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Nero Wolfe Mystery. By Marv???

 I have more fiction to offer in addition to the beginning of my Chicago detective novel. A while back, I wrote a short story that uses Rex Stout’s cast of characters and style from a  Nero Wolfe mystery, although I could not help letting my personality slip in. And I admit, to impertinence in stealing from Grand Master Stout.  If I did my job well, the readers will enjoy the story, although I would be gobsmacked if anyone mistook it for the real thing. Read it here.

Readers with a sharp ear will hear more than a little Rex Stout Nero Wolfe mystery in my Fenton Herzman and Reggie Haskell.

The Nero Wolfe Mystery

A little background for those who are interested. Rex Stout started writing the Nero Wolfe mysteries in the 1930s and he continued until he died in 1975. He created a repertoire of characters that appear in most of the novels: Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin, of course, but also NPYD Homicide Division Inspector Fergus Cramer, chef Fritz Brenner, freelance operative Saul Panzer, tomboy femme fatale and ballroom dancer Lily Rowan, and more. Part of Stout’s charm is the comfortable familiarity of the setting and characters.

An old brownstone in midtown Manhattan is a much a part of the stories as any of the characters. The building has a penthouse greenhouse where Wolfe retreats morning and afternoon on a schedule that is not to be changed or interrupted. The globe in Wolfe’s office is the largest anyone has ever seen. Wolfe knows the precise location of every volume on his floor to ceiling book shelves and a peephole is hidden behind a trick painting.

I like to think of Stout’s characters as deep caricatures—more realistic than burlesques, but magnified beyond life; often comic, but facing profoundly serious issues. The putative main character, Nero Wolfe, is a genius detective who prefers eating and raising orchids to detecting. Archie Goodwin’s real job is to goad Wolfe into action. Archie is the true center of the stories, a wise-cracking innocent whom some critics compare to Huckleberry Finn. He does Wolfe’s leg work, and more.

A&E produced a Nero Wolfe television series in 2001 and 2002 starring Timothy Hutton and Maury Chaykin. There have been several radio, movie, and television productions based on Nero Wolfe, but I like the A&E series best. It’s as faithful as television ever is to an original and the sets are lavish chiaroscura that remind me of a Merchant Ivory film. I recommend seeing it if you have a chance. I have a DVD set of the entire series.

There was a Canadian CBC radio series that is good listening, but it is hard to find. The voice characterizations are superb, and, if you have the right kind of imagination, the sets are more vivid than A & E. Try here.

Like almost every Nero Wolfe mystery, my story begins with a potential client at the door. It’s close to lunch time. Archie tries to send him away, but the client is insistent and, in some way, disturbing. Archie relents and parks him into the front room to wait, locking the door so he can’t wander. Wolfe, of course, won’t see him. While Wolfe is on the phone, Archie checks on the client and finds him dead. Wolfe is annoyed but, uncharacteristically, he allows Archie to call 911 after a ten minute head-start on lunch instead of insisting on delaying until the meal is over. Archie gets a hunch that Wolfe has something up his sleeve. He’s right.

I wrote my Nero Wolfe mystery over five years ago for a few self-indulgent laughs. I reread it the other day. I had forgotten the story entirely. I was surprised that I enjoyed reading it, so maybe a few folks will enjoy it too. Wolfe’s lunch is heavy but the story is light.

I called it  Lunchus Interuptus.

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Electronic Deep Reading

fawnI read an interview with Will Self this morning in the Guardian. Is the fate of our literary culture sealed? He regrets the passing of “deep reading,” reading in which the reader is fully immersed in the text. The opposite of deep reading is shallow reading, the kind of reading I do when surfing the web, an idle activity. I catch the gist of a piece and flick to the next item, trying to pick out what is interesting to me and move on. This style of reading is the kind I do in the stacks in a library or wandering in a bookstore. Read just enough to decide if I want to check out or buy the book. Then I take it home and read it. If it is good, I read it as deeply as it deserves or resonates with my interests. Reading is a continuum that runs from shallow to deep. I imagine it is the same for most readers.

Do I read electronic texts deeply? Of course. While surfing, when a report or essay strikes me as important to me, I often become immersed and read it as deeply as I read paper books. When I read a book that arrests me on my Kindle, I am lost to world. (Ask my wife.)

I experience many differences between the electronic reading experience and reading a paper book, but they are most similar, I should say identical, when I am most absorbed. Mr. Self writes about forgetting all “the workaday contingencies of their identity” while reading deeply. Among those contingencies is the media itself: desktop display, phone, dedicated reader, paperback, custom leather binding, they all are forgotten when deeply reading paper or an electronic display. Or at least I forget them, and I don’t think I am unique.

Publishing is certainly changing, but I very much doubt that reading itself is changing. Electronic reading is superficially different from paper reading and those superficial differences are challenging because they force readers to change habits they have developed since they were children: the way to hold a book and the how it feels in their hands, turning the pages, using a finger for a temporary bookmark, judging where they are by the thickness of pages already read. These are all parts of the reading experience that are not reproduced in electronic reading, but they have nothing to do with deep reading.

Until readers get beyond these and many other habits, they may have difficulty achieving deep reading electronically. As a software engineer, I have transitioned into electronic reading over at least two decades, so I am not a useful example, but I notice among my friends, the acclimation period is measured in weeks and months, not decades. Also, I observe that better readers, usually the ones who claim to be most attached to paper books, are the quickest studies at electronic reading after they start.

It’s fun to declare that the world is going to hell on a flat screen display and eInk, but I doubt that deep reading is on its way out.