Post Partum

Greetings from San Francisco!

My new book just came out a little over two weeks ago. I'm tired. I'd honestly forgotten how weird the process is. It's only my third book, but maybe it's like that whole cliche about labor --  there's a sort of amnesia that takes over, because if you remembered how painful it was, you'd never do it again.

I think this may be true.

Here's the book:

(that's my cat, Ghost!)

I'm not sure how to describe the process of being published. It's both anticlimactic and overwhelming. Writing a novel and getting it ready for publication is a big, long and complicated project. And these days, an author's work isn't done when the book is turned in, the final proof pages approved. No. You write articles. Blog posts. Do interviews. Live events. I seem to be constantly driving up and down the California coast (another trip to Los Angeles and then the next week, Lake County, for some really fun events). I like doing all this stuff. I like talking to people. But somewhere in here, I'm also supposed to be writing another book, and it's hard to find the focus and emotional energy to do it all.

You publish a book, and somewhere inside, there's this expectation that you're going to get some big accolade and recognition for it. Reviews! Rewards! Sales! Or perhaps a cookie basket, or balloon bouquet.

Instead, what I got is a deadline for another book that I'm not quite sure how I'll manage. But I guess that's the reward, too. I get to write another book.

Lisa...Sunday...

Obscene Gestures of the Ancient Greek

I saw something this week in The New York Times that made me think.  As opposed to cry, gnash my teeth, or curse the night.  

It was about hand gestures of the Italians.  There are hundreds they say, many coming via ancient Greeks who’d settled in southern Italy—which should come as no surprise to fans of such historic classics as the Aeneid and My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

Having been raised in an Italian neighborhood in Pittsburgh and now living in Greece, I clicked on the newspaper’s accompanying video, looking forward to a meaningful trip down memory lane.  Nice piece for the uninitiated, but virtually useless for anyone trying to follow the actual guts of a colorful, down home conversation among the locals.  It’s like wearing a pin-stripe suit to a (non-Yankee) baseball game and expecting to fit in with the fans in the bleachers.

Even if you don’t understand the language, knowing a few of the more, shall we say, earthy hand gestures will enrich your understanding of the people and possibly alert you to some situations (and people) you should avoid.

For example, if you happen to see two Greek men waving at each other, hands extended straight out from their shoulders, it’s not a “Howdy, my friend, how you doing?” moment.  Nor do I suggest adopting the gesture as a quaint way of saying “hello” to Greeks. 

So, as a public service for those seeking a less Politically Correct report than the Times’ coverage on local gestures, here are my top five or so obscene Greek gestures…as illustrated by my capable ancient Greek assistant, an A(n)donis in his own right. 

Let’s start with the “waving hand” gesture I just mentioned. It even has a name, the moutza. You’ll quite often see it serve as the precursor to a road rage incident when flashed by the victim of one of Greece’s finer driver’s incomprehensible decisions, such as passing a car in the face of on-coming traffic only to cut back in line barely inches from the soon to be moutza flashing other driver’s front bumper, running a stop sign, turning without warning, or otherwise demonstrating that the common sense rules of the road don’t apply to that driver. 

The moutza is the classic, non-verbal Greek method of expressing that you are the dumbest S.O.B. to walk the earth…or have done an award winning stupid act.

And for the really stupid  (acts and people), there’s the double moutza, though that’s rarely expressed in a driving situation except by a driver deserving of the double moutza himself… or herself.  For, yes, even women are known to flash the moutza on occasion.

Another gesture, one rarely expressed by a woman, is the one-handed chop in the direction of your own genital area or, if really incensed, a two-handed chop.  I say rarely by a woman because the dialog accompanying the act generally includes a reference “to my balls,” and is meant to convey, “I don’t give a damn about your opinion. Don’t waste my time with nonsense.”

There is a unisex version available for those so inclined.  It’s a one- or two-handed chop in the direction of the bottom of your shoes accompanied by a phrase roughly meaning “I write your words on the bottom of my old shoes because they’re so meaningless.”

