What Are You Reading

[Fading Fast]

The Winston Affair by Howard Fast, first published 1959


In The Winston Affair, Howard Fast uses his impressive storytelling talents to turn a WWII court martial that seems open and shut into a fascinating revelation of how conspiracies truly work. Hint: it takes a lot of bending of the rules and looking the other way, especially at a high level.

As with any house of cards, there is an inherent fragility to a conspiracy that takes only one strong blow to bring it down. The military, however, is very good at disciplining everyone not to blow hard, until it chooses the wrong captain to act as the defense attorney.

Barney Adams, a young captain with an admirable war record, is chosen by General Kempton because he misunderstood Adams' true makeup. He thinks Adams is a military man first and always, but Adams is an honorable man first and always – a critical error on Kempton's part.

The handwriting was on the wall, too, as Adams could have received a comfy commission at the start of WWII, but enlisted in the infantry instead, as he wanted no favoritism. This is not the man to hire to "play his part" in a "just push it through" court martial strategy.

The murder trial at the center of the story is for an American lieutenant who shot and killed a British staff sergeant in cold blood and confessed to the crime. Set in the Far East, the U.S. military wants a quick conviction to appease the British to keep the Allies united.

To be fair, the powers that be see a captain who confessed to a murder; an ally who wants justice (really blood); and a big picture desire to keep relationships unstrained – all they need is a quick "fair" trial, a guilty verdict, and a hanging – is that too much to ask for?

It helps that Winston is an awful human being unless you believe he is unglued from reality. He is an inveterate racist and an egomaniac who, of course, crumbles in fear if any of his beliefs are threatened. It's hard to feel sympathy for him if he is found guilty.

But it has to look good, so they bring in an unblemished captain – Adams – as the defense attorney and tell him to put up a good defense but (mumble, mumble) not too good so as to win. Adams pushes back on the "mumble, mumble" and is told to do his best (wink, wink).

The legal concept everyone is dancing around – mumble, mumble, wink, wink – is insanity. It is the only way Winston could be found innocent of the witnessed killing he's never stopped confessing to. Surprisingly for the day, the military understood insanity as a genuine defense.

Adams, who has about a week to prepare his defense and two smart junior lawyers on his staff who want to win (they seem too far down to be pressured by the top brass), does what any good lawyer would do, which is, he starts interviewing the doctors who examined Winston.

Adams could just accept the findings of the hastily assembled "insanity board," but why did they not just use the report of the staff physician in psychiatry – now reassigned to an awful outpost – who examined Winston over a series of days when he was first admitted?

Heck, why call for an "insanity board" at all when a highly qualified psychiatrist had presented a well-documented, medically thorough report? In this context, the question answers itself: the powers that be didn't like the conclusion, so they made up their own report.

You have the general picture of what Adams is up against. Toss in a few more obliquely threatening conversations with Kempton, friendly witnesses getting pressured, and a short timeline, and Adams has to move heaven and earth just to get somewhat prepared for trial.

The trial offers all the tension and surprises any good military trial should, along with what one assumes is Fast's philosophy woven in amidst the arguments, including this big one: this trial of a nondescript, unlikable nutjob is important because he is a nondescript, unlikable nutjob.

You'll want to read the climax fresh as Fast keeps throwing twists in there right until the end. It's good page-turning storytelling. Conspiracies, military justice or not, true honor, and a despicable defendant are quite a brew.

Lady Justice is depicted as wearing a blindfold because she judges based on facts and evidence presented in the courtroom, not appearances or, equally bad, expediency. All Fast is really doing is holding up a mirror to the military and saying whom do you want to be?

It's the age-old battle of moral integrity versus immediate need, with institutions almost always leaning to immediate need, but the long-term health and reputation of the institution are always better off when it pursues the harder path of moral integrity.

Fast is an outstanding storyteller who keeps his tale ripping along with complex characters, a compelling plot, and vivid local (Far East) color. It's not great literature, but The Winston Affair is a smart, engaging, and entertaining novel that has held up very well even after all these years.


N. B. @Harp, this one is right up your alley.

 

[Harp]

^ Fast's trial epistle looks good. I'll bag it later this year. After I straighten myself out and polish off the
desktop accumulate book piles strewn and stacked so reflective my life's undisciplined mess.

