Book Reviews by Elizabeth A. White

I’m happy to welcome author Eric Beetner back to the blog. Eric’s latest book, The Devil Doesn’t Want Me, was recently released by Guilt Edged Mysteries, an imprint whose history Eric’s taking a look back at today.

In 1947 when Dutton needed a place to stash the harder boiled books coming in to their offices, they decided to set up a separate imprint. A tough book like Mickey Spillane’s I, The Jury wouldn’t mingle well with the upper class of Dutton’s roster. This was a new era in tough guy writing, noir with a sharper edge. And Guilt Edged Mysteries was born.

In the nine years Guilt Edged originally existed they published 82 hardcovers, including those first seven in the Mike Hammer series and pulp classics like Fredric Brown’s The Fabulous Clipjoint and The Screaming Mimi as well as Lionel White’s Clean Break which later became the basis for Stanly Kubrick’s film noir classic The Killing.

As a vintage pulp junkie, you can imagine my delight when Guilt Edged was relaunched earlier this year. And my mind was further blown when I got the news that the new Guilt Edged wanted to publish my book, The Devil Doesn’t Want Me. I immediately ran off to learn more about the short-lived imprint.

Not that there was a lot to learn aside from the titles, a chronological list can be found here. In looking at the books they chose to publish it is easy to see that they were rounding up the books with more extreme violence (for the time), pulpier plots and tougher tough guys. Female authors were few and far between and often used the time-honored trade of disguising their gender with initials, like with the book Murder At Drake’s Anchorage by E. Lee Waddell. The E. stood for Eleanor.

*OK, let’s get the elephant in the room out of the way first. Yes, I know James Patterson’s name is on the book too, first no less. However, with no disrespect intended to Mr. Patterson, I read this book because of Marshall Karp, whose writing I was familiar with from his own, outstanding Lomax & Biggs series. Having read all four of those, I can assure you that Marshall’s tone and influence shine through in this novel. So, onward.

New York, New York. If you can make it there, the saying goes, you can make it anywhere. The political big wigs of the city would love for the LA entertainment industry put that theory into practice, and as such have rolled out the red carpet for a huge, weeklong “Hollywood on the Hudson” event intended to lure West coast producers, directors, and actors to the Big Apple for their future film projects.

The NYPD Red task force was originally assembled to give special service and attention to the city’s rich and famous, whose money and opinion have tremendous influence on the city’s structure and reputation. Already a high profile, high stress job, the additional influx of all the A-List out-of-towners puts the members of NYPD Red on 24/7 duty to ensure things run smoothly during the “Hollywood on the Hudson” event.

Of course, we wouldn’t have much of a book if things went smoothly.

The first hitch in the giddyap occurs when a famous, and infamous, Hollywood producer keels over and dies during his power breakfast at a crowded, upscale Manhattan restaurant. Though the restaurant owners and city brass would love to write it off as a heart attack, less bad publicity that way, NYPD Red Detective Zach Jordan and his partner, Detective Kylie MacDonald, aren’t so sure. The way the witnesses describe the producer behaving right before his death sounds suspiciously like poisoning, and when another Hollywood icon goes down later the same morning in a spectacularly violent, and public, manner there is no longer any doubt – “Hollywood on the Hudson” is under attack.

The year was 19noneofyourfuckingbusiness, and I was 24, living in New York City, and almost broke, except that my job as an advertising copywriter qualified me for an American Express card. And despite the fact that nobody needs a car in New York anyway, my meager paycheck also allowed me to make monthly payments on a 1964 Mustang convertible — dark blue, white ragtop, white interior. I thought it was super macho, until a few years later when a film company rented it for a week for a movie they were shooting. The film: The Boys In The Band. It doesn’t get any more macho than that.

One day I decided that the Mustang and I had to take the ultimate road trip. A ride along The Mother Road, the world famous Route 66.

I convinced a friend from work to go with me. Her name was Judy, so you get that friend is a euphemism. But we did work together, and if you’re going to drive across country in a small car, Judy was a great choice. Fill in the blanks from your own youth.

A week before we took off, my wallet was pinched from my office. It turned up a few hours later, minus the few bucks I had and my American Express card. No problem. Amex issued me a new card. California here I come.

“The dead are patient. They don’t care how long it takes, but they want justice.” – Detective Wade Jackson

Though Wade Jackson has by far the best clearance rate of any detective in the Eugene, Oregon Police Department, he’s never worked a cold case before, which is what he’s up against in Dying for Justice, the fifth book in author L.J. Sellers’s series featuring the detective.

A handyman who confessed to a double-murder eleven years prior retracts his statement, telling Jackson he was isolated, starved, and tortured for three days by detectives before finally breaking down and confessing just to make it all stop. The handyman is dying of cancer and has nothing to gain by lying, and even shows Jackson the scars from where he was burned with cigarettes.

Investigating an eleven-year-old cold case is hard. Investigating one that apparently resulted in the conviction of the wrong man based on police misconduct is a minefield. Oh, and the victims? They were Jackson’s parents. This is going to get bumpy.

