My Top Ten Books List...Actually a Dozen

From the messy desk of Paul Levine...

Over on Facebook, all the literary types are compiling their Top Ten book lists.

When you get tagged, you have to spend hours compiling your list (then sweating while you re-think it) or be frowned on by your friends. 

Let's start by admitting the silliness of the task.  I probably don't remember the best book I ever read.  On the other hand, some people are asking for the "most influential" books or the ones that "stayed with you."  By definition, I suppose, that means you remember the damn thing.

I limited my list to fiction.  And just like a television script that is supposed to run 53 minutes, I trimmed and trimmed and came up with an even dozen.

There are well-know authors on my best books list.  Updike, Steinbeck, Wolfe (Tom, not Thomas).

And one virtual unknown, if that's possible when you've had an Oprah selection and New York Times bestseller.  (Yes, it is possible).

I speak of Tawni O'Dell, whose heartrending, searing coming-of-age novel in rural poverty, "Back Roads," cut me to the bone. 

Two choices on my list are intensely personal.  They're the books that directly led to me writing "To Speak for the Dead."

Without their influence, I never would have become a writer.  No, I'd still be billing legal clients at enormous rates and eating rare tenderloin and fresh stone crabs for lunch at the Banker's Club.  Har!

So, thank you John D. MacDonald and Carl Hiaasen. 

Here's one geographical coincidence on my list.  Four authors -- MacDonald, O'Dell, John Updike, and Martin Cruz Smith -- were all born and raised in Pennsylvania.  A fifth PA author, James A. Michener, was a "finalist."

My dozen favorites are listed here on my personal blog.   

Paul Levine

Florida Animals: The Good, the Bad, and the Nutty

From the messy desk of Paul Levine...

Sorry for my absence.  I’ve been working 24/7 -- okay, maybe 12/7 --  finishing the first draft of the newest Jake Lassiter novel.  Now, I’m taking a breather.

Maybe you’ve been following the news about Florida's animals.  No, I’m not talking about James O. Born’s fraternity parties at F.S.U.  Trivia: Florida State was an all women’s college until shortly after World War II. Now it is proudly co-educational and even prouder of  its professional football team.

Ah!  Here’ a rare photo of Jim Born at one of those parties I mentioned.

But back to the other animals.  There’s Good News and Bad News.

Good News: Manatees Are Having Sex

The beleaguered Florida manatee (the “sea cow”) is making a comeback.  Despite all the idiots in power boats who run over the big, slow creatures in Florida waterways, the manatees have grown in numbers from a few hundred a half century ago to nearly 5,000 today.  The Associated Press reports that the species' designation may be changed from “endangered” to “threatened.”  That’s an improvement.

True confession.  I love manatees.  Not enough to date one, but I once had a manatee save Jake Lassiter’s life. How?   By allowing Jake to hitch a ride in an Everglades canal when he was being hunted down by bad guys in “Mortal Sin.”  

Bad News: Pancho is Dead

Pancho the crocodile is dead.

The blame rests with two Coral Gables partiers who did not win MacArthur genius grants.  This happened about a block from my old home in Gables by the Sea.  At two a.m., the couple jumped off a dock into a canal that is a protected crocodile sanctuary.  Guess what happened during their late-night swim.  A croc the locals call Pancho (they’re all tagged) bit them.  The two partiers sobered up fast and are fine now.

A couple days later, wildlife officials trapped Pancho in a net, intending to move him to the wilds. But he fought and fought...and died in the net.  Here’s Fabiola Santiago’s sad column in The Miami Herald.  And here’s the last photo of Pancho.

I can’t say I have the same warm feelings for crocodiles I do for manatees.  The crocs eat neighborhood dogs and cats that wander too close to the canal.  But then, the crocodiles were there first.  And I hate to see magnificent creatures killed through homo sapiens' stupidity.  It's just a damn shame.

Finally, it’s land crab migration season in South Florida.  These came out of the same mangroves that flank that Gables by the Sea canal where Pancho roamed.  Try not to run over them.  They can puncture your tires.

Paul Levine

I Left My Heart...in the Muir Woods

From the messy desk of Paul Levine...

Marcia and I are on a delayed honeymoon to San Francisco and Mendocino in northern California.  (Hey, it's July!  We live in South Florida.  Like Canadian geese, we migrate in search of better weather).

