THE SLAB--Another Perspective

Dan Wells, a writer whose works I admire and whom I honor as a friend, has posted the following review of my horror novel The Slab at Amazon.com. I don't usually reproduce comments about my works but when someone really gets it, there's an uncontrollable urge to share. So here it is: 


"Most haunted horse stories follow some similar tropes--an old house, maybe out in the woods or a large estate, some ghostly noises or floating candelabras, etc.--but The Slab is something I'd never read before. This is a horror story for a decidedly modern, relentlessly banal society: a tract house in a cookie cutter development, made horrific not by an ancient curse or an Indian burial ground but simply by the greed and corner cutting of a contractor more interested in money than the well-being of his customers. Which is not to say the house isn't haunted--there is a real evil here, a malevolence far grimmer than I've seen in a long while.

"Part of the reason The Slab is so effective is the way it combines supernatural horrors with the very real horrors many homeowners are all too familiar with. Family after family is destroyed by the house, not just because of the darkness beneath it but because it is a money pit, difficult to maintain and almost impossible to sell; som of the darkest moments come as you watch the characters slowly put the pieces together, realizing that the house is hellbent on destroying them, but knowing that they can't really do anything about it. They owe more than it's worth, they can't sell it, they can't cut their losses and leave...what else is there to do but stick it out and try to fight back?

"At times the book is painful to read, and some of the house's attacks are truly vicious, but the quality of the writing and the connection you feel to the characters keeps you hooked, hoping against all odds that someone will finally 'win.' The conclusion is tragic and satisfying at once. Highly recommended."

This from the author of several outstanding novels, including the I am Not a Serial Killer series and his newest, Partials.  All well worth the read. 

Stephen King’s 11/22/63 and the Freshman Composition Essay

This is not a review of Stephen King’s recent novel 11/22/63, although there might be a review forthcoming eventually.

Instead, this is a meditation on writing, triggered by the first part of that novel, “The Janitor’s Father.”

In the opening pages, King’s narrator recounts reading essays from a high school ­­Adult Education class he is teaching. Essentially, the task is mind-numbing…an experience perhaps all composition instructors have shared to one degree or another.

Then he comes across one written by the lame janitor at the school—and is stunned. The piece is misspelled, grammatically inept, mechanically flawed in just about every way possible.

He gives it an “A,” then adds a “+” for good measure.

And in doing so, he changes his life.

I was startled by that introduction, not because I had any preconceptions as to how King would enter the world of his narrative but rather because I had once receive that essay, or one so near like it that the differences seem inconsequential.

I was teaching Freshman Composition as a teaching assistant and graduate student at the University of California, Riverside. The year must have been 1974 or 1975—I know it was my first or second year in the classroom, at any rate. I had assigned as a topic “Discuss the most important event in your life.”

Almost immediately after stating the topic, I knew that it was a mistake. From the back row came a tentative whisper, “What if it hasn’t happened yet?” I stifled the impulse to respond, “Are you planning something for tonight?” and instead modified the assignment to “an” important event.

A week later, the essays arrived on my desk. And, much like King’s high-school teacher, I began wading through a stack of essays written by the book. The events might have once been important to the students, but the papers succeeded in demonstrating that, after all, the students really didn’t care about what had happened. The writing was flat, tedious, largely passive, and tendentious; the unstated purpose in all of the essays was to get the onerous task over with, get a decent grade, and get out of Freshman Composition as quickly as possible.

In most cases, it seemed that I could have assigne a grade—a safe “C”—to all of the papers, walk into class on Monday, fling the essays into the air, and whatever paper the students grabbed would do them as much good as my giving them the ones they had written.

Then…then I came across the essay.

It was far from flawless. Paragraphics were sloppy. More sentences were run-ons than not, and the ones that weren’t, were comma splices. Spelling was nothing exceptional, about what one might expect of first semester college students in the U.C. system back then. Grammar was spotty but the sentences were readable.

I gave the essay an “A.” I probably would have added the “+” but at that time, UCR didn’t recognize such a grade.

The narrative was simple.

