Lisa Alber--The Dad Theme, in Life and My Novels

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Welcome back, Lisa Alber! I love that JUNGLE RED has a special place in your writing history, and we are always thrilled to have you!

But I do want to know how time--and books!--go by so fast... Has it really been four years?

LISA ALBER: Thanks for inviting me today, Debs! A funny thing happened on the way to writing this blog post. I decided to refresh my memory about my previous guest posts here on Jungle Reds and came upon a post that I’d forgotten I’d written. My very first guest post anywhere, as a matter of fact, back in 2013. It’s a post about Coffee Toffee Pie (+recipe!) and my deceased dad—a kind of loaded topic. Not the pie, which was the reason Lucy asked me to post in the first place (everyone loves pie, am I right or am I wrong?), but the dad bits.

Fast forward four years, and I can’t help but think about how father-daughter (and some son) relationships figure big in my novels. It’s a theme I keep mining, keep wanting to explore.

In Path Into Darkness, my third novel set in Ireland, one of my two main series characters, DS Danny Ahern, balances being a single father, managing his comatose wife’s medical ups-and-downs, and investigating the murder of one of his pub mates, Elder Joe. Meanwhile, my other protagonist, Californian Merrit, is still trying to maneuver around her relationship with her father, Liam, at the same time she gets pulled into Danny’s investigation.

Danny and Merrit find themselves circling ever closer to the darkness at the heart of the ultimate father-daughter relationship: mentally fragile Nathan Tate and beautiful, buoyant Zoe. This relationship is a doozy! And it could be that Nathan is somehow implicated in Elder Joe’s murder, or it could be that something else is going on altogether. (I hope you’re intrigued!)

So, fathers and their children—the theme that keeps on giving!

I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot lately because I visited with his sisters in Chicago at the beginning of the month. I hadn’t seen them in decades. At one point, Aunt Bernie was preparing appetizers while I drank wine (what’s new?), and I had this moment of dislocation. Her mannerisms, her gestures, her expressions, even the way her mouth hung open when she wasn’t talking, was my dad all over again. For a few moments there, Dad was alive again. 

When I expressed my verklempted-ness, Aunt Bernie treated me to a Princess Di glance and a little smile (so like dad!), and said, “We did come out of the same gene pool, after all.”

And that was so dad too—using logic to veer away from emotion. I just had to laugh, but I didn’t let her Alber-ness daunt me. I was feeling emotional, and I was going to express it!

“I’m getting teary,” I said. “It’s like seeing dad again.”

“Well, that’s OK then,” she said, which makes me smile even now. So effusive, we Albers!

It might be a truism that our themes pick us rather than the other way around. If that’s so, I wonder when I’m going to start delving into mother-child dynamics?

DEBS: Well, if you do, Lisa, I can't wait to read the result. Here's what the reviewers have to say about PATH INTO DARKNESS:

“Alber’s third series outing is an atmospheric story of Ireland, filled with myth and darkness. The characters are as hard and mysterious as the land itself. Fans of Erin Hart’s dark Irish crime novels should welcome this series.” —Library Journal (starred review)

"A dark, compelling mystery with numerous plot twists and well-drawn characters interwoven with an involving portrait of life in a small insular Irish village." —Booklist

"Heartwrenching ... engaging ... A haunting tale rife with gruesome murders and secrets, Path into Darkness shines." —Foreword Reviews

“Lisa Alber’s new mystery is like a BBC drama—an Irish small town with far too many secrets. Every character's motivations seem utterly different after one more turn of the screw. And there is always one more turn of the screw.”
—Willamette Week

I can echo all that and add that I LOVED PATH INTO DARKNESS and so did my mystery fan daughter.

Lisa Alber’s debut novel, Kilmoon, was nominated for the Rosebud Award of Best First Novel. Kirkus calls her second novel, Whispers in the Mist, a “worthy successor to Kilmoon in tone, mood, complexity, and keen insight into human failures and triumphs.” She balances writing her next novel with gardening, dog-walking, and goofing off. She lives in Portland, OR. You can find Lisa online at lisaalber.com, Facebook and Twitter.

