Crime, Revenge and History: A Guest Post by Scott Adlerberg

Today I hand the blog over to Scott Adlerberg, which is something I should know better than to do, as after reading Scott’s description of the primary influences on his new novel (Jack Waters) I’ll now be compelled to up my game. I always enjoy reading Scott’s posts on the Do Some Damage blog, so it’s a treat to have him with us today.

Crime, Revenge, and History

A murder takes place within the first few pages of my new novel, Jack Waters.  The killer, who is the title character, goes on the run from his home in New Orleans.  This crime determines the entire course his life will take from there, so it's fair to say that crime is a central component of the book. Still, when people ask, I don't describe Jack Waters as a crime novel per se.  It's set in 1904, on a Caribbean island where Jack Waters goes after fleeing the United States as a fugitive, and on this island where he starts a new life, he becomes embroiled in a rebellion against a nasty dictator. He takes up with the rebels and has many dangerous adventures with them, all the while pursuing his own secret agenda.  What is this agenda?  I don't want to give everything away.  But the point is that Waters wants to overthrow the dictator for reasons that have little to do with politics and much more to do with personal vengeance.

So Jack Waters, no question about it, is more of a historical adventure tale than a crime novel. Of course, that doesn't mean it isn't soaked in blood.  It also doesn't mean that the books that served as an inspiration for it, though not specifically crime fiction, don't have a lot of tension and violence.  They do.  And I thought it might be interesting to look at a couple of these works, sources I drew upon for my deep dive (if 114 years is deep) into the past.

Michael Kohlhaas by Heinrich von Kleist (1810)

Heinrich von Kleist's novella is one of my favorite stories of any length of all time. If Jack Waters has a primary model, Michael Kohlhaas is it.  Set in the 16th century, in Saxony, the novella is about a horse dealer, Kohlhaas, who suffers a clear but relatively minor wrong at the hands of a nobleman. All Kohlhaas' attempts to get legal redress for the wrong fail, and through a series of escalating events almost surreal in their strangeness, he becomes public enemy number one and winds up leading a full-scale uprising against the region's powers that be.  He's feared by some (a terrorist to them) admired by others (a revolutionary to them), and the 80 or so pages of the narrative are remarkably dense with incident. The story is dark and thrilling, and qualifies as a revenge story for the ages, and perhaps most striking of all is Heinrich von Kleist's tone. Kleist never moralizes, and no matter how odd the events unfolding, no matter how frenzied the action, he maintains an uncannily flat voice.  Sentences are long and complicated, motivations tangled, brutalities extreme, but for the duration, the Kleist narrator remains controlled and dispassionate. It's hard to get a sense of where the author stands in regard to what he's depicting. Years later, another master of the outlandish, Franz Kafka, was a huge admirer of Kleist's stories, and one can understand why.  Kafka learned a lot about "deadpan style" from Herr von Kleist. 

Michael Kohlhaas is also an example of a certain kind of story you don't encounter often - a moral tale without an evident moral.  It's obvious from what goes on in the novella that it's preoccupied with morals and ethics and the quest for justice, the idea of justice as it relates to the idea of vengeance, but the author never lets you come down easily on any one side.  The story reads as if it should have a moral or a point you can put your finger on, and yet, in the end, it conveys a sense of ambivalence.  The story's telling is linear and its style crystal clear, but as a reader, you're not quite sure what you're supposed to take away.  A couple of readers have described Jack Waters as "a dreamy fable" and "a fractured fairy tale", and I have to admit I was happy to see they had this reaction. It's an effect, from the time I started the book, I was consciously shooting for, and to whatever extent I achieved it, I have no qualms about declaring that it's something I learned in large measure from reading Michael Kohlhaas.

Little Apple by Leo Perutz (1928)

Little Apple is another story about revenge and a man obsessed.  It was written by Leo Perutz, a Czech-born Austrian writer who lived from 1882 to 1957.  Perutz is an author who wrote in German and sold well during his lifetime - he wrote 11 novels in all - but who now has become almost unknown here.  It's a pity because a number of his books remain in print, and he's a master of fast-moving, suspenseful novels that often are set in the past and involve adventure and mystery. Jorge Borges, Grahame Greene, Ian Fleming, and Karl Edward Wagner are among his stated admirers, and an Austrian writer contemporary of his once described his work as "the possible result of a little infidelity of Franz Kafka [him again] and Agatha Christie".  That gives you a pretty good idea of what he's like.