The writer’s older brother had just graduated from high school with honors and had received a scholarship to a local university. He would be the first one in the family to attend college. The family was having a party to celebrate and had run out of soda. He offered to go to the corner store to buy more. The writer followed, lagging behind slightly, and so was half hidden by bushes when three boys stepped out from behind the corner of the store and stabbed the brother to death.

He had been a drug-runner but had turned his back on his former colleagues and straightened his life around. They didn’t like it.

So they killed him.

I later found out from the writer that this essay had been her first attempt to articulate her feelings about what had happened, her emotions at the sight of the murder, her fright, her fear, her horror.

I handed the graded essays back at the end of class that Monday…all except one. I requested that the writer stay behind for a few minutes; the paper was too precious to merely drop on her desk in passing. We talked for a long while, more about the experience than about the essay, then I asked her permission to reproduce the essay, without names, and hand it out to the class.

She graciously agreed, and the next class meeting we had a long discussion about rules of composition, conventions of punctuation and spelling, requirements of sentence structure…and when it was all right to ignore them.

That might have been the first time that I truly understood what one of my undergraduate professors had said about language, that one of its primary purposes was emotional adjustment. The essay was far from perfect, yet it was perfect. The run-ons and comma-splices gave it a breathless, hurried sense, as if the writer still could not believe what had happened and wanted to get through re-living the experience in words as quickly as possible. The occasional mechanical wobbles intensified the emotional values in her words, her sentences. And the fact of its very existence was a tribute to the courage and strength the writer admired in her brother and was demonstrating in her own actions. She had overcome something horrendous, she had completed high school in spite of her fears, and she was now the first in her family attending college.

From then on, I taught English composition pretty much the way I was expected to. I had the students buy the required texts, although I frequently ignored the books as much as relied on them. If the students did the reading, their writing would show it; if not, well, they were adults and capable of choosing for themselves. I assiduously marked errors, at first with a red pen, then later with a pencil, to suggest that many of the things I noted might not be all that terrible.

But always I kept my eyes open for other essays like that one.

I found a few. Not all were as terrible in content as that first one. Some committed “errors” because of excitement, or enthusiasm. I even found a few cases in my poetry classes where students were carried away by the power of words and didn’t actually writing in perfect iambic pentameter as the assignment requested.  Occasionally, I wrote “This one is an ‘A’—but don’t do this to me again” on the bottom of a paper whose author, I hoped, would understand what I meant.

It is now almost forty years since I read that essay. In important ways, it determined much about my approach to teaching, to writing, to poetry, and to life. Re-living that experience through the eyes of Stephen King’s high-school teacher reminded me how much I owed to that long-ago student, who committed an act of courage beyond anything her classmates could have understood (at least in so far as their run-of-the-mill essays might have indicated). It reminded me of why I loved teaching, why I love writing, why writing is important—to me and to anyone who discovers its secrets.

I may write a review of 11/22/63, eventually. But I am already grateful for having opened the book.

Paul Genesse's THE CRIMSON PACT, VOLUME 2...Once More into the Breach

Paul Genesse, editor. The Crimson Pact, Volume 2. Alliteration Ink, 1 September 2011. Kindle edition, 777 kb, $4.99. ASIN: B005LXST8G. Paperback, 13 October 2011. 584 pp., $19.99. ISBN-10: 0984006508, ISBN-13: 978-0984006502

Whenever I see an anthology of short stories with the subtitle Volume 2, I automatically anticipate more stories like the ones in the first volume, perhaps following a similar theme, or placed in the same landscape (real or imagined), or exploring further the exploits of certain individuals.

The Crimson Pact, Volume 2, fulfills that expectation...and much, much more.

There is the expected continuation of underlying theme: all of the stories in CP2 take as their ultimate starting point the cataclysmic battle between humans and demons outlined in “The Failed Crusade” (CP1). The human forces apparently win. Or so they think. Because the true outcome of the battle is that the demons—in whatever size and shape they choose to appear—are now free to re-group, and absorbing the power released by the death and suffering they have released, now determine to infest and infect as many worlds as possible, throughout all time and space. Volume 1 gave readers an introduction to those worlds as imagined by over two dozen writers of short fiction and flash fiction, with many of the stories (especially the shorter ones) crying for continuation.

