Well, okay then...
It is with a certain degree of hyperbolic trepidation that I begin writing the review that brings my "Creative Typing" brushing up against Harlan Ellison's body of work. This moment was unavoidable, though. There is no way for a person with tastes such as mine in reading and viewing to not partake of something that was written by (or - ahem - "inspired by" the writings of*) Harlan Ellison.
Although it may be safe for me to assume that most Constant Readers of this blog (and I know that there are Constant Readers out there, even if they do not post comments and such) will be familiar with both the work and the reputation of Harlan Ellison. For those of you that might not be, (Hi Mom, Hi Dad) Harlan Ellison is one of those writers that is just as famous, and/or infamous, for his contentious personality and over-the-top behavior as he is for his powerful writing. I think it is safe to say that only Norman Mailer and, maybe, Ernest Hemingway or Truman Capote come anywhere close to being Harlan Ellison's equals in the arena of Writer As Performance Artist.
For those of you that are unfamiliar with Ellison (again, I find it hard to comprehend that a genre fan would be unfamiliar with Harlan Ellison, or his work) and doubt the description that I concluded the previous paragraph with, then I wholeheartedly recommend that you read An Edge in My Voice
Now, if you already know of, and admire, Harlan Ellison, then you really don't need my recommendation, do you? You have probably already read this collection of award-winning essays and columns written for the magazine Future Life and, after the magazine folded, for the L.A. Weekly. Hell, you probably read the columns back when they first appeared, over 30 years ago.
Wait a minute. Has it been 30 years? Where the hell has all that time gone? I have grown from a scrawny, pimple faced and geeky teenager into a soft in the middle, hair greying at the temples and thinning on the top middle-aged man. A man that chuckles at the memory of being that scrawny, pimple faced and geeky teenager and looking forward to being this age. An age that I believed I would be dominating the world with my obvious creative talents. Really.
That hasn't happened yet. But there is still time, although much, much less of it now.
Whoops, I have digressed from my subject. An Edge in My Voice is Ellison's unique perspective of the world, as experienced by him, from 1980 through 1983, give or take a year. During that time he lashes out at the countless things that irk him, such as Ronald Reagan, the Moral Majority, "knife-kill" movies in general and Brian De Palma films in particular, Oreo cookies, etc. He also passionately advocates for the Equal Rights Amendment, California's Proposition 15, and mourns the needless death of a deranged nuclear missile protester. He also heaps irreverent and joyous praises on the things he believes would enrich a reader's life experience: certain books and music recordings, the performances of singer Susan Rabin, the intoxicating joys found in "Old Time Radio", and so on and so forth. With each flip of the page I was delighted, flummoxed, and shocked at where Ellison's interests, passions, and impish curiosity took him. It made for entertaining and fascinating reading.
These essays are a wonderful showcase of Ellison's dexterity with the English language, his biting and ruthless wit, and his almost terrifying level of erudition. Despite these writings being 30 years old, the collected essays remain vibrant reading experiences that are wonderful snapshots of a now bygone era.
The vibrancy of those snapshots gives the reader the ability to look back at the world as seen by Harlan Ellison 30 years ago and compare it with the world today. Have things gotten better? Have they gotten worse? The Equal Rights Amendment still seems to be something of a pipe dream, as do safe and sane gun laws. Hell, President Obama signed a law that allowed people to carry firearms in Federal Parks and right wing idiots STILL think he is anti-gun. What the frak is that idiocy about? Nuclear weapons are everywhere and have become even more of a threat. The economy is back in the toilet and those that complain are labeled socialists now, instead of communists. In the arena of politics, it seems that things really haven't changed all that much. Humans still act like some kind of batty failed evolutionary experiment.
Speaking of failed evolutionary experiments, Ellison's gloating 1983/1984 dismissal of the supposed dying video game trend proved a tad inaccurate. The industry rebounded nicely and is bigger, stronger, and more ubiquitous than it was 30 years ago. The same can be said of the vilified Chuck E. Cheese Pizza Restaurant and Video Game Arcade franchise. Said chain also rebounded and it even built a brand spanking new eatery in my city a year or so ago. Hell, one of my son's friends works there. He walks around dressed as Chuck E. Cheese.
So it goes.
The only time I reacted negatively to Ellison's ranting and raving about any given topic was when he lambasted "knife-kill" movies and, after listing numerous movies that I remember seeing in theaters, or on VHS, as a tween and teen (Dressed to Kill, Blow Out, Prom Night, Motel Hell, Silent Scream, The Boogeyman, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Blood Beach, My Bloody Valentine, Humanoids from the Deep, Terror Train, and The Howling) he asked those that enjoyed them, "Are you still deluding yourself that you're still sane?"
Short answer: Yes.
Long answer: I am proud to say these words are being written by a grown man that, as tween and teen, devoured Fangoria magazines, papered his bedroom walls with theatrical posters for The Fog, Maniac, Friday the 13th Part 2 and others, while devouring countless books by Stephen King, Peter Straub, James Herbert, Charles L. Grant, Robert Bloch, and H.P. Lovecraft, while listening to the original motion picture soundtracks of The Amityville Horror, The Shining, Exorcist II: The Heretic, Halloween III: Season of the Witch, and countless others. A sane tween and teen that managed to grow into a sane man.
Cliched bullshit statements about how art (good and bad) is warping a certain segment of society, or is only enjoyed by a warped segment of society, always put an edge in my voice. Whenever the horror genre goes through a cycle of popularity, there are invariably articles that ask the inane question, "Why are these icky horror movies so popular?" Said article is usually followed by another article about how all of those insanely popular icky horror movies are twisting minds, ruining culture, etc. The complaints that Ellison made were nothing new, even back in the early 1980s. While I am not surprised that Ellison disliked those films, I was rather disappointed that an intellect as sharp as his would put forth arguments as lazy and cliched as the ones he used.
Nonetheless, I give a passionate thanks to "Uncle Harlan" for reminding me of how the "Good Old Days" were really not all that good and, even though it pains me to write this, that the troubles of those "Good Old Days" aren't all that different from the ones of today.
Again, so it goes.
* And yes, I believe that James Cameron "ripped off" Harlan Ellison when he wrote The Terminator.
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