On Zombie Love and Paranormal Bromance

In most bookshops these days, the horror section barely deserves that name. It might have a little Stephen King in there, maybe a handful of other authors, and then shelves and shelves of paranormal romance. If this is your kind of thing, then there's no problem. As for me, I'm a little bit over it.

I'd like to see vampires and werewolves return to being creatures of horror first and, if they really, really need to be, sex objects second. As this probably won't happen anytime soon, let's see if we can't shake the genre up a little bit instead!

Where's the love for zombies in all this? All the girls seem to throw themselves at the closest vampire or werewolf, leaving the poor zombies shuffling around aimlessly. Poor guys! Zombies can have feelings too. Sure, this feeling is mostly hunger, but they hunger for you ladies!

Zombies are extremely loyal. Once they're with you, they will follow you around wherever you go for the rest of your (possibly short) life. They won't complain about the destination. They won't grumble about how you seem to want to walk ahead of him, rather than with him. You are everything to the zombie. He wants to be wherever you are, no matter what.

The zombie is also a very romantic being. Zombies believe in and embrace the notion of love at first sight. Yes, your body is the first thing a zombie notices. But, in the end, a zombie will always love you for your brain first and foremost.

A zombie will always be happy to introduce you to his friends, and as soon as possible too. He will also be perfectly fine sharing you with his friends. But, that's your choice. I won't judge. Much.

A zombie just wants to hold you really close and squeeze you tight. Tight enough that you cannot escape, and close enough that he could eat you if he wanted. But there's nothing to worry about. The monsters in paranormal romance aren't ever actually dangerous. Right?

See? Zombies would fit into the genre perfectly! And do you know what else would be good for the genre? How about a paranormal bromance?

Alex and Steve are the best of bros. They do everything together. They struggle to get their rock band off the ground. They party hard together. Almost all their free time is spent doing something together. They live within walking distance from each other. They work for the same company. They're both even dating twin sisters. They've been inseparable since they first met at school.

One night - a very fateful night of course - they are both out at a party. As the party draws to a close, Alex and Steve decide to leave, walking together back to their homes. They reach the point where they have to part ways and farewell each other with a manly bro hug.

When they meet again, nothing will be the same...

Alex, on his way home, is attacked and turned by a vampire. Steve, on the other hand, finds himself bitten by a werewolf. He then slowly starts to become one himself. Of course, vampires and werewolves are bitter, ancient enemies. And so, the next day at work...

Excited to share the news of their transformation, both Alex and Steve hurry to find the other. Their excitement quickly turns to sorrow as they realise they are now meant to be hated enemies. Can they overcome the hatred of their races and remain bros through it all?

Is this not the Romeo and Juliet of bromances?

And so they're my ideas to refresh the genre a little. If anyone is interested in purchasing the rights to these, I'm open for negotiation!

On Terry Goodkind's The Omen Machine

A brief warning. This blog post will likely contain minor spoilers for the Sword of Truth books, and bigger ones for the new one, The Omen Machine. You have been warned.

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Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series is one of my favourite series of fantasy books. When I heard the news he'd be writing more books in this series I was, of course, quite excited. I always enjoy the opportunity to return to the fantasy worlds I enjoy and the characters I've come to know.

Now I wish he'd just left it as is.

If I was Terry Goodkind, I'd be embarrassed to have my name on this book. It doesn't feel like a Sword of Truth book. The original eleven were deep, moving, epic fantasies. Characters were well developed and likeable and the plot was well thought out. They were well written, adult fantasy tales.

The Omen Machine, on the other hand, seems more akin in writing style to a young adult fiction. Not the adult oriented style we've come to expect. The Law of Nines, his last book, was also in a different style. However, The Law of Nines was also a different style and genre of book altogether, and this style seemed to suit it. It doesn't suit the Sword of Truth.

Not that I mean to imply young adult fiction is poorly written. Not at all. There's plenty of respectable books in the young adult market which are good for any audience. The Omen Machine, however, would not be one of these.

It seems to me that Goodkind has forgotten his characters. Zedd didn't come across as the smart, eccentric wizard that he is. The Mord Sith didn't feel like Mord Sith. Cara's wit, while still present, didn't seem as, well, witty. Kahlan didn't seem to be as strong a character, and Richard seemed to have lost a large chunk of intelligence.

The plot, also, seemed frail in comparison to past books. Basically, Richard and co. receive a number of confusing prophecies. They later stumble across a machine which seems to be issuing these prophecies. They get confused by the predictions of this A.I. and bumble around like fools trying to work out what it's talking about. They, of course, never seem to work out the prophecy until after the prophecy has happened, by which time it's too late.

In one of the most frustrating moments of the book, the machine finally issues a prophecy regarding Kahlan. The prophecy explicitly implies that Kahlan is in mortal danger, yet Richard just doesn't seem to get this, and barely takes any extra steps to protect her. This then leads into the books rushed, and rather unsatisfying conclusion. Though, in all honesty, rushed conclusions are hardly anything new for Goodkind.

