Collected Miscellany

In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t always agree with the political sentiments of my fellow lit bloggers (if I may be so bold as to include myself in their company). But one of the best things about book blogging in my mind is that it is possible to get beyond politics and find common ground. I have recently found this to be true.

Seeing the general positive feedback from bloggers I picked up The Confessions of Max Tivoli by Andrew Sean Greer (see Ed’s January Magazine review here, Mark’s excellent intereview with the author here, and the Bookslut review here). I value the opinions of these bloggers more than I do the Today Show Book Club and they didn’t let me down. The Confessions of Max Tivoli is a thoroughly enjoyable work of imagination and literary talent. I highly recommend it.

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Writers are readers first. That shouldn’t be a surprise. Some writers avoid reading in their genre while working on a manuscript. Then there’s a catch up period where writers devour many books and do their best to maintain annual book consumption.

I fall into a subgroup that consists of authors who write book length fiction, but are not as yet published. People like me are intensely interested in every hiccup and crosswind the publishing world produces. We read everything.

Since I review books, consider this a disclosure. There is no canon or editorial stance to defend. Views expressed may be unpredictable. Like when the pilot announces the turbulence we’re experiencing is entirely normal, but doesn’t clatify that it’s only normal for a hot air balloon.

When I say Denise Mina is a great writer or Steve Hamilton is terrific, I don’t couch it in qualifying language. The qualifier is implicit; it’s my opinion.

My goal is to review books by authors who don’t get the full court press from the publisher’s promotional budgets. Simon Kernick, Kevin Wignall, John Shannon, who wrote TERMINAL ISLAND, or Bill Moody who has a jazz motif in his series may be better examples. I loved MOTHERLESS BROOKLYN, but you already know Lethem. This is not a perfect system. I’ve got novels by Ian Rankin and David Baldacci on the way.

Often reviews are a matter of timing. Publishers release books like THE WAKE UP by Robert Ferrigno, and it takes a few weeks to get organized, read the novel and write something about it.

Bouchercon is coming in October and I’m looking at the list of nominees for the various prizes awarded there. SJ Rozan has a standalone coming out; her novel WINTER AND NIGHT was superb. Okay, so I’m two years behind the curve on that one. I’ll take a whack at some of the novels nominated over the next couple of months.

Feel the wind in your face. This is a balloon. The turbulence you may experience is entirely normal. We take off and land whenever the mood strikes. That’s where the fun is.

I have always been interested in what might be called the intellectual history of American Foreign Policy. In fact this is a good description of what my Masters thesis entailed; even if it only a discussed a small but important slice of that history. I quite regularly dip into books on foreign policy and, given the times in which we live, I have been focusing on this area more deeply of late. And in this vein, it is often helpful to check out what the respected “establishment” writers and thinkers are saying. Toward this end I have recently read works by John Lewis Gaddis and Walter Mead (remind me to post something on these two interesting works later). Around the same time I had picked up Warrior Politics: Why Leadership Demands a Pagan Ethos by Robert Kaplan thinking that it would be worth reading in this same line. Having received a review copy of Defending Human Dignity: John Paul II and Political Realism by Derek S. Jeffreys (about which more later), I thought now would be a good time to read Kaplan. After all Jeffreys would seem to be positing an alternative of sorts to the type of thinking Kaplan is lauding.

Enough of my motivations, I hear you asking, what about the book? Well, despite it being an easy read and one that touches on some interesting ideas, I was not impressed. It is a decent introduction to what you might call the realpolitik or classic realist view of foreign policy thinking via classic philosophers from Sun-Tzu, Machiavelli, Hobbes, Kant, and Malthus and historians from Livy and Thucydides to Winston Churchill. Into this mix of ancient thinkers and writers Kaplan mixes his own views on what is happening around the globe and what the future might look like. Warrior Politics doesn’t demand much of the reader and as a result delivers little in return.

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Sorry about the radio silence around here from yours truly. I had to take a trip to the great state of Michigan to attend my Aunt’s wedding. It was a good time as I got to see some relatives and hang out around a lake, but it was not conducive to reading or blog posting.

