Author Mark Munger (Cloquet River Press)

Good Thunder, Blue Earth by Susan Stevens Chambers (2016. River Place Press. ISBN 9780990356363)

Here’s why I enjoyed this collection of poems set in America’s rural heartland:

No five a.m. eggs,

no fresh cinnamon rolls at ten.

Stay away from beef,

eat less at suppertime.

Let others do the chores.

You should think about moving to town.

(from “The Doctor’s Prescription”)

This after Grandpa Hank, the patriarch of the Carlson family farm suffers a heart attack while working the land that has sustained the Carlsons for generations. Ms. Chambers, who like me, is a judge in her vocation, clearly loves her avocation: writing strikingly poignant and succinct poetry centered around the experience of rural farming life in the present age. I am struck how this slender volume is an excellent companion to another book I am plowing through, novelist Lois Phillips Hudson’s Unrestorable Habitat: Microsoft is My Neighbor Now. The late Hudson, who taught at colleges in the Pacific Northwest but had roots on a family farm in North Dakota, left behind an assortment of essays that an organization I am affiliated with, the Rural Lit R.A.L.L.Y., (more at: http://rurallitrally.org/) has collected into Unrestorable Habitat. Reading Chambers’s poetry alongside Hudson’s lament for the loss of America’s rural heritage and love of nature (for more on Hudson, visit: http://www.loisphillipshudson.org/) is a compelling and intellectually invigorating exercise, made all the more enjoyable because Chambers, in addition to being an excellent poet, is also a fine narrator and storyteller. Her gift to the reader is the ability to take scenes, actions, and thoughts that might require dozens of paragraphs or pages to depict in prose, and render them sharply and crisply as stanzas of poetic lyricism. Loosely configured to follow seasonal life on a family farm, where joy and tragedy can be found in microcosmic equal measure, Chambers is a gifted wordsmith whose work should be read by all. Truly a stellar little gem of a book.

Peace.

Mark

5 stars out of 5.

George Washington’s Secret Six: The Spy Ring that Saved the American Revolution by Brian Kilmeade and Don Yaeger (2013. Sentinel. ISBN 978-1-59523-103-1)

My friends Nancy and Ron don’t always see eye to eye with Rene’ and I when it comes to politics. Like so many Americans these days, we often refrain from discussing the major issues of the day because, well, our friends are Fox News sorts of folks and Rene’ and I are more attuned to MSNBC. Still, for the past twenty years or so, Ron and I have bought each other books for Christmas. And generally, though not always, we buy non-fiction biographies or histories that engage and enlighten. That’s how this book came into my hands: Ron wrapped it up in his traditional Christmas wrapping especially selected for his liberal friend (the silver foil of potato chip bags cleaned of crumbs and turned inside out) and handed it to me during Christmas 2014. It took me a year to work down my reading stack to this slender volume. Here’s what I have to report.

Despite the endorsements on the rear jacket (from literary luminaries ranging from Donald Rumsfeld to Donald Trump), this book doesn’t, as the blurb from Karl Rove states, come close to being a “rollicking read.” While the narrative contains some interesting excerpts from letters written by the Culper Spy Ring stationed in and around New York City to their commander-in-chief, General George Washington, and letters from Washington to the leader of the ring, Major Benjamin Talmadge, the authors’ collective choice to invent dialogue and thoughts attributable to Washington and his spies in what seems, at first blush, to be a non-fiction historical account of actual events, clouds the veracity and accuracy of the story. Better for Kilmeade and Yaeger to have made a choice, like Nathan Hale does early in the book, to serve only one master: Either write the story as a novel and include dialogue and emotional content that could be attributed to the stars of the story, or write a straight historical narrative that sticks to what is known about the Culper Ring. Trying to write, what in essence, is a print version of a docudrama, does the story of the brave men and the one woman who risked their lives for their ideals an injustice. I also found the descriptions of the events that lead to the “success” of the spies and the authors’ view of their importance to the Patriots’ ultimate victory at Yorktown overplayed and lacking historical support, at least as contained in this volume. There is cause, there is effect, but there is nothing linking the two by way of facts or information that seems compelling enough to sustain the premise that the Secret Six offered up anything of note that “saved” the Revolution.

