strange and random happenstance

OK, I will admit it is odd to have a reminiscence about something that has JUST happened... but the thing is, this is my thank you not to Neil Gaiman but to all of you! When I first sent out my deluge of emails to friends, family, and acquaintances, I was inundated with enthusiastic responses. Not everyone had the time to write a toast or contribute, but most wished they did, and others were just excited to read the posts. I had a few toasts appear so quickly in my inbox I felt as if the words had been waiting years to be written and finally had found an outlet here on my blog. This response gave me such bookish glee. Yes, if there was a rock star of the literary community it would be Neil Gaiman, but to see all of you fangirling like me, well, it warmed the cockles of my heart. Now read that sentence back while looking at the above picture and you'll be oddly disturbed and I'm sure Neil would approve. Moving on... you guys seriously rock. You guys have also been asking (in some cases begging and pleading) for more. So who knows... perhaps in the near future another glass will be raised? Perhaps to another author? Perhaps to Neil from all those who wanted to but couldn't this time? But today. Right now. This one's for you.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Gaiman Gala, Gaiman Reminiscence, Gaiman Toast, Neil Gaiman, You Yes You

As summer drew to a close in 2015 my book club took advantage of the fine weather for our meeting and sat in cafe chairs sharing a Caprese salad while the last warm breeze teased the air. It was a day where you could feel the shift of the seasons, summer was ephemeral, much as the impression left by The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Ironically the member of my book club who put Neil's book into the hat was unaware of the unofficial book club outing two years previously, but somehow, the book getting picked, despite the attempted rigging to get The Martian selected, seemed right. The Ocean at the End of the Lane was coming full circle. We got to talk about our previous adventure but having now read the book there was a deeper meaning to that journey. What struck me, and the rest of book club, was that while we all rated it highly we agreed that it was a hard book to discuss, because much like summer, the book was slipping away from our collective conscious.

Much like the unknown narrator's continual memory loss as to what exactly happened in those days with the Hempstocks, this is a book that you enjoy while reading yet somehow when you finish you don't quite remember what happened. Oddly enough I don't think that this is a deterrent for the book. I think often of A Wrinkle in Time and how many endless occasions have led to me re-reading that book since it was first read aloud to me in forth grade, and yet I can not for the life of me tell you what exactly happens in that book. Yet both these books leave behind this feeling of childhood and hopes and dreams and endless possibilities that are just there for the taking. They are both classics in that they capture something true. Something crucial to hope and life. Now The Ocean at the End of the Lane might not be my favorite book by Gaiman, but I connect it to hope, and these wonderful experiences I have had with my friends, and that is pure magic.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: A Wrinkle in Time, Book Clubs, Fall, Gaiman Gala, Gaiman Reminiscence, Hempstocks, Memory, Neil Gaiman, Summer, The Martian, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

On an April day in 2013 I received an email that Neil Gaiman would be coming to Chicago that summer to do an event for his forthcoming book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane. I didn't even bother to wait, instantly buying my ticket and spreading the word among my friends that they should do likewise so we could have a wonderful adventure together. I was beyond excited because I was finally going to meet Neil. What made it even more momentous was that Neil announced that this would be his last signing tour. He'd still be doing events, just not signings that went on into the wee hours of the morning and left his hand crippled.

Fast forward several months to Tuesday, July 9th. Four of my friends were going with me and we left damn early, arriving in Chicago a little before noon. I had already secured parking in advance, so now all we had to do was wait until the doors opened at 6PM. I think when my friends noticed that there was no line and we had about seven hours to wait they thought I was a little crazy for leaving so early, but by the end of the night they would see the genius of my plan. We ate a delicious lunch a few doors down from the Music Box Theatre, and then ambled into line. Or I should say, we started a line. A line that would soon stretch for blocks and blocks, weaving and snacking over the hot pavement as the rain we were promised didn't materialize and the umbrellas we had brought were soon being deployed to block the harsh rays of the sun as we tried to cling to whatever shelter the marquee of the theatre offered us.

We even started taking turns going to the CVS a few streets down, not to get anything, but to revel in the air conditioning. That sweet sweet air. Eventually the time the doors were to open got nearer. There were actual employees of Unabridged Bookstore on sight... one of which I might have in my heat induced mania yelled at saying they were a line cutter. And yes, I did apologize once I was let in saying it was a long wait and the heat of the day had taken it's toll. Despite being the first ones in line we weren't in the first row... because that was reserved for friends. So we had to content ourselves with the second row.

