2011 Edgar Nominee: Book Review: The Queen of Patpong by Timothy Hallinan

The Queen of Patpong

By Timothy Hallinan

     Timothy Halllinan has written nine thrillers, including a series featuring travel writer Poke Rafferty.  This novel is the fourth in the Poke Rafferty series.  The novel is set in Bangkok.  Poke is married to a former dancer from the notorious red-light district of Bangkok, Patpong Road.  They have an adopted daughter, a street child who is now a teenager.  This is all back story which evolved over the first three books. 

     This novel starts with Rose now running an employment agency which helps former exotic dancers and prostitutes transition to a more traditional and socially acceptable lifestyle.  Poke continues to write and their daughter Miaow is starring as Ariel in her school’s presentation of Shakespeare’s The Tempest.  Life for this family has settled into somewhat of a routine when an ugly reminder of Rose’s past resurfaces.  Howard Horner is an independent defense contractor working in Afghanistan who likes to take breaks in Thailand.  He had become quite possessive of Rose early in her career and had dubbed her The Queen of Patpong.  He resurfaces in Bangkok and seems bound and determined to make life miserable for the Rafferty family, following and harassing them daily.  Rose, in particular seems terrified of this man.

       The middle third of the book tells the story of Kwan, a beautiful tall girl from a small impoverished village in northern Thailand.  The girl is the oldest of five children and her father attempts to sell her in to prostitution in Bangkok in order to make ends meet.  Kwan is then lured away from this situation by a former town girl who promises her that if Kwan follows her back to Bangkok, she will just have  to work as a bar girl and “not do anything she doesn’t want to do.”   Kwan travels to Bangkok and is then immediately swept up into the exotic dancing and prostitution of Patpong Road despite promises to the contrary.  There she remains until she is selected by Howard Horner who renames her “Rose”.  Their relationship turns violent and a brutal confrontation occurs on a boat near the resort city of Phuket.  Rose escapes, hides for several years and then reinvents herself in Bangkok with her employment agency and new family.

        The concluding third of the book is an investigation by Poke into Howard Horner and the realization that Rose is just one of many girls Howard has taken and then killed.  As the lone survivor, Rose is a threat to his freedom.  There is an ultra-violent conclusion to this story which involves car chases, knives and multiple automatic weapons.  Leave it said that justice is served.

      This book was interesting on several levels.  It seems to be a thoroughly researched book and the descriptions of the Patpong Road environment are lurid.  As a sociologic statement on the treatment of young girls and women in Southeast Asia it is damning.  As a serial killer story it is fairly mundane and the characters of Howard Horner and his accomplice are pretty standard.  The Rafferty family is interesting and these are the strongest characters in the story.  I enjoyed reading this book, but I doubt that I will go back and read any of the others. 

We Love the Outer Banks - Part 3

We Love the Outer Banks – Part 3

     Well, we’re  home in Lynchburg and, to be quite honest, not that happy about it.  We had a wonderful relaxing week on the Outer Banks, exploring the Northern Beaches for the first time.  We had a grand time going back to Corolla with my wife’s sister and brother-in-law, visiting the Currituck Light House and driving nearly to Carova on the beach.  The highlight of that outing was actually seeing a number of the wild horses “up close and personal” without having to take one of the guided horse tours. 

   

      On Friday we drove to Collington Harbor to our favorite OBX fish market “Billy’s Seafood.”  The fish is always incredibly fresh and reasonably priced.  We picked up tuna, flounder and salmon for a feast which turned out to be an early, surprise birthday dinner for yours truly.  We had fun playing cornhole, had a fantastic meal and watched “We Bought A Zoo” which was a delightful movie.  We saw all of the kids off on Saturday afternoon, had one last dinner at the “Sunset Grill and Raw Bar” (See Part 1) then started packing the car for the dreaded ride home. 

     The Outer Banks is a very special place.  These narrow barrier islands are unique in their own right, but also have been an interesting and vital part of our family for nearly 35 years now.  The thought of living there in retirement is exciting, but then again, would some of the special-ness go away if we were there all of the time?  Stay tuned for the answer to that one which will hopefully evolve in the not too distant future.

We Love the Outer Banks - Part 2 - Where "Carrico's Theory of Relativity" is Explained

We Love the Outer Banks – Part 2

     You don’t have to be Einstein to realize that clocks move faster and time slips by at greater speed when you are on vacation.  Call it the "Carrico Theory of Relativity".  One day it’s Sunday and you are unpacking the car and you turn around twice and its Thursday.

