David Schwinghammer's Blog, page 22
February 13, 2014
SOUTH OF SUPERIOR
I'm from central Minnesota but the Upper Peninsula of Michigan reminds me a lot of Minnesota because of its mining and logging heritage, along with the Ojibwa Indians and the Finnish miners and their descendents who live there. Then of course there's Lake Superior, which we also have in common. The North Shore is some of the most beautiful country in the United States. I also read a book entitled Bloodstoppers and Bearwalkers (think Tony Hillerman's Skinwalkers) about the characters who roam the northern woods of the Upper Peninsula. Believe me, they are some of the most unique people I've ever read about.
Ellen Airgood's SOUTH OF SUPERIOR is about Madeline Stone a young woman who returns to McAllaster, Michigan, to help take care of her great aunt Arubutus who lives with her cranky sister Gladys. She goes to work at a local pizza parlor to help pay her way, where she falls in love with Paul the owner who also works at a nearby prison as a guard to make ends meet. Trouble is, he's in love with another woman. Some would say he really loves Randi's Hopkins' son Greyson.
Madeline also loves the hotel Gladys used to own, which is so run down it would take a fortune to remodel.
Obviously this story is about the characters rather than plot, and there are lots of them. There's Madeline's great uncle Walter, whom she didn't even know was still alive. There are the Bensons who are trying to buy the hotel and turn it into a parking lot. There is Mary Feather, a former cook for the lumberjacks, Emil a nonagenarian who drinks too much but is much loved by almost everyone in town.
Madeline is also a painter; she sneaks up to the attic of the hotel as often as possible to paint the landscape. The hotel soon becomes an obsession.
There's not much plot here, but if you like novels based on characterization you'll love this. Besides, the author looks just like I imagined Madeline would.
Comment |
Ellen Airgood's SOUTH OF SUPERIOR is about Madeline Stone a young woman who returns to McAllaster, Michigan, to help take care of her great aunt Arubutus who lives with her cranky sister Gladys. She goes to work at a local pizza parlor to help pay her way, where she falls in love with Paul the owner who also works at a nearby prison as a guard to make ends meet. Trouble is, he's in love with another woman. Some would say he really loves Randi's Hopkins' son Greyson.
Madeline also loves the hotel Gladys used to own, which is so run down it would take a fortune to remodel.
Obviously this story is about the characters rather than plot, and there are lots of them. There's Madeline's great uncle Walter, whom she didn't even know was still alive. There are the Bensons who are trying to buy the hotel and turn it into a parking lot. There is Mary Feather, a former cook for the lumberjacks, Emil a nonagenarian who drinks too much but is much loved by almost everyone in town.
Madeline is also a painter; she sneaks up to the attic of the hotel as often as possible to paint the landscape. The hotel soon becomes an obsession.
There's not much plot here, but if you like novels based on characterization you'll love this. Besides, the author looks just like I imagined Madeline would.
Comment |
February 10, 2014
LAKE OF TEARS
When I saw the review for LAKE OF TEARS, a mystery featuring a woman sheriff of a small town, I was thinking “Marge Gunderson!” No such luck. Although Mary Logue has published twelve mystery novels, many featuring Claire Watkins, this book is nothing like “Fargo”.
At the beginning of the book, the sheriff in the county seat of Fort St. Antoine, Wisconsin, has a heart attack, and Claire takes his place, just in time to be confronted with a skeleton imbedded in a replica of a Norwegian longboat set afire to celebrate the town’s Norwegian heritage.
This book is different in that a couple of the characters are Afghanistan vets, suffering from PTS; one of the suspects who had been a boyfriend of the victim prior to his war service is a newly hired deputy on Claire’s staff. One of his best friends from the war also shows up looking for the deputy. Another suspect is the girl’s current boyfriend who had given her a diamond engagement ring. He and Andrew Stickler, the deputy, had locked horns previously, apparently over the girl.
Logue throwS in a further complication with Stickler, aged 26, dating her daughter, Meg, 18.
Otherwise, LAKE OF TEARS reads like a episode of “Law and Order” or one of the numerous cops shows on TV. It’s short, only 207 pages, and Logue takes the easy way out in respect to resolution, but I didn’t hate it. I guess I’ll have to wait for the new “Fargo” TV series, sanctioned by the Coen brothers, to get my “Fargo” buzz.
At the beginning of the book, the sheriff in the county seat of Fort St. Antoine, Wisconsin, has a heart attack, and Claire takes his place, just in time to be confronted with a skeleton imbedded in a replica of a Norwegian longboat set afire to celebrate the town’s Norwegian heritage.
