Thomas Frank looks at what John Podesta's hacked emails reveal about the liberal elite. It's no surprise, Frank says, that they take care of themselves and their own. So if you don't belong to the meritocracy, then you're out of luck.
I developed a soft spot in my political heart for Thomas Frank after he published What's the Matter with Kansas? How Conservatives Won the Heart of America in 2004. It seemed to me that he correctly identified how the Republican party uses culture-war politics to stir up white working-class voters, and that such support usually comes at the expense of their economic well-being. True, I was rather critical of Mr. Frank's handling of the importance of religious conviction, but there is much in his book that I still find convincing. Be that as it may, I take his views seriously, and so I'm always happy to come across new work from him.
In that spirit, then, I recommend that you read this article on the role that the rejection of trade agreements plays in generating white working-class support for Donald Trump's presidential campaign. It's not the whole story, of course, and Mr. Frank knows as much, but he is clearly correct to pay attention to what Trump is actually saying on the campaign trail, and if you look at videos or read speeches, you'll see that Trump spends a lot of time denouncing trade agreements that he and his supporters hold responsible for gutting American manufacturing.
By the way, just so you know, both of my parents were born and raised in Kansas. I too was born there, but I grew up in Texas.
Despite my interest in horror fiction and film, I've never been an admirer of the work of Stephen King. Years ago I read a few of the stories in Night Shift, but since I found them rather derivative of H. P. Lovecraft, I didn't feel any need to read the whole book. Maybe that was a mistake on my part, but that's how I felt at the time. The many movies adapted from Mr. King's books have also never inspired me to read any of his works. Of course, that's not the best way to select what to read, but, once again, that's how I've felt about the movies and their source material. So, for good or bad reasons, I'm rather ignorant when it comes to Mr. King.
I've mentioned in some of my posts of the past couple of years that I've been reading a lot about crime, both fictional and non-fictional. For quite a while, though, I've been aware of a series of crime novels called Hard Case Crime. I read a handful of HCC books before I started my crime jag. Because I've enjoyed what I've read, I've continued with the series as time has allowed.
Mr. King has published two books with HCC. Because HCC hasn't let me down so far, I figured that I should give his work another chance, and so I recently read Joyland. To my surprise, I wasn't disappointed. Consequently, I've decided to devote one of my book notes to Joyland.
I've posted a photo of the cover of the first edition of the paperback edition of the book. My copy was from my local public library, and so it was a bit worn. In case you're wondering, the cover painting doesn't give anything away, since it doesn't depict an actual scene from the book, although it does nicely represent some of the amusement park atmosphere in which much of the dramatic action in Joyland takes place.
The protagonist of the book is Devin Jones, a college student who in 1973 takes a summer job at a North Carolina amusement park called Joyland. But the voice of the narrator, which is that of the older Mr. Jones as he recalls this time in his life forty years later, informs us as the book begins that it's now September, which means, of course, that he stayed on at Joyland after his summer job ended. The reader will eventually learn why he chose not to go back to college in the fall. This part of the novel turns out to be an affecting coming-of-age story.
As you would expect, though, there's more to Joyland than the story of a young man who graduates from immaturity to maturity. Along the way, Devon has to deal with an unsolved crime—after all, this book is an entry in the HCC series—filtered somewhat fitfully through Mr. King's penchant for the supernatural. A young woman named Linda Gray was murdered in the Joyland funhouse a few years before Devon arrived for his summer job. Her death is still unsolved, and she is said to haunt the funhouse. By the end of Joyland we learn the identity of the killer as well as the answer to the question of whether or not the funhouse is really haunted.
It's a convention of a murder mystery that the perpetrator of the crime is introduced to the reader at some point but in a way that deflects suspicion until the plot reaches its climax. Unfortunately, there's really only one plausible suspect, and so it comes as no surprise when this character's guilt is finally confirmed, but Mr. King never gives the reader any reason for suspecting this individual except for the narrative convention that someone in the story has to be the guilty party. That is, it's the mechanics of murder mysteries that drives the reader's suspicions, not the dramatic details of the plot. Consequently, the solution of the mystery is a disappointment.
The supernatural element is rather tangential to the plot. Throughout the book we are told that one of the characters is psychic. This claim is confirmed for us when we learn that the requisite confrontation with the killer reaches its final outcome by means of a supernatural twist. There's a nice surprise here that I won't spoil, but the book as a whole would not have been much different if the entire supernatural aspect had been omitted.
Overall, I should say that the atmosphere of the amusement park was what I liked most about the book. The coming-of-age story was just a little less enjoyable, since it was predictable at times. (How Devon is going to lose his virginity, that is, with which woman, is completely obvious. I'm not spoiling anything here, since Devon is constantly thinking about sex. As readers we know that some sort of resolution is in the offing.) The pursuit of the mystery is generally well handled (except that, as I noted above, its solution is disappointing), and the supernatural element is largely superfluous. In short, the positive qualities of the book outweigh its negative ones. I think that fans of Mr. King's work will like the book much more than I did, but, as I hope to have shown you, you don't have to be a fan to enjoy Joyland.
I'll soon read Mr. King's earlier contribution to HCC. It's called The Colorado Kid. I'm looking forward to it.
In an earlier post I explained why I. N. J. Culbard is to blame for my interest in graphic novels. Well, I've been seduced by him once again, this time by his adaptation of a series of stories from a book by Robert Chambers called The King in Yellow.
Here are two quick photos of the graphic novel to get you started. The first is a cover shot; the second, a sample of the artwork.
There's really no simple way to summarize what Mr. Culbard has attempted in this book, and so I won't try. The original stories are loosely linked by repeated references to a strange play, The King in Yellow, that has the power to drive its readers insane. As you can imagine, each story is suitably bizarre, and Mr. Culbard captures the weird atmosphere with his usual skill.
The book was originally published in 1895. (You can find the American edition on this page.) The first four stories"The Repairer of Reputations," "The Mask," "In the Court of the Dragon," and "The Yellow Sign"are the ones adapted by Mr. Culbard, although I see that he has slightly changed their order, which really makes no difference, given that there isn't a continuous plotline that runs from the beginning to the end of the stories.
You might be interested to know that The King in Yellow caught the attention of H. P. Lovecraft. (Go to the text of his essay "Supernatural Horror in Literature" and scroll down to his brief discussion of Chambers.) Presumably, HPL knew what he was doing, and since he doesn't discuss the rest of the book, I can only assume that our four stories are the highlight of the book.
If you like weird fiction, then you'll enjoy the stories as well as their graphic adaptation. You just need to know in advance that they're not telling you a longer tale that somehow encompasses the action of all four stories. If you don't know that, then you might feel let down when you reach the end.
One last thing. If you've stumbled upon this post because you're wondering about the relationship between The King in Yellow and the first season of HBO's True Detective, then you should know that reading the stories (or Culbard's graphic adaptation of them) won't help you in the least to understand the TV series. The show's menacing allusions to Carcosa and the Yellow King contribute to the mysterious atmosphere surrounding the investigation into the murder of Dora Lange. But if you ask me, that's all that they do. You don't need to know anything about Chambers to appreciate the show.