All posts by Lars Walker

‘The Faded Map,’ by Alistair Moffat

One of the most outstanding figures of the Dark Ages was St Adomnan. Much more than merely the biographer of St Columba, he was a politician and intellectual of considerable power. Perhaps his most notable initiative was the Law of the Innocents. At the Synod of Birr in central Ireland held in 697, he proposed that women, children and clergy be protected  from the brutal realities of Dark Ages warfare. Nothing else like it had been promulgated in Europe.

I bought Alistair Moffat’s The Faded Map on a sort of a whim. It’s not directly related to my central interests, but it seemed intriguing, and it relates to all that Arthurian stuff I’ve always been drawn to. And I’ve got to say, the book proved to be more than I hoped. Fascinating stuff, and written in a lively style.

“The principal focus of this book is failure,” the author writes. The subject is what we currently know as lowland Scotland and northern England, which until the early medieval period was generally occupied and ruled by British Gaels related to the Welsh. Threatened by Picts and Scots from the north, Anglo-Saxons from the south and east, and eventually Vikings (though they made shifting alliances with all these groups as circumstances dictated), these kingdoms were gradually pushed back and subsumed, so that their southern territories became parts of British Northumbria and their northern territories parts of Scotland.

The story is a fascinating one (at least to me), as it touches on much legendary material, and provides perspective on the Viking Age at the end. I was particularly gratified that the author entirely subscribes to the historical view endorsed by Prof. Titlestad in his (wonderfully translated) book, Viking Legacy, that ancient legend and poetry ought to be considered (cautiously) by historians:

But why should word of mouth be more untrustworthy than a written source? Who would rely on the British tabloid newspapers of the last thirty years as an honest record of anything? The bards of the fifth, sixth, and seventh centuries are to be trusted no less – and no more – than the scribes of the same period.

In short, I found The Faded Map a delight to read. Highly recommended.

Waldorf salad

Salvesen Hall at Waldorf University. In my day, the library was on the ground floor at the left end, and in the cellar below.

So I did it. I went back to the college of which (out of the three I attended) I have the fondest memories, Waldorf College (now University) in Forest City, Iowa. It was Homecoming weekend, and they had an “authors’ fair” featuring four published authors who’d attended the school. I was the oldest of the lot, the Historical Footnote, you might say.

It turned out to be a fairly small affair, with maybe thirty people in attendance. The venue was a room in the new library (which looked pretty swanky to an old book gnome who used to toil in the former digs in the cellar of Salvesen Hall). We sat at a table at the front, and each of us got to do a 15-minute reading. Then there was a general Q&A session, and a time for bookselling. I read Chapter 15 of The Year of the Warrior, where Erling Skjalgsson meets Olaf Trygvesson as their ice-covered ships pass in the Boknafjord.

Two of my fellow authors were quite young, the third middle-aged but a recent graduate of the school’s Creative Writing program. That put me in the odd (to me) position of being the Grizzled Professional. A lot of the questions were directed to me as the one with the most experience of the publishing business. Although – as I took pains to point out – most of my experience is from another age and no longer applicable, except in spirit.

I hope I didn’t act like too much of an ass. Everybody was nice to me, but this is Iowa so that tells you nothing.

I sold a fair number of books for the size of the crowd, and received a handsome purple insulated cup with the school logo, from which I am drinking now, as a gift. Also an alumni sticker for my car.

The weather was glorious – bright sun and temperatures in the upper 70s, very clement for Iowa in late October. I hadn’t been back to Waldorf for decades (Christiania College in Wolf Time was modeled on it), and I was a little disoriented. First of all, the place looks smaller now than it did when I was 18. And they’ve changed a fair number of things. New buildings have been built, a reflecting pool has been dug by the Campus Center, and I had some trouble at first getting my bearings. Also, certain things are gone now, such as the World War II-era temporary classrooms where I studied Norwegian (I think I parked in that space, though I may be a few yards off).

