As I wrote in my Coming Attractions post, horror dealing with possession or satanic cults is horror that sticks with me when it is done well. Possession movies are most often a sub- set of the evil child movies. To be honest, I don’t normally care for evil child movies. It seems that many of them try too hard, rather than letting the natural creepiness of children lay a subtle framework for the film.

Enough about my preferences and on to the film at hand!

The Last Exorcism is not a story about a possessed child. It is the story of a pastor that lost his faith long ago, yet continues to preach and deliver people from demonic possession/oppression. The film is directed by Daniel Stamm, who, based on his filmography, likes to play with blurring the lines between documentary and film.

Patrick Fabian (prolific television guest star) plays Cotton Marcus, a Louisiana pastor who began his career as a preacher; I believe they said around age 6. Following in the footsteps of his father, Cotton learned the tricks and necessary traits to work the congregation into a frenzy.

After reading a story about the death of a child during an exorcism ceremony, Cotton decides that he can no longer continue to perform exorcisms. Cotton defends exorcism by saying that while he no longer believes in demons, (effectively stating that he no longer believes in a God) the service he once provided can help people that are held captive by the thought that they are possessed. Exorcism can help the mind release the thought, basically, because if one believes they are possessed, they can also believe that the ritual has set them free.

When Cotton comes across a story that The Vatican is opening a school to teach the exorcism ritual, he decides that he needs to take action to stop people from buying into the sham and to protect children from accidental death during exorcism. To do this, Cotton hires a film crew to follow him on what will be his last exorcism. Selecting a random letter from his pile of requests, Cotton tells the crew that they will follow the request to completion, capture it on film to reveal the process and thereby debunk exorcism.

The letter requesting help from the pastor takes the crew to southern Louisiana, an area, we are told, that because of the multicultural background, has many varied views of religion. The crew decides to get some footage of the locals talking about various superstitions that center around the area. I got the feeling that the crew was out to show how simple the townspeople were. That feeling was verified by Cotton in the last clip, interviewing the locals.

Cotton and crew arrive at the Sweetzer farm and must convince Louis Sweetzer, played by television “that guy” Louis Herthum, to allow the cameras. While we don’t see what was said during the exchange, we see Cotton using his charisma, charm and position as a pastor to convince Louis to allow the filming of the exorcism.

Then we meet Nell, the star of the film, played by the child like (You’re kidding… she’s 24?) Ashley Bell. Bell oozes the simple innocence of a sheltered country girl. She is polite in a way that is lost to today’s youth and there is a genuineness to her character. This innocence makes the demon manifestation even more unsettling. Bell can go from sweet, yet confused to downright creepy with nothing more than smile.

We are allowed to watch Cotton set up the space for the exorcism, complete with a myriad of party tricks that give the illusion of the supernatural. Cotton performs a trite, well rehearsed ritual and claims to have cast the demon out of Nell. Louis pays Cotton a fairly large sum of money and the crew departs.

This is where the movie kicks in.

I don’t want to give too much away. Everything I’ve given to this point is build-up for the second half. Suffice to say that the exorcism did not work and because of his arrogance, Cotton has put Nell in danger, potentially in more than one way. We get a chance to see the demon at work in Nell.

What we really get to see is Bell’s star potential. I am hopeful that this will be her breakout role.

As the movie progresses, we are left to wonder about secrets in a small town. Who is guilty, who is telling the truth and who all is involved. Questions that are answered before the final, unexpected ending of the movie.

One of the strong points of the film is that every image we see is viewed through the lens of the camera. One of the weak points is the shaky cam stuff. Some of the attendees of the film were not prepared for the extent of the shaky cam. Cloverfield would not have been a friend to those individuals.

Casey Criswell of the Bloody Good Horror podcast, who went with me to check this one out, said of the film, “While it was no “Exorcist”, it was still a pretty fun watch.” Casey’s right, it is no “Exorcist”, but maybe it’s The Exorcist for today’s generation. A generation whose horror consists mostly of poorly made remakes. This movie surpasses the last big film of a similar subject, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, by staying away from the courtroom and maintaining the use of the camera for our point of view. Nowhere near as shocking or well made as The Exorcist (Director’s Cut coming to theatres clocking in at 2hr 45 min.), The Last Exorcism plays well for the younger crowd, although, some will find that it drags a bit.

