Saturday, another heat advisory, and who knows if there will be thunderstorms today? There were some yesterday, apparently, but not here. It was a nice day, to be honest. I had my work meeting in the morning, did my at-home work, picked up my medication (I still can’t believe how much it costs) and then returned home where I did some chores around the house and some serious organization. My desk is pristine, uncluttered and lovely to look at–like something out of a magazine shoot for an article about a writer. I also worked on the laundry room some–as well as doing all the bed linens and three loads of clothes (I wish I were making that up). I did a load of dishes that needs putting away so I can put another load into the dishwasher.
I was quite the 1950s housewife yesterday, wasn’t I?
I also felt good for most of the day–rested, not fatigued, cheerful and no mind mush–which I hope is a lovely sign for today. I’m going to order groceries to be delivered so I don’t have to go anywhere today, and keep working on the house while writing here at my oh-so clean desk. I slept really well again last night and feel terrific this morning. The coffee is delicious this morning and I am about to make some toast to go with it. Paul has his trainer and then is going to do the treadmill for a few hours, so I’ll pretty much have the entire afternoon here alone to myself, which will enable me to focus and get a lot done. Yay me! I also intend to spend some time with Megan Abbott’s book this morning, as well as the other books I am currently in the midsts of; I also want to write some more on newsletters and get one–probably the one about Vicki Barr–sent out. I just ordered some groceries, and I’ll order some more from Instacart later on from the Fresh Market, too.
The excitement never stops.
We finished watching Untamed last night, which was very entertaining. Yosemite is beautiful, as always, and there were some shots of great heights and sheer drops that made me squirm a bit. Eric Bana is terrific in the least as a Federal agent for the park who is still grieving the death of his young son and the end of his marriage. I’m an Eric Bana fanboy, and he’s aging incredibly well, too, I might add. It was very interesting, and I also enjoyed the rest of the cast as well, who were terrific in their roles. As I said the other day, it reminded me of visits to the towns outside of Yosemite, where friends were from–Sonora, Coarsegold, Oakhurst–and those friends as well. I’m itching to write about the mountains again–I’d intended to do another Woodbridge novel, but somehow never got around to it, like so many others in the files. I was thinking last night about how I need to prune the books again because I know I won’t live long enough to read all the books in the house…and just realized again that I will never live long enough to write all the books, stories, and essays I have ideas for–let alone the ones I’ve started but never finished. It’s a bit depressing, but it also means I need to be a lot more selective about what I read and what I write–and I need to do more of both.
But in order to do so, I need to finish this and repair to my chair with El Dorado Drive before I start cleaning and organizing before getting cleaned up for the day. Have a lovely Saturday wherever you are, Constant Reader, and stay cool somehow in this massive heat wave developing this weekend. I’ll be here again tomorrow morning, okay?
Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. I slept well again last night–didn’t want to get out from under my pile of blankets this morning, yet again–and we also had an amazing thunderstorm last night. Lightning was very close, the thunder rolled for what seemed like forever, and twice the power fluttered on and off before I went to bed. I had a good day at work yesterday–got a lot done there–and picked up the mail on the way home and there was plenty of it, too. This weather is the return of the system that was supposed to flood us this past weekend; it made a U-turn and basically came back. There’s no flood watch or anything, so it’s not as scary this time around, methinks. I did some chores when I got home before my usual catch-up on the news, and once Paul got home we started watching Untamed. We were on our second episode of the evening when the power blinked out then back on the first time, and it took forever for the wireless server to come back on line–Netflix is always slow to load, too–so we gave up for the evening. We’ll probably finish the show in another night or two, and then will have to find something new to watch again. Huzzah.
I am also still reeling a bit from how much my bi-monthly medication costs (#madness). It’s almost two hundred thousand dollars per year. Granted, that also includes the cost of the injection device that I have to attach to myself every eight weeks (I thought it was four; this is much better on me). It is on its way, and should be arriving sometime Friday at the postal service, so I can pop it into the refrigerator and keep it there until I need it in September. I have to go to the service on Friday anyway; I received the title pages for Double Crossing Van Dine anthology to sign (my co-editors, Donna Andrews and Art Taylor, have already signed them; I’m last to go) for the clothbound edition of the anthology. My story “The Spirit Tree,” is another Alabama story, for the record; yet another return to Corinth County! So one of the things I need to do either tonight or tomorrow morning is sign them.
