Archive for March, 2007

Gastropods Break Camp

Saturday, March 31st, 2007

Wellington Leg: Nothing says spring quite like baseball and the prospect of snoozing in the bleachers during a pitching change. The Wellington Leg Gastropods are breaking camp as heavy favorites in the Steinbeck League. “Our lineup bristles with power,” said Mrs. Dalloway from the dugout steps. Your reporter spent the day mowing the outfield grass and smacking fungos. Some of the younger players haven’t mastered the art of spitting on camera but it’s not even April, the cruelest month. Here are some predictions on the season:

The earl will reach Australia in May. He and Depew bought a compass and patched a large hole in the bow. An essay on literary fame is bobbing under the Southern Cross in a bottle of Old Grandad. A Mr. Henry Dowd of Alice Springs found the bottle, drank the contents, but can’t read remember what the essay said. “It was boring if that’s at all helpful,” he said.

Umpiring Hoax: play was halted when the home plate umpire Tough Tommy announced that he was a thirty nine year old woman from Elko Nevada. Her cousin from San Francisco called balls and strikes from behind the home plate screen.  The elaborate hoax went undetected for four seasons according to Commissioner Frankie Valli.

DCI Borchardt called the incident deplorable. He asked citizens of the Leg to be on the lookout for his thesaurus, stolen from his late model Volkswagen Golf. He called the incident deplorable. “Why doesn’t he use the thesaurus online?” wondered four year old Eugenia Phaeton of Henley Hornbrook. Eugenia signed a seventy book deal last year according to Milt of Thousand Oaks. Her first draft was destroyed by Roman skirmishers during an ill-fated trip to COSTCO. Eugenia received a letter of apology from the commander of the Decima Claudia Legion. He called the incident deplorable.

Pigs in a Blanket and Box Wine

Thursday, March 29th, 2007

Lynne Scanlon, the Wicked Witch of Publishing, offers a critique of Borders New Strategy to drive sales at her blog. No, at their website: you can see the power of the dangling modifier.

Lynne is skeptical about the changes announced by Borders CEO George Jones. She notes that Jones came from Saks with a promise to revive Waldenbooks, shake up Borders marketing, make Mr. and Mrs. America and Miss America for that matter, want to shop at Borders, or Waldenbooks if one is trapped in a mal,l and has already been to Mrs. Fields.

We all know the dreadful problems gripping the publishing industry although the silver lining is we aren’t subject to product recall, just returns and remaindering ( R&R). Product recall is about product malfunction, injury, tort claims, litigation. We don’t have that. Sure we have Madonna’s nanny and Kavya and James Frey, the composite guy from San Francisco, stuff like that. Problems, certainly, but with rare exception, books perform well as products not like the soda cans on airplanes that become miniature Old Faithfuls.

Marty the Mogul can solve the industry’s problems. You may remember that Marty ruined the book business by acquiring dozens of publishers after a bitter divorce. All he wanted was his Lazy Boy: instead, he got Henry Holt. Marty proposes the following split on advances and royalties:

15% to the Literary Agent.

85% to the Publisher.

Foreign sales and dramatic rights: 20% Literary Agent, 80% to the Publisher.

What do authors receive under Marty’s plan? 100 free copies of the book they wrote, not including the manuscript. That would be 101.

An annual picnic in Fairlawn, New Jersey. This year’s event was held in February, but next year Marty’s planning on May. The snow and ice were a problem, but 400 hundred lucky authors showed up for pigs in a blanket and box wine. That beats cash any day.

Names in Crime Fiction

Wednesday, March 28th, 2007

Time for a quarterly review of crime fiction 2007. This year’s first 90 days have produced some notable releases from newcomers and veterans alike. Marcus Sakey’s debut THE BLADE ITSELF attracted a lot of ink including a pair of NYT reviews. Not to be overlooked are Killer Year compadres Sean Chercover, Sandra Ruttan, Patry Francis and Toni McGee Causey. Let’s not forget RN Morris’ A GENTLE AX or Donald E. Westlake’s WHAT’S SO FUNNY?

