‘Dark’ is Delicious

I know a TV show is exceptional (or at least exceptionally complicated) when I start rewatching from the beginning because I know I missed things. With Netflix’s German-language time-travel series, Dark, there is a lot to miss. But unlike some mind-bending shows—I love Twin Peaks, but yeah—this one rewards deep detective work. For this reason alone, it’s worth exploring its labyrinthine caves and complicated family trees.

I discovered Dark a few months ago when a few enthusiastic videos recommending the series randomly appeared in my YouTube stream. After the trauma of Games of Thrones, I was looking for a new show, so I checked it out. By the second episode, I was hooked.

The drama plays out across multiple generations, time periods, and even worlds (as the cliffhanger at the end of Season Two suggests) and yet never loses its laser-sharp focus. The show not only has beautiful acting, stunning cinematography, and a score that haunts one’s dreams, but also poses philosophical questions—Bookstrap Paradox anyone? Esoteric symbols show up on the cover of an 80s Heavy Metal album, in a hospital hallway, and tattooed on the back of a creepy (and sexy) priest named Noah. Latin quotes, Biblical and mythological allusions lend intellectual vigor to outlandish concepts, and yet it all works together in a neat, believable puzzle. This slow burn is worth the investment.

Am I gushing enough yet?

The show has been compared to Stranger Things. I can only judge by the first season—I stopped watching ST after that—but other than some of Dark taking place in the 1980s, it’s an entirely different show. The German ’80s has a more dour feel than the American one, perfectly exemplified by the nuclear power plant steaming on the horizon in many of the shots or just offscreen. This feels more like the 1980s in the nuclear disaster faux-doc Threads. There are 80’s pop songs in this show too, but they don’t exactly evoke nostalgia. A Flock of Seagulls never sounded so sinister.

A lot of the drama in Dark is centered around the personal relationships of the town’s inhabitants. There is a sense they are isolated, as well as miserable. Perhaps the looming apocalypse has already happened, and the incestuous citizens of the fictional Winden are the last to know. Each character suffers his or her own private drama, sometimes over multiple time periods. Wouldn’t we all love to go back in time to fix our worst mistakes? But in doing so, would we set into motion the very mechanism that allowed those events to occur?

Dark is filled with these types of questions. You’ll find yourself thinking about it long after the credit sequence when you must force yourself from watching just one more episode after a three-hour binge.

Aside from the German language (I recommend subtitles over the English dubbing), Dark may turn off some viewers because it’s impossible to do something else when you watch (like fold laundry or check your phone) without missing something crucial. Some have claimed it takes a higher intellect to get it. I would argue it just takes a certain level of attention. Like a masterfully layered game of logic, deep dives into the maze will yield satisfying eureka moments.

There’s a sense—and I pray the third season doesn’t prove me wrong—that the show is leading the viewer toward a tighter and more complex knot that will untie as long as we pull the right string. Searching for it is half the fun.

Advertisements

We Write Horror, and We’re Nice to Each Other.

With a fresh box of buttered popcorn in my lap, I watch the seemingly endless loop of Twitterati YA scandals unfold, laughing at the absurdity while nursing a paranoid thought about when they will come for me. As a horror writer, I’m guilty of many of these Twitter mob’s narrowly defined transgressions. Just recently, I learned that my use of gay male protagonists in not one but two of my horror novels is not me embracing my own vision of the characters I created, but fetishizing gay men. I wonder what they would say about my victim with Down syndrome being tortured in the basement of my short story, Traci. And I’m certain the two-faced (literally) hermaphroditic killer in my story, Janus, is some reprehensible affront to inclusion.

Just recently the mob turned on one of its own. The author, a gay black man, was initially praised for his #ownvoices narrative until someone posted a bold-typed “review” pointing out that his novel’s setting during the Kosovo War was insensitive to the people who actually suffered during those events, that the author’s views on it were too western and privileged. Apparently, expatriate narratives are no longer allowed in this ever-moving target of acceptability. Frantic attempts at damage control by the author begging “friends” to up-vote his book to temper the storm was met with further shunning by the YA “community” until the author (ironically one of the major stone-throwers during the Blood Heir scandal) decided to “pull” his book from publication, and issue a prostrate apology with the usual promise to “do better.” You’ll hear this mantra a lot whenever one of these scandals erupt, and there is something eerily sinister about it, more frightening than a Richard Laymon panty fetish.

