Book Review: The Quiet Game

Greg Iles is a terrific writer. The Quiet Game (see here) was to the point, engaging and I great introduction to his writing and his books. It makes me want to go read more. Very similar to reading John Grisham, it was intriguing to see how Iles described Natchez (which is a city I've never visited) and the race relations that plague the South in general. There were a few B.S. moments where as I read I thought to myself "that would never happen" or "that's B.S." but what books don't have those moments.

As a writer and novelist myself it was fun to see a polished and well regarded writer struggling with many of the same problems I find myself dealing with. But as a reader I enjoyed The Quiet Game immensely and can't wait to read his next novel.

I like to list the first line of the novel's I read, particularly for my blog puborperish.blogspot.com and found this one to be intriguing:

I am standing in line for Walt Disney’s It’s a Small World ride, holding my four-year-old daughter in my arms, trying to entertain her as the serpentine line of parents and children moves slowly toward the flat-bottomed boats emerging from the grotto to the music of an endless audio loop. Suddenly Annie jerks taut in my arms and points into the crowd. 

“Daddy! I saw Mama! Hurry!” 

I do not look. I don’t ask where. I don’t because Annie’s mother died seven months ago.

Iles, Greg - The Quiet Game

Overall, one of the better books I've read this year and I look forward to adding Greg Iles to my ever growing list of favorite authors to read.

What Breaks Your Heart?

Today at church I had a stellar idea for a novel, or for at least a start of my next novel. I've been playing with an idea of having a mystery where the protagonist is a grown up Anthony, our former foster kiddo. Right now I've been writing a silly little romance cum literary fiction novel, but it kinda has nowhere to go. I'm waiting for my novel Vapor Trail to come back from editing, I'm uninspired to write the children's book on Rangers, so I'm sort of casting around for a new project. This one about Anthony might have just found a place in my schedule.

"What breaks your heart?"

I see the novel starting with that.

Anthony would be the protagonist. The idea came to me when I considered Anthony's future. I was in a morose state, have been for a while now. 2015 took alot out of me. For more on that see my other post (here). Nonetheless I was thinking about Anthony and his future. He will be in long term foster care for the rest of his life if he is lucky. He might go to be a foster or adoptive kid in an Indian tribe, but that doesn't look likely. He might go back to his no count parents, but again, not likely. He's going to have a rough life.

At first I thought it would be a great genisis story for a villain, but then I gave it another thought. What if he overcomes all of the hurdles that will be thrust on him and is successful. It was a complete change in perspective for me. In my mind he would be a mystery solving protagonist who has no sympathy for the antagonists he faces since his own background was so tough.

It's already inspired me to get started on it. Just hat first line is sometimes enough to get things going in the right direction.

Bad Year Means Good Writing?

I was talking to my mom the other day about this past year and how rotten it has been. I went over some of this in my blog post the other day about my father's death (here). But my father's sudden passing is only one of the many things that 2015 brought and I'm happy to see in the rear view mirror.

Back in May my best friend, Killian died. It went about as well as those things can. I wrote about it (here). It was if not a defining moment, then a moment in my life I'll remember forever. He was a good old dog and a great family friend.

In June I laid off my entire department. My department here at work went from a department of five to a department of one. Over and above the increased work load, it was a tough week to suffer through if only because it was hard to say goodbye to so many people who I had come to depend on and trust. It was purely business, but still, that was a tough week with a lot of tough calls.

In July my grandmother, Muzzie, died. I've mentioned Muzzie several times in this blog, (see here) but I don't know if I ever mentioned that one of the last few times I saw her, in the nursing home, she was sitting up in bed reading my book, Toe the Line (here). She told me that she was loving it. She intonated that it was the first time she had read it when I knew that it was actually the fourth or fifth time. But isn't that what I as an author should want? Shouldn't I want my readers to feel like my writing is new and fresh each time they read it.

In September our foster son Anthony left. It was the second time he had been with our family and it just wasn't working out. So we had to have him leave. Stunningly hard. I'm sure it will come up in my future writing.

Now this with the Pops.

