Thursday, December 31, 2009
Charlie Stella, Cullen Gallagher and James Reasoner have said much of what I want to say about Ed Gorman's latest book over the last few weeks. And said it well.
This is the first Sam McCain book I have read and what a pleasure it was. All of Ed Gorman's novels are a treat to read. You enter a world that is mostly filled with benevolent, well-drawn non-stereotypical characters.
And then Ed throws in the monkey wrenches that set that peaceful Iowa world on its ear. There is murder and mayhem but you are never offended. We have a gentleman here.
And then he sets things right in a humane and compelling way.
Especially fun for me were the sixties touchstones-and I really admired the way he caught it on the cusp of a new era-and captured it without overplaying its markers. Sam McCain feels young, vibrant and on the edge of adulthood himself.
What I liked most about Ed's books is his obvious admiration and enjoyment of women. This is unusual in the books I read. His women are rarely shrews or nags or harpies. All of them seem like a romance or an adventure is just within their grasp--young and old.
My very favorite Gorman book is SLEEPING DOGS, but this is right up there. They all are.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
And I have been thinking about this a lot since reading about Zadie Smith's essays exploring the subject. I have been interested in Smith since reading WHITE TEETH in the mid-nineties when I was blown away by it.
In her new book of essays (CHANGING MY MIND) she says she has backed off temporarily from writing fiction in the quest to become a better reader of it. A good reader, she says, is as important as a good writer. You can find more about it right here.
What makes a good reader? Right now, reading books at all is becoming rare. But in your opinion, what are your duties as a reader? If any? Do you owe the writer more than the money you spent in buying their book? Do good readers produce good writers? How do we make good readers?
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
I don't like to list the years' best books. But I do think once in a while I should mention books not necessarily forgotten.
So settle for this: what did you read last, now, next?
Me: Last: Ticket to Ride (Gorman), Now: Hummingbirds (Gaylord) (I only read it in ms and that was several years ago), Next three: the Raymond Carver biography, Murder in Four Parts (Crider) and The Thirteenth Tale (Setterfield) for my book group.
How about you?
Monday, December 28, 2009
Bea Arthur reading.
Please forgive this BSP but what a thrill it was to have a visiting friend pick up the hard cover version of the book to the left from my coffee table ( I had just received the book on Christmas Eve) and read aloud an excerpt from my story on the front and back sleeve of the jacket. I hadn't seen it there. With writers the caliber of Connelly, Oates, Philips, Ardai, Parker, Piccirilli, not to mention Megan, I was thrilled to have it singled out in this way.
This was my favorite Christmas gift. But enough about me. What was your favorite gift given or received?
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Britanny Murphy reading.
Megan was here for four days over which time we had a chance to talk about the novel I have been trying to write. What she told me was that I have written a fictional memoir-and although the writing is lovely, it is too long and drifts too far from a crime novel to sell it as such. It is a literary novel with a crime in it. If it were actually my life story, I might sell it. But she is doubtful I can sell it as a piece of fiction.
So she advised me to 1) put it all in the first person from the POV of the daughter. 2) Get rid of most of the back story 3) Tell the story like Henry Hill did in Goodfellows 4) Center a lot more on the central crime and its aftermath. Stretch that day into half the book. 5)Make it half the length-maybe 180 pages.
This means excising scenes I love though-I have a whole chapter, for instance, on a woman cleaning a hotel room while her lover waits for her in the guest bed. Another scene of her destroying a house, room by room. This character loses her voice now and it would be difficult to work even a page or two in.
Will I do it? I don't know. My temptation is to forget about it and return to short stories, maybe salvaging a few chapters as short stories. Maybe I am a short story writer and shouldn't fight it. Except my short stories don't fit into many of the current zines very well. Which was why I turned to trying a novel. Make that two novels.
Oh, my. I am depressed.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
We saw several movies in the last few days. Two of the three were as familiar as Thanksgiving dinner (IT'S COMPLICATED and BROTHERS). Neither were bad movies just very predictable. The audience did not seem at all put off by this. Matter of fact, they laughed so hard at It's Complicated, I feared for their lives.
(UP IN THE AIR had several surprises and the writing sparkled for the most part).
Anticipating the next scene or action, seemed cathartic for my mid-western audience members. Maybe Christmas is not the time for surprises.
But I don't want to know what comes next. I want the writer to throw me some curves.
Do you get any satisfaction from the expected--other than in classic comic routines perhaps?
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
I may get restless without blogland and be back.
But if I'm not, have the happiest of holidays.
I love all of you and wish you well. You enrich my days.
And thanks to Graham Powell for keeping Crimespot flying. Where would we be without Graham.
Monday, December 21, 2009
How much do you notice the music in movies? For me, I notice the music if I am familiar with it. Other than that, not so much. On NPR they play the Oscar-nominated film music each year, and I can swear usually I've never heard the music before even when I've seen the movie--which I usually have. Is it possible that only so many of a sense can be engaged at once for some people and my movie watching is given over to hearing words and not music. Only something already familiar strikes a chord, so to say.
Does anyone else out there have these aural deficits or is it just me?
Saturday, December 19, 2009
David Stockman reading.
I know I buy many times more books than I used to because of blogland. If I see a smashingly good review from a blog review site, I often order the book on amazon. It allows or promotes a lot of impulse buying. Before I'd have to go to a store and find it. Now with a click it is mine. Same with music.
