Monday, September 28, 2015

Red Moon Revenge and Walt Again

Last week's pre-blood red moon madness culminated with a visit from a customer who shared some defiant words with me.  Having time to chat and get to know customers and their tastes is one of the perks of being a small indie in a neighborhood rather than existing in Manty's bustling 8th street mecca!.  Eventually, she boldly pointed out two books amid the many offerings we have on display.   First, she called my attention to a shirtless mermaid on a book cover, "That's inappropriate".   She followed that by vigorously tapping the cover of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, a long respected Penguin edition of the book with a naked Frank, seen from the side, curled in a fetal position - "And that is inappropriate."

  Up to that point, my conversation with Sister Mary Inappropriate had been civil without a trace of judgement or hint of unpleasantness.  But when the Puritancal criticism surfaced, it took my by surprise.  Did I mention that SMI is all of nine years old!  No more fancy moons for a while, please.

Oh, one more little tidbit.  It didn't take long for one our our younger customers to discover the piano.  Two or three time a week she gives me call to say she is working on a new vocal - usually something by Whitney Houston -and would like to practice it as I play.  So far she hasn't noticed that my playing is not so good, but when she does, I'll let you know how that goes.

Now.  Longmire.  For years former Manitowoc resident/friend/novelist/guest blogger, Steve, pushed me to give Craig Johnson books a try.  I resisted.  Westerns?  Not for me.  Steve wrote blog posts.  He sent info from Johnson's website.  He copied and pasted words from email blasts sent by Johnson (or his publicist) making it seem as if the Longmire author was writing directly to me.  None of that worked.  But when I discovered the A&E series based on the books, things changed.  The characters pulled me at first, and the plots were good.  As I developed into a dedicated watcher, it seemed clear that an hour TV show could not do justice to this complex character and so I tried book one in the Longmire series.  To be honest, it was OK.  I passed it on to another Longmire TV fan in my book group.  She and I have similar taste and when she gave it a thumbs I figured I must have rushed through it.

So now, since the Longmire series is only available on Netflix streaming, I find myself working my way through yet another Craig Johnson book.  Thumbs up this time.   With books I generally drawn to style first, characters second and plot third.  If the style doesn't wok for me, I rush, I skim, I walk away.  In this case, all three component work for me. Walt Longmire, Henry Standing Bear and Vic form the triumvirate that keeps the plot moving and  the long, eloquent narrative passages mesmerize.  These aren't shoot 'em up westerns or cowboys vs Indians.  These stories are anchored by conflicts more mental and spiritual that physical. Magically,  Johnson allows me to feel the long silences that characterize Walt's skill of saying the most he can in the least number of words along with Henry Standing Bear's the wisdom born of pain.  Vic - she's the Everyperson  - she is us.  

A Craig Johnson book once a year sounds reasonable - and manageable unlike my plan to read a Dickens novel and a Shakespeare play each year.  And then there was the years of Hemingway that wasn't.

If you plan to pick up a Craig Johnson book let me make this suggestion.  Wait for a snow storm.  A day when you can't escape.  Open a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle's bourbon and take advantage of the long, quiet hours with Walt and the diverse citizens of Asaroka, Wyoming.

Up next...If Walls Could Talk ...the history of a home

Monday, September 21, 2015

Hemingway, Elvis and a Couple Fights


Yup!  Another Hemingway checked off.  Of course, I will not accomplish my goal of reading all his work this year.  This stuff is exhausting.  "Snows" may be a short story, but Hemingway packed it full of artistry. Much of this semi-autobiographical work is told through stream of consciousness sequences in which the main character ruminates - with great bitterness - about the missed opportunities in his life.  Harry is dying of gangrene due to an untreated scratch he received while on safari.  The fever and the fear death feed his need to philosophize.  Regret regret regret - loves unfulfilled, women used and tossed. books unwritten, talent not used...and the biggest regret of all - nothing stood in his way except himself.

