Killer in Drag, by Ed Wood, Jr.

(pb; 1965: prequel to Death of a Transvestite)

From the back cover:

"Impeccably attired in either gender, assassin-for-hire Glenn becomes Glenda when it's time for the dirty work. But Glendea wants out of the murder racket. She hightails it with the cops and the mob on her trail.

"Donning dapper menswear or slipping into stilettos and angora sweaters, Glen/Glenda falls in with hopped-up carnies, slinky prostitutes, and local-yokel sheriffs. But little does Glenda known that a red-haired dressed-to-killer -- with lips and nails to match -- is tracking her. The mob figures it takes one to know one..."

Review:

Wood's tale about a cross-dressing hitman is sleazy and ultra-noiresque, his prose trenchant and tautly wrought (with Wood's trademark, occasional kitschy asides resinating the sordid mix). Anyone expecting the supposed awfulness of Wood's cinematic ouevre will probably be disappointed to discover that Wood was actually a good writer, when his imagination was not compromised by budgetary constraints.

This isn't the best noir novel I've read, but it's one of the kitschiest (in a good way), and its tough-as-a-PMSing-motorcycle-dyke prose rings true.

Great shadowy read, this, with a semi-cliffhanger finish that provides an explicit lead-in to its follow-up novel, Death of a Transvestite.

Reflections in a Golden Eye, by Carson McCullers

(hb; 1941)

From the inside flap:

"... the story advances through the tangle of the emotional life of a Southern army post. The characters are strong and varied. Each is met in a revelatory moment: a captain safe only in impersonality; his golden, cruel wife; and a private mutely in love with her, watching the moonlight on her face as she sleeps, unaware of his presence."

Review:

The plot: An army Captain (cuckolded kleptomaniac Weldon Penderton), his wife ("feeble-minded" sensual Lenora), and their neighbors (Major Morris Langdon, Lenora's lover, and his sickly wife, Alison) are living in the social fishbowl of a military outpost, when a possibly-psychotic intensely-Xian Private L.G. Williams begins to stalk Lenora. In doing so, he helps bring about events that will ultimately shatter the fragile social structure that defines and restricts them all.

Bizarre, compact study of perversity, pettiness and antiseptic-toned cruelty, this: this is one of the most unique novels I've ever read; stylistically, it's incredibly different than McCullers's earlier novel, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, which was a warm, rambly affair. It's difficult to believe that these tone- and theme-divergent novels sprang from the same mind.

This is also one of the most unsettling books I've read in a long while. Its brutality lies in taut-threatening-to-snap smiles, hissed comments and sudden, shocking acts of aggression.

The violent ending is flat and uninspired, after the creative displays of intimate cruelties that precede it. That said, Reflections in a Golden Eye a literary masterpiece, albeit a disturbing one.

Reflection in a Golden Eye, the film, was released stateside on October 13, 1967. Elizabeth Taylor played Lenora Penderton. Marlon Brando played Major Weldon Penderton. Brian Keith played Lt. Col. Morris Langdon. Julie Harris played Alison Langdon. Robert Forster played Pvt. L.G. Williams.

John Huston directed, from a script by Gladys Hill and Chapman Mortimer.

Offspring, by Jack Ketchum

(pb; 1991)

From the back cover:

"The local sheriff of Dead River, Maine, thought he'd killed the them off ten years ago -- a primitive, cave-dwelling tribe of predatory savages. But somehow, the clan survived. To breed. To hunt. To kill and eat. Now the peaceful residents, who came to Dead River to escape civilization, are fighting for their lives. And there's only one way to do it:

"Unleash the primal savagery lurking in their own hearts."

Review:

Warning: spoilers in this review.

Offspring is a well-written but unnecessary sequel to the memorably brutal Off Season.

Why is it unnecessary? For two reasons: at the end of Off Season, it was strongly implied that all the savages were fatally dispatched; secondly, while Ketchum has concocted a lean, believable and pulse-racing sequel with hiss-worthy villains (particularly Steven, a murdering sociopath), characters worth rooting for, and a few unforgettably terrifying scenes, the tone of Offspring feels lighter, like a PG-13-rated sequel to a grisly NC-17 horror flick.

