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1962 TR3B

I miss Erector Sets. I blame my car.

Pepper (or Peppah-Girl as my Hawaiian friends call her) came home last week and since then I’ve been somewhat…preoccupied. She was in the shop for a loooong, long time, but it was necessary. I let the pros fix all the critical issues (like steering and brakes and such) and left the small, non-crucial items for myself.

There are many things I like about this car, but one thing that pleases me most is her simplicity. Pepper is a decidedly low-tech vehicle. She has a tractor’s engine (seriously…the engine Triumph used was designed for tractors) and simple hydraulics for brake and clutch. The steering is unpowered, requiring a good deal of brute force to turn the wheels (especially when stopped). One part of the engine is actually made of glass, and parts of the body are supported by pieces of wood.

All this pleases me greatly.

It’s been a long time since I worked on a car. I never really got into the serious gear-head stuff like pistons and differentials and transmissions, but the things I was doing this weekend were well within my capabilities. I fixed some wiring, replaced dashboard knobs, installed a grab bar and lap belts, swapped the old locks for new ones I have keys for, and trouble-shot a tail light problem. These were all–even drilling holes for the lap belt anchors–pretty straightforward tasks and while I was working on these fixes, I felt like a kid again.

Growing up, one of my favorite toys was my Erector Set. The set I had wasn’t anything like today’s versions. Almost everything in it was made of metal, not plastic. It had actual nuts and bolts, not thumbscrews and snap-together pieces. The metal beams and angle brackets were somewhat sharp at the edges, the set had no specialized parts, and the instructions were basically just pictures of what you might want to build instead of step by step Ikea-esque pictograms. The biggest difference, though, was that you could build anything, not just the one or two things for which the set was designed.

And build anything, I did.

I built the cranes and helicopters pictured in the booklet. I built skyscraper superstructures with playing card walls. I built things that weren’t anything at all, but that pleased my eye or used every piece in the set (or both). The Erector Set of my youth taught me about load strength, cross- and angle-bracing, lock-nuts, pulleys, and a hundred other practical attributes of construction. Mostly, though, the set taught me not to be afraid of working with my hands. Later, with this grounding in the basics, I taught myself household repair, woodworking, cabinetry, watch repair, and yes, car maintenance.

So, this afternoon, as I disassemble Pepper’s door panels to gain access to the door locks, it will be like I’m back in the old house on Briarwood Drive, sitting cross-legged on the linoleum, playing.

k

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Gossamer WheelFifty years ago, I was four and a half.

Fifty years ago, I learned that people die.

By that age, I knew what death was; I had already experienced the death of a loved one. One morning our cat, Cricket, dragged herself home, wounded beyond repair, crushed and half blind. My parents put her down. My mother explained it to me. We stood in the sun on our neighbor’s back porch, looking out over the salt marsh that Cricket loved to prowl. The air was warm and filled with the scent of salt and kelp. My mother stood behind me and told me of the wounds Cricket had suffered. She put a hand over one of my eyes to show me what it would have been like for her. I was saddened by it, of course–Cricket and I had a special bond; she trusted me enough to have her litter of kittens under my bed–but the way my mother explained it, I could see that it was a necessary thing. She was suffering, and the only way to end that suffering was to end her life. It was an act of love, an action not taken lightly.

But fifty years ago, I learned that people could die, too.

At that time, beyond my parents, my friends’ parents, friends of my parents’, and teachers, I knew of only two adults: Walt Disney and President Kennedy.

Fifty years ago today, President Kennedy died. Within the year, my mother would die. Shortly after that, Walt Disney would also be dead.

Those three deaths affected me profoundly. The grief born of that triple loss colored my outlook for decades; it affects me still, to be honest. From my place here on the far side of that tragic education, I can’t tell you how I am changed, only that I am changed.

Looking back fifty years, I remember that I was brought home early from school. I remember adults weeping, men in tears, a thing I had never seen. I felt infected by their grief, swept along by the current of their emotions. I had little concept of what a President was, but I knew who he was, and a few days later, when we watched the funeral on our small television, when I saw that riderless horse fighting the reins, fractious with distress, it all hit home.

People die, too.

Love them while you can.

k

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Gossamer Wheel

In outlining the new book, I create histories. As a result, and today being Veterans’ Day, I was reminded of something I discovered back in 1990.

