THE OSPREY MAN is just $12 right now, through June 30, with free shipping from my publisher. It’s $5.99 as an ebook, or you can contact me for a signed copy. Read the reviews here–this coming of age tale is great read for a young person in your life, or for general readers.
RökFlöte
RökFlöte, the 23rd studio album from Jethro Tull, is, to paraphrase an old maxim, a very nice sort of album for those who enjoy these sorts of albums.
Just a year removed from the long-awaited, pandemic-delayed The Zealot Gene, Ian Anderson and friends return this spring with a record full of Norse Mythology. That Anderson is still releasing new music at this stage of his career, fifty-five years after he founded the band, is an amazing feat. This new one has, as you may expect, plenty of rock, plenty of flute, plenty of dense lyrics about Odin and Thor and the creation of the world. In short, the perfect subject matter for Jethro Tull.
To my ear, RökFlöte is heavier, with more hard rock songs than The Zealot Gene, but lacks some of that album’s warmth and emotion. Given Tull’s huge catalog, and Anderson’s interest in myths and legends, it’s almost surprising that he hasn’t recorded something like this before. I particularly enjoyed the way the songs interplay with one another, each centered on a different Norse god or myth. The opening track, and the closing one, feature spoken word poetry from the Old Icelandic poetic edda, inviting the listener into the world the band is exploring. It’s well worth the trip. And, I might add, if you don’t love spoken word Old Icelandic poetry, I am not sure how I can help you, or convince you to enjoy this kind of record. I love it, but of course I do. This is my favorite band, and has been for more than thirty years. Besides, I’m a sucker for Norse Myths and dead languages–Anderson knows his audience by now. The only thing we love better than mythology are long flute solos and synth riffs. As W.H. Auden once said, in a review of Lord of the Rings: “This is a work that will either totally enthrall you or leave you stone cold, and, whichever your response, nothing and nobody will ever change it.” Over the years I have found this to be true about many of the things I enjoy, including progressive rock and epic fantasy.
I’m glad Anderson is still active and touring. I am too young to have seen the band in their legendary 70s form, having discovered them in the early 90s, when I was in college. Since then, I’ve listened to everything they’ve released, and seen as many tours as I could. I’m not about to stop now. I have tickets to see him again in November, and was so pleased to hear he has planned a 24th album for release next year.
Writing
I’ve been busy preparing a manuscript for release next year; don’t want to give away too much about it, but it will appeal to those who like comedy and spooky stories. It’ll be a great seasonal read for Halloween, and I hope to have the release coincide with that, perhaps late summer.
Think The ‘Burbs meets The Haunting of Hill House. It’s a tale as old as time: Good, Evil, and Home Improvement.
I’ve also been working on a new book, about which I will say even less, since I’m still on draft #1. But it’s humor and fantasy, mixed with some more serious elements.
My hope is that these novels will build on the audience for my first book, The Osprey Man, and appeal to an even wider audience. I learned a lot through the release of my first book, and I hope the rollouts for these forthcoming books will be even better.
By the way, if you’re reading this, but haven’t read The Osprey Man, check out the pinned post on this blog for some reviews. Readers have loved this tale of two youths creating a comic book together, and memorializing their friend. It’s just $15 through my website–contact me for a signed copy. You can also purchase through the publisher for the same price, or get the ebook for just $5.99. It’s great for general readers, or for a young person in your life who loves to read. You can also ask your local library to purchase it; that is a great way to support writers.
Happy Reading!
Kindred, by Octavia Butler
I found Kindred to be such an amazing achievement; wonderfully written, creating such a believable, harrowing world. I plan to read the rest of Butler’s novels in due course, but had to let my thoughts on this one simmer for awhile. This isn’t light beach reading or something you pick up to be distracted. It’s considered one of the monumental works of 20th century science fiction, deservedly so.