That's right. There was some floorspace and one row of seats of "special" guests between us and Neil, once he appeared that is. At this point the relief of the cool theatre and having seats started to assuage the doubts of our early arrival on the scene and the hours in the blistering sun. The next hour was spent writing questions down on pieces of paper for Neil to answer in his Q and A, as well as buying even more of his books because I can not pass up books at a book signing and neither can my friends. As for my question for Neil? I know at the time I felt it was very important and I had to know the answer, but it wasn't picked and seeing as I don't even remember what the question was, it couldn't have been that interesting.

When Neil finally took the stage I had a sense of unreality. The long day, the heat, and somehow, here at the end of it, was Neil standing before me reading in that melodious voice of his from The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Whenever I read the section where we are first introduced to the Hempstocks I hear his voice like a siren call and remember the chills I had when he first read them aloud to me. Chills on such a hot day, I didn't think it was possible! Neil also read from Fortunately, the Milk, and it instantly became my most anticipated book of the fall.

But let's get to what it was all about in the end, the signing. Those few seconds in which I could interact one on one with Neil. I had brought with me an old Marvel trading card that used to be my brother's and featured Neil, as well as my copies of The Graveyard Book and Neverwhere. They had said only one item could be brought from home but I brought everything just in case, and it paid off, because they said we could have two items signed besides our copy of The Ocean at the End of the Lane and thanks to my friend and fellow toaster Aaron, I got everything signed. Neil was very polite when I pulled out the trading card giving me a little story about how they had airbrushed on his tan in a tale he's probably told many times before but which entranced me.

Yet it was my story that I wanted to tell him, about Neverwhere and a cat. About how the first time I read one of his books my kitty Spotty never left my lap, which was unheard of. Reading Neverwhere is a memory I will always cherish and it's thanks to Neil that I have it. He declared the appropriate thanks to Spot for his fortitude, knowing the fickleness of cats, and signed my copy of Neverwhere. That right there was all I had ever hoped. The chance to tell Neil how his book gave me a memory of my two favorite loves, my cat and reading, which, except for him, were always like water and oil.

My group was done with the signing line at around 9:30PM and right then is when my friends realized my cunning plan. That signing line was to go on until 3AM whereas we went back to that lovely restaurant, had amazing desserts, seriously, a coconut sorbet to die for, got back to the car by 10:30PM and were home in our beds before Neil had even had a chance to put his pen down. It was a day to remember for the rest of my life, much like a day two days later where I went on a walk and got so many mosquito bites that I went into shock. But that's a story for another day. Or a story for never. Yeah, let's never revisit that story.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 2 comments  

Labels: Book Signing, Cats, Chicago, Fortunately the Milk, Gaiman Gala, Gaiman Reminiscence, Music Box Theatre, Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere, Spot, The Graveyard Book, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, Unabridged Bookstore

In one of my last semesters of school working my way to my Associate Degree in Applied Arts, Graphic Design and Illustration, I was assigned a dream class project, to redesign a book cover. Seriously, if I could just make all my money doing book cover design I would, but sadly I am not Chip Kidd. I had two major problems that needed to be surmounted, one was the specifications of the assignment, which stated that the cover had to be a photoshoot I would art direct, but more importantly, what book to pick? After much thought I narrowed it down to two choices, Agatha Christie's Sparkling Cyanide and Neil Gaiman's Coraline. In the end I chose Coraline. It wasn't for lack of ideas on the Christie front, it's just that I have never really embraced any of the different official covers of Corlaine, which I think is a common feeling if you look at the number of people who have made their own covers. Seriously, the fan are out there is amazing. Of course, the irony of this project is that I ended up not even liking my own re-design. I had the basic idea down, but a few missteps threw the whole design out of balance.

My only issue I take with Coraline in general is Dave McKean. I seriously love his work but sometimes, in fact a lot of the times, his imagery doesn't match what you're reading. There's a disconnect, one I felt most while reading The Graveyard Book. Neil and Dave do work well together, but sometimes I feel like they're not on the same page and they're both so talented and respectful of each other they don't call one another out on something that might need fixing. So for my cover I wanted to go in a direction that wasn't an interpretation of what was written but of taking specific items that are important to the narrative and making them real. One of my favorite parts of Coraline is when she fools The Other Mother by creating a fake picnic as "protective coloration" so I started with a picnic cloth as my base. I then spent weeks finding the right props, a stone with a hole in it to see through, a needle that was wicked enough to replace eyes with buttons as well as the buttons, three luminous marbles to symbolize the trapped children's souls. After much searching I found all I was looking for and I still have a large bag of insects if anyone needs some.

