Tuesday, July 25, 2017

My Friend vs. Cancer

Today, I want to put an opportunity in front of you.  It's not a fortune-and-glory type of opportunity (he said, channeling Temple of Doom for some reason), but instead an opportunity to help somebody who needs some help.
  
My friend Trey Sterling -- you see him in the comments under the name "Xann Black" every so often -- recently underwent surgery to remove a malignant melanoma.  The surgery was a success, and while there is still a course of treatment(s) waiting on him, Trey's progress seems to be quite good.  This is because he's a badass.  However, the illness and (more importantly) recovery time have caused him to have to face an extended period away from work.  And I don't care how big a badass you are, bills are badder if they've teamed up with cancer to stop you from going to work for an extended period of time.
  
So here's the opportunity: to help.  If you're reading this and have a few bucks you don't think you'll need this week, kindly visit Trey's Go Fund Me page and donate to this worthy cause.
  
Let me tell you a little bit about Trey.  I've known him since ... oh, 2003ish.  He was in high school, and got hired to work at the place where I was a manager.  We got to be friendly, as often happens when nerds meet each other; and have been friends ever since.  We've been on vacations together a few times over the years, have watched all manner of movies and TV shows together, and have had major influences on each others' reading habits. 
  
With that in mind, if you've got the ability to send a few dollars, I'd like to ask you to consider sending them his way.  He's a good guy, and his parents are good people, and the rest of his family are good people, and their various dogs and cats are good animals.  They, none of 'em, ought to have to be going through any of this. 
 
Now, for your amusement, here is a photo of Trey murdering a dinner roll at Disney World:
 
 
Reuben (l): "God save that poor dinner roll."  Trey (m): "Die, dinner roll, die!"  Me (r): "Where MY dinner roll at?"
  
Good times.

Friday, July 14, 2017

A Review of "Dollar Deal" (by Shawn S. Lealos)

Today, I'll be reviewing the 2015 book Dollar Deal, which is a collection of interviews by author Shawn S. Lealos with various Dollar Baby filmmakers.
  
What's a Dollar Baby? you might ask.  That's an easy enough question to answer.  See, Stephen King has had this program since at least the eighties in which he will grant aspiring filmmakers the rights to make a short film based on one of his stories for a single dollar.  There's more to it than that (e.g., the filmmakers are not allowed to profit off the films or show them outside of festivals), but that's the gist of the thing.
  
I've always been reluctant to integrate fandom for the Dollar Baby films into my King-fandom regimen.  There are several reasons for this, including:
 
1.  I don’t consider them to be professional films.
2.  There are a LOT of them, and keeping track of them seems to be a near impossibility.
3.  I have no access to more than a handful of them.
4.  My perception of them is that the vast majority suck the root.  Not sayin’ that’s a stone-cold truism … just sayin’ that that’s my perception.
 
All those things being the case, why bother?
  
Well, that’s easy: because regardless of how I think or feel about them, and regardless of whether I have any ability to actually view them, these ARE King-sanctioned films.  In that way, an argument could be made that they are just as legitimate as, say, Cujo.  And I aim for comprehensivity in my King fandom, meaning that in a perfect world, I’d be able to collect every one of these things and give ‘em a look.

Not being able to do so, it is my preference to turn something of a blind eye toward them.  Out of sight, out of mind, and if they are out of my thoughts, then I don’t have to worry about not being able to see them.

Yeah, I get it; dude sounds nuts, you’re thinking.  Who told you to think that?!?  Was it the Tall Whites?!?  Er…  Anyways, don’t misunderstand me; I don’t lose sleep thinking about not being able to see Dollar Baby films.
  
Bottom line is: I just don't care about these movies.
  
So it’s a credit to Shawn S. Lealos (and the filmmakers profiled in his book) that while reading Dollar Deal, I did care.
  
  

   
  
His book is not a definitive history of Dollar Babies – as I mentioned earlier, there doesn’t seem to be a way to actually compile a comprehensive list of them – but is instead a collection of interviews with seventeen filmmakers who have participated in the program (plus three essays).  During the course of reading these interviews, I became interested in the films under discussion, and in the filmmakers who worked on them.  By definition, these were films made out of a combination of sheer love and sheer determination, and the can-do attitudes that are the hallmark of a combination like that are, at times, infectious.  Many of these folks have gone on to have solid careers.  None are Frank Darabont, but few people in all of human history have been Frank Darabont, so let’s not hold that against them.  In several cases, they’ve become industry professionals, and that’s a solid outcome. 
  