Once upon a time, many moons ago, before college and law school, I was asked by two fellow enlisted men
to speak on their behalf at an Article 15 summary for late failure to repair guard mount. Our commanding
officer, a taciturn West Pointer, was court proctor. And seated behind the opened Uniform Code of Military Justice, he looked grim faced expectant. Dostoyevsky's Grand Inquisitor in The Brothers Karamazov came to
mind as I began my lame leniency pleading. All to no avail. The captain listened, then pronounced judgement.
Reading applicable citation line and verse, he delivered verdict. Three weeks barracks confine off duty,
with two weeks pay forfeiture. Not bad, and what I predicted would befall, tying knot as agreed to the detachment without going higher court martial, but recorded nonetheless. A black mark on the books without
rank reduction to Private First Class from Specialist 4, as agreed no appellate recourse.

I rotated back Stateside to the 101st Airborne at Ft Campbell, Kentucky for the last nine months. And our company First Sergeant ran the show like a money belt strapped around his waist. If a man got out of line,
Top Sergeant would offer a sawbuck pinned to the orderly room ******in board for any takers. And a bought
and paid for contractual arrangement occurred and the guilty party got his *** kicked.

No Article 15s ever happened in house with Top running the show.

 

[Tiki Tom]

Everybody comes to Rick’s.
The original stage play script that eventually became the movie Casablanca.

http://vincasa.com/Screenplay-Everybody_Comes_to_Rick's.pdf

I don’t know why, but I was surprised that so much of the great dialogue survived all the rewrites and made it to the silver screen.

 

[Harp]

^ A dozen or so years ago, my evening commute home was rerouted and I found myself aboard
a Chicago Transit Authority 52nd South Pulaski Avenue bus, comfortably seated on the back bench reading
Pollock's Spinoza when a sixteen year old kid politely inquired if I thought Maimonides had influenced
Spinoza.... Not the typical bus/subway encounter; although I was intrigued. We talked rationalism and medieval
philosophical meld until somehow Casablanca popped up in our discussion. He had seen the flick and was
stuck on Rick's rational derived soliloquy with Elsa; which I offered had breached the limits imposed free choice by honor, sacrifice, and ultimately self respect. Rick came to truth reluctantly but accepted its verdict and
found peace within himself, something Spinoza ultimately had also discovered.

The book to read is Aljean Harmetz' excellent, The Making of Casablanca; Bogart, Bergman, and WWII.
Which delvs into studio scriptwrite, rewrite, moral conundrum associated its plot structure.

---Frankly, were I Rick, I'd have spirited Elsa off to neutral Ireland for a Dublin Phoenix Park brownstone.
Sit the Irish Bar exam, practice estates & trust law, and have red meat, hard liquor, and soft beautiful Elsa.
The hell with being a soldier and the damn war. ...Of course, I didn't tell that to the kid....

 

[Fading Fast]

Gabriel's Moon by William Boyd, published in 2024


William Boyd has been a popular, award-winning author for several decades now because he writes smart, engaging stories with complex, appealing characters. Gabriel's Moon is another solid Boyd book – not his best, but good. It is also the first in his new (ish) spy trilogy.

Set mainly in the early 1960s, near the peak of the Cold War, which beyond bringing the world to the brink of nuclear annihilation, gave writers an incredible geopolitical dynamic to capture in books, movies, and TV shows. Writers of spy thrillers have been somewhat adrift ever since.

Boyd kicks off his trilogy in the 1930s when his protagonist, as a six-year-old boy, barely escapes a house fire that kills his mother. With his father having already died in a plane crash and his brother away at boarding school, Gabriel is psychologically traumatized by the event.

It's now the early 1960s and Gabriel is a successful travel writer who, owing to a few coincidences and without him fully knowing, gets drawn into the world of espionage by both his distant brother and, somewhat separately, a pretty, enigmatic handler, Faith Green.

Being a travel writer, single, and intelligent, Gabriel is a perfect "courier" for Green of MI6, Britain's Secret Intelligence Service. So he does "small" jobs for large pay, but of course, the jobs are critical and the pay reflects the risk whether he wants to acknowledge it or not.

