The Secret Place by Tana French

Viking Penguin; 452 pages; August 2014eBook ISBN 978-0-698-17028-5

Tana French has won much praise for her five thrillers, with good reason (see glowing reviews below). This one takes place in a girls' boarding school in Ireland.  The key characters are eight teenage girls, members of rival cliques. I needed a pencil and paper to sort them out at first. But by the time this book concluded, I couldn't stop thinking about them. 
French's dialogue makes use of current teenage slang. I am not an expert in this area, but apparently "totes" means totally,  and "adorbs" means adorable. Combining the two: "That would be so totes adorbs I could just die." My favorite is "jel," which means jealous, as in "ppl are mad jel of me." My spell-checker doesn't know what to make of that one. Perhaps it's easier to text these truncated words than to spell them out entirely. So in that vein, like hello? I'll rate this engrossing novel totes awesome. 


Don't like crime fiction? You'll like The Secret Place regardless. It's outstanding by just about any standard. Or by my modest standards, at least, which is all I really care about.

Links:

New York Times review by Janet Maslin

Washington Post review by Maureen Corrigan

Home Again, Home Again

I'm the only person you know who bothers to think of things like this, let alone write about them. But bear with me. Once again, I've uncovered hidden mysteries.

Many moons ago, my father was fond of reciting a certain line of verse as he steered his Pontiac Thunderchief into the driveway of our New Jersey home. "Home again, home again, jiggety jig," he would always announce, as we arrived at 74 Canoe Brook Parkway, the center of my tiny universe during my formative years.  

As we all know, this is part of a much longer nursery rhyme which includes the verse: "To market, to market, to buy a fat pig/ Home again, home again, jiggety jig."  When my wife told me she had never heard of that nursery rhyme, I was taken aback. "It's that one about riding a cock-horse to Banbury Cross," I patiently explained, beginning to recite it in full until she exclaimed that I was driving her crazy. 

As it turns out, I was wrong. The two phrases come from separate and distinct nursery rhymes, although they are structurally similar. Analyzing end-word rhymes, both follow an a-a-b-b pattern: 

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, (a) 
To see a fine lady upon a white horse. (a)  
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, (b)  
And she shall have music wherever she goes. (b)

That's the same rhyming scheme we see in: 

To market, to market, to buy a fat pig, (a)
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig. (a) 
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog, (b)
 Home again, home again, jiggety-jog. (b) 
To market, to market, to buy a plum bun, (c)
Home again, home again, market is done. (c)

I frankly cannot recall from university literature courses whether the number of syllables per line is supposed to follow a strict pattern. But I counted them anyway. "To market, to market" follows a strict classical 11-10-11-10 syllabic structure, bringing to mind titan wordsmiths of the past. Spenser. Marlowe. And Shakespeare, of course. Don't forget Shakespeare. 

The first line of "Ride a cock-horse" has 9 syllables, followed by 10, 11 and 10 syllables respectively. Intriguing: 9-10-11-10. Was it deliberately designed that way? Perhaps there were two more lines, continuing the syllabic pattern to 12-10. Completing the cycle.  What happened to those two final lines, now lost in the mists of time, like in a Dan Brown novel? What secrets lie concealed here? Diabolical conspiracies? Ancient heresies? Buried treasure? What does it all mean? 

Hidden mysteries, indeed. 

Old Silver

On a snowy winter day, I was checking my mail box at the post office. A little girl was trying to buy stamps from a vending machine, putting coins in one by one. 

She was having trouble. One of the coins kept getting rejected. She retrieved it and put it through the machine several times -- same result. The vending machine refused to accept it. 

Finally, she asked me: "Do you have a quarter? The machine won't take this one."

She handed me the coin. I immediately saw that it was a pre-1964 quarter. I gave her old quarter back to her and told her to hang on to it. "It's got silver in it," I told her. Then I gave her a shiny new one. The machine took it.  

Good deed done, I trudged off into the snow with my mail.

The Dumfriesshire Hoard

A treasure hunter with a metal detector has unearthed a hoard of Viking gold and silver, one of the most significant ever discovered in Scotland.  This haul includes a gold cross (photo below), armbands and brooches. Estimated value: 1 million pounds sterling. 

As you can see in the video included in the excellent BBC story (link below), the lucky fellow who found it looks like a stereotypical Scottish hard man. With his burly, broken-nosed air of bald-headed  menace, this guy could easily pass for a Glaswegian knee-breaker in a novel by Denise Mina or Ian Rankin. He also resembles Phil Mitchell on Eastenders and Mike Tindall, Zara Phillips' rugby-playing husband.     

