Short Story Wednesday

 I got nothing today. How about you?

 

George Kelley 

TracyK 

Jerry House 

Short Story Wednesday" My First Job, Patricia Abbott

 

My First Job

In 1966, I returned home to Philadelphia after a botched attempt at elopement during my second semester of college. My parents, learning that I had withdrawn, alerted the state police, and I was eventually tracked down in Virginia after a long Greyhound bus trip from the college in Massachusetts. As I have reported the full story of this escapade elsewhere, I will just say it was a full-scale debacle, expensive for my parents and humiliating for me. Later my children would ask to hear it at family gatherings and find it very amusing.  Their misdeeds were minor when compared to this.

The morning after I came home in February 1966, I found the Want Ads (a newspaper section I didn’t know existed till then) of the Philadelphia Inquirer on the kitchen table. Several ads were circled in angry red. Lots of exclamations points decorated it. Most of the ads were for jobs at diners and pizza places or as store clerks in pet stores or Kresge’s, but one was for a job at Curtis Publishing Company in downtown Philadelphia, a bus and a subway ride from my house.  I had no idea what the job entailed, but the skills listed seemed basic enough for a high school graduate with one semester of college under her belt. So newspaper in hand, I made my way on public transportation to 6^th and Walnut Street. I was hired on the spot. Apparently my one semester in college and decent high school grades has won me the position—a job I soon realized I was ill-equipped to do. I had no idea if the salary listed was reasonable, having never had a full-time job before. ($55.00 a week). My parents had given me no advice on what I could expect and whether I should try to barter them up. So I said nothing, just filled out the paperwork and was shown my desk. Most of the other employees in the large office were forty years my senior.

Curtis Publishing Company was unknown to me although it was a famous Philadelphia landmark. The only downtown buildings I was familiar with were the four major department stores (John C. Wanamakers, Lit Brothers, Gimbels, and Strawbridges) and the handful of elegant movie houses. Center City Philadelphia was ground zero to dozens of well-known movie theatres (today there are just a handful). Clustered in districts on Market, Chestnut, South, and North 8^th Streets, these entertainment venues (such as the Boyd, the Fox, the Stanley and the Goldman) lined the sidewalks with blinking lights and glistening facades, drawing thousands of visitors downtown. Many Saturdays, my girlfriends and I traveled down to see first-run movies at these palaces. We would dress up (heels and gloves included) for the occasion as was the custom in the early to mid-sixties. The movies playing there would not make their way to our shabby neighborhood theaters for weeks. They didn’t seem like the same movie at all viewed in the Renel Theater that carried a smell that was not just popcorn.

Curtis Publishing Company, my future place of employment, was founded in 1891, and was a major publisher and home to Ladies Home Journal, The Saturday Evening Post, Country Gentleman, Jack and Jill Magazine and several other notable publications. It was an historic building right across the street from Independence Hall and had features such as the Tiffany-designed “Dream Garden” mosaic, atriums, a lot of bronze fixtures and chandeliers, and other notable architectural elements. It occupied an entire city block and still sits there today. From the floors to the ceilings and everywhere in between, there were exquisite details inspired by the French Beaux-Arts architectural movement. The Dream Garden mosaic, designed by Philadelphia-born artist Maxfield Parrish, is composed of 100,000 pieces of iridescent Favrile glass. The building was 12 stories high.

By the time I arrived at its door in 1966, it was in decline as a first-tier publisher, and various departments had been combined to save money. Many attempts had been made to rescue it with bank loans and money from a multitude of investors, and all of them had failed. Its failure was mostly blamed on a lack of diversification in its publications and the aging population who subscribed to them. Its publications were no competition for magazines such as Cosmopolitan, Vogue, Playboy and Glamour, which had many more subscribers. They looked to be from different centuries. Today, the building still stands it all its glory, but it largely offers services to self-publishing authors.  

