior design books. And since they didn't have ANY comics, they barely deserve a mention in this post. I don't know why I brought them up at all.
And finally, St. Mark's Comics. The owner, Mitch, told me that he'd been on St. Mark's Place for 25 years, and he has another branch of St. Marks Comics out in Brooklyn Heights I've visited. However, this was where my freeloading luck ran out. No less than four clerks asked me if I needed any help while I was reading, and one finally asked me, quite politely I should add, not to read the books. I had to leave in shame quickly afterward and only got to finish half of "The Authority" volume 2.
The problem with me and comic books is that I can't afford to buy them. I know the weeklies are only five bucks each, but I prefer to read comics in the more-expensive graphic novel form, because I read really fast and I don't have the patience to wait two months for a story arc to conclude. This makes me the absolute worst comic book store patron: the one that reads all the comics and never buys any. This in itself is no mean feat. You try standing in the bookstore aisle for an hour and a half to read an entire book. My back is killing me, but I consider it penance for my bookstore sins. Believe me, Comic Book Stores, there's nothing I'd like better than to blow several hundred dollars on acquiring the entire "Sandman," "Transmetropolitan," and "Fables" library, thereby giving your establishment the means to distribute out-of-print "Tank Girl" issues.
I don't feel this same sort of guilt about sitting in a bookstore and reading, say, a novel or a book of poetry. You can't finish an entire novel in one setting, nor would you necessarily try. (I actually have sat in a bookstore and read a novel in one setting, but it gave me a bit of a headache, so I don't make a habit of it.) Novels can be enjoyed over several days, but a comic book is like a TV show: you want it all at once, not broken up and spread out over your week. Maybe it has something to do with the highly visual medium of both, I don't know. I process comics differently from the purely written word. I can feel it in my brainness. It makes me want to gulp down an entire graphic novel in one setting, like a raw oyster or a shot of whiskey. That actually sounds like a really fun evening: oysters, whiskey, and, oh, let's say the entire "FreakAngels" run.
But wait, I can't do that, because to buy Warren Ellis's "FreakAngels" would cost me at least $80, and, here's the part that REALLY pisses me off, I CAN'T BORROW IT FROM THE LIBRARY! Libraries rarely bother to put comics in their catalog, and if they do, they never stock the entire run. I remembering being in middle school and tearing my hair out for weeks because the Hawaii library system only had nine of the ten "Sandman" volumes. "Sandman" is a complete story, not an ongoing title like "Batman," so not having one volume was a big effing deal. It was like someone razoring out chapters of a novel I was reading. I don't blame the libraries; they're always strapped for cash and I feel their first duty is to provide the community with quality literature and clean bathrooms. If there are comics in the library, it's because some enterprising young librarian snuck the titles in under the radar, and bless those bibliographic guerillas for keeping the revolution going.
This is why hard-core comic book collectors live in their parent's basements, by the way. The only way to actually read comics with any sort of continuity in mind is to buy them, because the libraries don't have them and the comic book stores won't let you read them there. Never mind true dedication to the art form, someone with even a moderate interest in comics would have to nearly bankrupt herself just to read a complete run of a single title.
What someone really needs to do is start a comic book lending library so I can check them out whenever I want and not have to stand in the aisle and piss off the store clerks just because I want to see a big guy in a black duster punch a hole through somebody's chest cavity.
Sadly, that image wasn't available. But this one is just as memorable. Ha! Suck it, censorship.
