Jack London: An American Life by Earle Labor

Finally, a definitive biography
Jack London has been the subject of many biographies, but no one’s ever really succeeded in producing a balanced, authoritative account of his life. Earle Labor was one of the first scholars to recognize the literary value of London’s writings and has been a leader in Jack London studies for decades. Jack London: An American Life, published at the tail end of 2013, is the culmination of Labor’s career and likely the best overall biography of London ever written.

Unlike so many previous London biographers, Labor doesn’t have an axe to grind or a sexy thesis to push, like “Jack London committed suicide,” (see Irving Stone’s Sailor on Horseback) or “Jack London had a homosexual relationship” (see James L. Haley’s Wolf). In the preface, Labor asserts that London’s success was a uniquely American phenomenon and a fortuitous product of his times. Yet Labor never really defends this thesis. He simply presents the events of London’s life in as clear and comprehensive a manner as possible, and let’s the reader judge for himself. Labor has read everything that exists on London and has interacted personally with many of the man’s friends and family. He takes the varying accounts, perspectives, and anecdotes from this multitude of sources, reconciles them with one another, and unites them into a cohesive life story. The result is incredibly detail-heavy, but never boring. I have read almost everything London’s ever written, as well as several biographies, but while reading Labor’s version I managed to learn something new on nearly every page.

There’s not a whole lot of literary criticism in this book. Labor has already covered that in other volumes, and there isn’t much room for it here. London’s life was every but as exciting and adventure-filled as one of his novels. The diverse stages of his life—writer, sailor, hobo, oyster pirate, gold seeker, socialist statesman, war correspondent, world traveler, rancher—are familiar to any London fan, but how they all fit together is often a confusing puzzle. Labor doesn’t play games with the chronology and clearly shows how all these fascinating episodes coalesce into the overall arc of London’s life. Though Labor has devoted his entire life to the study of Jack London, this is no exercise in hero worship. The biographer has plenty of praise for his subject’s accomplishments, but doesn’t shy away from his faults. At times Labor dwells on certain events longer than he should. There are four complete chapters on the cruise of the Snark, for example, and he devotes far more ink than necessary to some obscure essays, like “The Golden Poppy.” Yet, as a diehard fan of London, I can forgive sins of inclusion far more easily than sins of omission. Thanks to Labor’s relentless thoroughness, the reader really gets a clear sense of what daily life was like for London and his wife Charmian, through times both extraordinary and mundane.

One inconvenience to the serious reader results from an editorial rather than an authorial choice. Labor supports his research with copious notes, but the publisher—as is far too common these days—commits the annoying sin of not including reference numbers to the notes within the text (at least in the ebook edition), as if a few superscript numerals would scare readers away from buying the book.

The best way to learn about Jack London is to read his own works. Beyond that, if you’re only going to read one biography of London, this is the one to read. London’s perspective on his own life was far from impartial, and he didn’t always adhere to the facts, but, lucky for us, we now have Labor’s book to set the record straight.
If you liked this review, please follow the link below to Amazon.com and give me a “helpful” vote. Thank you.
http://www.amazon.com/review/R2K0Y2WPBHH0S0/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

Hard Looks: Adapted Stories by Andrew Vachss

A sampling of dark crime fiction from a great comics series
I often envy my father’s and grandfather’s generations for growing up in the golden age of the pulp fiction magazines. In those days every newsstand was loaded with inexpensive popular fiction of every conceivable genre, setting, and level of quality. In more recent times almost all of the pulp magazines have become extinct, and the niche they occupied has largely been filled by comic books. Ever since the “Silver Age” of the 1950s, however, superheroes have dominated the comics, shoving all other genres from the racks. In the early 1990s, back when I used to haunt the comic shops, one publisher that attempted to rectify this matter was Dark Horse Comics. They published a line of quality titles in the areas of movie adaptations, science fiction, horror, mystery, and crime. One series that fell under the latter category was Hard Looks, which ran from 1992 to 1993 and consisted of graphic interpretations of short stories by crime writer Andrew Vachss. In 1994, Dark Horse published a Hard Looks trade paperback, with a second edition in 2002. This collection includes 17 stories by Vachss. Eleven of them are comic adaptations; the other six are text stories accompanied by spot illustrations.

