I'm the featured blogger this week over at the Book Case, a page of news and thoughts on publishing at BookPage.com. The editors asked me to talk about some aspect of how I came to write The Poacher's Son. It being Memorial Day (or almost) I couldn't help but tell the story of my being nearly killed by a lightning strike twenty-two years ago this weekend in the mountains of western Maine. That night continues to shape my life in surprising ways, as you'll discover if you click over there and read "A Haunting Memorial Day Weekend."
Plum Creek Fined
Moosehead Lake by Lee CourseyAt my readings and book signings, readers have asked me whether The Poacher's Son was inspired, in part, by the plans of Plum Creek Timber to develop thousands of acres of forestland around Moosehead Lake. My answer is that I conceived of the book long before Plum Creek announced its specific project, but that personally speaking, I can't support a proposal that means building private homes on unspoiled Lily Bay (or other remote lakes and ponds). That's especially true when the developer continues to have a spotty environmental record.
Update on 2010-05-27 00:23 by Paul Doiron
It's worth noting that Plum Creek Timber (PCL) is the largest private landowner in the United States.
Short but Sweet
The Charlotte Observer has a brief review of The Poacher's Son that I appreciate:
Paul Doiron's debut novel explores the strange territory between fathers and sons with this tale of a game warden who refuses to believe that his ne'er-do-well father is guilty of a double murder. Doiron also paints an all-too-familiar picture of corporations profiting from destroying a way of life—this time, in the wilds of Maine. It's an engaging story, with a flawed hero whose childhood issues overwhelm his good judgment over and over again.
I've gotten a kick out of how many reviews have described Jack Bowditch (the poacher of my title) as a ne'er-do-well or a no-account. It must be a regional thing. In Maine we don't use those expressions. We just call people sons of bitches. You might also hear sons of whores on occasion.
More Books = Smarter Kids
I don't know anything about the methodology of this study about the role of books in the home, but the finding reached by Mariah Evans, an associate sociology professor at the University of Nevada at Reno, certainly grabs your attention:
This massive [twenty-year] study showed that the difference between being raised in a bookless home compared to being raised in a home with a 500-book library has as great an effect on the level of education a child will attain as having parents who are barely literate (3 years of education) compared to having parents who have a university education (15 or 16 years of education). Both factors, having a 500-book library or having university-educated parents, propel a child 3.2 years further in education, on average.
Even having just a few books in the home seems to improve educational attainment, says Evans. But the larger the library, the greater the impact. Expect to see this study mentioned a lot in the book publishing business.
Once Was Lost...
My wife and I have been fans of the television show "Lost" since its premier in 2004, and like many fans we thought the first season was the best. But over time we found ourselves getting caught up in the arcane story of the Island and were not at all troubled by the castaways implausible adventures back and forth through time. "Lost" was a fun show that did small things extremely well (Sawyer's witticisms, the way Ben cajoled people into beating him up as a manipulation tool, those hilarious black-and-white Dharma Initiative training films) even as its mythology grew simultaneously more grandiose and self-contradicting.
For the past few weeks, as the series neared its long-planned finale, I've been sensing a growing division among "Lost" fans; there were the viewers who would not be satisfied unless the final episodes answered all the series particular mysteries, and then there were the devotees whose interest lay in watching how the producers handled the show's metaphysical Mysteries.
As a writer of crime fiction whose own stories are informed by his journalism, I was surprised to find myself in the latter camp. I found that I had little interest in questions like "What happened to Walt?" and "Why was Libby in that mental hospital with Hurley?" My fascination lay in figuring out what Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse were trying to say about the concept of free will versus destiny and why human beings obsessively make up stories to give our lives meaning no matter the consequences (for example, Sayid is so guilt-stricken he believes anyone who tells him he's beyond salvation). I found that I cared more about the contorted psychology of the characters and the implications of the mythology than about following a trail of specific clues.
So I've been wondering today how my fellow crime aficionados are reacting to the finale. "Lost" was always fantastical, but it made gestures in the direction of explaining itself in science fictional terms. By the time Lindelof and Cuse were done, though, it was clear they never saw themselves as traditional mystery writers; nor was their interest in science fiction anything more than a fanboy's prank. "Lost," instead, was purely a work of fantasy. The show that seemed to be about the struggle between a "man of faith" and a "man of science" in the end rejected science altogether. I suspect that's why so many viewers feel hoodwinked. Despite some pretty heavy-handed foreshadowing, they thought they were watching one kind of show and learned at the eleventh hour that it was something else entirely.
Most authors would be crucified by their readers for changing the narrative rules in mid-story, but somehow "Lost" got away with it. And I have to say, I didn't really mind. But I'm not sure I'd subject my own fans to that kind of bait and switch either.