The Vanishing Art of Browsing

In talking to my mom – a retired elementary school librarian – recently, she mentioned a friend of hers – a non-retired school librarian – who was upset that the school she works for is planning to shrink the library by getting rid of the majority of print books and focusing mainly on digital. 

This is heartbreaking. It’s not just that I’m older and not willing to acknowledge the ebook revolution – in fact, I make a nice chunk of change from ebook sales. The reason I think this is a terrible idea is that it takes away a very fundamental way for us to discover new things. It greatly limits our ability to browse.

Browsing is one of the best ways to discover new things; new authors, new subjects, new artists, new musicians. In the last decade or so, targeted marketing has been on the march to replace browsing. Targeted marketing is the opposite of browsing. Targeted marketing says, ‘Oh, so you like horror. Well here are some horror novels similar to the ones you already read, so you’ll probably like these, too.’ Old-fashioned browsing says, ‘Hey there – here’s the horror section, but when you’re done looking here, keep sauntering through the aisles and you might find something you didn’t know about, and who knows? You just might find another passion or three.’ Browsing in real, physical space gives you a 360-degree view of what else is out there, while cyber-browsing gives you tunnel vision.

Our computers, smart phones, tablets, can track our internet traffic and use that to determine our interests. That’s all fine and good and makes a lot of sense from a commercial point of view. I’ve got nothing against it...as long as there is still a way for us to discover things we didn’t know we’d like. Sure, you can discover things on the internet. You can spend time going down the Wiki-hole, where one search leads to another search, leads to another search, leads to another until the next thing you know there’s a crust of drool on your chin and your kids are nourishing themselves by chewing on the leather of your boots. But still...

Real browsing involves all of your senses. It’s active. It’s tactile.

Internet browsing is mostly passive. You move your fingers a little, and stuff appears in the narrow field of vision that is your screen.

Libraries – real libraries – need to be filled with real books. They need to be there in the stacks so that we can walk slowly through the aisles, running our fingers along the spines, gazing at the possibilities, all the endless possibilities of adventure, love, intrigue, laughter... Sometimes our bodies, our souls, yearn to be surrounded by books, yearn to breathe in the knowledge, the wisdom oozing from the between shelf upon shelf of colorful, enticing covers. We need a place where everywhere we turn there are books, books, books!

There can never be an app for that.

So please libraries...yes, add digital, but don’t use it to replace the physical. Because if someday all the power shuts down and the last bit of juice is drained from the last Nook and Kindle, there will still be the fortresses of libraries to protect us from ignorance and boredom.

Why the Fascination with the Apocalypse?

There is a lot of fiction out there about the apocalypse, a lot of movies, television series, and evangelical screeds. How many times have we seen the image of the slightly off-kilter guy wearing a sandwich board that says ‘The End is Nigh!’? The idea of an apocalypse has been around for a long, long time, and it continues to fascinate us. Why? You’d think after all these years we would be sick and tired of all these apocalyptic stories and dire warnings of oncoming dooms-days. But we’re not. Well, I’m not, anyway.

While I think religions spreading fear of an apocalypse in order to get people to pray harder and/or send in more money to be properly raptured are basically slimy snake-oil salesmen, the idea of an apocalypse provides limitless possibilities in the realm of story (in whatever media it might be contained). Most apocalypse stories at their core are survival stories. How do we survive when the infrastructure of civilization has been fucked? Do we revert to barbarism or do we try to rebuild civilization as we once knew it? Do we try to stick to our morals in a world where morality has gone out the window? Is it every human for him/herself? How do we sustain our basic goodness? Is our basic goodness even relevant any more?

I recently read a couple classic apocalyptic novels, both which I highly recommend. First was George Stewart’s Earth Abides, which is about the rebuilding of society after an apocalypse. Next was A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter Miller, Jr. which is about (among other things) the cyclical nature of civilization. Both novels, while using an apocalyptical even as a starting point, are vastly different from each other, but both equally brilliant in my opinion.

As a writer, apocalyptic fiction is a vast sandbox to play in. There are so many ways to examine an apocalypse and its aftermath. You can write about the apocalypse itself. Asteroids! Disease! Zombies! You can write about the survivors, like in The Walking Dead or Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. You can write about the rebuilding of society, or its breakdown. You can show an apocalypse in a comedic light, ala Shaun of the Dead.  You can tackle it philosophically, romantically, horrifically, poetically, or all of the above. You can write about it as a story of good vs. evil, ala Stephen King’s The Stand. One of my kids just brought home a picture book called All My Friends are Dead. So there are even apocalyptic children’s books! Endless possibilities...

Why do you like apocalyptic fiction? What are some of your favorites?

It’s fun and satisfying to think What would I do? in the event of an apocalypse. We imagine ourselves the heroic survivor who rebuilds society, who brings the human race back from the brink of extinction. But in the event of an actual apocalypse, odds are that we would become the zombies, the ones flash-fried by nukes, the ones whom the disease rots from the inside out.

