Congress should pass a law that mandates more novels from non-prolific authors

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn authors

And why not? The feds are already sticking their noses into a lot of stuff that isn’t the government’s business. And if Congress were fair about the matter, it wouldn’t force everyone to churn out books like James Patterson who, as we all know, has a truckload of co-authors except on his Alex Cross novels.

Clarke has aged since this 2006 photo was taken.

Since the idea for this legislation is mine, I get to choose the authors: they would include Mark Helprin, Erin Morgenstern, Susanna Clarke, and Donna Tartt. Oh shoot, Clarke has chronic fatigue syndrome, so we can’t put her on the list. We want to, but we shouldn’t. While it’s taxing to write books, maybe the feds should impose a tax on authors who really ought to write more, the rationale being that we need their stories to stay sane–or mostly sane.

Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (2004) and its alternate history of Britain and magic, is probably one of the best magic/fantasy novels anyone has written.  We need more, much more because these books show us the world as it really exists. Perhaps Congress can convene a committee of dunces to learn why there’s been no sequel.

One pleasant surprise of 2012 was the appearance (without warning) of Morgenstern’s The Night Circus about a strange circus that appears without warning and spreads magic and humor in the towns where it manifests. The Starless Sea (2020) also captured our imagination with a magical world just as stunning as that of the circus.

Perhaps the tactic Congress should take is that readers need more of these books for national security reasons. We know that rationale is always bullshit, but it seems to work.

Mark Helprin, at 76, has appeared with another novel that will help save us from the Ruskies, Hamas, and other bad people called The Oceans and the Stars. I like all of his work, but think nothing holds a candle to Winter’s Tale.

Donna Tartt who–thank the good Lord is only 59–has always written at a snail’s pace. Congress can fix this because the country, as the Department of Homeland Security would say, “needs the security of books,” and that means that Tartt cannot take a few years off to play video games or watch “Survivor” and “Hells Kitchen” while the Pulitzer gathers dust on the shelves.

We need the stories, but we wither on the vine when we’re stuck waiting for them for too long.

–Malcolm

People who read

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn reading, writing

“You get a little moody sometimes but I think that’s because you like to read. People that like to read are always a little fucked up.” ― Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tides

I believe this because I read and I am f_cked up. If you read, you probably are, too.

Or perhaps, Pat Conroy said that in a novel because he wrote novels about people who were f_cked up, and/or he had to be f_cked up to write such novels. It’s a chicken and egg thing, whether reading f_cks you up or attaches itself to people who are already f_cked up.

The readers and writers who irritate me are the ones who don’t know they’re f_cked up or, worse yet, act like everyone on the planet except them is a jerk one way or another.

It comes down to this: being a writer does not make one a god and being a reader does not make one an angel. Those who think so, love calling attention to themselves as the pretentious arbiters of high-quality knowledge, taste, “proper” political agendas, and tantric orgasms. If they are writers, they have–or want to have–an MFA degree even though an MFA kills more writers than it nurtures. If they are readers, they think it’s important to argue about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin.

If there were a collective noun that suited the worst of readers, it would be a pretension of readers. The same noun might apply to the worst of our writers.

There’s nothing wrong with becoming an avid reader or a prolific writer if you don’t brag about it or openly proclaim that it puts you at the head of the line when the rapture comes. Those of us who write and/or read need to understand in spades that we’re not special, nor better than anyone who drives a garbage truck or labors as a longshoreman.

Readers who are f_cked up think they are God’s gift to the unwashed and that the rest of us need to treat them as such. You know the kind of people I’m talking about, right?

–Malcolm

Goodbye Ryan O’Neal at 82 whom I remember best for ‘Paper Moon’and ‘Barry Lyndon,’ but not so much for ‘Love Story’

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn Hollywood, writing
O’Neal in 1968

I also remember his recurring role on “Bones” as Temperance Brennan’s somewhat ne’er-do-well father Max. Since I watch re-runs of “Bones ” I still see Ryan O’Neal a lot. He made a nice foil for the ultra-logical Brennan and the always-suspicious FBI agent Booth.

I was a huge fan of the 1973 comedy-drama film directed by  Peter Bogdanovich and starring Ryan and his daughter Tatum who won a best supporting actress Oscar for the work in the film.

