Shanzhai!

Originally published on Murder Is Everywhere, Aug. 11 2013

Greetings from scenic Buttonwillow, just east of the I-5. I'm driving to San Diego from San Francisco and I don't like trying to do it in a day, so here I am at a Motel Six, where the sheets are clean, the air conditioner is loud enough to drown out the trucks zooming up the freeway and there's a pupuseria next door. I find places like this pretty fascinating, actually. All these little farm towns and pit stops for travelers and truckers. A great location for some kind of suspense sequence, I'm thinking.

But I'm not here to write about Buttonwillow, or even Coalinga! No, I'm going to talk a little about the Chinese phenomena of "shanzhai." -- 山寨。"Shanzhai" literally means "mountain fastness, a fortified mountain village." Colloquially it means "outside of government supervision," and "pirated or knockoff."

Shanzhai products in China are legion. Everything from fake iPhones to entire fake Apple stores.

(Starbucks knockoffs are a particular favorite)

But in China shanzhai goes way beyond fake brands or phony stores. In China, we have entirely pirated cities! 

Here's a place I visited outside of Shanghai called "Thames Town." It is an almost deserted subdivision that seems to get the most use as a location for wedding photo shoots. 

 (A nice day for a red wedding)

Not too far away from Thames Town is a fake Swedish town -- I can't remember the exact name but I think it translates to "Northern European Style Village." 

Also close to Shanghai is an entire "Little Paris," complete with Eiffel Tower. Do check out this amazing photo essay--here's a sample: 

There are so many shanzhai developments like this in China that it's hard to keep track of them all. But so far the winner has to be the Chinese real estate developers who duplicated the entire Austrian town of Halstatt. 

Then there's the plan to duplicate Manhattan just outside of Tianjin. The city, Yujiapu, would serve as a new financial center for a new China. It's one of the largest construction sites in the world and includes replicas of Lincoln and Rockefeller Centers. But with the slowdown in China's economy, the success of this massive project is far from assured. And if it doesn't succeed? A Manhattan-sized ghost town of half-completed skyscrapers probably isn't going to get much use as a location for wedding photo shoots.

Who dunnit?

I'm just going to say right off the bat that I'm not going to talk about Edward Snowden and his somewhat bizarre decision to seek asylum in Hong Kong, which is still a part of China, "two systems" or not, and how China has even more pervasive surveillance than the United States with no legal restraints on how it's used.


It would lead me to talking about how the institution of universal surveillance with questionable oversight and weakened legal protection is probably not a way that we should want the United States to emulate China. How according to someone who should know, Ai Weiwei*, the United States is doing precisely that, except that our citizens live under a rule of law that shields us from the worst impulses of the state.

*Chinese contemporary artist who helped design the Bird's Nest stadium in Beijing and later ended up getting a hood over his head at the Beijing Capital Airport and dragged off to a semi-legal three month detention. The charges brought afterwards were tax evasion

Then, how the erosion of our Constitutional principles and the outsized influence of money in our political system is leading the US ever further down a road of increasingly seamless integration of state and corporate influences, where profit is the ruling principle, and power is only limited by the amount of it one has and one's willingness to use it. But if I say stuff like that without presenting some evidence, I worry about sounding like a candidate for a Reynolds Wrap chapeau.

And, I just read this very interesting and persuasive article about how metadata is a means of social engineering that could be used as "a tool for a plutocracy." For example, your opinions, buying habits and tax bracket might make getting credit just slightly more difficult. Or slightly more expensive.

The author of this particular piece is Jaron Lanier, an American computer scientist and internet visionary who popularized the phrase, "Virtual reality," and has written critically of "Web 2.0." Among other things, he refers to the so-called "Wisdom of Crowds" as "Digital Maoism," which is the kind of thing that I would like to say but fear would get me labeled as an out-of-touch elitist. 

But I'll say that there's a problem with creating "all the infrastructure a tyrant would need" and "counting on having angels in office," as this cogent piece in The Atlantic puts it:

...we're allowing ourselves to become a nation of men, not laws. Illegal spying? Torture? Violating the War Powers Resolution and the convention that mandates investigating past torture? 

No matter. Just intone that your priority is keeping America safe. Don't like the law? Just get someone in the Office of Legal Counsel to secretly interpret it in a way that twists its words and betrays its spirit. 

You'll never be held accountable.

And, that what I'm thinking lately is, if you want to understand what has happened to the American economy and why we are where we are politically, approach it like a murder mystery. 

In a murder mystery, somebody gets killed, and the central question is motivation. 

Who benefits?

And, oh yeah, I have a new book out.

Mystic Yeast!