John Banville wrote CHRISTINE FALLS under the name Benjamin Black. Banville is the latest example of a growing trend, literary writers gentrifying the back streets of commercial fiction. This is meaningful to dedicated readers but a non-event for those baffled souls grazing the edges of the literary world looking for something to read. Your reporter is skeptical on the one hand since forays from the literati ala Lethem or Michael Chabon have produced second rate work ie MOTHERLESS BROOKLYN and THE WONDER BOYS. These guys are like a raid from the health department on your favorite Chinese place, they shut the place down for a week and there’s no Moo Shoo Pork.

Tomorrow we’ll discuss how to shop for the good stuff at your local indy bookstore. Here’s a hint: get past the New Release table as quickly as possible. Make that your last stop. Annie Bloom’s in Portland has their mysteries hidden behind a wall to the right after the cashier’s station. You can find it, I know you can.

Grotesque in Three D

Monday, March 26th, 2007

Natsuo Kirino’s novel GROTESQUE was reviewed in Newsday by Charles Taylor, the San Francisco Chronicle by David Cotner and in the Philadelphia Inquirer by this reporter. Taylor was not as favorably inclined toward the book as I was. David Cotner was positive, picking different elements to focus on, all of which indicates a healthy disparity of opinion about the novel.

GROTESQUE intimidated the hell out of me when I began to read. The style is jarring and the presentation unusual but the reward was great for sticking with it. Is it a crime novel? Probably not. David Cotner describes the narrator as suffering from “unstoppable anhedonia.” I looked it up: anhedonia is the inability to derive pleasure from normal enjoyable experiences. The author makes no attempt to blame the Office Lady Murders for the narrator’s condition, that disorder is in place long before Yuriko and Kasue die.

Ultimately though the nameless narrator seeks love in a disastrous way at the exact moment the novel ends. It’s a high risk approach by Kirino and I thought she made it work.

I’d like to see the work native to the crime genre rip some of the three act confines from within rather than from the literary edge. Natsuo Kirino began her career as a romance writer and she’s now classified as a crime writer in Japan, but she’s a daring innovative writer who will defy classification in a way that harkens back to the pre-Walmart era (1510-1998). Those were the days.

Wellington Leg Book Scandal

Saturday, March 24th, 2007

With much of towne preoccupied with Miss Snark’s contest members of the Flying Squad raided the home of Ms. Gladys Faldo, a resident of Henley Hornbrook who may have had a hand in the demise of Harry Houdini. Ms. Faldo the former lover of Marlon Brando’s personal trainer, faces an additional charge of failing to whip inflation now and making fun of Alan Greenspan. Ms. Faldo’s lurid memoir DRINKING MONEY is number one at Eddie’s Book Nook although police suspect she has manipulated Eddie’s calibrated list by harassing List Keeper Marge with repeated telephone calls during Marge’s afternoon lunch break. “She claimed she was Brando,” Marge explained. “I lost focus.”

DCI Borchardt, dressed for the weekend in Albens Rosa, seized Eddie’s Bestseller List along with “paraphenelia” used to compile the oft-cited compendium of commercial success. Book store employee L. Tolstoy was cited for illegal parking and manipulating point of view after he concealed a sharpie from Borchardt.

Ms. Faldo was born thirty years after Houdini’s death but under RICO statutes may have engaged in conspiracy after the fact but before the end of Spring Training where she briefly auditioned as the Red Sox closer. Her essay “The Cut Fastball is your Grandfather’s Slider” rattled literary scouts snoozing in the bleachers. She has reached out for defense attorney Victor Carl, a notorious Philadelphia lawyer.