I've never been much of a fan of how Goodkind writes about prophecy either. He just seems to unnecessarily over complicate it for no good reason. With prophecy being at the forefront of this new book, it just serves to bug me even more. As much as this is a personal gripe, it still doesn't help the book any.

Length is another thing where this book doesn't hold up. On a page by page count, sure, it matches his others. But, taking into account spacing and words per page, this is much shorter. I'd estimate at a little over half the length. The chapters are shorter too. One chapter in The Omen Machine when spaced out as in, say, Wizard's First Rule, would probably only take up two or three pages.

If only quality over quantity was applicable in this case.

I found myself skipping over large chunks of this book as well, as I found it uninteresting and repetitive. Quite often the characters would seem to be having conversations that they'd already had a handful of chapters ago. Or there would be long, detailed explanations from one character to another of facts they should already know.

I don't get it. I know Goodkind has the talent. It just feels like he's been lazy with The Omen Machine. Like he just got a book out for the sake of getting one. Like he has made his riches off the original eleven, and the television series, and knows that a new book is going to sell well, no matter how terrible it is. I feel extremely let down by Goodkind with this book.

It's not over either, I'm sure. The tale was left open enough for there to easily be at least one more book. I can only hope that any future books are more worthy of the Sword of Truth legacy.

In favour of the book though, it did introduce a new villain, who I feel has potential. The chapters introducing him were among the more interesting of the book. One character isn't enough to save a book, however, so hopefully he picks up his act again for future books.

The Embrace

I'm working on a short story at the moment, which I hope to have finished, cleaned up and in a state I'm happy with in a week or two. Like most things I write, it's had a couple of false starts. Below is one of these starts which I ended up scrapping.

Why did I scrap it? It didn't quite have the mood I was aiming for. My influences, I felt, were a bit too obvious to those who know them. Above all, however, it just didn't feel quite right to me.

I still liked it, however, so thought I'd share it with you. It does end rather abruptly, I'll admit, so you've been warned. Just consider it a little teaser for the complete story, coming soon. Anyway, read, hopefully enjoy, and I always care for feedback!

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A fading light as I was held,

A dying hope within.

As my tale ended,

So a new one did begin.

As one world faded, a new one did arise;

And so I saw the sails of darkest gray.

Sails that I’d long dreamed of seeing,

I reached for them, yearned to be carried away.

            Motionless. Not a thing stirred. No movement, no sound, nothing at all. Where moments before a battle had raged, the land now stood still, seemingly untouched. The clashing armies gone as though they’d never existed, the carnage of the fight only in the memories of the dead.

            The dead. For they were the only evidence that anything at all had happened. Countless bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, the method of their partings obvious from their state. Wounds from swords, from arrows, marked their passing. Yet there was no blood, not amongst the dead where they lay as still and quiet as the rest of the world.

            Time. There was no way to measure it’s passing. The sun hung in the sky, stuck in place and as motionless as everything else. The days did not pass, did not give way to night.

Still the sun’s light spread over the world, yet it didn’t bring colour or brightness. The dead world was a mere shadow of that occupied by the living. The scenery seemed touched by grey, lacking vibrancy. Truly, the world was devoid of life, of sound, of anything.

As still and motionless as the world around him Arthan took it all in, yet it meant nothing. He lay amongst other bodies, as lifeless as his own. He didn’t move, could not, nor could he feel. But yet he was aware. Aware of the shadowy, almost mirage like world around him. Aware of the gaping wound in his chest that had ended his life. Aware that nothing around him was moving, the stark contrast to his last memory.

Memories. He still had them, and that was something. He held onto them as though they could save him from this bleak, desolate land. He became lost in them.

Meeting. Eyes across a crowded room, as though in a story. He approached her as she smiled coyly at him.

Connecting. He introduced himself. Arthan. She responded in turn. Nerie. They spoke long into the night.

Wishing. She was all he’d ever wanted. He wanted to be with her, could think of nothing else.

Hoping. He hoped she felt the same; desired it with all his being. As they finally parted ways that night, they promised to meet again.

That night, a seed had been sown in their souls. It took root and grew, blooming into a flower the more they met. He held onto these memories as a light against the dark world he was now in.

Embracing. He remembered holding her against him and never wanting to let her go. Quiet times spent, just the two of them.

Kissing. Her lips against his. The joining of the flowers growing within them. He treasured her, treasured these moments.

Loving. Like nothing he’d ever felt before. They were the only ones for each other, and they both knew it.

Promising. To be together forever. They vowed themselves to each other, and neither dreamed of breaking.

It wasn’t to last. When the world moved against them, their promises weren’t strong enough to last, though the feelings didn’t weaken. Arthan remembered Nerie asking him why. He wanted to protect her and didn’t want anything to hurt her.

“Because I love you,” was his answer before leaving for the war.

Bleeding. As men fell around him, the ground beneath his feet was soaked in red. He tried not to think of how much he was responsible for.

