"A Study in Emerald" by Neil Gaiman and the Martin Wallace board game of the same name

Neil Gaiman's "A Story in Emerald" is a particularly well-conceived mashup of Sherlock Holmes and the Cthulhu Mythos, which was originally published in Shadows over Baker Street, edited by Michael Reaves and John Pelan. I first learned about it last April when Russell came across a Kickstarter campaign for a board game by Martin Wallace inspired by the story. We were sufficiently intrigued to back the campaign and I used Russell's June birthday as an excuse to buy a book in which the story appeared:  New Cthulhu: The Recent Weird.

Our copy of A Study in Emerald (the game) arrived at Chez Morsie sometime around Christmas, but we hadn't gotten around to playing it so when our friend Michael brought his copy to game night last week, I jumped at the chance to learn the game even though I hadn't read Gaiman's story yet. I read the story today.

The story is set in an alternate Victorian London that should seem pretty familiar to readers. The biggest difference between "A Study in Emerald"'s London and that of Doyle is that Victoria is one of the Great Old Ones, who have been ruling the planet for the past 700 years. Like Doyle's "A Study in Scarlet," "A Study in Emerald" introduces the consulting detective and his narrating companion. There is a murder with which Inspector Lestrade and his team need assistance. At the crime scene "RACHE" is spelled out in the victim's blood, though in this case the blood is green. While I am no expert on the Sherlock Holmes canon, it seemed to me that Gaiman admirably maintained the feel of Doyle's/Watson's writing (though this is helped along by the fact the story's introductory passages mirror that of "A Study in Scarlet"). I liked how Gaiman was able to introduce the backstory of the Great Old One's takeover without having it seem like a tangent. While I enjoyed "A Study in Emerald" as I was reading it, when I finished the story I was thrilled. I can't explain why without spoiling it (I even insisted that Russell must read it himself). There's more in "A Study in Emerald" for Sherlockians than there is for Lovecraft aficionados, but I'd recommend it to both (and especially to readers who appreciate both Doyle's and Lovecraft's worlds).

A Study in Emerald (the game) is built upon the political tensions described in Gaiman's story: the Great Old Ones rule the world, but there is a group of "restorationists" plotting to overthrow them. In the game, which plays 2-5, players are randomly and secretly assigned to either the Loyalist or Restorationist factions. Ours was a 4-player game and I was the token Restorationist; I did not win.

Interestingly enough, per Wallace's design notes, the inspiration for A Study in Emerald was not Gaiman's story but The World that Never Was by Alex Butterworth, a history of anarchism.

I felt that there was enough material her for a board game but was note sure about the reception it would receive. I had this feeling that some players might object to a game where your main occupation would be going around blowing up various world leaders. It just so happened that I had recently read "A Study in Emerald" which suggested a solution to my problem--turn the leaders into monsters, thus depriving them of any sympathy they may otherwise garner. (Design notes, A Study in Emerald rule book, 16)

Not to mention the added cache of both Gaiman and the Cthulhu mythos with gamers.  If nothing else, the "A Study in Emerald" overlay was marketing genius.  I don't tend to spend much time reading rule books (preferring to have games taught to me) and I would skip over design notes just as I usually skip over acknowledgments in the books that I read. I had Russell dig out our copy of the rule book when I started writing this post because I wanted to read Wallace's justification of his inclusion of zombies¹ (and vampires) in the game when they don't appear in the story,² and that's how I learned about the real inspiration for the game, which I found particularly interesting.

1. For what it's worth I was holding my own against in the Loyalist faction until the zombies card was in play. When Dan, who had the zombies card in his card, managed to get his hands on a card that allowed his deck to cycle more quickly, I (and the Restorationist cause) was doomed.
2. He justifies zombies because of a real life Dr. Frankenstein-type individual that appears in Butterworth. He has no good excuse for including vampires.

seasonal reading: Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

source: gift

Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

For a hundred and forty years Carmilla has given readers' bodies and souls a shake, because the vampire is beautiful, but repulsive, to be resisted at all costs, because the narrative alternates so imaginatively between twittering girlies and an urgent need to reach for sharpened wooden stakes. (Richler, xxxi)

One of my late-arriving birthday presents was a copy of the Pomegranate Vintage Vampire edition of Carmilla, a vampire story first published in 1872. I decided to read it right away because it seemed like an appropriate selection for the Halloween season.

