Friday Fight!
Did their mothers never tell them they could poke an eye out with those sticks?
Friday Fight!
Did their mothers never tell them they could poke an eye out with those sticks?
Over at The American Culture, where my byline can occasionally be seen, scholar Curt Evans has posted two essays on the “Golden Age” of English mystery writing, refuting the common view that a few female authors are all you need to know about the period. He has posted a two-part essay, here and here, entitled “The British Golden Age of Detection’s Deposed Crime Kings”:
All four of the Crime Queens have been in print in paperback every decade since, while most of their male Golden Age contemporaries languished after their deaths.
It makes sense, then, that the idea of four Crime Queens has solidified over the last sixty years. Even so, this notion is chronologically ahistorical. Not until the very tail end of the Golden Age, or even just after, about 1938-1941, can all four Crime Queens truly have been said to have risen to dominance in the world of British crime fiction. Even Christie and Sayers, who appeared earlier on the mystery scene, in 1920 and 1923 respectively, really only began to tower over most of their male contemporaries in the 1930s, say 1930 to 1935.
There are some good reading suggestions here, if you can find the books.
Why haven’t we finished our novel? (An infographic from The Onion) Blogging about writing is not on this list, probably because it’s too realistic to be funny.
I’m not qualified to judge the legal merits of the Supreme Court’s decision in the matter of Albert Snyder vs. Westboro Baptist Church today, but that won’t stop me from expressing my moral horror at what seems to me a deeply perverse and dangerous ruling.
World Magazine reports:
Chief Justice John Roberts wrote the majority opinion, concluding that under the First Amendment, even despicable speech is protected if it concerns a public matter. “A group of parishioners standing at the very spot where Westboro stood, holding signs that said ‘God Bless America’ and ‘God Loves You,’ would not have been subjected to liability,” he wrote. “It was what Westboro said that exposed it to tort damages.” But Roberts acknowledged that the speech itself was odious: “Westboro believes America is morally flawed; many Americans might feel the same about Westboro.”
The opinion noted that the case was decided based on the specific circumstances of Matthew Snyder’s funeral, and shouldn’t be construed as a broad ruling. Westboro protestors stood on a public sidewalk more than 1,000 feet from the funeral, complying with local laws. Albert Snyder reportedly only saw the tops of the signs at the funeral, and didn’t see what they said until afterward, meaning he wasn’t a “captive audience,” Roberts wrote, a condition for the court to restrict speech.
As a non-lawyer, what I see here is a symptom of a larger problem in American life. There seems to be a greater concern with satisfying “jot and tittle” legal points, than with doing justice. Jesus said, “You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cummin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness.” (Matthew 23:23)
In order for society to work, the people need to believe, a) that the laws are for their protection, and b) that the people who administer the law are morally sane.
It seems to me this decision calls both principles into question.
I could find a bright side in this decision, if I wanted to. I could say, “Well, if the detestable expressions of Westboro Baptist Church are legally protected, my own politically incorrect speech is probably pretty safe.”
But I cannot feel that way.
I will not feel that way.
In any case, the protection of an insane legal system is not be relied on.
I wrote about “zero tolerance” rules a few days ago, how authorities are more and more enforcing rules without thought or sympathy, regardless of the harm it may do.
This decision looks to me like an instance of the same thing. They upheld the letter of the statute. They missed (I would contend) its purpose entirely.
Our judicial system, to all appearances, has utterly abandoned its mandate (which I consider a divine mandate) to restrain evil. It’s possible to nurture discussion and debate about the most radical and controversial issues, while still preventing people from purposely causing children to cry.
One of my favorite moments of drama in Scripture comes from the story of David. The prophet Nathan comes to the king, to confront him over his sins of adultery and murder. He engages the king’s emotions by telling a story about a rich man who, instead of killing one of the sheep out of his own vast flocks to feed a guest, steals a poor man’s only sheep, a family pet.
David burned with anger against the man and said to Nathan, “As surely as the Lord lives, the man who did this deserves to die! He must pay for that lamb four times over, because he did such a thing and had no pity.”
Then Nathan said to David, “You are the man!” (2 Samuel 12:5-7)
The members of Westboro Baptist Church have no pity. More and more in our culture, I fear, we are at the mercy of people who have no pity.

I was looking for an excuse to buy more of Philip Kerr’s Bernie Gunther books. The acquisition of a Kindle provided it. Glad I did, though The One from the Other is far from my favorite of the series.
The Bernie Gunther novels, in case you’re not familiar with them, are classic Hardboiled mysteries in the Raymond Chandler tradition, except that they’re set in Germany, beginning in the 1930s. Bernie, the hero, is a sometime policeman and sometime private detective, a decent man living a life of quiet desperation, trying to retain both his pulse and his integrity in an increasingly Kafkaesque environment. His success at the latter has been mixed, at best.
After a flashback prologue, The One From the Other opens in 1949. Bernie is attempting, with no success, to run a hotel in Dachau. After a strange encounter with an American CIA agent, he admits he’s in the wrong business and moves to Munich, to set up shop as a detective again. He moves his wife, who is institutionalized with clinical depression, to that city as well, where she soon dies.
He is hired by a beautiful woman to look for her husband, a fugitive war criminal. A Catholic, she wants to remarry and needs proof of his death. This sets Bernie on a convoluted trail that leads him to discover dead bodies, get beaten up and shot at, and lose a finger. Gradually a complex conspiracy is revealed, involving a secret organization of ex-Nazis, the CIA, and the Catholic Church.
Frankly, I thought Kerr leaned too much on plot clichés this time out. Sinister CIA and Roman Catholic conspiracies have been done to death, and have (frankly) gotten offensive. He might have tried to surprise us a little.
But all that is redeemed, for me, by the interesting character of Bernie Gunther and the remarkable hard-boiled prose, such as this:
Starnberg itself was a smallish town built in terraces at the north end of the Würmsee…. The sapphire blue water was studded with yachts that shone like diamonds in the morning sunlight. It was overlooked by the ancient castle of the dukes of Bavaria. “Scenic” hardly covered it. After only a minute of looking at Starnberg, I wanted to lift the lid and eat the strawberry crème.
As I said, not the best Bernie, but an entertaining read nevertheless. Cautions for language and adult themes.