It's a little over a week till my next book launches, and I'm kinda crazed. This will be my third published book, so the process is sort of familiar but still new enough to be pretty, well, new! And the whole thing is kind of overwhelming.

So right now I have the brain space of a caffeinated flea. Meaning that....

It's time for more Chinese signs!

           Seen at the Qingdao Beer factory...I want a T-shirt!                              

Strange stones indeed! (click to embiggen)

Because you don't want to be pulled over by a cartoon policeman

"Eating the World-Wide Delicious!" (click to embiggen)

 I promise, I will sidewalk! 

And I won't occupy while stabling.

 But would you want to live there?

This sign means, "Be Careful When Tossing Food to the Gulls," I think. 

I am not sure what "mew" has to do with it.

Yes, this is what you think.

The Train! The Train!

I have an arm injury that makes driving uncomfortable (Also typing, thus my photo-heavy posts as of late). So, when I needed to go to the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books recently, I took the new Exposition Line from my friend's house to get there.

What a revelation! Instead of fighting traffic and searching for expensive parking, I rode in a shiny new light rail that dropped me off at the USC campus for $1.50. It was a wonderful way to experience Los Angeles. I lived in LA for over 25 years, and I keep thinking about what a huge difference having an actual transit system like this would make for the city. Suddenly it feels more accessible. More tied-together.

To get back to San Francisco, I took Amtrak's Coast Starlight train.

Amtrak gets a bad rap, which I feel is not entirely fair. Okay, not fair at all. The problem with Amtrak is that as a country, we do not fund it adequately. We subsidize driving in all kinds of ways, but the idea of a national rail system sends some people into screaming fits about socialism. I've ridden a lot of trains in other countries, and it's absurd to me that the US doesn't take more pride into supporting and expanding rail. There's no better way to get from city to city, and no better way to actually see a country than to ride its trains.

The Coast Starlight is a spectacular ride. Once you head north out of Los Angeles, the route hugs the coast, at times so close to the ocean that it feels like you can dangle your feet in the waves:

The route roughly parallels the 101, so after a time you head inland, through the Middle Kingdom around Paso Robles and San Luis Obispo:

Past San Luis Obispo, you experience some of California's agricultural and industrial heartland:

You get to experience all this sitting in comfortable coach seats (way more room than the cattle car ambiance of most air trips these days) or hanging out in the observation car, where strangers will ask you if you want to share their bottle of wine, or in the dining car, where you get to eat decent meals with real silverware. If you're lucky enough to travel first class, you have your own compartment (I'm doing this, I swear).

You ride the train, you can read a book. Take a nap. Stroll to the observation car. Visit the snack car, where the Amtrak worker announces over the PA that "there's pizza and beer, come on down!"
If you choose to eat in the dining car, you share a table with other travelers. This can be a mixed experience. But it's never boring.

During lunch, one of my table mates said something that I found pretty profound:

"Other forms of travel take time. This gives you time."

She was so right.

Greetings from Puerto Vallarta...

(Originally posted 4/7/13 at Murder Is Everywhere...)

One of the donkeys who lives on the arroyo went missing again. This seems to happen nearly every time I visit Puerto Vallarta. The donkey escapes, runs through the neighborhood. Or disappears for a much longer period. This time poor Andale was gone for more many months, and when he reappeared (or was found, I’m not sure which), he was emaciated and dehydrated. The theory is, he was stolen and forced to work, and then abandoned when he became more trouble than they felt he was worth. He’s getting shots from a vet and extra food, courtesy of my friend who lives in PV in a house by the arroyo.

The donkeys are kind of a pain in the ass, in that one of them starts braying at unexpected intervals in the middle of the night – an incredibly loud “Hawww-HEEE-hawww-HEEE-hawww,” trailing off into a sort of exasperated donkey grumble. Maybe he’s complaining about his job. This is the other donkey, not the one who went missing this time, who works entertaining tourists at one of the bars on Olas Altas. I imagine that could get pretty irritating.

But I like the donkeys (I will not say the same of the roosters – note to those not familiar with roosters – they do not just crow at dawn – or the semi-feral Chihuahua pack that lives in the house behind this one). They are a part of what makes Vallarta, Vallarta. The city still manages to be itself in spite of the condos, the time shares, the all-inclusive resorts. It’s a tourist town, to be sure, and an expat Mecca, but it’s also a Mexican town. One of these places that exists in two worlds. A liminal zone.

I try to come here once a year. I’ve found that I like to do that with some places. See them regularly, get to know them, without the familiarity of a resident, to be sure, but with greater intimacy than a tourist. To mark what changes, and what stays the same. I go to China every year, and I almost always fly in and out of Beijing, and spend a few days there. I couldn’t write a series set in Beijing if I didn’t do this – the city changes so quickly.