It’s not perfect, but few films are. I enjoyed it.

How much?

Out of $10, how much would I pay to see this again? $7, but only with people that have not yet seen it.

Jay (J.C.) Fralick is the co-host of the Wanna Watch a Movie Podcast
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I enjoy Mary Roach immensely. It’s difficult not to! At least for me, anyway, because I enjoy a heavy amount of snark and humor in my books, especially the nonfiction sort. Plus, okay. Maybe I enjoy a certain bit of morbid literature too. Big whoop, wanna fight about it? Roach has written on topics like the afterlife of corpses (no, literally. The farms they rot on, the experiments they’re used for when you donate your empty vessel to science) and the afterlife of the possible soul (ghosts and the ways people have tried to contact them through the ages, for instance) oh, and sex! Of course, sex! It’s the big three, man.

So, of course, the final frontier is next. Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void tackles your big questions: what happens if you fart or — worst case scenario — vomit inside your space suit? What are the actual requirements of being an astronaut? When you really pause to think about being cooped up in a capsule for days, weeks or months on end, it seems like all of the science in the world falls slightly to the wayside in favor of living with somebody who is even tempered, who won’t snap and murder the whole crew.

One of my favorite parts was in the beginning of the book when Roach is visiting a Japanese facility weeding out astronaut potentials. The candidates were all locked in a room together, served their meals at certain times of day and monitored 24/7 by researchers. When Roach asked whether they were going to create some kind of emergency, like a fire or something else equally emergency-esque to test their mettle, the response was, “Well, we were thinking of disabling the toilet.” SO BRILLIANT! It’s the little things in space, you know? Things like that which you wouldn’t think about without a bit of prodding or a researcher pointing it out.

She writes it best though, “What drew me to the topic of space exploration was not the heroics and adventure stories, but the very human and sometimes absurd struggles behind them.” Exactly! What draws a person to forsake their Earthly lives and go to zero gravity for unspecified amounts of time? Why do we think it’s okay to send them  there? What’s zero gravity sex like? What do you do about astronaut body odor? There’s a whole chapter called “Houston, We Have a Fungus: Space Hygiene and the Men Who Stopped Bathing for Science” and it’s gross. But awesome! But gross.

There are more questions answered here than you probably thought to ask. Like hey, what happened to Ham? You know, NASA’s space-chimp? How do they REALLY go to the bathroom? Why can’t they make a Star Trek-esque space pod to get people home in an emergency? And so on and so on…

That’s the whole point, though. Knowledge is power! You will not enjoy this book if you don’t enjoy random tangents (there’s a great one when Roach is discussing vomiting in a space helmet and ends up talking about wines going with canned soup…) and questions being answered with a quirky sense of humor and a self conscious writing style. It’s a fast, enjoyably light read, a fun yet brilliant book to get through over the weekend or a particularly lazy afternoon. So, enjoy! And if you want to know more about her other books, well… hang on. I bet I’ll post reviews eventually, they’re some of my favorites.

Happy reading, literary nerds! And good luck not laughing (assuming you have a sense of humor like mine, anyway) when you pick up this fantastic read. Good tidings and leave your comments here or on that thar twitter site orrrrr email me at booknerdist@gmail.com!

The Kids In the Hall are back, comedy nerds. I mean, the die-hardiest fans among us realize that they never really went away, having gotten back together numerous times since 1996’s Brain Candy feature for live tours, comedy shorts, and the like.  But this is their first substantial filmed effort in 14 years and hold onto your wigs and costume jewelry, because Death Comes To Town – which lands tonight on IFC at 10 p.m.  – is KITH turned up to eleven.

