Red Chameleon, by Stuart M. Kaminsky

Red Chameleon

I’d read one of the late Stuart M. Kaminsky’s Inspector Porfiry Rostnikov mysteries before, and liked it less than his other work. But in the wake of my enjoyment of James Church’s North Korean police procedurals, I decided to try another Rostnikov book, Red Chameleon. And indeed I enjoyed it more than I expected, though I don’t think this particular series will ever be my favorite section of Kaminsky’s oeuvre. That’s not a criticism of the writing. I just prefer the more positive tone of his American stories.

Chief Inspector Porfiry Rostnikov is a fire plug of a man. With one leg crippled during the Battle of Moscow in World War II, he compensates by lifting weights, and is immensely strong. He is also honest and compassionate, and thus doomed to eternal frustration in the Moscow police system.

Unlike James Church’s Inspector O, Rostnikov is not mortally committed to the Fatherland. In fact, in the previous book he made an attempt to blackmail his superiors into allowing him, and his son and Jewish wife, to emigrate to America (he loves American mystery novels, especially Ed McBain).

That effort failed, and now he’s been shunted off to obscure duties and “unimportant” cases, such as the murder of an old Jewish man in his bathtub. But then one of his superiors’ automobile is stolen, and Rostnikov is called up to the first team again, because the man really wants his car back.

Questions are asked, inquiries made. Cases intertwine. Facts are learned.

But the big lies must remain in place. For the “good” of all, and for safety’s sake.

Though not the most enjoyable of Kaminsky’s books (in my opinion), the Inspector Rostnikov books are probably his most literary. Kaminsky excels at sketching interesting, layered characters. One of the most interesting is, oddly, the one with the least personality, Inspector Emil Karpo. A man with no sense of humor at all (perhaps he has Asperger’s), unquestioningly devoted to the Revolution, Karpo could easily be made into a caricature and a figure of fun. Instead, Kaminsky presents him as a man whose concentration makes him a very good detective indeed, within his limitations. Rostnikov is wise enough to take advantage of his strengths and forgive his blind spots.

Red Chameleon is not a cheerful book, but it’s a very good one, in the Russian tradition, from an always reliable author. Recommended.

Deconstructing Jared

I apologize for adding to the sum total of posts about Jared Loughner. This will be the only one I do—I hope.

I found this post by Rich Horton at Blue Crab Boulevard extremely interesting. If you want a plausible scapegoat for the shootings, why not Jacques Derrida?

But if you absolutely need to blame someone else, why not look to the things that obviously did inspire Loughner? Like a lot of other people I too looked at Loughner’s YouTube ravings, and it became clear to me there was something Loughner drew upon as “inspiration” of a sort. Clearly Loughner had either been introduced to in college or read on his own something of the philosophical perspective known as “deconstructionism.” You can see this in his obsession with “grammar” and the supposed meaninglessness of language. Something like this was obviously the source of Loughner’s nonsense question to Giffords back in 2007. Loughner gets introduced to the idea that texts have no set meaning, and when confronted by a member of Congress whose very position and status is defined by a text (i.e. the Constitution) Loughner now believes is devoid of content, well, he begins to think of her as a charlatan or tyrant.

One of the most common accusations we hear from atheists is that religion drives people to violence. Many arguments against religion are framed in terms of religious people being inherently prone to murder, because we value dogmas over people. “Religion has killed more people than anything else in history,” we are told (such people never seem to notice the fact that, in the one century in which atheist governments have actually existed, they’ve managed to even—or better—the score).

But look at a non-religious methodology like Derrida’s deconstructionism. (I can’t claim to speak knowledgeably about deconstructionism. My comprehension of it is at the bonehead level. As is, without a doubt, Loughner’s). Deconstructionism, as I understand it, involves a belief that reality is so incredibly complex that we can’t actually know it in any way, that when we imagine we understand anything, we’re fooling ourselves. We can’t understand what words mean. We can’t be sure of our own experiences or memories. We can’t be sure that we interact with other human beings in any meaningful way. Under such a world view (at least as dummies like me and Loughner would understand it), we are utterly alone in the universe, adrift and unconnected.

Now please note my next point. I am not saying that deconstructionism leads inevitably to insanity and violence like the shootings in Arizona. I have no doubt that many deconstructionists are decent people, good neighbors, and caring parents. (Whether their lives are consistent with their philosophy is not the issue here.)

What I’m saying is that whatever world view you adopt, a metaphysic comes with it. And that metaphysic provides a form for the nut’s nutty ideas. Religion does not drive people to madness or violence. Religion—like ideology, and even literary theory—simply forms an armature on which the insane person builds his personal monster.

In fact, if a man must be insane, wouldn’t you rather he thought he was Jesus (and tried to act like Him) than that he thought he was Napoleon?

Organizations: One bad, one going bad

Doktor Luther’s Twitter Feed directs us to this item from the London Daily Mail, featuring recently published color photographs from Adolf Hitler’s Nazi Party “Christmas” celebration in 1941.

Details not included in the article’s photos, but very important, are noted in the accompanying article:

But the Nazi Christmas was far from traditional.

Hitler believed religion had no place in his 1,000-year Reich, so he replaced the Christian figure of Saint Nicholas with the Norse god Odin and urged Germans to celebrate the season as a holiday of the ‘winter solstice’, rather than Christmas.

Out of sight at the top of the tree behind Hitler was a swastika instead of an angel, and many of the baubles carried runic symbols and iron cross motifs. The remarkable pictures were captured by Hugo Jaeger, one of the Fuhrer’s personal photographers.

No, Nazism was not a Christian movement. No matter what Bill Maher tells you.

