According to my editor, West Oversea has gone to press.
Gov. Palin to Write Memoir
There’s a book in the works from Gov. Sarah Palin to describe her life in Alaska and her experiences in presidential politics. She will be writing the book herself, working with a more experienced co-author. As far as I know, the co-author will not be Franklin Graham, pictured with Mrs. Palin below.
The Porkchoppers, by Ross Thomas
I went through a Ross Thomas phrase quite a few years ago, and once I’d gotten a little ways into The Porkchoppers, I realized I’d already read this one. But that was OK. I’d forgotten who did what—not that that was the chief delight of the book anyway.
Ross Thomas (he passed away, much regretted, in 1995) specialized in quirky, cynical crime novels featuring low-life characters who nevertheless were recognizably human and, to one degree or another, sympathetic. He could also be very funny. He wrote political novels too, and the way Thomas portrayed it, politics wasn’t much different from crime.
The world of labor union politics would seem custom made for Thomas’ method, and the master does not disappoint. The Porkchoppers (“porkchopper” is union slang for an officer primarily concerned with his own personal benefits), first published 1972, centers on Donald Cubbin, long-time head of a major union. Cubbin is almost the walking definition of an “empty suit”—he never really cared much about the job, and is mostly operating on autopilot nowadays, his alcoholism having become acute. His real dream in life was to be a Hollywood actor, and he nearly got the chance once—a missed opportunity that still haunts him. He has a personal handler who keeps his booze level topped up, and his much younger wife is sleeping with someone else.
He’s largely a sympathetic character.
His election opponent is Sammy Hanks, a hard-driving, ugly little scrapper who seems like a better candidate in many ways—except that he’s slightly psychotic, and occasionally goes into uncontrollable, spitting tantrums.
Very powerful, very wealthy men are highly interested in the results of this election. The very opening of the novel informs us that a murder contract has been taken out on Cubbin.
But it’s not as simple as that.
The most sympathetic character in the book is Cubbin’s son Kelly, a failed policeman. He’s kind and honest, and (thus far) untouched by the corruption all around him, though he also takes it for granted. He supplies his dad with drinks without qualms.
Thomas has the rare gift of empathizing with his characters without sentimentality. He shows his reader the wheels within wheels of power, and it’s a fascinating tour.
If there’s a lesson or a moral, I have no idea what it is. But I enjoyed the trip.
End Demand
If there were no buyers, there would be no sellers and no victims. I’m told that the demand for young girls is increasing, and the buyer is an average American man. This is evil. I’m know I’m being vague, but hard to talk about sex trafficking in any context.
That zincing feeling
It was what I think of as a successful weekend—one in which I get several things done.
(That reads as if I were a Type A, obsessive, can’t-sit-down-because-civilization-as-we-know-it-depends-on-my-output Achiever. This is not the case. Pretty much any weekend of mine will include large stretches of lying on the couch with a book. That’s why accomplishing a few things matters to me. It means I haven’t succeeded in frittering the whole talent away.) Continue reading That zincing feeling
Scanner in Havanner
How is that celebrities, even relatively sane ones (there are a few) who don’t usually air their politics in public, so frequently come out with praise for Fidel Castro and his totalitarian Cuban government?
Newsbusters passes on a report from the Canada Free Press, which provides a simple answer. They were blackmailed.
“When the celebrity visitors arrived at the hotels Nacional, Melia Habana and Melia Cohiba,” says Fernandez, “we already had their rooms completely bugged with sophisticated taping equipment. But not just the rooms, we’d also follow the visitors around. Sometimes we covered them 24 hours a day. They had no idea we were tailing them.”
Say what you like about old Fidel, but he always knew how to speak a language they understand in Hollywood.
Tip: Conservative Grapevine.
Discuss my book before you’ve even read it!
Here’s a Goodreads discussion site for West Oversea.
Thanks to Dale Nelson for bringing to it my attention.
West Oversea WOOT!
I just bought two copies of Lars’ latest on the Nordskog Publishing page. Order your copies there too and take a look at those reader blurb to see some names we’ve seen here.
Next stop, a campaign to get West Oversea chosen for many city-wide reading programs throughout the country. (I’m kidding actually, but I wonder how something like that could be done.)
In which I make the world a better place by correcting you
In connection with the film clip Phil posted below (compiled from footage of Vikings at the Tivoli Fest, Elk Horn, Iowa three years ago), I have finally got my plans nailed down to go to Tivoli again this year, my third time. The dates are May 23 & 24. It’s a long drive, causing one to seriously ponder the eternal question of whether we’d all save a lot of gas if federal highways had been laid out diagonally, instead of east-west, north-south. But you can get there from here, and I’ve proved it before. (There’s always the thrill of bypassing John Wayne’s home town [Winterset, Iowa] as you go.)
Tonight, for no particular reason, I’d like to list three common word mispronunciations that irritate me and make life not worth living.
First, “Prostate.” There is only one “r” in prostate, when you’re talking about the embarrassing male organ. “Prostrate” is commonly substituted for it, but prostrate is how you’re left after the surgery.
Second, “Realty.” In my experience, about 90% of Americans pronounce it “ree-la-tee,” instead of “ree-ahl-tee.” (I’m sure you know this; I’m explaining it for that other guy over there.) I once corrected a female acquaintance on this point, and she said, “I used to work for a ree-la-tor.”
Third, “Calvary.” Lots and lots of people believe that Christ was crucified on some sort of battlefield where mounted warriors had once clashed. Note the placement of the “l” and the “v.” “Cal-vary” is where Christ was executed. “Cav-alry” is the Charge of the Light Brigade and Custer’s Last Stand and “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon,” which brings us back to John Wayne, and so neatly wraps up this post.
Have a nice weekend.
On the Best and Worst of Culture
Richard Doster has a novel coming this June, Crossing the Lines, about a sports writer who explores the reasons southern culture can produce beautiful artwork and entertainment while also rejecting the black people around them. Segregation and oppression appears to have inspired great music and literature.
I watched the Mississippi pass, wondering what would matter in a thousand years. And who, when my great grandchildren ran the business, would have had the more profound effect on the world: W. A. Gayle, the mayor of Montgomery, or Sam Phillips, the founder of Sun Records? Who, fifty years from now, would have had the greater impact: Marvin Griffin, the governor of Georgia—a man who had power, influence, and more friends than a movie star? Or Martin Luther King, a Negro pastor who couldn’t get a seat in most of Atlanta’s restaurants?
B.B. King once played on street corners to pay his power bill. Howling Wolf had played in overalls and cut up shoes. I’d listened to Willie Kizart make a miracle through a cracked amplifier he couldn’t afford to fix. And I wondered, there on the east bank of the Mississippi, who’d done more to make the world better: them, or the Arkansas state legislator Jim Johnson?