Grey Angel (7)

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Grey Angel (5)

Like Water for Chocolate

The book by Laura Esquivel is the Cinco Di Mayo offering of The Bibliophile's Devotional. Yes, the photo above is a promo for the movie, but it so captures the essence of the book and the food.

The Devotional sums up the novel this way -

"Words seem to literally smolder on the page of this Mexican author's exuberant first novel. A tribute to the senses, it combines magical realism, seething eroticism, and food to concoct a sensual feast."

Each chapter opens with an extravagant recipe: For turkey mole she writes: "Fifteen days before the turkey is to be killed, begin feeding it small walnuts."

A lush novel that reaches for all your senses and it has two of my favorites in the title.

Catch-22 Redux

I first read Catch-22 in 1966. I was a sophomore in college, a fellow student put the book in my hands. I am proud to say after devouring the book, the first time, I put that same copy into another student's hands. 

For about a decade in the late 60s and early 70s, Catch-22 was my bedtime reading. I would just open the book anywhere and read several or many pages each night. By then, the Vietnam War was raging and the book took on darker and deeper meanings for my generation.

Right now I am reading Catch-22 once again. It has been at least 25 years since Yossarian and I have had a conversation. Though he and Joseph Heller's insanity are often near my mind.

I recognize while reading the book in order, front to back, that the theme is the same. Every page, every scene, every chapter. 

War is insane. The people who wage war are insane. Societies that participate are insane. Therefore, all humankind is insane. But if you attempt to escape war you are sane and you have to stay.

Being able to weave that singular message into a novel over and over again without ever actually saying it, is genius.

For any youngsters, who might come upon this blog without a full grasp of what a Catch-22 is, I offer you two explanations.

NOUN

1. a dilemma or difficult circumstance from which there is no escape because of mutually conflicting or dependent conditions.

More specifically -"There was only once catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and he could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to."

You might think that being told the same story, metaphor, life lesson, rant, rage, scream repeatedly over 500 pages would be mind-numbing. Trust me, it is not. Trust the Modern Library list of the 100 best novels, which puts Catch-22 in the top ten.

Catch-22 has become a linguistic trope in our vocabulary. How many times have you labeled some quandary a Catch-22? I asked myself that question and realized I have been writing this blog since 2007, I wondered how often I had invoked Joseph Heller's famous number.

100 Things About Me [2009]

Momentarily Memorable Books [2009]

Shared Marginalia [2011]

Online Information [2013]

The Ultimate Catch-22 [2015]

Chocolate [2016]

100 Best Novels [2010 & 2020]

Art & Literature Through Our Ages [2011 & 2020]

The Bone People

The Bibliophile's Devotional tells us "this unusual novel is woven through with dreams, myth, magic, the world of the dead, and the traditions of ancient cultures." My kindle tells me I read this book back in 2005, I may need to reinvestigate. I'm sure it was a recommendation from a friend, anyone wish to take credit?

What struck me about the write-up in The Devotional are these words of inspiration and motivation to all struggling novelists.

The author "spent twelve years writing this novel and then was unable to find a mainstream press to publish it. Published by a small feminist New Zealand publishing collective, it sold out its initial print run in six weeks and went on to become the most successful novel in New Zealand publishing history."

Grey Angel Again

Grey Angel (1)

Grey Angel (10)

100 Best Novels

[original posting August 3, 2010]

I got a call from an old friend the other day. I mean an old, old friend; someone I had not spoken to in over 20 years. Strange what parts of that conversation became bloggable. She mentioned during a long rambling conversation that her daughter, about to be a senior in high school, was on her third summer of reading the 100 best novels of all time. Having read thru freshman, sophomore and junior summers, she now expected to reach her goal (all 100) by her first summer in grad school. A total of 100 books in ten summers, a laudable feat in my estimation.

Later that night I wondered how one finds the 100 Best Novels? I tried the internet and then sent off an email: "What list is your daughter using?"

The next day I got this response: "She is using the Modern Library list of best novels."

I give you the Modern Library's own bio.

The Modern Library has played a significant role in American cultural life for the better part of a century. For decades, young Americans cut their intellectual teeth on Modern Library books. The series shaped their tastes, educated them, provided them with a window on the world. Many of the country's celebrated writers are quick to attest that they "grew up with the Modern Library."

Damn, it was that Modern Library list that scared me when I googled the 100 Best Novels. Shortly and happily, I got a follow-up email: "She is reading from the ML Board's list, not the readers list." 

I leave you without comment the top ten from those two lists. If you want to see the full 100 of each, here is the link.

Modern Library Board List

1. ULYSSES by James Joyce
2. THE GREAT GATSBY by F. Scott Fitzgerald
3. A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN by James Joyce
4. LOLITA by Vladimir Nabokov
5. BRAVE NEW WORLD by Aldous Huxley
6. THE SOUND AND THE FURY by William Faulkner
7. CATCH-22 by Joseph Heller
8. DARKNESS AT NOON by Arthur Koestler 
9. SONS AND LOVERS by D.H. Lawrence
10. THE GRAPES OF WRATH by John Steinbeck

Reader's List

1. ATLAS SHRUGGED by Ayn Rand
2. THE FOUNTAINHEAD by Ayn Rand
3. BATTLEFIELD EARTH by L. Ron Hubbard
4. THE LORD OF THE RINGS by J.R.R. Tolkien
5. TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD by Harper Lee
6. 1984 by George Orwell
7. ANTHEM by Ayn Rand
8. WE THE LIVING by Ayn Rand
9. MISSION EARTH by L. Ron Hubbard
10. FEAR by L. Ron Hubbard

OK, one comment. Who the hell are these readers?