Hmmm, bet you’re still wondering why the “All the news that’s fit to print” folks didn’t take their story in this direction.

To continue.  You’ll often see in modern Greece the “up yours” sign of one hand clasping the inside of the bent other arm at the elbow, or the middle finger salute, but purest Greeks regard them as coarser gestures corruptive of the classic Greek. “Up yours is Italian,” said my expert, and “this” flashing me the finger “is now part of America’s political culture” despite its Greco-Roman origins.

For the really hard-core classic Greek gesture equivalent to our revered middle finger, my friend demonstrated the time honored…drum roll…open handed, bent middle finger. 

Jim Croce (1943-1973)

A CLOSING WORD OF CAUTION.  Though many of these gestures are exchanged among friends in a teasing, playful way, the indiscriminate use of them can be hazardous to one’s health.  To paraphrase Jim Croce’s great lyric, “You don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind, and you don’t flash the finger at the old Lone Ranger unless you want to end up skinned.”

Jeff—Saturday

Ian Brady; Smoke and Mirrors

                                                          Brady at the time of his arrest

Child murderer Ian Brady walked out of his mental health tribunal last week because “I’ve listened to this ad nauseam. I know it by heart.”

That was the first time since 1965 that Brady had been seen in public.  First time for 40 years that his voice had been heard.  And nothing he said was worth listening to unless you enjoy the macabre circus of an insane man taunting a nation.

He was actually trying to prove himself sane enough to go back to prison from his room at Ashworth hospital.

.

He went back to the tribunal yesterday and spoke for a very long time about many subjects but the thrust of his argument seemed to be that he has just been acting all these years, studying the masters to act the part of the insane -using the Stanislavski Method.

A panel member asked him to clarify who Stanislavski was and received a blistering tirade for their trouble.

The tribunal found him insane, so he is back in hospital, back on his nasal tube, being force fed.

The decision was much to the relief of the families of the victims and their argument is sound but emotive- - the kids he killed wanted to live, but he didn't let them, Brady wants to die, we should not let him. The ruling was of insanity, and they came to the ruling very quickly as he was getting so much publicity.

The fact that his history speaks for itself - he and Myra Hindley killed and tortured five children in a way too horrible to blog about. The scars of his crimes run very deep in this country. I blogged earlier about a colleague who had written about his partner in crime.

While she was alive the press had fun with their tit for tat, she was worse than me ... I repented but he didn’t.

They were sick people, full stop.

                                  

At Ashworth – while he is considered ‘insane’ therefore ill – they have to treat him.  He has been on hunger strike for ten years and is being fed through a nasal tube. I saw a photograph of him taken about eight  years ago, he had that gaunt ridden appearance of one calorie starved through lack of food or  an ongoing disease process. The image reported in the court drawings were of a plump-faced rather well nourished individual.  Then it came out, he is on hunger strike but a member of staff at Ashworth says he will eat toast if she makes it for him and will eat food ... just not in front of others.

                                      

                                                        Courtesy of the Daily Record. 

                                                    The artists impression of Brady in Court

Weird kind of hunger strike.

I’m sure it has been pointed out to him ‘ad nauseam’ that even the Scottish Prison Service has a duty of care.  They will still feed him in prison, indeed the death of any inmate, whatever the cause – (or within 24 hours of release) triggers a very expensive enquiry.

And much more publicity for Brady.

This little hearing has cost a quarter of a million pounds for the tax payer.

Once the decision of the panel was announced he then went into some further rants ... his ranting included his opinions that Maddie’s support is hysteria, that his crimes were nothing compared to those of Tony Blair, that Jamie Bulger’s killers should not have been jailed and so it went on. Praised suicide bombers for their admirable commitment.

His most quoted comment was that the torture and murder of Keith, John, Patricia, Edward and Lesley Anne was trivial compared to the crimes of Tony Blair.

                                    

                                             Jackie, his mental health advocate.

                                                  (Manchester evening news)

His mental health advocate, Jackie quoted Brady saying: “The evidence given by Ashworth was a rag-bag of prison rumour and irrelevant ancient history. I was expecting the result to be negative."

