Literary Links

GOODREADS HACKS: GET A DNF SHELF, MARK REREADS, AND MORE

If you find it hard to keep up with all the cool kids who use Goodreads to track their reading, this article will put you in the know about some of the more esoteric aspects. The main subject here is how to create a DNF (did not finish) shelf that won’t include the books placed there in your number of books read statistics. But there are a few other nifty nuggets of knowledge here as well, along with links to several other articles explaining how to use Goodreads. An avid reader’s bonanza!

How We Need Diverse Books Changed The Literary World, According To 15 Publishing Pros

When We Need Diverse Books was founded by a team of writers, illustrators, and publishing professionals, it was meant to shake up the publishing industry from the inside. Led by the original Executive Committee — Ellen Oh, Lamar Giles, Marieke Nijkamp, Miranda Paul, Aisha Saeed, Karen Sandler, and Ilene Wong — and supported by the original PR team — Stacey Lee and SE Sinkhorn — We Need Diverse Books was created to fight for more diversity in children’s and young adult book publishing at every level, among authors, editors, marketers, agents, publishers, and more. First and foremost, they wanted authors from marginalized communities to be given opportunities to have their voices heard in the overwhelmingly white, heterosexual, cisgender industry. And the results have been clear.

Fifteen publishing professionals discuss “why they believe We Need Diverse Books has changed publishing forever, and what they hope for the future.”

Toni Morrison and Nina Simone, United in Soul

Emily Lordi discusses how much Toni Morrison was influenced by contemporary musicians:

Her work resonates with the music of those soul artists alongside whom she honed her craft: the grand ambition of Isaac Hayes, the moral clarity of Curtis Mayfield, and the erotic truth-telling of Aretha Franklin. But the soul artist who is most closely aligned with Morrison is Nina Simone. “She saved our lives,” Morrison said of the singer, after Simone’s death, in 2003. Simone meant so much to her, and to other black women, I think, in part because of how she turned social exclusion into superlative beauty and style. It was this recuperative alchemy that defined soul, as a music and an ethos. And, if Simone was soul’s “High Priestess,” Morrison was one of its literary architects.

From Baba Yaga to Hermione Granger: why we’re spellbound by ‘witcherature’

Vengeful, seductive, feminist, misogynist … witches have appeared in many forms in literature. Now a new generation of novelists are falling under their spell.

Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett, writing in the U.K. newspaper The Guardian, addresses the current literary fascination with witches:

There has been a perennial literary fascination with witches; they are, as Marion Gibson, professor of Renaissance and magical literatures at Exeter University says, “a shorthand symbol for persecution and resistance – misogyny and feminism in particular”. In a #MeToo world, where Donald Trump – a fan of the term “witch-hunt” – is US president, it is really no surprise that female writers are examining the role of the witch in new ways.

Cosslett explains that women of her generation, who came of age in the 1990s with TV programs such as Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are now producing literature and films that grapple with perennial questions of power and agency. She also looks a bit at the history of witches in literature, from novels such as Jane Eyre to John Updike’s The Witches of Eastwick.

In Praise of Samuel R. Delany

In my effort to read more science fiction, I often come across references to Samuel R. Delany’s seminal novel Dhalgren. Here novelist Jordy Rosenberg discusses how Delany’s fiction “reflects and explores the social truths of our world.” He includes a list of works to start with for readers looking to introduce themselves to Delany’s body of work.

How Tana French Inhabits the Minds of Her Detectives

The crime-fiction writer on unreliable narrators, real-world sources, and the breakdown of genre boundaries in her work.

© 2019 by Mary Daniels Brown

Literary Links

Why we need to stop forcing ourselves to finish books we hate

When I was younger, I felt that I had to finish every book I started. But some time around my 40th birthday I realized that I had probably completed about half my life and no longer had the luxury of time to waste on books I wasn’t enjoying or learning from. I was therefore glad to come across this article by Sarah Shaffi, who writes:

It’s taken me decades to get to the point where I can start a book, realise I’m not liking it, and then just stop reading it. The first time I put DNF – Did Not Finish in book geek parlance – on my book spreadsheet (what? I read a lot for work and a spreadsheet is a good way to keep track), I felt relieved, freed, and a little rebellious.

Life is too short, and there are too many books to carry on reading one you’re not enjoying. Think of it less as quitting one book, and more as making room in your life for another that you could potentially love.