DCI Borchardt hopes to airmail forensic evidence to the famous Black Lab before close of business Tuesday.  Wellington Leg is bracing for a cavalry assault by the Vecisima Claudia Legion. CSi Caruso has distributed designer sunglasses to his team and stands ready to “put things right in Wellington Leg.” Geraldo reporting for the Pie in the Sky.

Snazzy Reacher Griffins Dan Lazar’s Helicopter

Friday, March 23rd, 2007

<p> Miss Snark has opened her window for a writing contest as of 5pm eastern, Friday March 23rd. I think if you’re in Australia this is a chance to relive Friday the 23rd on this side of the dateline. Plus you’re probably worried about Fall. Word limit: 100 words and they must include the following: snazzy, Reacher, griffin, Dan Lazar, and helicopter.

Links to Miss Snark? They’re everywhere and the contest starts in 20 minutes.

Ineffiency is Underrated

Thursday, March 22nd, 2007

If you’ve ever studied economics you were taught the marketplace is efficient. This simple idea has been mangled and mauled by everyone from Leonid Breshnev ( so underrated) to Hilary Clinton, so it’s only fair that to point out that the marketplace may be efficient for publishers of books but not in our lifetime. What we tend to forget is that the marketplace is efficient if sufficient time is allowed to iron out the wrinkles. I’m talking about centuries here: after a century the logic of the book buisness emerges.

1907: Book publishing is young, not quite efficient yet. Word that San Francisco is destroyed by an earthquake in 1906 reaches New York.

1927: Plenty of froth in the Roaring Twenties. The Lost Generation is about to make the marketplace so efficient that Wall Street takes notice. Calvin Coolidge tells Herbert Hoover the secrets of governance.

1947: The Noir Era. Incredibly efficient. Cigarette me, baby.

1957: Other than Elvis all is well. Possibly a high point is reached during the Pax Americana. Europe fights to retain its colonies. California begins to look glamorous.

1967: A major hiccup as the generational baton is applied to the skulls of disenchanted youth. A few cities burn to the ground.

1977: The merger of sideburns and mustaches rekindles the spirit of the 1890s. Moms are urged to “whip inflation now” and stop speculating on oil futures.

1987: Wealth is trickling down. We knew it would.

1997: We feel the pain: someone invents Talk Radio.

2007: Marking the centenary of this analysis word reaches New York that San Francisco has been rebuilt. Efficency skyrockets thanks to book packagers. Madonna’s nanny becomes chair of Random House. Oil futures dip as moms relent. The belief is this inefficiency will correct in 2107. Time is money.

Walter Mosley’s This Year

Wednesday, March 21st, 2007

<p> Walter Mosley’s  THIS  YEAR YOU  WRITE  YOUR  NOVEL  is  out  from  Hachette. To boil down his thesis ninety days is all we need to start, finish, and revise a novel. This is no surprise to anyone who has been listening to Walter these past several years or watching his career trajectory. He is a prolific man and if he’d only written the Easy Rawlins novels his place in the firmament would be secure. DEVIL IN A BLUE DRESS, BROWN BETTY, LITTLE SCARLET are my favorites.

I wanted to mention Sarah Stewart Taylor’s STILL AS DEATH a mystery featuring Sweeney St. George her art historian who specializes in funery jewelry. This is Sarah’s latest title from SMP-Minotaur.

Next to the slim Mosley stands a mighty Ian Rankin THE NAMING OF THE DEAD. I approach Rankin with trepidation since I haven’t liked anything since FLESHMARKET CLOSE. His standalone thrillers have suffered from awkward prose, uneven pacing, abrupt endings and a general lack of confidence. He wrote THE FALLS one of the best crime fiction novels I’ve ever read. Hope springs eternal.

Podcast from the Java Sea?  Urquhart Depew hopes to podcast his interview with the earl live from Jakarta later this week. The Wellington Leg Broadcasting Company will air the interview unless something better is on. No, we will not interrupt I DREAM OF JEANNIE like the last time. That’s a promise from CSI Caruso ( okay, we do close sometimes.)

