Books for Kindles: Some Thoughts & Recommendations

In today's issue of The Observer (the Sunday edition of The Guardian), there's a fascinating article by John Naughton about the doors that have been opened to previously unpublished authors by the arrival of the Kindle and other e-readers. That prompted me to ponder the proliferation of Kindle-only content, "independent" publishing and other such phenomena, and generated some mixed conclusions.

The first of these is that -- without question -- Naughton's observation that "at a stroke, all those tiresome gatekeepers – those self-important agents, editors and publishers who stood between you and recognition – are abolished. Suddenly, the world can see your hitherto unrecognised talent in all its glory" is all-too-true. Out of curiosity, I have downloaded some books that looked appealing, only to find that they were almost literally unreadable. Even when the plot was borderline coherent, and the characters marginally interesting, the authors have failed to realize that their work could only be improved with some oversight by some of those very "tiresome gatekeepers." After all, the job of the latter is to try and make a book the best book it can possibly be, and thus they have a vested interest in winnowing out purplish prose, eliminating repetitive redundancies (yes, I did that on purpose...) and cleaning up typos and grammatical hiccups. Some authors, sadly, fail to realize that their deathless prose might actually be improved by an editor or that their stories need a lot of work before they are ready for prime time, and interpret constructive criticism from pernicious gatekeepers as a refusal to recognize their peerless prose for what it is.

Don't misunderstand me. I have stumbled across some winners among self-published books, particularly in the arena of historical fiction. Susan Higginbotham's debut (and still my fave among her books), The Traitor's Wife, was picked up by a mainstream publisher after wowing a lot of historical fiction fans with its fascinating and well-researched look at the fall of Edward II, orchestrated by his queen and her lover. (In my eyes, it helped that the story was told through the eyes of a little-known player, the king's niece and wife to his 'favorite', Hugh le Despenser.) Another veteran of the HF scene, Brian Wainwright, has written a few self-published books, including the absolutely hilarious Adventures of Alianore Audley and the rather dense Within the Fetterlock, both of which definitely deserve wider audiences and a mainstream publisher.

By and large, however, the Kindle-only titles contain -- sadly -- a lot of books that never reach their full potential, for whatever reason. With one glaring example: Kindle Singles.

I don't know which genius at Amazon (or elsewhere) came up with this concept, but whoever it is should be carefully followed, because that person has a good eye for publishing concepts that will work in the digital era. I've now read more than half-a-dozen of these small-scale offerings (which translate into anywhere from 14 to 70-odd pages in "real" "dead tree" books), and conclude that this is a brilliant way to bring great reporting to a wider audience than would otherwise be possible -- and to do it in a timely fashion.

For instance, within only a few weeks of Osama bin Laden's death, Kindlers like me (and remember, you don't need to own the e-reader itself to sample these; the Kindle app is available for computers, phones and other devices) could read Christopher Hitchens's musings on "bin Ladenism" in The Enemy. I've read the moving tale of Jacques Leslie's return to Indochina, where he worked as a war correspondent in Vietnam and Cambodia, in War Wounds. ProPublica has taken advantage of the Kindle Single to showcase some of its prize-winning work by folks like Sebastian Rotella, who scored an Overseas Press Club Award for reporting that shows up in Pakistan and the Mumbai Terror Attacks, and the inimitable Jesse Eisinger, who scored a Pulitzer for his reporting on the financial crisis this year -- which Kindle Single followers can read in The Wall Street Money Machine: together, these are a great example of a new kind of journalism (for more info on the non-profit ProPublica, check out its site here) taking advantage of a new kind of publishing model.

Of all of these, a list of my three favorites have to start with the painful and painstakingly-researched piece by Jon Krakauer that put an end to Greg Mortenson's career as philanthropic hero, Three Cups of Deceit. From David Wolman, author of an upcoming book about the future of money, came The Instigators, a behind-the-scenes-look at the Egyptian revolution of early this year, through the tale of Ahmed Mahar, an engineer who unexpectedly found himself becoming a political activism in the years that lead up to Mubarak's ouster. Chinese Dreams, by Indian writer Anand Giridharas, addresses China's economic boom in a way that I've been curious about for years, but haven't seen many writers focus on in isolation: the question of whether there is a uniquely Chinese approach to being a superpower and whether the rejection of the West's "lessons" might be more than just pique. All three are heartily recommended -- 4.5 star offerings from the world of the Kindle Single.

The ability to send content out into the world, unmediated, via Kindle may be a trap for writers without the ability to take a cold, hard look at their own prose, it can be a boon for those of us with an interest in longform journalism. At any rate, in spite of Naughton's valid qualms about e-book publishing outlined in his article, I can only conclude that there's at least some gold to be found out there in Kindle-land by those willing to hunt for it -- and that means that we'll see even more creative uses of this new way to reach readers in the future.

