Je ne regrette rien

Or so sang the great Piaf. I utter the phrase in a less global way; after reading the news of the day, despite accusations of all sorts of nefariousness from readers who have clearly taken deep offense, I apologize for nothing. Behold this

I have used no one's actual name, depicted no offenses so contemptible, and most important, I write with far more grace and empathy than Mr. Crichton. If my novels were ever to be filmed, their success would be in the hands of the actors, not the people who do the animatronic special effects. (Even the redoubtable Fang would require no more technology than the little trouper who performed so many decades ago in the role of Toto.)

Limbo Rock and a Hard Place

I ask the reader's pardon for a little pawky humor, but really, there are times when one must make a stand. I am holding a post from my most recent dissatisfied interlocutor, who is steadfastly insisting that I am things which primary sources, as the scholars say, do not substantiate:

- Republican;
- Plural;
- "Elitist,"
- in cahoots with the police;
- "out to make Arlington a country club,"
- out to eliminate "liberals, affordable housing, poor people, minorities," and "social activists who refused to conform;"
- malicious (I will admit to mischievous).

Yet Ms. Puce (as we shall call him or her), who asserts all these things so repeatedly and stridently, refuses to answer a few trivia questions which would demonstrate at least some familiarity with my small pulp romps and undermine her queer claims. I fling the gauntlet down to you, Ms. Puce, I fling it. Answer my questions, or I will assume that you are some sort of cybernetic drone, a la Star Trek, programmed only to repeat a roster of peculiar accusations.


(1) What is on the floppy disk that arrives at the Spectator office, and why does Smitty wonder if it could be a motive for murder?

(2) Smitty spends Chapter 9 of Murder Across the Board in conversation with two positive, resourceful characters. What are their respective ethnic groups?

(3) The baseball stadium is considered a negative in Murder out of the Ballpark because it will destroy A. A lovely view of the monuments from a posh high rise; B. One of the last modest-priced housing co-ops in Arlington.

(4) And, for a bonus: Which Department of the Arlington Government is decried as "corrupt from the top down, or incompetent from the inside out"? (Hint: Chapter 11, page 102 of Murder Across the Board.)

Posts repeating the old accusations will be held in Limbo until the answers arrive.

Votes, Vice and Versa

I have been anticipated in a post I was composing by a visitor who mentions that yours truly did indeed receive a couple of write-ins in the recent hotly contested election. One has no illusions of political viability, but one is bounced by the bit of newspaper publicity – and the fact that one's pseudonym made it through the winnowing out of "fictional characters." Perhaps this is persuasive evidence that one is not fictional.

Alas, other posters are less amiable, and allege that I am not Miss Jane at all, but a "small group of malicious individuals with an elitist agenda. And vice versa." One must take the good and the bad together, but how does one become the vice versa of "a group with an elitist agenda"?

My first bouquet!

Well, perhaps that is disingenuous, as I had had advance notice following my last too-long-ago post. But lo! One reclines with the local paper after a turbulent week (families can be dreadfully stressful, but I shall not tire you with it) and finds one has made the political pages. One has indeed been voted for -- or at least one of one's characters has! And the matter has been publicly recorded!

(No, I adamantly refuse to write any sort of election rematch featuring said character. As an otherwise sulky reader noted, he has had quite a bit of profile and will, I think, have to sit in the corner with the naughty boys for a while.)

Here in my parlor we had become almost jaded at this year's election once again, descending as it has done into repetitive slanging on the one hand, and almost stupefyingly correct behavior on the part of my most colorful character models on the other. Perhaps it was only the frustration of personal matters, but one truly wishes for a fistfight or scandal. Shall I have to venture into state politics for plot inspiration? But now I have at least some reason to anticipate the election returns with excitement, and it will give zest to my work now that things have calmed down a bit in the Parlor and I can return to my loom.

Vote for Jane?

