Category Archives: Permanent Press

Nothing Serious, by Daniel Klein @ NYJB

Nothing Serious

Over at the New York Journal of Books I describe Daniel Klein’s Nothing Serious as “. . . a rollicking farce . . . a tightly plotted comedic tale with a genuine emotional center and a sharp satirical wit.”

CCLaP Fridays: Isaac: a modern fable, by Ivan Goldman

I review Isaac: a modern fable, by Ivan G. Goldman, in which Lenny, really the Isaac from the Bible, works security for a LA movie mogul and meets Ruth, a struggling academic with an equally troubled past. In this telling, the Biblical Isaac was granted eternal life and youth. He witnesses mankind’s foibles across the centuries, so long as he doesn’t fall in love or land in jail, because then they would discover he’s not like other men. To read the entire review click here.

An Interview with Marc Schuster

What inspired you to write The Singular Exploits of Wonder Mom and Super Girl?

I was working on a paper in graduate school when I started reading a pair of books called The Steel Drug and Cocaine Changes. As the titles suggest, they were about cocaine, and they included case studies of people who had used and abused cocaine. Some of them were very compelling, but due to the nature of the books, the stories were also very fragmentary. With The Singular Exploits of Wonder Mom and Party Girl I wanted to flesh out some of the details in a fictionalized forum, to try to come up with a more fully imagined version of the scraps I had read and started to piece together.

Tell us about your blog, Small Press Reviews, and the appeal of reviewing the works of small presses.

I started Small Press Reviews in November of 2007 after sitting in on a discussion of small presses at a local writers’ conference. One of the speakers was an author named Curtis Smith. I bought his book The Species Crown and loved it. Between his talk and the book, I was sold on small presses. Part of the appeal is that I feel like small press readers and writers share a strong sense of community. I had lunch with a small press author named Christian TeBordo a few weeks ago, and though we’d never really met before—aside from running into each other once or twice when we both taught at Temple University—we found that we shared a common language, so to speak, as we dropped names of small presses we really admire like Featherproof and Atticus Books, as well as small press books we both enjoyed like The Universe in Miniature in Miniature by Patrick Somerville. Being part of the small press scene is a little bit like belonging to an exclusive club, but one that’s—ironically, I guess—open to anyone who’s interested in joining. All you need to do is read a few books and join the conversation.

What’s the premise of Don DeLillo, Jean Baudrillard, and the Consumer Conundrum? What is the “Consumer Conundrum” and how is it reflected in the works of DeLillo, an American novelist, and Baudrillard, a French social theorist?

The book basically looks at the problem of consumerism in the western world. Early in his career, Jean Baudrillard wrote a book called The System of Objects in which he argued that humans have surrounded themselves with commodities which no longer serve any real purpose other than to signal status. This observation in itself is nothing new, but Baudrillard’s argument was that by surrounding ourselves with objects, we’ve taken on the status of objects ourselves—that our sense of self-worth is bound up in the constellations of objects we arrange around ourselves as signs of value. This is a bit of an oversimplification of his argument, but the conundrum I talk about in the book is that of figuring out how to overcome the inertia of commodification, how to stop being objects and, instead, become subjects, become human again. Baudrillard offered a lot of commentary on this predicament over the course of his career and eventually decided that it really couldn’t be done. Don DeLillo, on the other hand offers a more hopeful view of our species’ potential to regain its humanity—through art, though language, through doubting the logic of accumulation that surrounds us. It’s been a long time since I wrote that book. I’m a little fuzzy on the details.

Is there a link between capitalism’s need for gain (profits, acquisition, expansion, accumulation) and an addict’s need for increased dosages just “to maintain”?  (“Wonder Mom” seemed to touch on this indirectly, albeit from the perspective of a Drug Morality Tale.  Audrey’s inevitable crash late in the novel and the global economic cataclysm aren’t too dissimilar.  Or am I reading too much into it?)

