Fiction

Fiction

This time it was the seventh page.  It seldom takes more than ten with Michael Connelly, especially if it's Harry Bosch.  Robert Parker is even sooner, though I haven't picked a new one up in a year or so, and I'd say it worked best with Spenser.  I think Raymond Chandler could do it in a paragraph or two.  Philip Marlowe had a way of talking....  I caught a sense of that when Parker completed a story that Chandler had started, but never finished, Poodle Springs.  There are others, like John Lescroart with his Abe Glitzky/Dismas Hardy books.  It takes more than the cover with its flyleaf.  That might be enough to draw me in, but not hook me completely.

I cannot put my finger on it exactly.  Why does it happen in some books and not others?  Is it the genre?  Maybe.  I read crime drama most of the time, but I have known this feeling more than once in novels about other things.  The French Lieutenant's Woman did it, but I think it was John Fowles' prose--it just does something in a few words.

Lee Child's Jack Reacher stories do this to me quickly.  The story begins with something or someone on the move, and soon you're riding along.  Sue Grafton doesn't always do it as quickly for me, but I'm only there because Kinsey Millhone is back, and I have to keep following the alphabet.  There's only X, Y and Z remaining, but I hold out hope that Sue Grafton read Dr. Seuss's On Beyond Zebra and can use it to continue after "Z."  Laurie R. King can do it also, something about Kate Martinelli draws me.  While I always enjoy David Baldacci's work, it takes a while before I'm hooked.  Not so with Harlen Coben, he can do it in a page or two.  I'll have to spend some time just looking to see what all these have in common.  My hunch is the character is on the road somewhere or otherwise on the move, but that's not true of Robert Parker's Spenser books.  He has us sit in Spenser's office when he meets his client, then we are in.

I don't think it's suspense as to the ending either.  Today's book is early in the Harry Bosch series, and I already know whodunit because of references made in later books that take up where this one left off.

I'd like to stay and chat some more, but Michael Connelly has me in his grasp, so I'll catch up with you later.

Commencement Speeches

Commencement Speeches

A friend of mine reminded me this is the season for the above-mentioned offerings, so I thought I'd offer my own point of view.  It might be age, but I'm not sure that's why I remember not a single thought from any that I heard.  I think it's more like what I've said below:

COMMENCEMENT

I can see them all a-coming

And whatever they are drumming

I'm sure they’ll need a rewrite. 

Don’t offer all those sermons

As bland as first-year German

just douse me with June sunlight.

Along with its most cooling breeze.

Too many times I’ve failed to seize

The day—it’s no surprise.

If you can’t help, I’ll get some dogs

Who’ll make me don some running togs

to see each day’s sunrise.

Either way’s OK,

Just fill my day

With all June’s sun and breezes,

And, if you can, protect me from 

the speech-induced brain freezes.

Seller's Remorse

Seller's Remorse

I sold my last house finally
rented a P. O. Box instead,
then gave up that old phone number.

A free man again, but still there's
that loaded storage unit
with a payment and a lease

am I footloose, on the lam
or something else again?

on the lam's escaping,
footloose is really free.
Can I just have neither, please?
I'd rather have a home,

not on the lam--escaping,
fleeing; footloose--still
free to go and travel, not
confined but not just empty
like it feels to me tonight.

THE MORNING NEWS

The Morning News

I only sit and watch it

When alone, with no one there,

Excepting turtles,

And the birds, the occasional

Alligator, but

I’m sure no one else is there,

Are you?

It’s not really sunrise, but

It is the sun and it is

Rising.  But never

In the East.  The sun rolls up

It lights each tree, but not like

Christmas, with bulbs and blinking.

The branches bloom with light 

like the wall

In your bedroom when the shade

is rolled up slowly

The sun’s light sweeps up your wall…

You watch it taking over, but

My wall is made of trees,

Many hundred feet away.

When the sun clears the treetops

I have moved on.  Making coffee,

Opening blinds, reading e-mail,

Mostly it’s ads and news,

Now and then a glowing one

With human thoughts from a world

Begun anew, another person.

Really. 

My Stress Score is Only 266, but I'm Working On It

My Stress Score is Only 266, But I'm Working On It

Stressors, the way I see it, are plentiful.  When I recently took the test to determine my stress score, my result did not shock me.  The surprise was that there are only forty-three stressors on the Holmes-Rahe Social Readjustment Rating Scale that forms the basis for scoring your stress.  My sense is the famous research studies were way too limited.  My score is only 266 today, which is a solid medium.  But I am thinking I may run short of stressors.  After all, I am retired, and the points I took for that totaled 45, but those points will fall off after I am retired for twelve months.  

