HOPE IN A NUTSHELL by Keith Cymry - review

Wit and wisdom explode from a precarious piñata of life/ death, ying/yang, good/evil, and despair/hope in Keith Cymry's novel HOPE IN A NUTSHELL. Hope, as the author neatly states, "is the golden thread from which the world swings like a pendulum hanging from the Kingdom of Heaven." The nutshell in the title? That is another matter altogether and as difficult to explain as the concept of hope.

Cymry has as much quirky "stuff" crammed between the covers of his book as Tom Robbins and John Irving do in "Jitterbug Perfume," and "World According to Garp," combined. Case in point? How about a mystical 2000-year-old walnut coated with Arizona gold, which serves as the tale's touchstone of hope as well as its center of conflict? Add the fact that the stolen medallion comes from the City of Forever, (somewhere out there), which allows the author to expertly knit together the natural and the supernatural.

With a crazy cast of mismatched characters, from the hippie hero, Uriah Freestone, who travels blue highways of Arizona and "the badlands of gnawed skulls and scattered bones known as New Mexico," to a supernatural raven named Rocker, to an occasional Ethiopian as well as an ancient Navajo pal named Laughing Puma, the action is non-stop. And an added plus is a gem of a character, the ever-slimy Sheriff Joe Garbonzo. Garbonzo is a sweet morsel of satire offered up to Cymry's fellow Arizonians who have their own Sheriff Joe Arpaio, the troll of Maricopa County, as a dangerous irritant.

As the humans who are able to save the world, Freestone and his beloved Mary Beth, nimbly straddle the universe of us and the universe of them, the gods (little "g"). (Both worlds are peopled by the sane and the insane.) In constant conflict with both the natural and unnatural worlds, Uriah and Mary Beth are tasked with ciphering clues found on the aforementioned ancient medallion encased in a golden walnut. Mary Beth has knowledge of nuts and bolts science/math while Uriah has mastery of the ancient Celtic language and all matters mystical. Their combined skills represent a symbolic blend of science and humanity. Can they solve the puzzle in the nutshell in order to save the world or might the world drift into nothingness on the proverbial Mayan doomsday of December 21, 2012? As with Arthurian legend (immeasurably updated and brushing on Pythonesque) getting to the end goal is the fun that makes the journey worth while for hero and reader alike. Parts of the journey are quirky and absurd, parts are dramatic and tense and parts are poignant and sniffley.

In recap, to reach the end game of the story, the author weaves a tender love-story into a fantasy landscape while telling a taught suspense thriller at the same time. And he does it with language that flows in many, many instances with the best contemporary word-smithing this reviewer has come across in many a magical moon. To include all the remarkably turned phrases would cheat the author of one of the prime reasons to read his novel, but as enticement, a few one-liners are shared here:

"Tequila will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no Tequila."

"Are they trick questions? Do they move when someone tries to answer them?"

"Those eyes could launch a thousand ships," he thought. "Or at least a thousand of his own tiny mariners upon some great odyssey."

"In Las Cruces are still to be found those cheap sort of motels that once dotted the main thoroughfare of every small town in America. Nowadays the few that remain cluster in cities like rotting hope."

Continuing to speak of seedy motels, Cymry refers to them tautly as "dilapidated remnants of America's greatest generation." So much for misguided jingoism.

"Free beer was always the best beer, provided it wasn't 'Milwaukee's Best.'"

And finally, to sum up some of the insanity our hero faces, the "narrator seeks to put an eye-of-newt up the arrogant nostril of a chained consumer society whose course will ultimately lead humanity to near certain bloody, chaotic rebellion, mass starvation, and the annihilation of civilization." Clearly the stakes are high.

This novel is a quick read and, because it functions on so many levels, the experience of reading it will delight any thinking person.

Don Juan DeMarco (and Johnny Depp) get better and better…

(Film review)
  
Most of us know that with a movie featuring Johnny Depp, one viewing is not enough. First time, let's admit, we just watch Mr. Depp. His presence in a scene draws the eye like none other - not only the face and voice, but the subtly of gesture make it imperative to keep an eye on him at all times. Such is the joy of Don Juan DeMarco. Depp is captivating in the title role, charming from first viewing and the film continues to improve through multiple viewing.

In Don Juan Demarco, the tone is light, absurd and fun, with the exception of two pivotal scenes where the essence of the visionary Don Juan (Depp) breaks apart to reveal the anguish of youth confronting life's pain, the anguish of loss.

Still those critical deep moments never weigh down the optimistic intent of the film. As psychiatrist Marlon Brando breathes in the ephemeral aura of his patient, Don Juan, he breathes new life into his own aging heart. Although, the theme is an old warhorse, its presentation in this film is fresh and articulate.