No, you’re not reading too much into at all! In fact, a part of me always hoped that readers would draw a similar parallel. Look at the publishing industry, for example. John B. Thompson wrote a book a couple of years ago called Merchants of Culture, and in it he talks about the publishing industry’s need to make 10% more money in any given year than they did in the previous year. That’s why you always see a glut of crappy, gimmicky books just before the holiday season. The publishers are gambling that people who don’t generally read might buy these books as gifts, that they’ll be good for a laugh or will look good on a shelf in someone’s house somewhere. Yet another reason, I suppose, to favor small presses over big conglomerates. The same thing, as you note, happens to Audrey as she continues to fall deeper and deeper into her addiction. She’s hollowing out her soul as she strives for that extra 10% that will help her keep her head above water, at least until she needs her next hit. I always had consumerism in mind when I was working on that book.

Between your novels, your blog, and your teaching, what’s your work schedule like?  Do you ever feel like one area is being neglected while you tend to another?

Hah! Yes! All the time! I teach five courses with an average enrollment of about twenty students each. On any given weekend, I’m grading between forty and sixty papers. I love teaching, but that much grading really takes a toll. Needless to say, I don’t get much time for writing during the school year, but I do try to squeeze it in here and there. On one hand, I wish I had more time to write, but I also wouldn’t want to give up teaching. Not just because of the steady paycheck and benefits, but because I really feel like I come alive in front of a classroom—sharing ideas with students, helping them learn to express their ideas and participate in the wider dialogue not just of academia but of culture at large. Even so, I frequently wish I had more time to write. And blogging? I liken it to punk rock. When I’m working on a novel or an essay or a short story, I’m obsessing over craft and getting the content and form of the piece just right, like Brian Wilson taking months to record “Good Vibrations.” But with blogging, it’s more like the Ramones recording their first album in a day. Get it done, and get it out there. Share it with the world, warts and all.

What projects are you working on these days?

My second novel comes out in May. It’s called The Grievers. I should be getting galley copies this week, so I’ll be proofreading and making notes for any minor changes I want to make before it goes to print. Otherwise, I’m mainly gathering scraps in a notebook and hoping they eventually coalesce into something somewhere down the line.

Who are your favorite authors (novelists and/or academics)?

I like anyone who bridges the gap between “ivory tower” academic discourse and a more down to earth yet intelligent public discourse. There’s a lot in the news lately about the hollowing out of the middle class. I think there’s also been a gutting of the ability to have an intelligent conversation in the United States. At one end, there are academics who speak and write in impenetrable and, frankly, boring prose, and at the other end there’s the bombast and vitriol of the shouting heads on TV and radio, not to mention the histrionics of anyone involved in reality TV. It’s tough for regular people like you and me to have a thoughtful, intelligent, public conversation about the arts or culture or even politics anymore, but it is possible. Authors like Jonathan Lethem and Steve Almond do it in their nonfiction, and a lot of bloggers are doing it, too. Anyone who raises the bar on public discourse is okay in my book.

But if you’re looking for names, I love pretty much everything by Kurt Vonnegut. I was also on a George Saunders kick for a while, hot on the heels of a Chuck Palahniuk kick, a Neil Gaiman kick, and my perennial Philip K. Dick kick. Over the summer, I read Chistopher Moore’s Fool and told all of my friends to read it. More recently, I’ve been reading a lot of short stories. Robin Black’s If I Loved You, I Would Tell You This is amazing, and I really enjoyed Steve Almond’s God Bless America. I also liked Don DeLillo’s The Angel Esmerelda. If I’m not teaching or writing, I’m reading.

What I’m Reading 2012 and Other Business

What I’m Reading 2012

Overview: I’m currently reading five books.  Each poses certain challenges (in some cases, self-imposed challenges) to me as a reader, reviewer, critic, historian, and aesthete.  While New Year’s Resolutions get broken seconds after they’re uttered, these challenges will form an informal backbone to my reading schedule.  As it stands, I want to increase the frequency of my blog posts from bimonthly to weekly.  (The same goes for my other blog, Coffee is for Closers.)  The positive responses from readers has really inspired me to do more.

As you’ll see with these challenges, I want to “raise the bar” with the Driftless Area Review’s content.

The Book: The Brethren: Inside the Supreme Court, by Bob Woodward and Scott Armstrong

The Challenge: Woodward and Armstrong’s book chronicles the Burger Supreme Court from 1969 to 1975.  The Supreme Court decided on many significant cases, including the Pentagon Papers, Roe v Wade, and others.  Reading The Brethren has inspired me to write a multibook, deep-reading-style review, focusing on the Supreme Court.  For this review, I will also read The Nine: Inside the Secret World of the Supreme Court, by Jeffrey Toobin, and Scorpions: The Battles and Triumphs of FDR’s Great Supreme Court Justices, by Noah Feldman.

