Gauging the POV depth, plus a funny cat picture

Title: Zero Day

Author: David Baldacci

Progress: 100%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #4 (debuted at number 1)

Book 5 out of 107

Back after a few days off  for Thanksgiving with the family. With all the flying, I was able to finish off Zero Day. Nice job, Mr. Baldacci. I had a hard time putting it down. I eventually did, because reading at the Thanksgiving table would have been rude, but it was tempting to just keep on reading in between passing the stuffing and green bean casserole.

There are lots of things to learn from Zero Day, but as I'm anxious to get into the next book, I'll deal with just two.

I don't like riding in cars and I don't come when called. David Baldacci is now on my list,
and you don't want to be on Angry Cat's list.

First, (SPOILER ALERT!) at the end of the book, our hero Jack Reacher hits the road after a long, difficult case. He needs some downtime. He decides to go for a long drive. So he packs up his cat, named AWOL, and hits the road.

The cat sits peacefully in the backseat. The cat, at a gas station, leaves the car, goes somewhere to do his business, and then returns to the car with no coaxing.

As the owner of many cats, I can safely say that Mr. Baldacci has never owned or spent time around felines. They don't ride peacefully in the back seats of cars. Instead, they howl, meow and cry, detesting everything about the experience of being transported in a big, loud, stinky machine. I believe they consider it undignified.

Also, they do not, ever, ever, behave as dogs would behave. They don't come when called. They don't take care of business on a handy piece of grass and return to their vehicles. A cat set free, especially after a long car ride, is not going to obediently jump back into the back seat when finished. That cat will either run away or find something to hide under where he can watch you as he curses the day you were born.

This lack of cat knowledge is surprising because everything else in Zero Day is researched to within an inch of its life. I'm fairly certain I could build a decent nuclear bomb after taking in the last 50 pages where we get a detailed yet clear explanation of how such a bomb could be made.

The second thing, and this I think is the more interesting lesson, is about what I'll call the POV Depth Level, or POVDL.

As I think I made that term up, I get to define it. Let's go with... The depth that an author chooses to go into the the thinking of a character.

With the books I've read so far, the POVDL is quite high, more on the surface. In the thriller genre, the rule seems to be to reveal no thinking that doesn't immediately concern the plot. If it doesn't move the story forward, it doesn't hit the page.

Sure, sometimes we get a wise crack or quick observation about an attractive female (I've encountered nothing but male protagonists so far), but otherwise the hero's thinking is devoted almost exclusively to the case at hand as he reasons through the clues and plans out next steps.

In Shock Wave, the POVDL is so high I had a hard time getting into the head of the character and relating to him. Because of that, the book didn't grab me by the throat and make me care.

Not so with Zero Day. Jack Reacher became a real person to me. I think I could recognize him if I saw him on the street. I know a good bit of his likes and dislikes, how he treats people, what motivates him, and what scares him. I like him and  care about him. If he had died at the end of the book, which considering the situation was quite likely, I would have been angry. I'm looking forward to spending more time with him.

Having said all that, we don't actually get too deep into his thoughts. We get enough to make him come to life, but we get only a rare few bits that aren't related to solving the murders and tracking down a potential terrorist cell.  

Yet there were some perfect opportunities to get more into his thoughts. He is clearly attracted to the tough yet beautiful sheriff, Sam (short for Samantha), and aside from one admiring glance, we don't get to hear his internal monologue about what he really thinks about her, what he finds attractive about her, what he thinks of her eyes, her legs, or anything else about her.

In another section, he interviews a suspect who was kicked out of the Army due to the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy. Reacher tells the guy, "DADT was bullshit," but we don't get to know if he actually thinks that. What does he think about gays serving the military? It would be interesting to know as he had completed six tours of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq and has the medals and scares to prove it.

I liked Zero Day a lot, and I think it is an excellent example of a competent, entertaining thriller. 

I do wonder if it would have been more entertaining, and more effective, if Mr. Baldacci had moved a bit deeper into the POVDL of Reacher. I'm not asking for Franzen-level of introspection (but I do wonder what a Franzen-written thriller would be like). I'm asking for these thrillers I've assigned myself to read to give me a little something more than a few thrills that fade away as soon as I'm done reading.

Mr. Baldacci did give me a character I will remember for a long time, and am looking forward to meeting again. Here's hoping I get to know him a little better next time around.

What did we learn? I'm not sure. We did explore a bit my theory that the thriller genre could benefit from a deeper POVDL. Not sure I'm right about that. I'm hoping to find the book that proves the theory soon.

Next up, Stephen King's 11/22/63. I know, it's not technically a crime thriller, but it does feature a notable crime, people do get shot, and there are thrills. I'm stretching the rules a bit. I have a feeling there is a lot to learn in that one. Four and a half stars on Amazon so far. That is tough to do. 

Baldacci right on time with Zero Hour

Title: Zero Day

Author: David Baldacci

Progress: 25%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #4 (debuted at number 1)

Book 5 out of 107

In case you were wondering, here is how I'm choosing books for this project...

As soon as I finish a book, a go to the New York Times Bestseller's list for combined print and E-book fiction. The next book will be the highest on that list that falls within the broad range of crime thriller or mystery. I'm going for real world settings, no sci-fi or fantasy, though I love them both. 

I am looking for the best, or at least the most popular, books that have someone getting murdered in an early chapter. Or, as in the case of The Litigators, a clear conflict that will be resolved after several chapters of building tension.

I'm now on book 5, and now I have a few more rules.

I'm going to write a post at every quarter mark (25%, 50%, 75% and 100%), so I'll be posting a little less so I can read more. 

Those particular marks are good stopping points because thriller writers seem to outline based on those marks. The stories I've read so far all take important turns at the quarter marks, and I think that's by design.

Let's talk about outlining for a minute...

Stephen King says he doesn't write  with an outline, and he probably doesn't need to. He is writing epics. His books stretch for a thousand pages or more and have lives of their own, obeying their own rules of fiction, rules that Mr. King seems to make up as he goes along. He's like a jazz musician, playing within a certain key and construct, and then improvising as wildly and energetically as he can.

Thriller writer can't do that. These stories must be tight, effective, and deliver satisfaction in about 300 pages. Tom Clancy got away with some fat books, but everyone else in the genre keeps it tight. It's what the fans want. And when your publisher wants a book a year, I would guess tightly outlining is the way to go.

In my own experience of starting and abandoning novel projects, I used to be anti-outline, because I was too cool for that, too much of an artiste. Then I switched to screenplays, which have a lot rules, including a three act structure that every reader looks for. 

At first, I kind of hating all those screenwriting rules, which seemed so limiting, like the writer was reduced to changing a few variables in a formula, as opposed to creating something fresh.

You know what didn't happen when I writing screenplays? Writers block. Why? I had an outline. I had a plan. I knew where to go. I didn't always know how I would get there, but having a landmark to reach made writing so much easier.

On this novel I'm currently working on, I've got an outline l like a lot. I've got some big scenes that I think will work. I've got a finale I love. All those ideas came into existence because is started with an outline. 

An outline is a compass. It's a guide, nothing more. It's a tool, not a pair of handcuffs.

Getting back to Zero Day...

Holy shit. David Baldacci can write. This is the best book I've read so far as part of this project.

Here is what Mr. Baldacci does that I really like...

1. Killer opening that immediately establishes the mystery. A mailman discovers a murder scene that sends him running out of the house puking. We don't get to see inside the house, but we know that what is in their is horrible. The mailman puke on the lawn is proof.

2. Disciplined devotion to the main character, John Reacher. We stay almost exclusively in his point of view, and the only time we leave it is when another character has something to think about Reacher. This character is becoming real to me in a way that the other books I've read couldn't pull off. I am not saying this is a character-driven book. It is flying forward with great momentum, dropping plot twists at the end of every chapter, increasing the body count at disturbing rate. Even with all that action, Reacher to growing to be a fully realized, detailed and complex character.

3. Supporting characters get some love. When a supporting character takes the stage, Mr. Baldacci gives them a little something to bring them to life. He gives them each a little more description and dialogue than other authors will allow. This creates a richness to the world without slowing the story down. Also, because we are always in Reacher's POV, we are getting his views on these new people, so not only are we getting to know new characters, but are also learning more about how Reacher thinks. It's a great trick.

What have we learned? A lot. There is a lot to learn from Mr. Baldacci.

The rule remains true, in life and in writing

Title: The Litigators

Author: John Grisham

Progress: 100% done!

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #1 (debuted at number 1)

Book 4 out of 107

As in math, chemistry, and physics,  the rule of consistency holds true for writing. If it worked before, it will work again.

The proof is the fight at the end of every Rocky movie. No matter how bad the that particular edition is (Rocky V, good god, the badness), the fight at the end is always effective, always gets your blood pumping, makes you clench your fists and take a few jabs at the air.

Even in the worst Rocky movies, the fight scenes always work. Same thing with Grisham courtroom scenes.
Was Rocky V the worst Rocky movie? Or the best of the sequels? Discuss.

Same thing with The Litigators. This is a book that was working for me up to the 75% mark. Then comes the court room battle, the fight, and suddenly I am all in.

Our hero David, completely outmatched by his opponent, totally abandoned by his partners, without the benefit of one fact in his favor, puts up a decent fight, and it glorious.

The court scenes are terrifically put together, and again, very much like a boxing match. In the opening rounds, David gets pummeled, and he takes the beating, doing what he can to stay in the ring. His offense doesn't exist. He has a quack doctor who barely speaks English and a pharmacology expert who flees the courthouse when called to testify.

David looks done, thoroughly defeated. Then, almost as if he had a brilliant plan to lull the opposition into a false sense of security, he strikes. He goes after the head scientist for the evil drug corporation like Rocky raining down left hooks on Mr. T.

Those scenes made hard not to cheer out loud. 

Despite the fact that David wasn't all the sympathetic, and that the lawsuit was bullshit, you root for the guy. He's the underdog and it seems even when the underdog is wrong, you still want him to win. How about that?

What did we learn? The end of Rocky always works, and that readers will root for even a flawed underdog.

John Grisham versus Rocky

Title: The Litigators

Author: John Grisham

Progress: 75%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #1 (debuted at number 1)

Book 4 out of 107

This is how The Litigators works...


It is of the "legal thriller" genre, though this book is more legal than thrilling, flirting with the comic more than the dangerous. There are a few gunshots, but they don’t amount to much.

It is not a mystery. There is nothing to figure out. The compelling questions are answered almost as soon as they are asked.

It is not about the fight for justice or for truth, where an outmatched lawyer takes on a hopeless but worthy case and wins in the end, gets an innocent man off of death row, or wins millions for a town poisoned by the local chemical company.  

This book is more about the fight. It’s a kind of like Rocky but with guys in expensive suits talking about briefs and occasionally filing motions. There is a lot of motion filing.

Let’s break this story down...

"I'm gonna file a motion to bust you up."
"Go for it, but but first please stick this motion of summary judgment up your ass."
"I object!"
"I object to your breath."

Act 1: We meet the fighters, the good guys and the bad guys, the two sides that will end up in the ring punching it out. We get to know them, understand their motivations, look over their strengths and weaknesses, and figure out if we want to root for them or not.

Act 2: Fight preparation. Challenges are issued. Battle lines are drawn. The rules of engagement become clear. Each side marshals its forces, preparing for the first contact with the enemy. By the end of Act 2, the fight has been scheduled, the trial date set, the war declared.

Act 3: Training. Our hero gets in shape, often using unconventional means. (Remember Rocky chasing that chicken around a Philadelphia alley?) During this act, the villain becomes seemingly unbeatable, growing in power, becoming as fearsome as 1989’s Mile Tyson, as opposed to the comedic actor with the face tattoo we have in 2011.

During this act, the hero, during his intense training, will often get bad news, distracting him from his task. He will also be told by someone who knows a few things: “You can’t win. You’re doomed.”

That’s as far as I’ve got with The Litigators. I’m 75% done and heading into Act 4.

Here’s the problem…Rocky is an effective story because you like Rocky as soon as he shows up on the screen. He takes care of pigeons. He likes turtles. He’s got a shitty job but he’s dreaming big. If he was a douche for 75% of the movie, you’d root for Apollo Creed to bash his head in.

Our heroes in The Litigators are not Rocky. They lie, cheat and steal. They are motivated by greed. They will happily increase a client's misery if it will increase the firm's profits. They don't really care if they have truth on their side. They just want to get rich.

The one protagonist with some redeeming qualities, David, goes along for the ride, all the while knowing what his firm is doing with their bogus lawsuit concerning a cholesterol drug that is benefiting millions of patients.

It seems like Mr. Grisham, or maybe one of his editors, knew that a sympathy problem was developing. The idea isn’t to make the reader root for the giant, evil corporation, and yet, we readers come close to doing just that.

So, right in the middle of the book, a hero-making storyline is crowbarred in between the bad people performing bad lawyering. David takes on cases representing abused workers and a poor little boy brain damaged from chewing on a lead covered toy. These cases, noble as they are, feel tacked on and out of context. Perhaps they were notes from another book that Mr. Grisham cut and pasted from. Whatever the case, there is a clear need in to improve David’s character, so we readers could actually have a character to work for.

In any case, it feels patchwork, contrived and manipulative.

On the other hand, without those subplot bandages, I wouldn’t give a flying flaming duck poop about Wally and Oscar winning their case against the giant drug company who made a good drug and is getting sued by these two wastes of court room space.

Almost despite myself, I’m intrigued by what will happen at trial. Now that we are finally at fight day, I’m ready for some action. We’ve got the seasoned, well paid professionals up against our scrappy, desperate, inexperienced journeyman who have rarely argued in front of a judge.

So bring on Act 4. Will they win, like Rocky 2? Or just go the distance, like the superior Rocky 1?

 

What have we learned? Having a big fight between two interesting combatants at the end of your story is good, and having a hero people love in one corner, a villain to hate in the other, is better.

Maybe Aristotle had it wrong

Title: The Litigators

Author: John Grisham

Progress: 50%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #1 (debuted at number 1)

Book 4 out of 107

The surprising yet the inevitable. That’s what we are supposed to to do. We are supposed to surprise out audiences, shock them, make them see something they didn’t expect to see, feel something they didn’t see coming.

That’s what Aristotle said anyway. Maybe he was wrong. You look at The Litigators at the top of the best seller lists, and you have to think maybe A-dog was drinking a little too much of that sweet, sweet Greek wine.

Aristotle said that dramatic action should strive be completely surprising yet seemingly inevitable. He also said men had more teeth than women, and apparently didn't take the time to actually count. So, what the hell did he know anyway?

Here’s the thing about The Litigators. So far, every character has behaved exactly according to the script of a stereotype. They have done exactly as expected, said everything you would have expected them to say. Even supporting characters seem taken from some big book of handy stereotypes. And in fact, some of these stereotype I find insulting.

Here’s the run down…

Wally, the greedy street lawyer who literally chases ambulances and was born almost completely without scruples.

Rochelle, who is black (as Mr. Grisham points out), the lazy, cantankerous, office manager who complains as soon as there is extra work to be done.

DeeAnna, the sexy golddigger who is clearly having sex with Wally because she thinks he might come into money thanks to the big lawsuit against a popular cholesterol drug.

The gang of black men (Mr. Grisham points out their blackness) who surround an expensive car and acting in a threatening way until chased off at gun point.

And there is David, our hero, the stressed out, over worked legal drone who broke away from the big, hellish law firm to join up with the low rent law shop that makes barely enough to stay open. David is a lawyer with a heart, who just might do the right thing one day, in the face of long odds and big temptations.

The list could go on. Every character we meet is predicable, straight out of central casting, spouting exactly the lines you expect them to say.  

This book is like someone cut pasted characters and scenes from other Grisham novels to make a new novel that is almost parody like to pointing out the weakness of all his earlier books without borrowing any of their strengths.

In a good book, including some of Mr. Grishom’s, a character will do something quite surprising, make a decision you weren’t expecting, and spin the story in a new direction. When done well, that unexpected decision will also make perfect sense, will seem to fit well within that character’s make up, and somehow seem quite logical. And yet, we never saw it coming.

That’s the way character’s come alive.

For instance, when Lisbeth sleeps with Mikael in The Girl With The Drgaon Tattoo, it seems to come out of the blue, pleasantly shocking Mikael and we readers. Even more surprising, revealing and funny was how once she was finished with him, she hoped off and went to bed without a thought. Great scene, surprising, but also perfectly believable.

Lisbeth has a hard time with relationships, empathy, simple human communications. She likes Mikael, she has a physical need, and he can ease that need. In her mind, the equation is simple and she does she sees as the logical thing without ever considering what Mikael might need or want. That’s typical of her major character flaw and it takes three books for her to figure that out, and even then, doesn’t quite come to terms with it.

That kind of revelatory scenes isn’t going to be happening in The Litigators. Sad to say. But here’s hoping I’m wrong.

What have we learned? Entertainment needs surprise, and I find myself supremely unsurprised with The Litigators.

Overpopulation strikes! Causes thin characters

Title: The Litigators

Author: John Grisham

Progress: 20%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #1 (debuted at number 1)

Book 4 out of 107

So many characters! Oscar, Wally, Rochelle, David, AC, the bartender, the billionaire old lady, the evil boss, David's wife, they are all running around the first nine chapters of The Litigators and I am having a hard time keeping track of who is who, what they look like and what they want.

It's like Mr. Grisham decided to clear out every character sketch he happened to have in his journal and dumped them into this book. 

The result is a lot of stops and starts in the first quarter, quite a few backstory segments, and then a lot of trying to remember the difference between some of the characters, especially Wally and Oscar.

About this many people are introduced in the first nine chapters of The Litigators

Things start off fantastically. We get a lovely character sketch of two lawyers struggling to keep their ambulance chasing shop open. One guy is neat, one is a slob. One guy is organized, steady, yet lazy. The other guy is scattered,  prone to wild mood swings, and aggressively ambitious. One is named Oscar, one is named Wally.

I kept getting them confused until I noted that Oscar is the neat one, which is the opposite of the Oscar in The Odd Couple.

The book bounces back and forth between the schyster duo and David Zinc, a young lawyer with a Harvard degree who freaks outs from all the pressure of working at a big firm and decides to chuck it all. He goes on an entertaining bender at a local bar and as fate would have it, winds up at the low rent law firm and ends up working there.

Is it entertaining so far? Yes! But it's like two Grisham books have been cut and pasted into each other. David all by himself would make a good book about the horrors of working for a big firm, the 16 hours days, the angry boss, the strained marriage. Awesome. Let's have a book about that.

Or, let's have a book about the hustling, scrappy, bottom-feeding lawyers that plaster their faces on in billboards and bus stop. Mr. Grisham seems to know that world well, as the scenes where Wally is chasing business in funeral homes and hospitals are filled with the kind of detail only research can provide.

As soon as we get into one of these stories, we shift to the other one and have to re-adjust, remind ourselves who is who, and get back into it.

To me, it seems like the whole thing would work better with fewer characters, with fewer three page backstory descriptions, and with fewer names to remember.

I like the idea of a high-priced lawyer working down in the muck of a swamp firm. But that swamp firm could have one partner, not two, and the secretary could be a minor background character, not someone whose life history gets five pages.

That is my advice to Mr. Grisham, who could surely use my advice, him being one of the most successful authors in history, and me with a 125 Twitter followers.

What have we learned? I think we've learned that too many character too soon and clutter your opening chapters and hurt your narrative flow. I also think this story would be more interesting told from one point of view, instead of the shifting between five characters.

I'm also looking forward to reading more. This is a good read, funnier than expected for a Grisham.

It is yet unclear if she was a lesbian, but we can guess...

Title: The Litigators

Author: John Grisham

Progress: 10%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #1 (debuted at number 1)

Book 4 out of 107

Have you ever read The Firm? Did you read it when it first came out in 1991?

It was one of those books, the ones that people take delight in giving to other people, in saying, "You just have to read this."

I remember the moment quite well. I was in the Air Force and Master Sergeant Pat Samuelson, who was my boss at the time and was probably a lesbian (before the days of don't ask don't tell, these were the days of pretend you are straight or get court martialed), handed me a hardback book with a cover design of green marble and gold letters that said, "The Firm." 

"You just have to read this," she said. We traded books on occasion. She was partial to mysteries, bought them by the arm load at a musty old used bookstore when she wasn't camping in the woods with her best friend, a woman by the name of Marly who no one in the office had ever met. Some thought Marly might have been an imaginary friend even thought Marly knitted, made homemade granola and liked dogs more than cats. 

Anyway...

I read that book in a night, ripped right through it, and then started over again as soon as I was done, just to see how John Grisham had done it, how he made mesmerized me so and wrecked my sleep.

I've read it three or four times since then (1991 was 20 years ago? Wow. Time does fly), and it still strikes me as the perfect example of commercial fiction. The perfect hero, relatable, understandable, admirable in ways, makes a big mistake, then redeems himself. The perfect bad guy, law firm that satan-like makes what seems like a great deal with our hero, full of the promise of riches, and only later is his soul forfeit, after it's almost too late. Our hero, through bravery and smarts, defeats the firm of Satan and Satan in the most satisfying of ways.

Since then, Mr. Grishom has written 26 books,and I've read most of them. Some are great, some not so great. But you know what? None of them are bad. Not one.

Here we are, 20 years later (unbelievable!) and Mr. Grisham has given me yet another book. He's become hugely wealthy, world famous, and a generous giver to charities. I work for a big corporation and do all right, but am not yet world famous. We both look two decades older. I have a lot less hair. He has a little less hair.

Before I talk about his new book, The Litigators, in my little project, let me say this to anyone who reads this and wants to be a writer. Go read The Firm. Then thank me. And then thank Mr. Grisham. 

That book is a masterpiece. Book critics can have all the almost endless sentences and unlikeable characters and depressing themes and post-modern horseshit they want. Few tales are told better than the one in The Firm.

I'll talk about The Litigators tomorrow.  

Can't we do better than this?

Title: Shock Wave

Author: John Sanford

Progress: 100%

Platform: Kindle

Amazon Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

NYT BS Hardcover List: #8 (former number 1)

Book 3 out of 107

Look. I'm not a book snob. I like genre novels. I like detective stories and sci-fi and fantasy and pretty much any kind of well told story other than romance. Even then, The Bridges of Madison County made me blubber like a school girl.

But I have to say ... Shock Wave, despite its sales and it's 4.5 Amazon stars, is mediocre at best.

I liked Virgil, or at least the idea of Virgil, the long-haired hippy detective who favors vintage T-shirts and likes to go fishing as part of his mystery solving process.

However, Virgil never comes alive. I never get a sense of how his worldview affects his detecting, his relationships, or how he's changed by dealing with this crazy bomber who keeps blowing up completely innocent people. And after Virgil, almost all the characters kind of blur together. Many of the men have a way with absurd metaphors and wise cracks. The women are all sexy and vaguely smitten with Virgil.

A novel, even a genre novel, should be just a little more than this. Shouldn't it?

Mr. Sanford is a good writer. He comes so close at times to getting at something deeper, something funnier, something more exciting. Every time he comes close to a real moment, to a real surprise, he backs away. 

Virgil never makes a surprising choice, not one. Virgil ponders god before he sleeps, but despite the fact that people are dying at a disturbing rate, it doesn't seem to phase him or color his chats with whatever deity he thinks is listening.

And by the way, Virgil gets a guy killed. He mistakenly fingers Wyatt as a suspect and the bomber kills him in an effort to get the case closed. Virgil doesn't seem to care, never gives it a second thought. His last thoughts in the book are about the three women he recently met and whom he didn't bang.

I'm sure this book took a lot of effort to write. For all I know it took a year of labor, of re-writing, editing, of getting feedback, of polishing and then more re-writing. Mr Sanford created an mildly entertaining novel, and it reads like he did it with ease. That's the problem. It feels easy. Once read, it leaves nothing behind, leaves no mark on the mind. 

When I want that kind of cotton candy, no-substance entertainment, I can watch TV. There is an episode of Law & Order on somewhere pretty much 24 hours a day. From a novel, I want just a little bit more. I hope my next one delivers that little bit more. 

Now cracking open the new John Grisham, The Litigators.