The Writer and the Reader

 

Does fiction owe us any fact?  Several years ago I was happily binge-reading the series of books by Walter Mosley featuring  the Los Angeles detective Easy Rawlins.  I just loved Easy.  He was a smart black man determined to bring decency and dignity into his life behind the eight ball.

I was devastated when Mosley killed off Easy.  For no good reason.  Not even a part of any plot.  I vowed no more Mosley for me.

A few months ago I was shocked to see a new Easy Rawlins book featured on Amazon. What?  Easy is alive again?  Just like that?  I was happy to read about Easy in a new adventure, but does an author have a right to kill off a character in one book and then have him appear in another?  

What about the reader and our emotional investment?  Just asking.

Decisions

 

My reading and my TV watching have converged on one subject: those brave public servants who have the courage to make difficult decisions and live with the consequences.  I'm reading Michael Lewis' book on the pandemic: Premonitions.  I've been a big fan of Michael Lewis starting with Moneyball.  I'm not finished with the book but so far I am fascinated with his coverage of one Public Health Administrator in California.  She is unsupported and underfunded, yet called upon to made unpopular decisions as drastic as forced evacuations.

The series Philly D.A. on PBS is riveting.  Larry Krasner, a former Public Defender, took over the District Attorney's Office.  He has been determined to change the culture of prosecutions.  What an enormous undertaking.  The series shows how it is met every step of the way with a chorus of naysayers.  The latest episode is about juveniles sentenced to life without parole.  A few years ago the Supreme Court ruled that the practice was unconstitutional based on scientific knowledge of the juvenile mind.  The current Court reversed that decision just a few weeks ago.

Larry Krasner is up for re-election.  We'll see.

Clean Windows

 

John Bachtell, my second favorite Communist (yes, Shelby, you're still No. 1), posted some pix of those brave heroes washing his windows.  It's Spring!  So, the men (so far it's only been men) will also be arriving soon outside my apartment on the 26th floor.

I am in awe of them swaying on their tiny slings.  They will even wave back with their free hand.  It reminds me of the famous photo of the men eating their lunch as they are perched on that slender beam above NY city miles below.

After 9/11 there was a wonderful story on NPR about the tribe of Indians from Canada who sent their members to build the twin towers.  I wonder if my window washers belong to a tribe or a family with an unusual set of genes.  Like the flying Walendas.

No matter.  That's not necessary.  They are wonderful.  I, and everyone who visits me, loves my glorious view. Made even more sparkling because of their amazing visits.