     We have had a great weather week despite some low temperatures at night. It has been sunny enough that we have been able to spend “quality time” daily on the beach with our two year old Australian Shepherd (Meeko) who is having the time of his young life.  He likes the surf  - alternately barking at and then jumping in the waves.  He has learned to catch a Frisbee (this still needs some work, but he’s trying) and is intrigued by the surf fishermen.  He still has a problem trying to eat random objects like skate egg casings, but we’re working on that as well.

     On Monday we got out our bicycles and started exploring Duck, N.C. on very wel- constructed bike paths.  We made the obligatory grocery run to Harris-Teeter (remembering fondly when we had a decent grocery store in Lynchburg) and bought some fresh Mahi-Mahi to grill at a local store called "Tommy's Gourmet Market and Wine Emporium".  We liked the name.  We also bought a half pound of shrimp, so I hope Dr. Dan Carey, my cardiologist, doesn’t read this.    It was shorts weather on Monday and we took full advantage with lots of beach time in addition to bikes and dog training.

     We did find one store just for Meeko - The Outer Barks in Duck.  They have every dog accessory imaginable.  Meeko got a new pirate kerchief.  We are returning Friday at 5 for "Yappy Hour" where they serve doggie beverages and doggie treat hors d'oeuvres.

     On Tuesday we met up with Gary Smith, an old friend from Bishop O’Connell High School in Arlington who has lived in Corolla since 1996 and owns and runs the Corolla Surf Shop.  Gary spent a good bit of the day showing us the sights and different neighborhoods in Corolla.  There are multiple year-round homes for sale, and this may very well suit for a retirement destination.  We haven’t been bold enough to contact a realtor yet.  We even took Ellen’s Xterra Pro-4X on its maiden off road adventure!  We rode the beach North towards Carova looking for wild horses but, alas, didn’t see any.   Gary is very entrenched in the local community and was an invaluable source of information for us.  Thanks, Gary!  Gary also has a surfing school he runs out of the Surf Shop and he says most of his students are rank amateurs, so if you’re vacationing down here and want to learn to surf, I’d recommend connecting with Gary. They even take internet reservations prior to your arrival! We had some amazing fish tacos for lunch at a restaurant whose name I can’t remember.  I’m sorry there isn’t much photographic evidence of this day as we were having too much fun catching up and chatting to stop and take pictures.

                                             Gary, from his Facebook page:

     On Wednesday we drove down to our old stomping grounds in Manteo and Nags Head.  It was sad seeing the decaying remains of The Weeping Radish, one of our favorite restaurants and micr-breweries of all time.  It was exciting seeing a nice new bookstore, “Duck’s Cottage Downtown,” which has replaced an old favorite, Manteo Booksellers on Sir Walter Raleigh Street.  We puttered around the Outlet Mall and finally landed at Sam and Omie’s, a fantastic local restaurant on Virginia Dare Trail in Nags Head.  Sam and Omie’s remains one of the few constants on the ever-changing Outer Banks, having been there seemingly forever.  The employees are great and the food is even better.

Potato Skins ("Bippity-Boppity-BACON!")

                                                            Grilled Tuna

                                                    Flounder Special:

     So, following Carrico’s Theory of Relativity, it’s now Thursday when it feels like it should be like Tuesday at the latest.  We have kids and relatives coming in for the weekend, so we look forward to that.  We have enjoyed our quiet time but relish the thought of a houseful of folks!  The grill is ready, beer is in the fridge and, who knows?  Maybe somebody else will walk the dog!!

2012 Edgar Nominee: Book Review: The Ranger by Ace Atkins

The Ranger

By Ace Atkins

     The Ranger is an interesting snapshot of rural Southern life: a life with little hope of escape and crime as the main alternative to a mundane meager existence.  The basic plot line involves Quinn Colson, an Army Ranger home on leave after several tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan.  He returns to Tibbehah County, Mississippi to attend the funeral of his uncle, Hampton Beckett.  This uncle was a father figure to Quinn, his own absentee father chasing a dream as a stunt man in Hollywood.  His uncle had been the respected county sheriff for years and his death was ruled a suicide.  Quinn immediately suspects foul play and begins his own investigation which involves bending many laws and stepping on a lot of toes.

     Quinn quickly recruits an ally, a female deputy sheriff named Lillie Virgil who shares his doubts about the official investigation and its conclusions.  Together they gather information that points towards a larger conspiracy regarding Quinn’s uncle’s death.  Complicating matters, a local councilman threatens to take the farm Quinn has inherited from his uncle to pay off some nebulous and poorly documented debts, possibly related to a bad gambling habit. 

