By the Light of the Study Lamp

By the Light of the Study Lamp by Carolyn Keene (1934) The first Dana Girls Mystery. The ghostwriter was Leslie McFarlane, who wrote the original Hardy Boys a few years before this, and you can recognize some of his influence, as with some light touches like the comic relief, somewhat offensive portrayal of their housekeeper, named “Cora Apple.” But I read somewhere that he wasn’t too into it, so he only wrote the first four Dana Girls, then quit—I read his autobiography, but I forgot if he talked about this. I read the 2nd book in this series, a while back, and was a little disappointed at the lack of definition of the two Dana sisters—so with this one, I made a point to try to focus on their personalities a little more—and it occurred to me, they’re kind of a Hardy Boys version of Nancy Drew or vice versa. Louise is the older, dark-haired girl, and Jean, who is a year younger, is fair-haired and more impetuous. As I recall, the story was pretty wacky in that book, and this one is even more fun—a good mystery, it moves fast, and at times it’s totally over-the-top. Some people find excessive, unbelievable coincidences to be evidence of bad writing, but here it’s taken to such an extreme you’d have to consider it an art form! Sure, there’s a bit of predictability, but even when you do see some of it coming, it’s full of surprises. There’s danger, some strangeness, nostalgia, and even some hijinks at the girls’ school—scheming, and revenge—with the Danas getting the upper hand. There’s even a brief subplot about aggressive and unethical medical billing, believe it or else. Boy, the more things stay the same, the more they stay the same.

1.27.26

Buckeye

Buckeye by Patrick Ryan (2025) Can’t remember where I came across this—but naturally, being from Ohio—the title got my attention—it all takes place in the Buckeye State—though there’s also a character nick-named Buckeye. It struck me that I never knew anyone with that handle—it would seem too weird—are there any out there? For the most part, the novel rang true enough to be quite satisfying—and since it’s about the Second World War generation, I wasn’t there—but I sure have seen a few movies about the time. This story extends over a lifetime, and I’ll admit, that’s something that’s usually not my thing, to put it mildly—but I was willing to go with it, here, once I got into it. There are very strong characters who we get to love and know—and naturally, there were a few I wanted to get to know more, but it’s already a pretty long novel. I almost even cried at one point—only didn’t because I never do—and in this case, kind of turned on the story for being soap-opera-ish—but then was happy to forgive it. It’s set mostly in a fictional northwestern Ohio town—I tried to imagine a few places, based on size, and my travels, seeking out diners, in decades past. The feeling of the town is familiar and convincing. A couple things, by chance, really hit home. One character moves to Columbus—and had strong connections to the Lazarus department store, there, as I did. (I was fascinated with the store when younger, and later worked there, and was disillusioned. Jobs!) And then, my hometown, Sandusky’s famous amusement park (where I had my first job) figures in, especially near the end. I’ve written quite a bit about the terrifying double Ferris wheel—so I was happy, here, that it’s fresh, and metaphorical—yet still rides the edge between disaster and transcendence.

1.15.26

Flashfire

Flashfire by Richard Stark (2000) I can’t say these Parker novels are the most entertaining books, to me, I’ve read, in that they (so far, I’ve only read a few) lack a particular depth, spirituality, and even nostalgia—plus, the violence is almost too much for me—but there’s nothing more addicting, save for maybe potato chips. I suppose it’s an addictive quality akin to a manual, for a specific obsession—though I’m not remotely interested in any of these activities—robbery, revenge, hiding out—but I guess observing Parker assess a situation, and then decisively acting, is a real pleasure—because of his experience, intelligence, and even creativity. But then, maybe it’s simply a wild yarn, and you’re waiting to see what happens next, and it’s often not what you expect. There are some terrific surprises in this one. I only realized later that this book was the basis for a movie I’d seen—Parker (2013)—an even worse title than this book! Which I didn’t really care for—mostly because its tone was off-putting to me, while the book’s tone feels perfect for what it is—which maybe means tonally flat, washed out—and weirdly the place from which you might find inspiration. Once again, there’s a change of identity side adventure, integral to the plot—and it strikes me how that is more difficult than a heist. It’s funny how two of the hardest things to achieve, for people, is fame and a new identity. As with most crime stories, the most fascinating part is the chess match—and then, when you throw out all the rules, who can you trust, and how far, and for how long, and how completely?