Links:

Viking treasure haul unearthed in Scotland - BBC News, October 12, 2014

1000-year old Viking treasure hoard found in Scotland - Reuters

Dumfriesshire Hoard - Wikipedia

Cross, circa 900 AD, from the Dumfriesshire Hoard.

There also exists a Dumfriesshire Hound. But that is another story. 

Dead Flowers Pressed Between Pages of Tennyson

This phrase, or something close to it, appeared in a Rolling Stone review of the first album by the band It's A Beautiful Day. As important as Rolling Stone was way back in 1969, that disparaging review didn't seem to hurt record sales. In the crowd I moved in, this album was a constant presence. The cover art was simply impossible to forget. And the song White Bird was everywhere on FM radio, with good reason.

1969

I was living in England when the band appeared at the Bath Festival of Blues and Progressive Music in 1970. One of the English music papers ran a photo of the band's singer Pattie Santos onstage. Her dark beauty, the presence of a Latina in a rock band and Santana's performance at the same event made me wonder what the hell was going on in California.  

What happened to It's A Beautiful Day? It's a sad story. After losing a lawsuit brought by their former band manager, in 1973 they were forbidden to perform under the name It's A Beautiful Day and ordered to pay their former manager over $188,000. The band broke up in 1974. Read more about that here.  

Santos was killed in a car crash in  in 1989. She wasn't wearing a seat belt. But I'm still listening to White Bird.  It's a terrific song that holds up well, even after 45 years.  

Healdsburg (CA) Tribune, December 20, 1989

It's a Beautiful Day reformed in 2000, led by original vocalist/violinist David LaFlamme. They continue to tour. 

The Seaton Down Hoard

A treasure hunter discovered 22,000 Roman coins in Devon.  "Initially, I found two small coins the size of a thumbnail sitting on top of the ground. The next shovel was full of coins – they just spilled out over the field."

Link: 

Treasure hunter guards biggest find of Roman coins by sleeping in his car

Daily Telegraph, 9/26/14 

Lone Wolf McQuade

My wife is out of town. Having nothing better to do, I watched this 1983 Chuck Norris/David Carradine action movie last night. It's so bad it's good, which confounds conventional rating systems. One star? Five stars? I'm not sure it deserves a rating at all.

Just one example: bad guy Carradine attempts to do away with good guy Norris by placing the unconscious Texas Ranger behind the wheel of his pickup truck, pushing the truck into a big hole in the ground and dumping tons of dirt on top. Our hero is now buried alive! But with a mighty heave, ol' Chuck fights his way back to consciousness just long enough to grab a can of beer, taking a huge swig of Coors and dumping the rest on his head to revive himself! Thus restored, snorting and gasping, hell-bent on revenge, Norris guns the engine and the pickup comes bursting out of the ground with an almighty roar. Then all hell breaks loose. And then..., well, you get the idea.

Ten years later, Norris reworked this character into the TV show Walker, Texas Ranger, which ran for on CBS for an astounding nine seasons.

The St. Zita Society by Ruth Rendell

Hardcover, 272 pages

Scribner, August 14, 2012

ISBN: 1451666683 (ISBN13: 9781451666687)

A highly enjoyable novel. To my mind, this one’s at least equal in quality to Portobello and No Man’s Nightingale (by Rendell) and The Cuckoo’s Calling (by Galbraith/Rowling). 

This is a crime novel in name only. The crime element is only the framework for Rendell's shrewd observations about the characters’ interior lives. Her graceful style highlights just how mediocre James Patterson, Michael Robotham and certain other popular thriller writers really are. For me personally, the London setting is another attraction.

Readers with incipient senility may be put off by the bewildering array of characters. But I say: no problem. Simply make a list of the ten most frequently mentioned characters, with a key fact about each to jog your memory. That’s what I always do. If you have a Kindle, it’s easy to search by character name for Dex, Dr. Jefferson, Mrs. Neville-Smith, Jimmy, June, Henry, Huguette, Montserrat, Rad Sothern, Thea, Miss Grieves...and that's not even all of them. I’m sure I’ll read more by The Right Honourable The Baroness Rendell, CBE. 

Link: New York Times Book Review, August 31, 2012

Bricked-Up Passageway to Hotel

The Knickerbocker Hotel in New York has been closed since 1920. Now, it's being restored. While cleaning out the basement, workers uncovered a bricked-up door, the entrance to a forgotten passageway between the hotel and the Times Square subway station. 

This resolves the mystery surrounding a long-disused door on the subway platform.  It retained its old "Knickerbocker" sign for all those years. Now we know why. 

