IS TRUTH REALLY STRANGER THAN FICTION? by Penny Hutson

 

On a recent sojourn to one of my favorite places, Barnes and Noble, I found the most unusual book. While searching for anything I could find on Joan of Arc, the history of France and the Hundred Years War, I stumbled upon Bad Days in History: A Gleefully Grim Chronicle of Misfortune, Mayhem, and Misery for Every Day of the Year by Michael Farquhar. The cover depicted a cartoon drawing of a wooden Trojan Horse and an ancient Greek soldier tentatively holding an apple up to its mouth. It made me smile, so I added it to my other finds and headed to the on-site Starbucks. With a cappuccino in one hand and a stack of paperbacks and hardcovers cradled in my other arm, I commandeered a table to peruse my treasures.

In the Bad Days in History, the author chronicles the epic misfortunes and terrible bad luck of some of the most absurd and often little-known occurrences of our time with a touch of light-hearted humor. Plucked from the ancient days of yore to the 2000s, this tome consists of 365 uproarious blunders and catastrophes from around the world.

With short accounts spanning anywhere from a few sentences to three pages, you can read several stories in just a few minutes. Clever titles adorn each one. Some of my favorites are “The Spy Who Mugged Me” and “Double-Lacrossed” and “Oh, Now You Tell Her . . .” Others reveal more of its subject matter, like “RFK to LBJ: You’re no JFK” or “Burning Up Old Hickory: Andrew Jackson’s Dixie Nemesis.” To tell the truth, I had fun just reading the titles but had to visit the index to find something on Joan of Arc. It was just two sentences and, unfortunately, nothing I didn’t already know.

I was just about to drop this selection onto my “No Purchase” pile when it hit me. This could be an awesome resource for historical writers like me. Before I chose the time-period for my first fictional piece, I spent hours over many days scouring tons of sources for lesser-known events in the past in which to set my novel. Now, I have 365 of them at my fingertips! And after reading a few dozen or so, I believe any writer could use these bizarre yet true occurrences as a basis for starting or perking up a story in any genre.

Here are just a few examples I found particularly fun or amusing.

On January 28, 1393, the “Costume Drama: The Worst Burning Man Festival Ever” tells of a masquerade ball, attended by King Charles VI of France along with five of his knights. They were all dressed as shaggy, hairy creatures in costumes made of linen soaked with resin and covered in flax, including the King. Then, his younger brother, Louis, Duke of Orleans, arrived late, drunk and with a torch. Oh yes, you’ve probably guessed it already. Four of the knights burned to death. One survived by throwing himself into a vat of wine. And the King? He lived. Saved from the flames by the voluminous skirts of his aunt. They say, “the French sovereign was never the same again.” Overcome by madness, he was later rendered unfit to rule.

Here's another gem. On August 4, 1983 a Yankee’s ball player was arrested for killing a seagull with a basball in “Murder Mysteries? The A-Girl and the Seagull.” He claimed it was an unfortunate accident while playing catch with the left fielder during warmups, but several eyewitness accounts swore it was deliberate. He was released on bail the same day.

Wouldn’t a masked ball or party with an epic failure of some kind or an absurd action that gets your character arrested spice up your plot? Maybe you pick the fourteenth century royal court of King Charles to set your next story. There are so many ways to use Farguhar’s unique collection.

So, is truth really stranger than fiction? I believe this work supports that maxim.

And, if you liked Michael Farquhar’s Bad Days in History, try his latest release, More Bad Days in History: The Delightfully Dismal, Day-by-Day Saga of Ignominy, Idiocy, and Incompetence Continues.

WHAT IS IT ABOUT APRIL? by Michael Rigg

Remember the soothsayer’s warning about the Ides of March? Well, history teaches us that we should be more wary about the Ides (and other days) of April, notwithstanding that old saw about April showers bringing May flowers. Consider this list: Abraham Lincoln murdered by John Wilkes Booth, the Titanic’s unplanned meeting with an iceberg, the 1927 Great Mississippi River Flood (the worst flood in U.S. history), the San Franciso earthquake, the Virginia Tech shooting, the Oklahoma City Bombing, and Columbine High School—which happened on April 20^th, the birthday of that little Austrian Corporal who caused such death and destruction in the Second World War. Each of these horrific events, and likely many others, occurred in April.

And you don’t need to take my word that April is a Disaster-O-Rama. For a more comprehensive listing of events and a comparison of April with other months, see the post: Does More Tragedy Happen In April? - GeekDad. I suspect that you might need a bit of bourbon as the spark of recognition, and perhaps fear, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention.

But we can’t just stay under the covers for an entire month, can we? We have lives to lead. Books to write. Families to raise. So, despite what challenges April may bring, we must do our best to cope, to deal with each hurdle that presents itself. Right?

So, you think your April has been rough? This blog highlights a book one of the most challenging months of April ever to face us as Americans, a month that could have brought about the destruction of our nation—and of government of the people, by the people, and for the people.

In April 1865: The Month That Saved America, Jay Winik delivers a compelling narrative detailing the last days of the American Civil War and our first steps toward national reconciliation. Our experiment with disunion didn’t happen overnight. The cannonade against Fort Sumter in 1861—another April event—might have been the final spark, but, as Winik painstakingly details, threats of secession—from every geographic quarter, not just the South—haunted our nation almost immediately after John Hancock signed the Declaration of Independence.

