Intelligence: A Novel of the CIA

by Susan Hasler

I heard about this book on NPR, and it sounded interesting. Susan Hasler worked as a counter-terrorism analyst at the CIA for over two decades, and the NPR interview discussed some interesting topics like intelligence failures. So I requested the book from my local library and started it with some modestly high expectations. And while certain aspects of the book were illuminating and occasionally entertaining, Intelligence was a disappointment for me.

The basic story of Intelligence follows an analyst named Maddie James who suspects there is an impending terrorist attack on U.S. soil. She and her small team race against the clock and fight against incompetent superiors as they try to identify and prevent the attack. Intelligence is most successful at conveying the sheer volume of data and the near impossibility of accurately identifying threats to national security or American interests abroad. The frustration of the characters as they sift through endless intelligence reports and intercepts clearly comes from Hasler's own personal experience.

But the rest of novel is fairly sub-par. The writing is sophomoric, but at least it isn't too distracting. Hasler develops her own intra-organizational series of terms and metaphors, with analysts referring to the organization as the "mines." Everything has a mining or metalurgic slang term, like alchemists, mine shafts, veins, canaries, drilling down, etc. Regardless of whether this jargon is genuine (I suspect is not), it was used inconsistently and got on my nerves. Also annoying were the various sexual encounters of the characters during the crisis. Do intelligence analysts really jump into each other's beds in the midst of terrorist threats? For our country's sake, I hope not.

Unfortunately, the major flaws of Intelligence weren't limited to the common foibles of a writer's freshman offering of fiction. The terrorist attack involves model airplanes at a major league baseball park, and the plan is so elaborate that it strained even my willing suspension of disbelief. But this isn't a book about analysts versus terrorists. The terrorists are basically gone halfway through the book. The real bad guys are the incompetent and overly-ambitious administrators in the intelligence community and the corrupt and deceitful presidential administration that tries to parlay the threat into an excuse to invade Iran. Perhaps in the hands of a more skillful author these themes wouldn't be as forced and clumsy, but in Intelligence they come across as heavy-handed echoes of Bush-hatred that was so common during the time Hasler was writing the novel. By the end of the book, the character of Maddie James is so embittered and cynical that she almost loses her credibility to explain to the public what actually happened. In my estimation, the novel as a whole essentially shares that same fate.


(Cross-posted from my Book Report.)

Walk on by

My baby girl turned one year old this month, and she started walking right on time. I was a little surprised how fast she started walking, since a month ago she didn't show any interest. But as soon as she figured out how much easier bipedalism was, she started moving away from crawling. I suppose that our hard wooden floors may have had something to do with it—that must be hard on those chubby little knees. And since she has an older sister to chase, she had incentive to learn how to walk quickly. So quickly, in fact, that we have hardly any pictures yet of her walking. I need to rectify that soon.

Walking has changed my perception of my daughter too. She doesn't seem like a baby as much. And now that she's more in control of her mobility, she's much more assertive. She's her own little person, with distinct opinions, and don't you forget it. Yesterday she walked past the living room where I was sitting, grinned at me, and then walked into the other room. She seemed so much older than just a couple days ago. She still wants to be held a lot, but this is one of the first steps in her independence from her parents. I'm trying to fix these moments in my mind, so that when she is in the throes of teenage angst and doesn't even want to be seen with her parents, I'll remember the simpler times.

When my oldest was a baby we taught her modified sign language, so she could sign for "more" or "all done" or "ouch" or "eat." It was very useful, and kept her from getting as frustrated. But we somehow didn't do that with my one-year-old. I don't know if we were just too busy with two kids to concentrate on teaching it to her, or whether she just wasn't that interested. She did the usual crying, reaching, and laughing that all babies do, so there was no lack of expressiveness to our inquiries. But recently she has learned the sign for all done, which makes eating time easier. Instead of pitching a fit in the high chair, she signs that she's done and we let her down. My favorite part is that she waves her hands above her head like a football referee motioning where the ball will be placed, which isn't how it's supposed to be signed, but we still get the idea.

Walls of Jericho

Last weekend my friend Wade and I made a quick trip down to the Walls of Jericho, a cool area right on the Tennessee/Alabama border. I had hiked it once from the Alabama side in January, but the hike was very different this time because we came from the less-developed Tennessee trailhead, and because it was muggy and hot instead of freezing cold.

The water level was so low that it didn't make for very good pictures. But we spotted quite a few salamanders, frogs, and other creepy crawlies. Wade was particularly interested in the red efts, which apparently are the land-dwelling juvenile stage of certain long-lived salamanders.

Me standing in the amphitheater of the Walls of Jericho. I'm trying to get satellite signal for my GPS unit so I could find a geocache, but the walls blocked out the signal. (Photo by Wade.)

The Walls of Jericho have a portion of a creek that travels underground and then comes out of a hole in the rocks. There wasn't much water flow, but this is the view from the hole, looking out at the amphitheater.

These bright little salamanders were all over the place. 

We think this is an eft. It has a drier skin than the salamanders, with a shorter body. It also had more sharply articulated limbs and moved much more slowly. (Photo by Wade.)

There were pools full of tadpoles, and these tiny little frogs were everywhere underfoot. Some were even smaller, but the really tiny ones didn't want to pose for a picture. (Photo by Wade.)

The weather was pretty humid. This is the last of the morning mist coming off the water. (Photo by Wade.)

