Archive August 2011
|Bangkok’s Illegal Gambling Casinos : Throwing the Dice and Not Going to Jail
Law enforcement works on the implicit premise that the officials it employs are obligated to prevent crime, and when a crime does occur, they are detailed to solve the crime, arrest the criminals, process them through the courts and finally, upon conviction, off the wrongdoer goes in leg irons (in Thailand anyway) to prison and a steady diet of red rice.
That is the theory. But isn’t this a grand social illusion that most people are guilty of participating in? How is the way illegal gambling addressed in law enforcement substantively different from your average conjurer’s sleight of hand, the skilled the magician appears to make a ball under a cup ‘disappear’? We like illusionists because although we know it isn’t real magic, we can’t help being fooled because the ‘trick’ of fooling us is so believable, so well hidden.
I want to talk about the hidden ‘trick’ that makes the illusion of illegal gambling disappear.
Hypocrisy is part of the equation used by our police and politicians. This involves saying one thing while doing something that isn’t only different; it is the opposite. All human beings sooner or later revert to hypocrisy. The compliment paid to a friend or relative or colleague about his or her dress, hair, car, promotion at work—name your poison—may be false but your phony approval smoothes the social relationship. Magicians, illusionists, and hypocrites master the art of making us believe what we know isn’t really true. They let us believe what they wish us to believe is real, even though we know there is a reality hidden from view.
When the cops enter this game, it can become entertaining and provide an interesting look at the role of policing and the political process, which ultimately has responsibility for keeping the police on the straight and narrow. We witnessed recently how the UK phone hacking scandal dragged both the police and politicians through the muddy banks of awkward questions as to how and why News of the World could have carried on a course of action for so long without anyone in charge of law enforcement knowing. Or how that management of Murdoch’s empire had no idea what had happened, when it happened, who was involved and certainly would have blown the whistle had they received knowledge of the hacking.
Closer to home, Thailand’s English language daily newspapers have been devoting considerable ink to stories of illegal gambling casinos operating in Bangkok. At the beginning the scandal, the police brass in a very Murdock-like posture insisted there were no illegal casinos in Bangkok. Then a newly elected politician, who had firsthand knowledge of local policing from his massage parlor days, produced video footage of such an illegal casino. He caught the illegal operation on film! Technology lifted the veil and there it was for the whole world to see.
The editor of the Bangkok Post wrote an op-ed piece pointing out the location of illegal casinos by various streets and districts in Bangkok. And that was likely the tip of an iceberg that is apparently immune to the political equivalent of global warming. No actual addresses, mind you, were supplied but most people could figure out how to find them. Sangsit Piriyarangsan, chairman of the doctorate degree course of study on governance development at Chandarakasem Rajabhat University, has done research to show there are more than 170 gambling dens in Bangkok, and around 700,000 to one million gambling dens operating elsewhere in Thailand. I am not certain how a den is defined, but apparently mobile ones appear at funerals so mourners don’t miss out on the chance to place a bet. If you add the casinos and dens up the sum comes to more than total number of the Starbucks, 7-Eleven stores, KFCs, McDonalds along with other fast food chains together.
It’s hard to keep that level of business illegal activity a secret. Someone’s gonna talk. And a lot of people in Thailand are now talking and pointing fingers, wagging fingers, frowning and otherwise expressing their official disapproval.
It seems about every neighborhood has some illegal gambling operation and is permitted to operate by paying off the police and/or maintaining good relations with the right politicians. It is prevalent as the 30 baht health care. Like Bogart in Casablanca, the head cop shows up at Rick’s, takes the white envelope and orders his men to round up the usual suspects. In essence, illegal gambling is a joint venture operation. Society knows it is there. Hypocrisy ensures that illegal casinos are officially condemned as against the law.
There are periodic ‘busts’ and someone gets nominated to take the fall. He (or sometimes she) is hauled for a slap on the wrist and is back dealing blackjack before nightfall. Wink and nod, but the real business of gambling continues without interruption. People who gamble had no problem finding a place to place their bets. Those who run the casinos and the authorities make a tidy, tax-free profit. Illegal gambling in other words is all unregulated gravy, and everyone likes being on a gravy train.
