From AMC’s smash hit television series The Walking Dead, to the movie Zombieland (and the upcoming film version of Max Brooks’ World War Z), flesheaters are everywhere. In fact, they’re so much everywhere that I’ve started worrying that zombies are reaching that too-much-of-a-good-thing spot that vampires reached right around the second Twilight book.

So, it was with some curiosity and a fair bit of skepticism that I read Colson Whitehead’s most recent book, Zone One. The story follows three days in the life of Mark Spitz (no, not that Mark Spitz), a survivor of a zombie apocalypse, who is working to help the government re-establish an outpost of civilization in lower Manhattan.

Spitz is employed as a “sweeper”, part of a team whose job it is to clean out straggler zombies from buildings in the Zone. Over the course of the novel, Spitz reflects on how he came to be there, his relationships with his teammates, the fall of modern civilization, and its prospects for rebirth.

Zone One, by Colson Whitehead

There are two types of zombies in Whitehead’s world: the vast majority are the mindless, ravenous hordes that we all know and love and the other are a rare type of “malfunctioning” undead. These poor creatures spend endless days repeating a single task from the fallen world: standing at a copy machine, pushing a broom around a room, holding a skillet in a long-unused kitchen. They don’t attack people and never even seem to notice them. It is these stragglers that Spitz is most interested in and curious about.

Whitehead is no hack “genre” writer either – his literary novels over the past decade have been critically well received and have even been finalists for prestigious awards, including the Pulitzer Prize. And, boy, can the man put a sentence together. (Of the sort that makes me despair as a writer, knowing that I’ll probably never write sentences that good.) Using power metaphors and allusions, Whitehead transforms the day-to-day drudgery of Spitz’s Zone One existence into something beyond a horror story. It is, in a way, horror literature.

In Zone One, Whitehead turns the view of the post-apocalyptic world back onto the trappings of our world and civilization – the technologies we take for granted, our attachment to material goods, and our societal preoccupations – and plays on our own desire to “chuck it all away and start over”. The scenes with the malfunctioning zombies, stuck in the pointless, repetitive lives are particularly well done. And through it, Spitz becomes sort of a 21^st century everyman who sheds the modern world, but doesn’t particularly mourn it.

The book is an engaging societal and human commentary, masterfully written against (and within) a now-familiar zombie apocalypse backdrop that manages something remarkable: a fresh take on a genre that I thought was getting stale.

Four stars out of five.

Home

There it was again.

She was perfectly still in bed and could hear the scratching – the rapid beats of thousands of tiny fingers across endless keyboards.

It’d started last week. She’d hear it in the small silences, but convince herself it was nothing. Her imagination. The brushing of branches. Perhaps a small leak.

It was not.

The tapping, chattering rhythms became louder. Became agitated. Angry.

She’d wished them away, and she’d put down the snapping traps and the tacky paper and the bitter poison.

And still they skittered. Still they ran within her walls and into her nightmares.

To her.

Our group was maybe 10 people and we were guided by our docent, Ed. (Like me, Ed is a New Jersey ex-pat, so we got along well.) The walk to the seal colony was maybe a mile or so, with some mild dune-climbing. Along the way, Ed told us about some of local history (like Año Nuevo Island used to be a point when it was discovered 400 years ago and is now and island). Along the way, we saw cool hawks and some bobcat tracks.

Wild!

I’m not so sure that “wild” is the right adjective for elephant seals. I suppose as the opposite of “domesticated” it’s appropriate, but certainly not as part of “… and crazy”.

Weaners

Federal law allows approach within 25 feet, though I don’t think the seals would have minded much if we got closer. Apparently, they’ve never developed a sense of wariness around humans, which is one of the reasons the species almost became extinct about 100 years ago.

The island used to have a foghorn and navigation light station, but when the seals moved in, the government moved out (perhaps the seals will give us a hand and move on to Sacramento and Washington…) and the colony breeds there and on the coastal beach.

Colony looking across to Ano Nuevo Island

It was great to see such giant creatures (up to 4000 lbs!) up close and doing what they do naturally. Generally, there’s not much activity – and I have to say that seeing these massive mammals just laying around in the sun made be feel better about my general inactivity and the few pounds I might have put on over the holidays.

