Ten years of blogging: An unusual parable

Photograph of Dashiell Hammett
Dashiell Hammett

Previously: The mysterious B. Traven

The year 2015 was more productive than the prior for blogging. I managed to eke out twenty-six blog posts, or about one every two weeks. In the world of blogging this is nothing to crow about. I never intended for this blog to be a daily writing exercise, though. I sought to stretch myself in terms of research and preparation for the longer pieces, and to produce longer work that stood on its own, rather than be impressive in its volume.

It was also an eclectic year. I wrote a piece on Japan’s sakoku (its two-hundred and fifty year period of isolation) and rangaku (literally, “Holland learning”). I had no business writing this. I’m not a domain expert on the subject, and my experience is based solely on some personal research and visiting Dejima, the artificial island in Nagasaki where Dutch traders bought and sold goods until the end of sakoku. 2015 is also the year I started writing about story structure and fiction workshopping, topics I feel more at ease discussing.

Humphrey Bogart holding the Maltese Falcon (film prop).
Humphrey Bogart and “the dingus.” (CC BY-SA 2.0)

By far, the most popular blog post of that year, and for this web site’s existence, is “Dashiell Hammett, The Flitcraft Parable (from The Maltese Falcon).” This long post gave me the chance to air a theory I’d developed on the Flitcraft Parable, a brief tale private eye Sam Spade tells femme fatale Brigid O’Shaughnessy in an early chapter of the infamous detective novel. It’s an odd digression for straight-talking Spade to make, and an odd digression in general, for the novel is a model of brisk narration and economical prose. As I wrote in 2015:

One cannot imagine the Flitcraft Parable finding a place in pulps like Black Mask, magazines that instructed their writers “When in doubt, throw a dead body at ’em.” No gun is leveled, no whiskey is poured, no dame is saved. In The Maltese Falcon Dashiell Hammett crafted the most iconic private detective novel ever, the singular representation of an entire form, and yet in it he wrote the most unorthodox story of detection ever.

And that is an important point about the Flitcraft Parable, for it is a story about a rather simple bit of detection Spade was hired to perform many years prior to the events of Falcon. There’s not of a lot of chin-scratching in the parable itself. Rather, the chin-scratching comes later, as Spade attempts to explain what it all means, while O’Shaughnessy characteristically shrugs off its significance.

Like the parables of Christ and the Buddha, the Flitcraft Parable’s shape and ending is ambiguous, and its meaning elusive. Even the reason for Spade telling the parable is debated. I won’t cover it all here, it’s best explained by my post.

By far, the most substantial criticism I received for it was that I’d over-thought my reasoning, and that there was no proof Hammett knew of Charles Sanders Peirce’s work (which I think unlikely). I posted a follow-up in November 2015 giving an alternate, but related, explanation of the parable.

Twenty Writers: Dashiell Hammett, The Flitcraft Parable (from The Maltese Falcon)

Soundtrack for “According to Cain” now on Spotify

Cover image for "According to Cain" by Jim Nelson

My interactive fiction According to Cain includes a soundtrack, twelve songs tailored to play at key times as the game’s story unfolds. Unfortunately, the only way to hear that music is to play it using an appropriate interpreter (in this case, QTads).

I’ve been putting it off for a year now, but have now made the score available outside of game play. The According to Cain soundtrack on Spotify now allows you to hear all the music incorporated in the original interactive fiction. I’ve constructed the playlist to correspond roughly with the progression of the story line.

The soundtrack comprises music from two brilliant artists: Serge Quadrado, whose Arabia-inspired pieces provide much authenticity in terms of instrumentation and fidelity to sources, and Kevin MacLeod, the “Internet’s composer” who has given us a tremendous amount of Creative Commons music usable by just about anyone who needs it.

Enjoy!

According to Cain in the 2022 XYZZY Awards

Cover image for "According to Cain" by Jim Nelson

Yesterday, the 2022 XYZZY final awards were announced.

If you don’t know, the XYZZY Awards are given yearly for interactive fiction. They’re sometimes called the Academy Awards for interactive fiction.

I was blown away to learn that According to Cain won Best Game and Best Implementation for 2022. Cain was also nominated for Best Writing, Best Story, and Best Puzzles.

