Shock Wave, by John Sandford

John Sandford is a darned good mystery/thriller writer, and more than a one-note performer. While the Lucas Davenport “Prey” novels that made his fortune continue to draw readers, he’s added a second, related series character, Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension investigator Virgil Flowers, who looks like a surfer boy, practices journalism as a sideline, and is pretty successful with the ladies (which explains the obscene nickname his colleagues use on him, which I won’t share here).

The Flowers books have a different flavor from the “Prey” books. They’re mostly set in rural Minnesota, and as you’d expect the crimes are generally more conventional, with less sociopathy and sadism.

I have to commend Sandford particularly for the way he handles politics in these books. If I were a lefty or a greenie, I might consider him a sellout (my spider sense tells me he’s a lefty in real life), but he passes by all kinds of opportunities to treat conservatives as idiots or monsters. In Shock Wave, his characters are well-rounded, credible, and generally sympathetic. Even Willard Pye, founder and CEO of “PyeMart” (obviously a stand in for Walmart), is not a caricature but a believable guy who has his own story.

The first crime is a bombing in the board room of PyeMart’s headquarters in Michigan, but when a second fatal bombing occurs at a building site for a new store in Butternut Falls, Minnesota, Virgil Flowers is called in to coordinate with the ATF and local police. The investigators figure there are two possible motives—environmental radicalism, or fear for their livelihood by local businessmen. Virgil and his allies set to work examining evidence and assembling lists of suspects (at one point by a radically novel method), and before long it looks like they must be getting close, because Virgil himself becomes a target.

Shock Wave is exciting, engaging, well-crafted, and politically even-handed. Setting aside the usual foul language and sexual themes, I recommend it pretty highly.

The Faithful’s Political Views

Gene Veith talks about Thomas Kidd’s analysis of a new class of American evangelicals who don’t hold the water for the GOP because of their evangelical worldview. Kidd writes:

These paleo evangelicals keep the Republican party at arm’s length for three main reasons:

  1. A deep suspicion of American civil religion
  2. [Diminished] hope in any political party doing that much good in this world
  3. Problems with certain Republican positions

But on some of the most compelling issues, the Republican Party still seems like the best option for many paleos.

I think Kidd has hit the dead head on the money nail. I might even call myself a paleo evangelical, but I’ve never keep the GOP at arm’s length, because I believe they are the current best option for reforming our government.

The Fall of Arthur, a New Epic Poem

“Arthur eastward in arms purposed

his war to wage on the wild marches,

over seas sailing to Saxon lands,

from the Roman realm ruin defending.”

Thus begins a new epic poem by the beloved author of The Lord of the Rings. What’s that, you ask? How can write a new poem when he’s been dead since 1973? Bah! What is death among friends?

Myth-information

Here’s a nice list by Rebecca Winther-Sørensen over at Listverse—10 Creatures in Scandinavian Folklore.

It intrigued me, aside from its intrinsic interest, because out of the ten creatures listed, fully five are found in my e-novel, Troll Valley. Miss Margit, the fairy godmother, is a huldra. Nisser are referenced in connection with Christmas (though I personalize the Santa Claus-like julenisse more than this list does). There’s a troll in the title, if not in the actual story (and I’ll count it because this is my list). A Nøk (Norwegian spelling) makes an appearance, and Bestefar recalls seeing a draug.

All this is just proof that if you haven’t read it, you must buy it now. If you don’t own an e-reader, buy one of those and then get Troll Valley. If you read the Amazon reviews, you’ll see that one of my many intelligent, good-looking fans recently did just that.

D’Scandal of D’Souza

Oh bother. Another scandal among evangelicals (although the principal figure here is actually a Catholic, I believe). It involves Dinesh D’Souza, bestselling author and current president of The King’s College in New York City, which is owned by Campus Crusade for Christ. World Magazine reports:

About 2,000 people gathered on Sept. 28 at First Baptist North in Spartanburg, S.C., to hear high-profile Christians speak on defending the faith and applying a Christian worldview to their lives. Among the speakers: Eric Metaxas, Josh McDowell, and—keynote speaker for the evening—best-selling author, filmmaker, and Christian college president Dinesh D’Souza.

D’Souza’s speech earned him a standing ovation and a long line at the book-signing table immediately afterward. Although D’Souza has been married for 20 years to his wife, Dixie, in South Carolina he was with a young woman, Denise Odie Joseph II, and introduced her to at least three people as his fiancée.

When event organizer Tony Beam confronted D’Souza about sharing a hotel room with Joseph, he learned that D’Souza had filed for divorce (that very day, as it turned out), and that he felt he’d done nothing wrong.