You see, some American families have a long and celebrated history of military service. My family does not. Some families can measure their generations from war to war. My family cannot. (more…)

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Fifteen years ago, Disney got their hands on Hua Mulan, the legendary Chinese heroine, and used her to anchor their decidedly meh-worthy film, Mulan. Disney’s treatment was not the first film attempt to tell the story of this 6th century legend (the first film was made in 1927) nor, thankfully, was it the last.

Mulan: Rise of a Warrior (2009) is a live-action portrayal of the classic story of a young woman who, to save her ailing father, poses as a young man and takes his place in the military during the battles between the nation of Wei and the tribes of the Mongolian steppes. She spends twelve years a soldier, rising through merit, achieving the rank of general. When the war is resolved, she refuses the offices and lauds offered her for her service, and instead returns home to her village.

While no one is going to really mistake Zhao Wei for a man, she is by far the best choice from the other reported candidates under consideration. Moreover, Zhao turns in a strong performance, building layers of nuance and contradictory emotions, melding fury with vulnerability, grief with honor, and showing us through a strong and character-driven script a real character of strength.

Movies from China tend to have three things I dislike. I don’t like “wire” movies, where everyone is unconstrained by the laws of physics. I don’t like the Hong Kong Cinema kung fu movies, where again, physics are optional. And I don’t like the thoroughly predictable and incredibly depressing endings that a lot of movies out of modern Chinese cinema seem to have.

Therefore, this Mulan is a winner on several levels. It is not a “wire” movie, the battles (though many) are fairly earth-bound in their construction and execution, and though the film doesn’t end with a Big Red Bow, it’s a believable and realistic (for the time) outcome to an exceptionally unusual situation. More importantly, it’s a satisfying ending, and that’s too rare in the modern Chinese cinema (in my opinion).

Some of the characters are rather two-dimensional; villains are villainous without reason, and tyrants are tyrannical because it moves the plot along. Secondary characters are generally the same quirky but loyal caricatures of soldiers you’ll find in any film about the military. However, these failings do not pull down the whole movie. The complexity of characters like Mulan, Wentai, Fei, and the Rouran princess keep this film above the norm, and the intricacies of their relationships–the depth of their thoughts and reactions–keep us engaged.

Also worth mention is the exceptional costume design and art direction, which combine to give a verisimilitude to the exteriors, armor, and battles that can only enhance our enjoyment. Nothing stands out, here, as being anachronistic.

Exception to the above: for some reason, the director chose to cast a Russian singer, Vitas, as a servant to the Mongol khan. He seems to be there solely for his talent as a singer (his falsetto voice is remarkable), but he stands out like, well, like an Anglo amidst the Mongol horde. Frankly, I found him a distraction, and totally unnecessary to the tale.

Overall, though, I really enjoyed this movie, and would recommend it for any rainy weekend this winter.

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In retrospect, yesterday’s post was a bad idea and very out of character. I had misgivings and hesitated before posting, but I ascribed those feelings to being “brave” and maybe even a bit “edgy” with my choice of topic.

Nope. Instead, it came across as a petulant, whinge-filled pity-fest served with a big side of “Buy my book and tell me it’s grand.”

Ew…and therefore…my apologies. That was not what I wanted to say, and that is not what I want this blog to be about.

Here’s what I want to say, instead. (more…)

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I’m biased. There. I said it.

I’m biased, in that I like the books I’ve written. I can’t help it. Frankly, I wouldn’t be able to get through the writing part of being a novelist without liking the books I write. Writing a book I didn’t like? Not gonna happen.

So, I’m biased, and that’s unfortunate, because it makes it impossible for me to understand why Unraveling Time didn’t sell.

And I want to know.

Seriously. I want to have an honest, open conversation about why this book didn’t sell. (more…)

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Kurt R.A. Giambastiani

I’m always curious, when readers leave comments about my books, as to which of my novels is their favorite and why.

The answers are always varied. Sometimes it’s the subject matter, the period, or the setting. For others, it’s the characters who populate the pages. Occasionally, it’s just je ne sais quoi, that certain “something” that resonates with a particular reader.

Recently, though, the question was turned around; someone asked me what my favorite was. (more…)

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