Comic writer and artist Bernie Mireault died this month. He was 63. I was not familiar with him or his work, but my friend and collaborator Nat Gertler, wearing his About Comics publisher’s hat, worked with Mr. Mireault to get his much-lauded comic, The Jam, back into print.
In the remembrances that followed Mireault’s passing, his work was praised and cited as being too little known for how well-regarded it is. He was described as a cartoonist’s cartoonist. About Comics made their reprint available at cost for about a week, so I grabbed a copy to see for myself what everyone was talking about.
The story opens with our would-be hero, a mere mortal, getting the upper hand in a mugging about to go very wrong. That’s something I really loved here — The Jam is about a superhero who is not superhuman. He’s a guy who wants to see some good in the world and has realized he can be part of that good. But, darker forces are gathering. Disillusioned young men are being drawn to a leader with a plan, and soon enough, the Jam has pissed off the Devil himself. So, if you read The Tick and thought, I wish this had a dash of Sandman, well, you’re in the right longbox.
Mireault’s The Jam is great! The writing and art are a lot of fun, and very well done. It’s a grownup comic, but not quite what modern marketing people would call “gritty.” There was also something really charming about the art that reminded me of, well, The Tick or old concert posters of the era. That late-1980s indie comic feel, from the black-and-white explosion. But story also felt rooted in a very real vision of a real city. There’s also a ton of technical know-how and thought going into each panel, each word balloon. I realized I was analyzing the lettering at various points, and thinking about how crazy it is, but still really well done, really fun. Reading The Jam made me think, “Yeah, comics are good.”
But, I should note that comics are rarely kind, or just. If you are having thoughts of suicide, you can reach out for support by texting or calling 988. The helpline is available 24/7 across the US and all of its territories.
Clerk Magda Andreassen is in Kildahl Olsen’s Bok og Papirhandel in Vadsø, Norway. The store’s shelves are filled with books, magazines, and other stationery. The calendar on the wall is the date Friday, September 15, 1922.
In 2000, I got a summer job in Belleview, just south of Omaha, Nebraska. “The big city” for Nebraska kids. With around a half-million residents in the metro area, it surprises people. “It’s like a real city,” my New York City-raised father-in-law said on a visit once many years later. You have to imagine it in his NYC-Italian-Bronx accent, expressing genuine surprise.
Back in 2000, it was my second summer vacation of college. I’d made the mistake of just going home the summer after my freshman year. It was dumb, but maybe I’d been more homesick than I could admit after that first year away. I had no idea what to do with myself besides going home and working again at my old job and hanging out with the few friends still hanging around.
If you’re reading this and you’re young and privileged enough to go away for school … stay away. Go somewhere else, anywhere, and do anything. ANYTHING. Except for work on a commercial fishing boat. I had friends that did that and still don’t talk about what happened that summer twenty years later. A good friend that went to northern Alaska that summer to work in an oil field had a better time. He also went to make “a ton of money,” but it turns out a bag of Doritos cost $20 or something and had to be ordered a week in advance. He came back about as broke as when he went but exhausted from the work and eager for the easy life of a student.
I learned my lesson, and about as far as I could get from Lincoln was Omaha — i.e., not far, but it was something. But living with family friends who fed me frequently, my expenses were virtually nil, which was good because my income was also almost nil. I made enough money for gas, liability insurance on my truck, and a little food. And, of course, old books.
Omaha still had several large used bookshops east of 72nd Street, including a cluster in Old Market. Twenty years later, I don’t remember the names and locations. They were all gone by the time I lived there again around 2015—all gone but one, Jackson Street Booksellers.
Jackson Street was and is an incredible shop. An excellent selection of books then and now. If you’re looking for a used copy of last year’s bestseller, they probably have it. If you’re looking for a first-person account about cooking donuts for troops during the Crimean War, they may have it. When we moved to California, I unloaded several hundred books on Jackson Street. They gave me great prices and were always available to look at another car trunk load of books. They’re also conveniently located in Old Market, where you can grab an ice cream cone or a beer (or both!) nearby if you require refreshment after browsing at Jackson Street.
One of the old bookshops, Pageturners, lives on in name only. The location in Dundee was bought and turned into a bar and now bears the name Pageturners Lounge. A nice bookish mural spans the back of the building, but other than that, it’s not much of a literary hangout. Going there for a beer on a quiet afternoon, a baseball game played on the TV. There wasn’t much else to look at in the big mirror above the bar. Even sitting there, I couldn’t recall much about the bookshop that had been there, though I’m sure I had been there many years earlier.