Going on to explain Brady's rather extreme view of the world she said. “Over the years Ian has written tens of thousands of letters. He gets a lot of mail.

“He will have arguments with people and strike up debating positions. Many people write to him and state arguments to him to prompt him to write in this way.”

“Ian has always indulged in playing mind games with people.”

“He regards his life like a game of chess where he cannot move the pieces himself, so he prods and prompts other people to do it for him.”

She has known him for 14 years and  has said he wants to end his life whatever way he can. But if he really wanted to end his life, he would have done so by now. With him, it's all smoke and mirrors.

I do worry about his mental health advocate. Brady’s psychiatrist changes every 18 months as he is a highly manipulative and clever man. So why has she been at his side for 14 years?  Last year there was uproar when she was detained by the police as she had claimed that Brady had given her a letter telling her where the last of the bodies that of Keith Bennett, was buried.

                                                                     

 

Winnie, never ever stopped searching the moors for her son, not until the day she died.

In Britain we were very familiar with Keith’s mum, Winnie, who died last year, she devoted her life to walking the Moors, looking for her son’s resting place, the website that now supports  the  cause of discovering his remains is a touching one – do not give us money, just tells us if you know something, it is the duty of the police to find Keith’s body, not the public.

This letter was  claimed to be in Jackie’s possession just before Winnie died,  Jackie claims she gave it back to Brady unopened although it had been in her possession for a few days...well she gave it back after it had made front page news and  an hour long documentary was made about it.

As I write this Brady is moaning that he had  stopped Hollywood high honchos from  cashing in on his case, while moaning that he had no money out of the situation.

He writes: “There have been more than 30 books on my case; five plays; a London musical; a comic; some playing cards. So that leaves very little to exploit.”

It is obvious that if he really wanted to starve himself to death, he could have done so by now, all it would take was a wee bit of effort on his part.  But as always all he wants is his moment of publicity, and it’s a pity that we gave him it.

Today’s rants are that there is no point in appealing against the decision, but  I am sure he will, as it will feed his fire of being Britain’s most hated man.

The one good thing that came out of all this was the gallery at the tribunal was almost empty.  He did not get the audience he craves. The families, in particular that of Keith Bennett have always been dignified and restrained in their response.

Alan Bennett would just like Brady to tell him where his brother’s body is, so he can bury him.

                                        

                                                       Keith Bennett, a wee kid, full of mischief.

Not much to ask is it.

Caro GB 05/072013

A Grave Matter

As an army coup in Egypt ended that country’s brief skirmish with democracy, South Africa awaits the passing of the man who was responsible more than anyone else for a democracy that has lasted twenty years.  Yes, it is imperfect and, yes, many new problems have arisen to replace the old, but the country has developed and grown a robust economy.  It is peaceful and relatively well-governed in comparison to most of the rest of Africa and much of the rest of the world.  Last week I was at a conference in Florida.  I was only asked about two issues in South Africa – was Oscar Pistorius guilty of murder and how is Nelson Mandela?

Well, the answer to the latter is that he is critical.  Despite on again, off again denials, he is on life support in a Pretoria hospital.  Despite prayers and vigils, it seems very unlikely that he will return home.  His illness overshadowed the visit of President Obama, who has not made Africa one of his priority areas in any case.  The president met with the Mandela family and said the right things, but any thought of a meeting with Madiba himself had to be dropped.

Yet even now, the family is in the midst of squabbles.  The tasteless issue around the Mandela Trust that I described in Don't live too long (perhaps I regret the rather prophetic title now) is in abeyance.  Even this family couldn’t contemplate suing an old man on his death bed for his money!  But a tit for tat has played out in the meanwhile, which would be farcical in any other circumstances.

