Author: rchazzchute

Robert Chazz Chute writes full-time from his blanket fort in Other London. The winner of fifteen writing awards, he pens apocalyptic epics with heart and killer crime thrillers with muscle. A graduate of the University of King's College journalism program, he studied book and magazine publishing at the Banff School of Fine Arts. He has worked as a crime reporter, science journalist, editor, book doctor, speechwriter, and magazine columnist.
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The Secret to Superhuman Creativity

Alison Bechdel breaks molds, and I’m here for it. When most people think of graphic novels, The Killing Joke or Watchmen often spring to mind first. Those were epic milestones of a young medium, but this cartoonist takes her creativity beyond old expectations. This is a compelling autobiography told through drawings and sharp observations.

The Secret to Superhuman Strength isn’t about making oneself invulnerable. Bechdel’s quest for health through exercise spans decades, but it’s really about confronting mortality. With humor, honesty, and, most of all, vulnerability, she chronicles her career struggles, personal failings, and a holistic view of her journey. Nothing is off-limits in this auto-biography of an artist pursuing a unique life and achieving success in an underappreciated medium. (Warning: distrust success. From her experience, it looks as exhausting as it is exhilarating, and, of course, it’s fleeting. That artistic struggle doesn’t end.)

If you aren’t already familiar with this celebrated American cartoonist, you’ve probably heard of the Bechdel test. She says now that the test began as a joke, but it spurred serious discussion. Raising awareness of the representation of women, the test is whether at least two female characters in a fictional narrative have a conversation about something other than a man. That’s all I knew of Allison Bechdel before I found The Secret to Superhuman Strength.

Full of wit and wisdom, Bechdel explores her history and those of other artists. For instance, in testing her appetite for self-destruction, she explores how Jack Kerouac’s life ended. Observing her growth through the decades is fascinating as she deals with love, loss, self-doubt, loneliness, and heartbreak. If you’re older, you’ll enjoy the little nostalgic details that cue where she sits in time and place. Her life experience might turn you on to therapy, reading more, daring more, and living more fully.

From skiing to yoga, cycling, karate, and running, Bechdel seems up for anything to make herself stronger. That’s not necessarily where this journey leads. Her quest for athletic excellence and health drew me in. It was her contemplation of Buddhism that gives readers some solace as we shiver in the cold shadow of existential dread.

What is the secret to superhuman creativity?

People talk about talent, but many may not realize how hard the talented have to work. From my own experience and what I glean from Alison Bechdel’s book, the true answer is vulnerability plus attention to detail.

What you call oversharing, I call the muse. Endemic is about a lonely, neurodivergent woman seeking safety and independence amid a plague. My novels are frequently about flawed protagonists searching for revenge and escape. That’s all me in there somewhere, confessing my sins, imagining clever vengeance, and exposing my not-so-secret resentments.

I resonated thoroughly with Alison Bechdel. Her struggle is a struggle we all share. How do we find our way? How can we live longer, better, and more authentically in a world that often values that quest? I admit I’m still struggling with the way-to-die part of the equation. Reading this graphic novel made me feel a little more comfortable with the relentless passage of time, the scary present, and the dark future.

She has other works. Here’s her website. Click here to check it out.

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Bring Back the Fifth Estate

I used to be a journalist, so it’s disappointing to distrust the media as much as I now do. We thought journalism was a noble profession when I was in J-school. Our mission was almost biblical: to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. A fierce critic of the US president, Jim Acosta did that on CNN. His reward is to be moved to a time slot out of prime time. That’s one truth-teller pushed aside, but it’s also a warning to the others: shut up or tone it down. Self-censorship and obeying in advance are dangerous to democracy.

Here’s what reporting looked like from my little corner back in the day:

When I worked in newspapers, people lied to me a lot. When I reported on drug raids, police tried to co-opt me. I didn’t fall for it. Firefighters are great, but when two fire departments nearly burned down the wrong house during a training exercise, I wrote the story. I chronicled the intersection of drug addiction and homelessness in Halifax. Then, I got angry complaints from a compromised party trying to slip the problem under the rug. I wrote as honestly as I could and got angry phone calls in return. I got shouted at a few times and threatened with bodily harm once. A letter to the editor seemed bent on burning me to get me fired. My editors, to their credit, didn’t order me to tone it down. They didn’t say a word to me about it. I wonder if they’d be so protective of their reporters today.

Further evidence on a grand scale:

Much of the mainstream media’s normalization of DJT is unconscionable. I know. He won. Now, his challenge is to lead, and it’s a journalist’s job to question the status quo and report the facts. There are still good journalists, but I don’t know the percentage or ratio. Coverage that conveys facts that result in justified outrage as norms and laws are broken is not biased. It’s doing what it’s supposed to do. Only monarchs can’t be questioned (and that was back when kings and queens beheaded their critics.) Today, we get too many tepid squeaks from mainstream journalists. Don’t leave all the heavy lifting to Jimmy Kimmel.

