Book Review: A Thief of Time

A Thief Of Time by Tony Hillerman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Crime, coincidence and culture clash in this tale of secrets, personal loss and theft in the American Southwest.

Navajo cops Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee once again find their paths crossing as stolen artifacts, a purloined backhoe, and a missing person compel the two men to team up in solving intersecting mysteries.

Hillerman's knowledge of the Southwest as well as Navajo ways roots the reader in the world of the story. And while his prose can be spare, it's by no means dry.

"Behind Nakai the sunset had darkened from glowing pale copper to dark copper. Against that gaudy dackdrop, two streaks of clouds were painted blue-black and ragged. To the left a 3/4 moon hung in the sky like a carved white rock."

I'm not a regular Hillerman reader, thus the sense of backstory between the two protagonists left me feeling a little like an invited guest at a family reunion. Nevertheless, the narrative doesn't suffer too badly. The use of Navajo culture to discover clues and weed out false leads lent the tale a unique flavor.

An enjoyable read and well-plotted police procedural.

View all my reviews

Story Du Jour #17

All Story Du Jour tales are available online and free! A small offering in these trying times.

Akin Bilgiç

Agni Online

"Night Beat" - by Lisa Chen

4489 words

Disappearing in Los Angeles is easier than you think.

Here's a sample of the writing:

"Lily read somewhere that the average Korean woman keeps seventeen different lotions and creams on her nightstand, like a sophisticated irrigation system. Sylvia has at least that many creams and ointments sprawled across her vanity, the bigger bottles for expansive surfaces like legs and arms, the smaller jars for trouble spots—elbows, the balls of the feet—and even smaller bottles for her face and neck.

Put Sammy on, will you?" Sylvia calls from the bathroom. Through the door Lily can see her leaning close to the mirror, engrossed in the fine-motor precision needed to apply her glue-on lashes. Lily slides Night Beat out of its paper sleeve, lowers the needle. A pop and hiss before the tom-tom of the bass. The music is like the clinking of bottom-weighted tumblers in a thickly carpeted room.

 Is there a word—German, compound and polysyllabic, probably—that describes the sensation of knowing, at the very moment you are listening to a piece of music, that hearing it again years later will instantly transport you back to this precise time and place? That’s the temporal vertigo Lily feels now, squatting in front of the record player in Sylvia’s low-ceilinged bungalow, Cooke’s voice drowning out the ambient sea-roar of freeway traffic in the distance."


A fine literary selection this week. Another genre soon. 

Raceless in LA

men health.au

All Trained Up and No Place to Run

(Unless You're Running From the Law)

Since Los Angeles has scotched all outdoor sporting activities save mass demonstrations and rioting, I find myself a man alone without a marathon. I'd set my sights on a winter marathon up in Oxnard, but, sadly, they've cancelled due to the old Wuhan Virus. 

Actually, I'm Not Trained Up At All

I was back in February, having run eight miles for the first time in over a decade, lowering my 5k time, and cross-training like a fiend on the stationary bike. But an injury and the COVID blues sapped my zeal. Nevertheless, once again on the rebound, I find that road races are as outmoded as streaking. Virtual racing holds little appeal for me. Who says I ran the time I claim?

Here is My Simple Plan

Training for 26.2 will continue. At such point as I would run a marathon, I will, instead, run from Lot K at the Rose Bowl to the Elmer Smith Bridge and back, then loop the Rose Bowl until I complete 26.2 miles. (Six laps or so.) I invite any and all to observe and second my efforts. Barring fires, floods, pandemics, civil disturbances, or giant insects, I hope to attempt this in late November or early December 2020. 

There. Now I've said. Until then, stay safe and limber.   

Story Du Jour #16

All Story Du Jour tales are available online and free! A small offering in these trying times.

Starfield Composite HD

Cossmass Infinities

"The Hard Quarry" - by Caleb Huitt

6434 words

In space, only the pirates can hear you scream.

