Deception, by Selena Montgomery

Selena Montgomery is a successful romance novelist with eight romance novels to her credit. Romance is not my go-to genre, but since Selena Montgomery is the pseudonym of Stacey Abrams, I had to buy one.

I wanted to buy several, but since I embarked on this endeavor shortly after the election, when Georgia went for Biden (again, and again, and then one more time). I was not alone in this idea and many of them were backordered. I ordered some from Amazon and some from Copperfield’s Books, my local independent chain bookstore chain. The first one to arrive was called Deception.

I need to provide a disclaimer here. Until I read Deception, I hadn’t read a romance novel in thirty years—maybe forty. I had stumbled across a couple of paranormal romances because I confused them with urban fantasy, but the tropes for paranormal R are slightly different. While shelving Romance at Second Chances Used Books, and I’d noticed that Nora Roberts in particular had written several romantic series, but I assumed this was something unique to her.

It isn’t. To my disappointment, Deception is the second book of a trilogy, and I probably will go hunt down the first one. (To clarify, I’m not disappointed about that part. I’m disappointed that I came into the middle of a story.) The trilogy follows three friends who grew up in in a very unusual foster home in a small town in Georgia. Now matured into three beautiful, intelligent, highly successful women, they find their foster mom—and by extension, themselves—in the crosshairs of a highly successful crime ring that calls itself Stark.

Findley Borders, who goes by Fin, was the rebel of the three who fled town under a cloud when she was a few weeks shy of eighteen. She is now a rich and successful professional gambler. Poker is her game. Fin’s multiracial beauty is an investment, a distraction for amateur players at the table. Fin is the risk-taker, the one of the three who, while dancing on the thin line of legal/illegal, has slipped more than once.

Kell is a successful criminal lawyer, who was obviously the MC of Book One, since she defended the foster mom, Mrs. Faraday, against a bogus murder charge, and she’s landed her man, local sheriff Luke. Julia is an emergency room doctor, cool under pressure.

Deception is Fin’s love story, and her antagonist/lover is Caleb Matthews, an FBI agent undercover as an assistant district attorney in the small town’s DA office. You might question why a small town has an office for the DA, unless it’s the county seat (which it might, in fact, be), and this is never explained, and it doesn’t matter. The secrecy of Caleb’s assignment with even the DA left in the dark doesn’t matter either, and the nature of Eliza Faraday’s group home, foster home, or whatever-it-is doesn’t matter either.

Like thrillers, romance novels don’t depend on authenticity of the real world to work. In this book, Montgomery pays attention to her crime-ring part and keeps the action moving, but she knows her genre and never sacrifices the sizzling arousal or dreamy yearning between Caleb and Fin for something like a stake-out or a record-check or any boring thing that would happen in the real world.

I also read thrillers, and while I found Deception implausible in many ways, it was as plausible as about 95% of the thrillers I’ve read.

Fin and Caleb engage in a lot of what the nuns at my high school would have called “heavy petting,” and Montgomery faces the classic romance writer challenge, with certain words denied to the genre, how do you describe steamy, salacious physical contact and growing sexual tension without getting repetitive? In fact, it did get repetitive, but Montgomery managed to change it up enough that it wasn’t unconscious self-parody.


Halfway through Deception, we learn the identity of the secretive crime boss who runs Stark. I was startled. If think if I’d read the first book, I would be outright shocked. I have no way of knowing how well Montgomery nailed the reveal, but it certainly worked for me. That reveal totally worked for me.

I was glad to see some of my assumptions about romance novels corrected. The idea of a group of women friends, a community, at the heart of the story was new to me, and I like it. The idea that in several cases, Fin is the physical aggressor was good to see; she is no helpless shrinking maiden; she owns her sexuality. By extension, Caleb is not a stalker. Three friends who are spiritual sisters creates the space for the inevitable quizzing and teasing about how late Fin was out with Caleb and so on that creates comic relief and just general relief from all the tension both sexual and criminal.

