Book Review: The Ambler Warning

I just finished reading a "throw-away" thriller novel. Mark, who seems to only read engaging and intellectually fulfilling books would be disappointed, but I have an idea kicking around for a mystery cum thriller, and so, I chalk this up to research.

It wasn't a terrific thriller, but I read the entire story and it had it's moments. By the end I felt enthralled. There were one or two themes and words that caught my eye, among them:

Wet Work - I've heard this term before, used commonly with political assassination, but I didn't realize it had a Russian background. Wetwork or wet work is a euphemism for murder or assassination, alluding to spilling blood. It is popularly attributed to the KGB and their broad euphemism for such activities, mokroye delo (wet job).

Avoirdupois – I’ve heard this, but I always forget the exact definition. I can usually figure it out from the context clues, but the literal translation is goods of weight, but can be used in terms of personal weight or heaviness.

Pelf – never heard it used, but it means money or riches.

Fustian – I’ve never heard of this word but boy it has potential. A strong cotton and linen fabric or a class of cotton fabrics usually having a pile face and twill weave. But can also be used to describe high-flown or affected writing or speech or anything high-flown or affected in style.

Finally, a phrase that was the basis for a theme in the book – Recall the man, of ancient times, who set up a shop in a village selling both a spear he said would penetrate anything and a shield he claimed nothing could penetrate.

On to the next throw-away book . . . I mean bit of research.

Book Review: The Dog Walked Down the Street

As part of my New Year's Resolution I dedicated myself to reading more books about the publishing industry and about writing novels. I would have said for every novel I read I have to read one non-fiction, but I want this resolution a bit more open ended. If I gave myself a one to one relationship, I doubt if it would have lasted a month.

Nevertheless, I have just finished The Dog Walked Down the Street by Sal Gynn.

It is a very short, book about how to deal with the work of finishing a book, finding an angent and the process of being published. Lot's of snippets and adages, such as:

Novelist James Lee Burke, Pulitzer Prize Nominee and winner of Two Edgar Allan Poe awards, started writing fiction in college. His English professor returned one of his stories with a "D" and the remarks, "Your spelling is an assault upon the eyeballs. Your penmanship makes me wish the Phoenicians had not developed the alphabet. But I couldn't give you an F because you have so much heart."

"The dog walked down the street" has all you'd want from a sentence, but needs a bit more to give color and show it importance in the story.
So much better is "The spindly, dun-colored mutt staggered along the broken sidewalk."

Books are made of words, but you have too many in this sentence. "Down the street on the 13th of May in the year that Roosevelt died (Franklin, not Theodore), a spotted dog with a limp (which bespoke years of wandering, looking for a master who, oddly, disappeared the night of his high school graduation) was seen walking by a third grade teacher and his twenty-nine students."

All in all, it was inspirational, and there was a nugget or two of worthwhile in it.

Book Review: Origin in Death

Every now and then I try and break out of my reading mold. In general I tend to read mystery novels, and if I didn’t force myself, I’d never read anything but Dick Francis, Lawrence Sanders and Agatha Christie novels. Breaking out of this mold however has lead to my reading some wonderfully inspiring, and well written works. I’ve enjoyed JA Konrath’s series of books, George MacDonald Frasier, Vernor Vinge, and George RR Martin’s series. Then there are the stinkers. The books that having finished them I wish I had the time I invested back. Time that I could better spend doing something worthwhile like watching paint dry or following the pattern in the office carpeting. Some books that are in this category? Ellen Crosby’s first book . . . another? Neal Stephenson’s Anathem . . . yet another? Anything by James Patterson. No offense to Patterson fans, but BLAH!

Anyway, I just finished Origin in Death by J.D. Robb, aka Nora Roberts. Apparently Nora Roberts is the romance side of the authoress, while J.D. Robb (the pseudonym) is the mystery novelist; the futuristic mystery novelist to be precise.

The story for Origin in Death takes place in the near future, the 2050’s. Setting the story in future New York City allows the author the ability to throw in some interesting inventions and cut down on travel times via the use of “jet copters” and “glides,” but in general, and perhaps it has something to do with the fact that Origin in Death is like the twelve of thirteenth in the series, I felt Robb/Roberts did a rotten job of creating a believable setting. In terms of world building, something sci-fi authors tend to do well, J.D. Robb left a lot on the table.

The mystery and the characterization was well done however. This is something I’ve learned over the past few years. Character counts more than anything else. You can have a fabulous plot and story, but without compelling characters, the story aint going nowhere.

I don't know if I LIKED this passage, but I did read it twice. “But he didn’t ooze like evil fog out of the walls or woodwork. He always oozed like evil fog out of the walls or woodwork. She had a moment to be puzzled, then irritated, then mildly concerned he’d dropped dead during the day.”

Another passage that caught my eye, and what I felt was perhaps the most well written and succint line in the story: “It’s difficult to say with any accuracy. It was war. Personalities cope, or shine, or shatter during war.”

Finally, you have to give J.D. Robb/Nora Roberts serious props for how prolific she is. I looked her up on Wikidpedia to see how many books she has had published under her various pen names . . . I stopped counting at two hundred. That’s some serious dedication to writing.

So where does Origin in Death fit in my range of good book to waste of time book? Squarely in the middle. Not a complete waste of time, but definitely could have been better. (Lord knows it wasn’t as big a waste as Neil Stephenson’s Anathem. Truly, that tome may have skewed the curve for all future books.)

Book Review: Writing the Breakout Novel

Finished reading Donald Maass’, Writing the Breakout Novel. This is without hyperbole the best book on the craft of writing I’ve read yet. I have found that most of these craft books all say the same thing….character is key, increase conflict, yada, yada, yada. Although Writing the Breakout Novel includes many of these same tips, Maass provides quite a bit more, and most importantly delivers it an extremely easy manner.

There were times in college when I would be blessed with spectacular professors (a rare event in the Texas A&M English Dept). These professors seemed to be speaking directly to me, when in fact I was just one of hundreds in the auditorium. They were the professors of the classes that I looked forward to attending (and were usually spot-lighted by the atrocious professors in the History Dept). Reading Writing the Breakout Novel made me feel as if I was in one of those spectacular classes again.

A short snippet and some of his advice? “A breakout novelist is somewhat maniacal, possibly even sadistic. They discover what is the worst that can happen then make matters worse still.”
The book is filled with great passages that are both insightful and are fun to read.

