H.B. Berlow's Blog, page 9

THE TRUE MEANING OF ‘HOME’

Nothing stays the same. The only thing constant is change. We want things to remain as they are, especially if they are good and worthwhile. But Seasons pass and Age comes upon us, creeping slowly while we avoid its recognition, only to wake up to a new reality as though it happened overnight.

Today, my wife and I closed on the sale of our house, the place that was our home for 25 years. Over 40% of my life was spent in this Victorian home built in 1903. I came to relish the decorous nature of such a dwelling. I learned to be a homeowner, sufficiently capable of maintaining the place to a degree of comfort and functionality.

There are photos of events, gatherings, dinners, the various Christmas trees my wife decorated all over the house throughout the years. There was outdoor space throughout the backyard. We shopped for antiques to enhance the atmosphere, yet kept up with the modern technology as best we could.

Today, 25 years of actual living become a memory. There is no more residing in THAT house. We’ve moved to a new one and hope to have 25 years here. But there is no need for tears because, as we know, nothing stays the same.

Movement is the key to life. Physical, mental, intellectual, emotional. Certainly, there is a need to recline, to rest, to recompose. But there is also a need to move forward because stagnation can only lead to decay. While I appreciated the time spent in that abode, I know it is time to move on.

I suppose the only real home is anywhere I live with my wife. When I met her in Boston 28 years ago and she told me right out she was moving back to Wichita, there could be no uncertainty in my declaration of feelings for her. Letting her go was tantamount to placing me in a mental institution. I knew then where my home was.

It is still there.

MORE THAN JUST A BOOK RELEASE

I remember with clarity the genesis of this work. It was April 2019. My wife was away for the weekend with her family. I sat in a now-defunct hot tub with a martini on a Friday night after a long week. There was a conscious effort to develop a new character, a new series, after completing the final volume of the Ark City Confidential Chronicles, my historical crime series that took place in a small Kansas town over a twenty-year period.

While I had become attached to the main character, Baron Witherspoon, and had come to understand his journey, I never felt as close to him as I would have preferred. It was my desire to infuse the next book with something closer to who I was, while staying within the parameters of historical crime fiction, Wichita, circa mid-1940’s.

This is where Harold Bergman was born, at least as a character. He was given a name similar to mine, a date of birth that differed only by the year, and a religion that I had come to, shall we say, re-embrace as I got older. This was to be more than stories of solving crimes. This was to be a search for one’s self while searching for others. There would be a path of self-discovery in between the procedural and legal aspects of police investigation and the enlightenment found solely through a religious following.

These were the aspects of humanity that Harold and I would share. By placing this spiritual journey within the confines of hard-boiled crime fiction with certain noir elements, my hope was to draw readers in for the story and leave them with something more to consider. Perhaps Harold Bergman would be someone that would be interesting to them.

So, now after over four years, Harold’s first story, “The Day of Calamity”, becomes available on Amazon. I hope you will join me on this new adventure.

Oh, and Sir PounceAlot and Lady Mittens appreciate you as well.

“THE DAY OF CALAMITY” BOOK TRAILER – A WICHITA TRAVELOGUE

I’ve enjoyed creating book trailers for my previous four books. Typically, like this first one for “Ark City Confidential”, I would write a script, find photos from my personal collection (or take necessary photos), and then find some outstanding royalty-free music, often by the incomparable Kevin McLeod.

This time, for “The Day of Calamity” (what is to be Volume 1 of The Wichita Chronicles), I thought it might be more entertaining to do a kind of travelogue of Wichita, identifying some of the locations found in the book. In previous blog and other social media posts, I’ve alluded to some of these locations. Now, they are all together in one compilation.

The trailer is available here on YouTube. The book itself will have its worldwide release on November 29, 2023 on Amazon. So, right after you’ve enjoyed your Thanksgiving festivities, consider the work of a writer from Wichita, KS as a gift or stocking stuffer.

Enjoy!

“The Day of Calamity” – Teaser Trailer

The teaser trailer for “The Day of Calamity” can be found here.

There will be a travelogue-type trailer released this time next week. Locations around Wichita, KS will be shown and discussed.

The worldwide release date is 11-29-23.

