Finished: Lee Child's 'Night School'

Last night I finished the newest installment of Jack Reacher: Lee Child’s novel titled “Night School.”

I’m thinking of changing the way I rank books. Instead of 1-10, it might be more accurate to just list the days it took to read the book. With rare exception, the best books are hard to put down. I plowed through this one in two nights. It was one of the better Reacher novels in a while.

From Goodreads:

It’s 1996, and Reacher is still in the army. In the morning they give him a medal, and in the afternoon they send him back to school. That night he’s off the grid. Out of sight, out of mind.

Two other men are in the classroom — an FBI agent and a CIA analyst. Each is a first-rate operator, each is fresh off a big win, and each is wondering what the hell they are doing there.

From Langley to Hamburg, Jalalabad to Kiev, Night School moves like a bullet through a treacherous landscape of double crosses, faked identities, and new and terrible enemies, as Reacher maneuvers inside the game and outside the law.

This is the 21st Jack Reacher book. Wow, time flies when you’re kickin’ butt. In this one, kind of a prequel to the others, Reacher is still in the Army. I found it refreshing at a time when the series kind of needed a reboot.

Goodreaders give it a 4 of 5, B&N’ers a 3 of 5. I give it a solid 7 out of 10 or a 2 on the days-to-read scale.

Finished: Donald Westlake's '361'

Finished Donald E. Westlake’s hard-boiled crime drama “361.” It was the dark, mean, greasy-grimy gopher guts kind of stuff I like. It doesn’t contain much, if any, of the humor Westlake is best known for in his hilarious Dortmunder Gang novels.

The men in the tan-and-cream Chrysler came with guns blazing. When Ray Kelly woke up in the hospital, it was a month later, he was missing an eye, and his father was dead. Then things started to get bad.

It’s a short read, which I like. One of Westlake’s first novels, just punches you in the gut and doesn’t apologize. Lawrence Block, a BFF of the now deceased Westlake, said it’s the first book where he saw Westlake get “his voice.”

In between pages I happened to watch the movie Sicario (ft. Emily Blunt, Josh Brolin and Benicio Del Toro). It seemed fitting as Del Toro’s character’s wife and daughter were murdered and his total no-conscience pursuit of the killers reminded me of Westlake’s character. Just flat-out stone cold messed up in the head guys bent on vengeance. The thing with his eye is ingenious writing.

I gave it a 7- of 10. Goodreaders give it a 3.6 of 5.

I implore you, if you haven’t read Donald Westlake do it. Maybe don’t start with this one. But do one.

Link-oh-frozen-rama

This is kind of a big deal for my neck of the woods. Author Amity Shlaes will be speaking at the winter graduation at S.D. School of Mines.

While I generally find authors to be boring, pretentious speakers, there are exceptions. She might be one, or maybe not. I’ve heard that her book on Calvin Coolidge, cleverly named "Coolidge," is pretty good if you’re into non-fiction biographies of dead presidents.

*** It’s getting to be the end of the year so the “best books of 2016” lists are coming out.

Here’s Goodreads best books of 2016.

And the Boston Globe weighs in with their faves. I notice “The Only Rule Is It Has To Work” shows up on a lot of lists. Might have to check it out.

This book also looks interesting: “Narconomics: How to Run a Drug Cartel.” Not that I'm looking, but if this writing thing doesn't work out ...

*** Bill Gates and his top five books of 2016. It includes one from the science list below: The Gene.

In The Gene: An Intimate History, physician and Pulitzer-winning author Siddhartha Mukherjee offers a rigorously researched, beautifully written detective story about the genetic components of what we experience as the self, rooted in Mukherjee’s own painful family history of mental illness and radiating a larger inquiry into how genetics illuminates the future of our species.

*** The greatest science books of 2016 by brainpickings. “When Breath Becomes Air” looks interesting.

That tumultuous turning point is what neurosurgeon Paul Kalanithi chronicles in When Breath Becomes Air — his piercing memoir of being diagnosed with terminal cancer at the peak of a career bursting with potential and a life exploding with aliveness. Partway between Montaigne and Oliver Sacks, Kalanithi weaves together philosophical reflections on his personal journey with stories of his patients to illuminate the only thing we have in common — our mortality — and how it spurs all of us, in ways both minute and monumental, to pursue a life of meaning.

