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Whats up and welcome to Humans of Libraryland, the weblog collection the place you possibly can study concerning the individuals who work in your public library.

This can be a particular version of the collection to have fun the première of KCLS’s first ever podcast, which will function studying options, writer interviews, and far more. So let’s spend a while attending to know the hosts of The Desk Set, Emily Calkins and Brittany Barrett from On-line Library Providers on the Service Middle!


HoL: What podcasts do you take heed to?

BB: I take heed to Name Your Girlfriend each week for a enjoyable, feminist tackle politics and popular culture. I’m additionally an enormous fan of 99% Invisible, which focuses on design and the constructed surroundings. As a social media supervisor, I actually respect Reply All, a present that describes itself as a “podcast about the internet.” There’s one thing very interesting about serialized fiction like Tanis and The Black Tapes too, particularly as somebody who grew up loving The X Files and Eerie, Indiana.
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If television is to be believed, the temperate rainforests and rocky seashores of America’s Pacific Northwest are filled with time travelers, mad scientists, vampires, witches, werewolves, more time travelers, shape-shifting lady seamonsters, fairytale monsters passing as human, fairytale hunters passing as law enforcement, actual fae passing as both, still more time travelers, zombies, huckster cryptids, real cryptids, belly-buttonless alien-clone-mystery boys, even more time travelers, multiple Bigfeet, and at least two Kyles MacLachlan.

And it’s not just traditional television that’s pushing this regionally specific (sur)reality: Boasting the tagline Only Slightly Exaggerated, the Miyazaki-inflected Travel Oregon ad published to YouTube virality in March of this year goes so far as to suggest that the Beaver State is teeming with cloud-sized rabbits, whale-filled clouds, and smiling caterpillars riding their fixies all over the verdant mountainous wilds surrounding the city hipsters go to retire.

Of course, barring the many Kyles MacLachlan flitting around the country’s every burg, (probably) none of these spooky, supernatural things are real. The Pacific Northwest, however, is. And something about it, some intrinsic part of its green, rainy soul, has attracted such a great magnitude of American television’s sci-fi, fantasy, and supernatural storytellers over the last few decades that the identity of speculative fiction has become as firmly tied to the moody, lichen-swathed forests of the Pacific Northwest as noir got tied to the hot, neon-soaked streets of Los Angeles in the 1940s.

The trend started out slow, with Twin Peaks (Washington) and Harry and the Hendersons (Washington) premiering in 1990 and 1991, respectively, but started picking up steam after Dead Like Me (Seattle) and The 4400 (Washington) got in the game in 2003 and 2004, with Kyle XY (Seattle) and Eureka (Oregon) premiering in 2006, The Secret Circle (Washington) and Grimm (Portland) in 2011, Continuum (Vancouver, BC) and Gravity Falls (Oregon) in 2012, iZombie (Seattle on television/Eugene, OR in the original graphic novels) in 2015, Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency (Seattle) and Travelers (unclear, but somewhere near Olympia/Seattle/Portland) in 2016, and both Siren (Washington) and The Crossing (Coastal Oregon and Seattle) this spring. Rick and Morty, recently renewed for [checks notes] one billion more seasons, (apocryphally) takes the Seattle exurbs as its rare Earth-based setting.

So, sure, a terrestrial sci-fi/fantasy/horror/monster show could be set anywhere across the continent—The Originals and True Blood have made stellar use of Louisiana’s inherent spookiness, while Wynonna Earp and Warehouse 13 find barren mysticism in the high desert plains, and The Vampire Diaries and Falling Skies mine the bleak colonial magic of Virginia and New England—but based on sheer volume alone, it’s increasingly those sweet, sweet coastal range breezes that keep sounding their siren song. Even the short-lived MTV/Spike adaptation of The Shannara Chronicles (2016-2017), full as it was with elves and orcs and magic trees and in zero evident need of ties to a recognizable contemporary setting, was set in a post-apocalyptic Pacific Northwest several millennia in the future.

So what is it, exactly, about the Pacific Northwest that has put it in such a genre-defining position?

The most prosaic answer is that Vancouver (British Columbia) is such a booming industry town—at the time of publication, there are 19 movies and television series filming in Vancouver; 62 have wrapped since 2018 began—that it makes as much sense to force a series’ setting to match Vancouver-like locations as not. But the PNW setting isn’t limited to live-action series, and the majority of the projects filming in Vancouver, spec-fic or otherwise, aren’t set in the PNW, so there must be other factors at work. Which means [adjusts Dipper Pines conspiracy hat] it’s time for some theories.