I read a couple Vachss books twenty-some years ago and was never very impressed with him as a novelist. His short stories are better, and lend themselves extremely well to graphic adaptation. What I like best about Vachss is simply his commitment to the comics medium. Hard Looks is only one of several comics projects he’s undertaken. Why don’t more genre fiction writers follow his example? The stories in Hard Looks are gritty tales of urban crime. The images—provided by artists Geof Darrow, Gary Gianni, Dave Gibbons, and others—often have the dark and stark flavor of film noir. Yet for the most part, this is not the sort of glorified, romanticized violence one finds in Frank Miller’s Sin City. Vachss has worked as an attorney, a social worker, a prison director, and a child advocate, and incorporates experiences from these occupations into his stories. His tales are populated by teenage gangsters, dirty cops, shifty lawyers, child molesters, rapists, and serial killers. Occasionally he drifts farther afield. “Half Breed” ventures into fantasy and horror territory, “Warlord” is set in the world of 1950s street gangs, and “Lynch Law” is a racially charged tale set in the American South in 1959. The rest take place in a brutal criminal underbelly of contemporary America that’s all the more shocking because it’s based on reality.

Not every story is a masterpiece, but overall they are quite good. Among the best are “Drive By,” in which a teenager tries to prove his worth to a gangster by attacking a rival gang; “Treatment,” which deals with the psychological rehabilitation of a sex offender; “Step on a Crack,” about two childhood friends who drift apart to opposite sides of the law; and “Hostage,” in which a police negotiator tries to coax an unstable gunman to release his captive. They’re all written in an unflinchingly realistic style and often end with a surprising twist.

The Hard Looks series ran for ten issues. This is not a complete compendium, but rather a “greatest hits” collection. Dark Horse recently published a second collection entitled Harder Looks, which appears to be available only in e-book format. What they should really do is publish a complete collection of all ten issues in one inexpensive, newsprint omnibus edition, similar to the Marvel Essentials series. Hard Looks was a great experiment in comic literature, and deserves to be resurrected and made available to a whole new audience. Until that happens, however, this volume will do just fine.

Stories in this collection

Drive By (art by Gary Gianni)

Replay (art by Bruce Jones)

Half Breed (text; illustrations by Geof Darrow)

Born Bad (art by Doug D’Antiquis)

Lynch Law (art by Warren Pleece)

Head Case (text; illustrations by Geof Darrow) 

A Flash of White (art by David Lloyd)

Cripple (art by George Pratt)

Statute of Limitations (text; illustrations by Tim Bradstreet) 

Treatment (art by Chris Moeller)

Tag (text only) 

Step on a Crack (text; illustrations by Warren Pleece) 

Hostage (art by Gary Gianni)

Dumping Ground (art by Dave Gibbons)

Date Rape (text; illustrations by Tony Fitzpatrick) 

Warlord (art by Paul Guinan and Tony Adkins)

Man to Man (art by Jack Pollack)

If you like this review, please follow the link below to Amazon.com and give me a “helpful” vote. Thank you.
http://www.amazon.com/review/R1XK75JBRHP4RR/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

The Pit by Frank Norris

Can’t stop the wheat
The Pit is the final novel by Frank Norris, one of America’s most promising novelists of the early 20th century. It was published in 1903, shortly after his untimely death at the age of 32. The novel revolves around events at the Chicago Board of Trade, and the title refers to the area of the trading floor where wheat is bought and sold. The Pit is the second novel in a planned trilogy known as The Epic of the Wheat that was cut short by Norris’s demise. The first volume of that trilogy was his 1901 masterpiece The Octopus, but no knowledge of that prior book is required to understand or enjoy The Pit.

Following the death of her parents, Laura Dearborn moves from a conservative town in Massachusetts to live in Chicago with her sister and widowed aunt. Within a few months of her arrival, she has already attracted the attention of three suitors. Sheldon Corthell is an artist with the cultured tastes and refined manner of a smooth operator. Landry Court, a stockbroker’s clerk, harbors an intense, boyish infatuation with Laura and places her upon a proverbial pedestal. Curtis Jadwin, a real estate investor and self-made man of wealth, is a bit of a mystery man. While his maturity and self-reliance distinguishes him from the gushing Landry, he lacks the elegant social graces of Corthell. Despite all the attention from these three eligible bachelors, Laura asserts her independence and vows to fly solo. Regardless, the lives of all these characters are soon caught up either directly or indirectly in the financial machinations of wheat trading. As fortunes rise and fall, their lives are all irrevocably changed by the relentless maelstrom of wheat and money.

