Dave | unobtrusive lucidity

A Review of “JLA: Liberty and Justice”

Let’s get in the way-back machine (well, the sort-of-way-back machine…okay, the one-decade machine, and you can decide whether or not that’s way-back) and talk about a one-shot that Paul Dini and Alex Ross offered, “JLA: Liberty and Justice for All.” This is an over-sized (by that I mean physical page size, not book length…you can easily read this in a sitting) graphic novel that grabbed my attention from the shelves of my local library. This is one of a few over-sized graphic novels to Ross’ credit, and my first real experience with his art, which feels much more like a sequential painting that normal comic book art. This book truly shines because of the art: Aquaman’s face, Batman’s cloak, Wonder Woman’s presence, Hawkman’s and Hawkgirl’s wings as they are in flight. I’ll be the first to say that some of the portrayals of the heroes’ faces aren’t particularly to my liking (Superman looks too old, Green Lantern too conservative), but this is a matter of preference that shouldn’t eclipse the fact that the art in this book is absolutely breathtaking. The final panel in which Superman and the Martian Manhunter hover over the Earth keeping watch is alone worth reading this.

To be fair, I’ve read other reviews that criticize the writing for plot inconsistencies. My primary negative reaction to the writing is the lack of inventiveness in some of the action sequences, an occasionally the dialogue could be more natural, to fit the realistic images of our heroes in the artwork. What I admire in the plot, though, is the fact that it explores important themes about super hero mythology. As hysteria about an alien plague begins to sweep over the world, rioting and chaos break out. The Justice League is forced to turn their powers against those that they have protected before in order to keep peace, and, while they are not violent, the writer explores the public’s feeling of betrayal and stunned silence as the superhuman powers of the Justice League are suddenly not between them and danger, but rather turned toward them. All of us who were “good kids” in school remember the unease as the teacher’s glare was turned upon us for the first time.

As the heroes stand at their press conference to defend their actions, Dini does a fantastic job of making the reader want to take their side, but feel uneasy doing so. In the spirit of another great graphic novel, I found myself thinking during the Manhunter’s closing address, “but who watches the watchmen?”

Superheroes are the powerful, the ones who stand against the evil that we cannot hope to resist ourselves, selflessly acting in our defense when we need them most. That mythology falls apart when their power is turned against us instead, and so that is our tension: we want the heroes to save us, yet we fear of what they are capable should they choose to act selfishly, to cross the line between hero and villain. What Dini does so powerfully here is to underscore that that line…the very definitions of “hero” and “villain”…can be subjective.

Keep in mind, for those of us familiar with the stories, that this is a stand-alone book, outside of the canon of the regular DC story arcs. This book is worth the read for anyone remotely interested in superhero tales and what they mean to the human experience. Any reader will appreciate the themes that are explored in this book.

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2014? When Did That Happen?

Remember some time ago when I talked about how I needed a marker for when one year passed to the next?

The last hours of 2013 were marked by sitting on the sofa with Karen after our daughter was in bed, watching a movie that we have seen numerous times (the fact that it was one of the original Bourne films, it occurs to me, is perhaps ironic considering I reviewed the latest film in the series soon after New Year’s Day in 2013), and allowing maintenance staff for our apartment building in and out in order to coordinate some sort of repair involving a sink and backed-up water in the apartment below us.

I realized that it was 2014 as some fireworks went off outside (New Hampshire is apparently really, really into fireworks). Then I went back to reading as the movie concluded. And, that was pretty much it. No ball dropping, Karen had gone to bed already, no family, no celebrating. Me, a movie, and a good book.

So…I’m old, I guess.

Or, maybe just tired. The thing is, I’m sort of sad that I didn’t really mark the passing of one year to the next, because there’s much to be said for the observance of new beginnings, if for no other reason than the power of hope and possibility. I’m certainly the poorer for not marking that somehow this year. I think that much of the reason is because Karen and I are still settling back into life after an insanely chaotic year of being a full-time student, followed by a career shift that has taken every spare second of my time, it seems, for the eight months following school. The proverbial dust is settling now, however, and I’m already making strides toward the new year. How do I know? I bought a book today, and I read this evening. I haven’t had time to sit down with a novel in…well, I don’t want to contemplate how long it’s been, and I was beginning to come a little unglued over it. I feel as though I’ve become re-acquainted with an old friend. I also see writing time in my future…like actual writing time to finish the novel that I began before our daughter was born and that I’ve put on hold for a year now.

All of these things together would, I’m sure, mark some sort of progress in the goals that I wrote about last year. I’ll let you go back and look at those and make that judgement if you feel so inclined. I’m going to just roll with things this year, as it’s been disconnected anyway. I know, however, that 2014 is going to bring great things.

I know it.

May your endeavors meet with success and your life be blessed in the 364 days ahead.