And what a gravy train it is as Mr. Sangsit estimates 2 to 8 billion baht is kicked back to the police. This represents the annual amount the police are estimated to receive according to Mr. Sangsit. Forget about trains. This is a tsunami of cash that roars through the police department every year. It would take a Guinness Book-sized white envelope to stuff that much cash into. It doesn’t stop there. The casino operators rake off a cool 38 to 40 billion baht of profit each year. If this was a company listed on the SET it would have one of the largest capitalization of all companies with shares publicly sold. But this is a private affair. You can’t buy shares in illegal casinos or dens. But you might want to consider buying the Thai rights to Casino Gambling for Dummies.
This takes me to my next point. Why not legalize gambling, bring into the open, regulate it, tax it, make it part of an entertainment complex open to the general public? Singapore and Malaysia have done this—shutting down the gravy train, and turning it into public transport. That decision takes an enormous act of political will.
The advocates of legalization will run head long into those who for moral or religious reasons will take to the streets to protest that the government is about to doom its youth, its workers, its mothers and fathers to a degraded life. And the government would be directly responsible for feeding their addiction, these impulses that should be controlled. What politician wants to be labeled as an enabler to increase the number of dysfunctional families? Besides, politicians also ride the illegal casino gravy train so it isn’t that difficult for them to agree that legalizing gambling would mark the end of civilization, the disbandment of families, loose morals, and the destruction of the work ethic.
Or a conflict of interest under another name.
Hypocrisy is a wonderful common ground that the politicians and those against reform share to their mutual interest. Gambling continues. Those enriched by the underground system, grow richer, and nothing changes because no one has a better explanation than that gambling is immoral, bad or sinful. In reality, such moralizing never offers a good explanation as to the nature of change in human behavior that includes risk taking. If instead of looking at the problem of gambling as solvable through moral lectures and training—a time-honoured technique with an unbroken multi-century record of failure—why not try something else. Illegal gambling is the hallmark of a static system supported by moral guardians.
With a million illegal gambling casinos in Thailand one could conclude that deterrence of the existing laws have failed. The threat of punishment has failed. The law is dysfunctional. Those in charge of making and enforcing the law are complicit in maintaining a system that clearly privatizes illegal gambling for the benefit of the operators, the police and politicians.
Gamblers are risk takers and will find a way to place their bets. Finite resources are wagered in the hope of increasing them. People who gamble want to become richer. Gambling promises them wealth. Gamblers think of themselves as possible winners even when they lose, they feel that their bad luck with turn. This is the same irrational place where religion and most of morality serves up sermons. Sermons, however, are not good explanations. Gamblers, as history demonstrates, are willing to bet against afterlife punishment and guilt is no barrier.
Gambling is a human problem in want of a solution. Making it illegal is obviously not a solution that works. As the scandal of the illegal gambling casinos spread, heads have rolled in the Thai police force, including the Chief of Police and a police van full of generals will likely find themselves in inactivity position. But if history is any guide, new heads will replace the old ones and business will continue as usual. That tsunami of cash is far too tempting. Changing faces will not stem the temptation and corruption. The prospects for the next lot of senior police no better than those they replaced.
If a country was serious about reducing the desire for gambling and the number of people who gamble, they could do that with basic education in schools starting from a very young age. Probability and game theory through a series of games and exercises would soon instruct children that the odds of winning have nothing to do with lucky charms, magical potions or chants, or appeals to the gods. The odds can be calculated in advance whether you will win rolling dice, playing blackjack, a slot machine or any other game of chance. Probability will teach children that there is no luck, no belief system or supernatural force that will intervene on your behalf in gambling.
We don’t teach children that predicting outcomes is a risky business. We withhold from them the brutal truth—which all predictions about an outcome, call it a bet, should be discounted as they contain false starts, misconceptions, bad information, biases, rumors, and wishful thinking. Politicians exploit this flaw to their own benefit by promising to predict events in the future. It isn’t just the Thais or politicians who get this wrong. The great hedge fund crash is another example of moving the illegal casinos into Wall Street, putting lipstick on that pig, and calling it an investment rather than a gamble. And many people put up their house on that premise.