I wanted to take time to do a walk-around, but didn’t get around to it. And it doesn’t really matter – it’s not the same school. It’s owned by new people and has a whole different mission. I came as the Ghost of Christmas Past, and I exited stage right when my scene was done.

There are no Gaelic yes-men.

I’m currently reading a book of history, The Faded Map by Alistair Moffat. It’s about ancient Scotland. In it I found this passage, which is of particular interest when considering the English language, which is spoken by so many of our readers.

Scots Gaelic is not like English, German or any of the Latin-based languages of southern Europe. There is no word for yes or for no. If a Gaelic speaker asks A bheil an t’acras ort? (‘Are you hungry?’), the answers use the verb forms Tha (‘I am’) or Chaneil (‘I am not’). This makes for greater precision and clearer understanding on either side of a question.

In other words, one of my grandfather’s favorites jokes would have been impossible if he’d been a Gael. If somebody asked Grandpa a question of choice, like, “Would you like apple or blueberry pie?” Grandpa would answer, “Yes.” Taking advantage, as you see, of the ambiguity of our English usage. (And possibly getting himself more pie.)

Languages evolve to deal with universal and localized communication problems, but they solve them in different ways. No language is superior to any other.

Except for English, of course. English is the best. Sure, it’s irrational in many ways, but that’s just to keep the riffraff out.

Also, Norwegian is pretty good.

Going public

Above, something I’ve never seen before – a clip of John D. MacDonald giving a speech. He reminisces on his struggling years as a writer. The advice here is still good in terms of a writer’s attitude, but happily we don’t have to worry about the condition of returned manuscripts anymore. Say what you like about digital publishing, but you can’t deny the pages are always just as pristine, however many times you send them out. Any blemishes are likely to be grammatical, and your own stinking fault.

One thing I’ve rarely done in my long but obscure career  as a writer is give a public reading of my work. I’ve done a few signings – generally a harrowing and not very rewarding experience, but only a few readings. Which is odd when you think of it, because I’m good at that. Radio and acting experience, as I’ve mentioned more often than necessary.

But I’m going to be doing a reading on Saturday. It’s Homecoming time at Waldorf University, Forest City, Iowa, one of my several alma maters. Waldorf is special to me, because it was the first college I attended. They’re doing an authors’ forum, featuring several Waldorf graduates who write books. I’ll be one of them. I’m supposed to do a 15-minute reading, and then there’ll be a question-and-answer period, and we’ll have the chance to sell our books.

Consequently, I won’t be blogging on Friday, since I’ll be traveling that day. We appreciate your patience, and thank you for flying Brandywine Books.

‘The Good Client,’ by Dan Decker

Mitch Turner is a criminal defense lawyer, I’m not sure where (either author Dan Decker didn’t say, or I just didn’t notice). His practice is new, but he’s aggressive and doing well for himself.

As The Good Client begins, Mitch gets a call in the middle of the night from his office intern, Timothy Cooper. Mitch hasn’t been impressed with Timothy’s work. He considers him too shy and nerdy to ever succeed in criminal law. But now Timothy is knee deep in a criminal case of his own. His roommate, he says, has been shot to death, and the police are there. He thinks they suspect him of the crime. Mitch instructs him to say nothing more to the cops; he’ll be right over.

He finds that the police have, indeed, already homed in on Timothy as the killer. No one else was in the apartment, and there are no signs of forced entry. It isn’t long before Timothy is arrested, and Mitch has his investigator looking into the young man’s movements that night. This proves harder than expected — Timothy proves to be an uncooperative, and surprisingly temperamental, client. Also, his parents are strangely unsupportive, and they start looking suspicious in their own right. But that makes no sense – would they frame their own son? Mitch discovers evidence the police overlooked, which both surprises him and puts him in an ethical dilemma. The evidence is damaging to his own case, but professional ethics force him to turn it over anyway.

The whole thing is complicated – and somewhat improbable, in my view. Some of the legal and police actions taken strike me as implausible (of course, I’m not a lawyer). The final solution also seemed like a stretch, though the culprit was no big surprise.