Theory 1: Go West, Young Man

California has the earned reputation as the romanticized ideal at the far end of the myth of the American West (in which, according to scholar Richard Slotkin, America is seen as “a wide-open land of unlimited opportunity for the strong, ambitious, self-reliant individual to thrust his way to the top”) but the formative computer game of 1990s kids’ youths wasn’t called The California Trail: it was called The Oregon Trail. Oregon—and by geographic extension, Washington and Vancouver—was as wide-open and promising a frontier for pioneers and 19th-century mythmakers as was California, just with a topography shrouded in dense mossed forests and rain rather than blessed by sun and friendly, endless surf.

That is, the Pacific Northwest contains all the possibility of self-reinvention and the discovery of untold riches that California does, just framed by a mist and mystery that takes what in California becomes bustling creative, industrial, and technological output and instead twists it into a proliferation of supernatural poppycock.

Enter, the disorientingly surreal possibility barely contained in Twin Peaks’ borders. Enter, the surreally familiar possibility bursting from Gravity Falls’ seams.

“Everything in the Mystery Shack is some form of smoke and mirrors and general hokum,” Gravity Falls creator Alex Hirsch told The Oregonian in 2012. “It’s a boring day job and serves as a point of ironic contrast to the fact that the real magic and mystery is all outside in the woods.”

Theory 2: KeepItWeird

Stuck between the Cascades and the Pacific, Oregon and Washington’s cultural capitals—Eugene, Salem, Portland, Tacoma, Seattle—have developed aggressively quirky personalities. Eugene is where hippies go to die. Portland is where young people go to retire (Portlandia is basically a documentary). Seattle is notoriously proud of its counterculture history, despite being a contemporary corporate mecca. If there was ever going to be a region of the country that demanded co-identification with the supernatural weirdos of the world, that would so readily accept a secret DOD-funded town housing the world’s maddest mad scientists, or a holistic detective agency run by a British weirdo in a bright yellow leather jacket, or a major city being overrun by non-feral zombies and taken over by a zombie-led black ops organization and policed by a zombie-staffed police force whose resident zombies eat murder victims’ brains and overdramatically take on the biggest parts of their personalities, costumes and accents and all, it would be the PNW.

New Seattle: the most believable thing currently happening on iZombie.

Theory 3: A Land of Opposites

While the PNW shows that have taken over genre television in the past decade mostly keep to the bigger foothills cities, there are enough that are set on the coast or in the wilderness that it’s clear that the inherent oppositeness of the region is a major factor in its genre-defining role. Mountains and ocean, high plains and dense forests, the rural and the metropolitan, the super progressive and the super conservative—all of these things exist in the Pacific Northwest (with both hopeful and infuriatingly shameful consequences), and the natural tensions those opposites create in reality are reflected in the supernatural tensions that speculative fic stories aim to illuminate.

While it had plenty of storytelling flaws, it was this tension that made NBC’s Grimm such a compelling series, taking those opposites native to the PNW region and framing them with all the violence, moral grayness, and conflicting identity issues inherent to fairy tales. Portland doesn’t actually have wesin “others” living among its human citizens in all those great (real!) Portland craftsman homes, but in a state so historically, shamefully, violently exclusive with such passionately progressive modern politics, it definitely could. The same goes for all the many time travel series that land (literally) in the PNW: For all the region feels like it’s on the socio-cultural vanguard, it has some real out-of-time conservatism.

Theory 4: Spook-Adjacent Dreariness

At the end of it all, though, is just the utter spookiness of seemingly eternal clouds and rain. That’s nothing to sneeze at! Seattle has upwards of 160 days of rain per year. Portland and Eugene (full disclosure: home of an alma mater) are nearly as dreary. This makes for an explosion of verdant vibrancy in the summers, but the rest of the year…

Well, let’s just say a pod of rat-chomping fish-girls coming ashore to steal Huskies’ sweatshirts off clotheslines and terrorize the local population doesn’t sound impossible.

While most of these series repping the PNW have been relegated to television history by now (including, most recently, The Crossing), Siren, iZombie, and Travelers are all still with us, and if the snowballing of the trend continues, they’ll just be joined by more down the road. And while I certainly wouldn’t want all speculative fiction to go the way of the Bigfoot, I definitely look forward to watching it continue to grow and KeepItWeird with the evolving PNW identity.

Siren airs Thursdays at 8 p.m. on Freeform. iZombie airs Mondays at 9 p.m. on The CW. Travelers is now streaming on Netflix.
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The end is near. But for those of us who listen to The Black Tapes, we’ve known that for a while.

Created and written by Paul Bae and Terry Miles and launched in May of 2015, The Black Tapes is a docudrama hosted by Alex Reagan, a public radio journalist for Pacific Northwest Stories, and follows her as she investigates the mysterious Strand Institute and its more mysterious founder, Dr. Richard Strand. Over the course of the first two seasons, things go from creepy to downright apocalyptic.