Do you find yourself buying if not reading more books than five years ago? Ten?
Friday, December 18, 2009
Elvis Costello reading,
Check out my review of THE MESSENGER on Crimespree Cinema and if you saw it, chime in.
The Summing Up, Friday, December 18, 2009
Patti Abbott, Mrs. Piggle Wiggle series, Betty McDonald
Paul Bishop, John the Balladeer, Manley Wade Wellman
Bill Crider, Flight to Darkness, Gil Brewer
Mike Dennis, Fires that Destroy, Harry Whittington
Martin Edwards, The Blackheath Poisoning, Julian Symons
Ray Foster, The Edge of the Sword, Anthony Farrer Hockley
Ed Gorman, Cross Country, Herbert Kastle
Randy Johnson, Phoenix Without Ashes, Edward Bryant and Harlan Ellison
George Kelley, Tom Swift and the Caves of Nuclear Fire, Victor Appleton
Toni P. Kelner, The Brains Benton Series, Charles Span Verral, George Wyatt
B.V. Lawson, Home is the Prisoner, Jean Catherine Potts
Leopard 13, The Ninth Configuration, William Peter Blatty
Evan Lewis, Kid Wolf of Texas, Paul S. Powers
Todd Mason, Fiasco, K.A. Laity, How to Win, Maria Bamford, Big Band, Toshiko Akiyoshi and Lew Tabackin
Russel D. McLean, How the Dead Live, Derek Raymond
Scott Parker, The Hound of the Baskervilles, Arthur Conan Doyle
James Reasoner, A Slice of Death, Bob McKnight
Rick Robinson, Storm Canvas, Armstrong Sperry
Kerrie Smith, Death is a Red Rose, Dorothy Eden.
See you back here on January 8th. Have a safe and splendid holiday season.
The Brains Benton Books: The Case of the Forgotten Series
The Ninth Configuration, by William Peter Blatty (Harper & Row 1978)
What was released that year actually germinated from a hasty 1966 novel titled, Twinkle, Twinkle, Killer Kane! From his author's note: "Its basic concept was surely the best I have ever created, but what was published was just as surely no more than the notes for a novel -- some sketches, unformed, unfinished, lacking even a plot." Luckily, for those of us who read the re-envisioned work in the late 70's (and those who would go on to discover and appreciate it decades later), it is an overlooked book worth remembering. Ironically, WPB has said more than once he considers it his unofficial sequel to The Exorcist. Although The Ninth Configuration shares a very loose connection (via an unnamed character) from that novel, the genre and plot line couldn't be more divergent. Plus, it works whether or not you've read the legendary blockbuster that preceded it.
The novel's story centers upon a select small group of military men secluded away with what are believed to be inexplicable mental disorders. Or, being highly intelligent men, they could be faking it--which could be the reason nothing has worked and why they continue their stay at a decaying Gothic mansion. Their treatment, and sanity, ultimately hinges upon one Marine Colonel Kane (a psychiatrist who may have his own issues) brought to the sheltered facility to seek the answers in the most unexpected of ways. Blatty crafts the story as a mystery to be solved, planting its seeds in the unusual interactions that take place. The author’s dialogue between the patients and staff are quite purpose-built, madcap, and unexpected. I cannot describe it any better than what a good friend wrote in a review of his, "Because the story is relatively brief, no words are wasted in an attempt to be lyrical or poetic. Yet somehow there are moments of utter poetry in the exchanges between doctor and patients, and in Kane's own introspective reasonings." While the material covered is meaty, it is one of the few novels that made be laugh out loud, and had my eyes welling by the time I finished it.
One could describe WPB as an author who writes eloquent, thought provoking fiction that draws in his readers with clever, humorous dialogue (keep in mind, he also wrote the screenplay for the comedy, A Shot In The Dark). Or put another way, he’s a humorous, clever writer who puts out eloquent novels that catch the readers off guard by being thought provoking. I'd say both are true. He just happened to author a chart topping novel of horror that eclipsed everything before, or since, in his bibliography. However, The Ninth Configuration remains perhaps a more intriguing read, and worth exploration by those who haven't experienced it. As well, for those of us who are film buffs, sprinkled throughout, the author references classic movie moments and dialogue within this novel. A few years after its publication, William Peter Blatty would pen and direct its film adaptation in 1980. Not surprisingly, it has developed a strong cult following, and many believe the story is more immersive on the screen (consider me in both groups). The 1978 novel is a svelte 135-page work, and next year TNC will be re-released by Centipede Press as a new edition. Purportedly, it will combine both novels and will include a long essay by film scholar Mark Kermode in a 292-page hardcover. So on this Friday, The Ninth Configuration is not forgotten (at least, by me anyways).
"Every kind thought is the hope of the world."
Patti Abbott-Because I couldn't decide which series to pick last week, here is the other one.
Mrs. Piggle Wiggle series by Betty McDonald
Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle has a chest full of magical cures left to her by her deceased pirate husband, Children with bad habits often find themselves in her care. This sounds like there is a scolding quality about these stories, yet Betty McDonald somehow avoids it by making it light-hearted and fun.
According to Wilkipedia-
The Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle stories were based on bedtime stories Betty made up for her daughters, nephews, and nieces (and later grandchildren and grandnephews/-nieces).