During my six months in this building, I didn’t notice a single one of the architectural glories it featured. I walked to the bank of elevators that day and took one to Personnel. I was hired in purchasing. None of the departments that had a hope of interesting me had jobs. I had left college thoughtlessly with no idea of what I might do instead. I had hitched my wagon to a cartoon aficionado with no ability to draw. Much like I had given no thought of what I would major in when I traveled off to Massachusetts, I gave no thought on how I would support myself once I left. That would be the concern of my intended husband whose greatest skill was shooting a basketball into my wastepaper basket.

Curtis Publishing Company seemed to think I was someone who could have a fairly responsible job. Or they weren’t exactly flooded with applicants. So within a week or so, after mastering the antiquated adding machine, my job seemed somewhat above my pay grade. When things were delivered to various departments in the building, I marched down to that department and checked that the order was complete and signed for by the department head. Then I went back to purchasing and checked to make certain the bill was correct, and then authorized payment. I expected someone senior to me would check on the process (or at least on my math), but Curtis was so short of personnel by then that no one did. My high school math skills were apparently expected to keep the place afloat. Most of the offices on my floor of the building were either empty or occupied by jocular men who seemed to do little more than banter and flirt. Clearly they could see which was the wind was blowing.

But I soldiered on, spending an hour or more to get to the office each day. My parents decided to ask me to pay room and board since I had cost them a semester’s non-refundable tuition with my stunt. By the time I paid them and my taxes, I could probably have made more money babysitting. As summer drew near, I noticed there was no air-conditioning in my office. Just a couple of lazy ceiling fans that moved Philadelphia’s humid air around. One day a woman in my office had a stroke and died on the gurney.

Around then, I started looking for a new job. My search was sped up when I was accosted by a man in a convertible who blocked by way in crossing a street with his huge car coming home from work. In the sixties in Philly, many screen doors were still open so I swiveled and ran up a walk and into  a house. The woman, who was ironing, called the police once I told her what had happened. The police escorted me home and my parents and I decided I would look for a job with an easier trip home.

My next -door neighbor was a lineman for Bell of Pa and suggested I apply for work as a service representative. So that is what I did. My mother worked near the Bell office and would give me a ride. And my pay would be $75 a week. I’d start my three month’s training in two-weeks time.

Unfortunately when I told some of my colleagues at Curtis about my new job and new salary, it created dissent in the office and the next thing I knew two burly men were escorting me out of the building after I bundled my few personal items. We exited via the main door and I finally saw the attractive mural I hadn’t laid eyes on in the six months I worked there. 

 

TracyK 

Steve Lewis 

Short Story Wednesday: "The Best of Everything" Richard Yates

 

From the archives

Richard Yates wrote two of my favorite novels, REVOLUTIONARY ROAD and THE EASTER PARADE, but he also wrote this fabulous collection of ten short stories (among others). Written in the fifties "The Best of Everything" almost seems like a story written earlier. Were people in their twenties this naive? This innocent? I have to assume some were.

It is the story of a couple on the day before their marriage is to take place in Atlantic City. The point of view switches between the two of them and you can't help but notice how drastically different they are from each other once you are in their heads. You also realize they don't know each other at all and that their marriage will probably fail quickly. 

The woman is a typical middle class young woman working as a secretary. She speaks well and is respected in her office. The man is a step or two down the socioeconomic ladder and has a poor grasp of English, which the woman's roommate makes her constantly aware of, calling he and his friends, "Ratty little clerks." 

But for whatever reason, Grace goes forward with the marriage plans although we sense her worry. Her roommate, feeling badly about the things she has said about Eddie, leaves her alone the night before the wedding and Grace plans an early consummation, feeling this will set things right.

But Eddie has been the man of the hour with his friends at a bachelor party and he is stunned by their good will. You get the feeling he has never been the center of attention before this night. He hurries to Grace's apartment to tell her he is going back to the party and her attempt to seduce him goes to naught.

We understand now that Eddie will always choose his friends over his wife and that will destroy their marriage quickly. She goes so far to put his hand on her naked breast. Nothing.