Subway side view

Hotel side view

This story is a potent link to certain childhood fantasies. As a boy I longed to discover secret passageways, bricked-up doors, hidden staircases and the like. And why not? Adventurous young fellows were always stumbling across such things in Hardy Boys adventures such as The Secret of the Lost Tunnel, The Tower Treasure and The House on the Cliff. Sadly, our house in New Jersey contained none of these hidden mysteries. However, my searches did uncover mysteries of a different sort in my father's sock drawer, including racy James Bond novels, a 1952 Georgia Tech college yearbook and -- most shocking of all -- a marriage manual. 
Links:

• Sneak peek at new Knickerbocker Hotel - New York Post, July 14, 2014
• Behind Subway’s Phantom Hotel Entrance, Neither Arias Nor Opulence - New York Times, July 17, 2014

Coin Hoard in Old House

Someone cleaning out an old house in England found a "junk box" containing coins.

Most were worthless, but one turned out to be a 1793 cent worth over $41,000.

Link:  

Cent Found in Junk Box Becomes Auction Bonanza

Coin World, July 4, 2014

The Tunguska Event

On this day in 1908, the Tunguska event occurred in Siberia. Most scientists believe it was an asteroid airburst explosion. But a few people believe it was... something else. Black hole passing through the earth? Exploding alien spacecraft? There may be aliens among us.

Link: 

The Tunguska Event

Wikipedia

The Staffordshire Hoard

Discovered in 2009, this is considered to be one of the most important hoards ever found. 

Link: 

Anglo-Saxon hoard revealed: 4,000 pieces of stunning handcrafted treasure

Daily Mail, June 30, 2014

Day 22 of Retirement

With lots of time on my hands now, free to do whatever I please, I have discovered an exciting activity: sorting the newspaper!

As I read the paper, I carefully put each section face-down on the floor. After reading every section, I now have before me a stack of sections which magically fall into the correct order: Section A, followed by Section B, Section C, and so on.

I also remove all the advertising flyers and put them in a separate pile. I sort that pile, with the largest flyers on the bottom and the smallest on the top, so it looks neat and tidy. After stacking the sorted flyers on top of the news sections, I then re-fold the entire newspaper so it looks just like it did when it arrived.

Then I throw the lot into the recycling bin. Now the time has come to begin planning out the next meal, and my TV watching schedule for the day.

I am a lucky man.

Some Kind of Fairy Tale by Graham Joyce

Knopf  Doubleday Publishing Group, 2012

• 320 pp.

• ISBN-13: 9780307949073

e-ISBN: 978-0-385-53584-7

This is the sort of novel that has you awake at 3:30 am, unwilling to stop until you reach the last page. Following which, no matter how exhausted and and mentally scattered you feel, you find yourself writing a blog post about it. That was me, a few nights ago. But this is more than a page-turning hot read, in part because of the quality of the writing, but also because there’s deeper meaning there for those that want to look for it.  

As to the plot:  it takes place in the eastern Midlands of England. Tara, a teenage girl, disappears after meeting a stranger, Hiero, in Charnwood Forest (a real place in Leicestershire, incidentally, as you can read here). After a long absence, she returns on Christmas Day, claiming she has been trapped in a parallel reality populated by what some would call fairies. 

Tara has hardly aged at all during her absence. She believes only six months have passed. But her parents know she's been gone for 20 years. During her absence her parents have become elderly and feeble, and her brother Peter has become an adult with a wife and family. Her ex-lover Richie has become an underachiever and substance abuser, unable to get over her disappearance. 

Tara insists she's telling the truth about crossing over to another world. Dr. Underwood, her psychiatrist, concludes she has unconsciously fabricated her story as a defense mechanism to avoid confronting some trauma that occurred during her years of absence. As the plot progresses Tara becomes increasingly dissatisfied with the world she now lives in, finding it pales in comparison to that of the fairies. She also comes to believe a spurned lover from the other side has followed her back into this reality, seeking vengeance.

Cleverly written, the book itself is reticent about what really happened. For much of the book, the author leaves open several scenarios. In the end it’s pretty clear which of those scenarios you’re supposed to accept. Joyce adroitly keeps the game a-going for a good long while, but in the end the reader will conclude that Tara's version of events is true. This should come as no surprise given the the supernatural elements in Joyce's other work. There's also the strong linkage between Tara's version of events and Irish folkloric tales of fairy abduction. It's all here: a disconnect in the passage of time, the inability to return (especially if you've had food or drink in the other world), and Hiero's dark side despite his glamour. All of these can be found in the work of Irish authors such as Yeats, LeFanu, and Lord Dunsany.

Certain characters' names must have been chosen for a reason. Tara's name acknowledges the story's roots in Irish literature; The Hill of Tara is the traditional seat of the High Kings of Ireland. Hiero's name is pronounced "yarrow," which is a flowering plant with healing properties as well as the name of certain rural locations in England and Scotland, perhaps signifying the character's affinity with nature and the land. Yarrow is also the title of a fantasy novel by Charles DeLint.