Maass also stocks the book with passages from books that are representative of breakout novels. A great one, and one I intend to mimic in my book, On the Edge:

“I used to think that a fall was more than likely not the result of one stupendous error, or an unfortunate accident. I hadn’t learned that it can happen so gradually you don’t lose your stomach or yourself landing. You don’t necessarily sense the motion. I’ve found it takes at least two and generally three things to alter the course of a life: you slip around the truth once and then again, and one more time, and there you are, feeling, for a moment, that it was sudden, your arrival at the bottom of the heap.”
Jane Hamilton’s A Map of the World

One of these passages was particularly memorable if only because I remember reading it years ago when I read Snowcrash, and I liked it even then. It’s about a pizza deliver man’s car in the near (dystopian) future.

The Deliverator’s car has enough potential energy packed into its batteries to fire a pound of bacon into the asteroid belt. Unlike a bimbo box or a Burb beater, the Deliverator’s car unloads that power through gaping, gleaming, polished sphincters. When the Deliverator puts the hammer down, shit happens. You want to talk contact patches? Your car’s tires have tiny contact patches; talk to the asphalt in four places the size of your tongue. The Deliverator’s car has big sticky tires with contact patches the size of a fat lady’s thighs. The Deliverator is in touch with the road, starts like a bad day, stops on a peseta.
Neal Stephenson’s Snowcrash

Finally, I was astounded by how many of the breakout novels he cited that I have read. One that I apparently need to get, and very soon, is Shogun. He cited that more than any other novel.

Basically, I went into Writing the Breakout not looking forward to it, and thinking that perhaps it wouldn’t be geared to my particular capabilities as a writer. I was wrong. Not only did it have a strong message and easy to read content, but I would recommend it to new writers and experienced authors alike.

Book Review: Marooned In Real Time

Just fininshed Marooned in Realtime by Vernor Vinge; a spectacular cross genre novel, sci-fi and mystery. As I was reading it, and there are hints of this in Vinge’s other books, I was astounded to see that he is remarkably similar in style and scope to Isaac Asimov. Where Fire Upon the Deep and Deepness in the Sky were both epic and wide ranging (similar to the Foundation Series of Asimov) Marooned in Realtime is far more like The Robots of Dawn; smaller in scope and focused on a far more precise set of issues.

As with the other Vinge novels (and I’m aware this is a bit of a one dimensional comment) I’m continually amazed that his titles, which on first reading seem somewhat nonsensical or absurd, fit the novel so well once the book gets going. In Marooned in Realtime we find the last of humanity stranded in the future. All of these survivors gave up or were shanghaied from their past lives to live life in the future via the use of bobbles, sort of a human safe deposit box or time capsule. These folks all thought that the future would hold more for them, but awakened to find a desolate, empty planet. The title comes from the murder mystery that takes place in this desolate future setting. The protagonist, Wil, is asked to figure out who left one of the more prominent members outside the time capsule to die of old age and exposure. Thus, she was marooned in real time while the rest of the characters slept the millennia away in their safe deposit boxes.

Overall I liked it. Not quite as well fleshed out or grand as his other works, but a very engrossing story. He wraps several mysteries into this book to keep the reader’s interest. First, who killed Marta and why. Second, what happened to Humanity. Third, who was it who shanghaied the protagonist and sent him to the future against his will, and why. Fourth, will the new settlement of humanity be enough to repopulate the Earth. It is a good lesson on providing a multitude of mysteries for the reader to chew on rather than just the one central mystery.

One passage caught my eye for the way the protagonist sums up his nature:
"Wil lumbered into the bathroom, washed away the strange wetness he found around his eyes. All through his career, he'd done his best to project an appearance of calm strength. It hadn't been hard: He was built like a tank, and he was naturally a low-blood-pressure type. There were a few cases that had made him nervous, but that had been reasonable, since bullets were flying. In police work, he'd seen a fair number of people crack up."

And this one, about understanding innovation:
It read as he imagined Benjamin Franklin's analysis of a jet aircraft might read. Yelen could study the equipment, but without Tunc's explanations its purpose would have been a mystery. And even knowing the purpose and the underlying principles of operation, she couldn't see how such devices could be built or why they worked."

Like most Sci-Fi stories I was lost for the first chapter or two. I’ve always hated when authors thrust the reader into the middle of the action (in media res). I’ve always thought a bit more exposition and description is necessary. The end too was a bit choppy, but the easy to foresee revenge was quite fun to read. All in all as good as his others but in different ways.

Reading Epics (Partial Reveiew of Shogun)

Anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis knows that the reason I haven’t written any book reviews lately is that I’m knee deep into Shogun by James Clavell, a book I read following several mentions by Donald Maass in his book Writing the Breakout Novel. Shogun is a long sucker. Ranks right up there with Les Miserables and Lonesome Dove in terms of length. There is one thing that I’m discovering regarding epics, and it brings to mind something else I’ve read about the mechanics of writing, namely that there should be conflict on every page.

I recall several times while reading Lonesome Dove that I got a bit beaten down by the story. There were times when I felt it dragged, particularly when a secondary story line, one that pulled the reader away from the cattle drive, came along. Having read Shogun, I appreciate to a greater degree what McMurtry pulled off in Lonesome Dove. I find his ability to weave stories back and forth along a central story of the cattle drive to be far more ground-breaking than I originally thought. While the cowboys drive the cattle, Gus and Call are on a walk down memory lane, Jake Spoon is camping out with Laurie, and then getting into trouble, Gus is out saving Laurie. Later, Jake is off being hung by his old friends, the buffalo skinners are trekking to Kansas with Elmira and July Johnson is chasing them. Roscoe is chasing July, Gus is meeting Clara, Newt is trying to figure out if Call is his dad and all of this as the cattle drive continues. In and out, in and out, almost all of the stories touching the cattle drive as it moves North. Along with this is the constant conflict that each character faces. Les Miserables in similar. Many, many stories all touching on Jean Val Jean’s central journey toward redemption. Conflict abounds.

Shogun lacks this type of narrative but certainly hits the same levels of conflict. Shogun is about political positioning and how a Westerner deals with the cultural differences and survives as a prisoner of war. One aspect I’m finding I don’t care for, and this is minor to say the least, is that in both Lonesome Dove and Les Miserables, the chapters delineate the changes in point of view (POV). Not so in Shogun. Clavell doesn’t hesitate to change POV in mid-chapter, sometimes with no warning. Just something to remember when I write my own epic.