According to the critics, “Vincent Canby of The New York Times praised “two first-class performances” from Ryan and Tatum O’Neal but found the film “oddly depressing” and unable to “make up its mind whether it wants to be an instant antique or a comment on one”. Roger Ebert gave the film his top four-star rating and commented that “a genre movie about a con man and a little girl is teamed up with the real poverty and desperation of Kansas and Missouri, circa 1936. You wouldn’t think the two approaches would fit together, somehow, but, they do, and the movie comes off as more honest and affecting than if Bogdanovich had simply paid tribute to older style.” Gene Siskel gave the film three-and-a-half stars out of four and wrote that Tatum O’Neal “is more than cute. Her role is something special in the well-established tradition of children on film.” I don’t agree that the film was “oddly depressing.”

According to Variety, “O’Neal was diagnosed with chronic leukemia in 2001 and with prostate cancer in 2012.” And noted that he was a “marquee draw” in the 1970s.

Part of that draw came from “Love Story” (1970).  The film earned a lot of money though it was much maligned for being a shameless tear-jerker. O’Neal and Candace Bergen starred in the 1978 sequel “Oliver’s Story.”  I preferred “Barry Lyndon,”  Stanley Kubrick’s 1975 historical drama that was drawn from William Makepeace Thackeray’s 1844-era novel  The Luck of Barry Lyndon. The film received Oscar nominations and was notable for its cinematography.

So, we lost another journeyman actor whose work spanned many decades and genres from “Peyton Place” and beyond.

–Malcolm

I have a new respect for those forced to be on gluten-free diets

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn Food, writing

I was initially skeptical of the rush by so many people to remove gluten from their diets.  On one hand, it’s part of a new diet fad. For another, going gluten-free makes meals more expensive while taking away nutrients required for a balanced diet.

But then when I was tested to see if I had Celiac disease as part of this many-month-long attempt by doctors to find out what was causing my apparent stomach infection, I was happy to see that I don’t have the disease. For one thing, there’s no cure except for getting rid of gluten. For another, if I had a Celiac problem and went on a gluten-free diet immediately, it might take a couple of years to feel the results.

Having to monitor my food for any trace of gluten–often from unexpected sources–would drive me nuts–like monitoring my diet for any trace of nuts. The people who have to keep either out of their diets have enough trouble with planning meals and looking at ingredients in processed foods, much less the miserable experience at a restaurant where servers often have no idea whether the “bad stuff” is in the food or not.

As I waited for the results of the test, I thought about all the consequences of having Celiac and turning into one of those people who has to look at everything they eat through a microscope. I’ve always been able to eat almost anything, so being about to eat a small portion of that anything would have been quite a chore.

Due to the workings of Murphy’s law, developing a pill to combat the negative impact of gluten for those who shouldn’t have it, the result would probably be something bad. Lactaid seems to work but if a product called Gluteaide came along, the side effects would probably be fatal–or worse.

I tried Lactaid (just in case) and nothing bad happened. Yet I always worry that there’s a catcher in the rye–in addition to the gluten.

–Malcolm

Malcolm R. Campbell is the author of magical realism novels set in the Florida Panhandle.

It’s time to re-read Pat Conroy’s ‘Prince of Tides’

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn books, writing

Along with Gibbon’s A Scots Quair and Allende’s The House of Spirits, Pat Conroy’s  The Prince of Tides (1986) is one of those “comfort food” books that I return to again and again even though it tells the story of a doomed family with some the worst personal events ever consigned to print.  Most readers, I think, need “comfort food” books not for the comfort they provide but for familiar stories, beautifully told.

I suppose most readers are more familiar with The Great Santini and The Lords of Discipline, in part because their stories are more straightforward and the movies were better made. I like all of Conroy’s work but come back to The Prince of Tides because the story is a poem to the South Carolina low country and the flaws of a Southern upbringing of the era in which the book was set.

I grew up in the South along the Florida coast, and I am familiar with the beauty of marshland, tides, fishing, coastal waters, and what Southern society “did wrong,” so I know the tropes typically found in Southern fiction set in the 1950s and 1960s. When I read The Prince of Tides, I see where I came from without the worst of times that confront the Wingo family.

