The Coffin Diaries

FIRE SEASON has a cover!

2011-11-27T09:09:00.001-06:00

Draft cover for the new novel. The best one so far, I think. Glad they got the Pilgrim Monument in there, finally.

Loomis speaks.

2011-11-27T09:06:00.001-06:00

Nice interview with my crimespace/facebook buddy B.R. Stateham. For some reason Blogger won't let me post a reply, but my response to Austin's comment is that I have a great editor at SM/M who understands that I have a demanding, full-time teaching job and a young family, so a book every two or three years is about as fast as I can write them. As long as they keep earning out, everybody's happy. Ish.

Note to potential readers

2011-08-05T11:15:00.001-05:00

I'm having way too much fun to ever write a conventional mystery/thriller/whatever--one that doesn't depart an inch from the predictable expectations of the genre. Maybe I'd make some money if I played it straight (or kept a straight face), but I'd be bored out of my mind by the time I got thirty pages in. Really, as I've said, I'm writing dark comedies that loosely fit within the mystery frame—and the more I can subvert the conventional tropes and structures the happier I am. Most readers get the joke, but folks who insist on straight-up hard-boiled, or detailed procedurals, or sex/violence/profanity-free cozies probably won't like these novels. Fine with me—the (remaining) bookstores are full of perfectly satisfying comfort food for those readers.

Not that the Coffin mysteries don't contain elements of all of those things—they do, but I've never been interested in staying true to the demands of any particular sub-genre; much too limiting. If you wanted to get literary about it, what we're talking about is a kind of post-modern, post-genre pastiche—character-driven mysteries with whole scenes devoted to comedy, lots of sex, too many jokes, the occasional nail-gun crucifixion or human head in a lobster tank. Ultimately, as the man said, we write the books we want to read. Anything else seems like a waste of time.

Closing in

2011-08-02T14:56:00.000-05:00

Getting close-ish to the end of the first draft of FIRE SEASON. It's a fun book--lots of jokes, a certain amount of sex, a UFO sub-plot, a human head in a tank full of lobsters. And fire. Lots of fire. What's not to like?

The Dr Z Forum

2011-07-14T12:06:00.000-05:00

A big howdy to any pals from Z-Talk who might happen by. Lots of great guys there--and I learned a lot about amps/gear/etc.

Bloggered.

2011-07-13T00:36:00.002-05:00

Blogger's acting very weird--not sure what's up wit dat.

Scott Walker: "Give up 12% of your salary or I'll be forced to boil this kitten!"

2011-02-12T10:41:00.002-06:00

From yesterday's NYT piece, it's worth noting that Walker offers a false choice:

"But Mr. Walker and Republican leaders said disassembling unions was not the point at all. The intent, Mr. Walker said, was to avoid balancing the budget some other way: by laying off some 6,000 state workers, and taking away Medicaid coverage for hundreds of thousands of children."

It's only a choice between 12% cuts in compensation for public employees and layoffs and/or Medicaid cuts if tax increases for the wealthiest 1 or 2% of Wisconsin residents are off the table. In fact, Walker lies when he says that this is anything less than a full frontal assault on public employees and public employee unions in Wisconsin. Stripping UW faculty/staff of their right to collective bargaining is a purely political act. It has nothing to do with balancing the budget; it's a naked and cynical attempt to kneecap unions that Walker perceives as political enemies.

Also from the NYT: "'In these tough times, I think people are going to feel that this is not that much to ask,' said Jeff Fitzgerald, the Republican speaker of the State Assembly. 'Everyone is going to have to pitch in.'"

Everyone, Mr. Fitzgerald? Really? Because if John Menard was also getting a 12% tax increase, I'd feel a little bit better about this. A little.

Actual Reader Comment!

2010-07-23T11:10:00.002-05:00

From reader "Ann." This one was so awesome I thought it deserved a post of its own:

"I am half way this this [sic] book and I have never read such trash language in my life in a mystery book. I can read 3 to 4 books a week just reading at night and I was totally disgusted with this one. I chose it because of the setting...Cape Cod..which I love and I am enjoying the mystery part of it but I feel all the foul mouthing [sic] crap in it is uncalled for. I cannot believe you come from a place like Wisconsin and write such trash but of course you are far left (from some of your writing in the book) so that figures...anything goes. I wish you well but if this is an example of your type of writing I will not buy your books again. Yes I am a female. "

She seems to have mistaken me for the author(s) of the Nancy Drew series.

Government Doesn't Create Jobs

2010-07-20T15:33:00.000-05:00

So, what--I don't have job? The other thousand-odd people employed by UWEC don't have jobs? This is one of the Republican talking points that's always mystified me, and both of the Republican front-runners for governor here have adopted it, big time.

The idea is so pervasive in our culture that it was even parroted recently by Obama: never mind that it's obviously, patently untrue. Government creates millions of jobs, many of which even pay reasonably well and offer decent benefits. Government workers in turn create other jobs: we hire plumbers, babysitters, a kid who mows the lawn; we spend our money on the same stuff private-sector workers spend theirs on--maintaining our house, car payments, dry-cleaning, food; most of what we make goes right back into the local economy. Universities, in particular, have a known multiplying effect: for every dollar the state of Wisconsin puts into the UW system, it gets back something like $1.60 in economic activity--and, of course, it gets a more educated populace.

The other hot Republican idea right now is eliminating pensions for public-sector workers (and then, no doubt, they'll go after our healthcare, and then and then and then). Here's the rationale, as I understand it: most private-sector workers no longer receive pensions—they were swindled out of them a generation ago, and told to go gamble their savings at the Wall Street dog track by putting them in 401Ks. So why should-public sector workers be any less fucked over? People should not have to pay taxes to create jobs that don't suck as bad as theirs! Basically, the fact that some government jobs don't completely suck flies in the face of Republican ideology, so the obvious thing a Republican governor would want to do is insure the total sucky-ness of all those government jobs the government doesn't create. Or something.

UWEC installs new sculpture!

2010-07-14T12:27:00.002-05:00

It's entitled: "The Study of Structure, Blood Cells and Magnetism," and according to UWEC's press release, it was "designed by artist Susan Walsh to represent the values and activities within the science facilities at Phillips Hall." I get the magnet and the comparatively huge strand of (grey) blood cells, but what's with the tomato cage?

Little-known perks of being a published author: true story.

2010-07-13T10:29:00.000-05:00

So we spent a week at the in-laws out in L.A., fine time had by all. Saturday, the day before we're scheduled to fly back, I discover that my wallet's missing--flat gone. We turn the house upside down, search the cars, retrace our steps back to the noodle joint where we'd had lunch (last time I'd taken my wallet out to get at my Visa card), no freaking wallet, nada, zilch, vanished, gonezo, n'existe pas. It's really just a card case--Visa, debit card, faculty ID, insurance cards, driver's license. No driver's license! I'm screwed! How am I going to board a plane at LAX, which has the meanest, most pissed-off TSA crew in the country (outside of Philadelphia, maybe) without a government issued photo ID, which, we're told, we MUST have?

