Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 5/11

Jon has purchased both Close to the Edge and Killing from me, so when he published a novel through Book Locker I gladly ordered it when it became available at Amazon. I just finished The Man with the Silver Skull Ring, part one of Paradise Lost. I enjoyed it, although it could stand some tweaking. It is more well-written than most self-published books, but not as strong as it could have been. I'm sure I could have eliminated a couple of thousand words from it in places where there is repetition or a bit of overkill. Most readers might not even notice the excesses. Jon, pseudonym Ole Romer, did everything but the cover himself. The story is told from a libertarian point of view, that is, leave people alone to pursue happiness, including vices such as drugs and prostitution. It is an argument for legalization of them, also for the elimination of gun control. Given the fact that a staunch conservative pundit like George Will recently wrote two columns on the futility of the war on drugs, the book couldn't have been more timely. This war has been a costly, abysmal failure that enriches thugs. It is Jon's opinion that legalization is a far better alternative. The hero of the novel owns an island where unadulterated drugs are available in exchange for work, and treatment is available to anyone who tires of usage. If such a measure were undertaken on a national scale, would it be better than what we have now? I'm not sure, but I do believe it would be more cost effective, although one despairs at the thought of a government agency handling it. The potential dangers are two-fold as far as I can see. Addiction would undoubtedly increase. The unknown factor is what something like this would do to our country's character. Behavioral boundaries have been receding since the late '60's. Would they recede even further? And there are always dastardly unintended consequences that few foresee. Think of all the damage the abuse of alcohol does. Would it be any different if drugs were legalized? It's a great argument. If not for my complete lack of faith in bureaucrats, I would definitely be in favor of legalization. Regardless, it may be an idea whose time has come.
What I enjoyed most about the novel is the background of the characters, even though in some instances it is rendered late in the narrative. The aspect I did not like was the buffoonish nature of the politicians. The President and Vice-President are obviously modeled after Bill Clinton and Dick Cheney, the former simply sleazy, the latter downright evil, a dealer who wants drugs to remain illegal so that he can continue to enrich himself. I admire Cheney, moreso since a Bill O'Reilly editorial on the charitable donations of politicians. One year, the former VP donated a stunning 77% of his earnings, something like six million dollars. Given my regard for him, I had to grin and bear the portrayal in the book.
When Jon first told me his novel was an indictment of the war on drugs, I suggested he send it to All Things That Matter Press, which published my short story collection, A Hitch in Twilight. It seemed the type of radical politics that small house supports. I was puzzled as to why Jon never received a response from them. Perhaps it was because of the depiction of those two men and its overall cynicism, which dwarfs even Martin Scorsese's. Jon went light years beyond where I went with Clinton in Killing. I did not use a pseudonym because it would have been obvious who it was, and he remains only on the fringe of the novel, as seen from the point of view of the protagonist. He has no dialogue, although he is giving a speech in the background in the next to last chapter. The Man with the Silver Skull Ring is completely uncompromising, hardcore, true to the vile nature of some of the characters, for mature audiences only. I'm not sure if it was a mistake to divide the book in two. Only time will tell. I will definitely purchase the second. The first is as good as most of the thrillers I've sampled the past few years. On a scale of five, three.
A middle aged gentleman paused at the floating book shop today, drawn by a Russian physics text book, which he claimed was outdated. I'd noticed that it wasn't fiction, but hadn't taken the time to try to figure out its subject. I thanked him and resolved to leave it in the lobby of my building in case anyone should want it. An hour later another gentleman spotted it, began waxing nostalgic, and overpaid for it, thanking me profusely. Weird how stuff like that happens. Spasibo, sir, and to everyone else who purchased books today.

Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 5/10

I caught up to The Ides of March (2011), courtesy of Netflix. It is well worthwhile. George Clooney wore many hats during its production: Producer, Director, Co-Writer and Co-star. He does his usual smooth work, perfectly cast as an ultra-liberal Democrat vying for presidential nomination. The character expresses the views Clooney has so often in interviews, more honestly than President Obama does. After all, there are no consequences to what an actor on script says beyond the parameters of the movie. Ryan Gosling stars as a dedicated campaign worker immersed in the filthy, back-stabbing, cold world of politics. It conforms to my opinion of the people in the field, either side of the aisle, although I believe the right does less damage to us than the left. These liberals are not portrayed in a flattering light, and that honesty is commendable. The supporting cast is first-rate. Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti, Marisa Tomei and Evan Rachel Wood bring their abundant talents to the work, which was adapted from the play Farragut North by Beau Willimon. It is intelligent and thought-provoking. My only misgiving is the climactic incident that brings the story to an ugly head. It seems inconsistent with the character's behavior earlier in the film. Of course, none of us is completely consistent, especially after experiencing what the character in question did. Still, that aspect did not work for me, although an alternative is proposed as a possibility for the behavior. Excuse me while I dance around any chance of spoiling the film. On a scale of five, I rate The Ides of March three-and-a-half. The folks at IMDb rate it 7.3.
And in the real world of politics, there was an incredible, embarrassing turn of events in West Virginia's Democratic primary. A federal convict paid to get his name on the ballot and drew 41% of the vote vs. the President's 57%. I don't know if it means anything in the overall race for the White House. After all, Obama has vowed to put an end to coal-mining, which provides the livelihood of many West Virginians. He must have angered many coal miners' daughters. Republicans, of course, are gloating. Democrats and their media acolytes are pretending it doesn't matter.
The rain stopped but the wind picked up. More than once I had to track down some pamphlets and paperbacks that blew away. I thank the kind folks who bought, and those who donated. I have quite a Russian library.

Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 5/9

The above are The Cleveland Five, members of Ohio's Occupy Wall Street movement, who didn't think enough was being done, so they decided to blow up a bridge. Fortunately, they proved incompetent at detonating the explosive devices they used. I guess they should've used the new underwear bomb Al Qaeda has developed. Rich Lowry's op-ed piece, syndicated in today's NY Post, focused on the creeps, the only information I've seen on this troubling story. I wonder how much press coverage this would be getting if the felons were right-wingers. Here's a picture of the bridge they tried to take down:

RIP Maurice Sendak, 83, a superb illustrator who has had more than 50 children's books published. Like me, he was born in Bensonhurst and is a graduate of Lafayette H.S.. Unlike me, his books have sold in the millions. His most loved, Where the Wild Things Are, has sold 17 million copies. He makes all alums (Redmen) proud. Well done, sir.


I got lucky today in more ways than one. I accompanied a handicapped woman to the dentist, earning money I wouldn't have made at the floating book shop, given the rain. I also ran into Maria, who was scheduled for a tooth extraction. She has finally moved from the house she lived in for 22 years. She avoided foreclosure but had to sell at a far lower price than she would have liked. Still, she doesn't owe any money. She has moved to an apartment in Bensonhurst, a few blocks from where I set up shop on weekends. She promised to visit and purchase Killing. She has read both Close to the Edge and A Hitch in Twilight. Also, she ran into an old-timer who once was the super of the building next door to her house. His daughter used to babysit her daughter. Small world indeed.

Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 5/8

As I was walking to my car, six Russian books in tow, I noticed that Roberto and Luis were working in the garden that surrounds the building where I usually set up the floating book shop. I decided not to get in their way, especially since the forecast called for rain, so I dropped my wares directly from my trunk to the curb. The results were good. Kayla, attractive, 30-something, bought A Hitch in Twilight. She'd just been picking flowers, at least the purple bulbs. I also sold three of those Russian books. And a woman purchased several children's books. Thanks, folks.

