Heading north

given_day1In today's Miami Herald, my story about Dennis Lehane and his new book "The Given Day," a big historical epic which I strongly recommend. It's set in Boston in 1918-1919, leading up to the Boston Police strike -- lots of real people figure, including Babe Ruth, although the main characters are fictional. It's a big book, at 720 pages, but an absorbing read. And it gets you into the historical fiction groove, which I hope many people are already, with the upcoming Literary Seminar. Right now, I'm reading Gore Vidal's Burr, a book I read many years ago -- closer to 20 than 10, yikes! It's a great one, too, funny and surprising, all the stuff that made Vidal the man of letters we love (and fear). Sounds like he was on his game at the Book Fair last night; can't wait to hear what he has to say at the Key West Literary Seminar, on the eve of Obama's inauguration in January.

Tomorrow I'm heading up to the Book Fair, where I hope to see Lehane and many, many other writers -- because, gosh, I just don't have enough to read already.

Red Sox quote of the day vol. 4 (going back to Boston edition)

"Like I said from the beginning, it doesn't matter to me who's the No. 1 starter and who's the No. 5 starter,’’ Lester said Sunday in anticipation of his Game 3 start. "We all have equal importance to this team when it comes to winning. I just try to go out and execute pitches. Hopefully I can go deep in the game and give the bullpen a rest and give it to [Jonathan Papelbon], and anytime you get to Pap with the lead, we're doing pretty good.’’ -- That's pitcher Jon Lester, quoted by the Boston Globe's Tony Massarotti. Boy will we all be glad to see Lester on the mound, as well as the friendly green of Fenway. I haven't entirely forgotten about books, though -- in fact my recent reading and my Red Sox in the playoffs obsession merged for awhile there as I read Dennis Lehane's new novel, "The Given Day." It's historical and it's epic and Babe Ruth shows up a couple times, in his last year with the Sox (the book is set in 1918-1919 -- I wonder what it says about us as a society that the trade of the Babe to the Yankees is far better known to New England schoolchildren than the Boston police strike which is the climax to the book?

Surfacing

I reviewed a couple of diving books -- Titanic's Last Secrets and Diving Into Darkness -- for the Miami Herald and the review ran on Sunday. Since one of them was about the two guys from Shadow Divers, I felt compelled to read that first. And watch the two-hour Nova special on their quest to identify the German U-Boat. All of which means -- even though these were all pretty good reads, I'm glad to be reading something different. Lately I've been exploiting my position at the library to read some really good new releases as they come in (mostly, these days, through our lease service, called McNaughton -- they're the ones with the green labels). The first was a graphic novel called American Widow by Alissa Torres. Though it's really not a novel; it's a graphic memoir, I guess, about a woman whose husband was killed in the World Trade Center on 9/11. It's heartbreaking but, for me, suffered a little because I had so recently read Alison Bechdel's Fun Home -- hands down, the best graphic novel/memoir/anything I've ever read and one of the best memoirs I've read, period. Plus Bechdel does her own artwork. Another recent McNaughton I read was The Heretic's Daughter, an engrossing novel about the Salem witch trials and, just this weekend, When Will There Be Good News by Kate Atkinson, the third in her series sort of centering on soldier-turned-cop-turned-private-eye-turned-rich-guy Jackson Brodie. Like the previous two, it was terrific. And yesterday I zipped through the excellently named Pagan Kennedy's collection of mostly profiles, The Dangerous Joy of Dr. Sex, which I snagged through Library Thing's Early Reviewers program. (Having access to review copies when I was a newspaper editor may have ruined me -- when the mailman delivered a package on Saturday, my husband just handed it to me, saying "You are such a book whore." I took it as a compliment. I'm pretty sure he meant it that way.)

September has been a big reading month so far -- it's good to cancel the cable! But I've got a couple doorstops on the horizon -- the new Dennis Lehane, The Given Day, arrived at the library today and I've got Tom Gjelten's book on the Bacardis at home, waiting for a review read.

By the way, Happy Banned Books Week! In the event that Sarah Palin does not impose her personal view of appropriate reading material on the nation, we should be able to keep celebrating the freedom to read: we at FKCC are celebrating; you can read about it on our blog.

