Mark Rubinstein's Blog, page 42

Skippy Jon Jones and Jane

Our dear friend, Jane, is the breeder from whom we got our first two fabulous Australian shepherds, Billy Dundee and Maggie Rose. Jane has a soul bigger than the state of Texas.

She recently had surgery and left her Chihuahua, Skippy Jon Jones (who she found at the side of a road) with a friend while she recuperated. Skippy Jon was brought to visit Jane nearly every day.

Just before discharge, Jane learned that Skippy Jon was missing. He’d been let out in the back of the house, and disappeared. An intense search began, but it’s been weeks, and Skippy Jon is gone. Jane fears he was taken by a coyote.

Despite his diminutive size, Skippy Jon ruled supreme over Jane’s other far larger dogs. He was her constant companion, followed her everywhere, and stole Jane’s larger-than-life heart.

All dog lovers know the ache that now fills Jane’s heart. We share in her loss but know Skippy Jon now romps joyously through the verdant, sunlit fields of doggie heaven with Jane’s past beloved canines: Trooper, Mickey, Banner, Midge, Patrick, and all the others who filled Jane’s life with love.

We know Jane’s heart is large and gracious and she will bring her love to another soul who will be fortunate to share her life.

So, Janie…in memory of Skippy Jon, all author’s proceeds derived from book signing talks for my novel, “Mad Dog House,” will be donated in Skippy Jon’s memory to local humane shelters.

Thus far, donations are being made to:

Ridgefield: R.O.A.R. (Ridgefield Operation for Animal Rescue)

Wilton and New Canaan: PAWS (Pet Animal Welfare Society

As the book tour continues, so too will memorial contributions.

Mark Rubinstein
Author, “Mad Dog House”

Why I Love Dogs

People who hear about “Mad Dog House” sometimes ask if the novel is about dogs.

Well, no…it’s a suspense thriller novel about a protagonist whose nickname as a kid was “Mad Dog.”

Some people ask if I like dogs. I LOVE dogs--all kinds; every size, shape, color and type. I could list the many things I love about them--from their loyalty, to their spirit, beauty and their souls, but I think the Pueblo legend of the earth’s beginning sums it all up. Here it is:

In the beginning, when the Great Spirit created the earth, man and all the animals stood on a great plain. Suddenly, a chasm formed in the earth and left man standing alone, while the animals remained on the other side.

Man called across the chasm, “Who among you will join me?"

Of all the animals, only the dog leapt across the chasm and stood at man’s side.

Mark Rubinstein,
Author, “Mad Dog House

No! I Won't Use An e-Reader!

I love books, whether electronic or paper. I’ll read on my Kindle or a “regular” book, whatever’s available.

But I’ve heard many people refuse to use an e-reader. It’s the usual mantra about loving the “feel” or “smell” of paper, or the love of “holding a real book in my hands.” I too, have those feelings but they haven’t precluded me from using an e-reader. After all, one reading medium doesn’t rule out using the other.

So why do some people refuse--absolutely reject--the idea of using an e-reader. It’s not that they’re knuckle-draggers because they often have smart phones, iPads, iPods, computers, use Skype and other high tech devices. So what exactly causes them to spurn this one technology?

I’ve thought about it as a psychiatrist. Maybe it’s the fact that reading is something cultivated over the course of a lifetime, often beginning in childhood. Many book-lovers were read to as children--by a parent, babysitter, or some other adult.

“Read me a story” is something most of us can relate to if we think back to our earliest times. It becomes embedded in our psyches as a distinct childhood pleasure. It’s loaded with meaning, and the experience is suffused with smell memories of paper, the look and feel of a book, and the other mental, emotional and bodily sensations that accompany being read to as a child.

Perhaps some people refuse to “give up” those earliest sensory and emotional memories, and view e-readers as a renunciation of one of life’s early pleasures. I’m just saying.

Mark Rubinstein,
Author, “Mad Dog House” (October 2012)

The Real Value of Reviews

Every writer knows the value of good reviews: they can help sell a book.

The reviews are coming in for MAD DOG HOUSE. I’m very pleased at how favorable they are. Some appear on Goodreads. Many more are on Amazon.

While I wrote the novel simply wanting to tell a rocket-propelled story, many reviews have given me something more than a marketing tool.

Thoughtful reviews--without spoilers—explore the characters and storyline in depth. Frankly, they give me insights about the novel and my writing.

Yes, I was aware that the story deals with how the past affects our present and future. I also knew I was writing about whether we’re completely formed by our genetic predispositions, or if circumstances help define us—the nature/nurture controversy.

