Fiction writer, short stories, novels, blogs, and other writing.
Personal blogs.
Approximately 140 million books have been published in all of modern history. Between 600,000 and 1 million new books are published each year. This year I am on track to read more than 100 books, but in a normal year I read about 50 or so. At that rate, if all new publication ceased, it would take me about 2.8 million years to read every published book.
I might have to pick up the pace somewhat.
A number of years ago my best friend, who I was living with at the time, recommended I read Robert B. Parker’s Spenser novels. He and his father were both fans, and knowing my sensibilities, he thought I, too, would enjoy them.
He was correct. I picked one almost at random from the bookstore shelf within a few days. I bought many more after that, soon owning nearly the entire series. Time and circumstances prevented me from completing my collection, though, and there remain five I still haven’t read, nor have I read Parker’s Jesse Stone or Sunny Randall novels.
Spenser, for those of you who don’t know, is a Boston-based private investigator who solves crimes with the help of his best friend, a career criminal named Hawk, his life partner, psychiatrist Susan Silverman, and Lt. Martin Quirk and Sgt. Frank Belson of the Boston PD.
Spenser stands somewhat apart from other literary private detectives, at least those from his origins in the 1970s, in that he is very clearly a tough guy who doesn’t fall prey to masculine stereotypes. He understands the equal value of a physical workout and a night at the ballet. He treats women as equals. He’s a gourmet cook. He knows not every crime can be solved with his fists. Spenser, truly, was a thinly-disguised version of Parker himself, with many elements of Parker’s life, from his wife to his dogs, bleeding into his fictional world in one way or another.
Spenser, channeling his creator, is also a razor-sharp wit. Parker’s ability to write dialogue was far and away his greatest strength, and it was a rare case when I didn’t laugh out loud at least once while reading his characters’ words.
Parker loved Boston, too. The locations in his novels weren’t fictional, but were places he himself had visited while writing. It was said that the best thing to happen to a restaurant was for Robert B. Parker to dine there, as its appearance in his books led to a notable bump in business.
Parker’s work was popular for his entire career, starting with the first book, “The Godwulf Manuscript,” in 1973, all the way to “Sixkill” in 2011. The series even spawned the TV show from which I got this blog’s title, starring Robert Urich as Spenser and Avery Brooks as Hawk. While the books became somewhat formulaic as Parker got older, he can be forgiven that, given how many other strengths they had.
Parker died, quite literally, at his writing desk, the way many writers wish they could go. Four books were published posthumously, as well as one he left incomplete. He left behind, it goes without saying, an impressive body of literature and the legacy of an incredible work ethic.
I do intend to read those last five Spenser novels, plus Parker’s other two series. I’ll probably wait until 2021 to so, though. I have, after all, set myself a rather ambitious reading goal for this year.
I have been a fan of Doctor Who for many years, dating back to when I was buying classic stories on VHS. I’ve seen every episode of the new series, too, and have enjoyed many of them. But my fandom goes beyond just the TV series. I have read numerous books and comics, and I have a number of the audio dramas that Big Finish produces. It’s the latter that I wish to discuss.
These audios are very much like the classic TV series, starring many actors in stories structured similarly to the old show. I purchased a small number of these audio plays over the years, taking advantage of sales that Big Finish would hold from time to time. But after moving to North Carolina, I forgot I had most of them, primarily because my day job requires a healthy amount of mental energy and concentration and I couldn’t listen to them at work.
The coronavirus quarantine has given me a lot of extra time, and as a result I’ve gone back to listen to the ones I purchased five years ago. I had only listened to them once, and in most cases couldn’t remember anything about them. I’m delighted to say that they are very, very good. Top-notch acting, writing, and producing makes for stories as good as anything seen on TV. I’ve enjoyed what I own so much that I purchased a few more, and I’m excited to dive into them soon. And with a library of titles that numbers in the hundreds, I am certain to find many more I could enjoy.
And now that I have a decent number of writing credits under my belt, it could be time soon to revisit my dream of writing one of these scripts myself.
My grandmother was a voracious reader, owning literal closets full of paperback murder mysteries and thrillers (the apple, it seems, falls quite close to the tree). Her favorite writer, by far, was Agatha Christie. She had dozens of her novels. All of them? Quite possibly. I read a handful of them when I was a teenager. They were entertaining enough, but they were always, well, grandmother books, and my attentions often turned to the titles more geared towards teenage boys.
Several decades after having read my last Christie novel, I decided last month to start reading her books again. I’ve been through the first few Miss Marples, the first few Poirots, and the entire Tommy and Tuppence series – eleven books in all. The Charlotte-Mecklenburg Library’s digital catalog has been a Godsend during this quarantine.
Reading them with older eyes has been enlightening. Yes, they are of course some of the most expertly plotted and crafted crime novels of all time, but there is also a real wit to them. I truly didn’t expect them to be as funny as they are. And as she wrote over the span of five-plus decades, you can slowly see England change and develop over the half of the twentieth century they covered. A big deal is never made, of course, because to Christie they were always contemporary, but it’s there.
Christie wrote just shy of eighty books. It’s early June and I’ve read eleven of them. I think I’m going to try to get through all of them by the end of the year. At my reading speed, it’s definitely doable.
I bet my grandmother could have done it.
I had two stories scheduled to be published this month from the same publisher. I really liked them both and was excited for the rest of the world to read them. Two days ago, the publisher said shockingly racist things on the Internet. The books were initially going to be pulled from publication, then yesterday it was announced they would be held for six months. Last night I requested the stories be pulled from publication.
It would have been easy to say that what the publisher said wasn’t my fault, and neither I nor the other writers should be punished for something we had no control over. I could have left my stories there for quiet publication, accepting the credits but not promoting them. But I couldn’t be someone who says Black Lives Matter in one breath and then give my approval of racism through my silence in the next. Losing two story credits pales in comparison to the implicit and explicit pain that racism has caused and will continue to cause people of color across America.
Some say that people should be forgiven and allowed to learn from their mistakes. I completely agree. At the same time, I’m not the one whose race was denigrated. It’s not up to me to decide in this case if penitence is sincere and forgiveness has been earned. I genuinely hope this person does regret their actions and continues to better themselves and relationships between themselves and non-white people, but it’s not my place to decide if they have.
I don’t intend for this to be a moment of self-righteousness or to put a spotlight on my wokeness. All it is, is an explanation about a decision I made this week and why stories I have championed no longer have homes. I hope they do soon. But if they do not, I still know this was the only decision I could make.
Be well.
This photo of Laurel and Hardy is one of my favorites. Two best friends at the prime of their careers, creating comedy that would last decades after their deaths. I hope I always enjoy writing as much as they did making movies.
Hello, everyone. My name is Luke Foster. I am a writer of both fact and fiction. The one thing I wasn’t working on was my own web site, so tonight I finally got down to it and put this one together. Check back regularly for news, new stories, and whatever else comes to mind.