1.8.26

The Secret of Skeleton Island

The Secret of Skeleton Island by Bruce Campbell (1949) Not to be confused with the Three Investigators mystery by the same name (also very good) but rather the first in the series of Ken Holt mysteries, and the first one I’ve read—as it’s the first I’ve found in a bookstore. They’re not rare, but a lot harder to find than Nancy Drew. I only recently read that the author (not to be confused with the “Evil Dead” actor) was actually Sam Epstein and Beryl Williams Epstein, a husband-and-wife children’s book writing team—which is interesting in itself. These stories are of the more highly regarded series books of the time, for their realism, I guess, and I found this one to be well-written, though oddly slow moving in places. The entire story takes place in a 48-hour period in which Ken has scant shuteye, and is kidnapped multiple times—all as we’re introduced to his background (journalist father, dead mother—another dead mother!). Then meets, by chance, future allies, a best friend (Sandy Allen) and a surrogate family—all while upending a particularly cutthroat crime ring. Unlike the Hardy Boys, who get knocked unconscious about once an episode, Ken and Sandy viciously coldcock several of their nemeses in this volume. I’m curious to see how quickly their knuckles heal and what adventure is next, and also, will the two friends ever have a falling out, say, over a girl? But my future reading will likely be determined by which books I find, out there—I do have another, I believe the fourth in the series—I don’t think I’ll worry about the order.

1.4.26

2666

2666 by Roberto Bolaño (2004) As a book object, it’s one of my favorites: the cool, mysterious title, the massive 900 page paperback (Picador)—2008 translation by Natasha Wimmer, published after the author’s death. His death doesn’t enhance it, and I wish he’d lived to write more, but this book does offer that hope—that a writer can live on through a book. Also, that a book, as an object, can be inspiring. His writing is funny, mysterious, challenging. I read The Savage Detectives awhile back, so really looked forward to this one. I still haven’t gotten through it, however, and might never, though I’ve read parts of it multiple times, and will continue to do so. It’s divided into five “parts”—not entirely connected—a lot of characters. There are a couple of threads that connect the whole. One is the fictional author, Benno von Archimboldi—an elusive, intriguing, and ultimately hilarious figure. I love nothing so much as stories about oddball authors. The other thing is the fictional Mexican border town, Santa Teresa, which is apparently based on Ciudad Juárez, a place partly famous for hundreds of murders of women, many unsolved. Santa Teresa shows up in the book as a kind of black hole, pulling the rest of the stories in. Part 4 is titled: “The Part About the Crimes” and seems to be an endless, straightforward, record of the aftermath of homicides, of women, in graphic detail. I understand that facing such reality might be important, and this brings up an eternal question—how much of reality does each of us need to suppress just in order to stay sane? And within the realm of art, what does it mean to depict it? It made me think of that Michael Haneke movie, Funny Games (1997), that I truly believe is not intended to be completed by the viewer. Likewise, this novel’s “Crimes” section is impossible for a sane person to really take in—so you must ask yourself, to what extent am I harming myself—either soul-wise or perception-wise, to get through it? I’m sure there are those who would disagree with me, and maybe our discussion is part of what’s important here. And apart from all that, there is an immense amount of this book that’s just pure enjoyment.

12.29.25

Trying Not to Be a Nature Poet

Trying Not to Be a Nature Poet by W. Joe Hoppe (2025) I read poetry frequently, but rarely entire books, beginning to end, and while I love the large volumes, it might take me years (or a lifetime) to get through them—for reasons that are two sides of the same coin. When I’m not connecting to poems, I find it best to put the book aside for a while. But when I do connect to one, I don’t like to just forge ahead because I’ll end up forgetting the one I connected with—so, then, it’s also best to put the book aside and come back later to re-read the one I connected with. That’s one reason I like short books like this one (sometimes called “chapbooks”) though in this case, I connected with all of them. They are nature poems, and they aren’t, if that makes sense. It does to me. W. Joe Hoppe is an old friend, though I haven’t seen him in years, like many, many old friends, but a book like this feels like a visit from the past, along with acknowledgment that we’re getting older. Weather in the Midwest, wildlife, time passing, things changing and not changing, those are my favorite subjects—but seeing these things in slanted ways, to remind us of how we saw things for the first time—or the first time we really saw them. You know, decay, and rebirth, and the nature of time. Personally, every snowfall makes me into a little kid again, even in the rare years when I feel like I’ve had enough. There’s so much about, say, Christmas, that I don’t love, but there’s just enough, sometimes to bring back what was once magical. There used to be a Christmas tree lot one block from where I live—which was the best thing in the neighborhood. Now it’s an empty lot, long gone. Nothing in the world lasts, and that’s one reason we have poetry.

