THE STORY SO FAR: PART 133

A FUNNY THING HAPPENED WHEN I WAS IN TOKYO—I SAW MY FIRST BOOK DISPLAYED—AND DIDN’T BELIEVE IT (AT FIRST)

This isn’t Tokyo, by the way. This is a recent photo taken by my daughter, Evie, in Chicago. I’m still thrilled. It’s nice to know my books are still out there—second hand or not.

Tokyo happened in the early Nineties—and it came as a total surprise because I had been told the paperback wouldn’t be out for another month. I recall just staring. I was in shock. I was beyond pleased. I was absolutely ecstatic. You know you work for years just trying to get your book right—but never sure it will see the light of day. Then it gets published—and that is fantastic. But when I realized it was going global, I just flipped. And then to see it in Japan… WOW! I needed a considerable quantity of sake to recover. Fortunately, that is rarely in short supply in Japan. The Japanese drink like—the Irish.

My Tokyo trip was the most successful research trip I have ever made—and I attribute that my wonderful research assistant at the time, Jill Kennedy, plus the fact we took our time preparing the expedition. In fact, I believe we worked on it—on and off—for about a year. It was time well spent. I saw everybody I had planned to see—and many more besides. Perhaps the highlight of a trip that had many highlights was meeting one of my great journalist heroes, Murray Sayle (Illustrated above while receiving an honorary doctorate. The attractive woman next to him was his wife, Sadly Murray died a couple of years ago).

At the time he lived in a little village outside Tokyo—and I find it hard to imagine a finer host. This was a man whose work I had admired for decades, but who was as unpretentious as they come. We talked for hours and he was hugely helpful. Murray was an empath and not only fascinated by Japanese culture, but extremely fond of the people. They help him in equally high regard, and when his house in the village burned down, they all got together and provided him with another.

My Japanese trip led to my second novel, RULES OF THE HUNT. It featured terrorism, A critic on Irish radio said my plot was ridiculous because everyone knew that the Japanese were remarkably law-abiding and there was no terrorism in Japan. About three weeks later, in 1995, the Japanese terrorist group, Aum Shinriko, released Sarin gas in a Tokyo subway. 13 commuters were killed, 54 were seriously injured and 980 were affected.

My critic never did broadcast a retraction.

You know it is truly amazing how few Americans really understood that terrorism posed a very real threat until 9/11. It still does. Nonetheless, the trick is not to over-react. To spend several trillion dollars waging endless wars in Afghanistan and Iraq in response to 9/11 was playing into Bin Laden’s hands. Not only did we waste a prodigious amount of money and an untold number of lives, but we lost the moral high ground too.

All in all, it has been a tragic decade for the U.S. Have the right lessons been learned? I’m far from sure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 132

THE AMERICAN WAY OF HEALTH—GROWING OLDER SICKER—AND DYING SOONER

NOT A GOOD RECORD FOR THE RICHEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD

A few days ago, an authoritative report was issued by the Institute of Medicine which states quite categorically that, on average, Americans experience higher rates of disease and injury, and die sooner, than people in other high income countries.

Americans grow older sicker—with all that such implies in terms of quality of life.

That news should have been devastating enough—we came last out of 17—but it also pointed out that even upper income Americans with health insurance and college educations appear to be sicker than their peers in other rich nations.

The first observation I would make is that the report received surprisingly little publicity. I read about it in the New York Times on January 10 2013, but have detected no follow-up stories of substance. That is terrifying in itself. Once again, America has been singularly ill-served by its media. Painful truths of national significance—which might disrupt the advertising flow—have a way of not being discussed. So much for free speech.

But why should U.S. health results be so alarming? For instance, this country ranked last, or close to last, in nine areas including heart disease, chronic lung disease, obesity and diabetes, injuries and homicides, and sexually transmitted diseases.

I don’t pretend to know the answers, but let me hypothesize:

• A significant section of the population does not have adequate healthcare.
• Medical practice, in itself, is profit rather than results driven, and is deeply flawed.
• The nation is over-medicalized, particularly in relation to prescription drugs.
• The American diet is arguably the worst in the developed world. Industrial food, and fast food, are killing us. Our food ingredients—from beef to our water supply—are largely contaminated.
• The American aversion to vacations is contributing to a singularly stressful environment—with all its attendant consequences.
• The U.S. environment is heavily polluted.
• The U.S. way of life—sedentary, highly stressed, largely uniformed, and aggressive—is scarcely conducive to a long and healthy life.

I make these observation reluctantly. I’m a guest in this country. Still, this is too important an issue to remain silent about.

It is salutary to think that these terrible results exist despite the fact that the U.S spends roughly 18 percent of its GDP on health—vastly more than other developed nations. The top end—countries such as Germany, Switzerland and France—spend roughly 12 percent of GDP to achieve vastly better results. In effect, the U.S. spends 50 percent more to achieve an inferior result. That difference of 6 percent of GDP, which could be used to improve the quality of American life, in effect functions as an additional tax.

