The Star Online: Lifestyle: Bookshelf
The Star Online: Lifestyle: Bookshelf |
- Rest in peace, Damian Wayne
- Faint echoes of 1984 in The Disappeared
- Walk the mean streets on Hong Kong
| Posted: 10 May 2013 07:20 AM PDT The death of Damian Wayne a.k.a. Robin gives the character of Batman an extra, poignant dimension. A COUPLE of months ago (Feb 27 to be exact), Damian Wayne a.k.a. Robin died at the hands of his artificially aged clone, the Heretic, in Batman Incorporated #8. Why are we only talking about this now? Well, after recently watching Johnny Storm, Winter Soldier and Bruce Wayne resurrected in record time after their "deaths", you'll have to forgive us if we are a bit more cautious when reporting comic book deaths. Besides, we are dealing with the grandson of Ra's Al Ghul here, who has been resurrected quite a number of times via his Lazarus Pits before. To further justify my scepticism about Damian's death, his mother, Talia Al Ghul, previously saved him from certain death (in Batman #655-658) via the transplant of "harvested organs". In case your Batman diet is limited to the Christian Bale flicks, Damian is the son of Bruce and Talia, daughter of Ra's Al Ghul. While such a union between Gotham City's protector and an international megalomaniac's daughter may seem unlikely, it actually happened in the 1987 graphic novel Batman: Son Of The Demon. Following that unholy union, Talia gave our hero an offspring – a son he did not know existed until two decades later, our time (Batman #655). Throughout this period, there have been signs of Damian's rise to prominence and future inheritance of the Bat-mantle, but after his untimely death, it will probably take another Flashpoint-like reboot to reverse his passing. Anyway, now that the dust has settled (hopefully finally), let us pay tribute to Damian Wayne – probably the most eccentric Boy Wonder ever! Batman & Robin Annual #1 Writer: Peter J. Tomasi Artist: Ardian Syaf, Vicente Cifuentes DAMIAN stood out from the other Robins (Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake and even the only female one thus far, Carrie Kelley) mainly because of his birthright as a Wayne. Trained by the League of Assassins and possessing advanced engineering prowess (the flying Batmobile is testament to that!), Damian arrived at Wayne Mansion with excessive emotional baggage encased in a violent ego. While his early years in the Bat-family were overshadowed by his bickering with Tim Drake a.k.a. Red Robin, not to mention the ruthless manner in which he delivered justice, he showed tremendous improvement under the tutelage of Dick Grayson (who took over the Batman cowl in Bruce's absence) and over the past year with his dad. Batman & Robin Annual #1 completed Damian's ascension into a more humane, likable character, offering an offbeat adventure for the Waynes as Damian put his father's detective skills to the ultimate test via a three-day global scavenger hunt. While Damian's ultimate objective was to prove to his dad that he has been learning about his birthright, he also wanted to give Bruce a gift in the form of reconnecting with his non-crimefighting past. The hunt takes Bruce to London, Barcelona and Athens – places where significant milestones occurred during Thomas and Martha Wayne's early years together. While these are moments that Bruce and Talia never shared, Damian's success in reconstructing the moments is not only touching, but offers a rare look behind the Dark Knight's grim façade. Batman Incorporated #8 Writer: Grant Morrison Artist: Chris Burnham IF you read Batman & Robin Annual #1 before Damian's death, you would have cried out at the injustice of his subsequent death in Batman Incorporated #8. Here, his preference for his father's cause is viewed as traitorous by his mother Talia, who is so peeved by her son's betrayal that she puts a bounty on Damian's head and "replaces" him with an artificially aged clone called the Heretic. Fearing for his son's safety, Batman fakes his son's death, but Damian's persistence in addressing the problem directly leads to a duel to the death with his clone. There were two moments in this issue that I would deem as milestones in the Batman mythos. Firstly, his final conversation with Nightwing, in which he says, "So far, I'd say you've been my favourite partner. We were the best, Richard. No matter what anyone thinks." Then there was his final battle with the Heretic, where he was forced to go into "kill mode", while pleading to his mother to turn on the Heretic's "kill-save". Batman & Robin #18 Writer: Peter J. Tomasi Artist: Patrick Gleason AFTER Damian's death, Batman & Robin #18 captures the impact of his passing on Batman. The almost entirely wordless issue is a beautifully moving way of capturing just how both sides of Bruce Wayne's character cope with the loss of Damian. Interestingly, Bruce Wayne and Batman cope with the loss of a son and sidekick in contrasting fashion. As a father, he allows himself that rare moment to mourn, but when in crimefighting mode, he returns with a vengeance and takes out his grief on criminals in an extra brutal manner. But what