This book is different in that a couple of the characters are Afghanistan vets, suffering from PTS; one of the suspects who had been a boyfriend of the victim prior to his war service is a newly hired deputy on Claire’s staff. One of his best friends from the war also shows up looking for the deputy. Another suspect is the girl’s current boyfriend who had given her a diamond engagement ring. He and Andrew Stickler, the deputy, had locked horns previously, apparently over the girl.
Logue throwS in a further complication with Stickler, aged 26, dating her daughter, Meg, 18.
Otherwise, LAKE OF TEARS reads like a episode of “Law and Order” or one of the numerous cops shows on TV. It’s short, only 207 pages, and Logue takes the easy way out in respect to resolution, but I didn’t hate it. I guess I’ll have to wait for the new “Fargo” TV series, sanctioned by the Coen brothers, to get my “Fargo” buzz.
February 9, 2014
KILL ROOM
In Jeffery Deaver's new novel, THE KILL ROOM applies to a drone pilot's "cockpit" . Once again, Deaver diverges from most modern mystery writers in that he deals with an actual theme: does the government have the ethical authority to kill an American citizen who has ties to terrorism?
Thanks to an operation, Lincoln Rhyme now has the ability to use one of his hands, although he doesn't have any feeling in that hand. He can also move around in a souped-up wheel chair.
Deaver creates a fictional government service called the National Intelligence and Operations Service (NIOS) which runs covert operations where they assassinate American enemies bent on harming the U.S. Shreve Metzger, a man with serious anger issues, is the head of this organization. Lincoln and Amelia Sachs go to work for Nance Laurel, a federal prosecutor, who wants to take Metzger down for the murder of Robert Moreno (an American citizen who has hated America ever since his best friend was killed during the Panama invasion) targeted by a drone equipped with a high-powered rifle. Two people are killed along with Moreno: Moreno's body guard and a journalist who was interviewing him at the time.
Of course Metzger didn't kill Moreno himself, so Lincoln and Amelia focus on the hit man and his partner "the fixer" who tried to destroy all the evidence. At first they think the killer is a sniper and he shot Moreno with a high powered rifle from an almost impossible distance. The reporter and the body guard are killed by shards of glass. Because of his new-found mobility Lincoln is able to visit the Bahamas, the kill sight.
Deaver also throws in some verisimilitude. The "fixer," who calls himself Jacob Swan, also considers himself a chef and a gourmet. He's also a psychopath who likes to torture his victims with a fancy knife. Deaver will also include a mystery within a mystery occasionally. Metzger refers to the president as "The Wizard." Like all politicians he seems to support Metzger's operation but only so far as it's expedient to product his own behind. Deaver also gives the Wizard fancy socks, so there is a possibility he had somebody in mind who was once the head of the CIA .
Of course the reader must remember that this is Jeffery Deaver we're dealing with; he's capable of more twists and turns than Barry Sanders. And once again that's the problem I had with the book. The tone changes in the last quarter of the book. At first we believe Deaver agrees with Nance Laurel, the murder of an American citizen by the government is a high crime. Because of the twist at the end of the book, that doesn't seem to be the case.
Thanks to an operation, Lincoln Rhyme now has the ability to use one of his hands, although he doesn't have any feeling in that hand. He can also move around in a souped-up wheel chair.
Deaver creates a fictional government service called the National Intelligence and Operations Service (NIOS) which runs covert operations where they assassinate American enemies bent on harming the U.S. Shreve Metzger, a man with serious anger issues, is the head of this organization. Lincoln and Amelia Sachs go to work for Nance Laurel, a federal prosecutor, who wants to take Metzger down for the murder of Robert Moreno (an American citizen who has hated America ever since his best friend was killed during the Panama invasion) targeted by a drone equipped with a high-powered rifle. Two people are killed along with Moreno: Moreno's body guard and a journalist who was interviewing him at the time.
Of course Metzger didn't kill Moreno himself, so Lincoln and Amelia focus on the hit man and his partner "the fixer" who tried to destroy all the evidence. At first they think the killer is a sniper and he shot Moreno with a high powered rifle from an almost impossible distance. The reporter and the body guard are killed by shards of glass. Because of his new-found mobility Lincoln is able to visit the Bahamas, the kill sight.
Deaver also throws in some verisimilitude. The "fixer," who calls himself Jacob Swan, also considers himself a chef and a gourmet. He's also a psychopath who likes to torture his victims with a fancy knife. Deaver will also include a mystery within a mystery occasionally. Metzger refers to the president as "The Wizard." Like all politicians he seems to support Metzger's operation but only so far as it's expedient to product his own behind. Deaver also gives the Wizard fancy socks, so there is a possibility he had somebody in mind who was once the head of the CIA .
Of course the reader must remember that this is Jeffery Deaver we're dealing with; he's capable of more twists and turns than Barry Sanders. And once again that's the problem I had with the book. The tone changes in the last quarter of the book. At first we believe Deaver agrees with Nance Laurel, the murder of an American citizen by the government is a high crime. Because of the twist at the end of the book, that doesn't seem to be the case.
