So here she was, dressed head-to-toe in a silver gown with long, silver-blonde hair, obviously starring in a magical story of some sort. Well, I was more than right, as she was playing a LITERAL star, in a quirky fantasy based on the novel Stardust by Neil Gaiman. Check out the movie if you haven’t, you’ll be treated to Robert De Niro in a corset and Michelle Pfieffer with one sagging breast.

I later picked up my first Neil novel of the same title and enjoyed it very much. Technically, I listened to it, and he is an excellent reader of his works, as well. I went on to sample a few more of his works for children, but didn’t get into much of his adult fiction.

Until this past week.

I needed more audio for my trip to Yellowstone, and on the library shelf was Anansi Boys. I was hoping for the flashier, much-talked-about American Gods, but I grabbed Anansi Boys anyway.

I was disappointed when I put in the first CD and realized Neil was not reading this audiobook, but in time I realized that it was perfect having it read by Lenny Henry. His voicing of the Carribean accents was wonderful.

But on the story itself — I get the feeling that this book is not people’s favorite Gaiman story. It’s strange, it’s quirky, it deals with the gods of African tales and ghosts and sweet old-lady witches. I get the feeling there’s been some confusion about where to shelve this book, though it is clearly adult fiction with an adult main character, Fat Charlie. Fat Charlie is leading a kind of ho-hum life, but he loves and wants to marry a sweet girl who insists on him reconnecting with his father for the upcoming wedding. He soon finds out that his father has died, and when he goes to Florida for the funeral he finds out that the father he was always so embarrassed by was actually the trickster god Anansi — the spider.

From there, a major can of spiders is opened when Fat Charlie invites the “brother”** he never knew he had to come visit him. Interspersed in the narrative is the occasional story about Anansi the spider and the other gods, and I have to say, the first one left me and my family roaring… gales of laughter, I tell you. It was then we knew this was a specially-woven fabric of story. It’s not just about one man — though you do cheer for this poor guy by the end — it’s about a bunch of ordinary people experiencing extraordinary things. It ties up neater than a professional gift-wrap at the end, too. I loved it.***

* Note that I don’t  usually link you to some boring summary of media I reference in my reviews… I usually hand-pick a youtube clip that I feel represents it… and so it is, here. So follow them, often! (they open in new windows)

** You’ll see why I quoted “brother” when you read (or hear) the book.

*** I’d say this is a 14 and up read for language and some sexual inferences. Didn’t bother my kids, though.

First, The Karate Kid. I enjoyed the first forty minutes of this movie, but it’s pace was so slow — not slow, exactly, but definitely geared for older teen/ adult audiences so that my boys (under 10yo) were not wholely engaged. Henceforth, they asked me if we could skip over to Toy Story 3 instead — which we did, leaving my husband and daughter to finish out Karate Kid. All reports are that it was good, but didn’t tread too much new ground once you get over the obvious improvement that it was set in China and led by very good actor Jaden Smith. I think I would have enjoyed it, but I don’t for one second regret heading over to Toy Story 3…. though I was reluctant at the time.

See, I am a huge fan of Toy Story. I think it is a master class of storytelling. It constantly dug for the truths about each of those toys, and didn’t treat them as mere children’s playthings (in spite of Woody’s assertion… or perhaps he was paying a high complement). Fun fact: did you know that Joss Wheden was a credited screenwriter on the first Toy Story movie? I enjoyed Toy Story 2, too. Maybe slightly less. But I didn’t know where they could go from there. I feared Toy Story 3 would be a rehash of the plot of either 1 or 2. I didn’t think they’d let Andy GROW UP, for crying out loud.

When the boys and I sat down in the nearly full theater, and the first scene ended with Andy heading off to college, I felt sad — even hopeless! — for both the toys’ prospects and for mine as a moviewatcher. Alas, I couldn’t have been more wrong. But lets get back to that later, since I like to end on a high note.

A week later, I saw Despicable Me with my sister’s family. They had watched it the previous night and wanted to go again. That’s how much they liked it. Well, sorry sista, but I don’t think I cracked a smile once. I didn’t get it at all. In thinking about it, I’ve decided that I couldn’t like a movie about a villian who has paper-thin motivations for being bad. He actually likes tormenting a child by making a balloon animal, giving it to the child, and then piercing said animal with a pin? Really? I couldn’t get on that train. Most villains have a reason for acting evil. They actually think they are heroic. It just strains credulity for someone to enjoy meanness… and if he truly enjoys meanness, I don’t want to watch a movie about him. Plus, I kept wishing I was over watching The Last Airbender, which I had originally thought was not playing at my theater.

