Eva Moon's Blog

I was interviewed in Elena Hartwell Taylor’s “The Mystery of Writing” blog.

People often ask me why I’m so fascinated by Pinocchio. I’ve written a play and now, a novel about him. I don’t feel that I chose Pinocchio so much as he chose me.

The original story ends when he gets his wish to be a real boy, and the assumption is that he lived happily ever after. But it’s a funny thing about wishes. Can you ever really know now what will make you happy in the future?

… I’ve wondered what h...

In an interesting plot twist the day after this post, 12 robots (and counting) have “reviewed” my book on the popular book site Reedsy Discovery. Many of them have the off-kilter feel of having been translated into another language and then back into English. Or the recursive dizziness of a review based on a review based on a review… I present these excerpts for your bemusement. We are doomed.

Ryan Mecum’s “Pinocchio’s Guide to the End of the World” is a distinctive and engrossing book that ...

Here are reviews of my book from three different A.I. engines. For the most part, unsurprisingly, they are mashups of reviews written by humans. But with a few twists.

First, ChatGPT. I give it points for originality. It contains the least content taken directly from existing sources:

I’m sorry, but as an AI language model, I cannot read books, as I do not have the capacity to perceive or interpret written text. However, I can provide you with some general information about the book “Pino...

This week I had the pleasure of speaking with CK Love on her “Midlife on Fire” podcast. She interviews women who have stories to tell about how they are defying our society’s demands on women in midlife: Demands to disappear, to go quietly, to accept their place that is no place; Women who defy the antiquated notion that as women age they become less useful, less valuable, and the only power we ever had was our youth;  Women coming out into the light and do it in their own way, carving out space...

Eva Moon manages to balance humor, adventure, and drama in PINOCCHIO’S GUIDE TO THE END OF THE WORLD and the warm humanity of her characters helps illuminate one of the darkest chapters of the 20th century.

IndieReader

An unofficial sequel and a re-imagining of the classic children’s book by Carlo Collodi. 

Readers all know the story of Pinocchio, a living puppet that wanted to become a real boy. However, not many people nowadays read Carlo Collodi’s 1881 novel. If they did, they’d be surprised to learn that Pinocchio is both less likable and more savagely punished for his gullibility (at one point in the novel, robbers hang him). Most importantly, it is not his sacrifice but his willingness to accept his father’s authority that grants Pinocchio his wish.

Eva Moon’s PINOCCHIO’S GUIDE TO THE END OF THE WORLD is both an unofficial sequel to Collodi’s novel and a rebuttal to his message about the virtues of obedience…

Throughout the story, Moon stresses that Pinocchio’s flaws make him human, not his obedience to Geppetto. Yes, he can be impulsive, headstrong, and naive. But Pinocchio is also resourceful, loyal, and willing to risk himself to help others. Cruel and uncaring living manikins embody the ideal of absolute and utter obedience – not just to the father, but to the Fatherland. … here we meet its most memorable characters: circus clowns Armond, Matya, and Vrak. In addition, it is here we get a fantastic, unsettling, gory scene worthy of a horror novel. It may not be to everyone’s taste, but it works. Oh, how it works.

Eva Moon manages to balance humor, adventure, and drama in PINOCCHIO’S GUIDE TO THE END OF THE WORLD and the warm humanity of her characters helps illuminate one of the darkest chapters of the 20th century.

Read full review here >>

The post My Second Review appeared first on Eva Moon.

… and they loved it! It’s an Editor’s Pick on Booklife (the indie arm of Publishers Weekly).  
https://booklife.com/project/pinocchio-s-guide-to-the-end-of-the-world-81097​

“EDITOR’S PICK: Playwright and musician Moon’s richly inventive debut novel proves as enchanting—and as darkly surprising—as the original fairytale from which it takes inspiration. Moon has structured the story as an interview, conducted in 1993, with the retired real Pinocchio, a puppet turned “real boy” turned Fascist-belting hero whose romances and adventures among real 20th century figures will quite literally change history, all as he faces a magical mystery and threat involving the Blue Lady who granted him his wish—and who has brought life to other marionettes, known as Blues. Meanwhile, rumors abound of vicious “Manikins” hunting Blues, possibly created by and working for enemies of the Blue Lady … or even that brutal new chancellor of Germany, Hitler.

