Ruby

Stark House Press, and their imprint Black Gat Books, have done a fantastic job preserving Lorenz F. Heller's bibliography for modern audiences. Heller, a New Jersey native, authored a number of stellar crime-fiction and sleaze novels in the mid-20th century using names like Larry Heller, Larry Holden, Lorenz Heller, and Laura Hale. He also penned television scripts using the name George Sims. 

We continue our examination of Heller's reprints with Ruby, a crime-noir novel originally published by Lion in 1956. Stark House Press has published the novel as a twofer with another of the author's 1956 Lion publications, Hot. Both of these novels were originally published under the Frederick Lorenz pseudonym.

As Ruby kicks off, readers are introduced to Joe Latham, a former Army veteran that is now a successful Florida charter captain working the beach tourists in the Gulf of Mexico. Unbeknownst to Latham, his former girlfriend, Ruby, has been murdered. He finds this out from the local small-town deputy, a pudgy vile lawman named Floyd. Like a variant of the fugitive-on-the-run story, all fingers point to Latham as Ruby's killer. Fortunately, Latham was still in love with Ruby, so he has doubled reasons for finding her killer and clearing his own name.

Latham's amateur detective role is vividly brought to life as each page effortlessly slides by. Heller's prose is just so smooth as the protagonist digs through Ruby's most recent relationships to find suspects. His contention with the local police is a real highlight, and becomes the star attraction as the narrative flows into the book's calculated and rewarding finale. An enjoyable element to the story is a young kid that Latham is voluntarily mentoring, so his safekeeping is paramount as Latham seeks the murderer. Additionally, Heller blends a unique embezzlement side-story into Ruby's murder, making the crime a bit more dynamic.

Like usual, Lorenz Heller delivers a twisty and riveting crime-noir tale saturated with defining characters and a memorable storyline. Why Heller wasn't ranked higher in the crime-fiction literary echelon is a real mystery. Ultimately, Stark House Press is doing God's work by keeping his memory and work alive. Recommended! 

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Please...Save the Children

William Dubay (1948-2010) was an editor, writer, and artist for Warren Publishing, excelling on books like Creepy, Vampirella, 1984, and Eerie. Later in his career, he wrote a story for Heavy Metal, became an editor of Archie Comics and edited titles for Western Publishing. Fitting for Warren Publishing, Dubay's writing had some seriously dark overtones, evident in the memorable, disturbing story “Please...Save the Children”, which was drawn by Martin Salvador and featured in the July 1977 issue of Creepy.

At the beginning of the story, readers see a condemned child-killer named Beau sitting in a prison cell awaiting execution on death row. A priest enters the cell to discuss the man's forgiveness, but instead he is treated to a bizarre conversation from this seemingly insane person. Beau explains that if the priest only knew what he knew, then the priest would become a baby killer too. Then, Beau begins to relay his personal history to the priest.

Beau explains that he was once a loving husband and father, but after spanking his three-year old daughter Cryssie, she wanders away from home and dies in a blizzard. At the funeral, Beau regrets his decision to punish his little girl and experiences traumatizing anguish knowing she died alone after thinking he didn't love her. This experience transforms Beau into a violent vigilante. 

Beau begins to watch parents in public dismissing their children, or simply neglecting or punishing them in cruel ways. In an effort to save the children from abuse, he goes completely Mack Bolan and murders these children with a gun. His reasoning for targeting the children he wants to protect? By killing the children, he ends their suffering. If he murdered the parents, which are his real victims, then the children would would continue to suffer due to the loss of their parents. It's a sick catch-22 where Beau deems himself a twisted psychotic savior. Ultimately, it is like an animal that eats its young to protect them from predators. 

These Creepy stories tend to have unique twists in the narrative and this story is no different. When Beau confesses to his brother that he has become this avenging angel, he finds himself captured by law-enforcement. But, the twist is learning who his brother really is. Salvador's accompanying artwork is simply outstanding, with the facial expressions of the characters resonating the tension, horror, and tragedy of the story. If you are looking for an intense narrative, look no further than this vintage short. You can obtain an old copy of Creepy for a few bucks on Ebay or comic shops, or read the story for free below:

Someone's Watching

Andrew Neiderman is a Paperbacks from Hell kinda guy. He was born in 1940 and became a best-selling novelist with his 19th career novel, The Devil's Advocate, which was later adapted into the 1997 film starring Al Pacino and Keanu Reeves. Before that, he was writing horror paperbacks with covers featuring dolls, skeletons, haunted houses, and killer dogs. In total, he has authored nearly 50 novels, all of which are either horror or suspense. He was even able to temporarily ghostwrite under the name V.C. Andrews, which is like a legal ticket to print money. Needless to say, the guy is doing okay with the bank tellers. My only experience reading his stuff is a creepy looking 1983 horror paperback from Pocket Books called Someone's Watching. 

