MONDOmagazine

By Amy Borkwood

*Note: photo credits appear as a mouse over*

Toronto Craft Alert is a volunteer-run blog which acts as an essential resource for all Toronto-based crafters. It spreads information about upcoming craft shows, gives details on where to find supplies or attend a workshop, and allows for discussion amongst the city’s craft-folk. The TCA was started in February 2006 by Jen Anisef, a Toronto-based craft-maker and enthusiast, with its goal being “to galvanize the city’s craft community”. Jen also recently opened up an online, Canadian-focused craft and design shop, goodEGG industries. The site is a collaborative effort between Jen and Laural Raine. I interviewed Jen to find out more about the TCA, and also to look for more ways in which new crafters can become involved in the diverse community of craft in Toronto.

MONDO: First off, can you tell me a little about why you started Toronto Craft Alert, and what you wanted it to be at the very beginning?

Jen Anisef: I started the Toronto Craft Alert on a whim. After having been asked a few times where I find out about craft fairs and finding that I had no good answer to this question, I emailed the few crafty types I knew in Toronto about starting an email list to share information about craft fairs and any other craft-related stuff happening around town. I asked them to spread the word to craft-engaged friends so we could get a bit of a network going. I threw up a blog just for fun, thinking of it as a secondary info-sharing space where we could post pretty pictures (plus I had always secretly wanted a blog, and this was a great excuse). So I guess my initial intention was to bridge a gap in information flow amongst Toronto crafters. I feel like this is still really central to what the TCA is about, but it has evolved so much beyond this point!

MONDO: What kind of feedback/response did you initially receive about the blog? Who was reading it, and who was taking part in the discussions?

JA: People were really enthusiastic about it — they felt it was something that Toronto was missing and were very supportive about the project. A number of people felt that the craft community was too segmented and could use a place to come together and were excited about the TCA in this sense.

My first email introducing the TCA went out to a handful of Toronto-based craft bloggers who were kind enough to post about the TCA on their own blogs, and for the first while they were the main people commenting and sending in tips. Some store owners were also quick to take advantage of the opportunity to promote their workshops and events. Word spread fast though, and individual crafters and craft artists came on board shortly thereafter.

MONDO: You attended the first Craft Congress last year in Pittsburgh. Can you tell me how you ended up attending the Congress, and what exactly happened there? Did you apply anything you learned from the Congress to your work with the TCA?

JA: To be honest, I’m not totally sure how I got hooked up to the Congress. I received a mysterious invite to their Yahoo group perhaps from a fellow Torontonian or the organizers may have found me through their extensive Google searching for craft-related initiatives. There were a handful of craft-engaged people from Toronto involved in the Yahoo group, and Leah (Reverend Mother of the Toronto Church of Craft), Becky (proprietress of the Sweetie Pie Press and founder of the Good Catch Craft Fair series in Parkdale), and I ended up organizing a road trip to the Congress.

To recount what went down at the Congress would take a book. But in brief, it brought together 50 craft “leaders” (mostly “indie” craft-fair organizers) from across North America and the UK to discuss best practices for craft-related organizing, as well as more general topics such as the evolution of the independent craft “movement” or crafts and political activism…

I would say there were two major things that I took away from the Congress that feeds into my current activities in craft:

1. An awareness of the diversity of craft cultures across geographies. Meeting people from Florida (where craft fairs happen in strip malls and crafters constantly have to explain why their items are more expensive than Walmart), and Austin (where the indie craft scene has been booming for years and years) opened my eyes to the fact that Toronto’s craftscape is unique. I hope to explore this more through the TCA and other craft ventures.

2. An alliance with Leah and Becky (previously just acquaintances) spawned City of Craft, a craft collective that aims to build community amongst crafters in Toronto, support independent craft businesses, and encourage the larger community to get involved with crafty happenings in the city. TCA is a partner in putting on all kinds of events through City of Craft, including a mega craft fair and craft-culture event in December.

MONDO: When I moved to Toronto I used the TCA as a reference guide to find resources, and upcoming sales, and to learn about local craftspeople. Are there any other resources that you’d suggest to individuals, either new to the city or new to the world of craft, who want to become involved in the craft community in Toronto?

JA: When I first started the TCA I relied heavily on arts mailing lists like Instant Coffee and Akimbo to find out about craft-related events and exhibitions. Though their focus is more art-art, there are definitely craft-related listings to be found. Toronto Street Fashion covers a lot of crafty territory, like designer profiles, indie craft shop reviews and some craft fair listings. It takes some scouring, but you can find lots of craft-con in NOW magazine, especially in the style section by Andrew Sardone. Likewise columnist Natalie-Roze Fischer is a fantastic supporter of local craft initiatives. Look for her as the Frugal Fashionista in Metro or the DIY Style columnist in the Toronto Star.