The story, given a focus on a sexual relationship, was engaging and I liked the three women and Mrs. F, their foster mother, very much. Montgomery’s point of view shifts were a distraction for me, and the word choices sometimes made me roll my eyes. I can’t judge if those are idiosyncratic to the writer or part of the genre.

Romance is still not my go-to, but I enjoyed Deception and I learned a lot. Abrams, as Abrams, is publishing a political thriller tentatively scheduled for May, 2021. I will watch for it. And, I’ll track down book one in my spare time.


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The Books we Got for Christmas, 2020

Bottom Left to Right: American Sphinx, the Sanctuary Seeker, Blue Lightning, The Left-Handed Booksellers of London, Be Like the Fox, Lawless and the Devil of Eustace Square, The Solace of Open Spaces, The Kingdom of Liars

Books are our usual gifts to each other, and this year was no different. From nonfiction to fantasy, here’s how our gifts ran:

Spouse Got:

American Sphinx, less a biography (or hagiography) of Thomas Jefferson, and more analysis, according to the back cover.

Sanctuary Seeker is a historical mystery set in 12the century Britain.

Blue Lightning is Ann Cleeve’s 4th book in the Shetland series.

Be Like the Fox is a biography of Niccolo Machiavelli.

The Kingdom of Liars is a pretty new fantasy, garnering some positive reviews.

I got:

The Left-Handed Booksellers of London, a new fantasy release.

Lawless and the Devil of Eustace Station. This historical mystery, like Sanctuary Seeker, was a stocking stuffer gift.

The Solace of Open Spaces. I bought this on Brandy’s recommendation, mostly for the writer’s gorgeous prose, as she writes about Wyoming.

Serving notice on Spouse: I fully intent to borrow the Machiavelli book and I may even “borrow” it before he reads it!







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Book Three. First Draft. Done

It’s not only waaaay too long, it’s waaaay too long and rambly! Characters behave inconsistently and while I’ve got all the elements in there and most of the beats are right, the climax seems rushed.

And I don’t care. None of that matters because this is the first draft. The structure of the story is on the page. I can work with this.

It gets to rest–or I do, one or the other–until January 6, 2021, which, in case you were wondering, is a completely arbitrary date, just like my personal deadline for completing a first draft was totally arbitrary. Because deadlines work for me, that’s mainly the reason.

Then I read the whole thing through, start to finish. And then I begin revising.

While I am doing that, I will also start revising the Secret Project I Can’t Talk About. This balancing act will be tricky, because while the Secret Project needs less revision, the revisions are what I would call deeper, requiring more thought. I’m thinking I may have to divide up my day, mornings and afternoons, by project.

By the way, not a single word of this is a complaint!




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The Parklets Update

Days after the parklets were deployed, the San Francisco Bay Area counties went back to the original Stay at Home orders. Sonoma County gave it a few more days before following suit.

Still, people are out and about, mostly masked and mostly considerate about social distancing. The parklet in front of People’s Music and East-West Cafe has developed some personality. People’s Music put an instrument in it, and a cart of old music books that are offered at half-price.

Local painters did a nicer job that the graffitist. Both sides of the K barrier have a blue background with galaxies and stars.

The larger one on Depot Street, right in front of Screamin’ Mimi’s ice cream, is still getting the most use.

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Parklets! We Got ’em

Eager to help the food service businesses in downtown Sebastopol, and possibly save the holiday retail season, the town council deployed its “parklets” last week. I confused “parklets” with “pocket parks,” which I think are cool. Parklets are much smaller–often, in fact, the size of two parking spaces, which is what they used to be.

The town based its parklets on San Francisco and Santa Rosa. Here’s a picture of an ideal “parklet” in Santa Rosa, in Railroad Square, a low-traffic stretch of 4th Street west of the freeway.

That space is more that two spaces, and extends pretty far into the street.

Sebastopol plans for four; one in the final segment of Depot Street before it merges with Bodega Avenue, right in front of Screaming Mimi’s Ice Cream. Because this whole scrap of road can be closed off, it’s roughly the size of the space above. This could be a successful parklet except it’s right on the first of two state highways, and the east-west route through town, which means traffic is nonstop and it’s noisy.

