Having written a book myself, during which time my editor slashed over 10,000 words and red-lined my prose left and right, I thought there could never be an editor who would let slide any grammar that was less than perfect — especially when the book is printed by a major publishing house.

I was wrong.

Right now, Mavis and I are reading the Anita Blake series by Laurell K. Hamilton (come on, a girl’s got to have some reading material that does not involve research methodologies). I love all things vampiric; always have, ever since picking up Interview With the Vampire after seeing the movie back in the 90s. Her stories are great, and there’s always an unexpected deus ex machina moment, designed to assure the reader that the stories will continue. Total fun.

Anyway, while reading the first book, Guilty Pleasures, I noticed a couple of errors. You know, minor things, like transposed letters or a missing word in a sentence. I thought, that’s all right, just a typo. No problem.

However, with each successive book in the series, the mistakes began to pile up. Things like “I was loosing the battle,” and “He was smarter then that,” started to irritate me — a lot.

Hamilton’s rampant use of alright is bothersome, too, although the word has been so overused that it’s now a basically accepted part of the American lexicon. Still, why wasn’t it caught and corrected? It makes the word nerd in me absolutely howl.

Then there’s this, over and over and over:

“‘Oh, really?’ She made it a question.”

“‘You knew about this?’ I made it a question.”

“‘Are you in love with him?’ He made it a question.”

What does that mean? Of COURSE it’s a question. So, you’re asking a question, then telling the reader that you phrased the question as a question…STOP IT. I am going mental.

While I love the story lines, and Hamilton’s style is hip and smart-aleck, I can’t get past the myriad mistakes in usage and spelling, and her bewildering phraseology (not to mention an annoying penchant for committing paragraph after paragraph to describing what a character is wearing). Does that make me a bad person? I make this a question.

I went to LKH’s MySpace page the other day, and read that she doesn’t maintain it herself. But the site assures that she does read it. It also unfortunately says that Laurell “definately is enjoying MySpace.” Arg. More points off. Her own website — laurellkhamilton.org — is equally amateurish. **FAIL.**

Who knows…maybe Penguin Books thinks people who buy mass-market paperbacks won’t know the diff. But if I were a #1 New York Times Bestseller List author, I’d for dang sure make certain that everything going out to the public under my name was at least grammatically correct.

Hey Laurell — fire your editor and HIRE THE FINK!

…for the “King of the High Cs.”

Last night I was recording some Romantic era stuff for my music history class, and ran across “Nessun dorma” from Puccini’s opera, Turandot.

Pavarotti. Like Elvis, Madonna and Prince, he’s known worldwide by simply one name. I know there are opera singers out there who think it’s passé to like Pavarotti, but I don’t care. OK, so maybe he was a total brat sometimes, but he was also funny and silly, and I never saw an interview where he didn’t win over the journalist, the crew, and anyone else watching.

I read the tell-all book by his former manager, Herb Breslin. The King and I was a bit harsh on Big Luciano, but I’m sure it had at least some truth to it. I mean, you can’t be that adored the world over and not be a spoiled-rotten baby some of the time. [I think I still have the book if you want to borrow it...or maybe I gave it to Kay to read on the plane. Can't remember.]

But back to The Voice.

He was one of the few singers who would barely move his face and still reduce you to tears. Quite possibly the most beautiful operatic aria I have ever heard has got to be his rendition of “Nessun dorma.”

If you’d like to see it, here it is. If you’re not an opera fan, it’s ok. You don’t need to be. The only thing you need to enjoy this video is a soul.

The story of the aria is this: The prince has solved all three riddles in order to win the hand of the princess in marriage. She fears the prince — he’s sort of a cad. He tells her that if she can guess his real name by tomorrow morning, he’ll go away and call off the marriage. But he knows that his identity is secret, and that nobody, even if they stay up all night, will guess it. Therefore, he sings “Nessun dorma” (None shall sleep).

He ends the aria with the powerful declaration, “Vincero!” (”I will win!”). I heard he had the same attitude when pancreatic cancer was tearing his insides apart. He lived a full life — the cancer finally won in 2007 when he was 71 — but still, he was taken away too soon.