But some reviews made me aware of other layers in the novel--ones lurking in some mental recess, which emerged through the characters and situations.

Reading these reviews revealed I’d raised questions about good versus evil; right and wrong; and whether the ends justify the means in extremely dire circumstances. Other reviewers pointed out that MAD DOG HOUSE asks questions about friendship, loyalty, bonds from the past, the effects of chance in our lives; the roles of family, and questions about love, revenge, and personal growth in tough times.

I admit I wasn’t fully cognizant of these issues as I created the characters and wrote the story. And in reading some reviews, I learned far more about my own novel (and myself) than I knew when I conceived and wrote it.

In other words, reading reviews is a personal learning experience. It gives me insight about myself and the issues lurking in my own mind. In a strange way, the reviews are a form of psychotherapy.

Maybe that’s the real value to be obtained from thoughtful reviews.

Mark Rubinstein,
Author, MAD DOG HOUSE

It's a Strange World Out There

I was amazed when I read a review of MAD DOG HOUSE on Amazon. It commented about the formatting problems encountered by the reader/reviewer. The review said that many sentences did not begin with capitalized letters, that organizations such as the FBI were typed in small letters, and that there were other problems with punctuation. The review even said that the text read like “stream of consciousness.”

I worried that perhaps there was a “corrupted” version of the e-book and looked into this. Here’s what I learned:

That all Kindle book files are Mobi files, which, in theory, are compatible across other devices (even the Nook) with the proper software on the part of the person downloading the book. The problem usually lies in the fact that Amazon doesn’t use EPUB (which is pretty much the industry format for eBooks) and their Mobi format sometimes doesn’t convert well onto other devices.

So, occasionally, someone with a device other than a Kindle, may download a book that’s been formatted for Kindle and may have a book that shows up on the screen with all kinds of strange—even bizarre—punctuation. The reader may think the book was formatted and uploaded incorrectly and feels the money spent on the book was wasted.

This is the world of e-books. These glitches happen with some frequency and there isn’t much that anyone can do right now to prevent them from happening. Indeed, cyberspace can be strange.

Mark Rubinstein,
Author, Mad Dog House

Living The Dogs' Life

I’ll bet you thought I’d blog about MAD DOG HOUSE. But you’re wrong.

As I’ve been saying, we were hit hard by Sandy and have been without power for seven days. We use a small generator just to power up the heat, microwave, one stove, and water heater, when needed. It’s easy to keep comfortable, and all things considered, we have it good compared to people in New Jersey, New York, and the Connecticut shore.

After dinner, when we turn off the generator, the house goes dark and quiet. There’s no TV, no light, no reading, and no other diversion--we just sit in the dark and talk. The dogs lie at our feet and fall asleep. There’s none of the usual nighttime activity: no horsing around by the dogs (yes, dogs love to “horse” around); our little Aussie, Jennie, loves TV but there’s none of that; there’s no whining to go out back and hunt or sniff around, and no commotion of any kind. The dogs do what comes naturally when the day is over: they go to sleep.

And so do we. By 8:30 or 9:00 we trudge upstairs (by flashlight) and all of us (dogs included) go to bed. We sleep soundly, and by dawn, we’re up and raring to go. We feel truly refreshed. It’s the natural order of things: you do what you do during daylight hours, and at night, you go to sleep.

It’s in keeping with nature’s rhythm, and while Sandy has been a huge inconvenience, we’re suddenly very aware of how far from nature we’ve migrated with our TVs, computers, iPads, Kindles, Nooks, books, light bulbs, and the things we usually do at night. So, we’re living the dogs’ life, and really, it isn’t so bad.

Mark Rubinstein,
Author, MAD DOG HOUSE

Powerless But Still Truckin'

Sandy really belted us in the gut. Much of Connecticut was devastated by high winds and floods, and parts of the state look like Katrina Redux. (I'm writing this on a friend's computer). So, I wasn’t optimistic about a book signing appearance scheduled yesterday, November 3rd, at the Fairfield University Bookstore in Fairfield, Connecticut. Actually, I thought there would be a minimal turnout.

The bookstore was gracious, and the staff was incredibly helpful. I sat at a table with a pile of MAD DOG HOUSE books and a sign saying “Meet the Author.” My pen was at the ready, but I expected little traffic given Sandy's aftermath.

But there’s something about a bookstore—especially this one. It’s not one of those characterless chain stores. This one has a coffee shop, comfortable lounge chairs, and a café section with WiFi--plenty of Fairfield University students sipped coffee and spent time on the internet with their laptops.

