Yearly Archives: 2011

Book: “The City of Thieves,” by David Benioff

“The City of Thieves” (2008) is set amidst the siege of Leningrad during World War 2. Lev Beniov, age 17, is caught looting–in this case, the body of a dead German pilot who parachutes into his neighborhood. He is thrown into a prison, where he meets Kolya, a colorful, charismatic infantryman accused of desertion.

Both expect to be executed the next morning. But instead, a KGB (or something like that) colonel offer them a deal. His daughter is getting married, and they need a dozen eggs to make the wedding cake. In a city where people starve to death every day, food is at a premium, and eggs are nonexistent. But if they can find a dozen eggs in a week’s time, he’ll let them live.

And so, Lev and Kolya descend into the city to find eggs, or clues about where they could find eggs. Their journey exposes readers to the nightmarish conditions of Leningrad, and to people willing to do anything–anything–for a scrap of food.

The siege of Leningrad began in September 1941, when the Germans totally cut off all access to the city by land. The siege didn’t end until the end of January 1944, almost 2.5 years. During that time, 1.5 million people died, making it the most lethal siege in history. Another 1.4 million were evacuated, and many of them died. Cannibalism was common.

The opening chapter, after a prologue, begins:

“You have never been so hungry; you have never been so cold. When we slept, if we slept, we dreamed of the feasts we had carelessly eaten seven months earlier–all that buttered bread, the potato dumplings, the sausages–eaten with disregard, swallowing without tasting, leaving great crumbs on our plates, scraps of fat. In June of 1941, before the Germans came, we thought we were poor. But June seemed like paradise by winter.”

“The City of Thieves” illuminates this horrific situation. And yet, it’s not a dark book. The light-hearted character of Kolya off-sets some of that, as does the ludicrousness of their quest–eggs for a wedding cake.

They search within the city for a while, and then go outside the city, to villages behind German lines. Here they encounter prostitutes selling their bodies to Germans to remain alive, and they have run-ins with Germans and with Russian partisans. One partisan is Vika, a young girl who happens to be a crack sniper and all-around warrior–and who’s mission in life is to kill a sadistic German commander.

I can’t tell you anything more beyond this point without spoiling the story for you. Suffice it to say, this book is well worth your time.

The book is actually a framed story. It begins in modern day America, with the author sitting down with his immigrant grandfather and asking him to tell about his experiences in Russia during the war. His grandfather is Lev. We don’t return to modern times until the final four-page chapter. But let me tell you–it’s a wonderful ending. Sort of what I expected, and yet, so satisfying on every level.

I truly loved this book, and my interest never lagged. There are a number of little threads which keep you wondering–like, what’s with this book Kolya keeps talking about? But all are resolved in good time, and satisfactorily. The writing is superb, the characters are interesting and well-drawn, and the story moves right along. And in the process, you learn some good history.

Read “The City of Thieves.” You’ll enjoy it.

Share Button
2 Comments

Book: “The Woman Chaser,” by Charles Willeford

“The Woman Chaser” (1960) is not a good title for this book. The book is not about chasing women, though Richard Hudson does some of that. But he’s really chasing success, or self-actualization.

Richard Hudson comes to LA to start a used-car dealership for his boss in San Francisco. Hudson is great at selling cars, and he experiences success pretty quickly.

He also moves in with his mother and her new husband, Leo, a washed-up film producer who is 20 years younger than she is.

Richard, restless, decides to launch into the film business. He’s got an idea for a movie, which he wants to write and director and everything else–and Leo’s inside knowledge puts him on his way.

“The Woman Chaser” is told first-person by Richard Hudson, whose ego and delusions of grandeur come through loud and clear.

There is no real plot–no mystery to solve, no destination to arrive at. In that way, the book is similar to Willeford’s “The Pick-up,” or Jim Thompson’s “The Grifters.” You’re just carried along as you follow Hudson from one thing to another, and eventually the book stops.

I read this book not because of the title, but because of the author. Willeford is good. I enjoy reading his work. “The Woman Chaser” is the fifth Willeford book I’ve read.