I call Delta--they tell me that yes, I am in fact royally and completely screwed. Good luck getting home, buddy. I try to call TSA: turns out you can't actually call TSA to ask a question—they have a phone number, but you can only use it to apply for a job or report suspicious persons. So my wife and I drive out to LAX a day early to see if we can talk to a TSA supervisor. We actually get to do this--very nice guy named Supervisor Serrano, of the baggage screening department. He says, "They'll take you aside, put you in a booth, ask you some questions to try to prove who you are. They got you in the data base--don't worry about that. It may take a few minutes, but probably they'll let you on the plane. Big brother is watching, right?" This is both reassuring and disturbing, but we go home feeling a bit less stressed about things.

Still, when we get to the airport the next morning, I'm a little apprehensive. What will they ask me? How long will it take? Will the TSA agent be reasonable, or in the more common body-cavity search mode? We check my bag with my wife and kids' stuff, then head upstairs to security. When I get to the podium, we explain what happened--wallet lost, no government-issued ID.

"But," my dazzlingly intelligent wife says, "he does have an unconventional photo ID."

"Okay," the TSA guy at the podium says--he's young, friendly. "Let's see the unconventional photo ID."

I pull a copy of HIGH SEASON out of my briefcase, show him my name and author photo. "That's me," I say.

The TSA guy laughs. "That's a first," he says, initialing my boarding pass. "Have a good flight."

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

2010-06-17T09:38:00.000-05:00

Trying to make the blog a bit more apropos. In keeping with the new theme, about three chapters into FIRE SEASON; I'm working at a library carrel this summer as the office in Hibbard is too noisy and home is too busy/distracting (kids! Guitars!). Hoping to get to 200 pages by summer's end. I know, I know...

iPad: Best Gadget Evah

2010-04-26T10:03:00.003-05:00

I'm not much of an early adopter but my lovely spouse surprised me with an iPad for my birthday last week (the $500 mini, as opposed to the $800 maxi). Like all Apple products nowadays it's a little marvel of design--extremely tactilely rewarding--and none of the early criticism holds much water, IMO. I should do the full disclaimer thing here and admit that I'm a total Apple fanboy--just about the only Apple product we don't have in our house is an iPhone, and that's mostly because I hate AT&T with a white-hot, burning hatred. Back to the iPad: first, the screen is bigger than you expect it to be, and very high res. It's a superb device for intertube surfing and email. In landscape mode the pop-up keyboard is very usable: fine for email and note-taking, posting to web forums, etc. I paid $10 for the Pages app and it works beautifully--took a bit of getting used to not having to save things, and there's a bit of awkwardness with having to shift to the .?123 keyboard for exotic punctuation like hyphens and quotation marks. I wouldn't want to try to write a whole novel on it, but very workable for roughing in scenes, say, or early drafts of poems, or letters, etc. Exports by email seamlessly, in either.doc, Pages or PDF format. The calendar and address-book apps are first-rate. iBooks is incredible--in portrait mode the pages are big and very book-like. The backlit screen is gorgeous and doesn't cause any more eyestrain than reading a printed book, as far as I can tell (all the "butbutbut it doesn't use e-ink" panic is goofy. Who cares?)--plus you can read without an external light-source, which will make spouses of nocturnal readers very happy. The Marvel Comics app has to be seen to be believed: if you like comics, it will rock your world. Great device for sharing photos, watching video, listening to music, etc. Excellent little gamer--I'm old, so I've only tried Scrabble, but it's superb. Yes you can read an ebook or do whatever while listening to iTunes. Free apps for Weather Channel, NPR and BBC, Epicurious, Netflix, eBay, etc. The lack of a USB port seems awkward at first, until you realize you can easily export photos or Pages files through email. There's also an inexpensive app that allows you to export files through your docking port, if you really, really want to. The lack of a camera and a phone seems like an issue until you hold the iPad in your hands, and then you think "this thing's way too big to be a phone--I'd feel like a complete dork trying to talk into it." There's no obvious place to mount a camera because the entire back surface is curved--plus if you use any kind of case to protect it the camera lens would be covered up. A pinhole webcam in the bezel would be nice for Skypers; look for it in the iPad.02, I'm guessing. In short, mega thumbs-up: if you're a gadget-lover like I am, you'd probably really like this critter.

Many thanks to Michael Feldman

2010-03-20T16:55:00.002-05:00

producer Todd Witter, Mike Perry and the band, all the staff and crew of Whad'Ya Know, and the great crowd at Eau claire's State Theater. Tons of fun. Should've brought some books to sell in the lobby.

Is it me

2010-03-13T13:28:00.000-06:00

or is everybody losing their freaking minds?

Going to be on Michael Feldman's "Whad'Ya Know?"

2010-03-13T13:26:00.001-06:00

Next Saturday, March 20. Show airs at 10:00 a.m., central time. They do it live, of course. Terrifying.

Going to Bouchercon

2009-09-18T13:31:00.000-05:00

I'll be the tall guy with the gray mustache sitting at the end of the bar.

Edge, Boston interview/feature.

2009-09-13T12:07:00.003-05:00

Big readership, evidently--and the interviewer asked great questions. I'm very happy.

Toronto Star reviews MATING SEASON

2009-09-13T12:03:00.002-05:00

Very nice. I'm particularly happy about being mentioned in the same breath as Denis Johnson. The fact that it's coming from outside the U.S. doesn't hurt, either.

Selling some books

2009-07-30T11:45:00.009-05:00

Amazon sales ranks

MATING SEASON (hardcover):

#546 in Books
#3 in Books > Mystery & Thrillers > Police Procedurals
#40 in Books > Mystery & Thrillers > Mystery

MATING SEASON (Kindle edition):

#446 in Kindle Store
#2 in Kindle Store > Kindle Books > Mystery & Thrillers > Police Procedurals
#4 in Books > Mystery & Thrillers > Police Procedurals
#42 in Books > Mystery & Thrillers > Mystery

HIGH SEASON (mass-market paper):

#514 in Books
#2 in Books > Mystery & Thrillers > Police Procedurals
#36 in Books > Mystery & Thrillers > Mystery

Still not breaking 100, but not bad, either...

Update @ 12:30 p.m.:

#368
#329
#351

overall, respectively.

1:30:

#349
#314
#357

I'm guessing HIGH SEASON's slowed a bit by the fact that Amazon's out of the paperback. Used copies selling briskly!

2:00

Numbers creeping back up. Fun while it lasted!

