A New Author Worth Your Time

When were you last blown away by a debut novel? 

Weeping through the final paragraph, I couldn't readily recall the last time a debut novel hit me as hard as J. Ryan Stradal's Kitchens of the Great Midwest (2015). Consequently, I then did what any self-respecting bookworm and compulsive chronicler would do. I scoured my book journals. In the end, my rewind took me back to 2016 when Leif Enger's debut Peace Like a River (2001) had a similar effect on me, albeit for entirely different reasons.

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Be Jubilant, My Feet

Stradal's debut is hilarious, moving, and wise in equal measure. Moreover, his architecture is thrilling but completely submerged until the denouement, one of the strongest final chapters I've read in recent memory. And the prose? Exquisite, end-to-end, if you can stop laughing long enough to pay close attention. 

"The three women walked into a punishingly hot wooden building that smelled something like hay, dirt, and excrement being burned in an oven."   

I freely admit a novel called Kitchens of the Great Midwest would have normally not enticed me, even a little. The subject matter telegraphed by the title alone would have rendered a library drive-by improbable. Shallow of me, I know, but there it is. The sole reason I read this book was because a trusted reader who came into my life in early 2024 recommended it to me. If you're a reader, how great is it having people like this in your life?   

Showing Up

A good friend of mine often used to say that half the battle in life was about "showing up". After almost fourteen consecutive years of blogging, I have a slightly better understanding what she meant by that.

Between 10-12 times each month, I show up in this virtual world via publishing a post. Some days I'm less confident about what I publish than on other days. But I continue to hold myself accountable for showing up in the virtual world, regardless. This is not always easy for a few reasons.

First is that nasty inner critic mentioned here on numerous occasions. Equally vexing is the challenge of being reasonably certain I'm saying at least one thing in each post that is really mine. Anyone even remotely familiar with this blog knows how much I enjoy reading. When writing here - unlike my private journal where I can plagiarize to my heart's content - I'm hyper-conscious about claiming only what is truly mine as mine. As recently as two nights ago, while re-reading Emerson's essay Self-Reliance for perhaps the hundredth time, several ideas I had jotted down in my notebook for use in near-future blog posts went out the window. In that moment, those ideas struck me as being far too close to what Emerson had already covered.   

The final reason that showing up - even in the virtual world - can sometimes be difficult is even more basic. What difference would it make if I didn't show up? No difference I guess, except my own sense of being in the world.

Percival Everett

How is it that Percival Everett escaped my vigilant reading radar until recently? What recent reading discovery of yours compares to my astonishment with this man's talent?  

Soon after recovering from the experience of reading Erasure (2001) some weeks back, I made sure to do some basic research on Everett. I'm still unsure why I didn't do this soon after being blown away by James (2024) last fall. Erasure is wildly dissimilar in style, subject matter, and setting, but an equal to James in scope and skill. And whenever back-to-back books by someone new to me have an effect this profound, I'm compelled to know about the author. 

Prior to Erasure, Everett published eleven novels, beginning in 1983. Then he published eleven more in between that earlier gem and James. Add to that at least four books of short stories, six volumes of poetry, a children's book, and more. How did I miss an author this talented and prolific for this long? Considering the number of books released each year, I suppose I should be satisfied knowing a small fraction of the names of published authors. Still, now that I am aware of Everett, some serious catch-up is on the way.    

If you saw American Fiction - a 2023 Academy Award Nominee for best picture - you've already had your first taste of Everett's gift. That excellent, provocative film is based on Erasure and the screenplay closely adheres to the novel. I had some trouble dislodging Jeffrey Wright's expressive face from my mind's eye while reading, especially because Wright portrayed Thelonious "Monk" Ellison in the movie. Monk is both protagonist and first-person voice in Erasure. But "seeing" Wright as I read did not interfere with my immersion in Monk's plight. If you've read more Everett than I - not a tall order - I'm interested to know what you'd recommend I tackle next. I'm a little chastened to admit not one book from his robust catalog rings even a faint bell for me. What gives?  

Reflections From The Bell Curve: James     

Acknowledging Others

In recent memory, I can't recall having had two peak days as close together as this past Sunday and Tuesday. And though it's unsurprising both days involved interactions with people important to me, the lack of surprise brings with it no less joy.

Sunday's interaction with my daughter was shorter in duration because we met in the midst of her shooting a commercial; her schedule was tight. But just those two hours with her reminded me how proud I am of the person she has become. On the train ride home from New York, I filled several pages in my journal musing about my gratitude for her and what she continually brings to my life.

www.beyonddiversity.org

On Tuesday, I flew to Dallas with a friend I've worked with on and off for thirty-five years, someone I've mentioned here a few times since the 2011 inception of my blog. Beginning with when I picked him up for our drive to the airport at 3:45 a.m., we were side-by-side for all but about three hours until 8:00 p.m. Without exception, every conversation - in the car, on the plane, en route to our hotel, preparing for the workshop we did in the late afternoon, de-briefing following the workshop, over dinner - was stimulating, effortless, and intimate. 

