Coming to Terms with the Audiobook
Don Winslow was the final straw.
I am not sure that trends are a healthy manifestation of my reading life only because, once I notice a trend, it too often fades away. In the case of audiobooks, however, I must make an exception. In the last couple of years, I have dipped into the “listening” world but it always felt like a guilty pleasure. It still does. That may be a mistake on my part. The oral tradition predates the written and certainly the published worlds. Whenever I read a terrific passage, I want to read it out loud. Reading out loud was an integral part of my lit classroom and I love hearing authors read their materials to audiences at the Sun Valley Writer’s Conference. So many people I admire listen to Audible or another such platform and love it. Why the guilt? Maybe because it doesn’t feel right finishing a book without a book to put on the shelf. I solve this by buying the physical book after listening to it so I can put it on my shelf. Still, it doesn’t feel right. There are no notes, thumb stains, phone numbers or whatever versions of marginalia that particular book attracted at that particular time. In the end, I will do what I have done with all of technological change – accommodate despite deep reservations. The following two books were absolutely terrific to “listen” to though each time there was a noteworthy passage, I missed having a pen in hand to jot in the margin any one of my host of notations. That jot feels like both an acknowledgement of sorts to the writer and an illusory effort to remember that passage or fact or insight. Illusory because no matter the material, the vast majority of my enthusiastic margin jots evaporate within weeks of reading. Does this suggest that listening might be a less pretentious approach? Certainly, with Middlemarch, thanks to a brilliant reader, the Audible version showed me how much I was missing while I waded through Eliot’s often convoluted and dense text. The experiment and conversation (see below) continues … meanwhile, the following books are read wonderfully and are the stuff for gardening, long walks, airport delays and dinner preparation.
Despite my guarded commitment to my “listening” experiment, I did, in the end, regret not reading The Infernal Machine. I listened to it over several lovely June days in South Pasadena, gardening and fussing around the property before the heat of summer set in. If I had read this book, it would have been filled with my marginalia, in particular my DNKT acronym for “Did Not Know This”. It is a startling bit of history written concisely and almost joyously. The topic is far from joyous … the discovery of dynamite by our old friend Nobel, the rise of the modern terrorist empowered by the easily employed sticks (said ‘infernal machines’), the rise of modern detectives, federal and secret police, and our future CSI world. Wow … it really is a wild ride with several bumpy transitions and connections. Johnson creates, however, a narrative that is effortlessly accessible - a narrative that makes history thrilling and revealing. Johnson rightly reminds us of the least discussed of our violent national episodes – the brutal labor battles that came with industrialization and how much the “system” gave a pass to unbridled violence by the robber barons of the time. A reality in America that would only come to an end (of sorts) with the Great Depression and FDR. A reality of violent suppression that created, like serfdom in Russia and textile mills in Britain, the perfect platform for revolutionary ideology armed with homemade bombs. Johnson’s discussion of the rise of the 19th century anarchist movement was a continuous DNKT. Finger printing, filing, Siberia, Alexander the First, and bombs everywhere are all part of a truly original historical narrative where, as it unfolds, you become all too aware of its evolution into our modern TSA world. Johnson’s entertaining tale has a serious origin myth feel to it and I am very grateful that he wrote it … and then read it.
The Infernal Machine (Audiobook)
A True Story of Dynamite, Terror & the Rise of the Modern Detective
By Steven Johnson
(read by Steven Johnson)
2024 368 pages
Don Winslow’s City in Ruins is the last of a mob trilogy that begins in Providence and ends in Las Vegas. Just what the world needs … another mob novel. I started reading the book after so many enthusiastic reviews and stopped immediately. Winslow’s writing has that firecracker structure and voice that James Elroy made famous. It is a simpler version and thus reads a bit more like a screenplay than a barely punctuated primal scream. For reasons not entirely clear to me, I tried it on Audible. Three days later I had finished it. I cooked, gardened, shopped, exercised, and drove with it. It was a blast. Fliakos is an extraordinary reader whose best and most original voices are reserved for the mob women! Our oldest daughter is a serious audiobook fan and I suggested she listen to the first novel, City on Fire. Eight days later, she had listened to all THREE. They should be listened to in order though I just finished the first after beginning with the third and it worked. How did it work? Though I remain firmly attached to the written and read word, the audiobook has shown me the power of the written and spoken word. After revisiting parts of the written version of City in Ruins, I had to admit to the immediacy and intimacy that Fliakos brought to his reading. The trade off between the two mediums appears to be that of the discipline required to create real literary art, a discipline that must be read to be fully appreciated, versus the effect that literary art creates when projected theatrically in a way your internal reading voice is not equipped or prepared to do. They exist as separate acts of appreciation. Maybe a 21st century book must toggle both directions depending on the reader’s bias and intent. Maybe in today’s chaotic choice of mediums, a book’s greatness may be measured by its ability to straddle all mediums: written, spoken, and, even, visual … maybe.
On a final City in Ruins note, there is nothing original or particularly literary in either this trilogy or Winslow’s style. It doesn’t matter. What Bourne is to film, this trilogy and Winslow is to fiction – particularly, in my case, with audiobooks. It is “The Godfather” ultra-light and, maybe, the real question is - why is arguably our greatest American film (and its equally great sequel) about the mob? Certainly, many would agree that “The Sopranos” is and will likely remain the gold standard of tv series. What is at the heart of our deep love affair with an organization built around theft, corruption, death, and violence? I suspect the answer is not far removed from our current enthusiasm to reelect a convicted felon, molester, tax cheat and serial liar. Americans enjoy, in fact, revere their criminals. Over 20,000 people attended the respective funerals of the mass murdering Bonnie & Clyde. You root for Winslow’s characters as they marry, have kids, stick with their friends, steal, lie and murder. We root for underdogs and villains but pay our taxes, don’t litter, pull over for ambulances and stand for and sing our national anthem. Maybe there is a crook inside the whole American Dream schtick that we are only too aware of. While we stole a continent, enslaved millions, firebombed cities, defoliated jungles and got the world addicted to easy money, fast food and on-line sex we also made it safer to be different and much more fun to be alive. When I finished with the bedlam that is City in Ruins, I chopped vegetables, mixed a cocktail, and had a lovely dinner with my wife in our comfortable home, on our wonderful street in our still shockingly safe and secure (yes … it is) country. Go figure …
City in Ruins (Audiobook)
By Don Winslow
(read by Ari Fliakos)
2024 400 pages