There was space for readings at the renovated bar and such, but I’d never attended any, though we tried. We were in the last months of pregnancy or had a newborn in our time there, so stopping in for a drink once was about all I could squeeze in. Omaha has a literary scene, though it is very small, and hard to get into if you’re not at one of the Universities. But Omaha does attract the occasional big name author for signings and such, so there’s often something good to look forward to if you’re a booklover.
About the Author: Benjamin L. Clark writes and works as a museum curator.
Growing up in Lincoln, Nebraska, in the 1980s and ’90s, there was a bookshop in the scuzzier part of downtown in an old brick building, under a towering overpass that took you out to the interstate on the east side of town. It was a tiny corner of our modest town that felt like a much bigger city. There were pigeons.
Bluestem Books was an institution by then. There were always cats around, and no one cared if you stayed and browsed or just sat and read for hours on end. Even as a teen doing his best grunge impression day in and out browsing the history, essays, and mystery sections. There was an old green chair in a little nook that was a coveted spot. People would circulate through the store, accidentally sneaking up on one another because there were virtually no open lines of sight because of the tight, full shelves.
The building was also ancient, for Lincoln. The wavy glass in the drafty windows and crumbly brick gave the building a charming derelict feel it may have deserved. Doorways had been knocked through brick walls, giving the shop a rambling layout. The wood floors creaked dreadfully, though muffled under threadbare, faded rugs. Old cast iron pipes passed through here and there, their purposes unclear. Strange metal fittings studded the concrete vault ceilings in places. I wondered if portions of the bookshop had once served as a meat locker or some other weigh-station for once-living things headed out on the nearby rail lines.
It was always warm in there. It probably had more to do with an old boiler heating system, but that was my recollection of it. Going there on an intensely cold day, howling winds that wanted to slam the door on you as you wrenched it open. The door may have been kept attached to the building with a long, old storm door spring to help it eventually snap shut. The spring sang a stretched-out springy twang and thwack back into the door as it closed. There was a faded, soiled note taped to the door with instructions on how to use the door. “Hold on tight on windy days,” or “Don’t let the door slam,” or something like that.
Near that old green chair were a couple of short shelves dedicated to series like Everyman’s Library and The Modern Library — small vintage uniform editions of classics and some contemporary fiction, “contemporary” meaning 1920-1965 or so, arguably the heyday of such series. It was there that I saw the Modern Library series as a series — the recognizable books were a great size and affordable, and they looked cool on the shelf. Looking cool on the shelf is a virtue we don’t admit often enough as book lovers.
I don’t remember if I bought any Modern Library books there that early … I may have. I never had a lot of money, but I sometimes had a job after school, so I had a little spending money in my teens. I don’t remember buying much there in my teenage years, really. But it felt good to be somewhere where I could buy books.
After leaving Lincoln for college, I would try to come back whenever I was back in town. I’d bring friends sometimes but usually come alone. It was the kind of bookshop that in some ways was better to go alone.
Reading one of the John Dunning biblio-mystery novels featuring his rare bookseller/ detective, Cliff Janeway, which takes place mostly around Denver, I sat upright one night where toward the end they mention Bluestem Books in Lincoln by name. My book world had been so insular, so much part of my niner life that it was strange to think this author had been there too and wrote about it, and it came into my hands. I took my battered paperback down to Scott at Bluestem and had him autograph it. He laughed and told me he’d had a few others, but not in a long time.
Around 2000, they added a bookshop dog, who was a delightful addition, and quite a departure from the cats they had. A floofy friendly thing a little less broad than an ottoman and about as tall named Don Diego. I’m not a cat person, but I remember one cat named Thurber who had been awarded employee of the month for several months (and years) running. But then Diego was different. He was eventually awarded the title of Director of Customer Relations, a role to which he was perfectly suited. He was a Havanese, a breed of dog I had to look up later after I’d asked the owners about him. “He’s hypoallergenic!” they claimed. Don Diego’s grand-niece Maribel is now filling in since his retirement.
Don Diego de la Bluestem. And the old address under the overpass.
Even by the mid-1990s, things were changing in downtown Lincoln’s western district, soon to be ubiquitously known as “The Haymarket.” The thrift stores and vacant storefronts that were home to the homeless and pigeons were beginning to change. Fresh brown paper went over the windows, and work trucks began to fill the alleyways. Eventually, it became Lincoln’s hotspot, to the betterment of local tax revenues, no doubt, but losing its seedy charm.
