Bad words from yesteryear

Here’s an interesting little post from the American Heritage Dictionary about words that a substantial percentage of its Usage Panel frowned upon in the mid-1960s. They include balding, choreograph, senior citizen, divorce (as an intransitive verb), and upcoming.

Reading these early ballot results has an oddly disorienting effect, standing as a vivid reminder that creeping changes in the English language have been going on constantly throughout our lives, often without our even noticing. All of the usages listed above have become so commonplace that we don’t bother to ballot them anymore, or to include usage notes for them in the dictionary. No doubt many of the usages that are widely condemned today will, in turn, quietly work their way into standard usage, until one day we’ll wonder why anyone ever objected to them.

I would just quibble with two of the words.

Balding has always struck me as an odd word; it sure looks like the present participle of the verb to bald.  But there is no such verb!  I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I have used the word to describe a character–the word is useful!  But I would never do it without a twinge of guilt.

Senior citizen is, I suppose, a phrase in good standing, but it only feels right to me it in certain contexts, like TV news reports, where euphemisms are more or less expected.  You would never use it in fiction to describe a character, except maybe ironically.

I have written before about words and phrases that seem to be in the process of changing, like jive as a synonym for jibe, and “I have a pit in my stomach” for “I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.”  Let me add the transitive use of the verb graduate, as in, “When I graduate college, I’m going to become an English teacher.”  Interestingly, the battle used to be fought over the active vs. passive usage of graduate: “He graduated from college” vs. “He was graduated from college.”  Who exactly is doing the graduating?  That battle appears to have been lost, although you could still say: “The college graduated 300 seniors last Saturday.”

Is the language falling apart, or is it just changing?

Let’s all join Craig Shaw Gardner in the Netherhells

Craig Shaw Gardner has finally released the first three books in his hilarious Ebenezum series as e-books.  Let the rejoicing begin!  Here’s the classic cover for A Malady of Magicks:

Also out are A Night in the Netherhells and A Multitude of Monsters.

I heard Craig read the short story that turned into A Malady of Magicks back in the Harding administration sometime, and I couldn’t believe that anyone could write a story that funny.

Mr. Gardner has also relaunched his blog, this time in our familiar WordPress world. Let’s get him to start adding content!

Where are all the gay bars in Jordan, and other mysteries of the Middle East

My little post yesterday explaining the Middle East got a lot of views.  Which is odd, because I know nothing about the Middle East.  Like most Americans, my time is spent worrying about Tom Brady’s left knee and Clay Buchholz’s right arm.  Also how to sell my many fine novels.

If you really want to learn about the Middle East, you should get my son to restart the blog he had last year.  Or start a new one where the photos don’t disappear.

Here is the sort of thing I don’t know, and he does:

Son: “The best clubs in Amman are on Rainbow Street.”

Me, making a tiny little joke: “I suppose that’s where the gay bars are.”

Son: “As a matter of fact, that’s right.  They’re not called gay bars, but everyone knows what they are.”

So there you have it.  The gay bars in Jordan are on Rainbow Street in Amman.  Who knew?  Everyone in Amman, apparently.  Here’s a photo of the street.

My son can also tell you about what happens to liquor stores during Ramadan, and the etiquette of letting cab drivers stop for coffee, how people behave when it snows in Amman, and many other interesting facts that you and I don’t know anything about. We just have to get him writing again.

The best explanation of the Middle East ever

My son has headed back to the Middle East for a year (at least), so I have more than the usual interest in what’s going on over there.  He sent me to this Buzzfeed image of a letter to the Financial Times, which finally made everything clear to me.

This makes me feel so much better about the whole thing.  What could possibly go wrong?

Senator currently one of “101 Nook Books Under $2.99” at Barnes & Noble

Senator is currently on sale at Barnes & Noble for the ridiculously low price of $0.99.  (Yes, friends, you heard right!)  So now would be a good time to pick it up if you’ve got a Nook.

I don’t know how this sort of thing works, but my publisher got the novel a spot on B&N’s “101 Nook Books Under $2.99” promotion.  It’s currently on the third page, but the book moves up the pages as its sales rank improves. This promotion is having an effect.  A couple of days ago Senator‘s sales rank was somewhere north of 300,000 on B&N, meaning (I suppose) that no one had bought it recently.  Currently its sales rank is 460.  Maybe someone will finally review it!

Here’s what the cover looks like, in case you’ve forgotten:

Senator-Cover2

The Portal is now available from Amazon!

It’s time to enter The Portal.