12.25.25

Whiskey for the Holy Ghost

Whiskey for the Holy Ghost by Edward Mullany (2025) A fascinating, compelling book of very short stories of one paragraph each, most less than a single page. They’re broken up into seven sections (“Writers,” “Drinkers,” “Families,” etc.) though the subject matter might exceed those categories. Personally, I’m tempted to read the book as a novel—straight through—which I did—or even a “memoir”—though there’s no indication that it’s not all fiction. But it feels very personal, intensely intimate, even, though none of the stories are necessarily from the specific point of view of the author, Edward Mullany—and some definitely are not. But I could not help feeling, overall, a portrait of a life, and a way of thinking. The other intriguing thing is the overall style, which sets some strict rules—first and most striking is that each of the 100-plus stories is accompanied by a black and white line drawing—so that the stories are on the right facing page and the drawing opposite it. Nowhere is the artist credited, which leads me to believe not only is it the author, but the drawings are an integral part of the stories—and they really do—with a minimum of line—create distinct feelings. Great drawings! Sometimes they relate directly to the corresponding stories, or their titles, and sometimes they don’t—in any way I can figure. The same can be said for the titles. The other most striking stylistic “rule” is that the sentences are mostly very long with a lot of parenthetical asides that are only set off by commas, so they can be hard to follow, yet they get the feeling of a disjointed and disorganized verbal storyteller. But nowhere is used the dreaded (and my weakness) “em-dash,” parentheses brackets, or italics—so you’re free from those “crutches”—but you have to work a little, for meaning, sometimes. Also, interesting, some of the stories feel slight, unfinished, or without a point, while others are emotionally heavy, feeling like confessions, even—yet they all work together—they really do.

12.17.25

The Haunts of Drowning Creek

The Haunts of Drowning Creek by Manly Wade Wellman (1951) A pretty engaging boys’ adventure about two friends who decide to take a canoe trip along Drowning Creek—a real place, in North Carolina—real wilderness, overgrown trees, cottonmouths, all that—plus the world’s most dangerous animal—humans with gold fever. And indeed, there is a legend of hidden treasure up ahead. The story moves ahead with a deliberate pace—which I really do appreciate. You know there’s going to be some action, but I enjoy the mundane, as well—the depiction of canoeing on along the creek, camping, and making food. There’s some really great atmosphere and occasionally some pleasingly flowery writing. Of course, readers like me who saw the movie Deliverance (1972) (never read the novel!) can’t help being extra creeped out by some of the locals. But—even though there is danger—and some very bad men—the boys meet some new friends along the way—real characters, too—and as the adventure deepens, so do the rewards. And, let’s hope, some lasting friendships.

12.4.25

Shaker

Shaker by Scott Frank (2015) I listened an audio version of this book with a really good narrator (Dion Graham) after I heard the author—screenwriter and director, Scott Frank—on a podcast, and I was inspired by his process of writing it. Also, it seems like he likes a lot of the same stuff I do—so I related, there. It’s a pretty irresistible, addictive “page-turner,” on one hand—and I’m sure not going to either summarize or give away the story, okay? Also, it’s pretty convoluted, with a lot of characters coming and going—including long, detailed backstory sections that—while I’m often not into—I found really compelling—well-written and interesting. As it goes along, the level of violence keeps ramping up—which is saying something, because it depicts a lot of violence from the start—so I came close to putting it down, several times—too much for me. I’m not sure why—I felt manipulated by its over-the-top levels, maybe—or just turned off. But at the same time—I felt encouraged to continue, maybe because my favorite parts were the portraits of the career criminal, Roy—a fascinating, complex kind of half-person—and also, the woman cop with problems—Kelly. The ultimate-villain, Albert, however, I never got over feeling was too much—too much a Hollywood creation. I mean I know there are awful, cliché-humans out there, but I don’t need to spend time with them. Also, the backdrop of seismic activity is… maybe unnecessary? Kind of… all this plus the kitchen sink. That’s a lot of criticism, I guess, for a book I was definitely compelled (audio version, anyway) to follow to the end—and ended up liking.