     There are other interesting characters in this novel, all of whom demonstrate some despondency related their social plight.  There is a pregnant teen who we meet early in the story who is searching for the baby's father.  She plays a huge role in the story's conclusion.  Quinn’s Mom is raising a mixed race grand-child, left on her doorstep by Quinn’s wild sister Caddy.  There is also a high school buddy of Quinn’s, a large black man who also served several tours of duty in the Global War on Terror.  This fellow did not escape unscathed, however, and lost an arm in an encounter with a roadside bomb in Fallujah.

     There is also Anna Lee Stevens, Quinn’s high school sweetheart who dumped him while he was on duty in Iraq and is now married to the local doctor.  There seems to some old fires still burning, at least for Anna Lee, although Quinn seems immune to her interests.  There are actually two opportunities for a romantic angle in this novel which are never quite developed (in the sequel, perhaps?).  One is with Anna Lee and the other is with Lillie the deputy.  Quinn is so focused on solving the mystery of his uncle’s death and ridding his home county of crime and corruption that he seems oblivious to these women.

     This rag-tag cast of characters scrapes off the layers of respectability in the county and reveals a large scale methamphetamine production system which encompasses a good number of the local citizenry.  The meth labs are managed by a ruthless group of separatists who live in the abandoned fields of the county.  The whole scheme is fueled by a Memphis based syndicate which is pulling the strings, managing the corruption and payoffs from up-river.

     The setting of North-Eastern Mississippi is very well described by the author, the rural farm roads, creeks and abandoned barns all playing roles in a rapidly evolving story.  This sense of loneliness and seperateness adds to the credibility of the entire narrative.  Atkins describes one ride Quinn took with the new Sheriff Wesley:

“He found a country music station, and they blared some good outlaw stuff from back in the day, zipping down all those hidden country roads, passing forgotten cemeteries and crumbling gas stations, nothing but gravel and dirt.  Quinn switched with Wesley, and Wesley took the car bumping up and over the road into an overgrown field, crashing through a rotting fence and spinning out in the mud and dust, nearly getting stuck in a a ravine, but then redlining her again and mashing that pedal till they were back onto the country road leading to the farm.:”

     I enjoyed reading this novel, even though I wouldn’t classify it as a “mystery” in the sense that I would expect from an Edgar nominee.  It, like Field Gray is more of a classic thriller.  The plot is a bit predictable and formulaic, but the overall novel succeeds because of the strength of the characters and the evocative descriptions of the setting in rural Mississippi.  I would recommend The Ranger to readers who enjoy action packed (read “violent”) novels with excellent characters, set in a unique and well-described location.

We Love the Outer Banks - Part 1

We love the Outer Banks – Part 1

     My wife and I have been vacationing on North Carolina’s Outer Banks since 1979.  The first place we stayed was a hotel in south Nags Head called “The Armada”.   Some locals purchased the hotel from a hotel chain and switched the first to letters in the name to save money on a new sign.  That’s the Outer Banks in a nutshell – they survive.  They survive hurricanes, Northeasters and extremes of temperature on both ends of the thermometer.  Actually, the people here do more than survive – they thrive on adversity.  They joke about the hurricanes as and wear t-shirts about Irene, Charlie or whatever most recent storm has struck their homes as they rebuild their docks, beach accesses and even the two lanes of asphalt known as Route 12which connect all of the small villages and towns along these barrier islands. 

     We were home-owners in Nags Head for a few years.  We had a three bedroom house on the Beach Road (formally known as Virginia Dare Trail) with beautiful sound views and easy beach access across the street.   We enjoyed this home away from home while our children were little, but absentee ownership became more difficult once we moved farther west in Virginia and we sold the house in the mid-90s.  We haven’t been visiting the Outer Banks as frequently since, but each time we come back we wonder why we ever leave. 

     The Outer Banks are the most relaxing place I have ever been.  I can feel my blood pressure notch down a good ten or twelve points as we drive across the Wright Brothers Bridge from the mainland.  Life slows down.  Life becomes defined by the local rhythms of the surf, sunrise/sunset and the check-in/check-out turnover of tourists each weekend.  Simple predictable rhythms define a slower more enjoyable existence.