This particular edition of Carmilla includes illustrations by Taeden Hall¹ (though the cover was illustrated by Gillian Holmes) and a preface by Daniel Richler. Richler's 23-page introduction to the story managed to be both academic and chatty. It places Carmilla in context (of its time, in the development of vampire literature, etc.) and discusses how Carmilla has been interpreted and adapted over time.

Hall's illustrations are sweet and very much in keeping with the novella's "twittering girlies" (above) and "girl school lesbianism" (publisher) while still being atmospheric. Plate 5, inspired by the line "The limbs were perfectly flexible, the flesh elastic; and the leaden coffin floated with blood, in which to a depth of seven inches, the body lay immersed" (117), packs a punch,² while the others are more subtle by degrees. I do wish though that the publisher had used a different process to print the plates. The dots created by pixelation bring to mind comics, (over)emphasizing the cartoony quality of the illustrations.

As to the story itself I have to admit that I did not find it to be nearly as creepy as I'd hoped I would.³ That's not a problem with the story per se, but rather with the fact that many modern readers (including myself) came of age reading authors like Stephen King and Anne Rice. It seems like that inoculation has made us immune to the true spookiness of gothic and proto-horror stories.

At 124 pages, however, the novella seems decidedly short.  The narrative includes so much build up before the realization that the vampire-character is a vampire that the vanquishment and conclusion felt rushed.  On a more positive note, Le Fanu's prose is very easy to read with little in the way of antiquated language to irritate (some) modern readers.  Additionally, his interpretation of the whys and wherefores of vampirism are surprisingly uncomplicated.

1. Hall's alternative clothing line, Gloomth, has a 3-piece collection inspired by the novella.
2. How could it not?
3. I have the same problem with Lovecraft, much to my chagrin. 

summer reading with memaids

Monstrous Beauty by Elizabeth Fama (source: public library)

In the early 1870s in Plymouth, Massachusetts, a mermaid named Syrenka falls in love with a young naturalist and decides to give up her immortality for a life on land with him. In modern day Plymouth, 17-year-old Hester disdains love because generations of her female ancestors (including her own mother) have died shortly after the birth of their first child. It is only after Hester meets the magnetic Ezra that she realizes just how naive her romance-avoidance plan was. At the suggestion of Ezra, Hester begins to research her family history in the hope of determining the true cause of the postpartum deaths and whether there's a way she can avoid her own.

Monstrous Beauty is dark and Fama's mermaids are monstrous (in case that wasn't obvious from the novel's title). There's lots of nice historical detail for the historical fiction fan though. In addition to the sections that take place in the 19th century, Hester is also an interpreter in the 17th century English village at Plimoth Plantation, where they do first person interpretation.

Of Poseidon by Anna Banks (source: Sync)
series: Syrena Legacy (1)

While there is a disturbing scene early in Of Poseidon, the novel is is much more of a standard YA paranormal romance than Monstrous Beauty. Its mermaids (who don't like the term "mermaid") are decidedly human-like, though they are thick-skinned and hot tempered, with a society more patriarchal than current western tastes would support.

One interesting (to me) thing about the mermaid-culture in Of Poseidon is that the mermaid's have archives.  Their archives are individuals who serve as the collected memory of the people.

I liked Of Poseidon well enough and I'll probably get the sequel (Of Triton) from the library. I had, however, figured out the big reveal that happens at the end of the novel fairly early on.  There was opportunity for second-guessing, but, from the time the mystery is apparent, I was fairly certain of its solution.

