The Power of Art: What Nails It by Greil Marcus

 What Nails It by Greil Marcus

What Nails It book cover

Greil Marcus Joe Mabel, CC BY-SA 3.0  via Wikimedia Commons

The Assumption of the Virgin by Titian Dguendel, CC BY 3.0  via Wikimedia Commons

Thank you to Yale University Press and NetGalley for providing me with access to the latest book of essays by one of America’s preeminent cultural critics, Greil Marcus. I was very excited to find Marcus's book What Nails It  since I’ve read several of Marcus’s other books, and always appreciate his perspective on topics ranging from music to films to politics and history. Interestingly, this book is brief and contains 3 separate essays, all interrelated to the topic of art and criticism. I also found that based on some of the other books I’ve read, this was one of the more personal reflections, as the 3 essays all dealt with topics related to Marcus’s personal experiences. I also think that the middle essay, that focused on the Marcus’s discovery of the film critic Pauline Kael, presented the kind of shift in criticism that Marcus experienced as he moved from the college/academic critical perspective to the idiosyncratic and more self-expressive connections that Kael helped to make popular with her film criticisms. However, the first essay was also incredibly powerful. Marcus reflects on his father, who he never really knew. Sadly, Marcus, born Greil Griestly and named after his father, lost his father to WWII in a terrible Naval accident in the Pacific. It is an incredible story. Marcus makes an interesting connection with the opening scenes of David Lynch’s Blue Velvet, sharing that the kind of wholesome portrait of America is not always what it seems, and while it didn’t seem like his father’s heroics during WWII were hidden, it did seem like the events of the ship’s sinking were covered up due to the incompetence of the ship’s commanding officer. This experience also left Marcus to wonder about his identity, but also recognizing that had his father never died in the war, he wouldn’t have his siblings and possibly his own family. I really enjoyed learning more about Pauline Kael and Marcus’s personal connection in the 2nd essay. I’ve heard a lot about her, and it’s kind of interesting to see that shift and recalibration about the possibilities of writing, criticism, and art that Marcus experienced moving from Berkeley to the editorial staff of Rolling Stone. His experience reading Kael’s writing allowed him to shift his conceptions of what criticism could be and how critics often bring in their own humanity and experiences to truly feel the art—not just objectively (and somewhat coldly) analyzing it from a distance. I’m not sure if there is some kind of separate term for this kind of criticism, but I understood what Marcus meant, especially when you spend 4 years (or more) learning about theorists and critics, trying to emulate their thinking and developing a kind of theoretical application that tries to apply scientific principles to art. Kael and Marcus seemed to delight in the emotions that art can evoke, and making this a key aspect of their criticism is important to remember what makes art so necessary in our lives. This shift in criticism also leads into the final essay that focuses on Marcus’s experience with Titian’s painting The Assumption of the Virgin in Venice. More than just an analysis or personal reflection on the painting itself, Marcus uses Titian’s work as a kind of springboard to reflect on all of the qualities that Titian’s works shares with other art, even those considered low art (music, comics, pop art, film). He also makes reference to the enduring quality of the Rolling Stones Let it Bleed, and how listening to this album at different points in his life, he is able to hear different elements of the art and experience different emotions each time. I loved how this essay tied up the other points he makes about the self and art, and how it’s important to not only analyze art, more it is even more necessary to feel and appreciate art, recognizing it’s power to move and challenge us, to help us experience new emotions or resurrect old emotions that we haven’t felt for some time. Whether it is film, painting, sculpture, or music, great art has the power to move us in unique ways—not just allowing us to feel, but also providing us with new thoughts and pathways to creativity. This was a short, but great read, and I look forward to re-visiting these essays soon.