Dr. Underwood's name combines "under-," signifying the unconscious mind, which he attempts to understand through psychiatric methods, and "-wood," representing Charnwood Forest, a supposed portal to the alternate reality. His first name, Vivian, is ambiguous (male? female?), like so much in the story.  The neighbor Mrs. Larwood's name also contains "-wood," signifying her connection to Charnwood Forest. 

You can read this as nothing more than a damned good story, and you won’t be disappointed. On the strength of that alone, I know I’ll be reading more of Joyce’s work. But I think Joyce had some deeper meaning in mind beyond telling a good tale. Tara is torn between two worlds. The author seems to be making a point about the duality and ambiguity of people, of existence. Is our world of reason and restraint better or worse than the dreaminess and uninhibited sensuality of Tara's other world?  Can both worlds exist at the same time?  Can the sublime also be dangerous? If something has one quality, does that totally exclude its opposite? This story seems to be saying: it’s not that simple. But perhaps there's a hint in a quote of Joseph Campbell's which Joyce cites, implying that the world of men and the world of myth are really one. The land of myth is actually the world of long-forgotten racial memories. 

There are also messages to ponder regarding personal choice and its effect on others; the connection of all living things; and the harsh truth that everything comes at a cost. Tara and Mrs. Larwood find great beauty in their parallel world, but it injures their eyes (they can no longer see their own world in the same way) and threatens their families. The fairy folk will have their price. It's a terrific book. 

Link:
Author's web site

Days of Future Past

In my humble opinion, this is the best film in the X-Men franchise in a long while. Perhaps the best since the first one.  

Yes, the premise and plot are far-fetched. Of course the characters are one-dimensional, especially Kitty Pryde and  Blink, who doesn’t get to utter a single line. And Jennifer Lawrence’s role doesn’t give her much room to display her acting skills. All that comes with the territory in this sort of entertainment. 

Pay no heed to picky film critics, such as The Telegraph’s Robbie Collin. His standards are too lofty to apply to mass-market summer films about comic book characters. I don’t require that all my films be like Ingmar Bergman. Go see this one if you want to lose yourself in frothy entertainment with awe-inspiring special effects, time-travelling butt-kicking flawed superheroes (Wolverine), scheming evil authority figures (Major Stryker),  and Jennifer Lawrence running around half-nekkid in blue body paint. That last bit made me feel I was travelling back in time myself, to the days when I was a 14-year-old boy. Total hotness, especially in 3-D!

If you’re a real X-Men fan, stick around until the credits are over for a brief bonus teaser scene for the next film: X-Men Apocalypse, due out in 2016. When the lights came up, I noticed that everyone who waited for that teaser were males of a certain age. That’s my generation. Maybe that's why the title references an old Moody Blues album. 

Link: 

Review of Reviews: Daily Telegraph

Strong Vladimir Putin

Barack Obama must stop talking about calculus (see examples below). Compared to strong Putin, it makes Mr. President sound pedantic and professorial, a philosopher king playing with abstract concepts, fiddling while Rome burns and barbarian Russia runs roughshod over Ukraine. This is Mr. Obama’s idea of tough-talking, bare-knuckles diplomacy:

“…a red line for us is we start seeing a whole bunch of chemical weapons moving around or being utilized. That would change my calculus,” Obama said. “That would change my equation.”

-August 20, 2012

“When I said in a press conference that my calculus about what’s happening in Syria would be altered by the use of chemical weapons, which the overwhelming consensus of humanity says is wrong, that wasn’t something I just kind of made up.”

September 4, 2013

“I understand that additional sanctions may not change Mr. Putin’s calculus,” Obama said during a joint news conference in Tokyo with Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe. “How well they change his calculus in part depends on not only us applying sanctions but also the cooperation of other countries.”

- April 24, 2014

Calculus! Equations! Somebody get that man a slide rule. I am concerned that this weakens the standing of the United States in the worldwide  pecking order. When strong Putin, the bare-chested ex-KGB colonel, hears language like this, he just chuckles at our impotence and sends a few thousand more troops to the Ukrainian border.

Daleks: Invasion Earth 2150 A.D.

This was the second of two theatrically released films featuring Peter Cushing as The Doctor. I saw it during the first run in 1966. It left me feeling vaguely cheated. The presence of Cushing confused me. He wasn't The Doctor I saw on TV. I kept waiting for the real one to appear. None of the actors from the TV show were  in the film. Nor was the theme song.  In fact, the film didn’t resemble the Doctor Who TV show at all, except for the presence of the TARDIS and the Daleks. This was disturbing. It seemed that a parallel Doctor Who universe existed alongside the one I was familiar with.  

