‘You Only Live Once,’ by Haris Orkin

His name is Flynn. James Flynn. He is handsome and always well-dressed. He speaks four languages. He is devastatingly attractive to women, physically fit, and a master of martial arts.

He is also a patient in a mental hospital. He believes the hospital to be the headquarters of Her Majesty’s Secret Service, and calls the director “N,” believing him to be his official superior. When management changes and N disappears, along with a patient Flynn calls “Q,” he escapes in order to rescue them. Along the way he picks up an orderly named Sancho as his sidekick, and rescues a fellow patient, an attractive girl named Dulcie, from her abusive boyfriend. But the greater challenge remains – the world, he is convinced, is under threat from an evil criminal mastermind, and Flynn, along with his bemused (often terrified) comrades, must step in to stop disaster.

Oddly enough, he’s kind of right.

So what we’ve got in You Only Live Once is a send-up of James Bond, in fusion with an homage to Don Quixote.

The book was amusing. It wasn’t as funny as I hoped, because the author tells it pretty much straight. The humor comes strictly from the preposterous situations our heroes get into.

I didn’t love You Only Live Once, but it was entertaining. I suspect a lot of readers will like it very much.

Netflix Film Review: ‘The 12th Man’

More than a year ago, I reviewed the book, The 12TH Man. The book was a reissue, re-titled to coincide with the release of the Norwegian film, The 12th Man, which (I believe) was based on it, at least in part. I have at last viewed the movie on Netflix, and here is my reaction:

In 1943, a group of 12 Norwegian saboteurs sailed from Shetland to Norway, to deliver munitions and commit sabotage against the occupying Germans. Due to outdated intelligence and a betrayal, their boat was intercepted by the Germans. One of the saboteurs was killed on the spot; 10 were captured, to suffer torture and execution. One, Jan Baalsrud, escaped, one of his feet bare and a toe shot off.

What followed was months on the run, with furtive help from farmers and fishermen, and the slow advance of gangrene in his toes (he would eventually amputate them himself). When Baalsrud could go no further on his own strength, patriotic Norwegians (ethnic Norse and Sami both) assisted him, dragging him by sled and hiding him in caves and underhangs, until they got him across the Swedish border to safety, emaciated and only just alive.

The film The 12th Man, starring Thomas Gullestad as Baalsrud, follows the basic story pretty faithfully, but – in the way of movies – ups the visual drama. A fictitious German officer (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) is invented to personalize the manhunt from the German side. Moments of action are inserted to raise the cinematic punch, but proper tribute is also paid to the quiet courage and endurance of Baalsrud himself, as well as to the people he considered the true heroes of the story – the ordinary folk who risked what little they had to help a stranger, one almost dead already, to escape the occupiers of their country.

The 12th Man is a superior survival movie, which will certainly compel viewer fascination. The performances are excellent. As is the case with most Norwegian movies, it includes breathtaking scenery. You should be warned that the story includes brutal violence and a harrowing scene of amputation. The dialogue (subtitled) includes profanity. Recommended, if you can handle this kind of thing.

‘Garden of the Damned,’ by Blake Banner

Conor Hagan was hard to miss. He was six four and looked like Michaelangelo’s less talented cousin had made him out of concrete.

I bought the collection of the first four Dead Cold Mystery books by Blake Banner, so I coasted right on into the third book, Garden of the Damned.

New York City cold case detective John Stone is intrigued by a 12-year-old file on another old unsolved murder. He notices something in the crime scene photos that eluded investigators at the time – who don’t seem to have worked the case too hard. The victim appears to have been a homeless man, shot and abandoned in a dumpster. But Stone notices that the man had an expensive haircut and manicured nails. This was no street person. This was a prosperous man who was murdered and then re-dressed, to mislead the police.

Along with his partner, Carmen Dehan, Stone starts asking questions, learning that the victim was a missing person – a wealthy young man who had been a devout Catholic, working tirelessly to help the poor. He and his fiancée had disappeared at precisely the same time, and no one had known their fate until now.

But why was he killed? The detectives learn that he was looking too closely into dark secrets being guarded by very powerful men, including men of the Church.

As always with Blake Banner’s books, Garden of the Damned was easy to read and fun. Some of the writing was very good, though plausibility wasn’t always high. Some very dark matters are touched on, and the Roman Catholic Church does not come out looking well at all.

