Gotham Nights » Books

Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History

Artemis — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 22:49:54 +0000

Lately in my reading, I’ve been leaning towards history (and by lately, I mean the whole of my life; history has always been my favorite subject). One thing that I’ve learned in my latest batch of books is that infamy almost always accompanies fame, especially if the subject in question is a woman. Since fame requires that one stands out from the crowd in some way, the resultant isolation from one’s peers can and does inspire both admiration and resentment. For a woman, whose traditional role was supposed to occur behind the scenes, fame invited even greater condemnation. Historically, if women were behaving, then they were not famous, and they did not make history. The following are three books about women who behaved badly.

Georgiana: Duchess of Devonshire

Georgiana (ancestor of both Princess Diana and Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York) was born into a good, respectable family, the Spencers, and she married into one of the most powerful and influential families in 18th Century England, becoming the Duchess of Devonshire upon her marriage to William Cavendish. Always insecure, Georgiana strived to please her new family, even changing the pronunciation of her own name (she began calling herself Geor-jayn-a) to accomodate their preferences. Despite her efforts, her marriage was a cold one, as the Duke was not interested in his wife beyond her ability to bear heirs.

In an effort to entertain herself, and to leave behind the grief of several miscarriages, Georgiana embarked upon a public life. She became a vocal supporter of the Whig party, and she campaigned on their behalf, even going so far as to visit townsfolk from door to door in order to win their support. She became a leader in fashion and her outrageous ensembles placed her on the papers on a regular basis. Through her politics and her beauty, she became the most famous woman of her day. Her lavish parties were the hot ticket of the season, and her attention was sought by the royal family itself. Georgiana was a crucial and valued asset for the Whigs, their public face, and she schemed and debated with the most poweful politicians of the English Parliament.

Georgiana’s busy public persona masked a deep unhappiness in her home life. She was a compulsive gambler whose debt and careless spending was driving her husband ever deeper into debt. Though she finally produced a son, her husband took a mistress, Georgiana’s best friend Elizabeth “Beth” Foster. So great was Georgiana’s loneliness that she accepted William’s decision to keep Beth permanently in their home. William, however, was not so understanding when Georgiana decided to take on a lover of her own, and heartbreak soon followed.

Through meticulous research into the correspondence, diaries, and newspapers of the era, author Amanda Foreman focuses on the politics of the English aristocracy in the time of George III without falling into melodrama. Most importantly, Foreman’s most vivid portrait is of Georgiana herself, a complex individual whose role cannot be reduced to that of victim, despite what the recent film adaptation starring Keira Knightley would have us believe. Georgiana was both victim and victimizer, a creature with incredibly low self-esteem, full of self-loathing, who nevertheless demanded to be the center of attention. It is in her illustration of this complexity through her attention the the smallest details of Georgiana’s life that Foreman succeeds in bringing her subject back to life.

The Murder of Helen Jewett

In 1836, New York prostitute Helen Jewett (an alias for Dorcas Doyen) was found murdered in her bedroom on Thomas Street. The murder and the ensuing trial of Richard Robinson (one of Helen’s clients) captivated the media and ignited a national discourse of gender relations and public morals. Interestingly, the focus of the book lies not with the investigative technique, or even trying to solve the murder, although Cohen does put forth a suspect. Rather, the emphasis is on the perception of Helen and her trade in 19th Century New York, and how that perception differed in the rest of the nation.

The novel begins with the murder itself, or rather the discovery thereof. Found in a brothel in New York City, Helen’s case was quickly discovered by the rest of the nation thanks to the efforts of the penny press. Unlike the more respectable publications of the time, the penny press delved into the seedier side of crime, including sex crimes, and this case had all the elements of front page material: the prostitute was beautiful, the suspect was a “good boy”, and the killing was brutal. Interestingly, the New York press was sympathetic towards Helen, at least in comparison to the rest of the nation. In its reporting of the case, the NY press emphasized Helen’s beauty and good manners, her sense of culture and fashionable clothing. To a lot of people in NY, Helen’s murder was a tragedy. Not so with the rest of the country, wherein Helen’s murder became a convenient morality tale, a parable meant to teach an important lesson to good girls anywhere who were tempted to stray from the good path. In fact, several publications of the age focused on education as the cause of moral bankruptcy, though only as far as girls were concerned. According to this view, Helen’s education (and she was fortunate enough to get a good one) was the cause of her fall. Stories and reading in general made girls more willing to question their station in life, and to aspire to lives away from their families. Reading, in effect, was the gateway to infamy and lost virtue. The only appropriate reading material was the Bible.

From the various accounts of Helen’s life, Cohen tries to arrive at the person that Helen truly was. Helen herself was very creative in the retellings of her adventures, and she presented different accounts of her life to different people. She was not only beautiful, but very intelligent and strong willed, something surprising for a woman of her time and station. This was a woman who was willing to take men to court if they mistreated her, something that was due, in part, to the city itself, which was willing to hear a whore’s case just as easily as it would hear anyone else’s complaint (something that would change in the coming years, with the resurgence of religious reform, which looked down upon the idea of offering protection to prostitutes).

In addition to the exploration of Helen’s background, the book delves into the background of her accused killer, Richard Robinson, as well as the coverage that surrounded him in the national press. Robinson, a clerk, was judged by the nation to be a good boy who fell in with the wrong crowd, a naive young man who fell into the clutches of an experienced manipulator of the demimonde. He was a man in the wrong place at the wrong time, and with the only testimony against him being from prostitutes, it would be difficult to secure any kind of case against him. Of course, the testimony in question spoke of a dark and violent streak within Robinson, but the court was instructed to disregard it, and the nation soon followed suit.