U.S. politicians, particularly Republicans, like to trumpet that the U.S. has the best healthcare in the world. The facts do not support that statement; or come close.

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 131

PRETTY SISTERS—NEPHEW 21

My sister Lucy—dark haired on the left—is the youngest member of the family, and arguably the sanest.

Frankly, that is not saying a great deal—but, for all that, I live in hopes that she is as sensible as she seems. A nephew recently referred to her as “the matriarch of the family.” Strange that the youngest should be awarded such a title—but there it is. It is a title, and an honor, she has earned. She anchors those of us who still survive. I am the eldest of twelve—69 in May—and four of us are prematurely dead.

On the right is my sister, Leslie—the blond—and as appealing as ever. Leslie lives in Northern France. If she lived in Southern France—preferably South-West France—she would be a perfect sister. My plan is to live, write and die in that part of the world. I don’t quite know why--the area just resonates with me. The family—well, part of it—originally comes from Normandy, which is in Northern France. We come from the city of Calvados—a name much associated with its fine apple brandy.

What can I say! Evidently the counts of Lentaigne de Logivieres (the family name before the French Revolution and the guillotine interrupted their progress) liked to live well. Then came accelerated social change in the form of the guillotine. Benjamin Lentaigne escaped that rather undesirable experience—supposedly by making love to the jailer’s daughter—and thus started a new branch of the family in Ireland. He had been a soldier. He became a doctor. Two generations later, his grandson, Sir John Lentaigne, became doctor to the viceroy of Ireland and was knighted into the bargain. Evidently, the Lentaignes were an able and socially mobile lot.

The good-looking young man in the center is my nephew, Errol. . I have never met him and regret that such is the situation. Shortly, I hope to fly 6,000 miles to remedy that deficiency.

Happy twenty-first birthday Emanuel—not pictured, unfortunately! You have quite a tradition to uphold—and I have no doubt that you will do just that.

This is what Lucy said on Facebook about Emanuel.

"Tomorrow my son Emmanuel will be 21, it only feels like yesterday when at the age of 4, on hearing classical music in McDonalds, whilst in the queue, he grabbed me and demanded I do a waltz with him. It was soooo cute. Now he is a young man and has already accomplished a great deal in his life. I hope his birthday is as special as he is."

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 130

E-MAIL FROM A CHESS MASTER

I heard from my brother, Guy, this Christmas—and was very pleased. Well, technically, he is a half brother—his father was my much loved step-father, Alfred Lyons—but we never made anything of that particular technicality.

Mind you we rowed about just about everything else. My mother was, to put it at its politest, volatile—so set a rather disastrous tone. Accordingly, it was the family custom to over-react when we were young. I suspect we have all mellowed since then.

Guy has made a great success of his life in a Hobbit-like way—to quote him. He has his own decorating business, a lovely wife, and is an exceptional chess player. He lives in Glasgow, Scotland.

I don’t know him very well—more is the pity—but hope to remedy that. As readers of this blog will gather, family life was complicated.

Personally, I don’t play chess, though have done so in the past. In fact, I well recall an epic game with my step-father, Alfred, which lasted for something like 12 hours. Good grief! All that reading and writing time lost! I have been a book-worm from an early age.

But, I will freely admit, chess is one hell of a game. I’m very proud of brother, Guy. He has triumphed against considerable adversity.

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 129

SPEAKING OF AMAZING LOGOS—ONE WOULD BE HARD PRESSED TO TOP THE SAS’S—NOW THERE IS A CAP BADGE WHICH COMMANDS ATTENTION & RESPECT

I first became interested in the SAS because they were founded by David Stirling, someone from my old school, Ampleforth College; and, secondly, because their initial area of operations was North Africa—where I had had a relation killed. His name, JOHN LENTAIGNE M.C. was carved into on the paneling of our house refectory, and picked out in gold, so it was rather hard to forget him. M.C. stands for Military Cross.

Beyond that I found special forces particularly interesting. They did away with much of the posturing and spit and polish that characterizes conventional forces, and focused almost entirely on their mission. Further, the dead weight frequently associated with rank—a significant, but inadequately discussed problem in my opinion—was minimized and individual troopers were encouraged to think and act for themselves—albeit within the context of the mission.

Strange as it may seem, that is not way the military normally work. Most armed forces, the world over, are authoritarian to a fault—and authoritarianism, mindlessness and micromanagement are close relations. Conventional big armies—regardless of the bravery and professionalism of individual soldiers—tend to be crude, clumsy, and bloody instruments of policy.