The book wasn’t terrible. The writing was okay, with only minor syntax errors compared to most books I see nowadays. But it lacked spark. The characters seemed kind of dull (nobody had a sense of humor).

On the plus side, the occasional mentions of religion were fairly positive. No major cautions are needed for language or sexual content.

I’m on the bubble on this one.

For your Spectation

I have once again gathered up my hubris and sent an essay to The American Spectator. And once again, for unaccountable reasons, they have published it.

Honestly, I’m kind of proud of this one. It’s more upbeat than my usual stuff, and shows the influence of my recent Dave Barry reading.

It’s called “Liberals On the Border.”

‘Choices,’ by Scott W. Cook

I finally finished this book. I can’t have enjoyed Scott W. Cook’s Choices a whole lot, because I sure found it easy to put it down. But on the other hand, I kept with it to the end, which must mean something.

Apparently, Scott Jarvis is an established Florida private eye character (there are a lot of those; John D. MacDonald left a great big void in his wake), and Choices is the first book Cook wrote about the character. But it wasn’t published until now (I can see the reasons). Nevertheless, he’s worked it over now and released it as a prequel.

It… still needs work.

Scott Jarvis is a police detective in Orlando, Florida. He has high ideals about making the world a better place (the author goes on an on about this), and is frustrated by the legal limitations the job places on him. Finally, after he’s badly wounded and a vicious gangster gets released, he accepts friends’ advice and goes into business as a private investigator. In time, this gives him the opportunity to go after that same gangster in a big way, from a different angle.

The plot of Choices is pretty far-fetched, in my opinion. Jarvis gets away with a lot of stuff that I’m pretty sure wouldn’t go in the real world (including taking a couple of the classic Hollywood shoulder wounds without being permanently disabled). He carries a “silenced” Colt 1911 .45, which will make gun guys laugh. The text includes a number of textual errors such as mistaken homophones and missing section breaks. And sometimes the author forgets he’s writing in first person and slides into third.

But the biggest problem is a simple beginner’s problem, one most authors make and get over. Cook overwrites. He tells us things multiple times. He explains what he means too much. He likes to say someone “quipped” this or that, when it’s not really a quip, and you shouldn’t have to explain that to the audience anyway. If you want the audience to know it’s a joke, make it a better joke – don’t explain to them how they ought to be amused.

Still, I thought there were signs of good writing here. I might read the next book, to see if the author has learned anything.

Theodor Kittelsen

I’m still not making much progress on the book I’m reading, so I have another non-review post tonight.

The video above is just a brief introduction to my favorite Norwegian artist, Theodor Kittelsen (1857-1914). Among his famous accomplishments was illustrating Asbjørnsen & Moe’s collection of Norwegian fairy tales, along with Erik Werenskiold. Werenskiold did some excellent work, but I always felt Kittelsen possessed that little extra spark of creative genius. In some ways he was ahead of his time, graphically.

He is generally considered the man who crystalized the Norwegian conception of the troll. As you’ll see in the video.

‘Mountain Greenery’

I have nothing to review today. That leaves me with no alternative to writing about stuff I’ve been thinking about – and that, as you know, can get weird.

Tonight’s subject, to take an example at random, is “broken rhyme.” You can find several examples of broken rhyme in the song, “Mountain Greenery,” by Rodgers and Hart, embedded above (the song was debuted on Broadway by the actor Sterling Holloway, who would live long enough to be the original voice of Winnie the Pooh in the Disney cartoons). A meme is going around Basefook where somebody asks to quote the greatest line from any song, ever. I haven’t responded to it yet, but when I do it’ll be:

We could get no keener re- 
ception in a beanery 
Bless our mountain greenery home!

That, my friends, is broken rhyme. At first I thought it was “enjambment,” and I prepared a long disquisition on that subject for this post, but then I found out enjambment is something else, so I cut that part. All in all, probably for the best.

