Forty-ninth Saturday

On wrinkled river
Helicopter's shadow slides,
Ferry's white wake froths.

Tall construction crane
Looms over trees, low buildings:
Iron dinosaur.

Dog jumps on next bench,
Sticks cold nose in hand, wags tail,
Refuses to leave.


And don't forget your 2016 Calendars!

The Rozan Report, December 2015 Edition

Greetings!

It’s been a long time since the last Rozan Report and I’ve missed you all! I hope you’ve been happy, healthy, and productive. (Yes, I still use the Oxford comma and I don’t care who knows it.) For my part, I’ve been traveling, writing, teaching… oh, all kinds of things. And sometimes, all of them at once.


 

Sweet tea, espresso, Mongolian salt tea?? 

For the first time in my life I was in Mississippi. That leaves only four states I haven’t at least set foot in. (Should we have a contest on the website to guess which ones?) My friend Eric Stone (http://www.ericstone.com/) moved down there, to Clarksdale in the Delta, so I went to visit. After two days of tooling around with Eric (the world’s best tour guide) and local hero Ace Atkins (http://www.aceatkins.com/), I woke up with a hangover and an idea for a new Lydia Chin book. Luckily the one that faded was the hangover. The book, to be called SWEET TEA, is underway. 

 

In July I was in Assisi, as usual, teaching a writing workshop. An awful lot of you keep saying “maybe next year” about coming to Assisi to take a workshop and I want to say, THIS YEAR! Come to Assisi! This summer’s dates are July 27 – Aug. 9. Room, breakfast, dinner, and workshop in a four-star hotel with a very friendly staff; plenty of time to relax, to explore the beautiful town, and to GET SOME WRITING DONE! http://artworkshopintl.com/  

 

 

 

My big trip this year was in August, when I went to Mongolia for the third time. (And how many people do you know who can say that?) Went with a bunch of traveling buddies, had a fabulous time. We hit the Gobi, where we climbed a big giant sand dune and then had a picnic dinner in its shadow as the sun went down; 

 

 

to the wild east where we camped in the middle of a thunderstorm and woke up in the middle of a herd of migrating gazelle;

 

 

and further into the wild east to a pine-surrounded lodge built by a Mongolian man who spent a few years in the US as a rodeo bull rider.   There’s a book coming out of Mongolia, too, THE KHAN’S KEY. Stand by.


Assisi, Martha’s Vineyard, or Wisconsin?  

While you’re standing by, and if you can’t come to Assisi (come to Assisi!) here’s where I’ll be teaching in the US in 2016.

I’ll be in West Bend, WI, for the third annual Writers’ Bookcamp (like Bootcamp but for books, get it?) for a week, May 15 – 21. A week in a beautiful quiet retreat, hills, pond, walking trails and other writers. No specifics on the Wisconsin Writer’s Association website yet, but keep checking back. And no, you don’t have to be in, or from, or ever have seen, Wisconsin, to come.

Then June 19-25 I’ll be doing a Crime Writing Workshop on Martha’s Vineyard, MA, at the Noepe Center for Literary Arts. Again, beautiful and serene, a great place to focus and work.  


Mark Your Calendars Now!

Now, if you need something to help you keep track of the days until your workshop starts, I have three new 2016 calendars. (Because of what use is an old 2016 calendar?)

They are: Travels, Flowers, and The Five Snouts of Mongolia, plus.

Pick them up and never be confused again. At least, about what day it is.


Listen up! Bill Smith’s music recommendations

In preparation for a trip to the Mississippi Delta, Bill Smith has been spending time with some of BB King’s recordings, particularly “Live at the Apollo.” BB King recently died at 88. He and his guitar, Lucille, are well worth any number of hearings. Here they are — King and Lucille — doing “The Thrill is Gone.”


Ma Chin’s Kitchen Table

I know many of you have been following the stories of my daughter’s cases. I would certainly rather she had chosen a path that did not lead her into association with the type of person she encounters in her detecting work. I mean, of course, both the criminals, and the other investigators. I am sure that soon she will outgrow the foolishness of her current career and realize how many other more respectable possibilities are open to her. However, until she does, I am still her mother and it is my duty to assist my children in whatever way I can. To this end I have recently begun to investigate some cases myself, ones involving people too distasteful for me allow to associate with my daughter. If you are interested, two of my cases are chronicled in these publications.

