This First Line Gets a Big Fat "Meh"

Not an idicator of the roller coaster that is the rest of the book, Barry Eisler's The God's Eye View (here) starts off with a whimper by discussing an old man dreaming of fishing waking up to his secure phone.

General Theodore Anders was dreaming of marlin fishing when the secure phone rang on the bed stand next to him. He sat up immediately, concerned but not unduly so. He’d been awakened plenty of times over the course of his career, and by much worse than a telephone. 

He blinked and reflexively scanned the room by the dim light of the bedside digital alarm clock. His wife, Debbie, continued snoring softly beside him. She’d learned to tune out NSA’s intrusions almost immediately after he’d been appointed director. If it were an internal problem, he wouldn’t be able to tell her. If the problem were external, she’d see it on the news soon enough. Either way, she didn’t want to know, or at least not before she had to. She was a good woman. 

He cleared his throat and picked up the handset before the unit could ring a second time. In the army, he’d learned to impress his superiors with an image of constant readiness. The habit had stayed with him long since his superiors had become his subordinates.

Eisler, Barry - The God's Eye View

Don't be fooled though or put off. Well worth the time to read the rest of the lines, even if the first aint that great.

Am I Really Going to Read a Cat Mystery?

Upon just reading the title I poo-pooed it immediately (see here). The article is In the World of Cat Fiction, Fur Flies Over Whether Stars Get Speaking Roles Cat Mystery! by Jennifer Maloney and at first I thought Pshaw! How silly. But then I read this:

Ms. Murphy’s talking Joe Grey leaves evidence in squad cars. He also has the police chief on speed dial. In Ms. Fry’s series, a thieving tomcat named Rags silently collects business cards, photographs and a pouch of diamonds—clues to murders, kidnappings and a jewelry heist.

Now I'm intrigued! It sounds like fun to build a mystery with a non-talking protagonist. 

For a long while I had an idea for a mystery that included a young kiddo and an old guy shut in. He would sit in his wheelchair at home and hear the mystery from the young kids perspective. Hearing about this about cats solving mysteries makes me wonder if I didn't take it far enough. Maybe the wheelchair bound sleuth should be a victim of stroke and although he retains all the faculties of his mind he can't relate them to anyone easily.

Sadly, as all this was swirling around in my head I read this:

Once, during a mystery conference panel, “I got up there and said, ‘Cats that speak, they’re an abomination.’ ” Then she turned tail and wrote a book about a talking ghost cat.

After reading that, I'm beginning to think these folks are just a bunch of wackos.

I went to a writing class/editing class for one of my first novels. Surreal doesn't begin to describe the experience. It was in an old dilapidated home in the middle of nowhere. When I went in I met the editor. He was a huge, seventy year old man, obese really, and he waddled around his home, barefoot, in a pair of ratty old boxer shorts and a grey wife beater t-shirt throughout the entire time I was there. I was immediately mad at myself for buying five sessions up front.

I would have thought this was some sort of strange "come on" except there were three of us there and the other two writers found nothing strange about this attire from their mentor. We all sat down, and were offered "Lean Cuisines" by the editor (I have no idea why) and started reviewing our writing. One writer there, who was quite proud of his work and went first, was writing about a mystery/thriller about a missing girl from the point of view of the blood hound who was tracking her.

I have read Watership Down and many other books of fantasy and sci-fi were there is something other than a human providing the context and being the main character. I have to tell you, it takes a lot more talent than I thought to pull it off and be taken seriously. Sadly, my writing partner did not have that talent. Secondly, the boxer shorted editor did not have the talent to help him either.

Meeting this editor, sitting around that kitchen table with the flap of his boxers falling open at inopportune times, the dusky, dirty bare feet and the Lean Cuisines, and the book about the kidnapping being told from the POV of Hank the Bloodhound, I'm surprised I stayed with this witting thing.

Still there is obviously a market out there for this kind of thing, so who knows. I plan on looking to see if there is a free one on the Kindle just so I can get some idea of what a cat might say.

First Novel but NOT the Last (I hope)

I’m going to adding Matthew FitzSimmons to my list. What list? The list that includes Dick Francis, Lawrence Sanders, Frederick Forsythe and just a few others. My list of favorite authors for thrillers. This book I just finished by FitzSimmons was well worth the read and well worth looking for and waiting for a next one.

The characters in The Short Drop (here), were fun to read about. The story was twisty and turney and fun and thrilling . . . just what you want from a thriller. Had me guessing quite a bit (and actually, due to one or two holes still in the story, I’m still guessing), and it was fun to read from the beginning.

