Journalists and murderers

I post today not to report on any books I have finished since my last entry (though I am closing in on Elif Batuman's The Possessed practically as we speak) but because I just finished what felt like a book, Janet Malcolm's piece "Iphigenia in Forest Hills" in the May 3 edition of The New Yorker. The thing was 29 copy-dense New Yorker pages long. I wish there were a word for the nonfiction equivalent of a novella, because that's what it is. Ostensibly, it's an account of the murder trial of a woman named Mazoltuv Borukhova, who was accused of employing an assassin to kill her estranged husband. Because it's Janet Malcolm it goes off into digressions on the nature of court trials and, especially, on the nature of journalism. Malcolm first came to my attention in 1989 when her two-part piece, "The Journalist and the Murderer," ran in The New Yorker. That piece, later published as a book, recounts the relationship between journalist Joe McGinnis and the subject of his best-selling book, "Fatal Vision," convicted murderer Jeffrey MacDonald. Malcolm's book has a first line many journalists of that era soon learned by heart, especially impressionable 21-year-old aspiring journalists (whether they wanted to or not): "Every journalist who is not too stupid or too full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible."

OK, so Malcolm views journalism as an ongoing act of seduction and betrayal between subject/source and writer -- but she includes herself in the latter category. And has herself been accused of some ugly behavior, specifically by Jeffrey Masson about a book she wrote on psychiatry, another of her obsessions. To her -- and I think she's right -- it all comes down to constructing narratives. Especially in heavily disputed cases like murder trials, the side with the plausible, authoritative narrative wins. As it happens, that rarely is the defense.

Malcolm's accounts of sitting through a trial are good, especially on the inherent drama of the set-up -- adversarial sides, the judge looming over everything, supposedly impartial although you can frequently sense which attorneys he or she views with favor. And she nails the weird camaraderie that develops among those attending a long trial together -- journalists and court personnel and families of the victim and/or defendant. It's like being shipwrecked, or stuck on an elevator. (Actually I was stuck on an elevator a couple months ago. That was a lot worse.) She is adept at going back and explaining background on the subjects, their community of Bukharan Jews -- who happened to come from Samarkand, Uzbekistan, a place I had never given a second's thought to but that also happens to figure largely in the book I am just finishing, Batuman's "The Possessed." Totally beside the point, but how weird is that? And the piece is worth reading just for the totally unexpected and bizarre left turn it takes (but doesn't follow) after Malcolm's telephone discussion with one of the witnesses. Stuff like that does happen and it rarely gets captured in conventional trial coverage because 1) it doesn't fit in 15 inches of copy and 2) it's not determinative to the trial's progress or outcome.

Malcolm is quite sympathetic to the defense, and honest about it, not that she seems to believe Bukharova is innocent of the charge against her, but because she is clearly the underdog in a system that claims to presume innocence and treat all equally. Malcolm notes several times that the prosecutor refers to Bukharova, a physician, as "Miss" instead of "Dr." Malcolm even calls herself "Ms. Defense Juror," imagining herself as a potential juror during the voir dire phase. (Who cares about the drama of voir dire except people stuck in courtrooms? Kudos to Malcolm for making the process interesting, which it is -- but only about 2 percent of it.)

I enjoyed the piece -- I kept reading all those 30 pages even though I was pretty damned sure about the outcome of the trial -- and I'm a Malcolm fan going back to the Journalist and the Murderer. I especially liked her book on the struggle over Sylvia Plath's legacy and literary reputation, "The Silent Woman." I think of her and Joan Didion as similar writers (I wonder how they'd feel about the comparison? Maybe they'd hate it.) Both are incredibly intelligent, insightful women -- and I think being women matters a lot in their choice of subject matter and approach. Both step back and analyze events that are covered in daily newspapers and other media, but take care to look at the way the stories are perceived, and why. I usually recognize the story they are telling, and realize yes, that was there all along, and I knew it, thank you, thank you for pointing that out. And there's some level at which both are drawing from the journalist's eternal well of newsworthiness: gossip, dirt -- murders, politics, literary celebrity. The fact that they do it in polished prose in places like The New Yorker and the New York Review of Books makes me feel all educated and high-minded while reading it. But it's still dirt.

