Shameless Plug – Part Eleventy-Billion

What can two bucks buy you in today’s economy? A copy of my book, that’s what! For the entire month of August, the Kindle edition of Twice the Trouble is on sale for just two bucks. That’s right. Just two Ameros!

You should buy it! Right now! Don’t give me that “I don’t even have a Kindle” crap! Just buy the damned book. Buy buy buy!

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Feed the Tree”

The early 1990s were an amazing time to be alive. The Cold War was over, the internet was changing the world, and the economy was booming. And the music! Grunge was pumping new life into the American and British rock scenes, resulting in an alt-rock renaissance. I’ve already written about many of the great bands of this era, but there were a lot of great smaller ones, too.

One of my favorites was Belly, which was the creation of a young genius named Tanya Donelly. In 1991, Donelly was already an established rock artist, having co-founded the band Throwing Muses with her sister when they were both still in high school. (She had also formed another great band called The Breeders.) Donelly’s influence was all over the college-rock radio stations in that era, and Belly’s first album, Star, was one of my first purchases after grad-school when I finally got a real job (and, shortly thereafter, a real stereo).

The biggest hit on Star was this little gem, “Feed the Tree.” I like it because it’s slightly atonal, off-kilter, and yet very beautiful. More importantly, it overflows with the two emotions that are essential to any good rock song: desire and anger

It’s too bad we don’t have a good, portmanteau word for this combination, kind of the opposite of lovingkindness, because I think it is the essence of rock-and-roll. But I digress… 

Rock on…

Classic Sci-Fi Book Cover: “The Early Asimov – Volume 1”

Ever since I started this series, I’ve been meaning to write a post about Chris Foss. For a sci-fi nerd growing up in the 1970s and ’80s, it was impossible not to see and be familiar with Foss’s artwork. After all, he illustrated more than 1,000 book covers during his long and celebrated career. His style is so distinct and memorable that one can recognize it on a bookshelf (or a computer screen) from twenty yards away. 

I remember seeing some of his sci-fi book covers back in the 1970s and being struck by their originality and vividness. He specialized in images depicting spaceships or futuristic craft, which he rendered with a strange, industrial-style realism that was new and striking. In particular, his spaceships look like real, constructed things with visible welds and spanners and plates, often painted in bright, almost nautical color schemes. He also likes to depict smoke. Or mist. Or dust. Something to give the otherwise static vacuum of space some drama and sense of motion. 

His work was so good, in fact, that no one seemed to care whether the depicted image had anything to do with the plot of the book itself. Often, it did not. But that didn’t matter. The cover always said two things: science fiction and drama. And that was enough. It was plenty. 

While I was doing a bit of research for this post, I was delighted to learn that Mr. Foss is still alive and still working. You can see more of his artwork on his website, which I encourage everyone to visit.

Today I Learned a Word: “Melisma”

I’ve always been a huge fan of Steve Winwood. Even as a kid, I loved how clean and bright his songs were, without ever being sappy or trite. Rather, they kept an edge somehow. Eric Clapton once said that Winwood was like a young, White, British Ray Charles. I kind of think he was right. 

Not long ago, I stumbled upon one of Winwood’s music videos. It was for “Valerie,” one of his greatest solo hits and one of my favorite songs of all time. The video was on YouTube, of course, and whoever posted it included lyric-captions. Normally I don’t like to follow the captions on a music video, but for some reason I did this time. And as I followed Winwood’s phrasing, I noticed something I had never seen before. Namely, the way he often splits single syllables into multiple notes. Take the line: “Music, hi and sweet.” It’s five syllables, but he sings it as six notes. 

If you are a music major, or anyone who knows a bit about voice training, you are probably rolling your eyes right about now. The technique that Winwood is using is so basic that it’s been around for thousands of years at least. But, being a musical ignoramus, I never thought of it before. It is, I just learned, called melisma and is usually contrasted with syllabic singing, in which notes and syllables match each other one for one. 