This caps off a big year for Cain, which placed sixth in the Interactive Fiction Competition, won Outstanding Game of the Year (Player’s Choice) and Outstanding Game Over Two Hours in the IFDB Awards, and was selected for the 2023 Interactive Fiction Top 50.

I’m floored. In 1999, when I first became aware of the interactive fiction community, I wondered if I could write a title that could win the IF Comp or the XYZZY Award.

To place sixth in the IF Comp was more than I could have asked for. (I was happy to make the top twenty.) To win Best Game for the XYZZY Award is, in some ways, a fulfillment of a twenty-four year personal goal.

A Man Named Baskerville now on NetGalley

If you’re a NetGalley member, my Sherlock Holmes-inspired novel A Man Named Baskerville is now available for download and review.

Baskerville is my take on the Arthur Conan Doyle classic. Told as a journal penned by the original’s villain, it relates his life story from a pauper’s childhood in the Empire of Brazil to life on the run in Panama and Costa Rica. He lands in England determined to confront his family and claim his place at Baskerville Hall. All the while, he lays out his plan to settle a score with Holmes and Watson, whom have taken him for dead after their confrontation on the bogs of Dartmoor.

A review copy of the novel is available to NetGalley members upon request. Please note, I’m currently seeking NetGalley members who actively review and crosspost to other sites (Goodreads, Amazon, book blogs, etc.)

For more information, go to the A Man Named Baskerville page on NetGalley.

Availability on NetGalley ends February 6th. Of course, A Man Named Baskerville is always available on Amazon.

Ten years of blogging: The mysterious B. Traven

T. Torsvan, 1926. This photo was taken in Mexico without his knowledge. It’s widely assumed this is B. Traven.

This blog launched on the first of August, 2014. It was not a big year blog-wise, but I still managed to put out eleven posts (one of which I’ll return to later this year). Worried I would run out of ideas, I devised “Twenty Writers, Twenty Books,” a series where I discuss the books and authors that have left a deep impression on me. (So far, I’ve only managed to finish twelve of the twenty writers. To look at it another way, this writing project is still generating blog posts ten years later.)

Those last months of 2014, my focus was fixed on the finishing edits of Edward Teller Dreams of Barbecuing People, the first book I put out under Kindle Direct Publishing. The novel’s opening line (“The Petrenkos were barbecuing people”) was first typed by me in 1999. After fifteen years, countless drafts and rewrites, and a couple of near-misses with agents who were interested but couldn’t get behind the book, I gave up trying to find it a home. I even considered giving up on writing altogether. Thankfully, I reconsidered, put it on Amazon, and began working on my next novel. (The whole tortured history can be found at The Tusk.)

But my favorite blog post from that first year is without question “B. Traven, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre,” the first entry in my Twenty Writers series. Oddly, it’s one of the newer books on the list, in the sense that I had read it only a few years’ before (whereas most of the other books on the list I first read earlier in life). The book made an indelible mark on me. It made me think about why an author writes a book, not merely how—but I was doubly fascinated by the mystery surrounding the identity of its author.

It turns out that while the book and John Huston’s movie are incredibly well-known, the true identity of the author has been largely shrouded in mystery to this day.

Hal Croves, 1947. Taken while on the set of John Huston’s adaptation of The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Humphrey Bogart speculated Croves was actually B. Traven.

I love a good literary mystery, and the mystery of B. Traven is one of the best of the 20th century. While researching the blog post, I read numerous online sources and articles, two books on the subject, and even scouring old editions of Treasure, including the rather optimistic (and rather incorrect) introduction to a 1963 Time-Life edition which declared the matter of his identity settled.

One notable outcome of the blog post was former Chief Executive of BBC Broadcast Will Wyatt reaching out to me via email in 2015. Wyatt wrote and developed the BBC documentary B. Traven: A Mystery Solved and its companion book The Man Who was B. Traven, titled The Secret of the Sierra Madre in the United States. (A transfer of the BBC show can be found on YouTube.) Wyatt’s gracious email pointed out that no one to date has refuted his theory of Traven’s identity. By utter coincidence, I had just weeks earlier discovered a copy of the UK edition in one of the last great used bookstores, Phoenix Books of San Luis Obispo. (I’ve long intended to write a post about The Man Who was B. Traven, but never followed through.)

