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On the Trail of US Presidents

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In September, we took one of our Midwest driving trips, visited many (23) friends and family along the way, and made several new tourist stops. These included two sites established to commemorate U.S. Presidents who fought for their country: The Eisenhower National Historic Site outside Gettysburg, Pa., and Indiana’s Tippecanoe Battlefield, where President William Henry Harrison made his mark on U.S. military history.

You may wonder why Ike, our 34th President, settled in the rolling hills of rural Pennsylvania. “Hey, wait, wasn’t he born in Texas?” “Didn’t he grow up in Kansas?” You’re right! But, after his presidency, he settled near Gettysburg. His ancestors had lived in Central Pennsylvania, and I believe the park ranger said that, as a child, Ike spent a lot of time there. Also, in retirement, he was still consulting with the government, and the farm was a (relatively) short commute to D.C.

So, that’s why. Now to the what. The farm is a beautiful piece of property and, when the Eisenhowers bought it in 1950, it included a smallish house that had to be rebuilt. More than most historic houses, this one is filled with the Eisenhowers’ own furnishings and decorations (a lot of “Mamie pink”). We saw the sunporch where the couple reportedly ate their dinners on tv trays, watching the evening news (!). The house had generous accommodations for guests, and an office for Ike that couldn’t have been larger than 8’ x 10’. Here, the Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Forces, who directed the Normandy landings on D-Day, carried out his work, modestly and efficiently.

You can tour the house and grounds, garage (presidential limousine!), barns, and the farm he and his partners established that raised prize-winning Black Angus cattle.

And, if you also want to tour the battlefield while you’re there (which we have done numerous times, not this trip), the downtown Hotel Gettysburg is a lovely spot.

The Tippecanoe Battlefield and Museum is a national historic landmark a little over an hour northwest of Indianapolis. At 96 acres, it’s small (much smaller than Ike’s farm!). On 7 November 1811, a decisive battle occurred there between U.S. forces and the Native American Confederation and a bloody prelude to the War of 1812.

The Americans were led by William Henry Harrison, later elected the ninth U.S. President—the last one born as a British subject. He died of a fever after only one month in office. (We’ve seen his monument outside Cincinnati.)

The Native Americans were a large, multi-tribal community led by the famous Shawnee chief Tecumseh and his younger brother Tenskwatawa, called The Prophet. The brothers, who had seen Natives repeatedly displaced from their homelands to the east, vociferously advocated that they reject European ways and return to a traditional lifestyle.

Tecumseh traveled to the South in 1811 to recruit more allies for the confederation and warned his brother not to attack the encroaching U.S. military forces until he returned. On the fateful day, the Prophet nevertheless ordered a pre-dawn attack. The Natives were defeated, their community destroyed, and their hope of continued settlement in the Great Lakes Region went down with them. In retaliation, Tecumseh sided with the British against the Americans in the War of 1812.

Adjacent to the Battlefield, the Tippecanoe County Historical Association operates a small museum with thoughtful displays that put the battle in context.

Two very different historical sites. Both well worth a visit!

Why the Media Are Failing Us

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Back sometime before the Dark Ages, when I was in journalism school, we thought of the news business and the entertainment business as separate entities—the difference between Walter Cronkite and Star Trek. Now the line between the two is increasingly blurred. So when we say “media” today, we cannot mean only the NewsBiz. Americans are influenced by the entertainment and infotainment they watch, just as they are by the “straight” news. And they watch waaaay more of the former.

Financial analysts estimate news and entertainment—collectively, the “media”—is a $3.04 trillion international enterprise. It includes news outlets, as well as digital media [television, music and radio, etc.], streaming services, and more. In many ways, the business models for news and entertainment are similar, with revenues coming from advertising, customer payments, and licensing deals. They also are subject to the same regulatory regimes: the FCC (federal communications commission) and FTC (federal trade commission).

