The Irish keep defining dark comedy in books and movies

Blame my errant imagination.

As I read "Glorious Exploits," a new novel by Irish writer Ferdia Lennon, I kept hearing Roddy Doyle. Not that Lennon is copying Doyle's distinctive Irish patter, but the way the two main characters spoke and approached life conjured Doyle's Barrytown Trilogy, specifically "The Commitments." Jimmy Rabbitte's mission is to bring the soul music of Sam Cooke, Wilson Pickett, and Otis Redding to 1990 working-class Dublin. The mission is doomed from the start but boy is it a fun ride. 

In "Glorious Exploits," unemployed potters Lampo and Gelon want to stage a Euripides play in 412 BCE in  Seracuse, Sicily (Syracuse now. in both Sicily and N.Y.). They decide to enlist a cast of starving Athenian warriors whose invasion has been defeated and the captured, starving, warriors imprisoned in a dismal rock quarry. Why starving Athenian players? Because the duo's favorite poet is Euripides of Athens and these Athenians are the only ones in Seracuse and they just happen to know The Master's latest work that includes Medea and The Trojan Women. Their quest is doomed, of course. But boyo, it's a fun ride, no bollix.

Irish writers tingle my Irish genes. I have never been to my grandfather's country nor to his rural county of Roscommon. But I've read their best writers and they live in me. Doyle, Yeats, Maeve Binchy, Flann O'Brien, James Joyce all tell wonderful stories grounded in Irish wit and lore. The Irish story is riven with heartache. The latest Irish-set movie, "The Banshees of Inisherin," focuses on a long male friendship that breaks up for unfathomable reasons and leads to tragedy in 1923. There are laugh-out-loud moments, a dose of charm, memorable Celtic music, and then the ending when doom shows up. Meanwhile, the Irish Civil War, where neighbor kills neighbor, wages across the newly-formed country. These two friends' relationship is doomed. But the telling is marvelous. 

It's the voice, nurtured over the centuries. Lennon has found it. In an interview, he says that he wanted to make sure that the book did not have that Merchant Ivory voice of serious dramas of the Classical Age. He succeeded. Lampo and Gelon are  Sicilian-Irishmen on a lark, spending most of their time chatting over flasks of suspect wine at Dismas's place. Must hand it to Lennon. Many sickening things going on in Seracuse. Wine is the only answer. But the author describes in detail the wine they drink and you will thank Dionysus for the local Tiki Bar (we have several here in Ormond Beach). It's illuminating to hear lines of Euripides from the lips of emaciated Athenians, all wearing leg shackles, dressed in ill-fitting costumes and gowns. There is a performance and I won't tell you how it ends once the curtainless stage is cleared. And there is a surprise ending which is very sweet.

I have to admit that the book's cover grabbed me. It's a traditional bust of the historian and philosopher Herodotus with googly eyes. 

Lennon was the subject of a Q&A interview in the Aug. 31, 2024, Observer. I include an excerpt here because it speaks to Ireland’s rich literary tradition and info about how contemporary Irish writers are supported by their Arts Council. I worked with writers for 25 years at the Wyoming Arts Council and for two years assisted with creative writing fellowships at the National Endowment for the Arts in D.C. It’s instructional in a time when the NEA, the NEH, and the Institute of Museums and Library Services are under the gun by Trump, Musk, and their techie minions who wouldn’t know James Joyce unless you wacked them on the head with a hardcover edition of “Ulysses.”

The Guardian's book critic wrote a review of "Glorious Exploits." Header: "Uproarious am-dram in ancient Sicily." I had to look up am-dram and it's British slang for amateur drama, those plays put on by your local community theatre.

From the Guardian:

Q: How do you explain the current wave of successful Irish novelists? 

A: I remember that when I was a student, James Joyce’s house was five minutes up the road: just seeing that plaque, there’s something nice about having that literary history celebrated around you. On a practical level, the structures in Ireland make it easier for writers. An Arts Council grant helped me write this book. I wasn’t in any way established, but you could submit a work in progress to a panel of your peers and if you’re lucky, you might get money that will give you a couple of months that could be the break. I feel part of the burgeoning moment in Irish literature has to do with the financial crash. A whole generation was devastated, in Ireland maybe more than most. There were no jobs, so you felt freer to do what you wanted, even if it made no money; I started writing in Granada [in Spain] while unemployed.

Naomi Hirahara weaves a murder mystery into a 1940s historical novel and it's swell

Just when I think I’ve read every World War Two-era novel….

“Clark and Division” by Naomi Hirahara brings us into the life of Aki Ito. She’s a spirited young woman, smart and attractive and a bit self-conscious living in her talented older sister’s shadow. She yearns for just the right job and boyfriend, likes to hang around with friends, and knows how to dance the Lindy Hop.

