July Books Read

Another indoor month, due to heat and humidity here this time of year, means lots of time for reading.  Having run out of Silverberg SF books, I am now reading his trashy pulp novels, which actually are pretty gritty and not half bad.  I am giving Michael Moorcock a rest for a few months, and returning to James Blish.  Blish wrote several dozen critical essays about the stories in SF pulp magazines in the 50s and early 60s, under a fake name.  I have a few of those books in hand.  There were among the rarest of books by Blish, and unavailable for decades.  However, thanks once again to the magic of Kindle publishing, I now have books I had given up hope of ever finding in stores.

 

Besides my five Avon/Equinox books, I plunged ahead with Delphi classics, beginning with stories by Wilkie Collins and Joseph Conrad, and also read some from beyond that incomparable series.

 

Gang Girl is from 1959 and is penned under the name Don Elliot (Silverberg). She's seventeen and has a body that can turn young males into her own personal playthings.  They will even kill for her.  Lora Menotti is one bad girl, striving to get to the top of the gang when her family moves into new digs in a different part of New York.  Silverberg manages to get inside this kinky girl's head, and we see what makes Lora tick.  Mostly it's sex, violence, drugs, and booze.  The book has a lot of each of those things.  Like most bad people in 1959 movies and books, she does get her comeuppance in the final chapter--she has made too many enemies not to escape gang justice.  The story is gritty and probably not too far fetched for its time.  I would not even wish to contemplate what contemporary gang life is like. 

 

The first half of A Sword For Kregen, the 1979 novel by Kenneth Bulmer that continues the adventures of Dray Prescott, is standard fare for the series, meaning that it is fun to read and advances the overarching plot.  Dray has been given a warning by the gods that his services as a warrior will soon be needed again.  He manages to tie up business at home before he is yanked away again to a distant corner of Kregen.  The second half of the book is Bulmer's homage to Edgar Rice Burroughs' novel The Chessmen of Mars.  Burroughs' Martians love to play chess, and that book in the author's Martian series features a game of human chess where the pieces must fight to the death when moved to an occupied square.  On Kregen the board game of war is called Jikaida, and is played everywhere, including at the beginning of this novel, as a  game is taking place between Dray and his wife (she wins, with a ruthless strategy).  And so Dray later becomes a piece in the game, and must fight. Besides redoing Burroughs (Bulmer also gives instructions on how to play his game at the end of the novel, as did Burroughs), a few tropes pop up in this story.  For one, the climax is yet again two males having a swordfight to the death.  How original.  For another, Dray is the underdog against a much superior swordsman.  So of course Dray loses until the very few final seconds on the match, when his opponent finally makes a mistake.  Dray, with his very last strength, just somehow manages to kill him.  Yawn.  Despite this, the book is again very well thought out and executed.  The series continues, with 15 more novels in store.  So far, so good.  I can't believe I have last through 20 books.

 

From 1956 comes The Curse of Quantrill, a Civil War era historical western, starring that scourge of the North William Quantrill.  Quantrill was a Southern Captain in the Rebel army.  This story takes place near the end of the Civil War, and near the end of Quantrill's short life.  It is a completely fictional account of the later years, with no mention of the James brothers being part of Quantrill's Raiders.  There are many nearly forgotten stories of the Civil War.  The criminal and violent things that Quantrill and his men did, and those of the rival Jayhawkers, are quite unspeakable, yet they are a part of almost any war.  The same with a victorious Union army as they marched through the South, burning, robbing, raping, and causing economic disaster for the losing side.  Even after the war a lot of very nasty things went on that are best never forgotten, but always are.  Tubb gives a creditable account of life near the end of the Civil War, and pulls no punches.  A good read, and it made me research the facts about Quantrill. 

 

The Bend At The End of the Road is another good collection of short essays by Malzberg concerning SF writing in the 50s.  Lamenting the demise of SF and trying to reason why might drive a person crazy.  Tolkien, Star Wars, and Star Trek seem to be the main cause, as well as editors who only accepted certain types of SF for publication.  The great comeback in the 60s was due to the British, mostly Moorcock's New Worlds publications, and within that, thanks mostly to Ballard.  This essay collection, published in 2018, contains essays written between 2007-17.  It apparently did not help that more than one Hugo was given out to works that were not SF at all.  

Malzberg is one of the most creative and funniest writers of SF I have come across in the Avon Rediscovery Series.  After reading even a few of his works, it can be seen why he did not become more famous as a writer--his stuff does not fit the category of SF that editors had been hammering into young minds since day one.  However, it is a shame that he did not even attempt to talk about some modern SF writers.  Given the dates of the essays, he does not discuss a single contemporary writer.  Not good, Mr. Malzberg.

Still, these essays are essential reading for people interested in 50s SF, and in discovering why SF writing disappeared (think dragons and elves).  You'll laugh, you'll cry, but you will continue to read the next essay, until there are no more.  Highly recommended for readers of this blog.

 

James Blish wrote critical essays about SF in the 1950s and 1960s, ostensibly to help budding writings in the genre.  He wrote under the name of Atheling, and his cover was not guessed for many years, when he finally came out.  He wrote about the magazine stories from the time, which was virtually the only place to publish SF stories.  The essays contained in The Issue At Hand are full of insight, and make a very good handbook for young writers and older editors.  Having recently read many essays by Barry Malzberg on the subject, Blish excels at getting to his point and proving it, something that Malzberg's essays often lack.  He was a very erudite writer, and not above criticizing his own works in his essays.  His emphasis on stories of humanity often fell on deaf ears for those writers engaged in space opera, but the essays invariably helped many writers, even the pros.  An invaluable gem of a book, unavailable for many years until it appeared on Kindle.  Praise Kindle!

On to the Delphi Classics!  Wilkie Collins wrote a short novel in 1856 called A Rogue's Life.  He made some revisions in 1879 for its first book publication (it had been serialized in a magazine).  He wanted to expand it, but didn't have the time.  A good thing, as it's perfect as it stands.  The son of Dr. Francis Softly tries hard to make a go of things, to uphold his family's high position (through his mother).  He tries learning medicine, but finds it not to his taste.  Next come several very funny episodes where he tries caricature, goes bankrupt and is sent to jail; next comes portrait painting, also a complete flop.  A friend gets him into painting old masters to sell as original works.  A few times he runs into a beautiful young woman who makes his heart flutter.  When the old masters racket is exposed, he flounders for a time.  The young Softly is a terrific character for a novel, and I was very surprised to see that nothing has been done for TV or film with this work.  It is a fun read, just long enough, with one of the most original endings I have ever come across.  A rogue indeed!  If you are a reader who has been put off by Collins' very (very) long novels, this would be a great place to dip into his writing.  Highly recommended!