Flipping sand

It wasn’t quite the time of year for the bulls to square off, so by far the biggest activity we saw was the activity around a pup birth (elephant seal females are almost constantly pregnant). We couldn’t really see the birth itself in the distance, but we could see a swarm of seagulls go diving in so that they could tear up and eat the nutrient-rich placenta. Yum.

Hanging out alone

All in all, it was a great way to spend a couple of hours learning about the region and our most excellent pinniped cousins that live there.

Because it’s a pretty big deal and fairly stressful, we often try to take a day or two afterwards for something fun and to give her a chance to unwind. For example, last year we went to Disneyland for a couple of days.

This year, the meeting was held in Santa Clara, so we decided to head over the coast range to, well, the coast for a few days of peace and quiet. We chose a resort near Año Nuevo State Reserve (first sighted by the Spanish > 400 years ago – around New Year’s Day, hence the name) that seemed to specialize in “down time” – no cell phones, no TVs, plenty of hiking and clean air.

Coastal Prairie

Often central California can be pretty wet in January, but we caught a serious break by having clear skies and temperatures in the upper 60s and spent a day hiking around Año Nuevo State Reserve – a gorgeous area of coastal prairie, rich in wildlife and native coastal grasses.  Just stunning.

Franklin Point

On our getaway day, we slowly drove up the coast, stopping in the small towns of Davenport and Pescadero and trying to decide if they could go on the “we could retire here” list. Along the way, we stopped at the Pigeon Point Lighthouse (named for the 19^th century ship, Carrier Pigeon which wrecked nearby) – the tallest lighthouse on the Pacific coast – and you know I like me a lighthouse.

Pigeon Point Lighthouse

Pigeon Point grounds

Finally, after passing through Half Moon Bay (which did not pass the retirement test), we angled back through the switchbacks of the coastal range again and headed to San Jose (we knew the way) and our flight home.

Sunset through the trees

After such a restful couple of days, maybe I’m ready to start this new year after all.

Blonde is a fictionalized biography (I suppose that you could refer to it as historical fiction) of that most famous of blondes, Marilyn Monroe. The book covers her life as the child of a mentally-ill mother, her time as an orphan, and her rise to celebrity. The book is presented as a first person recollection.

Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates

Oates’ Monroe is a dream-filled, naïve woman that only wants to do her best and seems as surprised as anyone by her own rise to stardom and is almost an innocent bystander in her descent into booze and drugs. Her most famous relationships – DiMaggio, Arthur Miller and Kennedy are obscurely referred to as “The Ex-Athlete,” “The Playwright,” and “The President” – and in many ways she is “The Famous Actress” – another shady nameless figure controlling her life.

The language and writing craft was all there, of course, but I’ve never been a big biography reader, and I’ve never been obsessed with Marilyn Monroe as many are. I’ve seen a couple of her movies, but never “got” the fascination. Maybe for these reasons, I never quite connected with Marilyn – or Norma – with the way that I have connected with Oates’ fictional creations.

Three stars out of five

Missing Mom was a novel written in the aftermath of Oates’ own mother’s death. In it, Nikki Eaton, a sexually promiscuous “free spirit” in her early 30s deals with the unexpected death of her mother, who was a pillar in her upstate New York town.

In Nikki and in Chataqua Falls, Oates returns to the types of characters and places that have defined so much of her writing. A somewhat directionless woman, who is often the object of others actions and priorities: her mother’s ministrations, her controlling sister’s judgments, her married lover’s availability.

Missing Mom by Joyce Carol Oates

Her mother’s death puts all of Nikki’s personal relationships into a crucible as she deals with her paralyzing shock and grief. And as Nikki evaluates those around her and herself, perhaps most importantly, she begins to consider how well she did (and did not) know her own mother.

It’s this aspect of the story – wondering how well can we know anyone: a parent, a sibling, a lover – that I found the most compelling. I found myself thinking of my own parents’ deaths. I think I knew my parents pretty well, but I certainly didn’t know them when they were in their 20s and 30s – what were their dreams and desires. In their retirement, I thought they were happy (mostly), but a book like this makes you wonder what unvoiced thoughts were there. A missed dream or a surprise joy.