The book is set in a rural small town in northern New York and features two protagonists, 18-year old mechanic Marty and his step-sister, fifteen year-old high-schooler Judy. Immediately, your mind is going back to the mid-20th century sleaze paperbacks from Midwood that fixated on the 'ole brother-sister-swingding. Your mind isn't playing tricks on you, because sure enough Marty and Judy get to swingin' when Marty's alcoholic deadbeat father Frank marries Judy's gullible imbecile mother Elaine. One happy family.

So Frank is a drunk pervert 99% of the day, which makes it really uncomfortable for innocent Judy. After moving into Frank's house, Judy confides in nice guy Marty that she feels as if Frank is wanting to rape her. Marty, who knows his Dad is a total douche, sympathizes with Judy and promises to protect her in case Frank gets out of hand. With Elaine and Marty out of the house, it's just a matter of time before Frank gets randy. When Marty returns home, he catches Frank in the midst of raping Judy. Grabbing the closest blunt object to repel a rapist, Marty clunks Frank over the head. Hard. Frank hits the ground and Marty totally panics.

Like a good 1950s crime-noir tale, Marty refuses to see the logic of summoning the police to explain Judy's rape and ensuing scuffle. Instead, they do what any step-siblings in love do – they pack their bags and hit the fugitive highway to live and love. Here's where things get pretty darn creepy and horrifying in this vintage horror paperback. 

The duo decides the best place to hide is an old abandoned resort area in the Catskill Mountains. It's here that a sprawling hotel once thrived with a casino, baseball field, and deluxe swimming pool. But, decades ago the place went under financially and the bank repossessed it. Oddly, aside from dust, broken light fixtures, and black mold, most of the complex is still fully furnished and usable. Oh, and there's a homicidal mentally-disturbed person living in the attic. That's sort of the problem right there. The murderer.

Approximately 100 pages are spent on Judy and Marty exploring the old hotel and learning more about its history. The only other person besides the three of them (Judy, Marty, Killer) is an old man that owns the hotel. You see he is also mentally ill and living in the hotel thinking it is still thriving and filled with happy tourists. In his dementia, he doesn't know any other way besides continuing to work at the hotel and providing support for his imaginary workers and guests. This old man has a son-in-law (real guy) that randomly delivers food via the back door. 

While Neiderman spends a great deal of time on Marty and Judy, including some tepid sex scenes, most of the book is divided into perspectives of different characters. The first is obviously Marty and Judy, but the second, and most interesting, is the perspective of the deranged lunatic living in the building's attic space. This guy's identity is relatively unknown for most of the book, and his mental headspace is a perverted creepy wonderland. Think of being trapped in the mind of say...Norman Bates (Psycho). The narrative slowly builds to the inevitable confrontation, when all three parties eventually run into each other in the massive hotel. There's also another character that eventually ends up there too, but I won't spoil it for you here. 

Listen, this isn't the best horror or suspense novel you'll read. But, the idea of having an abandoned resort hotel as a sprawling “do what you want” wonderland is pretty darn amazing. The aspect of hotel exploration was really intriguing, and it compares to the more superior novel Creepers by David Morrell. When it wants to be creepy and psychologically enthralling, it is. Unfortunately, the old man's participation in the narrative was a real downer. The novel would have worked better with just the three characters. But, overall, this one is worth reading. 

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87th Precinct #07 - Killer's Wedge

Ed McBain’s 87th Precinct novels are the perfect remedy for a summer reading slump. The earlier installments of the series stand alone quite nicely, and these urban police procedurals are always short and exciting. I randomly chose 1959’s Killer’s Wedge, the seventh installment, for this excursion.

A crazy bitch walks into the 87th Precinct looking for Detective Steve Carrella. The fellows tell her that Carrella is away, but she can wait on the bench in the hall for him. The lady wants to wait in the detective bullpen, which is a no-go for the guys. When they ask her to leave, she pulls a gun on them, and we have a hostage situation. Man, this is an awesome opening scene.

We quickly learn that the lady wants to kill Carrella. She can explain her reasons when you read the book. She has a container of liquid that may or may not be nitroglycerin, so disarming her is not as easy as it seems. McBain’s takes a different tactic with this aspect of his story, which otherwise would have been filled with nervous tension. Instead, the detectives are mostly annoyed and worried that this nutty chick is going to accidentally kill them all.

There is also a decent B-Story involving a locked room mystery that may or may not have been a suicide. Carrella is investigating this on the streets while his squad mates are being held hostage by the murderous lady awaiting Carrella‘s return to the 87th. This is another plot made entirely possible by the lack of cell phones.

The events culminate in a fantastic action sequence to end the thin paperback. This may have been the shortest of the 87th Precinct novels. A version of it appeared in February 1959’s Manhunt Magazine, and the book lives on to this day as a reprint, e-book, and audiobook. It’s probably not the best 87th Precinct series selection, but it’s not a bad place to enter if you are looking for a short taste of this wonderful McBain universe. Recommended. 