Though the case was shockingly brief by today’s standards, lasting only a few days, it was very long by the standards of 19th Century jurisprudence. It was also a very high profile case, packing the courtrooms with hundreds of spectators and reporters. The nation was captivated by the scandal, and specifically by its sexual nature. Though quick to condemn the sexuality of the victim, the public delighted in the sordid details of the affair, and the case of Helen Jewett would go on to play a significant role in the history of gender dynamics as played on the national stage.

Other Powers: The Age of Suffrage, Spiritualism and the Scandalous Victoria Woodhull

The American Suffragist movement, organized and galvanized to great strength during the 19th Century, was put on hold when the nation went to war over the question of slavery. During the Reconstruction that followed, women hoped that the support they had lent to the abolitionist cause would be reciprocated as the government re-considered requirements for citizenship and the vote. If the Constitution could be amended to to grant voting rights to blacks, women figured, why could it not be altered to grant these same rights to women? On this account, Suffragists would discover that they were wrong. Not only were the abolitionists unwilling to risk their chances at suffrage by aligning themselves with women, but the women themselves were divided on the issues at stake. The more conservative branch of the movement, supported by the likes of Catherine Beecher, advocated a soft entreaty for the vote, and only the vote. The more liberal branch, headed by Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, wanted to eradicate several forms of oppression against women, most notably marriage laws favoring the husband’s ownership of his wife and children. This challenge against the sacred institution of marriage tore the women’s movement into two resentful factions.

Enter Victoria Woodhull, Spiritualist from a family of con artists. Woodhull, who believed in and practiced the idea of free love, was an incendiary character who blazed to New York City after a life of poverty, prostitution, and communion with the spirits. In NYC, she allied herself with none other than Cornelius Vanderbilt and made a fortune for herself on the stock market. When she decided that wasn’t enough, Victoria tried to lead the women’s movement to Washington, D.C., where she demanded and received an audience from Congress, asserting that women would not be denied the vote. She founded a paper to spread her ideas, and submitted herself as a candidate for the presidency of the United States….all at a time when women could neither vote nor serve in a jury. Her controversial ideas on marriage, which she equated to institutionalized prostitution, and her peculiar living arrangements (she lived with both her former husband and her current lover) brought her into great conflict with the conservative New England branch of Suffragists, and into an alliance with the liberal NYC branch. Her refusal to back down also landed her in jail (several times) and plunged her into one of the greatest scandals of the 19th Century, one centering on one of America’s most pious families, the Beechers.

Author Barbara Goldsmith manages the incredible feat of introducing dozens of characters into the narrative and keeping them in play for hundreds of pages as they move inoxerably towards each other. Though her focus is Victoria Woodhull, Goldsmith places Woodull in the context of America’s Reconstruction, the corruption of the Gilded Age, the politics of the women’s rights movement, and the wave of Spiritualism that captivated the nation in the wake of the Civil War. It is not simply a tale about Woodhull herself, but about her interaction with the nation’s most famous personalities: Horace Greeley, Frederick Douglass, Mark Twain, Ulysses S. Grant, and especially the powerful Beecher family (Henry Ward, Harriet Beecher Stowe and Catherine). Woodhull’s life, as recounted by Goldsmith, is the story of a nation in the midst of chaos and change.

The Gun Seller

Artemis — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 19:40:17 +0000

Hugh Laurie’s 1996 novel, The Gun Seller, is an espionage thriller that, from England to Morocco, from the armed forces to a terrorist unit, follows the misadventures of a former Scots Guards officer named Thomas Lang. Lang starts the novel making a living through freelance work as a bodyguard and general tough guy, though he assures the reader that his reputation for toughness is greatly exaggerated. He’s the type of man who avoids confrontation at all costs, taking on only those assignments that he knows to be safe, and as far as he’s concerned, his tough guy act is precisely that, an act. He’s neither large of muscle nor brave of character, and prefers to spend his nights drinking in solitude. One day, he meets a man in a bar who, having heard of Lang’s past in the armed forces, requires his services for the assassination of an American businessman named Alexander Woolf. After turning down the job, Lang’s life takes an unexpected and unwelcome turn for the worse when his normally dormant conscience makes a decision to warn the target about the attempt that will be made on his life.

It is here that the novel begins, in posing the question that dominates the book: does Lang think that he is a good man? Lang would answer that he’s not bad, but he’s not particularly good, either. By avoiding conflict, he also avoids sides, and his darkly cynical view of the world is such that he doesn’t think that there is any moral merit in risking his skin for anyone. After his initial good deed, he is plunged into the world of weapons trafficking and espionage, against his will, and forced to make decisions that will determine whether or not Thomas Lang is truly good. This is one of the areas in which the novel, to me, sets itself apart from its genre: it takes into consideration the moral questions surrounding inaction as well as action, exploring the implications of that often repeated (and mis-attributed) saying, that “all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” Morality and ethics tell us that inaction is a decision, and it is Lang’s preferred method of non-engagement. He’s a man who prides himself on his clever avoidance of heroics, a really nice guy who simply can’t be bothered with good or evil, stances better left to less lazy people.