So, she’s just like any other Southern California teen. But you add in the setting conjured by Hirahara and things get serious. Aki is Nisei, born in the U.S. of Japan-born parents. In 1942, her entire family is shipped to Manzanar internment camp, leaving behind their home and property and all-American dreams. Aki spends two years at Manzanar and, at 20, lucks out when selected for the government resettlement program which allows Nisei to move to middle America away from the coasts and start new lives. Aki chooses Chicago because that’s where her sister Rose has resettled. Before Aki and her parents can get off the train, her sister is dead, ostensibly by suicide. She allegedly jumped head-on into an El train and is killed instantly. Nobody knows why. Aki is crushed.

A great set-up for a mystery. Aki is still in shock when she discovers the secret behind Rose’s death and realizes she seems to be the only one interested in figuring out what really happened. She plods along at first but then discovers the strength to take the risks that will solve the case. Along the way, we meet the Nisei of the Clark and Division neighborhood. She has to hide her quest from her very traditional Issei parents. Along the way, we learn about Japanese-American lives, the foods they eat, their jobs, their dreams and fears. The most charming thing about this book are life’s daily details. Hirahara writes the Japanese terms for food, clothes, and many other things. I felt the crushing heat of a Chicago summer. I know how people got around in the city. Some especially good details about riding the El or Elevated Train. I got to see the workings of the famous Newberry Library. I know, the details of a library aren’t exactly high drama. But maybe they are. All this makes the book so down-to-earth and thrilling.

The ending is heartbreaking but also guides Aki into the future. And into the just-published sequel, “Evergreen.” In it, Aki has become a nurse’s aide and returns to southern California where she and other Japanese-Americans have to start from scratch – again. There’s also a murder, of course. While the book is listed under mystery, I’m sure it’s filled with the cultural and location detail that also makes for great historical fiction. Hirahara now has a series on her hands which she’s done before with her earlier books: Mas Arai and Leila Santiago. "Evergreen" is now the second book in the Japantown Series. I’ve ordered a copy. You should too.

Saturday Morning Round-up: Snow arrives -- finally -- and "Stay Close" keeps you guessing

Saturday Morning Round-up:

I’ve been interviewing the recipients of the 2021 Governor’s Arts Awards. These are the awards given annually by the Wyoming Arts Council for "substantial contributions made in Wyoming that exemplify a long-term commitment to the arts," Recipients include intriguing artists and very interesting people running arts organizations. Sometimes the person running the arts org is an artist, That artist continues to make art while promoting the arts in their community. It’s a time-consuming task, one that pays very little. But real people keep doing it. Read the articles in the next issue of WAC Artscapes. 

Just finished watching the eight-episode Netflix series “Stay Close” from the novel by Harlan Coben. Kept my attention through all the twists and turns. Surprise ending. The murderer is a character I didn’t suspect. The series is set in an English town surrounded by lots of water which figures into the plot in ways major and minor. Coben’s novel, as are most of his works (including scripts for the "Fargo" series) is set in the U.S. It’s a funny thing to watch a murder thriller transplanted to England. It’s almost as if we don’t expect people to die gruesome deaths in the land of Downton Abbey, stiff upper lips, and way too much tea-drinking. It’s also the home of Jack the Ripper, Sweeney Todd and inventive ways to torture and kill those who have ruffled the king’s feathers. Its staid demeanor helps make throat-slitting and gang-style executions stand out. Some inventive killing goes on in “Stay Close.” Keeps you guessing. Watch it.

Jan. 6 marked the anniversary of the 2021 Capitol Insurrection. While the Democrats in Congress, the president, and TV hosts made a big deal out of it, Republicans were nowhere to be seen except on Fox and some loony right-wing outlets. For those of us in the reality-based world, the attack on the Capitol was an attack on democracy. Repubs don’t see it that way. A few do. Wyoming Rep. Liz Cheney does. Her pops too. They were the only GOPers that attended the Congressional prayer service on Thursday. I know, Dick Cheney to war criminal standing up for what’s right? It was rich in irony seeing his masked face. But Rep. Cheney is one of two Republicans serving on the Jan. 6 Commission. She’s also blasted Wyoming GOP leadership as deluded radicals leading the party down a dangerous path. I’m no fan of the Cheneys. But when people do the right thing, you have to thank them.

We’re finally getting some snow. November was almost snowless but we started catching up with the season on Christmas Eve and the ground is covered as I write this. Ski areas that delayed opening are now chest-deep in the stuff. I am closer to most Colorado ski areas than I am to Wyoming's Jackson Hole Mountain Resort. But JHMR reports some incredible snow amounts on its blog this morning:

As of January 8, since New Year's Day, we have received 63"! We received 42" in the last 48 hours. As of this morning, we received 24" in 24 hours. Total snowfall is now 240" on the year.

