Stories From The World Of Ethereal: Short Stories From Ethereal The Novel (Long Way Home)
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It's like someone on the ship is using magic, a spell that creates a portal to another world in the smoke. You can see the rest of the image as what he experiences in the dream; it definitely does have a dark atmosphere. Perhaps a nightmare or just a weird one. I remember that around the time I did this image I was doing research on theme parks and tried to find interesting photos of ghost trains, the kind where you sit in a little wagon going on rails trough a haunted house.
I don't know how obvious it is in the image but i tried to take in a bit of those environments or at least the feel of them into the art.
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I got inspired by the giant greenhouse globes on the film's spaceship, and also a great extent of the main plot. Just as in the movie, this image could lead the thought to protecting life from pollution. I wanted to draw it so the image presented a bit of history as well. The main building's architecture varies a lot from the style inside the globe, perhaps describing technical development and traces of an older era. It's quite obvious that the globe was built at a later stage. The house on the front cover of Object 10 is actually an alternative version of this image but there nature grows around the building instead of inside it.
The body with the praying character is the same on all of them, but the things that comes out from the hood varies. The idea on this was to show someone praying for wealth, diamonds and gold, in a way its a representation of materialistic greediness. The outline based drawing and the flat colors in it is a technique I really like to work in. Geof Darrow is another good example of an artist who is a master of the outline.
The artwork is created as a personal drawing and is not connected to any real musician but of course groups like Daft Punk and also the movie Tron come to mind. I'm not a big fan of the new Tron movie, but the first one is fantastic. I really liked that they took in so much color into the environments. It made that advanced technical world feel alive and warm. And the women to whom the entire town owed their very existence became people to fear, ridicule, and taunt as unwarranted and malicious rumors swirled around this family of witches. It was those nasty rumors that had sent Ellie running away to college, unwilling and unprepared to take over the responsibility of keeping the family spell intact and the town safe.
The Halloween tradition of taunting the local witches still goes on. For the long-held spell is now broken, and the Uglies are again unleashed upon the people of Solemn. And only Ellie can save them. Script by Fred Wiehe. Meanwhile, a young paranormal investigator and his up-and-coming, ghost-hunting team is hired to investigate this one-time insane asylum. Synopsis: Penny Winters. She's seen things, unexplainable things, that at 13 years old land her in a psych ward. There, her parents all but abandon her — never once visiting. They call her a freak, tease her at school, and cyber-bully her on FaceBook, Twitter, and in text messages.
Even her teachers and her family are afraid of her. So Penny runs away. She sets out on her own to make a new life for herself, determined to disappear into society and hide from her past. Being underage and a runaway leaves her with little to no options. No other recourse left, she lies about her age and her past to land a job at a Halloween attraction called Fright House.
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The Third Face. Phil N. Riggles Goes to Rome. Sharalee Marie Sheperd Washington. Fox Chase. It is a convoluted conspiracy thriller, and as the narrator himself says: "its particular shape [is] governed only by the surface accidents of history at the time". This may go some way towards explaining why one moment the reader is with "the whole sick crew" at a drunken modern-day party, and the next is transported to and a terrific period-piece about diplomacy and spycraft prior to the first world war.
A place called Vheissu is mentioned, as is a woman called Victoria Wren: either one may be the enigmatic and intangible V of the title.
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Pynchon's world of paranoia, conspiracies, and shadowy government agencies is so persuasive that the fan begins to see signs and signifiers everywhere - even mistyping Pynchon's name as Punchon seems indicative of something. But what? Whatever the answer, he was manna to us literature students. With his playfulness what Barthes would doubtless have called jouissance and his codifying tactics, he seemed the writer that deconstruction and its ilk had been waiting for. An undergrad could compose a 1,word essay on the ramifications of the title of the law firm in the opening pages of Lot 49 Warpe, Wistfull, Kubitschek and McMingus, in case you were wondering.
A lecturer could pontificate for half an hour on the multiple meanings of the character name Pierce Inverarity Pierce in verity? In veracity? Inverse rarity? Was there a town called Inverarity in Scotland and could Pynchon know of it? He even had his own "fanzine" - an academic journal dedicated to his work and with the absurdly prosaic title of Pynchon Notes. As far as I was aware, no other living author had received this accolade - it was the sort of thing more associated with rock bands - and I duly submitted a paper though I forget now if it was ever accepted, or what its thesis might have been.
The problem with Pynchon, however, is that people tend now as then to treat him with po-faced reverence, and this can put off as many readers as it attracts. The author himself seems to admit that he dug a hole when he called one of his early short stories "Entropy". In Lot 49 he makes mention of the Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell and thermodynamics, and continued his apparent interest in quantum mechanics in Gravity's Rainbow.
All of this appealed immensely to the stoners of the s. It was a time of The Dancing Wu-Li Masters and Godel, Escher, Bach - books which linked quantum engineering to eastern religion, to be discussed over a well-stoked bong with a side of Tangerine Dream playing in the background.
The Illuminatus trilogy was big at that time, too, with its talk of cabals and "immanentising the Eschaton" maybe a young Dan Brown was taking notes. Literary criticism meantime was turning towards scientism. The Derrida school of deconstructionists drooled over Pynchon while semioticians sharpened their troping-shears. All of which makes him seem worthy rather than readable. Yet his books are romps and detective stories.
In Lot 49, the heroine Oedipa Maas begins to feel like "the private eye in any long-ago radio drama". Pynchon has also credited the spy novels of Graham Greene and Le Carre and the thrillers of another Scot, John Buchan, as inspiration, alongside likelier suspects such as Jack Kerouac and Pynchon does remain the most Beat of contemporary literary authors.
The names he gives to his characters can make me laugh out loud or wish I'd thought of them first: the saxophone player McClintic Sphere; the schlemiel Benny Profane; the English spy-cum-mechanical doll Bongo-Shaftsbury. I liked Bodine so much that I spoonerised his name when creating a character called Big Podeen, an ex-sailor who appears in my first crime novel, Knots and Crosses.
I'm a crime writer after all, a genre writer. I set all my books in Scotland and use a recurring central character. But the mass of whodunits is indebted to the grail myth, something Raymond Chandler made clear within the first few pages of The Big Sleep and Pynchon's books often involve innocents on the run, or hunting some answer to a central mystery. This same secret knowledge is what I craved as a young student, believing that there was a meaning to the world beyond all our everyday transactions.
Pynchon seemed to provide tantalising glimpses of patterns and route-maps, which is why I fell into his web.
The Ethereal Realist
And sat down in the university library to begin a quest of my own. The few short stories Pynchon had published were hard to find in A few appeared as individual pamphlets; others had to be borrowed from Ivy League libraries in the USA. As the weeks passed, I became so knowledgeable that I was able to put the esteemed critic Tony Tanner right - at least in the margins of my copy of his book City of Words. As I pick that book up now, it falls open, spine irredeemably cracked, at the chapter on Entropy in Fiction.
Twenty-five years ago, I corrected Tanner on the identity of Pynchon's first published story "The Small Rain" rather than "Entropy" and also on the title of another short story "Mortality and Mercy in Vienna" rather than "Mercy and Mortality in Venice".