President Petulance keeps doing questionable, immoral, and imperial shit. Still, It won’t be long before we get another so-called think piece from Slate about how Democrats should have been nicer to right-wing fanatics in Tennessee.

(Hat tip to the Skepticrat Podcast for the second half of that last line.)

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What’s on your Best Books list?

Now that my tropical vacation is over, I’m back to the Arctic winds. I’m almost recovered from that nasty virus, so I’m back to writing. Today, after a glimpse of a Cuban beach, let’s talk about books, especially your best book recommendations.

Cuba, January 2024. Love that sugar sand.

This is a recent view from my front door. We’ve been pummeled by dangerous polar temperatures lately. In the depths of winter, I especially enjoy sitting by the wood stove or in bed and reading a book. Snowstorms outside, a good book, and hot chocolate inside make for an especially cozy reading experience.

Audiobooks keep me occupied while I work out, cycle, or do the dishes. Chirp serves up audiobooks very inexpensively. I listen through Audible, but Spotify has audiobooks now, too. You’ll find lots of classics there.

Here are my Audible stats from 2024. You’ll notice a lot of Denis E Taylor, my new favourite Canadian science fiction author. I especially love his Bobiverse series. The man is a master of the contemplation of sci-fi logistics. His go-to voice actor, Ray Porter, is a great narrator, too. The author’s website dennistaylor.org.

Audible stats for 2024.

I enjoyed going through Mark Manson’s best fiction list. I’d read most of them but found a few missing from my reading history. You might want to check out his website, markmanson.net.

What fiction do you consider essential reading, and what are you reading this weekend?

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FAFO

Recovering from a nasty virus, I’ve had a lot of downtime watching the news. How unfortunate. As a writer of many apocalyptic scenarios, I’ve delved into how civilization in a multitude of ways. In Citizen Second Class, it’s a combination of class warfare, climate change, and financial ruin that brings down the United States. In AFTER Life an This Plague of Days, disease takes the world down. In All Empires Fall, there’s a range of narratives, from alien invasion to an asteroid strike. In Our Alien Hours, you guessed it! Aliens again. But the future is always surprising, isn’t it? Aliens, robots, killer AI and zombies are fun to play with. Paperwork issued by a glowering troll does not good fiction make. It sure doesn’t contribute to the betterment of the world.

When Donald Trump was on the campaign trail, annexing allies and declaring war on Mexico, Greenland, and Panama wasn’t on the table. (Don’t poo-poo or normalize it by saying he doesn’t mean it or that “he didn’t really blah-blah-blah.”) Fueled by anger and fear, President Petulance governs by spite and threats. Meanwhile, the world looks on, somewhat puzzled. His opponent, who proposed policies to assist people in buying their first home, was beaten by an adjudicated rapist and convicted felon who marveled about the size of a golfer’s putter.

The trouble with fiction is that it has to sound real. Apocalyptic non-fiction suffers no such constraints. For instance, the bishop who asked for mercy for the vulnerable in the gentlest way possible was condemned as “nasty.” As Stephen Colbert quipped, “How dare she bring the teachings of Jesus into a church!”

This morning I see reports of American citizens shocked that they’re swept up into ICE raids. Frightened of being abused and deported, many immigrant farm workers aren’t showing up to pick fruit. (Watch for a sharp rise in certain food prices soon. And no, eggs aren’t going to get cheaper.) Today, it’s reported that Native Americans are now being targeted by ICE because they aren’t “real” Americans. They say the concern is that indigenous peoples owe allegiance to their tribes over the American flag. It’s simpler than that, though, isn’t it? They aren’t white, and Christofascism is the order of the day.

There are many terrible changes and horrible possibilities on the horizon, but his followers don’t care. His allies abandon logic and their dignity to excuse every malicious move. What struck me most about the inauguration was that it was not a celebration of a great nation’s peaceful change of power. The tone and content was that of a coronation of a Christlike figure. With all the reins of power in his hands and a conservative Supreme Court bent on allowing just about anything, the United States is not unified. Trump may as well be a king, and he considers many of his constituents the enemy. He is not there to serve all citizens, just the ones who worship and/or flatter him.

This will all change, but not before many are hurt and victimized. Ironically, many of those who voted for him will be the first negatively impacted. For example, he has rolled back disability benefits for veterans and rescinded Biden’s executive order to lower prescription drug prices. He pardoned the J6 rioters who assaulted Capitol Police. I wonder how those assigned to protect federal officials are feeling about that this morning. So much for “Back the Blue.” If you were the officer whose eye was gouged out, how would you feel today?