Willeford was born in Arkansas, but grew up in Los Angeles. In 1935, he began a 21-year stint in the military, serving in various roles. During World War 2, he was a tank commander who fought in the Battle of the Bulge, and he earned the Silver Star, Bronze Star for outstanding bravery, and Purple Heart. He left the military in November 1956, a few weeks after I was born. But by then, he had already published three novels–in 1953, 1955, and 1956.

A high school dropout, after leaving the military Willeford worked as a boxer, actor, horse trainer, and radio announcer, and studied painting in France for a while. Quite the Renaissance Man. He entered college in 1960, and by 1964 had a Master’s.

Willeford’s most famous novel is “Miami Blues” (1984), the first of five books featuring Detective Hoke Mosely. I read “Miami Blues,” and really need to get to the others. I just think he’s an excellent writer who doesn’t adhere to any formulas. Willeford died in 1988, but left some good reading behind.

Previous Willeford reviews: “Miami Blues” and “The Cockfighter,” and “Pickup”, a book whose ending I’ll never be able to forget.

Share Button
Comments Off on Book: “The Woman Chaser,” by Charles Willeford

Superman Without Shorts

Comicbook Superman and movie Superman wore red shorts. But not (far right) the new Superman. For shame.

I learned today, much to my shock and dismay, that the new Superman won’t be wearing shorts. You know, those tiny red shorts he wears outside of his blue uniform, for some unknown but no doubt very important reason.

A new Superman m0vie is coming. They are, as they say, “rebooting” the franchise, like they did with Batman and the Hulk. Why they decided to remove his shorts, I don’t know. It seems unAmerican. Somebody should inform Michelle Bachman, so she could get the Tea Party riled up about it.

Superman has ALWAYS worn those red shorts. Can he still, truly, be Superman? Although, from a practical standpoint, I suppose it did take a little extra time, in that cramped phone booth, to pull on those shorts and get them situated properly. But still.

Share Button
Comments Off on Superman Without Shorts

Letter Home from a Redneck Soldier

This is good. Real good. Enjoy.

Am well. Hope ya are. Tell brother Walt & Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell em to join up quick before maybe all of the places are filled.

I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt & Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing.

Men got to shave but it is not so bad, they git warm water here. Breakfast is strong on trimmings- like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc…, but kinda weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie, and other regular food. But tell Walt & Elmer you can always sit between two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yoursa hold you till noon, when you get fixings again.

It’s no wonder these city boys cain’t walk much. We go on “route” marches, which the Platoon Sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it is not my place to tell him different. A “route march” is about as fer as to our mailbox at back yonder. Then the city guys gets sore feet and we all ride back in trucks.

The country is nice, but awful flat. The Sergeant is like a schoolteacher. He nags some. The Capt. is like the school board. Majors & Colonels just ride around an’ frown. They don’t bother you none.

This next will kill Walt & Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I dunno know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk an’don’t move – an’ it ain’t shooting back at you, like the Higgett boys at home.

All you got to do is to lay there all comfortable and hit it. You don’t even load your own cartridges – they come in boxes.

Be sure to tell Walt & Elmer to hurry an’ join before other fellers get into this setup an’ come stampeding in.

Your loving daughter, Gail

Share Button
Comments Off on Letter Home from a Redneck Soldier

Book: “The Renegades,” by T. Jefferson Parker

“The Renegades,” published in 2009, is the second Charlie Hood novel from T. Jefferson Parker. The first was “LA Outlaws,” published in 2008 (and which I briefly reviewed in October 2009). That was the better book, thanks to the superbly drawn character of LA outlaw Allison Murrieta, a sympathetic bank robber with Robin-Hoodish leanings, who becomes a folk hero of sorts, as well as a Hood love interest.

Allison Murrieta plays a part in “The Renegades,” and in fact permeates the book. But I’m not going to say anything more about her. You need to read “LA Outlaws” first.

Hood is an LA deputy sheriff. “The Renegades” begins with Hood’s new partner, Terry Laws, getting machine-gunned on the street, with Hood watching (and spared, for some reason). Hood is enlisted to find the killer. Along the way, he encounters Laws’ previous partner, Draper.

Meanwhile, a second strand begins. Draper begins telling someone his story–about how he and Laws murdered two drug money-runners, set up another guy for the hit, and then arranged with the deadly cartel leader to take over the money-running route. And pocket about $7000 each, every week.