Little Apple starts as World War I ends. An Austrian soldier named Vittorin has just been released from captivity in a Russian POW camp.  Though he returns to his family and a fiancé in Vienna, he vows to return quickly to Russia to inflict revenge on the sadistic camp commandant who brutalized him and his fellow prisoners during their captivity.  Nothing can deter him from this quest, nobody can talk him out of it, and he makes his way back to 1919 Russia, now undergoing a massive civil war after the Bolshevik Revolution.  In effect, Vittorin undertakes a manhunt in a Russia in chaos, and he gets buffeted around by all sorts of perils. Despite the dangers and many setbacks, he persists. Not unlike Michael Kohlhass - and Jack Waters - he's a monomaniac, and he has a remarkable ability to maintain his focus despite the threats and shifting political conditions around him.  

Perutz is a model for me in how to tell a historical tale in a compressed fashion. His prose is spare and uncluttered.  By showing you just the details you need to see, he creates a vivid world at the same time as he keeps his narrative moving forward.  He's good at dipping into the dark recesses of his characters' minds while maintaining pace and momentum, and he's able to keep in balance quite well the contrast between the individual pursuing his goal and the larger events going on around that individual.  The reader never loses perspective on either.  These are all things I tried to accomplish in Jack Waters, and again, as with Kleist's novella, I had a great source to study.  

Needless to say, these two works are not the only literary influences on Jack Waters, but they are two prime ones, and if you haven’t read one or the other, I couldn’t recommend them more. In my own mind, at least, single-minded, justice-obsessed, revengeful Jack Waters, a man who knows how to survive in a turbulent world and exploit political conditions for his own ends, is a character Kleist’s Kohlhaas and Perutz’s Vittorin would respect and admire.

(Broken River Books released Scott’s new novel, Jack Waters, on January 12.)

"Why Should I Read Bad Samaritan?" You Ask.

Well Bad Samaritan launched Monday and I’m two days closer to retirement. It’s a good feeling.

The Beloved Spouse™ mentioned to me this morning that it’s entirely possible not everyone who reads this blog may have obtained a copy yet. I was suitably insulted on your behalf, arguing readers of such erudition would surely have not only bought a copy by now but almost certainly have read it at least once already. (You’re welcome.)

Upon reflection it occurred to me some of you may have weightier things on your minds than reading my book. A little more encouragement could be in order. Okay. Here are some additional reasons why you personally should read Bad Samaritan. (Those who have already purchased the book may stop here, though you are welcome to forward this post as you see fit.)

TOP TEN REASONS TO READ BAD SAMARITAN

10. Donald Trump is not mentioned anywhere in it.

9. The author will stop calling you at home to read random excerpts.

8. Dick Dale (“King of the Surf Guitar”) makes a cameo appearance.

7. Books invite readers to use their imaginations and Lily O’Donoghue is smokin’ hot.

6. Eric Beetner didn’t publish a book this week, so what the hell?

5. Gives you something to do while avoiding the news.

4. Purchase by January 31 for a chance to have Goose intimidate the asshole of your choice.

3. Books invite readers to use their imaginations and Sharon is as hot as Lily if you’re of a certain age.

2. Reading Bad Samaritan will make you appreciate other Down & Out Books authors that much more.

1. The Sole Heir™ is still paying for medical school. I’m begging you, man.

Bad Samaritan is available at these fine locations:

Direct from Down & Out Books (Purchases of trade paperbacks from the Down & Out site include a free download of the e-book.)

Amazon — Trade Paperback | eBook 
Barnes & Noble — Trade Paperback | eBook 
iTunes — eBook 
Kobo — eBook 
Play — eBook

Bad Samaritan Drops Today!

That’s right. No more of that pre-order bullshit. You, too, can get a brand spanking new* copy of the fifth Nick Forte novel, Bad Samaritan, from any of these fine sources.

Direct from Down & Out Books

(Purchases of trade paperbacks from the Down & Out site include a free download of the e-book. (You heard me: Free! Gratis! Or, as Al Swearengen would say, “Free gratis.”))

Bad Samaritan is also available from these fine retailers:

Amazon — Trade Paperback | eBook 
Barnes & Noble — Trade Paperback | eBook 
iTunes — eBook 
Kobo — eBook 
Play — eBook

Bad Samaritan brings back elements of two earlier Forte stories. Lily O’Donoghue, the high-class call girl from The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of and Mickey Touhy from A Small Sacrifice. Their stories intersect, catching Forte in the middle of a no-win situation. Throw in the men’s rights advocate who’s making Becky Tuttle’s life miserable, and Forte’s dark side, which has been exercised more as the series has gone on, gets more room to come out than is healthy for anyone, including him. He still manages to find time to help the sister of Caroline’s best friend, though not in a way he’d want Caroline to hear of. Goose is back in a prominent role along with the usual cast of Sharon Summers, Delbert McCall, Jan Rusiewicz, and Sonny Ng.

Circumstances beyond anyone’s control have forced a condensed promotional schedule for Bad Sam, so if you know what’s good for you you’ll get your copy right quick, lest I feel the need to inundate you with months of blatant self-promotion and –aggrandizement in only a couple of weeks.