In those days of yore, Americans got their news from a few standard outlets: local newspapers and broadcast television. Because many people in a community read the same newspapers and mostly watched one of the same television networks (originally three—NBC, CBS, and ABC), they tended to share a perspective on events, even though there were some difference among them. Local media helped establish a sense of community, a feeling that “Things may be bad, but we’re all in this together.”

In a big city with more than one daily newspaper, one might be identified as Republican and the other as Democratic. In Detroit, where I grew up, there was the Detroit News (or as my parents called it, the Nixon News) and the Detroit Free Press. The Detroit News, like many other big-city newspapers is no more; the Free Press no longer publishes daily, and there isn’t home delivery every day. If you’re out and about, you can snag one from a vendor standing in major intersections. New Jersey, the nation’s most densely populated state, has no daily newspaper in any major city, not even the state capital. For most New Jerseyans, news is online only.

More than 1,800 US cities and towns have lost their newspapers in the past 20 years (60 dailies and 1700 weeklies); 1300 of these outlets were in metropolitan areas. Over the past 15 years, total weekday newspaper circulation has declined from 122 million to 73 million. Rural areas and small towns have been hardest hit by the loss of local news, but numerous major US cities no longer have a daily newspaper. These include Pittsburgh, New Orleans, and Tampa. Most recently, the 157-year-old Atlanta Journal-Constitution announced it’s abandoning its print edition. Those newspapers still publishing are shrinking, due to a loss of revenue from advertisers and subscribers. They’ve become shadows of their former selves, “ghost newspapers.”

Today, online media are filling the gap. Online newspapers cannot provide the depth of coverage of print. Stories are shorter and may lack helpful context. Reporters are fewer and generally less experienced. In online sources, the line between news and entertainment is especially fuzzy. Digital formats had a 45% media and entertainment market share in 2024. And it’s growing, in part at the expense of traditional media.

For where this economic sector is going, look to the investment firms. The fragmented media market poses a challenge to investors, just as it challenges responsible citizenship and social cohesion.

According to Standard and Poors, advertising is healthy in digital platforms, as advertisers shift their money from legacy media to digital; linear television (which follows a schedule, as opposed to on-demand streaming) at the national level, as well as radio, are struggling for advertising dollars. Only sports programming keeps this sector afloat.

The diversity of media in this new landscape leads to further splintering. The days are over when everyone watched the same programs, listened to the same news, and gained something of a shared perception of their community, the country, its strengths and its problems. That’s not to say that the media world of the last mid-century was perfect, but the results of this splintering are all around us. And we haven’t even discussed the impact of social media yet.

Merging Media Streams

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An article by John Koblin in yesterday’s New York Times says the days of separate subscriptions to multiple tv streaming service are waning. It’s just too complicated, too many passwords, too much keeping track. As a result, the bigger players are bundling popular services. Viewers need only one interface to find shows and movies on many different channels. For example, Amazon Prime Video users can watch HBO Max, Paramount+, etc.; Apple and other services are riding the aggregating train too.

According to research Koblin cites, nearly a third of all new streaming subscriptions are bought in bundles. So? And this will come as no surprise—media, tech, and cable companies are fighting to be the preferred one-stop shop. Media companies can offload marketing and other costs to the bundler. But they get smaller revenues because of the bundler’s cut. Amazon, for example, keeps from thirty to fifty percent of the subscription revenue. Netflix, as the largest subscription-supported company, with a wide variety of its own content, hasn’t needed to play with the bundlers so far.

I’ll have my eye out for where the streaming service MHz may land. We subscribe to it directly (along with a number of unbundled others, probably insanely duplicative). MHz offers foreign and international films and television series, usually with subtitles. We joined because it carries the whole Detective Montalbano series, set in Sicily. If you’ve missed this show, I’m sorry. A digression here: the producers scoured Sicily’s community theaters for good character actors. As a result, all the small parts (the landlady, the vamp, the car mechanic) are brilliant additions to the recurring cast.

