Dying Words edition by K Patrick Conner Literature Fiction eBooks
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For the past eleven years, Graydon Hubbell, an aging reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle, has been assigned to write obituaries, working in a corner of the newsroom that has long been referred to as Section Eight, an oblique reference to the section of the U.S. military code that provides for a discharge on the grounds of insanity. For as long as anyone can remember, Section Eight has been occupied by a group of exceedingly eccentric and often impolitic reporters, and Hubbell and his colleagues certainly uphold that tradition.
Like most of his colleagues, Hubbell initially regarded writing obituaries as a distinctly morbid assignment made all the more unpleasant by having to deal with the grieving families of the deceased. But over time he has come to appreciate the obituary as both a staple of daily journalism and an art form in its own right, and he now likes to think that he has become as capable of writing a final salute to the rich and powerful as of composing a simple farewell for the eccentric and the notorious.
Then Hubbell learns that he is dying. He has been diagnosed with an insidious form of blood cancer that frequently strikes the elderly, in many cases, like Hubbell's, presenting no symptoms until it is essentially too late to offer any treatment. Confiding only in his colleagues in Section Eight, and his neighbor, Lydia Gifford, a free spirit and former flower child, Hubbell is determined to work at the newspaper as long as he possibly can. But as his disease progresses, and as his career comes apart through a series of increasingly absurd mistakes, mishaps and confrontations, Hubbell is forced to come to terms with the fact that his own life is coming to an end.
Written with humor and pathos, “Dying Words” is a novel about mortality and remembrance, the story of an aging newspaper reporter less afraid of dying than of being forgotten.
Dying Words edition by K Patrick Conner Literature Fiction eBooks
In 37 years as a reporter, nearly 27 of them at the late, great SF Chronicle, I have written a few obituaries. Some people I "buried" were famous, like blues guitarist Michael Bloomfield or jazz great Earl Fatha Hines; some were obscure, like Ed Penaat, the SFPD beat cop who joined the Army in WWII, worked his way up to the rank of major general, then quietly went back to walking a beat in the city when the war was over.The toughest assignments were the society wives who never seemed to have done anything noteworthy but marry some big shot. Scraping together enough material on them to fill a dozen paragraphs was tough but necessary -- particularly if they happened to be married to somebody who was a friend of the DeYoung or Theiriot families who owned the paper.
Nonetheless, every single obit I wrote was fascinating -- not because I was such a hot-shot writer, but because people - particularly in this part of California -- live the most interesting lives, and a news obituary gives you the privilege and challenge of capsulizing it for readers.
In his novel, "Dying Words," K. Patrick Conner introduces us to Graydon Hubbell, a fictional 76-year-old former investigative reporter who does just that for a living.
In Conner's novel, reporter Hubbell has been relegated to the paper's "dead page" - the section of the paper that contains paid death notices and staff-written bios of the recently deceased - as an antiquated relic. Hubbell writes obituaries for the Voice of the West. In fact, as the paper's lead and only obituary writer, he does nothing else.
Hubbell's knees are shot, to borrow a metaphor from the sports beat; he can no longer cut it as a newsman for a paper that has replaced its seasoned veterans with recent J-school grads willing to accept the niggardly wages and benefits the Chronicle's penurious parent, the Hearst Corporation, is willing to pay them.
He, like his chums who infest the area of the Chronicle newsroom known as "Section 8," has only one real value: he is another warm body who can be sacrificed to the perpetual buyouts and layoffs the newspaper is using in a desperate effort to get in the black.
"Dying Words" recounts Hubbell's short-lived triumphs and ultimate humiliation during his last days at the Chronicle, a publication that, like its obituary writer, is in terminal decline. As portrayed by Conner, the Chronicle has been reduced to a shadow of its former greatness, hemorrhaging readers by the bucketful and gushing enough red ink to fill Lake Merced. Conner knows his subject well: he was an editor at the Chronicle for many years and left during one of the paper's many staff reductions.
Although Conner has fictionalized the Chronicle for his novel, it is clearly recognizable to former staffers. His brief description of its cannibalization after the Hearst Corporation bought it from the Theiriot family in 2000 has the ring of truth: I was there until 2006, myself, so I have more than a passing acquaintanceship with those facts.
(Full disclosure: I worked closely with Conner until I left and considered him one of the best editors I had at the paper. He was boundlessly enthusiastic for the stories his crew worked on and quick to defend them from critics both inside and outside the newspaper.)
