Wednesday Paperback Cover

First it was a private nurse, then a "very private" secretary. Now it's a chaueffer.

Breaking Bad

I lost the lion's share of Saturday to Breaking Bad. I'd been meaning to get around to watching it, but somehow I'd just never gotten around to it. Maybe the fact that the main character is played by Bryan Cranston, a guy I previously knew only as "The Dad from that Annyoing Show on Fox" plays the main character. Well, the show is better than it has any right to be. I went through the first season and part of the second yesterday while cleaning up and doing laundry. Of course, if I'd known it was going to rain today, I'd have spent more time outside yesterday when the sun was out, but I can't really say I regret parking myself in front of the TV. It's something I rarely do, and it's even more rare to feel like it was time well spent, but in this case, I have to say, the show delivered.

Breaking Bad swings wildly between being a hard boiled crime show and a family drama. Every time Walt goes out and gets involved in the drug business he has to take time out to deal with the consequences of his actions. His cancer serves as an effective metaphor for the way his destructive choices affect his family, as well as the nature of the business he's involved in. Cranston's performance as a desperate man looking at the end of his rope, and likely his life, is quite sympathetic. It's hard not to feel for a guy who draws up a pro and con list with "Judeo Christian principles" on one side and "He'll kill your entire family" on the other while contemplating whether or not kill a drug dealer. Even as Walter's decisions become more and more unjustifiable, and his actions start to threaten his family-the people he's ostensibly trying to help with his methamphetamine sideline-you still find yourself rooting for him. This show is way better than AMC's other original series, Mad Men. Why anyone gets all worked up over that one is beyond me. Of course, the fact that Breaking Bad is so good can only mean one thing: No one's watching it.

Wednesday Paperback Cover

It's that time of year.

Review of A Choice of Nightmares

Robert Staples is, to put it bluntly, shit out of luck. A washed up B-movie actor he has landed in the sun blasted landscape of South Florida, where he ekes out a living being a generic "celebrity." As Lynn Kostoff's A Choice of Nightmares (New Pulp Press, 2010), opens he has even put that tenuous living at risk by chucking a barking dog into an alligator pit during a mall opening. His agent gives him a chance to redeem himself through the simple task of delivering an envelope, but Staples screws that up, and quickly finds himself pulled into the world of cocaine smuggling, where he bumps up against decadent, dangerous, and depraved characters. And he finds himself loving it. For a man with few options and fading dreams, the world of cocaine and easy sex offers what he needs: Escape.

Escape, however, is something that's not easy to come by. It's easy to run, but no man can hide, and Staples is eventually forced to confront himself, decide who he is, and see if he can the ultimate luxury: a way out alive.

First published in 1991, A Choice of Nightmares, sank without making many ripples in the publishing pond. New Pulp Press has scooped the other reprint houses by scoring the rights to this one. Although Hard Case usually reprints old novels, Charles Ardai ought to be kicking himself for not putting his imprint on this novel. It's certainly more than good enough for that imprint. Kostoff's story takes off from the first line of the first chapter, and his characters are well drawn. His femme fatale, Denise and his psychotic hitman Barry from Palm Springs, who could easily have been cardboard cutouts, turn out to be unexpectedly deep and very disturbing. Denise, in particular, is an enigma that proves resistant to analysis. In the end, it's the ambiguity that Kostoff maintains throughout the story that makes it such a compelling read. He refuses to give in to the temptation to provide simple answers, making the story all that much more satisfying, at least for readers who eschews easy answers and pat endings.

Wednesday Paperback Cover

Christa Faust's Money Shot in Finnish. Stolen from Juri Nummelin.

Plots With Guns

It's about goddamn time for some good news around here, so here it is. I finally cracked Plots with Guns. It's up in the air in which issue the story will be published, but it's been accepted. I've been trying to get into PWG for a while now, so I'm pleased. It's a good story, and I may even have a better version ( Anticipating the usual PWG rejection, I went ahead and revised the story before hearing from A.N Smith.) They say write what you know. I wish I knew the things I know less well than I do.

Rumors of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

I'm back. The new laptop came, and it works like a charm. It is a sexy, sexy machine, and while I still need a router and whatnot for wireless access, I've got the basics taken care of right now. Watch this space for much more content soon. I've got three books that need reviewing, and paperback covers that need posting, and even some guest content coming up. Stay tuned,

The New Laptop

Should be here this week, so Independent Crime will be a going concern again in the not-too-distant future. All six of you who give a damn rejoice.

Review of The Deputy

With The Deputy (Tyrus Books, 2010), Victor Gischler, who has been experiencing a good deal of success by adding "Go-Go" to the titles of various books, returns to his roots. My best guess is that Gischler has been busy aiming for a screenwriting gig involving a gritty reboot of the Inspector Gadget franchise, but I could be wrong. It could be what sophisticated types call "branding."

Regardless, his "Go-Go" novels have been entertaining, but it’s good to see the man get back to basics with a straightforward crime novel. The Deputy is Gischler’s entry in the "corrupt town" subgenre of hardboiled fiction first pioneered by Hammett in Red Harvest, although Gischler’s novel makes a bit more sense than Harvest did plot wise, and his protagonist, part-time deputy Toby Sawyer, sure as hell isn’t the Continental Op. If he were, the book wouldn’t have gotten past the first chapter where Sawyer is called out late at night by the Sheriff of Coyote Crossing, Oklahoma and given the simple task of babysitting the corpse of a local bad boy who got himself murdered. Sawyer screws it up, turning his back and letting someone get away with the body. From there, it’s not long until Sawyer’s forced to go from hopeless screw up to axe wielding tough guy as he tries to survive the night and the desperate locals who are hell bent on keeping their secrets secret.

Gischler’s prose is deceptively simple. The book is short and to the point, and once it picks up momentum, it doesn’t slow down. Gischler’s been at this novel writing thing for a while now, and it shows. This outing is all muscle and no fat. It’s also a little more sober than Gischler’s earlier crime work. He made his bones with gonzo stories like Gun Monkeys and Pistol Poets. As such, it may disappoint fans who are expecting comedy. Sawyer’s life is pretty sad. He’s stuck in a shit town with no future, a loveless marriage, no hope, and a shitload of people who want his head on a stick. Sawyer’s got true grit, though, the one quality that will get a man through, and allow him to conquer a hostile environment and carve out a new life for himself.

A Brief Update

I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. The blog will be coming back. I've even got a review I've been meaning to post, but not having internet access at home (or a laptop, for that matter), is hampering my ability to update the blog. Add on top of that the fact that I have to spend an inordinate amount of time shopping for stuff I used to own, and that doesn't leave much free time where I have internet access. Hopefully, I will have a sweet new laptop soon, and things will get back to normal. Man, I'm looking forward to that.