9781614174639

Okay, that’s a bit hokey, but seriously, the Kindle version of The Portal is now available. It’ll be up on Barnes & Noble, iBooks, and other fine sites soon. Those of you who have dipped into the novel on this blog can now have your very own electronic copy for the astonishingly low price of $4.99.  (All right, that price isn’t so astonishingly low, but it’s what my publisher decided the thing was worth.)

Customer reviews are critical to the success of an ebook.  If you can find it in your heart to write a good review of The Portal at Amazon, that would be very helpful.  You don’t have to purchase the book from Amazon, but reviews from verified purchasers count for more.

My publisher and I couldn’t quite agree on sales copy for The Portal.  Here is my summary:

In the woods behind his house Larry Barnes makes a spectacular discovery—an invisible portal to a parallel universe, where Burger King has turned into Burger Queen, cell phones are huge, and his home town doesn’t look anything like the place where he lives.  When he returns from this world, he makes the mistake of telling his best friend, Kevin Albright, who convinces him to try entering the portal one more time.  What could go wrong?

But this time Larry and Kevin find themselves in a very different world. From the moment they step out of the portal they are caught up in a war that pits the United States of New England against New Portugal and Canada.  They need to make their way in a world that is utterly alien, without computers or automobiles or telephones.  A world in which no one has heard of America, or Mozart, or bacteria.  Larry and Kevin face hunger, disease, battle—and, most of all, loneliness.  But they also find friendship and family, joy and love.  Can they survive the war—and help New England win it?  Can they make their way back to the portal and return home?  And what will they leave behind if they do make it back?

Exciting and deeply moving, The Portal is a science-fiction adventure you won’t soon forget.

Summer images

We haven’t taken a photo break lately.

Here is a photo of a waterfall in the Berkshires taken by my friend Tom Whelan:

And here is a simple daisy, looking beautiful:

Here’s where I spent a couple days of my vacation last week, looking at the ocean instead of working on my novel:

2013-08-16 12.49.31

 

That’s Duxbury Beach on Boston’s South Shore.

Now back to work.

An alternative cover

My publisher changed its mind about “Alternate History“.  The primary reason: Amazon uses “Alternative History” as its category for ebooks and “Alternate History” for books. So here is today’s cover:

9781614174639

 

My friend Kathy (who can’t possibly be old enough to be the parent of a tween) complains that using the word “History” on the cover will turn off kids the age of her son.  This is interesting.  Publishers feel the need to categorize novels, because readers tend to stick to their favorite genres, and it’s much harder to market a novel if it can’t be fit neatly into a genre.  (My first agent gave up on me when I sent him Marlborough Street and he had no idea how to pitch it to publishers.  My current publisher decided it was a “psychic thriller,” which I guess is a thing.)

Kathy also queries why the novel isn’t marketed directly to tweens — don’t they have their own category?  Yes, they do.  But I’m pretty sure adults will enjoy The Portal, and if you market a novel specifically to young adults, you’re not going to get any adults reading it (unless you’re J.K. Rowling).  So, I dunno.  I’d much rather write the stuff than figure out how to market it.

Is it “alternate history” or “alternative history”?

The Portal is about to go live on Amazon.  Today I got my first look at the final draft of the cover.  My publisher apparently wasn’t fond of my tag line, because they came up with this:

The Portal

 

OK, first of all, do you like the cover?  But second, should it be alternate or alternative?  I am worried that the cold-eyed editors where I work will cut me dead in the hallways and the lunch line when they find out I have written an “alternate history novel.”  I don’t know if I could stand this.

Ignoring the persnickety purists for a moment, if you look at Amazon’s book categories, they use Alternative History.  But if you search for “alternative history” on Amazon, their search engine asks if you really mean “alternate history.”  Wikipedia’s entry for “Alternative History” redirects you to the entry for “Alternate History.”  On the other hand, Google Ngram Viewer gives “alternative history” a clear lead (both terms entered the language around 1970). On yet another hand, a Google search gives a slight lead to “alternate history.”

On a book cover, the fewer letters the better, I suppose; “alternative” sounds and looks a bit fussy.  So I think I’m OK with this.  But I’m worried about those editors.

“Pontiff” and Pope Francis; thrillers and reality

Life is kinda boring.  That’s why thriller writers are required to amp things up.  There are some vague parallels between Pope John in my novel Pontiff and Pope Francis in the real world.  Both were elected to the papacy at least somewhat for geopolitical reasons–my Pope John because he was an African; Pope Francis because he’s from South America.  In both cases the new papacy seems to some to be a breath of fresh air after the previous pope: liberals get their hopes up, conservatives start fretting.

