Alexis Grant, a journalist working on a travel memoir on the side, has a good list on why a writer should keep a day job.
Two biographies of Davy Crockett
“When I got there, it was to the utter astonishment of my wife; for she supposed I was dead. My neighbours who had started with me had returned and took my horse home, which they had found with theirs; and they reported that they had seen men who had helped to bury me; and who saw me draw my last breath. I know’d this was a whapper of a lie, as soon as I heard it.”
This Mark Twain-esque passage comes from A Narrative Of the Life of David Crockett, Of the State Of Tennessee. It purports to be the autobiography of Congressman Crockett. Historians are divided as to the extent of the truth of that claim. It’s now known that he collaborated with a fellow congressman and Baptist minister, Thomas Chilton, to produce the book. No one knows how much Crockett actually contributed (writing was a hard job for him, he himself admitted). Still, for this reader, the narrator’s voice is unmistakable, and I thought I could tell when an educated hand took over to insert more refined passages.
If Davy Crockett had been born in the 20th Century, he’d have lived in a trailer park. I don’t say that in condescension. He took considerable pride in belonging to the lowest stratum of white society, the movers and fringe population who drifted ahead of the great waves of settlement, living a subsistence life where more Indians than whites dwelt. Until he discovered that his affability and storytelling skills could win him political office, he could boast no distinction at all, aside from being one of Tennessee’s foremost bear hunters. He’d served honorably under Andrew Jackson in the Creek War, but with no great distinction either. He made several efforts to become a man of wealth, but never once achieved any success, except in election. Continue reading Two biographies of Davy Crockett
But It's For the Children
Sara Zarr, author of How to Save a Life
Sara says she feels that way about adult fiction too and asks why it isn’t frequently criticized for being so dark like YA lit has been for many years. What we need in both book fields, she says, is hope, even if the story is a dark one. “We need context, we need excellence, everywhere. Not just for the young.”
Skip this post if you're already depressed
I’d like to direct your attention to a couple of links before I have another say of my own on the issue of homosexual marriage.
First of all, Ed Veith at Cranach links to an article by an Australian sociologist, from The Australian:
Phillips’s use of language implies opponents of gay marriage are likely to be motivated by “old-time religion”, which is by definition “incompatible with modern society”. From this standpoint, criticism or the questioning of the moral status of gay marriage violates the cultural standards of “modern society”. What we have here is the casual affirmation of a double standard: tolerance towards supporters of gay marriage and intolerance directed towards its opponents.
Then, from World Magazine, a report on an effort by military chaplains to get legal protection for their right to believe, and to express their belief, that homosexual behavior is sinful.
And that, I think, goes to the heart of the matter. The true goal of the “gay” movement, I believe, is more than just to end restrictions on homosexuality and homosexual behavior. It is to marginalize, and then criminalize, traditional religious beliefs.
Any religion that holds to the authority of Scripture, whether directly (as in the case of Orthodox Jews) or mediated through the New Testament (as with Christians) is a threat to the spirit of the age. The installation of the “gay” agenda in our laws, and the demand that everyone must respect homosexuality on penalty of law, provides an opportunity to turn matters of faith into matters of statute.
Muslims are a special problem. I’m not sure how Muslims will be handled. The Muslim conundrum (for the Left) may in fact be the only thing to prevent the disasters I see coming.
This is what I see—First, more and more people will lose their jobs on account of their religious beliefs, and they will find they have no recourse to law.
The slogan will be (I’m almost sure it will be worded this way) “There Is No Right To Hate!”
Once that step has been accomplished, the imprisonment and “reeducation” of dissenters will follow, sooner or later. No appeal to constitutional rights can prevail, because “There Is No Right To Hate!”
The church will go underground. Maybe some of us will be able to flee to China, or parts of Africa, where (one hopes) there will by then be some measure of freedom of religion.
I’m not saying true Christianity will disappear. The church will always exist, if only in a persecuted remnant, until the return of the Lord.
Still, I think more and more often of Luke 18:8, “However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”
Reading by Familiar Setting
Scientist and author Tali Sharot likes to read books from places she’s familiar with. She likes The Easter Parade by Richard Yates, because it’s placed in New York. In this interview with the Boston Globe, she describes her reading habits. It’s nice to see people dropping books they are no longer interested in.
The Duchess lives on
Right now I’m reading another of my free Kindle downloads; an American biographical work that I’ll review when I’ve finished it.
The story itself is pretty interesting. The manner of the telling, not so much.