As a historian, the review will pose a great challenge.  The nice thing about the three titles is how each reflects off each other.  The Brethren follows the decisions of Hugo Black and William O. Douglas, two long-lasting Justices and FDR appointments.  Black died in 1971, paving the way for President Nixon to nominate and appoint William Rehnquist.  The Nine examines the Court during the Dubya Years, including the consequences of Rehnquist’s death, Rehnquist having then been elevated from Justice to Chief Justice.  The three books reveal the slow movement from a liberal to a conservative agenda.  The differing genres will be interesting to evaluate, since Brethren and Nine are works of investigative journalism and Scorpions is popular history.  It should prove to be an interesting project.

The Book: Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, Volume 2, by Karl Marx

The Challenge: Currently back-burnered for more compelling books.  Unfortunately, some sequels are worse than the originals.  Unlike Marx’s first volume, Volume 2 is a slow, tedious, bone-dry work, more akin to an economics textbook.  In addition, Friedrich Engels edited the present volume following Marx’s death.  The work exists as an amalgamation of several of Marx’s notebooks.  While the work presents relevant material on the operations of political economy, it is almost too dull to read.  The challenge will involve trying to read it without falling asleep.

A further challenge involves me writing more essays in my series Essays on Capital.  I want to continue this series, since the first volume presented a rich seam to mine.

The Book: Shadows Walking, by Douglas R. Skopp

The Challenge: Douglas Skopp’s self-published novel is a revelation, a well-written exploration of two doctor’s lives in Nazi Germany.  I will review the novel on its own, but it will become part of a larger project.  This project involves reading three massive, controversial novels about the Third Reich.  Two specifically focus on the Eastern Front: Europe Central, by William Vollmann, and The Kindly Ones, by Jonathan Littell.  The third novel – The Tunnel, by William Gass – is technically a “university novel,” but the subject matter associated with the protagonist feeds into the works of Vollmann, Littell, and Skopp.

The final challenge will be psychological, since these four novels survey the darkest aspects of modern history.

The Book: Citizens: A Chronicle of the French Revolution, by Simon Schama

The Challenge: This is the second history by Simon Schama that I’ve read.  I previously read Rembrandt’s Eyes, his magisterial double biography of Peter Paul Rubens and Rembrandt von Rijk.  As with Rembrandt’s Eyes, Citizens is an epic account, mixing biography, pop culture history, visual culture, politics, foreign policy, and tax law into a compelling page-turner.

French history is a particular enthusiasm of mine.  The challenge will be tempering this enthusiasm with the disinterested eye of a historian and bringing to bear my previous knowledge in French literature, historiography, and pop culture.

Blog Feature Revival

This year will see the revival of blog features on long hiatus.  The first will be the return of The Art of Reviewing.  French theorist Roland Barthes and prolific Gnostic Bardolator Harold Bloom are the first two on the docket.

The limited series 5000 Pages of Kissinger will conclude with my review of Years of Renewal, Kissinger’s final volume of his memoirs.  I have the skeleton of a review in place that I wrote several months ago.  The Arab Spring of 2011 and the nascent Occupy movement have made it a challenge to contextualize Kissinger’s work without seeming immediately outdated.  Both Arab Spring and Occupy have overturned the Nixon-Kissinger paradigm of supporting US-friendly free market dictatorships and absolutist monarchies in the Middle East.  These movements, along with the Tea Party movement and Ron Paul’s Small Government Neo-Isolationism, present opportunities for the government that acts in our name (if you’re a US reader of this blog) to reassess its global strategy, foreign policy interests, and free market cheerleading.

For decades, the Nixon-Kissinger paradigm had operated as a given within the global foreign policy architecture.  That given is no longer true and no longer equipped to deal with the Middle Eastern calls for freedom and the end of economic inequality.  As of this writing, the Arab Spring has become the symbol for freedom and liberation from oppression.  The end-result of these protests and coups is still unwritten.

“The Best 80s Sci Fi and Fantasy Films” will continue with an installment on Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Other Business

While I would like to this blog a major part of my life, creative projects and personal obligations inevitably get in the way.  These include a random assortment of personal and professional business.

