BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE! As part of fan appreciation day I walked off with this fine commemorative figurine:

Now, having just been at Bouchercon, it occured to me that it can’t be that hard to churn out cheap pieces of crap like this. So why not for writers? I mean, who wouldn’t like a cruddy clay statue of John Connolly or S.J. Rozan, as turned out by slave-wage laborers? We could even make them in action poses. Who wouldn’t want a tiny statue of Robert Crais pounding a typewriter, scribbling in a notebook, or throwing back drinks at the Bouchercon bar.

Somebody really needs to make this happen. No, not me. Sorry, I’m busy.

So a little boat trip to Haiti seems like a good idea. Especially with a companion like Melba, beautiful and young. The fact that she’s wanted for murder is a bit of a turn-off, but at Bernie’s age he can’t be choosy. Things were going swimmingly right up until the United States Navy boards their boat, and Melba pulls a gun.

So begins Field Gray, Philip Kerr’s seventh novel about Bernie. This time Bernie isn’t the detective; he’s the suspect and the witness, questioned by US Army war crimes investigators, by the CIA, and by French intelligence. His story is the story of much of Europe, from the rising political thuggery in the early thirties, through invasions of France and Russia, to post-war chaos.

This is more a historical novel than a crime story, since there’s no crime to investigate, and since Bernie is no longer the tarnished knight he once was. In the early books of the series he still had the burning sense of justice that led him to quit the Berlin police rather than work for the Nazis, but as the years have passed he’s been forced to make compromises to stay alive. Now he’s weary, and nearly powerless. He can’t fight his captors, he can only insult them.

I’ve read all the books in this series, and in my opinion this is the finest. At the end of the book I was torn. Bernie deserves to find the peace he craves, but a peaceful retirement doesn’t leave much room for a sequel, now does it?

I thought that would make an interesting story, the unexpected life of someone who to exist in order to be mocked. Then I realized it’s already been done, in The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp.

The film begins in 1945. Preparations for the invasion are well underway. A young officer decides to prove a point by launching a training exercise – and “attack” on London – a day earlier than scheduled. When he captures the Home Guard general staff relaxing in a Turkish bath he’s berated by a pompous old officer, whose outdated ideas about “honor” and “chivalry” he dismisses out of hand.

We then flash back forty years, to 1902, when the pompous old officer was himself a dashing young lieutenant named Clive Candy. Hero of the Boer War, winner of the Victoria Cross, now returned to England. He doesn’t stay long, instead heading to Germany, where he manages to insult the army, with the result that he’s forced to fight a duel. Candy’s doesn’t care much for duelling, and his opponent – chosen by lot – also thinks it barbaric, but it’s a matter of honor, so they fight.

As they recover from their wounds they become fast friends. The German, Theo, falls in love with Candy’s friend Edith Hunter, and fears they must duel again for her hand, but Candy is delighted that his two great friends shall be together. Only later does he realize his own feeling for Edith.

Years pass, and Candy remains idealistic and a bit naive. By 1918 he’s clearly an anachronism, the old man who doesn’t understand the new rules of war. His old friend Theo, freed from a prisoner-of-war camp, can’t bring himself to believe that Candy and the British really are the well-meaning souls they claim to be, and they part on sad terms.

By the start of the second World War he’s not just out of date but potentially embarrasing, yet he’s never lost his sense of dignity. When Theo arrives in England, a refugee now, Candy intervenes to keep him from being interned. When Candy’s regular radio address is cancelled he berates the government functionary who gives him the word before falling silent, then saying, “Sir, my deepest apologies. I know it isn’t you.”

A summary of the plot can’t do this wonderful film justice. Clive Candy is a gentleman of the old school, who prefer to fight fair and lose. Everyone tells him that he’s wrong, that this is a new kind of war, but he never wavers, he never changes, and in the end his side fights fair, and wins.

ADDED: It occurs to me that I think of this film in the same way as Goodbye, Mr. Chips, another film that follows a man through his entire adult life, and I think part of the appeal of these movies to me is that we all want our lives to add up to something. When we’re old and know that there are few days ahead, we’d all like to look back and say, “Yes, I did some good. I changed the world, if only a bit.” I know that sort of thing certainly plays to my own romantic nature.

But he Heat didn’t go away. Instead they ripped off a 14-0 run to retake the lead. From there it was back and forth for the rest of the first half. Dallas was ahead by two at the break, despite Dirk Nowitzky’s struggles. Miami managed the retake the lead in the opening – but just 16 seconds later the Mavs pulled ahead, and never trailed again.

A lot of people have suggested this is because some failing on the Heat’s part. I don’t buy it. Yeah, LeBron James tended to disappear in the fourth quarter, but this is a guy who once scored his team’s last 25 points to win a playoff game. He’s a good player and I think he’ll win a championship one day. He also seems to be a good person, which is just as important to me.

It did rub me the wrong way when he, along with Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh, celebrated before the season had even begun. It was arrogant and added a lot of pressure to win. In the end they played well, especially Wade, but got beat by a slightly better team.

The thing that most surprised me about this Mavs team was the way they covered up their definiciencies. Many of the their best offensive players, such as Jason Terry and J.J. Barea, are limited when playing defense, but they worked their butts off and Miami was rarely able to exploit them.

So all credit to Dallas, to owner Mark Cuban, coach Rick Carlisle (who did a great job), and especially to the players, who stuck together, played (superbly) the roles they were assigned, and knocked off a more talented team.

I’d like to say the reason the Mavs won is their guts, but all that really means is that their shots went in and Miami’s didn’t. I do think that it’s beyond argument that Dallas has been more aggressive when it matters the most. The Miami players, with the exception of Dwayne Wade, have elected to run the clock down and take contested three-pointers.

Mavericks coach Rick Carlisle has turned out the be a lot better than I thought he was. I knew he was good in his previous stop, but he has found a way to get his players good shots and deny them to the opposition throughout the playoffs. In particular his decision to start Barea, where he gets to play against Mike Bibby, has worked perfectly.

Dallas now has two chances to win the championship on the road. I expect that the Heat will be pretty fired up on Sunday, but the Mavericks don’t seem inclined to give in. I expect a tough game and hope the Mavs can pull off the upset.