Book Reviews

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Black Alibi–Best 100 Mysteries of All Time

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Black Alibi— Cornell Woolrich–1942–used

The Leopard Man played on Turner Classic Movies yesterday. It’s a must see, again, film. Atmospheric, and in some parts, downright suspenseful and terrifying, it cannot hold a reader’s breath, the way the original source does, Black Alibi. I’ve proclaimed it before, Cornell Woolrich in all his various nom de plumes is my favorite writer, period. Not just favorite crime writer, but writer, of fiction. Yes, that means I like his work more than Dickens, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Poe, Collins, Steinbeck etc.,  ad nauseum. Is he a finer writer? By most standards, probably not. To mine, yes. Because he delivers life at its most frightening, vulnerable, frantic. Hysteria is never far from breaking out in little pustules–here and there–in one of his novels. Fear is attempted to be kept at bay, yet finds its insidious way back into a character’s life, sometimes as an expected guest, others as a stranger wreaking disaster. Black Alibi is a series of  horrific events in separate stories, all part of the larger novel. It begins with U.S. citizens, Jerry Manning, and Kiki Walker finding small success in the South American city of Ciudad Real. Kiki is a headliner entertainer at a local club, and Jerry, her manager. He thinks up a wild idea for publicity, accent on wild. He convinces Kiki to lead a black jaguar into the club for shock and awe, which in turn shocks the jaguar to escape into the night in the city. Each subsequent chapter follows a young woman as she is stalked as prey by what appears to be the missing jaguar. And it’s within these stories Woolrich’s best work is revealed.

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Sticks and Bones: Some of the Best Anthropology Books for Non-Anthropologists

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by Jas Faulkner 

I was voted most likely to be eaten by my subjects at WKU anth school.

Many brick and mortar stores ceased to have anthropology sections some time in the mid to late 90s’ .   One of the best anth sections in Nashville outside of the book store at Vanderbilt was at Davis-Kidd.  D-K was an indie that stubbornly provided good books for graduates of  programs at Western Kentucky, Middle Tennessee State, Vanderbilt and UTK years after the anth sections at the remaining big box stores were relegated to “social science’ shelves or co-opted by the rather academically anemic travel sections.

This is a pity, because most  people either took a single course as an undergraduate elective or had some form of anthropology class on their wish lists and never managed to find the time or an open section.  Those of us who majored in the subject often hear similar responses of regret about missed opportunities during university, especially when it came to working archaeological digs.  I’ll cut to the chase about most teaching digs:  Lying on the ground with a dental pick or a tooth brush while every bit of your body heat leeches into the soil or your backside bakes is not as glamorous as it sounds.  Is it exciting to find you’ve been sitting on top of a habitation site or the rock you’ve been patiently digging around is actually a diagnostic projectile point? Oh, yes it is! I’m

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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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A Guide To Books For Practicing The Crafts

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by Jas Faulkner 

Oh, you thought I meant the crafts as in The Craft.

No.

It’s October and frankly, writing about the Craft would be a bit too precious and  disrespectful to Wiccans and Pagans,  don’t you think?

I’m talking about crafts and crafters.    It’s a subject near and dear to my heart.  Given that the days of triple-digit killer heat seem to be over for a while and gift-giving season is upon us, maybe it’s time to give it some thought.  Those of you who sell books might want to think about crafts, too.

Inclement weather, snow days, and holidays are not too far off, which means potential buyers are going to scour the internet for craft ideas.  I understand the argument that  many people will stop at the hand full of  ideas they can find online.  In fact, I agree with it, to an extent.  That person is more than likely a casual crafter who may have a few finished projects, a half-dozen unfinished masterpieces, and a box of never opened craft supplies.  Odds are pretty good they’re not going to be buying craft books  from your store any time soon. They’re the grazers you’ll rarely if ever meet.  Let’s move on.

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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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Composition For Four Hands–Best 100 Mysteries of All Time

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Composition  for Four Hands—Hilda Lawrence–1947-OOP

“They wheeled her chair to the big bay window in her bedroom. She’d been fed and bathed. She’d had what they called her forty winks.  They said it was such a beautiful afternoon and wasn’t she lucky to have such a nice window? Then they left her.”

This is the ominous beginning to a story that builds in suspense. Unusual, that it’s not told in the first person, considering the main character is completely paralyzed. I would have probably gone with Nora Manson telling the story from her personal point of view, of her terror in the unknown and the fact that she was being targeted by someone in her own home, someone wanted to kill her.

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