I am just starting on The Templar Knight, which is the second book of Jan Guillou’s Crusades Trilogy to be published in English, just this year. The Road to Jerusalem came out maybe two years ago in English. The whole trilogy was first published in Swedish a decade ago and I think it is fascinating, judging from The Road to Jerusalem, that a book so favourable to Medieval Christianity should come from writer such as Guillou.
But maybe his positive view of Christianity will become more negative in the second and third books as the book moves from pagan and primitive (brutal, short) Scandinavia to the Holy Land.
As a stand–alone swashbuckler, Road is excellent. But it is more. In recounting the nurturing, and spiritual and martial training that Arn Magnusson receives at the hands of French monks who have only just established themselves in Sweden of the 12th Century, he provides what I take to be a quite accurate, detailed, (anecdotal rather than systematic) description of the process of Church as civilizer, humanizer and light-bearer.
We see the monks introducing basic sanitation, harnessing of wind and water power, advanced musical forms, literacy and so on. In the schooling of young Arn, we listen in as the precocious youth debates just war theory with his learned abbot.
We see the baneful effects of hard living in a rugged environment on the Swedes’ economic thinking. Why improve sanitation? the nobility wonders. That will simply mean more serfs survive, meaning more mouths to feed. The monks’ idea that more serfs mean more production and more wealth all-round is shown at the beginning of its revolutionary spread into Scandinavia.
From what I have read (most recently, in The Triumph of Reason, by Rodney Stark) this is a a valid depiction of the monastic movement’s impact on Europe: the foundation layers for capitalism, in his telling) Of course, this is a swashbuckler. One of the monks is an ex-Crusader and a master of many weapons. I’m not so sure about how likely such a martial artist would have been in that culture; it seems a more Asian model,a nd a Hollywood Asian model at that. The Crusaders were practical and classist. The knights were heavily-armoured lance- and sword-bearers. Archers were for yeomen who fought on foot and wore little armour. Occasionally a strong leader and wise tactician—Richard the Lionhearted, for example—correctly combined the two elements on the battlefield: but their combination in one and the same person, I’m guessing, was not so common in the West. (However, the Turks and Saracens quite happily employed horse-borne archer/knights and, to fight them, so did the Byzantines).
Guillou interweaves his story of Arn’s upbringing to full knighthood and proficiency at arms with a social history the bloody, vengeful competition for power among rival nobles, in which marriages were arranged for policy and murders justified by the slimmest of moral technicalities.
Arn of course finds himself a love match but (this is a trilogy, after all) it is thwarted by powerful forces. So far.
In all of this the Church appears as a mostly benign, uplifting force. This would be surprising enough these days, but Guillou’s own background makes it doubly so. A left-wing investigative journalist, he exposed a Swedish government domestic spy ring (infiltrating leftwing organizations) and went to jail for a year. Later he was himself exposed as a paid operative of the Soviets; not quite a spy himself. In another series of novels, his hero is a contemporary Swedish special ops agent who counters activities of the Americans.
Any mature Swede who thought the Soviets were his country’s friends and the U.S. its enemies would, on the face of it, seem deeply delusional.
And yet, there is this book suggesting a different way of thinking entirely.
Whether Guillou avoids stereotypes in the Holy Land (which his hero reaches in Book Two) I will let you know. But he does so impressively in The Road to Jerusalem. It is a well-researched, well-written adventure story with the bonus of giving the Church its due.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
The Road to Jerusalem by Jan Guillou
The Road to Jerusalem by Jan Guillou
I am just starting on The Templar Knight, which is the second book of Jan Guillou’s Crusades Trilogy to be published in English, just this year. The Road to Jerusalem came out maybe two years ago in English. The whole trilogy was first published in Swedish a decade ago and I think it is fascinating, judging from the Road to Jerusalem, that a book so favourable to Medieval Christianity should come from writer such as Guillou.
But maybe his positive view of Christianity will become more negative in the second and third books as the book moves from pagan and primitive (brutal, short) Scandinavia to the Holy Land.
As a stand–alone swashbuckler, Road is excellent. But it is more. In recounting the nurturing, and spiritual and martial training that Arn Magnusson receives at the hands of French monks who have only just established themselves in Sweden of the 12th Century, he provides what I take to be a quite accurate, detailed, (anecdotal rather than systematic) description of the process of Church as civilizer, humanizer and light-bearer.