If the exploration of morality in the novel is one of its most unexpected strengths, its humor is its most overt selling point. It is no surprise to those who are familiar with Hugh Laurie’s comedy-centric background that the novel is funny. The surprise is just how it manages to be simultaneously tense and hilarious. Laurie is every bit as witty, funny, and cynical as the curmudgeonly doctor that he plays on tv. He concocts a novel that functions both as a satirical view on the spy genre AND a really suspenseful spy thriller. Don’t be fooled by the blurbs comparing Laurie’s novel to The Naked Gun; there are real stakes in The Gun Seller, and the characters face real danger. The laughs are mixed in with moments of shocking and effective violence. Though there is a tiny hint of Bond, Lang is closer to The Scarlet Pimpernel, a spy who is clever enough to hide how clever he really is. Lang (like his creator) is quite the smartass, and the book will make you laugh out loud with its observations about the absurdity of the genre, but it takes the characters and situations very seriously, so that the book is as thrilling as it is funny.

I must be honest; I picked up The Gun Seller because, as a fan of Hugh Laurie, I was curious about his abilities as a writer. I didn’t expect that the novel would be bad, but I didn’t expect to enjoy it, either, since I normally don’t read spy novels. What I found was a great read by an author that relishes in language, and delights in playing with words and situations that are usually treated with solemnity in most spy stories. For instance, as Publisher’s Weekly pointed out, Laurie and Lang engage in a fetishizing of weaponry, a theme common in the genre, but the self-referential nature of the narration comments on the genre as a whole. He recognizes the cliches and embraces them with both affection and irony. Laurie clearly loves the genre, and has fun playing with it, and he invites the reader to have fun with him, thereby establishing a give and take that is partly dependent on the reader’s own engagement in the material. It’s a delightful read, and the only shame is that Laurie hasn’t written anything since. A second novel, The Paper Soldier, has been in the works for a decade, and hopefully will see release soon.

Battlestar Galactica and Philosophy

Artemis — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 02:56:51 +0000

As one of the most critically acclaimed and celebrated series in television history, the re-imagined Battlestar Galactica commands a loyal fan following. With complex characters, storylines and moral quandaries, the series makes a perfect subject for a philosophical treatise, and it has received a worthy treatment in Battlestar Galactica and Philosophy: Knowledge Here Begins Out There.

For the uninitiated (a group which, judging by the ratings, comprises a large portion of the population), Battlestar Galactica is a series that began with the annihilation of mankind at the hands of their former slaves, the robotic Cylons. A small number of survivors manages to escape the massacre and, under the protection of the Battlestar Galactica, they seek to ensure the survival of mankind by finding a new home where they can settle down and be safe. Unbeknownst to them, the Cylons have developed the ability to synthetically reproduce human biology, so that they are nearly indistinguishable from humans, and they may be hiding amongst the survivors in the fleet.

The re-imagined series differs from the original Battlestar Galactica in several crucial ways, some of which form the basis for the philosophical questions that are asked in this book. First of all, the Cylons of the new series were created by the humans (in the original series, they were created by an alien race), which brings forth the question of responsibility for our own creations. The humans of the Galactica universe chose the path of enslaving of sentient beings, which begs the question (regularly posed in the series itself) of whether humans are worthy of survival and/or mercy at the hands of the Cylons. Of course, like many of the questions posed by the series, this one is further complicated by the fact that the Cylons themselves have enslaved others, including members of their own group. There are no easy answers in the Galactica universe, which is what makes it such a rich text for discussion and debate.

The issues at stake in the Galatica universe are so numerous and complex that several books can be written on the series (and they have been; there’s also a Battlestar Galactica and Philosophy: Mission Accomplished or Mission Frakked Up?, as well as several others). In this Blackwell volume, the reader can find essays on the following topics:

The role of religion in the Galactica universe (the Cylons are, for the most part, devoted monotheists, while the Colonials are polytheistic),

The question of identity within the Cylon models (if there are two Sharon Cylons, and they share the same sets of memories, how can identity be defined for each of them?),

The various historical definitions of personhood, and how they would incorporate (or not incorporate) the Cylon race,

Moral issues in times of war (is it okay to leave people behind to die, even if it serves a greater cause?)

The choices of collaboration versus resistance during a time of enemy occupation,

Gender issues in BSG, especially as they relate to the character of Starbuck, who was played by a man in the original series.

These questions and several others are explored by philosophers from various universities. The insight in the book is great, and the prose accessible. As evidenced by the list above, the topics covered are diverse, which means that fans will be sure to find essays that are of particular interest to each them. On the downside, this plurality of topics means that each topic cannot be explored in the depth that some readers may want (for example, I am particularly interested in gender dynamics within Galactica, and I wish there were more essays on that), but such is the sacrifice that must be made for any comprehensive book.

Battlestar Galactica and Philosophy: Knowledge Here Begins Out There is great food for thought for fans who are eagerly anticipating the conclusion to the series in 2009. If you’re asking, “Why read a book about philosophy in a fictional universe?” the series editor answers that question best:

Philosophy has had a bad public relations problem for a few centuries now. This series aims to change that, showing that philosophy is relevant to your life – and not just for answering the big questions like “To be or not to be?” but for answering the little questions, “To watch or not to watch South Park?” Thinking deeply about TV, movies, and music doesn’t make you a “complete idiot.” In fact it might make you a philosopher, someone who believes the unexamined life is not worth living and the unexamined cartoon is not worth watching.