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Death Tour

In Stephen King's Danse Macabre, the 1978 horror novel Death Tour is described as “funny/horrible”. The book, authored by a rather obscure guy named David J. Michael, made an appearance in Grady Hendrix's Paperbacks from Hell, and is often a novel lumped in erroneously with the “fall, mauled, and clawed” animal-attack genre that permeated the 1970s and 1980s. No matter which cover used, the hardback version published by Bobbs-Merrill Company in 1978 or the NEL 1980 paperback (painting by Bob Martin), both versions suggests the book feeds the urban myth of raging, ravenous alligators attacking unsuspecting maintenance workers and sewage tourists (they exist!). 

Unlike David Hagberg's 1976 genuine sewer-dwelling creature-feature Croc, reviewed right HERE, Death Tour isn't really a gator-munchin' tale at all. It just seems that way.

Tom Marsh is a journalism student that leads a five-member band of spunky production workers contributing to the University, a college news-rag. It's a hip group of kids, cleverly calling themselves Five-Star, that drive around in a hearse to investigate sensational newsworthy incidents. Tom's girlfriend Mary is in the group, and their relationship is central to the narrative. Mary's father, a disgruntled sanitation manager that oversees shit (literally), is overprotective and absolutely despises Tom, aka Academic Scholar. 

Through Mary, Tom learns that there is a real possibility that alligators are ravaging the city's sewer pipes. You see, this was a thing that started in New York City in the 1970s, when people would purchase baby alligators from pet stores. When responsibility and space became too cumbersome, owners flushed their beloved reptiles down the toilet where they grew into monstrous creatures devouring underpaid union workers. The flushing of the reptiles probably happened, but nothing resembling the mass hysteria created by the film Alligator (1980). 

Soon, the Five-Star gang are driving their hearse to a nearby manhole cover where they descend into the madness with a dead duck and lots of camping gear. While the hunt for a gator was fun, the narrative was really bogged down with a lot of filler and sludge. I almost threw in the towel...or toilet paper...but by 100 of 193 pages, this novel rose through the mediocre crap to be totally badass. 

It turns out that alligators may or may not be in the sewer, but the real menace is human. When one of the group is impaled with a metal spear, the Five-Star gang discover a grizzled, cloaked human living in this nasty underwater dwelling. Does Death Tour become Hunter's Blood in the sewers? It's not quite the “cannibals hunting humans” gimmick you're thinking of. But, there is definitely a similar cool vibe throughout the book's third act. I was pleasantly surprised to learn what the real menace was and it neatly tied up an earlier plot development.

By no means is Death Tour riveting, well-written action-adventure. Nor is it a shocking, white-knuckle terror-ride. It doesn't have to be. Instead, this obscure novel demanded my attention and I was well-rewarded with a fun reading experience. This was really enjoyable and I highly recommend hunting down a copy. Don't listen to Stephen King. It isn't funny or horrible, it's just a damn good time.

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Conan - Shadows in Zamboula

The November, 1935 issue of Weird Tales featured “The Man-Eaters of Zamboula”, a Conan the Cimmerian story authored by Robert E. Howard. The story was later republished in the 1954 Gnome Press collection Conan the Barbarian and the 1968 Lancer paperback Conan the Wanderer as “Shadows in Zamboula”. The story was adapted to comic format in Savage Sword of Conan #14 (1976), and reprinted in Conan Saga #17 (1988) and The Savage Sword of Conan #2 (2008).

Conan finds himself horseless in the westernmost outpost of the Turanian Empire, Zamboula. This city, ruled by Jungir Khan and his mistress Nafertari (revealed in this story) serves as a diverse meeting place for traders and drifters. But, Conan hears a tale about a mysterious inn owned by a man named Aram Baksh. Rumor has it that newcomers to the city fall prey to the innkeeper, disappearing to parts unknown while their belongings are later sold in the marketplace. Conan, never backing down from a challenge (see "Tower of the Elephant"), wants to learn the secret of this dreadful place.

The Cimmerian hero soon approaches Baksh about spending the night at his inn. One of the odd things that Conan learns is that at sundown, no one ventures into Zamboula's streets, not even the beggars. Shown to his room, Conan pulls the curtain on the quieting town, locks his door, and falls asleep with his sword in hand. He awakens in darkness and discovers an intruder has unlocked the door and forced himself into the room. Conan quickly kills the intruder and discovers he is a black Darfari slave with teeth filed down to fangs. This man is a flesh-eating cannibal! 

Conan learns that Baksh has been selling his guests to the cannibals, then selling their belongings at the marketplace. This is why at dark, Zamboula lies in a quiet stupor as Baksh's disturbing transactions take place. With sword in hand, Conan journeys onto the dark streets and finds three cannibals carrying a woman towards a torturous bone pit. Slaying the psychos, Conan teams up with the girl to find her kidnapped lover (another victim for the flesh-eaters!) and they do battle with an evil priest named Totrasmek.