Dana, an African American writer, is transported back to the antebellum south, and this is where the horror begins. It is hard to do this book justice, but the day to day life of a slave in the American south is described in great and horrifying detail. Dana becomes the protector of young Rufus Weylin, the heir to a plantation, and she later learns that he is one of her ancestors. Dana travels back and forth between the 1820s and 1976, finding that while she has been in the past for several hours, days, or months, she has usually only been gone for comparatively short periods of time in the present.
Slaves on the Weylin plantation are brutalized, raped, and tortured, and yet Weylin’s father, Tom, their master, is considered by the slaves to be mild in comparison to other slave owners. Families are casually torn apart to pay debts, or in some cases just to prove a point. Dana’s account of these atrocities gives the reader an idea of what slave life was like, and the unimaginable horror of just surviving and enduring.
The book is set during the bicentennial, which is when it was written, and this setting is significant, given how much America was celebrating at that time. But this book is a clear reminder of our brutal, racist, genocidal past. It’s something we must reckon with, if we want to make this country more just and fair.
Kindred is a book everyone should read. It’s a landmark of American literature, a brilliantly written and researched novel and a powerful work of literature. The characters are very nuanced and have so much depth to them. The depiction of the slave community, and the brutality they were subjected to, are so moving and heartbreaking. They are faced with unthinkable choices for their survival, and Dana’s struggle to help them and eventually be liberated has echoes of historical slave narratives, as many critics have pointed out. Butler has said in interviews that she wanted “to make people feel history,“ and she succeeded brilliantly.
Contact, by Carl Sagan
“We all have a thirst for wonder. It’s a deeply human quality. Science and religion are both bound up with it. What I’m saying is, you don’t have to make stories up, you don’t have to exaggerate. There’s wonder and awe enough in the real world. Nature’s a lot better at inventing wonders than we are.”
“She had studied the universe all her life, but had overlooked its clearest message: For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love.” –Carl Sagan, Contact
Carl Sagan had a rare gift for making extremely complex subjects accessible to non-experts. Coupled with his passion for educating the public, he was truly a one of a kind renaissance man who brought the wonder of science to millions. His novel is something no one who enjoyed Cosmos, or his other popular works, should miss.
Contact is the story of how humans might one day communicate with an extra terrestrial race, made plausible by Sagan’s knowledge of science, physics, astronomy, and his talent as a writer. Ellie Arroway, the astronomer/hero of the novel, discovers a signal through a radio telescope, and sets out to decode the message with the help of scientists from around the world. Politics, religion, and mass hysteria become a volatile mix when the public gets wind of the project.
It turns out Sagan’s gifts weren’t limited to teaching and science. He was a poetic writer as well, and the novel is so well written, with such attention paid to characterization, along with scientific explanations for what the astronomers are actually doing. I was impressed with the way he melds hard science with a touching story about a somewhat lonely astronomer, and her efforts to change the world. Sagan also takes religion and politics seriously, and has empathy for those struggling with faith as a result of the discovery of life beyond earth.
In reading Sagan’s work, I get the feeling he was an optimist who loved people, who loved science, and who felt it was in our best interest for the public to be educated on matters that we too often leave to researchers and don’t understand. But he was also a realist, and hoped that we could overcome our petty nationalistic struggles for the good of all humanity. The book shows the interplay of these complex human issues: the nations of earth come together to solve the puzzling message, but soon after, they begin bickering over who will control the message, and who will get credit. The idea of non human intelligence terrifies political and religious leaders, who don’t want their power threatened, or to admit that we might just be a backward, primitive race in comparison to the extra terrestrials.
Sagan’s book brings to bear a whole world of philosophical, scientific, religious, and personal ideas, and I feel it is a must read. It might even inspire you to read more about astronomy and physics, and learn more about the SETI project. As an avid, lifelong reader of science fiction, I don’t know how I didn’t read it for all these years, but I’m so glad I picked it up. At times, I was reading the book hearing Sagan’s voice from Cosmos. His legacy is really secure. I finished it wishing he had written more science fiction. Like scientist/fiction writers such as Asimov, Clarke, or Frederick Hoyle, he might’ve had a long and distinguished career as a science fiction writer, as well.
