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Aurora from my upstairs window

Aurora above the city lights

The auro­ra data were good last night, but I’d had a long day so I did­n’t go out in the coun­try­side last night. I did set up a cam­era in the spare room, in case it got bright enough to be seen over the city lights. At worst, I thought, I’d get a few hours’ worth of star trails.

Oh, and the star trails turned out OK, too.

4½ hours worth of star trails

I set up the cam­era around mid­night; the bat­tery final­ly died around 4:35am. The trails above are made from about 2,200 frames, each 5 sec­onds, f/2.8, ISO 800.

RIP, David Lynch

Still from Mulholland Dr.: Rita (Laura Harring) and Betty (Naomi Watts) facing the camera, looking perplexed

David Lynch has left us. He made some amaz­ing movies, some of which we showed at the Evans The­atre.

I remem­ber show­ing Mul­hol­land Dr. back in ’01. In that era we were show­ing two films a week­end: one would play on Fri­day at 7:00pm and Sat­ur­day at 9:30pm, and the oth­er would be Sat­ur­day and Sun­day at 7:00pm. I watched most of Mul­hol­land Dr. on the Sat­ur­day ear­ly show, and had to leave before the end of the movie to set up for the sec­ond show (I was the late-show pro­jec­tion­ist that night).

It was a sur­re­al movie, with a lot of dis­parate things going on, but by about 8:45pm, when I had to exit the the­atre, I felt like I had a han­dle on what was going on, and how things were going to tie togeth­er in the end. I knew I’d be able to watch the whole thing on Sun­day night, and test my theories.

(For those who have seen the movie, I left right around the time Bet­ty and Rita found the blue box.)

Well, Sun­day night I set­tled in and watched the movie start to fin­ish, and, uh…

Long sto­ry short, I had no idea. Short­ly after I’d left the the­atre on Sat­ur­day, every­thing changed. I still am not con­vinced I under­stand what was going on, despite hav­ing read many an arti­cle with titles like “What’s real­ly going on in Mul­hol­land Dr.” But what a ride it was.

Farewell, Mr. Lynch. We will not soon see your like again.

Hercules

A CC-130 Hercules airplane in a cloudy white sky.

I heard a loud air­plane engine, and I had my cam­era near­by. I stepped out on the deck and snapped a few pho­tos as a C‑130[1]Well, CC-130, since this is Cana­da, eh. Her­cules went ambling by.

Foot­notes

Foot­notes
1 Well, CC-130, since this is Cana­da, eh.

Book review: Absolution

Book cover: Absolution by Jeff Vandermeer

About 10 years ago I checked Jeff Van­der­meer’s nov­el Anni­hi­la­tion out of my local library. It was a short, weird sto­ry about the twelfth[1]Well, depend­ing how you count, as it turns out. expe­di­tion into a deeply weird place called Area X.

Area X is a sec­tion of Flori­da, the For­got­ten Coast, where some­thing has changed. Life­forms are mod­i­fied, some­times merged, some­times whol­ly remade; ghosts and dop­pel­gängers appear, both in Area X and back in the nor­mal world; time seems to move in dif­fer­ent ways once you’ve crossed the bor­der. There’s a tow­er that descends into the ground[2]Where lies the stran­gling fruit… and a light­house that I’m not sure any­one wants to go near. Anni­hi­la­tion was a dream­like expe­ri­ence, with the caveat that night­mares are also dreams.

Hav­ing read the first book, I read the sequels too: Author­i­ty is the sto­ry of a man code-named Con­trol, who is sent from Cen­tral to the South­ern Reach—the shad­owy gov­ern­ment enti­ty that super­vis­es explo­rations of Area X—to try to get the place back under, well, con­trol. It’s a spy thriller with a soupçon of body hor­ror and weird, in its own way, as Anni­hi­la­tion. The third book, Accep­tance, merges and extends the first two: Con­trol is now inside Area X, with some­one who might or might not be the biol­o­gist whose POV dom­i­nat­ed Anni­hi­la­tion, while oth­er chap­ters give us some insight into the for­ma­tion of Area X.

Now, ten years lat­er, Van­der­meer has writ­ten a fourth nov­el in the series, a pre­quel and cap­stone: Abso­lu­tion. And it’s good.

It’s essen­tial­ly three novel­las, inter­wo­ven togeth­er[3]Not unlike Gene Wolfe’s The Fifth Head of Cer­berus.. The first one is an explo­ration of the For­got­ten Coast, twen­ty years before Area X formed, fil­tered through a one-time Cen­tral oper­a­tive named Old Jim as he reads decades-old reports. Part two, eigh­teen months before the bor­der comes down, has Old Jim in the field, now with a young part­ner pos­ing as his estranged daugh­ter, work­ing as a dive-bar man­ag­er and dig­ging deep­er into the inter­lock­ing weird­ness­es hap­pen­ing on the For­got­ten Coast. The third sec­tion is the sto­ry of the very first[4]Well, apart from the chick­en. expe­di­tion to Area X, from the point of view of Lowry, who even­tu­al­ly becomes the direc­tor of the South­ern Reach.

Abso­lu­tion is a wild ride through a bur­geon­ing apoc­a­lypse, and it car­ries the same sense of dread I got from the extant tril­o­gy: This will not end well. There are numer­ous call­backs to the first three books, and while some mys­ter­ies might end up resolved, plen­ty more ques­tion are raised than are answered. A great many ques­tions may well be unanswerable.

If you’re look­ing for every­thing to be neat­ly tied up at the end, this isn’t the book for you, isn’t the series for you. If you’re look­ing for a spy thriller, an exis­ten­tial threat to the human race, a bunch of body hor­ror, and a stun­ning num­ber of F‑bombs[5]There were more fucks in the table of con­tents than in some nov­els., you’ll prob­a­bly enjoy this one. (You’ll prob­a­bly want to read the first three books first, though.)

I look for­ward to re-read­ing the whole saga in a few years. 

Foot­notes

Foot­notes
1 Well, depend­ing how you count, as it turns out.
2 Where lies the stran­gling fruit…
3 Not unlike Gene Wolfe’s The Fifth Head of Cer­berus.
4 Well, apart from the chicken.
5 There were more fucks in the table of con­tents than in some novels.

As if in a dream

fountain pen on notepad

I had a dream the oth­er night that I was writ­ing a sto­ry about a tow­er, a wood­en tow­er like you find in nation­al parks at scenic out­looks, but every step on it was a day. If you came down the stairs too quick­ly you’d find your­self back in time.

When I woke up I held onto it, tweaked it, made it more log­i­cal. I’ve start­ed on a first draft, because a gift in a dream is still a gift.

The tow­er had three hun­dred and six­ty-five steps, but one of them—it was nev­er clear to me which one—was about 25% high­er than the rest. My best friend Riley, who went miss­ing for a week and a half in the sum­mer­time and then showed up claim­ing he’d tripped on the way back down from the top, told me over pie and black cof­fee in the Chick­en Chef that I should always watch my step.

On the tow­er,” I said, “or everywhere?”

Every­where, but espe­cial­ly on the tower.”