Hipster Death Rattle: Book Review and Conversation with Richie Narvaez

For this installment of Fiction Favorites and Awesome Authors, I’m delighted to welcome author Richie Narvaez to VBlog for a conversation about his recently released debut novel.

Hipster Death Rattle

The title alone piques your interest, doesn’t it? And how about that cover art by JT Lindroos? Very eye catching. But more important: This is a debut novel not to miss.

If you like crime fiction and want something different and unique, this is for you, especially if you live, or have ever lived, in New York City. To avoid spoilers, I won’t give away any more of the plot than what’s in the publisher’s blurb:

Murder is trending. Hipsters are getting slashed to pieces in the hippest neighborhood in New York City: Williamsburg, Brooklyn. While Detectives Petrosino and Hadid hound local gangbangers, slacker reporter Tony Moran and his ex-girlfriend Magaly Fernandez get caught up in a missing person’s case—one that might just get them hacked to death.

Filled with a cast of colorful characters and told with sardonic wit, this fast-moving, intricately plotted novel plays out against a backdrop of rapid gentrification, skyrocketing rents, and class tension. New Yorkers and anyone fascinated with the city will love the story’s details, written like only a true native could. Entertaining to the last, this rollicking debut is sure to make Richie Narvaez a rising star on the mystery scene.

At the Mysterious Bookshop

I was fortunate to attend the launch party for Hipster at the Mysterious Bookshop in Manhattan, where the author treated us to a reading of the first few pages. His lively and vivid writing was made even more so by his spot-on delivery and timing. Let’s hope that an audio book narrated by Narvaez himself is in the future.

The novel features a large cast of characters, people from all walks of life and many ethnicities. From a lesser author this might pose a problem, but Narvaez has a knack for making his characters memorable. They come alive on the page through quirky physical traits, dialogue and actions, details about where they live, what they eat, what stores they patronize, and the pets they own. In one scene, for example, a seven-month pregnant thirtysomething yuppie named Erin and her husband Steven (for whom she has endless cutesy nicknames such as “Stevely,” “McSteven,” and “Steve-o-rini”), dine at a new Burundian restaurant in Williamsburg and, slightly nauseated from the Burundian bananas and beans, return to their condo in an upscale, glittering glass tower with river view, where Erin smartly thanks her Mexican doorman with a “Gracias,” confident in the perfection of her Spanish accent because she actually once had a Mexican friend in Texas who complimented her on it. I was laughing.

As you may guess from the book blurb, there are, indeed, machete slashings in Hipster, but if excessive gore gives you nightmares (as it does for me), rest assured that the bloody details are kept to a relaxing minimum, leaving the reader to use his or her imagination, as desired. In the context of the murder mystery and police investigation, social commentary about gentrification and ethnic tensions is expertly woven into the plot in a non-preachy, entertaining way. The author gives us, for example, the dying thoughts of some of the victims, which invariably include emotion-laden regrets about the imagined fate of their apartments after they die. It’s hilarious, but at the same time, a statement about the universal preoccupation of New Yorkers with housing and real estate.

And now, I’m pleased to say that the author has graciously agreed to answer some of my burning questions.

Welcome to VBlog, Richie. I thoroughly enjoyed Hipster Death Rattle. Social commentary figures prominently in your novel, enhancing, never detracting from, the story line and characters. What led you to incorporate this theme into a murder mystery as opposed to, say, a literary or mainstream novel, and what do you see as the advantages of this format?

Ah, well, I did originally try to write Hipster as a mainstream book, but it was too close to me and I stumbled. I couldn’t get past my own bitterness about gentrification in Williamsburg, and all the characters were just talking points, not people. I needed a plot to anchor my pain and my ideas.

And that’s the thing about genre writing isn’t it, the thing that drives literary or mainstream snobs mad: it’s got plot! I could’ve done this as a horror or sci fi novel, but crime fiction is the most grounded of the so-called genres, and I wanted this story to have literal resonance, not metaphorical. And crime fiction is a very flexible format—flexible as a dancer! You ignite the story with the mystery, and the process of its being solved allows the protagonists and the reader to encounter people and points of view.

Of course some readers would prefer to have their corpses served without a side of social commentary, so I may lose those readers. But many of the greats—Christie, Chandler, Highsmith, Paretsky—have social commentary in their works. Crime fiction is actually a perfect vehicle for social commentary.

I knew there was a reason I keep dancing—to make my crime fiction better! As for the flexibility of the genre…maybe this book was therapy or vicarious payback for you? (“Lolz,” as your character Gabrielle likes to say.) “No one there is who loves a hipster,” whispers the murderer as he comes upon his next victim. How much of this is personal for you, based on your experience, witnessing the gradual transformation of the neighborhood of your youth?

It’s all very personal. I was born in Greenpoint Hospital and raised in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. I went away for college, but then returned to witness the rise of gentrification. Slowly, gradually, I saw people displaced, many of my friends and relatives, and I saw the disrespect and erasure of the culture of the people who had lived there for so long.

To be clear, gentrification is not a natural process. Yes, neighborhoods change hands all the time, but gentrification is different, it’s insidiously manufactured, a combination of real estate developer and governmental cunning, urban renewal for profit, not for people.

I’m not sure how much payback there is in writing the book. The Powers that Be would likely not take notice, and they will likely never be punished for their greed. But, therapy, yes, a little. Although the pain does not go away completely. It just feels better for a little while.

Carpe diem, Richie. My Latin is a little rusty, but…

Hah! Habeas corpus and obiter dictum!

Touché! Yes, we lawyers tend to sprinkle in the Latin and forget that it isn’t English. But I did learn some new non-legal Latin from your book. I like the way you worked it into the dialogue between Chino and his former college professor and bad guy, Litvinchouk. We understand most of it in context, and it adds a lot of humor to their relationship. How did this idea come about?

The Latin thing came ab initio from the fact that the person I partially based the character of Chino on actually did minor in Latin in college. So at first it was just a neat character detail, and it allowed me to spend hours learning some very basic Latin myself. But then I realized it added some irony. People hate hipsters for being snobby. Yet, here is a main character who holds on to and cusses in a dead tongue, a language darling to the elite and the intellectual. Also, Chino is a Latino who can speak Latin but not Spanish, underlining his separation from his own culture, Othering him to underscore his status as another kind of hipster himself.

What are your tips for writers who want to incorporate irony and humor into their writing? Or does this just come naturally to you and woe to us?

I have to say the humor seems to come fairly naturally for me. A genetic quirk. Or the legacy of a sensitive childhood. Although, I have to say, in the first draft of Hipster there was no humor. I was trying to be a serious crime writer and write seriously about a serious subject. But I realized I wasn’t very satisfied with that, and it kind of bored me. So I went back and added in the funny.

Now, it’s difficult to tell someone how to be funny and ironic. Not taking yourself too seriously is key. And I will say the chief tool to use is surprise. Humor and irony come out of the unexpected. So, as you’re writing along, stop and think about what everyone expects will happen or be said next, and then do the opposite or at least sideways, something silly and/or something that resonates with the theme of what you’re trying to say. In any case, don’t give the readers what they expect.

Good advice for writers, but I won’t allow you to thwart something I’m expecting from you: more great writing. What’s next? What’s on your computer screen these days?

Littering my desktop are several short stories in various stages as well as a novel, but that seems to be a permanent state of affairs for me. At the moment I’ve got a YA novel making the publisher rounds. And there’s a second book of short stories, to follow Roachkiller and Other Stories, I hope to have out next year.

Best of luck on all these endeavors, Richie. I look forward to reading your next book.

Dear Readers,

You can get Hipster Death Rattle from Down and Out Books (see also links to booksellers on the Down and Out Books site), and at the Mysterious Bookshop.

After reading Hipster, if you’re looking for more good summer reading, I’ve built up quite an archive of book reviews and author Q & As. Click the VBlog tab, and then, on the sidebar, “Fiction Favorites and Awesome Authors” or “Legal Eagles” (my series on attorneys writing fiction). You will find articles on books by all of these amazing authors and more: Kevin Egan, Nancy Bilyeau, Manuel Ramos, Allison Leotta, Adam Mitzner, Kate Robinson, David Hicks, Helen Simonson, Eowyn Ivey, William Burton McCormick, and Allen Eskens.

Happy reading!

Ordinary Life: Book Review

Dust of the Universe by V.S. KemanisOne of my readers gave me Ordinary Life: Stories, by Elizabeth Berg, and mentioned that the themes in the book reminded her of my collection Dust of the Universe, tales of family. I’m so thankful for this gift.

Each story in this collection reflects exactly what the title says, ordinary life. So simple, yet so deep, these stories touch on the exquisite moments we all experience and can relate to. Elizabeth Berg reawakens us to the small things that make us human, make life worth living. She reminds us to be grateful for the routine and commonplace events that give us comfort, delight, and yes, magic.