Book Review: Shogun

Shogun by James Clavell was an inspiring and sweeping epic that was both engaging and surprisingly easy to read. Easy meaning that although the author weaves several deep political stories, and works in several themes and shows how a prisoner of war can become a victim of the Stockholm Syndrome, Clavell deftly enter into the minds of his characters and allows each of them to explain the stories from so that the story becomes easy to understand as well as supremely engrossing.

One of the aspects of the book that I enjoyed the most was that it landed far more on the side of fiction than history. One aspect of historical fiction that I've never enjoyed is trying to figure out what is actual history from fiction. I'll never read another Mischner if only cause I'm never sure what I can cite to my friends with complete certainty. Clavell lets the reader know from the outset, through the changing of the names and people who lived and died, that very little of what is in the book should be taken as a fact. Instead what the reader gets is a primer on life in Japan in the late 16th century.

Clavell's writing is descriptive, clear and at time poetic. I marked these samples in my Kindle Notes:

Describing Mariko, the protagonist's love interest, "At once she hurried back into the other room, her silk kimono sighing like a midnight sea."

Blackthorne, the protagonist, thinking about Toronaga, "That's where Toranaga will be, he thought, an ice barb suddenly in his bowels."

Blackthorne watching the sunrise, thinking about the coming day, "The dawn was smoky. The sky to the east was already burnt clean of the haze. The air smelled salt and wet from the sea. Flies already swarmed. It'll be hot today he thought." It turned out to be a bad day, I thought the sentence set that up well.

Clavell also seemed to make a big deal in describing the eating, "(he) went to his own quarters and ate rice, pickled vegetables, and broiled chunks of fish." The first few times he says this I thought it was to emphasize the simplicity of the Japanese diet at the time. Later, after he had used the same saying dozens of times, I started to wonder if he was using it so often to express the monotony of the always eating the same thing, that perhaps the diet was too simple. Still it was just one of the hundreds of "slices of life" that he uses to help transport the reader into the setting.

One of the main characters, Toranaga, the eventual Shogun in fact, is a vivid character who becomes more likable as the novel progresses. Clavell often describes Toranaga hunting with his hawks. The author does a wonderful job of allowing the reader insight into Toranaga's mind. He also takes these opportunities to reinforce a couple of the themes by having the Toronaga think about and analyze the hawks he owns and loves. He goes to extreme detail in the description of the hunts. At the end of one hunt he writes, "Because Tetsu-ko had flown so well, Toronaga decided to let her gorge and fly her no more today. He gave her a small bird that he had already plucked and opened for he. When she was halfway through her meal he slipped on her hood. She continued to fee contentedly through the hood. When she had finished and began to preen herself again he picked up the cock pheasant, bagged it, and beckoned his falconer, who had waited with the beaters." What is interesting is that throughout that whole passage Clavell describes the hawk's through Toronaga, letting the reader think he is linking the qualities of one particular hawk to Blackthrone. It's not till the end that the reader realizes who he is actually describing.

Among the several stories that Clavell weaves through the book is a political struggle between the ruling parties at the time. Although there are passages where in I found myself confused by the Japanese politics, in general I never found myself too confused, and by the end of the book was not confused at all. I found that a bit of patience helped me gain a fuller appreciation for the book and the story. It was very much like being in a chess game, particularly as so many of the samurai in the book are treated like pawns, used and sacrificed with hardly a second thought. There were dozens of feints and thrusts and threats of the same. By the end of the book the reader feels as though Toronaga has set up the board just as he wanted it from the very beginning of the book.

At one point, near the end of the book, a main character betrays Toronaga and Blackthrone. It was such a sudden and unexpected twist that I actually gasped as I read it. What I found so interesting about this betrayal was that it was perfectly in tune with the nature of the character; there was no reason for the reader not to expect it. In fact, Toronaga, in an excellent example of foreshadowing, expects it throughout the book. Still, it was surprising when it came.

Finally, I have to say that Donald Maass (whose book, Writing the Breakout Novel was the impetus behind my reading Shogun) was entirely correct. Shogun does sweep the reader away and immerse them in a compelling and rewarding story. I can think of few books that stand alone (meaning serials are excluded) that have done such a masterful job of creating a world and rich set of characters. If you haven't, go read it. Expect future posts to describe how the mini-series differs.

Book Review: To the Nines

Finished To the Nines, a Stephanie Plum novel by Janet Evanovich yesterday. Although this is a “throw-away” mystery, one that I probably won’t carry with me for longer than a day or so, I like this series if only because although the story is not memorable, the characters are. It wasn’t until I read a second one that I realized how much I liked the characters. They’re light, fun, and Evanovich instills them all with a distinct humor which is fun to follow.

I did not note any specific lines that caught my eye while I was reading it, but the author did do something a bit out of the ordinary, both for her and in terms of other stories in the same genre. As the story is coming to an end, and Stephanie is about to be either targeted by the killer, or actually catch her man, the reader starts to notice that Evanovich is running out of pages with which to perform a proper wrap-up. Usually with mysteries you can count on at least a full chapter for the reveal and for the resulting denouement. The closer I got to the end of To the Nines, the more I wondered what was going to happen if only because she was leaving herself so little room to do it. I wonder if this was her intent. It sure heightened my anticipation. The story by itself was simple and not at all surprising.

A bit clever, always cute and funny, but basically I read this in order to clear my head after Shogun. Such a deep themed book as Shogun was demands a lighter than usual follow-on book. Like a light sorbet after a heavy dinner.

One thing I have trouble with, and I find this to be the case in so many books, I've never been to New Jersey, the setting for To the Nines, and have a hard time imagining the area as Evanovich describes it. She describes her neighborhood, the Burg, as a typical Jersey neighborhood. That doesn't help a reader who hasn't any idea what a typical Jersey neighborhood looks like. I think it's sad that so much of the setting is lost based on my own limitations. In Shogun Clavell spends a lot of time building a world for the reader to imagine. To the Nines and other books by Evanovich ask the reader to already know these things, and so I miss out on some of the local color she tries to impart.

Evanovich if nothing else is good with consistency and creating characters that are deeper than her books. Her series is in the fifteen or sixteens by now? Sixteen stories using the same characters? Having those characters continue to be fun, full of life, and worth reading? That can’t be easy to do.

All told To the Nines was another solid offering by an author I find inspiring for her prolific writing and steadfast following. For light, humorous reading with a touch of mystery and engaging characters, Evanovich can't be beat.

