Wolfe on Women

"It has been many years since any woman has slept under this roof. Not that I disapprove of them, except when they attempt to function as domestic animals. When they stick to the vocations for which they are best adapted, such as chicanery, sophistry, self-adornment, cajolery, mystification and incubation, they are sometimes splendid creatures."

- Nero Wolfe, The Rubber Band (1936) pg. 94

"Not like women? They are astounding and successful animals."

-Nero Wolfe, Too Many Cooks (1938) p. 107

Wolfe has always seemed remarkable to me. I've been enthralled with the way he views one whole half of the species. There is a second, better example of this train of thought, in a later book. I'm working my way through another rereading, this time meticulously hunting for that quote.

I finally found it but forgot to write down which book, "Orchids were his concubines, insipid, expensive, parasitic and temperamental." I think Archie actually says it, but the thought is the same: Wolfe has flowers so that he can avoid having a woman.

The main impression that you get from Wolfe is that he doesn't hate women, he merely disapproves of their abilities insofar as they interfere with his life. Even his cleaning staff are a troupe of males. I was recently reading Over My Dead Body and it was such an interesting avenue for his disdain to explore. Now that he has a "shapely responsibility" to consider, he doesn't seem to change his thoughts in the slightest. It probably doesn't help that this particular example is a walking example of his prejudices.

In any case, this mentality just fascinated me since it was obviously designed by a man who didn't appear to hate women (Rex Stout). More so, this came about in an era where women were not often seen as capable of anything, certainly not something complicated like mystification. This was such a unique view to have at this point in time, because even though it is clear that Wolfe wants women nowhere near his home, he still respects their inherent danger.

This led me to have a really interesting thought, on the nature of women as Wolfe might see them in the light of the 21st century.

Women are feline by nature. If they are born with domestic inclinations, then they may be quite happy with a domesticated existence, much like the indoor house cat. They might enjoy the freedom of being an outdoor cat, running around before always returning home to familiar surroundings. If they are born feral, you will only get yourself hurt trying to capture them. If they are born wild like a lioness, they can never truly be domesticated. They can have their spirit broken and become even more dangerous. Once you have failed to dominate this apex predator, you can never turn your back on them.

Experience, Guided By Intellegence

I have read the new Nero Wolfe novels, which continued the story after Rex Stout passed away. They are interesting stories, and anyone who loves Wolfe wants him to continue having adventures, but it's just not quite the same.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote Sherlock Holmes, and he was brilliant. Millions of others have borrowed him since Sir Arthur made him public domain, and he remains brilliant. I believe this is because as smart as Holmes was, he was not smart about people. Writing a character that understands humanity and chooses to keep himself insulated through staff, blubber and scheduling requires a passionate love for not only the character but his fellow man as well.

Wolfe is not thorny because he hates, he is thorny because he loves. He often comments that his pounds are insulation against feelings. He must remain aloof because his romantic nature would drive him to ruin, and likely has in the past.

The newer books lack this heart. They are pastiches, wonderful pastiches, and credit is due to anyone who takes up the mantle of a character they did not create, and therefore cannot know intimately. I often think that is why Sherlock is so easy to scribe for. We did know know him well, and thus, he can be the shell for a variety of fillings.

Wolfe does not share that expansiveness. We know him. But we do not know him as well as Rex Stout did. The same problem applies to Archie. New efforts have made Archie sound false. In reading the prequel story, all I could think the entire time was, "No. This is not Archie." I just feel that the Wolfe we read in the new novels is a zombie. The body is there, the actions correct, the schedule maintained, but the heart, the life, is missing.

I hesitate to mention brains so closely after a zombie comment, but I think that's the other problem. Rex Stout was a genius and a chameleon, living many lives during his time on this planet. He could write Wolfe because he knew, intimately, how Wolfe, a difficult genius, would behave. Writing the life of a genius is a difficult task, but writing for a genius that is not your own creation may be impossible. I believe that is why the newer novels focus so heavily on Archie Goodwin, the 'every-man' character. And while Archie is a great foil and narrator, respectfully, he is not why I read Nero Wolfe.

Author's Note:
I want to end with a statement that this is in no way a criticism of the new author that took over the Nero Wolfe novels. I applaud the effort and I am thankful Wolfe is allowed to live on, regardless of how. Please, read these books if you get a chance, they are definitely worth your time. This post was merely trying to explain a certain sadness I felt recently when reading the newer work.

http://ow.ly/U751u

Timeless Characters and First Loves

Something very interesting happens at the beginning of "The League of Frightened Men" by Rex Stout. Archie Goodwin is discussing his inability to read books.

