The Season Turns, and I Slow Down

Good morning, northern Michigan!

It feels like fall, doesn't it? Great weather to bundle up for a long country walk and then come home and get cozy with a book! But which book? Not only are there “so many books” and never enough time, but also so many reasons to read, and we read differently depending on the material and our own purposes in turning those pages. I've been thinking about this as I look over the last few books I read during summer's closing days.

I read Immokalee’s Fields of Hope to learn more about a place we had passed through many years ago after leaving friends who lived then in Everglades City, Florida. The book was simply and straightforwardly written, and I appreciated the author’s story of how her own life had been enriched when she stepped outside her privileged comfort zone. I saw Immokalee only from the outside and was grateful for an opportunity to see it (at least one view of it) from the inside.

Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia Woolf’s classic, was the book our reading circle chose for September. While not exactly difficult to read, it is serious literature, and I approached it seriously, not going so far as to underline or make notes but noting various themes (hours, kiss, plunge) as they recurred through the novel and enjoying the lyrical sentences and deft, seamless changes from one consciousness to the next. Neil Gaiman’s American Gods, on the other hand, was a challenge, and I can’t say I enjoyed every page, but his beautiful, imaginative writing kept me going. In the end? I wasn’t sure where I’d been or what had happened — to me as a reader or to the protagonist in the story. So I'll say I kept at American Gods with determination and finished it with a sense of accomplishment, glad to have read it but pretty sure I won’t be re-reading it.

Anne-Marie Oomen’s Love, Sex, and 4-H, on the other hand, was a worthwhile re-read for me. It answers the question, “What were the Sixties like?” for one young woman growing up in rural northern Michigan and reminds me once more that “the Sixties” were a very different experience for everyone going through them. Oomen’s memoir is structured in a way that gives shape to her adolescent memories, and her writing, as always, gracefully accomplishes her ends. Since I had read this book once or twice already and feel now a fairly comfortable distance from my own tumultuous Sixties adolescence, I could read Love, Sex, and 4-H without angst, simply for relaxation.

Continuing to indulge in relaxing reading, I returned to a book I’d dipped into several times over the summer, Lafcadio Hearn’s Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan. Hearn, a foreign visitor to Japan in peacetime, teacher of English in in a boys' school, lived in an old traditional house with garden in the town of Matsue. He fell completely in love with Japanese culture and describes his experiences and investigations in detail. Subsequent history took a turn Hearn did not foresee, but that was later and not part of this book. You can read more about Lafcadio Hearn's exceedingly complex life here. 

I read also local writer Robert Underhill’s new novel, That Week in June, set not in Leelanau County in the 21st century but back in 1940s Carolina. That Week in June is as much coming-of-age novel as murder mystery. Those of us who have been “of age” for a long time, however, can read stories like this differently from those still in the throes of growing up, and so for me the book was another little escape.

Finally, re-reading tempted me once again when I reached into my cookbook collection -- where other books seem mysteriously to have collected, as well -- and my hand fell upon Horses Never Lie: The Heart of Passive Leadership, by Mark Rashid. I love this book so much! The way I read it -- and never losing sight of the horses! -- I find the lessons Rashid drew from his observation of horse behavior in herds also pertinent to human behavior in crowds. See what you think --

There is the flashy, stand-out personality of the “alpha” in the herd that everyone notices. Ah, but the “alpha” is not the horse that others look to for real leadership, guidance, and safety. He is the one they fear and avoid — the bully, as it were. The horse whose true leadership the other horses recognize and acknowledge has a calm, quiet personality. He is the horse that lets the others feel safe. And they are safe with what Rashid calls this “passive leader” — “passive” in that he did not seek leadership but had it conferred upon him by the herd. He is the horse with common sense. He does not panic or run scared or explode into temper tantrums but exhibits grace and courage under fire. It is the author’s belief that a rider who wants partnership with a horse rather than dominion over the horse will seek to become the calm, consistent passive leader that horses naturally look to for guidance in a herd.

Rashid tells the story of a large herd of horses that separated into two bands, each bossed by a rival alpha. The boss horses were Captain and Otis. Most people would have looked at the horses and concluded that Captain and Otis were the leaders, but Rashid saw something different. 