Damn. Most Colorado ski areas have received half of that. For the record, Cheyenne at 6,200 feet elevation receives about 60 inches of snow in an average year. Last year was one of extremes when we received half our total in one March blizzard. If we received 240 inches of snow, we would be digging tunnels to our cars and those tunnels would be pointless because the city would be waiting for the sun to come out for the its primary snow removal tactic. And waiting.

Art and writing share a sense of mystery

My colleague Sue Sommers in the Studio Wyoming Review group opened up her latest review of an art show with this writer's quote: 

“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.” —Joan Didion, “Why I Write” (1976, the New York Times Book Review)

This is a theme that I've stressed with student writers over the years. It's a cousin to a quote by Flannery O'Connor: 

“I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say.”

Before I spent a lifetime as a writer, I would have disagreed with these quotes. "I'm good. I know what I think -- it's right here in my head." I wasn't mature enough to understand what Didion and O'Connor were saying. 

The act of writing is a transition. The idea is a bit of ether, an unformed thing in our mind. Writing transforms what is in my head to another thing altogether. Writing, also an act of translation, gives shape to the idea. Sometimes, results surprise us. We also may be frustrated when the results don't seem quite right. 

It's not just the mind at work. It's also heart and soul, bloodstream and gut. The entire human ecosystem gets into the act.

This is what is so hard to explain to student writers. What is this thing that you are trying to tell me? Reach deep. What does it feel like? What does it smell like? Use your senses. 

My daughter Annie was writing a composition paper on sexism. She knew I had taught a lot of college composition classes. I read it, encouraged her to dig deeper. She wasn't really having it as the paper was due to next day. She insisted that she had satisfied the assignment and I couldn't really argue with her. The professor gave her paper a 90 and she was disappointed. I said nothing.

What could I say? I've spent decades in an effort to unravel my thoughts for the printed page/computer screen. I know the tricks of the trade. In the end, I'm not sure exactly what happens to turn the scrap of an idea into a finished story, novel, or blog post. I'm rarely satisfied with the result. But I keep at it because there's no way I can give up the pursuit. It's part of me.

Sue Sommers' review of "Bold Wanderings" at Pinedale's Mystery Print Gallery points out some of the traits and mysteries of creativity, whether you be artist or writer. Read the review for details (link at the top).

Never fear -- the world will never run out of material for fiction writers

I read Adam Johnson's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel about North Korea last spring. "The Orphan Master's Son" is a humorous and harrowing look inside a country that most of us know through occasional TV clips that show the ridiculous-looking Kim Jong Un viewing a military parade or inspecting a missile site. The West lampoons him often, yet he still holds an iron grip over his citizens. Dennis Rodman visits occasionally, as The Great Dictator is a roundball fan. North Korea is is a great example of what an authoritarian regime can do once its power is institutionalized.

The latest stunt by North Korea is horrific. The country returned a comatose Otto Warmbier to the U.S. a week ago. Warmbier spent 18 months in a North Korea prison for stealing a propaganda poster from a wall. He supposedly wanted a souvenir. What he got was torture. U.S. officials tried to get him released but North Korea just relented when Warmbier was on his deathbed. An Ohio coroner has decided to investigate the case.

I saw a photo of his parents online. The looks on their stricken faces said it all. This wasn't supposed to happen... That could be and my wife standing there. We've experienced those 3 a.m. phone calls. None involved capture and torture and eventual death. But we know the look. The life of our child wasn't supposed to be like this... Will someone please explain this to us...

We are left with what could be the plot of a novel. A young American student gets more than he bargained for during a trip to N.K. He dies under mysterious circumstances. Trump bloviates. Kim Jong Un goes into hiding, fearing a decapitation attack by the U.S. and South Korea assassins. Could be fiction but it's not. It throws Johnson's novel into relief. Absurd and awful things happen to its North Korean protagonist, who has an orphan name but is not really an orphan.

What is fiction and what is fact?  We now have a billionaire reality TV star for president. He tweets nonsensical statements. Republican congressional reps draft major legislation in secret -- and lie about it. They are afraid to hold public meetings in their districts because people keep yelling at them. Our attorney general wants to recriminalize marijuana and return to those golden days of yesteryear when men were men, women were in the kitchen and everyone was afraid of  colored people. The Trumpists work hard to erase any record of our black president's eight years in office.

The world is so confusing. It can be a brutal place for a 22-year-old college student who takes one wrong step.

This makes it a fantastic place to be a writer.

How else can we make sense of it?

Poe Ballantine puts Chadron on the map, and some are not too happy about it

I don't often attend a literary event that has its own security detail.

