For Those Who Miss Attending Conferences (and boy, was Christa a great interviewer)

Left Coast Crime, two weeks ago. (Robert Dugoni was also a guest of honor but his interview isn't up yet).

 

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRiey7plCxo

FFB: I AM THINKING OF MY DARLING, Vincent McHugh

reviewed by: R. Narvaez was born and raised in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.  NOIRYORICAN is a recent publication.

I Am Thinking of My Darling, Vincent McHugh

A virus. The City. Civic chaos. Government collapse. The stuff of zombie flicks and terrorist scenarios in 2010. But back in the ’40s, such a plot could still be light-hearted. In Vincent McHugh’s 1943 novel I Am Thinking of My Darling, a virus infects New York City—but it's a happy virus! The infected follow their bliss, feverishly losing their inhibitions (for you Trekkies, think "The Naked Time" episode). The problem is that no one wants to work. Honestly, who would?

Acting planning commissioner Jim Rowan returns home from a trip to DC to find cheerful chaos quickly spreading across town—and his actress wife Niobe missing. She’s infected and on the lam, looking to live out a succession of character roles in a kind of Method fervor. Meanwhile, in an emergency management meeting (consider what that term evokes today), the mayor announces he has the virus—and would rather play with model trains than lead the City. To avoid panic, Rowan is secretly made acting mayor.

The plots riffs genially from there, with Rowan hot on the trail of his slippery wife, cabbing from City Hall to Harlem across a Cityscape in Mardi Gras mode—all the while consulting with civil services to keep things running and with scientists to find a cure. (The fact that the virus apparently originated in the tropics, implying that people there are inhibition-less, may be another artifact of the past.) A polymath (when being a polymath was simpler), Rowan narrates in sensual, informed detail about now-bygone architectural wonders, regional accents, lab science, and jazz music.

This book, with its glad-rag view of a long-lost era, has been a favorite of mine since it was recommended to me decades ago. (I still have my first copy, bought in the now-bygone Tower Books in the Village). McHugh, a poet and a staff writer for The New Yorker in the ’30s, employs a prose style that winks slyly at Chandler and pulp. (Once Rowan is inevitably infected, he’s like Marlowe on E.) Darling also features a nice amount of sexual frankness that may surprise modern readers who forget that people in the ’40s had sex. The novel was made into the very '60s movie What's So Bad About Feeling Good?, but by then the times had already been a-changed enough that the conceit no longer had the right kind of jazz.

Short Story Wednesday: William Maxwelll, ALL THE DAYS AND NIGHTS, collected stories

 

I think if it weren't for Short Story Wednesdays, books like this would have been donated to the library long ago. But because I need to draw on ss collections, this remains on my shelf. Maxwell was a novelist and ss writer as well as an editor for THE NEW YORKER. I have read stories from this collection for this project in the past. I wonder if a young reader would enjoy these stories as much as I do. Perhaps their style and subject is dated. I am not sure.

This time out I read two stories, both written toward the end of Maxwell's career. "The Holy Terror" is about two brothers in their boyhood. The older one loses part of a leg, needlessly it turns out, and the story discusses their relationship and how this loss had a huge impact on the family, despite the brother's fortitude in getting on with his life. "What He Was Like" is the story of man who keeps a journal for years and what happens to that book after his death. It's a chilling short tale. 

Maxwell wrote two of my favorite novels too. TIME WILL DARKEN IT and SO LONG, SEE YOU TOMORROW. For me, he's a very readable, enjoyable writer. 

George Kelley

TracyK 

Jerry House 

Casual Debris

Monday, Monday

LA CHIMERA is an Italian film that is magical in many ways. The most magical thing was that three thirteen year olds came in the theater as the picture was starting, ordered food (I didn't know you could do that), and sat through ninety minutes of the movie in complete silence. Did they know Italian? Or were they used to reading subtitles? Did their parents tell them it would be like Indiana Jones? (It has been compared to that in reviews) But then they left (wordlessly) without seeing the final forty minutes. Quite an unusual film with Josh O'Connor giving a standout performance along with Isabella Rossellini. I am very grateful that the theater down the block is showing this sort of film. I hope it lasts. 

