Do ebooks create a disconnect?

By Steve Weddle

If I see a book on my shelf, I have an easier time remembering whether I've read it than if I see the title on my library list on my Kindle page.

I hadn't really given that much thought, until Lein Shory sent me this piece about Jason Lanier's new book, WHO OWNS THE FUTURE.

To me a book is not just a particular file. It’s connected with personhood. Books are really, really hard to write. They represent a kind of a summit of grappling with what one really has to say. And what I’m concerned with is when Silicon Valley looks at books, they often think of them as really differently as just data points that you can mush together. They’re divorcing books from their role in personhood. 

I’m quite concerned that in the future someone might not know what author they’re reading. You see that with music. You would think in the information age it would be the easiest thing to know what you’re listening to. That you could look up instantly the music upon hearing it so you know what you’re listening to, but in truth it’s hard to get to those services.I was in a cafe this morning where I heard some stuff I was interested in, and nobody could figure out. It was Spotify or one of these … so they knew what stream they were getting, but they didn’t know what music it was. Then it changed to other music, and they didn’t know what that was. And I tried to use one of the services that determines what music you’re listening to, but it was a noisy place and that didn’t work. So what’s supposed to be an open information system serves to obscure the source of the musician. It serves as a closed information system. It actually loses the information.

So in practice you don’t know who the musician is. And I think that’s what could happen with writers. And this is what we celebrate in Wikipedia is pretending that there’s some absolute truth that can be spoken that people can approximate and that the speaker doesn’t matter. And if we start to see that with books in general – and I say if – if you look at the approach that Google has taken to the Google library project, they do have the tendency to want to move things together. You see the thing decontextualized.

The whole article is pretty cool and you can read it here.

And while I don't know that I buy into the whole "personhood" thing, I do dig the beats he's dropping down about how the book and author can become "decontextualized" to a certain extent.

In non-fiction, as Lanier seems to suggest, we might get more of an "absolute truth" sort of thing, but I wonder whether this is creeping into our fiction reading, as well.

If I am reading a p-book, I am looking at the cover each time I start to read it. The author's image is on the back somewhere. The top of the page might have the title of the book, the author's name. I'm surrounded by the book.

If I'm reading the e-book, I'm just looking at a few paragraphs from location 12,614. The name of the author is not right there. When I pick the book up tomorrow, I'm just picking up a blank slate, literally. Then I slide the power switch, and I'm at location 36,882, without ever again glancing against the identity of the author.

The book, the actual words of the book, are becoming removed from the packaging. I'm not arguing that suddenly you're faced with generic writing. Packaging or not, I could tell Dorthy L. Sayers from Patricia Highsmith, a hawk from a handsaw.

I suspect audiobooks exhibit more of this dissociation as you're not even reading. You just have these sounds floating around your head as you pedal your basement bicycle at too-damn-early in the morning.

Maybe the future does have us pulling away from the cult of the author.

Fighting for Peace is Like...

Yeah, what George said. Though I have a feeling he used a different word sometimes...

Maybe something’s in the zeitgeist because as I was writing this post on the weekend my friend, Adrian McKinty, posted about the same things I was going to say and said it a lot better than I can in a post titled, 15Things I’d Like to Ban from Contemporary Crime Fiction.

One of the biggest problems, as Adrian says, is, “The violence. Especially violence towards women and children...It's almost impossible to read some of this stuff and it makes me wonder how and why these authors ended up writing it.”

Oh right, of course, we’re all trying to show how awful it is. As if there’s someone reading the books who isn’t sure and needs to be convinced that horrific violence against women and children (and men, there’s plenty of violence against men, too) is terrible. Convinced in great, gory detail. Again and again.

Are we fighting for peace here by fucking for virginity?

Another point Adrian brings up is that, “There's an entirely fallacious belief out there that gets repeated all the time (I heard JJ Abrams repeating it on TV not ten minutes ago) that a hero is only as good as the villain is bad. The hero is supposedly 'defined by the villain.' This is utter nonsense.”

Yes, it’s nonsense. The greatest lesson from the 20^th century, I think, and the one we insist on ignoring no matter how many times we see it repeated, is Hannah Arendt’s brilliant insight on, “The Banality of Evil.”

We see it again and again in the cruelty of real-life serial killers. We saw it again last week in Cleveland. Nothing brilliant, just banal. And evil.

Adrian proposed the 15 things he’d like to ban, a kind of Dogme 95 for crime writers and it’s certainly worth thinking about.

I will only add one thing, not something I’d like to ban but something I’d like to see more of, something that gets repeated so often it has become a trite cliche but the older I get the more important it seems.

Don’t pander. Don’t be afraid to offend. Don’t go for the widest possible audience. Write what’s meaningful to you. Treat it as your only chance to say something you think is really important and needs to be said.