A Plague of Demons, by Keith Laumer
I’ve been reading authors who are new to me lately, in an effort to try to fill in some gaps in my knowledge. For my birthday, a good friend of mine with impeccable taste sent me a copy of a science fiction collection by Keith Laumer, A Plague of Demons. Laumer reached the height of his career before I was born, so I hadn’t known about him, but I knew it had to be great if my friend recommended it.
I was not disappointed. A Plague of Demons, the novel that leads off the collection, leaps off the page at you from the first sentences. A military thriller/action adventure/science fiction novel, it has a breakneck pace that never lets up, and is filled with surprises and wonders that will reward any reader. I had so much fun reading this and I can’t wait to read more Laumer. In fact, I was at a book sale today and picked up a couple more of his books.
In the near future, the hero, John Bravais, is sent on a secret mission to North Africa, where armies are fighting in a gentlemanly fashion, under the supervision of UN inspectors. Bravais soon learns, however, that demonic aliens are entering the fray, hiding themselves until they can clandestinely kill soldiers and–get this–steal their brains. Why are they doing this? Bravais decides to find out, and spends the rest of the book alternately chasing these demons down and being hunted by them. There is a secret society of humans who try to help him in his quest to thwart the aliens, but the task is almost impossible, since the aliens have far superior technology and are hiding everywhere on earth. They disguise themselves as soldiers and can strike whenever they wish.
I don’t want to reveal too much of the plot, but it turns out the aliens have been abducting soldiers from battles for their brains since at least as far back as the ancient Romans. They take the brains back to their homeworld, place them in giant robots, and use them to fight their wars.
Does this sound bonkers? Yes, but in the best sense of the word. The writing is so lively and the dialogue so sharp that I was laughing out loud. Laumer does a great job with setting up expectations and traps for the reader, and it all reaches a very fun and exciting conclusion. There is one hilarious and action packed scene in which dozens of human soldiers, trapped in their enormous, tank like roboskeletons, attack their oppressors. They are a ragtag bunch from every era of human warfare, yelling Old English and Viking and World War One and Napoleonic battle cries as they take up humanity’s fight against the aliens.
I’d rate this one five stars out of five. It has a bit of everything, and is so fun to read. I love this era of fantasy and science fiction, you never know what kind of story you’re about to get when you start. I’m adding Keith Laumer to my list and want to read more, as will every reader who encounters his work.
Carl Sagan
“We’ve arranged a global civilization in which most crucial elements profoundly depend on science and technology. We have also arranged things so that almost no one understands science and technology. This is a prescription for disaster. We might get away with it for a while, but sooner or later this combustible mixture of ignorance and power is going to blow up in our faces.”
― Carl Sagan, The Demon-Haunted World
I’ve been reading this book, as well as Sagan’s excellent novel, Contact, and am once again so impressed by his writing. Like Arthur C. Clarke or Frederick Hoyle, he might’ve had a long career as a novelist, had he been so inclined.
This particular quote above, from The Demon Haunted World, reminded me a lot of all the op-eds and articles that have been appearing lately, purporting to explain AI and the proliferation of chatbots. These pieces are often written by non-experts, and then parroted back by technocrats with even less understanding of science. Yet people confidently speak of ‘the algorithm’ as if somehow that means they understand it. Sagan was correct, I think, and we are in trouble. Most of us don’t know how any of this technology really works, yet we are chartering a path to allow it to control so much of our lives.
The Last King of Osten Ard
Those of you waiting for Winds of Winter ought to read Tad Williams, if you haven’t already; George RR Martin has credited Williams’ landmark Memory, Sorrow and Thorn trilogy of the 80s and 90s with inspiring him to write A Song of Ice and Fire. I read Williams’ original series years ago and enjoyed it, and have been having a grand time reading The Last King of Osten Ard, Williams’ revisiting of the series, begun with 2017’s The Witchwood Crown.
The Last King of Osten Ard is in every way the equal of Williams’ earlier work. When these kinds of stories get revisited, there is often the worry that the newer installments will not do the originals justice (I’m thinking of you, Star Wars and Star Trek), and fans like me often end up wishing the creators would leave such series alone. But I needn’t have worried about Osten Ard, which has always been in good hands—in some ways I think the new series surpasses the earlier one.
