"Seek not the good in external things. Seek it in thyself." - Epictetus

Home of the bookless: Why don’t Americans read?

It’s long been my personal belief that you can ascertain the overall intellectual makeup of a populace by determining its literacy rate. The majority of people I’ve known who are in my age range (I’m 31, at the time of writing) either show no interest in reading, have never read books for pleasure, or believe that reading is a waste of time. That being said, it varies by area. My home town in New Jersey, along with its surrounding area, was readerless more often than not; the closest book stores were in other towns closer to the city, and the local library was often empty save for people using the Internet. Conversely, in Chicago, there are six bookstores in my neighborhood alone.

It isn’t just a matter of book availability, however. According to demographics obtained by the Pew Research Center, 26 percent of Americans say they have not read a book in the past year, whether in paper, electronic, or audio form. That might not seem like much, but it’s quite a significant number, and an increase from a prior Pew survey in 2011. This means that more and more U.S. citizens are choosing not to read, and it’s a bit disturbing. But let’s move on, and take a look at the people in this country who can’t read, as well as those who have a hard time of it.

As a study conducted by the U.S. Department of Education and the National Institute of Literacy found, 32 million adults in the U.S. don’t know how to read. 32 million. That’s one in seven grown men and women in this nation. Meanwhile, 21 percent of adults read below a fifth grade level, and 19 percent of high school graduates cannot read. The literacy rate in this country has not improved since then; it’s actually taken a turn for the worse. The ripple effect of illiteracy is fraught with its own growing problems. According to the Department of Justice, “the link between academic failure, violence, and crime is welded to reading failure.” As confirmation of that statement, here’s another stat for you: 70 percent of America’s prison inmates cannot read above a fourth-grade level.

On the other hand, let’s take a look across the pond. European countries – particularly in Scandinavia – have much higher literacy rates than Americans do, and people there are much more likely to do it for enjoyment or as a frequent hobby. In Norway, Finland, and Luxembourg, 100 percent of the population is literate. Slovakia, my family’s home country, has a literacy rate of 99.6 percent. That beats out the 86 percent rate for the U.S., based on data collected in a 2013 survey by the U.S. Department of Education. Slovenia, Estonia, Belarus, Ukraine – these places also have impressively high literacy rates. In other words, each of these countries I’ve mentioned has more people per capita who know how to read than does the U.S.

This blog post is not meant to be an attack on the country in which I live or its citizens. And yet, I can’t deny that I’m incredibly embarrassed and disappointed, as well as worried about the intellectual future of a society in which people don’t know when the Declaration of Independence was signed, think Christopher Columbus discovered America, can’t tell you where the Panama Canal is, who Julius Caesar was, or name the capital of their own state. Most infuriating about this all is that things were not always this way. There has been a significant dumbing down of U.S. culture over the past several decades. In 1960, the illiteracy rate here was 2.4 percent, according to the U.S. Department of Commerce. Now it’s 14.

According to journalist Charles Pierce, who wrote Idiot America, “the rise of idiot America today represents the breakdown of a consensus that the pursuit of knowledge is a good. It also represents the ascendancy of the notion that the people whom we should trust the least are the people who best know what they’re talking about.” This is very much in line with reality, with people left and right (no political allusions intended) claiming that “climate change is a hoax,” or “the moon landing was faked.” To say nothing of the Flat Earthers, the “Targeted Individuals," the New World Order fanatics, so on and so forth. We are living in a scary time, in which scientific fact is disregarded by a portion of the populace who do not understand it, or who are simply incapable of doing so. I mean, when people believe that space travel never happened, that carbon dating is “wrong,” and that there’s no such thing as evolution, how can one possibly argue or reason with a person like that?

There’s no getting around it; the fact that so many people cannot, will not, do not read, plays an enormous role in ignorance and lack of education. 18 percent of Americans believe that the sun revolves around the Earth. During Obama’s term as president, 29 percent of U.S. citizens could not identify Joe Biden as the vice-president. 56 percent of Americans think that vaccinations cause autism.

We should not aspire to ignorance. We should aspire to being well-read, to being informed, and to conducting ourselves with logic and discernment. We should hone our skills of research and reasoning, to act upon facts and rational thought, not emotional triggers, prejudice-based conclusions, or conspiratorial groupthink. We should crave knowledge, not shun it in favor of regressive macho, know-nothing mentalities. However, at the risk of being controversial, I would add that my generation in particular – those “Millennials” who so many older folks see as being so advanced and forward-thinking, are major contributors to The Ignorance Problem. They’ve become too engrossed in their smartphones, too welded to social media, too reliant upon Google. They’re accustomed to instant gratification, which has too often replaced their self-reliance and the impetus to sharpen proper analysis and investigation skills.

I’ve said this time and again, but I encourage people to open a book. Whether it’s Shakespeare or Neil Gaiman. Whether it’s a novel or a comic book. Whether it’s a technical manual or a book on language. Whether it’s fiction or non. Whether it’s a story or poetry. A single book or a series of novels. Fan-fiction or song lyrics. Anything. Don’t be like one of the ignorance-addled characters in Fahrenheit 451; be like the man who wrote it. Remember: The only knowledge that can hurt you is the knowledge you don’t have.

Why epic fantasy is essential, not escapist

I’m currently re-reading the first three books in The Stormlight Archive, a series of epic fantasy novels by Brandon Sanderson, in preparation for the fourth and newest volume, Rhythm of War. Its expected release date is November 17. These are big door-stopper novels coming in somewhere between 1,200 and 1,300 pages each. Just the way I like them. But as far as my astute and observant eyes can tell, I’m in the minority here in several ways. Firstly, I read and own actual books – hardcovers and paperbacks alike, rather than downloading content on an Amazon Kindle or some other e-reader. Furthermore, I don’t know a lot of people who read fantasy (I can count the friends who do so on one hand), and of those who are interested, many prefer a much less daunting and comfortable page count of 300-700 pages, or thereabouts.

I’m just glad to know that I have friends who are fans of the genre. It’s something that, as both a reader and aspiring author, I find myself surreptitiously looking for in people – trying to discern their reading habits and their fiction genres of choice. I live with an older roommate who is an avid reader, though much of his personal library is political non-fiction or history, with a few science books and perhaps a handful of mystery novels thrown into the mix. A coworker of mine likes political history and philosophy, though he will also enjoy graphic novels and some of the more popular fantasy novels; he even has a friend who has self-published a short book in the genre. If I look beyond people in my immediate orbit, such as musicians and artists who I closely follow, I’m always pleased to see Cristina Scabbia of Lacuna Coil reading Batman or Star Wars comics, or Brittney Slayes of Unleash the Archers reading The Witcher series.