We see the monks introducing basic sanitation, harnessing of wind and water power, advanced musical forms, literacy and so on. In the schooling of young Arn, we listen in as the precocious youth debates just war theory with his learned abbot.
We see the baneful effects of hard living in a rugged environment on the Swedes’ economic thinking. Why improve sanitation? the nobility wonders. That will simply mean more serfs survive, meaning more mouths to feed. The monks’ idea that more serfs mean more production and more wealth all-round is shown at the beginning of its revolutionary spread into Scandinavia.
From what I have read (most recently, in The Triumph of Reason, by Rodney Stark) this is a a valid depiction of the monastic movement’s impact on Europe: the foundation layers for capitalism, in his telling)
Of course, this is a swashbuckler. One of the monks is an ex-Crusader and a master of many weapons. I’m not so sure about how likely such a martial artist would have been in that culture; it seems a more Asian model,a nd a Hollywood Asian model at that. The Crusaders were practical and classist. The knights were heavily-armoured lance- and sword-bearers. Archers were for yeomen who fought on foot and wore little armour. Occasionally a strong leader and wise tactician—Richard the Lionhearted, for example—correctly combined the two elements on the battlefield: but their combination in one and the same person, I’m guessing, was not so common in the West. (However, the Turks and Saracens quite happily employed horse-borne archer/knights and, to fight them, so did the Byzantines).
Guillou interweaves his story of Arn’s upbringing to full knighthood and proficiency at arms with a social history the bloody, vengeful competition for power among rival nobles, in which marriages were arranged for policy and murders justified by the slimmest of moral technicalities.
Arn of course finds himself a love match but (this is a trilogy, after all) it is thwarted by powerful forces. So far.
In all of this the Church appears as a mostly benign, uplifting force. This would be surprising enough these days, but Guillou’s own background makes it doubly so. A left-wing investigative journalist, he exposed a Swedish government domestic spy ring (infiltrating leftwing organizations) and went to jail for a year. Later he was himself exposed as a paid operative of the Soviets; not quite a spy himself. In another series of novels, his hero is a contemporary Swedish special ops agent who counters activities of the Americans.
Any mature Swede who thought the Soviets were his country’s friends and the U.S. its enemies would, on the face of it, seem deeply delusional.
And yet, there is this book suggesting a different way of thinking entirely.
Whether Guillou avoids stereotypes in the Holy Land (which his hero reaches in Book Two) I will let you know. But he does so impressively in the Road to Jerusalem. It is a well-researched, well-written adventure story with the bonus of giving the Church its due.
I am just starting on The Templar Knight, which is the second book of Jan Guillou’s Crusades Trilogy to be published in English, just this year. The Road to Jerusalem came out maybe two years ago in English. The whole trilogy was first published in Swedish a decade ago and I think it is fascinating, judging from the Road to Jerusalem, that a book so favourable to Medieval Christianity should come from writer such as Guillou.
But maybe his positive view of Christianity will become more negative in the second and third books as the book moves from pagan and primitive (brutal, short) Scandinavia to the Holy Land.
As a stand–alone swashbuckler, Road is excellent. But it is more. In recounting the nurturing, and spiritual and martial training that Arn Magnusson receives at the hands of French monks who have only just established themselves in Sweden of the 12th Century, he provides what I take to be a quite accurate, detailed, (anecdotal rather than systematic) description of the process of Church as civilizer, humanizer and light-bearer.
We see the monks introducing basic sanitation, harnessing of wind and water power, advanced musical forms, literacy and so on. In the schooling of young Arn, we listen in as the precocious youth debates just war theory with his learned abbot.
We see the baneful effects of hard living in a rugged environment on the Swedes’ economic thinking. Why improve sanitation? the nobility wonders. That will simply mean more serfs survive, meaning more mouths to feed. The monks’ idea that more serfs mean more production and more wealth all-round is shown at the beginning of its revolutionary spread into Scandinavia.
