Kris Kristofferson, RIP

Terrible singer, but he sure wrote plenty of great songs that plenty of great singers wanted to sing. Apologies to Johnny, Janis, and the rest, but this is the best. 

Late summer fiction potpourri

The Sellout
Paul Beatty

Beatty's nutty-serious ode to modern American Blackness in all its pain and contradictions doesn't so much rapidly veer between hilarity, cringe, bitterness, and rage as stick them all in a Vitamix and turn it on high. But for all that, there is love and tenderness too, and beauty and virtuosity in the writing. Amazing.

Creation Lake
Rachel Kushner

This got raves from Dwight Garner, and while I can't say it competes with The Sellout, for much of the novel it had me pretty well hooked. There are effectively two narrators: our protagonist, "Sadie," a corporate spy/ agent provocateur hired to take down some anarcho-eco-types who are making trouble for a big water project in the south of France; and one of their guiding mentors, a recluse who mostly lives in a cave and whose rambling emails (intercepted by Sadie) look to the Neanderthals for insights into how to live in a post-industrial, post-warming, post-sapiens world. All that is pretty entertaining stuff, and offers the kind of food for thought that would be just about perfect for a weed-enhanced conversation in your sophomore dorm room. But this is also a thriller, after all, and eventually you will want to find out which side wins, and especially whether the astute but sociopathic and mercenary Sadie turns out maybe to have a heart of gold, or at least a few second thoughts – or rather gets her comeuppance. No spoiler here, except to say that the novel completely fizzles out, as if Kushner had reached her page limit, or perhaps the weed was a little too potent. And again without giving away too much, Kushner lets Sadie off the moral hook in a most unsatisfactory manner. Irksome. 

All the Sinners Bleed
S.A. Cosby

I'm not big on crime novels featuring gruesome serial murders, but I'll make an exception for S.A. Cosby. This may be his best so far. 

Farewell, My Lovely
Raymond Chandler

A delightful yarn. No need to picture Bogart or Mitchum as Marlowe while you read, but you can if you want to. 

A Man Lay Dead
Ngaio Marsh

One of her first books, and my first novel by Marsh, one of the three grande dames of murder mysteries. I found the writing and the characterizations less dated than I had expected. I just might read another.

Carson Pass Country, late summer

I was up there last week for a couple of nights in Woods Lake Campground. It's among my favorite places. Carson Pass and its nearby lakes and meadows are at their best in midsummer, when the wildflower display is the best I know of in the Sierras. But late summer brings its own palette of warm colors and soft textures. And you still come across the occasional lupine, pussy-paw, or monkeyflower, taking advantage of one of the last remaining snow patches or moist seeps, hoping to attract a late-season pollinator and go to seed before the snows bury everything again.

On the way home, I stopped at Chaw'Se and Black Chasm Cavern, both near cute as a button Volcano, CA. Don't miss either one.