Here's a sample of the writing:

"One hundred fifty million klicks separate Earth’s moon from the asteroid belt, give or take, and even the small Mars outpost is seventy million k from the nearest asteroids. I force deep breaths as I confront what every miner knows, in their heart: if something goes wrong, ain’t no SOS that can summon the cavalry in time.

Those distances are best case, and now is not that. I’m at least twice as far and getting farther each minute I’m out here. That’s not all. Blame a bad breakup, but when I grabbed my claim I took the one furthest from anyone else. Hell, registered stakes are 25 klicks per side, tiny in interstellar terms—but miners have always been an ornery bunch, and antisocial, and—in particular—suspicious someone else’ll find our best rocks and take them. We don’t go near each other, as a rule.

 The nearest other claim to me is a few hundred k distant. My neighbor’s not there, because otherwise her ship’d be on my console. If any other ship passes within a million k or so, they show up, at least briefly. But none appear—the absences notably including the pirates. This is my worst nightmare, worsened by the fact I’m outside my fucking spacesuit as I hotline the engines. If anything’s shittier than greeting pirates, it’s doing so buck-ass naked."

Longer than the last one I said was long, but a fine venture into the realm of space opera. Another story soon. 

John P. McCann Playlist

Now Showing on the YouTubes!!

A plump playlist of videos from sources great and humble.

In these days of riot and plague, spend some happy time looking at ME! (Listening, as well.) Unlike my TV animation Sizzle Reel, these are various interviews and video segments rarely seen by anyone, including myself. Sample selections from such sources as the Animanicast and Doug Walker, the old Nostalgia Critic.

START TODAY!

The John P. McCann (or JP Mac) playlist is up and running. See almost a dozen interviews over a career spanning several decades. Why aren't there more? Well, just because. In any case, these interviews and audio clips are fun, enjoyable, and free! What have I been doing with my life? Here's a small sample. Degust upon them.

(Or explore John's multifarious writings as JP Mac.) 

"Little Book" Review #2

You decide! Or decide here!

One never knows the sensitivities of a reviewer. In this case, my light-hearted book on a dispute over marketing copy between a New Age guru and a viagra salesman received a chilly reception. Last week fire, this week ice. Next week, hot water that's been left out a bit. Onward!

Story Du Jour #15

All Story Du Jour tales are available online and free! A small presentation in these trying times.

Welcome to the darker side of reality.

The Dark City Mystery Magazine

"How to Become a Successful 21st Century Cybercriminal in Five Easy Steps" - by James Blakey

4,115 words

Know your Dark Web as a man ventures out into the murky realm of larceny.

Here's a sample of the writing:

"The scent of Sichuan pepper filtering up from the Chinese restaurant filling Andrew’s apartment. He’d grown to hate that smell almost as much the constant yelling and bickering of the employees. Why couldn’t they a argue in English? Then he’d have the satisfaction of understanding their misery.

When he hit it big as a cybercriminal, he’d move to a condo by the beach. He’d always been partial to Nags Head. Or a country home with acreage in the mountains. Maybe both? Show off the place to his dad and sister. Prove to the old man that Andrew wasn’t a loser. And shut Margo up about her fancy college degree. 

Andrew slid open a window allowing the breeze to air out the room. On his laptop, he launched Tor and browsed the Dark Web. During a slow shift at Craig’s, a waitress had turned him onto the maze of websites inaccessible to ordinary internet users. He listened with fascination as she had detailed buying MDMA from an online drug den." 

Longer than most, but reads quickly. Another next week, I'm thinking.

"Little Book" Review

A tip of the pointed hat to Lillyana Shadowlyn over at The Faerie Review for her kind words on The Little Book of Big Enlightenment.

"In this lighthearted fictional look at New Age products and marketing, Tollhaus and his co-author snark, snipe, and leak each other's embarrassing personal information into the pages of a book alerting readers about a fantastic new method for reaching total consciousness in less than five minutes."

Lillyana awarded my metaphysical fiction novella 5 Faeries, stating, "In these crazy times this book has been a welcome break from the norm."

Available on Amazon.

Smashwords.

And coming soon in authentic little book softcover format!

Fear the corporate creep of Big Spirit!