So, coming here, people have asked, “Are you writing a sequel?” – I wrote a book set in Vallarta called GETAWAY that was published last year. I am, I tell them, but so far it doesn’t take place in Vallarta.

Some people wonder why I come, then. They especially wonder given the book that I wrote, which is a tale of a Vallarta vacation gone horribly wrong. “I’m a little too nervous to go to Mexico,” one told me. The drug war violence has scared a lot of people away.

There are a lot of ways to reply to this. First, the book I wrote is fiction. I usually start with that. I’m writing suspense novels, so things have to go horribly wrong, by definition. I do try to base what I write on some degree of truth, however. So, yes, there’s a drug war going on in Mexico, and it’s caused a tremendous amount of damage and an appalling number of deaths. But you don’t see this part in a place like Vallarta. Most of the violence is concentrated in border areas and in places where rival cartels contend for control.

Vallarta, traditionally, has been mostly peaceful. As long as you are not actively involved in dangerous activities, this is a safe place to vacation and to live. I’ve heard more than once, “this is a vacation town, for the cartels too.” And, more importantly, this is a “lavanderia” – a place to launder money. The confluence of entertainment venues and hot real estate make it ideal.

You look at some of those blaring discos on the Malecón, some of those massive condo projects that seem to spring out of nowhere, and you wonder: who’s paying for this? And why?

Here, everyone knows. 

“A lot of resort towns have that history, if you look,” a friend remarked at dinner last night. “I mean, Las Vegas. Atlantic City. The Catskills – that place was funded by bootleggers.”

If you look underneath the surface of just about anywhere, you’ll find all kinds of things.

There are societies that are more and that are less corrupt, to be sure. In the United States, most of us go about our daily activities with the expectation that people will be honest with each other, that contracts will be fulfilled. For all the loathing of Congress as an institution right now, for example, most people will say positive things about their individual representatives. Our society largely works well on that level, on the institutions both public and private that we encounter in our daily lives.

But look a little further. A little deeper. And not even very deep. I think about the financial crisis, the speculative activities that fueled it. You can call it incompetence, to be sure, but when the bankers and hedge fund managers who committed the damage get off with their careers and their bonuses intact, while millions of us lose jobs and houses and savings, you have to start calling it something else. Class warfare, maybe. Oligarchy. Plutocracy.

Or, simply, corruption. Corruption takes many forms, not all of which are as direct as a local cop demanding a mordita.

When you have the power, the money, to have laws written to your benefit, what do you call that?

So, greetings from beautiful Puerto Vallarta. I’m about ready to hit the beach, and have a margarita.

A bunch of crime fiction writers walk into a bar...

(originally published on "Murder is Everywhere")

Writers spend a lot of time alone. Most of us are introverts to some degree — you almost have to be, to deal with the solitary nature of the gig, to spend that much time in your head. But many of us also need our social outlets —and there's nothing like the chance to spend a few days with other members of your tribe.

The crime fiction community is fortunate to have a number of annual conventions, gatherings of writers and readers. What these events seem to have in common is that they all center around the hotel bar. I'm not suggesting that all writers drink a lot, but I think it's safe to say that most writers drink some. And drinking or not, the hotel bar is where you go to socialize.

(bar food at Left Coast Crime Colorado)

I just got back from Left Coast Crime, one of the two annual events I attend. The other is Bouchercon, the Big Kahuna of crime fiction conferences. Bouchercons typically bring in 1500+ attendees: authors, readers, publishers, agents, editors, reviewers, librarians and sales reps. Left Coast Crime is a more intimate affair, but equally professional in its organization and execution.

This year, Left Coast was in Colorado Springs, at the lovely Cheyenne Mountain Resort. This was the view from my window the first day of the conference:

This is a little misleading, because if you turn to your left, you'd see a really huge golf course (winter brown at least) and a bunch of "ranchettes." But still a beautiful setting.

So, a crime fiction conference -- what do you do?

There are panels to attend, on topics ranging from forensics to writing other cultures, to discussions on genre, on using social media, on cold cases, panels on craft, panels on marketing. 

(Panel:"The Character, The 'Why' in Mystery," featuring Jeanne Matthews, Terry Shames, David...crap, I'm really sorry I'm spacing on his name, cause he was an interesting guy, Shannon Baker, hello, I can't remember her name either, and she's also not in my conference program, and likewise had a lot of interesting things to say, plus moderator Robert Kresge, not pictured)

I was on two panels, "International Intrigue" and "What You Don't Know About Thriller Writers." Both were a blast. But as one of my fellow panelists said to me on the last night of the conference, "It's not about the panels. It's about...this!" An expansive wave around the bar. 

