As usual, it is the best of times and the worst of times, which is as good a time as any to spin a tale of two novels. Ron Carlson, a masterful writer of a number of story collections and books, has published The Signal (Viking), a compact, 200-page novel set in the deep woods and mountains of Wyoming. Protagonist Mack, whose commitment to keeping the family ranch has led him to various shades of felony and crime, and his soon-to-be-ex-wife Vonnie have arranged to say goodbye on their 10th (and obviously final) annual backpacking trip into the Wind River Mountains. Mack has an additional reason for this—a secret that triggers mayhem and violence in this well-crafted love story.

Harvard Law graduate Daniel Levin, who practiced international law at Louis Begley’s law firm, presents The Last Ember (Riverhead), his maiden fictional effort with all sorts of collateral information attached—starting with (well, I started with these) blurbs by Elie Wiesel and Alan Dershowitz that suggest an energetic publicity initiative continued in an overdone question and answer. The book features young Manhattan lawyer (and antiquities scholar) Jonathan Marcus, who is suddenly (meaning he doesn’t have time to change the Hermès tie he is wearing) and mysteriously summoned to his firm’s Rome office. Ostensibly he is to examine a client’s ancient map fragment, but this is the leaping-off point to digging up a bit of chicanery from two millenniums prior, and the corresponding contemporary attempt to achieve the same goals (I am trying not to give away this novel’s details, in case that matters). The publisher describes The Last Ember as “a riveting tale spanning the high-stakes worlds of archaeology, politics, and terrorism, in its portrayal of the modern struggle to define—and redefine—history itself.” Comparisons to The Da Vinci Code abound.

Ron Carlson’s novel suffers from no lack of attention and acknowledgement, with grateful reviews in major metropolitan newspapers. Here for your reading pleasure is the Sun-Sentinel on Levin’s tome: “It may be a coincidence—or just good marketing—but it seems as if many publishers are launching mysteries that deal with myths, antiquities, or icons before Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol comes out Sept. 15.” Really?

Yet as of this writing, Ron Carlson’s novel is 2,179 on Amazon’s sales ranking and The Last Ember is striding along at 1,407. Amazing, huh? —Robert Birnbaum, Aug. 18, 2009

Though well represented in print, most recently with Jay Parini’s edit of The Selected Essays of Gore Vidal, the oracular Vidal seems glaringly overlooked by the buzzing, blooming noise/newsmakers bleating for our attention. Which makes his 2009 conversation with Parini (Vidal’s designated literary executor) all the more valuable—especially as it was produced by the inestimable Key West Literary Seminars. Gore Vidal, you should know, has written seven plays, countless essays, and more than 25 novels, of which the Empire series (Burr, Lincoln, 1876, Empire, Hollywood, and The Golden Age) lucidly parallel America’s history. To note, his 1993 collection United States: Essays 1952-1992 won that year’s National Book Award. —Robert Birnbaum, Aug. 12, 2009

Given the current overheated media climate, it would be normal to call Nicholson Baker’s very thoughtful piece on the Kindle a takedown or bashing—which would be a disservice to journalism (at least that variety still practiced by temperate and diligent reporters), Nick Baker, and even to the subject of his scrutiny, Amazon’s electric reader. Baker, whose Double Fold: Libraries and the Assault on Paper is a wonderful treatise on books and archiving, has already made it clear where his preferences lie—though his careful thoughts and research on the Kindle are generous and amusingly detailed (in the way that Baker can be).

And speaking of intemperate journalism: In Newsweek, Jacob Weisberg, Slate’s editor-in-chief, confided that for weeks he’d been doing all his recreational reading on the Kindle 2, and claims it offers a “fundamentally better experience” than inked paper: “Jeff Bezos built a machine that marks a cultural revolution…printed books, the most important artifacts of human civilization, are going to join newspapers and magazines on the road to obsolescence.” Oh my! —Robert Birnbaum, Aug. 3, 2009

If it were possible to embarrass corporations such as Amazon, the recent snafu over Amazon’s recall (that would be the kind word for it) of Kindle versions of George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm should be at least an embarrassment—though litigation would seem a more appropriate remedy. The short of it is that Amazon sold something it didn’t have the rights to and then took it back. Though after much hue and cry they promised not to do it again. Nice, huh?

Which reminds me that Facing Unpleasant Facts: Narrative Essays and All Art Is Propaganda: Critical Essays, both by Orwell and compiled by George Packer (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt), were published earlier this year, and neither is available in a Kindle version, so happily one can still purchase some essential Orwell, worry-free. —Robert Birnbaum, Jul. 22, 2009

Accepting writing as one’s profession allows one to indulge all manner of aberrant and/or unorthodox behavior (sometimes to or with other writers). Along with the expected impecuniosities, the great unwashed associate peculiarity with affection for the written word. Now this is not a wild habit in the scheme of things, but I must confess to a passing interest in author acknowledgements and annotations. These days it is not uncommon for writers to give thanks to their publicists (I have a feeling it is common but I am not willing to do the research to substantiate that claim). In Quarrel With the King: The Story of an English Family on the High Road to Civil War (Harper), quintessential English author Adam Nicolson (Seize the Fire, God’s Secretaries) salutes longtime Harper publicity maven Jane Beirn, and I was reminded of how I came to be acquainted with Nicolson and his oeuvre.

I was walking on the Lawrence Ave. beach in Chicago a few summers ago (I was either in town to speak with Eduardo Galeano or to attend my high school reunion—these things get fuzzy after awhile), when my mobile phone interrupted my Lake Michigan idyll. It was Jane Beirn inquiring about my interest in speaking with Adam Nicolson. Not having any familiarity with Nicolson, I expressed my ambivalence. The next thing I remember is reading Nicolson’s Seamanship and chatting with him upon my return to Boston—both pleasurable experiences. When I say Adam is quintessentially English, I am referring to his choice of subjects, his lineage (son of Nigel Nicolson and the grandson of Harold Nicolson and Vita Sackville-West), and the fact that he lives with his family in a castle. I ask you, can you get more English then that?

I was talking with Jane Beirn recently on another matter and she mentioned Quarrel With the King. The book was published last fall to indifferent attention—which I can understand, as the book seems to have little to attract the attention of the currently embattled American public, or even that fractional part considered literate. Jane sent me a copy and, given Nicholson’s fine prose and the fact that he focused on a crucial century (1520-1650 or so of England’s history, including its bloody civil war), I discovered that there was much more to this subject than I had apprehended at first glance. And more than that, I concluded that it is a book any publisher would—and should—be proud to publish. Thanks, Jane. —Robert Birnbaum, Jun. 16, 2009