We’ve watched the detective show Makari (Sicily again), and have started Imma Tataranni about a female deputy prosecutor in Calabria. All three shows have some over-the-top characters. They do involve murders but aren’t especially gory, and they include a fair bit of humor, created mostly by human ridiculousness, not snarky one-liners.

Another favorite is the French show, The Art of Crime, featuring a young Parisian police detective in the art crimes unit. He knows nothing about art (and cares less) and is teamed up with a young woman who works at the Louvre who knows everything and cares passionately. In a clever move, the artist involved (Leonardo da Vinci, Botticelli, etc.) “visits” the woman and they have interesting conversations. Weirdly charming. Her father is an eccentric Andy Warhol look-alike. We watched two episodes of the UK knock-off, Art Detectives, and weren’t impressed. In that one, the man is the art expert and the woman a former patrol officer. She’s smart, but most definitely second-fiddle. (Says a lot, right there.) No humor to speak of. We’re cutting our losses.

Whether you regard your televiewing as a buffet—one of this, one of that—or a full course meal of bundled choices, happy watching!

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Every Word’s a Choice – Part 4 — Verbs (Still) Do the Heavy Lifting

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Here’s more on how choosing strong verbs can bring your story alive.

Does your character merely walk into a room? How does he walk in? You can make his style of entry specific and more visual by adding an adverb:
            He walked slowly into the room.
            She walked briskly into the room.
Better yet, choose a strong verb—one that works harder for you.
            He can stroll, sashay, amble, stagger, or trudge into the room.
            She can stride, race, march, skip, or strut.

Characters can hike, parade, saunter, shuffle, step, skip, wander, lope, meander, plod, shamble, hustle, and on and on. It all depends on who they are and what they may expect to find in that room. A teenage boy about to be called to task for denting the family Buick will enter the living room where his father waits very differently than would his sister who just won the school spelling bee. Personally, I’d like to see a character who scuttles into a room, but I haven’t yet written about a scuttler.

Try this
Think about how you might replace the pedestrian verbs in the following sentences with something more interesting. In some cases, tighten up the wording or remove unnecessary filter verbs (like “see,” “hear,” etc.). These sentences aren’t wrong. They’re just not as interesting as they might be. And a whole book of not very interesting sentences ends up being a not very interesting book. Here’s an example of verb replacement: The cat was in a square of bright light. You might replace “was” with “sunned.”

Your turn:
He said that was great. (Hint: take out a couple of words.)
That bullet was much too close for comfort.
From the living room, I heard a great crash.
My glasses, broken in the fall, were in my jacket pocket.
I saw she was much too sunburned to have spent the day at the library.

Let’s look at a few of the verbs in our song (discussed in Part 2 of this series and linked again here). Right away, in the first line you’ll see a “was,” but there’s also a “carried,” which is an action you can picture and a “lived,” (a verb full of life). Strong and evocative verbs in the song include: “stopped rambling,” “marched me away,” “sailed off”—sounds like a lark, doesn’t it?—“stained,” “butchered,” “corpses piled” (no burial niceties). The Australian soldiers “sailed off” but, once wounded, were “shipped” back home, like cargo.

One thought to bear in mind. Words have their usual, literal meaning, but they also carry secondary meanings. “Stained” is a good example. You can understand this verb as merely discoloration of the sand and water, but it also carries—maybe even subconsciously—the implication of shame or something dishonorable: “a stain on one’s reputation.” A stain is almost never a good thing. “Butchered” is another example. While it could just mean killed, in this context, it conjures up another, more powerful meaning—that of “indiscriminate slaughter.” Especially the choice of “like lambs to the slaughter,” with lambs being a symbol of “innocence.”

And, of course, readers bring their own context to a story and the words in it. While we all can be moved by the “lambs to the slaughter” image, the mother or brother of someone slain in war would hear it quite differently.