There is an equation. That equation always favors the house. Predictions are uncertain and likely wrong. It is like predicting the weather tomorrow or next week. Gambling makes a few very wealthy because of the vast number of losers who believe they will be winners. And although someone may win a number of games, the sad, cruel reality is that they will always turn up losers.
You start to understand why the moral guardians would like that even less than gambling as it strikes at the heart of their way of looking at the world. A solution that shifts the worldview by showing a scientific way of looking at risk taking might be useful to examine in the role of religion and morality in this class of crimes.
For corrupt politicians, police and the illegal gambling operators, they are far more comfortable dealing with the moral keepers of society. This becomes a pact of those who put stock in the irrational belief that continuation of the existing system, so long as the current crop of corrupt generals are disgraced and punished, is the best approach. With those fresh new police officers, the problem of illegal casinos will vanish. One shouldn’t look over the political opportunity when a new government comes in and looks for a reason to cull the existing police brass appointed by the previous government. It’s apparently not that difficult to implicate them in the gambling business. And what can the opposition do in such circumstances? Say they are going to the streets to support corrupt police generals? It is a perfect, almost free way to slay your opponents and come out looking like a moral hero.
Between calculated political advantage any government can have over the police, combined with magical, primitive thinking about the horrors of gambling, it is guaranteed the unbroken run of good luck of illegal casino and den owners will continue. Morality and amoral politicians are a powerful force and they somehow always ends indirectly supporting the side of the illegal operators. And perhaps that is one of the inherent flaws of morality in the realm of gambling; it proceeds without any sense of irony, any acknowledgment of the contradictions that the devil’s best friend is the most pious among us.
The worse aspect of widespread disrespect for the law, which is what illegal gambling on this scale represents, is it spreads alienation, cynicism, and pessimism. But the true damage is at a deeper layer. The police and politicians are compromised, their duty to the public in conflict with their private interest. Reform is to harness that huge wall of cash and channel it into public reservoirs for public use. It is our drinking water in other words.
Despite the latest crackdown in Bangkok, if you want to place a bet, I’d say the odds are in your favourite if you bet, that like Rick’s Café in Casablanca, the show will go on. Just don’t ask the piano player to play that song. To the melody of “You Must Remember This,” I leave you with a parting thought as you stand on that tarmac a smiling cop at your side as you watch the plane with your sweetheart take off, “No one gets hurt, no one dies, and everyone gets the same chance to lose.”
|No Need to Remove Your Shoes
Red light means stop; green light means go; and yellow light is proceed with caution. Except Thai drivers have a way of blurring the meaning of traffic lights. Signaling what is expected, what is wanted, or what one can get away with are mentally built from the cultural bricks of education, family, friends and neighbors. Simple signals such as yes, and no, like traffic signals aren’t always to be relied upon.
In Thai culture, it is a well-established tradition that before you enter the house of a Thai, you first remove your shoes. The feet, according to local custom, are the lowest part of the body. Walking on streets and pavements makes for dirty shoes. There are a couple of levels at work. First, your feet (and everybody else’s) occupy the lowest realm (pointing with your foot at someone is a major cultural gaff). Second, there are some practical health issues packaged with living in the tropics. Dog shit is one. Along with various parasites and bacteria which have been known to hitch a ride on people’s shoes and into their houses.
Even though this ‘shoe’ feature of Thai culture (it’s more like a fetish) can be found in every travel guide ever written about Thailand, it is not uncommon to find a foreigner walking straight into a Thai house as the horrified Thai hosts watch the clump, clump of shoes leaving the equivalent of CSI chalk lines outlining a dead body.
