Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World... A Book Review

DEWEY: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World

By Vicki Myron, with Bret Witter

Grand Central Publishing; Hardcover, 

ISBN-10  0-446-40741-0;  $19.99 US

277 pages.

Reviewed by Marianne Plumridge – October 2008

I like reading biographies now and then. I also like reading animal biographies once in a blue moon. Blame ‘The Wonderful World of Disney’ from when I was a kid.

I was reading comments on a mystery writers’ blog when one commenter quipped an aside that caught my attention. She said: “Hey, I just read an advance copy of DEWEY - about the famous library cat. It’s the new MARLEY AND ME.” Or words to that effect. ‘Library’ and ‘Cat’ stood out, so I looked it up. So I’m a sucker for things that happen in libraries…

Anyway, I obtained a copy of the book when it came out this week and read it the same day. The headache following that was well worth it.

Back in Spencer, Iowa, on 18 January 1988, the temperature had dropped to below 15 degrees. The wind made it seem much, much colder. When Public Librarian, Vicki Myron arrived at work that morning, she and a co-worker found something strange in the overnight drop box: a tiny bundle of near frozen fur containing a huge pair of hopeless eyes. Vicki and Jean rescued the poor little kitten and strived to warm it up, since it was too early to call the vet. A warm bath in the sink revealed that the little fellow was actually orange, not grey, and turned out to be a very young long-haired orange tabby cat. On his first hobble (his toes were a bit frostbitten) around the table to introduce himself to the rest of the library staff, the boy kitten melted the hearts of all he met. They called him Dewey and hoped that the Library could keep him.

That was the tricky bit - gaining acceptance of the Library Board of Directors as well as the Mayor, and the majority of the patrons. Things like allergies, asthma, and complaints had to be addressed, since the library was a public place. Vicki did her homework and got medical opinions about all of the health concerns. It turned out that the Spencer Public Library was perfectly built to house both Dewey and the allergy/asthma ridden visitors, so most people were assured. One woman though, whom the library staff never did meet all of the long years that Dewey lived there, wrote a letter of complaint that was pure “…fire and brimstone, full of images of children keeling over from sudden asthma attacks and pregnant mothers spontaneously miscarrying when exposed to kitty litter. According to the letter, I was a murderous madwoman who was not only threatening the health of every innocent child in town, born or unborn, but also destroying the very fabric of the community…” Sad, really.

Dewey himself was perfectly behaved. From kitten-hood onward, he was a calm, friendly people-loving, social cat who wove himself into the fabric of the Spencer community during both good times and bad. And there were bad times and crises. Despite personal problems of her own, Vicki Myron strived to make the Public Library a place for enjoyment as well as help to the many people who needed it. Economic downturn, loss of employment, bankruptcies, etcetera, all took their toll on the rural populace. Vicki created the Job Bank at the Library: a section that contained all the job listings, books on job skills, job descriptions, and technical training, a computer to create resumes and letters, and a caring staff to help them use it all. Dewey’s arrival seemed to help too, although “…Dewey didn’t put food on anyone’s table. He didn’t create jobs. He didn’t turn our economy around. But one of the worst things about bad times is the effect on you mind. Bad times drain you of energy. They occupy your thoughts. They taint everything in your life. Bad news is as poisonous as bad bread. At the very least, Dewey was a distraction…”

But he was so much more. His story resonated with the people of Spencer. His story of survival matched their own. After all, he survived his worst trial, so there was hope for theirs. Dewey’s personality reflected a trust and confidence, but never arrogance, and a sort of serenity that soothed many a burdened or case-hardened heart. A persistent lap sitter, Dewey wormed his furry backside into as many friendships as he did small boxes. The author’s large store of Dewey stories are funny, touching, but never cloying, and reach out to all readers alike. In fact, Vicki purposefully downplays many of Dewey’s antics in comparison to the many larger issues at hand, but his effect can’t help but leave a definitive impression anyway. He was that kind of special cat.

Whether sitting quietly with an autistic child during reading time, stalking laps, playing hide and seek after hours with the staff, volunteering to lend fluffy cuddles and purrs to someone needing comfort, hunting rubber bands to eat, or inspiring hearts, Dewey always gave his best.  Some years into his library residence, people from far away were arriving to visit the Library Cat. He’d been the subject of newspaper articles, a few magazine articles, and radio commentary. Somehow, his existence reached beyond that small Iowa town and stretched all the way to Japan. A camera team and a director subsequently arrived and spent a whole day with Dewey, filming his every move. None of Dewey’s visitors or fans ever went away disappointed. And to some of them, his small furry attendance made a difference in their lives.

