Other Indie - Early 2017

by Matthew LeDrew

  For a novel that’s only 234 pages, that’s a lot to unpack, and this work may be in need of a “deep reading” in order to unearth all the treasures hidden within. 15 Minutes is a diamond in the crown of the time-travel genre, and one that deserves close examination.

  15 Minutes is available in print, eBook, and audiobook formats. Check it out, a must-read for people interested in supporting good independent  fiction and those who like my work.

  Review: Kowloon Walled City, 1984 by Nicholas Morine

  Kowloon Walled City, 1984 is a 2016 cultural thriller by Nova Scotia native Nicholas Morine and published by the Newfoundland indie company Problematic Press. It stars Fang, a heroin dealer for the 14K gang, as he rises to the top of the Kowloon fighting circuit and becomes embroiled in danger and violence as he deals with corrupt police, gang politics, and an annual martial arts tournament calling the very best warriors from across the globe called the Siu Nin a Fu. Will he make it out of this world alive? You’ll have to read it to see.

  For those who may not know, and I was among them, Kowloon Walled City was a densely populated, largely ungoverned settlement in Kowloon City, Hong Kong. Originally a Chinese military fort, the Walled City became an enclave after the New Territories were leased to Britain in 1898. In this novel, Morine takes great pains to infuse the text with enough cultural and symbolic references to immerse the reader in this foreign culture. The places he borrows from feel immediately real, and once the setting feels real he builds the characters to the same magnitude, and the stakes in kind, until the argument of the novel itself is upon you before you even know it. This novel sneaks up and takes you, much like the sort of fighter Fang must be to survive.

  As a recent graduate with an English major and Anthropology minor, this book checks all the boxes for me. It has a complex narrative with interesting and well-designed, well thought-out characters, but also teaches me about another segment of human culture that I hadn’t known about before. This is done through osmosis, not through heavy-handed exposition. We learn about Kowloon through the action, not via long diatribes or explanations. Morine takes care to balance introducing the setting to those who aren’t familiar with it while not patronizing those that are, no meager feat.

  As a novel, this book owes a lot to Rocky. By which I do not mean that this story reminds me of Rocky. What I mean is that this is that story of the danger and politics that surround a young lower-class man as he enters into the Kowloon fighting scene, ultimately culminating in a large fighting tournament. Until a certain point in our cultural tapestry, these types of stories always ended with the protagonist winning. But ever since the original Rocky and its popularity, we now cannot take that for granted. As such, every punch and kick thrown in the epic, bloody battles of the Siu Nin a Fu tournament are wrought with tension and dramatic suspense, which Morine delivers with expert prose and seamless pacing.

  I love taking the Freudian method of dream analysis and applying it to literature. Quick/Dirty rundown: you take the part of the book that bothered you the most, then spin the analysis so that that is what the book is about. At least, what it’s about for you.

  Kowloon Walled City, 1984 had possibly the most immediately- apparent thing that bothered me, and for once, I think it was actually intentional by the author (not that that matters in Freudian analysis).

  What bothered me about this story is that Kowloon Walled City no longer exists, the walls having come down in 1993. This bothers me, in no small part, because I myself am from a community which will likely, very soon, no longer exist in the form it always has: one of the last outport communities in Newfoundland. And while I understand the march of time and progress, something about that does stick with me.

  I can find loads of evidence to support an analysis of the text wherein Morine has crafted a story about places and cultures that no longer exist. Firstly is the title itself: it is literally the setting. The story isn’t called The Nine Battles of Fang or The Siu Nin a Fu, it’s called Kowloon Walled City, 1984, marking this story as not only being about this place, but about this time. Morine also could have chosen any point in Kowloon’s long history, but chose a time period less than a decade before the walls came down.

