Book Review: Lawrence Block, A Diet of Treacle (1961)

This is the fourth Lawrence Block novel that Hard Case Crime has rescued from oblivion, and the second that they have pulled from the morass of sleaze paperback publisher Beacon Books. The first three titles, Grifter's Game (1961; originally Mona), The Girl with the Long Green Heart (1965), and Lucky at Cards (1964; originally The Sex Shuffle) were well worth saving. Unforunately, A Diet of Treacle (1961; originally Pads Are for Passion) is a much inferior work. The early stages of the novel, which deal largely with beat ennui, are predictably tedious; the character arc of good girl Anita Carbone is not particularly believable; and the book's quick ending all but screams, "Hey, I've almost made my word count! Time to wrap this one up!" Memo to Hard Case Crime: This well appears to have run dry. Is it too late for you to un-publish Killing Castro and give some other writer a chance? Grade: D

Pulp Poem of the Week

The Good Humor man passed,

his wagon full of ice cream.

Maybe an ice cream

would taste good,

Joe mused.

Then again

maybe it wouldn't.

Go to hell,

Good Humor Man.

Lawrence Block

Pads Are for Passion

1961

Pulp Poem of the Week

She went along the sidewalk in the sun

looking like something the censors

had cut out of a sailor's dream.

Charles Williams

A Touch of Death

1954

Book Review: John D. MacDonald, Soft Touch (1958)

When you read piles of noir PBOs (or piles of any fictional genre), many of them do, of course, start to seem the same, but this only heightens your appreciation of the ones that are really good. When the formula has worked its way into your DNA, you can see which writers are innovating and pushing boundaries and which ones are just going through the motions. In the early chapters of any genre novel, it is generally difficult to tell which kind of book you are reading. Is it one whose every move you will be able to predict, or is it one that will surprise you? Suffice it to say, this one surprised me. Grade: A

Pulp Poem of the Week

A one-dollar bill has

a humble and homely look.

A five-dollar bill has

a few meek pretensions.

A ten is vigorous and

forthright and honest,

like a scout leader.

A twenty, held to the ear

like a seashell

emits the far-off sound

of nightclub music.

A fifty wears the faint sneer

of the race track.

It has a portly look

needs a shave,

wears a yellow diamond

on the little finger.

And a hundred is

very haughty indeed.

John D. MacDonald

Soft Touch

1958

Book Review: Max Allan Collins, Deadly Beloved (2007)

I could write at great length about the ham-handedness of Max Allan Collins' Deadly Beloved, but instead I choose to look at the bright side: I'm betting that MAC's next contribution to Hard Case Crime, The First Quarry, is going to seem pretty damn great by comparison. Grade: F

Book Review: Akimitsu Takagi, The Tattoo Murder Case (1948)

Dark, enjoyable Japanese whodunnit. The characters are somewhat bland in their polite Japanese way, and the solution to the murder mystery is interesting in the same way that the solution to a crossword puzzle is interesting. Strengths of the narrative are its evocation of post-war Japan and its portrayal of the Japanese art tattoo subculture. On the whole, worth your time if you are interested in things Japanese. Grade: B

Pulp Poem of the Week

Let's all

go kill

the scared

old man.

Will Cook

"Let's All Go Kill the Scared Old Man"

1959

Book Review: Cornell Woolrich, Six Times Death [a.k.a. After-Dinner Story] (1944)

Collects six stories: "After-Dinner Story" (1938); "The Night Reveals" (1936); "An Apple a Day" (1944); "Marihuana" (1941); "Rear Window" [original title: "It Had to Be Murder"] (1942); and "Murder-Story" (1937).


