Posts filed under ‘READER’S OPPORTUNITIES’
ISAAC’S STORM BY ERIK LARSON
I just completed reading Isaac’s Storm by Erik Larson published in 1999. This was my second reading of this impressive and informative work on the great hurricane which devastated Galveston in 1900.
I wanted to revisit this book during hurricane season. Looking back, it would have been more enriching read done the year Katrina devastated New Orleans and the Mississippi coast or Sandy the New Jersey coast and surrounding area. More on Sandy and my Seaside Heights connection in an upcoming post.
This book will give you an appreciation of the current state of storm tracking and weather forecasting. I recommend you read it to compare today’s weather service with that of the late 1800’s when storms appeared from nowhere unannounced with prediction dependent on inflated egos and politics. Larson does an excellent job delving into the competition between the American weather bureau stationed in Cuba and the Cuban forecasters; how they were at odds on the future of the storm passing Cuba. The Cubans speculated that the storm would head into the Gulf of Mexico and impact Galveston and the Americans that it would veer north along the Atlantic coast discounting the accumulated experience of the Cubans. The competition between the two groups was such that the Cubans were forbidden to communicate their forecasts by telegram the Washington. At the same time, the Americans were forbidden to use the word hurricane in a forecast unless it was a certainty and Washington granted permission. The result of this egocentric approach was a storm of monumental proportions taking Galveston by surprise and claiming more than 6000 lives.
The title of the book is referring to the fact that the name of the head of the Galveston weather bureau was Isaac Cline. In addition to an observer to the storm he was also a victim losing his house and pregnant wife. Larson does an excellent job of following Cline and other Galveston residents through the horror and devastation. He also goes into great detail on the formation and development of a hurricane.
I am a huge fan of Erik Larson’s work, especially this gripping tale of death and destruction in Galveston in 1900.
STRUGGLING TO GET IT WRITE: HOW MUCH OF ‘YOU’ IS IN YOUR CHARACTERS?
This is a question I often ask myself of the author while I read his novel. How many of the characteristics of a main or minor character are yours?
I’ve recently finished reading Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut. It’s a strange, enjoyable read. In the book, one of the characters is the creator of the characters in the story which makes for a strange interaction. The ‘author’ character refers to elements of his past. I’ve also recently completed reading And So It Goes by Charles J. Shields, and all the facts and incidents mentioned by the ‘author’ character are also true for Vonnegut.
As in the above, what I like to do when I find an author whose work I enjoy is seek out facts about the mind behind the words by reading their biography. Here’s a sampling of whose fiction I’ve enjoyed and whose lives I wanted to discover.
I expect that you know by now that I enjoy writing horror. One of my favorite authors of the genre is H. P. Lovecraft. I have a volume of his complete works and occasionally visit the volume to enjoy a short story or one of his longer works. His writing is quite dated but I find the worlds he creates interesting. Lovecraft gave birth to a subgenre of horror which lives on. Sometime ago I read a biography of his short life. I recall he died around the age of 49. He initially fancied himself a poet but eventually fell into horror much to our benefit.
Frederick Exley is a writer I found to be both funny and sad. For a great read, find a copy of his novel, A Fan’s Notes, a work following the career of Frank Gifford and is a weakly veiled account of Exley. The biography of Exley I read confirmed this. As an example of Exley’s outlook, in one episode of the book the main character thinks he is dying. He decides to practically take up residence in a bar and then relates how he gained twenty pounds while wasting away from cancer. You’ve got to feel sorry for the guy and yet love him. As I said, funny but sad.
Jack Kerouac is another author I enjoy and read his biography. His classic novel, On the Road, closely reflects his life with the names changed to protect the guilty.
So many authors endure lives that are far from pleasant, something I’ll touch on in a latter post concerning the merits of good vs bad in an author and his characters. But with their many and sometimes tragic faults, we readers reap the rewards of their work.
So back to my original question to you writers: How much of your characters reflect details of your life? As far as my work is concerned, there is one character in my novel, New Moon Rising, who is me, and I’d like to challenge my readers to name the character and reap a reward.
To be continued…
REFDESK.COM, AN AWESOME WEBSITE FOR WRITERS AND NEWS JUNKIES
,’Refdesk,com is a website I check on a daily basis. It overflows with connection to other sites of varying interests and links to newspapers to name of few of the rewards it offers.
Here’s the link.
As a science fiction writer and also a reading addict, I thought I’d share three sites I always check.
