Some Mario Puzo Novels

Mario Puzo is famously known for his novel, The Godfather. I’ve read the book three times. It is definitely among his best. However, another book of his that I found to be very good and more insightful was The Fortunate Pilgrim. This is another immigrant tale, albeit one that is much shorter. It takes place in New York City and features all the characters you might expect including a woman named Lucia Santa. Every one of them is well drawn, each with their motivations, flaws, and virtues.

And then there is Fools Die. Fools Die is a story not only about Las Vegas, but about human nature. (I’ve also read this book three times.) One of the most fascinating characters in the book is named Gronevelt and he owns the Xanadu Casino. He’s as much an archetype as Don Corleone, but with a more mathematical sensibility that he applies not only to the returns on his gaming tables, but also to the people around him. Gronevelt knows that people will try to steal from his casino, that they will attempt scams, that they think they can somehow beat the house. All the while, the percentage is against them, not to mention a keen observer of human behavior like Gronevelt who can be on the merciless side. Thus, fools die, literally and figuratively.

Still, there is more to this book than simple casino derring-do and big-shot hustling. The book takes some wild tangents to follow a budding novelist, a wacky prize-winning author, and some other minor characters. If you’ve read The Godfather, you’ll remember that the book followed Johnny Fontain to Hollywood along with his hard drinking neighborhood upstart friend. Some people complain about this type of diversion in a book. I actually enjoy them, especially when a writer like Puzo keeps the characters and plot interesting to the point where you don’t realize how far off the main highway you’ve gone until you’re on your way back.

Too many novels I’ve read of late are too short, too bland, and too simple so as to leave me wondering what, exactly, was the story. Mario Puzo never takes the short or the easy road in the novels I mention above. He drags the story up a hill and the climb is not only worth it but also leaves you with a view you never forget. The finely tuned power of Don Corleone, the ruthless calculating mind of Gronevelt, or the perseverance of Lucia Santa, all deliver the reader to a place they will never forget.

So, if you haven’t checked out these Mario Puzo novels lately, I highly recommend a visit. You won’t be disappointed. As for his other books, well, they’re not on my list of favorites.

Published in: on August 16, 2008 at 10:04 pm  Leave a Comment  
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An Island Away, Excerpt 5

Captain Upton’s voice filled his head. “Keep a firm hand on the wheel, or some mother’s son will turn it for you.”

An Island Away is the story of three people who have to figure out what they want, what they want from each other, and how they’re going to get it. Set in the refinery town of San Nicolaas, Aruba, this tale of flexible morality takes a hard look at the other side of paradise. It is available at Amazon.com, BN.com, as well as many bookstores and gift shops in Aruba.

Published in: on August 12, 2008 at 12:14 pm  Comments (1)  
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Details from the Cemetery

My writing is heavy on details. I put my words together with a fine brush, filling in all the nooks and crannies. (My editor constantly reminds me not to tell EVERYTHING.) This is a strange phenomenon for me because when I was heavy into photography, my images were large, sweeping vistas taken with wide angle lenses. This may go back to film school, where they taught me always to have an establishing shot to place the viewer in the location. Then, go in close for the minutia that is relevant to the story. Well, here in Aruba, I came across this old cemetery, which as the sign says, was for Jewish Portuguese people. Have a look.

The place is quite old by any standard, especially for the Caribbean whose history is often swept away by hurricanes and changes in government. By my count, there were only seven graves inside the walls. The largest one in the rear features a Divi tree growing up through it.

However, the detail that struck me most was among the arch-covered graves in the center row. It’s the small one on the right. Someone’s child didn’t survive and ended up here next to his elders. Wow, that’s all the detail I need to make this place interesting and the stuff of a story. Of course, graveyards are a no-brainer, and not just for mysteries. You’ll find all kinds of things that represent both the living and the dead, the beliefs or lack there-of held by those interred as well as the visitors still alive.

It strikes me when I see people leaving things behind for those who’ve passed away. I suppose it’s a soothing notion, a comfort to remember and contemplate. It must be part of the human condition because the activity goes back into pre-history. Certainly the Egyptians reached an all-time high with their temples to the dead that were staffed by priests and kept flourishing for years after a Pharaoh or other significant person died. Then again, details can be striking and a single person with a single flower is more powerful than a priestly retinue in a smoky temple. At least, in my way of telling stories it is.

Published in: on August 10, 2008 at 10:56 am  Leave a Comment  
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Beginning at the End

I keep a collection of short stories titled, A Rusting Sea. These were born (many years back) out of my frustration with not finishing a novel. I thought I would be satisfied creatively by completing a shorter work, sitting back, and thinking, “Well, there it is, the whole thing.” This worked for about six months, during which time I wrote eight stories varying in length from about 10 to 80 pages. Strangely enough, the ending of each story came to me first. I had the end in mind, then tripped back to the beginning and plotted a course to that destination.

Thus, Captain Quincy’s Near Death Experience (which was the second one I wrote) comes to mind just now because I’m here on the island of Aruba. Captain Quincy, a lifelong mariner, decides he’s had enough of retirement and wants to depart this earth before he becomes a decrepit old codger. He spends a couple of days doling out his considerable wealth and through this convention you learn the history of his life. Of course, his cat distracts him throughout this process, ultimately causing Quincy to head back to sea one more time. And here’s how the story ends…

…So Captain Quincy and his cat, Gimlet, hustled down the track on their way to the port.

Attorney Mickleson, that is the son of the Mickleson who defended Quincy in the Turkish courts, found Captain Quincy’s letters and log books on the desk where they had been left. This was some months later, after Mickleson tried more than thirty different times to reach the captain. He went to the house with a police escort to open the door. The door was not locked, and nothing in the house was disturbed. Nothing indicated foul play. The police determined Captain Quincy had gone missing of his own accord despite the odd circumstances. Mickleson sent the letters off to their intended recipients and used the remaining money to maintain Quincy’s home in the off chance he returned.

No one heard from Quincy again. No one claims to know what happened to him. Mickleson ultimately settled the estate, took a reasonable fee, and contributed the balance to a range of charities.

However, on the island of Aruba, in the village of Saveneta, fitted tightly in the dirt beneath a Divi tree, stands a small headstone. The stone reads, “Gimlet,” and beneath the name, “A small world, big enough for me.”

END.

IT WAS that last paragraph that came to me one day while I was looking out the window of a rental bungalow here in Aruba. The rest of the story came later. Would you like to read the rest? Let me know.

Published in: on July 30, 2008 at 12:13 pm  Comments (1)  
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