Harry is the typical cold, unhappy, callous Hemingway man.  Interestingly, most of the women in "Snow" display whispers of strength, but seldom do they assert themselves enough to press either themselves or Harry into action that could take them away from the seedier sides of life.

Symbolism? Oh yes.  More than I recall in other Papa H writing.  The frozen leopard atop the mountain, vultures, hyenas and the mountain itself.  For me, a symbol has to be purposeful and in this case, they are. Sure, I can see where debate is possible, and in some cases the symbols have multiple layers, but theses are not so cryptic as to render them little more than pompous displays of "Look what I can do."  

Time to pick up a happier book.

On the LaDeDa front...things were hopping around here on Friday beginning with a customer altercation. Oh my goodness.  Such exciement.   A brother and sister stopped in after school for Italian sodas.  The little brother announced that his sister has a new boyfriend.  She screamed!  She shouted.  He laughed.  He didn't take the hint when she told him to stop or else.  When he continued to shout out the boy's name "or else" happened.  The sister got him in the best 4th grade girl  head lock I have ever seen.  You go girl.  When little brother refused to stop calling out the boy friend's name, she suddenly unlocked the death grip. She snapped to attention and I saw tears well up. Then she ran and locked herself in our bathroom and cried.  Between sobs she managed to inform me that she was never coming out.  I went to the car and told mom. Soon the door was unlocked and off the siblings went.  I can only imagine what that ride home was like.

Then, of all things, an Elvis impersonator walked into the store.  It seems he has written a couple books. In one, he recounts his 50 years of entertaining as a faux Elvis and another is a murder involving Abraham Lincoln.  The third book has three titles : Elvirus! Elvi-Geddon, Dawn of the Elvi Invasion.  Rather than me trying to explain, here's what the back of the book has to say....

Elvis is everywhere.  Elvis impersonators are taking over every facet of our society.  T.V.  Movies.  Social Media.  Education and even Politics.  A group of 100 Elvi in 1977 has grown to over 100,00 with no end in sight.


There's more, but that gives you an idea.

Later that night, our book group met to discuss Peyton Place.  Fireworks!  I can't remember the last time we had such emotional disagreements.  For the record, most of the group enjoyed the book, including me and yet the points of contention got...well... contentious.  This isn't the first time I have left a discussion thinking that I don't belong in a book group.  My taste is often different for others, and as a result I walk away wondering if my logic and my view of the world is warped.  Maybe we have grown so close that we have left any pretence of politeness behind and can  disagree more like sisters than the group of strangers were were 8+ years ago.  Still, that's a tough concept for an only-lonely like myself.  Anyway....

Thanks for stopping by.
What am I reading now?  Not sure.  I just received an Advance Reader Spy of a little mystery set in Lily Dale, that quirky new age community  in New York that I wrote about a few months back.  Realistically though, I think it's time for me to read I am Malala.  We'll see.....

Monday, September 14, 2015

Spirit of the Rivers

Last week my friend Karen and I peeped into the windows of Skip Wallen's studio where he and his brother are working diligently on an impressive piece of public art. We sure were surprised when Skip unlocked the door and allowed to to nose around.  

Although I am not fond of the overused word "awesome" that seems to be the most appropriate description of what we saw that day.  Awe.  The photo at the left is a prototype of what will eventually be a 16 foot sculpture paying homage to the Lakeshore's early history.  I spent a long time simply looking into the emotional faces that had emerged from once stoic and unformed blocks of clay.  Skip has coaxed life from something lifeless.  The monument is scheduled to be completed in 2016.    Here's a bit of information from the Spirit of the Rivers web page -



Spirit of the Rivers is a monumental bronze sculpture group to be situated on the Lake Michigan shore between Manitowoc and Two Rivers, Wisconsin.  Celebrating the culture and history of the earliest inhabitants, the monument reminds us that people lived on this shore for countless generations before the first axe struck timber to develop our present cities.  The birch bark canoe, held aloft upon the shoulders of the portageur, stands as a tribute to the first vessels to ply these waters and foreshadows our rich maritime history.
The beauty and grandeur of Spirit of the Rivers will bring pride to area residents and attract visitors to our lakefront for generations to come. It will be a newsworthy undertaking as a collaborative public art project between the cities of Manitowoc and Two Rivers and serve as an educational resource for the communities.
For more information and additonal pictures of the work in progress go to www.spiritoftherivers.org