Meanwhile, Jackson’s partner/protégé, Detective Lara Evans, has a cold case of her own. Gina Stahl has been in a coma for two years, one everyone thought was the result of an intentional overdose. When Gina suddenly awakens, however, she declares that she was in fact attacked in her apartment and that the overdose must have been administered by her attacker. Further, though he was wearing a mask Gina is confident her attacker was her ex-husband, who just happens to be a cop… a cop Gina was on the verge of exposing for abusing his authority, actually. Did I mention things were going to get bumpy?

This was the second time in my life I’d had a gun pointed at me, and it still sucked. – Rebecca Robbins

Things have been pretty hectic for Rebecca Robbins since she left Chicago and returned to her tiny hometown of Indian Falls, Illinois. She had hoped to make a quick sale of the Toe Stop roller-skating rink she inherited upon her mother’s death, but five months later she’s still stuck in town trying to unload the place. Of course that’s not the only thing that’s been occupying her time.

She’s also dealt with a murder in one of the rink’s bathrooms (Skating Around The Law), had an on-again, off-again romance with the local veterinarian, made friends with a hat-wearing camel named Elwood (yes, you read that correctly), been roped into tracking down a stolen car, seen her deadbeat dad blow back into town, been mortified by her grandfather’s Elvis impersonator act down at the Senior Center, and faced menace from a group of mariachis (trust me, read Skating Over The Line if you’ve not already).

You’d think all that would be hard to top in the excitement department. You’d be wrong.

Skating on the Edge, the third book in the wonderfully wacky Rebecca Robbins mystery series, finds Rebecca dealing with a whole slate of new challenges. Things get off to a fast start when a death occurs at the Indian Falls Native American Summer Days festival. Rebecca was supposed to be the “target” in the Senior Center’s dunk tank, but roped someone else into taking her place at the last minute. When her replacement, Sherlene-n-Mean, a member of the roller-derby team which operates out of the Toe Stop, is electrocuted upon being dunked into the water Rebecca is left to wonder who was actually the intended target. And despite her past run-ins with local law enforcement and admonishment from them to stop playing amateur sleuth, Rebecca has no intention of sitting around waiting for someone else to solve the murder.

How do you define a thriller? Today L.J. Sellers, author of the award-winning Detective Jackson series, is here to talk about the expanding use of the term in fiction, as well as the reasons behind the increased usage of “thriller” to describe a book. Though not as contentious as defining the term “noir” – an argument that has been known to have ruined friendships and even lead to fisticuffs – there’s no question the parameters of what counts as a “thriller” have been steadily expanding. So, read what L.J. has to say on the subject and then weigh in with your opinion in the comments: how do you define a thriller?

Thrilling: adj., producing sudden, strong, and deep emotion or excitement

Doesn’t that pretty much describe all great novels? Yet according to librarians and bookstore owners, traditional labeling defines thrillers as fast-paced, realistic books that focus on plot more than character and have a high-stakes conflict as the heart of the story. And by high stakes they mean a lot more than a single life—or a series of selected lives—must be at risk. Whole cities or ways of life must be in peril.

But now, with many writers labeling their own work, just about any story with a crime or an element of suspense is called a thriller. Just as one example, Amazon’s #1 book on the thriller list is Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, a story of a marriage gone bad and a missing wife. It’s all about the characters. Readers love the story and many have labeled it thrilling, and being a fan, I plan to read it.

As a member of International Thriller Writers, I’ve written many features about new releases for the Big Thrill newsletter. With some, I’ve scratched my head and thought: Why is this called a thriller? The stories usually sound terrific, but still, I would call them paranormal suspense or historical mystery.

So pleased to have the lovely Sabrina Ogden here today to talk about her love of short stories, as well as her involvement with Shotgun Honey, both the flash fiction website and their anthology release, Both Barrels.

I still remember the very first short story that ever made an impact on me. I was in third grade and our teacher gave us an assignment to write a short story involving the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. It wasn’t the first writing assignment we had been given in her class. Mrs. King loved reading books to us and always encouraged us to use our imagination in our writing assignments. But it wasn’t until this particular assignment that I realized just how gifted some individuals could be at story telling.

It was the final day before Thanksgiving break when Mrs. King stood up in front of the class and told us that she had a very special story to read to us in preparation for the holiday. The story was written by my good friend Sara and it chronicled the life of a turkey family living on a ranch with hundreds of acres of roaming space. They were a happy family; a mother, a father, and three little ones, and they lived a perfectly happy life until the father was dragged away by the ranch owner and sacrificed in front of his entire family for Thanksgiving dinner.

I’ve always been a huge fan of anthologies, as I think it’s a wonderful way for readers to efficiently sample numerous authors’ work – take them for a test drive if you will – without having to invest in a full-length novel right out of the gate. I’ve discovered many new authors through anthologies, some of whom I’d probably never had read if not for coming across them this way.

I’m also a huge fan of any person or organization fighting to protect children and advocate for their rights, which is why the Lost Children anthologies are such amazing projects. Last year saw the release of the Lost Children Charity Anthology, which featured 30 stories from a flash fiction challenge issued by Fiona Johnson and Ron Earl Phillips. The book raised over $1700 for two charities, one in the US and one in the UK, and spurred editor Thomas Pluck to put together a second volume, Protectors: Stories to Benefit PROTECT.

