Unfortunately, it’s true. Even trying to call up the devil with the best of intentions can go awry. All hell can break loose. The news from Iowa gripped me in its cold fingers until the real unvarnished, true back story emerged: The ritual killer was simply dyslexic. You've heard of the dyslexic who walked into a bra? That's Louis Harris, Jr.
Read the truth of “Satanic Ritual Gone Bad” at
http://www.short-humour.org.uk/3writersshowcase/satanicritualgonebad.htm.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Don’t Overlook Elmore Leonard
Is 9/09/09 an auspicious day? Hell no. I wrote about it in “Number Eleven” years ago. Check it out at http://www.bewilderingstories.com/issue272/number_eleven.html.
Okay, to another subject: Elmore Leonard has written a new book, the 41st notch on his gun, not counting 31 works turned into movies and TV shows. Robert Pinsky, in The New York Times, said Elmore Leonard’s Road Dogs “is about the varying degrees of truth and baloney in human relationships. Sometimes the truth or the baloney is lethal. Droll and exciting, enriched by the self-aware, what-the-hell-why-not insouciance of a master now in his mid-80s, Road Dogs presents interesting questions: Can a grown person change? Specifically, can a man abandon expertise that wins him respect but makes a mess of his life? Can anybody trust anybody? Is love ever true? Is friendship ever real? Or, leaving aside love and friendship, does loyalty exist? We road dogs—trotting along companionably on our way to sniff and woof and boogie-woogie and perhaps knock over an occasional trash barrel together—are we reliable?”
I’ve kept a list of every book I’ve read since 1973, starting when I realized I was reading an embarrassing amount of pop fiction at the expense of more worthy literary efforts. Not that Robert Ludlum is bad, but it’s genre writing.
Finishing my seventh Elmore Leonard opus I realized it was time to get back to Drew Gilpin Faust’s This Republic of Suffering or David Liss’s Conspiracy of Paper. Then I had my epiphany: Elmore Leonard is a damn good writer.
You know Leonard from the films Get Shorty, Stick, Mr. Majestyk, Jackie Brown and 27 others. You just haven’t read him.
The Christian Science Monitor’s James Kaufman wrote in 1983, “It’s taken awhile for people to catch onto Leonard, though Stick finally brought him the scrutiny of the critical establishment…. But like more overnight successes, Leonard had been writing…since 1953.” Newgate Callendar, writing in The New York Times Book Review, stated, “When [Leonard’s] 52 Pickup appeared in 1974, it had some critics talking in terms of Raymond Chandler and Ross Macdonald
Leonard’s characters are for the most part, good, decent people, but ones who might challenge you to arm wrestle. The writing is spare and lacking in simile or metaphor. His protagonists have interior thoughts and existential questions. What remains when the reader puts down a Leonard work are characters drawn in clean, sharp lines. He is Hemingway, unexpurgated and sitting in a bar or police squad room. Don’t apologize for going out to pick up Road Dogs. You'll find Leonard is addictive.
Okay, to another subject: Elmore Leonard has written a new book, the 41st notch on his gun, not counting 31 works turned into movies and TV shows. Robert Pinsky, in The New York Times, said Elmore Leonard’s Road Dogs “is about the varying degrees of truth and baloney in human relationships. Sometimes the truth or the baloney is lethal. Droll and exciting, enriched by the self-aware, what-the-hell-why-not insouciance of a master now in his mid-80s, Road Dogs presents interesting questions: Can a grown person change? Specifically, can a man abandon expertise that wins him respect but makes a mess of his life? Can anybody trust anybody? Is love ever true? Is friendship ever real? Or, leaving aside love and friendship, does loyalty exist? We road dogs—trotting along companionably on our way to sniff and woof and boogie-woogie and perhaps knock over an occasional trash barrel together—are we reliable?”
I’ve kept a list of every book I’ve read since 1973, starting when I realized I was reading an embarrassing amount of pop fiction at the expense of more worthy literary efforts. Not that Robert Ludlum is bad, but it’s genre writing.
Finishing my seventh Elmore Leonard opus I realized it was time to get back to Drew Gilpin Faust’s This Republic of Suffering or David Liss’s Conspiracy of Paper. Then I had my epiphany: Elmore Leonard is a damn good writer.
You know Leonard from the films Get Shorty, Stick, Mr. Majestyk, Jackie Brown and 27 others. You just haven’t read him.