Depot Street Parklet, complete with a couple of trees.

The other two have been deployed on the southbound street through town, Main Street, also known as Highway 116. One is close to the East-West Cafe and the new Italian place.

width of a parking space… or the bike lane.

The second one, which will probably get the most use, is on South Main, in front of Retrograde Coffee and the Good Morning Café. The café already has some tables on the sidewalk, and does decent business at breakfast, at least for these times.

Our local graffiti activist has already expressed their opinion

Balletto Winery donated barrels to be used as tabletops (I suspect they donated some money as well.) Other than that, the expense has been the labor, and the cost of the barriers which the city probably already had.

Rolling out the barrels.

I have seen one being used, last Monday, at Retrograde; four young people were leaning on a barrel, sipping their beverages.

The city hopes that these will encourage people to come downtown, stand (or in some cases sit) in a parklet to eat a carryout restaurant meal and then linger to browse the shops. A rising tide lifts all boats, in other words. I’m not making that expression up–when I emailed the city council with some questions, Patrick Slayter’s reply to me used those words.

Adirondack Chairs grace the Depot Parklet

The big problem with doing anything on either of downtown’s main streets is that each of them is a state highway and the state Department of Transportation has to approve nearly anything done. If you were wondering why these look so temporary, I think that’s the reason. When I emailed them in early November, I asked about approvals, and Slayter acknowledged that as a problem. I am pretty sure they went ahead and put these up pending approval. If their request gets denied, in four or five weeks (with the bulk of the shopping season in the rearview), then the city can appeal. Right? I mean, that’s how I’d do it.

I applaud the city for anything it can do to get our local merchants through this pandemic. Personally, I’m not convinced parklets are the winning ingredient, but let’s hope I’m wrong and hundreds of shoppers (masked and observing social distance) throng our main street, swiping their credit cards like banners, pausing only for a nosh and a hot beverage in a parklet. On a busy street. In December, when it’s cold. It could happen, right?

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Cover Reveal!

Falstaff Books sent me a picture of the cover to Copper Road, and I am thrilled with it!

The type face and the open book at the bottom carries through from Aluminum Leaves, (you’ll see the similarities to that cover) and the human figure looks like someone trying to come through a frontera– maybe the very one Trevian is desperately trying to close.

Preorders should be available in December, and the book itself will be available on Amazon, directly from Falstaff, and at Second Chances Used Books, in mid-January, 2021.

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Flanders Sky: Could Not Finish

Fifty pages from the end of Flanders Sky, by Nicolas Freeling, I closed it and put it down. I will never know who murdered Iris. I will never know if her sexual-harasser, rape-fantasist husband will face just desserts, if not for the murder, for his other behavior. I only know that I cannot float in this venomous stew of misogyny any longer. It’s rare for me to set aside a murder mystery, but I will not subject myself to any more of this.

Nicolas Freeling was the author of the Van der Valk detective series, set mostly in Amsterdam, and the Henri Castang mysteries, set in various European countries. (Flanders Sky, published as The Pretty How Town in the UK, is a Castang mystery.) Freeling, who died in 2003, published over 30 novels, and started his career in the early 1960s. This book was published in 1992.

Freeling was British but spent many of his young adult years in Europe, working in restaurant kitchens. In terms of style and the issues he takes on, I’d guess Freeling falls into the Frederick Forsyth group. I’d guess he was influenced by Ian Fleming, and while Flanders Sky mentions many of the political issues that John le Carre’s thrillers delve into, Freeling lacks the philosophy, knowledge or curiosity of le Carre. 

Henri Castang is, or was, a police detective in Paris. In the book before this one, he uncovered something politically inconvenient, so he’s been “promoted” and banished to Brussels, where he’s assigned to a multinational political group. Although it’s never named, it seems like this group might serve the people creating the European Union. (Or they might be those people. Can’t tell.) The backdrop is the collapse of the Soviet Union, The Velvet Revolution, and other European changes. Henri’s interest is slightly more than academic; his wife Vera is a Slovakian—a former gymnast who defected in Paris, and now, for the first time, can visit her homeland.

