Fiction, Reviews

‘Cutler’s Friend,’ by Colin Conway

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I like Colin Conway as a writer. One of the things I like about his work is that he generally keeps the politics low-key.

That is not true, however, of Cutler’s Friend, the third volume in his John Cutler series. The author published those first three books early in the 2000s, and the era may be part of the problem. This book is (in my opinion) more suited to the zeitgeist of that decade than to the present.

At the beginning of Cutler’s Friend, John has stabilized his life somewhat. He is now a licensed private investigator in Spokane, and he has a regular girlfriend.

He gets a visit from Mike, his former partner on the Seattle police force. Mike has, John discovers, become a pretty nasty racist, largely because his wife Tina left him for a black professional athlete. John wouldn’t care to do a favor for Mike at this point, but it’s Tina who needs help. Her new husband has been murdered, and she’s been arrested for it. Mike wants John to prove she’s innocent.

As John begins the investigation, the job raises tension with his girlfriend Erika, who is black. She starts discussing racial issues with John, and distancing herself from him. He finally realizes that he has to choose between helping an innocent woman and keeping his girlfriend.

This book pushed all my buttons – negatively. It started with a scene where John is dealing with a guy in a wig and a dress, in which he keeps condemning himself for “prejudice” when he forgets to use “her” preferred pronouns. Then we go on to the scenes with Erika, where the point seems to be that, as a miserable white man, there’s nothing John is allowed to do but kneel in repentance and apologize forever.

This bothered me a lot. Because if that’s the way the races have to relate to one another, it will always be impossible for us love each other, or even to be friends. It’s a formula for eternal racial segregation. I have to believe there’s some better way.

If I weren’t already fond of the series, I’d have dropped it with Cutler’s Friend. But I’m reading on. People learn and grow, and I see no signs of this kind of self-conscious political correctness in Colin Conway’s later work.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Weans,’ by Robert Nathan

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The currency of the Weans consisted of the grand, the fin, the buck, the bit, and the payola.

Ever read a book about archaeology, and wonder how accurate the scholars’ guesses, based on very partial information, are? Robert Nathan had fun with that question in his 1960 short novel, The Weans.

The idea of The Weans is that it’s a book written thousands of years in the future, about what archaeologists have learned in “the Salt Continent” (North America) based on meager findings from their archaeological digs.

Much of the humor rises from the archaeologists’ assumptions. Too many artifacts are assumed to have religious significance, for instance. The book also includes a number of puzzles for the reader, which said reader only figures out gradually (I may have missed a couple, I fear): we wonder why the Americans are known to history as “Weans.” Or why our capitol city is remembered as “Pound-Laundry.”

An amusing book. It contains one gag about underage sex that didn’t age well. But all in all, fun to read.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Cutler’s Chase,’ by Colin Conway

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“What?” I asked.

“You used to be a cop.”

“And?”

“You seem to hate them.”

“I don’t hate them.” I stood. “But I hate who I became while I was one of them. That’s a truth I will never escape.”

The second novel in Colin Conway’s John Cutler series is Cutler’s Chase. This book has him back in Spokane, where he’s working as a nightclub bouncer. He’s flirting with a woman who likes him, but he’s afraid to get close to her because he’s sure she’s bound to reject him in the end. And he’s found a friend in a guy in a neighboring apartment, a retired Marine.

There is a murder, and Cutler finds himself, uncharacteristically, taking on a responsibility – for the murder victim’s dog. He’s certain who the killer is, and he won’t listen to the decent detective who asks him to stand aside and let them do their job. He gets in a lot of fights. There’s a major plot twist at the end (which I have to say I saw coming).

But Cutler’s Chase was a good book, and not as dark as the first book in the series. I recommend it.

Bookselling, Fiction

A Skjalg Erlingsson story

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I hope you’ll be happy to learn that I’ve just published a story related to the Erling Skjalgsson saga. The Buried Farm is a tale about Erling’s son Skjalg, and deals with the lead-up to the ill-fated Norwegian invasion of England in 1066 under King Harald Hardrada.

I submitted this story to a proposed anthology of stories about the Battle of Stamford Bridge. The editors did not select it, but told me kindly that their reasons had to do with their chosen approach to the topic, and not with the quality of my wordsmithing.

So I figured my readers might like to read it as a stand-alone. It’ll only cost you a buck.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Bite Back,’ by George Prior

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Casey Stafford is the police detective hero of a series by George Prior. Bite Back is the third book in the series. Casey is a smart Los Angeles cop, distinguished by the nice suits he wears.

The assignment in this story is a high-profile murder. A female newspaper reporter has been stabbed to death. The killing was caught by a security camera, but the killer was wearing a motorcycle helmet and can’t be identified. The press is, naturally, paying close attention.

Casey and his woman partner check out the stories the victim has been working on, but she was mostly a human interest writer. However, when they discover she was looking into puppy mills and dog fighting, they follow that trail into a dark world of greed, cruelty, and Mexican mafia connections.

