Putting the Rabbit in the Hat

Brian Cox's memoir ticks all the right boxes: a thorough but not overlong account of his childhood, the story of how he came to love acting, and a mostly chronological tour d'horizon of his career. The anecdotes are winning and the judgments are unfiltered and sharp.

Peril

This account by Bob Woodward and Robert Costa about the lead-up to the 2020 U.S. presidential election and its hideous aftermath was surprisingly packed with detailed accounts of policy and not just gossip, thus far outstripping Michael Wolff's Fire and Fury of 2018 in relevance. It is clear that no one in Trump's camp, possibly excluding a couple of lunatics, ever believed any of the false claims about a stolen election. It is also clear that no one in this camp had even the smallest amount of human decency required to publicly state this truth. The main problem is that the liars who are playing politics convince 70 million dupes to believe their lies. That population then becomes the predicate for hanging on to the lies and imperiling self-rule itself.

Face: One Square Foot of Skin

Using reported anecdotes to produce fictionalized vignettes is an effective way to get at Justine Bateman's subject: women's faces, how they are viewed as they age, and why some women feel compelled to "fix" them. The book is an urgent voice that needs to be heard by both men and women in a culture where "old" is literally yesterday. 

The Underground Man

Ross Macdonald's wicked flair with titles, first apparent to me in The Ivory Grin, returns here. Again we have Lew Archer plunged into a case with a large cast in which secrets from the past open doors onto the present. A little violence here and there, snappy patter sprinkled throughout, and a thoroughly satisfying conclusion make The Underground Man a winner.

Even the Dead

The seventh Quirke novel by Benjamin Black (John Banville) is similar to previous installments in being long on atmosphere and short on plot. I keep wondering how much would be left of these books if you took out all the cigarette smoking, drinking, and uneaten meals – not much, certainly. Quirke "falls in love" in this one in yet another lazy and childish novelistic depiction. Still, there's some good action in the last 50 pages and a satisfying conclusion.

Tapping the Source

Kem Nunn's 1984 novel, his first, is classified as surf noir, a category I had not encountered. It is a tad too expansive stylistically for my taste, but it presents a vivid picture of the Huntington Beach demimonde as the main character arrives to search for his missing sister. Surfing and more destructive behaviors lead to a solution of sorts.

Absent Without Leave

This volume by Heinrich Böll contains two long stories first published in the early 1960s. The title story is highly literary and somewhat tough sledding, about a German's experiences leading up to and after the war. Böll plays with forms here, offering snatches of headlines (like Dos Passos) and family portrait thumbnails to deepen the narrative. The second story, "Enter and Exit," is more conventional and describes a recruit's experiences leading up to the first day of World War II and his train ride home after the war's end. It is significant that in both these stories, like in much of Böll's writing, the war itself is never or only obliquely described. In this way he stays powerfully concentrated on his theme – the effects of tyranny and war on the individual. 

Breakfast with Seneca

Subtitled "A Stoic Guide to the Art of Living," this examination of the highlights of Seneca's practical philosophy by David Fideler is both valuable in itself and as a prod to go deeper into the source material. For me, Seneca's wisdom has always had the effect of a warm healing light, or a refreshing immersion in cool, clear water. When I stray into negative behaviors (anger, for example), he offers a path back to a more focused, worthy life. Fideler reminds readers that this life is accessible to all.

Sleeping Beauty

Ross Macdonald's penultimate Lew Archer novel begins with an oil spill off the California coast that sets off a complex mystery stretching back decades. There is a bit less of the snappy patter in Sleeping Beauty compared to earlier novels, and it is with some wistfulness that I am reading this series knowing that the last novel, The Blue Hammer, was touched by Macdonald's oncoming dementia. But in reading Macdonald and Simenon, "mere" genre novelists, it's clear that they know far more than most "serious" writers about human motivations and flaws.

Holy Orders

Easily the weakest of the Quirke series, Holy Orders contains a mystery that isn't much of a mystery at all, the usual obsession with describing alcohol, cigarettes, trees and rain, and a style of narrative that has characters repeatedly asking each other questions to which there are no answers. I am beginning to wonder if this installment is some kind of meta joke.