The first is ‘Today In Literature’ which serves to provide a wealth of literary background.
http://www.todayinliterature.com/
The same can be said for ‘Writer’s Almanac’ hosted by Garrison Keillor.
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/
Finally, there’s ‘Science Daily’ chock-full of articles on up-to-the-minute scientific findings. I use this site as a source of ideas for stories. If the lead story in Top Science News generate a story idea for someone I’ll eat all my Arthur C. Clarke novels.
NEW MOON RISING ON SALE IN OXFORD
That’s Oxford, PA.
You can now find my novel, New Moon Rising, on sale a Bookplace, a delightful used book store owned by Virginia Beards. If you love books as much as I, and live in southeast Pennsylvania you owe it to yourself to visit this small treasure, not only for what great finds may come your way but to visit with Virginia.
Virginia taught literature at Penn and the depth and breadth of her literary knowledge is truly awesome. Pick up a book and there is a good chance she is familiar with the contents, or for one of the books I purchased, also knew the author. She is also an accomplished poet and her book of poetry, Exit Pursued By A Bear And Others, is available at the store.
Here is a link to the bookstore’s website.
Give it a try.
NEED A BEACH READ?
Need that book for the beach you won’t be able to put down?
Give New Moon Rising a try!
Here’s a taste.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pasadena
A phone ringing in the early morning hours is seldom a harbinger of good news. When Wade’s phone rang at two thirty-five in the morning, he came out of a peaceful sleep and with dread, reached for the receiver.
“Wade, this is Jeff at the lab.” The excitement in the young graduate student’s voice spoke of disaster before he revealed the reason for his early morning call. “It may have started. We have seismic activity along the whole Hawaiian chain. We have earthquake activity measuring 8.6 on the Richter scale. It’s the strangest earthquake, associated with the islands, anyone here has seen. The earthquake occurred at 4:20PM Hawaiian time. We cannot pinpoint the origin. It’s a series of earthquakes occurring simultaneously beneath the whole island chain. There have already been reports of tsunamis from Midway Island, the Marshall Islands, and the Samoan Islands. New Zealand, Australia, Central America, and China are all bracing for a giant wave. No one knows if the tsunami will be as bad as 2004.”
Jeff responded, “This is amazing! Earthquakes like this have never been described before. No one will know what to expect.”
“Jeff, try to calm down. Juliet and I will be at the lab as soon as we can.
Have the proper authorities been notified?”
“Are you kidding? Every lab in the world recorded this event. Damage reports are already coming in from Hawaii and the damage is widespread.”
“We are also getting signs of volcanic activity around the dormant volcano you instrumented on the island of Hawaii. There have been reports of ash spewing from several volcanoes on some of the islands that haven’t had activity for hundreds, or in some cases, thousands of years.
Wade’s thoughts instantly went to Foster on Oahu. “Is there any report of activity of Oahu?”
“Koolau volcano on Oahu is reported to be putting out ash and smoke.” Wade finished by saying, “We’re on our way, Jeff.”
Wade tried to control his own emotions as he turned toward Juliet. She had propped up her pillow and was listening to the conversation. Just from hearing Wade’s end, she knew that the news was not good.
With fear in his voice, he said, “It looks like it’s begun.” He went on to tell her all that he knew from Jeff as they hurriedly dressed and set out for the lab.
As they approached the Geology Building, every window was illuminated. Wade noticed that the parking lot was already half full as they pulled into his
organized and assigned specific tasks.
A group was told to keep track of earthquake damage and aftershocks. Another was told to track tsunamis, and a third group was told to monitor the Hawaiian Islands for volcanic activity. Constant contact was established with labs in Australia, New Zealand and their colleagues in Japan. There was an attempt made to contact the lab in Hilo at the University of Hawaii—but the lines were out.
With all the phones and computers manned, order began to emerge from the chaos. Wade had a chance to inspect the seismic tracings from the earthquake beneath the Hawaiian Islands. They represented not a single quake, but a long series of overlapping quakes. The location was difficult to determine. The earthquakes occurred at a series of points beneath the Pacific Ocean surrounding the Hawaiian Islands. The character of these quakes fit into the scenario along with the other events that occurred, supporting Professor Humphries’ theory. They were unprecedented in modern time.
Wade stood in the lab, holding the tracings, and wondered about his brother and all the rest of the population of Hawaii, people in love with their paradise. So in love were the residents, that it may have cost countless lives to enjoy heaven on Earth just a little longer.