11.20.25

The Case of the Missing Message

The Case of the Missing Message by Charles Spain Verral (1959) I never read a Brains Benton series mystery—finally found like #4, but then realized that this book, off my shelf, is actually the first in the series. Different author name—but I guess after this first one he used a penname. Also odd, there are only like six books—then a forty year plus gap—and then more, I believe by other authors. It’s a mystery—though probably too close to home for the Benton and Carson International Detective Agency, introduced within (not to be confused with the equally as elusive Carson Street Detective Agency). This book is from 1959, but my edition is from 1966, a “Golden Pleasure Book”—published in London—same size as the Whitman “Big Little Books”—also full of illustrations (not as many—it’s mostly text—but there’s some good ones, by J. Pecnard). It’s first person—a guy named Jimmy Carson (codename “Operative Three”) a regular kid (who turns out to be pretty extraordinary), with a paper route, etc.—who assists his genius (though turns out to be mortal) friend, Brains Benton (codename “X”—no doubt the inspiration behind the Twitter re-branding). I don’t think the “second” guy (Operative Two) was killed or anything, but rather they’re just being tricky about it—though they do find another friend in this book—a young circus performer who needs their help. It’s a pretty standard mystery with a lot of colorful characters, some suspense, odd cars, and lots of animals. We get an introduction to their secret headquarters, which isn’t quite as cool as the Three Investigators’ place, and a bit less believable—but still, I wanted more of that. I hope it’s central to the later books—a personal preference of mine—secret forts, treehouses, hideouts, headquarters—that’s what I’m in for.

11.11.25

Pronto

Pronto by Elmore Leonard (1993) “Why in the hell would you do that?” is a question everyone can relate to—way too much—when considering choices made by humans—the good, the bad, and the utterly incomprehensible. And could be the terrible title of this book, even worse than the actual one, but more apt—though I suppose “Pronto” used in the Italian sense is a better word than our English version. This story is like a mini-catalog of Italian gangster types—meaning, in this case, people involved in illegal activity as a way of living. To what extent they are all clichés, I don’t really know. (You certainly meet plenty of people in real life that you feel are “like clichés”—yet they’re real people!) I feel like if I was Italian, I wouldn’t love the portrayals here, though, probably, I’d also not be thrilled if I was Black, or a woman—with those few depictions. As a hayseed, however, hell yes. That said, the more you appreciate it as a comic novel, which it is, the easier it is to swallow. Every character is made fun of, to some degree, so it’s somewhat fair, in that sense. But then, it is a crime drama, with suspense, violence, and tragic killings. I’ve never read any Elmore Leonard—hard to know where to start—audio-booked this version—the narrator is so entertaining, it was the closest to watching a TV show I’ve experienced though headphones—hard to put it down—really fast moving, and spare, and for the most part, a lot of fun. It follows several characters—sets them up like a mad experiment, with all their shortcomings—and then they mix and clash in expected and very unexpected ways. Hard for me to figure if it’s a guilty pleasure or not—I suppose that would depend on who I’m answering to—and seeing how I’m barely discussing anything with anyone, it’s just me and my conscience.

