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Tag: reading

Yellowface – Review

 BY R.F. Kuang

I’ve read great satire before. I also read plenty of books on writing and publishing. The blend of this style and these subjects in RF Kuang’s novel Yellowface makes it un-put-downable, especially for writers/authors. Allow me to make some observations: – Satire comes off best when the author appears to poke fun at themselves. Mark Twain’s prose in The Innocents Abroad wouldn’t have had the same bite if written by Oscar Wilde (notwithstanding the fact that Wilde would have been 15 years of age at the time of publication.) Yellowface’s humor bowls the reader over both because of HOW she wrote it and because SHE wrote it. Way more powerful than if written by Emily Henry who I admire as a humorous writer who has written about the publishing industry. – Some readers read satire for satire’s sake, but Kuang goes further. A well-known author once taught in a workshop that a book has to contain absolute truths (facts,) but will be remembered for its profound truth (the reader being able to picture themselves dealing with a similar conflict.) Fact: Diverse voices have been overlooked before in publishing. Fact: The industry is attempting to resolve this. Fact: If you’re not bringing diversity to the table, there are fewer opportunities for publishing work.

But here’s the profound truth that Kuang displays to readers–how would you react to these absolute truths if the changed publishing environment affected you, personally, as a writer? – I scanned a couple of other reviews that complained the translation of social media posts to the print version of Yellowface was awkward. Pro tip: listen to this book on audio! The pacing, tension, and transitions are all seamless. Here’s my take–satire makes the reader laugh but also has the serious purpose of highlighting societal dilemmas. The author isn’t obligated to solve the issue. Instead, their job is to put it into a form we can talk about. Kuang does this brilliantly in a page-flipping, fun, read. Thank you!

A Fever in the Heartland – Review

 BY TIMOTHY EGAN

Timothy Egan, author of “The Worst Hard Time” has put together another deep dive into a dark and turbulent chapter of American history. His latest bestseller, “A Fever in the Heartland,” focuses on the rise of the Ku Klux Klan during the Roaring Twenties. At the epicenter of this disturbing tale looms the enigmatic personality of D.C. Stephenson, a man whose charisma and cunning tactics eventually put him in the position of Grand Dragon of the KKK in Indiana, where he served as the chief architect of the Klan’s explosive expansion across the Midwest.

 

Egan presents Stephenson’s character as a study in paradoxes—the Klansman bore a magnetic presence, and deftly tailored his life story to suit his ambitions. His influence was monumental, and the KKK’s xenophobic, hateful ideology gained traction, mainly through his use of the age-old tools of power–violence, graft, demagoguery, and back-scratching.

 

In the backdrop of the Klan’s ascension, a seemingly powerless figure, Madge Oberholtzer, emerges as an unexpected agent of change. Egan explains how her tragic fate becomes intertwined with Stephenson’s, leading to a dramatic revelation of his true character–that of a sadistic sexual predator. It is her harrowing testimony and the trial that follows that eventually brings the Klan to its knees.

 

Egan’s a brilliant storyteller. He paints a vivid and haunting picture of an era marked by hatred, intolerance, and the dangerous charisma of a man who harnessed these forces to advance his own ambitions. “A Fever in the Heartland” is a must-read for the youth of today.

 

Why? Because although the issues might change, there will always be leaders lacking in character but swollen with ambition who will stoke the fires of intolerance for their own end. Egan calls those people symptoms of the problem, not the problem itself. That might be true, but I argue we can use those symptoms to recognize an impending perilous path for our country.

 

Watch for this: a charismatic personality who tries to use controversial rhetoric to win over the working-class/rural population while simultaneously banning party dissent. Throw in allegations of misconduct ignored by that same personality because they feel they are above the law.

 

These are symptoms of a problem. Character trumps all when it comes to leadership. If you can’t point to a leader and tell your kids “This is who you should aspire to emulate,” then you can’t listen to that same leader, even if they seem to make sense.

A Better Place to Be

A Better Place to Be

Harry Chapin tops my list of favorite writers. I know music aficionados out there are shaking your heads. No one who remembers this 20th century folk icon thinks of him as a writer first. They picture a singer, a guitarist, and a storyteller. But I’ll argue all day that Chapin’s use of tone and mood put him square in the writer category.

New writers often struggle with the basic terms. What’s the difference between the tone of a piece and the mood created? It’s simple to define—but sometimes hard to identify.

Tone is the author’s attitude about what they wrote and it’s aimed at the reader. Words like formal, angry, and humorous often describe the writer’s tone.

Mood is the feeling the reader gets when they read the author’s words. When reading Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,

“Do you know, I always thought unicorns were fabulous monsters, too? I never saw one alive before!”

“Well, now that we have seen each other,” said the unicorn, “if you believe in me, I’ll believe in you.”

you might experience a mood described by words like whimsical, amusing, or fantastical.

Chapin used words, volume, tempo, and texture to deliver a distinctive tone and create a mood for his listeners…and he did it better than most. Look at the lyrics to Taxi or play the song here. Chapin’s tone is frustration—especially when he belts out the refrain, “I’ve got something inside me, to drive a princess blind…” But the mood he creates is nostalgic sadness. The listener warms at the story of past love but knows there’s no chance at reigniting it, especially after the line “Another man never would have let her go…I stashed the bill in my shirt.” 30,000 Pounds of Bananas blasts a tone of satire, but the mood created with changes in tempo (and Big John’s humorous inputs) is comedic horror as the listener perches on the edge of their seat waiting for the bottom of that hill.

