Album Review: Scurrilous by Protest the Hero

This is my first crack at a music review, so we'll see how this goes... Disclaimer: as much as I would love it, I'm not a musician (nor can I play an instrument, other than my voice--it counts!!!--though I'm sure I could learn if I tried and had the time/energy) so I'm not going into music-y jargon, since I'm only somewhat familiar with it. Scurrilous, the latest record from proggy metal Canadians Protest the Hero, came out in March this year, so it's not super-new. But I wanted to choose something by an established band that came out this year...and as far as recent music goes I've mostly been listening to relative unknowns for the most part this year, so it's one of the only albums that came out in the past six months that I've listened to a few times. Of course, I'll show the unknowns some love later on...I just need to get a feel for this.

Anyway, the opening anthem, "C'est La Vie," is a frenetic, campy, dance up and down the musical ladder, setting the perfect scene for the tone of the rest of the album. I think that one may just be my favorite, though "Tandem," "Dunsel," "Termites," and campy "Sex Tapes" also exemplify the best of Protest the Hero. The rest of the album flows in much the same vein, a fast-paced journey along the frets of the bassist and guitarist. at moments, the bass, often buried beneath the combined melodies of the two guitars, rises to the top of the track with a frenetic slap rhythm. Rody Walker's vocals often stride the line between clean and screams, matching the smooth/grating sliding scale on the accompanying guitarists Tim Millar and Luke Hoskin's riffs. The 80s-hairmetal vocal flourishes that made Fortress's "Sequoia Throne" stand out from more typical breakdown-heavy metalcore that's sprung like daisies in the past five years or so add an even more flavorful layer to Scurrilous than in their debut. While the guitars are solid and often command more attention than the vocalist, like in many metal bands, they don't spill into sprawling solos that some prog bands often do. Scurrilous's often campy lyrics and vocal style, in addition to the fast pacing of the instrumentals, can invoke the cartoonish, and may be suitable for proggers with shorter attention spans. Prog metal for the internet age! like the guitars up and down the frets, Walker's vocals slide back and forth from the smooth clean singing to the more grating screams, with varying degrees in between. Walker's lyrics also help set the band apart, with such comical verses as the following from "Sex Tapes": "The Jonas generation's got rings wrapped 'round their dicks/The whole world waits with patience for one of them boys to slip" In addition to the clever use of rhyme, the lyrics have come comedy aspect to them, making the music more fun than a bummer (but still awesome) and the vocals create the over-the-top theatricality of the lyrical themes. I daresay it's poetic. The best songs, though, slow down and take a breath. Perhaps because I like the occasional clean vocals in heavy music, but when Walker breaks into full-on melodies and the rhythm slows down, I'm ready to sing myself. There are many hallmark signs that a musician has effectively engaged the listener: headbanging, toe-tapping, air-guitaring or -drumming, lip-syncing, or (in certain circumstances) singing or dancing. Protest the Hero makes me want to do all of these things. Their riffs and refrains are catchy as fuck. There is no question that these guys know their shit: the guitars are so fast I imagine that it would be difficult for an amateur to keep up with them. In another comparison to Fortress, Scurrilous sounds better produced and mixed, lending to a higher-quality, better-blended sound (or maybe it was just my shitty copy of Fortress). Because nothing's perfect (example: the guitars can overwhelm the other musical contributors), I give it a nine out of 10 stars: their best album yet.

Freedom Isn't Free...except at the Library

I have to admit, I decided to read Freedom by Jonathan Franzen, this oft-acclaimed novel by an oft-acclaimed author with much prejudice against it. It was this book that caused a kerfuffle in the literary world and sparked conversation about how women writers are not given their due as men are, even though more women are participating in writing programs these days. So, I kind of resented Freedom at first because it's by a dude, and sounded overrated. Another novel about middle-class white people by a middle-class white dude, hooray.

But I heard some positive things about it (or at least Franzen) from my co-workers, so I decided to put my re-reading of the Harry Potter series on hold, and give this book a shot. I was being unfair about not reading it, anyway.

And...it was well-woven web. Franzen can write an artfully crafted sentence, when he tries. Though at over 500 pages and with very lengthy chapters, it was easy to forget what was happening in the first place. Focusing on character development is an admirable achievement, but sometimes the reader can lost in pointless meanderings.

**WARNING: SPOILERS**

The premise is outlined in the first section, "Good Neighbors," in which we're introduced to the central family of the story: Walter, a rabid environmentalist; Patty, a passive-aggressive housewife; Jessica, their "good girl" daughter; and Joey, the spoiled but charming son. Life is mostly good, until their neighbor gets a new beau and Joey moves in with them. His smothering mother is severely upset (compounded by the fact that he's sleeping with the neighbor's daughter, whom she didn't like very much) and Walter practically bursts a blood vessel about it. This results in about five years of estrangement between the parents and son, with very little interaction between them.