The fact that Ketchum pulled a Hollyweird plot-cheat is a minor nit, though. Offspring is a good (not great) retread read, heads above many so-called "horror" novels.

Worth checking out, if you don't expect much.

The Blood of Flowers, by Anita Amirrezvani

(hb; 2007)

From the inside flap:

"In Persia, in the seventeenth century, a young woman is forced to leave behind the life she knows and move to a new city. Her father's unexpected death has upended everything -- her expectation of marriage, her plans for the future -- and cast her and her mother upon the mercy of relatives in the fabled city of Isfahan.

"Her uncle is a wealthy designer of carpets for the Shah's court, and the young woman is instantly drawn to his workshop. She takes in everything -- the dyes, the yarns, the meanings of the thousand ancient patterns -- and quickly begins designing carpets herself. This is men's work, but her uncle recognizes both her passion and her talent and allows her secretly to cross that line.

"But then a single disastrous, headstrong act threatens her very existence and casts her and her mother into an even more desperate situation. She is forced into an untenable form of marriage, a marriage contract renewable monthly, for a fee, to a wealthy businessman. Caught between forces she can barely comprehend, she knows only that she must act on her own, risking everything, or a face a life lived at the whim of others..."

Review:

Exotic, romantic and expeditiously written, there are few surprising twists, but Amirrezvani's assured narrative flow still bedazzles, like the colors and designs of the carpets that so enthrall her unnamed protagonist. It's a pleasure to watch her heroine mature into an artisan -- and a woman -- of the noblest sort: not only that, but The Blood of Flowers is an inspirational, fascinating glimpse into a different culture at what was a pivotal historical period for Iran (then called Persia).

Check it out.

2018 A.D., by Samuel J. Lundwall

(pb; 1975)

From the back cover:

"They needed the first girl born in the first minute of the first day of the first year of the Twenty-first Century. They needed her for an ad campaign that would put millions into the accounts of the giant conglomerate that owned it, and rom there into an unpublicized holding company that controlled that, and thence into the secret Swiss bank account that directed the holding company, and from there to the numbered box that ran the account, and from there to -- nobody knew, not even the Swiss bankers. But though the life of everyone in the world was supposed to be taped on computerized credit records down to the smallest detail, hers was not. They knew her name, and that was all.

"When this book was published in Sweden it became a controversial but immediate bestseller -- it was too uncomfortably prophetic to be just satirical science fiction. Its musical accompaniment, entitled King Kong Blues, became a top hit record -- a rock-beat for the next century. What Brave New World meant for the Thirties, what 1984 meant for the Forties, what A Clockwork Orange meant for the Sixties, 2018 A.D. means for the Seventies."

Review:

This chilling, hilarious and dystopian novel could almost be describing the world today. Public schools are "run by private companies working on 'performance contracts'." Cameras monitor citizens everywhere. Reality must-see snuff TV rules the dumbing-down boxes. Water, corporate-owned, is in man-made shortage. Pensioner "gangs" -- old men desperate for money to survive -- run amok in the streets, assaulting law-abiding citizens. The Mafia quietly runs a media-trumpeted "slum" (actually a den of vice) called Squatter City, where those desperate to escape detection and monitoring flee.

It's in this tableau that Erik Lenning, a married ad man who's secretly into BDSM, tracks down Anniki Norijn, a mysterious twenty-something actress and sometimes escort. Other characters, succinctly portrayed, populate Lundwall's vision as well: Leonard J. Kockenbergh Jr. (Lenning's boss); Tim Eulenspiegel (a City South slumlord who's also one of Anniki's tricks). And, more importantly, Sheik Yarasin ar-Rechehidd, a Saudi who's the "true [finanical and political] master of the world," and is making startling business decisions that just might bring everything down (e.g., moving the European and American auto industries into Siberia).

There are so many classic lines in this milestone novel that I don't even know where to begin (on that count). Simply put, this is heady stuff, well worth your time and money.