(Just a prelude to coming issues: Castang continually refers to his Slovakian wife as a Czech.)

Henri’s new boss, Harold Claverhouse, is apparently some sort of genius. He’s British. He sexually harasses every woman in the office. He provokes his male workers by making racist remarks and watching their responses. He vocally, as a matter of course, imagines raping women who work in the office, or who he sees on the street. He almost immediately tells Henri that he’s got the hots for Vera. Henri is forced to set some boundaries. After he does that, Harold comes to the house uninvited, and pays a lot of (courteous) attention to Vera, which Henri interprets as an indirect apology to him. (Vera says, “I thought he was making a pass at me.” You decide.)

Harold is married to an attractive Anglo-Irish woman named Iris. Suddenly, Iris is strangled to death, alone in the house, wearing only a housecoat. The back door is unlocked but not open, and Harald, coming home from work late after a few drinks, finds the body. Harold is taken into custody and held but not charged. This is a tragedy. Not about Iris—no one really seems to care much about her–but for the office, because it’s a big political embarrassment.

Victims in mysteries, especially thrillers by men, are often female, and being dead they have no voice. The minimizing of Iris, alone, could be bearable. As Flanders Sky progresses, though, and two more plotlines emerge, recurring themes about women emerge too, and Freeling uses the voices of his few women characters, particularly Vera, to support and amplify a view of women that dovetails perfectly with the opinions the male characters have. And those opinions are repulsive.

Yes, the book was written in the 1990s, and yes, I am reading it from a 21st century perspective. There were plenty of male writers in the 90s who weren’t doing espousing these attitudes. And I find it interesting that I can read writers like Dickens and say, “This is historical,” but the level of objectifying women is so high in this 90s, low-end-of-middle-brow thriller that I can’t make that jump.

But let me go on.

Three misogynistic themes develop:

1) Creating a defense for Harold, Henri, two male and one female lawyer hypothesize that maybe Harold staggered home drunk and wanted to have sex, and Iris refused him. In fact, she probably even said “No” in a harsh manner. Or maybe she was even verbally mean to him! In a moment of drunken rage, he throttled her to keep her quiet. Anyone could understand that, right? Plainly, this is meant to be somewhat cynical, but still, at the end of this passage, all four people in the room agree that “He had to shut her up,” is an acceptable defense. And they accept it.

2) A subplot involves a non-profit teen center Henri volunteers at. Two girls, about the ages of his own daughters, come in, saying they’ve run away from their home in a village outside Ghent because their father beats them. So very much goes wrong here, plotwise, that I won’t even address all of it, but Henri sends them home. Once home, the younger girl (who isn’t even named in the story) kills her father with a kitchen knife, since he routinely rapes the older sister and the little sister wants it to stop.

Now, Henri conjures up the story of the mother in this family, who has never before this been mentioned. She works long hours at a local hospital, which Henri thinks might be hard work. A couple of times a week, she has drinks with her mates before she comes home from work. From this, Henri concludes that she is responsible for the neglect, the incest and the murder. In particular, Henri uses this phrase in discussing the mother, “She wouldn’t have wanted to find her own daughter promoted to wife-status.”

Promoted to wife-status. The problem isn’t that the father assaulted his daughter, stole her autonomy, her innocence and her childhood. No, it’s that the power differential in the household might change.

Later, Freeling doubles down on the idea that kids getting raped (by their parents) isn’t a big deal when he has Vera, in her narrative, say, “Do I seem hard? Young girls do get sexually abused. That is appalling, but it is also an historical constant.”

This entire subplot seems to exist mainly to introduce a young woman Henri calls Merieke, who had an affair with Harold.