I'm a fortunate person in many ways. These past five days have fortified my belief that the greatest fortune in my life is directly connected to the people in it. In my view, acknowledging people who are important to us can never be overdone. Who are some of those people in your life? When did you last acknowledge how important they are to you? What was your most recent peak experience with one or more of them? 

Better Off Without Them

How about we reverse the paradigm this year on President's Day? Although I'm all for celebrating the significant contributions both George & Abe made, why not tell me which two presidents you think we would have been better off without? Just a few guidelines before you nominate your two dodos.

* Confine nominations to the presidents who served in the only two full centuries the nation has lived through so far, i.e., the 19th and the 20th. I know this guideline might annoy some of you because of the serious shenanigans we've already endured in the 21st century. But I'd like this to be more about rear-view mirror history than present-day ranting, even if that ranting is justified. Besides, confining your choices to one president from each full century gives you a lot more possibilities to consider.   

* In the 19th century, neither William Henry Harrison nor James Garfield lived long enough to be fairly judged so leave those two out. 

* However, all the accidental presidents - e.g., John Tyler in the 19th century and Gerald Ford in the 20th - are legitimate candidates for your scorn. Ready for my nominations?

From the 19th century, I nominate Andrew Johnson - one of those accidental guys, BTW - for how quickly he began trying to dismantle pieces of Lincoln's legacy. In addition, Johnson holds the dubious distinction of being our first chief executive to be impeached, although he - like the other two with an asterisk next to their names - escaped being convicted by the Senate. By one vote.  

From the 20th century, I struggled more to make a final selection, especially because I've been around since Harry Truman held the highest job. But in the end, at least for me, Warren G. Harding eased out his serious competitors for someone we would have been better without. There have arguably been more corrupt administrations before and after Harding's, but his stands out for its blatant audacity. 

Why not join me in some harmless historical revisionism? Look at it this way. The only living person's feelings you can hurt are Bill Clinton's. I suspect he's heard worse.   

Talkative? Or ... Garrulous?

Not long ago, I listened to a woman making use of her good vocabulary during a prepared speech she was giving to her peers. I did not feel she was being at all showy. Nevertheless, it did not surprise me when I later over-heard people saying they thought the speaker used too many "...big words..."

Some of you may be familiar with this advice often given to public speakers: "Speak to express, not to impress". This can be a useful guideline. At the same time, I have seen this advice work against people who have a strong and natural command of words both in public speaking situations and otherwise. They sometimes begin second-guessing themselves. Instead of using "garrulous", they stumble to find "talkative". Are they perhaps worried about others thinking they're using "big words" even though both have the same number of syllables? Or, is it possible that speakers who dumb down their good vocabularies are not giving their listeners enough credit? What is your view on this? What are you inclined to do when someone you're not close to uses a word you don't know?

I admire speakers -and authors - who use simple words well. I also love when someone challenges me to be smarter. Consequently, I like when people use words they have naturally at their disposal, even if a word is unfamiliar to me. I'm a big boy and welcome taking responsibility for my own learning.

My Missing Valentine

Why not wait until the holiday to publish a post about my missing Valentine?

Well to begin with, the last time she and I were apart for more than two weeks was in late 1978 when I hitchhiked across country and back. So far, she's been away ten days and there are still ten more to go. Not that I'm keeping track. 

Also, this Friday will be the first time we've been apart on a Valentine's Day since we first celebrated the holiday together in February of 1979. Last year we were in Pretoria on February 14. In 2023, we had dinner at a favorite local restaurant. Not that I pay real close attention to what has happened on past Valentine's Days. 

Did I mention I won't get to hear her thoughts at the discussion at my book club tonight? Over the eight + years the club has been in existence, she's missed perhaps five meetings. Not that I noticed.

So, why not wait to publish this post until the holiday? It's not like she's crossed my mind since she left on February 2nd. On Valentine's Day, I guess I'll have to be satisfied knowing our new grandson is getting the undivided attention of the best person he might ever know, instead of me getting all the attention. It's a hardship, but I'll cope. 

Icing on the Cake

Although learning about history has always appealed to me, until I stopped working full time, reading about it was not a priority. Before 2010, I relied more on film than I did on books to help me augment the little historical knowledge I'd gotten during my school years. I knew film was an inadequate substitute, but leisure hours were limited and the concentration required to finish books of history - especially the longer ones - frequently eluded me. On the top of my pile in the full-time work years were either novels or non-fiction connected to my work or, of course, books about music. 

For the last fifteen years, with respect to books of history, calling myself an intermediate dilettante is, I think, reasonably accurate. However, thanks to the newest book club I've joined - a club that reads only non-fiction - it's now possible I'll get to the advanced dilletante level in Act Three. So far, this club has gone three for three in selecting terrific books of history that I would never have picked on my own. The latest: Valiant Ambition: George Washington, Benedict Arnold, And the Fate of the American Revolution (2016). Why would I not have picked this?