I’m not sure why I didn’t like Bite Back more than I did. Author Prior does a good job with characters and dialogue. Even his villains are faceted and human. The police procedural elements seem realistic. The story goes so far as to include a feel-good Boy and His Dog subplot (caution – there’s also a lot of very dark material about animal abuse).

But it all seemed to me kind of lightweight. That can’t be because I don’t like an optimistic detective, because I like Alan Lee’s upbeat stories very much. So I can’t reasonably defend giving this book a negative review, and I won’t. Bite Back was pretty good. You might enjoy it quite a lot, if you can handle the animal cruelty sections.

Non-fiction, Reviews

‘Crockett,’ by Buddy Levy

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Patience and compromise were two necessities for political success at the highest levels, and Crockett would never possess either.

I am, and will always be, I expect, fascinated by the American legend of “Davy” Crockett. The “Crockett Craze,” sparked by a three-episode series on Walt Disney’s television show, exploded on the scene just at the time when I was becoming aware of the world around me. The image of actor Fess Parker in his coonskin cap and buckskins remains etched on my mind. This memory I share with many other Baby Boomers. I think each of the several books I’ve read previously about Crockett’s life have been presented in the form of a sort of dialogue with my generation’s memories of that cultural moment.

But we Boomers are passing from the scene, and it’s time for a book that handles the life of Col. David Crockett, bear hunter and Tennessee congressman, more or less from scratch. Which is what Buddy Levy’s Crockett: The Real-Life Adventures of the Frontier Legend does. Disney does not appear on stage until the mop-up chapters at the end.

Viewed historically, the 1950s Crockett Craze was a second act. Crockett was America’s (perhaps the world’s) first celebrity in the modern sense – a person made famous by the media. A rising population of literate common people was hungry for a hero with whom they could identify. And Crockett, an unpolished, definitely not wealthy congressman from the ragged western edge of the republic, filled the bill perfectly. He had sufficient credentials as a wilderness hunter and army scout to provide the bare bones for a legend, and his rustic wit and braggadocio always made him good newspaper copy.

Author Levy has organized sometimes meager documentary evidence, presenting it along with Crockett’s own (generally pretty reliable) autobiography to recount the man’s story in a fascinating and sympathetic way. He believes (as some historians doubt) that Crockett was sincere in his opposition to Pres. Jackson’s removal of the Native American tribes – certainly prejudice (which sprang from cruel warfare on both sides) caused most of his fellow settlers to hate the tribes generally, but it’s also true that Crockett had fought alongside friendly Indians during the Creek War, and some of their race had saved his life on at least one occasion. (He does gloss over Crockett’s slave-holding, though). He affirms the traditional account of Crockett’s execution at the Alamo, though a footnote mentions that there are contrary views.

All in all, I found Crockett a very readable and fascinating account of a remarkable American life. I do recommend it.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Mr. Whittle and the Morning Star,’ by Robert Nathan

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What had he thought about at that age? – at eighteen, at nineteen? Life . . . . the leap of spirit, like a salmon bent upstream, the wish blown into the wind like dandelion seed . . . . the shaken heart, the running joy . . . . And what was he thinking about now?

Death.

Some Robert Nathan books are heavy on the fantasy. Others downplay that element, or omit it almost entirely. Mr. Whittle and the Morning Star is one of that latter group. It’s a literary story that borders on earth-bound fable.

The time is 1947. The war is over, but a consumer goods shortages persist. The thrill of victory has subsided, while everyone worries increasingly about the atomic bomb.

Robert Whittle, a mild-mannered college professor, is suddenly absolutely convinced that the world about to end. Very soon. He mentions this to his family, to his friends, to his classes. He states it flatly to a ladies’ group that has asked him for a lecture. The ladies are not pleased.

When his wife Amanda learns of this, she’s very upset. She’s been a good wife and mother. She appreciates her standing in the community. Why would Robert make them a laughingstock this way? Her distress leads her to seek comfort with their best friends, and she finds herself kissing the husband.

Robert happens to see that kiss. He rebounds into the arms of an attractive student – they see a movie together and kiss too. But he does not want this girl. He wants his marriage. For him, the world has indeed ended.

But has it?

The only fantasy element in Mr. Whittle and the Morning Star is a couple conversations Mr. Whittle has with God – but we understand this God to be just his own imagination of the deity. The novel seemed to me to be a sort of a thought exercise, a way of contemplating our lives and our mortality and the things we value most.

Mr. Whittle and the Morning Star does not leave us with a moral. But it’s an intriguing story.

Blogs, Socials, The Press

For your Spectation

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Photo credit: Paris Bilal. Unsplash license.

After a long hiatus, I am once again featured at The American Spectator. My essay, ‘Defending “Adequate” Humans Against AI,’ is found here.

There’s a whole realm of life that belongs to the Adequate. Good enough for the general public. That’s the realm where most of us live, and where skilled workers used to learn their crafts.