From what I have read (most recently, in The Triumph of Reason, by Rodney Stark) this is a a valid depiction of the monastic movement’s impact on Europe: the foundation layers for capitalism, in his telling)
Of course, this is a swashbuckler. One of the monks is an ex-Crusader and a master of many weapons. I’m not so sure about how likely such a martial artist would have been in that culture; it seems a more Asian model,a nd a Hollywood Asian model at that. The Crusaders were practical and classist. The knights were heavily-armoured lance- and sword-bearers. Archers were for yeomen who fought on foot and wore little armour. Occasionally a strong leader and wise tactician—Richard the Lionhearted, for example—correctly combined the two elements on the battlefield: but their combination in one and the same person, I’m guessing, was not so common in the West. (However, the Turks and Saracens quite happily employed horse-borne archer/knights and, to fight them, so did the Byzantines).
Guillou interweaves his story of Arn’s upbringing to full knighthood and proficiency at arms with a social history the bloody, vengeful competition for power among rival nobles, in which marriages were arranged for policy and murders justified by the slimmest of moral technicalities.
Arn of course finds himself a love match but (this is a trilogy, after all) it is thwarted by powerful forces. So far.
In all of this the Church appears as a mostly benign, uplifting force. This would be surprising enough these days, but Guillou’s own background makes it doubly so. A left-wing investigative journalist, he exposed a Swedish government domestic spy ring (infiltrating leftwing organizations) and went to jail for a year. Later he was himself exposed as a paid operative of the Soviets; not quite a spy himself. In another series of novels, his hero is a contemporary Swedish special ops agent who counters activities of the Americans.
Any mature Swede who thought the Soviets were his country’s friends and the U.S. its enemies would, on the face of it, seem deeply delusional.
And yet, there is this book suggesting a different way of thinking entirely.
Whether Guillou avoids stereotypes in the Holy Land (which his hero reaches in Book Two) I will let you know. But he does so impressively in the Road to Jerusalem. It is a well-researched, well-written adventure story with the bonus of giving the Church its due.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
P.D. James and Christianity as murder mystery
Here is a piece I wrote originally for a Canadian Anglican newspaper, based on an interview with a professor on the the work of mystery writer PD James. The prof is Catholic but PD James is Anglican.
MURDER mysteries start at the end of the story--with a murder. And so, says Wilfrid Laurier University professor Peter Erb, does Christianity. He believes it is no accident that so many Christians enjoy mystery novels or that Christian writers and Christian themes abound in that genre.
"Christianity is one big murder mystery," said Mr. Erb, a former Mennonite minister whose academic studies into medieval mysticism and his own love of mystery led him into the Roman Catholic church two years ago.
When he gives his presentation on the mystery genre and faith, as he did recently at the University of Victoria, he jokes that he always tries to slip in a few Catholic mystery writers. But the fact is, his favourites, and indeed the best mystery writers, are Anglicans, in fact, High Anglicans such as Kay Charles, D.M. Greenwood and especially P.D. James.
Mr. Erb gave four lectures at the University of Victoria titled "Murder, Manners and Mystery: Presentations of Faith in Contemporary Fiction," funded by an endowment from the diocese of British Columbia, and organized by the university's Centre for Studies in Religion and Society.
The mysteries he focused on, he said, are not those featuring clerical sleuths or even Christian ones, but are written from a traditional Christian world view and explore Christian themes. In particular, the best of them, such as those by P.D. James, deal with what he calls "the Silence of God"--the difficulty many have in believing in a loving God in the face of such faith-boggling inhumanities as Auschwitz and Nagasaki.
According to Mr. Erb, it took about 40 years for mystery writers to address God's silence in the post-Holocaust world.
P.D. James's own response to the problem is essentially Marian, said Mr. Erb. While her ongoing sleuth, Adam Dalgliesh, is male, it is her minor female characters who demonstrate a response to the silence of God in their own understated way, taking their cue, said Mr. Erb, from the Mother of God. "Mary was silent too. Her response to the angel was 'let it be done,' which is a kind of silence," said Mr. Erb. He believes that P.D. James is saying that only her quiet female characters, like Mary, can hear God, because they alone are listening. "The rest of us are talking too much."
For example, Dalgliesh and his subordinates, none of them believers, represent an activist, noisy response to the evil they encounter on the job. Dalgliesh, a poet and the son of a minister, seems more than the others both to be listening some of the time and aware that he has lost something in his abandonment of his parents' faith.
According to Mr. Erb, Christian mystery writers like P.D. James represent an opposing view to that of Sigmund Freud, the pioneer of psychoanalysis who believed all psychological problems to be rooted in the repression of primal sexual urges, like that of men to marry their mothers and kill their fathers. (Freud, argues Mr. Erb, would have people through psychoanalysis eliminate their parents from their psyches--effectively accomplishing Oedipus' crime.