***

Private detective Harold Bergman stood as a testament to his former life as a Wichita Kansas policeman. Having endured the brutalities of World War II, he carries a slight but noticeable limp, a constant reminder of the battles fought on distant shores. As a Jew, his identity is woven into the very fabric of his being, but he cannot fulfill his father’s wishes that he become a rabbi, and instead faces a world where the laws of God and the laws of man don’t make sense, taking it upon himself to find the Truth and perhaps himself.

Harold finds himself entangled in the lives of a spoiled daughter, and the wayward husband of a devout colored woman. Their cases take Harold on a perilous journey into the depths of a dark underworld, where shadows dance with malicious intent and faith emerges as his sole weapon. Failure to wield it will usher in a day of calamity.

COVER REVEAL

I remember actually going to book stores. Borders when it competed against Barnes & Noble. Used book stores. Warehouse type stores to buy books by the pound. The thing you found most often was a display, usually toward the entrance. New Releases. Chosen by Our Staff. Some kind of holiday or theme. And what struck you were the covers. Photos. Drawings. Iconic designs.

Before you pick up a book, flip it around to the back and read the synopsis and author bio, that book cover grabs you. Well, that’s what is supposed to happen. It is intended to be a portal to draw you inside. Maybe it gives you the slightest pause but, in the end, you can’t help step into a whole new world and, hopefully, be dazzled, amazed, impressed.

For my soon-to-be-released novel through The Wild Rose Press, I present the cover for “The Day of Calamity, The Wichita Chronicles, Volume 1” by designer Tina Lynn Stout.

The book is available for pre-order on Amazon. This is a significant work for me on a personal level and I welcome any discussion on it. I look forward to you joining me on an exciting and timely new adventure,

**

Private detective Harold Bergman stood as a testament to his former life as a Wichita Kansas policeman. Having endured the brutalities of World War II, he carries a slight but noticeable limp, a constant reminder of the battles fought on distant shores. As a Jew, his identity is woven into the very fabric of his being, but he cannot fulfill his father’s wishes that he become a rabbi, and instead faces a world where the laws of God and the laws of man don’t make sense, taking it upon himself to find the Truth and perhaps himself. Harold finds himself entangled in the lives of a spoiled daughter, and the wayward husband of a devout colored woman. Their cases take Harold on a perilous journey into the depths of a dark underworld, where shadows dance with malicious intent and faith emerges as his sole weapon. Failure to wield it will usher in a day of calamity.

COVER REVEAL (FORTHCOMING)

What is the release of a new book (a new series no less!) without a cover reveal.

Well, 1 week from today, right here on this blog (and other social media), I will be sharing the exquisite book cover for The Day of Calamity, Volume 1 of The Wichita Chronicles.

On November 15, 2023, a special book trailer will be posted to YouTube, followed by a mini version on November 22, 2023.

I invite you to join me on this exciting new adventure.

***

Private detective Harold Bergman stood as a testament to his former life as a Wichita Kansas policeman. Having endured the brutalities of World War II, he carries a slight but noticeable limp, a constant reminder of the battles fought on distant shores. As a Jew, his identity is woven into the very fabric of his being, but he cannot fulfill his father’s wishes that he become a rabbi, and instead faces a world where the laws of God and the laws of man don’t make sense, taking it upon himself to find the Truth and perhaps himself.

Harold finds himself entangled in the lives of a spoiled daughter, and the wayward husband of a devout colored woman. Their cases take Harold on a perilous journey into the depths of a dark underworld, where shadows dance with malicious intent and faith emerges as his sole weapon. Failure to wield it will usher in a day of calamity.

***

“The Day of Calamity” , The Wichita Chronicles Volume 1 will be released on November 29, 2023.

SO MUCH TO DO, SO LITTLE TIME

Willy Wonka:
So much time and so little to do. Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it .

There is a Yiddish expression that means “being hopelessly lost and unsure where to turn next.” The colorful expression is Fablunget. Like Willy Wonka himself, getting such phrases backwards is a prime example of this state of mind.

How many times have you felt this way yourself, regardless of your familiarity with Yiddish idioms? How often have you been going at such a pace your mind is racing faster than your body’s capacity to keep up? How many instances can you count where you were juggling far too many things to keep track of efficiently?

These would be standard examples. But as I get older, I think of being fablunget in a different way. The notion that time is quickening and lessening. The opportunity to do more things that personally appeal rather than are required and being aware I won’t be able to do them all.

