Is it okay if I just end my review right here? After all, in an ideal world, one sentence of profuse praise for James Renner’s debut novel would be enough to convince you to go to Amazon right now and hit “purchase.”

But that’s not how it works, is it? You might trust my taste from reading previous reviews, but we still don’t know each other well enough for you to turn over hard-earned money on a blind recommendation.

Normally right about now I’d present a thorough synopsis of this novel, but straying too far from the opening chapter risks this review running the length of a novel itself due to the sheer amount of “spoiler alerts” I’d have to include.

What I do feel safe in revealing is that the first chapter of The Man From Primrose Lane begins, as so many of the best mysteries do, with a murder. An old hermit is found dead in his house. A bullet has pierced his chest, his fingers have been chopped off and stuffed into a nearby blender. I suppose it’s safe to venture just a little further into the plot… our protagonist David Neff, a famous true crime author (who shares many similarities with Renner) is tasked with uncovering the hermit’s murderer.

This procedural might be a conventional narrative tightrope, but the moment Renner’s plot steps upon it, it begins to deliriously (and sometimes drunkenly) dance. As our protagonist descends into the investigation, most typical thrillers would pivot on three major twists, placed in the well-hued final three quarters of the book.  Renner includes these narrative benchmarks, but then this overachieving novelist has the audacity to bend turns into the twists, fill subplots with nano-plots and add-in tones and genres like an ambidextrous juggler who not only continues to toss new items into the air when it seems everything should have crashed long ago, but reveals additional limbs along the way.

Yes, there are several elements that strain credulity and try our patience. These literary misdemeanors are most rampant in the final third of the novel where a first-person narration from a new character jarringly joins the already existing third-person view, while the suddenly inch-long Dan Brown-esque chapters reeks of a cheap (and unneeded) attempt to build suspense.

But by the time we arrive to those final hundred-odd pages Renner has provided us with enough narrative adhesive that he could introduce tap-dancing dinosaurs, a feral band of cat magicians or even spunky single girls living in the Big Apple and we’d still go the distance with him, if for no other reason than to see if he’ll really be able to tie the size sixteen shoe plot he has constructed.

Amazingly enough, Renner actually managed to end the book without a shake of the head or snicker from this reader. Better yet, when finished, the first thing you’ll want to do is start over, which you giddily realize was Renner’s plan all along.

There’s one other reason to purchase The Man From Primrose Lane. Quite simply, it’s the best mystery/thriller/horror/romance/science-fiction/fantasy novel you’ll read this year.

Follow Ryan Dixon on Twitter @ryanbdixon. Order a copy of his graphic novel Hell House: The Awakening. Follow author James Renner on Twitter @JamesRenner.

As the novel opens in 1972, Nixon is cruising toward a second term with an all-but-inevitable election victory over George McGovern. He has every reason to believe that his decades of hard work are finally going to pay off and he will finally be able to move past the painful, crushing defeats. After all, the bêtes noires of the previous decade have been vanquished— assassins’ bullets and Chappaquiddick have neutered the Kennedy’s, Lyndon Johnson is a long-haired recluse back in Texas, Vietnam is in its final (albeit protracted) death rattle, and the Iron Curtain has been revealed to be made mostly of scrim.

Yet, the past is the great unseen, parasitic antagonist of Mallon’s novel. So powerful in fact, that it consumes the characters more so than the cover-up itself. The scandal metastasizes up the chain of command and soon not even the perpetrators are sure what really happened during the night they broke into the Democratic National Committee headquarters at the Watergate office complex or, in fact, why they did so.

As the novel marches towards its well-known conclusion (no need for spoiler alerts in this book review), “Watergate” – the place, the crime, the cover-up, the scandal – reveals its true form as a wrathful, deadly and ethereal phantom, come to take its final revenge. Just when you thought it was safe to leave the 60s…

While previous fictional works that tackled all-things Watergate have often been presented from clearly defined points-of-view, Mallon structures his novel like one of Shakespeare’s history plays, seamlessly guiding us around all tiers of power and ambition in the D.C. hierarchy. That Richard Nixon isn’t the star of his own cabaret and is instead just another tap dancing ensemble member allows him to be seen in a completely new and complex light. Venturing to add to the seemingly infinite comparisons of our 37th President to famous stage characters, one could equate this Nixon with another mangled icon of mid-century American malaise, Arthur Miller’s Willy Loman.

While both Mallon’s Nixon and Loman drag the past with them like an intractable piece of carry-on luggage, one of the most impressive feats of Mallon’s imagination is to makes us realize that Nixon was no more a Willy Loman than he was just a figure out of Shakespearean or Greek tragedy, a psychopath, a paranoid, a drunk, a Machiavellian, a racist, a progressive.

The real Richard Nixon might have been all of those things, but he was also so much more. That’s why portrayals throughout the years, from the rightfully acclaimed performances of Anthony Hopkins and Frank Langella to even Dan Hedaya’s acting alchemy in Dick never seem to capture the man in full. It’s Mallon who has finally figured out the secret sauce: Richard Nixon defines us more than we could ever define him. He is his own archetype.

And it’s just the Old Man’s luck that he’s made all the more fascinating in Watergate by getting to share Mallon’s glittering stage with three female characters of equal depth. While Pat Nixon, Rose Mary Woods, Nixon’s secretary, and Alice Roosevelt Longworth, the grand dame of D.C. politics, each share a unique love for Richard Nixon, it is by no means blind loyalty.

Mallon paints the trio’s dedication to Nixon in specific, complicated ways and each character is provided with their own imaginative space outside his presidency. Pat Nixon fondly drifts in and out of the memory of an extramarital affair that took place during their exile years in New York, between the time her husband lost the California governor’s race in 1962 and the 1968 presidential election. Rose Mary Woods struggles to balance her monk-like dedication to her boss with having a semblance of life outside 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. And then there’s Alice Roosevelt Longworth, the nonagenarian daughter of President Theodore Roosevelt. She knows where all the bodies are buried and serves her endless supply of bons mots with a side of acid strong enough to make the creature in Alien melt.