The final book in the series, published fifty years after the original, is largely written by MacDonald's daughter, Anne MacDonald Canham (the two share a writing credit for this book). The first story in the book is an unpublished MacDonald story, while Anne explains in the book that the remaining stories are based on "notes for other stories among her mother's possessions."
Ed Gorman is the author of TICKET TO RIDE, the latest Sam McCain novel and many other fine stories-long and short. You can find him here.
Herbert D. Kastle wrote a number of science fiction stories in magazines of the 1950s. That's where I first read him. Later in the 1960s he was writing those fat sexy bestseller-type novels that owed more to marketing and Harold Robbins than his presumed muse.
Then in 1974 he wrote CROSS COUNTRY. Here's a quote from one of the reviews: "This novel seems to occupy the same dark and twisted territory as the works of Jim Thompson. Characters interact in a dance of barely suppressed psychopathological urges and desires that is as
grotesquely fascinating as a multi-car pileup on the freeway. It may leave you feeling unclean afterwards, but chances are you will not forget it."
Damn straight. It really is a sewer of sex and terror and blood-soaked suspense. I read it in one long sitting. If it's trash, as some called it at the time, it is spellbinding trash.
IMDB sums up the story line succintly: "After a woman is found butchered in her New York apartment, suspicion falls on her estranged husband, an ad executive who has suddenly left town on a cross-country road trip. He takes along a beautiful girl he met in a bar and a drifter he picked up along the way. A cop sets out after the husband, but he's more interested in shaking him down than bringing him back."
Kastle masterfully controls his long nightmare journey and you buy into his paranoia. He shows you an American wasteland of truck stops, motels, convenience stores connected by interstate highway and darkness. By book's end everyone will betray everyone else. This is survival of the fittest enacted by a Yuppie businessman, sociopathic hippies and a crooked cop. The sheer nastiness of Kastle's existential vision make this book impossible to forget. Thirty-some years after I first read it I still think of it from time to time when hundreds of other novels have fled from memory.
As a vision of hell, it's a small masterpiece.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
There are all kinds of lists going around of the worst movies of the last decade. I haven't seen any of the movies on these lists--barely heard of them. I think to be a significantly bad movie there has to have been some pretense of a good movie inside it. You had to screw up a good piece of writing or a good idea. Something that makes it worthy of remembering as truly bad-worthy.
My choices for the worst movies I've seen this decade are The DaVinci Code (Howard), The Ladykillers (Coen Bros) and Anything Else (Allen). I'm not going to defend these choices, but surely this was the worst movie Allen or the Coen Bros. ever made. And although I didn't particularly love the book of the DaVinci Code, the movie took any strengths it had and made it murkier and more ludicrous.
What movies stick out for you?
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
I've been surprised to hear some of the criticism directed at this movie, which I thought was very fine and largely managed to veer from sentimentality or from elevating the heroine into something more than she is. The acting was extraordinary, the setting realistic, the story compelling if excruciating at points.
One criticism I heard was that the movie was episodic, lacking an arc. If ever a series of episodes built an arc, this was it. What saved me from bawling my way through it, was a scene the wise director inserted early on, where it becomes clear that Precious has the strength of both character and physicality to deal with the world. A classmate jeers at her beloved math teacher and she knocks him on his ass. I loved her from that moment on. Another criticism being aired is that the white or lighter people in the film are responsible for Precious's eventual successes.
I think Precious saved herself (much like the girl in AN EDUCATION) and she was the darkest skinned person in the movie.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
This flash is for the Steve Weddle Memorial Airport Flash Fiction Challenge. Daniel OShea is hosting it. For other stories go here.
by Patricia Abbott
Her daughter had booked a cheap flight landing at City Airport rather than Metro. The only high-tech item inside the ramshackle terminal was a TSA system. There were also three vending machines— one for a defunct newspaper—and a TV monitor from the 1980s. Shannon’s departure from O’Hare had been held up by snow and Pam was entering her third hour of internment, made worse by the fact that no E.T.A had appeared on the monitor for over an hour. Even criminals received a specific sentence.
It was 10 P.M. and the building was nearly vacant. Two rows of empty plastic chairs connected back-to-back. Most people landing at City had a car outside rather than a ride There was no taxi stand, no porters. She could go back home, but it was a forty-minute drive and the snow coming down in Chicago was beginning to fall in Detroit.
She picked up the day-old Free Press she’d managed to scrounge from the trashcan. Kwame Kilpatrick’s face occupied most of the front page. The shows that had been on TV the night before looked promising. No snow in the forecast and the Lions were 2 and 11. An unknown assailant had murdered a woman waiting at a bus stop. There were more pictures on each page than print. Were they moving toward a day when the public would glean information through pictures instead of words?
A plane landed—coming from Philadelphia according to the flashing monitor. Although this was not Shannon's flight, the thought of some new faces was strangely thrilling. As passengers quickly deplaned, she felt the row of chairs lurch. Someone sat down behind her. Pam picked up the scent of Vera Wang perfume. The woman was a few seats to the left, probably waiting for a tardy ride.
“It’s me,” Pam heard the woman say. Was there anything more annoying than listening to someone speaking on a cell phone? The banalities of common conversation were never more evident.