Face it -- it's not often that writers get death threats. There was that Iranian fatwa against Salman Rushdie, a threat that forced him into hiding for a decade. It had expired by the time I heard him talk in Laramie a few years ago.

A well-armed deputy sheriff was on hand at the Literary Connection on Saturday at LCCC in Cheyenne. I asked him if there had been a threat. He replied that the college was only interested in being prepared for all eventualities.

At the podium were author Poe Ballantine of Chadron, Nebraska, and filmmaker Dave Jannetta of Philadelphia. They spoke in turn about a the mysterious case of a Chadron State College professor, a neighbor to Ballantine. His body was found out on the prairie. It was bound and horribly burned. Local law enforcement ruled it a suicide. Ballantine originally agreed. After investigating the case, he eventually decided that it was a murder. He wrote a book about his six-year saga of discovery, and Janetta is working on a documentary about it.

The book is "Love and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere." I began reading my signed copy yesterday evening and can't stop. Not only is Ballantine a fine writer. But wind-whipped Chadron and its residents are interesting characters on par with Savannah and the people portrayed in John Berendt's best-seller "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil." Who knew Chadron (pop. 5,844 -- a bit smaller than Torrington, WY, a two-hour drive across the border) could be so damn interesting?

Leave it to a writer.

And then there's the murder. In 2006, CSC math professor Steven Haataja disappeared. More than three months later, the man was found burned to death and tied to a tree in the hills behind the campus. Police were stumped. They finally ruled it a suicide. Ballantine, a novelist and essayist, was not particularly interested in writing a true crime book. But, during his short time in Chadron, he got to know most of the people involved -- so he jumped right in.

The first part of "Love and Terror" is devoted to Ballantine's itinerant life. The writer had spent his adulthood knocking about the country, working odd jobs and trying to establish a writing career. He'd been pretty good at the first two. The third? Not so much.

Until recently. With five books to his credit with the upstart Hawthorne Books & Literary Arts in Portland, Ballantine's career is on the move. Although he and his family are staying put in Chadron, despite the death threats.

Haataja's family wants the dead to stay buried (see Ballantine's posts on the Hawthorne Books blog and read the comments). The police want the case off of their to-do list. The town fathers and mothers don't think that murders are the proper promotional schemes for tourism (although they may be wrong about that). Its motto invites to come to town and "Learn The History. Explore The Bounty. Firsthand." And the college? It may have a harder time drawing math professors to campus.

I'm not sure why I'm blogging instead of reading Ballantine's fine book. So I'm going to remedy that right now.

One more thing: Jannetta played us two clips from the film on Saturday. He's raised $33,000 on Kickstarter to do post-production work. He hopes to get it into some film festivals. Let's hope there's a screening in Chadron. The town's kooky population deserves to see itself up on the big screen. Find out more at "Love and Terror the Movie."

Cuddly jackalopes have a dark side

Thousands of tourists buy those cuddly plush toy jackalopes every summer as they cruise through Wyoming. These cutesy-pie jack rabbit/antelope hybrids are ubiquitous in gift shops from Cheyenne to Jackson and everywhere in between. Douglas, of course, is the animal's ancestral home and the city's mascot, with a neat downtown statue and thousands of artsy jackalopes embedded in a new North Platte River Bridge.

A bill wending its way through the 62nd Wyoming Legislature would make the jackalope the state's official mythical critter. That's fine. But the animal also has a dark side, one that's been celebrated in music by Steve Earle, the Supersuckers and Wyoming's own Gary Small and the Coyote Brothers. Steve Earle's "Creepy Jackalope Eye" offers these chilling lyrics:

I got a jackalope face
I'm a jackalope guy
And I'm staring you down
Creepy jackalope eye

Is it so hard to imagine
Is it so hard to believe
Something so outrageous
Something so far fetched
Well how 'bout adam and eve?

Gary Small's "Snaggle Tooth Jackalope" deserves a little respect as it preys on unsuspecting turistas:

16 motor homes are still missing
Not a trace of human parts was ever found
Just a bloody boot and a shred of Bermuda shorts
On top of a prairie dog mound.
Tourists beware of the snaggle tooth jackalope
A cold-blooded killer...

Yikes.

Local blogger interviews Wyoming author Craig Johnson about his books and upcoming "Longmire" A&E series

Craig Johnson's latest
Walt Longmire mystery
 debuts May 15.

Cheyenne writer Karen Cotton interviewed Ucross, Wyoming, mystery writer Craig Johnson ("The Cold Dish," "Another Man's Moccasins") for a story on her new blog. She got some great quotes. Here's one with Craig describing his ongoing main character, Absoraka County Sheriff Walt Longmire:

“I was looking for an individual that would be emblematic of the American West, but still complex enough to be compelling to readers,” Johnson said. “Walt is, what I refer to as, a detective for the disenfranchised; he cares about the cases that no one else does. He’s an elected official that’s responsible to his community and I like that better than the ‘lone-wolf’ style characters that kills forty people before the book is over. Walt is a little ‘over’—over age, over weight, overly depressed, and facing a lot of the things that the readers face every day and I think that keeps him real.”

