Saturday, June 15, 2019

THE ORPHAN SCRIVENER -- ISSUE # ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN -- 15 JUNE 2019

Since we last appeared in subscribers' in-boxes, torrential rain and high winds have processed in wet and wild majesty across Maywrite Towers. Today it's our turn in the wind tunnel yet again, but provided the power stays work on this latest newsletter goes on and the fruit of our labour is before you. Take a bite of it by reading on...


MARY'S BIT or WARNING: DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME

Picture this. We invent what we consider a wonderful scene and dive into the writing of it, tapping away like all get out. Then suddenly faces turns pale and keyboard rattling screeches to a halt in the middle of it. The inevitable ghastly questions have materialised and hang unspoken in the air: but how do you know that is even possible -- and not only that, but was it also possible in the sixth century?

So then it's on with the apprentice researcher hats and a dive into the intertubes.

It has been our experience the search for answers will often take us down unusually overgrown by-ways so interesting in themselves it's harder than usual to drag ourselves away from Looking Things Up and make our way back to the main road.

For example, when we set the Bosphorus on fire an article in an 1864 issue of the United States Service Magazine proved extremely helpful in its speculation upon, and conclusions about, materials required to manufacture Greek fire and other inflammables. Information gleaned from it allowed us to accomplish this feat, not to mention a couple of spontaneous combustions, as described in Two For Joy.

The two men who survived hanging in the opening chapter of Eight For Eternity, thereby contributing to the causes of the Nika Riots, were based on an event described in John Malalas' Chronographia.

In finding a source to confirm such unlikely survivals could happen, we discovered a number of such escapes are known to history. Gould and Pyle's Anomalies and Curiosities of Medicine mentions several, including what they describe as "...a most curious case, in which cerebral congestion from the asphyxiation of strangling was accidentally relieved by an additional cut across the throat. The patient was a man who was set upon by a band of Thugs in India."

What about the mechanical whale playing an important part in Three For A Letter? We invented it and its workings based on scrutiny of, and extrapolation from, diagrams in Hero of Alexandria's Pneumatics. We also featured a handful of Hero's own automatons now and then onstage in various roles, in this particular novel the country estate of Anatolius' eccentric uncle Zeno.

Hippolytus' Refutation of All Heresies was a particularly fruitful resource when the vexed question of how magick tricks were worked in John's time had to be tackled, for we always explain these details in due course. Such apparent demonstrations of the occult have occurred in more than one of his adventures. Hippolytus revealed the method by which sheep could be made to kill themselves, used for the suicidal sheep affair taking John and his companions to Egypt in Six For Gold, as well as instructions useful in showing how The Gourd -- a man mentioned by Procopius in his Secret History as accused of being a poisoner and magician and one of the main characters in Four For A Boy -- could perform the "do not try this at home" trick of plunging his hand into boiling pitch without injury, not to mention the method by which the diminutive magician Dedi was able to make his talking skull disappear before the very eyes of his audience in Seven For A Secret.

Speaking of which, I shall now do my own disappearing act so readers may continue to the next section...


NECESSARY EVIL or THE BSP TICKER

Only one item on the ticker today but it's an important one. Our website is finally listed on Google and today resides at the foot of the second page of search results:

http://reedmayermysteries.000webhostapp.com/

It took some time to get there but all is well now!


ERIC'S BIT or THAT TIME I SET FIRE TO A CASTLE

Stop me if you've heard this one. A scientist drummed out of the establishment because of his crackpot theories, his former love interest, a jealous rival scientist, and a power mad government official walk into an apocalypse....

Okay, Mary and I have been watching too many low budget end-of-the-world films. Why I can't say considering how many good books there are to read, how much good music there is to listen to and, for that matter, how many much better movies we could watch. Even staring at the wall would be less irritating and only marginally less interesting. All I can say is that these lame attempts to depict Armageddon on a shoestring exercise a sort of...well...horrible fascination. It's impossible to show something as big as an apocalypse on a tiny budget. When you try the results are disastrous. You need a nuclear holocaust, you get what looks like Missile Command for Atari 2600 circa 1981. Earthquake? Actors scream and lean side to side. Panic in the streets? (Mary's favorite) How about one overturned car and six people running back and forth? More like a picnic in the streets.

Why do the filmmakers bother with their el cheapo disasters? Aside from the fact that people like me will watch them? There are endless small, quiet stories that could be told without special effects. Maybe they would have preferred to do horror films but couldn't afford enough ketchup.