This is a lovely book. Something to read on a cold winter night snuggled under a warm rug with a cup of tea or hot chocolate beside you. Or read it at any other time of the year and still be warmed by Dewey’s story and those who loved him…

Marianne Plumridge

Honourable Mention

I got a lovely email this morning to say that my story, "Wormhole Magic" has won an Honourable Mention in the Spec the Halls contest. When I went and looked up the details, it seems that the only other prize was the winner. Yayyyy!!!

Thanks Santa and Abra.
Cheers,
Marianne

Metal Gear Solid...A Book Review

METAL GEAR SOLID
The Official Novel of the Thrilling Konami Video Game Created by Hideo Kojima.

By Raymond Benson

A Del Rey Trade Paperback Original; ISBN-13: 978-0-345-50328-2 (pbk); 321 Pages; Price: $12.95

Reviewed by Marianne Plumridge


Two babies are cloned from the legendary soldier and dictator, Big Boss. One grows up to become a US black ops raider who takes out his ‘father’ as a member of FOXHOUND, before retiring to the Alaskan wilderness at the age of 33. The other is a renegade British spy who disappears in the Middle East, is rescued and then also joins FOXHOUND as an operative. Solid Snake is the American retiree called back to deal with his ‘brother’, Liquid Snake, when the latter glues together a terrorist team from the splintered remnants of FOXHOUND and an army of brainwashed genome soldiers, and threatens nuclear annihilation. Liquid’s lieutenants are formidable: Psycho Mantis – a Russian with powerful psychic abilities that keeps the genome troops under control, and distinct advantage in psychological warfare; Sniper Wolf – a Kurdish woman from Iraq who is sexy and lethal, and unparalleled with a sniper rifle, who can control the wolf and other canines; Decoy Octopus – is a Mexican master of disguise, a metamorph who can become anyone or anything and speak a dozen languages; Vulcan Raven – half Alaskan Indian and half Inuit Eskimo, is a veritable giant with Shamanist magic at his control; lastly, there is Revolver Ocelot – a Russian expert gunfighter and interrogator specialist. They have taken over the secret nuclear warfare facility on Shadow Moses Island in the Aleutians, and Solid Snake must go in and take them down. Alone.

Snake’s objective is to rescue DARPA Chief Donald Anderson and the President of ArmsTech, Kenneth Baker. A complication is that the niece of Snake’s controller/commander, Colonel Roy Campbell, is also a hostage on the island and may possibly be a loose canon that gets in Snake’s way. Injected with an anti-freezing agent and armed with only a 45 caliber Mark 23 SOCOM gun and a Codec communications device – that comes with a small Greek chorus of listening experts – Snake sneaks onto the island via submarine and gets ready to take down the bad guys, disarm the nukes, rescue the hostages, and save the world. Piece of cake…

And so begins possibly one of the longest, back and forth, to and fro, up and down, black ops rescues in fictional history.

The pace, of course, reflects video game play, with protagonist repeatedly ‘finding’ things that are helpful along the way; like ammunition for his gun, mines, several caches of Chaffee grenades, etcetera. Coincidental plot devices, like Solid Snake overhearing snatches of guards’ conversations that tell him exactly where his prey is located or things he needs to know right at that moment, abound. Meanwhile the men he is sent to rescue just happen to die of natural causes or results of their wounds right after they tell Snake everything he needs to know to continue his mission. Being dead, they don’t affect slowing Snake, nor the plot, down. Continuing the pattern of video game logic of acquiring talismans or ‘handy power items’, Snake manages to stock up on ammunition, pass keys, and valuable information from just about everyone he encounters and quite often defeats or kills.

The author’s extensive background in writing technical laden scenarios in ‘action hero fiction’ was made for writing this narrative. It positively wallows in superfluous expository technical dialog – usually supplied by the experts listening in to Snake’s activities on the Codec. Even if it is a prerequisite of the videogame itself, Benson supplies the details with aplomb and a nice touch of deft humor.

However, Snake is in the middle of it and isn’t being told everything he needs to know to complete his mission. Secrets abound on both sides of the equation, and not everything is as it seems – which probably accounts for a lot of the mis-directional toing and froing. To his surprise, there is at least one ‘mole’ with a personal agenda amongst his personal ‘Greek chorus’; and Snake isn’t sure about the rest. Throw a psychotically lethal stealth ninja into the mix on the island, intent on battling Snake to the death, and things get a whole lot more complicated.

Of course, the whole thing culminates in the deadly face off between Liquid and Solid (Snake) and the realization that our hero Snake has been manipulated all along by both sides – good and bad. And although there is a happy ending of sorts – the story doesn’t end there. You’ll just have to read it and find out.