Fantasy is one of the most important – and simultaneously one of the most disregarded – forms of literary fiction. More than that, it’s one of the most influential cultural underpinnings of Western society. Our very language has been shaped by countless decades of epic tales; the word “muggle” has now officially entered the Oxford English Dictionary, and “dracarys” (High Valyrian for “fire”) is remembered and known by a wide range of people. Is there anyone who doesn’t know what a Hobbit is? Or a Jedi? Or Excalibur? Maybe that one weird uncle you have who binge-watches The Weather Channel and likes to show everyone his stamp collection. But different strokes for different folks. Hell, as the proliferation of epic fantasy continues to migrate onto streaming platforms like Netflix and Prime, more people will know what a Mandalorian is, and be well acquainted with the term Witcher.

Still, there are many out there who find the genre to be crass, uncouth; the stuff of childish pastimes. Some stuffed shirts, scholars, and others with a myopic, clinical worldview might tell you to put the toys away and grow up. It’s a flawed stereotype that outsiders have regarding zealous adherents to fantasy fandoms. To them, a comic convention or a Magic: The Gathering game night is not a pop culturally charged campfire around which friends can bond and share their joy in captivating fictional worlds, but rather, something silly and foolish – a collection of supposed man-children abandoning the stifling beleaguerment of drink-the-Kool-Aid-academia and exhaustive political squabble. When the truth is, fantasy has long been among the cornerstones of popular culture, consumed and appreciated by men, women, and children alike.

And yet, the naysayers continue their diatribes, sometimes even from within the very circle of fantasy authorship itself. In a recent interview, Watchmen creator Alan Moore derided superhero comics and films (presumably with the exception of his own because it’s like, you know, postmodern and sociopolitically conscious). Moore claimed that superhero films in particular have “blighted culture,” that they should be for children, and that attempts to make them palatable to or directed toward adults are “grotesque.” What Moore failed to address, and what he should very well know, is that from the 1930s to the 1950s, many comic books were extremely violent, and certainly not the stuff of childhood consumption. Many did not cease being dark and gritty until the advent of the Comics Code Authority, which censored and effectively ended that Golden Age of Comics, reducing superheroes to relatively innocent, youth-targeted do-gooders, rather than the morally and philosophically complex character studies they would become a few decades later.

You see, despite the integrity, intellectualism, and narrative brilliance that so many fantasy works offer, there remains a certain portion of society that looks upon it with disgust or embarrassment. Yet many of them secretly crave much of what fantasy stories contain – it’s simply that, for whatever reason, the aesthetics and many of the actual components of what make fantasy, well, fantasy, are just too much for them to absorb. I don’t think it’s even so much a case of people not being able to suspend their disbelief; rather, I think there’s something about it that just makes them feel as though they’re doing something wrong. I think it also has something to do with people’s perceptions of their own reputations. I notice that people in academic circles, or those who have careers in very real, material areas such as law or medicine…these people in particular seem to regard the elements of a fantasy narrative as something not to be indulged in openly, or else something that would render them socially weird or out of place, like a businessman happily walking the streets with an untied shoe.

Of those who do consume fantasy but don’t wear it on their sleeve, and seem to feel almost guilty after tuning into an episode of Game of Thrones, or pushing aside Steinbeck and Hemingway in exchange for Tolkien and Martin, they almost always call the genre as a whole “escapism.” For some, it’s a way to separate and compartmentalize the genre, so that it won’t somehow break free of those constraints and bleed into other areas of their lives. For others, it’s a defense mechanism, a way to justify their joy of it while maintaining a carefully crafted outward image of apparent maturity and sophistication. “I may read The Lord of the Rings or watch The Empire Strikes Back on occasion – you know, they’re cute little stories,” said Mr. Bourgeois, sniffing importantly. “But I’d much rather watch this Saturday Night Live clip where celebrities make fun of politicians for the 500th time, than to be caught dead at Comic-Con.”

Here’s why “escapism” – whether used as pejorative or a simple label with no malicious intent – is inaccurate. Fantasy, like any other genre of speculative fiction, does not exist in a vacuum, and to say that indulging in its narratives is a way of somehow escaping or ignoring reality, is to imply that it does. Actually, much like the logo on your t-shirt, the drink in your glass, and the houseplant near your window, there were and always will be demonstrable, material preconditions for all works of fiction, no matter how fantastical. An author's work is the product of a multitude of internal cognitive processes and external influences, all thrown together like so many ingredients in some grand recipe, cooked in a stew of inspiration and wonder, and thrown onto paper to whet the appetites of enthusiastic readers who have just finished destroying the One Ring on Mount Doom and are now looking for their next mental and emotional adventure.

A single fantasy novel was shaped by – and in turn, will also shape – events and fundamental aspects of the real world that you and I live in. No matter how many dragons there are, every spark of every idea comes from the life and world that we actively live in and engage with. To categorize it as somehow different, or in an area all its own where we must only visit fleetingly, and with nervous glances at anyone who we fear might condemn our “unrefined tastes” (re: lack of pretentiousness), is to practice absurdity. Fantasy is owed a high position among the great influential elements of the arts – after all, it was one of the first genres ever written. Ask Odysseus, or Gilgamesh, or Macbeth. Ask God.

Finally, though, it seems that fantasy is getting its due. I can’t put much stock in my personal hope that more people will turn to fantasy literature – or literature in general, but I can attest to the growing dominance of the genre in television and film. Though television itself is an increasingly outdated term – again, in recent years when it comes to popular fantasy, Netflix, Amazon, and the like are on the tip of everyone’s tongues. So why, then, as the genre spirals its way to an epic crescendo of fandom, do just as many people seem to be getting their backs up against the wall about the whole thing? Perhaps it’s because they’ve been trained to turn instead to its polar opposite: Epic reality. Now, perhaps more than ever, we are all slammed with reality – on every smartphone, every computer or tablet screen, and in nearly every conversation.