The reader hears all of this from Draper. Meanwhile, we watch Hood trying to figure things out, while we already know, pretty much, what happened. Parker keeps injecting chapters with Draper spilling more of his story, and then we return to Hood for a few chapters.

It’s quite an interesting structure. We get information from Draper at just the right time, no more than we need. Parker dribbles it out just right. Obviously, everything points to a showdown between Hood and Draper. But even then, surprises await.

Parker actually did something similar with “LA Outlaws.” Allison Murrietta’s parts are written in first-person (like the Draper chapters), while everything else is in third person.

I didn’t learn a great deal about Charlie Hood in this book. He’s still kind of ordinary to me, nothing distinguishing him particularly from protagonists of similar books. I prefer more distinct characters like Stone Barrington, Virgil Flowers, Alex Cross, or any Robert Parker hero. But T. Jefferson Parker’s superb plotting will keep me coming back, though not rushing back.

Share Button
Comments Off on Book: “The Renegades,” by T. Jefferson Parker

Book: James Patterson’s “I, Alex Cross”

I, Alex Cross, is the 15th book in this mystery/crime series by James Patterson. He’s got a number of series out there, most written by other people under his brand name. But the Alex Cross books are what put him on the map. And except for the 14th installment, Cross Country, the Cross books are consistently good–the best books under the Patterson brand.

In this book, Cross is notified that a niece has been murdered. A little investigating shows that she’d been working as a prostitute. Other young girls have been disappearing, too. You always need a serial killer for Alex Cross.

Early on, we learn that the White House secret service is interested in these deaths, having learned that there is a connection–yet unknown–to the White House. So you’ve got two tracks going–the White House track, which is interested in cover-up and protecting the White House; and the Cross investigation.

Things end up pointing to a mansion which is home to an elite prostitution ring. And here, I’ll stop telling you what happens.

This isn’t the best Cross book (that would still be his first, Along Came a Spider), but it’s in the upper tier. Patterson redeemed himself after the miserable Cross Country. But I knew he would. He tried something new with that book, it didn’t work, and so he returned to the tried and true formula which makes me look forward to every new Alex Cross book.

On the home front, there’s Nana, always Nana. She’s something like 90 years old, and she suffers a stroke or something (I tend to skim over the home dramatics, since they do nothing to further the plot, which is my primary interest). Patterson apparently views Nana as one of his best character creations, considering all the attention she gets in his books. But I’ve grown weary of her.

Here’s to hoping Nana kicks the bucket in Number 16.

Share Button
Comments Off on Book: James Patterson’s “I, Alex Cross”

The Amazing Johnny Seven

We lived in Huntington, Ind., until I was 9. We always had our own family Christmas, but the whole family would also go out to my grandparents’ farm outside of Van Wert, Ohio, about 60 miles away. Most, if not all, of our aunts and uncles and cousins on my Mom’s side (she had three siblings) would be there. And grandpa and grandma always gave us grandkids something neat.

One year, they got us male cousins weaponry. Serious toy weaponry. We’re talking Johnny Sevens, the awesomest toy gun in the history of toy guns.

I mean, just look at that picture. Is that cool, or what?

Only three of us–me, Mike, and Brad, the oldest male cousins–received Johnny Sevens. Because it took a man to carry these things (yes, we were still under 10 years old). The Johnny Sevens had seven different weapons. One was just a machine-gun rat-a-tat-a-tat. But the others all involved shooting projectiles. They didn’t fire these projectiles very hard–more like lobbing them. You couldn’t really hurt anyone with them. But the Johnny Seven was still an incredible piece of plastic technology.

The next tier of male cousins were Stu (my brother) and Trent (Brad’s brother). They also received weaponry, something called a Monkey Gun (for reasons unknown to me). The Monkey Gun only did one thing–fire a yellow projectile. But it fired those things HARD. And if they hit you, they HURT.

We, of course, had pitched battles in Grandpa and Grandma’s big utility room in the back of the house. We older cousins would fire our Johnny Sevens at Stu and Trent, sending a missile in a leisurely lob. But coming back at us would be this yellow missile just screaming along, and when it connected, jeesh did it sting! The pipsqueaks definitely had the upper hand.

