I love to read and consider myself a chain reader with a to-be-read pile and a to-be-read list. With more than eighty favorite authors and counting, I try to read a book by each one every year, although many times I fall short. One of my problems, though, is that I feel compelled to read everything that my favorites write. Of course, I realize that the book police are not going to invade my private library and force me to read something I don’t want to read. Nonetheless when I come across a novel by a favorite author that steps out of the norm of that author’s style, and although I balk at reading it, I usually read it anyway. Totally ridiculous, of course—the author would never know whether I had read the book in question or not—nor would anyone else for that matter. This reminds me of a friend from Illinois who once told me that Norah Lofts was her favorite author and that she felt guilty if she read a book by any other author. That was even more ridiculous than my reading everything my favorites write. Norah Lofts lived and died in England and never knew of my friend’s existence.
After years of reading for pleasure and experimenting with various kinds of fiction, I realized that I preferred mysteries of all kinds—from cozies to international intrigue to gory murders—more than any other kind of literature. However, it has been difficult to ignore certain novels written by favorite authors who sometimes changed their genre. The following are examples by three of my favorite but very different authors.
The first is a novel by the English mystery writer, P.D. James. I had read all of her Dalgleish mysteries and had postponed reading her novel The Children of Men because it wasn’t a mystery. In fact I knew it was a novel set in the future, a complete departure from the enigmatic Inspector Dalgleish. I dreaded reading it because when I pick up a P.D. James novel, I want to read a good mystery and I knew that I wasn’t going to get one from this novel. But, because I wanted to say that I had read all of her novels, I reluctantly picked it up and began to read.
With disdain I realized that it was worse than I had anticipated. It painted a picture of a dreary world without hope—the demise of human beings. I plodded on, although halfway through the book I seriously thought about stopping. All at once the plot turned in a different direction and the protagonist and his cohorts became involved in a race against time, which had me turning the pages, reading as rapidly as I could. I do love caper novels (and movies) that involve chases and running from the law and/or bad guys. As I read I tried to imagine how this bleak novel could end because I knew that the second half had to be more upbeat than the first. The author gave a rather obvious clue—Part One was titled Omega and Part Two Alpha. Despite the depressing story line, P.D. came through for me. She pulled a surprise ending that almost justified having read the novel. I say, almost, because while reading the first half of the book I seriously considered putting it on my list of the worst books I’ve ever read. The ending salvaged the book. Also, it was made into a movie and nominated for an Academy Award.
The next book I chose to read was Caper by Lawrence Sanders. I have ambivalent feelings about Mr. Sanders. I have read two of his novels that I hated and many that I enjoyed very much. I never know what to expect from him. But the title intrigued me and I began to read. The plot was very clever but I became impatient during the first half because he took his time setting up his premise, a necessary task nonetheless. Then wham!—the novel took off and I have never read a book as fast as I did that one. Although it didn’t end the way I would have written it, nonetheless I was left smiling at the end. I have now included Caper on my list of favorite novels.
A novel that I decided that I was not going to read was John Grisham’s A Painted House because I knew for one thing that it was not one of his “lawyer” novels and I assumed, erroneously as it turned out, that it was going to be some kind of sentimental twaddle. The reason that I finally decided to read it was that I learned that the book had been made into a Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation and I wanted to read it before I saw it on television. So, with misgivings, I began to read. Sentimental twaddle? Hardly. Grisham presented a world full of hardship, yes, but one also with action and mystery, plus both evil and lovable characters. The reading was fast-paced and it was hard to put it down and most surprising of all, I found the story to be, well, just plain fun.
This is not intended to be a book review or recommendation for any of the three novels mentioned here. Everyone has his/her own tastes in reading enjoyment and far be it from me to suggest that two of the books should be read and the other not. If only I could convince my inner being that I don’t have to read everything my favorite authors write. Or maybe I should leave that little voice alone.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
The Raven Tree - A Texomaland Memory
There was nothing so invigorating as my daily walks over shady lanes winding around the homes that overlooked Lake Texoma where my mother lived. Occasionally I encountered other walkers. One in particular often greeted me with, “Another day in Paradise.” And indeed it was Paradise for more than one reason. The only “crime” in this tranquil setting was the loud music coming from a radio belonging to construction workers who were building another lakefront house. One of the most enjoyable aspects of this peaceful locale, and especially of my daily walk, was encountering the wildlife that abounded here—the usual birds and squirrels plus deer, armadillos, rabbits, and, occasionally, roadrunners. And no, the roadrunners didn’t say “beep-beep” but they did uncannily resemble Wile E. Coyote’s clever nemesis.