The writing was crisp and succinct but tended towards the elementary. It’s as if, in addition to being perplexed as to whether the book should be a novel or accurate history, the authors couldn’t decide whether the book was meant for adults or a juvenile audience. In sum, I learned a bit about the spies that aided Washington during the war that created our nation but, aside from the narratives about hero Nathan Hale and traitor Benedict Arnold, I found very little insightful or compelling in this read.

2 and 1/2 stars out of 5. Don’t waste your money: Watch “Turn: Washington’s Spies” on AMC for a more accurate and exciting retelling of this piece of American history. (More at: https://www.historians.org/publications-and-directories/perspectives-on-history/april-2014/the-revolution-takes-a-turn. Professor Eastman suggests Washington’s Spies: The Story of America’s First Spy Ring (2006) by Alexander Rose as the source of the history behind the series; not the vague and sometimes confusing book that is the subject of this review. You can also find out more about the series at:  http://www.amc.com/shows/turn.)

Peace.

Mark

The Confabulist by Steven Galloway (201. Riverhead Books. ISBN 9781594631962)

Two true confessions. First, from the time I saw an article about Houdini in a 1917 copy of Life magazine stacked amongst hundreds of other copies of that seminal 20th century periodical, and then watched Houdini starring Tony Curtis as the ill-fated magician, I was enthralled with the story of Ehrich Weiss (Houdini’s Americanized name). So when I learned that a new novel about Houdini was in the works, I made ready my credit card. Second, because I had the privilege of interviewing Canadian author Steven Galloway as part of the Cloquet Library’s One Book event in 2013, and later that same evening, dined with the man who penned The Cellist of Sarajevo; and as Galloway is the author of both books, I looked forward to reading his take on the Houdini legend. A few weeks back I picked up a hard cover version of Galloway’s latest at The Bookstore at Fitger’s. The book sat, unread until I left for a ski vacation in Montana. I read the novel between runs and at night as I tried to find sleep. In the end, unlike The Cellist, which I found to be “(B)rilliantly conceived (and) excellently executed”,  rating it at 5 out of 5 stars, The Confabulist doesn’t measure up.

There’s no question that the author’s take on the story of Houdini’s tragic end, where he is punched in the stomach by an angry young Martin Strauss, eventually dying from a burst appendix that some historians relate to Strauss’s punch, is a unique and ingenious one. Moving from third person (the Houdini story) to first person (Strauss’s story) is done seamlessly. But the addled mind of Strauss, and the confusion of fact and fiction in that reporter’s mind, is the confabulating factor in this story, so much so, it is difficult to understand and follow the tale’s various tangents. This is not to say that Galloway completely missed the mark. Rather, my take, upon finishing the book, is that it is a middling effort, worthy of print, but nowhere near as glorious a read as The Cellist.

Additionally, the author spends a great deal of time telling, not showing, how magic and slight of hand work. All well and good if he or she is writing a tutorial for budding magicians but lost, I am afraid, on the general reading audience who is more interested in Houdini the man than how he once made an elephant disappear. Further, the additional subplots featuring international intrigue and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle do very little to move the story forward. Finally, the ending, while certainly written with skill, is confusing. Perhaps a second reading of the last few chapters might reveal more but one shouldn’t have to work so hard unless one is reading Joyce.

In the end, a somewhat intriguing read but not nearly as compelling as The Cellist of Sarajevo (a review of which can be found by using the search feature of this blog.)

3 and 1/2 stars out of 5.

Ireland by Frank Delaney (2005. Audio version. Harper Audio. ISBN 9780062119681)

My wife Rene’ and I like to listen to fiction when we drive long distances. We’re old fashioned and, rather than have books sent to us via a streaming service, we buy audio CDs for the six disc changer in the blue Pacifica that is our traveling wagon. Sometimes we find gems (as we did with The Nightingale’s Song: you’ll find a review of that marvelous read by using the search function above). And sometimes, we find duds. Though the packaging and the promotional art for Ireland led me to believe this book would be a diamond. I was wrong.