While Alice Longworth practically steals every scene she’s in, Mallon isn’t satisfied with simply making her a Lady Bracknell for the DC set. As the novel progresses, she’s revealed to be the ideal emotional consigliere for Nixon. Below her hilariously cutting, emeritus ice queen routine is a roiling sea of unending torment made manifest by the suicide of her only daughter decades before. Like Nixon, the triumphs, grudges and secrets of the past both provide her with unwielding power and hold her hostage. It’s of no surprise then that near the end of the novel, on the night before Nixon’s resignation, it’s Longworth who sets weepy, self-pitying Tricky Dick on the course towards eventual public redemption.

While Mallon works hard at giving Watergate perpetrators such as Fred LaRue and Howard Hunt three dimensions, one can’t help but be slightly disappointed when the novel says temporary farewells to Nixon and his Three Graces. (Of course, it’s a very forgivable sin to write characters with so much depth that they hold our imagination captive even when we’re not with them.)

Only Elliot Richardson, the Massachusetts blue blood who foolishly thinks that the key to his own presidency will be resigning from his post as Attorney General when he refuses Nixon’s order to fire Watergate special prosecutor Archibald Cox, makes a manly impression. Richardson is the consummate Washington player, bouncing from job to job like Tigger, always analyzing how the next post can get hem closer to the throne. But as Mallon deftly reveals, many of those “can’t miss” moves have hidden booby traps and an heir apparent can just as quickly become an exile of his own making.

For the most part, Mallon has managed to endow his novel with a narrative and expositional balance that should satisfy those who once thought kaftans were sexy and those who believe that “gate” was always just a generic adjective for scandal. What matters most is that Mallon has far surpassed the basic goal of any successful work of historical fiction. History doesn’t just come alive in Watergate, the novel feels more real than fact.

Follow Ryan Dixon on Twitter @ryanbdixon. Order a copy of his graphic novel Hell House: The Awakening HERE.

Often shelved in the back rooms of those pre-Blockbuster video stores located in strip malls, grocery stores and along lonely roadsides, this mondo masterpiece was spoken of by those who had seen it in a hushed, foreboding tone reminiscent of Large Marge’s admonition to the hitchhiking Pee-Wee. A dark fate surely awaited anyone brave enough to press play.

However, aside from the rather pedestrian suicides, autopsies, and slightly more elevated baby seal clubbing, the most fondly remembered scenes – everything from the eye -bleeding electrocution to that cute grizzly nibbling on a little foie gras d’ humain – were, alas, fake.

In hindsight, that the film was narrated by one “Dr. Francis B. Gross” should have been a red flag regarding its legitimacy. But my teenage self really wanted to believe that someone had actually shot footage of young women (surprisingly buxom, considering the supposed Third World trappings) sacrificing a willing man, eating his flesh and engaging in an orgy where the corpse’s blood proved a far better lubricant than K-Y Jelly ever could. I’d be lying if I said that along with being repulsed, I also wasn’t kind of turned on.

In his fascinating, but ultimately frustrating new book, Wake Forest professor Eric G. Wilson dives into this fecund topic of morbid curiosity. It’s the sort of high concept that will intrigue readers before they even read the flap. After all, the title says it all:  Everyone Loves a Train Wreck: Why We Can’t Look Away.

Wilson gets right to the heart of the matter, hooking us with an effective teaser, his account of turning on the television on the afternoon of Tuesday, September 11, 2001:

“…the footage at this point was… gruesomely beautiful: swelling ebony smoke against the blue horizon. And the film inspired this staggering thought: “‘Here is one of those rare ruptures from which history will not recover, and I am alive at its occurrence.’ I felt exhilarated, inappropriately, and I was ashamed.”

We delve into the second chapter expecting Wilson to serve as both teacher and therapist. He’ll put a figurative hand on our shoulder and whisper, “It’s okay,” while revealing why we spend late nights searching for roller coaster accidents on YouTube or slow down while passing a fatal pile up, despite complaining about others who do so.

Instead, we’re quickly confronted with that hung over, 8:00 a.m. class realization that the professor should have spent a little more time on his syllabus. Wilson tarnishes his well-played teaser with several chapters that could have easily been combined to form a readable introduction. Separately, however, they serve up a deathly dull cocktail of personal exposition (“I am an English professor obsessed with the Gothic worlds…”) and lots and lots and lots of questions that we’ve already asked ourselves many times before purchasing the book, such as:

“ What is the meaning of suffering?”
“What is the significance of death?”
“Do all children like to blow things up?”
“When does a site of wreckage, where lost loved ones are buried, become holy ground?”
“Why am I so interested in the morbid?”

Even though Wilson seems physically incapable of writing chapters that stretch beyond five pages, the narrative remains stuck in neutral for much of the book’s first half. Within this bite-sized buffet there are some promising beginnings like a profile of “gore hound” Rick Stanton, a collector of serial killer memorabilia. Stanton’s hobby seems an ideal set-up to explore the history of collecting relic grotesqueries like the foreskin of Christ, but Wilson doesn’t bring that topic up until much later in the book and does so without utilizing the organic context Stanton’s story offered.

Ironically, the one chapter that does feel fully fleshed out also almost derails the book. After some heady theorizing on the societal appeal of serial killers, Wilson contacts Joyce Carol Oates, considered a literary expert on the topic thanks to her chilling, first-person serial killer novel Zombie and influential New York Review of Books essay “I Had No Other Thrill Of Happiness.”

Wilson requests confirmation on his belief “that celebrity serial killers are psychologically rich revelations of our deepest fears and desires.”

Oates instead delivers a devastating riposte, stating in no uncertain terms that Wilson seems “to be concentrating on superficial elements” and that “…the more you know (about real serial killers), the less enthralled you are likely to be.”

Instead of valiantly defending arguments to which the reader has just dedicated several hours of their life reading, Wilson suddenly wonders if he was “relying too much on theory and not enough on experience.”

But Wilson doesn’t stop at this rather embarrassing disclosure. He then takes his previously stated admiration of Hamlet to the breaking point, subverting his status as authorial expert to become his own uncertain protagonist:

“I wish I could say that I overcame these anxieties by having a revelation that once more restored my confidence—an intuition disclosing the true nature of the morbid, say, or a discovery of ironclad evidence for Jung’s theory of the shadow. The doubt, insecurity, persisted (and persists)….What if I’m shallow? What if I’m missing the point? What if I’m dead wrong?”

