Foyle's War

This is a compelling and oddly comforting drama. There is the setting and the time -- Hastings, on the southern coast of England during World War II. Hastings of course was the site of the last successful invasion of England, in 1066, and that threat seems real in the early days of the war. In the series, it is a provincial town where Deputy Chief Superintendent Foyle tries to solve local crimes of theft and murder, while dealing with wartime problems of black markets, sabotage and espionage. In addition to meddling from police superiors with their own agendas, Foyle must contend with bureaucratic and military interference from London as the war creates situations that lets criminals go free.

Then there are the scripts and the actors, not to mention the overall quality of the production -- lucid photography, theme music with echoes of Brideshead Revisited, period clothing, vehicles, etc. The writing is measured, intelligent, no wasted words. Honeysuckle Weeks and Anthony Howell in the supporting roles of Samantha Stewart and Paul Milner are excellent and play off each other well.

But the show belongs to Michael Kitchen and you wonder why you've never seen this actor before and when you will see him again. He conveys the competence and integrity you want in your hero, but the real attraction, I think, is that he is the ultimate father figure. He is concerned about people without wearing it on his sleeve; gruff, even curt, but letting us glimpse the tenderness behind it; and he is wise, not only a clever detective but wise in the ways of the human heart. He is a father not only to his son, Andrew, an RAF pilot, but also to Sam and Milner and to any number of characters in the various episodes, including his goddaughter in the last (final?) episode. Invariably, this father knows best. While he conveys a sense of vulnerability, you never have the feeling Foyle has really made a mistake. This is why I think the films are comforting. With all the chaos of war, and darkness of human behavior, Foyle moves through it all, self-possessed, caring, and ultimately, even when circumstances beyond his control keep him from actually incarcerating the wrongdoer, successful in protecting his charges from evil.

Black's Bar & Kitchen -- post-renovation

Finally got to the renovated Black's Bar & Kitchen. Jeff Black's first area restaurant had fallen behind his later creations -- Addie's, Black Market, and BlackSalt -- and the renovation offered a chance to upgrade. Food was outstanding on this visit. We had a tangy tuna tatar with a fresh citrus taste, and delicate deep-fried stuffed squash blossoms as starters. My entree was a perfectly grilled tender veal chop with a cream spinach side that was impeccably prepared -- green, with a fresh spinach taste holding up to the cream. The soft shell crabs got good marks from my dinner partner. The espresso chocolate cake was down a notch, a bit too busy and gooey. The wine list seemed way overpriced, though we were there on a Sunday when bottles are half-price, so it was fine for us. New decor a big improvement, but a little cold for my taste. Service was fine, though fussy with a lot of unnecessary gimmicks; waiter intruded with remarks on our conversation. Of course, this all has a price -- bill now is closer to $75 all in, compared to $45 before. But now the original Black's is on a par with BlackSalt, the fanciest and busiest of the group.

Writers in Washington

Washington, D.C. is well known as a literary town, said to have the highest per capita book sales in the country. I've joined a book club that was formed via the Chevy Chase listserv and billed as a book club for men to focus on nonfiction. This to counter the prevalent book club paradigm of women reading fiction.

In the event, our first book was The Dream Life of Sukhanov by Olga Grushin, a novel. Our second selection was American Prometheus by Kai Bird and Martin Sherwin. And our last selection was Prisoners: A Muslim and a Jew Across the Middle East Divide by Jeffrey Goldberg.

Without any plan or intention, our first three choices were all three books by Washington authors. Washington, of course, has many journalists, and many of them write books (Goldberg writes for The New Yorker). Many of the Post journalists write books -- Tom Ricks' Fiasco was a finalist for a Pulitzer this year; David Ignatius and Stephen Hunter write thrillers. Policy wonks, lawyers, and politicians are also wont to write books. But it seems the literary culture in the nation's capital is growing beyond such narrow categories and becoming a more generalized potpourri of literary interests.

There is a well-developed infrastructure to serve writers. Washington Independent Writers has a rich program of lectures, workshops and its annual conference, as well as small groups organized by genre or location. The Writers' Center in Bethesda also has programs. I go to a lunch every other week with a group of writers, and twice a year there is an informal dinner that draws as many as a hundred writers.

So this is making me feel at home. I've just found an agent to represent my latest novel (my last one was published in 1989), and it's helpful to feel like part of a community.

Amazing Grace

Sometimes a movie with a great script and great performances can be an exercise that a film buff appreciates without being very engaged. A recent example is "Notes on a Scandal" -- very well done but with three terribly unsympathetic characters and very little for a normal person to relate to.

"Amazing Grace" is in that category, like "Hotel Rwanda", where a great script and great performances also move you. This telling of William Wilberforce's long struggle to abolish the British slave trade is truly moving -- not least from the passion of Ioan Gruffudd (pronounced Griffith) as Wilberforce. There are many other marvelous performances -- the towering Albert Finney as hymnwriter John Newton, Michael Gambon as Charles Fox, Benedict Cumberbatch as William Pitt, even Jeremy Swift as the butler -- but this is Gruffud's movie. He is strong, weak, decisive, temporizing, passionate, discouraged, serious, winsome -- a range his earlier roles have not called for but which he carries off with great verve.

So great that such a good movie brings these names to life again for our times. And of course the story, how persistence -- real persistence over years and decades -- can win out even against the strongest of vested interests, is a timeless lesson and hopefully not lost on this generation.

The Dream Life of Sukhanov

Olga Grushin's debut novel works so well on so many levels that it deserves the attention it's getting. At the heart of the book -- at times lyrical, at times moving, and sometimes both -- is the challenge we all face in coming to terms with the disillusionment that accompanies growing old. Do we forgive ourselves for our compromises? Did we have any choice? Were the tradeoffs worth it?

All of these questions become much bigger in the Soviet Russia portrayed by Grushin. Entering into the world of the Soviet elite will be a new experience for most readers. Once the newness wears off, however, you see that this world is not so different from yours. The choices might seem more clearly drawn or more daunting, but really, they are much the same.

Grushin effortlessly weaves a plot between age and youth in three generations, switching points of view and even narrators so smoothly the reader scarcely notices. And it makes you see that life is a whole -- what we experience now, what our spotty memory holds on to from the past, what our hopes hold out for the future. For Grushin allow even Sukhanov, who has so much to be disillusioned about, hope for the future.