As I say, if you go looking for stress, you can find it anywhere.  There's my broken shoelaces, narrow parking spaces, slow drivers, dumpster divers, cell phone callers out of range, traffic lights that never change, paper or plastic, all my waistbands are elastic, robo-calls, slips and falls, annoying political ads, my grandkids wanting iPads, not enough gentle rain, caught again by the train, texting while driving, house guests arriving, drivers talking on their phones, irritating ring tones, mini-cams, paper jams, taxes, and faxes.  

Pick up the paper or tune in to the TV News and you can find a generous source--tornadoes, school shootings, terrorist bombings, here and abroad, starving children, civil war in Syria (C'mon, when is war civil?), Iraq attacks, Afghan suicide bombings, ricin scares, landslides, drone strikes, hackers, identity theft, CEO's compensation, IRS being used for political purposes (perish the thought!), hurricane season, unemployment, slow growth-no growth, euros,   Little wonder another of my friends reported recently she had given up watching TV.  

I remember a song recorded by the Temptations called "Ball of Confusion."  It had a fine list of stressors--I counted thirty-four of them.  "People movin' out, People movin' in... Segregation, determination, demonstration, Integration, aggravation, humiliation, obligation to our nation... the sale of pills are at an all time high, young folks walk around with their heads in the sky, cities aflame in the summer time... air pollution, revolution, gun control, shootin' rockets to the moon, kids growin' up too soon... politicians say more taxes will solve everything ... unemployment rising fast... eve of destruction, tax deduction, City inspectors, bill collectors, population out of hand... suicide, too many bills, hippies movin' to the hills, gun control, sound of soul, shooting rockets to the moon, kids growing up too soon... the only person talkin' 'bout love thy brother is the preacher, and it seems, nobody is interested in learnin' but the teacher...."  

Looking at it now, I think this medium stress score of 266 is just about right.  Just in case I start to run short, I have just sold my house.  This will reduce my score by 31 points for no  longer having a mortgage, avoid completely the risk of the 30 points I could have incurred if I had faced foreclosure.  However, I am adding 20 points for changing my residence, and in all likelihood I will add back those 31 points by buying something else that has a mortgage.  Hmm, not having a yard to take care of will likely change my recreational habits (adds 19 points).  Looking back at those elastic waistbands, I will probably diet for a few weeks so I can fit into my suit for a couple of summer weddings (suit has no elastic waistband).  This change in eating habits will cost me an additional 15 points.  For those of you keeping score, I have no idea what my score will be in another thirty days.  I may not have to borrow any stressors, though..... 

As The Temptations put it "...and the band plays on." 

Invoking The Muses--Now it's Up to Poetry

Invoking The Muses--Now it's Up to Poetry

Not long ago, I was counseled to continue to listen to my muse and explore my authentic self.  In Billy Collins' unforgettable piece on Forgetfulness, he mentioned he has now forgotten the names of the Nine Muses, along with the address of an uncle and the capital of Paraguay.  He apparently either lacks access to Google, or fails to accept that using Google is merely a more sophisticated way of accessing "our" memory (as I do--and why not?).  

Googling something is like looking it up in your memory bank, only your memory bank is collected and collective with just about every data source on the planet. Yes, I said collected [brought or placed together; forming an aggregation from various sources: the money collected to build an orphanage; the collected essays of Thoreau.] and collective [of or characteristic of a group of individuals taken together: thecollective wishes of the membership.].  Google was aggregated, using the memories of all of us taken together.  So, the end result of that is indeed "our" memory.

So, I googled the nine muses and "remembered" they are the nine daughters of Zeus--Clio, Euterpe, Thalia, Melpomeni, Terpsichore, Erato, Polymnia, Ourania and Calliope.  In writing, one must appeal to the muses appropriate to the art one is pursuing.  Just to cover all the bases in case, I must invoke Thalia, Melpomene, Erato and Polymnia.  

Thalia, because Thalia was the protector of comedy.  Melpomene, as she was opposite from Thalia, Muse Melpomene was the protector of Tragedy.  Erato, since Muse Erato was the protector of Love and Love Poetry.  Finally, Polymnia: Muse Polymnia was the protector of among other things, grammar. 

Thus, my invocation opens the far-ranging territories of comedy, tragedy, poetry and, of course, grammar (forget about it, spelling and grammar check!).  So, why am I still sitting here without any inspiration?  Is it the fact that I am not being faithful to a solitary muse?  

If it was up to me at this instant, I guess it would be the muse of poetry, Erato (Hold still for just a second, it's not the Eros part of it, it's the poetry!).  Poetry, I am told, is the means for sorting things out. There is always someplace deeper, more profound, and more real to explore, and poetry will get us there.  Hard to know sitting here, and google doesn't have a clue what is deeper, more profound and real within us--at least me, anyway.  And I. for one, am glad you can't google me.  So, it's up to poetry.         

