Fiction, Reviews

‘The Green Wound Contract,’ by Philip Atlee

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The author James Atlee Philips (father of the musician Shawn Philips) wrote thrillers under the pen name Philip Atlee. He’s best remembered for a series of thrillers called the “Contract” novels, featuring freelance assassin Joe Gall. The Green Wound Contract is the first in the series, set in 1963.

At that time in history, James Bond was all the rage. Joe Gall, it seems, must have been one of the American attempts to provide an American equivalent, cross-pollinated with Mike Hammer. It’s not entirely unsuccessful.

A former CIA agent, Joe Gall is called in by the director to do a special contract job. In the southern town of Lafcadio, racial tensions are rising, and the agency suspects an outside hand is manipulating people and politics. Going in undercover, Joe meets the town’s white political boss and his beautiful wife, and ventures into the town’s black section, where anger is simmering – until it all blows up. Further developments will lead to commando action in the Caribbean.

For the 21st Century reader, The Green Wound Contract is a little disorienting. The Black Civil Rights movement is not treated with a lot of respect, and in this story at least part of it is directed by a hostile world power. (Though not a Communist one. Anti-communists are also dismissed, and Castro treated sympathetically).

The writing was quite good, often elegant, with lots of Shakespeare quotations. The story was violent, and there’s some sex, the sex and the violence overlapping at one point. The topic of human trafficking is handled in horrific detail.

The Green Wound Contract is pretty well written, I think, but it hasn’t aged well. It does make an interesting read in light of actual historical events.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Jigsaw,’ by Jonathan Kellerman

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The amazing thing about Jonathan Kellerman’s Alex Delaware series is its combination of consistency with a high level of professionalism. Each of these books is very much the same in execution, and yet they never seem stale – at least to this reader.

I’ve occasionally wondered why, a few years back, Kellerman changed his description of Alex’s cop buddy, Milo Sturgis. Milo used to have a “skunk” pattern in his hair, with white on both sides and black down the middle. Now his hair is just described as black. I suspect that change marked the point where the author decided he would henceforth utterly ignore the passage of real-world time. Neither character will ever age again, as long as the series continues.

Jigsaw, the 41st (!) entry in said series, involves the investigations of the strangulation of a young woman in one part of town, and the dismemberment of an old woman in another part of town. There is nothing to link the two crimes, and yet Alex begins to suspect there has to be. He is, of course, correct.

I found the culprit in Jigsaw particularly interesting. Discovery of that person’s identity is delayed, and the motive kept obscure, in a very effective way. Sort of an out-of-left-field solution, and it was fun to watch the investigators work it out.

I enjoyed Jigsaw precisely as much as all the Alex Delaware books, which is to say, very much. Cautions for disturbing language and situations.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Code of the Woosters,’ by P.G. Wodehouse

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I stared at the young pill, appalled at her moral code, if you could call it that. You know, the more I see of women, the more I think that there ought to be a law. Something has got to be done about this sex, or the whole fabric of Society will collapse, and then what silly asses we shall all look.

The first Jeeves and Wooster book I ever bought was The Code of the Woosters. That was about 50 years ago. I recall pausing a moment, in the B. Dalton’s aisle, to wonder whether I’d like the book. I was young then, I need hardly say, and knew nothing.

The Code of the Woosters is Wodehouse (as he himself might have put it) at his fruitiest. It’s such a tightly plotted farce that I, for one, was forced to pause my reading every few pages, just to get my breath back.

The plot, even in a broad sketch, requires some setting up. So curl up on the nearest chesterfield and pour yourself a restorative libation.

The tale begins with Bertie Wooster getting a call from his Aunt Dahlia, asking him (for once) to do what seems to be a fairly simple task. He is to go to a particular antique shop and sneer at a silver cow-creamer. Her husband, Tom Travers, a silver collector. yearns to buy that creamer. Aunt Dahlia hopes Bertie’s scorn will demoralize the shopkeeper, who will then knock down the price for Uncle Tom. Then she can touch him for a loan for the insolvent magazine she publishes.