The podcast quickly went from a spooky serial to igniting a small pod empire, leading to sister podcasts Tanis and Rabbits, both written by Terry Miles. A television version of Tanis has been announced and will be produced by Sam Raimi and Debbie Liebling’s POD 3 along with Dark Horse. Bae has his own solo project launching around Halloween of this year, and the two have other projects together and apart. “We have lots of stories to tell,” Miles says.

Today, the premiere episode was released for the third and final season of The Black Tapes, the podcast that started it all. I talked to the writers and creators about the end of the show -- and the end of the world as we know it.

What is the writing process like?

Paul Bae: It’s a switch-off. We do it half and half. It’s like a feedback loop; we’ll feed it to each other and go off what the other wrote, especially for Alex’s narration.

Because the other shows, Terry, you write those yourself?

Terry Miles: Yeah.

How’s that experience different?

TM: It takes longer. (laughs) I don’t have Paul’s genius to lean upon. I go back and forth with myself.

How much input do the actors have in their characters?

TM: Well, accepting the fact …

Yeah, I kind of wondered if we’d talk about that at all, since you’re both pretty adamant about the show being “real.”

TM: Yeah ... If they were actors -- which they are not -- they would stick to the script.

This is really a reality prison you’ve built yourselves.

TM: Yes. Definitely. But it’s fun.

Well, you guys are so good at the social media aspect, where it does feel like these are all real people. Was that important to you, or did that come organically?

TM: It was important. I didn’t grow up with radio dramas. The affection is there, but not necessarily the enjoyment. If it didn’t have hinged-upon-reality element to it, I probably wouldn’t be that interested.

What were some of the influences -- for the story in general, but also the universe you’ve created around it?

PB: We talked about War of the Worlds quite a bit, about what the impact would have been at the time, and how immersive storytelling is a thing we’re both really into. The world of podcasting is another way in; it’s so intimate. Someone’s in your ear. It feels more direct and intimate than, say, watching something on a screen. That’s what it felt like when we started this, so we thought we should capitalize on that intimacy.

TM: In regards to the shared world of characters [between The Black Tapes and his other shows, Tanis and Rabbits], a big influence on me was Michael Moorcock and Elric and Eternal Champion series of books, because the characters in those books crossed over into the other series and it was just so exciting as a kid. It was like, “Holy shit. No way. This character is in this novel all of the sudden?” It was so thrilling.

Has that been a challenge to figure out how much interaction there would be between the characters and how much crossover there would be? Because there’s no Black Tapes and Rabbits crossover, but Tanis exists in both worlds.

TM: It becomes more complicated when you look at moving the podcast into other media. That’s the short answer. Initially, you think “All things combined!” and it’s going to be one amazing universe, and then it becomes, “Well, Paul and I are doing this podcast, and I’m doing these podcasts, and someone else wants to turn this into this,” and it becomes more challenging.

Getting into the story itself, how much was outlined off the bat? Was Season 1 its own distinct thing, or did you know pretty much how things were going to go over the course of all three seasons?

PB: I think of myself as the psychic there. We saw the end coming. We had to write all of Alex’s intros first, so we had a good idea of where it was headed. That way we could just allow the story to unfold.

TM: And there were definite surprises along the way. We really leave ourselves room to let the characters and events drive our recording of them, so to speak. There are all kinds of large tentpoles that were surprising.

PB: When you kind of allow the characters to do what comes naturally, we were sort of surprised. We surprised ourselves bringing some characters back, like Dabic and Simon.

Did you have Strand’s journey mapped out, like how his childhood would play in?

PB: As producers there’s always things you hoped would happen, but sometimes a character, just the way they are, it takes a direction you didn’t expect, and it’s always a pleasant surprise when that happens.

TM: Strand and his family remain enigmatic to us to some degree. I mean, there’s a limitless podcast there about the Strand family. The Strand Family Radio Hour.

It seems like with podcasts specifically, because since there’s not a canonical look for a character, people feel more empowered to decide what a character looks like or “off-camera” headcanons, the same with books.

PB: I just read that word "headcanon" for the first time about a month ago. I like it. I find it fascinating. I’m kind of honored people would spend their time doing this, spend a chunk of their day expanding our world, this world we’ve immersed ourselves in. I’ve read some of it, and a lot of it’s quite good.

TM: Yeah, it’s quite impressive. It’s hard to go down that path and not spend six hours looking at fan art.

PB: Oh my God, the fan art is amazing.

TM: I feel like I have to set aside a day because you get lost so deeply.

Anything you can tell me about this final season?

PB: It’s gonna satisfy a lot of people in some ways, and it’s gonna piss off a lot of people in some ways.

Is the world going to end? Are we all gonna die?

PB: *laughs* I can’t answer that.

TM: I mean, eventually yes.

Was there any conversation about continuing it, or did you know you were done?

PB: We knew this story would have to close here, right now, at this moment.