Demons, Vampires, and Lots of Blood: Devils Kill Devils

 Devils Kill Devils by Johnny Compton

Devils Kill Devils book cover

Author Johnny Compton (photo by Louis Scott)

Thank you to Tor Nightfire Books and Netgalley for allowing me the opportunity to review Johnny Compton’s creative and wildly violent new book Devils Kill Devils. I was excited to read this book since the blurb mentioned it was for fans of Silvia Moreno-Garcia and featured angels, devils, and vampires. Devils Kill Devils mostly focuses on Sarita Bardeles, who we meet on the night of her wedding to Frank Stallworth. Sarita keeps a secret from Frank, that eventually has severe consequences. Sarita has what she believes is a guardian angel, Angelo, who has watched over her throughout her life, saving her from a potential drowning incident when she was younger, and showing up at various points of danger to protect her. Frank is brutally murdered by Angelo, leaving Sarita, her in-laws (especially her mother Harrah), and her friends to wonder why. Sarita’s immediate family and close friend Tori know about Angelo, but her in-laws have suspicions about Frank’s brutal murder. Devils Kill Devils transitions from a kind of mystery surrounding guardian angels and the potential for revenge to something like a vampire clan story, with warring factions of vampires, those who seek to destroy humanity and those looking to preserve it. Sarita is also involved because she is chosen to be the mother of a god, yet who may also be sacrificed along with her child to initiate the apocalypse. Compton’s story has many creative elements to it. The vampires in the story are not the traditional Dracula blood suckers. Rather, these are beasts who feed on human blood to the point of engorgement. Their bloodlust also physically transforms them into monstrous creatures who have extraordinary powers. I was really impressed with the nature of these vampires; Compton’s characterization and description reminded me of some other non-traditional vampire stories like Cañas’s Vampires of El Norte and King’ Doctor Sleep. I also really liked Compton’s explanation at the end of the book about sourcing all of these vampire descriptions, borrowing from both older literature as well as popular movies and manga about monsters and vampires. Beyond the creative descriptions of their physical features, these vampires are violent and bloodthirsty, attacking and biting, ripping their victims in half and feasting on their innards and bones. Additionally, Compton has done the research to incorporate some new ways to kill vampires (nails/metal through the tongue/mouth) and challenging some of the other myths about defeating vampires. This was another strength of the book that made it interesting to read. Nevertheless, I felt like there were some points where I was lost in the story. Although the change of pace from a rogue and violent guardian angel to a vampire and demon story was compelling, we didn’t find out much about Angelo’s back story until about ¾ of the way through the book. I was thinking that Angelo’s story might be more interesting and compelling had we learned about it from an interspersed chapter from his perspective. That might have also given us more insight into how the different groups of vampires and demons fractured and came to battle against one another. I also felt a little lost about Sarita’s role as the mother of a god and how Angelo, despite having excellent intel for other events in her life, had been misled about Frank’s threat to her. Although Compton is a creative writer who can capture violence and chaos well, there were some times in the novel where there were too many details or some characters were explored more fully than they needed to be. For example, we learn that Sarita and her friend Tori got the same tattoo. While I think this shows how close they are, it also seemed like an unnecessary detail. Uncle Everett, Frank’s uncle who seems to be the only one sympathetic to Sarita, was described after Frank’s murder as an older, bald and tattooed man; however, this was very different from the description I envisioned from Sarita’s wedding night. I liked Uncle Everett, but I wasn’t sure about his description being so late and detailed. At other points, it felt like we learned too much about the characters’ thoughts, whether it was Sarita, Harrah, or Cela. Finally, I really didn’t care for Harrah or Cela that much, yet these were characters who were featured prominently in the last ¾ of the book. Harrah is Sarita’s mother-in-law and blames Sarita for her loss. Harrah had a strained relationship with her son and is presented as someone who seems to care more about drinking and gambling, yet also feels upset about her son’s refusal to dance with her during the wedding. I didn’t really buy this and didn’t really enjoy the chapters about her. Similarly, I didn’t really understand Cela’s motivations for her movement. Regardless, this was an interesting book, and the detailed descriptions and creative creatures make me want to read Compton’s other book, The Spite House. 

