Did I once meet Laura Lippman and try to mansplain one of her own characters to her?
Yeah, I did. Sort of. But I swear it was an accident!
More on that Did I once meet Laura Lippman and try to mansplain one of her own characters to her?
Yeah, I did. Sort of. But I swear it was an accident!
More on that in a moment…
Here we’ve got a novelist doing a series of essays, and the topics include family, marriage, motherhood, friendships, aging, accomplishments, tragedies, regrets, sexism, and social media. While those subjects are universal, Ms. Lippman’s perspective on them is unique. After all, I don’t think there are that many former reporters turned award winning crime writers who married the guy who created The Wire.
The most impressive thing about this is by focusing in on her specific circumstances Ms. Lippman can then provide insights that apply to a lot of us. For example, her and her husband had become acquainted with chef Anthony Bourdain, and his death was a hard blow for them. People all over the world mourned Bourdain, yet it’s her personal connection to him that leads to a touching examination of not just losing a friend, but also grieving celebrities we never met.
In Game of Crones Ms. Lippman talks about becoming a mother. Obviously, motherhood is something that many women experience, but she had her child in her fifties so she’s outside the traditional model. She fully admits that doing this was maybe the ultimate example of white privilege. Yet by explaining why she chose to do it and how she balances her writing with raising her daughter even as her husband is absent for months at a time as part of his work, she once again highlights something that many people can relate to even if her specific circumstances are different than most people.
That brings up another interesting aspect which is that despite being well off and telling stories about meeting famous people and traveling the world, Ms. Lippman still comes across as down to earth and not an entitled jerk. It helps that she goes into her middle class background, and how she struggled to find work as a low paid reporter at the start of her career while eventually writing her first books in the early mornings before work. There’s a sense of having paid her dues as well as self-awareness and gratitude about how things worked out that make you happy for her instead of jealous. (OK, I was a little jealous when she talks about being friends with several crime writers I admire.)
The thing that struck me most is that even though a large part of this discusses her fears and what she thinks are her shortcomings is just how remarkably self-assured Ms. Lippman comes across. While she can mock herself and find no shortage of flaws with her own character, she’s a woman who set out to become the very person she is now, and she is pretty pleased with the results. She doesn’t think she has all the answers, and she has the same self-doubts that any sane person does. Yet, while she’ll acknowledge them, they don't paralyze her, and she doesn't let herself be stopped by other people's opinions. This gives her a distinct perspective as someone who has thought a lot about what really matters to her, and that's an oddly rare trait.
Despite this confidence the one observation I might have made before I met her is that Ms. Lippman seems overly harsh in her self-criticism. The title essay about being a villainess comes from a story she tells about how she divorced her first husband, who had supported her novel writing from the start, just as she was about to hit the big time as an author. She admits to ruthlessly exploiting what she knew about him during the divorce as well as not being fully honest about her feelings that the marriage was over when they separated. She also goes on at length about her failings as a friend as well as tendency to hold grudges.
I might have once argued these are just the same kind of things that a lot of people struggle with in their lives, and that doesn’t make her a villain. However, it’s thinking that Ms. Lippman was being needlessly hard on herself that led me to the incident in which I found myself mansplaining her own character to her….
I went to the 2019 Bouchercon in Dallas, and one of the authors I was hoping to meet was Ms. Lippman because I’d just finished her two most recent books and absolutely loved them. I saw her and some other writers on panel about unlikable characters, and the lead from Lady in the Lake came up. The book is set in the ‘60s and involves a woman named Maddie suddenly divorcing her husband and leaving her child with him. She finds work as a reporter and begins to dig into the recent murder of a woman. Over the course of the story Maddie shows a streak of ruthless ambition and willingness to screw anybody over to get what she wants.
As I recall, during the panel Ms. Lippman was the only writer to declare that she thought her character was ‘unlikable’. I found that interesting because I had very mixed feelings about Maddie and went back and forth as to whether she was sympathetic or not. Yes, she does questionable things, but she’s also a woman trying to make it on her own in a time when that was even harder than it is today.
After the panel I went to a signing session, and as Ms. Lippman autographed my books, I told her I was a new fan, and how much I loved her writing. She thanked me, and I had happened to catch her a moment when no one else was in line so we started chatting for a moment. I mentioned that I had heard what she said about Maddie on the panel, and that I was a little surprised that her opinion about the character was so much tougher than my own.
She noted a couple of the specific things that Maddie did in the book that she felt weren’t forgivable, and this is where I went off the rails. I wasn’t trying to be the guy who argues with the woman who created the character. I wasn’t trying to argue at all. I was nervous and excited to have the opportunity to talk to Ms. Lippman, and what I was trying to say was that I thought she had done such a great job in making Maddie a real and complex character that despite her flaws, I still felt real empathy for her.