“She’ll be out cold on her Ambien.” Pause. “Just go over and do it. Yes, now.” The woman’s voice grew a bit louder as an announcement about the continuing delay at O’Hare came over the speakers. “Just yank the cord.” She sighed. “Look, we’ve been over this a million times. You don’t have wait on her 24-7.”
Pam felt rather than heard the woman put the phone away.
The ring tone, two minutes later, was a song by Otis Reading. Pam couldn’t place the title. “Yeah,” the woman said. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, we agreed on tonight so I’d….” she looked around and lowered her voice. “So I’d be out of town. I’ll have to start the drive home in a few minutes” Pause. “Two hours.” Pam imagined rather than saw her looking out the window. “If the weather cooperates. Although maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”
Pam stood up and walked a few steps away, pretending to stare out the window herself. She could still hear that voice though.
“She can’t breath without that oxygen, you idiot. A few minutes probably.”
Pam could see her clearly now. Fortyish, a business suit, blonde hair, a bit slack from perspiration. Throwing her phone into her purse, the woman walked to the restroom. People like her didn’t do things like this. Except when they did.
Her hair was scraped back into a pony tail when she returned. Pam tried not to stare at her sweating face, her ravenous mouth as she devoured a bag of Cheetos, a diet Faygo, a package of red licorice, crumpling the bag and tossing it handily into the trashcan ten feet away. This was clearly not her usual cuisine but the machines offered little else.
The woman spoke twice to the bored security guard at the entrance. “Think the snow’ll let up. It’s a long drive home.” Pam couldn’t hear his response. Was she setting up her witness?
“Try a Little Tenderness"--that was it--played again. “She couldn’t be,” the woman hissed. “Did the paramedic tell you that?” Pause. “Then she must’ve done it herself.” …. “Maybe it was an accident.” …“That’s impossible. If she’d been dead yesterday, I would’ve known before I left.” …. “No, no, I didn’t check. Just took off for the airport. Never gets up before nine. Has a fit if I wake her. That’s why….”
The woman was pacing again. Pam only heard the odd word or two when she drew closer in her circuit. “Don’t tell them anything. I’ll handle it when….” She was too far away to make it out.
Pam strained to hear her, inching down the row of plastic seats one by one, turning the corner to get as near to the woman as possible. Stopping abruptly as the woman suddenly turned on her heel and clicked across the floor to retrieve her suitcase.
She looked Pam in the face for the first time—her eyes red, her skin ashen. Then she straightened up a bit, put a hand on her hip and said, “You weren’t trying to pinch my bag, were you?”
Monday, December 14, 2009
Dick Powell reading.
George Kelley mentioned this series (Paris Review-Writers at Work) last week and my university library owns most of the volumes, so I started with one.
From an interview with William Styron:
Interviewer: And what time of day do you find best for writing?
Styron: The afternoon. I like to stay up late at night and get drunk and sleep late. I wish I could break the habit but I can't. The afternoon is the only time I have left and I try to use it to the best advantage with a hangover.
The interviewer responds by next asking if he uses a notebook!!!!
We are all familiar with the problems of alcohol and writing. But with Styron, it turned out to be depression (Darkness Invisible) as it did for Carver, Cheever, Faulkner, Fitzgerald and so many others.
Lying in bed is difficult for someone who's depressed. You put it off-those hours when you are in the dark with yourself. Dark thoughts....so you medicate yourself with booze or drugs or both. Finding your way out of this chasm through writing is possibly a solution, or possibly contributes to the disease.
Any thoughts. Are there writers who are the sanest gals/guys on the block? How many writers are insomniacs too?
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Take a gander at one of the most wonderful sites ever-both for fun and reference.
Richard Wheeler's sister-in-law Shermane Billingsley, daughter of Sherman, club founder and owner, put it together. I am constantly amazed at how clever people are.
It is so well done and such a treat. Thanks for sharing it, Richard!
Dorte's fabulous Christmas tree from Denmark. And those are real candles. Dorte assured me no serious fire had ever taken place but sometimes the tree browns prematurely. Thanks, Dorte. Have a wonderful Christmas.
Patrick O'Leary's poem below is based on our Friday night writing group's grappling with the big picture. Thank you for sharing your poem.
The one time I ever fainted
I was furious when they woke me
We laughed that laugh
when you want to hold someone
& say Yes I know yes Yes it’s awful
& it may not get better
but we laughed instead
& someone said my friend
was dying from an overdose of penicillin
& he felt nothing but ecstasy
& another said yes
my friend felt the same
when she was drowning
on a perfect summer day
& someone asked what possible
could such a reprieve serve?
Couldn’t it all be random?
But it nagged us nonetheless
that in our final passage
we might go gently
& I noticed no one dared
to tender the possibility of
a merciful manager of
survival dispensing relief
though that is what some of us
actually believe or hope
& then our friend whose mother
had survived the camps said
Perhaps it’s not for us
but for the predator
rewarding his catch
by pacifying his prey
(who after all is caught)
hastening the transition
from creature to meal
This seemed so shocking
& apt it silenced us
on this lovely evening when
we huddled around
our civilized fire
of coffee cheese & crackers
telling stories of precipices
reassuring the tribe
with tales of great escapes
thrilling chases & close calls
which if one is honest
form the spine of all story
& I believe each of us
for the briefest moment
of that larger thing
in the brutal winter
& the darker dark
who occasionally listened in
on our little group
of story makers
our lively heads chatting
in the golden windows
of the night
Let them talk
Let them talk their heads off
Saturday, December 12, 2009
How do you feel about the hyper-focused novel--or at least that's how I think of it. Does it bother you if a book is 300 pages about one thing. Well, not exactly one thing, but about a single problem in its various manifestations and complications.