He scans the newspaper, and most days reads it thoroughly. But with books, he finds them to be pointless, "...there's nothing alive about it, it's all dead and gone...". This of course made me wonder how he would feel now, with his character still in print, still being read and loved by millions (or possibly just me?), but still quite vibrant and full of sparks.

I think it's great how you can read any Rex Stout book featuring Nero and Archie, and without much effort, you are instantly transported to a world you feel at home in. Obviously there is an element of nostalgia. But there is more: the feel of the words, pictures they summon, the emotions they create.

The memories are not limited to what's between the pages, but also what's between the lines -  our own memories from previous readings. This got me thinking about the past and the first time I read this particular book.

I remember finding it on my grandparents' attic bookshelf. They weren't big on keeping "popular" books around the house. Often the editions were rare, valuable or collectible. But this one slightly scuffed paperback was resting on a lower shelf, alone, and fairly unimportant looking. Still, it peeked out and seemed to say, "It's alright, I'm not anything fancy, you can pick me up and you won't get in trouble. Give us a try."

I studied the cover and consulted the copyright page. It was from Great Britain, an edition from the 1970's. I made my way downstairs and politely asked my grandmother, "May I please read this? I found it upstairs. It didn't look important, so I thought it might be ok? I'll put it back when I'm done, I promise!"

Taking it from me she smiled at the cover, as if it were a lost friend, rediscovered. She expressed puzzlement that I had found it upstairs. "All of these were moved, I thought. But certainly, go ahead and read it if you like. Now, Oreo or chocolate chip?"

I would later learn the rest had been moved to my grandparents' room so my grandmother could read them while she was recovering from some ailment. This lone text had apparently been separated from its brethren during their migration from attic to bedroom. After explaining that I should deposit it with her when I finished it, she sent me off to the back room with cookies and my discovery.

Unfortunately, the reasons for my being there that day are gone from my mental files, but I know it was raining. That probably explained why I happened to be hunting for something to do or read in the first place.

I know she was babysitting me for some reason, which was unusual. I don't remember how old I was, but given that the cookie stage ran out at my grandparents' house sometime around eight or nine, I must have been a bit younger than that. I recall that I could still fit my entire body into one square cushion of the old, brown, corduroy sofa.

There I sat. I opened the soft paper cover, displayed a slightly yellowing first page, and just like that... my life had irrevocably changed.

Over the course of that plate of cookies and probably three or four hours of reading, I met Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. I had been introduced to Fritz Brenner and his magical cooking skills. I had cautiously greeted Inspector Cramer. I heard about Theodore Horstmann and the ten-thousand orchids. I had been invited into the old Brownstone on West 35th Street in New York City. I had toured the office, the dining room, the kitchen, the front room, the elevator and briefly spied the bedrooms, I had made the acquaintance of dozens of new words such as Odontoglossum and Cattleya and gullery. This was especially fascinating, as I thought I already knew all of the words I would ever need.

By the time I put the book down, dusk had come, the rain had stopped and I was breathless with excitement. I knew that there were more of these books somewhere and now I needed more. I had to know if every book was as beautiful, if every story was - as Wolfe would say - satisfactory. But it was almost dinner time and I would be leaving soon. I handed the book back to my grandmother, who immediately put it with her (unknown to me) treasured collection. My adventure suspended.

Thankfully, the suspension did not last long. The very next day, I went to the library, with my mother as my escort. I was free to choose my selection, as always. I made my way immediately to the S's and scooped up all five of the books they had available. I still didn't know how many there were, but even those five seemed like a bounty.

I was so used to characters that only had one story, or perhaps two. I had read a few serials, but most of the time the library would have one book in a series (the most recent) and little else. When I consulted my mother over my choices, she smiled and said, "I remember reading these." That alone was encouragement enough. If two generations of my family could smile at the covers; the silent recommendation spoke volumes to me.

I read all of them. I had to request books from libraries all over the state. In the days before email, I can only imagine the long distance charges and faxes that had to be exchanged. But it was worth it. In time, I came to own all of the stories; books, anthologies, omnibuses. This was almost two decades ago now, but I still read them.

I have plenty of other things I read, mostly only once or twice. I read new books all the time and I think I have over a thousand ebooks on my Kindle, roughly half of which are still waiting for attention. But never confuse quantity for quality, especially in literature.

There are very few authors that merit re-reading in my world. Neal Stephenson's novels, Night of the Avenging Blowfish by John Welter (which I highly recommend), all of the different Nancy Drew series, Dave Barry, a few others. Most of these I reread once or twice a year, when the mood strikes.