The book’s subjects are as follows:

Sunday, July 9, 2017

Collectioning (2017 Edition), Part 2: The Books Must Flow

This two-part post (part one of which can be found here) began with a spate of reacquisitions of paperbacks I'd once owned; pure nostlagia-bait mid-life-crisis stuff.  But, as is often the case, I couldn't make myself stop there, and some other stuff ended up getting collectioned in the process.
   
As such, this post must needs now transition into a relatively simple cataloguing of Shit I Just Bought.  Hopefully some of that will still be of interest!  I think there's some cool stuff here, so maybe you will, too.

Before we get to that, I wanted to share a few photos from my apartment.  I mentioned last time that I'd decided to devote an entire bookcase to my mass-market King paperbacks.  I moved stuff around so as to make space for it, and here is the result:




Ahhh, who needs those lightswitches anyways?  I can still kinda reach 'em.

I really ought to have that Michael Whelan Gunslinger print in a frame, shouldn't I?  I keep saying I'm going to do that.


 

It's one of my favorite pieces of King art, and I bought the print at Dragon*Con over a decade ago.  Or did I opt not to buy it there and end up ordering a copy from Whelan's website?  Might be the latter.  I think probably so.

Anyways, it's been hanging on one spot in my apartment ever since, and I took it down to move it here so as to give this little section a theme.  As I moved it, I noticed something I'd failed to ever notice before, and it gave me a thrill:



  
Ka.

And I don't have it in a frame!  Saints preserve us.  Anyways, let's move on to the books.
  
We'll continue to proceed in chronological order by edition, to the extent that is possible, beginning with:


'salem's Lot (August 1976, Signet)





This is more or less the original paperback of 'salem's Lot, which is pretty easy to find copies of.

The scan doesn't show the cover off particularly well; the hair and facial features of the vampire are raised (you can see the indentations on the inside front cover), and catch the light in an interesting way; so while it looks in photos like a nearly-blank black image, it's actually quite a bit cooler than that, especially with that single drop of blood added in.

Sunday, June 25, 2017

Collectioning (2017 Edition), Part 1: An Excuse to Talk About the Old Days

coll-ect-ion-ing  (kƏ lek' shƏn ing)    1.  the process of systematically adding to one's collection of a specific type or category of objects.  2.  a sign of low-grade obsessive-compulsive disorder.  3.  another reason for people in Third World countries to hate people like me.  4.  a made-up word invented by a lame blogger, who, in his defense, says "yes, but at least I didn't put a hashtag in front of it"  (See also)

You know how it is: every so often, you feel an itch in that part of your mind that governs the rules of your collecting; an itch that can only be scratched by adding to the collection.

While writing some of my recent posts, I was reminded anew of a mistake I made years ago: getting rid of my first copies of many of my King books.  See, when I first began buying King books, it was via used paperbacks; I was a haunter of used bookstores and thrift shops, and it is from those haunts -- mostly, though not exclusively, a used bookshop called The Book Rack -- that the majority of my initial collection was built.  Before high school was over, though, I'd joined the Stephen King Library, which sent me a hardback copy of a King novel once every month.  As those arrived, I traded in my old paperbacks.
  
It didn't seem like a mistake at the time.  Why keep 'em?  I had just gotten better copies!  I got a hardback, whatta I need a bent-up old paperback for?
  
What younger me wasn't counting on is that older me would grow nostalgic for those paperback editions.
  
Younger me had no way of knowing that older me might feel the need to have those paperbacks on his shelf ... simply have them, to look at and occasionally take down, holding them wistfully while futilely pretending that he was still that fifteen-year-old boy who walked into The Book Rack and spent hours sorting through its musty old treasures.  Would the Bryant who is typing this spend money to go onto a holodeck recreation of that shop, complete with all the books that used to be there on a semi-permanent-yet-nevertheless-rotating basis?  Not just the Kings, but the stacks of movie novelizations, the romance-novel room he literally never even went inside, the Mack Bolans and Destroyers and Leon Urises and James Micheners he never bought but was always weirdly drawn to?
  
You bet he would.

Such a thing is not possible, of course.  The past is forever gone, never to reappear except in elaborate recreations, and not terribly often even then.  All the money in the universe will not truly buy you What Was.
  