Let's say the problem is alcoholism. And the alcoholism of the central character ruins lives and leads to criminal activity. Would you need a break from his problem? Or would such a break take you out of that little world the writer has created.
Of course, all of it depends on how good the writing is and how interesting the permutations are. But on the whole, can you take 300 pages of misery with a few humorous episodes still related to the general problem. Thoughts?
Friday, December 11, 2009
Sherlock and John Watson reading.
All of the last twenty months picks are here.
Next week is the regular fare. December 25th, no fare. January 1, no fare.
Back on January 8th.
I intended to post links on the 1 but I will be out of town and turning another year older and decided that was enough.
The Summing Up, Friday, December 11, 2009
Patti Abbott, The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew, Margaret Sidney
Paul Bishop, X Marks the Spy, Jack Laneer
Bill Crider, Joyce of the Secret Squadron, R. R. Winterbotham
Loren Eaton, The Prince in Waiting, John Christopher
Ray Foster, The Offenders, R.H. Ward
Ed Gorman, Bonjour Tristesse, Francoise Sagan
John Harvey, The Devil's Home on Leave, Derek Raymond
Jerry House, Five Thousand Miles Underground, Roy Rockwood
Randy Johnson, The Hardy Boys Series, Franklin W. Dixon
George Kelley, Mickey Mouse and His Space Ship, LITTLE GOLDEN BOOKS
B.V. Lawson, An Overview of Finding Books for Kids at Libraries
Evan Lewis, Have Gun Will Travel, Barlow Meyer; Maverick, Charles Combs, Zorro, Steve Frazee (Whitman Authorized Versions)
Todd Mason, My Brother Stevie, Eleanor Clymer, Voyager in Time, edited by Robert Silverberg, Alfred Hitchcock Monster Museum.
Jeff Meyerson, The Tomorrow Series, John Marsden
Terrie Moran, June B Jones books, Barbara Park and the YA books of Chris Grabenstein
Kent Morgan, The Southpaw, Donal Hamilton Haines
Scott Parker, The Sign of Four, Arthur Conan Doyle
Eric Peters, My Side of the Mountain, Jean Craghead George, Where the Red Fern Grows, Wilson Rawls
Laurie Powers, Man O'War, Walter Farley
James Reasoner, Freddy the Detective, Walter R. Brooks
Rick Robinson, Winnie the Pooh, The House at Pooh Corner, A.A. Milne
Kerrie Smith, The Amateur Cracksman, E.W. Hornung
R.T. Red Planet, Robert A. Heinlein
Kid's Edition (Or perhaps not, if people didn't see my suggestion)
THE FIVE LITTLE PEPPERS AND HOW THEY GREW, Margaret Sidney
The Five Little Peppers book series was created by Margaret Sidney between 1881 and 1916. The series began with the Peppers, a fatherless family, finding themselves in difficult straits. Mamsie presides over her three sons and two daughters.
My copy of the first volume has a few lovely colored pictures and many in black and white. It is number Book#28 in the Patti Nase Library. That information is crossed out and the name Jeff Nase written over it. Some evil has been at work here.
The style is very much like that in LITTLE WOMEN and is clearly greatly influenced by Alcott. The poverty, the triumph over adversity, the camaraderie is similar, the cozy setting is the same. Yet this series continues past the first volume, highlighting different circumstances and family members over time. The writing is lovely. I was amazed at how sophisticated the language was since it is billed for 8-12 year olds. There is something comforting in how none of their problems came from lack of love, drugs, prejudice, or any modern distraction. I could read one right now. I didn't save many of my childhood books, (many passed down to me from cousins and friends), but I saved four Little Pepper books. All of them claimed by my brother, who I am sure never read a book without a cowboy on the cover.
In order of publication, the Five Little Peppers books are as follows (publication dates follow in parentheses):
Five Little Peppers and How They Grew (1881)
Five Little Peppers Midway (1890)
Five Little Peppers Grown Up (1892)
Five Little Peppers: Phronsie Pepper (1897)
Five Little Peppers: The Stories Polly Pepper Told (1899)
Five Little Peppers: The Adventures of Joel Pepper (1900)
Five Little Peppers Abroad (1902)
Five Little Peppers At School (1903)
Five Little Peppers and Their Friends (1904)
Five Little Peppers in the Brown House (1907)
Five Little Peppers: Our Davie Pepper (1916)
Jeff Meyerson has been a member of DAPA-EM for over 30 years and published an early fanzine in pre-computer days called (way before the bookstore/publisher of the same name existed) The Poisoned Pen. I was a mail order book dealer, specializing in secondhand British mystery and detective fiction. I've read thousands of mysteries since 1970.
John Marsden, THE TOMORROW SERIES (1993-1999)
Jerry House lives in Southern Maryland. He can be reached at email@example.com.
FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND; OR, THE MYSTERY AT THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH, "Roy Rockwood"
My childhood seemed to occur on the borderlands of political correctness and non-political correctness. Some of the Hardy Boys books I read were of the original, non-PC variety; others (many times the same title) were ones rewritten for a kinder, gentler generation. Most of the non-PC books I read as a boy dealt negatively with racial and ethnic stereotypes, including this week's selection. So please forgive me. Hey, I was a pretty naive kid growing up on a farm; what the hell did I know?
Only five paragraphs into the story, we hear Washington White for the first time: "Yas sir, Perfessor, I'se goin' t' saggasiate my bodily presence in yo' contiguous proximity an' attend t' yo' immediate comglomerated prescriptions at th' predestined period. Yas, sir!" Two paragraphs later, we learn that Washington (surprise! surprise!) is a negro; his race being the opposite of his last name. (How I managed to grow up without believing all Blacks were loyal, uneducated, cowardly companions is completely beyond me.)
Five Thousand Miles Underground was the third of eight books in the Stratemeyer syndicate's Great Marvel Series, this one written by Howard R. Garis (who also wrote many of the early Tom Swift books). The adventure features a motley crew consisting of ace inventor Mr. (sometimes called Professor) Henderson, plucky teenage orphans Jack Darrow and Mark Sampson, old hunter Andy Sudds, ex-farmers-now-assistants Tom Smith and Bill Jones (doomed forever, I fear, to remain in the backgrounsd) and the aforementioned Stepin Fe...I mean, Washington White.
In the second book in the series, this crew had discovered a hole in the earth (don't ask). Now Henderson has created a flying boat, The Flying Mermaid, to explore the mysterious hole. So off they go, having amazing adventures every chapter. After being attacked by a maddened whale and surviving a cyclone, they come across a burning ship and managed to rescue fourteen men. Thirteen of the men, alas, are ne'er-do-wells who mutiny and take over the flying boat. Jack and Mark, being clever, pluckish lads, outsmart the mutineers and trick them into jumping overboard (don't ask). Soon they find the hole in the earth and begin their descent. (In the book's illustration, the flying part of the flying boat has a distinctly phallic look; if this was some sort of symbolism, it went way over my ten-yearhold head.) During the descent, they lose consciousness.
When our heroes awaken, we discover that they have descended five thousand miles and have landed on an world floating inside earth--complete with sun and seven moons (one central moon and six revolving around it -- don't ask). We also discover that Jack is accident-prone; he immediately gets gobbled by a giant man-eating plant. OK, so they rescue him, and a few chapers later he (I think; I skimmed this part) gets captured by the half-vegetable/half animal snake-tree and gets rescued again. The water in this world runs thick as molasses, and the sky seems to change color often. We meet giant insects, dangerous walking fish and weird animals that seemed cobbled together from every beast the author could think of.
You can't have an underground world without an underground civilization. This one is inhabited by giant, mis-shapen men with the soft consistency of snow (don't ask). Hankos, their king, speaks an odd mixture of ancient Latin and Greek (don't ask) and (I gather) is the only one to do so (don't ask). Hankos, being scientifically-minded, had somehow managed to up to the earth's surface, where he shrank to the size of a normal human being (don't ask), and, finding himself just a short distance from Mr./Professor Henderson's island. Did I mention that Henderson had an island? It turns out that Hankos managed to sneak aboard The Flying Mermaid and had been hidden there all along through the many adventures (don't ask). By the way, Hankos grew to his normal giant-size when he got back to the centre (note the British spelling) of the earth. Thankful that they brought him home, Hankos took the crew to the Temple of the Treasure at the top of an underground mountain (don't ask), and let them have at it. Suddenly an earthquake (skyquake? don't ask) closed the mysterious hole in the earth. We our heroes trapped? Well, no. Turns out there was another mysterious hole in the earth that could be reached by a (five thousand mile? don't ask) geyser.
Anyway, everyone gets home safely and the boys decided to use their newly-gained wealth to get an education. One hopes it was in plot development and physical science.
As a ten-year old, I ate this stuff up. (Back then, WTF was not in my vocabulary.) Even today, I think it's pretty cool.
[Five Thousand Miles Underground was published by Cupples & Leon in 1908. The other seven books in the Great Marvel Series were Through the Air to the North Pole, Under the Ocean to the South Pole, Through Space to Mars, Lost on the Moon, On a Torn-Away World, The City Beyond the Clouds, and By Spaceship to Saturn.]
Ed Gorman is the author of the new Sam McCain book, TICKET TO RIDE and many other fine novels. You can find him here.
Bonjour Tristesse - Francoise Sagan
In the summer of 1958 I was sixteen years old and going through my first real heartbreak. My only solace was in books and movies. Seeing people was too painful. I mention this because my state of mind had a good deal to do with my reaction to a slender Dell paperback I'd been hearing about.
Bonjour Tristesse had been written by a seventeen-year-old French
schoolgirl and it had the good fortune to become a scandal in both
Europe and the United States. The story concerned seventeen-year-old
Cecile whose wealthy and handsome father is what one might call, in
crude Yankee tongue, an ass-bandit. His latest young thing is Elsa whom
Cecile likes because she's the kind of trivial beauty her father will dump after a few months. But then Anne appears and Cecile must plot to get rid of her. Anne is serious competition to Cecile. She will take
Cecile's father from her, at least mentally and spiritually. From here the story deals with Cecile's attempt to destroy a fine woman--and one of her deceased mother's best friends--before her father falls in love
with her. The end is tragic.