I even liked the last line! And that's a rarity (see here)

Out in the dark, he heard the creak and slam of a screen door.

FitzSimmons, Matthew -  The Short Drop

Just like with my books I like the idea of educating readers into facets of life that they may not know much about. In my case I chose adventure racing (On the Edge - here) and triathlons (Toe the Line - here). Dick Francis of course uses horse racing. I liked finding out about computer hacking. It wasn’t too heavy on the technical language, and FitzSimmons didn’t get too wrapped up into the nuance. Instead he used it to move the story along.

If I have one critique of this story it would be the end. It came quite abruptly. But what can I say . . . a reviewer has said the same thing about my own book (see here). I have decided to take that critique as a compliment. It wasn’t that the reader was upset by the abrupt ending, they were upset by the end itself. They wanted my story to keep going on and on and on. That’s how I felt about this book. 

Another First Line

I have a running list of first lines that I come across (see here). Some are labeled as "good first lines" (see here) other's get the label "bad" (see here). This list came about because of the heavy emphasis that publishers and readers place on first lines. As an aside . . . I also was compiling a list of "last lines" (see here), but the value of that list petered out due to just how rotten so many last lines are, so I kinda stopped that list a while back.

Today's first line comes from a novel called The Short Drop by Matthew FitzSimmons (see here).

Gibson Vaughn sat alone at the bustling counter of the Nighthawk Diner. The breakfast rush was in full swing as customers milled about, waiting for a seat. Gibson barely registered the crescendo of knives and forks on plates or the waitress who set his food down. His eyes were fixed on the television mounted behind the counter. The news was playing the video again. It was ubiquitous, part of the American zeitgeist— dissected and analyzed over the years, referenced in film, television shows, and songs. Like most Americans, Gibson had seen it countless times, and like most Americans he couldn’t look away no matter how often it aired. How could he? It was all he had left of Suzanne. 

The beginning of the video was grainy and washed out. The picture stuttered and frames dropped; distorted lines rolled up the screen like waves pounding an undiscovered shore. By-products of the store manager having recorded over the same videotape again and again and again. 

Shot down at an angle from behind the cash register, the footage showed the interior of the infamous service station in Breezewood, Pennsylvania. The power of the video was that it could have been anywhere. Your hometown. Your daughter. Viewed in its entirety, the silent security camera footage was a melancholic homage to America’s most prominent missing girl— Suzanne Lombard. The time stamp read 10: 47 p.m. 

FitzSimmons, Matthew - The Short Drop

Not the best first lines, but not bad either. The story actually becomes quite compelling quite quickly.

Since It's Ground Hog Day I Offer This

In honor of Groundhog Day I found this article from the Daily Beast called How to Write Groundhog Day: 10 Rules for Screenwriters by Danny Rubin (see here), author of one of my favorite movies, Groundhog Day with Bill Murray.

I actually contacted Danny Rubin several years ago to see if I could read his original script. I failed. He was very nice about it all, and it might have been my first contact with a true, professional writer. I think it had to do with the story regarding how long Bill Murray's character was stuck in that one day in the movie (see here). Then I read a great article by Jonah Goldberg in National Review about the script (see here . . . well worth the moment it takes to read it). That lead me to go try and find the original script. No joy.

I do like Rubin's article on writing. He offers some great thoughts including this one under the heading "Writers write. And rewrite."

"...most ideas tend to look fully formed and perfect until you actually try to write them down."

Each of my novels started in my head fully fleshed out. Then, as I began to write them, I realized there wasn't much meat on the bone. It took over a year of writing (and worse, rewriting) to get them even to the state they're in now. Funny how the brain can decieve a fellow in to believing its all done but the writing.

"You don’t have to put a gun to person’s head in order to make the stakes life and death. It can be a spiritual death." 

Rubin writes this when talking about Raising the Stakes. This is a common piece of advice. No one cares if the main character fails and he doesn't get the cheese that he wanted on his cheeseburger. But, if the world is about to explode, if the Pope is about to be assassinated, if an election is about to be stolen or a young girl is about to be murdered, well then all of a sudden the reader gives a damn.

This is actually something I struggle with and have been told as much by my beta readers. I need to stop some time during my writing and think to myself, "how can I make this all a bigger deal."