Our friends and fellow nerd brethren in the Great White North, of course, got to see this epic miniseries of oddity eight months ago. Okay, and some of us might not have been so patient for that U.S. air date. (Hey, if it’s good enough for Dave Foley, it’s good enough for me.) Britain’s The League of Gentlemen has been cited as an influence on Death Comes to Town, and if you’re familiar with the former you’ll definitely see its impact on the latter, in the often pitch-black comedy of a small-time town populated with big-time freaks. Even the lone return appearance by a character from the Kids’ 1990’s sketch series is one of their stranger, skeevier creations. And I don’t mean Bellini. Bellini is pretty much a requirement, isn’t he?:

Here’s the thing, though : While I can definitely lay claim to more than five laughs over Death Comes to Town’s four-hour cumulative running time, which as UK film critic Mark Kermode stipulates should be a fair litmus test for a successful comedy… wellll, I didn’t really love it. There’s a lot of high-octane insanity going on here driving toward the big mystery of who killed the mayor of Shuckton, Ontario and why, and though the set pieces involving individual characters and storylines usually work on their own, some repeat gags lose steam the more they’re utilized and the manner in which they’re woven together doesn’t always gel. (Caught myself around episode six thinking “Guys, you’ve got an hour left.  Denouement!” I know, probably a bad assessment for a surreal comedy, but maybe that’s my old-school miniseries gauge talking. I know, it’s not the fucking Thorn Birds. Shutting up now.)

I’m looking forward to watching Death Comes to Town again and seeing if the stuff that irked me the first time isn’t as much of an issue. That said, even it felt a little scattershot at times, there’s plenty to be enjoyed. Remember how Cancer Boy was minutely scandalous when Brain Candy came out? This show is crammed with Cancer Boys, each gleefully pushing the boundaries of good taste, and it’s hard to choose a favorite: Mark McKinney’s Death, holed up in a seedy motel getting hammered on owl’s blood and lusting after chubby redheads, is up there. So is Scott Thompson’s hairless town coroner whose, um, attachment to Bruce McCulloch’s late mayor gets a leeetle bit freaky. Foley’s scarcely grieving mayor’s wife is great, and his indistinctly foreign veterinary nurse is even better. And then there’s Rampop (Landon Reynolds-Trudel) – the mayor’s son who mostly runs around squawking and sees everyone, except Death, as giant psychedelic butterflies. Rampop is probably the most awesomely strange creation the Kids have ever realized. (Well, at least since “Sausages”):

Sound off about Death Comes to Town below – and share some of your other favorite KITH classics while you’re at it. (My pen! My pennnn!)

Guys, I’m distressed. Or maybe appalled is more accurate? It seems that an inappropriate number of people haven’t read Neil Gaiman’s American Gods yet and next summer will be the ten year anniversary. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!

After a lengthy Twitter discussion on the awesomeness that is American Gods and Neil Gaiman himself, I decided that his book needed its own review on the illustrious Nerdist blog. Everybody should read it! Not just because I said so, either. (But isn’t that enough?)

All right. Let’s start with what it’s about: a dude named Shadow gets paroled from prison, just after the death of his wife. It’s very depressing. Eventually, we delve into the strange journey he’s about to take with an insanely unique cast of characters. The whole premise is mythology; the old gods who are all but completely forgotten — although the Greeks don’t make an appearance, actually — waging a war on the new gods, those that speak of modern technology and the like. As Mr. Wednesday (he’s the Norse God Odin, by the way) puts it, “There are new gods growing in America, clinging to growing knots of belief: gods of credit card and freeway, of Internet and telephone, of radio and hospital and television, gods of plastic and of beeper and of neon.” And he doesn’t like it. Would you? Especially if you were brought over by the immigrants, who clung fastidiously to their beliefs, only to be abandoned for glitz and glam and flashy little jerks riding around in limos? I wouldn’t like it one bit.

This is the sort of book that I’ve read more than a couple times and each time I stumbled across some tidbit that I managed to miss before, something that hits me like a slap in the face (“Oh MAN! I never noticed THAT before.”) and I think that might be the best part of reading this book.

Very rarely do people completely understand their first read-through. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve recommended this book only to receive a mediocre response a week later, something along the lines of “Yeah, I guess it was good…. I didn’t really understand Mr. Wednesday, I guess.” Usually, I say: READ IT AGAIN and, if they do, they come back with an “OMFG I GET IT NOW!” and are recommending it to their friends. In fact, I was one of those people on my first pass, but luckily, I didn’t remain that way.

Although there’s a scene where a woman swallows a man whole into her vagina (it really bothers me, I don’t know why…), the book is an enjoyable read and definitely a fine piece of literature. It makes the reader take pause and examine what it is that we hold dear nowadays as opposed to what people held dear a century or four ago. It’s a much deeper read than you’d expect right off the bat, leading the reader to question theology and the course of the world, and I do see how it could throw people off their first time around.

