I hope you aren't sick of hearing about Murder, Neat, because here we go again. I am thrilled to teeny little sub-atomic bits to have a story in the SleuthSayers anthology.
In "Shanks's Sunbeam," Leopold Longshanks has lunch in a tavern with a fellow mystery writer who tells him that a mutual acquaintance has been accused of Doing a Bad Thing. It is probably not a spoiler to tell you our hero saves the day.
But what I want to talk about is the name of that lunch companion: Procter Ade. I made up the first name but the last is a homage to my inspiration.
I have written here before about George Ade. Early in the last century he was a midwestern humorist and journalist. He is mostly remembered for his Fables in Slang. These were a series of short stories he wrote which satirized human nature and social mores. Since he wanted people to know that he knew slang didn't belong in a newspaper he capitalized all the guilty words and unusual uses (Much as I did above with "Bad Thing")
. Here are three of his opening sallies:
"One Autumn Afternoon a gray-haired Agriculturalist took his youngest Olive Branch by the Hand and led him away to a Varsity."
"Once there was a home-like Beanery where one could tell the Day of the Week by what was on the Table."
"Once there was a Financial Heavy-Weight, the Mile-Stones of whose busy life were strung back across the Valley of Tribulation into the Green Fields of Childhood."
And since the stories were fables they all ended with morals:
"In uplifting, get underneath."
"A good Jolly is worth Whatever you pay for it."
"Give the People what they Think they want."
Dublin |
Not too long ago I was thinking about one of my favorite Fables and I realized I could steal a plot device from it. The result is "Shanks's Sunbeam." If you would like to read my inspiration you can find it here. But I urge you to read my story first. I'd rather spoil Ade's story than mine.
By the way, "Sunbeam" also involves memories of my pre-Covid trip to Ireland. I'm sure that makes future visits tax deductible, right?
I'm looking forward to reading the rest of Murder, Neat.
Ah, the Hoosier poet! He has been immortalized by a rest stop on the Indiana Turnpike! I never realized he was so funny.
ReplyDeleteWas he a poet? News to me. In NJ we had a turnpike named after Joyce Kilmer, the guy who never saw a poem as lovely as a tree...
DeleteIt's always good to see Shanks in a story, Rob!
ReplyDeleteYour Shanks stories are always a lot of fun! And good luck on that tax deduction. Sounds legit to me.
ReplyDeleteEve and Larry, thanks for the kind words.
ReplyDelete