Gabriel slowly gets drawn deeper into the espionage web, while in a parallel thread, he begins seeing a psychoanalyst as he has had insomnia his entire life, presumably from his childhood trauma. His "doctor," is a hoot and a half – you'll want to learn why "doctor" is in quotes.

Starting in the Congo in Africa and returning frequently to his home base in London, Gabriel travels to Cadiz, Spain, Warsaw, Poland, and Rome, Italy as part of his now entwined travel-writer/spy life that even he doesn't fully understand.

If there is a thread, that's it: he is searching for something, for some better understanding of life, his past, his trauma, or people, which makes him both a good travel writer and a good neophyte spy who also proves to be a fast learner.

Fans of Cold War spy novels should think of this one as being more about the spy-handler relationship first, and then the "turned spy" dynamic second, as the two drive the international thriller aspect in a good way.

There is also, of course, s*xual tension that develops between cool, aloof Faith Green and more open-to-emotion Gabriel. Their mental s*xual chess match is engaging. It is fun to see the Bond-spy-relationship dynamic turned on its head as the woman is clearly in control in this one.

That seems to be the way Boyd avoided the pitfalls of writing a period novel in our ridiculously pr*ckly modern environment. Kudos to him, though, as Green feels real and not just a reverse-engineered feminist hero like so many modern period-novel authors create.

The novel, however, lacks some 1960s vibe for that reason. Not all women wanted to be married and tucked away in a house back then, but many did; still, you won't feel that here. Instead, you get a lot of cigarette smoking and plenty of spy-vs-spy intrigue that helps the verisimilitude.

While several threads get tied u p at the end, several are left dangling so that Boyd has plenty of running room for his next two books in the trilogy. If you like Boyd and Cold War spy novels, Gabriel's Moon should work for you, but don't expect a Tom Clancy or Graham Greene book.

If anything, it's a lighter version of those often intense stories. Yes, the spy intrigue is real and deadly, but the focus is equally on what makes the spy and his handler tick. It's James Bond if Bond tried to come to terms with how being orphaned at eleven led to him becoming a spy.

 

[Tiki Tom]

Nicely reviewed. I like a good, old school 1960s spy novel. As you note, spy novels have been struggling since the end of the Cold War. Also, you hit the nail on the head with this sentence: “Green feels real and not just a reverse-engineered feminist hero like so many modern period-novel authors create.” Reverse-engineered! Exactly. I recently had to toss aside a book set on the Riviera in the 1920s (Villa America) because the whole book was filled with characters that screamed 2025, not 1925. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t necessarily disagree with the modern views, but it breaks the immersive spell of the period when the main characters have clearly teleported in from 100 years in the future. It’s an art to hit the right balance between authentic period atmosphere and views the modern reader can relate to. Oh, well., I didn’t mean to go off on that tangent. Thanks for the well-written review.

 

[Fading Fast]

Nicely reviewed. I like a good, old school 1960s spy novel. As you note, spy novels have been struggling since the end of the Cold War. Also, you hit the nail on the head with this sentence: “Green feels real and not just a reverse-engineered feminist hero like so many modern period-novel authors create.” Reverse-engineered! Exactly. I recently had to toss aside a book set on the Riviera in the 1920s (Villa America) because the whole book was filled with characters that screamed 2025, not 1925. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t necessarily disagree with the modern views, but it breaks the immersive spell of the period when the main characters have clearly teleported in from 100 years in the future. It’s an art to hit the right balance between authentic period atmosphere and views the modern reader can relate to. Oh, well., I didn’t mean to go off on that tangent. Thanks for the well-written review.

Really well said, all of it, but I wish I had written this:

"...a book set on the Riviera in the 1920s (Villa America) because the whole book was filled with characters that screamed 2025, not 1925. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t necessarily disagree with the modern views, but it breaks the immersive spell of the period when the main characters have clearly teleported in from 100 years in the future. It’s an art to hit the right balance between authentic period atmosphere and views the modern reader can relate to."