(* -- “Brand spanking new” is a figure of speech. Readers should not infer the book is to be used as a sexual aid with a porn actress, though I’m not judging anyone.)

Bad Samaritan Launches January 22

Nick Forte is worn down. Too much has happened too soon, too many things have gone badly, and the events in his fifth novel (Bad Samaritan) aren’t helping. Forte is in a darker place than in any of the other books, as the lengths he’ll go to help his daughter’s best friend’s sister, who is about to be expelled from private school because she got pregnant, show here.

CHAPTER 16

The Yates School looked as impressive as its tuition bills must be. The presence of kids everywhere kept it from feeling too stodgy, but it was a Stepford kind of vitality. Requests for spontaneity required written authorization twenty-four hours in advance.

Headmaster Oliver Willoughby kept me waiting forty-five minutes. His secretary reminded me several times I had no appointment and he was a very busy man. Lucky for me he was always willing to talk with a prospective student’s parent, in from out of town with only today to see him. My conscience twinged no more than the atoms in a molecule of concrete when I told her that story.

Isaac Meier had been no help. He appreciated my call and was grateful for the support, but the law had no remedy. He also didn’t see the need for investigative services even it did become a legal matter. Caroline’s a pleasure, he and Ruth were delighted Tyler had such a friend. Stop by the house any time.

People who have conniptions over the NSA’s transgressions would dig holes, climb in, and pull the dirt over themselves if they knew what a private investigator can access with a paid login to any of several online databases, a case number—real or manufactured—and some patience. I knew Oliver Willoughby’s date of birth, Social Security Number, employment history, military service—or, in his case, lack thereof—wife’s name and employer, the names of his children (Michael, Elizabeth, and Geoffrey), what he drove, his credit score, and how much he owed on his house before I turned in after leaving Goose. A little touch-up in the morning and I was ready for him when I entered his office at one o’clock that afternoon.

Willoughby was a perfect example of an elitist bending over backward to prove himself a regular guy. His disapproval of my attire was so slight a less experienced observer would have missed it. He apologized for the wait and expressed sympathy at my plight, which he believed to be my wife’s transfer to Chicago. I was looking for a job of my own, checking out Yates while I was in town so we’d know if it should factor into our housing search.

We spent half an hour touring the campus. Lisa Meier knew me by sight well enough to say Hi, Mr. Forte when we’d bumped into each other at a movie last summer. I hoped she’d not recognize me in an unexpected context, or at least have the presence of mind not to acknowledge me if she did.

The tour complete, Willoughby and I sat in his office with cups of English Teatime. “Is there anything else I can tell you to set your mind at ease, Mr. Forte? Something the tour failed to address?”

I sipped tea, replaced the cup on its saucer. Not as sweet as I liked it, but it wasn’t that kind of day. “There is one thing. I’m sure no one is more aware than you of the challenge it is to raise children today, especially a girl. Between peer pressure and the entertainment industry, we need all the help we can get. What is Yates’s philosophy along these lines?”

“Excellent question.” I’d been tougher than expected during the tour. He appeared grateful for the softball. “Yates has a firmly and carefully worded code of conduct. Bullying, exclusionary behavior, hazing, and fighting are all precisely defined and forbidden. Drug use and ethical study standards are also spelled out and, I’m happy to say, are strictly enforced.”

“That’s good.” I leaned forward, sat back, then forward again, trying to create an impression of a man struggling with an awkward question. “There are…certain…uh…let me put it this way: I looked for pregnant girls. Aside from setting a bad example, I wouldn’t want to find out the school’s reputation was tarnished by loose moral standards.”

“I understand completely. Rest assured we treat those concerns with the utmost seriousness. All students—and their parents—are required to sign an ethics and morals agreement prior to matriculation. It outlines acceptable and unacceptable behavior, and describes the consequences, including expulsion. Much of what you pay for here is a spotless reputation, embodied by our graduates, which will accompany your daughter throughout her life.”

“Outstanding. The last thing anyone wants is to have to watch a pregnant girt walk through graduation.” His aura dipped for a second. “Bad enough to have to explain the basketball under her gown to the younger kids. It reflects badly on everyone in the class.”

“Indeed.”

I relaxed into my chair. “This is a great relief. I expect these standards extend to the faculty and staff, as well?”

If that affected him, I missed it. “Of course.”

“The reason I ask, from the custodians up through the administration, the staff as a whole spends as much time with the children as the parents do. More, in some cases.”

“True.” Willoughby’s face showed signs of slippage.

“Considering the reputation that’s going to follow my daughter around for the rest of her life—” not that she had a chance of acceptance now, even if we were applying, “—as bad as it would be to see a pregnant girl on the stage, a faculty blemish would be even worse. I mean, they’re here as role models.”

“True again.”