DFW RIP

Over the weekend, the world learned that writer David Foster Wallace hanged himself on Friday at his home in California. I haven't read his mammoth novel Infinite Jest -- and I doubt I ever will just because I almost never commit that kind of time and attention to a work of fiction, for some reason -- but I was a big fan of his nonfiction, especially his essays for Harper's that are collected in the book "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" (that book, along with "Infinite Jest" and most of his other work is available at the Monroe County library).  The title essay describes Wallace taking a cruise and attempting to interview the captain about the crew's working conditions and it's hysterically funny, although the cruise industry probably didn't think so. Another piece in that book describes Wallace visiting the Illinois State Fair in all its Midwestern glory. I've also enjoyed his more recent work, collected in "Consider the Lobster" -- the title essay from that book caused a huge flap when it was published in Gourmet magazine. Maybe I'll add "Infinite Jest" to the list of books to take on a six-month RV trip, along with the Shelby Foote Civil War trilogy. My theory on that has always been you'd want to keep  yourself occupied for a long time with the number of books you can fit in a milk crate.

Recent reading

Some stormy weather meant my employer was closed for a couple days this week -- and I got to read, when not evaluating storm preparedness and/or keeping the dog amused. Since I happened to post some reviews of this recent reading on Library Thing, I figured I might as well post them here: The Open Door by Elizabeth Maguire

A slim, engaging novel about real people -- primarily Constance Fenimore Woolson, who has gone down in history as a minor writer who pursued Henry James. According to this book, she was a lot more and I'd like to believe this version, if only because she seems like a remarkable, determined and admirable woman. It was especially interesting to read this fairly soon after reading "The Five of Hearts" by Patricia O'Toole, which includes several of the same people, especially Clarence King. It may or may not be relevant, but the novel does deal with the main character's awareness of and acceptance of mortality -- and the author reportedly completed it just before she died of ovarian cancer at a way-too-young age.

The Whiskey Rebels: A Novel by David Liss

Historical hindsight tends to carry the air of the inevitable. Because we’ve all known so long about the American Revolution and worshiped the wisdom of the Founding Fathers, we assume it was meant to be, that fate decreed our nation would turn out the way it has. Historical fiction is a useful reminder that these developments were not so inevitable, and that our history turned on human actions, decisions, chance, opportunity and intelligence. “The Whiskey Rebels” is a fine addition to the American story. The novel takes place in a mostly unexamined period, immediately after American independence had been won but the course of the young country was not yet determined. The government, headed by the Revolutionary hero George Washington, is in Philadelphia. Two members of his Cabinet – Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton and Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson – are bitter enemies, struggling over whether the country will have a strong federal government or serve as a looser association of states. But the book’s main characters are fictional. The novel has, at first, two separate threads. The first, starting in 1792, follows Capt. Ethan Saunders, a wreck of a man who served as a spy for the American forces but was drummed out of the Army after he and his mentor were accused of treachery. His mentor’s daughter, whom Saunders loved, marries another man when he refuses to associate her with his shame. And he’s been drowning his sorrows in taverns. But Saunders gets drawn back in to national affairs, when his lost love’s husband goes missing and he determines to make sure she is in no danger from her husband’s attempts at financial speculation. The other storyline follows Joan Maycott, a young woman who marries a Revolutionary War veteran and tries to make a go of life on the western Pennsylvania frontier. That story begins in 1781 and at first appears totally unrelated. Maycott and her husband struggle to survive and she secretly harbors grander ambitions: to write the first real American novel. Meanwhile, it turns out her husband has a knack for distilling good whiskey. Naturally, characters and eventually plot start to intersect and the two main characters eventually meet and interact. Despite the complexity, Liss does a good job setting the scene of Philadelphia as the capital of the new nation, with a form of government the men were basically making up as they went along and Hamilton and Jefferson engaged in their titanic struggle for the direction of the country. People like the Maycotts, who believe in their new country, are collateral damage when Hamilton determines to raise funds by taxing whiskey, a primary currency on the frontier but one that’s used in barter and thus does not generate cash profits to pay the tax. The settlers, many of them Revolutionary War veterans, see Hamilton’s national bank as a replica of the British system they fought so hard to escape, and see his national bank as “the harbiner of doom, the sign that the American project had failed.” Meanwhile, back in the coastal cities, nefarious men are plotting to use the new bank to corner the entire nascent American economy. As one character says of these men, their plots are “the dark side of liberty … A man is not hindered by what cannot be done, so twisted men like Duer apply that liberty to their greed.” Liss, whose background is in historical financial thrillers, does a good job describing the financial machinations and even if you don’t follow every strategic nuance, it’s an enjoyable thriller. Liss does an especially good job setting the scene, in taverns and boarding houses and respectable homes, and occasionally turns an especially nice phrase, like “Pigs roamed freely and grunted their courage at passing carriages.” Our heroes are sympathetic but human, flawed and understandable, and you find yourself rooting for both of them even when their goals are at odds.