Michael Lister’s “The Big Goodbye”

Panama City, Florida, 1943: Jimmy Riley is a former cop turned private detective. It’s wartime, lots of federal money is being spent, and corruption abounds. A mayor’s race is looming, and the stakes, if primarily local, are high. The best candidate happens to be married to a beauty named Lauren Lewis, who happens to be Jimmy Riley’s former lover and the woman he’s still besotted with.

Jimmy is called “Soldier,” because everyone assumes his injury happened as a result of wartime fighting. It didn’t; what it had to do with was Lauren. Jimmy’s injury is that he lost his right arm, the one he wrote with; the one he shot guns with.

Welcome to The Big Goodbye, Michael Lister’s first of four Jimmy “Soldier” Riley mystery novels. And welcome to noir detective fiction, a 21^st century interpretation of a genre that reach its peak in the 1930s and 1940s. The novel’s title, in fact, is likely borrowed from two of the best known noir detective novels by Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep and The Long Goodbye.

The first of four novels in the Jimmy “Soldier” Riley series, The Big Goodbye has all the requisite noir features – a tough guy detective, a beautiful if flawed woman, lots of guns, policemen who step on both sides of the law, political corruption, a not-inconsiderable number of dead bodies, twists and turns, and even the most theoretically saintly characters often caught up in crime and violence.

In this story, everything turns on Lauren Lewis – why she’s being blackmailed (she won’t say), who’s pressuring her husband to quit the mayoral race, and what a sanitarium and its doctor are really up. Jimmy loves Lauren too much to let it all go, and he finds himself sinking ever more quickly into the violence and corruption surrounding him.

Michael Lister

Having read a fair number of the novels in the noir detective genre (in addition to Raymond Chandler, there’s Dashiell Hammett, Mickey Spillane, and even the police procedurals of Ed McBain, among many others), I would say The Big Goodbye is a credible and entertaining entry in the genre. Lister uses some profanity, which one won’t find in the novels written back in the 1930s and 1940s, and a couple of explicit scenes that wouldn’t have made it past the publisher’s first readers or review committee those long decades ago. Those elements aside, Lister is faithful to the genre.

Lister followed The Big Goodbye in 2011 with three additional titles in the series: The Big Beyond (2013), The Big Hello (2014), and The Big Bout (2015). He’s also the author of several other novels, detailed at his web site.

If you’re a fan of detective fiction in general and the noir genre in particular, this is a good contemporary series to discover and read.

Photograph: A scene from the movie The Big Combo, a noir detective film released in 1955.

From Antioch to Antioch

After Acts 13

We were in worship, fasting,

together as the followers

of the Wayin Antioch, when

it was said by the Spirit

            Separate the two,

            Barnabas and Saul,

            I have work for them,

            set aside for them

            the work to which

            I have called them

After the words, we continued

to worship, fast, pray.

We placed our hands

upon them, my hand felt

Barnabas sure, my hand felt

Saul, trembling, we placed

our hands upon them, sending

them off to Cyprus, where Saul

was also called Paul, to Antioch

in Pisidia, Antioch to Antioch

and so it begins,

Antioch to Antioch

The lightning of the hands

the power flowing from the hands

the hands a conduit for the source

of a power sufficient

sufficient to change the world

Photograph: Painting of Barnabas and Saul, Stavrovuoni Monastery, Cyprus.

Saturday Good Reads

One thing we’ve learned about Britain – the British love celebrating anniversaries. (For whatever reason or reasons, the U.S. tends to be anti-historical.) Or perhaps they’re just better at marketing. This year is not only the 200^th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo, but also the 600^th anniversary of the Battle of Agincourt. The Spectator published an article on Agincourt – noting that Shakespeare got it mostly right in Henry V.

Good photography and art this week, some good poetry. And a warning from The Jerusalem Post about what may happen as political correctness paralyzes Western governments.

And the ninth Planned Parenthood video was released by the Center for Medical Progress. Planned Parenthood says it doesn’t accept fees or payments for fetal parts procured from abortions. So what do you call “$60 per tissue specimen,” or does it depend upon your definition of the word “payment?”

Culture and History

The West Re-Imagined...Again – Loren Paulsson at World Narratives.

The drama of St. Crispian’s Day – Shakespeare got it right – Allan Massie at The Spectator.

Amazon and the Limits of Consent – Charlie Clark at Fare Foreward.