The Christian Science Monitor’s James Kaufman wrote in 1983, “It’s taken awhile for people to catch onto Leonard, though Stick finally brought him the scrutiny of the critical establishment…. But like more overnight successes, Leonard had been writing…since 1953.” Newgate Callendar, writing in The New York Times Book Review, stated, “When [Leonard’s] 52 Pickup appeared in 1974, it had some critics talking in terms of Raymond Chandler and Ross Macdonald
Leonard’s characters are for the most part, good, decent people, but ones who might challenge you to arm wrestle. The writing is spare and lacking in simile or metaphor. His protagonists have interior thoughts and existential questions. What remains when the reader puts down a Leonard work are characters drawn in clean, sharp lines. He is Hemingway, unexpurgated and sitting in a bar or police squad room. Don’t apologize for going out to pick up Road Dogs. You'll find Leonard is addictive.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Sayonara Summertime
One more week to Labor Day. Is it too soon to fear the end of summer is creeping in like a bad dream? Time to shake the sand out my beach towel and gird myself for autumn? No matter, it’s been a great summer. The family is doing well. The heat has been tolerable. My only regret is that if we’d had more rain I’d’ve written more instead of hanging out at the pool or hitting the Point Pleasant boardwalk or eating at the raw bar on the Manasquan Inlet.
Still, I did a fair amount of writing. “Demon Switch” suggested measures to prevent demonic mayhem, published June 5 by Everyday Weirdness, at http://everydayweirdness.com/e/20090605/. “Death in the Afternoon” took a metaphorical look at adolescent relationships through melting ice cubes, published by Every Day Fiction. July 4, at http://www.everydayfiction.com/death-in-the-afternoon-by-walter-giersbach/. “Who Dares Call It Murder?” was a venture into near-future speculative fiction, published by OG Short Fiction on July 15 at www.theopinionguy.com. Bewildering Stories has slated “Gothic Revival” for an upcoming issue. And a trio of humor pieces was published by the U.K. site, http://www.short-humour.org.uk/3writersshowcase/deathbyapathy.htm.
Still, I wonder if I have the energy, endurance and perspicacity to write a novel. Maybe I'll know when NaNoWriMo—National Novel Writing Month—rolls around in October. Hell, maybe I won’t shake out the beach towel just yet..
Still, I did a fair amount of writing. “Demon Switch” suggested measures to prevent demonic mayhem, published June 5 by Everyday Weirdness, at http://everydayweirdness.com/e/20090605/. “Death in the Afternoon” took a metaphorical look at adolescent relationships through melting ice cubes, published by Every Day Fiction. July 4, at http://www.everydayfiction.com/death-in-the-afternoon-by-walter-giersbach/. “Who Dares Call It Murder?” was a venture into near-future speculative fiction, published by OG Short Fiction on July 15 at www.theopinionguy.com. Bewildering Stories has slated “Gothic Revival” for an upcoming issue. And a trio of humor pieces was published by the U.K. site, http://www.short-humour.org.uk/3writersshowcase/deathbyapathy.htm.
Still, I wonder if I have the energy, endurance and perspicacity to write a novel. Maybe I'll know when NaNoWriMo—National Novel Writing Month—rolls around in October. Hell, maybe I won’t shake out the beach towel just yet..
Sunday, August 2, 2009
If There’s a Doctor in the House…
Until recently, I’ve been running to doctors for checkups like a rat chasing nachos. All I get are concerned frowns as they consult their PDRs. So, perhaps I’m not the best of patients. But there are worse, and they’re part of “Innovations in Medicine, at The Short Humour Site. Read it at http://www.short-humour.org.uk/3writersshowcase/innovationsinmedicine.htm and call me in the morning.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
“Who Dares Call It Murder?”
It’s murder when George Bush, the little emperor, sends kids off to Iraq to be killed. And it’s murder when healthcare costs mean neglecting a doctor because the rent is due. But is it murder when you kill your wife? Ah, but I hope you’ll read the whole story, “Who Dares Call It Murder?” at The Opinion Guy. It’s up at http://www.theopinionguy.com.
Author David Levy (Love and Sex with Robots) caught my eye when he suggested that in the future, people will fall in love with robots. Robots won’t be cold, predictable machines, but actual lovers—precocious, sexy, remarkably humanlike in appearance… And in the progressive states, some people will even marry a robot.