My daily walks followed narrow roadways that twisted and turned with glimpses and views of the lake beyond. I usually followed the main road that formed a figure-eight with several cul-de-sacs branching away. Along the last cul-de-sac that I traversed before returning home, I always passed a dying tree with twisted, gnarled branches. It seemed to be the favorite morning gathering place for a group of large, noisy ravens that would squawk loudly as I passed underneath—almost reminiscent of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. But I didn’t fear them and usually greeted them with a return squawk of my own. I loved that tree—it was different from all the others that were covered with leaves. This particular cul-de-sac was my favorite part of my walk. I looked forward to greeting those ravens and watching rabbits scurrying about.
Then a tremendous storm blew through one night and the next day I arose, discovering the power was out, and that fourteen utility poles along the road to town had been snapped in two. The next day after the poles had been quickly replaced, I resumed my morning walk. There was devastation everywhere—just like the utility poles, huge trees had come tumbling down, littering the roadways. I had to step carefully. When I reached the last cul-de-sac, I saw that several of the branches from the raven tree had fallen across the road but otherwise the tree was still intact. All was still well with the world.
Clean up began all along the roadway and life resumed as usual in this tiny bit of Paradise that some called home. I greeted the wildlife as I came across it, including my noisy ravens. Then one morning as I turned down that last cul-de-sac, I stopped short. Someone had chopped down the raven tree, leaving a very neatly sawed stump. The terrain and the atmosphere had changed—there was an empty space that would never be filled. My ravens were gone. Maybe they would find another tree nearby, maybe not.
But I missed them and their tree. “Sayeth the Raven, Nevermore.”
(Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)
My daily walks followed narrow roadways that twisted and turned with glimpses and views of the lake beyond. I usually followed the main road that formed a figure-eight with several cul-de-sacs branching away. Along the last cul-de-sac that I traversed before returning home, I always passed a dying tree with twisted, gnarled branches. It seemed to be the favorite morning gathering place for a group of large, noisy ravens that would squawk loudly as I passed underneath—almost reminiscent of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. But I didn’t fear them and usually greeted them with a return squawk of my own. I loved that tree—it was different from all the others that were covered with leaves. This particular cul-de-sac was my favorite part of my walk. I looked forward to greeting those ravens and watching rabbits scurrying about.
Then a tremendous storm blew through one night and the next day I arose, discovering the power was out, and that fourteen utility poles along the road to town had been snapped in two. The next day after the poles had been quickly replaced, I resumed my morning walk. There was devastation everywhere—just like the utility poles, huge trees had come tumbling down, littering the roadways. I had to step carefully. When I reached the last cul-de-sac, I saw that several of the branches from the raven tree had fallen across the road but otherwise the tree was still intact. All was still well with the world.
Clean up began all along the roadway and life resumed as usual in this tiny bit of Paradise that some called home. I greeted the wildlife as I came across it, including my noisy ravens. Then one morning as I turned down that last cul-de-sac, I stopped short. Someone had chopped down the raven tree, leaving a very neatly sawed stump. The terrain and the atmosphere had changed—there was an empty space that would never be filled. My ravens were gone. Maybe they would find another tree nearby, maybe not.
But I missed them and their tree. “Sayeth the Raven, Nevermore.”
(Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)
Monday, April 11, 2011
Interview with Sci-Fi novelist Diane Compagno
This week I am interviewing sci-fi novelist Diane Compagno who has also written a nonfiction book about her mother’s Alzheimer’s disease, Stolen Memories, under the pen name Marie Cloud.
2) Did you always want to write science fiction and do you know what prompted that interest?
Having worked in the computer operations area as well as technical areas of a large corporation, futuristic technology fascinated me. I loved Science fiction movies and watching Nova. Often as I would watch these things a story line would pop into my head. I had a feeling at some point, I would begin to write that genre but actually surprised myself when I did write my first science fiction novel, Deadly Rains.