Ireland follows the related stories of a mythical bard, The Storyteller, and a young listener, Ronan, who encounter each other when Ronan is 9 years old and The Storyteller is a guest in Ronan’s home. Enthralled with the tales that the old man spews, as Ronan ages, ultimately entering university as a history major, he becomes more and more determined to seek out The Storyteller to hear more of Ireland’s history and legends. What follows is a fairly trite and no-nonsense excursion through Ireland’s history: the Viking conquest; Oliver Cromwell’s invasion; the battle between William and James to secure Ireland as either a Protestant or Catholic nation; Wolf Tone’s uprising; the legacies of Parnell and O’Connell; and the 1916 Easter Rising. A collection of legends, myths, and historical tales takes the listener from ancient Ireland to 1961. The glue that ties the stories together is, sadly, one that seems forced and unnatural. The plot device used by Delaney, having the tales repeated to Ronan by third-hand narrators, Ronan always a step behind The Storyteller as the young historian chases the old sage across the island, seems contrived and doesn’t flow all that well. Add to this the fact that some segments are just dull and uninteresting, or, as in the case of three Irish guitar players singing a historical trilogy, downright annoying, and you have a mishmash of a novel; a haphazard collection of stories that are hammered into place to achieve the outwardly bulwark of a novel. But the heart, the soul of the stories, stories that Irish lad and lassies have reveled in for over a thousand years, is lost in the process of linking these bits and pieces of lore into something akin to a novel.

My wife quickly grew bored with the story. I listened to all 20 hours, if only to learn a bit more Irish history. I learned a few things but, sad to say, wasn’t entertained much in the process.

3 and 1/2 stars out of 5.

Gray Mountain by John Grisham (2014. Audio version. Random House Audio. ISBN 9781101921852.)

Will Grisham ever write another The Firm or A Time to Kill? I thought he might have as I listened to his wonderful characterization of the 2008 recession that is the beginning prompt in this story. In Samantha Kofer, a young third-year associate at one of the world’s largest law firms, a Wall Street insider whose work involves the boring, but necessary examination of financial documents, Grisham sculpts a lawyer whose selfish, egocentric, money grubbing psyche seems poised to launch the novel into greatness. And while Sam’s persona holds up over the arc of the story, and other supporting cast members such as Maddie (the principal in a legal aid clinic Sam ends up working at as an unpaid intern) and Donovan (a brash, local trial attorney whose sole joy in life is suing coal companies in the Appalachians) the plot, as has been the case in too many Grisham books of late, simply fails to launch.

Oh, there’s much promise in the opening few chapters where Donovan explains the evils of King Coal to the neophyte lawyer from New York City. The relationships that develop, including the love interest between Sam and Donovan’s brother Jeff are well written and believable.  But a series of slapstick maneuvers, a pale imitation of the skulduggery engaged in by Mitch McDear in The Firm, make the plotting seem forced. Add to this unresolved plot twists (what did happen to that second lawsuit, anyway?) and an ending that comes off as a rush to publication, and well, this Grisham effort doesn’t quite make the mark.

Gray Mountain wasn’t a bad book. It was enjoyable listening across the plains of North Dakota. But it could have been so, so much better. I am hoping John hits the next one out of the park. Why? He’s my hero. He self-published The Firm and worked hard to establish himself as a renowned author. Now, if he’d only spend more time on the writing and less on the marketing, maybe there’s another A Time to Kill inside his lawyerly skull.

3 and 1/2 stars out of 5.

Peace.

Mark

The Wright Brothers by David McCullough (2015. Simon and Schuster. ISBN 978-147672874)

Masterpieces: The Path Between the Seas. John Adams. 1776. The Wright Brothers? Not so much. I’ve read the first three titles, all great works of non-fiction by Mr. McCullough, and was held spellbound through each of them. Perhaps it is the epic nature of the subject matter of those tales. Or, in the case of the building of the Panama Canal, the exotic locale. But more than that, I think, McCullough’s other works involved characters of great interest: Men (and in the case of John Adams’s wife (Abigail) a woman) whose stories, when set against their timeframes, made those non-fiction works read like great literature rather than fact-driven histories. Unfortunately, either Orville and Wilbur Wright were two of the brightest yet dullest human beings on the planet or the author missed some juicy narratives and salacious gossip that would have made this book more compelling. Given David McCullough’s credentials as a researcher and writer, I’m fairly certain that his study of the Wrights, including The Bishop (their father) and Katherine (their sister) is spot on. That leaves us with a detailed and sometimes interesting rendition of the invention of the airplane and not much else. It’s not McCullough’s fault the Wright Brothers were so damn boring. They just were.