The upshot is, of course, disastrous. On arriving, Bertie finds Sir Watkyn Basset, a retired judge, already at the shop. Sir Watkyn is Uncle Tom’s rival, also coveting the cow-creamer. He and Bertie are acquainted, as Sir Watkyn once fined him for stealing a policeman’s helmet on Boat Race Night. Accompanying Sir Watkyn is the gorilla-like Roderick Spode, leader of an English Fascist party. Caught unprepared, Bertie ends up stumbling over a cat in a manner that convinces Sir Watkyn that he’s attempting to steal the creamer.

Back in his flat, Bertie gets a telegram from his fatuous friend Gussie Fink-Nottle, who wants him to come to the country estate where he’s staying. The estate just happens to belong to Sir Watkyn, as Gussie is engaged to Sir Watkyn’s daughter Madeline. Except that Madeline, Gussie reports, has broken the engagement off, This horrifies Bertie, since Madeline has conceived the erroneous idea that Bertie is in love with her, and threatens to marry him if it doesn’t work out with Gussie.

Then there’s a visit from Aunt Dahlia, who reports that Sir Watkyn has now acquired the cow-creamer. So she needs Bertie to go to the same estate and steal the thing. If he refuses, she’ll bar his access to the cooking of Anatole, her incomparable French chef.

Clear so far?

After that it gets complicated.

Oh yes, I need to remember Stephanie “Stiffy” Byng, Sir Watkyn’s niece, who is also on site. She is engaged to an old friend of Bertie’s, whom she is pressuring to steal (recurring theme here) the local constable’s police helmet.

It’s all hilarious. Brilliant. Incomparable.

Most highly recommended.

Fiction, Reviews

Rise of the Merlin: The King of Maridunum

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We see brutal melee in the fourth episode of The Pendragon Cycle: Rise of the Merlin as Merlin, Pelleas, and Uther travel north to rally lesser kings to fight for Aurellius against the Saxons.

First, Merlin recommends the High King take refuge in Ynys Avallach, the realm of former Atlanteans, now considered fairies or elves by men. King Avallach is hailed as the Fisher King, because they find him fishing, but I don’t know if the writer is teasing us with Arthurian easter eggs or intends to identify him as the Fisher King who keeps the Holy Grail. It could be the latter, because Avallach is wounded as the Fisher King is wounded and his kingdom is in decline.

Thinking Merlin may be raising an army for himself, Uther insists on travelling to Maridunum with him. When they arrive, we learn more of Merlin’s past and why Uther has good reason to fear him. In the image above, Finney Cassidy as Aurellius is in the foreground, Myles Clohessy as Uther behind him.

A lot more fighting this one, some of it brutal. About half of it had me wondering what a real melee would look like. I’d think there’d be more shield usage and no cracking someone’s helmet with your sword hilt and pushing them behind you. Aurellius goes against a brute in one scene that leaves you feeling the blows.

I didn’t talk about the power-hungry Morgian before. She appears again in this episode, having established herself as the wife of one of the lesser kings (and, of course, rooting for the Saxons). It’s clear she was a bad egg from the start. She sought out the deal Taliesin rejected at the start of the series. I’d love for it to turn Faustian on her because she’s earned that, but I doubt that’s where the story will take us.

Speaking of that, I assume this seven-episode series will leave us somewhat hanging. This is only the first part of a longer story. Will they attempt to wrap it up, believing they can’t afford a second season?

Music, Religion

How not to be a child

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Thing noticed this morning in devotions, as I work my way through Luke 18:

Surprise, surprise. The next section carries on the same theme (asking boldly vs. humility) developed in the previous sections:

The Rich Ruler

18And a ruler asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 19And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone. 20You know the commandments: ‘Do not commit adultery, Do not murder, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother.’” 21And he said, “All these I have kept from my youth.” 22When Jesus heard this, he said to him, “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” 23But when he heard these things, he became very sad, for he was extremely rich. 24Jesus, seeing that he had become sad, said, “How difficult it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! 25For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” 26Those who heard it said, “Then who can be saved?” 27But he said, “What is impossible with man is possible with God.” 28And Peter said, “See, we have left our homes and followed you.” 29And he said to them, “Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or wife or brothersb or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, 30who will not receive many times more in this time, and in the age to come eternal life.”

What have we learned up to now?

That Christianity calls for a) boldness, but b) humility.

We further established that this pattern is embodied in children. Nobody will enter the Kingdom of God unless they become like children.

Now in comes the Rich Ruler (they always called him the Rich Young Ruler when I was a kid, but maybe that was in one of the synoptics).

