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Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts

Saturday, June 24, 2023

Be the Cool Kid Who Reads the Book First, Then Watches the Series: La Fronter Saga by John Scheck


 Purchase La Frontera Saga , by John Scheck.

 

Attention Netflix, or Amazon Prime, or Hulu: Here's your next hit series. La Frontera Saga's simple, yet insanely relevant premise could be the stuff of legend, and maybe even affect real change in a violent world where terror and murder and anarchy reign supreme--in this case the Mexican drug trade.

Diego is a cool, urbane, and yet bold Spaniard raised in the egalitarian Spanish society where violent crime is relatively non-existent, where there's little violence despite having the largest illicit drug trade in Europe because of its many beach resort towns to which millions of Europeans flock in search of fun, sun, and nightlife decadence where drugs are consumed so profligately. Spain's social-democratic economy has leveled the playing field enough that abject poverty is rare, as it is typically in abjectly poor places where violent crime springs. Despite the fact Spain's drug trade is extensive, there's little or no violence attached to it.

Diego hustles in Benidorm, one of Spain's hottest coastal resort towns, selling drugs and also providing luxury accommodations for those who can afford such things. In the course of his hustles he befriends vacationing (or exiled) Mexican narcotraficantes, one of whom is the most powerful drug lord in all Mexico as the head of the Sinaloa cartel, who sends his family to Benidorm for vacation and even manages to abscond himself to the city for some down time.

Diego befriends this man enough to posit a bold and brilliant plan on how to revolutionize the Mexican drug trade by both reducing the insane volume of murder and mayhem and also "spread the wealth" to the impoverished millions in Mexico, social-democratic style, using the vast wealth of the cartels acting as the government agent in leveling the playing field.

There's much more to La Frontera Saga than this. Although it has high-minded idealism at its core, it never presents this message sanctimoniously, nor does it dilute the entertainment value of the story. There's plenty of superbly drawn-up characters and plot lines to keep the reader obsessed with finishing every page with great gusto.

What makes the novel work is that Scheck's high-minded idealism is a truly realistic adventure as told throughout the story. It never falls into the tired old tropes about the Mexican drug trade, nor does it present the same dark and cynical view that "nothing ever changes," that if you live in Europe long enough, you realize that its egalitarian, social-democratic cultures (Denmark, France, Germany, Spain, et al.) all sprung, slowly and with great pain, from the abject lowest of low. For instance, Spain created this amazing culture after emerging from years of fascist rule that made it one of the poorest countries in Europe; today it isn't perfect in Spain, but her people live well, safe and prosperous, and with little signs of the massive wealth divide seen in Mexico, and certainly without the insane violence and unbridled criminality in that country.

My point being, it is entirely possible to affect change. European social democracies sprung from first unequal societies dominated by royals, then in some cases fascists and other failed forms of self-governance and bad economic policies, and anyone living in these countries today can clearly see how far they've come the last 70 years. Why not do the same in Mexico? Someone just has to have the visionary ideas and boldness to make it happen, then to convince the people it is in their best interest to be more altruistic and cooperative. That is Diego Valverde. And he's thinking big to transform Mexico.

I read this book so fast, and with such enthusiasm, that I lost an entire Saturday finishing it in one long read where I only paused to eat--and, you know, answer nature's calling. Other than that I read it constantly from end to end. Now how do I get people at Netflix, Hulu, et al. to get onboard? We have the next hit series.

 

- Goodreads review from Mr. Cool

Monday, July 26, 2021

Death Race Los Angeles – John Scheck

 

For practice, I've been writing these 700-word crime stories. They have really helped me with my style, making me evaluate the value of every single word. This one is sort of outside the normal boundaries of crime, but there are fewer things in modern society more violent than driving.

 Death Race Los Angeles

 Like most Americans, Natalie wasn’t a criminal. She had no intersection with law enforcement except when behind the wheel, and nothing much there, just a few fines for speeding. A couple of moving violations that raised her insurance, but she felt ahead of the game because she’d talked herself out of several DUIs this year. Her tickets resulted from inattention to posted signs, some ignorable, others crucial. Her real driving sins were the most churlish aspects of modern society: impatience and solipsism.

 Instead of simply walking out the door ten minutes sooner to make it to work on time, she’d push the limits of driving to make up for her early morning procrastination. Whatever, she thought, I’m busy.

 Natalie drove from Irvine to Torrance every morning, a forty-five-minute commute on a good day. She’d stop every morning for her large, double latte, tune her song playlist, and light her first cigarette. After flicking the butt out of the window—she didn’t want to dirty her ashtray—she’d make her first phone call, always pleasure before business. Her first call was to Aaron, a guy she’d been seeing recently, didn’t even know what he did yet. Next, her bestie Karen she’d roomed with at UCLA. They were the only single, non-boring people in their crowd from those days.

 Cruise control always set at 75 mph—no one got pulled over for going seventy-five. She weaved in and out of heavy traffic in the far-left lanes, flipping off some drivers and shouting obscenities at others. What the hell was wrong with people? Driving like tourists on their way to Universal Studies while she had to get to work. If she had to pay a fine for every time she honked her horn, she’d be in a lot more debt that she already was. Fuck’em, she thought. Either learn how to drive, or get the hell out of LA. That should be posted on the San Diego Freeway at every on-ramp.

 She was about to change lanes, lighting her second cigarette, talking to Karen about Aaron when she pressed the stereo to change the lame song that just started. She looked up to see the minivan with out-of-state tags braking hard. WTF? Karen was asking what kind of underwear Aaron wore, Natalie’s cigarette wasn’t lit properly, and the next song was worse than the last.

By the time Natalie processed all this information, the minivan was screeching to a complete stop. She didn’t even have time to so much as tap her brakes, slamming into the van at full speed. The last thing see remembered was a Visit Wall Drug sticker on the back window of the van, that and the seven people inside: mother, father, two children, and two cousins, all from Minnesota. All pronounced dead at the scene. Natalie got off with a broken collar bone and a burn on her leg from her coffee when it spilled. Thank god for air bags.

She was sent off in an ambulance as if she were merely another of the victims and not the perpetrator of what could only be classified as a mass murder. If she’d wanted to kill that family, she couldn’t have planned it any better than to assassinate them with her car when she was sober—almost no one was ever charged in traffic fatalities except when alcohol was a mitigating factor. Natalie had wiped out an entire family, and part of another, without even getting a ticket, although her insurance rates would undoubtedly rise. 

 The tragedy for the young Orange County woman was losing her phone in the holocaust along with all of her photos and contacts. Most of them she could recover soon enough by putting out an appeal on social media for friends to send their info, and any copies of the pics she’d dutifully posted over the past year. She needed a new car, duh. No way she could take public transport, not where she lived. That was for total losers and poor people. Americans demanded the freedom of their own cars, driving everywhere, driving at top speed, and parking for free. Anything else went against everything the country was based upon. Everyone knew that.