My copy of the book was given to me by a guy who, though having lived and made history, was once labeled by news pundits to be, well, somewhat dull and uninteresting. Knowing the former U.S. Senator, Vice-President, and Ambassador to Japan personally, having been the brunt of his wry, sometimes sardonic wit, I have to disagree: Walter “Fritz” Mondale is an interesting character, a point made clear in his memoir, The Good Fight. (The Good Fight: A Life in Liberal Politics by Walter F. Mondale with David Hage (2010; Scribner. ISBN 978-1-4391-5866-1)).  Fritz handed McCullough’s book to me at a cabin in Ontario and said “Give it a read and let me know what you think.” He also hinted that the book wasn’t all that exciting a read. I disagree to a point. I found the book well researched and written but, as I’ve said, somewhat thin when it came to exposing the inner lives of the book’s principal subjects. In fairness, the author did make me care about The Bishop (Milton Wright) and Katherine. Those two personages, rather than the brothers themselves, make for intriguing inquiry. Again, the lack of character examination and revelation concerning the brothers is likely due to the fact that, beyond being determined inventors, fine mechanics, skilled flyers, and gifted innovators the Wright Brothers were not especially compelling human beings.

My major criticism of the book concerns the ending. Readers are guided by the narrative to 1910, on the cusp of the Great War, which any historian or student of history knows was the first war involving combat aircraft. It would have been a far better ending to the Wrights’ story if the author had given us the history of how the fragile Wright Flyer, which barely cleared the sand dunes of Kitty Hawk in 1903, became a stable and reliable machine capable of great destruction in the space of only a decade. There are hints of this history in the book but they are only that: wisps of rumor and regret. Also, after spending 250 pages exploring the solitary and unexciting (save for their inventiveness) lives of the Wright Brothers, their respective ends are given fairly short shrift. The brothers grew up the sons of a Bishop in the United Brethren Church and a bit more examination of their faith, especially towards the end of their lives, would have added necessary humanity; flesh to their bones, as it were.

Fritz Mondale is an astute man. This book is well written but lacks the drama and characterizations of its subjects that would make it a “must” read. I learned much about the invention of the Wright Flyer but not so much about the men behind the machine.

3 and 1/2 stars of 5.

Peace.

Mark

Uprising A Novel by Dean Urdahl (2007. North Star Press. ISBN 978-0-87839-247-6)

I met Representative Urdahl at Hostfest in Minot this past fall. We manned tables across from each other in the Nordic festival’s bookstore as we hawked novels to strangers, and had many occasions to talk about kids, life, writing, and the travails of self-publishing. I found that Rep. Urdahl was an engaging man, whose prior career as a teacher and high school cross country coach was evidenced by the native patience displayed during our conversations. I’m normally very leery about trading copies of my novels with other self-published authors because I’m invariably disappointed. Not so this time. Here’s why.

First, the topic of Dean’s novel is of significant interest to me. My best selling books have all been historical fiction (The Legacy, Suomalaiset, and Sukulaiset). Back a decade or so ago, I too considered researching and writing a novel about the 1862 Dakota uprising. For those of you not steeped in Minnesota history, in 1862 the Sioux, who were confined on reservations near Mankato, rose in rebellion against their white neighbors. The cause of Little Crow’s War, as the conflict came to be known, was simple: Once again, the white man failed to abide by promises made in signed treaties, most importantly, the promise to pay the Indians an annual annuity that the Sioux depended upon to feed their families. Ultimately, I chose not to write a tale set against this tragedy and, given that Urdahl has done a credible job of bringing the story to life, I am glad I yielded this topic to him.