You can’t open Facebook or YouTube without becoming an unwilling participant in the 24/7 news cycle – stories of the worst aspects of humanity come to fruition flooding your home page. Another mass shooting. More people than ever falling to poverty and homelessness. The pandemic and all the lives it’s claimed. These are all important things – we must stay informed and vigilant, now perhaps more than ever before. But we used to consume our news in an hour, maybe two, per day – staying educated and apprised of the problems and the tragedies by necessity, but not spending six hours a day wringing our hands over every single aspect of every single horrible thing, and then proceeding to argue endlessly with anonymous people online who we’ll never meet about the very things we now live in ceaseless stress and fear over.

How many times do our minds switch off and we scroll, dead-eyed, through the same news feed we just scrolled through, re-reading the same news byte, replaying the same video clip, that we saw five times already? What further knowledge can we gain by plumming every corner of every social media app for every perspective, argument, and/or retelling of every piece of news? Interspersed, of course, with well placed ads for Burrito Blankets and Dill Pickle-Flavored Lip Balm. Conspicuous consumption much? We are seemingly engaged in a constant, neverending stream of Non-Fiction, but the plot is cliché and repetitive, the featured characters are plutocrats and tyrants with whom the reader cannot possibly empathize, and all the death scenes are tasteless, tragic, and far too close to home.

When people want to distance themselves with that, they go and Keep Up with the Kardashians or watch people make really bad 90-day marriage decisions for money. Ah, yes, reality TV. The pinnacle of entertainment. If only Shakespeare had put aside those silly plays and scribed breathtaking narratives about the day-to-day goings on regarding the people in his social circle. What did Bethilda really mean when she made that offhanded remark about Mafalda’s elderberry pie? And will Isaiah find out about Esmerelda’s torrid affair with Nathaniel? Now, if he had written epic reality works like that, he’d really have been on to something. Look, I’m neither condemning these types of shows nor denying people their right to indulge in them as they please. But for this to become one of the hallmarks of our current zeitgeist, in which people commend these shows while in the same breath mocking shows with superheroes or dragons…is it really so much to ask that people reassess their views on fantasy?

I can’t deny that there isn’t some inherent bias on my part. It’s been my life’s goal to write and publish a series of epic fantasy novels, something I’m still working diligently on. In the meanwhile, I’ve probably become “that guy” who’s “always writing that one novel he’s been working on for 15 years.” But slow and steady wins the race. Regardless, I think that if people just give the genre another try (it’s growing and evolving in some amazing directions these days, The Stormlight Archive being one fine example), they might be surprised at what they find. And then – dare I suggest it – perhaps it’s okay to take a little pride in your love for these stories. In these times of social distancing, maybe we can adopt the Vulcan hand salute in place of a handshake? “Live long and prosper” is a phrase anyone can get behind. Or you can continue to keep your copy of A Dance With Dragons beneath your pillow for late night reading. I won’t tell if you won’t.

“Don’t panic!” It’s only panic disorder

Short of breath. Hands unsteady. A rush of sudden fear without explanation. It can happen when I’m sleeping. How often have I woken up at 3 or 4 a.m. with a jolt of panic, the origins of which I cannot place? Between that and the sleep paralysis, going to bed is a dreadful thing for me; I find no peace in my dreams and no security in my mind.

Often, the panic arrives when I’m awake. It can be at any time of day or night. Random sudden movements or noises can set it off. It’s happened in public – cases in which I’m walking down the street, and the beep of a car makes me flinch, arms flailing for a second (just long enough to provide some embarrassment, and once or twice, awkward looks or chuckles from passersby; I’m glad my crippling anxiety can be someone else’s entertainment). A person suddenly emerging from a store entrance can also have this effect. Or a loud clink from construction work. I can’t predict what’s going to cause the panic to emerge. There isn’t really any specific sort of pattern.

But there, at least, there are triggers. It’s more disturbing to me when it happens for no reason at all. I can be happily typing away like I’m doing right now, or watching a movie on my laptop, or folding laundry. And suddenly, like an old and very personal nemesis, it’s back again. I clutch my chest as another panic attack hits, the world swims hazily in front of my eyes like water circling a drain, and for the briefest moment, I know for certain that some kind of horrible impending doom is at hand.

I’ve been diagnosed with panic disorder. I have medication for it, but doctors are hesitant to give out a lot of potentially habit-forming medication, so I have a non-refillable prescription of 30 pills. I’m supposed to space them out, to take them only when I really need them. The problem is, I feel like I need them all the time (but I don’t lean on them much; I’ve still got 26 pills left). Between panic attacks, I’m almost in a constant state of fear and dread, and I don’t know why. Mercifully, there are periods of time where that feeling just goes away. Don’t get me wrong, I can sometimes have weeks and weeks of happiness, and I suppose, a sense of relative calmness (though I rarely feel entirely tranquil).

I never used to be like this. It all began – truly began, from what I can remember – around 2016 or so. I feel like living in a big city is conducive to my panic attacks, and does play a role. Prior to moving to Chicago in 2009, I lived in a town with forests, farms, and mountains, where you’d see a car on the road maybe once every 20 minutes. Transitioning from that to city life has been anything but smooth. It’s comparable to diving into ice water.

Since last year, I feel like whatever it is I’m going through has worsened. I now sometimes feel a sense of removal from myself, as if I’m outside of myself. More than a few times, I’ve sat at my computer and felt a strange sensation, like my spirit was being pushed out of my body; I’ve felt like my “presence” or “essence” was behind my body, by the bed, five feet away from where I was sitting. The first time it happened it scared the shit out of me. I still find it disturbing. I don’t believe I’ve talked about this online until now.

For the past week or so, my mind has felt so overwhelmed from what I’m going through that I haven’t been able to pursue the things I’m passionate about – everything from writing to working on my YouTube channel. I’m trying to get my head back in the game, but it feels like an uphill battle right now.

I just want to feel better. I don’t want to be eating dinner and suddenly drop my fork and jolt upward out of my chair, because my roommate’s dog barked. I don’t want to draw bemused eyes upon me when I’m walking outside, because a sudden police siren made me jump. I don’t want to wake up and feel a random, fatalistic sense of terror, an emotion that seems to have no conceivable reason for even being in my mind. I don’t know why this is happening to me, and every time I fight it, I feel like I get punished for it; the feeling returns, seemingly ten times stronger.

I love life and there’s so much I want to do. I want to see the world. I want to finish my manuscript and possibly see it published someday as a novel. I want to get back to my normal schedule as a YouTuber. I want to meet new people and not mentally debate going outside because there’s an irrational sense of danger in my heart. I just want things to change.