As soon as I get my act together and re-acclimatize to Ohio, I will post some content for you patient readers.

While scholars puzzle over the decline of American culture, my cousin Gus can pinpoint the precise moment the process began. Gus sells hot dogs from a cart in New York City’s pastoral Central Park. Gus is an avid reader and is preparing for an uptick in sales in front of the upcoming Republican nominating convention.

I interviewed Gus this weekend from a working pay phone.

Gus? What’s up?

“I’ll tell ya…my peddler’s license is current, all right?”

All right. Any tips for visiting Republicans?

“Yeah, exact change means exact change. Leave your fifty dollars bills in Dallas or wherever. New York is all about exact change.”

Can you see the statue of Balto from your cart?

“Nice try.”

Gus, when did American culture slip into decline?

“Miami, 1972. Up With People sang songs for Nixon. Then they cut loose about three million hot air balloons that damaged the ozone layer.”

The ozone layer?

“Whatever.”

And that was it?

“Pretty much. I had Up With People nightmares for months. On top of that, I got no ozone.”

Last time we spoke you were worried about globalization.

“They got a call center over in Bangalore, okay? That’s in India. You call and order your hot dog and they Fedex it to your door.”

Wow.

“Yeah, wow. People on the Westside never leave their apartments.”

How’s Dubya shaping up?

“He spent the week throwing curves and sliders. They all want to go ice skating. It’s August around here.”

And Kerry?

“He threw a belt high fast ball right past a reporter the other day. Turns out the guy’s French, for crying out loud. Le Soir or something. He needs to deck a few American reporters.”

What are you reading?

“All the classics. Pam Anderson right now.”

How’s Pam’s prose style?

“It’s very sharp. You could poke an eye out, it’s so sharp.”

Just like Mom warned…

“Exactly. Wait a minute…there goes a Fedex truck.”

Globalization strikes again?

“Don’t even ask about onions on that dog.”

Enjoy the convention.

“Tell everybody I need fives, okay? Tens maybe. Exact change, okay? And take the D train. It’s faster.”

Thanks Gus.

I finished writing a short story last week called When things Were Good. I use the word ‘finished’ loosely because everytime I look at it I change something. It’s about three thousand words in length and falls under the general heading of noir fiction.

The main character is Electric Bob, an ex-con released from prison after being declared dead. Bob was electrocuted in Elmira by a faulty grinder.

As the story opens Bob is driving a stolen pool service truck in a snow storm in upstate New York. He’s on his way to commit a major felony with his former cellmate, Marvin. Bob contemplates several things as he drives to the rendezvous. He’s intrigued by the fact the pool truck has a fish drawn on the side panel; Bob wonders if it’s art. Since his electrocution Bob struggles with abstract ideas, but he is fond of Renaissance Art.

Bob has a ‘to do list’ taped to the dashboard of the truck. Aside from crime, Bob has to pick up 2% milk and unsliced bread. He believes in forensic science but also believes that, if caught, the army will spirit him overseas and make him stand next to huge amounts of electric current or even a nuclear blast.

Bob and Marvin knock over a mob bank and steal four hundred grand.

They shoot a pair of ‘made guys’ and abandon the pool truck behind a local bar. Bob escapes in his girlfriend’s Camaro.

Bob swallows his to do list and drinks the 2% milk, so he has to get more. The store is out of 2% and Bob buys 1%, knowing he’ll catch hell. He’s driving home with his share of the loot when he sees the pool truck heading in the opposite direction. Unfortunately Bob feels compelled to follow the truck.

Bob is a minor character in a novel I’m writing called FLAMINGO DAWN.
Since I cut some of his scenes from the novel, I thought he might be a fun guy to write a short story about. The ending is kind of cool as Bob takes a hit to protect his girlfriend.

If anyone has any ideas about where to send a piece like this, I’d love to hear them. My short story craft is open to question and I’ve never been electrocuted. I’ve been to Batavia but not Elmira. Short story writers? Are you out there?