Lest readers of this blog think I am simply a book geek, let me assure you I am a geek in a whole range of subjects. When I am not sitting at home reading books I am often at home watching golf. I never thought the day would come when I would spend weekend afternoons watching golf on TV but it has come to pass. If you share this particular passion for the maddening game of golf then you were probably at home watching Vijay Singh eke out a playoff victory Sunday in the last major of the year. Singh may have won the PGA Championship at Whistling Straits with the highest final round score carded by a winner, but a win is a win. Despite his struggles on Sunday, I think the 41-year old Fijian can lay a claim to best player in the world. The good folks over at National Review Online were kind enough to post my argument. So check it out if you enjoy that sort of thing.
Deception by Denise Mina
It takes a few paragraphs in Denise Mina’s terrific new novel Deception to grasp what’s being described. The book is written in the first person perspective of Lachlan Harriot, a middle class man with a wife and daughter. Dr. Susie Harriot, Lachlan’s wife, has been found guilty of murder.
Lachlan can’t quite cope. He’s caught in the unwanted celebrity of a high profile murder. The victim was a serial killer; Susie is an educated woman, a psychiatrist assigned to the institution where the Riverside Ripper, Andrew Gow, was being held. In addition, Gow’s wife is missing and presumed dead.
If you’re cringing at the thought of yet another courtroom drama, relax. Denise Mina has an entirely different story to tell. In short order she pulls us away from the public mayhem and takes us into the very private world of Lachlan’s diminished household.
Lachlan and Susie have a two-year-old daughter and a Spanish nanny. Life sputters forward; Lachlan is drawn to Susie’s office in the attic. He needs to find some basis for an appeal of her conviction. Lachlan roots through his wife’s computer files, her notes on Andrew Gow and a woman named Donna who married the convicted killer.
Man It's Haute
I know it’s August and hot everywhere except in the Southern Hemisphere.
Here in the Pacific Northwest where summer temps often soar into the high sixties, it’s over ninety and has been for days. The weather is wreaking havoc on the bedazzled natives.
A ‘beach book’ in this corner of the world deals with hypothermia. Never mind corduroy and plaid, the kids wear parkas to frolic in the sand. Up in BC they’re diving into English Bay with nary a concern that the province is home to the sexiest RV salesmen on the continent. I read that somewhere and I believe it.
Although Pam Anderson’s ‘A Night of Literature’ is a complete fabrication on my part, Powell’s should consider it before Labor Day. Dubya’s Yosemite Sam mug is right next to Pam in the display window along with My Life and a gradually melting potpourri of books on haute cuisine. Never mind the cops, just park anywhere on Burnside and check it out.
It’s even worse in Seattle where the Elliot Bay Bookstore doesn’t serve iced coffee. Children born in the past four years ask “Mommy, what are those?’
when they see people wearing sunglasses. Like leap years, summers occur at intervals in Seattle, predicated less on the calendar than on what meteorologists darkly call ‘convergent zones.’ Don’t go into the convergent zone.
We’ll muddle through. It’ll rain on Labor Day Weekend and an ‘arctic air mass’ will stretch from Howe Sound to the California border. It’s said that whale watching is best accomplished on overcast days. I haven’t seen one in weeks.
Say it ain't so C-Span!
I am very sad this morning as I just found out C-Span is canceling Booknotes:
In announcing the cancellation of “Booknotes” — C-SPAN’s popular author interview program — yesterday, host Brian Lamb was haunted by the numbers. He spends 20 hours each week reading books in preparation for “Booknotes,” he estimates. That’s 1.8 years of his life that have been dedicated to reading since the show debuted April 2, 1989. Now he wants to reclaim some of that time for his personal life.
Oh fine, he thinks about his personal life but did he ever think about my life? So selfish Mr. Lamb, so selfish . . .
I guess I will have to be satisfied with Book TV now.
Brimstone By Lincoln Child and Douglas Preston
The suspense genre covers a lot of ground. BRIMSTONE falls into the territory occupied by John Saul, Peter Straub among others. This isn’t my favorite kind of book. On the other hand, I say that I don’t like lasagna, but there is anecdotal evidence to the contrary.
BRIMSTONE has the added feature of being written by two authors. This is fairly common in screenwriting; it’s a trend in novels that has been commented on by those more qualified than I am. I think Newt Gingrich does it; maybe you do it too. It’s distracting, because the authors have different styles.
The hidden gem in this novel is the fact that one of the characters believes he’s being cuckholded by an RV salesman in British Columbia; this makes the entire story worth reading.
Just how gay is "Death in Venice"?
Back in May I received a review copy of the Michael Henry Heim translation of Death in Venice by Thomas Mann. After finishing the short work, I didn’t post a review (although I did post some quotes as I was reading) as I felt a bit out of my league and had trouble pulling my thoughts together. Plus the book wasn’t coming out for a month so I thought I would try and review it after its publication date. Well, as these things often do, time got away from me and I never did post a review.
Well, today (via The Rake) I stumbled onto a interesting discussion of the book over at Salon (you need to subscribe or watch an ad to read the whole thing). I think Andrew O’Hehir does a good job of trying to rescue the work from being seen as simply a “gay master text” without denying the homo-erotic aspect of the novel.