Book Review: Agents Editors and You

This should be a quick review. As part of my New Year's Resolution I am reading books on the writing craft. Agents, Editors and You, The Insiders Guide to Getting Your Book Published was not quite as informative as most other books on publishing, but did keep my interest if only for those one or two new nuggets of information, and the constantly switching voice.

The book is a compilation of articles compiled by the Writer's Market into a book. Every single one of the chapters had been previously published in magazines. So like a vacuum cleaner bag, this book just brought all the debris together into one place. All told I didn't learn too much I didn't know, except in one area. Editing.

This book went into detail about the number of people who get to read, comment and edit a manuscript prior to publication. I'm no longer curious as to why it takes close to two years to get a book published. Agents, Editors and You certainly laid it out for the reader about the number of times an editor is going to look over and suggest changes. It also provided feedback on how to deal with different types of editors.

Another interesting aspect of the book was that it broke up the articles into non-fiction and fiction publishing, and further broke down those categories by genre. This meant that I had a couple of good articles that pertained to writing mysteries.

All in all though, waste of my time. I think I need to amend my resolution to state that I must read craft books that are timely if they discuss publishing. This book was written in 2002 and brought up e-reading in a completely different vein, as if it might die out and just blow away. But, as a primer for traditional publishing, it gave me one or two interesting answers, but for the most part just reinforced what I already knew and suspected. I would have been better off with either of the two other craft books on my list, Stephen King's On Writing, or Guerrilla Marketing for the Writer.

The best part about this book was that it was written in such a way that I could tear through it and get to the next book on my list, a novel suggested by an old friend Wheeler. His recommendation came from "the ghan" and he said this guy "had it right." Looking forward to it is an understatement.

Book Review: The Afghan Campaign

A couple of weeks ago my old friend from the Ranger Batt recommended I read The Afghan Campaign by Steven Pressfield. This was startling to me if only because when I knew Wheeler he was not the type to recommend reading, much less a book. If he did read it was only field manuals or the Ranger Handbook. This new book he recommended sounded like a thick non-fiction account of war like Not A Good Day to Die or We Were Soldiers Once and Young. Something meaty and deep, political and controversial. I'm somewhat happy to note that Wheeler has not changed much.

As soon as I started the book I remembered an incident that occurred in the middle of the night while pulling guard in a patrol base in the middle of Fort Lewis. A book landed in my hands, a fictional account of the Battle of Thermopylae from the point of view of a Greek soldier. I don't remember if I finished the book or not, but I remember I didn't like it for the same reason I don't like Michener books; I never know what I should believe and what I shouldn't.

The Afghan Campaign is a fictional account of Alexander the Greats campaign in Afghanistan. To say the least the book is stark and startling in its account of both the war and the people fighting it. Several themes jump out from the pages, among them the fact that soldiers should not think, only act. Several times throughout the book, the hero Matthias is caught by his leaders as he ponders the war and his actions. They remonstrate him by glowering and saying "you're thinking again." Another obvious theme, the brutality of the Afghanis and their morals. I believe that more Afghan children die at the hands of their fathers, and siblings at their hands of their brothers or sisters, than do die because of Matthias.

The first instance that the reader is shown of this difference in moral compass occurs when Matthias' leader Flag is about to cut off the hand of a young boy because the father wont confess to having stolen Mattias' wallet. The entire family, save one small girl, is ready to sacrifice the boy's hand for the sake of keeping the wallet. Infact, throughout the book several children or siblings break the harsh moral code, and usually end up beaten or dead because of it. Pressfield says: "They are loyal and gay and kind and so corrupt that you cannot even get angry at them. To them a bribe is simply good manners, and paying someone off no more tha friendship and cosideration." At one point Mattias, having seen all of these horrors from the Afghans says, "One may be terrified of them or appalled by them, but it is impossible not to respect them." I found that line to be a stretch. The final theme is that of service and duty to ones unit. I was not at all surprised to find that not only was Pressfield a former Marine, but a Marine with combat duty in Iraq aided him in his writing of the novel.

I found Pressfield to be an incredibly vivid writer. Several lines caught my attention;

Describing Mattias walking through a market in the Middle East: "A man hung his purse next to his testicles and, after shaking hands with a stranger, checked to make sure both sacks were still where he had left them. "

Describing an attack on an Afghan village: "Our men vault this in scores, like water over the lip of a dam."

Describing journalists: "Still they are here with us, these ink-mice, eating the same dust and shaking the same serpents out of their boots."

He has a fine line about the difference between a horse and a mule: "A horse is loyal; if oyu fall and break a leg, a good mount will stick with you. A mule will give you that look that says, “Sorry, mate” – and make away at the hot trot."

He has a fabulous turn of phrase for dying that I had never heard before: "They’ll strip our corpses and jig over our bones – ours and however many other hundreds of our compatriots will have gone briskets-down before the column gets over these mountains."

When Matthias is excited to show off his new child he says: "Flag and stepahanos visit to inspect this newest campaigner. he salutes their entrance with a stupendous defecation. My friends acclaim its volume and manly stink. I could not be prouder if the child had produced a second Illead."

And finally, when Matthias is reunited with his horse that he loved, "Emotion overwhelms me. I: stroke my darlin's muzzle. I understand, even as my heat overflows with it, that my elation at her recovers is a surrogate for other losses, far keener and not yet made good. Beloved comrades for whom my heart cannot yet mourn; missing brothers for whom even now I seek. They all become one for me in the form of this dear animal, whom I believed I would never see again and who now, one horse out of five thouseand, has miraculously been delivered into my arms."

Throughout the book the reader expects trouble for Matthias, both in fighting and for his new wife and child. Sadly, the climax does not dissapoint. It comes swiftly and tragically and leaves the reader both vindicated in their distrust of the author has built around the Afghans and heart broken for Matthias.

Pressfield wrote two passages regarding the war that I felt might have resonated with Wheeler who is there fighting for us.

"A unit can work no more than two days in any direction; men and horses simply can’t carry enough water to get out and back. Native guides are useless. They all work for the enemy. An afghan who aids the invader returns to his village to find his wife and children butchered, or waiting themselves to buthcher him. The foe bested in a fight makes he getaway with ease while you in the chase must negotiate a tables of defiles and dry courses, knowing always that the enemy is a master of the feigned flight and the double-back ambush." When I read this I thought of Wheeler and how frustrated he must get.