But Christianity--and murder mysteries--"turn Freud on his head" by reconciling past and present, not by erasing the past. "We begin with the murder of Christ and ask who murdered Him and why." In finding that we are the murderers, we reconcile ourselves with God the Father. And mystery sleuths also achieve a kind of reparation by finding the murderer.
Mary, too, turns Freud on his head, believes Mr. Erb. While Freud's great paradigm of sexual repression is the story of Oedipus, who slays his father and weds his mother, Mary becomes, in her faithfulness, "her own child's child," a symbol of humility opposed to Oedipus' pride.
Significantly, many of P.D. James' characters are orphaned. They stand for the modern culture that has been taught to disrespect the past, history, parents, the Church.
Mr. Erb told his audience that a parallel school of mystery writers exists, led by Colin Dexter, author of the Inspector Morse series, which appears to address the silence of God but in reality does so with a closed mind. For Dexter, Ian Pears, and Umberto Eco, there is no answer to the silence of God.
Asked if there was any connection between his own journey of faith and his fascination with the mystery genre, Mr. Erb said that Catholicism held more mystery than Protestantism. "With Catholicism and Christianity, the mystery is infinite. Each mystery you come to understand just leads to more mysteries." Anglicanism, he said, has preserved this mystical tradition.
Steve Weatherbe is a writer in Victoria.
MURDER mysteries start at the end of the story--with a murder. And so, says Wilfrid Laurier University professor Peter Erb, does Christianity. He believes it is no accident that so many Christians enjoy mystery novels or that Christian writers and Christian themes abound in that genre.
"Christianity is one big murder mystery," said Mr. Erb, a former Mennonite minister whose academic studies into medieval mysticism and his own love of mystery led him into the Roman Catholic church two years ago.
When he gives his presentation on the mystery genre and faith, as he did recently at the University of Victoria, he jokes that he always tries to slip in a few Catholic mystery writers. But the fact is, his favourites, and indeed the best mystery writers, are Anglicans, in fact, High Anglicans such as Kay Charles, D.M. Greenwood and especially P.D. James.
Mr. Erb gave four lectures at the University of Victoria titled "Murder, Manners and Mystery: Presentations of Faith in Contemporary Fiction," funded by an endowment from the diocese of British Columbia, and organized by the university's Centre for Studies in Religion and Society.
The mysteries he focused on, he said, are not those featuring clerical sleuths or even Christian ones, but are written from a traditional Christian world view and explore Christian themes. In particular, the best of them, such as those by P.D. James, deal with what he calls "the Silence of God"--the difficulty many have in believing in a loving God in the face of such faith-boggling inhumanities as Auschwitz and Nagasaki.
According to Mr. Erb, it took about 40 years for mystery writers to address God's silence in the post-Holocaust world.
P.D. James's own response to the problem is essentially Marian, said Mr. Erb. While her ongoing sleuth, Adam Dalgliesh, is male, it is her minor female characters who demonstrate a response to the silence of God in their own understated way, taking their cue, said Mr. Erb, from the Mother of God. "Mary was silent too. Her response to the angel was 'let it be done,' which is a kind of silence," said Mr. Erb. He believes that P.D. James is saying that only her quiet female characters, like Mary, can hear God, because they alone are listening. "The rest of us are talking too much."
For example, Dalgliesh and his subordinates, none of them believers, represent an activist, noisy response to the evil they encounter on the job. Dalgliesh, a poet and the son of a minister, seems more than the others both to be listening some of the time and aware that he has lost something in his abandonment of his parents' faith.
According to Mr. Erb, Christian mystery writers like P.D. James represent an opposing view to that of Sigmund Freud, the pioneer of psychoanalysis who believed all psychological problems to be rooted in the repression of primal sexual urges, like that of men to marry their mothers and kill their fathers. (Freud, argues Mr. Erb, would have people through psychoanalysis eliminate their parents from their psyches--effectively accomplishing Oedipus' crime.
But Christianity--and murder mysteries--"turn Freud on his head" by reconciling past and present, not by erasing the past. "We begin with the murder of Christ and ask who murdered Him and why." In finding that we are the murderers, we reconcile ourselves with God the Father. And mystery sleuths also achieve a kind of reparation by finding the murderer.