makes this issue even more poignant are Damian's last words in his final message, "I want you to know that Mother may have given me life, but you taught me how to live." While we know that comic book deaths are only permanent when it comes to Uncle Ben and Thomas & Martha Wayne, for now, we shall play along with this epic Batman run which offered a new dimension to the character, that of a grieving father. Initially, I was sceptical about seeing the Dark Knight share his death-defying encounters with a 10-year-old egoistical punk, but the last year of reading about the change in Damian's behaviour certainly changed my mind about the character. Rest in peace, Damian Wayne. > Comics courtesy of Earth 638 (2nd Floor, Kelana Mall, Jalan SS6/12, Kelana Jaya, Petaling Jaya, tel: 03-78048380, e-mail: earth638@yahoo.com) |
| Faint echoes of 1984 in The Disappeared Posted: 10 May 2013 07:17 AM PDT What do you do when your world disappears from under your feet and no one knows your name any more? The Disappeared Author: C.J. Harper Publisher: Simon & Schuster, 376 pages THE cover photo and blurbs for this book are compelling. The cover, as you can see, is the image of a teenage boy's face – protagonist John Jackson, one presumes – made out of dozens of small mugshots, apparently sent in by the public. It is accompanied by a blurb that reads: "Deleted from the system, taken from everything you know, how would you survive?" I mean, who wouldn't be drawn in by that? So, kudos to the team that put it all together. However, the story itself was rather a letdown, in particular, the characterisation of Jackson, as well as the plot twist. Now, for those who like fast-paced stories, you might be interested to know that the action pretty much starts in the first few chapters. Jackson and his best friend, Wilson – both 16-year-old students at an elite school – have been sent to a factory block by one of their teachers, known as facilitators, to deliver a package. By the end of page 15, Jackson has been badly beaten up by two anonymous men and Wilson is dead. By page 32, we discover that Jackson's records have been deleted from his school's system, and the staff there claim they don't know him at all. In a social system where everyone has a place to fill and a job to do, Jackson, now known as Blake Jones, is dumped in an academy, a place where those with the lowest potential scores are sent to be trained as factory workers. Where brains and potential scores once mattered the most, now only a fight ranking and the colour of your hair indicate social status. Where food was once abundant and gourmet, now there each student is fed goop through dirty nozzles and, worse, sedatives every breakfast and lunch. Facilitators teach from behind the bars of a cage, and students are hooked up to EMDs that deliver electrical shocks whenever they displease their facilitators. Jackson naturally doesn't take any of this well and faces the expected problems fitting in. This is where first-time author C.J. Harper's lack of experience can be seen. It takes a very fine balancing act to allow a character to be arrogant and irritating yet still elicit the reader's sympathy. Harper doesn't walk this tightrope very well: Most of the time, I found Jackson to be immature, irritating and condescending, even when people were trying to help him. While he wasn't all bad, he didn't make me totally root for him either. Fortunately, Harper's creation of Kay, a tough girl who winds up befriending and helping Jackson, does much better and manages to balance some of Jackson's shortcomings. The dystopian future the story is set in is actually quite intriguing although rather underdeveloped despite Harper's decent efforts at providing relevant historical background. The social and political system actually brought to mind George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four. Not that you could even begin to compare the two books, but there are definitely echoes of the totalitarian ideology from that classic novel in The Disappeared. There is a revelation, of course, related to why anyone would want to "disappear" Jackson in the first place. Experienced readers might be able to make a fairly educated guess early on in the novel; certainly, for me, the twist just kind of fell flat. Similarly, a poignant moment involving a character who is obviously meant to be the plucky adorable one just didn't come off as well as it could and should have. The ending itself hangs a little because, yes, my friends, there is a sequel: The Wilderness, expected out next February. I won't be holding my breath waiting for it, though. I am going to make a rather strange recommendation, however. I think The Disappeared would actually make a decent, more entertaining and less heavy-going read for youths to prepare and introduce them to Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four. So, teachers and parents, you might want to take note of this book for that purpose. Otherwise, I feel there are better choices of dystopian future young adult books out there. |
