A Quiet Flame

I finished A Quiet Flame by Philip Kerr the other day. I can't get enough of Bernie Gunther and his hard boiled cynicism. In this fifth book of the series, he winds up in Argentina in 1950. It was a fascinating read as Kerr knows his history well and expertly mixes it into his narrative.

So after I finished, I got on the Web to look up some of the events mentioned in the book. Curiously absent from Wikipedia is any mention of Nazi war criminals at all. None. Not even in the Argentina talk page. I can't even begin to speculate why.

But the lack of anything about Nazis escaping to Argentina on Wikipedia is part of the scary side of crowd-sourcing. Crowd-sourcing's design-by-committee ways are effective at keeping things unpublished.

Maybe nobody brought it up. Maybe it was suppressed. Maybe nobody cares.

In his author's note at the end of A Quite Flame, Kerr recommends Uki Goni's The Real Odessa as a resource on Nazis in Argentina. I certainly can't recommend any place online to get the same information.

Out of habit, I've been capitalizing "president" in that context since then. Today it struck me that nobody is anymore. A few Google searches later, I saw where the style for many news organizations is to only capitalize a political title if it's Speaker of the House. Okay, that seems kind of random.

Fortunately, there's an entire book on this topic; see "President of the United States" or "president of the United States"?: An Historical Analysis of the Evolution of the Presidency (or presidency).  The authors are Richard J. Hardy, Ph.D., Department of Political Science, Western Illinois University and David J. Webber, Ph.D., Department of Political Science, University of Missouri-Columbia, so the focus of the paper is on the political reasons for the change. It's almost as good as the angry debate I had with other tech writers at the 1997 STC conference in Anaheim regarding if there should be one or two spaces after a period (one space naturally–you're not using a Selectric anymore).

Anyway read the whole thing. It's fascinating. From the Abstract:

The data clearly reveal that before the Nixon Administration, the vast majority of publications employed the uppercase referent to the "President." However, beginning with the Nixon Administration and accelerating in the late-1970s, this near universal standard changed dramatically. Moreover, our study suggests that, contrary to popular belief, it was neither journalists, grammarians, publishers nor politicians, but prominent presidential scholars (viz., Thomas E. Cronin and George E. Reedy) who led the nation's intellectual charge to make the lowercase "president" the rule rather than the exception. We believe this grammatical relegation represents, to a large extent, both a desire by leading political scientists to make the office appear less "imperial " and a significant symbolic reaction to presidential transgressions concerning the Viet Nam War and, most importantly, the Watergate Scandal. These alterations, we contend, thus redound more from the desire by prominent political scientists to "de-imperialize" or "de-glamorize" the office than any concerted effort to establish "grammatical correctness."

The book is a style and grammar guide. Rickard was an editor for "Engineering and Mining Journal" , "The Mining Magazine", and "Mining and Scientific Press". According to the front matter, he delivered lectures at universities in an effort make engineers aware of good writing. If he had only known back then that 80 years later engineers would still write horribly, he may have given up after the first edition. From the first chapter:

It has been stated, by Sir James M. Barrie, that "the man of science appears to be the only man who has something to say, just now—and the only man who does not know how to say it". The friendly jibe of the novelist contains enough exaggeration to make it humorous to the followers of Huxley and Spencer; but could any litterateur poke similar fun at the exponents of the avowedly utilitarian branches of science—the men of technology—without suggesting an unpleasant truth?

Indeed the engineer does bungle language deplorably. He makes a fetish of efficiency, yet he shows no regard for the effective use of one of his most important tools—the pen; he believes devoutly in accuracy, yet he employs an instrument of precision as carelessly as a small boy handles a gun.

This book is better than most modern books on tech writing.

Richard K. Morgan's previous releases were all fantastic reads. Unfortunately, his latest, Thirteen in the U.S. and Black Man everywhere else, is not up to quality or the imagination of the Takeshi Kovacs novels or even the wonderfully disturbing Market Forces. Thirteen is the story of Carl Marsalis, a product of genetic engineering to produce a super soldier. Yes, this has been done before, many times, so even the concept doesn't seem fresh.