But the real story revolves around Walter and Patty's marriage--a love story, of sorts. It appears at first to mostly have been a one-sided thing, with Patty lusting over Walter's best friend Richard (who of course is a musician...almost nothing is sexier) even before they started going out. Of course, they both cheat on Walter one summer by sleeping with each other. Freedom is, above all else, a character study on this couple and how their relationships and personalities change and affect one another as time goes on. This is obvious because the years before they met are confined not even to one chapter each.

At various points throughout the book, I found each main character to be very, very annoying. Walter was annoying because of his bottled-up rage at everybody, and having the hots for his assistant Lalitha (who in turn was annoying because of course she had the hots for him!), Joey was annoying because he was a selfish prick (though he learns the error of his ways), and Richard--the least annoying of the bunch, for he was cool and more honest than his bff (the second-best character)--annoying for giving in to Patty's advances and fucking everything up. Patty was all-around annoying at almost every turn, redeeming herself at the very end--like, the last chapter the end. I did not understand her appeal. So I didn't like any of them. Yet I stuck with these people for 500 pages, I guess the story was compelling enough. Though I wasn't rooting for Walter and Patty to stay together.

But--oh, man, the buts. Perhaps I was just looking for something to hate, but I didn't like how the main women were all typical, except maybe for Patty. And we get to see her as more than just a housewife and ex-basketball player because a good chunk of the story is told in her voice. All the other female characters are fuzzy and flat: we get most of the input about them from the main characters (e.g: thus, Lalitha is the sexy, earnest, hot-for-her-boss assistant archetype we've all seen before). It also irked me that Joey gets more of the spotlight than Jessica--we get his background and perspective, why not hers? Though now that I think of it, a lot of the characters were pretty cookie-cutter (see descriptions above). I also think Lalitha was totally fridged at the 500-page mark to allow for a nice, clean resolution. Yes, I didn't like her much, but I resent plot twists that pop out of nowhere in what is supposed to be "literary" fiction and not pulp chick lit (which is what this book would be if it wasn't so long and meandering and political).

The ending was...cute. Everyone kind of got what they wanted and found their happiness. Which is...again, cute. Perhaps not the feeling Franzen was going for?

Then there's the premises: a failing marriage, cheating, hypocrisy. Plus the freedom thing. We've seen it before in different incarnations. As I read on, I started to think, I'm not the target demographic for this. And I'm definitely not: this novel is more for college-educated adults in their 30s-50s, and grad students who have gotten over their experimentalist phase. Franzen is probably unpretentious, even down-to-earth, if we are to go by his in-depth portrayals of a "modern" American family (that's still white, middle-class, and patriarchal). This perspective is all too familiar to me, which makes the subject matter somewhat tired. Perhaps it's my youth, but I crave fiction that's new and different, in a way.

Which begs the question...why is the title "Freedom"? What does "freedom" have to do with it? There are several allusions to it in the book, mainly when characters are discussing walking away from marriage, plus the phrase "how to live" pops up frequently. As hard to define "freedom" is, it could be applied to just about everything in this novel--and that's the point. The freedom to fuck up and make up? To leave your spouse, your family, and still hope to come back someday? To do what you want? Probably all of the above. Obviously it's meant to provoke thought. But seriously, reading this book gave me realism fatigue. It's the only way to describe it. I don't want to think about this effing book anymore. 3/5 stars. Back to Harry Potter!

*In addition to realism, I will also be taking a break from book reviews for a little while. Maybe I'll put up some reviews about music, movies, or TV. Stay tuned.*

Beauty Queens is not as it Seems

Every once in a while, an avid reader's got to have some fun. Sometimes (say, during the summer) that means picking out a YA book and spend the weekend lounging in the park or on the beach to read it. This makes YA--and other "easy" genre novels--my summer reads of choice. A couple weekends ago (I've been busy OK) I read Beauty Queens, which hit bookstores this past June. The first thing that's obvious in the first few pages: the title and cover are very misleading.

The basic premise is this: a bunch of girls on their way to the ultimate beauty pageant are stranded on a deserted island after their plane crashes. Needless to say, most of them died. Though since this is a comic novel, the dead pageant girls are killed off in the beginning. That may seem like a Lord of the Flies with shallow, narcissistic girls, but it doesn't quite turn out like that. In fact, the surviving girls all band together and create a small, thriving community on the island. But, it turns out that the Corporation (apparently all real-world corporations combined) is operating a secret lair, of sorts, on the island, and is planning to deal the dictator of a small country weapons in exchange for greater market share.