Told in engaging, conversational style (“I thought of the Fascists, the Nazis, the Manikins. Evil was eating up Europe like a plague of rats.”) Pinocchio’s narrative blends revisionist historical fiction with playful fabulist elements and dead-serious stakes. It’s a fairy tale for adults that doesn’t blink at the real world’s harshness or cheapen historical atrocities when lacing in the fantastic. Moon’s riffing on the source material has thematic integrity—after Pinocchio loses a flesh-and-blood leg in the Italian army in World War I, his “papa” Gepetto fashions a wooden replacement for the one-time marionette, an accommodation that informs the rest of a life. That life that finds him exploring as a sailor and a puppeteer, experiencing love and loss, and, crucially, daring to face the dangers of fascism on the rise. Pinocchio and the “Blue underground” relishes the fight, but he’s no two-fisted pulp hero. “I wasn’t a natural-born human, and I never would be no matter how many stars I wished on,” this wounded hero declares. But he’s also, in his ways, as human as it comes, as Moon’s fantasy showcases the heart it takes to stand up for what’s best in us all as that evil threatens to swallow the world. Takeaway: The surprising story of Pinocchio taking on fascism, written with polish and playful power.”

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There is certainly no shortage of Pinocchio movies. Guillermo del Toro’s version is the third this year. It will air on Netflix in December, but I attended an advance screening. Is this version any better than the twenty-nine film versions that have preceded it? I haven’t seen them all, but I’ve seen more (and read more Pinocchio books) than anyone should reasonably be subjected to under the Geneva Conventions, so I have an informed opinion.

I believe this version deserves to become a classic. Del Toro manages to find the balance between the wild delinquent Pinocchio in Collodi’s original book and the cloying, awful Disney versions. He’s a loose cannon, but so charming you can’t help but root for him. The movie has plenty of del Toro’s trademark darkness, but also touching clarity about childhood delight and finding beauty in unlikely places. I struggled to grok the intended audience. It will frighten young children, but adult audiences might not give it the chance it deserves. If you love Tim Burton’s movies, you should be captivated by this one.

The animation is stop-motion, but doesn’t look it – there’s very little of the stiff jerkiness associated with stop-motion. You won’t be aware of it except in details like ocean waves, where it serves to make the very frightening giant dogfish a little less frightening. The backgrounds are beautifully reminiscent of Italian renaissance paintings. The songs are inoffensive and forgettable.

Del Toro has set his Pinocchio in real-world Italy during the rise of fascism between the World Wars. This is what I have done in my novel as well, though in mine, he is an adult rather than a child puppet, and doesn’t stay in Italy. Even so, I have to swallow a lump of fear that people will think I was influenced by his version in writing mine. I wasn’t. Honest. Mine was written from beginning to end before I ever became aware that del Toro had a movie in the works. Guillermo, I forgive you for stealing my idea.

Final word: Do give this movie a chance, even if you don’t think you can stand another Pinocchio movie.

The post Movie Review: Guillermo del Toro’s “Pinocchio” appeared first on Eva Moon.

A friend came to visit the other day. We carved jack-o-lanterns, roasted pepitas, and yakked. We played music and sang. We had dinner. All in all, an excellent time. But it felt like returning to something I’d done in a hazy past life. Familiar but also uncertain. Like reciting a poem that you once knew by heart and hope will come back if you don’t think too hard.

How long had it been since the last time I invited a friend into my home just for the pleasure of their company?

I’m not exactly a recluse. I go out, I travel, I spend time with friends every week. But since the pandemic, home had become a fortress. Aside from family and bandmates, the drawbridge is up, the portcullis down, and the “None May Enter” sign is lit. My once-robust habits of hospitality were atrophied by my recent monk-like home life: was I falling into my own thoughts and forgetting to speak? Or had I been blathering and forgetting to listen? Did I remember to offer my guest food and drink or had she been forced to ask?