This year we decided to explore the Northern Beach area of the Outer Banks.  We know a lot about the Southern Beaches, having stayed everywhere from Kill Devil Hills to Hatteras.  We rented a house in Duck, which is about 15 miles or so north of the Wright Brothers Bridge.  We arrived on Easter Sunday to a beautiful sunny day with mild winds and temperatures in the 70s.    In a word: heaven.  We traveled with our two year old Australian Shepherd (Meeko).   This is his first road trip and his first glimpse of the beach.  Meeko got his first romp in the surf and then we went in search of seafood!  We found the Fishbone’s Sunset Grille and Raw Bar and had a wonderful dinner while watching a spectacular sunset over the Sound.  A great dinner in a perfect setting!    If the rest of the week is half as much fun as this first day, we may in fact never leave!!!!

Fishbone's Sunset Grill and Raw Bar, Duck, NC

Blackened Tuna

Grilled Mahi-Mahi

Ahhhh!  Paradise!

Book Review: Blood, Bones & Butter by Gabrielle Hamilton

Blood, Bones and Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef

Gabrielle Hamilton

      This memoir was the February selection of “The Huffington Post” book club.  I anticipated that this would be a similar book to Heat, Bill Buford’s hilarious account of his year of apprenticeship in a New York restaurant kitchen.  Gabrielle Hamilton’s book is much more, however.  It is a coming of age story, a search-for-life’s meaning memoir and a primer in food preparation all rolled into one delectable package. 

     

      Blood, Bones and Butter is divided into three more or less distinct sections.  In the first part, the author describes a counter-cultural upbringing.  Her mother is French and loves to cook.  She has an almost magical power of being able to create a meal out of any available ingredients.  Her father is an artist of sorts, working as a set designer for theaters in northern New Jersey.  Gabrielle is exposed to a Bohemian lifestyle of backyard parties featuring roasted lamb, fancy pasta and vegetable salads prepared by her mother as well as large volumes of wine and marijuana.  Gabrielle and her siblings are abandoned by their parents when she is about 12.  A divorce sends her mother into an emotional shell.  Mom eventually retreats to a new home in Vermont leaving the “care” of the children to her irresponsible ex-husband.  Gabrielle attends alternative education schools popular in the 70s and finishes secondary school at age 16.  She supports herself with a series of jobs in local restaurants, starting out busing tables and mopping floors.  She also begins a drug habit and supplements her meager income by shoplifting.  After graduation Gabrielle moves in with her older sister in Manhattan.  She works in bars and learns how to skim money from the customers by destroying some charge tickets and pocketing the money.  She also learns to recreationally enjoy cocaine and realizes that she is a lesbian.  She is eventually caught stealing by her boss  and reaches a plea bargain since she was underage for working as a barmaid.  Gabrielle straightens herself out to some degree, at least enough to complete an undergraduate degree, all the while working in more restaurants and learning how to cook on the fly.   Following college she travels the globe for the better part of two years, experiencing many new and different things, particularly unique food and food preparation.  When she returns to New York, she incorporates much of what she learned on these travels into her cooking career.   She works as a contract chef for large catering companies in New York, a job which consumes eighteen to twenty hours per day and leaves her creatively and professionally unfulfilled.

      

      Gabrielle describes her life at this point as “a piece of performance art.”  She feels no sense of purpose and decides that what she really wants to be is a writer.  She has a glorified view of what the life of a poet/artist/writer would be like (undoubtedly influenced by her upbringing) and applies to multiple MFA programs.  She is accepted to and decides to attend the program at the University of Michigan, even though she had never been to the Midwest.  She develops a resentment towards the other students in her program, finding them to be effete pseudo-intellectuals.  Gabrielle takes another chef job to help ends meet and finds herself catering huge tailgate parties.  Her culinary creations are limited to barbecue, big slabs of beef and sandwiches.  She finishes the MFA program but quickly decides she misses “The City” and moves back to New York.  She finds herself absorbed back into the hectic contract chef business when an opportunity to open her own restaurant presents itself.  She works night and day to figure out how to run a small business and opens her now famous restaurant “Prune” in the East Village.  The story digresses here a bit as Gabrielle writes of the difficulties of being  female in a business dominated by males.   This concludes the second section of Blood, Bones and Butter.

