Author: Patrick

The Must Reads

    Patrick

I was thinking recently of what books I consider must-reads. Books that I can wholeheartedly recommend to anyone, regardless of their personal preferences or reading habits. These may not be my favorite books (some are), but they are books that I think are important, entertaining, and make the reader a better person in one way or another.

What follows is a list of those books. Feel free to argue with me or leave your own additions in the comments.

Ender’s Game – Orson Scott Card

This started when I was writing about Ender’s Game in my last post. So I’ll kick this list off with that one. A commentary on war and the cost of winning, and a thrilling read to boot.

To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee

A classic for a reason. The story of a sad time in history (depicting events that probably still happen, unfortunately), but a story still full of hope and innocence.

Lord of the Flies – William Golding

Another classic for a reason. On the surface a great story of survival, but layered with interesting ideas and comments on civilization and religion.

Sandman – Neil Gaiman

A series of ten graphic novels (and some miscellaneous additions) that chronicle the life of the titular character, a member of a family that influences the lives of everything in the universe. It really is incredible the journey that Gaiman takes the reader on throughout this series.

In the City of Shy Hunters – Tom Spanbauer

I was tempted to put three Spanbauer books on this list, but I decided to narrow it down to just one. And this one speaks to me the most. It’s the story of a young mid-western man searching for his lost lover in 1980’s New York City. This book feels like Spanbauer poured out his entire heart and soul into every sentence. It’s dazzling.

Maniac Magee – Jerry Spinelli

A young orphan boy becomes a local legend because he lives his life ignorant of the racial issues in the area. It’s a book for children that will probably help adults more. Children aren’t racist unless adults make them so.

That’s all for now. I’m sure I’ll think of more as time goes on. And I might be adding the Game of Thrones series as well. I’m waiting to read all the complete series first.

Madame Regret Published on ThickJam

    Patrick

Head on over to ThickJam to read my story, Madame Regret, which was published today as issue #279.

thickjam

Some context for the curious: This story is almost 10 years old. I had started reading Chuck Paluhniuk’s essays on writing, so everything I wrote for a year read like bad stories he would write. This one was the best. I quite like it, but you can tell I was trying to be Chuck.

Let me know what you think!

 

Novel Excerpt: Mother of Dust and Dreams

    Patrick

The below was an April Fool’s post.

I’ve been hard at work on a new novel. Below is the first excerpt I am publicly releasing. Please let me know what you think. It’s very important that I get feedback. It’s invaluable to my writing process.

Mother of Dust and Dreams [Excerpt]

Chapter 18: In Where the World of Green Turns To Gold Again

Her bare feet moved through the tall green grass languidly. Sensually even. The dewiness was making the soles of her feet cold, but it was a pleasant contrast to the blazing sun pounding down on her head like a hammer to an anvil. “If only the sensations in real life were as real as those I’m feeling now.” She said to no one in particular, her voice like melted butter. For she was not in real life. She was in the World of Dreams, had been ever since her head had hit the feathery silk pillow in her chambers.

Alexus knew she shouldn’t be so nonchalant about her morning walk in the dreamscape.  Xefarixis Van Abb was here somewhere. And if he found her, well, then the Commoo Orb she wore around her neck would be in danger. She needed the Orb if she was going to fuse the three chambers of the world and stop the Soul Attack that this dimension was experiencing ever since the Father of Secrets started playing games with “the prime.”

But the dew and the sun were delivering such a delightful contrast. From her feet to the top of her head, the sensations met in the middle, in her heart, and made her tingle with very un-dreamlike sensations. Sternly, she gathered herself and stopped walking, stamping her bare feet into the dewy ground. “Enough of this, Alexus! Get yourself together!” She said to herself.

Just then, out of the corner of her eye she saw something running through the field of dew-covered tall grass. A small thing, on four legs, with long floppy ears and a bushy tail covered in dew. It stopped when she turned towards it. There were often living things in the dream world, figments created by a dreaming child who is still pure of heart. A lot less common these days as they were in the past, but she still came across a Figgie from time to time.

It was good luck to pet a Figgie. If she could rub her hand across its head, it would be like she was rubbing her hand across the sleeping child who dreamed it. That bestowed powers on one in tune with the dream world. Powers she could urgently use if she was going to harness the power of her Commoo Orb. So she walked towards the dew-covered bunny-Figgie slowly, with her hand outstretched.

The bunny stopped and stared at her. Its cute furry nose twitching, throwing drops of dew left and right as it did so. She kneeled down in front of it, her knees on the dew-covered ground. Then she saw it. The eyes of the Figgie. Its pupils opening and closing like camera lenses. She grabbed the thing by the neck and shook it. This was no Figgie! She could feel the jangle of steam-powered machinery inside it. She grabbed its head with one hand and its body with another and yanked it in two.

How could she have be so dumb? There was no blood. It was a constructed thing. And she could tell by the array of gears just who had built it. This was a scout, sent through the dream world to find her, and it was built by none other than Xefarixis Van Abb!

“HAHAHAHA!” There was a laughing behind her. She turned, and there, floating in the sky in his pedal powered personal zeppelin, was Xefarixis Van Abb himself. The leader of the Harbinger’s Guild, and the sworn enemy of her clan was floating there, taunting her. Normally, he wouldn’t be special to behold, but behind his sunshine goggles and water armor he was a worthy adversary. And what made it worse was that he was holding a Flaming Ball in one hand, ready to throw.