Pluck upped the ante this time out, with Protectors featuring a whopping 41 stories from authors Patti Abbott, Ian Ayris, Ray Banks, Nigel Bird, Michael A. Black, Tony Black, R. Thomas Brown, Ken Bruen, Bill Cameron, Jen Conley, Charles de Lint, Wayne D. Dundee, Chad Eagleton, Les Edgerton, Andrew Fader, Matthew C. Funk, Roxane Gay, Edward A. Grainger, Glenn G. Gray, Jane Hammons, Amber Keller, Joe R. Lansdale, Frank Larnerd, Gary Lovisi, Mike Miner, Zak Mucha, Dan O’Shea, George Pelecanos, Thomas Pluck, Richard Prosch, Keith Rawson, James Reasoner, Todd Robinson, Johnny Shaw, Gerald So, Josh Stallings, Charlie Stella, Andrew Vachss, Steve Weddle, Dave White, and Chet Williamson. It also includes an exclusive look at the first three chapters of Ken Bruen’s upcoming novel, Spectre in the Galway Wind.

Obviously it would be impractical to review every story in the anthology, so I’ll simply highlight a few that particularly stood out to me.

Very happy to welcome the multitalented Joelle Charbonneau to the blog today. Though most of you probably know her as the author of the Rebecca Robbins and Glee Club series, Joelle has also performed in a variety of operas, musical theater and children’s theater productions across the Chicagoland area. Today’s she here to talk about being a mutant*, and why she also made her heroine a mutant. (*Ok, ok, a redhead.)

I am a redhead. Essentially that means I’m a freak. Red hair occurs in approximately 1-2% of the world’s population. Red hair appears when a person has two copies of a recessive gene on chromosome number 16. This causes a mutation in the MC1R protein and voila – red hair.

See…I told you I was a freak. Or perhaps a better way to say it is that I am a mutation. Ha! Now we’re all thinking about Zombies and crazy science fiction movies. Trust me when I say, I’d probably be the last person you want on your zombie apocalypse team unless you want me to fricassee up some brains. I’m a pretty mean cook, so I might come in useful there.

I point out my lack of zombie fighting skills because, for reasons unbeknownst to me, red heads have the reputation of being feisty, with kick ass tempers. One editor I know (who also had red hair), has rolled her eyes more than once at manuscripts that come through the door which describe their redheaded heroines as fiery.

While I have red hair and can get as pissed off as the next person, I’m pretty sure my mutated MC1R protein hasn’t caused me to be more violent or angry than a normal human being. (Or maybe those holes in my backyard aren’t caused by squirrels, but by my alter ego burying the remains of those who have ticked me off!) I will admit that I am stubborn and often think I can do more than I can possibly hope to accomplish in any given set of hours. However, that being said, I am less inclined to blame that on my mutated chromosomes and more on my determination to succeed.

The 23 stories in Seamus Scanlon’s collection As Close As You’ll Ever Be are loosely interwoven snapshots of the life of Irishman James “Victor” McGowan. From enthusiastic and wide-eyed boy to world-weary and jaded middle-aged man, the stories vividly evoke a life shaped by the unique social and political conditions found in Ireland during The Troubles.

The young boy’s obsession with jumping from heights and falling detailed in “Free-fall” takes on an interesting subtext given the backdrop of his childhood. Be it launching himself from atop his wardrobe to his bed or leaping headlong over the banister at the top of the stairs in the family’s home to a makeshift landing pad on the floor below, are the acts merely examples of a young boy’s natural energy, or do they reflect the deeper pathology of a person driven to seek the adrenaline rush derived from being in dangerous, fight or flight situations?

“Infected” shows how a fatherless twelve-year-old can be mislead into finding purpose and guidance in the flashy uniforms and military organization of the Aryan Youth, while “Drive This” and “Listen Here to Me” find a teenager willing to unleash lethal judgment on those perceived to have wronged him or his family, even if the person on the receiving end of the young man’s vengeance is family. And “Collecting” and “No Exceptions” are stark examples of the casual violence McGowan graduates to as a man working with the IRA.

“I dislike most people, and the few I do like I certainly don’t trust one single bit.” – Mary Cooper

Los Angeles based private investigator Mary Cooper has never met a snarky remark she didn’t like. Unfortunately, she’s prone to blurting out any quip that crosses her mind no matter the setting or company, which is not exactly the best course of action when dealing with clients and fellow law enforcement professionals.

She manages to hold her tongue long enough to get hired by a wealthy woman whose seventeen-year-old daughter has gone missing. The mother’s not sure if the young woman was abducted or simply ran away, but that her last known boyfriend was both older and involved in the porn industry certainly casts a sinister pall over her disappearance. Given the family’s high profile they’d prefer to keep the police out of it, and pay Mary in cash to keep things “off the books” and find their daughter.

Since Mary’s boyfriend, L.A. Detective Jake Cornell, is now working Vice you’d think Mary would have an “in” running down leads in the porn industry, only Jake seems to have gone missing too… while working undercover with a film studio whose specialty is porn.