There is a lot of discussion online about this story. One teacher said it was the cause of a female student in his class dumping her boyfriend. Yates' real gift here is capturing the mind and language of both characters so clearly and with sympathy. Eddie is not a bad man and Grace is not a snob, but they certainly don't belong together. They seem to have reached an age when they believe it is time to marry no matter to whom.

Here is a nice piece by Stewart O'Nan pondering the fate of the writing of Richard Yates. He had an unhappy life and an undeserved disappearance from the shelves. His resurgence in the early nineties quickly died out. A real shame. 

George Kelley 

Jerry House 

TracyK 

FFB: NOTHING IN HER WAY, Charles Williams

 

Book Review: Charles Williams, Nothing in Her Way (1953)(From Noirboiled Notes 2009)

Charles Williams' Nothing in Her Way is a novel of the con game--one con involving mining sand for glass, the other involving horse racing--in which Cathy Dunbar and Mike Belen seek belated financial revenge on the men who ruined their fathers' business more than two decades before. A nice read with the obligatory twists and turns

Short Story Wednesday: CAVES OF THE RUST BELT, Joe Kapitan

 (from Matt Paust) 

CAVES OF THE RUST BELT – Joe Kapitan

I've just finished reading Joe Kapitan's second fiction collection, Caves of the Rust Belt: Ohio Stories, and am virtually paralyzed with admiration. My reactions whirl at an unfathomable depth. Occasionally I have to remember to breathe. But my fingers still work, being less emotional, and are doing my thinking on the keyboard.

Kapitan is sneaky. A startlingly inventive wordsmith with a plain voice, innocent of the conventionally snarky tone so many young writers affect to advertise their cleverness presumably distinct from the herd. He seduces you to lay aside conditioned “smarter than thou” defenses, drawing you into a seemingly familiar narrative until of a sudden you’ve no idea just where in hell you are, where he’s taking you. This happened time and again when a story already was moving too fast for me to jump off with an oh, this is just too damned weird shrug, and find some Kafka or Lovecraft to calm the nerves.

His seduction starts at the get-go, with words like Ohio and Rust in the title. I heard earnestness there, the clang of labor, hard times, solid heartland humdrum. And then Caves gave me a peek at something unexpected beyond the abandoned factory’s dusty window. A hint of promise, teasing. Beckoning. Eyes wide, curiosity tugging my sleeve, I entered.

Well...Willie Wonka’s chocolate house Caves of the Rust Belt is not. Closer to a step through the looking glass with Wondering Alice. Moments of mystery appear in the commonplace and segue slyly from clever to profound. Involuntary chortles continue to burble from my throat with recalled abrupt comic ironies and turns of phrase, a particular the bawdy chanty gently redacted by dead mariners in deference to the boardinghouse landlady who summoned them from the depths hoping to find her lost son:

Hers is the reason we set out to sea,

And hers is the reason it burns when we pee,

And these are the three things we know to be sure:

A sailor needs tailwinds and whiskey and hers!”

Flashes of brilliance dance among steadier, darker reflections, challenging readers to accept life’s marriage of opposites with its attending happenstance and heartfelt yearnings. Though surprise is a constant in Caves, an occasional story’s title alone reveals enough for either laughter or gravity to cue up at the start. Most often each are in play by the end. Brothers of the Salvageable Crust is one of these. I had no idea what the title means (and still don’t), but somehow it suggested that I pee before reading and avoid sipping a hot beverage during the narrative. Trusting my intuition thus saved me from scalding pain and incontinent shame.

I’m not going to mention every one of the twenty-eight tales in this collection, despite how truly amazing each of them is. In the words of one of our most ludicrously quotable modern Presidents, it wouldn’t be prudent. I won’t be able to sleep tonite, however, if I don’t mention one of the most jaw-droppingly startling, sweetest little pieces I have ever come across. It is titled Mr. Foreclosure. And that is all I shall reveal. If you read nothing else in Caves of the Rust Belt, please please please...Mr. Foreclosure!

Oh, my, yes, and this one (do not be misled by the seemingly silly title—this piece is a definite contendah!): What We Were When We Drew What We Drew. Read it, or I’ll unfriend you forever!