 

[Harp]

Never heard of Boyd. And only slight acquaintance with Grahame Greene and John Le Carre.
I read the latter's Pigeon Tunnel frankly because a woman friend had remarked this. She is an Israeli physicist turned endocrynologist; whose late husband I had been informed, narrowly missed the Nobel Prize for Physics by a hair's breadth. And the lady only told me about Le Carre's reminiscence. And that Burt Lancaster was ''her guy.'' So, so to speak, the bar was set high. Her grandson was in his last year at Annapolis and set to become a Marine helicopter pilot. Which I cheered, much to her dismay. And, of course, she didn't like Bibi Netanyahu.
I love the guy. For Christmas I gave her Thomas Sowell's Intellectuals and Society. And a From Here To Eternity
disc featuring a cover illustration of Deborah Kerr atop Burt Lancaster wave swept Kaneohe Beach film locale.
-I know I'm bad-... Still, Le Carre is strictly tabula raza. And I've envied his fan base eager for his latest fresh off the press book release found favorite book nookery.

I understand John Le Carre turned, becoming anti American, pro Russia. I've hesitated pursuing him any further. Seeming with Grahame Greene-not stuck of course, but Le Carre as discard joker makes Greene all the more likely candidate for apprentice read. What say you guys? Need some literary direction. I've also considered a deep dive J.R.R Tolkien. Tolkien was all the rage at college but I too quickly tossed him for being warmed over OZ, which I know was a mistake. And that literary train missed feeling never left but lingers gnawing heart strings perceptively.

 

[Fading Fast]

Never heard of Boyd. And only slight acquaintance with Grahame Greene and John Le Carre.
I read the latter's Pigeon Tunnel frankly because a woman friend had remarked this. She is an Israeli physicist turned endocrynologist; whose late husband I had been informed, narrowly missed the Nobel Prize for Physics by a hair's breadth. And the lady only told me about Le Carre's reminiscence. And that Burt Lancaster was ''her guy.'' So, so to speak, the bar was set high. Her grandson was in his last year at Annapolis and set to become a Marine helicopter pilot. Which I cheered, much to her dismay. And, of course, she didn't like Bibi Netanyahu.
I love the guy. For Christmas I gave her Thomas Sowell's Intellectuals and Society. And a From Here To Eternity
disc featuring a cover illustration of Deborah Kerr atop Burt Lancaster wave swept Kaneohe Beach film locale.
-I know I'm bad-... Still, Le Carre is strictly tabula raza. And I've envied his fan base eager for his latest fresh off the press book release found favorite book nookery.

I understand John Le Carre turned, becoming anti American, pro Russia. I've hesitated pursuing him any further. Seeming with Grahame Greene-not stuck of course, but Le Carre as discard joker makes Greene all the more likely candidate for apprentice read. What say you guys? Need some literary direction. I've also considered a deep dive J.R.R Tolkien. Tolkien was all the rage at college but I too quickly tossed him for being warmed over OZ, which I know was a mistake. And that literary train missed feeling never left but lingers gnawing heart strings perceptively.

Le Carre besides, apparently, turning pro Russian, was always a bit opaque for me. Being a young man in the 1980s, my favorite Cold-War writer back then was Tom Clancy with my distant memory telling me to recommend "Cardinal of the Kremlin" or "Red Storm Rising." For a less intense but still good Cold War read from the same era, I enjoyed Nelson DeMille's "The Charm School." I caution, I read all of these back around the time they came out, so forty-ish years ago.

 

[Harp]

^ My brother once met Clancy before the author's death and had a long converse regarding the spy genre.
Nice guy. Gave Matt an autographed book for me; which, lost peripatetic condominium conversion lost apartments, lost. Greene isn't bad like Fleming, just never really made any meaningful connection.

Oh, Further Ado (18) might be included your Derby tickets too. Not to win but underneath trifecta and superfecta. Bit over raced as I recollect so endurance for distance factor despite acceptable fractions.
However, like Renegade riding the rail, he's short odds. And speaking of the rail devil, the twenty horse gate improv over sweet sixteen and sidebar might help. But he's a slow starter so likely boxed in. With a good trip, everything his way forward, Renegade might hit board for a piece.