The author has managed to create a likeable protagonist using the singular dimensional material he was given to work with. It’s a great romp with a touch of humor and actually manages to give the video game some fictional ballast that works. The novelization of ‘Metal Gear Solid’ isn’t something I’d recommend to serious readers of fiction, but those who play the game will find it a satisfactory and fun accessory to their gaming pleasure. Then again, serious readers who read Tom Clancy or Clive Cussler thrillers might get some fun out of this book too: it’s well written and a lot of fun.

Marianne

Personal Note: My husband reminds me that I was introduced to Hideo Kojima at the Toho Pictures after event party for the Premiere of ‘Godzilla: Final Wars’ movie in Hollywood in 2004. A very nice young man, as I remember.

The Art Corner - After the Fire and Grand Reopening

In late April of this year, our dear friends Wendy and Charles "Chuck" Lang fell afoul of an aging electrical wire that finally gave way inside their charming framing store and gallery, The Art Corner, in Salem, Massacheussetts. At around 9pm, after the store closed, the slowly smouldering wire burst into flame and consumed the entire upstairs of the shop. It took a good hour for the Fire Dept to get it under control, but do so they did - even rescuing the goldfish which miraculously all survived, except two little ones. The store itself has been in business for 30 years, 18 of which Wendy was the manager there until she purchased it from the owner three years ago. She and Chuck, and their able assistants redecorated, held regular exhibits from local artists, exhibited photos from old Salem, and had artist friends around to 'paint in the window'. Bob and I are two of the regulars who do paint performances, so when Wendy asked us back to paint again on the new premises, we leapt at the chance to show our support and just have fun with two friends who've been through a lot this year...

This is the new shop that The Art Corner has moved into until it is finally decided what to do with the old premises.

Wendy, behind the counter serving a regular customer in the new store. A true creative is our Wendy, one of her own paintings sits in the top right hand corner of the photo below.

Looking over the top of my paintbox and resident cute panda painting, you can see the opposite corner of the shop where my husband, Bob, is painting. The gentleman off the right is a very patient customer. Through the door at the back, is the snug workshop. As lovely as the new/temporary premises are, the space is actually significantly smaller than the original store, but oh so light and airy...

Charles "Chuck" Lang working next to Bob on a painting of his own. Behind them are a lot of the antique frames that were saved from the nearly untouched basement of the original store.

My paint box, plus panda...

Bob near the main window of the store, showing the corner where I set up my paintbox. The little print rack and some of the prints it contained, were our gift to the store for the reopening.

I asked Wendy if she needed some paintings for the new blank walls and received a heartfelt YES. So Bob and I brought along some of our daily paintings for consignment. Chuck's paintings, including two of his unique banana ones, are in the top row; mine are in the middle; and four of Bob's landscapes are in the middle of the bottom row, flanked by two of Wendy's cats.

Bob painting...

The back wall of the new shop displayed photos of the fire, ones of better times of the staff, and newspaper articles about the fire... Chuck wanted to go and rub some of the ash behind each piece so people would look closely and say "wow, you can almost smell it!"

And while Wendy was showing visitors around the new store, Chuck gave others the '5 cent tour' of the burnt out old Art Corner building around the corner.

Right in front of the front entrance where the fish tank used to stand. I worried about that poor porcelain horse on the floor. All of his mates, small and large, were consumed, but he doesn't look too bad there. The pumpkin painting is one of Chuck's, and we joked that it had assumed a lot of appropriate character with its smoke and ash damage. It's still a sad loss though.

Looking to the right of the front door into the stock frames area and gallery exhibition wall. Sad to say the photo exhibit was lost. And you can still see the small frames I used to gleefully paw through during our visits.


A better view of the porcelain horsie...

As you stand in the door and face diagonally a bit to the left, this where the business bit took place. The lump in the centre is...was the laptop computer. All of the thin layers beneath the bench behind it are countless pieces of matting board. On the wall to the left, you can just make out the light areas where the molding corners were stacked hanging on the wall. Another one of Chuck's paintings rests against the front of the table. A box of his small works that used to adorn the front table was lost as well.

Facing from the front counter thru to the back of the shop where finishing epuipment once stood and all of the customers work for framing was filed. 10% was lost completely - some totally irreplacable; 40% had some varying damage from smoke or water, or both; and 50% were miraculously undamaged. Any loss is shocking, and my heart goes out to the people who lost a treasure - and give them thanks for their kind understanding.

This is one of Wendy's signature paintings that didn't quite make it. And behind that, I think, another one of Chuck's. There was also a really long, framed old photograph of the Great Salem Fire of June 25, 1914 in the old store. I spotted it in the backroom of the new shop: one end of the frame was pure charcoal, while the other end looked really good; the glass was smoke hazed and cracked, but the photo underneath didn't look too bad at first glance. I kidded Wendy that it now looked authentic, but glad that it survived.