And while I completely agree with her here, I also think there’s a certain etiquette for discussing books that you DNF. First, when you discuss the book, you don’t have the right to simply declare it a “bad” or “badly written” book or a book that you simply “didn’t like.” You DO have the right to say that you didn’t finish it and then explain why it didn’t work for you or what, specifically, you didn’t like about it. The keywords here are specifically and why.

Second, if you belong to a book club and for some reason can’t finish the book by the meeting time, please resist the urge to say, “Don’t talk about the ending. I haven’t finished it yet.” Sure, life happens, and sometimes you won’t be able to finish on time. But the ending is a major aspect of any book, particularly novels, and often a meaningful discussion requires analysis of the ending.  

On, In, or Near the Sea: A Book List

There’s still a bit of summer left, and if you’re still looking for that perfect “beach read,” Alison Fields has suggestions. After pondering the various definitions of that term, she settles on this one: “Books about beaches, seas, sand, and coastal destinations to accompany the end of the summer season and the first stirrings of the fall.

woman reading on beach near ocean

What I Teach: Seven Titles From a High School Class on Trauma Literature

We learn a lot about life from literature, including how to process various kinds of traumas. But I was surprised to find this article by Kate McQuade, who has for more than 10 years taught a high school class on trauma literature. 

By now I’ve accumulated a lot of answers, particularly for those skeptical that young people should be exposed to literature about war, genocide, and violence. I tell them that learning about trauma is not the same thing as experiencing trauma; I tell them that even though the literature we cover is difficult intellectually and emotionally, my course is less about mourning traumatic events than exploring what it means to depict them in art; and I tell them that shielding teenagers from the world’s historical truths not only fails to protect them, but does them a disservice as young people about to inherit that world.

And here’s why, McQuade says, she teaches such a course:

Most people think trauma literature is about trauma. In fact, trauma literature is at least as much about the problematics of storytelling as it is about actual traumatic events. It’s about the difficulty of representing the truth of an experience so horribly extraordinary that it cannot be contained within the human mind, let alone within the borders of a page. It’s about, in the words of trauma scholar Dori Laub, the simultaneous “imperative to tell” and “impossibility of telling.”

Read about seven of the literary works she uses to demonstrate the paradox “of how to represent the unrepresentable.”

Toni Morrison on Her Last Novel and the Voices of Her Characters

A lot was written after the recent death of Toni Morrison, but this article, which addresses “how her protagonists have changed the direction of her stories,” is one of my favorites.

READING AS PROTEST: HOW I MANAGE THE GUILT OF READING IN TUMULTOUS TIMES

Last week’s links included WHY READ FICTION IN THIS AGE OF ATROCITY? So it seemed only fair to include this article when I came across it. Abby Hargreaves asks:

Why should I be reading when there are children and adults in “detention centers” with horrific conditions? Why should I be flipping through pages when people are being murdered for being themselves? How can I justify a few hours of contentment with a book when the so-called leader of my country is, at a minimum, a blatant racist?

(If you doubt the accuracy of the assertions in these questions, Harreaves provides links to supporting material in the article.)

“The thing is, resistance fatigue is a real thing,” she writes. “If reading is how you recharge, it is well within the realm of morals to read.”

© 2019 by Mary Daniels Brown

Literary Links

WHY READ FICTION IN THIS AGE OF ATROCITY?

Content Warning: This piece discusses recent sexual assault headlines.

I want to be as frank with you as is possible: it is increasingly hard for me to find joy or purpose in reading lately, specifically novels. I find myself asking, why read fiction at all when the world is falling apart around me?

D.R. Baker, “a transgender, nonbinary person,” continues to grapple with this question as the distressing headlines continue to pile up.

How to Spend a Literary Long Weekend in Hartford, Connecticut

Because I was born, and spent the first 19 years of my life, in Connecticut, here’s a literary tour of significant places in and around the state’s capital of Hartford. Featured writers include “Mark Twain, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Wallace Stevens, and more.”

Herman Melville at Home

Jill Lepore searches for a picture of the private Herman Melville in The New Yorker during the celebration of the 200th anniversary of his birth.

THE MOST POPULAR UNDER-THE-RADAR LIBRARY BOOKS ACROSS THE U.S. SO FAR THIS YEAR

Bestseller lists and book recommendations of best books to read abound, but in this piece Kelly Jensen discusses the Panorama Project, which “looks at the books most frequently requested at libraries across the U.S. and breaks down the popularity by region.” This project can produce a glimpse below all the big, popular titles for “a more micro level look at books which are popular by specific areas of the country.”