RIPLEY is gorgeous to look at it if nothing else. But there are other delights: Dakota Fanning is wonderful and if Andrew Scott is too old for the part, he does give it a gravitas that Matt Damon didn't. Also watched a documentary on Charlotte Rampling called LOOK on you-tube. Watched the first episode of THE SYMPATHIZER (HBO-MAX).

I think I give up on SUGAR. NORTHERN EXPOSURE is better than ever. Did I appreciate it at the time? Not sure.

There's an article in the NYT today about how people pick up and ditch streaming services constantly now. I got rid of three in the last few months and am considering ditching APPLE and HULU. Really, you have to have more to offer than one show if you're going to charge $15 a month. The best value for me is Criterion. They have a tremendous library of films--if film is what you like.

Still working on reading THERE, THERE, (Orange)which is good--I just am reading more slowly than ever. 

Going to hear the Philadelphia Orchestra play Brahms in Ann Arbor today. It was a choral piece. Very moving. He wrote after the death of his mother. 

And you?

FFB: Hollywood and LeVine, Andrew Bergman

 

 Reviewed by Randy Johnson in 2014

I’ve written about P.I. Jack LeVine before.

It’s 1947 and Jack LeVine runs into an old college friend he hasn’t seen since before the war. Walter Adrian had made a career in Hollywood writing screenplays. One LeVine had loved, another not so much.

Adrian looked terrible, worried about something. Laying one false story on LeVine, he finally admitted he was having contract problems and wanted His friend to come to Hollywood and find out why. A new contract was in negotiation and Warner Brothers not only wasn’t offering him a raise, they wanted to cut his pay.

LeVine heads for Hollywood and goes to Warner Brothers where Adrian was working late on a script, only to find him on the back lot on a western set hanging from a scaffold.

The police call it suicide, but LeVine was suspicious. The trapdoor he’d been standing on that killed him when he fell through didn’t allow Adrian to hit the lever that opened it. Bot to mention the lump on the back of his head.

LeVine decides to look into it.

But no one wants him doing that. Shots are taken at him, the police are warning him off, and the meeting with freshman Senator Richard Nixon reinforces what they consider the problem.

Remember this is 1947 and Nixon is heading up the west coast version of the House Un-American Activities Committee.

LeVine keeps plugging along. The highlight of the story is the finale, a long car chase and shootout with LeVine aided by none other than Humphrey Bogart doing the driving. Lauren Bacall was left behind at the party where it started.

A fun read.

Short Story Wednesday: "Late Love" Joyce Carol Oates, THE NEW YORKER

 

This story started out as a story I might like: an older couple is newly married but both have previous marriage that ended in death or divorce. One night, the husband thrashes, groans and grunts with a bad dream. And it happens again. And again. When the wife confronts him with it, seeking to comfort him, he denies he was dreaming and accuses her of being the one that had a bad dream. This goes on and on and on. Leeches enter the plot. It morphs into horror. Has he killed his first wife. The second wife can find out little about her even from people who should know the story. The reader doesn't know if she is mentally ill or if he is trying to kill her. It ends ambiguously and is apparently part of a longer work. 

This was so, so long. Although the writing was good, I just don't care for horror stories on the whole. You can listen to JCO read it on THE NEW YORKER website. If you dare....

Jerry House

TracyK 

George Kelley

Kevin Tipple

Monday, Monday

 

Been trying hard to produce a new piece of writing for my group on Thursdays. What was once so pleasurable is agony now. But there's no point feeding them old stories twice a month.

Watching a lot of movies lately. I especially enjoyed UNDER THE SAND from 2001 with Charlotte Rampling and THE AMERICAN FRIEND with Dennis Hopper and Bruno Gantz. But the best movie of the week was FRIDA, a film using her own words and artwork. Just gorgeous. Although it is streaming, this was as part of the Detroit Free Press Film Festival.

Also watching RIPLEY, SUGAR, and still NORTHERN EXPOSURE.  

Starting THERE, THERE by Tommy Orange. And the new book by S.J Rozan is waiting at the library. 

What about you?