Something of a Highlight Reel

Monday, March 19th, 2007

From the Wellington Leg Archives: We’ve reproduced remarks attributed to an archivist whose apartment became a prison then a condo and  then a co-op before reprivatizing into a prison, who, by city ordnance, must remain anonymous. His blog was unearthed by archaelogists who weren’t looking for blogs at all but rather in an attempt to understand life in the Old City at the turn of the century uncovered a mural etched in the dank clay beneath the substrata depicting a pre-volcanic event believed to be associated with “writing.”

“gathering my wits I seize control of this blog in an attempt to create a human highlight reel out of which will come a clarity once thought so elusive as to be unobtainable. armed with that clarity I will convey what should have been said ages ago before the desire to blog first stirred, before cassius walmartus boxed us in, before my trivial concerns, condo, co-op, bubble, high velocity spatter first manifest…”

We do know this much: shortly before the meteor struck, Wellington Leg was ruled by Cassius W. Many of his Parking Regulations and Decrees survived the impact and subsequent confusion. “He was a human highlight reel,” noted Historian Bron Palaver. “We believe the author of the blog may have harbored a seditious inclination toward the Status Quo, born of an inability to play the bounce in Wellington Leg’s always frothy literary wars.”

Perhaps we’ll never know. The reign of Cassius W. ended abruptly in AD 2007 when a fishmonger hurled a salmon against the windshield of the emperor’s late model Volkswagen. Whether by accident or design this “fender bender” preceded a meteor strike which in turn caused Mount Veneer to bury the towne in magma. Perhaps it explains why both blogging and salmon hurling remain forbidden to this day long after the Restoration.

We hoped you’ve enjoyed this historical interlude from the Wellington Leg Archives. Tomorrow we’ll examine “likely causes of the Second Punic War” Will Hannibal Barca sack and burn Barcelona? Big H is back and he’s blogging about it.  It’s a Wellington Leg exclusive.

The Suffering. The Succotash.

Saturday, March 17th, 2007

  I’ve noticed a villainous tendency toward unblended scotch in popular fiction: those plotting to overthrow the government from within drink the good stuff while those in the field are likely to use single malt as the primary fuel in a boilermaker. PIs don’t drink anymore so it’s up to the amateur sleuths to knock back a few after discovering a corpse in the kitty litter. ( Not again, Henry. Another dead guy.)  This brings me to scenes we don’t see enough of.

A really loaded English Professor at a small but prestigious school discovers the body of his Dean riddled with bullets but he’s got Dusty Springfield on his I-pod and a bottle of single malt which he swigs and chugs while debating what to do. He passes out and the cops arrive and charge him with murder. His fingerprints are all over the tommy gun and Lord Have Mercy it wasn’t his scotch.

His attorney wanted to be a rock musician but took the bar under an assumed name, Al Capone. His band, the Capones, are embroiled in an IRS investigation while his ex-wife plots to have him killed if she can just figure his real name. She’s killed a bunch of guys named Dean in a kind of round robin elimination approach that’s drawn the attention of a fat guy in a pork pie hat. He’s trying to figure this dame out; yeah, she’s dangerous but he’s had a few boilermakers and needs studded tires for the winter.

A brilliant but troubled prosecutor is assigned the case. For the defense we have a rookie who turns to the fat guy for advice while the cops frame the professor for blowing away the dean. The judge has a five dollar bill on his forehead and a note from his doctor that says “bribe me.”

Another murder, this one during a Capones Concert, seems to exonerate the Professor but the ex-wife made his bail and the fat guy saw him buying a tommy gun from Tommy’s Haus of Guns along with forty boxes of ammo and a crate of single malt scotch. It looks bad for the Professor but a deus ex machina arrives in the form of the Goddess Athena who intervenes at the last minute. She smacks down the troubled prosecutor, gives the fat guy abs of steel and brings the dean back to life. Case closed. Time for a drink.