The opening and closing stories in this collection are perfect bookends Ordinary Life: Storiesto the theme. In the opening piece, “Ordinary Life: A Love Story,” a woman of 79 takes a week-long timeout from her husband to reflect on her life. The memories and images of people, possessions, and family milestones tumble out in a free flow of association. At this stage of her life, she wonders where the time went and what’s next. “How could she have known that ordinary life would have such allure later on?”

The closing story, “Today’s Special,” is about how good it feels to eat in a diner. Is there anything more mundane? It’s an extraordinary piece of writing! The author tells us in the afterword that this is one of her earliest stories, a reflection on what she might tell a friend who is suffering from depression. It’s a wonderful description of the comfort food and the people in the diner, along with a list of other everyday images, ending with this: “Isn’t it those small things that add the necessary shape and meaning to our lives? And don’t we miss seeing them if we look too hard for big things?”

Many of the relationships in these stories have suffered a gradual erosion from the tedium of everyday life. This is something we all struggle with. Underlying the weight of years is the yearning for something BIG, the revelation of a grand plan. Habits and patterns of behavior become ingrained and hurtful to others. “We all return to what’s familiar to us… Even if it’s not so wonderful, it’s what we know,” a man tells his wife, who struggles with the anger she feels toward her emotionally distant, verbally abusive father. (I love the name of that story: “One Time at Christmas, in my Sister’s Bathroom”!)

The story that really hit me was “Take this Quiz.” It concludes with a metaphor that’s a bit too obvious, but its placement at the end and the truth it reveals runs deep. The implicit message is clear and applies to every relationship, whether casual or intimate: Once the words are out of your mouth, it’s too late to take them back.

Each story is a compact little gem with a lesson to learn or a nugget for inner reflection. The stories move toward something. In their struggles with interpersonal relationships, Berg’s characters always make a transition toward self-knowledge, acceptance, or revelation.

Dear Short Story Lovers: I highly recommend Ordinary Life.

And V.S. Kemanis at KGB Barspeaking of short stories, here I am at the iconic KGB Bar in Manhattan last month, reading my short story “Times Square Tail” from Malocclusion, tales of misdemeanor. What a fun night!

Malocclusion, tales of misdemeanor

 

 

 

 

 

Stay tuned for more great news about my short stories: cover reveal for a collection of selected stories, and new stories accepted for magazine and anthology publications!

 

7 Stories in 7 Sentences: Crime Fiction Review

Time is tight. Consider reserving a bit of it to feed your imagination and creativity. A story a day! Have a complete experience in half an hour, give or take. Be entertained, enlightened, intellectually stimulated. Drawn into another world.

You’ll find eighteen outstanding stories in the July/August 2018 issue of Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. (And what a great cover image by Brian Stauffer!) These talented authors, within the space of a few pages, will immerse you in the lives of their characters with their mind-bending dilemmas, relatable motives and desires. I’ve chosen seven of the stories here and offer one sentence on each. Shorts on shorts—no spoilers!

Mahadevi, by Jane Haddam

Hinduism and philosophical reflections on the nature of good and evil, the spiritual and material, distinguish this compulsively readable tale of sibling rivalry and familial discord.

Edgewise, by Louisa Luna

In this atmospheric story, the author’s laconic style and insight into human behavior subtly draws you into the essence of two lives, white and black, capturing their respective experiences of revenge, race relations, and policing.

English 398: Fiction Workshop, by Art Taylor

This multiple award-winning author successfully experiments with a non-linear structure, interwoven points of view, and a bit of valuable pedagogy in this humorous crime tale, a unique twist on a familiar aspect of college campus life.

The Mercy of Thaddeus Burke, by David Dean

Master storyteller David Dean makes you feel for his Irish mobster characters in their conflict over a generational changing of the guard, leaving you to ponder questions of competing loyalties.

The Professor, by Janice Law

There’s nothing obvious about this cleverly plotted, tightly written tale of deception and just deserts.

Hotel Story, by Sigrid Nunez

A reflective piece of flash fiction, the story taps a personal mystery each of us has experienced at one time in life.

Last Call, by Gemma Clarke

In “The Department of First Stories” of the magazine, this fiction debut impresses with its imaginative criminal design of stealth.

So, dive in and have fun! In addition to these stories, the issue includes stories by John H. Dirckx, Timothy O’Leary, Peter Turnbull, Marvin Kaye, Jane Jakeman, William Dylan Powell, Peter Lovesey, Thomas K. Carpenter, Amy Myers, François Bloemhof, and Alaric Hunt.

For more stories, check out my collection Love and Crime. Two of the eleven stories were first published in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine.

Legal Eagles, Attorneys Writing Fiction (4): Kevin Egan

Midnight by Kevin Egan

I’m pleased to welcome author Kevin Egan to VBlog for this installment of Legal Eagles. I first met Kevin a few years ago at a meeting of the Mystery Writers of America, New York chapter. We soon discovered a few things we have in common. Not only are we attorneys who write crime fiction, we also have years of experience working for New York courts and judges. We know what it’s like to juggle a demanding legal career with a passion for fiction writing, squeezing the current work-in-progress into the cracks at either end of the workday and on weekends.

In our careers, we’ve both held positions as judicial law clerks. Don’t be fooled by the word “clerk.” This position is held by an attorney who works closely with a judge in a confidential capacity. While the degree of authority delegated to the law clerk varies from judge to judge, many law clerks exert considerable influence over the court’s decisions.

When Kevin explained the premise for his novel Midnight, I had to read it! The unique plot is built around the relationship between a law clerk and his judge in a setting I know very well, the courthouses in lower Manhattan. Unlike many crime novels, Midnight opens not with a murder but with the judge’s death from natural causes, which serves as the catalyst for a series of progressively serious crimes.

You won’t anticipate the many twists and turns in the domino spiral, set in motion by the slowly unfolding secrets of the characters and their conflicting motivations. Tom, the judge’s law clerk, is in debt to a loan shark and feels no serious ethical qualms in rewriting the judge’s opinions to buy his way out of trouble. Carol, the judge’s secretary, carries the financial and emotional weight of caring for her son and her mother while harboring secrets of past sexual affairs. A couple of court officers are anxiously awaiting the judge’s decision in a lawsuit that could abolish their overtime pay. Add to these characters the loan shark’s collection thug, a corrupt union boss, and a brutal mobster, and the resulting web of criminal intrigue spins out of control.

Fans of noir and legal thriller will thoroughly enjoy this compulsively readable tale of desperation and consequence. Legal details are deftly woven into the plot in a way that is easily understood without sacrificing accuracy. Midnight was a Kirkus Best Book of 2013 and is the first of three novels to feature the character Foxx, one of the court officers in the tale. You bet, I’ve put the next two novels on my “to-read” list! They are The Missing Piece (2015), and A Shattered Circle (2017), which received the coveted starred review from Publishers Weekly.

Welcome to VBlog, Kevin! I really enjoyed Midnight. How did you come up with your idea for this novel?

A law clerk and confidential secretary—the standard judicial staff in New York state courts—are personal appointments, which gives the judge free rein to hire and fire without an agency like the EEOC stepping in. However, if a judge dies or retires mid-term, an actual law—Judiciary Law § 36—determines the employment fate of the judge’s staff. It may be an oversimplification, but in dramatic terms, if the judge dies or retires, the staff keep their jobs until the end of that calendar year. So Midnight starts with a premise—what is the worst day of the year for a judge to die? Answer: New Year’s Eve. Tom and Carol’s plan to save their jobs for another year is simple enough: remove the judge’s body from chambers, place him in his bed in his apartment, then begin to “worry” about his failure to return to work until mid-day on January 2. But the plan turns out to be anything but simple.

Do you tend to write an outline first or just take the idea and run with it?

I have published 8 novels, and 7 of them have been written in the “take the idea and run with it” method. The lone exception is Midnight. Midnight first appeared as a short story in the January 2010 issue of Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. By that point, I was already working on expanding the premise into a novel. It was the only time I created a full outline, which I then followed with only minor deviations. The structure was rigid. It was to cover a period of four days, from December 31 to January 3. Each day presented a problem that Tom and Carol seemingly overcame by nightfall, only to have a more serious problem arise the next day.

Tell us a bit about works by K.J. Egan and Conor Daly. What went into your decision to use pseudonyms? Do you have any advice for writers on this subject?

My first book was a science fiction novel called The Perseus Breed. I started writing a sequel, but then switched to writing what would become a three-book golf mystery series. My agent insisted that I needed a pen name for the mysteries because, in her words, bookstores don’t want the same author on different shelves. And so Conor Daly was born. Having a pen name seemed problematic at the time, though I can’t recall any specifics other than a reader who persisted in writing letters to me as Conan Doyle.