Conner's novel is strictly a slice of life. Unlike "State of Play" or "Call Northside 777," there is no ingenious plot line, no journalistic heroism, no exposé of dark doings at City Hall, correction of a grave injustices, or exoneration of an innocent wrongly accused.
It also is no "Front Page." While humorous incidents are sprinkled throughout "Dying Words," there is little laugh-out-loud hilarity; by and large, the novel has a sober tone that is appropriate for a story about a man in a dying industry who has essentially run out his string as a professional.
What the book does have are some memorable characters, well-turned dialog and a gentle narrative arc that I think most readers will find engaging.
Not that the book has no flaws: the employee diversity committee Hubbell is summoned before is cartoonish and stereotypical, undercutting Conner's serious point that daily newspapers like the Chronicle are dying in part because the aging, upper middle-class, largely white audience they once served is becoming extinct.
And an obituary of a long-time fugitive from the law that Hubbell writes late in the book turns out to be a fake that would have been uncovered with a single phone call to the sheriff's office in Montana where the fugitive supposedly died in an auto wreck. "Dying Words" never explains why Hubbell didn't make that call immediately after being told the fugitive had been killed in a collision.
More to the point, even a newspaper that has fallen on hard times like the Chronicle would never run a page one obituary on a fugitive who evaded police for more than forty years without a whole package of sidebars and companion pieces, including a chronology or "tick tock" on the dead man's final hours. Probably half the newsroom would be assigned to put the package together. And once all those other reporters were unleashed on the story, does it really seem likely that nobody would call the sheriff for a detailed account of the accident that supposedly took the man's life?
But picking apart discrepancies like these is missing the point of the book. "Dying Words" is a paean to a disappearing breed - the legendary hat-wearing, hard-drinking newspaperman; it is also a farewell kiss to a lowly form of literature that once informed and amused most of the residents of America's urban centers: the metropolitan daily newspaper.
What Conner has given us is a fine obituary of both, marked "hold for release" when the decedent is finally ready for burial. And, like his protagonist, Graydon Hubbell, Conner makes this obit sing.
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Dying Words edition by K Patrick Conner Literature Fiction eBooks Reviews
This is a quiet, profound novel about a man facing the ultimate challenges of life with dignity, grace and a sustaining sense of humor. I enjoyed this book immensely. The writing is detailed, finely textured and nuanced, showing us the world through the fading clarity of strong prescription lenses. The author takes us inside the mind (and heart) of an aging reporter on a struggling daily newspaper (part of the "dying words" of "Dying Words"), surrounding his inner journey with a cast of humorous characters drawn from both old and new San Francisco. For people who appreciate solid writing and a nuanced view of their fellow humans, "Dying Words" will fill the bill. Well worth the time and money.
Not finished with the book yet. So far I find it interesting because I'm originally from SF area and relate to the story.
A good story that made me chuckle many times. Don't let the title fool you, it is a good read.
This book surprised me. It is beautifully written and totally believable. It made me nostalgic for a by-gone time when maybe life was simpler and richer.
The stately, aloof style of Conner's "Dying Words" sometimes suggests Henry Fielding and then splashes us with the grit and grime of modern profanity. Oh gentle reader, you will laugh aloud. I did.
Genteel protagonist Hubbel views his distant past and diminishing future while examining his present with forensic surgical tongs. He at last embraces life just as it slips away. I recommend that you embrace this book.
Great story, was sorry to see it end.
Graydon Hubbell, The Senator, Poopdeck, Jennings and Ms. Gifford made me laugh out loud and cry a little, too. Thank you, K. Patrick Conner for bringing these lively characters into my life for a few hours. Relished reading a story based in San Francisco, where my copy of the Chronicle is delivered to my doorstep every day. We need dedicated journalists now more than ever. The Chronicle's loss is our gain.
In 37 years as a reporter, nearly 27 of them at the late, great SF Chronicle, I have written a few obituaries. Some people I "buried" were famous, like blues guitarist Michael Bloomfield or jazz great Earl Fatha Hines; some were obscure, like Ed Penaat, the SFPD beat cop who joined the Army in WWII, worked his way up to the rank of major general, then quietly went back to walking a beat in the city when the war was over.