Bluestem had to move too, eventually but managed to find a larger location not too far away, but it’ll always be the old building in the shade of an overpass I used to think was a meat-locker by the railroad tracks on the bad side of downtown that I’ll hold in my heart.
About the Author: Benjamin L. Clark writes and works as a museum curator.
My wife and I love books. Books were a big part of our mutual attraction early in our relationship. In early October 2015, we decided to take a few days off and attend the Iowa City Book Festival. It was cold, but it was a joyous trip — our first as a little family since our son was born a couple months earlier in July. The book festival happened to coincide with a food writers conference my wife wanted to attend there, but there was plenty for me and our infant son to enjoy too with all the book-ish fun. I had the huge thrill of meeting Sara Paretsky, and visiting the Szathmary Culinary collection at Iowa State University. And of course, buying lots of books.
Todd Bol building a Little Free Library in Iowa City, Iowa in October 2015.
But the biggest thrill was meeting Todd Bol and getting to spend a little time with him. Todd was there to help promote Margaret Aldrich’s new title (at the time) The Little Free Library Book and to help build some Little Free Libraries for local organizations. So, there he was on the plaza running through the historic part of Iowa City on a windy, cold day in October, in his sports coat, knocking together Little Free Libraries … by himself. I don’t know if no one else was supposed to be there, or I just happened to come across in-between shifts of helpers, but there he was. So, I helped. I had my baby with me, (his Mom was in a session), and Todd and I built a couple LFLs while my baby boy napped in his stroller, bundled against the chill. Todd had turned up the little collar on his jacket. It couldn’t have helped much. I remember being cold too. I think we were all caught by surprise by the weather.
I don’t remember exactly what we talked about. I had wanted to build a Little Free Library for a while, but being a new Dad, working full-time, and just about any other convenient excuses, I hadn’t gotten it done. He encouraged me as a new Dad. He encouraged me to build the LFL, I remember and we talked design — I was planning to use a discarded kitchen cabinet as the starting point. I remember he was kind and appreciative, even though he had built an untold number of the little book boxes by then.
I bought one of the books and grabbed all the LFL swag I could in good conscience. I really regret, especially now that he’s gone, I didn’t get a picture of he and I together.
I went home that fall and started my own Little Free Library, with the help of my Dad. It was a fun project and we got it installed and the neighborhood loved it. We’ve since moved houses, moved states, but the Little Free Library was still at that old house, serving the community around it. In fact, it was a feature the buyers loved about our house. Take that, curb appeal! A Little Free Library will help sell your house! It also does a lot of good for you and your neighbors.
So, if you happen to have a yellow and purple Little Free Library, Charter #25387: Todd Bol himself and I built that one. According to the Little Free Library Map, that one is located in Pittsburgh at Falconhurst Park!
In this sixth installment of Maggie Sullivan mysteries, Maggie‘s friend Rachel Minsky is accused of killing a man that “had it coming.” Rachel is an independent Jewish woman of means who runs her own construction company in Dayton, Ohio with a private nature. Why has Rachel’s loyal but dangerous right-hand man also disappeared? Why has Rachel kept so many secrets? Can she survive when they unravel around her? Once again, private investigator Maggie Sullivan finds herself surrounded by questions and too few answers.
Historical Fiction for the Historian
I spend a lot of time reading history in my day job so something I look for while reading historical fiction and especially historical mysteries is that the experience is immersive without beating me over the head with historical facts. Ruth Myers does this better and better with each installment. Some writers are justifiably proud of the immense amount of research that goes into writing good historical mysteries, but they are less deft at using that research to create their fictional world. Ruth Myers does this beautifully and that experience is what makes her books among the best of the genre.
Dames Fight Harder takes place in the early spring of 1942, a few months following the attack on Pearl Harbor and the United States official entry into World War II. The war and its global implications weigh on the minds of every character though this is done in such a realistic manner I only noticed my own mounting sense of dread about some characters in this context and only realized when I finished the book why that was. Uncertainties and enormous cultural upheavals are only beginning to be felt, let alone understood. Meyers does a wonderful job making the characters and the mystery at hand the focus. This isn’t a history lesson, but a strong female-driven mystery set in a fascinating time. As a reader, I felt like I was there on those eerily quiet construction sites or with the elderly lady planting beans in what magazines would come to call Victory Gardens.