Apparently I need to watch last night’s episode of South Park? Social media is completely abuzz with clips and general hilarity about this new episode, which targets Dumble-dumb. Something to stream while bonding with my precious Sparky tonight, at any rate. I also need to check my to-do list as well as make a more comprehensive one for the weekend. I have plenty of work to do at home tomorrow, of course, and lots of chores and writing and editing and cleaning to do around that, as always. I am trying to get my email inbox cleaned out, and I also need to do some studying on things. I don’t think I have to sign up for Medicare before I actually retire or stop working, according to what I have read, which is kind of a relief; I’d rather not deal with that frustrating red tape until I actually have to, you know?
Insurance shouldn’t be this crazy and complicated and irritating, frankly.
Neither should life.
I also want to get another newsletter out–either about the recent trend by gymbros to build up a beautiful butt1, or my one about the kids’ series featuring Vicki Barr, (pre-feminist) stewardess! I also owe a gazillion emails…sigh.
And on that note, it’s off to the spice mines with me. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning.
The Temple of Poseidon
So much of a gym trend that Men’s Health published an article about it! ↩︎
Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well–at least so far. Sparky is behaving himself (for now; I am sure he’ll be attacking my ankles and feet at any moment before going to sleep for the rest of the morning on the couch, because that’s just how he rolls, you know?). He got me up before six yesterday morning, which was fine. I managed to tumble out of bed and head to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of ambition; and I got the chores caught up that I had left so that I don’t have to play catch-up this morning. I also finished my Vicki Barr newsletter, but won’t be posting that until after Pride because, for this entire month, my newsletter is all gay all the time! Woo-hoo! I’ve also been picking up new subscribers, which is kind of nice, too–I generally don’t pay much attention to that kind of stuff because it makes me nervous, and I worry about writing for the audience instead of writing what feels right for me at the time–that kind of thinking is anathema for a writer, and it happens much too often for me when I am working on a novel or a short story than I would prefer.
But it was a good, productive day, and we did make it to Costco–we even got out spending less than four hundred, a rarity indeed–and the traffic on the way home wasn’t bad other than the usual occasional stupid white man nonsense. I read some more of Summerhouse, and The Dark on the Other Side, both of which I am enjoying thoroughly (I don’t remember the plot of the reread of the Michaels, so it’s like reading a whole new book), but also fell asleep in my chair after I finished the laundry–not really asleep, actually, but just sitting there kind of staring into space while my mind raced around, and before I knew it, it was seven and time to make dinner. But…I got a lot done around here, I got my work done, and we were able to get in two episodes of Department Q last night, which was lovely. The characters are all so interesting and complex! I think I am watching more for the characters than the cold case (which, to be fair, is interesting) they are working on.
And that’s saying a lot for a crime show, but of course, it’s British, not American.
I am feeling a bit tired and low energy this morning. Sparky the Alarm Kitty let me sleep till quarter past six this morning, which was odd, but my coffee is tasting good. The kitchen is still kind of a wreck–I still have stuff to put away from Costco, the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and reloaded, and the rugs are all messed up–but I can get that all taken care of in a jiffy before retiring to my chair to read some more. LSU plays at 1 in the super regional, and I am going to have some food delivered today from the grocery store so I don’t have to leave the house. We had a marvelous thunderstorm and downpour last night (while the sun was out; it’s very disorienting to have it be so bright in the evening while the walk is covered in water and it sounds like a waterfall outside, the sound of falling water only disrupted by the occasional clap of thunder) but much as I hoped it would last all night, it did not. The heat index for today is forecast to be 105 (!!!!), which is another reason I don’t want to go outside if it can be helped today.
But the first part of my breakfast, already eaten, is making me feel more alert and awake and alive, which is, of course, quite marvelous. I want to write this weekend, too–I have two short stories that I want to finish first drafts of, I need to reread some old manuscripts to get back into writing them, and I need to make another to-do list. I’ve also organized all the short story submission calls I want to submit to–one of the new stories is for a deadline on June 20th, so I need to get moving on that one, for sure; I have something already that might be able to be tweaked and revised to fit, but that requires me sitting with my butt in my desk chair writing, doesn’t it?1
And on that note, the writing and cleaning and organizing (I also cleaned out my inbox and filed some yesterday like a good Gregalicious) isn’t going to do itself, so let me get my bowl of Cheerios, bring this to a close, and head into the spice mines. Have yourself a lovely little Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.
Ballerinos have always fascinated me with what they can do with their incredible bodies. I’d like to write a ballet noir at some point, bec
Which is why I don’t mind getting up early the way I used to; I’ve been able to get so much more done on the weekends not sleeping in, plus it makes it much easier to get back into the swing of getting up early on Monday. Win-win? ↩︎
Yesterday was a decent day. I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked, but I did get the first Pride newsletter out, as well as my review of Murder Takes a Vacation, as well as my future newsletters about James Bond and Vicky Barr. I had groceries delivered, did some chores, but only started my rereads of The Dark on the Other Side by Barbara Michaels and The Mystery of the Haunted Mine, but didn’t crack the spine on Summerhouse. I did feel a trifle tired mentally and physically, so basically just took it easy for the rest of the day. I slept well last night, which felt great, and I am curious to see what this week will bring.
