Caught an episode of CSI Miami. All these stylish people appear jetlagged, with not enough energy to work but just enough to posture stylishly. Someone should tell the actress playing the pathologist that pathologists actually look at what they’re working with, partly for fear that they will end up on their own dissecting table. Someone should tell the redhaired lead detective that the crims are supposed to confess because he’s menacing them, not charmingly condescending to them. Miami is soullessly shot — please, please, someone, anyone, tell me the director and cameraman have the brains and taste to do it on purpose! — as another glossily empty actor posing stylishly but purposelessly. There’s zero detection — unless the detective watching over a sick colleague at the hospital and building a fingerprint set in the hospital pharmacy to stave off boredom is the Sherlock Substitute. Still, he does find the incriminating fingerprints on the esky for taking beer to the cricket– ah, sorry, this is almost as boring as cricket. Actually he finds the prints on a coolbox used for carrying kidneys to transplant victims — and in a parody of proper police procedure takes the photograph of the prints to be matched with the camera on his phone. But by then the show was running out of time and credibility, so the crim didn’t even ask for a lawyer, or point out that they couldn’t convict him of jaywalking because the dead doctor done it. Nah, he just confessed because because they’re all so cool, it would have been churlish not to tell them what they want to know, so they can go home and catch up on their sleep. I wish I did. Zzzzzz.
The announcer said the second of the double bill of CSI Miami, which I denied myself in favour of a spot of self-flagellation, was the “last”. One wonders whether it is the last in the current series, or one hopes it is the last forever, because it is clearly a series that has run out of steam and is just going through the motions.
Hi. I’m André Jute. That’s my photograph in the banner above, kissing the Blarney Stone, which is about 40 minutes up the road from where I live on the Carbery Coast of West Cork, in Ireland. There’s a longer biography and booklists and suchlike in the dropdown menus above.
I’m a writer. I write novels and non-fiction texts in subjects related to my various professions; my hobbies soon turn into professions or books or both. There are well over two hundred editions of my books in a dozen or so languages, and many thousands of reviews in the performing arts, my preferred form of journalism. It’s many years since I counted my books: the first editions take up five shelf-feet.
The occasion for this blog is the 25th anniversary release next year (2011) of the entirely revised 5th edition of WRITING A THRILLER, first published in 1986, and since reissued in three ever fatter revised and expanded editions, with a fourth enlarged edition currently being prepared for the Kindle. I’m preparing to create an entirely new 5th edition, and later this year that will for a while become the main subject of this blog. Meanwhile there are other books from my backlist to rewrite and launch onto the electronic seas, and several books by others that I’m helping with.
My schedule is pretty full, so I shan’t be sticking strictly to the writing of one text-book. I expect this blog to touch on any and all aspects of writing and books that occur to me. Though my hobbies and rants will be in other blogs my publishers are giving me space for, in this one I shall add notes about the music I listen to, the videos and films I see, the books I read, and a few other things I do, simply because a writer doesn’t live and work in a vacuum. You may ask, What about newspapers and magazines? I don’t read any; if they contain anything I need to know about, someone is sure to give me the gist of it. I rarely watch the news on television either.
Readers are welcome to ask questions or make suggestions of topics I should cover.