Almost a year later, I can articulate that pretty well as I write this review. What I did in the moment was to come across as insistent that Maddie wasn’t as bad as her creator was saying, and when I realized I was botching it, I panicked. And dear reader, that’s when it happened.
I interrupted Laura Lippman and started talking over her, and it very much sounded like I was saying that she was wrong.
The only saving grace was that I saw the look in her eyes, realized what I was doing, and I managed to shut my big stupid mouth and say, “I’m sorry, please go on.”
She was incredibly polite, and she finished the thought I’d so rudely tried to talk over. Then another fan came up to get her books signed, and so I thanked Ms. Lippman again. Then I fled in shame. I looked for an opportunity to see her again that weekend so that I could apologize, but unfortunately, I never got a chance. Now I had to read her essay Men Explain The Wire To Me with my fingers crossed hoping that there wasn’t a brief mention of the idiot in Dallas who tried to tell her about her own character. *whew*
So that’s why if Laura Lippman declares that she’s a villainess, I’m just going to nod and agree....more
I received a free ARC of this from NetGalley for review.
In this era of Peak TV I subscribe to a couple of streaming options that I could easily spend I received a free ARC of this from NetGalley for review.
In this era of Peak TV I subscribe to a couple of streaming options that I could easily spend a month or so watching non-stop and still not get through the shows on my current watch lists. Meanwhile, my DVR is usually glowing red hot from all the recording it’s doing for the shows airing on the network and cable stations. So what I really didn’t need read right now is a book that makes me want to watch more TV, but I'm still glad I read it.
Television critics Alan Sepinwall and Matt Zoller Seitz started sharing a newspaper column 20 years ago just as a revolution was about to occur that would change the TV landscape. Although they both moved on to other jobs they remained friends and had on-going debates about TV topics which has led them to come up with a list of the all-time best 100 TV shows.
They cheerfully admit that this is a bit of a fool’s errand in that there’s something inherently flawed about comparing a show like All in the Family to The X-Files. However, they came up with a ranking system they both used to score shows on a variety of factors, and then used it to come up with their top 100 which they then explained in more detail in short essays about each one.
They used some basic rules to keep it all somewhat in line: Only American shows that have ended were considered although there are some notable exceptions like The Simpsons and South Park which after decades on the air had enough material to adequately judge. Some shows with uncertain futures, like Louie, were included in case their creators never produce more. No reality TV was considered, and variety, skit, and talk shows were also deemed too hard to compare to scripted dramas and comedies. Longevity was also a factor because a brilliant show that only produced a handful of episodes like Firefly obviously didn’t have the burden of sustaining that level of quality over the course of many seasons so there was handicapping done in the ranking system to account for that.
So after applying math and some logical rules to their exercise what did Sepinwall and Seitz come up with? A bunch of shows that’s pretty much what you’d expect if you pay attention to things like awards, reviews, and critic’s Best-Of lists. It turns out what is generally considered the best TV is still the best TV by their standards, and an unforgiving cynic might think this is merely a clickbait interwebs article taken to book form.
However, what makes this interesting to me as a TV fan isn’t the rankings they gave or what shows did and didn't make the top 100 cut although that’s the kind of thing it’s fun to argue about over a couple of beers. My favorite part was an online conversation they had in which they debated how to rank the 5 top shows that tied in their ranking system. Through the course of that discussion they question how much a show’s innovation mattered vs. just doing something familiar as well as it’s ever been done, whether they had an inherent bias towards thinking of dramas as ‘better’ than comedies, and how to judge a show filled with peaks and valleys against a show that was consistently great but didn’t provide as many next level moments.
It was a fascinating, often funny, conversation between two critics who know their subjects, have the skill and self-awareness to step back and ask themselves just what made these shows so great, and then follow those trains of thoughts to logical conclusions. Good criticism shouldn’t just be about giving a score or a thumbs up/thumbs down. It should make you think about what you like or hate, and why you like or hate it which not only teaches you something about the material but maybe something about yourself in the process. So while I found myself disagreeing with their ultimate conclusion it still gave me a lot of food for thought as well as a desire to go out and watch all of them again.
The rest of the essays do a similarly good job of explaining why those shows were considered among the best while pointing out the flaws. They’ve got a real knack for explaining the appeal of a series and describing what made it special. (If anyone ever asks me what’s so great about Deadwood I’ll probably just have them read their description of it.) There’s also some effort made towards explaining what they meant beyond just being TV shows. For example, the article about I Love Lucy doesn’t just pay homage to it as a groundbreaking comedy, but also outlines how Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz were true innovators whose impact on television from a creative and business standpoint went far beyond even what they did on screen as Lucy and Ricky.
There’s also some bonus features like funny lists about things like the best and worst bosses on television. They also do lists of the best mini-series, TV movies, honorable mentions, and current shows that will probably make the Top 100 list after they complete their runs.