A Better Place to Be captures Chapin’s talents best. (Warning: this is one of Chapin’s longest songs, so only keep reading and clicking links if you haven’t had enough Chapin for today—otherwise skip to the end of this blog) Written in 1972, this song remained Chapin’s favorite—a story about lonely people.

Chapin’s tone in this piece is sadness—a depressing sadness. The mood he creates is one of loneliness—the desperate need for human connection. To see how he uses his music for tone and mood, you can listen to the song here. Note his changes in musical tone between characters, his crescendos (…came back with my paper bag,) and tempo (shhhhh…I know just how you feel.)

But I’m a sucker for words and want to highlight some examples of how Chapin used them for tone and mood (full lyrics here):

        an early morning bar room,” “started at his cups,” “fight her lonely nights,” and the little man not acknowledging the bar maid, all serve to create the sad and depressed tone Chapin intended. 

        Nothing creates a mood of loneliness and despair like a dead-end job where “(sic) you watch the metal rusting and watch the time go by.” Later, we see a man so cynical about his chance for an emotional relationship that he’s given up on making a friend and settled on just making a play.“…but I decided to glide on over and give her one good try.” 

        The man tries to turn on the light in the room but the woman asks him to leave it off. She can’t bear to see herself so low. But she needs someone or something as bad (or more) as the little man and says, “Anywhere’s a better place to be.” Desperate loneliness. 

        Chapin ends his song in a more depressing tone than the beginning. The waitress is so sad about the man’s story and so sad about her own loneliness, she offers herself to him. And Chapin, the writer, slyly slips from sad to cynical as the little man “smiled a crooked grin,” and agreed to take her home.

I don’t consider myself a musician (sorry, Mr. Nelson—you did your best) and I haven’t done justice to how Chapin crafted his music (outside of his lyrics) to provide tone and mood. I feel it…I sense it…I just don’t know how to describe it. But I recognize good writing when I see it. You can get away with a non-literary line like “I did not want to share her, or dare to break the mood; So before she woke, I went out to buy us both some food,” if you have created tone and mood such that the reader/listener is hanging on your every word.

Harry Chapin did that for us with his stories. Thanks, Harry!

p.s. A link for everyone saying, “but you left out Cat’s in the Cradle…”

 

 

 

The SILENT WIFE

Sticky post

Long-time Karin Slaughter fans will gobble up her latest release, The Silent Wife. The thriller continues Slaughter’s melding of two separate series: the Grant County books with medical examiner Sara Linton, and the Will Trent series with—you guessed it—GBI sleuth Will Trent. 

            My first exposure to Slaughter was through an author interview. Her comments about trying to break into the crime thriller genre in the 1990s struck a chord. As progressive as I thought those decades were, evidently publishers still considered a woman author candidly writing about mutilation, rape, and murder “in poor taste,” despite the successes of her best-selling male cohorts.

            Slaughter ignored those stale paradigms with her breakout 2001 novel, Blindsighted. Blown away by both her groundbreaking detail of a heinous murder, and by the quality of her first published novel, I immediately followed the read with her newest effort, The Silent Wife.

            Slaughter did not disappoint. Years after the events in Blindsighted, medical examiner Sara Linton teams with Slaughter’s newest protagonist, Will Trent, to investigate a prison riot and subsequent murder. An inmate who has always claimed innocence offers information on both events if Linton and Trent reopen his own murder case. He claims Sara’s dead ex-husband, police chief Will Tolliver, screwed him over years before, sending him to prison while the actual murderer continued murdering young girls.

            Slaughter pivots the story between the original murder cases and the present-day investigation, the protagonists searching for a pattern that will identify the killer who remains on the loose.

            I’ve only read two Karin Slaughter novels and argue that’s an advantage over long-term Slaughter fans.

            First, this book can stand alone outside of the series. Karin Slaughter has written 20 bestsellers that include one or both of our protagonists. I sped through this book and did not once feel that the story was confusing because I’d never read a Will Trent book before. Don’t feel you need to start from the beginning.

            Second, I suspect avid Slaughter fans take her storytelling skills for granted. I don’t. She’s got a special talent for character, plot, and gore. Her protagonists leap off the page, pursuing justice while struggling through deep flaws in themselves and their relationship with each other.

“With Will, Sara was keenly aware that she was the only woman on earth who could love him the way that he deserved to be loved.”

             The plot is fast-paced, and no suspect gets a pass until the reader rolls into the nail-biting conclusion. The gore is not gratuitous. Slaughter’s depictions of extreme violence show detailed research and she presents the scenes to the reader in a dispassionate, almost medical, manner. I’m not a gore fan, but Slaughter does it right.

            Readers looking for similar authors/titles providing the medical/crime thriller vibe that Slaughter has mastered should check out Tess Gerritsen’s Rizzoli and Isles series. You decide—start with her 2001 bestseller, The Surgeon, or the latest release, 2017’s The Bone Garden.

            I’ll rate The Silent Wife a 4.5 out of 5 stars. The acid test? I generally read two to three books at once, but when I stumble on a page-turner, the other books go to the back burner. I read The Silent Wife straight through.

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