Like everyone, I have a few writing pet peeves, nails on the blackboard kind-of-things. They include the verbs “get” and “got.” I eliminate them as relentlessly as I chase down a wasp in the house. They’re perfectly fine words, but they mean so many things! Scroll down the list of definitions [https://www.dictionary.com/browse/get], and see for yourself. When you find one of them in your story, it’s an opportunity to identify a more precise verb!

Next Tuesday: Adjective and Adverbs
Part 1: Introduction to “ Every Word’s a Choice”—finding the best words to tell your story. The series is based on a talk I recently gave at a writers’ conference. https://vweisfeld.com/?p=11484
Part 2:  Using effective nouns to establish a relationship with readers. https://vweisfeld.com/?p=11501
Part 3: A strong verb can do a lot for your story. https://vweisfeld.com/?p=11536

Jewels of Scandal and Desire

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For a long time, I’ve had the glimmer of an idea for a story about a jeweler for British royalty. You’ll remember how Elizabeth II always wore a lovely pin on her jacket when she was out in public. Somebody must have made them, cleaned them, repaired them. And somebody must have thought about ways to steal them. Somebody besides me, that is.

You can imagine how my interest was piqued by an American Ancestors program “Jewels of Scandal & Desire: British Jewelry Collections and Country Houses,” hosted by Curt DiCamillo, an authority on British historic houses and the decorative arts. He has actually seen some of that jewelry up close, in museum exhibits and when he was presented to the late Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother, and The Prince of Wales.

No doubt this is a topic that could have a month’s worth of lectures, and in an hour he had to just hit the highlights and, in some cases, the lowlights of gems among the British royalty. Here are a few anecdotes.

DiCamillo began with Daisy Fellowes, heiress to the Singer sewing fortune. She had an unhappy life, but she did have fabulous jewelry, including the tutti-frutti necklace pictured above with 4500 emeralds, as well as rubies and sapphires, designed by Cartier and now in the Cartier Collection. Cartier also made the spectacular tiara owned by Lady Hugh Montagu Allan (above), who was aboard the Lusitania in 1915 when it was struck by a German torpedo and sunk. One of her maids saved the tiara and Lady Allan was badly injured, but her two daughters were among the 1,150 people lost.

The Earl and Countess of March were tied up for perhaps twelve hours in early 2016 when thieves invaded Goodwood House in West Sussex. They stole jewelry that was not only valuable in monetary terms, but the haul included an emerald and diamond ring King Charles II had given to one of his French mistresses, an ancestor of the Earl. A stolen tiara, containing hundreds of diamonds, was probably disassembled, Di Camillo said. Such pieces are almost never recovered, because loose diamonds are much harder to identify and easier to sell.

While diamonds are often the most prized of the four main gemstones, they’re actually the least valuable. Most valuable are emeralds, followed by rubies, sapphires, and then diamonds. DiCamillo says De Beers has millions of diamonds in warehouses that they don’t release; by limiting availability, they keep the prices high. In the 1700s, diamonds had been found only in India. In the 1800s, they were discovered in Brazil and, later, in South Africa and Russia, so are not as rare as one might think.

A hundred years ago, Margaret Whigham Campbell, Duchess of Argyll, was considered the best-dressed woman in the world. She lived quite a scandalous life and had numerous lovers. She even made it into a Cole Porter song. But in 1943 she fell 40 feet down an elevator shaft. Although she recovered, she permanently lost her sense of smell. She and the Duke of Argyll lived in beautiful Inverara Castle (where some Downton Abbey scenes were filmed). Alas, in 1954, her jewelry was stolen by cat burglars and never recovered. Eventually the Duke divorced her for infidelity (he was no peach, either). Once at the top of society, she died in a nursing home in 1992.

Lots of good stories could be spun from these little episodes, but they all seem to carry the same message: “wealth does not guarantee happiness.”

What Did You Say Your Name Is?