Even at this late hour, on the last night of the conference, there were groups of attendees moving chairs to make larger circles around tables, clustered in twos and threes around the bar, some going from group to group to chat with old friends and to make new ones. 

Yeah, I realize this all sounds pretty corny. But it's true. 

The first day of the conference, some of my fellow Los Angeles Sisters and Misters in Crime took an excursion to the Garden of the Gods. Beautiful...

But of course, what made it especially fun was the company...

(We Might Be Rock Stars)

The conference ran from Thursday through Sunday. On Saturday, a good-sized storm came through Colorado. Again, the view from my window:

(cold, white stuff falling from the sky)

By Sunday, the view looked like this:

(cold, white stuff no longer falling from the sky, but sticking to the ground)

Going to wonderful events like this and getting to hang out with people with whom I have so much in common, as a writer and as a reader, is really one of the best perks of this author gig. I'm very psyched that I still have Bouchercon to look forward to this year. And next year's Left Coast Crime is in gorgeous Monterey, CA! And the US Guest of Honor is none other than....(drumroll)...our own Cara Black! 

The rest of the line-up is equally epic.

Yes, I've already registered.

Always going somewhere...

(originally appeared on March 3, on Murder is Everywhere)

A couple of years ago, my life changed pretty dramatically. I left the job I'd had for over a decade. I sold a novel. I sold a couple more. Finally, I sold my house. That last one was pretty traumatic. I'd lived in Venice Beach for 25 years, in a grand total of two places.

And I had a lot of books.

(a portion of the Great Wall of Books)

As much as I love to travel, I hate to move. I'm not sure why. We moved a lot when I was a kid, that might be part of it. The rest of it, I'm not sure. I like wandering around my neighborhood. Walking to shops. Saying "hi" to people who work in them, people I've gotten to know. Having "my" places. My regular dates with friends. 

Maybe a part of why I love to travel is the looking forward to returning home. 

But "home" was a luxury that I knew I'd have to give up for a while. Selling the house was a long, sort of awful process. It took three offers before one stuck. And then it was time to pack. 

And pack.

And pack.

(did I mention that I have a lot of books?)

In spite of all the preparation I'd done, I had very little time to actually pack up and move. I never would have made it without the help of some very good friends. The whole experience instilled in me a horror of having Too Much Stuff, ever again. 

The day before escrow closed, the movers came, loaded up all my belongings in preparation for a drive to Northern California, where a reasonable storage space just south of San Francisco awaited. I'd decided to delay getting a new place, to take a break from the responsibility of all that. Instead I'd take some time to get another book or two in the pipeline, save some money, look around, figure out where I really wanted to be, and what was practical with this writing life.

So, two days later, I loaded up the Mini Cooper

. 

(you can fit a lot in a Mini Cooper)

And drove north to San Francisco.

From San Francisco I went to China.

From China, back to San Francisco for a couple of days, passed through Los Angeles and then on to San Diego for a month.

(Martin Luther King Day parade in San Diego)

And from San Diego, back up to San Francisco, via Los Angeles.

I'm in San Francisco now. In a couple of weeks, I'll head to Colorado for Left Coast Crime. After that, to Puerto Vallarta for a week, where the perfect writing studio awaits (and perhaps a few margaritas). 

Then to Los Angeles and San Francisco for some period of days, including the book launch for Dana Fredsti's PLAGUE NATION (!).

And then to San Diego for the greater part of two months.

After that? Not sure. I'll have some book events for the launch of my newest, HOUR OF THE RAT (details on those to come). Some research trips for the books I'm working on after those. I'll try to float till the end of the year, if I can stand it. If the people I'm staying with in some of these various places can stand me. 

Or, if the part of me that loves this floating life wins out over the part that misses my cats (happy in their foster homes, but still) and my furniture. The art that hung on my walls. And of course, my books. I may never want to have too much stuff again, but I'm not going to pretend I don't have attachments.

This kind of lifestyle feels pretty weird to me at my age. The closest I can come to it would be back when I was in college, and immediately after. When I had very few responsibilities. When I could choose to go anywhere, and I ended up in Switzerland, China, and then Los Angeles. Where I stayed, for 25 years.

But I'm not a college kid. That was *cough* a lot of years ago. I swing back and forth between feeling a little panicked, a lot unsettled. 

And sometimes, free.

Like, I could go anywhere. Anywhere at all. The possibilities stretch out in front of me. I just have to pick the next one. 

Istanbul. Patagonia. Asmara. Belize.

I only know that there's an expiration date, too. But right now, I don't know when that is. 

I guess none of us do, when it comes right down to it.

Lisa -- Sunday...