Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

What a fun and bloody concept for a book! I haven’t read many of the literary smashups that have come directly in response to Seth Grahme-Smith’s first novel, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, but I couldn’t pass this second attempt of his up. And I have to say, I was much more enticed by the movie poster than the book’s cover.

Overall, the book is a fun ride through Lincoln’s life with this new focus on his secret passion of killing every vampire in America. I wasn’t quite sure about the introduction at first, especially the conceit that the author himself had been approached with writing the book by a vampire who was an associate of Lincoln’s, that the author had lost everything in pursuit of completing the manuscript, but this allows for the approach of including entries from Lincoln’s own secret vampire hunting diaries, which does add to the overall not-so-serious tone of this piece. These overused gimmicks are done with the understanding of how ridiculous this tale is, so it only adds to the faked authenticity of the smashup. The silly pictures help too. I couldn’t keep from laughing at some of the doctored photographs.

But even though the book is fun, I was impressed by the amount of research undertaken. This is a deeply complex venture into silliness, the best reason to expend such energy in the first place. Once the story of Lincoln begins, it is very easy to hold your disbelief at bay as he battles to solve America’s great problem of vampires and their hand in slavery.

My only complaint is that I never quite believed Lincoln was one of the most accomplished vampire hunters. The type of vampire in the book is crafted extremely well, as is their involvement in his personal tragedies, which spurs him to hunt them to begin with. But even after training with a vampire sympathetic to his cause, Lincoln is never a true match for any vampire he encounters, even the weakest ones. I like that these creatures are more like the old tales, in which they can’t be killed without being caught off guard, but I can’t figure out why Lincoln tries to engage them in open combat at night every time he hunts them. It seems like some Van Helsing-style raids during the day would have been a better approach.

Other than that, the book plays out well and is definitely worth a read. I haven’t had a chance to see the movie yet, but I’m hoping that if it’s just as fun, it might also present the fights in a more favorable way without losing any human element of the story, which oddly enough, is the true strength of this novel. I know when I finished the book, I wanted to research the civil war, read a biography on Lincoln, and watch Ken Burns’ documentary. That, I think, is a crucial element to fiction like this and the reason that Seth Grahame-Smith will continue to be at the head of the genre. As silly as the smashup may be, it can pay great homage to the totally serious and inspire us to revisit important aspects of ourselves, both as individuals and as a country.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Fiction

The Night Circus

 

The cover of The Night Circus sold me immediately, as do many cleverly designed covers, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to read another book about a circus. Most of them seem to focus on the nineteenth or early twentieth century, so the period theme had me doubly wary. But I kept looking back at the pinstriped circus held aloft by a tattooed paper arm, and I decided to give the book a chance. Still, I worried that the black and white design and the emphasis on night meant that this could be a circus of glittery vampires and codependant teenagers, but the flourishes around the title and the shockingly pink tent flags had me thinking that the book might be girly in a cool way. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern turned out to be none of those things. This novel is as carefully constructed as its origami cover and is every bit as delicate.

The Night Circus is a magical story in several senses. The very publishing of it is one of the fairy tales so many aspiring writers dream of. This is Erin Morgenstern’s debut novel, it has received critical acclaim, and it has been optioned for a movie. Morgenstern’s success is deserved on all counts. The story is visually striking, and the intricacies of overlapping plots provides a sense of depth not found in other recent circus tales. And oddly enough, the book telegraphs all of its moves through a series of excerpts from a regular column written by one of the characters, Friederick Thiessen.

“The whole of Le Cirque de Reves is formed by a series of circles. Perhaps it is a tribute to the origin of the word ‘circus,’ deriving from the Greek kirkos meaning circle, or ring. . . . Rather than a single tent with rings enclosed within, this circus contains clusters of tents like pyramids, some large and others quite small. They are set within circular paths, set within a circular fence. Looping and continuous.”

The interweaving character arcs serve up plenty of surprising developments, but the workings and stylings of magic are what drive the story. The two main characters are trained magicians bound to each other in a contest to the death, and the interactions between them begin to play a role in the shape and structure of the circus itself.

As if that weren’t enough, both of them are raised by sadistic men who have been competing with each other for a very long time. Celia, the girl illusionist doesn’t receive an education from a kind, Dumbledore-type mentor or even attend school. Her education involves outright violence from her father. He breaks her hands and slashes her skin open just so she can learn to use her mental powers to put herself back together again.

And while the boy doesn’t suffer abuse of that sort, he is subjected to manipulation and neglect that rivals the girl’s physical punishment. Among the infrequent visits and moments of actual instruction, the boy’s mentor gets to provide a number of cryptic remarks similar to the following: “‘Names are not of nearly as much import as people like to suppose,’ the man in the grey suit says. . . . ‘If you find yourself in need of a name at any point, you may choose one for yourself.’” The boy chooses Marco, and like his name, his magic is one of his own making, of glyphs, runes, and charms.

The psychological backgrounds would make any romance between Celia and Marco explosive, but the magics shared between them make their story into something far more volatile. The surrounding characters and the circus itself are pulled along, but as the novel develops it’s nice to see that their relationship (or fight to the death) is yet another part of a larger tale.