NPR thing moved to Thursday, 7/30

2009-07-27T11:47:00.004-05:00

They promise they'll air it, which is the main thing--but it would've been nice if they'd told me the date had changed. Not that I'm complaining.

Update: They've got an excerpt of MATING SEASON up on the website.

Actual reader comment!

2009-07-26T10:36:00.006-05:00

From reader "Anonymous" (of course):

Read your book Mating Season, first book I have read by you and the last, I don't think you shouldput (sic) your politics in your books by bashing Pres. Brush (sic!) and his Cabinet which shows your liberal views which we can do without.

You're really going to hate the next one, dude.

MATING SEASON written up in Volume One

2009-07-03T15:19:00.002-05:00

Nice article. Terrible picture. From now on, V1 gets the official author photo.

Starred review from Booklist

2009-03-13T09:12:00.001-05:00

Advanced Review – Uncorrected Proof
Issue: April 1, 2009

Mating Season.
Loomis, Jon (Author)
May 2009. 304 p. St. Martin's/Minotaur, hardcover, $24.95. (9780312367701).
When Kenji Sole is found stabbed to death in her lavish Provincetown, Massachusetts, beach home, Detective Frank Coffin and Sergeant Lola Winters have no lack of suspects. The beautiful and wealthy victim had a voracious appetite for sex with a rotating cast of older, married men, whose bedroom activities she recorded surreptiously, while her carriage-house tenant ran a home-based porn business. And she had just threatened to have her rich attorney father declared incompetent after he changed his will to favor his young mistress rather than his daughter. Amid the investigation, Coffin must find his dementia- suffering mother, who has run away from her nursing home, and work at impregnating his girlfriend, who desperately wants a baby. Meanwhile, Kenji’s hidden DVR becomes the hot potato that could solve the crime. Coffin’s second outing (after the acclaimed High Season, 2007) hardly could be better: Loomis’ prose is crisp and smart, and his characterizations ring true, with none more appealing than Coffin himself, a cop with a phobia of corpses. Reminiscent of Robert B. Parker at his best.

— Michele Leber

I loves me some Booklist. And I loves me some Michele Leber, too.

Publisher's Weekly Reviews MATING SEASON

2009-03-09T13:19:00.000-05:00

Mating Season Jon Loomis. Minotaur, $24.95 (304p) ISBN 978-0-312-36770-1
Det. Frank Coffin and his partner, Sgt. Lola Winters, look into the stabbing death of notoriously promiscuous dominatrix Kenji Sole, who had a gift for bringing out a man's “inner jerk,” in Loomis's riotous second mystery to feature the Provincetown, Mass., cop (after 2007's High Season). The investigators rattle nearly every skeleton in the official closets of the ultraliberal community as well as a few cages in the state attorney general's office. Between panic attacks and feeling increasingly tuckered out by fervid attempts to get his much younger yoga-instructor lover pregnant, Coffin confronts a number of life's real tragedies—in particular, the wish of his Alzheimer's-stricken mother to die. Such serious concerns lend depth to a black comedy full of raunchy vocabulary and kinky sexuality. Loomis appears to enjoy shock effects too much for their own sake, but he's definitely a writer to watch given his knack for illuminating human nature. (May)

Mention a dildo and people go all vapory on you...

Coming soon, to a big, weird old house near you

2009-02-13T15:15:00.002-06:00

Is that cool, or what?

Galleys going out for film, foreign

2009-02-05T16:43:00.002-06:00

Kind of exciting, gearing up for the new book to come out. Great if it got picked up for film!

Great stuff.

2008-12-04T08:17:00.002-06:00

Prop 8, the Musical. In case you haven't already seen it.

Cover.

2008-12-01T15:40:00.004-06:00

Not quite what I expected, but it's growing on me.

You're a good man, Mr. Hardin

2008-11-25T18:01:00.003-06:00

Best of luck to you, too—I hope you sell your book for giant pots of money. Peace, of course. I'll be back on crimespace in a few months, most likely--see you then, I hope.

Uh oh.

2008-11-25T13:55:00.004-06:00

Just found a new online source for guitar widgets. They've got Landgraff stuff, and Tim pedals. The question is, can I deduct all the gear I've bought this year, since we played at Blues Fest?

Note to lurking crimespacers re crimespace

2008-11-25T12:00:00.004-06:00

Lots of smart people there, many of whom I'll miss. I enjoyed most of the conversation a great deal. I have a lot of respect for the working writers who post there, and I'm grateful to the readers who've bought and enjoyed my book(s). It's a great site and I'm glad to have been a part of it. Rock on with your fine selves. Better yet, feel free to drop by and leave a comment, if the spirit moves you.

When good forums go bad

2008-11-25T07:35:00.014-06:00

I've been pretty active in the political web forum world the past few years, and what I've learned is that just about any web forum, no matter how benign its purpose or uncontroversial its subject matter, can turn ugly if negative or hostile or aggressively stupid members are allowed to dominate the conversation unchecked. When that happens you have three choices: you can ignore it, you can fight back, or you can leave. In this case I found it hard to ignore, because the hostility was hitting pretty close to home: a lot of snide remarks about academia, a lot of juvenile stereotyping of academics, a lot of chest-puffing anti-intellectualism of the Limbaugh variety (it was even suggested that I'd been "brainwashed by academia"—echoes of Horowitz, ferfuckinchrissakes). I don't really have the time or energy to engage it—too many papers to grade, little kids, copy edits due in two weeks—plus, after a year or so on crimespace I realize that such attitudes are pretty deeply ingrained: literary fiction writers get all the girls, or something. I did post a long, impassioned rant in which I said as clearly as I could that I took such attacks personally, since my wife, my father and most of my closest friends are artists, poets, lit-fic writers and/or academics, but the poo continued to fly. After another round or two, I left. It's possible that I'll sign up again when the new book is a little closer to its release date. Or, you know, not.