3) Henri routinely sends Vera to visit Harold in jail. Harold, still not actually charged, has a lot of privilege, and visits take place in a private room, with no guard present. Vera brings him clean clothes, books and some music CDs. When, helping her husband, she presses Harold about his affair, he responds by asking her to take off her clothes, and telling her he needs to make love to her. Vera refuses, but she does not leave. She does not leave. Harold does not attack her, taking refuge in words. He comes up close to her as she is getting ready to leave, but Vera assures the reader that she isn’t afraid; she knows Harold won’t hurt her.

It’s this type of propaganda that I had the most trouble with. This is a male writer, one who uses rape repeatedly as a simile or recurring image in his book, making a female character assure us that she knows the man who just tried to coerce her into stripping for his pleasure won’t hurt her. This is a lie. Every single woman knows that, in the situation with that kind of a man, she is at high risk for getting hurt. It’s one thing for Vera to be tough and believe she can handle herself; it’s another thing entirely to use the character of Vera as apologist for rape-fan Harold.

(Earlier in the book, Vera tells us that every wife has had a moment when she thought her husband might rape her. It’s just married life, she implies.)

She not only doesn’t leave, later she comes back. Vera is acting as an investigator, a proxy for her husband… an unpaid investigator, the one assuming all the risk. As a tactic to get Harold to open up about the affair, she says this:

“I’m sorry to have behaved so badly, last time. I apologize.”

For what? For not taking off her clothes? For exercising free will?

This was the point where repugnance overwhelmed curiosity and interest. I’ve left out Henri’s cat-and-mouse game with a female spy who approaches him. He gets the drop on her with his pistol, and tells her to take off her clothes, presumably so he can see that she isn’t carrying hidden weapons. She refuses, but his order “cleared the air,” he tells us. Hahaha! See, we’re just role-playing Ian Fleming here! No harm, no foul, right?

Normally, I would just get rid of the book and determine not to read anything else by this guy, but I got to thinking. Freeling was a popular writer, and the Castang stories at least are spy-thriller light, a genre read as frequently by women as men. Not only was Freeling reassuring men that their entitlement to any woman they wanted, when they wanted her, was normal and fine… he was telling women the same thing, and using women characters to do it. This was insidious.

I think I’m a better reader now than I was in 1992. I hope so. I hope as a society we have grown beyond these kinds of shenanigans. But this kind of brainwashing are, and were, part and parcel of what some people call rape culture. I will actively warn people off this book and this writer. (NOTE: the PBS adaptation of Van Der Valk is updated and does not ooze misogyny and male entitlement.) By warning them off, I will never learn who truly killed Iris, and I can live with that.

 


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The Way We Live Now #10: Kids These Days

During the pandemic, we’ve all paid a lot of attention to the big-to-huge social events that have been disrupted; sporting events, weddings, live performances, festivals, graduations, and now probably Thanksgiving. In May, the media devoted attention to the graduating class of 2020, who would not walk down an aisle or get to have parties. Birthday parties, wedding showers, baby showers, and so on have moved, mostly, online, or aren’t happening at all.

I wonder what the current generation of tweens and teens will think of social get-togethers once we have distributed an effective vaccine and moved into the next phase of our lives with the coronavirus. I’m thinking now, not of the big events, but the types of face-to-face get-togethers that my high school friendships thrived on, which are largely gone right now.

I’m thinking of things as simple as walking home from school with your buds; that precious chance to debrief, have your besties assure you that you were right and mean old Mr. Swanson just needs to chill. I’m wondering about the gaggle of teens, boys and girls, I used to see sitting on the retaining wall by Safeway after Analy got out. Sure, several of them were smokers, but that was a social gathering, and they were there nearly every day.

This year (and maybe, worst case scenario, next year) you don’t go to your friend’s house to play video or tabletop games, to jam some music. Book clubs, reading groups and writing critique groups have gone online. And the time-honored hanging-out-a-coffee-house is not indicated either.

Will these kids grow up investing in-person events with an aura of the strange, even the illicit? Will hanging out for coffee carry a whiff of the forbidden? Or, will kids just adjust, and be saying, “Why would I ride my bike all the way to Darla’s house when I can Facetime with her?”