February 5, 2014
THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG IN THE NIGHT-TIME
THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG IN THE NIGHT-TIME is not, repeat not, a mystery. The protagonist is a fifteen-year-old autistic boy who discovers his next-door neighbor's poodle, stabbed to death with a garden fork. He then sets out to discover who did it and write about it as a project for school.
Christopher John Francis Boone is the narrator and he loves to "do the maths", can't stand to be touched, and hates the colors yellow and brown. He sprinkles red food coloring on his food because he loves the color red. The next-door-neighbor blames Christopher for the death of her poodle and calls the police. When the policeman touches him, Christopher hits him and is carted off to jail. They let him out when his father explains about his "no touching" policy. His father makes him promise to give up his search for the murderer of the poodle, but Christopher can't help himself. Complications ensue.
What's amazing about this book is how much we identify with Christopher, even though he occasionally wets himself and threatens people with a knife. When he sets off to find his mother, who he thought was dead, we are just as scared as he is. He tries to figure things out logically and is good at it, but then his nerves get to him and he shuts down totally, doing "the maths" in his head.
Mark Haddon worked with autistic children as a young man, so if one of his goals was to instill a greater understanding for "special needs" children, he succeeds wonderfully.
Christopher John Francis Boone is the narrator and he loves to "do the maths", can't stand to be touched, and hates the colors yellow and brown. He sprinkles red food coloring on his food because he loves the color red. The next-door-neighbor blames Christopher for the death of her poodle and calls the police. When the policeman touches him, Christopher hits him and is carted off to jail. They let him out when his father explains about his "no touching" policy. His father makes him promise to give up his search for the murderer of the poodle, but Christopher can't help himself. Complications ensue.
What's amazing about this book is how much we identify with Christopher, even though he occasionally wets himself and threatens people with a knife. When he sets off to find his mother, who he thought was dead, we are just as scared as he is. He tries to figure things out logically and is good at it, but then his nerves get to him and he shuts down totally, doing "the maths" in his head.
Mark Haddon worked with autistic children as a young man, so if one of his goals was to instill a greater understanding for "special needs" children, he succeeds wonderfully.
February 3, 2014
THE GOLDFINCH
The set-up for THE GOLDFINCH involves a museum explosion, some sort of homegrown terrorism, in which fourteen-year-old Theo Decker’s mother is killed. Ironically, when Theo comes to (he’s also knocked out) he pulls an old man from the rubble who gives him a ring and directs him toward a painting on the wall that he wants Theo to take.
The painting is THE GOLDFINCH a famous work by Fabritius, a student of Rembrandt’s. We don’t know for sure if the painting was ever stolen, but it is an actual painting you can look at in a Dutch museum. The irony is that Fabritius was killed in an explosion himself that destroyed most of his paintings. Tartt gives us a little lesson on why the painting is so valuable. The bird is chained to its perch, but its feathers look real, except for a brush stroke along the side of one wing, which Fabritius purposefully adds to show the viewer his technique as an artist rather than a photographer.
Decker bounces from New York to Las Vegas and back to New York, where he finally uses the ring to get in touch with the old man’s partner, Hobie, who’s a master craftsman who uses bits and pieces of old classic furniture to make it look new, but he’s a lousy salesman and that’s where Theo comes in. He sells the furniture as if Hobie’s “creations” were actual valuable antiques.
Back in Vegas Theo met Boris, whose accent was hard to pin down; it was part Russian and part Australian. Boris’s father was a miner and had been all over the world and so had Boris. They take a lot of drugs and skip school more than they go. Another character who figures predominately is Pippa, the dying old man’s ward, whom Theo falls in love with. He’s not sure whether she loves him back, and that’s part of what little plot there is. Will Pippa and Theo ever get together? Theo's father, a failed actor, is significant for a while; he had left Theo and his mother in the lurch, but after the bombing he’s suddenly interested in Theo, and that’s how Theo lands in Las Vegas.
The painting plays a role throughout the book; it’s lost and found and lost again. The most painful part of the book is when Theo is stuck in a hotel room in Amsterdam without a passport to leave the country. What we have here is a “talking head”, what writers call a character alone on the stage, essentially talking to himself. If it hadn’t been like page 700, I would have quit reading. The word “whiner” wouldn’t be too severe a description of the boy Boris calls “Potter” because of his round glasses.
Then there’s the relationship between Boris and Theo. The reader should be wondering if Boris is “playing” Theo. He’s already crossed him once. This thread could have added some suspense to the plot, but Tartt has already foreshadowed where that relationship is at the end of the book. Theo tells us when he meets Boris in Las Vegas. There also isn’t much of a character arc for Theo. Although he’s trying to make amends for his shady dealings, he’s the same miserable introvert at the end of the book that he was in Vegas, and we don’t see a whole lot of hope for him.