However we got there, four wars of civil war took their toll. Over 600,000 Americans—nearly one-twelfth of the Northern states’ population and one-fifth of the Southern states’ population—lay dead. Southern cities smoldered in ruin. An attempt to behead the government, including President Lincoln’s assassination and attacks on the Vice President and Secretary of State, had nearly succeeded. Bitterness from the brother-versus-brother conflict could have easily plunged our country into an ongoing Hatfield-McCoy nightmare. But that future didn’t come to pass. Why?

According to Winik:

April 1865 was incontestably one of America’s finest hours: for it was not the deranged spirit of an assassin that defined the country at the war’s end, but the conciliatory spirit of the leaders who led as much as in peace as in war, warriors and politicians who, by their example, their exhortation, and their deeds, overcame their personal rancor, their heartache, and spoke as citizens of not two lands but one, thereby bringing the country together. True, much hard work remained. But much, too, had already been accomplished.

As is often the case, books like April 1865: The Month That Saved America, provide perspective and lessons beyond the historical situation discussed. Some might argue that we, today, face another crisis of national identity and unity. I’ll let you reach your own judgment on that point. But I’ll leave you with this disturbing question: One-hundred years hence, will a college history professor write a book called April 2024: The Month that Doomed America?

I hope not. Mirroring Winik’s basic premise, I pray that our current batch of leaders and politicians may “. . . by their example, their exhortation, and their deeds, overcame their personal rancor, [and] their heartache,” to recall that we are citizens of a single nation, with a single flag, and a common commitment to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Oh my! This is supposed to be a blog about mystery writing by the sea. Why are we even thinking about the calamities of April and the potential destruction of our way of life? It’s the story. April 1865: The Month That Saved America is both great history and a great story. And, April 1865 unfolded, no one knew how it would end. Once you read this book, I think you will agree that it reads like a novel, full of twists-and-turns and cliff hangers. Fiction or non-fiction, a great narrative is a thing to behold. Fiction speculates about what characters—people invented in the writer’s imagination—will do in response to circumstances. Non-fiction tells us how real people reacted.

Here's wishing you a happy and uneventful remainder of April. Those May flowers will be with us soon, I hope.  

 

CREATIVITY FOR THE LOVE OF IT, PART 2: FANWORKS by Max Jason Peterson

The Magicians by Lev Grossman

This is the second post in my series about art for art’s sake. Part One focuses on poetry. Today I’m going to talk about another form of creativity for the love of it that enriches my life: fanworks.

Fanworks are art forms dreamed up by fans for other fans to enjoy, sharing their love of the original creator’s characters and world. The fans who make them often introduce as many people as they can—friends, family, total strangers—to the original works that provide the foundation of their own. Though some people who create fanworks also have professional lives or ambitions as artists or writers, the majority are only interested in making art for their fandoms. Many are amazingly talented, designing things of great power and beauty. And the love shines through, touching other fans. There’s a great spirit of generosity and community here, which is important: for fanworks are paid only in appreciation and the joy of playing in a beloved universe.

Indeed, “joyful play” is the name of the game: this apt description for fanfiction comes from Naomi Novik, author of the Temeraire series of fantasy novels and cofounder of Archive of Our Own, a nonprofit and inclusive repository of fanworks that received a Hugo Award in 2019 for Best Related Work. A fanfic author herself, she’s among those interviewed for “The Boy Who Lived Forever,” an insightful article about fanfic by Lev Grossman, author of the Magicians series of fantasy novels—whose characters and world I celebrate in my own fanworks.

DETECTABLE by Judy Fowler

 

It’s spring—a time when reminders of my annual medical appointments pop up in my text feed like the daffodils outside my writing room window.    

Doctors’ offices remind me of police stations, which remind me of crime fiction. I don’t want to play the protagonist in a real-life thriller if I can help it. Since achieving a certain unmentionable age, when I hear myself say, “Uh-huh. Dr. Smith, Thursday the sixth, 11:45 a.m. Got it,” I know there’s a chance I’ll end up in a specialist’s office.

I recall when my retired inlaws put up a large calendar reserved for medical appointments in their kitchen. Now that I've started highlighting my doctors’ appointments in bright orange, I see why they did that. If I see the appointment coming, I've got a few days to get my story straight before the gumshoe in the white lab coat starts asking questions. 

Despite that preparation time, I always confess to something I meant to keep secret. Maybe it’s the way they send out an informant to put me on the scale just before my interview. It puts me on my back foot so that I feel guilty when I’m left alone in the cold interview room waiting for the lead detective to arrive.

Armed with evidence of my weight, it’s not hard for the investigator to get me to cop to other things, like how much coffee I drink or how little I exercise on the days I write. Unlike a tag team of trenchcoat-wearing detectives with little brown notebooks, the lone medic in white plays both good and bad cop while typing out everything I say.

The detection rate for murders is 90%, but the detection rate for cholesterol must be higher. That’s according to an informal survey of friends my age now. At seven years old, I feared the word “shot” the way I now fear the word “statin.”

My instinct as a writer to say whatever I'm thinking often leads to a specialist referral. For example, a few years back, after an eventless annual physical, I noticed aloud that my previously shapely legs seemed to be “looking more and more like my grandmother’s legs.” Out came the referral pad. As the song goes, the leg thing's connected to a neck thing. Now I’m serving two to five with a specialist whose prescription—after getting a blood sample and checking me for neck polyps twice every year—is for me to drink more water.

Before a friend's primary care physician died a few years back, all the patients received invitations to reminisce at a gathering in a downtown bar. Their final prescription? Get good and drunk. That sounds like a detective to me.

I don't know how these Sherlocks--criminal or medical--feel after another day of uncovering humanity's foibles and weaknesses. They deserve to tie one on at happy hour. It’s nice to know that one practitioner of the art of detection thought his patients deserved that, too.