Cormac McCarthy's The Road: A grim yet rewarding journey

As I've mentioned in past posts, I'm a fan of the post-apocalyptic genre, but not for any perverse voyeurism derived from watching the chaos and violence associated with the end of the world (although Mad Max and its ilk are quite fun). Rather, it's the unique set of existential situations and circumstances of the genre--nuclear war, zombie invasions, climate crisis, food and fuel shortages, etc.--that, in the hands of a talented author, illuminate truths about human nature and make for great reading.

Cormac McCarthy's The Road is a fine example of a novel that uses the stage of a post-nuclear holocaust to say something meaningful. The Road is set in a world of bitterly cold nuclear winter and billowing ash, sparsely peopled with cannibals and scavengers. Cities are charred remains and homes in the suburbs are rotting and collapsed from decay. There is little to no hope for long-term survival of the human race in this dying world.

But in contrast with the bleakness and darkness I experienced while reading The Road, the good things in my life seemed all the brighter. The Road made me appreciate friends, family, and companionship, these lights we have in our own lives against the dark unknown at the end of the tunnel (and ones that we often take for granted).

Imagine what it would be like as a middle-aged man to try and survive in a world that is always cold, where gray, dirty snow falls constantly from the sky, where homes and buildings have been picked clean of food, and where survivors have resorted to cannibalism. In the midst of this, you have a 10 or 12 year-old son (his age is never revealed) who depends upon you for survival. You are literally his lifeline. You have a disease that makes you cough up blood with no hope for a cure. You're largely helpless to stop your son from shivering in the cold, wasting away from hunger, or giving in to despair. Using stark, simple, declarative language reminiscent of Hemingway, McCarthy thrusts the reader into this world. It's grim and unrelentingly awful.

So why read on? Well, as a father with two young children I can sympathize very strongly with the man's plight. His simple love for his boy keeps him going when suicide seems a better option. He carries a gun with two bullets left, and if found by scavenging cannibals, his plan is to use one bullet for his son and the last for himself. He wonders whether he'll have the courage to do so. The boy and his father sustain themselves with each other, and constantly tell each other that they're the good guys, and that they "carry the fire," a small, flickering flame in a world of cruel darkness.

I won't spoil the ending of The Road, but there's a lot going on under its simple surface. McCarthy explores the father-son relationship, faith in God, our curious need to cling to hope in a life that seems devoid of it, growing up and moving on, and coping with death. As you can imagine it's not a fun or particularly easy read, but it's a novel I couldn't put down, and when it was over I hugged my daughters a little bit tighter and felt a little more appreciative for what I have.

Any book that evokes such emotions is a good one in my mind. At times The Road seems to strike a repetitive note, retreading on ground it has already covered. But overall I give it a very solid 4 1/2 out of 5 stars.

The Rime of the Aging Metalhead: A review of Iron Maiden in East Rutherford, 3/14/08

(Photo caption: From left to right, Dan, 29, Scott, 36, and 34-year-old me flash devil horns and metal faces while carrying home-baked muffins, cookies, and ear plugs).

An alternative name for my March 14, 2008 review of Iron Maiden at the Izod Center in East Rutherford, NJ might as well be called "Confessions of an Aging Heavy Metal Fan."

This was the seventh time I've seen the Gods of Metal and the two guys with whom I attended the show were both Maiden virgins (readers of The Silver Key will recognize Scott from "Scott's thoughts,", a post which landed him instant celebrity in his own mind). I'm proud to say I was with them as they broke their Maiden cherry. The photo I've embedded here is of the three of us before we headed out the door with metal in our hearts and baked goods in our hands.

While I'm not that old (34, to be exact) we had a good laugh that night at how much the concert experience has changed over the years. At past metal shows my friends and I have been known to pick up a 30-pack of beer beforehand and pound 6-8 beers in the parking lot. The object of course is to get buzzed, act a bit stupid, and save a few bucks on the ridiculously overpriced beer in the arena.

But times have changed. At my request, I brought my first pair of earplugs to the show courtesy of Scott. I've never worn hearing protection to a concert, but after my last show (Queensryche at the Hampton Beach Ballroom Casino, a small and very loud club) I had trouble hearing for four days afterwards, which left me a bit nervous that the ringing would continue forever. I've put my ears under a lot of duress over the years at many heavy metal shows and this time I decided to take appropriate countermeasures.