In the end, it’s inevitable that we all experience our own apocalypse. Maybe it’s not due to a zombie invasion, or fiery hunks of burning asteroid hurled down upon us from above. Maybe it’s a car accident, or cancer, or we've simply gotten so old that our body decides to give up the ghost. Truth be told, the end is always nigh. Maybe that’s why we enjoy apocalyptic fiction. We can experience it beforehand in the safe environment of our homes or at the theater. Maybe it’s a way of imagining our end as thrilling and heroic and exciting, before the actual apocalypse of our lives, which may turn out to be a bit more mundane. Perhaps the best apocalyptic fiction reminds us that we’re still alive, and so let’s try to enjoy what we have here and now as best we can.

Bedtime Stories for the Apocalypse

More Bedtime Stories for the Apocalypse

"The Next Big Thing" blog hop!

I was invited to do this "blog hop" called “The Next Big Thing” where authors tag each other to answer questions about upcoming projects. Many wonderful authors have been tagged, and I was included by Sheri White from her blog Chaos & Contentment.

What is the working title of your book or story?

A short story - White Crosses.

Where did the idea come from for the book or story?

There’s a fifty-mile stretch of highway in the Gallatin Mountains between Bozeman and West Yellowstone, Montana – US 191 – and I’ve always been struck by the number of white crosses along this particular stretch. The crosses, of course, represent traffic fatalities, and these were put up by the local American Legion (if I remember correctly.) Once, while driving that road, I tried to count them, and I lost track after getting up to fifty-five.

What genre does your book fall under?

Crime/mystery

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Hmmm...I have no idea. Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau? No, wait...that’s been done before. And they’re unfortunately no longer with us. Forget I said that. Next question!

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book or story?

A retired couple on an RV trip in Montana stumble across what may (or may not) be a kidnapping in process.

Will your book or story be self-published or represented by an agency?

I’ll submit it to a few paying markets and see what happens. If I exhaust those possibilities, I may publish it as a stand-alone short story ebook.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I wrote it in starts and stops – had a few false starts and completely started over a number of times. So I couldn’t really tell you. Many hours, though.

What other books or stories would you compare this story to within your genre?

Oh, geez – I don’t know. War & Peace? But without any of the war, and very little of the peace, and not nearly as long, and not really anything like that at all. (I just can’t think of anything.)

Who or What inspired you to write this book or story?

See above (“Where did the idea come from...”) Although the white crosses referred to in the title don’t have much to do about the crime that’s being investigated, it does have to do with the characters’ motivations throughout the story.

What else about your book or story might pique the reader’s interest?

I’m using the two main characters (Mr. Varney and Mr. Johnson) from my short story Leave No Wake, which originally appeared in the Resort to Murder anthology published by Nodin Press. I received a lot of good feedback from that story, and thought this would be a good way to bring those characters back to life for another run.

The Hidden Secrets of Old Bindings

I've discovered an odd thing about old books. For example, here's the binding of an old bible we have that dates to sometime in the 1800s. We bought it because it looks cool and has amazing engravings inside (in other words, we're not really all that religious.)

Anyhow, it's old and is falling apart. One day, the spine's binding began to come apart, and inside was this:

It's an advertisement for another edition of a bible, or something related to it. So it appears that even back in the 1800s, they were recycling!

Here's another book we have, this one a very beaten up copy of Minnesota in the Civil and Indian Wars, 1861-1865, published in 1891:

 

 

Hey, what's that bit of color peaking out from the torn binding of the spine?

 

It's this:

 



 

I can't really tell what it is, other than perhaps an old advertisement. For oranges? Peaches? I don't know, but it's been hidden in the binding for about a hundred and twenty years. I think that's pretty cool.

Now if only I could find an early draft of the Declaration of Independence hidden away in one of these old bindings...

Grandpa Walt - Air Raid Warden

My Grandpa Walter J. Arnold was an air raid warden in East Los Angeles during WWII. He passed away in 1976 when I was only eight, so I didn't know him very well, other than that he had a hearty laugh and was really tall (6'4"). He also liked his fried chicken from a place called Chickenowski's, which was across the Mississippi somewhere in Wisconsin. (He lived in Wabasha, MN, when I knew him.) He was a nice man, and when we visited, he always gave me a quarter to run down to the Ben Franklins for candy.

He worked in the milling industry most of his life - at places like Big Joe Flour in Wabasha, and Mother Hubbard in Mankato. He worked at a mill in L.A. too, but my folks can't remember which company it was. I remember he had an inhaler he'd use every so often, and I wonder if it was from all the flour dust he must've inhaled over the years. He'd also been a two-pack-a-day smoker from an early age (elementary school) until his early 50s, when he quit cold turkey. I'm sure the inhaler could've come from that, as well.

Walter ran away from home at the age of fourteen, and had no love for his father. Apparently his dad would take all the money Walt earned on a paper route and not let him have any of it. But so, he ran away from home, and drove a taxi in Faribault at the age of sixteen. At some point, he met the love of his life, Laura, and they eloped. They adopted my dad when he was 19-months old from the Owatonna orphanage.