“So no one would be happy to find out a faculty member has a tarnished reputation, even a—what do they call them?—youthful indiscretion. You know. Something like a drug arrest in undergraduate school.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Forte, I’ve been impolite. I neglected to ask your line of work.”

“I’m a professional investigator.”

“Professional? Are you a police officer? Or a federal agent?”

I shook my head. “Private.”

Color drained from Willoughby’s face like sand through an egg timer. “Did the Meiers send you?”

“The Meiers have no idea I’m here, and they never will. That’s going to be part of our deal.”

“What deal?”

“Lisa Meier stays in school.”

“You said the Meiers didn’t send you.”

“They didn’t.”

“Who, then?”

I smiled without teeth.

“A marijuana arrest thirty years ago—with probation, I might add—is hardly going to cost me my job. I’m sure many Yates parents avoided such a charge themselves only through luck, given our society’s conflicting attitudes.” Already waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“No argument from me. Not even I’d hold that against you. That pandering thing, though. Pimping out the girls in school and taking a cut, that’s different.”

“I was not a pimp! What happened there was—”

“A felony.” I left the word to stink on his desk. “Sentence suspended, no doubt thanks to your well-connected family. To be fair, no one was hurt. The girls all entered into it willingly. For all I know they came to you after the word got out you had something going. Still, you were a convicted whoremonger, and I’ll bet it’s not on your resume. Or your application. Is lying on your application a firing offense here?”

His voice was a whisper. “That happened thirty years ago. I realized my mistakes. Changed my life. If that doesn’t count for anything, then everything we do here—teaching boys and girls to be men and women—is meaningless.”

“I agree. I expect the parents and trustees may well be liberal enough to agree with us. Your gambling problem…”

“I do not have a gambling problem.”

“I can see how you might look at it that way. What you have, in fact, is a losing problem. Second mortgage on the house, stacks of credit card receipts for Vegas, the boats in Joliet. Even Tunica. Mississippi? Really? You’re the one with the Ph.D. in English. Maybe you know a classier phrase than ‘degenerate gambler,’ but that’s the one that sticks in my mind.”

Willoughby was pale as winter. “What do you want?”

“Lisa Meier stays in school. At Thursday’s meeting you’ll announce a change of heart. Tell them how among the things Yates needs to embody is compassion. Dress it up however you want. But she gets a pass.”

“The Meiers didn’t send you.” No doubt in his voice.

“I told you that already. Twice.”

“You’d ruin me—ruin my life, my family—for people you don’t even know?”

“You have my name. You know what I do for a living.” I nodded toward his computer. “Google me. I’ll wait.”

Willoughby tapped keys and clicked. His pallor grew. Snuck peeks at me as he read.

“Don’t miss the good stuff. Google my name, plus ‘Licati.’ Then try ‘Volkov’ and ‘Obersdorfer.’ I have time.”

I don’t think he got any farther than Volkov. “You’re threatening my life?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Everyone there, it was him or me. I just want you to know that ruining your life won’t cost me two seconds’ sleep, not with all the other stuff my conscience has rattling around in it. Lest you get the idea of calling what you think is a bluff.”

Willoughby stared at the monitor. “We straight?” I said. He nodded, still transfixed. “I want to hear it.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, we’re straight.”

“Yes, we’re straight on what?”

He tried for indignant, too scared to pull it off. “Yes, we’re straight that Lisa Meier will be allowed to stay in school to graduate with her class.”

I walked to the door without shaking hands. Paused at the threshold. “And I’m not going to have to come back here because I heard she’s been singled out for any reason.”

I had to listen hard to hear him. “No. Please leave.”

Bad Samaritan drops January 22 from Down & Out Books. You can pre-order before then or buy it for real starting Monday.

Favorite Reads of 2017

I’m ba-a-a-ack.

You didn’t think you were rid of me forever, did you? You’re not that lucky. This blog takes a licking and keeps on ticking. I’ll also pop up on some other worthy blogs over the next several weeks in a delayed effort to get the word out about the fifth Nick Forte novel, Bad Samaritan, launching January 22 from Down & Out Books. (More on Bad Sam next time.)

                                                         

There’s no better way to look forward to 2018 than to tie a bow on 2017. I read 59 books all the way through last year. Stealing Seizing an idea from another blog (I’d say which but I genuinely don’t remember), I decided it was pretentious to name the best books I read because who am I to say what’s best? I can name my favorites, and I had quite a few. I didn’t read as many books last year as I usually do, but the level of quality was high. I’d rather mention all those I thought worthy than write reviews, so I broke them out by categories.

Titles are listed in the order read. All are more than deserving of your time.