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An interest in family history has led me down many intriguing paths and arcane byways. Naturally, my interest was piqued by a recent story in Natural History magazine by Samuel M. Wilson, “How Surnames Came to Be.” Do you know the origins of your surname? Enter it here and find out its original meaning and where people with your surname live all around the world .

My father was the child of Hungarian immigrants, and their five sons spelled the last name variously as Hegyi, Hedge, Hegge, and Hadde. It took ages for me to find my grandfather on a ship manifest, because he spelled it using the Latin spelling, Heggus. I’d forgotten that Latin was the official language of Hungary until the mid-1800s. The name attracts some jokesters too, as the picture attests.

My mother’s family isn’t necessarily easier to research. Her father’s last name, Edwards, is straightforward, but surnames on both sides of her family have inspired creative spelling: Woollen, Standifer, McClure. You have to take into consideration that even into the mid-1800s, many Americans could not read or write, and the clerks who recorded their names in church records, land transactions, and court documents relied on phonetic approximation. And maybe they didn’t hear so good, either.

Though some small and remote societies today still do not use surnames, Wilson says the earliest English efforts to develop them began about a thousand years ago. The kings wanted to identify all their subjects in order to levy taxes (a fine old governmental preoccupation). There, and elsewhere in Europe, surnames were often created from where the person lived: a town name or “Ford,” “Wood,” “Hill.” I have friends with all those names. “De Bilt” is a town in the Netherlands where the Vanderbilt family originated. Some names, like Wright, Cooper, Smith, etc., referred to a profession.

Often the last name started out as a patronymic, indicating who the father was: Johnson, Carlsen, Wilson, and so on. The prefixes Mac, Mc, O’ and Fitz also originally indicated “son of,” as, did the suffixes -ez in Spanish, -ski in Poland, and -vich in Russian. Some languages use a slightly different naming convention for daughters. In Scandinavia, you’d find Lavransdottir, and in Poland Kowalska, -not ski. In Slavic languages, a son of Ivan might have the surname Ivanov, and his sister the surname Ivanova. Of course, she may lose that distinction when she marries.

When populations become big enough, too many people with the same name can be confusing. The United States has more than three million living males named John. Perhaps reflecting the higher-born’s more frequent interaction with the authorities, Wilson writes, “In all known cases, [adopting surnames] began with the highest ranking tiers of society.” You may recall how in Tudor history, a Duke like Norfolk would be called Norfolk and also referred to by his family name Howard. Very confusing. Patterns of giving sons in multiple generations the same names mostly confound genealogists (me!), though sometimes the repetition suggests the Arthur you found is indeed from a family peppered with Arthurs.

I was interested to learn that some countries (Denmark, Germany), have approved lists of gender-specific first names. In Germany the name cannot be “the name of a product or common object, and cannot be a surname.” No Moon Unit Zappas there.

Finally, a recent New Yorker article about retiring meatpacking district business owner John T. Jobbagy (pronounced Joe-bagee) notes that Jobbagy is Hungarian, like my dad’s family, and you know that instantly because the surname ending in “agy.” Apparently all such surnames, like Nagy, are Hungarian. Who knew?

“Heat of the Moment”

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Erica Rivas, Wild Tales
Érica Rivas in Wild Tales

Malcolm Gladwell—always thought-provoking—recently reviewed the new book Unforgiving Places in The New Yorker (9 June), which examines strategies to prevent violent crime. The book’s author, Jens Ludwig, directs the University of Chicago Crime Lab.

Ludwig’s approach divides the phenomenon of gun violence into two main types, each of which has different motivations and modes of prevention. He believes the reason many preventive strategies fail (or fail to explain changes in homicide rates), is that what works for one type of violence doesn’t work for the other.

