Fiction, Reviews

Hot Money, by Dick Francis

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Reviewing a Dick Francis book is almost a pointless exercise. I’ve only read one book of his that actually disappointed me, and you can be sure that the writing will always be professional and satisfying. But I’ve had a couple criticisms of his attitudes now and then, and Hot Money calls for one such, so I guess that justifies a critique.

It’s always interesting to discover by what angle Francis will approach his always racing-related plots. This time around the unique element is complicated family relationships, what psychologists call “constellations,” where parents and children fall into predictable roles, into which they tend to relapse whenever they get together.

In Hot Money the constellation is more of a supernova. Multimillionaire gold trader Malcolm Pembroke has been married five times, and has sired a number of children, most of whom resent each other and their siblings’ other mothers. One thing most of them agree on is their hated for Ian, the narrator of this book, whom their father seems to prefer. They’re all certain he’s plotting to cut them him out.

But when Malcolm’s latest wife is murdered, and a couple attempts are made on his own life, he goes to Ian and asks him to become his live-in bodyguard. Ian agrees, and commences picking through the minefield of his family’s loves and hates in order to stop a killer and save both their lives.

The large number of characters in this book make it sometimes hard to follow (make sure to bookmark the character list). That also goes for the superfluity of murder motives – everybody has one, but none of them seem adequate to murder. Sometimes I found the sheer volume of “soft” data kind of overwhelming.

And again, as I’ve seen at least once before in Francis, there’s a tolerant attitude to adultery that displeased me. On the other hand, there wasn’t any explicit sex, and the language wasn’t bad.

Not top drawer Francis, but good.

Uncategorized

Keeping the Art Behind Closed Doors

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Carlos Whittaker says, “In a society where people are now making art for the sake of fame as opposed to for the sake of art, this is the most refreshing documentary trailer I’ve seen in years. So many of us are pushed through the funnel of social media to create art for the sake of likes.”

He shares a curious trailer about a woman who kept her street photography in boxes behind a locked door, and then invites readers to share their secret arts.

Reading, Religion

More from Through Norway With a Knapsack

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I’m feeling a bit better now, thanks for asking, having seen a doctor last week and gotten antibiotics and a steroid for my lungs. But a day at work still wipes me out, and I’ve got stuff I need to get done tonight. So, in lieu of the hard work of thinking out a blog post, I’ll just post another short excerpt from Williams’ Through Norway With a Knapsack, last night’s subject.

In this episode, our hero has gotten lost and spent a long day on the mountains, finally finding a guest house late at night, exhausted.

On awakening, I found a stout gentleman sitting at my bedside. He was the pastor of Lom. A Norwegian pastor is not merely a preacher; he is clergy-man, physician, magistrate, arbitrator, and general friend and father, to whom all his scattered parishioners appeal. In a country where there are none but peasant farmers – no aristocracy, no gentry, no towns and villages, no shopkeepers, no professional class – a highly educated man must be strangely isolated, and, unless endowed with the true spirit of Christian benevolence, must be one of the most miserable of men; but, if suited to his work, he may be one of the happiest, for his opportunities of doing unmistakable good, and of witnessing the full fruits of his good deeds, are almost unlimited. Most of these Norwegian pastors are, I believe, excellent men, and render great services to the people around.

In the present instance, the paternal relations of the good pastor of Lom were illustrated in my case, for he sat at my bedside, where he had evidently been watching for some time, as though he feared that some fever or other ailment might result from the over-exertion, excitement and fasting….

Fiction, Reviews

Something New, by P.G. Wodehouse

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In a 1948 letter, Wodehouse said he liked his Blandings Castle stories over his others because his character Lord Emsworth is his favorite. The dottering old earl, more content weeding in his garden than doing anything else, is introduced in the novel Something New (later published in the U.K. as Something Fresh (the two books are not exactly the same)), Wodehouse’s first story about the quirky folk of Blandings Castle.

The story gives us the young man Ashe Marson, a writer of monthly juvenile detective adventure novels, being challenged by a beautiful, new acquaintance to take his life in his own hands and try something new. This beauty, Joan Valentine, soon discovers that the Honorable Freddie Treepwood, reprobate son of the Earl of Emsworth, was once terribly in the love with her and would rather that part of his life never see the light of day. The reason is Freddie has proposed to Aline Peters, daughter of American millionaire J.P. Peters, who moved into a home near Blandings several months ago. (Mr. Peters is said to be “suffering from that form of paranoia which makes men multimillionaires.”) Aline intends to marry Freddie, perhaps more to please her father than herself, but she hasn’t given herself much time to think about it. Her father, Mr. Peters, is an Ancient Egyptian scarab enthusiast. When he decides to gush about them to the absent-minded Lord Emsworth, trouble broods.

I laugh easily with Wodehouse’s wonderful stories. The first time I got a head of steam behind my laughing was before the scarab-enthusing incident when Lord Emsworth visits the Senior Conservative Club in London. Here he demonstrates his lack of lucidity with the steward Adams, who attends the Earl professionally while soaking in his many utterances and expressions for imitation among friends later that evening. Adams has developed a reputation as a humorist, imitating the members of the Senior Conservative Club.