Lisa will be dropping in to chat, and will give away a copy of PATH INTO DARKNESS AND an Irish trinket to a lucky commenter.

READERS, do you enjoy books that explore complicated family relationships?

Lisa Alber, WHISPERS IN THE MIST—and Meeting her Matchmaker

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Today I'm delighted to introduce Lisa Alber, author of Kilmoon and her just-published Whispers in the Mist.

LISA ALBER: Thanks for having me, Susan! I always enjoy joining the Jungle Reds gang for a day.

In my relatively short time as a novelist (my second novel, WHISPERS IN THE MIST, came out a few weeks ago—woohoo!), I’ve come to the conclusion that reading is a conversation we have with ourselves; how we react to what we read isn’t so much about the story as about ourselves.

I hadn’t thought about this until I went to Ireland this past spring for novel research. One day to my delight I happened on a big horse fair and got to talking to the owner of a Connemara pony. He was charming fellow, one of the loquacious Irish. I wasn’t expecting anything out of the conversation, but then he asked my name, and I asked his name, and then my mind got blown.

“Wait,” I said, “you’re W—D—, the matchmaker?” I couldn’t believe it. Of all the horse owners in all of Ireland, I happened to be talking to the man who was one of the inspirations for my first novel (and thus the series). Oh. My. God. I immediately fell into a flurry of words, telling him about the County Clare mysteries and assuring him that my rendition of matchmaking had nothing to do with reality.

I pulled out a copy of KILMOON that I carried with me everywhere. He seemed a little—bemused? Wary? Skeptical? But, also curious. Maybe a smidgen impressed. So, feeling a tad foolish, I signed over the copy to him. He asked for my phone number. 

Sure, why not? I thought.  

I walked away thoroughly tickled by the encounter, so tickled that I had to tell Lou the owner of my favorite café, Ginger Lou’s, and later Kevin the barman at my favorite pub, Cooley’s. I got an earful about the matchmaker along the lines of:

“He’d buy and sell you as soon as look at you.” “He’s a pretty tricky character.” “An old gigolo.” “You couldn’t be matchmaker without doing a bit of quality control.”

Fascinating, I thought. W—D—, matchmaker, was or is a total player. Huh.

Fast forward a week. I received a text message: You said i may not like the book i said i might so when good to meet up w--

Whoa! I hadn’t expected to hear from W—, and here he’d read the bbook surprisingly fast. The next day we met up at Ginger Lou’s. Only now I was unaccountably nervous. My matchmaker is the only character I’ve written who is remotely based on reality, and however remotely, the fact remained that I’d gotten the idea for him from W—D—. If W— was a tricky character, did he want money? If he was an old gigolo, did he want—something?

WHAT DID HE WANT?

The suspense about killed me, and Lou was nothing but laughing at me. “Oh ay, he probably just wants to get the leg over.” (“The leg over” – I love the Irish!)

The next day, W— was charming as could be as we sipped tea and ate dessert (with Lou smirking in the background). He didn’t say much about the novel, only that I certainly “can write.” We chatted about all kinds of things, including his large extended family, many kids, and grandchildren. I couldn’t figure him out.

Toward the end of the conversation, he finally said, “There’s one thing I want to ask you though.” Uh-oh, here we go. “Your character, Merrit—is she based on anyone?”

Merrit is one of my series protagonists. She’s from California and is the illegitimate daughter of the local matchmaker. It took me a second to realize what W— was asking: Was Merrit based on ME? Was I his daughter? Whoa! Without letting on that I understood what he was really asking, I assured him that she’s not based on anyone real.

You can see why I got to reflecting about the meanings our stories can have for people, meanings that we could never in a million years predict, meanings that don’t reflect the stories themselves, meanings that have nothing to do with us, the authors. It’s an amazing thing, not to mention a little mind-boggling.

Ultimately, I suppose that’s why storytelling is so powerful. Stories have their own lives. I just hadn’t considered this for the stories I write. I mean, I’m just doing my thing—having my own conversation with myself as I write.

SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Lisa, wow, what an amazing story. He must have been completely freaked out that you might be his real-life daughter, based on Merrit!


Reds and lovely readers, when you read, how much of yourselves to you bring to the book? Do you think novels are a collaboration between writer and reader? Tell us in the comments!



ABOUT WHISPERS IN THE MIST:

There’s a whisper in the mists

In Lisfenora, Ireland, a strange fog has rolled in off the Atlantic. Along with the fog comes tales of the Grey Man, a predatory faery of local lore who snatches innocent souls into his deadly gloom.

And with the mists come murder

When a teenage boy dies in Detective Sergeant Danny Ahern’s arms, Danny finds himself pursuing his own grey man, a killer who becomes more elusive the closer Danny gets to the truth. A mute woman may be the key to solving the murder and helping Danny heal his own broken life, but first she must unlock the memories from her past.

ABOUT LISA:

Lisa Alber writes the County Clare mysteries. Her debut novel, Kilmoon, was nominated for the Rosebud Award of Best First Novel. Kirkus calls her second novel, Whispers in the Mist, a “worthy successor to Kilmoon in tone, mood, complexity, and keen insight into human failures and triumphs.” She balances writing her third novel (Midnight Ink, August 2017) with gardening, dog-walking, and goofing off. She lives in Portland, OR. You can find Lisa online at lisaalber.com, Facebook and Twitter.

WHISPERS link: https://www.amazon.com/Whispers-Mist-County-Clare-Mystery/dp/073874896X

KILMOON link: https://www.amazon.com/Kilmoon-County-Clare-Mystery-Alber/dp/0989544605

Childhood's End

First, headlines! 

The winner of THE BLACK HOUR is mauisun411! Email Hank h ryan at whdh dot com with your address--and congratulations!

THE OTHER WOMAN is now just $2.99 on all e platforms! But not for long. http://www.HankPhillippiRyan.com

and now: 

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  It's Saturday morning, and as we learned yesterday from Lori Rader-Day, there'll be no more binge-watching of cartoons. But that just gives us more time to listen to a great story.

A story of a different kid of childhood. Maybe--with no cartoons.

Today Lisa Alber spins us quite the intriguing tale. Again, about being at a certain place at a certain time.  A tale of her childhood, and how it haunts her dreams today, and how it changed her life.

The Mystery I’d Most Like to Solve

                  by Lisa Alber

Picture this: Six-year-old Little Lisa (LL for short) sits on an olive-green recliner. She’s waiting to walk to school with an older neighbor girl, Laura Parrish, who is in fifth grade. Every day LL tries to slip past Laura’s house by skulking behind parked cars. Sometimes she makes it and gets to walk to school alone even though she’s too young for that. Most often, she’s caught out and banished to the gloomy living room while Laura finishes her breakfast. The musty curtains are always closed, the shag rug always un-vacuumed. LL makes a game of bouncing her hands off her thighs in different rhythms. It’s hard—her hands want to sync up—but over time she improves. She does this so she doesn’t have to think too much about who’s down the murky hallway.

The scary brothers just home from a war in Vietnam.

There’s something wrong with them, something wrong with the mom who plays guitar and sings “Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head,” something wrong with the buttoned-up businessman dad, and, most of all, something wrong with Laura, who pees her bed.

Of course, Little Lisa doesn’t know this consciously; she senses the wrongness of everything about this house. Knows that this house is in some fundamental way not a safe place for little girls.

***

Wow, Hank, when you asked me to write a post for Jungle Reds, I expected to keep it light. This memory arrived instead. But at least I know why.

It’s this: The other day I got to thinking about the inevitability of me writing mystery/crime fiction rather than, say, romance or women’s fiction. Inevitable because the mystery of Laura has followed me around since I was a kid. To this day, for example, I dream about murky, inescapable houses when I’m under stress. It’s my go-to anxiety dream.