     

      It is in the third section of the book where the author’s creative writing talent really shines.  She describes the endless, grueling work running Prune but her sense of accomplishment rings through here as well.  One of her regular customers, a male Italian research physician begins to court her and, to everyone’s surprise they marry.  They maintain separate residences and careers but manage to conceive two sons.  Gabrielle and her husband take off every July and travel to Italy to spend time with his family.  Over the years Gabrielle learns the simple pleasures of country Italian living and especially cooking.  She describes one shopping trip in the small town:

     “Then I go to the market.  On this, the first day back in Leuca, I am happy to see some my old favorites again: the puntarelle, the Leccese green beans, the small dense zucchini, and the eggplant.  I buy big bundles of all of them and lots of peaches and a watermelon.  Alda eats fruit after each meal and I think my kids will eat the watermelon.  The meat is dismal as usual but there is a fish stall with some good-looking stuff.  I get an octopus.  A ranzino.  A few pounds of head-on shrimp.”

    

      Despite a language barrier she forms a very strong bond with her mother-in-law Alda. It is in this extended family of eccentrics and very uncomplicated but contented folks that the author finds peace with herself, her own family and her career. 

     

       This book was a total joy to read.  The images that the author creates of Italy are outstanding.  She draws very detailed character sketches using a paucity of words and descriptions.  I would recommend this book highly to anyone who enjoys food, cooking, travel and in particular, fine writing

Book Review: Heat by Bill Buford

Heat by Bill Buford

Reviewed by Tom Carrico

     Bill Buford is a former editor of the “The New Yorker” magazine, founding editor of “Granta” magazine and publisher of Granta Books.  His hobby is cooking.  He cooked for friends and business associates and on one occasion for the renowned chef Mario Batali.  That occasion prompted Mr. Buford to quit his job at “The New Yorker” and sign on as an unpaid intern at Batali’s three star Italian restaurant Babbo in New York City.  This book is part memoir of that experience, part travelogue, part history of Italian cooking and part observatory character studies of the eccentric personalities the author encountered.  Add to this mixture a large aliquot of humor and you have the recipe for a thoroughly enjoyable book.

     The memoir portion of the book details his rise from “kitchen slave” to line cook (which included a stint at the grill station) and finally to pasta maker.  The author’s misadventures, including dicing the carrots too small, multiple injuries (including splatter burns and minor lacerations) and wasting food are all humorously documented.  The amazing aspect of all of this to me was how much this experience (although only lasting about a year) was reminiscent of my surgical residency.  The graded responsibility, the general fault-finding and learning from mistakes all seemed remarkably similar to that experience.  Initially, his superiors criticize every move and use every mistake as a “teaching opportunity” (usually involving screaming).  As he moves up the responsibility ladder, Mr. Buford relates his frustration when the kitchen manager (who in my mind represented the Surgical Chief Resident) demanding that certain orders be replated immediately for no apparent reason. 

     The even more fascinating portions of the book come about when Chef Batali talks to the author (“talking” here includes earsplitting fits of anger) and informs him that the only way to truly understand the art of cooking Italian food was to go to Italy and learn it first hand.  This is, in fact, the way Batali learned.  The author does indeed make many trips to Italy.  First he learns the fine art of pasta making from women who run a small restaurant and were taught their skills by their mother and their aunts, who in turn were taught by their mothers and aunts.  The reader learns the difference between pastasciutta and pasta fresca, when the egg was first introduced into the ingredients (it turns out nobody, including the curators of the Pasta Museum in Italy, are exactly sure, although sometime in the 13^th century is a good guess), and why machine made pasta is unacceptable.  On a return trip to Panzano (near Tuscany), Mr. Buford learns the art of the butcher from Dario Cecchini, who comes from a long line of master butchers.  Dario has the interesting habit of intermittently screaming long excerpts from The Divine Comedy alternating with singing excerpts from Mozart’s “Don Giovanni” while he works.  These “performances” are fueled by generous amounts of alcohol.  The meticulous care of knives, the various cuts of meat from pigs and cows and the appreciation for the preparation of meats as an art form are detailed. 

The cast of characters which Mr. Buford met while working at Babbo (including the maestro Batali) and traveling and living in Italy is colorful and very amusingly described by the author and is one of the strengths of Heat.  This cast includes the characters already described above as well as the other restaurant workers who jealously guard their secrets of success, the Italians who courageously defend their ancient cooking arts in a modern world as well as the menagerie which makes up the restaurant world in New York City (including patrons, competing chefs and newspaper food critics). 

     I don’t know if this was the best book to read while trying to adopt a “heart-healthy” diet and mode of living, but I know that even under those circumstances this was a thoroughly enjoyable, entertaining, humorous and even informative book.  I would recommend  Heat by Bill Buford very highly to anyone who enjoys a well written and humorous memoir.