Part of what makes this novel great is its over-the-top portrayal of advertising, celeb-politicians, and what I call "brand-masking" (the practice of making up a sillier version of a real-world product, place, or person, to avoid lawsuits or just for fun). But these are often staples of comic YA entertainment, camp and all. What really stands out about this novel was its fairly diverse range of characters and the thoughtful, progressive ways in which their issues were addressed. All the surviving girls confronted the limitations society imposed on them because of their gender, and they learned to be more tolerant and comfortable with who they are. There was also very little girl-girl rivalry, even when hot TV pirates were introduced.

Plus, each of the nine main characters (in addition to the five supporting girls) experience significant change/growth as people as a result of this experience, each going beyond what they all learned collectively and according to whatever issues/prejudices they came to the island with. Also, they don't all get boyfriends, and are happy with that. This sort of honest and thoughtful inclusion of feminist issues is not very common in YA lit, and it's great to see a novel that goes beyond the mainstream. The climax/ending are Teen-TV silly, but this is a comedy for teens we're talking about here.

That said, this is a perfect novel for a feminist reader in need of beach reads--or even for someone who could use some entertaining enlightenment (perhaps an aspiring beauty queen?). If YA that pokes fun at the very things that target this demographic are your thing, then you'll also enjoy it. I give it a (fairly generous) 4/5.

Invitation to a Beheading, by Vladimir Nabokov: Initial Thoughts

Vladimir Nabokov, a fellow I've written about before, has quite a broad body of work that extends well beyond Lolita. His work, from what I've read, epitomized the transitional period in the 20th century from the modernists like Joyce and Woolf, to the postmodern writers such as Barth and Pynchon. Nabokov's narratives are thoughtful as they are funny and entertaining, hardly containing self-seriousness in spite of of the grim subject matter. This novel, originally released in Russian in the 1930s, doesn't delve into the worlds of academia and American lovestory road trips, but rather very European themes relating to an absurdly oppressive and classist environment.

The person who is to be beheaded, Cincinnatus, is being held in a castle-like fortress for a vaguely defined crime of the mind. His captors refuse to tell him the date of his execution, and they and all the other characters behave in infuriating ways. But this is not realism, nor a fairy tale... the illogical and inconsistent framework of the world lead us to believe that this is perhaps a dream world--hinted at further with references to two Cinncinatuses. Whether or not the "real" Cincinnatus is imprisoned for a "mind crime", real or imaginary, is unclear in a first read-through. Of course, the dream-world theory seems perfectly logical when one thinks of her own dreams--and how, ironically, things that happen in her dreams often occur outside of her dream-self's control--even inexplicable things like your cell neighbor forming a tunnel through your wall and your in-laws lugging in their furniture with them when they visit. The story is realistic in its representation of surrealism.

One could say that Invitation is somewhat of a cross between Alice and Wonderland (with illogical rules believed to be logical by everyone but the protagonist) and The Trial (with its political themes and veiled critique of the justice system--as well as an unnameable crime). Both pre-date Invitation. Like both of these works, Invitation causes some confusion (after all, most of us are used to reading stories in which the worlds depicted follow some set of logical laws) and probably warrants a second read, ismply due to the strangeness of the world portrayed. I can see how this purely surrealistic structure did not garner a lot of popularity, even while the author was well-established by the time it was printed in English. But, as a fan of surrealism, I did enjoy it, and Nabokov's narrative style is never a chore to read. That was what really set it apart from The Trial--Kafka's grimness was often too deadpan for my taste.

The political themes were subtle; obviously, the bogus imprisonment and beheading-as-entertainment were comments on oppressive European regimes (such as Russia) but the story had a quasi-historical air to it (I kept imagining the characters in late-19th-century garb--plus the fortress seemed a helluva lot like a castle). If you read it, read it for its stylistic merits, and check off another book on your Nabokov reading list.

Hidden Gems: All I Wanna Do (aka The Hairy Bird/Strike)

I've found that Gawker's a really good place to find something new. This goes for just about everything: books, music, movies, TV shows...

While the articles on this site amalgamation do talk about these different forms of entertainment, one can find some interesting recommendations in the comments, which are often far better for the researcher of precious pieces of art that fell out of range of the pop-culture radar (or at least, my pop-culture radar) dominant in one's time.