As for my writing, I gravitate toward stories about families with secrets. I often incorporate moody buildings—or some other thick, cloying environmental factor—in my stories. And since my first impression of the world outside my home was one laden with danger, I guess it’s not surprising that I’d write stories about dangerous situations.

I’ve tried to find Laura over the years. Every once in a while I Google her name. About a decade ago, I visited the old neighborhood and realized that I’d remembered her home address, 5 Dellwood Court, but not my own. I knocked on the front door, hoping that somehow a Parrish still lived there. Where’s Laura? I’d ask. What’s she doing? Did she end up OK—or a drug addict—or worse? And, most of all, what the hell was going on in her effed-up household?!?

There was even the time about, oh, eight years ago when, in a fit of despair, I set aside what would become my debut novel, Kilmoon, and started a new piece, in which, yes, I tried to solve the mystery of Laura through fiction. Writing that novel led to the revelation that I’d suffered from PTSD as a child. Seriously. Is that crazy, or what?

(Aside: We moved away from the neighborhood when I was seven—thank goodness; life saver!)

Am I sad or bitter about my less-than-bucolic early childhood? Nah. I’m fascinated. 

I’m fascinated by psychology, in general, and by how we become the adults we turn out to be. I can be anxious and high-strung—you spend enough time in an oppressive house in which amputee’d, drug-addled men (with PTSD no doubt) jump out of closets at you—well, so it goes.

In the end, Laura was probably as big an influence on my early development as my parents. For all I know, I have Laura to thank for my writing life because while I sat on that dingy recliner bouncing my hands against my thighs, I used to sink deep into other worlds. I Iived in imaginary worlds.

So, thank you, Laura. I hope you’re OK out there somewhere. You’re still the mystery I would most like to solve.

Jungle Redians, do you have a life-long mystery you wish you could solve? Or some remnant from your childhood that still follows you around? How do you think this influenced your development—and writing life, if you’re a writer?

HANK: Well, I still watch for tornadoes, as I used to when I was a kid, all the result of Wizard of Oz, of course.  I dream of houses, too, but they are lovely. Which I  think makes yours even more fascinating. But you know as a writer, I always worry when I can't give someone a happy ending, or when I have to write about someone saying goodbye. I know, absolutely, where in my childhood that came from. 

How about you, Reds?

******************************

About KILMOON

Californian Merrit Chase travels to Ireland to meet her father, a celebrated matchmaker, in hopes that she can mend her troubled past. Instead, her arrival triggers a rising tide of violence, and Merrit finds herself both suspect and victim, accomplice and pawn, in a murderous game that began thirty years previously. Family secrets, betrayal, and vengeance from beyond the grave—Merrit has just discovered her long-lost father.

This first in Alber’s new County Clare Mystery series is utterly poetic … The author’s prose and lush descriptions of the Irish countryside nicely complement this dark, broody and very intricate mystery.

     —RT Book Reviews (four stars)

In her moody debut, Alber skillfully uses many shades of gray to draw complex characters who discover how cruel love can be.

     —Kirkus Reviews

Brooding, gothic overtones haunt Lisa Alber’s polished, atmospheric debut. Romance, mysticism, and the verdant Irish countryside all contribute to making Kilmoon a marvelous, suspenseful read.”

     —Julia Spencer-Fleming, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of
          Through the Evil Days

Lisa Alber received an Elizabeth George Foundation writing grant based on Kilmoon. Ever distractible, you may find her staring out windows, dog walking, fooling around online, or drinking red wine with her friends. Ireland, books, animals, photography, and blogging round out her distractions. Lisa lives in the Pacific Northwest. She is currently at work on her second novel set in Ireland.

You can find Lisa at: website | Facebook | Twitter | blog

Lessons in the Irish Gift of the Gab, a guest post by Lisa Alber

 

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: One of the great joys of being a part of Jungle Red Writers is the community that is our backblog. Our commenters have shared their joys and sorrows, met up at writing conferences, hashed out recipes and made "working" at the blog more like gabbing with neighbors at the local coffee shop. Several of our back-bloggers are writers themselves, and I know I speak for all the Reds when I say nothing makes us prouder than when one of our regulars says, "I have a book coming out!"

