Sunday, January 1 1995
He has an honest passion about good animation: the classics such as Disney with its inventiveness and grace, Warner Bros. and Tex Avery and their inspired zaniness, while he also revels in the mind-blowing effects that can be achieved through the use of computers, eager to be witness to the next step in the evolution of animated films.
As readers we hope for the happy ending, the one where the power of such art and thought once again foments radical societal change. Quinn, however, is a realist. He knows that most revolutions take time.
The human mind loves making connections, sometimes organizing unlike data into nicely formed packets of sanity, other times tying ribbons upon packages of mayhem. Our minds also seem to search for the convenient shortcut, the Northwest Passage, the 'easy way out'. More often than not these packets and shortcuts lead to dead-ends, or mine fields laden with an ordinance of insanity and confusion.
Bruni's description of Bush paints a fragmented character who 'struck different poses at different times': the average student with a quick temper, prone to too much drinking and partying, who years later summoned enough ambition to win the race for governor of Texas, and whose loyalties lay with his family, pets, his beloved Texas ranch, baseball, and a slew of devoted friends who painstakingly championed his cause.
[Raymond Federman's] techniques seem to bring into question the 'truth' of the story . . . as well as allowing a lengthy discussion throughout the novel about the act of writing itself.
The story offered here is not just a depiction of idealists trying to change the world, but a convincing portrait of government repression in the United States, one which should not only enlighten readers about our country's past but make them look closer at the present.
Aylett's imagination is about as creative as anyone's in the business, and his ideas are fresh and full of potential. If only he had developed his characters and his story beyond the level of a cartoon, and toned down the smug, smart-ass prose, this book could have gone somewhere.
Place 'Adios Muchachos' alongside the work of John D. MacDonald, Carl Hiassen, and a good deal of Elmore Leonard, and it'll fit right in with those masters of incongruously sunny, quirky capers.
So, there I am, re-reading for the umpteenth time one of my favorite books of all time (Neuromancer) by one of my favorite authors of
Neil Gaiman has fashioned a new myth about modern Americans, a plot constructed of fragments of ancient tales woven into an original and vital drama... 'American Gods' is both complex enough to warrant serious critical analysis, yet with a stylistic simplicity and lightning-fast pace that will engross any reader.
The more new suburbanites and recreators understand the critters they share the world with, the better off all will be, humans and wild things alike. But armed with little more biology than what was required to get into medical school and Disney's disgusting diet of pabulum romanticism, educating the new suburbanite is an up hill battle.
It is a persuasive argument, an essay of sorts, explaining the fundamental compatibility of Islamic beliefs with those of Christianity.
The Anime Encyclopedia, A Guide to Japanese Animation Since 1917 by Jonathan Clements and Helen McCa
Then there's the one about the teenagers who get involved in corruption on a grand scale when one of them is slipped a computer disk in a Shinjuku club by someone whose life is just about to be terminated.
Updike's writing and vocabulary place him in rarified air with few peers. In verse, that talent and intellect are featured in what is perhaps their best arena, a place where his razor sharp wit, keen observational eye, and precise writing shine the brightest.
Zoolander's parody of the fashion industry is a pretty pointless endeavor, for the simple fact that ultimately, it parodies itself.
Y Tu Mamá También is all about how we shape the details of living, despite and because of this risk.
With 'Yi Yi', Edward Yang accomplishes what so few films (U.S.-made, in particular) even strive to do: present an earnest depiction of familial relations.
In fact, when Terry describes Scottsville as a town full of 'dull, narrow people... with no perspective, no scope,' he might have been describing the film's characters.
In 'The Yards', Mark Wahlberg again plays an emotionally damaged young tough, but this time his entire environment is orchestrated to reflect that character, dark, sad, and heavy with non-options.