A charming reader -- who will be nameless, as I did not get permission to publish the e-mail in question -- has made an unexpected and intriguing suggestion. Rather than nominate a favorite local "character" or potential plot twist for future narratives, this flattering person directed me to the write-in results for the 2005 election, where I was enormously bounced to find that no less than three Arlington voters had written your humble servant in as their selection for County Board. My correspondent was prepared to circulate the notion again this fall, at the grass-roots level if you will.

What am I to think of this? One is so little a public person, and yet one's heart cannot help beating a little faster at the thought of a boldly stenciled "Barcroft for Board" signboard among the glossier placards at the entry to the polls. And then there is the cachet of dynasty; one would not be the first "J. Barcroft" to be so drafted by the voting public, and one thinks of the great names of American political succession -- Adams; Roosevelt; umm.... Bush. Well.

Am I foolish to dandle such dreams of empire? To stand, even anonymously, for public office, and ride in triumph through Persepolis!

On taking requests, and graciousness

I return periodically to considering whether I may have been a bit inconsistent with my interlocutor of the weekend, who was requesting -- and I have after all solicited requests -- that I give some profile to the "community activists" who make Arlington "a better place to live." (Better than what? one is tempted to ask. The author was on a bus travelling through Newark, NJ once.) Certainly among this lot there must be some vivid characters to be found, if only my guest had been more specific about which activists (or at least which activist groups) have in his opinion made Arlington "better." But even in that boardroom minstrel line that seemed to so grate on him, there are folk who have done more than merely wed the podium. Models for my last cast of characters included a former member of the Fiscal Advisory Commission, a member of the Housing Commission and emeritus of the Community Services Board, and a recipient of the Sun-Gazette Cup for volunteer service to the community. Apparently none of these folk were quite civic enough for my correspondent, whose admonitions were therefore maddeningly vague. I would accept even well-honed hints for future character models, if no one felt quite comfortable naming names.

At any rate, Murder Behind the Scenes will feature a most romantic portrayal of a passionate advocate for the downtrodden. It will even feature the downtrodden. Surely that will mollify some of my readers.

The Blind Men and the Elephant, or the Novel as Rorschach

Civility got rather strained during the comments on the last post (I humbly admit my part, and have resolved to abstain from even genially crude Anglicisms starting with "b"). It all put me in mind of the old chestnut about the blind men and the elephant, as parlayed by one of the consciousness-raising gurus of our bustling culture. Beyond the human weakness for extrapolating from the obvious -- the elephant is like a wall, or a tree, or what have you depending on the part you encounter -- this guru enlarged upon the human weakness for reading various characteristics into the elephant. A blind Bill Clinton comes over the trunk and says "obviously quite a lover," a blind George Bush finds the tusk and says "clearly a warrior," and so on.

Something rather like this is happening with my modest little tales. To each person who reads them, they are emblematic of something that person finds important about local politics, and to this reader, that is their most important feature. One high-profile activist sees a parable about the County being run by developers. A poster to this blog focuses on the unfairness of basing a novel on the antics of the Boardroom's most consistent and colorful denizens, because they are "fringe players" and the author should have focused on the worker bees of the community. I have seen a post on another blog (Google is a wonderful thing) claiming that Murder Out of the Ballpark attacked heterosexuals for being heterosexual (one can only throw up one's hands after a quarter hour or so of attempting to comprehend this). One has made one's little comic foray, and discovers belatedly that it has so many fascinating subtexts!

But, now that we have had our laugh, does this not all beg a larger question? Does it not suggest that, to those with at least a minor hold on the engines of the community, never mind our movers and shakers, the world is some sort of Rorschach blot? It is thought provoking to imagine how many deeply personal agendas are converging when a group of citizens reaches consensus.

Life Imitates Art

I do suspect that my recent reviewer on Amazon must be chums with the amiable person who dropped in here after the last post. I can't recall remarking anywhere that I intended to write a trilogy, but both writers seem to share that curious assumption. Actually I only intended to write one book, virtually on a dare, but in the lengthy gap between creation and publication it became enticing to write the beginning of a second and see if there was enough interest to warrant proceeding with it. The enthusiasm from some of my own characters remains a bit of a shock.