And this one, more political than most, also more demoralizing, provided during a speech Pressfield has Alexander give: "This is not conventional warfare. It is unconventional. And we must fight it in an unconventional way. Here the foe will not meet us in pitched battle, as other armies we have duled in the past, save under considtions of his own choosing. His word to us is worthless. He routinely violates truces; betrays the peace. When we defeat him, he will no accept our dominion. He comes back again and again. He hates us with a passion whose depth is exceeded only by his patience and his capaticy for suffereing. His boys and old men, even his women, fight us as combatants. They do not do this openly, however, but instead present themselves as innocents, even as victims, seeking out aid. When we show comopassion, they strike with stealth. You have all see what they do to us when they take us alive.”

Thinking back, it may have been Wheeler who pressed that book into my hands all those years ago. I wish now I'd given it more of a chance. Based on The Afghan Campaign I would have liked it.

Book Review - Shatter Island

A few months ago I saw the trailer (or is it preview) for Shatter Island with Leanardo Dicaprio. I remember leaning over to my wife and whispering that I thought it looked great. She, who hates horrors, whisper back an extremely unconvincing and sarcastic, “Yeah.” Little did she know, I wasn’t being sarcastic. I knew at that moment I would not get to go see it. When you have a wife who hates horrors, and a three year old and a three month old i some movies must be passed over. Shatter Island was one such movie.

I few weeks ago I read a snippet in our local writing group’s newsletter about what a wonderful book Shatter Island was. How many stories take the reader up several flights of stairs, all the time the allowing the tension to mount. This author said that reading Shatter Island was like climbing stairs that were rickety, falling apart and constantly twisting and turning. This inspired me to read it. She was right. It was not only full of twists but also filled with some sparkling writing.

First, I thought it interesting, and I didn’t realize that this occurred till well after I finished the book, but the prologue is first person, the rest of the story third. I thought this was interesting since it gave the reader a peek into the main character, Teddy’s, psyche, then allowed you to watch his actions with that foundation. A couple of compelling and well written passages from that prologue:

“She said once that time is nothing to me but a series of bookmarks that I use to jump back and forth through the text of my life, returning again and again to the events that mark me, in the eyes of my more astute colleagues as bearing all characteristics of the classic melancholic.”

When I read that line I thought it was decent. It wasn’t until I read this next line several sentences later that I felt that the author had hit on something.

“I misplace things far too often these days, my glasses more than anything. My car keys. I enter stores and forget what I’ve come for, leave the theater with no recollection of what I’ve just seen. If time for me really is a series of bookmarks, then I feel as if someone has shaken the book and those yellowed slips of paper, torn matchbook covers and flatted coffee stirrers have fallen to the floor, and the dog-eared flaps have been pressed smooth."

Those passages seem to be setting the reader up for a chaotic and crazy rest of the story.

This next passage figured heavily throughout the book, and by the end of the story the mystery behind the man’s hands makes sense. I tagged it as soon as I read it not realizing that it would come up again. Bully for me for catching the foreshadowing. In actuality I just loved the metaphor.

“He was a bit stockier and a bit shorter than Teddy, maybe five ten or so, and he had a head of tight, curly black hair and olive skin and slim, delicate hands that seemed incongruous with the rest of him, as if he’d barrowed them until his real one came back from the shop.”

These next few metaphors too were quite well laid out, it again hits on the theme that things aren’t what they seem.

“Crawley’s smile returned, but it was a more vicious version, and it reminded Teddy of the film that formed over soup.”

“He leaned on the rail and looked at a sky the color of baby blue eyes.”

“Teddy turned from the books, watched Neahring glance at his glass, a silkworm of a smile twitching his soft mouth."

Despite the fact that I find groin to be an incredibly unfortunate sounding word, ranks right up there with “meal” on the grating on my nerves index, I thought that Lehane’s ability to inspire sexuality in this scene with this passage was quite well done.

“Oh, I do.” She sat up on the bed and tucked her legs underneath her, and Teddy felt her movements in his stomach and groin.”

I’ve written a few scenes that are supposed to inspire the same feelings in my characters and in my readers; an awkwardness around sexuality. When I read the above passage I thought that Lehane had accomplished what I tried to do to a far greater degree.

And, as Shatter Island is a horror, I thought the best passage in terms of setting the dark theme was the following:

“Her lips were slick with blood and spittle as she shrieked at him, shrieked like she’d seen all the century’s dead climb through her window and walk toward her bunk.”

The snippet I read in the newsletter was right, reading Shatter Island is like walking up a creaky, old, twisting staircase, and the ending is well worth the climb. Secondly, I no longer feel like I need to see the movie. Lehane does such a good job of creating mood, describing setting, and making his story and characters believable, that I feel as though I’ve already seen the movie.

Book Review – Over My Dead Body

Last week I finished Over My Dead Body by Nero Wolfe. At first I found myself in a deep funk, depressed by the similarities I found between Nero Wolfe's writing and that of one of my favorite authors, Lawrence Sanders. My depression turned to anger as I saw how closely so many of the similarities became. Flamboyant and smart main characters both with the name Archie, serious mysteries that are written with a fun loving (and more importantly, word loving) veil, and so many other facets. But, as I let the story sink in, I realized that Sander's might not have been copying Wolfe and his style so much as he may have been paying homage. Like a cover band that plays some of your favorite tunes, Steve Acho come to mind, but plays them as well or better than the originals.

Over My Dead Body is the first Nero Wolfe book I've ever read and I can guarantee you that it won't be my last. I was sad to learn of the passing of Sander if only cause I loved his writing so much. Any author who can have his character say "needless to say my flabber was gasted" while wearing a puce riding hat, has my esteem and interest. Wolfe does the same but with a slightly more serious tone.

Like Sanders, Wolfe enjoys talking about the food that surrounds his characters and ensures that they occupy a station in life that provides them with the best possible delicacies. I'm impressed with the proclivities with which he imbues his detective. His constant beer drinking, his never leaving the apartment to solve murders, his attention to detail and schedules. For some reason I found myself envisioning Wolfe in the form of Mr. Millet, my high school chemistry teacher.

As a huge fan of analogies, metaphors and similies, I found all of the following particularly fun.

The murder in the story takes place in a fencing gym, I thought the way he used lunge was apropos: "But he clipped off words and lunged with them . . ."