The more you know about stock trading, the more you will enjoy this book. Norris offers little assistance and simply expects his reader to know the ins and outs of bulls and bears, selling short, margin calls, and the like. Even readers who get lost in the financial details, however, can nonetheless enjoy the excitement with which Norris portrays the proceedings. In a manner highly evocative of Emile Zola—a writer he very much tried to emulate—Norris vividly emphasizes how the dealings on the floor of the Board of Trade reverberate throughout the world, effecting the lives and livelihoods of millions. The supply of and demand for wheat is a force of nature, a raging river of grain that sweeps up all who become involved with it. In keeping with Zola’s naturalistic style, the characters fates are largely determined by nature and nurture, but in Norris’s novel each is given the opportunity to wrestle their fate through the exercise of free will.

The Pit is one of Norris’s better books, though not quite as good as The Octopus or McTeague. Once the reader becomes aware of the big deal upon which the book centers, the arc of the plot becomes somewhat predictable, but Norris fleshes the story out with so many moving and memorable details that he has no problem sustaining the reader’s interest. At times he ventures a little into soap opera territory, particularly with the romantic elements. Laura is a beautiful and independent woman, yet self-absorbed and prone to high and mighty histrionics. At times the reader can’t decide whether to pity or despise her. Yet though she may be a drama queen, Norris does portray her as a realistic human being. As is typical of his mature naturalistic style, the world that Norris creates is unflinchingly true-to-life and an accurate reflection of the society of his time.

The Pit is now in the public domain, so you can download it for free from Amazon or Project Gutenberg. For those who prefer a paper edition, however, the Penguin Classics paperback has a very good introductory essay by Joseph R. McElrath, Jr. and extensive notes that helpfully illuminate many of the cultural references contained in the book.
If you liked this review, please follow the link below to Amazon.com and give me a “helpful” vote. Thank you.
http://www.amazon.com/review/RXNDH2D1G8FRG/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

Flight from Tomorrow by H. Beam Piper

Seeking refuge in the past
H. Beam Piper’s novelette Flight from Tomorrow was originally published in the September/October 1950 issue of the pulp magazine Science Fiction Stories. A hundred centuries from now, the great dictator Hradzka is overthrown by a rebellion and hunted down by his enemies, led by the military leader General Zarvas. Hradzka escapes in a time machine and ends up in our present century, where he attempts to blend in. Hradzka was clearly not a benevolent ruler in his own time, and he looks down on the people of the 20th century with the same tyrannical attitude. They are merely ants to be squashed on his way to world domination. Having such a protagonist is fun for the reader because half the time you are rooting for him to succeed with his nefarious plans, while the other half of the time you loathe him enough to want to see him destroyed.

This excellent science fiction story happens to be an exciting and suspenseful thriller, but not at the expense of the science. Time travel is not merely a plot element employed to set up action sequences, but an integral part of the story. Piper does a great job of balancing the cat-and-mouse fun of a good chase with some thought-provoking theorizing on what happens when the future clashes with the past. Like any pulp tale from the ’50s, the years have imparted a certain degree of unintentional campiness, but Piper’s sci-fi visions have held up well over the decades, and his well-crafted prose elevates this piece above the typical standards of genre fiction. Today’s sci-fi fans will still find it an engaging and entertaining read.

If you are downloading the free Kindle file from Amazon (with the red and tan cover image), you’re only getting this one story. There have also been one or two paper collections of Piper stories entitled Flight from Tomorrow. Amazon’s web site may jumble the reviews for these various editions, so check to make sure what you’re getting before you download. If you want a sizeable, inexpensive e-book collection of Piper’s work, I would suggest The H. Beam Piper Megapack from Wildside Press.
If you liked this review, please follow the link below to Amazon.com and give me a “helpful” vote. Thank you.
http://www.amazon.com/review/R2VNDISLPR1FJ4/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

Uprooted: The Life and Art of Ernest Lindner by Terrence Heath

More life than art
Ernest Lindner is an Austrian-born artist who emigrated to Canada in 1926 and became one of Saskatchewan’s best known painters. I first encountered his work in a book on Canadian printmaking. After seeing his linocut prints, which are absolutely phenomenal, I wanted to find out more about Lindner and his work, and this book seems to be just about all that’s available on him. To my disappointment, his printmaking is barely covered in this book. The author mentions his linocuts as if there were merely a hobby. Only one linocut print is pictured in the book, and it’s a still life not wholly indicative of his prowess in the medium.

