Monday, June 7, 2010

Seasonal Reading List

By Steve Weddle

OK. Have you gotten your summer reading list together? Oh, for joy. Books to cram into totes and suitcases and head for the beach or the lake house. How delightful.

Smells like a crock of crap to me. And I'm from the country, so I know what a crock of crap smells like.

As a faithful consumer, I'm supposed to pick up my "Summer Reading" special in my local paper or magazine. Or listen to a list on the radio. Then run down to the discount superstore, pick up 128 oz jug of cheese doodles and a couple of "30% OFF LIST" books and read some light thrillers about some dude tracking down dirty nukes and spilling his seed. Edge-of-your-lawn chair stuff. Read a few pages, then get up to the check the ribs on the grill, then a few more pages. Then pick it up tomorrow while the kids are covering themselves in suntan lotion. Then watch the sun go down and pick up another one the next day about a too-smart woman who comes to a small town and uncovers a dirty little secret -- and a little something about herself, too. Light reading. The inconsequential stuff. Book 18 in a series of books when you can't remember what happened in 7, 9, or 15. Or the one that is basically just some notes for someone to use in making the TV movie next year.

While some of these summer reading lists might accidentally have on them a book that I want to read, most of them strike me as a cataloging of the disposable.

In the winter, I'm supposed to read bigger books. I think this comes from the days when paper was cheaper than coal and folks bought a bunch of books by this dude called Marcel Proust. Read a little, burn the rest. Or maybe read non-fiction in the winter. A nice popular nonfiction book, one about the history of cumin and how the story of the world can be told through that spice. (I think it's a spice. They mentioned it in that TV show with Helen Hunt and that guy who used to be really funny.)

But big, long, brain-taxing books in the winter. And quick but thick page-turners in the summer. Why is that? Why is it that our reading habits are dictated by the seaons? Am I not supposed to read anything in the autumn? Catch up on the free stuff over at Gutenberg?

If summer is the time we're supposed to head outdoors and enjoy our vacation with our family, why am I supposed to read books that are "unputdownable"?

Why do we buy certain books in certain seasons? Will they spoil like fruit? Like a crock of crap?

Do you read different types of books in the summer? The winter?

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Guest Blogger - The Amazing Sophie Littlefield

(insert Joelle's ethusiastic voice here) Please help me welcome Edgar Nominated and all around amazing author Sophie Littlefield to the podium. If you haven't read A Bad Day for Sorry - you should! It is fantastic. So fantanstic that it received an Edgar Nomination. (If you leave a comment to this post you might win a copy of the newly released paperback version.) The next book in the series, A Bad Day for Pretty will be released on June 8th - that's in two days for all of you keeping score. I'll be at my bookstore first thing on Tuesday morning to get my copy. I encourage all of you to do the same.

Now without further ado - the blog stylings of Sophie Littlefield!


I was wandering through Target today with a writing friend who has a lot of acting experience, wondering aloud whether I had gone too far in the scene I’ve been working on. This scene has been giving me fits. The problem is that I can’t figure out if it crosses the line on the tasteless spectrum. I know that I find it pretty darn amusing, but unfortunately I’ve learned that isn’t much of a litmus test, since my sense of humor often seems on par with an adolescent boy’s. This scene is also rather gory, and I’m aware my debut novel already danced pretty close to the edge of acceptability for my readership. Once again, my own sensibilities aren’t very helpful because I’ll tolerate more violence than many of my readers. (I know, I know, it isn’t really fair to stoke your curiosity that way without revealing the nature of the scene, but it’s so far into the series – I’m working on book four, in fact, and book two isn’t even out yet – that it doesn’t seem entirely proper. But what the hell – I’ll just say that it involves severed heads. Uh, several of them, in fact, lined up in neat rows…)

So I’ve been thinking out loud, which is just a euphemism for whining to my friends and making every conversation about me and my concerns. I’ve received a variety of responses to my proposed scene, from “Oh my God, I’m gonna be ill” to “Yay, it’s been ages since I read a good severed-head story.” And while I’m rather proud of the diversity of my friendships, this hasn’t helped me figure out what to do.