The next time I remember rolling along, like one of Adams’ friends, was in a very satisfying scene in Blandings Castle toward the end. It’s something of a climax, so I can’t reveal it for you, but I love when Wodehouse brings his characters together in ways that you may see coming for several pages and still cracks you up when it happens. Often such scenes begin with what you see coming and carry on with what you don’t.

Lord Emsworth doesn’t play much of a role in this character-rich story, but it’s still a great introduction to him. Wodehouse tells us, “His was a life that lacked, perhaps, the sublime emotions which raise man to the level of the gods; but undeniably it was an extremely happy one. He never experienced the thrill of ambition fulfilled; but, on the other hand, he never knew the agony of ambition frustrated.”

Contentment, thy name is Emsworth.

Non-fiction, Reviews

Reading Report: Through Norway With a Knapsack, by W. Mattieu Williams

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Photo credit: Russavia, 2008.

It’s part of my necessary duties as a novelist, one who specializes in a country where he does not live and has only visited a few times, to do my best to read travelers’ reports, especially old ones from before the days of the automobile and the high speed ferry. When I found Through Norway With a Knapsack, by W. Mattieu Williams, first published in 1853, and slightly expanded and updated in 1876, I jumped at it, especially since the Kindle version came cheap. And I’m glad I did. Not only does it largely cover parts of the country I’m less familiar with, but the author – though not free of the congenital arrogance of the 19th Century Englishman, turns out to be pretty congenial. He knows how to laugh at himself, and is flexible in the face of unfamiliar conditions. He likes to travel light, like an early Rick Steves, which was not common for men of his background and class.

Instead of analyzing the whole thing, I just share a portion I particularly enjoyed:

After a few hours’ sleep, and a repetition of the meal just described, I started at two in the afternoon and walked on by a good road to Nordgård. On the way I was hailed by a man on the other side of a hedge, to know if I had seen two horses on the mountain. On finding me to be an Englishman he spoke to me in good English, and told me that long ago he emigrated to America and lived there for sixteen years; but the desire to see his ‘Gamle Norge’ again had brought him back, and finding his daughter married, with a farm and family about her, he was persuaded to remain and end his days there. I asked him which he liked best, America or Norway? He preferred America. Why then did he not return? He tried to explain; and, after some help in wording and shaping the expression, told me that he liked America, but did not love it; and that he loved Norway, but did not like it; and as loving was stronger than liking, he resolved to die at home.

Perhaps not recommended for any reader whose ancestors came from Telemark, unless you like hearing about how your people were the filthiest in Norway at the time. Otherwise, pretty good.

Fiction, Reviews

They Shall See God, by Athol Dickson

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Ruth reached over a[nd] covered one of Katy’s hands with hers. She spoke very softly, saying, “Forgive me if this hits a little close to home, but I just have to ask: What good are the things that Jesus said and did if they make no difference in how people live?”

You’d have to go far to find a braver Christian novelist than Athol Dickson. As I’ve written in previous reviews of his books, I consider him far above the average CBA writer in terms of craftsmanship and depth. They Shall See God is actually a reissue (slightly re-worked) of one of his earlier novels. I don’t think he’d reached his full powers when he wrote it. Sometimes (and I’m not sure this isn’t just an emotional reaction to my own tensions about the issues) I think the dialogue is a little awkward, but that may just be that he’s accurately inventing conversations that are awkward in themselves.

In any case, They Shall See God is a bold (and generally successful, I think) attempt to deal with one of the touchiest possible issues in theology – the relations between Christians and Jews.

Kate Flint, New Orleans antique shop owner, mother, and recent widow, is a Christian desperately trying to hold her life together. Ruth Gold is a Reformed rabbi. Long ago, as little girls, they were best friends, until they witnessed a horrible murder and their parents determined to separate them.

But now the man who went to prison on their testimony has been released from prison. And people are being killed – beginning with Ruth’s boyfriend. As they come to realize that their lives are in danger, these two women must push past their mutual fears and guilts to try to form an alliance to save their own lives and those of others, and to unravel the deeper mysteries of the old crime.

I won’t say there’s no preaching in this book, because there are preachers here (good and bad), and they do their thing. But the preaching is preaching, and the dialogue is dialogue, and the human depictions cut right down to the heart. I found They Shall See God hard to read – simply because of hard truths – but moving and rewarding. Cautions for some pretty intense violence.

