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Books: “Night of Thunder” and “I, Sniper”

“Night of Thunder” (2008) takes place in Bristol, Tennessee, just before the big Bristol NASCAR race. Pam and I visited the Bristol track a few years ago on vacation. It’s truly an amazing track, and I could only imagine the excitement around the race. This book brings out that excitement.

Stephen Hunter has written three books starring Earl Lee Swaggard, a WW2 Medal of Honor winner and southern sheriff. He’s a fine creation, as hard as they come, maybe as tough as Jack Reacher. But Hunter’s best creation is Bob Lee Swaggard, Earl’s son. Bob is a master sniper, with the third-highest number of confirmed kills (86) in Vietnam.

Thus far, Hunter has written 6 books starring Bob Lee, with a 7th due in December 2011. I’ve read them all, starting with 1993’s “Point of Impact” (the basis of the movie “Shooter,” starring Mark Wahlburg). Probably my favorite was the 4th book, “The 47th Samurai,” which masterfully alternated between Earl on Iowa Jima and Bob in present-day Japan. That book came out in 2007, nine years after his previous Bob Lee book (“Time to Hunt,” from 1998). But Hunter has now cranked out a new Bob Lee book every year.

“Night of Thunder” (2008) finds Bob Lee’s daughter, a reporter in Bristol, run off the road in an attempt to kill her; she spends most of the book in a coma. That brings Bob Lee to Bristol, and he sets about determining who tried to kill his daughter. The cast of characters includes a woman deputy who is a crack shot, a Nascar racer, a clerk at Lester’s convenience store, FBI agent Nick Memphis (who traces back to the first Bob Lee book), and the Grumleys, a clan of criminals and killers led by a charlatan preacher. The Grumleys are planning something epic at the race,

Bob Lee is now in his early 60s, with a pronounced limp thanks to both a sniper’s bullet and a sword wound the year before (from “47th Samurai”). But he’s still tough as nails, and don’t mess with his daughter. Obviously, I can say without spoiling anything, Bob Lee figures things out, saves the day, and exacts vengeance. That’s what happens in all Stephen Hunter books.

“I, Sniper” (2009) begins with Carl Hitchcock, the number two sniper from Vietnam, being framed for the sniper killings of four anti-Vietnam activists (in real life, Carlos Hathcock recorded 93 kills in Vietnam, the 4th highest total). Hitchcock is then found dead, an apparent suicide, in a motel room. Bob Lee Swaggard is brought in to confirm that it was, indeed, Hitchcock who carried out the executions. Predictably, he determines that Hitchcock wasn’t the shooter, and that he didn’t commit suicide. And predictably, nobody believes him.

The first person killed was Joan Flanders, who is a clone of Jane Fonda. Every detail about Joan–physique, actor father, Oscar, anti-Vietnam activism (complete with photo sitting at a Vietnamese anti-aircraft gun), workout videos, marriage to a media tycoon–everything is exactly Jane Fonda. In light of the attack on Congresswoman Gabby Giffords and the “targeting” by Sarah Palin et al (after this book was published), I must say that it felt both uncomfortable and inappropriate. Hunter didn’t need to get so specific. He was, it seemed, condoning the idea of assassinating Jane Fonda. But I digress. Back to the plot.

Swaggard puts the FBI team on the right trail, and even goes undercover. But the investigation is derailed by T. T. Constable (Ted Turner–get it?), Joan’s ex. He wants the investigation shut down, and uses his connections to make it happen.

The plot increasingly surrounds Constable and his motives for shutting down the investigation, but also involves a team of bad-boy Irishmen who are former British SAS snipers, two of the other assassination victims (also anti-Vietnam activists), and Nick Memphis, the FBI agent in charge of the investigation (who also made an appearance in “Night of Thunder”).

Both books were very good, typical Hunter fare. I suppose I liked “Night of Thunder” better, but “I, Sniper” had a more interesting ending. “The 47th Samurai,” and probably “Point of Impact” (my memory is fading) were better yet.

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Review: “Footloose” 2011

The 2011 update of “Footloose” not only follows the plot of the 1984 version, but pays respectful homage to the original in various ways–from the sameness of the characters, to Ren’s attire at the concluding dance, and to the final dance shot, which is taken right from the original.

Yet, it’s also a different movie. In the 1984 movie, Bomont is a town that is simply behind the times; dancing was never allowed. But the 2011 version begins with a high-energy teen dance in Bomont. Five teens, who had been drinking, leave the dance and are killed in a head-on with a semi. That prompts the town to over-react by outlawing a wide range of activities in an effort to protect their children. Dancing and loud music are casualties.

Three years later, Boston boy Ren McCormack arrives in town to live with an aunt and uncle following the death of his mother (in the original, his family simply moved to Bomont). He arrives with plenty of angst and pent-up grief which, in this story of big-city boy comes to backwards small town, easily carries the appearance of rebellion. There’s a lot of James Dean here.