The essays are filled with spoilers to the shows in the interests of discussing them fully, but it should be easy to avoid by skipping over any ones you haven’t seen it yet. Fair warning that the bonus lists do contain some spoilers, particularly one about the best character deaths so maybe skip those if you’re worried about such things.
Taken all together this is a love letter to television written by two guys who appreciate how lucky they were to be in exactly the right place to help document a golden age....more
Lawrence Block is one of those authors that I’ve often wished I could spend some time with just to hear him reminisce about his long career as well asLawrence Block is one of those authors that I’ve often wished I could spend some time with just to hear him reminisce about his long career as well as get his opinions on other crime writers. I haven’t gotten a dinner invitation yet (Although I did get to meet him when he was touring for Hope to Die.), but until that day reading The Crime of Our Lives is a damn fine substitute.
Through this collection of introductions and essays he’s done over the years you get a sense of what Block thinks about the mystery genre as a whole as well as specific things about various writers including some very humorous stories like the time Charles Willeford asked him if he had ever eaten cat.
Some of the more interesting stories come from the early days of his career when Block was working for a shady literary agent where he’d read submissions all day and write up rejections that would encourage the suckers to submit more work for a fee. Block believes that slogging through that much bad fiction was a better education than reading masterpieces of literature because it taught him what not to do rather to admire what most everyone already agreed was great.
The most moving parts come in several things Block wrote about his late friend Donald Westlake. (It’s probably a safe bet that Block was inspired to do this by the similar collection of Westlake material in the posthumously published The Getaway Car. Block also wrote an introduction for it that is reprinted here.) Through the various pieces you get a real sense of the long friendship between the two writers as well as the deep respect that Block holds for his work. There’s also some intriguing musings as to how he thinks Westlake’s career and legacy might have been different if his early book Memory would have been published at the beginning of his career. The story of how Block helped get it into print after Westlake’s death that he relates here shows just how much Block thought of that particular work.
Because there are some different pieces on the same subject, there’s a little bit of repetition, but even that becomes interesting if you pay attention to the different ways that Block can relate the same story. Fans of Block or of the crime genre in general will find a lot of interesting tidbits as well as probably adding a few writers to their To-Read lists.
“No matter where he was headed, Don always drove like he was behind the wheel of the getaway car."
- Abby Adams Westlake
Apparently the late Donald West“No matter where he was headed, Don always drove like he was behind the wheel of the getaway car."
- Abby Adams Westlake
Apparently the late Donald Westlake wrote as fast as he drove. After his big break came in the late ‘50s by getting paid $600 to write a porno, he went on to author over 90 novels under various pseudonyms. He earned three Edgar Awards, an Academy Award nomination for screenplay, and the title of Grand Master from the Mystery Writer’s Association.
He’s probably best known for creating two thieves who couldn't be more different. One was a hard-boiled ruthless anti-hero and all-around son-of-a-bitch named Parker that Westlake published under the pen name of Richard Stark. The other was the luckless John Dortmunder, a sad sack that you couldn’t help but feel sorry for even as you laughed at his comic misadventures. That’s the essence of Westlake to me, that he could have two characters who have exactly the same criminal job yet their personalities and books couldn’t be more different, and I always want to read more stories about both of them.
This book collects a lot of non-fiction odds and ends from Westlake’s papers including letters, an excerpt from an unpublished autobiography, and introductions to various other works. There’s a fun essay he wrote in which he imagines a meeting between himself and his various pen names, and his wife also has a humorous piece on how Westlake’s personality would change when he was writing under one of his aliases. Westlake also had a lot to say on the mystery genre, and there’s one incredible act of bridge burning in a published essay on how he had quit writing sci-fi because the industry was essentially dead from an economic perspective for writers like him.
Taken as a whole, all of these provide a lot of interesting insight into Westlake’s thoughts on writing as both an art and a business as well as how he viewed his own career. And because this is Westlake, it’s got chuckle worthy comments on practically every page even though he remarks at several points that he never considered himself particularly funny and seems highly amused that he was best known under his own name as a comic mystery writer. Lawrence Block makes it a point in his touching introduction to explain that he didn’t think Westlake told jokes, but that he was a witty man who tried very hard to make his writing amusing.
The thing that really stands out is that Westlake hustled. He didn’t sit around waiting for a muse to inspire or him or rewriting a single line over and over. He had bills to pay so he produced constantly. Authors like him who churn out words to make a living often have a pragmatic and workmanlike approach to their writing. That’s a recipe for people with less talent and more cynicism to become hacks. For a writer like Westlake that discipline and craftsmanship made him one of the greats.
I figured a book of essays from mystery writers about Spenser could consist of repeated analysis of why Susan sucks so much, but they took the high roI figured a book of essays from mystery writers about Spenser could consist of repeated analysis of why Susan sucks so much, but they took the high road and covered other subjects, too.