I am getting married in early October and planning a wedding is a time-consuming endeavor.

On the reviewing front, I have a small pile of books from the Permanent Press I want to get around to reading.  I also have a couple novels from Archipelago Books I want to read and review.

My job is second shift and a temporary assignment.  Like many, many others who have been displaced, abandoned, or simply eliminated from the free market economy, I have a very real and very pressing goal of achieving full-time employment.  (The kind of employment associated with health benefits and paid time off.)  Working second shift has made it more challenging to post reviews, but with any challenge, it can be overcome.  On that note, if any blog readers like what they see and want to hire me as a writer, I’m all ears.  My contact information is in the Submitting Materials section.

Finally, I am working on the last round of revisions for a science fiction thriller.  I am planning to resubmit it to a small publisher who showed interest in the work.  In my query letter, I described my story as “The Sopranos meet Dune.”  I’m making this creative project a priority, since I am nearly finished with the revisions.  Overall, I have been pleased, since the revisions have strengthened the novel.

After Lyletown, by K.C. Frederick

A game of tennis with a good friend signifies that Alan Ripley has achieved “the good life.”  It is 1988 and Alan works as a Boston area real estate lawyer, has a loving wife working in academia, and a growing son.  The idealistic picture of late twentieth century domestic bliss fractures when Rory Dekker enters Alan’s life.  Alan met Rory twenty years ago as the intense fires of Sixties idealism curdled into resignation and rage.  With Nixon ascendant, Alan and his friends decide to “make a difference.”

Inspired by a seductive ideologue named Lily Culp and aided by a couple ex-cons, the tiny cadre of revolutionaries decide to participate in a heist.  The heist involved raiding a gun store, stealing the weapons, and distributing them to blacks.  It all seemed to make sense, at least on paper.  Then the day Alan should have participated in this nascent revolutionary action, he becomes sick and has to bow out.  The Lyletown Six became the Lyletown Five.  In the resulting melee, one person died, the others fled, and Rory ended up serving hard time.  Now Rory has returned into Alan’s life and Alan doesn’t know why.  Blackmail?  Revenge?  The reunion of friends possesses an ominous tinge.

After Lyletown by K.C. Frederick is a meticulously constructed narrative that Alan and Rory dealing with the consequences from the events of the Sixties.  On the surface, the premise is reminiscent of a thriller.  The novel itself operates on a much smaller, much more psychological level.  It is a novel of interiors.  Much is given over to Alan thinking and rethinking his decisions in the past and calculating the degree of his culpability.  The superficial portrait of the upper middle class real estate lawyer is only part of the picture.  Between the fires of Sixties idealism and thriving in Reagan’s America, Alan suffered one failed marriage and a dead-ended literary career.  He then reinvented himself as a law student, divorced his first wife Martha, and remarrying an attractive literary scholar named Julia.

Because of Rory’s silence in prison, Alan thinks he owes the ex-con something.  This is exacerbated by Alan’s realization that he could have lost everything if Rory chose to expose Alan’s part in the botched heist.  To further complicate matters, Alan chose to not reveal this part of his life to Julia.

What follows is a series of meetings between Alan and Rory.  Alan mired in self-guilt, Rory noticeably vague on his current situation.  Rory says he needs money, but doesn’t elaborate.  Alan, with lawyerly rationalizations, decides best not to ask, since too much knowledge would make him more culpable, especially if Rory’s plans for the money aren’t exactly legal.

Some passages in the novel seem a bit too on-point, like when Alan visits an elderly Polish woman who is his client in an eviction case.  The woman worked for the Polish resistance and lives on a modest pension.  The woman’s work in the resistance seems like an obvious mirror to Alan’s work with the Lyletown Five.  On the other hand, Julia’s father fought in the Second World War but refused to talk about it.  The war left him taciturn and tortured on a deep psychological level.  The omnipresence of war creates these peculiar ripple effects.  Since the story is set in the Late 80s/Early 90s, the reader could project the future for Tommy and how the future War on Terror will effect him.