I've been coming to San Francisco since 1981.  Marcia had only been here once before, for an oral argument before the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit.  (My trips were more fun...but this one...is the best).

All these year, and I'd never been to Muir Woods, the thousand-year old Redwoods forest donated to the federal government by philanthropist William Kent at the urging of conservationist John Muir in 1908.  (Kent paid $45,000 for the land in 1905.  In today's dollars, that's about a gazillion.  Whatever, the place is priceless).

Here we are: Tree Huggers!

Also, People Huggers:

Here's what I recommend if you want to really learn about the trees.  Hire Tom Martell, a personal guide who'll pick you up from your hotel, get you to the woods at opening time, 8 a.m., (before the crush), serve you a picnic lunch, and spend three hours, hiking and giving you the scoop on the place.  Finally, he'll drop you at the Ferry Station in Sausalito.  All for $75.  (Another ten bucks for the scenic ferry ride past Alcatraz and back to the city). 

Here's Tom's website.    The official Muir Woods website is here. 

Morning at Muir:

But so much for the woods.

Let's talk about food.

We've had clam chowder and oysters at Hog Oyster in the Ferry Building, Dungeness crab cakes and Petrale sole at the iconic Tadich Grill, crispy zucchini cakes with cucumber and mint yogurt dressing spinach pies, and watermelon salad with toasted pine nuts and basil at Kokkari.  Here's that watermelon salad, which I'm going to make at home.

The Tadich Grill opened in gold rush days (1849), and no Jim Born, I was not the first customer.

Tonight's it's Vietnamese food at the Slanted Door.  Looking forward to cellophane noodles with crab.

And of course, no trip to the city by the bay would be complete without a cable car ride...and a Giants game (Sunday) against the Dodgers.

With the permission of my fellow bloggers, I'd like to stay here until after hurricane season. 

Paul Levine

"Why I Want My Kids to Fail..."

From the messy desk of Paul Levine....

Today, I turn Naked Authors over to a guest blogger: the mother of two of my grandchildren, my daughter Wendy Levine Sachs.

Wendy is a frequent contributor to the Living Section of CNN.com.  Today, she writes about -- hold onto your hats -- "Why I Want My Kids to Fail." 

An excerpt:

We are the generation of drone parents hovering above and swaddling our kids in bubble wrap so they don't get hurt when they fall. In fact, we do everything possible to not let them fall. In an uber-competitive age where we exhaust ourselves in the pursuit of perfection for our children, even from the womb, parents have bought into the myth of how to turn out successful people. We are living in a world of tutors, private lessons and specialized coaching, thoroughly believing that with all the right scaffolding, we can guarantee our kids WILL soar.

Ironically, at a time when our parenting culture is all about ensuring success, the innovative business culture of Silicon Valley celebrates failure. New York Magazine recently had a cover story called "The Failure Fetish of Silicon Valley." There are books, blogs and even conferences devoted to embracing the flop.

There's no stigma or shame. In fact, a failed venture is a notch in the belt, an honor of distinction, a bragging right. The founder of a start-up that goes belly up may even be courted to take the helm of another company. They turn failure into a rite of passage among the best and the brightest. Reinvent and move on -- that's the ethos of enterprising entrepreneurs today and perhaps that is a great lesson for parents, too.

 

I am reminded of a quotation from the great UCLA basketball coach and educator John Wooden: "Success is never final, failure is never fatal. It's courage that counts." Wendy's entire CNN column can be found here.

Paul Levine

Jake Lassiter, Meet Solomon & Lord

From the messy desk of Paul Levine...

I get similar emails all the time.  Yesterday, two came just moments apart.  Bob, from Ocala, Florida, wrote: "I've  been reading the Jake Lassiter series of legal thrillers since the 1990's.  When's the next one coming out?"

Elle, from I don't know where, wrote: "I love Steve Solomon & Victoria Lord.  I've been waiting for a new novel about them for years!"

Usually, I write back and say: "Don't bother me!"  No, that's no true.  I LOVE to hear from readers.   I sit in a darkened room all day long with no companionship other than a 14-year-old deaf dog named Nikki the Fart Machine.  So, keep those emails coming.

This is for Bob and Elle and all the others. I'm working on a new book in which Jake Lassiter defends Steve Solomon for murder...while falling hard for Victoria Lord.  The backdrop is a real criminal trial in Miami that produced lots of headlines and caught my attention.  I'll be writing more about that later on the blog. 

So, there you have it.  In television, we'd call it a "crossover."  Characters from one show appearing in another show on the same network.

This crossover could start an entire new series.  Or not.

Estimated date of publication.  Late this year. Yes, I have a title, but it would be bad luck to announce it so early.  (Among other things, Jim Born might steal it.).  But I can tell you this.  It's two words.  Three letters each. 

Jake was last seen in “State vs. Lassiter.”   Solomon and Lord were last bickering and  bantering in “Habeas Porpoise.”

As the time draws near, I'll post more about the new book.  For now, here's the moment where Victoria Lord tells Steve Solomon she can't represent him.

    “I need you, Vic.” Steve said.

    “I already retained Jake Lassiter.”

    “Lassiter!  I want a lawyer, not a linebacker.”

    “He’s won some tough cases.”

    “He’s a slab of meat.  If you won’t represent me, I want Roy Black.”

    “You can’t afford Roy.”

    “Tell him it’s me.”

    “Already did.”

    “And he didn’t offer a courtesy discount?”

     "He doubled his fee."

Paul Levine

Judges and Their Daughters...

From the messy desk of Paul Levine...

When I'm elected President of the United States, I will only appoint female judges...and male judges with daughters.

I came to this conclusion yesterday after reading results of a study that is both startling and not surprising.  Yes, I think something can be both. 

"It turns out that judges with daughters are more likely to vote in favor of women’s rights than ones with only sons. The effect, a new study found, is most pronounced among male judges appointed by Republican presidents, like Chief Justice Rehnquist."  --Excerpt from The New York Times story, "Another Factor Said to Sway Judges to Rule for Women's Rights: a Daughter"

(Chief Justice Rehnquist and daughter Janet in 2005).

I know what Jim Born is saying: "Big Whoop."  That's because Jim is very old-fashioned and generally speaks like a character from "The Music Man."  What I'm saying is that, while the results are startling, they're hardly surprising.  We're all the products of our life experiences.  And as the study found, those experiences can outweigh both the law and personal, political ideology.

"The new study considered about 2,500 votes by 224 federal appeals court judges. 'Having at least one daughter,' it concluded, 'corresponds to a 7 percent increase in the proportion of cases in which a judge will vote in a feminist direction.'”

The results were even more striking if the daughter is an only child.  "Having one daughter as opposed to one son is linked to an even higher 16 percent increase in the proportion of gender-related cases decided in a feminist direction."

Professor Maya Sen, who conducted the study, summed it up (and corroborated my beliefs spent in 17 years of practicing law and 25 years writing about it):

"Justices and judges aren't machines.  They are human, just like you and me.  And just like you and me, they have personal experiences that affect how they view the world."

I wouldn't mind some more judges who can see the world from a feminist viewpoint.
****************************************

"State vs. Lassiter" on Sale

Oh, those crazy kids at Amazon have put "State vs. Lassiter" and three other of my e-books in this month's "Big Deal."  You can snag these little beauties for 99 cents!  What a deal for another 10 days.  The others are:
"Riptide"
"Flesh & Bones"
"Impact"

Meanwhile, "State vs. Lassiter" was recently nominated for a 2014 Shamus Award, given by the Private Eye Writers of America.  Winners to be announced in November at the Bouchercon Convention in Long Beach.



Paul Levine

It's Not the Humidity; It's the Miami Heat

From the messy desk of Paul Levine...

I had some minor foot surgery this morning, so no tap dancing tonight.  No Sony Tennis Open.  No practicing 50-yard field goals.  And a short blog.

First, a Word (and Photo) About the Miami Heat

First, my son Michael always accuses me of leaving athletic events early to beat the traffic.  Proof positive I stayed to the final gun of last night's Miami Heat 2-point victory over the Portland Trail Blazers.  The photo is Chris Bosh's last second block of Damian Lillard's shot.  If you look closely, you can see me in the brown jacket just behind Lillard's airborne right foot.  And if you look in the second row to the left, you can spot  Mitchell Kaplan (black shirt, beard), owner of the legendary Books & Books, here in Coral Gables and elsewhere.

Mark Twain Would Love the Miami Heat

Opening Lines:  Next in my series of opening lines I love. The opener of Mark Twain's "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is well known. Not only does it make us wonder about the narrator, it PLUGS Twain's earlier novel. Now, that's chutzpah. In fact, Twain, much like Dickens, was a helluva self-promoter. Here's the line:

"You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter."

What Would the Duke Think of Birdman's Tattoos?

I don't know what John Wayne would think of Chris Andersen's heavily tattooed body? I imagine he would not like it as much as Mark Twain would.

This is brought to mind because today's New York Times has a MAJOR review of pal Scott Eyman's new biography, "John Wayne: The Life and Legend." There are surprises:

He was a heavy smoker and hard drinker, like many of his characters, but also an avid chess player and book lover who could quote Shakespeare and Dickens (and who, Mr. Eyman reports, “had a surprising taste for Tolkien”). He collected Eastern woodblock prints and kachina dolls, and his impoverished childhood left him with a love of catalog shopping, buying so many presents for his children and friends that “mail order packages would arrive in bunches, 10 or 20 at a time.”

I was never a huge fan of The Duke...or his acting. And while this infuriates many of my friends, I just hate "The Searchers,"  and not just for its blatant racism.  But that's a subject for another day.

Paul Levine

My Inadvertent Promotion of a Book I Haven't Read

From the messy desk of Paul Levine...

I have nothing against self-promotion by authors.

How could I?  I'm been shamelessly flogging my own books since publication of "To Speak for the Dead" in 1990.  (See!  I just did it there).

But self-promotion is one thing in the publishing world.  Self-pity and whining are something else.

I refer to a piece in Salon by first-time novelist Stephan Eirik Clark, in which he complains about the difficulty of finding his book on Amazon, seven months before publication.  In doing so, Clark, an English professor at Augsberg College in Minnesota, picks up the tired old cudgel of Amazon bashing...and also seems to criticize his own publisher, Little Brown.

Clark's article, "Amazon Buried My Novel: Those Search Algorithms are for Sale," 
is wrong on many levels.  I have no trouble finding his book, "Sweet #9" on Amazon when putting his name into the search window.  Sure, plugging in the exact title confuses Amazon's search engine because it doesn't recognize the "number" symbol, and that troubles him a lot.

But wait there's more.  A conspiracy may be afoot.  Clark suggests that maybe his publisher failed to bribe Amazon into giving him better search results through those mysterious Amazon algorithms.  For this proposition, Clark relies on George Packer's recent New Yorker article, bashing Amazon for extracting promotional fees from publishers.  

As he is new to publishing, Clark might be surprised to learn that Barnes & Noble, the late Borders, and many other chains historically squeezed "co-op money" from publishers in exchange for front-of-the-store or end-cap placement, advertising and marketing.

This isn't new.  Amazon just does it better than...oh, let's say the defunct chain Waldenbooks.

What really seems to frost Clark's Minnesota buns is that Amazon's search engine places "Sweet # 9," a book he considers literary fiction,  on the same Search Results page as  "Sweet Valley High." 

I felt ready to channel the words of the great unifier, Jonathan Franzen. “I’m writing in the high-art literary tradition!” I wanted to scream at my computer. “And you’re going to lump me in with “Sweet Valley High” and “Sweet Valley Confidential — The Sweet Life?”

 Now, "Sweet #9" may be the best first novel since "Catcher in the Rye."  Or it might be dog poop.  I don't know.  But I hate pretentiousness in all its forms.

(I also realize that Clark may be so damn smart he purposely opened himself to ridicule by writing that...all in an attempt to get a thousand bloggers to tell him his ass is too tight.  In other words, his aim was to get others to cleverly flog his book, even inadvertently.  And here I am, doing just that).

I'll close with this advice for Professor Clark.  Keep on writing.  Keep on flogging.  But quit your belly-aching.

Paul Levine

Sex and Putin: Do I Have Your Attention Now?

From the messy desk of Paul Levine...

More Dishwashing, Less Sex?

The New York Times Sunday Magazine struck a nerve over the weekend with a story entitled: "Does a More Equal Marriage Mean Less Sex?"

Based on a study in the American Sociological Review entitled, "Egalitarianism, Housework, and Sexual Frequency in Marriage," the article had produced 862 on-line comments by Monday afternoon.  (Many were modern versions of the out-of-date but perhaps apropos term, "Poppycock!"

The study found:

"that when men did certain kinds of chores around the house, couples had less sex. Specifically, if men did all of what the researchers characterized as feminine chores like folding laundry, cooking or vacuuming — the kinds of things many women say they want their husbands to do — then couples had sex 1.5 fewer times per month than those with husbands who did what were considered masculine chores, like taking out the trash or fixing the car. It wasn’t just the frequency that was affected, either — at least for the wives. The more traditional the division of labor, meaning the greater the husband’s share of masculine chores compared with feminine ones, the greater his wife’s reported sexual satisfaction."

I'd like to hear readers' opinion.  Not to mention that of noted dishwasher and laundryman James Born.  As I am temporarily single, I don't get a vote.

Putin Gives Me a Pain

I don't know about you, but I just don't like looking at the pompous and arrogant Vladimir Putin, and he's taking the fun out of the Olympics for me. (I half expected the little weasel Edward Snowden to show up at the Opening Ceremonies with the Russian strongman).

At least, humorist Andy Borowitz made me laugh with his New Yorker tomfoolery,  "Sochi Hotel Guests Complain About Topless Portraits of Putin in Rooms."

Paul Levine

Compassion for a Bankrupt Lawyer?

From the messy desk of Paul Levine...

Law firm partners, associates, and even law students are buzzing about a New York Times piece entitled “A Lawyer And Partner; And Also Bankrupt.”  The article  was written by James B. Stewart, author of the number one bestseller, “Den of Thieves,” a harrowing account of insider trading scandals on Wall Street.  

The subject of the Times piece, Attorney Gregory M. Owens, is not seeking compassion, sympathy and least of all, publicity.  Owens works full time as a “partner” at the mammoth, deep-carpet, filthy rich firm of White & Case in New York.  (More about those quotation marks later).

On New Years Eve, Owens, 55, quietly filed a petition for bankruptcy, seeking to eliminate his debts, most of which stem from the disastrous collapse of another member of Big Law, Dewey & LaBouef. (D&L was to law firms what the Titanic was to cruise ships).

Owens doesn’t seem to be a spendthrift but recently had gone through a costly divorce.  On his bankruptcy petition, he lists his assets as a few hundred bucks in cash, used clothing worth $900, and a broken watch.  And, oh yes, about $1 million in retirement funds that are exempt from creditors under federal law.

Currently, he makes about $375,000 per year as a “services partner” at White & Case.  (He'd made about $500,000 a year at D&L).  In reality, a "services partner" is simply a high-paid employee.  In contrast, an “equity partner” really owns a piece of the joint.  Owens, for example, could be fired if business slacks off or he has a falling out with an equity partner for any reason at all, including perhaps bad publicity in The New York Times.  His specialty is the financing of mergers and acquisitions.  Or, in the words of the White & Case website Owens has extensive:

corporate finance/banking transactional experience representing investment and commercial banks, as arrangers, agents and lenders, and borrowers, with respect to among others secured and unsecured debt financing, senior and subordinated debt financing, borrowing base finance and letters of credit. 

Yes, you may YAWN, now.

Again, it’s hard to feel pity for someone with his salary.  On the other hand, I feel sorry for anyone grinding their lives away on such document-intensive boring-as-dirt labor. 

At its core, the story is not really about Gregory Owens.  It's more a symbol of the changing times in law firms, especially Big Law.  If you’re not a rainmaker – a guy or gal who brings in well-paying corporations – your career hangs by a thread. 

Many years ago, I was a young partner in the Big Law firm of Morgan, Lewis & Bockius.  We didn’t have equity versus non-equity partners.  After working hard-as-hell to become a partner in the Litigation Section, I left -- flat out quit -- to pursue a writing career.  I didn't think I could maintain the schedule required of a Big Law trial lawyer and also write a successful, i.e., publishable novel. Also, to be frank, I thought my professional life -- representing one giant corporation against another -- added little positive to society.  My friends, mostly lawyers, thought I'd gone stark, raving mad. 

While practicing part-time on my own in 1988, I sold my first novel, “To Speak for the Dead,” to Bantam in a six-figure, two book hard-soft deal. (Two novels, both hardcover and paperback.  Ah, those were the days).  Though long out of print, thanks to the wonders of Amazon, the novel is still selling these days on Kindle.

Where would I be today, had I stayed with Big Law?  Making millions or bankrupt?  Who knows?  (The American Lawyer says the average profits-per-partner of the top 50 members of Big Law was $1.6 million in 2012.  Ahem.  That's a lot of kindle books at $3.99).

But I know this.  I’m HAPPIER doing what I'm doing now and have done for the past 25 years.  And that’s worth a lot more than being an “equity partner.”

Paul Levine