Later, over dinner, I tried to explain these issues to my parents. It was akin to the disappointment I experienced years earlier, when I complained that The Mickey Mouse Club was devoting too much time to the "Boys of the Western Sea," and not enough to the Mousketeers (especially Darlene). 

The ABC Cinema in Kingston-upon-Thames (see links below), where I saw this film, has a long history -- much longer than I realized at the time I saw this film. Built in 1932, it took a direct hit from a German bomb during the Blitz. This reportedly damaged only the roof. Perhaps the bomb just crashed through the ceiling, but didn't explode. 

The building remained a cinema until 1976, when it became a bingo hall. By 2011, it was in near-derelict condition. The links below include photos showing the sad state of the place today. A few of these photos show the fine Art Deco features still in place inside the theater. Even at age 12, it seemed more comfortable and welcoming than the nearby Granada, and definitely more upscale than the tacky Kingston Kinema, which was located directly next to the old bus station.

Links:

• Wikipedia article on the film 
• ABC Cinema History 
• More ABC Cinema history
• Sad 2011 photos: the ABC Cinema in recent years

Angelology and The Book of Enoch the Prophet

I’ve finally finished reading The Book of Enoch the Prophet. I began this effort based on the role it played in Danielle Trussoni’s novel Angelology. But upon actually reading The Book of Enoch, I found much more.

Now, the rest of this post may offend people of faith, for whom religion is the foundation of their lives and a comfort in times of trouble. As always, I mean no disrespect to anyone else’s beliefs..

The Book of Enoch dates from the first and second centuries before Christ. It’s “a Jewish apocalyptic text…perhaps the most important text not included in standard Biblical apocrypha….it falls outside the canon of the Old Testament for both orthodox Christianity and orthodox Judaism.” I don’t pretend to be a scholar; all of the above is taken from the introduction.

In The Book of Enoch, I was surprised to find extensive references to concepts I didn’t associate with Judaism, including the existence of angels and devils; the punishment of fallen angels by archangels; the day of the “Great Judgment,” when sinners receive no salvation, but “their souls shall be made to descend into Sheol,” where they are “cast into “an abyss full of fire and flaming,” and “perish in wrath and grievous judgment forever” while the elect inherit the earth; and a Son of Man who is killed and sits beside the Lord of Spirits (intriguing title, that).

Further: the content of the Book of Enoch was “utilized extensively in both the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles… notably in the titles of the Messiah, Christ (the Anointed One), the Elect One and the Son of Man,” according to the introduction. (I hasten to point out that I read the entire book, not just the introduction.)

To me, all this reinforces how Judaism and Christianity are so closely related; the controversies over who was allowed to decide what is holy text; how they decided what is inauthentic and heretical and must be excluded; and how, if men made those decisions, can we view the Old Testament, the New Testament, the Bible or the Torah as anything but a synthesis of ideas which had been circulating in various forms for thousands of years.

The evolution of these texts and what was excluded even from the apocrypha must be immensely complicated. But taking all of this into consideration — and I'm sure I've just barely scratched the surface — I cannot agree that these are the literal words of God. Or even history. There is much more involved here than the literal transcription of received wisdom. It’s fascinating stuff from an intellectual standpoint. It’s a matter for scholars to research and debate. But unfortunately, I can’t accept it as a matter of faith.

If any of this interests you, get the version translated by R.H. Charles, with the introduction by “esoteric scholar” R.A. Gilbert.

The Saddle Ridge Hoard

This lucky couple found gold coins worth an estimated $10 million buried on their northern California property. Unlike the hoards we hear of in England, this one was comparatively recent, with the oldest coins dating back to 1855, and the newest to 1894. Over 1,400 coins were buried. Elements of this story

resemble the Oak Island mystery, as you can read here.

 Link: 

California Couple Finds Large Gold Hoard

Coin World, March 17, 2014

Do The Jerk

For the first time in nearly 50 years, I just listened to The Capitols' Top 20 hit from 1966: Cool Jerk.  It's about The Jerk, a dance craze that was sweeping the nation when I was in the sixth grade. For a brief, shining moment in the mid-1960s there were a number of pop songs about The Jerk. In recent days I've listened to many of them. In doing so I noticed certain common themes, including: 

• The Twine, another dance craze from the same era,

• Long Tall Sally, and 

• Going to a party where one learns a new dance. 

All of this and much more is explained below.

"Mickey's East Coast Jerk" by The Larks (1965) is the tune that started my search for Jerk-related music. Little did I know how deep this journey would take me. Built around a pounding blues riff, the chorus grabbed me at age 11 and would not let go, in part because of the juxtaposition of the words "work" and "jerk." As anyone who was 11 years old in 1965 will tell you, "work" in this context is a verb, a command  meaning "to dance vigorously." It sounds strenuous. 

