Remember Me by Trezza Azzopardi
Publication Date: January 7, 2005
Remember Me by Trezza Azzopardi
Publication Date: January 7, 2005
Preamble: As someone who has been trying to slog through the first chapter of the writing of a novel for the past 3 years, I am amazed and perplexed by people who can churn out books at a rapid clip. Ruth Rendell is one such author that astounds me. A British mystery writer, about whom the Richmond Times-Dispatch says: “To call Ruth Rendell prolific is akin to calling the Grand Canyon a slight dip in the landscape”, she has published more than 50 mystery and detective novels and more under a pseudonym. I have read every one of her books rand she keeps putting them out, and they continue to command respect and satisfy her legion of fans like myself, creating addictive reads with well defined and drawn characters and chilling scenarios.
I’ve never read James Patterson, but have seen his books on beach blankets and airplanes and I assume he started out like everyone else, with one book, that he struggled to get published. Apparently he has sold an estimated 15+ million copies of his books in 38 different languages. I’ve read books by Stephen King and John Grisham and even Danielle Steels, but apparently James Patterson outsells them all. Actually, it’s not even close. According to a Forbes article, in 2010, Patterson earned his publisher, Little, Brown & Co., a division of the Hachette Book Group, a staggering $500 million over the previous two years. In addition to Patterson, the publisher is now home to such thriving commercial novelists as Michael Connelly and Stephenie Meyer, as well as consistent best sellers like Malcolm Gladwell and David Sedaris.
Patterson is exceedingly prolific, with the help of his stable of “co-authors”, he has published up to 13 books a year. Now let’s be clear. In addition to his two editors, to support his prodigious output, Patterson has three full-time Hachette employees (plus assistants) devoted exclusively to him: a so-called brand manager who shepherds Patterson’s adult books through the production process, a marketing director for his young-adult titles and a sales manager for all his books. Still, James Patterson puts out more best sellers in any given year than many publishing houses and that is freaking impressive.
Now I will go back to putting the finishing touches on my chapter one.
The Sky is not the Limit by Neil deGrasse Tyson
Book Binding: Paperback
Pages: 203
ISBN: 978-1-59102-188-9
Shipping Weight: 1lbs
(Dell, Mass Market Paperback, 9780440351627, 672pp.)
Publication Date: April 1, 1985
Everybody is talking about the King in Yellow, because they are watching True Detective. I decided to read it – not to write about its influence on True Detective.
The King in Yellow is a collection of short stories written by a guy named Robert Chambers (not the Preppy Murderer of the same name), in 1885. A little research tells me that Chambers has the distinction of having been one of those rare classic writers who was actually successful during his lifetime. And he didn’t kill himself or die of Syphilis, or drink himself to death in a NYC pub or die with a needle in his arm. He didn’t suffer addiction to prop himself up under the weight of his own genius, nor did he spend his final days wandering around the streets of Baltimore prattling on like a lunatic.
I was reluctant to read this at first, as “horror”, and worse, “turn of the century “weird” fiction” is not really my bag. But the introduction suggest that Ambrose Bierce and Edgar Allen Poe were Chambers’ main influences – the Poe-Bierce-Chambers-Lovecraft continuum was good enough for me. Themes center around characters experiencing a rapid descent into lunacy, replete with disturbing visions of unearthly things and dire real-world consequences of interacting with them. There’s so much lovely imagery coupled with the absolutely terrifying stories, that I was hooked. The stories are beautiful and creepy and macabre, with heavy use of ambiguities enhancing the dread. There are the weird, creepy names like Carcosa and Hastur, as well as strange terms like “twin suns” and “black stars,” and the fact that the color yellow is so blatantly ominous, with connotations of insanity, death, and decay.
My Struggle, Book 1 by Karl Ove Knausgaard
(Farrar, Straus and Giroux, Paperback, 9780374534141, 448pp.)