The Rich Ruler is the opposite of a child. He thinks he’s got it all together. Has he kept the Law? You bet. Been there, done that, got the tee-shirt.  What else do I need?

Jesus tells him he needs to sell everything he owns, give it to the poor, and follow Him.

The point, I’m convinced, is not that we earn salvation through poverty (though some Christian socialists seem to think so). It’s that the Rich Ruler needs to become a child again. He needs to put himself in a helpless, dependent position where Christ is all he has.

Which he can’t bring himself to do.

The answer he should have given was to say, “I can’t do that! Help me!”

Then he’d be a child. Then he’d be saved. We can hope he reached that point, later on.

Above, Sissel Kyrkjebø with the Oslo Gospel Choir, in a fairly awesome arrangement of a song appropriate to the topic.

Religion

Of death, and of children

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Image credit: Royal Academy

Bad and good things today. The good came first, but I’ll discuss it last.

Today, in the course of carrying out a routine task, I learned that a friend of mine had died last month. He was a member of my Viking group – not one of the regulars, but he showed up from time to time, and the two of us generally talked. But it was only at our last event, Viking Fest Minnesota last fall, that we discovered we shared very similar religious and social views. It may seem strange to know a guy for years and never learn that, but we generally keep off such topics at our events. Try to avoid kicking up divisions in the group. But lo and behold, Paul turned out to be One of Us. So we had a good talk. I looked forward to having more such talks.

Now that won’t happen.

He was almost two decades younger than me.

Receive him into glory immortal, O Lord.

Now to the positive stuff.

If you scroll down this page a few inches, you’ll see my meditation from the other day on some verses from Luke 18. I was pondering the contrast between the parable of the Importunate Widow and the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector.

I saw the point of the first parable as encouraging chutzpah – ask boldly; don’t be shy.

And I saw the point of the second as calling for humility.

Which seemed contradictory to me. I don’t know how to reconcile the two things in my own life.

This morning (having been kept from my devotions yesterday) I came to the passage that follows. And once again, context matters. Jesus Himself answers the conundrum he posed. It goes on like this, Luke 18:15-17:

Let the Children Come to Me

15Now they were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them. And when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. 16But Jesus called them to him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. 17Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”

And there, I think, is the answer, the truth that squares the circle. Who can be importunate like the Widow, and humble like the Tax Collector, all at the same time?

A child. Children ask without shame, and are humble by necessity. “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”

So all I need to do is become like a child.

The actual problem remains as difficult as it was before, but at least I can articulate it now.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Murder On the Menu,’ by Bruce Beckham

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Strands of cotton wool cloud stretch like forsaken laundry across Skiddaw’s darkening lower slopes.

Yet, like a split time zone, the setting sun spotlights the great fell’s scree-capped summit – and overhead, at some indeterminate altitude (but not so high) rays incandesce in a layer of fine golden mist.

I’ve read most of Bruce Beckham’s Inspector Skelgill novels. I can’t say I actually love them, but they’re uniformly satisfying. The great virtue of the books is probably their prose. The author spends a lot of time describing the landscape and weather of England’s lake district, which he obviously loves.

In Murder On the Menu, Skelgill and young female detective Emma Jones are looking into some non-fatal poisonings at restaurants in the area. It appears that their region is a hotbed of fine dining (Skelgill generally cares more about quantity than quality), and the restaurants that have seen the poisonings are contenders for an important magazine award. Could somebody be trying to nobble the frontrunners?

In a rather comic subplot, Sergeant Leyton, the citified London transplant, finds himself slogging around the countryside, stalking a man he suspects of being a poacher.

Murder On the Menu is notable for the fact that Inspector Skelgill himself spends quite a large part of it out of commission – and yet manages to save the day.

Quite entertaining, especially if you’re a lover of the outdoors. No cautions I can think of.

Religion

Of tax collectors and widows

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Photo credit: Getty Images. Unsplash license.

Today the sun shone most of the time, and temperatures moderated in my embattled town. I went to the eye surgeon for a follow-up examination, and everything looked good. I also did not encounter any neo-secessionist rioters en route, which pleased me.

