In my commitment to STEMPHLA (the combination of STEM plus Philosophy, History, Language and Arts) in engineering, I have blogged on non-fiction books that messed with my head, great nautical books, and my Literature PhD thesis proposal on maritime and the modern novel. However, books don’t have to be maritime non-fiction to leave a lasting impression. Occasionally I have read novels and short fiction stories that were not specifically maritime that also stuck a little longer and harder in my mind.
This is a list of random fiction that messed with my head.
The Bob Evers series of books by Willy van der Heide.
These were Dutch young adult books in the vein of the Hardy boys, but not really. They were more a mix of Hardy Boys and Ian Fleming novels (without the sex), a course in game theory, and occasionally were very funny. The first book was published in 1947 and over 30 more followed especially before 1966. All my friends in Holland loved these books and we collected and exchanged them whenever we got our hands on them. We were interested in them because the stories described the actual weapons, cars and countries involved. The solution to problems were often deeply technical and the characters often discussed complex decision issues. To this day I know that certain decision approaches were first introduced to me in a Bob Evers novel. Some of the cars described in the novels turned out to be cars that actually did became classics and I will admit that to this day I have a preference for Chrysler designs because of these novels. Although, I really pine for a custom desert sand colored four seat convertible Lincoln Zephyr that featured in a few of the novels.
I once mentioned that I loved these books to a librarian who dismissed these books as lacking character development with too many plot coincidences. But we did not read them for that; we read them for the sense of adventure and they were superb in that regard.
Many of the novels discussed specific cultures all over the world, and when I arrived in the United States I found that the author had described US culture with incredible insight.
It is weird to think that these books taught me how to evaluate the psychological use of handguns in a long range fire fight, what to look for in a second hand car, how to walk better in loose sand, when to talk and when to shut up, how to get a car wheel out of a hole, etc, etc.
Today the whole series carries a stain, because it turned out the author had been a Nazi collaborator, and the popularity of series collapsed once that became known. In none of the novels is there a hint of fascism and quite frankly they are quite embroiled in post World War II optimism. What little I know of the author would indicate to me he was an immoral opportunist with a very keen observational eye and a very gifted storyteller. Strange to think that a person like that undoubtedly made thousands of Dutch boys just a little smarter.
James Bond Novels and Short Stories by Ian Fleming.
While reading Bob Evers novels, we also read Ian Fleming novels translated into Dutch. As novels they made less of an impression on me than the Bob Evers novels, but the novels were the foundation of a cultural phenomenon that spread around the world and provides a touchstone no matter who you talk to. Ironically most people think of James Bond as the character in the movies. Since I also read all the novels, I know that the whole issue is more complicated.
Few people are aware that the “Spy Who Loved Me” was entirely written from a female character’s point of view and James Bond only shows up in the last few pages. That Bond novel was considered to be a failure when it was published, and I do think it is one of the weaker novels, but the action mostly occurs in a seasonal Adirondack motel. My wife’s family has a camp in the Adirondacks and only a few miles away there is a traditional seasonal motel that never fails to make me think of James Bond.
James Bond is ultimately silly, and thereby becomes harmless fun. But Bond has messed with my head. Whenever I wear a tuxedo or a kilt, I will say: “Bond, James Bond”, into the mirror before I join the party. I am sure I am not the only one. Since Bond drinks Smirnoff vodka in the early Bond movies, I disdain vodka snobs. If Smirnoff is good enough for Bond, it is good enough for me.
Uncle Dad books (Hatari!)
I had an uncle who we addressed as “Uncle Dad”. His real name was Johan Swankhuisen. He was a tall dude who was in the finals for the selection of the Dutch contender in the triple jump in the 1928 Olympics in Amsterdam. After placing, a photographer asked him to make another jump for a newspaper photo. He made the jump and busted his knee and was out of the running. He married my Mom’s sister Lenie, and we saw them often. Because he was tall, he got the nickname Daddy Longlegs, which was abbreviated to Dad, which in turn resulted in the kids addressing him as Uncle Dad.
As Dutch kids we never thought twice about the strange name. He was a station chief at a medium sized railroad station in North Holland and they had a supercool apartment above the station where I occasionally stayed for a week or so when I was quite young. He knew I liked to read the moment I learned to read, and he would supply me with incredibly random books, but always had me pegged. I devoured all of the books he gave me and picked up something from each book. One of them was called Hatari! It was the paperback novelized version of the John Wayne movie of the same name and contained some action shots of the movie. The story itself was only marginally interesting, but the descriptions of live animal capture were quite good and was just an example of the many random subjects Uncle Dad’s books introduced me to.
Uncle Dad died at age 92. He was hit by a truck while riding his bicycle. Two years before that, he hosted my wife on a little day trip while I was on business in Holland. I have never ever seen Anne, who is quite tough herself, so exhausted at the end of the day.
The soft cover book traveled with me over the years. A few years ago, I came across it and I finally watched the movie (not terrible but mostly fluff) and then returned the book to Uncle Dad’s daughter. It belonged there, since no one here reads Dutch.