In general, people vacillate between two major modes of thinking. One is fast, automatic, and intuitive. It’s why Tony shot Maria’s brother Bernardo in West Side Story. Road rage is another example. This quick, unthinking response is what psychologist Daniel Kahneman calls “System 1 thinking.” By contrast, “System 2 thinking” involves deliberation and careful planning in order to gain something—“cash or phone or watch or drug turf.” Often, revenge. And, again in West Side Story, it’s why Chino shoots Tony. The violence associated with System 2 thinking is a means to an end.

Unforgiving Places points out our criminal-justice system has been designed to counter planned and deliberate System 2 crimes, when the real problem is those spontaneous, reactive ones, the homicides that occur in a moment of irrationality. According to FBI data, they account for more than three-fourths of murders committed over the past twenty years. The Chicago Police Department estimates that argumentsare at the root of between 70 and 80 percent of homicides in that city. (Say, between husband and wife, employer and employee, or in the picture from the short Argentinian film “Till Death Do Us Part,” above, even bride and groom.)

Looking back over the crime book reviews I’ve written in the last few months, I find that when gun violence occurred in these stories, it is often of the more deliberate type, because the workings of the perpetrator’s mind are important to the story, the crime’s motivation, and its ultimate solution. But sometimes, both types occur: a spontaneous, “heat of the moment” crime leads to a chain of deliberate cover-up assassinations; or, conversely, tracking down the perpetrators of a well-planned crime leads to a deadly, reactive confrontation. But the two types of violence are definitely bifurcated in the way Ludwig describes, and the distinction between them makes perfect literary sense. Scott Turow’s recent novel, Presumed Guilty, is a good example of a crime thought to be a System 2 crime that turned out to be something very different.

Great New Jersey Theater!

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Some shows you enjoy, some inspire a “meh,” and some occupy a “don’t miss!” category. In our family, Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest is in that last group, and the new production at the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey, which opened Saturday and runs through June 1, knocks it out of the park! STNJ artistic director Brian B. Crowe and the cast reveal and revel in every bit of the penetrating wit that makes this show perennially popular.

The crux of the story is that two young women are determined to marry men with the given name Ernest, a name epitomizing sober seriousness. Unfortunately, they’ve fixed on a pair of society gentlemen of the complete opposite temperament. Neither is named Ernest, though both pretend to be. Even worse, because a man needs certain credentials to marry a society daughter, the origins of one of them are completely unknown. It’s left to dowager Aunt Augusta to get to the bottom of the case, or suitcase, as it were.

While the play is most definitely a comedy, and in this production the audience appreciated the humor immensely, the humor works because of Wilde’s spot-on observations about human behavior at the extremes.

Christian Frost plays Algernon Moncrieff, nephew of Aunt Augusta, and Tug Rice plays Jack Worthing, aspirant to the hand of her daughter, Gwendolen. Not only do these two actors deliver their lines with perfect comic timing, their body language and gestures make the always-slightly-ridiculous situation even more so.

Marion Adler is perfection as the unyielding Lady Augusta Bracknell, with Carolyne Leys her besotted daughter, Gwendolen. She believes all is well with her engagement to Worthing until she meets his hitherto unknown and suspiciously beautiful ward, Cecily Cardew, played by Joyce Meimei Zheng. The two young women immediately feign deep friendship, but you know the claws will come out once the unmasking of the pseudonymous Ernests begins.

In smaller roles, Richard Bourg plays both manservant to Algernon and later to Jack. Though he’s in the background, his reactions to the young people’s shenanigans add a great deal. Alvin Keith plays the country parson being tapped to christen or re-christen the men with new names, and Celia Schaefer plays Miss Prism, tutor to Cecily, who unexpectedly holds the key to the whole dilemma.

The young men may not be Ernests, yet, but they are definitely Earnest when it comes to love!

A word about the set. There are three scenes (Algernon’s flat, Worthing’s country garden, and, finally, his drawing-room), and the design accommodates all three with just enough elegant detail. Delicious costumes and atmospheric lighting effects in the garden scene too. STNJ productions are hosted at Drew University in Madison, N.J. (easily reachable from NYC by train). For tickets, call the box office at 973-408-5600 or visit the Box Office online.