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Diane, it’s a pleasure to have you here.
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1) When did you realize that you wanted to write novels?
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I always loved to write, mostly poems and short stories but while I was working full time and a single mother of three, I had not time nor thoughts of doing any type of professional writing. It was after I worked for a large corporation for over 17 years that I began to think about writing again. I had often been in charge of writing and preparing newsletters for work as well as for our condo association. Once my mother, who lived with us began to have symptoms of Alzheimer's and I quit my job, I began to do a lot of freelance writing for women's magazines, articles on Alzheimer caregiving, as well as for seniors and family publications. I found I was beginning to enjoy writing so much that I started taking classes on writing and in particular I enjoyed the classes I took in novel writing. After my mother died in 1996, I was feeling very tremendous grief and began to immerse myself in even more classes and writing. As I began to address my feelings, sadness and regrets about my mother and her illness, I started to write down moments and thoughts that I had gone through during her long fight with Alzheimer's disease. I remember only being able to write about a chapter before I would be crying so hard I would have to leave the computer. Little by little these words seem to evolve into my first book, Stolen Memories. I think it came from a deep sense of healing on my part. I guess you could say it was the catharsis I needed to be able to move forward with my life in a meaningful way. I wanted to help other caregivers who may have gone through some of those same feelings, problems and issues as I had. Once the book came out, I began to work closely with a wonderful woman who later became a dear friend from the Alzheimer's Association. I began to volunteer as a facilitator for the Alzheimer's Caregiver meetings and did that for several years. This too helped me to gain perspective and move forward. We would go to Senior Fairs and she worked to promote my book to other caregivers.
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2) Did you always want to write science fiction and do you know what prompted that interest?
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Having worked in the computer operations area as well as technical areas of a large corporation, futuristic technology fascinated me. I loved Science fiction movies and watching Nova. Often as I would watch these things a story line would pop into my head. I had a feeling at some point, I would begin to write that genre but actually surprised myself when I did write my first science fiction novel, Deadly Rains.
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3) When reading for pleasure do you read only science fiction or are there other genres that interest you also?
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No, I love reading a wide variety of genres. My favorite types of books are mystery, conspiracy thrillers. I love political type thrillers such as the Camel Club series written by David Baldacci.*
4) Who are your favorite authors, past and present?
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I also enjoy Patricia Cornwell, Dean Koontz, Clive Cussler and many, many others. I also enjoy an occasional Romance novel by Tricia Lee as well.
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5) Are there any authors who have inspired you to write and, if so, who are they?
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I would have to say Dean Koontz gave me my inspiration. I think I have read all or at least most of his books. I love his use of words and the characters he develops. From there I would have to say every book I have read and enjoyed is yet another form of inspiration for me to write.
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6) How do you choose your characters’ names?
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Some are chosen from people I know but most come from a sense of who the character is and how a name will suit that character best. I have even gone though the phone book looking for possibilities a few times. Once I even came up with a name through two characters I liked from television or movies. One was the first name and the other the last name of a male character in my last book Mind Games.
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7) Do you plan your novel from beginning to end either in your head or by outline or jotting down notes? Or, are you a “pantser”?
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I am definitely a pantser. I have a story line in mind. I do however interview on paper each of my characters before I create them. I find out what they like, what they don't like, what political affiliation they might be, if they are frugal, and many other things to help me develop them in my head. Then I start to write. I try not to do more than two chapters at a sitting. I seem to have better focus when I get up, move around and then go back to my work. That might just be that I am not so young anymore and walking around gets the kinks out both physically and mentally.
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8) Do you have a set writing schedule or do you write whenever the muse strikes?
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Now that I am retired, I do not. I used to schedule writing time but these days I write more as a hobby and only do it when I feel like doing it. I no longer push myself like I used to when I was younger.
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9) How do you choose your titles? Do you have a title in mind before you start writing or does something occur after you have begun to write or after you have finished?
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My titles evolve. I usually start with a working title and rarely end up with that title by the time I finish the book. I seem to need to process the story to a certain point before I can fix in on a permanent title.
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10) Do you base your characters on real people or are they completely from your imagination?