Quite possibly the most amazing thing about this performance is that he was 62 years old when he did it. Incredible.

Give yourself three and a half minutes of beauty today. Watch and weep.

I’ve read so many books over the years, there’s no way I could remember them all.

But certain titles stand out over nigh these many decades. The following list is by no means complete - for instance, all the fabulous juvenile fiction I like to read (Artemis Fowl, the Pendragon series, etc.) is not included - but it’s a good representation. Bet you’ve read some of these, too.

Top Ten Books, According to Me

10. The Odyssey - Homer. Yes, Virginia, you can enjoy a book that was written in 800 BC. Here is an entertaining version in which all 24 chapters are reduced to one paragraph each. Funny.

9. The Cry and the Covenant - Morton Thompson. A novel based on the true story of Ignaz Semmelweis, a Hungarian doctor who was ridiculed and shunned by his colleagues for claiming that women and their babies were dying of fever after childbirth because doctors didn’t wash their hands. After handling infectious sores and wounds of other patients and the innards of rotting cadavers, European physicians would simply wipe their hands on their lab coats, then go to the maternity ward to do pelvic examinations on laboring moms. It’s a truly sad story of a dedicated doctor whose unrewarded work in the area of germ theory later made Joseph Lister a very rich man.

8. The Man in the Iron Mask - Alexandre Dumas. Fascinating and horrifying tale of revenge and love by the author of The Three Musketeers. Empathy queen that I am, I had a horrible time wrapping my brain around the idea of being ruthlessly framed, having a cast iron mask bolted to my face, and dragged to a secluded prison to rot, while my twin took my place in real life. Icky. A cruel, uncomfortable premise, but the ending is brilliant and worth the suffering.

7. The Vampire Lestat - Anne Rice. One of the best books of the “Tales of the Vampires” series, the first of which was Interview With the Vampire (made into a movie starring Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt back in the 90s). I like her writing style; her descriptions about old New Orleans make you feel you know the place. And I do so love the vampire experience…

6. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee - Dee Brown.

5. The Stand - Stephen King. I own every one of his books, and this is one of the best. “Randall Flagg” makes a huge appearance in this one, as he does to a lesser degree in many other King books. [Hmmm...Randall Flagg, Rat Fink. Coincidence?]

4. Dracula - Bram Stoker. I think I’ve read it four times since the seventies. It’s the vampire thing again.

3. Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis. Awesome series of beautifully written fantasy that every man, woman and kid should read. Incomparable.

2. Harry Potter series - J. K. Rowling. Loved them all. Still can’t convince Kay to read them, though. Stick-in-the-mud, she is.

1. The Dark Tower series - Stephen King. Best read ever, hands down. Someday soon, I’ll start at the beginning again.

If you haven’t read any of these, get thee to the library or local Barnes and Noble. Or borrow from me.

It’s Wednesday - 2 more days until the weekend! (What am I so chirpy about? I have homework all weekend. Sheesh.)

Frieden und Liebe,

Book Fink

[I don't mean the RtB blog, which I hope you read every day anyway.]

Every American needs to read the book I read last summer, after I’d forgotten about it for almost 30 years. Click the picture to get a better look so you can identify it at the library or the bookstore. You could also borrow my tattered copy.

Why do I say read this ? Because if you think that America has always had her arms, lands and ports open to the tired, poor and huddled masses yearning to breathe free — you need only look as far as the United States government’s shameful behavior from 1840-1890 to be slapped back to reality.

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee is based on first-person and government sources, interviews and actual letters written by Native Americans and US military and government personnel. Author Dee Brown unearthed documents that were hidden away - and likely forgotten - for a hundred years. What resulted in 1970 was an account of the real experiences of “Indians” in America (by the way, they were the true Americans - not the white people who came from Europe). It is a profoundly heartbreaking account of lies, intolerance, cruelty, ignorance and ultimate betrayal.

Here is an exercise in empathy.

Imagine being offered a beautiful gift by someone you trust; someone who you believe has your best interests at heart and who cares about the welfare of your family. As you reach out to accept this lovely gift, your friend slaps your face as hard as he can.