This collection ultimately becomes a kind of noir comique. The stories are dark enough, but their premises are so silly that the narratives become as amusing as they are bleak: an eleavator crashes to the basement of an office building, and while its occupants await rescue from the dark, one of them commits murder; an arson investigator for an insurance company discovers that his wife is a pyromaniac; a diamond, stolen and hidden in an apple, is accidentally dropped into a baby carriage that contains four more apples; smoking pot triggers a murder spree; an insomniac, invalid Peeping Tom convinces himself that one of his neighbors is a murderer; a pulp writer somehow manages to describe an actual murder, down to the smallest detail. All of this is fun to read, but it lacks the emotional charge that Woolrich achieves in his better novels. Grade: B-

Pulp Poem of the Week

The Lieutenant flipped a lever
on a desk transmitter.
"Send Spillane in here."

Cornell Woolrich
"Marihuana"
1941

Pulp Poem of the Week

He had greased black hair

parted in the middle

and a wax mustache;

wasn't tall and wasn't short;

and looked more like

his mother's side of the family,

but he didn't want anyone

to forget his father.

I made a bet with myself that

his parents never made it legal.

Earl Norman

Kill Me in Tokyo

1958

Book Review: Bill S. Ballinger, Portrait in Smoke (1950)

Cleverly and effectively constructed noir. Bill S. Ballinger's method is to juxtapose two narratives, one in first person and one in third, that come together at novel's end. In Portrait in Smoke, Danny April, a small-time bill collector, tells the story of how he becomes obsessed with a young woman named Krassy Almauniski and how he dedicates his life to finding her. His narrative (first person) alternates with Krassy's life story (third person), allowing Ballinger to dramatically contrast Danny's discoveries and theories and fantasies about Krassy with the truth about her life. A memorable read. Grade: A

Pulp Poem of the Week

"I am sorry for all men," she said.

"But the others I am sorry for and send away.

You I am sorry for and I let you come.

That's how I know I love you."

Eric Knight

You Play the Black and the Red Comes Up

1938

Book Review: Earl Norman, Kill Me in Tokyo (1958)

Avoid Earl Norman's Kill Me in Tokyo unless, for some strange reason, you absolutely must learn about the origins of the first hard-boiled detective whose weapon of choice is karate. The detective in question, ex-GI Burns Bannion, comes to his profession by chance. He is drinking in a club one night when a drunk American businessman decides that he looks like a private detective and thrusts ¥100,000 upon him with instructions to find a woman named Mitsuko. Apparently having nothing better to do, Bannion takes the job, which he continues to pursue ineptly for no discernable reason even after his client turns up dead. Though this novel is without charm, wit, or intelligence, it does have the distinction of being the first place that I have seen the word "herm" (short for "hermaphrodite") used as a verb. Grade: F

Pulp Poem of the Week

He told about all the women

what he had knowed,

and all the saloons he'd been in,

and some of it was a lie,

'cause if all those saloons

was as swell as he said they was

they'd of throwed him out.

James M. Cain

"Pastorale"

1928

Book Review: Mickey Spillane, Dead Street (2007)

There are so many false notes in Dead Street that an explication of them all would be longer than the novel itself. Here is one of my favorites from early on: Our hero, ex-cop Jack Stang, has discovered that his fiancée, who supposedly died twenty years ago in an accident after being kidnapped by the mob, is actually alive. When Stang, a.k.a. "The Shooter," learns this remarkable news, he proclaims, "Somebody has got to pay for twenty lost years." Somebody has got to pay for all that lost time, Captain Stang? That's strange. Why didn't they have to pay back when you thought that all they had done was kill your fiancée? Grade: D-

Pulp Poem of the Week

She may

be a

feminist,

my boy,

but she has

startling

lapses.

John Dickson Carr

The Three Coffins

1935

Book Review: Eric Knight, You Play the Black and the Red Comes Up (1938)

Oddly episodic crime novel about a man who hops a freight train to California, chasing after the wife and son who have fled him. We meet numerous flakes in California, including a pair of women who somehow manage to turn a ridiculous Ponzi scheme (Ecanaanomics!) into a successful cross between a religious cult and a political movement. Part social satire, part noir, all from the writer who would later create Lassie. Grade: C+

Pulp Poem of the Week

The night was like purple ink.