11.6.25

The Harder I Fight the More I Love You: A Memoir

The Harder I Fight the More I Love You: A Memoir by Neko Case (2025) Neko Case is somewhat mysterious to me, based a few records I’ve heard, and another band she’s in (New Pornographers), and I’ve admired her, so I liked hearing her talk on a podcast (Marc Maron), a lot of which was about this book, an inspiring and harrowing memoir. I realize memoirs are a version of a person’s life, based on memory, but more important, the ability to interpret it in a way that connects with the audience. It’s a work of art, of course, and this is a good one. It pretty much goes chronologically, and then gets more into some ideas and philosophies at the end—which is a good approach, here, because of the hardships she endured early in life—some pretty unique dramas—that I’m not going to give away—same as if I was talking about a fictional story. In fact, if it was fictional, you might find it harder to believe. She grew up in the Pacific Northwest, where I lived for a while (I tried to figure if we might have crossed paths), and her depictions of some of those smaller, backwoods towns are harrowing—as well as her painting the generally haunted feeling of the entire region. I loved it there, and also, I didn’t—and I feel like she might feel the same—glad to get away? Will always miss it? A lot of heartbreak, but also, she met some good people, some of them musicians, and that’s a long road. All the stuff about playing music is interesting and inspirational, and the stuff about touring—which she grew to love—good stories. I think younger people who are interested in music—whether or not they are a fan of hers—could find this book important to them. And also, her musing on animals, and particularly horses, is really moving, to me, and I think would be to anyone with similar feelings and convictions. It’s pretty much at the core of this book.

10.16.25

The Mystery of the Marble Angel

The Mystery of the Marble Angel by John and Nancy Rambeau (1962). The second book of The Morgan Bay Mysteries series (notable because my first ever book report was another book from this series—The Musical Ghost—around Second Grade). It’s one of those books with “Exercises” in back, and vocab words—the mystery isn’t much—but then the word count is 7500 with only 312 different words. The thing about this book (and the series), though, is the art—which is a major inspiration—by illustrator Joseph Maniscalco. First, there’s the cover—the picture extends onto the back—and shows one of the kids at a creepy guy’s door in a long hallway in a rundown hotel. The weird thing is, the same picture (almost) is in the middle of the book, but it’s the reverse angle! It kind of blows your mind! These illustrations are all full page (some two page!), brown and white, movie-like, stills—they look like paintings. Lot of movement and expression, odd angles, inventive, surprising viewpoints on the action. You could take pretty much any one of them, put it in a frame, and hang it in a museum. But then you’d have to destroy the book—which is worth collecting—why? —because of the pictures! And best yet, each of the books, I’ve seen, features some kind of map in front, by the contents—and this one has what looks like a satellite image—from above—of Morgan Bay (of course!)—you can see the blocks and individual houses—and a few of the crucial locations are pointed out. You don’t need this for the story, not at all, but it really gets you in the mood for the book. It’s really excellent. So, I got to thinking, since the story is kind of a letdown—I’d like to take these illustrations and then write my own story, just following the pictures. Great idea! But I can’t figure out how to do that without destroying the book—and I don’t want to, since it’s in my collection!

10.8.25

Zuckerman Unbound

Zuckerman Unbound by Philip Roth (1981) I waded into this one unenthusiastically—I don’t know why—maybe the off-putting title. I can’t think of a worse title—well, there’s plenty (Rabbit Redux, Ratner’s Star, I, Robot) and it’s not Philip Roth’s fault a more famous “Zuck” came along. No audiobook available (to me), so I was reading it at work between angry phone calls. But I zipped through this book (it’s relatively short) and looked forward to it every minute I wasn’t reading it—it reminded me of why I love reading. It’s the return of Philip Roth’s writer protagonist, Nathan Zuckerman, dealing with life—that’s possibly based on the direct experience of the author. The first of these I read was, I believe, the last, Zuckerman in his seventies (Exit Ghost) which I really liked. Most recently I read The Ghost Writer, the first. In this story, he’s dealing with massive, somewhat unexpected, success and uncomfortable notoriety—even infamy, depending on who you ask—due to his sexually and in other ways explicit novel, “Carnovksy”—and you get as weary hearing about it as he does. I probably haven’t ever read anything that made the idea of fame seem less appealing—even harrowing and dreadful—but there’s a part of me that has always imagined this trajectory without even experiencing it. Even though the story is elegantly told, somewhat low-key and measured (which works to great effect, almost like a magic trick), there are some pretty seismic events related, some absolute craziness—and in the event that anyone might be reading my acknowledgement, here, who hasn’t read the book, and might, it would be a disservice to go into any more detail. After you’ve read it, let’s talk about it!

