The Wounded Auto

Apropos of Annamaria's encounter with an evil New Jersey driver on Wednesday, I was moved to meditate on the bumps and dings my little Corolla has collected over the past few years. Some have been fixed, and some are still decorating it, like cunning dimples on its bird-doo dappled skin. But none of them came from driving in New York City. Nothing could induce me to drive it in New York City. I will drive through Hartford sometimes, because you have to. I’ve been known to make my way from one end of Philadelphia to another behind the wheel of a car, cursing and trembling the whole way. Once I tried to drive in Pittsburgh with the aid of a spiteful, ignorant GPS, which sent me down a funnel-like construction site until I could go no further. But I never drive in Gotham. I plan to take public transportation to Annamaria's launch party next Tuesday for Strange Gods.

Curiously, most if not all of the bumps and dings on my car happened while it was stock still, parked in front of my house, with nobody in it. The first hit came from an ornamental pear tree, since deceased. Harold and I were sitting on our porch, watching a storm come in, when a sudden gust of wind tore a big leafy limb right off the pear tree and threw it on the car. It was a huge limb, almost half the tree, but luckily the heaviest part didn't fall right on the car. Harold got in and drove out from under the tree limb with a strange scraping sound like fingernails on a blackboard. The damage, luckily, was minimal, consisting mostly of crinkles and dimples on the roof of the car. They're still there.

Then there was the construction truck that sideswiped the car, again, parked, when they were leaving after finishing some work at the neighbors' house. A minor blemish, I would have said, but the body work estimate came in at $1,300. We got the check from the construction company's insurance people some months later, coincidentally the same day that a bill came from my dentist for roughly the same amount. The car is still dented, but, hey, my teeth look great.

A few weeks ago it happened again. Someone sideswiped my car while bumping and grinding out of a parking place. Our plumber saw the whole thing and took down the plate number of the miscreant, who left the scene. Harold called the Lambertville police. Officer O'Rourke arrived to write up the report. He gave me his business card in case there were any questions, and I tucked it into the plastic sleeve along with the registration and insurance card.

This was the very plastic sleeve I presented to the officer who stopped me on Route 29 after the New York MWA meeting, when I was creeping along at twenty-seven miles an hour to keep from hitting midnight deer and hobgoblins. He seemed quite surprised to find the officer's card there. "How do you know Michael O'Rourke?" I had the feeling he expected me to say something interesting, but since I try never to say anything interesting to officers of the law, I told him the boring story I just told you. He seemed satisfied, and let me go with a warning not to drive so slowly. Any day now I'll go down and get a copy of the police report, file an insurance claim, and actually get the dent fixed. Probably. I do wonder whether there's some way I could use Officer O'Rourke's card for some unfair personal advantage.

© 2014 Kate Gallison

A Jersey Driver Stole My Homework

No apologies for my slur agains NJ:  I was born and brought up there.  I learned to drive there.  So don't get on my case for what I am about to say.

My husband always referred to Jersey drivers as "the yellow peril," which used to be a pejorative for one our the USA's major enemies in World War II.  Now it refers to the color of the license plates on the cars being driven by people who just do NOT know how to drive in New York City.

I used to attribute the problem to the fact that in NJ drivers take their "road test" on an isolated driving course, and not in actual real-life traffic, as New York State residents do.  At least that's the way it was when I took my road test a millennium ago.

So there I was, stopped for a red light, having just come through the Lincoln Tunnel, thinking of the fact that I had three hours before dinner--plenty of time to write my blog for today.  No problem.  And then--

 BUMP

He just banged into the back of my car.

I remained calm.  I got out so I could see the damage and waived him over to the curb.  He wife was yelling at him.  He was looking at her, not me.  Eventually I got his attention.  This little incident has consumed enough time for me to have written 2.7846 blogs.  I offer you these photos in lieu of what I would have otherwise said.  I had planned to write about the Sicilian Vespers--a night in 1200-and-something, when people of my ethnic ilk slit the throats of people who were in the territory when they didn't belong there.  (This is the EXACT truth.)

What he did to my car.  The foot in the sneaker is the one that should have been on the brake.

\

What he did to his wife's car.

Next week, shameless self-promotion concerning the launch next Tuesday of Strange Gods.   After that, the Sicilians will get out their knives.  By then the car should also be fixed.

Annamaria Alfieri

Alafair Burke on Writing and the Law

Alafair Burke - American Crime Novelist, Professor of Law, Legal Commentator… and a Downright Nice Person!

Along with hordes of other readers, I'm storming the gates this week to get my copy of ALL DAY AND A NIGHT!

IF YOU WERE HERE had me glued to the pages. Its back-cover blurb expressed my own thoughts: "Blistering. As carefully plotted as a surgeon's heart transplant!"