Art vs. popular culture

2008-11-23T12:55:00.017-06:00

I used to have this argument with my father when I was, like, thirteen. I believed passionately that art was whatever I wanted it to be, and no one could tell me any differently. My father believed that art was something specific, and that it had rules you could both state and teach, and that those rules had largely been agreed upon in the art world since the advent of modernism. He knew what they were because he was trained to be an artist by other artists, some of whom were a pretty big deal: he went to art school on the GI Bill, first to Yale (BFA), then Cornell (MFA), where he studied with both Albers and De Kooning. He also knew his art history, as we found out in the '60s and '70s when he dragged us through every art museum in Europe. No surprise—he was right, and I was wrong. Because in order for kid-me to have been right, this would have to be art:

Now, if you were desperate you could make the case that "Graceland Christmas" is art, a timeless classic, even, because people like it, and if it speaks to them, who's to say they're wrong? But that would be missing the point. If that's the standard, then soap operas are art, and Judge Judy is art, and internet porn and snuff movies are art, and so on. People like all of those things, after all, and are moved by them, one way or another. So either art is a specific thing, distinct from other things, or it's everything (and therefore nothing). If the latter, there's no point in even discussing it: "art" is just a term without meaning, nothing but an empty catch-phrase for people to throw around. But of course that's not true: art is something—or some things—and not others. Artists, academics and critics have a pretty clear, more-or-less shared view of what it is and isn't, in the broadest sense, at least. It is "Guernica," for example, and it isn't "Graceland Christmas." That's not to say that there isn't some occasional blurring or blending, and that genre fiction, say, can't be both successful genre and do a lot of the stuff art does—but anybody who's worked in both literary and genre forms can tell you that there's not always a lot of room for art-making once you get the genre corset cinched up. This all seems pretty obvious to me, but I've been thinking about it for thirty-five years or so.

Just quit crimespace.

2008-11-21T16:48:00.002-06:00

Tired of having the same stupid argument over and over about why Stephen King is not the greatest writer evah, even though he makes more money than me. Oy.

Good luck, Barack.

2008-11-04T09:40:00.000-06:00

Good luck, America.

Voted today

2008-10-28T13:18:00.001-05:00

Got to talk to lots of nice retirees over at the fire station. Pretty good turnout among the over-70 crowd, looks like.

GObama!

Wassup 2008

2008-10-25T12:24:00.001-05:00

Great stuff. Says it all.

When I die, I want to come back as this guy

2008-10-24T00:29:00.001-05:00

I want one

2008-10-24T00:27:00.001-05:00

Oil prices falling

2008-10-22T13:31:00.002-05:00

This is a good thing, making it a lot less likely (I hope) that we'll have an inflationary depression. Still a good chance of a deflationary depression, of course, but that won't be nearly as bad for us as loss of income AND hyper inflation.

Drunks

2008-10-22T10:08:00.003-05:00

A few noisy drunks wandering up and down the street last night, pretty late. Some kind of small domestic drama playing out; true love on the skids, maybe. Were they the same people who had the cops called on their house party last week? One hates to assume these things, but yeah—probably.

Tired

2008-09-29T16:20:00.002-05:00

Have I mentioned that i'll be very, very glad when this tenure-review business is over (for now) and the revisions are done and sent in? I don't mean to complain, but I kind of miss my wife and kids. And my guitars. And poker. And doing stuff that isn't work.

Tenure/retention review!

2008-09-29T16:01:00.003-05:00

Was anything ever this much fun? And then again, in four months!

Bunnies!

From Atrios

2008-09-23T18:35:00.001-05:00

So, how does one prepare for global economic collapse?

2008-09-21T20:59:00.002-05:00

Stock up on canned goods? Buy a shotgun? I'm stumped.

Every now and then

2008-09-21T16:46:00.001-05:00

I decide I'm about ready to quit my job and become a full-time blues musician.

Too bad I suck at it.

Looting

2008-09-21T15:23:00.004-05:00

Even I am amazed at the pure, brass-balls, broad-daylight audacity of the Bush administration's attempt to loot the U.S. Treasury to the tune of $700 billion, no oversight allowed, no strings attached. This is what happens when the corporate ruling class declares itself above the law.

Blues Fest

2008-09-15T14:11:00.003-05:00

Our little neighborhood band played at the Eau Claire Coalition Blues Festival on Saturday. It rained (although not directly on us), and I was pretty much the weakest link, at least instrumentally. But still—fun!

I'll post pictures as soon as I can get them from my MIL's camera.

Did I mention that the in-laws are in town? I make jokes, but thank God for them and their excellent babysitting.

Lives of the Poets (Part 1)

2008-09-14T14:12:00.004-05:00

Every now and then I have this conversation with a poet acquaintance of mine in which I say something about the unseemly and pathetic clawing after crumbs that is the business end of poetry, and he says, "Well, if you're just writing poetry for what you can get out of it, you should quit." And then what I want to say is: Why is it bad to want to be rewarded for your work? Why is it bad to want to make a decent living? Take care of your family? Make your mortgage payments?

Well, it just is. And if you were really a poet, you'd know better than to ask the question.

Not fully committed to the goals of FYE.

2008-09-03T07:24:00.003-05:00

I will not require their attendance at Party House, or the Ultimate Road Trip. Oh, well.

Kelley likes the new book.

2008-08-27T21:52:00.000-05:00

Thank God. It's been a ball-buster of a summer.

HIGH SEASON out in paperback

2008-06-29T16:30:00.001-05:00

Officially on 7/1, though I got my sample copies on Friday. I like the mm cover better than the hc cover. It's creepier, somehow.

Frogs

2008-06-29T14:50:00.003-05:00

Driving down to Madison yesterday we got caught in a freak hail-storm, complete with thunder, lightning, and me scanning the horizon for funnel clouds. Fortunately the new van seems not to have sustained any damage—the hail was marble-sized and appeared relatively soft. But people were seriously freaking out—pulling off the road and in a couple of instances getting into multi-car fender-benders. It was very odd. I was expecting a rain of frogs next, or maybe the rending of the earth—giant chasms opening in the road surface with flames shooting out of them. One really does get the sense that we're teetering on the edge of the apocalypse right now. Never in my life have I imagined that I'd find myself thinking about buying canned goods in bulk, just in case the shit hits the fan.

If They IM'd: Laura Bush and Michelle Obama

2008-06-14T14:13:00.000-05:00

Too funny.

A few videos for your viewing pleasure.

2008-06-11T14:10:00.002-05:00

I just figured out how to embed video. Mr. Technology, they call me.

Yes We Can

2008-06-11T14:09:00.001-05:00

No You Can't

2008-06-11T14:08:00.000-05:00

I'm Voting Republican

2008-06-11T14:02:00.001-05:00

GoBama.

2008-06-07T13:34:00.004-05:00

It's pretty obvious that McW and his staff don't really understand what's coming down the pipe at them (otherwise, how could they have thought the "green screen" speech was, you know, a good idea?). Fine. The longer McW underestimates Obama and tries to dismiss him as "naive" or "inexperienced," the more Obama will make him look like grandpa Simpson, escaped from the home.

The Summer That Wasn't

2008-06-06T18:59:00.000-05:00

Seriously. It's getting weird.

Blasts from the past.

2008-05-05T21:43:00.006-05:00

One of the coolest (and occasionally creepiest) things about the blog is that it's put me back in touch with people I haven't talked to or seen (or thought about, sometimes) for twenty or thirty years. On the cool side of the ledger, a nice note and archival photo from my old college buddy Doug Matthews. The fact that I actually got a degree says something about my consumptive/recuperative powers in those days, I guess. Not to mention the benign inattention of OU's faculty and administrators. It may have been technically impossible to flunk out for a brief period there, short of setting fire to the Dean's office.