The painting is THE GOLDFINCH a famous work by Fabritius, a student of Rembrandt’s. We don’t know for sure if the painting was ever stolen, but it is an actual painting you can look at in a Dutch museum. The irony is that Fabritius was killed in an explosion himself that destroyed most of his paintings. Tartt gives us a little lesson on why the painting is so valuable. The bird is chained to its perch, but its feathers look real, except for a brush stroke along the side of one wing, which Fabritius purposefully adds to show the viewer his technique as an artist rather than a photographer.
Decker bounces from New York to Las Vegas and back to New York, where he finally uses the ring to get in touch with the old man’s partner, Hobie, who’s a master craftsman who uses bits and pieces of old classic furniture to make it look new, but he’s a lousy salesman and that’s where Theo comes in. He sells the furniture as if Hobie’s “creations” were actual valuable antiques.
Back in Vegas Theo met Boris, whose accent was hard to pin down; it was part Russian and part Australian. Boris’s father was a miner and had been all over the world and so had Boris. They take a lot of drugs and skip school more than they go. Another character who figures predominately is Pippa, the dying old man’s ward, whom Theo falls in love with. He’s not sure whether she loves him back, and that’s part of what little plot there is. Will Pippa and Theo ever get together? Theo's father, a failed actor, is significant for a while; he had left Theo and his mother in the lurch, but after the bombing he’s suddenly interested in Theo, and that’s how Theo lands in Las Vegas.
The painting plays a role throughout the book; it’s lost and found and lost again. The most painful part of the book is when Theo is stuck in a hotel room in Amsterdam without a passport to leave the country. What we have here is a “talking head”, what writers call a character alone on the stage, essentially talking to himself. If it hadn’t been like page 700, I would have quit reading. The word “whiner” wouldn’t be too severe a description of the boy Boris calls “Potter” because of his round glasses.
Then there’s the relationship between Boris and Theo. The reader should be wondering if Boris is “playing” Theo. He’s already crossed him once. This thread could have added some suspense to the plot, but Tartt has already foreshadowed where that relationship is at the end of the book. Theo tells us when he meets Boris in Las Vegas. There also isn’t much of a character arc for Theo. Although he’s trying to make amends for his shady dealings, he’s the same miserable introvert at the end of the book that he was in Vegas, and we don’t see a whole lot of hope for him.
January 30, 2014
Bloodstopper and Bearwalkers
In 1946 folklorist Richard Dorson crossed the Straits of Mackinac entering "an uncharted world of folk societies." He spent five months in the field interviewing Lake Superior fisherman, lumberjacks, miners, Ojibway Indians, and immigrants who worked in the copper and iron mines of the Upper Peninsula.
Dorson got the title from old-timers who said they had the power to stop blood from flowing from a wound or nosebleed, sometimes doing this over the phone. The Bearwalkers were evildoers similar to the Navajo Skinwalkers.
Some of the most fascinating passages deal with the Finlanders who emigrated from Lapland. They believed in noitas, or religious magicians, who cured the sick, charmed or cursed evildoers, and protected his people against invaders. In the old country, noitas were often burned for witchcraft. Dorson interviewed a man who claimed a noita hung by his neck for a week or two, and when he was cut down, twisted his neck about a bit and said, "This is good training for the neck muscles."
The Cornishmen, who worked in the copper mines, were almost as interesting as the Finns. These "Country Jacks" as they were called had many strange beliefs that have become local customs. A rooster crowing at midnight is the sign of death of a relative; a green Christmas makes a fat graveyard; if you wash your blankets in May, you drive your friends away; never return borrowed salt.
Dorson compares the old time lumberjacks of the Upper Peninsula to medieval knights in respect to standards of valor, honor, justice, and chivary. "The teamsters cherished their horses and the axeman their broadaxes as ever the armored knight his war steed and broadsword." Both spent a lot of time fighting for sheer fun. And, of course, they liked to drink. After six or seven months in the woods, they would blow four or five hundred dollars on rot gut whiskey.
The iron miners were another fascinating group. To kill a rat in the mine was worse than murder. Rats knew ahead when the ground was breaking; they could hear it. Also, the relationship between the miners and the owners provided grist for a curious folklorist. Cousin Jacks were followed by Finlanders, Swedes, Italians, Bohunks, Poles, and Irish. They were suspicious and envious of each other and couldn't understand each other, a situation the owners rather liked.
Dorson's chapter headings will give you a further idea of the ground he covered: Indians Stuffed and Live; Bearwalkers; Tricksters and Thunders; Canadians; Cousin Jacks; Finns; Bloodstoppers; Townsfolk; Lumberjacks; Miners; Lakesman; and Sagamen.