* * * *
Oahu
Foster continued to work at the surf shop and Heather at the bed and breakfast although each had little to do. Heather took her baby to work with her and found time to feed and care for him while she accomplished her tasks. The working conditions were ideal for caring for the baby. In fact, Lulu gave him so much attention, that if it weren’t for the fact Heather was breast-feeding; he would need no care at all.
Although life went on, there was a pall hanging over the islands knowing that its days might be numbered. Foster had become close friends with most of the surfers who congregated on the beach and shopped at the store. A few that were originally from the mainland returned home but all the native surfers chose to stay. For the most part, they were young men who loved the surf and sun and little else. When asked about their future, almost to a man, they talked about quality of life—not quantity.
Foster was working behind the counter one day while Joe was grabbing some lunch when his friend Rich Loana entered the shop.
“What can I do for you, Rich?”
“Just wanted to see if you’d be interested in doing some surfing later this afternoon. The waves are supposed to be great today.”
“I should be able to get away around four. I’ll meet you on the beach in back of the shop.”
“Sounds like a plan, Foster. I’ll see you then.”
After Rich left, Foster thought about a conversation he had with Rich months earlier, when the news of what might happen to Hawaii was released.
He had had similar conversations with a lot of the surfers he had gotten to know. One conversation with Rich stuck in his mind.
He’d asked Rich, “What will you do now, Rich?” “What do you mean—I’m going to surf.”
“No, you know what I’m talking about. When are you leaving?” “I’m not.”
“You can’t stay here, it’s not safe.”
“Listen Foster, I was born on this island, it’s my home, the only place I’ve ever lived. And surfing is the only thing I know how to do. I don’t have an education. I don’t have a skill. If I moved to the mainland, what would I do? I’d be a bum the rest of my life. I’m a bum here, but at least I have a chance to do what I love. If this theory is wrong – no harm done. If its right, I’ll be doing what I love doing right to the end.”
Foster found that most of the native-born Hawaiian surfers he talked to had a similar attitude. They were determined to embrace their ‘hang loose’ attitude of life right to the end.
* * * *
Traffic through the shop was light, had been for months. Three-thirty arrived and Foster told Joe he was thinking of riding some waves until Heather came home. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle this crowd all alone,” Joe said as he looked around the empty store. “Go ahead; get your butt on the beach.”
Foster got a couple good rides before Rich showed up. They rode together for a while until Rich caught a wave that Foster missed. Foster paddled back out to deeper water turned toward the beach and was preparing to get up on his board
It was 4:20.
He could see Rich on the beach taking a breather, when his friend suddenly fell to the sand. Foster thought to himself, “What the hell is he doing now?” Then he noticed branches falling from the palm trees. In quick succession, the roof of the shop caved in leaving a pile of rubble where the shop and apartment had been. He quickly paddled to shore, and as soon as his feet made contact with the sand, he fell to his knees in the shallow water. He looked up and down the beach and the few people still standing were holding onto a tree or other stabilizing object with looks of shock and disbelief on their faces.
The trembling lasted minutes, but it seemed like hours. Time slowed as the Earth shook. The violent shaking subsided, settling down to series of lesser and lesser ripples of movement. Foster ran around front and found Joe sitting on the grass clutching a blood-soaked towel to his head.
“Is this what we’ve been waiting for?” asked Joe. Foster pointed to the south. “What’s that Joe, a fire?” “If it is, it’s one hell of a fire.”
Then they noticed pillars of smoke dotting the horizon.
“I think some of our dead volcanoes have come to life. Come on, we need to get to the B&B. Although the trembling had ceased, the trembling of both
men had not. A mixture of adrenaline, fear, and awe fed emotions waiting for months to be released. Both men knew in their hearts THIS WAS IT.
They hopped into Joe’s jeep and began the short drive to the bed and breakfast. A drive that should have taken minutes, took nearly an hour. The narrow road was littered with tree branches and debris from collapsed buildings and clogged with people walking, stumbling in a state of shock, and not knowing where to go or what to do. Screams could be heard from some of the partially collapsed structures, but for now, aid was nonexistent.
Joe could see the column of smoke issuing to the sky before his business came into view. As they turned the last bend in the road, there stood the B&B, or at least what was left of it, engulfed in flames. The men felt relief when they saw Lulu and Heather standing in the parking lot holding the baby. Their clothes were torn and they were both covered in soot, but they were safe.