The sheriff (portrayed by actor Robert Taylor) will star in a new TV series on A&E, "Longmire." It debuts June 3.

Read more at Karen's blog: http://lifeisassweetascottoncandy.wordpress.com/2012/04/29/new-york-times-bestselling-author-craig-johnson-dishes-about-his-new-tv-series-on-ae-and-his-latest-book/

Robert Greer's "Astride a Pink Horse" explores the twisted legacy of Wyoming's atomic era

Robert Greer

Robert Greer left Gary, Indiana, as soon as he could to attend college and eventually become the only international cancer specialist and best-selling African-American mystery writer to raise cattle in Platte County, Wyoming.

Not a bad claim to fame.

Robert has a new book coming out in March 2012:

ASTRIDE A PINK HORSE North Atlantic Books Hardcover: March 27, 2012, ISBN-13: 978-1583943694 

The Cold War ended years ago, or did it? 

For Thurmond Giles, a decorated African American Air Force veteran found dead, naked, and dangling by his ankles inside an entry tube to a deactivated minuteman missile silo in desolate southeastern Wyoming, the answer is no. The labyrinthine investigation that follows, led by Air Force fighter pilot Major Bernadette Cameron and ex-college baseball phenom-turned-reporter Elgin "Cozy" Coseia, reveals how the atomic era's legacy has continued to destroy minds and lives. 

Set in contemporary times, Astride a Pink Horse follows Bernadette, Cozy, and Cozy's eccentric boss Freddie Dames as they match wits with a gallery of unforgettable murder suspects: a powerful, politically connected cattle rancher, long bitter over government seizure of his land for defense purposes and the expulsion of his son from the U.S. Air Force Academy; a declining 76-year-old WWII-era Japanese internment camp victim and her unstable math professor nephew; an idealistic lifelong nuclear arms protestor; and a civilian Air Force contractor with a 20-year-old grudge against the murder victim. Do three amateur detectives stand a chance against these characters and the conspiracy that may be behind it all? 

Robert Greer's trademark mix of vivid eccentrics, surprising plot twists, and political edge makes this one of his most memorable thrillers.

"Science is the Poetry of Reality"

Thanks to Ellie Chamberlain and Kevin Shay of Tucson for referring me to this beautiful vid about "real poetry in the real world."

Hummingbird Mind: My son Kevin, the climber

To commemorate ADD/ADHD Awareness Week (Sept. 14-18), I offer this essay, "We Are Distracted," which in a slightly different form appeared in the 1996 book In Short: A Collection of Brief Creative Nonfiction, W.W. Norton, edited by Judith Kitchen and Mary Paumier Jones.)

I. WE ARE DISTRACTED

We are distracted by the agility of my eight-year-old son Kevin as he clambers up the slick granite rock formation near Rocky Mountain National Park. He is fifty feet above us; we are a bit frightened by the risks he takes, the way he clings like a human fly to the sides of the rock. We all look up and watch one of Kevin's handholds become a fingerhold and just when it's about to become a no-hold, he pushes off the rock with his feet, leaps a three-foot gap between spires, and wraps his arms tightly around the precious purchase he has made with this part of the Rockies.

We are like three slugs on a slab -- Kevin's classmate Freeman, his father Randy, and I. We lean against the cool rock surface of this six-million-year-old mountain and watch Kevin. We look up and Kevin never looks down. It would break his concentration, interrupt his communion with the rock, I think. To concentrate is everything for Kevin. He can't do it for extended periods of time unless he is under the influence of Ritalin, a drug that helps him control his hyperactivity-inspired impulsiveness. Right now as he climbs toward the sharp blue Colorado sky, the Ritalin, a central nervous system stimulant, is working on my son's brain stem arousal system causing to not be aroused. Medical researchers are not sure why a stimulant has the opposite effect on hyperactive kids. Says the 1994 Physician's Desk Reference: There is no "specific evidence which clearly establishes the mechanism whereby Ritalin produces its mental and behavioral effects on children, nor conclusive evidence regarding how these effects relate to the condition of the central nervous system."

II. HYPER/ACTIVE

When Kevin is in the classroom and a bird flies to a branch on a tree across the street, he will stop everything and look at the bird. A whispered comment at the opposite end of the classroom might as well be a sonic boom. If he is surrounded by too much energy in his orbit, he absorbs the energy. It sometimes causes him to twist and whirl and slam into his playmates; not so much now as when he was toddler and his way of playing was FULL BODY CONTACT. Slam, bam - and there was suddenly a kid crying, one nonplused Kevin and usually a very pissed-off parent, who soon would be in my face, asking me why I didn't control my son on the playground because he was really going to hurt someone someday.

