Gary Inbinder's Blog, page 4
April 30, 2017
Goodreads Mystery & Thriller Week:May 1-7. The Special Question
Goodreads has declared May 1 – 7 “Mystery and Thriller Week.” Since my most recent writings come within that broad category, I approve. However, I did have some difficulty answering GR’s “special” Mystery and Thriller Week Ask the Author question:
“What mystery in your own life could be a plot for a book?” My immediate response: Define mystery. Nevertheless, to get into the spirit of things I attempted an answer. But on reflection, I deleted my answer and skipped the question. Here’s what I wrote, with an explanation of why I dumped it.
“Many years ago, I struck up a casual acquaintance with a female co-worker. She was several years older than me, attractive and friendly. One day we were having lunch together in the cafeteria, making work related small talk, when she started telling me a story about her step-father. At least, I think it was her step-father. My memory’s hazy on that particular; it was a long time ago. Anyway, as I recall, she claimed the old man owed her money from an inheritance, and she seemed to be soliciting my advice or help in getting what she believed she was owed. This talk made me uncomfortable. After all, we were just office pals. Why confide in me and seek my aid in something that personal? So, I cut her off and said, “I think you need a good lawyer.” She appeared disappointed, and she stopped talking. Not long after, she quit her job. I never saw nor heard from her again.
A year or so later, I read about a murder case involving my former co-worker. Apparently, she found a guy who was willing to kill the old man for a share in the money. People in the office who knew her couldn’t believe it. At least, that’s what we said. But I couldn’t forget that conversation in the cafeteria. She never explicitly suggested anything criminal to me, or even improper, but I sensed something rotten. At the time, I was working as a credit fraud investigator. Maybe I just didn’t like casual acquaintances airing their dirty laundry and pumping me for free advice. Anyway, her approach didn’t pass my smell test. In retrospect, I can only assume she was feeling me out, a preliminary audition for the role of her partner in crime. Thankfully, I didn’t get past round one. As for the poor guy who did, I’m reminded of the famous line from James M. Cain’s “Double Indemnity”: “Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money - and a woman - and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman.”” No indeed; he got the Big Sleep, courtesy of the state.”
The above might make for a good noir story, but I don’t write noir. I write historical police procedurals/mysteries. I also like hard-boiled detective fiction. I appreciate noir, but for the most part, it’s not my thing.
Otto Penzler wrote an excellent post for The Huffington blog (Aug. 10, 2010) in which he made a distinction between the hard-boiled detective genre and its cousin, noir fiction:
“…noir is about losers. The characters in these existential, nihilistic tales are doomed. They may not die, but they probably should, as the life that awaits them is certain to be so ugly, so lost and lonely, that they’d be better off just curling up and getting it over with. And, let’s face it, they deserve it.
Pretty much everyone in a noir story (or film) is driven by greed, lust, jealousy or alienation, a path that inevitably sucks them into a downward spiral from which they cannot escape. They couldn’t find the exit from their personal highway to hell if flashing neon lights pointed to a town named Hope. It is their own lack of morality that blindly drives them to ruin.”
What we think of as noir might have developed from hard-boiled detective fiction, but there’s a distinct difference. The detective isn’t a total loser—he won’t commit a serious crime for money, a woman, or anything else. He’s not totally motivated by greed, lust, jealousy or alienation. He’s occasionally tempted to crime, but he won’t cross that line. Deep down, he has a moral core. Dashiell Hammett’s Sam Spade is a prime example. In “The Maltese Falcon” Spade is tempted by a femme fatale (lust) and the elusive gold and gem encrusted bird (greed). But, when push comes to shove, he won’t play the sap for the femme fatale. She murdered his partner, and she’s taking the fall. As for the falcon, it’s an illusion—and a MacGuffin, to boot.*
Modern noir may have grown out of hard-boiled detective fiction, but it doesn’t begin sometime around 1930. Stories about human weaknesses, or sin, and its consequences are present in all ages and cultures; they’re archetypal stories. In Judeo-Christian culture Adam, Eve and the serpent are noir characters, God is the law and his angels with flaming swords are the cops.