Next came a strange tale by Joseph Conrad, co-written with Ford Maddox Ford.  The Inheritors is from 1901.  Ford was a neighbour at the time, helping Conrad write in English.  I didn't care much for the novel.  Without the sea it doesn't seem like Conrad, yet.  The book is well written, yet lacks action and emotion.  It is a political thriller that takes place in London, the countryside, and Paris.  The downfall of the old regime is in the hands of a heartless woman, who claims to be from the 4th dimension.  Forgetting that, it is interesting to speculate on how many humans there are that we might know who don't seem quite human.  Conrad digs up a few here, and shines a light upon them.  The main protagonist, a journalist, is used by the lady to help achieve her ends.  He is a pawn on her chessboard, who thinks that he has free will.  He falls in love with her, and needless to say it is unrequited.  At the very end, however, when the cataclysm has stopped its rumbling, she does confess a small bit of feeling for him.  The book ends with the man a lost soul, with nothing to do and nowhere to go.  The novel makes for an interesting read, but certainly not an engaging one.  For Conrad completists, and those trying to assess the influence Ford had on the story.

I read the Delphi Kindle edition.

 Anne Hillerman's latest mystery novel is called Lost Birds, published in 2024.  Continuing to write in her father's footsteps, retired Navajo cop Joe Leaphorn returns to centre stage for this story, mostly set in New Mexico's northwest badlands.  Ms. Hillerman's job is not an easy one.  First, she must use the characters introduced and developed by her father, putting her own spin on things while remaining true to Tony Hillerman's vision.  Second, she must reflect the current Navajo scene without offending anyone, using Native advisors as well as historical truths as a base.  Trying to deal with real problems facing the Navajo Nation is a pretty tough task for a white person to undertake these days.  She must also be very familiar with not only how the Navajo police do their job (and what their job actually is), but also with the NM State Police and the FBI.  Crime scene work today is much different than when Tony Hillerman wrote The Blessing Way, his first novel, back in 1970 (highly recommended reading).

Sometimes those tasks are so daunting that creating a workable plot with new characters can be overwhelming.  Ms. Hillerman has three main characters to deal with in her novels.  They are retired Lieutenant Leaphorn, police lieutenant Jim Chee, and his wife, officer Bernadette (Bernie) Manuelito.  The author jumps back and forth between these three characters throughout most of her 8 or 9 novels.  She not only deals with their police work (the retired Leaphorn is now a private investigator), but also their private lives.  Both sides of the characters are usually dealt with really well.

In the current novel, "lost birds" is an actual moniker for Navajo babies who were adopted into white families to help them escape their origins, and assimilate them into white culture.  This went on, protested by natives, until 1978.  This novel deals with a 50 year old woman trying to find out who her birth mother was.  There is also a murder, and explosion, and packs of wild dogs causing havoc (a real problem on the vast reservation).  The several plots winding through the novel have some holes, but overall it is a good read.  There is a vast area of NM we have yet to visit (next year, fall 2025?), as well as Monument Valley in Arizona, and some essential sites in Utah.  Reading any Hillerman story, by Tony or Anne, puts me in places I would rather be.  Though I can highly recommend most of the books by Tony, Anne does not always measure up to dad's level.  She does come pretty close this time, though.

 

I read the Kindle edition. 

 

F. Marion Crawford's To Leeward was published in 1883.  It is a mostly depressing novel that takes place during a hot summer in Italy.  It begins optimistically enough, with a young and intelligent Leonora marrying Marcantonnio, a well off man from a noble and old Italian family.  He loves her deeply, but it takes her a few months to realize she does not love him.  She is a romantic young thing, and longs for a sweeping heroic manly man to come along and sweep her off her feet.  Along comes Julius Bastiscombe, friend to Marcantonnio's sister.  He sees the lovely Leonora and decides that he must possess her.  Things escalate until the inevitable happens, and she elopes with the rogue.  Marcantonnio goes mad and sets out to kill them both.  So yes, a depressing story.  It is well written, and the characters (there are four main ones, including the sister) are well drawn and quite believable.  To me this would make a decent Merchant/Ivory type of film.  If you like your love stories tragic and very warm, you might like this novel.  However, the sudden and very brief ending to the story was disappointing.  I prefer my endings to epic stories to be somewhat more spacious.

Griffin and Sabine by Nick Bantok was published as three small, very artistic books beginning in 1990.  The second book is called Sabine's Notebook, and the third being The Golden Mean.  These works were first brought to my attention by a friend when they were published in the form of a sort of game for PC.  We bought the books afterwards, and gave them to my father.  When he passed away earlier this year I got the books back, and read them.  The story is told through letters and postcards only.  The first book is the best of the series.  Griffin is a designer of postcards, while Sabine is a stamp designer for a fictitious South Seas Islands country.  He lives in London, and they began to communicate.  A mystery lies at the heart of their relationship, and it is a great pleasure to gradually discover the mystery and its development.  The second book seems to me too much of a frustration, as they each travel across the world to meet, but never do.  Do they ever get to meet?  Read the third book to find out.  Besides the writing, the art is eccentric and quite fabulous, from the postcard designs and including the stamps.  A fun idea well executed, and worth discovering for lovers of things odd and unusual.

Book One of the series of three. 

 

Lastly comes one of the great adventure books of all time, The Lost World by Arthur Conan Doyle.  Published in 1912, this influential SF novel still makes for fun reading.  Somehow I had never read it before now, despite reading dozens of its imitators.  Of course it was heavily influenced by Jules Verne, but so what.  My Delphi Kindle edition included the original pencil illustrations.  Readers can immediately tell that this is the way adventure books were written back in the good old days, since it takes six or seven chapters to really get going.  But the entire exposition is priceless reading, especially where it concerns Professor Challenger, the man who claimed to have visited a site up the Amazon where prehistoric beasts still roam.  He is certainly one of the more colourful characters from early adventure fiction.  I found this to be a very fun read, despite the lack of female characters (though the lone female character does provide a chuckle or two at the end).  Of course a Mary Kingsley type of character could have easily been introduced as one of the party, but that probably would have stretched readers credulity at the time more than the dinosaurs.

