Always a Cop

The previous note indicated that coincidence is a dangerous tool in the hands of an author. So it was in the case of “Always a Cop.” Paul Wagner used it to get his story started and it was almost enough to make me quit reading his book. However, I picked it up again and got very much interested in the characters he developed. The story is a two-fold mystery that piques the interest of three retired policemen. 

Wagner describes the men to a “T” and with all their frailties and foibles they set about trying to find the bad guys responsible for the unrelated crimes. Beauregard or Beau is the main protagonist and he has to be one of the biggest advocates for Viagra as he is on call for many of the women he contacts both in his boarding house and when he rides his bicycle around town.

His partner, Finncannon, suffers from Alzheimer’s as he sits in his retirement home. Beau visits him and at times they reminisce. With the disappearance of a high priority girl whose father is a legislator, the game is afoot and the old cops get involved.

One of the minor characters in Beau’s past life comes with the tale of his granddaughter who has disappeared and he would like Beau’s help in finding her.

The third member of the “cop squad” is Matso, a Japanese-American  golfer that knows no bounds to his love of the game. He is tasked with going to Mexico to run down either info or pictures of the girl who has gone missing. His adventures are almost comic relief to the story.

As the story progresses and the clues are examined by all the old cops and Beau’s daughter who is also a detective, some unusual twists occur including Beau being knocked off his bicycle and subsequently suffering temporary amnesia.

The story takes on a global nature as one particular clue, an uncut diamond, links the various young girl murders around the world.

In what a reader expects, the two crimes are solved and Beau finds that he is asked to find another person setting us up for a continuation of the old cop story.

Though not a page turner, the time spent reading this novel will fill those hours when ennui sets in.

Coincidence

The title refers to a space in time when two or more related or unrelated events occur simultaneously. When we experience this phenomenon it usually isn’t earth shaking although it does provide an item of conversation that can be shared.

On the other hand, using coincidence in a fictional sense is dangerous because it immediately challenges the reader to hold onto disbelief at the same time that the reader’s inner voice is shouting wait a minute.

If an author uses a coincidental meeting to begin his or her tale the inappropriateness becomes glaringly apparent. It might even result in an otherwise good story being consigned to the oblivion of being unread.

Coincidence is much like the god in the machine device that early writers used to solve the painted-into-a-corner problem with the plot. Both devices strain the reader’s ability to suspend disbelief and have usually been consigned to the same trash can as hackneyed and trite phrases. However, when an author does revert to using the coincidental appearance of a character or event a modern reader throws up his or her metaphorical hands and is bumped out of the story. Only dogged determination will cause the reader to once again take up the tale, perhaps to find that disbelief can once again be suspended to enjoy an otherwise well-told piece of fiction.

Savage

The Political Zoo gives Michael Savage’s take on many political players. Some describe career pols while others are of entertainers that have entered the political fray with their sometimes inane comments that are only broadcast because of the celebrity status of the speaker.

Each person is lampooned in an introductory page with a caricature of the individual and a pseudoscientific name. Once Savage turns the page and gets into a description of the animal so named in the introduction he proceeds to list peccadilloes, outright lies and past history of the insider advantage that many of them have used to build their own fortunes. There is no rock for these pols to hide under when it comes to Savage’s investigations.

If you’ve forgotten the pattern the pol has relapsed to time and time again, Savage reminds you in a very entertaining way. And though seeming venomous, the descriptions and facts are not nearly as poisonous as the acts themselves. What Savage is getting at is the undermining of the body politic by these lawful but despicable acts.

Many of these political animals have no compunction when it comes to putting their families on the payroll, even when the jobs they are purported to do conflict with the legislation that the pol is either working on or has influence over.

Savage is much like Sisyphus in his lashing out at the pol’s behavior because they, in his estimation, are exactly like the people who have elected them, somewhat petty, greedy and willing to cut almost any corner to achieve their ends. Pushing that political boulder up the hill of Machiavellian misdeeds only to have it roll down to the bottom requiring another round of examination and reportage is, alas, what appears to be an inevitability inherent in our political system.

Carlin

First there’s fame and then the grave. Might be something that George would have said. In his thoroughly iconoclastic approach to entertainment he garnered numerous awards and performance dates (some of which are on You Tube).

His book “Napalm and Silly Putty” is filled with what his audience has come to expect—language that dives into the gutter and soars into impeccable logic. It’s fun to read but the staggering carom of his thoughts makes a straight reading of the book nearly impossible (except for Carlin junkies).

His title derives from what he considered two of the most important inventions that mankind ever came up with. One to wipe out as many humans as the jellied gasoline could contact and the other to provide endless hours of harmless fun.

Carlin’s take on napalm permeates the book as he is constantly making allusions to devices and methods that would eliminate the most people at one fell swoop. Part of it was his shtick, but I suspect that there was something deep down that didn’t really like people in general all that much.

So George had his fame and now is no longer among the living. Having spent seventy years doing essentially what he wanted to do, one can be tolerant of the negative behaviors that probably shortened his life.

If you want some chuckles and a few belly laughs then pick up a copy you won’t regret it.

Characters

A friend who is also a writer had a book signing that heralded the publication of her book that chronicled the adventure of a young girl solving a mystery with Sherlock Holmes’ help. The event was well attended by friends, members of her writing group and other aspiring writers.

