Truck bought; Sausage adopted

Over Christmas I bought myself a new truck. Observe,


I'm not positive it was the smartest move, financially speaking, but it is so nice to walk out of my house, put a key in the ignition of a vehicle and actually have it turn over. It's been a long time since I had a car that I could rely on and it feels amazing. Of course, I branded it right way...


About a week into January, I adopted a cat from our intern, Karen. She had taken her in off of the street, but found that she couldn't take care of her long-term. They were calling her "DC" for "Damn Cat". I decided that "Dixie" was close enough.

She's mean as Hell and fat as a little sausage, but sweet too, in that way that cats have of being wonderful companions, yet total dicks at the same time. In fact, right now she is sitting next to me on the couch, watching Homicide while I update my blog. I just tried to pet her and she clawed the shit out of me. The world is normal again.

All Hail the Dark Lord

He's not pretty and he's not nice, but damn it if he isn't one fine actor. Mickey got a Best Actor nod this morning, folks. Hail the Dark Lord, indeed.

Book 9: The Delivery Man by Joe McGinniss, Jr.

Chase is a delivery man in Las Vegas. He delivers prostitutes. He picks them up at home or, more often, from the suite at the Palace Hotel, and drives them to other hotels or men's homes. His friends, Bailey and Michele, have rented the suite for the summer, and they pay him to drive Michele, and an increasingly large number of high school girls, to appointments. Chase knows that this is wrong, but he is hamstrung by apathy and the beautiful Michele, who he has known, and maybe loved, since they were children.

The Delivery Man, which is Joe McGinniss, Jr.'s debut, is frightfully sparse in language, and rich in character and heartbreak. It's impossible to not compare him to early Brett Easton Ellis; like the characters in Less Than Zero McGinniss's cast is selfish, self-deluded, violent, apathetic, and full to the gills with booze or drugs. His language is pared down and conveys the perfect sense of desolation that is so often heavy-handed in novels about young people frozen in life by bad choices.

Chase and his friends are all pathetic. In flash backs we learn that from an early age Michele and Chase's sister Carly were whores. Carly was Bailey's girl back then and he pimped her at a young age as he pimps the twenty-something Michele, and scores of underage girls, now. Carly is absent in the present, but functions as a full character because that absence is the cause of much unexplained tension between Chase and Bailey.

Chase is the only person who has ever managed to get out of Vegas and his sad destiny, by making a splash in the local art world, attending NYU on an art scholarship, and meeting the beautiful, intelligent Julia. But Chase could not handle New York, because he is tied to Michele and Las Vegas, so he moves back and teaches art at a local high school and pretends on the phone to Julia that he is still painting and will leave Vegas soon to be with her. He is eventually fired for beating a student, a rich thug whose girlfriend is being pimped by Bailey and Michele, and this confrontation drives the novel toward an unavoidable climax.

It is to McGinniss's credit that expected events in the novel, like the reappearance of the thug and the dissolution of his relationship with Julia, still carry a powerful sting. None of his characters are particularly likable, save Julia and Chase's friend Hunter, who manages to do what Chase can not by leaving, but they are compelling. There is a certain glee to be had when bad things happen to these stupid, selfish people. A perfect example is when Julia visits for a black MBA conference, and the vain and oblivious Michele is put in her place after trying to convince several investment bankers that she is involved in Vegas development. It is a delightfully painful scene that rings true, as we all know the joy of seeing a know-it-all and liar shut down. Of course, the biggest moment of Schadenfreude is Chase's fate. Though smart and passionate and talented, Chase deserves his comeuppance because of his inability to just fucking do something. He has options and he wastes them. For this sin, he receives a terrible punishment. True to form, the final line of the novel let's us know that, if nothing else, the bad things that happen to Chase wed him to his fate: finally, he is all in.

Annnnd, it's on!

