Pornokitsch

Elmore Leonard

Ah, here’s another one. Mr. Leonard was as American as they came, and he laid it thick when it came to giving us a peek into the criminal side and mindset of the back-against-the-wall slice of American life. I learned to write dialogue reading Elmore Leonard. Open an Elmore Leonard book and the tiny voice you hear in your head after you read the first lines is saying, “Buckle up.” Mr. Leonard approximates James Hadley Chase in plot and themes, but Leonard takes it a bit further in dialogue. His setting is Florida, USA, but it might as well be Anywhere, USA. The dialogue and character ring so true that you wonder if dude was not right there, in the middle of it all, just steno graphing his ass off, and then giving it back to us as “fiction.”

Several of Elmore Leonard’s books have been turned into movies, and there’s a good reason for it. The stories are frigging cinematic. You see it as you read. You smell it as you read. I’m the type of reader who likes to divvy up the goodies equally amongst my senses when I read. If I’m chugging along with it, there’s a good chance you got me good. Meaning, I can see it, smell it, taste it, feel it, and maybe hear it.

Used Book Stores

I go into the store, walk to the discarded pile table, pick up a book and flip to a page inside. Any page. Through the prose, I can figure out what the story is about, and will tell right there if to invest in the reader or not. I avoid the name thing like a plague. If I flip to a page in your book, and I’m engaged, I may then turn to the back cover of the book to see what the whole story is about. It’s perhaps only then I check out the name of the writer. I don’t keep books I don’t read, and so if you happen to find a book lying around in my house, there’s a good chance I’ve read the darn thing.

I’ve been disappointed enough times playing the name game. I’ve picked up books written by award-winning writers only to drop them after reading two or three chapters. I’ve been schooled by unknown writers I’ve met via the “On Sale” pile at the Used Book Store. These books are dog-eared, undignified looking for a reason – they’ve been passionately handled (read) by their previous owners. That’s how I met Herbert Kastle. His book, The Movie Maker, grabbed me right away the minute I read a few lines pages into the book. The fact that it was a voluminous book made it sweeter. See, I like my ice cream to last impossibly longer if it and my taste buds are on the same page. I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and it’s one of the few books I would reread in a heartbeat. I learned to juggle multiple characters in a story reading this book.

Hip Hop and Fela Kuti

Yap, those two go together like a juicy steak and beer. Hip Hop instituted the immaculate revolution in music, and perhaps pop culture. The aftershocks (and pay-off) of that revolution can be felt to this day. Heard of Dr. Dre (of NWA fame) becoming a billionaire recently? He can thank the Hip Hop culture for that. Decades ago, when you turned on the radio, “rock and Roll” dominated the airwaves, and all other types of music were moved to the back of the bus, or were not even allowed to enter the damn bus. Talents in other genres of music, and even rock and roll excited crowds and listeners in their little neighborhoods, but could not get the big airplay that was very necessary for a broader audience. A tiny group of neighborhood kids got together, gave the finger to the music industry, and started their own thing, with mass appeal as least of their worries.

And hip hop was born.

Fela went to Los Angeles to gig and showcase his musical talent. Thanks to fate, he met Sandra Isadore Smith and he was never the same again – mentally and musically. Fela shed the stuffy, follow-the-herd mentality much of humanity is cursed with today, and listened to his inner voice. Just as in the case of the hip hop kids, he gave the finger to the established convention in the form of the music he played (jazz), and did his own thing.

Hip hop went back to the hood and brought back tales and skills drive-by industry types and musicians never knew existed, or were determined to ignore. Today we have something called rap, and as a result, we have an idea of what percolates within the walls of the Watts and Long Beaches of this world, and within the minds of the youth that populate the landscape. The landscape has not looked the same ever since. Today, hip hop is the dominant culture and music genre of our time. Go to any neighborhood in Isreal, Germany, Turkey, Ghana, anywhere, and you will find a kid spitting a verse in rhyme, or trying to. And nine times out of ten, they ain’t talking about how fancy their tuxedos look.

Okay, I may be rambling here, but this thing here got me going. And I know your mind is fixated on gangster rap, and you’re ready to accuse me of something. Do your research, bud. Know that, like life, hip hop comes in 3D, maybe 4D – the good, the rough and the ef-it.

Bring your stuff into the mix, is what I’m trying to say here. The sanitized world of literature where every character speaks the same way bores the hell out of me. I know corporate publishers want it that way, but…ugh.

Fela Kuti and hip hop taught me to allow my characters to speak the way I hear them speak as I write. They taught me to allow my characters to look, walk, and act the way they want to. You don’t understand that ethnic word in my story? Google it, bud. I love ethnic expressions. It’s what makes the world worth living. I want to hear, smell and read about the different ethnic parts that make up a culture, be it Russian, Nigerian, English, or whatever. So.

I have another one: Sports Talk Radio. However, I said five, so I’ll keep my word. 

Peace.

And all the writers and artists out there - what inspires you? Where do you go, who do you read, what helps you get into the special place where you can create brilliance? (Also, psst.)