A new Sherlock Holmes film comes to theatres, and since I hadn’t seen the original of Guy Ritchie’s variant of Sherlock Holmes, I figured time had to come to watch it.

It’s hard not to compare it to Sherlock, the BBC series starring Benedict Cumberbatch, but it’s also stupid to resist it. Both are reimaginings of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s legendary character, and they’re both completely different in every way. While Sherlock is modernized, Sherlock Holmes are contemporary to the book. Sherlock is about Holmes’ mind, and Sherlock Holmes is an action film.

I cannot dismiss Sherlock Holmes as simply an action film, however. There’s a lot more to the Holmes character than just running around and punching others, as the trailers would have one believe, but the intellect, and resourcefulness of Holmes does not come across to the audience in the film. The audience does see the workings of Holmes’ mind, but it’s never anything that a slightly astute person could conclude on their own.

Whoever thought Ritchie was the person to helm a Sherlock Holmes film, obviously never read the books, and it seems that Ritchie had just finished OAC English, and was eager to show his knowledge of elementary symbolism. Yes, I get it, a crow is there, someone will die.  Wow, a crow representing death, that’s so clever little high school boy.

The special effects are jarring, as the majority of many shots are CGI, and look obviously like CGI. It removes one from the story.

I’ll still go see the sequel, as I’m not paying, apparently, and it’s a communal gathering with friends, but honestly, I look forward to New Years Day when I can watch the new episode of Sherlock.

There’s this awesome dude named Sherwin Tjia who throws awesome events in Toronto and Montreal (sometimes in Ottawa). He’s organized slow dances, and crowd karaoke, and strip spelling bees, and cardboard fort building nights. The last might have been my favourite, because of who I met there, though the spelling bees have boobies.

This weekend he launched his new book called You Are A Cat. It’s a sendup of the Choose Your Own Adventure books all ’80s children knew and loved. However, it’s different than the ’80s books from what I remember. As a child I don’t remember those books having much in the way of heavy subject matters, but Tjia’s book certainly does. The protagonist, you, a cat, gets to choose what cat-like activities you wish to enjoy.

You live with a dysfunctional family, and while you as a cat do not necessarily understand all the nuances of their lives, the reader can certainly understand it.

Where the book lacks is in the character development. The reader¹ only gets a very brief glimpse into who these people are, and the heavy events in their lives. As a cat, you’re obviously an observer of these events, but as a human reading the book, you do want to know more about these decisions. During my reading I mostly stayed indoors, as I found the humans’ lives to be the most interesting.

The good thing is I know I have another few reads of the book, where the adventure will be very different.

1. Too passive of a word, the picker? [↩]

This month I turn 30. To mark such a remarkable event, I’m spending every day of October drenched in awesome-sauce.

Went to Canzine. It was fun. Got a copy of Static Zine volume 2, and bought one of Aviva’s killer cookie stuffed cookies. I also bought a present for Violet.

This month I turn 30. To mark such a remarkable event, I’m spending every day of October drenched in awesome-sauce.

Last night I went to a weird alley in Kensington which in turn led to a staircase up to a strange bar I’ve never been in.  It was a packed house where Rob Benvie of Thrush Hermit fame was to be reading from his new novel. I didn’t quite understand why the place was so packed, but I quickly found Natalia and Tim and hung out with those two for a while. After hanging around for a while, we spotted Val, in the audience, and chatted with her. Turns out she’s in a choir called Choir! Choir! Choir! who were performing that night. In addition, about 70% of the audience were also in Choir! Choir! Choir!

Benvie read a portion of his book, and I still hate being read to. It’s this weird problem I have, nothing against his prose. As he was finishing his reading, Choir! Choir! Choir! made their way up on the stage, and packed it like sardines. Suddenly the bar seemed empty. They performed two songs from the 1990s (when the book is set), one I didn’t recognize, and “Waterfalls” the TLC song, not the Paul McCartney song.

After that Benvie read more from his book, and shortly afterwards, a new band took the stage featuring Matt Murphy of Super Friendz/Flashing Lights fame. They played a handful of songs that were okay, but didn’t sound too tight. There was a large amount of feedback, leaving much of the audience with fingers in their ears. Who goes to club shows without earplugs? It really wasn’t anything special.

