Beyond the Sea

I've written about Bobby Darin before (here), and I was looking forward to seeing Beyond the Sea, the Kevin Spacey movie about Darin's life. I was a little surprised to discover that it was showing at only one theater within my driving range (45 minutes) for seeing movies, and even at that, it was showing only twice a day. Once I settled into the theater, however, I understood. There were only about 30 people in the audience, and every one of them was over 60. This is not the kind of audience that theater owners are interested in attracting.

I don't know what I expected from the movie, but within the first ten minutes it had reached a height of such delirious goofiness that I was completely captivated. I just sat there with a big silly grin on my face and took it all in. It's the same old story (if you saw Ray, you know what I mean): star rises, star falls, star comes back. But the way it's told is definitely different. It's so different that I can't quite describe it, but it almost works. Even the ending ("Bobby Darin is still swinging"), corny as it is, had me wiping away happy tears.

A lot has been made about the middle-aged Spacey playing a young guy like Darin, but there's even a disarming commentary about that early on. Spacey isn't playing Darin. Spacey is Darin. So there.

The music? Well, I love the music, of course. And Spacey isn't bad at the singing part, not bad at all. He's not "spot on," as some critics have said. If they really think that, they've never really listened to Bobby Darin. But he's good enough.

Beyond the Sea isn't a well-made movie. As I said, it's kind of goofy. But I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

My Adventures in Peru: Chapter One

On our first night in Lima, Judy and I went out to eat. Our daughter, Angela, and two of her friends came along. We finally decided to eat at a place called Eddy's. It looked nice, and the menu seemed OK. (Not ominous use of word seemed.) We had something called hamacas, a lot like tamales. Drank bottled water. All seemed well. (Note second ominious use of word seemed.)

We were fine that night. The next morning, we weren't. We were very sick, especially me. I spent a bit of time leaning over the toilet and expelling things. After that, however, I seemed fine. (Note third ominious use of word seemed.) We packed our gear and got ready to fly to Cusco.

When we arrived at the Lima airport, there was quite a line at the check-in counter, and it was warm inside the building. I got almost to the counter when a very weird feeling came over me. I said to Judy, "I think I'm going to pass out." The next thing I knew, I heard people calling my name. I opened my eyes and found myself lying on the floor.

Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. One second I was awake, and the next I wasn't. My body shut down completely and instantly.

I got up and stood there for a few seconds. I felt OK, so I picked up my backpack and said, "I'm fine."

I was wrong. The next thing I knew, I heard people calling my name. Wow, I thought. Deja vu. Except that it wasn't. I'd passed out again. And this time I had a lap full of vomit. I felt like a character in a Ken Bruen novel.

A helpful airport guy who could almost speak English hurried over with a wheelchair and rushed me to the restroom, probably to get me out of the sight of the other passengers, who no doubt thought I was Jack Taylor.

I got myself cleaned up and came out (still in the wheelchair) to discover that the airport doctor was waiting for me. He gave me a prescription for some pills and a really nasty-tasting glucose drink. He also advised me not to fly to Cusco.

I told him that I felt fine (which was true) and that I was not staying in Lima. I had to sign a release saying that I was flying "against advice."

As it turned out, I was right. I was fine, and even the flight didn't bother me. By the next day I was completely recovered and ready to do some climbing in the ruins at Saqsaywaman. I figure that if you can clamber around on a mountain at an altitude about 14,000 feet, you're doing OK. I had not a touch of altitude sickness (or sorochi, as it's called). Judy, however, did. But that's another story.

As for Angela and her friends, none of them got sick at all. And Angela ate exactly the same meal that Judy and I had. Go figure.

Llamas!

In response to Jayme Blaschke's demand here's a llama shot. It doesn't include me, but it does feature the lovely Judy. And, as everyone knows, if Judy was there, someone (me) had to be taking the picture. Admittedly the llama is partially obscured by the colorful indios, but it's there, all right.

He's Back!

Bill Crider, intrepid Andean explorer, acclaimed author, and international bon vivant.

Pardon Me, Boys, Is That the Machu Picchu Choo-Choo?

Tomorrow, December 27, Judy and I will be boarding the Proud Bird with the Golden Tail (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) and flying off to Peru. We'll be in Lima for a couple of days, then go to Cusco. We'll celebrate New Year's Eve in Aguas Calientes, just down the mountain from Machu Picchu. Then it's back to Cusco and eventually to Nasca to see the Nasca Lines, which, as we all know, were carved by little guys in flying saucers many years ago. On January 5, we'll be landing at Houston's Intercontinental Airport if all goes well.