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If you are interested in a particular craft, find out if a related shop (e.g. knitting store, fabric/quilting shop) hosts a stitch ‘n bitch so that you can meet and learn from others in your community of interest. Taking classes at these shops or schools is another way to meet people or ease your way into the world of crafting. There are a bunch listed on the TCA under “Get Schooled”.

Steph Perkins is an organized thinker. In this week’s installment, she has literally been trusted with the life of another living being. Trust her advice.

Q:  Should my girlfriend and I get a dog? We’ve lived together in the city for about a year, have a good-sized apartment, and we’re financially sound. She really, really wants one, but I’m on the fence.

A:  Ungh. I am not a dog person. I grew up around dogs, but they were terriers, which are pretty much the nerds of the dog world, so they don’t count. Or maybe that’s the reason I’m not a dog person. Either way, I will do my best to give impartial advice here.

This is mainly a question of responsibility, hence the fence, I presume. You can’t just go out and grab a dog without assuming your way of life is going to change in some major ways.

Are you responsible? Is your girlfriend? Take a good hard look around your place and at your daily habits. You can’t put off walking a dog like you can put off watering that plant in the corner. If you love to: sleep in super late; take off to New York for the weekend on a whim; party your face off all night and wake up on someone’s floor; or put your own needs above everything else, all of this will have to change.

Don’t get a dog because you’re:

bored
lonely
trendy
scared your girlfriend will dump you if you don’t…

Are you two a good team? When you fight, is it over the remote, or over who’s pulling their weight? Because getting a dog would be an endeavour in co-operation for sure, all of your adorable new responsibilities should be shared in order to keep your little family unit running smoothly. Are you solid? I always wonder about unstable couples getting a pet — what are they attempting to band-aid? In a strong relationship though, getting a dog would be a mature step forward. You know, if you’re into that whole “planning for the future” kind of thing. If done properly, it would, in theory, bring you closer together and make you work even better as a team.

Do you love your stuff? Puppies seem to eat just about anything. Some cases are more extreme than others of course, but here’s a worst-case scenario: my friends’ dog has eaten the following over the last six months: entire rolls of toilet paper; eight pairs of Calvin Klein underwear; the ASS out of her bf’s boxer shorts; a credit card; a whole raw steak; a dvd remote; and $60 cash in poker winnings. If you get a dog, you may have to put away your nice things for a few months, but probably not before you learn that the hard way at least once.

Do you love picking up shit with your hands? Just sayin’.

But considering all this, if you’re up for the challenge, I say jump off the fence and go for it. Taking risks is good for the soul. Plus, it’s spring! Go to the dog park, toss some sticks or whatever, and have fun. I’ll cheers you while I’m sipping cocktails on the Riviera, free as a bird. Just kidding. …Kinda.

Howdy, boys and girls!

I’m trying to keep the silence from my end to a minimum, but it’s hard, you know — being stuck in a tent and working ten hours a day and not remembering what a computer looks like and all. Also, there is a surprising lack of record stores in Quesnel, BC. Go figure.

But, I thought of something the other day which I would like to share with you. I use a lot of not-really-acceptable terminology in my reviews, and while it would probably be simpler to just learn to express myself in conventional ways, well, no. Instead, I think we’ll just have to invent some new terms. Enter The Pseudo-Term. Today’s Pseudo-Term:

Post-Project : Derived from “side project,” the term refers to musical endeavours that get created after a band breaks up. For example, Dean and Britta is a Luna post-project. Post-project may be used specifically to refer to endeavours that fail to achieve the same critical success as their predecessors, e.g. Sparta, the other post-project of At The Drive-In.

Yay! This means from now on I can write things like “Shooting at Unarmed Men, a post-project of McLusky, maintains all the vitriol of its predecessor, but seems to lack the basic energy that made their sound so effective” and none of you will look at me weirdly. Right?

Allana Mayer
Music Editor

Prince Caspian
Directed by Andrew Adamson
Disney, 2008

By Madeleine Sims-Fewer

In his father’s usurped Telmarinian castle, young Caspian is woken in the dead of night by his tutor. This is not an unusual occurrence, since Caspian is used to studying the stars with suspiciously dwarf-like Cornelius, however tonight is a different story; Caspian’s aunt has given birth to a son, and he is in danger of being executed by his own people. Thus begins the C.S. Lewis’ book, Prince Caspian, and the film version faithfully follows suit.

Back in London, we get re-acquainted with the Pevensie children, who are unsatisfied with the plebeian life they now lead; Susan has become solitary, and without swords in their hands, Peter and Edmund are often getting into fistfights —and losing. But of course, they are called back into Narnia. As soon as they arrive, they slay a soldier, bringing back the old excitement of Narnia, where they can simply kill their enemies!