This is not what you want to hear from an author after forking over $22 for their book. Thankfully, Oates smackdown scares Wilson away from anymore faux poetic musings about serial killers or other dark night of the soul stuff. His focus turns to the more tactile elements of macabre curiosity and the book shows signs of life, starting with a meditation on how an adolescent Thomas Hardy was turned on by the corpse of a woman he saw being hanged. This little bit of literary sex ed provides an effective on-ramp for our own introspection on the secret sexual appeal of undesirables like Casey Anthony and Ted Bundy.

Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck reaches its emotional peak with passages exploring how the ever-lingering presence of death influences our lives in surprising ways. An analysis of how the great poets formed our contemporary ideas on death segues into a profile on Nowell Briscoe. Briscoe is a Southerner with a passion for collecting the obituaries of family, friends and interesting strangers he has come across like “a beloved teacher who reminds him of his own high school history instructor or a man so eccentric that he sported a walrus mustache and pince-nez glasses in 2009.” Written with a subtle, quiet power (and thankfully devoid of Wilson’s first-person intrusions), these passages succeed at investigating the book’s major themes with satisfying depth while also providing us with a reading experience that mirrors it; we become as fascinated by the idea of death as the personages Wilson profiles.

Unfortunately, the spell is soon broken. Wilson’s journey to Gettysburg and the precious few pages devoted to the “dark tourism” industry is an unsatisfying aperitif to a subject that demands its own book.

Much of Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck’s final pages are dedicated to Wilson’s own struggles with bipolar disorder. While honestly written, Wilson performs stunts Cirque du Soleil wouldn’t attempt in order to thematically connect this admission to everything that has come before. One also can’t help but be annoyed that Wilson wastes page space on his own troubles when we are still so hungry for more information on the numerous topics, almost all equally fascinating, he has already touched ever so briefly upon.

If Eric G. Wilson had decided to truly explore the topic of morbid curiosity and not just offer a survey course, then Everyone Loves a Good Train Wreck might have tapped into the many unmentionable macabre attractions hiding within all of us. Instead, the book is like an harried tour guide, rushing readers past topics and themes, providing all-too-brief glimpses into the true beauty and horror of the various subjects before declaring that it’s time to move on.

If you want to read a real train wreck, follow Ryan Dixon on Twitter @ryanbdixon. Order a copy of his graphic novel, Hell House: The Awakening here.

Comprised of chapters devoted to the dreams young Albert Einstein had while working on his theory of relativity, Einstein’s Dreams was the “it” book of 1992. One could find it both within the backpacks of lit majors and atop strollers of soccer moms. It wasn’t hard to see why. Lightman had a genius for merging seemingly incomprehensible scientific topics into illusive narratives laced with hypnotic lyricism. After reading it, everyone felt smarter and a little more human.

Consuming the book in one sitting as a young teenager, Einstein’s Dreams didn’t so much change my reading taste as reveal it. The novel was the perfect first date to a lifelong relationship with fictional fabulists like Borges, Eco, and Calvino. It showed that a fictional world could still be a fantastical place even without fire-breathing dragons flying overhead.

Following a series of more traditional narrative novels and non-fiction works that failed to have the impact of his fictional debut, Mr g seems conceived, conceptually and marketing-wise, to deliberately echo Einstein’s Dreams. When put side-by-side, both titles create a sort of cosmic Rashomon; Dreams focused on the secrets of the universe from man’s point-of-view, Mr g is a memoir of the creation as told by God.

As a novel, unfortunately, Mr g is a still-born prose universe brought forth by a well-meaning creator who is in over his head.

Einstein’s Dreams succeeded in part because the ethereal nature of dreams freed Lightman from worrying about typically essential novelistic elements like characters and plot.  Lightman’s attempt to incorporate those same elements in Mr. g result in muddled incoherence.

Mr g’s narrator is not a booming-voiced and bearded Yahweh/Zeus hybrid or even a wisecracking George Burns clone.  He’s the nebbish nephew of two other gods, Aunt Penelope and Uncle Deva. (Don’t let their distinguished mythological names fool you, on the page Aunt P. and Uncle D. read like to wacky supporting characters from a rejected 80s TV pilot.)

On a whim our narrator creates several infant universes in a manner that could only be described as Quantum Jenga. Watching as his handiwork churns from chaos into creation, he eventually becomes attached to one universe in particular (bet you can’t guess which one?). As for the novel’s emotional thru-line, instead of “a boy and his dog,” think “a boy and his universe.”

Onto the void where our narrator resides, the mysterious Belhor arrives to challenge the conception of free will and the nature of evil, a duel that forms the thematic battleground for the rest of the novel. (Somewhat inexplicably, two creatures also accompany Belhor. By the description, they sound like less frightening [and far less funny] versions of the devil dogs Zuul and Vinz Clortho from Ghostbusters.)

In the many short chapters that follow, there are visits to various planets, omniscient interior monologues about the nature of existence and creaky vaudeville routines supposedly intended as comic relief. The low point of the novel is also one of the longest chapters; Belhor, in what can only be considered a failed audition to become the sixth Marx brother, causes chaos at an opera house located on a water-covered planet. (No, I’m not kidding.)

If Lightman had aborted the malformed conceit of anthropomorphizing the creation of the universe, Mr g could have perhaps achieved the same profundity of Einstein’s Dreams. Instead, the only times Mr g resuscitates from its fatal overdose of “cuteness” and “preciousness” is when Lightman removes the veil of novel writing and allows chapters exploring such topics as mortality and infinity to be straight up essays, an art form at which he excels.

And while Lightman’s ideas of how life would evolve on planets with different proximities to the sun are fascinating, his decision to devote so much page space to other worlds when ours is, in my humble opinion, mysterious enough, is a near-fatal miscalculation. I understand that there’s probably a lot more going on in the universe aside from all things Earth, but couldn’t we have at least discovered what the creator thinks about Tim Tebow?

Speaking of Tim Tebow, intentionally or not, proponents of intelligent design have their first legitimate work of literature. By giving the act of creation a persona, no matter how unbiblical, Lightman is still writing from the point of view of a creator. If Lightman were a more polished comic writer (imagine what Woody Allen could do with this concept?), the nagging feeling that one is reading an explicitly creationist work wouldn’t be nearly as strong, nor would the question of the author’s specific theological beliefs cast such an uncomfortable shadow. It’s hard to forget that Lightman, an exceedingly accomplished dual professor of theoretical physics and humanities at M.I.T., also likes to dip his toe into the murky pond of the spiritual.