Coincidentally, as I was writing this post in late December, Wyatt again reached out to me via public comment. He once more defended his work, but also challenged the other theories of Traven’s identity, most of which are based on speculation or hunches. Due to his comment, I’m updating the 2014 post to better explain Wyatt’s research, which was previously only alluded to briefly.

As I replied to him:

Perhaps not reading your book first was a mistake on my part, but I, a mere fan of Traven’s books, and writer of the occasional novel that does not sell in high volume, did not intend [the 2014] post to be the final word on Traven’s identity.

Rather, this post was intended to cover the breadth of the theories out there, farfetched or otherwise, and to give a general feel for Traven’s most likely background. I also wanted to explain why I find so much inspiration in Traven’s works, especially “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.”

Alas, all this came too late for the original 2014 post, which relies on Michael L. Baumann’s B. Traven: An Introduction (1976). Baumann treats the question of Traven’s identity as a literary mystery, which lines up with my interests in the subject. As a German-speaking German-American, Baumann discerns that Traven’s work was most likely written in that language and then crudely translated to English for an American audience. He also offers a clear-eyed interpretation of the themes and political bent of Traven’s novels.

Since I wasn’t interested in proposing a candidate or “solving” the mystery, Baumann was a good primary source to work from. I only wish I could have delved more deeply into the breadth of the Traven theories proposed to date. The tornadic multiplicity of names and initials and pseudonyms linked to Traven is bewildering, fostered by Traven’s generous use of them to cover his tracks.

My fascination is not to keep the mystery alive, but to turn the mystery around and face the mirror at the reader, to give a name to the insatiable curiosity Traven inspired—to remind us there was a time when authors shunned publicity (“the creative person should…have no other biography than his works”) rather than relentlessly strove to build their personal brand.

Twenty Writers: B. Traven, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

Ten years of blogging

The Bridge Daughter Cycle covers

True story: I started blogging before the word “blog” was coined. In 1995, I created a web site known as Ad Nauseam, where I sporadically vented about the software industry, Silicon Valley, and the rise of the World Wide Web. Like most blogging efforts, I ran out of steam after a few years, and set it aside.

In 2014, I returned to blogging. I told myself this new blog would be different. I wanted a web site to showcase my books, sure, but I also wanted to blog with a focus on writing, literature, and film. I also strove for a softer, more positive tone. No ranting, no finger-pointing (although I do get my hackles up now and then). I’d rather write on things I’m passionate and positive about, under the assumption that there are others out there with similar passions.

Over the next year, I will feature one or two blog posts a month from the past decade that I think shine a little brighter than the rest. The first look back will come in January.

I won’t say this blog has been a smashing success, but after ten years of chugging away at it, it’s in a good place. I’ve put out over two hundred blog posts, with over 100,000 views since I began tracking them in 2015. I’ll discuss more milestones and notable high points (and low points) as the year progresses.

Looking forward to seeing you in 2024. Happy holidays.

The other meaning of “A Charlie Brown Christmas”

Charlie Brown and Linus at the Christmas tree lot.  From "A Charlie Brown Christmas."

Last night, I saw a live performance of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” at the San Francisco Symphony. One of the people I went with had never seen the original television cartoon—yes, it’s true.

Afterwards, she asked a simple question: “Why did Charlie Brown pick such a bad tree for Christmas?”

As we walked, we talked a bit about Linus’ speech at the end, and how the story asks about the “true” meaning of Christmas. This was all fine, but it merely danced around her question of the tree.

What I said next sprung from me. It wasn’t something I formulated or ever considered before:

“Charlie Brown recognizes something familiar in the tree. It’s been overlooked and doesn’t seem to have much to offer anyone, which is what he’s experienced in life. At the end, the other kids see the beauty in the tree, and in decorating it they’re appreciating Charlie Brown too.”

I don’t claim this is a deep insight, or even an original one, but it came to me all at once. I watched the TV show as a child in the 1970s, and rewatched it countless times over the years, and yet I’m still finding meaning in this Christmas tale.

Merry Christmas, everyone.