*** A good first-hand account of Gen. James "Mad Dog" Mattis, hopefully our next SecDef.

This, from the Military Times in 2013, gives a good retrospective on his career and some of the stories that define it.

*** This gal’s making some waves lately. My daughter and Tomi interned together in Rep. Kristi Noem's Rapid City office.

*** Castro lovers might be wise to read this, which means they won't. Dude was kept in a dark cell naked for eight years.

*** Belated happy birthday to C.S. Lewis. Here's some stuff you might not know about him.

Finished: Robert Parker's 'Silent Night'

They call Robert B. Parker the Dean of American Crime Fiction. He's most famous for his 40 novels featuring private detective Spenser. Many people know of the TV series Jesse Stone, with Tom Selleck, but don't know it's based on Parker novels. He shows his versatility as a western writer as well, with Appaloosa to his credit.

Unfortunately, he died in 2010.

Fortunately, his agent kept his spirit alive by finishing the Spenser novel he was working on at the time of his death.

And I just finished it. I'll call it my Christmas read "Silent Night," though it probably has a few too many murders in it to be considered real Christmassy. It is set during the Christmas season though and loosely uses a drug dealer as Scrooge.

It's December in Boston, and Spenser is busy planning the menu for Christmas dinner when he's confronted in his office by a young boy named Slide. Homeless and alone, Slide has found refuge with an organization named Street Business, which gives shelter and seeks job opportunities for the homeless and lost. Slide's mentor, Jackie Alvarez, is being threatened, and Street Business is in danger of losing its tenuous foothold in the community, turning Slide and many others like him back on the street. But it's not a simple case of intimidation — Spenser, aided by Hawk, finds a trail that leads to a dangerous drug kingpin, whose hold on the at-risk community Street Business serves threatens not just the boys' safety and security, but their lives as well.

I liked it. I love RBP. Sad to know there won't be any new novels of his, but happy to know I've got about 30 left to read.

I gave "Silent Night" a 6+ on the Haugenometer. Goodreaders gave it 3.8 and B&Ners a 3.5 on their 5-point scales.

Finished Koontz's 'Ashley Bell'

Finished Dean Koontz’s epic novel Ashley Bell last night. I say “epic” because it’s over 700 pages. Being a huge fan, I was hoping more Koontz meant more to enjoy. I was wrong.

I’m not a guy who likes long books. I have weak wrists to hold such a book in long sittings and have even less patience. So what I find myself doing is speed reading and seldom falling into “the zone” every reader likes where time flies by. I kept doing the math in my head to see how many pages where left before what I hoped was a lollapalooza of an ending to make it worthwhile. Koontz does a great job of making me wonder “where is he going with this?” and “how is going to tie it all together?” That’s what kept me going.

From Goodreads:

At twenty-two, Bibi Blair’s doctors tell her that she’s dying. Two days later, she’s impossibly cured. Fierce, funny, dauntless, she becomes obsessed with the idea that she was spared because she is meant to save someone else. Someone named Ashley Bell. This proves to be a dangerous idea.

There’s no denying Koontz has a rare gift of an uber imagination. (Oddly, he uses “uber” a lot in this book.) But I get the feeling he’s just showing off now. I love how his novels weave the mystical, religious, and sixth-sense kind of thing. But this one was a reach, and a long one. Did I mention the book was long? It’s almost like he was bragging about being a writer with an out-of-this-world imagination and drawing it all together. His sermons on fiction were a little over-bearing.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I read it. It was different. His talent for plotting is rare. I wish I had it. If I did, I’d write a lot more and shorter books.

I thought the Washington Post summed it up well:

By then, my view of the novel had progressed from an admiring “What lovely writing!” to a weary “What pretentious hokum!” There’s much to treasure in magical writing, but “Ashley Bell” is hardly an example of the style at its best. Still, one reader’s hokum is another reader’s happiness. I imagine that countless Koontz fans will delight in Bibi’s strange adventures, and I’d be the last to begrudge them their pleasures.