I have a good Thai friend who tells the story of his mother, one of those well-educated, well-read, articulate women I’ve met. A couple of foreigners were taken by my Thai friend to visit his mother. At the door, the foreigners (obviously having read a guidebook) had begun to remove their shoes. The mother insisted that wasn’t necessary. They looked at each other, they looked at the mother, and she repeated that they were welcome to keep on their shoes. So inside the house they went wearing their shoes.
An hour later the foreigners left, and mother and son closed the door. The mother sighed, shaking her head.
“What’s wrong, mother?” my Thai friend asked.
“You know what’s wrong,” she said.
He had an idea what she was getting at but at the same time didn’t want to guess.
“I don’t understand, mother.”
“Your friends walked through my house in their shoes. Why are foreigners so rude? Don’t they understand the most simple thing about Thai culture?”
“But you told them not to remove their shoes. I heard you, mother.”
She looked at him, slowly shaking her head, as if the foreigners had infected his mind.
“Aren’t they aware in Thai culture, that you always remove your shoes? I thought you said these foreigners knew Thailand.”
“They thought you’d made an exception,” he said.
“There are no exceptions. Shoes off. Always.”
He had to admit that she was right. His mother had, as an act of graciousness and courtesy had made a concession to their foreign ways, which she understood to be different. Westerners had no problem trampling over the floors of others with their shoes on leaving a trail of dirt and disease. But they, if they knew Thailand, then these foreigners would also understand that his mother’s concession was not to be acted upon. In her mind, the situation was perfectly clear. The foreigners should have known that in reality her “yes, please keep your shoes on,” should have been translated by the foreigners as, “yes, let me remove my shoes.”
As the son later told me, his mother had assumed the foreigners could “read her mind” and instead they merely heard her words and took them at face value. In a culture where face does have a high value, a mind reading an essential element in social relationships, a foreigner should understand that it is often necessary to go behind the words and into the interior desire and real intention of the person. No one should expect a Thai to spell out her true wish when the rules are plainly, obviously clear and without ambiguity.
This story isn’t just about shoes. It is about the intentions of people communicating in a public space where political and social relationships demand everyone is working from the same cultural rulebook. Paying a restaurant bill is another variation on this theme. Mind reading is a definite plus in Thailand (and most places) but foreigners can rest assured that often Thais are no better than reading each others minds than someone from Kansas fresh from the airport racing into Bangkok to find the real Thailand.
Orginally published 30 July 2010 as Christopher is traveling abroad.
|WHEN TO STOP WRITING AND DO SOMETHING ELSE IN LIFE
I am trying to wrap my mind around the almost hysterical, obsessive need for people to become a published author. Mostly, I suspect, it is like one of those twist off caps on a cheap bottle of wine where the threads don’t quite catch right. There is a concentrated effort to get the cap off. More simply, getting into the publishing racket is another example of our need for acceptance in the crowd of strangers. We live in age where many people wish to stand out apart from the crowd as an accomplished worthy, special word genius. The problem is the number of people who want to stand out by writing books has become larger than the crowd that read and buy books.
Like most people I admired perseverance as a noble attribute. People who don’t easily give and roll over with the first wall in life they hit. People who pick themselves up and keep on going. That’s my kind of people. Pull up a chair, I raise a glass of OJ to your grit.
But there is a limit. I think I may have found where that fence is. There is a writer who blogs at Literary Rejection Display and he’s blogged about his 11,000 rejections on the way to getting 82 stories published. One publishing industry insider called this record of rejection “inspirational.”
Remember we are talking about rejection. That haunting word that has shadowed every kid from 11 years on. Who in defeat, looks back at the bully and says, “Yeah, I’ll show you.”
Let’s test this theory of what is inspirational inside the world of rejection. Forget about writing stories for a moment. Let’s say the person wishes more than anything to be a world-class marksman and reap the honor of that status with the larger world. He goes to the shooting range. Pulls out his rifle and goes through 11,000 rounds of ammo. He hits the target 82 times. Not a candidate for sniper’s school. But he doesn’t give up. He slaps in another clip and blasts away.