Anyway, here's the photo. That's actually me, I'm pretty sure. Just out of the picture on the left are Chris Davis (upper, guitar) and Larry Anderson (lower, banjo). The venue is probably Bojangle's; we played there a lot.

Wish I still had that guitar: it's a '67 Martin D28, Brazilian rosewood. It never really sounded that great, but it'd be worth a chunk of change in the current market.

Photo and trip down memory lane thanks to Uncle Douger.

A note to my colleagues

2008-05-05T21:35:00.005-05:00

Sorry about that depart mental thing. It's not you; it's me.

Andy's right. Here's another bunny.

They call them departmental meetings

2008-05-03T10:32:00.002-05:00

because you always depart mental.

"Sleight of Hand," by Ten of Clubs

2008-04-30T21:27:00.002-05:00

If you like blazing guitar pyrotechnics a la Satriani (but with a less processed, more organic feel), fueled by some of the fattest, brownest tones since EVH and ladled thick as ham gravy over tasty swing and Latin grooves, this may be the CD for you. You can buy it here, or on iTunes.

Native Bay: A Review

2008-04-20T13:37:00.015-05:00

So, the lovely A________ and I went to Native Bay for our fifth anniversary dinner last night. If you're not from around here, Native Bay is a converted supper club perched on the edge of Lake Wissota, about a twenty-minute drive from Eau Claire. The restaurant has lived in its current incarnation for three or four years, and is now a nouvelle-trendy, small-food-big-plates place with a menu that emphasizes local organic ingredients. We've been there four or five times: we like the idea of the place, there's a very pleasant view of the lake, and the interior is done up in an interesting contemporary/organic/industrial style with lots of bamboo and recycled wood: as Eau Claire goes, it wins the ambiance prize hands down (second place is Mona Lisa's, which is noisy and feels kind of cavernous and hectic in comparison).

You can't really have a meal at Native Bay (appetizers, two entrees, wine by the glass, coffee and dessert) for under $100, and it's not unusual to hit $150 with tip. Last night we ordered a bottle of champagne and so were well above that. Our past experiences with Native Bay have been, well, interesting: there's been a certain unevenness to the cooking, shall we say, a consistently annoying stinginess to the portions, and the service has been excellent to spacey/inattentive. Still, we're full of optimism. We have a babysitter! It's spring at last! Neither of us is completely exhausted! So, we arrive and are greeted and seated quickly: nice table by the window, bottle of Veuve Cliquot on ice, per my request. All good so far. We're given water, apparently free of charge! And we wait. For something like fifteen minutes. For the waiter to finally get around to opening and serving the bottle of champagne for us; I'm about to do it myself when he arrives at last. Not good. We wait maybe another fifteen-to-twenty to place our orders—there are a grand total of two other tables seated in the dining room at this point, so it's anybody's guess why it's taking so long. Eventually, a girl strolls past with a basket of bread, from which she's dispensing 2"x3" slices with a pair of tongs. We flag her down. The lovely A_________, ravenous by now, asks for TWO pieces. Bread girl seems shocked, but forks them over. She does not return. We wait again.

At long last, the appetizers arrive. Yay! Food! We ordered three (I know—big spenders): a pork tenderloin medallion dish, a walleye-cake dish, and a carrot-apple soup. The soup is fine (if smallish), although the lovely A_________ makes a carrot-ginger soup that flat kicks its ass. The pork medallions (two of them for $9) are roughly the size of fifty-cent pieces, served on dense, spongy little pancakes (made of I-don't-know-what; something buckwheat-like), and drizzled with a brownish sauce. The pork is a bit dry, and barely warmer than room temperature. Worse, it's utterly without flavor of any sort, almost as though it's been intentionally de-flavorized, somehow. Because it's a restaurant that takes itself a little too seriously, there's no freaking salt and pepper on the table. The little pancakes taste like, well, pancakes, but chewier. The brown sauce tastes brown and earthy, which is to say, a bit like dirt. Not a promising start.

The walleye cakes (two of them, each about an inch-and-a-half square by 1/4" thick, also $9) are dense, greasy to the point of sogginess, and again served at approximately room temp. One appetizer out of three doesn't suck: a good average in baseball, not so great for a "fine dining" joint that runs fitty bones per plate.

Meanwhile, one table over, there's a small drama unfolding: a woman is unhappy with her meal and has sent it back to the kitchen. Shortly thereafter it returns (via waitress), apparently unaltered. The woman seems distressed; she's holding the plate and making little gestures of annoyance at the food. There's much discussion back and forth, which I would pay money to be able to hear. The woman and her husband/date depart soon after. They're not smiling. Is this an omen, I wonder? Perhaps. I pour another tot of champagne.

Post appetizers, there's another lengthy wait. Then, finally, the entrees arrive: the lovely A_________ has ordered a lamb dish, I've gotten a beef tenderloin. Mine is fine: a reasonably generous portion squatting in a sort of mashed-potato foxhole, surrounded by a decorative drizzle of sauce with some wine-soaked mushrooms. Nicely cooked, seasoned and presented, but pricey at $32. The lamb, though, is small and a bit stringy: three thin slices half-hidden in some artfully arranged garnish. It's also barely warmer than the table, say. I resolve to mention this to the waiter, but he does not return to ask how things are. The lovely A_______ , now faint from hunger, eats the cold, tendinous lamb anyway. I give her several bites of tenderloin, generous soul that I am.

The waiter returns at last, as we're finishing up. "And how was everything?" he asks. Past tense.

"The lamb was cold," I say. "But we were hungry so we ate it anyway."

Waiter looks unhappy. "I'll go check with the kitchen," he says. He returns shortly, positively despondent now, with an offer of free desserts. I'm guessing they're coming out of his paycheck.

"Fine," we say. We're still hungry, after all. The desserts arrive after another wait (a bread pudding and a coffee creme brulee), and are again a mixed bag: the creme brulee is fine if unremarkable, but the bread pudding is, in the lovely A_______'s words, lame.

In all, it was a delightful and romantic evening (I'd be happy sitting on a rock, as long as the lovely A__________ was nearby), interrupted by a disappointing and expensive meal. I think we've given up on Native Bay, though considering the sparseness of the Friday night crowd I'm guessing we're not the only ones who've reached that conclusion. Who knows—maybe the universe will come to its senses and Native Bay will revert to supper club in the not-too-distant future (the sooner the better, as far as I'm concerned). When/if that happens, I'll take the large order of prime rib, please.

Did I mention the rat?

2008-04-19T16:18:00.003-05:00

The critter on the right is the rat. Except it's really a wolf, apparently.