Since Mr g forgoes scientific secularism and embraces that watered down religion on the rocks known as “spirituality,” any sort of passionate readership it finds will likely consist of those looking for pulpy self-help comfort food on Target book shelves rather than the seemingly infinite array of humanity who continue stare up at Einstein’s Dreams in awe and wonderment.

Follow Ryan Dixon on twitter @ryanbdixon. Order a copy of his graphic novel Hell House: The Awakening.

Why couldn’t I have read that book?

Considering that one of his previous novels focused on a travel agency that sold prostitution packages to Thailand and that several others contain enough sex and violence to make the Marquis de Sade blush, I had a large bottle of hand sanitizer at the ready when reading Michel Houellebecq’s new novel, THE MAP AND THE TERRITORY. Sadly, what I really needed by the end was a six pack of Red Bull.

At least from the view of these shores, the wave of controversy that surrounded THE MAP AND THE TERRITORY, which won the Prix Goncourt, France’s highest literary award, is rather perplexing. The novel follows artist Jed Martin as he reveals a new series of paintings after a ten year hiatus.  In order to get as much press attention as possible for his gallery opening, he commissions a certain Michel Houellebecq to write the essays for the catalog. The show’s a hit, there’s a gruesome murder and that’s about it.

As a satire on art and society the novel reads like Bret Easton Ellis on Prozac. And even though Houellebecq follows in the footsteps of Martin Amis by casting himself as a major supporting character, the novel is devoid of any other post-modern narrative game playing, aside from a brief detour into Grand Guignol thriller territory that is swiftly brushed aside without a satisfying  pay-off.  To be fair, Houellebecq isn’t interested in narrative pay-off, or storytelling at all really, as he made abundantly clear in a 2010 Paris Review interview with Susannah Hunnewel:

“You might get the impression that I have a mild contempt for storytelling, which is only somewhat true…At first, I don’t obey, I don’t plot, but then from time to time, I say to myself, Come on, there’s got to be a story. I control myself. But I will never give up a beautiful fragment merely because it doesn’t fit in the story.”

And Houellebecq’s novel really is nothing more than a series of fragments (some a lot less beautiful than others) on art, aging, assisted suicides, urban living, etymology, decapitation, etc., etc. Yet, this all-you-can-eat buffet of ideas would have perhaps been edible if The Map and the Territory were truly a novel of ideas. But to even his most ardent supporters, the essayistic elements are the least interesting aspect of Houellebecq’s work. For example, after calling Map “excellent,” Slate writer Vincent Glad complained (in the same sentence, no less) that Houellebecq’s digressions were “tedious.”

Ironically or not, Houellebecq seems to relish playing the role of polymath. But the joke’s on him. The hoarding and distribution of knowledge has almost no currency in our all-access, On Demand culture. What’s important is the delivery, the take, the angle. Unless you’re trying to compete on Jeopardy,  knowing something just isn’t enough anymore.

Any grudging admiration for Houellebecq’s exhausting digressions is finally ground into dust upon learning that last year SlateFr discovered that many of them were taken, sometimes verbatim, from Wikipedia. Houellebecq didn’t abjectly apologize at this J’accuse, however. Instead, he argued that this re-use wasn’t copying at all, but just part of his style, a “patchwork, weavings, interlacings,” and that other writers (like Georges Perec) incorporated encyclopedic facts in far more blatant and plagiaristic ways. (I have to admit I find this defiant stance a breath of fresh air in comparison to authors like James Frey who, in order to win back the media’s good graces, eagerly lie prostrate in front of bloated cultural king makers like her divine O’ness.)

The question as to whether or not lifting Wikipedia content is a legitimate (or even legal) artistic choice is one for another day, however. All we can be sure of is that Houellebecq’s use of it results in a tedious reading experience. Despite the accompanying hype, controversy and acclaim, at least to this American’s eyes, The Map and the Territory is written in an unintelligible foreign language.

Follow Ryan Dixon on Twitter @ryanbdixon. Order a copy of his graphic novel, Hell House: The Awakening.

Once again most of our bloggers are resolving to lose weight and hit writing goals this year — we’re kind of predictable in that way. However, maybe because of the continued recession or the fact that we’re getting older, almost all of the resolutions seem a bit more practical this year — except for Sarah Fazeli’s. Actually, I think that’s why I like Sarah Fazeli’s resolution best of all. 

BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, … AND LOSE WEIGHT

My resolution last year was to “change my eating habits for the better.” I did that, and even though it took me till the last few months to do so, I have managed to not only succeed, but also to drop 30 pounds in the process. My resolution for 2012: to stick with my gym habits and keep working out till I reach my goal. If I stick to it like I have over the last few months, I will be healthier and more fit than I have ever been in my whole life.

Zack Bunker from Tall Glass of Shame and Runway Rundown

Lose 25 pounds.  In 2011 I think I gained 25 pounds.  So I am looking to go back to 2010 basically.
Patrick Connolly from Piping Hot Nerd: Adventures of a Bagpiper Mastering Manhattan

My 2011 resolutions were: keep my job, lose weight, finish novel. I did all of those things: kept the job until they fired all of us, lost weight and then gained half of it back, and yes, I finished the novel. This year the big resolution is to get paid to write, for the first time ever. The rest is always the same. Lose weight. Work. Be happy. All that. Goes without saying.
Gudrun Cram-Drach from Secret Life of an Expat

I think that for 2011 I resolved to be nicer to myself, and I think for the most part I have been pretty good at refraining from constant self-recrimination.  For 2012, I resolve to take better care of my health.  I’ll be thirty-five this year, and while a marathon is not my style, I’d like to maintain my recent healthy habits like walking and eating more veggies, and add some new ones in time.  Also, I’d like to be less angry.  I’m pretty sure it will kill me or incarcerate me if left untreated.
Roya Hamadani from Fierce Foodie

Since I didn’t make a resolution last year, I didn’t have to stick to one. It worked out really well. Can’t I just stick with that one for this year too? No? Ok, I resolute that I will lose 10 pounds (and gain it back, and lose it, and gain it back again, and, well… you get the picture).