In my morning devotions, I read the passage below from Luke 18. Actually, just verses 9-14. I did 1-8 last Friday. But, in considering the context, I noticed for the first time that Luke jams two very contrasting parables right next to each other, thus:

The Parable of the Persistent Widow

1And he told them a parable to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart. 2He said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor respected man. 3And there was a widow in that city who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Give me justice against my adversary.’ 4For a while he refused, but afterward he said to himself, ‘Though I neither fear God nor respect man, 5yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will give her justice, so that she will not beat me down by her continual coming.’” 6And the Lord said, “Hear what the unrighteous judge says. 7And will not God give justice to his elect, who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long over them? 8I tell you, he will give justice to them speedily. Nevertheless, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

The Pharisee and the Tax Collector

9He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: 10“Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayeda thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ 13But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

I’ve always been fond of the Tax Collector in the temple. In fact, my personal “conversion” (we Lutherans believe we’re converted at baptism, but some of us also believe you can have a renewal of your baptism when you’re old enough to understand the life of faith) followed a sermon on this parable. I was about 12 year old. As a guy who suffered from “low self-esteem” (a concept not yet invented at the time), I could identify with that beaten-down guy.

But just before that parable (I noticed today), you’ve got the outrageous story of the Persistent Widow (or the Unjust Judge). This is one of those parables that confounds our left-brain impulse to make every parable an allegory. Jesus is absolutely not saying that God is like an unjust judge. He’s just practicing hyperbole, telling an exaggerated story to make a point. You might call it a kind of a joke – “Even a crooked judge can be worn down by constant petitions. Certainly our good Heavenly Father will respond much faster than that!”

In other words, this parable commands us to approach God with what the Jews call “chutzpah.” Jewish people are famous for being bold askers. Their parents (generally) raise them to be like this. “What can it hurt to ask?” they say. “The worst they can do is say no.”

This is not something I learned in my Norwegian home. Precisely the opposite, in fact. It’s something I need to ponder, tax collector in the temple that I am.

Fiction, Reviews

Rise of the Merlin: A Fatherless Child

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The third episode of Jeremy Boreing’s The Pendragon Cycle: Rise of the Merlin continues in the series’ strengths. Tom Sharp as Merlin (shown above) brings appropriate gravity to the role of a 75-year-old mage who has been an established legend for many years, according to all the people who meet him.

It begins with Merlin in the wilderness and a voiceover telling us what people say about him — that he was mad, that he was a king of renown, a bard, a prophet, and a slayer of hundreds. A figure and voice reminiscent of the old man who confronted Taliesin charges him to “go back the way you came.” And so, our man with falcon eyes returns to the land of the living.

The easiest way for me to review each episode would be to simply recap what happens. I don’t want to do that. I want you to enjoy the show yourself, whether it be on DailyWire+ or on another method of release (surely they will sell DVDs). Still, I’ll share what I can.

Merlin delivers the episode’s theme when telling Aurellius, “First, there is a sword, a sword of Britain and the sword is Britain.” Aurellius is of Roman decent and aims to reclaim his father’s land from the Saxons (or Saecsens, as the show spells it). One historical account says he was the one who directed the building of Stonehenge, which would be an impressive real-world tie-in. Right now, he is avenging his father’s murder and rallying other warlords to his banner.

Aurellius’s brother is Uther Pendragon, who appears as his more pessimistic partner in the fight. The story makes it clear Aurellius is in charge, but Uther looks to be his equal in many ways.

This series isn’t going to put the cookies on a low shelf. Viewers may ask if they are supposed to know who someone is or how to read Welsh, and if you’ve taken a course in Arthurian legend, then yeah, you should know. The rest of us will need to get comfortable with ignorance. I haven’t felt lost yet, and most of my knowledge of Camelot comes from the musical.

I love what they’ve done with magic, so far. Episode one got gritty with the pagan stuff, but when our leading men exercise power, it’s natural and sometimes marvelous.

And there’s a scene in this one that is a bit more thrilling for its close resemblance to the hobbits hiding from the Black Riders. I almost stopped it to stare at the tree roots. It’s not the same forest, but when you see it, you’ll know what I’m saying.

Music, Religion

‘Heyr þú oss himnum á’

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Our friend Dale Nelson sent me the link to the Icelandic hymn above.

I have no idea what it says, but it’s really lovely. (I suspect the title means, ‘Hear Us From Heaven.’ I should probably check with Jackson Crawford.)

Have a good weekend.