A Great Beginning

Book Review: Creative Character Design by Bryan Tillman

Bryan Tillman's Creative Character Design is a good beginner's guide for creating graphic or even literary characters. He emphasizes the importance of "the story", the history of the character and how that will affect the appearance and development of the character. This is an important rule for authors as well as artists.

Tillman also approaches the role of archetypes in character creation. Archetypes appear in every facet of human storytelling, from pre-literate cave paintings to the modern day, and the creative artist ignores them at their peril. He breaks down and the most common archetypes and illustrates how they can interact and even overlap.

Tillman utilizes a light tone in his lessons which may strike some as a trifle un-professional -- but that I think is well suited to the topic and level of the lessons. It isn't physics, it's art, and beginning level at that; I think the pop and zing of his narrative style work just fine. The artwork is not overwhelming, but what beginner wants that thrown in his face? The art and text is completely at home for the target audience (Tillman talks about that too!)

My only grievance would be that the book stops too soon; I wanted more. It helps lay a good foundation, and I wanted to start building walls. A great beginning!

A page-turner from beginning to end

Book Review: A Burial at Sea (Charles Lenox Mysteries) by Charles Finch

Being a fan of both history and mystery, it is a wonder that I managed to go so long without discovering the Charles Lenox historical mystery series by author Charles Finch. A Burial at Sea, fifth book in the series, served as my introduction to Victorian detective Lenox and it was an enjoyable voyage clear through.

Finch's writing is clear and direct, and he manages to inject just the right amount of nautical terminology into the early chapters - describing it through the eyes of the non-seafaring Lenox so that the landlubbers among us don't confuse our bowsprits with our mizzens. He also lays the historical groundwork with easy facility, describing the politics of the English navy and how the class distinctions on land extended onto the seas. This supplies the undercurrent for the murders that Lenox must solve.

And in solving them, Lenox is at times as baffled as we are. After some time in Parliament, his skills are a little rusty, and without his usual experts at hand, he must work with what he has. The cast of characters that Finch lays out for us (and Lenox) are varied in background and personality, and Finch keeps them believable in their different aspects.

As the murder is solved and the ship arrives in port, we are returned to the mission that was the original purpose of Lenox's voyage. The story shifts scene but sails ahead on land, moving the characters into a more exotic locale that is no less threatening, and as fast-paced. My only dissatisfaction with the ending of the story was that there was no more to read.

If Jackson Pollock Could Write

Book Review: Big Lonesome by Joseph Scapellato

The artist Jackson Pollock was famous for his "action paintings", in which he would tack a large canvas to the floor and drip, splatter, and smear paint across it's entire surface. It was the act of painting that was important, not what (if anything) the painting showed.

His work was performance art, using paint as a medium. He even went to the extent of titling his paintings by number, rather than assigning names, to avoid preconceptions by the viewer.

There are people that can look at a Jackson Pollock painting and see something, who are able to coalesce the random spattering of paint into a theme or a concept or even a scene. Personally I believe this is more a function of their own consciousness, not the intent of the artist. For Pollock, the activity of painting was more important than what was being painted.

Joseph Scapellato's collection of short stories, Big Lonesome, swings between episodes of the real ("Immigrants", "Company"), to random gatherings of words, dripped onto pages apparently left lying on the floor ("Horseman Cowboy"). In the first case, the object is clear to anyone that reads it. In the second case, the reader's ability to discern a message may rely more on wishful thinking and a desire to see something where nothing exists. The mere act of putting words (or paint) on paper does not automatically make it art, or provide it with meaning.

At its best, Big Lonesome provides us with a montage of dispirited characters, coping with the small, individual loneliness that is human existence, and he manages to do it in a distinctive and incisive manner. The "surreal" bits in between intrude into this fabric, but without the redeeming quality of providing a counterpoint. They seem to exist simply to create a perception of artistic merit, but instead appear more like 'Magic Eye' paintings that have been hung among the Masters in an art gallery. If you squint your eyes and tilt your head just right, you may see something, but in the end it diverts and distracts rather than enlightens.

Don't Judge a Book by its Length

Book Review: Metis Beach by Claudine Bourbonnais

I find that there's a certain "weighing-in" that goes on when I am confronted by a lengthy new book. Part of it is, no doubt, a holdover from the English classes I took in high school. Just when you thought you might actually see the bottom of the pile of homework, a masochistic teacher would assign War and Peace to read and report on in two weeks (my apologies to Tolstoy).

Even without that hanging over my head, there is still a hesitation to embark on a drawn out literary expedition. Reading is a hobby, hopefully an enjoyable one, but it does require an expenditure of time and attention. Obviously, a longer book takes longer to read, but there is the added effort of keeping track of more characters over an extended plot line. In short, it becomes work, and leaves the reader hoping that the author will help along the way, and the payoff will be worth the labor.

In the case of Claudine Bourbonnais' debut novel, Metis Beach, the rewards did not quite compensate for the effort. What the back matter copy describes as a "historical epic" and a "chronicle of the great American Sixties" was a lengthy, meandering story of a young man's journey across two countries over the course of three decades. There were brief nods, Forest Gump style, to landmark events like the March on Washington, but the characters serve more as observers than participants in this larger picture.

The result is an unhappy melding of a coming of age story (worthwhile on its own merits) with almost random historical events. Whether this was an effort to set a place in time for the story, or to try to link the character's haphazard progress with the growing pains of American society, I'm really not sure. I suspect that it was both, but in the end Metis Beach accomplishes neither. Having grown up in the Sixties, to me the references seemed impersonal and detached, as if they were culled from newspaper headlines rather than experience. They end up detracting from the personal aspect of the story, rather than adding to it.

Sometimes less is more, and I think Ms. Bourbonnais may have bitten off more than she could chew. The story of Roman Carr/Romain Carrier actually would stand better on its own, shorn of the historical references. That would still leave plenty of meat on the bone, so to speak; buried in Metis Beach is an excellent character study, as well as a view into the Canadian French/English dichotomy. Sometimes the measure of a book is what the author leaves out.

In the Shadow of Hemingway

Book Review: Drought by Ronald Fraser

When the talk turns to novels about Spain and the Spanish Civil War, men of a certain age (including me) will immediately turn to Ernest Hemingway.

Hemingway turned his minimalist realist eye on the Spanish Civil War in his novel For Whom the Bell Tolls, and opened the door to a world unknown to most Americans. In Drought, Ronald Fraser picks up where Hemingway left off, historically and stylistically, and gives us a view of Spain where the echoes of the Civil War can still be heard. Old animosities lie hidden, but are neither forgotten nor forgiven, and the trust between neighbors is still a tentative thing.

Writing in a spare style reminiscent of Hemingway, Fraser has penned what can almost be regarded as a sequel to For Whom the Bell Tolls. Parallels exist between the characters of both novels, including the foreign protagonist. Just as the bridge played a central role in Hemingway's tale, Fraser has a dam to do the heavy lifting. Hemingway's "iceberg" storytelling style is evident in both stories; the reader must divine motives and personalities from the actions and dialog of the characters.

And so the question becomes, is Drought the heir apparent of For Whom the Bell Tolls, or is it simply fan fiction? I just finished my second reading of Drought, with my copy of Hemingway at hand, and I will admit the comparison is favorable. Fraser may not be a match for one of the masters of American literature, but he has certainly given us more than a shadow of his intent, and a clear but fleeting echo of the master's voice.