Which is precisely what Volume 2 provides. Ten of the twenty-eight tales are direct or indirect sequels to stories in CP1. Some pick up quite literally at the point where the earlier tale stopped; others shift time, locale, character to follow the actions of humans (and not-quite-humans) as they continue their one-sided struggle against the waiting hordes of demons.

And there is more. The remainder take us to new worlds and explore possibilities undreamed of in the first volume. In some sense, the stories—both the new and the continued—demonstrate a deeper maturity in understanding and expression, perhaps simply because CP1 exists and, whether taken as a starting point or merely suggesting potentials in the human-demon wars that had not yet been specifically examined, illuminates the wealth of permutations on history, religion, philosophy, art, and other elements that still exist.

After all, CP1 posits an infinity of worlds and universes in which demons may appear. CP2 moves further outward and inward.

Few of the stories in Volume 2 do anything except satisfy. The flash fictions titillate with the promise of more while offering carefully crafted moments that, in their compression and almost poetry-like texture, encapsulates the essence of the larger struggles. Old friends from Volume 1 reappear; some continue victorious, others do not.

The longer stories provide the more substantial landscapes, characterization, and narrative that a war of such epic scale requires. Again, there are heroes who face down demons in all of their horrific array; and there are perhaps even greater hero who give their lives to further the cause. From my perspective as reader, those stories—including the final two, Patrick M. Tracy’s “Red Bandanna Boys” and Suzzanne Myers’ “Seven Dogs”—represent humanity, whether demon-hunting or merely standing for the right, at its finest.

I strongly recommend The Crimson Pact, Volume 2. If you read and enjoyed Volume 1, this addition of tales will expand upon that enjoyment. If, for some reason you missed Volume 1, these stories provide an introduction to the basic theme and more than sufficient reason to go back and read the earlier ones.

And, somewhere near the end of March 2012, The Crimson Pact, Volume 3 is scheduled to appear, with a new contingent of flash fiction, short stories, continuations of previous tales, and further explorations into time, space, and demons.

Drawing out the Dragons: James A. Owen on Challenges and Choices

I was not able to hear James Owen’s Guest-of-Honor Address at last week’s Life, the Universe, and Everything XXX, the annual symposium on science fiction and fantasy, located this year at Utah Valley University in Orem UT.

Quite literally, I was not able to hear it.

The range and intensity of my deafness makes it almost impossible—even with up-to-date hearing aids—for me to understand clearly in groups larger than two or three. In the audience at the Centre Stage at UVU, I was audibly lost.

So, as more than a few people assured me, I had missed something remarkable.

Missed, that is, until I read Drawing out the Dragons, his small, beautifully written book on meeting challenges and making choices…the latter being the fundamental point of the volume. There are always choices.

On the other hand, I did enjoy one experience that only a few others at the symposium could: I was asked to participate on the “Tolkien and Lewis: Why They are Still Relevant after Seventy Years” panel, along with Robin Weeks (our more than capable moderator), Jessica Harmon, and…James A. Owen.

Sitting at the table with the Guest of Honor, knowing little more about him than had been included in the symposium program booklet, I was immediately impressed with him. He began his introduction by wondering why he had been invited to that particular panel, since he was not a Lewis/Tolkien scholar per se, then proceeded to demonstrate—not to explain—that he was indeed more than qualified; that his Imaginarium Geographica series, beginning with Here There Be Dragons (Simon & Schuster 2006), brings not only the works of Lewis, Tolkien, and their constant companion Charles Williams to life, but elements of the authors’ lives as well; that he was a quiet, soft-spoken gentleman whose every word (which I could actually hear, since I was sitting at the table with him) was worthy of consideration.

Later in the symposium, I had the opportunity to speak with him informally, as he was signing a copy of Drawing out the Dragons and illustrating it with one of his characteristic dragons while an enormously patient young fan waited as we chatted.

