Malcolm R. Campbell's Blog, page 39

Happy Boxing Day

As I understand it, Boxing Day is one of those strange English Holidays that makes no sense at all since its purpose changed over time from giving gifts to the poor to watching old boxing matches.

Whenever my grandfather was visiting, we listened to every boxing match in the country on the radio–or later watched them on TV compliments of the Gillette Calvacade of Sports. So, because grandpa is probably keeping tabs on me, I’m watching the fight between Sonny Liston and Cassius Clay (as he was known at the time of the fight 1964 fight). I know how it turns out because, well, I was there when it happened–so to speak.

I hated boxing then and still hate it now, but I’m doing my duty watching Liston lose even though Clay was an underdog, some guy who spoke in poetry like: “If you want to lose your money, then bet on Sonny!”  I didn’t bet on anybody because grandpa said betting money on fights was wrong.

Some people in the States think Boxing Day is the day when people put stuff into boxes so they can re-gift it to the black sheep in the family a few years down the road. Now that, I could get behind more than watching Liston chasing Clay around the ring in the opening rounds of the fight.

While I supported Mohammad Ali’s (as Clay was later known) resistance to the draft, I thought that a little bit of his constant sing-song poetry went a long way. E.g.: “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. His hands can’t hit what his eyes can’t see. Now you see me, now you don’t. George thinks he will, but I know he won’t.”

I didn’t want to see any of it and I’m sure that it warped my life. Goodness knows why I watched the Rocky movies. Duty, as I said.

–Malcolm

 

 

 

Merry Christmas without the Green Bean Casserole

It is a popular side dish for Thanksgiving dinners in the United States and has been described as iconic. The recipe was created in 1955 by Dorcas Reilly at the Campbell Soup Company. As of 2020 Campbell’s estimated it was served in 20 million Thanksgiving dinners in the US each year and that 40% of the company’s cream of mushroom soup sales go into a version of the dish. -Wikipedia

I remember when this casserole first showed up. It was a big hit. Then it was a fad. Then, it became a joke. So I was surprised to see Campbell’s TV commercials advertising mushroom soup this fall that showed people serving the casserole and then to see in the Wikipedia quote that 40% of the company’s mushroom soup goes into this dish.

We used to use mushroom soup in stews and pot roasts but switched over to golden mushroom soup because we had this casserole so often, we couldn’t face mushroom soup anymore. We still like fried onions, but never saw as many of them in this casserole as shown in the picture from Wikipedia.

You won’t find green bean casserole at our house. Ever.

Whether you love the casserole or not, best wishes for a Merry Christmas.

–Malcolm

Limping through Christmas

We both have the flu. (This is a fact and not a request for pity.)The temperature is 16° up from 13°. The wind chill is -2°, though it was lower during the night when the winds were brisker than necessary.Dear keyboard manufacturers. Why did you take the ° symbol off the keyboard so that I now have to type a COBOL routine to use it?I finally re-ordered three missing gifts for Lesa since the original shipper kept sending the items to Rangoon. They won’t get here in time, but maybe an IOU under the tree will suffice.Since nobody volunteered to send me any gumbo, we’re having chili. When I make it, it’s better than Wendy’s chili and that has to count for something.I read in the news that Putin wants to end the war with Ukraine. Okay, just withdraw your troops and stop shelling civilians and you’ll get your wish. I’m sure you recognize your spent rockets. Just don’t fire any more of them and the war will be over. It’s not rocket science.Meanwhile, Tucker Carlson over at “Fox News” claims that our representatives “clapped like seals” during Zelensky’s speech. So what? Many of them are seals. My publisher Thomas-Jacob sent out a cool end-of-the-year newsletter to subscribers with news and deals. You can get in on the action by subscribing. Click on the graphic for the subscription form.Robbie, our indoor/outdoor cat has spent most of the day outdoors. What the hell is he thinking?I hope you have a great Christmas–and stay warm.

–Malcolm

Gumbo: do you know what it is?

I’m a fan of cajun food, but will certainly eat creole food. I need somebody to make some proper gumbo and send it to my house ready to eat.