So! Read it. That’s my point. Then read it again. I hope you’ll enjoy it and if not, I’m sorry. (But not really, it’s awesome.) Thanks for reading my post, book nerdlings, and feel free to leave your questions, comments and words of wisdom right here or on Twitter or drop me an email! Yaaaay literacy!

Nerds, we have failed miserably! Scott Pilgrim vs. The World came in 5th this weekend behind The Expendables, Eat, Pray, Love, The Other Guys and Inception. While I’m excited by the staying power of Inception, I’m very upset that the two most fun films of the year did not take the top two spots.

I had planned to write a very different story on these two, but I cannot overcome my disappointment in Scott Pilgrim’s opening. I’m sure the film will earn and it is destined to become a cult classic, but I wanted the nerds to beat the jocks just this once, not come in almost $25 million behind. Honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised. Nerds never win in a popularity contest or any event that showcases brute strength and I guess box office draw falls somewhere along that spectrum. I had just hoped that our numbers had been growing as we slowly make our way into the mainstream and that Scott Pilgrim would be a chance to make our numbers known. Perhaps we were divided between Star Wars Celebration and the cinema. Whatever the cause, it’s not too late for some great summer entertainment.

Friday night was the guys’ night. My nephew and I braved the opening night crowd and went to check out The Expendables. As a fan of mindless action flicks, I had been looking forward to this one for quite a while. I remember hearing that Stallone was working on a film starring himself, Li, Statham, Lundgren, Austin, and rumored cameos by Schwarzenegger and Willis. According to Stallone; Van Damme, Segal and Norris were asked about making an appearance in the film, but it was not meant to be.

In the case that you weren’t sold on The Expendables because of the cast alone, I’ll give you a little bit about the plot. Stallone plays Barney Ross, leader of a mercenary group that is hired to overthrow the dictator (General Garza, played by David Zayas, best known to me as Angel from Dexter) of a fictitious South American island-nation. The team consists of Lee Christmas (Jason Statham) whose weapon of choice is a blade, martial artist Ying Yang (Jet Li), Toll Road – demolition expert (one time MMA champ, Randy Couture), the unstable sniper Gunner Jensen (Dolph Lundgren – Seriously, this guy is a chemical engineer and a Fulbright scholar from MIT?) and heavy weapons expert Hale Caesar (the too awesome for words Terry Crews). Rounding out the good guys is the sage-like Tool (Micky Rourke – I’m not calling him a tool, that’s really his character’s name).

We find out early on that Garza is working with an American named Munroe (Eric Roberts). Munroe’s personal guards include Paine, played by Steve Austin and The Brit, played by the familiar-but-I’m-not-sure-from-where Gary Daniels.

From the opening scene of the team in action to the massive explosion, hand-to-hand combat and gunfire period of over-stimulation that is the climax of the movie, The Expendables delivers; as long as you were looking for shit to blow up, one liners and people to get killed in ways that make the entire theater exclaim “Damn!” I also want to mention that I love the music choices in this one. Southern Rock and action flicks are made for each other and songs by Georgia Satellites, Mountain, Thin Lizzy and Creedence Clearwater Revival belong in this movie like Mtn Dew at a tabletop gaming session. If you can forgive the digitized blood in a few scenes, Stallone has written and directed the perfect action flick.

Sunday was the day that my wife, my niece and my nephew went with me to see Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. The moment the Universal logo came up, accompanied by matching 8-bit song, I knew this would be something I would enjoy.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World is about..uh..Scott Pilgrim (played by Michael Cera). Scott Pilgrim is your average 23 year old Canadian slacker who plays in a band, is between jobs and lives with his friend and gay roommate Wallace Wells (Kieran Culkin).

Scott Pilgrim is dating a 17 year old high school student named Knives Chau (Ellen Wong). Knives loves Scott and she loves his band – Sex Bob-Omb. Unfortunately, for Knives, Scott meets the girl of his dreams in Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead from Death Proof and Live Free or Die Hard). Also unfortunate for Knives, Scott gets too caught up in trying to win Ramona to break it off with Knives. Also also unfortunate, but for Scott this time, Ramona has seven evil exes that have banded together to control the future of Ramona’s love life. In other words, Scott must defeat the seven evil exes in order to continue dating Ramona.

