George Romero, novelist. But there's something I'm not sure about:

Publisher Vicki Mellor said that zombies were "one of the new buzz words in publishing". "I think that the world is ready to re-embrace the zombie culture - after the massive amount of vampire novels that have been published, it's time for a change of antagonist," she said. "We are very aware that there is going to be an explosion of zombie novels being published over the next year, but we absolutely believe that we have the definitive novel from the one author whom every fan of the genre will want to read."

There's been a big-budget zombie movie every year since 28 Days Later in 2002, and that's not even getting started on video games, comics, and some already successful novel franchises. The zombie bubble is clearly about to burst; I'm urging strong sell on zombies and buy on the Wolfman.

News of the upcoming AMC adaptation encouraged me to check out the trade paperbacks of Robert Kirkman's zombie comic The Walking Dead (wiki), whose ten-book / sixty-issue run I subsequently blew through in about three days (including some just-can't-stop reading until 4 or 5 AM last night). The Walking Dead is one of a handful of books like Y: The Last Man or Planetary that are just painfully, painfully good, and since neither of those titles are being published regularly it may just be the best title on the market right now. Or so it seems to me now, in the full throes of this terrible zombie high. Kirkman describes his intent in the introduction to Days Gone By to create the feel of a George Romero film that never ends, and damned if he doesn't nail it. Unflinching, brutal, innovative, and intensely unforgiving, with an acutely Mbembian sense of what survival is and what it means, this is a must-read instant classic of the genre.

I promise you won't regret picking it up.

Image Comics has generously put the first issue online to get you started. Then head down to your local comic shop to get the trades.

The Ballardian watches Day of the Dead.

The mall in both Ballard and Romero becomes a city, a country, a galaxy, a self-sustaining micronational state seceding from reality, a State of mind absorbing and zombifying all it touches, and the faceless, cartoonish football hordes in KC are consumer zombies as much as the walking dead in Romero are metaphorically intended to be.

Yet, if you tweak your perspective just a little, the survivors in both could conversely be read as the oppressors, the old world clinging to its accumulated wealth, hording it for themselves in the face of the zombie attack — an all-devouring, ever-growing underclass.

Bruce is coming to Greensboro tonight, and I've got tickets, so all is right with the world. It's my first Springsteen concert since Summer 2000, which is much too long to take the sacrament.

* The New York Times goes inside the world's last pinball factory.

* The British science fiction series I've always wanted to see, Blake's 7, is going to be remade a la Battlestar Galactica.

* Who is Tom Bombadil?

* Elizabeth Edwards takes on the media for its shoddy coverage of the presidential primaries thus far.

* Few people are writing more cogently about George Romero's zombie movies than this post at The Pinocchio Theory.

* And I'm trying hard to think of a movie I've seen this year that was more fun than Air Guitar Nation.

A product of the bomb, yes surely. But far more than that Godzilla is a metaphor for the bomb, as the movie makes clear in almost every frame. This is not your parents' Godzilla, the 1956 recut with Raymond Burr inserted as American interlocutor, a paragon of western stoicism with his boxy suit and pipe held aloft like a talisman. The Japanese original is far darker and more seamless, a topical fantasy of uncommon power. It may not be a great film, but it is an important one, a surprisingly sombre meditation on means and ends, on when exactly the price of peace becomes too costly to pay.

The Guardian apparently gave away DVDs of the original 1954 Godzilla with yesterday's issue; at CommentIsFree, Christopher Orr explains why Gojira is not just another monster movie. Of course, most monster movies aren't "just another monster movie," either; in fact almost none of them are...

Inside Higher Ed has an interview with Kim Paffenroth, author of Gospel of the Living Dead: George Romero’s Visions of Hell on Earth.

Q: In the New Testament, Jesus dies, then comes back to life. His followers gather to eat his flesh and drink his blood. I am probably going to hell for this, but .... Is Christianity a zombie religion?

A: I think zombie movies want to portray the state of zombification as a monstrous perversion of the idea of Christian resurrection. Christians believe in a resurrection to a new, perfect state where there will be no pain or disease or violence. Zombies, on the other hand, are risen, but exist in a state where only the basest, most destructive human drive is left — the insatiable urge to consume, both as voracious gluttons of their fellow humans, and as mindless shoppers after petty, useless, meaningless objects. It’s both a profoundly cynical look at human nature, and a sobering indictment of modern, American consumer culture.