And yet. This time, I felt just the tiniest bit irritated with Malcolm as she spoke about -- and for -- journalists. She wasn't condescending or nasty about the inkstained wretches who covered the trial and had to file daily for the New York Post, the Daily News, the Times and Forest Hills Ledger. I agree with most of what she said about journalists being more collegial than competitive, and I believe her on the nature of the coverage they produced. I think she ascribes too much malice to the profession in general -- that journalists enjoy torturing people and like covering trials because the attorneys do the torturing for you and all you have to do is write it down. I loved covering trials because of the drama she describes -- and because people were under oath and had to answer uncomfortable questions in a public forum, on the record -- but mostly because the trials you choose to cover generally contain an amazing story -- a great narrative, as Malcolm knows (and it's the reason she was sitting there in that Queens courtroom). I think journalists get off on being in on the story more than torturing their subjects. Maybe Malcolm thinks that's the same thing, but I don't. And I just feel, as a former daily copy toiler myself, a bit resentful at someone from The New Yorker speaking for journalists. It's kind of like a Harvard professor pronouncing about teaching. Well, yes, what you do is teach -- but you do it in conditions that are so far removed from what the vast majority of the profession does that I'm not sure you really get it. I doubt Malcolm ever had to cover a zoning hearing, or worry about coming up with a story for that day no matter if there were something newsworthy that you could have done in seven and a half hours or not, or feel the gut-clenching fear of being assigned to cover some breaking news event and knowing that her job (or at least future advancement prospects) were on the line if she didn't at least match and preferably beat the competition. It's really hard to do that. (I won't even go into whether Malcolm has ever had to cover two murder trials at the same time -- and then get yelled at by the boss because she didn't drop everything to write about the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue having been shot locally. Yes, I'm looking at you, John.) Daily journalism doesn't leave you much time to sit around and ponder the way you're constructing the narrative or the role you're playing in the justice system or society in general.

I guess that's why we have The New Yorker and Malcolm and I'm damned glad we do. I just felt, as she was sitting in the trial sympathizing with the defense that I was sitting there, too -- sympathizing with the daily reporters.

Update: I'm not the only one taking special notice of this story (no surprise, given how self-obsessed media types are) -- here's David Carr's blog post about it in the Times. He argues that Malcolm's identification with Borokhuva's "otherness" is part of the piece, if not its driving motive: "Let’s just say that she may have been one of the reporters covering the trial at the Queens Supreme Court in Kew Gardens last March, but she was not and never has been, part of the press corps."

I (heart) several books

It's here, my big day in South Florida biblio-journalism. First, a review in the Miami Herald of Larry's Kidney, an entertaining account of two cousins and their quest in China for a kidney, a bride and a better understanding of their relationship. And by the way props to The Herald and to the hardworking book (and Weekend section) editor Connie Ogle for keeping on keeping on in this economic climate. The Sun-Sentinel recently laid off longtime book editor Chauncey Mabe -- he'll still be doing freelance book reviews for them but it's a major institutional loss for South Florida readers. Anyway. I also had a manifesto about how people do too read books so there in today's Solares Hill but sadly I can't provide a link because The Citizen has a very strange approach toward online access. Enough said. If you happen to be in the Florida Keys you can get yourself a Sunday paper. Or you could buy the whole Sunday paper online and get a PDF that includes Solares Hill. Basically my point was the publishing industry is in some trouble but people are still reading, based on my observations at the circulation desk at the Monroe County Library's May Hill Russell Branch and also because of human nature (we crave drama and narrative in whatever form we can get it). And I gave a somewhat random summer reading list -- random because unlike real professional book writers I'm not recommending all new books because I don't have access to all those books, but just fun, mostly lighter reads I've come across in the last year or so. Unfortuantely they didn't have time to include a last-minute addition to the list of Vern's book, The Lost Chalice, but I'm sure you'll be hearing more about that from me and others in the near future.