I spent the past several days reading both Brothers of the Wind, a prequel novel, set thousands of years before the events of the Osten Ard books, as well as Into the Narrowdark, the third of the Last King series. Williams has crafted a wonderful tale in both of these works. I found Brothers to be breathtaking in its emotional impact, and a truly unique twist on fantasy fiction. It’s the tale of two Sithi brothers: Ineluki, who would become the Storm King, and Hakatri, his less volatile older sibling. The two of them go on a doomed quest to slay a dragon after Ineluki swears an ill fated oath. The story is told from the point of view of Pamon Kes, the servant of Hakatri, who is setting the tale down years after the fateful events that would shape Osten Ard for centuries to come. This vantage point is brilliantly done, as Kes is constantly questioning his worth, feeling that as a Changeling devoted to the prince Hakatri, his entire worth comes from his ability to serve his master. But as he tells the story, he’s awakened to new possibilities for his own life, as well as the reality that his master is not as perfect as he may have thought.
The story of these two ill-fated brothers is masterfully told. Readers of Memory, Sorrow and Thorn will know that Ineluki will end up being the mad Storm King, a spirit who nearly destroys humanity in the original Osten Ard books. Here, he is a lonely, tragic figure, consumed by anger and his own sense of honor, headstrong, brave, and sympathetic. There’s a sense of tragic fate here, as in the best mythological and fantasy stories. Ineluki’s brother, Hakatri does his best to reign him in and try to save him from his half mad quest. I found this to be an gripping story, and was so impressed with the way Williams makes his readers feel great sympathy for two of the biggest villains of his world.
In reading the new Williams series, I’m reminded of the way Ursula LeGuin revisited Earthsea. In coming back to it, she, like Williams, told a more complex tale, one that turned readers’ expectations upside down. Depending on how a story is told, or how history is written, villains can even become heroes, and there is a lot of exploration of that theme here. For example, the Sithi, who were allies of the Erkynlanders in the first war against the Norns, are in these novels mostly indifferent to the plight of their one time allies, having felt mistreated after the end of that conflict. The Norns, meanwhile, have multiplied and want to avenge what they see as the destruction of their ancestral homelands by the humans—events elaborated on a lot in the prequel novel, in which the Sithi know that the humans will eventually outnumber them and take their lands.
There is still plenty of the stuff that fantasy fans know and love so well: double-dealing, perilous and hopeless quests, epic battles, large scale combat, romance, magic and sorcery—you name it, and Tad Williams has mastered it. (I don’t want to spoil any of the plot or the fun, so I’ll just warn you: beware of kallypooks.) But underneath it all is a nagging sense that things are not going to turn out as you might have expected or hoped. That even villains may have some grievances and grudges worth hearing out, and that not all heroes are beyond reproach. The larger question of who has wronged who in colonizing Osten Ard is the complex underpinning of this whole series, in my opinion. The Norns, led by their sorcerer Queen, Uttuk’ku, seem at first to be evil aggressors, but when you consider what their people have lost, you can understand where their anger comes from. Each chapter is told from the points of view of different characters, which lets you have a lot more sympathy for some of the antagonists.
If these morally grey areas sound somewhat familiar, remember that Williams was doing this in the 80s, as well, with his first series, which inspired great books like A Game of Thrones. Williams has left quite a legacy with these books, and readers who enjoy fantasy are lucky to have him. I read both of these in a week, just couldn’t put them down. Wonderful stuff. Read them, you’ll be enriched for it.