In and of themselves the earplugs weren't that bad, but combined with the next item--a batch of home-baked chocolate chip cookies in a ziplock bag, lovingly packed by Scott's wife--we had officially crossed the line from uncool to completely lame. The three of us joked about trying to smuggle the cookies into the show and getting busted by security ("Sir, you'll have to check those at the door. Cookies of any sort are not allowed in the Izod Center") but we opted for discretion over valor and left them in the car. You can see the offending cookies in the picture above, as well as my blue earplugs. Ah well. On to the review.

To begin with, I was shocked to see that Izod was sold out. Reportedly this place seats 20,000, and while some seats are blocked out for concerts, it was, in fact, sold out. We had nosebleed seats and a fine view of the whole arena, and there were no empty seats. Not a bad turnout for a heavy metal band with roughly 30 years under its belt. It's another testament to the enduring legacy of Iron Maiden and heavy metal as a genre of music, critics be damned.

Iron Maiden is, in my humble opinion, the greatest heavy metal band of all time and this show again reaffirmed why. This tour showcased three of Maiden's best and most popular albums from their "golden" period (Powerslave, Somewhere in Time, Seventh Son of a Seventh Son), which made up the bulk of the setlist and the backdrops/props on the stage. The setlist was as follows:

Introduction (Transylvania/Churchill's speech)
Aces High
2 Minutes to Midnight
Revelations
The Trooper
Wasted Years
The Number of the Beast
Run to the Hills
Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Powerslave
Heaven Can Wait
Can I Play With Madness?
Fear of the Dark
Iron Maiden

Encore
Moonchild
The Clairvoyant
Hallowed Be Thy Name

Overall, its a great setlist and one for which I have only minor complaints. I would have much preferred another song or two off Somewhere in Time, an album that always seems to get the short-shrift by Maiden. Stranger in a Strange Land, Sea of Madness, or Alexander the Great would have been appreciated. Also, Can I Play With Madness, a good, catchy song on CD, simply does not come across well in concert and it again garnered little fan reaction. I would have preferred my favorite track from Seventh Son, The Evil that Men Do, in its place, but Maiden has played the heck out of that song in concert so I can't complain too much.

Maiden sounded awesome (no surprise there), the stage looked great, and Bruce was again in top form, both vocally and physically. Bruce is just about to hit 50 and yet he flies around like a man half his age. He was also having a great time and had no angry rants or disparaging remarks as he's occasionally want to do in concert. He commented that the band was here back in 1985 playing to a sold-out crowd, and here it was, 23-odd years later, with another sold-out show. Again, amazing.

Highlights for me included the following:

The Introduction. Transylvania really gets the heart pounding, and nothing beats hearing 20,000 or so fans in speaking along in unison with Winston Churchill during his famous Battle of Britain speech. The place exploded when Maiden ripped into Aces High.

Moonchild. Dave Murray brought out his acoustic guitar for the "Seven Deadly Sins, Seven Ways to Win," lead-in, and he and Bruce hammed it up a bit. Very nice touch, and the rest of the song kicked ass as well.

Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Hearing this live was worth the price of admission alone. Maiden broke out the smoke effects and lowered the lights circa Live After Death for a great visual look. Bruce lurked about the stage in some sort of a black cloak and really nailed this one vocally, Steve shined on bass, and the band positively exploded with force after the slow, melodic break in the middle of the song. I had chills after this one.

Powerslave. Another song that was great live, Dave ripped through a great solo in the middle, and best of all Bruce broke out the Horus "owl" mask circa Live After Death. An amusing and fun old-school touch.

The Trooper. Bruce wearing the British cavalryman's coat and waiving the union jack will never get old.

Some other funny tidbits from the show:

Fathers and sons (and daughters). Maiden has now been around long enough that longtime fans (myself included) have settled down with families and children. I saw at least 8-10 dads with youngsters as we walked into the show and more inside, some as young as 7-8 years of age. A bit young in my opinion to bring to a loud metal show and I hope these dads were packing ear protection for their kids. Bruce commented about seeing generations of fans in the audience and it certainly was true.

Guy with mullet and leather pants. Crowd watching is always a fun part of attending metal shows, and the best/oddest sight was a guy in his late 4os/early 50's with a full-blown greying mullet and leather pants. He looked like he stepped out of a Whitesnake video and into the New Jersey night.

Guy with Manowar backpatch. In a night with many denim jackets with backpatches and buttons, this was the best of the lot. I give the guy credit for having the balls to wear this, but the question I continue to ponder is: Do these people wear this stuff outside of metal concerts, or do they keep the acid-washed jeans and black leather vests in mothballs until metal shows roll through? Half of me wanted to high-five the guy for sticking to his guns and wearing a rhinestone-studded Manowar back-patch in public, but the other half of me felt like telling him that 1985 was a long, long time ago.