In celebration of the project, the Spirit of the Rivers Educational Committee is hosting author Helen Frost who will speak about the connection between the diamond willow and the monument.
October 23
Spirit of the Rivers Studio
822 Franklin Street
6:30-8:80
We have books in stock and will be at the event 
selling books with Helen.

What am I reading?  "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" -a Hemingway short story that seems so familiar that I think I read it in the recent past...or is is simply that all Hemingway mean and women share similar characteristics?




Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Peyton Place...again


This interestingly ironic note turned up in my inbox today from our friend, writer, and guest blogger, Steve.

today is a significant one for peyton place fans and readers - garrison reported this morning it is the birthday of Grace Metalious - here's the write-up

It's the birthday of novelist Grace Metalious (books by this author), born in Manchester, New Hampshire (1924). She wrote the scandalous novel Peyton Place (1956) about a small New England town that is filled with sex, rape, murder, and suicide.

Metalious was a stay-at-home mother of three children, and she wrote the novel to help her husband pay the bills. She got the idea for the book in the middle of the night and wrote it in 10 weeks. It was the first work of fiction she ever published. She based part of the book on a town secret about a woman who murdered her father, and when the book became a best-seller, the locals in her town were horrified. It was banned in libraries across the country, and the public library in her hometown didn't have a copy until the 1990s.

After her death, the book was made into a TV series that became the first ever long-running primetime soap opera, and all primetime serials since then have been based on its example.


now isn't that interesting?

No kidding that's interesting, especially if you read last week's mini-post saying that my book group is reading PPlace as our September book.  Let me start by saying this wasn't the best book I have ever read, but it wasn't the worst either.  Not having read other pop fiction from this era, I have no benchmark. The late 60's saw the rise of many existential writers, mostly playwrights like Pinter and (my fave) Beckett.   But pop fiction - maybe Please Don't Eat the Daisies or a few titles by Victoria Holt or whichever of her multiple pseudonyms she was using a the time.

On Sunday afternoon I canned tomatoes, pickles and peppers for the fist and last time in my life.  While veggies bubbled and boiled on the stove, things bubbled and boiled in Peyton Place as well.  If you decide to read this book, don't let the 400+ pages scare you.  Dialogue helps move the plot along nicely, and face it, we aren't talking Faulkner here.  I would describe Metalious'  style as simple and old-fashioned.  At times her character descriptions are painfully overworked, and Metalious uses far too many similes and hyperboles for my taste.  Give me a solid metaphor metaphor any day but those hover on the cusp on symbolism and may not have been her forte.  At first I was annoyed by the the meandering prose of the opening sequence, but then it dawned on me - she's painting a Norman Rockwell portrait of Peyton Place.  Then just at the right moment, Metalious shifts her attention to two locals sitting on bench observing and passing judgement - passing judgment mostly on women.

From there the book shifts into high gear, the clown car of social issues revving, exploding and more often than not backfiring into the lives of those living up and down Elm Street.  There's incest, rapr abortion, murder, dishonestly, political corruption, womanizing, alcoholism suicide. lust, pre-marital sex, and more.  Of course, with each of these come big questions, ethical questions to be considered and, in some cases, re-considered.

I understand why this book was shocking in 1957 and I must say that Metalious was near genius when it comes to planting those explosive scenes.  Her sense of when and where to startle us with language or gasp-worthy dalliances is impeccable.   "Have things changed?" I asked myself more than once.  You know, if we all look at a simple 5 or 10 square mile section of our own towns, I bet we'd find many of the same situations that caused such a stir in Peyton Place.  My hope is that we have matured to a point where we look at those situations - which frankly are none of our business - with kinder eyes.

Thanks for stopping by.