You can skip How Cold Wars End. NO! WAIT! JUST KIDDING! (read it, but use the same precautions you do with Brothers of the Salvageable Crust).

Have tissues nearby when you get to Letter from a Welder’s Son, Unsent. Just in case...um, salt gets in your eyes.

My favorite of them all? That is a really rotten question, but right up there among the top twenty-eight is The Basic Problem with Interior Decoration. I think it’s the longest, too, although the astoundingly brilliant Brothers of the Salvageable Crust stretches out a tad, as well.

I suppose it might aid my credibility were I to use some of the standard critical literary language in discussing this collection, but I’m so uncomfortable with linguistic sophistication I’d likely get some of the requisite terms and phrases ass backwards, doing more harm than good. Maybe Michiko Kakutani can be lured out of retirement to do the honors. I’d kiss her feet if I thought it would work. Caves of the Rust Belt deserves no less.

Joe Kapitan

Clicking over to Joe Kapitan’s Amazon.com page you’re apt to see references to Rust as his “debut” collection. That is a lie. His brief bio there tells us he published an award-winning short-fiction chapbook in 2013. “He began writing short fiction and creative non-fiction in 2009, and has had more than 60 pieces appear online and in print in such venues as The Cincinnati Review, PANK, Wigleaf, Midwestern Gothic, Smokelong Quarterly, Booth and Notre Dame Magazine.”

“Ohio,” he tells us, “is like that weird uncle with the cheesy mustache and outdated clothes; the one who always has the best stories.”

And now we know where “weird uncle” gets those stories. 

 

Barry Ergang 

On the Street Where You Live, from Wednesday's Child, Yiyun Li

 

This story reminded me a lot of the recent movie with Rose Byrne, "IF I HAD LEGS I COULD KICK YOU." It is also about a mother with a troubled child. In this case, her child is autistic and his disease is growing worse. She, and to a lesser extent her husband, is trying to find ways to help him: music lessons, art, etc. He is fearful of being alone in the world yet does nothing to prevent this (though he is only six). The mother is keeping a journal of people she meets that have an oddity too. When a burglar confronts her, she lets him take everything but asks him to return the journal. 

George Kelley 

Kevin Tipple 

Steve Lewis 

Casual Debris 

Short Story Wednesday. "Mother of Men" Lauren Groff from The New Yorker

 Mother of Men

A mother of two teenage sons is having a bathroom added to her house. She's taking her elderly dog for a walk when she spots a man who has been stalking her off and on for years. The police claim there is nothing they can do until he commits a crime. Her house is particularly vulnerable right now since it has a hole where work is proceeding. One night he enters the house and she finds him in her fridge. Luckily her son handles him in a very mature way. This was a scary story. The idea that a stalker can keep returning year after year and the police (Florida) don't help. Her husband isn't much help either. Groff has a new collection coming out next year called BRAWLERS. Looks like she has violence on her mind. 

George Kelley 

Todd Mason 

James Reasoner 

FFB TRIAL AND ERROR, Anthony Berkeley

 (reviewed by Casual Debris in 2012)

 
Its excellent premise is what attracted me to Anthony Berkeley's original, innovative and highly entertaining Trial and Error. Mild-mannered Lawrence Butterfield Todhunter learns that due to an aggressive aneurism he doesn't have much time left on this earth. Wanting to commit a great, humanitarian act before he goes, he throws a dinner party and tosses out a hypothetical, which leads nearly everyone to declare that great can be achieved through murder, so long as the victim is deserving of death. Hence Todhunter decides that before his impending doom he must seek out an appropriate victim and commit this terrible act.

Anthony Berkeley's novel has been out of print for some time, since the late 1960s it appears, with the exception of a small print run in 2001 by House of Stratus. This is a terrible shame because Trial and Error is an excellent read, a unique mystery that reads almost like an epic novel as it spans various significant episodes, each one a small book on its own, from Todhunter's seeking the perfect victim to the murder itself and its eventual trial. The book is split into five parts, each part dealing with a substantial leg in Todhunter's journey. There are a number of twists and I won't reveal anything more about the central plot.