Favorite Reads by Authors New to Me

Scent of Murder, James O. Born

Random Victim, Michael Black

Only the Hunted Run, Neely Tucker

Favorite Reads by Authors Already Known to Me

Razor Girl, Carl Hiaasen

80 Million Eyes, Ed McBain

The Promise, Robert Crais

Nasty Cutter, Tim O’Mara

Tomato Red, Daniel Woodrell

The Mexican Tree Duck, James Crumley

Crime Song, David Swinson

Six Guns at Sundown, Eric Beetner

Down & Out, The Magazine: Volume 1, edited by Rick Ollerman

Money for Nothing, Donald Westlake

Hollywood Moon, Joseph Wambaugh

Favorite Re-Reads

Jimmy the Wags: Street Stories of a Private Eye, James Wagner

The Kid From Tomkinsville, John R. Tunis

All the Dead Voices, Declan Hughes

The Walkaway, Scott Phillips

True Grit, Charles Portis

Deadwood, Pete Dexter

Lonesome Dove, Larry McMurtry

Hombre, Elmore Leonard

Appaloosa, Robert B. Parker

Homicide, David Simon

Favorite Non-Fiction

The Big Short, Michael Lewis

Moneyball, Michael Lewis

Deadwood: Stories of the Black Hills, David Milch

Dodge City: Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson and the Wickedest Town in the American West, Tom Clavin

Bestseller Metrics, Elaine Ash

Famous Gunfighters of the Western Frontier, Bat Masterson

Age of the Gunfighter: Men and Weapons of the Frontier 1840 – 1900, Joseph Rosa

Astrophysics for People in a Hurry, Neil DeGrasse Tyson

Rise of the Warrior Cop, Radley Balko

(Eavesdropping on) A Conversation Between Angel Luis Colon and Scott Adlerberg

Among the joys of writing crime fiction is being a member of the crime fiction family. With life events keeping me away from my usual blog duties, friends (and kick-ass writers) Angel Colon and Scott Adlerberg cover me today.

Angel Luis Colón is the Anthony and Derringer Award-nominated author of No Happy Endings and the Blacky Jaguar series of novellas. His newest is a collection of short stories, Meat City on Fire and Other Assorted Debacles), which dropped December 4 from Down & Out Books, the leading independent crime fiction press despite having me in their stable of authors. Angel’s fiction has appeared in multiple web and print publications including Thuglit, Literary Orphans, and Great Jones Street.

Scott Adlerberg has a new book on the horizon (Jack Waters) but we’ll have more on Scott as that date approaches.

Keep up with him on Twitter via @GoshDarnMyLife.

Angel C: Let’s get things rolling with something a little off the beaten path. Let’s talk about lessons we learn from media but I’m not too concerned about what’s inspired/informed you that was of sound quality.

So, garbage media; specifically bad media that taught you what NOT to do. Can you cite anything specific you’ve read/watched/heard that made you say, ‘Oh, yeah, avoid that. That won’t work at all’ (and feel free to avoid names to protect the innocent)?

Scott A: Well, to start with, there are Hallmark movies.  No one needs to be told how terrible these are, but they are instructive in reminding you how ineffective and uninvolving as narrative are stories that are so relentlessly positive and "inspirational".  

But a bit more seriously, there is the flip side of that, miserabilism in storytelling.  There are those writers and filmmakers, etc who seem to believe that a relentless focus on the gloomy and somber, the bitter dregs of life if you will, means that the work has more seriousness and profundity - more "reality". Which is utter nonsense.  A good example to me is True Detective, the HBO show. Forgetting about the obviousness of its influences and all that.  That stuff didn't bother me so much. It had some derivative things, but a lot of good stuff is derivative of stuff even better.  That alone doesn't make something unenjoyable.  But the show, especially during the second season, had a ponderousness and a somberness that was insufferable.  A classic case of a story where the creators confused somberness with seriousness. There's no direct correlation.  You can be as serious as hell, but you don't have to be somber every single moment. In fact, without modulation between the two, the somberness comes off as just pretentious.  There's a line from Muriel Spark in her book Loitering with Intent that I love: she has her narrator, a writer, say that she is treating a certain story with a light and heartless hand, which is her way when she has to give a perfectly serious account of things. Not somber in the telling, but dead serious in intent.  Now Muriel Spark happens to be very witty and funny in her writing, and that doesn't come to everyone, granted, but over time, I've come to admire most works that mix darkness with some form of lightness, even when the overall narratives themselves focus on the darkest things. It's like when I started reading the Russians, Dostoevsky and Tolstoy (though not War and Peace).  I was expecting the heaviest, grimmest writing from what I'd been told by people (and maybe because of the faces on these writers), and you read these guys and they are dark as hell but also often funny. Page after page, they capture the ridiculousness and self-deceptions of human beings, the ironies of everyday life, the misunderstandings.  I use them as examples because when you think heavy, you think someone like a literary Russian.  Kafka? All bleakness? Well, when he read his stories aloud to his friends, they'd laugh a lot. In astonishment probably but also because in the very fiber of the bleakness he describes, there is so much absurdity you can't help but laugh.  Or if you think crime, in direct contrast to True Detective, think of one of its main inspirations, Chinatown, and you have a story where the tone has the nuances of life, back and forth, dark, menacing, yet shot through with moments of humor and, again, the absurd -- all coming to about as dark a conclusion as you can get.  Or David Lynch.  Who is more varied in mood than him?  The new Twin Peaks season was a perfect example - terror, sadness, loss, confusion, total existential horror, it's all there. But also all the moments of levity, connection, forgiveness, optimism, silliness, even love and joy. That's a complete work, a work with the kind of fullness I'm talking about.