Summer Reading Recommendations:

"Stone’s Fall" by Iain Pears – This is a brand new novel, from the author of “The Instance of the Fingerpost.” It’s historical fiction with a mystery at its heart – why did financier and industrialist Julius Stone take a header out of his living room window? It proceeds in several chunks with different narrators, heading back through time, from post-World War II Paris to Venice in 1867. Long but absorbing.

"Martyr" by Rory Clement – Another new one, by an English journalist turned novelist. This is historical fiction set during the reign of Elizabeth I and uses an older brother of William Shakespeare, named John, as its protagonist, a sort of Renaissance detective in the service of Sir Francis Walsingham. If you are a fan of Philippa Gregory, Jean Plaidy or other fictions set in this time period, this is a worthy addition with more attention paid to ordinary people caught up in the religious wars than the machinations of royalty. (Note: the comments on this book have been edited after I received the comment from Clements, posted below -- a very nice man as well as a good writer and a good reminder to me that even though I write this stuff in a kind of personal, casual style it's still publication.)

“The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher” by Kate Summerscale – Another work set in the past, this one nonfiction. It’s about a murder that takes place in an upper class home – the murder of a small child – and the London detective who arrives to solve the case. Summerscale skillfully blends the shocking story itself as well as the social milieu in which it happened (Victorian England) and the literary influences Whicher and the case had (the birth of the detective novel).

“The Lost City of Z” by David Grann – In 1925, Sir Percy Fawcett set off into the Amazon looking for the fabled South American city usually called El Dorado but known in his journals and letters simply as Z. His companions were his young son and the son’s friend, neither of whom had any experience in that environment. They never returned. Fawcett’s obsession, and the quest to find out what happened to him, are parallel tracks in this book and Grann himself ventures into the still-hostile environment. His conclusions are surprising and surprisingly persuasive.

“The Book of Air and Shadows” by Michael Gruber – I am not a Dan Brown fan but I’m fond of bibliothrillers – pageturners with a rare book or manuscript at their heart – and this is the best one I’ve found yet. The item at issue in this case is a lost Shakespeare manuscript but it’s Gruber’s writing, and the voice of his protagonist – a former Olympic weightlifter turned attorney – that kept me enthralled.

“Blindspot” by Jane Kamensky and Jill Lepore – Two eminent historians – one a professor at Harvard the other at Tufts – write a novel. Together. This sounds like it could have been a very bad idea. Instead, it’s a ton of fun. Set in Boston a decade before the American Revolution, it is the story of a penniless Scottish painter and his apprentice, whom he believes to be a 16-year-old boy but who is actually the 21-year-old disgraced daughter of a prominent Boston family. What are the odds they’ll fall in love? Told in alternating voices – the painter’s traditional first person picaresque novel, the apprentice’s letters to a childhood friend – it is a lusty romance but also deals with serious issues like gender, sexual orientation, race and political liberty. Not to mention art.

“His Majesty’s Dragon” by Naomi Novik – I can’t believe I’m publicly admitting that I read and loved a book with dragons – so I might as well admit I read and loved FIVE books with dragons, all in the series called Temeraire (after, of course, is our protagonist dragon). “His Majesty’s Dragon” and its sequels are terrific. They are set in the Napoleonic Wars and are commonly described as “Patrick O’Brian with dragons.” Alternate history, fantasy, call it what you will. But if you’re at all interested, just give it a try. Here’s a heresy for you: I think Novik is actually better than O’Brian at conveying the terrible carnage Napoleon wreaked across Europe, since so much of her books are set on land, as opposed to sea. Seriously, not counting Harry Potter I hadn’t read anything with dragons in it since junior high. Now I’m counting the days until the next installment comes out in October.

“One Good Turn” by Kate Atkinson – Actually you should probably start from the beginning of this trilogy, “Case Histories,” which features former cop turned private detective Jackson Brodie. They’re mysteries, with Brodie solving some puzzle or other usually with a couple of bodies along the way, but they truly excel as character studies and Atkinson is a fabulous writer – funny and humane and totally original. Her first novel won the Whitbread Award, so she’s got the literary chops – and unlike some other literary types she doesn’t feel compelled to adopt a pseudonym when she writes a crime novel that can be pigeonholed as genre work. The third in this series, by the way, is called “When Will There Be Good News?” I just listed OGT because it was my favorite, possibly because it’s the first one I read.