Still more gear porn

2008-04-19T16:02:00.006-05:00

The guitar is a Fender Vintage Hot Rod '52 Tele. It's basically a riff on the thin-skin American Vintage line, with a 9.5 radius, medium-jumbo frets, satin finish on the back of the neck, slightly hotter than normal bridge pickup and a Seymour Duncan Vintage Mini Humbucker at the neck. Great playing, great sounding guitar—found it used here in town for about $450 less than it would've cost new from Musician's Fiend. The amp is a Peavey Windsor Studio. I replaced the stock EL34 power tube with a JJ KT66; I also replaced the stock speaker with a greenback. This thing comes with a bunch of bells and whistles for just under $400: effects loop, built-in attenuator, master volume, standby switch, external speaker jack, line out, ground lift, decent reverb. The sound is pretty amazing considering the modest price and the size of the box. Rich harmonics and tons of natural sustain with the KT66, even w/ single coils. Very nice little Chinese class-A amp for practice or small club gigging; will give the fancy boutique amp makers something to worry about, I'm guessing. Beats the crap out of the Epi Jr., of course, and arguably much better than the boxy, muddy sound of many Blues Juniors. The only drawback is that it's weirdly ugly, like all Peavey amps.

More house stuff

2008-04-19T15:46:00.002-05:00

Well, we made it through the hideous winter of '07-'08 without any major catastrophes, house-wise, touch wood. There were a few issues, though: cold floors on the 1st floor (very cold in the basement), very cold along the west wall of H's room and our room, freezing of radiator pipes on west wall, occasional sounds of bats near east dormer, west wall of H's room and in an interior wall on the 3rd floor, very cold mudroom/entry, occasional dampness in SW corner of basement, and, just lately, apparent water infiltration above master bath ceiling. We've already addressed the biggest of these, partially at least: we've had the box sills and west wall "dense-packed" with blown cellulose, which seems to have made a significant difference already. We've also put up insulating blinds on the big living room window; enough with the free neighborhood show, already. Next, a basket of relatively small jobs: 60' cedar fence along w property line, concrete patio/landing for back steps, new front porch/steps, new front walk, general landscaping of front yard, etc. The bat guys are scheduled to start work next week, as are the roof-repairers and maybe the landscapers, along the w property line. So, progress. We're waiting for the first real warm day to have dinner on our fabulous screen porch. Tomorrow, maybe.

The end of the world

2008-04-19T11:07:00.004-05:00

I'm not usually much given to apocalyptic thinking: too self-absorbed, probably. In fact, I haven't really felt much in the way of pervasive dread since, I don't know, the Reagan administration, back when it seemed like they were bent on instigating a nuclear exchange with the Soviets. But lately the news has been so intensely and entirely bad—climate, economy, decline of the dollar, spiraling national debt, peak oil, bird flu, creeping fascism (those KBR detention facilities, the shiny new railroad cars with built-in shackles), anti-intellectualism, the immense stupidity of our political discourse, English 110, you name it—it's hard not to wonder what sort of world our kids will inherit. The climate thing is especially worrisome: it really seems that we've unleashed an incremental version of hell on the world; it's going to be bad, but there's no way to know how bad. Creeping fascism is worrisome, too: you have to think Cheney and Rove will do whatever it takes to keep a non-Hillary Democrat out of the White House.

And yet we're buying a mini-van that gets 21 MPG. There's something absurdly optimistic in that gesture. Or fatalistic, maybe. Call it Easter Island syndrome, I guess.

As we know it

2008-04-19T11:04:00.002-05:00

Apparently we're getting one of these sumbitches. In blue. Ack.

Reviving the blog

2008-04-17T13:28:00.003-05:00

It's been hibernating since January, pretty much. Time to poke it with a stick.

The Blogspace

2008-02-19T08:18:00.007-06:00

You forget, when there are no comments, how public it is. Not that one ever thinks of blogs as private, of course—long lost cousins, ex-girlfriends, old high school buddies and folks from crimespace have all found me here—but one does suffer a bit under the illusion that they're personal, as in separate in some fundamental way from one's work life. I know that some businesses and church organizations track their employees' online activities, but I had no idea we were doing it now in academia.

Ah well. Here's the bunny again. Apparently his name is Stewart.

Cute!

Here's a picture of a bunny.

2008-02-19T08:01:00.004-06:00

Cute!

Winter

2008-01-19T16:13:00.000-06:00

I'm tired of it already. Let's try something else.

Rust Street house sold

2007-12-31T17:07:00.000-06:00

Closed this a.m. Not a bad way to end 2007.

Boston Globe

2007-12-26T12:03:00.000-06:00

Not sure what the header means, but they ran a nice little blurb on 12/23.

A debut with feathers

"High Season" (St. Martin's) is a campy debut mystery set in Provincetown. What impresses Kate Mattes, owner of Kate's Mystery Books, is how well author Jon Loomis captures the town in all its out-there glory - from the drag queens to the fishermen to the denizens on Commercial Street. Clearly, Loomis, who lives in Wisconsin, made the most of his time during two fellowships at the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown.

On edit: I'm sure FAWC's official position is all congratulations, but it's worth noting that their summer teaching program turned down my offer to teach a mystery writing class for free. For free! That means that if the class filled they'd make around $6,000 clear; if the class didn't fill but had enough students to run, they'd still make plenty of dough because they wouldn't have to pay me. Essentially, they declined a donation of my time worth as much as $6,000 during what is apparently a financially stressed period for them (big deficits, shrinking donations). That's what a bunch of snobby assholes they are. Still, I love the place. Sort of.

Boston Glob

2007-12-18T18:29:00.001-06:00

Review this coming Sunday, apparently. Just in time for Christmas. Not.

Bat II

2007-12-13T09:36:00.000-06:00

So, bat hides all day in the 1" gap between the bathroom cabinet and the wall. We don't know this. Bat waits until about 1:00 a.m., after the lovely A_______ has finished grading papers and come to bed and turned the lights out, and then scritchy-flutters out of his crack and into the bedroom, where he flies mad loops around the ceiling, one end to the other. Bat is bigger, seems to me, than your standard brown bat. About the size of a pterodactyl, in fact. So the lovely A_______ trots downstairs, more or less to hide; very sensible, given her condition. I watch bat for a minute, hoping he'll land. He does, perching on the top of the window molding where he can keep an eye on me. He looks like a miniature gargoyle up there, all ears and weird, backwards elbows. I go downstairs to get gloves and something to catch him in: a pillowcase.