There were more things going on, the detritus of life, the odds and ends of writing and living, some big, some huge, some just the details. But what's the point of all this 2015 reflection? Pity? Hardly! I remember when I first started writing I read that great artists must suffer in life and for their heart. I remember writing about it though I can't find it now. I thought it was silly and for the most part still do. But boy does 2015 show me that a bit of suffer adds a ton to the options of what to write about it.

I wrote it up there about Anthony. "I'm sure it will come in up in my future writing." Muzzie will too. My father's death as well. It is not just subject matter it is also experience and adds depth.

Though as much as I thank 2015 for the help in my writing (hopefully), I'm looking forward to 2016 just cause 2015 sucked so much.

Surprised by Angelou

I ran across a quote from Maya Angelou the other day that made me think it would be a perfect theme for that book that I'm planning to write about friendship. It feels like a theme that would be worth exploring.

“Never make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option.”

First, I was surprised this was a quote by Maya Angelou, then I did some more research and BOOM! Imagine my surprise when I saw all of the quotes, most of which I had never read, that were attributed to her. For a list, see (here).

There are some good ones on that list. I love the one about creativity. If I was writing a post about why I restarted writing this blog I'd probably list that quote about creativity as an underlying reason. But it's that one about making someone a priority that resonates. I can just imagine one character making the other a "priority" while he remains nothing more than an "option" to the other. This would generate beaucoup tension.

The Rest is Even Better Than the First

Another in my long running series on first lines (see here).

This one, the most recent, compliments of Lee Child and his thirteenth Reacher novel, is pretty gripping as far as first lines are concerned.

Suicide bombers are easy to spot. They give out all kinds of telltale signs. Mostly because they’re nervous. By definition they’re all first-timers.

Child, Lee - Gone Tomorrow

Who wouldn't want to know why Reacher is thinking about suicide bombers? Who wouldn't want to know what the signs are that lead him to spot one. Plus it has that bit of cryptic, dry humor that immediately puts the reader into the mind of the main character.

Gripping? Sure. Apropos description if you ask me. Best part about this first line? It presages a novel that is just as gripping and hosts just as much dry, crypticism and compelling interesting twists and turns.

Another Morning, this Time from Felix

I just finished Crossfire by Felix Francis and it wasn't too bad. Not as good as Dick Francis, but a solid try. 

All that being said, Felix is a typical writer in that he too falls for descriptions of the morning. Anyone who reads this blog should know by now that finding morning descriptions are a particular fondness of mine (see here). Felix provides his own offering below.

The sky was lightening in the east with a lovely display of blues, purples and reds. In spite of being completely at home in the dark, I had always loved the coming of the dawn, the start of a new day. 

The arrival of the sun, bringing light and warmth and driving away the cold and darkness of the night, was like a piece of daily magic, revered and worshipped by man and beast alike. How does it happen? And why? Let us just be thankful that it did. If the sun went out, we would all be in the poop, and no mistake. 

The rim of the fiery ball popped up over the horizon and flooded the hillside with an orange glow, banishing the gloom from beneath the bushes.

Francis, Dick; Francis, Felix - Crossfire

A little more than is common from what I find in other works, still just as prototypical. I'll probably keep reading Felix's stuff, even though I think "fiery ball" is a tad trite.

On the TBR List

Yep, I'm adding The Centurions by Jean Larteguty to my To Be Read list (see here).

For just a moment I thought I was going to read about Devil's Guard (no, not The Devil's Brigade, but the book about the SS officers who run off to join the French Foreign Legion) when I began reading this WSJ article by James D. Hornfischer.

The anguish of the U.S. experience in Vietnam reverberates in some of our best fiction, from Philip Caputo’s “Indian Country” (1987) and Tim O’Brien’s “The Things They Carried” (1990) to Karl Marlantes’s “Matterhorn” (2009). But in literature, as in the war itself, the French got there first.

Now, I'd rather not get into my disdain for The Things They Carried, which I belive too many people like for the wrong reasons, but anyone who has read the out of print Devil's Guard can clearly see why I would have thought that's where the article was going. But No! Now I have a new book to read.

Devil's Guard was Holy Writ in our Ranger Platoon. We bought a copy for three hundred dollars back in 1996 and carried it around in a plastic bag from deployment to deployment and forced the new privates to read it and quote from it. Still, The Centurions sounds like a good companion as well, although it sounds like reading it might be a hard slog.