New to the series?
Although this is book six of an ongoing series, new readers to the Maggie Sullivan series won’t be lost as Myers writes enough background into each to catch up, though I wouldn’t classify them as stand-alone novels as there are long story and character arcs running through the series as a whole.
Fascinated by World War II, the upheavals of the 1930s and 1940s and love a strong female lead story? Read all of Maggie’s stories, but feel free to start here on the newest one.
Author Michael Perry opens by describing laying on a gurney with a kidney stone and it made him think of Montaigne. Having had a kidney stone or two in my day, I can say I didn’t do much thinking, but any and every distraction was welcome. His book in hand I thought, ‘This is someone I can learn from.’ It also had an image of Montaigne wearing an Elmer Fudd hat on the cover — how could I resist?
Michael Perry is a hick. An NPR listening one, but a bonafide bumpkin from rural Wisconsin. And his approach as a writer is a wonderful blend of Dave Berry-esque humor and E. B. White’s reflective essays on life at his farm in Maine.
But don’t be fooled by Perry’s “Aw shucks” demeanor. He dives deep into not only the works of the 16th Century French nobleman-essayist, but also into his translators, devotees, and critics, flipping through each and finding the humor and wisdom for consideration in each encounter. Honestly, I thought Perry’s book would be a collection of Montaigne’s greatest quotes with a few essays built around them, but it’s much more than that.
One thing I learned, Montaigne was 38-years-old when he started writing his essays, finding wisdom with reflection. It happens to be the birthday I’ll have this year and I probably shouldn’t ignore my own copy of Montaigne on the shelf. Over the years, I’ve read from it a couple times, opening it to dip in and out seeing what I can find. Not like a miner desperately swirling his pan for gold. More like the weird uncle pinching choice bits of meat in the kitchen before the roast goes to the table. Did Horace B. Taylor, the previous owner of my copy as a student at the University of Montana sometime in the 1950s ever open it? Judging by the crispness of the pages and the tightness of the binding, I think not.
Perry follows Montaigne into all parts of life, including Friendship, Marriage, Sex, and yes, Farts (officially funny if you were wondering.) Perry is honest, making himself vulnerable exploring all of these subjects and many more. As a reader I found myself nodding in agreement, appreciating his willingness to not hide behind the page as a writer but to lay life out for all of us, that we can connect over our common humanity. Even if it’s over fart stories.
…
RECOMMENDED
Michael Perry quotes Montaigne that the study philosophy is really a preparation for death. Perry comes to the same conclusions, thinking on experiences of his life, love marriage, children, writing, and working on an ambulance crew. After reading and loving “Montaigne in Barn Boots” is not the preparation for death but appreciate our commonalities and a better appreciation of our lives.
(c) Lincoln Journal Star
This review first appeared in print December 12, 2017
Benjamin L. Clark writes historical mysteries and works as a history museum curator.
Discovering what you want out of life, navigating self-doubt, and standing on the threshold of adulthood is tough no matter who you are. Luckily there are friends along the way who can help us. For some, those friends happen to be made out of a splash of ink and a pound of paper. Quiet Girl in a Noisy World: An Introvert’s Story by Debbie Tung is one of those books.
When it arrived, Debbie Tung’s graphic novel looked familiar to me and no doubt why – I had been following her work on Instagram, which can be found @wheresmybubble. Her work has appeared in print and online in several places. I was glad to get my hands on this book.
This autobiographical graphic novel of Tung’s young life and entry into adulthood is told in single-page sets of drawings which makes it easy to dip in and out, or do as did and read it all in one sitting. She makes her way through graduate school, writing her dissertation, reflecting on her childhood and getting into a relationship with an extrovert — all with observational, self-deprecating humor and charm.
Tung’s book had a very similar effect on me as when I read Susan Cain’s Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking a few years ago. It opened my eyes to my own introversion and I found a kinship. I knew I was an introvert long before reading it, but there were parts of my personality that didn’t make sense to me, like my ambition, like my ability to be outgoing in specific situations. Cain’s book explores introversion in a deep dive and gave me a lot of helpful insight. Tung’s book is anecdotal, and more like a quiet cup of tea with a good friend, you can communicate with entirely by passive telepathy.
Tung also opened my eyes to differences in experience. Experiences I imagine that would be more common for young women who are introverts as well, navigating sexist behavior on top of their introversion. I’ve already pressed my copy into the hands of my favorite introvert to see what she thinks.