In complete agreement with the editor, it must be added that if the unexamined life is not worth living, then there are few greater goldmines begging for examination than Battlestar Galactica and this volume does a great job of helping us find that gold. For more information of Battlestar Galactica, visit The Battlestar Wiki, a great encyclopedic site dedicated for the series, which airs on The Sci-Fi Channel.

-Artemis

Update on Harry Potter Lexicon Case

Artemis — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 21:13:15 +0000

Update to my last post about the Harry Potter Lexicon. According to IMDB, a federal judge in NYC has ruled in favor of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros:

Warner Bros. and J.K. Rowling have praised a ruling by a federal judge in New York that effectively halted the publication of a reference guide to the Harry Potter novels by Rdr Books. The guide is based on Steven Vander Ark’s website, The Harry Potter Lexicon. Judge Robert P. Patterson ruled that the guide violates the Potter copyrights. “I went to court to uphold the right of authors everywhere to protect their own original work. The court has upheld that right,” Rowling said in a statement. In his 68-page opinion, the judge took note of the fact that Vander Ark had previously received “positive feedback” about the website from Rowling herself, who confessed that she had periodically checked it out while writing her books for particular facts that she had forgotten. She had referred to it as “my natural home,” he observed. The judge also noted that Warner Bros. had invited Vander Ark to the set of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, where producer David Heyman told him that the film’s writers had used his website “almost every day.” However, Patterson observed, the book uses “a troubling amount” of quotations from the book, sometimes with quotation marks, “but more often the original language is copied without quotation marks, often making it difficult to know which words are Rowling’s and which are Vander Ark’s.”

You can also read more about the ruling, and the case as a whole, at The Leaky Cauldron Website.

Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox

Artemis — Sun, 03 Aug 2008 17:32:20 +0000

The Time Paradox is the sixth book in the Artemis Fowl series, and author Eoin Colfer has delivered another gem. In this latest installment, supergenius Artemis is pitted against his greatest rival yet…a 10-year-old version of himself.

A little background: Artemis Fowl II was born into a wealthy family of Irish criminal masterminds. When his father was kidnapped, 10-year-old Artemis assumed leadership of the family, given his mother’s debilitating grief, which rendered her incapable of taking care of herself or her son. With the aid of his faithful bodyguard and butler, named Butler, Artemis became determined to rescue his father, using his supergenius mind to hatch criminal schemes that even his ancestors never could have imagined. His first major plot, back in the first book, was the theft of fairy magic and technology.

Eoin Colfer’s fairies are not styled after the traditional fairies of fantasy literature. He has described his books as “Die Hard with fairies” and this is due to the fact that his fairy characters are cynical cops, carrying extremely advanced technology, who are charged with keeping the world safe for fairies and other beings threatened by the Mud Men (aka humans), for human beings are the greatest threat to themselves and to every being on the planet. The Fairies are charged with undoing or preventing most of the damage that the humans are unleashing on the Earth, for fairies value all life as precious. One of the greatest recurring themes of the books is that of conservation and the safeguarding of Earth’s natural resources, for the Fairies get their magic from the Earth itself. In order for them to succeed, they also have a great need for secrecy, which is threatened by their association with Artemis Fowl.

With its mix of mythical creatures and futuristic technology, the Artemis Fowl series has captured the imaginations of millions of children, who eagerly anticipate the the wild, suspenseful adventures contained in each of the books. Indeed, the series is packed with action and great moments of exhileration, but for all its fantastical plots, the series’ greatest strength remains the careful development of the title character. Artemis started out as a ruthless 10-year-old who would not hesitate to cheat and harm others, so long as his goals were achieved. He possessed a very dry, cynical humor which alienated most people around him, for they perceived the icy boy as unnatural. Artemis viewed emotions as a sign of weakness, and he took pride in closing himself off before allies and enemies alike. In creating the character, Colfer walked a fine line between making him the villainous mastermind that Artemis proclaimed himself to be, and maintaining a tiny thread of humanity within him that made him worth saving. After all, if the character were totally repulsive, who would care about Artemis’s destiny? This is why the gadgets and the magic, though used in innovative ways, are not the reason behind the long-running success of the series. The series is about the salvation of Artemis Fowl as a human being, not in a religious sense, but in the sense that we the readers know that Artemis will not be completely happy until he finds the humanity within himself.

Over the course of the last five books, and through his interactions with the Fairy people, Artemis has evolved, ever so slowly, from the selfish, arrogant boy of the first book, into a much more humane, caring person. Though he still maintains enough mischief to cause everyone around him to worry, he is now using his mental prowess for less evil ends, though still profitable ones (he wouldn’t be Artemis Fowl if he wasn’t up to some form of devilry, but he has developed ethical boudaries for himself that were not there before). He has become almost heroic, in spite of himself and his protestations of evil. Now, in The Time Paradox, one of his evil deeds comes back to haunt him. Several years ago, Artemis caused the extinction of a species of lemur, which he sold on the black market. When his mother (the source of any good that ever was present in her son) becomes ill, Artemis hatches a desperate plan to go back in time to save the lemur, which could be the key to her salvation. Of course, his opponent in that past time is his 10-year-old self, who has all of his cunning and none of his ethical development. This confrontation between the elder and younger versions of Artemis highlights the emotional core of the series, as well as the brilliant and subtle way in which the character has developed over the course of five previous books. He didn’t become our present Artemis over night; it was a process that was several years in the making (and an ongoing process which has not yet been completed). Luckily, Arty is not all good yet, and he’s not above breaking the rules and getting himself into all sorts of trouble. He’s still Artemis, which means that his ethics have not yet caught up to his ambition and intellect, so there’s still plenty of adventures to be had. The only question is whether the new Artemis has enough wits to overcome his younger self’s greed. In the battle of the Artemises, who will win?

