The Difference a Month Makes: Conclave in 2017

What a difference a few months make. Conclave was released in November 2016, before the political and cultural turmoil of the Trump presidency. I finished this book weeks into the tenure of the new U.S. President, and the politics of the Catholic Conclave struck me completely differently than they would have a scant month before.

Conclave sounded like such a great read: suspenseful, intriguing, and just fluff 'n trash enough to feed a craving. When I saw it on sale as I just happened to be strolling past the display, I thought it was kismet.

Imagine my surprise at finding myself bored early in the story.

A snap of excitement occurred as the story began with the death of the Pope (hopefully no spoiler alert was needed). Then author Robert Harris introduced so much expository information that was, frankly, tedious.

Harris takes readers inside the otherwise closed doors of this select society. Cardinal Jacopo Lomeli, Dean of the College of Cardinals, is riddled with guilt and susceptible to suspicion, and it is he whose tasks are conducted with mind-numbing detail.

To be fair, it's an accurate revelation of the tedium behind the beauty. The author faithfully shared details, facts, history, and trivia early in the book that, alas, dragged the momentum of the story to a crawl.While that may have been the point, I would have preferred a more balanced tapestry.

Thankfully, Harris softballed a few clues to reward faithful readers, starting with an unexpected range of international representation and a surprise contestant who slipped into the Conclave as the doors were closing to the world. (Well, almost closing: Lomeli stayed abreast of literally everything inside and outside of the Conclave, which seemed disingenuous to the spirit of the proceedings.)

The intrigue finally got intriguing as we met the international Conclave, the lead contenders of whom, in turn, revealed how they were less deserving than the next. These are the people with power in the Catholic Church: older, wealthy (mostly white) men with naked ambition they unsuccessfully concealed with faltering piety. Each had a sin ripe for exposure, and each was surprisingly similar to the rest (individual sensational sin aside). Each clique was power-hungry and clamoring for their seat at the right hand of the Father. No one was spared. Well, almost no one.

Only one character stood out, in the end: the perfect divergence from the parade of flawed men who all thought they deserved The Prize. That character, that antidote to Power, is the entire reason people should read this book.

The author completely lost me when he introduced the explosive ending that occurred outside the Conclave. Perhaps it was realistic, perhaps it was suitable for the world stage, but I am weary of what feels like the fallback position of every writer drawing "evil" with the same splotchy, faulty pen. Also, I was surprised the invisibility of women, except in certain circumstances, usually of servitude to the men — which may indicate more about the church than the author, but still struck me as antediluvian, even in context.

I cannot describe it with the same breathless praise of other critics whose reviews were published when the book was first published in November 2016. Perhaps that alone is praise enough: that the landscape in which I find myself is as merciless as the fictional world of power-hungry, flawed Catholic cardinals in Conclave.

Despite its flaws — maybe even because of them — I would recommend this book, if only to discuss it with other readers who may have a different perception than I.

The Great War in Fiction: The Innocents

The Great War was a huge game-changer. Modern warfare changed the landscape, literally: many of the terms in our current lexicon are thanks to the war, which we have the great misfortune of knowing now was the "first" world war.

It was unimaginable.

The Innocents goes a long way into making modern readers understand the horrors of this particular war.

Identical twins Iris and Dorthea had a difficult life. Their mother died at their birth, their father died during their childhood — so they were essentially "raised" by their (much) older brother in the opulent wealth of Eastern élite at the turn of the twentieth century. In his defense, he didn't really quite understand what it took to do that. Any mistakes were made out of ignorance, more so than intentional neglect.

Despite their privilege and opportunity, the women came to life when taking action during adversity. First, it was the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911, which was considered one of the worst disasters of New York City until the unfathomable horror that occurred early in the next century. Soon, their beloved France was deep in war, and America was poised on the brink. These women again wanted to make a difference, and the American Red Cross sent them to the French front to work as nurses. Never were they more focused than in the field hospital where, as les anges, they spoke quietly to the men who lived long enough to make it to their care, wiping fear and blood from soldiers' brows.

Even in the midst of war, they never totally escape their contemporaries, however, encountering acquaintances, not to mention at least one fighter pilot who could tell the difference between identical twins. In the madness of war, their lives were forever changed.

Author Caroline Seebohm's characters are recognizable, but not familiar. She may introduce the efficient hospital administrator, but there is no one quite like the efficient and calm Sister. Fighter pilots are never quite like Harry, a hero of Harvard's football field and hockey rink who took risks in the air much like he did on the ice.  Maurice starts out totally unassuming, but there's something about him that catches the attention of readers (and a certain identical twin). The rich, the vapid, the completely clueless Americans file past with names recognized in history and literature, adding credence to the twins' understanding of their life before the front.

Seebohm captures beautifully the horror and darkness of the Great War, the degradation of spirit as the days continue and the unimaginable unfolds before them. Each chapter has a date and location on it, so readers know where they are in history and watch the war — and life beyond the war — progress.

This is a worthy novel to join the genre that captures the loss of innocence the Great War brought about. Thanks to BBC dramas of this time period making their way across the pond, I hope more readers will seek Seebohm's bold and unflinching novel. It is worthy of their time.

NaNoWriMo: On the Other Side

November was a crazy month that included a lingering sinus infection, a major multi-day holiday, a friend's wedding, weird weather and my attempt at writing a novel.

Guess which one I liked the most? (No, you wise acres, not the sinus infection!)

National Novel Writing Month was an experience that reinforced what most productive writers understand: don't wait for "inspiration" — create it.  Every day, as I sit at the computer for work, I dredge up material for the assorted projects. Not everything that comes out of my brain and fingers is award-winning.  Some days are better than others. Some days I'm on fire and others I just show up and type materials that are "good enough." Some days the words are stellar and others it's just enough to get the job done.

The difference between a good day and a bad day: on a bad day, I don't even show up.  And that, my friends, is the definition of failure.

I'm not saying every bit of junk we produce needs to see the light of day.  In fact, I don't intend to show my "novel" to more than one or two souls.  However, I followed the objectives of the project established by NaNoWriMo and managed to succeed. I created a document totaling 50, 202 words between November 1-30.

Why?

Well, why not?

On November 1, I scratched my head and wondered exactly what in the world I was going to write — until I remembered: The Foreigner!  Well, I didn't remember it by name, but I remembered the play description. The play is about a shy man who pretends to not know English on a cruise full of English-speaking people.  What other situations can create opportunities for people to share information, confess, reveal or otherwise communicate?

I came up with one. It involved The Cowboy.

Not every word was stellar.  In fact, much of it probably was contrived, and possibly impossible to read.  The chapters that feature The Cowboy, however, were ingenious, if I dare say so myself.  There may be a story in there somewhere, or bits of one, or even a short story that can be edited and re-purposed.  Maybe. I won't make any promises.  I wrote many, many pages of words, and some of those words (beyond articles and conjunctions) may be of use at some point in the future. But really, I don't care. What I do care is that I know I can do something like that, possibly even better, in the future. All it takes is the precious commodity of time — which, for the story burning in me is a small price to pay.

Thanks, NaNoWriMo.  If I can pull it off again next year, maybe I'll even come up with a story and outline in October.

And the rest of you: what are you waiting for? You can wait until next November — or you can start now to warm up for the next one. I think I'll choose the latter.  Let me know which you choose.

Tower of London in Fiction

Imagine living in the Tower of London as a Beefeater, a member of the military who has overseen the Tower for centuries.  You'd think it would be exotic and exciting, wouldn't you?

So, I imagine, did Balthazar and Hebe.  

However, what they got was much different than they expected.  (It always is.)

In The Tower, The Zoo, and The Tortoise, author Julia Stuart creates a unique world in which these two people live, with their hurt and anguish, their hopes and dreams — and a tortoise that saw the reign of Queen Victoria.

First of all, do not read the book jacket.  Don't remove it because the illustration is just fun and lovely to see every time you pick up the book.  However, resist the urge to see what the publisher wants you to see on the inside flaps: it will spoil some of the fun.

The best part of the novel isn't the story, which is absolutely incredible, intense, surprising and entertaining.  For me, it was spending time with Balthazar and Hebe — not to mention Amanda and Arthur, Septimus, Rudy and the bearded pig.  Oh, and the albatross.  Mrs. Cook was nice enough, and she certainly rounds out the story.  So much happens in this book, one doesn't know where to start.  

Balthazar collects rain.  Septimus wants rats dead.  Ruby is the reason Monopoly was banned in the pub.  Spaniards can't all be trusted.  Pomegranate wood is rarely used, but quite beautiful.  Round walls are impossible to hang pictures on.  Moats keep things in, as well as out.  And tourists all secretly hope for blood and guts, no matter how pious they try to be.

In Stuart's world, that all makes sense.  She has the way of weaving a story that doesn't tell it all at once.  Readers must finish the book to discover what happened that fateful day, and it is not really what you expect.  Fact is woven into the fiction, so you're not really sure if the Dutch would — well, we might not have learned it had Amanda not by chance thought of herself while walking past the safe.

In the end, Mrs. Cook surprises you and you weep with the Joneses, while you secretly think the Ravenmaster is ravin' something.  You'll look up the history of Queen Anne's owl just as quickly as you would research Queen Anne.  You realize the story will unfold in tantalizing ways and you'll want to read it again just to relive the good parts — and you will realize it's all good.