But back to crime for a minute.  Most true crime TV shows remind me what not to do. There are so many of these shows now.  Episode after episode you get detailed depictions of abjection, intense cruelty, incredible stupidity.  And yes, a lot of real crime does consist of little more than this.  But as narrative this is not all that interesting, I find.  Nonstop brutality, banality and human idiocy.  Good crime fiction avoids this because, as a matter of fact, it's highly stylized.  Whether it's hardboiled crime or noir-tinged fiction and certainly traditional mystery stories. All of them are quite stylized portraits of crime and/or detection compared to these true crime type shows.   You can get pitch-black in fiction, of course, but by definition, a good work of art can't be "depressing". What happens in the story might be depressing, the story might be depressing, but the experience of the work, if well-done, is not depressing.  I guess it's all connected to that old college lit term, "the fallacy of imitative form".  You see it in a lot of the bad media you asked about.  You don't show boredom in a story by being boring, you don't make something more "real" or "serious" by being unremittingly somber or earnestly glum.   When I watch or read stuff that goes in that direction, I use that stuff as examples of what not to do.

A: We had a chat about voice recently—specifically about how some writers’ works are enhanced when you’ve heard them speak thanks to how distinct their voices are. You’re pretty well known for your voice but do you ever give that any real thought while writing? Do you ever play around with how you’re ‘telling’ the story?

S: A little bit.  I do know - and I've heard you talk about this - that I'm always reading what I wrote aloud.  And when I read it aloud, I suppose I'm reading it in something like the voice I use when reading at a Noir at the Bar.  If there's something funny, I'll read it aloud with what I think is the appropriate comic timing.  You want to hear that and get a sense of how it'll sound to others.  And overall, doing that, reading your story aloud as you're writing it, is an important thing.  That's when you realize the rhythm may not sound quite as it sounds in your head.  In your head, your paragraph sounds perfect. Then when you read it aloud, it sounds far from perfect.  And with dialogue for sure.  I'm sure a lot of writers do this, but it helps to act out the voices and play around with that.  Definitely helps you get a sense of whether a conversation, however long or short, sounds real, sounds alive.

A: What about artistic envy (the healthy kind)? I read Steve Erickson’s Shadowbahn this year and I honestly was at a loss with how angry I was that I am not at that level just yet. Have you read anything this year that made you sort of hate the writer for making you feel that need to step up your game?

S: Tough question.  I'd say the book I read this year that I most wish I could write is a novel from 2001 by Mary Robison called Why Did I Ever.  It's about a woman who has a script writing job in Hollywood and two grown children, boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, non-romantic friends, and she reflects on all of them and her life in 527 short segments. That's how the novel is told.  All these little fragments that over the course of the book come together to form a clear picture of her sometimes harrowing, sometimes disappointing, sometimes laugh out loud amusing existence.  Memories, confrontations, jokes, anxieties, what's happening in her life in the present. Clear, striking language but always using the simplest means.  Nothing fancy or forced about the language, no convoluted sentences.  I love how she doesn't tell a traditional, continuous story and experiments with form but keeps you wanting to read. And how she's able to get so much depth and emotion and humor across with that simple lucid language.  The book's been out of print a long time, but there's apparently going to be a reissue in early 2018.

A: What’s next? Are you writing or researching? Anything else dropping in 2018?

S: In January, I have my 4th book coming out - Jack Waters.  You might call it a historical revenge thriller. It's set in 1904 and about a guy, Jack Waters, who lives in New Orleans. He earns his money by playing poker. Through his gambling skill, he has a comfortable life, but one day he kills a man he catches cheating against him. On the run, he flees Louisiana, and he moves to an island in the Caribbean. It seems he'll be able to resume his poker playing life, but he runs into problems with the island's rich and powerful. Frustrated, he joins a rebellion against the government, but his reason for joining the revolutionaries has nothing to do with politics. He has his own reason for joining the rebellion, based on revenge against someone high up in the country.

I'm excited that's coming out soon, and right now I'm working my way into a new book, just getting into it, about 30 pages in.  It's about a woman whose son has disappeared.  She herself may have killed the 11 year old, her husband may have killed him, or something else may have happened. That's what will come out as the story unfolds, and she's the person telling the story.  At the pace I work, I figure writing the book will take up 2018.