“Oh Alexus, I knew you would be easy to find in this World of Dreams!”

“Well, at least I’m not as easy to spot is a man in a zeppelin!” It was a poor comeback, but it was all he had.

“It’s a shame really. I thought this would be more difficult!” And with that, he threw the Flaming Ball directly at her!

She dove out of the way and rolled through the dew-covered grass. She arose and turned, her whole body now covered with dew, and saw the Flame Ball hit the field where she had been standing. She thought there was enough dew on the grass to keep it from igniting, but no, the dew was not plentiful enough and the flames started spreading like butter on toast. She was surrounded by fire!

Xefarixis turned his air balloon vehicle and pedaled away, laughing, leaving her to burn. The flames were large now. As large as her fears. And she had no way to escape. So she dropped to her knees in the last remaining patch of dew and put her face to her hands and cried. The tears streamed down her face, mixing with the dew. She could feel the heat and taste the smoke now.

But then a tear fell on the Commoo orb around her neck and there was a flash of light and Alexus felt like she was in a waterfall and then in ice and then in space and then lying on a pool of dew and then she woke up, her head safely upon the silk pillow in her bed.

She felt dampness on her pillow and initially thought it was dew, but then realized it was her tears. She had been crying. And she realized then that she couldn’t avoid Xefarixis Van Abb any longer. He must be punished, and she was on the one that was going to punish him hard.

Oh Sandy: An Anthology of Humor for a Serious Purpose

    Patrick

OhSandy

The new anthology, Oh Sandy: An Anthology of Humor for a Serious Purpose is now out.

In it you can find my story, “The Bet”. It’s a tale of brotherly competitiveness in the face of a hurricane.

You should pick up a copy, not because of my story (which is awesome, of course), but because all of the proceeds go to charities. The book, you see, contains humorous stories about natural disasters and NJ, and the charities involved are those that supported Hurricane Sandy victims.

I’m happy to be a part of the whole enterprise.

Pick up a physical copy here.

And the eBook here.

Let me know what you think!

Deeper into The Room

    Patrick

Below is an essay I published in a print zine about the cult classic film The Room. If you have not seen it, you owe it to yourself to give it a try. And after you watch it, come back and read this essay. I think you will enjoy it.

theroom

Deeper Into The Room

by P.R. O’Leary

There is much to ponder about Tommy Wiseau’s film. But nestled amongst the few answerable and far more unanswerable questions is one that garners much discussion. What does the title mean? Many posit that it is simply a descriptive phrase. The film mostly takes place in a single room. But Wiseau is no slouch when it comes to symbolism, and care must be taken to approach an analysis of the title with more than just a passing glance. Like all things in The Room, the title is not just black and white.

When approached in an interview in 2010, Wiseau is vague about what it means. “[sic] The room is a special place. Is only you have the key for it. Same my. This is my place. This is your place. You as well. And I bet you have one other place which you actually call the room. Or their place. But I let’s call it the room, right? You the. Private place. You do whatever you wanted. That’s why we call it the room. We don’t call it our room. Okay? Yeah, all right.”

This evasiveness is typical of the auteur. He wants us to work at understanding his film and through that process develop a deeper understanding of ourselves. To begin we must examine the title literally.

In the film there are two main rooms: the downstairs living room, in which many pivotal scenes take place (the mother-in-law’s heartrending revelation that she has breast cancer, for example), and the upstairs bedroom in which the main character bares both his body and his soul. Both of these rooms are important locations in the story, but there is not enough evidence to support either of them being the subject of the title.

But what of Wiseau’s quote above? A tacit reading of the title is too shallow to fit his description. Wiseau could be implying that the room is not a physical structure, but one that we build around ourselves. Our “special place.” This has many implications. Johnny (played by Wiseau himself) has let some characters into his “room.” By letting his guard down, or “opening the door,” he has made himself vulnerable. And the one he has trusted most, Lisa, violated that trust, or to continue the metaphor: “vandalized Johnny’s room.” Hence the classic J’Accuse screamed by Johnny during his most pained moment, “You’re tearing me apart, Lisa!”

This take on the title is reinforced with subtle symbolism that shows how the characters are confined and stuck in rooms of their own creation. The set design steeps the production in claustrophobia. From the sparsely furnished apartment to the four-poster bed ensconced with walls of fabric. Even the open-aired rooftop is obviously green-screened. It’s a brilliant choice to confine the characters even more.

When the characters do escape those confines, Wiseau shifts his symbolism from production design to the actions of the characters. He shows that even outside they remain contained, and are only able to throw a football very short distances. It is as if the walls are still there, preventing them from getting more than a few feet apart. When a character finally does try to escape, by running to catch a long football pass, he trips and falls. It’s as if Wiseau is punishing him for trying to leave the room without a key.

At the end of the film Johnny does find a key to his special place, thereby finding a way to escape. It’s a bleak, depressing world view, but it’s presented in such a way that the audience is more angry than sad. We are angry at Lisa. We are angry at Mark. Why? Because we saw how Johnny let them into his room. We saw how they took advantage of that trust and we understand how Johnny had no other way out.

The title, in the end, is obvious. The Room is indeed Johnny’s special place. One that was full of kindness and love, but was violated by those he trusted most. Ultimately, Tommy Wiseau makes us ask the question: Who would you let into your room? Each viewer will have their own answer. For Johnny, the answer is simple: Denny. Only Denny.