The good people at Shepherd.com invited me to post a “5 best” list on their site. I had a lot of fun with it. Thanks to Ben Shepherd for making this happen.
Here’s my list. Check it out…
https://shepherd.com/best-books/literary-novels-masquerading-as-crime-novels
Back in the 1980s, I took a Humanities class during my freshman year of college. The professor was really good, and she supplemented her lectures by showing up a few episodes of Robert Hughes‘s BBC series Shock of the New, which covered the history of Modern Art as seen through Hughes’s own discerning, sardonic lens.
I remember being struck by how witty and intelligent Hughes seemed as he talked about numerous examples of iconic modern art and architecture. He did exactly what a good critic is supposed to do: open your eyes to meaning and resonance in art that you might have missed, and connections you never would have thought of.
I liked the series so much that I’ve watched it a couple of times since on YouTube, and I recently bought the book that Hughes wrote to accompany it. Hughes really was one the smartest and most interesting art critics of his generation, and he could really write. Take this passage, for instance, about Pablo Picasso’s most famous and disturbing work, Guernica,
Seen detached from its social context, if such a way of seeing were either possible or desirable (in Picasso’s view it would not have been, but there are still formalists who disagree), it is a general meditation on suffering, and its symbols are archaic, not historical: the gored and speared horse (the Spanish Republic), the bull (Franco) louring over the bereaved, shrieking woman, the paraphernalia of pre-modernist images like the broken sword, the surviving flower, and the dove. Apart from the late Cubist style, the only specifically modern elements in Guernica are the Mithraic eye of the electric light, and the suggestion that the horse’s body is made of parallel lines of newsprint, like the newspaper in Picasso’s collages a quarter-century earlier. [emphasis mine]
As I read this passage, I thought to myself: wow. Then I thought to myself: Mithraic? WTF is that? So, naturally, I googled it and discovered that Mithraism was a religious cult in 4th Century C.E. Rome that directly opposed Christianity and was popular with Roman soldiers. I don’t know exactly what sense Hughes was employing the word, but I think he was getting at the idolatrous aspect of Fascism—literally, an ideology opposed to Christ and Christian values—as manifested in the mid-Twentieth Century love of technology and machines. Reading Hughes’s moving and trenchant prose, I was reminded of how Picasso, eighty-seven years before Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer, Picasso painted the most powerful and grotesque indictment of war, and especially high-tech war, ever conceived. (Sadly, it is as relevant now as it was in 1937.)
If you have a chance, you should watch Shock of the New, or any of Hughes’s other series if you can find them. If nothing else, you’ll probably be smitten by his fascinating and highly idiosyncratic rhetorical style, with his strange (theoretically Australian) accent and tendency to punch words harder than Mike Tyson. My wife and I still joke lovingly about the way he pronounced various famous artists: i.e., Pehblo Pehkesso.
He was a treasure, and I miss him.
Big shout-out and many thanks to Jeff Circle for making one of his famous dossiers on me. I had a blast. He’s one of the smartest and funniest guys I’ve met in a long time.
Check it out…
Many thanks to the good people at CrimeReads for giving me a chance to write about one of my favorite topics, the importance of setting in fiction.
When I was in high school back in the early 1980s, Arthur C. Clarke had already been a legend for decades. He was, in fact, one of science fiction’s “Big Three” writers, along with Isaac Asimov and Robert Heinlein. And so, the reprints that Del Rey books released of Clarke’s catalogue were especially clever in their cover art. Created by commercial artist Stanislaw Fernandes, they were minimalist, glossy, and retro (even then). In fact, they were almost art deco in style, somehow managing to suggest the “classic” quality that Clarke’s work had attained. After all, if people already know the author’s name, you don’t really have to “sell” the story itself.
My favorite cover from this line was for Clarke’s best novel, Childhood’s End. I love how it only details two objects: the U.N. building in New York, and the giant flying saucer hovering over it. (This isn’t a spoiler, really, since it happens in the first chapter.)
It’s a very simple cover, yet somehow evocative and beautiful. I especially like the little trident (or is that a pitchfork?) that sits atop the saucer. (I would reveal the significance of this in the story, but that would be a spoiler.)
One can hardly imagine my admiration and delight as I read Alex Kenna’s fine and refreshingly original novel, What Meets the Eye. One thing that sets this book above—far above—the vast majority of mysteries is the symbolic connection it draws between two central characters–a cop-turned-P.I. named Kate Myles, and a brilliant artist named Margot Starling. Kenna sets them up as linked opposites, each a very smart and driven woman struggling to succeed in a dangerous (and largely male-dominated) world. Both are driven by a deep outrage at the injustice they see around them. And both have some dark history.
Ultimately, of course, Kate and Margot are connected in a different way: Margot becomes the victim of a murder, and Kate is hired to find her killer.
Very seldom have I seen a mystery novel that attempts multiple points-of-view, and never with such skill. Kenna bounces back and forth between past and present, giving the reader before-and-after clues as to what, exactly, befell Margo, even as Kate unravels the mystery. It’s a very fresh and compelling technique. I also really enjoyed the surprising and original insights the novel offers about both women’s realms: the art world for Margot, and the law enforcement world for Kate.
But the real triumph of this book, for me, is Kate herself. It’s her book, and she’s a great character. Funny, smart, earthy, and fearless, she gives the reader an unequivocal here to root for. Yes, she’s done some questionable things in her past (she had a bit of an opioid habit), but she’s a devoted mother and a driven seeker of truth. She makes a great, new entry in the cannon of classic private detective heroes.
(Cheapskate’s note: Right now, there is a steal-of-a-deal for this book on Amazon. (No, I don’t get a kick-back. I wish!))
Check it out…
Well, it finally happened—my first novel, Twice the Trouble, is now out in the world.
I gave a short (but probably not short enough!) reading at the Alachua Country library, after which we all retired to the fine Cypress & Grove brewery here in Gainesville for beers and pizza. Not a bad evening, I must say.
Big thanks to my brother Colin and my great friends Cindi Lea, Laura Fitzpatrick, Bill Cellich, Rhonda Reilly and many others for helping make my launch event a success.
In this episode, Ash and Margaret finish-off Jean Rhys’s classic 1967 novel, “Wide Sargasso Sea.” Also, Margaret explains the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope to Ash, while Ash considers how “Wide Sargasso Sea” might have been improved if the main character had known Kung Fu.
Like a lot of people, my first exposure to Walter Mosely was when I saw the 1995 film adaptation of his novel, Devil in a Blue Dress, starring Denzel Washington. It’s a good movie, with fine performances by Washington and Don Cheadle, but it didn’t inspire me to seek out Mosely’s fiction. As far as I knew, he was just another solid mystery writer, one of many whom I hadn’t read.
Sometime later, I bought a copy of The Best American Short Stories and I was surprised to see a story by Mosely among that year’s selections. The story is called “Pet Fly” and it’s a deceptively simple tale of an office grunt (who happens to be black) trying to keep his integrity while working in modern corporate America. I was knocked-out by it. Later still, I stumbled upon an actual novel by Mosely, a science fiction work called The Wave, which turned out to be one of the best novels (sci-fi or otherwise) that I had read in years.
Continue reading “What I’m (Re-)Reading: “Devil in a Blue Dress””
Ash Clifton, Writer 