The other day I uncovered such a discovery: a reference to a movie this commenter dubbed "The Hairy Bird." I was intrigued, especially since one of the movie's stars is Kirsten Dunst (an actor I'm rather fond of) and centers around an all-girl's school (a setting that I am at least intrigued by, if I haven't watched a lot of movies/read a lot of books about girls' schools). I immediately searched for it online, under the name of "Strike! (All I Wanna Do)"... and in the title credits it's called "All I Wanna Do"...with a vaguely pubic peach-colored bird prancing around the names in the cartoon opening. Why it goes by so many titles, I'm not sure...and I'm not really a fan of any of them.



The premise: in the 1960s, an all-girl's school is about to go co-ed due to a lack of funds, and several of the girls object to this change. Thus, they plot to thwart the Board's plans, which include making the boys of the school they're to merge with look like their true selves--that is, assholes.

I liked the movie a lot. It's an adventurous girls' school comedy that endorses empowering, testosterone-free havens of learning for girls--and presents that case in a compelling way. While there are a few tropes typical of this kinds of movie (the girls rebel, there's a prissy stuck-up foil who's picked on by the protagonists, and all wrongs are righted in the end, and rather quickly), All I Wanna Do stood out drastically from a lot of the other high school movies I've seen. Not least because female solidarity and sexuality were central themes.

The cast is, naturally, predominantly female, the teenaged girls are horny (even in 1961!) and not ashamed to admit it. The characters also had other interests besides boys, and most had careers in mind for their post-secondary plans. Dunst's character could be labeled the "mean girl;" but her meanness has a different motive. And in the end, she grows and changes--not a comeuppance. Of course, her status as a "mean girl" is more attributable to her role as a clever mischief-maker than as one of the "popular girls." She and the primary protagonist do become friends, after all. The one characterization I had specific issue with was that of Heather Matarazzo's (of Princess Diaries and Welcome to the Dollhouse recognition), who played a girl who obviously suffered from disordered eating, if not bulimia--and the others, who were supposed to be friends, treated it like it was just some weird diet. Granted, they probably didn't know how bad eating disorders really were in the 60s, but a tad bit of sensitivity would have helped. (On the other hand, her roommate, another not-conventially-pretty character, was much more self-confident)

But what truly shines is the dialogue. In addition to the kooky catchphrases like "up your ziggy with a wa-wa brush", the characters express thoughts pertaining to the larger themes of the movie in realistic ways... even if they came off as a little obvious. I had not really thought about how co-education marginalized women for decades because the boys were too often considered the smarter, more capable, and more valuable members of the classroom, as they were the ones who were expected to go to college and have a career. At an all-girl's school, girls were better able to learn because they weren't being ignored. It made me think, and further sympathize with the protagonists. As stuffy as the girls' school was, they were all up against the man--quite literally.

Plus this movie's really funny. I give it four out of five stars for sheer uniqueness and entertainment value!

What the Death of Borders Means to Me

This past week, former bookstore behemoth Borders succumbed to the inevitable and liquidated its remaining assets, i.e., closing the rest of its stores and going out of business. Now, there were a lot of factors that contributed to its demise--a changing literary landscape, widespread digitalization, the rise of Amazon, egregious mismanagement, etc.--that led the majority of the publishing and bookselliing world to conclude that Borders would not last the year. And these factors have been discussed thoroughly by those more knowledgeable than I, who agree that Borders should just die already.

My personal experience with Borders was not a terrible one--far from it. Though hardly as charming as the numerous smaller, intimate indie bookstores in the Boston area (my current place of residence), it retained the mute, cozy presence of bookstores that I do enjoy. And considering that many of its stores were pretty large, it was easy to just spend hours in the store and get tempted to buy any book I found the least bit interesting. In all, Borders didn't particularly stand out from other bookstores, except that it was huger.

But for most of my life thus far, I haven't lived in a town with a lot of bookstores--at least, not many that I knew of. (for my first sixteen years, I was dependent on my parents for transportation and had restricted access to the internet, so I didn't really know about the indie bookstore gems hidden in the 30-mile radius of my hometown) So for much of my childhood and adolescence, there was only the Waldenbooks at the mall, plus the library. Much later, a Barnes & Noble opened. And not too long after that, the Waldenbooks closed. (gee I wonder why?)