I understand the urge to reach for an artistic vision that's beyond your grasp. In the early sixties my parent saved up Green Stamps to buy a Super-8 movie camera. It didn't take me long to grasp the basics of stop motion animation. And when I say "basics" I mean very basic indeed. Granted, it was rather expensive for a youngster. Colored Plasticine was not cheap. Still it was manageable. No need for big financial backers. Back in those days you could get a nickel refund for empty soda bottles people left lying around.

There was no CGI to worry about. No blue screens. No computer programs. The most difficult technical issue was that the clay figures I was animating quickly melted under the hot floodlight. If I wasn't careful they would appear to deteriorate as they walked around, or hit each other, or fought with swords. So whether I was shooting Zorro or First Man on the Moon the stories all threatened to end up being versions of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Then there was the time I wanted the hero to escape through the burning castle. You can't have an action film where the hero doesn't escape flames. But how the heck do you create flames using stop action? My solution was elegantly simple. Since the castle was drawn on cardboard I set it on fire, shot a frame, blew the fire out, repositioned my Plasticine hero, lit the fire again, shot another frame, and so forth. The effect in the finished film was interesting....

Writers are luckier than filmmakers. Mary and I filled the streets of Constantinople with thousands of rioters for about $1.35, the approximate cost of the pots of coffee we consumed at the keyboard. A writer can do anything he or she can think of. Expense be damned! Set the Bosphorus on fire? As Mary mentioned, been there, done that. Chariot races at the Hippodrome? A few lines of description and the reader will visualize the scene more perfectly than any amount of CGI. Filmmakers depend on computers to create their special effects. Writers work with the human imagination, which is far more powerful than any computer.


AND FINALLY

By now, even Methuselah would be complaining this issue of Orphan Scrivener has gone on long enough. So we'll close by reminding readers we shall appear in their in-boxes via Internet magick on August 15th. See you then!
Mary R and Eric

who invite you to visit their home page, to be found hanging out on the virtual washing line that is the Web at http://reedmayermysteries.000webhostapp.com/ There you'll discover the usual suspects, including more personal essays, a bibliography, and our growing libraries of links to free e-texts of classic and Golden Age mysteries, ghost stories, and tales of the supernatural. It also hosts the Orphan Scrivener archive, so don't say you weren't warned! Meantime, our joint blog, largely devoted to reviews of Golden Age of Mystery fiction, lurks about at http://ericreedmysteries.blogspot.com/ Intrepid subscribers may also wish to know our noms des Twitter are @marymaywrite and @groggytales. Drop in some time!


Monday, April 15, 2019

THE ORPHAN SCRIVENER -- ISSUE # ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN -- 15 APRIL 2019

Here at the moated grange we call Casa Maywrite there are few signs of spring. In fact, that sure sign of the change in season known as the Form 1040 has yet to appear, although we have been assured it and its six new supporting schedules will be sent when they are available. At that time we shall doubtless need our cogitative faculties immersed In cogibundity of cogitation, as Henry Carey noted about another matter entirely. And speaking of other matters, read on...


ERIC'S BIT or COGITATING ON A TOUCH OF DEATH

Charles Williams was one of the those brilliant and often underrated authors who wrote hard-boiled crime fiction for Gold Medal back in the Fifties. His 1951 debut novel Hill Girl had been turned down by hardback publishers but sold over a million as an original paperback. You might remember the 1989 movie Dead Calm, one of several film adaptations of his books. I've yet to read a bad book by Williams. My favorite thus far is River Girl, but A Touch of Death, first published in 1954 and available currently from Hardcase Crime, is plenty good.

The narrator, Lee Scarborough, used to be a college football star, now he's got a mailbox full of overdue bills and $170 in the bank. He runs into a woman who says her name is Diana James. She knows how she can get her hands on a lot of money and Lee's the perfect guy to help. It'll be easy. A simple break-in while the owner's away. And it is easy, for about fifteen minutes....

"Housebreaking, I thought. Auto theft. Abduction. What was next? Blackmail? Extortion? But I had it all figured now, I was still within jumping distance of solid ground in every direction, and I wasn't in much danger if I played it right. Somebody was going to come home first in that $120,000 sweepstakes, and as of now I looked like the favorite."

What's next, for Lee, it turns out, is a second woman, Madelon Butler: "chromium-plated and solid ice both ways from the middle."

And he's never going to figure her out.