The Meaning of Night

Artemis — Thu, 26 Jun 2008 20:13:38 +0000

The subtitle of Michael Cox’s first novel is A Confession, for that is exactly what it purports to be, the confession of a killer, Edward Glyver. The novel opens with Glyver’s murder of an innocent in 19th Century London. Throughout the text, as narrator and protagonist, Glyver chronicles the events that led to his present, desperate circumstances. He feels that the hand of fate is driving him inexorably towards a violent confrontation with his life-long enemy, the elusive Phoebus Daunt, the man he holds responsible for the injustices that life has visited upon him.

The Meaning of Night is a great, modern take on the Gothic Novel. It uses the backstreets of London to its greatest advantage, to mirror the turmoil and the rage of Glyver’s mind, as well as the mystery surrounding his past. The twists and turns of the story, as seen through Glyver’s eyes, make the betrayals that he suffers seem that much more vivid. He is far from heroic, and in fact he’s heavily disturbed, but he doesn’t lose the reader’s sympathy, for his journey is a believable one. Glyver struggles, from the beginning, against the calamities that are closing in around him, and his struggle becomes the reader’s. We follow his journey into darkness because we understand that his motives are sound, even if his methods are not.

Cox’s knowledge and love of books (he has edited collections of Victorian literature) is evident in the text, for Glyver is a bibliophile, as are the people he loves, and literature is referenced constantly throughout the narrative. Furthermore, the novel is presented as an actual Victorian text, complete with Latin chapter titles, as per the style of the era. Cox opens with a preface from a fictional editor who has found Glyver’s manuscript and published it in book form, adding footnotes regarding the time period and titles named therein as necessary. There are shades of Bronte and Conan Doyle, as Glyver attempts to piece together the pieces of his past, and comes to the realization that Daunt must die at his hands. The plot hinges on the revelation of the connections between Daunt and Glyver, and the unraveling of the mystery makes for an engrossing climax.

With The Meaning of Night, Michael Cox illustrates how an essentially good man can be driven to perform horrible deeds. It is a journey into desperation and despair that is expertly written, with rich but unpretentious prose. The pace is deliberate and tense, but never slow or boring. For fans of the Gothic classics, like Jekyll & Hyde and Jane Eyre, this should be a very enjoyable read: a great Gothic novel with a modern, dark psychological bent.

-Artemis

The Alienist

Artemis — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 19:39:16 +0000

Historical fiction must walk a fine line between entertainment and didacticism. If there is too much embellishment or a flagrant neglect of historical accuracy, the novel will turn off the genre’s history buffs. Veer too much into the history of the era depicted, and the general public may lose interest. With The Alienist, author Caleb Carr paints a vivid picture of New York City during the waning years of the 19th Century, and he does so without sacrificing the quick pace and suspense of his story.

The eponymous alienist (i.e. psychologist) is Laszlo Kreizler, a doctor whose modern approach to criminal psychology has rendered him an outcast from the fellows in his profession. Rather than dismiss all violent criminals as insane, Kreizler looks for clues and patterns in a killer’s formative years, in his environment, that may render him unable to control his violent impulses. Kreizler thus becomes convinced that a psychological portrait of a criminal, a profile, might help to identify and capture offenders. When a series of violent murders occur in Manhattan, newly appointed Police Commissioner Theodore Roosevelt enlists the aid of his old college friends, Dr. Kreizler and NY Times reporter John Moore, the novel’s narrator. Roosevelt has troubles of his own, having replaced an extremely corrupt predecessor. His unconventional hiring choices, like the introduction of women and Jews into the force, do not make him very popular. Because the murderer in question targets male transvestite prostitutes, Roosevelt has to exercise extra caution to see the investigation through to its conclusion; otherwise, it would easily be buried along with similar cases. He assembles a small team to aid Moore and Kreizler, consisting of detectives trained in the nascent disciplines of fingerprinting and forensic medicine, methodologies very suspect in the 19th Century, and inadmissible in courts of law.

The novel moves at a very brisk pace, and it never loses momentum. Its carefully researched recreation of turn-of-the-century New York never hinders the story being told. Historical characters and places make brief appearances, but they are used sparingly to drive the plot forward, not as exhibits whose sole purpose is to call attention to the writer’s expertise. A reader of historical fiction could easily be pulled out of the narrative by its representation of such a strong and colorful personage as Roosevelt, who would overwhelm the story easily in the hands of a lesser writer. Here, he drives the investigation from a distance, not as a protagonist, thereby allowing the fictional characters to take center stage. With one notable and brief exception, the historically based aspects of the novel are sutbly integrated into the fictional narrative.