Clockwork Century, Cherie Priest

A few weeks ago Russell collected a few of Cherie Priest's Clockwork Century books from the library for me. I'd been quite anxious to read them after hearing so much about Boneshaker (steampunk with zombies, oh my!).

He brought the three books pictured above--Boneshaker, Dreadnaught, and Ganymede--the first, third, and fourth installments in the series.¹ Happily the books in Clockwork Century series stand alone so it wasn't too problematic to skip Clementine, the second book.

I have to admit that I didn't enjoy Boneshaker as much as I expected to. I was enamored of the novel's premise (a Civil War-era Seattle ravished by a toxic gas, which causes zombism among other things, leaking from the earth after an unscrupulous scientist misuses new excavation technology), but less than enthused by its pervasive pessimism, slow pacing, and how much was expected of the reader in the way of suspension of belief (I'm not referring to the zombies or alternate history, but how characters interact with their environment and some of their decisions). If I hadn't already had Dreadnaught and Ganymede on hand I might not have continued on with the series.  I am happy that I did, though, because I liked the other two better than Boneshaker.

Priest's world becomes much more fully realized in Dreadnaught and Ganymede. Neither of these books take place primarily in Seattle, though Seattle's history and its role as the source of the toxic gas play an important part in the two stories.  The settings though more various in Dreadnaught (in the Southern theater of the American Civil War and cross country by rail) and Ganymede (New Orleans and its environs) are much more clearly drawn and realistic. Their characters are also more sympathetic.

I suppose it is just that Priest has found her stride by the time she writes the third book in the series. I'd recommend Dreadnaught and Ganymede unreservedly, but Boneshaker only as context for the other books in the series (though there are some really good things about it).

1. Clementine is the second.

reading H.P. Lovecraft

Even though I'm not supposed to be buying books for myself, I did pick up one during this latest blog-neglecting period. When I was book shopping for my nieces and nephews (a post on that topic coming soon) I happened across this deeply discounted title: Tales of H.P. Lovecraft, introduced and selected by Joyce Carol Oates. Now that we (finally) have a copy of Arkham Horror, a board game built around H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulhu Mythos, I felt it was high time that both Russell and I read Lovecraft's work (and I love the cover art). I also figure that I might as well share my thoughts on the individual stories on the blog. So far I've read the first three.

The stories included in Tales of H.P. Lovecraft are supposedly his major works. I'm not sure if the stories are arranged chronologically or with any rhyme or reason and I don't remember reading anything about that the arrangement in the volume's introduction.

Joyce Carol Oates' Introduction (9.5 pages)
I appreciated getting a bit more biographical information about Lovecraft. What a horrible, horrible mother he had. JCO references many writers while placing Lovecraft in the context, explains the Cthulhu Mythos and its origins, identifies the overlap of Lovecraft's imaginary geography with areas in the Northeast United States, and outlines reader response. However some of the most interesting bits of the essay aren't specific to Lovecraft and his work.

JCO on the difference between genre and literary fiction:

Readers of genre-fiction, unlike readers of what we presume to call "literary fiction," assume a tacit contract between themselves and the writer: they understand that they will be manipulated, but the question is how? and when? and with what skill? and to what purpose? However plot-ridden, fantastical or absurd, populated by whatever pseudo-characters, genre-fiction is always resolved, while literary fiction makes no such promises; there is no contract between reader and write for, in theory at least, each work of literary fiction is original, and, in essence, "about" its language; anything can happen, or, upon occasion, nothing. Genre fiction is addictive, literary fiction, unfortunately is not. (xiii)

Nostalgia: "To love the past, to extol the past, to year in some way to inhabit the past is surely to misread the past, purposefully or otherwise; above all, it's to select from the past only those aspects that accommodate a self-protective and self-nourishing fantasy" (xi).

"The Outsider" (5+ pages)
Even though I'm pretty sure that I had not previously read any Lovecraft, I was struck with profound sense of déjà vu when reading "The Outsider." A disappointing start to the collection, short with its surprise ending so obviously that even twist seems inappropriate.