Here’s Wikipedia’s definition: “Gumbo (Louisiana Creole: Gombo) is a soup popular in the U.S. state of Louisiana, and is the official state cuisine.[1] Gumbo consists primarily of a strongly-flavored stock, meat or shellfish (or sometimes both), a thickener, and the Creole “holy trinity” ― celery, bell peppers, and onions. Gumbo is often categorized by the type of thickener used, whether okra or filé powder (dried and ground sassafras leaves)..”

I don’t approve of filé powder because it’s cheating and, after all, the okra IS the gumbo. Let’s face it, Northwest Georgia has very few Louisiana-style restaurants…not counting Popeye’s Chicken (which I like).

Unfortunately, nobody else in my family–including my brother and his wife in Orlando, my daughter and her family in Maryland, or my wife–likes cajun food.

Well then, no gumbo beneath the tree. Well then, maybe a vat of chili will do.

–Malcolm

Pre-Christmas Gumbo

I’m sitting here sipping three fingers of wonderful single malt, thinking it must be 3:20 p .m. somewhere.Téa Obreht’s Inland reminds me of the prose style of Cormac McCarthy. She uses two overlapping timelines and that makes reading a challenge. As you read, you may well wonder how so many well-meaning people come to ruin.I may have to put some IOUs under the Christmas tree since several gifts I ordered for Lesa haven’t shown up even though I got at least four e-mails that said, “Your orders arrive today.” Nothing on the porch. Nothing in the mailbox. Nothing leaning against the garage door (it has happened). I finally sent a response back: “No they didn’t.” They said “OMG, we’ll get right on it.” I got to more “your order arrived today” e-mails today. If they don’t show up in today’s mail, I think it’s about time to say this store and those gifts are a lost cause.As look at today’s national weather stories about the possibility of a bomb cyclone, I’m really happy I no longer live on the Illinois/Wisconsin border. You’ll notice that the graphic shows a few flakes drifting across the state line into Georgia. We’re promised little to no accumulation.Our tree is up, but undecorated. No worries. There’s plenty of time. Last year, our tree stayed up until February. We have our own schedule here, having just mailed out the out-of-town gifts a few days ago. They’ll probably arrive late. People expect that of us. If they were to arrive on time, we’d get phone calls from folks saying, “Are you guys okay?”Our nearby horse/dog/cat rescue and retirement farm is fighting higher and higher prices this year from maintenance to bales of hay. If you’re looking for a great organization to support, directly or via Amazon’s smile program, please consider Sun Kissed Acres. From their home page: Hundreds of horses have come to the farm, most have endured unspeakable cruelty and neglect. They come to us unable to stand, unable to trust, and they are given careful attention and veterinary care, a soft place to land.

–Malcolm

If you shop for Christmas gifts as late as I do, you can find some great books in my publisher’s catalogue.

Wind Chill Advisory? Huh, this is Georgia.

Look, when I lived on the Illinois/Wisconsin border, I expected this kind of thing–and worse. But I don’t expect it here in North Georgia. We already have snow in the forecast for Thursday night.

Is this climate change, a fluke, or Mother Nature run amock? Nobody seems to know. As long as our furnace keeps working and I don’t have to go outside, I guess it doesn’t much matter.

Today, the indoor/outdoor cat is already inside, much earlier than usual. When he came in, he was soaking wet. Fortunately, we have a towel in a box for him to curl up in and thaw out.

The HGTV network’s house hunter show keeps airing episodes in which people from the States are moving to the Mexican coast with the Pacific Ocean just outside the front door. I have to say, I’m tempted. well, not really, but figuratively speaking.

I’m just glad I no longer have to commute to Atlanta for work. Any mention of a snowflake–other than certain politicians–closes down the whole Interstate system which, even when it’s open on a sunny day, seems like it’s closed down. On the worst snow, we ever had–which was called “snow jam,’ my front-wheel drive Buick got us home when most people abandoned their cars on the side of the road. Not doing that again.

So, I’m not expecting an official snow jam here in Rome, Georgia. But if there is one, I don’t care, I’m retired and don’t have to go to work–or to the store for 1000000 rolls of toilet paper.