One on one, he was every bit as warm and generous as he was on the panel as we talked a little more about Tolkien, Lewis, fantasy, writing, and the symposium in general.

Which brings me (finally!) to Drawing out the Dragons itself.

I downloaded it tonight, in response to a kind offer Owens made as a thank-you for his reception at LTUE XXX. Initially, I intended to load the .mobi version onto my Kindle and begin it tomorrow morning while eating my breakfast at a nearby Subway.

But I made a mistake.

I opened the accompanying .pdf instead, and abruptly found myself facing…a dragon. Very like the one he had drawn in the young fan’s book. I scrolled to the second page, and couldn’t resist the reference to the Superman ring Owen wears.

And I was lost again, for the next hour or so.

Until I finished reading Drawing out the Dragons.

It is not, as Owen makes clear in the introduction, about his Imaginarium Geographica series, or his other writings; others—fans, readers, scholars—are capable of talking about what he does in his books. Instead, it is about the great lesson he wishes to share with his younger readers.

There is always a choice.

He approaches his subject through autobiography, which is fascinating enough on its own account to make the book intriguing. His life is distilled to a retelling of challenges—professional and personal—to the choices he made in meeting and overcoming those challenges, and to their consequences to and throughout his life. Whether it be a lingering childhood illness that made even the doctors despair, or a car accident that seemed effectively to have put an end to his drawing career, or the promise of a job that resulted in disappointment and severe financial straits—whatever the occasion, he recounts it clearly and objectively, never reaching for the easy way out, for sentimentality or undue sympathy, but always moving toward his final goal: to demonstrate the importance of choice in his life…and by extension in everyone’s life.

It would be of little value for me to go into detail about the contents of the book. It is fairly short and easily read, and speaks more for itself than any summary or précis could accomplish. But what emerges from the experience of reading it is the sense that one has encountered a remarkable man. Insightful, determined, even brilliant, yet at the same time open-hearted, generous, and above all optimistic.

The same man that shared a table for a panel discussion. The same man that took five or ten minutes to speak from the heart to a near stranger.

I recommend both the man and his words. Both are extraordinary.

See the book at: http://www.amazon.com/Drawing-Out-Dragons-Meditation-ebook/dp/B004VN31NK/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1329366502&sr=1-1

Introspections: On Sex, Gender, Mormons, Marriage, and Exaltation

As I understand them, here are several points relating to the stance of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints concerning marriage:

*Marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God.
*Marriage as so defined is a key element in the Plan of Salvation, which is ultimately available for all of God’s children—that is, all of humanity.
*When solemnized by priesthood authority, marriage is intended to extend throughout eternity, along with relevant family relationships and ties.
*Sexual intercourse outside of marriage is not in accordance with God’s will.

These and other salient ideas are contained within "The Family: A Proclamation to the World" as published by the First Presidency and Council of the Twelve Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints more than a decade ago. Appearing as it does over the signature of President Gordon B. Hinckley, his Councilors, and the Quorum of the Twelve, the proclamation is, according to generally accepted definitions, considered as revelation by millions of members world-wide and remains as such unless or until the President of the Church should receive additional revelation modifying it in any way.

Recently, someone on Facebook posted what was essentially a statement of intent, defining whom he would accept as friends and whom he would defriend:
I don't judge anybody by what they believe, only by how they behave.
I don't defriend republicans for being republican, I don't defriend conservatives for being conservative. I don't defriend people for being Christian or Mormon or Muslim or any other faith.
I defriend people for denying the civil rights of others. I defriend people for not doing their homework and promulgating lies and foolishness. I defriend people for bad manners. And not because I hate or despise, because I don't have time for that. I defriend people because I have neither the time nor the obligation to be friends with anyone who fails to contribute to others.On first reading, the pronouncement seems clear and cogent. It seems fair, even reasonable, particularly the comment concerning hatred—one need only keep one’s eyes and ears open in the public forums to witness the excess of hate-speak that floods in from nearly every direction.

A further reading suggests, however, that the statement is more than a bit disingenuous, particularly the second sentence of the second paragraph (although much the same arguments could be made about other sentences): "I don’t defriend people for being Christian or Mormon or Muslim or any other faith."