As a long time Spenser fan and fairly vocal critic of Robert B. Parker in his later years, I got a lot out of this. I tend to get wrapped up in the negative, (I know you’re shocked.) so it was good to read writers like Lawrence Block, Loren Estleman, Ace Atkins, Dennis Lehane and others explain just how groundbreaking and influential Spenser was because it reminded me of the many positive aspects of the series.
They bring up things I hadn’t considered, like Spenser was really the first modern tough guy detective where readers didn’t have to overlook racism as in the Philip Marlow books or sexism like Travis McGee regularly dispensed. There’s also several personal and funny stories about the writers interacting with RBP.
I enjoyed getting validation on several things I think about Spenser. For example, Dennis Lehane and I agree about what were the best books of the series. (He also admitted to something I’ve long suspected, his first chapter of A Drink Before the War was a complete rip-off of Parker.)
In addition to discussing Spenser’s place in crime fiction and RBP’s writing, the essays cover a wide variety of Spenser related topics ranging from his sense of humor, his love of food, his friend Hawk, the Spenser For Hire series and more. Plus, S.J. Rozan delivers a write-up that starts, “Ah, Susan Silverman. The girlfriend we all love to hate.” (Although she does go on to point out that while Susan was often irritating, just the notion of Spenser having a steady independent girlfriend was important for the genre.)
There’s even a nice examination of Spenser’s character from RBP himself in the form of a story where the detective is interviewed by an academic doing a paper on people in dangerous professions.
It does seem like there’s a missed opportunity because while many mention the influence of Raymond Chandler and Ross MacDonald on RBP, there’s no essay examining that while there are two about Spenser’s love of gourmet food which seemed a bit much.
The collection is a great tribute to RBP, and a must-read for Spenser fans....more
Leave it to Neal Stephenson to publish a collection of essays that cover everything from office furniture to the metaphysical theories of Gottfried LeLeave it to Neal Stephenson to publish a collection of essays that cover everything from office furniture to the metaphysical theories of Gottfried Leibniz. (I found the office furniture one more enjoyable.)
The thing about Stephenson is that once he gets interested in a subject, he is going to write the shit out of it and leave no idea unexplored. It’s what makes him unique and his skill is usually enough to get the reader to go along for the ride. But even a fan like myself started getting seriously bored with the loooooooooonnnnnnngggggggggg essay that is Stephenson’s account from the ‘90s of following the laying of a new fiber optic cable around the world mixed in with the history of undersea cables and a look at the technical, economic and political factors that go into such a project. There were points where it was interesting and very funny (Stephenson comes up with one of the most creative ways to call someone an asshole that I’ve ever read.), but after a while it’s just too much to absorb.
There was still a lot I liked in this. The stuff he does about science fiction and genre labeling brought up a lot of great points I hadn’t considered. There’s a hilarious bit in answer to the question of who would win in a fight between himself and William Gibson that begins with Stephenson’s assertion that he and Gibson have fought three times and then goes into descriptions of their on-going battles that would make for a pretty good comic book.
Like all of his recent books, Stephenson fans will like it, and people who get bored with his digressions will find plenty to yawn over. ...more
I've lost some respect for Chabon for dedicating an entire essay to why he started carrying a man-purse, or murse as he calls it. However, I still reaI've lost some respect for Chabon for dedicating an entire essay to why he started carrying a man-purse, or murse as he calls it. However, I still really enjoyed this book of his musings on how he became the 'man' he is today and how it influences his behavior as a father, husband, son and brother.
The essays are deceptively simple at first glance, but Chabon uses these stories as jumping off points for bigger ideas. His grumpy-old-man-style complaints about how complicated Legos have gotten turns into a great exploration of his kids' imaginations. Trying to draw a decent version of the Invisible Woman with his kids leads to a short history of how females have been mistreated in comic books and then his feelings about how badly he's failed to create complete female characters in his own writing. A story about briefly meeting David Foster Wallace turns into his thoughts and fears about his wife's struggle with depression.
While some of the stuff is a little darker and melancholy like a section on the ways he thinks he's failing his kids or an essay about how he gained and lost a father figure in his father-in-law with his first failed marriage, it's still an upbeat book with a lot of funny and interesting ideas of what it means to be a man in modern America.
Klosterman's essays make funny and relevant points about pop culture and an aging Gen Xer's reflections on how it impacts our lives. The unique thing Klosterman's essays make funny and relevant points about pop culture and an aging Gen Xer's reflections on how it impacts our lives. The unique thing is that even though he writes about a lot of things that have become cliches to comment on (Star Wars, The Real World, relationships, etc.), he avoids coming across as yet another version of Kevin Smith by noting that they are cliches, and humorously explores why a segment of America became obsessed with them in the first place....more
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