Night Train to Munich

Carol Reed and David Lean were contemporaries, and hit their stride in the immediate postwar years, when British cinema came roaring back from austerity.  Lean was the more celebrated, later, with Lawrence and Zhivago, but for a time, they were neck and neck.  Lean came out with Brief Encounter in 1945, Great Expectations in 1946, and Oliver Twist in 1948.  Reed released Odd Man Out in ‘47, The Fallen Idol in ‘48, and The Third Man in ‘49.  Reed had directed a dozen pictures before the war, while Lean was still making his bones as an editor.  Reed shot Night Train to Munich in 1939, and it was released in 1940. 

They were uncertain times in Britain, as elsewhere.  The movie covers six months, from March to September, 1939, from the German military occupation of Czechoslovakia, to the Polish invasion and the UK declaring war.  The tensions of the picture hinge on that time-frame. 

Night Train has an unconventional structure.  There’s essentially a prologue, the attempted escape from Prague, the break-out from the prison camp, the brush contact with British naval intelligence.  Rex Harrison doesn’t show up until twenty minutes into the movie.  And the clock runs out on the first act with Paul Henreid standing on the conning tower of the sub.  The second act picks up with Harrison doubling back on the Germans, lasts another twenty minutes, and the third begins with Charters and Caldicott reading Mein Kampf and runs to the end of the picture, a breathtaking forty-five minutes.  You don’t notice, because the hour-and-a-half runtime is so tight. 

The screenplay was by Sidney Gilliat and Frank Launder, who wrote The Lady Vanishes, among many others - more on this, below.  According to Gilliat, the source material, a Gordon Wellesley short story, accounted for the first ten minutes of the script, and he and Launder winged the rest.  The inconsistencies and plot holes are paved over with snappy dialogue and terrific pacing.  They never give you pause to reflect. 

Margaret Lockwood made The Lady Vanishes for Hitchcock in 1938, and The Stars Look Down for Carol Reed in 1940, both co-starring Michael Redgrave.  But when Redgrave wasn’t available for Night Train to Munich, they decided on Rex Harrison.  Harrison wasn’t box office; Lockwood was a much bigger name.  But it’s a career-making performance.  Lockwood later told an interviewer, Rex loved getting up in that Nazi military drag, the shiny cavalry boots and the monocle, coming to attention, clicking his heels – and you can see it, his relish in shifting gears, from the clownish and languid Dickie Randall/Gus Bennett to the punctilious and condescending Major Ulrich Herzog, of the Army Corps of Engineers.  He’s barely restrained from licking his lips. 

Paul Henreid is Harrison’s foil, as the SS officer, first an infiltrator in the prison camp, then undercover in Britain, and lastly back in uniform, in Germany.  It was a big part for Henreid (then credited as Paul von Hernried, his billing before he fled Nazi-annexed Austria), although he’d had a substantial supporting role in Goodbye, Mr. Chips the year before.  You might even wonder if Henreid is lined up to be the hero, after he springs Lockwood from a detention camp and smuggles her into England, but not after the spectacular switcheroo in the optometrist’s office.  Henreid’s character is possessive of Lockwood, and he’s a play of light and shadow, his conflicted feelings a flicker behind his eyes.  It gives him greater depth, almost as showy a part as Harrison’s.  His personal suspicions make him second-guess his professional ones.  The final shot of Henreid, left behind to bind his wounds as the cable car reaches safety, is ambiguous, and you’re almost sympathetic with his loss.  He might have given it all up for love. 

And then, Margaret Lockwood.  She was a pretty big draw, beginning in the late 1930’s, but her movie career tanked in the mid-1950’s, which makes no more sense to me than why some people won’t eat potatoes.  Those enormous, luminous eyes, just to begin with.  She got a name playing bad girls in period pictures, some of them re-shot for the American market because too much cleavage showed in Regency costume.  She was twenty-two when she made The Lady Vanishes, and there was talk of teaming her with Michael Redgrave in imitation of William Powell and Myrna Loy in the Thin Man series.  She has an immediacy that seems unrehearsed, and a liveliness, an appetite.  It feels completely genuine. 

Night Train to Munich is sometimes said to be a sequel to The Lady Vanishes, or a variation, but they bear only a slight family resemblance.  The same scriptwriters, a train trip, and, of course, Charters and Caldicott.  The element of madness, the gaslighting, is missing entirely.  And once past the intro, the crowded mountain inn where Iris and Gilbert meet cute, all the action in The Lady Vanishes takes place on the train, which gives it a cramped, claustrophobic quality, a physical trap, for characters trapped by circumstance.  A very Hitchcock device.  Night Train to Munich has its share of the artificial, but no metaphor so literal.  In the Hitchcock, Charters and Caldicott stand in for the audience, skeptical but willing to suspend belief; in Night Train, their function is less whimsical and more dramatically urgent, although they still get in some stiff upper lip zingers.

CHARTERS    Bought a copy of Mein Kampf.  Occurs to me it might shed a spot of light on all this how d’ye do.  [Pages through book]  Ever read it?

CALDICOTT   Never had the time.

CHARTERS    I understand they give a copy to all the bridal couples over here.

CALDICOTT   I don’t think it’s that sort of book, old man. 

Basil Radford and Naunton Wayne, who played Charters and Caldicott, went on to play them in a couple of more pictures, and on radio (with Gilliat and Launder scripting, again).  They’re pompous, dense, and endearing. 

The Lady Vanishes is a fantastic movie, one of the best early Hitchcocks, and a box of marvels to unwrap.  You can watch it over and over, and still be charmed every time.  Night Train to Munich is overshadowed by the movies Carol Reed directed just after the war, and because it’s seen as derivative of Lady.  I don’t agree, as I’ve tried to make clear.  You can find it on YouTube, in a very decent print, but for truly crisp and lustrous, get the Criterion DVD.