Mary, too, turns Freud on his head, believes Mr. Erb. While Freud's great paradigm of sexual repression is the story of Oedipus, who slays his father and weds his mother, Mary becomes, in her faithfulness, "her own child's child," a symbol of humility opposed to Oedipus' pride.
Significantly, many of P.D. James' characters are orphaned. They stand for the modern culture that has been taught to disrespect the past, history, parents, the Church.
Mr. Erb told his audience that a parallel school of mystery writers exists, led by Colin Dexter, author of the Inspector Morse series, which appears to address the silence of God but in reality does so with a closed mind. For Dexter, Ian Pears, and Umberto Eco, there is no answer to the silence of God.
Asked if there was any connection between his own journey of faith and his fascination with the mystery genre, Mr. Erb said that Catholicism held more mystery than Protestantism. "With Catholicism and Christianity, the mystery is infinite. Each mystery you come to understand just leads to more mysteries." Anglicanism, he said, has preserved this mystical tradition.
Steve Weatherbe is a writer in Victoria.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Gus Lee and the Chinese in America
I finished my previous blog, about Gus Lee's legal thriller No Physical Evidence saying I liked enough to go looking for more of his stuff. I really enjoy legal procedurals but Lee actually seems to be doing something different and interesting. His books are semi- autobiographical, but in different genres. He was a prosecutor and No Physical Evidence is, I believe, a fictionalized description of a case he prosecuted involving child abuse, but maybe recounts his experiences in a more general way. His first novel, China Boy, deals with childhood and maybe coming of age for a Chinese kid growing up in California in the 60s-70s--I think. I haven't read it yet.
I've just finished Tiger's Tail,, a thriller set in South Korea in the 1970s. Our hero is again a Chinese American, serving as a lawyer in the U.S. military's judge advocate's corps, investigating the disappearance of a fellow officer, but finding much more sinister goings on.
I've just started his second book, which picks up where China Boy lets off, with a fictionalized version of Gus Lee going to West Point, as he did.
I like books which set the protagonist within a community-bureaucracy like the army or the legal system or big company, where he must work out his destiny, which is to be an honorable person.
But being honorable as a Chinese and as a West Point freshman are two different things, and similarly, as a middle officer in the army and as a troubleshooter among enemies in Korea far from his superiors.
As in No physical Evidence, the hero of Tiger's Tail, is wrestling not only with evil people but with personal demons which have destroyed his religious faith.
But the mystery he must solve for the army leads him to a local Korean shaman, to his own mixed Christian-Taoist spiritual upbringing,his own guilt for misdeeds committed in the Vietnam War, and his own spiritual void.There is a romantic subplot that involved being faithful to a doubtful relationship as well.
The action at the level of techno-thriller is hard to follow but the characters are vivid and the revelations about the different cultures--military, Korean and Chinese--are convincing and fascinating.
The clashes of culture are often humorous and the story is always gripping. For me, the spiritual quest of the hero is what makes this book worth blogging about. It is well done, and respectful of all the faiths involved. (Although, there is a stereotypical reference to the Inquisition which indicates little knowledge about that institution.)It's a good read of a different sort from his first book.
Lee also gives workshop on leadership and with his wife has written a book about it and readers of his novels will be unsurprised to see that, for him, ethical behaviour is a major component.
I think the next blog will be about Lee's book on West Point.
I've just finished Tiger's Tail,, a thriller set in South Korea in the 1970s. Our hero is again a Chinese American, serving as a lawyer in the U.S. military's judge advocate's corps, investigating the disappearance of a fellow officer, but finding much more sinister goings on.
I've just started his second book, which picks up where China Boy lets off, with a fictionalized version of Gus Lee going to West Point, as he did.
I like books which set the protagonist within a community-bureaucracy like the army or the legal system or big company, where he must work out his destiny, which is to be an honorable person.
But being honorable as a Chinese and as a West Point freshman are two different things, and similarly, as a middle officer in the army and as a troubleshooter among enemies in Korea far from his superiors.
As in No physical Evidence, the hero of Tiger's Tail, is wrestling not only with evil people but with personal demons which have destroyed his religious faith.
