Alan's Balls to the Wall

Alan's latest effort, Balls to the Wall, is a bold, frenetic mess of a book, almost as if Alan had adopted the title of the book as his personal credo while writing it.  The book follows Francis Vorlauf, a "speculative etymologist," as he basks in newfound superstardom.  Vorlauf, having discovered several instances of "Stonewall" being used in an arguably pro-LBGT context prior to the famous Stonewall Riots, has published a groundbreaking paper arguing that "Stonewall" (as used by the gay rights movement) actually stems not from the Stonewall Inn, but from General Thomas Jonathan "Stonewall" Jackson, a Confederate general who stood "like a stone wall" for LBGT rights.  (Coincidentally, he also stood "like a stone wall" for the Confederate army at the First Battle of Bull Run, and it is the unlikelihood of this coincidence that has made Vorlauf's theory such a controversial and gripping one.)

But being an academic celebrity has its downsides as well.  Al Peretti, a government etymologist working for Cook County, Illinois, is trying to get the feds to help him debunk some of Vorlauf's earlier work.  In particular, Peretti believes that Vorlauf greatly exaggerated the strength of his evidence that "bailout," meaning the government rescue of banks during the financial crisis, refers to bailing someone out of jail, rather than bailing water out of a boat.  But Peretti is getting no traction, and his stodgy attire and abrupt, nerdy way of speaking are no match for Vorlauf's smooth, polished style.  In a confrontation on Charlie Rose's show, Peretti is easily outclassed, even when the evidence is on his side.

Meanwhile Vorlauf is struggling to find new topics to write about—he is caught on something of a treadmill, since each paper needs to dial up the controversy and sexiness of his ideas, or he will fade from public attention.  He toys with the possibility that the "card" in "discard" might refer to the human heart, an idea that would bring a little romance into his work.  He can't find much evidence for this proposition, which ordinarily wouldn't slow him down much, but with Peretti nipping at his heels he has to think twice.

What neither Vorlauf nor Peretti knows is that the federal etymologists are not indifferent to Peretti's claims—they are taking them very seriously indeed.  But so far their investigation is stymied by bureaucratic infighting, as Treasury tries to shut down the investigation, forcing the investigators to come up with a "smoking gun" or give up their case.  Meanwhile they are forced to withhold public comment, giving the impression of inaction.  In a violation of protocol, they decide to contact Peretti, and they find him at a Las Vegas conference arguing about whether "a storm is brewing" relates to brewing tea (the sky darkening like the water in a teapot) or brewing beer (the atmosphere churning as if roiled by fermentation).  (Peretti's responsible, measured answer—that it could be either, and likely doesn't relate to either in particular—neatly illustrates why he will always be a public sector etymologist.)  The agents pull him aside to pool their information, leading to a shocking discovery.

I'll leave the rest of the plot to the reader to discover, for at the end of the day, Balls is a book that you read for the thrill of discovery.  Not just learning what happens next, but that sudden feeling of gratification when you realize that "sidetracked" is about railroads or that "calibrate" comes from the caliber of a gun.

As for the book's messiness and its many loose threads left hanging:  I actually found that the shagginess of the story matched the fuzziness and loopiness of its main character and his ideas.  Where others see a book that badly needs an editor, I see a book that deserves to be appreciated in its raw form, a testament to the giddy full-steam-ahead, damn-the-torpedoes style that Alan practices so well.