The result is lists of fiction and nonfiction for both adults and YA readers exclusive of “well known bestsellers, book club selections and other heavily promoted titles.” Look here for suggestions of books your regional neighbors are checking out from their local libraries.

THE NOVELIST WHO SCANDALIZED VICTORIAN ENGLAND

the novels of Mary Elizabeth Braddon, and the “sensation” fiction she pioneered, left an imprint on literature that remains today.

At age 17 Braddon began acting “in everything from comedies to burlesques to Shakespeare.” This background in theater gave her a sense of story and plot that allowed her to turn to writing novels for the masses, books that “earned [her] a reputation as a writer with a knack for presenting the more scandalous side of the upper classes.”

© 2019 by Mary Daniels Brown

Literary Links

SCI-FI DOESN’T HAVE TO BE DEPRESSING: WELCOME TO SOLARPUNK

Welcome to solarpunk, a new genre within science fiction that is a reaction against the perceived pessimism of present-day sci-fi and hopes to bring optimistic stories about the future with the aim of encouraging people to change the present. The first book that explicitly identified as solarpunk was Solarpunk: Histórias ecológicas e fantásticas em um mundo sustentável (Solarpunk: Ecological and Fantastic Stories in a Sustainable World), a Brazilian book published in 2012. In 2014, author Adam Flynn wrote Solarpunk: Notes Toward a Manifesto.

Tom Cassauwers reports that this new genre began to take off in 2017.

Listen up: why we can’t get enough of audiobooks

Audiobook sales are booming. This article looks at the inevitable question: “is there really a measurable difference between reading with the eyes and ‘reading’ with the ears?”

Crime writers mystified by Colm Tóibín’s criticism

Colm Tóibín recently revived the age-old, snobbish distinction between literary fiction and genre fiction by declaring “I can’t do any genre-fiction books, really, none of them. I just get bored with the prose. I don’t find any rhythm in it. It’s blank, it’s nothing.”

WHEN CRIME AUTHORS WRITE NON-CRIME BOOKS

Lisa Levy discusses eight books by “crime authors moonlighting in other forms of literature.”

Bonus: for another take on enjoying literature that crosses genres, see A Book You Didn’t Know You Needed.

Enjoying Literary Classics

I came across two pieces about enjoying works of literature that have stood the test of time. 

1. Please Take This Summer to Become Obsessed With The Group 

Mikaella Clements writes about her enjoyment of Mary McCarthy’s novel The Group, published in 1963 and set in 1933, which she describes as “alarmingly modern”:

Though its politics are deeply rooted in the 1930s—the novel addresses the idea of the New Woman, the optimism of socialism before WWII and the Eastern Bloc, and the rise of fascism—it is as much about the feminist movement of the 60s and the pitfalls of cultural movements that posit themselves as revolutionary and instead find new ways to minimize, cage, and hurt women.

2. LAURA LIPPMAN: MY 35-YEAR LOVE AFFAIR WITH MARJORIE MORNINGSTAR

Novelist Laura Lippman discusses Herman Wouk’s 1955 novel Marjorie Morningstar, “which I have re-read every year for almost 35 years.” She calls it “a unicorn of a book—a so-called women’s novel, written by a man, that takes its heroine very seriously.” 

Lippman says that she doesn’t know whether Marjorie Morningstar is a great book. “But it is a serious book that finds a big, sprawling story in what seems like a small, narrow life. More novels, even crime novels, should dare to do the same.”

The Rise of Rural Noir

When we hear the word “noir,” our minds flash to black-and-white movies driven by hard-boiled, big-city detectives. But in the 21st century, a new genre of crime fiction has risen from the swamps, mountains, and suburbs of the South. Norris Eppes interviews seven rural noir masters to make sense of a thrilling literary genre that rings true to our region.

The authors interviewed here are Brian Panowich, Ace Atkins, Karin Slaughter, Attica Locke, Tom Franklin, James Sallis, and John Hart.

© 2019 by Mary Daniels Brown

Books to Read for World Refugee Awareness Month | Bookish

June is World Refugee Awareness Month. To bring insight into the diverse experiences of refugees, we’ve rounded up some of the best books by and about refugees. Whether you’re interested in reading a memoir, a reported work of nonfiction, a novel, or sharing a story with a young reader, there’s a book here for everyone. Read on, and enjoy some deep conversations inspired by these thought-provoking books.

