Diane Plumley

The Short and Shorter of It–Part 2

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Continuing my exploration of this thick volume full of lovely murders, Bill Pronzini, a superb writer, with a book on my Best 100 Mysteries list, wrote a lyrical love note to the railroad. Pronzini has edited short stories himself, and is the author of the two wonderful Gun In Cheek books about the worst in crime fiction–or best, depending on how you define it. He and his wife, Marcia Muller, are responsible for a huge catalog of  quality work. So I wasn’t surprised to find him within the pages, not once, but several times, alone, or with a writing partner. Sweet Fever  is narrated by an old man who describes he and his grandson’s love of watching the train come through the tunnel at Chigger Mountain.

“The moon was so bright you could see the melons lying in Feride Johnson’s patch over on the left, and the rail tracks had a sleek oiled look coming out of the tunnel mouth and leading off towards the Sabreville yards a mile up the line. On the far side of the tracks, the woods and the run-down shacks that used to be a hobo jungle before the country sheriff closed it off thirty years back had them a silvery cast, like they was all coated in winter frost.”

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The Short and Shorter Of It–Part 1

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I was never a lover of short stories. Until I finally read some. Now I find them appealing due to an ever decreasing attention span. I have read a variety of pieces, mostly crime fiction, and a couple of Carson McCullers, Wilkie Collins, and various themes and authors. Long ago I was in love with Dorothy Parker. I need to revisit her. I found myself returning to one thick volume, 100 Malicious Little Mysteries edited by the late Isaac Asimov, Martin H. Greenberg and Joseph G. Olander. Published in 1981, I have a hardcopy in its 15th printing. Which says a lot about everyone’s attention spans. The stories are written by many different people, most of whom I wasn’t aware of. I’m not a subscriber to Ellery Queen Magazine, or other short story publications. I suppose if I had been, I would be familiar with most of the authors. Naturally, Asimov, Bill Pronzini, and the godfather of crime short stories, Edward D. Hoch are well known. But such names as Henry Slesar, Elsin Ann Graffan, Judith Garner, were strangers to me, and I would guess, they haven’t published full length novels. I should google to research them, but I’d rather move on and relish in the retelling of some of the most malicious tales.

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Hurricane Reading

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So, as the weather gurus are shouting their dire predictions on TV, the local police are calling each home to warn of impending doom, and my mother is repeating every minute change in the forecast,  my thoughts are on what the hell do I read if the power goes, and there’s no DVD’s of Mannix, or  reruns of Perry Mason to watch? Would I be forced to have a conversation?? I think not. So, scurry around I will to unearth absorbing, fascinating titles, while winds threaten to down every  tree, and rain causes leaves to clog the gutters. Sadly, we left the battery search until there are none in the county, so if I find something readable, I’ll be straining my eyes via candles, the old fashioned way.

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Bookish Halloween Costumes

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Hey, where’s the pork pie hat?

Once again, it is time for Halloweenie, and last minute costumes are being assembled. Why not dress up as your favorite literary character? I’d love to say this idea came to me out of the clear orange and black sky, but again, ABE led the way with their take on literary costumes. Some of their suggestions left me cold–as in, I have no idea what the book in question is about, let alone want to create a costume from a character. They suggest some of the usual suspects–Wizard of Oz types, Tom Sawyer, Ahab (must carry long harpoon) but most are original and offbeat. I’d never think of  being a character from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Universe, specifically because I’ve never bothered exploring the outer limits of the book. They suggest wearing a bathrobe and look confused. Hmm. I do like the idea of going as a giant ham, like Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird, even if she was in a school pageant, with nothing to do with All Hallow’s Eve. Consider dressing as the psycho ‘nurse’ in Misery with some torture device in your hands, says ABE. I’d go one better–why not the nurse from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest? Uh, what did she wear, again? Besides sadism on her sleeve? They have another Stephen King novel– It. Gee, how original, a sociopathic clown–never see them on Halloween, duh. Hey–I have the perfect Cujo–my dog Louie–and he doesn’t need a special costume, his teeth says it all. I’m really  into the futuristic fireman from Fahrenheit  451. The ABE article suggested lugging a stack of books around.  Better yet–go as a bookseller, you could attach either a ladder to your body with books at the top or be covered in store and book dust with a huge cardboard box attached at the hip. And that stack of books.