A new traveler's guide to traveling

I’m not exactly a seasoned traveler, but I have been traveling on a semi-frequent basis for the last 8 years. I’ve picked up a few things along the way, and every time I go on a trip, whether it’s to Paris or Prague or New York or New Orleans, I always ask myself why I haven’t written or filmed a little travel guide yet. So I decided it was finally time. This post will be available for everyone to see – followers of this blog and my YouTube channel alike – although Patrons may get a first glimpse.

The tips and tricks that follow are based on my personal experiences and may not be best for everyone. In addition, I offer some advice that I really hope will be of help and guidance to my friends or anyone interested in traveling abroad.

PART 1: Preparations

Pack light
It’s a bit of a stereotype that American travelers always pack everything but the kitchen sink. You can easily spot them in airports and train stations, overburdened with packs on their backs like camels, pulling vast, cumbersome entanglements of luggage. By contrast, most European travelers I’ve seen pack a single bag with a few sets of clothes and the essentials, and that’s enough. It’s a great example to follow. A friend once gave me good advice, which I’ll now pass on here: After you’ve packed, reopen your backpack and review its contents. Take half of it out and leave it behind. Then open up your wallet and double what’s in there.

Bring plug adapters
Most travel websites seem not to cover this issue, which I find perplexing, since I know several people who have encountered this problem. Depending on the country, there are different types of outlets than the ones we use in the U.S. Accordingly, you’ll need to buy an adapter to attach to the plugs of whatever electronic device you want to use. France, the United Kingdom, and Australia, for instance, all use completely different kinds of electrical outlets. Try buying a universal adapter. You can get them on Amazon, and some airlines (like Aer Lingus) carry them as well, so they can be purchased on board your flight.

Book in advance
In my experience, the farther in advance you secure all your tickets and reservations, the better. I’ve heard some people recommend getting plane tickets at least 3 months in advance. I agree, but I’d go as far as to say 5 months in advance, if possible. And there are still good and bad times to do that, depending on tourist season, weather, etc. Train tickets should also be purchased ahead of time (at least, if you want to have a seat; I made this mistake during my train ride from Berlin to Prague and had to stand for the entire trip!). One can even benefit from booking tickets for tourist attractions way beforehand, as I did with the Paris Catacombs.

Be aware of what’s going on
Live and learn, right? I should have done a bit more research regarding the strikes in Paris when I visited in November 2019. I was just barely able to get back home before the airlines – and effectively, the entire city – shut down. Labor strikes are much more common in Europe than in the U.S., so get updated on what’s taking place in the country you’ll be visiting before you go. And it doesn’t only come down to worker demonstrations; you should also ensure your safety when you travel, as several European cities have suffered terror attacks and social unrest in recent years. Don’t live your life in fear by any means! Just be vigilant and understand what’s going on before you make your trip. If you’re visiting Ukraine or Moldova, you need to be aware of the political situation there. It’s better to make an informed decision, than to put yourself in unnecessary danger.

Get your apps in order
I don’t recommend relying upon “smart technology” to the detriment of your own intellect and reasoning. But I do suggest you fill your phone with all sorts of things that will help you while you’re abroad! Both Google Translate and Google Maps are invaluable when you need to translate a sign or menu in a pinch, or stumble back to your hotel after several hours at a bar. Airline apps are very handy for tracking your flight status. Quite a few European cities now have Uber. And other travel-specific apps, like Showaround, can be a huge help in meeting locals and getting a personalized tour of a city! A compass app can also be helpful, and DuoLingo is an excellent tool for learning new languages.

PART 2: Culture

Learn some of the language
I’m not suggesting you devote all your time to becoming fluent in Italian or Czech (though it would be good to learn a second or third language). And it isn’t mandatory to speak another language in every country (in Iceland and Germany, almost everyone under 30 speaks English). But in many countries, people generally appreciate it when you take the time to at least learn a few words and phrases in their language. It shows respect for their culture and a willingness to socialize a little bit on their terms. The only knowledge that can hurt you is the knowledge you don’t have, so there’s no harm in brushing up on a handful of phrases in the language of the country you’ll be visiting.

Don’t get offended
In Paris, people smoke everywhere, especially while they’re having dinner. In Berlin, it’s quite common to see sex shops and brothels. Some cities in Slovakia, like Kosice, don’t really have a “vegan option.” We live in a diverse world with different values and cultures, and that’s a good thing. And yet, I’ve already seen a few U.S. travelers who just can’t tolerate that the place they’re visiting “isn’t like America.” Well...why would it be? So please, take this advice: leave your hypersensitivity at home! What’s different is not bad or wrong, it’s just that – different. And if you only want to live with the values and customs of “America,” then perhaps consider not traveling at all!

When in Rome . . .
. . . well, you know the rest. This is sort of an add-on to the above, but it’s also good advice. Don’t be a loud, obnoxious tourist. Part of embracing and respecting a culture is adapting to it. If the atmosphere on a train is quiet and polite, maybe don’t scream loudly on your cellphone. If someone sees you and says, “Bonsoir,” maybe reply to them and engage with them? Don’t turn your nose up at a new or exotic food, try it. It’s understandable that not every aspect of the country you visit will fall in line with what you’re comfortable with, and that’s okay. But don’t be a complainer. You’ll find that assimilating into the place you’re visiting, and really getting to know the people and their way of life, will be the most rewarding approach you can take. And just maybe, you’ll learn something and grow as a person, too.

PART 3: Safe and smart

Watch your things
Go to Slovakia or Iceland or Sweden and the overall crime rate is much lower than the U.S. You’ll find that in some of these countries, things are relatively safer and less violent (although, of course, the grass is always greener; never let this be an excuse to let your guard down!). And yet, every country is not without its own issues. Pickpocketing in Paris or Rome, for instance, makes New York City look tame by comparison. Keep your passport and wallet in your front pockets, especially when in large crowds or on public transit. Keep a good grip on your phone. So on and so forth. Don’t allow yourself to be robbed of your things due to sheer negligence!

Carefully navigate and avoid scams
There’s the “string men” by the Eiffel Tower and the Sacre Coeur who want to “show you a trick.” Or the taxi driver who pads your fare. Or the cashier who is “speaking on the phone” as you hand her your credit card (but is secretly using her camera to snap a picture of your card number). These scams aren’t everywhere, but they are there, and you need to be aware of them. Planned ignoring and calm disengagement are good ways to diffuse these situations, as well as outright avoidance of areas where you spot these people. Once again, vigilance is always important when traveling anywhere.