Words and Phases

My traveling companion and I hit the road after Malice Domestic. We traveled through early May. Bases needed to be touched. After a bit more than a week knocking about the Eastern Seaboard, we have finally returned to Fort Worth.

If I owe you an email, start the clock now. We've been largely incommunicado these last few days.

Today, I am unpacking the flotsam of a mystery convention. In my briefcase, I discovered that I had tucked the April 27th issue of The Washington Post. It contained an op-ed about the resignation of John Ulyot, the spokesperson for the Defense Department. The piece quoted Ulyot talking about why he'd left the administration. "The president deserves better than the current mishegoss at the Pentagon."

Without getting stalled by the politics, the Yiddish word struck me. According to the Jewish Language Project, mishegoss means foolishness, nonsense, or craziness. The word also describes chaotic actions. I hadn't known the word before I read the article. The expressions I use to chronicle that sort of senseless activity typically involve one or more profanities. I hope to have this gentler word at the ready next time.

I also found a card in my briefcase from friend and fellow short story writer, Mary Dutta. A blog on her webpage introduced me to the French expression l'espirit de l'escalier. She writes that the phrase literally translates to "stairwell wit" and refers to that clever comeback you think of after the moment has passed. Perhaps, as the expression suggests, you find your retort as you descend the stairs on your way out the door. Again, I didn't know the expression until I read her blog. Hopefully, I've tucked it away for future reference.

I don't think I'll be quicker on the rhetorical draw. But at least on future occasions when I'm disappointed by my timing, I'll have a French phrase to explain it.

Mary's blog, by the way, doesn't offer a word for the winded guy who runs back up the stairs and futilely tries to steer the conversation back to the original point so that he can drop the delayed bon mot.

John Ulyot and Mary Dutta got me thinking about words I don't know. In particular, I thought about words that may not exist in English, but we wish they did, so we've swiped them from another language. Schadenfreude is my all-time favorite example.

In the heady atmosphere of a readers and writers convention like Malice Domestic, I get exposed to an array of outstanding short stories. Sometimes I read a story I truly enjoy, but it comes from a place or describes a character so far removed from my experience that I know I could never have conceived of that person or done that place justice. My feelings are full of enjoyment and admiration.

It's when the stories hit closer to home that things get complicated.

© Creative Commons

Occasionally, I read a story where the characters, setting, or theme seem to be within my grasp as a writer. My response can easily become a big stew. I still have the enjoyment and admiration. I ask myself how the author achieved the effect I've felt and what I might learn from her for the next time I sit down to type. There is a pinch of covetousness, perhaps, a wish that I'd thought of the particular twist or developed the characters in that way.

But I don't really like covet as the descriptor. I don't begrudge the author. It's a big pool, and there is room for all of us to play in it. Maybe there's a soupçon of self-flagellation for believing I should have thought of it. Perhaps I need a therapist rather than a thesaurus.

Do you ever read a story that conjures up the mix of similar feelings? Do you have a word for it. If you do, I'd love to learn it.

I might think of it myself, but I'll likely be descending a long stairwell at the time and won't be able to write it down.

Until next time.

Disclaimer

    One of the best movies of the 'Sixties was Rashomon, a beautiful black and white film set in the samurai era by Akira Kurosawa and based on a story by his country man, Ryunosuke Akutagawa. The plot revolves around an assault and murder; a samurai and his wife, traveling through a forest, are attacked by a bandit. When the dust settles, the wife has been raped, the samurai is dead, and the bandit, eventually to be captured, is on the run.

Cate Blachett

    Each of the protagonists presents a radically different view of events, the wife and the bandit in person; the dead samurai, via a trance medium. Unsurprisingly, each story casts the teller in the best possible light, though one commonality is that there is no good ending for the woman in any scenario.

    I thought about Rashomon, seen so long ago, with Disclaimer, the brand new Apple + series by Alfonso Cuaron and based on the Renee Knight novel of the same name. Truth is once again closely related to self interest and self image, but modern society gives far more opportunities for  promoting one's point of view. The samurai, his wife, and the bandit had only their testimony. The characters in Disclaimer have books and websites and photographs and email and messaging.

Kevin Kline

    But as Pontius Pilate asked, What is truth? And how can it be untangled from passion, malice, self interest, shame, hate and guilt? Rashomon took under two hours; Disclaimer takes seven episodes, but both come to similar conclusions, and sad to say, one of them is that societal odds are still stacked against women.

    Just the same, Disclaimer, well cast and quite elegantly photographed, is mostly entertaining with dramatic final episodes. At heart, it is a story of grief becoming toxic and a man finding purpose in revenge after the loss of his son and his wife's depression and eventual death. Played by Kevin Kline, Steven conveys both genuine sorrow and cold, manipulative malice.  

    In this age when print seems old fashioned, it is reassuring for a writer that Steven's chosen instrument of revenge should be a self published novel. But then The Perfect Stranger only needs a handful of readers, beginning with Catherine (Cate Blanchette) the woman he blames for his son's drowning. And though the novel begins with the usual disclaimer that the work is fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidence, in this case, Steven doesn't mean a word of it.

Leslie Manville

    No, The Perfect Stranger is the absolute truth about a long ago holiday in Italy, and if Catherine or her husband (Sasha Baron Cohen) or son (Kodi Smit-McPhee) have any doubts, well here are some photos to back up the story. And here is an Instagram website purportedly belonging to the long dead Jonathan (Louis Partridge) with more pictures and lots of troll bait. 