The novel is about pain and betrayal and loneliness and is told so simply and directly it has the effect of a stage monologue. It was condemned by most of the old farts--the French Catholic novelist Francois Mauriac reviewed it and sounded as if he was making the case for Sagan's execution--while the more charitable critics found it
earnest and compelling if not quite as important as all the fuss would have it.
There was an Iowa angle, too. Otto Preminger discovered eighteen-year-old Jean Seberg from Marshalltown, Iowa and starred her in his catastrophic production of St. Joan. The critics loved her melancholy beauty (who wouldn't?) but she certainly wasn't up to a role this difficult. This could have ended her career but she was quickly cast in Bonjour Tristesse--which wasn't much of a movie--and did a fine job. Later she would become a French film icon when she did Breathless with Jean Paul Belmondo.
But Seberg had a troubled life very much like that of a Sagan heroine. At least one of her husbands beat her and J. Edgar Hoover had his creeps stalk her here and in France. He tried to destroy her by feeding tales to the press of how she just might be seeing a black man and showing a definite interest in left-wing politics. She died at
forty-one in circumstances that the authorities believed pointed to suicide. She had long struggled with depression.
I followed Sagan's career to the end because Bonjour had given me so much comfort that terrible summer. In France she was seen, at least early on, as a kind of J.D. Salinger, though I always thought her take
on this vale of tears was far richer than his. And by the time she wrote Those Without Shadows a few years later she was far out of his league. And she certainly never disappointed the media. Here, from
Wikipedia, just a bit of her life story:
Personal life Sagan was married twice; to Guy Schoeller ( married 13 March 1958, an editor with Hachette, 20 years older than Sagan, divorced June 1960), and to Bob Westhof ( a young American playboy and would-be ceramist, married 10 January 1962, divorced 1963.
Their son Denis was born in June 1963.) She took a lesbian longer term lover in fashion stylist Peggy Roche; and had a male lover Bernard Frank, a married essayist obsessed with reading and eating. She added
to her self-styled "family" by beginning a long-term lesbian affair with the French Playboy magazine editor Annick Geille, after she approached Sagan for an article for her magazine.
Fond of traveling in the United States, she was often seen with Truman Capote and Ava Gardner. She was once involved in a car accident in her Aston Martin sports car - (14 April 1957) - which left her in a coma
for some time. She also loved driving her Jaguar automobile to Monte Carlo for gambling sessions.
Also, in the 1990s, Sagan was charged with and convicted of possession of cocaine.
Sagan was, at various times of her life, addicted to a number of drugs. She was a long-term user of prescription pills, amphetamines, cocaine, morphine, and alcohol.When police came for inspection in her house her dog called Banko showed cocaine to them and also licks cocaine. Sagan told police " Look! he likes it too."
Kent Morgan writes a sports column for a paper in Winnipeg, Manitoba, but spends most of his time puzzling over what to do with all the books piled on his furniture and floor and stored in his garage. More bookcases are not the answer as he has no room for them.
I came across a copy of this juvenile novel at a recent charity book sale and quickly grabbed it for my baseball fiction collection. I didn't remember much about the story, but knew I had owned and read it in my youth. First published by Rinehart in 1931, Comet Books started reprinting it in 1949 and that's the edition I found. The book includes illustrations by Harold Minton and several panels on the back cover along with brief text provided the potential reader with an idea about the storyline.
"All Hillton Academy hated baseball, and every other sport except for hazing freshmen. For games bored Greg Elliott, a senior who had the whole school under his thumb. Then Bob Griswold arrived, like a one-man revolution. Bob loved baseball and refused to be bossed. That got him into a knock-down fight with Butch, Elliott's bully. And into much worse trouble with Elliott himself. Finally this undercover battle for leadership blazed into a revolt that shook Hillton Academy to its foundation."
The Southpaw with a cover price of .35 was #16 in a series of 20 mystery, sports, career and adventure tales published by Comet. Among the titles are The Green Turtle Mystery by Ellery Queen Jr., The Spanish Cave by Geoffrey Household and Sue Barton, Student Nurse by Helen Dore Boylston. The series also includes two other baseball books, Batter Up by Jackson Scholz and Bat Boy of the Giants by Garth Garreau, that I also read in my youth. My copies could be hiding from me in boxes in my garage.
John Harvey (Adult)
Kerrie Smith (adult)
Martin Edwards offers a special post to a friend who died last summer.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Is it me or has sex largely disappeared from multiplex theater movies? When I think back to the seventies and eighties, there was a lot of sex going on on the screen. At some point, did we get bored with it? Did Hollywood decide it wasn't worth risking an X rating. Have we seen it all by now? Are there only so many ways to peel a potato? Sometimes I think there is more sex on cable networks than at the movies. Are the actresses so thin they're afraid for us to see their ribs. Or, are romantic films basically consigned to women of a certain age reluctant to expose themselves (Sandra Bullock, Sarah Jessica Parker, Meryl Streep, Diane Keaton, Rene Zellweger, Julianne Moore)
What was the last mainstream movie you saw with much sexual content? I'm not looking for porn here--just the evocation of a normal act or at least a hint of it.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
How about some new forgotten kid's books contributors this week?