You see, the herd members were very peaceful and they seemed to get along with one another quite well. There was never much turmoil amongst them. On the other hand, the attitude of the entire herd changed dramatically whenever Otis or Captain came around. The atmosphere went from one of calm camaraderie and mutual respect to one of strong, palpable uneasiness. I attributed the uneasiness to the fact that the boss horses were not only relatively mean to the rest of the herd, but were also unpredictable. 

Up to that point I’d been under the impression that most horses within a herd looked up to the boss horses with a sort of awe or with undying respect. But as I watched the herd react to Otis and Captain, I got a whole different picture of how horses looked at their leaders. It wasn’t awe or respect at all, but rather with mistrust and, in some cases, downright fear. In fact, the majority of the herd usually did everything they could to avoid any contact with the boss horses. 

A few pages later we are introduced to a horse named Buck as Buck is being introduced to a boss horse named Pete. In the beginning, Pete is determined to run Buck away from the feed bunk, and Buck seems to give ground again and again, but he never runs away, and he never goes far. Neither does he enter into confrontation with Pete. Instead, while Pete is repeatedly driven into righteous fury by Buck’s violations of what Pete considers his space, Buck remains calm and lets Pete work himself into a lather and exhaust himself until finally the two are feeding side by side, Buck’s purpose accomplished without violence of any kind. Later a new mare introduced into the herd is the victim of attacks by other horses until Buck’s quiet demeanor allows her to seek his protection, and after that the other horses all accept her, too. 

The Artist and I are going to take a few days of fall vacation this coming week, and during that time I will continue my reading for relaxation. For our modest Michigan wanderings I’ve set aside The Lost Upland: Stories of Southwest France, by W. S. Merwin, and Alain-Fournier’s Le Grand Meaulnes, the most romantic — in the largest sense of the word — novel I know, and yes, one that I have read before. Summer is over, fall is here, and the transition recommends that I continue to take it easy with my reading for a little while. Also, that I take longer walks with our darling girl.

See you when we get back. We won't be gone long.

Murder Here, Murder There, Murdered Bodies Everywhere

My sister Deborah with guest author Sara Paretsky at fund-raiser in central Illinois

This spring my sister had an opportunity to meet, in person, Chicago’s Sara Paretsky, creator of the popular V. I. Warshawski novels, in which a feisty female detective (divorced, loves dogs, hates cooking and housework) negotiates the southwest stretch of Lake Michigan shoreline -- urban neighborhoods, scary alleys and industrial settings -- the works! Warshawski takes risks, confronts danger head-on, and brings wrong-doers to justice. It turns out author Paretsky and her husband honeymooned in the Sleeping Bear area (before or after Lakeshore status? I don’t know), and she loves the whole Leelanau/Grand Traverse area. I wonder if she has any idea of the number of fictional murders that take place in these beautiful surroundings.

I asked some Up North murder mystery writers of my acquaintance what drew them to the genre and how they rationalize the high number of local homicides in their novels. The answers were interesting.  Here’s how Robert Underhill, author of the new novel Suttons Bay, responded:

I like puzzles. "Who done it" is a puzzle that has to be answered. Our moral code demands an answer where murder is concerned. A reader is easily convinced of this. Why did Jane decide to become a nurse, is an interesting question, but halfway into a book about the subject one may think, "Maybe I don't need to know that much." A mystery novel fan has to know the who, how and why about a murder. As a kid I read Nancy Drew, and then all of Sherlock, then all of the British classics. It was relaxing, non-demanding reading at bedtime after a busy day. 

One day I complained to Trudy [his wife] that I couldn't find a good mystery of the puzzle type I enjoy, and she answered, "So, write one yourself." A project suggested itself: I have enjoyed so many pleasurable hours with a good mystery -- why not try to write at least one book that would provide a reader with my taste a "good read"? It would serve as a sort of payback to all those who had put in the time that I'd benefited from. I set out pleased with the project, but with no promise of success. As it has turned out, I had the pleasure of having a number of people approach me to say that I had accomplished my goal. I also found that I really enjoy writing. 

Why Leelanau? Most would say that writing about what you know affords the best chance of creating a convincing fictional world. Aside from Leelanau, I've written a novel set in Chicago - with which I am acquainted, one set in Ann Arbor  -- ditto -- and my last book took place in Appalachia, where I once lived.