While members of the YA book “community” are donning their red pointy hats in preparation for the next auto-da-fé, we horror authors are high-fiving each other for writing that flesh-flaying scene in exquisitely gruesome detail. We may swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh, but you’ll never meet a nicer bunch of folks. In my one year on BookTube, I’ve had fellow horror writers give shout-outs about my channel and my work, publish my stories in their anthologies and zines, and send me personal emails offering support, reading suggestions, or just a friendly hello.

I have found most horror writers (myself included) to be shy introverts, with a few nightmares of their own they’re trying to keep at bay with their fantastical visions. For whatever reason, we found balm of Gilead in horror. Barker’s Cenobites soothe us; real life generally does not.

If you care to traverse the rabbit hole of the latest YA controversy, Jesse Singal’s exposés are a good place to start. He was called a Nazi (he’s Jewish) by a YA writer on Twitter for even covering this topic. Scary times indeed.

If you are an aspiring author and all this is making you wary about your own writing endeavors, consider coming over to the dark side. Our stories may bite, but we don’t.

Fostering Creativity – Part 6

Ex Libris Regina

Setting Boundaries

Something my husband and I have often discussed is how hard it was to have personal boundaries when growing up in a household with a lot of kids (he is one of twelve so he should know). As one of four kids I may not have had it so bad, but I still struggled with trying to establish an independent identity within a tight, at times dysfunctional, but mostly loving family dynamic.

When I was a little kid I was (like most American children at the time) a huge fan of the Monkees. I only got to experience the tail end of the Beatles just when they were breaking up—I went to see “Let it Be” in the movie theater when I was too little to really dig it. The older kids may have had who’s your favorite Beatle? , but we had a similar who’s your favorite…

View original post 329 more words

Famous Literary Scandals

Last night, while scrolling through Jezebel on my phone, I came across a story hot off the digital presses that immediately sparked my interest: a young poet named Ailey O’Toole, nominated for a Pushcart award (never heard of it, but it’s apparently quite an honor in small press poetry circles), was discovered to have plagiarized a good section of her work from several other poets, including an understandably pissed-off poet named Rachel McKibbens. Not only had O’Toole lifted lines nearly word-for-word from her work, she had the audacity to have one of those lines tattooed on her arm for a cool Instagrammable moment. Whoa! This takes it to a whole new level. It’s worth reading McKibbens’ Twitter response about the entire fiasco. O’Toole’s own Twitter page, alas, went poof overnight along with her other social media. Once the scandal broke, the one-star reviews and general vitriolic “reviews” of her work on GoodReads came down hard and swift. She lost her award nomination and the small press pulled her book.

Me! Me! Me! 

This incident caused me to reflect on other great literary scandals. Let’s take a look, shall we?

 Tomi Adeyemi and Nora Roberts

UPDATE: Looks like it’s a big week for lit scandals. A few days ago Tomi Adeyemi made a impulsive tweet that I’m sure she is regretting now (since deleted). In it, she accuses veteran bestselling romance writer, Nora Roberts, of stealing her title and cover art for Children of Blood and Bone. Nora Roberts’ dignified response to the accusation is worth reading.

JT LeRoy

Triangle of deception.

JT LeRoy, was invented by a woman named Laura Albert, an artsy San Francisco housewife who couldn’t get a break. Albert was a talented writer, and a bit of a grifter. Between gigs as a sex chat phone operator, Laura wrote stories under her pseudonym and alter ego, JT LeRoy, a pretty blond teenage boy who was turned out by his truck stop prostitute mother and was now barely surviving on the streets of SF. Agents and critics were intrigued by his backstory as well as his gritty and sexually raw prose (a thing in the 90’s). LeRoy got a publishing deal and a legion of celebrity fans with whom Albert, using her sex chat skills, chatted regularly on the phone. She also recorded the conversations. To use as potential blackmail when the shit hit the fan? Albert kept the balls in the air for years by employing her sister-in-law to act as JT’s avatar, and even helped produce a film of the work, The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things. You ain’t kidding. Not even star and director of the film, Asia Argento (with whom the fake JT allegedly had an affair) knew the truth. This scandal comprises an enormous rabbit hole that rewards the deep dive.