Where I went wrong was in trying to sew the title onto the fabric. Through many episodes of How I Met Your Mother I sewed and sewed and ended up with an illegible mess that should have been done on the computer at a later time. But the actual photoshoot was fun, getting to eat the pie one of my classmates brought to do a cover re-design for The Help, seeing how others interpreted what they had read. And despite viewing this project as unsuccessful, it was still a wonderful experience, I won't say learning experience because I hate that phrase so much even if I did learn a lot. I had such fun in bringing imagery from the world Neil Gaiman created into this world. Finding just the balance of his magical realm and the reality that exists within it. Neil drove me to take his words and make something. This is the gift of a true writer. To inspire his readers to want to not only live in his world but to create something tangible. To express their own feelings and thoughts through other mediums. A good author tells a story that is memorable, a great author tells a story that inspires.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Agatha Christie, Coraline, Dave McKean, Gaiman Gala, Gaiman Reminiscence, Graphic Designer, Neil Gaiman, Photography, Protective Coloration, Sparkling Cyanide, The Graveyard Book, The Help, The Other Mother

I love to think back to the North American Discworld Convention in 2011 as the short time I physically lived in Discworld. Terry Pratchett's books have transported me there many times, but to have a physical passport and walk among people who were living the same immersion experience I was, well, that was truly unique. As an added bonus a few of my other favorite authors were along for the journey. There was Esther Friesner, Patrick Rothfuss, Stephen Baxter, and the rumors of Neil Gaiman. Since day one of the con the rumors had been spreading that the reason the Good Omens panel had been moved from it's scheduled time on Saturday to Sunday was because Neil himself would be coming. To have Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett in the same room together would be ecstasy. This seemed like it was literally too good to be true yet the whispers continued. I started to get swept up in the anticipation of possibly FINALLY seeing Neil Gaiman. My mind was making pro/con lists and I kept hoping that the pro of Neil actually living in Wisconsin would tip the scales. I couldn't concentrate on making my Sock Mac Feegle, I couldn't keep my lunch down. I was like an overexcited small child who was destined for a tantrum and in need of a nap.

That afternoon the crush to get into the main hall was epic. I wasn't the only one who was willing to believe in rumors and hearsay. But as it happens, sometimes there are glittering moments in your life when everything aligns and rumors are true. The cheers, which must have been heard blocks away, started before I could even see them. People were soon on their feet as Neil and Terry came into view. Then just hearing Neil speak. That voice! It was just enough to hear his voice. The panel was oddly voyeuristic. I felt like I was sitting watching Neil and Terry just chatting in their living room. They recounted many stories about how Good Omens was written, many of the anecdotes I'd read about before, but it was different seeing them reminisce. They also upheld the belief that at one point the book started writing itself because there is one line they both love but they swear neither of them wrote. They also discussed taking the picture for the back cover of the book. Terry remembers thinking how cool the "black and white" look would be, only Neil laid claim to the black so he was nice and warm in this cemetery, in winter, in England. While Terry was wearing a pair of very lightweight cricket pants and all the cricket accoutrement, being the only white clothes they could find at that time of year. Therefore you have the cool laid back Gaiman who spent the day climbing on tombstones, and a cold Pratchett huddling in the meager warmth of the mausoleum.

At one point they sang a bit of a They Might be Giants song and at another point, while recounting meeting a crazy person who wanted to buy the rights to the book demonstrated their "escape plan." They where to employ the code word "Biggles." But this lady was so beyond Biggles levels they both started to pretend to fly, in a move the fictional pilot would heartily approve. When Neil, near the end of the wondrous hour, got up and stood at the podium near me, he realized just how big the room was. Literally everyone from the convention came... well, they kept telling us not to miss it? And have I said... rumors? Here was Neil going, "Wow, there's people over here." It was nice to finally see his face and not just his dulcet tones. The podium had a purpose, of which Terry was suspicious. Turns out Neil was there to present the 2010 Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy to Terry for I Shall Wear Midnight, a serious contender for my favorite Terry Pratchett book ever. Terry was very humble with his short speech: "About Bloody Time." I don't know if any author event or panel could ever live up to this. Since then Terry is sadly gone and Neil doesn't do as many events. But at least I can say I was there. Also, it wasn't the only time I was destined to see Neil.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Biggles, Esther Friesner, Gaiman Gala, Gaiman Reminiscence, Good Omens, I Shall Wear Midnight, Nac Mac Feegles, NADWCon, Neil Gaiman, Patrick Rothfuss, Rumors, Stephen Baxter, Terry Pratchett, They Might Be Giants

