She talks to wolves...

You guys remember Ravens in the Library, right? If you're not sure what I'm talking about, allow me to sum up: S.J. Tucker, traveling musician and fire-spinner extraordinaire, became terribly ill this past winter and had to undergo several very expensive medical procedures. Unfortunately, she did not have health insurance (which is the lamentable lot of many, many people in this country); what she did have, however, were amazing friends (writers, editors, and artists among them) and fans who created and bought a benefit anthology to assist her in paying off her medical debt.

Ravens in the Library is that anthology. It is a limited edition collection edited by SatyrPhil Brucato and Sandra Buskirk, available only until Tucker's medical expenses have been covered. This is my review: specifically, the third part. Click on the following links to read the prior sections of this review: [Part I] [Part II]

As important as the stories to Ravens in the Library is the artwork: visual artists were part of this community that came together and donated their pens and paints and finished art to the cause of rescuing S.J. Tucker from overwhelming medical debt. (Note: Although this anthology only evidenced the participation of editors, writers, and artists in the "Save our s00j !" campaign, you only have to visit the saveours00j community to discover how musicians, Tarot readers, knitters, balm-makers, etc. also bound together in support.)

James A. Owen (of Imaginarium Geographica and Starchild fame) turned out an awesome cover set for the anthology: his image of ravens cavorting in a library while books fly about captures the whimsy of the titular song beautifully. While his brother Jeremy colored the cover set in dark and appropriate hues accentuating James' penwork, even James' simple inked drawing is excellent in itself (as you can see paired with Tucker's song in the opening pages of the collection). Owen also provided an illustration for Valente's "The Ballad of the Sinister Mr. Mouth," perfectly capturing the menace and style of that macaw-headed pirate.

Bryan Syme, tattoo artist from Seattle, provided the playful yet macabre illustration "The Ominous Toaster" to accompany Neil Gaiman's story. A simple push-lever toaster lurks in the foreground, while a scene in stark black and white of dark and stormy night tropes (complete with murdered brother and raven-watching-a-writing-desk) blaze forth from the background. While Syme provides another three pieces for the anthology, this is the best and most evocative of the story it depicts.

He works with the editor, Brucato, to bring us his second illustration "Hind and Seek" accompanying the songs "Creature of the Wood" and "Daughter of the Glade." A satyr and a nymph play hide and seek around a tree in this very competent illustration full of movement and mischief. His next illustation, for Storm Constatine's "Built on Blood," is entirely too busy, especially when squeezed onto a 9x6 page next to the story. (Also, I'm unsure where the upside down blazing car with punk demonic protesters came from. I don't recall that scene in Constantine's story.) In some ways, his last illustration ("Best Friends") for Brucato's "Ravenous" attempts to convey the most emotion and yet comes across the flattest. The expression in the faery girl's eyes is almost vacant, while the lounging posture of the angsty hard-rocker belies the sincerity of her tears.

( Read the rest of the art reviews behind the cut... )

We are finally coming to the end of my surprisingly-thorough review of Ravens in the Library; I honestly had no idea it was going to be this long when I began composing the first part several days ago. There is only one section now that I wish to comment upon, and that is editor SatyrPhil Brucato's Introduction, "Voices, Magic, and Change."

This is a truly excellent introduction. It seeks to introduce you to S.J. Tucker, the brilliant musician and amazing person, and situate her in a generous and loving social context. It succeeds at this, but then goes beyond to address a truly heinous problem: the lack of affordable healthcare for so many across the United States, who don't necessarily have the same far-reaching and supportive community by which S.J. Tucker is blessed to be surrounded. Brucato illuminates this problem for us, then shouts forth a call to action: to be aware of each other, to be generous to each other, to take care of each other. Each other is all we have. I thank Brucato for his stirring words and I hope they warm the souls of those who read them... so that they, in turn, can spread that fire into the greater community, spreading love.


Other reviews of Ravens in the Library:
talkstowolves: Part I of my review. And Part II.
k_crow's review blurbs.
thewronghands' thoughts.
maverick_weirdo 's write-up.
jennifer_brozek's preliminary thoughts.
(Anyone know of any other reviews? Let me know and I'll add them here!)

You guys remember Ravens in the Library, right? If you're not sure what I'm talking about, allow me to sum up: S.J. Tucker, traveling musician and fire-spinner extraordinaire, became terribly ill this past winter and had to undergo several very expensive medical procedures. Unfortunately, she did not have health insurance (which is the lamentable lot of many, many people in this country); what she did have, however, were amazing friends (writers, editors, and artists among them) and fans who created and bought a benefit anthology to assist her in paying off her medical debt.

Ravens in the Library is that anthology. It is a limited edition collection edited by SatyrPhil Brucato and Sandra Buskirk, available only until Tucker's medical expenses have been covered.

I eagerly awaited this anthology. It arrived on March 30th, and I bravely resisted reading it until I could squeeze some downtime out of my semester, shoehorning Ravens in the Library in among Thomas Hardy ("Hap," "Neutral Tones," "A Broken Appointment"...) and John Keats ("The Eve of St. Agnes," "La Belle Dame Sans Merci"...) poetry. I finished it in less than a week, and then had to wait several weeks before I could find some more free time to share a review with you all.

Well, the time for review has come! In assembling my thoughts today, I discovered that this informal review was definitely going to run long. To that end, I have determined to break it up into two posts. Today, you get the first half of the stories on the TOC (with the musical pieces excluded). Tomorrow, you get the rest of the TOC, as well as my thoughts on the introduction, the lyrics included, and the art. Without further ado:

"Forbidden Brides of the Faceless Slaves in the Nameless House of the Night of Dread Desire," by Neil Gaiman.

From its ridiculously over-wrought title to its amusing inversion of reality, this story by Neil Gaiman leaves me feeling delighted and giggly. It's not a particularly deep meditation on the nature of writing and self-parody and the relationship of reality to fiction, but it's thought-provoking enough to leave one in a state of (perhaps slightly giddy, definitely bemused) musing at the close of the tale. However, most fans of Neil Gaiman will have already read this story in the collection Fragile Things.

( Read the rest of the reviews behind the cut... )



Return tomorrow for the rest of the review! You'll find talk of killer unicorns, Lost children, ever-changing semi-conscious houses, the Descent of Inanna in Vegas, and more!


Other reviews of Ravens in the Library:
k_crow 's review blurbs.
thewronghands' thoughts.
maverick_weirdo's write-up.
jennifer_brozek's preliminary thoughts.
(Anyone know of any other reviews? Let me know and I'll add them here!)