Best intentions

Murder at the Columbarium by Emily Gallo ’67. This is the third novel of Emily’s I have read with Jonestown survivor Jed as the protagonist. Having found a way to go forward as caretaker for this facility for cremains, Jed has also maintained a network of friends and a committed partner, Monica. A character of great empathy, Jed found in the past that rocking crack babies calmed both the babies and himself as he struggled to keep his past from overwhelming him. Now he finds himself in the midst of a murder mystery. After coming upon the body of a young woman wearing a hijab on the grounds of the Columbarium, he is startled to also find with her a healthy baby. Clues lead to a pot farm, international drug traffic, and some harsh Pakistani customs. The plot is well-paced and keeps the reader guessing as the facts unfold. Malcolm, whom I first met in Venice Beach, comes back to play an important role, and Jed’s baby rocking skills come in handy. Though a brutal murder is at the center of the story, the book provides a heartfelt, humanizing look at those often marginalized by society: the trans, the HIV positive, the poor, and even the skinhead.

The Whole by John Reed 90’s. If malapropisms make you laugh out loud, you will have fun with this book. Thing, the blond hottie and main character, can’t seem to get out a sentence without one. Lewis Carroll’s Alice, who fell down the rabbit hole, was a good bit brighter and a lot less narcissistic. Still, there are similarities: a mysterious hole has opened up and a mysterious rabbit is ever at the ready with pink cocktails. Now I will show I went to graduate school. In An Anatomy of Criticism , Northrup Frye invents a comprehensive way to categorize literary works. One way to divide works up is by modes. In the ironic mode the author and the reader are co-conspirators, viewing the fictional characters as less than they are. If a character’s name is Thing, I guess we must be deep into the ironic mode. Thing is an object, but one with some feelings – she wants to be famous, rich and idolized. Okay, those are feelings. As I remember John Reed, he was not particularly into French. I am happy to see that despite my own failure to reach him, he nonetheless learned some French, enough to let the modern Ms. Malaprop say, as she goes off with a married couple that she’s willing to try a “fromage à trois.” Also, an unusual person has a certain “Je ne suis pas.” (Descartes would have loved that!). It would take a Northrup Frye to catalog all the swipes at modern society and all the inventive twists as the hole grows and we are bound to fall down in it. There’s social criticism here, there’s a great sense of fun, and there may even be a bit of metaphysics, which I’m afraid is too deep for me.

The Sorcerer of the Wildeeps by Kai Ashante Wilson ff. Sometimes this book seemed to me to be an early twentieth-century translation of a recently unearthed work of Homer. (“. . .hardly did dawn extend a rosy finger to caress the sky before . . . .” ) Like Odysseus, the hero Demane, a demigod and a sorcerer, embarks on a treacherous journey, but not for home (set out of reach somewhere in the skies) but for loot in Olorum City, which lies on the other side of Mother of Waters. Beside the road from Mother of Waters Station to Olorum are the perilous Wildeeps, inhabited by a larger-than-life monster, the green jook-touthed tiger known as the jukiere. Very scary; I mean it –you do not want to meet this beast. All of the characters are men except for Auntie, who is ever present in Demane’s mind, and as far as I can tell they are also all African. Demane and another demigod, Captain, are discreetly in love; the intensity of their passion is deftly conveyed through brief touches, the use of a forbidden first name, and the rare erotic memory. Fighting provides plenty of opportunity for valor. The prose is an amazing lush baroque. Captain, rescuing some comrades “swooped in, with the same acts dealing death and deliverance. The point edge of his spear opened red lips in one bandit’s throat. Lifesblood emptied from the new mouth, while the other bandit took the same blow’s downstroke, which cored his heart.” Demane has a true superpower and it is his sense of smell. I would love to see this story make it to the big or little screen, but somehow it would lack something with only sound and sight. Smells dominate many scenes I found the ambiguous ending intriguing. The reader will doubtless be tuning in for the sequel.