William Gibson, 2003, Berkeley Books

William Gibson is one of the more important creators of the Cyberpunk movement, so it’s easy to take for granted that his work will be imaginative and original. What’s not so obvious, however, is that Gibson is a truly great observer, and very gifted writer.

Gibson’s sense of place is one of the more delightful aspects of his writing. I don’t know whether he’s actually been to the locations he describes, but his descriptions capture something deep about the feelings of the places. There’s an almost emotional connection. While reading Pattern Recognition, I couldn’t help but think of the awful descriptions inflicted upon us by Dan Brown, for example, that sound like a bored tour guide repeating facts and figures. In comparison, Gibson’s places feel familiar and real. While we may not know how many football-fields long the Blue Ant headquarters is, but we feel the size. We may not know the square footage of Damien’s apartment, but we’d recognize a picture of it. And we could almost paint a picture of Hobbs’ “gypsy” caravan.

Gibson is also a master of the brilliant throw-away description. Pattern Recognition is filled with simple observations that are unrelated to the story itself, but which create the fabric of the world and make it very real. The description of the tabloid that Cayce picks up in a train station stands out, but there are many, many others.

Plotwise, Pattern Recognition doesn’t break extraordinary new ground. It’s interesting, but the journey is a greater pleasure than the destination.

by Firdusi (Abdul Kasim Manur), written circa 1000, translated and abridged by James Atkinson circa 1832, read as an ebook from BlackMask.com.

Before I read this book, I was completely unaware of its existence. While this is not altogether remarkable in and of itself, it should be in this particular case. Not only is it referenced in The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (which, embarrassingly, I thought was “Arabic” rather than Persian before reading this), but the Shah Nameh is really, in many ways, the national book of the Persian people. It’s a history, a collection of legends, and, most importantly, a beautifully written collection of stories.

Atkinson, in translating, abridged the work and transformed it from verse into more concise prose, but retained the poetry for the moments he thought most important. Skilled though he must have been, reading the portions left in verse gives the impression that this translation leaves out a substantial portion of the magic of the work.

And it is a magical collection of stories. We learn of the sad fate of Jemshid, whose hubris destroys his glorious kingdom; of Zohak whose corruption by demon spirits resulted in two serpents growing from his shoulders; and of exploits the mighty Rustem, who singlehandedly conquers the demon country of Mazinderan.

As a history, we learn of the endless warfare between the neighboring kingdoms, between brothers, between fathers and sons. We are witness to many, many battles, to the deaths of thousands, to the destruction of cities, dynasties, farms, and families. We read of the spread of Zoroastrianism (although, strangely, not of Islam, except in Firdusi’s invocation at the end). We get a history of Alexander, who we are told is actually descended from the Persian royal house.

Thomas Malory, 1470, edition published by William Caxton, reprinted as an eBook from BlackMask.com

Top ten archaic words from Mort d’ Arthur that deserve to be brought back into the common lexicon:

1. dight: orderly, proper, or adorned. “And at the last he entered into a chamber that was marvellously and well dight and richly…”
2. maugre: in spite of, notwithstanding. “… yet had I liefer die in this prison with worship, than to have one of you to my paramour maugre my head.”
3. hight: to call or name. “It was a king that hight Meliodas, and he was lord and king of the country of Liones…”
4. liefer: prefer, rather. “…for there is no knight that I saw this seven years that I had liefer ado withal than with him.”
5. wood: mad, insane, raving. “Then was the king wood wroth that he had no knights to answer him.”
6. yede: past tense of to go. “Then he yede and armed him and horsed him in the best manner.”
7. siker: certain, secure. “So was there sikerness made on both parties that no treason should be wrought on neither party; …”
8. paynim: Pagan, non-Christian, especially Saracen or Muslim. “Then the damosel sent unto Corsabrin, and bade him go unto Sir Palomides that was a paynim as well as he…”
9. sithen: since. “Now tell me your name, sith ye be a lover, or else I shall do battle with you.”
10. chiertee: tenderness, affection, cheerfulness. “Howbeit it hath liked her good grace to have me in chiertee, and to cherish me more than any other knight…”

Peter Biskind, Simon & Schuster, 1998

This is really only the second book I’ve read on Hollywood, the first being David Niven’s Bring On the Empty Horses. The books are about very different eras, and they are, not surprisingly, very different books. Empty Horses is a raconteur’s reminiscences, a participant’s tales retold with a certain charm and tact, even when dealing with scandal and excess. Easy Riders is a much denser history, more concerned with the facts, and is written with a distinct thesis. There’s another obvious difference, with Niven focusing on the stars and Biskind focusing on the Directors. But there’s deeper stylistic differences as well. Niven’s recountings each have their own arc, segueing into one another, perhaps, but mostly episodic. Biskind’s retelling is much less linear, telling chronologically parallel stories.

I can’t remember when I have read anything that throws such a bewildering quantity of names and facts per page as Easy Riders does. Lacking Biskind’s encyclopedic understanding of the names and interrelations of the people involved, coupled with his tendency to refer to a person by first name, then last name, then nickname, then role (sometimes all in a single paragraph) I was occasionally left confused.

Yet even with this confusion, I thought the book did a remarkable job of telling the tale of the rise and fall of a generation of filmmakers, gave insight into their movies, and even helped explain the Hollywood of today. It also sketches out the attributes required to become a successful director or producer in Hollywood.

Like Empty Horses, Easy Riders left me with a sense of the personalities behind the movies, but, more importantly, gives some texture to the zeitgeist from which the movies sprang.

anonymous, circa. 1100, translated by Whitley Stokes, read as an e-book from BlackMask.com.

This is a curious old Irish tale, which seems to fall somewhere between standard historical epics and fairy tales. You can still hear quite a little of the oral tradition in its structure, but it also has some surprises. The beginning is very much fairy tale, about how Conaire becomes king, and how he learns of his personal taboos. This portion is mystical and fantastical. It is followed immediately by the tale of how the good king brings peace and prosperity and then, in one grand binge, violates all his taboos. The tale then takes a short detour, setting up the Reavers (the agents of destruction), and giving us their history and descriptions, with each being more terrifying and strange than the previous. After this short detour, we take a very long detour, where these agents of destruction have resolved to destroy Da Derga’s hostel (where the king is spending the night). They review and catalog each individual within the hostel, sparing no details, and their seer predicts how many of the reavers will be slain by each. This is by far the longest section of the tale, and seemed to have been a great opportunity for retellers to toss in their own creative additions. The actual destruction is something of an anticlimax.