Scott Pilgrim is filled with video game references. From Scott’s Pac-Man pick-up line to battles between Scott and the exes set to look like boss fights, this is one for the long time video game player.
The best part of Scott Pilgrim is the battle scenes. Comedic, action-packed, exciting and nostalgic I was a bit sad that there were only 7 evil exes.

This week was my favorite week in recent cinema-going history. The perfect action movie and the perfect nerd movie in the same weekend made it a joy to hand over my money. Thank you Mr. Wright and Mr. Stallone, you gave us some great entertainment. Keep doing what you do so well.

How much would I pay to see these again?

The Expendables: Out of $10, I would pay $8 to see it again. I could never get tired of some of those explosions and watching as the group takes on impossible odds.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World: Out of $10, I would pay $10. I love this movie and if I had any question about any future Edgar Wright projects, they are gone and I’m sold!

Jay Fralick is the co-host of the Wanna Watch a Movie? Podcast
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Chances are, if you’ve ever studied biology, you’ve heard of HeLa cells. If you haven’t, well… let me enlighten you a little! HeLa cells are known as an ‘immortal’ cell line because they grow indefinitely and can be divided up and frozen for decades at a time amongst scientists for study. So basically, if you feed them? They will grow.

Pretty amazing, right? The thing is, while a lot of people have heard of HeLa cells and tons of scientists have utilized them (Jonas Salk, for one), very little was known about their origins for a very long time. Basically, we knew the cells came from the cervix of an African American woman during the ‘50s, but text books had the “donor” listed with a variety of names from Henrietta Lacks to Helen Lane to Helen Larson, all with a variety of ages.

The fact of the matter is that the real woman whose cervical cells were harvested was, in fact, Henrietta Lacks. Rebecca Skloot’s book The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks finally gives her and her family a voice. A history.

Here’s a great excerpt from the book, one illustrating the importance of Henrietta Lacks and her fantastical cells that I probably didn’t do enough justice in my quickie explanation earlier: “Scientists had been trying to keep human cells alive in culture for decades, but they all eventually died. Henrietta’s were different: they reproduced an entire generation every twenty-four hours, and they never stopped. They became the first immortal human cells ever grown in a laboratory.” Yeah. Pretty important stuff. In fact, the importance of these cells can’t be overstated in any way shape or form. They’ve been used to treat and cure hundreds of diseases and cancers, so why is that the children of Henrietta Lacks couldn’t even afford health care? Why is that they’ve never seen a penny or a thank you note?

The author intended to find out why. Rebecca Skloot has poured years of her life and herself into this book, which is completely evident. The story reads like fiction, even the technical parts are spelled out in an interesting way, and we see how Skloot came to be part of the Lacks family’s story and their fight to understand what happened to their mother and her cells.

There are spiritual and ethical questions raised throughout this book and some of the events surrounding the Lacks family are truly harrowing. One part that really stuck with me was learning that by the time the Lacks children finally learned that their mother’s cells were still alive, some twenty years after they were harvested, HeLa had already been to outer space and helped to test the vaccine for polio.

Skloot’s book is a masterpiece, plain and simple. Whether or not cellular biology interests you (I don’t regularly pick up books about it for fun, amazingly), this book tells a story that will tug at the heartstrings and poke everybody’s morality bone. Sure, harvesting cells without the consent of the donor is unethical but 1951 was a very different time and a very different place for an African American woman. Perhaps Deborah Lacks, Henrietta’s daughter, puts the paradox best. She said, “Truth be told, I can’t get mad at science, because it help people live, and I’d be a mess without it…[sic]” Which is a good point, of course, helping people is always good. But then she goes on to make an even better point, illustrating said paradox perfectly: “But I won’t lie, I would like to get some health insurance so that I don’t got to pay all that money every month for drugs my mother cells probably helped make.[sic]“

Though controversial, there’s no denying how much Henrietta Lacks has contributed to humanity and no counting the amount of lives that her cells have saved. There wouldn’t be enough ‘THANK YOU!’ hugs in the world to express it. If you’re interested and want to learn more, read this book. You will not be disappointed.