| Walk the mean streets on Hong Kong Posted: 10 May 2013 07:22 AM PDT Dive into this unique perspective on a hard-boiled city. Hong Kong Noir Author: Feng Chi-shun Publisher: Blacksmith Books, 216 pages THE after-dark shot into a Kowloon City street from the lobby of a dilapidated old apartment block looks like a still from a 1970s grindhouse movie. Gratifyingly, Hong Kong Noir delivers on its cover's promise of pulpish thrills and chills. And much more – this collection of true-life yarns is written with verve and some very dark humour. Indeed, its most powerful sections recalls mid-period Stephen King. Through these "15 true tales from the dark side of the city", Feng Chi-shun demonstrates a keen sense of the macabre and a strong command of pacing, akin to the New England horror meister, and with more than a nod to the "dirty realism" and visceral intensity of another American-writer legend, the late short storyist Raymond Carver. In fact, Feng explained in a recent interview that he'd read a number of Carver titles in preparation for undertaking the writing of this collection. Hong Kong Noir has been a permanent resident of Hong Kong's top five bestsellers list of English-language titles since its December release, and so represents a second triumph for the writer, a native son of the city he depicts so vividly. Feng's previous bestseller was the marvellous Diamond Hill, a warm, sepia-tinted memoir of his formative years in a New Territories shanty town, where, in his words, "people were poor but life was rich". With his latest release, Feng has altered tonality – more shadow, less light in the chiaroscuro mix – without losing his story-telling chops or mastery of the confluence of time, place and mood. The writer is well-qualified to delve into the murk, and into the realm of real-life gore, having served for many years as one of the city's most senior pathologists. Overdose cases, murders, suicides, tragic accidents – he's seen it all. His current post-retirement occupation – he's a self-confessed bar fly – also clearly provided inspiration, insights and authenticity for this work. The common thread of Hong Kong Noir is failure – often so interesting in other people's lives, not so much in one's own – and Feng is evidently a keen observer of those spiralling downwards. Moreover he is adept at illuminating the factors that lead to the luckless – or just plain evil – low lifes, as they crash and burn, often inflicting horrific collateral damage on their way straight to hell. The stories here are divided into three sections: "Losers And Boozers", "Beyond Villains And Victims" and "Sex And The City". Some, as Feng explains in the Foreword, concern people he has personally known, others involve nefarious individuals whose crimes received such sensational and extensive local coverage that, with some informed conjecture, Feng is able to present plausible "how it probably unfolded"-style narratives. An example of the former is also one of the most moving. "Leaving Chungking Mansions" is the real story of "Clive" (not his real name), who was one of Hong Kong's expat pre-Handover civil servants. He enjoyed a pampered, moneyed lifestyle before Beijing replaced London in the scheme of things in 1997, but who swiftly afterwards went into an unstoppable decline – financially, medically, and spiritually. Feng gives the reader plenty of food for thought as he explains how Clive's mid-life decisions were his unmaking and how they ultimately led him to a Tsim Sha Tsui flophouse where "he checked in, and he never checked out". It's a morality tale of reduced circumstances, perhaps too close to home for many of Hong Kong's ageing Brits going to seed in the sub-tropics. "The World According To Ron" concerns another Hard-Luck Club member, whose life that could have unfolded rather less messily, again with some half-decent planning. The trouble with the perennially needy Ron is that he never really makes it out of adolescence. Although lazy, feckless, and irresponsible, however, there's something about the guy that keeps on making people want to help him. We've all known a Ron, and that's the beauty of this yarn. The real-crime narratives, such as "The Taxi-Diver From Hell", are truly nightmarish, reflecting the reality of the cases revisited. But they're treated in a manner that provides at least blurry insights into the banality of evil. Feng has conducted some deft connecting of the dots where there were gaps in the media coverage and public-domain records. It's also worth praising the neat sequencing of yarns. The stories of Hong Kong Noir ebb and flow and surge like the tracks on a classic 1960s rock'n'roll album. If Diamond Hill was Feng's Rubber Soul, this is his Let It Bleed. Finally: what an excellent title for this intriguing collection. Malaysia's cinematic neighbour across the South China Sea is one hard-boiled city. The rewards are magnificent as long as you don't lose the plot. But if you do, it's as suffocating as the Kowloon petrochemical smog during a heatwave. > Nick Walker is a Hong Kong-based author, literary critic and travel writer who covers this part of the world extensively. |
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