Waldenbooks was its own independent bookstore chain for 50 years before it got bought by K-Mart in 1984, then merged with Borders in 1994, and became an entity inseparable from Borders starting in 2004. So for most of the time I went to this Waldenbooks, it was already a part of Borders. I got rather attached to this store, needless to say. In addition to plenty of picks for my hungry young mind to peruse through, this Waldenbooks had an impeccable selection of manga--which was a godsend to me after my former go-to manga shop (and the place where my otaku phase started) closed. Barnes and Noble's manga offerings, by comparison, were pathetic, especially to a fan of shojo manga (they mostly had shonen manga and more adult stuff). (In other old sad news, TokyoPop, the publisher of some of my all-time favorite manga titles, folded this year, as well) Since I'm usually indifferent to salespeople when I already know what I'm looking for, I liked Waldenbooks because I could find what I was looking for, and even find something new that I didn't even know about. There were more than a few times when I walked out of that store with books that I didn't even know existed when I went in. Waldenbooks was my go-to place to spend my gift money--I hardly ever needed to give it a second thought. When I found out that it closed, I was saddened by the loss, indeed. Though at that point I was only living at home part-time, so it wasn't as big of a deal as the anime store closing was.

So, while Borders never really meant much to me, Waldenbooks did. And Waldenbooks was already dead.

As for what the future holds? Ultimately, I'm glad Borders is dead. I hope that this brings in new indie bookstores to neighborhoods that now will no longer harbor the increasingly obscure niche that is a bookstore, people will patronize their local libraries more often, and indie authors, publishers, and booksellers alike will be able to flourish with one less corporation grabbing for their shallow purses. One unfortunate consequence could be that Amazon grows even larger, putting publishers in a stranglehold and overshadowing the intrepid brick-and-mortar booksellers who just can't compete with Amazon's price gauging. I hope that the death of Borders will help to usher in a new era of publishing, as publishers and booksellers rethink their current models more seriously.

In all, I hope Borders will not die in vain.

Photo cred: Culture Tease and the Carnegie Center blog

More Posthumous Praise for David Foster Wallace

The other day at work I had the pleasure of proofreading an anthology of essays by contemporary writers, thinkers, and journalists, which featured two essays by the one and only David Foster Wallace. I also just recently finished reading his essay collection A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again. I've written a bit about him before, and I'd like to expand my thoughts to his nonfiction, which bears a lot of similar characteristics to his fiction--albeit less tangential and unorthodoxically structured.

Wallace is one of those writers whom you like more and more as you get more familiar with their particularly peculiar style (like that great guy who's a little rough around the edges, a new bicycle, or prog-rock bands). The first work of his that I read, I liked enough to read more, and after reading three whole books by him (Infinite Jest, Fun Thing, and Interviews), he's become one of my favorite writers. I read Infinite Jest too early to truly enjoy it, as I think I'd like it better now that I'm more accustomed to Wallace's style. Perhaps I will read it, in bits and pieces, again.

But what's much more remarkable about Wallace's writing is his voice. This is most apparent in his essays, as his fiction isn't always third person. The details he gives in both genres are so intricate and yet so strange and striking as to almost be hyperbolic, making the mundane and generally not very interesting (tennis, state fairs, Caribbean cruises, among others) absurd and extraordinary. Wallace's journalistic style is observational and honest to his point of view. He also meanders from topic to topic, though it all underlies the same basic themes of the essay.

One of the numerous praises included in this edition of the book called Wallace, unimaginatively, "smart and funny"...and that really sums up his narrative voice (though the phrase "clever and humorous" better reflects his writing level). Though the more carefully crafted writing voice is not necessarily indicative of an individual's speech abilities, I can imagine that Wallace would be rather a pleasure to converse with--and it makes me all the more sad that I will not be able to meet him, at least in this life (not that I'd ever have the guts to approach an admirable writer at a book signing or whatever).

What's more (and this is what I was originally getting at) is that his writing voice makes him a person who's so--likable. Part of it is the fact that he does not write himself out of the nonfiction story he's telling (very often because he is experiencing the subject), so we get a lot of his perspective. And I found that I could identify with his various thoughts about a given situation, since he reasoned them so well. And I don't agree with Wallace on all things, by all means. He does acknowledge his privileges and shortcomings (though he doesn't feel entirely good about it), and he's nonjudgmental. Wallace occasionally ribs on a strikingly funny character of a person, and certainly expresses pity for and admits an inability to identify with ordinary folks, but does not accuse anyone of anything. Rather, he almost admires these ordinary people who end up in his essays, as he himself feels like a dysfunctional member of society. Though perhaps they could stand to be a bit more thoughtful (not in a condescending way, though).

It's impossible for me to say whether his writing style was indicative of his true self--one would think that such thoughtful prose would only come from the heart of the writer, as it often is. And from some of the posthumous articles I've read about him, it seems as though it does ring true. There's enough to say about David Foster Wallace to make up an entire dissertation (if someone hasn't already, I'm sure they're on it now that his oeuvre is complete), but for the sake of brevity, I'll stop here. If unusual, funny, and absurdist fiction or nonfiction floats your boat, check out his writing!