Secondly, my prose tends to be a hybrid of contemporary and literary styles that generally works to my advantage with readers. But if an author wants to reach the wider public, a more contemporary and less literary style sells books. Here, that’s exactly what Dean Urdahl has done. His writing, while crisp and fast paced, doesn’t hold any pretense of being literary and that, as I’ve said, is a sure fire way to engage the occasional reader. If one wants to educate the general public, the style chosen by Urdahl in Uprising hits the mark and makes for an easy, though accurate and thought provoking, read.

Urdahl handles the historical portions of the narrative with an even handed, genteel approach. Yes, the Sioux were mistreated and the white traders who often cheated, lied, and mislead their Indian neighbors did stand by, their granaries full of wheat and corn, watching women and children and tribal elders perish of starvation when promised annuity payments did not arrive from the federal government. There’s no question that, once a wandering band of young Indian men encountered a farmer and his family while hunting and that confrontation ended in murder, the events that unfolded thereafter, to include the deaths of over 800 white civilians, many of whom were helpless women and children, were indeed tragic for both parties. Urdahl doesn’t excuse the conduct of the beleaguered Sioux; he explains it and provides key historical details that bring the terror of the uprising to life:

The trap door to the cellar was open and, baby and all, she slipped and fell down the stairs, stifling her cries of fear and terror and pain. Meredith gripped her child tightly and tried to shield him from the fall as she rolled down the stairs and onto the packed earthen floor .

My major criticism of the book is that the author relies upon an invented subplot involving a fictional character, Rebel soldier Nathan Thomas (aka, Nathan Cates) to carry the story arc. In Urdahl’s fictional retelling of the tale, Thomas is sent by Confederate President Jefferson Davis to Minnesota as an undercover agent to rile up the Sioux in hopes of opening up a distraction while General Lee invades Maryland. At first, this addition of a fictional plot and a created character infuriated me to the point where I wasn’t going to continue reading. But, because the author’s prose was compelling and the history was of interest, I soldiered on (pun intended). I’m glad I did. While the ending seemed a bit abrupt, and the eventual “outing” of Thomas and its attendant consequences were a tad implausible, overall, the story was well crafted, the dialogue believable, and the novel, one that I would recommend to anyone interested in this unique piece of Minnesota history.

4 stars out of 5. Not the great American novel but worth a read.

Peace.

Mark

Simon’s Night (including Simon’s Night Journal) by Jon Hassler, edited by Joseph Plut. (2013. Nodin Press. ISBN 978-1-9356666-53-0)

Jon Hassler. My wife’s favorite author. A Minnesota original. I’ve met and spoken to Hassler’s friend and former colleague, Joseph Plut, and reviewed Plut’s extensive conversational memoir, Conversations with Jon Hassler, over the years. I’ve also spent a fair amount of time chatting with the owner of Nodin Press, the publisher of this edition of an early Hassler novel. So, there’s both a familial and a personal interest behind my reading Simon’s Night, which, at 256 pages, is not one of this author’s longer or more involved works. Putting aside my ties to the Fredenberg Chapter of the Jon Hassler Fan Club (membership: one, my wife), and my personal relationship (meager at best) with the book’s publisher and editor, I have come to the conclusion that this unique combination of novel and authorial journal/memoir is a winner.

First, the novel itself.

Simon Shea is an old man, a college professor, who is suffering memory lapses and decides, without medical confirmation, that he’s in the throes of dementia and in urgent need of round-the-clock care. He rents a room in a local boarding house for oldsters after he nearly burns down his riverside cottage outside mythical Ithaca Mills, Minnesota; the sort of stereotypical town in the western hills and river country of Minnesota that Hassler knew like the back of his hand. Simon’s time at Norman House, where he encounters an assemblage of old folks not unlike the cast of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (featuring, coincidentally, a big Indian bent upon shooting one last goose for dinner) includes memorable dialogue, comedic scenes, an engaging backstory, and ample ruminations by Simon Shea on his marriage to his wife, Barbara. Barbara. Maybe the only real difficulty I had with the book’s plot is the notion that, despite thirty years of separation from each other, Simon and Barbara remain married. They live separate lives; Shea in Minnesota, Barbara in Texas, have only sporadic contact, and yet, due to Shea’s Catholic roots, never divorce. There is the obligatory affair; Simon beds a twenty-something former student in Ireland where both end up on vacation; but, despite time, distance, age, and this indiscretion, Simon and Barbara’s connection to each other perseveres. I wasn’t completely sold as to this aspect of the plot, though I will concede it’s possible. Plausible? I’ll leave that determination for the reader.