The toughest assignments were the society wives who never seemed to have done anything noteworthy but marry some big shot. Scraping together enough material on them to fill a dozen paragraphs was tough but necessary -- particularly if they happened to be married to somebody who was a friend of the DeYoung or Theiriot families who owned the paper.
Nonetheless, every single obit I wrote was fascinating -- not because I was such a hot-shot writer, but because people - particularly in this part of California -- live the most interesting lives, and a news obituary gives you the privilege and challenge of capsulizing it for readers.
In his novel, "Dying Words," K. Patrick Conner introduces us to Graydon Hubbell, a fictional 76-year-old former investigative reporter who does just that for a living.
In Conner's novel, reporter Hubbell has been relegated to the paper's "dead page" - the section of the paper that contains paid death notices and staff-written bios of the recently deceased - as an antiquated relic. Hubbell writes obituaries for the Voice of the West. In fact, as the paper's lead and only obituary writer, he does nothing else.
Hubbell's knees are shot, to borrow a metaphor from the sports beat; he can no longer cut it as a newsman for a paper that has replaced its seasoned veterans with recent J-school grads willing to accept the niggardly wages and benefits the Chronicle's penurious parent, the Hearst Corporation, is willing to pay them.
He, like his chums who infest the area of the Chronicle newsroom known as "Section 8," has only one real value he is another warm body who can be sacrificed to the perpetual buyouts and layoffs the newspaper is using in a desperate effort to get in the black.
"Dying Words" recounts Hubbell's short-lived triumphs and ultimate humiliation during his last days at the Chronicle, a publication that, like its obituary writer, is in terminal decline. As portrayed by Conner, the Chronicle has been reduced to a shadow of its former greatness, hemorrhaging readers by the bucketful and gushing enough red ink to fill Lake Merced. Conner knows his subject well he was an editor at the Chronicle for many years and left during one of the paper's many staff reductions.
Although Conner has fictionalized the Chronicle for his novel, it is clearly recognizable to former staffers. His brief description of its cannibalization after the Hearst Corporation bought it from the Theiriot family in 2000 has the ring of truth I was there until 2006, myself, so I have more than a passing acquaintanceship with those facts.
(Full disclosure I worked closely with Conner until I left and considered him one of the best editors I had at the paper. He was boundlessly enthusiastic for the stories his crew worked on and quick to defend them from critics both inside and outside the newspaper.)
Conner's novel is strictly a slice of life. Unlike "State of Play" or "Call Northside 777," there is no ingenious plot line, no journalistic heroism, no exposé of dark doings at City Hall, correction of a grave injustices, or exoneration of an innocent wrongly accused.
It also is no "Front Page." While humorous incidents are sprinkled throughout "Dying Words," there is little laugh-out-loud hilarity; by and large, the novel has a sober tone that is appropriate for a story about a man in a dying industry who has essentially run out his string as a professional.
What the book does have are some memorable characters, well-turned dialog and a gentle narrative arc that I think most readers will find engaging.
Not that the book has no flaws the employee diversity committee Hubbell is summoned before is cartoonish and stereotypical, undercutting Conner's serious point that daily newspapers like the Chronicle are dying in part because the aging, upper middle-class, largely white audience they once served is becoming extinct.
And an obituary of a long-time fugitive from the law that Hubbell writes late in the book turns out to be a fake that would have been uncovered with a single phone call to the sheriff's office in Montana where the fugitive supposedly died in an auto wreck. "Dying Words" never explains why Hubbell didn't make that call immediately after being told the fugitive had been killed in a collision.
More to the point, even a newspaper that has fallen on hard times like the Chronicle would never run a page one obituary on a fugitive who evaded police for more than forty years without a whole package of sidebars and companion pieces, including a chronology or "tick tock" on the dead man's final hours. Probably half the newsroom would be assigned to put the package together. And once all those other reporters were unleashed on the story, does it really seem likely that nobody would call the sheriff for a detailed account of the accident that supposedly took the man's life?
But picking apart discrepancies like these is missing the point of the book. "Dying Words" is a paean to a disappearing breed - the legendary hat-wearing, hard-drinking newspaperman; it is also a farewell kiss to a lowly form of literature that once informed and amused most of the residents of America's urban centers the metropolitan daily newspaper.
What Conner has given us is a fine obituary of both, marked "hold for release" when the decedent is finally ready for burial. And, like his protagonist, Graydon Hubbell, Conner makes this obit sing.
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