One has few bones to pick with the reviews. Invention was challenged by the effort in Ballpark to include requests from more than one quarter -- it helps when a major paper publishes one's e-mail -- and one concludes that the twenty-first century's answer to the epistolary form (so beautifully exploited by Bram Stoker in his day) does not work as well as its forerunner. The tale currently in the works will contain no Internet exchanges, instrumental as they are in the political life of Arlington, where it seems every neighborhood has its own Yahoogroup.

It is harder to apologize for Pastorelli, who is the sort of character prone to take over a situation if he is not watched (readers of the tease fragment for Murder Behind the Scenes will deduce that I have found a way to sideline him for most of the story, without removing him utterly from the cast, which would be a pity). Truly, his model is someone whose long history of heavy-handed board-room performances, dating back to the days of the revered Ellen Bozman, strike one as having been already made up by some comic writer.

But I do dearly hope no one expects these bagatelles of mine to be a Baedeker of Arlington politics. One uses local affairs as a jumping off point, but it would be churlish to involve too much bald truth in a story colorful enough to make good fiction. One is not attempting to write Primary Colors, or any similar hinted-at tell-all. In fact, the backroom dealings and romantic upheavals of both novels are purely the invention of the author, who primarily enjoys drawing a good portrait -- and then seeing how well those portraits can be fitted into the festival of stock situations that is the generic pulp mystery plot. (One's hero must be crossed in love; get soundly roughed up at some point; do a bit of hard drinking; and oh so necessarily, be pounced upon by a femme fatale.) Truly, the rampant improbability of various parties having New Jersey Mafia connections, or attracting the attentions of loose women, etc., is part of the amusement. And then there was the author's ambition to use more characters made up out of the whole cloth in a second attempt. Perhaps Ballpark tried to do a few too many things at once. Life does imitate Art in some small ways, though. One hears that some of the real estate dealings of Ballpark have been approximated in real life, though without the desperation and coercion.

As for this "trilogy" misapprehension, perhaps it should be hexed right away by seeking requests for a future installment built around the well beloved Arlington County Fair. Whom would my readers like to see showcased? Or simply eighty-sixed? Which County Department seems to you most rife with skulduggery? I will avoid trying to do everything at once this time, but take all suggestions under advisement.

A note on etiquette

Etiquette is so awfully important. That is why I have moderated this blog. I have only two moderation policies: I will edit or block comments that genuinely violate privacy -- anyone's -- and I will do the same with posts that are profane or abusivc. Oh, the characters in my novels speak quite coarsely at times, for that is realism, and some readers feel that those same characters are extraordinarily like persons they know and possibly love. But that is the privilege of fiction, which is, by definition, made up.

You say you cannot be sure which parts of my stories I made up? Ah, then assume that invention was at work anent any detail which has no obvious foundation in fact.

With that in mind, do drop in.

Come into my parlor

Welcome to my tiny island of civility and literacy. If you've read my novels, you know I can't decide whether politics is a comedy or a soap opera. On good days, it's both. We might as well admit it, and enjoy it.

If you've read Murder Across the Board, or the newly published Murder out of the Ballpark, DO let me know what you liked - or didn't. (You haven't read either? What are you doing with your time on the Metro? Go buy my books now!) As one of those appliance companies said in their ads, "progress is our principal product." I amused myself by taking a few requests from fans of Board when I completed Ballpark, some of which [one suspects] worked better than others. But I remain open to suggestions from my readers. Gracious, there must be someone you think would serve well as the model for the victim in a murder mystery, but be advised, mere personal dislike is insufficient cause. Actually, no personal animus whatever is involved in anything I have written so far. The question is: what might someone's motive be... if, as I said at the beginning, we lived in an Arlington where a great many people were a great deal wickeder than is the case in real life? Where there was a heavy-footed political machine with a relentless agenda and secrets to keep, an opposition full of characters straight out of Saturday Night Live, the local press positively cowering and... hm, let's not go on.

Do come into my parlor! And have a chat.