By Mario Acevedo
A recent questionnaire on Facebook asked to list fifteen authors that influenced you personally. I jotted down some names, then as I thought about it, kept revising the list. After I had posted the list I realized I had overlooked one of the authors. So I’ll start this edited list with him.
Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange. The hoopla about Stanley Kubrick’s movie adaptation is what drew me to this novel, I was in high school at the time. I bought my copy from the rack at the local Quick Check (really, there was a time when you could buy literary novels at the convenience store). I devoured everything about the story including the Nadsat glossary. I was hooked by the narrative’s subversive, violent tone. This was not a “feel-good” read. When my best friend and I saw the movie, we followed the screenplay with the same reverence as Twilight fans tracking the exploits of Edward and Bella. We geeked out so much that we wore Clockwork Orange costumes (this was in the primordial days of fan-cons and nobody wore costumes except on Halloween). I even made a bloody eyeball cufflinks. However, Burgess was horrified by the mass-appeal of the book and the movie (the infamous gang-rape scene was based on what happened to his wife when American soldiers broke into their home), and he wrote an opera to lampoon his own creation. And I’ve seen this musical adaptation, performed in Austin, TX, with women playing the gangsters.
Riane Eisler, The Chalice and the Blade. I ran across this book during my “What good does Christianity do?” period in my life in the aftermath of a family murder-suicide. Having grown up in a Southern Baptist fundamentalist environment, for most of my life I had been reading the Bible as the “Great Book of Wisdom,” but it never made much sense to me. Then I came across The Chalice and the Blade and Eisler’s arguments opened my eyes that the Bible was a book of fiction, mostly, and written to serve a political agenda.
Jerzy Kosinski, The Painted Bird. I found this book on the shelf of my uncle’s home when I was on leave from the army. The story is an orphan’s wandering through Eastern Europe during World War Two. As a history buff I could easily put the hapless boy’s ordeals in context, and that’s what made it so chilling. This is only of two books that I’ve read that were so horrific I had to put them aside to process the brutality. In contrast, the violence in A Clockwork Orange struck me as theatrical and lacking in empathy for the victims.
Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I learned about this book from the most unlikeliest of sources, an after-school Warner Brothers cartoon. Bugs Bunny warded off a pack of dogs by showing them the book and they ran over the Brooklyn Bridge in search of said tree. Was there such a book? There was, and I checked it out of the public library. The novel was published in 1943 to much acclaim and success. It’s the coming-of-age-story of Francine who overcomes her family’s impoverished circumstances. The book was an enlightening detour from my usual fare of military history. Though I enjoyed the story it was the first time that my internal literary critic was activated. I thought the last chapters had rushed through the girl’s life and as a reader, I felt cheated.
Michael Crichton, The Andromeda Strain. I’m not a Crichton fan but I have to give him his due with this book. My dad used to buy the bestsellers when they were released in mass-market paperback. My memories were of him crashing on the couch during the weekend and churning through the pages. Because of his example I didn’t spend any time with the “classics” but with John D. MacDonald, Leon Uris, Frederick Forsyth, James Clavell, Trevanian, and of course, Michael Crichton. When I read The Andromeda Strain I was twelve years old and in hindsight, not a very sophisticated reader. So it pains me when today people get so worried about what kids read and get exposed to. Even I was able to tell fact from fiction. My dad finished this book late on Saturday afternoon and so I started early Sunday morning. I was so mesmerized by the tale that I faked feeling sick so I could skip church to finish the story. When I put the book down, I was amazed that the narrative had put me in a trance, oblivious to the actual world. Such is the power of a good story.
Mario Acevedo writes the best-selling Felix Gomez detective-vampire series for HarperCollins. Mario’s debut novel, The Nymphos of Rocky Flats, was chosen by Barnes & Noble as one of the best Paranormal Fantasy Novels of the Decade. His short fiction is included in the anthologies, You Don’t Have A Clue: Latino Mystery Stories for Teens and Hit List: The Best of Latino Mystery from Arte Publico Press, and in Exquisite Corpse and Modern Drunkard Magazine. He was a finalist in the Colorado Book Awards and the International Latino Book Awards. Mario lives and writes in Denver, CO.