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The Butter Did It and A Incomparable Bookman

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A look at a yummy bookseller.

The Butter Did It. This is a running joke my friend Jamie McCoy will meet me with whenever he wants to point out my fallibility. Back when hypermodern collecting was all the rage, I would tout the newest first time author, depending on print run, etc. Not all new authors were great or even remained authors. Some faded quickly leaving behind a couple of signed books in someone’s hopeful collection of possible appreciating volumes. The Butter Did It melted away into oblivion and with it Jamie’s hope of resale at a profit. It became the symbol for Jamie and I, of the silliness in  believing every new novel could or should be collected. If I now recommend some book I think was a fantastic read, or possible investment, he utters those cholesterol filled words and we both chuckle, me a bit ruefully. Recently, Jamie had some heart related issues, and I swore to my husband I was going to create a card with the cover of the book on it and declare, ‘Yep, that’s right, Jamie, The Butter Did It! ‘ I never fulfilled that task, much to my regret, lol.

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My Ride With Gus–Best 100 Mysteries of All Time

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My Ride With Gus Charles Carillo 1996–available

As soon as my eyes hit the first paragraph of My Ride With Gus, this second time around, I remembered why I loved it so much. Fast paced, hip–90s style–and seriously funny, the original premise of a hapless rather self centered successful architect accidentally killing an unwanted New Year’s Eve club pickup, slowly evolves into a warm, layered, surprising novel, rich in family dynamics and misconceptions that engage the reader long past the initial crime. As a New Yorker, even one who hasn’t lived in the city for a few years, the setting and authentic language of the novel is especially appealing.

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“Salvaging” Prints From Books

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Janet Laura Scott book illustration hopefully still intact in a book somewhere.

Lately, on etsy I’ve noticed a ridiculous amount of sellers of vintage materials claiming they are ‘salvaging” the beautiful plates from children’s and illustrated books and magazines. And I know that many pieces are in terrible condition, books falling apart, missing pages, written on, cracked boards, colored in black and white line drawings, scissored magazine pages . . .  There is definitely a certain percentage of books out there that can be torn asunder and sold for x amount of dollars. But the shear volume of these plates lead me to the conclusion that books etc., on the borderline or in perfectly fine condition, are being pulled apart just for the plates within. And that is an unacceptable practice. At least for me.

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Tate So Called Publishing

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Are there many apple groves in the Caribbean?

So my mother is reading aloud from the local newspaper. Nothing new here. I get a rundown of obituaries and political letters daily. And sometimes, rarely, she reads something that actually may be of interest to me. This time it was about a local author signing a book somewhere at some time. A kid’s book; my mother thought it was fascinating because it’s about a trip to Cape May, NJ, long a favorite vacation spot for those living around here, and on the way they stop at Storybook Land, a nostalgic Mother Goose park that I love. Surprisingly, she was correct–I am interested. but not for the reason she thinks. I’m interested because it has become the practice of things called newspapers to print whenever a local ‘author’ is signing regardless if the writer is legitimately published or not. Self published authors are treated as equals to legit writers. Which irks the hell out of me. If all it takes is to write something, anything, print it out and contact the local library or B&N and they agree to an in-store signing, then, hell, let’s all do it. I’ve got two semi-written bad mysteries, and an even worse memoirist thing–if I pay someone to slap the stuff between two covers and bring a wheeled bag full of my literary gems, maybe I could be considered equal to Ernest Hemingway or the latest Booker Prize winner, whomever that may be.

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