But the mystery he must solve for the army leads him to a local Korean shaman, to his own mixed Christian-Taoist spiritual upbringing,his own guilt for misdeeds committed in the Vietnam War, and his own spiritual void.There is a romantic subplot that involved being faithful to a doubtful relationship as well.
The action at the level of techno-thriller is hard to follow but the characters are vivid and the revelations about the different cultures--military, Korean and Chinese--are convincing and fascinating.
The clashes of culture are often humorous and the story is always gripping. For me, the spiritual quest of the hero is what makes this book worth blogging about. It is well done, and respectful of all the faiths involved. (Although, there is a stereotypical reference to the Inquisition which indicates little knowledge about that institution.)It's a good read of a different sort from his first book.
Lee also gives workshop on leadership and with his wife has written a book about it and readers of his novels will be unsurprised to see that, for him, ethical behaviour is a major component.
I think the next blog will be about Lee's book on West Point.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Gus Lee's brilliant No Physical Evidence
I've just finished "No Physical Evidence" by Gus Lee and I liked it very much. It's the second time I've read it and I'm guessing I liked it the first time too; one of the blessings of a failing middle-aged memory is it gives you (at least) twice as many books to read.
The raison d'etre of this blog is to write about genre fiction with Christian content, and not about the genre of Christian fiction. So how does it measure up?
I can't honestly tell from this one novel whether Lee is a Christian, but it's my blogsite so I am claiming there's enough Christian content for it to be in here. The hero is certainly angry enough at God to have stopped believing in Him by the beginning of the story, but the question of his belief remains unanswered throughout, and many of the significant characters in the book are believers: his Chinese mother; his American wife; and the teenage rape victim whose case he prosecutes. There is no preaching, no discussions of religion, but no cheap shots at religions either. There are plenty of good people whose faith position is unspecified, but, as I said, some good people whose faith is explicit and not incidental to their goodness. It is one of those stories, pretty common in legal fiction for some reason, where the protagonist starts the story in a state of emotional and/or moral collapse, and in the course of pursuing an important case, also deals with his demons.
I like these novels best, where the hero makes some progress internally. Consider in contrast the novels of James Swain, discussed in a previous blog: Swain's heroes go throuch external tribulations but remain somewhat two dimensional and static.
Another element I enjoy that is key to Lee's book is that of politics: both the internal politics of the district attorney's office, and the external politics of an approaching election that affects the district attorney and several judges involved in the rape case.
While the eventual resolution of the rape case seems to depend on quite a bit of luck at the end(as if Lee was rushed for time or space and had to wrap his final plot reversals too quickly), what seems implausible in terms of real life works well dramatically. That is, the acceleration of pace and twist in the final pages, is an excellent way to end a book that is part legal procedural and part thriller.
Which brings up another thing I like about this book: the pacing is sometimes fast, sometimes slow. There were times I could put it down, knowing I had good reading ahead, and times when I couldn't let go.
For those who like courtroom drama (me), there is plenty, with the odds stacked heavily against the protagonist.
And finally, back to the deeper themes: there is realistic depiction of the impact of beloved child's death on a family and on individual parents, and a satisfying treatment of such impacts as grief, despair, the sin of sloth or acedia and of recovery from these wounds and wrongful attitudes. A moral tale with a realistically conflicted protagonist. I'm looking for more books by Lee now.
The raison d'etre of this blog is to write about genre fiction with Christian content, and not about the genre of Christian fiction. So how does it measure up?
I can't honestly tell from this one novel whether Lee is a Christian, but it's my blogsite so I am claiming there's enough Christian content for it to be in here. The hero is certainly angry enough at God to have stopped believing in Him by the beginning of the story, but the question of his belief remains unanswered throughout, and many of the significant characters in the book are believers: his Chinese mother; his American wife; and the teenage rape victim whose case he prosecutes. There is no preaching, no discussions of religion, but no cheap shots at religions either. There are plenty of good people whose faith position is unspecified, but, as I said, some good people whose faith is explicit and not incidental to their goodness. It is one of those stories, pretty common in legal fiction for some reason, where the protagonist starts the story in a state of emotional and/or moral collapse, and in the course of pursuing an important case, also deals with his demons.
I like these novels best, where the hero makes some progress internally. Consider in contrast the novels of James Swain, discussed in a previous blog: Swain's heroes go throuch external tribulations but remain somewhat two dimensional and static.