III. NAMES, ALPHABETS, NAMES

Physicians have been prescribing Ritalin (a.k.a. methylphenidate) for more than 30 years for a condition that has been known as Minimal Brain Damage (MBD), Minimal Brain Dysfunction in Children (MBDC), Attention deficit Disorder (ADD), and ADD with Hyperactivity (ADHD). If some progressive therapists and groups such as CHADD (Children and Adults with Attention Deficit Disorder) have their way, the official designation may one day be changed to Attention Deficit Syndrome with hyperactivity (ADHS). This alphabet soup can be confusing. Once, on his first day at a new school, my son announced in front of the class that he had ADHD. The next day, several very nervous parents called the school, concerned about the new student who had AIDS. Being a "hyper" kid turns you into one type or pariah; AIDS carriers get special mistreatment. It was weeks before the confusion was straightened out. But the impression had been made. Kevin was different; different is bad.

IV. SOME THEORIES

Some critics, such as noted psychiatrist Peter R. Breggin, regard ADD/ADHD as chimeras, non-conditions, a conspiracy by the entrenched psychiatric establishment to dose our children with drugs. "Just Say No To Ritalin!" could be their battle cry.Thom Hartmann published the 1993 book Attention Deficit Disorder: A Different Perspective." He once summed up his book this way: "If you lived 10,000 years ago, before the agricultural revolution, and were part of a hunting society, then the ability to have an 'open, highly distractible' state of mind would be an asset. Walking through the woods/jungle, if you didn't notice that flash of light out of the corner of your eye, you may miss either the bunny which is lunch, or get eaten by a tiger."

Hartmann surmises that the ADD hunters were survivors and their DNA went into the gene pool. "Modern people with ADD are those with leftover 'hunter' genes."

There are a few problems with the theory. Since impulsiveness is one of the hallmarks of ADD and ADHD, isn't it likely that the hunter with hyperactivity might charge headlong into a herd of charging mastodons without considering the consequences? Maybe he would neglect to tread carefully in saber-tooth tiger country?

V. CONTRAINDICATIONS

The pharmacist always gives me a yellow sheet with Kevin's Ritalin prescription. Under "Side Effects" it reads: "Decreased appetite; stomach ache; difficulty falling asleep; headache." Under "Cautions:" DO NOT DRIVE, OPERATE MACHINERY, OR DO ANYTHING ELSE that might be dangerous until you know how you react to this medicine." It says nothing about rock climbing, although you might infer that it comes under "dangerous," or at least, risky.

VI. TO FALL...

Kevin never has fallen. When he was two, he climbed the highest trees in the park near our Denver home. Fifty-foot-tall pines and spruces. The first time he did this, her looked down at me and said, "You worried, Daddy?"

"Yes," I said, which seemed to please him.

So what if he falls? Randy, Freeman, and I watch him climb and this occurs to them because Randy says, "Does this worry you?"

"Yes," I say, "it worries me." And it thrills me too. I've seen him all alone on the playground because the mothers won't let their kids near him. I've seen him mark time in his room, usually because he's been restricted in some way because he's had trouble at home or on the school bus or on the playground.

VII. TO FLY...

Do rock climbers dream about falling or of flying? Do hyperactive kids dream of solitude on a granite mountain? Or do they dream of this: dancing and laughing, surrounded by friends, the mountains a distant mirage?

From the author: This was written 16 years ago, when my son Kevin was eight. At 24, he's a college student in Arizona, doing his own thing.

Man in the Moon is so very lonely

Lots of newspaper articles and TV coverage marking the 40th anniversary of the U.S. moon landing. All of them seem to ask the same question: WTF?

It was a gallant quest, sparked by a challenge from JFK. A challenge that got many of us pulling in the same direction for a brief shining moment. JFK also kept us heading down the road to ruination in Vietnam. JFK's successor, LBJ, turned that road to ruin into a ten-lane expressway, and decided not to run for a second term in the wake of disastrous results, leaving the field open to Nixon. He did continue NASA's lunar flights but, in his second term, was distracted from the mission by break-ins and paranoia and Christmas bombings and cross-border incursions and trips to China.

Our lunaracy ended about the same time as Nixon's. And we haven't been back to the moon since.

Beating the Bolsheviks to the moon had more to do with beating the Bolsheviks than it did with the moon. We were demonstrating our superiority as the planet's only God-fearing democratic capitalist republic. We not only demonstrated this in space, but also in Hue and Managua and Cuba and Laos and Berlin and Tehran and Taiwan and Jakarta. We were so busy spreading democracy in these places that we forgot about the Sea of Tranquility -- ran out of money, too. Not to mention imagination. Reagan, too. Don't forget about him.