Ironically, as I did a bit more searching on the internet, I found a Facebook post by Winwood himself, mentioning melisma. It was in reference to the passing of the great singer Christine McVie of Fleetwood Mac. Winwood commented on how McVie stood out from many of her contemporary singers by virtue of her syllabic singing. And he’s right. McVie’s phrasing was so sharp it was almost like that of a jazz singer. 

And yet, off the top of my head, I can think of several instances of when McVie used melisma to great effect. My favorite example is in “You Make Loving Fun,” when she splits the word “believe” into so many notes I can’t even count them. And each one goes right through me each time I hear it. 

It’s taking me this many years to learn the definition of melisma. Go figure. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but you can teach them some new words.

The Importance of a Great Setting In Crime Fiction (Repost)

What’s worse than a shameless plug? A rerun of a shameless plug!

I’ve been laid up with back problems all week and haven’t been doing much, so I thought I would repost this oldie. I had a lot of fun writing this essay. Many thanks to the good people at CrimeReads for giving me the opportunity.

Check it out…

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Alex Chilton”

If you had a clever and edgy punk/garage band back in the 1980s, and if that band got picked up by indie college radio stations, you were likely to get slapped with the label of “college rock.” Many great bands suffered this fate. Some, like R.E.M. and the B-52s, were able to grow beyond it. Others, like The Replacements, never really did.

I knew a girl who was so into The Replacements that she would only refer to them by the insider-fan name, “The Placemats.” She had great taste in music (and probably still does). I thank her, belatedly, for introducing me to one of their best songs, “Alec Chilton” (entitled, obviously, after another great indie rocker).

Rock on…

R.I.P. Kenneth Colley

Once again, I’m writing a very belated obituary for a fine actor. The great British character actor Kenneth Colley passed away a couple of weeks ago. Thanks to the enduring magic of Star Wars, many young people today will know Colley from his brilliant, understated performance as Admiral Piett (a.k.a. the closest thing Darth Vader has to a trusted friend) in The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi.

With his stern voice, dour face, and no-fucks-left-to-give demeanor, Colley specialized in world-weary, authoritarian roles. But like Gene Hackman (who also passed away recently), Colley was an amazingly versatile actor who appeared in dozens of films and TV shows, playing everything from Jesus in The Life of Brian to Frédéric Chopin in Lisztomania.

My favorite of his performances was that of a revenge-corrupted cop in the great Inspector Morse series episode “The Second Time Around.” 

Godspeed, Mr. Colley…!

What I’m Watching: “The Intern”

There is a moment in Nancy Myers’ excellent 2015 film The Intern when the main character, Jules Ostin, complains about a man who has accused her of running a “chick-site.” Played with winning smarts and verve by Anne Hathaway, Jules is the powerhouse CEO of The Fit, a start-up on-line fashion company which she founded and which is doing gangbuster business out of its Brooklyn headquarters. This is a very telling moment in the narrative, not only because it reveals so much about Jules’s character—i.e., that she hates being pre-judged by chauvinistic men—but also because it gets at some larger aspect of the film as a whole. 

When critics, and especially male critics, put the prefix “chick-” before something, what they are really saying is that the thing in question has been cynically designed to appeal to women. When applied to films or books, the term means that the work is guilty of a specific kind of sentimentality. That is, it contains tropes and cliches, which women are (supposedly) prone to react to, regardless of whether they work dramatically or not. Puppy dogs. Cute kids. Men crying. Women crying. Break-up scenes. Makeup scenes. The viewer’s/reader’s emotional reaction is not earned. It’s pre-programmed.

Of course, it goes without saying that men are just as susceptible to sentimentality as women. That’s why so many male-focused “action” movies always have some kind of buddy-aspect (a “bromance”), as well as the hero’s beautiful but angry girl-friend who just doesn’t get his need to fight evil. But getting back to The intern, this moment struck me as profound because many critics accused the movie, itself, of being a “chick-flick.” Not in so many words perhaps, but the accusation was there nonetheless. 

