Book Christmas Trees

These days, the word "green" is being bandied about in all sorts of ways. When Kermit sang "It's Not Easy Being Green," he was referring to the color of his skin. Now it could be mistaken for a lament on the difficulties of recycling and saving resources of all kinds for the betterment of the earth. I hear phrases like "my office is green" and no longer assume that the worker is envious of the office next door. But if you are following the latest library trend of book Christmas trees, you would not help but be envious of the creativity used by librarians around the world.

Many libraries are suffering from the lack of a budget for holiday decorations and have found more than one use for their books. They have created trees that require absolutely no water and can be taken apart and reused. The tree above is from Gleeson Library in San Francisco.

From the Old World comes this picture from the University Library of UWM (University of Warmia and Mazury) in Olsztyn, Poland.

Janet Randolph in her Mystery Fanfare blog shows some excellent examples of trees created in this way. I thought I would take a leaf from her book and think about what kind of tree my favorite characters would build.

Ken Bruen's Jack Taylor loves and cherishes his books. He only owns a few due to his somewhat peripatetic lifestyle, but he would honor them with a star. The tree at left is a mixture of tipsy and balance just like Jack himself.

Walt Longmire, a Wyoming sheriff created by Craig Johnson, wouldn't spend the time or effort looking for a tree unless his daughter Cady would be home for the holidays. But I can just see him putting together this collection from his shelf of books because it looks outdoorsy and rustic.

Neil Hamel, a lawyer in Albuquerque, New Mexico spends more time solving her (yes "her," despite the name) cases in novels written by Judith Van Gieson than she does doing housework. After settling down in the evening with a glass of tequila, she would look up at the books on her shelf, realize that there was a method to her collection and she would top it off with a star.

Margaret Maron's Sigrid Harald, a lieutenant in the NYPD, has learned a little color sense from the time she spent with her artist lover Oscar Nauman. Rather than brave the jam-packed New York City crowded streets she would wile away her down time by creating the tree at right. A tall woman, she has considered herself plain, but there is beauty for those with discerning eyes.

Kathy Mallory is another New York City Police lieutenant who has little free time. Those moments of leisure are usually filled with her somewhat nefarious hacking skills. In Carol O'Connell's novels, she is very methodical and precise in both her private and professional life. She might own only a few books because she lives a minimalist lifestyle. She would definitely spend the time it would take to create this tree with its precision corners.

Charlaine Harris's Sookie Stackhouse is quite traditional and would like the red and green displayed in this bright tree. She would have her roommate witch do a spell to get the right number of books in the appropriate colors. Sookie herself has to watch her dollars and would enjoy having a double-use tree.

Peaches Dann is a sleuth created by Elizabeth Daniels Squire. Peaches is getting older and, while she has always had some problems with her memory, she has learned ways to cope. Of all her methods, the endless stream of post-it notes can come in most handy. But how do you handle the little pieces of paper when they have outlived their usefulness? By morphing them back into a tree, of course.

This last tree is one that I might like in my office.

I couldn't find a tree made out of Kindles, Nooks or iPads, but they wouldn't be green anyway.

Altered States

Recently I came across an interesting book entitled Booze and the Private Eye: Alcohol in the Hard-Boiled Novel by Rita Elizabeth Rippetoe. It did bring to mind some long-ago images that were almost constant: strong-jawed silent PIs who were pretty stoic, kept their emotions to themselves and sought their solace in a bottle. These were men like Philip Marlowe, Mike Hammer and Mike Shayne. Similarly tough policemen might spend their evenings in bars, since for most of these men family life had gone by the wayside. I don't recall the term "alcoholic" ever being used. Not even "drunk" very often, but I read those books so very long ago.

An essay by Stephen Budiansky in The Atlantic Monthly humorously compares the tough guys of the past with the modern detective who seemingly frets more about sissy stuff like high blood pressure. He points out that for Phillip Marlowe deep relaxation meant being knocked over the head with a tire iron and going to la-la land for a while and having a health problem might have meant being sapped with a blackjack, beaten with a gun, shackled to a bed post and shot up with heroin. In Strip Jack, John Rebus took a hot bath for deep relaxation for self-help. But here I must stand up for Ian Rankin's Rebus. What he went through in his SAS training was as bad as anything anyone went through–just read Knots and Crosses.

There is no doubt that the life of a crime fighter is tough and the pages of crime fiction are populated with protagonists who are described by the Teddy Thompson song "Altered State":

I like to live in an altered state
It makes me love all the things I hate
And I'm happy to be alive
I like to put on a happy face while I cry on the inside

The only question is, are there more detectives on the bottle these days or on the wagon? Some of my favorite sleuths who have alcohol problems are Harry Hole from the Jo Nesbø series, Ian Rankin's John Rebus, Simon Brett's Charles Paris and John Straley's Cecil Younger. In the female line, I like to follow the adventures of Faith Zanetti in stories with titles like Vodka Neat, Double Shot and My Favorite Poison written by Anna Blundy. These titles give a hint about her tippling and I highly recommend the books.

But at the top of my list, because he loves reading as much as he loves drinking is Ken Bruen's Jack Taylor, a PI who starts his day in his pub, which he calls his office, drinking coffee laced with whiskey to help him open his eyes. He makes no apologies for his love of the eau de vie or any other drug he can get his hands on, but he tries every so often to get straight. All of these detectives seem to solve their cases one way or another, no matter how impaired, and live to serve another day.

Very different from these, but likeable all the same, at the bottom of my list is none other than Leslie Thomas's Dangerous Davies: The Last Detective. Davies was given this moniker because he was said to be harmless and he was known by the London police as the "last detective" because he was never sent unless it was a very risky job or there was no one else. He was a drunk, frequently laughed at, often foolish but he never lost hope and always felt that one day he would redeem himself. Among his many shortcomings was that he was never suspicious or cautious and got beaten up on a regular basis. When interviewing a suspect most often he was the one answering all the questions. When he solved a case it was because he drank not despite it.

Much more common in crime fiction these days is the recovering alcoholic and drug addict. Joining these ranks are Lawrence Block's Matt Scudder, James Lee Burke's Dave Robicheaux, Lilian Jackson Braun's Jim Qwilleran, Nevada Barr's Anna Pigeon, J. A. Jance's J. P. "Beau" Beaumont and Rinus de Gier, a creation of Janwillem van de Wetering. This type of character is sometimes more interesting, because he or she is more open about his emotions and is more likely to have a life outside of the job.

Some of the help for the now-sober has come from AA, some from friends and, for some, a change in lifestyle of a different sort. Van de Wetering described de Gier in ways that resembled himself at times: fashionable, debonair and mustachioed. They both moved to Maine and both cleaned up their life and drinking with the aid of Zen Buddhism. At one point, van de Wetering had stopped writing due to his alcoholism.

Another very famous and successful mystery writer was Raymond Chandler, who was known to have abused alcohol for the duration of his writing career. It has also been theorized that it was alcohol that killed Edgar Allen Poe, although modern theories include many other ideas such as drugs and rabies. Stephen King is quite open about his past in rehab, which was not of the celebrity type.

Rippetoe makes the point that fiction mirrors what society thinks about drink. Well, there is college-aged society, young society, middle-aged society and aged society and fiction aimed at all those groups these days. That leaves quite a bit of leeway. I would be very interested in input from readers with opinions on the subject of the changing role of alcohol or drugs in the lives of detectives and how it impacts their work.