Signifying on an American Classic

 James by Percival Everett

Percival Everett Photo Credit Department of English, Arizona State University, CC BY 3.0 

James book cover

James by Percival Everett has received unanimous praise, and it is rightly deserved. Not so much a retelling of Huckleberry Finn, but rather a reconsideration of the themes and ideas of the American novel, James reconceives the story from the perspective of James, the enslaved companion of Huckleberry Finn. Although this is a novel that deals with the brutality and violence of slavery, James’s perspective and insight into the world bring a certain level of humor and biting wit to challenge the perceptions of slavery and enslaved people. Furthermore, it is an exciting adventure and heartwarming tale of a man’s attempt to both maintain his family and identity while separated from them, yet also seek to reunite with them. One of the most entertaining parts of the book was James’s constant code switching to make white people feel better and to also kind of maintain an insight and knowledge around them. It kind of reminded me of Chief Bromden from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest in that he basically maintains the stereotypes in order to gain more from it. James’s journey also reminded me of Ellison’s narrator in Invisible Man who finds that there’s not only a kind of safety in these stereotypes, but also a kind of knowledge to be gained. In fact, the engineer on the steamboat reminded me a lot of Lucius Brockway in the Liberty Paint Factory, someone who operates out of sight, but also seeks to please his white masters to maintain his position.

James details James’s flight from enslavement towards freedom, moving down the river and encountering scammers, danger, and death. Throughout the story, James seeks to keep a book and his pencil, to detail his story and his self. We also see the power of literacy, both oral and written, to not only define oneself, but also to redefine and challenge the history. In this way, James operates like the antithesis of Schoolmaster’s book in Toni Morrison’s Beloved, where definitions are written by the definers. James seeks to not only rename himself for American audiences, but also to recount and detail his story and adventures, proving that he is not a mere sidekick, but rather the unsung hero. This was a great book to read, and it made me want to revisit Huckleberry Finn as well as some of the other books from African-American Literature I’ve referenced. There were many examples and references throughout the book that, in Henry Louis Gates’s theory, signified on the traditions of African-American Literature—From Hurston’s hurricane that destroys Lake Okeechobee to DuBois’s veil of consciousness, from Morrison’s thick love to Douglass’s freedom through learning, James is a book that captures and reinvents American literature, allowing audiences to reconsider and reconceptualize the roles, history, and perspectives in literature

Aliens, Zombies, and Government Secrecy: Revisiting Ed Wood's Plan 9 from Outer Space

 Plan 9 from Outer Space: The Novelization 

by Bret Nelson

Plan 9 from Outer Space book cover from  Encyclopocalypse

Author Bret Nelson

Bela Luosi from The Vampire's Tomb, later reused for Plan 9

Maila Nurmi as Vampira in Plan 9

Tor Johnson as Inspector Clay resurrected in Plan 9

Big thanks to Encyclopocalypse Publications and Book Sirens for providing me with an advanced copy of the novelization of Plan 9 from Outer Space by Bret Nelson. I was super excited to find that there was a novelized version of this classic film available. As soon as I saw the bright green cover with Tor Johnson’s zombie face, I knew that I wanted to read it. I also reviewed another book from Encyclopocalypse Publications (Ariel Powers-Schaub’s excellent analysis of early 2000s horror films MillennialNasties), so I was excited to also discover a publisher of books that appeal to my horror cravings. To top it all off, once I downloaded the book, I couldn’t believe that Dana Gould, one of my favorite comedians, wrote the forward for the book. It’s a great introduction and a reminder that films like Plan 9 are a great way to find friends with like-minded interests (or as Gould says a litmus test for weirdos).