Frankie V from Frankie Says…

I always keep my resolutions pretty simple and vague, as to make them easily achievable. So this year I will continue to “show them all”, “get even” , and “settle the score”… oh and lose ten to fifteen more pounds.

Sam the Sham from FIERCE ANTICIPATION

BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, … AND WRITE! 

Maybe this is how it goes when you have kids – your New Years resolutions become lifetime resolutions.  Maybe I’ll get last years done this year, maybe I won’t, but I can certainly start.  Keep working on my scripts.  Shoot a microbudget feature film.  Plug away at the self indulgent novel that I know at least 5 people want to read.  Find a good day care for my sprouting child.  Run a 5K in under 30 minutes.  See my friends more.  Score a goal.  Surf.  Dunk.  Get a dog.  Buy a house, if only to no longer be president of the HOA.  Too many?  Too few?  Too early to start now?
Josh Pullin from Stay-at-Home Dad

The one thing I didn’t get around to is finishing my memoir THE YEAR THAT SUCKED. So, that’s what I’ll do in 2011. Really. Honest. I just took a memoir intensive course and ventured into a writing partnership for just that purpose. Plus, if I don’t finish it this year, then I’ll have to face up to you guys next year. I don’t wanna do that. Oh and I need to lose 20 lbs before our big 10th Anniversary party in June.

Amy Robinson, Blogumnist Editor and writer of Tall Drink of Nerd

So the 2011 goals – Overall grade: C-

• Write one new novel, one new screenplay, and shoot one short film. Check on the novel. CHeck on the screenplay. Fail on the short film.
• Volunteer two days per month. Total fail. I tried to assuage my guilt by over-donating to my regular charities. While they were happy, I’m still faced with the knowledge I didn’t get out into the real world and help others.
• Limit news/political intake to 15 minutes per day. This probably wound up being about right. But only because there were days when I was on a complete media blackout and other days where I didn’t stop reading HuffPo. Providing that it’s possible to fail through success.

2012 Goals:

• Be better. In general and specifically.
• Volunteer once a month.
• Write ten pages per day, every weekday.

R. B. Ripley from Hyperbolic Tendencies

THE RESOLUTIONS THAT (GASP!) DON’T INVOLVE WRITING OR WEIGHT LOSS

I will finally do that burlesque show I’ve been talking about since 2009. There. Now I’m on the record! I’ll be the one in a wig and glitter. Get out your tassles, Frances!

Sarah Fazeli from Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered

Less moping, more hoping!  (which is kind of ambitious for an election year) (and seems like a more succinct iteration of last year’s resolution) (so we’ll see how it goes)

Michael Kass from Single White Nerd

My 2012 resolution is to try and be more organized. Things really get messy cos I am working on lots of things at once, and I love to multi-task. You do not want to see my craft room, trust me. My resolution for 2011 was better penmanship. I started out good, and sometimes I take my time writing my name when I sign a check, but I feel I have slipped up again. My writing is not so neat lately. I need to slow down and take my time.

Missy Kulik from Dork Lifesyle

Finally get around to watching BREAKING BAD. I know. I know [dodges boot] I’ll get to it. Geez. I got around to quitting smoking in 2011, I’ll get around to more important things like watching a television show in 2012.

Joshua Mauldin from FIERCE ANTICIPATION

I think I wrote about keeping your resolutions to yourself, but what the heck. Last year I vowed to try to run a half-marathon. I did that in October, and felt really good about it, but I know there’s more in the tank. This year, I’m doing a full 26.2 miles. Pittsburgh Marathon. May 6. I’m already registered, so there’s no backing out now (and no reason to keep it to myself).

Joe Rusin from On the Contrary

Last year I resolved to do better with anger management. It didn’t really go so well, but it’s not really my fault since the rest of the world didn’t live up to their resolution to STOP PISSING ME OFF.  So this year, I’m just gonna try and keep my DVR above 50% and make more gratuitous and obscure musical theatre references. God, I hope you get them.

Eric Sims from California Seething

Travel more?  My 2011 Resolution was to travel and i didn’t do any of it, because I was so busy. So I guess 2012, Im freaking going somewhere. Even if it’s Dallas. Ok, not Dallas, but somewhere.

Matt Udvari from Gamer by Design

THE REBEL OR JUST FORGETFUL NON-RESOLUTERS

I don’t do this.
CH from CH’s Picture of the Day

To remember my 2011 resolution and accomplish it.
Ryan Dixon, FIERCE ANTICIPATION editor and writer of The Ryan Dixon Line

ONCE UPON A TIME, AMERICAN HORROR STORY, PAN AM and gasp! NEW GIRL all made both the Best of and Worst of lists. The bigger surprise, however, is how many cable shows ended up in the Worse of, which in the past might as well have been called a “worst broadcast and reality shows of the year” list. However, in 2011, many of us were disappointed by what were supposed to be the quality shows. Especially…

THE WALKING DEAD 

THE WALKING DEAD. I so didn’t care what happened to that little girl after she wandered off… After two episodes I was already sick of hearing about her, so dragging the storyline out to the mid-season finale (whatever the hell that is) really annoyed me. All the fun of the first season’s constant change was replaced with pregnancy tests and a big boring farm housing a barn full of zombies. I know i’ll tune back in when they resume episodes in February, but if they don’t pick up the pace soon I’m going to tune out. I have been reading the graphic novel it is based on, and boy don’t I wish they did it better justice. Now I see what all you fanboy purists were bitching about after episode 3 last year.
Zack Bunker from Tall Glass of Shame and Runway Rundown

For the second year in a row, I’m giving Worst of honors to THE BORING WALKING DEAD. Last year, it felt like I spent an entire season waiting for this show to live up to the promise of its series opener, only to be disappointed by the season finale. This year, I spent the entire season just waiting for something to happen, only to be a little bit pleasantly surprised by its last two episodes. That time-spent math is so bad. Sadly, I feel compelled to keep watching, because the show has promised that Michionne (one of the most badass black women in comic history) will be introduced in season, and I’m hoping that even this show’s writing staff won’t be able to figure out how to render her completely boring.

Ernessa from Fierce and Nerdy

THE WALKING DEAD. I want to love it.I try and try, but it just keeps disappointing.