–Malcolm 

The Website: Calling it a Day

I have closed down my website which used to be found at http://www.malcolmcambellbooks.com/. At my age, I can legitimately say I’m semi-retired though I do turn out a novel now and then when the writing addiction takes over my life. You can find these books by searching on Malcolm R. Campbell on the Barnes & Noble website where you do have the option to purchase my e-books in a Nook format. You can also find my books listed on my Amazon author page at https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B002BLZ3EO or by searching on Malcolm R. Campbell. Here, of course, my e-books appear as Kindle books. 

You can also find my books on my publisher’s website in the catalog section. 

I urge you to consider purchasing books through a private bookstore with a website that offers online sales; or by taking advantage of the listings at bookshop.org where you can find my books by searching on my name or on the book’s title.

Meanwhile, I’ll continue to announce new books on this blog, write occasional reviews, and otherwise fill the pages here with the usual sarcastic nonsense you’ve become accustomed to reading.

I’ve had a website at various times in my career, most often hosted by homestead.com which has easy-to-use editing software and also handles your domain name. If you are an emerging author with a lot of sales and name recognition, a website will probably help you. Otherwise, it probably won’t because readers search for authors they’ve heard of. If they don’t know your name, they won’t find your site.

Nonetheless, having a site is fun, and I do appreciate everyone who has visited this most-recent iteration of my website.

–Malcolm

The worst thing a writer can do is write

Most writers I know have been trying to quit for years. But, they got themselves fooled into thinking they can tinker with a little writing here and there and then quit any time they want. Not going to happen.

Writing just leads to more writing. Case in point. I was safely going day to day happy to tell myself that my book was stalled and that I was going to spend me resulting idle years keeping bees. I decided to take a few minutes to prove to myself I was really stuck, so I wrote a few paragraphs without really caring how I did it, and suddenly the dam broke and the whole story came flooding through my house like a flash flood in a dry wash.

So now I have to keep writing because I can’t claim I’m stuck. Should have left the darned thing alone.

Throw this crap away along with all your pens and pencils and keyboards.

Writing a few words is like smoking just more cigarette, stopping at the old watering hole for one more drink, or shooting up a bit of heroin just once for the road–so to speak. None of these things help you quit any more than writing just one more word gets the writing addiction off your back.

Let’s call it what it is: an addiction. If you write, you’re addicted and cold turkey is the only way out.

Don’t even write a check or a Christmas letter or a note to the milkman, or a grocery list. Just stop. Think of this post as tough love. If you can’t stop, shoot yourself in the foot, have yourself committed to a home, or go to jail. It’s for the best.

Malcolm

Malcolm R. Campbell keeps writing novels because he thinks he can quit any time he wants.

 

Cormac McCarthy’s two-novel release of the year

“These new novels flush McCarthy out of his rhetorical cover, and his decidedly austere and unillusioned answer to both of these questions is no. In a world lit by the “evil sun” of nuclear invention, all history, Bobby thinks, is nothing more than “a rehearsal for its own extinction.” And, when the world finally kills itself off, nothing will be left—not words, not music, not mathematics, not God. Not even the Devil.” – James Wood in “Cormac McCarthy Peers Into the Abyss,” The New Yorker.

Fans of Cormac McCarthy–and I am one of them–will see in the two paired novels (The Passenger and Stella Maris) which can be purchased separately or as a boxed set, a gift from the eighty-nine-year-old novelist that (perhaps) represent a swan song, a look at something different, the abyss as James Wood says.

The Passenger

NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLER • The Pulitzer Prize–winning author of The Road returns with the first of a two-volume masterpiece: The Passenger is the story of a salvage diver, haunted by loss, afraid of the watery deep, pursued for a conspiracy beyond his understanding, and longing for a death he cannot reconcile with God.

A NEW YORK TIMES BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR

“McCarthy returns with a one-two punch…a welcome return from a legend.” —Esquire

“Look for Stella Maris, the second volume in The Passenger series, available now.

“1980, PASS CHRISTIAN, MISSISSIPPI: It is three in the morning when Bobby Western zips the jacket of his wet suit and plunges from the Coast Guard tender into darkness. His dive light illuminates the sunken jet, nine bodies still buckled in their seats, hair floating, eyes devoid of speculation. Missing from the crash site are the pilot’s flight bag, the plane’s black box, and the tenth passenger. But how? A collateral witness to machinations that can only bring him harm, Western is shadowed in body and spirit—by men with badges; by the ghost of his father, inventor of the bomb that melted glass and flesh in Hiroshima; and by his sister, the love and ruin of his soul.
 