Uprooted: The Life and Art of Ernest Lindner was published in 1983 by Fifth House, a Saskatoon publisher. It’s no coincidence that the word “Life” comes before “Art” in the subtitle, because this is primarily a biography, not a showcase for his work. The book is chock full of historical photos of Lindner and his family, but there aren’t a whole lot of artworks pictured. Of the paintings that are included, half of them aren’t very good. Even the author Terrence Heath, a close friend of Lindner’s, admits that Lindner’s painting work really didn’t reach a remarkable level of quality until he was in his sixties. There are 16 pages of color plates in the back of the book. Among these there are about 8 paintings from the late ‘60s and early ‘70s that are excellent. These extremely detailed close-ups of forest undergrowth and tree bark are rendered in a hyperrealistic manner that combines the subtle attention to detail of Andrew Wyeth with the photographic clarity of Richard Estes. They succeed both as faithful representations of nature and as beautiful, abstract tapestries. Outside of this impressive period of work, the rest of the landscapes are pedestrian by comparison. There’s also a series of drawings of nudes from the 1970s, but they look like typical nudes from the ‘70s—well-executed, but by now a bit dated.

The text by Heath is above average. Unlike a lot of regional artist biographies, it’s more than just an elaborate resumé or an adulatory eulogy. Lindner himself contributes a chapter on his experiences with the Austrian army in World War I. Heath covers Lindner’s childhood and young adulthood quite well. He goes beyond mere facts and delves into Lindner’s psychology and philosophy of life. Despite the fact that the author and artist were friends, some passages paint a rather unflattering portrait of “Ernie”. He comes across as a womanizer and at times emotionally childish. He fled Austria to avoid bankruptcy, leaving a wife and child behind. All these details make for an interesting life story, but what’s missing from this artist’s biography is the art. There is some interesting coverage of Lindner’s involvement with the Kingston Conference of 1941, an important gathering of Canadian artists. Later in his career, Lindner encountered New York art critic Clement Greenberg, the spokesman for abstract expressionism, who had a positive impact on his art. Overall, however, there’s very little about Lindner’s development as a painter. One theme that’s repeated throughout the book is that with all his teaching and administrative work with arts organizations, Lindner just didn’t have any time to paint. Perhaps that explains the poor selection of images in the book.

The fact that the book was printed in the 1980s doesn’t do it any favors either. Today’s printing technologies would allow for more color and better reproduction. Heath’s text is good enough to merit resurrection in a new edition. It would be great if some Saskatchewan publisher would step up to the plate and reissue this much-needed retrospective of Lindner, hopefully adding about 50 more images. Should that ever happen, please, next time, don’t forget the prints.

Forest, 1940, linocut print, 11.5 x 14" (Not pictured in book)

Puffballs, 1971, watercolor, 29.5 x 21.25"

If you liked this review, please follow the link below to Amazon.com and give me a “helpful” vote. Thank you.
http://www.amazon.com/review/R20BJBW17VDBI6/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

Micromégas by Voltaire

Science fiction in the Age of Enlightenment
I have the utmost respect for Voltaire as a thinker, a historical personage, and an outspoken advocate of reason and freedom. During the Age of Enlightenment, he may very well have been the most influential man in the Western world. He left his indelible mark in the realms of philosophy, literature, politics, history, culture, and science. Nevertheless, despite my admiration for the man, I don’t usually enjoy his writings all that much. Most of his literary output was satirical, and regrettably his humor has not held up well over the last quarter of a millennium. This work, however, is a notable exception.

Micromégas, originally published in 1752, is a short story consisting of seven brief chapters. Despite being written almost three centuries ago, it is a work of science fiction, and remarkably innovative for its time. The story, in a nutshell, could best be described as Gulliver’s Travels in outer space. In this case the traveler is a being from a gargantuan planet in the Sirius star system. Named Micromégas, this creature is of a colossal size proportionate to his home world, being 120,000 feet tall. Upon arriving in our solar system his first stop is the planet Saturn, where he makes the acquaintance of a local scholar of only 6,000 feet in stature. After some conversation on the nature of their two worlds, the two decide to go traveling together. They make a trip to Earth, where they encounter mankind.

Voltaire’s humor is hilarious and thought-provoking throughout, even for the 21st-century reader. Micromégas and his Saturnian companion prove to be quite adept at cultural criticism. The difference in perspective between the three planetary cultures is analogous to the difficulties in foreign relations between the giant empires of Europe and the tiny kingdoms they dominate, or the insensitivity of the wealthy aristocracy to the unwashed masses. Despite their obvious superiorities, these beings are not without their own problems and faults. The Saturnian possesses 72 senses; the Sirian 1,000. Yet, they both have “plenty of time to be bored.” Their life spans are proportionately long, and their worlds are blessed with a corresponding abundance, yet, much like their human counterparts, neither is satisfied with their lot and only wants more. Initially, the two extraterrestrial visitors can’t even perceive the existence of life on earth, and once they do make contact with the earthlings, they doubt that the tiny beings possess any intelligence whatsoever. Through this outsider perspective, Voltaire points out the insignificance and pettiness of much of our earthly affairs. Out of the scientific awakening of the Renaissance arose a realization that mankind is nothing but a speck of dust amid the workings of the universe. This rejection of the anthropocentric view that had persisted for centuries rocked the religious establishment. Voltaire, on the other hand, revels in such iconoclasm.