Source: Books to Read for World Refugee Awareness Month | Bookish

Close Reading: A Pivotal Scene in “The Silent Patient”

When I posted about The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides, I wondered how many people actually engage with the text of mysteries or thrillers instead of just skimming to find out how the story ends. Michaelides leads the reader along so scintillatingly that a large part of the pleasure of reading this novel lies in recognizing the significance of its stylistic details.

A good example of how this process works occurs early in the novel, when first-person narrator Theo Faber joins his wife, Kathy, an actress, at a bar: “I went to meet Kathy at the National Theatre café on the South Bank, where the performers would often congregate after rehearsal” (p. 45). Kathy is telling “a couple of fellow actresses” the story of how she and Theo met. “It was a story she enjoyed telling,” says Theo.

Kathy begins her story of the night she was at a bar with a guy she wasn’t really interested in “‘when suddenly it happened—Mr. Right walked in.’ Kathy looked at me and smiled and rolled her eyes. ‘With his girlfriend’” (p. 46). 

“This part of the story needed careful handling to retain her audience’s sympathy,” Theo tells us.

Notice what is actually going on here. Kathy, an actress, is performing for her acting friends. This is a well rehearsed story that she enjoys telling with melodramatic effect.

Theo’s narrative of Kathy’s performance continues: “No, but . . . darling . . . seriously, it was love at first sight. Wasn’t it?” Kathy asks, turning to Theo.

“This was my cue,” Theo says. “I nodded and kissed her cheek. ‘Of course it was. True love.’”

Once again, notice what is actually going on here. Kathy is performing, but so is Theo. They have obviously told this story together several times. The statement “This was my cue” lets us know that he is in on the performance. 

So Theo, like Kathy, is a performer. Maybe the entire narrative he’s telling in this book is a performance, too.

Theo’s story of coming upon Kathy telling her friends how they met ends, but he continues with his own memory of what happened later that night. Theo tells us that he and Kathy went back to his apartment and made love all night:

I remember so much white everywhere: white sunlight creeping around the edges of the curtains, white walls, white bedsheets; the whites of her eyes, her teeth, her skin I’d never known that skin could be so luminous, so translucent: ivory white with occasional blue veins visible just beneath the surface, like threads of color in white marble. She was a statue; a Geek goddess come to life in my hands.   (p. 48)

It’s a dreamily descriptive passage. And it echoes something Theo has earlier described for us, the self-portrait she labeled Alcestis that Alicia painted in her studio while at home, under house arrest, awaiting trial. Here’s Theo’s description of the painting:

The painting is a self-portrait, depicting Alicia in her studio at home in the days after the murder, standing before an easel and a canvas, holding a paintbrush. She is naked. Her body is rendered in unsparing detail: strands of long red hair falling across bony shoulders, blue veins visible beneath translucent skin. . . . She is captured in the act of painting—yet the canvas is blank, as is her expression.   (p. 9)

The whiteness of this mostly blank canvas mirrors the “so much white everywhere” of his description of making love with Kathy. Kathy’s skin is luminous, while the skin of Alicia’s self-portrain is translucent. Kathy’s skin reveals “occasional blue veins visible just beneath the surface,” while the painting portrays “blue veins visible beneath translucent skin.” 

By means of these descriptive echoes, Michaelides demonstrates that, from very early on in the narrative, Kathy and Alicia are associated in Theo’s mind. The two women are similar in another was as well: Kathy is an actress, and Alicia gives herself the name of a character in an ancient Greek play

The metaphors of drama and acting run throughout the novel. Such thematic and verbal repetitions reinforce and drive the meaning of Theo’s narrative.

As the tension builds and the novel nears its end, Theo’s narrative becomes surrealistically chaotic, with no clear timeline and no smooth transitions from one place to another or from one grouping of characters to another. Chapters tumble one after the other toward the inevitable ending. But like the earlier examples, such stylistic significance is easy to miss if one is skimming rather than reading closely.

For Further Reading

For another example of close textual reading see A CLOSE READING OF THE BEST OPENING PARAGRAPH OF ALL TIME.

© 2019 by Mary Daniels Brown

My Reading Plan for 2019

I’m going to be a bit less formal in my reading plan for 2019 than I was last year.

First, because I read so many books last year, I’m boldly going to increase my annual Goodreads challenge to 50 books for 2019.