Robert E. Howard was really on top of his game with this eerie, violent tale. There's so much atmosphere in the early going with Conan discovering the intruder and venturing into the quiet streets. The author's vivid descriptions of cannibals, and the evil magic of Totrasmek, possessed enough imagery to rival the best of H.P. Lovecraft and other pulpy horror of the era (or even today for that matter). The overall theme – Conan accepting a challenge for money – always has a twist with these stories and this one was no different. The thrill-ride to arrive at the surprise twist was pure pleasure. This is my kind of Conan story, highly recommended.

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5 Against the House

Jack Finney's (1911-1995) best known novels are The Body Snatchers (1955), which was adapted into the 1956 popular science-fiction film Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Time and Again (1970), and Assault on a Queen (1959), which was adapted into a film of the same name in 1966. My only experience with the author was his prison-break novel House of Numbers, which I really enjoyed. In the mood for heist-fiction, I chose to read his first published novel, 5 Against the House. It was published in 1954 as a hardcover by Doubleday & Company and made into a 1955 film of the same name by Columbia Pictures. It was also a serialized story featured in Good Housekeeping.

Al is a bright young kid attending college and planning for his future. His pack of friends includes fellow students Guy, Jerry, Brick, and Tina. After seeing a Brink's Security truck roll by, the guys fantasize about robbing the truck and making off with a fortune in stolen money. Unfortunately, they put the plan into a loose sketch and decide to follow the truck as it makes various stops. Needless to say, the police watch for that sort of thing and immediately pull the kids over with a warning to stop the nonsense. Which was really all it was.

But, the kids aren't smart enough to leave well enough alone. Instead, they piece together a plan to rob a Reno casino called Harold's Club. The kids have worked in and around the place holding summer jobs serving the tourists. The first half of the book's narrative consists of the plan, holdup, escape route, and so forth. The second half is the heist itself and the aftermath.

Heist-fiction is a lot of fun and Jack Finney certainly understood the ins and outs of working within this sub-genre of crime-fiction. While not as violent as a Parker or Earl Drake novel, Finney makes up for it with an intense human study of emotion – guilt, integrity, responsibility, loyalty – while defining the characters of Al, Tina, and Brick. There is a deep ravine carved in the friendship between Al and Brick, and Finney does an excellent job excavating that for the reader. Additionally, Tina's fascination with money and swanky lifestyle propels Al's participation in the narrative. It's the decisions and the aftermath that made House of Numbers so good, and I was happy to learn Finney used (learned?) those elements here.  

5 Against the House is just a great heist novel featuring likable characters and a fresh take on “take the money and run”. If you haven't tried Jack Finney yet, either this novel or House of Numbers is a great place to start.

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Eve Ronin #03 - Gated Prey

In my review of Lee Goldberg's Bone Canyon (Jan, 2021 Thomas & Mercer), the second installment in the Eve Ronin police-procedural series, I stated that every page in the book meant something. Eve's steadfast, relentless investigations into city corruption, murder, and victim injustice consumed each and every page, leaving no clue neglected for readers and fans to decipher and discover. That sentiment holds true for the series' third entry, Gated Prey (Oct, 2021 Thomas & Mercer), as Los Angeles County Sheriff's detective Eve Ronin, and her partner Duncan “Doughnuts” Pavone journey into some fairly unusual areas to solve a violent home-invasion case.

As the book begins, Eve and Duncan are conducting a sting operation in a 4,500 square-foot mini-mansion in the fictional Calabasas gated community of Vista Grande. The assignment is to bait and catch a group of armed robbers plaguing the community. Eve and Duncan must understand the method of how the robbers are passing the guards undetected if they have any hope of catching the culprits. Thankfully, the sting operation brings the criminal network to fruition, but two of the criminals are killed in the conflict and another escapes to a crowded store. This exciting opening scene sets the stage for Goldberg's twisty narrative to come alive with colorful characters and the obligatory investigation and turbulent aftermath.

By this third novel, readers are aligned with Eve's strong resistance to police corruption and the political upheaval that most of her cases create. One of the most endearing and entertaining aspects to this series is simply watching the young, talented homicide detective ebb and flow through the bureaucracy, endless red tape, and deep criminal channels that seem to envelope society.

Like a riveting multifaceted procedural mystery (John Creasey's excellent Gideon comes to mind), Goldberg's narrative doesn't just present one case for readers and heroes to solve. Instead, Gated Prey presents a number of different story-lines involving not only the home-invasion robbery angle, but also the death of a newborn baby, the aftermath of a deputy's suicide, and Eve's adjustment to a new Captain. All of these elements create a wonderful smorgasbord of crime-fiction that continues the same level of excellence we've come to expect from this new series.

