BOOK REVIEW: "The Long Fall (1st Leonid McGill Mystery)" by Walter Mosley

If there is one thing that Walter Mosley does well, it’s developing strong, flawed male characters that move the reader enough to give a damn about the outcome. From Easy Rawlins to Socrates Fortlow to the trigger-happy Mouse, each one occupies a space in the imagination that allows for the possibility that he just might exist. And that right there is the hook, that element of Mosley’s works that intrigues his audience and keeps it salivating. We either know someone who knows someone who used to tangle with an Easy-like figure, or we wish to the literary gods that our friends were that interesting. Or that resourceful. Or that true to life.


Leonid McGill is Mosley’s latest creation, a 50-something detective living in New York, whose past indiscretions have a way of reappearing whenever he commits to going straight. McGill used to handle his opponents in the ring, fighting well enough to command respect, but these days, all he seems to be doing is shadowboxing with his demons. He has a once-beautiful wife, Katrina, whom he doesn’t love or care much about, a woman with the cojones to birth two babies that share DNA with everyone but him. Her only reason for being around is a failed attempt to leave him for another man. His only reason for being around is to keep Twill, one of those other-man’s kids, from losing himself to his own demons. Theirs is an arrangement of, well, convenience, and the burden of that convenience leaves him emotionally twisting in the wind, all day, every day.


The McGill adventure starts off with the usual Mosley blast; a mysterious figure hires the detective to track down four guys who may or may not have been involved in a murder as teenagers. When the third one is found dead shortly after McGill contacts him, the private eye digs around to uproot the killer. What he finds en route to solving the case is classic Mosley: a litany of shady characters too outrageous to not be real; tainted cops only too happy to break their own laws; and double the violence found in a typical wild west flick.


The Long Fall has its shortcomings, primarily in that the main plotline lands kind of flat. The run-up itself is superb—action-packed and insanely suspenseful, and the subplots involve a pedophile taken down by a techno-savvy misanthrope and a mob-tied flunky searching for revenge. But the revelation at the end of who was pulling the strings of the four men’s deaths, and why they had to be manipulated, is a big disappointment; it’s way too far-fetched and beneath Mosley’s talent. Does that mean you should pass on this book? Not at all. Fall is still worth the time, and Leonid McGill is worthy of his boxing gloves.


--Dianha Simpson
imagineatrium.com

The Long Fall is released on March 24. Pre-order your copy today at your local independent bookstore.

Visit Indiebound.org to find your closest indy bookstore and keep your community thriving.

Acclaimed Fiction Writer Joe Hill Wants You to Love Your Indie

Joe Hill, the award winning suspense/fantasy writer of Heart-Shaped Box and the graphic novel Locke & Key is sponsoring a contest on his official Web site to encourage people to support their local, independent bookstores by purchasing items in March.

To enter, you simply need to make a purchase at any independent bookstore in the country some time in March, send a photo or scan of the saved receipt to Joe, and at the end of the month he'll have a random drawing for a SIGNED slipcase copy of Gunpowder, his rare, limited edition novella.

Imagine the possibilities for neighborhoods if every author were as thoughtful and concerned about sustaining local communities as Joe Hill is. Joe is officially our new favorite writer.

Check out Joe Hill's outstanding writing at joehillfiction.com

BOOK REVIEW: "The Miracles of Prato" by Laurie Albanese and Laura Morowitz

In 1456, Lucrezia Buti and her younger sister, Spinetta, arrived at the Church of Santa Margherita convent in Prato, Italy, somewhat reluctant to devote their lives to God. As was common practice during the Middle Ages, the two women were forced, like other unmarried or widowed women who lacked the support of a male relative, to find protection against the world’s evils among the nuns. Spinetta, who was used to being sheltered, adapted rather quickly, having accepted her cloistered fate with optimism. But Lucrezia, described as bearing a striking resemblance to the Madonna (if such a thing can be known), was resentful for having had her life decided for her. What she wanted was the fairytale life of the local merchant’s wife, Signora de’ Valenti: To fall in love with a successful man, to become his doting wife, and to fill their home with beautiful children. Ultimately, Lucrezia felt disconnected from the Order.