Mandla Mandela

Mandela’s grandson, Mandla, who has expressed disgust over the Trust lawsuit to grab Mandela’s money, has been doing a bit of grabbing on his own account.  It seems that in 2011, he quietly authorized the removal of the bodies of three of Mandela’s children from the graveyard in Qunu to Mvezo where Nelson Mandela was born and where Mandla now holds court as clan chief.  It isn’t quite clear why he did this, but the speculation is that he sees Mvezo as a future shrine and tourist attraction for the great man and wished to have all the exhibits on ‘display’ there.  Mandla’s complex in the area is in the process of an expensive upgrade.  He complains that his side of the story hasn’t been heard, and his spokesman claimed that he has had “dirt thrown in his direction by all sorts of individuals baying for a few minutes of fame and media attention at his expense.”  A small issue is that Mandela has expressed the wish to be buried at Qunu with his relatives.  But then maybe he hasn’t kept up with their travels around the area.

Police and herse approach Mandla's complex at Mvezo

The three bodies on tour are those of Mandla Mandela’s father, Makgatho Mandela, who died in 2005; Mandela's first daughter, named Makaziwe, who died as an infant in 1948; and another son, Madiba Thembekile Mandela, who died in a traffic accident in 1969.

On Friday a court agreed with the majority of the family that the bodies should be returned to their former resting places while newspaper headlines cried:  ‘Mandla in Grave Trouble’ and ‘Mandla Faces Prosecution’.  Mandla appealed, but yesterday a court dismissed his objection as ‘frivolous’ and called his behavior ‘scandalous’.  Rather dramatically police and funeral workers left immediately for the Mvezo site, broke open the gates with a pick ax, exhumed the bodies, and carted them off to a morgue for forensics tests.  What those tests might be or why they should be required is unclear.  Maybe there is a concern that Mandla might have switched bodies?  The whole matter is at least as complex as the plot of DEADLY HARVEST, which has a few grave troubles of its own.

Meanwhile the wait for Mandela’s passing continues.  Hopefully, when that happens, he will be allowed at last to rest in peace.  And at one place.

Michael-Thursday

PS Happy Independence Day to all American readers!

Soap shopping

Before I write what I intended to write about I have to add a small note regarding a personal conquest. I promise never to do it again - which is easy because it is not likely to happen again anyway. You see I knocked Dan Brown out of the top crime/thriller spot on Amazon in Germany.

This might have something to do with his sales being divded into two - i.e. my buddy Dan warms the second and third place for some reason. If added toghter he would probably knock me down a notch. I am not complaining. I might even send Amazon an e-mail asking them to divide Dan Brown into three so that I can stay there for longer. 

Back to business:
he radio here has been broadcasting a series of programs about the development of consumerism. The presenter has gone to great lengths in researching the subject and the outcome is highly interesting and entertaining. Food for thought.

One of the things discussed is the entrance of brands onto the market place, bringing consistency to the table. Something I for one had never given any thought, i.e. that prior to brands purchases were a haphazard venture as quality varied greatly. Today the cabbage for your gruel was fresh – tomorrow limp. The poor were particularly bad hit as the merchants made sure to give the best of their stock to the rich and those with any power. After brands came along, quality was unchanged irrespective of where the purchase was made and prices were also more stable. A box of barns name oats does not provide the merchant any leeway to discriminate against those who have less. A barrel of oats does.

So the take on the evolution of consumerism in this program is very different from what one would expect. It focuses on the positive as well as the negative. I had expected a sermon about how we all buy much more than we need and how we throw away 30% of all food that is produced in the world. Which we do and which is something the future must fix. And since the future in my previous sentence is the present in this one, i.e. the one that follows, I guess I cannot shy away from doing my share. And guess what, the future that was the present in the previous sentence is now the past. This is how life passes you by.

 

Just so you do not think I am trying to get away from my responsibility regarding the waste of food, we had left over chicken for dinner. And we have not gone much to the grocery store these past few days. It must be admitted that this has more to do with our son being in the States on holiday than world waste. He does the grocery shopping for us.