‘Two Bare Arms,’ by Blake Banner

The gray drizzle had turned to heavy rain, with huge, broken clouds dragging in off the Atlantic like ripped sails from some cosmic Trafalgar.

The second volume in Blake Banner’s likeable Dead Cold Mystery series is Two Bare Arms. It is autumn, and our heroes, John Stone and Carmen Dehan, New York cops who don’t play well with others but find they make a good team, have selected another old case from the files. This one concerns a pair of human arms (female) found twelve years ago in an East Bronx “lock up” and never connected to any case, body, or missing person. The suspects include a reclusive, somewhat creepy computer geek, a thuggish motorcycle gang member, and a Satanist. The case will not lack for false trails, lies, or danger.

I like a lot of things about this series. Stone and Dehan make an interesting team – lonely people silently reaching out to each other, though in denial about it. A man and a woman who have no friends, and so care all the more fiercely about the one friend they each possess – the other.

Also, whenever they have a chance to eat, they tend to eat steak, with relish. This raises them immensely in my estimation.

And the prose is sometimes superior.

I’m not so keen on the plotting. There are a fair amount of improbabilities, and genuine police procedure is a distant glimmer.

But it was fun. Cautions for language and adult themes.

The Kindness of Alex Trebek

Jeopardy champion Jackie Fuchs describes the “Uncle Alex” she knew, some of the filler phrases he used, and what TV viewers couldn’t see in the studio.

Him taking my hand and asking me how I felt after I’d had a hypoglycemic scare during my fifth episode. His explaining to one of my competitors who’d gotten off to a blazing start, only to falter in the second half, that it was her buzzer technique and not her knowledge that had been her downfall. How he’d made us feel that it was cool to geek out over “Star Wars” or to collect Barbie dolls or to be interested in whatever we were passionate about.

He reportedly said the game show would carry on without him one day, but who could fill his shoes? In this moment when the contestants tied at $16,000, Alex showed his love the game with a quick laugh.

May he rest in peace.

‘Den Fineste Jinta’

Roughly 3 days’ work, but I have finished my translation job and sent it winging off to Norway. I have the satisfaction of a job well done, plus the pleasure of a rare November day with sunshine and temperatures near 70. I did a couple hours of my work out on the porch, enjoying the remission.

For reasons I won’t bore you with, I happened to listen to an old musical cassette from long, long ago (still listenable). It was an album of a Norwegian folk group called Vandrerne (the Wanderers). They did a mixture of Norwegian folk songs, original music, retro popular songs, and Celtic folk. The number embedded below, “Den Fineste Jinta” (The Finest Girl), is an adaptation of a well-known Irish song, “Black Velvet Band.” It roughly follows the plot of the Irish song — the young man meets a bewitching young girl who wears her hair “tied up in a black velvet band.” She entices him into a scheme to steal jewelry. He is arrested and ends up being transported to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania). Norwegian criminals didn’t generally get transported, so this guy’s fate is different. But I don’t understand the dialect well enough to tell you what it is.

Why Read the News? Seriously, Why?

Gary Furnell notes Sturgeon’s Law in his review of Rolf Dobelli’s book, Stop Reading the News: A Manifesto for a Happier, Calmer and Wiser Life, saying the news fits in that law too.

“Sturgeon’s Law” is named after sci-fi author Theodore Sturgeon who, when needled by a patronising critic complaining that 90 per cent of science fiction was rubbish, replied that 90 per cent of everything published was rubbish.

Furnell agreed with the premise before he picked up the book. He notes Dobelli chapter titles to show the rationale. News works against your creativity. It gives you the illusion of empathy and obscures the big picture. It create artificial fame.

Dobelli admits that when he was a young man he was constantly reading newspapers, fearful of not knowing what was happening in the world. He describes himself as an addict, a news-aholic. He doesn’t quote Kierkegaard, but I will: “What we need is a Pythagorean silence. There is far greater need for total-abstaining societies which would not read newspapers than for ones which do not drink alcohol.”

This is probably the advice we all need. Stop Reading the News (Bookshop link) (via Prufrock News)

Bertie’s cat crisis

Busy, busy today — and it’s a good time to be busy, to keep one’s mind off… things. Translation, big job, deadline, you know the drill.