Another element I enjoy that is key to Lee's book is that of politics: both the internal politics of the district attorney's office, and the external politics of an approaching election that affects the district attorney and several judges involved in the rape case.
While the eventual resolution of the rape case seems to depend on quite a bit of luck at the end(as if Lee was rushed for time or space and had to wrap his final plot reversals too quickly), what seems implausible in terms of real life works well dramatically. That is, the acceleration of pace and twist in the final pages, is an excellent way to end a book that is part legal procedural and part thriller.
Which brings up another thing I like about this book: the pacing is sometimes fast, sometimes slow. There were times I could put it down, knowing I had good reading ahead, and times when I couldn't let go.
For those who like courtroom drama (me), there is plenty, with the odds stacked heavily against the protagonist.
And finally, back to the deeper themes: there is realistic depiction of the impact of beloved child's death on a family and on individual parents, and a satisfying treatment of such impacts as grief, despair, the sin of sloth or acedia and of recovery from these wounds and wrongful attitudes. A moral tale with a realistically conflicted protagonist. I'm looking for more books by Lee now.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Genre fiction
What is it about genre fiction? And to dig deeper to its essence: what is it about reading all the books by the same author of genre fiction? It's about knowing what you'll get and not minding, in fact, counting on, getting that same reliable mixture of pleasing ingredients.
Real literature, I'm sure, isn't done this way. Those engaged in it are always experimenting with new forms and subjects, growing as artists. But what I like to read are writers who are happily, or at least profitably, digging themselves into the rut of their success. And I will happily follow them there.
James Lee Burke, for example, will write another Dave Robicheau novel about the recovering alcoholic, social justice Catholic detective who rides roughrod through the lives of the Louisiana rich and powerful. A conflicted hero, often given to self-loathing, occasionally to insane violence. Burke manages, I think, to create literature from within this genre, but others would disagree. What do you think?
Real literature, I'm sure, isn't done this way. Those engaged in it are always experimenting with new forms and subjects, growing as artists. But what I like to read are writers who are happily, or at least profitably, digging themselves into the rut of their success. And I will happily follow them there.
James Lee Burke, for example, will write another Dave Robicheau novel about the recovering alcoholic, social justice Catholic detective who rides roughrod through the lives of the Louisiana rich and powerful. A conflicted hero, often given to self-loathing, occasionally to insane violence. Burke manages, I think, to create literature from within this genre, but others would disagree. What do you think?
Wow! big gap since my first blog. Frankly,it was an exceedingly chaotic time for me. Now I'm back at.
I picked up a couple of Dean Koontz novels at a second hand store.Whispers and Winter Moon. But I can only read these one at a time; i.e., they are so intense I will take a break between the first and the second. Koontz fits my core idea for this blog: his novels are for the reader of thrillers and of supernatural or gothic thrillers. His religious views are evident but not intrusive, and evident in two ways: first, his characters often are Catholics and attend mass or confession or consult priests as a matter of course--no big deal. Second, the underlying moral/spiritual universe is Catholic. There are angels, there are ghosts, there are miracles and there are good and bad. There is a belief in the sanctity of life that stands against, for example, euthanasia and cloning.
Still, I'm never sure i'm going to like the next Koontz. Nearly all his books take place in the space of a few days. I prefer stories that change the pace: crime novels generally do this: slow detecting for weeks or months or (in the James Ellroy novel I just finished, Clandestine, five) years. Frenetic action, then life goes on, then more frenetic action.
I picked up a couple of Dean Koontz novels at a second hand store.Whispers and Winter Moon. But I can only read these one at a time; i.e., they are so intense I will take a break between the first and the second. Koontz fits my core idea for this blog: his novels are for the reader of thrillers and of supernatural or gothic thrillers. His religious views are evident but not intrusive, and evident in two ways: first, his characters often are Catholics and attend mass or confession or consult priests as a matter of course--no big deal. Second, the underlying moral/spiritual universe is Catholic. There are angels, there are ghosts, there are miracles and there are good and bad. There is a belief in the sanctity of life that stands against, for example, euthanasia and cloning.
Still, I'm never sure i'm going to like the next Koontz. Nearly all his books take place in the space of a few days. I prefer stories that change the pace: crime novels generally do this: slow detecting for weeks or months or (in the James Ellroy novel I just finished, Clandestine, five) years. Frenetic action, then life goes on, then more frenetic action.
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