The author, according to his Wikipedia entry, was an estimable man. A Christian clergyman, he devoted his life to the production of uplifting literature.
The man can barely stand to go a paragraph without pausing to direct the reader’s attention to the moral lesson. He wants to make very certain that we are never in doubt when he himself disapproves of his subject’s words or actions.
He also shows very little critical sense. He moves from fairly reliable source material to pure fantasy, and doesn’t seem to notice that his subject’s character and manner of speech have changed radically from one source to the other.
In short, he doesn’t really care about the facts. He only cares about imparting moral lessons. Like the Duchess in Alice in Wonderland, he can’t stop saying, “And the moral of that is…”
And it occurred to me, how is that different from the writings of the postmodernists, in most any discipline? For them as well, facts are irrelevant. The point is the narrative. Since truth (they believe) is relative, whatever you say is true, provided it promotes your personal truth.
The only difference is the goal. The old moralist sought to serve an absolute morality.
The new moralist seeks to serve his own private vision, which for him overrides all other considerations.
But in their methods they are identical.
The Secrets of the Immortal So-and-So
Kevin Holtsberry loves “The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel.” He reviews the latest novel in this series here. He explains:
This is one of those series where the books are not stand alone reads. Each book is more like an episode than a stand alone novel. Once you start you have to keep reading; both to find out what happens but also to explore the world and the mythological characters Scott develops and introduces.
Flash Fiction: Hard Work Night
The bells do not toll but clatterknell from the nightstand, clanging into the dusk’s waning light with the chirigrate of hammering steel. His veined eyes, sunk deeply in his ashen face, crack open. Another graveyard shift ahead, settling dozens of overdue accounts—kill that racket!
He drops his feet to the floor. What if he doesn’t go in tonight? He could take vacation. Who would care? Would the world stop spinning?
The dog whimpers at the door.
No. Duty summons.
Death, the Grim Usher, stumbles out of bed, hoping the coffee maker isn’t burned out again, Cerberus licking his heels.
Frankenstein: The Dead Town, by Dean Koontz
“The pages [of the original Frankenstein] reek with your bottomless self-pity so poorly disguised as regret, with the phoniness of your verbose self-condemnation, with the insidious quality of your contrition, which is that of a materialist who cares not for God and is therefore not true contrition at all, but only despair at the consequences of your actions. For centuries, I have been the monster, and you the well-meaning idealist who claims he would have undone what he did if only given the chance. But your kind never undoes. You do the same wrong over and over, with ever greater fervency, causing ever more misery, because you are incapable of admitting error.”
“I’ve made no error,” Victor Immaculate confidently assures him, “and neither did your maker.”
Looming, the giant says, “You are my maker.”
Thus Frankenstein’s monster, now known as Deucalion, purified by suffering and made truly human, addresses Dr. Frankenstein, so corrupted by power and pride that he has ceased to be human at all, in Frankenstein: The Dead Town, the dramatic climax to Dean Koontz’ five-book deconstruction of Mary Shelley’s original narrative.
It should be clear to all regular readers that I’m pretty much in the bag for Dean Koontz. Not the greatest prose stylist around, he is nevertheless one of the few authors whose writing has gotten constantly better since he became a publishing superstar. He creates amusing and engaging characters who know how to talk to each other, and keeps them in escalating peril, mesmerizing the reader. He’s optimistic without being sappy, and can deal with tragedy without inducing despair.
In this book, all the main characters who first met in New Orleans, the detective couple Carson and Michael, the genetically-engineered Bride of Frankenstein, Erika, along with her adopted child, the troll-like Jocko, Deucalion the monster, and Victor Frankenstein (or rather his clone) all come to a final showdown in the town of Rainbow Falls, Montana. At the end of the previous installment, an army of Victor’s genetically engineered killers had cut the town off and begun murdering and “reprocessing” the inhabitants, as the start to a program to destroy all life on earth (Victor judges it messy and inefficient). Humanity’s only hope is Deucalion, who was endowed at his creation with powers over physical space. But he needs his human (and somewhat human) friends to help him. Victor Frankenstein has also failed to anticipate the difficulties involved in overcoming a population of God-fearing, gun-owning American westerners. Continue reading Frankenstein: The Dead Town, by Dean Koontz
Philip Roth Gives Up on Fiction
Author Philip Roth received the Man Booker International Award for Fiction today. The Financial Times of the United Kingdom reports Roth has won every important American fiction award during his 50-year career.
Now, he tells the Times he has “wised up” and stopped reading fiction. No further explanation.