Soon, I will have all my books back...

...but for now:

The BR Pile

Frederick Forsyth, The Day of the Jackal

A friend once called me an “eighteenth-century structure freak.” It is, regrettably, a fairly accurate description. Maybe that’s why DotJ absolutely sent me. OMG, the structure. At first, I was wondering why the in-depth background of what seemed to be tertiary characters, thinking I’d give it one more chapter before I got bogged down to the point of somnolence. And then I saw what Forsyth was doing, building the connections the way a detective does—and the way a villain plans an assassination—moving from the known to the unknown. It was one of those ideal situations where you’re marveling at the craftsmanship (not only the writing, but the tradecraft) at the same time you can’t put the book down. I picked the book up because I’m catching up on my classic thrillers and figured that if the movie is as good as it is, the novel must be even better. I was right.

Jeff Gordinier, X Saves the World: How Generation X Got the Shaft but Can Still Keep Everything from Sucking

I was a little skeptical of this at first; I’d really responded to Gordinier’s YouTube video describing the book (how typically Generation X), but as a Gen Xer myself, I bridled at the thought of being examined and pigeonholed (how typically Generation X). The book is really more of a celebration of how “Generation X is doing the quiet work of keeping the world from sucking.” Snuggled uneasily between the nostalgic-to-the-point-of-dogmatism Boomers and the group-‘n’-greed-oriented Millennials, Gordinier’s point is that a comparatively small demographic born between 1960 and 1979 has been unfairly categorized as coffee-sucking slackers while at the same time reshaping the way America (and maybe the world) lives, thinks, and does business. It’s not a full-on sociological or ethnological study, but it works as an introduction to the Gen-X mindset and as a manifesto for a generation who are anti-manifesto. It was, like its subject, iconoclastic, micro, skeptical, poetical, technical, hip, and ultimately, optimistic. I had fun reading it, felt smug about recognizing the music, media, and movie references, and found myself thinking, “yeah, man, it’s about time!”

Charlaine Harris, From Dead to Worse

One of the things I love most about Charlaine’s supernatural books is the complexity and honesty she brings to her world-building. The alien, often violent, world of vampires, shapeshifters, fae, and other supernaturals is not made easier with the transition into the legal, commercial, and emotional environments of mere mortals. Then there’s the tightrope Sookie Stackhouse has to walk between these two worlds, given her unique talents, prized by the supes, feared or misunderstood by humans. Add to those the stresses of rebuilding all these communities in the Gulf post-Katrina, and it’s no surprise that the eighth book in the series is packed with action, emotion, and, well, philosophy. How do you make decisions when the rules with which you’re used to dealing don’t exist in the cultures asking for your help? As a reader, I always appreciate that Charlaine avoids taking things to the maudlin or histrionic, and just when you think things are going to get out of hand, Sookie’s moral compass and sense of humor keep things real. That’s my definition of a real hero.

Martians and pixie dust

I’m usually pretty good about not venting my spleen on inanimate objects, but I really had a fit the other day when I heard someone on the radio complaining that only 55% of NASA’s missions to Mars have been successful.

“What the hell do you want, you effing microcephaloid?” I screamed, froth spattering the innocent radio. “It’s another PLANET! You slash an agency’s budget repeatedly and they STILL come up with a plan for interplanetary exploration—one that is currently succeeding—and you have the gall to complain, you mental pygmy?”

My ire almost obscured the important fact: the Phoenix landed on Mars and started sending back pictures. You should check them out, here.

O.
M.
G.

Sign me up. I’m dazzled. If I ran the zoo, a crewed mission would already be heading to Mars.

And then I read about a procedure that may help a wounded U.S. soldier regrow his fingers. Regrow. In addition to surgery, the doctors (specialists in regenerative medicine) use a powder to trick the body into regenerating cells. Nicknamed “pixie dust,” it’s derived from pig tissue. It’s still in the experimental stage, but has amazing potential.

To paraphrase one of the doctors working on the procedure, “science fiction eventually becomes true.” This is what reassures me, when it seems like the weasels are closing in. We can do amazing things, when we put our minds to it. More science, more education, not less. When I run the zoo, my comprehensive education plan will make Jed Bartlet look like Mr. Squeers.

But in the meantime, I’ve stopped hissing and spitting at the radio and started skipping. Just a little.

Recent events

Last week was pretty hectic, what with carpenters loose in the house and two events in the local mystery community.  Best not to talk about the work being done on the house.  Far more interesting to talk about the mystery events.