The novel is an exploration of how war, prison, and affluence effect individuals, told at an unhurried pace.  The writing shimmers with descriptions of Innisfree, the Vermont cabin Julia’s father built, and Boston bars (dive bars and trendy Yuppie havens alike).  Not a narrative of spectacular confrontations but one that builds menace with a slow intensity and allows for the exploration of human interrelationships damaged by bad personal and foreign policy decisions.

The Singular Exploits of Wonder Mom & Party Girl, by Marc Schuster

Audrey Corcoran is unhappy, affected by the vague nameless malaise that creeps into those with thwarted ambitions and unrealized desires.  Audrey works at Eating Out, a “shopper magazine” one usually sees in grocery stores and restaurants.  In this case, the “magazine” – really a glorified press release and advertising delivery device – caters to the businesses on the Golden Mile, a strip of middlebrow chains and franchises.  The Singular Exploits of Wonder Mom & Party Girl chronicles Audrey’s alienation and annoyance at the petty power games and trivialities in her comfortable middle class existence.

Living with her two children, the studious Catherine and the wild Lily, she survives as a divorcee in a Philadelphia suburb.  Her work life is one of false bonhomie and hollow comparisons to “a family”, made by Vic, her sleazy adulterous boss.  The office environment has all the earmarks of a workplace sitcom: the sexy faded Eastern European named Svetlana, the Indian guy named Raj, and the haggard mom named Melinda.  During one of these “family get togethers” at a local restaurant, Svetlana and Melinda goad Audrey into trying cocaine.  Audrey refuses.  This triggers an internal war inside her.  She wants to have fun, but she also has to be the perfect mom for her two children.

Eventually Audrey gives in to her temptations and tries it.  Her gateway is Owen Little, jazz aficionado and owner of Nick’s American Grill.  The occasional thrill becomes more habitual until it becomes an all-encompassing burden, an insatiable beast that has to be fed the stuff or else it will trigger a crash.

Written in the first person, Schuster captures the comical and tragic inherent in the American middle class lifestyle.  Amidst the constant justifications and rationalizations Audrey gives herself to take cocaine just one more time, he balances humor with personal failure.  As a divorcee, it is easy for Audrey to feel like a failure and not the proper role model for her children.  Thus she joins the local school board and then gets appointed on the anti-drug task force.  She meets a comically over-the-top anti-drug motivational speaker/superhero/exercise equipment salesman.  In that meeting, she buys an expensive piece of exercise equipment, recruits said superhero, and realizes she needs to sniff another line of coke along with figure out how to pay for the equipment.  Thus Audrey crosses the line from drug consumer to drug distributor, aided by Melinda.

Schuster gives Audrey an uncanny degree of psychological realism.  Not only is her drug consumption and paranoia handled well, but the coke paranoia exacerbates her middle class attitudes.  The middle class exists less as a concrete socioeconomic cohort than an ingrained perspective akin to the French term bourgeois.  (While many are economically bourgeois, they’d never deign call themselves that term, despite the bourgeois ideology being omnipresent in society.)  One key facet of the middle class attitude is resentment.  In the case of Audrey, it shows up in how she reacts to people outside her tax bracket.  She detests her husband’s new fiancée Chloe, driving her gigantic Escalade and her wealthy parents.  As a drug pusher, she threatens to call the police on a couple of “scummy looking” addicts.  In a fateful encounter on the Silver Mile (a rundown, decrepit section of the suburb yet to be properly gentrified), Audrey and Melinda get some coke in a very sketchy neighborhood.  Alas, poor people are frightening.

One of the beauties of Wonder Mom is Schuster’s non-judgmental attitude towards Audrey.  It is too easy to turn addiction stories into cod-Temperance morality tales.  Audrey is hardly “the weaker sex,” especially since she has to work as a single parent and juggle her work and school duties.  Audrey doesn’t necessarily triumph, but she perseveres.  Cocaine was one way she dealt with her busy life.  America’s schizophrenic attitude towards pleasure and its misguided failed War on Drugs only compounded Audrey’s bad decision.

(Marlise Tkaczuk’s “Wonder Mom” cover is delightful.  It shows Audrey in a makeshift costume holding a spatula, her red hair offset by the vibrant greens and yellows.  A quirky comic book-style cover betrays the comical and tragic tale inside.)

The Double Life of Alfred Buber by David Schmahmann

KUMAR(to Goldstein)Well, if you have the yellow fever tonight, there’s a rocking Asian party over at Princeton tonight.