    The Perfect Stranger, actually composed by Steven's wife (well played by Leslie Manville), is a genuinely good read. Plus, Steven seems diffident, vulnerable, earnest, and compassionate, even when the viewer already knows his game.

    The structure of the series helps to make him convincing. Contemporary events are intercut with scenes from that long ago Italian summer. These, while absolutely essential to the working out of the plot, are the weakest episodes in the series, with various wrong notes smoothed over by erotic scenes reminiscent of the men's magazines of the last century.

Louis Partridge

    These glimpses of the past certainly could be shorter, but they serve a clever purpose, and viewers who persist will be rewarded with a gripping finale. And some questions, too. With all our tech, are we any closer to accurate knowledge of events than the ill fated trio in Rashomon? Or are we, in fact, more vulnerable to lies, ever rushing to find truth and quick to endorse – and spread ever more exaggerated opinions? Nervous, on the one hand, lest we offend the proprieties of the moment, and on the other going to extremes when we are convinced we are right? 

    Disclaimer is a slick and sometimes manipulative thriller that raises some of the real questions of the moment.

History, Language and Crimes

This is exhausting. Life once seemed like a road to travel - choose the less traveled one or walk the one you know, whatever you wanted, but it was a road going forward. Now, it feels like a merry go round without the fun, just the going round and round part because:

Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

The learning part is missing, hence the round and round part, as well as the language, history and crimes part. 

What have we failed to learn? 

Way back 1946, In Politics and the English Language: An Essay on Writing George Orwell wrote, "if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought. A bad usage can spread by tradition and imitation, even among people who should and do know better."

In 1949, in the Appendix of 1984, The Principles of Newspeak, George Orwell wrote, "The purpose of Newspeak was not only to provide a medium of expression for the world-view...but to make all other modes of thought impossible."

If we travel forward in time to just a few years ago, we will remember a world where infectious diseases like measles were held at bay by a robust uptake of vaccines because vaccines were considered a responsible way to protect our children and those around them. However, today we have measles outbreaks throughout North America because what has decimated vaccinations are antivaxxers words like "freedom". Freedom is defined as, "the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action" and its antonyms are "slavery, bondage, captivity, confinement, oppression, imprisonment". One can see why antivaxxers chose the word 'freedom' to describe their dangerous choice. They also tout phrases like, "do your own research" to dismiss the expertise of researchers and doctors and pretending that true expertise can be replaced by internet searches. This language hides the truth of community responsibility, the complicated expertise behind vaccine effectiveness and worst of all, it hides the suffering and deaths caused by these infections. The freedom to cause suffering and death is a freedom no one should want. 

Fast forward to a meeting last week between Prime Minister Mark Carney and President Trump where language was again used to 'corrupt thought'. President Trump revisited the annexation of Canada, claiming the Canada-U.S. border is an "artificially drawn line...Somebody drew that line many years ago with, like, a ruler — just a straight line right across the top of the country... When you look at that beautiful formation, when it's together — I'm a very artistic person — but when I looked at that beaut, I said, 'That's the way it was meant to be.' "

Prime Minister Carney responded by saying, “Having met with the owners of Canada over the course of the campaign ... it’s not for sale. Won’t be for sale, ever.”

Prime Minister Carney's response was applauded throughout Canada by the owners of Canada. However, there was a great deal to worry about in that meeting. The U.S. president, on the world stage, touted some dangerous language, inciting some dangerous crimes and all crimes have victims.

Annexation of countries is prohibited by international law and at the core of that law is respect for territorial integrity of countries and their borders:



"The international legal norm that prohibits forcible annexations of territory is foundational to modern international law. It lies at the core of three projects that have been central to the enterprise: (1) to settle title to territory as the basis for establishing state authority; (2) to regulate the use of force across settled borders; and (3) to provide for people within settled borders collectively to determine their own fates." 

This International law should not just be known, but the history of it must be understood as a law born from the atrocities of WWII. German annexation of Austria in 1938 was accomplished without the use of force but with the threat of force. Germany then went on to 'annex' other countries, igniting a world war and then losing that war. When the allies occupied Germany after the war, they did not annex Germany, hence earning the allies a place in history as standing on the side of ethics while German actions have been rightfully scorned. 

The prohibition of annexation was born from the need to protect countries and protect the world from devastating wars. Understanding that history - the difference between those who annex and those who don't - is important. 

What about the talk of calling the Canada-U.S. border an "artificially drawn line"?  Well, that goes hand in hand with annexation because not invading countries means you respect their borders and their right to decide what happens within their borders. 

"Respect for territorial integrity - the principle under international law that nation-states should not attempt to promote secessionist movements or to promote border changes in other nation-states, nor impose a border change through the use of force - is a guiding principle among OSCE participating States under Article IV of the Helsinki Final Act of 1975."

This language of annexing Canada, making it the 51st state, by erasing the borders between the countries is dangerous. Orwell said, "The purpose of Newspeak was not only to provide a medium of expression for the world-view...but to make all other modes of thought impossible." What is missing in this world-view is the illegality of annexation, the respect for borders as crucial for territorial integrity, the history of why annexation is illegal and how it has kept the peace. Basically, the complicated issues and history are replaced with catchphrases. On social media, even democrats opposing Trump have done so by buying his statements, saying they want to be annexed by Canada - a shocking statement indeed. 

