Reviews, Aegis

"Aegis" got another review. I don't think this quite gets the story, but at least the reviewer appeared to ultimately like the tale...

D.T. Neal's story 'Aegis' starts off interestingly enough as a young artist meets a legendary sculptor in the hope of learning something from her. Just as I was wondering where the story was going there was a sudden shift. First, briefly, a scene of unnecessary titillation that I thought was going to go downhill into seediness. This was averted by another change from the mundane to the fantastical that initially left me dissatisfied. D.T Neal skilfully ties the whole story up at the end, though, sculpting a story that is ultimately both intriguing and pleasing.

This one is far cattier, and seems to miss the point of the story almost entirely...

Aegis by D.T. Neal

Julian Stein, a young artist, falls in love with the work of famous sculptress Renee Euryale. Unfortunately, any reader with a classical education will at once understand what her secret is and how this story will likely end. Unfortunately for the protagonist, his education was lacking in these details.

It is too bad, as this story offers some insights into the nature of art and creation, but either the readers are supposed to be screaming at the characters as if they were watching a B horror movie—"No! Don't go into the mansion!"—or they are supposed to be shocked at the final revelation, which just falls flat. The editorial blurb declares that it was the 2nd place winner of the 2008 Aeon award, which makes me wonder if the judges had the benefit of a classical education. O tempore!

It was, of course, intended for Euryale to be exactly who she was. I mean, good lord, the title alone should be a nice tipoff for anybody paying attention, which is, in itself, a key point of the story. I liked the idea of Euryale not having to truly hide who she was because the nature of the world today allows for it, where everybody looks and nobody sees what's right in front of them. What is a Gorgon in this world except a relic to an almost charmingly simple past? Had she named herself Renee Smith, would it have made any difference whatsoever? If anything, there would have been diminishment in doing that. I liked keeping her surname "Euryale" precisely because it pointed to her being exactly who (and what) she was, and people not even getting who she was. I think she meant to write "O tempora!" but why quibble, right?

Who's Who?

I cringed when I saw the 50% Who play the Superbowl halftime show. They should have packed it in over 30 years ago, rather than grinding on. If any band is forcefully diminished by the loss of its members, it's The Who. Few bands fused into a more powerful gestalt, where each member added something critical to their alchemy. I've written about it at length in a few places over the years, and the Superbowl performance only cements that perception. And I love The Who; the problem is that Daltrey and Townshend can't really pretend to be The Who by themselves. Not possible. And they know that, in truth. They know. I saw the 75% Who play in '89, and it was good enough, but it still wasn't The Who.

THIS was The Who...



One irony I did take from the Superbowl performance, however: no band was more English than The Who. They literally wore their Englishness on their shirtsleeves. There was even a nod to that in the setup last night, with the drummer with his RAF "target" cymbals and his cockeyed Union Jack shirt, and the LED stage lights playing at that a little. But it's an odd feature for such an American spectacle as the Superbowl, to have a band as quintessentially English as The Who play the halftime show. I don't know what, if anything, it means. Maybe they were willing to play for cheap or something. Not sure. But it was odd.

Comfortable Strangeness

I'm working on a new book, a SF novel that I've had in my head for about a year. I suppose "SF" is not quite right -- it probably is more Slipstream than SF, although we'll see. Maybe Literary SF, if not Slipstream. It's unlike anything I've written before, and I'm enjoying the ride. The world is "comfortably strange" -- very familiar and yet laced with unfamiliar and unsettling things I throw out like little bon-bons for the reader.

I started it yesterday, got 2500 words done, about five pages, and it is going just fine. I can't wait to dive into it again, although likely not until tomorrow, owing to scheduling difficulties at home. We'll see. Hopefully I'll get it done this winter and have it ready for revision by spring.

Meantime, the ABNA is closed. Fingers crossed on my submission. I should find out if it made first cut by the end of this month. We'll see.

The CTA service reductions have Chicagoans pissy, crowded on the buses and trains. A lot of pissed-off people, going nowhere fast! Hopefully the city will sort out its transit funding woes, and things'll return to normal.