Yesterday the collection that I've been working on for over a year, the Morehouse College Martin Luther King Jr. Collection (no comma, for some reason Morehouse doesn't like it), came open for research. The finding aid is online and we've gotten some nice press from the local paper, the Atlanta-Journal Constitution and the local NPR affiliate, WABE. I was particularly happy about the call from WABE. I'm a big NPR nerd and it was cool to answer the phone and hear a reporter's name that I actually know (and like), Odette Yousef.

Now if I can just get through the next 9 1/2 months...Anybody need an archivist in October?

Books 7 and 8: A Red Death and White Butterfly by Walter Mosley

After reading the first Easy Rawlins mystery (Devil in a Blue Dress) and the last (Blonde Faith) in 2008, I've decided to go back and read through all of the Rawlins novels. A Red Death and White Butterfly are the second and third in that series, and neither disappoints.

As you'd expect from Mosely, both novels involve a crime that Easy gets pulled in against his will by a government agent; the IRS/FBI in the former and the LAPD in the later. While putting together the pieces that the cops, white and black alike, can not, Easy drinks, smokes, loves a woman or two and most importantly, associates with the deadly Mouse, his best and most dangerous friend.

In ARD, Easy is forced to spy on a suspected Communist organize to avoid prosecution by the IRS. Since the days of DIABD Easy has invested his ill-gotten gains in property all over Watts, and the IRS is both rightfully suspicious and racially motivated to prosecute. In a deal with the FBI, Easy agrees to go under cover at a black church and investigate the organizer. In his personal life, Easy is happy and frightened to find that EttaMae, wife to his friend Mouse and his own lost love, arrive in Los Angeles after leaving Mouse and taking his son, the deliciously names LaMarque.

In WB, Easy has found a wife and had a daughter; he is also acting as father to Juan, the abused and mute young boy that he saved in DIABD. This time around there is a serial killer lose in Watts, focusing on young, black party girls, and the LAPD comes to Easy for help in asking around the black clubs that the victims frequent.

Both books follow a similar pattern: Easy gets involved; Easy gets drunk; easy gets his heart broken; with Mouse, Easy finds the bad guy and either they, or the cops, put him away for good. What makes the books special within the series is the continued progression of Easy as a character; he moves right along in his development with black America.

In both books, Easy is hesitant to get involved in the case not only because he is being strong armed, but also because he doesn't want to get involved. In WB, Easy only agrees to join the case after a white woman is killed, and he feels the guilt of not helping his community until a woman of another color died. And in ARD Easy's eyes are opened by the organizer and he learns that there is more to know about the government that hating it; without knowledge of the world and the system, he can never successfully fight it.

As essential in these books is the development of Easy as a man in relationship to women. In DIABD, Easy sleeps with close friend's woman while his friend is passed out in the next room. This is not the man that you meet in last year's Blonde Faith. The later Easy doesn't drink, or cheat or avoid his responsibilities to black folks or Watts. In ARD and WB, Easy is learning how to be a man. The Easy of WB starts off as someone who laughs when his wife accuses him of rape, because he doesn't believe that a man can do that to his wife and that when she says "No", she really means "Yes". By the end of WB, that Easy no longer exists. It's not just that he's been hurt, but that he now sees women as more than possessions and outlets for lust.

Despite his flaws (misogyny, drunkenness, and an irresponsibility toward his own children that borders on the criminal), Easy is intensely lovable, as is the evil Mouse. I'd be hard pressed to think of another more compelling duo in modern literature, particularly since the kind of business that Easy and Mouse get up too, whoring, drinking and violence, is so close to my own heart. Beyond that, Mosely's style is irresistible. It's a gumbo of street slang from various eras, country talk (as most of Watts' residents are transplants from Texas or the Deep South), and brilliant insight. There is also plenty of sex and, as I've mentioned on this blog before, Mosely's sex scenes are intense and sweaty and oftentimes the best parts of the books. It is no wonder that in 2008 Mosley also released an erotic novel.

To put it briefly, the Easy Rawlins novels are worth your time. They are carefully crafted, intelligent, sexy and compelling and unlike many likable series of detective fiction, the plot of each book is important in the sense that Mosely fits it into a larger period of American history. Spanning two decades in Watts, these books are miniature histories of American blackness. And baby, they are beautiful.