Joan, who uses a walker, stopped by and asked if I'd be interested in taking her to the cemetery in Staten Island where her parents are buried. I won't decide until she comes up with what she thinks will be a fair fee. Heck, these days a full tank of gas might be enough. The toll alone is $13. I'd do it if she bought all four of my books. She is an avid reader who has balked at the ten dollar price tag for my works. Rather than purchase A Hitch in Twilight, she will be borrowing it when Marie, who lives in the same building, is done reading her copy.
Later, one of the porters stopped by and asked if I was interested in encyclopedias. He purchased a set in 1995 for $2500. Of course, they have sort of been made obsolete by PCs. I suggested he put a message on the bulletin board. The building is huge. I'd bet somebody would want them. He may even be offered a token sum. As hard as it is to believe, some people want nothing to do with computers. A few have yet to convert to CDs or DVDs. Some cling to vinyl records, which astounds me. My literary quest would be nowhere without a computer.
Facebook has changed its look. I needed a picture for my personal page and chose the following, which I believe captures the essence of growing up in Brooklyn, at least for me, second from left bottom row.Click to enlarge.

Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 5/7

There are many nice surprises in life. Such was the case today when I played hooky on the golf course with my buddy Cuz, our third round of the season. I did not play last year because of hip pain. Given that it had been a year and a half since I'd taken to the links, I wondered if I'd ever break 90 again. I did so this afternoon at Forest Park in Queens. I don't know if it was because of low expectations, but I'd never felt more relaxed on the course. I felt my gut contract with anxiety only once, and that was due to slow play, which allows too much time for thinking negative thoughts. My concentration was as good as it ever gets. I didn't duff any shots until the last hole. And my ball-striking was so consistent. I didn't make any birdies, but I was either on the green or near it in regulation each hole but the last. The prior week I scored better (92) than I played, as I dropped in four long putts. This week it was just the opposite. I had two three-putts, and I failed to get a tough uphill pitch to hold the sloping 17th green. I nearly blew it on 18, but managed to put a long putt that traveled through a swale inches from the cup, and came in at 89. Cuz struggled mightily again, hitting the century mark, although he showed signs of regaining his form on the back nine, where he crushed a couple of drives only as he can. We were paired with Alvin and Calvin, two seniors with delightful islands' accents. I hope today's success doesn't resurrect the old Vic, who used to get so keyed up out there.
Congratulations to Mr. Connally, father of one of my ex-supervisors at the Exchange, who had his first hole-in-one recently. He is in his 80's, I believe. 
There was a surprise waiting for me in the mailbox. I terminated my landline phone several years ago to save money. I have not regretted it. Although my internet fee rose $20 as a result, I still came out way ahead. I was ticked off at Verizon. On at least two occasions, features were added to my bill without my approval, which I had to rectify by calling customer service. I received a post card saying there has been a class action suit against the company regarding third party charges. It looks like I will be entitled to $40. If it weren't such a hassle, I would have dropped them as my ISP as well. I've lost a lot of respect for them, despite their outstanding products.
I hope there will be more surprises tomorrow, like the rain holding off for a couple of hours so that I might sell some books.
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 5/6

I thank the kind folks who bought books on Bay Parkway, and Mother Nature for giving us a respite from the gloom of the past five days. Here's an excerpt from an unpublished story titled Change, probably written in the early '80's:

    I never thought I'd work there again. Funny how life worked. I was a stock-boy in Gimbel's the summer of 1968, as Vietnam was increasing its stranglehold on the nation, as ghettos were erupting in flames, as sexual mores were changing, as America was doubting, questioning itself. Abortion had yet to be legalized. Drug use was not nearly as prevalent.
   I'd just completed my freshman year, one-quarter of a degree in Physical Education that would serve no purpose save the biding of time and the realization that teaching and coaching would not be my life. I turned 18 in May. My father, 68, was still alive. The store, at the time the world's second largest, provided my first job. Minimum wage was $1.60 per hour. I avoided joining the union. I did not understand the need, as the job was temporary. Besides, I could not imagine allowing others to make decisions for me, telling me when to work and when not.
   To my surprise, employees in 1982 were still required to sign in and out of work. There was no time-card to punch. This seemed the only remaining similarity, however. In '68 I often left at 5:30, signing 6:00, in order to be home in time to play softball. I would arrive late most of the time, which forced me to be a spectator rather than a participant. It was one of my first tastes of the disappointments of adulthood.
    I was reprimanded by a manager once or twice, but was not deterred. After having put in a hard day under Mr. Gold, my cheating was easily rationalized. My friend Bill had recommended me for the job. He'd entered the store's Career Development Program upon graduation from high school. 15 years later, he remained, a monument to loyalty, although he hadn't risen above salesman. In fact, it was his recommendation that saw me hired during the Christmas season of 1982. Minimum wage had increased to $3.35. I guess there were things more absurd than an intelligent, hard-working man of 32 earning minimum wage, but not from his own perspective. At times I would laugh about it, at times cry. I was nearly in dire straights, having managed to get myself fired from a bar tending job because of a personality clash with the boss, then squandering my savings anticipating the opening of a restaurant in which I'd been promised employment by a man who appreciated honesty, punctuality and ability. I gladly accepted the sales position offered me, although I knew nothing about salesmanship. I'd always believed I was capable of adapting to anything.

Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/

Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 5/5

The sportswriter I respect most, Phil Mushnick, is under fire for comments he made Friday in his column in the NY Post. For years he has concentrated his criticism on the sports media, chiefly television, exposing the sins of the likes of Cablevision, which owns the Knicks and Rangers, Nike, the local pro teams ticket-gouging practices, the networks' transparent adoration of Tiger Woods, and much more. He has been fearless in taking on racial hucksters, especially Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson. The column in question took on record mogul JAYZ, whom he has criticized many times through the years, saying, essentially, that he made his millions denigrating blacks and women. The only things I know about JAYZ's work is what I've read in those columns. I've never heard any track of his, so I won't comment on his work, especially since, as a writer, I deplore any form of censorship. In the column in question, Mushnick suggests the Nets, owned in part by JAYZ, be called the NY N_____(Mushnick used the dash in the column), the cheerleaders the Brooklyn Ho's, and that the logo be a 9mm Glock with shell casings all around it, words and images JAYZ has used frequently in his recordings. This unleashed a firestorm and has many calling for his termination. He is being dubbed a racist by many who have not called JAYZ to account for his use of such terms and images. To me, Mushnick is one of the few journalists who will cite the ugly truths that plague the black community. He will not look the other way. In reading his work, I often wonder if he would condemn my novels, Killing and Close to the Edge, because of what some of the characters say. The thought is disappointing, as I so admire his work. When I first started writing in 1975, I used profanity liberally. A decade later, weary of its overuse by Hollywood, I did a complete about face and eliminated almost all of it from my work, none of which, fortunately, had been published yet. In Killing I use what I call Brooklyn Sicilian, Italian words bastardized here in America, and include a 30 or so word glossary of them, hoping readers will find it artful. The only argument against Mushnick that gave me pause was one that mentioned if he would make similar remarks if Francis Ford Coppolla were the owner of the Nets. I immediately thought: Or Scorsese. Regardless, I believe it is perfectly legitimate to raise the issues Mushnick does, especially in light of the violence that plagues the black community, which dwarfs the murders the mob commits. Firing him would be a blow against free speech and integrity.
The forecast said sunny, temperature in the 70's. In the words of the late Rodney Dangerfield: "You're way off!" I waited in the car for a half hour, then set up shop when it looked like the mist had stopped. The floating book shop was open 15 minutes when the rain returned. Fortunately, Jack, my best customer, bought six thrillers before that. I also sold ET on VHS to a young mom I knew would buy it if she happened by. Thanks, folks.

I haven't seen Bad News Billy for a month. Jack, an employee of Chase, where Billy banks, hasn't seen him, either. I hope he's okay. He wasn't taking care of himself. Maybe he had hip surgery, which he'd mentioned he was considering.
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/