Then there is Rex Stout. Almost without fail, I cycle through over 70 Nero Wolfe short story trios and novels - which takes about a month - in order of publication. I probably do this anywhere from half a dozen to a dozen times a year. I still find words that I don't know occasionally, scenes that I find a deeper meaning in, little flourishes I somehow missed. For what they are, that alone is unexpected and magical. They are just that good.

TL;DR -
What was the first book that had an impact on you?
What was the first book you can remember being attached to?
What was the most important book you read as a child?
What was the book that led you to love reading or writing?

- Hope

Comment here, or on Twitter @nonsteader

I would love to know, and I look forward to hearing from you!!

#TuesdayBluesDay 10.27.15 Dream Lover

What's Playing at the Flamingo?

This week's #TuesdayBluesDay suggestion came from an Tumblr.

Please feel free to include your contact information in your submissions, along with the hashtag #TuesdayBluesDay so I know what it's for!
You can submit them:

Here on the blog as a comment!

On Twitter @nonsteader!

Through fan mail on Tumblr!

Email me at nonsteader@gmail.com!

Artist: Bobby Darin

Song: "Dream Lover"

Released: 1958

Chart: US No. 2

Label: Atlantic Records






http://bit.do/broV3

Happy Birthday Archie Goodwin!

Since this is Girl Week, who could resist ending it with a celebration?

I love celebrating fictional birthdays. Mostly because I don't have to buy any presents.

But this one is special. It's Archie Goodwin's birthday. Wolfe gives him a beautiful bill fold, Cattleya orchids on one side, 52 Colt automatics on the other. Archie would trade it for New York City, if you "threw in a couple of the nicer suburbs". I'm sure Fritz made the best cake ever to celebrate.

This is just another great example of Wolfe taking the time to actually show the appreciation he clearly feels for the work that Archie does. It's a great time for us to appreciate all of the joy we get from reading Nero Wolfe, since without Archie, the books would be rather boring.

So, grab a slice of cake, a Nero Wolfe novel and wish Mr. Goodwin a very happy birthday.

Some Buried Caesar by Rex Stout

I've been rereading Some Buried Caesar today and I found one of my favorite, seminal "Archie" quotes. Since it is Sunday, and technically I don't have anything scheduled, I thought it would be fun to just do a quick graphic and give Archie some long overdue quotation spotlight.

#TuesdayBluesDay 10.6.15 Near You

What's Playing at the Flamingo?

This week's #TuesdayBluesDay suggestion came from my Tumblr fan mail and was unsigned. I can just picture the scene, swaying on a smoky darkened dance floor. This sounds perfect for something that Archie Goodwin might have danced to on a cool night in October of 1947.

I would love to give credit where credit is due, so please feel free to include your contact information in your submissions, along with the hashtag #TuesdayBluesDay so I know what it's for!
You can submit them:

Here on the blog as a comment!

On Twitter @nonsteader!

Through fan mail on Tumblr

Email me at nonsteader@gmail.com!

Artist: The Andrews Sisters

Song: "Near You"

Released: 1947

Chart: US No. 2

Label: Decca Records

If you didn't know...

I have a Tumblr! I'd like to share it with you...
I mostly post Nero Wolfe things, hence the name. Occasionally there are cats, nostalgia, history, Doctor Who, Phryne, whatever strikes my fancy. And I can be very fancy.

Super fancy.

http://atthebrownstone.tumblr.com/

What are you reading?

It's that time of the month again. I have reached the end of the Nero Wolfe books. Now I must begin again. Starting with Fer-De-Lance - the very first Nero Wolfe.

You really should check it out, nothing is better than Wolfe ordering over one hundred golf clubs, which apparently you could have delivered in 1934, and then informing the sales rep that he only wanted to observe one in action, and see the selection. That poor guy...

Lies Gracefully

There are times... when no one says it better than Nero. I can honestly say if I died tomorrow and needed an epitaph, I could not do better than "Lies Gracefully".

As a writer, lying is kind of what we do. The idea that I could be thought of as a graceful liar is entirely pleasing. I think that most writers would think of themselves as "Successful Liars" or "Accomplished Truthstretchers". It's all a matter of perspective. For me, grace has always been something I've cherished. It seemed important somehow, even as a young child that being graceful was a quality I should strive to achieve. On some days, I like to think I even attain that lofty goal.

When it comes to lying, I can't imagine a better way to lie, than "gracefully". Seeing as how it would be on my headstone while I was laid below, the double entendre seems apropos.