Think about all this next time you wonder: Man on the Moon -- WTF?

Victory Garden dedicated to the ones I love

My Victory Garden is chugging along.

So much rain. Tree and flowers and tomatoes are in shock due to the incredible amounts of moisture that's visited southeastern Wyoming in May and June. In past years, my garden has arisen to another sunny and dry day and demanded "Water us, sir, please. More water." And I usually comply, as water restrictions don't apply to veggie gardens and flower beds and shrubbery. Then, when I come home from work, the soil is as dry as it was in the a.m. and I'll have to water again. At times, I've forgotten to do so and I'll wake the next morning to find my container plants huddled close to the door, demanding a shower.

But this year, Mother Nature is wringing herself out all over the state. Rawlins, which is a couple hours west of us along I-80, has received 10.5 inches of moisture so far this year. That includes some heavy spring snows and lots of rain. Rawlins averages about 9 inches of annual moisture. Cheyenne's received 10.54 inches of moisture thus far and that's usually about 7 inches. We've had more than 3 inches of rain in June. That may not seem extraordinary to you gardeners from, say, central Florida where a June thunderstorm can dump three inches without even trying. But that much rain is a lot to us in semi-arid WYO.

The moisture has been great for lettuce and spinach. The broccoli looks O.K., but the tomatoes are a bit pale. They are crying out for sun and hope they get some this weekend. Maybe a shot of fertilizer will pick up their spirits. Summer squash is taking it's time. Only one of my three transplanted seedlings survived. I put some seeds in the ground last week and we'll see what happens. What can I say about zucchini? It grows.

Can't say the same for my bush beans. Green beans are a warm weather plant and we've had precious little of that. Thinking that all the rain caused the seeds to rot in the ground, I re-sowed the bean row and hope for some sun. The pole beans on the side yard are a couple inches high and straining for the trellis. I'm not worried about them.

So, a mixed bag this Saturday. I've already plucked a some of the red leaf lettuce and it's darn good. Not enough for a salad but a great snack. Odd thing is, two of the red leaf lettuce plants wilted and died. They were transplants but they all caught on and grew, and now they are falling prey to something. Anyone know? I shall have to consult my local master gardeners.

Are red leaf lettuce plants falling prey to wilt, rot or gardener's ineptitude?

On this June 13, I am not quite sure to what good cause I should dedicate my Victory Garden. Public-option health care plan? Passage of the Democrats' energy bill? Al Franken's victory (finally) over Norm Coleman in the Minnesota U.S. Senate race? World peace?

Or maybe I should declare victory over something, just as Stephen Colbert declared victory in Iraq this past week. Victory over right-wing extremists and hate-mongers? That would be premature, as events of the past two weeks show. Victory over the Repubs' nuke and coal and oil laden energy plan?

No, I think I shall dedicate this week's Victory Garden to a "full house." My son is home from college and the daughter of our best friends in Tennessee is in town for the summer working as a horse wrangler. Our daughter declared victory over tenth grade and is working at a plant nursery this summer. She's my co-gardener at home. I am well and so is my wife. We have the entire summer to look forward to.

What could be more victorious than that?

Summer reading: "Paris Trout"

Took me 21 years to discover Pete Dexter's novel "Paris Trout." It won the National Book Award in 1988. The book is set in a small Georgia town in the 1950s and concerns a particularly heinous race-based murder, something on the order of the Emmett Till killing which Lewis Nordan translated so well into his novel "Wolf Whistle." I do like the work of those southern writers.

Dexter isn't exactly a southerner. He did spend a few years in Florida, but that was in the Yankee part of the state in Palm Beach County. He set his 1995 novel "Paperboy" in redneck north-central Florida along the St. John's River. This isn't far from where I lived in the late 1960s, the same era as the setting of "Paperboy." I'm now reading "Paperboy."

Dexter could live on an island in the Pacific Northwest for all I care. He does now. But he brought to life the fictional residents of Cotton Point in red-clay Georgia. That's all that really matters.

"Paris Trout" is a great novel. The title character operates a store and pawn shop in Cotton Point. He's a miser and a bully and a racist. He does have a soft spot for his old mother, though. Paris Trout's racism is so matter-of-fact that it might be hard for young people to understand, especially if they've never lived in the South. He and his thug friend, Buster Devonne, go to Damp Bottoms to collect a debt from Henry Ray Boxer, a young black man. When the family objects to Paris Trout's presence, Paris and Buster go on a shooting spree that leaves Henry Ray's mother wounded and a 14-year-old black girl dead.

Paris sees nothing wrong with his actions. That's the heart of the story. He lives by his own rules and that might be fine if the rules possessed any semblance of humanity.