I also remembered an old short story that I couldn’t get to work–the premise was just really “no one could ever be that fucking stupid”–but now? Now I have a much better idea for said premise, because it happens all the time. I am interested in pursuing that story, because the dynamic between the two main characters is something I did enjoy writing, but…like I said, the premise that led to their meeting was kind of too stupid to believe, but technology has advanced enough now that the ‘on-line accident’ is believable now.1
I watched television for most of the day. We finished both The Better Sister (superb, highly recommend) and Big Mouth, which is now over for good, and we’ll need to find something else to watch. We started something called Adults, but after two episodes I am not sold on it. I also had the LSU game on in the evening, while I finished some chores so the Lost Apartment wasn’t a complete disaster area this morning when I came down for coffee, toast, and cereal. (All I have to do is load the dishwasher and turn it on tonight and I’ll be all set.)
I am hoping to get back to writing fiction this week. I want to finish this one short story and then look at some submission calls I’ve bookmarked. I am kind of excited about writing again, and I really need to be getting back to it. As I said, the ideas and creativity are running rampant in my head, and I really need to get those muscles back into shape so I can get back to actually writing my ideas up. The will is there, of course, the question is whether or not my brain and typing fingers will cooperate.
I guess we’ll see.
Well, we get sent home from the office before I could post this; we don’t have water–and without water we can’t operate or see clients (not to mention the bathroom situation) so I get to work at home the rest of this low-energy day, so let’s see how it goes, shall we?
I’ll be back on the morrow….thanks as always for stopping by.
Italian ballerino Roberto Bolle
I do find it interesting that something that would have been so stupid of a mistake to make with technology eight years ago could easily happen today; isn’t that sort of thing supposed to become harder with more tech advances? One would think, at any rate, and it does make you wonder about these “tech geniuses”, doesn’t it? ↩︎
It’s Sunday, which means it’s June, so HAPPY PRIDE MONTH, everyone! Woo-hoo! (Cue the bigots and homophobes: why do they get a whole month when the military doesn’t? Sorry you don’t care enough about the actual military, self-styled “patriots,” to know when Military Appreciation Month is–read a fucking book sometime, okay?)
And by the way, assholes, if y’all didn’t come at us with shame all the fucking time, we wouldn’t need Pride in the first place–and remember, the first one was a riot.
My alarm Sparky let me sleep until just after six this morning, which is actually fine. My new sleep patterns had me awake before he started purring and poking at me; I was actually wondering where he was when I woke up, but I wait until he comes to get me up. Yesterday was a lovely, relaxing day for the most part. I finished reading all three of my books (!), which was delightful (enjoyed them all, too) but created a dilemma for me: I wanted to write newsletters about each book, but does anyone really want to get three newsletters from me in one day, especially when it’s Pride Month and I had intended to spend the month writing about being gay in America, and my sordid gay past? That would be four newsletters in one day, were I to do that, so I am on the horns of a dilemma1 this morning. I think I’ll write them all up and save the extras as drafts for later. I do highly recommend Murder Takes a Vacation by Laura Lippman, and I really enjoyed revisiting Moonraker.
And I plan on writing about all the kids’ series I enjoyed as a kid, so the Vicki Barr entry can be saved for later.
I did some chores yesterday, and was actually writing my newsletter about the new Lippman when our power went out yesterday afternoon. Only for an hour, unlike those poor people who went without for over twenty-four hours the weekend before, and I don’t know what caused it–it was a beautiful sunny yet cool day yesterday here in New Orleans–but I used that time to finish the Vicki Barr and barbecue dinner. Ironically, when I brought the hamburgers in when they were finished, the power came back. I watched some of the French Open, we watched this week’s Murderbot, the season finale of Hacks, and then binged some more of The Better Sister, which is superb. We’ll most likely finish that tonight.
I had already decided to bump queer writers and books up the TBR pile for Pride Month2, so my next new-to-me read is going to be Summerhouse, which Kristopher Zgorski recommended on his blog. My next reread will be The Dark on the Other Side by Barbara Michaels, and my next kid’s mystery reread will by The Mystery of the Haunted Mine, which has remained one of my favorite books from when I was a kid, and I got my copy from the Scholastic Book Fair; amazing that I still have it despite all the moves since then, right?