I will not make a habit of chronicling Donald Trump’s offenses here. You can get that elsewhere in abundance. Mostly, I will sit back, wait, and watch. I am powerless to do much about the future of the world. It’s going to be a difficult four years. Anytime empathy is devalued, we are all diminished in myriad ways. I will say that DJT is a thin-skinned person, a soft and lazy man. He has been propelled to his position because he terrified of appearing weak. His cult, too, is so afraid of looking weak that they embrace being mean. Worse, they call it goodness.

Stay tuned, deny reality, or tune out. Whichever way this goes, we’re all in for a bumpy ride.

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For the love of Stanley Tucci

I have proof She Who Must Be Obeyed is my soulmate: At Christmas, I bought this book for her and she bought a copy for me.

Last year, I rhapsodized about Taste by Stanley Tucci. It’s part memoir, some family history, and delicious Italian recipes. Stanley has a dry wit, a fascinating life and career, and very strong opinions on which shape of pasta should go with what sauce. What I Ate in One Year picks up where Taste left off. It’s a near-daily diary of the trials, tribulations, travel, projects, rewards, and feasts the Internet’s boyfriend is heir to. If you’ve watched his series Searching for Italy, it’s impossible not to hear his dulcet tones as you read. Love that!

Reading this book in Cuba was particularly poignant and pointed. It was poignant because Stanley dwells on his mortality quite a bit. His first wife died of the disease and he is a cancer survivor. Meanwhile, I was far from home, sick and waiting to die by a tropical pool. Weak, cursing, and coughing, I was reminded of my father’s telling of how incredibly ill he was at sea. Flat on his back at the bottom of a fishing trawler in high seas, Dad told me, “First, I was afraid I was going to die. Then I was afraid I wouldn’t.” He survived the seasickness, and I survived my virus. Almost ninety years later, Dad was faced with the same feeling. He chose the needle rather than endure what sadists call “a natural death.” (Jury’s still out on my eventual exit, but I hope I go with the same eagerness and dignity, instead of screaming in childish protest, as is my wont.)

Stanley’s love of food was especially pointed in Cuba because he would starve to death there. When a meal fails to rise to his standards, Stanley refuses to participate in such abominations unto the Lord. He doesn’t hold back, reporting, for instance, that a meal was not just awful, but “fucking awful.” Mostly, he dines very well. As for us on vacation in Cuba, the pork was good a couple of times. Mostly, we survived the week on buttered buns. The buns were good, but I’ve had a much more delicious and authentic Cubano sandwich from Starbucks.

No matter what I ordered on this trip, I couldn’t receive the same thing twice. A cafe bombon was first a delicious ice cream treat (not what I envisioned, but great). Then, it was merely iced coffee. Intrepid and trying again, a cafe bombon became a foamy thing sort of like the first attempt, but without ice. A proper cafe bombon should be an espresso with sweetened condensed milk. (Full details here. You’re welcome.) I finally got a decent cafe bombon when I flew home and made it myself. (Note to self: Learn Spanish before heading south again.)

It’s tempting to say, if you’re traveling to Cuba, bring food. I’m being a little unfair. On my first Cuban trip to a different resort, I enjoyed the meals. Our last meal in Cuba eight years ago turned me on to Italian food. I didn’t think it was special until I savored shrimp on angel hair pasta. This most recent trip was a gastronomic disaster, but the food wasn’t the point of the escape. We got to spend more time with our kids than we get all year, and that was wonderful. The weather was great, and we needed a break. I wish we hadn’t been sick for most of the trip, but I don’t regret going. SWMBO remarked she caught the virus from me, but in deference to my long history of service, devotion, and conviviality, she agreed to never say that again.

Travel and Book Recommendations

If you plan to visit Cuba, the country has a lot of supply problems. For instance, there’s no Kleenex, a fact we lamented deeply as our illness progressed. The staff appreciate over-the-counter medicines that are often unavailable to them. Besides tips, we left the staff a miniature pharmacy. For money, they prefer American dollars, but they graciously accepted our Canadian currency.

Wherever you live, on vacation or hard at work in air traffic control, read Stanley Tucci’s What I Ate in One Year. Okay, maybe not while you’re controlling air traffic, but otherwise, I highly recommend it. I devoured this book in a couple of days. I didn’t want it to end. And I really wanted to devour the great food he wrote about. A person can survive on buttered buns alone, but after a while, you don’t want to.

Home again, I’m back to the business of writing novels. The food tastes even better than I remember. I am grateful.