I was also let down on several other levels. The first being that Morgan has exchanged subtlety for a political sledgehammer. In this future, the United States is fractured by fundamentalist Christians who secede and take their newly formed "Republic" back to the time of intense racial hatred and ignorance. At the same time, Islamic countries have seen the error of their ways and have modernized and civilized. Yes, this is science fiction, but it's also a political thesis on everything wrong with today's America. After a while the beating of Morgan's sledgehammer became annoying.

There are also a few too many extended talking head scenes. These are used to explain philosophy and history of this dystopian future. At these points the plot grinds to a halt and making through those scenes seemed like a chore.

Finally, while this is hard boiled fiction, it doesn't have the impact as such because of the above mentioned problems as well as the F-word used so much it loses any emphasis or impact. I'm not opposed to swearing in fiction, but I think it distracts from the story if not used properly. The repetitive overuse of it was most definitely distracting.

There are some good elements in the book that made it worth reading. I especially enjoy Morgan's way of creating terminology for future technology that helps the reader visualize it without too much digressing detail. This is something he's done in all of his books and Thirteen is no exception.

Also, as with previous books, his characters are well fleshed out and are motivated appropriately. The weakest character happens to be Marsalis, who is the main character. There is little to explain what makes him "not human" in the book. You just have to accept that people know he's a Thirteen and read on.

I only recommend this book for Richard K. Morgan fans and politically liberal readers who want to fantasize about their perfect future of a literally divided United States. If you haven't read Morgan before, I highly recommend starting out with Altered Carbon, a much more satisfying read.

Side Note: Inside the "racist" United States, Morgan's book was retitled from Black Man to Thirteen presumably to avoid offending black people. You see the main character is not only black, but he's British so the title couldn't be African American Man. I'm assuming Morgan sees the irony in that already.

A couple of years ago, I was looking for something to read one sleepless night and pulled from my shelf a book called You've Got to Read This : Contemporary American Writers Introduce Stories that Held Them in Awe. In it, John Irving writes an introduction to A Christmas Carol asking the reader to read it with new eyes. It occurred to me that I had never actually read it. I knew the story from bad movies and cartoons. So I did and I was blown away by the finely-crafted prose and vivid characters. It's a great story.

Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dog-days; and didn’t thaw it one degree at Christmas.

External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather didn’t know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect. They often “came down” handsomely, and Scrooge never did.

One thing I took away from the story was that Scrooge wasn't a villain because he had money. He was demonized by Dickens because of the way he cut himself off from the world. For all of his money, Scrooge lacked compassion for others and was bitter and isolated. Scrooge lacked moral fiber. Money without morals, ethics, and an appreciation for how it was earned ate away at Scrooge.

Christmas is tomorrow and I have this new appreciation for A Christmas Carol. It is a tale of morality and humanity; it is not a tale of greed gone wild like so many people think it is. Dickens wrote about how Scrooge's nephew reached out to him as well as people in the community looking for Christmas donations for the poor. Wealth in itself is not evil. Scrooge was wealthy without a sense of humanity. That's the point of the story. To say that money is the root of all evil is a tired cliché and yet that is the focus of many of the A Christmas Carol adaptations. Instead, read the story and learn the importance of people. Watch Scrooge's transformation and how he used his wealth to enrich other people's lives. Money is a tool and Scrooge eventually learns how to use it properly.

Merry Christmas

I read The Da Vinci Code a while back and I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I think because I've heard a resurgence of discussion here and there surrounding its premise. A few weeks ago, I wrote about fiction that is nothing more than a hollow conduit for the author's research. I included The Da Vinci Code as one of those books. There were those who thought I was crazy for thinking the book wasn't so good. To be honest, I feel like Elaine in "Seinfeld" when she can't stand The English Patient.

It's not that Dan Brown's premise is not intriguing. In fact, I was so interested in his research that I started searching the Web for more information. I found a great site that objectively discusses some of his assertions: Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code, The Last Supper. This site contains a number of factual problems with the book. For example:

The Samaritans only recognize five books in their Bible. The Ethiopian Orthodox church has 81 books in its Bible. The Syrians have 22 books in their Bible, while the Roman Catholics and Protestants have 27 books.