So, there it is. I didn’t answer GR’s Mystery Week Special Question about some “mystery” in my life that could have formed the basis for a plot in a book, because the first thing that came to mind wasn’t a “mystery.” Instead, it was an incident from my distant past that might have gone wrong if I’d been naturally inclined to “play the sap.” It might also explain why I admire some noir fiction, but I don’t choose to write it.
*MacGuffin: Alfred Hitchcock’s term for a plot device that propels the action, the nature of which is not essential to the storyline. The MacGuffin is something, for example a gold, gem encrusted statue, the characters will lie, cheat, steal, betray, seduce or kill for.
“What mystery in your own life could be a plot for a book?” My immediate response: Define mystery. Nevertheless, to get into the spirit of things I attempted an answer. But on reflection, I deleted my answer and skipped the question. Here’s what I wrote, with an explanation of why I dumped it.
“Many years ago, I struck up a casual acquaintance with a female co-worker. She was several years older than me, attractive and friendly. One day we were having lunch together in the cafeteria, making work related small talk, when she started telling me a story about her step-father. At least, I think it was her step-father. My memory’s hazy on that particular; it was a long time ago. Anyway, as I recall, she claimed the old man owed her money from an inheritance, and she seemed to be soliciting my advice or help in getting what she believed she was owed. This talk made me uncomfortable. After all, we were just office pals. Why confide in me and seek my aid in something that personal? So, I cut her off and said, “I think you need a good lawyer.” She appeared disappointed, and she stopped talking. Not long after, she quit her job. I never saw nor heard from her again.
A year or so later, I read about a murder case involving my former co-worker. Apparently, she found a guy who was willing to kill the old man for a share in the money. People in the office who knew her couldn’t believe it. At least, that’s what we said. But I couldn’t forget that conversation in the cafeteria. She never explicitly suggested anything criminal to me, or even improper, but I sensed something rotten. At the time, I was working as a credit fraud investigator. Maybe I just didn’t like casual acquaintances airing their dirty laundry and pumping me for free advice. Anyway, her approach didn’t pass my smell test. In retrospect, I can only assume she was feeling me out, a preliminary audition for the role of her partner in crime. Thankfully, I didn’t get past round one. As for the poor guy who did, I’m reminded of the famous line from James M. Cain’s “Double Indemnity”: “Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money - and a woman - and I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman.”” No indeed; he got the Big Sleep, courtesy of the state.”
The above might make for a good noir story, but I don’t write noir. I write historical police procedurals/mysteries. I also like hard-boiled detective fiction. I appreciate noir, but for the most part, it’s not my thing.
Otto Penzler wrote an excellent post for The Huffington blog (Aug. 10, 2010) in which he made a distinction between the hard-boiled detective genre and its cousin, noir fiction:
“…noir is about losers. The characters in these existential, nihilistic tales are doomed. They may not die, but they probably should, as the life that awaits them is certain to be so ugly, so lost and lonely, that they’d be better off just curling up and getting it over with. And, let’s face it, they deserve it.
Pretty much everyone in a noir story (or film) is driven by greed, lust, jealousy or alienation, a path that inevitably sucks them into a downward spiral from which they cannot escape. They couldn’t find the exit from their personal highway to hell if flashing neon lights pointed to a town named Hope. It is their own lack of morality that blindly drives them to ruin.”
What we think of as noir might have developed from hard-boiled detective fiction, but there’s a distinct difference. The detective isn’t a total loser—he won’t commit a serious crime for money, a woman, or anything else. He’s not totally motivated by greed, lust, jealousy or alienation. He’s occasionally tempted to crime, but he won’t cross that line. Deep down, he has a moral core. Dashiell Hammett’s Sam Spade is a prime example. In “The Maltese Falcon” Spade is tempted by a femme fatale (lust) and the elusive gold and gem encrusted bird (greed). But, when push comes to shove, he won’t play the sap for the femme fatale. She murdered his partner, and she’s taking the fall. As for the falcon, it’s an illusion—and a MacGuffin, to boot.*
Modern noir may have grown out of hard-boiled detective fiction, but it doesn’t begin sometime around 1930. Stories about human weaknesses, or sin, and its consequences are present in all ages and cultures; they’re archetypal stories. In Judeo-Christian culture Adam, Eve and the serpent are noir characters, God is the law and his angels with flaming swords are the cops.