I think I did all right. But parts of the afternoon were lost in the sort of dreamlike fog that I’ve been able to get away with for the past few years and I missed too much of something I’d been looking forward to.

I don’t want to be asleep at the table. It’s time to lower the drawbridge, shake the moths out of the threadbare metaphors, and welcome the world.

Hello, World. It’s been ages! How have you been?

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I’ve spent the past week in British Columbia enjoying the many pleasures our beautiful northern neighbor has to offer. Driving has not been the least of them. But I did have a few things to learn.

Don’t stand in the vicinity of a crosswalk if you don’t plan to cross immediately. Canadians are polite to the point of aggressive civility and will stop for a pedestrian who is still at home contemplating an outing. I have crossed any number of streets I didn’t want to solely to appease a driver who clearly will not budge until I obey. It’s led to some interesting routes and a fitness gain.

Frequently, otherwise ordinary green traffic lights and green arrows will begin flashing for no obvious reason. I’ve read articles about this and it’s still a mystery. It apparently means different things depending on what province you’re in and (get this) the blink rate. I will bet you a loonie that Canadians don’t understand it either. I have just decided it means proceed with extra politeness.

For my entire life in the U.S., a diamond icon on a lane has meant HOV. A ”high-occupancy vehicle” could be a bus, a carpool, or even one woman with semen-stained panties, in some states. In Canada, however, the SAME ICON means whatever the Ministry of Transportation was in the mood for on street painting day. It could be carpools. It could be buses. It could be bicycles. It could be geese. Look for clues.

Canada is a big country and life is short. Pick up the pace or prepare to be passed. Passing appears to be a national sport in Canada. I have no problem with this. It’s far better than the American pastime of angry tailgating. But to give you an idea of just how much Canadians hate to be stuck behind slow drivers, here’s a true story:

Construction narrowed the road we were on to a single lane just wide enough not to graze the car door handles. It was lined on both sides by orange traffic cones placed about every six centimeters. And yet, TransCa felt the need to post a large “NO PASSING” sign.

Tomorrow we head home. It’s been a great week. Thanks, Canada. You have a lovely country and I hope you keep it that way forever. Quirks included.

The post Driving in Canada: Notes from a Clueless American appeared first on Eva Moon.

I won’t keep you in suspense. I loathed Disney’s Pinocchio remake.

Now, admittedly, I’ve spent years thinking and writing about Pinocchio as an allegory for the human struggle to find authenticity and meaning. I wrote a play about him (“Geppetto’s Funeral”) and my novel, “Pinocchio’s Guide the End of the World” is coming out in March, 2023. So my standards might be higher than some. The Disney movie is intended for children who may enjoy it on a level I can’t.

But honestly, I don’t think it’s just me. It’s bad.

Disney has managed to remove every last splinter of spunk out of the poor boy. Not that they didn’t do most of that work in the 1940 version. But the new script is wooden, the dialogue obvious and heavy-handed, the pacing glacial. The tree Pinocchio was carved from probably grew from an acorn faster than Jiminy’s opening monologue. Scenes flip from one to the next as if they’re being checked off on a story-beat list by a weary production manager. Wishing star. Check. Dancing marionettes. Check. Donkey ears. Check. It achieved the trick of feeling both interminable and fleeting at the same time. Maybe I napped, but when Pinoke and Pops were being sneezed out of a whale, I was like, wait, is this the end already? I was still pining for something interesting to happen. To start caring.

Not even poor Tom Hanks could breathe life or charm into his vapid lines. He did a great job of looking sad and old. I don’t blame him.

The visuals were beautifully rendered, but beautifully rendered visuals are the bare minimum these days—a matter of budget and imagination. Disney has piles of the first and seems to have run out of the second. Excellent production values cannot take the place of good storytelling and characters with enough humanity to fall in love with and cheer on through their struggles.

Disney used to be brave enough to go to the dark, primal places fairy tales are supposed to go. Snow White had some scary shit in it. My toddler son was traumatized by those hallucinogenic pink elephants in Dumbo. Bambi’s mother was shot by a hunter, for Walt’s sake!

This was a movie designed by accountants and lawyers.

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