Glenn Jochum, East End Songwriter
Glenn Jochum is a musician of many talents from the East End of Long Island. In describing his music, I would hesitate to call it ‘folk,’ but he definitely has elements of folk rock, a genre which he clearly loves and plays superbly, in his music. I’m not sure if I’d call him a troubadour, but he is, surely, and one of the best ones I’ve seen performing in many years of attending shows. I think what stands out the most in listening to his music is his sense of joy and humor, which shines through in an infectious way, leaving the listener full of good cheer, which is about the highest compliment you can pay a musician, in my view. When he isn’t singing joyfully, he makes you think, asking some tough questions about the world and our place in it. But one thing he is not, is boring. Buy one of his CDs and you won’t regret it. You’ll be going on a musical journey that is well worth the trip. The East End has its own homegrown Steve Goodman, and you really must listen to him.
Living on the Edge of Time is a fine, polished and enormously fun album. “Like Attila the Hun, I can’t have my fun, unless I have something left to conquer,” Jochum croons on the roots-rock opener to this album, a line that is enough to make even the most serious political observer burst out laughing. The song was recorded in the aftermath of Trump’s disturbing victory in 2016. Most of us were too shell shocked to make sense of it, but Jochum has some grim fun with the idea. The band sounds like they are having as much fun as he is, laying a groove out of the ashes.
Hypocrite Blues is another standout track from this record. “I just don’t want to walk this world alone/Well, I hate them holy rollers, oh I hate them to the bone,” he sings, crying out in the voice of all people of conscience who can’t stand preachers of any kind. Please, take my advice and listen to this song instead of going to church. It’ll do more good for you, and you’ll be sure to feel better than you would listening to a preacher.
The title track on this one is a bit more introspective, an excellent way to cap off the fun you’ll have with this album. It’s slightly downbeat: “Do you feel the rustle that runs through the trees? Creatures and torment on the edge of time,” he sings. It’s a poetic image, restless and thoughtful. “Running out of Room,” which rounds out this collection, is another memorable political tune which reminded me of the best Grateful Dead songs, political and space-rock at the same time. “Mathemeticians, politcians, are you looking at the moon? Colonizing, subsidizing, we are running out of room,” he sings. It might not be a comforting thought, but Jochum delivers it with a style that will make you glad to hear the message.
I give this album a wholehearted five stars. If you have a chance to see Glenn Jochum and his band, do it. You’ll feel better for it, refreshed, the way music is supposed to make you feel.
My Little Town is another wonderful album of roots rock tunes. Played with Steve Leighton, this is a great collection of songs that remind me of Delbert McClinton or Joe Ely. These guys may be from the East End, but they would not sound out of place in a honky tonk saloon. On “Sunrise Sunrise,” Jochum sings in a confident blues growl: “Maybe she won’t come back to me/I’ll go and see her best friend Marie,” a time tested way for a blues singer to shake the blues, as you undoubtedly will when you buy this record.
The title song is another fine, memorable tune, an ode to his hometown. “Pure as the driven snow, cotton candy, saddle shoes and picture shows,” he sings, evoking the best kind of nostalgia for one’s hometown. No matter where you are from, hopefully you can relate to this; the luckiest among us can. And even if you can’t, these are universal truths about the past, seen through the lens of a man who has great affection for his roots. All of our towns should be viewed with such kindness: “You’re the keeper of history, the one thing left that’s free.” It’s a lucky town that can call this songwriter their own.
You should not miss this album. If you want blues rock with heart, you can’t go wrong with Glenn Jochum and his band.
If you’re feeling romantic, “Anything for You” is a collection of Jochum’s songs dealing with cupid’s arrow. As on his other albums, this is a really fun mix of blues licks, funny and at times unexpected lyrics, memorable melodies, and all around fine songcraft. As I listened, I was reminded of seeing Willie Nelson, who remarked at a show that I attended as a young man that love songs and songs of heartbreak were always successful “because none of us are with our first choice,” a hilarious observation that succinctly explains the popularity of such songs through the centuries. Jochum’s contribution to this genre are a mix of songs of praise, to songs of sadly broken promises. “Hang on to your pride,” is good advice for any lover; “Let laughter be your guide,” Jochum wisely sings. This might be his philosophy in his songs, and if so, it’s a good, worthy one.
A wise man once said that writing about music is like dancing about architecture, so I think I’ll end here. Give these albums a listen. Like I said, he’s our own homegrown songwriter; you won’t be disappointed.