The novel also boasts great characters, dialogue and attention to detail that is simply riveting. The world Berkeley manages to create is very real, and the geography of the various UK locations are clear; we always know where we are and where the settings lie in relation to one another. Moreover, the novel is filled with a good deal of humour despite its premise and its incessant focus on death. Yet what elevates Trial and Error from a good British mystery to a great novel is its notions of absurdity. Throughout the novel is a pervasive sense that despite the high dramatic aspects of life, both selfish and altruistic actions are governed by nothing more than chance; no matter how we strive for control the idea that we can influence destiny, our own or someone else's, is ridiculous. It is clear that the universe has its plans and the minutest element can thrust and thwart our plans in any seemingly random direction. And in the final scene even these ideas are challenged, as Berkeley twists the entire story into something altogether different.

Trial and Error is additionally a success due to its innocuous protagonist. Lawrence Todhunter is barely a character, a simple man with simple ideas, impressionable and easily influenced, harmless in every dimension of his being. While it initially appears that such a character would undoubtedly fail in maintaining interest in any kind of novel, Todhunter succeeds in growing on the reader, not necessarily through his altruism, but through his determination and particularly because he does indeed transform. Not static at all, this Todhunter. Berkeley also risks creating an over-sentimental character, particularly as he is nearing death, and yet does a wonderful job in being direct with his story and avoiding overblown sentimentality.

The novel's only weak point is at the early stage of the trial, when Berkeley feels the need to restate details which the reader is already familiar with. This portion of the work suffers a little in its pacing, but once the cross-examination begins, the writing, particularly the dialogue, is so riveting that we nearly forget the slow progress of the previous thirty or so pages.

Anthony Berkeley's Trial and Error is a rare find that is absolutely worth seeking out

Short Story Wednesday: "League of the Grateful Dead and Other Stories" Day Keene

 (from Cullen Gallagher) 

"League of the Grateful Dead and Other Stories" by Day Keene (2010) - Short Story Wednesday

Editor John Pelan and publisher Ramble House have set out to restore the long obscured history of Day Keene in the pulps, embarking on a multi-volume series inspired by Dennis McMillan's amazing Fredric Brown pulp series. The first volume in their Day Keene in the Detective Pulps series is League of the Grateful Dead and Other Stories. Released in 2010, it gathers eight tales and an insightful introduction by Pelan.

The eight stories in League of the Grateful Dead show classic crime pulp at its finest. Tough-as-nails private eyes navigating twisty (and twisted) capers, engaging in blazing shootouts with ruthless gangsters, and trying to keep their necks out of jail—all while making it home for supper without compromising their wedding vows. They're paced so quickly that it's nearly impossible to keep up or follow all the clues—but it's sure fun trying. While the private eye cases are fabulous and most indicative of Keene's characteristic style, my favorite was actually "Nothing to Worry About," a vicious quickie tale about a husband's plot to murder his wife that features a wicked twist ending.

Fans of Keene will be especially interested in this volume for several reasons. Two of the stories were later expanded into novels. "Marry the Sixth for Murder!" was later turned into the novel Love Me—and Die! (1951, Phantom Books), and "Dance with the Death-House Doll" became half of an Ace double called Death House Doll (1954, Ace). This collection also features two of Keene's series characters: Private Eye Tom Doyle appears in three stories, while another P.I., Matt Mercer, appears in one.

The adaptation of "Marry the Sixth for Murder!" to Love Me—and Die! is a mystery of its own. James Reasoner writes on his blog that, "According to Gil Brewer’s stepdaughter, Brewer ghosted this novel for Keene, expanding one of Keene’s pulp stories to book length. . . . This seems pretty feasible to me. Keene and Brewer were friends, and since Keene was already an established writer as the Fifties began, with more than ten years as a popular pulp author under his belt, I can easily see him farming out this expansion to Brewer." I've yet to read the novel, but I'm looking forward to doing so now that I've read the original story.

Here's a run-down of the stories.

