Last night was the official launch of my writer friend Scott Overton’s first novel, Dead Air. I bought my official copy, Scott signed it, officially, I hung out with the other members of the Sudbury Writers’ Guild who came out to support Scott (his official fan club?), and he even got the official CTV interview 🙂
Before I get to particulars, I wanted to share a few more views of the Living with Lakes Centre at Laurentian University where the launch was held. Yes, that’s the same place that Scott read with John Forrest and Mark Leslie last week for the LUminaries reading series.
I won’t say that I arrived early, but it looked like I had some time to walk around the grounds and I took a couple of pictures of the centre from a different angle, and then another looking out over Lake Ramsey from the centre’s dock.
Upon entering, I immediately gravitated to the huddle of SWG members. We chatted and caught up a bit before the flurry of purchasing and signing got underway.
There were beverages, but word soon spread that the caterer hadn’t shown up yet. Ever the consummate showman, Laurence Steven of Your Scrivener Press gathered the crowd and ushered us into the room for the reading.
One of the SWG members had thoughtfully brought cookies and just as Laurie apologized for the lack of provisions, the caterer arrived, the result of an understandable miscommunication.
Scott first introduced his wife, Terry-Lynne, to whom his book is dedicated, his co-host for his morning radio show, and then he read three selections from his novel. Afterward, he opened the floor to questions.
Scott spoke of his inspiration, the process of writing the novel, and the interesting things he learned on the way. He also spoke about the editing process and how he and Laurie had negotiated that.
Overall, it was a very entertaining evening.
But I got this cold, see? So when I got home, I crawled into bed like the little illen-filled chicklet I am and settled in for the evening. In cruising the channels, I came across Pontypool.
In the movie, adapted from Tony Burgess’s novel of the same name, a morning radio host (sound familiar, Scott?) is trapped in his radio station while people in the town around him succumb to a strange virus.
Far from the scads of zombie-related virus movies, Pontypool takes a left turn. The virus is spread in the form of words, and the infected begin to babble and fixate on a particular word or sound. Through the timely visit of a doctor to the studio, the protagonist learns that it is the understanding of a word that seems to trigger the infection and that speaking in another language is an effective means of evading the illness.
As everyone around them succumbs, the protagonist and his producer are hiding from the hordes and she (the producer) begins to babble, “kill, kill, kill …” The morning man, twigged by the words of the visiting doctor, begins to try to break his producer’s loop, telling her that kill isn’t kill, that it’s sun, dress, flower, and finally he settles on kiss. Kill is kiss.
He knows he’s been successful when she says, “kill me.”
I just found the premise fascinating. A semiotic virus.
You may have noticed me dropping that academic bomb from time to time on my blog, and the reason for it is that I love semiotics. It’s the study of meaning, to put it simply. Ultimately all language is invented and arbitrary. Language is a series of signs or symbols that we chose to mean things so that we can communicate with others and think about them.
We accept that the letters D O G spell dog and that means a certain class of canine quadrupeds that many of us choose to coexist with, but why is it dog and not cap or tree of bazooka? Who came up with the word and why did everyone accept that this wee beastie should be called dog (and not tomato)?
Two things: have you ever repeated a word to yourself over and over again until the word loses all meaning and just becomes a sound? Have you ever written or typed a word that you’ve written or typed thousands (perhaps millions) of times before only to think immediately that the word is somehow wrong? Have you been so convinced of this illusion that you look the bloody word up in the dictionary just to make sure you’ve not gone insane?
That’s semiotic confusion, or uncertainty and may just lead to the thought that it’s not the experience that’s the illusion, but all language and meaning lumped together.
That’s the kind of mind-blowing awesome of a movie like Pontypool. Not to mention the eerie serendipity of coming from the launch of my morning radio show host friend Scott, whose novel is about a morning show host who receives what turns out to be a very serious threat and finding a movie about a morning radio show host in the middle of a semiotic virus breakout.
Gave me dreams, man …
One last thing, well two really, but they’re related.
I’ve been so busy guest blogging, hosting guests, blogging events, and interviewing that I forgot to mention that Brian Braden of Underground Book Reviews interviewed me last week! And this week, as the result of the number of comments and likes, he’s posted an excerpt from Initiate of Stone, my work in progress. Sure, he may have misspelled my name, but everyone does 🙂 Hazard of being me.
So if you want to find out what my WIP is made of, go read for yourself!
Need to curl up with my dog and some wicked cold meds.