Of course, there would be no point in setting the novel in a particular time period unless that particular moment somehow signifies. Here, the turn of the 19th century into the 20th provides a backdrop of change, not only chronologically, but in the police procedure that the characters employ to search for their man, procedure that was controversial at the time, but which presently is standard and expected for such cases. The time period also serves to illustrate the contrasts in attitudes and living conditions in New York as it was then and New York as it is now. John Moore is a Watson-like narrator, not entirely engaging on his own, but chronicling the methodologies and eccentricities of a much greater man (Lazlo). Though the backgrounds of the characters are only lightly touched upon, their characterization speaks volumes about who they are as people. The greatest thing about Lazlo’s team is the determination and good, old-fashioned legwork they put into tracking down their suspect. This isn’t a novel that sets out to shock you a last-minute revelation (I find that such “shocking” revelations undermine the so-called capabilities of the detectives in detective fiction). This is a celebration of hard work and careful deduction, as well as innovation.

The Alienist takes the reader on an exciting ride through the back-alleys and hidden underbelly of Manhattan, and it is a suspenseful, engrossing ride from beginning to end.

-Artemis

Misconceptions About J. K. Rowling Copyright Trial

Artemis — Sun, 11 May 2008 20:39:27 +0000

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been following J.K. Rowling’s suit against Steve Vander Ark, founder of The Harry Potter Lexicon. The website organizes Rowling’s Potter mythology into alphabetical order, so that a visitor may look up the definition of a word (and its uses in the Potter canon), or the biography of a character in the series. The Lexicon won Rowling’s Fansite Award a few years ago, and with the conclusion of the series, Vander Ark decided to go forward with plans to release the Lexicon in book form, despite the opposition of Rowling and Warner Brothers. Rowling brought suit, and the media coverage has been extensive. What is surprising is how ill-researched the coverage of the trial is. Because of lazy reporting, there are a lot of misconceptions about the trial circulating the internet. Before we examine those, let us examine the one key point that the media got right: the outcome of this trial will have legal repercussions that will influence copyright law in areas that extend far beyond Harry Potter and its fandom.

Misconception #1: J. K. Rowling is very rich. Therefore, she should allow Steve Vander Ark to share in the wealth.
This argument has not been presented by the media, but it has made its way into several boards and fan comments. Furthermore, news articles in “legitimate news sources” like The Chicago Tribune and MSNBC.com are painting Rowling as a Goliath trying to crush the vulnerable Steve Vander Ark’s David. An incredibly cliched and badly written article in The New Yorker compared Rowling and Vander Ark to Athena and Arachne, and painted a portrait of a wounded Steve, who expressed his complete befuddlement regarding Rowling’s cool reception of him at the trial. If we accept the notion that this case has wide-reaching repercussions, then it is of the utmost importance that the correct side wins, even if this side is the very wealthy Rowling and Warner Brothers. To put this into perspective, we must think of struggling authors, those who are not wealthy, who deserve protection for their work. The verdict for this case affects them, as well. Rowling’s wealth is irrelevant; if the Lexicon book infringes on her intellectual property, then she deserves protection under the law. Her bank account and Steve’s should not figure into the decision or into the coverage of the trial.

Misconception #2: J. K. Rowling is greedy. She wants to write a her own encyclopedia, and fears that Vader Ark’s book will minimize her personal profits from it.
Rowling doesn’t seem to me to be a hoarder of money. She has gifted vast sums to charities in the past. Furthermore, she has written books with the express purpose of donating their proceeds to charity (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Quidditch Through the Ages). She made a hand-written book, The Tales of Beedle the Bard, which also raised millions for charity. She does, indeed, intend to write a Harry Potter Encyclopedia, but the profits of this work will go to charity also. If she has any concerns about its profits (such concerns are unlikely, given the popularity of the Potter books), her concerns have nothing to do with a greedy need to increase her personal fortune.

Misconception #3: Rowling opposes any books that try to cash in on the Harry Potter phenomenon, and therefore intends to bar all related works.
If you’ve gone to a bookstore within the last couple of years, you’ve seen several Harry Potter-related books on the shelves (ex. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Harry Potter, The Magical Worlds of Harry Potter, Harry Potter and Philosophy: If Aristotle Ran Hogwarts, The Psychology of Harry Potter, etc.). Several of these books are marked as unauthorized, meaning that they are not endorsed by Rowling, but she is nevertheless aware of their existence. In the trial (the transcripts of which can be found on The Leaky Cauldron website), these books were discussed, and it was emphasized that Rowling made no attempt to block their publication. Whatever she feels about their quality (or lack thereof), she has chosen not to pursue undue legal action against books that fall outside of her copyright protection. On the contrary, she has encouraged the publication of at least one such book, Melissa Anelli’s chronicles of Harry Potter fandom (not yet released). This brings us to our next point…

Misconception #4: Steve Vander Ark’s book is protected under Fair Use, a legal clause that allows for the critique, analysis, parody and general discourse surrounding someone else’s work.
Fair Use is a wonderful thing. Without it, there would be no film reviews, no book discussions, no parody shows and no resources to include in our academic papers. Several people share The Chicago Tribune’s opinion that:

“A Rowling-Warner Brothers victory could make potential commentators think twice about doing a book on a cultural phenomenon, such as “The Sopranos” or ” American Idol.” Conversely, if RDR wins, they would have more leeway to write commentaries, references and parodies.

The concern is so great that the Right to Write Foundation has donated tens of thousands of dollars to RDR Books (Vander Ark’s publishers, and the actual defendants of the suit), stating on their website:

The case has implications for anyone who comments on a book, song or other creative work on Facebook or YouTube, lawyers say. It also will help define how much control authors have over their characters, according to legal experts. “This is an example of an author trying to control every commentary about her works,” said David Hammer, one of Rapoport’s attorneys. “If it’s successful, scholarship and even playful commentary on literature that’s under copyright will be awfully difficult.”