"League of the Grateful Dead" (Dime Mystery Magazine, February 1941) — Mummified corpses are popping up all over Chicago—and some of them had already been dead for weeks! After seeing a B-girl turn into a mummy right before his eyes, journalist Tim Murphy follows her tip and heads to a cemetery to watch a performance by a local con artist calling himself Satan and who claims he can raise the dead.

(And, yes, according to Pelan this is the story that inspired the name of Jerry Garcia's band.)

"As Deep as the Grave" (Detective Tales, January 1946) - Chicago Private Eye Tom Doyle gets a call from a woman offering him $10,000 to kill a man that deserves it. She hangs up before he can find out who. Then he gets held up and taken to notorious gangster Red Faber who offers him $2000 to track down his wife and daughter, whom he abandoned years ago before they could find out about his true identity, in order to leave his daughter a piece of land before he is caught and executed by the state.

"Fry Away Kentucky Babe!" (Detective Tales, December 1947) - Private investigator Tom Doyle has a soft spot for veterans in a jam, seeing as he's a vet himself. So when Larry Reagan's wife pleads with him to look into her husband's case, he agrees. Larry is a journalist accused of murdering his editor, Ernie Jackson, over a dispute about a young woman named Ruby Thiels. As soon as Doyle arrives in Larry's hometown, however, someone takes a shot at him at the train depot, and then a "Mr. Big" calls his hotel and warns him to get out of town. Before he knows it, Doyle is knee-deep in a local organized crime racket.

"Crawl Out of That Coffin!" (Detective Tales, September 1947) - Private Eye Matt Mercer and his wife, Sherry, are grabbing drinks after a performance of Hamlet when a drunken young woman falls into Matt's lap—and with her comes a $10,000 contract to keep her alive for seventeen days until she turns 21 and can collect her multi-million dollar inheritance.

"Marry the Sixth for Murder!" (Detective Tales, May 1948) -- Johnny Slagle is a troubleshooter for Consolidated, a Hollywood studio. He gets a call in the middle of the night from Steve Millet, one of their contract stars, who thinks he killed someone in a hit and run on the night before he is supposed to marry a young actress named Cherry Gamble. When Slagle goes to investigate, there's only a dead dog. Millet thinks he dodged a bullet—but soon enough a body is found, Laura Jean Jones, another aspiring actress who moved to Hollywood hoping to be discovered. It looks like a cut-and-dried case, but when gambler Paul Glade offers $10,000 for Slagle and his wife, Sally, to skip town for a few weeks, Slagle knows there's more to the story.

"Nothing to Worry About" (Detective Tales, August 1945) - Assistant State's Attorney Brad Sorrel has a fool-proof plan to murder his wife: witnesses to prove he's somewhere else, and a planted car so he can sneak away to commit the murder and be back before his alibi is broken. He'll be a free man in half an hour—if only everything goes according to plan.

"Dance with the Death-House Doll" (Detective Tales, May 1945) - Sgt. Mike Duval on vacation leave from military goes to Chicago to visit the widow and child of his brother, who died in WWII. He finds that Mona is in prison and due to be executed in five days, accused of murdering a jeweler, but no jewels were ever recovered, and no mention was ever made of any child. First the cops pick him up and work him over, and then Mona's alleged gangster boyfriend, LaFanti, picks him up and works him over again, and both the cops and LaFanti want to know the same thing: where are the diamonds?

"Dead—as in Mackerel!" (Detective Tales, February 1945) - Private eye Tom Doyle's wife is expected to go into labor at any minute, when into his office walks burlesque dancer Dolly Adoree wearing a mink coat and not much underneath. She offers him $500 to listen to her story, and $20,000 if he takes the case. Mr. X, a wealthy 83-year-old man has offered to leave her $200,000 because she reminds him of his deceased daughter, only Dolly expects that his heirs will challenge this in court, if they don't try to kill her before. But before she can reveal who Mr. X is, Dolly drops dead in Tom's office.