Young people turned up in person in record numbers to protest racial injustice, and celebrate the election results. They were masked and they were out there, dancing, carrying signs, filming themselves. They still get the power of the in-person event.

Humans are mammals, and social (clannish) mammals. What I’m saying is, there is still a lot of important information we gather from in-person interactions. Anyone who’s been doing a lot of videoconferencing or emailing knows this. We’re also adaptable. Will today’s youth grow up with in-person interactions as a nice-to-have, but able to somehow parse minute data from online interactions in a way I can’t? It seems possible.

I will stay tuned.







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Arrow: the Mayoral Campaigns

I started binge-watching Arrow a few weeks back, thinking it would be escapist relief from election season. Surely benighted, beleaguered Starling City (later Star City) would make my world look better in comparison? Sadly, it did not. In spite of all its masked villains, whole sections of the city getting blown up or imploded, and guys running around shooting everyone with arrows, Starling City, in general, seemedbetter  off than the current USA, at least generally.

But, as we crept into the home stretch of this election season (I hope), something stood out in the first four seasons of Arrow; mayoral campaigns. After writing a 2,000 word post in which I tried to come to grips with my feelings about this show, I realized that simply imagining the details of two campaigns in this comic-book city would probably clarify things nicely.

First, a recap: Arrow was inspired by a DC masked hero called Green Arrow. Here’s the story from the show, which premiered in 2012. (I never read the comics.)

Spoiled billionaire fratboy Oliver Queen and his father Robert were presumed dead when Robert’s luxury yacht sank in the North China Sea. In fact, they both made it into a life-raft, but Robert Queen killed himself so Oliver could live. Oliver washed up on the shores of a scary island, where he spent the next five years getting really buff, fighting, being tortured, learning to speak Russian and Chinese, shooting arrows, wielding magic, trusting the wrong people and killing people. And sinking boats. Did I mention it was a deserted island? Anyway, after five years, Oliver arranged for his “rescue” and returned home to Starling City.

He found his home city in the throes of a near fatal recession. (Before they left, Dad closed his steel foundry, laying off 30,000 people. I’m sure that had nothing to do with it.) Except for being forced to live in a monstrosity of a mansion, the Queen family was doing fine financially. Moira Queen, Oliver’s mother, was now the CEO of Queen Consolidated, and had married the CFO, Walter. As Season One unfolded, we learned that Moira and Robert were part of a one-percenter scheme to blow up a huge district of the city, called the Glades. Malcolm Merlyn, close family friend and another billionaire, was the architect of the scheme. He said it was revenge for the mugging death of his doctor wife in the Glades, but really it was just to devalue some real estate and pick it up for cheap. Robert was getting ready to expose the scheme, so Malcolm sabotaged the yacht.

Oliver, struggling to make a difference in his city, started dressing up in a costume and shooting bad guys with arrows. He was good at it, but it wasn’t effective at revitalizing the city.

Moira was still closely aligned with Merlyn because, she insisted, he threatened the lives of her children if she broke her silence. (Later he kidnapped Walter to ensure her compliance.) At the last minute, Moira called a press conference and warned the people of the Glades—and admitted her involvement. Thanks to Oliver/the Arrow, and Moira’s warning, only (only) 500+ people were killed, and only half the destroy-the-Glades plan worked. Oliver “killed” Malcolm Merlyn in an arrow/sword fight.

Moira was tried—as a co-conspirator, I guess—and acquitted due the manipulations of the not-so-dead Merlyn.  And then, half a season later, she ran for mayor.

Moira Queen, the Campaign.

Slogan: Vote for Moira! She’s the One Who Didn’t Blow Us Up!
Policy Platform: Tax breaks for Billionaires! We Create the Jobs!
Platform Expansion: Economic Stimulus is for Losers.
Talking Points: “I’d do anything to save my children.”


Queen press event:

Moira Queen:  And in closing, I’d like to just say again, I’m simply a mother. A mother who will do anything to save her children. And now, I’ll take a few questions. Yes, Amelia.