 

[Tiki Tom]

Just finished “Arch of Triumph” by Erich Maria Remarque. Published in 1945 (535 pages), it was a bestseller for several months in 1945 and 1946. It was later turned into a movie. Remarque is, of course, most famous for his earlier book, All Quiet on the Western Front. Remarque had to flee Germany after 1933.

Arch of Triumph takes place in Paris in 1939. The protagonist is Ravic, who was formerly a top surgeon in Germany before he had to flee. Back in Germany he had been thrown in a concentration camp because he had tried to help a Jewish colleague. In the hands of the bad guys, Ravic had been tortured and his girlfriend had also met a very bad end, Eventually he escaped and went to Spain to work as a doctor for the Loyalists in Madrid. As Arch of Triumph opens, we find Ravic living the life of an undocumented refugee in Paris. He is always dodging the police, and trying to evade deportation. He supports himself by illegally performing operations, under the table, at a private hospital. On page one he meets a woman and a reluctant romance develops. The story takes place as the inevitable start of WWII looms over the city of light. To spice things up a bit, Ravic may have spotted the man who had tortured him in Germany at a cafe’.

Pro: Arch of Triumph is very well written. Remarque paints a convincing picture of very human characters and of Paris itself. In a way, this book could be read as kind of a prequel to the movie Casablanca. (In fact, on page 69, Ravic has a drink at The Belle Aurore, which was Rick’s old cafe’ before the Germans marched in. Strange. No mention is made of Rick, etc, in any way.). Also, I couldn’t help but read the book and think that Ravic very much has Rick’s cynical yet kind hearted worldview.

Arch of Triumph is a very Noir book. Do these characters ever sleep? Most of the action is in cafe’s and bistros after midnight. The book is packed with refugees with interesting back stories. Danger and political intrigue lurk. Shady characters and ladies of the evening abound. Everyone drinks and smokes non-stop. Everyone knows that war is coming and they behave with hopeless abandon.

Con: The book is heavy with mood development and discussions about the world situation, relationships, and philosophical views. It is not really a plot-driven book. There is a plot, but it’s very long and slow in developing. Also, Remarque uses Ravic’s profession as a surgeon to paint a bleak view of humanity and its fate. Those who are especially sensitive about the finer points of morality and human behavior might be occasionally disturbed.

Overall: A good, well-written book and almost a “must” for people interested in the run-up to WWII and Paris in the 1930s. I’m surprised that I had not heard of this book long ago. On the other hand, it’s kind of a cerebral book featuring long discussions around cafe’ tables. Discussions of the truths about love/romance are as central to the discussion as are the views on the world situation. The action does not really take off until the last 150 pages. Thumbs up, but it may not be for everyone.

 

[Harp]

^ At The Existentialist Cafe: Freedom, Being, and Apricot Cocktails with Jean-Paul Sartre; Simon de Beauvoir; Albert Camus; Martin Heidegger; Maurice Merleau-Ponty and others.... by Sarah Bakewell.

Take this to Kaneohe Beach or the park in Maikiki Heights across the Art Museum for a nice dovetail read.
Paris 1933 and Phenomenology and existential wander emerge philosophy scene with the usual suspects.
A clay bottle of chilled Lancers Portuguese vino; or, a fifth Evan Williams eight year old Kentucky bourbon will do.

It's 02.51 hrs Chicago and I need some sleep for tomorrow. This Ranger deuce hours of sleep sweating out 24 hr Derby capping and pretending I'm still a teenager eventually Everready Bunny collapses....

 

[Tiki Tom]

^ At The Existentialist Cafe: Freedom, Being, and Apricot Cocktails with Jean-Paul Sartre; Simon de Beauvoit; Albert Camus; Martin Heidegger; Maurice Merleau-Ponty and others.... by Sarah Bakewell.

That’s a good tip. Looks brilliant.

https://www.amazon.com/Existentialist-Café-Cocktails-Jean-Paul-Merleau-Ponty/dp/1590514882

I went through an existentialist phase a few years ago. Even read an actual book of Sartre’s. Ultimately, I lost patience with Sartre. Whatever the merits of his philosophy, I found him to be a not very good human being. Although some would argue that I need to learn how to separate the philosophy from the philosopher! Anyway, this book looks fun and interesting. Right up my alley. Thank you.