Publication Date: May 28, 2013
What fiction writer – if any – could have conceived of Sarah Palin without completely blowing the boundaries of reality? Dickens? Shakespeare? Ruth Rendell? In children’s fiction, maybe, where a parodic lunatic still has its place. It’s not really in grown-up literatures nature to have stone cold villains, coal-black embodiments of evil. Serious literature has no shortage of killers, molesters, kidnappers, cannibals, misanthropes, black widows, bloodsuckers, pederasts and politicans…and there are plenty of literary counterparts to modern assholes (change Italy to Iraq in Catch-22, and Milo is Dick Cheney and Colonel Cathcart is George W), but of the snidleliest whiplashes ever to have bound sweet damsel to train track, has any serious writer of novels ever conjured up a sub-literate rube from a weird, frozen tundra, a vicious “hockey mom” to 5 terrible children who shoots wolves from helicopters? Or a character as farcical as “Anne Coulter”, or as grotesque as Roger Ailes?
Heavy is the head that wears the crown indeed. When we first see King Hamlet’s brother Claudius, he seems a well-spoken and capable ruler. He gives speeches that makes his court and country proud. When King Hamlet is killed, the people unite behind a collective suffering. Claudius diplomatically avoids war with Norway, and is respected as a leader who can take immediate and decisive action in a crisis. In private, however, King Claudius is a villain of cartoonish proportions who Hamlet’s Ghost refers to as an “incestuous, adulterate beast”, and we soon realize that Claudius is what is “rotten in the state of Denmark.” Claudius and his corrupt court bask in their power, representing the worst in human nature — ambition, lust, corruption, and excess. Morally weak, Claudis swaps his humanity for political power and and some stuff. He denies Rozencrantz and Guildenstern the knowledge of the contents of the letter to England that would have saved their lives. He lets Gertrude drink the poison in the goblet so as not to implicate himself in the insidious plot (#Gobletgate). His sure fire plan to deal with young Hamlet completely unravels when Laertes confesses.
Considering Chris Christie’s long track record of petty revenge against his perceived enemies, and that an old lady died as an indirect result of #Bridgeghazi, he ventures into Shakespearian Villain territory. Cartoonishly large and emotive, Christie is an effective stump politician and a formidably effective communicator, famous for making the complex seem deceptively simple as well as for his withering put-downs of public service unions. Until the unravelling of #Bridgegate, Christie was arguably the most popular politician in America and a rare figure of bipartisanmanship in a party monopolized by psychopathic ideologues and Teabaggers. His public bromance with the President, wearing matching windbreakers in the wake of Hurricane Sandy, appealed to those weary of polarized politics.
Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds
by Charles MacKay
www.bnpublishing.com, Paperback, 9781607960744, 484pp.)
Publication Date: January 2009
SPOILER ALERT: if you’ve managed to avoid this book for the past 35 years.
Because of Lifetime’s new movie adaptation of Flowers in the Attic, I got to thinking about this ridiculous book. V.C. Andrews’ best-selling “novel” of bad parenting, greed, whips and a love so taboo it dare not take a DNA test, has endured for 35 years as a nostalgia-fueled oddity. Back in the day, we would read the book – the scary cut-out paperback cover version – aloud on the school bus, laughing and gasping at the campy, hilarious, thrilling tripe. Consdering the book snob I was, it’s amazing that I stooped to reaing this trash, I knew it was really scraping the bottom of the barrel. But, in the mind of a pre-teen, Flowers in the Attic was kind of like watching a more sinister version of General Hospital.
The 1979 “novel” told the sad tale of four very blond siblings who get locked up in an attic for three or four years, and a series of increasingly terrible events take place, including but not limited to: the aforementioned whipping, hair tarring, starving, poisoning by arsenic doughnut, and incestual sex (between the older ones, although the younger ones would have gotten around to it, had the boy not been murdered by arsenic by his mom). It rolled tortured gothic drama, over-arching pseudo-Victorian syntax, orphan fantasy, and uniquely framed teenage rebellion and yeah, a heapin’ helping of incest (Cathy is raped by Christopher the first time. Later, she is fully on board), into a paperback package that sold 40 million copies. V.C. Andrews was (she’s been dead for 20 years but few seemed to notice as V.C. Andrews never missed a beat, under the tutelage of a ghostwriter), a terrible writer. The book is full of puerile and ridiculous dialogue and plot holes, but the fact that this story can still provoke such strong emotions in so many of my ilk is a testament to something.