Notice that the “legal expert” they quoted is one in the employ of Rapoport, owner of RDR Books. Also, notice that both these sources failed to acknowledge the fact that Rowling HAS ALLOWED publication of Potter-related books in the past, even if she does not actively endorse them. This has led to the misconception that Rowling opposes all such works. On the contrary, Rowling has a history of supporting anti-censorship organizations. Also, unlike other authors such as Anne Rice, Rowling has allowed and encouraged internet fanfiction featuring her characters (ex. The Sugar Quill). Her concern is not with Potter-related books in general, but with the Lexicon in particular, because it literally uses her words. This is not a case concerning a book that analyzes Rowling’s work, and brings its own set of ideas to the table (an example of such a book is the excellent Harry Potter and Philosophy, as well as the other works mentioned above). This is a case concerning a book that takes Rowling’s work, word for word, and rearranges it without bringing new content that would qualify the Lexicon as an original text. To add insult to injury, The Leaky Cauldron reports that the Lexicon book does not even cite the sources of the information that it is presenting. If Steve Vander Ark were a college student, he would fail any project that lacked such critical citations, and there are indications that he knew the endeavor was a shady one. Initially, he had refused to publish his Lexicon, precisely because of copyright concerns, and when he agreed to RDR Books’ offer, he demanded a clause that would compel RDR Books to pay all legal fees in case of a lawsuit.

Misconception #5: Rowling promoted the Lexicon website, and gave it a Fansite Award. In the trial, she called the Lexicon a “sloppy” text. Why is she so inconsistent?
Here, I will admit my limitations in the area of law, and express confusion as to why the Lexicon’s quality was brought up at trial. I don’t see whether its being great text or shoddy text matters, so long as it is Vander Ark’s text. I can say, however, that there is a huge difference between presenting the Lexicon as a free website and publishing it for +$25 a copy. Clearly, the difference here is the Vander Ark has now entered a situation in which he seeks to profit from Rowling’s work, something he was not doing with the website. This is the equivalent of taking a piece of Harry Potter fanfiction and releasing it in book form. Actually, it’s worse than that, since the fanfiction would presumably be an original story, created by the new author, which is more than we can say about Vander Ark’s Lexicon.

My reaction to the suit is clearly pro-Rowling. Legally, no one should profit from someone else’s work, period. This opinion does not stem from a blind devotion to her, but from a concern about the protection of intellectual property and copyright. Let us remember that copyright was established to protect the artist/creator and to ensure that he can benefit from his work and continue to create. If creators are not protected this way, then anyone can steal their work, and they would lose significant resources necessary for their continued creation of new works. It is surprising to me that any author, or any organization that seeks to promote writers, would support the work of a man who threatening the very core of copyright protection, something that authors should hold dear. I also expected that the press, when covering the case, would take care to research it more thoroughly. One can only hope that the verdict of the trial is a fair one, not one based on such a lack of integrity as the press has displayed in its coverage of it.

-Artemis

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell

Artemis — Thu, 08 May 2008 19:03:37 +0000

Susanna Clarke’s debut novel Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell is an incredibly ambitious undertaking. Within approxamitely 800 pages, Clarke brings to life an alternate history of England, replete with wry humor, vivid and horrific imagery and hundreds of footnotes citing dozens of obscure (and, of course, fictional) magical texts. As the title suggests, the novel’s primary focus is the uneasy relationship between the two eponymous magicians, but it is to Clarke’s credit that this relationship occurs in a world which she has populated with equally interesting and detailed characters.

The story does not begin with Strange or Norrell, but with an England that has seen the rise and fall of magic within its boudaries. In the Dark Ages, the Raven King brought magic into England, thereby playing a crucial role in the foundation of the country. As the centuries passed, magic saw a great decline, and by the 19th century (the setting of the novel), it is not practised at all. People have forgotten how to perform magic, and they study it only as a sort of history. Enter Mr. Gilbert Norrell, who wishes to bring magic back into England, to aid the nation in its war against the French. Norrell becomes an overnight celebrity, despite his lack of social skills, and his great aversion to parties and human interaction. An avid hoarder of books and knowledge, Norrell is very much opposed to sharing magic with anyone, but he is immediately charmed by one Jonathan Strange, a young, talented magician. The two characters are a study in contrast. Where Norrell is humorless, unfriendly, and cautious, Jonathan is full of ironic wit, charm and recklessness. It is therefore no surprise to anyone when the two have a falling out. The interesting thing about these two protagonists is that they are so flawed. Norrell is simultaneously greatly talented and and incredibly petty, while Jonathan’s cheek, though charming, can easily slip into a magnificent arrogance that endangers everyone around him. Despite their differences in character, their obsession with magic is all-consuming in both, and they suffer great losses for it.

The novel is paced slowly, and anyone searching for a quick fix of dueling wizards, thunderbolts and battling armies of otherworldly creatures would be served best elsewhere. Unlike most modern writers, Clarke takes the time to linger on details and observations that are not action-based. Her prose purposely mimicks that of a 19th century novel, with its longer descriptions of characters and places as well as its old-fashioned spelling of words (ex. “”chuse”). Her hilarious observations into human nature bring to mind Jane Austen while her vast “bibliography” of magical history (the aforementioned “footnotes” add a touch of authenticity to the other fabricated material) makes for an entirely realized world in the style of Tolkien’s Middle Earth. For most of the book’s length, however, the reader will not be treated to battles and wars, or even magic, since the task before the two protagonists is to bring it back from the brink of extinction. The novel reads like Dickens or Poe, not like Eragon (and thank goodness for that!).