Dorson got the title from old-timers who said they had the power to stop blood from flowing from a wound or nosebleed, sometimes doing this over the phone. The Bearwalkers were evildoers similar to the Navajo Skinwalkers.
Some of the most fascinating passages deal with the Finlanders who emigrated from Lapland. They believed in noitas, or religious magicians, who cured the sick, charmed or cursed evildoers, and protected his people against invaders. In the old country, noitas were often burned for witchcraft. Dorson interviewed a man who claimed a noita hung by his neck for a week or two, and when he was cut down, twisted his neck about a bit and said, "This is good training for the neck muscles."
The Cornishmen, who worked in the copper mines, were almost as interesting as the Finns. These "Country Jacks" as they were called had many strange beliefs that have become local customs. A rooster crowing at midnight is the sign of death of a relative; a green Christmas makes a fat graveyard; if you wash your blankets in May, you drive your friends away; never return borrowed salt.
Dorson compares the old time lumberjacks of the Upper Peninsula to medieval knights in respect to standards of valor, honor, justice, and chivary. "The teamsters cherished their horses and the axeman their broadaxes as ever the armored knight his war steed and broadsword." Both spent a lot of time fighting for sheer fun. And, of course, they liked to drink. After six or seven months in the woods, they would blow four or five hundred dollars on rot gut whiskey.
The iron miners were another fascinating group. To kill a rat in the mine was worse than murder. Rats knew ahead when the ground was breaking; they could hear it. Also, the relationship between the miners and the owners provided grist for a curious folklorist. Cousin Jacks were followed by Finlanders, Swedes, Italians, Bohunks, Poles, and Irish. They were suspicious and envious of each other and couldn't understand each other, a situation the owners rather liked.
Dorson's chapter headings will give you a further idea of the ground he covered: Indians Stuffed and Live; Bearwalkers; Tricksters and Thunders; Canadians; Cousin Jacks; Finns; Bloodstoppers; Townsfolk; Lumberjacks; Miners; Lakesman; and Sagamen.
January 28, 2014
The Little Friend
Donna Tartt had to have been thinking of TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD while she was writing this book. There are too many similarities to ignore. The book is set in Alexandria, Mississippi, just a stone's throw from Maycomb, Alabama. Harriet Cleve Dufresnes, the lead character, could be Scout Finch six years later. The villain of the piece, Farish Ratliff, will remind you of Bob Ewell. Harriet even has a little boyfriend who worships the ground she walks on.
Harriet is a great character, feisty and brave, willing to take on a copperhead in order to get even with Danny Ratliff, whom she blames for the murder of her brother who'd been found hanging from a black-tupelo tree when she was a baby. Just as captivating are Harriet's great aunts, Edie, Addie, Libby, and Tat. These are truly original characters; no one has written senior citizens better since LADIES OF THE CLUB. Edie, Harriet's grandmother, is an older version of Harriet. When she looks Harriet in the eye, she sees herself looking back at her.
This is a finely textured book, with lots of atmosphere and
folklore that Tartt positions between action sequences. Tartt is great at foreshadowing. There's a scene at the beginning where Harriet learns how to hold her breath (like her hero Houdini) that will come in handy later on.
There's so much to like about this book I have to give it at least a four, but it's not a seamless novel. There's too much description, the kind that the author had to have put in later to give the book verisimilitude. Much of this is repetitive, lots of light playing off of the sides of buildings. I'm not the type to skip description, but I can understand why some readers might want to skim over some of this. The ending is also disappointing, leaving the reader dangling. Any mystery lover (as I am) is going to want to throw the book up against the wall when he finishes. What happens to Danny Ratliff is also completely unrealistic. You'd think at least one of the forty-some people Tartt thanks in her acknowledgments would have balked at some of this.
Harriet is a great character, feisty and brave, willing to take on a copperhead in order to get even with Danny Ratliff, whom she blames for the murder of her brother who'd been found hanging from a black-tupelo tree when she was a baby. Just as captivating are Harriet's great aunts, Edie, Addie, Libby, and Tat. These are truly original characters; no one has written senior citizens better since LADIES OF THE CLUB. Edie, Harriet's grandmother, is an older version of Harriet. When she looks Harriet in the eye, she sees herself looking back at her.
This is a finely textured book, with lots of atmosphere and
folklore that Tartt positions between action sequences. Tartt is great at foreshadowing. There's a scene at the beginning where Harriet learns how to hold her breath (like her hero Houdini) that will come in handy later on.