Quite some time ago (in my youthful 30’s!), I came to the realization that I would never be able to read all the books, listen to all the music, and watch all the movies I desired to. What has changed in nearly thirty years? You live your life, work, build up experiences and knowledge, and, hopefully, work your way toward retirement, a place where you can focus more on yourself and less on the responsibilities of a corporate mechanism.

Ah, there’s the rub. The impending sense of the diminishment of time. So much to do, so little time. The error to be made is to haphazardly rush through things, try to squeeze in as much as possible with whatever time (how much or how little depending on your health and perspective) you have left. For me to do that would be to undermine the stark realization I had thirty years prior.

There is no need to rush through to the end. It will get here soon enough. The opportunity is not about time but the freedom to enjoy it more. Will I be able to write MORE books? Or will I want to? Perhaps attending more writer’s conferences and workshops will be fulfilling. Trying out new recipes. Spending more time walking around and taking in my surroundings, appreciating them as much as a wool blanket in winter.

Granted, there is an irony to the notion of slowing down when there is less time. But truly appreciating your very being is something so few of us do, whether we have the chance or not. I’m going to take it.

THE THIRD ACT

F. Scott Fitzgerald famously once said “There are no second acts in American lives.” The phrase has been interpreted and misinterpreted quite a bit over time. But like a good theater production, most lives are three act plays. We, the ones who live those lives, are participants contemporaneously with being an audience, assuming one has a strong sense of self-awareness. We may not know when each act ends or the next begins until the transition has occurred.

For example, I put my first thirty-three years into one initial act. In it, I began life, received an education, became both a reprobate as well as a survivor, made a few mistakes and atoned for them, set out on a journey almost Odyssean in nature, before coming home, so to speak, living and working in Boston.

It was several years after I met the woman who has now been my wife of twenty-five years while living in Boston and followed her to her home of Wichita, KS that I could consider that portion of my life to be a second act. One might think it to be the finale, the romantic fantasy and the happily-ever-after music swelling up. But, as they say, it was only the beginning. Transitions, growth, failure, understanding are all the hallmarks of the excitement one feels watching an identifiable hero go through several jousts and battles with dragons, as it were.

Age, the creeping ailment of all humans, creates an awareness of a third and final act. You may plan for it, set a date, have a target, but as with all change, you won’t know until you get there.

For me, it was finally finding a house to move into during what is typically referred to as downsizing. Not as big, not so many stairs, still enough space but not as much, thereby requiring purging, donating, selling, giving away, or just plain throwing out. Most people don’t take inventory of their possessions or their lives while we are all “in transit.” You can understand why the digital age is more convenient as you pack countless boxes of books and DVDs. While you are thrilled to be proficient in culinary skills, you need to reconsider how many appliances you need in a smaller kitchen.

First, the move out. Then, selling the old home. Followed by Retirement, at least no longer working full-time for a company that regulates your life. And then…

Ah, there’s the rub. Writers can create other people’s stories but they might not be as proficient creating their own. Nor should they. Writers simply need to live, to experience Life in all its many splendors as well as its difficulties. I see the road sign ahead. This is the Third Act.

“THE DAY OF CALAMITY” – EXCERPT #4

A quiet cab ride brought me to the Wichita Carnegie Library. Such an austere building did not know what to do with the likes of Carla Duggan. She recently turned forty and had red hair Rita Hayworth would be jealous of to go along with the personality and verbal acuity of Martha Raye. She dressed conservatively for the most part but certainly was not readily identifiable as a research librarian by many folks. She would have fit in perfectly on the Fred Allen Show. However, her knowledge on a wealth of subjects made her an invaluable resource to both executives and educators. I could never learn much about her background as she was an immaculate storyteller. Truth and fiction blended in a dizzying array of anecdotes, most of which had details out of whack whenever she retold them. It was as though she were continually editing the story of her life.

            A broad Irish smile grew upon her face as I walked in. I was always concerned she would break the silence with a loud welcome even though she never did. She leaned on the counter as I approached acting like I was Frank Sinatra and she a star-struck fan.

            “Greetings, Tribe of Judah,” she said with great authority.

            “Greetings, my Celtic imp.”

            “What brings you to the Halls of Wisdom?”