So, in lieu of my comforting prose, I offer a moment of Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry as Jeeves and Wooster, from way back in 1990. Bertie Wooster, it appears, has imprudently allowed himself to stumble into engagement with Honoria Glossop, daughter of the eminent lunacy expert, Sir Roderick Glossop. Bertie has invited Sir and Madame Glossop to dine in his flat. But Jeeves, in his wisdom, knows the match is unsuitable, and so finds a subtle way to put a boot up the pipe. (I have no idea what that means, but it sounds about right.)

Nobody’s ever done Jeeves and Wooster better, even though Hugh Laurie took the coward’s way out and didn’t work with a monocle.

The Materialist Has No Room for Ghosts

Patricia Pearson notes ghost stories have been with us since the beginning, but for about a hundred years now, experts have believed seeing or feeling something like a ghost isn’t healthy. Here are two of her paragraphs.

William Dean Howells, editor of The Atlantic Monthly from 1871-1881, defended the belief in ghostly visions from an emerging class of skeptics after his daughter Winny died in her twenties. “I would have the bereaved trust their mystical experiences for much truth which they cannot affirm,” he wrote in 1910’s “A Counsel of Consolation.” “They may be the kaleidoscopic adjustment of our jarred and shattered being; they may be prismal rays of celestial light: who shall say from knowledge?”

That the dead do not always stay dead continues to rankle the scientifically minded. When Christopher Kerr, a Toronto-raised palliative care physician who heads Hospice and Palliative Care Buffalo, first worked with patients on rounds, he was completely unprepared for the number of dreams and visions his patients described that featured the consoling dead. “We never had any such discussion on the topic in med school,” he emailed me. In his 2020 book, Death Is But a Dream, Kerr writes, “The acceleration of the science of medicine has obscured its art, and medicine, always less comfortable with the subjective, has been more concerned with disproving the unseen than revering its meaning.”

The Bible doesn’t seem to allow for ghosts as the spirits of departed persons, but it does teach of us souls and life immaterial. We understand that being made in God’s image means we are body and spirit together. Maybe the immaterial nature of our spirits explains the stories people tell of seeing those around them as they are dying or afterward, because we are connected in spiritual ways we cannot dissect. (via Prufrock News)

‘An Ace and a Pair,’ by Blake Banner

He blinked, but it was probably just his time for blinking that month.

Having discovered the pleasures of reading Blake Banner, and having exhausted the available books in his Cobra series, I moved on to his Dead Cold Mystery books, about a pair of police detective partners in New York City. An Ace and a Pair was not as much fun as the Cobra books, in my estimation, but entertaining, and with some superior moments.

John Stone is a successful detective with a high case clearance rate. But his superior doesn’t like him. Aside from personal animus, she considers him a dinosaur who ought to retire and make way for younger people. So she assigns him to the Cold Case squad, and partners him with Det. Carmen Dehan, a very attractive (of course) Jewish/Mexican officer with an attitude problem. They mesh immediately, united by their mutual dislike for their superior and a visceral commitment to going to any length to solve cases. There’s some sexual chemistry too, but they both avoid that issue.

The first case John selects is a bizarre one. Ten years ago, a gangster named Nelson Hernandez was found dead at a poker table, along with his chief lieutenants. Each had been shotgunned to death (though Hernandez himself was also grotesquely mutilated), and apparently not one of them moved to defend himself. The chief suspects have solid alibis. Also, the crime made no sense. It didn’t seem to profit anybody.

Stone and Dehan delve into the evidence, which involves a fair amount of travel (even a trip on a gangster’s private plane). Only Stone’s intuitive detective work will enable them to cut through a lot of lies and subterfuges and put some old wrongs right.

Although author Banner employs his trademark technique of jumping quickly into the action, without a lot of preliminary stage setting, the story didn’t take off for me until a little way in. But it grew on me, and I started to care. I had a vague idea what the outcome would be, but a number of impossible problems needed solving first.

I thought I found a couple weak spots. At one point, Stone locates a vital clue through driving around in Texas – which seemed to me an improbable needle-in-the-haystack thing, considering the size of Texas. Also, the author used “begs the question” wrong, which disappointed me. This guy’s better than that.

But it was an enjoyable novel with a satisfying conclusion. Recommended, with the usual cautions.

Book Reviews, Creative Culture