I was a big fan of Emerson Lasalle, both the novelist and the unreconstructed literary figure. One of my favorite Lasalle stories holds that the legendary pulp writer, in the mid-1970’s, sucker punched Theodore Geisel outside a men’s room in La Jolla, California. This incident is said to have occured after a long day drinking at the track during a rare fallow period in Lasalle’s career. According to legend, a disoriented Lasalle told police officers, “I thought that was Armi Kuusela.”
As a writer, what I like most about this story is its addendum: Lasalle’s Nebula Award-winning The Mutants of Dr. Zeus was published just six months later, ushering in what scholars consider to be Lasalle’s third Golden Age.
Now for some news and doings from three top-shelf writers I’d recommend even if they weren’t good friends:
Mad Dogs, the long-awaited second crime novel from hard-writing hero Brian Hodge, is finally available. And there was much rejoicing. A struggling actor is mistaken for the criminal he recently protrayed on an “America’s Most Wanted”-type show. Blood is shed, complications ensue (and compound), pages fly by. Booklist says: “Horror fans know Hodge’s dark fiction … but he’s a new name to most crime-fiction readers. That deserves to change.” I couldn’t agree more.
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John Rector writes some of the most tightly-crafted, hard-hitting short fiction around. Check out his latest if you don’t believe me. (Top menu, Fiction/John Rector)
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Anthony Neil Smith is a Harry Crews for the new millennium, and Bleak House Books is one of the finest indie presses out there. Now these two great tastes will taste great together, starting with Yellow Medicine in 2008. I’ll be waiting. . . .
Now that the tricks are tricked and the treats are treated, let’s turn our attention to society’s true monsters. I’m talking, of course, about editor John McNally, writer Will Clarke, and this unspeakable book.
It seems that Clarke’s contribution, titled “How To Kill A Boy Nobody Likes,” has dusted up a ruckus in Rhode Island. Apparently, a number of concerned parents have mobilized around their shared objection to the “vulgar content” in this essay, which was offered as an elective, optional reading assignment to students at Cumberland High School.
As a concerned parent myself, I’d like to thank Lori Drew for protecting me and my family. “I feel it is my duty,” Drew affirms, “to ensure that not just my child is never handed this kind of vulgar material, but (that) your children never receive it as well.”
But seriously, all kidding aside, what is wrong with these people? Did they not read Tod Goldberg’s story?
Over the weekend, I attended a special screening of Coup de Torchon, a French film adaptation of Jim Thompson’s novel Pop. 1280.
I’d never seen this film and did not know it existed. Having seen it now, I’m very very glad I made the effort. I won’t bore you with my thoughts except to suggest that if you’re a Thompson fan, or a film fan, or if you have a couple free hours, you might like to check it out.
When you’re done with that, go look at Savage Art, Robert Polito’s terrific biography of Thompson himself. It’s nothing short of fascavaginating.
Recently I turned to a short story I’d written eight years ago. Even by my own measurements it was a long short story, even approaching novella territory. But I’d always liked it.
Looking at the manuscript eight years down the line, I couldn’t help noticing all the words in that thing.
I decided to see if I could sweat the story down to fighting weight. After three days, my revisions had reduced the story by a full half without losing any of the actual story (at least, without losing any of the story that belonged in the story).
I’ve also noticed that over the course of writing four novels, from Dirt through The Cleanup, each book has taken longer to write, but has ended up with fewer words in it, than the last.
If there was a low point to this year’s convention, it was of my own making, when I somehow managed to miss the presentation of the Crimespree Magazine Favorite Book of 2006 award for The Cleanup.
I only wish I had a valid excuse beyond helpless dumbitude. The founders of Crimespree—Jon Jordan, Ruth Jordan, and Jen Jordan, aka The Jordan Media Group—were the very first people to start talking about my first novel, Dirt, on Internet newsgroups and elsewhere, and their support and friendship has meant a lot to me over the years. That makes this award extra special.
All of which I would have said last Thursday night, had I been able to read a clock. And the Favorite Book of 2006 award goes to. . .the big fat jerk who just came in an hour late. Sheepish thanks (and hearty side-congrats) to Shamus winnner and all-around bloke Declan Hughes for being a proper Sean Doolittle. Eternal apologies to Jon, Ruth, Jen, and all involved with Crimespree Magazine. My subscription renewal check is in the mail. . . .
“I sure like your books, but your website is feeble. Check out Charlie Huston’s website. Now that’s a website!”
I couldn’t agree more. I dig Charlie’s books, and his website is awesome. I go there myself to learn about things.
Victor Gischler writes: “Now that you’ve finished a draft of your novel, I feel you should update your ‘blog’ more often.”
Okay, here’s the truth: I only started this blog because I discovered it could do for free what my old website did for $250 a year. I never meant to start blogging. But I never meant to own a cell phone, either, and now look. So here’s a blog post. I will do my best.
The aforementioned reader writes: “Could you please post a little entry, maybe letting readers know if this is a fiction manuscript, the estimated publication date, any other little details you might want to reveal? Just throw us the odd bone, if you will. . . .”
The manuscript is the next novel, titled Safer. The story involves a college professor, a retired cop, an overzealous neighborhood watch program, and a shallow grave. No publication date as of yet, but it’s scheduled to come out next summer, 2008. Currently waiting to hear what my editor thinks of all this.
Meanwhile, I’m reading Atticus by Ron Hansen and The Midnight Road by Tom Piccirilli. In the past several days I’ve listened to “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” by The Dropkick Murphys one-thousand times. I have also cleaned my office. It took seven hours. I’m currently drinking a beer.