Or assume he’s a trainee pilot and manages to crash land a plane (let’s make that a different plane) 11,000 times but has 82 confirmed landings where the plane safely landed. The air force would likely not give him a set of wings. United Airlines might hire him. But do you seriously want him flying the plane you are in?
Or assume he builds custom cars on spec. His brochure says he personally built spec cars, which were rejected by 11,000 buyers but 82 cars he managed to sell. Do you want to buy or ride in one of his cars?
Or he bakes cakes which are rejected by the 11,000 cake tasters, who spit them out, drink water to wash away the bad taste and ultimately shopped for cakes elsewhere. Still 82 other cake buyers are bought one of his cakes, saying they were yummy. Would you eat the cake?
Would we find the marksman, trainee pilot, car builder and cake maker inspirational in light of their rejections? Or would we wonder how a person can take that kind of beating, wake up the next morning and knowing he had a .007 percent chance of success but still manages to pull out the rifle, get into the cockpit of the plane, go to the garage and assemble another spec car, or to kitchen to bake a cake, firing up the process of almost near certain rejection all over again?
It seems writing stories and books is a special areas of human activity that attracts so many people who willingly continue to persist despite the clear message that rejection delivers: you should devote your talents and energies to something with at least lottery type odds of success. I don’t have the answer to the question of why the continued effort to write when such a clear signal of rejection of a writer’s work indicates that he shouldn’t bother is inspirational? Other than one: It is difficult to let go of a dream. Especially if you believe that in time, with enough effort, the dream can come true.
The harsh reality is that not everyone can play the violin, swim, run, shoot, cook, sing, dance or tell jokes at a professional level. There is a certain level that defines success. It is where a commercial enterprise that depends on turning a profit will pay money in order to support the talent. A big talent brings in a lot of money. Sponsors will pay money to be associated with the skill and talent. Perhaps in sports it is easier to know who has won and who has lost. It is objective. There are cameras at the finish line. Sensors at the end of the pool pick up the first touch. There is no arguing the toss. No bellyaching that a winner is made a loser because the gatekeepers don’t recognize talent. Losing 11,000 times isn’t professional talent. It is by definition not professional. The pitcher who throws 82 strikes is a hero, and can play for the Yankees. But if he throws 11,000 balls into the dirt in order to get 82 strikes, no one is going to write an inspirational movie about that player’s devotion to the game and how the Yankees were damn fools to overlook him.
In writing, the general feeling is that, well, it is all feeling, subjective, and if you tunnel away long enough, you can burrow under the gatekeepers wall and moat, breach the inner walls, and do a victory dance, holding up the published story or book, showing the world you are a winner after all.
No one likes rejection. The reality of the world is that truly talented people with unique abilities and rare talents and skills are a small percentage of the total population. The rest of us admire such people. We watch them perform. We benefit from such performances in many different ways. The problem emerges when we delude ourselves into telling ourselves, “Hey, I can write cozy novels just like Cakes Copeland.” Or “I can tell jokes better than David Letterman.” Or “I can write a novel better than Dan Brown.”
I know. The first and last example is what gives all that false hope. No one truly believes the network should dump Letterman and hire him as the replacement. Being funny is more than just hard work. Like writing a story or book.
I don’t know what the magic number is before a writer should move on. But I’d say it isn’t the 11,000 elevation, the K2 of rejection. A heavy weight boxer that takes 11,000 body punches while throwing 82 deserves a place in Guinness Book of World Records for continuing to stand in the ring. But inspiration isn’t the word that comes to mind when you look at the boxer who has taken that beating. Sadness is closer to the mark, a sadness that comes from understanding that we occupy a world where no one has the balls to tell the boxer that the fight is over. We tell him that because he’s still standing on his feet after such punishment that he is inspirational. Instead we should be telling him throw in the towel, take a shower, go home, devote what precious time he has left on this earth for and with family, friends, and community. Inside that place, he is more likely to make a difference, have more impact and a life with more meaning. There are things in life other than writing stories, books and films from which self-worth and accomplishment can be achieved. And just maybe those are things that, in the long run, should be valued more, seen as more significant than a published book with one’s name on the spine and front cover.