Twelve years intervened between the last Conor Daly book and Where It Lies. By then, I decided to nudge my pen name closer to my real name. There also was a strategy. Since Where It Lies featured a first-person female narrator, I wanted a gender-neutral name on the cover. Using my initials filled that bill.

As for advice, I’ve come to believe that a pen name is a necessary evil. Publishers are much less patient with poor sales, and sales figures now hang onto an author like Jacob Marley’s chains. A pen name can offer a fresh start.

What’s next for you? Is another novel in the works?

I also write short stories. “The Movie Lover,” appearing in the July/August issue of AHMM will be my 26th published short story. I started this year on a short story tear, writing three in the month of January. As for novels, remember that science fiction novel I put down to become Conor Daly? I’ve returned to it.

Thank you for joining me on VBlog, Kevin!

Dear Reader, do you love legal thrillers? Pick up one of Kevin Egan’s books! Also, check out the other entries in the Legal Eagles series on VBlog to learn more about these attorneys who write crime fiction: Manuel Ramos, Allison Leotta, Allen Eskens, Adam Mitzner, Jerri Blair, Brian Clary, and of course, Yours Truly.

The Summer Before the War: Book Review and Conversation with Helen Simonson

For this installment of Fiction Favorites and Awesome Authors I share with you an outstanding read by the bestselling author of Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, Helen Simonson.

Her second novel, The Summer Before the War, set in the idyllic English town of Rye in 1914, is beautifully written and meticulously researched. Much of the tale is a social comedy of manners, an insightful, if subtle, exploration of gender and class, full of wit, humorous dialogue, and masterful characterization. The traditions and biases of the upper middle-class are juxtaposed tellingly against those of the servant classes, Gypsies, a spinster schoolteacher, and impoverished war refugees from Belgium.

In 1914, gender equality is advancing in baby steps. Simonson aptly illustrates the status of women with several well-drawn characters, most prominently Agatha Kent and Beatrice Nash. The indomitable Agatha, married to a well-respected civil servant, is one of two women on the local school board. She takes the revolutionary step of seeking the board’s approval to hire a woman, Beatrice Nash, as Latin instructor. Beatrice is an independent woman in her early twenties, nearly penniless after her father’s death, unable to make ends meet on a meager inheritance controlled by patronizing trustees. The teacher position is bread and butter to Beatrice, but this reality clashes with Agatha’s tenuous position in recommending her. Agatha warns, “let’s not mention any such awkward necessity” as money when seeking board approval—better to emphasize “teaching as a service rather than a profession.”

Another “awkward” subject is Beatrice’s desire to become a published writer. Agatha tells her to keep this yearning under wraps because it would be “an absolute disaster for a lady in your position to earn a reputation as a bohemian.” Beatrice has no trouble following this advice the first time she’s introduced to Mr. Tillingham, a renowned novelist in Agatha’s social circle. When the subject of female writers comes up, the arrogant and pompous author says he has received “several slightly hysterical requests to read such charming manuscripts” and “would rather cut off my right hand” than read them. He gives the manuscripts to his secretary “to compose her own diplomatic replies and to consign the offending pages to the kitchen stove.” Later on, a publisher sends Beatrice a condescending missive, rejecting her proposal to publish an analysis of her father’s work. Ironically, the publisher has decided to commission Mr. Tillingham for the project!

Agatha is childless but is close to her two nephews, Hugh Grange, a young surgeon, and Daniel Bookham, a poet. Growing up, the cousins spent summers and school holidays in the Kent household. Their chosen professions foreshadow later events during the war. In these characters, we see the personal turmoil wrought by social convention and judgment: in Daniel’s case, discrimination against homosexuality, and in both characters, the pressure to forge marital unions based on class and status rather than love and compatibility. The relationships between the cousins and with their Aunt Agatha are the highlights of the novel, believable and emotionally compelling.

In the first part of the novel, the townspeople live in polite denial of impending war, as hints and irony foreshadow tragic events on the horizon. When spoken of, the war is romanticized as a great adventure. The son of a nobleman joins the Royal Flying Corps because he doesn’t want to enlist in “an ordinary war” and thinks that flying airplanes is “damned good fun!” To complete his image, he shops at Burberry’s because “they do a very good aviator helmet with goggles.” Marriageable young women launch a recruitment brigade, shaming any reluctant young man into enlisting by handing him a white feather (symbol of cowardice), along with a subtle bit of sexual bribery: no offer of marriage will be accepted unless the man is marching off to war. For a proper sendoff, the town hosts a parade with a brass band, displays “model trenches” on the fairgrounds, and tops it off with a grand ball.

The last part of the novel takes us to the front, into the real trenches and a battleground hospital. A strength of the narrative lies in the gradual loss of innocence of the main characters, the contrast between the naivety of their grandiose expressions of patriotism and the tragic reality they ultimately experience. The novel also touches on divided loyalties of family and nationality when the German husband of a British woman is called home for military service. This is an intriguing theme that is so wonderfully explored in William Burton McCormick’s book, Lenin’s Harem, which I reviewed here on VBlog.

Fans of historical fiction are sure to love Simonson’s sweeping novel full of colorful characters, scintillating dialogue, and insightful exploration of relationships during an era of great social change. In this video [click here], the author aptly sums up the major theme: the book is ultimately about “what you think is important to build in your lives, what remains when everything is falling apart, and more specifically, what is destroyed by war and what is burnished in the fire.”

And now, I welcome Helen Simonson to VBlog. Thank you for joining me, Helen! I loved The Summer Before the War, and Major Pettigrew is now on my ‘to-read’ list.

From a writer’s perspective, I have a few questions I’m dying to ask you, especially because our writing processes are apparently so different. In your videotaped presentation, you mentioned, “I don’t write what I know—I write to ask questions and explore them and hope to find some answers for myself.” The historical setting for your characters required painstaking research, yet an intuitive knowledge of human nature and social interaction underlies your characterizations. Do you feel that you write what you “know” on an emotional or personal level?

I try to write about the characters in my head and they seem to be real people to me.  What is funny is that on an emotional level I can see that I am using my characters to work out things that puzzle me about the world and about how we treat each other. Social comedy as moral philosophy?  I do also have great fun slipping in small personal details—like my grandfather’s name or a house I’d like to own in Sussex—but I am not writing autobiographically. I think books are wonderful because they allow us to travel to places we cannot go.  Writing a book is no different; every page is a new adventure for me.

You also mentioned that you don’t write an outline of the story first but create the characters and let them lead you where they want to go. Did you have a broad sense of the plot when you started out, or was this story a complete adventure of discovery along the way?

Simply following the characters around is a frightening way to write a work as long as a novel.  But now I’m in the midst of a third novel I have no idea where I’m going—again!  With The Summer Before the War, I knew World War I was coming but I did not know how we were going to go there.  It was a great relief to realize my surgeon, Hugh, would go and I could simply follow him to the hospitals and trenches of the Western Front.  I don’t recommend my way of writing but it forces one to noodle about, leaving room for literary themes to arise and be explored.  If I had a plot outline I’m afraid I might rush along too fast.

I wonder if you can place yourself in Beatrice’s shoes and imagine what it might have been like to face the prejudice against female writers, as depicted by the character Mr. Tillingham and the publisher that rejected her project. Given your evident talent and love of writing, do you think you would have been daunted in such an environment or would have persevered?

The more I wrote about Beatrice the more I wondered if we have really come as far as we thought in terms of women being free and equal.  The pay gap and the #metoo movement suggest we are still fighting for basic respect.  I would have been daunted then and I’m still daunted now.  No writer I know has escaped rejection, and since writing is an act of great vulnerability it can be very painful.  It was not hard to imagine Beatrice’s hurt.  Just the term ‘female writer’ carries its own put-down.  I was thrilled to discover, in taking intermediate French conversation lessons recently, that the French word for writer doesn’t carry a pronoun.  There is no ‘le’ or ‘la’ so in French I am fully a writer—Je suis écrivain.  It feels good!

And it feels good to read your work! Thank you for this insight into your writing, Helen. We look forward to your next novel!

White Plains: Book Review and Conversation with Author David Hicks

“When it comes right down to it, I’ve decided, almost every relationship involves two people with intense insecurities masked by whatever behavior it takes to keep those insecurities from being exposed, while at the same time revealing their equally desperate need to have them exposed, even embraced.” – from White Plains

White Plains by David HicksI’m pleased to welcome David Hicks to VBlog for this installment of Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors. His debut novel White Plains is the story of a young man’s search for himself. We first meet the protagonist, Flynn Hawkins, when he’s twenty-two, a graduate student and teaching assistant in the English department of a fictional New York college. In the final chapter, we see Flynn at age forty, just beginning to internalize some valuable life lessons. He has taken a big step closer to self-knowledge, openness, and honesty with himself and others, but he still has a distance to travel.