Final tips
-        Know the emergency number for whatever country you’re visiting. Like 911 in the U.S., it varies depending on where you are. In France, for instance, it’s 112.

-        Get the address of the local U.S. embassy of the country you’re visiting. If you lose your passport or get into some other kind of trouble, this will be of huge importance.

-        Recognize that most European countries use military time. So for example, 15:00=3:00 p.m.

-        You don’t always need to visit the major tourist cities like Paris or Rome. I plan on seeing Bratislava, Krakow, Bucharest, Reykjavik, Dubrovnik, and Ljubljana someday! Smaller does not mean it isn’t worth seeing!

-        Don’t get your debit/credit card flagged and temporarily blocked for security by your bank; inform them beforehand of the countries you’ll be visiting and the dates you’ll be there!

I hope this little guide has been of some help. I might consider making an additional video in the future, going into greater detail on this for anyone interested. We’ll see what the future brings. Good luck and safe travels!

It’s over 9,000: Powerscaling, the writer’s crutch


upernatural’s Lucifer. The Walking Dead’s Negan. Breaking Bad’s Gus Fring. Game of Thrones’ Joffrey. Heroes’ Sylar. The Flash’s Reverse Flash. Every great story has its evil, menacing, sadistic, worst and most dangerous of all time villain. And if done right, the writing pulls the reader or viewer in, keeping them on the edge of their seat as the protagonist(s) struggle against the waves of chaos and suffering received at the hands of the ultimate nemesis. And then the great enemy is defeated, and that’s the end. Or not. Often, the story goes on... Only, what’s left, now that the big bad has been stopped? Well, get ready, because here comes Ultimate Enemy 2.0! Bigger, badder, stronger, fast – I’ll stop there, you get the point. Powerscaling. Oh, what a slippery slope...

It’s a compelling enough question. Say you have a series you’re writing, and you get to Book Three, and the villain is finally defeated, thus ending a trilogy? You’d like the series to continue, because when it comes to the protagonists, their stories may not be over yet. There’s still more to explore, there’s more to reveal. These character arcs are ongoing. But who will become the new antagonist? You can’t simply bring back that same villain all over again; unless you can somehow do this extremely skillfully (a million to one odds), it would feel incredibly cheap and utterly defeat the point of the previous story. So why not create a newer villain, even stronger and more evil than the last? Okay, sure. But if you went out of your way to demonstrate just how powerful and how horrific and unmatched the last one was, won’t scaling up to an even worse enemy be a bit of a cop out?

I can give you some examples of books and shows that have attempted this very thing, with results decidedly mixed. Game of Thrones. Once Joffrey was dead, they decided to bring in a ‘roided up, even more sadistic version of him in the character of Ramsay. (This isn’t a criticism of the books; George R.R. Martin may go a different route than the show did.) Ramsay made Joffrey look like an angel in comparison, except that Ramsay felt too over the top. His psychotic behavior felt almost comic book-ish at times, like the writers were just trying to hammer into your head, over and over, “Look, see how relentlessly, fiendishly sick he is? We’re trying so hard to show you how much worse than Joffrey he is!”

However, Game of Thrones then rectified things by introducing the Night King, leader of the White Walkers. This was a completely different sort of enemy. Silent, with piercing blue eyes, an eerily calm demeanor. The Night King was a force of nature, something that seemed almost compelled to kill, and did so almost gracefully. There were hints of amused malevolence, but it didn’t feel like we were simply getting a Hulked up version of a previous villain, and that’s why the Night King is a good example of how you can invent another enemy for your characters to face off against – without reinventing the wheel.

Think about it. You put a lot of thought and time into the first antagonist, right? You wanted to make him a unique threat, something that really puts your heroes’ backs up against the wall and challenges them on every level. Now that they have faced those challenges, how would it follow logically that essentially creating a carbon copy of that villain (however “stronger” or more insane it may be), would be any sort of compelling or intriguing choice? What you’d be left with is a story that hits the same beats, a “new” character that treads the same ground as its predecessor. Readers won’t feel any real sense of danger because there’s a vague feeling of “been there, done that.”

If you want to craft a second villain, it has to be threatening in a way that the previous one wasn’t, and that doesn’t always simply mean stronger or “more evil.” The first enemy was all about ultimate power and rage? Okay. So this one can be disturbingly calm and composed, and rather than physically threatening, this enemy’s weapon can be psychological. Maybe he’s good at manipulating our heroes, getting inside their heads, even getting them to act against their better impulses, essentially making them feel forced to do morally ambiguous things in the name of stamping out this evil.

In this character, then, we see a key difference. Where the first was terror inspiring, this one makes you panic for the protagonists in a totally new way. What if one of them loses himself, and in fighting the evil, becomes part of it? A “road to Hell is paved with good intentions” kind of narrative could be great not only in putting a new spin on an enemy, but also making a character confront a part of themelves and grow, furthering their story arc. This is just an example, but it goes to show you, there are different ways you can do something; as we know, insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

Breaking Bad is considered one of the best television series ever made for a reason. The writers knew they would be remiss if they simply followed up Gus’s death by introducing another “big bad.” Instead they turned the story inward, thereby also continuing the story arc and development of Walter and the larger narrative the series as a whole had to tell. After killing Gus, Walter was more and more willing to take lives, acting in ways he never had before and transitioning from “dying family man who had to do terrible things for a good reason” into a criminal mastermind who was arrogantly proud of his own growing reputation. In one of the most brilliant followups to an arch-enemy story ever, the next antagonist after Gus became...the main protagonist himself.

Now, let me just clarify. It isn’t wrong to powerscale, if it works. Azazel was a great and dangerous antagonist in Supernatural, but not so all-powerful that it didn’t feel believable to follow him up with a stronger one. Lucifer was a threat that felt more cosmic, the centerpiece of the literal Apocalypse, where Azazel was more “the monster in the shadows.” So in cases like that, it works. It’s up to you, as the writer, to be aware of your own antagonists’ power, their limits, and what drives them. If your heroes stop a petty criminal in Book One, a terrorist in Book Two, and a master killer who leads a cult of assassins in Book Three, the powerscaling is believable, so it works. But if you spend three novels dealing with the “ultimate threat” to the world, the most powerful enemy anyone has ever faced, don’t follow it up with “oh, wait – this new villain is now the most powerful enemy anyone has ever faced.” And if you do, don’t expect that suspension of disbelief to hold; your readers are going to balk.