I feel very rested and relaxed this morning. I am still getting stronger (and more mentally back together) every day, which is terrific; My legs still tire easily, but that just means I need to exercise and walk more. I did doze off in my easy chair for about an hour yesterday–getting up early every day does that to me sometimes–but I also got some chores done, and have more to do today if I don’t get lazy. I have to run make some groceries later this morning–better to do it today than on the way home from work tomorrow, right? It’s so much easier to take I-10 home from work, even if the ramp to 90 and the west bank backs up; it’s still easier than navigating through Tremé and the CBD.
I also watched LSU’s baseball game last night against Dallas Baptist before going to bed, certain they would win, and they did; they are in the regional championship today. GEAUX TIGERS!
I’m still feeling good about things overall, too, which is definitely a good thing. I’ve got my to-do list (some things are ready to be scratched off) to work through, as well as these chores to finish up, so I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a great Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning–keep an eye out for the newsletter, too!
The courtyard of Madame John’s Legacy in the French Quarter
Which also begs the question of what should I make my newsletter thematically in the first place? Do I even need a theme? This is what happens when I stop to think about things, you know, which is why I try not to ever stop to think about things. ↩︎
Making me just as bad as cishet readers, right? “I only read queer books during Pride.” Ah, well, something else for me to deconstruct, right? ↩︎
Well, in excellent news, my insurance did approve my treatment plan, and it looks like it won’t cost me a penny–I finally met my deductible for this year, so everything should be free for the rest of the year, which is terrific. Yesterday wasn’t a good day–I was just as tired as I was on Sunday, didn’t sleep well, and so, well, yeah. Unpleasantness, and exhaustion. My mind was foggy all day (but I managed to get my work done efficiently and correctly), but I was able to function despite being so tired. I did manage to get the dishes done when I got home, and ran the dishwasher, too. It’s nice having a kitchen that is more clean and organized than not, though. I was very tired, as I mentioned, so I also read some of the Vicki Barr’s The Silver Ring Mystery–she always finds mystery on one of her flights, which is kind of fun–and then just kind of chilled for the rest of the evening (Paul was working on a grant) and relaxed.
Stop pushing yourself before you’re ready, Gregalicious.
While it is kind of silly, one of the nice things about being so sick for so long is that I am reminded how many friends I actually do have. So many emails and texts and DMs and calls from so many people really made me feel blessed and lucky–because I am blessed and lucky. Sure, it’s okay to feel down when you’re not well or things don’t go the way you want them to, but I shouldn’t wallow in it, and give into the despair that is all too often a part of my personality (the new medications have made the despair and depression pretty much a thing of the past anyway). Yesterday I received a text message from someone who is very dear to me, just to cheer me up in case I was down. I wasn’t down, just tired, but it did cheer me up and make me feel warm inside. It’s the little things sometimes, isn’t it?
I did manage to get some chores done despite my exhaustion before Paul and I settled in to watch season two of The Last of Us, which I’d forgotten about. We’d only seen the first episode and then I got sick, so I forgot all about it–and how good it actually is. We watched three episodes last night before I had to stop and get things ready for today–and huzzah, I did sleep pretty well last night so I feel rested and like I can get through my first day of seeing clients in over a month today.
We’ll see how that goes, won’t we?
And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Brief today, sorry; just not feeling a lot today but will be back tomorrow.
Monday morning and back to the office with me today. Huzzah? Why not? Yesterday was a low energy day, alas. I didn’t sleep as well Saturday night as I did on Friday, and I think all the shopping and running around depleted all of my batteries and I needed to have a down day to recharge. I also think I overdid it. I don’t feel so great this morning, but it’s my Admin day so I think I can push through and make it. At least there’s a three-day weekend looming on the horizon; and yes, I am going to spend most of it resting, reading, and relaxing. I always get impatient with recovery and try to speed it up, which isn’t very smart. And I’ll have everything delivered; no grocery shopping for me for a while. I am also seeing my doctor Wednesday morning, so I can get some tips on eating and rest and so forth.
I spent most of yesterday in my easy chair, getting caught up on Hacks and The Studio (we also started MurderBot, which is interesting), and I don’t really remember much of last evening–an indication of how tired I was–and I didn’t sleep that great last night, either. Ah, well, these are the challenges that make life interesting.
I had a great ZOOM meeting with my editor yesterday–the book has now been pushed back and will be out in January, sorry, Scotty fans, just a little longer to wait–but I feel a lot more confident that once I am through with this recovery thing I’ll be able to whip it into something I can be proud of and Scotty fans can enjoy. I think my next read–as I try to get my brain unclouded and able to read again–will be a Vicki Barr Stewardess1 kids’ mystery that I’ve not read yet–The Silver Ring Mystery. At least I can use this foggy brain situation to my advantage and get those newsletters about kids’ mysteries done. I may even reread some old Gothics, too–my Kindle is filled with Phyllis A. Whitney and Mary Stewart classics–not to mention all kinds of other things I could reread. There’s also some great history books in there that I can dig into as well. I just never really think about reading on my iPad.