My only hesitation with the book is that the chapters seem a little short at times. They are carefully crafted vignettes, but I found myself wanting more at several points when the focus shifts. But I imagine that others might find this arrangement very pleasing. The Night Circus is written very well, and any lover of magic should by a ticket for admission. As the book says, the gates open at dusk.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Fiction

The Hunger Games Movie

When I initially read The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, I had my doubts that the violence promised in the early pages would be delivered in the ways described. When I found out there would be a movie dealing with the same theme, I became even more skeptical. Collins’ book brought something dark and new to a market flooded with predestined heroes dispatching foes with various forms of magic, where the violence occurs just off screen or through more sanitary means that do not involve blood. From the first sprays and splatters at the mouth of the cornucopia on the arena floor, I knew this was a serious writer who was quite capable of exploring the complex issues of children and violence and the media’s role in it.

The questions raised within the novel move far beyond the blood sport that serves as the story’s base. It’s easy to question the proliferation of violence in the media; it’s another thing entirely to question the viewer’s role in it. The opinions held toward the games among the deeply segregated districts serves as a litmus for where you might find yourself on this spectrum. Though our natural inclination toward the entire ordeal might be outright disgust, as held unwaveringly by our hero from District 12, we might find ourselves mixing in with the brightly colored crowd from the Capitol at times, especially when the aspect of romance becomes involved.

The pageantry leading up to the games seems so odd on its own because of the knowledge that these children will be dead soon, but when it becomes clear that Katniss must appeal to this crowd through feigned romance with Peeta in order to survive, the most interesting aspect of the book begins. How does melodramatic romance connect to extreme violence, and what does this say about our own celebration of it? Does one necessarily lead to the other? Even Katniss becomes confused in the midst of it. She reaches a point during the games where she can’t determine whether her actions toward Peeta are real or fake. She doesn’t know if she’s just going through the motions of what’s expected, or if beginning those motions has led her to a genuine love.

These ambiguities serve as the most stimulating parts of the book. Unfortunately, the film doesn’t have the luxury to delve into these more delicate matters. While I didn’t see it as a failure on the film’s part, I did miss it. The driving force of tension in the book is the sheer uncertainty of self, and that’s easier to do when Katniss serves as the narrator. Because the movie doesn’t take that perspective, various aspects of the story must appear in clearer forms. And honestly, I don’t think the movie would have worked with constant narration from Katniss. Instead, the film relies on dialogue to show how stubborn Katniss can be, and it uses Hamich much more than the book does to explain what Katniss is failing to understand.

The first book in particular paints Hamich as a hopeless drunkard, but this is partly because we’re stuck in Katniss’ mind. Since the film’s perspective of Hamich is broader, we see much more clearly what Katniss only starts to realize in the second book: Hamich is a champion of the games for a reason, and he knows how to throw his weight around both in and out of the arena. In the movie, we see him making deals and campaigning for sponsors in order to make sure Katniss receives the items necessary for her survival. In the book, we are stuck with the occasional appearance of the silver parachutes and Katniss’ speculation as to why Hamich had bothered to send them to her at some times and not others.

In the movie, the romance is clearly a ruse from the beginning, and even though there is an attempt to blur the line between how Katniss and Peeta act and how they feel, it comes off as caring for a friend in a time of desperation. The triangle between Katniss, Peeta, and Gale is clearly established, but I’m not sure how that will play out onscreen in the next movie.

In order to earn a PG-13 rating so that the core audience could even attend the showing, the movie cut away from the goriest parts of the games, but it managed to capture the Lord of the Flies feeling of outright animosity held by the career players of the games when the alliances are formed. These weren’t the only horrors that went missing. The muttations eyes weren’t even mentioned, and this is one detail that truly speaks to the sickness of the game makers. I don’t know why it wasn’t in the movie, but it wouldn’t have taken much. The characters are chased by several large dogs, their running style reminiscent of the demon hounds from Ghostbusters, but there’s no closeup on the eyes, and neither Katniss nor Peeta gets a line of astonishment to express their shock at the lengths of perverseness to which the Capitol is willing to go. It’s also not clear that the shiny, black shell they climb onto is a cornucopia and not some hollowed-out spaceship or the shell of a robotic scorpion. That may have been a detail more easily departed from.

The acting was done well, with the roles of Hamich and Caesar Flickerman standing out. Stanley Tuchi plays Flickerman and manages to make him into a fairly likeable creep. He comes off as a shallow person at the center of the spectacle of the games, but like many in the Capitol, he doesn’t seem to know any better. The blue ponytail and extreme fake teeth definitely help. Woody Harrelson adds much needed depth to Hamich, but again, part of this is probably due to being free of Katniss’ narrow vision of a very complex character. He presents Hamich as a rough but extremely humane character, whose drinking seems understood if not quite justified.

The younger members of the cast do well, but I couldn’t help wondering if Jennifer Lawerence had been typecast. Moments from her performance in Winter’s Bone resonated strongly here, especially in the beginning. The challenges provided by the games rescue her from that, but I’m not sure that she manages to show that Katniss is still a girl in many ways. It’s difficult to see what maturity she lacks in the confusion of performing on a national stage, something that’s much easier to make clear through Katniss narrating the book. We also don’t get any indication that her mother is an accomplished healer, the closest thing the entire district has to a doctor.

Overall, the adaptation was successful in many ways and clearly communicated the themes of the book. The movie wasn’t able to go into nearly as much detail, but it was enjoyable, and it managed to capture the most desirable visual moments from the book, Katniss’ fiery outfits, the excessive ornamentation in the Capitol, and most importantly, the arena itself. My only complaint is that the contrast of the Capitol with District 12 was almost too much, and some moments looked very much like you could see the green screen if you squinted hard enough. The costumes and dazzlingly facial hair almost make up for it though. The movie is definitely worth seeing if you enjoy the books.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Books to Film