There’s a saying that a hero is only as good as the villain, and that’s mostly true. Batman needs the Joker. Harry Potter needs Voldemort. So on and so forth. Put as much thought into the bad guys as the good guys, and you shouldn’t have a problem. But just as with any other character in your story, each antagonist must be unique and believable. And even better – get your readers to empathize against their will with the villain. Because they’re not simply “evil” for no reason. Most well written villains believe they’re doing the right thing in their own minds, and just as with the good guys, they have wants and needs, things that drive them and cause them to engage in wicked behavior. As William Faulkner once said, “The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.” Words to live by – and write by.

Kill 'em all: A writing tip

he fiction writer has the unfortunate task of serving as both creator and destroyer. And it’s always painful to tear down something you’ve built. But don’t fear the reaper, because in many cases, character death is a sacrifice worth making. But what about context? And what about characters who don’t stay dead? The fantasy genre – and especially comic books – constantly suffer from too many resurrections, so let’s tackle this issue first.

Death serves such an important narrative function not only because it often enriches the plot, but also because it creates real emotion and drama, both for the other characters and the reader. It’s the act of taking a character you’re invested in – and ideally empathizing with – and completely ending them. If done right, this can completely shock, enrage, or sadden the reader, and regardless of which emotion it stirs up, it makes the reader feel something, which is the duty of a good story.

George R.R. Martin understands this tool very well, and has demonstrated it time and again in Game of Thrones. And because he kills off many characters, it creates a constant state of tension and apprehension for the reader, who never knows which characters are safe – if any. Game of Thrones, of course, killed off Jon Snow, and then, unlike with every other main character, brought him back from the dead. This leads me to a point: you’re allowed one resurrection, maybe two at most, in your story, before things start to feel cheapened and death loses its significance and emotional impact. But resurrection is not the only way to ruin death as a plot device.

Circling back to comic books, Marvel is releasing the Black Widow movie next year. It’s a prequel, because Black Widow died in Avengers Endgame. Of course, by not resurrecting her, they’re not completely doing a disservice to her final scene, but her return in yet another film, even one set in the past, still takes away from the impact of her death. It’s a loophole; a way to bring back a character that works maybe one time out of a hundred. Marvel has exploited another loophole to bring back the character of Loki – the idea of alternate timelines or a multiverse. This is a common plot device in comic books, but again, the upcoming Loki series on Disney+ will take away from the character’s death scene in Avengers Infinity War. And it feels especially disingenuous after Thanos’ line: “No resurrections this time.”

So use those resurrections sparingly, if at all. Even one of them can place that character in a precarious position afterward, narratively speaking. After Jon Snow returned, any subsequent scenes where it seemed like he would die (again) felt a bit artificial, emotionally speaking, since as the viewer, I kind of felt that the writers were unnecessarily toying with us, because they wouldn’t have brought this character back just to kill him again.

Supernatural is especially guilty of this. Sam and Dean have died and come back so many times that death no longer means anything on the show. In fact, the writers have had to grasp at straws to come up with ways to walk that back, or reinforce the sense of danger in potential death, with mixed results. Concepts like the Empty or absolute death by way of prophecy (“this time you won’t come back!”) almost make you wonder why the writers bother to go there. We all know there’s no chance of ever permanently losing our main characters.

This show also provides a perfect example for my next tip: know when to kill your characters. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen books or shows keep a character around long past their expiration date. Case in point: Castiel is a great character played by a great actor, but Supernatural should have killed him off a long time ago, or returned him to Heaven. Since at least Season 8, he’s served little to no purpose, and shallow plots have been constructed for him to make us feel like his story isn’t merely spinning its wheels. Well, that, and the rabid Supernatural fanbase would riot if Castiel were permanently removed from the show – and that touches upon something I’ll get back to in a few moments.

My point, though, is that I think every writer instinctually feels when a character’s story has reached its natural conclusion. Don’t be afraid to act on that impulse. You or the readers may love a character you’ve created, but by forcing that character to continue to fit into the narrative when it no longer feels organic, you’re doing a disservice to that character and potentially ruining the character’s already established legacy. Castiel used to have the interesting dichotomy of being powerful and threatening, and also unintentionally comedic with his misunderstandings of humans and everyday concepts. Now he’s become so depowered (and I’ll touch upon power scaling in a future blog post) and so humanized that the line between human and angel might as well be removed altogether.

Some characters remain in the story from beginning to end, and if it feels right, go with that. Others become fan favorites and often become so intriguing precisely because of how rarely they appear. Pay attention to how the character serves the greater story and what the character contributes. If the narrative benefits from not overusing that character, don’t try and force that square peg into a round hole. These types of characters are like a spice – add too much and it ruins the taste; add just the right amount and it gives great flavor.

One series that did this well was the science fiction show Fringe. Robert Bell, played by Leonard Nimoy, was one of the most compelling and interesting characters on the show. Fringe ran for 100 episodes. Do you know how many episodes featured Nimoy’s character? Eight. (11 if you count additional voice credits.)

Characters are not always kept around, however, simply because a writer resists the urge to kill them. Sometimes it all boils down to pressure felt from a raging fanbase, who want the writer to do exactly what they want, or out come the pitchforks and the outrage on social media begins. This is a relatively new and modern problem that writers are now facing, and I can tell you this much: changing your story because of what fans are demanding is bad, bad, bad.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t value the input of your readers – sometimes they can alert you to truths or ideas that you weren’t aware of before. But don’t become so beholden to your readers’ opinions that you let them dictate what happens to your characters. The consumer of the writing doesn’t have the right to have a say in what happens. You’re the writer. If they were so good at knowing what was best for your story, they’d be writers too. Fans who act this way are like the backseat drivers of the writing world. To paraphrase Dean Winchester, “Driver writes the story. Shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

Unfortunately, so many stories have given into this pressure, with unpleasant – often disastrous – results. Look at Arrow. Fans started shipping Oliver and Felicity, when the chemistry between Oliver and Laurel felt much more natural. Both Oliver and Felicity are great characters in their own ways, but when the writers started to force them into a relationship to appease the fans, not only did it negatively impact Laurel’s story, shunting the character to the side after being so central in Seasons One and Two...It also felt extremely contrived, with even the characters’ dialogue exchanges feeling awkward and cumbersome.