 

[Harp]

That’s a good tip. Looks brilliant.

https://www.amazon.com/Existentialist-Café-Cocktails-Jean-Paul-Merleau-Ponty/dp/1590514882

Although some would argue that I need to learn how to separate the philosophy from the philosopher! Anyway, this book looks fun and interesting. Right up my alley. Thank you.

Chicago novelist Nelson Algren had an affair with Simone Beauvoir; whom once was Sartre's squeeze but remained close thereafter, and Algren also thereafter kept close her. Always thought their 'divorce' most unfortunate yet self inflicted two irrational beings. Bakewell's book is superb beach reading material.
Throw a frisbee around Kaneohe for me.

 

[Tiki Tom]

Kentucky Derby.
How did you do?

https://www.nbcnews.com/sports/horse-racing/live-blog/kentucky-derby-2026-live-updates-rcna341955

Hope you had relatively good results. I imagine it’s hard to pick such a long shot.

 

[Harp]

^ Busted. A wild card, Golden Tempo had adequate speed, hitting a triple improv stack, but overall I considered him at best average; hardly a bad *** threat. His last prep final eighth time was 12.37 seconds, under the thirteen second cut off yet still generally fair.

Renegade at second did better than expected. His 11.87 final eighth last prep proved endurance but a jail house rail locked out winning though I felt he'd do no better than third-if that. So, ******* surprised me there.

And Oceli claiming show shocked the hell out of me. His final eighth was 13.35 seconds, disqualified by Rees and going off 30-1 odds sealed silence.

I lost my $220 bankroll. All lettuce spread across track floor like a no escape Ranger School X ambush.
Two years ago, I told my accountant equines are sentient creatures possessing intelligence and personality. That, after hitting four horses out of the Super 5 fecta. So, I've lost much more from not winning the big bet than a lost lousy two yard-double sawbuck busted bankroll. Still, hurts like a *****.

A pro handicapper normally bats inside .400-.500 range; with the house advantage an omniscient twenty five-percentage cut before Uncle Sam and locals knife him their pie slice. The track variables comprise half the game-a full half that eludes mathematical equine certitude as shown yesterday. His bankroll only buys a forty four percent return for handicapping half the overall race. Luck of a particular race against track cruelty, weather included along the lean times. Days like yesterday when I busted all, feels like walking in to a right cross. To assuage the pain, I started reading Melville's Moby **** and ordered Sarah Bakewell's Existential romp for revisit. Feels like walking to the Ala Moana bus stop for Kaneohe. ''Mo bettah wahinies Kaneohe bro.'' How true. And lotza cougars too.

 

[Fading Fast]

It looked like Renegade was in a film noir movie he was so roughed-up right out of the gate.

I stopped betting on horses (other than as pure entertainment, $10 bucks or so a race) when – as you point out – I figured out just how stacked against you the odds are.

Now, when I go to the track, I expect to lose and consider the money no different than if I bought a ticket to a ballgame or movie. And every so often I win and often nearly break even, which means the entertainment was all but free.

 

[Harp]

^ A jigsaw Jack has a cursed lot, not for most. But a touch here, a touch there, coupled times when providential circumstance steps aside grudgingly for recognized individual talent. I've asked myself why I stay in this game, and it's not purse but puzzle; for which solution serves sufficient compensation.

As financier Bernard Baruch observed, ''All of life is a speculation.''

 

[Tiki Tom]

It used to be that, if you went to Vegas, you could at least count on a cheap buffet after a day of donating to the casino. Now you don’t even get that.

 

[Harp]

It used to be that, if you went to Vegas, you could at least count on a cheap buffet after a day of donating to the casino. Now you don’t even get that.

The Venetian is my regular Vegas stop, and several houses therein are worthwhile dining venues whose cost I just add on the freight charge. The poker's good and relaxing. A few years ago, I bought some cigars there at a tobacconist shop for a fellow lounger. Concierge posted. Top service staff, and I occasionally ordered outside premise for ribs delivery without complaint. Try it next time you're in town.