Dan Brown's error in this case is that there are NOT 80 non-canonical gospels! Sure, we just discovered a few more gospels in the last century which is rather amazing after 2000 years. But most researchers agree on a total gospel count of about 35.

If you have not read The Da Vinci Code, I'll let you you in on a little secret: the entire book is built on the premise that there is more to Christ than what the Bible actually describes. Yet Brown seems to be a little sloppy with his facts (as shown above). Fiction has an interesting paradox; if you perform research and get the details wrong, you can destroy the illusion for readers who know the subject matter. For example, you can make a movie about aliens destroying the world and I'm right there with you until you show Air Force personnel wearing hats and saluting indoors. In this book, if you are familiar with the artwork, the history of the church, or even the geography of Paris, the errors are apparent.

But what really bugged me about the book wasn't the fact-checking (or lack thereof). I was mostly disturbed by the simplistic and immature writing style. Brown has four books to his credit and his writing is full of cliches, two-dimensional characters, and predictable plots. In The Da Vinci Code, he writes with a omnipotent point of view and interjects the characters thoughts in the middle of the narrative, which becomes über annoying about ten pages into the novel. Not only are the characters' thoughts scattered about the text, the thoughts are also painfully obvious statements. It's like Brown's characters are zapped with a blindingly obvious thought ray (BOTR) in every friggin' scene. Here is an example:

Walking toward the bare wooden wall, Sophie sensed the chanting getting louder. Hesitant, she leaned her ear against the wood. The voices were clearer now. People were definitely chanting . . . intoning words Sophie could not discern.

The space behind this wall is hollow!  [ed. Huh, no shit]

Feeling around the edge of the panels, Sophie found a recessed fingerhold. It was discreetly crafted. A sliding door. [ed. Really? I'm glad she told me or I wouldn't figured it out when she slid the damn door open in the next two sentences!]  Heart pounding, she placed her finger in the slot and pulled it. With noiseless precision, the heavy wall slid sideways.

Holy crap! There's only so much of the BOTR I can take.

Brown also switches point of view character every chapter. The average chapter length is something like five pages. I think he does this so he can switch the point of view without clumsy transitions. My point is that the book needs some serious editorial and stylistic polishing. So much so, it was distracting.

So there you have it. That's why I'm not a fan of The Da Vinci Code.

I'm really not a book snob. Really. I'm serious. Don't you believe me?

I went to New York to discuss it with Alan Pakula. He hated the script and gave me the best writing advice I ever got from anyone.

"Forget the research," he said. "Go back home and use your imagination, make it up. Don't lean it on great lines and great characters you've heard and seen, just make the whole thing up."

I went back home and did exactly that. It was the most fun I'd had writing anything. It was the most fun I'd ever had writing a screenplay, the greatest natural high I'd ever felt. Out on a high wire every morning, way out on an edge, playing God, just . . . making . . . it . . . all . . . up.

And, after nearly three years of my morning ritual, I stopped throwing up.

Disclaimer: I'm not a published novelist, but I will rant anyway.

In the age of Tom Clancy and the hard sci-fi of Steven Baxter, I think writers have forgotten how to spin a good yarn. I was just reading The Consciousness Plague. I couldn't finish it. Mainly because the dialog went something like this:

"Say, Bob, did you know that 30% of memory loss occurs in adults between the ages of 25 and 85 who have a history of reading crappy fiction that's used as an outlet for the author's research?" inquired Frank as he sipped is overly hot coffee from the cup he just purchased at McDonald's with the money left in his pocket by his girlfriend before she was murdered.

Frank's gaze became perplexed as he twisted his handlebar mustache his wife has been trying to get him to shave off since his partner was killed nine months ago. "I know. But our mystery goes deeper since these authors continue to get published and even have best sellers. For shame."

I always try to finish books, but this one was too much. It's like the popularity of The Da Vinci Code. Sure the ideas are compelling, but the core story is a hollow shell for Dan Brown's research. I know it's possible to write well-researched fiction, but I'd be more forgiving of the impossible if the story was unique, well-written, and empty of clichés. For instance, Ray Bradbury, whom I worship as one of the best writers of the twentieth century, wrote The Martian Chronicles with no basis in science, but one of the best sci-fi books ever.