CH from CH’s Picture of the Day

MORE NON-QUALITY CABLE

Pfff I don’t know. HUNG has lost its appeal, but I couldn’t say why. And the last episode of ENTOURAGE was pretty terrible. I hope there’s an Ari spinoff where he turns into an a-hole again.

Gudrun Cram-Drach from Secret Life of an Expat

 
The second half of AMERICAN HORROR STORY. It’s not that hard to engross viewers in a mystery, it’s damn near-impossible to pay off that mystery in a satisfying way [see Dexter Season One]. Once the writers started to reveal the secrets (I had a bad feeling when they note-for-note copied the Columbine incident for a character’s exposition) the show went downhill fast.

Joshua Mauldin from FIERCE ANTICIPATION

PAN AM was a total plane wreck. A wanna be that never got off the ground.
Patrick Connolly from Piping Hot Nerd: Adventures of a Bagpiper Mastering Manhattan

It’s sad how far  GLEE has fallen. It was my favorite show in its dazzling, unmarred first season. Now its a crapshoot if its even watchable week to week. Inconsistent much? Also, anything with “Real” and “Housewives” in the title.

Sarah Fazeli from Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered
 
The GOP debates- or as they are known on Bravo- The Real Nutbags of the American Right. They are like one long infomercial for Obama’s reelection. Also, GLEE. Is this what teen entertainment has been reduced to? John Hughes must be rolling in his grave. I ought to track down the writers of GLEE and duct-tape their butt-cheeks together. Saturday detention would be totally worth it.

Eric Sims from California Seething

Sadly, I must say SUPERNATURAL has been deeply disappointing since the whole “Cass is the new God and not a very good one” plot line.  Woe is me!

Roya Hamadani from Fierce Foodie

GRIMM.  I don’t understand why people like this show.
Michael Kass from Single White Nerd

PARENTHOOD.  An over-dramatization of an already overly dramatic experience.  None for me, thanks.

Josh Pullin from Stay-at-Home Dad

I’m not sure I have the right to say this, since I only watched about 7 minutes of it – but it was that bad that I had to turn it off. TWO BROKE GIRLS was so annoyingly stupid for the 7 minutes that I watched it, that all I could keep thinking was, “Wow, Kat Denning’s got big boobs, and a nice ‘real-girl figure’…”

Frankie V from Frankie Says…

NEW GIRL. Zooey, STOP IT. You’re adorable. I get that, America gets that. You don’t need to do this… Let’s stop this charade… call me.

Sam the Sham from FIERCE ANTICIPATION

 DISAPPOINTING REALITY

SUPER BOWL XLV – Green Bay Packers 31 – Pittsburgh Steelers 25. Enough said.

Ryan Dixon, FIERCE ANTICIPATION editor and writer of The Ryan Dixon Line

WE THE PEOPLE with Gloria Alred.  Why does she have a court show?  I hope everyone understands that this show is 100% fake.  These are actors doing re-enactments of old court cases.  It’s from Entertainment Studios, the same people behind AMERICA’S COURT with Judge Ross, which is also fake.  And don’t get me started on the sub-par production values.  My high school AV department could crank out a better show than this.

Jersey Joe from Kicking Back with Jersey Joe

LADY HOGGERS - I mean, WHY???

Missy Kulik from Dork Lifesyle

All Real Housewives shows. Why do I feel like I’m the only person who’s not entertained by manufactured conflict? It raises my blood pressure to watch 5 min of this thing.

Matt Udvari from Gamer by Design

Amy wasn’t the only one who will dearly miss this show. For the first time ever an already cancelled show is making an appearance on our Best of list. Also of note: a return of the scripted show. This is our most fictional Best of list yet. GAME OF THRONES, ONCE UPON A TIME, and AMERICAN HORROR STORY also received its share of love, but OUAT and AHS are just two of the shows that’ll also show up on tomorrow’s worst of list. What other dramas did we both love and hate? Come back tomorrow to find out. 

MORE DRAMA FOR YOUR MAMA

PRIME SUSPECT.  I suspect that this show, which has already been cancelled, may be brought back to prime time.  That Maria Bello is something else.

Josh Pullin from Stay-at-Home Dad
 
AMERICAN HORROR STORY. The best new show on television this season. It has all my favorite things: A wicked sense of humor, freaks, creepy plot twists, sex, bitchy gay ghosts, things that make you cringe and the most horrific neighbor you can imagine played brilliantly by Jessica Lange. (If she doesn’t win an Emmy I will eat my blogumn.) I haven’t enjoyed a show this much since Twin Peaks!
Zack Bunker from Tall Glass of Shame and Runway Rundown

The First Half of AMERICAN HORROR STORY. This show started out with a bang. A great mystery, macabre characters, creepiness at every turn. Jessica Lange chain smoking and chewing scenery. Tami Taylor sans drawl. What could go wrong?

Joshua Mauldin from FIERCE ANTICIPATION

I am going to say REVENGE even though I only saw one episode. I am busy trying to catch up with life on DVD.  Shame on me.  I work in television.

Patrick Connolly from Piping Hot Nerd: Adventures of a Bagpiper Mastering Manhattan

RINGER because an actress like Sarah Michelle Gellar should be on TV dammit.  Buffy will never die!

Roya Hamadani from Fierce Foodie

I can’t remember the last time a show took over my day-to-day imagination like the all-too-brief ten episodes of HBO’s GAME OF THRONES.

Ryan Dixon, FIERCE ANTICIPATION editor and writer of The Ryan Dixon Line
 
GAME OF THRONES. It was like a medieval fantasy version of THE WIRE with its multiple characters and story arcs (and willingness to kill off any character). There was a fair amount of sex and violence, but none of it gratuitous, since it all worked to move the story forward instead of being merely exploitive like the awful TRUE BLOOD. Plus, it’s gotten a lot of people (myself included) to read the books, to which so far the series has been remarkably faithful.

Joe Rusin from On the Contrary

ONCE UPON A TIME.  I don’t know why.  I really don’t.  But I kind of love it.

Michael Kass from Single White Nerd
 

ONCE UPON A TIME on ABC. Why didn’t I think of this show? Why didn’t I write it? Why am I not starring in it? I demand to know. It’s like someone took the way I think and made an hour-long drama out of it.