Anyway, a number of years ago, I found a leather folder of Walt's at my parents' house that contained a bunch of his air raid warden materials. It's pretty cool to read through; from information about victory gardens, to different types of incendiaries and how to treat wounds from various chemical weapons, etc. Also info on the proper air raid warden attire and what his duties were. There were also some ration coupon books of my dads', who was between 4 and 7 when they lived in California.

Here's a picture of Walt (in his early 40's here) and my dad looking mighty dapper in East L.A.

Here's one of my dad's war ration books. I love all the info on it - his age, their address at the time...I wonder if that same house still exists.

Here's what Walt would've handed out to civilians in his assigned area, which typically consisted of a few square blocks. My dad says a nickname for the air raid wardens was 'blockhead':

Here's a sheet that lists some of the air raid warden's duties:

In case there had been an actual raid, or incident, here's the form he would've filled out:

Also included in Grandpa Walt's air raid warden folder were news bulletins from the East Los Angeles War Council like the one below. They really bring the humanity into the picture. They talk about upcoming dances, and folks who are moving away or coming back from the war, etc. They are typically positive and upbeat, with a bit of humor thrown in here and there.

There are a lot of other items in his air raid warden folder - too many to include in this post. But looking through them certainly inspires the writer in me to use them to concoct a story at some point that takes place during that time, with an air raid warden as the main character. Perhaps a mystery, since it was the warden's job to know everyone in his neighborhood, and to walk his beat, making sure everyone was in compliance with the black-out rules. Surely he'd come across something out of place...

Contemplating Ghosts

I had the seeds of a ghost story germinating in my head, so I started thinking about what makes a ghost a ghost – or more simply – Just what is a ghost, anyway? For the purposes of this entry, you can substitute ghosts with spirits, if you’d like.

Personally, I've never seen or experienced a ghost (that I’m aware of). I’m a skeptic, and many of the things that people think are evidence of ghosts don’t pass the smell test for me. Photographs of ‘orbs’? C’mon – we all know those are just exploding fairies.

But having said that, I’m open to the possibility that they exist. I’d like them to exist. It’s nice to think that after we die, we may have some purpose left to fulfill. Or at least we get to wander around spying on naked people. Either way. I know some folks who are adamant that they have experienced ghosts, and I seen no reason that they’d just make that stuff up.

As a horror writer, ghosts are certainly a fun thing to write about. So here are some questions I asked myself concerning ghosts:

What do ghosts do when there is no one around to experience them? For example, if a ghost is haunting a location, are they conscious of it? Do they think? Do they tell themselves, “Well, here comes some folks to haunt the shit out of.” Or are they just the psychic residue of past (or even present) lives?

Do ghosts have a mission, or are they like a record skipping under a broken needle?

Can ghosts hear? See? Experience any sensations, even though they don’t have actual sense organs?

Why would ghosts have clothes on? Are they the clothes they died in? The clothes they were buried in? Can they change clothing? Or would they be naked? Does a ghost represent the person they once were at their peak? Or, again, do they represent the person closer to the time of death?

What if ghosts inhabit your brain – not actually seen, but hallucinated? What if they’re actually some sort of virus?

Do sound waves, light waves, cell phone signals, wireless signals, etc, have any effect on ghosts? What if all these different human-made/used frequencies are killing ghosts off? Or hurting them? Trapping them?

Why do ghost hunters always hunt in the dark? Do ghosts disappear during the day? I personally think those ghost hunter shows are a bunch of crap, and they do their shows in the dark since that’s when your imagination can best fill in the blanks. But again, that doesn’t mean I’m not open to the possibility of ghosts.

Are ghosts doomed to repeat the same thing over and over? Is it a form of torture? A form of hell? Or do they get to wander the earth, watching over loved ones, still experiencing life, though unable to actively participate in it?

Has anyone ever caught a ghost taking a crap or jerking off? Now that would be something to see one of those ‘ghost hunters’ react to. When they listen to their hissing tape recordings, instead of “Get out” they hear, “Don’t you know how to fucking knock?”

So anyhoo. Or should I say, anyhooooooooooooooooo.....

St. Louis Arch, Part 2

 

To see Part 1, go here.

 

Here's where we're going in the next series of photos:

 

 

The St. Louis Arch

The kids looking a little nervous.

So, the picture above is what we rode up to the top in. The photo doesn't really do it justice, because inside, it's bright white and seems very space-pod-like. It fits five people, but luckily, only the four of us were in this one. There's a series of of these pods linked together - I think either six or eight, but I can't remember for sure. They form sort of a train that travels along the inside of the arch - there's one that goes up each side. As you're traveling up or down, you can see out the little windows into the inside of the arch. Lots of steps.

So when your pod stops, you get out and go up a few more steps, and enter the observation area. It's about the length of a bus or two. Here's Paige looking out one of the observation windows, and Melissa looking at me:

Some of the views:

St. Louis

The Mississippi

Looking almost straight down

So there ya have it. Here's the official St. Louis Arch website.

Click here for Part 1 of this entry.