Ladies is Pimps Too!

Has it all just been wasted time? Nah, I don't think so, but I was reflecting recently that I hadn't heard the song Wasted Time, one of the best by the Eagles, in quite a while.

Meanwhile, my Saturday quest began from the realization of something else I hadn't partaken in quite a while, a burger from Smash Burger. My last year in Colorado involved working a schedule that left me eating dinner very late most nights, usually after 9:30pm. There weren't too many places still open at that hour, at least in my part of Denver, so I found myself eating entirely too many burgers and fries. The best burgers were at the new, Colorado-based chain Smash Burger. They are all-over along the Front Range, and are expanding rapidly around the country. There's only one in New Jersey, with another due to open soon. That first one is not too far from where I live, but still too out of the way for me to have gone there before today.

I had seen its location on the map, and knew it was close to a good used bookstore, the Montclair Book Center. When I did a Google map check, I realized the two places were actually within a mile or so of each other, and so I decided to scratch two itches on one trip. I hoped I might find some old Harold Lamb biographies, or other pulpy treasure.

I found the Smash Burger easily, and my lunch was a wonderful flashback to the burgers I had enjoyed back in Colorado. I've been preaching the Smash Burger gospel to my new coworkers, who are mostly Five Guys disciples. One of them tried it so far, and he loved it, so there's hope I can convert the others.

The Montclair Book Center didn't have any Lamb that I needed. However, I found more than enough good reading material. I bought a used mass market paperback of The Bonehunters, Book 6 of The Malazan Book of the Fallen, continuing my streak of finding quality pre-owned versions of Erikson's books. In trade format, also used, I acquired R. Scott Baker's The Darkness That Comes Before. This is the first volume of his Prince of Nothing series, a set of books that is often recommended to Erikson and Glen Cook fans. I've never read any of it, but I'm aware of it, and seized this opportunity to have it at hand for eventual consumption. I also picked up a recent used Doonesbury collection that I didn't own yet.

The real gem for me was the fourth book I found. I was looking in the humor section, and had just added the Doonesbury to my stack. I noticed Wasted Time playing from a nearby speaker, and stopped to listen to that sad tale of too much hard living. That's when I realized that one of my long quests had ended. Facing me on the shelf was Anka Radakovich's Sexplorations.

I doubt many people remember Radakovich these days. Her heyday was 1996, when the sex columnist for Details Magazine was a regular guest of late-night TV hosts such as Conan O'Brien. Her book The Wild Girls Club, a collection of her magazine articles, was a best-seller in hardcover. I bought the paperback and found it wildly amusing. I loved her bawdy adventures among the allegedly-hip and cool crowd on both coasts. They pushed the same buttons for me as Berlin's music, with it's lurid, tawdry depictions of the nightlife of the coked-up, over-sexed party set in LA. I generally like my music and my reading to be full of epic, manly adventure, but I'm occasionally a sucker for a woman embracing her inner sex-kitten.

Sexplorations was released in hardcover in 1997. I planned to wait for the paperback, but the book apparently tanked, and never came out in a cheaper edition! I'm not sure what went wrong, and why Radakovich dropped off societal radar. I did a web search on her, and she's still writing articles here and there. Be that as it may, I've kept an eye out for many years for a used hardcover copy, but it took me 13 years to bump into one! I read a good chunk of it at various stops this afternoon, and was again amused and entertained (it's not a long book). I'm not sure the wait was entirely worth it, but it put a smile on my face none-the-less.

Minor Glen Cook Update: Later in the day I had a look at a Barnes & Noble, and saw that Angry Lead Skies, Book 10 in the Garrett, P.I. series, has been reprinted. This is good news for those who still need the book, and weren't looking forward to paying the $17 or more (plus shipping) that the book commanded on ebay. I don't understand Penguin/Roc's plans for this series, since several of the recent reprints are again out of print (Old Tin Sorrows, Dread Brass Shadows, and Whispering Nickel Idols), and two of the back titles haven't been reprinted at all (Red Iron Nights and Deadly Quicksilver Lies, which often sell for over $20 each on ebay). The next Garrett volume, Gilded Latten Bones, is still scheduled for release in November of this year. Perhaps some of the out of print volumes will be re-released to coincide with this.

More Malazan Musings

I keep plugging along at Steven Erikson's Malazan Book of the Fallen series, of which nine volumes are currently available. Somewhere back on this blog I discussed Gardens of the Moon, the first book. I may have mentioned reading the second volume, Deadhouse Gates, on my visit to New York City last October. I had plenty of time to read, while riding the coach 75 minutes each way, to and from my friend's house in western New Jersey. Fortunately, Deadhouse Gates was engrossing. I liked it quite a bit more than I did the debut.

Why? Because the characters and locales were more to my taste. The series is built in layers. The first book takes place on the continent of Genabackis. The second introduces many new characters, mixes in a few returnees, and sends them all to the Seven Cities sub-continent. The third then returns to Genabackis, before the fourth picks up the Seven Cities storyline, with the events being concurrent. The fifth introduces the continent of Lether, and again mostly new characters. The remaining books then blend the various storylines.