So, there it is. I didn’t answer GR’s Mystery Week Special Question about some “mystery” in my life that could have formed the basis for a plot in a book, because the first thing that came to mind wasn’t a “mystery.” Instead, it was an incident from my distant past that might have gone wrong if I’d been naturally inclined to “play the sap.” It might also explain why I admire some noir fiction, but I don’t choose to write it.
*MacGuffin: Alfred Hitchcock’s term for a plot device that propels the action, the nature of which is not essential to the storyline. The MacGuffin is something, for example a gold, gem encrusted statue, the characters will lie, cheat, steal, betray, seduce or kill for.
March 2, 2017
Chasing The Great White Whale
A while ago, I reviewed Hermann Melville’s “Moby Dick” on GR. It’s a great novel and well worth reading, but it had the same effect on Melville’s career that the great white whale had on Ahab and the Pequod.
Melville had early success as a writer, drawing on his experiences at sea for popular adventures like “Typee” and “Omoo”. With success came money, an advantageous marriage, and acquaintance with the leading New England literati of his day. Good fortune spurred the young writer’s ambition. He would write a book that would make a big splash in the literary sea. Drawing on folklore, his own experiences, and a real event, the ramming and sinking of the whaler Essex by a great sperm whale, the ambitious young writer produced what he hoped and believed would be The Great American Novel. But things did not turn out as he hoped. The following is from my review:
“Published in 1851, the original printing of 3,000 did not sell in Melville's lifetime (He died in 1891).
Prior to writing Moby Dick, Melville was the successful author of South Seas adventures (Typee and Omoo) based on his experiences in the merchant marine and whaling. That's what his publisher and the public wanted. Instead, Melville gave them the story of Captain Ahab's vengeful pursuit of the Great White Whale that ends in death and destruction, with only one among the crew (Ishmael) left to tell the cautionary tale. That might have worked in a book half the length. But I believe Melville wanted much more than another best-seller; he wanted to write the "Great American Novel," a book for the ages, something to rival Homer, Shakespeare, and the King James Bible.
Melville filled the novel with powerful imagery; gorgeous, poetic, quasi-biblical prose; allegories, digressions, and obscure metaphysical allusions. In the process, Melville morphed into Ahab, and the novel became his "White Whale." As a result, he produced a masterpiece that few wanted to read.
He paid the price. His publisher dropped him; other publishers ran from his manuscripts as if they carried the plague; his wife's family urged her to leave him; he drank; his eldest son killed himself. Melville died a lonely, forgotten old man living on a civil servant's pension. Another cautionary tale. To quote Clint Eastwood aka Dirty Harry: "A man's got to know his limitations."
Moby Dick is indeed a cautionary tale, and so is the author’s biography. I think about both every time I start work on a new book. I also think of another novel, Zola’s “The Masterpiece,” the story of a talented artist whose vision of a “masterpiece” drives him to destruction. Anyone who works in the creative arts must deal with a certain amount of insecurity, a lack of confidence that he or she has the ability to realize a great artistic vision. For some, that insecurity can become mentally, emotionally and physically debilitating.
Here’s some good advice from the late, great Spanish tenor Alfredo Kraus:
''Let me tell you,'' he said, ''I know singers who are in terror before they perform, because their technique is not secure, they are singing beyond themselves, they do not know what will happen, any little thing can throw them into a disaster. If I am well, I have no problem at all to sing. I have a natural tension because I know I am going before the public, but this is very easy to control. Why should I change and give myself trouble?''
Singing beyond oneself. The same goes for writers. Don’t write beyond yourself. If you’re secure in your technique and have a clear vision of what you want to accomplish, go ahead with confidence. With persistence and effort, you can produce something good, maybe even great if the stars align correctly. But beware the Great White Whale; it might sink your ship, and you with it.
