Happily, I recently came across two excellent new documentaries that try to explore interesting topics and not just hit you over the head with ideology.

Last Train Home is an exploration of one of the largest human migrations ever. Every year, during the New Year’s holiday, 130 million workers in cities all over China return to their families in the country side. This is a monumental event, but the director, Lixin Fan, doesn’t examine it from the top down. Instead he records one family’s participation over several years. There is no narration to guide the viewer, but very soon you get immersed in the story of the Zhang family.

For 16 years both parents have been working in a garment factory to support their family. During all that time they have only been able to visit their children during the New Year’s holiday. The tension during these visits, not to mention the herculean labor of getting home, is intense. Add their teenage daughter Qin, who resents her parents’ absence and their emphasis on education, and you get a combustible mix.

Last Train Home offers no easy answers. Instead it allows you to take a peek into a different world and get immersed in a family’s struggle to survive.

Using a similar approach, A Film Unfinished examines a huge historical event, the Warsaw Ghetto, by focusing on the smaller details. In this case, the small detail is an unfinished propaganda film that the Nazis made in the Warsaw Ghetto just weeks before deportations to the death camps began. While the unfinished film was discovered in an East German archive after the war, another reel of outtakes came to light in the late 1990s.

Through interviews with survivors, testimony of one of the photographers and the disturbing outtake reel, A Film Unfinished does more than just document a historical incident. It illuminates the lives of those who lived through, and some who took part in, a pathetic attempt to obscure a horrible truth. This film is all the more powerful due to its refusal to offer a simple explanation of events. The viewer has to create any meaning or reasons why.

So take a chance and skip the partisan lecture the next time you watch a documentary. Your television will thank you.

Richard

Without planning to, I’ve ended up reading a lot of short story collections this year. I like to think I am drawn to the craft and skill it takes to write a compelling and memorable tale in a limited number of pages. In all likelihood though, it is probably my short attention span. In any case, here are four recent collections that you will find well worth your reading time.

Orientation: And Other Stories by Daniel Orozco.
Written over many years, this collection is a haunting mix of odd and darkly humorous situations and characters. How odd you ask? In “Officers Weep”, the love between two reluctant police officers is revealed via a police blotter report. “Shakers” follows the path of a California earthquake, primarily from the earthquakes perspective. The best of the bunch is “Orientation” where the reader is led around an office by an omniscient supervisor who introduces you to everyone’s darkest secrets.

Blueprints for Building Better Girls by Elissa Schappell
If you don’t care for odd and alienated, how about connected and full of rage? Schappells’ stories are loosely intertwined, via a series of mothers and daughters, and the contents are definitely under pressure. The writing is witty, direct and brutal. If you have cherished or sentimental notions about motherhood, children, dating, marriage, and (gulp) men this book is probably not for you. If you want a refreshingly honest and effective set of short stories, it is.

Burning Bright: Stories by Ron Rash
While the stories in this collection all vary in time period, from the Civil War to the present day, the setting of hardscrabble Appalachia is ever-present. Rash writes with an effective and economical style that highlights his characters attempts to accept, deny, or rebel against their environment. “Into the Gorge”, a tale of a man harvesting ginseng on state land that used to be his family’s, is particularly impressive.

After the Apocalypse: Stories by Maureen F. McHugh
It is hard to resist the end of the world. After the Apocalypse has it all. Plagues, drought, economic collapse, dirty bombs and, wait for it, zombies are all imagined causes for the beginning of the end. McHugh isn’t as concerned about the cause, however, as she is about the individuals who endure. Each story is unique and the characters are complex and richly drawn. The reader is left to confront the oddly disquieting fact that life goes on even after “the end”.

If the idea of taking on yet another 900+ page novel gives you pause, consider a short story collection. Your tired eyes will thank you and you just might be reading the next step in literary evolution.

Richard

But what if it is. What if that person does in fact want to do you harm? Worse yet what if it isn’t a person at all but some thing…

This little nugget of irrational fear is the basis for one of my favorite Science Fiction films, John Carpenter’s 1982 gem The Thing. Essentially this film is a game of “spot the monster.” You see, this thing is a shapeshifter that can perfectly mimic any living creature. The smallest bit of alien substance can infect the living with dire consequences.

Unfortunately for the denizens of isolated Outpost #31 in Antarctica, they have not read the script. One day a duo of determined Norwegians fly by shooting at a loose sled dog via helicopter. The seemingly irrational pair immolate themselves in the process and the residents of the Outpost take the distressed pup in. By the time they realize their mistake, it is anybody’s guess who is real and who isn’t.