The house is also a mess; I was too tired to do the dishes last night after I made dinner and so left them, hoping I might get to them this morning. But alas and alack, I was much too tired to do so once I was up and so left them for tonight. It doesn’t take much to fill up both sinks, you know, which inevitably makes the kitchen look terrible. I also need to do the floors and the windows, get the filing done, and clean up my workspace. Slowly, slowly, slowly, of course, while taking breaks and resting so I do not wear myself out completely again. I have to swing Uptown to get the mail on the way home tonight–my box grater should be delivered today–and at some point, yes, I need to reorganize the pantry and the cabinets. I’m just going to make a to-do list without a date on it and see how that all goes.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Monday, and I’ll check in with you again later or tomorrow.
I loved kids’ series when I was, well, a kid. I still have fond memories of reading and collecting as many of the books as I could–I still have all my copies–and while of course times have changed, I feel bad for kids today who don’t have the plethora of series to choose from that I did when I was a kid.
Of course, I chose all of them, pretty much.
And while the most popular kids’ series were Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, my favorites were the ones that weren’t as well known, didn’t last as long, and vanished from print during the late 1960’s and through the 1970’s. I always preferred Judy Bolton, Trixie Belden, and Vicki Barr to Nancy Drew; I enjoyed The Three Investigators, Ken Holt, and Rick Brant far more than I liked the Hardy Boys, but you could get Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys books almost anywhere, whereas the others were incredibly hard to find. Our babysitter used to take us to the Goldblatt’s Department Store on 26th Street in Chicago when she went, pulling her buggy behind her (Dad says Mom used to pull me and my sister in hers to the grocery store, but I don’t remember that). Mom would always give my sister and I two dollars each to spend, and I loved going there because in the basement was the kids’ section, and while my sister was looking at dolls or single records (remember 45’s?) I discovered the remainder table, where Goldblatt’s marked down some of the lesser known Grosset & Dunlap/Stratemeyer Syndicate books on a big table, for like thirty-nine cents, which was a big deal because I could get a lot of books at that price. They were all series books I’d never heard of, but they sounded interesting. It was off that table that I got my first Ken Holt. Rick Brant, and Biff Brewster mysteries. The Biff Brewster books weren’t as good as the other two series, but today I want to talk about Rick Brant, and why I loved the series so much.
Rick Brant, being tall for his age, had no trouble making the final connections on his latest invention. He screwed the bell on solidly, then stepped back to view his handiwork.
The doorbell was now in an unusual position. Instead of being at waist level, it had been moved to the inside of the doorframe and placed up high.
It looked fine. A stranger might have to hunt a little before he saw the push button, but he’d find it all right. Rick went inside and threw the switch that would send electricity into the gadget and went to collect the family.
Mrs. Brant was in the kitchen, supervising the supper preparations for the family and the scientists who made their home on Spindrift Island.
Rick sampled the cake frosting in a nearby bowl and invited, “Can you come out on the porch for a minute, Mom? There’s something I want to show you.”
Mrs. Brant looked up from the roast she was seasoning, a twinkle in her eyes.“What is it now, Rick? Another invention?“
“Wait and see,” he said mysteriously. “I’ll go get Dad and Barby.”
And so opens the first Rick Brant Science Adventure. I bought four Rick Brant books that day (The Rocket’s Shadow, The Egyptian Cat Mystery, The Flying Stingaree, and The Flaming Mountain), all of which had some appeal to me. I wasn’t really that much into science or rocket ships, but I did buy the first because it was, well, the first in the series, and OCD Child Greg had to read the first book. I didn’t have to read the series in order–I did try that with the Hardy Boys, but gave up when it was time for Book 4 and the title, The Missing Chums, didn’t excite me so I got one of the later volumes, The Mystery of the Aztec Warrior instead. There was a pyramid on the cover. I’ve always been a sucker for pyramids–but I always felt obligated to eventually get to the first volume of every series. It wasn’t always necessary, but in some cases–The Three Investigators, Trixie Belden, Judy Bolton–they really did set the stage for the rest of the series and it helped to have read the first one.