Enter Fra Filippo Lippi, a painter and an Augustinian monk who, like Lucrezia, took his vows out of necessity rather than in response to a spiritual calling. As chaplain of the convent, it seemed Filippo tended to his clerical duties more out of obligation to the Church and to his art patrons for bailing him out of his multiple transgressions. See, Fra Filippo was more man than monk, saddled with the very human desire to lay down with the fairer sex. Having earned a reputation for routinely giving in to this temptation, he found himself at their mercy.


Severely in debt and behind on several commissioned pieces, Fra Filippo asked for special permission to use the novitiate Lucrezia as the model for the Virgin Mary. The monk—or rather, the man—was taken with the young woman’s beauty, and visions of her flawless face took refuge deep in his heart. To Filippo, Lucrezia was the epitome of perfection, and immortalizing her beauty as the figure of the Virgin Mother was the highest compliment he could pay to his Creator. The request drew outrage from the convent—their fear being rendering Lucrezia vulnerable to the older monk’s proclivities—but the Sisters were powerless to refuse a favor for the Medici family, Filippo’s principal backer. The romance that ensued between them scandalized the Catholic Church and sullied both their reputations.


Their story comes to life in The Miracles of Prato, (Laurie Albanese and Laura Morowitz), which is wonderfully written in the voice of the time. Each chapter follows the Liturgical Calendar, giving the reader insight into the influence the Church had over parts of Europe, and the authors put forth an extraordinary effort to remain true to religious politics. The result is an unsettling—if not altogether surprising—foray into sexual and dogmatic inconsistencies. Celibacy and faith, while noble pursuits, were preached by the clergy, but not necessarily practiced with equal diligence.


An intriguing character throughout Miracles is Sister Pureza, an older nun whose hidden back story mirrors Lucrezia’s in many ways. To reveal now the similarities would be to do a disservice to the reader (the foreshadowing alone hints at the parallels in their lives), but suffice it to say Pureza’s actions are less heartless than well-intentioned. Her devotion is not unwavering—she spends an inordinate amount of time questioning her faith—and this colors her interactions with the Order. Her hope, we come to realize, is to save Lucrezia, the beautiful novice, from suffering at the hands of the Church’s powerful hypocrites.


The Miracles of Prato is a worthwhile read for those who enjoy historical fiction. The devotedly religious may not appreciate the authors’ celebration—for lack of a better word—of Lucrezia and Filippo’s scandalous, yet saccharine sweet, affair. Nor will they warm up to the “indiscretions” of the Catholic clergy. But Miracles is still an important story because it exposes the reader to the nuns’ bubble-like existence and the attacks on faith to which they were routinely subjected. Pick up the book and let me know what you think.


---Dianha Simpson
imagineatrium.com

Learn more about the authors and the book by clicking here.
Visit Indiebound.org for more great reads or to find your local independent bookstore.

BOOK REVIEW: "One Big Happy Family" by Rebecca Walker

I picked up One Big Happy Family, a collection of essays on family and love, because I love knowing the private details of other people's lives, and I love high-quality essays. One Big Happy Family satisfied both urges for me, and like all great collections, the whole is more than the sum of its parts. Editor Rebecca Walker brings together a varied group of writers to share their experiences of family – topics range from open marriage to open adoption, green card marriage to intercultural marriage. Many of the essays have themes of race and culture, and sexuality is construed as more than just a gay/straight binary. This is a book you will want to read straight through – it pulls you in and leaves you rethinking your own definition of family.

Many of the essays have an amusing but earnest tone. Nearly all are positive and strong, written by individuals satisfied by their choices and their family lives, even as they share the difficulties and heartbreaks associated with their families. Neal Pollack writes a standout, hilarious piece on being home with his young son. Z.Z. Packer's entry also shines, explaining the strange reality of having your parenthood questioned by strangers when your child doesn't appear to share your race. Liza Monroy engrosses readers in a story about entering into a green card marriage – while her mother works for the State Department. Dan Savage's essay and Susan McKinney de Ortega's also are memorable parts of the collection.