What this is leading up to is the fact that I won't be blogging until sometime after January 5. I'd like to thank all of you who have dropped by for a look and/or a comment in the past year, and I hope you won't forget me while I'm gone. I promise to post a photo or two when I return but I won't bore you with the whole long tale of the trip. If I get a chance I'll write that up and post it somewhere, maybe on the website. Or, breaking my promise, maybe here. I'll just have to see how it all works out. Have a happy new year's celebration, and check back here around January 6 or 7 for more blogging in 2005.

I'm Not Dreaming. It's a White Christmas.

This is the front of my house on Christmas morning. Nobody in Alvin, Texas, can remember the last white Christmas here. Maybe there's never been one. I've lived in Texas all my life, and this is the first white Christmas I can remember. I suppose we only care about things like that because of Irving Berlin and Bing Crosby, but it's still kind of neat.

The Legendary Star Wars Christmas Special

I'm Just Sayin': The Holy Grail of Crap

Via World o' Crap comes this link to the Star Wars Christmas Special, the one that George Lucas would like to pretend doesn't exist. Being an Old Guy, I saw it when it appeared on TV, never to be repeated. But someone's made a bootleg DVD, and you can see five minutes or so of it here. (Scroll down to the picture to click on.) It seems more like five hours, so you'll get your money's worth.

Martian Manhunter Need Not Apply

E! Online News - Martian Manhunter Need Not Apply

Sad. Maybe the holiday spirit will overwhelm some "hot, young filmmaker."

Joy to the World . . .

. . . All the boys and girls.

As you can tell, the blog and I are filled with goodwill, cheer, and egg nog. We'd like to wish everyone the best of holidays and a 2005 filled with peace, prosperity, and good reading.

"Thought Experiments" by Roger Ebert

"Thought Experiments" by Roger Ebert

I got this link in an e-mail from Cap'n Bob Napier, who got it in turn through others: "(Craig Miller mentioned this on the Timebinders mailing list and indicated that Jeff Copeland pointed it out to him.) --D Gary Grady." Naturally I had to put it in the blog. It's possibly the best article I've read on fandom, and it mentions some names that should be familiar to everybody (Ed Gorman, especially). Wonderful, nostalgic stuff. My eyes got misty reading it. And if there are a few things Ebert gets wrong or misremembers, so what? It's still a great piece.

Update: Art Scott informs me that this piece was originally published as the "Introduction" to Dick Lupoff's The Best of Xero (Tachyon Press), which I should already own. I don't, so I'd better see what I can do about that.

Sci-Fi Lists - Top Science Fiction Books and Films

Sci-Fi Lists - Top Science Fiction Books and Films

I like lists, if only because it's fun to nitpick them. So I found this an interesting site, and I also enjoyed the related site on fantasy.

$39 Million Bank Robbery

My Way News

BELFAST, Northern Ireland (AP) - In one of the world's biggest robberies, thieves took the families of two top bankers hostage and forced the bosses to help them steal more than $39 million from the vaults of a Belfast bank's main office, authorities said Tuesday.

It was either the IRA or a guy named Parker. Probably not Dortmunder, though.

Mystery Martian cleans US space buggy

Mystery Martian cleans US space buggy. 22/12/2004. ABC News Online

An unexplained phenomenon akin to a space-borne car wash has boosted the performance of one of the two US rovers probing the surface of Mars, New Scientist magazine said.

It said something - or someone - had regularly cleaned layers of dust from the solar panels of the Mars Opportunity vehicle while it was closed down during the Martian night.

The cleaning had boosted the panels' power output close to their maximum 900 watt-hours per day after at one stage dropping to 500 watt-hours because of the heavy Martian dirt.

By contrast, the power output of the solar panels of Mars Spirit - on a different part of the Red Planet - had dropped to just 400 watt-hours a day, clogged by the heavy dust.

"These exciting and unexplained cleaning events have kept Opportunity in really great shape," the magazine quoted NASA rover team leader Jim Erickson as saying.

OK, this is weird. Sounds like a great premise for an SF story.

A Little Self Promotion

Jon Breen, the intelligent and perceptive reviewer for Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, has this (among other things) to say about Dead Soldiers, my novel from Five Star (available in hardback and soon to be released in trade paperback): "It's an efficiently plotted and highly amusing male cozy. . . ."

So my comment is, "Male cozy"? Have I invented a new subgenre? Will my name go down in mystery history alongside those of Hammett and Chandler and, well, let's not be riduculous.