Gated Prey is another stellar installment in the wildly entertaining Eve Ronin series and a further testament to Lee Goldberg's strength as a creative, innovative storyteller. Highly recommended. 

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Commander Shaw #08 - Skyprobe

United Kingdom author Philip Donald McCutchan (1920-1996) was the creator of the 22-book spy series starring British Naval Intelligence Commander Edmonde Shaw - a literary rival to Ian Fleming’s James Bond series. My first exposure to the series was the eighth installment, Skyprobe, from 1966.

I approached this series with some trepidation because of the whole “Commander” routine and my lack of interest in British Naval fiction or maritime adventures. I’m happy to report that there was no Navy stuff at all in the paperback, and Shaw may as well have been an operative for MI5, U.N.C.L.E., or The Salvation Army. He’s just a fairly generic British Spy working for The Crown.

While enjoying a beer at a pub, Shaw is approached by a man whom he immediately makes as a Polish Intel Officer. The Pole tells Shaw that there is a threat against the American spacecraft, Skyprobe IV, now in orbit. Soon thereafter, the informant is found dead in a park.

The man on the other side appears to be a Swiss mercenary who is clearly working for the dirty commies. But what harm could he cause an orbiting space mission that’s been in the sky for 13 days? The Brits care deeply about this mission because one of the astronauts on-board is a renowned British scientist, and the ship is using an experimental new fuel that will be a game-changer in the space race.

Shaw basically serves as a detective running down logical leads to learn who wishes to menace the orbiting spacecraft and why. The action cuts between Shaw on the ground and the astronauts inside Skyprobe IV blindly going about their mission while unknown forces are trying to undermine it.

I enjoyed this book and found it to be a good place to enter the series. Shaw is smart and tough, but not brimming with personality like, say, Matt Helm. You still like the guy because he’s competent and properly inquisitive. It was clearly written to be a James Bond clone, and I enjoyed the novel about as much as the Ian Fleming books I’ve read. I’d put Commander Shaw at the same quality level as Adam Hall’s Quiller series. It’s way better than Nick Carter: Killmaster, yet still inferior to Matt Helm.

Skyprobe is an easy recommendation for anyone enjoying a good spy yarn without the cartoonish conventions the genre often employs. In short, the novel made me want to explore the series further.

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Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Frank Lambirth (1928-2007) earned his M.A. at the University of Kentucky, then began a career as a high school teacher while also lecturing at UC Davis. Lambirth directed numerous melodramas performed by students and faculty, and in the mid-1980s, he formed the successful Puget Sound Writers Guild, a nonprofit that offered guidance, teaching and feedback for creative writers. While publishing at least two novels under his own name, Lambirth created various pseudonyms, developed drafts and novels using those names, and then would sell the pseudonym. He considered it saleable property. 

While teaching, he once taught a course in the supernatural. He would spend hours with his students sitting in supposedly haunted places conducting field studies. Perhaps his keen interest in the supernatural propelled his writing career. The only two novels I've located with Lambirth's name is Behind the Door (1988) and Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep (1989), both of which are horror. Owning both books, I decided to try Lambirth's writing with the latter novel, originally published as a paperback by Popular Library with cover-art by Mark and Stephanie Gerber.

In the book's opening pages, readers are introduced to protagonist Linc Wilhite. Through a hazy presentation, Wilhite's backstory is saturated with various memories of a love lost, a regretful childhood, an estrangement from his father, and a murky hospital stay. The author only fills in these blank spaces in the narrative's second-half, with one major detail coming near the book's finale. At 231 pages, it's a long road to get there. But, the narrative's central story is Wilhite's experiences in a new job serving as a caretaker in a rural area known as Stone Warrior Island.

Wilhite accepts a job as a lone caretaker for two vacation houses off the coast of the Pacific Northwest. The island is submerged in creepy folklore about Satanism, murder, and a spectral bird, all of which are insanely broadcast by the island's former caretaker, a deranged man who warns Wilhite that Satan lives on the island. Brushing off these ramblings, Wilhite takes the job and is flown to the destination to prepare the houses for the owners' upcoming vacations and a family of renters from New York.

During a few days of isolation, Wilhite – and the reader – explores the houses, the surrounding forest, and the various locks and keys required to enter certain areas. The conclusion is that this place is truly in the middle of nowhere. But, Wilhite receives the New York family of visitors soon and the customary meet and greet ensues. The father is a stressed businessman hounded by his wife, two daughters, and a son. After a warm welcome, things turn sour when Wilhite is invited to join the family for dinner. This altercation, which I won't spoil here, leads Wilhite to question the family's intentions. 

Lambirth's ultra-creepy factor settles in at the halfway point. Through the windows, Wilhite notices that the family is camped in the den, completely stationary, watching hours upon hours of television - on their vacation to the great outdoors. After two solid days of television, Wilhite sneaks a closer look and is horrified at his discovery. Something murderous is stalking Stone Warrior Island.

