“The liberal bias of the mainstream media tilts so far left that any outlets not in that political lane, like the Drudge Report and Fox News Channel, look far more conservative than they really are, according to a UCLA professor’s new book out next month.” writes Paul Bedard in a review of Left Turn: How Liberal Media Bias Distorts the American Mind
Do They Have Crime in Ireland?
John Connolly talks about Irish readers’ lack of interest in crime novels. He says the Irish naturally clash with systemic qualities of crime fiction, such as urban life and respect for police. An Irish inferiority complex may come into play too.
After all, crime fiction is less about the world as it is than the world as it should be. As William Gaddis wrote in his novel JR (1976): “Justice? – you get justice in the next world, in this world, you have the law.”
Crime fiction refuses to accept that this should be the case, and in doing so it reflects the desire of its readers for a more just society. Even at its darkest it is, essentially, hopeful by nature.
Perhaps, for the Irish, that hope is yet to come. (via Books, Inc.)
Friday Fight: Will the Spear Prevail?
It’s Friday, a good day for a fight.
Midnight Pass, by Stuart M. Kaminsky
I believe this is the last “new” Lew Fonesca book I’ll be able to read, and that makes me sad. Midnight Pass isn’t the last book in the series (that was Always Say Goodbye, which I’ve already reviewed). But it was the last one I found. Stuart M. Kaminsky’s bald little hero, whose stories would never have appealed to me purely on the basis of their synopses, won me over completely. I miss all the books Kaminsky might have written if he’d lived, but I miss the Lew Fonesca stories most.
Lew Fonesca, if you’re not familiar with him, is a man hiding from life. After the death of his wife he moved from Chicago to Sarasota, where he lives in a room behind his tiny office. His existence consists of delivering summonses during the day and watching old movies on his VCR at night. At least that’s his plan. But life keeps intruding. People need help. He helps them. They tend to become friends. Lew’s saga (I only realized it after reading this book) is the story of the gradual re-integration of a traumatized personality. These books could have been downers, but in fact they’re full of hope.
In this story, Lew is hired by a minister, also a city council member, to find a fellow councilman who has disappeared and whose vote is needed to fight a development project. He also gets involved in the problems of a married couple, involving the wife running off with her husband’s business partner. There’s kidnapping, and shots are fired. Meanwhile, Lew keeps his appointments with his therapist, and contemplates becoming a Big Brother. In the end he solves the mysteries and averts some evil.
Reading a Lew Fonesca mystery is like spending time with the best friend you ever had. I’ll miss you, Lew.
Cautions for language and violence, but nothing over the top.
Self-prescribed Tunnel Vision
If we continue to watch only the titillating shows and avoid the thoughtful ones, if we get out of the house only for novelty, then eventually all of entertainment will be sequels, writes A.G. Harmon in Image Journal. “If to exercise the body we must accept discomfort, pushing beyond pain,” he states, “to exercise the mind requires a related effort, an involvement that rejects the passive, formaldehyde bath of strobing visuals. A human is more than his eyes—certainly more than his ocular reflexes—and to be human means breaking free of this dangerous trap.”
We could easily dismiss this if Harmon was referring only to popular entertainment, meaning that which is nationally distributed in some way. But I’m sure he is urging us to embrace our local culture by attending concerts, plays, art shows, story-tellings, jamborees and town hall meetings (touching on the civic side of public involvement). By seeking only the exciting or shocking stuff, we risk narrowing our vision, withdrawing into our inner space, and closing off most of the world. Harmon warns us against an obsession with personal comfort.
Ulysses Among the Dead
Since this is Bloomsday for some, let me direct your attention to an old post on Scott Huler’s book, No-Man’s Lands: One Man’s Odyssey Through The Odyssey
Today Is–Do You Care?
June 16 is National Fudge Day in America. While quacks in Dublin are raising pints to each other for Bloomsday, we right-minded, freedom-loving Americans are baking fudge, pouring it on our ice cream, browsing the varieties at specialty shops, and chucking last year’s frost-burned fudge bars at errant congressmen.
But speaking of Bloomsday, Frank Delaney’s podcast actually makes Joyce’s Ulysses sound interesting. Maybe the key to enjoying Ulysses is listening to someone who’s read it talk about it.
Wild Bill's Last Trail, by Ned Buntline
According to an anecdote, E. Z. C. Judson, better known as Ned Buntline, traveled west to Fort McPherson, Nebraska, to meet the famous pistoleer, Wild Bill Hickok, about whom he wished to write dime novels. He found him in his natural environment (a saloon), and rushed up to him, crying, “There’s my man! I want you!” Hickok pulled a revolver on him and told him to be out of town in 24 hours.
Perhaps it’s the memory of Wild Bill’s nickel-plated Colt Navy .36 that accounts for the jaundiced view of the man we find in the deservedly forgotten little novel, Wild Bill’s Last Trail.
Ned Buntline
I downloaded it to read on my Kindle because I’m a Wild Bill buff, and although I’ve read much about Buntline over the years (whatever they tell you in the movies, he never gave Wyatt Earp a long-barreled revolver) but had never savored the quality of his actual prose.
Well, it’s quality prose, in the sense that pretentiousness is a quality, and floridity is a quality too.
“…there’s a shadow as cold as ice on my soul! I’ve never felt right since I pulled on that red-haired Texan at Abilene, in Kansas. You remember, for you was there. It was kill or get killed, you know, and when I let him have his ticket for a six-foot lot of ground he gave one shriek—it rings in my years yet. He spoke but one word— ‘Sister!’ Yet that word has never left my ears, sleeping or waking, from that time to this.”
I must admit that, although I expected the purple prose and the improbable action, one aspect of the book surprised me. I had expected “white hats” and “black hats,” one-dimensional good guys and bad guys. But in fact, this is a Wild West where the deer and the ambivalent play. Wild Bill is arguably the real villain, and everybody who wants to kill him (there are many) seems to have a good reason. One sympathetic character—shades of Dances With Wolves—is not only a professional killer, but has made common cause with the Sioux and plans to join Sitting Bull.
The only explanation I can think of for all this is that Ned must have really held a grudge for the Fort McPherson incident. He also finds numerous opportunities to condemn Wild Bill’s drinking (Ned Buntline made a sideline of lecturing on Temperance—utterly hypocritically, as he drank plenty himself),
I might add that the climax manages to be at once melodramatic, historically inaccurate, and confusing. If you can figure it out on the first reading, you’re a better reader than I am.
Not a good book, Wild Bill’s Last Trail is an interesting historical curiosity.
Literature vs. Trash
“Literature is the right use of language irrespective of the subject or reason of the utterance. A political speech may be, and sometimes is, literature; a sonnet to the moon may be, and often is, trash. Style is what distinguishes literature from trash,” writes Evelyn Waugh, and he backs it up too. This link is particularly relevant to our blog because I posted a G.M.Hopkins poem to the moon earlier this week.
Friedman: Is the Book Dead? Who Cares!
Publishing is still innovating, says Jane Friedman, so even if one type of book becomes permanently out of print, other types will live on. Printed books won’t go out of print any time soon, but other types me dominate the future market. Remember the first cell phones? What if today’s Kindles and Nooks looked like that in 10-20 years compared to what they will become?