Despite remaining relatively faithful to the book, Prince Caspian loses some of the magical flair seen in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, possibly because of the non-magical human enemies — cleverly shown as being Spanish, compared to their resemblance to Villainous Shakespearian Moors in the novel.

Here’s another difference between the written and filmic versions of this story: in the book, Prince Caspian is young, wide-eyed, and a bit of a dreamer, but none of this comes across in Ben Barnes’ interpretation of the character. Instead, Barnes’ prince is a suave, muscular teenager, foolhardy, and not the least bit interested in the Narnians before he stumbles across them. This was my main problem with the film. Caspian, with whom the audience should grow and learn, doesn’t do much growing. He seemed to stand merely as a heartthrob, placed there for the viewing pleasure of the few fifteen-year-old girls who take their younger siblings to the film. However, the fabulous acting from the four Pevensie children makes up for it, as we are again drawn into their fantasy with every lingering close-up.

Narnia is perfectly imagined, with lush foliage and idyllic beaches. If you imagined something different when reading the book, you will gladly let the director’s vision take its place. The cinematography can be a little on the distracting side, with it’s grandiose swooping and dollying without remorse, and a few shots are suspiciously soft. It seemed like the director did everything he could to pull us out of the story. Luckily, the tale is so captivating that we cannot help but be invested, especially when the battle scenes begin. Expertly choreographed, and tight with suspense, we are right there with Edmond as he soars in on a hippogriff, slays an unsuspecting soldier, and sends a Morse-coded message to the Narnian army with his flashlight.

The minotaur, centaurs, and talking animals are all expertly animated into being, and it’s a welcome relief if you ever happened to see the old television show of the same title. Instead of being suspiciously weightless, which so many computerized characters can appear, they have a solid presence, which adds to the magic.

Of course, the old Christian philosophy holds strong even in this Disney-styled version, and each child learns the lesson that the nonbelievers suffer punishment, while those who always had faith in Jesus — sorry, I mean Aslan — will reign triumphant. This does nothing to dampen the film’s spirit, and I’m sure children will fail to notice, as indeed I did when first reading the saga.

I found Prince Caspian to be a delightful adaptation, thoroughly entertaining, and though I felt a little old sitting in a cinema packed with six to eleven year-olds, it could no doubt become the Princess Bride for a new generation.

The Alpha Review

By Andrew Uys

I’ve heard that trade paperbacks — a run of comic issues collected into a graphic novel — are all the rage today. But which ones are worth your time? This column aims to put the spotlight on the spectacular trades— at least according to this writer. And just for fun, we will start with the letter “A,” and each subsequent review will follow with the next letter of the alphabet. While you might object to my taste or my opinion, I hope that this column will help save you time and money when you are next buying a trade paperback, as well as effort in alphabetizing.

I is for Infinite Crisis
Written by Geoff Johns
Art by Phil Jimenez, George Perez, Jerry Ordway, and Ivan Reis
DC, 2005/06

The big event for DC this summer is Final Crisis, which wraps up the storyline started in Infinite Crisis and can trace its roots to Crisis on Infinite Earths from the 80s. Infinite Crisis consists of a seven-part series, which, in turn, launched the weekly 52 series and the recently-completed Countdown to Infinite Crisis. To understand this TPB, we need to look back to Crisis on Infinite Earths, DC’s attempt in 1985 to improve their universe’s continuity.

Early in the Silver Age, DC introduced the idea that there were separate earths or realities for each of their major teams, the Justice Society and Justice League of America. The number of these worlds increased as more companies were bought out by DC and their characters incorporated into DC’s mythos. There was a complex numbering system used to delineate each reality, and the characters started to jump between worlds, teaming up with their alternate earth counterparts. As readership fell in the 80s, DC sought to resolve the problems of continuity and character relationships with a massive crossover event that would hopefully draw in new readers and satisfy long-term fan concerns. So, during the course of Crisis on Infinite Earths, the different realities were destroyed and merged to create a single Earth where the main heroes existed together with a shared history. Most of the company’s main titles were rebooted, and for many of us this was the DC universe with which we grew up. However, small problems still existed, and, over the course of two decades, more have emerged.

Enter Infinite Crisis.

Infinite Crisis, which followed the same format as Crisis on Infinite Earths, had events which played out through all of DC’s titles. Through it, DC sought to meaningfully rewrite Crisis on Infinite Earths, rather than changing it into a simple retcon (retroactive continuity). The series has since become a classic and set into motion a larger story that will see its third act played out in Final Crisis.