BUT ... if I still had all those original paperbacks, I could still have a tiny bit of What Was; a tiny bit of then.
  
A tiny bit of me.
 
I have been thinking about that sort of thing a lot lately, and recently decided to devote some funds toward reacquiring as many of those old paperbacks as I could find.  Not the literal copies themselves, of course, but the editions/covers that I first owned.  Convincing stand-ins for my starter copies, in other words.
  
The good news for me was that, with only a couple of seeming exceptions, the specific copies I initially owned were published in huge quantities.  It's not exactly a challenge to obtain used copies, even in good condition; not only was it easy, but it was relatively cheap.
  
So I thought what I'd do is turn this into a show-and-tell sort of post, including scans of these covers up and maybe a few reminiscences, if such should occur to me.  Is this self-indulgent?  Yes sir.  But if I know the things I think I know, then it's the sort of self-indulgence that makes sense to folks who love books.
  
Oh, by the way: this saga of materialism also resulted in the purchase of quite a few editions that I did NOT have back in the day.  I tried to not go too far down that rabbit hole, and you can judge the success/failure of that attempt for yourself.  (Spoiler alert: I failed, fairly hardcore; so much so that I've ended up splitting the post in two.)
  
To give these shenanigans a structure of some sort, I'm going to go in chronological order by edition, to the extent figuring out such a chronology is possible.  That can be tricky with paperbacks, which generally do not offer a year of publication apart from the year of the original mass-market edition.  But I think we'll be able to make do relatively well.


Carrie (Signet, 15th printing, circa November 1976)





Apologies for violating the thesis of this post right off the bat, but I've got a confession to make: I did not own this edition of Carrie when I was a teenager, or at any point since.  Regardless, this specific edition looms very large indeed in the history of my Stephen King fandom, so it seemed (A) like I ought to get a copy and (B) like a good place for this post to begin.
 

Friday, June 23, 2017

A Brief Review of Episode 1 of "The Mist"

I will not be reviewing the ten-episode miniseries based on The Mist.  I apologize for any of you that may disappoint, but I decided after my experience with Under the Dome that I am oil and reviewing weekly television is water; we simply don't mix.
  
However, I feel obliged to at least off a few words about the pilot episode.
  
I'll begin with these words: I hope it gets better.
  
  

 
Yes, I surely do.  Because this premiere episode is pretty mediocre.  Not awful; there are going to be people calling it awful, but I can't roll with that, because I've seen Beyond Westworld, and know what awful is.  THIS is mediocre, which is another thing altogether.
  

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Worst to Best: Novellas by Stephen King

"Novella" is a word that may have a gajillion different definitions, most of them very similar to one another.  I say "a gajillion," but more likely it's a mere few thousand.  Only people who get obsessed over classifications would even bother worrying about it.
  
I say this upfront so as to defuse a bit of the potential controversy that might result from what titles I have and have not included on this list.  It's a fairly simple process: I'm including novella-length works that did not get individually ranked on my recent Worst To Best list focusing on King's books.  So in other words, the individual components of Four Past Midnight are all included, whereas a few tales which were published as standalone books -- The Colorado Kid and Gwendy's Button Box come to mind -- are not included, despite being shorter than, say, "The Langoliers."
  
I've argued in the past that "The Langoliers" really ought to be considered a short novel rather than a novella, but if sanity is to prevail, then such issues must be set aside fairly quickly.
  
And so shall they be.  
  
Anyways, it's entirely possible some of you will think my classifications are bogus.  I've eliminated from consideration anything I consider to be a short story.  Some of these are stories you occasionally see listed as novellas, such as "Ur" and "N."  Conversely, some of the briefer things I've included are occasionally referred to as short stories, such as "Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption" and "The Little Sisters of Eluria."  Bottom line is: judgment calls on my part, going with my gut.  If you disagree, use them comments and tell me all about it.
  
So let's move on to the rankings, beginning with the cellar-dwellar:
  
  
#15 -- "The Sun Dog" (1990, from Four Past Midnight)
  
  
  
  
The fact that THIS is what I'd argue is the worst King novella indicates pretty good news for the rest of the list, because the fact is, I don't think this is too bad. Its greatest sin is that the kid who is ostensibly its hero is boring as unseasoned oatmeal.  Compared to most other hero-kid King characters, he's a nonentity.
  