Back in the bedroom, it's obvious the pillowcase is useless: bat is up too high, the pillowcase opening's too small and floppy. I grab a towel and fling it at bat, hoping to knock him down. He orbits frantically around the room, doing these wobbly figure-eights. I pick up the towel and give it a good locker-room snap as bat flies past. A miracle occurs: I make good contact, bat's furry-leathery self splats against the wall and bounces onto the floor, stunned. Decent wingspan, as I said. I toss the towel over him before he can recover, scoop him up and hustle him outside, where I release him. He flutters out into the night, takes a hard left turn, and presumably flies right back to his nest in our eaves, along with fifty or sixty or so of his cousins. Did I mention the bat guy said they can't do much about a bat colony 'til spring?

Bat

2007-12-12T14:20:00.000-06:00

So, I wake up at about 3:30 last night to small, rustling sounds in our bedroom. At first I think it's the cat, farting around; he does a fair amount of running up and down the stairs, clawing the rug, etc. in the middle of the night. "George," I say. "Shut the fuck up." More rustling, about a foot from my head. I look down and a good-sized bat is climbing up the side of our box-spring, presumably trying to get into bed with us (warm in there). "What is it?" says the lovely A_________, half-awake now. "Bat," I say. Hilarity ensues. We jump out of bed, turn on the light. Bat flies in wild loops around the room, disappears. We go downstairs to sleep on the couch (it's a sectional, thank God). A________ drifts right off, but not me. I'm wide awake, listening for more weird shit. Meanwhile, the cat's doing his nocturnal comedy routine, charging around. It's really the cat this time: I can see him. Bat still nowhere to be found as of this posting. With any luck he's crawled back into the wall via one of the missing light fixtures/smoke-detectors. I turned the big walk-in closet inside out: he's not in there. Called the bat removal guy: turns out there's not much we can do 'til spring. The little fuckers are supposed to be hibernating, but tend to seek warmth when it gets really cold in their exterior wall. Ack.

HIGH SEASON to be reviewed by the Boston Globe

2007-12-07T08:00:00.000-06:00

on 12/16, they tell us. Better late than never.

HIGH SEASON makes the WaPo's "Best Books of 2007"

2007-12-05T15:06:00.000-06:00

Scroll down to "mysteries/thrillers." They mangled the description a bit (okay, a lot), but who cares. It's still a nice thing.

Offer

2007-12-03T13:02:00.000-06:00

So, we've gotten an offer on the Rust St. house, thank God. It's a tad on the low side, but we're coming back with a counter that should be acceptable. It is, as everyone tells us, a buyer's market.

The good news is that if it all goes through it'll free up a good bit of cash. We can restore a bit of the account we've been drawing from to finish up the Garfield house, and still have a great Christmas.

Dear Santa,

About that flat-screen TV. Please make it a Sharp Aquos; the one with the fast refresh rate.

Also, I'd really like one of those new Barber Trifecta fuzz boxes.

Thanks a million,

Jon

Good progressives don't buy used books online.

2007-11-14T18:30:00.000-06:00

It's not something that's affecting me at the moment (zero used copies currently on Amazon), but it's evidently pretty bad for the biz. Authors only get paid for new book sales, obviously, so the used book thing can really take a bite out of a writer's livelihood.

Buying used books at your neighborhood used book store is fine, apparently.

Moderation off.

2007-11-13T17:30:00.000-06:00

Comments back to normal. The recent weirdness outburst seems to have subsided, for now.

Amazon's taking orders again

2007-11-13T16:59:00.000-06:00

For your holiday book-buying needs. They say they'll ship on 12/4, but they should have them on the dock late this week. Which should mean they'll be able to ship late next week. I think.

3rd printing ordered.

2007-11-12T11:52:00.001-06:00

It makes sense—the 1st is completely sold out, the 2nd's already half sold between Amazon's order of 350 and other online sellers' likely orders. Store demand is probably in the range of a couple of hundred, too, and we're not even talking holiday shopping yet, really. Bet we're into a 4th by Christmas, but you never know.

From the Cape Codder

2007-11-11T08:35:00.000-06:00

The Cape Codder is a pretty good little weekly paper out of Orleans. The link may not work:

Provincetown sleuth: Local author gains national attention

By Steve Desroches

Provincetown, Mass. - A televangelist is found dead on Herring Cove Beach wearing a multi-colored muumuu and high heels and a Provincetown detective who gets queasy at the sight of blood is not so hot on the case.

In a town that is stranger than fiction this tale may sound vaguely familiar, like it actually happened, but it is the premise for author Jon Loomis’ fun and campy Provincetown-based mystery “High Season.”

The poet’s brilliant first crack at fiction introduces us to Frank Coffin, a former Baltimore homicide detective who returned to his native Provincetown after starting to have panic attacks at crime scenes in tough and gritty Baltimore. The return home was just what Coffin needed, as his new beat’s most sensational crimes are limited to “break-ins, bicycle thefts and domestic disputes.”

After almost a decade on the job in freaky and funky Provincetown in walks Melinda Merkin, wife of homophobic, fire-and-brimstone televangelist Ron Merkin, to report her husband missing. But there’s a secret, the good Reverend has a penchant for wearing women’s clothing. Shortly thereafter, Merkin, clad in over-the-top drag, is found dead, strangled with a taffeta scarf.

Coffin and his partner, tough talking lesbian Officer Lola Winters, enlist the help of townies to help solve the crime. But after interviewing fishermen, drag queens and the eccentrics that stroll up and down Commercial Street, Coffin realizes that the Merkin case is not an isolated incident. There is a murderer loose in the town and it’s up to Coffin to find the killer before he strikes again.

Meanwhile, Coffin’s girlfriend believes she has a stalker, his mother is the Alzheimer’s ridden loudmouthed bully of the town’s nursing home and the townspeople are all busy playing armchair detectives in a town where gossip is a blood sport.

Loomis spent a couple of years in Provincetown as a poetry fellow at the prestigious Fine Arts Work Center. Though now lives in Wisconsin, where he is a poetry fellow at the University of Wisconsin, Loomis accurately captures the lovably twisted character of Provincetown. If you’ve never visited Provincetown, you’ll love this story for its clever twists and excellent writing. If you live in or spend a lot of time in Provincetown, you’ll chuckle as Loomis reveals some of the town’s worst kept secrets.

For instance, though not mentioned by name it’s obvious that the Merkins are in Provincetown for Fantasia Fair, the annual October festival where cross dressers come to celebrate. The locals lovingly call the cross dressers “tall ships” because as the mostly straight men unsteadily walk down Commercial Street in high heels they sway like tall ships in the harbor. Unlike drag queens, “tall ships” shy away from the glamour and settle more on suburban practicality in their dress. Through Coffin, Loomis translates what many locals say in private.