Before Infinite Crisis, DC published Identity Crisis, a smaller and arguably better-written series that fractured relationships between the heroes of DC and began stories that would lead into this collection. In a previous review, I discussed Marvel’s House of M and why I didn’t like the crossover/mega-event; the movement from Identity Crisis to Infinite Crisis is how a cross-title, reality-shattering and continuity-altering storyline should be done. After the events in Identity Crisis, which I also recommend you pick up, there came The OMAC Project, Rann-Thanagar War, Day of Vengeance, and Villains United. Each one explored a certain aspect of the DC universe and neatly expanded on some of its subplots; however, they are often less explored. All of these storylines set the tone and structure for the “world” as the Infinite Crisis began with the return of Earth-2 Superman and Earth-Prime Superboy.

Confused?

These were characters who had acted valiantly to save the universe during the Crisis on Infinite Earths, and who then headed off to their reward, a peaceful, heaven-like limbo. Apparently though, they had been watching the DC universe and had grown dissatisfied with the moral ambiguity and fractured relationships of our heroes. Their end goal was to shape a new, perfect earth where the horrors inflicted on and caused by our heroes had never happened. This plan required the reemergence of the multiple earths, and soon our heroes were fighting a war on many fronts, as set up by the mini-series leading into this mega-event. Again, heroes fell, loose ends were tied up, and at the end of the story there was one world with a slightly altered history. In sum, a retcon was created without just saying, “It’s all different now.” This is where weekly series such as 52 and Countdown come into the picture, and while I cannot go into them in great detail, it is suffice to say that all is not what it seems at the end of Infinite Crisis.

Infinite Crisis is a fantastic read that can be read apart from all the crossover titles that it impacted. If you are trying to follow DC’s big event this summer, it is required reading. The story contains most of the major characters from DC, and a few of the characters who died during the story remain dead today! The writing and art are superb and remarkably consistent considering the number of contributing illustrators. Much of what has happened in the DC universe in the last two years stems from this storyline. Though a little dense and confusing at times, it is a fun read that contains real and lasting changes both to the characters and to the world that they inhabit.

By Heather Loney

If there is one thing I know, it is this: time is a tickin’.  That every episode of Seinfeld watched equals thirty minutes closer to the end, la fin, the Big Nothing.  So, with this thought in mind, I did a little research in order to maximize my time while I still have it.

And where better to look for practical solutions in ingenuity and efficiency than late-night cable television?  Remarkably, I did not have to search long, because promptly on channel 6 at 4:02am appeared my savior —The Magic Bullet.  According to this eye-opening program, I have been wasting my life like a sap by chopping tomatoes and onions with a knife!  When I could have been preparing tasty snacks for all my friends in only 15 seconds!  Delicious iced beverages in 20 seconds!  A Thanksgiving roast in only 30 seconds!  Huzzah!  By the end of the program, I vowed to never again make anything that takes longer than 30 seconds to prepare, heat, and serve.  Anything more, and I’d be a sucker.

What golden little nuggets of knowledge (“knowledge nuggets” I like to call them) can be found on late-night television.  If I’m processing this knowledge nugget correctly, the key to happiness seems to be to do everything super, super fast.  Why stop to smell the roses when you could whiz by them in a super sweet SUV, snacking on some tasty guacamole that you made on the passenger seat in only 15 seconds with your handy Magic Bullet?

I leave the living room, and scan my kitchen counter: toaster — lame.  Totally lame.  It only has one function, ‘make boring toast’, and it takes almost a full minute to do it.  Rice cooker — you know what?  Screw you, rice cooker; all you ever do is make me rice, and I have to wait 50 minutes for it.

I think I’m finally starting to understand Sartre’s theory of negative existence.  The void created by the lack of Magic Bullet on my counter is tangible; unbeknownst to the outside eye, its negative existence (and my inadequacy as a hostess) is all I can think about. I must act fast.  Only 18 minutes remain until my savior, M.B., is taken off the air, and out of my life forever…or at least until tomorrow at 4:02am.

By Sarah Redbird

I had heard rumors of Český Krumlov — the quiet, southern Bohemia UNESCO heritage site situated along the Vltava River, which cradles the State Castle or Chateau Complex. I had heard it was best showcased in the fall, when the foliage of the surrounding hills frame the medieval architecture of the town centre. I had also heard that the chill imposed by the icy nature of late-September Prague was well remedied there. Having been given reprieve from my sojourn as a student at the Prague University of Economics on the mid-fall long weekend, I ventured out of my temporary home in the Czech metropolis and headed south for the hills.

After traversing Hlavní Nádraží — the traveling epicenter of Central Europe — I departed with my $10 CDN round-trip train ticket on a comfortable and semi-crowded coach class car. To the right lay hallways with windows opening to chest height, perfect for resting your arms and breathing in the country air while stretching your legs on the five-hour journey. The traveling time was inconsequential as the poignancy of some adage played on repeat in my head: “it’s all in the journey, not the destination.” Opposite to the hallway were the individual seating cars, capacity eight. In perfect early-twenties-Eastern-European-brood height rested a picture window encouraging one to gaze at the countryside as the train dipped and rose in its wake. Cottages dotted the landscape and families flew by, tilling their small plots of land. The layout of the train was one that paid respect to the many incarnations of the traveler: dreamer, gazer, stroller, sleeper.