But still–we wouldn’t have traded our Johnny Sevens for anything. They were the coolest present ever from the coolest grandparents ever (at least until my own parents became grandparents).

Share Button
1 Comment

Memories of Living on the Cafeteria Fringe

I'll give you a hint: I'm in the front row.

I just read a review of “The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth,” by Alexandra Robbins, in the New York Times Book Review. The book follows 7 “outsiders” from 7 different high schools, like the Band Geek, the New Girl, the Loner, the Gamer, the Nerd.

She describes them as the “cafeteria fringe,” the students sitting by themselves during lunch against the wall, or maybe even in the hallway, rather than carrying on with a group of friends at a table.

Robbins views many of the cafeteria fringe as nonconformists, as individualists, as free thinkers. She writes, “It is unacceptable that the system we rely on to develop children into well-adjusted, learned, cultured adults allows drones to dominate and increasingly devalues freethinkers.” She says kids may get bullied for being “different,” when it’s really only that they are self-aware, creative, think for themselves, resilient, passionate. They become outsiders. Interesting points.

Fortunately, it’s just for four years. Then they leave and make something significant of themselves, maybe.

Robbins also mentions an upcoming movie called “Revenge of the Jocks,” about high school athletes who, later in life, find themselves working for the nerds they abused in high school.

Celebrities like to brag about having been nerds, unpopular, during high school. I don’t always believe it, especially when it comes from people like Nicole Kidman and Angelina Jolie. But maybe that was the case. I can see Angelina Jolie–a very distinct, noncomforming personality–being an outsider.

I don’t figure on reading the book. But it took me back to my own high school years, which still have an unusual pull on me after 35 years.

My high school years were split in half–2 years in Lake Havasu City, Ariz., two years in Tulare, Calif., after our family entered the ministry. In Lake Havasu, I never thought about being an outsider. I had a great group of friends I hung out with, and I played on the basketball team. We had a regular table in the cafeteria.

But California was a real jolt. I basically went friendless for two years. I ate by myself in the courtyard as a junior, and was joined only by my brother Stu my senior year (he was a freshman then). I played one year of basketball, and two years of tennis (including team captain as a senior), so I had some entree into the jock world. But I was still a new guy in the school, and mostly a loner. I wasn’t picked on; being an athlete helps you avoid most of that. I just never had a “group” to hang out with.

There is absolutely nobody, beyond a couple of teachers (who are no doubt retired now), whom I would care to see from that high school. Nobody. But there are a number of people from Lake Havasu I would love to see again. And then there’s Huntington College, which brought me out of the desert and gave me treasured lifelong friends.

I don’t regret those two years of high school in California. I learned a lot about myself, and learned empathy for people on the social fringe. Besides, God wanted us in the ministry, so there was no choice about it–that was where God wanted me. Yes, I have scars, but they’ve mostly faded away, and I still wear them without regret.

And I suspect that some of those jocks and cheerleaders who dominated the tables in the cafeteria have not done much with their lives. At least, the carnal side of me hopes that’s the case.

Share Button
Comments Off on Memories of Living on the Cafeteria Fringe

In Branson: Noah, the Musical

The Sight & Sound Theater in Branson

The Sight & Sound Theatre is, to me, the most impressive theatre in Branson, and that’s saying a lot (though I haven’t seen them all). It’s a massive building, with stone everywhere. Absolutely gorgeous. Biblical scenes fill the foyer areas. The theater was huge, and it was packed for the Tuesday afternoon performance of “Noah: The Musical,” which had been playing there since 2008.

The theater’s name is based on Matthew 13:16, “But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear.” They state their purpose as to “present the Gospel of Jesus Christ and sow the Word of God into the lives of our customers, guests, and fellow workers by visualizing and dramatizing the scriptures.”

Pam and I had visited Branson five times over the past 11 years, but had never attended a production at Sight & Sound. Nor were we aware of their higher purpose. That, and the quality of “Noah,” were very pleasant surprises. The play was simply amazing! And since “Noah” concludes its run in Branson this year, I’m so very glad we saw it.