The first was the celebration of the 25th anniversary of Kate’s Mystery Books, in Cambridge, MA, owned by Kate Mattes.  Many of the New England crowd turned out (Linda Barnes is talking with Kate, below, right).  Those of us readers and writers in the Boston area—make that the Northeast—have all benefited one way or another from knowing Kate over the years.  Actually, make that the country:  Kate and her bookstore were recently honored with the prestigious Mystery Writers of America’s Raven Award (left), for service to the mystery community.  I could tell you how I found Kate’s as a reader, and then how, when my first book came out, she was the first to offer me an event, how she introduced me to folks I needed to know, and pointed me toward books I needed to read.  This would be the story that most any writer who came to the store could tell you.  Kate will be moving the store’s location and we’re all looking forward to the next anniversary in the new digs.  (Toni Kelner wrote a nice description on May 16, of Kate, her store, and the party here.)

And then on Thursday, I participated in a Sisters in Crime event at Leominster Library (in case you didn’t know, Kate Mattes was one of the founders of Sisters in Crime).  There was a really nice crowd for our discussion of “The Modern Heroine,” and with me on the panel was Kate Flora, (seated right) past New England chapter President and SinC “Goddess,” and Hank Phillippi Ryan, who just won the Agatha for best first novel (middle).  The program was organized by NE SinC chapter president Ruth McCarty.  What I most enjoyed about the talk was that we covered everything from guns to research to our characters’ relationships to editorial issues.

No, I didn't empty them all myself

I’m in exile.  In the past month, I’ve packed up my entire office (with almost twelve years worth of accumulation and accretion) and the library/guest room.  This is the main reason I’ve been absent from this space for so long. 

I’ve been plaguing all the local liquor stores for empty boxes because it’s an excellent reuse of the cardboard boxes they get by the tens (sometimes hundreds) every day.  It’s a good thing I started when I did, because college is letting out all over New England, and every kid on every nearby campus is thinking:  hey, I bet the liquor store will have free boxes.  Fortunately (and let’s not be coy about this), I’m on a first name basis with most of the purveyors of booze in town.  And I’m older and wilier.

So now most of my books are in the basement (there may be between 120-150 boxes, all told), the old bookcases are in the garage, and my office pro-tem is in the dining room.  The cat is vexed with the disruption to her routine.  I managed to put my back out.  Mr. G. hopes not to make the journey from second floor to basement, loaded with 30lbs of books each time, for at least two weeks, when the process will be reversed.

It’s all in a good cause, this temporary exile.  New, built-in, bookcases are incoming.  New paint will be applied (hey, it needed it when we moved in, and more than a decade later…).  Books have been culled and laterally recycled in some suitable fashion, and more may be sent out into the world before the process is completed.

But for now, it’s organized mayhem.

After Malice

It’s been a while:  I apologize.  It’s all too easy to think of a conference as being “just Friday to Sunday,” but there’s prep before, travel time, re-entry…and it all adds up.  Plus there’s new and exciting mayhem at home (but more about that shortly).

To recap:  Malice is always a hoot.  There’s always so many friends to catch up (and get into trouble) with, and new folks to meet (and get into trouble with:  hi, Charlatans!).  Friend and Fellow Femme Fatale Charlaine Harris (left) was the Guest of honor and friend and Fellow Femme Fatale Toni Kelner (right) ably interviewed her in front of a packed house. 

My panel, “You’re History,” was fun because everyone on the panel had worked as a historian, researcher, archaeologist and had used their experiences in their books.  And there were great questions from the audience, which adds to any event.  In the picture are:  Moderator Sharan Newman, your humble blogger, Kate Gallison, and Sally Wright; (seated) Kathy Lynn Emerson and Aileen Baron. 

I think my favorite panel was the one where the Guest of Honor and International Guest of Honor(Charlaine and Lindsey Davis), Lifetime Achievement honoree(Peter Lovesy), and Toastmaster (Dan Stashower) were asked by Verena Rose about their fan mail and fan responses.  The fans in some of the accounts made themselves memorable by exceptionally bad or good behavior, but everyone in the audience was riveted.

And then…there was playing hooky.  Yes, I know Malice is a short conference, and there is really no time to play hooky.  Except…knowing this, it becomes both a challenge and a point of honor to do so.  So, on various occasions when I thought no one was looking, I went to the Newseum, The International Spy Museum (because I don’t have enough books), and the National Gallery (one of my favorite museums in the world; brilliant collection in a space that manages to be both grand and human-scaled).

Every school bus in the world was on the Mall, because it was school trip or school vacation time for EVERYONE.  I had to be at my most nimble to dodge them all.