James frey

How wonderful to have your book included in Oprah’s book club and get featured on her show! How horrifying to have it exposed as a work of plagiarism, then having to appear along with your pissed-off publisher on the same show for a public flogging. Thus was the fate of James Frey, whose 2003 “memoir” A Thousand Little Pieces about the author’s drug addiction, criminal past, and triumphant recovery, earned Frey the Oprah seal of approval. The glory was brief, however, when it was revealed that he exaggerated some of his “real life experiences.”  He returned to the Oprah show with his publisher to offer an apology. The host and her mostly female audience fell on him like the Bacchae on Pentheus, tearing him to shreds.  The beating was so severe that Frey ended up garnering some sympathy. Eventually he bounced back into literary obscurity. He still writes and probably continues to earn a decent living. One wonders if the scars have healed.

#Cockygate

Romance novelist  Faleena Hopkins was doing so well with her Cocky guy book series that she apparently bought the copyright to the word “cocky” and tried to sue other writers who picked up on the trend because Alpha sells. The entire thing blew up in Ms. Hopkins face and she was forced to retract her lawsuits and offer a sorry not sorry apology. I would post one of her many shirtless buff guy covers, but I’m afraid she sue me. Use your imagination.

Which reminds me…

I’ve been meaning to watch Can You Ever Forgive Me starring Melissa McCarthy about a literary forger. Girls gotta make a living.


The gal in the latest poetry scandal looks pretty young (dare I say millennial?). Hopefully she’ll take some time off, draft a few groveling apologies, find a good tattoo remover, and quietly work on her craft (or find something else to do) until it all blows over. Perhaps in her recovery journal she’ll write (in quotes!) the famous words of Stanislavski: Love art in yourself, and not yourself in art.

New YA Suspense Story

cousinb
My father kept a terrible secret from me and my mother: another child he had hidden away for seventeen years. Now, “Cousin B.” has moved into our home and is taking over my life.

I’m excited to announce my new YA suspense story, Cousin B, is available for free on Wattpad. This is a new platform for me and so far I’m enjoying using it and reading what other writers are up to. “Cousin B.” has been bouncing around my brain for awhile. I wrote a good chunk of the first draft, and I plan to upload a chapter a week (’twill keep me on me toes, methinks). This is my first foray into YA. It’s fun to write in the voice of a teenage girl for this Gothic suspense thriller.

Click HERE to begin reading COUSIN B and follow me on Wattpad. I will be adding more stories soon.

 

New Novel Giveaway

A New Occult Thriller

As a thank you to my blog followers, I’m giving away TEN advanced paperback copies of my new occult thriller novel – BLACK MAGICK  (first come basis – US only). Reserve your copy now by sending me an email at exlibrisregina@gmail.com (subject: black magick)

About BLACK MAGICK blackmagickcover

Beware the devil woman….

Small town music legend, Rob Sweeney, had everything a man could wish for: money, success, and the love of his life. But when a bitter ex-girlfri

end isn’t ready to let go, he makes an unwitting deal with the devil in the form of Lloyd Lair, a musician who lacks Rob’s talent, but will stop at nothing to get what he wants…including murder.

 

 

 

 

Obsidian

 

volcano.jpg

Volcanic dense, though lava cooled,
Carved Phoenix rising to the sky,
To penetrate a pale, blue pool,
A morning call to Night's demise.

Shine forth, ye peaked, ebony jewel,
Reveal within the sun's first rays,
A standing power's highest view
And witness to a million days.

An ancient tower, black on blue,
Erected by a thousand slaves
From distant quarries forth they drew–
Obsidian–its glassy face—the vanity of gods embrue.

As chaos, ever creeping darkness looms,
Be light and wise among the ruins.

How to get your book reviewed on BookTube

Ex Libris Regina

I’ve always considered myself a shitty saleswoman, so imagine my surprise when I did something right by just writing a personal letter to one of my favorite book tubers Peter Loves Books. After watching his videos and getting to know him as a cyber “friend”, I had an inkling he might enjoy Unmasked, my campy throw-back horror novel. He hasn’t finished it yet, but so far so good. In an age when it’s so easy to just write an email or a fly off a tweet, it’s nice to know a personal letter is still appreciated. I just may buy some new stationery and make it a regular habit. Thanks, Peter!

View original post

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