With a Phi Beta Kappa key, honors from Stanford Law and the Order of the Coif under her belt, Alafair Burke is, according to Harlan Coben, "A major talent!"

Michael Connelly says "She's got what it takes!"

So what is in this talented writer's future besides crime bestsellers?

• To qualify eventually for a senior LPGA tour!
• To provide a loving home (with Sean her husband) for two adorable four-legs - Bogey Duffer Burke Simpson (known as Double) and newcomer Frannie.

I'm delighted to share with you Alafair's responses to my questions on her writerly life.

T. Jacqueline Straw

photo by Deborah Copaken Kogan

---

Thelma: What sparked this intriguing plot?

Alafair: This book isn’t based on any single case but on a phenomenon. With more than 300 exonerations through new DNA evidence, we are in an era where the once unthinkable is now undeniable: We convict the innocent, we imprison the innocent; we place the innocent on death row.

In this book, Detective Ellie Hatcher and her partner, JJ Rogan, are asked to serve as a “fresh look” team, essentially re-investigating the evidence against a convicted serial killer named Anthony Amaro who is serving a life sentence without parole. I thought that putting Ellie—a true blue cop who now lives with a prosecutor—at the center of a wrongful conviction case could show us a new side of her. Maybe she’d even learn something about her job and the people she works with.

In a way, I’ve probably wanted to write this book for more than a decade. The first murder case I worked on as a prosecutor wasn’t even a prosecution. My job was to help my office get two innocent people released after the real killer exonerated them. It was absolutely fascinating to see, with the benefit of hindsight, the bizarre turns of events that had led to their convictions. As a law professor, I write about some of the causes of wrongful convictions and the role that police and prosecutors can play in them, whether wittingly or not. I don’t think anyone sets out to convict an innocent person, but we’ve learned that there are red flags in the process: leading interrogations, single eyewitness identifications without reliable checks, faulty scientific evidence. Sometimes it just boils down to tunnel vision: once police think they have the right guy, they continue to process every new piece of evidence through that lens.


Thelma: What came first… the characters, the plot, the actual puzzle?

Alafair: The character of Carrie Blank came first. She’s a young defense attorney whose half-sister was a stripper and a drug addict and was one of Amaro’s victims. She agrees to represent Amaro because she believes it’s the only way to make sure the police got the right man for her sister’s murder.

But working on this case brings Carrie back to her hometown of Utica and all the guilt she feels for escaping the rough neighborhood where she was raised. Years ago, I read a lengthy New York Times article calling attention to how difficult it is to break out of class barriers in this country. The article focused on three girls from poor families who were close friends and academic super-stars. Despite getting college scholarships, they all struggled to get through school. They had family obligations, distractions, and a hard time fitting into college culture. Carrie’s backstory grew out of that article.

Thelma: I confess I am most drawn to your standalones. Anything on the near horizon?

Alafair: I am just starting a new standalone this week! I’m really excited about it. But that’s all I’m saying for now.

I also have a book coming out in November that is co-authored with Mary Higgins Clark. It’s called THE CINDERELLA MURDER and is the start of a series based on Mary’s #1 bestseller, I’VE GOT YOU UNDER MY SKIN.

Thelma: Do you map out a plot in advance - or are you what they call a pantser?

Alafair: Oh, I am definitely a seat-of-the-pants kind of writer. But I usually don’t start writing until I have a good sense of the main characters and their motivations. It’s amazing how well that groundwork can lead you on the plotting journey.

Thelma: What kinds of scenes do you get a real kick out of doing?

Alafair: I love banter. I love fast-talking, quippy, dialogue-driven movies where all the characters are sharp-tongued and quick-witted. My favorite scenes are when Ellie is verbally sparring (in jest, of course, and as sport) with her brother Jess or her parter, JJ Rogan.

Thelma: Why did you start writing novels? You have had a brilliant career in law.

Alafair: I was already a big reader, especially of crime fiction. When I was the District Attorney’s Office in Portland (in the 90s), I got an idea for a book and became yet another lawyer who wanted to write a novel. When I moved to New York, I took a summer off to study for the bar. I figured I’d go ahead and start that book while I was at it. It took me three years to finish. By then, I was a law professor. Much to my delight and surprise, the editors who wanted to publish the novel assumed it would be a series. Who was I to disagree?

Thelma: Do you plan to base other novels on your legal experience?

Alafair: In a way, I would say that every book I've ever written was based in some part on my legal experience. Even when the characters are not lawyers, I am writing about the impact of crime on human lives, which I don't think I would understand at the same level if not for my time at the District Attorney's Office.