Lundwall includes a bibliography of then-current news articles that inspired 2018 A.D. (I love it when authors do that), that add to the eerie reality of the work.

The Year of Fog, by Michelle Richmond

(hb; 2007)


From the inside flap:

"Life changes in an instant. On a foggy beach. In the seconds when Abby Mason -- photographer, fiancee, soon-to-be-stepmother -- looks into her camera and commits her greatest error... here is the tale of a family torn apart, of the search for the truth behind a child's disappearance, and of one woman's unwavering faith in the redemptive power of love...

"Six-year old Emma vanished into the thick San Francisco fog. Or into the heaving Pacific. Or somewhere just beyond: to a parking lot, a stranger's van, or a road with traffic flashing by. Now, as the days drag into weeks, as the police lose interest and fliers fade on telephone poles, Emma's father finds solace in religion and scientific probability -- but Abby can only wander the beaches and city streets, attempting to recover the past and the little girl she lost. With her life at a crossroads, she will leave San Francisco for a country thousands of miles away. And there, by the side of another sea, Abby will make the most astounding discovery of all -- as the truth of Emma's disappearance unravels..."

Review:

Less ethereal than her first novel, Dream of the Blue Room, Richmond's writing shows a natural maturation; she's grown as writer, as is evidenced by Abby's yearlong journey from disbelief and grief, to quiet redemption.

Richmond alternates Abby's "what might've happened" scenarios regarding Emma's disappearance with Abby's often-heartbreaking and harsh reality, gentling the proceedings with a clear love of San Francisco (and its nooks and crannies, some well-known, others local-cool), as well as Playa Hermosa (in Costa Rica). So intense are the emotions displayed (or hidden) by the characters that the reader gets caught in the titular fog that engulfs them.

A beautiful, realistic and uplifting finish -- shot through with melancholy, like San Francisco itself -- caps this gripping heartachey work.

Check this baby out.

Robert Mitchum: “Baby, I Don’t Care” by Lee Server

(hb; 2001: biography)

Review:

Server provides a balanced lifelong view of one of the silver screen's most iconic actors, a regular guy who viewed acting as a job (nothing more), something to keep his family housed and fed. Mitch, or Bob, as he was known to his friends and associates, was privately sensitive and read many books (he was a longtime fan of John Steinbeck), yet his image -- also an integral part of the man -- as a philandering hard-drinking perenially-cool pothead dominated much of his life, resulting in many of the "gorilla pictures" he starred in.

(A "gorilla picture," Mitchum is quoted as saying in the book, is "[a film where] you get $250,000 to do all the wrong things in ten reels and in the last shot you get the girl and fade into the sunset.")

But Mitchum didn't only do "gorilla pictures." He starred in Where Danger Lives, Night of the Hunter, The Sundowners, both versions of Cape Fear ('62 and '91), The List of Adrian Messenger, Farewell, My Lovely, the hilariously deadpan Dead Man, and, of course, one of my all-time favorites, Out of the Past (which later was remade as Against All Odds, sans Mitchum).

Server also shows how Mitchum's disdain for pretense hurt him and those around him, as well. Mitchum's no-bulls**t attitude was often verbalized, and he didn't care who heard him -- and, particularly when he got older, his views were often misconstrued as racist, homophobic and insensitive by certain quarters of the public. But, again, there was more to the man than that. When he wasn't bored by a film he was shooting (and therefore, not drinking excessively), he was an admirable professional actor; however, if he felt like the film was a dogs**t endeavor, debacles occurred.

There's so much to the man's life that is fascinating -- his early, disaffected years; his friendships with era-definitive, sometimes creepy celebrities (Howard Hughes comes to mind); his marriage to wife Dorothy, which survived countless affairs, including the one that almost wrecked their marriage, Mitchum's three-year sexual liaison with Two For the Seesaw co-star, Shirley MacLaine; how Mitchum's proclivities for alcohol and pot later debilitated him, and contributed to his death at age 79 (on June 30, 1997, one month away from his eightieth birthday, and one day before his friend Jimmy Stewart died).