From there I had a quick walk up Augusta to College where I went to Rancho Relaxo. Closing the night at Rancho was Different Skeletons, a band featuring three awesome dudes, two of which are named Daniel. Unfortunately there were still two bands playing sets, and they both kinda sucked. So I spent those hours talking with Different Skeletons, their ladies, and other assorted friends.  Most of the time was with Julie and (drummer) Dan¹. I’ve known Juile for years now, and about a year ago, she and Dan had a party at their place. I was chatting with Julie in the hallway, when Jamie walks by. Turns out that Jamie and (guitarist) Daniel’s band Fat City had lost their drummer and now formed Different Skeletons with Dan. It was slightly to weird to see two very distinct aspects of my life merge in an unexpected way, but it made for more opportunities to hang out with friends.

Different Skeletons then set up their gear on the dance floor, and performed a set which was sloppy at first, but got much better as the band went on. Dan’s drums were super loud, being immediately beside the audience, but fortunately ear plugs were invented. At first you couldn’t hear Jamie’s guitar, until about halfway through his songs². The performances got better until their poorly attempted cover of Joel Plaskett’s “Nowhere With You.” All in all a fun set.

After an hour or two of goodbyes, I realized that the TTC was closed, and I didn’t want to cab back home, so I started walking east along College. From there I went to Queen’s Park. The Legislature is beautiful at night. I wandered the grounds of the Legislature and looked at the many statues in Queen’s Park.

From there I continued walking east, until I collapsed in my bed.

1. Julie pops up from time to time in the site header, she’s the cute super-skinny girl. [↩]
2. Jamie and Daniel swap guitar and bass, playing one person’s songs, then the other’s. [↩]

It’s been a month since I last posted (other than yesterday’s debate review), but I’ve read a lot of books in that time.

Bossypants by Tina Fey

I learned a lot about Tina Fey’s life, for one, I learned that she has a big scar on her face. When she first started discussing it, I assumed she was joking, apparently she actually has a big scar on her face.

Definitely a lot of laughs in this book, but also a lot of insight into Fey’s mind. This was the first book I read on an iPad, as such I highlighted some of my favourite text.

Donna was an enigma wrapped in bacon wrapped in a crescent roll.

I never went to summer camp, as I was neither underprivileged nor Jewish nor extremely Christian, nor obese.

A childhood dream, realized (not the one where I’m being chased by Count Chocula)

It’s the same reason I don’t get Hooters. Why do we need to enjoy chicken wings and boobies at the same time? Yes, they are a natural and beautiful party of the human experience. And so are boobies.

My proudest moment as a child was the time I beat my uncle Pierre at Scrabble with the seven-letter word FARTING.

HA!

Red Snow by Susumu Katsumata

This collection of short stories didn’t thrill me, actually this one I disliked very much. The stories were dull, and seemed to have no point. I actually gave up on this one after about a hundred pages.

The drawings weren’t anything to keep me interested, and with lackluster stories, there was nothing to keep me, not even the tasty teas at Broadview Espresso.

I need to kill space so that the bottom of this image doesn’t overlap the next title.

My Most Secret Desire by Julie Doucet

Julie Doucet’s My Most Secret Desire is a series of short stories about her dreams. Much like Red Snow, the art wasn’t anything that appealed to me. Her giant-headed humans were awkward and the backgrounds were too detailed that they took away from the foreground.

Her stories were interesting at first, but they got to be too much of the same as the book went on. Her most interesting dreams were the ones where she was a man, mostly because the absurdity of them.

Shortcomings by Adrian Tomine

I adored this book. It’s the story of a couple in California who go their separate ways as she moves to New York.

It’s a sad tale of the man of the couple trying to figure out what to do with his life, and how to learn to relate to others.

He’s absolutely hopeless in all areas of his life, and has a sense of entitlement.

It’s a good 20-something coming of age story.

500 Years of Resistance by Gord Hill

This book is touching on an extremely important subject, which overshadows all the other books in this list. 500 Years of Resistance is the story of the First Nations’ resistance to the European invasion which nearly wiped out the people and cultures.