Conroy in 1986

The San Francisco Chronicle wrote, “A big, sprawling saga of a novel this epic family drama is a masterwork by the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Great Santini.” Some reviewers would say the book is overwritten and/or that most of Conroy’s work is overwritten. Perhaps so, but I don’t care because the settings and circumstances almost demand that his novels should be overwritten.

From the Publisher

“Set in New York City and the low country of South Carolina, The Prince of Tides opens when Tom, a high school football coach whose marriage and career are crumbling, flies from South Carolina to New York after learning of his twin sister’s suicide attempt. Savannah is one of the most gifted poets of her generation, and both the cadenced beauty of her art and the jumbled cries of her illness are clues to the too-long-hidden story of her wounded family. In the paneled offices and luxurious restaurants of New York City, Tom and Susan Lowenstein, Savannah’s psychiatrist, unravel a history of violence, abandonment, commitment, and love. And Tom realizes that trying to save his sister is perhaps his last chance to save himself.

“With passion and a rare gift of language, Pat Conroy moves from present to past, tracing the amazing history of the Wingos from World War II through the final days of the war in Vietnam and into the 1980s, drawing a rich range of characters: the lovable, crazy Mr. Fruit, who for decades has wordlessly directed traffic at the same intersection in the southern town of Colleton; Reese Newbury, the ruthless, patrician land speculator who threatens the Wingos’ only secure worldly possession, Melrose Island; Herbert Woodruff, Susan Lowenstein’s husband, a world-famous violinist; Tolitha Wingo, Savannah’s mentor and eccentric grandmother, the first real feminist in the Wingo family.

“Pat Conroy reveals the lives of his characters with surpassing depth and power, capturing the vanishing beauty of the South Carolina low country and a lost way of life.”

According to Publishers Weekly, the book is, “A seductive narrative, told with bravado, flourishes, portentous foreshadowing, sardonic humor and eloquent turns of phrase. … For sheer storytelling finesse, Conroy will have few rivals.” 

As I re-read this familiar novel, I am sick with an infection of unknown origin that I contracted in June and that still has doctors perplexed. Plenty of tests, but no answers. The story fits my mood as I wonder whether or not at my age I can survive this illness. This is why we need comfort books. They help us remain sane because they present greater insanities than we can endure.

–Malcolm

Scheherazade

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn books, writing

Scheherazade, the teller of the tales in The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, captured my imagination when I was in junior high school.  The stories are fascinating. So was the idea of the narrator telling one story per night–but never quite ending it–to keep the king from killing her when a tale ends which he had threatened to do. Or perhaps it was her name that drew me in and never let me go.

My parents are at fault because they gave me a copy of the book as a gift for Christmas or my birthday. It’s around here somewhere. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t the definitive 1880s translation from Richard Burton  (1821–1890) which filled many volumes and might still be the only complete English translation.

I also had a copy of Rimsky-Korsakov’s 1888 symphonic suite “Scheherazade” based on the story. I had it on vinyl. It’s also around here somewhere, though I probably wore all the grooves off. My copy is older than the version shown here.

I still like the stories now, many years after I first read them, and wonder how many high school and college students study the book anymore. I hope they do, for though it comes from another time, place, and culture, it presents stories that demand our attention and that keeps us reading–rather like the king who fell in love with Sheherazade (sparing her life) while she was telling her stories every night.

from the Publisher (current edition)

