The Monday Book: Killers of the Flower Moon

Jack is doing the review today

Killers of the Flower Moon – David Grann

This is a wonderfully researched book about a very dark piece of US history. A branch of the Osage nation found themselves accidentally sitting on top of a massive oil deposit on their reservation in Oklahoma. If what followed had been in the 18th or 19th centuries it might not have been too surprising, but it actually took place in the 1920s.

Over a period of years numerous members of an extended Osage family died – either mysteriously or simply murdered and they all had enormous income from the oil. To begin with no one was charged with any of the killings and there were various reasons for that.

Grann was determined to get to the bottom of the story and the book does just that!

I don’t want to give too much away, because I really want as many people as possible to read this, but here are a few pointers. Many of the Osage, despite their wealth, were put under the oversight of a white ‘guardian’; the State political situation was rampantly rigged, and one man was at the head of the whole shenanigans.

Behind all this, what would later become the FBI was just being set up and J. Edgar Hoover appointed an investigator called Tom White to look into the whole affair.

The two heroes of this book are Tom White and David Grann.

I thoroughly recommend it.

More Than Words

I’m a bad blogger, guys. The world is full of people shooting words at each other. Sharpening them as weapons to hurl through the online nonexistent air of the Internet. Bending them to fit their needs. Shaping them into typeset gravitas delivered in newspapers and magazines to doors shut tight against other ideas.

 Writers like to think we’re part of the solution, but when we can’t find words that soothe, heal, or maybe just provide a good escape for a bit of time, perhaps we dry up.

Out here in the woods of The Blue House, the place friends loan me to get away from the Net and all the rest, the woods are vibrant with color. Oranges melting to browns, greens growing into reds so vivid you think there might be apples on a tree.

Old roads, made from older wagon tracks, lead to abandoned homesteads and barns that look as though they would fall over with one push of a wolf’s paw. Never mind all the huffing and puffing; just breathe, and walk. Look around and soak in some peace and quiet.

Soak it in so maybe it can translate into friendly, quiet, thoughtful words to send out. I hope I can share the savoring with you, because in the end isn’t that what such things are for? When we fill up we can pour out.

Either way, living in the moment, enjoying the leaves and the silence, is a thing to be savored. So that’s why the blog post is small this week, and I hope you are savoring things of your own. Perhaps you’re at a beach where earth, air, and water share conjoined contentment. Family time with changing leaves and thresholds, the first powdery snows of Northern climes, covering tracks and crevices.

Wherever you are, soak it in and have a great weekend.