“First of State” Review, and an Invitation from Tim Hallinan

Whenever I write a book review as part of an author’s or publisher’s promotional campaign, I like to post the review online a few days in advance of the scheduled publication date—enough time to let interested readers and potential book buyers know that the book will soon be available, but not so far out that they’re likely to forget about it before the book reaches the booksellers. Usually, it’s a good strategy, but there are times ….

There are times when my cleverness bites me in the ass. Had I been thinking clearly (and clearly I had not), I would have realized sooner that the October 19^th publication date of Robert Greer’s new novel, First of State, came at a time when the political and media propaganda/noise machines would be revving toward their redlines in the run-up to the mid-term elections—a condition virtually guaranteeing that any reference to my First of State review in a blog post would be immediately lost amidst the frenzy. For lack of a better plan, I felt it best to let the din subside first, and then proceed as if that were the plan all along.

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Timothy Hallinan, author of at least ten published novels and one of my favorite living writers, is more than a month into what he calls The Stupid 365 Project—his commitment to make a 300-word (minimum) random-subject blog post at The Blog Cabin every day for a year. Nearing Day 40 and with his resolve intact, Tim hopes to attract some new readers to his blog for the duration. Having been a reader of TS365P from its beginning, I highly recommend that you, too, follow along and, perhaps, leave a comment from time to time. Tim’s writing is often insightful, always thoughtful, sometimes humorous, usually spot-on, and never a waste of one’s time—as evidenced by the online community that seems to be building around this thing. C’mon, join the fun.

Regular blogging resumes tomorrow. Or the day after. Or whenever the paint dries.

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The Queen of Patpong

Tim Hallinan’s The Queen of Patpong arrives in bookstores today and, come to think of it, so should you. Go ahead! Buy a few copies; get an early start on your Christmas shopping. Buy a copy for yourself, get one for your best friend, give one to your brother’s ex-wife’s sister’s boyfriend. Give a copy to your third cousin in Paducah. Or buy a box of them and hand them out to homeless people on a downtown street corner.

Seriously, The Queen of Patpong is a great, good read; Kirkus Reviews liked it enough to give it a star (getting a star out of Kirkus involves about the same amount of effort as squeezing river rock until it bleeds). If I gave out stars with my reviews, The Queen of Patpong would get five of them. Yeah, it’s that good.

Speaking of reviews, you can read my review of The Queen of Patpong here. If you click on the links near the end of the review, you’ll find other reviews, author info, lots of good stuff for dedicated readers and writers of thriller fiction. You won’t be disappointed.

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A Reader's Night Out

Having written reviews of a couple of Timothy Hallinan’s books (A Nail Through the Heart, Breathing Water), and having corresponded with Tim—either by e-mail or by virtue of blog comments—on several occasions, I eagerly awaited his arrival (Wednesday night, September 30^th) at Murder by the Book, in southeast Portland, as he blew through town on the last leg of his Breathing Water book tour.

Determined not to let this opportunity to meet Tim slip by, I’d begun planning for the event in early June, when I first learned that he’d be on tour in September. I diligently organized my own affairs so as to avoid conflicts with Tim’s scheduled appearance; checked the progress of his tour almost daily on his blog; reserved a Zipcar (more than three weeks in advance) to meet my transportation needs for the long-awaited evening event.

It was probably more by design than by accident that I arrived at the appointed place an hour earlier than the appointed time, but having an hour to kill gave me both opportunity and excuse to peruse a large selection of new and used mystery/thriller/suspense novels—many of which I’ve read and many more which I have not—including offerings from Dean Koontz, Stephen King, Tami Hoag, Patricia Cornwell, David Baldacci, Steve Martini, Tess Gerritsen, and quite a few others. It’s comforting to know that there will never be a shortage of reading material in the fiction genres I prefer.

Upon his arrival, Tim apologized profusely for being late (seems he was trapped for 20 minutes, on the wrong side of the river, by a bridge in the raised position), but he could have been later and still been early. I cleverly introduced myself by forgetting to introduce myself, launching instead into an immediate discussion of his long trip (then over 8,000 miles), the kind of car he drives (an Infiniti), and his on-board navigation system (named Doris, but which might have better been named—to borrow from Heinlein’s The Number of the Beast—Gay Deceiver), which led him into an anti-climactic but humorous confrontation with a pair of underzealous Kansas cops.

One of the things I most like about Timothy Hallinan is his affability, his congeniality, his willingness to engage with his readers (okay, three of the things I most like about Tim). Yes, he’s a gifted writer and storyteller, but there’s more—much more. Because he’s comfortably familiar with his subject matter, he speaks without hesitation or faltering or frequent interruptions punctuated by “uhs,” “ers,” and “umms.” When Tim talks about his Bangkok novels, or the city of Bangkok, or the people of Bangkok, or the economy, government or religion of Thailand, it’s as if he’s reading from a teleprompter; the narrative flows like a river. Of course, there was no teleprompter in evidence, nor so much as a single page of notes (although, I suppose, it’s possible that Tim had his main talking points tattooed on the inside of his eyelids).