Weekend Movie Pick: The Penguin Lessons

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Although dramatic actors often have trouble with comedy, it’s remarkable how comic actors can do such wonderful jobs with dramatic roles. Think Robin Williams, Steve Carell, Melissa McCarthy. Maybe it’s their timing, or how comfortable they are being “all in,” or how carefully they listen and react, I don’t know. But the chance to see (mostly) comedian Steve Coogan in a straight role was irresistible. You may remember him from his pairing with Rob Bryden in the hilarious “The Trip” series and the lovely The Lost King.

The Penguin Lessons was directed by Peter Cattaneo (The Magpie Murders), and written by Jeff Pope and Tom Michell, based on the book by Michell (see the trailer here). The story recounts Michell’s experience working as an English professor at an upscale boys’ school in Argentina during the harrowing time of the military overthrow and all the “disappearances” of protestors (some 30,000 of whom were never returned to their families, dead or alive). The school, run by a rigid head master (Jonathan Pryce) has a strict “no pets” policy, so when Michell finds himself in possession of a penguin, he has to hide it. But the penguin turns out to be exactly the catalyst that helps everyone to become their better selves—better students, better teachers, better family. When the granddaughter of the school’s housekeeper is kidnapped by the military, the stakes become serious.

The plot isn’t groundbreaking, but it is very soothing and never becomes sappy, as such films so often do. The performances of Coogan and the housekeeper (Vivian El Jaber) feel absolutely real. Björn Gustafsson is a clueless science professor. The penguin is charming.

If you need a break from the news of the day, this is a good one! And, it appears, audiences agree. In case it isn’t showing in your area, I think you can see the whole movie here.

Rotten Tomatoes critics’ rating: 84%; audiences: 94%.

Water Everywhere

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When I opened Janet Rudolph’s fascinating Spring 2025 collection of essays for Mystery Readers Journal—this edition her second on the theme of “London Mysteries,” I was delighted to discover the first one, by Aubrey Nye Hamilton, was “The Lost Rivers of London.” This was a happy coincidence, because my mystery book club this week was set to discuss Rivers of London: Midnight Riot, a 2011 book by Ben Aaronovitch that I listened to a few years ago.

This was one of those books I would never have chosen if I’d realized what it was about, but which I enjoyed immensely—despite myself, you might say. There has been a new book in the series every year since (plus a second in 2011), bringing the series total to 14 so far. I’ve not read another of these urban fantasies, but I did enjoy the first. In it, an apprentice wizard (and London police constable) must figure out why ordinary people are becoming vicious killers, as well as try to broker a peace between two warring gods of the River Thames and their respective families. I recall that the several River gods and their watery relatives were quite entertaining.

Hamilton’s essay describes the 600 km network of rivers that flows mostly invisibly, but sometimes audibly, beneath the city. They are the numerous tributaries of the Thames, and the River Fleet (yellow on the map), for which Fleet Street is named, is the largest. As author Melinda Mullet notes in her MRJ essay, the Charlbert Street Bridge (pictured above) is actually an aqueduct whose enclosed iron pipes carry water from the “lost” Tyburn River (purple on the map) to the lake in Regent’s Park.

Paved over and channeled into drainage pipes, the city’s “lost rivers” now aid its sewage and flood protection systems. Nevertheless, Hamilton notes, “sections of the sewer are often relatively dry and quite safe, if unpleasant, to travel.” This has made it possible for people, for whatever reason, to walk the city easily and invisibly, underground. As this and other essays in the volume attest, crime fiction writers have taken full advantage of this urban feature. In recent years, considerable effort has been directed to restoring and revitalizing these watercourses.

The map shows the lost rivers in color. The white squiggle is the River Thames. Perhaps they do all have distinctive personalities like author Aaronovitch speculates. The currents below the surface.