I love the way Archie describes this man and his suit, sums up perfectly the type of man Archie thinks he is, "He was about my age and size with a good pair of light-colored eyes, and a gray suit of a distinctive weave hung on him in a way that made it obvious that fit had not been managed by waving a piece of chalk at a stock job."

At one point Archie was asked by a lawyer to sign a statement. He did, with a nomme de plume, and left this post script. "I am writing to stipulate that a lawyer has a right to live, and I'm aware that even when he's dead no worm will enter his coffin because if it did, he'd make it sign some kind of paper."

Fabulous image in this one, "Twenty men went through that joint like molasses through cheese cloth."

It took me a second to figure out what he meant here, but when I did, I laughed, "I felt a lot like a hard morning at the alphabet piano, no I didn't."

The final confrontation leads with this image of Archie trying to catch the murderer, literally, "I gave it all I had then, but I couldn't catch lightning."

Secondly, I enjoyed the book for the abundance of interesting, and in some cases completely unknown words:

Persiflage - frivolous bantering talk : light raillery

Obloquy - a strongly condemnatory utterance : abusive language

Prate - to talk long and idly : chatter

Eructed - belch

Salver - a tray especially for serving food or beverages

Blatherskite - 1 : a person who blathers a lot 2 : nonsense, blather

In short, I loved the book, and I look forward to the next Nero Wolfe mystery I get to read.

 

How I Write: Secrets of a Bestselling Author

As a part of my “Books on Craft” campaign, a resolution I am keeping for 2010 and beyond to read one book on writing for every two I might read for fun, I read Janet Evanovich’s How I Write: Secrets of a Bestselling Author.

Sadly, this book was not quite as insiteful as Maass’ Writing the Breakout Novel, but I did get a snippet or two of advice. This book is really a compilation of dozens, perhaps hundreds of questions that Evanovich has gotten over the years from her fans. It’s even very lightly edited such that it looks like a Q & A article out of a writing magazine.

As I said, I didn’t get much out of it and the fact that she illustrated many of the techniques she discussed using excerpts from her books rather bothered me. What did I get out it? I found out that prior to Evanovich becoming even moderately popular, she was a romance writer for many years. Then, it took her ten years just to get that first book off the ground! Ten years! Here I am complaining about 1 year. I’ve set a new deadline for myself, it’s 10 years. It’s similar to the goals I used to make on significantly long road marches in the army. Whenever road marches got hard I looked ahead at the Rangers in front of me and decided that if they could make it to that point where I saw them, then so could I. When I got to that point . . . I looked up and made it to the next point. So in that spirit . . .I’m looking ahead to Evanovich. If she can have the determination to out last 10 years, then so can I.

Of course, I neglected to write that the goal setting method I used in the Ranger’s only worked when you weren’t leading the way. But in this case, I’m not, so it should work for me.

Book Review: Rusty Nail

Finished reading the third J.A. Konrath book Rusty Nail. Actually, Rusty Nail is both the third J.A. Konrath in his Jack Daniel's series, and the third that I've read. Like most other series, I'm reading this a bit out of order, it just happens that I read the third book in the series third. So far I've read the fifth, first; the first, second and now the third, third.

It's an interesting series. Konrath's main advice to new authors (through his blog A Newbies Guide to Publishing) is to always have conflict. Every page, every paragraph, every sentence should be brimming over with conflict. If not, get rid of that sentence, paragraph or page. He follows his own advice. His stories are big on conflict. They are also some of the most disturbing stories ever. Think Silence of the Lambs meets Stephanie Plum. One of the villains in this story is heavy into masochism, and at one point the reader is treated to the disgusting act of the primary villain flaying a victim alive.

When I was a teenager I had a book called "How to Draw Comics the Marvel Way." In this book on comic drawing, Stan Lee wrote something about how artists should let their minds go wild when they create villains. Go look at the villains in a comic book; huge heads, swords for hands, skulls instead of faces. Konrath took Stan Lee's advice and ran with it. His villains have to be the creepiest in the business.

Despite the fact that his stories, spilling over with conflict, have little room for deep character development, they do have flashes of well written passages and metaphor. One that I marked made me take notice, the kicker is the last line.

"I had no doubts Bud Kork was insane. But there was more to it than that. Sitting this close to him, I felt a deep sense of revulsion- the same kind of feeling I had when I watched a nature program on TV that showed a spider catching a fly. Bud Kork radiated a very real feeling of harm, of fear and decay and death. Talking to him made me want to take a hot shower and brush my teeth until my gums hurt."

Sadly, I bought this book at the Half Price Book Store and did not read it on Kindle, therefore I made few notes. One thing I've found I enjoy about the Kindle is it's ability to store and keep my notes. It's a habit I enjoy and one I have never developed in conventional book reading. Nevertheless, Rusty Nail was as good as Whiskey Sour and Fuzzy Navel, and in terms of the villainy, much better. Stan Lee would be proud....disgusted but proud.

Book Review: Catch-22 - Who Knew a Word Like Infundibuliform Even Existed?

Finished Catch-22 last week. If you read this blog you knew I was reading it based on this post about déjà vu. Also if you read this blog you’ll know that my book reviews aren’t book reviews per se where I recommend reading or not reading the book, or discuss it’s strengths and weakness. I might do that, but in general, my aim is to pick out the words, phrases and passages that catch my eye and mark them down so I can better remember them. That being said; Catch-22 is a terrific book to read in terms of vocabulary. The below are just a small sampling:

Infundibuliform - shaped like a funnel

Denudate – to lay bare by erosion

Otiose- producing no useful result; futile

Argosies - a fleet of ships; a rich supply

Fustian - a strong cotton and linen fabric; a class of cotton fabrics usually having a pile face and twill weave; high-flown or affected writing or speech; broadly; anything high-flown or affected in style

Callipygous- having shapely buttocks

And, perhaps the most apropos word in Catch-22 as it so elegantly states the Yosarian’s nature in one word:

Captious- marked by an often ill-natured inclination to stress faults and raise objections ;calculated to confuse, entrap, or entangle in argument

As I said in my previous post, I remembered many of the lines and the same is true of the vocabulary words. I recall asking my grandfather about the word fustian. He didn’t know the definition. I believe he made me go look it up.

I also remember several passages, including this one about one of my favorite characters, Major Major Major Major:
“Major Major had been born too late and too mediocre. Some men are born mediocre, some men achieved mediocrity, and some men have mediocrity thrust upon them. With Major Major it had been all three. Even among men lacking all distinction he inevitably stood out as a man lacking more distinction than all the rest, and people who met him were always impressed by how unimpressive he was.”