One of the great aspects of this film is that it takes its time and dosen’t spell things out for the audience. The action builds slowly with the paranoia rising among the team as they desperately try to figure out who is who. It is also never clear, after repeated viewings on my part, who exactly gets “turned” and when. Throw in a wonderfully nihilistic ending and I promise you will never look at the family pet the same way after viewing.

One word of warning though. The Thing is no Ingmar Bergman on ice. When found out, this creature is no shrinking violet. Instead it erupts in a grotesque and bloody display of hyperkinetic evolution, desperate to defend itself and infect others. In other words, it can get pretty gross. Feel free to cover you eyes, especially during the kennel scene.

If you aren’t “thinged” out, you may be interested to know that The Thing actually has a long pedigree.

It all started with a short story by John W. Campbell published in 1938 titled “Who Goes There?”. The essentials of the story were born here, with an isolated Antarctic outpost doing battle with the mimic from another planet.

The first film based on the story was released in 1951 and was titled The Thing from Another World. The poles were switched, the creature became plant-based, and Cold War paranoia stood in for the fear of being absorbed and replicated. That’s Hollywood for you. Despite the changes it is still a fun film and has one of the best evil scientists ever created.

The latest version was released this year with the title of, what else?, The Thing. Billed as a prequel, this movie depicts what happened before those Norwegians showed up at the beginning of the 1982 film. Despite updated CGI effects and the welcome addition of a female lead, this film can’t hide the fact that it is essentially a remake. If you are a fan, though, it is definitely worth seeing how they tie details from the two films together. Curious how that bloody axe got embedded in the wall in the Carpenter version? This film will tell you.

So take a chance and decide on which replication of The Thing you most prefer. Just choose wisely.

Richard

But for some fictional detectives things aren’t that easy. Consider the plight of Commissario De Luca in Carlo Lucarelli’s excellent trilogy of Italian crime novels. De Luca is devoted to finding the truth. While in more stable times this might be admirable, in the chaotic and morally dubious world through which he navigates it is quite literally deadly.

In Carte Blanche, De Luca is a homicide detective in what is left of the crumbling fascist state in Northern Italy during the end stages of World War II.  With the Allies advancing ever closer and the partisans picking off those deemed to be collaborators, De Luca is charged with finding the murderer of Reinhard, a drug dealer with many influential and dangerous connections. Despite his strong desire to survive, he can’t resist trying to find the culprit.

The Damned Season finds De Luca in the chaos surrounding recently liberated Italy. He has fled to the countryside, with forged papers to hide his identity, but is picked up by a local partisan police officer, Leonardi, to help in the investigation of a murdered family. Leonardi knows full well that De Luca has a questionable background, but needs his skills. De Luca is once again torn between the practicalities of saving his skin and his strong to desire to find out what happened.

The final installment, Via Delle Oche, has De Luca resurfacing in Bologna a few years later. He has been appointed to the police force, despite his murky past, but is now in the lowly vice squad. When a suicide in a local brothel looks fishy, De Luca cannot let it go. This not only ruffles the feathers of the homicide squad but has far-reaching and unintended consequences.

All three novels are short, barely over a hundred pages, and written in a direct noir style with the facts being of utmost importance. These facts morph, however, and add to the morally ambiguous tone. De Luca’s main flaw is his dogged devotion to the truth as he continually tells himself that he is just a policeman doing his job.

In addition to offering a fascinating peek into Italian culture and politics, it is interesting to see how an Italian author applies some of the classic detective tropes. Most fictional detectives have a character trait that sets them apart from the mainstream. Comissario De Luca has no appetite. While his colleagues go on and on about the coffee or the pasta, he is only concerned about the case. Truly an odd duck indeed.

If you like your fictional detectives conflicted and want to explore a different world, definitely check out this series. Just don’t expect any recipes.

Richard

Oh Diane, I almost forgot. Got to find out what kind of trees these are. They’re really something.–Agent Cooper, Twin Peaks

At the risk of being identified as a non-native transplant, I must admit that I share Special Agent Cooper’s sentiments. The trees of the Pacific Northwest are amazing. Along with the sense of wonder comes a (perhaps unhealthy at times) desire to identify and learn more about the trees in the area. Luckily there is a wealth of information here at the Everett Public Library to help a tree enthusiast, if that is the correct term, find out more.

If your goal is to simply identify the tree, there are several guides from which to choose. The colorful and compact Sibley Guide to Trees is a good place to start. Illustrations of the leaves, fruit and bark of each tree are aids to identification and the coverage is nationwide.

For the diehard tree fancier, or simply the leaf obsessed, there is the Book of Leaves by Allen Coombes. Each leaf is shown at its actual size, though some editing was required for the Bigleaf Maple.