Almost as memorable was The Larks' earlier effort, “The Jerk” (1964) -- but for a different reason.  At the time I thought it was one of the strangest songs I’d ever encountered. A languorous mid-tempo number with a broken beat and no danceable rhythm, it’s sung entirely in a wailing falsetto. At certain points, two falsettos harmonize. Weird, particularly when compared to the thumping Beatles and Dave Clark Five songs everyone was listening to at the time. 

The Capitols' lead singer proclaims himself the king of the Cool Jerk in the 1966 song of the same name. That's quite a distinction. This gem features a very cool proto-rap spoken part, followed by a drum and bass breakdown. The title "Cool Jerk" is a sanitized reference to a scandalous Detroit variant of the Jerk known as the Pimp Jerk.  

Ronnie and the Pomona Casuals recorded an entire long-playing album of songs about The Jerk, with titles such as Do The Jerk, Everybody Jerk, Slow Jerk, and I Wanna Do the Jerk. All are still available online. 

The Swim was yet another dance craze of the mid-1960s. In “C’mon and Swim,” Bobby Freeman begins with the exhortation “Come on everybody, come on in." Is he inviting us to a party, or a dip in his swimming pool? The song refers to a dance of the same period which I haven't thought about in a long time: The Hully Gully, which in turn was the origin of "Woolly Bully." That song never made any sense to me until I learned about the Hully Gully connection. "The Swim" was written by Sylvester Stewart, who later formed a band called Sly and The Family Stone, played at Woodstock, and descended into drug abuse and erratic behavior.

“Agent Double-O Soul” (Edwin Starr) does both The Jerk and The Twine. I must confess I’ve never heard of The Twine, except in these songs. Intriguingly, about midway through, Starr tells us:

There once was a fella/ Who was down on the rock and roll/ He couldn’t get himself together/ He didn’t have no kind of soul. 

How awful. But Agent Double-O Soul sets him straight.

Both The Twine and The Jerk reappear in Junior Walker and the All Stars’ “Shotgun,” one of my all-time favorite rhythm and blues songs. “Do the Jerk now,” Junior urges. Later, "It's Twine time." Meanwhile the guitarist seems to know only one chord, which he repeats endlessly. But it's a great chord.

In “Barefootin’” by Robert Parker, we find another common theme: going to a party. Wild, abandoned dancing ensues. Long Tally Sally throws away her wig and high sneakers too. She's doin' a dance without any shoes. "Everybody take off your shoes," Parker commands in a gruff, challenging tone. "We doin' a barefoot thang." 

“Short Fat Fanny,” written and performed by Larry Williams, features a double-barrelled reference to two of our themes: Long Tall Sally, and going to a party. Williams is tired of Long Tall Sally. That's when he met Short Fat Fanny. The lyrics themselves are ingeniously constructed from the titles of early rock and roll hits. For example, Williams tells us, describing Short Fat Fanny: "She watch me like a hound dog everywhere I go," and "She's my big fat tutti frutti." Johnny Winter (yes, he’s still alive) did a great cover version on his most recent album. That’s what lead me to the original. Williams was an interesting character. Among other things, he was Little Richard’s heroin dealer, and led a life that “mixed tremendous success with violence and drug addiction,” as you’ll learn here:

Link: Larry Williams.

“A Groove Will Make You Move” by The Jimmy Castor Bunch comes from another era, that of 1970s funk/disco. It's included here because it continues our “went to a party” theme. But it takes us much deeper. This party is “way across town,” requiring a daring late-night journey into unknown territory. At this party, everybody is gettin’ down. Even better, all the women are outa sight. 

Finally, we have Rufus Thomas’ “Do the Funky Chicken.” It’s another dance craze tune, and it has a much tougher rockin’ tone than I realized at the time. The Funky Chicken is a dance that makes Rufus "wanna do somethin' nasty." Listening to this today, this man clearly had more talent than I gave him credit for way back in 1969. He had a sense of humor as well. 

Metaphor or Symbol?

Lately I've been plagued with anxiety over job security issues. This began eight months ago, and has worsened as the ugly situation grinds along. It has become a major preoccupation. Perhaps that's why I had the following dream.

I was trying to climb out of a deep hole. I was wearing business attire, including suit and tie. The way out was clear, and the surface just out of reach. People stood above me, peering down, watching my struggle. But I wasn't strong enough to pull myself out of this cursed hole. I couldn't do it myself, and nobody would help.

Is this a metaphor? Or is it a symbol? Setting aside academic distinctions over the difference between a metaphor and a symbol, what does it all mean?