I may have to read through all of Pete Dexter before my fever abates.

Writer James Crumley dead at 68

Many of you already heard about the death of writer James Crumley in Missoula. He was the writer of great hard-boiled novels such as "The Mexican Tree Duck" and "The Last Good Kiss." Hard-boiled characters from a hard-boiled guy. Great books, though, with a hard shell surrounding the tough, age-old strugle between right and wrong. You couldn't always tell the good guys from the bad. But that's the heart of the matter, isn't it?

Here are the literary facts from Crumley's obit:

Crumley has published 11 novels, taught at universities across the country and worked in Hollywood for several years. Famous for his hard-boiled mysteries, his works include “One to Count Cadence,” (a novel about Vietnam) “The Last Good Kiss,” “The Wrong Case,” “The Mexican Tree Duck,” “Bordersnakes,” “The Final Country,” and most recently, “The Right Madness.”

Books for stay-at-home sickos

I've grown tired of the world of contemporary novels. So, during my last trip to the Laramie County Public Library, I picked up a batch of anthologies. A good thing, too, as I finally fell victim to one of the many viruses floating around Cheyenne. I'm home, and I desperately need new reading material, lest I be lured into watching political news on the tube all day.

"Bronx Noir," edited by S.J. Rozan, got my attention because it features work by one of my favorite writers, Jerome Charyn. There are no Charyn books in the library or in our local bookstores. That could be due to the fact that the writer sets most of his work New York City. He's best known for his Isaac Slidel police novels. Before he turned to mysteries, Charyn was a "literary writer," which is usually the kiss of death when it comes to book sales. He also won an NEA creative writing fellowship way back when.

But he's not the only good writer in this anthology by Akashic Books. Hard-boiled Lawrence Block is in here, as well as Terrence Cheng with his great noirish story, "Gold Mountain," about a young Chinese man who jumps ship in New York Harbor with a suitcase full of his boss's cash.

"Wolf Woman Bay" (Carroll & Graf) boasts retro cartoon-like cover art and features 10 of "the finest crime and mystery novellas of the year." I skipped Ed McBain and Joyce Carol Oates and jumped into a story by Steve Hockensmith, who's a mystery to me. The title of his novella, "Gustav Amlingmeyer, Holmes of the Range," caught my attention. It features Miles City, Montana, cowboy detectives Big Red and Old Red. Big Red has been reading Sherlock Holmes to his illiterate brother, Old Red, and it exerts a big influence when there's a murder in town. Hockensmith writes in an easy-going style that flirts with folksiness. The novella is also epistolary (told in letter form), which you don't see much these days.

I don't know how steamy all the stories get in "Killing Me Softly: Erotic Tales of Unearthly Love," but the one I read -- "Jaguar Hunter" by Lucius Shepard -- barely scratches the surface of an "R" rating. The story is great, though, by one of the best contemporary sci-fi (or maybe speculative fiction) writers around. Shepard sets this in an unnamed Central American country, a setting for much of his work. Esteban is an Indian who only wants to give back a TV his wife bought from an unscrupulous store owner in town. But the owner talks him into killing a jaguar. It turns out to be harder that he thought. And much more mysterious. "Killing Me Softly" is a HarperPrism paperback.

Now, back to my reading...

"Tin Roof Blowdown" in Wyoming

Listened to CD version of James Lee Burke's "Tin Roof Blowdown" on my trip to Riverton last week. I've always been a Burke fan, and have read all the other Dave Robicheaux mysteries -- or maybe they should be called Southern Gothic police procedurals. They're all compelling, no matter the terminology. In "Tin Roof Blowdown," Robicheaux is sent to New Orleans to help with post-Katrina recovery. Amongst the chaos, a priest friend of Dave's disappears, some black guys looting a white neighborhood are killed by a sniper, blood diamonds are stolen from a racketeers home. Back home in New Iberia, Dave's college-age daughter is the target of a stalker. All hell breaks loose and Dave is right in the middle of it. Just the way this reader likes it.

Some critics have called this one of Burke's best D.R. novels. Not sure if I agree. Hurricane-ravaged N.O. is a terrific setting. Yet pre-Katrina New Orleans served as a suitably violent and mysterious setting for his other novels. But the author draws his characters better than almost any other detective writer. That's always set him apart from the riff-raff. What's missing from this one is the eerie Southern Gothic juju he used so effectively in "Dixie City Jam" and "In the Electric Mist with Confederate Dead." "Tin Roof Blowdown" has an edgy, urban feel to it, a tone similar to Michael Connelly's L.A. or Ed McBain's 10th Precinct in NYC.

I have to admit that I cheated a bit on this novel. Usually I get unabridged versions of novels on CD. This one was trimmed to six hours. Maybe some of the atmosphere was lost in the process.