If you are willing to forgo comprehensive coverage in exchange for more in-depth information, two titles may be what you are looking for. The World of Trees by Hugh Johnson is well-organized, beautiful and chock full of useful and fascinating facts. Particularly helpful is the illustrated chart of growth rates. Now you can see just how soon that Sequoia you planted will dwarf your house. Trees: A Visual Guide is also stunning with the authors choosing a set of “remarkable trees of the world” to identify. How remarkable you ask? Try to deny your curiosity about a tree named the Strangler Fig.

Not surprisingly, the most fun, unique and quirky tree books come from the Pacific Northwest. One of my favorites is the innocuous sounding Trees of Seattle by Arthur Lee Jacobson. This labor of love lists over 1,300 different types of trees that reside within the city of Seattle. Each tree is documented and specific locations are given. The entries are opinionated and humorous while still being informative. Take this example from the entry for the Zelkova tree:

Of no floral beauty, yielding no useful fruit, Zelkova is, at least while young, decidedly plain. Its most interesting credit may be a name beginning with Z.

Ouch. Let’s hope there is a Trees of Everett someday.

Another gem is Northwest Trees by Stephen Arno & Ramona Hammerly. Exclusively about the trees native to the Northwest, this guide goes into great detail describing the appearance, location, ecological role, and history of each species. Every entry is accompanied by exquisite sketches of each tree in its natural habitat. Much more than a simple identification guide, this book borders on being a work of art.

So make a note to yourself to check out the tree books at the Library. They’re really something.

Richard

If this brief plot description of The True Deceiver by Tove Jansson sounds a bit like a fable from a children’s book, you wouldn’t be far off the mark. The author was an internationally known creator of illustrated chapter books for children. Her creations, the Moomins, earned her fame and a steady income for life. This odd and fascinating little book, however, is definitely for adults.

As Katri attempts to extort funds from Anna, the book becomes a battle of wits between the two. Much more than money is at stake, though. As the title suggests, this book is all about deception and its justification. During an argument over how to reply to fan letters, Anna states that children are innocent and can’t be fooled by false responses. Katri replies:

You sentimentalize them because they’re little. But the format doesn’t matter. I have gradually learned that everyone, absolutely everyone of every size, is out to get something. People want things. It comes to them naturally. Of course they get more skilful with age, and they’re no longer so disarmingly obvious, but the goal doesn’t change. Your children simply haven’t had time to learn how it’s done. That’s what we call innocence.

Don’t think the argument is all one-sided, though. Anna definitely gives as good as she gets. In the end it is very much up to the reader to decide who is truly taken advantage of both financially and morally.

The True Deceiver is a truly unique book and well-worth your reading time. Just don’t expect anyone to live happily ever after.

Richard

You see, long ago in a time before cable, Masterpiece Theater was premiering the BBC adaptation of the Robert Graves novel I Claudius. Most of the episodes aired at the regular time but the ones depicting Caligula’s reign were shown way past my bedtime in an attempt to discourage young viewers.  My parents, seeing I was addicted to the series, relented, and I was exposed to John Hurt’s mesmerizing, disturbing, and slightly campy version of the infamous emperor.

Every since viewing that series, I’ve had a soft spot for the whole dysfunctional Julio-Claudian dynasty. With this in mind, I was pretty much destined to check out Caligula: A Biography by Aloys Winterling.

As advertised, this new work pieces together the life and brief reign of Caligula. It is a masterful attempt to sift fact from fiction and come up with some kind of unified portrait. As the author acknowledges, this is no easy task due to the lack of reliable sources. The few accounts that have survived were written a generation after Caligula’s time and by members of the senate. Since one of Caligula’s more infamous, yet humorous, deeds was to nominate his favorite horse to become a senator, he doesn’t come off too well in these accounts.

Thankfully, Winterling doesn’t simply dismiss every fanciful tale as a matter of bias. What fun would that be after all? Instead he engages in an entertaining attempt to find out what was really going on. Did Caligula really smother the aged Emperor Tiberius with a pillow? After becoming Emperor, did he march to the English Channel, declare war on Neptune, and collect sea shells as war booty?  And what about those sisters of his?

If you want a reasoned and fascinating attempt to parse the truth of these claims and more, definitely read Caligula: A Biography.

If, instead, you want all the dirt and the truth be damned, head straight to the source and check out Lives of the Twelve Caesars by Suetonius. Come for the decadent and insane Caligula, but stay for the rational but ruthless Augustus, the dour and despairing Tiberius, the sympathetic but weak-willed Claudius and the less-said-about-him-the-better Nero. As John Hurt’s version of Caligula would say: people really are despicable.