Do you recall all of those great slasher films of the late 70s and early 80s? For example, when Laurie Strode ventures across the street near the end of John Carpenter's original Halloween? The house is quiet and foreboding, then she hears a creaking as if someone is moving upstairs. You and I both know that Myers is upstairs in the dark. This book works at that atmospheric level. Wilhite, who is basically the only voice the reader hears for most of the book, is left in isolation with a presence that exists off the page. The signs are all there – items shifted around, doors unlocked, footsteps in the house, mysterious fires – but it's all a mystery on who or what it is. Additionally, when a young girl appears, the book reminded me of that great 1970s horror film Let's Scare Jessica to Death. But, it isn't all great.

As good as Lambirth is with creating spooky, unnerving atmospheric horror, he isn't a fabulous storyteller. He shines with descriptive details, describing each scene with vibrant colors and calculating each footfall to the timing of the character's heartbeat. The author is mesmerizing when it comes to painting a room. Yet, dialogue and the character's recollections of the past were nothing short of awful. Thankfully, most of the book is just the reader in the headspace of Wilhite. But, when other characters interact, the writing is amateurish and wonky. It's really a mismatch of sheer greatness and pompous excess. 

The verdict? Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep was a fun reading experience. It was haunting, cerebral, descriptive, atmospheric, and most importantly, it stayed with me long after the last page was read. Despite the clunky writing, the novel served its purpose quite well. It just isn't an absolute gem. I'm not dismissing Lambirth and plan on reading his other horror novel soon.

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Crossfire Trail

When I browse “best of” lists associated with the literary work of Louis L'Amour, a few books seem to always make the list – Hondo, Flint, The Sacket Brand, The Haunted Mesa, and Last of the Breed. Aside from those, every third or fourth list seems to incorporate his 1954 western novel Crossfire Trail (Ace). This could be due to the 12.5 million viewers that tuned into the 2001 made-for-cable television movie of the same name that featured Tom Selleck. I've always heard good things about the book, so I decided to finally give it a read.

The book begins with protagonist Rafe Caradec (last name Covington in the film), a soldier-of-fortune,gambler, journeyman, aboard a ship bound for San Francisco. His friend Charles Rodney has just been beaten nearly to death by the notorious ship captain. In his dying breath, Rodney reminds readers, and Caradec, that he paid a businessman named Barkow the money owed for his Wyoming ranch. Rodney has paperwork that he has left for Caradec to deliver to his widow, Ann. Then, Rodney dies, and Caradec and some fellow shipmates escape the vessel and head to Wyoming to deliver the news.

When Caradec arrives in the small Wyoming town of Painted Rock, he discovers that Ann has been fed a lie by a group of businessmen who all have a reason to own Rodney's ranch. First, they advise her that the ranch wasn't paid for. Second, they have explained to her that her husband was killed by a Sioux war party a year earlier. When Caradec attempts to explain the truth to Ann, she refuses to listen to his “lies”. 

The plot propels as Caradec, in a quest to uphold his promise to Rodney, must fight the businessmen responsible for the corruption and lies. There's Barkow, now Ann's fiance, along with another vile villain named Dan Shute and the obligatory hired gunmen that murder anyone disputing Painted Rock's form of justice. 

Crossfire Trail is an expanded version of a short-story called "The Trail to Crazy Man", originally published in the July, 1948 issue of West (under a pseudonym of Jim Mayo). There's plenty of action, fisticuffs, fast-draws, and a love interest that anchors the narrative firmly in the “traditional old-west formula”. While it was predictable with the familiar L'Amour trope of “gunman protects widow and ranch”, the writing was superb as always. There's nothing to dislike about Crossfire Trail and I thoroughly enjoyed the banter between Caradec and his friends. As an added bonus, there is a side-story of Caradec rescuing a young Sioux woman, a plot point that serves dividends later. 

If you love traditional western storytelling, chances are you've probably already read Crossfire Trail. If not, I recommend it as your next cowboy yarn. 

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Fog Hides the Fury

Paul Hugo Little (1915-1987) authored novels in genres like historical-fiction, romance, erotica, gothics, and crime-fiction. Supposedly, Little authored over 700 novels in his career, averaging a novel every week and a half beginning in 1963. He used numerous pseudonyms like Marie de Jourlet and Leigh Franklin James. My first experience with Little is his gothic novel Fog Hides the Fury. It was published by Magnum in 1967 under the pseudonym Paula Minton. 

Arlene Dade inherits her family fortune when her father dies in an automobile wreck. The fortune stems from a shipping business created by her great grandfather. Since she was a young girl, Arlene has been living with her Aunt Clara, a sickly woman plagued by asthma attacks. After graduating college, Arlene begins an honorary career of attending her company's legislative and leadership meetings to determine the future of the company.