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I would have to say a little of both. Sometimes they are purely fiction but more often they are developed from characteristics from several people I know or have known in the past. My favorite line is "Be careful what you say or you could end up in my next novel." It has happened. Perhaps they would not even recognize themselves because I may intermingle two different ideas and make one character from those ideas.
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11) Have you used real life experiences in your novel or is everything from your imagination?
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Stolen Memories is all based on my life but my other two books are totally taken from a combination of experiences that have happened to others I know, myself or an image of what I perceive could happen. On several occasions they have come from research I happen to be doing at the time. I will come across some really interesting subject and my mind seems to funnel through ideas and thoughts to add to the story line. I think that is why I love research so much.
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12) Stolen Memories is a true story about how you dealt with your mother’s Alzheimer’s disease. This must have been an emotional story for you to write and it must have been difficult to put those feelings aside to tell such an important story.
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As I mention previously in our interview, at times I could only write a page and have to remove myself from my writing. It was gut wrenching and I don't think I have ever cried as much as I did when I was writing this book. I know now what others go through when they write about such things and I have a new found respect for anyone who can actually complete a book written about such a difficult and personal subject. I will say it helped me to move forward with my life. I'm honestly not sure I would have been able to, had I not written and completed Stolen Memories.
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13) Where can readers find your books?
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My books are available at nearly all online book stores such as Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Alibris for used and out of print books and as well as many others.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Driving without a license!
When I wrote about my grandfathers in my previous blog, I didn't consider that there was another back story to "The Burglar" until my Aunt Jerry added a bit from my Uncle Mick, who was a young teenager at the time the story took place. When my grandfather left the Boy Scouts on a camp-out because he was sick, I didn't think to find out who took charge after he left but obviously someone had to be in charge of those boys--someone who could take them home and someone who could drive. But there was more to it than that, especially regarding driving. And that got me thinking. Just when did drivers' licenses come into being?
~*~
During my research on the subject I discovered that each state in the early 20th century issued them at different times. But apparently, the world's first driver's license was issued in 1888 to Karl Benz, the inventor of the modern automobile. And all along, I thought the inventor was Henry Ford! Sometimes research can bring more information than one might want. Other countries began to issue drivers' licenses before any of the American States did. On September 29, 1903, Prussia was the first locality to require a mandatory driving license and test. Other countries, especially Germany and France began to require them also. ~*~
Because there were many automobile-related deaths in North America, legislators were provoked into studying the French and German laws as models. On August 1, 1910, North America's first driver test law went into effect in New York but only applied to professional chauffeurs. In July of 1913, New Jersey became the first state to require all drivers to pass a test before they could receive a license. Because my grandfather stories both happened in Oklahoma, I decided to limit my research to that state. ~*~
The history of Oklahoma driving goes back almost as far as statehood. According to Wikipedia, "In 1912, there were only sixty-five hundred automobiles in the entire state. But by 1929, over 600,000 vehicles were being driven up and down state roads. Oklahoma had become a state on wheels, although the roads those wheels were rolling over were designed for horse and buggy travel. One clear indication of the arrival of the automobile age in Oklahoma was the shocking number of people killed in vehicular accidents - about five hundred a year by the mid-1920s." However, Governor E.W. Marland, the 10th Governor of Oklahoma, pleaded for a Department of Public Safety and he prevailed over a hesitant legislation on April 20, 1937 and by July 15, 1937 the Department of Public Safety was a functioning agency. ~*~
Now I come back to the story of Grandpa Kennedy, my Uncle Mick, and "The Burglar". If my mother (Cha) was a senior in high school when this happened, then the year must have been 1934 and Mick must have been about 14 years old. However, this is what my Aunt Jerry wrote recently, adding to the story: "The one he (Grandpa) put in charge of the boys was your Uncle Mick. At the time he was 15 or 16 years old. He drove the boys back in a lumber yard truck (a big flatbed truck with no sides, and all the 12 to 14 year old boy scouts rode there). Of course, Uncle Mick did not have a driver's license, but neither did anyone else. No one in Oklahoma had a driver's license at that time." And now we know why they didn't. ~*~
And Granddad Chancey didn't have one either when he almost drove off into a gully.
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