Once in Český Krumlov, I fumbled downhill towards town. As if to test my worthiness of this retreat, a wooded area with a menacingly steep and rickety staircase seemed to be the sole bypass into town. The downward climb was daunting, but the view piqued my curiosity. The centre of Český Krumlov sat in front of me like a medieval snow globe stuck in time.

The descent ended at a cobblestone bridge leading me under a tower and into the town. My boldness in not booking accommodations ahead of time was quickly rewarded when directly to my left I spotted Hostel 99. Its owners were absent and the atmosphere was relaxed. Travelers and vagabonds alike lazily filtered into view and brought us through the motions of checking in. I remain unclear of who was working and who was simply filling in. In any case, a sense of community was established. I paid $10 for one night and dropped my backpack in a six-bed loft where I could almost smell the animals of stables past. Almost.

The draw of Český Krumlov is the castle, and, being a traveler, I was drawn.  There was a bridge to take you from the remainder of the town into the Chateau Complex. Wasting no time with spectacle, a bear living below the bridge drew gawkers climbing the brief ascent into the Complex, itself teeming with cafés, restaurants, stores, and an art gallery offering free admission.

After a few hours of touring, my belly full of local beer and my hands heavy with purchases of Dvořák CDs and postcards laden with the work of Holan, Kotík, and Holy, I headed back to the hostel to meet the other travelers with whom I would be spending the night.

I dined with Fred, a professional traveler from Norway, who made his home in the tower above my entry point and adjacent to the hostel. The potato pancakes and slow-roasted chicken we ate at the riverside restaurant forgave the slow service and hapless waitress. This dining location was Fred’s choice, after the underground candlelit restaurant on the other side of town appeared too crowded.

Later, we shared drinks at the Snake Bar with some travelers from Australia. “I just caught the bug,” one tells me in reference to a six-month journey that’s lead her from Asia to central Europe. A few beers, a shot of absinthe, and the caroling of various national anthems later, I headed back to the hostel. As we entered our room, an Englishman stirred in his bed and politely grumbled, “Do you know where I might find the loo?” Downstairs in the courtyard, a group of people resembling a United Nations meeting gathered by the fire. They had all begun their journeys in various locations, but found themselves in Český Krumlov as friends and storytellers. With the fire warming my face, I was reminded of a sentiment shared by my radical liberal Texan friend back in Prague, “Home is everywhere”. At that moment though, home was Český Krumlov.

Indiana Jones and the Belated Sequel

By Shane McNeil

I’m going to preface this by saying that I am 95% certain that I will go see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull when it comes out. That having been said, is this film really necessary?

I was discussing it with a friend whilst watching Temple of Doom the other night and while they were intrigued because of how good the previous Indy movies were, the cons seem to largely outweigh the pros.

Most of my generation grew up with the Indy trilogy, so it’s pretty irresistible to see our hero back in action. But the Indy we saw was processed through eleven-year-old, easily-impressed goggles. The moments of attempted comedy and the necessity for suspension of disbelief are a much bigger ask from the now-adult children of the 70s and 80s than it was when last we saw Dr. Jones in 1989.

We’re all excited that Harrison Ford is doing credible work, because in recent years he’s been either AWOL or an angry guy who wants his family, life, or airplane back. This has the potential to be Harrison’s first great performance since The Fugitive. But do we have to buy an Indiana Jones who may be more concerned with a sciatic nerve than he is with saving history in order to enjoy it?

Then there’s the franchise itself. I dare anyone to name me a franchise that took this much time off and came back great. No one will go to that length to defend The Godfather 3 so don’t start, and even that was only 16 years versus the 18 Indy’s taken off. It’s just been too long to be making this movie now without it looking like a shameless cash-grab. We fell for it with the Star Wars prequels, and do Lucas and Spielberg think we’re stupid enough to fall for it again? They do, and we are.

People are excited. “Why’s he back in the Nazi warehouse from Raiders?” My thoughts exactly. We last saw it in 1981, certainly it’s been destroyed for condos or an extension for the Autobahn by now. What are you doing there, Henry?

The fact remains, as I said, that I will go see it. Why? Because I have to see the disappointment for myself. It’s tough to resist and barring some unanimously horrid reviews, most people will go for the simple appeal of being able to make up their own minds. It’ll make decent coin at the box office but it won’t be the summer’s big draw (that’s likely Iron Man) and it’ll be far from a re-invention (that’ll likely be Heath Ledger’s return from beyond in Dark Night). Instead it will probably go down in the annals with Batman & Robin, Alien: Resurrection, and other fourth sequels that basically torched the legacy of their predecessors because they couldn’t resist going to the well just once more.