Nikki Eaton was clearly a reflection of Oates’ own grief following her mother’s death, but the strength of the novel comes from her ability to become a lens through which we scrutinize our own ideas, feelings and assumptions.

Four stars out of five.

Thinking about it, I believe that this is a really good era for watching tv. Not just because I think there is more quality programming being made, but also because the advent of DVRs and streaming media has allowed viewers watch pretty much what they want, went they want it. Bored channel surfing is a thing of the past.

So, in an overall good year, what were my favorites? Well, as it turns out, all my favorites were freshman shows.

Homeland

Homeland (Showtime) There was no better show broadcast this year that Showtime’s taut terrorist conspiracy drama, Homeland. Claire Danes did a remarkable turn as Carrie Mathison – a brilliant (but bi-polar) CIA investigator, who suspects a long-thought dead rescued Marine (Damien Lewis) as an al-Qaeda mole. Whereas 24 fought terror with speed and action, Homeland approached the subject as a cat-and-mouse game between the good guys and the bad ones. And sometimes it wasn’t easy to tell which was which.  Good production values, excellent writing, top-notch acting and good storytelling built up to a riveting last couple of episodes. I hope the show-runners of The Killing were watching because Homeland demonstrated how you can have a show that is tense, thoughtful, emotional and satisfying without having a constant stream of red herrings.

American Horror Story

American Horror Story (FX) Who knew what to expect when Glee and Nip/Tuck creators Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk debuted their haunted house story this past fall? I sure didn’t. I got a lot more of Dylan McDermott than I wanted and no horror-movie staple was excluded. Creepy house? Check. Evil twins? Check. Crazy neighbors? Check. Vengeful spirits? Check. Demon baby? You got it. At first, I thought the show was going to spiral out of control, but they managed to hang it all together and build a (more or less) coherent thread that provided a high creep factor and a few great shocks. Again, kudos for having a single-season arc that came to a satisfying (if somewhat unconventional) conclusion.

Game of Thrones

Game of Thrones (HBO) In a world where fantasy is always measured against Tolkien, I was both excited and anxious about the tv adaptation of George RR Martin’s masterpiece, Game of Thrones (yes, by any standard the first book is a masterpiece, deal with it). Beautifully realized, the show did not shy away from the epic nature of the story, nor the gritty, violent, and uncompromising world it exists in. Stellar acting throughout propelled the story of the power struggle for the Seven Kingdoms, anchored by the wonderful performance of Sean Bean as the conflicted, honorable Ned Stark. The adaptation was largely true to the original material (shaving off some tangents but staying the course overall), and did not shy away from some of the toughest scenes – even if they made a number of people upset.

Each of these shows has a tall order to match the success of their initial seasons for sure.

A Life In Research

The door hissed closed behind him and he inhaled the conflicting odors of clean room and cage bedding. Disinfectant and dander.

Tiny nails raked plastic and dozens of eyes followed his movements as he set up his station. He opened the first lid and scruffed the initial specimen, immobilizing the creature – forelegs outstretched, head back, quivering mouth open, ready to take the dose.

Red eyes met hazel ones. The two most successful mammals on the planet: homo sapiens and rattus norvegicus, colonizing every corner of the globe together, billions upon billions with no sign of slowing down.

A great team.

But it seems sort of wrong NOT to have champagne on New Year’s Eve, or to drink it all myself, so I sought out a champagne-based cocktail that both The Beloved and I would like. What I decided on was: The Gentlemen

The Gentlemen

• Put about a teaspoon of brown sugar in a flute (a champagne flute, that is) and cover it with bitters.
• Add 1 oz cognac and 1/2 oz St. Germain
• Top with sparkling wine.

The Gentleman

The cognac and bitters added a nice balance to the sweetness of the champagne and the St. Germain added a nice floral touch. Given the fact that we each had several, I think The Gentlemen made a great impression on each member of the house and may get sparkling wine on the menu more often here in 2012.

Happy New Year!