When describing Doc Daneeka, Heller writes:
“He was like a man who had grown frozen with horror once and had never come completely unthawed”

My question, shouldn’t it be “thawed?” I mean unthawed is frozen, right? You thaw a steak to make it not frozen?

Finally, a rather significant scene occurs when a naked Yossarian is sitting up in a tree watching Snowden’s funeral. Milo comes to hang out with him and the following passage appears:
“Milo was stung and made no effort to disguise his wounded feelings. It was a muggy, moonlit night filled with gnats, moths, and mosquitos. Milo lifted his arm suddenly and pointed toward the open-air theater, where the milky dust-filled beam bursting horizontally from the projector slashed a conelike swath in the blackness and draped in a fluorescent membrane of light the audience titled on the seats in hypnotic sages, their faces focused upward toward the aluminized move screen. Milio’s eyes were liquid with integrity, and his artless uncorrupted face was lustrous with a shining mixture of sweat and insect repellant.”

I liked it for those final two words. Writing “insect repellant” seems to thrown the whole passage off kilter. Makes the reader wonder why it was used at all.

“The floor swayed like the floating raft at the beach and the stitches on the inside of his thigh bit into his flesh like fine set of fish teeth as he limped across the aisle.”

Great simile that…..like fine set of fish teeth. Perfectly describes stitches.

The final passage was used when Yossarian had to deal with a new group of young roommates.
“He could not make the shut up; they were worse then women, they had not brains enough to be introverted and repressed.”

What I find the most interesting part about this book, and other Heller books is the way in which the ending is revealed at the beginning of the book. For the entire book the reader knows that Yossarian is struggling with Snowden’s death. The reader even knows how and when it happened. The final reveal is minor but significant in putting the entire puzzle together. It’s similar to most of Heller’s other books I feel, particularly “Something Happened.” But, it has helped me. I’ve been having trouble dealing with a similar aspect in my own manuscrip, On Edge. Perhaps I should take a cue from Heller. Instead of hiding it from the reader, just let them know a good part of it right up front, let a detail or two fall throughout the story, then reveal the entirety at the end.

Nevertheless, fun to read if you like long, run on sentences, confusing arguments, and words like callipygous.

Book Review - Longshot - Is Meekness Even Minorly Heroic?

I just finished reading Longshot by Dick Francis. I was particularly engaged by this book in that I thought I had read all of Dick Francis' books. Longshot was new to me. Or I read it so long ago I've completely forgotten it.

Two passages stuck out.

The first is at the very end of the book. The hero is a travel adventure writer and the killer is using the hero's manuals on shooting game and survival against him. By the end of the book, when the hero is about to reveal who the killer is, the killer commits suicide and tries to make it look like an accident.

"A copy of Return Safe from the Wilderness lay on a workbench, and I picked it up idly and looked through it. Traps. Bows and arrows. All the familiar ideas. I flipped the pages resignedly and they fell open as if from use at the diagram in the first-aid section showing the pressure points for stopping arterial bleeding. I stared blankly at the carefully drawn and accurate illustration of exactly where the main arteries could be found nearest the surface in the arms and wrists...and in the legs.
Dear God, I thought numbly. I taught him that too."

I thought this was excellent if only for the O-Henry-esque ending. Loved it. Saw it coming just a bit, but not so much that it wasn't fun to read.

The second passage occurs early in the book.

"The letter from Ronnie Curzon came on a particularly cold morning when there was ice like a half-descended curtain over the inside of my friend's aunt's attic window. The window, with its high view over the Thames at Chiswick, over the ebb-tide mud and the wind-sailing sea gulls, that window, my delight had done most, I reckoned, to release invention into words. I'd rigged a chair onto a platform so that I could sit there to write with a long view to the tree-chopped horizon over Kew Gardens. I'd never yet managed an even passable sentence when faced with a blank wall."

Finally, the title of this post alludes to an aspect of this book juxtaposed against my own endeavor. My editor revealed to me that he has never read a Dick Francis book. I was impressed when upon receipt of my manuscript he went out and borrowed one from the library, ostensibly to read. I say ostensibly because I found out later that he did not actually read it.

Throughout the manuscript he has written "your hero is too meek, not showing even minor heroic qualities" or words to that effect. In Longshot, as in most of Dick Francis' books, the hero is meek. Strikingly meek. These two things, reading Longshot, reviewing my edited manuscript, brought this into focus. Is it bad to have a meek hero? Can't he act as a foil, as so many of Francis' heroes do, to all of the characters that interact around and with him? A sponge? An everyman who plays off others and travels through his story reacting instead of acting?

At the very least I can be thankful that according to Matthew writing about Jesus in the Beatitudes, my hero is blessed and will inherit the earth.

Book Review - Under the Andes

I finished reading Under the Andes by Rex Stout. I won’t say that reading it was a complete waste of time, but it came pretty close.

I remember as a child, 1st grader I believe, I wrote a story about a boy who gets lost in a cave. The typical 1st grader pabulum. The kiddo in the story keeps referring to time in strange ways, ie. “it was one noon.” For some reason I thought that “noon” and “o’clock” were interchangeable. The plot was simplistic and plodding. The cave went on and on and never seemed to end. Then, BOOM, the kid finds the way out and the story is over.

Most of the above paragraph about my own story, would fit Under the Andes perfectly.

The only redeeming qualities of the book are that I downloaded it for free onto my Kindle. Apparently even the author knows it’s no good. Secondly, it provides a fun glimpse into the types of stories that must have been the foundation for action heroes of 1930’s film serials. The whole time I read it I couldn’t not think about Indiana Jones and Doc Savage.

Sadly, after the hero’s eighteenth chase through a darkened cave by crazed Incans, even the image of Indiana Jones would be tarnished. Unless you have a lot of time to kill, and don’t mind getting nothing in return for your investment, avoid Under the Andes at all costs. Thank goodness the Nero Wolfe books on the Kindle are $2.99. Seems to suggest they’ll be more worthwhile reads.

Book Review: Rain Fall

I just finished reading Rain Fall by Barry Eisler. Liked it. Had a real good plot, great characters, and it took place in the Far East, a locale I've always wanted to visit. Seemed like a bit of Clancy's Without Remorse, mixed with Shogun. Been a while since I've been pleasantly surprised by a book, this one succeeded.