If we don't understand and learn from history we are forced to repeat it and the history we should remember is not just recent, it's ongoing - the attempt of Russia to annex the Ukraine has led to a devastating loss of life and the destruction of a way of life for Ukrainians within their borders. The reason annexation is illegal is because, like all crimes, there are victims that suffer. That is what would result in Canada as well if the U.S. attempted to annex us and make no mistake, Canadians understand the risk this poses for the ones they love, the life they love and the country they love. The anger of Canadians is because we understand what is at risk and have no patience with ridiculous jokes about our lives.  

Imagine if this was another action that was once legal and is now illegal, like rape, was turned into a line repeated without acknowledging the ethical and personal implications. It would be outrageous to debate who will rape who, or saying that the use of the word 'no' is artificial and can be ignored. This is exactly what Orwell meant when he wrote, "language can also corrupt thought. A bad usage can spread by tradition and imitation, even among people who should and do know better."

So here we sit, on a merry go round of history not understood, language corrupted and limited to words and phrases failing to encompass any complexity of the concepts and the human costs of crimes. We have learned little from how simple words and phrases dismantled 225 years of robust vaccination. Annexation has been illegal for less than 100 years. What are the chances that it will withstand the new assault with language and how long until countries revert to taking over other countries as if it's not illegal?  

Many of us tried to fight back against antivaxxers, and now we're fighting against annexation - the language, the simplicity of thought, the shrugging off of complexity and human suffering - it's all the same. So, round and round we go. While some have conversations about annexation with smiles on their faces, nodding in agreement, the rest of us are drowning in frustration, sadness and fury at the suffering and crimes their words are hiding. Language is being bastardized - removed from the history of words, the grave issues those words entail and this is a call for crimes to be committed with no regard for the victims impacted. When Putin called for the annexation of the Ukraine, the rest of the world was appalled and the resulting death and destruction has broken our hearts. Yet, a few years later when President Trump calls for the annexation of Canada, he is surrounded by supporters nodding, smiling and speaking with the media supporting this horrific action. 

This is the exhausting round and round trip we're on - all it would take is a deeper understanding of history and language to get off the roundabout and walk forward on an open road again.

The Foot Is What You Need It to Be, and an Ox Gave You the Mile

My bookcase was in the wrong spot somehow, like a feng shui thing. Moving it across the room could open up everything. Maybe, if the spot was wide enough. I didn't have a measuring device handy, but seriously, our ancestors tamed fire and wolves using only their wits. So I measured the bookcase the old-fashioned way. 

I walked it heel-to-toe. 

And as I did, I had a thought: This is a horrible way to measure things. A Bob foot depends on how straight I step, whether I'm wearing shoes and how clunky. But that's exactly how those ancestors built up our world, by body part intervals. It's a weird and wonderful story.

Old School

A finger is a common measure across history. A Sumerian noir detective might splash a few fingers of Mesopotamian hooch. Or a hand's worth, the width of the palm. A span measures extended fingertips from the thumb to the little finger. A fathom is the length of outstretched arms, which helped sailors mark off rope for sounding lines. As a bonus, arm span approximates human height. If water is more than a fathom deep, your feet don't touch the bottom. 

The Babylonians and Sumerians were all about the arm. Specifically, the cubit, or a forearm's length from the elbow to the middle finger's tip. The Egyptians got together on a standard, the Royal Cubit (20.6 modern inches). Approved measuring devices--cubit rods and ropes knotted at cubit intervals--made sure nobody went rogue. The Royal Cubit built the pyramids. 

The cubit was the way to go until Greeks stepped in with an idea. Literally. 

To the Greeks, measuring by arms and elbows had an obvious limitation: The world is a big place. They weren't about to go around planning city-states and sea routes with arms and rope. 

"Check it out," the Greeks said. "We're walking around on measuring devices super ideal for distance." The human foot, or a Greek pous (podes in plural), the length of a foot wearing a shoe or sandal. A pace, or a walking step with each foot falling once, equaled 5 podes.

If pacing seems like a variable standard, it was. Taller Greeks took longer strides. Younger ones strode more briskly. Was the pace-taker in good health? Going uphill or downhill? What were the weather and ground conditions? Ten Greeks taking 120 paces would travel ten different distances. The local pous could be anything from 12.4 to 12.7 modern inches. Over 120 paces, that's a six-foot swing.

Still, the Greeks were stepping out distances. The critical distance was 600 podes (120 paces), or a stadion -- literally, "to stand" or "standard." The total harmonized with the Greek base-60 system for precise measurements--a Babylonian idea still around today for marking time, longitude and latitude, and celestial coordinates. The stadion also became a standard track length for footraces. Over time, those races were so popular that the length name latched onto the events and tracks themselves.

The Roman Standard

Unsurprisingly, the Romans borrowed the Greek system. A pous became a pes, and podes became pedes. But the Romans, thinking in scalable terms, used a base-10 decimal system for big stuff like bulk trading and infrastructure. A Roman surveyor stepping off distances had to keep going to a nice, round 1,000 paces--or in Latin, the mille passus. 

Variability was intolerable if you were set on marching around and expanding your influence, which the Romans were. And the Romans could organize.

In the Empire, all roads really did lead to Rome. Their road network moved soldiers and officials expeditiously along mapped routes to even the farthest outpost. Those Roman surveyors used odometers to measure and map their precise-ish distances. At each standard mile, the Romans placed obelisks or stones--millaria--notionally to mark the distance from the Forum. 

More to the point, everyone knew who was in charge. 

Rome stretched the Greek stadion to 625 paces (pedes), or a one-eighth mille. Sporting-wise, the Romans lengthened and looped their tracks for chariot racing (the circus) and more graphic sports. Like the Greeks, Romans just called the whole entertainment venue the Latinized stadium. 

It was quite a time for distance measurements. Order and function.

Well, Rome fell.