It's been a while since I’ve seen Plan 9, so I forgot many of the plot details. I’m not even sure I paid that much attention to the story whenever I watched it, often with friends who were also there to comment and joke about the film. It’s definitely not a movie I took all that seriously. While it has the reputation as the worst movie ever made, like Gould, I beg to differ and can think of many other films that are much worse than it. I also recently read W. Scott Poole’s book about Vampira, who also starred in Plan 9, and from what I remember from her experience, there wasn’t much of a budget to make this film. Regardless, Nelson’s novelization presents a more straightforward horror/sci-fi film that deals with many relevant issues and topics in society both from the late 1950s and even in our contemporary world. I was actually surprised by how serious and engaging the story was. I initially expected a kind of jokey, ironic novelization, but Nelson’s narrative presents a story of an alien expedition seeking to potentially limit humanity’s access to dangerous weapons and materials. I loved how the book dealt with this idea that humanity is on a path of mutual destruction through their weapon-developing and posturing, something that was relevant in the 10-15 years after the bombing of Japan and during the Cold War, and definitely something we are experiencing now with global tensions and conflicts simmering. There’s also an undercurrent of government secrecy and distrust, which again is another kind of paranoia that was present during the Cold War and remains an element of American politics that the internet may have exacerbated. Regardless, Nelson does a great job presenting how the military in the story help to use media to make the truth seem even more ridiculous and far-fetched using somewhat unbelievable heralds and messengers. Nelson’s writing is crisp and not overly detailed; furthermore, basing the book on Ed Wood’s script, he uses dialogue effectively to further the story. I also liked how eventually the chapters were subdivided into different characters sections—focusing on the convergence of the different narratives towards the finale. Nelson’s writing really helps to re-establish the kind of story this was meant to be; it also made me think about how this book would make a great reinterpretation as a film update. Wood’s story predates a lot of popular tropes in horror today—aliens, zombies/undead, and questioning the military industrial complex. While the title has a kind of negative or ridiculous connotation, I thought that the other elements of the story are relevant and compelling for horror audiences today. In addition to the novel, the book also features some great photos and promotional materials/posters from the film’s release. I enjoyed examining these after reading the book.  I’m excited to read more of the novelizations from Encyclopocalypse Publications, and see if Brett Nelson has more books available to read. 

Saint Grit: A Tale of Witchcraft and Empowerment

 Saint Grit by Kayli Scholz

Saint Grit book cover from Ghoulish Books (artwork by Alejandra Oviedo)

Saint Grit author Kayli Scholz (photo by Sam Gehrke)

Big thanks to Ghoulish Books and Book Sirens for making SaintGrit by Kayli Scholz available to read, especially after its publication. I was so excited to find this book since it has been on my to read list even before publication. I think that I read about it in an email list of upcoming small press horror books. However, I think that I also read about Betty Rocksteady’s artwork somewhere else, and Saint Grit features some really cool artwork from Rocksteady. Her artwork along with Alejandra Oviedo’s amazing cover were really appealing to me. I was also attracted to the story about conjuring a witch that grows inside the narrator and leads her to act out. Nadine Boone is a typical 70s teenager who shows a burgeoning interest in witchcraft. The book starts out in the mid/late 70s in Florida, right around the time when the Satanic Panic may have begun, and follows Nadine and the witch she calls Saint Grit that grows inside her. Nadine was an interesting and attractive character, one who grows distrustful of others around her and can only seem to find satisfaction through herself. I loved how her interest in witchcraft ran much darker than some of the others in the book, like Cassidy and Elliot, who attend a kind of pagan/Wiccan festival. Nadine becomes acquainted with Saint Grit through a personal encounter in her backyard by the moonlight. She encounters a poisonous tree, yet after calling on Saint Grit, isn’t affected by the burning sap the way others are. Also, after conjuring Saint Grit, Nadine begins to emit leaves from her body. I loved this kind of imagery and how it connected Nadine more with nature than with evil. This was also around the time that Nadine met a boy, but their first encounter left her feeling somewhat dejected. Roger, her boyfriend at the time, disrespected her and didn’t really understand how to please her, so this also seemed to be what started Nadine on not relying on others for her own satisfaction. As Saint Grit begins to grow within her, Nadine begins to take revenge on the boys and men (as well as complicit women) who are in her life. Her haunting of Roger’s dreams in class was both humorous and reminiscent of the dream sequence from Hereditary. Nadine also has an older brother who is a football star, who seems to garner much of her family’s attention. Saint Grit also helps Nadine regain the power imbalance in her family. The fear that Nadine’s new spirit and being present to the men in her life (her brothers Hatch and Davey, her father George, Roger) was important to consider in the book as well. It seemed like the men feared empowered women who were not dependent upon them to provide financially or dictate their work around the house. Maybe this was also why Nadine was resentful of her mother, Louise, as well. She frequently disparaged her, especially after Louise confronted Nadine about her nightly rituals under the tree with Saint Grit. This was an interesting theme throughout the book, where Nadine was dismissive of these kinds of social mores and expectations for women, often following her own path of self-empowerment. Even after she marries Elliot, she begins to assert more agency and autonomy in her relationship, declaring that Elliot would provide her with 3 daughters. Elliot, like the other men in the novel, isn’t really that likeable of a character, so I enjoyed reading what eventually happens to him. Nadine also begins to raise her daughters, hoping for the day they hear the call of the witch’s horn, when she can initiate them into the ways of Saint Grit. Nadine’s parenting was kind of humous in ways, but nothing compared to how she managed to deal with Elliot. This was a short, but fun read. Some of the details were graphic and gross (especially Nadine’s last child to be born, Beckett). However, it was also a clever and creative Satanic/Witchcraft tale that also told of female empowerment and self-determination. I loved how Nadine’s story spans the late 70s through the 80s and 90s, a period when I grew up, and also coincided with the Satanic Panic and resurgence of conservatism. Nadine’s story and actions offer a tale of resistance to the patriarchy and domesticity that dominated this era. I hope to read more of Scholz’s books since Saint Grit’s horror was the kind that appeals to me. I also am excited to read more books from Ghoulish Publishers, glad to discover this horror publishing house. 

