Review of Of All The Bloody Cheek

Killing people is a grim business. This is why, in fiction, hitmen are either tormented, existential figures or your garden variety psychopaths. It is rare to find a fictional contact killer who approaches his work with aplomb and joy de vivre. Augustus Mandrell is such a killer. The invention of Englishman Frank McAuliffe and the hero of three published books (and a rumored unpublished fourth one), Mandrell is the world's greatest hitman, and he's going to make sure you know it.



Starting with Of All The Bloody Cheek (Point Blank, 2005), which was first published in 1965, Mandrell narrates his adventures with relish. Cheek is more of a collection of four connected novellas, than a proper novel. The stories take place in the late 30's and early 40's. In each section, Mandrell relates the story of one of his "commissions," with each one being more elaborate than the next. Mandrell even has a nemisis in the form of an American Army Lieutenant (later a major) named Proferra, whose encounters with Mandrell leave him increasingly mutilated and unhinged.



The events may be historical, but McCauliffe gives Mandrell an urbane, witty, voice that is still engaging over 40 years after it initally appeared. McCauliffe has succeeded in creating a unique hitman who provides a wonderful counterpoint to his more serious counterparts. Unfortunately, Cheek is the only book in the series in print. Point Blank had, at one point, intended to reprint them all, but that plan seems to have fallen by the wayside. Pick this one up while you can still find it.

Review of An Ice Cold Paradise

Veteran?

Check.

Lives in a tropical climate?

Check.

Lucky at gambling?

Check.

Unorthodox living arrangement?

Check.

Makes a living helping others, but isn't really a private detective?

Check.

Travis McGee, right?

No?

Debut author Terry Holland is obviously quite familiar with the work of John D. MacDonald. There are worse influences to have as an author. But the main weakness of his debut, An Ice Cold Paradise (Point Blank, 2008), is that he's a little too familiar with MacDonald, and he might have cribbed a little too much. Holland's hero, Terry Pines, is an ex-con, and ex Army Ranger who lives in Honolulu where he owns an apartment building which he bought with proceeds he won playing the ponies. He rents the apartments to an eclectic cast of characters and runs a sideline where he specializes in being a badass for hire.

An Ice Cold Paradise finds Pines searching for his ex-cellmate's missing son, a G.I. stationed in Hawaii. Pines takes the case from the missing man's beautiful aunt, and the two of them are soon up to their necks in murder, gambling, arms running stolen jewels and Mormon fundamentalism. It's a lot, maybe a little too much, but Holland manages to fit it all together, even if he does also borrow MacDonald's tendency to indulge in dialogue and philosophy, which slows the story down in spots. Still, it never stalls out completely, and the action picks up in the final act, when it counts the most.


Holland's debut is, for all its faults, still solid. He's got something here. The reason why MacDonald wrote so many Travis McGee novels is because they appealed to readers. Here's hoping he can bring Pines out from under the shadow of his influences and find a way to make him his own man.

Download An Ice Cold Paradise

Debut author Terry Holland's book An Ice Cold Paradise is out in print from Point Blank Press this month. It's also available as a free PDF on the author's Web site. It's the first of a planned series, in the Travis McGee mold, featuring veteran and ex-con Harry Pines. I'm reading it now, and a review should be forthcoming, but you can check it out for yourself. There's also an excerpt from the as-yet unpublished second novel in the series.

Review of Made in Miami

Made in Miami by Charles Willeford (Point Blank, 2008) is not a lost masterpiece on the order of The Black Mass of Brother Springer or Cockfighter. It is, however, a valuable contribution to the body of Willeford’s in-print work and shows that even when Willeford was not mining his signature themes of obsession and maintaining artistic integrity in the face of an indifferent world as deeply as he could, he still managed to keep them in mind and in print.

In an article that first appeared in First, the Book Collector’s Magazine, and is currently reprinted on his Web site, Don Herron writes that someone at Beacon, Willeford’s publisher at the time, suggested he imitate prolific author Orrie Hitt. Hitt wrote hundreds of novels and exactly none of them are in print today. The man doesn’t even rate a Wikipedia entry, which is a sure sign of being completely forgotten.

Hitt's influence is present in this novel, though, which is unfortunate. Originally published under the title, Lust is a Woman, Made in Miami, is probably as close to an actual sleaze novel as anything Willeford ever published. Willeford spent his early career writing for publishers who catered to men’s prurient interests, but his books were never about sex. He managed to put into print books that were more likely to get blood flowing to the brain than they were to points south.