That's Lisa Alber. If you've been hanging around here, you'll know her sense of humor and way with words. We're not the only ones to have noticed - Lisa is a Pushcart Prize nominee and the recipient of an Elizabeth George Foundation grant and a Walden Fellowship. Today is the launch day for her debut mystery, Kilmoon.  We're so glad she's spending it with us!   

Lessons in the Irish Gift of the Gab

Thanks for having me back, Julia and Reds! When Lucy asked me to write a guest post in June 2013, my novel launch was still a far-off dream. Now, here I am with my debut novel out in the world. The dream is reality!

A few weeks ago I dug out one of my novel research journals. It's hand-sewn black leather with handmade paper. I remembered being worried that I would fill it up too quickly, so I wrote small, filling each page to the brim with observations and thoughts about Ireland and my work-in-progress. Profundities abound:

3:45 a.m. Ugh—awake. Just took half a Vicodin. How am I going to get myself a SALAD?

I came upon the name of a man I hadn't thought about in years. Malcolm McAndrew. (Don't you love that name?) For quiet County Clare, he was quite the exotic because he wore a black leather jacket and drove a Harley. He was so cute—OK, I admit it, I was infatuated, but not only because of his dark Irish good looks. In the midst of his hilarious stories, he'd say things like:

"He was that cross-eyed, when he cried the tears rolled down his back."

Or:

"He's so cheap he wouldn't give you the steam off his piss."

Or:

"It's not like a 12-foot wall; you'll get over it."

Or:

"He should be tied to a bull's balls and scuttered to death."

He had me at "cross-eyed." And it wasn't like he had a special flare for language or metaphor either. One day I was talking to my B&B hostess, and she said, "I literally ran in and took the hinges with me."

What a wonderful way to tell me she was scared out of her mind!

Or, how about this from an old codger who apparently liked the looks of me: "If I had salt, and I had pepper, and I sprinkled it all over you, I would just eat you up."

I love that! How does that even spring out of your mouth without forethought?

I also love love love Irish putdowns. I'm an unrepentent potty mouth myself, so I lapped up all kinds of lovely words such as "wankstain" and "toerag" and "geebag" and "f**kbucket.” (Look at me, trying to be polite with asterisks!)

I’m OK with just about anything, especially when it’s said with an Irish accent, but even I was taken aback when I heard the c-word that rhymes with "bundt" bandied about without care. It didn't take me long to figure out that men only say this word when clowning with their (male) mates. It’s like calling someone an “ass” here.

By comparison, a putdown such as "sad sack" seemed benign. Hah! Little did I know. I thought I’d caught on to the Irish gift of the gab when I made the mistake of calling a bunch of single lads I’d befriended "sad sacks" as they lolled around the B&B after a wild night at the annual matchmaking festival. (Sidenote: I was in Lisdoonvarna, County Clare, to research the festival for Kilmoon.)

You'd have thought I'd called them, well, the c-word! I bet they would have laughed me off if I had. Instead, I found myself apologizing for insulting them so grievously.

As I slunk out of the room, I heard one of them mention the lot of them "standing around like a bunch of spare pricks" at the Matchmaker Pub the previous evening. I still hope they didn't hear me laughing as I ran to my room to jot down the phrase. I was there. I saw them. I couldn’t have come up with a better description if I’d give myself a week to do so.

I couldn't write fast enough to keep up with everything I heard. When I returned to the States, I promptly inserted what I'd heard into my manuscript. Ah, novice novelist that I was! This was a case in which reality read like the worst kind of make-believe, so I eventually (after much kicking and screaming) yanked most of it out again. Ah well, at least I have my journal when I want a dose of the Irish gift of the gab. 

How about you, dear readers? Do you journal? Do you have the gift of gab? Do you use asterisks instead of swearing? Lisa has a copy of Kilmoon for one lucky commenter, so let us know!

