Author Archives: robinandrew0804

About robinandrew0804

Robin Andrew is my pen name; I’m a runner, a writer, and a parent, from a small town in central Colorado. As a youngster, my biggest athletic aspiration was to not be the last person picked when teams were chosen for games. Since taking up running for stress relief (right about the time our kids entered their teen years - go figure) and fun, I’ve run fifteen marathons and dozens of other events, on both pavement and trails. This site is my way of sharing the joy and sense of accomplishment I’ve found in simply putting feet into motion, plus a few other bits and pieces of what I find interesting and worth caring about.

The Relic Master, Christopher Buckely

Intended as a comic romp through the Europe of 1517, much of this novel feels rickety and theatrical, the characters and dialogue anachronistic enough to break the spell of the detailed settings and historical context Buckley has marshalled on their account. As much as those sorts of clashes have worked in films like Monty Python and the Holy Grail, or on paper in Chabon’s Gentlemen of the Road, here they fall flat. One liner note specifically references The Princess Bride, and it may well be that high bar for which the author has aimed and missed; not by a mile, but not by a hair, either.

What has been hit though, is the religious and monarchical context; corrupt institutions manipulating all beneath them to fill their coffers through taxes, conquest and the sale of indulgences, while nobles and clerics fill their palaces with costly religious relics whose absurdity appears to drive the author’s passion as much as anything else we read.   Protagonist Dismas – the Relic master of the title – is an intriguing construct, and a worthy reminder that the single-minded mercantile instincts which guide some of today’s less-enlightened entrepreneurs have existed far longer than our current business models and market segments. That Martin Luther would rebel against such tyranny and hypocrisy is entirely understandable and justified, though his unlikely protection by one of the oppressors comes across as a lucky accident of personalities – or the hand of Providence, perhaps?

For a novel clearly intended to entertain, there are moments of fun, from the bumbling of oafish mercenaries to the triumph of its rag-tag protagonists. Neither Dismas, though, nor Albrecht Durer (the historically-real artist who ends up helping in his scheme), nor even the lovely Magda, an escaped prostitute with a heart of gold (of course) are filled-out any more than we’d expect in an Ocean’s Eleven prequel. Which, come to think of it, is actually not a bad way to describe this piece, but with Medieval technology in place of the modern.

Erudite and critical enough to give the Roman Catholic Church some heartburn when Buckley makes the case for Luther’s protests and the power of the written word, this may perhaps find purpose as a vehicle to educate teen–aged boys about the roots of the Reformation.

Love to see how that goes over with the Harper Valley PTA!

The Places In Between, Rory Stewart

This remarkable journey – walking across most of Afghanistan shortly after the U.S. invasion – calls to mind the tales of early Brits who first introduced the folks back home to the Middle East, Africa and Asia. It makes clear the discrepancy between our brash intent to bestow democracy and pluralism upon the Afghan people, and those peoples’ ingrained sense of their own culture and values, which have been thousands of years in the making.

Stewart writes in a modest and fluid manner which underplays the risks of his journey; if not for his apparently-excellent language skills, he would almost certainly have been killed any number of times, so the book works as well as drama as it does as personal memoir.  It is also an effective rebuttal to the notion that any amount of outside ( read ‘U. S.’) force will mold these mountain dwellers to a Western-style pluralistic democratic society in any time frame acceptable to the political interests that have put us there.  His knowledge of the region’s culture and history (which, by the way, is longer than that of our own nation) reminds one that the residents have their own traditions to honor and continue.  They are not waiting around for us to remake them in our image, thank you very much.

Deserves to  become a classic of twentieth century exploration, and a critical puzzle-piece to the history of post 9-11 American adventurism .



Room, Emma Donoghue

Room sets off on a Movie-of-the-Week premise – five-year old Jack has lived his entire life in a single room, victim along with his mom (Ma) of a tabloid kidnapping/imprisonment – and takes it farther, into Ellie Wiesel territory; human-kind’s capacity for adaptation, the saving power of love and the forces shaping one’s perception and world view. In doing so, it goes way beyond genre and expectation, offering insights relevant well-beyond the tiny population who’ve suffered any similar fates. Donoghue’s hand is, for the most part, light, as we sense Ma’s desperate coping mechanisms only thru Jack’s child-centric perceptions.  Donoghue allows us to feel the desperation of their escape attempt (the least believable element, until the Opra-esque TV interview which follows it) and the awkwardness of reunion with others after 7 years in their own little world. The novel’s intent at brevity is evident in some after-escape segments, but all in all that is a blessing, as Jack’s first-person voice can be a bit tiresome.