I’ll be completely honest here, too: I was never good at science. I don’t know why that was, but I just was never good at any of it–biology, chemistry, physics; math and science were my two Achilles heels. I only read a couple of the Tom Swift books, and even those were because one was reissued in paperback and renamed In the Jungle of the Mayas (the Mayans built pyramids!) but I got the impression the Swift books were more about science than a case or a mystery or anything. The Rick Brant series, on the other hand, while having some insane titles (The Electronic Mind Reader, The Wailing Octopus) like all series did, there were also some that were called “mysteries.” So, yes, science, but also mystery.
I also had no idea it was going to become one of my favorite series.
When I first read The Rocket’s Shadow in the late 1960s/early 1970s, it was already significantly dated. Originally published in either 1946 or 1947, the background to the story was that the scientists on Spindrift Island, off the coast of New Jersey, were trying to build a rocket to send to the moon. Several different groups were trying to accomplish this, and whoever succeeds first was going to get a very lucrative government contract…and their efforts are being sabotaged. Rick’s father, Dr. Hartson Brant, is world-renowned, and of course Rick is very interested in science and is always inventing things to either save time or effort, and they aren’t usually very practical, even though they do work. Rick and his younger sister Barby go to school on the mainland–Spindrift is separated from the coast by tidal flats that are underwater during high tide–but everyone on the island is determined that their rocket will succeed and they’ll catch the saboteurs.
Rick soon figures out a clue and gives chase to some of the saboteurs, who turn on him and attack him–only he is rescued by a blond hitchhiker carrying a military duffle. He and Rick run the attackers off, and then Rick brings his new friend, Don Scott–“Scotty”–home with him because he has no place to go. He’s out of the military and has no family, was just wandering the roads to see where he wound up. The close bond between Rick and Scotty1 resonated with me, especially their sense of camaraderie and affection for each other. They had no girlfriends or even any girls who might be potential dates at first (some were introduced in the series later, Barby growing up for Scotty and a new scientist comes to the island and has a teenaged daughter Jan who is sort of an interest for Rick–but the girls are never more important to them than they are to each other.2
Obviously, by the time I got and read the book we were already into the Apollo space programs from NASA, and we landed on the moon in 1969–so all the science in The Rocket’s Shadow was off and wrong–also the rocket got there in like twenty minutes, not possible even now–and as such, the series could never really be updated and revised like the Hardys and Nancy Drew. The Rocket’s Shadow would have had to have been completely rewritten, and I’m not sure how you could introduce Scotty as a hitchhiker/war vet (he lied about his age) today.
I enjoyed all the books in the series. I did eventually get them all over the years and read them, and many of them are dated. High tech walkie-talkies don’t seem so impressive in a cell phone world, and of course, there are some trips to foreign lands (Asia and Pacific Islands) that are probably more than a little racist and dated now. But I loved The Lost City, where they are off to Tibet to set up a radio receiver on the opposite side of the world from Spindrift to triangulate with the rocket on the moon, and they discover a lost city of Mongols and the tomb of Genghis Khan. They also meet, in that book, an Indian youth named Chahda who helps them out and becomes basically a member of the family, and they take him off the streets of Delhi and pay for him to go to school. Chahda was incredible smart and adventurous too–but not sure how he’d hold up under modern scrutiny in these more evolved times.
And maybe when I’m retired I’ll reread the series critically. The books can be found on ebay and second-hand sites; some are available as ebooks, either on Amazon or Project Gutenberg.
I am even now wondering if this character is why I’ve always liked the name Scotty, and have used it repeatedly for characters of my own creation. ↩︎
I do find in also amusing that my parents–so worried about me reading books about girls instead of boys; did they not understand just how homoerotic the relationships between boys in these books were. This amuses me greatly now. ↩︎
I have always loved strong female characters, having cut my reading teeth on Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, Vicki Barr, the Dana Girls, Judy Bolton, and Cherry Ames, just to name a few. As an adult reader of mysteries, two of my favorite series are Elizabeth Peters’ Amelia Peabody series (simply the best) and Donna Andrews’ Meg Langslow series (also a gem of a series); primarily because I love the characters of Amelia and Meg both so very much. They are both fiercely intelligent women with a very dry sense of humor, and are the kind of strong women that everyone around them comes to depend on for support–and droll wit. The death of Dr. Barbara Mertz (who wrote as Peters AND as Barbara Michaels) ended the Peabody series forever, much to my heartbreak; the Meg Langslow series is going strong still, so I am hopeful that I will have years and years of reading pleasure yet to come from Donna.
And then, last year I discovered Mary Russell.
The envelope slapped down onto the desk ten inches from my much-abused eyes, instantly obscuring theblack lines of Hebrew letters that had begun to quiver an hour before. With the shock of the sudden change, my vision stuttered, attempted a valiant rally, then slid into complete rebellion and would not focus at all.