Wendy and Chuck, and the people who work with them have been through a terrible experience and have fought upwards against the stream current to get their business back into shape. It has been a herioc effort, with the local businesses and regular customers pitching in to help.

The Salem Arts Association, in which Wendy was fundamental in helping recreate in recent years, is holding a "Toast"- to Benefit The Art Corner' on June 28. They can be contacted via their website at http://saa.onefireplace.org/

Meanwhile, the new location for The Art Corner is open for business and raring to go. Look for more news and photos at their blog http://www.theartcorner.blogspot.com/ Drop in for a look see and say Hi.

Over all, the Grand Reopening was a great success with many customers bringing things in to be framed, stopping to chat and have a nibble on the food spread, and look over our shoulders and watch us paint. Many thanks to the chap who thoughtfully brought in the bottles of champagne. The relaunch was off to a roaring start...

See you there,

Marianne

Bloodline...A Book Review

BLOODLINE:
A Genealogical Mystery

By Fiona Mountain

Signet Mystery, an imprint of the Penguin Group (USA). Paperback ISBN: 978-0-451-22268-8;
296 pages; RRP $6.99.

A book review by Marianne Plumridge

Genealogy is often seen as a gentle hobby of enthusiasts who want to reconnect with their ancestors, the roots from whence they sprung. Not often is it referred to as dangerous or worth murdering someone over. However, the past often surprises us with its scandal, sordidness, criminal elements and radical inaccuracies, as well as the tedium of quiet life after quiet life. Beware of bestirring the dust of ages past, for there are those who don’t like the coverlet of anonymity lifted for all the world to see and judge.

And there are those who would kill to let sleeping secrets lie.

When Natasha Blake accepts a very well paid emergency commission to trace a young man’s family tree for his prospective grandfather in law, it seems mysterious only in the fact that her client wouldn’t do it himself. Wealthy magnate, Charles Seagrove is an accomplished genealogist of note, and quite able to trace his soon to be son in law’s antecedents for himself. Instead, he hires Natasha for a very tidy sum. Somehow, the results of the research have a profound affect on Seagrove and he moves to end his grand daughter’s betrothal to her beloved John. No one really understands why. When Seagrove is murdered the two days after a garden party at Shadwell Manor, and raving great row with his granddaughter over her fiancé, Natasha is branded the cause of it all. At least her commissioned research is, but she is made the butt of their anger. The remaining Seagroves: wife, son, and granddaughter all pour outrage, aggression and anger over Natasha and accuse her of deliberately interfering with the family and doing damage. I’m quite at a loss as to why they should do so, other than perhaps the misdirected blame of the bereaved. The son, Richard Seagrove, forces Natasha to continue her research into the Hellier family to find out why Charles Seagrove turned on his future son in law, and perhaps the truth of his own murder. In delving into the history of Charles Seagrove himself and the increasingly shadowy past of Shadwell manor, Natasha turns up more than she bargained for. Nothing is what it seems, and nor was the victim. The consequences of his actions and beliefs affect three generations of his family, destroys lives, and almost destroys the one about to be born. In amongst it all are a strange anonymous letter, the ghostly sounds of a baby crying, secrets, death, legacy, longing, and revenge, which Natasha’s questing fingers must tease into a semblance of order and truth.

The roots of the cause lay in the outcome of the First World War and its famed Christmas Truce, the rise of the Nazis in the new Germany, and the radical effects of genocide and breeding programs. And the resulting effect on one young, impressionable boy, Charles Seagrove, and his response to it. Though, how embracing the Nazi beliefs connects with the honor and dignity of the ‘Christmas Truce’ of 1914, as recounted in the novel, is never fully explained. The reader might benefit from the thought processes of Charles Seagrove, and how he made the journey from the former to the latter with such absolute conviction. But they are not fully aired or explored, mores the pity. There is a generalization of how Seagrove was one of many wealthy landowners in England, as well as the unemployed masses, who were “... disillusioned by what they saw as the useless slaughter of the First World War, harbored a sense of debt that needed to be paid to the dead, were angered by the failure of governments create a home fit for heroes and a society that adequately compensated for the horror of the trenches…” but it doesn’t quite cover the conversion of this charismatic Englishman into a traitor and a callous usurer of human life. The retelling of Seagrove’s time in Nazi Germany, towards the climax in the book, only really covers his indoctrination into the fanatical Nazi belief in racial bloodlines, bad and good, and the Lebensborn program it operated. In reality, the rise of Nazism and the youth organizations destroyed much of the family unit as a whole in Germany. Loyalty to the party and the Fuhrer were placed above familial loyalties, and children were encouraged to turn their parents, siblings, and other relatives in to the authorities for the slightest misdemeanor against the Nazi system. Not to mention that with luring the youth born to country ways and farming into the cities, many families lost valuable assistance in running their farms and maintaining harvests, etcetera. Community and familial infrastructure suffered accordingly and took decades to recover. While Nazism publicly lauded the perfect German family, its actions detrimentally undermined it. Like Charles Seagrove, the Nazis and any other closely involved, they couldn’t see the flaws in the process of selective breeding, or the inability of the human mind to accept rigid conditioning for long. Sadly, many of the Lebensborn babies were looked after in huge groups and so had no immediate input from a parent or sibling. They had a lower IQ in later years and sociological problems. Others actually adjusted and survived fairly well when taken into loving homes after the war. Such was the result of the great Nazi breeding program’s persistent pursuit to create the perfect ‘Aryan’ race. Ms. Mountain is quite correct in saying that influence and experience can shape a person just as much, if not more so, than genes and bloodlines.