As always, thank you for reading and feel free to leave me your questions, comments and words of wisdom RIGHT HERE! Or on twitter! OR email me!

art by the incomparable Paul Hanley

So, I broke down and ordered the Eleven Doctors action figure set, as I knew I probably would, and I’m here with my consensus.  I don’t collect toys in general, so I don’t have much of a basis other than gut reaction.

I hadn’t decided whether I was going to remove them from the package or not until I got them.  I’m not too pleased with the TARDIS packaging; it’s fine but the toys don’t look good in it.  I think I was hoping for too much, after all it’s not a display case, it’s a box.  So I took them out, which took about a half an hour with all the plastic twisty ties they used.  After inspecting them, I decided to judge each figure on four criteria: Likeness, Detail, Toy Quality, and Overall Coolness.

LIKENESS: The thing you (I) want in figures based on real people is resemblance and these toys by and large do a good job.  Most of them are above average facsimiles of the actors, with the best being Jon Pertwee, William Hartnell, and Christopher Eccleston and the worst being Peter Davison, Paul McGann, and Colin Baker.  C. Baker in particular has almost no definition in the face. I know he’s the pudgier one, but he has a chin.  They did get the hair pretty dead on. RATING: 4/5

DETAIL: The detail of the costumes on these toys is astonishing.  They know mainly super critical nerds such as myself would buy these and if they didn’t get the look of the figures right, they’d have a bespectacled horde on their ass.  The coloring is absolutely wonderful and the costume choices for Pertwee and Tom Baker were great.  They must have rushed a ton of these out in a short time, so I can forgive a little paint running.  I’m not a monster.  Accessories are also excellent.  Six figures have a specially designed sonic screwdriver from their era, the First Doctor has his cane, the Second Doctor has his recorder, the Seventh Doctor has his umbrella, and the Sixth Doctor has, well, nothing.  They can’t make an ego toy, I guess.  One thing I’d say against it is the Sylvester McCoy figure doesn’t have his trademark hat so we can only assume the figure was based on the four minutes of screen time in “Ghost Light” where he’s not wearing it.  That’s a minor nitpick, though.  RATING 5/5

TOY QUALITY: Here’s where I have a point of contention a little bit.  Action figures need to have some weight to them and not feel chintzy. I spent $100 on these, I don’t want them to feel like dollar store fodder.  The earlier Doctors are all well and good, the middle ones are okay, but it seemed that the three new series Doctors are just repackaged versions of the mass-produced original line.  They’re lighter and not as sturdy.  On the upside, each figure has 15 points of articulation so you can put them in any action pose you’d like.  RATING 3.5/5

OVERALL COOLNESS: They’re just so damn handsome as a set.  Right now I have them on my living room’s mantle and it really is awesome.  Comic books aside, this is the only way we’re going to see every incarnation of the Doctor in one place and if you are into memorabilia, there really are none better.  RATING 6/5.  That’s right, 6.

Now, is it worth the price?  I feel like they could have been about $25 less expensive.  For $100+, I expected more perfection than what I got, but since I already bought them, I’m happy.  It might be possible to find them cheaper on ebay or through some dealer, but I’ll bet the price will only go up from here.  If you Whovians out there are into such things, I say go for it.

Then you can do this!

By the way, the top illustration is by Paul Hanley and it friggin rocks.

You’re welcome
-Kanderson

They say not to judge a book by it’s cover and I’ve never had that old adage illustrated more poignantly for me than with Horns: A Novel by Joe Hill. It wasn’t the cover art that deterred me, it wasn’t the color scheme or page count, no.  It was the name under the title. An author that I had formed opinions about based on his previous book and nothing more. I guess the adage needs to be amended in this case: Don’t judge an author by his first book. A week ago, I was most definitely not a fan of Joe Hill, based strictly on that one book I’d read. I wasn’t and still am not a big fan of Heart Shaped Box, a book of his that did absolutely nothing for me, and if not for the gold star given to Horns by a trusted friend (thanks Randy!), I wouldn’t have bothered picking it up. That’s not to say that I don’t recognize the merits of Heart Shaped Box, I realize some people enjoyed it immensely and that it was an inventive story, I just wasn’t looking forward to picking up another Joe Hill book.