My wife thought we were crazy for getting up at 3:30 to go hiking, and she was right. We were trying to get back in time for the USA-Ghana World Cup game, but we took longer than we wanted, so we didn't get back until the second half. Fortunately for us, the hiking was much more pleasant than our 2-1 loss to Ghana in overtime.

For Father's Day

A conversation with my daughter this morning:

Me: I like your new dress. You look so beautiful!

The girl: You look beautiful too, Daddy.

Thanks, kid. Not quite what I was expecting, but I'll take it.

My daughter excitedly presented me with a candy bar today, and some presents that she wanted to "open for me." I got some straps to attach extra cargo on my hiking backpack, and a chalk line. Food, hiking, and tools--that's pretty much a dad's trifecta right there.

In which we go to the theater

Last night Becca and I went to the opening night performance of the traveling production of Beauty and the Beast at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center. But before I talk about that, let's take a small quiz.

Which of the following events occurred during the performance?

   a. Small children screaming in the row behind us. 

   b. Woman texting on her iPhone during the entirety of the show.

   c. Boy making loud farting noises by blowing into his elbow.

   d. Children standing and pretending to conduct the musical numbers.

   e. All of the above.

I bought our tickets late last week when we persuaded my mother in law to watch the girls so we could go on a date. I knew that the show might be popular with families and children—this is Disney stuff, after all—so I decided not to get the Saturday matinee tickets to try to avoid the kiddie crowds. But it didn't matter, there were a ton of kids anyway, even though the show wrapped up after 10 pm. A lot of them were wearing princess dresses, which sort of figures. At any given moment you could hear one or two toddlers crying during the show, and I saw a lot of parents carrying asleep children out of the theater at the end of the performance. I empathized with many of those parents, who probably were dragged along by their young Disney Princess fans, or perhaps just wanted to go to a show and couldn't get a babysitter. But the young children and babies obviously should have never been there, and it was equally obvious that many of the boys would have rather stayed home.

There were other sorts of bad theater neighbors too. The four beer-swilling girls in halter dresses that first sat in front of us were annoying, but at least they stopped texting when the lights went out. I wouldn't have minded sharing space with them too much. Except they were intentionally sitting in the wrong seats, and when the two large family groups arrived to take those seats midway through the second musical number, there was one of those awkward "I think you're in our seats" moments. So instead, we had two textaholic moms and their several inattentive kids in front of us. Fart-noises boy and his sister, the cranky toddler, weren't actually as distracting as the moms. They kept taking grainy pictures of the stage with their iPhones and texting their friends. One of them texted so much that I had her unlock code memorized by intermission (1472). Also, in an unrelated note, I think blue jeans and t-shirts should be prohibited from the theater.

Despite our neighbors, we enjoyed the show. The strongest parts of the play come from the movie; the added music isn't nearly as good. The play is much more slap-stick than the cartoon film, which really plays to the child audience, but it weakens some of the characters. The Beast, for example, is supposed to be frightening at first and then sympathetic later on. But in the play, he clowns around and acts like a child, just like the rest of the characters, which doesn't make for an engaging romantic male lead. The acting was pretty good in general, although Mrs. Pott's irregular cockney accent was truly atrocious.

Some of my favorite parts include the clever puppeteering for the wolves, and the impressively acrobatic antics of LeFou. The "Be Our Guest" number was especially strong, and very entertaining. I sort of liked that the  major male roles, the Beast and Gaston, are barritones. No high-voiced girly men in this play. :-)

Strangely enough, seeing the play made me want to watch the movie again. It really is a very good movie, and it came out in a time when animated movies were not taken so seriously as they are now. And yet it was nominated for the Oscar for Best Picture. Maybe I'll sit down with the girls this weekend and have some bonding time with a Disney classic. It will probably involve some crying at times, and maybe some pretend conducting, but as long as I'm spared the perpetual texting and fart noises, I'll be happy.

Photo credit: Ian Muttoo.

The Nashville Flood: After the storm

Here's the second half of my account of last month's flood, if you're interested in reading about what happened after the storm. The usual password will get you in.

The Nashville Flood: During the storm

Today I posted a pretty lengthy post about last month's flooding here in Nashville. It has a lot of private details so I posted it on the private blog, but if you know the magic word (my last name, uncapitalized) you can go on over and give it a read.

Fun on Monday: How Green is Star Wars?

I often read The Joy of Tech, a thrice-weekly webcomic about technology, geeky things, and especially Apple-related topics. I really could care less about the Apple stuff, since I'm not a Mac fanboy, but the comic is quite funny overall. This one from last week is a little different than usual, but still quite funny. It manages to catch the Star Wars fan zeal and the absurdity of obsessive environmentalism in a single frame.

Thursday at the Police Academy

Just in time to squeak by my self-imposed midnight deadline, here's next-to-last post on the Police Academy. 

Wednesday at the Police Academy

Last week I wrote some blog posts about the Police Academy and scheduled them to be posted. I planned on finishing out my experience, but a little thing happened that changed my plans. My house was high and dry, but the flooding in Nashville destroyed several of my friends' houses. I'll write more about the whole experience once we finish the Police Academy posts, but the short version is that I spent the whole week helping my friends and neighbors gutting their houses so they could be salvaged and rebuilt. I didn't do any blogging, and I don't feel guilty at all. So the series will pick up with a week delay, starting with today's post about Wednesday at the Police Academy. As before, the post is password-protected, and the password is my last name.