            “Helmut Sondergaard.” Usually, all it took was a name to set the conversation off like the Kentucky Derby.

            “Danish. Emigrated a couple of years before the war. Went into business with Albert Whitman to form Whitson Import & Export. Died in 1943.” She would have been a natural on Winner Take All or Break the Bank.

            “Anything unusual about his death?”

            “Nothing in the papers.” I didn’t know what I was fishing for, but it was worth it to cast a line.

            “And Whitman?”

            “Until the business partnership, no mention of him in the Eagle or Beacon.”

Private detective Harold Bergman stood as a testament to his former life as a Wichita Kansas policeman. Having endured the brutalities of World War II, he carries a slight but noticeable limp, a constant reminder of the battles fought on distant shores. As a Jew, his identity is woven into the very fabric of his being, but he cannot fulfill his father’s wishes that he become a rabbi, and instead faces a world where the laws of God and the laws of man don’t make sense, taking it upon himself to find the Truth and perhaps himself.

Harold finds himself entangled in the lives of a spoiled daughter, and the wayward husband of a devout colored woman. Their cases take Harold on a perilous journey into the depths of a dark underworld, where shadows dance with malicious intent and faith emerges as his sole weapon. Failure to wield it will usher in a day of calamity.

“The Day of Calamity” , The Wichita Chronicles Volume 1 will be released on November 29, 2023.

THE FELINE FACTOR

When I was younger, there were definitive choices. Chocolate or vanilla. Beatles or Stones. Dogs or Cats. Well, I eschewed chocolate for vanilla (and eventually went over-the-top for vanilla bean). I was a big Beatles fan, tried to rebel and enjoy the Stones, but segued into The Who and Led Zeppelin. And for the longest time I was a dog guy.

That is, until I met my wife in Boston in 1995. She had as her devoted companion a runt cat, then eleven years of age, named (of all things) R.C. How many times she confused H.B. with R.C. I can’t possibly recall. He was half full seal-point Siamese and very regal. Well, that whole dog thing went out the window.

After he passed at the age of 20, we took in three from a no-kill animal shelter in Andover, KS. There was a black-and-white bi-color little lady named Camille; her litter mate and tuxedo named Rupert; and my ornery black cat Mongo. They were all a delight. But Mongo made me feel like I was in the same room as Raymond Chandler. His favorite black cat, Taki, appeared in many photos. I made sure to do the same with Mongo.

They passed from our lives until we got Lady Mittens and Sir Pounce Alot from Beauties and Beasts, an 11th hour animal rescue shelter in Wichita, KS. They were manx cats, something neither my wife and I had experienced. Lady Mittens is an elegant tuxedo. Sir Pouce Alot is orange.

When I started developing the Wichita Chronicles, I had in mind my main character, Harold Bergman, was going to be a former policeman, an injured World War II veteran, and a Jew. On a lark, I decided to include my own cats as part of his life, considering how closely I felt to Harold. But there would have to be a reason for their presence. They couldn’t just be there for comic relief. Any character in possession of pets must need to take care of them. This requires some degree of literary exposition. How exactly do they live with him and how are they taken care of?

Finally, beyond all of that, why are they even there? Since I was developing Harold to be close to me in mentality and thought and morality, I felt I could imbue him with the same sense of compatibility that I had developed with all the cats in my life since 1995. Yet, there needed to be something more.

First, how did they get into his life? The back story (which appears early in the first book “The Day of Calamity”) is that the prior resident of Harold’s apartment was a pixilated Irishman who was a bartender and had the two cats. He died suddenly and, despite the housing crisis in post-World War II Wichita, many felt the apartment was cursed. The landlady didn’t have the heart to dispose of them but offered a discount on rent with a promise of a one-year lease and keeping and maintaining the cats. He accepted.

This, naturally, creates the environment in which the main character lives. But what of the felines themselves? What role do they play, perhaps in each book and certainly in the overall world of Harold Bergman? For this answer, I needed to turn to my own life. What is it that cats bring to my world? What did I learn from them? What is it they add each and every day?

You can start with the notion of a guy meeting a gal who has a cat. If the guy likes the gal and wants to continue on in some kind of relationship, he better darn well realize the cat (or cats) were there before him and for a good reason. Therefore, acceptance is the minimum. Understanding is vitally necessary.