Flynn’s journey is told in a series of connected stories from different viewpoints. As a fan and writer of short fiction, I relished each chapter as a standalone piece of great writing. Many of the chapters were previously published in literary journals. Most are told from Flynn’s viewpoint, in first person or third person, and several others are told by the people in Flynn’s life: a professor, a close male friend, a high school coach, Flynn’s sister, wife, son, and daughter. This technique renders the most fully-drawn character I’ve seen anywhere.

The stark contrast between Flynn’s perception of himself and how others see him is a variation on a theme that intrigues me and is woven into my courtroom fiction: what is truth or reality but a set of widely varying, subjective points of view? At a criminal trial, ten witnesses will describe the same event ten ways, often inconsistently. In the context of personal relationships, the inability to appreciate the impact of one’s behavior on others can be self-destructive. Flynn’s story, as told from different viewpoints, serves as a wake-up call for the need to step outside oneself as a means of self-examination.

What did I think of Flynn? I flip-flopped between loving and hating him, losing all respect for him and regaining it. He tries so hard that I wish him well. I don’t count my wildly shifting feelings for him as a detraction from the quality of the read. Quite the contrary. This book draws you in. There’s intensity, wit, depth, tenderness, and beauty in the prose. The good and the bad—that’s what makes a complete person. Throughout Flynn’s journey, dear reader, you are going to feel a lot of emotion, and that’s the stuff of great fiction.

I enjoyed this book right through to the last paragraph of the afterword. The author acknowledges his family for co-authoring the story of his life, “which, thanks mainly to them…, seems to be building towards a happy ending. May it, like the final chapter of this book, be just a tad too long.” The last chapter of the book may be the longest, but for me, it was the best. After all the ups and downs, I was glad to see, at last, that Flynn made some real progress in his quest for self-actualization. The people in his life are going to start feeling a whole lot better about him too.

And now, I’m happy to welcome David Hicks to VBlog. Thank you for joining me!

It’s my pleasure! A big hello to all your readers.author David Hicks

White Plains is a resonant work of art. Tell us about its conception and your process. Did the project start as a single short story that begged to be expanded, or did you plan a novel in the form of linked short stories from the start?

Neither! I was just going about my business as a short story writer, publishing in some wonderful literary magazines, when I decided I had enough stories for a collection. Most of my published stories are somewhat autobiographical—I tend to write about times in my life when something shifted for me—and while I was at an artists’ residency in Wyoming I made it my goal to put the stories together in book form. I tried out different arrangements, but it was when I experimented with putting the stories in chronological order (not according to their publication dates but according to the main character’s life) that I realized it could be a novel instead of a collection—there was, in other words, an overall conflict, crisis, and resolution to the whole book. But since it wasn’t written as a novel, I now needed to revise it as a novel, and that meant “filling in the gaps” of the overall narrative. I did that by adding chapters from other characters’ points of view. (I got that idea from a wonderful book called The Last to Go by Rand Richards Cooper.) After that, it felt more like a novel, and I felt justified pitching it as such.

Some of the chapters from Flynn’s point of view are written in first person and some are written in third person. How did you decide which to use?

As a general rule, when I write something that’s a little too autobiographical, I write in third person. It gives me a little distance from myself. I am able to say, “Wow, look at you, what the hell were you thinking when you did that?” And it also helps me to craft my real-life event as a story rather than emotionally “dumping” onto the page. And when it’s not very autobiographical, I narrate in first person, to force myself into a more intimate voice. It also depends on the situation: for example, the chapter that shows when everything changes for young Flynn—when he’s living in Manhattan during 9/11—was originally written in second person (my editor advised me to change it to third person), because it evokes the kind of shell-shocked feeling that seems appropriate for the subject matter.

Do you consider Flynn a reliable narrator? Tell us about your decision to incorporate other voices.

Absolutely not—he’s completely unreliable, especially at first. (Towards the end, he becomes more reliable.) Isn’t that how we all are? And that’s what we like; we like hearing unreliable accounts of events from our friends and family. (How many of us, when hearing a friend’s story of an argument with their spouse or a terrible boss, actively set about contacting the spouse or boss to get a fair version of the story?) It’s the same when we read. Think of Nick Carroway in The Great Gatsby (who has very little idea what has really happened during key scenes), or Dostoevsky’s narrator in Notes from Underground (who’s view of himself and others is irreparably distorted)—we enjoy it when narrators “tell the truth but tell it slant.”

One of my favorite chapters, a very suspenseful one, involves Flynn driving through a snowstorm and getting stranded in the Colorado Rockies. Did you have a similar experience that informed this scene?

That’s a good example of what I was talking about earlier: I wrote that story in third person because it’s almost one hundred percent autobiographical. For two years I lived in one of the most beautiful places in the country, but it’s also quite remote. I got a teaching job over four hours away and proceeded to “commute” there via an isolated route that traversed several mountain passes. I had no money (I was giving my ex-wife the bulk of my paycheck for child support), so I was driving on bald tires, and one week we got some serious snow and I almost died, both on the way there and on the way back. But at my worst moment, stranded in my car in a snowbank, I stepped out at four a.m. and witnessed a spectacular meteor shower in the clear night sky. And after that, I knew what I needed to do.

Do you have another novel planned or in the works?

I’m currently finishing a novel called The Gospel According to Danny, about the death of America as told by a waiter in Yonkers. It’s quite different from White Plains in that it’s a long, linear narrative with many dramatic events. I’m in love with it, but it’s been a very difficult novel to write, so I can’t wait to send it off to my agent.

Thank you for these illuminating insights, David!

Dear reader, to learn more about David Hicks and White Plains, visit his website by clicking here. To pick up a copy of White Plains, click here.

Lenin’s Harem: Book review, conversation with William Burton McCormick, and reflections on my Latvian heritage

For this installment of Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors, I welcome William Burton McCormick to VBlog. McCormick writes suspenseful historical fiction of considerable depth and intelligence in beautiful prose. His works should be on your “To Read” list!

I was first introduced to Bill McCormick’s fiction when we shared the pages of EQMM’s August 2016 issue, which included my story, “Journal Entry, Franklin DeWitt,” about a Soviet ballerina who defected during the Cold War. McCormick’s story, “Voices in the Cistern,” takes us back to ancient times, 50 A.D., where a war is raging in the city of Chersonesus between the Romans and the Scythians. The setting for this edge-of-your-seat tale of thievery and murder is a most unusual place, inside a great, underground cistern containing the city’s water supply. I loved the voice and pace of this story and was impressed by the author’s handling of my favorite theme in fiction: moral dilemma. In my legal thrillers, prosecutor Dana Hargrove is often faced with impossible choices between her personal life and professional ethics. You won’t want to miss the moral dilemma McCormick poses at the end of “Voices in the Cistern”—it’s a real whopper!

McCormick chooses historical settings for his fiction, and his work is meticulously researched. He holds a degree in ancient studies from Brown University, an MA in novel writing from the University of Manchester, and has lived abroad for many years, experiencing firsthand the countries and cultures in his fiction. Here lies another reason I was compelled to read more of his work. A personal reason. McCormick has lived in Latvia for several years and has studied Latvian history extensively.

My late father, Gunārs Ķēmanis, was a Latvian WWII refugee. He lived in a displaced persons camp in Germany from 1944 to 1949 and emigrated to the United States, where he met and married my mother and became a successful engineer. His gratitude to the U.S. was manifested by his complete Americanization; he did not speak Latvian at home, and did not observe Latvian traditions or holidays. In retrospect, I believe this was a coping mechanism for wartime trauma—even after Latvia regained its independence in 1990, my father did not want to visit because of lasting bitterness over the Soviet occupation. Our family name was Americanized, removing the diacritical marks and changing the spoken emphasis from the first syllable to the middle syllable, and my surname did not take on the feminine declension. (In Latvia, it would be written this way: Ķēmane). Conversations with my father and late aunt gave me secondhand knowledge of the Latvian wartime experience, some of which is woven into the stories “My Latvian Aunt” and “Stolen Afternoon” in my collection Dust of the Universe. I’ve also included a second-generation Latvian in my upcoming novel, the fourth Dana Hargrove legal mystery.

McCormick’s short story “Blue Amber,” set in 1910, and his novel Lenin’s Harem, spanning 1905-1941, are works incorporating Latvian history and characters. “Blue Amber” was a Derringer Award finalist in the category of long story. Here, the author pits the protagonist, a Latvian political prisoner, against impossible odds, likely death in either of two ways: at the hand of his Russian captors or in an escape attempt through the frigid waters of the Baltic Sea. This compelling and suspenseful tale kept me turning the pages.