Speaking of which, the NEXT night I was fishing for doubt trout… no, that’s another story. I took my daughter to see The Last Airbender, the movie I had been on tenterhooks waiting for. I heard it wasn’t very good, but I had to check it out, because we’re huge fans of the Nickelodeon animated series. What can I say about it? I’m at a loss. I want you all to go see it so that they make the next two movies (and, dare I hope, tread some new ground in a fourth??) but I can’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed.

First, I didn’t realize until halfway through that they were only attempting to portray the first season of Airbender, so that was a letdown. It makes no sense to make a movie out of one season, really. Television seasons are set to end on cliffhangers, so that you’ll tune in after the long summer hiatus to see what happens. A movie, even a trilogy, needs more tie-up than that. The second movie of a trilogy can get away with more unfinished plot lines, but the first? Think Pirates of the Carribean, or Star Wars: A New Hope or The Bourne Identity. The first in a trilogy must be a good standalone.

Second, they removed absolutely all of the humor. Whaa? That’s like taking Harry Potter and removing the magic. Airbender is awesomely funny. The kids are kids, not little adults. They like the funny. They are the funny. It is integral to their goodness.

So, you take out a satisfying ending, tread ground the series did with more depth, and do it with nary a smile. What then are we left with? Live actors who try in vain to simulate animated expressions and postures, and computer graphic effects that are dwarfed by bigger-budget movies. I’m getting despressed. Airbender deserved better. If you haven’t, NO MATTER what your age, go put the entire TV series of Airbender in your Netflix queue. Airbender has the best mythology of any epic show since Star Wars.

Don’t believe me? Check out this fan-made movie trailer:

But back to Toy Story 3. If you pick one summer family movie to see, this is it. I’m telling you. Grab a nephew if you’re embarrassed to see it without a kid… or better yet, grab me. I’m looking for any excuse to see it again. No matter your age, you’ll laugh, you’ll even cry, you’ll be wowed and you’ll care about the outcome. And, you haven’t lived until you see what Mr. Potato Head turns into in this movie. Barbie and Ken, oh my! And Buzz, oh, Buzz. Go. See it. And comment when you get back, dahling, I’ve enjoyed our chat.

It’s called Charmed Life, by Diana Wynne Jones, and it is the first book in a series called The Chronicles of Chrestomanci. There are eight books set in the Chrestomanci universe, though not focused on the same characters (and written over the course of 29 years!).

Charmed Life starts slowly, in a “dear reader” fashion — a way that would not fly in today’s grab-em-by-the-throat publishing environment, and it does a fair bit of distracting head-jumping*. Those are the cons. But let me tell you something — if you loved Harry Potter, you’ll enjoy Charmed Life (and, really, all other Diana Wynne Jones books, but let’s stay focused).

In the Chrestomanci world, those who work magic are of different classes, rated by power. Warlocks, Witches, Necromancers, Mediums are every day people, living alongside those with no magic. The more powerful Magicians and Enchanters are more rare, and a person who has no selves in the other, parallel worlds is the most powerful Enchanter of all.

In Charmed Life, a very talented young witch named Gwendolyn and her magic-less brother nicknamed Cat are sent to live with a powerful man called Chrestomanci. Hijinks ensue… I won’t spoil them for you!

But alongside the fantasical, as in the Harry Potter stories, the quirky humanity of the characters and the relationships between them seem real and human. Cat and his sister have a rocky relationship, but he loves her nonetheless. This loyalty endears him to the reader, even as you grow to hate the selfish, power-hungry sister. What’s amazing to me is how it is so clear to the reader that Cat’s sister is villianous while it mostly escapes Cat’s notice. Sure, he’s uncomfortable with her behavior, often, but he never grows angry or resentful of her.