Stardust was the second book by Neil Gaiman that I read. It's probably not his most well known piece, people tending to favor his more popular works from American Gods to The Sandman. Stardust is kind of somewhere inbetween with fairies and stars fallen to earth. And the truth is, I can see why people just aren't as engaged with it because I spent the entire afternoon one dark and dreary December 31st trying to finish it so that I could start the new year with a fresh new book, something miles away from Stardust. I couldn't bear the thought of having this book hanging over me at the start of another year. Yet I'm not here to talk about my dissatisfaction with the book, I'm here to talk about the movie that came out over two years later in the summer of 2007. Because I had disliked the book so thoroughly I oddly had no expectations of the movie. I literally was just excited to see so many British actors I loved from television on the big screen, from Henry Cavill to Nathaniel Parker, Jason Flemyng to Mark Heap, and especially Julian Rhind-Tutt to Mark Williams! Also, never forget Ricky Gervais is in this movie fresh off the success of Extras.

My friends thought I might have been a little too excited, I got lots of the "yes yes of course we'll see it" responses with the underlying message being "will you be quiet about it if we agree to go?" It came out the weekend before my birthday and it really was an early gift, despite the grumbling company.  

Stardust is literally one of my favorite movies. A stellar cast, a wonderful love story, magic, humor, a flying ship, oh, and the realization that I actually like Mark Strong. The movie captures that same ephemeral quality that is in The Princess Bride that you can't quite capture if you set out to replicate it. Just look to Neil's own flop MirrorMask which was deliberately meant to be Labyrinth for a new generation. MirrorMask is best forgotten, unlike Stardust. Stardust showed me that you really never can tell about books and their adaptations. They just might surprise you. Just as a great book can make a horrible movie, so can a mediocre book make a fabulous movie. Preconceptions get us nowhere and if we leave them at the door we might be surprised. Though I do think it's time for me to give the book another chance. I've only journeyed back to Wall in the delightful short story that Susanna Clarke set in Gaiman's universe, but you never know, Stardust might end up like The Princess Bride for me, the book and the movie being equally good for entirely different reasons.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 2 comments  

Labels: American Gods, Birthday, Gaiman Gala, Gaiman Reminiscence, Labyrinth, MirrorMask, Nathaniel Parker, Neil Gaiman, Ricky Gervais, Sandman, Stardust, Susanna Clarke, The Ladies of Grace Adieu, The Princess Bride, Wall

My grandparents had a farm on County Highway JJ in Lone Rock, just twenty some minutes from one of Wisconsin's weirdest attractions, The House on the Rock. The House on the Rock is a shrine to one man's weird collections and architectural dreams. The house itself is like some shag pile automated party house for Austin Powers, while the outlying warehouse-like buildings are crammed with everything from creepy dolls and dollhouses to mannequins wearing some of the oddest outfits to Eastern shrines and vast copper kettles surrounded by little walkways and staircases that go nowhere. And then there's the carousel. It's the world's largest indoor carousel that features 269 carousel animals, 182 chandeliers, over 20,000 lights, and hundreds of mannequin angels hanging from the ceiling. I spent much of my childhood hoping to ride that carousel, but alas, they don't allow it. I literally don't know how many times my parents took me there, it was a way to divert my brother and me for hours. I loved getting lost in the recreation of old streets and looking into fake houses, always wondering about other places and other people's lives.

The last time I went with my parents was for one of my brother's birthday parties. I remember it was sometime after the movie Big came out because I was 100% convinced that my fortune from the Esmeralda Machine, like Zoltar, would come to pass. In fact, it kind of did. I scoffed at it saying I'd end up in theatre and then I went and got myself a degree doing theatre tech! Though I am to this day grateful the card didn't say:

