Review: Strange Perceptions by Chuck Heintzelman

Strange Perceptions by Chuck Heintzelman

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is a collection of fourteen of Chuck’s short stories, all of which have one thing in common: They’re strange. :)

I certainly don’t mean that in a bad way, either. What’s neat about these stories is that whether they be science fiction, fantasy, or straight-up horror, they’re all really strange. The world depicted in Chuck’s stories is just a little off-kilter. From “The Death Gerbil,” which has all the earmarks of a horror story, but with a quirky ending that brought a chuckle; “The Wizard Lottery,” which is a straight-up fantasy with all the earmarks of the genre; “Freshly Ghost,” which tantalizes the reader with a huge world of which we see only a tiny slice; “In the Closet,” which has a very creepy premise and a logical ending, something that most horror stories lack, in my humble opinion; to “Memory Fades,” which is a heartwarming, touching story with a supernatural twist.

I enjoyed all fourteen stories. I read about a third of them before on Chuck’s website, but seeing them all combined into one volume like this really brings that strangeness to light.

There’s something for everyone, here.



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Originally published at WriteWright. You can comment here or there.

I Am . . . Disappoint

I'll admit it. When I heard that Prometheus was coming soon, I did a little geek dance of joy. It was inside my mind, but dance, I did.

The Alien franchise + Ridley Scott (the director of the original movie) = a sea of awesomesauce.

Or it should.

I've been hearing troubling reviews. I tried to ignore them. But I heard this one today that clinches it: I'm not going to waste my money. Maybe when it comes out on NetFlix, I'll watch the streaming one, if I can swallow my bile long enough.

See, this is a science fiction film. Let me say that again, with emphasis. This is a science fiction film. And although the second word of that is "fiction," the first word should take precedence.

It sounds to me like the writer(s) of this could easily have fixed all the problems if he/they had taken maybe two hours to—I don't know, RESEARCH?—some of the, you know . . . science. Or how scientists act.

I had such high hopes for this film, too.

Ah, well. <punt> Maybe Parcheesi: The Motion Picture will be as good as the hype.

Disclaimer: To my knowledge, Parcheesi: The Motion Picture is not a real thing. Let us fervently hope that it remains a joke.

Here is the review. It is an audio review, and takes up the first 31 minutes (it's a very detailed review) of episode 267 of George Hrab's Geologic Podcast. You might find the rest of the podcast amusing as well. Or you might not. I think that about covers it, really. :)

[Edit: WARNING: Foul language included. Not egregious, but . . . some people don't even like 'heck' and 'darn,' and George uses 'fuck' a few times. So . . . now you're warned.]

The Craft of Writing: An Example

  by  Jarosław Pocztarski 

For almost as long as I’ve been writing, I’ve heard a nearly¹ consistent piece of writing advice: Avoid the tired cliché of having the character look into a mirror so you, the writer, have an excuse to describe the character to the reader.

It just isn’t to be done.

Unless, of course . . . you happen to know how to do it right. I have just read a passage that impressed me as a way to do it right. The following is an excerpt from the novel We by Yevgeny Zamyatin. I’m reading the Kindle version of the English translation (from Russian, if that’s not clear) by Clarence Brown. I quote this for review purposes and do not intend to infringe on anyone’s anything.

I’m in front of a mirror. And for the first time in my life, I swear it, for the very first time in my life, I get a clear, distinct, conscious look at myself; I see myself and I’m astonished, like I’m looking at some “him.” There I am—or rather, there he is: He’s got straight black eyebrows, drawn with a ruler, and between them, like a scar, is a vertical crease (I don’t know if it was there before). Gray, steel eyes, with the circle of a sleepless night around them; and behind that steel—it turns out I never knew what was there. And from that “there” (a “there” that is here and at the same time infinitely far away)—I am looking at myself, at him, and I am absolutely certain that he, with his ruler-straight eyebrows, is a stranger, somebody else, I just met him for the first time in my life. And I’m the real one. I AM NOT HIM.

Isn’t that wonderful? Of course, it’s immediately obvious that, aside from the eyebrows, eyes, and the dark circles around his eyes, he doesn’t actually describe himself. We have no idea if he’s blond or brunette or has a pimple on his nose or if his earlobes are attached or detached. But I think that’s the whole point. This looking-into-the-mirror scene isn’t about describing the character, but having the character discover something unnerving about himself. That we learn a few details of his appearance is basically a side-effect of the real purpose of the paragraph.

It’s one of my favorite passages from this book, so far, and there have already been quite a few. (I’m 32% done with it.)

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1. A couple of years ago, I took a writing workshop from a local (to Atlanta, GA) author. He actually—against all advice I’ve heard to the contrary—recommended the technique. I considered said advice with a large grain of salt, mind you, but hey. :)

Originally published at WriteWright. You can comment here or there.