His enthusiasm and humor is infectious. Micromégas is a thoroughly entertaining read. Like any work from the 18th century, some of the cultural references may be lost on today’s reader. The ending of the story is also weak. Voltaire wraps it up too abruptly. The last few sentences comprise a punchline that’s not equal to the joke that came before. Yet there’s plenty to enjoy in this little story, and its importance as one of the earliest works of science fiction is undeniable. Even those who would never dream of reading any literature of the French Enlightenment should give Micromégas a try. It’s truly in a class by itself.
If you like this review, please follow the link below to Amazon.com and give me a “helpful” vote. Thank you.
http://www.amazon.com/review/R2PBWTCR23Y30A/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm

The Silent Bullet by Arthur B. Reeve

American Sherlock? Hardly.
Craig Kennedy, Scientific Detective, was a popular character in fiction magazines of the early 20th century. At least 80 Kennedy stories by Arthur B. Reeve were published in Cosmopolitan, and he appeared in other periodicals as well. These stories were later gathered into collections and published in book form. The Silent Bullet, originally published in 1912, is the first of these collections. It contains twelve Kennedy cases, including the title selection.

Kennedy is a professor of chemistry and an ardent proponent of the application of science to the solving of crimes. His sidekick Walter Jameson, a reporter for the New York Star, narrates the stories. Former college roommates, the two have continued to live together into their adult bachelorhoods, and their apartment is frequented by visitors desiring their advice on mysterious matters. This is all blatantly derivative of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, of course. Instead of Holmes’ method of deductive reasoning, however, Kennedy usually employs laboratory experimentation or utilizes some technological apparatus in solving his cases.

I enjoy vintage pulp fiction, and I really wanted to like this collection, but once I got into the stories I was quite disappointed. Because Kennedy’s adventures take place about 40 years after those of Holmes, the science is a little more advanced, but still, today’s readers will find many of Kennedy’ scientific methods either faulty or just not very interesting. In a couple of cases, for example, he employs the newfangled invention known as the microphone. Thankfully, no one seems to notice the hundreds of yards of wire he strings about to make it work. In another instance he uses a light bulb and two wires to warn the police—hardly cutting edge technology. Even worse, much of the evidence he uncovers is circumstantial. Apparently in Kennedy’s time a lie detector test, to cite but one example, was enough for a conviction. The best of these stories are mediocre, the rest are just bad. They are disappointing individually, but taken as a whole they’re even more annoying because they are so repetitive. Because Kennedy is a chemist, almost every crime involves some kind of poison, and in almost every case, the most obvious suspect ends up being the guilty party. The second half of the book is a slight improvement on the first, as Reeve deviates from his monotonous template and introduces a little variety into the proceedings. In “Spontaneous Combustion,” Kennedy does the kind of blood work one might find in today’s CSI television shows, and the ending is not entirely predictable. In “Artificial Paradise,” Kennedy and Jameson ingest peyote. The latter’s description of his hallucinations is quite enjoyable, but the story is ruined by some questionable science that defies belief.

Despite his exceptional intelligence, Kennedy is not as arrogant as Sherlock Holmes. In fact, Kennedy has no personality whatsoever. I don’t believe we are ever even given a physical description of Kennedy or Jameson, other than Kennedy smokes cigars. The two merely say and do the bare minimum to push the story forward. What Reeve apparently did not learn from reading Conan Doyle is that the personality quirks of the protagonist are a vital part of the story. Without them, the proceedings are dull and lifeless. Since these are some of the earliest Kennedy stories, it’s possible that Reeve improved with time and that not all of the scientific detective’s adventures are as lame as those found in The Silent Bullet. I, however, don’t intend to find out. I’d rather go back and reread The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Stories in this collection

The Silent Bullet 

The Scientific Cracksman 

The Bacteriological Detective 

The Deadly Tube 

The Seismograph Adventure 

The Diamond Maker 

The Azure Ring 

“Spontaneous Combustion” 

Terror in the Air

The Black Hand 

Artificial Paradise 

The Steel Door 

If you liked this review, please follow the link below to Amazon.com and give me a “helpful” vote. Thank you.
http://www.amazon.com/review/R23R92HV1O28XX/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm