The Writing Life

“Outtakes of a UFO Investigator” – What Do They Look Like?

No, I’m not talking about the UFO aliens.  I’m talking about the main characters in Outtakes of a UFO Investigator–Danny Shapiro, his mother Anna, his father Leon.

For those of who you haven’t seen my earlier Outtakes posts, I’ve been posting PDFs of stories that were originally part of my novel Journal of a UFO Investigator, but had to be cut when the novel took its present shape. (Click for chapter 1, chapter 2, and chapter 3.  For chapter 4, which I’ve just put up, click here or on the large picture at the bottom of this post.)

When I first started, I envisioned the Outtakes as a collection of materials from the cutting-room floor (as its title indicates), its “chapters” discrete episodes.  But now I feel it taking shape as a parallel novel to Journal of a UFO Investigator, with an integrity of its own.  It’s a story of Danny’s life in the day-to-day world, focusing on his investigation of a New Jersey UFO landing and the book he tries to write about it.  All while his mother is slowly dying, and–while this is happening, and he can’t bear to see it–he finds himself presented with the trip of a lifetime.

"Outtakes of a UFO Investigator": Danny Shapiro investigates a UFO landing at Scofield, NJ.  Painting by Rose Shalom Halperin

"Outtakes of a UFO Investigator": Danny Shapiro investigates a UFO landing at Scofield, NJ. Painting by Rose Shalom Halperin

Looking over the chapters I’ve posted from Outtakes, I see that they’re missing something pretty important.  The secondary characters, whom Danny meets in the course of his investigations, are described as they appear.  But not Danny or his parents.  Naturally–they were introduced in the published Journal of a UFO Investigator, and are again described in its sequel-in-progress, The Color of Electrum.

So here’s a few clues as to what they look like …

“She stands beside me, resting her weight on the back of my chair, touching my shoulder with her fingers.  I lean forward.  It makes me nervous when my mother touches me.  I smell the sour sickness of her body.  I don’t turn around, but I can see her in my mind: spindly limbs, gaunt, peaky face.  Her thick cat eyeglasses, the lenses like teardrops.  I wear glasses too.” (Journal of a UFO Investigator, chapter 1).

16-year-old Danny is describing his mother.  But indirectly he’s also describing himself.  His glasses, which he’s worn since he was a little boy, are an emblem of the bond the two of them share–which he’s ambivalent about, to say the least.  The glasses define for him his physical appearance, which he normally doesn’t rate very highly.  “I can’t stand him, I hate him, I despise him,” he says about himself in a convulsion of self-hatred; “with those thick glasses he’s the ugliest creature in the world” (Journal, chapter 30).

The beautiful Rochelle, his love interest in Journal, begs to differ:

“‘I’ve been wondering all evening,’ she said, ‘how you’d look without your glasses.’
“She reached up and took them off.  ‘Oh,
nice,’ she said.  ‘Very, very nice.’ She raised her left index finger to my eyebrow and lightly traced the outline of my eye socket.  ‘Marvelous socket.  And a scrumptious curve here,’ she said, moving her finger up the bridge of my nose and then down to the tip.  ‘And you cover it all up with glasses.  Why do you do it?’
“‘I can’t see without them,’ I said.
“‘Ever hear of contact lenses?  Ever read the Bausch and Lomb brochures?  My glasses are twice as thick as yours, I’ll bet, when I’m not wearing my contacts.’

“‘I’ve worn glasses since I was almost six,’ I said.
“‘Doesn’t mean you have to keep on wearing them.’”
(Journal, chapter 11)

In The Color of Electrum, Danny–18 years old, and a college freshman–gives a more balanced account of his now bearded self.

“His beard and mustache, after a sparse, awkward start, had come in full, reddish-gold in spots though his hair was still brown as ever.  Did he look good in it?  He’d never thought of himself as handsome, but maybe that was a mistake.  Briefly he examined himself in the mirror.  Nothing wrong with this face.  Agreeable, kind.  No obvious deformities, unless you counted the somewhat biggish ears.  Or the thick horn-rimmed glasses he’d needed to wear since he was a little kid.” (Electrum, chapter 1)

Danny’s father Leon is described in Journal mostly by negation.  Unlike Danny and his mother, he doesn’t wear glasses; therefore Danny attributes to him the “smooth, handsome face” that Danny doubts he can ever have (chapter 2).  The Color of Electrum goes into a little more detail about Danny’s parents, whose pictures he’s hunted up in an old college yearbook:

“He was surprised when he actually did find their photos, as if his father and mother and Mrs. Colton could not have existed in their younger selves, and now behold here was the proof they did.  Danny’s father, whom he’d imagined to have been a handsome young god, looked raw and twerpy in his yearbook picture, like a freshman who’d somehow gotten misclassified as a senior.  His mother had been plain-faced and delicate, the sadness of her short life—even then she’d known her heart was weak, hadn’t she?—already imprinted on her youthful features.
“But the real surprise was Meg Kupferstein, currently Mrs. Meg Colton.  Unlike his parents she looked away from the camera as if from a disdained admirer, her lips parted, her expression hotly sensual.  Her hair was light-colored, blond evidently, in the photo.  The heavy breasts, that now gave her a dumpy look, must have turned heads all over campus.
Man, she’s tough! the guys in the dorm would have said as they sat paging through the freshman photo book on a dull Saturday night, busting out of their skins with horniness …” (Electrum, chapter 3)

(“Mrs. Meg Colton” is Danny’s stepmother-to-be, who first appears in Journal, more fully in Electrum.  You’ll meet her in Outtakes, too.)

None of this, of course, would make it possible for someone who’d never seen these people to pick them out of a lineup.  But that’s not what writers do, when we describe people.  Rather, we’ll pick one or two outstanding features that we think will resonate with our readers, remind them of someone they know whom they can use as a model for their own mental picture.

Which, of course, will never be the same as ours.  You don’t envision Danny or Leon or Anna Shapiro the same way I do.  If a movie is ever made of Journal or of Electrum, the shape they take on the screen won’t look like either your mental construct or mine.  But if you have any mental picture of these people–if you can imagine them, as you read about them, standing and moving and talking–then I’ve done my job as a writer.

Which I hope I have.  And that you do.

Click on the picture to download chapter 4 of "Outtakes of a UFO Investigator" (PDF). Cover art by Rose Shalom Halperin.

Click on the picture to download chapter 4 of "Outtakes of a UFO Investigator" (PDF). Cover art by Rose Shalom Halperin.

Click here to read Chapter 1 of Outtakes of a UFO InvestigatorClick here to read the blog post to which it’s attached.

Click here to read Chapter 2 of Outtakes of a UFO InvestigatorClick here to read the blog post to which it’s attached.

Click here to read Chapter 3 of Outtakes of a UFO InvestigatorClick here to read the blog post to which it’s attached.

Would you like to have these Outtakes as podcasts–free of charge?  Let me know!  I’ll see what I can do to provide them.

by David Halperin
Learn more about David Halperin on LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/davidjhalperin
Connect to Journal of a UFO Investigator on  Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/JournalofaUFOInvestigator
and Find David Halperin on Google+

“Outtakes of a UFO Investigator” – Father, Son

“Leon comes off much kinder in this episode than in the finished book.”

That comment appeared on my Facebook Fan Page about the first episode of Outtakes of a UFO Investigator, which I published four weeks ago as a download from this blog.  It was posted by my friend Bryan Gilmer–and he ought to know.  Bryan’s not only read Journal of a UFO Investigator as a published book.  A valued writer colleague, he earlier read and commented on multiple drafts of it.  (In case you don’t know Bryan, he’s the author of the excellent thrillers Felonious Jazz and Record of Wrongs.)

Bryan’s absolutely right.  In Journal of a UFO Investigator as it took final shape, Danny Shapiro’s father Leon is something of an ogre, of whom Danny goes in dread.  Naturally.  We see him exclusively through Danny’s eyes.

"Outtakes of a UFO Investigator," chapter 2

" ... a vaguely circular hole in a clearing in a New Jersey woods that had been left by an extraterrestrial vehicle in search of soil samples" ("Outtakes of a UFO Investigator," p. 29). Note, on the left, the limb of the sassafras tree, broken by the UFO upon its descent.

“I should begin to be frightened.  Not of his walloping me when he comes storming in; he’s never done that.  But of the tidal wave blindness of his rage, the bitter words that burn like lava, that will leave me scorched and desolate and sleepless afterward as I struggle to swallow what the three of us spend our lives pretending isn’t so.  Namely that he hates me and everything I am.”

That’s Danny and his father, in chapter 1.  By midway through the story, something’s changed.  When Leon comes into Danny’s room in chapter 23, Danny feels his father’s exhaustion from supporting a family and caring for a sick, dying wife.  He understands how badly Leon needed the encouragement of a flirty letter he’s received from an unnamed but apparently female correspondent in Long Island.  When Leon quizzes him, Danny reflects that his father isn’t “using questions to prove to me how my life is all wrong, but like he’s genuinely interested.  Like he really wants to know.”

“Still with those pimples,” Leon says, as he touches Danny’s adolescent face, and in his voice Danny now hears sympathy.

“Maybe it’s not true, what I’ve always believed.  Maybe he doesn’t hate me.  Maybe this is something complicated beyond my grasp, by things I don’t remember, that happened before I was born.  And that aren’t written in the Bible.” (p. 156)

As Leon leaves the room, he gives Danny a look which Danny understands to mean:  “I never walked out on you and your mom.  Give me some credit for that, will ya?” To which Danny silently responds:  “Yes, Dad, I will.  I mean, I do.”

In other words–Danny’s growing up.  He’s getting his first inkling that he’s not the center of his father’s universe, that Leon Shapiro’s rage and frustration are rooted in a past to which Danny was a late and perhaps incidental arrival.  That it’s not about him at all.

When I spoke with an honors seminar at Northern Michigan University about Journal of a UFO Investigator, I asked the students whether they thought Danny will become more sympathetic to his father as he continues to mature.  The consensus was that he will.  I agree.  This process of Danny’s growing empathy, for the suffering of a man whom he’d never really liked or trusted, is part of what The Color of Electrum–the sequel to Journal of a UFO Investigator–is about.

In the meantime, Leon Shapiro gets a bad press he doesn’t entirely deserve.  It’s not something I’m happy about.  When I wrote the first draft of the book that became Journal of a UFO Investigator, some 15 years ago, it was far different.

The novel is currently 304 pages long, in the Viking Press hardback edition.  The first draft was 1500 pages of typescript.  Inspired by John Wain’s 1978 novel The Pardoner’s Tale (which I liked a great deal better than I gather some of the critics did), I alternated third-person and first-person chapters.  In the third-person chapters I told the story of Danny’s day-to-day life–as a junior high and then high school student, as a committed and slightly obsessed UFO investigator, as the son of a terminally ill woman who he doesn’t realize is dying until it’s too late.  Danny’s inner experience, in the form of a surreal story unfolding in the world of the UFOs, occupied the first-person chapters.

Of course the book didn’t fly.  How could it, bulky as it was?  Besides, as novelist Ann Prospero pointed out to me after she read parts of it, the two parallel stories kept bumping into each other, detracting rather than complementing.  “Keep the UFO story,” she advised.  “Cut the rest.”  And so, after more rewrites than I care to remember, Journal of a UFO Investigator took on its present form.  All of it in the first person, as Danny’s UFO journal.  The day-to-day context of his journal could only be hinted at, from within the framework of the journal itself.

I don’t regret having done this.  It’s what made the book possible.  But whatever choice you make when you write a novel, there’s a price to be paid.  Multiple prices, normally.  For me the heaviest cost was that Danny’s father was turned, from a full and often sympathetic human being, into a mostly sinister shadow onto which Danny can project his fears and angers.  There’s a truth in this too–isn’t that very much how we see our parents?  But the novel, in becoming tighter and more effective, also became in a significant way less rich.  Leon Shapiro no longer came across–or, he came across only obliquely–as who he originally was: a limited man facing almost unbearable tragedy.

Actually, I once wrote a chapter–a long chapter–from Leon’s point of view.  It flowed out of me.  I felt, writing it, that I knew Leon almost as well as I knew Danny.  If I were publishing it, I’d call it simply “Leon’s Story.”  Come to think of it, I believe I will publish “Leon’s Story” this summer, as part of the Outtakes of a UFO Investigator.

Today I’m publishing a different episode.  It’s set in the spring of 1965, when Danny’s a tenth-grader.  One afternoon his mother gives him the thrilling news that a UFO has landed practically across the Delaware River from their home, in the town of Scofield, New Jersey (fictional; modeled on Glassboro).  Danny, as a devoted UFOlogist, sets about “investigating”–and finds himself propelled into “alienness” of a sort he’d never bargained for.

(The photo above is from the real-life incident that underlies the story.  You can read the details on the timeline of my Facebook Fan Page for September 12, 1964.)

Does Leon Shapiro come across as sympathetic in this “chapter 2″ of Outtakes of a UFO Investigator, as he did in chapter 1?  Probably not.  Yet I don’t intend him to be a villain either.  Just a man struggling with a reality beyond his control, and like most of us doing a job with it that’s considerably less than optimal.

I’ll ask Bryan what he thinks.

And you–once you’ve read the story–what do you think?

David Halperin, "Outtakes of a UFO Investigator"

Click on the picture to download chapter 2 of "Outtakes of a UFO Investigator" (PDF). Cover art by Rose Shalom Halperin.

Click here to read chapter 1 of Outtakes of a UFO InvestigatorClick here to read the blog post to which it’s attached.

Click here to read Chapter 3 of Outtakes of a UFO InvestigatorClick here to read the blog post to which it’s attached.

Click here to read Chapter 4 of Outtakes of a UFO InvestigatorClick here to read the blog post to which it’s attached.


Have you enjoyed these episodes of Outtakes of a UFO Investigator?  Either way, I’d like to hear from you.  Post your comments here or on my Facebook Fan Page,
https://www.facebook.com/JournalofaUFOInvestigator
.

by David Halperin
Learn more about David Halperin on LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/davidjhalperin
Connect to Journal of a UFO Investigator on  Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/JournalofaUFOInvestigator
and Find David Halperin on Google+

“Outtakes of a UFO Investigator” – Danny Takes Flight

It’s time.

Five of my writer friends have read the manuscript of The Color of Electrum, sequel to Journal of a UFO Investigator.  They’ve given me their comments.  Another friend, a firefighter, has also read it, looking for errors of fact or plausibility.  He’s done me a great favor–given that The Color of Electrum is a thriller that turns on the theme of fire, in which Danny Shapiro is caught in the sights of a murderous arsonist.

So it’s time for me to start in on the final draft. The one I’ll send my agent in the next couple of months.

The process has gotten me to thinking, about the many, many drafts Journal of a UFO Investigator went through before it reached its final form.  In this and future posts, which I’ll schedule for the first week of each of the next several months, I’d like to share with you some recollections of that long and often painful process of editing, trimming, and rewriting.  I’ll also share, in the form of free downloads, some of the episodes that got cut from the novel.

Let’s make a new book out of these episodes–a book that I don’t think that will ever be published, at least in the conventional way.  A book, nonetheless, that I think will be fun to read.

Call it, maybe, Outtakes of a UFO Investigator?

Says the invaluable Wikipedia:  “An outtake is any take of a movie or a television program that is removed or otherwise not used in the final cut.  Some of these takes are humorous mistakes made in the process of filming (commonly known to American audiences as bloopers).  Multiple takes of each shot are always taken, for safety. Due to this, the number of outtakes a film has will always vastly outnumber the takes included in the edited, finished product.”  And so it was with my novel.

A lot of what I cut, in the course of Journal‘s 14-year process of evolution, really was the equivalent of a blooper.  But there were also a lot of stories that I think were really good, stories about Danny Shapiro’s real life as a teen-age “UFO investigator,” which had to go when the focus of the book shifted–as it needed to–to what was going on inside Danny during his UFOlogist days in the early and middle 1960s.  Most of these “outtake” stories were slightly adapted versions of things I really did, or that really happened to me, when I was a teen UFOlogist.

Like the time when I was 15 years old, director of the “New Jersey Association on Aerial Phenomena.”  And I, and my father with me, really did take flight …

Outtakes of a UFO Investigator by David Halperin

Click on the picture to download "Outtakes of a UFO Investigator" (PDF). Cover art by Rose Shalom Halperin.

Did you enjoy this episode of Outtakes of a UFO Investigator?  Either way–tell me about it!  Post a comment here or on my Facebook Fan Page,
https://www.facebook.com/JournalofaUFOInvestigator
.

Click here to read Chapter 2 of Outtakes of a UFO Investigator. Click here to read the blog post to which it’s attached.   

Click here to read Chapter 3 of Outtakes of a UFO InvestigatorClick here to read the blog post to which it’s attached.

Click here to read Chapter 4 of Outtakes of a UFO InvestigatorClick here to read the blog post to which it’s attached.

by David Halperin
Learn more about David Halperin on LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/davidjhalperin
Connect to Journal of a UFO Investigator on  Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/JournalofaUFOInvestigator
and Find David Halperin on Google+

“The Color of Electrum”–Ezekiel Visits the 60s

Novelist and poet Valerie Nieman, author of Blood Clay, did me the honor last month of “tagging” me for a writers’ blog hop on the theme of “My Next Big Thing.”  Val posted on her current project, a gripping, suspenseful novel called Backwater, about a young girl’s coming of age and her encounter with horrendous crime.  (You can read all about Backwater at http://valerienieman.blogspot.com/2012/12/my-next-big-thing.html. I’ve had a sneak preview of the manuscript–and it’s terrific!)

We were asked ten questions about our latest project.  And my latest is the sequel to Journal of a UFO Investigator, to which I’ve given the title The Color of Electrum.

At the bottom of this post, you’ll see the writers I’m tagging, and when and where you can read about their exciting new work.

Now here’s the ten questions, and my ten answers …

1.  What is the working title of your book or project?

The Color of Electrum.

2.  Where did the idea come from for the book or project?

Ezekiel's vision, as re-visioned by William Blake

Ezekiel's vision, as re-visioned by William Blake

I was a sophomore at Cornell University in April 1967, when eight students and a professor were killed in a mysterious night-time fire in their residence hall.  The Watermargin House, where I lived at the time, was particularly close to the students of that residence hall, and after their home was destroyed in the fire we found places in Watermargin for several of them to live.

Some weeks later, I was awakened in the middle of the night by a pounding on the door of my room.  I staggered out into the hallway and found it filled with Watermarginers making their way to the fire escape.  One of us had smelled smoke, awakened and alerted the others.  A few minutes later we stood outside the house, mostly pajama-clad, as our burning, smoking couch was carried from the living room to the back porch and thrown out onto the lawn.

There were no casualties that night.  We all got out safely.  But we knew that whoever had set the fire in the residence hall had now come after us and might be back.  For the rest of that semester we kept watch at night, hidden at the top of the stairs, watching the door for intruders.  I remember sitting with a friend from my first-year Arabic class, a length of heavy iron pipe in my hand, going over verb conjugations for the final exam while we waited for the arsonist to return.  (He–or she, or whoever it was–didn’t show.)

On May 22, 1967–the day before the Watermargin fire? or is my memory playing tricks?–the Cornell Daily Sun published a strange article entitled “Fire Passages Read,” which I clipped out of the paper and still have in my files.  It began: “A series of meetings at the Cornell Heights Residential Club to discuss death–at which passages from Ezekiel 1:1-13 describing the ‘burning coals of fire’ on the fifth day of the fourth month were quoted–preceded the April 5 fire at the club, according to reliable sources.

Ezekiel’s fiery vision in “the fourth month, the fifth day of the month”–a fire at Cornell on the fifth day of April.  Coincidence?  I don’t think anyone ever found out.  But I’d long been fascinated by Ezekiel’s vision (with its overtones of UFOs), and the idea intrigued me.  There were other dates in the Book of Ezekiel, attached to the prophet’s subsequent visions.  The Watermargin fire didn’t correspond to any of them.

Nor did the third fire, which I heard about at the end of May while I was having breakfast in the cafeteria of the student union.  “Went out into the hall,” I heard a fellow say at the end of the table–”all went up in flames!”  He was describing what had happened the night before in his Collegetown apartment.  Again, there were no casualities in this incident.  Were any of the people from the residence hall involved?  I don’t know.

This was the last of the fires.  No one was ever charged in connection with them, and as far as I’m aware the mystery has never been solved.  I don’t intend The Color of Electrum to provide the solution.  Rather, it imagines what might have happened if the initial fire had taken place exactly one year later than it did–April 5, 1968, a little under twelve hours after Martin Luther King was shot dead in Memphis, Tennessee.  And if Danny Shapiro–protagonist of Journal of a UFO Investigator, now in his freshman year at Carthage University–had been caught up in the swirl of (mostly fictional) events that the fire set moving.

3.  What genre does it fall under, if any?

Perhaps mystery, perhaps thriller.  Most essentially, a literary novel, “coming-of-age” in that Danny continues his struggle toward sexual and moral manhood.  I intend to convey something of the madness of the late 1960s, when real life in this country had turned as surreal as Danny’s teenage UFO journal.

4.  If applicable, who would you choose to play your characters in a movie?

For Danny, perhaps someone like Ben Feldman–but bearded, bespectacled, and his good looks understated.  (In the book, Danny “never thought of himself as handsome, but maybe that was a mistake. … Nothing wrong with his face.  Agreeable, kind; no obvious disfigurements, unless you counted the thick horn-rimmed glasses he’d been obliged to wear since he was a little kid.”)

And Annie Sharabi, Danny’s main love interest … she’s Yemenite-Jewish, but I could see her played by Arab or Latina actresses.  Maybe a younger Salma Hayek, chunkier and less glamorous but with the sensual allure and the ability to convey Annie’s deep anger?  I’ll leave that to the casting director.

5.  What is the one-sentence synopsis of your manuscript or project?

Danny Shapiro, college freshman and former “UFO investigator,” finds himself caught up in the late 1960s world of drugs, sex, and would-be revolution–while mysterious, deadly fires, timed according to the Biblical Book of Ezekiel, come striking ever nearer to him.

Ezekiel's vision, as re-visioned by Matthaeus Merian (1593-1650). "And I looked, and, behold, a stormy wind ... with a fire flashing up ... and out of the midst thereof as the colour of electrum, out of the midst of the fire" (Ezekiel 1:4, American Jewish Version, 1917)

Ezekiel's vision, as re-visioned by Matthaeus Merian (1593-1650). "And I looked, and, behold, a stormy wind ... with a fire flashing up ... and out of the midst thereof as the colour of electrum, out of the midst of the fire" (Ezekiel 1:4, American Jewish Version, 1917)

6.  Will your book or story be self-published or represented by an agency?

My agent is the incomparable Peter Steinberg.

7.  How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I tend to work on one project, leave it alone for a time while I’m working on another, and then come back to it after months or years.  I began writing an initial draft of Electrum in the spring of 2007, and stopped in the middle because I couldn’t see where the story was going.  Early in 2010 the fogs cleared and I started writing again from the beginning, with a complete draft finished in May of 2012.  Does this count as the “first draft”?  If so, the answer is: a shade over two years.

8.  What other book or stories would you compare this story to within the genre?

In using fiction to evoke the phantasmagoric atmosphere of 1968, with The War as malignant spectral presence, I see myself as doing something akin to John Updike’s Rabbit Redux and Nancy Peacock’s Life Without Water. (Or, for a different period, E.L. Doctorow’s Ragtime.)  Danny’s automobile trip from New York State to California, which dominates the second half of the novel, echoes Jack Kerouac’s On the Road; the theme of a long and uncertain journey with a dangerous companion reminds me of Yann Martel’s Life of Pi.  In the concern with the loss and (shaky) recovery of religious faith–shades of George Orwell’s A Clergyman’s Daughter and some of Updike’s early stories.  In its hearing of ancient Scriptural resonances in a troubled modern context, there’s a resemblance to Doctorow’s The Book of Daniel and Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses.

But the comparison that keeps coming to mind–oddly, perhaps, since The Color of Electrum is hardly juvenile or even YA literature–is with Treasure Island.  Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Jim Hawkins” goes on a quest that’s in part a search for the caretaking, guiding father he’s never had.  He returns, seasoned and a bit hardened, with a treasure of maturity that isn’t to be found in any pirate chest.  So, with all the necessary adjustments (sex, drugs, radical politics) factored in, does Danny Shapiro.

9.  Who or what inspired you to write this book or story?

In 1993, I published a monograph on the prophet Ezekiel, entitled Seeking Ezekiel: Text and Psychology.  The argument of the book was that Ezekiel was an extraordinarily gifted but tormented man, dominated by rage and dread of female sexuality.  I often wondered: what impact would Ezekiel have on a modern person who fell under the spell of his wild, stunning imagery?  I remembered how I had nearly died as a college sophomore, perhaps (if the Cornell Daily Sun article was to be trusted) at the hands of such a person–and at the same time I knew how susceptible I myself was to that spell.  I also remembered a theory advanced at the time of the fires by a friend of mine: that the arsonist intended the burnings to be a purge of the sexual “sin” in places like Watermargin or the residence hall, much as Ezekiel himself might have done.  And I asked that old novelist’s question: what if … ?

Originally I reached a dead end.  And then Peter Steinberg and I had lunch, and he encouraged me to write a sequel to Journal of a UFO Investigator, and I thought: maybe this is it.  And I introduced Danny Shapiro as the main character of Electrum, which originally he hadn’t been.  And this required me, because of Danny’s chronology in Journal of a UFO Investigator, to shift the date of the novel from 1967 to 1968.  I discovered then, to my astonishment, that the Martin Luther King assassination would have taken place the evening before the fire.  And then everything that I needed to do became clear.  And I can’t tell you anything more because it’ll be a spoiler.

The Rolling Stones, "Their Satanic Majesties Request" (1967)

The Rolling Stones, "Their Satanic Majesties Request" (1967)

10.  What else about the book or story might pique the reader’s interest?

Danny’s continuing innocence, even as he loses his virginity both figuratively and literally, and has one brush after another with violent death.  Also his belief in God, which flares and then dies–but can’t stay dead–as he watches Ezekiel’s prophecies play out in the 1968 American nightmare.

Shortly after meeting Danny, Annie Sharabi–drug dealer’s girlfriend, granddaughter of a Yemenite Kabbalist–proudly tells him she’s an atheist.

“I am too,” said Danny.  He took the pipe from her hand.  Their fingers touched lightly.

“No you’re not.”

Her certainty amused him; he burst out laughing.  She laughed too.  He took the deepest drag yet, held it until he thought he might pass out. … Around him he felt the music swelling, carrying him up with it.  And now there was Annie’s voice, singing along with the Rolling Stones: “‘She comes in colors everywhere, she combs her hair, she’s like a rai-i-i-nbow.’”

“‘Like the appearance of the bow in the cloud on the day of rain,’” Danny quoted from Ezekiel’s vision, “‘so was the appearance of the brightness round about.  This was the likeness of the glory of the Lord.  And when I saw it, I fell upon my face.’”

She smiled.  He grew dizzier, flew higher.  “Told you,” she said.

PREVIEWS OF COMING ATTRACTIONS:

Tuesday, January 15: Laine Cunningham, author of Message Stick and He Drinks Poison, posts on her novel Light and Purple Blooms. “Through a lifetime spent in devotion to church, husband, and the mainstream definition of a good life, Lana Crossfield has betrayed herself. After divorcing both her husband and her church, a pregnant woman she knows is murdered and the unborn fetus is cut from the womb. She must help a community of women survive this horrific betrayal.”  http://writersresourceblog.com/2013/01/15/the-next-big-thing/

Friday, February 1: Nancy Peacock, author of Life Without Water, Home Across the Road, and A Broom of One’s Own, posts on The Life and Times of Persimmon Wilson, a historical novel spanning 1860 to 1875, set in Louisiana and Texas.  http://nancypeacockbooks.com/wp/blog-hop/

Monday, February 4: Linda Hanley Finigan, author of Love and War, posts on her novel The Weight of the Heart.  “A party boat sinks on the Thames.  An extravagant birthday gala ends in disaster.  From the caterer and crew to the high society guests feting a wealthy plastic surgeon on the decks above, The Weight of the Heart weaves together an international cast of characters, grappling with the foibles of their lives in the course of an evening that will end in tragedy–Downton Abbey meets Ship of Fools at the end of the twentieth century.” http://loveandwar-novel.tumblr.com/post/42278512309/my-thanks-to-david-halperin-author-of-journal

Friday, March 29: Peggy Payne, author of Revelation and Sister India, posts on her about-to-be-published novel Cobalt Blue, “a turbulent gorgeous ride into sacred sex, compulsion, obsession, unmentionable attractions, and ultimate empowering redemption. ‘Cobalt Blue is entrancing and unsettling,’ says Angela Davis-Gardner, ‘a novel that gets at the marrow of sexual and spiritual experience.  Peggy Payne is one of our most gifted writers.’”  http://www.peggypayne.com/blog/?p=2384

Visit these writers’ blogs and comment!  Keep the circle moving!

Peanuts Comic – A Lesson From Sally Brown

For my birthday last November, my wife bought me a book called Peanuts Treasury, a collection of weekday and Sunday strips from Peanuts’ glory days.  I’ve read them all by now.  Yet I keep the book beside me, often when I eat, dipping into it and rereading at random.  It reminds me what an extraordinary, wonderful thing that comic strip once was.

Charles Schulz drew Peanuts for half a century, from 1950 practically up to his death in 2000.  The strip went through three phases.  It started as a conventional strip about cute, often smart-mouthed little kids—clever and amusing, but nothing out of the ordinary.  In the middle or late 1950s, it morphed somehow into a thing vast and profound, a brilliant, heartbreaking evocation of the angst and unbearable pain of existence.  (“I can’t stand it!” was Charlie Brown’s despairing refrain.)

So it remained through the 1960s.  Then the spirit died.  For the next thirty years Schulz tediously imitated himself, even while his characters—above all the obnoxious Snoopy—became international celebrities.  I stopped reading Peanuts; like Charlie Brown, I just couldn’t stand it.  Could I perhaps have enjoyed it as a modestly amusing kids’ strip once more, if I’d been able to forget its vanished years of splendor?  I’m not sure.

What accounts for that splendor?  What, even, was the “classic” Peanuts about?  The conventional answer was that it depicted children who talk, who act like grownups.  To which one critic replied: no, they’re still children—but children with all of Western culture as their mental equipment.  But that’s not quite true either.

Some years ago I came across a Sunday strip, I imagine from the late 1960s, that seems to me to encapsulate the secret of Peanuts.

Charlie Brown’s little sister Sally is jumping rope, blissfully smiling.  At one point she laughs out loud.  Then suddenly it all changes.  Her smile fades; she stands still; her jumprope drops.  She throws her head back and lets out a loud “WAAH!”

Linus comes running.  “What’s the matter, Sally?  What happened?  Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know …,” Sally says.  “I was jumping rope. … Everything was all right … when … I don’t know …”  And in the final frame:  “Suddenly it all seemed so futile!”

In those ten frames, Sally Brown is transformed from child to grownup.

To brood about the “futility” of this or that action, the very concept of “futility,” is alien to a child.  The child simply does, and the delight of the doing is sufficient.  That’s Sally at the beginning.  Her life’s meaning lies in its being.  Only when it dawns on her to ask for meaning, is she doomed to living without any meaning.  (For the question, “What is the meaning of life?” can’t possibly be answered.)  She’s cast out of Eden, by the fatal error of becoming conscious of its existence.

Is there a way back in?

This question is particularly relevant to those of us who call ourselves writers.  We have a lot to learn from Sally-at-the-beginning.  If we can write without any thought for what we achieve by doing so, only for that laugh-with-delight feeling of the child Sally skipping rope, then we’ve got a pretty good chance of finding happiness in our art.

Ask, “What’s the point?”, and we sink into futility.  Because mostly there is no point.  It’s just what our spiritual limbs demand we do, as Sally’s arms and legs demand she jump rope.

I wonder if that’s what Linus told her.