Melville had early success as a writer, drawing on his experiences at sea for popular adventures like “Typee” and “Omoo”. With success came money, an advantageous marriage, and acquaintance with the leading New England literati of his day. Good fortune spurred the young writer’s ambition. He would write a book that would make a big splash in the literary sea. Drawing on folklore, his own experiences, and a real event, the ramming and sinking of the whaler Essex by a great sperm whale, the ambitious young writer produced what he hoped and believed would be The Great American Novel. But things did not turn out as he hoped. The following is from my review:
“Published in 1851, the original printing of 3,000 did not sell in Melville's lifetime (He died in 1891).
Prior to writing Moby Dick, Melville was the successful author of South Seas adventures (Typee and Omoo) based on his experiences in the merchant marine and whaling. That's what his publisher and the public wanted. Instead, Melville gave them the story of Captain Ahab's vengeful pursuit of the Great White Whale that ends in death and destruction, with only one among the crew (Ishmael) left to tell the cautionary tale. That might have worked in a book half the length. But I believe Melville wanted much more than another best-seller; he wanted to write the "Great American Novel," a book for the ages, something to rival Homer, Shakespeare, and the King James Bible.
Melville filled the novel with powerful imagery; gorgeous, poetic, quasi-biblical prose; allegories, digressions, and obscure metaphysical allusions. In the process, Melville morphed into Ahab, and the novel became his "White Whale." As a result, he produced a masterpiece that few wanted to read.
He paid the price. His publisher dropped him; other publishers ran from his manuscripts as if they carried the plague; his wife's family urged her to leave him; he drank; his eldest son killed himself. Melville died a lonely, forgotten old man living on a civil servant's pension. Another cautionary tale. To quote Clint Eastwood aka Dirty Harry: "A man's got to know his limitations."
Moby Dick is indeed a cautionary tale, and so is the author’s biography. I think about both every time I start work on a new book. I also think of another novel, Zola’s “The Masterpiece,” the story of a talented artist whose vision of a “masterpiece” drives him to destruction. Anyone who works in the creative arts must deal with a certain amount of insecurity, a lack of confidence that he or she has the ability to realize a great artistic vision. For some, that insecurity can become mentally, emotionally and physically debilitating.
Here’s some good advice from the late, great Spanish tenor Alfredo Kraus:
''Let me tell you,'' he said, ''I know singers who are in terror before they perform, because their technique is not secure, they are singing beyond themselves, they do not know what will happen, any little thing can throw them into a disaster. If I am well, I have no problem at all to sing. I have a natural tension because I know I am going before the public, but this is very easy to control. Why should I change and give myself trouble?''
Singing beyond oneself. The same goes for writers. Don’t write beyond yourself. If you’re secure in your technique and have a clear vision of what you want to accomplish, go ahead with confidence. With persistence and effort, you can produce something good, maybe even great if the stars align correctly. But beware the Great White Whale; it might sink your ship, and you with it.
January 9, 2017
Too Many, or Too Few, Words?
The following dialogue is from the film “Amadeus”:
MOZART: So then you like it? You really like it, Your Majesty?
EMPEROR: Of course I do. It's very good. Of course now and then - just now and then - it gets a touch elaborate.
MOZART: What do you mean, Sire?
EMPEROR: Well, I mean occasionally it seems to have, how shall one say? [he stops in difficulty; turning to Orsini-Rosenberg] How shall one say, Director?
ORSINI-ROSENBERG: Too many notes, Your Majesty?
EMPEROR: Exactly. Very well put. Too many notes.
MOZART: I don't understand. There are just as many notes, Majesty, as are required. Neither more nor less.
EMPEROR: My dear fellow, there are in fact only so many notes the ear can hear in the course of an evening. I think I'm right in saying that, aren't I, Court Composer?
SALIERI: Yes! yes! er, on the whole, yes, Majesty.
MOZART: But this is absurd!
EMPEROR: My dear, young man, don't take it too hard. Your work is ingenious. It's quality work. And there are simply too many notes, that's all. Cut a few and it will be perfect.
MOZART: Which few did you have in mind, Majesty?
EMPEROR: Well. There it is.