Cat doesn’t change that much in this story, which is unusual for a main character, but what’s interesting is that you, the reader, change over the course of the book. Cat is someone you find yourself caring about. He’s young and imperfect, and joins in a good many wrong deeds (that he often has reservations about but is to weak to stand against). You begin to want to protect him, to help him, to somehow get him out of his mounting troubles, especially since it is clear he isn’t going to have a flash of brilliance or a wave of courage to help.

And in the end, when certain realities about his sister are revealed, you want to cry with him, and you cheer him when he finally is angry and stands up for himself.

It’s a gentle story, in the emotions. It’s a fantastical story, in the actions. And who doesn’t love a good battle of witches (or any crazy creature, for that matter!)

I give it four out of five nods!

* Head-jumping is when the thoughts of one character are explained right on the heels of the thoughts of another. This is a faux pas by today’s standards, though I daresay only writers really notice. What a grumpy bunch we are.

Who doesn’t love mazes? Raise your hand?

That’s right. Everyone loves a maze (and universals are always true! Unicursals??) But my favorite maze of all time is a little game that we played on my family’s Tandy computer. That poor Tandy — a KEYBOARD only computer (no mouse, no joystick, no controller of any kind) — had to be unplugged from the TV in order to plug in and play the Atari console. As a result, the more popular Atari got the lions share of the play time.

It’s hard to compete with Pitfall.

But there was one game I would bother changing over for. If I was in a dangerous sort of mood.

Dungeons of Daggorath.

Great name, huh? I re-purposed it (with changed spelling) for a MindsBase prog, actually. Dungeons of Daggorath was one of the first first-person, three-dimensional games. What? you say. Read that again. Since so many modern consoles games are just that (think Halo.)

DoD, as you can see from the screenshot above, had a simple line-drawn design. You simply typed in commands to move around the dungeon, looking for dark creatures to destroy. Three wonderful things about this game:

1. You had one life. Just one. And many creatures would kill you with just ONE hit… so what moves you made mattered. A lot.

2. You had to type on this spongy, sticky keyboard (was it sticky by design or was that my orange juice spills?) and boy, you were bummed if you messed up (see #1.)

3. You had this little heart in the middle of the screen and it made this little thump thump sound which sped up if you walked faster and when you were attacking a creature. If you fainted or died, it raced out of control — thththththththththththhhhhhhddddd!

And one more great thing. It was played in real time. Yes. You had a pine torch to start with, which lasted fifteen minutes. If you didn’t have a replacement torch by then, it dimmed, then darkened — and you were toast. No annoying clocks on the screen… just real consequences for not moving along, buster. Now all those poor people in Rivenshire village will be destroyed by the Evil Wizard.

But the greatest thing about it? They made a PC port of it, which you can download (free)! Enjoy! Oh, and here’s the manual.

I miss Ultima III, the one that came on 5 1/4″ floppies. The one where you were just a tiny figure moving about the landscape, talking in the towns and fighting in the woods. I loved saying “join me” to people and delighted when they said they would join my motley crew. I liked it better than Ultima IV because you could travel all night without the darkness swallowing you. I never knew what was lurking in that darkness.

Way back, I remember being frightened of the dark greenish pages and pale green pants with nobody inside them. My imagination created a horror movie-worthy villain out of those pants. I was most alarmed when they began to cry. It only made them more horrible when they shook like that.

I even miss Hunt the Wumpus, a text-only game played on the Wang computer that sat on our dryer in the laundry room. I imagined the Wumpus — big, hairy, many-legged, dripping with yuck, lurking in the semi-darkness of one of the rooms as I played Russian roulette with the doors.

What I’m saying is, I miss imagination, even in its darkest form. But also in its most wondrous! Now, everything is visual, three-dimensional, surround-sound, neon-sign. We’ve lost the subtle shades of emotion that imagination creates.

So, I decided to make my own world for my imagination to play in. It is made up of nothing but the twenty-six western letters and ten numbers. Eventually there may be a few line drawings and a glossy cover illustration, but it’s mainly just a world in my mind.

I used to have more vivid dreams. Perhaps I’m just too tired now to have many of them. Or too grown-up. I actually miss the terror that jerked me from the dream where I’m running from “bad guys” down my dark neighborhood streets. I’m running in slow-motion, of course, screaming at my legs to MOVE, C’MON MOVE!

So I knew that it would be endlessly fun to have my imaginary playground to be a dream. A shared dream.