Charlaine Harris Tells Her Side of the Story

charlaineMy name is Charlaine Harris, and I’m stuck in a room in a bookstore. It all started a few weeks ago, when my human dad came over crying, picked me up, said he’d always love me, and then drove me in his arms to this place. And left me here.

The people in the bookstore took me into a back room, showed me some food and water, a litter box, and a little basket of toys. (I selected a catnip mouse.) And then they went off and left me in there! I found a chair in the sun and took a long nap. It was kind of a hard day.

The next day, my sister from Dad’s place came. She wasn’t feeling well so they set her up in a little tent by herself. We could see and talk to each other, but she had her food and litterbox, and I had mine. And she pretty much slept for four days. (She’s feeling better now, thanks, but they say she’s got some special needs so she might not get adopted with me, unless a family is willing to have us both.)

That’s what the couple here say will happen next, that I’m gonna get adopted. They said just the right person is gonna come along, and I’m gonna go live with him or her. I said, what happened to Dad? And they looked kinda sad and said he had to move into a different place to live because of some difficult circumstances. What’s that mean, difficult circumstances? Like the time I got stuck behind the toilet and they had to take the lid off to get me out? Yeah, that was kinda hard. My foot hurt for days….

Anyway, I have to stay in this room now because the couple who took me in opened the door once, and GEEZ O PETE there were like FOUR cats out there. And they all came to the door and looked at me, and well, you hafta remember I used to live just with one guy and a sister cat, so they seemed kinda intimidating to me. One of them stepped forward, so I did what I thought was best. Attacked her.

Well geez you’d a thought I’d thrown lit dynamite into a pond full of fish. (Not that I wouldn’t if I got the chance. I LOVE fish!) Turns out that scrawny little kitten I attacked is like the golden girl of the place, some chick named Hadley who has a few screws loose. She couldn’t even defend herself, and geez o pete, all I did was bap her around a couple times. Honest. But the couple got all soberfaced and said I’d have to be “supervised” with the other cats, and I guess I kinda understand they want me to like ’em, or at least ignore ’em, but geez o pete, I’m eight years old and I’ve spent my whole life keeping other cats outta my yard, so it’s really hard to remember not to get my retaliation in first, y’know? I’m not violent or anything; I’m just set in my ways.

The lady from the couple came in and had a talk with me and she said she understood, but she thought it best that I stay in my own room until they could either find someone who wanted a (and she said this with a straight face) SENIOR cat – Thank you very much lady! – or until they could get me a private room at PetSense. Apparently that’s like a little apartment complex for cats where people come and look at them and see if they want to take them home.

So I’m biding my time, and I’m trying to not mind too much being in this back room. People come in and see me a lot and they all scratch me behind the ears and the couple are very regular with meals and checking my water and giving me friendly back rubs and such. So it’s not terrible, but geez, I’m a little bit bored, y’know? Doesn’t anybody out there want a cat who talks a lot and doesn’t want to live with other cats? (Dogs are fine. I don’t mind them.) Maybe you could come tell this nice couple that you’ll take me? I’m no bother – just feed me, give me someplace to lie in the sun, and hold a conversation with me once in a while. Not much to ask, is it? C’mon, come visit me and let’s see how we get on together. This bookstore ain’t my scene, y’know?

The Monday Book: GRAY MOUNTAIN by John Grisham

tumbsNormally I only do Monday Books on those I’ve liked. This one is a bit half-hearted, but Grisham’s latest is set in our region and tackles the much-ignored topic of mountaintop removal, so almost everyone around here feels an obligation to read it. We need opinions for the church potlucks.

Obligation is a pretty good word. I don’t like dissing authors, or books – unless they’re real creeps, and Grisham isn’t. He just….. kinda didn’t do anything exciting in this book. And, inevitably, even though he spent time in SE Kentucky with some people dedicated to stopping MT removal AND bringing social justice to the Coalfields, he got some important stuff wrong.

It isn’t a big deal that the mileage and directions are way off in his book. It’s fiction. It isn’t a big deal that sometimes he slides into stereotypes even though you can tell he’s trying not to – kinda like a kid learning to ride a bike will guaranteed hit the pothole she’s watching with her whole being, intent on avoiding it. You always hit what you concentrate on avoiding, because you’re concentrating on it rather than the story you have to tell. We don’t mind; it was nice of him to try.

But I knew we were in trouble when Grisham started the serious action of his book with an old “legend” that circulates about SW VA/SE KY/NE TN mountain roads.

The book itself opens with the heroine getting laid off from her high powered-yet-hated legal job. She has a chance to keep her health insurance if she goes to work for a nonprofit, and she winds up taking the “bottom of the barrel” with the only remaining option: in the Coalfields of Appalachia. It must be hard for an author to try not to stereotype while writing about a NYC character coping with moving out of Manhattan. He tried, bless his heart. It made the book a bit flat because at the points where people would’ve been asking some serious questions, the heroine gets all open-minded. Still, his mechanism for driving her to VA is a good one: keep your health insurance if you leave the land of the midnight latte for the exile of rural America. Nice try, Johnny, but your logistics are showing.

Maybe that’s the biggest problem throughout the book. HOW he was trying to tell the story showed as much as the story.

Anyway, she drives into a town thinly disguised as being not-Grundy, VA, and a guy pulls her over in an unmarked police car and threatens her with all kinds of things if she doesn’t come back to the station with him. Including handcuffing and a gun. Turns out he’s the local learning impaired dude who pretends he’s a cop and only pulls over people with Yankee license plates.

We are not amused. You can look up the stories on Snopes, but there really was a rape and murder under this scenario; the guys weren’t handicapped; they were felons. It is not funny to display color local characters in this manner, let alone a town complicit with such dangerous actions. {“Yeah, he’s weird, but he’s ours.”} I began to hate the book at this moment, and probably couldn’t give it a fair read from there forward.

From then on the words skimmed past my eyes very much like an Arthur Hailey novel: all explanation and no storytelling; the facts of mountaintop removal thinly disguised as a fish-out-of-water story; lots of sensational details added about the main characters, a la the unnecessary drama of a Hollywood plot built around a love story. The whole thing just read like… well, like reading the script of your average mid-week 8 pm tv drama. I didn’t care what happened to any of the characters, because I didn’t believe they were real.

Which is annoying, because–let’s give him credit–Grisham is the FIRST big deal author to tackle MT removal, and I don’t care how much I didn’t like the book, I love him as an author for doing that. GOOD FOR YOU MR. G!

But can I add, very sadly, that I wish he’d done a better job of telling a story rather than so obviously trying to talk people into hating the bad guys? The complexities suffered, and so did the communities. But thanks.

mtr