Just Added to My Shelves:

A few of the books I've added to my (already overloaded) bookshelves in the last ten days or so; I'm hoping to get to at least some of these before the end of the summer!

• The Good Muslim by Tahmina Anam (Amazon Vine, advance copy)
• The White Devil by Justin Evans (Amazon Vine, advance review copy)
• The Sentimentalists by Johanna Skibsrud (Library)
• Hopes and Impediments: Selected Essays by Chinua Achebe (gift)
• The Strange Fate of Kitty Easton (UK purchase)
• Unnatural Selection by Mara Hvistendahl (publisher giveaway)
• Fatal Risk by Roddy Boyd (publisher review copy)
• French Leave by Anna Gavalda (Library)
• Nothing Daunted by Elizabeth Wickenden (purchase)
• On the Origin of Teepees by Jonnie Hughes (publisher e-galley)
• Class Warfare by Steven Brill (publisher e-galley)

And now that I'm back from my trip to the West Coast (attending a fascinating conference about corporate governance at Stanford), I'll be able to catch up on posting what I've been reading and what I can recommend here!

Books to Help Beat the Heat: "The Informant" by Thomas Perry

   
    When the weather is hot and muggy and your brain feels too sluggish to focus on the literary classics or the latest prize-winning novels that you know you should be reading, it's time to turn to one of those books often referred to as "beach reads". They're not really that challenging -- the plots are easy to follow, the characters have relatively simple and straightforward motivations, and the story is action all the way, whether it's a chick lit romance or a suspense thriller. The Informant by Thomas Perry falls squarely into the latter category, and while it's not likely to linger in your memory for its deathless prose or pitch-perfect characterizations, you'll certainly forget the fact that your airconditioner is on the blink and your sunburn is making you feel as if you've been sizzling on a griddle as you follow retired hit man Michael Schaeffer as he tries to convince a recalcitrant bunch of Mafia dons that he really is retired, and has no interest in their ongoing turf battles. The problem is, the mob doesn't believe him, and won't let him live in peace with his aristocratic English wife in their rural mansion. So, Schaeffer heads back to the United States, and mayhem ensues.
   
    The story is adequate -- lots of chases, lots of glimpses inside the mind of the "Butcher's Boy" (who has featured in two other Perry novels) as he meticulously plots his actions and out-thinks his enemies -- and lots of bodies piling up. That trail of corpses piques the curiosity of Elizabeth Waring, a Justice Department investigator who has encountered "Schaeffer" before -- and she becomes still more intent on using the former hit man to rein in the mob when he appears in her home in the middle of the night, not to murder her, but to try and figure out what's going on. Before long, Waring is trapped in a bureaucratic nightmare, trying to co-opt Schaeffer as an informant and stop him from following what he considers to be the logical path to protect himself -- killing anyone who might be a threat. Sure, there are plenty of holes in this kind of plot, and you'll need to put your skepticism on hold while you read, but being skeptical and critical takes a lot of energy in the hot weather, doesn't it?
   
    I've read the prior novel in this series, and while it's fun to see how Perry's characters formulate their plans and act on them to outwit the law, I still prefer reading about someone who does it for a good reason, like Jane Whitfield, the heroine of Perry's other series. She's half-Seneca Indian, and uses tribal lore and 20th/21st century smarts to help innocent people in peril of their lives get to a place of safety and build new lives -- she's a guide, of sorts. Needless to say, each time she does this life gets more complicated than she imagines and to keep her charges safe, she goes to extraordinary lengths. While The Informant is an entertaining if rather violent (in a matter-of-fact way) suspense novel, the Jane Whitfield books (which include titles like Dance for the Dead, Vanishing Act and Blood Money) are much, much better -- great suspense reads at any time of the year. Some of his stand-alone books are also well worth looking for, notably Death Benefits. Try those first, then if you like Perry's style, it's time to take a look at this 3.7 star book.

Full disclosure: I received an advance review copy of this book from NetGalley.

"Indigo teaches you to be humble in life."

            

           For years, Catherine McKinley has been almost hypnotized by the deep blues created by indigo dye – and particularly fascinated by the indigo cloth that once served as a key trade good and source of wealth in several West African nations. Deeply conflicted by her own heritage and upbringing – the daughter of an African American and  a Jewish American, adopted by white WASPy parents – McKinley’s fascination with indigo becomes even deeper as she investigates her own roots and heritage.