We can see plenty of other examples, in The Walking Dead (“If Daryl Dies, We Riot”), Harry Potter (come on, it’s obvious fan favorites like Hagrid and Hermione were purposely kept alive), and even Game of Thrones (in the final season, everything felt much too safe – it’s unbelievable that Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Tyrion would all just happen to make it to the end). Again, I think this is a new problem. Writers are afraid of being crucified by the fanbase if they step out of line, and it shouldn’t be that way. So never be afraid to give a character the axe if you feel it’s necessary.

Whether they’d like to admit it or not, most readers are more interested in tragedies than happy endings, and that is one of many reasons why death is a good tool to have at your disposal. Walter had to die at the end of Breaking Bad. It couldn’t have been any other way, and if it had, the entire series would have been an exercise in narrative redundancy, so many of its motifs rendered hypocritically pointless. Ragnar’s death in Vikings was horrible and hard to watch – and perfect; it felt like the right time for his character arc to come to a permanent end, and it opened up unforeseen pathways for viewers, who for the first time in a while, truly didn’t know what to expect from the rest of the series.

And finally, here’s something that I believe writers today aren’t understanding: the outraged reactions of fans when you kill off a character they love is not a problem; it’s not something that you have a responsibility to “correct” or address. That emotional response is exactly what you want. It means you’re doing your job right. If a reader becomes so enraged or upset at a character’s death that they chuck the book at a wall and scream profanities about you, it means they were invested enough in your story that they cared so much about these characters, that it almost feels to them as if they’ve lost a real person. That means it’s damn good writing, and beyond that, it means that even if you’ve written the coda on a particular character, that character left behind a great legacy.

In the real world, it’s only the good people who are missed. The people who were loved by many. And so it is with the characters you create. If a character dies and the response is a collective “meh,” you’re failing to provoke an emotional response, probably because you’ve failed to construct a compelling character. Kill your darlings. After the anger and the denial and the tears, the fans who truly “get it” will look back on it later and understand why it had to happen. Killing characters is just part of the job. In the words of Michael Corleone, “It’s not personal. It’s strictly business.”

Lacuna Coil's "Black Anima" is a spark for the artistic soul

As Lacuna Coil is my favorite band and has had an incredibly positive impact on my life, one would think that in my review of their music, some inherent bias might crop up – and perhaps that will happen. On the other hand, I’m also not afraid to be critical and honest, even though I’d love to blindly heap mountains of praise on everything these wonderful people do.

The truth is, I feel that in return for how Lacuna Coil has moved and inspired me, I have a responsibility as both fan and reviewer to be balanced and just when it comes to discussing how I feel about their various work. 

Firstly, I can confidently say that I love every album that this band has ever recorded (that’s not hyperbole, it’s genuine honesty and I won’t mince words about it). It’s just that there are some I love a bit more or less than others, which is bound to happen no matter how each individual record affects you.

That being said, when Delirium dropped in 2016, after the initial euphoria over the new material faded, I was able to admit that it was my least favorite record out of their discography. Again, I genuinely loved and enjoyed it in its own right, but if I had to compare it with its predecessors, I’d put it last. I as a listener felt that as exciting and refreshing as the injection of heaviness into their music was, there was some small thing missing that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Enter Black Anima. The same immediate excitement kicked in (I am a loyal Coiler, after all). Only this time, when that leveled out and I was able to gather my thoughts and feelings, and reflect on this new album in a measured and reasonable way, I found my opinion to be very, very different.

The album begins with “Anima Nera,” which could have been an instrumental intro – and might have felt a little by-the-numbers if it had been. But in typical Lacuna Coil fashion, the band decided to give it a twist. So, had they merely added a small vocal part to this song, it would have been welcome, but expected. Instead, what Cristina did with her voice had me surprised and engaged from the very beginning, and this was the first hint that this wouldn’t merely be another new record by this band – this would be an example of the entire band pushing themselves to reach new heights and achieve great things.

Cristina accomplished that in spades, and the opening track may represent that best of all. It has her using a much smaller voice, almost child-like, which is thrown into sharp contrast against a backdrop of electronic-tinged, vaguely gothic atmosphere, with piano that is at once both haunting and exciting. A true union of opposites, her voice combined with the music means we’re off to a very intriguing start. That contrast, by the way, further plays into the meaning and themes on the album, but more on that later.

Track two, “Sword of Anger,” proves track one to have been a prelude of sorts; as Andrea belts out in ferocious declaration, “We are the anima!,” this feels like the true beginning. From there, the guitar work (much more impressive here than on the prior album), combined with the relentless exchange of beauty and beast vocals, make for a wildly energized and headbang-able song. The catchy chorus is a highlight, and it really feels like Cristina is singing with especially proficient finesse and control over her voice, yet she makes it sound so casual and effortless. This is the exact sort of song that should be played at future shows.
One would be mistaken if they thought track three, “Reckless,” would have a similar style and structure – it has a completely different vibe, and confirms that each song on this album will have its own unique energy and sound to set it apart. Often, especially with new albums, there will be one or two standout tracks, while the rest have a general sense of similarity (even if they happen to sound good). But “Reckless” shakes things up and once again has Cristina take her voice to challenging and unexpected places.

As she sings, “let’s wreck it down, let’s be wild and get reckless,” she achieves a mix of siren-like beauty with attitude-edged urgency. Everything from the melody to the cadence of her voice is on point here, letting choice pauses hang between words (“keep the madness...endless”) for dramatic effect. It’s amazing, and it works. Andrea’s monstrous growls linger and creep beneath the surface, adding spots of additional power and heaviness where needed, but the next song is where he really shines.

“Layers of Time” blasts right out of the gate, this time with Andrea’s harshes driving the song, and the chuggy rhythm forcing you to bang your head before you’re aware of what’s happening! The guitarwork has a – dare I say it – djent-reminiscent sound that carries the song. If it were any other band, this would have made things feel like a simple continuation of what some other popular bands are doing right now, but this is Lacuna Coil, and Cristina belts out the chorus like only she can; that, along with the subtle but present gothic melody (more pronounced toward the end), make for a thrilling listen. However, it’s Andrea who really excels with his growls on this one – but even there, the best is yet to come.