One feels that the Brando character, along with his lovely wife played by Faye Dunaway, who both come to care deeply for Don Juan, have embarked on a well-deserved journey of a life time as they enter the world of Don Juan - a world seen rarely and only through the eyes of true love.

Crushing good looks aside, as an actor, Depp is one of a kind. Nothing like Brando physically, but every bit his peer in the ability to cross that celluloid barrier and become real inside the head and heart of the viewer. It's a gift to be reminded of the magic of love through excellent dialogue and who better to deliver the message than Mr. Depp. Men, heads up, you should watch this film, too.

SB: 1 or God Karl Maddox; But Why's the Rum Gone? Johnny Depp

"But Why's the Rum Gone?" (Captain Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean)

When an actor can deliver a line like "But Why's the Rum Gone?" with the same depth and angst as the philosophical line: "But why are we here (on this planet, in this solar system, etc.)," he probably "gets it." as much as anyone can. So it was with interest that I read the Johnny Depp review on Amazon of the THE GOD CODE: The Secret of Our Past, the Promise of Our Future by Gregg Braden. I had some interest in the book, but after reading Depp's review, I figured I would skip THE GOD CODE. Instead I ordered SB: 1 OR GOD by Karl Maddox which Depp recommended in his review.

So, I'll let you know.

I have a lopsided stack of books sitting on my coffee table - lopsided as in ready to topple over, but also lopsided in content. Have you ever read MIDDLEMARCH? I'm tired of hearing how great this classic is; it's on the list. So are FOLLOW THE RIVER, DEVIL IN THE WHITE CITY, JONATHAN STRANGE AND MR. NORRELL, a Clancy book, a Critchon novel and MY FATHER'S DRAGON which was a childhood favorite I ordered it for my grandson but can't wait to read the stories (3) again myself. The author is Ruth Stiles Gannett - it's got that BABAR look to the artwork, so I'll bet (and hope) it's French in origin.

The French. Seems they "get it" as well.

The Passionate Papers of Fiona Pilgrim

Reviewer: NANCI MILAM (Indianapolis, IN)
Nanci@aireborn.com
wc - 209

"Guffman" and "Spinal Tap" for Writers

If you laughed at the "Remains of the Day" lunch boxes and "Dinner with Andre" action figures in "Waiting for Guffman", and if you fed off the original plot twists in "World According to Garp" - in short if you want a great laugh delivered via terrific writing, this is a book to add to your library.

In the beginning we meet Joe Leonard, frustrated legit writer,desperate for income, who adopts a pseudonym (Fiona Pilgrim), with the intention of hacking out romance novels. Been there (with above plot) and done that, you might think, but you haven't been where this author takes you.

After setting the premise, author Rubadeau reveals his tale through a series of letters from his protaganist, Joe to an academic mentor at Harvard, from Joe (as Fiona) to June Featherstone (Britain's top romance author), and from June to Fiona. As three romance stories develop, those real more implausible than those fictional, we learn the do's and don'ts of authoring romance (i.e., romance readers aren't generally fluent in foreign languages, but we can skip translating "cul-de-sac"), along with more details about Romania than we ever hoped (or wanted) to know.

In one sentence, I recommend "The Passionate Papers of Fiona Pilgrim" because it's wellcrafted
and fun!

-30-

Reviewer: NANCI MILAM
Book THE RULE OF FOUR
(Indianapolis, IN)
wc - 460

CONSPIRACY OF DUNCES

The novel, THE RULE OF FOUR, is a phenomenon, not because it's a terrific effort from first time authors (it isn't), but because so many readers have been led into buying it. Most professional writers, having made similar first-time mistakes as Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason, will recognize the lack of conviction by the authors as they fail to commit to any single element of their work.

While there is some character development as we go along, the principle players remain fuzzy in the mind's eye. What attempts are made to tap into the angst of the protagonist, Tom, fall short with writing that has the depth of understanding of an Ivy League silverspooner attempting to give gravitas to soul-searching while checking his Rolex. The pivotal soul search here is whether to continue on with history making research that will rock the art world (and reap a windfall of personal riches), or go to the equivalent of the Princeton Prom. Gosh, tough choice for a brilliant mind.

Our hero, Tom, is tepidly torn between love for sophomore Katie and obsession with the mystery locked within the pages of the Renaissance work, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili. According to the logic of The Rule of Four, Einstein and his family would have been the better off if he hadn't been obsessed with quantum mechanics. As either hero or antihero Tom appears too weak in character to be of much interest to the reader. His true love, Katie, is superficial in the demand that Tom choose between research on the book (and best friend's life) or cozy dates with his honey. In the world of serious academics, in this case, at Princeton, it's hard to imagine students, male or female, putting much weight on a formal dance as being more than an if-time-allows
diversion from the rigors of studying.