            Of course, not all personal obsessions, however fascinating, translate into great books, and this is a reminder of that. The story of McKinley’s quest to discover more about indigo during a long stay in West Africa, this is a book that is filled with “wow” moments but that somehow never manages to deliver a knock-out blow as an entire work. For instance, I found myself riveted to the page as McKinley discusses the life of an Austrian opponent to Nazism who built a new life for herself in Nigeria based on Yoruba spiritual traditions and the related crafts; as she explores the stories of the warrior women of Dahomey and their indigo; as she is caught up in a coup in Ivory Coast as she hunts out more indigo, or encounters a modern-day Dogon from Mali who is reviving the ancient customs of the dye pot. But these stories and adventures don’t  really knit together as well as they should, or form a coherent narrative arc.  McKinley is clearly on some kind of quest related to or sparked by her indigo compulsion, but is it a scholarly one? A personal and psychological one? What are the steps along the way? These are unclear, and McKinley herself seems to dither about this, repeatedly breaking into her narrative to question why she is caught up in this quest.  Several times she repeats the criticism of Eurama, the Ghanaian woman she meets and who becomes almost a surrogate mother that she “is chasing folly, and the mere vessels of life’s beauty.” And she seems to agree, describing her fascination as  “my insatiable desire, my drunken need.” She reaches out and then pulls back again: “I had hoped to touch the way of being of the artist, the cosmological and spiritual world of the dye pot, but evidently it was a world I might never enter. And should I enter, the uninitiated, the stranger with time only to look and buy?”  But within a few sentences, she is back on the hunt for indigo cloths and indigo stories.

            That kind of agonizing gets annoying after a while, as do some of the author’s more purple-hued turns of phrase. (Perhaps the indigo has spread into her writing style??) Some of her descriptions or comments left me downright flummoxed as to what she meant, or wondering why on earth she had chosen such oblique and ornate language. For instance, McKinley describes  the Ivoirian minister of communications as “a dark, hedged soul”, whatever that might be. She refers to a clothing making technique that is ancient but which the maker “flexes with Japanese knowledge.” Does she mean combines?? She comments on the extreme heat in Niger that  “there is a gentleness to the extreme, and you trust and dance into the fire.”  There are certainly creative and colorful ways to express heat, but that just felt florid.

            Nonetheless – this is a fascinating book, and one I’d recommend taking a look at. It’s the best kind of “who knew?” story, one absolutely littered with obscure tidbits of information that help the reader piece together a broader tale about West Africa, about slavery and colonialism, about traditional arts and crafts and the link between those products and culture and religious traditions. Who knew, for instance, that those vivid designs on the clothes those of us who live in large cities with West African populations can see women wearing can be up to 150 years old, and carry names that identify them? The choice of what cloth to wear can deliver a message to a husband, a co-wife, a community – names like “men are not like ears of corn” or “stairs to heaven” or “life is sweet” each convey certain meanings, even when they no longer contain any indigo.

            Even though I started this book with minimal curiosity about indigo itself (I was more intrigued by element of the journey of self-discovery), I found myself Googling images of the cloth, the designs and the people who wear them by the time I was halfway through the book. It’s a reminder that the objects that we value – even in this ultra-globalized society – still differ depending on our cultural heritage. McKinley offers her readers the chance to look behind the curtain at one part of the world that is still too little known, and if the price to be paid is to put up with some bumpy writing and the author’s personal dithering, well, I ended up feeling that it was worth it. 4 stars; recommended.

            Full disclosure: I obtained an advance review copy of this book from Amazon.com through their Vine program. 

Mystery Monday: War's violence leaves a legacy

Well, it's still technically Monday here on the west coast, where I am at present, so I hope you'll forgive the very late update! And I can't yet post the cover picture atop this post, as the bed & breakfast I'm staying in is not only sans airconditioning (a problem, as Silicon Valley has just succumbed to a heat wave) but really, deeply inadequate Internet access.

Still, I wanted to draw attention to the first in a new series of mysteries that has made its debut in England and is now crossing the Atlantic to these shores. I've just received the second book from the UK, and I'll report back on that shortly, but in the meantime, anyone who has read and enjoyed even some of the novels of "Charles Todd" (in reality, a mother/son writing duo) or Jacqueline Winspear's series of mysteries featuring psychologist detective Maisie Dobbs (indeed, even the Joe Sandilands mysteries from Barbara Cleverly), is likely to find something to relish in the pages of The Return of Captain John Emmett by Elizabeth Speller. True, it's another mystery set in the aftermath of World War I and with a plot that revolves around the war and its aftermath, but "post WW1 fatigue" after reading the Todd and Winspear books is no reason to avoid this book -- in many ways, it feels like a stand-alone novel rather than the beginning of a series, and is all the better for it, offering the reader elements that aren't part of the other two series.