Richard

The author uncovers fascinating things about her subject. Squid and their brethren have managed to survive the five major extinctions over the past half billion years. Cuttlefish can change their color almost instantly to blend in with their environment but are essentially color blind. The Giant Pacific Octopus can solve puzzles and develop a fan base at aquariums. 

But of all the words in the tantalizing title, the most important for understanding this book is the word science. Williams is dedicated to the concept of scientific inquiry and takes a detached view of all things cephalopod. In fact, the book is more about the scientists who study squid, octopi and cuttlefish and the methods they employ than the creatures themselves.

A brief quote describing a neurosurgery lecture should give you a feel for this tone:

Anderson held on to the squid body. The animal’s one head, eight arms, and two tentacles writhed.

“We’ll start with the gross dissection,” he said.

Then he snipped off the head.

A deep, anguished groan came from the thirty mostly male surgery residents.

“Neurosurgeons are surprisingly squeamish.” Anderson told me later.

“And it’s all for the good of science,” he told me.

Kraken has lots of tantalizing information and is well worth your reading time. If, however, you have a strange sympathy for the creatures discussed, and yes there are a few of us out there, prepare yourself for a bumpy ride.

Richard

Despite my flawed selection criteria, The Audition turned out to be a great read. Well, great if you don’t mind entering a disturbing, gruesome and oddly funny world.

Aoyama has been widowed for several years and, despite the chiding of his teenage son, has avoided the dating scene. When his film producer friend hatches the idea to hold an audition to find him a new spouse, using a fictitious film as bait, he reluctantly agrees to participate. He falls hard for the young, beautiful and mysterious Yamasaki.  His infatuation blinds him to the mounting evidence that something is very wrong and leads to a truly horrific conclusion.

Part social commentary, part comedy and part thriller this is a hard book to define. It is written in a straightforward style and admittedly does have a slow buildup. If you stick with it you will be rewarded, if that is the right word, with a book you won’t soon forget.

Having enjoyed The Audition, I used a more reliable book recommendation method and decided to read another title by the author. Popular Hits of the Showa Era definitely fit the bill and didn’t disappoint.

Set in a nondescript Tokyo neighborhood, this is the tale of two unlikely warring factions. The first is a dim-witted group of young men who giggle uncontrollably and perform karaoke shows for no one. The second is a team of middle aged divorcees united only by a shared last name. Both groups are caught in an existential malaise until an act of violence unites them in a desire for mutual revenge. From then on, the body count begins to rise and things quickly get out of hand.

If you take this title on, be prepared for a scathing social satire. Social satire is actually too generic a term. Think Camus’ The Stranger with tons of pop culture references and played for laughs or maybe a modern day Japanese Satyricon. If you think it could be justifiable to fire a missile at a bunch of drunken youths in drag lip synching to horrible pop tunes, this book may be for you. If not you probably want to steer clear and resist the enticing cover.

Richard

This, via the Encyclopedia Britannica’s dramatization of the short story “The Lottery,” was my first introduction to the works of Shirley Jackson. Despite the strong impression it left, in the years since I had never read any of her other stories. Recently though, while perusing the new fiction stacks, I came upon a Modern Library Edition of Shirley Jackson’s collected works, Novels and Stories, and decided to properly introduce myself to her work.

I confess to having been a bit worried that my now older, though not necessarily wiser, self would be disappointed. Instead, I was just as impressed and disturbed as at my first exposure. The collection was selected by Joyce Carol Oates and includes Jackson’s major novels, The Haunting of Hill House and We Have Always Lived in the Castle. But as a lover of short fiction, I went straight for the large number of short stories.

Very few of the stories are as directly shocking as “The Lottery.” Instead Jackson is a master at creating an unsettling atmosphere from the world of everyday post-war living. Three examples should give you a feel for them:

In “The Tooth” Clara is sent by her husband to the city, since the suburban dentists are “butchers,” to find a qualified dentist to pull her tooth. Is it the pain, codeine or something else that makes her see a mysterious figure on the bus and start to unravel?

In “The Renegade” Mrs. Walpole, her family having recently moved to the country, finds out that her new neighbors have accused the family pet of being a chicken killer. Disturbingly, her children heartily agree with the punishment that the new community demands.

In “Summer People” the Allisons decide to break with local tradition and stay beyond Labor Day at their summer cottage in New England. As all the services they need are cut off one by one, they begin to question their decision.

The growing material prosperity and suburbanization of America in the 1950s and 60s, plus the background dread of the Cold War, loom large in her stories. This collection would be an excellent companion piece for the short stories of John Cheever, or if you are more visually inclined, the popular exploits of Don Draper and company. Whatever you do, don’t take as long as I did to discover her work.

Richard