 

Original cover of the first edition.

 

One of several original sketches included in the Kindle edition, done on site by Malone, the reporter who went on the  journey with three others. 

 

That's all the reading news for this month.  See you in August. 

Mapman Mike

 

 

 
 

 

Picard, Spirograph, and Some Film Discussion (and a snake)

The film discussion goes without saying, but I begin with Season One of Picard, the three-season 30 episode series starring Patrick Stewart.  I will begin by saying that he is old; very old.  The first season is one large story.  It concerns non-human life and its right to exist.  The Romulans wish to destroy the final outpost of AI creation, because of a legend they believe in that says destruction of other intelligent lifeforms will follow.  Captain Picard, however, believes otherwise.  The best thing about this series is that it actually wraps up at the end; there is no cliffhanger demanding that we run out and watch Season Two to find out what happens.  Many of the major characters from Next Generation (most of them) are back, including 7 of 9, Data (who is dead), and Will Riker (now married to Deanna Troy).  But new characters are also introduced, and we end up with a very motley but fun crew by the end of the season.  Without saying too much about the story, it is Star Trek through and through, with Picard getting to order Earl Grey tea, and to say "Engage," and things like that.  There is also closure relating back to Data's death in the original series.  Despite the many tropes, it was fun to watch.  I cannot think of another TV series where the lead character is so old.  Nice to see.  We will most certainly watch Season Two, after we watch the rest of Season One Discovery (15 episodes).

 

One of the toys I really wanted as an older child but never got was a Spirograph set.  There are now many different kinds and sizes of them, but I recently bought myself the original set.  Though there is not an infinite number of designs available in it, there is nearly an infinite number of designs.  So far I have barely managed to figure how to use it, and I am experimenting with single wheel designs.  One uses a tooth smaller wheel inside (or outside) a larger wheel, also toothed.  It takes a bit of practice to ensure smooth movement so the lines don't mess up.  My set includes two larger wheels, called rings, 15 wheels to use with them, 4 non-round shaped wheels (haven't got to those yet), 8 coloured markers, paper, and putty to hold down the larger rings.  Here are my earliest successes, very simple designs done with a single wheel.  Each wheel has several holes which change the design slightly when used.

 

Mine came with 8 markers.

My kit.
 

Four of my early attempts at being a Spirograph technician, first rank.  Right now I am not of any rank at all. 

 

In other Homestead news, we had a visitor to our front door this afternoon.  Deb went to see if an expected package had arrived yet, and instead found this critter looking for some shade (it is very warm and sunny today).

 

 

We were visited by an Eastern Fox Snake today.  Gorgeous critter! 

 

In film news, it was a Latin American Festival, of sorts.  Two Cuban films and one from Mexico ended up in our watch list, all of them leaving Mubi soon.  But let us begin with a Czech fantasy film called The Cassandra Cat, a colour film from 1963 and directed by Voytech Jasny.  A small town (Telc, a very famous town now) is visited by a travelling road show.  It contains a magical cat that reveals to all a person's true colour when it is not wearing its protective glasses.  Suddenly people are exposed as their true selves, and it mostly does not go down well with the locals.  This is a pretty strange film, starring a class of third graders (so cute!) who end up saving the cat from being destroyed by impinged humans.  Red people are in love; yellow and purple people are liars, unfaithful to their spouses, envious, or otherwise flawed.  Part of the Czech New Wave, it is certainly worth seeking out.  There are some fun classroom art scenes, and some very funny lines.  Children should definitely like the film, if they can sit still anymore.

Now showing on Criterion. 

 

And now to Japan.  The Black Report is from 1963, and was directed by Yasuzo Masumru.  It is a depressing crime film where a guilty man is set free, thanks to the craftiness of his defense attorney, and a rather inept and unskilled prosecutor.  It is as bit like an intense episode of Law and Order.  A bit unbelievable, as every single witness suddenly changes their testimony when they get on the stand (they were bribed and threatened by the defense lawyer).  The three sitting judges don't seem to think anything is amiss, and the prosecutor doesn't even do much about it except scratch his head.  The film goes out of its way to show that evidence doesn't matter (they had hair and fingerprints from the scene that matched the suspect), and signed and witnessed statements don't matter; only what is said on the stand matters.  And everyone knows that people don't lie.  A good ending, anyway, as the prosecutor loses his promotion and is sent to the boonies to learn something about prosecuting.

 

Leaving Mubi in 3 days. 

 

Finally, on to Cuba.  Stronger Than Love is from 1955, directed by Tulio Demicheli and filmed entirely in Cuba.  It's a distinctly Latino version of The Taming of the Shrew, and in some ways quite an interesting look at machismo culture, which is still going nowhere today.  Despite this, it's still a fun film, with doses of humour and passion, the kind of melodrama not seen anymore.  It's well acted, and the settings in the local tavern are fun to watch.  A totally forgotten film, back in the circuit.  Miroslava, the female lead, is quite a knock out, and suitably grouchy and passionate, alternately.

Leaving Mubi in 3 days. 

 

Lastly comes a Mexican melodrama directed by a female!  Streetwalker is from 1951, directed by Matilde Landeta.  I'm sure that (male) audiences in 1951 expected some kind of sleazy look at the underbelly of Mexico City, and those that trod there.  Instead we are given a feminist film that not only shows the reality of life on the streets as a single woman, but sympathizes entirely with them.  It is by no means a great film, and there are several quite terrible songs.  But it certainly is different in its outlook!  Try to find another film like it from the 1950s.  The ending turned out differently than expected, but the story does come to an interesting conclusion.  Sadly, viewers are left wondering if the woman who is not in love with her rich husband should have stayed with him.  In this case, I think yes.  But love is a strange little thing, and can make people do all sorts of illogical deeds.  Another rarity back on screen, and with Miroslava!

 

Leaving Mubi in 3 days.

Mapman Mike

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dog Days of Summer

Though it has not been an exceptionally hot summer, there have been many uncomfortable days.  Today is one, where heat and humidity (and pollution) make it difficult to breathe outdoors.  Green things are going brown, as they often do this time of year, due to burning sun and infrequent rain.  We are considering a day trip to Detroit on Thursday.  We shall see.

6 pm Update:  We just had a deluge of rain!  Looks like grass cutting is on for tomorrow.