Our World: Losing the War of Ideas – The Jerusalem Post.

Photography and Art

Holy, the Lesser Saints – Jack Baumgartner at The School for the Transfer of Energy.

American Images: Swamp Shack – F.C. Etier at Venture Galleries.

A last hurrah – Diane Walker at Contemplative Photography.

From the Roster: Yanina Shevchenko – Rebecca Locke at Curator Magazine.

Aerial Maneuvers – Tim Good at Photography by Tiwago.

Poetry

Calvin Miller – D.S. Martin at Kingdom Poets.

The magnitude of an apology – Chris Galford at The Waking Den.

The Secret to a Happy Marriage – Shawn Smucker.

New Haiku – Maureen Doallas at Writing Without Paper.

Andrew Wyeth's "Runaway" - Ann Kroeker.

Music

Death and Desire in the Shadows – Chris Yokel at The Rabbit Room.

Faith

Good Ol’ Words – Winn Collier.

Exchanging Letters 3 – Jerry Barrett at Gerald the Writer.

How One Man’s Recovery from a Tragedy Revitalized a City – Chris Chancey at Faith, Work & Economics.

The Surprising Nature of Grief – Diana Trautwein at Just Wondering.

Writing

The 100 Best Novels Written in English – The Guardian.

5 Writing Tips from C.S. Lewis – Jeremy Myers at Redeeming God.

Meet the Kindlepreneurs – India Sturgis at The Telegraph.

Thick Skin – The Key to a Writer’s Survival – Rachelle Gardner.

The Mysterious Origins of Punctuation - Keith Houston at BBC (Hat tip: J of India).

Planned Parenthood

The Ninth Planned Parenthood Video – Justin Taylor at The Gospel Coalition.

The Power of Pro-Life Women - Katelyn Beatty at Christianity Today.

Crime and Punishment - Sean Curnym at The Cinch Review.

We Few, We Happy Few

Kenneth Branagh, in the movie Henry V, speaking before the Battle of Agincourt.

Painting (top): The Morning of the Battle of Agincourt: The English Army at Prayer, by Sir John Gilbert (1884).

Aili and Andres McConnon’s “Road to Valor”

He was a boy who came from a relatively poor family living in a small town near Florence. He was able to go to a school in Florence, but had to buy a bicycle for transportation. He worked and saved his money, and was finally able to buy a fourth-hand bike.

It changed his life. The boy became Gino Bartali, one of the great cycling legends. In Road to Valor: A True Story of World War II Italy, the Nazis, and the Cyclist Who Inspired a Nation, Aili and Andres McConnon tell Bartali’s story.

Actually, they tell three interlocking stories.

The first is Gino Bartali the great cyclist, who won the Tour de France twice – with each win separated by a decade – a record for time in-between wins that’s still unbroken.

The second is Gino Bartali the Italian resistance messenger, who at the behest of the Archbishop of Florence smuggled fake identity documents all over northern Italy, hidden in his bicycle. What he did saved the lives of hundreds of Jews. He even hid a Jewish family from the Nazis in his basement in Florence.

The third is Gino Bartali, the man whose impossible victory in a Tour de France stage in the Alps helped to stop exploding violence in Italy between the Communist and Christian Democratic parties. As one observer pointed out, men who had been trying to kill each other suddenly turned their attention northward, and celebrated Bartali’s victory together. Bartali had been 21 minutes behind the Tour leader, and in one stage erased the difference. He powered on to win the 1948 Tour, despite all of sports journalists and cycling fans who considered him a “washed-up old man” at 33.

The story of helping the Italian resistance and saving the lives of Jews was learned only fairly recently. Bartali, who died in 2000 at the age of 85, never talked about until late in life, when he told his oldest son some of what happened. Others, especially the Jewish families he helped to save, corroborated his story. His cycling around Tuscany, Umbria and other Italian locales could always be explained as “training.” But secreted in the tubes of his bicycle were false identity papers, to help protect Jews and also to help many escape.

The McConnons tell a riveting, wonderful story. Bartali wasn’t a saint; he had his human frailties like the rest of us. But he had great courage, and he acted on that courage – to save lives, and to win an impossible race. Even if you’re not a cycling fan, Road to Valor is an inspiring, moving account of a terrible time in human history.

Photograph: Gino Bartali cycling in a road race.