Today, though, as we mosied through the toy aisle at Target, my seventeen-year-old son trying to get my friend’s three-year-old son to play dodgeball with the merchandise (yes, we were nearly tossed out of the store, yet another proud moment for me) – my friend only shrugged and said “every director I ever had said it was easier to pull me back than spur me on. I say go for it.” That got my attention – partly because I’d heard it once before. From my agent. I was working on my young adult series and was in the throes of a similar dilemma, having to do with how far I could go with a particular sub-plot for my teen heroine. “Write it as dark as you want,” my agent said, “because it’s easier to cut or tone it down than it is to add tension in later.” Let me tell you how that played out. It was my first young adult novel, and I wasn’t sure exactly where the boundaries were. Moreover, the more I read in the genre, the more the lines seemed to be moving. I had no idea what was okay and what wasn’t, but I was sure that I wanted to explore some darker themes. After Barbara, my agent, gave me the green light to write it as dark as I wanted – and added the safety net of a promised preliminary read before we sent it to my editor – I decided to go for it. I wrote it just the way I wanted to. The result was that it did get toned down. Both Barbara and my editor felt a few things had to go, ranging from language (who knew you can’t say f@#k in a YA?) to the overly predatory nature of an adult character. But the shadow of those details remained, even after the edits were made. The emotional tone remained the same, and – most important to me – I did not feel I shied away from the tough issues I had wanted to address.

Long before my first book came out, I worried about offending readers, and wondered if I ought to try harder to “mainstream-ify” my books. Deep down, though, I knew the answer to that question: I had written a lot of books that cleaved to the norms – like the bears’ porridge, not too cold or too hot, but damn near lukewarm – and they didn’t sell. A BAD DAY FOR SORRY was my “rule breaker,” a mad caper of a book that was more or less just for fun. I did a lot of things that we, as writers, aren’t supposed to do: I made the heroine plain and middle-aged. I let her use violence even when it wasn’t strictly necessary. I let her shoot a dog. (If that’s not a career killer, I don’t know what is.) But it worked. Somehow, I managed to connect with enough readers who tolerated my excesses, and I was asked to continue the series. Today, as my son lobbed a plastic SpongeBob beach ball right at me, I vowed to keep doing what I do – pushing the envelopes and taking chances with the books. Yes, there will be those readers who hate, hate, hate the choices I make. Yes, my editor may end up with a few more gray hairs when she sees what I’ve done to my characters. And yes, I fully expect that my revision letter will contain a fair amount of what-were-you-thinking couched in the editorial notes. I’ve turned in five contracted books so far, enough to know where my strengths lie. And “subtle” isn’t one of them.

What about you – whether writer or reader, do you think there are lines that books simply shouldn’t cross? And can you forgive the author who crosses them, if the story really grabs you?

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Opening Tracks

by
Scott D. Parker

The good folks who run the NPR Music blog recently posed a couple of questions: Do opening tracks on an album matter? What are some of the best opening tracks?

My answer to the first question is an unqualified and resounding yes. I may be showing my age here but opening cuts on an album say something about the album. In some instances, the opening track is a microcosm of the entire album’s worth of songs. Take a classic example: Miles Davis’s “So What?”, the opening track on his seminal Kind of Blue LP. All that you need to know about the entire album is summed up with “So What?”. The vibe, the mood, the beat, the type of soloing, it’s all there. You almost--almost, mind you--don’t need to listen to the other songs.

A particular favorite sub-genre of opening track lore is opening tracks on debut albums. Some artists come out of the gate fully formed. In this camp, I put Chicago. The first track of their 1969 debut is “Introduction.” It is my all-time favorite Chicago track. Period. In this seven-minute song, all that I need to know about Chicago is present: awesome guitar work, tight horn section, ballad-live middle section, raucous ending. It’s a microcosm of all things Chicago.

Other stand-out opening tracks:
“Smells Like Teen Spirit” - Nirvana
“The Girl from Ipanema” - Stan Getz and João Gilberto
“Purple Haze” - Jimi Hendrix
“Break on Through” - The Doors
“Blue Rondo a la Turk” - Dave Brubeck
“Thunder Road” - Bruce Springsteen
“Where the Streets Have No Name” - U2
“If You Love Somebody Set Them Free” - Sting
“Like a Rolling Stone” - Bob Dylan
“A Hard Day’s Night” - The Beatles
“I Walk the Line” - Johnny Cash

Other times, an artist grows into his art. Here I’m thinking Bruce Springsteen. Not to speak poor of his first two LPs but, clearly, his third, Born to Run, is where Bruce Springsteen became Bruce Springsteen. I can think of others: Prince, David Bowie, Dixie Chicks, Diana Krall, KISS, Genesis, the Decemberists.

How does this relate to books and authors? I got to thinking how many debut books by famous authors fall into the former category (brilliant opening work) versus those authors who grew into their success. And I am counting books, not collections.