It should be pretty clear to locals and county visitors from the title of Underhill’s new book, Suttons Bay, that it’s set close to the author’s Leelanau County home.

Elizabeth Buzzelli, author of the popular Emily Kincaid series, shared Underhill’s perspective in part and also gave a surprising and striking response to one of my questions. That is, she doesn’t think murder in northern Michigan is all that unlikely or uncommon! Read on, if you dare!

Ah Pamela, murder is not as rare as you might like to think in our pleasant North Country.  The problem was, until recently, a distinct lack of law enforcement, or even collusion by law enforcement.  Since moving up here I have been treated to story after story of where the bodies are buried, with the miscreants never brought to justice.  I have one story -- which I'm considering as background for a future Emily Kincaid book -- about a mother and son who took in indigents during the winter, murdered them, and buried them in their basement. That site is now a paved-over parking lot in Kalkaska.  And stories from a retired psychologist . . . well . . . shall we say, murder is no stranger up here.  Winters are long and dull, you know. Now, as to how I got involved in murder.  My mother was a voracious mystery book reader.  Some of that must have rubbed off on me.  And then the nature of murder -- since Cain and Abel, a crime inducing the highest horror.  The act inspires not only fear, loathing, and reprehension but seems to reach down into that bottom-of-the-soul place where we all fear we might go--given the right circumstances. 

Murder is sin at its worst -- where a person's right to continue living is taken away.  To solve a murder, to bring a murderer to justice, is to set civilization back up on its feet, to make the world a good place again.  What better task for a writer than to set all of humanity to rights? To scare future murderers with apprehension?  And to have a heck of a lot of fun undoing dastardly villains.

Anyone who has ever met Buzzelli or heard her talk about her writing knows how much fun she has concocting her stories and punishing the wicked!

Buzzelli’s novels starring Emily Kincaid and sidekick Deputy Dolly all take place in and around Leetsville, a fictional Up North town. Underhill’s, as he points out, range from Leelanau to Ann Arbor, Chicago, and Appalachia. A local newcomer to the lists of northern mystery writers this spring is Berkley Duck of Leland, whose first novel is entitled The Grapevine. Here’s his take on my questions.

I wanted to try my hand at fiction. I picked the crime novel genre because I enjoy it as a consumer and because generating characters and a story line seemed manageable in this format:  a crime occurs, the protagonist gets involved (usually bringing some particular expertise to the task), he (or she) gets help from a sidekick of some sort, there may be a police procedural element, etc. All the writer has to do is fill in the details. Murder because you need a crime (obviously), and you need a crime that, presented properly, causes the reader to catch his or her breath: “Wow!  I wasn’t expecting that! What just happened? I liked that character.” And so he or she reads on. Murder resonates with everyone. 

 The Grapevine is not set in Northern Michigan (although the principal characters find themselves there eventually). Most of the action takes place in a large, unnamed city in the Midwest, a setting dictated in part by the plot but also one with which I was familiar having lived and worked in Indianapolis. Readers like to identify with the story locale, and verisimilitude is important. I have been told by readers of The Grapevine that they recognized places in which the action takes place even though I made them up. 

I intend to write another crime novel, and one in which more of the action takes place in northern Michigan. Murder? Of course!

So there you have it, from the horses’ mouths: crime, puzzles, characters, setting, justice.

How does the apparent embezzlement problem in a community symphony organization take a turn toward murder? Why would anyone take a shot at Deputy Dolly’s car while she is visiting an old grave at the Leetsville Cemetery? And what if a psychiatrist, listening to a patient’s description of how he would kill another person, takes as fantasy what is actually a plan? For answers to these questions – and all the others that will occur to you as you turn the pages of these mystery novels – read The Grapevine, by Berkley Duck; Dead Little Dolly, by Elizabeth Kane Buzzelli; and Suttons Bay, by Robert Underhill. All are at Dog Ears Books now, and very soon we will also have for you Aaron Stander’s latest Ray Elkins mystery, Death in a Summer Colony.

Hot Date: A book signing and reception for and with Robert Underhill and his latest mystery novel, Suttons Bay, will be held at Dog Ears Books on Sunday, June 23, from 3 to 5 p.m. Please do not be confused: the book title is Suttons Bay, but the signing will take place at my bookstore in Northport!