(2020 addendum: I know who they are and I know how they vote.)

Scribophile

There are lots of writing schools, writing workshops, writing communities on and off the web. I just happen to prefer Scribophile. The basics are simple. You earn points by offering critiques of other member's work. You then use those points to post your own work in chunks of 3,000 words or less at a time.

At Scribophile you can post anything from poetry and flash fiction to short stories or chapters of your novel. I am currently reposting the first ten chapters of my novel - Grey Angel. This round of posting comes after a course of new editing invigorated by my recent online immersion in manuscript submission.

You can also participate in forum discussions on all aspects of writing or join groups that focus on a particular topic. I belong to groups aimed at Magical Realism, Novel Chapters and TLC - Tough Love Critiques. Be careful not to use these alternative activities as pencil sharpening. The site is most useful when you post your own work and write reviews for other writers. Though the periodic contests can be fun.

Let me know if you join, I'm always happy to lend a blue pen to a friend's words.

Grey Angel - First Page

GREY ANGEL

Chapter One (first page)

The water was searing cold. At 5 a.m. no one had drunk from the silver metal fountain for hours, the water had taken on a throat-numbing chill. David felt the frigid outline of his esophagus as he swallowed, he could sense the upper reaches of his stomach as the cold rush swept the oxycodone tablet down. The clock was running, in less than fifteen minutes the first warm wave of the opioid would wash over him.

He turned from the brightly lit, empty emergency room and passed through the oversized gurney doors out onto the ambulance bay. Beyond the protecting pergola the vacant parking lot was wet from a passing spring rain, he walked slowly across the staff lot towards the stairs that led to the larger upper visitor’s parking area.

A distant observer might have wondered at the age of the man climbing those stairs. Was he 70? Or perhaps 80? What arthritic disease so wracked his body that he had to haltingly and carefully ascend the staircase?

Thirty-four-year old David Iverson reached the threshold of the upper lot just as the rising sun cast a pink glow across the damp tarmac. The pavement rose evenly across several hundred feet to a stand of maple trees at the upper edge of the parking area. Up there at the top, a path led through the grove to a small corner park and his neighborhood beyond.

David began a slow, measured walk up the incline. With each step, he added a few centimeters to the length of his stride and felt the deformed muscles of his lower back stretch as he transferred his weight onto the upslope leg. This dawn ritual relieved some of the accumulated stiffness from his desk bound midnight shift spent sifting endlessly through patient charts.

He was no more than half way up the empty lot when he first noticed the figure under the trees. Too early for the local dog walkers and there weren’t any homeless in this part of town. The man was a bit too deep in the shadows to distinguish; the dawning light had not chased away the shaded area under the stand of trees quite yet. As David moved closer, he momentarily thought the man was part of the shadows beneath the trees, a not quite a fully formed figure. A few more steps and he realized the murky effect was enhanced because the stranger was dressed entirely in grey. Grey slacks, grey jacket, even grey shoes and wait what?

Were those really?

David stopped just short of the tree line.

“Very nice,” David said, in a voice tinged with mirth not quite laughter.

“Could you be more specific?” said the shadowy figure.

“Nice wings?” David replied.

The stranger came forward out of the shade and there standing just under the lowest boughs of the tree was an angel. To be more precise – an all grey angel.

Grey Angel - First Paragraph

Paragraph icon from Free Icon Library

The water was searing cold. At 5 a.m. no one had drunk from the silver metal fountain for hours, the water had taken on a throat-numbing chill. David felt the frigid outline of his esophagus as he swallowed, he could sense the upper reaches of his stomach as the cold rush swept the oxycodone tablet down. The clock was running, in less than fifteen minutes the first warm wave of the opioid would wash over him.

Coming soon, the entire first page and that's all you get of Grey Angel. Want more? You'll just have to wait for a publisher, just like I wait and wait and wait.

Of course, I didn't mean you, you can have more.

Grey Angel - First Sentence

The first sentence. An author's first and perhaps only chance to hook a reader. There are readers who stand in bookstore aisles and read only the first page, the first paragraph, the very first sentence before deciding whether or not to read on and perhaps purchase.

Here is the first line of my novel - Grey Angel.

The water was searing cold.

What is your initial reaction?

Yes, I have had feedback from several beta readers. And yes, some of them have asked if 'searing' doesn't imply hot not cold. Searing is defined as extremely hot or intense. I have considered using a less forceful word. But I am resisting the change because the juxtaposition does get nearly every reader thinking - just how cold is searing cold? So cold that it burns?

I won't make you wait for the whole first paragraph, here is the next line.

The water was searing cold. 

At 5 a.m. no one had drunk from the silver metal fountain for hours, 

the water had taken on a throat-numbing chill.