And Now For Something Completely Different

Out on their island, all post-Roman, the Old English Anglo-Saxons were getting bloody attached to land measures not based on body parts. The Anglo-Saxon idea? Oxen.

The idea focused on area. The Anglo-Saxons clustered their farmland near rivers, and crucially, they kept oxen to help out. It's no fun turning an ox team and plow. Both dynamics meant most Old English parcels were long but thin. 

A key distance became the "rod." The word had meant a pole or a perch, from the Roman pertica, a pike-ish stick of varying lengths and used for surveying land. Or, of course, for goading oxen. The Anglo-Saxons gauged a rod at fifteen feet. This was the Germanic long foot, roughly 13.2 modern inches.

The oxen couldn't have cared less about math and ratios, but they were invested in their workload. "Aha," the Anglo-Saxons said, having noted how far an oxen team usually plowed without a rest. The Anglo-Saxons dubbed that a furrow's length--a furhlang, or eventually a furlong. The acre ran one furlong long by four rods wide, or what an oxen team could plow in one day. An oxgang--15 acres--was how much an ox could handle over a whole plowing season. 

As not to give the oxen too much say, the Anglo-Saxons improved their survey tools and huddled up on a standard. Everyone decided a furlong should be 600 feet, comprised of 40 rods or 200 yards. Well done, all.

Then the Normans came along. Being the continental sort, they weren't sold on ox-based distances, not at all, and they set about implementing proper Roman distances. The main obstacle was immediate. Immovable. Everyone's property lines were measured in long-established rods and furlongs and taxed accordingly. Using the shorter 12-inch Norman foot would've recalculated each holding to more acreage, which risked a major tax hike and likely revolt. 

How, then, did the Normans solve for converting oxen steps to human paces?

They didn't. The furlong remained at its Germanic length--but it would be comprised of 660 Norman feet, not 600 Germanic ones. A rod stayed a rod--with a 10% promotion from 15 to 16.5 feet. 

Tax crisis averted. Still, England was a growing power. Having its land, sea, and economic interests measured differently left the Crown at sixes and sevens. Someone needed to sort it out.

Cut to 1593. Elizabethan decision-makers were in whatever royal planning committee, everybody stewing over how the whole realm needed global scale but was anchor-tied to rods and furlongs. Fair play to the oxen, the planners admitted. "Oy," Duke Someone said, "what about the Romans and their stadium one-eighth mile business? That was what, 600-something feet? Couldn't we just go with that?" 

They did precisely that. Elizabeth I proclaimed eight Germanic furlongs to be an English mile comprised of 5,280 Norman feet. In 1959, that distance was codified as the international mile, which was greeted with a shrug in Rome. They'd long since moved to the kilometer.

Meanwhile, in my Basement

There I was, measuring a bookcase by stepping it off heel-to-toe. In Skechers, size 8.5. The bookshelf was pretty much five Bob feet wide--too wide by half a Bob foot. For the record, a Bob foot is essentially the length they used back in Rome. 

The bookcase and its flow situation sit as they were. I'm cool with one thing, though. Even in failure, I'd joined an ancient tradition based on body shapes and imperial whim and even oxen work ethic, a tradition of measuring badly--but accurately.

The official Bob foot, shod

Behind the Scenes: Scattered, Smothered, Covered, and Chunked

On Wednesday, I learned Scattered, Smothered, Covered, and Chunked: Crime Fiction Inspired by Waffle House (Down and Out Books), is nominated for an Anthony Award for best anthology.

It is an amazing honor and privilege to have co-edited an anthology with my mentor and friend, Michael Bracken. I could not have imagined a more PERFECT moment than when we received this incredible news. 

 

Michael mentioned in a recent SleuthSayers post that he doesn’t view an anthology award as an editor’s award; he views it like the Academy Award for Best Picture because it reflects the work of an entire team of people—editors and writers, our cover designer, and publisher—to succeed. I share his view and am deeply grateful for our team of talented contributors including stories written by Alan S. Orloff, Nils Gilbertson, J.D. Allen, Mark Bergin, Bonnar Spring, Austin S. Camacho, Tammy Euliano, Ann Aptaker, Penny Mickelbury, Donna Andrews, Sherry Harris, Deb Merino, Sean McCluskey, Michael Bracken, Andrew Welsh-Huggins, Hugh Lessig, and the brilliant cover designed by Angela Carlton. 

This is my first published anthology sitting in a co-editor’s seat. How did I get so lucky? The short answer is Michael Bracken. 

Birth of an Idea

In 2018, I attended Malice Domestic for the first time and met Michael Bracken. He was my port in the speed dating storm. It was a pivotal moment in my writing career (more on that here). During the years that followed, I had an opportunity to contribute stories to several of his anthologies, including one story we co-wrote together that was short-listed for a Derringer Award. Often, we met for lunch at writing conferences, and our conversation always turned to anthology ideas. I had the best time brainstorming with him and quickly learned which anthology ideas worked and why others didn’t.

 

So, in May 2023, it wasn’t unusual that I sent Michael an email with another anthology idea, two proposed titles for one concept: The Pull, The Drop, The Mark OR Scattered, Covered, Smothered, and Chunked: Crime Fiction Inspired by Waffle House. 

 

He thought the idea was promising, suggested a revised title (featured on the cover), and asked if I would like to co-edit the project with him. I had little experience. The opportunity to learn from Michael was something I couldn’t pass up. I quickly agreed, and it has been a master class.

 

Takeaways Co-editing with the Master

Shared Vision

Both editors need to share the same vision for an anthology. This vision shapes submission guidelines, influences how stories are edited, and who is invited to contribute.