Not, perhaps, for being any of those things listed. However, as an English professor, I have to note that to be as a verb is deficient in action; it merely asserts a state of…well, of being.
 But for being religious…as in practicing one’s religion? I’m not certain how one can differentiate between being a Mormon (passive, static) and living as a Mormon (active, dynamic).

And if that is the case, there doesn’t seem to be any way for the author to avoid the conclusion that underlying the surface impression is an unstated willingness, almost a requirement, to defriend people for being/living as Mormons.

The LDS religion is unlike almost any other Christian religion in that it is based on the principle of continuing revelation, on the existence of prophets today who have the authority to communicate the will of our Father to His children. They do not have the authority to force anyone to accept those communications; anyone who chooses to do so may ignore anything the LDS prophets declare—and millions of people clearly have chosen to do so.

They do, however, have the authority to guide and direct those who willingly become members of the LDS Church, those who have whole-heartedly accepted the premise of a God-inspired leadership and signaled that acceptance by baptism into the church. And, logically, anyone who no longer accepts that leadership and the mores of the LDS community may turn away from them.

But in doing so, they essentially cease to be LDS, even if for various reasons they hold on to the name.
The issue becomes significant when one compares the Facebook declaration-of-intent (quoted above) with the focus of "The Family." One of the civil rights the Facebook author espouses is marriage equality. In an earlier post, the author’s stance was made crystal clear: If you don’t stand for marriage equality, I will defriend you. No discussion invited or necessary.

That is the author’s right.

On the other hand, "The Family" states explicitly that marriage, as ordained by God, is between a man and a woman.

That is within the rights of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It is, in fact, fundamental to the belief in human progression throughout the eternities that makes necessary the temples and the ordinances performed within them. To achieve the highest degree of exaltation a man and a woman must be married by priesthood authority "for time and all eternity."

(Please don’t bring up the frequency of divorce among contemporary marriages as a counter-argument. There are cars that have over a million miles on their odometers—for the purposes of this essay the automotive equivalent of "eternity." But without proper care, attention, and maintenance, those same cars might have broken down and become useless after only a few tens of thousands of miles…in fact, most do. Simply put, in spite of current trends, divorce is not the ultimate purpose of marriage.)

Celestial marriage requires a man and a woman participating in unity. Neither can do it alone; the man is as dependent upon the faith, the love, and the support of the woman as the woman is upon the man. Both are equal. Both must work together.

And the goal of those celestial marriages (how many of them there will be in the human family as a whole, I have no idea) is eternal increase.

Thus the problem. As we understand the biology and physics of generation, males cannot beget children upon males, nor can females upon females. Well, it might be retorted, there are a great many male-female unions that produce no children—and the response is, of course, yes, that is true.

But when talking about celestial marriage, members of the LDS church are not discussing the world as we know it, but a finer, more refined, more ‘god-like’ world, in which much that we do not now understand will be possible, in which the inhabitants do not possess mortal, imperfect bodies of flesh and blood, subject to weaknesses, illness, and disabilities. In such a state—and for such a union—eternal increase will be possible, although we presently know almost nothing else about the mechanics, the processes and the requirements. Only about the promise.

As things now stand, then, many LDS are concerned, not so much about the fact of same-sex marriage (although many would argue that to accept such unions fundamentally alters the definition and implications of the word marriage) as about the ramifications of such a change. Specifically, there are concerns that outspoken opponents of the church might exploit the opportunity to apply legalisms to force LDS bishops to unwillingly perform same-sex marriages or, as has already been intimated by even more extreme parties, to literally force public entry into the temples under the threat of lawsuits and, by extension, potentially destroy the LDS faith. Analogous situations have occurred in the past. At least part of the public opposition to polygamy over a century ago stemmed from a generally-felt public desire that the LDS church be legislated out of existence, that its properties be seized and its leadership imprisoned … for acts performed before the relevant laws were passed. As with other responses to similar threats, the 1890 Manifesto halting the practice of polygamy in the LDS church is seen by members as a revelation to protect and support the church.