Anyway, my son offered to ferry across stuff since he will not fill his suitcases on the trip. So I went on the internet to shop. I decided that I would buy soaps in every shop I made a purchase in order to fill the quota for free shipping. I thus looked at a lot of soaps during my time online. Which brings me full circle to the consumerism thing. What does a brand do when all competitors also have a brand? They try to discern themselves. Sometimes this leads to ridiculousness. Such as for the soaps. Some examples of manufacturers that were trying to stick out by being inventive in their fragrance lines:

Gin & Tonic (great for work)  -  Mud (great for farmers)  - 
Sex on the Beach (made in Mykonos)

And here are some trying to look different:

This looks like marble

When in doubt throw in some hearts and the left over orange peel from your lunchbox

I don't what they were shooting for but this soap looks like a chunk of Shamu from Sea World
 

 

And the ones that tried to come up with a catchy name:

Silk and Cyanide (tempting)   -  Suds of Time (oh the poetry...)

 

Finally here is one that insults a whole continent, soaps supposedly from Africa:

at loss for words



 

I did not buy any of the above - I do not want to smell like Gin and Tonic, the dead sea mammal look clashes with the colour scheme in my bathroom and I would be took scared to try a soap made of cyanide - even if it also contains silk.

 

Yrsa- Wednesday

Now for make-believe

This morning, like every morning, I sat at my laptop.  But a feeling of postpartum - the afterbirth anguish of sending my manuscript to my editor to New York - lingers. Every time - and this is the 14th book - it's as if I've sent a child off to college in New York. I know my child will change, become leaner, smarter, deeper and tighter but there's an ache of what more could I have done to prepare, to craft, to add that one word, phrase and oh, wait I need to change the last line feeling.

But it's c'est la vie time, suck it up and move on to the next story. So I stare at these paintings above my desk and enter the world of my next book.

Some of these might find there way in the story.

I wish I could lift my leg this high.

 Definitely there will be diaper changing in the next book.

 But if I said anymore I'd have to kill you.

So it's back to climbing the staircase of the story aiming for that beautiful skylight.
Cara - Tuesday

The best I can do during launch week

As I write this, it is Sunday of the week Blood Tango launched.  I have been so busy promoting it that I haven’t got two minutes to rub together to think of a proper blog topic, much less write one.  This is the fate of all mid-list authors: self-promotion.  So I have been running about the New York Metropolitan area doing what I can to get the book noticed.   So far, I have signed in a bookstore, attended a tango flash mob in Dag Hammarskjold Park, presided over a dinner with the dancers in said extravaganza, and presented at a library.

Truth be told, I enjoyed it all immensely.   Many writers, most of whom started much earlier than I, lament having to stand up and talk about their work.  But having spent two and a half decades of my life traveling around the world speaking to business groups and marketing my ability to do so, public speaking suits me.  It makes me feel sure of myself, which writing novels never does.

Don’t get me wrong, I prefer writing stories to any other work.  I waited so long for my fiction to be published that I still feel as if I’m in wonderland, especially during a week like this.  It’s just that writing stories takes every cell in my brain and every blood drop in my heart.  Talking about a book after the fact may be far less soul-satisfying, but it is a whole lot simpler.

Given the above, my post for this week will have to be part of a work in progress.  I am preparing a series of photos of Buenos Aires for my website.  If you have not seen the ones of Potosí  that I put up, matched with quotes from City of Silver, please take a look at the Photos page of www.annamariaalfieri.com.  The architecture in that city at 13,500 ft. is one of the marvels of the world.

The photos of Blood Tango’s locations in Buenos Aires will also be matched with quotes from the text.  This requires rereading the now printed book and selecting the right images from the hundred plus I snapped while in Buenos Aires in January of 2012.  Here is what I have so far:

“…nineteenth century buildings of scale and grace had earned the city its sobriquet—Paris of the South.”  Page 3

“If the rabble decided to bring their outrage to the seat of government, they would have only a few blocks to march to the Casa Rosada….”  Page 11.

“In their hovels in the villas miserias around the factories on the periphery, the poor rejoiced over the parting gifts Perón had announced over the radio…”  Page 45.

“...he accompanied Strade and his coterie of magnates down the regal staircase to the front door and saw them off.”  Page 99.

Next week, back to normal—whatever that is.

Annamaria - Monday