Lost in Phonics Land, Letters Who Live By The Rules

Lost in Phonics Land, Letters Who Live By The Rules

Cast of Characters:
The Vowels                                         And A Few Consonants
"A"-Albert                                                "C"-Calvin, or Cindy
"E"-Ellen                                                  "K"-Kim
"I"-Irene                                                   "Q"-Quincy, and
"O"-Ophelia,                                            "W"-Walter
"U"-Uma, and
"Y"-Yuri

The Story is known only in fragments, like some ancient myth:

Vowels may seem like a suspicious sort, but their surroundings tell them something important--whether their appearance will be short or long.  Let's look at the case of a well-known vowel called Albert.  As Albert the vowel goes wandering, he always looks closely at the nearest consonants.  Are they following him?  Are they being followed, too?  If a consonant is following Albert, he knows his appearance might be short, and he can be certain if the consonant comes after him alone. (e.g., fat, can, man, hat, etc.)

If someone looking like a vowel is heard following that consonant, the outcome will be the same.  But, if the vowel following the consonant is doing it silently, Albert (or any other vowel in his place) will be long. (e.g., late, fate, care, tale, tame, cute, white, rite, note, pole, mule, mute, complete)

If that first consonant was not alone, but had another consonant with him, Albert's appearance would likely to be short as well (e.g., rant, slant, laps, traps, past, sand, bend, bond, .

If Albert were out walking with another vowel, call her Ellen, there would not be much conversation.  Albert (the first vowel) would be long, but Ellen, (the second vowel) would be silent.  The same thing would happen to any other pair of vowels--If two vowels go walking, the first does all the talking.

Some consonants have a special effect on vowels.  Take r for instance.  If r follows a vowel, special things happen.  Ellen, Irene and Uma become just alike.  They all make the same sound, like a rooster (Er, er, er, errrr!).  If r follows Orville, he will be long (as in Oh!).  If r follows Albert, he will only go a short way (as in star, bar, car, tar, etc.).

Walter and Uma cast a spell on Ophelia--making her sound hurt, like when you get pinched  (ow!) unless there is an e tagging along after the w.  If Irene or Yuri follow Ophelia, she always sounds slippery just like oil.

The consonants have rules as well.  Take the consonants Calvin and Kim, their sound is hard much of the time, but mostly when they were being followed around by the vowels Albert, Ophelia or Ulysses.  If Calvin were followed by Irene or Ellen, he'd sound more sibilant (like Cindy).  Not so with Kim,    he (or she) would always sound the same.

A funny thing about consonants--if they were identical twins, they would always sound the same, as if speaking with one voice.  (ss, dd, tt, rr, ff, hh, kk, ll, mm, nn, pp, xx, zz.  Twin g's or c's will never behave like other identicals, and j's, v's and w's are not known to have twins at all.

Quincy and Uma have gone together for so long, we think they got married.  They almost always sound the same when they are together (like kw-quite, quaint, quiet, quit, quad).

Ah, but there are a few things amiss here.  Not all the letters follow all the rules.  It can't be helped, they're just like their source you know, the mouths of humans don't only utter truth.

Revisiting Remarkable

Revisiting Remarkable

Remarkable: notably or conspicuously unusual; extraordinary, worthy of notice or attention.

What do you remark on?  Do you have an internal conversation for traffic in these remarks?  Or are you sharing those remarks with people?   If you’re not remarking aloud to another person, is it really remarkable?  If you’re the kind of person who talks to your dog or cat, does something you remark to your dog about meet the test of really being “remarkable?” Probably not, you say?  I guess if your dog replies that would be remarkable, unless there were no humans for you to tell about it, then

It wouldn’t be.  As I sit alone at this keyboard, I’m guessing this piece will become a remark, or a collection thereof, once someone reads it (please). 

Why do we notice things that others do not?  Are there things we see every day that we suddenly find remarkable?  Is it perspective? 

Is it mood?  If it is, which moods see life as more remarkable? Some Australian market researchers concluded that people in better moods due to the program they were watching were more positively disposed toward products being advertised, but I think that’s a little too obscure to give moods any credit here.  I will say this, when you are feeling put upon and maybe a bit sorry for yourself, you may just be overlooking some pretty remarkable stuff.  Instead of shutting down like a grump, take a look around.  See what’s around you on this “gas covered planet going around a nuclear fireball 90 million miles away (which we believe) to be normal…” (Douglas Adams The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy). 

Things I’m finding remarkable this morning: Spanish moss reshaping the trees behind my house; the rising sun lighting up the wall of trees bordering the golf course across the lagoon from my house; the near-absolute absence of movement in this scene as no breeze sidles up to make its presence felt, and my apparent ability to call forth said breeze by noticing its absence; the steady hum of life going around outside, heard from a silent house.  Oh leave me here a while to sit and watch.