Screaming. The noises of the battlefield. It all merged into a thunderous cacophony within, drowning out any thoughts and all but the most basic of instincts. To survive.

Suffering. Without her he felt incomplete, as she knew he would back at their home. Yet she was why he was here. There was no turning back.

Hating. This time apart, he wanted it to be over. Yet he couldn’t forgive those that threatened her safety.

Dying.

“Rise.” A single word, yet so sudden and powerful he couldn’t resist. It broke through Arthan’s memories and drew him back to the bleak world he now occupied. He was no longer lying down yet he could not recall moving. He gazed downwards, looking into his own lifeless blue eyes. Removed from his body, he now saw himself as he imagined others would have. Neck length light brown hair, messed up from the chaos of battle, sat on a face twisted in pain.

Movement in front of Arthan drew his attention away from his body. Standing before him was a figure, draped in a thick, black cloak. A black hood was pulled over his head, obscuring his face. In the entire world, he was the only moving thing Arthan could see. The figure seemed more solid, more real, than everything else around them.

“I see now. I understand,” the figure laughed a little, “It all finally makes sense.” Arthan detected both relief and amazement in the figure’s voice as he spoke.

“I’m sorry?” Arthan asked, taken aback. The figure ignored him, however, and turned his attention to another body lying on the ground.

“Rise, he commanded once more.

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Yup. That's where it ends. Be patient with me. The completed one shall be up soon.

On Books

I'll be honest. I'm quite amazed at myself that I haven't done a post relating to books at all yet. Considering I work in a bookstore and I love reading and writing, it seems like an obvious topic for me. Well, let's fix that up then!

I shall add a section for books up the top there, (Have you seen my sections yet? Aren't they fancy?) and probably talk about books I've read or stuff to do with the industry in general. I think I'm going to start with a bit on eBooks.

I think, love them or hate them, eBooks are just going to get bigger and bigger. Amazon keeps pushing their Kindle Reader and devices like the iPad support eBook formats too. It's becoming easier and easier for people to read like this each day.


I don't like them. It's not that I've really got anything against them, they're just not for me. I can see the advantages to them, and I can see why people would want to own one. If you're travelling, carrying a Reader around is easier than a bunch of books. eBooks, I believe, are generally cheaper than a physical book. For students as well, I'd much rather be carrying around a Reader than big massive text books all day.


But, there's just something about reading a book off a screen that doesn't feel right to me. I know they've tried to emulate ink and paper on the readers, but it's still not the same. Given the choice between reading from paper or from a screen, I'd always choose paper.


And what about having a library? A folder full of eBook files is never, ever going to be the same as having a room with shelves and shelves full of books. There's just something special about owning a book that is never going to be matched with an eBook.


I don't see an eBook ever being convenient to flick through either. Books you can easily flick to a certain page you need, and jump back and forth with relative ease. I could be wrong, and correct me if I am, but I'm not sure eBook Readers can match this yet.


The main point is that there's something about books that a file on a Reader isn't going to be able to replace. For that reason, I do hope that the book continues to hang in there for a long, long time. I won't deny that eBooks are going to continue growing, and I agree that there are advantages to them. Heck, it could easily open the doors to make it easier for authors to self publish, which I think could be a really good thing.


For now though, I don't plan on getting an eBook Reader until there's no more alternative. What are your thoughts?

On Europeans and English

If there's one thing that amazes me, it's how modest so many Europeans from non-English speaking countries are about their English. I can't count the number of times I've seen a perfectly articulated post somewhere, ended with something like; "sorry about my bad English, I'm from...". Even when having a conversation with someone from one of these countries it happens. Part way through they'll apologise for their bad English, leaving me baffled about what part they think is bad.

Then you go and compliment them on their English. Some are in denial thinking you're just being nice. Some get bashful. Others get really happy that you think their English is good. In the end though, they're all still just so modest about it all. If I could speak a second language as well as they can, I'm sure I'd be showing it off. It's a skill to be proud of.

Another thing that fascinates me about this. Quite often, amongst all the posts in a comment thread or similar, these are some of the better written ones. On the other hand, so many native English speakers only manage to prove that they should have paid more attention during school. So why, when native English speakers are so callous about the language, do non-English speakers bother to apologise?

Is it a matter of respect? Do native English speakers take it for granted, while learners develop a respect for it through learning it. I somehow feel that Europeans must have a greater respect for language over all. It's not uncommon for many Europeans to be fluent in two or three languages, and to know enough in many others to get by. Most native English speakers can't really claim the same. Perhaps a greater knowledge of languages helps develop a greater respect for them too.

Anyway, that's just a little theory. I think it's interesting to think about, how the different approaches to a language could influence how someone treats it.

But to the Europeans out there for whom English is a second language; don't worry so much. In the majority of cases I've seen, your English is totally fine. Sure, it's not always perfect, but it's still often better than what a lot of native speakers produce. And when mistakes do happen, most of us understand that it's not your first language. You've got nothing to be sorry for.