The special forces approach just seemed common sense to me, so I read everything I could about unconventional warfare; and how units, such as the SAS, operated. After that, I dug a little deeper—and got to know people; and had a few adventures into the bargain. Do that for fifty years—it really has been that long—and you develop a certain base of knowledge and a sense of things. That said, I have never had any ambition to be in such a unit. I am a writer; and I say that with some pride.

Do I write about everything I know or surmise? No. I’m not out to reveal operational details which might put our people at unnecessary risk. Instead, I focus on telling a rattling good story which feels both credible and authentic—and, above all, is entertaining.

Amongst many other things—this is a major adventure story—my fourth and latest Fitzduane book, THE BLOOD OF GENERATIONS, tells the remarkable story of the actual foundation of the SAS. It involved David Stirling, who was still on crutches after an injury, breaking into British military headquarters in Egypt in order to pitch his innovative plan. Madness? A true story—and he succeeded.

Ironically, the newly founded SAS’s first mission was a disaster so it seemed highly probable the unit would be disbanded. Sterling solved that problem by refusing to return to base until he had racked up some success. That success came quickly, and it was spectacular.

The SAS was originally designed to function in the distinctive desert terrain of North Africa where infiltrating German lines was relatively straightforward because of the sheer scale of the battlespace. The Germans hadn’t enough troops to guard both their flanks and their rear. But heavily populated mainland Europe, for instance, was held to be different. Accordingly, severe doubts were expressed as to whether the Regiment could operate as successfully in more restricted terrain. Results in WW II and since then have shown that the SAS is terrain independent, and that its real strength lies in the quality of its people and mindset.

In my book, the main WW II action sequences are set behind German lines in France. Their mission, based upon actual events, is to delay or destroy a German SS Panzer Division from deploying from its base near Toulouse, in South West France, to Normandy in order to counter the allied invasion.

The names of those members of the SAS who have died on duty are inscribed on the regimental clock tower at Stirling lines. Those whose names are inscribed are said to have failed to "beat the clock" by surviving members. Inscribed on the base of the clock is a verse from The Golden Road to Samarkand by James Elroy Flecker:

We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go

Always a little further: it may be

Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow

Across that angry or that glimmering sea ...

 

 

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 128

WHY MY YOUNGEST SON IS CALLED BRUFF

I like names which are distinctive, yet simple—and spelt phonetically at that. For instance, my eldest daughter is called Kira. Now there are several different ways of spelling that, ranging from Keira to the more complex (some Irish names are very hard to spell) but I lobbied for simplicity in the interests of her having one less problem to deal with in life. As it is, dealing with the apostrophe in “O’Reilly” is headache enough. Some computer systems can handle it—and some can’t. 

Bruff was originally my son’s working title when he was still in the womb. We could have called him “the bump” or something like that, but Bruff seemed more social, and I liked the name immediately I saw it. It is actually the name of a little town in County Limerick, Ireland just beside Lough Gur. At the time it was chosen, we were driving through it—no more than that.

Later, when Bruff popped into the world—a process that was, as is nature’s way, not quite that easy—the name seemed to fit.

Authors tend to attach a great deal of importance to names because they are so integral to one’s characters. If you use a name belonging to a friend, you can end up thinking of the friend not your fictional character—and that is undesirable because characters must develop lives of their own. As for the little town of Bruff, what I remember most about it was that is was just beside the rather pretty lake of Lough Gur. In the U.S., Gur would be called a pond, but in Ireland, where the scale tends towards the human, larger hills are called mountains and any reasonable body of water is honored by being called a lake.

Here is what Wikipedia says about the town of Bruff:

Bruff (Irish: Brú na nDeise) is a town in east County Limerick, in the midwest of Ireland, located on the old Limerick–Cork road (R512). The town lies on the Morning Star river, with two bridges in the town itself. The horse-shoe lake of Lough Gur is nearby.

Historical artifacts around the area date back to the Stone Age, with various buildings up to the early Christian still extant. Bruff is the hometown of American missionary and bishop John Joseph Hogan. In the sixteenth century it was granted to the Standish family from whom it passed by inheritance to the Hartstonge Baronets, and ultimately to the Earl of Limerick.

The town suffered heavy fighting in the Battle of Killmallock during the Irish Civil War. Near the Catholic Church, there is a large statue of Sean Wall, commander of the East LimerickIrish Republican Army and chairman of Limerick County Council until his death on May 6, 1921 during the War of Independence.

The former seat of the O'Grady family, Kilballyowen, is near Bruff.

It is also reputed that former US President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was a descendant of the Fitzgeralds of Bruff.^[2]

I do rather like the punch line. The Irish will claim credit for anything, and not infrequently, that credit is deserved.

 

 

THE STORY SO FAR: PART 127

A TENTATIVE FIRST ATTEMPT TO START (no more) WRITING A BRIEF FOR MY NEW LOGO

Funnily enough, I have written many a design brief in my day. I started with pack designs when I worked for United Biscuits in the UK (where a biscuit is what in the U.S. is called a cookie).