A: There's always the question of what book or movie you've seen or plan on seeing. How about we go with music? What have you been listening to while you write lately? 

S: I never listen to music while actually writing, but there are things I put on beforehand to get in the mood.  I like the group Au Revoir Simone, which I didn't know of till I saw them in the new Twin Peaks (going back to Lynch), and there's this song Track of Time by Anna von Hausswolff that played during the closing credits of the movie, Personal Shopper.  Sounds like I only listen to music I discover in TV series or movies, but that's not true. There's always Philip Glass.  Tangerine Dream and Underworld.  I do listen to a lot of music, going back a ways, with what you might call an electronica sound of some sort, I realize. That gets me in a dreamy mood for writing.  

A Conversation With Les Edgerton, Part Two

Welcome back for Part Two of my conversation with Les Edgerton.

OBAAT: I’m not a fan of a lot of neo-noir, where I think some writers like to revel in their characters’ depravity. To me, Jake is the classic noir protagonist. Someone who makes a bad decision for what might seem like a good—or at least excusable—reason to him at the time, after which everything turns to shit. It’s not that he makes bad choices as the book progresses. He makes the best choices available to him at the time. Damn right I rooted for him. What makes you pull for a character when you’re reading?

LE: I didn’t know what neo-noir was before your explanation, but I’m with you in not being a fan of that, Dana. A few years ago, I was sent a novel by a newer writer for me to blurb and there was no frickin’ way. It read like this guy just picked up on all the salacious and stereotypical elements of bad guys and gave them all to his character and his story. It was clear he hadn’t read much and mostly it looked like he’d read a lot of so-called noir that had lately sprung up and thought that was his secret to success—just have his guy do every nasty thing in the world and that’s what noir was. I turned him down and told him why. I also told him that I thought he had some talent and that if he ever wanted to I’d be happy to read a new work if it wasn’t like that first one. To his credit, he did just that and the next novel he sent me was much better and very unlike that first piece of crap he sent. Nowadays, he’s a regular member of the “noir community” and shows up at the bar at B-Cons and has even served as a co-publisher with another writer for a small indie press. He’s not the best writer in the world, but he does pen a craftsman-like novel these days and I like most of his work.

Now, to your question—what makes me pull for a character I’m reading. First, that he has a story problem I feel is both interesting as well as compelling. If his story problem is some bullshit thing, I’m out of there quickly. If it looks like something that could happen to any of us then I’m in. I want to see him make intelligent choices. Those choices may turn out badly (and probably will), but the first time he makes a dumb decision, I’m outta there. Like I preach to my students, “Your protagonist should always make the decision or choice a person of at least average intelligence would make.” Amen. Someone who makes a choice that no logical person would make will have to carry on without me. That’s just a lazy, unimaginative writer behind that character.

There’s a movie I use to illustrate this. This was an actual movie that opened in theaters and later made the late-night TV circuit. I saw it in the theater and walked out halfway through it and asked for my money back. I didn’t get it, but did see the rest of it on TV a few years later and saw concrete proof that I was right.

The setup of this godawful movie was that there was this new-fangled office building in town that had a unique security system. The entire building was shut down on Friday evening and didn’t open back up until Monday morning. That established, the movie begins with this couple trapped inside this building with a bad guy after them. Why he’s after them I forget but it doesn’t matter. He is and that’s all that counts. The first half of the movie is mostly what my wife calls a “chasey-fighty” movie. This couple is all over this building—up and down staircases, elevator shafts, whatever. They keep barely escaping his evil clutches each time until—halfway through the movie—they run into this large office space that’s being remodeled. There are stacks of lumber all over, building supplies and tools everywhere they look. The guy finds a nail hammer and they hide behind a pile of lumber to wait and bushwack the bad guy. Which he does. It works out perfectly. The bad guy walks around the lumber pile and the good guy whacks him on the head with the nail hammer and he’s knocked out. The couple kiss and embrace, clearly with tongues and at this point one assumes the movie’s over. But, it’s only been going on for less than an hour! What the heck?

Here’s where the movie completely falls apart and where I walked out and asked for my money back. (Note to younger, less-experienced readers: Theaters never give refunds, no matter how pathetic the product they just sold you is.)

I use this movie in my classes to illustrate just how stupid Hollywood can be at times. I simply ask them if this was you and your significant other, what would you do at this point? You know this guy is out to kill you both and you know you’ve got the drop on him and he’s clearly knocked out. It’s only Saturday so you know you’ve got another day and a half before the building can release you. So, what do you do?

I get the same answers every time.

1. I’d kill him.

2. I’d find something to tie him up with (clearly possible as they’re in a room with all kinds of building supplies and tools and plenty of things to tie him up with.