The Frankenstein Fitzgerald character of Gil is more caricature than character; Paul, however, is
drawn with merit and one wouldn't object to meeting him in a sequel. While hoping to capture the brilliant intellect of the players in this all too familiar drama, we are left wondering why, as brainy people, four roommates fall victim to so many ill-planned courses of action. The story line of intrigue has some fine moments, but few surprises and the ending could have been scripted by a third-grader.

Surely Princeton is not filled with many vacuous students as portrayed here, but one thinks, perhaps, our authors belong to a secret society similar to Skull and Bones at Yale. That this novel is all the rage and selling like hotcakes can only be attributed to a conspiracy of rich and
powerful good ol' boys, not in politics, but in the publishing business.

-30-

Reviewer: NANCI MILAM
Nanci@aireborn.com
Book: A Painted House/Grisham
wc - 260

Hurray! "A Painted House" is a reader's book.

"A Painted House," paints, indeed, stroke by careul stroke, a living
portrait of the early fifties as seen through the eyes of a seven-year old child.
Although the story is set in rural Arkansas, it speaks wonderfully of daily family life in
1952 America. The setting is a farm, the family work is cotton, the time of year is late
summer/early autumn, baseball is on the radio, soldiers are dying in Korea and sevenyear
old Luke is learning about life the way we all learned about life back then--by active
experience.

Throughout the span of the novel, Luke's family home is painted for the first time, board
by board, as spare hours and funds allow. As the old home grows up, metaphorically, so,
in reality, does Luke who learns the lessons we all learned early on - that where there is
love, there is often hate, where there is tenderness, there is also violence, where there is
hope there is also fear, where there is wanting, there is also giving, where there is life
there is, certainly, death.

Grisham's writing is exceptional as he recalls the interior life of a seven year old. If you
remember being seven, you'll value this book and be enriched by the read.

-30-

JITTERBUG PERFUME

JITTERBUG PERFUME is a great read, a work that fell instantly into my mental category for "real literature." Robbins is a writer to take seriously and as I search further, I find out just how seriously he is taken.

A most resourceful sight for those wishing to study Robbins, or any other author, in depth is www.rain.org, a site with the heading National Public Internet. I ran off seven (7) pages of reference material - a complete bibliography to include review links to all Robbins' novels, short stories, translations, and articles as well as personal interviews, dissertations and graduate theses.

If you haven't read any work by Tom Robbins and you are a lit lover, you must read something by this author. As for JITTERBUG PERFUME, it will take you on a fantastic saga spanning 1000 years. The verbal painting is vivid and lasting and the quirky journey will remain with you forever.
Enjoy! You will have fun and stand wiser at the end. Remember to smell the jasmine along the way.

Oak Tree vrs. Shrub. The 9/30/04 presidential debate

Did you ever watch a bully boy strut his bluff stuff around a 7th grade playground as he pretended to manhood? With a few intimidating cliches up his sleeve, a dismissive air and a pocketful of perceived previous victories, he would troll among the weak to gather a following of lap dogs who yearned desperately for a pat on the head by the BMOP (Big Man On Playground). Last night, during the September 30th presidential debate, we again met the all too familiar boy with the bluff; this time, fortunately, he came up against one of those guys who's not afraid to point out that the emperor is swaggering around naked.

Young George stood podium to podium with a real man, a man with the right stuff. Hard to imagine how the contrast of immature youth vrs. mature adult could have been more starkly drawn.

To my mind, Bush is a kid playing with a loaded gun. Let's hand that weapon to a man who would wield it responsibly. I expect when he was in his 20's, John Kerry was more mature in thought and character than George Bush ever, ever could be. As the Bush supporters scurry to find some more phony clothes for their defrocked leader, the health of our country is at stake.

Oak tree. Shrub. You choose.

Election 2004, another hurricane?
As we hit the home stretch of the presidential election, 2004, it occurs to me that none of us has a clue what's going to happen in the next six weeks. The society we live in has become so liquid that its bordering on unstable; one news cycle is all it would take to cause the river of these United States to burst its dam and run amok into unchartered territory. Get on your floaties and prepare for a bumpy ride! If you read my rant about the cable news media, you know that I view our current woes as a systemic illness affecting all our check and balance go-to institutions. Unlike the citizens of Florida, we don't have the option of escaping to higher ground. This election of 2004 promises to be one heck of a storm. Let's hope we're all still standing when it's over.
And I always thought of myself as an optimistic person! 4 more years of Bush makes me weak in the knees, and not in a good way.

What's wrong with you cable news people?