In the AI future, infinite goods will be produced, but who will buy those goods? Where will the consumer acquire purchasing power, when both manual and mental labor have been automated? At what point will our AI masters decide that the human being, like Ned Ludd the weaver or Lars the script translator, is a downward drag on the bottom line?

Fiction, Reviews

‘Summer Lightning,’ by P.G. Wodehouse

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‘It stands to reason.’

‘You don’t really think so?’

‘Of course I think so. Have you forgotten what I told you the other day?’

‘Yes,’ said Lord Emsworth. He always forgot what people told him the other day.

Not long ago I reviewed P. G. Wodehouse’s Something New, which I described, more or less, as a Blandings Castle book in embryonic form. Most of the classic elements were present, but the author had not yet worked out the possibilities.

Summer Lightning is considered the third Blandings novel. (I’ve skipped Number 2, Leave It to Psmith, because I have to admit I just don’t like Psmith much.) Now we’re getting closer to the full flowering.

The complex plot centers on two pairs of sundered lovers. The first are Hugo Carmody, a languid young man currently shirking his duties as the Earl of Emsworth’s secretary (which pleases the earl; he doesn’t want to be bothered anyway) and Millicent Threepwood, the earl’s niece. Lady Constance, the earl’s sister and effective autocrat of the castle, would never countenance Millicent marrying a commoner, so they’re trying to figure out a way to gain the earl’s favor and overrule her. The second couple consist of Ronnie Fish, a nephew to the earl, and Sue Brown, a pretty and sweet chorus girl. Their union is also disapproved, and their relationship is complicated by Ronnie’s hair-trigger jealousy.

The plot centers on Hugo’s bright idea of stealing the Empress of Blandings, Lord Emsworth’s beloved, prize-winning fat pig, and then pretending to discover its hiding place, restoring it to its owner, and claiming the reward of wedding approval. Another major issue is the memoir the earl’s brother Galahad Threepwood is writing. Because of his thoroughly scandalous youth in the 1890s and his excellent memory, his book promises to bring public scandal on some of the most prominent and respectable people in the country. What ensues is a lot of scurrying about in bushes, jumping out of windows, and smuggling of the pig from hiding place to hiding place.

I was particularly struck by the role played here by the Efficient Baxter, Lord Emsworth’s former secretary, who is obsessed with dethroning Hugh Carmody and getting his old job back. Baxter was present in Something New, but did nothing notable there. Now he’s a main villain in the piece, loathed by the earl. It’s rather unjust, really. Baxter is by all accounts a very good secretary who only wishes to do his job well. His great sin in Wodehouse’s world is that he’s No Fun. We enjoy seeing him humiliated, because he threatens to bring reality into the comedy.

Summer Lightning (published in 1929) is not Wodehouse at the peak of his powers, and it’s not as quotable as his later works. But it’s plenty of fun and (spoiler alert) everybody we care about lives happily ever after.

Authors, Fiction, Reading, Reviews

My top ten mystery list

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Photo credit, Getty Images via Unsplash license.

Today is my birthday. Don’t ask which one. If anybody out there wants a birthday, you can have one of mine. I have a lot more than I need.

My friend Hunter Baker, of North Greenville University, has given tongue to the voice of multitudes, thus: “When, oh when,” those multitudes ask, “will Lars Walker offer a Top Ten list of his favorite mystery novels?”

To which I reply, “Why would anybody care what my favorite mystery novels are?”

Nevertheless, the challenge has been delivered, and I shall endeavor to give satisfaction.

First, some clarifications.

This list is not, and does not purport to be, an actual list of Best Books. There are whole swathes (I’ve grown uncertain how to pronounce that word: I’ve always rhymed it with “moths,” but other people rhyme it was “lathes.” Most troubling) of the mystery genre which I’ve rarely or never tried. Especially in the Cozy vein. Many passionate (sometimes frightening) people are devoted to Cozies; I haven’t got the nerve to laugh at them. I’ll just note that Cozy is not my cuppa arsenic-laced tea and, having writ, move on.

Agatha Christie remains, I believe, the most popular mystery writer in the world. I’ve read some Christie, but was not won over. Her focus is on the puzzle, not on the characters. Her readers delight in following clues and trying to figure out whodunnit before the Big Reveal at the end.

Me, I gave up solving mysteries long ago. On the rare occasions when I’m able to outthink the sleuth in a story, it’s usually because the author tipped his/her hand through trying to misdirect me in some way, and I caught him/her at it. I’m a better storyteller than a detective.

I read mysteries mostly to live vicariously through the characters and to observe them acting in extreme situations. I am not a man of action; I’ve managed to cram, I’d estimate, ten or twelve years of living into my three-score and several years of life.

With all this understood, here’s my Top Ten list. Purely personal, biased and subjective. Delivered with no authority whatever.

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Book Reviews, Creative Culture