Many people will right “Best of 2011” lists for many things, but claiming something is “best” suggests that you’ve made a pretty serious survey of what was produced this year. I certainly can’t claim that sort of coverage at all, so I’m going to keep my lists as “Favorites”.

For books, it was a pretty good year for me. I finished 40, which is up from my 2009 high of 37. I was also pretty pleased with the quality of the books I read this year. Very few clunkers – which is something I attribute to paying more attention to book bloggers’ I trust reviews and recommendations. So, good job you guys, keep up the good work.

My favorites:

When The Killing's Done

When The Killing’s Done, by T.C. Boyle. This story of the struggle between two factions trying to control the animal populations on the fragile ecosystem of the Channel Islands off California was far and away my most memorable book this year. Part adventure story, part policy debate, Boyle doesn’t give anyone an easy out from a messy situation and doesn’t dictate who’s right and who’s wrong, leaving that up for the reader to ponder. (Original Review)

The Year of the Flood, by Margaret Atwood. This is the very rare sequel that I think surpasses the original. Set in the same terrible about-to-collapse society as her stellar book Oryx & Crake, this story follows the survival of two women before, during and after a bio-apocalypse. This book is more human than its predecessor, (which did a phenomenally terrifying job of world-building and destroying) and populated with characters that I ended up caring about. At times thoughtful and at times action-packed, it’s a great great read. (Original Review)

The Leftovers by Tom Perotta

The Leftovers, by Tom Perotta. I expected to enjoy Perotta’s take of suburban life after the occurrence of a Rapture-like event. I thought it was going to be a snarky skewering of holier-than-thou right wingers, but was surprised to find it a thoughtful and occasionally moving examination of loss, grief and the mechanisms we all use to “move on” after tragedy. Don’t get me wrong, it was still clever and wry, but I didn’t expect the depth I found within it. (Original review)

If there are three books this good awaiting me in 2012, it will be a great year.

How about you? What were your favorites?

I received one like that this year: a copy of Poets & Writers magazine. Now, I consider myself a “writer” in the same way I consider myself a “musician”. Still, writing, like playing the piano, is something that I enjoy.

The main feature of the issue was a set of essays on “Inspiration” – where it comes from, or doesn’t. What it feels like. Ways that “we” as writers might stack the deck in our favor so that it comes to roost more often.

I think my favorite was a piece by Frank Bures entitled “Inner Space: Clearing Some Room for Inspiration” which described something that I think we all (writers or not) are dealing with: how to manage and thrive in a world where we are constantly being barraged by gigabytes of data through our computers and phones. And how that to be creative (or finish any task really), it is beneficial to have a workplace that is free from distraction.

Overloaded

Easy to say, but so difficult to put into practice. For me, the true digital danger is what I’ve come to think of as Compulsively Needing to Remove Numbers in Parentheses Complex.

I can’t imagine I’m the only one with this disorder. If you’re like me, when you’re at the computer you have a number of tabs open – email, RSS feed, twitter, etc. – and when a new message or update comes in there’s a little number in parentheses telling you that you have something unread. To me, and my OCD-leaning brain, these numbers have to get cleared away. And then it’ll be better. Erased. Neat. Tidy. Gone. Even if I have to stop doing what I’m currently doing, because you know, it will only take a couple of seconds, right?

How many times do I interrupt something (reading, writing, conversing) to “just check” those feeds? Because you know those little encapsulated numbers might be the harbinger of SOMETHING REALLY IMPORTANT – or at least something sort of funny. Of course, each one of these “just checks” means you have to re-boot your attention to the task that you were supposed to be focused on. Bures’ article makes it clear that our seamless access to these feeds is not a bad thing at all – it really is a modern wonder – but that it is best if there are times to “gather information” (i.e. surf) and times to shut the feeds off.

CNRNPC

So, I think my New Year’s Resolution will be to take control of my CNRNPC. I will configure my workspaces such that feeds (and their parenthetical distractions) won’t be seen and that they can come out only during free times, breaks, and when other tasks have been completed.

Maybe for many of you, that goes in the “Duh” department because it’s so obvious, but I think this simple exercise will increase both my productivity and who knows, maybe even find me inspired a little more often .