“Traversing the American South, from the garrulous barrooms of New Orleans to an abandoned oil rig off the Florida coast, The Passenger is a breathtaking novel of morality and science, the legacy of sin, and the madness that is human consciousness.”

 

Stella Maris

“NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLER • The Pulitzer Prize–winning author of The Road returns with the second volume of The Passenger series: Stella Maris is an intimate portrait of grief and longing, as a young woman in a psychiatric facility seeks to understand her own existence.

“1972, BLACK RIVER FALLS, WISCONSIN: Alicia Western, twenty years old, with forty thousand dollars in a plastic bag, admits herself to the hospital. A doctoral candidate in mathematics at the University of Chicago, Alicia has been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, and she does not want to talk about her brother, Bobby. Instead, she contemplates the nature of madness, the human insistence on one common experience of the world; she recalls a childhood where, by the age of seven, her own grandmother feared for her; she surveys the intersection of physics and philosophy; and she introduces her cohorts, her chimeras, the hallucinations that only she can see. All the while, she grieves for Bobby, not quite dead, not quite hers. Told entirely through the transcripts of Alicia’s psychiatric sessions, Stella Maris is a searching, rigorous, intellectually challenging coda to The Passenger, a philosophical inquiry that questions our notions of God, truth, and existence.”

–

The Passenger and Stella Maris are spun around existential themes and big ideas like morality and science. They follow the story of two siblings, Bobby and Alicia Western, who are tormented by the ghosts of their physicist father, inventor of the atom bomb that “melted glass and flesh in Hiroshima.” In The Passenger — which opens on a frigid night at Mississippi’s Pass Christian in 1980 and traverses the 19th century American South — salvage diver Bobby Western becomes a “collateral witness” to machinations that put him in harm’s way.  McCarthy, as ever, is interested in the “madness called the human consciousness”. – Nawaid Anjum in “Inside the violent, visceral world of Cormac McCarthy, one of America’s greatest writers” The Federal.

–Malcolm

 

 

 

‘Lady Sings the Blues’

When the 1972 film “Lady Sings the Blues” aired the other night on one of the many DISH network channels, it was hard not to think of the original autobiography of Billie Holiday that was reissued in an anniversary edition in 2006. When you watch the movie, which I like, you’re seeing a bit of Diana Ross simmered and stirred into Holiday. I think you get closer to the real Billie When you read the book–though it’s hard to separate out the influences of those who helped her write it. I’ve heard all her songs and think they’re the best way to understand Holiday, especially if you have a version with analog sound instead of the always-slightly-false digital approach. (My bias.)

From the Publisher

“Perfect for fans of The United States vs. Billie Holiday, this is the fiercely honest, no-holds-barred memoir of the legendary jazz, swing, and standards singing sensation—a fiftieth-anniversary edition updated with stunning new photos, a revised discography, and an insightful foreword by music writer David Ritz

“Taking the reader on a fast-moving journey from Billie Holiday’s rough-and-tumble Baltimore childhood (where she ran errands at a whorehouse in exchange for the chance to listen to Louis Armstrong and Bessie Smith albums), to her emergence on Harlem’s club scene, to sold-out performances with the Count Basie Orchestra and with Artie Shaw and his band, this revelatory memoir is notable for its trenchant observations on the racism that darkened Billie’s life and the heroin addiction that ended it too soon. 
 
“We are with her during the mesmerizing debut of “Strange Fruit”; with her as she rubs shoulders with the biggest movie stars and musicians of the day (Bob Hope, Lana Turner, Clark Gable, Benny Goodman, Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins, and more); and with her through the scrapes with Jim Crow, spats with Sarah Vaughan, ignominious jailings, and tragic decline. All of this is told in Holiday’s tart, streetwise style and hip patois that makes it read as if it were written yesterday.”

–

I’ve read conflicting claims about Holiday’s acceptance as an artist after she recorded her most powerful song, “Strange Fruit.” Some say she found it harder to work after that while others say her status when up. The song is a strong indictment of the lynchings of African Americans.

 

Malcolm

Malcolm R. Campbell is the author of the Florida Folk Magic Series of novels in which the blues have a strong presence.