The final beats reinforce the author’s strongest theme – that for Jack their tiny  room was not a prison, but home, and in some ways a bit of a paradise: Ma all to himself 24/7/365, safe and filled with all he had ever known – and nearly all he ever wanted.  By making it his only world, Ma protected her baby, but at the same time, prevented him from understanding his true fate, and so from growing beyond its four, very limiting, walls

A useful analogy, and a keeper of a tale.

The Way of the World, David Franklin

Browsing a Vegas Goodwill shop for some throw-away layers to wear at the cold early-morning start of a marathon, decided to pick up a lightweight travel–read as well, and this slim volume peeped out from among the shelves and shelves of generic cops and lovers. In 239 highly-readable pages Franklin traces human-kind’s progression from purely survival-driven tribalism to today’s globe-girdling, technology-dependent, relatively-rational and somewhat-open-minded civilization, postulating 8 major steps that got us here:

Becoming Human; Inventing Civilization; Developing a Conscience; Seeking a Lasting Peace; Achieving Rationality; Uniting the Planet; Releasing Nature’s Energies; and Ruling Ourselves

Echoing others who have called the Twentieth ‘The American Century,’ he presents a case that the USA’s eminence is due not to any inherent moral superiority but simply to the lucky accidents that allow it to embody humanity’s most progressive (most progressive to date, he might caution) traits and achievements. With that as back ground, he then speculates on what the next century might hold for our blue, white, green and brown orb. Nearly twenty years in on that adventure now, it is interesting to note that Franklin wrote here in 1998 of the threat posed by the most-radical factions in Islamic cultures (and fundamentalism in general), rightly characterizing it as a rejection of rationalism; a willful step backward on our communal journey. Clear evidence, if any were needed, against those who imply that those forces only became visible on 9/11, and a prescient analysis of our current big picture.

Most striking of Franklin’s observations are those which connect over the centuries – ancient Greek thoughts and actions which seem eerily apt descriptions of contemporary ones; and Rome’s struggle to survive, which appears so similar to some scenarios of our own system’s woes. Of course this author is not the first to make such connections, as he himself points out.

Ultimately optimistic in its view of a species whose intelligence has, for six thousand years, led to the gradual but unmistakable improvement of most persons’ lives, this is also a cautionary tale – progress is neither continual nor assured. But, the record suggests that it is possible, and should we continue to avoid self-destruction, any periods of stagnation or back-sliding are likely to be followed by eras of further progress.

A comforting outlook that extends past any one moment of circumstance; the very exemplar of why History is worth studying.

Unlike the second-hand hoodie I purchased that morning and tossed onto a pile near the start line outside St. George, this book is staying on my shelf.

Vexation Lullaby, Justin Tussing

Wonderful surprise; a rock-n-roll novel that feels true and real while transcending its setting and subject to reveal real thought and humanity, rising beyond the stereotypes and neuroses.

As much as I enjoyed the dissolute rock-star Jimmy Cross – skillfully complexified by Tussing – and the protagonist Peter Silver, it is the exploration of obsessive fan Arthur Pennyman (‘Everyman’?) which jolts this out of genre, as he gains a love interest and a life. Or perhaps it is really the women – Arthur’s Rosslyn, Peter’s Maya and Jimmy’s Judith – who humanize the men and the novel. In any case, it is the relationships and dynamics that surprise and reward here, not the drunken debauchery, which comes across mostly as habit and self-medication rather than joyful or even truly sordid.

A human and humane story set in a milieu not typically known for either, spun out with a sure hand, even down to Pennyman’s obsession with footnoting.

