The fiction of despair

No, this is not about Kafka … except in that some days a lot of Americans are feeling like a giant cockroach when they wake up in the morning. But let’s not get off track right from the start. It’s about another kind of fiction born from despair … or at least desperation. 

Let’s start again. I’ve been peeved lately at some of my friends on Facebook for posting “news items” which are obviously thunderingly false. No kidding, right? False stories on the internet? Breaking news: water is wet. 

Let me back up yet again. Confession time: politically (and culturally) I’m a leftie. I mean, way left. I’m a dyed-in-the-wool bleeding heart snowflake woke antifa democratic socialist. If you’re Maga, you may want to leave the room. (Or maybe not. Y’see, I’ve had a semi-epiphany about the Maga movement which might interest you. I’ll get to that later.) So as I’ve said, I’ve been, well, disappointed lately, at my leftie friends (which are about 99% of my friends).

 It started with the news that Stephen Colbert and Rachel Maddow and Jimmy Kimmel were teaming up for a talk/news show, or an entire channel, one that would be a mighty bulwark against the shadow of Trump reaching forth its hand from Mordor. 

“After years of frustration with network pressures and watered-down stories, the trio is reshaping how news is delivered. Maddow’s sharp analysis, Colbert’s fearless satire, and Kimmel’s late-night humor create a dynamic fusion aimed at shaking the media world to its core.” 

Or maybe it was Jon Stewart and AOC teaming up, or Paul McCartney and Dan Rather and Bonnie Raitt. The lineup was fluid as Marvel’s Avengers, but they were all left-wing heroes, coming to the rescue. It was all over Facebook. All untrue. All AI-generated slop. Colbert is not teaming up with Rachel and Jimmy. Taylor Swift and Pope Leo are not on board. Stephen King is staying home. Oprah has no comment. 

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

 Good news!

As I've mentioned before I'm a member of the scion society Crew of the Barque Lone Star, and a contributor to their 2024 collection of pastiches, Mr. Holmes's Neighborhood, which has been available at Barnes&Noble ...

... and is now available on the Crew's website, in a selection of digital formats, for the very reasonable price of FREE. Which is a deal not to be missed.

Especially if you'd like to read my latest Holmesian effort, titled The Sherlock Holmes Appreciation Society, the tale of the first ever Sherlock Holmes fan club, founded by none other than Colonel Sebastian Moran, and headquartered directly across the street from 221B Baker.

Here's a taste:

My dear Inspector Lestrade,

You will not know me, though I feel as if I know you from my friend Dr.

Watson’s stories in The Strand. My name is…well, perhaps it would be wiser to

leave my name out of the affair. Think of me as Mr. Anonymous, although I

suppose you could hunt down my identity if you and it necessary, since for you to

understand my story at all, I must provide you with my address, or rather my

former address—Camden House, London. Which I’m sure you’ll recognize as the

address opposite 221B Baker St.—the establishment of the consulting detective,

Sherlock Holmes. Which, I assume, is why it was chosen as headquarters for the

Sherlock Holmes Appreciation Society.

I have vital information for you. Sherlock Holmes has been murdered. I realize

that seems an impossible statement. But—

This is no good. I’ll have to go back, back to the very beginning. If I don’t

explain fully and in order, you’ll think me mad. I am not a native Londoner. I’m a

Hampshire man, son of a country squire. But the birthright belonged to my elder

brother, so it was the army for me. I joined the Royal Artillery, was commissioned a second lieutenant, and in 1879 I found myself in Afghanistan taking part in the

Battle of Charasiab. On 6 October we were advancing on Kabul when we engaged

a force of Afghan Regulars. It was my baptism by fire...

Plus there's a plethora (say that five times fast) of delicious stories by the other stalwart sailors who comprise the Crew. Dip in!

John Crowley on books

 

“Learning to decipher words had only added to the pleasures of holding spines and turning pages, measuring the journey to the end with a thumb-riffle, poring over frontispieces. Books! Opening with a crackle of old glue, releasing perfume; closing with a solid thump.”

--John Crowley

Book Review: Red Snow in Winter

 

I’m going to set aside my own giant ego today to shine the light on another writer more than worthy of your attention: Max Eastern.

Max and his wife Nancy Bilyeau are both historical novelists (and friends of mine) in New York. The exciting news is that they’ve started their own publishing company, Admiral Road, and the even more exciting news is that they launch their first novel today, Red Snow in Winter. This means you’re in at the beginning. (The beginning is always the finest place to be, because you hold every strand of possibility in your hand, before the Fates start to prune them.)

And yet more exciting is that I got to read it early, and can recommend it to you with bells on.

Max is a lawyer who’s written about history for several magazines, with subjects ranging from Ulysses Grant and Benedict Arnold to Attila the Hun. But the ace up his sleeve for this World War II spy thriller is that his dad was actually an intelligence officer in the war, and passed along his stories. So, although the book is fiction, it has the ring of authenticity.

Without further ado, my review:

Julius Orlinsky thought his war was over, stuck behind a desk at the Pentagon, near the end of of World War II and on the cusp of the Cold War. He’s dead wrong. On his way home from a party, someone takes a shot at him, and suddenly he’s an intelligence man in the dark—and on the run, but whether it’s from Nazis, Reds, Uncle Sam, or a secret society that holds the secrets of all three, he can’t tell, and he’s running out of time to put the pieces of the puzzle together. His war is far from over.

D.C. is a small town getting smaller every moment. Every shadow holds a threat or revelation, but the wartime past is a vast world of lies, half-truths, and misunderstandings in every shade. That’s the world he’ll be forced to revisit if he’s going to survive.

Max Eastern attacks his story with dry aplomb and a stripped-down journalistic surety, yet it’s got more switchbacks than San Francisco’s Lombard Street, and every curve is taken with his foot on the gas. There’s a certain Hitchcockian lunacy to all the twists and turns in this one. It’ll keep you guessing till the last page.

D.C. had to grow up fast during the war years

But don’t take it from me, take it from these fine folks:

“This is a fast-moving, page-turning espionage thriller set just before the end of the war. Highly recommended for anyone who wants to be kept up at night!”

--Deborah Swift, author of The Shadow Network

“Red Snow is a well-paced thriller capturing the paranoia and moral complexity of WWII’s twilight hours. This is spy fiction that respects its readers’ intelligence, offering a nuanced exploration of loyalty, betrayal, and a little romance.”

--Emilya Naymark, author of ‘Behind the Lie’

“I found a great new-to-me author in Max Eastern. I love how he brought his characters to life and made the situations in this novel seem as though they were happening in front of me.”
— Terrie Farley Moran, national bestselling co-author of the Jessica Fletcher ‘Murder She Wrote’ mystery series.

Trust no one

This is one is for lovers of historical novels, thrillers, spy tales, and, yes, romance. It covers all the bases and stuffs all the stockings. You can find it here.

(Audio version of this post available HERE on Youtube.)

You’re still here? Go buy the book.