Why did Erikson do things in this back-and-forth manner? I saw in an interview that much of his in-progress manuscript for Memories of Ice (which became the third volume) was lost due to computer trouble. This depressed Erikson to the point that he felt the need to step away from the Genabackis setting for a while, and start to tell the Seven Cities portion of his overall arc. This made Deadhouse Gates the second book, when it was originally intended to be the third one. If that had happened, then Gardens of the Moon and Memories of Ice would have been one and two, telling a complete portion of the arc. House of Chains would be book four in either case, and would have continued directly from book 3, instead of from book two, as it now does.

I almost wish the books had been written and published in the originally intended order. Upon finishing Deadhouse Gates, I was eager to see what happened next in the Seven Cities storyline. I didn't really want to return to Genabackis, but I did. I read Memories of Ice bit by bit, over the winter. It is certainly a good book, but I don't share the often-expressed view that it is the best Malazan tale. It is too melodramatic for my taste, and too contrived in places, especially in Whiskeyjack repeatedly refusing to allow magical healing of his injured leg. Deadhouse Gates seems better written, which makes sense in that it is, to an extent, Erikson's third Malazan book. Meanwhile, I know from personal experience that recreated lost writing is never as strong as the original. A bit of magic disappears forever, and that magic was missing from Memories of Ice, even if Erikson had grown in experience since his first attempt at writing the book.

I'm now reading House of Chains, and it is enthralling. I'm near the halfway point, and so far it is the best of the Malazan books. For me. Opinions on its merit seem to vary widely on review and discussion sites. I like that the groundwork has been laid in earlier volumes, so that now the bigger picture is emerging. Erikson is taking fewer heavy-handed shortcuts to play with readers' emotions. I hope the understated quality continues.

It'll be a while yet before I get to book five, Midnight Tides, but I'm looking forward to it. A segment of Malazan fandom considers it Erikson's finest moment. My taste might well match theirs, since it doesn't for those who champion Memories of Ice. Of course, there's no true right or wrong in the arena of opinion. Ultimately, the lack of consensus on which Malazan book is best is really a praise to the strength of the series. I expect Erikson's works, and those of his colleague Ian "Cam" Esslemont, will continue to entertain me for many months to come.

The Butler Did It

Terry "Geezer" Butler, bassist for Black Sabbath and Heaven & Hell has posted a wonderful tribute to Ronnie James Dio, on his site.

You can read it all via the link, but here's a few lines that stood out:

"Most people who were there for those last days chose to keep their thoughts private. I wanted to keep my thoughts private, too, but I’ve been overwhelmed by emails, and requests from the media and fans for comments.

I can truly say I’ve never known anyone to have such loyal, loving friends, fans, and family as Ronnie. He really was a special person, blessed with a unique voice and presence. He loved his fans- he would stay meeting and talking to them until the early hours of the morning. One of my fondest memories of him comes from last year, at the Sonisphere Festival,Knebworth. He noticed my sister and her husband at the side of the stage. During our opening song, he took the time to go over and hug them. Just a little thing like that made him special to me. Of course his music will live on forever, as will his influence. I have never seen so many tributes from so many musicians and fans, so many good wishes, no cynicism, just pure love and appreciation for a great man.

God bless you Ronald – thank you so much for the wonderful memories."

RIP RJD

Ronnie James Dio died this morning, at the age of 67. He had been battling stomach cancer for perhaps 6 months, and had recently canceled touring plans for this summer. I knew that couldn't be a good sign, so his passing was not unexpected. I'm sad right now, but not really for Ronnie himself. Like Jaws a year ago, he had lived a good long life. He was a professional musician for 50 years, doing what he loved. Such longevity is a sign of blessing. He was always the first to state in interviews how fortunate he'd been in life.

It is a little surprising to realize that I saw Dio live, fronting Heaven & Hell (Black Sabbath), as recently as August 15 of last year. It was my fourth time seeing him, and my second Heaven & Hell show, after twice seeing his solo band. Ronnie sounded great, and seemed poised to continue on forever. It turned out to be around that time that he started feeling the stomach pangs which lead to his eventual diagnosis.

Tribulations are pouring in from around the world, the best I've read so far comes from Lars Ullrich:

"Dear Ronnie,

I just got off stage in Zagreb. I was met with the news that you've passed on. I'm kind of in shock, but I wanted you to know that you were one of the main reasons I made it onto that stage to begin with. When I first saw you in Elf, opening for Deep Purple in 1975, I was completely blown away by the power in your voice, your presence on stage, your confidence, and the ease with which you seemed to connect to 6,000 Danish people and one starry-eyed 11 year old, most of whom were not familiar with Elf's music. The following year, I was so psyched when I heard the results of you joining forces with my favourite guitar player. You guys sounded so right for each other and I instantly became Rainbow's #1 fan in Denmark. In the fall of 1976, when you played your first show in Copenhagen, I was literally in the front row and the couple of times we made eye contact you made me feel like the most important person in the world. The news that you guys were staying in town on your day off somehow embedded itself in my brain and I made the pilgrimage to the Plaza Hotel to see if I could somehow grab a picture, an autograph, a moment, anything. A few hours later you came out and were so kind and caring... pictures, autographs and a couple minutes of casual banter. I was on top of the world, inspired and ready for anything. Rainbow came to Copenhagen a couple more times over the next few years and each time you guys blew my mind, and for a good three years were my absolute favourite band on this planet. Over the years I've been fortunate enough to run into you a half dozen times or so and each time you were as kind, caring and gracious as you were in 1976 outside the hotel. When we finally got a chance to play together in Austria in 2007, even though I may not have let on, I was literally transformed back to that little snot nosed kid who you met and inspired 31 years earlier and it was such a fucking honor and a dream come true to share a stage with you and the rest of the legends in Heaven & Hell. A couple of weeks ago when I heard that you were not going to be able to make it to the Sonisphere shows that we would be sharing this June, I wanted to call you and let you know that I was thinking of you and wish you well, but I kind of pussied out, thinking the last thing you needed in your recovery was feeling obligated to take a phone call from a Danish drummer/fan boy. I wish I'd made that call. We will miss you immensely on the dates, and we will be thinking of you with great admiration and affection during that run. It seemed so right to have you out on tour with the so-called Big Four since you obviously were one of the main reasons that the four bands even exist. Your ears will definitely be burning during those two weeks because all of us will be talking, reminiscing and sharing stories about how knowing you has made our lives that much better.

Ronnie, your voice impacted and empowered me, your music inspired and influenced me, and your kindness touched and moved me. Thank you.

Much love,

Lars."

I couldn't put it any better myself. I'll close with some of Ronnie's lyrics, from the Black Sabbath song Over & Over:

Too many flames, with too much to burn
And life's only made of paper
Oh, how I need to be free of this pain
But it goes over, and over, and over, and over again

The More Things Change....

I was born in Albany, New York, and raised in Guilderland, between Albany and Schenectady. My maternal grandparents lived to the north, first in Fort Edward and then just south of Lake George. Many battles or skirmishes took place in the 17th and 18th Centuries close to roads I frequently traveled. So it is natural that since childhood I've had an interest in the French and Indian Wars and the War of the American Revolution. My recent return to the Northeast has rekindled my desire to read about this era. It helps that bookstores here in New Jersey have "local interest" titles that simply aren't available in Colorado (and of course, many Colorado titles aren't stocked here). I found one such title, Bloody Mohawk - The French and Indian War & American Revolution on New York's Frontier, at a nearby chain bookstore, and couldn't pass it up.

I was first captivated by the magnificent Don Troiani cover art, which is from his painting The Oneidas at the Battle of Oriskany. I had been thinking about Oriskany, and its reputation as one of the most horrific engagements of its era. I wanted to learn more about this battle, which I first read of as a child in Paul I. Wellman's Indian Wars & Warriors East (Paul was the brother of imaginative fiction author Manly Wade Wellman, who is better-known today). Allan W. Eckert's The Wilderness War furthered my interest. Many fictional battles are based on ones from real-world history, and I thought Oriskany might be a good source of inspiration for a story I may someday spin. Bloody Mohawk includes a chapter on the fighting there, and that was enough for me to purchase the book on the spot.

Bloody Mohawk isn't an exhaustive study of the Mohawk River Valley between 1754 and 1783. Author Richard Berleth didn't consult archival sources for his research. Instead, he synthesized the best secondary works, and applied his excellent writing to create a solid introductory work on the subject. He pays more attention to the later years of the era, showing how the conflict became a civil war that left the countryside devastated, and largely depopulated. The Iroquois were split, as the Oneidas and some elements of the other tribes sided with the American Patriots. Much of the White population became Loyalists Tories, forced to abandon their homes, only to return as brutal raiders.

It was an age of cruelty, something not widely recognized or understood today. Berleth doesn't touch on earlier precedents, but by the 1750s Robert Rogers was leading his Rangers on horrible raids against Indian and French settlements, in retaliation for bloody French and Indian raids on British settlements. Both sides regularly killed and scalped as many enemies as they could get their hands on, both because of blood lust, and in order to collect the scalp bounties paid by French and British colonial officials. Twenty years later, Bloody Mohawk explains that the Tory Butler's Rangers were frequently hard to distinguish from their Iroquois allies, as together they attacked every settlement west of Schnectady. American forces burned down numerous Iroquois towns in return, with only occasional pitched battles such as Oriskany and Newtown.

This makes for compelling, if depressing, reading. For me, it was a good reminder that "total war" was not invented during World War 2. The partisan war behind German lines in the occupied USSR had similar cruelties and divided loyalties, and, of course, was on a much larger scale. I am apparently not the only person to share an interest in both the New York frontier fighting and World War 2, as I've seen the listing for Michael O. Logusz's new book, With Musket and Tomahawk - The Saratoga Campaign and the Wilderness War of 1777. Logusz is also the author of Galicia Division - the Waffen-SS 14th Grenadier Division 1943-1945, a decent study of the Ukrainians in the Waffen-SS. I've owned the latter for many years, and now look forward to acquiring his book about the decisive year 1777 in New York.