While it could be an extremely depressing story, it instead turns to show you the resilience of the a people. However, while Chester Brown’s Louise Riel told the story of of the Manitoba Metis so very well, this one in only 80 pages tells 500 years of history. Each story is a glazed over too quickly to give the reader any meat.

Overall, I would definitely suggest someone read this, but warn that the reader might then want to go and find more material to further their understanding of the events.

Last night I read Joey Comeau’s Bible Camp Bloodbath, a tale of murder and death. I’ve long been a fan of Comeau’s work with Emily Horne called A Softer World, but I’ve also enjoyed two of his novels, Overqualified and One Bloody Thing After Another.

One of my favourite parts of this novel, is the blurb on the back, which reads:

Bible Camp Bloodbath is a story about a boy named Martin. Martin is going to Bible Camp, and he’s going to make a lot of new friends. He’s excited, too, but that’s probably because nobody told him what the book is called.

The book isn’t as funny as his previous horror novel, but it’s still got a few laughs in there among the blood and gore. While the previous one was more of a proper novel, Bible Camp Bloodbath reads like a ’70s low budget horror flick. It’s definitely a worthwhile read, and you’ll blow throw it in a few hours.

When my coworker lent me David Sedaris’ Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, I had no idea what to expect; I had never read any of Sedaris’ work. I knew his sister Amy from Strangers with Candy, a TV show I thought was okay. I then had numerous coworker comment on the book as it sat on my desk for a month as it waited for me to finish reading Please Kill Me. Their words for the book were always complimentary, and not necessarily complimentary for this specific book, but rather Sedaris’ work in general.

I didn’t know that this was a series of short stories when I began reading it on Friday, and didn’t even realized that the first story had ended. In all honesty, I don’t know what the appeal is to his Sedaris’ writing.

I think he’s saying, “look at my fucked up family,” but I honestly think that watching my family during a Shabbos dinner would be more humorous, and we’re not all that funny. Sure there are some chuckle moments, but no gut splitting laughter moments.

As I read these stories, all I could think was that I was reading the transcripts from episodes of The Vinyl Cafe, and while that show might make me chuckle and smile on a long drive, I don’t think it works in book form.

Some months back, the Blogger Brunchers were having a Yankee Swap, and with much cunning and skill, I was able to secure myself the copy of Legs McNeil’s Please Kill Me, which is subtitled “the uncensored oral history of punk.” A better subtitle, I cannot fathom. This book tells the story of New York’s punk rock scene with no holds barred. From the early days of the Velvet Underground, Nico, and Andy Warhol’s Factory, as told by those who were there, including the band members themselves.

The stories are of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Crude, hilarious, disgusting, and entertaining.

I think as this is far from my life, or a life I’d ever want kept me from reading it quickly. I didn’t have any kind of relationship with these “characters,” even though I like the music, I don’t necessarily have anything in common with any of the stars.

It’s taken me a long couple of months to get through the book, but it’s a worthwhile read, and an interesting set of tales. While I never endeavoured to learn which STIs Iggy Pop was afflicted with, I feel my life is now complete.

Please kill me.

Barney’s Version tells the tale of Barney Panofsky, a Montreal Jew who has married three times, and who was thought to have murdered once. The book is split into three parts “Clara,” “The Second Mrs. Panofsky,” and “Miriam.” Each named after one of his wives. An old man, Pankofsky tells his life story with a lot of memory gaps¹, he also tells it without much narrative flow, jumping from the present to the past without much thought. This doesn’t make it an easy read, but it’s an interesting read.

The reader isn’t sure about Pankofsky’s honestly, or clarity as he tells his own life story, and adding to that confusion are his son’s footnotes. While there’s drama, in the form of murder, the true heart of Pankofsky’s story is Miriam. While Barney married three times, he only fell in love once, to his final wife. That’s where the crux of the story is, in Barney’s love for Miriam, a woman he knows is completely and totally above him.