Made is largely about sex, though. It’s a simple boy meets girl, boy loses girl to pimp, boy loses it when girl starts turning tricks story, but even when Willeford is off, he’s on. While the book does not mine any of Willeford’s signature themes very deeply, Willeford was also unable to suppress his literary instincts entirely and there are still flashes of brilliance, as when Ralph Tone, the protagonist, an art student and hotel elevator operator, laments that he will “never be the artist [he] wanted to be, following [his] own ideas, wrong or right.” At that point it’s almost as if the author is talking to himself, wondering what he’s doing trying to write like Hitt. It is fortunate that Willeford did not that suggestion too much to heart.

Review of Texas Wind

Texas Wind (Point Blank, 2004) by James Reasoner is a book that enjoyed cult status over the years and, in light of the author’s recent reemergence on the crime fiction scene with Dust Devils, it bears a second look.

The setup is simple. Cody, a private detective, is hired by the stepmother of a missing college student to find her. It seems like an open and shut case of elopement, until the girl’s finger shows up, along with a demand for ransom. Has she really been kidnapped? Are she and her boyfriend trying to get some money from her family? Or, is she dead? Finding the answer will bring Cody face to face with the mob, and the consequences of young love gone wrong.

Texas Wind is not as polished and perfect as Dust Devils, but that is understandable, considering Reasoner had 27 years between books to hone his skills. Still, Wind is well crafted, and there is no waste. In fact, the book is so economical that a subplot involving Cody and his admirer Janice seems squeezed in. The couple goes from first date to professions of love in no time flat. It’s a minor complaint. A fast moving, focused story is better than a bloated, turgid one any day. In writing, knowing what to leave out is just as important as knowing what to leave, and Reasoner knows.

Texas Wind is not as engaging as Dust Devils, but that does not really matter, since very few hardboiled crime tales can rise to the level of Reasoner's most recent effort. Texas Wind is still well worth reading.

Point Blank Gets Profiled

The Louisville Courier-Journal has an article on Point Blank Press, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite publishers. I had never heard of them until I was lucky enough to run across a copy of Two Way Split on a library shelf a few years ago. They've got some great titles, including Cocaine and Blue Eyes and James Reasoner's brand new Dust Devils (which is incorrectly referred to as "Dust" in the article.) Dust Devils, as far as I'm concerned, is the best book of the year so far, and if you don't read it you're just cheating yourself.

Review of Payback

Payback by Russell James (Point Blank, 2007) is a novel that, on the surface, shares a lot of similarities with Get Carter (a.k.a. Jack’s Return Home). You can start with the premise: A man with a checkered past returns home to investigate the death of his estranged brother. Both stories are set among the English working class. The main characters of both books share a surname. Both men commit acts of violence in their quest to uncover the truth. But Floyd Carter, the protagonist of Payback, is no Jack Carter. Jack is a hard man; a cold blooded killer, and Floyd, while he’s no angel, is not a Jack. He is an altogether more humane figure.

Despite their superficial similarities, Payback and Get Carter are very different stories. While the latter is a straightforward revenge tale, with bad people doing bad things to each other, the former is a story about the nature of family and friendship with a revenge element.

Floyd Carter returns from Germany to London to bury his brother Albie, a local drug dealer, who was killed in a hit and run. The police are the only ones who think Albie’s death was an accident, so when Floyd returns, all eyes are on him. He has a reputation, after all. Soon, Floyd finds himself embroiled in a war between two rival drug gangs competing for territory. Floyd has other concerns, however. His best friend has turned into a junkie. The woman he cares for has a teenage daughter headed for trouble, and his brother’s death has left him responsible for his retarded brother, Ludo.

Floyd feels compelled to find out who killed his brother, even though they had not spoken in years, and even though he worries about how his actions will affect his loved ones. It is this additional element that keeps Payback from being your run-of-the-mill revenge story. He’s not a single minded killer like Jack Carter or Donald Westlake’s Parker. He’s a man who wonders if his desire for revenge might end up hurting the ones he loves. The conflict gives the story depth it needs to stand out.