Amelia (WZZG): Mrs. Queen, the now-dead Malcolm Merlyn was a sociopathic murderer who tried to destroy twenty-seven blocks of this city. You stated under oath during your trial that you had an affair with him. What should voters make of your judgment? And there are even those who say your daughter Thea–

Queen: I did have an… ill-considered and brief liaison with the definitely, indisputably dead Malcolm Merlyn. It was bad judgment. Amelia, we make mistakes, but some things should stay in the past. Should those mistakes haunt us? I mean, imagine if you knew someone who celebrated completing her Masters in Journalism by taking a trip to Costa Rica—

Amelia: (Blanches.)

Queen:… and while there, participated in some events that were… well, don’t you think…?

Amelia: Yes! Yes, of course, some things belong in the past. Thank you, Mrs. Queen.

Jacob (Starling City Inquirer): Mrs. Queen, you’ve said on several occasions that you will do anything for your children.

Queen: I have, because I will do anything for my children.

Jacob: So can we assume that if another supervillain comes to town, you’d betray the city to keep your children safe?

Queen: Of course I would, Jacob. I’m a mother. But you must understand that I consider Starling City one of my children. I’d never sacrifice two of my children to save one, even if Oliver is my favorite.

Jacob: Sounds legit.

Queen: That’s all for today. Thank you all. Don’t forget to vote!

Sadly, Moira did not live to win the election.

Several seasons and several mayors later, Oliver Queen mounted a campaign. He was running unopposed.

Oliver Queen, the Campaign

Slogan: Vote for Oliver! No One Else is Running.
Policy Platform: I have to have policies?
Platform Expansion: I’ll hire all my friends. Oh, wait, I don’t have any.
Talking Point: This is all my fault.

Oliver did not win the mayor’s seat, but some time later, he was appointed mayor.

Oliver Queen Mayoral Press Conference

Amelia(WZZG): Mr. Mayor, for the third time in as many years, the city’s bonds have been downgraded. What do you intend to do about this?

Queen: Well, frankly, Amelia, zip ties just won’t do it. I’m looking at a steel-titanium alloy that—

Quentin Lance: (Hurries to the podium, shields the mike, whispers urgently into Queen’s ear.)

Queen: Oh. Oh, those bonds! That’s an excellent question. I’ll get back to you on that.

Jacob (Star City Inquirer): Mr. Mayor, the police pension fund is on track to become fifty percent of the city budget, far outstripping the revenues. What do you see as a solution?

Queen: I think that problem will take care of itself.

Jacob: Huh?

Queen: Well, have you noticed the mortality rate of SCPD officers? It’s like, minutes. They’re dead before their first coffee break sometimes. I don’t think demand’s going to overwhelm supply, that’s what I’m saying.

Jacob: I can’t even…

Bella (Central City Tattler): Bella Rave, Mr. Mayor. Five years ago, the city council earmarked five million dollars for repairs and upgrades to the city water system. Those repairs were never made, and projected costs have now ballooned to fifteen million. What is your plan for rehabbing the city’s water supply?

Queen: I think you’re really focusing on the negative. I mean, nobody’s tried to poison the water supply lately. No weird guys in helmets have dumped drums full of Vertigo or Stardust or some other Star-City customized drug in there, right?

Bella: Your point, Mr. Mayor?

Queen (seems confused): I take my wins where I can get them.

Jacob: How would you respond to your critics who say you are completely unqualified?

Queen: I’d say, “Hellloooo! I said I wasn’t qualified. Did you even listen to my campaign?”

Tailor (Star City Ledger): What is your plan for bringing business back to Star City?

Queen: Well, I was going to buy back my company with the money my girlfriend made as CEO of Palmer Industries, but they fired her, so that’s out.

Tailor: Clarification, Mr. Mayor. Is that the girlfriend you proposed to at the Christmas Tree Lighting ceremony who was promptly shot by unknown villains–

Queen: Known villains.

Tailor: –and was paralyzed but then had an implant that lets her walk but then she dumped you?