King has more success with the concept: a Polaroid camera that seemingly takes photos of a dog from another world, a dog which seems to be aware of the person taking the photo and is moving ever closer, snarling and preparing to leap from one reality into the next.
  
I'd argue that King does a solid job with that concept, and also with the crusty old shop owner into whose hands the camera falls.  Pop Merrill -- uncle of Ace -- is a well-drawn character, and King might have been better-served to eliminate the kid and focus on Pop altogether.
  
So what we've got here is a case of the concept and the execution not quite measuring up.  It's not bad, but we can, and will, do better.
  
Not immediately, though...
  

Monday, May 29, 2017

As Close As the Next Page: A Hypothetical Collection of Stephen King's Nonfiction

Everyone knows that Stephen King is a prolific writer of fiction, but there's a good chance the average King fan has no idea that he has also written a great deal of nonfiction.  His published nonfiction output goes all the way back to his college days; he's been an essayist, a columnist, an opinionator, and a critic as long as he's been a fiction writer.  It's true that his fictional output is vastly larger, in terms of word-count (or so I assume); but that doesn't mean there isn't plenty of nonfiction with King's name on it.
  
Boy, is there!
  
In fact, way back in 2008 -- nearly ten years ago, mind you -- authors Rocky Wood and Justin Brooks needed 606 pages (in the form of Stephen King: The Nonfiction) to list and briefly summarize all the pieces they knew about.  That book is an epic in its own right, and one well worth reading if you are into that sort of thing.  I am, and consequently it is one of the most essential books about King that I own.
  
  
  
  
It makes for a terrific reference guide, and also for an acceptable substitute for reading the essays/articles/reviews/etc. themselves, many of which are damn near impossible to locate.
  
I've long held the opinion that fans would benefit from there being a weighty collection of King's nonfiction, and here, I've assembled a hypothetical table of contents for a hypothetical book of that precise nature.  
  
We'll call that hypothetical collection As Close As the Next Page, which seems like an invitingly mysterious title.  (I got it from a line in King's foreword to his fiction collection Night Shift.)  What might the cover look like?  Something folksy and pleasant, perhaps.  Maybe a photo a bit like this:
  
  
  
  
King's waiting for us in some small cafe or diner someplace, waiting so he can invite us to sit down and have a conversation with him, just like two reg'lar folks.
  
That's the tone of much of his nonfiction, so if not that precise photo, then maybe something like it.
  
Anyways, you get the idea.  Let's use it as a placeholder, howsabout?
  
With that in mind, what sort of book would As Close As the Next Page be?  We've certainly got a mountain of nonfiction to choose from, but the first step is to accept that it will be necessary to abandon ANY hopes of being comprehensive.  I'm mostly going to restrict myself to listing pieces that I have actually read, so if I've omitted something you feel needs to be here, let me know in the comments.  Maybe you'll have a copy you can send to me for consideration (hint-hint, ahem...)!

One thing that won't be appearing here: the various articles that comprise King's Garbage Truck, the column he wrote for his school newspaper while in college.  Similarly, I'm not considering his The Pop of King columns (written for Entertainment Weekly); many of them are good, and a few are great, but I'm leaving them out.   Most book and/or movie reviews, also out.  There are probably enough of these that they can be their own volume someday (in the hypothetical sense, if no other).

Et cetera.  We'll maybe discuss my selection criteria more as we proceed.  I enjoy a chronological approach, so we'll proceed in that manner, beginning with:
  

Saturday, May 27, 2017

Worst to Best: Stephen King Books (2017 edition)

The last time I updated this ranking of King's books was 2013, which in these times of hardship seems implausibly distant.  Uncle Steve has released seven new books in the intervening years (depending on what you count), and with each successive addition, I've felt like I needed to revisit this post.
  
And so I am, finally.
  
A word of warning: this list is horseshit.  You know that, right...?  All lists like this are horseshit.  And yet, it's also entirely correct, except in the places where I've undoubtedly forgotten how good some books are simply because it's been too long since I read them.  That, and in the places where I'm seeing one title or another through rose-colored glasses.  In those spots, I'm probably 100% wrong, but otherwise...?  100% right.
  
And yet: horseshit.
  