I’d recommend Quiet Girl in a Noisy World to introverts who are figuring things out and the people that love them.
The Devil’s Feast by M. J. Carter Out of the Frying Pan…
The third installment of Blake & Avery has arrived (with another gorgeous cover!). I really enjoyed The Strangler Vine, the first book of this very early Victorian amateur sleuth series. The Strangler Vine is set in India at the dawn of the Victorian era and is a true adventure wrapped around a mystery. The following book, The Infidel Stain, took our British duo to London a few years later but didn’t quite enthrall me in the same way. For Feast, we remain in London, in the lanes and squares but also into the finest kitchens and private clubs of the age, where gentlemen are being poisoned. French celebrity chef and inventor Alexis Soyer, known perhaps only to food historians today, but quite real, plays a starring role in this newest book.
It comes as no surprise the history and details come across so richly from the pen of author M. J. Carter. Carter has previously written and published non-fiction history as Miranda Carter and her work is well regarded. Her research is thorough and it shows, but I know that’s not every novel reader’s favorite part of a good mystery.
… and into the fire.
I was very glad to see a new installment of the Blake & Avery series and hope for more. The second book didn’t quite capture me the way the first did, but this third book was better than the previous, but still not quite as captivating as Vine. One distinct criticism I have in this adventure is that we see far too little of Jeremiah Blake in this book. He has a couple very brief cameos before finally coming forward for the final third. It was in this final third as a reader I sat up and paid attention.
…
RECOMMEND
If you love food history, the early Victorians, or just a good British mystery, get The Devil’s Feast and the earlier Blake & Avery books. I received an advanced reader copy of this ebook via NetGalley in exchange for my review.
About the Author: Benjamin L. Clark writes historical mysteries and works as a history museum curator.
I haven’t read all the nominated books this year, not even close, and I’ve reviewed even fewer — However, there are two especially I’d like to draw your attention to.
Come Twilight by Tyler Dilts is up for best paperback original (I read it as an ebook without harm). You can read my full review of Come Twilight by Tyler Dilts, the latest installment in his contemporary mystery-thriller series featuring Long Beach, California police detective Danny Beckett. Sorry for the dark cover, but it’s a screenshot on my darkened phone while reading in bed. Yes, it’s that good.
Earlier this year, I also read, loved, and reviewed Jane Steele by Lyndsay Faye. If you haven’t already heard of this book, it’s a wonderful, edgy exploration of Jane Eyer’s story. You won’t be sorry you picked up this one, or frankly any other book by Lyndsay Faye. It also happens to have one of the most beautiful and interesting covers of the year as well.
Congrats to all the wonderful mystery writers on this list, and congratulations to us fans of mystery novels — we’re spoiled for choice!
About the Author: Benjamin L. Clark writes historical mysteries and works as a history museum curator.
I love a good series of mysteries and I fall absolutely in the “Read Series Books In Order” camp. I’ll even research an order to a series if the author says there is no order. When left without an authorial order, or a fan derived one, I default to publishing chronology. Yes, I’m a big ol’ nerd. Then, I at least get a similar experience as original fans of the series.
A great place to figure out series order is on LibraryThing. Just type in the title of the book and under it will appear the name of the series and a number. Click that link and it will take you to a series page (here’s the page for Laurie R. King‘s Mary Russell – Sherlock Holmes Series). I love that the orders for series are largely sorted out, but also include things that maybe you’ve missed — like short story appearances in out of the way anthologies.
Mary Russell – Sherlock Holmes series by Laurie R. King
I hate spoilers and in the past when I’ve jumped to a later book and it’s like: “Why was she here? What business did she have, placing flowers on the grave of my beloved side-kick…” NOOOOOO!!! What happened!?? GAHHH!! SIDEKICK IS DEAD!!?? Yep. They were killed as punishment for my skipping around, that’s why.
That said, I’ve been doing it again, and haven’t been stung too bad so far. Since I’ve started writing myself, I have discovered another layer of enjoyment reading a good story that takes the sting out of my misdeeds. I’m coming to see the mechanics of the story a little more. Sort of like my experience as a museum curator and visiting museums on vacation and admiring mounts, signage, and good interpretive tools.
What about you? Do you skip around within a book series, or are you a ‘no exceptions’ order reader? Leave a comment and let me know, or request to join my new Facebook Group and we can all share!
About the Author: Benjamin L. Clark writes historical mysteries and works as a history museum curator.
Historical Fiction for the Historian