After having her purse snatched at a local restaurant, a young man springs into action and runs after the thief to retrieve the purse. Arlene marries the man, and later discovers that his family had partnered with her family in the shipping business until things went sour to create an amicable split. Could this whole purse-snatching skit just be a sham so that the man can get Arelene to fall in love with him? Is he secretly hoping to marry into her fortune to gain a free ride on easy street?

Unfortunately, the plot is revealed just like it sounds. There is no shocking twist here, as Aunt Clara even predicts the book's ending. At 218 pages of large font (Easy Eye edition), Little simply goes through the motions of writing a narrative about Arlene's life. Her childhood, high school, college, marriage, and discovery of her husband's deceit is all wrung out of this boring, plodding narrative.

Magnum lists “gothic” on the book's spine, but the novel doesn't really have much in common with a gothic aside from a large house (in San Francisco for God's sake) and some thick fog. It's missing the mysterious painting, rumors of ghosts on the upper floors, the family curse, and a penchant for the dark and spooky. Granted, there's a shoreline, a family secret, some bumps in the night, and two deaths, but nothing that stands out as atmospherically “goth”. 

If you are wanting a predictable romance novel, then by all means track this one down. If you want entertainment, look elsewhere. The book is average at best.

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The Bridges at Toko-Ri

James A. Michener (1907-1997) was a bestselling author who never knew the identity of his biological parents, or when and where he was born. He attended Swarthmore College and University of Northern Colorado, earning degrees in English, Education, and History. He was employed as a teacher, served in the U.S. Navy during WW2, worked as a campaign manager for U.S. Senator Joseph S. Clark, and as an editor for Macmillan Publishers.

Michener's first novel was Tales of the South Pacific (1947), a book based on the author's own experiences in the war. It won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1948 and was adapted into the hit Broadway musical South Pacific. His writing career flourished, eventually selling around 75 million copies with popular historical sagas like Hawaii (1959), Centennial (1974), and Caravans (1963). 15 of the author's books or short stories were adapted to the screen.

My first experience with Michener is The Bridges at Toko-Ri, a 1953 novella that was adapted to film by Paramount Pictures one year later. The film was directed by Mark Robson and starred William Holden, Grace Kelly, and Mickey Rooney. My copy of the book is a 1976 Corgi paperback, a sixth printing that shows prior publications by Bantam in 1962 and Secker & Warburg in 1953.

At 106 pages, Michener's novel explodes with tension, drama, and action as American pilots aboard the USS Savo (named after the real USS Savo Island) plan and execute bombing routes during the Korean War. The book's main character is Brubaker, a frustrated Naval Reserve officer and Naval Aviator who is an attorney back home. He isn't happy about his participation in the Korean War, but understands his talents and the contributions he can make to the war effort. In the book's opening pages, Brubaker's carrier-based jet is downed into the ocean, forcing a fellow aviator named Forney to assist in a rescue.

Both Brubaker and Forney have deep conversations with Admiral Tarrant regarding their missions, brotherhood aboard the ship, and the fact that their assignment – bombing bridges in a heavily fortified position – is a delicate, highly dangerous run that may cost them their lives. Michener injects three endearing side-stories concerning Brubaker's shore leave with his wife and kids, Forney's discovery that the love of his life is marrying someone else, and Tarrant's own struggles with the loss of his son during battle in WW2. 

The book's climactic bombing run was like something out of Star Wars or Top Gun: Maverick. The pilots must fly at low altitude through a slim valley protected by cannons and guns, destroy the targets, and then escape before the Korean fighter jets can intercept them. While the mission is mostly a success, the ending was quite surprising and left me with tears in my eyes. Michener's narrative is such a moving patriotic look at the horrors of war and the unnecessary eternal struggle that humans wage against each other. 

The Bridges at Toko-Ri was simply fantastic and the pages breezed by. It's rare to find military-fiction that is set during the Korean War, so the locale and discovery of facts and data regarding the campaign was really enjoyable. Michener is an excellent writer and I'm stoked to learn more about the man and his 40-book bibliography. According to Wikipedia, State House Press published James A. Michener: A Bibliography in 1996, compiled by David A. Groseclose. I'd like to read more about him and discover some of the real highlights of his literary work. 

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The Tracks

The small fictional Texas town of McGregor Falls is a railroad stop for a large company called SWR. When an SWR employee is found eviscerated in an empty boxcar, Sheriff Cotton Briggs is called out to investigate. The coroner, and eyewitnesses, present convincing arguments that the man's death may have resulted from some sort of animal attack. The most indisputable evidence is that two high school boys were on the scene during the attack. One of the kids, Travis, escaped the animal, but found himself scratched by the strange beast. 