Although Jonathan Strange has been described by some as fantasy horror, the terrors that Clarke presents are not explicit in nature. Rather, they are like nightmares forgotten upon waking: there is a sense of feeling unnerved, without an ability to understand why, as the source of our fears is banished to the periphery of our consciousness, where we can’t locate it. The sense of fright in Strange can be described more accurately as dread, for the reader begins to understand, much more than the characters do, that things are about to get very dark, indeed. Nevertheless, there are some magnificently haunting scenes interspersed throughout this otherwise understated novel: the rise of the dead during the Napoleonic Wars, the statues of London coming to life and bearing witness to all the crimes they’ve seen over the centuries, and empty ships made of water menacing a harbor, just to name a few. The suspense is built subtly and slowly, but the patient reader will be rewarded with an epic climax that brings all the characters into play, and makes the entire journey a most memorable one. Fantasy fans will find this a worthy addition to their bookshelves.

-Artemis

Devil in the White City

Artemis — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 18:41:49 +0000

The classical biographer Plutarch believed that the best biographies were those that revealed the nature of Man, rather than the facts of one man. To this end, he juxtaposed famous men of the Classical world, drawing comparisons and distinctions between them in order to teach the reader a moral lesson. His Parallel Lives consisted of such biographies, written in pairs.

In his book Devil in The White City, Erik Larson continues in this tradition, highlighting the stories of architect Daniel Burnham and Dr. H.H. Holmes, citizens of Chicago during the Gilded Age, an era of industrialization and wealth that set the foundation for the modern American society of the 20th century. The selection of subjects in a parallel biographical sketch is always crucial, and Larson succeeds very well in this respect by juxtaposing two men with very similar traits, living in the same city at the same time, who used their gifts to vastly different ends.

The Chicago of the late 19h Century was a dirty, industrial city known primarily for its slaughterhouses. Its leading men were captains of industry, self-made men who felt keenly snubbed by the Old Money of the East, and New York in particular. Having succeeded in their own, personal fortunes, these men were eager to prove to the world that Chicago could compete on the world stage with the likes of New York, not just financially, but culturally. When the omnipotence of America was challenged by Paris World Fair of 1889 (and its brand-new Eiffel Tower), the leading cities of the United States lobbied to host the 1893 World’s Columbian Exhibition, which would commemorate the anniversary of the discovery of America. Shockingly, it was Chicago, and not New York, that won the privilege of hosting the fair, much to the chagrin and contempt of New York, which felt that Chicago lacked the manpower and the requisite good taste to host a fair to rival the Parisian exhibition.

Daniel Burnham, a self-made, successful architect from Chicago, was the driving force behind the fair, and the book chronicles his struggle to construct a fair over 630 acres of difficult land in a matter of mere months, amidst bitter disagreements and bureaucratic delays. Though Chicago undertook a near-impossible project, Daniel Burnham’s unwavering commitment allowed the city to succeed and surpass all expectations. The 1893 World’s Fair, nicknamed The White City for its white color design, broke all records for attendance, and its legacy in architecture and urban landscaping would change the designs of cities throughout the USA in the 20th Century. The White City became the model to which other cities would aspire, a beacon of beauty in an age ruled by soot and the ash of industry.

Unfortunately, the nature of Man is dual, and for every great thing achieved there is usually something sinister/opportunistic that lurks in the shadows. While Burnham was building his White City, Dr. H.H. Holmes was establishing himself as a respected physician in Chicago. When he heard news of the World’s Fair, he decided to capitalize on it by buying land nearby and building upon it. He built his “castle” on an entire city block, a mansion with hundreds of rooms and odd hallways, built with little light, the plans of which were known only to Holmes himself. He rented the bottom floors to shops, but kept the other floors for renters who were staying in Chicago for the Fair. In the process of building his castle, he cheated and defrauded several creditors, but his plans for the building were not pecuniary. In fact, he rejected several potential tenants that lacked the traits which he was seeking. He wanted young, beautiful women, new to Chicago, women who could easily disappear without a trace in the Black City.

Dr. H.H. Holmes was a serial killer, one of the first on U.S. soil, and his house of death claimed the lives of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of women and children. He tortured and killed his victims in the soundproof recesses of his castle, then he would skin the bodies and sell the skeletons to hospitals throughout the country. He was extremely intelligent and took advantage of the Fair to prey on victims that were not native to Chicago, a city so crowded that it lacked the manpower to find the increasing number of people who went missing at the Fair.

Burnham and Holmes: two men from humble backgrounds, men who rose in stature through the strength and tenacity of their personalities. They were determined to live a life that was more comfortable than the one they were born into, and they succeeded in raising their fortunes through unwavering determination. They were men who relied on their considerable intelligence and persuasiveness to achieve what they desired. They were opposite sides of the same coin, opposite sides of Man’s ambition. One dedicated his life to the Creation of beauty, and the other to the destruction of it. Larson’s ability to recognize the similarities as well as the differences between these men is the book’s greatest strength, the recognition that Man has the potential for both greatness and evil, and that the ambition of such men would define the Gilded Age and the century that would follow, just as it has defined the whole of Man’s existence, ever since he developed the capacity to dream.