It's my belief that during sleep, higher brain functions are shut down for maintenance. With the governor -- the rational mind -- at rest, thoughts are free to run wild. We know these unhindered thoughts as dreams. Brain cells fire away unhindered by logical thought or notions of proper behavior. This is when we may confront the things we cannot bear to think about when awake. Or we simply dream nonsense.

Amanda Knox: Completely Innocent, Or Not

Aieeeeeeee!!! The Italians are still dithering around about this. I cannot believe I’m taking the time to write this post, but anyway: Telegraph columnist Jenny McCartney (see link below) writes: “Many in the US are now seemingly convinced… that the Italian court processes have been a travesty of justice. Yet there seems very little in the way of hard evidence that bears this out.”  Why the “gullible Americans” angle? Many in the UK seem convinced of the same thing.

But of course, British jealousy of Americans is not the point here. Is Knox guilty or not? Anyone who reads McCartney’s column should read this Slate.com article as well (see link below), which presents more or less the opposite view: “There was no evidence indicating Knox killed Kercher,” including no DNA evidence.

Bewildering. I feel sorry for all the parties. But enough is enough already, innit? If I was Amanda Knox, or her father, the seemingly endless nightmare of this case  would have driven me completely around the bend. That’s why double jeopardy is prohibited in the good old US of A, thank God.  

Links:

Daily Telegraph:  Meredith Kercher: a crime that defies all our assumptions.

Slate.com: The Italian Justice System Is Insane—Amanda Knox Is Completely Innocent

Books Read, 2013

A quick scan of the books I read in 2013 (see list below) reveals an overindulgence in crime fiction, particularly Scottish crime fiction. This was not my plan. It just sort of happened. I blame it on my Kindle, which has become my platform of choice for self-indulgence and instant gratification.

I always keep my Kindle handy when I'm reading The New York Times Book Review.  This is my Sunday evening ritual, and I look forward to Marilyn Stasio's crime fiction column. I can usually find something I want to buy in Ms. Stasio's columns. With the Kindle, I can buy whatever  book I want  in a matter of seconds.  It's a lot simpler and faster than my old practice, a tedious ritual of cutting out reviews of books that interested me, storing them, and then retrieving them later and ordering hard copy books delivered by mail. 

Kindle books are also cheaper than print books. When you're a compulsive book buyer and reader facing unemployment, that's a consideration. I must exert cost control over my reading habit, so that it does not unhinge long-range financial plans. 

Fiction standouts in 2013 were Jenni Fagan's The Panopticon, Hilary Mantel's Bring up the Bodies and Peter May's Hebrides trilogy. Among non-fiction books, I was very impressed by James Carroll's Constantine's Sword: The Church and the Jews.  

And now, here is my complete list of books read in 2013 (F=fiction, N=non-fiction). 

May, Peter: The Blackhouse (F)

The first in the Hebrides series, this takes place on the Isle of Lewis. I rave about this one elsewhere in this blog (click here). 

Erdrich, Louise: The Round House (F)

Another “house” book (Roundhouse, Blackhouse... get it?), this is an excellent modern-day tale of reservation Indians.

Higgins, George: The Friends of Eddie Coyle (F)

Dennis Lehane named it one of the best Boston-themed thrillers. Well worth a read. 

Nesbo, Jo: Phantom (F)

This is a Norwegian thriller, but nowhere near the quality of those Swedish Girl with the Dragon Tattoo books. I’m not hard to please when it comes to this genre. But I found Phantom tedious, hard to believe and barely worth the effort of completing.  It's hard to find anything to like about any of the characters. 

This is the sixth (groan) in a series about Harry Hole (what a name -- is the author kidding?). Hole is an ex-detective with a substance abuse problem. Exiled from Oslo to Hong Kong, he returns to Norway to help out his ex-girlfriend and her drug-addicted son, who have run afoul of Russian drug dealers. Parts of the plot really strained credibility, such as the chapter where Harry Hole (???) suddenly produces, as if from nowhere, all the equipment and knowledge required to do an impromptu forensic examination of a crime scene that entirely resolves the plot. Even worse, Harry repeatedly responds “Mmm…” when people tell him things. That’s what I call sparking dialogue. Sorry, I need more believability, more characterization and better writing than this one offers.

St. Aubyn, Edward: Never Mind (F)

I read most of this on a long flight from Pittsburgh to Las Vegas. I never felt bored. Repulsed, yes, but not bored.

St. Aubyn, Edward: Bad News (F)

Even more depraved than Never Mind. This is the second in a series of four about Patrick Melrose. Did I read the next two, Some Hope and Mother’s Milk? Frankly, I cannot recall.