I’d say the upside is that we should’t expect number five, but considering Indy himself is eligible for a pension before the fourth even hits screens, little could truly surprise me from this lot.

Glorytellers
Glorytellers
Southern, 2008

By Allana Mayer

I’ve always liked the way syllables just seem to bubble up out of singer/guitarist Geoff Farina, in his lilting balladeer style, with an easy grace. I’m always startled when things actually rhyme. With Glorytellers, his new vehicle for self-aggrandizement, there’s a clarity he never had before (in a seriously accomplished history, most notably in Karate). Rather than getting more weary and gravelly, as one would expect to correlate with the passage of time, the shouty, heartbroken element of his voice is gone. What effected that change — vocal lessons? Sobriety? Took up Buddhism? The rasp and not-quite-on-beat-ness were endearing, to be sure, but it somehow didn’t fit the music, and often lent itself to preciousness and cheese.

The difference between Karate’s best days and Gloryteller’s new formula is apparent: Farina has traded up his jazzy electrics for stark and minimal acoustics — which is good, because you get the feeling he was getting jealous of all the airtime those glitzy solo riffs were taking away from his too-cool voice. Karate’s uneasy truce between his opposing talents has tipped into a much more palatable balance.

Farina kind of sounds like an asshole, you know? He’s a know-it-all, not because he’s old and grizzled and has been through it, but because he was that cynical kid at the back of the class spouting off about existentialism while everyone else was doing quadratic equations. Luckily, he sublimated it into creativity, i.e. someone handed him a guitar and told him to go sit in the corner.

So, with all that postulation in mind, the album: opener “Camoflauge” is easy to digest, gorgeous, and lilting. “Anonymous” has the healthiest rhythm on the album, with an endless stream of words packed into just two and a half minutes. “Awake at the Wheel” has similar energy, but expresses it smoothly, almost seductively. Both “Blood on the Shine” and “Pry” display a gentle tenderness that echoes “With Age,” which is arguably Karate’s best song. The lesser hits dispersed between these highlights blend freely and make Glorytellers a breezy listening experience, one you’d stare out a window and pensively chew your pencil to. Sensitive without trying to break your heart, and gentle without mollycoddling, the balance is perfect this time around.

Miles’ Book

Hawaiian Dick #4
Written by B. Clay Moore
Pencilled and inked by Scott Chantler
Colours (and back-up story) by Steven Griffin
Image Comics, 2008

Tropical locations, crime, ghosts, possible zombies, AND great art? I’m there.

The only thing I knew about Hawaiian Dick was that it nominated for an Eisner and now that I’ve read it I know I’m going to go buy everything that came before it. I need to know more about the lead up to this series. Not because I couldn’t follow the plot or anything like that, but because there are so many great little character moments that I know there must be hundreds of them that came before this — and I want to know them all.

Set in 1954, Hawaiian Dick is about a private investigator named Byrd and the colourful characters he’s surrounded himself with. He doesn’t do a lot of sleuthing or getting paid for sleuthing in this story; mostly he’s trying to figure out what to do with the ghost of a Japanese fighter pilot with the help of his friends. I guess that makes it sound like Scooby Doo, for better or for worse.

Scott Chantler’s pencils are amazin’, but his inks are really making this book work. He’s able to get a lot darker than he did on his black-and-white series Northwest Passage because this book is in colour, as funny as that might sound. There he had only white to balance out the black, here he gets a host of other colours and they are working overtime to make this book pop.

The plot was a little dense to take in, considering I’m entering out of context, but I’m assuming if I knew what was going on I’d be further on the edge of my computer chair. Regardless, the characters seem to be really interesting, and this short taste makes me want to go back and learn more about them.

The back-up story was also good and made me like two characters I didn’t get a lot from in the main story. Great package, great comic.

Isaac’s Book

Catwoman #79
Written by Will Pfeifer
Penciled by David Lopez
Inked by Alvaro Lopez
DC Comics, 2008
 
Though I don’t normally collect Catwoman, for some reason I have the basic knowledge of what’s been going on with her for the past while, mostly that she had been shunted off to the prison planet where the Salvation Run comic series took place.

This issue, titled “The Long Road Home Part 2″ is obviously her return to Gotham, and serves as a good jumping on point to the series: readily catching everyone up on where she’s been, what had happened to her, and her motivations for the future.

The first person she contacts is Slam Bradley, her classic gumshoe style detective of a friend, who is actually in the process of a beating by some Multiple Man rip. His name is Repro, and that fact took way too long to figure out — I just had to go back and forth in the issue to see if any reference was made to his name. That’s the kind of problem you run into when you have to have such a generic guy as the villain of the piece. I know it’s all kind of part of the comic process, starting your hero off with a lower level character to face off with, building up the “real” villain for that final showdown. But this guy was pretty lame. It would have been very satisfying however, if Slam got it together and took this guy out himself.