The first half of this 2.5 hour production begins with God speaking to Noah, telling him to build the ark. Noah then sets about doing it, over the next 120 years. Noah’s family is united in their mission. I usually think of the 3 brothers as scoundrels, thanks to their shenanigans after the Ark lands, but that’s not how they are portrayed here. It’s a good, God-fearing family living amidst a decadent society. Noah is a man totally sold out to God, without reserve.

The ark gradually rises, ending with a structure towering 40 feet above the stage.

The second half ends with the most delightful part–the animals coming two-by-two into the ark. I think there were around 60 live animals. Two goats would come running from the side of the stage and trot right up the ramp into the ark. Then two sheep, then someone leading two horses down the center aisle, then two dogs–on and on it went. Animals came down the aisles, and from the sides, and they knew exactly where to go–right up that ramp. It was the type of scene where you’re smiling with delight the whole time.

We didn’t get tickets until a few hours before the performance, and ended up sitting a ways back, in the upper section. But I’m glad we did, and would highly recommend that people sit in the upper section, or at least in the back of the lower section. Otherwise, you’ll miss the full affect.

Early in the second half, the full set was revealed, and my jaw dropped in wonder. The audience broke out in spontaneous applause. You just can’t believe what you’re seeing.

Then the special effects really kick in. When the rain pours down and thunder booms, you feel like it’s happening all around you. Swirling lights give the feeling of the ark actually rocking in the rising water.

Much of the music was rather average, and a lot of the dialogue was routine, if not sometimes boring. Yet, the overall production blew me away. I had goosebumps several times (like when God brought the promise of the rainbow). The play was unflinching in its evangelistic message, drawing to a fabulous climax pointing to the coming Savior. As if that’s not enough, a guy came out and gave a low-key altar call.

I was moved, I was astounded. This is the final year for “Noah: The Musical” in Branson. If you’re going this year, don’t miss it. A play based on Joseph (no, not the “Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” Joseph) opens next spring. Whatever is playing at Sight & Sound when Pam and I go back in a few years, we’ll see it.

Share Button
Comments Off on In Branson: Noah, the Musical

Jeerk–A Rhythm Artist Group in Branson

“Jeerk” is five multi-talented young men from Sweden. They’ve performed all over the world. How they landed in Branson, I don’t know. But there they are, performing nearly every day from mid-March to the end of October. They were voted Best New Show in 2010. We attended their 10 am show on July 27.

They describe Jeerk as a “rhythm artist group.” Their show is a high-energy concoction of tap dancing, Stomp-like percussion, humor, and music.

At the core, they are tap dancers. When they need to recruit a new member, I imagine that the first thing they look for is superior tap dancing skills. The show opens with probably ten minutes of tap dancing. Much of their tap dancing includes the moves we’ve all seen before…and yet, it’s different, wrapped in an edgy package.

They come out dressed in very contemporary outfits resembling pajama pants with patches all over them, and modify that basic attire throughout the show. Each member takes a turn talking to the audience. All five guys have great personalities and senses of humor. They seem like a really fun bunch of guys.

While tap dancing is their core strength, the other is percussion. They can turn most any object into a percussion instrument. One song was done in the dark with metal cigarette lighters—flicking the flame, and snapping the metal hinged caps open and closed. They blew into bottles, banged on miscellaneous containers. One song found them all on stage with walkers—yes, the kind old people use to get around—banging them on the wood flood in unison. In another, after a video set-up, they all barged in through a side exit door wearing hockey gear and banged the sticks around.

It was all very creative and flawless in execution. I loved it.

They were also a very good rock band. One guy was a superb keyboardist, another a very good drummer, and another a kick-butt lead guitarist. They did several straight-up rock songs.

Jeerk is aimed at a younger demographic. My Dad went to this show, and he liked it…but didn’t love it. Mom just decided to stay in the hotel room. I know she wouldn’t have liked it. I, however, loved Jeerk and would gladly see it again.

Branson shows are known for their patriotism and Christian values. While the show was certainly wholesome in every way, there was no patriotic or Christian element (hey, these guys are from Sweden, remember). But if they had tried to inject these elements, it wouldn’t have fit. The show they presented was brilliant, and I left amazed at their creativity.

Share Button
1 Comment

Receive Posts by Email

If you subscribe to my Feedburner feed, you'll automatically receive new posts by email. Very convenient.

Categories

Facebook

Monthly Archives