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The Two Keys to a Great Vacation

One of the pleasures of a vacation is to limit your choices. In our daily lives, we have to make decisions constantly. We have to choose what to do and what to do next. How will we fit in all we’re supposed to do? It often feels like we got too much to cram into our waking hours. Gotta exercise, gotta get groceries, be responsible, shovel snow, pay bills, cook, clean, and deal with a plethora of stimuli (much of it upsetting). The world is a firehose blasting away at the teacup that is your brain. On vacation, all you really have to decide is where and when to eat. Then, it’s that rare and precious commodity: free time.

As reported yesterday, my spouse and I spent most of our time in Cuba as sick as sick dogs. The dark hours filled with coughing and night sweats were the worst. The rising sun brought some peace. We crawled out to the pool’s edge, blew our noses into napkins, and lounged. And we read books.

I’m a bibliophile, but vacation days yield more time for getting lost in books. Uninterrupted days filled with the tasty consumption of words are great days, even when you aren’t feeling your best. In today’s example of something good to read, I suggest Bunny by Mona Awad. This author was new to me, but a glance at the first few pages told me I would enjoy her wordplay. It’s reminiscent of Heathers, the 1988 movie starring Winona Ryder and Christian Slater (and 95% on Rotten Tomatoes, I might add). If you’ve ever felt like an outsider standing too close to a snooty clique, you’ll enjoy all the delicious evisceration of the in-crowd.

No spoilers. I despise spoilers.

Bunny tells the story of a young woman studying creative writing, and she’s surrounded by assholes. Anyone who has participated in a writing workshop will relate to her hatred of the worst people who show up at writing workshops. Her school has more than its fair share of fake, nasty, and cloying student writers.

Awad’s writing style is clever and hip. (Is it okay to say hip? Is that not hip? No? Okay, it’s bussin’! It’s gas! It’s buttah! Cool? Okay. Far out, groovy, and fresh!) I digress. Go read Bunny.

The keys to a great vacation are (A) not having to make decisions, and (B) a good book. Make time for reading when you aren’t on vacation, too. It’s good for your mental health.

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Don’t chase literary agents. Lure them.

My biggest fans got special t-shirts for Christmas.

Things haven’t gone to plan…yet.

I haven’t caught a virus since before the pandemic. Make that: I hadn’t caught anything since before the pandemic. Masks work, but something slipped through. I had forgotten how miserable a virus can be. I ruled out C-19 and pneumonia, but this virus was merciless and my ears are still plugged!

As a doctor friend of mine said, there’s some nasty smutz going around. It’s been weeks of it for me now. That ruined a family reunion, Christmas, my birthday, New Year’s, and as I write this, my head feels like a concrete block. I felt better for a few days, so I was okay for a family vacation in Cuba. Then the virus hit me again. My wife, She Who Must Be Obeyed, got sick, too. However, our kids had a great time, and we did get to spend precious time with them. Best of all, we escaped the polar vortex which swallowed our home on the frozen tundra. The Cuban weather was very agreeable, and I got extra time to read a few books amid all the aggressive napping. (More on the readings tomorrow.)

Moving forward into 2025

My original plan was to publish Vengeance Is Hers next month. However, a couple of things are going on I can’t really get into. What I can say is those variables and opportunities have encouraged me to reach out to a few agent about my next novel. Instead of going straight to hitting publish on my own, I have some agents to engage with. I have a few particular agents in mind because I have heard great things about them. The usual route is to make mass submissions to many agents hoping for a bite. I’m more picky than that, and I have options. If it doesn’t work out after submitting to this select handful of agents, I’ll go forward with my original plans.

The struggle is to make the right connection. We have all heard horror stories that can taint our views of literary agents. I am only moving in this direction now for those reasons I can’t get into and because I have personal recommendations from fellow authors. (I also know one personally from when I worked in publishing in Toronto.) I won’t chase agents. There’s no dignity in that. However, metaphorically flirting and seducing the right agent with my literary wares and making them a business partner appeals to me. I’m looking for someone special. Game on.

2025 will have some interesting challenges.

I have a very dim view of where things are going on the international political scene. I’m sure I’ll delve into that here, too, from time to time. On a personal level, I’m uncharacteristically optimistic. I’m confident in the book and my abilities as a novelist. I’m sure our health will improve with time and treatment. I’m excited to see what i can accomplish professionally this year.

I hope you feel the same way about 2025. Whatever strong winds may press us back, let’s keep sailing.

NOTE TO TRAVELERS: If you’ve never been to Cuba, don’t go for the food. We fled there for the weather. I’m a big fan of palm trees, sunshine, and walking in sugar sand. Despite our illnesses, I don’t regret going. There were a few moments of suffering when I desperately wanted to be home in my own bed, but an extremely rare vacation in the tropics was necessary, and mostly beautiful. This was our second trip to Cuba. While it is special, this trip also reminded me how deeply I appreciate the advantages of my snowy home. I feel so fortunate to live in Canada.