Natasha Blake has her own demons to fight throughout this story. She is the adoptive child of loving parents, who doesn’t know who or where she came from. Perhaps this is why she is so good at tracing the genealogy of others. It helps nurture the belief that she might one day find her own family origins. Meanwhile, Natasha has difficulty with relationships. Her family has its own problems in the fact that her adoptive father, Steven, is something of a womanizer. Natasha is placed in a difficult position because she recognizes him for what he is, and can’t bear for her mother to be hurt. It’s a relief when Natasha’s mother, Ann, comes into her own – which brings its own comfort, as well as pain. Always feeling inadequate, and not really belonging, Natasha’s unrest manifests itself in dogged determination, constant insomnia and not looking after herself. It’s easier to fix other people’s needs than face her own and do something about them. Her vacillation on this lands her in hospital twice. Once, self inflicted, and second, as the result of her confronting the murderer and disarming a distraught young woman at the same time. Consequently, I rather liked this character.

Fiona Mountain is a great storyteller. And the few minor flaws that leapt off the page at me were more editorial than story related. All in all, Bloodline was a wonderfully entertaining read that more than filled a dreary day in winter. Who would have thought that genealogy could be so exciting? Though pursuing lines of research is so little different than pursuing murder and mystery clues. Well done.

Marianne Plumridge

Remains of the Dead...A Book Review

THE REMAINS OF THE DEAD:

A Ghost Dusters Mystery.
By Wendy Roberts

A Mass Market Paperback Mystery from Obsidian Mystery, an imprint of the Penguin Group. ISBN: 978-0-451-22268-8.

A book review by Marianne Plumridge


‘The Remains of the Dead’ is the first book in a new series by mystery author Wendy Roberts. Sadie Novak is the protagonist of the story, who owns and operates Scene 2 Clean, a biohazard recovery team that cleans crime scenes once the police have finished with them. That in itself would be a complicated career, but Sadie has a few added disadvantages: she can’t keep new help for long, and she talks to the dead.

Five years previously, Sadie’s beloved older brother, Brian, took his own life with a shotgun. And when there was no service available to clean the scene, it fell to Sadie to accomplish herself, to save her family any more grief. Brian was a happy go lucky type who had a great relationship with his two sisters, and they loved him right back. There was no suicide note, no indication that he was unhappy, let alone depressed enough to take the ultimate ‘out’. And Sadie couldn’t see him when he’d gone. From the time she was little, she’d been able to see and easily communicate with the earthbound ghosts who didn’t know or wouldn’t admit they were dead. She continues to help them crossover when she can, and find their way ‘home’, but she can’t see the ghosts of suicide victims or those who’ve made it to the other side on their own as spirits. For five long years that intense grief of never knowing why Brian did it, nor be able to say goodbye to him, has gnawed at her heart and soul. Strong and feisty, Sadie found that she couldn’t stand the idea of other families losing loved ones and then facing up to cleaning up the remains of their mortal shells, so she formed her own cleaning company to do it for them. Her staunch belief that no friend or family should ever have to see what she’d seen, or do what she’d had to do after Brian went, keeps her going.

But sometimes the ghosts complicate things.