I’m so glad I did though! I fucking loved Horns. I can’t even talk about it without using an expletive because it was fanfuckingtastic! (For the record, I realize that LOTS of people may not agree with me here and that my taste in fiction has been questioned a few times, so. Consider this my disclaimer. I loved it. You might not. Isn’t that fun?! Differences, yay!)

There are few things in this world that intrigue me more than a good old fashioned love story driven by blood and guts and revenge. Horns is, without a doubt, a fabulous representation of this.

We meet Ignatius Perrish, a man of twenty six who lost the love his life, Merrin, a year before. Unfortunately, everybody in town thinks Ig is the one who raped and murdered her, but of course the evidence that would have convicted him was conveniently (or was it unfortunately?) lost in a forensics lab fire. But it doesn’t matter. As far as the town of Gideon is concerned, Ig’s a murderer and his rich musician father got him off the hook.

Thing is, he didn’t do it.

That’s where we meet our hero. It’s the anniversary of his beloved’s death, so Ig gets shit-faced and drives out to the scene of the murder and… well, the memories are all foggy after that. The next morning, Ig’s suffering from a wicked hangover and something even more disturbing: a pair of horns sprouting from his forehead. Logically, he assumes they’re a hallucination caused by a brain tumor. That theory turns to shit when he realizes that he’s not the only one who can see them.

So what happened? Did he make a deal with the devil? Can God help him now? He doesn’t know. What he DOES know is that these horns have some kind of power over people. It turns poor Ig into their own personal demon, the one they can spill all of their terrible secrets too, the one who can influence them to act on their darkest ambitions…

Unsurprisingly, this gift brings forth Merrin’s true murderer and while Ig learns to harness his horns, we’re drawn into the story. The plot has a few twists and turns that are easy enough to predict and others that are fantastically strange. Ig’s fate and brand of revenge weren’t exactly what I was expecting, maybe even strangely anticlimactic, but it was fitting. His ultimate fate was especially fuzzy to me and the theological debate that this book can spark is fantastic because of it.

Like I said before: this book will not be for everybody. People who are extra touchy on the subject of Heaven and Hell probably won’t appreciate it. People who are stringent atheists might not care for it either, in fact. If you fall somewhere in between the two categories (with a sense of humor, gasp!) and enjoy somewhat bloody, sometimes adolescent angst and some serious revenge mongering, well! Go for it. You will not be disappointed.  (At least I hope not!)

As always, leave your questions, comments and words of wisdom right here. Or on Twitter! Or email me!

Happy reading, booklings!

There are very few things that can influence an entire country’s culture, especially those that span across generations. They can sometimes be hard to spot and sometimes they are so evident and celebrated that it’s impossible NOT to notice. Need an example? I have one! Japanese schoolgirls. They’ve absolutely permeated Japan’s culture, becoming a fixture in society, and they’re increasingly seeping into the American consciousness as well. Need to know more? Japanese Schoolgirl Confidential: How Teenage Girls Made a Nation Cool by Brian Ashcraft and Shoko Ueda is definitely the book to get.

I’ve always been kind of amazed by the amount of attention Japanese schoolgirls bask in. They’re usually gorgeous, giggly and coquettish, dressed in their sailor-esque school uniforms (however modified they might be), and of COURSE they’re a cultural phenomena. Guys want to be with them, little girls want to be like them and (most) women recall that time in their lives with fond memories. The book probably states it best though, “For Japanese women, the appeal of schoolgirls is that they are in the prime of their lives, unfettered by work, marriage and children. They are young and relatively free. For men, the appeal is the memory of a first crush, of sitting in a classroom surrounded by girls in skirts and sailor outfits.”

Japanese Schoolgirl Confidential digs into the meat of this often fetishized, sometimes misunderstood and certainly ever growing phenomena with surprising wit, knowledge and TONS of references. The book is broken down into manageable chapters that cover everything, from uniforms (since the late 1800s, amazingly!) to music, movies, shopping, books, games, manga — you name it, they’ve at least touched upon the schoolgirl’s influence regarding it.

