Battlestar Galactica will be ending after its fourth season airs in 2008. As much as I will miss my weekly dose of Gaius Baltar’s pompous sniveling and Caprica Six’s icy hotness, the producers are probably right to bring the story to an end before inertia sets in (I’m looking at you, Chris Carter). Ideally, the success of BSG will foster the development of more intelligent science fiction, although the Darwinian economics of television typically don’t select for intelligence. In the meantime, I suppose I better start saving up for the inevitable Super Exclusive Collector’s Edition DVD Set (Ultimate Super Exclusive Collector’s Edition DVD Set sold separately).

The Historian is a novel in search of a coherent narrative structure and a paring knife. The premise is interesting enough, if a bit rehashed: the vampire Dracula is alive and well in the mid-20th century and making life difficult for several scholars around the world. Rarely has a novel made such a concerted effort to depict life in academia with what is intended to be excitement. but any thrills the plot generates are effectively rendered stillborn by the plodding pace and the novel’s baffling construction. Flashbacks can be an effective narrative device if used judiciously. Unfortunately, the author chooses to tell much of the story via extended flashbacks that kill the forward momentum of the main story. And then there are the flashbacks-within-flashbacks. I’m not one of your MFA instructors, Ms. Kostova. Put away your bag of tricks and just tell the damn story. And quit having your characters exclaim “Alas!” and “Alack!” Even during the Eisenhower years, nobody talked like this.

Overall, this is a mediocre retread of vampire mythos. You’re better off picking up Bram Stoker’s classic. It’s shorter and the dialog, while baroque, is less likely to make your eyes roll.

Next up is Robert Charles Wilson’s Spin.

I glanced at my Frappr map the other day and noted with satisfaction that several more readers have marked their locations. A big hello to my fans in Uganda and Togo. But South America, Asia, and Australia remain blank. Clearly, I need to do more to increase my international appeal. Hmm. I’m already strongly critical of Bush. I know jack about soccer–er, football–so that’s out. I could try writing something en francais, but I don’t think that will attract people in Argentina or China. I guess I’ll just have to depend on my charm and good looks. Think of me as more humble, more respectful, more well-informed mirror image of all those ugly Americans that come traipsing through your countries with their fanny packs and baseball caps.

I checked out the recently completed Gold Medal Park this afternoon. It’s impressive. Located on the riverfront near the Guthrie, its defining feature is a gently sloping hilltop (which is perfectly accessible) that offers panoramic views of downtown and the booming Mill District. Plenty of other people were there, playing with their dogs or making sketches of the scenery or simply lounging in the grass. It’s a beautiful addition to the neighborhood and provides another reason why I feel fortunate to live downtown. We need more green spaces like this. Might I recommend the city do something similar with the rather bleak expanse of pavement that is the northern end of Nicollet Mall? The area is an eyesore and doesn’t seem to attract much business; sprucing it up would nicely complement the Central Library.

Next time I go, I’ll try to remember to take my camera.

Today marks the thirtieth anniversary of the release of Star Wars. And while I wish I could say that I was one of those guys who saw it in the theaters umpteen times, I cannot. After all, I was barely four at the time. I didn’t have the full Star Wars cinematic experience until three years later, when my dad took to me to see The Empire Strikes Back. I was a little bewildered with the plot because somehow I still hadn’t seen the first one (remember, this was back when VCRs and cable TV were still in their “early adopter” phase and my parents hadn’t adopted either). I was sitting in theater, trying to puzzle out exactly who these Rebels were and why the Empire didn’t seem to like them very much. Then the AT-ATs invaded Hoth and I became too enthralled to think much about the backstory.

Since then, the Star Wars films (at least the original trilogy) have served as a kind of mental comfort food. In later years, they were the movies I would put on when I was feeling sick or bored. I fantasized about being able to move objects with my Jedi mind powers. They were second only to my father (who introduced me to Asimov and Tolkien and chess and computers) in terms of awakening my inner geek. So thanks, Mr. Lucas. Your prequels left me a bit cold, but I could watch Episode IV a hundred more times and never get tired of it.