Jon also mentions Boss Napier, who plays a very minor part in the story and should not be confused with any persons living or dead because any resemblance is purely coincidental.

Interview!

On December 15, Sarah Weinman wrote this on her blog: "Writers interviewing writers is the new black, but that doesn't mean that new entries aren't welcome."

So ever since, I've been waiting for someone to interview me. And waiting. And waiting. Now I'm beginning to think nobody wants to interview me. So I guess I'll have to do it myself. Herewith, the Interview:

The Blog: When did you decide you wanted to become a writer?

Me: I've always wanted to write. In fact, I wrote my first novel at the age of five, a hardboiled tale of violence and revenge called The Velveteen Rabbit Takes Names and Kicks Ass. It would have been a blockbuster, but all the major publishers rejected it. "We don't do fanfic" was the typical turn-down.

The Blog: But you didn't give up.

Me: Oh, no. I went on to write Nancy Drew to an Inside Straight, a boldly sexual tale of Nancy and Ned and a red-hot strip poker game in which Nancy's best friend, the ambigously named "George," is also involved. Naturally the cowardly big-time publishing establishment turned that one down, too. "Fanfic is not acceptable," they said, "much less erotic fanfic."

The Blog: That must have been discouraging.

Me: You bet it was. I almost didn't write Aunt Gertrude Does Detroit. Frank and Joe Hardy are shocked to discover that their aunt is moonlighting as a pole dancer in a seedy dive, where she does a little diving of her own, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

The Blog: Yes. I do. Maybe. And let me guess: fanfic.

Me: Too true. But . . . .

The Blog: I'm sorry, but we've run out of time. Thanks for being our interview subject.

Me (tugging my forelock and digging my toe into the rug): No. . . thank you. Thank you very much.

A Hardluck Writer

A Hardluck Writer

Dave Zeltserman, author of the excellent Fast Lane, has started a blog. Fast Lane was published by a small press, and now Dave is on the verge of getting his new book, Outsourced, bought by a major house. Or so he hopes. He's going to chronicle his experiences in the blog, and it should be interesting reading.

And Whom Would You Add to the List

2004 Ethnic Cleansing Awards

What we have here is Bobfromaccounting's list of the 25 most annoying newsmakers of the past year. Hard to argue with these choices.

Disregard Earlier Posts: THIS is the End of Civilization as We Know It

New York Post Online Edition: business

"Bankrolled by the deep pockets of entertainment mogul Bob Sillerman, the estate of the late King is planning a global rollout of Presley-mania — from Elvis theme parks in Germany to lavish casinos in Asia where the singer's hologram will perform around the clock.

Sillerman, who made a fortune building the world's biggest entertainment touring outfit, bought all the rights to Presley's name and likeness, as well as his music, for more than $100 million.

The late entertainer's daughter, Lisa Marie Presley, said she sold the assets to give her family a secure future and expand her father's legacy to the entire world."

Maybe Lisa Marie is really Col. Parker's kid.

Researchers Find Clues to 'Pack-Rat' Urge

Researchers Find Clues to 'Pack-Rat' Urge: "Dec. 17, 2004 -- Attention, pack rats: science may have figured you out. Researchers say they've found an area of the brain that seems to govern the urge to collect.

Well, now I know what's wrong with me. "Damage to a part of the frontal lobes of the [brain's] cortex, particularly on the right side . . . ." You can click the line for further details.

The cover of Heart of the Hunter is no doubt familiar to anyone who attended the recent Bouchercon in Toronto. It was a freebie in all the book bags, and it seemed that many people were trying to get rid of it by putting it out on the "trade" table. Maybe they just didn't want to lug a hardback home. If they didn't read it, they were the losers, because it's very good.

It was originally written in Afrikaans and was translated by K. L. Seegers, who's done a fine job. I don't know what I was expecting exactly, but what I got was an espionage novel of the "every time I try to get out, they drag me back in" variety. Or of the "retired gunslinger can't quite hang 'em up" variety. But with a difference. The South African setting, for one thing. And while there's plenty of action, the book seems more influenced by John Le Carre than Ian Fleming. The big confrontation that I kept expecting never happened. Or rather it did happen, but not at all in the way I thought it would. There's also some violence, but it's mostly off-stage. There are plenty of twists and turns. Nobody can be trusted, and nothing is what it seems to be.

I'm glad I brought this home to Texas from Canada, and if you have it on your shelves, pull it out and give it a try. I think you'll find it rewarding reading.