Local Corpses are Best

When I go somewhere I’ve never been, I like to find a bookstore and ask if they have any murder mysteries set there. It is a bonus if the author is also local, but it is how local the murder and associated events are that matters most to me. I tried this first in Alaska in 2004. That is the way I got reconnected with grad school friend Sue Henry and her first book, Murder on the Iditarod Trail, became my introduction to Alaska.


And I’ve been doing it ever since. Last week, Bette and I were in the San Juan Islands, in Washington. We hit a bookstore the first day and got the name Sharon Duncan. The next day we found a copy of Death on a Casual Friday at a used bookstore.

This is a really easy way to get accustomed to local landmarks, customs, attitudes, and institutions. It is particularly easy if the book is a good book in its own right. I think Sue Henry might have spoiled me in that regard. Sharon Duncan is no Sue Henry. If is not a particularly good book, it still might be an excellent introduction to the area, but now it requires a more focused treatment.

I call it “strategic reading,” but by that term, I only mean reading the book in the way that best meets my needs, rather than in the way it was written to be read. The whole middle section of Duncan’s book, for instance, takes place in California. That is necessary for the plot to develop as she wants it to develop, but it doesn’t do anything for my interest in the geography and local cuisine of Friday Harbor. So I paged through it fast enough to make sure I knew where the plot was headed. I think the designation on my VCR would have been about 4X fast forward. Probably.

She comes back home to San Juan Island for a final showdown with the bad guy(s). At that point, I slow down again. She is dodging around the island on roads Bette and I drove on with somewhat less speed and a good deal less urgency. All turns out well for Scotia MacKinnon, the tough but feminine but haphazard but insightful heroine.

It turned out well for me, too. With about an hour and a half invested in finishing the book, I had time left over to go out and explore a little of Friday Harbor. Beautiful place, Friday Harbor. Except that the whole downtown area gets to hear the partying at Herb’s Tavern (10 Front Street) from about midnight until about 2:00 a.m.

Ms. Duncan might have mentioned that, but she didn’t. And Scotia MacKinnon never went there either, so how were we to know?

Choking

“Choking” is a really bad habit if you ever want to win the Masters. Those little three foot puts that you can put in the cup 999 times out of a thousand—they rim out or stop short. It makes you feel bad that you missed the shot, but you feel a lot worse because you can’t escape the feeling that you were the weak link. The ball was good, the green was good, the putter was good; the bad part was you. You choked.

That’s a bad thing, no doubt about it, but let me offer another line of work by contrast. I’m thinking of gunfighting. You choke there and you won’t have to worry about the Masters next year or the press coverage this year. For the last couple of days, I have been reading Blue-eyed Devil, by Robert Parker. Virgil Cole (Ed Harris) is the principal gunslinger in these books and his deputy, Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen), is the narrator. Here’s his assessment of Virgil’s state of mind at the crucial moment. "Virgil was in the place he goes when it might be time to shoot. Everything registered and nothing mattered." That sounds just perfect to me. If Virgil golfed, I’ll bet he would be a superb putter.

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It turns out that a lot of work has been done on the choking phenomenon. Today’s (June 13) New York Times reviewed the work of Sian Bielock at the University of Chicago. It won’t surprise any of you, I imagine, that it is the activity in the prefrontal cortex that causes the problem. When you get to thinking too much about an activity that you can do well only without thinking about it, it’s the prefrontal cortex you are using. Well, overusing.

Bielock says that are ways to train yourself not to overthink. She says you can train your brain to react more productively. You can give it something else to do, just to keep it busy and out of your way. You can practice under pressure. You can act promptly, rather than delaying and analyzing too much.

But I think Virgil has it right. There is a place you can go when you might need to shoot. It’s quiet there. You are aware of everything, but you really don’t care all that much.

Playing the Enemy

I just finished reading the part of Playing the Enemy I was interested in. My librarian wife shook her head sadly, more from force of habit than from any real grief. I was so delighted by the movie, Invictus, and it wasn't until the second viewing that I noticed it was based on a book by John Carlin. But the book really is bigger than the movie. There is a great deal in it about Nelson Mandela's courtship of his jailers, and his political opponents, and the South African Rugby Association.

The next time I read this book, I will probably start at the beginning and read it all. If I do, it will be because that new material is now the material I am in contact with. I can presume the World Cup of 1995, which is when the South African rugby team "played the enemy" and go on to the new material that is now right next door. Had I begun at the beginning, it would have been two doors away—too far-- and I probably would not have finished the book.

I recommend this book to anyone who is seriously interested in reconciliation in any larger social setting. If the leadership of my church, for instance, were to stop whatever it is doing and read this book--just the part about the game--they would return to their work with a renewed sense of what is possible and what is might cost. Worse things could happen.