“THE BOOK OF THE Thousand Nights and a Night VOLUME V Translated by RICHARD F. BURTON Limited to one thousand numbered sets 1885 (London “Burton Club” edition), illustrated The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night (1885), subtitled “A Plain and Literal Translation of the Arabian Nights Entertainments”, is a celebrated English language translation of “One Thousand and One Nights” (the “Arabian Nights”) – a collection of Middle Eastern and South Asian stories and folk tales compiled in Arabic during the Islamic Golden Age (8th−13th centuries) – by the British explorer and Arabist Richard Francis Burton (1821–1890). It stood as the only complete translation of the Macnaghten or Calcutta II edition (Egyptian recension) of the “Arabian Nights” until 2008. “One Thousand and One Nights” (Arabic: كِتَاب أَلْف لَيْلَة وَلَيْلَة‎‎ kitāb ʾalf layla wa-layla) is a collection of Middle Eastern and South Asian stories and folk tales compiled in Arabic during the Islamic Golden Age. It is often known in English as the Arabian Nights, from the first English language edition (1706), which rendered the title as The Arabian Nights’ Entertainment. The work was collected over many centuries by various authors, translators, and scholars across West, Central, and South Asia and North Africa. The tales themselves trace their roots back to ancient and medieval Arabic, Persian, Mesopotamian, Indian, Jewish and Egyptian folklore and literature. In particular, many tales were originally folk stories from the Caliphate era, while others, especially the frame story, are most probably drawn from the Pahlavi Persian work Hazār Afsān (Persian: هزار افسان‎‎, lit. A Thousand Tales) which in turn relied partly on Indian elements. Initial frame story of the ruler Shahryār (from Persian: شهريار‎‎, meaning “king” or “sovereign”) and his wife Scheherazade, (from Persian: شهرزاد‎‎, possibly meaning “of noble lineage”), and the framing device incorporated throughout the tales themselves. The stories proceed from this original tale; some are framed within other tales, while others begin and end of their own accord. The bulk of the text is in prose, although verse is occasionally used for songs and riddles and to express heightened emotion. Most of the poems are single couplets or quatrains, although some are longer.”

These stories took me to another world as did the music. Take a look and you might have a similar experience though not with my obsession. I do believe these stories are “must-reading” because they are a strong component of the world’s literary heritage–as are the Shakespeare plays–and demand our attention. That is to say, part of being a multi-genre, multi-cultural, reader is to dip one’s toe (if not more) into the stories spun by Scheherazade and know more of the world outside our neighborhoods.

–Malcolm

‘Flowers for Algernon’ by Daniel Keyes

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn books

“Flowers for Algernon is a short story by American author Daniel Keyes, later expanded by him into a novel and subsequently adapted for film and other media. The short story, written in 1958 and first published in the April 1959 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, won the Hugo Award for Best Short Story in 1960. The novel was published in 1966 and was joint winner of that year’s Nebula Award for Best Novel (with Babel-17).” – Wikipedia

The name of the Algernon character, a mouse, was inspired by the name of the English poet  Algernon Charles Swinburne. The story focuses on the ethical considerations that come out of the treatment of the mentally disabled and is drawn from events from the author’s life.

My generation studied this novel in school, but by now–with all the movies available online and via satellite TV–I suppose more people have seen the 1968 movie film “Charlie” for which Cliff Robertson won the Best Actor Oscar and for which Stirling Silliphant won the Best Screenplay Oscar.

Wikipedia notes that “Roger Ebert gave the film three stars out of four, writing ‘The relationship between Charly (Cliff Robertson) and the girl (Claire Bloom) is handled delicately and well. She cares for him but inadequately understands the problems he’s facing. These become more serious when he passes normal IQ and moves into the genius category; his emotional development falls behind. It is this story, involving a personal crisis, which makes Charly a warm and rewarding film.'”

The American Library Association includes the novel on the list of those most frequently challenged between 1990 and 1999 because of portions that describe Charlie trying to cope with his sexual desires.

From the Publisher of the 2005 Edition

With more than five million copies sold, Flowers for Algernon is the beloved, classic story of a mentally disabled man whose experimental quest for intelligence mirrors that of Algernon, an extraordinary lab mouse. In poignant diary entries, Charlie tells how a brain operation increases his IQ and changes his life. As the experimental procedure takes effect, Charlie’s intelligence expands until it surpasses that of the doctors who engineered his metamorphosis. The experiment seems to be a scientific breakthrough of paramount importance–until Algernon begins his sudden, unexpected deterioration. Will the same happen to Charlie?