“The Given Day” by Dennis Lehane – Best known for crime novels like “Mystic River,” Lehane swung for the fences in this epic historical novel, set in Boston in 1919 – a time when World War I had just ended, the city was beset by fears of anarchist terrorism, influenza was wiping out populations. The book culminates in the Boston Police strike, a historic event, and takes in different parts of society, including Irish, Italian and African-American.

“Julie & Julia” by Julie Powell – This memoir is about to come out as a movie, starring Meryl Streep and Amy Adams, directed by Nora Ephron. So brace yourselves: It will be everywhere. Despite the fact that this book started out as a blog based on a gimmicky premise – young New Yorker Julie Powell attempts to cook every recipe in Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” in a year – it’s a fun, endearing read. And it’s not just a blog committed to paper; it’s a real memoir, chronicling love, family, society and the knotty problem of what to do when you’re turning 30 and your original ambitions just aren’t panning out.

Some self horn tooting

chapman-cover.jpgThe last book review I wrote as editor of Solares Hill (though probably not the last book review I will write for Solares Hill) is in the current edition of Solares Hill. It's a good nonfiction read called 40 Days and 40 Nights by a fellow named Matthew Chapman. It's about the trial in Dover, Pa., over the introduction of intelligent design into high school science classes. Chapman happens to be a great-great-grandson of Charles Darwin, who (along with Alfred Russel Wallace) figured out natural selection and who is the demon of those who oppose teaching science in science classes. You can get my review in the Solares Hill PDF or online at The Citizen's web page, www.keysnews.com (the Solares Hill book review is posted there every week, WAAAAAAY down at the bottom of the page).Also in the Citizen and on its web page is my husband Mark Hedden's birding column, which this week happens to concern books about birding -- also the subject of a recent talk he gave at Voltaire Books. Sad to say I've only read one of the titles he discusses, The Song of the Dodo (and I agree with his assessment -- it's a great book -- so great I actually loaned it to someone who never returned it -- and bought another hardcover copy to replace it -- it's never being loaned again). Just to bring things full circle, Quammen's most recent book, also a very good read, is a biography of, you guessed it, Charles Darwin. On a totally unrelated note, as long as I'm linking to my own stuff I might as well throw in the new FKCC Library Blog post I wrote about a cool interview from the Paris Review with Key West's own Harry Mathews.

Today's recommended read

motherboard.pngOK, it's not about books. But it's about reading and information and it's an interesting topic -- a book review from the Washington Post, of a book called "Against the Machine," a rant against the Internet and how Kids Today communicate. The reviewer is a former software engineer who wrote a book called "Close to the Machine" so perhaps she was destined to dislike the book. And as a blogger and avid reader of stuff on screen, I also dislike this guy's central thesis. Especially from a guy who posed as a commenter on his own blog. Fundamentally, I just don't get why this is an either/or question -- yes, the Web is full of crap (as is printed matter). But there's so much good stuff out there, so much of which was inaccessible or couldn't even have existed before.

Weekend read

queen.jpgLooking at a publisher's catalogue of upcoming titles, I was interested in one by a writer named Kate Summerscale. Her new book, The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, is about a Victorian detective who became a model for a lot of great literary detectives. But the catalogue also referred to her previous book, The Queen of Whale Cay. That sounded interesting, so I looked it up. The story was REALLY interesting, about a classic 20th century eccentric, Marion "Joe" Carstairs, an heiress to the Standard Oil Fortune who became a very successful motorboat racer -- and very out-of-the-closet lesbian -- in the 1920s, then retreated to an island in the Bahamas as public opinion turned against her. Even better, it turned out that the Key West library had the book on the shelf. So on Wednesday evening, I stopped by and got it. It's a small book (literally), and a quick read.

Turns out Summerscale used to work for the British paper the Daily Telegraph, which is famous for its hilarious and outrageously candid obituaries, which is how she learned about Carstairs. When I heard that, I decided to check out the Telegraph online just to see if they had these great obits every day. Of course there are a limited number of Carstairs types out there -- but the Telegraph does the best it can with its material, and the obit editor has a pretty entertaining blog.