"When encountering a story issue that is keeping you from moving forward, the tendency is to look to plot for your solutions. How can he have a crowbar with him when he gets to the warehouse? How could she know about the baby at this point in the story? How did the car get from the impound lot to the airport? This kind of logistical thinking can drive you crazy and will often lead to some very convoluted plotting in order to get the result you want."

"Or you could tinker with your character. What skills do they have?  What happened in their background that might make them prepared for the challenge you’ve given them? What are they willing to do?"

This one I really struggle with. Allowing the character to drive the action is super tough. I have a plot and several sub-plots and I force the characters through that plot as if they were cars on a roller coaster track. I don't let the characters determine their own fate and what will happen. Not sure how to go about doing it, but having seen Groundhog Day I can certainly see what Rubin means.

It's great advice, and I love his work. Sure wish I had gotten a chance to see that original screen play. Maybe one day.

They Made a Movie of THIS?

I've read a half dozen or more Donald Westlake novels (some of which can be found here), and I have to say that I'm the least impressed by this one, Why Me (see here). So unimpressed in fact that yesterday's discovery that they had made a movie of it is not just surprising, it's utterly shocking.

Although funny and light and witty in the manner of Catch 22 and so many of Donald Westlake's other novels this one had absolutely no depth. It was one note. There was one plot and the story followed that plot along doggedly and without much verve or imagination.

There was one Donald Westlake I read (it was from the library which means I didn't blog about it, so I can't type "here") where he had a try and salvage a treasure from the bottom of a lake in upstate New York. Drowned Hopes (see here). That one was movie worthy. There was another one where he had to try and steal a jewel from a guy's house and the guy wanted him to do it. The Hot Rock (here). That was worth making a movie about. There was another where Dortmunder had to pretend to be a chauffeur in order to get to a painting. The Road to Ruin (here). That was worth a movie. This one was not.

Don't get me wrong, it was good. Like I said in my previous post (here) it is a good Donald Westlake novel. This one was just not as good as so many of the others.

Unflappably Westlakian

Why Me (see here), by Donald Westlake is on the hot seat this week. Like Dick Francis and Lawrence Sanders, I turn to Westlake when I want a comedy. You know what you're going to get when you read about Dortmunder. (That being said, I'm reading the book, I have no idea who Gus is nor who Bruno is . . . although that's a funny picture of Christopher Lloyd)

The first line is also vintage Westlake, not great, not even good, but gets the reader directly into the right frame of mind.

“Hello,” said the telephone cheerfully into Dortmunder’s ear, “this is Andy Kelp.” 

“This is Dort—” Dortmunder started to say, but the telephone was still talking in his ear. It was saying: 

“I’m not home right now, but—” 

“Andy? Hello?” 

“— you can leave a message on this recording machine—” 

“It’s John, Andy. John Dortmunder.” 

“— and I’ll call you back just as soon as I can.” 

“Andy! Hey! Can you hear me?” 

“Leave your message right after you hear the beep. And do have a nice day.” 

Dortmunder held both hands cupped around the mouthpiece of the phone and roared down its throat: “HELLO!”

Westlake, Donald E - Why Me?


Last thing on that movie poster . . . having gotten midway through the book,  I think it would be a horrible movie. I'm not surprised I didn't know about the movie. More surprised that it was made.

Felix is No Dick

Nope, as I said in a post last week, Felix Francis is good, but he's not at all as good as his father. I finished Damage this weekend, and although it was good, it wasn't a five star story like many of his father's are. Why? Several reasons.

First, it's not original. My favorite comic (of all time) is the Bloom County about there not being any truly original ideas anymore (I posted it at the end of this post for you). The fact that Felix is not using an original idea is a problem with me. It's as if he's trying to reproduce a story and he's not done it very well. I mentioned this in last week's post as well (see here).

I had to create a form for our business a few years ago. When I had come up with just the right form on my computer my boss told me, "Go and copy it about 10 times and see just how legible all those lines and shaded areas become." I'm glad I did it. The text became illegible in the shaded regions after just a few copies. They would have become illegible in our field locations as well. This is the way Damage felt. As if after several copies the story became fuzzy and not as good as the original. And yes, I blurred the image above for just this reason.

Secondly, he uses cheap and easy mystery/thriller techniques. Guess what? The main character, Jeff Hinkley, gets hit by a car and gets hurt. Happens in most of his books. He happens to put a tracking device in a rugby ball, the perfect vehicle for throwing it out a train window later? How did he know he'd have to do that! Additionally, Jeff figures out who the villain is about three quarters the way through the book, but Felix doesn't let the reader in on it till the end. He has Jeff and his wife sit outside the villains house for a full day and never let's his main character mention to the reader who it is they are watching. They follow him, they discuss him with others, and always Felix writes "I told him what I thought," or "I showed him the proof that I had against our target." It's a pathetic way to build suspense and it doesn't work in this case at all. If anything it only gets the reader mad.