  Throughout the novel, Fang loses the support of his girlfriend and his father, two things that represent “home” for him, continuing this theme of ‘loss of home’ and ‘a loss of where one comes from.’ On page 230, Morine states (in reference to the police entering the Walled City) that “The foundations of Fang’s world were shaken.” On page 262, Fang goes as far to say: “Nothing changes. Nothing will change,” a dramatic irony when we, the readers, know that change is less than a decade off. The last lines of the novel, which I will not spoil, echo a similar sentiment.

  But what makes me think that this message was intentional on the part of the author and not merely my own personal feelings reading into the text comes from the first lines of the book, in the dedication, which reads: “To all those who dwell in communities that once were and are no longer.” Not only does this dedication point towards my analysis, but look at it. Really, look at the genius, masterful phrasing Morine has employed here: there is an important, subtle tense shift: dwell can have the double-meaning of being a place where one lives or someone dwelling on something. The fact that he uses it in the present-tense when speaking of settings that are in the past means that although it seems to be dedicated to those who lived in places that are no longer, it’s actually dedicated to those for whom thoughts of places that are no longer preoccupy. This sort of masterful, complex turn-of-phrase is just the tip of the Iceberg of what one can expect from this novel, and why Morine is poised to become one of the greatest novelists in Canada within the decade.

  Kowloon Walled City, 1984 needs to be read by everyone. It’s a novel that is very covertly about the changing and dissolving of culture, which is of great importance to many Newfoundlanders, many of whom see the same happening to their way of life.

  Kowloon Walled City, 1984 is available in print and eBook formats. Check it out, a must-read for people interested in supporting good independent fiction and anyone open minded enough to experience other cultures.

  Review: Zombies on the Rock: Outbreak by Paul Carberry

  Zombies on the Rock: Outbreak is a 2015 action-thriller by Corner Brook native Paul Carberry and was independently published via AuthorHouse, a self-publishing print-on-demand business based in the United States. It is set in the near future and stars an ensemble cast of likeable, identifiable characters as they deal with the very early onset of a zombie outbreak (hence the novel’s subtitle). Characters like Hank, Chris, Eric, and Cathy must navigate the astonishing and brutal landscape of this not-too-distant future in order to be among the survivors as the island of Newfoundland — and the entire world — is plunged into an apocalyptic nightmare.

  One of the great foibles of publishing genre fiction in Newfoundland is that it can be immensely limiting. If the story isn’t set in Newfoundland many local retailers won’t carry it, but if it IS set in Newfoundland it all too often destroys the reader’s suspension of disbelief: world-altering apocalyptic events don’t seem plausible in Newfoundland, hence why fiction of those genres tend to take place in populated hubs like New York or Los Angeles. What Carberry does in Zombies on the Rock is walk that fine line with style and finesse not often seen from an author’s first outing, so much so that this may be one of those rarest of rare gems: a horror novel which transcends its genre and becomes something more, permeating the cultural lexicon and becoming a genre unto itself.

  While the action takes place primarily on the west coast of Newfoundland (including several shout-outs of a place near and dear to my heart, Burgeo), Carberry makes it clear that this is a global event: as the first half of the noel progresses, news programs and stories come in about a rabies-like viral outbreak happening at different points around the globe… this is happening everywhere, Carberry just chooses to tell us the regional story of how this event a
ffects those local to western Newfoundland. In that respect the novel does for zombies what Signs did for aliens (which I say as a compliment).

  The people in this book react the way people of this province would: they see this disaster on the evening news and are rightly horrified, but at the same time they shrug and say “glad it’s not happening here.” We’re very guilty of that in Newfoundland, as our island affords us a certain degree of protection from epidemics that might run rampant in other parts of the world. This creates a sense of dread and suspense over the first half of the book, as the characters go about their lives unaware of the danger that is about to befall them. This is truly masterful suspense by Carberry, who clearly understands that suspense occurs when the reader knows something the character does not.

  This book is a fun action thrill-ride with lots of great characterization and careful plotting, but don’t let the fun you’ll have reading it fool you into thinking this is just another pulp novel: there’s more going on here from a literary sense as well. Carberry chose to name a company in this novel Pharmakon, something that did not go unnoticed. Those with a keen eye will find allusions and clever, biting commentaries that will enhance the read and elevates this from the sort of entry in the horror genre which is merely enjoyed to the sort of entry which is studied.