Q: The human beings in Romero’s world are living through an experience of “hell on earth.” as your subtitle says. There are nods towards some possible naturalistic explanation for the dead within the films (that a virus or “space radiation” somehow brought corpses back to life) but the cause is never very useful or important to any of the characters. And some characters do think mankind is finally being punished. Is the apocalyptic dimension just more or less inevitable in this kind of disaster, or is it deliberate? To what degree is Romero’s social satire consciously influenced by Christian themes? Or are those themes just inevitably built into the scenario and imagery?

A: I think “apocalyptic” has just come to mean “end of civilization,” so of course, any movie or book with that as its premise is, by definition, “apocalyptic.” And even if we throw in the interpretation “God’s mad at us — that big, mean God!” I still don’t think that’s very close to real, biblical apocalyptic.

Romero’s view is a lot closer to biblical apocalyptic or prophetic literature, for he seems to make it clear, over and over, that humanity deserves this horror, and the humans in the films go to great lengths to make the situation even worse than it is already — by their cruelty, greed, racism, and selfishness. Whether this is conscious or accidental, I really can’t address with certainty: I only note that his prophetic vision is compatible with a Christian worldview, not that it stems from that.

Thanks to Allen for the link.

Saturday potpourri:

* Science is still teasing me with dreams of immortality:

A genetically engineered organism that lives 10 times longer than normal has been created by scientists in California. It is the greatest extension of longevity yet achieved by researchers investigating the scientific nature of ageing.

* At culturemonkey, Ryan's got an essential take on There Will Be Blood that I think people who have seen the movie should be very interested in reading. (There's a good sidebar on No Country for Old Men too, the movie with which There Will Be Blood will forever be paired.) Click the [+/-] for a brief, spoiler-laden excerpt.

In TWBB one gets the impression from Eli, a grotesque parody of Christianity as both the paradigmatic model for non-capitalist politics and a type of show business, that stories can no longer be seriously invested in. Instead we learn to see Plainview the same way he sees others: "I see the worst in people. I don't have to look past seeing them to get all I need." In the much-criticized final showdown in the bowling alley, this impression of God and his earthly salesmen is rendered painfully concrete. It's the scene where the film's facade of realism, though always unsettled, is strained to the point of absurdity: the priest recants, he is made to suffer for his sins, and behold, his milkshake, it hath been drunk! But not even the grand narrative of entrepreneurial capitalism can survive past the last shot. The realization that has been building over the course of the film, in the form of Plainview's increasingly strained encounters with Standard Oil and the unstoppable expansion of monopoly power it represents -- that the individual capitalist is no longer a suitable vessel for the daemon of capital -- comes at last to fruition, and so with the resignation "I'm finished," the lights go out. The camera apparently hasn't the right to follow. But is it irrational hope to wonder if nostalgia for the end of a distant era can reflect any light back on the end of one still present? Or has Plainview eaten that as well?

Not to toot my own horn, but I think there have been some interesting points made by both Ryan and myself in the comments of that post, too.

* Sci-Fi Weekly has a good interview with George Romero on Diary of the Dead and what's next for the definitive zombie franchise.

Romero: I have this balls-out comedy zombie thing that I have wanted to do for three years. It's basically the coyote and the roadrunner. It's one human and one zombie. You can do a lot of damage to a zombie and it still lives. So I just had this idea that I'd love to do that as almost a cartoon. That's the one that's closest to my heart, but I don't know if anyone's ever going to get it enough to say, "OK, we'll finance that."

* Although most people have been saying that the writers' strike won them a good deal, delightful crackpot Harlan Ellison insists the writers actually got taken for a ride.

* It has become so much part of conventional wisdom that affluence is a problem that it is hard to imagine that attitudes were ever different. The media is full of stories about problems that allegedly owe much to our affluent lifestyles, including environmental degradation, social inequalities and even mental illness. Daniel Ben-Ami at the Spiked Review of Books remembers John Kenneth Galbraith's excellent The Affluent Society as a prelude to launching a broadside attack on it.

* And at the Valve, John Holbo says Douglas Wolk's Reading Comics is the best work of literary criticism of the last year. I've been meaning to pick this up; now I have no excuse not to.