Fiction, Reviews

The Bone House, by Stephen R. Lawhead

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In this second book in his Bright Empires Series, The Bone House (sequel to The Skin Map), Stephen Lawhead continues the saga of Kit Livingstone and his friends and enemies, in various places in space, time, and alternate dimensions.
Time travel stories, though not uncommon, are devilish hard to put together (as I can testify, though I make no claim to have done it as well as Lawhead). The story jumps around a number of locations and millennia, and we’re informed that some of the futures and pasts are alternate ones. It’s all rather complicated, and the large cast makes it hard to keep the characters, many of whom only appear briefly, straight. I recommend that you bookmark the Important People section, for reference.
In The Skin Map, Kit Livingstone met his great-grandfather, Cosimo, who taught him to use the mysterious “ley lines” to move around dimensional pathways. Cosimo is in competition with Archelaeus Burleigh, Earl of Sutherland, a villain and megalomaniac, in seeking the Skin Map, which the original discoverer of the ley lines, Sir Arthur Flinders-Petrie, had tattooed on his own body (so that he’d never lose it). The fact that Arthur himself is a character in the story, while his tanned skin is the “Maguffin” of the whole adventure, adds a bizarre note.
It’s all rather fun, and of great interest, if you can keep the players straight. Again in this volume, one of the most interesting characters is Kit’s old girlfriend Mina, who accidentally got stuck in 16th Century Prague, an experience which surprisingly turned her into a better and more competent person, one who’s very useful to have around.
To my surprise the most moving part of the story was a sojourn by Kit in a prehistoric cave community, where he has a genuinely transcendent spiritual experience that raises the whole level of the story.
I recommend The Bone House almost without reservation, except to say that the reader may want to wait until the whole series is available in the format he prefers, and read the whole thing at once, to help keep track of all the characters and settings.

Religion

Blind Spots

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Anthony Bradley talks about the rap song “Precious Puritans” by Propaganda. He explains how the song criticizes puritans for condone slavery (which frankly is news to me and troubling), but goes on to say he, the singer, is no better. We all have flaws and blind spots.
However, by singing about puritans in an unflattering way Propaganda has raised the ire of many reformed writers. Bradley suggests this may be typical tribal thinking.

Strachan considers the Puritans “forefathers” and in a tribalist way, some would argue, seeks to protect their legacy. Had Propaganda dropped a track critiquing Roman Catholics, Jeremiah Wright, Rob Bell, Brian McLaren, or preachers of the prosperity gospel, he’d be called a hero. During my seminary years I was rebuked once for mentioning Martin Luther King Jr. in a sermon because of his sins. Why? Because King, like the others, are outside the tribe and are fair game to be critiqued in any form. Since they are not “one of us” there is no expectation of extending grace. Grace is reserved for those with whom we agree.

Non-fiction, Religion

Gospel Deeps, by Jared Wilson

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In warning his readers against divisions, Paul writes, “For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God” (1 Corinthians 1:18). The gospel to those of us who are being saved is the power of God. That describes the beauty of a book like Jared Wilson’s Gospel Deeps. It’s an extended meditation on this glorious word of the cross.
“Does love demand freedom?” he asks in chapter one. That’s the idea we get from many stories and some ministers. “What we are asked to believe is that God doing whatever he wants with whomever he wants is a simplistic, fatalistic view of love, and that God letting us do whatever we want is a more compelling vision of his love.” But God, who is the author and giver of life itself, whose character defines love, peace, joy and other virtues, could not be more loving than he is. God is love, though love is not God, as some would have it. “Maybe the reality is a love more multifaceted than we can understand with finite, fallen minds… that the God of the Bible is as transcendent as he is imminent, that his ways are inscrutable, that his love is glorious and astonishing precisely because it is too wonderful for us” (pp. 27-28).
Jared isn’t a mystic on a frozen Vermont hillside. Continue reading Gospel Deeps, by Jared Wilson →

Fiction, Reviews

A Shroud for Aquarius, by Max Allan Collins

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Before author Max Allan Collins hit the big time with his Joe Heller novels and The Road to Perdition, he wrote several novels about an Iowa mystery writer with a sideline in real-life sleuthing, called Mallory (no first name; his friends call him Mal). Judging by A Shroud for Aquarius, Collins was already at that point an excellent writer.

Mallory is called in by the county sheriff to view the scene of the violent death of Ginnie Mullens. Ginnie was Mal’s oldest friend (never a lover). Though estranged in high school, after which Ginnie became a hippie and got into the drug world, they’ve kept in touch, and Mal has always intended to try to mend fences. He never quite got around to it.

The scene looks like a suicide by handgun, but the sheriff isn’t sure. Ginnie is known to have had dangerous connections, and he suspects foul play. There’s also a double indemnity insurance angle. Mal, partly from feelings of guilt, agrees to look into it. Danger, ugly revelations, and a new love await him on his quest.

One thing that’s especially interesting about this book, written in the ʼ80s, is that today’s reader has to view it through a double lens of history. A Shroud for Aquarius is largely a meditation on the aftereffects – which Mal sees as mainly bad – of ʼ60s counterculture.

But for the reader in the 2010s, the ʼ80s setting is in itself a distant mirror, and it’s hard not to think that the hippies won after all, considering that we have an acolyte of Bill Ayers in the White House right now.

Which is a melancholy thought, at least for me.

But the book is good, and is recommended. The usual mild cautions for language and themes apply.