I am amazed that a cable news show asking for one hour of my time, would devote 1 minute to the most recently beheaded person in Iraq, 1 minute to the unfortunate 1000+ who drowned in Haiti during Hurricane Jeanne, 1 minute to Scott Peterson and 50 minutes to CBS and Dan Rather. What's wrong with you cable news people? How can you be getting your importance in the world so wrong? Whether Rather stays or goes, whether CBS is guilty or not, whether CBS stays or goes or whether the whole news media as it is will stay or go, just isn't that big of a deal. Whether our country stays or goes, now that's a big deal, and if you news guys don't stop making everything about yourselves, you won't have any one to impress because your audience will be politically, if not literally, dead.

How astounding that you are unable to see the daily harm you do to this conceptually beautiful country. Until you can admit to yourselves, looking in the glass face-to-face, that you, each of you, is complicit in this war in Iraq and complicit in the deaths of all who have died there, you will not mature into professional newsmen.

Were you not, as the collective media, especially the cable media, wetting your pants over Gulf War II when you realized you, too, could make your names at the Baghdad hotel, or as an embed or as the nightly news reader who cranks out the middle of the night reports of missiles (hopefully, you think) sailing into Kuwait and maybe, with any luck, into Israel. Nothing could top those glory days when the Scud Stud stepped up to the plate and CNN cameras captured modern warfare's razzle-dazzle first hand, LIVE! No matter that it was David vrs Goliath. Imagine, we managed to win!! Ghouls.

Was it in the hopes of capturing those spontaneous news events from Gulf War I that you all so easily went along with, indeed, salivated over, this contrived, staged, totally bogus war in Iraq?

If there's one thing the CBS fiasco should teach the media, it's that we average pajama joes out here are paying attention. Those of us who were looking for ways to avoid war in Iraq found plenty of support months in advance of the invasion just looking closely at statements issued in newspapers, on CSPAN, in opposing view segments. That those tidbits of truth - no WMD, Saddam having no real army, defense contract giveaways and, most importantly no link to Bin Laden - were pushed aside and ignored in favor of the self interest of the news media and it's personal bent toward self-glorification has brought not only shame, but real, tangible harm to this country. Remember, a gilded lilly usually ends up dead and alas, me thinks your blooms are looking a bit withered as we speak.

Get off your high-horses and slog your way down the road to real journalistic truth - and that means ALL of you, not just Dan Rather.

What's wrong with you cable news people?

I am amazed that a cable news show asking for one hour of my time, would devote 1 minute to the most recently beheaded person in Iraq, 1 minute to the unfortunate 1000+ who drowned in Haiti during Hurricane Jeanne, 1 minute to Scott Peterson and 50 minutes to CBS and Dan Rather. What's wrong with you cable news people? How can you be getting your importance in the world so wrong? Whether Rather stays or goes, whether CBS is guilty or not, whether CBS stays or goes or whether the whole news media as it is will stay or go, just isn't that big of a deal. Whether our country stays or goes, now that's a big deal, and if you news guys don't stop making everything about yourselves, you won't have any one to impress because your audience will be politically, if not literally, dead.

How astounding that you are unable to see the daily harm you do to this conceptually beautiful country. Until you can admit to yourselves, looking in the glass face-to-face, that you, each of you, is complicit in this war in Iraq and complicit in the deaths of all who have died there, you will not mature into professional newsmen.

Were you not, as the collective media, especially the cable media, wetting your pants over Gulf War II when you realized you, too, could make your names at the Baghdad hotel, or as an embed or as the nightly news reader who cranks out the middle of the night reports of missiles (hopefully, you think) sailing into Kuwait and maybe, with any luck, into Israel. Nothing could top those glory days when the Scud Stud stepped up to the plate and CNN cameras captured modern warfare's razzle-dazzle first hand, LIVE! No matter that it was David vrs Goliath. Imagine, we managed to win!! Ghouls.

Was it in the hopes of capturing those spontaneous news events from Gulf War I that you all so easily went along with, indeed, salivated over, this contrived, staged, totally bogus war in Iraq?

If there's one thing the CBS fiasco should teach the media, it's that we average pajama joes out here are paying attention. Those of us who were looking for ways to avoid war in Iraq found plenty of support months in advance of the invasion just looking closely at statements issued in newspapers, on CSPAN, in opposing view segments. That those tidbits of truth - no WMD, Saddam having no real army, defense contract giveaways and, most importantly no link to Bin Laden - were pushed aside and ignored in favor of the self interest of the news media and it's personal bent toward self-glorification has brought not only shame, but real, tangible harm to this country. Remember, a gilded lilly usually ends up dead and alas, me thinks your blooms are looking a bit withered as we speak.

Get off your high-horses and slog your way down the road to real journalistic truth - and that means ALL of you, not just Dan Rather.