In the end I managed to somewhat shake the old fogey image, buying two beers (at $7.25 each) and leaving the earplugs in my pocket. I didn't wind up needing them as it wasn't that loud. But don't tell my wife, she'll kill me.

And I'll be damned if those cookies didn't taste like manna from heaven on the way home. The only thing missing was the milk.

...things are awful quiet around here

So in case you've noticed I haven't been posting much on The Silver Key the last couple days. It's not because I've lost interest or run out of things to say (quite the contrary--in fact, I'm just getting started), or because Gary Gygax's death stunned me to silence (although it did, for a good solid 24 hours), but it's because I'm currently working on an exciting bit of writing for an honest-to-goodness print publication. I want to write it as best as I can in the hopes it gets accepted.

I expect I'll be at this project for at least a couple more days, after which you'll be getting a lot more hot air from The Silver Key.

A legend is gone

T'was a sad day for me and the roleplaying community in general: Gary Gygax, co-founder of Dungeons and Dragons and the father of role-playing games, passed into the west at the age of 69.

The role-playing boards I frequent, including EN World, RPGnet, and Dragonsfoot, are full of threads about his passing. As I read them, I was struck at how many people this man touched. More than once I felt my eyes sting with tears.

My brush with the man came not in person--and I'm kicking myself hard for not making it to Gencon and shaking his hand--but over e-mail. Back on January 12, 2002, I sent Gary the following message. It sums up pretty much the impact D&D has had on my life:

Gary,

As a longtime (18 years or so) player of Dungeons and Dragons, I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for creating the hobby that has been such a rewarding part of my life. I came across your name on the EN World boards and felt compelled to write.

D&D introduced me to a great new bunch of friends; it got me to read, inspired me to write (and think) creatively. I can't begin to tell you how many times I've referenced and read the old DM's guide, Player's Handbook and Monster Manual. Though AD&D has given way to new editions, I still turn to those great old tomes for inspiration and wonderful memories. In my opinion, they are still the best books the hobby has ever produced.

And your modules, especially the Against the Giants--Drow--Demonweb series, are still unsurpassed. I plan on converting them for 3E and running them for my current group. They will last forever.

Again, I thank you for your creative vision, and the courage to launch a hobby that has stood the test of time, the computer age, and even misguided religious fervor. You've made millions of people happy.

Brian Murphy

I honestly expected no reply, but just wanted to thank him for his labors in the hobby that he, for all intents and purposes, created. But, shock of all shocks, less than two hours later I recieved this reply:

Shucks, Brian...

Okay, thanks for those good words. You know I had a lot of fun both in writing and playing OA/D&D too, of course. Fact is, my love for writing and games burns as brightly as it did back in 1970 when I cut loose from the world of suits and "other business" to concentrate on what I wanted to do (^_^).

Come on back anytime,

Gary

I will save and treasure this simple message from Gygax, a man who changed my life for the better. I only wish I could break out a game of AD&D first edition tonight--perhaps the Tomb of Horrors--and honor him with a proper tribute.

But in the meantime, God speed Gary. I raise a tankard of ale in your honor.

A Wizard of Earthsea: A review

The finest fantasy fiction isn't necessarily that with the most detailed worlds, the biggest and bloodiest battles, the flashiest magic, or the most terrifying beasts. Instead, the best fantasy (like all great literature) has something profound to say. And A Wizard of Earthsea and its sequels certainly fit that description.

At the time I read it, A Wizard of Earthsea was unlike any other fantasy I'd encountered up until that time. Short, especially for a fantasy novel (182 pages in paperback), it centers around a young wizard named Ged as he matures from a boy into a man and learns the secrets of true knowledge. It and its sequels are quiet, thoughtful, and deep, and whatever they lack in action they make up for it with much to say about growing up, finding meaning, and confronting and living with death. Author Ursula LeGuin is an acknowledged great in the fantasy/science fiction genres and deserves that praise for the wisdom she confers through the Earthsea stories.

At the outset of A Wizard of Earthsea we're introduced to Ged, the son of a metalworker living a poor farmer's life on the isle of Gont. But Gont is known for its wizards, and Ged is destined to become the greatest of them all. He shows early promise when he helps save his village from a band of viking-like marauders by weaving a sorcerous mist, and in so doing attracts the attention of Ogion, the isle of Gont's resident sorcerer. Ged leaves home to train under Ogion but chafes under the taciturn wizard, who teaches the values of silence, patience, and humility instead of flashy displays of magic. With the impatience of youth, Ged leaves Ogion's tutelage to train in a wizard school on the isle of Roke (and yes, author J.K. Rowling acknowledges the debt her Harry Potter books owe to Earthsea, which was written in 1968).