Yes, it all ends in tears. If you've ever read a single noir crime novel from the Fifties I'm not telling you anything you wouldn't already know. Even if you've never read one, it's obvious right from the beginning, even to Lee, when he stops to think straight. Which isn't often with Madelon pulling his strings. With books like this the question isn't whether it's all going to go wrong but exactly how.

Why do I enjoy reading about guys who are in over their heads? Because it's the story of my life?

Embarrassing psychological questions aside, I love the style. The Fifties hard-boiled and noir authors could really write. Mickey Spillane, James Cain, David Goodis, Ed Lacy....you name him. They each knew that a short straight punch packs more wallop than a flashy roundhouse. If only more modern authors would dare to write with such energy and economy.

NOTE: Beware, this is not the literary author Charles Williams, who belonged to the Inklings writers group which included J.R.R.Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. I've read his All Hallows Eve, a novel involving ghosts and sorcery in wartime London which is wonderful, weird, and atmospheric but written ironically in an impenetrably turgid and awkward style, pretty much the exact opposite of the style employed by the pulp author Charles Williams.


NECESSARY EVIL or THE BSP TICKER

It is but coincidence Eric would write about hard-boiled fiction given the news on today's ticker resembles the proverbial curate's egg: part is good and part is not. As believers of requesting to hear the less good first so there's better news to cheer us up after receiving it, we'll do the same for our subscribers. Onward!

DIFFULTIES TO BE OVERCOME or SUDDENLY IT WAS GONE

It has been over a month since our website just up and disappeared without warning overnight. Despite free and frank discussions multiple times with our server, we're now at the point of moving our website. By the time this newsletter arrives Orphan Scrivener will be residing at

http://reedmayermysteries.000webhostapp.com/

There'll also be a change in email address and we'll announce that most useful info in due course. For the nonce, however, the current email address is still operating.

ONE FOR SORROW RETURNS or A SPECIAL OFFER FROM POISONED PEN PRESS

And now for the good news!

Poisoned Pen Press is currently offering special pricing on paperbacks of the first books in a number of the series they publish, including ours. So grab your opportunity to purchase the paperback One For Sorrow for $9.99 from

Barnes and Noble

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-for-sorrow-mary-reed/1101752428

Amazon

https://tinyurl.com/OFSoffer

Or from an independent book store of your choice.


MARY'S BIT or AVOID STEPPING ON FROGS

We recently saw The Illusionist, the story of a magician working in late 1880s Vienna, whose childhood love is a woman of a much higher social class. Its production values are excellent and it's an interesting if occasionally predictable film. However, there is a wonderful twist at the end which neither of us saw coming until it was nearly at the door, although it was quite plain it would when we reflected on earlier dialogue.

Seeing the film reminded me that some years ago we attended a charity fete. While wandering about the garden there we noticed a young man with a small table of the type from which TV viewers ate their dinners. He was not in fact lunching but rather just standing there, casually performing the most amazing display of card magick.

We stood on the other side of the table, his only watchers at the time and close enough to touch the velvet tablecloth. Despite staring hard enough at his hands to verge on rudeness we just could not see how he managed to accomplish what he was doing. When he took a break we got into conversation and discovered he had begun learning card tricks to help increase the flexibility of his hands, which had been affected by illness. It certainly worked well, since there was no sign of hesitation, fumbling, or stiffness while we were standing right there boggling at his skill.

There is something compelling about watching magick of any kind, isn't there? Thus it was inevitable that sooner or later it would show up in John's adventures. And indeed it did with the introduction of Dedi, a diminutive Egyptian magician, in Six For Gold. That entry in the series relates how John, accompanied by Cornelia and Peter, is sent to Egypt to investigate the curious case of sheep committing suicide -- a matter for which Dedi claims responsibility, intending it as a warning to a local dignitary attempting to appropriate his land.

During the course of the trio's visit other puzzling events occur, including a fiery apparition in the sky terrifying the locals, who take it to be a visit from Hecate. John and his companions also witness a performance by Dedi in which a coin leaps from a bowl, three stone scarabs are produced from the ear of an onlooker, and Dedi's talking oracular human-faced snake makes an appearance. Of course Dedi is an audacious fraud, and we explain the workings of such apparently supernatural happenings, although one or two are simple enough for it to be obvious to the reader how they were accomplished.