A funny scene, implying that the Emperor of Austria was a booby lacking the fine taste and judgment to appreciate one of the greatest composers of all time. But was he such a fool? How many of us enjoy sitting through more than three hours of grand opera? What about great plays and novels, for example the uncut “Hamlet”, Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” or Melville’s “Moby Dick”? Would some judicious editing of any number of lengthy masterpieces be a crime tantamount to sacrilege? Or would these works benefit from careful editing? I can speak only for myself. While I appreciate greatness on the large scale, less can sometimes be more; keep it simple, short and sweet can be an appropriate guideline, especially in certain genres.
All writers must deal with word count, but word count in and of itself has nothing to do with writing; it’s a marketplace criteria. If publishers, editors and agents think the reading public wants novels of a certain length, most of us had better conform to their requirements if we want to be published.
On the other hand, those among us fortunate enough to have a large readership can afford to bend the rules.
As a writer and reader I like my crime novels relatively short, about two-hundred to three-hundred printed pages, or from approximately 67,000-85,000 words. Many great writers in the genre, including Hammett, Chandler, Simenon, Stout, Westlake, et. al. wrote taut, fast-paced fiction of that length or less. That doesn’t mean great crime fiction can’t run longer. It’s a matter of taste and what the market demands. In other words, readers shouldn’t be ashamed to say, “I really like this book, but there are simply too many words. Cut a few and it will be perfect.”
MOZART: So then you like it? You really like it, Your Majesty?
EMPEROR: Of course I do. It's very good. Of course now and then - just now and then - it gets a touch elaborate.
MOZART: What do you mean, Sire?
EMPEROR: Well, I mean occasionally it seems to have, how shall one say? [he stops in difficulty; turning to Orsini-Rosenberg] How shall one say, Director?
ORSINI-ROSENBERG: Too many notes, Your Majesty?
EMPEROR: Exactly. Very well put. Too many notes.
MOZART: I don't understand. There are just as many notes, Majesty, as are required. Neither more nor less.
EMPEROR: My dear fellow, there are in fact only so many notes the ear can hear in the course of an evening. I think I'm right in saying that, aren't I, Court Composer?
SALIERI: Yes! yes! er, on the whole, yes, Majesty.
MOZART: But this is absurd!
EMPEROR: My dear, young man, don't take it too hard. Your work is ingenious. It's quality work. And there are simply too many notes, that's all. Cut a few and it will be perfect.
MOZART: Which few did you have in mind, Majesty?
EMPEROR: Well. There it is.
A funny scene, implying that the Emperor of Austria was a booby lacking the fine taste and judgment to appreciate one of the greatest composers of all time. But was he such a fool? How many of us enjoy sitting through more than three hours of grand opera? What about great plays and novels, for example the uncut “Hamlet”, Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” or Melville’s “Moby Dick”? Would some judicious editing of any number of lengthy masterpieces be a crime tantamount to sacrilege? Or would these works benefit from careful editing? I can speak only for myself. While I appreciate greatness on the large scale, less can sometimes be more; keep it simple, short and sweet can be an appropriate guideline, especially in certain genres.
All writers must deal with word count, but word count in and of itself has nothing to do with writing; it’s a marketplace criteria. If publishers, editors and agents think the reading public wants novels of a certain length, most of us had better conform to their requirements if we want to be published.
On the other hand, those among us fortunate enough to have a large readership can afford to bend the rules.
As a writer and reader I like my crime novels relatively short, about two-hundred to three-hundred printed pages, or from approximately 67,000-85,000 words. Many great writers in the genre, including Hammett, Chandler, Simenon, Stout, Westlake, et. al. wrote taut, fast-paced fiction of that length or less. That doesn’t mean great crime fiction can’t run longer. It’s a matter of taste and what the market demands. In other words, readers shouldn’t be ashamed to say, “I really like this book, but there are simply too many words. Cut a few and it will be perfect.”
December 26, 2016
Best Historical Mystery of 2016
The Unset Alarm Clock book blog chose The Hanged Man as the best of the genre for 2016! An exceptionally well-written and perceptive review accompanies the announcement. My thanks and compliments to the blogger!