McCormick’s novel Lenin’s Harem vividly portrays the traumatic events spanning the years from the first Russian Revolution in 1905 through WWI, and the Latvian declaration of independence in 1918 through the first Soviet occupation of Latvia at the beginning of WWII. The story is told from the point of view of Wiktor Rooks, a Baltic-German from a wealthy aristocratic family. The action starts with a Latvian uprising against the landowners when Wiktor is a young boy. His family loses the estate. Wiktor becomes a career soldier and ultimately joins the Red Latvian Riflemen, nicknamed “Lenin’s Harem.” As the novel progresses, Wiktor finds more distance from his aristocratic roots, loses his prejudices as he forms personal relationships with Latvians in his regiment, and falls in love with a Latvian woman, Kaiva, who believes in communism. The novel contains impressive insights into relationships that are fraught with conflicting societal and political tensions. One of my favorite scenes is the dinner party where Wiktor introduces his fiancée Kaiva to the family. All is going reasonably well, the family almost accepts her, when a family member mentions that he has petitioned the League of Nations for the return of the family’s land, “illegally seized” by the Latvian government. Idealistic Kaiva innocently professes puzzlement: “Your life seems more than comfortable. Why do you need more?” She observes that their land, which once supported a single family, now supports several Latvian families: “It’s simply a better use of the land.” Who could argue with that? Well, the insult is ultimately tempered somewhat when Kaiva is asked to consider how she felt when she was thrown from her home and became a refugee, causing her to admit that the loss of home is traumatic, no matter what the reason.

If you enjoy historical fiction, tales of war and revolution, political intrigue, psychological suspense, action, family saga, or any of the above, you’ll find it all in Lenin’s Harem, along with a tender love story, all packaged in beautiful prose.

And now, I’ll let Bill McCormick tell us what went into the creation of this superb novel.

Welcome to VBlog, Bill! I find it fascinating that you have chosen to live abroad for years at a time to write historical fiction about the countries you are experiencing firsthand. What led you to make such a dramatic life choice, and what led you to choose Latvia, in particular?

I have always wanted to travel, and I have always wanted a creative occupation. I’m sure those aren’t unusual traits in a writer. Merging them was always a long-term goal for how I wanted to live my life.

Bill at the monument to the Red Latvian Riflemen

As for my interest in Latvia, I was living in Alexandria, Virginia at the time and working on an outline for a sort of generic spy thriller I had dreamed up. In researching a setting for this story, I went to the Latvian Museum in Rockville, Maryland, and bought several books on Latvian history. I was moved about what I learned. I had little knowledge of the cruel events that occurred there. Because of the World Wars, Russian Revolution, Russian Civil War, Holocaust, Soviet deportations to the Gulag, and the exodus of the Baltic-Germans, Latvia lost more than a quarter of its population during the first half of the twentieth century. And I found tragic irony in the story of the Red Latvian Riflemen, who rescued the Bolsheviks time-and-time again and were key in the formation of the Red Army, only to be murdered by Stalin in his purges. After reading this, I ripped up my plan for a spy thriller and decided to write a serious historical novel. At the time, there was little information available on the internet on this era in Latvian history, and what was available was usually in Russian with a decidedly Soviet perspective. So, with a detour through Manchester, England to learn the writing craft, I moved to Latvia. I did not want to depend on third or fourth-hand sources. I wanted total immersion to see the places, the culture, and do the research myself. I arrived in Rīga, knowing no one, without a job, apartment, or command of the language, but determined to write a book that would illustrate to the English-speaking world what happened in Latvia in the twentieth century. I worked with historians, museums, archivists, and interviewed survivors and family members of some of the later events. It quickly went from a novel to a very personal experience. I have since lived in Russia, Estonia and Ukraine, but Latvia, and Rīga in particular, is still the place I think of as home outside of the United States.

I was surprised by the reception the novel received from the Latvian community. I spoke about the book and the history behind it at the Latvian Embassy to the United States in January of 2013. The Latvian Museum, where it all started for me, was kind enough to host a book event. Zvaigzne ABC, Latvia’s largest publisher, published a Latvian-language edition which did quite well, and the book was included in the permanent library of the Latvian War Museum in Rīga. As a foreigner, writing about the history of another nation, I continue to be amazed at the book’s acceptance. It’s still the thing I’m most proud of in my career.

The novel also was well-received in the English-speaking world. Former Senate Majority Leader, Harry Reid of Nevada, sent me a note saying he enjoyed Lenin’s Harem so much he read it twice. Gregg Popovich, head coach of the San Antonio Spurs, liked it enough to send me a bottle of wine. Good word from all quarters.

Lenin’s Harem spans the years from 1905 through 1941. During this period, like many in its history, Latvia was a pawn in an endless struggle for control by Germany and Russia. The protagonist of the novel is Wiktor Rooks, a Baltic-German who grew up in a wealthy family that owned land in present-day Latvia, worked by Latvian servants. What led to your decision to tell this story from the point of view of a Baltic-German rather than a Latvian or a Russian?

When writing Lenin’s Harem, I was aware that my readership would likely be unfamiliar with Latvian history, culture and their way of life in the early twentieth century. By creating a protagonist who is an outsider to that society, it allowed me more naturally to explain things to the audience within the narrative. As I too was an outsider, Wiktor’s discoveries and observations could to some degree mirror my own. Or contrast my own in interesting ways. And, of course, as a wealthy Baltic-German, the character is right in the middle of all the conflicts of nation, ethnicity, and class, as society radically changes during the upheavals of the era.

The characters are tugged in many directions by conflicting forces: social, nationalist, political, ethnic, familial. There’s also just plain survival at work, the need to adapt to the current regime. Rooks is Baltic-German, yet he ends up fighting for the Russians and falling in love with a Latvian woman, Kaiva, who believes in communism. For a modern-day reader from a stable country like the United States, it may be difficult to imagine why a Baltic-German would end up fighting for the Russians. Can you comment on some of these conflicts?

Historically many Baltic-Germans living within the Russian Empire were officers in the Tsar’s army. The first sons of aristocratic families managed the estates, but the second and later sons needed something to do. It was common for this class to end up as professional soldiers. But, during the World Wars, of course, this meant fighting other Germans. So, here we have an interesting conflict for Wiktor, one that creates mistrust with both the Russians and the Latvians. And then when the Bolshevik Revolution occurs, with its intrinsic class warfare, Wiktor’s aristocratic past puts him in even greater peril. There was a lot I could do with such a character. Wiktor begins the novel with the racist and classist views common to wealthy landowners of the time. But as the novel progresses, those prejudices fall away as he meets new people and experiences tragedy and triumph in the company of other economic and ethnic groups, particularly the Latvian soldiers he learns to survive with. By the middle of the novel his love for the revolutionary Kaiva is plausible. His character arc happens in logical steps, taking Wiktor into worlds he could never have imagined at the beginning of Lenin’s Harem. I think this is what makes him a compelling character.

The novel takes us through the beginning of World War II, during the Soviet occupation and the so-called “Night of Terror,” June 14, 1941, when the Soviets deported thousands of Latvians. In the ending scenes, the Soviets are retreating again, on the eve of a new period of German occupation, 1941-1944, and the future of the protagonists is left to the imagination. I love the ending of the book, the combination of hope and self-determination threatened by a grim reality. Are you planning a sequel to let us know how Wiktor and Kaiva fared? What is your current project?

 I have very rough drafts of two more novels that extend the story through days of the Forest Brothers who resisted the Soviet occupation in the Kurzeme and Latgale regions of Latvia until the early 1950s. I hope to revise those at some point. There is more to tell of Kaiva and Wiktor, but for now, the ambiguous nature of their fate gives Lenin’s Harem an appropriately uncertain ending for what were definitely uncertain times.

I am currently finishing a modern thriller set predominantly in Latvia called KGB Banker, co-written with John Christmas. John is a very brave man, a whistleblower against the Russian mob in Latvia and elsewhere. Many of his experiences have inspired our story of a Latvian-American banker who takes a job in Rīga, only to find himself embroiled in murder and an international conspiracy to destroy the Western economy and re-establish the borders of the Soviet Union. High octane stuff.

One of the key characters in KGB Banker is a Latvian journalist named Santa Ezeriņa. Santa is a popular character of mine, having appeared in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Over My Dead Body, and the story “Matricide & Ice Cream” which is about to be published in the United Kingdom in the CWA Anthology of Short Stories: Mystery Tour by Orenda Books. People are always trying to kill poor Santa but can never quite do it. She’s a damn tough heroine. I’m looking forward to having Santa in her first full-length novel.

After KGB Banker is finished, former U.S. Senator Harry Reid and I are planning to write a true crime western set in our mutual home state of Nevada. That ought to keep me busy through 2020 or so.

We look forward to your next novel, Bill! Thank you for this insight into your work and Latvian history.

 NOW, dear reader, where can you get Lenin’s Harem and short stories by William Burton McCormick? Click the links! Lenin’s Harem (ebook) (hardcover)Ļeņina harems (ebook in Latvian) (print book in Latvian)Blue Amber (ebook); August 2016 issue of EQMM; upcoming CWA Anthology of Short Stories: Mystery TourSanta Ezeriņa story “Hagiophobia” in AHMM.