I have given (and will continue to give) Felix Francis the benefit of the doubt because I love reading Dick Francis' books and wish that there were new ones to read. But this has me wondering if I should give up on the endeavor. Three star at best. Perhaps two is more realistic. I hope that Vincent Lardo offers a better bridge to more from my favorite authors than Felix.

(Here is that comic I mentioned)

Ben Thimmes, RIP

You may not be aware of this . . . but if you bought my book in the past year then you contributed to ALS on behalf of Ben and Sarah Thimmes (see here and here).

Sarah was a great friend of my wife's from their days at Miami University in Ohio. They were close and fast friends so naturally as my wife and her friends all got engaged and married all of we husbands and fiances got to know one another. I only saw Ben a handful of times before he was diagnosed with ALS. I wish that I had seen him more both before and after.

What strikes me is Sarah's resilience. The devotion that Sarah showed Ben and her family, the persistence and resolution and mostly . . . at least from where I sat, her indefatigably. If there is one thing I learned from being friends of Ben and Sarah is that I hope I can show that same amount of resilience in the face of long term adversity as she did for her husband, Ben.

I will miss Ben and will leave my note about profits going to ALS up and hope that one day I become a blockbuster writer if only so I can hope to make a bigger impact.

Back to an Old Favorite

The title is "Back to an Old Favorite" but can I really say that when it's the son of a favorite?

Whenever I'm casting about for something to read I will commonly go back to the old standards and favorite authors. Go look through this blog and you'll see some of those favorites quite easily. There's Lawrence Sanders (see here), Dick Francis (here), Fredrick Forsyth (here), even some Evanovich (here) and several others. They are safe, secure, you know what you're going to get and it's like walking into a party where you know everyone and there will be some, but not too many, surprises.

This time it's Dick Francis' Damage (buy it here) . . .but it's really by Felix Francis his son. Why is it "Dick Francis' Damage?" Did Dick Francis outline the novel and Felix just complete it? Is he just drawing off the fame and reputation of his father by using his name? (I know, I know . . . it's this . . . but bear with me). Before I continue, let me share with you the first line. I love compiling this list of first lines (see here) and going back and reading them all. This one may be one that I skip over.

I’ve had the test results and the news isn’t good.” 

I couldn’t get the words out of my head. 

I was sitting in the shadows at the back of a race-program kiosk near the north entrance to Cheltenham racetrack, scanning the faces of the crowd as they flooded through the turnstiles. 

I was looking out for any one of the fifty or so individuals who were banned from British racetracks, but my mind kept drifting back to the telephone conversation I’d had that morning with my sister. 

“I’ve had the test results and the news isn’t good.” 

“In what way?” I asked with rising dread.

“It’s cancer,” she said quietly.

Francis, Felix - Dick Francis's Damage

Now, one my suspect that whipping out a word like "cancer" would instantly make for a good first line, but for my money, that could be one of the more boring story openings in existence (that could be hyperbole . . . I still have quite a few more to read).

Now back to Felix. Nothing against my own pops, but I wouldn't want people coming to a train meet that I called "David Hannah's Train Meet" when in effect there was no trace of my father in it. Felix should break out on his own I say. I understand the need to make a living and the desire to continue the work of his father, but have some courage to just call it, Felix Francis' Damage.

Not to mention the fact that as far as books go, his aren't too bad. I don't think they're as solidly good as his father's but they're pretty close (see here). Also, there were some stinker Dick Francis books out there. Felix I hope will one day drop the Dick Francis banner at the top of his books and go fly free on his own.

This is an irksome to me in many ways, not least of which I find Felix not quite as good as his father, but also because of Vincent Lardo. I feel dismayed whenever I go out to read a new Lawrence Sanders book because there are no new ones. His Archy McNally character could be one of my favorite characters ever (despite being a blatant rip off of Archie Goodwin of the Nero Wolf series . . . see here), but there is old Vincent Lardo continuing the series in Sanders' absence.

On the one hand I think it's the height of patheticism to have to use someone else's characters and fame to create your own. On the other hand it sure is nice to have even the semblance of a growing library out there of some of my favorite authors. I'd love to know what others think about this as well.