GOLDSTEIN Man, I have the yellow plague. There’s nothing sexier than a hot Asian chick…or dude for that matter…

Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle (Danny Leiner, 2004), script by Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg

A commodity appears at first sight an extremely obvious, trivial thing.  But its analysis brings out that it is a very strange thing, abounding in metaphysical subtleties and theological niceties.

Capital: A Critique of Political Economy (1867) by Karl Marx

A Woman of Property

David Schmahmann is another lawyer-author who joins the ranks of the Permanent Press.  His second novel, The Double Life of Alfred Buber, can be seen as a Judeo-Anglo-Rhodesian-Thai riff on Vladimir Nabokov’s iconic novel Lolita (1955).  Schmahmann, like Buber, is a product of international personality.  The author is a native South African who practices law in Brookline, Massachusetts.  Alfred Buber is the son of Jewish Communists living in Rhodesia, pariah people living in a pariah state as it were.  (Rhodesia withdrew from the British Commonwealth in 1965 to establish a white-ruled sovereign state.  Unrecognized and justifiably shunned by the world community, it lasted until 1979, when it became Zimbabwe in 1980.)

Alfred Buber grew up in Rhodesia but eventually settled in the United States to work at a prestigious law firm of Henshaw & Potter in Boston.  After many years hard labor at the firm, Buber moves from a small boardinghouse to a white mansion, a veritable marble sarcophagus.  Dissatisfied with wealth and in a rut at work, he decides to take a trip to Thailand.  In a bar called The Star of Love, Buber meets Nok.  With this fateful meeting, this overweight nearly hairless Westerner finds pleasure, relief, and the seeds of his own destruction.

Already one can see the contours of Lolita in the narrative.  Schmahmann elevates the novel from a mere facsimile of Nabokov’s best-known work and makes it his own.  In the same manner, Stevie Ray Vaughn covered the uncoverable “Voodoo Chile (Slight Return)” by Jimi Hendrix.  The unexpected delight arises from Schmahmann’s deft handling of Buber.  He begins as an overdetermined caricature and gradually transforms into a fully formed human being.  Buber’s “yellow plague” becomes less a desire for the flesh than a desperate need for companionship with another person.  His finely calibrated professional persona, the fortress-like mansion, and the complex dissembling finally begin to crack.

Tongue Thai’ed

Western fascination with Asian cultures is nothing new.  As the quote from the pan-ethnic stoner comedy Harold and Kumar explicitly states, human desires know no ethnic boundaries.  Unfortunately, Alfred Buber comes from an older generation and raised in the racially rigid society of Rhodesia, and sees his desires for an Asian woman as something hateful that must be concealed at all costs.  The worst part is not that Nok is Asian as much as she works as a prostitute.

Buber’s descriptions of Thailand are impressionistic and possess the vagueness of fable.  But this should be expected, since he is not a native and everything seems new and odd.  One can compare Buber’s impressions with the razor-sharp descriptions of Sonchai Jitpleecheep, the hero of John Burdett’s crime novel Bangkok 8 (2003).  Buber is a foreigner, a farangBangkok 8 plays like a great companion piece to Alfred Buber, since both are told in first person and Burdett’s crime novel goes into amazing depth about the Bangkok prostitution industry, as multilayered and economically vital as any other sector.

Alfred Buber’s love for Nok develops to the point where he wants her to be his bride.  The economics of prostitution and marriage collide and commingle in a series of scenes with Buber interacting with the Nok’s family and villagers.  Buber, ever the public traditionalist, negotiates with Nok’s father for her bride-price.  (It is ironic how “traditional marriage” advocates fail to mention how the earliest traditional marriages were both arranged and saw woman as property.  Then again, who can rationally discuss anything with someone possessed by Gay Panic?)  In both cases, prostitution and marriage, women are commodified.  Buber, the son of Communists, teases out the “metaphysical subtleties and theological niceties” of the situation.

Nabokov Blues

From the plot to the quality of the writing, comparing Schmahmann to Nabokov is inevitable.  In this case, it is entirely justified.  Anthony Burgess wrote about Nabokov in his book-length review of literature, The Novel Now (1967).  (Burgess also shares with Nabokov, at least with American readers, the notoriety of being known for only one book, despite being prolific.)  Burgess writes that Nabokov is both “pedantic and cosmopolitan” who writes in “the involved, dense, witty, learned, allusive English that disappointed the smut-hound readers of Lolita.”