To the Bright Edge of the World: Book Review and Conversation with Eowyn Ivey

My next Dana Hargrove novel (coming January 2018!) has kept me from posting recently, but I just HAVE to take the time to share with you my latest exciting read: To the Bright Edge of the World. Let this be the kickoff to a new series on VBlog, devoted to my favorite authors of literary fiction. Eowyn Ivey is at the top of the list.

Eowyn (pronounced A-o-win) LeMay Ivey was raised in Alaska and continues to live there with her husband and two daughters. Her mother named her after a character from J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings! Her debut novel, The Snow Child, was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize and became an international bestseller. Inspired by a traditional fairytale, the novel tells the story of Alaskan homesteaders in 1920. Here is an excerpt from my review in 2013:

The Snow Child effortlessly skates the line between realism and magic in beautiful, simple prose… Most surprising is the intense suspense created by the comings and goings of the snow maiden. She is the personification of a beautiful but ever-changing wilderness, and like the main characters in the novel, we want her to remain with us while constantly fearing the moment when she will be gone.

Once again, the inscrutable Alaskan wilderness is the setting (or, perhaps, the main character?) in Ivey’s second novel, published a year ago. Set in 1885, To the Bright Edge of the World tells the story of a reconnaissance into the heart of Alaska along the fictional Wolverine River. The small party of five, led by Lieutenant Colonel Allen Forrester, is tasked with exploring the territory recently purchased from Russia. Historically based, yet entirely fictional, the novel comprises an assemblage of journal entries, letters, excerpts from books, photographs, and artifacts. This structure gives the novel the feel of nonfiction and adds elements of mystery and suspense. We are carried along with Forrester and discover Alaska for ourselves with each new adventure.

One such fictional letter is a directive from an Assistant Adjutant General to Forrester at the start of the mission: “The objective is to map the interior of the Territory and document information regarding the native tribes in order to be prepared for any future serious disturbances between the United States government and the natives of the Territory.” The arrogance in this missive is chilling, a foreshadowing of the ultimate disruption to the habitat, health, and customs of the indigenous people. Why would the U.S. ever need to be “prepared for any future serious disturbances” unless a military incursion was deemed a matter of right? Here, Ivey lays the groundwork for one of the underlying themes in her book, a juxtaposition of the cold official purpose of the mission and the humanity the explorers show during their contacts with native tribesmen.

As Forrester’s party trudges through ice canyons of terrifying beauty, encountering setbacks, privation, sickness, and near starvation, the lines increasingly blur between man and beast, perception and reality, the corporeal and the mystical. These slender divisions: are they magic or the products of hallucination, brought on by hunger, exposure, and suggestion?

“They believe it is a thin line separates animal and man,” Samuelson the trapper says about the natives. “They hold that some can walk back and forth over that line, here a man, there a beast.” Forrester encounters an elderly Eyak man who is impossibly ubiquitous, always arriving ahead of the party at their next camp. He’s known as “The Man Who Flies on Black Wings.” When Forrester tells a Midnoosky chief that he is “not accustomed to believing in mountain spirits or men who can fly,” the chief’s response is indisputably logical. Isn’t it true that “your people catch light on paper so that you can see something that happened a long time ago,” and you have “wooden boxes that sing”? Today, with our handheld rectangles of plastic and metal, we instantly transport our voices and images around the world. We are, indeed, everywhere at once, living in the age of magic.

Bright Edge has everything you could want in a novel: adventure, history, danger, mysticism, romance, thrills, terror, supernatural phenomena, and suspense. The characters are multi-dimensional and well-drawn, people you will come to care about. There is even a deep love story in the relationship between Forrester and his wife, Sophie, who waits at the military camp in Vancouver for his return. From afar, Sophie is touched by a few inexplicable phenomena, forging a mystical connection with her husband. Pick up this book, and you too will feel the magic of Alaska. As a great side benefit, thoughts of icebergs are a good way to beat the summer heat. Yesterday, it was 93 degrees in New York!

This fabulous author has graciously agreed to answer a few questions I’ve been dying to ask! Welcome to my blog, Eowyn. I’m so pleased you could join me.

The powerful and dramatic landscape of Alaska figures prominently in your novels. In some of your interviews, you’ve said that you’ve always been trying to understand the state you call your home. Has your writing brought you closer to that understanding?

In ways, yes. I’ve always been perplexed by my love of Alaska because even though it is beautiful and majestic, it also has a lot of darkness and brutality. If I can see all of that clearly, how can I still be so attached to it and be sure I don’t want to live anywhere else? But through the writing process, I’ve come to suspect that is the nature of love. In order to love someone or something with honesty, beyond just the postcard image, maybe I have to know all its flaws and terrors. So I feel like I’m making peace with some element of that. At the same time, Alaska’s past and present is complex, like any place I suppose, so I don’t feel as if I’ve got it all neatly buttoned up. I’ve still got some questions to work with as a writer.

Bright Edge taps into the irresistible, vicarious thrill of joining an expedition into unknown, dangerous terrain, an adventure rooted in historical fact, yet almost beyond the bounds of imagination for most of us today. Your writing captures the feeling of wonder, awe, and fear inspired by the vast and terrifying landscape. Have you had personal experiences in Alaska, in the wilderness, where the magnitude of the environment was overwhelming or you felt at the mercy of nature?

First off, thank you so much for that. One of my main aspirations with the novel was to allow readers to experience the adventure for themselves as much as possible, so I’m so thrilled at your response. And absolutely, even after spending my entire life in Alaska, I continue to be overwhelmed and in awe of the wilderness. This touches on the previous question, about my conflicting emotions about Alaska, because it can be simultaneously magnificent and terrifying. I’ve had the more stereotypical encounters—being charged by a grizzly bear, watching the northern lights on a winter night, sleeping in a remote cabin when it’s 40 below zero outside. But more often the moments are unexpected, like when I’m picking wild blueberries on a mountainside and I stop to stretch my back and realize that as far as I can see in any direction there is not another human being, only mountains and tundra and rivers. It’s a bracing, humbling sensation.

One of my favorite parts of the book is a “written record” of an interview between a Midnoosky chief and Colonel Forrester, who desperately needs advice on the best route to take through the unmapped, treacherous mountains. With each question Forrester asks, the chief is more baffled by his motivations. I was struck by the depth of your insight into the cultural differences and assumptions of these two people—their conversation is also quite funny! Can you comment on the source of your idea for this section and whether it is based on research or knowledge of Midnoosky culture.

That’s wonderful that you saw the humor in that section! Writing funny scenes doesn’t come naturally to me, and I worry I’m too subtle sometimes. But I was hoping to capture some of the miscommunication and cultural disconnect that would be inevitable in a situation like that. I did a ton of research over the years as I was working on Bright Edge —I have shelves and shelves of books, both academic and primary source material about the indigenous people of South Central Alaska, including historic interactions similar to this. But the challenge for me, and the thrill, was to then let all that research slide into the background and allow my characters to interact on their own and be themselves on the page.

At various points in the book, the lives of Forrester and his men are saved by the natives, and in his diaries, Forrester seems to regard them with respect and compassion. This contrasts starkly with his official report to his military commander, in which he coldly gives advice on the “feasible means of bringing a military force into the country” and how best to “control” the Indians “in the event of conflict,” by restricting their access to the food supply to “ensure their quick obedience.” What are your thoughts on this dichotomy?

Again, I so appreciate your close attention to the text. I’m not sure all readers pick up on that conflict, and it was an important aspect of the novel for me. During my research, I read countless military reports and historic documents that would simultaneously express gratitude or admiration for indigenous people even as they set out plans to suppress them. It was naive of me, but at first I was really shocked by some of it. But then I began to see just how commonplace it was, and unfortunately in some cases, continues to be. Some of that history can be blamed on institutional racism—the gears are in motion and an individual feels powerless to stop it. What really surprised me, however, is how often I would be reading a firsthand narrative or journal and the person seems to be intelligent and goodhearted in many ways, but then he or she expresses some really hateful and racist view. None of it fell under the convenient labels of villain versus hero. That was something I took away from my research—people are complex and conflicted and inconsistent, and I wanted to allow that to come through in the novel.

Are you currently working on your next novel?

I have some ideas swirling around, but I haven’t really sat down with them seriously. Winter in Alaska is always a better time for me to focus on writing. Thank you for asking! And thank you again for your insightful questions.

We look forward to whatever you have to offer next!

____________________________

If you’d like to read more about Eowyn Ivey, take a look at her website and these past interviews on other sites: Writers & Books, The Guardian, Publishers Weekly, For Winter Nights.

 

Legal Eagles: Attorneys Writing Fiction (3)

Today on Legal Eagles, I’m featuring a crime author who also happens to be a fellow alumnus from the University of Colorado, School of Law. Manuel Ramos. I had the pleasure of speaking with Manuel recently at the Mysterious Bookshop, at an event to meet and greet the new board members of the Mystery Writers of America. Click here for a blog piece Manuel wrote about his new status on the national board.