Goodreaders give it a 3.6 of 5. B&N’ers slightly lower at 3.5. The10-point Haugenometer only gave it a 6-.

Link-O-lame-O-rama

Places to go, people to see, so some random links on the fly:

*** The oldest Tuskegee Airman dies at 101.

*** The top 10 books of 2016 according to … Glamour! Consider the source please.

*** The bromance between John Carson and William F. Buckley.

*** General Mattis, rumored to be next Sec. Def., writes about the importance of professional reading.

*** How Duke and Kentucky came to rule college basketball.

Genious at werk

Link-o-lection-day-rama

Last night I pre-ordered what I think will be a pretty cool book: “In Sunlight or In Shadow: Stories Inspired by the Paintings of Edward Hopper”

Lawrence Block invited 17 of his friends, including Lee Child, Jeffery Deaver and Stephen King, to write a story as they see depicted in Hopper’s paintings. Pretty cool idea.

I have Hopper’s most-famous “Nighthawks” in our house. It’s fun to look at, imagine the conversation and what the creepy guy sitting by himself is up to. It will be interesting to see which writer writes the story to go with it.

*** This has always been a bugaboo of mine and while he was forced to read a lot in high school I’m worried it may not turn into a lifelong passion for him as it was for me and my father. But then again, ya never know. How to get your boy reading.

So what can we do to stimulate the left brains of squirmy boys and get them reading with as much commitment as their sisters? Don’t underestimate the power of example, for a start. Boys need to see older males reading joyfully – otherwise they risk writing it off as a “girly” thing. So that’s down to dads and other male role models. Primary schools – female dominated environments, usually – should regularly invite in male authors, librarians and volunteers to talk about reading and share books. A footballer with a passion for books would be good, for instance.

*** This guy isn’t too fond of the direction The National Book Award is going.

*** A look at John Grisham’s newest book: The Whistler

*** The 10 must-read books for November.

'Murica!

Hiking with wifey and daughter this morning by Slate Creek west of Hill City and found one fella with a better view of the Black Hills than us.

Finished: 'Songs of Innocence'

Recently finished "Songs of Innocence" by Richard Aleas. It's book #33 from Hard Case Crime publishing.

Aleas, whose real name is Charles Ardai, is the founder of the publishing company and this was his debut novel.

As mentioned before, I'm into the crime/mystery thing, particularly the old-style 1950s hard-boiled crime noir. Donald Westlake and Lawrence Block are my faves. Some of them get pretty gritty and dirty, but none more so than this one.

Three years ago, detective John Blake solved a mystery that changed his life forever — and left a woman he loved dead. Now Blake is back, to investigate the apparent suicide of Dorothy Louise Burke, a beautiful college student with a double life. The secrets Blake uncovers could blow the lid off New York City’s sex trade...if they don’t kill him first.

It was a little darker than most. Dealt with some disturbing topics like suicide and another I can't tell you about without ruining the ending. So I won't. And it's that ending. Man, it made the novel great, the plot awesome, but also made me not like the book. Hard to explain. The Washington Post pretty much nails it with this:

"Songs of Innocence[’s] devastating final scenes elevate the novel to an instant classic. The painful climax of this novel, as unexpected as it is powerful, will move you in ways that crime fiction rarely can." 

Goodreaders give it a 3.8 out of 5. I'm torn, but will defer to the writing skills of the author and will give it a 7- out of 10 on the Haugenometer.

As a pallet-cleanser I've moved on to Dean Koontz's "Ashley Bell."

I'm about 100 pages into this 700-page tome and it's vintage Koontz. The only reason I don't like reading Koontz is because he makes me feel so inadequate as a writer. This could be one of those losing-sleep knockout novels.

Koontz gives me pen envy.

Mankato bookstore is everything you dream

A must-stop on any road trip for me is a used bookstore.

Last weekend wifey and I were in Mankato, MN, to visit Junior in college. We stayed downtown and eventually made our way to the Once Read Bookstore, a landmark in that city. By the way, the Mankato downtown scene is extremely cool too, if you like unique bars and restaurants, and who doesn't?