It’s long-winded, it’s not an easy read, due to the character’s meandering, and side-tracking through the story, but it all adds character to the fictional man writing his biography. It feels real. Whether it’s the casual obsession with hockey, and specifically the Montreal Canadiens, that is loosely littered across the pages, or the casual French during his Clara years, or the Yiddish thrown about all the way through, it creates a real sense of a man.

Next on the pile, new 33&1/3 book about Elliott Smith’s XO, Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk (thanks Anne, my fellow Blogger Bruncher), reading more short stories from Teri Vlassopoulos‘ Bats or Swallows².

1. His son, correcting his father, adds many footnotes. [↩]
2. That picture makes me look tall. [↩]

I’m reading zines of old. I came across some zines that were sent to me by a couple of women who played an important part of my teenage years. Nothing like that! You see, back in the ’90s I found for the first time in my life “modern music” which I enjoyed. Before that I was listening exclusively to music of the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s, a lot of which I still love and listen to, but I found a band who were contemporary that got me going. Through that band I met many great people, and I still continue to meet people because of them. Back in the the 1990s, I received two cassettes from two women.

I have had many cassettes throughout my life, and very few I’ve kept. They can be broken down into three categories:

• Interviews with musicians/artists that I’ve done.
• The tape titled “Just Shake Your Boots And Let It All Get Loose”
• finally, The tape containing If You’re Feeling Sinister¹

The first category does not apply to this story, but the other two do. While I’ve owned If You’re Feeling Sinister on compact disc for what is most definitely now over a decade, this original cassette copy, with handwritten notes, has a special place in my heart. It was through this cassette that I was introduced not just to this album, but to a band who would become one of my true, great loves, Belle & Sebastian. I still have with it a little slip of paper with a horrible joke about John Lennon and musings on the Chipmunks, and more importantly perhaps one of the most apt things ever said about Belle & Sebastian, “they’re Scots so Stuart Murdoch’s voice may seem unusual; and it is.”²

I’ve mused about my love of Belle & Sebastian many times before, and that’s not necessarily the point of this post. This post is more meant to meander, which I’m doing, slightly.

The other tape had two sides, one labeled “Summer In Winter” and the other was “I’m Sick Of Your Morals!!”

Those two are references to a Belle & Sebastian song, and a Plumtree song. This tape was basically an expansion on the initial tape, though provided by someone else, it was filled with Beck, The Apples In Stereo, The Inbreds, Elliott Smith, The Magnetic Fields, Eric’s Trip, Zumpano, Super Friendz, Stereolab, and a few others. If you look at my iTunes collection, you’ll see that nearly everything draws back to this cassette.

I think I cannot overstate the importance of these two women, and they both made ‘zines, back when ‘zines were physical. Rereading them is a strange trip. Teri’s Melt The Snow has interviews with Julie Doiron, a photocopy of The Magnetic Fields’ setlist from the Lee’s Palace show in ’99, mention of  a woman named Angela who apparently is “Woody,” and one of my favourite statements, “I was slightly disappointed by the old but new to me House of Tomorrow EP by the Magnetic Fields but I still liked the lyrics and can you believe the next record will be a triple album?”

I can’t deny some pangs of jealousy, of the woman who is slightly older than me, as I’m sure some of my younger friends get a bit jealous when I talk of shows they missed³. I really wish I could’ve gone to that ’99 Magnetic Fields show, but I took quite a long time to enjoy The Magnetic Fields.

Though, my favourite page might be from Jen’s Under The Stars #2, but I can’t tell you about it. I’m sworn to secrecy, as the page is “just for me.”

Rereading these ‘zines what I think I can most take out of them is the narrative. There’s a personal feel to them, as if the author is speaking directly to the reader. “This is what’s going on with my life…” kind of thing, and I do think it’s something this blog could use more of. Rather than “I saw this movie, it sucked.” My voice is most definitely less lyrical than Teri’s⁴ and less blunt than Jen’s⁵, so obviously I don’t want to mimic them, but I think I could learn from them⁶.

Perhaps this is all just nostalgic bullshit.

1. The other side had the Velvets, who I like, but never changed my life. [↩]
2. Yes, I appreciate the use of the semicolon. [↩]
3. The Flashing Lights! [↩]
4. was. [↩]
5. was. [↩]
6. as I did in the past. [↩]