***

George Kelley

TracyK 

Monday, Monday

 

Just started THE DAY OF THE JACKAL (Peacock). I have never seen the movie so I am new to the story. Also watching the new Lynley on PBS, THE PAPER, on Peacock, which I liked moderately. And still making my way through the DOCTOR BLAKE MYSTERIES. I really like that each episode is complete in itself. Nothing to remember the next time. 

Went to a great chamber music concert Saturday night. The Zukerman Trio played piano trios by Mendelssohn and Dvorak. We can get very good seats for $30 at a lovely venue. I also spent a beautiful afternoon walking the riverfront in Detroit, which now extends for more than five miles. Windsor, Canada is on the other side and two bridges and a tunnel connect the two.

It is astounding to compare many areas of Detroit to the way they were twenty years ago. Of course, other areas are still in need of help.  

And what about you?  

Monday, Monday

 It looks like CHINA BEACH is streaming on a new streaming channel called HOWDY, which is $1.99 a month. Some of the original music has been replaced. 

Three great movies. Third was It's Never Over, Jeff Buckley. Who I'd never heard of. Have you? 

Finished the latest season of UNFORGOTTEN, which was good although the third plotline may have been unnecessary. Also finished FISK, which is very funny. 

Still slogging through ANTIDOTE by Karen Russell. Just too long but well-written. Rereading THE HOUSEKEEPER AND THE PROFESSOR for my other book group. 

Beautiful weather here. Can't remember better weather over this weekend. There are a lot of festivals in Detroit area. A huge jazz festival down on the waterfront and and art festival nearby but crowds don't please me anymore. 

Kevin's classes don't start for another few days. Why get them there eight days before when there's nothing to do? And the WI kids probably went home for the holiday weekend.  

What are you up to?  

Monday, Monday

 SORRY, BABY was at only one theater in the Detroit are. It was a good movie about our ability to overcome a "very bad thing" and get on with our lives. THis despite the fact she got no backup on her assault from the police or university. Worth thinking about.

Reading RAISING HARE, by Chloe Dalton. I knew nothing about hares before reading this and it is fascinating. Also reading ABSOLUTION BY Alice McDermott.

Watching PRIME TARGET on Apple. Finished POKER FACE. The second season had some real winning episodes. Could not finish DYING FOR SEX on Hulu.  Still watching the series on the Mitford sisters. What a handful they were. 

What about you?  

 

Short Story Wednesday: "Button, Button" Richard Matheson

"Button, Button", Richard Matheson 

A package arrives at Norma and Arthur Steward's house with a gadget inside with a button on it. Shortly after a man arrives and announces to the couple that if they push the button they will kill someone in the world, and receive $50, 000 in exchange. Norma is intrigued by this, insisting that they are part of an experiment, and nothing will happen if they push the button. Except maybe they would get paid and could do the many things she was longing for. Arthur is repulsed by the idea and by his wife. This is a very well -written story although you will probably guess the ending. This was, of course, on the Twilight Zone. You can watch it on you tube. It was also the plot of the 2009 movie THE BOX.

Steve Lewis 

George Kelley 

Martin Edwards 

Jerry House 

Kevin Tipple 

Monday, Monday

 Megan begins her book tour today. She gets in Detroit on Friday but just for a day. Hoping we get a decent turnout for her. 

Saw two movies this week. THE LIFE OF CHUCK, which I didn't think much of and it hit a little too close to home for comfort.The other was a restoration of THE ANNIHILATION OF FISH with James Earl Jones and Lynn Redgrave. The sound was poor and we struggled to hear it. But it seemed like a nice enough film about old age. 

Ate out way too much this week: Mexican, Turkish, Thai, Thai. I don't dare stand on the scale. 

Reading THE INVISIBLE LIFE OF ADDIE LARUE for a book group. It is very thick. It certainly seems like people like it so maybe I will too.  

Watching DUSTER (Max) STICK (Apple) and OUTRAGEOUS (BritBox) but nothing that really thrills me. I find myself watching compilations of various themes on You tube a lot. FOr instance, the best dancing sequences, the best crime stories. They are inserting anti-abortion commercials in some of them.  

Very hot here. Hope it doesn't last long. 

What are you doing lately?