This is Eisler's first book, of eight that he has published. Throughout the first half I kept thinking, as I do in many first timer's books, "heck, mine's as good as this." Couldn't say it about the second half. Eisler's third and fourth quarters were great and kept me turning the pages,...or kept me clicking the advanced button on the Kindle.

A couple of lines struck me,
The hero, John Rain (note the title), is remembering his time in the war and his friends that he lost,
"Memories, crowding me like a battalion of suddenly reanimated corpses."
Makes me think of zombies, so naturally I bookmarked it.

Rain is checking out the love interest, Midori:
"I was struck by her eyes. Unreadable, even looking right at me, but not distant, and not cold. Instead the seemed to radiate a controlled heat, something that touched you but that you couldn't touch back."

This was the opening of a chapter that I thought was well done:
"At first light the whole of Shibuya feels like a giant sleeping off a hangover. You can still sense the merriment, the heedless laughter of the night before, you can hear it echoed in the strange silences and deserted spaces of the area's twisting backstreets. The drunken voices of karaoke revelers, the unctuous pitches of the club touts, the secret whispers of lovers walking arm in arm, all are departed, but somehow, for just a few evanescent hours in the quiet of early morning, their shadows linger, like ghosts who refuse to believe that the night has ended, that there are no more parties to attend."

Another similar to the one above, this time middle of the chapter:
"There was nowhere, nowhere on the whole planet, that I would rather have been right then. The city around us was a living thing: the million lighters where its eyes; the laughter of lovers its voice; the expressways and factories its muscles and sinews. And I was there at its pulsing heart."

All told, a very good book and I look forward to reading number 2 from Eisler.

Book Review: On Writing - Not Quite What I Expected

People have been telling me for years that I should read On Writing by Stephen King. I wish they hadn’t played it up so much.

I grew up a huge King fan. When I spent summers with my grandfather at his bed and breakfast, he introduced me to Stephen King. We would run into the small town of Brenham, from the even smaller town of Chappell Hill where the bed and breakfast was located, in order to buy books from the little paperback book resale shop. The shop had a fairly poor selection, but barring an hour-long ride into Houston, it was the best there was. It was from here that I bought my first King book.

Christine was the first book of King’s that I read, then Carrie and onward from there.I read The Stand and loved every page. I read Tommyknockers and thought it was great. I read Salem’s Lot in typing class at school and got so scared I jumped when someone interrupted me. I haven’t read anything since I gave up on Gerald’s Game until On Writing.

It’s a decent book on craft. I loved King’s description of writer’s needing a tool chest. He did a magnificent job of imparting that to the reader. I enjoyed reading about how he writes, and what was going on in his life through the writing of each book. I had no idea that Misery was such an impactful book in his life. Also, although I read about his being hit by a car while walking, this book details just how horrific the crash was and how much it affected him.

I noted a few passages that caught my eye.

On character, plot and setting, King says:
“The most important (thing I learned) is that the writer’s original perception of a character or characters may be as erroneous as the reader’s. Running a close second was the realization that stopping a piece of work just because it’s hard, either emotionally or imaginatively, is a bad idea. Sometimes you have to go on when you don’t feel like it, and sometimes you’re doing good work when it feels like all you’re managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position.”

And then this as well, on character:
“The situation comes first. The characters – always flat and unfeatured, to begin with – come next. Once these things are fixed in my mind, I begin to narrate. I often have an idea of what the outcome may be, but I have never demanded of a set of characters that they do things my way. On the contrary, I want them to do things their way.”

I resisted the urge to let other people read my work much. Following this book, I am changing that decision, ergo I need to find some “trusted readers.”
“Subjective evaluations are, as I say, a little harder to deal with, but listen: if everyone who reads your book says you have a problem, you’ve got a problem and you better do something about it.”

Finally, on back story and how much background to provide the reader, King says:
“I like to start at square one, dead even with the writer. I’m an A-to-Z man; serve me the appetizer first and give me dessert if I eat my veggies.”

All in all, it was fun to read Stephen King’s book On Writing. He has a tremendous voice, and even though this was non-fiction, it was fun to relive some of the books I read in my youth. It was great to read about his connection with his wife and the methods he uses to write. As a book on craft though….I’ve read better. Still doesn’t beat Maass’ book on Writing the Breakout Novel.

Book Review: The Last Song - Go Ahead and Proceed with the Mocking

So, I'm trying to broaden my reading horizons. I met a guy at the last writer's conference who liked to compare himself to Nicholas Sparks. Intrigued, I went to Amazon and started searching for one of his books. I landed on The Last Song. It was better than I expected.

It was a bit simple, the themes, which were easy to spot, were engaging and added a lot to a what otherwise would have been a fairly shallow story. The characters were somewhat flat, but Sparks never gave up on them and so the reader keeps reading about them. And despite the fact that it is predictable, it was fun to read. I look forward to reading another if only to see if this one was simple cause it was aimed at teenage girls, or if all of Spark's books are so easy.

Couple of things caught my eye:
The father, describing himself says: "Though he had certain talents as a mucisian and composer, he laced the charisma or showmanship or whatever it was that made a performer stand out. At times, even he admitted that he'd been more an observer of the world than a participant in it, and in moments of painful honesty, he sometimes believed he was a failure in all that was important."

I liked the way he says "more an observer than a participant."

The same character, a pianist, describing his regrets again: "He wondered when he would have an opportunity to play again. He now regretted not making the acquaintance of others in town; there had been moments since he'd boarded up the piano when he fantasized about approaching a friend with the request to play the seldom used piano in his living room, the one his imaginary friend regarded as decoration. He could see himself taking a seat on the dusty bench as his friend watched from the kitchen or foyer - he was quite sure on this - and all at once, he would begin to play something that would move his friend to tears, something he'd been unable to accomplish during all those long months on tour."

When Steve is dying, and his daughter is ministering to him, she watches him waste away: "He didn't answer, only held his breath, waiting for the pain to pass. When it did, he seemed suddenly weaker, as if it had sheared away a sliver of the little life he had left."

Then, these two simple metaphors were fun in context:
"At his answer, she felt something shake loose inside, like the first pebbles skittering downhill before an avalanche."

"It was one of those gorgeous evenings typical of the Carolinas - a soft breeze, the sky a quilt of a thousand different colors. . ."

So? Not bad all in all. Engaging but simple. Easy and simple. I'll try another Sparks, but probably not too soon.