(Footnote – I look forward to checking out ‘The Best People in the World’ Tussing’s earlier novel, which is listed as winner of a Ken Kesey Award)

The Death of Politics, Peter Wehner

Subtitled ‘How to Heal our Frayed Republic After Trump,’ this comes from a former speechwriter to Ronald Reagan, protégé of Wm. Bennet and official in both Bush administrations.  Credentials which would have made him a credible conservative and Republican in earlier years, but not today, as he would likely be labeled a RINO for calling out the willfully-ignorant behavior of the current administration and its enablers. Call it out he does though, beginning with a brief history of the term ‘politics’ (the affairs of the City, to the ancient Greeks) and progressing to analyze what has led to such contempt for the actual hard work of governing and for those persons who commit themselves to an honest effort to get it right. The ‘death’ to which the title refers is more an assassination, by those who’ve given up hope of getting anything right through diligence and have turned instead to destruction, or who’ve seized on past dysfunction as an opportunity to advance for their own agendas/celebrity through claiming to hold the magic wand that will make it all better, effortlessly.

Wehner presents himself also as a Christian, and includes a chapter on Politics and Faith, which will probably prevent the loudest current voices in that realm from hearing his arguments either, as he has no truck with their support for Trump. Religion is, in the author’s view, a necessary component of a decent life and an integral basis for ‘Politics’ with a capital ‘P.’ Agree or disagree with that (I disagree…) but it is refreshing to hear one of such beliefs who is not fooled by Trump’s charade of piety for the sake of votes.

All that goes down very well with this reader; Wehner seems knowledgeable and reasonable (except his defense of the invasion of Iraq, but that is more of an afterthought, something he seems to feel needs defense for sake of his overall credibility).  Unfortunately though, his prescription for ‘healing’ the situation is minimal; basically an exhortation for us all to be more rational, more committed and to work harder. There is precious little specific advice on how to get the nearly-half of the populace that voted for and still supports Trump to change their behavior. Except perhaps to wait out the generational shift which is in progress, until enough of us old white males have died off to allow the rest of you to return the nation to some level of reason and endeavor – if it survives the wait.

Remarkable Creatures, Tracy Chevalier

This volume extends Chevalier’s genre – novelized histories of cultural icons, as told through the lives of women who orbit or inhabit them – by addressing not some well-known male figure or male-made object, but a pair of under-acknowledged women, Mary Anning and Elizabeth Philpot, whose excavation of fossils along the beaches around Lyme Regis, England, helped spawn the field of paleontology and with it, our modern understandings of evolution, zoology and biology.  This the author does with grace and generosity, if somewhat of a Hallmark Channel/young adult vibe.

The tale is told in alternating first person narratives, with Annie’s broken grammar the main indicator of who is speaking as each section begins.  Despite the intimacy of the first person, one never feels a visceral connection with either woman, likely due to the formality and reticence which characterize their era (the early- to mid-nineteenth century). Yes, their romantic disappointments are addressed, but there is little reflection or revelation, Chevalier’s concentration is very much on the science and sociology of the story, and it is there, in the women’s interactions with the men who rule those spheres, that more heat is produced. Anning’s loss of repute for being ‘on beach’ with a male, Philpot’s need to secure a male escort for any public errand in London, these are clear and impactful; a woman’s life was in large-part a prison, and when gender did not suffice to complete its enclosure, then drudgery did, witness Anne’s mother, Molly Anning, or Philpot’s servant, Bessy.  It is so telling that the novel’s high points of suspense and drama are Philpot’s unescorted excursion to overhear a lecture (she must hide on a back stair to do so), and her later boldness in approaching the Geological Society, even with her young nephew as escort. While a couple of the ‘scientists’ show nascent traces of open-mindedness, the men in this story are by and large smug, self-satisfied and uninterested in the world around them, except for their narrow spheres of ‘expertise’. The most interesting of them, Mary’s Dad and Elizabeth’s nephew, are only minor players.

This, in retrospect, is the most important message of the novel; not what these two intelligent and driven women discovered, but what they had to overcome to do so, and then to attain even modest recognition in their lifetimes. Remarkable Creatures is, in effect, a prison-break story; The Great Escape for women imprisoned by custom, manners and gender. Bittersweet, and well-worth the telling and remembering.