Some of the stories in the book are of a more informative tone, such as the one from from Paula Penn-Nabrit on home schooling her African-American sons or Marc and Amy Vachon's enlightening essay on equal parenting. We also hear from a proud (and anonymous) sperm donor, interracial and intercultural partners, parents of disabled children, members of large families, adoptive families, and a woman in couples therapy with her sister. As the book winds itself up, you start to wonder if there are any styles of "family" that aren't workable for someone out there. Perhaps that is the point.

With a variety of writing styles and topics that will speak to many readers, Walker's collection is a fascinating read if you enjoy the genre. Despite not quite seeing my own situation in any of the writers', I felt part of the collection – its inclusiveness made me rethink and relabel my own experiences and wonder what insights I would be able to contribute to such a collection. Midway through the book, I began to feel that it was extremely New York and Los Angeles focused, although later essays helped to mitigate that. Issues of poverty were not frequently addressed, either, which was a hole in the collection. However, with the understanding that even the most varied collection can't include everything, I thoroughly enjoyed my time immersed in other people's families.

---Katy Wischow
imagineatrium.com


Check out author Rebecca Walker at www.rebeccawalker.com
Keep your community thriving. One Big Happy Family is at your local, independent bookstore now. Visit Indiebound.org to find it.

Use Twitter to Stalk and Meet Celebrities, or How to Get a Man Date with Shaquille O'Neal

Just when you think you have no cogent arguments for people who insist that things like Twitter and Facebook are "mindless" and "nonsensical," a beautiful story emerges of how a technology like Twitter can encourage some meaningful, memorable connections and make other people's days a little brighter. Isn't that what life is all about? Magical.

Read on...

....oh and we're not celebrities, but you can follow us on Twitter if you dare.

BOOK REVIEW: "Fool" by Christopher Moore

“This is a bawdy tale…”

Gross understatement, indeed. Trust me.
“Herein you will find gratuitous shagging, murder, spanking, maiming, treason, and heretofore unexplored heights of vulgarity and profanity…””

So continues Christopher Moore’s much-appreciated warning…right before he takes his audience through the literary equivalent of Amsterdam’s Red Light District. Well, a gladiator movie set in the Red Light District, to be exact.

Fool parodies several of William Shakespeare’s plays from the viewpoint of King Lear’s court jester, Pocket, or the Black Fool, as he is better known. Pocket does his job well, which is namely to keep his boss sufficiently amused so that the king would return the favor and spare him a hanging. True to this function in a Shakespeare work, his acerbic wit reflects the license court jesters were given…although one gets the feeling that Moore exaggerates just a bit. How so? It might be safe to say that calling Lear’s oldest daughter, Goneril, for example, an “insane tart” and advising his master to “get the girls some teachers who aren’t nuns” for “fuck’s sake,” would surely have led to a real jester (or anyone else) losing his life. But under Moore’s Lear’s protection Pocket runs amok, hurling well-crafted insults at all who tick him off. For his tenacity and creativity he earns ample heaps of wrath as well as the constant threat of finding his severed head on a stick. Much like his scepter sidekick, Joke.

For those of you who may have forgotten the plot, allow me: King Lear, faced with the daunting task of dividing his kingdom among his female heirs, instructs his three daughters to profess their love for him. No, a simple “I love you” won’t do; the pronouncement Lear expects is to be verbose, grandiose, befitting the pomposity of his station. The size of each girl’s property, then, will depend on her ability to make him swoon.

With her father’s court looking on, Goneril launches into a syrupy-sweet declaration of her unrelenting affection: “Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter/Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty/Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare/No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour/As much as child e'er loved, or father found/A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable/Beyond all manner of so much I love you.” Exactly what Lear’s ego wants to hear.

Next up is his middle daughter, Regan, who, not to be outdone, lavishes praise upon her father’s thirsty ears: Sir, I am made/Of the self-same metal that my sister is/And prize me at her worth. In my true heart/I find she names my very deed of love/Only she comes too short/that I profess/Myself an enemy to all other joys/Which the most precious square of sense possesses/And find I am alone felicitate/In your dear highness' love.”