Brilliant debuts:
Raymond Chandler - The Big Sleep
Stephen King - Carrie
Mickey Spillane - I, The Jury
Harper Lee - To Kill a Mockingbird

Grew into their art:
Dashiell Hammett - The Maltese Falcon (3rd book)
F. Scott Fitzgerald - The Great Gatsby
Dennis Lehane - Mystic River
Dan Brown - The Da Vinci Code
Michael Chabon - The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - The Hound of the Baskervilles
Jonathan Franzen - The Corrections

Seeing this short, and incomplete, list makes me wonder if it’s easier for a musician rather than an author to break out with a stunning debut. I tend towards yes, in the general sense, since an author’s “first published book” may not be his/her actual first book written.

What do you think? And can you add some names/books to these lists?

Friday, June 4, 2010

The writing on the wall (or maybe it'll look better on the mantlepiece...)

By Russel D McLean

I don't know - I really don't - whether to be amused or worried by this.

Yes, books as decoration.

I worry that its not just the books that are becoming decoration. I am no technophobe, but I have to wonder if the way we use the new technology lends itself so well to long, complex and attention-demmanding storytelling. Can we really read a novel length work on a device that allows us to switch within seconds to some other distraction? I'm writing this post with six windows open, all doing different things. I have research windows, story windows, email windows, and this blog... and I'm jumping between them all as I write this post. Fracturing my thoughts.

Would I be able to understand a full length novel working this way?

I don't think so. Not with the same depth of understanding, anyway.

Just as worrying in the article is this quote:

"I understand there are interior decorators who will choose books for you – you don't have to read them, look at them or even put them on the shelf."

The idea - one that always worries me - of books as status symbols, of texts that one hasn't read but has chosen to say something about the reader's personality, is horrific. And yet that is where we are heading. Because books are seen as "important" in the worst possible way, it says enough to own a book rather than to have read it. To be seen with it rather than to know it.

When people come into my house, they often ask, "have you really read all these books?"

I reply, "yes, more or less," and if I haven't, then I'm going to. Because its not having the books that's important, but its the reading them, the interacting with them, the joining in of the private conversation between text and reader that really matters to me. I have books because I love to read. And its not some fancy intellectual thing either; I love books in the same way I love movies, and even some computer games. Its about the narrative, the reaction and interaction between the entertainment itself and the person being entertained.

I sometimes think we have forgotten what books are and how to use them, how to interact with them. They are not indicators of intelligence, neccesarily. They are a means of communication. They can be entertainment.

Overhearing a parent talking to their child the other day, they said, "books are what make you smart."

No, I thought. Books are something fun. Books are a way into another world. Don't tell the child "books will make you smart" because that's not a compelling argument and its what's got us into this situation in the first place, where books can be a status symbol or mere decoration designed to make us think something about the owner that is not neccesarily true.

I love books and I buy books because they remain the ideal method of telling a certain type of story. And the idea of them being mere decoration is a mockery of the very reasons they were written in the first place.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Bad Reading Spot

by Dave White

I'm in a bad way.

I can't find anything to hold my attention. Everything I pick up to read feels familiar. I think I've read it before. And if it feels brand new, I get bored with it. I can't explain it precisely, but I just can't find something to read.

Even when I find something I enjoy and do finish, it takes me forever. I'm stuck reading a chapter at a time. Three pages here. A page there. It took me 3 weeks to finish a book that should have taken me 3 days.

Seriously.

I think I'm distracted. I've got a wedding coming up, short stories and a novel to work on, and it's the end of the school year. But it's disappointing. I want to read. It's a passion of mine.

Reading is what got me into writing.

And instead, I'm sitting around reloading sports message boards and watching baseball.

Though, at the same time, I've discovered BREAKING BAD. And that's a good thing.

Do you go through reading slumps? How do you get out of them?

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

The Notes Meeting

by
John McFetridge



Last week I had a notes meeting with the producer of the movie version of Dirty Sweet. It was a strange feeling to talk about the material – the characters and situations I’d created – as if it was something we’d found.

It was sort of like talking about myself in the third person.

But the notes were all good, which was a relief. The producer was one of the producers of Chicago so I was worried he’d want to turn it into a musical. Well, he also produced movies like Exit Wounds and Knights of the South Bronx so that’s good.

The notes all had to do with finding ways to show the characters develop, ways that in the books I would just put in the narration. Some things can be turned into dialogue but some things just don’t sound right.

The process is interesting and maybe it even helps to imagine how a scene would play out as a movie. On the one hand you’d get an actual person with facial expressions, subtle little clues to their feelings, you’d get music to help the mood along, you’d get close ups and wide shots with lots of characters. But on the other hand you wouldn’t really get inside anyone’s head.