And next year, I’m going to be more intentional about this.

The Christmas Spirit in Gate B2

"Indianapolis #1" by Claire P. (_rockinfree) used under Creative Commons

Karen and I travel a significant distance for one of the two winter holidays each year. We’ve kept this pattern in some form or other since we’ve been married, as a way to make certain both ends of the family are allotted equivalent time. The issue that we encounter is that traveling in the winter is, well…interesting. Each year promises to be unpredictable…it could be a smooth travel experience (one year was eight hours flat, from the time we walked into the airport until the time we set our bags down on the floor of the guest room), or it could be an insanely frustrating experience, such as the time we sat in an airport terminal for seven hours waiting for a “ground stop” to be lifted.

This year we booked an early flight, keeping the entire departing trip scheduled around our daughter’s nap routine. Had everything run anything close to smoothly, we would have been putting her into the rental car just in time for her to snooze away the last leg of the journey. Instead, we encountered one of those travel days…

After waking up ridiculously early to catch our first flight, we had to wait for de-icing (hooray for living in New England). That was just enough of a delay to find out that the airport where we were connecting had issued a “ground stop” (a traveler’s tip…when you hear those words, you are hopelessly, hopelessly screwed). Eventually, that flight was cancelled. After being re-booked, we were still sitting in the origin airport when our daughter should have been napping, only to find out our re-booked flight was delayed. We were told we could still make our connector after arriving at a new connecting airport with 20 minutes to spare…except that a flight ahead of us apparently experienced an emergency and had to be landed before everyone else, which resulted in our having ten minutes to walk several gates away, take a shuttle, walk several more gates…we didn’t make it. We thus re-booked again, and instead of arriving at any sort of sane time, we arrived at midnight.

That, dear reader, would cause the most saintly among us to have a short temper.

During two of our many layovers, though, some cool things happened. Another family who was awaiting a delayed flight was traveling with three children, who began playing ball at the gate. Our daughter joined in, and had great fun. Even though she’s barely able to understand the concept of throwing a ball at this point, let alone the mechanics, she thoroughly enjoyed the experience of playing with the other children.

While waiting in the gate for our final flight of the day, two other children came up to introduce themselves to our daughter. They were much older than she, but there were no other children in the terminal, and they were looking for a playmate with which to pass the time. My wife got involved, as did a college student who was already waiting when we arrived, and soon there was a full-on game of duck-duck-goose in the middle of the gate. At first, people seemed uncomfortable with it. Slowly, though, a crew member who looked like he was finished for the day and flying as a passenger began smiling, Then a guy in a Marines t-shirt smiled. The smiles were contagious, and loosened everyone’s mood (we were far from the only delayed travelers that day). Even I was less grumpy afterward. There was innocence in that terminal again, a sense of merriment as we waited for yet another delayed flight, a pervasive sense that even the most frustrating of circumstances would be overcome by this season that we hold so dear.

Christmas was an odd experience this year…as we fall back into what was our normal family holiday rhythm after a chaotic year, there were a lot of things that were comfortingly normal, and others that were oddly out of place or accidentally overlooked. What seemed most profound about my Christmas week, though, was the feeling of watching my wife and daughter and a group of complete strangers disrupt the tense atmosphere of an airport terminal with the laughter and all-around noise of a children’s game. There was something pure about that, even holy, perhaps. Christmas truly began for me in that moment.

I hope that, whenever yours began, it has been blessed.

Photo Attribution: _rockinfree under Creative Commons

A Tribute to a Blanky

‘Tis the season for…well, the season for stuff, all too often. This is the time of year, after all, in which we collect seemingly endless amounts of stuff. Often, I think that stuff is intended to be used as a coping skill. We cling to certain things, because they make us feel more comfortable, more safe in certain situations. When life becomes stressful or out of control, we find that item that makes us feel safe and hold onto it.

Not all stuff is needless accumulation, though. I’m reminded of that, as well, as I look around at our Christmas decorations. Our tree is decorated almost exclusively with ornaments from our past adventures, both in our life together and before we met, and it’s a very important and spiritual experience for me to reflect on that. I have a small porcelain Christmas tree that my mother gave to me as a gift when I was young, and this will be passed on to our daughter. It has no financial value to speak of, but a huge value in the fact that it reminds me of my mother and, as we age and she will eventually pass on, it will become even more valuable…I hope even to our daughter’s children.

While I don’t believe in accumulating stuff, I do think that it’s important to have and hold onto those sorts of important items in life. They serve as markers for us to focus on important things.

Our daughter started early in that regard.