Mina, Denise: The End of the Wasp Season (F)
By one of my favorite Scottish authors. Very well done.  

Morgenstern, Erin: The Night Circus (F)
The magical theme seems to have been influenced by Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. There's a link between that book, which features The Raven King, and The Raven Boys mentioned below.

Kelly, Erin: The Poison Tree (F)

Excellent London atmosphere.

Sedgewick, Marcus: Midwinterblood (F)

Young adult fantasy, beautifully written. I read it in Louisville. I’ll buy more of his work.

Brown, Dan: The Lost Symbol (F)

I never would have bought this if I hadn't been bored in the Louisville airport. Not to my taste, but I finished it anyway.

Atkinson, Kate: Case Histories (F)

Excellent English crime fiction. Jason Brodie #1.

May, Peter: The Lewis Man (F)

The sequel to The Blackhouse and the second book in the Hebrides series. Discussed elsewhere in this blog (click here). 

May, Peter: The Chessmen(F)

Third in the Hebrides series, and a return to form for Mr. May.  It includes a subplot about a Celtic band with a girl singer, bringing to mind Karan Casey (of the Irish band Solas) and Karen Matheson (of the Scottish band Capercaillie). I pointed this out to the author on Twitter and, to my amazement, he responded. Turns out I was on target. I was ridiculously pleased with myself for carrying out my own bit of detective work.  

Rankin, Ian: Exit Music  (F)

Inspector Rebus faces retirement. How awful for him. Rankin's quite reliable. This one's another winner.

Mantel, Hilary: Bring up the Bodies (F)

The sequel to Wolf Hall, this is an outstanding historical novel. It's primarily concerned with Anne Boleyn's downfall as orchestrated by Thomas Cromwell. As one reviewer noted, this is familiar territory, but Mantel makes it compelling. Anne Boleyn's story is so sad that it led me to research her place of burial, which is within the Tower of London. I can't wait for the final book in the trilogy.

Moran, Caitlin: How to be a Woman (N)

My wife bought this for herself. Having a weakness for all things English, I read it. Surprisingly, I liked it. Very intelligent,  a super writer... and she’s from Wolverhampton. Sadly, now she wants to do for socialism what she did for feminism in this book.

Galbraith, Robert: The Cuckoo's Calling (F)

Well done, J.K. Rowling! I am filled with admiration for this woman. What she accomplished with the Harry Potter books was quite remarkable. Now she shows her versatility with a damned good crime novel. I read it during our trip to London, which is where it's set.  Unputdownable. 

Carroll, James: Constantine's Sword: The Church and the Jews  (N)

I finally finished this, after starting it several years ago and setting it aside. It lays bare the scope of anti-Semitism, particularly within the Catholic Church. This surprised me, particularly since the author is a former Catholic priest. A great deal of historical research and deep knowledge of theology went into this book. It must have taken years to produce. My one complaint: I could have done without the final chapters' prescription for reforming the Church. Not that I mind reform, but that's not what I came here to read about. 

Box, C.J.: The Highway(F)

Psychotic long-haul trucker stalks hookers that work the truck stops ("lot lizards," as they're referred to here). Not a bad book,  but it lacked something.  

Cleaves, Ann: Raven Black (F)

More Scottish crime fiction. First in the Shetland Quartet. Good, and my wife liked it too. In fact, this was the only book she read on my recommendation this year.

Stiefvater, Maggie: The Raven Boys (F)

Young adult fiction. High school girl's  friends seek ley lines to find the tomb of Owen Glendower. The girl, whose mother is the town psychic, resembles Rogue of the X-Men. She cannot allow herself to have a boyfriend, or even kiss a boy, because of a prophecy that she is destined to kill the love of her life. I'll read the sequel.

Blackwood, Nina; Goodman, Mark; Hunter, Alan; Quinn, Martha: VJ: The Unplugged Adventures of MTV's First Wave (N)

Hardly a book, this is an oral history put together by a professional from disjointed reminiscences by the four named above.  Goodman appears to be an arrogant a**hole; Quinn, a sweetheart (I always knew she was); and Blackwood, a neurotic kook. 

Fagan, Jenni: The Panopticon (F)

More Scottish fiction, and one of the best reads of the year. Disturbing and heartbreaking, it reminded me of White Oleander because of its theme of children in foster care. But it's much darker. 

Card, Orson Scott: Ender's Game (F)

A science fiction novel written in 1985. Seems to anticipate video game and Internet culture. May have been influenced by William Gibson's Neuromancer (1984). Card's aliens are giant insects (or buggers, as he refers to them). That in turn seems to have influenced the film version of Robert Heinlein's Starship Troopers, which came years later.  

In the year ahead, I resolve to read more non-fiction. I'll do anything to stave off senility.