Kevin Bacon and Lori Singer, from the 1984 version.

The role of Ren made Kevin Bacon famous. This time, Ren is played by Kenny Wormald, whose previous acting credits include pretty much nothing. He’s not near the actor Bacon was, but boy, can he dance! He didn’t need a double, like Bacon did. However, a complaint: whereas you saw the joy of dancing in Bacon (and his double), Wormald’s dancing was much more serious. But alas, I’m being petty. I loved watching Wormald dance.

Julianne Hough, of Dancing with the Stars fame, did well in the role of Ariel Moore, the preacher’s daughter. She was more of a wild child than Lori Singer’s Ariel in the original, but there was a reason for that. Again, Singer was a better actress, but Hough can really dance–though this movie seemed more interested in eye candy than in showcasing her dancing ability.

Chris Penn killed with the role of Willard in the original…as did Miles Teller in the remake. That one’s a wash, if not tilted toward Teller.

Dennis Quaid had the misfortune of following John Lithgow in the role of Rev. Shaw Moore. He gave a strong performance (in the remake, Moore’s son was among the five teens killed). However, Lithgow absolutely nailed the role and defined it. I remember when Quaid played Doc Holliday in the movie “Wyatt Earp,” which came out the same summer as “Tombstone,” a movie in which Val Kilmer totally blew me away with his Doc Holliday. Quaid is condemned to be a commendable second.

They found a high-powered actress in Andie McDowell to play the minister’s wife. Dianne Wiest was far better in that role, as were her scenes with daughter Ariel and with her husband. McDowell played pretty much the same character, with the same scenes, but she succeeded in coming across as terribly bland.

Back to the story.

  • We’re in Georgia this time, not Utah.
  • There is, again, a jealous boyfriend of Ariel–in this case, a car racer.
  • The tractor race is replaced (poorly) with a bus race.
  • The “angry dance” scene takes place in a cotton gin.
  • There’s the fight scene before the final dance, with some nice twists to it (two girls beat the crap out of one of the bad guys).
  • There are blacks–many of them–in the update, but no racism themes, which was nice.
  • The final dance is simply a fall dance, not a prom.
  • The theme song is performed, well, by Blake Shelton instead of Kenny Loggins.
  • They used a lot of the same music, but with very high energy dancing.
  • The dancing in the remake is superb.

In short, the 2011 Footloose embraces everything good about the original, but updates it for today’s audiences.

One scene they left out, and which I was waiting for, came at the end of the original. It was when Rev. and Mrs. Shaw drove out to a place overlooking where the dance was being held and had a sweet scene together. They skipped that, and I missed it. I’ll bet they actually filmed it, but decided to cut it from the final release. Look for it in the DVD extras.

The 1984 Footloose is a classic, no doubt about it. The 2011 version is in no way a classic. But it stays true to the story of the original, and in so many ways pays tribute, recognizing it as a classic. It does what a remake should–updates a great story for a new generation. Too many directors get way too clever trying to inject their own twists on the plot. Director Craig Brewer–I commend your restraint.

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Book: “The One from the Other,” by Philip Kerr

“The One from the Other” is book 4 of what began as a well-known set of books called the Berlin Noir Trilogy, which Philip Kerr wrote 1989-1991.

The books center on Bernie Gunther, a private detective in Germany. All three books plunge us into involved murder mysteries, which are good enough on their own. Then you add the historical context, with all of these things happening in Nazi Germany in the background, and the books become (at least to me) utterly fascinating.

We first meet Gunther in “March Violets,” as the 1936 Summer Olympics are underway in Berlin. Then comes “The Pale Criminal,” set in 1938 as war looms. Then we jump ahead to 1947, to post-war Vienna, where Gunther tries to free a friend accused of murdering an American officer in a city divided between the Allies and the Russians (the “Ivans”). All three books are murder mysteries.

After 1991, Philip Kerr wrote a number of other books. But in 2006, he returned to the saga of Bernie Gunther, and has now written five more Gunther mysteries (“Prague Fatale” is due in October 2011).

“The One from the Other” occurs during 1949, amidst the complicated politics of Allied and Russian occupation, German reconstruction, and the continuing war trials. Gunther is asked to find a woman’s husband, whom she admits was a sadistic war criminal, to confirm whether or not he is dead. But nothing is simple in post-war Europe, with all kinds of groups competing for influence, spoils, survival, and power.

The plot is quite complicated, though you don’t realize it until you’re far into the book and discover that everything that seemed straightforward is actually a whole lot more complex than you thought. Gunther encounters SS war criminals on the run, shady Americans, and Israeli death squads. He gets beat up, he gets deceived and used–not at all an invincible hero type–and yet he finds a way. Put him in an American context, and he could be Philip Marlowe.

The ending is quite unexpected, and yet everything is wrapped up neatly. The ending also made me want to immediately begin reading the next book, “A Quiet Flame,” which finds Gunther in South America. That should be interesting.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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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).

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