Southern-fried gothic

Harry Crews smiles for the cameraHi y’all. I just got back from vacationing in the lovely city of Savannah, Georgia, a place steeped in ghost stories and dark, rich literary history.

Aside from the aforementioned book, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, Savannah happens to be home to the famed Pirates’ House. Serving grog since 1753, the Pirate’s House was visited by Robert Louis Stevenson before he penned a little book called Treasure Island. (Arrrrrrrrrrrrr. Go on, you know you wanna say it).

Speaking of famous childhood reads, Joel Chandler Harris also lived there. Now fodder for a Jeopardy question, Harris penned Uncle Remus. If you’re my age, you might vaguely remember that Disney turned it into the now racially insensitive, Song of the South—which has consequently been locked away in their archives, never to be seen again. The song Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah is still catchy though.

But the one place that gave me goosebumps was the home of Flannery O’Conner. (Her childhood home is open to the public). I have to admit that Flannery and I got off to a bad start. I fell asleep while a Flannery O’Conner award-winner was reading an excerpt from…something. Nevertheless, I picked up a copy of A Good Man Is Hard to Find and Other Stories and enjoyed it.

I’m not a literary purist—far from it. But I have slogged through enough dreck to admire Flannery and Eudora Welty, in context of their roots. (The jury is still out on Carson McCullers). Though for pure, bullet-between-the-eyes Southern ugliness you can’t beat Harry Crews. You also probably can’t stomach Harry Crews either. Which is why God gave us Pat Conroy (The Great Santini, Lords of Discipline, Prince of Tides), another Georgia resident—still, not a writer to be consumed if you’re on antidepressants. (Check with your doctor first).

On a happier note, the kids go back to school TOMORROW. Woot!

Vacation in the Garden of Good and Evil

I’m in that city-wide sauna known as Savannah, Georgia at the moment. The temp is a gravy-stained 94˚. But with the humidity I think it must be somewhere around 375˚. (I’m not sure exactly, but we bought a frozen turkey at Food Lion and the built-in meat thermometer popped up by the time we got home).

Savanna is an incredibly beautiful and historic place. It’s also known as the Most Haunted City in America. Coincidentally it's one of the burgeoning murder capitals of the South, and home to the nation's oldest orphanage. I guess one goes with the other.

The historical district, with 24 town squares draped in Spanish moss has the distinction of being one of the few places Sherman didn’t burn on his pyromaniacal march through Georgia. He left behind colonial era buildings, gardens, and cotton mills––an eclectic mix of rebel cemeteries, statuary and of course fresh pralines, served warm at sweet-shops everywhere. There’s Brunswick stew, Paula Deen restaurants and that tasty southern sacrament—Chick-Fil-A.

But, it’s also the setting of one of the most celebrated pseudo-non-fiction books of the last decade. John Berendt’s Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, which hung around the NYT’s Bestseller list for an unheard of 216 weeks. Berendt’s book showcased the eclectic nature of Savannah—hustlers, art dealers and a local drag queen named Madame Chablis. Walking around the downtown area, one can appreciate where that inspiration came from.

The setting here is so strong and distinct, it almost becomes a character itself.

Which is why when I was researching HOTEL, I needed to give myself a virtual walking tour. I bought a city map from 1947 (thanks eBay). I poured over the history of Seattle’s Chinatown—with its brothels, backroom casinos and gin-clubs. I slogged through online databases at the Wing Luke Museum.

But I also spent time there as a child, and went back to reorient my self (no pun intended). I walked the streets and took copious notes. I slipped through Canton Alley, and bought fresh mooncakes at the Mon Hei bakery (I recommend the melon ones). There are certain smells, good and unpleasant, and sounds, that you can only get from being there.

Okay, back to Savannah. I gotta run. Right after I take my 3rd shower for the day. But before I go, where is your story set? And what are you doing to make it come alive? (This is why I admire SF&F writers—they have to build whole worlds. I’m just a tourist in mine).

Good news for those with short attention spans

Book update: If there’s a time and a place for everything the time is probably around September 3rd. The place is Publishers Weekly and/or Publishers Marketplace. The what would be my aforementioned “big news”.  (Hey, it’s big to me, anyway). I wish I could say more, but I can’t. Sorry. I don’t mean to be such a tease.

In the meantime, there’s a bit of a blog magazine drive going on. It started with Doug Cohen over at Slushmaster and is making the rounds. A noble and worthwhile effort, if you ask me. (I just renewed my subscription to Asimov’s and bought back issues of IGMS). If you’re a fan of short fiction in all its glorious shapes and sizes, by all means show your support and BUY some.

Doug is focusing on speculative fiction, which I think is especially timely since the last time I checked, Audible.com has the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Road listed under the banner of Science Fiction & Fantasy. Still, I have a hard time picturing a metal-bikini-clad Princess Leia look-alike getting her fan pic taken with an aged Cormac McCarthy at this year’s Comic-Con.

Of course it’s being outsold by Neil Gaiman’s Stardust, so I guess “literature” has once again been bested by faerie tales.

Chinatown, circa 2007

I love Chinatowns. I’ve had incredible dim sum in NYC’s Chinatown and bought firecrackers in an alley of San Fran’s. But Seattle’s Chinatown is different.

That is to say, it’s dying.

Not because of gangs, drugs or some other inner-city blight. Seattle’s Chinatown is simply being squeezed out economically. Between I-5 to the northeast and the Kingdome (now replaced by Qwest Field) to the west, Seattle’s Chinatown has been gentrified into a coma. You could say that the expansive Uwajimaya grocery store is bucking that trend. But beyond that, there are a heartbreakingly large number of vacant buildings in the International District.

Maybe the neighborhood where my grandfather met my grandmother in a back-room gambling parlor in the 20s (he was a croupier, she was a coat-check girl) isn’t quite dead, but it’s certainly on life-support.

Which is why I set my novel there, in the 40s and the 80s. That’s also why I changed the title of my novel to HOTEL ON THE CORNER OF BITTER AND SWEET. Yin and yang. Day and night. The newborn nursery and the geriatric ward. The life and death––of a place, and a childhood.

Hopefully people will remember how cool this place once was, and still is.