Exploring Eerie Legends and Mysterious Folklore with Amazing Artwork

 Eerie Legends: An Illustrated Exploration of Creepy Creatures, the Paranormal, and Folklore from Around the World 

by Ricardo Diseño and Steven Mockus  

Eerie Legends book cover by Chronicle Books

Ricardo Diseño's artwork

The myth of La Llorona

El Chupacabra

Joroguma, Japanese Spider Woman

Huge thanks to Chronicle Books and Netgalley for making this ARC available to read. I was so excited to find Eerie Legends: AnIllustrated Exploration of Creepy Creatures, the Paranormal, and Folklore fromAround the World by Ricardo Diseño and Steve Mockus available for download. This book is like an alphabetized reference book of legendary creatures, cryptids, and other strange and unexplained phenomena from around the world, spanning different cultures and eras throughout history. Each entry features amazing artwork from Diseño, often depicting the creature or legend as well as its impact on people. This was my favorite part of the book. The drawings were in color and really creepy. Diseño featured not only elements of these legends, but also seemed to put his own spin on them, rendering them in bright colors (purple, turquoise, orange, red, yellow) against the dark, black background. Although I received a digital copy to review, I would consider purchasing a physical copy to examine the pictures in more detail. I also read that the book’s cover glows in the dark, which seems like another great feature. In addition to these drawings, each entry includes a brief informational sketch of the legend, often providing some history, context, or other explanatory information, along with a fictionalized story, sometimes told from the point of view of a victim or the creature. The entries were good, but if you’ve read other books about these legends or cryptids, it doesn’t really reveal anything new or ground-breaking. I liked their brevity, which made it easy to read and explore. Although adding the narrative/fictionalized accounts was a clever addition, I didn’t think these were consistently strong or interesting. Some were clever, but I found myself losing interest in these brief stories as the book went on. It seemed like either they were too short to develop any meaningful kind of story, or it was just more repetitive of the informational text. I applaud the efforts to keep these stories to a page, but I think focusing the book on the images and stories behind the legends is more effective.

One thing that differentiated this book from some other books about creatures, cryptids, and urban legends was its recency. While there are some classics like the Loch Ness Monster, Florida’s Skunk Ape, and the Jersey Devil, the book also includes other, more recent phenomena like Loab, an AI generated character that appears to haunt the internet, and Slenderman, a creepy pasta character that influenced an attempted murder. While somewhat familiar with Slenderman, the information provided some additional context and details. I wasn’t as familiar with Loab, but her story helped to show how technology is influencing the facilitation of these legends and tales. I also loved how the book spanned different eras and cultures, focusing on some legends from Japanese (Joroguma) and Mexican/Latin America (Chupacabra, La Llorona). This is a great book to have as a reference and a showpiece highlighted by Diseño inventive images of these creatures. I also found that Diseño created a set of horror movie tarot cards, so I’m interested to see what other work he has available.