I first read this story at Anthony Sacramone’s Strange Herring blog, where Sacramone asked the reasonable question, “What was he thinking?”

But the question that occurs to me is a different one. It seems to me we see this sort of thing more and more, not only among “Christian celebrities,” but among ordinary Christian leaders in local churches. And I get the impression that, for a lot of younger Christians, it’s just not a big deal anymore. The world’s attitude toward sex seems to be taking over. “Everybody does it. No big deal. As long as we’re in love.” It’s no surprise many Christian youth from good churches have no problem with the issue of gay marriage. They don’t even see the point of waiting until marriage.

I’m old, and I know I’m the more bitter sort of puritan. But still I see this as a sign of spiritual death. In my mind, I’m seeing what Revelation describes as “the lampstand being taken away.”

Can Journalists Be Objective (In the Way They Define It)?

Glenn Greenwald writes:

In fact, one could reasonably make the case that those whose thinking is shaped by unexamined, unacknowledged assumptions are more biased than those who have consciously examined and knowingly embraced their assumptions, because the refusal or inability to recognize one’s own assumptions creates the self-delusion of unbiased objectivity, placing those assumptions beyond the realm of what can be challenged and thus leading one to lay claim to an unearned authority steeped in nonexistent neutrality.

Greenwald discusses objectivity in light of the vice-presidential debate.

Mantis, by Richard LaPlante

One of the benefits of the e-book revolution for authors is the opportunity it gives them to bring out-of-print books to the public again, and wring a little new income (and attention) out of works the publishers have abandoned, sometimes for fairly shortsighted reasons.

That seems to be the case with Richard LaPlante’s 1993 novel, Mantis, which launched a series starring Philadelphia police detective Bill Fogarty and forensic scientist (and martial arts expert) Josef Tanaka.

The set-up is interesting. Fogarty and Tanaka, though different in ages and cultural heritages, have many similarities. Fogarty is burdened with guilt over the deaths of his wife and daughter in an auto accident when he was driving—an accident which left him with burn scars on his face. Tanaka is haunted by the memory of permanently paralyzing his older brother, whom he idolized, in a tournament competition. They are drawn together in the hunt for a serial killer—a deeply twisted martial arts expert who believes himself to be guided by the spirit of the praying mantis.

The writing is good, the characters strong. Author LaPlante seems to be attempting to do the Hannibal Lector thing here, creating a villain at once evil and sympathetic. Frankly, that part didn’t really work for me. I felt sorry for what I read of the killer’s childhood sufferings, but his cruelty was so perverse, his inhumanity so profound, that I lost interest in him.

There was also an element rare in conventional thrillers—a supernatural, psychic side to the story. I’m old-fashioned enough about my mystery stories to generally resent the introduction of the supernatural. If I want magic, I’ll go to the fantasy aisle.

On the other hand, the story has a fairly strong moral center. It is made clear that both Fogarty and Tanaka go wrong when they allow their passions to push them over the line of legality in their investigation. Though that line gets crossed again, come to think of it, in the story’s climax.

To wrap it up, I didn’t enjoy the book as much as I hoped to, and wished it over well before the end. I wouldn’t call it a waste of your money at the price, but I can’t recommend it wholeheartedly. Cautions for language, sex, and deep perversion.

Rainy Norway

Been there and back again, by which I mean my trip to Norway, Michigan for the Leif Erikson festival. I scrounged a ride with my friends Ragnar and Helen once more, not being entirely sanguine about taking Mrs. Hermanson on long trips just now. I got up at 5:00 a.m. on Friday to be ready to be picked up. The weather was beautiful, the state of Wisconsin still retaining some of its autumn glory.

It was obvious from the start that the organizers had learned from their first year experience, and were doing an even better job of organizing their festival. We participated in a “Viking Funeral Feast” in a school gymnasium Friday evening, where we were more or less the guests of honor (in costume, of course).

The funeral was purportedly for some guy name Eldywick (don’t ask me where the name came from; it was new to me). Before the program the planner showed Denny a sheet of Viking riddles she’d like somebody to read, and Denny immediately passed it to me, knowing where the ham was to be found amidst the eggs.

My piece was supposedly a speech by “Tor,” Eldywick’s friend. I was to reminisce on how much he’d enjoyed riddles, and then pose four (most of them real Viking riddles, a la Tolkien) to the assembled diners.

With the instinct of the born show-off, I immediately knew exactly how to do this part. I adopted a serious Scandinavian accent (as opposed to the burlesque accent I use when I tell Ole and Lena jokes), and spoke in sonorous, overdramatic tones with broad gestures. The audience ate it up, and I got a good dose of that crowd feedback that is an actor’s meat and drink. Continue reading Rainy Norway