Like all Hassler novels, there are humorous twists and scenes, religious digressions, and a slow, meandering story arc that eventually finds conclusion. If you’re looking for things blowing up, nubile vixens being bedded, or international intrigue, this book won’t do it for you. But if you enjoy methodical, richly constructed prose with a bit of Irish wit, Simon’s Night won’t disappoint.

Perhaps more valuable to me as an author is Simon’s Night Journal. Editor Plut has assembled over 100 pages of letters written by Hassler to Dick Brook, one of Hassler’s lifelong friends, all of which have direct ties to Hassler’s writing of Simon’s Night. Just as the title of this review suggests, the author’s letters to Brook (along with a few other notes scribbled to friends, his agent, and former students) allow readers into the inner sanctum, indeed, into the author’s mind, as he works on the book from early gestation to publication. We are privileged to listen in as the author reveals his struggles with writer’s block, character delineation, and the writing process. We, the readers, are along for the ride: from the lows, as when Hassler believes he may need to trash the entire project, to the highs, when he has not one but two novels-including Simon’s Night-being selected for publication in the same year. Plut has done a fine job editing out the extraneous and preserving the intimate. I was enthralled by the exposition of Hassler’s deepest fears and ambitions as a writer and would highly recommend that this volume, novel included, be utilized in college writing courses. An excellent combination full of teachable moments.

Novel: 4 stars out of 5. Journal: 4 and 1/2 stars out of 5. A notable and well-conceived idea!

Peace.

Mark

Waverly’s Universe by Jim Trainor (2012. Up North Press. ISBN 9780615709215)

Sorry, Rev. Trainor, but this is the weakest of the three books of yours I’ve read. There. That’s as plain as I can make it.

My friend Vicky gave me Trainor’s books as gifts a few years back. I previously read and reviewed Grasp, a nonfiction book examining faith and science (4 stars) and The Sand People, a contemporary Christian relationship novel (3 and 1/2 stars). It was clear to me after reviewing those books, and it’s clear to me now, that Trainor, who is both a scientist and an Episcopal priest, is a man of deep thought and spiritual belief. He is also a fair narrator when it comes to critically examining present-day issues and a decent nonfiction writer. But he is extremely limited as a storyteller. These observational points were reinforced in Waverly.

Josh Waverly, a physicist who works for a corporate laboratory in New Mexico, is a shallow imitation of his father, a world famous scientist whose expertise was parallel universes. Through a fairly incredible set of circumstances, the single and nerdy Josh is thrown together with an exotic and beautiful young Hispanic woman, Evangelina Gomez, who, we learn, has two very bad men after her. The bad guys (I’ll use a term that fits the level of the author’s plot and character development here) end up trying to kill not only Evangelina, but Josh, and Evangelina’s young daughter as Trainor tries his hand at a unique genre: the Christian action thriller. Reverend Trainor writes confidently and with purpose when he examines the inner lives, feelings, and motivations of the book’s protagonists but he is far less adept at dialogue, action, and plot. In a nutshell, had the author worked the story of the star-crossed lovers into a contemporary Christian novel akin to The Sand People, perhaps this effort would be more compelling. But this book was printed a year before The Sand People and presumably written before that work, meaning that Waverly evinces less polish and literary merit than its successor.

In the end, I think Reverend Trainor has much to say about science, faith, and human relationships. I’m just not certain that his vehicle for expression should be fiction. Jim Trainor did a fine job conveying a message in Grasp. Nonfiction seems to be his strength and I’d recommend that he continue to explore that medium and leave fiction to less linear writers.

3 stars out of 5. Readable but not compelling.

Peace.

Mark