Three people know about Sadie’s ability: her employee, Zack, who is barely able to tolerate it; her sister, Dawn was still adjusting to the idea; and her best friend, Pam, who wants her to go on ‘Oprah’. So it gets that much more difficult when a ghost tries to tell her that the other half of a murder/suicide she’s cleaning up after didn’t commit the crime. Trying to discreetly handle the Police, the deceased’s distraught parent, and personal commitments gets rather trying for Sadie as her curiosity digs her deeper and deeper into the affairs of the real killer. Framed, shot at, nearly seduced by the too-damn-sexy-by-far chief suspect, as well as her unresolved attraction to Zack, leads her a dangerous dance on a knife edge, while simultaneously trying to keep Scene 2 Clean operating and in the black, despite rumours and bad publicity. And in the meantime, there are the ghosts: some desperate, some funny, and some too poignant for words. Sadie gets incredible satisfaction from helping them, and a feeling of momentary inner peace for doing good. Pity it couldn’t translate into the chaos of her own life and issues. Sadie seems relatively comfortable in her self-professed curse, until an encounter with a 'medium' of a different type forces her to confront her own issues about it and others' gifts. Sadie's antagonistic meeting and grudging friendship with the psychic, Maeva is at times both rambunctious and funny. And downright dangerous. This new friendship is probably what Sadie needs, as she and Maeva are two fiesty sides to the same coin.

Sadie’s professional and sometimes reluctant personal relationship with Zack is deftly written and leaves the reader wanting more. They both have pasts, troubles and issues, but they work well together - anger, friction, disagreements, blood, guts and gore, danger, and obvious attraction aside. Pam’s running commentary on Zack’s scrumptious butt is fun too.

Fascinating and bemusing, and written with great style and edgy cleverness, this fast paced book will have you unable to put it down. Trust me, I know. And far be it from me to cheat any reader of the punch-line ending that will leave you in tears.

All I have to do now is wait for the yet untitled sequel to come out in December of this year. Meanwhile, according to Ms. Roberts, she is busily working on the third installment of Ghost Dusters. Hallelujah.

Wendy Roberts blog is at: http://www.wendyroberts.blogspot.com/

And www.wendyroberts.com

Cheers,
Marianne

The Chase...A Book Review

THE CHASE

by Clive Cussler

2007; G. P. Putnam’s Sons.
Hardcover, ISBN 13: 978-0-399-15438-6; 404 pages; Price $26.95

Reviewed by Marianne Plumridge – November 2007

It is unusual for Clive Cussler to deviate into a new lead character and timeline for a book, other than his usual, highly successful masculine leads: Dirk Pitt and Kurt Austin. However, the hero from ‘The Chase’, Isaac Bell, is tellingly cut from the same cloth. Born to wealth and privilege, able to call his own shots financially, romantically, and adventuristically, and something of a ladies man, Bell differs only in that he is an actual private detective working for the ‘famous’ Van Dorn Detective agency. He is, of course, a favourite with ‘the old man’ – Van Dorn, himself – and is the agency’s best agent. Like Pitt and Austin, Bell also has a passion for big boys’ toys: a unique fast car, an equally fast motorcycle, and trains. He likes to travel and reside expensively, but isn’t above getting his hands very dirty, or wading into danger. Exotically handsome, blonde, with mesmeric lavender-blue eyes, tall, lean, urbane, both playful and determined, Bell is the quintessential turn of the 19th century gentleman - one of the more exciting ones. With the current excesses of technology in today’s world, we live the future with a blasé acceptance and increasing lack of a sense of wonder about it all. Recent trends increasingly view the past as exotic and exciting, tinted with a rose-coloured romanticism: harking back to simpler times, when personal borders were not so blurred as they are today. Perhaps Mr. Cussler is trying to breathe new life into an overstressed literary field looking to excite its readers anew. This step back into the American past takes the reader to a time when the industrial age, and all of its knowledge and dreams were brand new, and there were still new frontiers to see and conquer.

‘The Chase’ begins enigmatically enough in 1950, with the raising of an antique train engine and its dead crew from the uttermost depths of a Montana lake. A mysterious stranger watches impassively and supplies background information about the locomotive and its fate. The scene then switches backward in time to 1906, to a bank robbery and murder. Enter the ‘Butcher Bandit’ a serial killer who robs banks of their payroll cash and cold-bloodedly executes any witnesses. He leaves no clues, and no-one to report his passing. His crimes are brilliantly thought out and meticulously rehearsed before being put into action. He seems un-locatable and unstoppable. In desperation, the government employs the Van Dorn agency to capture or kill the phantom-like robber/murderer, and Van Dorn calls in its best agent, Isaac Bell. Bell reviews the case file and like any good detective, sets out to revisit the scene of each of the most recent crimes. To talk to lawmen and anyone who might have unwittingly witnessed the passing of something, or someone strange. Foreshadowing in the text supplies the few ‘witnesses’ and their pitiable scraps of minute things seen or heard. From finding and questioning these people, Bell adroitly manipulates the few straws of information into a proverbial tapestry of a profile of the ‘Butcher Bandit’. It was a few of these ‘leaps of logic’ that left me frowning at the page and then going back to reread the previous pages, to find out how the character got from point A to point D in his assumptions. My curiosity wasn’t always satisfied. I winced at Bell’s declaration of “I know how the man thinks,” in his pursuit of Cromwell. A lot of the plot points seemed too convenient, and a few, too contrived.