I leant back into my chair with an ill-stifled groan, peeled my wire-rimmed spectacles from my ears and dropped tjem onto the stack of notes, and sat for a long minute with the heels of both hands pressed into my eye sockets.
I was already a fan of Laurie R. King from her brilliant Kate Martinelli series, about a lesbian police detective. (If you’ve not read that series, you need to–it’s one of the best of the last thirty years.) I was reluctant to read the Mary Russell series, as Constant Reader may remember from my previous posts about earlier books in this series; for any number of reasons, but primarily not ever really getting into the Sherlock Holmes/Conan Doyle stories. This shifted and changed when I was asked to contribute a Sherlock story to Narrelle Harris’ The Only One in the World anthology; this required me to go back and do some reading of Doyle, and having worked with Laurie R. King on the MWA board, I decided to give her feminist take on Sherlock a go.
And I have not regretted that decision once.
Mary has stepped up to replace Amelia Peabody as one of my favorite on-going series; I love the character–a strong-minded, fiercely independent woman of no small intelligence who is more than capable of going toe-to-toe with Mr. Holmes. Theirs is, despite the age difference, a true partnership of equals; I love that Holmes, in King’s interpretation of him, isn’t quite so misogynistic or incapable of feeling–which I don’t think I’ve ever seen in a male-written version. I like King’s Holmes; the strong female character who is his equal was the perfect solution to whatever misogynistic issues I may have had with other interpretations. I also love that Russell is also pursuing a life of the mind; her studies into theology at Oxford are not just asides to add color and flavor to the character but are just as important to whom she is as a character as the love interest/relationship with Holmes. As I also have an amateur’s curiosity into the history of Christianity and how the faith changed and developed throughout the centuries following the New Testament stories…how that was shaped and influenced by men with not the purest of motives…is something I’ve always been interested in.
I think the first book that challenged Christian orthodoxy in a fictional form that I read–the first time I became aware of the possibilities that the BIble wasn’t actually the pure word of God and had been edited and revised repeatedly in the centuries since Christ ostensibly lived, died and was resurrected–was, of all things, a book by Irving Wallace called The Word (Wallace isn’t really remembered much today, but he wrote enormous books of great length that were huge bestsellers, and the subject matter and style of the books was essentially that they were very bery long thrillers: The Prize was about the maneuvering to win a Nobel; The Plot was about an international conspiracy to kill JFK; The Second Lady was about a Soviet plan to kidnap the First Lady and replace her with a lookalike who was a Soviet agent; etc etc etc). The premise of The Word is simply that a new testament, a document hidden away for centuries in a monastery in Greece, claims that not only did Jesus not die on the cross but went on to live for many decades, preaching his own ministry and even visiting Rome. This, of course, is a cataclysmic document–it would change everything everyone had ever known and believed…if it is indeed authentic.
I’ve always loved a good thriller with a base in theology, ever since; and A Letter of Mary is just that, even if more of a mystery than a thriller. The role of Mary Magdalen has been questioned a lot in the last few decades–not the least reason of which is Holy Blood Holy Grail–an interesting concept if one that has been proven to based in a falsehood in the times since (or was THAT part of the Vatican’s plot?)–which inevitably led to Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code. I don’t find the idea that the Magdalen was a beloved disciple of Jesus–and that she may have been his favorite–a reach; likewise, there’s nothing I’ve ever seen in the actual New Testament that essentially says she was a prostitute, a “fallen woman.”
This book begins with Russell despairing over her research only to receive a letter that she and Holmes are going to be receiving a visitor–someone they met during their time in the Holy Land some time earlier–glossed over in The Beekeeper’s Apprentice but apparently explored more deeply in O Jerusalem! The visitor, an older heiress of no small means who is fascinated with archaeology and has been funding digs in the Holy Land, presents the pair with a gift as well as an ancient letter, unauthenticated, which is ostensibly a letter from Mary Magdalen some years after the death of Christ, written to a sister as the city of Jerusalem falls under seige by the Romans during the Jewish Wars, around 70 AD, that saw the sack of the city and the start of the diaspora; which makes it very clear that, if authentic, the Magdalen was one of the disciples and heavily involved in the ministry of the Christian church. Their guest returns to London, and is killed when she is stuck by a car the following day. Holmes and Russell sniff around the crime scene and find evidence that the old woman was murdered…but by whom? Why? Is this about the letter from Mary?
King always tells a great story–you never can go wrong with one of her books, really–and the characters are so well-defined, so real, that even if she didn’t tell a great story, you want to read about those characters more, get to know them better, and cheer them on to their successes and sympathize with their failures. Her writing style is also a joy to read; the Mary Russell voice is so different and so clearly distinct from Kate Martinelli that you can’t not marvel at her mastery.