 

Workflow

Version control is critical. Mistakes are easy to make, especially when two people are editing the same project. Before the project begins, decisions need to be made on which editor communicates directly with authors, which editor communicates with the publisher, and workflow—how stories are received, labeled, stored, and move through the editing process. 

 

Deadlines

Life happens, often things we can’t predict—a death in the family, illness, home repairs, etc. It’s important to create realistic deadlines with these moments in mind.

 

Assembling the Team

Several factors determine which type of submission call works for which project. With time constraints and juggling several projects, Michael and I decided submission by invitation only had to be our approach. We reached out to authors we admired—both multi-award winning and rising stars.

 

Working with the Publisher

Understanding the publisher’s requirements and deadlines are crucial. The finished manuscript should be formatted to the publisher’s specifications, and each step in the process—checking the publisher’s copyedits, reviewing the page proofs, checking the cover copy, and collaborating on the cover image—should all happen in a prompt and professional manner.

 

Working with the Authors

Maintaining communication with contributors builds trust and respect. Michael insisted we maintain regular contact with our contributors and send updates during each step in the process. I appreciated this as a contributor to Michael’s anthologies. Now, having co-edited an anthology, I also appreciate the extra effort this requires and the importance of maintaining a professional relationship with authors.

 

Have you co-edited an anthology? Are you an author who worked with more than one editor on a project? What insights can you share?

***

Speaking of teams, we are assembling one in New Orleans! If you love waffles and crime fiction stories, we hope you will celebrate this incredible Anthony Award nomination with us, along with the awards our contributors have recently received for their Waffle House-inspired stories. 

Tammy Euliano’s “Heart of Darkness” won the Derringer Award for best short story of the year. 

Sean McCluskey’s “The Secret Menu” was selected by Otto Penzler and John Grisham for Mysterious Bookshop's anthology: The Best Mystery Stories of the Year 2025.

Want to read Scattered, Smothered, Covered, and Chunked: Crime Fiction Inspired by Waffle House? Find it here.

 

Find me at Bouchercon (September 3-7), mention Scattered, Smothered, Covered, and Chunked, and receive waffle-inspired swag in honor of our talented team. Hope to see you there!

 

 

 

Mitchell and Webb say Watch Your Language

 My favorite British sketch comedians are back with  some advice for office workers.

Schrodinger's Finalist

 

"Well, Mickey, it's an exciting day here in Robert Lopresti's house."

"It sure is, Ray.  Maybe we better tell the people why."

"Good idea.  This is the morning of May first, when the winners of the Derringer Awards are announced.  And as you know, Lopresti has been nominated for best novella."

"Which of his stories was that for, Ray?"

"'Christmas Dinner.'"

"That's right! I believe it was his third story about Delgardo, the beatnik detective--"

"Beat poet, Mickey.  The character hates being called a beatnik."

"Right you are, Ray. And we are here waiting to find out whether Lopresti won the Award or bombed.  Say, isn't he usually awake by now?"

"I believe he is."

"So why is he sleeping late on today of all days?"

"Maybe because this is the big day.  I mean, he might be the winner or he might not.  As long as he doesn't check his mail you might say both states are possible. (Chuckle.) Sort of like Schrodinger's cat."

"I've always felt bad about that cat.  Somebody ought to call the Humane Society."

"There was never a real cat, Mickey.  It's just-- Wait! Here he is. Lopresti has left the bedroom.  I see he has his phone in his hand and he's scrolling down the screen."

"The suspense is incredible, Ray.  When is he going to--"

"And there it is!  You can see it in his face.  That's a man who just lost."

"You know what he'll say, Ray.  It's an honor just to be nominated."

"That's true, it is. What's he doing now?"

"It looks like, yes, he's making a cup of tea.  That's quite a bold move."

"What do you mean, Mickey?"

"If I had just lost I would be drinking bourbon."

"At seven o'clock in the morning? Are you out of your--  Well, never mind.  Go in and interview him."

"Right.  Will do.  This is exclusive, folks. The first interview after the big loss.  Excuse me, Rob, I wonder if you have a few minutes--"

"Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"

"I'm a fictional construct."

"Oh. Another one. I swear, I'm gonna hire an exterminator."

"The fans were hoping for your thought on losing the Derringer Award."

 "Were they? Okay.  It's an honor just to be a finalist."

"I thought you were going to say to be a nominee."

"The Short Mystery Fiction Society tries to avoid that word, because any member or editor can submit a story for consideration. Some people call that a 'nomination,' which leads to all kinds of confusion."

"I see. But about your losing, that must be a great disappointment."

"Well, sure, I'd rather win -- which I have three times, by the way -- but I am delighted that Stacy Woodson, a friend and fellow SleuthSayer, took the prize. She turned in a great story. There's no shame in losing to the best."

"That's very big of you."

"Thanks. Oh, and don't forget that the SleuthSayers book Murder, Neat won the Best Anthology prize, and that's pretty special.  And I found out today a story I submitted was accepted for the New Orleans Bouchercon anthology."

"So, you aren't retiring."

"Hell, no."

"And what's next for Robert Lopresti?"

 "Tea. Probably a Danish, too."

"And after that?"

"I have to write a SleuthSayers essay for next Wednesday."

"What will it be about?"

"No clue.  I'll think of something."

"And there he goes, folks. A true professional.  With a Danish. It's apricot, I think. Back to you in the studio, Ray."

And the Derringer Goes To…

As you may have already learned, Murder, Neat: A SleuthSayers Anthology (Level Short, 2024), which I co-edited with Barb Goffman, earlier this month received the Short Mystery Fiction Society’s inaugural Derringer Award for Best Anthology.