I picked up a Hard Case Crime novel and the kid found me a Tom Sawyer book I don't have (I collect various book covers of my man Sam Clemens). Scored some more books for my other kids and by the end of the 30 minute stop had dropped 20 bucks for probably 15 books. Not bad.

Read this story from the Mankato paper, if for no other reason than the pictures I didn't want to pilfer for the blog.

“I opened the doors to my business on September 1, 1975. In those days there were numerous stores including Mark Weinstein’s “The Lost Cord” and three different head shops.  The street was alive.”

Back in those days Mark said he was a heavy drinker and a pot smoker. 

“Pot gave me a lot of the ideas for the store.” 

Used bookstore ambiance is just cool. The obligatory bookstore cat was there. There were a couple book flies sitting in the aisles reading but not buying. The store cashier was a strange, knowledgeable, friendly guy. Strange in the best sense of the word. He tried convincing me that Judy Blume is now writing some good stuff for adults. We'll see.

Best of all, the place was floor to ceiling books, which is pretty much how I envision heaven. 

Finished Silva’s ‘The Heist’

I’ve become a huge fan of Daniel Silva. His Gabriel Allon character is so well develop and constantly growing. You’d think it would be tough to keep him interesting after 14 books but he does. I still have two more books to go to get caught up.

Gabriel’s cover is that he is an art restorer, and a good one, but he’s also one of the highest operatives in Israeli intelligence.

I gave it a 6+, just missing a 7 because I hought the ending missed the mark. Still, such enjoyable books. I hope he keeps turning them out. I’m learning, art, history, geography and still having a kick doing it. Goodreaders give it 4.1 or 5, and B&N’ers a 4.4 of 5.

The Art of Manliness

So there's been some national conversation lately about how men talk.

In fact, twice this week I was accused of not being a "real" man because I don't speak like a vulgar caveman. One went so far as to suggest that my friends and I are, umm, the obscenity for gay males, because I told him my dad, my son, my friends, don't talk like that.

I honestly don't think my kids ever heard me say so much as "damn" until they were well into their teenage years, and even then the number of times they've heard me swear could be counted on one hand. When I did, I think they'd even agree, it was probably forgivable considering the circumstances. As Mark Twain said: "Under certain circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer."

But just walking around in casual conversation? No. Very rare for me. Certainly not commonplace. You'd have to follow me around for many years with a microphone to find anything that wouldn't be allowed on The Waltons.

Have I or my friends ever told a dirty joke? Sure. But I grew out of those. Now most of my best jokes aren't obscene.

As I've said before, there are only about eight people in this world whose opinion of me I actually care about, and neither of them were these two yahoos. However, it did get me thinking about what is a real man and how different people have various perceptions of manliness.

Those two probably don't consider these things I do "manly":

I go to church. I pray every night.

I grow heirloom tomatoes from seed. And I can them and make salsa.

I read. Can quote Frost, Shakespeare and Poe.

Haven't had a drink in almost 20 years. Used to, a lot. But grew up.

People say I'm skinny, though I prefer toned. Was 200 pounds, now 160. (See above.)

Been married once, to the same woman for 28 years.

Raised three caring, God-fearing children who are contributing members of society.

I have a pet rabbit.

I moisturize.

I have a raspberry patch and herb garden.

I've written books and can use multi-syllable words.

I like Prince.

I cried like a baby when my Basset Hound, Edna, died a few years back, and will do the same when Stanley passes.

I'm biased, because I'm talking about me, but I think a man can be manly and still do those aforementioned things. In fact, I think he IS manly if he does some of those things.

There are other things I do that could be stereotyped as manly, even redneck, which is I think what those guys consider manly. But since I don't swear or speak obscenities about women while doing them, they probably don't count:

I enjoy outlaw and classic country and rock. Most recent concerts I've been to: Casey Donahew (red dirt Texas band), Willie Nelson, BB King, Kid Rock, Aerosmith, KISS. I had David Allan Coe tickets, but the concert was cancelled because he had bronchitis (so he's probably not a "real man" either.) But throw in my Elton John and Prince concerts and that probably negates any manliness points I earned.

Grew up on a farm. Branded cattle, castrated pigs, swam in the cattle tank, threw bales, worked several years for the local veterinarians. But I was also in band and swing choir, so again, negated.