There is an interesting idea touched on here where Catwoman had seen Batman using some of his Batman Begins-style fear tactics, and, while surprised at it, also learned a trick or two about manipulation.

I like the idea that there is a side of Batman that Catwoman could be surprised by. We audience guys are used to seeing Batman be a little off when he faces Catwoman: he’s always been just a little less cunning, a little slower when facing her. It’s interesting to see Catwoman’s response to a Batman going all out. Even though the example we’re given of an “all-out” Batman is like a watered down version of Michael Keaton’s scene with the Joker, but from the back. (“You wanna get NUTS!? Come on. Let’s get nuts.” You really have to see that to appreciate it.)

For the most part, really good art. There are a couple of blank backgrounds that I don’t like. A couple of lines for drama or something and it would be cool, but just totally blank leaves me cold. Of course the design for Repro is weak, with his red suit with the single white stripe through the middle — he looks like Guardian if he could split into multiple copies of himself.

Guardian is the Canadian flag draped leader of Alpha Flight over at Marvel Comics. Just in case you didn’t know to whom I was referring.

Durham County is a six-part series airing on Global Television Monday nights at 10 p.m. 

By Leo K. Moncel

I have never been so excited about feeling miserable as I am now, moments after watching the first episode of Durham County on Global. If the show continues along the tracks laid out in the pilot, we may be seeing the best-made Canadian drama I’ve ever laid eyes on, but it won’t be a pleasant sight. The premiere opens with the subdued but nevertheless horrific rape and murder of two teenage girls by one man while a second — a possible accomplice, looks on. This is a series that is here to get quite close to the grim and hideously disturbing nature of violence.

Durham County is about the actual Durham County, just a quick SUV-ride up from Toronto. Making just such a trip is the Sweeney family. Behind the wheel is father Mike (Hugh Dillon), a square-jawed homicide detective who’s being reassigned. His wife Audrey (Hélène Joy) is undergoing chemotherapy and vomits during the car ride. Their teenage daughter Sadie chastises her mother to roll down a window, but she refuses. A five-foot tall puppet seated beside Sadie inquires as to when they’ll arrive. The talking puppet removes her face, revealing herself to be Mike’s eight year-old daughter, Cicely, in a Sailor Moon-type mask.

The Sweeney’s get a warm welcome from Traci Prager (Sonya Salomaa) from across the street, a strutting, bottle-blonde mall-mom. When the Sweeney’s go to her barbecue, Mike meets her husband, Ray, (Justin Louis) an old acquaintance of his who he’s not quite on friendly terms with. Ray tells Mike privately, though perhaps not altogether earnestly, that he’s now willing to forgive him for running over his legs in their last year of high school — the event that destroyed his imminent chance to be drafted into the NHL. Ray, we recognize, is the man who had been gazing on the double rape and murder. 

So, here is the main conflict of the series. The homicide detective is now living across the street from an old enemy who is, at very least, complicit in a serial killing. The suburban dilemma of having to hide your dysfunctions and present a façade of normalcy has been ratcheted up to the hundredth degree. These people are living with some very big secrets and some very big masks. 

The youngest daughter most obviously presents the mask theme, her oversized, permanently happy cartoon head quite the natural defence for an eight year old who has grown up knowing either one or both of her parents could die at any time. Audrey, when it is time to go to the Prager’s barbecue, uses a prosthetic breast, a wig and sufficient make-up to conceal her cancer from the neighbourhood. Mike’s mask may be the biggest of all, though. In this first episode we learn that he took vicious vigilante revenge on the man who shot his partner and that he has been continuously cheating on his cancer-stricken wife.

The characters are well-cast, particularly Justin Louis as Ray Prager, the old enemy and new neighbour. Whereas we’re so used to seeing vicious characters who are brilliant criminal masterminds, Ray’s viciousness is a much more believable kind. Louis gives us a character who is more like that neighbour who’s always revving his car in your driveway, the stranger who shoves you on the street for no reason, the man who shouts at an underpaid clerk for any excuse he can find. He’s that constantly angry man who won’t be calmed until things have gone too far. And so Ray tips things way too far.

The writing is beautifully concise. Far too many pilots tell us far too much and get laden down with dull exposition or awkward character introductions. Since Durham County is a story that is in large part about secrets, the writers wisely leave many for us. This episode reminded me of the better episodes in the first season of Lost. The writers would pick a few pivotal moments in their characters’ lives that gave us a picture of their decision-making habits (their character) but the picture provided would raise further questions about the circumstances of those decisions. Likewise with Mike and Ray, at very least, we have been given sketches of figures in action, but we don’t yet have the background to complete the picture.