Buber shares the trait many Nabokovian characters share, finding “the only alternative to perversity, with its magical and terrible privileges, is banality.”  One can see this in Alfred Buber, his near-reverential desires for Nok contrasted with the artifice of propriety and decency.  (Side question: Why do we yearn for our financial betters to be so utterly boring?  And why do we feign outrage when they aren’t?  The hypocrisy cuts both ways.)

An example of Buber at his most tender is in order.  Here Buber describes Nok with a tenderness and joy one usually doesn’t associate with clients of prostitutes:

Buber holds her narrow brown foot in the air as she lies on the bed under a single sheet, traces the curve of her calf with his finger.  What is it, what, I obsess, about this slender curve, this smooth brown muscle, that holds me so entranced?  It cannot be lust alone.  I have had her, recently, cannot penetrate her again and grab any pleasure further pleasure in it, and yet this curve, this calf, holds me still, dominates me, entrances me beyond description.  Or the hardness of the back of her thigh, the very fine, almost impenetrable follicles that give texture to her skin.  I run a finger there and I want it too, endlessly, for myself.  I have her, for a pittance, for today, for tomorrow, for a week or a month if I choose, and yet that is not enough. (Italics in original)

It goes on like this, alternating between an almost detached and clinical sexuality and a lush, overheated sensuality of a Baudelairean prose poem.  The passage convinced this reviewer that the novel was no simple copy of Lolita, but a worthy book in its own right.

While Nabokov is most famous for his book about the pedophile and Burgess is most famous for his book about gangs that speak strange, both writers produced a large multifaceted oeuvre.  Only reading those two books by these titans of literature does a disservice to the reader.  The same goes for David Schmahmann.  While he only has two novels to his name right now, one can only hope he, like Burgess and Nabokov, is capable of so much more.  Nabokov wrote a novel-length poem with academic commentary (Pale Fire), satires of totalitarianism (Invitation to a Beheading), and alternate history erotica (Ada, or Ardor), among many, many other volumes.  And that’s just his fiction.  This reviewer hopes David Schmahmann can be as prolific and imaginative as Nabokov, but hopefully get beyond the great author’s shadow.  It is still early in his career and this reviewer anticipates much from this gifted South African born lawyer.

Black Swan: A Sam Acquillo Hamptons Mystery (Book 5) by Chris Knopf

Chris Knopf begins Black Swan with an epic set piece.  During a ferocious October storm off the coast of Long Island, Sam Acquillo pilots the Carpe Mañana to safety with the help of his companion Amanda Anselma.  His dog, the ever faithful and frisky Eddie Van Halen lays below decks, asleep in medicated bliss, avoiding the dangers of the open seas.  The craft eventually gets piloted to Fishers Island, New York, a bizarre socioeconomic enclave on Long Island, home to Old Money and a xenophobic underclass.  (Chris Knopf visited the theme of natural disasters and social friction in Elysiana, a novel populated with eccentrics, also set on Long Island.)

Sam moors the Carpe Mañana on the property of the Black Swan, a dilapidated hotel owned by a former software guru, Christian Fey, and his two children, Anika and Axel.  A murder and an impending hurricane throw the novel into high gear.  Sam tries to figure out who committed the crime as law enforcement officials get attacked on the largely unpopulated island.

Knopf succeeds in creating a crackerjack ensemble cast.  Despite this being the fifth novel in the series, the allusions and clues as to what happened before in Sam Acquillo’s life remain clear enough to not impede on the action and suspense.  I am an avid fan of Andrew Vachss’s Burke series and enjoyed getting introduced to another ensemble of characters.  The witty banter between Sam and Amanda reminded me of the quippy repartee of Keith and Veronica Mars on the TV series of the same name.  Sam is a complex character, a wonderful balance between brains and brawn.  A graduate of MIT, he worked on computer systems on offshore oilrigs, and spent time as a boxer.  He currently spends time as a carpenter and chauffeuring the sailboat of a wealthy benefactor to Connecticut.  That was the plan before the storm blew them off course.  Amanda is supposedly a real estate mogul but spends her time as the Nora to her Nick Charles.  And like Nick Charles, or, in the parlance of our time, the Dude, there isn’t a vodka on the rocks Sam doesn’t like.