I found that reading this is almost like reading a very small text book on a topic that is fathoms deeper than I ever imagined. Don’t let the cutesy cover and adorable font throw you off — this isn’t just a fluffer book cashing in on a trend. Ashcraft and Ueda take a scholarly approach to the reasons behind the sometimes overly cutesy trends surrounding these girls, who buys into them and why. From the height and elasticity of their socks over the years to their semi-recent casting as ass-kicking villians (see: Kill Bill), it’s difficult to argue that their influence will do anything but grow.

You see, there’s a bottomless pit of girls that can be the next schoolgirl idol who revives an old trend or creates a new one. No matter what that trend is, whether it be short skirts leaving little to the imagination or long ones swimming around the ankles, it will still be a Japanese schoolgirl behind it and people will always take notice of what she’s decided is the newest and coolest thing.

If you’re into Japanese culture and want to know more about the Harajuku origins or why schoolgirls are on the advertisements for nearly everything, then pick this up. You’ll learn about things you never thought to ask!

As always, nerdlings, feel free to leave your thoughts here, on Twitter or email me!

Also, as an aside, I’ve been asked recently about Advanced Reader’s Copies from various authors and I’m MORE than willing to take a look at ‘em! Drop me an e-mail! My only warning is this: if I don’t enjoy it or if I think that the Nerdist audience wouldn’t particularly appreciate it, I won’t review it. (For instance: Breastfeeding For New Mothers isn’t a title I’m particularly inclined to put up as a review.) That said, please don’t hesitate to contact me!

Felicia Day's gonna kill some Geth. No big deal.

Image Via Felicia Day

When faced with the insane crowds at this year’s San Diego Comic-Con, I did what any professional journalist would do – I ran back to my hotel room and watched Prince of Persia while sipping soothing champagne from the mini bar. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed the evening social parts of SDCC (seeing Hammer Improv live, hanging out with the Guildies, being on a panel of wicked smart lady nerds, meeting John Oliver from The Daily Show and making him laugh OMG) but the Con itself was more than overwhelming-it was panicattackwhelming. A nine out of ten VERY NECESSARY AND PRESCRIBED Klonopins, is what I’m saying.

Thursday was relatively calm and I was able to attend some panels, hang out at the Axe Cop booth, drool over everything at Oni Press and Dark Horse, and stare longingly at the TRON light cycle. But Friday was a NIGHTMARE. While waiting in line for the BONES panel news starting circling on the Twitters of the now infamous Harry Potter Anti Squatter Eye Stabbing . [UPDATE: Actually, the eye stabbing happened on Saturday while I was in line at Starbucks. YOU SEE HOW CONFUSING COMIC CON IS?] Soon after that bit of excitement/horror we were informed there was no way in hell any of us were getting in to see BONES. I cried a little on my press pass then wiped my nose with my pro pass. Yes, that’s right. I had both kinds of fancy passes which were were clearly useless. At that point, I gave up and went searching for a mojito while mumbling “I wanted to be queen of the lab harrumph.”

On Saturday, I hovered around the DC Universe booth for awhile but the fifteen year old dudes bogart-ing the machines would not let me in and anyway they all smelled like B.O. and Red Bull. I did get to play the new TRON: Evolution work-in-progress game (coming out in November) and it is FUN you guys – light cycles and future jai alai amped up to MCP levels of bad assness. So at the very least I did get to do one token gaming thing.

I’ve covered cons in the past – WonderCon, Azkatraz, etc… but this was just too complicated for me. There were limited edition prints and variants to be had but the trick was you had to enter a raffle, win a wristband, and then wait in line to maybe, MAYBE buy them. Even the line at Starbucks was a gamble as to whether you’d ever really get your drink. In my opinion, Wonder Con, PAX, and Emerald City Con are better bets for the more er…sensitive of us: the delicate snowflakes who can’t handle the lines, noise, and madness of Comic Con. And please don’t think I wasn’t thrilled to be a part of SDCC because I really was incredibly excited to meet so many amazing people – just maybe not while surrounded by 10,000 screaming kids dressed as Avatar: The Last Airbender.

I guess what I’d like to know is were any of you at SDCC 2010 and did you feel like it was more crazy than years past? Or the same? Or am I just being a big baby who needed to nut up (if I had nuts which I don’t because you had to enter a raffle to get a wristband to wait in a line for…oh never mind). Thoughts please.

Tweetsies!