Book Review: The Debut

The Debut by Anita Brookner
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A middle-aged academic reflects back on her lonely youth, frustrated by family demands. Bittersweet and humorous, this novel follows French literature student Ruth Weiss as she comes of age and attempts to separate from selfish immature parents.

"...she was expected to grow up as fast as she could decently manage it, and to this end was supplied with sad but improving books."

Nurtured for a time by her fraternal grandmother, Ruth discovers competence in the French language. She sets out to pursue an academic career, specializing in the writings of Balzac. Author Brookner shows an acrobatic deftness, gliding from one point-of-view to the next, handing off between characters with a fluid grace.

The imagery is rich, displayed in such passages as where Ruth describes old furniture "in dark woods which looked as if they had absorbed the blood of horses." Or where Ruth interacts with her aging mother, Helen, who "surveyed her daughter with eyes as impassive as those of an animal long in captivity."

In attempting to shape her own life, Ruth suffers a rueful moment of self reflection, wondering if she would always "react in the same way to those who did not want her, trying ever more hopelessly to please, while others, better disposed, went off unregarded?"

Despite a vague sense of time, I thought the characters were well-drawn, the dialogue neatly crafted, and the ending sad and inevitable, but seeded with wit. A satisfying read for those with a love of language and an appreciation for a clever turn-of-phrase.

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A Most Solemn Memorial Day

As a kid, I remember attending a Memorial Day parade in Wisconsin. Featured were men who'd survived the Bataan Death March eighteen years earlier. Bands played, people cheered, and the veterans, most in their forties, strolled down the street and waved. God knows what they thought of the horrendous brutality and starvation they'd undergone, or the absent comrades bayonetted because they'd collapsed with exhaustion. Still, that sunny day, sacrifices were recalled. By their presence, the survivors called to mind the fallen.

Today in the Philippines, there exists the Manilla American Cemetery. Here sits the largest gathering of Americans slain in World War II—a popular war, as such things go—consisting mostly of men killed in New Guinea and the Philippines, including on the Bataan Death March. Interred are 17, 184 dead. Also listed are the names of the missing, to the tune of 36, 286. (Among the dead are a number of Filipino Scouts.)

Here's one name from the roles of the deceased: Private James L. Aaron, U.S. Army, Service Number 14047056. Private Aaron was from Tennessee and served in the 31st Infantry Regiment. The 31st was one of the units that fought for months before finally surrendering to the Japanese. He may well have fought along side some of the men who walked in that parade almost two decades later. Starving, racked with dysentry, Private Aaron may well have been among those force-marched 65 miles from the peninsula of Bataan to San Fernando. Private Aaron may've perished on the Bataan Death March.

Today, Memorial Day seems memorable for being a long weekend and the unofficial start of summer and barbecues. Parades are reserved for winning sports teams, or, perhaps, the 4th of July. ("The dead? You mean like The Walking Dead? Seriously, dude, the dead?')

So today, just for a moment, I elect to remember Private Aaron and all the other Private Aarons who stood in the gap for our country during dark times, in less popular wars, who continue dying today.

May Perpetual Light shine upon them all.

Full Measure with Sharyl Attkisson

Story Du Jour #14

All Story Du Jour tales are available online and free! A small presentation in these trying times.

Brilliant Flash Fiction

"Michel" - by Cody Pease

677 words

Care and sorrow blend in a tale of the inevitable. 

Here's a sample of the writing:

"Days pass without warning, a monotonous routine. I lose myself in all of it. He sleeps past noon. Then I follow him as he ambles throughout the house, spraying the doorknobs and countertops, the stairway railing and armrests, wherever he lays his hands, wherever he breathes. I empty two bottles of cleaning spray within the first nine days since the hospital visit. I cook his meals: gluten-free, sugar-free, free of meat and eggs. I wash his clothes with scent-free detergent. I wash his body with only warm water, once in the morning and again at night. I buy a new bed, a firm bed to support his spine. Instead of wrapping myself around him and breathing in the nape of his neck, I keep two feet between us and hold his hand."

Soon more fiction.