Certainly, though, some of my books are more squarely set within a legal context. In fact, the standalone that I am about to start has a defense attorney has a main character.

Thelma: Would you consider setting parts of your plots in foreign settings? If so, where?

Alafair: Ooh, that's a really good question. I do love to travel, and find myself including what I see in my books. For example, I recently wrote a scene set in Anguilla, one of my favorite places in the world. And in ALL DAY AND A NIGHT, Carrie dreams of going to Europe, because she grew up in a neighborhood where people didn't get to do that kind of thing.

I think I would be intimidated to set an entire book in a place I didn’t know extremely well. To me, place is as big of a character as any individual person. I didn't write about New York until I’d been living here for several years.

Thelma: Will you create a strong major male protagonist for a future book?

Alafair: Yes! I think I have written strong male characters, such as JJ Rogan, Jess Hatcher, and several characters in my standalones. (Patrick in IF YOU WERE HERE is loosely based on my husband.)

But the book I’m just starting has a main character who is male. Stay tuned.

Thelma: Can you tell us what's next on your drawing board?

Well, I’m going to try to start this week while I’m on book tour, so it’s hard to say much about it. Hopefully that drawing board will be filling up quickly.

Thelma: What kind of feedback do you get from your legal colleagues?

Alafair: For the most part, I think my fellow law geeks are thankful that they can read a book without major legal mistakes in it, which is a relief. But I've also learned by now that you can’t write a good novel simply by being a lawyer. People don't read fiction for legal detail or procedural information. Too much of it is a distraction.

I had to take more liberties with legal process than usual in ALL DAY AND A NIGHT. Wrongful conviction cases often take years, which doesn't really work for a page-turner. I have the pace of this case much faster than you're likely to find in real life, although I did try to set up for the reader why the case might move extraordinarily fast.

Thelma: Can you tell us what a typical writing day is for you?

Unfortunately, I don’t have “typical” writing days. I’m a full-time law professor, and my students come first. But when I have a day with no other obligations, I try to write as much as possible that day. I also love to write late at night (like really late, where I start falling asleep at the desk). Most importantly, I try to write at least a tiny bit every day. As long as I do that, I always have the characters and voices in my head and can pick up right where I left off when I get a bigger chunk of time.

Thelma: Describe your most comfortable writing environment.

Alafair: A few years ago, I bought a small studio that is all my own, and I love writing there. I also love to write at Otto, a Mario Batali pizza and wine bar near my apartment. I even have the bar manager, Dennis, as a character in the Ellie Hatcher books.

Thelma: Do you run your first draft by a valued first reader?

Alafair: I am extremely lucky to have my editor, Jennifer Barth at Harper, as my most valued and earliest reader. We have done 10 books together now. She’s invaluable.

Thelma: Do you ever plan to write a novel that takes place at another time in the past?

Alafair: That's one thing I can say I will never do. Parts of ALL DAY AND A NIGHT take place in the 1990s, and that's about as much history as I can take.

Thelma: What is the hardest part of the process for you in creating a new novel?

Alafair: Starting is the hardest part. Because I don't plot things out scene for scene, I have to trust my gut about when it's time to start writing. I usually wait longer than I should. You have to trust that you have enough of a sense of the characters to find your way through a beginning, middle, and end.

WoooOoooo…

It's Friday the Thirteenth, folks, and tonight the moon will be full. Time for ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night. In honor of this rare concatenation (next time it happens will be 2049; last time was October 13, 2000), I thought maybe I'd tell some ghost stories.

The first story is a non-ghost story. As you may know, I serve as a docent at the Marshall House here in Lambertville, the childhood home of James Marshall, who found the first gold in California and started the California Gold Rush of 1849. I could go on and on about his life and work, and I frequently do in the course of my docent gig, but the main thing that strikes me about James Marshall is how badly he got along with his father, Phillip Marshall. Both of them, as near as I can determine, were grumpy and ill-tempered, just the sort of people who might be expected to haunt a house after they've passed over.

And yet the Marshall House is free of haunts. (Possibly this makes it unique among buildings in Lambertville.) Why is this? I maintain that it's a result of having been occupied for eighty years by Sisters of Mercy, who taught in the old stone parochial school that used to be out behind the house. They prayed all the spirits away, you see. Religious structures generally tend to be free of ghosties. Here's a sign in the churchyard of St. Philip's Episcopal Church in Charleston. It says, "The only ghost at St. Phillip's is the Holy Ghost. Join us for worship Sundays 8:15 and 10:30, Wednesday 6 P.M …and learn about the Trinity including the Holy Ghost." Evidently they are troubled by tourists tramping about their old graveyard in search of apparitions.