It's a decision that will ultimately come to haunt Ged and provide the impetus for the remainder of the story. In the wizard's school Ged learns quickly, growing in leaps and bounds beyond the ability of his older classmates. But he is ultimately undone by his greatest weakness: Pride. Jasper, an elder classmate and rival, dares Ged to enter into a forbidden contest of magic in which Ged summons a spirit of the dead. The spirit, a shadow from the netherworld, attacks and nearly kills the young wizard, tearing into his face with his claws and leaving even deeper wounds upon his soul.

Ged eventually recovers but is left scarred and broken from the experience, and the rest of the tale is about his long road back to redemption/wholeness and his passage into maturity.

The shadow, a creature called a gebbeth, hunts Ged ceaselessly thereafter and he flees before it in mortal fear. But after a series of adventures Ged returns to Ogion and learns that his only chance is to confront the gebbeth and best it, or die trying. Says Ogion:

You must turn around... if you keep running, wherever you run you will meet danger and evil, for it drives you, it chooses the way you go. You must choose. You must seek what seeks you. you must hunt the hunter.

In other words, Ged must learn to conquer his fears (of mortality, of past failures, of assuming the heavy mantle of power/leaving behind his boyhood and its freedoms) by doing what most of us fear and never truly accomplish: Take an honest look at ourselves in the cold, harsh light of truth, confront our past, accept responsibility for our mistakes, and grow.

Ged pursues the shadow to the literal edge of the world, beyond the easternmost islands to the open sea. Far more than a wizard vs. monster confrontation, Ged's showdown with the gebbeth is the culmination of a spiritual quest, and the shadow he confronts is the blackness of his own soul. It's a bitter battle and one he expects to lose, but he grimly presses on.

When Ged "wins" the conflict and his friend, the wizard Vetch, sees his his friend freed from his inner darkness, "weeping like a boy," its a truly great moment in fantasy literature. Ged has achieved inner peace, struck a balance between darkness and light, and realizes that he can live with the ultimate knowledge of his own death:

And he began to see the truth, that Ged had neither lost nor won but, naming the shadow of his death with his own name, had made himself whole: a man: who, knowing his whole true self, cannot be used or possessed by any power other than himself, and whose life therefore is lived for life's sake and never in the service of ruin, or pain, or hatred, or the dark. In the creation of Ea, which is the oldest song, it is said, "Only in silence the word, only in dark the light, only in dying life: bright the hawk's flight on the empty sky."

WHOA-OA! Run from the valley of the evil witch

Here's a nifty little Web site that should bring a grin to fans of the immortal Ronnie James Dio: The Ronnie James Dio Lyric Generator.

Give it a try (that's how I got the title of this post) and let me know what the power of the Ronnie James Dio Lyric Generator conjured up for you.

Presenting...Scott's thoughts

So a couple weeks back, I happened to e-mail a buddy of mine named Scott (last name withheld to protect the innocent) with the news that I started a blog. His reaction was:

"Hey, that's interesting. What the hell is a blog?"

Then, after I explained to him what a blog is (basically a place to blow gas online), and he read through some of my posts, he said, "Hey, I'm still not quite sure what a blog is but I have to say you must have a tremendous amount of time on your hands. Maybe you could help out around the house more. Your writing is very impressive though. You should write a book or something. Maybe Fantasy for Dummies. Or The idiots guide to living in your mothers basement."

Eventually he came around to the idea of blogs and asked if I could post something he wrote. So without further ado, I present to you, Scott's thoughts. And if you like them (or would like to let him have it for slagging KISS), please let him know.

And Scott, I'm still waiting for that post about The Kipper.

Top 3 Arnold movies
1. Conan: Gay as it sounds, you can't keep your eyes off of him. James Earl Jones as a snake is cool too.
2. Predator: The quotable lines are endless. We spent months quoting this in college
3. Terminator: Arnold is such a bad ass in this movie

Top 3 Stallone movies
1. First Blood: Great story. Brian Denahey is awesome
2. Cliffhanger: Fantastic climbing sequences. Lithgow is great bad guy
3. Rocky III: I know part 1 is a better movie but I want fight scenes. You get Thunderlips and two Mr. T fights

Top 3 Metal albums
1. Operation--Mindcrime: I don't listen to it as I use to but this one blew me away when I first heard it in college
2. Tyranny of Souls: Dickinson's best solo work. Maiden should kick out Janick Gers and get Roy Z
3. Any Kiss album: I honestly can't tell one song from the next. They are all equally terrible