The cat and mouse game that builds over the ensuing pages is quite fast paced. Bell compiles his profile on the killer and finds it points to a supposed pillar of the community, a wealthy banker in San Francisco named Jacob Cromwell. The prerequisite easy taunting banter between hunter and prey take place. There’s an attempt on Bell’s life by a paid assassin ‘heavy’, as well as two magnificently detailed hair-raising, cross-country chases: one in Bell’s fabled fast car, and one in a train engine unfettered by carriages. The mortality rate rises, and includes the death and presumed death of Bell’s two able and trusted assistant detectives in two different episodes. The climax of ‘The Chase’ becomes part of the great San Francisco Earthquake of 1906. In fact, it is after Cromwell’s capture and internment in San Quentin jail, and his subsequent escape by easily bribing the professed upright prison warden that finds Cromwell at home during the quake and ensuing conflagration. He has already begun preparations to escape the country when it hits. While the confusion reigns, he and his sister Margaret flee in a Cromwell’s luxurious private Pulman car attached to a fast engine, with much of the Cromwell Bank’s hard currency. Finding out what his adversary has done, Bell commandeers a fast train engine and crew and sets off in pursuit. It ends dramatically and badly during a freak storm on a train ferry in the middle of Flathead Lake in Montana.

A ‘bookend’ return to present day 1950 ties up the last of the loose ends, including some of the life of Isaac Bell and his family.

This is a great read, especially if you haven’t read any of Clive Cussler’s earliest dozen or so works. While this novel has many trademarks of Cussler’s consummate storytelling abilities, including the usual lavish detail imbuing the technical aspects of the vintage cars, motorbikes and trains, there is an obvious ‘lacking’ in others. I haven’t re-read the early works of this author for some years, nor read any of his more recent works. I was a fan for an awfully long time, though, so some of the plotting and writing of this new novel left me a bit unsettled. The character portrayals were somewhat two-dimensional compared to characters in Mr. Cussler’s other works; and some of the plot points were just a little too obvious for an author who is known for his mastery of fluid narrative, plotting, and style. Even though there were plenty of historic details spread carefully throughout the text, so much so that they didn’t overwhelm the reader, I still found it difficult to feel a sense of ‘place’ or atmosphere within the story. One set up scene contrasting Bell’s two ‘love interests', the pure Marion, and the ‘evil’ wanton Margaret, left me with a big WHY? It was clumsy and not really worthy of Mr. Cussler’s talent. I have yet to figure out why Marion was in this scene to begin with, other than to show her off as ‘pure’ against her more ‘depraved’ companions, and to begin the process of weaning her from her previous loyalty to her boss - underlining the fact that she’s seeing his coldness and indifference toward everything for the first time. This is after working for him for nine years.

If this were a previously unpublished early novel of Clive Cussler’s, my recommendation to the author would be to have gone back over it with the same care and attention he did with his other earlier works before going to print. However, it still reads well, and contains the quintessential Cussler hallmarks: historical mystery, fast pace, action, adventure, romance, witty interaction, a daring, devil-may-care romantic hero, and a worthy adversary. As with Pitt and Austin, one also might lament that the character of Isaac Bell is too perfect. However, this is fiction and many of us really do like our heroes larger than life.

Marianne Plumridge

New Art Sale Page!

Hello all,

Thanks for following my artistic endeavours this year, but I must apologise for the serious lack thereof in recent months. This is customarily our busiest time of the year, usually involving lots of travel, frantic working towards deadlines, conventions, and the subsequent getting ready for art shows. Well the majority of that has come to an end now, for the year, so I'll be getting back to some serious painting and writing real soon now. I have a hankering to continue my quirky still lifes-with-toys-and-pumpkins themes, but bigger.

Meanwhile, I thought about something a fan said to me recently in Japan. He said that although he loved my website, he didn't know what works were still available for sale, because there was no mention of price, availability, etcetera, mentioned there. So, being easier to update my blogsites than to update my website, I have now made up an ongoing blog page to list my works for sale. This includes older fantasy pieces as well as the more recent incarnations. Hopefully you'll drop by to look occasionally, and might even find something you might like. I'll be updating every week or two. When things are sold, they'll be marked as such, so there is no confusion.