But that’s about where the comparisons run out of steam.  In real life, Pope Francis has said some things that have gotten liberal hearts a-flutter, but on closer inspection they don’t represent any kind of real change in policy or dogma, just a slight change in emphasis, maybe just a rhetorical device.  His recent remarks on gays are an example. It’s nice that he doesn’t want to judge gays; on the other hand, his remarks didn’t hint at changing the Church’s stance on the sinfulness of homosexual behavior, as traditional Catholics (almost gleefully) point out. A change in rhetoric is interesting (and may conceivably affect someone’s life for the better), but it doesn’t make for a thriller.

Anyway, here’s the big speech I give to the new Pope John about change in the Church.  He has been asking a bunch of cardinals what they think is the biggest challenge facing the Church–they mention obedience, money, the decline in vocations.  Then his secretary of state, Cardinal Valli, asks him what he thinks.  We see the scene through the eyes of Cardinal Riccielli, who is head of the Vatican Bank.  (It was the scandal around the Vatican Bank that Pope Francis was addressing in his remarks on gays.  The Vatican Bank is one area where life is as interesting as fiction.)

What would Valli say when his turn came? Riccielli expected that others were wondering the same thing. Many of them looked to Valli for guidance, for a sense of how to deal with their new leader. But Valli was saying nothing. Finally the pope asked him directly. “Cardinal Valli, surely you have some thoughts on the challenges facing the Church. Would you share them with us?”

And Valli slowly shook his head in response. “Holiness, what I think is of utterly no importance. All that matters is what you think. I ask you to share your thoughts with us.”

The room was silent. Would the pope think Valli was being impertinent? The pope continued to smile, staring at Valli with his large brown eyes, and finally he nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Of course, your Eminence,” he said, so softly this time that Riccielli had to lean forward to hear. “I am not a philosopher, though. I am not a theologian. Some would even say that I am not an especially worldly man. I have spent too much time fighting minor battles in a faraway land. So I am not prepared to make any grand pronouncements. I do want to listen, and learn.

“But I will say this. I believe that the Church’s problem is not that its members are insufficiently obedient to its teachings, but that the Church is insufficiently responsive to the needs of its members. We are in many respects a powerful and effective body, but too many people no longer listen to us; for too many people, we no longer matter. And if we do matter, it is because they believe we are an obstacle to the fulfillment of their humanity and the true expression of their faith.

“I believe this has happened because the Church has become too focused on matters that are not central to the truths we espouse: the reality of Our Lord’s death and resurrection, and our witness to it in this world.

“I have had to counsel a young priest in tears as he petitioned to be laicized. He loved the Church, loved his vocation, but the burden of celibacy was just too great. He was sinning, and he did not want to sin. We have seen far too much of this lately.

“I have talked to young mothers terrified that they would become pregnant again and be forced to bear children they could not afford to feed.

“I have visited AIDS clinics and listened as doctors told me how many of those ravaged people I saw would have remained healthy if the Church had eased its prohibition against the use of condoms.

“We cannot be blind to the very real consequences of our actions and pronouncements. And we must try to find a way back into the hearts of our people. That is what I think I must do as pope.”

Silence again. The uncomfortable silence, Riccielli realized, of people whose worst nightmares have just come true. Krajcek looked as if he were about to have a stroke. Valli stared at his hands and said nothing in response. Did he regret asking the question? No, they needed to hear this, even if most of them disagreed profoundly.

It was left to Rattner to break the silence—Rattner, the sallow, outspoken Austrian, whose resignation from his congregation had been tendered and accepted, and who therefore had nothing to lose. “The Church is not involved in a popularity contest, your Holiness,” he observed. “We have a sacred obligation to protect the Deposit of Faith, and not to bend with every wind that blows.”

Krajcek revived enough to add, “The Church’s positions on contraception, abortion, clerical celibacy—they are long settled. If they cause some people pain—well, perhaps that is because God’s law is not always easy, and people today are always looking for the easy way out.”

Pope John shrugged. “As I said, I am making no grand pronouncements. I wish only to share some of my thoughts. I don’t ask for your agreement, I ask only that you hear me out, and keep an open mind.”

Keep an open mind. Did the pope think this was merely an abstract theological discussion? Riccielli wondered. Didn’t he realize that his every utterance in this room would be dissected and interpreted like a passage from Revelation, that they would go flying to the far corners of Christendom, repeated and amplified and distorted? In his soft-spoken way he had all but declared war on most of these men, challenging their most basic beliefs, their views of themselves and their Church. They were not likely to keep an open mind.

No one seemed inclined to offer further challenges, however. Were they too shocked? Or too frightened of what he might say next? Rufio offered some pious babble in an attempt to improve the mood, but he didn’t get much response. Finally the pope thanked everyone profusely and brought the meeting to a close.

And this is the setup for the thrillery stuff that follows.