I’m reading Neil Gaiman’s collection of nonfiction essays and speeches titled “The View from the Cheap Seats,” and I’ve been inspired to write.
After a long absence. Yet again. This probably won’t be the last time. But I digress. I’ve only recently become a fan of Neil Gaiman’s work. I read his short novel “The Ocean at the End of The Lane” when it was first released. It had an enticing cover that promised something sinister in the moonlit night viewed through a lens of childish wonder. I had already seen, and been a huge fan of, the movie “Coraline” so I had some expectations of his style. It is an understatement to say that I loved this book. In fact, I wanted to know more about what else lurks next to houses located in the middle of nowhere, and what other ideas Neil Gaiman had. I soon followed this up with his novel “Anansi Boys”. It took me a while to read, for various reasons not related to the writing, but I enjoyed the fantastic journey of Charlie and his brother through their universe and all of the dangers it could pose to our world. His stories always seem to have a sense of danger lurking around corners, in the shadow of trees, or on the other side of mirrors, especially when they are surrounded by the most innocent situations. It is a wonderful creative mind that speaks to my early teen years when I was most fascinated with fantasy and speculative fiction. This collection of nonfiction includes speeches or introductions for writers he admires. He has an amazing ability to introduce and explain his admiration with a straightforward style that is very refreshing. While he does inspire me to write more, because I do enjoy that creative part, this collection reminds me that I need to read more. He is telling me that I am missing out and that that my literary world is still too small to truly embrace the art of writing. But, then again, I’ve always been a late bloomer. Often late to parties, if I’d ever been invited at all. Music and Books I grew up in the 70’s listening to pop songs from the 50’s and 60’s, with the Beatles, The Monkees, and Motown being my most favored of them all. In the 80’s, while the rest of my contemporaries were arguing whether The Police’s “Ghost in The Machine” was better than their much lauded “Synchronicity” album, I wasn’t familiar enough with either work as I was just starting to listen to popular music. When asked to chime in, I did as I always did when I wrote most of my papers for English: I faked it. I would say something along the lines of “’Synchronicity’ is just more popular; both albums really kick ass.” Then I’d walk away and try to hide my ignorance. It wasn’t until I graduated that I really started listening to the amazing records from The Police, so much so that I purchased, in reverse chronological order, all of the albums. I already had “Synchronicity” on cassette, so I went with “Ghost in the Machine” on vinyl and then I began to understand the true debate: the seeming commerciality of “Synchronicity” versus the riskier arrangements taken by Sting, Summers, and Copeland in their previous work. I still find merit in my original analysis, but at least I have a better idea of what I’m talking about and don’t believe I have to fake it. Not quite as much, anyway, For most of my life, my musical tastes, and authors, have come from outside; rarely do I find things on my own. On those rare occasions, I take a risk and am pleasantly surprised. Other times, though, I’m disappointed, but being the stubborn man-child that I am, I struggle through. One such instance was a horror novel about a physician and a possessed caduceus that haunted him. It wasn’t a terrible book, but I lost interest after a few chapters. It took me about a year to finish the 300+ page hardcover which I promptly added it to my bookshelf. No matter. Finish it I did. Other artists I’ve come across that I follow include Afro Celt Sound System and The Aggrolites. My introduction to the Afro Celt Sound System was through their song “When I’m Falling” which featured Peter Gabriel on vocals. I was already a huge fan of Peter Gabriel by then, so I became a huge fan of that song, bought their CD, then I was hooked on Afro Celt Sound System as well. Retracing this lineage backwards, my fandom of Peter Gabriel was a direct result of being a fan of Genesis, but I was only a fan of Genesis because in 1985 a good friend invited me to see their Invisible Touch Tour at the Oakland Colosseum. I don’t think I knew any of their songs, but I was game because it was my first pop music concert ever. I was blown away, and not necessarily by the copious amounts of hashish being consumed all around us. Later that year, my brother gave me their album for Christmas and I loved it. I started learning about their earlier works, starting with their eponymous Genesis album. Then I learned about Peter Gabriel’s work right around the time his album So exploded on the scene. It was almost meant to be. But once again, I was introduced by others to these amazing artists, and these artists, in turn, inspired me to seek out others. The draw to The Aggrolites followed a similar, line. When ska and ska-punk was hitting the