The Best Thing That has Ever Happened to Me

Linda Blair and Dean Wormer? My life has been empty up until this point.

Book 6: Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World, Vicki Myron with Bret Witter

I am unembarrassed to admit that I read, and cherish, the website “Cute Overload”. I breeze by “I Can Has Cheezburger”, “Cats in Sinks”, “My Cat Hates You” and various other sites full of adorable animals every few days. I cry at stories about heroic, lost or abused animals and barely made it through a recent visit to the Atlanta Humane Society. I am a sucker for cats, and therefore a sucker for books about cats.

I’m also a library employee. I went to what is generally known as “library school”, and although I am not a librarian (I’m an archivist, damn it!), I do work in a library and my field shares the philosophy and code of public service that is at the core of librarianship. For these reasons, it seemed that Vicki Myron’s current bestseller, Dewey, was made for a reader like me. Unfortunately, the sweetness of Dewey’s story is almost completely obliterated by Myron’s style and clumsy philosophizing.

Vicki Myron was head of the Spencer (Iowa) Public Library for 25 years. She is the kind of women who values family, public service and has a deep and abiding love for the town of Spencer and the state of Iowa. One cold December morning, the coldest of the year, Myron and another library employee found a tiny orange kitten shoved in the library book drop. The kitten was almost frozen, with frostbite on each paw, and Myron, with the help of her staff, nursed the kitten back to help. They named him Dewey Readmore Books and he became the country’s most famous library cats.

Myron’s book is primarily a chronicle of Dewey’s life, focusing on his mannerisms and habits and the ways in which they pleased library staff, patrons and visitors from all over the world. Dewey was clearly a special cat, in that he was extremely good with people, particularly children. I felt myself close to tears at the story of Dewey’s rescue, and only a monster wouldn’t be touched by the story of Crystal, a nonverbal girl without the ability to move her limbs or head, who would squeal with delight when Dewey would jump up on her wheelchair for a puppeted petting and then willingly sleep zipped inside her jacket.

Despite these stories, I was annoyed by Myron’s narration. The book is as much about the town of Spencer as it is a bout Dewey; Iowa was in economic crisis when Dewey was found, and his slowly growing fame not only brought the town together, but helped increase tourism to a severely depressed area. However, Myron is ill-equipped for any deep analysis and incapable of seeing beyond the borders of Iowa to the hard times that hit all over the country in the 1980s (my own father lost his contracting business when construction went bad in Texas). Her tone is frequently defensive; Myron seems to think that the rest of the country does nothing but mock Iowa and Middle American values as we swill out martinis and enjoy the unearned good life.

The third big story in the book is Myron’s own biography. We learn about her hardscrabble childhood, disastrous marriage, poor relationship with her daughter, and many, many illnesses, including her own breast cancer and cancer in members of her immediate family. At many times these episodes seem like filler; at others they are opportunities to tell other Dewey stories, but they are always also object lessons about the strength and upstanding morality of Iowans.

In addition, Myron has a severe case of “Precious Moments” disease when it comes to her own relationship with Dewey. As much time as Dewey would spend with patrons, other library staff, and even her own daughter, Myron is convinced that he really only loved and communicated with her. Last October I lost my own precious kitty to lung cancer. That’s her photo at the top of this post. Her name was Sparkle and I was devastated by the loss.

Like Myron, I felt like my relationship with my cats was special, and I wallowed in guilt that I had not noticed (or understood) the early signs of her illness. I completely understand how much an animal can mean to a human and I empathize with Myron, but Myron’s convictions are off-putting. When an elderly Dewey makes his last trip to the vet (it’s not a spoiler; you know from the introduction that this moment will come), she is hurt that Dewey would keep his sickness a secret from her. This is just the most egregious example of Myron attributing human-like qualities to Dewey. It makes her less of a professional relating a history and more of a stereotypical crazy cat-lady librarian. It hurts a story that is both touching and inspirational, set in a time and place that is ripe for more serious analysis.