As the picture develops, I can say with near certainty the details will only elaborate the bold strokes here. Anyone willing to look at this disturbing picture will find themselves rewarded by its earnestness and its novelty. Durham County reminds us the awful face of violence may be much closer than we imagine.

Workslacking: good for you, good for America

By Jenny Bundock

It’s pretty much summertime. Exams are finished, applications to schools are done, all the final essays and assignments are handed in, and if you are like me this means you’ve suddenly got a hell of a lot of time on your hands.

For me, this means that I’ve start making lists like crazy; dazed by my ability to ration my time differently, I set lofty goals for my summer months. I eagerly write out wish lists of things I’d like to, or need to do, like “get wisdom teeth out,” “visit mother,” “get weird mole checked out,” or “read three fiction books.” Having made the list, I am satisfied, and I proudly tack all 30-odd listed tasks onto the wall of my room to be scratched off as the hazy days of summer roll by.

What I seem to forget every single year is that day-to-day tasks like “do the laundry” and “wash the dishes” that never make the summer list — and despite my “free time”, I don’t end up doing anything that I thought I would do, and look back in August and think, “besides this tan, what did I do over the last couple months?”

In fact, I would go so far as to assume that we all have this kind of an attitude towards future free time. It’s this mythical 4^th dimension that we know exists, but that we cannot quite conquer or bind into submission in order to complete tasks.

My latest encounter with “future free time” was in planning my trip to Europe, which is coming up in a little over a week. I caught myself in the classic assumption of “I’ll do it on the plane.” I stupidly thought that I would summarize the book I just finished, start and possibly finish my new book, and maybe get my address book in order so I know who to send postcards too. I mean, I’d have eight hours right? Eight sweet, sweet future hours.

The problem with this train of thought is that I have been on enough planes to know that the only thing you ever can really stand to do on a long flight is sleep. I have learned this so well that my carry-on for use in flight now consists of a walkman (yep, I still have a walkman), a half-done book, $5 for a magazine, Werthers Original for take-off and landing, a pen, and my moleskin.

Gone are the days of three books, two magazines, a to-do list, my day planner, my laptop, a deck of cards, six packs of lifesavers, and other food colouring-laden candies to make me hyper. One trip to Australia in first year taught me that the plane is for sleep and a book to make you sleep. That’s it.

So why do we do this? Why do we assume that the future will be a leisurely romp through all the things we didn’t have the time or interest to invest in when we were:

Employed; in school; living at home; living with a roommate; going out for pub night; getting ready to leave for vacation; planning a trip to the cottage; dating that person; friends with that person; part of that club; in that play; working on that article; eating that dinner; studying for that exam; or any other thing we see as only a temporary distraction from all the shit we’ll be able to do when it goes away.

Perhaps this is growing up? Maybe this is why the baby boomers are reluctant to retire — because they know it’s a scam. We scam ourselves into believing that we are merely one small obstacle away from endless joy and insanely efficient productivity. See the boomers, they know it’s a joke; they were the Freedom 55-ers. They retired a decade ago, then realized it wasn’t all hot stone therapy, sipping margaritas on a white beach with their best friends (not the ones that tie up all their time), or reading every book they thought looked interesting, and being totally caught up on LOST.

They got to that beach, realized the drinks were $11.50, the books were just as long, everyone wanted a piece of their time, and that LOST is just too damn hard to follow even if you watch it end to end, and they went back to work.

So what is the solution?

Slacking off at work.

Hear me out. I think we need to reclaim OCCUPIED time.  Occupied time, now that is true productivity time. Think about it: if you are say, at work, and you are alone, and there is a computer there, then you will answer the 30 emails that have been sitting in your inbox without even thinking about it.

If you are supposed to be studying for your exam, you are damn right you’ll finish your fiction book, and blog about it too! If you are in a lecture, and it is the same women’s studies lecture you’ve already heard 50 times on essentialism, then damn right you can research your entire environmental policy paper in those three hours, and email your best friend about how lame that lecture is during break.

I believe that the true ticket to free time is feeling like you don’t have any and that you are slacking off on the stuff you are supposed to be doing. For this reason, I am offering my services as a life coach. I will bombard you with a bunch of tasks that you must complete, despite their stupidity and tedious nature, and force you to sit in a place you hate for hours on end. If you haven’t finished all the shit you wanted to do by the end, I’ll give you a full refund. 

I estimate that this is the precise strategy that the US has employed in Iraq. Afghanistan wasn’t enough of a resource pit, so they had to get busier and spend more money… then finally, one sweet day, a young slacker with a spring in his step would wander off to some cave to text message his optometrist, and BAM — found Osama. You heard it here first.

Simply genius.