Every once in a while there's a documentary about sports that really seems to sum up the sport, or the times, or both. The legendary game of the title took place in 1968, at the height of the Vietnam War. Although the movie talks about the war a little, how some of the players were against the war and others strong supporters, the emphasis is on that game.
With less than a minute to go in the game, Yale was ahead by 16 points. You have to see the movie to find out what happened. (Or maybe the score in the title will tell you). Every man interviewed for this remembers that game more vividly than yesterday's dinner.
I guess there will never be a better sports documentary than Hoop Dreams, which I watched alone in Manchester England in 1995. And when I say alone, I mean I was the only one in the theater on a weekday afternoon. Obviously, basketball isn't big there. Second place, "When We Were Kings" (Ali). I have yet to see TYSON, which I hear is excellent.
But this movie was exciting and it is always strange to hear about how games played in youth can become the defining moment in person's life. Any favorite sports movies, docs or otherwise out there?
Monday, December 07, 2009
Hey, guys, if anyone would like to take a picture of some Christmas decoration at their house, I'l love to take a break from the readers and post it. A tree, a wreath, you in a Santa hat, cookies, candy, outside lights, anything. Just send it my way.
I would love to find the books I want at local bookstores. (We have no independent ones within twenty miles of here). But I go into my local big chain store and they never have the book I want. So I end up ordering it on Amazon. It's cheaper and easier and if the local brick and mortar store wants our business, they need to try harder. They have to carry more books and less cards, toys, coffee mugs, coffee.
I try to use online stores other than Amazon, too. Three experiences of late. My daughter tried to send my father a present-it never turned up. She tried to send my grandson a present from a toy company, twice it was delivered to the same wrong house in another suburb entirely. Both times, she filled out a form with the correct address. I sent a book to someone ill, from a bookstore other than Amazon, and despite my filling out an address in Maryland, they delivered it to me in Michigan.
Is it me or are you having the same problems and turning to Amazon in frustration. I ordered five items from them in the last week and all are already here. How come they do such a good job? Are there elves or slaves in their basement? I hate having to give them all my business. How do you avoid it? Who else does a good job?
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Do you have one to nominate?
The 2000 graduate of Southfield-Lathrup High School had just finished his college career at Savannah State University, where he was a defensive back and once was seen as a possible NFL draft pick. Courtney Solomon was a master's student in the MPA program at Wayne State University and worked an an intern at Hospice of Michigan. (my addition).
Wayne County Circuit Judge Michael Hathaway scheduled Jackson’s sentencing for Dec. 21.
Margaret Mead reading.
From Richard Wheeler
I thought this might be an entertainment for you.
"South Of The Border (Down Mexico Way)"
South of the border, down Mexico way.
That's where I fell in love where stars above, came out to play.
And now as I wonder, my thoughts ever stray.
South of the border, down Mexico way.
She was a picture, in old spanish ways.
Just for a tender while I kissed the smile, upon her face.
For it was fiesta, and love had it's day.
South of the border, down Mexico way.
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay (Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay)
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay (Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay)
Then she sighed as she whispered manyana, never dreaming that we were parting.
And I lied as I whispered manyana, for our tomorrow never came.
South of the border, I rode back one day.
There in a veil of white by candlelight, she kneeled to pray.
The mission bells told me, that I shouldn't stay.
South of the border, down Mexico way.
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay (Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay)
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay (Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay)
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay (Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay)
Good bye good bye.
I think one thing that throws any understanding off is the big swinging beat.
(My guess is when he didn't come back, she became a nun. But I may be influenced by a carved Madonna I picked up at a garage sale yesterday which is now hanging across from my bed).
Try Gene Autry's version for a different feel. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZYPa6tI43Q
What song lyrics mystify you?
Friday, December 04, 2009
THE SUMMING UP, Friday, December 4, 2009
Paul Bishop, Love and Glory, Robert B, Parker
Tony Black, He Died With His Eyes Open, Derek Raymond
Bill Crider, The Tooth & Nail, Bill Billinger
Martin Edwards, Detective Fiction-the Collector's Guide, John Cooper and B.A. Pike
Ed Gorman, Evil Days, Bruno Fischer
Randy Johnson, Dick Tracy, William Johnston
George Kelley, Dr. Syn Returns, Russell Thorndike
B.V. Lawson, A Different Kind of Summer, Jennie Melville (Gwendolyn Butlet)
Evan Lewis, Murder Wears a Halo, Howard Browne
Todd Mason, First World Fantasy Awards, Gahan Wilson
Jeff Meyerson: John Sladek, INVISIBLE GREEN (1977) Bari Wood, THE TRIBE (1981)
Walter Mosley, WALKIN' THE DOG (1999)
Juri Nummelin, Experience with Evil, Ross MacDonald
Scott Parker, A Study in Scarlet, Arthur Conan Doyle
Eric Peterson, Please Kill Me (McNeil 7 McCann); We Got the Neutron Bomb, Marc Spitz
Gimme Something Better, ?
Neil Plakay, The Zoo Gang, Paul Gallico
James Reasoner, Roadside Night, Erwin N. Nistler and Gerry P. Broderick
Rick Robinson, The Case of the Velvet Claws, Erle Stanley Gardner
Kerrie Smith, The Satan Bug, Ian Stuart (Alistair Maclean)
R.T. Murder in the Rough, edited by Otto Penzler