I own more guns than I have fingers.

I've bought cattle, raised cattle, sold cattle, worked for a cattle buyer.

Have run 26.2 miles without stopping and several half marathons. Don't know that it's manly, but doubt the two dudes can walk to their mailbox and back without getting winded.

I drive an 11-year-old Jeep with 207,000 miles on it, though I've never changed my own oil. I figure for 25 bucks I'll let it fall on someone else's head.

I've survived three near-death experiences.

I have a heavy bag hanging in my garage that I punch instead of my wife or kids.

I cut my hair twice a year and never comb it.

I've butchered deer and antelope.

I raised a son who is going to be a cop and who prevented two guys from raping a passed out woman in an alley last summer.

I raised a daughter who punched a boy who was giving her disabled friend a bad time.

I raised three kids who are leaders, stand up to bullies, protect the weak. They don't mock them.

So I guess if some want to consider me gay, so be it. I don't really care. If some want to call me "redneck," ditto. Maybe I'm a hybrid man.

One philosophy I've tried to live by is that I don't feel I'm better than anybody else, but I also don't feel anybody else is better than me. Gotta say, some people are really testing me on the former.

As Hamlet said: "What a piece of work is a man!"

Finished: Gustav Niebuhr's 'Lincoln's Bishop'

I recently delved into the nonfiction and religious realm again and enjoyed my trip there with Gustav Niebuhr's "Lincoln's Bishop."

 More than a century ago, during the formative years of the American nation, Protestant churches carried powerful moral authority, giving voice to values such as mercy and compassion, while boldly standing against injustice and immorality. Gustav Niebuhr travels back to this defining period, to explore Abraham Lincoln's decision to spare the lives of 265 Sioux men sentenced to die by a military tribunal in Minnesota for warfare against white settlers — while allowing the hanging of 38 others, the largest single execution on American soil. Popular opinion favored death or expulsion. Only one state leader championed the cause of the Native Americans, Episcopal bishop, Henry Benjamin Whipple. 

 I liked several things about this book. For one, I always enjoy settings I'm familiar with, whether it's in a fiction or nonfiction book. This Dakota War pretty much took place along the Minnesota River and touches on locations from St. Paul to Mankato and St. Cloud to New Ulm.

 It also didn't seem to be overtly biased toward one side. Seems often, even in history books, either the white people are painted as racist slugs or Native Americans as drunken slobs. Niebuhr does a good job of express Bishop Whipple's thoughts as being understanding of why Native Americans were a hair-trigger away from revolting against the government and white settlers, while also understanding the white settlers blood thirst for avenging the atrocities committed against them. It doesn't excuse any of the wrongs done by either side, but explains how the anger and emotions evolved.

 I also enjoyed the backstories on how Bishop Whipple came to know President Lincoln, how all this was going on as the Civil War raged, and how Gen. Pope was disgraced on the Civil War battlefield and relegated to clean up Minnesota's problem.

 The book boasts a stellar 4.8 of 5 stars from Amazonians. Goodreaders are a bit more bearish with a 3.7. It hit the 7 mark on the Haugenometer 1-10 scale. Here's a review from the MinnPost.

 I'd recommend this for any American history buff, a local history nerd or just your average slug like me who enjoys a good story.

4-star film review: 'My Many Sons'

Guest post by Mike Henriksen

Don Meyer lived four separate lifetimes: Successful athlete, coach at David Lipscomb, coach at Northern State, and fundraiser/public speaker. Weave in a tough childhood, a tragic car accident, and fighting cancer, and Meyer had more experiences in 69 years than most of us would have in three times that span.

I was honored enough to know Coach Meyer. Not as well as some, but better than many. Everyone who knew Coach well could fill at least a half hour with stories of his influence, his character, his humor, and his quirks. They can recite his rules. They can rave about his wife, Carmen. They can tell you he never wanted to talk about himself. They can tell you he was friends with John Wooden, Pat Summit, and hundreds of other coaches across the country because of the wildly successful summer camps he ran. They can tell you about the phone calls or notes they received from him, which always seemed to come at the perfect time.