Lorenz Hart was known for using broken rhyme in his songs. Cole Porter employs it in his song, “I Get a Kick Out of You,” where you have the lines (in the original, unexpurgated version):

Some get a kick from cocaine
I'm sure that if
I took even one sniff
That would bore me terrif-
Ically, too
Yet, I get a kick out of you

I’ve always been fascinated by broken rhyme. Love those word tricks in verse. It’s one of the reasons contemporary popular music leaves me cold. Today’s lyrics are generally simplistic, intended to be yelled. That’s why I like the old songs. There’s a station in St. Cloud, Minnesota (Uptown 1010, Ring-a-Ding Radio) that I make a point of listening to, every time I drive north on I-94. All oldies, with an emphasis on Sinatra and the crooners. Songs with lyrics worth paying attention to.

I could move on to the subject of Contemporary Christian Worship Music, but I think you can guess my opinion on that.

‘Righteous Prey,’ by John Sandford

Four cars were parked in a line, with two side-by-side overhead doors: a gunmetal gray Lexus SUV, a red Ferrari, a black Mercedes SUV, and a reddish-orange Porsche Carrera Turbo. A group of cops were discussing whether the Ferrari and the Porsche should be seized as evidence, and if so, who’d get to drive them to the impound lot.

I’ve been a big fan of John Sandford’s exciting and amusing “Prey” series for a good percentage of its long history (the hero, Lucas Davenport, would be retired and out of action long ago in real life, but fiction permits active employment for the life of the author [at least]). Today, hero Lucas Davenport, long with the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, is sort of a freelance US Marshal. He gets to work on only the jobs that interest him, due to his immense personal wealth and Washington connections. In Righteous Prey, he teams up (again) with his buddy Virgil Flowers, who’s still in the BCA, to deal with a domestic murder ring.

One thing I’ve always appreciated in the series is the author’s ability to set aside his personal politics (which I’m pretty sure must be far to the left of mine) and present fairly balanced pictures of conservatives and liberals. And he’s generally avoided controversial subjects.

This book is less evenhanded, though I’m sure he made an effort.

What’s happening here is that a group of anonymous individuals, all of them Bitcoin billionaires, have formed a group called “the Five.” Their purpose is to kill “a**holes” (hereinafter to be called “targets” in this review). People they consider evil, who do only harm to the world, and who are personally hateful. Each of them will kill one of the five targets, after which they will distribute a news release, and then make a generous donation to some charitable organization whose work counteracts whatever harm they think the target has done.

When one target is murdered in Minneapolis, Lucas and Virgil get involved. They’ll be traveling around the country playing catch-up with these billionaire killers, and it will all culminate in a running fight in Long Island, New York.

Generally, Sandford is as evenhanded as usual. He does one thing that’s uncharacteristic, though, if my recollection of the previous books is correct. He throws in a message this time – the evils of bump stocks.

Now, I’ll confess I’m pretty ignorant about bump stocks. No personal experience. The sources I’ve read have generally defended them, saying they really don’t translate into anything drastically new and lethal. But the way Sandford describes them, they turn an AR rifle into the equivalent of a tommy gun, spraying death all around, turning a lone gunman into a one-man commando team against whom the police are helpless.

I don’t know. I’m skeptical.

Other points of interest – Virgil is now writing a novel, and he complains that he “only” expects an advance of $2,500.00 or so. This proves John Sandford lives in a different universe than the one I’m in.

I believe I read he no longer lives in Minneapolis. One piece of evidence for that development is that he thinks the Bakers Square in Highland Park is still open. Sadly, it closed down forever, early in the Lockdown.

There’s a vile conservative talk show host in the story, who may be very loosely based on the late Rush Limbaugh. However, he’s such a caricature that I found it hard take offense. Liberals, no doubt, will think the portrait spot on.

On the plus side, there’s a Travis McGee reference.

Recommended, except that strong gun rights activists probably won’t like it. Cautions for foul language and violence.