There are, indeed, moments of sentimentality in The intern, especially toward the end. And, yes, the movie sometimes feels like a chick-flick. But it’s much more than that. It is, in fact, one of my favorite movies of the last ten years or so. It’s also one of the best, most complex performances Robert De Niro has given in decades. 

Part of my appreciation for the film can probably be chalked up to my own personal history. When I first watched it on DVD some years ago, I had, like the older protagonist Ben in the movie, been working for a trendy software consulting company (based out of India, in my case). Many of my workmates were so-called millennials, with very different backgrounds than my own, and I came to have a great appreciation and admiration for their talents and concerns. And, like Ben, I often found them exasperating. 

So, I was probably destined to enjoy a story about a 70-year-old retired corporate soldier, Ben, who takes a job as an intern at The Fit. Obviously, Ben has a lot to learn about the internet and modern technology from his 20-something workmates, but they have even more to learn from him about the work ethic, self-discipline, and good old-fashioned level-headedness. Surprisingly, many of the film’s best jokes have to do with Ben showing his very young male colleagues how to….well…be a man. That is, how to respect women, how to respect themselves, and how to behave with dignity and honor. 

But the heart of the film, naturally, has to do with Ben’s relationship with Jules. When he finds himself assigned to work for her directly as her intern, he is up for the challenge. Jules however sees the whole matter as an enormous pain in the ass, not to mention elder abuse. (She is, ironically, guilty of her own brand of prejudice—ageism.) Of course, Ben soon wins her over with his quiet confidence, shrewd intellect, and limitless wisdom on matters both corporate and personal. (Not to mention his burglary skills.)

One of my favorite scenes is when Jules is working late and Ben, being an old school company man, refuses to go home until the boss does. The two workaholics share a pizza, and Ben prevails that he worked in the very same building where the fit has its headquarters for forty years. Jules is understandably impressed and even a little moved. One senses that this might be  the first time that she has contemplated what an entire lifetime in business might look like, and where she might end up. The scene really works because of the way de Niro gradually reveals this information to her. He brilliantly conveys how much admiration—and even love, of a sort—that Ben feels for her. After all, she’s a lot like him.  She is him—the modern version of him. A driven entrepreneur and gifted business person who will do anything to make her vision a reality. 

In some ways, The Intern, is nothing less than a celebration of old school capitalism. What capitalism, at its best, can be, and what it can do for both individuals and communities. Jules’s company, The Fit, is a community of hard-working, like-minded people, all doing their best for a shared goal. Never mind the fact that most of them are millennials. The ideal of American Business remains the same. 

More importantly, though, The Intern is just a damned funny movie. The acting is uniformly excellent from both young and old players. Hathaway, in particular, radiates so much old-Hollywood grit and charm that she sometimes feels like the new Katherine Hepburn.

The Intern is streaming right now on Netflix. Check it out….

Book Talk – “The Dispossessed”, Part 1!

In this latest episode of our on-going YouTube series, Read a Classic Novel…Together!, Margaret and I go over the first half of The Dispossessed, Ursula K. Le Guin’s classic literary science fiction novel. We also address other topics such as was Communism doomed from the start, are flashbacks overused in fiction, and do New York City rats constitute their own, separate species?

Check it out!

Friday Night Rock-Out – “Verb: That’s What’s Happening”

I thought I would use this Fourth of July 2025 installment of my Friday Night Rock-Out series to celebrate one of the greatest triumphs of enlightened American capitalism: Schoolhouse Rock! The brainchild of ABC executive David McCall, the series ran on Saturday mornings during cartoon-time and was seen, enjoyed, and effortlessly memorized by millions of America kids, myself included. Even kids today will be somewhat familiar with the series—mainly because their Baby-Boomer and Gen-X parents made them watch it on DVD!

My favorite episode is Verb: That’s What Happening, which was performed with great soul by Zachary Sanders, along with a little help from The Pointer Sisters (allegedly). After fifty-odd years, it still hits.

Rock on….