 

I have embarked on my 2nd week of piano on the newest pieces.  These works, two of which I have previously learned (decades ago), should come up fairly fast.  The program will open with Bach's 2-Part Invention in F Minor.  He wrote 15 of these pieces, each one in a different key.  When I graduated from university one of the first piano projects I undertook was learning all 15 inventions.  These works provide a wide variety of 2-part writing, and remain among my favouite keyboard works to this day.  The 2nd piece on the program is a big step up in difficulty, Bach's 3-Part Invention (Sinfonia) in F Minor.  Simply put, this is one of Bach's greatest works, and until now I have always put off learning it.  It is quite daunting in its minimalist manner, with three notes essentially repeating and being varied throughout the entire work.  Unlike the 2-part one in the same key, it is not really an audience pleaser.  Rather, it is a meditation for the performer.

 

Concluding the first half of the program is Haydn's Sonata in C (#35), probably his happiest and most joyful work.  It's a piece someone in the practice room at university is always learning (at least the first movement), but I have never wanted to play it until now.  It will provide the major contrast in mood between the Bach pieces, which are somber, and the 2ndf half, which are very somber.  There are three movements.  The 2nd movement is slow, very melodic, and exceedingly well written and beautiful.  The final movement is moderately quick, and quite short.

 

The 2nd half of the program contains (so far) only three works: Gnossienne #3 by Satie, Footprints in the Snow by Debussy, and Etude #20 by Philip Glass.  The Satie piece is inspired by the mythology and art of Knossos, and is slow and reflective.  The Debussy piece, like the Bach 3-Part Invention, is pure minimalism, this time toned down to mostly two notes that hold the piece together.  The Glass etude is the most difficult piece on the program, mostly due to its large stretch requirements.  It is my favourite of the 20 etudes, and I look forward to performing it.

 

In film news, here's the latest report.  Chinese Odyssey 2002 is a Chinese wuxia film, one of the best we have seen.  It is ridiculously funny, and whoever did the translations from Chinese to English did a great job.  With its cross-dressing heroine disguised as a man, the Shakespearean element is noted and admired.  A restless young emperor and his sister want to head out into the world and seek adventure, but escaping the palace and the Empress Dowager is no easy task.  Meanwhile, in a village far from the palace lives 'Bully the Kid" and his sister.  He has been away causing mischief, but has returned, much to the chagrin of the locals who fear him.  This is an irresistible film, and great fun from start to finish.  There is very little fighting, but plenty of action and laughs.  Highly recommended.  It is part of a series, but stands alone just fine.

Showing on Criterion. 

 

Death In the Garden is from 1956, an overlooked gem by Luis Bunuel.  A group of miners in South America are being bullied and run off the land by government soldiers, and a bloody and deadly dispute carries the first half of the picture.  Filmed in Eastmancolor.  There are a lot of major characters stirring up the pot, and once we know who they are they are on the run from the law.  They hijack a boat and head for the border with Brazil, and freedom from capture.  One of the men was accused of murdering a soldier, and despite his innocence he is forced to flee with his deaf-mute daughter.  Along comes the local priest, also in trouble; a rogue of an adventurer; and a local sex worker.  Their time in the jungle, once they leave their boat, is like no other walk through the jungle we have ever seen.  The ending is a surprise, along with a few other surprises along the way.  A memorable and pretty great film, actually, that virtually no one has heard of, let alone seen.  Thank you Mubi!

 

Leaving Mubi soon. 

 

In the 1970s American TV was saturated by really bad TV movies, from all genres.  Inspector Ike, from 2020, is a spoof of the Columbo type of mystery of the week TV movie.  There is bad music, bad acting, a bad plot, and the great detective Ike.  Ike is a great character, and can somehow appear at just the right moment to remove all tension from a scene, making viewers feel that they are being looked after, as well as the innocent people threatened by the murderer.  This is a laugh-out-loud film, and sure to please fans of earlier TV dramas.  Anyone feel like having some chile con carne tonight?

 

Now showing on Mubi.  This is a great poster! 

 

The Skeleton of Mrs. Morales is a Mexican film from 1960.  It has all the makings and trimmings of a cult classic, as a tormented husband finally does the deed, killing his wacko and puritanical wife.  She is surrounded by friends and a priest who believe it is she who is being tortured and beaten by her husband.  The husband is a taxidermist, and is well prepared to handle the aftermath of the killing.  Even the killing is done using a tool of the trade, so to speak.  This is definitely one of those pictures where you hope that the husband will get away with murder.  There are several very funny moments of dark humour.  One example is when the wife goes out, leaving her husband alone with the young maid.  As soon as she is gone he sneaks up to the maid's room, where she awaits him with big smiles.  Just when you think the worst of him, it turns out that he wants her to cook him a big thick steak.  His eating meat disgusts his wife, and when she is gone he can indulge in a big meal.  Another is after he has killed her and is preparing to get rid of the body.  She always insisted on him washing his hands with alcohol before he touched his food, or came near her.  At the last second he remembers her wishes and washes his hands.  In black and white, this is a one of a kind film.  Recommended for gothic horror fans.

Showing on Mubi.  It got a screening one year at Tiff! 

 

Next time, a look at the first season of Picard.  See you then.

 

Mapman Mike.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Recital and Some Film Glimpses

Last Sunday was piano recital day.  A big thank you to Paula M., Joady U., and Randy G. for stopping by to hear some music.  A performance is always a learning opportunity, and this one was no exception.  Some notes to self:  I call this (in hindsight) a three hour per day recital program.  I practiced two hours a day (and a bit more closer to the recital date).  That left me with considerable work yet to do by recital day.  The Beethoven Sonata Op 10 #3 was the main piece.  I opened with a Bach Prelude and Fugue (Eb+, Bk 2).  These six movements alone (2 by Bach and 4 by Beethoven) were easily worth two hours per day.  But I tried to squeeze six more pieces into that two hours--a Chopin Nocturne, a Mendelssohn Venetian Gondola Song, and four movements from an astronomy suite by Canadian composer Alexina Louie.  That should have been my third hour, but it was crammed into the two per day I try to maintain.  And in addition, several weeks earlier I began work on the first movement of a Haydn Sonata, which I had no business doing.

 

There is, however, some good news; I found I was able to concentrate on just the music for the entire performance.  This is a first for me; usually my mind wanders off to strange corners of inner thoughts for at least some of a performance.  There were also many times when I was completely unaware of an audience, which is something the big pros often say happens to them.  So it appears that my concentration is improving, if not my actual performances.  Next time I have a much more modest program planned.  Some things about the newest pieces will be discussed next time.