“Drag queens he could understand, sort of; there was something tongue-in-cheek about the whole thing, all that glitter and flash, a kind of burlesque-on/homage-to the whole idea of glamour in all its blowzy, tittering goofiness. The straight cross-dressers were harder to figure out – the just plain transvestites everyone in town called tall ships. The tall ships tended to be large men who strode up and down Commercial Street in plus-sized tweed skirts, support hose, and pumpkin-colored lipstick; craggy faced and lonely-looking men with dispirited wigs and five o’clock shadows poking through pancake makeup. Sometimes they had their wives, even their kids in tow. They reminded Coffin of his Aunt Connie after she’d been through several rounds of chemotherapy.”

The dark comedic mystery is a veritable road map of real Provincetown institutions, both visible and hidden, though in many cases given fake names, much like a literary witness protection program. Coffin and Winters sling back coffee at the Tip Top Diner, which is obviously Tips for Tops’n, a favorite townie breakfast place in town. Billy’s Oyster Shack sounds like a mix between Clem and Ursie’s and the Governor Bradford bar; and Dawn Vermillion, a fictional drag queen who sees all and knows all, resembles popular hometown drag star Pearlene Dubois.

Since its publication at the end of September, “High Season” has been creating buzz, likely to get louder now that the New York Times Book Review named it as an editor’s choice.

Loomis, who previously published two books of poetry “Vanitas Motel” and “The Pleasure Principal,” is working on two new books – a mystery titled “Mating Season” and a memoir called “King of Hearts.” His next mystery is set to come out in January 2008.

“High Season” is much like Provincetown, a gleeful mélange of joyous contradictions and peculiar characters in a community with a dark underbelly and glittery joie de vivre.

- Cape Codder

Photo from Volume One

2007-11-09T18:18:00.000-06:00

Eau Claire's local alt paper. They did a little story about the book.

Photo credit to Kim Acheson. Not his fault I look like that.

3rd printing on the horizon. Maybe.

2007-11-08T15:34:00.000-06:00

Looks like Amazon's ordered 350 of the 1,000-book second printing, so a third (perhaps larger) printing is reasonably likely. So the fabulous K suggests, anyway.

WPR/Spectrum West

2007-11-06T16:03:00.000-06:00

So, I taped a little radio interview today out at WPR, which is next to the Shipshape car wash. Which is shaped like a ship. It was fun; nice people there. Should be on shortly after Thanksgiving.

Going to paperback.

2007-11-05T11:47:00.000-06:00

In July. The fabulous K just informed me. Don't tell anybody, or they won't buy the hardcover.

Richmond Times-Dispatch

2007-11-05T10:20:00.000-06:00

They liked it:

Brimstone-breathing, homophobic televangelist Ron Merkin has shed his gospel armor for a more interesting outfit: a pink and yellow muumuu. And he has also departed this vale of tears, strangled with a raspberry taffeta scarf.

In Jon Loomis' debut novel, High Season (304 pages, St. Martin's Minotaur, $23.95), Provincetown, Mass., police detective Frank Coffin must investigate the pastor's passing amid the quirkiness of Provincetown, where the large gay community lives in mostly peaceful co-existence with old-time fishing families -- and where the full-timers disdain the hordes of summer tourists (but not their money).

Coffin suffered a mental meltdown as a homicide detective in Baltimore and had hoped, when he returned to his Cape Cod hometown, that he'd never have to work a murder case again. But events intervene, and he and his partner, officer Lola Winters, track a killer who's not content to stop with one victim.

At once hilarious and unsettling, "High Season" combines a complex story with a cast of colorful eccentrics to create an exciting first installment in a projected series. It's a model mystery, told in winning fashion.

HS reviewed in Bay Windows

2007-11-02T18:01:00.000-05:00

which bills itself as New England's largest GLBT newspaper:

High Season
Jon Loomis
St. Martin’s Press

You may have heard this on the news: Provincetown has straight people, too. Yes! This Cape Cod murder mystery (written by a straight man from the Midwest, no less) looks at P’town through the eyes of a straight sheriff who’s returned to the seaside resort after he couldn’t hack it as a homicide detective in Baltimore. His dreams of a relatively uneventful slide towards retirement are derailed when a prominent anti-gay preacher is found dead on the beach - in a dress! The wacky beginning is something of a red herring, as the religious hypocrisy is just a bit of color, and the book has the faintly dark tinge you’d expect from a police procedural, especially when the detective has to contend with several more murders, along with his messy personal life. Some of the supporting characters are a bit vague (and the sardonic take on mildly homophobic state troopers is a well-meant touch, but would Cape and Islands Staties really be so ostentatiously bewildered by P’town?), but the central sheriff is a compelling creation, and Loomis’s slow unveiling of small town corruption and dirty politics feels right on. Loomis steadily raises the tension and keeps you guessing almost till the end, making High Season a fun read.

This is a very good thing; should help out a lot with word-of-mouth in the GLBT community.

Update: I am a bit puzzled by the fact that no reviewer has said much about Lola, Frank's sidekick. I'm not sure, but I think she's fairly unique in mainstream crime fiction as a strong, sympathetic lesbian character. Who, as our friend Laura said, "kicks ass."

House-o-ganza 2

2007-11-01T16:41:00.000-05:00

So, Jim and Travis are wrapping up the entry-way: we should have the new door ready to install tomorrow, maybe. The counter guy came and installed the Cambria today: it took him something like forty-five minutes: all the pieces are perfectly fit and formed. It's really pretty amazing stuff, and quite handsome. The Cambria/cherry/stainless combo is working better than I pictured it, so that's good. Still to do in the kitchen: hook up gas to stove and electric to range hood; install dishwasher, sink and dispose-all; screen and final gloss-coat on floors. Dave, Jim and Travis are finishing up the kitchen/pantry trim as I write this.

Other stuff: Dan's got two coats of our fabulous terra-cotta color on the dining room; it looks pretty great. He'll move into the living room as soon as Jim and Travis finish up and move their gear out. The plumber's got the tub and sink re-installed in the 2nd fl bath: once the washer/dryer are installed we'll be pretty much done in there. The tile guy comes tomorrow, maybe: he should be able to whip right through the installation. God knows what it's all going to cost. Dave's looking to trade some labor for Mr. & Mrs. Knut's washer/dryer and dishwasher, which sounds like a good deal to me. We need to do a few other little things like call the phone and cable companies, order light fixtures, etc. Long story short, we're hoping to move in about ten days.

St. Martin's orders a reprint.

2007-10-31T14:15:00.001-05:00

A small one (1,000 copies), but still. Nice.

Sold out at walmart.com

2007-10-31T00:05:00.000-05:00

Seriously. I mean, not that they were stocking many to begin with, most likely. But still.

Sold out at B&N, too.

2007-10-30T09:37:00.000-05:00

No one could have anticipated that a little comic whodunit set in P'town would actually sell.