From Kirkus Reviews

“For lovers of Science Fiction, this story, in its original short story form was always a special kind of tour de force, a classic to be given to people you were trying to convert to the genre. Now, and regretfully, unfortunately, it has been turned into a full novel which in turn is being made into a motion picture. The idea is still unique. It’s still Charlie Gordon’s journal starting from “”progris riport 1 martch 3″”…””Dr. Strauss says I should rite down what I think and remembir and every thing that happens to me from now on.”” And it’s still the tormented story of a human being with a low intellect, who has a passion for learning and who is used as a guinea pig in an experiment designed to triple the I.Q. It is still the story of the adjustment of a man who swings from one end of the intelligence scale to the far other. But now, oh what Freudian psychoses riddle the pages of the Progress Reports. What shapely Hollywooden scenes come to view. What bastardization of what was once so beautifully put. The beginning and end seem relatively untouched and remain striking in their simplicity (the end is a real tear jerker). The middle section is saved only by the relatively few scenes with Algernon, the guinea pig mouse Charlie used to race with.”

I agree. The story began so well. And then things happened that seemed to dilute it because it lacked what it had as a short story: truth and a pure focus. I take issue with the fact that the experiment was even considered, much less done. And that, I think, is the real message of the book: do you do this or do you not do this?

–Malcolm

‘Inheritance: The Lost Bride Trilogy, Book 1’ by Nora Roberts

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn books

Years ago when Nora Roberts had only written maybe 5,000 novels, my wife and brother’s wife used to share some of her books with me and, I had to confess, I liked them. Not the straight romance stuff, but novels more in the mystery/thriller category such as Dark Witch, Shadow Spell, and Blood Magick. At 73, she’s still churning out the books, and this new trilogy (released November 23) might just be interesting to readers of multiple genres. According to Roberts’ website, “Over the last 30 years, an average of 27 Nora Roberts books were sold every minute.” I can believe it.

From the Publisher

“Inheritance is the first in The Lost Bride Trilogy by #1 New York Times bestselling author Nora Roberts―a tale of tragedies, loves found and lost, and a family haunted for generations.

“1806: Astrid Poole sits in her bridal clothes, overwhelmed with happiness. But before her marriage can be consummated, she is murdered, and the circle of gold torn from her finger. Her last words are a promise to Collin never to leave him…

“Graphic designer Sonya MacTavish is stunned to learn that her late father had a twin he never knew about―and that her newly discovered uncle, Collin Poole, has left her almost everything he owned, including a majestic Victorian house on the Maine coast, which the will stipulates she must live in it for at least three years. Her engagement recently broken, she sets off to find out why the boys were separated at birth―and why it was all kept secret until a genealogy website brought it to light.

“Trey, the young lawyer who greets her at the sprawling clifftop manor, notes Sonya’s unease―and acknowledges that yes, the place is haunted…but just a little. Sure enough, Sonya finds objects moved and music playing out of nowhere. She sees a painting by her father inexplicably hanging in her deceased uncle’s office, and a portrait of a woman named Astrid, whom the lawyer refers to as “the first lost bride.” It’s becoming clear that Sonya has inherited far more than a house. She has inherited a centuries-old curse, and a puzzle to be solved if there is any hope of breaking it…”

Nothing beats a centuries-old curse.

From Kirkus Reviews

“Roberts is in fine form here. Her lush, ethereal world of ghosts and spirits is the perfect foil for Sonya’s down-to-earth, almost spartan manner. Another Roberts hallmark is on display: her continuing thematic exploration of how an individual defeats evil—not by acting alone, but by forming a community and harnessing its members’ strength and power for the coming battle.

“Exciting launch for Roberts’ new trilogy, which promises to explore the mystical power of women to do both good and evil.”

Book Reporter notes, “Nora Roberts has crafted another story with a practical-minded female protagonist who is strong enough to grapple with the good and evil in the Poole family legacy. Her novels are well known for these quintessential battles, and this one has it all — a haunted house, a curse, secrets to uncover, and a cast of characters who are sure to charm. This reviewer can’t wait to read the next book in the series.”

–Malcolm

Malcolm R. Campbell often takes a walk through the paranormal.

‘An Artist in America’ by Thomas Hart Benton

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn art

“Thomas Hart Benton (April 15, 1889 – January 19, 1975) was an American painter, muralist, and printmaker. Along with Grant Wood and John Steuart Curry, he was at the forefront of the Regionalist art movement. The fluid, sculpted figures in his paintings showed everyday people in scenes of life in the United States.” – Wikipedia

Achelous and Hercules, a 1947 mural made for a Kansas City department store, now in the Smithsonian American Art Museum

I very much like Thomas Hart Benton, especially his murals like the one shown here. One of my favorite old books on my shelves is his autobiography An Artist In America published in 1939. Sad to say, I cannot find the cover art online, but the cover shown here comes from an early edition. The cover, which shows some of his sketches, says that the book includes 64 sketches, representing “A sympathetic vigorous picture of America by one of her great artists.”