There's so much to like about this book I have to give it at least a four, but it's not a seamless novel. There's too much description, the kind that the author had to have put in later to give the book verisimilitude. Much of this is repetitive, lots of light playing off of the sides of buildings. I'm not the type to skip description, but I can understand why some readers might want to skim over some of this. The ending is also disappointing, leaving the reader dangling. Any mystery lover (as I am) is going to want to throw the book up against the wall when he finishes. What happens to Danny Ratliff is also completely unrealistic. You'd think at least one of the forty-some people Tartt thanks in her acknowledgments would have balked at some of this.
January 25, 2014
Clarence Darrow
Without a doubt the greatest influence on Clarence Darrow's career as "Attorney for the Damned" was his father, Amiris, a furniture store owner in Kinsman, Illinois. He was the town radical who had a hard time making ends meet, but somehow always found money for books, which he passed on to his precocious son.
Darrow began his career in Chicago working for the city and spent six years dispensing legal advice for the railroads, as Abraham Lincoln had done before him. He quit when his mentor, William C. Gowdy died, but said he had felt guilty working for a giant corporation long before that.
Darrow's career as a radical lawyer began when he represented coal miners who were bargaining for an eight hour day. Author Farrell gives us a gruesome picture of children under ten years old working sorting coal. The coal owners purposefully paid their men and boys less than a living wage and the garment industry took full advantage of it in that families needed to send the mother and daughters out to work also. Textile mills popped up around the coal mines. Eventually Darrow would move up the ladder of radical causes, representing Wild Bill Haywood who was charged in the murder of Governor Steunenberg, who had been a union foil, and he would later represent the McNamara brothers charged with bombing the LOS ANGELES TIMES.
John A. Farrell reveals Darrow's warts as well as his talents. He divorced his first wife and was a lifelong advocate of free love, although he married a second time. He carried on a long affair with reporter Mary Field Parton, even after she was married, and he tried to seduce her sister every time he saw her. The famous poet, Edgar Lee Masters, who was Darrow's law partner, viewed Darrow as somewhat of a phony, claiming Darrow chiseled him out of some fees.
Darrow was also tried twice for trying to bribe the McNamara jury. Farrell shows how Pinkertons were hired to infiltrate Darrow's defense team, so Darrow may have felt he was justified in using extra legal tactics, that is if he was guilty. Some of his friends thought he was.
Darrow also represented some questionable clients, namely Chicago gangsters and the rich such as the Leopolds and the Loebs, which astonished his fellow radicals. Darrow's excuse was always that he was a lawyer and that's what lawyers did.
Sometimes Darrow couldn't get his clients off so he tried to get the sentence reduced. This happened with Leopold and Loeb; Darrow argued that the state of Illinois had never put to death a murderer under the age of 18. He also defended Patrick Prendergast, the murderer of Chicago mayor Carter Harrison, employing an insanity plea.
Farrell doesn't do justice to Darrow's most famous case, The Scopes Monkey Trial held in Dayton, Tennessee. We do learn that the case was a show trial conceived by drugstore lawyers in Dayton, as a sort of booster ploy for the town. Darrow and William Jennings Bryan brushed the other lawyers aside. When the noted agnostic and the evangelical politician became the focus of the trial, matters got serious. Unfortunately the judge disallowed expert witnesses and the case for evolution never got a fair hearing.
Darrow often spent days making a closing statement. He must've been really good because it seems he usually did it to a packed house. He may be the greatest lawyer in American history.
Darrow began his career in Chicago working for the city and spent six years dispensing legal advice for the railroads, as Abraham Lincoln had done before him. He quit when his mentor, William C. Gowdy died, but said he had felt guilty working for a giant corporation long before that.
Darrow's career as a radical lawyer began when he represented coal miners who were bargaining for an eight hour day. Author Farrell gives us a gruesome picture of children under ten years old working sorting coal. The coal owners purposefully paid their men and boys less than a living wage and the garment industry took full advantage of it in that families needed to send the mother and daughters out to work also. Textile mills popped up around the coal mines. Eventually Darrow would move up the ladder of radical causes, representing Wild Bill Haywood who was charged in the murder of Governor Steunenberg, who had been a union foil, and he would later represent the McNamara brothers charged with bombing the LOS ANGELES TIMES.
John A. Farrell reveals Darrow's warts as well as his talents. He divorced his first wife and was a lifelong advocate of free love, although he married a second time. He carried on a long affair with reporter Mary Field Parton, even after she was married, and he tried to seduce her sister every time he saw her. The famous poet, Edgar Lee Masters, who was Darrow's law partner, viewed Darrow as somewhat of a phony, claiming Darrow chiseled him out of some fees.
Darrow was also tried twice for trying to bribe the McNamara jury. Farrell shows how Pinkertons were hired to infiltrate Darrow's defense team, so Darrow may have felt he was justified in using extra legal tactics, that is if he was guilty. Some of his friends thought he was.
Darrow also represented some questionable clients, namely Chicago gangsters and the rich such as the Leopolds and the Loebs, which astonished his fellow radicals. Darrow's excuse was always that he was a lawyer and that's what lawyers did.