There are a few flashbacks in the book, sometimes one character tells another about something that happened years ago and sometimes a character just thinks about something that happened years ago. In some cases the dialogue can be translated into the screenplay, but for the scenes in which a character is thinking about the past, the question of flashbacks came up. Some how-to books about screenplay writing say never use flashbacks. But a lot of my favourite movies have flashbacks. The same with a narrator. The books say never, but some of my favourite movies have narration.

What do you think? Flashbacks? Narration? Yes or no? Which movies have used flashbacks or narration really well and which ones are the examples for why those things shouldn't be used?

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Four Lions

By Jay Stringer

I saw the film FOUR LIONS tonight. And if you've not seen it yet there is a big film shaped hole in your life.

It's the tale of four (later 5) British Muslims who are seeking to bring Jihad to Sheffield. You could say that each member of the team represents a different group within our society, from the father who indoctrinates his son through fairy tales, the failed and angry student who's really just rebelling against his family and teachers, to the two who are easily led but really just want to blow up crows or go to theme parks. Much of the most overtly harsh commentary, the radical, conspiracy seeking, slogan shouting extremism is given to Barry, a white guy who has converted to the more extreme elements of Islam. That decision provides some comedy and some tension, but also probably saves the director and the film from crossing a line.

They ultimately hatch a plan to suicide-bomb the London Marathon, but the details of the plot itself are really secondary to the characters and the comedy. Yes, comedy, honest. Such as a moment when the police have to learn how to tell a terrorist from everybody else; are a Wookie and a Honey Monster the same thing? Are they both a bear? Is it okay to shoot one and not the other? These are just some of the moral questions on display.

I found it an almost perfect film, something I'm glad i paid to see (fifteen quid for two tickets? Ouch.) The relationships are well observed and first time director (but British comedy legend) Chris Morris manages to find the soul and humanity of the story without ever losing sight of where these people are headed. I'm not really sure i could do the film justice in a full on review, but it has given me a few things I'd like to talk about.

First the comedy. This film is side-splitting, or at least it was to me and the audience i watched it with. And it doesn't pull any punches. How often have we seen films, TV or books that back off? That set something up but choose not to follow through? I've grown increasingly bored with stories that choose to back down, just as i don't seem to have any room left in my life for sit coms that reboot at the start of every episode. For comedy to have effect, real, lasting effect, it has to follow through. Same with drama, same with everything. FOUR LIONS recognises that the situation is as inherently silly as it is unsettling, and it plays both to full effect. We know these people and their foibles, not just as muslims but in all walks of life, so when we see them taking steps that we don't know, following through, it hits home.

I've made a promise to myself that at the first sign of 'wimping out' in a film, TV show or book, I'm going to put it aside and move on to something else. Same goes for my own writing.

The other thing I'm thinking about from the film is sympathy. Now, okay, the great sympathy vs. empathy debate is nothing new to crime fiction discussions. It's been raised at every panel or book signing I've attended, and probably belongs on one of Dave White's lists of blog cliches. I'm firmly in the not-caring-about-sympathy camp as are most writers that i talk to, so I'm not looking to raise it as if its anything new. But when you see it done well, it sets you thinking about it afresh.

The characters in the film, even the most likable and down-to-earth ones, are shown doing 'bad' things. Whether it's strapping a bomb to a bird, aiming a rocket launcher at a plane, telling your son that Simba lied to wage a Jihad, or plotting to blow up a mosque. The film never stops to say "these people are really the victims of a society that has alienated them, please give them a hug before they blow up," and neither does it try and absolve them of any wrong doing. It doesn't give them each a deep motivation or a get out clause.

The film is so well balanced, the story and characters so well told, that we do find time to like them in places, and to at east have some empathy with them in others. Perhaps it helps that there is no real moral compass in the film other than "death is a bit bad, old chap." There are no good guys on show; the police are shown to be just as trigger happy and prone to cock-ups as they people they are combating. The character who tries to talk our protagonists down off the ledge, a patient and kind Muslim, is still shown to be unable to talk directly to a female character.

With this lack of definite right or wrong, an absence of moralising, our own moral compasses reset. Suddenly we are dealing with something that feels real, that could be in our real world, that other place that lacks an overall sense of right and wrong. And again, as with the comedy, that only adds to the story telling. If the world feels like our own, if it feels like reality, then we are a little bit scared, a little bit uncomfortable, but we can also relate to whats on the screen in one way or another.

Now, that's not for everyone. Sometimes you just want to watch a movie or read a book for escapism. You don't want to be hit over the head with reality, or faced with moral uncertainty. Sometimes you just want to know that Indiana Jones is the good guy and he really needs to catch that truck.

But whilst films like RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK (my favourite) entertain me, films like FOUR LIONS make me want to raise my game.