A little while goes by, and your friend returns, bearing another gift. You are a bit wary…you still remember the sting and humiliation you suffered last time. But your friend is sincere; he wants you to know that he is being truthful and all is well. He looks at you with eyes full of respect and friendship. Your heart melts and you are won over. With a smile on your face, your faith restored, you gratefully reach for the gift, only to be slapped across your face once again — except harder this time.

And that is what happened to Native Americans at the hands of their “friends,” the United States government. Over and over and over. Gifts of treaties, treaties and more treaties — as if the land was the white man’s to give in the first place. Treaties and promises, all broken. All lies. All in the name of greed, but covertly painted the pretty colors of Christianity and Manifest Destiny.

Feh.

You might wonder why the Indians kept believing the promises of the “Great Father” (whatever American president was sitting at the time). Were they just gullible? Stupid? Both?

Not by a long shot. They simply believed that people were inherently good and respectful of those who had lived on the land for generations beyond memory. Unfortunately, they sorely misjudged the American military.

Navajo, Sioux, Cheyenne, Ute, Peyote, Apache. All viewed as “savages” because they dressed differently, worshiped differently, and lived by different laws. Armed with a pathetic mission based on selfish lust for more and more land, the US government set about driving these people from their ancestral homes, and eventually onto reservations, where they lived a humiliating and suffocating existence. And the story only worsens from there.

Bury My Heart is not beach reading, for sure. It takes a considerable amount of fortitude to read chapter after chapter of accounts of inhumane (and indeed, inhuman) treatment of people whose repeated arguments that “we can all live together in peace, and share the land” went unheeded, and were repaid with such cruelty that some tribes were obliterated completely from existence.

The Native Americans had finally had enough, and started to fight back — and sometimes, to fight first. Humans can only be pushed so far.

Read this incredible book to see just how far they were pushed. It will amaze you, anger you, and break your heart.

Side note: I want to rent the movie that HBO made of the book. It won the Emmy for “Best Movie Made for Television” in 2007. If you’ve seen it, let me know what you thought of it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Photo credit: Treaty signing by William T. Sherman and the Sioux at Fort Laramie, Wyoming.
Photographed by Alexander Gardner, 1868. The National Archives: www.archives.gov

So, say you write a book - your autobiography, detailing your triumph over gang membership, physical abuse, drugs, and basically a future with no hope. Then the book hits the New York Times Bestseller List. Your literary agent secures a national tour. Sales go through the roof. You’re on your way to achieving what many people (including Yours Truly) only dream about: being viewed as a truly fine writer.

Then the wheels fall off when your sister tells your publisher that your entire story was a hoax. Made up. Fabricated. You were not a half-Native American, half-Caucasian waif, unmercifully abused and forced to sell drugs at 10 years old. Rather, you were an upper-middle-class princess, raised by her parents in Sherman Oaks.

Then there’s James Frey, whose A Million Little Pieces, an autobiographical tale of escaping a vicious world of crime and drugs, became so popular that Oprah Winfrey recommended it to all her viewers - only to find out later that, yep, you guessed it: it was all a big fat lie.

What causes people to do this? I mean…do they not think for a minute that folks might check their stories? Do they think they won’t be found out when they include their mugshot photos in the book, complete with police department booking numbers?

That’s what Frey did - and some cop saw it. And checked. Then the house of cards came tumbling down.

And worst - WORST - of all: There’s a 71-year-old lady in Massachusetts named Misha who told a huge lie about living with wolves as a 5-year-old Holocaust survivor on the run. And what did she do when Jane Daniel, her publisher, got suspicious and tried to back out after the book went to press and sold a million copies?

The old gal sued Daniel for $23 million……and won.

And the drama ain’t over yet. Daniel is now challenging the court’s ruling, claiming that the lawsuit was bogus because everything the publishing company did was predicated on Misha’s story being true.

So, what’s the lesson in this? I have to quote my mother here. “If you always tell the truth, you’ll never have to keep track of what you say, and you’ll never have to apologize for lying.”

Yeah - especially to the national media.