Second, I’m going to avoid any other particular reading challenges and instead just encourage myself to read in the following categories:

    • translations
    • science fiction
    • speculative fiction
    • memoir
    • biography
    • general nonfiction
    • plays
    • poetry
    • books by local authors
    • books by people of color or about other cultures

Third, I’m going to make the effort to cross off at least four titles from my original Classics Club list.

What about you?

Do you devise a reading plan at the beginning of a new year, or do you prefer to choose books as you go along?

© 2019 by Mary Daniels Brown

Did I Fulfill My Reading Plan for 2018?

Back in January I put together My Reading Plan for 2018. My follow-through has been mixed: I overly fulfilled some intentions but failed woefully in others.

Reading Challenges

Goodreads Challenge

I crushed my Goodreads challenge to read 45 books by knocking off 63.

Here, according to Goodreads, are my additional statistics for 2018:

  • I read 22,380 pages across 63 books.
  • The longest book I read was A Column of Fire by Ken Follett, at 927 pages.
  • The average length of my books was 355 pages.
  • My average rating was 3.7.
  • The most popular book I read was Ready Player One by Ernest Cline, which was read by a total of 659,539 people.
  • The least popular book I read was Cash McCall (1955) by Cameron Hawley, which was read by a grand total of 51 people (and I’m surprised the number is that high).
  • Of all the books I read, the one with the highest overall rating on Goodreads is The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, with a rating of 4.56—which doesn’t surprise me at all. It was THAT good.

Finally, a number of the books I read every year are unabridged audiobooks. I’m not sure whether their page equivalents are included in Goodread’s algorithm for total pages read or not.

Off the Shelf’s 18 Reading Resolutions for 2018

(1) Read more books by women

Although this intention leads off this challenge, I didn’t much worry about it or even track the titles I read that fulfill it because I always read a lot of books by women—not by conscious intention, but because many women write in the fictional genres that I primarily read, mysteries and psychological thrillers.

(2) Read more diverse books

  • Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng
  • The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

I need to do much better on this one in the future.

(3) Read a book more than 500 pages

I am not afraid of Big Books.

  • A Column of Fire by Ken Follett, 927 pages
  • Gone to Soldiers by Marge Piercy, 703 pages
  • Penmarric by Susan Howatch, 704 pages
  • The Fifth Heart by Dan Simmons, 624 pages
  • Lethal White by Robert Galbraith, 647 pages

(4) Read a book written by someone under the age of 35

  • My Absolute Darling by Gabriel Tallent
  • The Orchardist by Amanda Coplin

(5) Read a book written by someone over the age of 65

  • A Column of Fire by Ken Follett

(6) Read a collection of short stories

None

(7) Read more nonfiction

I find it hard to believe, but I read only one work of nonfiction this year: Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann.

(8) Read a novel based on a real person

  • A Column of Fire by Ken Follett, based on the reign of the first Queen Elizabeth and some of her supporters

(9) Read a collection of poetry

  • Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters

(10) Read a book about an unfamiliar culture

  • Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford
  • A Constellation of Vital Phenomena by Anthony Marra

(11) Read a book from a genre you might not normally read

  • Madam, Will You Talk? by Mary Stewart (romantic suspense)
  • Ready Player One by Ernest Cline (science fiction)
  • The First Fifteen Lives Of Harry August by Claire North (fantasy, or at least some variety of speculative fiction)
  • The Fifth Heart by Dan Simmons (ditto)

(12) Read a book by a local author

  • The Twilight Wife by A.J. Banner
  • Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford
  • The Writer by D.W. Ulsterman
  • The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein

(13) Read a book about mental health

  • Turtles All the Way Down by John Green
  • Trust Your Eyes by Linwood Barclay

(14) Read a “guilty pleasure” book

  • My Brother Michael by Mary Stewart
  • Nine Coaches Waiting by Mary Stewart
  • Penmarric by Susan Howatch

(15) Read a book with an LGBTQ theme

  • Gone to Soldiers by Marge Piercy

(16) Read a book to learn something new

Most people would assume that this category refers exclusively to nonfiction. But I gained a lot of factual knowledge from fiction this year:

  • A Column of Fire by Ken Follett taught me about the Elizabethan era, particularly about the origin of espionage and the political machinations involved in acquiring and maintaining power.
  • The epic Gone to Soldiers by Marge Piercy taught me about World War II, especially the French Resistance.
  • A Constellation of Vital Phenomena by Anthony Marra taught me about the Russian invasion of Chechnya, about which I had known almost nothing.

