Blind fury by Lynda LaPlante

I am a huge fan of Linda LaPlante, even though some of her work does not always reach the levels of her best work. Who's among us does? Once, after she’d directed a successful TV series, I saw some interviews with the actor stars. They said she did enormous amounts of research and followed real case developments closely in writing her own screenplays. Frankly, it shows. One of the best things about her dramas, whether for the reading, listening, or watching audience, is the authenticity of the voices. You know, (though you also fear, since she writes crime dramas) that these are the people one really has to work with: policemen and –women that struggle to grasp worlds outside of their own limited experience and education, brutal and unsympathetic sociopaths, fearful citizens that dread contact with police at the same time they rely on them for their safety. Put this together with the kismet of progress on a case—a fleeting thought, a chance encounter, a slip of the tongue that leads one to think in a new direction—and you have the beauty and skill of La Plante. She promises you nothing more than a reflection of our lives.

I listened to the audio of this title, read capably by Kim Hicks for AudioGo, copyright 2011. We are treated, not to a mystery that twists and turns in unexpected ways, nor presents a new suspect every chapter, but one which proceeds as one imagines a real case would proceed—building one piece of evidence upon another until the result is inescapable. Because we are so conditioned to reading mysteries with new suspects cropping up often, I posit we readers create our own doubts, and imagine more than is given us, developing the mystery into something more than is written. Blind Fury almost feels interactive, the way La Plante has written it.

This story begins with every police detective’s worst nightmare: with an unidentified body in a vacant lot. It ends with a conviction, and several people dead or destroyed. Our lead characters change and grow and learn right before our eyes, and ultimately we turn from the story with knowledge that weights us. Kudos to both La Plante and Hicks, both masters of voice.


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How to Train a Wild Elephant by Jan Chozen Bays

Those of you who follow my blog will have noticed I have not written in some time. This blog is about books, and even the most exciting fiction couldn’t compete with events in my own life these past few months. “Scattered” would be a kind way of describing my state of mind as I struggled to focus on tasks in front of me. I found myself murmuring “mindfulness” in an effort to keep my attention focused on things that perhaps matter more to others than to myself.

Jan Chozen Bays has written a book that brings us back to ourselves and calmly, gently, laughingly teaches us to focus on immediate tasks…not to get them over with but to be guided by the process. This is book meant to be read slowly, which is a good thing, for it took me a year. Each chapter is meant to be read one week at a time, giving us time to perform the daily exercise for a week. It gives us time to savor the moments of everyday life, not rush through them as though there were somewhere to be other than where we are.

Everyone can do these exercises. They do not require special equipment or set-aside time. They do require some flexibility, and the author encourages us to do them with a group that may meet at the end of a week and discuss the results. This seems a fine way to grow in closeness, since, as the author points out, intimacy is what we humans crave more than any other thing.

Whether or not one completes the exercises for a week at a time, just reading about them brings a sense of peace, lengthens the spine, deepens the breath. One wants to be in that place of mindfulness. And it is a book one can pull out again and again to remind oneself what it is to be “in the moment,” to focus, to notice. The group of exercises themselves will undoubtedly bring a sense of control, and of peace, to those that practice.





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The Practice of Contemplative Photography by Andy Karr and Michael Wood

One doesn't have to have a special camera, nor be a professional photographer. One does have to see. The idea proposed here is that we look and not excite ourselves with the notion of capture, but be still enough to recognize what is ready to be captured. Laid out in a series of exercises, this book leads one through ways of seeing. An exercise is suggested, then the authors or their students present their photos as examples of the exercise completed. The author stresses that these photos not be modified or arranged or designed--that their freshness is dependent upon lack of contrivance.

A calm descends midway through the book, when we realize that there are an infinite number of perceptions to be captured. One just has to be still enough to see. The authors kindly guide us through the means by which we can make our equipment match our perception by our understanding the technical requirements of our camera. Most importantly we recognize that we all can see, if only we would.