Unlike some of my colleagues, I don’t view an anthology award as an editor’s award; I think of it as similar to the Academy Award for Best Picture, in that it requires the work of an entire team of people—editors and writers, primarily, but the publisher as well—to succeed.

In the case of Murder, Neat, we had quite a team. SleuthSayers, as a group, selected the theme, and Paul Marks had barely begun work as the original editor before illness sidelined him. Barb and I stepped in, solicited and selected stories, and worked with all the contributors to create the final manuscript.

We were working without a net. There was no publisher attached to the project—the first and only time I’ve edited an anthology on spec!—and we pitched the finished manuscript to a handful of publishers.

Verena Rose and Shawn Reilly Simmons of Level Best Books stepped up, and Murder, Neat launched Level Short, the publisher’s new imprint specifically for anthologies.

The end result, as we recently learned, is an award-winning anthology.

So, thanks to my fellow SleuthSayers for all you did to make our group’s first anthology a success!

SLEUTHFEST AND SHORTCON

A hurricane postponed last year’s SleuthFest in St. Petersburg, Florida, and the conference was rescheduled to May 15-18. At 4:00 p.m. Thursday, I’ll present “Writing Short: How to establish and maintain a long-term career as a writer of short crime fiction.” This is a variation of my presentation at last year’s ShortCon, and I provide invaluable information about the business side of writing and publishing short stories.

Speaking of ShortCon, the one-day conference for writers of short mystery fiction returns Saturday, June 7, for its sophomore outing at Elaine’s in Alexandria, Virginia. In addition to presentations by SJ Rozan (“Short Fiction—What’s the Point?”) and Jeffrey Marks (“Crafting Your First Collection”), I’ll present “Writing for Anthologies: How to Slip Between the Covers” and Stacy Woodson will lead an end-of-day panel discussion with all the presenters. ShortCon is limited to 50 attendees and was approaching sellout the last time I saw the registration numbers, so register now if you wish to attend.

Stand up for your rights.

There’s no topic more likely to enflame people than the First Amendment.  That’s because it protects free speech, and thus the freedom to write what you wish. But there are limits that have been imposed by law over the years, and not everyone agrees on what those limits should be. 

            A classic example is the freedom to yell fire in a crowded theater. That’s just the beginning.

            I’m not going to get into all the exceptions, because it would take up the whole essay, but suffice it to say there’s a lot of speech, and written expression, that’s not protected.   Most people would agree that these limits are necessary and common sense, and thus we have prohibitions against slander and libel, hate speech and incitements to violence, though even those charges have to be proven in court, and not easily. 

            I worked in advertising and was once informed by a commercial speech attorney (the most prominent in the country, I’ll have you know) that the truth was an absolute defense against a libel charge.  Consequently, I was able to use the name of a branded product in a print ad because I simply stated something about the product the company itself had published (the list price of a new Porsche).  There was no defamation or disparagement.  Just the facts, ma’am.

            He also told me on another occasion that I could use a photo my wife took of a house, without permission, as part of a book cover design.  As long as I didn’t make a claim that the owners were doing something illegal I couldn’t prove, like running meth out the backdoor, I could do it, since it’s not against the law to use a photo of a house.

            My lawyer friend makes clear that political speech and commercial speech are different in the eyes of the law, and commercial speech is where most rules against slander and libel are enforced.

            Political speech has a much higher bar, which is why Trump and his sycophants can lie through their teeth every second of every day and be immune from prosecution, but copywriters and publishers have to be more careful.

            This is why I’ve always changed the names of restaurants and retail stores easily identified by people who live in the Hamptons, where most of my books are set.  And never use the real names of characters I’ve lifted directly from life.

            The likelihood of a lawsuit is beyond distant,but why take the chance.  No publisher wants that kind of exposure and I don’t blame them. When I worked as an editor, I made this point to a writer who insisted on naming an actual company, unfavorably, in his novel.  We said sorry, we won’t publish you.

            As a fiction writer, the possibility of getting into legal trouble is about as remote as it can get.  Your publisher will know if you’ve drifted into dangerous territory and will advise you accordingly.

            If you’re self-published, I’d run your book by someone like my lawyer friend.  The odds are very low you’ll have to make changes, but they’re not zero.

            In this political environment, legal dangers have increased, for sure. Especially for non-fiction writers.  Ironically, fiction writers can portray a public figure committing all sorts of venal and carnal sins, and be fine as long as his or her identity is disguised behind a change of name and light variation in circumstances. But if you’re representing this as truth in nonfiction, and you can’t prove it, be careful.

        

            Hysteria has begun to set in within the arts community, and I don’t blame anyone.  There are real threats to our freedom of expression. But as for now, the First Amendment is holding, and we have a responsibility to exercise it with abandon. The worst thing would be to self-censure for no good reason because of reckless threats from the benighted and dictatorial.

            I’m not a lawyer. I might be wrong about some of the things I’ve written here. I’m just sharing my experience.  Yours might be different.  So please, consult an actual attorney if you have any concerns at all about your work.

How to Dye Your Husband

Wifey Sympath-O-Meter
aka Wheel of Misfortune

I’m just Wild about Hairy

The other day, a good friend who admits her taste in men is deeply flawed, told the funniest story in her best deadpan style. Husband № 3 was ‘hair-challenged’, i.e, balding. He believed dying his hair and eyebrows jet black would make it seem he had more, fuller hair. The opposite appears to be true, but he didn’t know.

Instead of asking for advice and assistance (thus acknowledging characteristic presence of Y chromosomes), he attempted the process by himself. Soon enough, his wife heard him yelling and cursing.