  What ‘bothered’ me about Zombies on the Rock were the scenes expressly dealing with Pharmakon, and the nearly one-dimensional way their greed and apathy negatively affected the lives of the innocents in this novel. It plays on  a general mistrust of power, a xenophobia that in the end is sadly justified as the epidemic spreads, forcing the Newfoundlanders to retreat in order to survive. I can point to many scenes that would support a reading of this text having an anti-corporate slant, such as any of the scenes with Pharmakon, or the scene when a pastor refers to the corporate greed of “charging $2.00 for water.” For anyone who understands Newfoundland history and Newfoundland culture, these are powerful statements, as many of us feel that “big corporations” and “outsiders” have been able to pillage our island for far too long, and long to return to a more natural and peaceful, traditional lifestyle… just as the surviving members of the novel are forced to near the end of the second act. Read this way, Carberry has written a cautionary tale that is a metaphor about the dangers of corporate greed — but even as it shows us the worst of what can happen, it gives us solace by reminding us that there is a solution.

  These are big, bold themes that have a broad appeal while still being, at their heart, decidedly Newfoundland. Carberry wisely doesn’t dwell too long on them, but like most great authors in the genre, he leaves enough on the bone to form thoughts and ideas in the minds of his readers about just what kind of future they want.

  This is an astonishing first novel from Paul Carberry. I read it over the course of two days, and in those two days my time was divided thusly: reading it, and wishing I were still reading it. Part police procedural, part action-thriller, and part disaster movie, Zombies on the Rock is a must-read for any fans of the horror genre, and any who think that independent genre authors in Newfoundland don’t have anything to offer.

  Zombies on the Rock: Outbreak is available in print and electronic formats. Check it out, a must-read for people interested in supporting good independent fiction and those who like my work.

  Review: Flight or Fight by Scott Bartlett

  Written by Sam Bauer

  The end of our world fascinates us. From Ragnarok, the end of the world in Norse mythology, to the groundbreaking 1984 by George Orwell, to the more modern Hunger Games and Maze Runner, not to mention countless disaster movies, TV shows and video games. It is enough to make one sick of dystopia, groan at zombies, and run screaming from a nuclear or biological holocaust. (Though I must admit, I do the last one on basic principle.) Indeed, it is rare for me to find a dystopic or apocalyptic novel that I enjoy.

  But, as the more astute of you have already guessed, I have found a rarity. Its name is Flight or Fight, a 2016 cyberpunk satire written by Scott Bartlett and published by Mirth Publishing.

  Taking place in the Schrodinger-awful city of Dodge, a governmentless, anarchic place where everything is run by private corporations, everybody hates their job, and everybody works to get on a plane to the “New World”, a place of peace and plenty. Early in the novel, the main character, Carl Intoever, is told he is the messiah of the only religion -that being Probabilism- and as such, is labelled “Schrodinger reborn.” The novel then chronicles his change from being desperate to “get out of Dodge” so he may fulfill his destiny in the new world to that of taking on the corrupt establishment of Dodge at great personal risk.

  What I focused on in the novel was the handling of the economy. Now, I know that economic arguments are often seen as boring, but I would argue that the whole premise of the novel is based in economics. The city of Dodge is without any government, instead it is run by corporations. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is free. You buy load times for your sites through “Net-Neutrality” subscriptions. Your activity is monitored through social media and a video recording of your life, called your “LifeLog”, resulting in other corporations buying that info to jack up prices for important meals, taxi rides, and probably anything, based on how much they can extort from you. It is almost comical, a caricature of the ideas of Libertarianism, Laissez-Faire Capitalism, and the current interference of large corporations in government.