The results were generally excellent because I was working with a thoroughly experienced designer who knew all the parameters in detail—and kept me out of trouble.

My later experiences were more mixed, though I had a very good run when I worked with a designer called John Drewry (who is also an actor of considerable talent-and a friend for decades). John’s work, if not necessarily great design, was consistently commercially effective. He was, in essence, a graphic problem solver—and doubtless still is. And he is blessed with a great sense of humor.

All in all, I seem to have initiated much competent work, but I cannot say, with honesty that a single, truly great logo emerged (though two came close). That said, such briefs did, on occasion, result in some extraordinarily effective advertising—but I have also been bitterly disappointed.

Either way, I think it is no more than common sense for a client to try and write as clear a brief as possible. Since many clients neither quite know what they want, nor can write in the first place, clear briefs are the exceptions rather than the rule. It is not easy being being a graphic designer.

My sense is that it helps greatly if there is some chemistry between client and designer, and that each knows the other well. However, we don’t always live in the best of all possible worlds, so doubtless working with someone you have never met over the internet can work too (he admitted grudgingly). But, I still feel that you are likely to get the best work if there is some kind of personal relationship—and ideally the designer should be familiar with his clients’ business in reasonable detail.

The best logos I have ever seen are the various versions incorporated in the V For Vendetta books and the movie. They are truly remarkably strong.

Purposes of Logo

These will be multiple:

• To attract favorable attention.
• To help distinguish the author’s name from the competition.
• To suggest a certain distinctive quality of writing.
• To enliven the look of all material associated with the author from book covers to websites, from letterheads to promotional banners

 

Characteristics of logo

• To be instantly recognizable.
• To be effective in both color and black and white.
• To be identifiable—in combination with a distinctive house style—on on a book cover from a reasonable distance (say 12 feet)
• When in color, to be bright and attention getting—primary colors preferred.
• To be scalable
• To be clear

 

Do I, the client, have any particular concepts in mind?

I have some vague thoughts which are not set in stone. Let me get them off my chest in no particular order.

• Primarily, I write thrillers—where the symbol of a helicopter is almost synonymous with the genre—but I also write social comment and humorous books too. Given a terrific thriller logo, I’ll inflict that on my other readers, but I thought I’d mention the dichotomy.
• I used to have a rather elegant letter heading in which the apostrophe in my name was replaced by a shamrock, but I don’t want to trade on the Irish connection in such a blatant way since I am actually Anglo-Irish. In fact, my mother married Terence O’Reilly after I was born so my real name was originally Lentaigne. Now the Lentaignes have been in Ireland since the late 18th century—the founder member fled from the French Revolution—so I identify more with that side of the family. The full family name is Lentaigne de Logivieres and they were aristocrats from Calvados, Normandy, France. Is there any potential in a Norman knight? The protagonist of all my books, Hugo Fitzduane, is also descended from a Norman knight, and his castle features in all my stories.
• A significant part of my first book was set in Bern, Switzerland. The symbol of Bern is a stylized bear and the coloring of the whole shield gives it unusual impact. Also, unlike many traditional coats of arms, it isn’t cluttered. It is absolutely clear.
• The current face being used for the title and author’s name on the book covers is Haettenschweiler. Internally, headings are set in Arial Black and body copy in Georgia 12.
• My friend, Tim Roderick, has suggested that a logo could be devised from the shape used to identify VOR (Visual Omnidirectional Range) since our initials are the same. I have no strong views on the matter. Right now it is bald and geometric but with the perimeter thickened and colored, and an image placed in the canter, it could look quite striking.
• My mother was born in Burma and a great uncle commanded the Chindits in WW II. Accordingly, the Chinthe could have relevance.  The Chinthe is a leogryph (lion-like creature) that is often seen at the entrances of pagodas and temples inBurma and other Southeast Asian countries. The chinthe is featured prominently on the kyat, the currency of Burma. The chinthe is almost always depicted in pairs, and serve to protect the pagoda. They typically appear as animals, but are sometimes found with human faces.
• This is the badge of the actual Chindits (the Chinthe is illustrated in many different ways). Now since I wasn’t even born before the actual Chindits were formed in 1943—it would be improper to use it directly—but the coloring does have appeal, and I’m actually using it on book covers (without then knowing the Chindit association).
• This is a Dunguaire Castle—a classic Norman keep—essentially a square or rectangular tower—similar to the one featured in my Hugo Fitdzuane books. They were built all over Ireland after the Norman invasion 1169. However, the Normans intermarried with the Irish—and became “more Irish than the Irish themselves”—so English rule of Ireland did not really become oppressive (a relative term) until roughly 400 years later. Fitzduane’s castle, of course, has a flat roof.

   

To be continued…