And thus it stands.

At this point, the church may be confronting an external situation as potentially damaging as the federal antagonism to polygamy in the 1870s and 1880s. On the one hand, there are the stated beliefs of the church and the practices that support those beliefs. On the other are the actions and pressures by groups who neither belong to the church nor share those beliefs, some of whom are overtly antagonistic toward the church.

Will the current situation force changes in LDS policies and practices?

I do not know.

Could such changes occur?

Possibly.

If they do, they would not be the result of protests, pressures, demands by dissident groups outside or inside the church.

Like all other key decisions in the church’s history, any alteration or modification of the church’s stand on marriage would be the result of revelation. While those not of the LDS faith might point to alleged flip-flopping, or challenge the church’s authenticity based on changes in practices, they seem unable (or unwilling) to confront a key belief within the church…that the church is based on continuing revelation, that as society alters (even, perhaps, as the membership of the church grows in understanding and ability to deal with increasingly complex issues) the church may and will change.

Such changes are to be expected and, as in the case of inviting black males to participate in full priesthood blessings in 1978, may be widely welcomed within the church.
Would such be the situation now?

Again, I do not know.

But I am patient. I am willing to wait.

LTUE--Life, the Universe, & Everything 2012

This year marks the 30^th anniversary of Life, the Universe, & Everything: The Marion K. “Doc” Smith Symposium on Science Fiction and Fantasy. Since it first convened in 1982, the Symposium has drawn aficionados of the genres from across the United States, including world-class authors and recognized authorities in a variety of fields. It has offered panels, presentations, and addresses aimed at literally every facet of reading, writing, and enjoying speculative fiction. For something like a quarter of a century I have attended LTUE, acting in  just about every capacity the symposium has to offer—participant, panelist, presenter, speaker, workshop director, Special Guest, Academic Guest of Honor, and Poet Guest of Honor. I’ve shared the table at dozens of panels, getting to know some of the brightest, most effective thinkers and writers in SF/F/Horror…and along the way making a number of friends.

 This year, my pleasure in revisiting LTUE is even greater than usual, since I will be accompanied by my son, Michaelbrent Collings, himself a significant SF/F/Horror novelist and screenwriter. This will be our second year together at LTUE, and I am looking forward to hearing what he has to say in his panels and presentations.

As usual, I will conduct a one-on-one poetry workshop (sitting down with individual poets for an hour or so and looking closely as one of their pieces) as well as participating on a panel discussing how a knowledge of poetic conventions and devices can help make prose fiction even more entertaining and valuable.

In addition, I’ve been invited to read from my Taliesin series, a sequence of sonnets that draw imagistic and imaginative connections between the life-history of Joseph Smith and the mythology that surrounds King Arthur. The poems began as a way to explore the interaction of fantasy and reality, then—once I discovered that I was speaking through the voice of Taliesin, Arthur’s legendary bard—emerged as a vehicle by which I could investigate and assess my own faith.

The series, along with several other sequences, was published in 2009 as part of Som Certaine Sonets, about which the publisher has stated: “Sonnets are among the most widely recognized of poetic forms, dating back almost a thousand years. In this book, Michael R. Collings blends past tradition with contemporary experimentation, public commentary with private meditation, lyric compression with epic breadth, rigid structure with ‘nuclear-fused sonnets, free radicals, one electron away from exploding.’ As Robert Reginald says: ‘Once again Collings shows that “traditional” does not have to mean “staid,” and that all things are possible with imaginative word-play of the highest order. Great fun, great reading, GREAT poetry!’” (http://www.amazon.com/Som-Certaine-Sonets-Revised-Enlarged/dp/1434412318/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1328227153&sr=1-1)

Although I have shared several of the sonnets at earlier LTUE symposia, this will be the first time I’ve read the majority of the poems.

For these—and many other reasons—I hope those of you within traveling distance of Provo UT will consider taking the time next week to visit Life, the Universe, and Everything. The full program and all necessary information is available at: http://ltue.org/LTUE_2012.html.

See you there!