3. I’d take turns with my partner in watching him, and every time he begins to stir whoever is watching him would bop him on the head again and knock him out.

That’s about the extent of the suggestions. All of these answers represent what a person of at least average intelligence would do. The litmus test of what to base your protagonist’s actions on. Never does anyone suggest what these movie geniuses actually do. Which is to throw the nail gun down and run away to hide again.

This is when I made my way to the lobby. That I was the only one to do so was discouraging. It kind of told me where our educational system was and where our country was headed…

The rest of the movie is the resumed chase which they “miraculously” win at the very end. Too late for me. My fear is that these mesomorphs will mate and it’s for sure their progeny is going to emerge from the shallow end of the gene pool and probably end up running our educational systems. Anyone who sat through the end of this if they have any active gray matter left, simply has to begin rooting for the bad guy. He’s the only one with any living brain cells left.

This was a for-real movie and what’s sad, this kind of thing isn’t that rare in movies or in novels. Too often a writer isn’t really much of a writer and opts for manipulating a plot like this guy did instead of doing the hard work of actually writing. Life’s too short to waste on these clowns.

OBAAT: More than most writers, you’re someone whose next book might be about anything. Crime, comic crime, memoir, writing instruction. (Note to aspiring writers: If you haven’t read Hooked, stop reading right now and get thee a copy. It’s not Les’s only instructional book, but it starts at the beginning, where all books should start.) How do decide which of the ideas that are pushing for attention gets written next?

LE: That’s easy, Dana. It’s the book that I’m most interested in at the time. Just about all of my agents have thrown up their hands at the way I work. More than one have begged me to create a series and I could never do that. I know it hurts my so-called career as that’s the way you build an audience, but I just can’t work like that. Writing to me isn’t just my “job”—it’s my life, and I have the rare opportunity to do what I enjoy doing in life. Writing the same character over and over just seems… what’s the word?... oh, yeah… boring. That’s just me and I don’t have anything against those writers who write series. It’s just something that’s alien to my world.

For one thing, if you write a series based on a character, it’s very difficult to create a character arc for the protagonist and that’s important to me. A novel series is more like a TV series than anything else. The protagonist in a television series remains largely unchanged. They’re more akin to short stories than novels. A contemporary short story only reveals a small truth, unlike the structure of former eras. The same for series television. Sam, the bartender in Cheers, learns a small lesson each week and seems to be somewhat transformed, but when the next week’s episode rolls around, he’s the same old Sam. To me, that’s boring writing and while I enjoy that kind of thing somewhat, it’s all surface entertainment and not anything profound. I’d rather try for profound and fail than have as my goal a lot of readers and money. I never want to be that shallow. And, I feel that to create monetary success in writing means writing to the lowest common denominator, i.e. surface entertainment, and that’s not something that interests me in the least.

Money has never been my goal. I’ve walked out on several opportunities to make a lot of money only because it was boring and I viewed it as an artificial way of living a life. I sold life insurance at one point and walked away from a job that would have made me a millionaire. I stuck it out for a year and was at the top of the game and saw how ridiculously easy making money was if I just kept doing the same thing, but just couldn’t face another day of doing something just to make my life comfortable. After all, how many cars can one drive at once, how many houses can one live in at the same time, how many possessions are enough? None of those things have ever mattered to me. I’m sorry, but my personal opinion of those who settle for this kind of life is that they’re basically cowards. (This isn’t going to win me many friends, is it? Like I give a shit…) Nowadays, I have to confess to a bit of regret as I have no income other than Social Security and the bit I make from book royalties and from the online class I teach and if I can no longer teach I’ll probably end up homeless, but that’s not the worst fate in the world. I’ve been homeless at various times of my life and it wasn‘t all that bad and I survived. I firmly believe I’d still not trade a bit of security at the end of my days for selling my soul to work at something I didn’t enjoy or believe in. And, I just don’t believe in being Salesman of the Month. I do believe in creating a book that affects people’s lives. And, not just “people’s” lives, but intelligent people’s lives. I confess to not have much interest in the average person. The average person is largely boring and I think that most are average by choice. Often, they simply don’t want to take any chances in their lives so their averageness isn’t being average at all, but being a coward. Who needs people like that? Other than politicians and ministers…  I’ve been blessed to have impacted the thinking of extraordinary people with a few of my books and that means far more to me than any pension plan or late-model car. And I realize that’s a rare philosophy and one that most would be unable to follow, but that’s all right. I never want to be like most people. Most people I think aren’t all that happy and have a bunch of regrets. I don’t have many regrets at all.

My next book is always going to be the one that interests me the most.

I’ve consistently enjoyed the new format of these interviews, but none has made me want to sit down with an adult beverage and discuss writing and the world more than this one. I hope you’ve enjoyed this time with les Edgerton as much as I have. Thanks, Les. You’re The Man.