Though it has been heralded as the first novel to feature a “ticking time bomb” storyline, “The Centurions” was not built to satisfy readers looking for crisp plotting, suspense and action. With its extended speechifying, incomplete character arcs, female love interests cut from wet cardboard, and company of minor characters who march to little effect, Lartéguy’s work is more symposium than thriller. When the Frenchmen aren’t holding forth on the sweep of history and the hinge of fate, they are writing long diary entries summing up many things that the reader already knows. Some of the monologues run for pages at a time. But the depth of the principals and the author’s sure sense of their complex torment bring the soldiers’ world vibrantly to life.

I don't know, after reading about "wet cardboard" love interests and "writing long diary entries" perhaps I'd be better off just reading my copy of Devil's Guard again.

Who Hasn't Started a Book with "Medic! Medic!"

Anyone who reads this blog knows that I love writing about and logging my first lines and paragraphs from books that I read. My most recent one is this one:

Medic! Medic!” 

I could see that my platoon sergeant was shouting, but strangely, the sound of his voice seemed muffled, as if I was in a neighboring room rather than out here in the open. 

I was lying on the dusty ground with my back up against a low bank so that I was actually half sitting. Sergeant O’Leary was kneeling beside me on my left.

Francis, Dick; Francis, Felix - Crossfire

It's not a bad start. And of course as anyone can guess the main character is the one who is severely hurt.

I've never read a Felix Francis book. I love his pop Dick, but Felix is new to me. So far, a few pages in, I'm quite happy with it. I'm looking forward to more. I'm seeing the difference. Dick Francis has a bit more sophistication to his writing, whereas Felix sounds like he's just trying to get the story out. But, it's not a bad book thus far.

AVOID this Book at all Costs

Don't you hate when you're favorite authors fail to live up to expectations. Some do it over and over. They have a best seller out of the gate, then each book after is just mediocre. They never live up to that first. Others, have a slew of good to great then BOOM! you read one and it's rubbish.

The second one happened to me a few months back when I tried to read the new Vernor Vinge novel, The Children of the Sky (see here). I even gave him the benefit of the doubt and went a few chapters further than I would have. No dice. Horrid. Gave up. (Might try again though).

Just happened again with Lawrence Sanders.

I love Lawrence Sanders work, if you want the proof, just note the number of times he mentioned in this blog (see here). I love his works. Love em. Lately I've loved his 1970's stuff. Caper (see here) . . . left me wishing I'd never heard of him.

BLECH

It started well, and for the first half it was a typical Lawrence Sanders. Great descriptions of the city, terrific analogies, sparkling writing. But then it turned jejune. It started to read more like a biography rather than novel, and worse it was a boring biography about a road trip. I wanted to give up on it but hung in there. Next time I will got with my initial reaction.

May not have ruined me for Sanders' novels, may not have even ruined me for his early work . . . but it sure ruined my week.

Cathartic Writing

Something happened in the past few weeks which although outwardly isn't of great significance in my life, it has huge significance emotionally and internally. It has made me turn back to my writing. Sorry I've been away so long, but I'm back now. How long? Who knows . . . but for now I need to write.

That's what struggles do for me . . . they make me return to my writing. Right now I'm finishing up my third novel, the third draft, and completing the rough draft of what I feel might be my best novel yet. Strangely, this novel that I'm writing is far afield from what I've commonly written.

This novel that I'm presently writing is a story of a musician in New York and the problems he has in his love life and the love life's of those around him. Far far different than the two murder mysteries (here and here) and a third to come presently.

That being said I think it's incredibly fun to try new genre's. I've written and published those two mysteries, I have a rough draft of a techno-thriller, several miltiary thriller short stories that draw on my experiences in the Army, and now a romance cum literary fiction novel in the works. I know Kristi, struggles with genre alot. I love the experimentation and the ability to try whatever I want whenever I want. Doesn't have to be successful, just has to be something that helps me.

Keeping everything I've written above in mind, there is one word missing in that word map image above: cathartic. Now more than ever writing has become a cathartic experience for me. No longer is it a means to an end, it's an end in an of itself. It is what I turn to when I have struggles and need peace of mind.

Gotta love that it's always there when you need it.