This next one is my personal favorite, and circling back to what I said before, “Apocalypse” reminded me of what I felt that Delirium had been missing – a strong sense of heart; raw emotion. (Again, there are exceptions on that album – “Downfall” being an excellent example.) A typical setup (Cristina and Andrea trading vocals) and a verse-chorus-verse structure can’t stop this song from being absolutely phenomenal. When Cristina sings “we start a revolution...we celebrate your lies,” the beauty and the sheer power of that chorus sounds so good that I occasionally wonder why this hasn’t become a single (yet). Just when I felt that this song needed one more ingredient to become truly memorable, in comes a guitar solo that brings an epic sense of closure to this unexpectedly moving song. This is it; this is the point at which this album moves from being great to becoming a serious contender for the best work Lacuna Coil have ever done.

Remember when I said that each song on this album sets itself apart from the others? “Now or Never” falls right in line with that notion, beginning with a somber intro that evokes a vaguely old-time feeling spliced with an underlying creepiness. That transitions seemlessly into the catchy heaviness I’ve come to expect, but on this song in particular, both Cristina and Andrea continue to take their vocals to surprising places.

For Andy’s part, he delivers his lines with a fast-paced cadence, a sort of rap-scream that I’ve only heard him utilize once before – on Delirium’s “Blood, Tears, Dust” (another high point for that album). It sounds fantastic, and at the end of the verse, his growls descend into an almost rasping, shrieking style that I’ve never quite heard him use before. While he finds and unleashes the beast within, Cristina seriously challenges that power, this time going not for beauty, but for a fierce yell: “Through the turmoil, hold the flame, there’s no mercy for the innocent!” The pitch and energy in her voice is astonishing here, and reveals her to be a more impressive and versatile vocalist than even I could have imagined.

The beginning of “Under the Surface” serves as a nice counterpart to the previous track’s intro, giving the listener a brief spurt of electronic influence before delving back into the rough-beautiful vocal dichotomy that the band does best. Here the vocals are more typical, as well as the general structure of the song, but that’s not a bad thing – as Cristina pipes, “Everything feels perfect when you’re spinning lies,” I begin to realize that this album has some of the catchiest choruses Lacuna Coil has done in at least three albums. How this amazing woman continues to find fresh and deeply riveting ways to serenade the listener is something to be commended. The one little nitpick I have with this song is that it seems to have a bit of a tinny sound to it; there’s a certain pitch to the music that feels off, but maybe that’s just me.

“Veneficium” is the longest song on the record, and the Latin chant at the beginning – more atypical voice work that sounds brilliant – tells me that this one is going to be a journey. I was craving a song like this, and this one becomes an essential must-listen. The album as a whole would have felt incomplete without it, which tells me the band knew exactly what this record needed: every song feels earned and seems like the logical next step in the greater musical story Lacuna Coil are telling. This is easily also one of the most gothic and darkly beautiful tracks, strangely harkening back to the earlier days of the band while simultaneously pushing them into new territory. Here, Cristina and Andrea stick to their tried and true vocal styles, which is not a criticism. When Cristina sings “but it’s all in vain,” her voice sends shockwaves of emotion over me. After “Apocalypse,” this is the second song that gives me actual chills.

For me, “The End is All I Can See” is the weakest track on the record – and also a genuinely great song in its own way, which reinforces my sense of awe about Black Anima – on any other Lacuna Coil album, this would have been among the standout tracks; here, it’s simply overpowered by other even more brilliant songs. Make no mistake, though: this is no song to skip over. It’s probably the most electronic-driven, and has a sense of buildup that almost feels as though it isn’t going to pay off – until the polished, crystalline cadence of Cristina’s voice brings it all to a beautifully epic crescendo.

Next comes a song that seriously challenges “Apocalypse” as my personal favorite song on Black Anima. “Save Me” is a raw, unfiltered exposition of emotional vulnerability that I have never seen from this band before. The drumming and guitar also stand out on this one; the chorus could not have been so well delivered without those beats and power chords wrapped around it. Another of Lacuna Coil’s talents is tricking the listener’s ear by using heavy instrumentals to deliver disarmingly gripping emotion, and this song does that in a way that is incomparable to any song the band has done in their entire career before.

This is a heart-wrenching and eye-opening masterpiece that will probably be overlooked by some listeners as a simple ballad, but the Coilers who crave emotive songs from their favorite band will understand. Cristina may use her vocals in amazing ways on the other tracks, but this is the one where it really counts. She opened her soul on this one, pouring all her sadness and pain into this musical reservoir, and it washed my heart with poignant empathy. This was the point at which I understood that I was hearing some of the best music I will ever hear in this lifetime.

All great things must come to an end, and so it is with the closing title track. “Black Anima” is far from the strongest song on this record, but serves as a steady and driven dark counterbalance to the prior track. This one was definitely a grower for me – it took two or three listens. When I finally felt that I “got it,” though, my respect for this song increased, and I found it to be an exceptional choice for this album’s ending. It really does have a “credits rolling” kind of feeling to it – perhaps it’s the urgent intonation of Cristina’s vocals, or the slow but steady drumming, but something here brings a sense and feeling of conclusion, and while, again, not being a track that moved me quite as much as many others on this record, it serves as a fitting and necessary coda on this unforgettable musical journey.

Black Anima, all songs considered, is all about balance for me; that halfway mark between light and darkness, and I feel that the clever and (eventually) iconic artwork on the album cover represents that wonderfully: the angel, with sword in hand, resisting and fighting the dragon even as it tries to consume him. If that isn’t an apt metaphor for the dark emotional place some of these band members were in when they recorded this, I don’t know what is.

It also underscores what I feel is the sentiment of this album as a whole, reiterated where needed in particular songs: the darkness that we go through, that sometimes threatens to swallow us whole, is a part of life and who we are, so strike the balance. Don’t be afraid to dwell in the shadows. Own that darkness and it can’t be used against you, and never stop fighting.

I can say it now: this is the best album Lacuna Coil have done in their entire career. And over two and a half decades after they started, that’s no easy thing to achieve, but they’ve done it. This is also one of the most important albums of 2019. At a time when so many people are dealing with depression or despair, this song might as well be an emotional black bible for the modern era. This one has everything: pain, sadness, anger, joy, hope – and none of it would mean anything if the music and the breathtaking vocals didn’t drive it into our hearts, but it does. Whatever you do, don’t skip this one. It is a must-have album, and this is a true piece of art, so you simply must purchase the physical version; merely streaming its digital counterpart would be a disservice to what these artists have done. This is something that needs to be held and looked at and thought about, something you should cherish as an invaluable part of your music collection.

This is the album that will come to define this band, and I struggle to believe that Lacuna Coil could ever make another album that could top this one – and yet, somehow, I think Cristina would probably smile and say, “challenge accepted.”