Earlier this month I checked out WonderCon with some folks. Amidst the Stormtroopers, Buzz Lightyears, the hooded and the cloaked, I let my inner geek run free in this ultimate safe zone.
I was excited to see Max Brooks, author of The Zombie Survival Guide and World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War. Speaking about his writing, he revealed the origins of the Guide as a project he took on for himself, for the sheer interest in examining what would happen if you took a “fictional” concept and situated it in the real world, with what we take to be true of science, military technology, human psychology, politics, and historical precedent. It was, like most things done for the love of it, created during off-hours, amassed in a drawer, dedicated to that [zombie]-loving kid inside. Despite attempts to categorize him (“Two books on the undead?– Zombie guy!”, “Son of Mel Brooks, writes for SNL–funny guy!”), he said he plans to stick to writing what he himself has a deep interest in, whatever it may be next, because unlike writing something to sell, if he writes something and loves it, it won’t matter if it never makes it out of the drawer.
And World War Z, my first venture into the world of zombies, has been surprisingly great (even though I had to read most of it on sunny weekend afternoons at Lake Merritt because I get the creeps fairly easily). Honestly, I prefer vampires, witches, tortured beings often with twisted semblances of their former humanity in turmoil, or at least, accessible in some remote way. Aliens, even, bring their own values and customs and thinking patterns. Zombies? Soulless. Revolting. The absolutely predictable, guilt-free enemy. Too easy, if you ask me.
But the oral history approach of WWZ–the macro view of what humanity becomes in the face of extinction, how different countries and cultures react–hooked me in. Brooks credited the late Studs Terkel with the inspiration for this narrative structure. In 1992 Terkel published The Good War: An Oral History of World War II, which documented 141 interviews some forty years after the events, winning a Pulitzer Prize.
Over at the Oni Press table, I stumbled upon the graphic novel Lola: A Ghost Story. Jesse, a young Filipino Canadian, visits the Philippines with his parents for his lola’s funeral. He, like his lola, is able to see the supernatural–from his dead cousin to the kapre, manananggal, and other monsters of Philippine folklore. Because the monsters your grandparents tell you about always end up being more terrifying than Hollywood scary masks and Satanic dolls, I did end up having some mild nightmares, but really, I guess I’m going to have to grow up a little. Although I did find out that I probably get this fear from my dad, who is (still) deathly afraid of ouija boards, aswang, and dwende, according to my mom.
And while I’m on it, here are some photos from this fresh exhibit I went to in December, Tabi Tabi Po at 1am Gallery in the City. And below, a clip from Myx on the Move. Contemporary takes on the legendary creatures of my dad’s nightmares.
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Ha! I also have a copy of Lola, bought from a small comic shop in Oakland’s Laurel District. And I am still afraid of ouija boards (if a game is going on, I am outta there), mirrors in the night, and aswang (bring your bawang to ward them off).