 

Our yard has become inundated with poison ivy.  As I returned from my bike ride yesterday morning I noticed that the lawn care guy was cutting the neighbour's grass.  I walked across the road to ask him if he knew of anyone who could help us get rid of the pesky plants.  He did; himself.  He will come next Wednesday and spray, as well as clean up a sizable overgrown area adjacent to our garage.  A lot of other plants are thriving, too, including our day lilies, which seemed to have a good year.

 

Day Lilies blooming at the Homestead. 

 

In film news there are three to mention.  All three are from the Criterion streaming service.  My pick was Don't Look Now, a 1973 film by Nicolas Roeg.  Based on a story by Daphne du Maurier, we have always somehow managed to avoid it until now.  It is a sort of psychotronic murder story starring Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie.  It features some lovely shots of an almost tourist-free Venice during off-season, as well as a blind woman who warns that Sutherland is in great danger while in Venice.  There is also a serial killer running around doing their thing.  Though it appears to follow the book, it is not a very good film.  For one thing, it is way too long (as is the interminable sex scene between the two leads).  For another, it's just not very gripping.  It needs a gondola chase (or something).  The police seem unable to catch the serial killer, even though it mysteriously and ridiculously runs around in a bright red raincoat.  Except for the Venice photography, there really isn't much else to see here.

Leaving Criterion July 31st. 

 

Next came two picks by Deb.  Adaptation is a 2002 film directed by Spike Jonze.  With a stellar cast led by Nicolas Cage, the film promised so much at the beginning.  Eventually it just turns into another American film ruined by Hollywood cliches.  Cage is very good playing twins, both screen writers with very opposite characters and goals.  This is one of those films that American viewers likely regard as "deep," or "like a European film."  No doubt that was a goal.  But a film about orchids simply won't go over well in America, a theme that comes up often in the film.  Despite trying to avoid the worst kind of cliches in his screenplay, Cage must bite the bullet, succumbing to Hollywood "adaptation."  Once we add illegal drugs, some guns, a shooting, a swamp chase, a car accident, and lessons learned, we have a movie!  This is the point of the movie.  Sigh.  Why tell us this, when we already know it, and have thousands of bad examples for reference?  Because American audiences blah blah blah.  Well, American audiences seem to like a lot of European films that don't follow the standard American formula.  This isn't some kind of genius and original idea that the film comes up with.  I mean, how stupid is the audience?

 

Now showing on Criterion. 

 Lastly came a very odd little fairy tale film from Jacques Demy,  From 1970, it is called Donkey Skin.  This film was probably watched by thousands of French children, much to their detriment.  If they had to watch it more than once, they were likely left permanently damaged.  Based on a real Cinderella-like story, the use of colour is pretty amazing.  And Catherine Deneuve is very pretty, especially with all the fairy princess dresses she gets to wear.  The story has its bizarre moments, when the king decides to marry his daughter.  But for the interference of her fairy godmother, she likely would have.  And there are some funny scenes when all the maidens in the kingdom come to the palace try on a ring (no glass shoe here).  The look of the film is quite good, though I'm not a fan of painting horses red.  But what really ruins the film are several insipid, tuneless, utterly unmusical songs.  Each song sounds exactly the same!  The non-genius of Michel Legrand is on full display here.  On a side note, there appear to be some Oompa Loompas in the film.

Now showing on Criterion. 

 

Mapman Mike

 

 

Three Recent Films: Polish, French, American

The last film of my festival choices for June was called Blind Chance, a Polish film by the director of the recently seen Camera Buff.  From 1981, director Kieslowski presents a young man (Witek) who seems to fall from one extreme to the other.  At first he is a medical student, but drops out in fourth year.  He ends up working for the communist party in Poland, until a girlfriend from the past drops into his life.  She works for the underground, but thanks to Witek's loose mouth, she and her band are arrested for printing and distributing political leaflets against the current regime.  He chucks the party and moves back to medicine, falling in love with a woman he knew from med school.  The film gives a good idea of what life was like in Poland when the Russians marched in, and Solidarity was trying to organize strikes.  Many people today are clueless as to these happenings, but I do remember them well.  I don't consider this a great film, and Witek's repeated running to catch a departing train soon wearies me.  I get the symbolism, but it still wearies me.  The ending is very cheap, and not to be taken seriously.  Good grief.  We have several more films to come by this director.

 

Now showing on Criterion. 

 

Next came Deb's two choices.  It was our second viewing of Amelie, a film from 2001 by Jean-Pierre Jeunet.  We liked it as much or better than the first time around, noting the striking resemblance to the films of Wes Anderson this time around.  This film, however, is much better than any film by Anderson I have ever seen.  Where Anderson has cold and calculating characters, Jeunet has warm ones.  The characters here have both hearts and souls, something Anderson seems to know very little about.  The character of Amelie is a little devil mixed with a little angel.  She holds the picture together, but is assisted by many terrific performances from minor characters, including the glass man, the people at the cafe (employees and customers), and the best one of all, the simple young man who works at the neighbourhood fruit and veg stand.  Needlessly and cruelly mocked by his boss, Amelie effectively takes matters into her own hands.  You will never pass another photo booth without thinking of this film.  A winner from start to finish!

Leaving Criterion July 31st. 

 

Fremont is a film by Babak Jalali from 2023.  A young woman who was a translator for the US military in Afghanistan now lives in Fremont California, working in a small family fortune cookie factory.  When the woman who writes the little blurbs for the cookies dies suddenly, she is given the job of writing.  She can't sleep at night, and goes to a therapist for help.  She eats alone in an Afghan restaurant at night.  When she finally sets out to meet a stranger (based on a note and phone number she left to be placed in a cookie), she gets more than she bargained for.  The deadpan acting by Anaita Wali Zada as the young woman is perfect in so many ways.  Highly recommended.

 

In local news I broke a piece off of a right molar yesterday.  Got it repaired today by our dentist of many years, and it feels a whole lot better.  Thank you Dr. Gregory Hanaka! 

 

And we are still playing and enjoying Riven.  Finally found the submarine!  It's more user friendly now, too.