But wait one moment. Rejection has a certain meaning in the old world of publishing. Will that change as publishing migrates online and ebooks multiply like fireflies around the porch light? No question about it, change is already here. We are entering an new digital age where the old notion of rejection of book will radically alter. No one will have the patience to accumulate 11,000 rejections. They won’t need to wait for one rejection from a traditional publisher. Here’s why. Everyone now has access to make their books available to the whole world by simply uploading it. Others will be invited to read, download, buy or share it. In this new age of publishing, rejection will gather a new meaning. But it won’t be rejection at the gateway to readers.
It will be inside the beltway of readers that rejection will bite like a pit bull.
In this new world where everyone can claim to be an author, rejection will come as “authors” realize that only 82 of every 11,000 online authors are worth reading and indeed are read. The book with a few hits will become the new measurement of rejection. There will be sly ways sold to online authors to pump up their number of readers. That will soon be exposed as fraud. Rejection will be coded in new ways. Don’t think technology will abolish it. That won’t happen. People will still complain and wail of the unfairness of it all. In the end, old age, new age publishing, the bottom line is pretty much the same. There are only a small number of authors worth reading. Making it easier to be “published” doesn’t make it any easier to attract an audience.
Great or even good writing is rare. If you are an avid reader, finding an author you want to read has always been like panning for gold. In the future, readers will miss the old publishing system, imperfect as it was, when editors and agents waded into the murky waters, panning for gold. They published stuff that wasn’t gold. But that is only human. Readers have great expectations when they read a story or book or poem and most of them hate going through tons of gravel looking for a few specs of gold. Instead of those polite, meaningless form letters from traditional publishers, readers may not be so kind when their anger and disappointment of reading an inferior work causes them to shout insults. If I had to make a prediction, rejection is set to become much nastier, personal, and demoralizing. The new crop of authors will look back with longing at how civilized the old world of rejection really was.
Orginally published 26 February 2010 as Christopher is traveling abroad.
|IN WHAT ASIAN CITY SHOULD I SET MY CRIME NOVEL?
Like most writers, I
receive emails from readers. Often they are comments about a particular book.
Others write with suggestions and ideas for books. Still a few are people who
seek advice about writing crime fiction.
I received an email from a
reader who wrote:
“I’m working on a crime novel and
recently completed my first draft. My dilemma is that I have no idea
which city to set it in. The story’s current setting in Los Angeles, but
I’m thinking of changing and starting over. Conventional wisdom and research
into past bestseller lists suggests setting the story in either the U.S. or a
European capital city and have it involve western characters and values. But the
recent shift of power and money to Asia, particularly China, and the
fast-growing sales of novels in countries like China and India, is changing
everything. Not to mention the huge tourism numbers in places like Thailand and
So I’m thinking of doing the
opposite of most and setting my novels in Asia and finding a niche market there
like you do, Christopher. ‘The fishing is best where the fewest go’, as my
grandfather used to say. For example, I’m thinking of the capitals
of Vietnam, Philippines, Indonesia or Malaysia as a setting as no other
western author is writing crime fiction there, to the best of my
What do you think? Does the rise of
China and Asia mean that it’s better for new authors to write stories set in
Asia? And which city in S.E Asia do you think would be a good place to write
I have been thinking over
the best way to reply. In the past, when I’ve spoken before various groups about
the Vincent Calvino series, I tell the story of how almost twenty years ago when
after Spirit House had been published that my literary agent at the
time wrote (we didn’t have email then) about a US publisher who liked the novel
and wondered if I could change the setting from Bangkok to Boston. I wrote her
back, “Is it okay if I leave everything else the same?” Apparently the answer
was ‘no’ as the publisher failed to press ahead.
If you examine the authors
who write on this blog, you’ll find a common thread. We all have lived for many
years or spent many years in the culture and place where we set our fiction. I
think of Matt Rees’s Omar Yussef
mysteries, Colin Cotterill’s Dr. Siri’s
mysteries, Barbara Nadel’s Inspector Ikman’s
mysteries, Quentin Bate’s Iceland mysteries, Margie Orford’s South African
mysteries, and Conor Fitzgerald’s Commissioner Alec Blume
series set in Italy—the common thread is each of these writers has
been immersed in the culture, the history, the language and the psychology of
the place where they’ve set their fiction.