A note to writers: write with your heart and use your head to edit.

What has really inspired me to get back into it is reading fiction again. I just came out of a dry spell where I didn't read much for a couple of years. Then a friend told me about The Eyre Affair. It intrigued me a enough to read it and I fell in love with the classics all over again. I have since read the subsequent two books and thought they were all brilliant. There is nothing that compares to reading a good novel except writing your own creative work. I highly recommend it

I may create a writing log on this site as a way to keep myself honest.

Main Entry: in·sure
Pronunciation: in-'shur
Function: verb
Inflected Forms: in·sured; in·sur·ing
transitive verb : to assure against a loss by a contingent event on certain stipulated conditions or at a given rate of premium : give, take, or procure insurance on or for intransitive verb : to contract to give insurance : also : to procure or effect insurance

Main Entry: en·sure
Pronunciation: en-'shur
Function: verb
Inflected Forms: en·sured; en·sur·ing
transitive verb : make certain of; "This nest egg will ensure a nice retirement for us"; "Preparation will guarantee success!" [syn: guarantee, insure, assure, secure] 2: be careful or certain to do something; make certain of something; "He verified that the valves were closed"; "See that the curtains are closed"; "control the quality of the product" [syn: see, check, insure, see to it, control, ascertain, assure]

Yes, they sound alike, but they are different. Got it?

It's interesting to me on several levels. One, the French academics don't like individualism and that apparently negatively colors their opinion of the Harry Potter series.

Two, the fact that the Harry Potter books are discussed as works to be debated at this level makes me wonder about the current state of literature. I like the books, sure, but they are what they are. I didn't see a Christ figure buried under poetic metaphors and classical references.

Finally, has Harry Potter replaced Jerry Lewis and Michael Moore as favorites?

Bradbury, who hadn't seen the movie, said he called Moore's company six months ago to protest and was promised Moore would call back.

He finally got that call last Saturday, Bradbury said, adding Moore told him he was "embarrassed."

" He suddenly realized he's let too much time go by," the author said by phone from his home in Los Angeles' Cheviot Hills section.

Joanne Doroshow, a spokeswoman for "Fahrenheit 9/11," said the film's makers have "the utmost respect for Ray Bradbury."

" Mr. Bradbury's work has been an inspiration to all of us involved in this film, but when you watch this film you will see the fact that the title reflects the facts that the movie explores, the very real life events before, around and after 9-11," she said.

This tells me many things about Moore. I don't think a six month delay in returning a phone call to Bradbury was a mistake. The call was coldly calculated to be returned after the movie was released. I'd bet any film maker in Hollywood would return Bradbury's phone call right away. Moore didn't call him back because he didn't want to have to change the name of his film.

Now they are trying to equate the current political environment to Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 world, which is not not really comparable. This strategy of exaggeration is typical of Moore's past projects where the facts were distorted, timelines were placed out of order, and some scenes were completely fabricated. So now Moore is trying to market his film by leaching onto one of the twentieth century's most important literary classics. The author of the book, Bradbury, is obviously distressed by this misuse of his book title.

Legally, I'm not sure how much leverage Bradbury has to change the name of the film. I don't think book titles are protected by law. In addition, Moore can claim it's a parody, which is permissible by law (unless you parody PETA, which is apparently can't be done). However, this goes beyond what's legal to what is right. Morally and ethically, Moore should have responded to Bradbury immediately. His disregard for the truth is apparently matched by his disregard of responsibility. I'm sure Moore had attorneys go over the pros and cons of naming his film Fahrenheit 9/11. Bradbury wanted to talk to him and it's obvious that Bradbury disapproves. Moore doesn't care and that's what bothers me more than the politics.

You have somebody who will do or say anything to move ahead with his agenda. Bowling for Columbine won an Academy Award for best documentary when it's been shown the film is anything but truth. When called on the carpet about fallacies in his books and films, he says it's comedy, yet he markets these films as factual. This is the same disregard for morality and truth as the Enron executives had for their financials. Moore is so quick to point fingers, but he obviously doesn't live by any kind of moral standards himself.