As Manuel makes clear in his blog post, he is one of very few published Latino authors of crime fiction. I would venture to guess that he is also one of the few Latino crime writers with the distinction of having a highly successful law career, which included years of award-winning public service for Colorado Legal Services. He is now retired from the law.

At the Mysterious Bookshop, I picked up a copy of his latest novel, My Bad. I’m glad I did.

My Bad, by Manuel Ramos (Arte Publico Press)

My Bad, by Manuel Ramos (Arte Publico Press)

Many reviewers have written of Manuel’s talent for spare and vivid prose, bringing to life Denver’s Chicano culture and changing neighborhoods. I would add to these accolades that his legal background makes a significant contribution to his work. Those of you who’ve read the Dana Hargrove legal thrillers know of my interest in exploring the ethical dilemmas facing attorneys in the field of criminal law. Manuel enhances his work with plenty of them. How’s this one for a doozy? An ex-con employee of a criminal defense lawyer, tailing a client to investigate a civil lawsuit, unwittingly finds himself at the scene of a murder that implicates the client. Should the attorney report it or keep it quiet? What an impossible tug of competing loyalties! A dilemma of choice among the ethical duties owed in multiple capacities: as lawyer, friend, employer, and citizen. I love this stuff!

Subtitled “A Mile High Noir” in a nod to the mile-high Rocky Mountain city, My Bad is just as much a story of the relationship between attorney Luis Móntez and ex-con Gus Corral, as it is a plot-driven crime drama. Gus is adjusting to life on the outside after serving an unspecified number of years in prison for unspecified crimes. Under the watchful eye of his parole officer, Gus is perpetually on edge, second-guessing every step he makes for possible repercussions to his parole status. The legal mess that landed Gus in prison is the subject of a previous novel. Click here to watch a very cool video about the first Gus Corral novel, DesperadoI haven’t read Desperado, but am now driven to read it, to find out more about Gus. Like my Dana Hargrove novels, Manuel’s books are standalone and can be picked up in any order.

My Bad gives a real sense of place and community in its descriptions of city streets and buildings, Mexican food, family gatherings, social events, and references to music, mostly rhythm and blues. The author also sprinkles in a good number of phrases and words in Spanish. Porque lo entiendo un poquito this was not a problem for me, nor would it pose an obstacle for readers who don’t understand the language. The meaning is clear (or close enough to clear) from context, and you’ll enjoy the flavor that the dialog gives to scene and exposition.

In fiction, I appreciate creativity with language, mood, and scene, and you’ll get a lot of that here. The language is terse and, in some places, tough, but not so very tough. I’m a fan of suggestion, innuendo, clever twists, and leaving a lot to the intelligence of the reader—not a fan of graphic violence, blood and guts, or gratuitous cursing. This novel falls in place with these tastes. The characters are human, flawed, a mix of good and bad, their personal challenges relatable. For example, there’s a good deal of angst expressed by Luis Móntez as he prepares to wind down his law practice and retire, reflecting on his professional and personal life, attempting to come to terms. Does this sound familiar to me? Perhaps so. I won’t go into detail.

I enjoyed this novel and look forward to reading more. Check out Manuel’s website for descriptions of all his works.

Legal Eagles: Attorneys Writing Fiction (2)

Re-blogging here an entry from the Kirkus blog by editor Myra Forsberg, entitled “Legal Eagles”!

“Through the ages, the works of playwrights, novelists, and filmmakers, from Shakespeare to Steven Spielberg, have gleefully skewered lawyers. In Spielberg’s Jurassic Park, the first movie in the popular franchise, a discerning dinosaur chomps on a particularly sleazy attorney, delighting fans worldwide. But depictions of heroic lawyers also remain plentiful, particularly on TV, in classic series (Perry Mason) and more recent fare (The Good Wife).

Forsaken Oath“Kirkus recently reviewed three legal thrillers that focus on resourceful attorneys pursuing justice. In V.S. Kemanis’ Forsaken Oath, Manhattan prosecutor Dana Hargrove finds herself embroiled in three cases, including the murder of a fashion designer. In this page-turner, she must uncover the truth and save her career. “The author manages to compellingly depict many distinct areas of the justice system, from the cops on the street to the lawyers on both sides of the courtroom,” our reviewer writes. Jerri Blair’s Black and White, set in 1979,follows Florida public defender J.T. Lockman, who takes the case of an African-American accused of murdering a white car dealer. J.T. believes a Ku Klux Klansman committed the crime but must gather the evidence to prove it. Our critic calls the novel an “energetic tale that’s rife with drama and mystery.” A sinister figure kidnaps teenage girls in Brian Clary’s Amicus Curiae: the daughter of Texas attorney Michelle “Mickey” Grant disappears and the police soon arrest Willie Lee Flynn for one abductee’s murder. Although he’s convicted, Mickey harbors doubts and files an amicus curiae brief, seeking to retry Flynn and discover her daughter’s whereabouts. Our reviewer says, “Fans of crime dramas will find Clary’s suspenseful yarn a welcome addition to the genre.”

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Stay tuned for the third installment of Legal Eagles! I’m currently reading a great legal thriller by attorney Manuel Ramos, soon to be reviewed.

The Long and the Short of It: Writing Style and Reading Experience

We Were the Mulvaneys and TransAtlantic: Book reviews

Years ago, an editor of a major lit mag sent me a “nice” rejection note, extolling the beauty of my story before delivering the kicker: “Your sentences are too long.” I spent the day grumbling about the unfairness of coming “this” close to getting in (sliver of air between thumb and index finger), and then I got to work on the sentences. Months later, when I read the story again, I discovered the improvement. The editor was right. The story I speak of is “Tidal Waters,” which appears in my collection Dust of the Universe.

The obvious lesson here for any writer is to accept criticism, act on good advice, and strive for improvement. The second lesson is to pay attention to sentence length. (As a side benefit, this happens to be a truly fun topic for any language and grammar geek!)

Paragraph-length sentences are commonplace in the flowery prose of 19th century novels (“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”) We wouldn’t want to change a word of Dickens or the Brontës. But for contemporary fiction, which do you prefer: a sentence of 210 words or a three-word fragment? You’ll find plenty of the former in We Were the Mulvaneys by Joyce Carol Oates, and an abundance of the latter in TransAtlantic by Colum McCann.

mulvaneysIn The Mulvaneys, near the end, a 210-word sentence describes a family softball game, with vivid depictions of five characters, the pitcher, batter, umpire, first baseman and third baseman. I’d venture to guess that the novel contains hundreds of sentences this length or longer, jamming the many page-length paragraphs that rush headlong toward elusive end points. I didn’t stop to count the words. I was too busy reading, too enthralled. After closing the last page and drying my tears, I took a moment to mourn my personal loss of the Mulvaneys, as my real-life living room slowly came into focus—a world without them. After getting through all of that, I remembered the sentence about the softball game, went back, and counted the words.

Perhaps you know the Mulvaneys. They comprise that large, noisy clan inhabiting a farmhouse on several acres in upstate New York. The decade is the seventies. They lead exemplary lives, a father and mother, three boys and a girl. The parents are demonstrably in love to the point of embarrassing their kids, every one exceptional: a high school star athlete, a sweet and popular cheerleader, a class valedictorian, and the youngest, an observer of life who grows up to become a newspaperman. Horses, sheep, chickens, cats, dogs, parrots, rabbits, and deer keep the Mulvaneys company up there on the “farm,” although they don’t seem to be doing much farming. The father runs a roofing business and the mother buys and sells antiques. Daily life includes cooperative work rosters, family dinners, a tumultuous togetherness, Christian values. The manic wonderfulness of this life primes us for the hinted-at fall from grace. It’s coming. The catalyst is an unspeakable crime. An act of mere minutes defines a life. One Mulvaney falls, then another. Impotence, futility, revenge. A slow unraveling. Separation. Everyone ruined. Finally, the denouement. A small redemption.

You’ve noticed that, in the paragraph just concluded, I slipped into short, compact sentences and fragments. More on that when we come to TransAtlantic. For now, let’s return to The Mulvaneys.

I don’t mean to say that every sentence in this book is long. That familiar bit of advice for writers—to vary your sentence length—is properly on display. But the writing is extremely busy, complex, and chock-full of detail. For example, we’re treated to an itemization of the myriad objects that accumulate on the edges of the staircase in the Mulvaney home, from thumbtacks and stray gloves to a necktie stained with spaghetti sauce and two blue ribbons from 4-H projects. Some readers, judging by their reviews, are not fans of this kind of detail. Why do we need to know every single nickname for each family member, dog, cat, and horse?