Years later when I was out of high school I went back with my friends and was still awed by the weirdness of it all. Last fall I went for what I am claiming will be my last time. The place was dusty and dilapidated, hot and overwhelming. And so cacophonous with the om-pah-pah music reverberating everywhere. But it's been a part of my life for so long it's no surprise that when I heard there was a book set there written by Neil Gaiman I ran to the bookstore and bought it. I am glad that American Gods wasn't the first Gaiman book I read because I have a feeling I would never have read anything else by him. He has often stated that American Gods is his most polarizing book and I can see that just among my friends. Some view it as the best book they've ever read and some have never been able to finish it. I just feel stupid when I read it, like I need a PHD in mythology to grasp the plot. I even tried to re-read it last fall before my final excursion to The House on the Rock and failed after the first section. But American Gods does hold a special place in my heart because Neil perfectly captured a place that was part of my growing up and immortalized it. So when the dust and decay and faulty wiring finally consume Alex Jordan's vision it will live on through Neil's writing.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Alex Jordan, American Gods, Big, Carousel, Esmeralda, Fortunetelling, Gaiman Gala, Gaiman Reminiscence, Lone Rock, Neil Gaiman, PHD, Spring Green, The House on the Rock, Zoltar

Of course I'd heard of The Sandman. Anyone with a passing interest in comics or who had visited a comic book shop knew what he looked like from comic covers to posters to statues. So I was obviously familiar with the iconography if not the story. Because, strange as it seems, at the time my story takes place I wasn't really into graphic novels. Nowadays I read a lot of them but am very particular as to what makes it into my permanent collection. But thanks to a well stocked public library I'm able to have a wide range of options, The Sandman included. At the time being fairly recently introduced to Neil's writing I hadn't yet made the leap from his prose when this story takes place. The year was 2005 and I had beyond all logic secured four tickets to a special sneak peek of Serenity in Chicago. The movie wasn't even done! Just a temporary score lifted straight off The Fifth Element. But that didn't matter, because Firefly lived again! The question was, which of my friends to take? Matt was my best friend and fellow Joss Whedon aficionado, so one ticket went to him. Another went to my friend Ann who tried to get one for her husband Bill but the show was already sold out.

The final ticket was obvious. My friend Orelia was shipping off to Africa to join the Peace Corps in a few short months and wouldn't get a chance to see the movie when it was released in the fall. After all those years spent in Rivendell co-op watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and later Angel I had my posse back for one last glorious adventure. Matt gets extremely car sick so for once I was ensconced in the back seat with Orelia, driving duties handed over to Ann. Orelia was in the process of re-reading all The Sandman comics before Africa and spent the afternoon while Ann drove us to Chicago telling me all about the series and in particular the volume she had brought along, The Sandman: The Doll's House. Even if I hadn't been familiar with Neil's work his sense of humor of having a Serial Killer Convention disguised as a "Cereal" Convention made me know that he was my kind of writer. I always look back on that day not as the day Joss callously killed off Wash, but of those quite moments in the backseat with Orelia talking about comics, or the amazing lightning storm we witnessed on the return journey. It was one of those days that I will always remember.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Chicago, Comics, Firefly, Gaiman Gala, Gaiman Reminiscence, Graphic Novels, Joss Whedon, Lightning, Neil Gaiman, Peace Corps, Sandman, Serenity, The Sandman: The Doll's House, Wash

Neverwhere is the beginning for me and Neil. An instance of just the right book at just the right time. In the fall of 2003 I was unceremoniously forced back into school. I say unceremoniously because back in May with full pomp and circumstance I had graduated from the University of Wisconsin - Madison only to find out a few months later that I was shy one class; my "ethnic requirement." Being adamant that I was fed up with all the different hoops I kept encountering I decided to take the course online and spent that fall reading many books from Southeast Asia. And then I spent January and February reading even more books from Southeast Asia and swotting up for my final. At the end of it all I was dying to read something different, something of my choosing. I chose Neverwhere.

One day I was at Barnes and Noble and the anglophile in my was drawn to the cover of Neverwhere. The pull-quote saying "[it] draws equally from George Lucas, Monty Python, Doctor Who, and John Milton..." instantly sold me. In particular the Monty Python/Doctor Who angle. So I finished my course work, bundled myself under my favorite blanket and dove into the 'London Below' of Richard Richard Mayhew Dick, Door, The Marquis de Carabas, and of course, the Angel Islington. What made this reading experience so special wasn't just the way the story flew off the page but by the fact that my cat, Spot, spent the entire time curled up on my lap. Now, this might not be weird to some people, but to me it was. Spot would gladly curl up on my lap for any reason unless I had a book. Something about me with a book made him shun me. So not only did this book reignite my love of reading but it gave me a sweet memory to remember my beloved Spotty by.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Books, Cats, Doctor Who, Door, Gaiman Gala, Gaiman Reminiscence, George Lucas, Islington, London Below, Monty Python, Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere, Richard Mayhew, School, Southeast Asia, Spot, The Marquis de Carabas