5 Strategies for Prolific Reading

In the past week, I’ve read a biography of Gino Bartoli, the Italian cycling champion; two novellas by noir detective writer Dashiell Hammett; three books of poetry; a children’s novel; and a book about a mission project in Uganda.

It was a slow week for reading.

My earliest memory of reading is sitting next to my mother as she read Grimm’s Fairy Tales to me, a child’s reading edition originally published in the 1920s. The story that stood out was “Hansel and Gretel,” with the children getting lost in the woods because the birds ate the bread crumbs they left for a trail. I believe I was three.

I still have the book, an oversized volume with a green cover and considerably “child-worn,” including my Crayola drawings on the inside covers.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Charity Singleton Craig’s place.

Photograph by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

The Hiding Place: The Unexpected Kindness of the Gospel

You’re imprisoned for months. You know your elderly father has died, only 10 days after the family was arrested. Your sister is somewhere in the same prison. A few relatives have been released. Your crime: hiding Jews from the Nazi occupation forces in Holland, and helping them escape.

The time arrives, months after your arrest, for your interrogation.

In The Hiding Place, Corrie ten Boom describes the walk to the Lieutenant’s office. She’s fearful – who wouldn’t be? – and she rehearses various possibilities in her mind. When she arrives, she’s greeted with polite kindness. The lieutenant who is to interrogate her builds a fire and offers tea. She is wary; she knows his kindness may be a strategy to get her to divulge information that would endanger others and seal her own fate.

Unexpectedly, she finds herself sharing the gospel with him. He sends her back to her cell. She’s afraid she had only created more trouble for herself.

When he calls her back, they talk. The Nazi lieutenant says he feels he’s in a prison himself. His family in Germany lives in a  town that has just been bombed, and he doesn’t know if they’re unharmed or not. He is weighed down by the things he has done, the acts he has committed on behalf of the occupation forces.

Corrie tells him that God’s light can shine into the darkest of places. He listens. When he sends her back to her cell, he tells her to walk slowly down one corridor.

She does exactly that. She sees a door has been left open. She knows in her heart what she will see as she passes by – her beloved sister Betsie. Betsie doesn’t see her; she has her back to the cell door. But others in the cell see Corrie. And Corrie can see just enough to see that the cell looks like a home.

For the first time in months, her spirits soar.

Later, when it’s time for the reading of her father’s will, the lieutenant decides to follow Dutch law, and assemble all the family members. Corrie not only gets to see and touch Betsie, but her brother Willem and his wife Nollie as well. She and Betsie are not released, but they do have this precious moment as a family.

This is a blessing, coming from the hands of a Nazi lieutenant who has done evil things for his country and government. Kindness and blessings can sometimes come from the most unexpected of places.

Who would think to share the gospel with an official who is not only going to interrogate you, but holds life and death authority over you? As Corrie describes it, she didn’t plan to do this; it simply happened. And the sharing of the gospel resulted in a small miracle.

All of us have faced times and situations where the sharing of the gospel would make us look foolish at best and potentially cause serious problems at worst. Perhaps we should remember the example of Corrie ten Boom, who blurted out the gospel unexpectedly, and received an unexpected blessing in return.

Led by Jason Stasyszen and Sarah Salter, we’ve been reading The Hiding Place. To see more posts on this chapter, “The Lieutenant,” please visit Jason at Connecting to Impact.

Photograph by Anny Cecilia Walter via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Finding Eliot in St. Louis

I’ve been reading Young Eliot: From St. Louis to the Waste Land by Robert Crawford, a biography of T.S. Eliot’s life from 1888 to 1922. The period encompasses what are perhaps his greatest and best known works – The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock; The Hollow Men; and The Waste Land.  For major works, only Four Quartets lies outside this period.

I knew he was born and raised in St. Louis, where I’ve lived since 1979. But he is something on a non-entity here, this city that continues to celebrate its past (it’s almost a legal requirement to know about the 1904 World’s Fair) while it tries to find new ways to sabotage its future.

Little physical evidence of Eliot remains in the city. There is the house on Westminster Place in the Central West End where his family moved when he was 16. He was only there a year before he headed off to school in the Boston area, first a year at a prep school and then Harvard. And there is a medallion in the sidewalk in front of the place where the house he was born and raised in once stood.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Painting: Tom Eliot at 13, oil on canvas by his sister Charlotte Eliot.