When we were expecting, one of Karen’s co-workers knit a blanket for our daughter. The blanket had a pattern in it that equals 42, because we’re geeks and that, after all, is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. Karen thought it would be a really cool idea to have a second blanket, a sort of substitute in case the main blanket got dirty and needed washed, and her co-worker generously made a second, smaller version, this one without the special pattern, but otherwise a smaller duplicate of the first blanket.

Our daughter slept with them from the day she joined us, and they became her security. She clung to them as she learned to calm herself after being upset. They have affectionately become known as Tiny Blanky and Big Blanky. We developed a system: Big Blanky was the most important, so Tiny Blanky went on trips and outings, in case she needed to sleep in the car, but still keeping the primary Blanky safe at home.

The first time our daughter got really sick, she threw up on both of them in the same evening, and was up until the wee hours of the morning crying and unable to sleep because Blankies were absent as we washed and dried them for her.

Blankies were important. Very, very important.

Karen texted me at work one afternoon late this week. She had made a quick run to Ikea to return some odds and ends that we had purchased and decided we didn’t need (ironically, she was acting to prevent the accumulation of stuff). She was leaving the store when they discovered that Tiny Blanky was not with them. Re -tracing steps, talking to security, consulting with lost-and-found…all resulted in nothing.

Tiny Blanky was lost.

Karen spoke of the sadness that she and our daughter talked through in the store, of how bravely our daughter handled the loss. It seems silly, to be so sad over a blanket, especially when Big Blanky is still safely at home for her to sleep with. But, Tiny Blanky had become a fixture, often in her hand as she walked here or there, requested frequently when out and about. Tiny Blanky, an inanimate object, had assumed a personality of sorts. Our daughter is sad, and told me so, but bravely moves on with life.

What’s really sad is that Karen and I sat around after our daughter was asleep for the night, and spoke of how depressed we both are that Tiny Blanky is gone. And while we hope we will be called by the store saying they’ve had a blanket turned in, and while I will make whatever time necessary in my schedule to get it if they do, we’ve moved to acceptance now. I’m much more aware of the need to keep track of Big Blanky, so that it can be kept for her and hopefully even held onto as an adult, so that she can remember the story. After all, Big Blanky was lovingly made and is one of a kind. It’s of great importance to our daughter, and thus of great importance to us. And I’m certain that it will continue to be in her hand as she explores the world.

The day Tiny Blanky was lost, though…that was a sad day for our family.

Tiny Blanky, thank you for all that you did. You will be missed.

Amazonian Losses

"Drone and Moon" by Don McCullough used under Creative Commons

There was a lot of stir last week after Amazon’s CEO announced that he intends to have packages delivered by drone aircraft to many areas, often in under an hour from the time that they are ordered. Everyone has been talking about it since the interview, and futurists have been abuzz. I’m a bit of a futurist myself, and as much as the idea gave me pause at first, the idea of tiny robots buzzing over our heads carrying out day-to-day business sort of excited me a bit, I’ll admit. Visions of futuristic movies and books that I read as a child danced through my head. When I think about it for a more than about a moment, though, it leaves me with concerns.

Let’s ignore the obvious fact that such deliveries aren’t legal in the U.S., and that the likelihood of them becoming legal, even to suit the influence of a business as huge as Amazon, isn’t high. Well, at least I hope that’s the case. I think the thing that troubles me the most about the reasoning behind wanting to make this happen is the perceived need of the public to have what they order so quickly. This is the issue of instant gratification taken to an entirely new level.

And speaking of levels, there are levels to this, layers of issues beginning to manifest, I think. First is the fact that we feel we are entitled to have what we want in under an hour, and that we shouldn’t have to leave our sofa to receive it. Secondly is the consumerist culture that permits us to have enough influence so as to dictate this need. Thirdly is the damage that we are doing to ourselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually by refusing to slow down as we are able to increasingly have whatever, whenever.

I’m certainly no hermit curmudgeon who is opposed to technology…I make my living in web technologies, and I love the progress that we make as a culture as we build new tools to assist us with our daily lives, to connect with each other in new ways. I’ll also admit up front that I’m not at all a fan of Amazon, not the least reason for which is their monopoly over book sales and the way that they treat authors. Those caveats aside…

This whole thing just makes cringe as I picture a tiny helicopter-like device landing on the balcony of our apartment with whatever I ordered 20 minutes ago. I truly can’t imagine what I could need that fast, what I could feel that I had that much of an entitlement to have immediately.

Our national ethos is one of transforming every aspect of daily life into a business. We can buy or sell anything, and, ultimately, anyone. We “consume” instead of engage, we accumulate, we are hopelessly distracted. We fill the voids that these activities leave in our lives with more stuff, and the faster that we can get that stuff, the more we can avoid the void. Which means we soon won’t notice it at all in our mountains of instantly-delivered possessions.

We won’t notice the very void that causes us to lose ourselves.

Photo Attribution: Don McCullough under Creative Commons