The PowerPoint presentation, around which Tim’s talk was structured, produced some stunning visuals that captured Bangkok at its best—and at its worst. The thing that intrigues me most about Bangkok is that it’s a vibrant modern city whose entire population seems to live simultaneously in the past, present, and future. But it was Tim’s mention of the disparity between rich and poor and the corruption that runs rampant at all levels of Thai government that proved particularly insightful. It was at that point that I realized he could just as easily have been talking about social hierarchies and government in the U.S.; there really isn’t that much difference (the Golden Rule—those who have the money make the rules—applies everywhere).

A natural-born teacher, Tim managed to convey more useful information in 30 minutes than my high school social studies teacher was capable of in an entire semester. Had Mr. Hallinan been the teacher in that long-ago social studies class instead of a dumb jock (wrestling coach, assistant football coach) masquerading as an educator, I’m sure I would have stayed around long enough to graduate. As it was, I had no patience for the bullshit and wasn’t about to let school get in the way of my education. An ineffective educator not only denies students an education, but is nothing more than a thief of students’ time. Life’s too short.

After Tim’s presentation and subsequent book signing, a delightful young woman named Theresa—whom I’d met and talked with earlier in the evening—arranged an introduction to Portland novelist Bill Cameron (featured in Portland Noir, author of Lost Dog and Chasing Smoke), who also happened to attend. That introduction led me to purchase two more books—both signed by their author—and garnered an invitation to submit my contact information so Bill can put me on his ARC list before his new book comes out next year.

It may be something of an understatement to say it was a productive reader’s night out. As a first-time attendee at a book signing, my expectations had been exceeded in every possible way. As the door to Murder by the Book closed behind me and I began the long walk back to my car weighed down by a shopping bag full of books, I knew that someday soon I’d be back.

There are, after all, other books to read. And other authors to meet.

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Breathing Water in Shadow Country

Late last Wednesday afternoon, I finally finished writing my review of Breathing Water, a novel by Timothy Hallinan, and posted it online. With that belated accomplishment behind me, I fired off a brief e-mail to Tim to reassure him that the ARC he sent to me in early June had indeed fulfilled its purpose. A return e-mail from Tim graced my inbox on Thursday morning; his message said, in part:

“So THAT's why I became a writer. Reactions like this make it all worthwhile, even the days (weeks) when it's impossible to write a simple declarative sentence. Weeks like this one, in fact.”

You see, Tim frequently alludes to his struggles with writer’s block, an affliction that affects most writers (with the possible exceptions of Dean Koontz and Stephen King) at one time or another during their careers. I, too, struggle with writer’s block—usually on a daily basis—and I tend to regard any day that I’m able to add at least a single finished paragraph to whatever project I happen to be working on to be a highly productive day.

Unfortunately, when it came to writing my Breathing Water review, I couldn’t attain even that low standard. Having written more than two dozen reviews—none of which took longer than two or three days to write—I reasonably expected this one to emerge in a comparable time frame. But it just. Wasn’t. Gonna. Happen.

But let me begin at the beginning. When the Breathing Water ARC arrived at my door, on June 3^rd, I was about a 100 pages into the second of two books I’d checked out of the local library a couple of weeks earlier, and I needed to finish it before starting another. Five days after its arrival I began reading Breathing Water, which I finished reading six days later. In the meantime, I’d returned the borrowed books to the library and checked out two more.

For me, the problem with having an unread book on hand (and no other reading in progress) is that I can’t wait to start reading it. As soon as I closed the covers on Breathing Water, I immediately launched into reading Shadow Country, a huge, rambling novel (892 pages), by Peter Matthiessen, about the fictional E.J. Watson’s life in the Florida Everglades during the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. And that’s when things really started to bog down.

Instead of banging out the review when plot and characters were still fresh in my mind, I procrastinated. And, as I became mired ever deeper in Shadow Country’s complexities of plot and character, my memories of the sequence of events in Breathing Water became hopelessly scrambled. When I was finally ready to start writing the review, I discovered I wasn’t ready to write the review; no way was I going to write a coherent review based on a quicksand foundation of fading memories. My only solution was to read Breathing Water a second time.

It proved to be a wise decision. A second reading not only refreshed my memory of Breathing Water, it restored my enthusiasm for the story and gave me a new appreciation of Tim’s writing skills. Even minor details that had somehow escaped my attention in the first go round took on new meaning and greater importance. Take Breathing Water’s opening sentence*, for instance:

“The man behind the desk is a dim shape framed in blinding light, a god emerging from the brilliance of infinity.”

Powerful imagery born of pure genius. The first time I read those words I thought, oh, that’s good, Tim. The second time I read those words I thought, oh, now that’s just absofuckinglutely brilliant. Compare Breathing Water’s opening sentence with another great and memorable opening sentence, this from Stephen King’s The Gunslinger (first book in The Dark Tower series):

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”

To my mind, these are two of the best story openings ever written; they’re the kinds of story openings whose raw energy draw in readers and help to create legions of fans for the authors who write them. And when such powerful, well written openings are backed up by equally powerful, well written stories, the results are—more often than not—spectacular.

Stephen King already knows this.

So does Timothy Hallinan.

*The Breathing Water ARC is an unedited, pre-publication version of the story, so I can’t say with absolute certainty that this beginning will make the final cut. What I can say with absolute certainty is that if it doesn’t make the final cut, Tim has an idiot for an editor.

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