This is one of the best biographies I've read in the past year. Highly recommended, this, for anyone who's into noir, Hollywood's golden age (and its celebrities), and captivating characters who just happened to be real people.

By all means, check it out.

Brothel: Mustang Ranch & Its Women, by Alexa Albert

(pb; 2001: non-fiction)

From the back cover:

“It begins with an amazing revelation: Not a single legal prostitute in Nevada has contracted HIV since testing began in 1986. Why? Harvard medical student Alexa Albert traveled to Nevada in search of answers. Gaining unprecedented access to the world where the women share their experiences with unexpected candor. There’s Dinah, Mustang’s oldest prostitute, who turned her first trick at age fifty-one. And Savannah, a woman who views her work as a ‘healing’ social service for needy men.

“Nevada’s legal brothels are an incredibly rich environment for examining some of this nation’s thorniest issues. From problems of class and race to the meaning of family, honor and justice – all are found within this complex and singular microcosm. And in a country where prejudice is a dirty word – but not as dirty as hooker – these social issues are compounded and deepened by the stifling stigma that has always plagued the profession. But in the end, all of Mustang’s working girls are just women trying to earn their way to happiness…”

Review:

Albert’s writing is dissertation-dry, lacking the flare of more artistic-minded authors, but given her thematic slant and subject, it fits. Her journalistic language lends a veracity to the tales she tells about Nevada’s history, the lives of the brothel owners and their workers.

Albert occasionally asks provocative questions, spiking this otherwise light, sometimes sad read. Good book: solid, informative and entertaining, in an unpretentious way.

Crash, by J.G. Ballard

(pb; 1973)

From the back cover:

"In this hallucinatory novel, the car provides the hellish tableau in which Vaughn, a 'T.V. scientist' turned 'nightmare angel of the highways,' experiments with erotic atrocities among auto crash victims, each more sinister than the last. James Ballard, his friend and fellow obsessive, tells the story of this twisted visionary as he careens rapidly toward his own demise in an intentionally orchestrated car crash with Elizabeth Taylor.

"An underground classic, Crash explores the disturbing potentialities of contemporary society's increasing dependency on technology as intermediary in human relations."

Review:

Crash is focused (even as it feverishly rambles), deliciously perverse, poetically single-minded and made me view fellow motorists in a fresh and alarming way. Because of this book, I no longer view roads and streets as mere thoroughfares. They are more than that: they are battlegrounds where our desires, psychological damage and metal meet -- or could meet, in the Ballard/Vaughn sense of the world.

I've read books written in this fervid, stream-of-consciousness vein before, but few writers have maintained that grim, brilliant edge the way Crash does.

Own, don't borrow, this.

The resulting film, released stateside on March 21, 1997, was directed by David Cronenberg.

James Spader played James Ballard. Holly Hunter played Helen Remington. Elias Koteas played Vaughn. Deborah Kara Unger played Catherine Ballard. Rosanna Arquette played Gabrielle.

Side note: Chuck Palahniuk's Rant explored a similar-yet-differentiated theme. If you like Crash, there's a good chance you'll like Rant.

From The Borderlands: Stories of Terror and Madness edited by Elizabeth E. & Thomas F. Monteleone

(pb; 2003: horror story anthology)


Overall review

Exemplary anthology, originally published as Borderlands 5, with only a few clunkers in the mix. Well worth your time.


Standout stories

1. ) “All Hands” – John R. Platt: Quirky, delightful entry about a man who wakes up with a different pair of hands each day.


2.) “The Growth of Alan Ashley” – Bill Gauthier: Black-humored take on the delusion of “self-improvement” – a strange “growth” on the titular character’s body becomes imbued with increasing, dangerous importance. If this were a film short, I could see this being directed by Eraserhead-era David Lynch, or Videodrome-era David Cronenberg.


3.) “The Goat” – Whitt Pond: Heartbreaking tale about a teenage boy who’s trying to save his supposedly demon-possessed brother from their fellow townspeople.