(17) Read an inspirational memoir

Alas, I didn’t read any new memoirs this year, although reading Dorothy Allison’s autobiographical novel Bastard Out of Carolina felt like reading a memoir.

(18) Read a book you’ve had on your shelf for years but haven’t gotten to yet

  • Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant by Anne Tyler
  • Bastard Out of Carolina by Dorothy Allison

Personal Reading Goals

In an effort to read outside of my usual comfort zone (primarily psychological novels), I planned to read some of these types of books in 2018:

translations

  • My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante, trans. by Ann Goldstein
  • The Story of a New Name by Elena Ferrante, trans. by Ann Goldstein

science fiction

  • Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
  • Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

biography

None

fantasy

  • The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson (at least it’s speculative fiction)
  • The First Fifteen Lives Of Harry August by Claire North (ditto)
  • The Fifth Heart by Dan Simmons (ditto)
  • The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein (talking dogs are fantasy, right?)

plays

None

poetry

  • Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters

The Classics Club

I had planned to tick off six items this year, but I only managed three:

  • I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
  • The Magnificent Ambersons by Booth Tarkington
  • Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters

 

© 2019 by Mary Daniels Brown

Last Week’s Links

Here’s a short entry for this busy holiday week.

In Fiction, It Was the Year of the Woman

An interesting look at the bulk of novels published this year:

They didn’t launch any franchises — no “girl”-titled blockbusters and probably no future Jennifer Lawrence vehicles — but collectively, they dominated a shrunken literary ecosystem. Each week it seemed that a promising new novel emerged that reimagined fiction — for politics’ sake, for literature’s sake, for the sake of expanding whatever the hell fiction might become in an age when Twain’s old maxim about the truth being stranger is tragically truer than ever. Not every one of these novels will become a “relevant classic,” but this year they spread their roots so far and deep that they essentially choked off the usual white, male suspects.

And I particularly like the writer’s conclusion: “ This golden age of women’s fiction is the resistance that we didn’t know was coming to save us.”

The World’s on Fire. Can We Still Talk About Books?

Rebecca Makkai, author of the novel The Great Believers, which was a finalist for the National Book Award, addresses the questions “Is it really okay to talk about art right now? To leave the real and broken world behind and talk about fictional ones?”

I also like her conclusion:

Art is a radical act. Joy is a radical act.

This is how we keep fighting. This is how we survive.

ON JUNK SCIENCE, POP FORENSICS AND CRIME FICTION

Andrew Case writes that, while journalists and lawyers have for years been exposing the unreliability of analyses of spatter patterns, shell casings, shoe prints, and tire marks, “nowhere is discredited science more alive than in crime fiction.” Since I read a lot of crime novels, I was interested in his analysis.

Case notes that in 2009 a panel from the National Academy of Science concluded that “No forensic method has been rigorously shown to have the capacity to consistently, and with a high degree of certainty, demonstrate a connection between evidence and a specific individual or source.” Case argues:

Junk science doesn’t just lead to wrongful convictions—it contributes to the already-enormous racial disparity in wrongful convictions in this country. Skepticism towards pattern evidence is not just for scientists and lawyers, but for anyone interested in reducing racism in our criminal justice system.

In the world of crime fiction, Case argues, a plot based on such methods of analysis

can descend into bad storytelling. Our age is complex. Solutions are rare. And stories that reflect that complexity will seem more true. Crime may be down, but most crimes still don’t get solved—the clearance rate for major index crimes for the NYPD last quarter was only 33%. Stories that reflect this reality are in turn more compelling.

He advocates instead for stories “ filled with surprises and twists grounded in human psychology, not whether a fingerprint or a bullet magically solved a crime.”

Goodreads Choice Awards: An annual reminder that critics and readers don’t often agree

Washington Post book critic Ron Charles discusses the seemingly eternal conflict between high-brow and low-brow taste in literature.

After serving as a judge on several literary contests — from the National Book Critics Circle to the Pulitzer — I’ve come to believe that the best measure of the legitimacy of a book prize is the vibrancy of the discussion it inspires. The terms “best,” “favorite,” “acclaimed” and “popular” are slippery, but they aren’t useless. If awards don’t tell us anything definitive about the books themselves, they certainly indicate something illuminating about the era. Notice, for instance, that 17 of this year’s 21 Goodreads Choice Awards were won by women. (Ian McEwan famously observed, “When women stop reading, the novel will be dead.”)

 

© 2018 by Mary Daniels Brown