Lear, drunk off the attention, immediately turns to Cordelia, his youngest daughter and obvious favorite: “What can you say to draw/A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.”

“Nothing, my lord.”

Although she does expound on the pointlessness of the exercise by explaining her love is indeed sufficient and genuine, Cordelia’s simple statement—also meant to expose the silliness of this charade—greatly offends Lear. Her honesty, in turn, gets her banished from the kingdom, and she is sent away empty-handed.

Where Pocket comes in—aside from holding court as the narrator—is as the mastermind of a plan to exact revenge on Edmund, the bastard son of Gloucester obsessed with undoing Edgar, his legitimate heir half-brother. He includes in this nefarious plan Goneril and Regan for not only double-crossing the king but also for treating Lear and Cordelia poorly. One senses, though, that he mostly wants to stick it to them for the hell of it. “I’m not built for these dark dealings—I’m better suited for laughter, children’s birthdays, baby animals, and friendly bonking.” (189)

The genius in Fool, however, is the painstaking detail that Moore invests in this very central character. Pocket’s back story—as absurd as it is (he was raised in a convent by a Mother Superior who shaved her beard daily and was blessed with an Adam’s apple)—exists not so much to inform who and what he is at the present—Moore’s not that sentimental—but to give credence to his role as the king’s confidante. Once we learn that Lear [NOT GIVING IT AWAY!] because he [STILL NOT GIVING IT AWAY!], we understand why Pocket loves the old man so much. Even though he calls him a “decrepit old looney” and an “arrogant old tosser.” To his face.

Moore also allows Pocket a cast of characters equally inane—from a well-hung apprentice named Drool who mimics voices to randy wenches who conveniently fall out of their dresses while doing the laundry to villains who must be coached through their villainous, um, -ness to a potty-mouthed king whose stature diminishes by the second to whoring princesses who sleep with Spaniards that speak no English to rhyming ghosts who enjoy a good shag.

There’s always a bloody ghost.

Yes, Fool is bawdy, and just how so continues to make me blush. Moore’s tome is very definitely replete with “gratuitous shagging, murder, maiming…” etc. If you are of a delicate sensibility and need your Shakespeare fix to follow strict tradition, I would implore you to take a pass. Err on the side of caution, you might say. You would, however, be missing out on something special. Fool is delightful—in a sadistic kind of way—and I, as a former English major, appreciate the intelligent, goofy take on the ostentatious elements of The Bard.


---Dianha Simpson
imagineatrium.com

Fool is out now.
Buy your copy at your local independent. Visit Indiebound.org
Win an autographed copy of Fool. Find out more at www.chrismoore.com

BOOK REVIEW: "I Am Potential" by Patrick Henry Hughes

Probably not the best book for a pregnant woman to be reviewing, the first few chapters of I Am Potential: Eight Lessons on Living, Loving, and Reaching Your Dreams detail the devastation when first time parents find out that their newborn son is far from physically normal and healthy. Patrick Henry was born without eyes and with shortened limbs that limit his upper body range and make it impossible for him to walk.

I moved quickly through those opening paragraphs compelled by a vain hope that right there on page 34 or 35 a miracle would be pronounced - the doctors would realize that in fact Patrick Henry could develop eyes to see the world through and sprout strong limbs to play football with his father. But that was not the story Patrick Henry and his father would, or wanted, to tell.

Instead both father and son alternately tell the reader about Patrick Henry's path through young life --- the operations, the hope and distress, the young boy's selflessness, his courage and in particular, his passion for playing the piano.

The "eight lessons" in the book's subtitle might signal warning bells to those fatigued by the self help genre, and "I am potential" is certainly a classic self help presentation. But at least there's no lecturing here, no guided visits to the depths of your being in the hopes of transforming your soul, no promises of self realization. It's just a simply told tale of lives that would have been less than whole without the determination and open heartedness of a boy named Patrick Henry.


---Niamh Bushnell
imagineatrium.com