Dave's Fiction Warehouse

W e’ve been watching “ The Americans ,” the FX series about two Soviet intelligence agents posing as a married-with-children couple to spy on the American government. Spoiler: this is not a documentary about Donald J. Trump and family. It’s set in the early ’80s. Therein lies the charm, I guess. It seems almost quaint to imagine the Russians bothering with deep-cover agents when they’ve pretty much got the run of the White House now — and when almost half of Americans are OK with it. Who would have guessed? The show premiered in 2013, but we’re latecomers, now just halfway through season 3. For some reason, it’s not a show we’ve cared to binge-watch. But two thumbs up so far. As a fantasy about Cold War espionage, it’s mostly preposterous but always entertaining. Things I really like: Keri Russell: Beautiful, lithe and lethal. If all spies were this charming and dangerous, we’d really be in trouble. One question: How does Elizabeth get all those wigs on over that beautiful head of hai...

F ilm noir of the week is “ Sudden Fear ,” starring Joan Crawford and Jack Palance. You weren’t aware of Film Noir of the Week? Yeah, that’s something I just came up with. I fully expect to forget about it over the next few days. Anyway, “Sudden Fear” is a perfectly respectable noir, made in 1951 just before all the conventions of the genre solidified into cliches. It’s shot in black and white, in a blissfully traffic-free San Francisco, with possibly the most evil-looking leading man in history. Mr. Nice Guy Jack Palance’s sharklike features and jet-black widow’s peak are a delight to behold, but they also work against the script in an unlikely way: No one could ever believe this guy would have anything but the worst of motives. Especially when he smiles. And yet Joan Crawford’s character — a wealthy, glamorous (of course) playwright — falls in love with him, marries him, and immediately decides to revise her will to leave him everything. You know, in the unlikely event of her death. ...

I wonder: Has the iPhone made the world a better place, or a worse one? Always a popular subject and more in vogue this month now that the iPhone has turned 10. (Any anniversary that’s a multiple of five is red meat to pundits caught in the dog days of summer.) And so Timothy Egan and David Brooks both have nice columns on the subject in the New York Times. Both regard smartphones in general as a mixed blessing at best. Tim Egan compares it to the printing press, if the printing press had only been used to disseminate total bullshit (hashtag #thatfuckingtrump). Brooks says the iPhone has made it too easy to cancel engagements, or bail on commitments of any kind. He wonders if that doesn’t dissolve the social glue that keeps us civilized. Both are valid points. When you have a device that “does everything,” “everything” presumably includes the bad as well as the good. Personally, I like the maps, the reviews, and being able to reliably coordinate an airport pickup. The rest of it I coul...

All dressed up and no place to go I haven’t posted for — what, five months now? — because every time I have an idea it somehow ends up with the phrase “that fucking Trump.” The original idea could be about television or books or movies, or gardening or the importance of regular oil changes, and still those words keep forcing themselves forward in the first paragraph. But I’m past it now. I figure it’s not up to me to forestall the end of Western civilization. My eight or so fans are already on board. If anybody else cares about it, let them step up. That fucking Trump. Meantime, I finally got around to watching the last two episodes of the sixth season of “Game of Thrones.” That’s how cutting-edge I am. I was loving the season last year about this time, and then my trial HBO subscription ran out. The hardest part was avoiding spoilers for 12 freaking months. Turns out I needn’t have bothered. Everything in the finale I saw coming a mile off. Ramsay Bolton was finally consumed by Rottwe...