What I mean by that is this: don't take this sort of stuff too seriously.  I promise you that I don't, not even when it comes to my own rankings.  There's a good chance that this time next year, I'd put the titles in very different order.  My feelings about these books change over time; if I've re-read one recently, the odds are good that I've moved it up in my estimation; if I loved it when I read it the first time but have not returned to it, odds are good that my estimation of it will wither a bit the farther I get from it.  Listening to a podcast or reading a blog post about one book or another might have a similar effect: influencing me in some regard so as to move my opinion up or down a bit.  A new movie -- or even an old one revisited -- might affect my opinions.
  
In other words, I'm malleable, at least to some extent.  If I had total recall and could remember every word of these books, I might be able to accurately give you a ranking of my own opinions about them; I don't, and therefore can't, so what we're settling for is this list, which is actually just a chronicle of where my thinking about the books (in relation one to another) stands in -- in this case -- late May 2017.
  
Is that enough caveat-laden prevarication for you?  Probably so.  Amazingly, I have more, beginning with a short list of books I opted not to include, along with my justifications for omission:

  • The Best American Short Stories 2007 (King served only as editor; and if I'd actually read the book, I might include it just for shits and/or giggles, but I haven't)
  • Blockade Billy (since the two stories included in this book were later folded into one of King's collections, I figured I'd heave this version overboard, if only to avoid figuring out where to rank it)
  • Blood and Smoke (the stories contained in this audiobook exclusive were later collected in other books, and anyways, an audiobook isn't a book, as we all know -- if I ever rank the audiobooks, though, count on it being there, probably ranked pretty high)
  • Charlie the Choo-Choo (it's just an excerpt from The Waste Lands, so I consider this to be more of an adaptation than anything else)
  • The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer (you sometimes see this Rose Red spinoff listed as a King book, but it was actually written by Riddley Pearson)
  • The Journals of Elenaor Druse (a Kingdom Hospital spinoff that was actually written by Richard Dooling)
  • Mid-Life Confidential and Hard Listening (King was only a contributor to these two anthologies about the Rock Bottom Remainders)
  • Six Stories (all of the stories contained in this limited edition were collected later on in other books, so I didn't see the value in muddying the waters by including this, their original appearance)

If you've got strong feelings about any of those, I apologize in your general direction.  Be sure to tell me in the comments why you feel they ought to have been included; I'll take that feedback into consideration when I update this list again in 2021 or so.  (By the way, when I do that, I'm considering doing a simultaneous companion list that ranks not only all of King's books, but all the books by other members of the King family.  Good idea, bad idea, or somewhere in between?)

NOW we can begin in earnest, and we'll start with a couple of Honorable Mentions:
 

#HM -- Bare Bones (1988) and Feast of Fear (1989)





These two books -- the former from 1989, the latter from 1993, both edited by Tim Underwood and Chuck Miller -- are compilations of interviews King had given to various magazines and newspapers and such.  As such, neither can properly be considered to have been written by Stephen King.  So do they count as Stephen King books?

They do when you're reading them, I think, which is probably the only thing that matters.  In that spirit, I ranked both of these books on previous incarnations of this list.  Doing so never sat well with me; it's too difficult to assess them in comparison to each other, not to mention the question of how you assess them in relation to works of fiction.

If you were to do such a thing, I think you'd be obliged to make sheer readability and entertainment value your guiding principle.  For my money, both of these books score quite well in such a contest.  King's voice comes through clear as a bell, and if you are a fan of his and not merely a fan of his books and stories, then you owe it to yourself to track down copies of both of these.

By the way, there is also a third book (not from Underwood/Miller) in this vein: Fangoria: Masters of the Dark -- Stephen King and Clive Barker.  It came out in 1997 and contains interviews with those two authors that had previously appeared in Fangoria issues through the years.  It's good, too, so I guess I'm now giving it a sort of honorable-mention Honorable Mention.


#80 -- Stephen King Goes to the Movies (2009)




King's body of work is quite large, and across the forty-plus years he's been funneling the contents of his brain into the world via books, there aren't very many occasions on which you could have accused him of making a cash-grab.  What need have you of cash-grabs when you're one of the bestselling authors in the world?

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

A Brief Review of "Gwendy's Button Box"

And when I say "brief," I mean brief.
  
  

  
  
Gwendy's Button Box hit shelves yesterday, and thanks to the magic that is Amazon Prime, I received my copies (one hardback and one audiobook) mid-afternoon.
  