Last week I had the chance to read the pilot script for a TV show commissioned by a Canadian network about a cop-turned-professor who specializes in serial killers (loosely based on a true story, in fact). Of course, the script had a scene in which a beautiful young woman’s dead body is found in a dumpster and I stopped reading at that point and wondered how many beautiful young women on TV, in the movies and in books have been thrown out like the trash.

Hell, I’ve written that scene myself.

And who knows, I may write it again someday and I’ll convince myself – yet again – that it needs to be in the story, that it’s important, that... that I’m not just fucking for virginity.

 

Cross by Ken Bruen - an OG critical piece

When Cross first came out, was a brand new release, I wrote the below piece. It started off as a regular review and grew into a critical examination and a prediction of where the series was going and how it would end. I dug this out of the archives to share, it is unchanged and presented intact, mistakes and all.

***

Quick Take: The endgame for the series has begun.

If Priest was an examination of violence born of an inability to deal effectively with grief then Cross is a multi-faceted examination of evil. Chief among the questions asked here is whether evil exists and whether it is bred or born. Bruen easily provides an answer to the former; evil does exist. The answer to the latter, more basic philosophical/theological question is harder to answer. Examples of both sides are presented by Bruen and a valid case is made for each side of the argument. The reader may ultimately decide that the answer is both.

Cross comes across as more plot-driven than the other books of the series and less of a character study. Jack is an active participant in the investigation, which remains for the most part front and center and retains a more linear progression. This is a nice touch and reflects Jack's still relatively new found sobriety. But a less introverted plot certainly doesn't mean that it is any less hard hitting because when Ken Bruen is the one throwing the punches they hurt.

In a surprising development Bruen dangles the possibility of Jack Taylor going to America in front of us. This prospect certainly raises a lot of 'what if' type questions in the minds of the reader.

We expect a certain type of ending with a Bruen book - and in particular a Jack Taylor book - and Cross doesn't disappoint. But while the ending of Cross does pack a wallop it’s interesting that it is of a more subtle nature. Upon its arrival it’s no less devastating than the others but instead proves to be quieter in its conviction as it hits close to home.

Cross is the sixth book in the Jack Taylor series. While with this series it is absolutely imperative to read the books in order Cross is most assuredly a companion novel to Priest. A full working knowledge of Priest is necessary for even the most casual reading of Cross. So with that said, the following portion of the review is going to discuss specific plot points and should only be read by those who have read all the books in the series. You've been warned.

There are two books left to be published in the series after Cross. Typically when a series is completed you can look back at the whole thing and see how the final events started to take shape in the lead up books. One of the things that I want to try to do here is recognize the writing on the wall while its being written. I want to crack them open and take a closer look at them.

There is an interesting series of events that take place near the end of Cross that I believe may signify that the endgame has begun. Slowly the end of the series is starting to take shape.

Cathy is a specter constantly looming over Jack's life and the story itself. She will not make a physical appearance in Cross, but her presence is always deeply felt. The last time we saw her was when she suddenly appeared before Jack in Priest and swore a blood feud. Her highly focused, simmering anger chilled the veins of both Jack and the reader. The completion of her story arc will be a powerful one as certain machinations beyond Jacks control seem to have been set in motion. Cathy is now the Angel of Death and is being set up as executioner.

Before a death sentence can be carried out one must first stand before his accuser to be judged. Enter Cathy's husband, Jeff. Late in Cross he makes a brief but memorable, late-night appearance on the beach. In their exchange Jeff condemns Jack for his sins and more importantly refers to him and their relationship in the past tense. It’s a quiet, powerful moment as Jack stands before him, judged. Jack's past actions, and one in particular, the death of Serena May, comprise his Jacob Marley's chain. With the final judgment passed Jack only has to wait for his sentence to be carried out.

The meeting with Jeff is not the only scene in Cross that takes place on the beach. The ocean plays a telling part in the events of Cross, especially near the end. When Stewart and Gail are sitting on the beach he tells her "...how the sea washed away everything and then was quiet." Since Stewart is there to kill her we can take this literally to mean that her body would be carried away but given the prevalent religious imagery throughout the series we can also take this to mean that the water could wash away ones sins. In other words the ocean is being presented and set-up as a baptismal font. What's interesting about this set-up for the role of the ocean is that there is an earlier scene in Cross when Jack enters a church to light some candles for his dead and he dips his fingers into the holy water font to cross himself and discovers it to be dry. Jack is not yet ready to partake in this ablution.

This brings us to the climax of Cross, the fight between Jack and Sean on the beach. After they fight Jack takes Sean's body way out into the ocean and uses stones to weigh the body down and keep it under. Since the ocean has already been established as a baptismal font when Jack came spluttering and staggering out of the ocean to collapse on the beach his sins have been washed away. Even the locations of Jack’s injuries from the fight with Sean and from an earlier fight are possessed of a religious significance: head (crown of thorns), hands (nails) & side (spear). THIS ablution washes away his sins and clears the way for his trip to America and the promise of a new start.