Well, R.C. was my first cat and he initiated me into the world of felines for 9 years. When Mongo came into my life as part of a triumvirate, I figured I was well on my way to being a writer of crime fiction. Then I came across a great photo of one of my favorite pulp writers, Jim Thompson, with a cat.

There is a whimsical quality to it. Of course, Hemingway was noted for having polydactyl cats.

The progeny of those six-toed cats still reside on the property in Key West.

My wife and I do not have children. While I reject the notion of being a Cat Dad (for the purposes of getting me a pre-fabricated card on Father’s Day), I do take seriously the responsibility of caring for the loving feline residents in my home. I’ve gone through the pain of watching four pass across the Rainbow Bridge after years of having the pleasure of their company.

I have learned fastidiousness, freedom from convention, passionate action, ultimate and total relaxation, intensity (sometimes in the form of stalking), the simplicity of staring out a window or basking in the sun. I have watched trust in the form of offering bellies or ears to be rubbed. I have witnessed pure and uncompromising joy. Perhaps these same qualities can be found in dogs. My own experience has been restricted to cats for the past 28 years.

What then does Harold Bergman receive from his own association? Initially, it is more about acquiescing. He has had no prior experience with any pets in his youth. The opportunity to get an apartment in post-World War II Wichita with a remaining influx of workers is his sole motivation when we learn how he acquired the apartment:

The first-floor apartment contained a main room looking out over the street and pocket doors separating the quaint kitchenette, the bathroom, and the small bedroom. The cats of which she spoke were two Manx, one an elegant tuxedo named Lady Mittens and the other a bright orange fellow called Sir Pounce. None of O’Malley’s co-workers would take them in, and Mrs. Hanover didn’t have the heart to evict them, being the good Christian woman she was. That I was willing to move in with a guaranteed one-year lease and maintain the feline residents allowed her to offer me a reduced monthly rent. The place was in proximity to everywhere in downtown I needed to be. I did not believe in curses and had no aversion to felines I was aware of. I just didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

Somewhere along the way, the relationship between man and cat became symbiotic, then eventually became mutually beneficial. Whether his day involves an extreme of physical, mental, or emotional energy, Harold returns to the comfort of his home. Perhaps the cats seek attention or merely food. In either case, the act of tending to their needs brings him closer to God because it creates an act of dedication and devotion.

I made a concerted effort to find any reference to cats specifically in both Biblical and Talmudic texts. The closest I came was Eruvin 100b:

Similarly, Rabbi Yoḥanan said: Even if the Torah had not been given, we would nonetheless have learned modesty from the cat…

Without a specific tract to use as a reference point, I turned inward to consider how the various cats in my life have had an impact upon me both as a writer and a person. There, in my own life, I found the attributes that Harold Bergman could share with me. This is, quite naturally, a trope not found in the traditional hard-boiled genre. Whereas we can look to the charming photos of Chandler and Thompson with their cats, they seem more a part of the writers’ lives than their literary creations.

Therefore, it was a conscious decision to add a level of complexity to these stories by removing the devoted secretary (i.e., Effie Perrine for Sam Spade, Velda for Mike Hammer) and putting our main character, the private detective, with cats who are representative of countless mythological symbols.

They offer no support toward resolution of cases as the human associates would. They can not provide feedback. What they do in the life of Harold Bergman is create an environment where he can find peace and tranquility after experiences in the war and the shadows of criminal dealings have tainted his perspective on human existence. In that regard, we are much alike.

***

Private detective Harold Bergman stood as a testament to his former life as a Wichita Kansas policeman. Having endured the brutalities of World War II, he carries a slight but noticeable limp, a constant reminder of the battles fought on distant shores. As a Jew, his identity is woven into the very fabric of his being, but he cannot fulfill his father’s wishes that he become a rabbi, and instead faces a world where the laws of God and the laws of man don’t make sense, taking it upon himself to find the Truth and perhaps himself.

Harold finds himself entangled in the lives of a spoiled daughter, and the wayward husband of a devout colored woman. Their cases take Harold on a perilous journey into the depths of a dark underworld, where shadows dance with malicious intent and faith emerges as his sole weapon. Failure to wield it will usher in a day of calamity.

“The Day of Calamity” , The Wichita Chronicles Volume 1 will be released on November 29, 2023.