Sometimes Darrow couldn't get his clients off so he tried to get the sentence reduced. This happened with Leopold and Loeb; Darrow argued that the state of Illinois had never put to death a murderer under the age of 18. He also defended Patrick Prendergast, the murderer of Chicago mayor Carter Harrison, employing an insanity plea.
Farrell doesn't do justice to Darrow's most famous case, The Scopes Monkey Trial held in Dayton, Tennessee. We do learn that the case was a show trial conceived by drugstore lawyers in Dayton, as a sort of booster ploy for the town. Darrow and William Jennings Bryan brushed the other lawyers aside. When the noted agnostic and the evangelical politician became the focus of the trial, matters got serious. Unfortunately the judge disallowed expert witnesses and the case for evolution never got a fair hearing.
Darrow often spent days making a closing statement. He must've been really good because it seems he usually did it to a packed house. He may be the greatest lawyer in American history.
January 22, 2014
How to Plan Your Novel
1. Diagram your novel on a horizontal line on a large sheet of paper (art paper, or butcher paper), entering plot point one, midpoint, plot point three, and climax. Draw vertical lines between Acts One, Two, and Three. When you come up with a definite scene, tag it and put it beneath the line in a sort of outline.
2. Generate scene cards (who’s in the scene?, situation and conflict, action, sensory detail, props etc. Hook, segue to the next scene). You make these so you can move them around when necessary and you can see the flow of your novel. Strive for forty cards, ten for Act one, twenty for Act II, and ten for Act III. Act one, from beginning to plot point one is exposition. You want to introduce your overall conflict and your main characters. When you get to plot point one, around p. 75, your main character starts working on his goal (ex. finding his kidnapped daughter). Act II is development; aim at midpoint where something significant will happen to send your character in another direction; your character is then propelled toward plot point two, where Act III, the resolution to your goal begins. Shortly thereafter your climax occurs, where your character either achieves his goal or is denied (Girl he loves chooses another man). Wrap it up in a hurry, not much more than a few pages. I like epilogues, but maybe that’s just me. You’ve been with these people for at least a week, and you want to know what happens to them in the future.
3. Non-scenes. Don’t worry if there isn’t much of a conflict for some of your scenes. Non-scenes are sometimes called incidents or happenings. An incident is a sort of abortive scene where a character attempts to reach a goal but meets no resistance or conflict. When a boy seeks to kiss a girl who wants to kiss him back, you have an incident. A happening just brings people together, no goal or conflict. Happenings and incidents add realism to your work, but don’t hold interest very long. If you structure your book according to scene and sequel, you can put your incidents and happenings in your sequels. Scenes sound like they’re happening in real time with lots of dialogue; sequels sound like narration, where the author is telling instead of showing. Something has happened at the end of a previous scene and your character is trying to solve the problem. He/she looks at the different possibilities and rejects all but one, then enters the next scene. He/she might be having a beer with a friend who helps him make his decision.
4. Setting. Should be like a character in your book. Tony Hillerman’s Navajo reservation; SHIPPING NEWS, set in Newfoundland; Huck Finn, the Mississippi River Valley; the Yukon in Jack London; the Red River Valley in SOLDIER’S GAP. Small town America is a good setting, although it’s been done to death.
Dave Schwinghammer's novel, SOLDIER'S GAP, is available on Amazon.com.
2. Generate scene cards (who’s in the scene?, situation and conflict, action, sensory detail, props etc. Hook, segue to the next scene). You make these so you can move them around when necessary and you can see the flow of your novel. Strive for forty cards, ten for Act one, twenty for Act II, and ten for Act III. Act one, from beginning to plot point one is exposition. You want to introduce your overall conflict and your main characters. When you get to plot point one, around p. 75, your main character starts working on his goal (ex. finding his kidnapped daughter). Act II is development; aim at midpoint where something significant will happen to send your character in another direction; your character is then propelled toward plot point two, where Act III, the resolution to your goal begins. Shortly thereafter your climax occurs, where your character either achieves his goal or is denied (Girl he loves chooses another man). Wrap it up in a hurry, not much more than a few pages. I like epilogues, but maybe that’s just me. You’ve been with these people for at least a week, and you want to know what happens to them in the future.
3. Non-scenes. Don’t worry if there isn’t much of a conflict for some of your scenes. Non-scenes are sometimes called incidents or happenings. An incident is a sort of abortive scene where a character attempts to reach a goal but meets no resistance or conflict. When a boy seeks to kiss a girl who wants to kiss him back, you have an incident. A happening just brings people together, no goal or conflict. Happenings and incidents add realism to your work, but don’t hold interest very long. If you structure your book according to scene and sequel, you can put your incidents and happenings in your sequels. Scenes sound like they’re happening in real time with lots of dialogue; sequels sound like narration, where the author is telling instead of showing. Something has happened at the end of a previous scene and your character is trying to solve the problem. He/she looks at the different possibilities and rejects all but one, then enters the next scene. He/she might be having a beer with a friend who helps him make his decision.