Editor Seth Crossman said of this speculative fiction, “Hah! I don’t know what I like more, the depth of character you present in so few words or the frustration I feel at wishing I could see more of this love story.”
Author David Levy (Love and Sex with Robots) caught my eye when he suggested that in the future, people will fall in love with robots. Robots won’t be cold, predictable machines, but actual lovers—precocious, sexy, remarkably humanlike in appearance… And in the progressive states, some people will even marry a robot.
Editor Seth Crossman said of this speculative fiction, “Hah! I don’t know what I like more, the depth of character you present in so few words or the frustration I feel at wishing I could see more of this love story.”
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Jersey Tawk
People not from the South Jersey shore probably think we talk—or tawk—funny. A long meat-filled sandwich is more often a hoagie (Jersey shore and South Philly) than a hero (New York dialect), sub (North Jersey), grinder (New England) or blimpie (commercial name). Similarly, the candies on an ice cream are jimmies instead of sprinkles and the tourists are bennies or shubies.
I was tawking with an in-law from Manahawkin last weekend, and he mentioned some of the shore towns have no parking areas. This is to discourage the shubies. Sometimes spelled shoobies, the word refers to visitors who used to bring their beach snacks in a shoe box. A bit farther north, say Point Pleasant, every kid knows the auslanders are bennies. The come, variously, to absorb the benefits of the Jersey shore or because they’re from Brooklyn Elizabeth, Newark and New York.
There’s even a language distinction that separates Ocean County from the hillier north counties. We call a truck with detachable trailer a tractor trailer, not a trailer truck. You fetch water in a bucket and not a pail.
As for the accent, there really is a Jersey-New York accent, according to Rutgers linguist Fay Yeager. Our accent lacks the “th” diphthong and the “r”, she says, very much like British English. And that was adopted in the 1920s by the upper—uppah—classes. “Finga” sounded classier than finger, apparently. If you’re still confused, give the Jersey speaker the finga. “We been true dis tree times awreddy.”
I was tawking with an in-law from Manahawkin last weekend, and he mentioned some of the shore towns have no parking areas. This is to discourage the shubies. Sometimes spelled shoobies, the word refers to visitors who used to bring their beach snacks in a shoe box. A bit farther north, say Point Pleasant, every kid knows the auslanders are bennies. The come, variously, to absorb the benefits of the Jersey shore or because they’re from Brooklyn Elizabeth, Newark and New York.
There’s even a language distinction that separates Ocean County from the hillier north counties. We call a truck with detachable trailer a tractor trailer, not a trailer truck. You fetch water in a bucket and not a pail.
As for the accent, there really is a Jersey-New York accent, according to Rutgers linguist Fay Yeager. Our accent lacks the “th” diphthong and the “r”, she says, very much like British English. And that was adopted in the 1920s by the upper—uppah—classes. “Finga” sounded classier than finger, apparently. If you’re still confused, give the Jersey speaker the finga. “We been true dis tree times awreddy.”
Thursday, July 2, 2009
International Relations Improving
One of the most amazing things happened when I submitted a short humor piece —excuse me, humour—to The Short Humour Site. Editor Brian Huggett e-mailed me from England an hour later with an acceptance and the piece already on the board. Wow!
I responded, “I’m totally amazed that you digested the piece and had it online within the hour! My writing isn't Dickens or Shakespeare. It's not like editors are knocking down my door, crying balefully for gripping stories.” I added that I would submit more, although America isn't a place that encourages warm humor or wit.
He answered, “We look forward to reading other submissions. Neither Dickens nor Shakespeare have submitted anything thus far, so you are ahead of them already.”
You can read “Tidings of Great Woe” at http://www.short-humour.org.uk/3writersshowcase/tidingsofgreatwoe.htm. And a big thanks to my fellow blogger Avis for hipping me to this market.
I responded, “I’m totally amazed that you digested the piece and had it online within the hour! My writing isn't Dickens or Shakespeare. It's not like editors are knocking down my door, crying balefully for gripping stories.” I added that I would submit more, although America isn't a place that encourages warm humor or wit.
He answered, “We look forward to reading other submissions. Neither Dickens nor Shakespeare have submitted anything thus far, so you are ahead of them already.”
You can read “Tidings of Great Woe” at http://www.short-humour.org.uk/3writersshowcase/tidingsofgreatwoe.htm. And a big thanks to my fellow blogger Avis for hipping me to this market.
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