* The excellent author - Nathaniel Philbrick - was unknown to me. That's never a deal-breaker, but when it comes to history, I'm more inclined to return to favorites (Joseph Ellis, Erik Larsen, David McCullough), because I know how their storytelling skills make the history come alive. I'm a little gun-shy picking an unknown historian in a library drive-by because I'm concerned I may give up before finishing. The good news? Philbrick is now someone I'll willingly return to. 

* Because George Washington was the subject of another fantastic book of history I read not long ago - Mr. President (Harlow Giles Unger) - I wouldn't normally return to read another book centering on the same historical figure so soon. But the way Philbrick toggled between Washington and Arnold while delivering this material provided a totally different dimension to our origin story than Unger did in his book. And Philbrick's preface was masterful; he had me from page one.   

This all adds up to an inescapable conclusion, something I suspect some of you may have heard others say. One of the best reasons to join a book club is to be introduced to authors and books unfamiliar to you. Icing on the cake for me: My newest club is focusing on history. Cool. 

Words for the Ages: Line Thirty-Four

"Love is the answer ... for most of the questions in my heart."

I realize Lennon & McCartney may have expressed a similar sentiment more succinctly in the title of their classic hit All You Need Is Love. But for me, the terse lyric above from Better Together - a Jack Johnson tune from 2005 - holds its own alongside all the lyrics I've used here as words for the ages since initiating this series in May 2017. And pardon my hubris but I submit John & Paul would agree the seven additional words Johnson used - vs. their original five - provide a fresh dimension to their thought.

From the start, I made a commitment to resist using any lyricist more than once for this series. Now sometimes, when several months pass between iterations, the treasures of lyricists already used (e.g., Paul Simon, Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne) test my commitment. But before succumbing and repeating someone, I recall how many greats have yet to be represented (e.g., Johnny Mercer, Smokey Robinson, Stephen Sondheim) and return to the task at hand. That task is to continue carefully listening for a terse lyric that stands alone, i.e., does not depend on a rhyme to complete the thought, and that lyric should be able to be easily recalled by an average listener. (FYI, the longest lyric used to date contains twenty words.) Finally, the thought must contain a universal truth that will stand the test of time, i.e., these must be words for the ages. 

Any other nominations from Jack Johnson's catalog? Or how about a nomination of a lyric from one of the three greats mentioned above that I haven't yet used? I'm always listening.  

RIP: 2016-2025

Since no one has ever asked - online or off - why I decided to re-run the post below every February 2nd since 2016 - changing only its title - this inside joke is officially deceased. I'm interring it primarily because dwelling on possible reasons why it generated near radio silence - no one thought it was remotely funny, clever, worth mentioning or, worst of all, no one noticed - is too demoralizing. RIP. 

Considering how many people outside of Punxsutawney ever pay attention, isn't it peculiar that of all the movies ever made about holidays few have come close to being as good as Groundhog Day?  What is your nomination for a holiday film that is the equal of Harold Ramis's goofy 1993 masterpiece?

Although I'm not a big Bill Murray fan, Groundhog Day is on the short list of films I've watched more than once. Of the several priceless bits in the movie, my favorite is probably Sonny & Cher warbling I Got You Babe on the clock radio that awakens Murray's character as he endlessly repeats February 2nd - a brilliant song choice. What alternative tune would you pick as a way to aurally depict a nightmare you can't escape? My top nominations would be either one of those treacly ballads Michael Bolton screamed during his brief but painful popularity or the musical torture inflicted on us by I-get-paid-by-the-sixteenth-note Kenny G.

Musical snarkiness aside, which bit from Groundhog Day plays over and over and over in your mind? And, if you were able to repeat a single day from your life, which one would you choose?

Garth and Me

I've come to accept the fact that occasional thoughts of mortality and being introspective can go hand and hand. Fair warning to readers temperamentally inclined to equate random thoughts of mortality with morbidity: Skip the next three paragraphs. (BTW, same warning applies to those uninterested in bands from the 60s.) 

Upon learning of the recent passing of Garth Hudson - longstanding organist with The Band - it was hard for me to escape a temporary reflection on mortality. Hudson's death triggered this introspective blogger and musician who came of age in the 60s to muse - briefly - on an inescapable reality. 

Garth was the last surviving member of The Band, and though I didn't double/triple check - now that would be morbid - no other seminal, highly influential band that came to prominence in the 60s has yet to lose every founding member. Here's a quick, woefully incomplete, alphabetical list of those bands, i.e., groups in which members played their own instruments, that have at least one founding member alive: The Animals, Beach Boys, Beatles, Buffalo Springfield, Byrds, Chicago, Kinks, Rolling Stones, Santana, Who, Yardbirds. Don't quibble about who I left out or bother mentioning that the Four Tops lost their last surviving founding member last year. First, the Tops didn't play their own instruments. Second, it's beside the point anyway. 

Garth Hudson's passing - at the robust age of eighty-seven, BTW - gives me slight pause. I still have plenty of musical heroes left from the 60s. And an ever-increasingly small number of them still make some good music from time to time. But for me - and all of them - Act Three continues apace, which, of course, is preferable to the alternative. RIP, Garth - you had an impact on my musical life.