 

Mapman Mike

 

The New Version of Riven

We have been playing for a few days now, and are finally getting used to all of the changes in the 2024 version of Riven.  It would be a total blast to play the VR version.  Someday, perhaps!  So far we have explored Temple Island, where one first arrives.  There are many changes, though the landscape and transport systems remain largely intact.  Some of the puzzles are virtually the same, while others have changed drastically.  Those mysterious spinning fire marbles are even more mysterious now.  Pathways have been changed, most noticeable within the largest dome on the island.  Gehn's chair, where he can seem to appear to worshippers in the temple, is in an entirely new location now, though the temple itself remains unchanged.

 

The main difference is now those revolving fire marbles.  In the old game they would open and.... in the new version they open and can be entered, descending into the starry abyss via catwalks and ladders.  Gehn's idea to escape Riven was to create a linking book using the large central dome as the focus of power from the 5 spinning marbles.  Once the five smaller spinning marbles have been mastered, it is very easy to hop from one island to another.  We took our first trip.

 

We have also been to Jungle Island, likewise finding many changes there, too.  Lots of mysterious religious figures, and lo and behold there is an inventory system now.  While we always carried the special linking book, and a notebook given to us by Atrus at the beginning, there are now a few other things to carry, important to new aspects of the plot.  Over on Boiler Island, there is a new and somewhat easier way to get into Gehn's laboratory, where we are now puzzling over the new puzzles.  Moving in 360 degrees is fun, though the sky never changes, like it does in the revised Myst.  All the water moves, though, and there are mysterious cracks in the ocean.  We know that Gehn has not built a solid world, and there is much more evidence of that now.  The original soundtrack is there, but there is some new material, too.  Though players can turn in any direction, they are still mostly confined to the paths laid out in the original game, plus several new paths never seen before.  Some amazing rendering work has been done here, and each day we look forward to playing some more.  A final review will be posted here when we have finished the game.

 

 

It's strange to think that a masterpiece game like Riven can be improved.  It's a bit like the Vivaldi Four Seasons, and what Max Richter has done with them.  Bold, but very refreshing.

 

In film news, my festival choices are nearly complete.  We are now on the final film.  Before that we watched Daphne, a 2007 dramatization of the life of Daphne du Maurier.  It's a fairly pedestrian look at her leanings towards lesbianism.  When she sees the woman she will obsess over for many years (and who will reject her advances) she says she feels like an 18 year old boy.  She prefers wearing trousers, and has a torrid affair with an older woman, an actress from her play.  It's a pretty slim story, and I'm not sure that du Maurier fans will be too impressed.  Read her works instead.

 

Showing on Prime. 

 

Next came the 2nd film in Obayashi's anti-war trilogy.  Seven Weeks is from 2014, and tells the story, in its own unique way, of a 92 year old man who has died.  As the family comes together for the funeral rituals (which last for seven weeks) viewers learn about his life, especially his wartime memories.  There is a lot of fast talking in the film, putting subtitle readers at a disadvantage for enjoying the beautiful shots of local scenery, or even noting what is happening away from the centre of the screen.  It is a complicated story, and often told in a complicated manner.  The first film, Casting Blossoms To The Sky, though often avant garde in its storytelling, seemed more approachable and easier to sit back and enjoy.  I enjoyed the present film a lot, but I feel that one viewing was not enough to make total sense of what the director was doing.  I think perhaps a less experimental approach to the story would have been much better, leaving people with a better idea of what is going on.

Now showing on Criterion. 

A few weeks ago we watched The Third Murder, a great film directed by Hirokazu Koreeda.  This time it was the director's family drama After The Storm, from 2016.  A man, divorced from his wife, gets to see his son once every month.  He is behind on child support, and being threatened with the visits being stopped.  He wrote a best selling novel years ago but has no responsible sense with money.  He gambles at the track (bicycle races) and is working as a sleazy private detective.  The storm in question is Typhoon #34.  He, his former wife, and young son are forced to stay over at his mother's apartment during the storm.  He is a loser, through and through, and we are happy that his wife managed to get away.  It is the character of his mother that really steals the film away.  What a great role for an elderly Asian woman to get!  The actress is totally amazing, and we soon long for scenes that have her in them.  Another interesting aspect of the film is the discussion the estranged husband and wife have during the storm, where he finally realizes that he and she are not meant to be together anymore.  There is no shouting or screaming, as one would find in American breakup movies, and he doesn't get a gun and shoot her, his son, and then himself.  This is a distinctly Japanese view of resolving problems, and is quite refreshing, especially when the man finally accepts his fate.  Highly recommended.  We are on the lookout for his other films.

 

After The Storm, showing on Mubi. 

 

Mapman Mike

 

-

 

 

June Readings

 The reality of trying to make a living as a professional writer in the 1960s is on full display in this Robert Silverberg 1965 soft-core porn novel Killer, originally called Passion Killer.  For a decent SF writer to have to resort to writing this stuff is not only sad, but also not very surprising.  Its 156 pages contain a short story about a hired killer about to double cross the man who hired him to kill his wife, but in the end someone else also gets double crossed.  The actual story is about 40 pages long; the rest consists of people having sex nearly every which way.  And the top heavy females, who just love to have sex, consist of a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead.  All bases covered.  The basic story is okay, similar to any number of crime story plots from so many novels and or films.  The sex described in the book, which was probably sold under the counter in those days in certain types of book shops, is likely milder than in most best sellers of today.  Some may call this progress.  I call it something else.

From 1979 comes the next volume in the Dray Prescott series. A Life For Kregen is #19 in the series.  Bulmer seems to be having a lot of fun destroying the country where Dray is now Emperor, and seeing the locals fight to win it back from the enemy.  Vallia always depended on mercenary soldiers to defend its borders.  That didn't work so well when those soldiers were paid higher to revolt.  So now the average Vallian citizen is learning how to fight, something never seen before in the country. 

Bulmer may have created the best longest running fantasy series ever written.  It is essentially a story of battles against evil rulers, and Dray's attempts, often futile, to abolish slavery.  This volume is no exception.  But another theme continually emerges in the later books, that of Dray's family.  His wife and at least one daughter belong to a mysterious women only cult, which trains women warriors, among other things.  Dray rescues Jillian (see smaller cover, below), a new and fun character added to the many friends Dray has made during his stay on Kregen.  But one of his daughters is still out to kill him and help overthrow Vallia, though we don't know why.  She hates her father and thinks he is a coward.  Obviously she does not know him.