Certainly, Oates is known for her prolixity, but is that a good or a bad thing when it comes to The Mulvaneys? Completely good, I say. I loved this book with its messy writing, the emotional intensity, and urgent tone. Every rule of “good” writing is broken. Besides the run-on sentences, you’ll find overuse of italics and exclamation points and dashes and parentheticals, abrupt changes in point of view from first person narrator to third person omniscient observer, and most delightful of all, abundant non sequiturs. (Are these thoughts, and if so, who is thinking them?) Taking a hatchet to this in the name of good grammar would have stripped the novel of its emotional impact. The very busyness of the writing imparts the chaotic flavor of this household, bringing the reader straight into its heart. Having grown up in a boisterous household within a family larger than the Mulvaneys, I felt right at home. The novel also explores a few of my favorite themes in psychological fiction. Self-deception, and the inability to understand how one’s behavior affects another. The ways in which lives are forever changed by a single, fleeting interaction.

[Note to those of you who’ve read this novel: Didn’t you love the firefly story and Corinne’s implied admission about it at the end?]

transatlanticOn to TransAtlantic by Colum McCann. The construct of this novel is unique. McCann takes three fact-based story lines about men in history who’ve made transatlantic crossings and links their stories—albeit tenuously—with the personal stories of women who’ve played tangential roles in these events. The first part of the book takes history out of order: 1919, the first nonstop flight across the Atlantic Ocean by aviators Jack Alcock and Arthur Brown, Newfoundland to Ireland. (This was my favorite, but unfortunately, the shortest, at 31 pages.) 1845, freed slave and abolitionist Frederick Douglass, on a lecture tour for his autobiography in Ireland. 1998, Senator George Mitchell brokering peace talks in Northern Ireland. The women and their families, spanning five generations, provide the thread linking these events. The second part of the book takes these generations in chronological order, in four sections dated 1863-1889, 1929, 1978, and 2011.

This is a lot of territory to cover in a novel of 300 pages, and the thread takes some effort to follow. We meet the progenitor in the second chapter, Irish housemaid Lily Duggan, who crosses paths with Frederick Douglass. Lily’s daughter and granddaughter, Emily, a writer, and Lottie, appear in the first chapter about Alcock and Brown. Lottie, as an old woman, and her daughter Hannah make a brief appearance in the chapter about Senator Mitchell. The second part of the book expands on the lives of the women, weaving in brief references to the historical figures and their influence.

The writing is full of short sentences and fragments. At times, it was like reading a telegram. Take this paragraph, for example: “News comes later in the morning. A murder in Derry. A member of the paramilitaries. The statements are out. The press releases. The men of violence. Pointless retaliation. Trevor Deeney. Sitting in a car beside his wife. Shot point-blank. For what reason? Is there ever a reason? There will be retaliation. Already promised.” After this, seven more short sentences finish up this paragraph!

For me, the whiplash from constant starting and stopping detracted from the theme of continuation and linkage. The characters are not fully rendered, and I wanted to know them better. On the plus side, the writing is full of beautiful and startling images, unique metaphors, and unlikely juxtapositions of words. The craft and talent in this are awe-inspiring for any writer. “The Great War had concussed the world.”  “Europe was a crucible of bones.” “The sky lifts the hem of Belfast.” “The damp white loaf of his body shuddered.” “The old hieroglyphics of violence” (referring to a scorch mark under a new square of wallpaper).

To contrast: How did the two writing styles affect my enjoyment of the novels? The difference was this. In The Mulvaneys, the writing does not care about itself and simply carried me along. In TransAtlantic, the writing acquired a self-importance and became the prominent feature, drawing me away from the story.

I close with this, a thank you to Colum McCann for an apt metaphoric description of a writer’s labor, taken from the viewpoint of his character Emily: “The elaborate search for a word, like the turning of a chain handle on a well. Dropping the bucket down the mineshaft of the mind. Taking up empty bucket after empty bucket until, finally, at an unexpected moment, it caught hard and had a sudden weight and she raised the word, then delved down into the emptiness once more.”

Legal Eagles: Attorneys Writing Fiction

We all know that lawyers write some of the best fiction. Okay, so I happen to be a lawyer who writes fiction—but I’m not biased. Really. I have proof!

Here are three fantastic reads by my fellow/fella colleagues at the bar. We’ve all had our days in and out of court tackling tough cases, flaky witnesses, annoying adversaries, and exacting judges. We’ve experienced the thrill of investigative discovery, the tedium of preparation, the surprises and heartbreaks that arise in the midst of trial. Truth is often stranger than fiction, and the criminal courtroom provides fertile ground for moral dilemma and human drama, a launching pad for the imagination of the novelist.

The writing styles and plotlines in these novels differ greatly, but each author touches on a common underlying theme: the life story behind the face might not be what you expect. Each novel features a character who may just end up surprising you. I will attempt to avoid spoilers and give you merely an enticing flavor of each.

A Good Killing, by Allison Leotta a-good-killing-small

Leotta is a former sex crimes prosecutor for the U.S. Attorney’s Office in D.C. A Good Killing features her fictional sex crimes prosecutor, Anna Curtis. In an unexpected twist, family loyalties cause Anna to switch hats for the first time in her career as she takes up the defense of her sister Jody, who finds herself in big trouble with the law, indicted for murder. The victim is a revered high school coach, Owen Fowler.

The storyline will hit home with any woman who can think back to high school days and find, in memory, a teacher, coach, or counselor who was popular, maybe even the subject of a young girl’s dreams, only to realize later, with the maturity of adulthood, that the perception was dangerously skewed. Coach Fowler is just such a character, a man with a nasty secret. Other secrets abound in this novel, as Jody does her utmost to keep Anna in the dark—not a good thing for an attorney representing her sister in the trial of her life. Tensions between the personal and the professional always draw me in, especially when the conflict implicates the ethical obligations of an attorney.

Another interesting aspect of A Good Killing is its structure, written from two points of view in alternating chapters. We hear Jody’s voice, speaking to Anna in first person, alternating with Anna’s point of view, written in third person. The technique is effective in building suspense, as the two tales ultimately merge in a satisfying conclusion.

This is the fourth novel in the Anna Curtis series, but each is a standalone. The fifth is soon to be released. Click here for Allison’s website

The Life We Bury, by Allen Eskens  life-we-bury-small

Eskens is a criminal defense attorney with previous experience on the other side of the courtroom as a prosecutor. His debut novel, The Life We Bury, cannot be pigeonholed. It has characteristics of literary fiction, mystery, and legal thriller. Protagonist Joe Talbert is a college student turned boy sleuth when he undertakes a writing assignment for English class and interviews an unlikely subject for a biographical essay—war hero and convicted murderer Carl Iverson.

This novel draws you in from the start with engaging, unique characters and vivid writing that makes use of all the senses. You can smell the unique odors of the nursing home Hillview Manor, see the “old woman wearing a crooked wig,” and feel the ambience of an archive room, where the “essence” of “millions of souls packed away on microfilm” waits to be “felt, tasted, and inhaled again.” In one of my favorite scenes, you can hear the pro forma litany between judge and attorney during a bail hearing, likened to “a Catholic funeral mass.” The suspenseful and entertaining conclusion of The Life We Bury takes Joe Talbert through harrowing twists and turns that may test the bounds of plausibility—but you’ll be so immersed and on the edge of your seat that the ordeal becomes all too real.

Eskens has published a second novel, and the third is on the way. Click here for Allen’s website

A Conflict of Interest, by Adam Mitzner  conflict-of-interest-small

Mitzner is a partner in the commercial litigation department of a New York City law firm. His expertise in securities litigation finds its way into his debut novel, A Conflict of Interest. Of the three novels under review here, Mitzner’s contains the most courtroom drama and litigation strategy—all of the kind of stuff that fascinates lawyers and law buffs alike!

In this novel, protagonist Alex Miller is a white collar defense attorney representing client Michael Ohlig in a securities fraud prosecution. Mid-trial, Alex learns a secret about Ohlig—a very serious transgression—that profoundly affects Alex’s personal view of his client. Trying not to let his animosity stand in the way of providing a brilliant defense, Alex must also grapple with a client who constantly battles him over issues of trial strategy, right down to the crucial question of whether Ohlig should take the stand in his own defense. The stress level hits a high note as the author depicts, in detail, the high stakes environment, pressure, and politics of a big law firm, and the toll that the environment takes on the lawyer’s home life.

If you want a fast-paced courtroom thriller, A Conflict of Interest is for you. Mitzner has also published two other novels, and a third will be released in April. Click here for Adam’s website

A common lament among mystery/suspense/thriller writers is the lack of time to enjoy the many fine novels of our contemporaries, as we struggle to find every spare minute for our own writing. I’m currently on a break between the third and fourth Dana Hargrove novels and have a bit of time to write a few short stories and to read a few extra novels. Prediction: another installment of Legal Eagles will make its way to this blog! Reading another good one now…