Since I am talking about Six For Gold, let me mention one of my favourite scenes though I realise I say it as should not. However, our newsletter is after all located in Liberty Hall, so, then, at one point John, Peter, and Cornelia are stranded in Alexandria and forced to go in for a bit of street theatre to get enough money to continue on their journey to reach Dedi's stamping grounds. In this most unlikely endeavour Cornelia does a turn as Empress Theodora, Peter plays her servant, and John reluctantly appears as himself. Oh, and a counterfeit mummy of one of those most magickal of creatures -- that is to say a cat -- is also on hand to provide assistance in the riotous proceedings.

As had been the case with Peter, Dedi turned out to be a character who kept knocking on the authorial door demanding to appear in more novels. As indeed has happened. He is at his most audacious in Ten For Dying, to the extent of attempting to return Theodora to life. His ritual involves a number of frogs but to his horror he accidentally steps on one while performing the ceremony. While he truly believes he has succeeded in his dreadful endeavour, he also knows that, having croaked a croaker, the wrath of the frog goddess Heqt will fall on his head, and that it will be just the start of his troubles.


AND FINALLY

Speaking of riotous proceedings, we'll close with a reminder the next Orphan Scrivener will return to grace our subscribers' in-boxes on 15th June.

See you then!
Mary R and Eric

who invite you to visit their home page, to be found hanging out on the virtual washing line that is the Web at http://reedmayermysteries.000webhostapp.com/ There you'll discover the usual suspects, including more personal essays, a bibliography, and our growing libraries of links to free e-texts of classic and Golden Age mysteries, ghost stories, and tales of the supernatural. It also hosts the Orphan Scrivener archive, so don't say you weren't warned! Meantime, our joint blog, largely devoted to reviews of Golden Age of Mystery fiction, lurks about at http://ericreedmysteries.blogspot.com/ Intrepid subscribers may also wish to know our noms des Twitter are @marymaywrite and @groggytales. Drop in some time!

Friday, February 15, 2019

THE ORPHAN SCRIVENER -- ISSUE # ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN -- 15 FEBRUARY 2019

This issue of Orphan Scrivener is being composed to a soundtrack of howling and gusty winds punctuated by occasional loud rattles and scrapes as flying branches attempt to force an entry. Wordsworth compared this sort of weather to a sightless labourer whistling at his task, a wonderful word picture of the ill winds so many have suffered of late. And while we won't claim they are necessarily wonderful, read on for more words from storm-battered Casa Maywrite...


MARY'S BIT or THAT WAS A CLOSE ONE!

Last newsletter we mentioned three of our household appliances conked out within a month or so of each other. Now our nerves have recovered somewhat this is the saga.

To begin with, there was the Curious Case of the Conked-Out Cooker. The poor thing had been ailing for a while and was the first of the trio of appliances to be replaced. The oven had begun over-heating no matter how we tried to fool it by setting it lower than required, and the oven door had taken to falling open without warning. Until its replacement arrived we effected a temporary fix by taping the door shut as needed. Hands up those who knew heat melts the glue on package tape?

Regular readers of Orphan Scrivener may recall we related in 2003 * how, using only two hammers and a pair of semi-stripped screwdrivers, we took apart a washer to get it out of the bathroom without having to remove the door or part of a wall. Going by still visible scars, one or the other or both were needed to get the full-sized machine in there, Casa Maywrite having narrower doors than most houses. Including those leading outside. It's an architectural feature giving a new twist on Ogden Nash's observation that doors were things dogs were always on the wrong side of. At least the canines could enter or exit when their door was open.

Our replacement apartment sized washer did sterling work for over a decade and with only two knobs to set was beautifully simple to run. Until it downed tools and refused to work. Alas, it turned out few top loader models were still available and those that were all too wide to fit through our doors. The new front-loader took about three weeks to arrive so when delivered it had a good initial work-out catching up on laundry. It took a few run-throughs to wrassle its fancy electronic controls into submission and there's still a lingering impression that when the back is turned the LCD display lights up and forms the shape of an evil eye. Had he been alive today M. R. James (he roolz!) could do a lot with that possibility and I don't mean his laundry.

By then much colder weather was coming in fast and in solidarity with its fellow appliances the heating went on strike two days after it was turned on. And why not? It brought a litany of complaints to the table: both zone valves were useless but for different reasons -- one had a bad end switch and the other was stuck. Also the thermostat was not doing its job properly, and the air scoop had become blocked by the high mineral content in our water. It took another couple of weeks to obtain the needed parts and then on his visit to install them the plumber realised the safety relief valve had also quietly silted up, so he replaced that while he was at it. Fortunately he had the right part in his van. Phew! That was a close one!