And it was as though the bottle

that held the ink

had been smashed against the sky

by some insurgent celestial accountant.

For heaven was pitted with its tiny,

twinkling particles of broken glass.

And there seemed to be no one

there to sweep them up.

God's office was closed for the night.

Cornell Woolrich

Fright

1950

Book Review: John Dickson Carr, The Three Coffins [a.k.a. The Hollow Man] (1935)

If you like traditional whodunits, you may well love this book. In my case, The Three Coffins served to remind me why I quit reading traditional whodunits.

The best part of the book is its famous twenty-seventh chapter, "The Locked-Room Lecture." This disquisition could be read with enjoyment apart from the rest of the novel. (Indeed, this is what I wish I had done myself.) Here, John Dickson Carr's detective-hero, Dr. Gideon Fell, gives an entertaining history and theory of locked-room mysteries. Dr. Fell, aware that he is participating in one of the more ridiculous examples in the history of an often ridiculous genre, argues, "A great part of our liking for detective fiction," he says, "is based on a liking for improbablity." But Dr. Fell speaks only for fans of certain types of mysteries (not including, obviously, me). In some cases, I do not mind improbable plots, but these stories must compensate with memorable characters. (See, for example, Sherlock Holmes.) In The Three Coffins, however, the characters are thin, and all they ever do is talk, trading their tedious theories back and forth. After the first chapter, all the action takes place off stage, and we are treated to page after page after page of talk, talk, talk. Who cares? Not me. Grade: D+

Top Ten Novels Reviewed in 2008

1. Gil Brewer, A Killer Is Loose (1954)
2. Charles Williams, Hell Hath No Fury [a.k.a. The Hot Spot] (1953)
3. Martin M. Goldsmith, Detour (1939)
4. Jason Starr, Tough Luck (2003)
5. Patricia Highsmith, Strangers on a Train (1950)
6. Raymond Chandler, The High Window (1941)
7. P. J. Wolfson, Bodies Are Dust (1931)
8. Ken Bruen and Jason Starr, Bust (2006)
9. Charles Williams, Big City Girl (1951)
10. Gil Brewer, Hell’s Our Destination (1953)

Pulp Poem of the Week

He was disturbed,

still trembling, still vibrating

with the throes of the crisis,

but he was the master;

the animal was downed,

was cowed for this time,

at least.

But for all that, the brute

was there. Long dormant,

it was now at last alive,

awake. From now on he

would feel its presence continually;

would feel it tugging at its chain,

watching its opportunity.

Frank Norris
McTeague
1899

Pulp Poem of the Week

It would be fun
to cut Katsu,
to see what it felt like
to kill with a knife.
He'd already shot
somebody today;
if he strangled Kyle afterward
it would be like hitting
the murder trifecta.

Ken Bruen & Jason Starr
Slide
2007

Book Review: Cornell Woolrich, Fright (1950)

Cornell Woolrich fans (myself included) are highly skilled at praising his strengths while discounting his weaknesses. Usually, this means reveling in the momentum of his plots while overlooking their inherent absurdities. Though I give Fright passing marks on the whole, its weaknesses are too great to ignore. Yes, the prose is overwrought, but the greater problem is that the book's protagonist, Prescott Marshall, is not a sympathetic character. I found him self-absorbed an unlikeable from the start, and his problems are problems of his own creation. He is not an innocent victim of the fates, as are many Woolrich heroes, and an unsympathetic Woolrich protagonist can make for tough reading. Grade: C+

Footnote: Fright makes an interesting pair with Seymour Shubin's Witness to Myself (Hard Case Crime, 2006), which covers a similar (but different!) noir landscape.

Pulp Poem of the Week

She spoke broken, halting English,
but since I spoke Thai better
than she spoke my native tongue
we conversed in her language.
Though for the most part
we'd used body Thai,
which is something like body English
but more passionate.