Time Bandits
One of the fun things about being a parent is showing your children things you enjoyed as a child. We read lots of different books and comics and watch movies together; most of the movies and TV my children watch is contemporary, but a good chunk of it consists of gems I enjoyed growing up. They mostly choose their own books but we read some of the cream of the crop together, as well.
Last night, we watched the 1981 classic, Time Bandits, Terry Gilliam’s family adventure film. I hadn’t seen this in decades, and wow, I was surprised how well it holds up. What a wonderful film. I recall watching the movie as a child, and the memories I have of it include John Cleese hilariously playing Robin Hood, Michael Palin as a lovelorn wimp, some great adventure scenes, witty, sharp dialogue, and a whole lot of fun. It’s a wonderful story of time traveling thieves, equipped with a magical map stolen from the Supreme Being. But seeing it as an adult made me view it differently–though all these wonderful comic elements are there, it’s a tale of a lonely child, the kind who is often seen in Roald Dahl novels.
The hero of this story is a young boy named Kevin, who is sympathetic from the opening scenes of the film. His parents are more interested in watching television and buying new gadgets than they are in their poor, lonely son, who escapes to his room to read and play with toy soldiers, only to be screamed at by his dad for making too much noise.
What dad doesn’t know is that the racket up in Kevin’s room was made by a knight on horseback who crashes through a wall, leaping over Kevin. But Kevin wonders if it were a dream, since the room quickly goes back to normal.
But Kevin does escape his mundane world when the Time Bandits break through the next night. By turns hilarious, greedy, selfish, and kind, Kevin’s diminutive companions are completely inept at what they do. They’re using the map to travel through space and time, only to steal valuables from guys like Napoleon and Agamemnon. Each time they make a leap through time, they fall from the sky and crash in a heap atop one another, sometimes smashing into innocent bystanders. It’s a hilarious and painful entrance every time. Yet all they do with this incredible ability to time travel is petty thieving. At one point, Kevin, having been taken from Agamemnon’s court, where he was to be the king’s heir, is despondent at this state of affairs, telling the leader of the Bandits, Randall, that the bandits have this amazing artifact, with which they can do anything, yet they choose to just go around stealing things. Kevin says, wistfully, of Agamemnon, “Money wasn’t important to him,” to which Randall replies, “He didn’t have anything to spend it on, did he?”
It’s a telling moment in the film; the young boy has perceived that even his new swashbuckling friends are barely better than his parents. They have the key to the universe, and what they want to use it for is to become rich.
Kevin does influence his group of pals, so that at the end they rescue him from Evil, who wants the map for himself. They risk themselves to save him, and it’s heartwarming to see Kevin’s kindness rub off on them.
But then God shows up, and everyone must leave, once Evil is destroyed. Kevin is in despair at this. He points out that God let dozens of people die, just to prove a point with his map and the Time Bandits. “Why does there have to be evil?” Kevin asks. “I think it’s something to do with free will,” the Supreme Being replies.
And Kevin is sent home. He awakens to his house burning down, and is saved by a fireman. His parents could not care less about his brush with death, and bicker on the lawn about their lost toaster, ignoring their son totally. They touch pieces of evil that Kevin has returned with, and immediately explode. Agamemnon, now a fireman, smiles at Kevin as he drives away in the fire truck. The movie ends with Kevin alone.
My son was on the verge of tears at this. I thought maybe he was upset at the dead parents, but that didn’t make sense, since Kevin’s parents were cruel and mean and shallow. No, my son explained that Kevin had had so much fun with his bandit pals, and now they were gone and the boy was alone.
Not exactly a comforting ending, but I guess Terry Gilliam’s movies are not there to comfort you.
This film is told with such good humor and wit and rapid fire jokes that it’s hard to take this too seriously as an adult, but my son was right. Maybe the best adults can do is save you and protect you, then wink and nod and send you on your way. The best strangers you meet will do that. And a lot of them, including God, are worth very little unless a kind-hearted child tells them they ought to behave.
Christopher Tuthill 