Lisa Alber received an Elizabeth George Foundation writing grant based on Kilmoon. In addition, Ms. George asked Lisa to write a short story for Two of the Deadliest: New Tales of Lust, Greed, and Murder from Outstanding Women of Mystery (HarperCollins). She featured Lisa’s story in an “Introducing…” section for up-and-coming novelists. A Walden Fellowship recipient and Pushcart Prize nominee, Lisa lives in the Pacific Northwest. Kilmoon is her first novel.

You can find Lisa at: website | Facebook | Twitter | blog

Lisa Alber on Turning Points and Pie

LUCY BURDETTE: We all loved Lori Roy's post earlier this week--so many good stories about keepsakes. When I read Lisa Alber's response about memorabilia from her father's restaurants, and about his coffee toffee pie, I asked if she would join us to talk more and share that fabulous-sounding recipe. And then I discovered her first book comes out next year! What fun! Welcome Lisa!

LISA ALBER: Thanks for inviting me here today, Lucy! Lori’s post struck a nostalgic cord with me, that’s for sure.

Sadly, a crucial turning point in my relationship with my dad occurred after his death. My sisters and I had discovered a stash of menus, articles, and fliers from Dad’s restaurateur days. He’d saved three copies of everything, one set for each daughter. Frankly, I was astonished. Dad saved this for us?

Dad was a distant man, and I barely saw him growing up. We weren’t close. Fingering a menu that listed Dad’s famous coffee toffee pie for 60¢, I realized that not only had Dad been sentimental, he’d been thinking about us all along. Talk about a revelation. I caught a glimmer of him, perhaps for the first time, and I was heartbroken. What do you do with a turning point when it’s too late to go back?

Eventually, I wrote my upcoming  novel, Kilmoon, which centers around a woman who doesn’t know her father. I also kept the one keepsake—excluding papers—that my dad had saved from the restaurants: a battered springform baking pan. My mom never understood why he’d kept it, but I’d experienced the glimmer. I understood. Menu items came and went, but Dad always served coffee toffee pie. That dented pan symbolized an era and also Dad’s love in the only way he could easily express it. I still miss coffee toffee pie.

Have you experienced an epiphany about someone when it was too late to go back?

And, for you, dear Jungle Reddians, a recipe. Yum!

Joe Alber’s Coffee Toffee Pie

Makes two pies

Crust:

1 lb. box of pie crust mix
1/2 cup Ghiradelli powdered unsweetened chocolate (or cocoa)
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1 1/4 cups crushed walnuts (not graham crackers as I’d mentioned in Lori’s post)
4 Tbsp. crushed Heath toffee bar bits
1 Tbsp. water as needed
 
Combine pie crust mix, powdered chocolate, brown sugar, walnuts, and toffee in a mixing bowl. Beat until crumbly, being sure to scrape down the sides of the bowl. Press dough firmly into two well-greased springform pans, keeping thickness of bottom to ¼ inch and heights of sides to about one inch. Add water to mixture and blend as needed if mixture is too crumbly. Also, moisten fingers with cold water as pressing dough into place to ease handling.

Bake at 325 degrees for 20 minutes. Cool for 20 minutes, and then place in the freezer.

Filling:

3/4 lb. butter, room temperature
2 cups sugar
2 Tbsp. instant coffee
3 one-ounce squares of semi-sweet chocolate, melted and cooled
6 eggs, room temperature

Cream butter. Add sugar gradually, beating until light and fluffy. Stir in chocolate and instant coffee. Add eggs one at a time beating thoroughly after adding each egg. Pour into cooled shells.

Whipped cream topping:

1 cup heavy cream
1 tsp. instant coffee
1 Tbsp. powdered sugar

Whip cream with coffee and sugar. Spread over whole pie. Chill at least two hours before serving.


Lisa Alber’s debut novel, KILMOON, a mystery set in Ireland, arrives March 2014. Based on Kilmoon, Lisa received an Elizabeth George Foundation writing grant. You can find Lisa online at www.lisaalber.com and lisaalber.wordpress.com.