I waited until the end of the night to sit down with it, though, and that turned out to be okay, because I read it in one sitting.  I say "one sitting," but technically, there were several sittings in there.  The breaks were laundry-related, and I'm classifying them as pauses in the entire process, not in the actual reading.  So I'm claiming it was "one sitting," and by damn, we're all gonna have to be okay with that.
  
Anyways, I enjoyed the book.
  
I don't actually want to say anything more than that.  I went into it almost dead cold in terms of plot knowledge, which is how I like it.  I have no intention of spoiling anything about it -- which is not to say that there's any kind of a Serling-esque plot twist to be spoiled (there isn't [unless there is and this is just a ruse to throw you off the scent (it isn't)]) -- even by hinting at specifics.
  
Which prompts a question: what am I going to say here?
  

Thursday, May 4, 2017

A Celebration of the Marvel Cinematic Universe

I have three teenaged boys.  We've gone to all those Marvel superhero films.  I love the Marvel superhero films.  I think the level of quality is astonishing.  When I was a kid, there was only one Raiders of the Lost Ark.  That was a one-of-a-kind experience, and my kids get to have Raiders of the Lost Ark twice a year, because that's how often the Marvel films come out, and it's always at that level, which is so great.
--Joe Hill, Cemetery Dance #74/75, 2016
  

I encountered that quote from Joe Hill recently while reading an interview conducted by Bev Vincent.  My knee-jerk reaction was, "Hey, Joe, calm down: there's still only one Raiders of the Lost Ark.  Which in a literal sense is entirely true, but let's not kid ourselves: as great as that movie is -- and it is GREAT -- it is not an island unto itself.  There are other movies which offer a similar level of action/adventure at a roughly equal level of entertainment value.  
  
I leave it to you to determine what goes on the list and what doesn't, but if we were stepping back to just a few years prior to Raiders and strolling right up to the present day, my list would include things like the Star Wars trilogy, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, a handful of James Bond films, at least one other Indiana Jones film (Temple of Doom), the first Pirates of the Caribbean, and so forth.
  
I say this not to devalue Raiders of the Lost Ark or take pedantic umbrage with Hill's assertion, but to make a point: great popcorn movies are always worth celebrating.  And I think we sometimes forget to do so.  Hill's thoughts on the Marvel movies caught my eye, and while my knee-jerk reaction was to puff up and think about how nothing equals Raiders, the reaction that followed a split-second behind that one was, "Damn, he's right, and I'm glad somebody with his reputation is saying that!"
  
This tied in with a recent series of posts at my favorite blog on the subject of the "Favorite Films of My Lifetime" craze that's been sweeping the Internet.  Those posts (which cover exactly the same years I myself have been alive) can be read here: Part 1 (1974-1979), Part 2 (1980-1989), Part Three (1990-1999), and Part 4 (2000-2016).  I left some comments listing my own favorites: three per year, in my case.  When I got to the new millennium, I found that I'd named something like seven of the Marvel movies for my top-three-of-that-year picks, which sort of surprised me.  But it shouldn't, because Marvel is making movies that fall squarely within the reasons why I love movies to begin with.  I remembered this when I read Hill's comments and thought, yep, he's onto something here.
  
I had no intention of blogging about the Marvel movies here, since there's no King connection. Then, I saw Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, which, with some of these thoughts fresh in mind, struck me as being pure magic.  I was buzzing about it, and about the Marvel Cinematic Universe in general, for hours afterward, and the bottom line is that I just feel like writing a few words about it.
  
You might be surprised that I'd devote time to this topic when I arguably could have instead written about the recently-released trailer for The Dark Tower, but I'm not necessarily a current-events type of guy.  I did see the trailer, of course -- numerous times -- and will say that I think it looks great.

And the guy playing Roland is a co-star of a few of the movies on this list, isn't he?  So there's THAT for a connection.
  
Anyways, back to Marvel: it's easy to find people online carping about various aspects of the films; none of them diminishes the sum total of what Marvel has achieved.  It's also easy to find people online praising them for it, and I doubt I'll say anything that somebody else hasn't already said more eloquently.
  
That's not what this is about, though.  This is about me giving a little bit of thanks for the fact that Marvel has been giving me a terrific jolt of entertainment on a regular basis for nearly ten years now.  To some extent, I've been taking that for granted, and would like to balance those scales a bit.
  
  
  
  
So follow along with me, and let's take a stroll through those first nine years, one gem at a time.