Read like nobody’s watching.

If fantasy books were music they would probably be jazz. Many of the people that like them often talk and act as if they know more about writing / playing that other mere mortals, and assume readers / listeners of other styles simply cannot grasp with their limited intellect what the converted know instinctively. At the same time they will not consider listening to / reading any other genre, knowing without doubt it won't be worth the effort. Everyone else knows it's mostly shit and a bit of an embarrassing genre, that maybe you have a fling with at one time in your life and hopefully move on from. Having said that, occasionally there is an example of the genre, a piece written / performed by a writer / player of such dazzling talent, that it deserves to transcend the genre and if those who write it off were to give it a chance the complexity, intricacy and scale of the piece would simply blow their minds.

My favourite book, even after all these years, is still probably To Kill a Mockingbird, even though I haven't read it in donkey's years, but beyond that it's more likely to be Lord of the Rings or Dune. I try to be as eclectic as possible, but like an old schoolfriend that never changes, I often find myself coming back to the genres of the geeks and social lepers. Why? Not sure. Maybe it's easier to get lost in a story if it's further removed from reality. Maybe the escapism is what's important. It's one thing to tackle themes, characterisation and organic plot developments within a real world that everybody knows intimately; it's quite another to conceive of, imagine, develop and design that world from scratch within the confines of your own head (or in the case of sci-fi sometimes many different worlds) and to describe events barely on the fringe of tangible understanding (hello, Peter F. Hamilton) while still being able to make the reader connect on an emotional level.

In this respect, I think writers of crime thrillers and romantic guff have it easier here. The world-building is already done. There's a fairly recently-arrived-in-the-UK writer, goes by the name Brandon Sanderson, who is open and honest about the difficulties involved in crafting a fully realised fantasy series like no other writer I know. He's the guy who's taken over finishing the Wheel of Time series following the death of creator Robert Jordan. It is Sanderson's own Mistborn trilogy, however, that really shows what's involved. It took something approaching nearly 30 drafts of the series before he considered it complete. Years of refining the plot, the characters, the magic system (something else the fantasy writer has to develop which is unique to the genre, and bastard hard to get right, if Sanderson's notes are anything to go by), the world, the politics and countless other elements. On his website there is a chapter by chapter commentary, and he'll share early drafts of the series with anyone who asks, as well as giving updates on current projects. The work paid off. While, admittedly, most efforts in the genre are, well, shite, Mistborn is remarkable, pulling together themes of religion and atheism, morality, redemption, corruption and a boatload of other stuff, with startling action, possible only with the help of a genius magic system. A series that deserves to be read even by people who have long since moved on from that fantasy bollocks.

Everyone’s a critic.

Films, eh? Don't you just love 'em? No? Well, I do. Not that I'm saying cinema is my life, or anything, but watching movies is one of my absolute favourite things to do. Always has been, since I was a little kid watching H. G. Wells' The Time Machine or The War of the Worlds over and over. Doesn't matter what kind, what genre (apart from possibly horror - too scary, you see), even whether I like it or not. It's an art form. It is. It's a strange one, because there's so much shite produced just to make money, but in its purest form it is storytelling, and there most definitely is an art to telling good stories, whether it's by firelight, by book, or by film. It's not considered art in the same way painting or writing music is, but that's because it's a much more recent form of expression - it's barely over 100 years old (film that is, not storytelling, obviously).

If you've read enough of these blog entries, you'll know by now what kind of person I am - I like to give the impression that I'm knowledgeable, but in truth I know just enough to show off to people who know even less than me - true experts will and do see right through me. Well, the same goes for films; I talk like I know my stuff, but there's about a million and one films out there that I still need to see.

I thought it might be a good idea to chart my filmic journey and write down my thoughts and impressions of the films I watch. Rach and I have a bit of a tradition on Saturdays, where we settle down and stick a film on, partly because our kids prevent us from going out, and partly because we are really quite boring people. Anyway, I've started a blog about it (look at me, Mr. Big with my two blogs) here: http://experiment627movies.blogspot.com. Feel free to comment, discuss, disagree, shout abuse or laugh at me for my views.

I thought it would be cool to have both me and Rach do a review, but as much as she loves films, she doesn't quite get into them like me - she's more normal, so as she's contributing to this more as an indulgence to me, her writing will usually be brief in comparison to mine.

Be warned: the reviews are not recommendations, and the assumption is you have already seen the film being reviewed - there will ALWAYS be spoilers.

Goodbye old friend, you’ll not be missed.

It turns out that this year a certain entertainment retailer is planning to close several of its stores. For some reason, I can't quite find it within myself to be sad for that, and the reason for that is that generally, my local store is pants. And the online version is mega pants. Perhaps if it was less pants, I might have been able to summon up a little more care.

The last time I was in the store, I bought a music DVD. When I got it home, it turned out that Rach had already got it for me from Amazon. The special edition, no less. It's unopened, with receipt, so I assume they'll be no problem getting a refund on it. I used to work for said retailer, and I know that big releases like this one would be on 'sale or return', meaning they can return any they don't sell to the supplier for a full refund.

But no; the Saturday kid, who looks like she must be about 12, tells me uninterestedly that it's not their policy to offer refunds unless the item is damaged or faulty. I can exchange it or get vouchers, but that's it. But, it's perfectly re-sellable, I have the receipt, there's nothing wrong with it. In the words of The Dude, no-one's trying to scam anyone here, man. "Sorry, it's not our policy" repeats the dead-eyed bitch behind the counter over and over, like a robot with a damaged subroutine. It seems odd that disrespect and terrible customer service should be a policy, but maybe that's one reason they are closing stores this year. I turn down the vouchers and exchange it for a couple of things I don't really want, because I don't want to go back and buy anything else from the pricks ever again. Congratulations Amazon, you will now be selling me all of my DVDs, Blu-Rays and CDs from now on.

I don't know if my local store is on the death list, but apart from the sad fact that some people I still count as friends will lose their jobs (the annoying brat who 'served' me is strangely not included on that list), I wouldn't be sorry to see it go.

An automotive conspiracy.

A certain nameless car fixing place (can you tell from the jargon that I know less than nothing about fixing or maintaining cars?) has me doubting the honesty of their employees. A few months back, our car developed an annoying squeak which seemed to be coming from the front on the driver's side. We took the car to the fixing place, where after a little while, they admitted they didn't know what was wrong. They put some grease on a few bits to try to help, but didn't charge for it. We go on with the annoying squeak.

Not long after, the exhaust gets noisy and the acceleration has lost a little of its 'oomph'. Back we go to the car fixers. It turns out that two big chunks of the exhaust need replacing. It'll cost over £250. Now, a mind more cynical than mine might think that a little dodgy, to have a previously working car go kaput shortly following the first visit that happened to not cost anything. It's not outside the realms of possibility that the problem might have been set up during that first visit. Still, it was paid, it was fixed, and on we went.

Just before Christmas the car starts to make a noise more like a motorcycle. A little pissed off, we head back to the car fixers, thinking they might have messed up the job last time. Apparently, it's the other bit of the exhaust they didn't replace last time. That they in fact gave a green light to last time. That'll be another £200 plus, cheers. This seems decidedly off. But what do I know about fixing cars or what might go wrong with them? Cock all, that's what. They fix it, again. As a parting gift, they let us know that they haven't fixed the noise, but it can be sorted easily with a bit of duct tape. If we bring some in they'll do it, no charge. Considering what happened the last time they had a look at a noise for no charge (a noise which was never fixed), I don't think I'll bother.

So it may be my lack of knowledge here, but there seems to be a distinct possibility they're swindling cunts. Guess I'll never know.