Now we are considering taking wagers on which appliance will malfunction next and the odds on finding a replacement that can pass through the doors.

* For newer subscribers that account appeared in Orphan Scrivener 21 at

http://home.earthlink.net/~maywrite/tos21.htm#washer


NECESSARY EVIL or THE BSP TICKER

And onward to the news...

A NEW DEVELOPMENT or CHANGES AHEAD

The start of a new year is traditionally the time when resolutions are made and new ventures kick off. So it was at the start of January, when Poisoned Pen Press announced it was now Sourcebooks' mystery imprint. Having been with PPP man and boy we await developments with keen interest. Meantime PW gives more details about the move at

https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/publisher-news/article/78863-poisoned-pen-press-will-become-sourcebooks-mystery-imprint.html

TRINITY KAUFMAN, AZAAN RANGEL, AND REED TILLY or STRUGGLING WITH NAMES

Sometimes it's difficult to come up with names for characters. Patti Nunn's Bookbrowsing blog on 13th February featured an essay on this very topic, wherein Mary offered some less obvious resources for digging up just the right nomenclature. From whence did Trinity Kaufman, Azaan Rangel, and Reed Tilly spring and what's the connection with Isis O'Reilly? All is revealed at

https://bookbrowsing.wordpress.com/2019/02/13/naming-your-characters-by-mary-reed/


ERIC'S BIT or IS IT OUT TO GET US?

It's 6:30 in the morning. Having stayed awake all night, I'm relieved to see the world outside the windows reappear in the pewter colored light before dawn. Sitting alone in the silence through the dark hours I begin to feel as if there's nothing left but me and the glowing screen of my laptop.

During the worst winter weather Mary and I take turns making sure the well pump runs periodically to keep the water line under the house from freezing. I'm on the night shift.

It's not so bad compared to squeezing into the crawlspace under the house to thaw the water line. Otherwise I'd surely have been forced to venture under there with temperatures falling to eleven below zero two nights in a row. And that's Fahrenheit below zero, not your wimpy Celsius below zero.

The last time the pipes froze -- and I do hope it's the last time -- we went to bed with running water and got up to find the drip we'd left on in the sinks had stopped. I turned on the taps but only a death rattle came out.

To get at the line, I had to dig frozen snow away from the panel covering the crawlspace entrance in the cinderblock foundation. Peering in I could see the orange lights on the trusty heat tapes coiled around most of the plumbing glowing softly through layers of dust and cobwebs. The tapes couldn't be extended to reach the full length of the water line where it emerges from the ground and through a hole in the outer wall towards the front of the house. Don't ask me why. I'm not a plumber or an electrician.

I got down on my hands and knees and squeezed into the tight space under the house, only a couple cinder blocks high, too narrow for me to roll over on my shoulder in some spots. It's a bit like being inside a sub-zero MRI machine, filled with dirt, hanging insulation, and criss-crossed by wires and pipes. At least the monstrous spiders that lurk under there were all frozen solid.

I managed to push and pull myself over to where I guessed the problem was and directed the heat gun into the rubble-filled mouth of the line's den. At that point the doubts arrive. What if it won't thaw this time, or the plastic pipe bursts? Water and electricity don't play well together, do they? It felt like hours before I heard loosened ice rattling up the line and Mary called down from above that the water was back. Probably it didn't take more than fifteen minutes before I was able to return from the underworld.

So as the sun rises I've avoided that adventure this time. Mary insists this house isn't out to get us, but sometimes I wonder.


AND FINALLY

We'll close with belated but sincere good wishes to our subscribers for this new year, and a reminder the next Orphan Scrivener will roll into their in-boxes on April 15th, a date unfortunately easy to remember.


See you then! Mary R and Eric

who invite you to visit their home page, to be found hanging out on the virtual washing line that is the Web at http://home.earthlink.net/~maywrite/ There you'll discover the usual suspects, including more personal essays, a bibliography, and our growing libraries of links to free e-texts of classic and Golden Age mysteries, ghost stories, and tales of the supernatural. There's also the Orphan Scrivener archive, so don't say you weren't warned! Our joint blog is at http://ericreedmysteries.blogspot.com/ Intrepid subscribers may also wish to know our noms des Twitter are @marymaywrite and @groggytales Drop in some time!


The Orphan Scrivener -- Issue # One Hundred and Fifty-Four -- 15 August 2025

As with much of the country we continue to cope as best we may with the ongoing heatwave. Fortunately we have yet to reach the type of high ...