  Touted often by the characters in the novel is the idea of the Free Market. Xavier Ofvalour, the person with the highest “LifeRank” -basically a leaderboard for life, with certain actions increasing your score and certain actions decreasing it- is known as the “Hand of the Market”. But, as certain characters make evidently clear, the market is not really free. It is controlled by monopolies, with a social system that punishes innovation by removing credit from the innovator and giving it to the one in power. It is stagnant, with the populace being fed the lie that “innovation is not needed, as technology has met the needs of the people completely.” Despite this being absolutely false, even in the context of the novel, the sentiment is, in a way, right if even only for the world of the novel.

  Without spoiling anything, the state of affairs in Dodge can be thought of as the endstate of laissez-faire capitalism. Without an effective government, companies would grow larger and larger, eventually get to the point where they have no competitors, and the need to innovate is gone. Companies would take over the normal role of government. Innovation would stifle, and quality of life would decrease. Human rights would begin to crumble, and a despotic government of the rich would rule. Exactly as it does in Fight or Flight. But enough of my rambling about how I adore this dystopic view of laissez-faire capitalism, how is the novel as a novel?

  The thought with which Scott Bartlett tackles this philosophical dystopia is both the strongest and weakest point of the novel. A big plus to Fight or Flight is the use of topical terms. The idea of having a “net neutrality subscription” brings memories of the constant stream of videos and posts about the near abolishment of the real world’s net neutrality laws, and pulls me deeper into seeing if this world is possible from our own. Another large plus is the lack of privacy and how pervasive it is. Nothing is really secret. People can see your life from your eyes, with the right to shut off that service limited to corporate employees given that right and preachers. That lack of privacy combined with the pervasiveness of technology is sinisterly similar to our world in the same way as 1984. The monetization of everything, as well as the bureaucratic opaqueness with hints of Catch-22, adds to the other strong points and creates a potent and slightly unsettling world, as any good satire should.

  What bothered me about Flight or Fight comes from same place as the highest points, the world. From early on, the only religion is Probabilism. This is where Carl’s title of “Schrodinger Reborn” is from. But, save for this crucial role, the religion is mentioned in passing, with someone being “A devout Probibalist” and the use of “
prayer dice.” But there is nothing more made of it. Carl goes to a sermon at one point, reminds the reader that he is “Schrodinger Reborn” on occasion, but the church remains ever unexplored. It carries the sinister corporate pseudo-slogan of it being “the only religion left because all others were outcompeted” and at points seems to act as a way to influence the populace, but nothing is really made of it.

  Flight or Fight (The Out of Dodge Trilogy Book 1) by Scott Bartlett is available in print and electronic formats. I thoroughly enjoyed this take on laissez-faire capitalism taken to the extreme, and Scott Bartlett has earned his place on my shelf beside the likes of George Orwell and Joseph Heller. I recommend it to everyone, and look forwards to reading more from Scott Bartlett.

  Review: Standing Tall: A Daughter’s Gift by Jaqui Tam

  A Daughter’s Gift is a 2010/12 (depending on the edition) IPPY Award-winning memoir written by the acclaimed and accomplished Jacqui Tam. It chronicles the life of her father, Richard Joseph Barron, and his struggle with Alzheimer’s Disease, as well as she and her family’s coming to terms with it. It is unique in that it can be read as a memoir from two points of view: both as Tam’s account of her father’s illness and as a posthumous memoir of the man himself, preserving the memories of this great man in a way his illness, sadly, prevented him from doing.

  Tam writes: Richard Joseph Barron had sailed the world over, fought in war, and returned home to Newfoundland to raise three children with his beloved wife. His life had been full of adventure, and he shared his stories without malice or ego, whenever he was asked. Until they were stolen from his memory. When ‘Dick’ Barron fought Alzheimer’s, awareness of the disease was still limited. He knew that he was forgetting, but not why. His family knew that he was disappearing, but not how. Yet beneath the shadow of that slow tragedy, the spirit of his life was not lost. Emerging from the darkness, his daughter learned an important truth: what the mind forgets, the soul remembers.