Yes, boys and girls, he had dyed his flesh. His entire forehead had taken on the complexion of a Goodyear tire.

In times like this, I picture an often brutal Wheel-of-Fortune^® device called the Wifey-Sympath-O-Meter™ where ‘sympath’ may relate more to ‘symple and pathetic’ than sympathy. Wifey wheel segments might contain such phrases as: “You poor thing,” to deep Southern “Bless his heart,” to Great Northern “You nincompoop!” As if pretending it mitigates the sting, we even hear foreign phrases, such as the French inspired “nicodème,” which means, well, nincompoop, or the German “dummkopf,” literally dumbhead.

Nitrogenic Mustard Gas Formula
The situation was more dire than they realized.
Chlorine and ammonia were principal ingredients
in WW-I’s chemical warfare compound, the
vesicant (blister agent) nitrogenic mustard gas.
Naïve housekeepers have died mixing the two.

Doofus husband begged his darling to google for a solution. Unbeknownst to her, he didn't wait. A man of ill-considered action instead of patience, he applied household bleach.

Meanwhile, Google found a couple of dye removal suggestions combining ammonia and an oil. She returned and started rubbing the oleaginous solution on his head, whereupon a sizzling “Sssssssss” and a scream rent the atmosphere. The concoctions chemically reacted into a substance resembling battery acid.

God love her. At one point, she was working on future ex-husband № 5, but may have reconsidered. She’s now found a guy who treats her well and has a full head of hair.

In the meantime, may crime lovers carefully mind their household chemicals, especially in the presence of those with uncluttered minds, who have less in their heads than on it.

Well, That's a Different Story

  

Like most writers who've been at it for a while, I've gravitated toward certain kinds of stories. I wander off the path pretty regularly--any route you follow too often gets old--but I find that most of my stories these days involve (1) mystery/suspense, (2) a Southern setting, (3) a protagonist who's a regular, average person, (4) a handful of named characters (no more than four or five), (5) either a murder or a robbery, (6) a third-person POV, and (7) a plot with at least a couple of twists.

If you consider two of my latest published stories, you'd find all these elements, but you'd have to look at both to find them all. Each story veers some distance away from my norm, and that's something I didn't even realize or think about while it was being written. I only noticed it later.

Here's what I mean.

My latest story in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine went on sale a few weeks ago--"Heading West" appears in their May/June 2025 issue. In some ways, that story fits right into my comfort zone: mystery /crime, robbery, less than half a dozen named characters, third-person viewpoint, several plot reversals, etc. But in other ways I varied the template a bit. For one thing, this story is set in the Old West, which I have done often in the past but rarely at AHMM. Out of my 28 stories there, two have been Westerns.

NOTE 1: A quick word about writing in the Western genre. I've often heard writers say they like to do mystery stories because those always contain a crime. Why's that important? Because a crime story means conflict is already there--it's built right in--and we all know that conflict makes for a good story (usually the more the better). I think the same can be said of Westerns. Almost every Western story I can think of, except maybe Old Yeller, contains gunfights and violence of some shape or another, so . . . well, you see my point.

This story also contains some conflict that goes behind human vs. human. Much of the agony in "Heading West" is human vs. nature. Not only the rough environment, but the gradual buildup and arrival of a powerful tornado. (Living where I do, I know a bit about tornadoes, and the one in this story scores a 10 on the Wizard-of-Oz scale.) When you mix a terrible storm with a band of crazed outlaws who want to kill your protagonists, that makes things tough for the home team. It also makes things fun for the writer. If you happen to read the story, I hope you'll have half as good a time as I did, writing it.

The other recent publication I wanted to mention is my story "Redwood Creek" in Michael Bracken's anthology Sleuths Just Wanna Have Fun: Private Eyes in the Materialistic Eighties (Down & Out Books). It appeared about the same time as my new AHMM story did, and features 13 other stories, each of them based on something memorable from that decade. I picked (naturally) "Movies of the '80s," so I dutifully made sure the early clues to the identity of the villain came directly from the movies that won Oscars for Best Picture, Best Actor, etc., during those ten years. Putting together a plot puzzle based on Academy Awards trivia turned out to be great fun. 

Some of the things (besides the 1980s theme) that made this story a bit different from most of my creations were that it was a PI story (I don't write a great many of those); it featured 16 named characters, which is a lot for a 5100-word story; its crime was a dognapping; and it was written in first person. As for POV, I've actually found myself writing more first-person stories than I once did, especially if there's a detective working a case that I want him/her to solve along with the reader.

I also made sure my private eye was far different from the Spenser/Mannix/Spade/Marlowe stereotype. Here's an early paragraph from the story:

    My name, by the way, is Ryan Grant, and I'm a retired private investigator. I was not, however, a movies-and-novels kind of PI. No downtown office with a bourbon bottle in the desk drawer for me, no pebbled-glass window in the door, no ceiling fan, no overflowing ashtray. I didn't even smoke. For twenty years I worked out of an office that was once the guest bedroom in our home while my college-professor wife earned most of our income. I was a liberated man.

NOTE 2: Another different--and, to me, special--thing about this particular anthology is that all the other contributors are friends that I've met in person or via Zoom. That doesn't happen often, and makes me look forward even more to reading all their stories.

How about the rest of you? Do you find yourself leaning toward the same kinds of stories, the more you write? Do you find yourself breaking the mold now and then? When you do, how much do you vary your settings, plots, POVs, characters, etc.? Do you ever hop from one genre to the other, or mix them up? How often? Has that been successful? Let me know, in the comments section below.  

As for me, several more "unusual" shorts are coming up later in May--but, hey, that's a different story.

See you then.