Queen: Yes. So that plan won’t work. My second plan to go back to the island and dig around for another magical artifact that will bring weal–

Thea Queen, Chief of Staff (audible): Ix-nay on the agic-may.

Tailor: Magic?

Amelia: Mr. Mayor, the three mayors before you have been murdered during their tenures–

Queen: Four.

Amelia: –and, what? Four? Ruvee Adams is considered missing, I thought. Not dead.

Queen: Oh, yeah. Right. Three. Sorry, I miscounted.

Amelia: She hasn’t been declared dead, has she? Do you know something we don’t?

Queen: Well, probably. I probably know lots of things you don’t. But about Ruvee Darhk, I mean, Adams, uh, no, I just misspoke. What was your question?

Amelia: Starling City, even with the upbeat name change to Star City, seems cursed. In six months, you face an election. What would you say to someone thinking about running for mayor?

Queen (Straightens up and leans forward slightly. A light comes into his eyes.): I’d say this. Unless you are me, if you want to run for mayor of Star City, you are either a supervillain or the minion of a supervillain. And if you are, then there is no place you can run. No place you can–

Thea Queen: Okay! Good talk! (Hustles up to the podium, grabs his arm.)

Queen: There is a face of justice in this city. It wears a mask. And I say to you now, wherever you are–

Quentin Lance grabs Queen’s other arm, they drag him off the podium.

Thea Queen: Okay! Thank you all. Thank you, Mr. Mayor. And now we have a guest from Central City, Barry Allen, presenting a talk on forensics interventions. “Forensics at the speed of stars!” Barry Allen, everyone.







































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The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry

I was late getting around to reading The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry. This historical novel came out in paper in 2017, and I just read it a few months ago, during the Stay at Home segment of the pandemic. It was a good book to read during a sequestration, transporting me to a different time and place; Britain in the 1890s.

Perry’s very popular book primarily follows three characters; troubled widow Cora Seaborne, vicar William Ransome and innovative surgeon Luke Garrett. The story of these three and “strange news out of Essex,” of the return of a monster some call the Essex Serpent, also introduces us to fascinating secondary characters; Cora’s young son, William’s wife, and Cora’s social activist companion Martha.

Widowed and now in possession of a comfortable fortune, Cora moves to Essex because of her interest in natural history and fossils. She is a questioner. So is William, but his questions are firmly rooted in a conventional belief in God. They meet socially and Cora becomes friends with William’s charming wife. William and Cora debate and outright bicker over their beliefs, drawing closer, even if that closeness at first is within a life of the mind.

Luke Garrett has loved Cora since before she was widowed. His innovations and confidence in the surgery—and his abrasive personality—are polarizing, yet he is piloting surgical techniques that have amazing results.

Against the backdrop of the “backwater” of the small town where Cora ends up, stories of the serpent, and strange goings-on along the waterline, continue to creep up. The sense of pervasive strangeness Perry creates is palpable. The resolution of the serpent sightings was the least successful thing in the book for me, but I almost didn’t care because of the pages of foreboding and moodiness she provided beforehand.

Two things made the book an outstanding read for me: Perry doesn’t reach for a “standard” resolution to a romantic triangle (two triangles actually) and gives us a woman character who values her autonomy right to the end. Secondly, Cora and Martha are not 21st-century inserts, mouthing values and political positions from our century. They are believable late-19th century women, pushing up against the boundaries of belief and social mores. Martha, from a family of union organizers, comes out of a hallowed British tradition of unionizing, activist women. Cora’s interest in the natural world and the historical riddles left by fossils is in keeping with women of the time and class. The book makes it clear that these women are not prodigies or Queen Bees, the Only Intellectual Woman, etc—they are well established in society.

I wondered how things would go with Francis, Cora’s son, who is clearly on the autism spectrum, and the book treated him well and realistically.

Perry chose a quasi-Victorian style of narration, which fits perfectly.

All in all, a perfect book for long quiet nights, or an evening after a long walk along a beach, or a hike, or looking for fossils.





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