The heroin-addicted friend subplot doesn’t really go anywhere, but it does give James a chance to riff on the drug trade, which he writes about well, pointing out the absurdity of both the user’s attitude and the way the authorities combat drugs. His point is well taken, but it’s too bad the subplot feels tacked on.

Allan Guthrie Wins

Allan Guthrie's first novel, Two-Way Split, originially published by Point Blank Press, (which has a new Web site) has been awarded the Theakston's Old Peculiar Crime Novel of the Year Award. I think this means a bunch of people voted for his book via the Internet. It's my favorite novel of Guthrie's and I heartily congratulate him on his win.

Review of Dust Devils

James Reasoner’s Dust Devils (Pointblank, 2007) is a hardboiled gem. A Texas set tale of a heist gone wrong, this short novel is the equal of anything written by masters like Westlake and Leonard.
Reasoner, who has devoted much of his time to historical fiction in recent years, shows he has not lost his touch with crime stories. His prose is stripped to the bone, but still evocative. His dialogue is entirely believable. The plot moves at a breakneck pace, and Reasoner follows Chandler’s advice: Every time it seems like the story might drag, a man with a gun walks into the room. There are also some twists that will send readers reeling. To say anything else would spoil the fun.

Dust Devils is one of the best novels of the year.

Where to get info about new books from Point Blank Press

Point Blank Press hasn't updated their Web site in a while, so I was pleasantly surprised to stumble across this page, which has been updated and has info about Point Blank's forthcoming titles.

Three Brief Reviews

BLACKMAILER

Blackmailer (Hard Case Crime, 2007), is a breezy mystery by George Axelrod, the screenwriter for Breakfast at Tiffany’s and The Seven Year Itch. It focuses on hapless book publisher Richard Sherman as he searches for the final manuscript of famous writer and Hemingway stand in Charles Anstruther. After being offered the manuscript by the titular blackmailer, a young call girl, Sherman finds himself being harassed by gangsters and invited to a party by Truman Capote doppelganger Walter Heinemann. To compound problems Walter’s old flame Janis Whitney, now a movie star, is also mixed up in the missing manuscript mess.

Blackmailer is fun, but not an essential entry in Hard Case’s collection. The story moves at a brisk pace, but there’s not much there, and when it really counts the novel goes into explanation mode, using huge chunks of dialogue to clear up plot points. The last twenty pages of a novel should be filled with action, not explanation.

SHADOW OF THE SERPENT

Shadow of the Serpent (Polygon, 2006) is the first novel in an ongoing series featuring real life Edinburgh police inspector James McLevy. McLevy, a Victorian Era detective, was a crime fiction author and is considered a likely influence on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Author David Ashton originally brought the fictionalized McLevy to life for a radio series on BBC4.

Shadow of the Serpent’s storyline is nothing special. After a prostitute is cut down with an axe on the streets of Edinburgh, McLevy follows the clues, which happen to point toward William Gladstone, who is in the midst of running for prime minister against Benjamin Disraeli. When McLevy gets too close to power he is removed from the case, but still manages to save the day.

The characters and setting are what brings the book to life. McLevy is a brooding introvert whose lack of concern for convention and social standing cause more than a little concern for his superior Lieutenant Roach as well as his sidekick Constable Mulholland, who has bourgeois aspirations. Indeed, the interplay between McLevy and Mulholland is one of the highlights of the book. The same can be said for the relationship between McLevy and brothel keeper Jean Brash, who maintain a wary friendship despite their irreconcilable differences. Ashton’s Edinburgh is finely rendered and the cobblestones and gaslight atmosphere adds to the book’s menace.

Inspector McLevy hasn’t made it across the Atlantic yet, so anyone who wants it stateside will have to order it from the UK, or wait until it gets adapted and ends up on Mystery on PBS, which it will.

COCAINE AND BLUE EYES

Fred Zackel’s Cocaine and Blue Eyes (Pointblank, 2006) is a classic of 70’s detective novels, right up there with James Crumley’s Last Good Kiss. How it ever went out of print is a bit of a mystery itself, but the good people at Pointblank had the sense to bring it back.

It should be stated up front that the book bears no resemblance to the OJ Simpson made-for-television movie bearing the same name, and that, if you have been unfortunate enough to see it, you should forget about it right now.