 

A New Novel of Psychological (and Work) Horror

 Tiny Threads by Lilliam Rivera

Tiny Threads cover by Penguin Random House

Lilliam Rivera, author of Tiny Threads (photo credit JJ Geiger)

Big thanks to Penguin Random House and Netgalley for sending me an advanced copy of Lilliam Rivera’s new psychological horror novel TinyThreads. I previously reviewed Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Silver Nitrate, and a representative from Penguin Random House sent Rivera’s book due to my interest in Moreno-Garcia’s book. I’m so glad that they sent this book because it was an entertaining and creepy read. Initially, I was a little concerned that a book about the fashion industry might not be that appealing to me; however, as I began to read, I really identified with Samara’s quest to redefine herself through her work for the designer Antonio Mota and a relocation to southern California, away from her family and possible past traumas that she is unwilling or unready to address. Samara does have a personal connection with the town of Vernon, an industrial/textile manufacturing town that has recently undergone some gentrification, partly the result of Antonio’s relocating his fashion empire here. Samara’s grandmother was also a seamstress in the town, and Samara’s memories of her grandmother and her stories play an integral role in the novel.

Antonio’s House of Mota brand is not all that it seems to be, and while Samara does make some friends in her new place of employment, the Mota’s toxicity gradually reveals itself through unrealistic expectations and temper tantrums. Furthermore, Samara notes the divisions in place between the designers and production staff and the seamstresses, most of whom are Latina workers. She also begins to recognize other Latinx workers in areas like the slaughterhouse. Nevertheless, she seeks to include them in Mota’s re-launching of his line as Antonio attempts to reestablish himself as a player in the fashion industry. As part of Samara’s work, she has access to the Mota archives, where she learns more about the history of Vernon and the women whose labor helped to make Mota a well-recognized brand. As she explores Vernon’s history, Samara begins to hear and see strange things, starting with her visit to Marisa’s gallery, a local Vernon artist. Marisa’s art contains images of Latina’s cut in half, both shocking and intriguing Samara. This, along with her struggle to adapt to the toxic work culture, seems to be what begins Samara’s descent into mental instability… that and her drinking problem. Samara’s challenges and desire to prove herself were both relatable and hard to watch. I related to her challenges of dealing with a difficult to please boss who expects much but doesn’t offer much in direction or feedback. I also related to her desire to carve out an identity as a writer and designer in a new field for her. What was sad to watch was how Samara’s desire to fit in and adhere to the Mota house’s toxicity gradually allowed her to lose her own identity. I think this is also where her drinking really picked up as she sought to cover up both her own personal trauma from the past, as well as the generational/cultural trauma from the many different Latinas who helped to shape Vernon and make it a textile capital. Marisa’s art, as well as the haunting visions and sounds Samara experiences throughout the novel, both disturb and remind Samara of these unspoken violence throughout history.

In addition to the cultural trauma, Samara also experiences misogyny and assault as a woman. Beyond Marisa’s striking images, Samara also encounters men who, as her Abuela reminded her, present a kind of mask that hides their true intentions. Rivera’s use of animal imagery, from wolves to pigs, throughout the novel helps to illustrate this kind of false or hidden duality. In addition to the animal symbolism, I really enjoyed Rivera’s use of Spanish throughout the novel as well as the pop culture and literary references to music, songs, and poetry. During my reading, I was checking the meaning of words and phrases, as well as looking up some song lyrics and authors she mentioned in the book. Like the town of Vernon, Little Threads has a lot to offer if you are willing to delve below the surface. While what you may find is not always pleasant, in Samara’s experience, Rivera’s novel reminds us of the importance of opening that door and exploring the past as well as how creative folks like Samara and Marisa can provide a voice to those who are denied voices due to cultural, gender, sexual, or economic violence. While I loved this book, the one thing I would have liked to see revisited somewhat is the introduction/prologue. There’s an implication that the boxing match the woman watched took place at Samara’s new apartment building, but I was hoping that there would be more mention of this event. It’s a shocking way to begin the novel, but there wasn’t more explicit mention of it. I think that some of the other events that Samara experiences, which I won’t reveal, were connected to this beginning, but I was hoping for more specific references. Nevertheless, this was an entertaining book that I couldn’t put down. I know that Rivera writes for different audiences, but I’m hoping that she produces more psychological horror like this one.