4.) “The Food Processor” – Michael Canfield: Surrealistic tale about two brothers whose collective desire to build things conflicts with their Father’s desire that they become chefs, like him. Superior, semi-bizarre work, one that would make an excellent Tim Burton film, illustrated by Peter Max.


5.) “Storytime with the Bluefield Strangler” – John Farris: Destined-to-be-a-true-classic story about a little girl who’s being terrorized by a real-life boogeyman.


6.) “The Planting” – Bentley Little: Perverse B-movie gem about a pair of panties, a cabin and a dessicated mummy.


7.) “Infliction” – John McIlveen: Stunning, emotional tale about an ex-alcoholic tracking his runaway daughter, four years gone.


8.) “The Thing Too Hideous To Describe” – David J. Schow: Funny, ultimately sad story about a small-town monster who makes a friend. One of the most imaginative entries in this bunch.


9.) “Magic Numbers” – Gene O’Neill: The operative phrase for this one-of-a-kind work is um, wow. Memorable work.


10.) “Head Music” – Lon Prater: Another destined-to-be-a-classic tale, this one about a young man who’s drawn to a oceanborn monster in the middle of the night. Reminiscent of H.P. Lovecraft’s finer nightmares, or any issue of Creepy.


11.) “Around It Still The Sumac Grows” – Tom Piccirilli: Envy-inducing entry about a middle-aged man who returns to his high school – site of countless teenage humiliations – twenty years later.


12.) “Annabell" – L. Lynn Young: Sublime, sad work about a physically-beautiful mother who seeks to protect her deformed daughter from the barbed horrors of the world.


Solid entries

“Ramis Temporalis” (Gary A. Braunbeck); “Faith Will Make You Free” (Holly Newstein); “N0072-JK1” (Adam Corbin Fusco); “Time For Me” (Barry Hoffman); “Prisoner 392” (John F. Merz); “Answering the Call” (Brian Freeman); “Smooth Operator” (Dominick Cancilla); “A Thing” (Barbara Malenky); “Slipknot” (Brett Alexander Savory); “Stationary Bike” (Stephen King).


So-so entries

“Father Bob & Bobby” (Whitley Strieber); “Dysfunction” (Darren O. Godfrey); “One Of Those Weeks” (Bev Vincent).

The Second Glass of Absinthe, by Michelle Black

(hb; 2003)

From the inside flap:

“In the American West of 1880, Leadville, Colorado is the wealthiest mining district on earth, and by far the richest mine is the Eye Dazzler.

“When Lucinda Ridenour, the notorious widow-heiress to the Dazzler, chooses young Kit Randall to be her lover, Kitt thinks he has the world at his feet. But when their affair sinks into depravity, he must rediscover himself and find out if he has the character to survive in a society that has more money than morals.

“After waking up from an absinthe-created hallucination in which unspeakable acts seem to have taken place, Kit angrily leaves the house of Lucinda and her twenty-year old son, Christopher, feeling betrayed and exploited. Then, Lucinda is found stabbed to death.

“In the midst of this turmoil and of Leadville’s anxiety over its labor unrest and the impending arrival of the railroad, Kit’s uncle, Brad Randall, and his fiancée, Eden Murdoch, arrive in the boomtown planning to celebrate their wedding, but are instead shocked to learn Kit is the primary suspect in a sensational murder.

“Eden resolves to learn the truth and clear Kit Randall’s name. To do so, she forms an uneasy alliance with Bella Valentine, Kit’s former girlfriend and a dabbler in the occult. With this unlikely ally Eden uncovers shocking secrets of the Ridenour family just as Leadville’s first labor strike brings the town to an armed and dangerous standstill.”

Review:

Black packs enough historical backdrop and details into her novel to almost make the reader forget that this is a mystery novel; at the same time, however, the novel is clearly mystery-driven, as almost every scene relates to Randall’s supposed crime, with nary an extraneous word put to paper.

Absorbing, wonderful, and character- and period-rich (I’m a sucker for a well-written Western), this is a worthwhile work.