Sarah Fazeli from Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered
 

I don’t watcha  lot of TV except for Sunday AMC shows and stupid pawning shows that make me fall asleep at 12:30. So Im gonna have to default to the latest AMC show, HELL ON WHEELS. Otherwise known as “that train show with Common.”

Matt Udvari from Gamer by Design

DOWNTON ABBEY – I love the scenery, costumes, and the story. I love how it really transports me to another time.

Missy Kulik from Dork Lifesyle
 
I know it’s not groundbreaking, or mind-bending, or even that exciting, but something about PAN AM has me hooked. Those little blue dresses, jet setting around the world, opportunities to meet good-looking men in suits in a hotel lobby… some of my deepest fantasies are embedded in that show. I’m sure that’s what ABC was counting on with us 25-35 year olds.

Frankie V from Frankie Says…
 

*DEAD* 

HAPPY ENDINGS makes me laugh so hard. It’s a modern version of FRIENDS.

CH from CH’s Picture of the Day

I don’t know if it’s because if my friends Sallie Patrick and Delia Hauser had a baby, she would look exactly like Zooey Daschanal or because she’s just so darn awkwardly adorable in this show. But NEW GIRL is the only new show right now that I just have to watch every week and as close to its time slot as possible. I love her roommates and I just adore all the high jinks they get into. Couldn’t love this show more . Though, I also want to give shout-outs to the hilarious (and way better than FRIENDS) HAPPY ENDINGS (Damon Wayons Jr — who knew?), REVENGE, and ONCE UPON A TIME, which I’m enjoying despite that annoying-as-heck kid.

Ernessa from Fierce and Nerdy

NEW GIRL.  I jumped on the bandwagon late on this one, but I’m glad I did.  It’s nice to see a new sitcom back on television and Zooey Deschanel is hilarious. The show is funny, imaginative, and has great writing.  The laughs work and shouldn’t be missed!

Jersey Joe from Kicking Back with Jersey Joe
 
Comedy – UP ALL NIGHT (Fox). It’s the cast. I can’t get enough of Christina Applegate and the relationship she and Will Arnett (who is refreshingly un-schticky) is just fabulous. Maya Rudolph’s gravy. Drama – AWAKE on NBC. Just wait, you’ll see.

R. B. Ripley from Hyperbolic Tendencies

LOUIE. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I’m supposed to pick some piece of shit show that premiered in 2011 but, to quote the theme song, it’s “Louie, Louie, Louie, Louie.” When I watch Louie, I’m 24 again, laughing uncontrollably in the back of the Comedy Cellar watching a genius at work on a Tuesday night and begging the MC for a five minute spot in front of the six drunks left in the club at 11:30 PM (two of them are making out and one only speaks Hebrew) so I can try out my new Scrooge McDuck: Baby Raper bit. It’s a shitty, wonderful life being a comic and he nails it perfectly.

Eric Sims from California Seething

NON-FICTION GEMS 

CURIOSITY (on The Discovery Channel). I think the format of the show, coupled with the breadth of topics it covers keeps this show engaging to not just science nerds, but also anybody, as the title suggests, curious about a given topic. The Adam Savage episode particularly blew my mind, talking about technology extending human life well into the future.

Sam the Sham from FIERCE ANTICIPATION

MASTERCHEF FRANCE– LOVED IT! MASTERCHEF was great for my language studies. Here’s why: people bring their accents from all over the country, they talk normally so you hear lots of swearing and slang, you learn about French food, not just what’s done in the restaurant but what home chefs are capable of (for example, they don’t panic when faced with a dessert challenge, or octopus for that matter), you learn about French chefs, big shot visits every week for the final elimination challenge, and they go to cool places in France to do their challenges. They even went to New York City for one episode, which was disappointing because the challenge in cooking “American food” was to make a hamburger and cheesecake. Even the chefs are clueless about what we eat.

Gudrun Cram-Drach from Secret Life of an Expat

Amy wasn’t the only one disappointed in a highly-anticipated action film this year. Check out the other Action Clunkers below. Also of note: Best of picks TAKE SHELTER and BRIDESMAIDS made this Worst of list; nobody liked SUCKERPUNCH, and surprisingly only one of us picked the latest TWILIGHT installment as the worst movie of the year.

ACTION CLUNKERS

I AM NUMBER FOUR. Having not seen any previews, all I knew was this came from kidlit, so of course I jumped at it. But the film was trying too hard to be grownup and in the end, it couldn’t hold its gun.

Gudrun Cram-Drach from Secret Life of an Expat

BATTLE: LOS ANGELES. While the plot was cool, as with many disaster films, the characters are clichéd and just didn’t work.  The soldiers seemed flat and generic, while the dialogue just wasn’t real life.  Some of the effects screamed computer generated and at times the sub-par camerawork got in the way of the story.  There are far more polished films out there and with a little more work, this could have worked.  (This film’s main rival, SKYLINE, from a year earlier, was even worse.)
Jersey Joe from Kicking Back with Jersey Joe

NOT SO FEEL GOOD FAMILY MOVIES

HUGO.  What is wrong with me?   It found it soul-less and uninteresting. Do not get why people are gaga over it.

Patrick Connolly from Piping Hot Nerd: Adventures of a Bagpiper Mastering Manhattan

And Amy wasn’t the only one who loved this movie. We had so much agreement at FaN this year, that we could easily split our Best of list up as THE MUPPETS, BRIDESMAIDS, ATTACK THE BLOCK, THE LAST HARRY POTTER, and EVERYTHING ELSE. So um, that’s what we did…

IT’S A TIE BETWEEN THE MUPPETS AND…

It’s a tie between THE MUPPETS and RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES - because those were the movies I came closest to seeing this year. I couldn’t, though because I had to stay home and watch Pawn Stars instead since my DVR was down to 18% and I had to clear space for the Psych marathon over the weekend. It’s a hard knock life for me.

Eric Sims from California Seething

It’s a toss-up between GNOMEO & JULIET and THE MUPPETS. GNOMEO & JULIET is a feast for Shakespeare fans and actor geeks everywhere. Montagues are the blue garden gnomes; the Capulets are the red garden gnomes. Get it? It’s seriously the best, funniest, and surprisingly faithful adaptation of a Shakespeare play I’ve seen in a long time, besting the R & J a German company did in 1995 at the RSC’s London International Shakespeare Festival –  where Juliet refused Paris by stamping her feet and smearing her face with a chocolate bar, a long line of her suitors bearing gifts entered the stage on skateboards, and the balcony scene was done on trapeze. GNOMEO & JULIET is also your one big chance to hear Maggie Smith, Patrick Stewert, Julie Walters, Jason Statham perform together.