Laurence Bartram, like so many other still-young men, has returned from the trenches and their horrors only to find that postwar life offers a very different and more muted kind of horror -- the perils of adjusting to "normality". The only memory of his former life, as Speller's novel opens, is the piano that his wife Louise once cherished; she and their infant son died the same day he went "over the top" on teh Western Front in a particularly brutal and pointless battle. Now Bartram tries to build a new kind of life for himself, desultorily pondering the idea of writing a book about church architecture. Then the sister of a schoolfriend, John Emmett, seeks him out. She wants his help understanding why her brother killed himself.

That's the starting point for what becomes a very good novel, even if some of its themes are overly familiar to the avid mystery buff. For instance, Bartram has a bluff sidekick, Charles, who resembles Poirot's buddy, Hastings, only with a few more little grey cells. There's a romantic interest; a cast of supporting characters who fulfill various predictable roles in the investigation and in Speller's portrait of postwar England. And yet... Speller handles these well enough that even when one part of my brain was telling me "yeah, I might have known this would happen!", another corner of it was telling it to shut up and instructing me to keep reading. Speller does an excellent job of crafting a sense of time and place. While Laurence Bartram isn't nearly as complex or nuanced a character as Ian Rutledge, the war veteran Scotland Yard detective created by Charles Todd, and the mystery isn't as intriguing as the early books in that series, the overall story is both gripping and fresh. At times the writing also goes beyond solid to reach "very good indeed" levels. This book (which I first read as a NetGalley offering) is undoubtedly a "thumping good read"; 4 stars. Evidence of how much I enjoyed it is that I ordered the sequel from the UK, forking over Amazon's hefty shipping charges. It's nice to have a fresh mystery series and a new "voice" that you enjoy...

Thinking about this book made me realize that the trauma of World War I (and particularly the trenches of the Western Front) have been a literary bonanza for mystery writers. When it comes to World War II, an older book that I dipped into last week made me realize that an utterly different kind of trend seems to be taking shape in mystery novels set against a background of World War II: the counterfactual mystery. A series of authors have now crafted mysteries or thrillers whose action takes place against the backdrop of a Britain that has been conquered by Nazi Germany in World War II. Perhaps the first of these that i read was Fatherland, the breakthrough novel by Robert Harris (who went on to write tomes like Enigma, Pompeii and Imperium.) I don't remember that much about that one -- I certainly wasn't bowled over by it -- but then a few years ago read a much less well-known book by British author Murray Davies, Collaborator, that deserves a much wider audience. In it, Nick Penny returns to occupied England and must grapple with the changes he finds, even as he is forced to work for the German occupiers and his oldest friend becomes involved in the resistance. This is an excellent and fast-paced novel that I defy you to put down... Reading SS-GB by Len Deighton reminded me -- perhaps a bit too much -- of Davies's novel. This 1970s-vintage book is an OK look at the plight of a policeman caught up by his desire to solve crime, and his need to keep multiple different German bosses happy. In both cases, the picture of England is one that is bleak, indeed, but Davies manages to structure a better story and sustain the suspense better. Seek it  out -- you won't regret it. (The other counterfactual books of this kind are written by Jo Walton, a trilogy beginning with Farthing. I'd give the Deighton book 3.2 stars, the Walton series about 3.5 to 3.8 stars, and the Davies novel 4.4 stars.

Memo to self: it's time to look at one of the non-fiction books devoted to alternative or counterfactual history that I've got on hand -- it's fun when scholars get creative and imaginative!

Award Watch: The Richest Literary Prize in the US to Debut in 2012/13

About a million dollars in prizes to be awarded annually -- about the same per prize as the Dublin Impac Award, and more than ten times what the Pulitzer and National Book Awards yield, and double what the lucky winner of the Man Booker can expect to pocket. It will be interesting to see what the criteria are, and what kind of works get recognized as a result!

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/18/books/yale-announcing-150000-literary-prizes.html?smid=tw-nytimesbooks&seid=auto

The Book Biz: Next-Gen Book Tours

When Chasing Goldman Sachs came out last summer, and people started asking me when/where I'd be going on book tour, my publicist broke it to me that book tours are so last century. But it looks like Ayelet Waldman has found a clever way to innovate! And my friend Kim Brittingham has come up with an even wilder proposal: anyone who buys a very large quantity of her new memoir, Read My Hips, to give away, wins her presence and participation in a creative project of the purchaser's choice. Glad to see such creativity in marketing, beyond the creativity on the printed page!

http://www.economist.com/blogs/babbage/2011/06/book-tours-age-social-networks?fsrc=scn/tw/te/bl/followthereader