"Best Historical Mystery. The Hanged Man by Gary Inbinder. The second in this series set in fin-de-seicle Paris is another example of an author mixing together all the elements for an excellent historical mystery: an intelligent protagonist, interesting secondary characters, a worthy villain and an atmospheric setting."
https://unsetalarmclock.wordpress.com...
P.S. A third Inspector Lefebvre mystery is in the works. More about that in 2017.
Best wishes to all my friends and followers for a Happy New Year!
"Best Historical Mystery. The Hanged Man by Gary Inbinder. The second in this series set in fin-de-seicle Paris is another example of an author mixing together all the elements for an excellent historical mystery: an intelligent protagonist, interesting secondary characters, a worthy villain and an atmospheric setting."
https://unsetalarmclock.wordpress.com...
P.S. A third Inspector Lefebvre mystery is in the works. More about that in 2017.
Best wishes to all my friends and followers for a Happy New Year!
October 31, 2016
The Girl in the Title
The fad for putting "girl" in book titles is still going strong. Apparently this phenomenon will continue as long as writers, editors and agents think placing a juvenile feminine gender noun in a title will boost sales. This fad may even outlast the zombie mash-up craze. Perhaps the fads could be combined in a title? For example:
"The Dragon Tattooed Swedish Gone Girl On The Zombie Train"
Or maybe some "clever" person could write a mash-up of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina and title it: "The Russian Girl Under the Train"
Here's a link to a posting of interest on the subject, from The Millions:
http://www.themillions.com/2016/10/go...
"The Dragon Tattooed Swedish Gone Girl On The Zombie Train"
Or maybe some "clever" person could write a mash-up of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina and title it: "The Russian Girl Under the Train"
Here's a link to a posting of interest on the subject, from The Millions:
http://www.themillions.com/2016/10/go...
October 17, 2016
The Hanged Man: One of Strand Magazine's Best of 2016!
The Strand Magazine has chosen The Hanged Man as one of the top crime novels of 2016. My second Inspector Lefebvre mystery's in good company. You can see the entire list posted on The Rap Sheet blog:
http://therapsheet.blogspot.com/2016/...
http://therapsheet.blogspot.com/2016/...
September 18, 2016
More Praise for The Hanged Man
"Deftly crafted and consistently compelling from beginning to end..." Midwest Book Review
"The setting is intriguing and the plot especially so. It has tension, well-done action scenes and a likeable main character."
Bookgasm
"The Hanged Man is an excellent follow up to The Devil in Montmartre, a book that not only delivers the details fans of historical mysteries crave, but also serves up a solid procedural narrative that does not cheat the clues. "
CriminalElement
"The setting is intriguing and the plot especially so. It has tension, well-done action scenes and a likeable main character."
Bookgasm
"The Hanged Man is an excellent follow up to The Devil in Montmartre, a book that not only delivers the details fans of historical mysteries crave, but also serves up a solid procedural narrative that does not cheat the clues. "
CriminalElement
August 15, 2016
Great Review of The Hanged Man in The WSJ
Tom Nolan wrote an outstanding review of The Hanged Man for The Wall Street Journal.
“A wonderfully atmospheric period policiere.” (Wall Street Journal)
http://www.wsj.com/articles/coming-ou...
“A wonderfully atmospheric period policiere.” (Wall Street Journal)
http://www.wsj.com/articles/coming-ou...
August 5, 2016
Signed Copies of The Hanged Man at The Mysterious Bookshop
The Mysterious Bookshop in New York City is the place to go for signed copies of The Hanged Man: A Mystery in Fin de Siecle Paris. I'm thrilled to have signed copies of my second novel in the Inspector Lefebvre series featured at one of New York's finest specialty bookstores!
http://www.mysteriousbookshop.com/pro...
http://www.mysteriousbookshop.com/pro...
June 1, 2016
Kirkus Reviews: The Hanged Man
"A case every bit as baffling as the hero's debut. Here's hoping for another entry in this atmospheric series."
A very nice review of my second Inspector Lefebvre Mystery, The Hanged Man, from Kirkus Reviews!
https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-re...
A very nice review of my second Inspector Lefebvre Mystery, The Hanged Man, from Kirkus Reviews!
https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-re...