Some of the next stories are science fiction stories, which is ironic because before I moved to the United States, I thought of science fiction as silly. After coming to the United States, I spent my senior year in Red Bank Regional High School. The first semester I was in a regular English class taught by Mr. Falk. I faked my way through it with a C. The next semester, the friends I had made told me to sign up for Mr. Woodrow Sullivan’s science fiction class. I had no interest in science fiction, but because most of my friends had signed up, I joined them. The class was a revelation. Overnight it made me a science fiction fan for life and also a huge fan of short stories.
The Star by Arthur C. Clarke
This is a short story, not the novel by the same author. It deals with faith. Even though the story is quite simple, it taught me to examine religions and faith. A course of investigation that continues to this day but never progressed much in clarity beyond the point in the story.
The Forever War by Joe Haldeman
This book was suggested to me by a colleague, Brett Montaruli, when I was working at ABS in the early eighties. Undoubtedly, Brett enjoyed the story, which is why he recommended it, but it had a more powerful effect on me. The story is an antiwar story in the vein of Catch 22, but what really impressed me was the underlying love story. I came to realize that I like certain types of love stories. Generally, they are love stories that are the result of a mutual quest, where the characters function as equals. Reading The Forever War made me realize why I like Casablanca so much but often have to swallow back a little vomit in the back of my mouth with more conventional love stories.
Patriotism by Yukio Mishima
I think I came across this story in a university English class. I don’t actually like the story, but it was so vivid and realistic that it never left me. The story is about an honor dilemma and the only solution to it from a traditional Japanese perspective. A deeper analysis of the story makes me think it has many flaws, but it has just never left me, and influenced my later interest in game theory and decision making. To a large extent it is also a love story and of the kind that makes me swallow back a little vomit. In the department of weird authors, Yukio Mishima actually copied his own fictional story by committing seppuku a few years later. A brilliant author contained within a lunatic.
The Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
I read the Heart of Darkness after Apocalypse Now was released. I had not actually seen the movie yet but was curious about the reference to Heart of Darkness. I think before I read Heart of Darkness, I never paid much attention to truly high quality writing. Conrad became my touchstone for great writing, both as far as story telling is concerned and as far as great style is concerned. In addition, he also made me realize that great writing can also be social commentary.
The Riddle of the Sands by Erskine Childers
Somebody handed me this book as an example of great sailing writing. I liked it, but did not love it. Riddles of the Sands just is not the Heart of Darkness, but the version I read had a foreword that drew attention to the author. And that dragged me down an entirely different rabbit hole. Authors and their stories are always connected. Erskine Childers was the real story of this book, the polar opposite of Mishima and van der Heide. Childers was an author who rose above the book he wrote.
The Moon is Down by John Steinbeck
I think John Steinbeck is one of the most overrated authors out there. Even his short stories drag on forever and generally his characters are sappy drivel. I often engaged in discussions of my point of view with Steinbeck admirers until somebody said: “What about the Moon is Down?”
I was not aware of that novel so I read it. To me, it is undoubtedly Steinbeck’s best and actually quite an interesting read. But that is only a tiny piece of the story. The real story is how the book came to be. Its inception as a piece of war time propaganda, its remarkable polarity in reviews, and the crazy proof in the pudding with its intended audience; occupied Europe. The life of the actual book is the real story, and proof that we just don’t know anything looking in from the outside. The Moon is Down is Steinbeck’s single moment of greatness, as an author and as a human.
The Willows by Algernon Blackwood
This is the most recent addition to fiction that messed with my head. The story was recommended to me by my daughter Abby. It is hard to classify the story. Blackwood was a ghost story writer, which would not interest me at all. However, The Willows is so slippery in its discussion of ghostly issues that in the end it might not be a ghost story at all, but rather a description of a human’s experience in nature.
Those who spend time in nature might know that certain camping spots feel welcome and friendly while other spots feel alien and uncomfortable for no clear reason. As a camper you try to shake those feelings off. Blackwood brilliantly expands on those feelings in The Willows, and maybe it is better not to read it if you like to camp in the wild.
If you do decide to read the story make sure you do not read the version edited by Ruthanne Emrys. The editor’s comments are so pointless that reading them actually ruins the story.
In looking at this list, I realize that I value great writing but will forgive not so great writing for a great story that thinks askew.
There is one more story that continues to mess with my head. I have revisited it a number of times, although I only read it once in Mr. Sullivan’s science fiction class. I think the story was called Narwal, but I am not certain of that. I have no idea who the author was, but I remember the story. It just stuck with me. It described a world stuck in an ice age where society had devolved and there was a princess who declared that she would marry the man who brought her the tooth of the narwal. A crowd of young princes, all initially friends, take off in their iceboats to run north to search for the narwal. There were no rules, and they started eliminating each other. In the end only one man brings back the tooth of the narwal and kills the princess with it.
It wasn’t a brilliant story, but there were some scenery descriptions of the iceboats running north that I connected with. It painted a powerful picture that I would love to have seen in a movie and see vividly to this day.
I have tried to locate the story many times. I use it as a test of the power of the internet. I put in search terms to see if anything comes up, but nothing so far. Not everything interesting exists on the internet.