Watching THE MUPPETS was like looking in on my childhood, like living Emily’s climactic speech in Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town,” when, during the herafter-death peek in on her life on earth, the morning of her 12th birthday, she says, “Good-bye world. Good-bye, Grover’s Corners….Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking….and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new ironed dresses and hot baths….and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth,you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it–every,every minute?” — only the theme of the movie was that you don’t have to say goodbye. The Muppets never left. The world just…forgot about them.

Oh, Kermit. Piggie! Manomana Doo Doo Da Doo Doo and Wakka Wakka! Someday we’ll find it, The Rainbow Connection! The Lovers, the Dreamers, and Me…sniff.

Sarah Fazeli from Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered

BRIDESMAIDS 

BRIDESMAIDS. Because nothing is funnier than watching a girl crap her wedding dress in the middle of the street.

Zack Bunker from Tall Glass of Shame and Runway Rundown

BRIDESMAIDS. This was a huge surprise to me. I have to admit that even though I think I am a highbrow subtitle reading poser, I love juvenile bathroom humor movies, and this one was a bathroom humor movie with heart.  I haven’t laughed so much since SUPER BAD.

Patrick Connolly from Piping Hot Nerd: Adventures of a Bagpiper Mastering Manhattan

BRIDESMAIDS: I can’t remember the last time I almost peed in my pants in a movie theater.

Frankie V from Frankie Says…

ATTACK THE BLOCK

It is my mission in life to get every nerd I know to 1) read READY PLAYER ONE, and 2) watch ATTACK THE BLOCK. Both of them are gifts from Nerd Heaven. And ATTACK THE BLOCK is a great crowd pleaser if you’re convening with family over the holidays. It’s the one new release on video right now that everyone over the age of 12 will at least sorta enjoy — like REAL STEEL with English project kids, weed, and aliens. Okay, nothing like REAL STEEL — but it really is a crowd pleaser. Seriously, give it some love. I also adored MIDNIGHT IN PARIS, REAL STEEL, CRAZY STUPID LOVE, and DRIVE.

Ernessa T. Carter from Fierce and Nerdy
 

ATTACK THE BLOCK. Just go on iTunes right now and rent it. You will not be disappointed.

CH from CH’s Picture of the Day

Going over the list of 2011 movies, I am shocked at both how little I saw and how little I thoroughly enjoyed what I saw. I did like ATTACK THE BLOCK a lot because it was a simple movie, and I am a sucker for sci-fi, cockney Brits, and hip hop. Also liked THOR, CAPTAIN AMERICA, RISE OF THE PLANET APES (amazed at how much I liked this!), FRIGHT NIGHT (also shocked), and THE MUPPETS. Yes, I clearly went style over substance this year.

Sam the Sham from FIERCE ANTICIPATION

THE LAST HARRY POTTER

I’m going to have to geek out and say HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS: Part 2. As a longtime HP fan, I’d been waiting for this film for a while, and as someone who didn’t so much love Part 1, or even the film before that, I was worried that they would screw it up. But in my opinion, they didn’t.

Gudrun Cram-Drach from Secret Life of an Expat

That last Harry Potter – I am only saying this cos it is the ONLY movie I saw in the theater!

Missy Kulik from Dork Lifesyle

AND EVERYTHING ELSE…

Michael Winterbottom’s THE TRIP. Not since SIDEWAYS has there been a better exploration of the subtly twisting tides of male friendship. Equally hilarious, heartbreaking and cringe inducing. Plus, it makes you really hungry for scallops.

Ryan Dixon, FIERCE ANTICIPATION editor and writer of The Ryan Dixon Line

SUPER 8 made me feel like a kid growing up in the eighties again.  I loved the storytelling, the emotional adventure, and grew nostalgic for those pre-digital days before twihards and texting.

Roya Hamadani from Fierce Foodie

MONEYBALL. I’m a big baseball fan and I thought this film captured the magic of the 2002 Oakland A’s and the attempt to create the perfect team.  The film takes a hard look at the inside workings of the game from the stats, to recruiting, the politics, and economics involved in signing the perfect player.

Jersey Joe from Kicking Back with Jersey Joe

THE ARTIST.  Precise, moving, deceptively layered, amazing performances and a dance sequence.  Loved it muchly.

Michael Kass from Single White Nerd

The first hour and fifty-five minutes of TAKE SHELTER. TAKE SHELTER is a patient, deeply moving portrayal of a good man trying everything he can to stave off the inevitable destruction of schizophrenia. Michael Shannon and Jessica Chastain deserve Oscar consideration.

Joshua Mauldin from FIERCE ANTICIPATION
 

BELIEVE YOU ME.  Films should mean something and this one does.  Here’s a link: http://fischersfork.com/

Josh Pullin from Stay-at-Home Dad

There’s just no way to pick one, so I’ll thumb my nose at the rules and declare that I was equally thrilled by WIN WIN, TINKER TAILOR SOLDIER SPY, CONTAGION, MIDNIGHT IN PARIS, RANG, THE KING’S SPEECH, BEGINNERS, THE BEAVER, BRIDESMAIDS, and HUGO. Let’s just call that my best picture nomination list.

R. B. Ripley from Hyperbolic Tendencies

DRIVE. Who thought an arty little genre movie would have such impact. It was SHANE set in lonely Los Angeles, with a wonderful soundtrack that added to the mood, great performances by all involved (Ryan Gosling even won me back with this one), and great surprises (mostly of the violent sort). Most of all, as an Angeleno I thought it really captured the feel of Los Angeles. Its geography was actually correct in chase scenes, and the sense of isolation in a crowd while driving a car really rang true for the experience of living in L.A.

Joe Rusin from On the Contrary

MIDNIGHT IN PARIS. I expected to see a decent romantic comedy, and it turns out that its actually a fantasy movie And of course, any artist can relate to this theme: “Why does everyone keep calling my art a freaking hobby.” Oh life.

Matt Udvari from Gamer by Design