4. Setting. Should be like a character in your book. Tony Hillerman’s Navajo reservation; SHIPPING NEWS, set in Newfoundland; Huck Finn, the Mississippi River Valley; the Yukon in Jack London; the Red River Valley in SOLDIER’S GAP. Small town America is a good setting, although it’s been done to death.
Dave Schwinghammer's novel, SOLDIER'S GAP, is available on Amazon.com.
January 20, 2014
The Leopard
Harry Hole has got to be the most extreme homicide detective in suspense fiction. In the last episode he has his jaw broken; in this one he comes close to being killed twice, and a gun is not employed.
Harry is also an alcoholic and a drug abuser. At the beginning of THE LEOPARD he has resigned from his job and gone to Hong Kong where he acquires an opium addiction and is heavily in debt to gangsters over gambling losses. This is where his new partner, Kaja Solness, finds him. She tells him the department is willing to pay off his gambling debt if he will return to Norway and work on what looks like a new serial killer investigation. Harry is the only detective with experience working on that sort of crime as he solved the Snowman case and a previous string of murders in Australia.
The murder weapon in this case is extremely original. It's a torture device acquired in the Congo. It looks like a Christmas ornament with circular ridges; it is forced into the victim's mouth where it irritates the sides of his/her cheeks. A string protrudes from the victim's mouth. Eventually the first two victims pulled the string, causing needles to puncture the sides of their mouths and palettes, and bled out. The genius is that the murderer could be elsewhere when the victim actually died.
Subplots involve Harry's dad who is dying and Mikael Bellman the head of Kripos, an FBI-like homicide unit, who persuades the higher ups that the national investigative unit should handle all murder cases. Bellman is good-looking and charming but lacks Harry's imagination. Nesbo throws another hurdle in Harry's path when he includes a Bellman spy among Harry's confidants.
In THE SNOWMAN it was easy to pick out the killer. Nesbo must've listened to his critics because this time he manages to hide him/her pretty well, although conforming to the mystery convention where you show the murderer briefly so the reader can play along. But then he pulls a Jeffery Deaver twist (not a compliment) that made me want to hurl the book against the wall. But I soldiered on and Harry's relentless pursuit of the killer was still enough of a selling point to make me want to know what happens to this poor soul in the next episode.
Nesbo's main appeal is his ability to put Harry in such terrible circumstances that as a reader you think surely he's going to get the green Wienie this time, but he always manages to think his way out of it. Usually, with a series like this you know the author isn't going to kill off his bread and butter character, but with Nesbo you're not quite sure.
Harry is also an alcoholic and a drug abuser. At the beginning of THE LEOPARD he has resigned from his job and gone to Hong Kong where he acquires an opium addiction and is heavily in debt to gangsters over gambling losses. This is where his new partner, Kaja Solness, finds him. She tells him the department is willing to pay off his gambling debt if he will return to Norway and work on what looks like a new serial killer investigation. Harry is the only detective with experience working on that sort of crime as he solved the Snowman case and a previous string of murders in Australia.
The murder weapon in this case is extremely original. It's a torture device acquired in the Congo. It looks like a Christmas ornament with circular ridges; it is forced into the victim's mouth where it irritates the sides of his/her cheeks. A string protrudes from the victim's mouth. Eventually the first two victims pulled the string, causing needles to puncture the sides of their mouths and palettes, and bled out. The genius is that the murderer could be elsewhere when the victim actually died.
Subplots involve Harry's dad who is dying and Mikael Bellman the head of Kripos, an FBI-like homicide unit, who persuades the higher ups that the national investigative unit should handle all murder cases. Bellman is good-looking and charming but lacks Harry's imagination. Nesbo throws another hurdle in Harry's path when he includes a Bellman spy among Harry's confidants.
In THE SNOWMAN it was easy to pick out the killer. Nesbo must've listened to his critics because this time he manages to hide him/her pretty well, although conforming to the mystery convention where you show the murderer briefly so the reader can play along. But then he pulls a Jeffery Deaver twist (not a compliment) that made me want to hurl the book against the wall. But I soldiered on and Harry's relentless pursuit of the killer was still enough of a selling point to make me want to know what happens to this poor soul in the next episode.
Nesbo's main appeal is his ability to put Harry in such terrible circumstances that as a reader you think surely he's going to get the green Wienie this time, but he always manages to think his way out of it. Usually, with a series like this you know the author isn't going to kill off his bread and butter character, but with Nesbo you're not quite sure.