Though the book is filled with some thrilling battles and daring rescues, it's often at its best when Dray is thinking about things, wondering why things are happening the way they are, and figuring out how best to proceed with his plans to restore Vallia to its former glory.  The author's sense of humour is now always on display, and the proceedings, though often dire, are often relieved by moments of fun.  The books are more complex than anything I have ever read, with the amount of different countries, cities, mountains, deserts, seas, creatures, birds, and various races of people being very hard to keep track of.  And each book is obviously well planned before it is written.  Bulmer continues to succeed with this fun and everlasting series.  As a final note, once again he is not against killing off an important character.

 

The 4th entry in the SF series Cap Kennedy by E C Tubb is actually quite good.  In #4, Enemy Within The Skull, Cap Kennedy must stop a mad alien from using a powerful new concoction that brings out the worst violent nature in humans when exposed to it.  The alien plans to administer massive doses to people on Earth, in the hope that they will turn violently on each other, thus dooming the human race (not really needed, if he knew anything about humans).  As usual, the alien finds a receptive planet all too willing to believe his lies, which promises them untold power and riches once his plan succeeds.  Not too likely.

This is a lively entry in the series.  Cap usually works with a small team, like Doc Savage, and these people are finally being characterized more deeply as we come to know them better.  One of them is the giant man depicted on the original cover, below.  I think Tubb is borrowing a bit from the Doc Savage team, but not enough that it seems like a ripoff.

 

Cover by Jack Gaughan. 

 

Though better written than the previous Elric story, The White Wolf's Son by Michael Moorcock still has several problems.  In this story, published in 2005 and 339 pages long, Moorcock attempts to unite many of his favourite characters, including Elric, Bastable, Lord Renyard (the fox), Corum, and others from different series.  Oona is back (the Dreamthief's daughter), as is our trusty bad guys, Gaynor and his sidekick Klosterheim.  New to the story is Oonagh, the 12 year old granddaughter of Oona.  It's all quite confusing, especially if you haven't read the Corum series books in a while.  Those same events are seen now from a different perspective.

While Moorcock makes a heroic effort to bring so many previous characters into one book, his plot is still mostly fantasy nonsense.  Of course the bad guys get their way until the final twenty pages or so, and the great climax of the story is a sword fight between Gaynor and Elric (how original, I comments dryly, rolling my eyes).  And the problem of having a 12 year old as the central character, is that we know deep down that nothing bad will really happen to her.  She does lose some blood for a sacrifice, but as she is telling the story, she obviously survives.  She is plucky and smart, and is actually a welcome character compared to the morose people usually found in Moorcock's fantasy novels.

Now for the plot. The two bad guys have worked for hundreds of years for their chance to destroy everything, or rule everything, or something (big yawn).  Their plot can't miss (remember "The Master" from Dr. Who?).  Well, here is a spoiler.  They fail again.  What a surprise ending indeed.

I get the feeling that the author was trying to wrap up his Elric tales with this book.  We shall see....

 

Published in 2007, Barry Malzberg's Breakfast In The Ruins is a direct sequel to Engines of the Night.  Published in 2007, Engines is included (see last month's reading blog) for a total page count of 396.  Each book is thus close to 198 pages.  More essays on SF can be found here, dating from the 80s and 90s mostly.  Often Malzberg's writing does not get to much of a point, while at other times he scores direct hits.  His essay on Ballard is an example of both in one, as the text seems to wander about for a while before zeroing in on why Ballard's writing matters, and what effect it had on later writers.  However, he totally dismisses the early novels, such as The Crystal World, as being too derivative of early British SF disaster writing.  Hmm.  Not quite, Mr. Malzberg.

Many writers and editors are discussed, and the name dropping is quite astonishing.  It was a small world indeed for SF writers back in the day when almost all stories were first published in magazines, and everyone knew everyone.  The history of SF writing is not so very complicated, as separate essays on Asimov and Campbell illustrate.  Those two writers/editors largely influenced most of the SF that was written in the 50s, for example.  For anyone well read in older SF, this book will be a treasure to keep and reread.  Highly recommended, especially if you get the edition with both collections.

Engines ended with a fictional short story about a characteristic SF writer from the 50s, as he ages and realizes that what he has done with his life has little or no meaning (written well before Kindle editions of practically everything ever published began to come out).  In Breakfast he writes a sequel to that story, taking the writer to his final bedroom scene, where he exits, forever.  The two stories neatly summarize what it must have been like to have been a SF pulp writer.  One doesn't even need to read the essays to find out.  But do read them.

 

Turning now to (mostly) Delphi Classics, I began with a wonderful novel called Gallantry, by James Branch Cabell and published in 1907.  Each of the ten stories relates an episode that illustrates the title term.  Most of them have overlapping characters, and should be read in sequence, but this is not your ordinary novel.  Cabell at his best (which is pretty much always) cannot really be described well by this writer.  This novel is like being presented with ten of the finest bon bons or aperitifs ever created.  They should not be gobbled down, but rather first looked at, then lightly sniffed, then touched, and finally bitten in to and carefully chewed and swallowed.  And low and behold, those flavours!  Witty delicacies tell only part of the magic that await readers of Cabell.  There is more solid fare, too, but it is delivered in a seemingly harmless and off hand manner, so that the reader must be careful when things appear to become frivolous;  they really are not.  A wonderful collection of examples of men and women fulfilling their roles in magnificently human ways.  A treasure!

 

Next came Robert Chambers' next novel dealing with the Franco-Prussian War.  Lorraine was published in 1897 and comes first in the 3-book chronology.  Previous novels and short stories of his dealt with things from inside Paris.  However, this time we are in Lorraine, a province of France that borders Germany, Luxembourg, and Belgium.  The German attack comes through Lorraine first, and it is devastating.  The Prussian War lasted from 1870 thru 1871, and the French suffered terribly.  Chambers mixes in a love story between Lorraine, a young girl raised in a castle, and Marche, an American whose aunt and uncle own a big chateau not far from the castle.  Though he quickly falls in love with the young French girl, she takes a lot longer to fall in love with him.  Lorraine comes with a history, one that she will never fully learn.  She is a very simple character, her childhood formed by having no mother, and a father who chooses to work on his scientific projects rather than spend time with his daughter.  The relationship between Marche and girl, and the girl and her father, are handled well by the author, but it is his recounting of the beginning of the war that really shines here.  Chambers lists his sources and military advisors.  Though overlaid with a fictional plot, the war events are accurate.  The brutality and senselessness of war is brought home time and again, and the civilians and soldiers who survive are left permanently scarred by events, not to mention any wounds incurred.  While a 'happy' ending might seem a bit naive to readers today, this reader was very glad to come across it.  Any war, anywhere, and at any period of history, is a violent and shameful event.  The fact that wars are still being fought in 2024 tells us that no one learns very much from history.  In this case, the Prussians might have 'won' the war, but they too suffered terrible losses.  Despite much gloom and doom, this is a very rewarding novel to read.  Highly recommended.  It can be read for free on-line at Project Gutenberg, but I can highly recommend the Delphi Classics version.