Was there a reason for that? Did it feel right narratively, or are you both just so busy?

PB: There are a lot of factors. It’s hard to talk about. When you get to the end, it will become self-explanatory.

TM: It’s not that other projects are taking away from Black Tapes, contrary to what we’ve heard on Twitter.

PB: That’s not the reason.

TM: We could continue, but it feels like this is where the story ends. For now, at least.


Yeah mate, we know you could continue. You could probably squeeze another two seasons just by fucking pausing for hours between each sentence like you do on Tanis. Pfft.
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Like a lot of people, I’m something of a walking, talking contradiction.

On the one hand, I’m just a big chicken. My gut reaction to hearing a strange noise downstairs in the middle of the night is to pull the blankets a little tighter around me and hope it stops on its own. My rational mind knows that cotton sheets and a comforter — regardless of how high the thread count is, and I like ’em fancy — provide no protection whatsoever from the things that go bump in the night. But the part of my brain that never fails to trigger the heebie-jeebies when I go down into an unfinished basement always beats Rational Andi to the punch, forcing the level-headed adult in me to fight her way to the surface. After a moment or two, I put on my mental big-girl pants and go downstairs to investigate, only to discover something completely innocuous, for example that I’d accidentally hit the four-hour delay button on the dishwasher when I cleaned the kitchen after dinner.

On the other hand, despite knowing myself well enough to know that I have a predisposition to nervous Nellie-dom, I just can’t resist a good, old-fashioned scary story. There’s just something irresistible about that chill that goes up my spine when I catch a proper case of the creeps. I watch horror movies through splayed fingers, knowing that I’m going to take a good hard look in the backseat before I get in the car to go home from the theater. But the thought of seeing the latest video game movie instead never crosses my mind. Over the years, I’ve read a sizable chunk of Steven King’s novels, even if that meant I needed to keep my feet tucked up under me on the couch in order to maintain enough nerve to keep turning the pages. I know I’ve struck gold when the goose bumps show up.

Marilyn Monroe once said, “Fear is stupid and so are regrets.” I think she was on to something with that one. When it comes to entertainment at least, I’d rather risk a sleepless night or two than miss out on something truly remarkable.

Recently I’ve discovered a podcast that scratches that illogical itch to scare the ever-loving crap out of myself.

The Black Tapes podcast is available for download for free on iTunes or at www.theblacktapespodcast.com.

“The Black Tapes” asks its listeners a loaded question: Do you believe?

The podcast is the serialized story of intrepid reporter Alex Reagan, who begins working on a story about paranormal investigators but soon finds herself far more interested in one of her interview subjects, Dr. Richard Strand, a famous, and to some infamous, skeptic.

Strand is the founder of The Strand Institute, devoted to debunking any and all claims of paranormal activity. He is so certain that there are no such things as ghosts and demons and the like that he’s offering a $1 million prize to anyone who can provide indisputable evidence of paranormal activity. Unsurprisingly, since Strand is the one who gets to define what constitutes indisputable evidence, that prize has yet to be claimed.

While interviewing Strand, Reagan notices a collection of VHS tapes in black cases, giving the podcast its name and Reagan’s story a new focus. According to Strand, the black tapes are cases that haven’t been debunked, but only because the technology to do so hasn’t been invented yet. To his way of thinking, it’s not a question of if the events on the tapes will be proven false but, rather, a question of when. Through the two seasons currently available, the mystery around Strand and his family deepens and Reagan makes the mistake all reporters are warned about — she becomes part of her own story.

Throughout the episodes, “The Black Tapes” explore everything from demonic possession to urban legends to mysterious disappearances and mental patients who seem to possess the ability to be in two places at once. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’ll avoid spoilers here, but let’s just say that when it comes to “The Black Tapes,” few things are as they seem.

Many listeners may spend some time trying to determine if “The Black Tapes” is fiction or legitimate reporting. The show, which bills itself as a “docudrama” on its website, is meticulously produced in the style of “Serial,” with Reagan not only interviewing witnesses, officials and the occasional psychic, but also discussing, and sometimes arguing about, her reporting process with Nick, her producer. I admit to wondering about the show’s authenticity myself during the first few episodes. I was pretty sure it was the modern equivalent of old-time radio plays, but I avoided turning to the internet to verify that belief until I decided to write this column, because I decided it just didn’t matter. A good story is a good story and I was along for the ride regardless. But maybe it’s best to wait until the sun comes up to hit play.

I’m a few episodes shy of finishing the show’s second season, and I can’t honestly say if I’m any closer to answering the question of whether or not I believe in the paranormal. But one thing I’m positive about is that when Season 3 begins I’m going to be pondering that question some more.

“The Black Tapes” is available for download for free on iTunes or at www.theblacktapespodcast.com.

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