9.30.25

Vineland

Vineland by Thomas Pynchon (1990) Another odd Pynchon journey, for me, which is much more fun to write about than trying to synopsize or critically assess this book (which I don’t do anyway). Over the years, I’d try to read it, abandon it, come back to it, etc., countless times. I always loved the beginning, about Zoyd, who I relate to, but then the story goes to his ex and other characters—and I’d get bogged down. Finally, recently reading it through (at work—an okay read-at-work book!), I had the observation that there is something in the writing style (of this book, not Pynchon in general) that kept disconnecting me—though I’m not critically savvy enough to identify it. Likely, I’d’ve fared well with a well-narrated audio book and just let certain things slide by. Anyway, I did get to the end, and it was satisfying. I had read the rumor that Paul Thomas Anderson’s new movie is roughly based on it (or inspired by it?) so that’s a good incentive. And indeed, there are flashbacks to the time and place of Inherent Vice (2009), and it feels like it could be a semi-sequel to that book, though this was published way before, of course. The story here is set in 1984—so Reagan permeates it throughout (given time, shit can sell like nostalgia, so watch out). And it even feels a little like right now—or even tamped-down right now—at its most paranoid crazy, it doesn’t ratchet-up to our fucked-up times, at present—which is not a criticism, except of our times. On a happier note, I always loved the hardback dustjacket, for some reason—even though it’s just a b&w photo of a hill, on fire, I guess—but, I mean, the whole presentation, too. Maybe it’s just the nostalgia of books—that promise of a world—anyway, reading it hasn’t diminished either the joy of starting it over and over, or staring at the cover—though, sadly, I seem to have lost my dustjacket. It’ll turn up.

9.18.25

The Silver Spoon Mystery

The Silver Spoon Mystery by Dorothy Sterling (1958) I found an old children’s mystery involving secret codes (I’m always looking for those!) and then realized I had this Scholastic Book Services paperback, from two years earlier, by the same author—so I thought I’d read this first—and it turned out to be a satisfying and bizarre mystery about the theft of some antique silver spoons from their library’s historical society display. It ends up being more about ethical and responsible behavior in a difficult situation, but I won’t give away more than that—there’s still a mystery at hand! Solving the mystery is up an entire crew of kids from several tightknit families, neighbors in a particular section their small, suburban town. It’s such a big group it makes Trixie Belden’s gang seem intimate. I’m not going to go over the names and their well-drawn relationships—the story sides with the older girls, for the most part—and one of the boys who’s a mystery story enthusiast. There are some pretty good adventures—the best one being one of the kids’ surveillance trip to the big city. The most bizarre part, however, is about the kids making local newspapers—a good hobby! Except, they have two competing papers, and in an attempt to pull off a “scoop,” some of the girls create a news story about the theft of the spoons (I mean, this is before the crime is committed!) —just making it up! —not fully understanding that they’re doing anything wrong. I’m sure Orson Welles would have been onboard! When the actual crime is committed, mirroring exactly their fictional version, all hell breaks loose, as you can imagine. I wondered for a moment if we were getting into a children’s metafictional realm! Well, there are reasons for it all, which we will see, but in the meantime—a pretty good, head-scratching yarn.

9.9.25

Diamonds Are Forever

Diamonds Are Forever by Ian Fleming (1956) I sometimes engage in the worthless pastime of planning the future of the 007 franchise, but then it occurred to me that I had never read any of the Ian Fleming novels—still haven’t, but I listened to an audio book of this one—very enjoyable! Good narrator (Robert Whitfield), and I liked how it really moved along, but still spent a lot of time on seemingly unimportant (but fascinating) details—also, the characters. The move version is way different (I’m guessing most of them are), but the movie is one of my favorites of the Bonds, despite its considerable drawbacks. Also, I’m writing something (novel) and using the character name, Peter Franks—mostly to amuse myself—because I love how silly that chapter of the movie is. I was happy that the book’s very different version of that early episode is also charming, as is the character Tiffany Case—and I couldn’t help but think of Jill St. John, my first movie star crush. Right from the start, however, the book’s fascinating depiction of the James Bond character gave me a very new idea of him—and I didn’t think about Sean Connery or any of the other film Bonds. Anyway, I liked it, and I might check out more—kind of a “guilty pleasure”—but since I don’t believe in that concept, I don’t know why I said that. A lot of fun, I guess, and funny, as well. Oh, especially the character of Felix Leiter—the versions of him in the movies are many, and very different, but always pretty great—and no exception here.