William Knoles
Jade Brothel
1961

Book Review: William Knoles, Jade Brothel (1961)

Background: I became interested in William Knoles (a.k.a. Clyde Allison) as a result of reading Feral House's Sin-a-Rama: Sleaze Sex Paperbacks of the Sixties. Earl Kemp, famed editor of sex paperbacks, claims that Knoles "was the best writer I ever worked with" (putting him above Donald E. Westlake and Lawrence Block) and that Greenleaf house editors took turns with him because "everyone wanted to be Clyde Allison's editor." But total trash is total trash, right? We'll see. I bought a random Clyde Allison novel for a song on eBay to see what it is like.

Review: Jade Brothel is the story of Dave Owens, a thoroughly loathesome American living in Thailand. Owens will do anything, legal or not, to earn a buck, and in his spare time, if he is otherwise unable to find a sex partner, his visits the brothel that he owns. But this book is not about the brothel, its title be damned. Rather, the main plot centers around Owens getting into the movie business with a Hollywood refugee named Jaybee, whom Owens plans eventually to kill in the name of more money. If Knoles had written this novel for Gold Medal, it might have been pretty good, but the requirements of the sleaze paperback formula make that almost impossible. And it's not just that the sex scenes are too many or too long or too forumulaic--it's also the repulsive pride that Dave Owens takes in narrating his conquests, which makes the sex scenes repulsive, too. But at least ***SPOILER ALERT*** it was nice at the end of the book when he got chewed up by crocodiles. Grade: D

Pulp Poem of the Week

I'm not hard to hire.

All you have to do is

offer me money.

Robert Terrall

Kill Now, Pay Later

1960

Book Review: Ken Bruen and Jason Starr, Slide (2007)

Even moreso than its predecessor, Bust, Slide succeeds or fails (depending on your point of view) as noir comedy. The novel's third-person narrative is filtered through the minds of half a dozen characters, all of whom are caricatures and only one of whom (police detective Joe Miscali) is not a blathering moron. The idiocy and the jokes (which are often one and the same) come in an unrelenting stream. Though I found Bust a more satisfying novel, especially in its plotting, I cannot deny that Slide was entertaining. Grade: C+

Pulp Poem of the Week

I found it amazing

how many men,

when asked to supply

a photo of themselves

by a young woman

over the Internet,

responded by sending

a digital snapshot

of their penis.

Charles Ardai

Songs of Innocence

2007

Book Review: Jason Starr, Tough Luck (2003)

Mickey Prada is a throwback to the noir anti-heroes of old, a Seemingly Good Guy who gets in deeper and deeper after he makes one unfortunate decision, agreeing to place a bet with his bookie for a man who claims to be a member of the mob. As Mickey's life unravels, he makes more bad (and sometimes criminal) decisions, but he keeps reader sympathy because he is, after all, a Seemingly Good Guy. Jason Starr manages the affair with great skill and finishes with a closing line that is almost perfect. Grade: A-

Book Review: Robert Terrall, Kill Now, Pay Later (1960)

Private eye Ben Gates must restore his good name after he botches the simple job of guarding gifts at a wedding. As pleasant and lightweight as a tale of murder and blackmail can be. If you like your crime dark, skip it. Grade: C

Footnote: I must gripe about this hideous cover. Robert McGinnis did the painting for the original 1960 paperback, featuring a deformed blonde who looked to be about nine feet tall with six feet of legs. For this reprint, Robert McGinnis was again hired for the job, and this time he painted a redhead who looks even more deformed than the original blonde. If ever a man thumbed his nose at a second chance, this is it!

Pulp Poem of the Week

Roger knew well enough

what he wanted to do,

but he wasn't certain if

he would know just how

to go about it.

In the end

that didn't matter,

however,

because Grace did.

James McKimmey

The Perfect Victim

1958