Also, another fine piece at the American Spectator by my friend Hal G. P. Colebatch, about the British YWCA’s recent decision to drop the organization’s historical name (with it’s icky C, standing for Christian), and to change its name to Platform 51:

In a further maneuver in the one-way war against British traditions and values, what was known for 156 years as the Young Women’s Christian Association has dropped the word “Christian,” along with the rest of its title, changing its name to Platform 51. Continue reading Organizations: One bad, one going bad

Night of Thunder, by Stephen Hunter

Night of Thunder

I’d fallen behind in my Stephen Hunter reading the last year or so. I get most of my books from a used book store, and they never seem to have any Hunter in stock. But I recently got a chance to order his two most recent paperbacks, and Night of Thunder is the first in line.

Night of Thunder is about NASCAR, the races, the business, and the culture. It exhibits many of the qualities of NASCAR itself—lots of action, lots of color, plenty of thrills, and very little substance. In other words, Night of Thunder is an entertainment, the most purely cotton candy, Coors-in-a-cooler, hoo-rah spectacle of any of Hunter’s novels. That sounds like a put-down, but it all depends on what you’re looking for. Nobody delivers more entertainment per consumer dollar than Stephen Hunter, and you’ll have fun with this book. But I don’t think you’ll remember it long. Continue reading Night of Thunder, by Stephen Hunter

Eternal Snow

“THE WORLD of ice and of eternal snow, as unfolded to us on the summits of the neighbouring Alpine chain, so stern, so solitary, so dangerous, it may be, has yet its own peculiar charm. Not only does it enchain the attention of the natural philosopher, who finds in it the most wonderful disclosures as to the present and past history of the globe, but every summer it entices thousands of travellers of all conditions, who find there mental and bodily recreation. While some content themselves with admiring from afar the dazzling adornment which the pure, luminous masses of snowy peaks, interposed between the deeper blue of the sky and the succulent green of the meadows, lend to the landscape, others more boldly penetrate into the strange world, willingly subjecting themselves to the most extreme degrees of exertion and danger, if only they may fill themselves with the aspect of its sublimity.” — Hermann von Helmholtz, from his lecture on ice and glaciers

"Animal Hour" Film Deal

Andrew Klavan has news of a agreement with Arilu Inc and Avida Entertainment Inc. to take the novel Animal Hour to the theaters. Klavan has a screenplay adaptation already. The deal gives these two companies one year to find the funds and talent for a movie.

Carpin' about my generation

Another snow-blowing night. Again we had that particular quality of snow, not wet but prone to sit in a lump in the chute anyway, rather than blowing out as it ought. It’s a heavy snow, leaden in quality. Or else something’s wrong with my snow blower. But it works fine when the chute’s clear, which lasts for the time it takes to clear the distance of about a foot, before I have to stop and clear it out again. With a stick. This is the first point in the Snow Blower’s Catechism—Thou Shalt Not Clear a Jam With Thy Hand. That way amputation lies.

We don’t actually have all that much snow yet, and there’s more scheduled for tonight and tomorrow. But I have a matter of family business to attend to tomorrow, and I’m not sure how long that’ll take. Which also means there may or may not be a blog post from me tomorrow.

Ori Pomerantz directed me to this excellent essay, Slouching Toward Geezerhood, from Bruce Thornton at RightNetwork. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the blunt truths of the universal tragedy that is the Baby Boomer Generation better expressed.

The most obvious feature of the Boomers is their refusal to grow up. The ever-extending length of adolescence, a confection of modernity, partly accounts for this. Post-war affluence made it affordable to prolong further this historically novel time of life between childhood and adulthood. Consumerism took advantage of the new market and the greater surplus wealth to elevate in social importance the whims and desires of a group flush with disposable income. The result was the most pampered, obsessed over, and indulged generation in American history. Why wouldn’t they want to prolong this privileged position as long as possible?

There’s much more, but I particularly like that thought. I’ve believed for some time that the whole phenomenon of the Teenager was a cosmically successful marketing ploy, designed to squeeze mountains of cash out of kids with unprecedented amounts the stuff to spend. Catch ’em while they still have no impulse control, and they’re yours forever. And if the moral fiber of the nation is goes from six-ply to two-ply, hey, that’s business.

A startlingly anti-capitalist sentiment from a conservative, I know. But capitalism isn’t a pure good any more than government is. Balance is the key, and has been part of the American genius… up till now.

Read it all.

It will not cheer you up.

Cruciform Press

“What would a book-publishing company for gospel-centered Christians look like if it began with the realities of 21st century technology?” Look no further. This is a new publisher formed by Kevin Meath, Bob Bevington, and Tim Challies over the passed year. My cousin, Jimmy Davis, has a book roughly on the same subject as his blog coming out the first of April.

Don Miller on The Church's Voice in Your Head

Relief Journal links to questions asked by author Don Miller on how people in church affect your creativity. It may be helpful to have specific people, not just “the church,” critiquing our work, but Miller still makes fair points.

When Is a Lie Actually Libel?

Glenn Reynolds talks about the words flying around from those wanting to accuse Gov. Palin and the Tea Part Movement of inciting the violence of a young man who has reportedly been obsessed with Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords for the last three years.

To be clear, if you’re using this event to criticize the “rhetoric” of Mrs. Palin or others with whom you disagree, then you’re either: (a) asserting a connection between the “rhetoric” and the shooting, which based on evidence to date would be what we call a vicious lie; or (b) you’re not, in which case you’re just seizing on a tragedy to try to score unrelated political points, which is contemptible. Which is it?

Ed Morrissey quotes diverse sources on this topic, noting how many people want to restrict freedom of speech to their own ideological supporters. (via Books, Inq)

Book Reviews, Creative Culture