Unemployed PI Michael Brennan gives a guy with a broken down van a ride on Christmas Day. The guy finds one of Brennan’s old business cards and asks him to track down his live-in lover, who ran out on him. Brennan refuses and, a few days later, the man dies in a car wreck. Before he died however, he sent Brennan a thousand-dollar-bill and a picture of Dani Anatole, the girl he wanted found. With nothing else to do, Brennan sets out to find Dani, and soon finds himself neck deep in the sordid affairs of the wealthy Anatole family.

Zackel’s novel is a perfect period piece, capturing the aimlessness and permissiveness of the 70’s, not to mention the sideburns and mustaches. The rainy, empty streets of San Francisco at New Year serve as a perfect setting for a story of ruined dreams and doomed love.

Review of The Blue Cheer

Cities, in the popular imagination, are sinister places, where innocents are corrupted, everything has a price and vice rules the day. The city stands in stark contrast to rural America, where people go to church, say "please and thank you," and love their spouse and only their spouse.The association of the city with vice and the country with virtue is alive and well today even though more Americans now live in cities than in rural areas. One does not have to look far in the news to see some talking head blathering on about how Blue State Liberals are a grave threat to Red State Dwelling Salt of the Earth.
This false dichotomy has done more than give vapid suits something insubstantial to talk about on 24 hour news channels. It has limited the setting of detective novels. The detective novel is an urban phenomenon. Be it Sam Spade in San Francisco, Lew Archer in Los Angeles, or Matt Scudder in Manhattan, the fictional PI is a character at home surrounded by concrete and steel.It is true, cities do make a menacing, suitably indifferent backdrop to most detective novels, but anyone who thinks the same kind of menace cannot be found in a small town or down some sparsely populated mountain hollow has never spent a significant amount of time in either of those places.
Frank Lynskey's novel The Blue Cheer (PointBlank, 2007) is a pleasure largely because it takes the private investigator genre and sets it in the middle of nowhere. Private Investigator Frank Johnson can't catch a break. Having moved to the (fictional) town of Scarab, West Virginia for some clean mountain living, he walks out of his cabin one evening in time to see a stinger missile blast a drone out of the sky. He goes to the crash scene and finds evidence of the stinger's firing, only to be hit over the head and knocked unconscious. From there, Frank and his neighbor, Old Man Johnson, and ex-CIA agent, are off in search of the source of the missile, which they soon learn is a shadowy organization known as The Blue Cheer.
Lynskey is not new to crime fiction. He has published a slew of Frank Johnson short stories and one other novel, The Dirt Brown Derby, but this novel should raise his profile and get him some much deserved attention. He is a good writer who can nail a character or a setting with simple, well-placed details. He nails small-town Appalachia cold. One of the most enjoyable facets of the novel is the way Lynskey describes the mountains. Anyone who's spent any time there knows the details he throws in; deer munching crabapples, mushy persimmons hanging from tree branches, hawks sitting on power lines, water discolored by coal mining pollution. It all serves to firmly ground the novel.
Lynskey is no less astute with his characterization, and the people who populate Scarab are believable, and Johnson himself is a worthy protagonist. The shadowy organization at the center of the book is another story, however. While Lynskey does drop in a twist, making the Blue Cheer something other than what the reader may be expecting, their motives and plans are never fully explained. Indeed, the reader never really learns the full scope of the organization at the center of the novel's plot. Are they a vast conspiracy, or a bunch of backwoods yahoos? Is the ambiguity intentional? It's difficult to tell, which is frustrating.
The plot also could have been more involved. From the opening it seems like Lynskey is going to have Johnson racing against the clock to foil a terrorist plot to use the missiles. This is not the case, however, and while The villains are truly vile, they never live up to their potential, and the climax is less complicated than it should be.
Despite its flaws, however, The Blue Cheer is a worthy effort. Lynskey has created a good character and taken the PI out of the city, proving that evil lurks in the hearts of men, no matter where they are.

The Lefty

Over at The Rap Sheet J. Kingston Pierce has reported that Go to Helena Handbasket by Donna Moore (PointBlank: 2006) has won the Lefty, which is given each year for best humorous crime novel.

Yet Another Forthcoming Title

Sarah Weinman over at Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind had this earlier this week, so you probably already know all about it, but Craig McDonald has a novel, Head Games, that will be published by Bleak House this year. He's also got a book of interviews available from PointBlank.
And, just to tie it in with the post below, here's a short story.