When our tourists here in Lambertville inquire about ghosts they often get to chatting about their own ghosts. You would be surprised how many people have resident ghosts in their homes. The tales they tell me are oddly similar. Their ghosts like to hang out with the family. Sometimes they get jealous of visitors and break things, shelves full of old china and glass. Sometimes they warn people of impending disaster, trees about to fall on the children's bedrooms and the like. Those are the friendly ones. Then there are the ghosts who weep all the time, loudly, inconsolably, completely self-absorbed. You never see them, you just hear them through the wall. I had a friend who said she never lived anywhere that wasn't haunted. She used to hear weeping and screams. Makes you wonder.

This may be a feature of the craze for buying new houses. Get a house younger than ten years old and you'll have to haunt it yourself. Also you won't need to replace the roof, furnace, wiring, or plumbing, but that's another issue. I have to wonder where all these new houses are going to be built. In graveyards, maybe, when the rest of the land runs out. Then you'll see some haunts.

I like an old house. I don't see or hear ghosts, myself, and as far as I know no ghost has ever attacked my crockery. I do sense a difference, when I walk into a place, between a brand new structure empty of old vibrations and a place where other people have lived.

When you sell your old house you have to tell the buyer if it's famously haunted, like the Amityville Horror house. It's an official stigma, like people dying or murdering each other in the house. But if you have just one or two quiet, friendly little ghosts I don't believe you need to declare them. Caveat emptor, after all. Some say my attic is haunted; a woman who lived here happily for ten years says it is not. My glasses are so dirty that I can't see live people, let alone haunts, and the only thing I hear is my neighbors. So maybe yes, maybe no. Anyway it isn't for sale.

© 2014 Kate Gallison

The Amber of Zanj

In the tenth century, an Arab traveler named al Masu’di wrote of his wonderings in Persia, India, and China.  And along the east African coast, which he called the Land of Zanj.  Chinese, Indian, and Persian traders adopted the moniker for the area from present-day Mogadishu south to Pemba Island in Tanzania.  Roughly translated “Zanj” means “the land of blacks.”

The Bantu peoples who lived there, through intermarriage and trading relationships, eventually developed what is now the Swahili culture and its language, which for a few centuries has been the lingua franca of the that part of Africa.

In the heyday of Zanj, there were thirty-seven port villages doing substantial business in imports and exports.  A few became quite prosperous, but they were under a ruling class of Arabs and Persians.   Two of the most important medieval coastal settlements are modern cities in Kenya: Malindi and Mombasa.

When he went there, at the end of the first millennium of the Christian era, Masu’di found a mixed population of Muslims and Bantu pagans.  And riches worth trading, not the least of which was amber.  Here is what he said of that highly prized substance:

“Amber is found in great quantities on the Zanj coast…The best is …sometimes as big as an ostrich egg, sometimes slightly less…”

The jewel-like substance is really fossilized tree resin, and was sought after for its beauty from the time of the cavemen.  In Zanj, it could be found lying on the beaches.

Masu’di also found other luxury goods in the area:

“The land of Zanj produces wild leopard skin.  The people wear them as clothes, or export them to Muslim countries.  They are the largest leopard skins and the most beautiful for making saddles…  They also export tortoise-shell for making combs, for which ivory is likewise used.

“There are many wild elephants but no tame ones.  The Zanj do not use them for war or anything else, but only hunt and kill them…for their ivory.  …the tusks.. go to Oman, and from there are sent to China and India.  This is the chief trade route, and if it were not so, ivory would be common in Muslim countries.”

Keep in mind that these are quotes from someone who died around 945 AD!     

Though the people in that part of Africa were often stereotyped as backward by the lighter skinned folks from farther north, many visitors thought them much more accomplished.  One Fourteenth Century Berber visitor described the city of Kilwa as “one of the most beautiful and well-constructed towns in the world.  The whole of it elegantly built.  The roofs are built with mangrove pole.”  He reported the chief qualities of the population as “devotion and piety.”

Sad to say, a major export from the area was people.  For centuries, all the countries with ports on the Indian Ocean brought in slaves taken from among the Bantu of east Africa, who did just about all the household work and soldiering in Persia and were known as far away as China, where they were called Seng Chi (Zanji).

Some of the slaves in the Middle East were put to work in miserable conditions on sugar cane plantations in what is now Iraq.  Between 869 and 883 AD, they rebelled against their Arab masters in the first known uprising by black slaves in history.

After the Middle Ages, the name Zanj fell out of use.  It was British explorers who brought it back at the end of the Nineteenth Century to describe the forbidding and mysterious land that peaked their adventurous longings.

The very sound of the word peaks mine now.

 

Buddhist prayer beads brought home from China in 1946
by my father, with three beads of amber and one of ivory.

Annamaria Alfieri