"The Music of Erich Zann" (7 pages)
A bit creepier, but the framed narrative gives the reader a bit too much distance.

"The Rats in the Walls" (16 pages)
Finally a really good ending. "The Rats in the Walls" gave me hope for both Lovecraft and this volume.

The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey

The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey

After a fire claimed the lives of both his parents, 12 year-old Will Henry became the unwitting apprentice of Dr. Pellinore Warthrop, his father's former employer. Dr. Warthrop is a monstrumologist, one who studies (and hunts) "life forms generally malevolent to humans and not recognized by science as actual organisms, specifically those considered products of myth and folklore" (Monstrumologist front matter).

The action of The Monstrumologist begins one night in 1888, Will Henry is roused from his bed when an unexpected caller arrives bearing the fresh corpse of a pack-dwelling monster.

I wanted to get buy a copy of The Monstrumologist because Simon & Schuster, the book's publisher, had announced its plans not to continue publishing the popular, award-winning series that The Monstrumologist opens. The good news is that Simon & Schuster has since reconsidered their decision and will publish at least the fourth installment (book 2 is out already and book 3 is forthcoming).

I found The Monstrumologist to be well-written, but a bit gory for my taste. That's a good thing, though, because The Monstrumologist is one of the only young adult books I've read lately that I can actually imagine a teenage boy reading. Really, why are so many young adult books so heavy on the romance?

In any case, here's a passage I bookmarked:

Perhaps that is our doom, our human curse, to never really know one another. We erect edifices in our minds about the flimsy framework of word and deed, mere totems of the true person, who, like the gods to whom the temples were built, remains hidden. We understand our own construct; we know our own theory; we love our own fabrication. Still... does the artifice of our affection make our love any less real? (362)

So very observant and not at all what I'd expect to find hidden in a horror novel.

Eutopia by David Nickel

Please note that while this review doesn't include any big, end-of-novel spoilers, it does include a bit more plot detail than the publisher's blurb. Proceed with caution.

Eutopia by David Nickel

Subtitled "a novel of terrible optimism," Eutopia is a genre-bending novel with a title that promises a terrific blend of eugenics and utopia.¹

Set in 1911, Eutopia follows two outsiders navigating the remote mill town of Eliada, Idaho.

Andrew Waggoner is the junior physician at the Eliada Hospital. While his credentials are impeccable, he's a Negro and his presence is tolerated only because it is mandated by the town's patron.

17-year-old Jason Thistledown has miraculously survived a plague that killed the entire population of Cracked Wheel when his long-lost aunt arrives in the area as part of her census for the Eugenics Records Office. Untethered Justin agrees to accompany his aunt on to Eliada, where she has an appointment with a colleague.

Eutopia was not at all what I expected and I have to say that I didn't like it. I expected a story where the villains were overzealous proponents of eugenics. There were those, but the story also included a paranormal element that I just could not appreciate.

I enjoyed the beginning of the book and was intrigued by where I thought the author was taking the plot, but when it became apparent that the mysterious Mr. Juke was a faerie/monster rather than someone locked away for study because of his intriguing (to the eugenicist doctor) deformities, I lost interest. I did finish the entire book, but only because I had Eutopia slated for review.

I know there are readers out there who will love Eutopia, but I'm not one of them. The novel definitely leads more toward horror, so if you like horror (fantastic rather than realistic)² with a historical bent, you want want to give Eutopia a try.

1. For those of you unfamiliar with eugenics, it is a science (popular in the early 20th century) focused on bettering the human race (usually through the culling of undesirable elements; forced sterilization programs and the like). Here's a page with lots of information.
2. I don't usually read horror so I have no idea if those are the right adjectives to use. What I'm trying to get at is human "monster"(s) versus supernatural monsters.

disclosure: I received a review copy of Eutopia from ChiZine via NetGalley.