From The Publisher (current edition)

Benton in 1935

“Controversial, flamboyant, contentious, brilliant–Thomas Hart Benton (1889-1975) was certainly all of those. Few American artists have stirred so much love and hatred as he did in a career that lasted almost seventy years. Although his painting aroused much controversy, perhaps equally as much was created by his words, for his piercing wit, profane sarcasms, and insightful condemnations were fired off without restraint. In this fiery and provocative autobiography, Benton presents an intriguing record of American art and society during his lifetime.

“The first installment of this work was published in 1937, but Benton continued his life story in chapters added to editions published in 1951 and 1968. This new edition includes seventy-six drawings that add much to his narrative, plus a foreword discussing Benton’s place in American art and an afterword covering his career after 1968, both written by art historian Matthew Baigell.

American Discovery Viewed by Native Americans

“Although Benton is most famous as a regionalist painter and muralist, his complex and fascinating career brought him into contact with many of the most important artists and thinkers of the century, including Jackson Pollock, Grant Wood, Julian Huxley, Felix Frankfurter, Eugene Debbs, John Reed, and Harry Truman. While living in New York and on Martha’s Vineyard in the 1920s and 1930s, Benton often associated with leading intellectuals and radicals. However, when his evolving principles of art led him away from an interest in Marxism, he was bitterly attacked by many of his former friends, and his account of that time reveals strikingly the fierce critical battles he faced in trying to establish his own artistic vision.

“Critics on the Left were not his only opponents, however, and equally revealing are his responses to the moral condemnations heaped on his murals done for the states of Indiana and Missouri and on his realistic nudes of the late 1930s.

“Throughout his account, from descriptions of his boyhood in southwest Missouri, his travels, and his career to discussions of specific works of art and other artists, Benton portrays people and events as vividly in words as he does in his paintings.”

George didn’t want Everest named after him

On By Malcolm R. CampbellIn mountains, writing

Most of us are aware that in 2015, the Department of the Interior finally recognized “Denali” as the official name for the mountain formerly called Mount McKinley. Alaska had been calling the Peak “Denali” for forty years already. Perhaps someday the world will officially recognize the Nepalese name “Sagarmatha” as the correct name for Mount Everest (shown here).

While Sir. George Everest (4 July 1790 – 1 December 1866) had more to do with Sagarmatha (Goddess of the Sky) than President McKinley had to do with Denali (as a surveyor working on the connection between Northern India and Nepal), he never saw the mountain, said the word “Everest” would be difficult for people living in the area to pronounce, and didn’t believe the mountain should carry his name.

According to Wikipedia, “In 1865, the Royal Geographical Society renamed Peak XV – at the time only recently identified as the world’s highest peak – to Mount Everest in his honour. Andrew Scott Waugh, his protégé and successor as surveyor general, had been responsible for putting his name forward in 1856. Everest’s name was used as a compromise due to the difficulty of choosing between multiple local names for the mountain.

K2 in the Karakoram range, while not quite as tall as Everest, is a more difficult climb and, as such, is often called the “Savage Mountain.” Estimates are that one person dies for every four who summit the mountain. It used to be referred to as “Godwin-Austen after the English surveyor. None of the possible local names seems to stand out, but “Masherbrum” or “Chogori” might one day be considered as more appropriate.

I dearly love mountains and once thought I’d climb Sagarmatha and Chogori. The names of these peaks belong to those who live there. On recent visits to Glacier National Park in Montana where I did some climbing years ago, I was happy to see more and more native names (as rendered in English) being used. Mt. Wilbur, across the lake from Many Glacier Hotel, is finally being called “Heavy Shield,” for example.

Over time, we will (I hope) drift away from names imposed on mountains, lakes, and other geographic features from the outside instead of “naming local.”

–Malcolm