The Sale Page can be found at http://artsalepage.blogspot.com/ or by clicking the link 'Marianne's ART Sale Page' at the left of this screen.

Thanks,
Marianne

The Story of Nick Paper

Today, we've come full circle from those terrible events of the last Tuesday, September 11...2001. Here is how we found friendship and creativity helped us get through that day. Here is...

'THE STORY OF 'NICK PAPER'

In my husband, Bob’s previous books, ‘Dragonhenge’ and ‘Stardragons’, he has used hand-tinted drawing paper for some of the illustrations contained therein. As a drawing surface, it’s about average and takes charcoal or pencil work really well. However the incidental imperfections caused during the hand-tinting process makes for all kinds of wonderful serendipitous inspirations. We’ve since affectionately dubbed it ‘Nick Paper’, because it all began with our friend Nick Stathopoulos.

Go back to the late summer of 2001 and the World Science Fiction Convention held in Philadelphia. Our good friend Nick had come all the way from Sydney, Australia to attend the convention and display his beautiful artwork in the art show there. Some of the pieces were exquisite drawings on golden tinted paper. Like many convention goers, we gazed at them in open admiration – at the paper as much as at the drawings. Always restless for new drawing surfaces that inspire, Bob and I joked about how we could get our hands upon some to ‘play’ with.

As it was, Nick came to stay with us in Rhode Island for a few days following the convention. And like all good friends, we talked for hours on end about everything: books, music, art, artists, movies, life, the universe, and anything in between. Eventually we got around to art techniques, and it was then that he told us about his golden paper and his joy in it. What kind of paper and paint he used, and how he got such great results. It wasn’t long after this, and after having driven Nick all over New England in a whirlwind sightseeing tour, that we had to drive him to New Jersey. Nick was staying with mutual friends before flying back to the West Coast from there on the Sunday, prior to going home to Sydney.

Bob and I spent quality time with other good friends that same weekend, and felt an almost beatific contentment with the world at the beginning of the workweek. It was the calm before the storm.

Tuesday morning came, and we were getting ready to go out and have coffee and run some errands before settling into some serious painting. Then the phone rang. Our friend Jay was on the line. “Turn on the TV! Turn on the TV! The World Trade Center’s on fire. It’s world war three!” Bob and I tuned in just in time to see the second plane hit the other Trade Center tower. Then the attack on the Pentagon was announced. Bob told Jay that we’d call him back. I don’t know how long we watched after that. Finally, I took the phone from my husband’s hand and dialed Australia. We travel all over the world for business and for our art, and my parents didn’t often know where we were at any given time. I wanted to let them know we weren’t in New York.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. We got some errands done, spent a lot of time trying to contact friends, trying to talk it out. And we nervously waited for word from those we knew in New York City and the Pentagon, that they were safe. Meanwhile, our eyes were glued to the TV screen and the horror. My heart went cold when the first tower began to buckle and crumple from the heat. I had some rescue training in the Royal Australian Air Force many years ago, and my reaction was instinctive. “My God. The concussion. Run. Everybody run!” We were sickened. And the sight of the ghostly silent wrecks of rescue vehicles in the aftermath rocked me to the core. I turned away, unable to keep watching the endless repetitions of every scene that the networks replayed over and over again. I had to keep moving or be frozen there, caught in a morbid trap. It wasn’t so easy to move Bob. My husband is prone to anxiety from time to time, and this hit him deeply.

We ate, and to this day I don’t know what we had for lunch or dinner. I needed to turn Bob’s anxiety around, so I wracked my brains looking for a way to distract him. Then I had it! A frantic search of cupboards, a rummage around in the paints in the studio, and a massive clearing of counters in the kitchen, and I was ready. Stepping around Bob, I turned the TV off, put on some music and announced to my beloved: “We’re going to make ‘Nick Paper’!”

And we did. Bob did so reluctantly at first, but then he started to settle into it - to be doing something practical, mildly creative, soothing, and undemanding. It was a small respite during a time that was truly overwhelming, and gave us time to think. Others would not be so lucky.

Our first attempts at making Nick Paper were crude and overworked, but the batches we’ve made since then have achieved a sort of artistry. It ties Bob’s love of paper and his favourite colour, Quinacridone Gold, together quite satisfactorily. Even after experimenting with different colour tints like Burnt Sienna and Blue, we always come back to the gold. We love rifling through the sheets we have in storage and choosing a perfect piece to draw on. Every so often I’ll come across one of those first pieces we made and remember. That’s when I tell myself, and Bob that we should call Nick in Sydney and catch up.

Thanks for sharing Nick. It made a huge difference then, and still does.

Marianne