The next book in the series is The Moor, and I am really looking forward to it.
And now it’s the day after the holiday, where Americans ignore all sanity and safety precautions and slam into stores long before sun-up for bargains and to get their Christmas shopping finished. I don’t know if this is actually happening this year or not–I flatly refuse to participate in the nonsense of greedy consumerism (the antithesis of the holiday they intend to celebrate) known as Black Friday; for years, this was the day I drove home to New Orleans from Kentucky. In these pandemic times, I have not bothered to find out what the retailers are planning or planned in terms of safety and so forth; there was no need for me to know, frankly, and at some point today I’ll go to some news sites and see the horrors that transpired for myself.
No thank you.
I finished reading The Hot Rock yesterday, which I enjoyed very much, and then moved on to Night of Camp David, by Fletcher Knebel, which is also interesting. Knebel–I don’t know if anyone else remembers him, but he used to write political thrillers back in the 60’s and 70’s (probably the best known work of his would be Seven Days in May, primarily because it was also made into a film, and the subject–the US and the USSR on the brink of nuclear war–was timely and always in the back of everyone’s mind, right up until the day the USSR collapsed). I’ve never been a big fan of political thrillers, to be honest–political fiction has never really interested me too much, primarily because the reality is too much like fiction as it is, and for another, so much world building to do, even if you simply take the US government and political system as it is and simply graft your story and characters onto it–even if you use the actual history as the history of your new world. Paul and I avoided The West Wing for years for this very reason–why get vested in a fictional world of American politics when the real world is right there in front of you all the time–but we discovered it one day when Bravo used to do the marathons all the time, and went back and watched it from the beginning, and it remains one of our favorite shows of all time.
So, it’s entirely possible I would thoroughly enjoy political thrillers after all–I’ve certainly enjoyed, or at least never minded, when thrillers (like those of Robert Ludlum) brushed up against reality or created their own fictional American political world.
Like I don’t have enough to read already, right?
I was reminded of Knebel and his work back sometime during the past four years, as some website (maybe Crime Reads?) did a piece on this particular book, which had returned to print, and focused on a president who was losing his sanity, and the only person who really was aware is the first term, junior senator from Iowa, whom the president has taken a liking to, and keeps inviting to Camp David for late night conversations where the president tells him his insane, Fascistic intentions for his second term. (Yeah, can’t imagine what triggered the publisher to bring this back into print, can you?) I had never read Knebel back in the day, but reading this piece made me curious, not only about this book but about Knebel in general. The Cynical 70’s Film Festival has also reminded me of the deeply cynical political fictions of the time (I really want to read The Manchurian Candidate)–so many thrillers set in or around politics back in the day–and, of course, conspiracy theories flourished. (The true heyday of the JFK conspiracy theories was clearly the 1970’s.)
All in all, yesterday was a highly enjoyable, relaxing day; today will be more of the same. Sure, I did some cleaning–I cleaned out two of my kitchen cabinets, reorganizing them to make them more functional–and of course i made a turkey roast in the slow cooker, which was quite marvelous. We finished watching season one of Mystery Road, which was quite good, and then moved on to the first three episodes of the HBO MAX series, The Flight Attendant, which was based on a Chris Bohjalian novel, and stars Kaley Cuoco of The Big Bang Theory in the lead. Cuoco is tremendously appealing and quite talented. Working the first class cabin on a flight to Bangkok, she becomes involved with one of her passengers, played by Michiel Huisman, and agrees to go to dinner with him in Bangkok. She blacks out during the evening–she’s an alcoholic and in severe denial about it–and wakes up next to his bloody, dead body (his throat was cut) and has absolutely zero memory of the evening before. It’s an interesting mystery, and as I said, Cuoco is terrific in the lead, and is surrounded by a terrific cast.
There really aren’t enough books–particularly crime thrillers–built around flight crews, frankly. I kept thinking about that last night as I watched; I have a short story in progress about a gay flight attendant called “The White Knuckler”, which I’ve never finished, and it also reminded me of how much I love the Vicki Barr Stewardess mystery series for kids.
So, what’s on the agenda for today? At some point I need to get to the gym, and of course the kitchen is in ruins. I am probably going to clean up the mess in the kitchen this morning, then move onto my easy chair to read some more, and then I am going to write all afternoon before going to the gym. Since we watched all the episodes of The Flight Attendant that are currently available–there won’t be a new one again until Thursday–we’re going to need to find something else to watch tonight to entertain us. Which can sometimes prove challenging, but there are worse things.
Queer and Loathing in America 