They parked the jeep a safe distance from the fire and approached the women. Lulu was in hysterics, sobbing and could not be consoled.
“Thank God you’re all safe. It’s only a building,” Joe said as he embraced his frantic wife.
All Lulu could say over and over was, “Oh no, no, no.”
Foster noticed Heather was also crying. He hugged her and his son. Through choked-back tears, she explained what had happened. “Lulu and I were in the kitchen. Thank God we had the baby with us. We were preparing tomorrow’s breakfast when everything began to shake. Things fell off the shelves and the ceiling started coming down. We made it out just in time before the whole place came crashing down and began to burn.”
Lulu stood listening, clutching herself and moaning.
“A few hours ago we had the first guests we’ve had in a long time check in, a young couple from California, along with their five year old son. They went upstairs to get some rest before they began their tour of the island. They never came out.”
They all watched the burning structure as it caved in further. As the flames singed the nearby palms, they knew it was also a funeral pyre. Both women sobbed as the men stood helpless. Oahu and the rest of the Hawaiian Islands were also helpless, caught in the grasp of a power that was no longer a theory.
Here’s where you can buy it.
Thanks.
http://www.melange-books.com/authors/walttrizna/triznanewmoonrising.html
MY POEM PUBLISHED IN ‘STILL CRAZY’
The literary journal, Still Crazy, has published my poem, Sunday Park Bench, in their July 2014 issue.
They describe their publication as, ‘A literary magazine written by and about people over age 50 but designed to appeal to thoughtful people of all ages’.
If you want to give it a try, here’s a link.
REVISITING MY MEMOIR
Around the year 2000, I began writing my first prose in the form of a memoir. Sections of that effort have appeared in this blog and now I thought I’d post a few more. You may have to hunt if you want to read past entries. My blog needs better organization, but I guess I’m limited by the ability of the organizer.
The title of my memoir, if it ever sees the light of day as a published work, will be You Had Hot Water? This title is derived from the fact that the house where I lived until the later part of my undergraduate college education which I pursued far from Newark, New Jersey where the house was located, did not. Come to think of it, our kitchen sink was the only sink I can ever recall seeing which sported just one faucet.
Our family resided in the Ironbound section of Newark, given that name because of all the industry located in the neighborhood. It was also referred to as ‘Down Neck’ by the locals and is still to this day although I don’t know and I’m sure the vast majority of its residents don’t know the origin of that name.
I began writing my memoir after making observations of the world around me as an adult and seeing what people had and the lives they lived and how the conditions and attitudes were so different from those I experienced growing up. People live in conditions far better than I could ever imagine growing up in Newark, yet bemoan a life I would have given anything for while growing up in Newark during the 1950s and 60s. And I bet they all have hot water.
I realize that these are ‘blanket statements’ and there are many living lives in this country which are miserable existences, but there are more safety nets available now than there were back in the 50s and 60s. Back then, it was a time when you appreciated what you had rather than what the other person had. In reality, no one had a great deal, but we lived life as best we could.
With this introduction, I shall begin posting more memoir pieces offering a glimpse of live in Down Neck Newark when I was a boy.
FIRESTORM AT PESHTIGO by DENISE GESS AND WILLIAM LUTZ
I don’t often reread books, yet I hold onto every book I’ve read. I sometimes wander into my study and study the spines of the volumes that make of my many stacks and recall fragments of the stories they contain. One book I decided to revisit is Firestorm at Peshtigo, the true story of an unprecedented tragic event.
Peshtigo, Wisconsin, north of Green Bay, and 262 miles from Chicago experienced the worst fire in American history. The fire burned and grew slowly for some time, but reached its full destructive force on October 8, 1871, the same time that Chicago was experiencing its famous conflagration.
The Chicago fire cost approximately 300 lives. Peshtigo’s death toll, from the town and surrounding countryside, will never fully be known. Estimates reach 2500. The population of Peshtigo was 2000, only 200 survived. Many victims simply disappeared, reduced to a pile of ashes and the ashes dispersed by the wind. People seeking refuge in clearings either suffocated in the oxygen-deprived atmosphere or simply burst into flame from the unbelievable heat.
The cause of the fire was multifaceted. The weather had been extremely dry. Farmers were in the process of clearing land using the most common method at that time, fire. The winds in the area were known to be treacherous. Twenty-four thousand square miles burned.
The book will captivate and hold your interest and cause you to wonder at the pain and suffering of the victims and survivors.
Walttriznastories's Blog 