When people entered the store, I could tell that 90 percent of them lacked power. The men were unshaven and most people looked--for lack of a better word--bedraggled. People varied from their early 70s to young couples with toddlers in tow. Others were students.

Those who stopped by the table were talkative, friendly, and we commiserated a bit about Sandy. And we all knew it could have been far worse: think Haiti or the tsunami that devastated parts of Japan.

What struck me as a human being, writer and psychiatrist (since I observe people pretty closely) was the incredible spirit of these people. They found a certain hominess in the bookstore and its welcoming ambience. They laughed, showed an interest in the book, and having no TV, radio, or access to computers, experienced a heightened interest in reading. Despite having no cooking facilities, being unable to shower, shave, or have any of the usually taken-for-granted comforts of daily life, they were in good spirits.

They were optimistic, cheerful, readily accessible, and I enjoyed meeting and talking with them. The table piled with books was a perfect excuse for this contact, and some people (one charming man in particular—a guy named Myles) stayed for five or ten minutes and chatted about their lives, about books, and other things.

The three hours I spent at the bookstore were, for me, a testament to the resiliency of the human spirit and the willingness of many people to face adversity. Three quarters of the books on the table were purchased—and I enjoyed immensely the fact that I was able to write a personal note on the front plate of each book taken home by someone who, despite the devastation, would find pleasure (and escape) in reading. Bravo to them!

Mark Rubinstein
Author, MAD DOG HOUSE

A Book and its Cover

When I wrote Mad Dog House, I hoped I’d written an action-packed crime thriller about a man and his best friend who become silent partners in a New York restaurant. When they learn their lives and those of their loved ones are in danger, Roddy Dolan, must come up with a plan to get out of this predicament.

A graphic artist read the novel and devised a cover that captured the flavor and suspense of the book. It showed the title in blood red against an ominous backdrop of bare woods, with a sliver of moon at the top. In the middle of the “O” in “Dog” is the silhouette of a .45. The cover certainly depicts a crime thriller with frightening overtones.

I must admit, when the novel was about to be published, I worried that some women readers would find it too testosterone-driven because of the gritty dialogue, scenes of graphic violence, and the ominous-looking cover.

But reviewers (including women) commented that the story’s violence was in the service of not only telling a tale, but plumbed deeper issues, too. They included the moral dilemma of how far a man would go to protect himself and his loved ones; the roles of love, loyalty and betrayal; the effects our early lives have on us as adults; and whether we can leave our pasts behind, or be haunted and enslaved by our earlier years.

While I was aware of these issues as I wrote the novel, they weren’t uppermost in my mind. My goal was to tell a suspenseful story.

So I guess the bottom line is: there may be much more in a novel than what the book's cover depicts.

In other words, you can’t judge a book by its cover.

Mark Rubinstein
Author, Mad Dog House

A Most Unforgettable Character

For years, he and I stood on the platform waiting for the 6:07 AM train to Grand Central Station. We’d nod a polite hello, but never spoke. The ride into Manhattan took one and a half hours and I wouldn’t see him again until the next morning’s commute into the Big Apple.

He was about six feet tall, wore a long trench coat and fedora, and carried a leather briefcase. He looked like a judge, and I thought he appeared stern but kindly, and that he exuded a kind of judicial wisdom.

One frigid morning, for reasons I still don’t understand, I introduced myself--right on the train platform. We talked briefly, and when the train came, we sat next to each other. We talked about our lives--and he modestly said that while he ran a business with his two sons, he was a sculptor who carved life-sized marble figures using tools employed by the ancients--his methods are as old as art itself. He took out his cell phone and showed me a picture of one piece called “Neck Offering.” It was a mesmerizing white marble figure of a woman’s head and neck.

A week later, my wife and I met him and his beautiful wife at their home. We purchased “Neck Offering” which now sits on a pedestal in our dining room. I gaze at it each day, marveling at the beauty of her extended, curved neck, her flowing tresses and her exquisite features.

I’m writing this blog today because last Sunday, I attended a retrospective of his work at the home of one of his sons. Most of his sculptures had been transferred to the gallery his son built in his father's honor. A huge crowd attended. My sculptor friend gave a modest talk about his work and background while his adoring sons and wife listened amidst the throng.

Over time, I’ve learned a great deal about him. He graduated from a trade high school in the Bronx, and thought he would become an electrician. But World War II was raging, and he joined the army. He took an intelligence test and his score was off the charts. (He never said this; I simply know it). Rather than send him to the front, the U.S. Army sent him to Cornell on a government scholarship.

But he abhorred school--it was dry, stultifying, and he left the university. So the army dispatched him to the Pacific theatre where he was a rifleman during the Philippine campaign.

He returned from the war and became a draftsman, drawing meticulously crafted designs for industrial machines and equipment. During this time, he discovered in himself a love of the ancients, especially Egyptology. He was particularly fascinated by ancient monuments such as the Sphinx, the great Pyramids at Giza, and obelisks. He studied scholarly journals, visited the British Museum, and made many trips to Egypt to explore these incredible sites with his wife.

Over time, he became a self-taught scholar in the field, and theorized how the ancients moved huge blocks of stone (weighing tons) and how immense obelisks were raised. He demonstrated that these feats could be done with sticks and stones, and by understanding gravity and leverage. His theories created raging arguments in scholarly archeologic circles; yet he persisted in his beliefs. He wrote many papers which were published in the most prestigious journals; and he appeared in television’s NOVA series, where he demonstrated some of his theories.

In 2001, he wrote a fascinating book, Sticks, Stone, & Shadows: Building the Egyptian Pyramids, published by the University of Oklahoma Press. It explained his theories of these constructions, and was illustrated with scores of technical drawings he’d done himself. Not only that, this trade school graduate’s book has a forward written by Dieter Arnold, Senior Curator of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Professor of Egyptology at the University of Vienna.

Notably, only recently, scholars in the field have come to realize that my friend’s theories are most probably correct. He was able to look back in time and explain what had previously been speculation about the unknown.

Now, a month shy of 87, this remarkable man is still sculpting (smaller pieces) and is writing his memoirs. He is active, filled with life, has the most robust laugh I’ve ever heard, and possesses a sense of having fulfilled his artistic strivings.

This self-taught man, this autodidact—a writer, scholar, artist, sculptor, voracious reader of history, this businessman, husband and father—showed me that creativity and intellectual curiosity will always find an avenue of expression in someone with a passion for his art.

Martin Isler is a man I admire greatly. He is unforgettable. He will always be an artistic and lifestyle role model for me.

You can learn more about Martin Isler by visiting his newly established website: www.martinisler.com or visiting his Facebook page: Martin Isler Sculpture and Egyptology.

Mark Rubinstein
Author, Mad Dog House

Crimes, Criminals and NGRI

As a forensic psychiatrist now writing crime fiction (Mad Dog House, as a Kindle Select and now a trade paperback) I’m often asked about criminal issues and the Not Guilty By Reason Of Insanity plea often hyped in the media.

Yes, psychiatrists are called into court proceedings in such cases, and yes, these cases are usually controversial. (John Hinckley, The Unabomber, Mark David Chapman, who killed John Lennon, and most recently, the Aurora Colorado shooter, James Holmes).

Actually, these cases are quite rare, and make the headlines because they involve famous people or heinous crimes. But what isn’t as well known is the fact that less than one percent of criminal defenses involve NGRI pleas, and of those that do, very few are successful.

The heart of the NGRI defense involves the concept that the person committing the crime either lacked the capacity to differentiate right from wrong (was brain damaged, mentally retarded, or had some other affliction causing an inability to act within the law’s requirements). For instance, a paranoid man who fervently believes the FBI, CIA and KBG are following him, and because of that delusional belief, shoots someone walking behind him on a dark street because, in his insanity, he thought his own life was in danger.

NGRI defenses are difficult to prove and are rarely brought by defendants. When they are, forensic psychiatrists testify about the defendant’s mental state at the time of the crime. The jury must consider the arguments of each side, and make its decision based on the psychiatric testimony.

Perhaps the biggest misconception about NGRI pleas is the popular belief that, if found Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity, the defendant leaves court a free individual. In other words, the popular belief is that the defendant got away with it.

Not true. It’s a misconception.
If a jury concludes a defendant is NGRI, he or she is remanded to a state hospital for an indefinite period. That hospital confinement may exceed the time which would have been served had the defendant been found guilty and sent to prison!

The acquitee (which is the new term for the defendant) must undergo treatment in a locked psychiatric facility which is part of the Department of Corrections in most states.

Once each year, a review board meets to decide if the acquitee has been “restored to sanity.” In most cases of serious, deep-rooted mental illness of sufficient severity to have caused the acquitee to commit the crime, “restoration of sanity” is never achieved.

The average stay in a locked mental institution for insanity acquitees is thirty-five years, whereas the prison term for these same crimes averages about twenty years.

The Unabomber, John Hinckley, and Mark David Chapman are still in prison hospitals awaiting restoration of sanity. So, a successful NGRI plea doesn’t mean the defendant got away with a single thing.

Mark Rubinstein
Author, Mad Dog House