During a question and answer period Elizabeth who goes by the sobriquet “Mitty” was asked a number of questions about how she came to write the book, how she decided on the name of the girl who is the main character and whether she talks to her characters and whether they talk to her.

I’ve never thought about that last question but it does pique my interest. As I wrote back to her I don’t really talk to the people who inhabit my books, but they do seem to have minds of their own as the twists and turns of the story proceed in ways that writing on the fly doesn’t always prepare me for. I don’t know whether thinking about the characters constitutes a dialog, although what I hear them saying does more often than not appear on the page.

Getting the tone right for a particular character is difficult at times and often requires an edit to bring the latest utterance in line with the general “voice” the character presents. I suspect that others walk through a similar sequence to make sure their characters don’t step out of “character.”

Frankenstein

Frankenstein is the be-all and end-all of names in the horror pantheon. Actually what has become the appellation for the monster was actually the doctor’s name (Victor) who created the monster, but in the common mind his name has been attached to the monster so ably portrayed by Boris Karloff.

Reading Mary Shelley’s book of the same name, one hoped to find some correlation between the exciting and somewhat terrifying films of the late nineteen thirties. Unfortunately, the novel and the films appear to come from different parts of the solar system.

In a tortured beginning replete with all the Victorianisms that are so stultifying to read, Victor finds the secret of life and bestows it upon a creature he puts together from the deceased elements of other men. Unlike the film he does not graft a diseased brain upon the frame of the “fiend.”

Once he gives life to the creature he is done with him and the book travels merrily along until one of Victor’s siblings (William) is brutally murdered. Victor thinks that the creature he created must be the guilty party. However, Justine, one of the members of the Frankenstein household, is found to have part of the locket that William was wearing when he was killed.

Justine is tried, convicted and put to death. Victor laments the fact that he didn’t say anything that might have contributed to her exoneration. There is a great deal of soul searching that goes on interminably in the novel along with non-juicy gossip.

Finally, Victor meets with his creation and wants to destroy it, but the creature tells him to hold off, that he has a story to tell.

The creature goes on interminably about how he came to meet a family that he has great affection for. Victor listens with more patience that this reader has.

The creature finally ends his tale by telling Victor exactly how he murdered William and planted the evidence on Justine who was tried, convicted and executed.

Waiting for Victor to respond the creature demands a female like himself. Victor says that he will never do such a thing. The creature says that if Victor does what the monster wants he will take the female and go to South America to live in the jungle to be free of the disgust and horror of the people who have seen him.

Victor goes to England, providing a guide tour to all the sights along the way.

After England Victor goes to the Orkney Islands off the northern coast where he begins his experiment to create a female monster. The real monster somehow has found him out and curses him since he has not created the female so desired by the fiend.

Victor destroys the female parts and dumps them in the sea. After a harrowing voyage he ends up in Ireland and is treated harshly because the Irish think he is responsible for the death of a man recently discovered on the same shore that Victor has landed on.

By coincidence the dead man is Henry Clerval, Victor’s long-time friend. He is duly shocked and then thrown in jail. Victor’s father comes to visit him and after being exonerated of the crime, father and son take ship for Europe and their home in Switzerland.

After much ado, Victor decides to marry his “cousin” Elizabeth even though the monster has vowed to make their wedding night a shambles.

The wedding takes place. Victor and Elizabeth take boat to one of the lake resorts. Victor is well armed with knife and pistols if they are needed for a confrontation with the fiend. He hears a scream and Elizabeth has been murdered. He is distraught.

Victor returns home to bring the bad news to his father, who subsequently dies.

Then Victor goes on another trip to find the monster. This trip takes him across Europe, Russia and finally ends up in the frozen north. The creature eludes him, but a storm does not. He is rescued by ship whose captain listens to Victor’s tale and can hardly believe it.

As the crew is about to mutiny, Victor falls in and dies.

The captain enters Victor’s cabin to see the monster gloating over Victor’s death. The captain listens to the ranting of the monster before the monster leaps out the cabin window not to be seen again.

Coincidence, artifice and plain old stilted writing make this book a very difficult read. One wonders how many readers will slog through to the end. I only did so to round out this blog.

Grass

1963. Gunter Grass’ book “The Tin Drum” was on my reading list. It was his approach to trying to make sense of what the Nazi’s had done to his country. Whether he was part of the regime may or may not be true, but his disaffection with it certainly was. So it was a memory jog when I read of his death yesterday. All those years ago and at least one of the images from the book still remains: the dwarf finding refuge under the ballooning skirt of a frau. I suspect that Grass was using the image as a metaphor for trying to escape the despicable behavior of most of his fellow Germans. 

Now the memory of the horrors of Hitler’s attempt to subjugate the rest of us has dimmed with the evaporation of time. Still, it’s important to remember what an ideologue can do with enough support and I suspect that is the lesson for today and the threat that ISIS poses. Hitler had his triumph when the Brits allowed him to get away with terrorizing Austria and the other countries that formed what was known as “Lebensraum—“ the need for Germany to expand no matter what the cost to other entities or states. Today, many in the US don’t see any threat from the Islamic radicals and I suspect that they are analogous to the Brits and Americans who didn’t see any threat from Hitler or Hirohito. I surely hope that we are not doomed to repeat history because we have forgotten it.