1897 edition. 

 

Jump ahead 42 years and we arrive at Raymond Chandler's crime thriller The Big Sleep, published in 1939.  It isn't a complicated novel, and most actions have an equal reaction.  I've seen both movies many times, the 1978 version staring Robert Mitchum being the most recent screeening.  This film (there is a 1946 Bogart one, too) closely follows the written word, not leaving out very much of the plot.  Philip Marlowe isn't really much of a hero.  He has had experience with life, and has learned to only trust himself.  He is brave, somewhat stupid from time to time, but at least he is on the up and up.  He doesn't take advantage of clients, only charges $25 a day (plus expenses), and seems to keeps his hands off of girls.  He often does not carry a gun, though he ends up collecting some as the story moves along.

An old man hires Marlowe to keeps his two daughters out of trouble.  One is separated from her husband and likes to play roulette.  The other one, much younger, is not only big trouble, but also certifiable as insane. The body count is soon rising.  To my surprise, Marlowe only becomes unconscious once, and is never hit on the back of the head.  Movies and TV detective shows like these sort of tropes, but Chandler doesn't much go in for them.  The story continues to wind like a California Pacific Coast road, taking sharp turns again and again.  It's easy to get lost if you are not paying attention, or have set the book aside for several days.  It's best to read this one quickly.

It's quite well done, though the writing never gets much higher than average pulp fiction standard.  And Marlowe is not a very charismatic hero.  Enjoyable but not essential reading.

 

The Club of Queer Trades is a collection of six stories by Chesterton published in 1905.  The title, as explained in an introduction, examines 6 different and completely unique ways of earning a living.  The prospective member must earn his living in a job never seen before.  It must be different from others in significant ways, not merely a variation on an existing occupation.  We read about six different achievements by members of the club.  Imagine having to come up with no less than six unique occupations, one per story.  The stories are often humourous, and any violence turns out to be mostly unnecessary and quite comic.  The stories show Chesterton to be both highly intelligent and very witty.  He slyly pokes fun at Holmes and Watson, using three main characters that recur in each story.  And at the very end he brings all the characters from each story together for a wonderful conclusion.  Highly recommended fun for lovers of unusual mystery stories, as we never learn the occupation of an individual until the end of each story.

 

Next to last came Iain Banks' 2002 novel Dead Air.  Though a bit of a pot boiler, as if the author owed his publisher a book but wasn't really feeling it, the story nevertheless eventually becomes interesting, if a bit far fetched and over the top.  The main character, Kenneth McNutt ("two Ts"), is a type of morning radio show shock jock.  You have to like a character that describes himself late in the book as "a fuckwit with his thumb superglued to his personal self-destruct button."  Don't we all feel that way sometimes.  Ken gets in way over his head when he begins to secretly meet with the wife of a London crime boss for sex.  Yes, he could have chosen a safer partner, but Ceel is one of a kind.  The novel has several characters that are merely there to fill space, so there is no 'dead air' on the pages.  However, one of my favourite characters is a friend of Ken's called Ed.  Ed is a black DJ who lives at home with his mom in a tarted up old house and drives a black Hummer with blacked out windows.  Try to imagine what it might be like to drive a Hummer through the streets of London, or virtually any European city.  In one funny sequence Ken is doing just that with Ed.  The Hummer is a left hand drive, making it even weirder to drive in London.  Ken says to Ed, who is driving, that he is surprised they haven't been pulled over yet by the police.  And Ed replies, "That's cuz they think you're driving, Mate."  The book is a long one, and takes a lot of time to build up steam.  It all takes place in London, and I think Banks was writing for a London audience (and London press reviews).  It would not be a book I would recommend to someone who has never read Banks, but it does allow the author to have his say on many topics, from Nazis and holocaust deniers to what the Jews were doing to the Palestinians (and vice versa) back in 2002.  Banks likely had to go back and rewrite some of it after the 911 bombings, which are part of the backdrop of the story, though not a major part of it.  Though a mediocre effort from Banks, I did enjoy much of the book.

 

The final book of the month was Kate Chopin's second and final novel, The Awakening, from 1899.  It was her final book, since most publishers disowned her afterwards, due to its themes of sexuality and freedom for the female lead character.  And Edna Pontellies is a very troublesome character.  Modern in many ways, more than a little selfish, she is a Kentucky girl who married into a Catholic Creole family.  She lives in New Orleans, but the story opens in Grand Isle, a summer resort on the Gulf Coast for well to do families escaping the summer heat in the city.  Edna is 28 and has two children.  She comes to realize that she does not love her husband, nor wish to be around him very much.  It is fortunate for her that he travels a lot.  She falls in love with Robert, whose mother runs the summer camp on the Isle.  Robert is 25, and very much appreciates the company of Edna.  They become splendid friends over the summer, and Edna slowly awakens to her feelings of love for the young man, the first time she has felt such feelings.  When Robert realizes what is happening, he heads to Mexico looking for work.  We spend a lot of time inside Edna's head, and truly there isn't a lot going on there except confusion.  She certainly has no precedent, so help from friends in any shape or form is not available.  When Robert returns several months later, he does his best to keep his distance.  Edna's passion for him now totally consumes her.

Critics (male) found Edna to be mostly a repulsive character, mostly for not being satisfied with a loveless marriage and her two children.  Though she loves her children, she is happiest when away from them.  Look to Ibsen for similar themes, and much later Woolf.  But a strongly Catholic outlook at the time had no sympathy for a female character like Edna.  Critics were mostly ruthless, though she did find some support, mostly from women.  She never was allowed to publish again.  Another great victory for a patriarchal society tied to the church.  The only revenge we can have today is to read the novel and marvel at Chopin's strength for writing such a story at that time.  And we might also continue to support women writers, film directors, artists, etc.

 

Mapman Mike