Knopf mixes together seamless plotting, compelling characters, and literary bravado in a potent cocktail.  The smartassery of Sam Acquillo shines through in his dialogue with other characters and his perceptiveness.  The crux of the story rests on the Fey family and Subversive Technologies with its upcoming release of N-Spock 5.0, a game-changing analytical software.  There’s only one problem: every time Subversive tries to run N-Spock 5.0, the program crashes.  With investor money on the line, Subversive Technologies seeks to take matters into their own hands.  This includes sending mercenaries to “persuade” Axel Fey to fix the program, since they assume he wrote it.  Years ago, Axel and Anika played around the Subversive offices because of their father’s work.  Black Swan is the name of the rundown hotel, but it is also a term for a paradigm-shifting event.  N-Spock 5.0 is a black swan with its potential next generation capabilities.  It is something that will change the landscape of computing forever, if Subversive could only get it to work.

In one passage, Sam is piloting a dinghy through a hurricane.  The result is this surprising passage:

     A hurricane isn’t weather, it’s a thing.  A monster that invades, ravishes, then moves along.  It doesn’t care what it does to you, nor to itself, as it dies in soggy exhaustion deep in the mainland, or frozen to death in the North Atlantic.  All it knows how to do is feast on warm water, curl into itself like a cobra, gather speed and strength to better lay waste all within its swirl.  It’s a hungry thing, an indiscriminate beast, blind and relentless and ultimately doomed, but impossible to ignore, foolish to deny.

Describing the amorality, destructiveness, and power of the hurricane read like a passage one finds in the philosophical writings of D.A.F. de Sade.

The occasional passages of polished description raise the story above the garden-variety crime thriller that floods the market.  Black Swan spins a tightly plotted thrill ride around beautiful writing and characters you end up caring about even after the story ends.

Expiration Date by Sherril Jaffe

Following what is presumably a supernatural vision, Flora believes she will die.  What follows is Sherril Jaffe’s novel entitled Expiration Date.  Flora finds herself in the Heavenly Court where a verdict is passed.  She will die in twenty-five years.  At the time the announcement is made, Flora is pregnant.  The novel follows Flora’s impending date with doom, alternating chapters with her life and that of her mother, Muriel.

Muriel stands in opposition to her daughter’s predetermined death by avoiding a life in a nursing home outside San Francisco.  She takes up with a taciturn gentleman named Wilbur, a former pilot who flew missions in Vietnam.  Together, they travel from state to state on the bridge circuit.  Flora frets about death and listens to the stories her husband, Jonah, a rabbi, tells her.

While the premise is fascinating, the execution remained disappointing.  The prose felt inert and the characters remained thin and narratively undernourished.  When Flora thinks about death, we find her with her husband as he attends to the pastoral needs of the sick and dying.  In the novel, it reeked of authorial obviousness.  It lacked subtlety and came across as a character doing too much navel-gazing.  Another irking development involved Muriel’s affair with Wilbur.  Muriel obsesses about having Wilbur discover her true age, since Wilbur is almost a decade and a half younger than she is.  Unfortunately, Wilbur remains nearly silent throughout the time of their relationship.  Snippets of background appear in places, but he remains a cipher, less a character than a human lawn jockey.

In the end, the novel just ends.  The narrative ramps up anticipation to Flora’s date with death.  What happens afterwards is anticlimactic, the slow deflating of the story into a tedious insignificance.  Jaffe commits the egregious sin novelists should abhor: she made the novel boring.

Self-Referential 100th Post

Nothing like an arbitrary milestone for the blogosphere.

This is the 100th post of the Driftless Area Review.  It’s been a fun experience thus far.  I’ve met new people and started receiving free review copies.  I have enjoyed the works of the Permanent Press and enjoy the publishing philosophy of co-founder Martin Shepard.

For those interested, I will continue my two long term essay series: The Art of Reviewing and Essays on Capital.  I am currently half-way through Capital, Volume 2.  The work presents more of a challenge, since the text is more technical, dry, and math-intensive than the first volume.

Stay tuned for more book reviews, essays, and random cultural musings.