“Chin Yong-Yun Meets A Ghost,” by S.J. Rozan, in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, March-April 2015.

“Chin Yong-Yun Makes a Shiddach,” by S.J. Rozan, in MANHATTAN MAYHEM.


Well, that’s it for now. Have a great holiday season and a terrific start to 2016. See you around the block!
  SJ


Forty-eighth Saturday

 

Glassy high water.
Cormorants flap drying wings.
Pilings stand like reeds.

Neighbor stops to chat.
Tourists photograph the sky.
Runner slaps on past.

Small tug, little barge,
Inching by at turtle speed,
Barely leaving wake.

And don't forget your Five Snouts of Mongolia, Flowers, and Travel Calendars for 2016!

New Town Future Film

Went to Red Hook last night to see the presentation of “New Town Future Film,” a video by my buddy, the photographer/videographer Ana Bilankov.  We met in 2006 at the Atlantic Center for the Arts, one of my favorite places on the planet.  Ana is from Zagreb, lives and works now in Berlin, and has been to NYC on artist’s residencies three times in the last few years.  Among other things she’s been working on is this film, which is twenty minutes of the most stunning, noirish, dreamlike images you’ll ever see.  I have no images from the film, or any of her works, to post, but when you go to her website you’ll see them, and here I offer you this shot of Ana introducing the work.  It’s kind of Bilankovian in feel, itself.

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Forty-sixth Saturday, eight days late

These were lost, but now they're found.

Whitecaps race downstream.
Strong wind blows across current.
Tea goes cold quickly.

Corrugated clouds,
Sharp-edged, fast-moving water,
Bright light in slices.

Fast flash against gray:
On ferry terminal roof,
Ridges have caught sun.

Forty-seventh Saturday

Blue-and-white striped tug,
Black tires nailed to painted hull,
Frothy wake behind.

Tide out, river calm.
Dots of seagulls, rolling waves,
Sentinel pilings.

Cormorant pops up,
Looks left, right, nothing to see,
Arcs and dives again.

The 2016 SJ Rozan Calendars are here!

For your holiday gift-giving pleasure.  You don’t have to deal with Black Friday, Small Business Saturday (though it’s true I’m a Very Small Business), Cyber Monday, or Happy, Sleepy, Doc, or Bashful, either.  Just order your Travel Calendar, your Flowers Calendar, or your Five Snouts of Mongolia, Plus Calendar (and where else are you gonna get THAT?) for a year of photos like these.

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From 2016 Five Snouts of Mongolia, Plus

 

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From 2016 Flowers

 

 

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From 2016 Travel

 

Happy shopping!

 

 

 

River report

Lots of fog in the past few days, much of it beautifully low-hanging enough to dissolve the tops of the towers on both sides of the river. Cormorants huddling on the pilings, gulls swooping, and a red-tail who seems to be making the neighborhood his home. Fingers of gold leaves from the locust trees lying in criss-crosses on dark wet stone. This morning, sudden silver bursts of fish jumping from the water right in front of my bench. I watched for a while hoping they were being chased by a seal who’d eventually surface. Seals from New England do winter in Jamaica Bay, but they don’t often come this far up the Hudson. I’ve only seen one here, about four years ago.  Did not see one this morning.  In the end I had to admit the predator was probably just a bigger fish.

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Harry Houdini’s grave

 

Because I know you want to see it.  Houdini was a Hungarian Jew, the son of a rabbi.  Born Erich Weisz, he later spelled his last name Weiss because it was easier to explain. When he became a professional magician he called himself Harry after Harry Kellar, and Houdini after Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin, two magicians he admired (though he later went on to expose Robert-Houdin as a liar, if not exactly a fraud).

Houdini’s buried in Queens, in what’s called the “cemetery belt” on the Terminal Moraine.  (Really.)  This is not the world’s best photo of his grave, but I had to take it from outside the fence, because when we went to see it, the cemetery gate was locked. That kept us out, though of course there’s no reason to think it’s keeping him in…

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Forty-fifth Saturday

Flaw in heavy clouds.
Sun pours through, hits long ridge top.
Buildings all light up.

River flat and calm.
Fallen yellow leaves drift past
Two ducks breakfasting.

Cormorant takes off,
Flaps low over water's glass
To fresh fishing ground.