9.4.25

Trixie Belden and the Mysterious Visitor

Trixie Belden and the Mysterious Visitor by Julie Campbell (1954) The fourth book of the Trixie Belden series, the fourth one I’ve read, and my favorite so far. It’s a real slow-burn mystery, like the others—Trixie overstepping sensible bounds (lucky for us), getting a lot of crap from her brothers and Jim, her girlfriends, the adults, the annoying “comic relief” brother, Bobby, and especially the “Mysterious Visitor”—who we have no doubt is a phony, a criminal, and title character, from the first time we hear about him. What is fun is how it all comes together. New friend “Di” Lynch is introduced and is inducted into the “Bob-Whites” club. She’s as wealthy as Honey, and has even more anxiety—for a while, you wonder if each time we see her it’ll end with a freakout. I love Trixie, of course, but Honey continues to be my favorite character—I love her personality—but my favorite in this episode is Mart Belden—his elevated, exaggerated speech goes to the next level—very funny. These are surprisingly long books, and I like how this one doesn’t rush to a conclusion. The edition I have—one of those Whitman’s with a glossy, full-color illustrated cover (which extends over the spine and on back) is one of the best I’ve seen. It’s a depiction of Di’s large, family house—the “Terrace” with rustic and MCM design—they totally go for it. Trixie, in a bathrobe, is in confrontation with the title character. Blue shaded line-drawing illustrations inside are by Mary Stevens, one of the best.

8..31.25

Modern Massacres

Modern Massacres by Timothy Willis Sanders (2022) I really don’t read a lot of books of short stories (except Jesus’ Son, over and over, ha)—or short stories, anywhere, really, but I like when a book feels like a whole thing, like this one—not that the stories are connected in any obvious way, thematically or stylistically—I guess in the “voice,” of course, though even that’s not that obvious. But it feels like a perfect little book—exactly 100 pages, and a great cover—it’s from Publishing Genius Press. I’d never heard of Timothy Willis Sanders—but I heard him on a podcast (otherppl, where I hear of a lot of writers for the first time) and I liked his interview. It’s funny, the book kind of makes me think of a vinyl record album, for some reason, six songs (stories) per side, as if there’s a center point. I’m not going to summarize them—but some are about childhood (which I’ve been trying to write about)—and some, the time between childhood and being an adult—I wouldn’t necessarily say “coming of age,” because I’m not comfortable with that term, exactly—but I suppose some of these stories could be considered that. Learning hard things about the world. My favorite story is one called “Officer Walter” which is about the narrator’s relationship to that particular cop, who kind of mentors at his school, and then has a questionable relationship with his mom—and then a series of run-ins with the police, involving friends, drinking, drugs, the usual. Each part of the story is a new twist—it kept surprising me—often disturbing, but also mundane—even reassuring to an extent—but sad, too—really back and forth. This is the first one that I’m going to come back to. Stories need to be read over again—like poems—well everything does—but especially stories!

8.26.25

Dirty Money

Dirty Money by Richard Stark (2008) This might be the last “Parker” novel—unless there’s some weirdness like ghost-writer versions—or real ghosts. I’ve picked out a couple to read, kind of at random—not wanting to get hooked in reading the whole series (two dozen or so), but it’d be easy to get hooked! I listened to the audio book, actually—good reader, and that makes it even more addictive. It’s funny, the story starts after a crime (not sure if the heist in question is in an earlier book). Parker and his cohorts have robbed an armored truck—so the story here is trying to deal with a ton of hidden cash with the serial numbers on file—making it “dirty”—I love this setup. Parker is forced to enlist the help of a lot of colorful characters—my favorite is a woman named Sandra—she’s vivid and very strong. All the intrigue comes from trying to get around the authorities, and the potential double-crosses of those involved in the robbery and those involved in exchanging the dirty money for untraceable cash. Also, Parker has to go to great lengths to get a new, fake identity—and that part is fascinating. A lot of the story is of the nuts-and-bolts descriptions of how they carry all of this out. Not that you could learn, from it, to be a criminal, really—it all makes a “regular” job sound easy. Very entertaining, though—it felt like watching a movie with no slow spots and just enough humor. Even if the characters are mostly reprehensible, they’re fun to be around in a fictional realm—even weirdly inspiring—or maybe it’s the writing that’s inspiring. I’d love to be able to write that cleanly.

8.19.25