It would be difficult to
imagine substituting another city or country in books written by my colleagues
on this blog. The reality is that their finely developed characters and actions
of the police, courts and other parts of the criminal justice system wouldn’t
connect with the underlying values, morals, sentiments, or experience of the
people who live, work, and are the victims of crimes in another
My advice is not to write
the novel first and then decide which city is ‘hot’ or ‘trendy’ and rewrite the
book, setting it in that place. The book I’d recommend you read is David Hume’s
An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding. No, it’s not a crime novel.
No, it’s not on The New York Times bestseller’s list. It is out of
copyright. You can download it free from the Internet. I urge you to do so. What
Hume teaches is the way to understanding is in experience and observation. The
testimony of men and women, the reports of witnesses and spectators, and we
apply our observations to the veracity of human testimony. It is one of the best
guides to interpreting your world, and any new world you wish to move
After you finish with
Hume, go to Peter Rozovsky’s Detectives Beyond
and work your way through the excellent archives, and discover first
hand the crime writers who are setting novels in foreign cities. You will learn
a lot about how these authors have successfully used a foreign country in a
There are no shortcuts. No
writing course, no how-to book, no mystery or crime convention that can deliver
the material that you will require to set the second draft of your crime novel
in a foreign culture.
There are a couple of
things that may be helpful and that you might want to keep in mind. Without the
experience of ‘place’ no matter how much you try to evolve the character and the
crime, your efforts will likely fail. You will have wasted your time and your
creative effort will have hit a brick wall. It’s not because you don’t have
talent or can’t write; it will be because you aren’t able to deliver a
meaningful sense of what it is to experience the place where your novel is
Our blog is written by
crime writers who have done a reality check on their own work and the books
written by others. Each of us (I am presuming to speak for the others and
welcome them to jump in on the comments) writes from our personal experience of
the place where we’ve placed our series. In my view, a writer who hasn’t spent a
significant time in a place won’t be able to hide the ignorance and no amount of
time on Google, YouTube, or GoogleMaps will substitute for your actual
experience in the place where your book is set.
Our readers buy our books
because they have faith that we can deliver a sense of ‘place’ that can’t be
found elsewhere. Not in magazines, newspapers, blogs, articles by the bushel
basket on the Internet. If there is a secret to why our books have a following,
it is a combination of our experience of place, our passion for the culture,
language and people, and our attention to the telling details that deliver a
deeper understanding of why things are the way they are in a foreign
The authors of this blog
aren’t tourists who’ve visited a place for a couple of weeks, made some notes,
returned “home” and worked them into a second draft of a book that was written
before we left. We speak the language of our respective cities. We dream in that
language. That’s not to say, everyone who picks up a novel cares about whether
the novel has any connection with the reality of a city, and peppering the story
with second-hand information wouldn’t be enough to satisfy many readers. In that
case, I’d ask if you’d be proud to have your name on the cover of such a passing
You might say, “I am not
writing for people who know these cities well. I writing a great story and
exotic locations will add an element to the atmosphere. And Asia is hot, and
people like exotic cities.”
My reply would be,
“There’s a place for all kinds of stories and ways of telling a story. One
factor to keep in mind: an author’s credibility as a storyteller depends on
whether the world he or she is creating is solely a product of imagination, or
whether he or she is asking the reader to believe the ‘place’ is a real,
authentic place. If it is the former, then write that second draft as science
fiction or fantasy. If it is the latter, find a city where you have the passion
for the food, people, weather, culture and history. Move there. Live there for a
year or two. Learn the language. Experience the culture. Then take out that
first draft and see how much of it makes sense when set in this new place that
By the way, best of luck
on that “fishing trip.” You have a chance to catch a trophy fish once you learn
from the locals who live in that Asian city the art of baiting the