I find the epigraph quote that opens chapter 22 to be interesting. It’s a line from Shakespeare's Measure for Measure: "A thirsty evil; when we drink we die." Which ties in very nicely with Cross because both works deal with the theme of the many faces of temptation and the constant struggle of resisting it. In Jack's case his alcoholism.

Maybe the epigraph provides a clue for us that there are allusions to Shakespeare in the Jack Taylor books. When Jeff appeared before Jack I found myself being reminded of The Ghost's appearance before Hamlet. There are other allusions to Hamlet buried in Cross.

More so then any other play of Shakespeare’s Hamlet has an abundance of ear imagery and references to hearing. In Cross it's Jack's ear's that plague him most. He loses his hearing and has to be fitted for a hearing aid.

Though it’s not discussed as much as the other themes Hamlet inverts the process of revenge. Others before have stated that Hamlet is an indecisive character due to the way that the plot unfolds. By asking a series of questions and examining everything leading up to a decision the expected action is continually post-poned. Cross too inverts the idea of revenge. On one hand Jack finds that he wants to avenge Cody's death but since the person who killed him is Cathy he refuses to take action. Cathy also wants to take revenge on Jack. The problem quickly becomes a Gordian Knot. What the stroke is that cuts the knot remains to be determined. It is yet another sub-plot that will be very interesting to see reach conclusion.

A prevalent theme in Hamlet is the motif of a country being represented as a body. Jack is in many ways the walking embodiment of old Galway before the economic boom. Jack's aging represents the passing of the old ways to make way for the new. From the very beginning this has been one of the most prevalent themes of the Jack Taylor books.

One of the most famous questions explored in Hamlet is the contemplation of death and suicide. Death in general is greatly explored in Cross as well and although Jack doesn't contemplate suicide directly on some level he does become resigned to his fate by his unwillingness to go after Cathy as long as he stays in Ireland. This decision one could argue leaves his fate up to chance but it could equally condemn him because he knows that Cathy won’t let up and what she is capable of doing.

When Jack became involved with Serena May in The Dramatist he discovered first hand the redemptive power of children. She provided him with a lifeline back to humanity. Serena May represented Salvation for Jack. Her death at his hands took away the possibility of Salvation and will seal his fate.

Since salvation in the afterlife is now denied to Jack due to the death of Serena May he more actively considers America as his door number three option when it is presented. Going to America is a way to side-step his sentence and start fresh. But there is a telling moment that occurs twice in Cross that indicates Jack's willingness to ultimately forsake this option. Twice Jack is invited to sit down and given the choice of chairs. Both times he takes the hardest, most uncomfortable chair. The second time it happens is with Father Jim who says to him "You don't want the easier option" and "But at a guess, you take the hard route most times." This act of taking the hard chair and Father Jim's explicit observation acts as a very subtle foreshadowing that sets up Jacks later choice.

At the end of Cross Jack has sold his home and, in that moment, is willing to leave it all behind. He has made his peace with this decision and has said good-bye to the city and to others, with one glaring exception though, he hasn't said good-bye to Ridge. He knows that he hasn't said goodbye to her and doesn't plan on doing so. One of the final acts of the book takes place when Jack is literally on the verge of leaving. His phone rings and against his inner judgment he answers it. It’s Ridge calling to tell him that her cancer is malignant. Jack, with a sigh of resignation, sits and talks to her. In the quiet moments that close the book he knows he's not going to America. Jack forsakes his shot at a new life to help his only friend that he has left, Ridge. In the end this decision will condemn him; possibly to death by Cathy's hand but certainly to the hard route that lies ahead.

From the beginning the trajectory of Jacks story arc marks him as a tragic figure whose downfall has been in the cards since the opening hand was dealt. He is neither a good man nor a bad man; he's too complex a character for such simple designations. But he has done bad things, quite a number of them actually. Redemption is still possible for Jack but it would have to be quite the act of sacrifice that would redeem him. I think that redemption and death are very possible but redemption without death is unlikely.

The writing is on the wall; Jack, Cathy and Jeff are being positioned for a final explosive confrontation that will be biblical in proportion. This literary triumvirate is headed quickly for a collision. There is now so much raw emotion, anger and sub-text tied up with these characters and their relationships that a palpable dread permeates every interaction. As this dark drama unfolds in the streets of Galway no one is safe and at least one of these characters will probably die. As much as readers love the Jack Taylor series of books a happy ending just wouldn't fit.

With nothing to suggest this other then a gut feeling my personal opinion is that the final Jack Taylor books will probably unfold in a manner similar to Malcolm Lowry's Under the Volcano. Whether Jack is Hugh or Geoffrey I honestly couldn't say but regardless how it ends it is shaping up to be one of the great finishes of all time.