scene in the late 70’s and 80’s, I was still listening to The Beatles, The Monkees, and Motown, as well as AM radio night time mysteries (“The Shadow” anyone?). The Police were my introduction to Ska, but I didn’t really become a fan of that style until the mid-1990’s when a college friend of mine suggested we go to the Dance Hall Crasher’s concert at the Filmore in San Francisco. I’d only heard their hit that was playing on the radio those days, so I went into this gig with no idea what to expect. I had a great time, got a little mosh pit experience including losing my glasses and getting knocked around when I bent down to pick them up from the floor. A great gig and I’ve been a fan of the Dance Hall Crashers ever since. It wasn’t until the early 2000’s that I found out that DHC was formed by Bay Area ska-punk legends Tim Armstrong and Milt Freeman. When I did a Pandora search one afternoon, I got wind of Tim Armstrong’s solo effort “A Poet’s Life” and several songs stuck with me. I also loved the sound by the backing band. I had assumed it was Tim’s but found out it was The Aggrolites. So, I went on Amazon, purchased a CD, and was hooked. I soon followed the Aggrolites, which lead to the Skatalites, then The Specials, then The Clash, and The English Beat. All bands that most of my contemporaries were clued in to back in the 80’s. It only took me about twenty or so years to catch up. I’m not entirely sure if I was ever invited to that party, but I eventually showed up anyway. But music isn’t the only body of work where I was beyond being fashionably late. I love to read, but the body of work I had read always seemed to be lacking any of the widely regarded classics that others of my ilk had already read and moved on from. To be clear, I was an English major at Diablo Valley College and earned my English degree at UC Berkeley. I also enjoyed most of my English classes in high school. Yet, I’m almost ashamed to admit that never really read all of the assigned readings. (Or perhaps this is one of those best kept secrets held closely to the vest of English majors everywhere?) Knowing this, and long after I graduated, I started to realize that there were classic works that I’d only given a passing glance to, if I ever glanced in that direction at all. I felt it was necessary to do my degree proud and tackle these works. A copy of Herman Melville’s “Moby Dick” found its way into my hands one summer in the late 90’s. It was in miniature hardcover form. It was the complete text and I felt it my obligation to read this oft-quoted tome. It took a long time as my dedicated and disciplined reader muscles had atrophied. But finish it I did and I may have actually enjoyed parts of it, though the intricate details of cetology and seafaring life was a little too much. Now I can say that I read it, however, and closed that book and put it on the shelf. [A Side Note: I think bookshelves are English majors’ way of keeping score. Go to any English degree holder’s home and check out their bookshelves and tell me if I’m wrong. It’s not a bad thing. One of my greatest desires is to have more bookshelves in our small home so I can shelve all of my reading accomplishments. Probably in order by author, but I’ve also played around with organizing by genre. The dream is real, my friends.] The same is happening to me with famous authors like Albert Camus (“The Plague”), Orson Wells (“1984”), and Margaret Atwood (“A Handmaid’s Tale”). I’ve finished all of these in the past year or so, and now am tackling Kurt Vonnegut’s “Slaughterhouse 5”. Haruki Murakami is also on my To Read list and will follow Vonnegut immediately, unless there’s another Gaiman novel I need to enjoy. Oh yes, I’m currently eyeing “American Gods”, and I think it’s looking back. I’m also mid-way into a Lincoln biography, four chapters into a Churchill bio, and Chernow’s “Hamilton” is staring at me as if to ask “You bought me, what are you going to do with me?”. All of these are attempts to recognize the need to read these works to catch up to some undisclosed expectation. Real or imaginary, I’m actually enjoying the challenge. Maybe you can see where I’m going with this as I get back to Neil Gaiman’s collection of essays. After watching the movie “Coraline” and reading “The Ocean at the End of the Lane” and “Anansi Boys”, I finished “Stardust” and then my wife and I watched and enjoyed that movie as well. Now, Neil Gaiman is one of my favorite authors, along with Stephen King, Phillip K. Dick, H.P. Lovecraft, Dashiell Hammett, and Piers Anthony. All have an amazing ability to transport the reader to their world, filled with wonder, mystery, engaging characters, and a hint of danger. From this collection of essays and speeches, I’m also challenged to read works by Harlan Ellison, Dave McKean, Gene Wolfe, and Terry Pratchett, to name but a few. I’m sure others will be added before I finish this book. And once completed, they will all be put on my shelf and added to my score. Probably after everyone else has left the party. “…and the papa tomato yelled at the baby tomato, ‘Catsup!’” Sept 9, 2018, Irvine, CA
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