Author Lyn Kelly swaps the narrative into different perspectives through the course of 350ish pages, ranging from the main characters like Travis and Briggs to various law-enforcement, parents, and other high school students. The plot's development, saturated with horror, violence, and mystery, incorporates the present day events with those in the past. In a gripping backstory, a group of disenchanted Vietnam War veterans form a unique train hobo club called the United Riders of America (URA). But, as details emerge, this club may have ties to the present day “animal” carnage plaguing McGregor Falls.

The Tracks is an excellent creature-feature that welds together genre tropes of crime-fiction and horror. In the forefront is the metamorphosis that Travis undergoes, from shy adolescent to Teen Wolf sports star. His relationship with two girls was a pleasant distraction, but the crime-noir aspect of the story was the most compelling. Briggs' connection to the beast was a pleasant surprise, and the details submerged in the 1970s URA group was just so rewarding as a key piece to the overall story. Aside from the book's final two pages, which wraps up decades of character history, I'm really hoping the author takes a hard look at writing a sequel. In the meantime, The Tracks is a highly recommended horror and crime-fiction thriller. 

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The Town That Saw No Evil

Harry Kantor (1924-1991) was the managing editor of men’s action-adventure magazines including Real Men and Battle Cry, and he periodically contributed to the magazines using pseudonyms (“Frankenstein: Raging Sex Monster” by Lorna Dunne). He also wrote a paperback for Major Books called The Town That Saw No Evil in 1977.

Our narrator is Sam Bledsoe, and he’s a troubleshooter for a good and honorable U.S. Senator (remember those?) who sits on the Senate Judiciary Committee, the fellows who confirm Supreme Court nominees. Bledsoe is a tragic drunk who barely earns his keep, but the time has come to justify his paycheck.

The U.S. President has just nominated Dennis Mendoza, the Dean of Harvard Law School, to the high court. The problem? The FBI background check says that Mendoza has a rap sheet from his young adulthood in Arizona - nasty stuff like rape and attempted murder. But after age 21, Mendoza seems to have had a complete reversal of character. What’s the story?

The Senator dispatches Bledsoe to Guthrie, Arizona to get some answers. Right away, the isolated town of Guthrie is filled with delicious mysteries. Airplanes and helicopters aren’t permitted near it. Roads in and out are pretty much non-existent, so you need to drive across the Mojave Desert to get there. What could this town be hiding?

Upon arriving in Guthrie, Bledsoe’s investigation reveals a background regarding the Supreme Court nominee that doesn’t reconcile at all with his current public persona. There’s definitely a conspiracy afoot to prevent Bledsoe from even making a phone call back to Washington for guidance.

The 176 pages keep turning throughout the because the reader wants to know exactly what this town is all about. The key questions reminded me of the satisfying contemporary Wayward Pines series by Blake Crouch, but Kantor’s solution is very different but no less inventive and satisfying. Kantor definitely draws from the western fiction tradition in this “stranger rides into town” tale. Halfway through the paperback, the reader understands the town’s Big Secret, and it becomes Bledsoe’s fight for his life. I would have preferred more white-knuckle action, but the test of wills among the antagonists was plenty compelling.

Major Books was an obscure paperback publisher that consistently punched above its weight throughout its 200 releases. They took chances on unknown authors with creative ideas. And while the business flopped, the creative output was consistently solid. The Town That Saw No Evil is an interesting little novel that never received a fair shake with readers and deserved better distribution. It really is a fun-reading gem and an easy recommendation. Buy a copy of this book HERE

John Adam - Samurai

British author Christopher Wood (1935-2015) is best known for his erotic novel and film series titled Confessions. James Bond fans may recall that Wood authored two film novelizations in the series, The Spy Who Loved Me (with Richard Maibaum) and Moonraker. Wood has always had a penchant to incorporate Asian settings into his novels, like Seven Nights in Japan and Taiwan. My first experience with the author is the first of two historical men's action-adventure paperbacks starring John Adam.

John Adam – Samurai (1971) is set in the year 1600 and stars John Adam, a 20-year old guy running from the law in Plymouth, England. Like a lot of these international, historical-adventure novels, Adam ends up on a ship under the flag of the East India Company. After stops in India and Java, Adam and his shipmates are overtaken by pirates and is sunk just off the coast of Japan. Adam is the only survivor.

After a few chapters that serve as an introduction to this era of Japan, Adam befriends a Samurai warrior named Kushoni. Adam learns that his ship, which was carrying muskets, was attacked by pirates that were hired by Kushoni's master. These muskets were going to be used to defend Kushoni's people from an aggressively barbaric neighboring clan. But, the pirates double-crossed Kushoni's people and now what's left of the muskets are now in the hands of the evil neighbors. You following all of this? It's really simple – Kushoni and Adam are good guys and represent good people. Everyone else can go to Hell.

The rest of the book plays out with Kushoni showing Adam a thing or two about swords. Adam also screws a lot of Japanese bath servants in graphic sex scenes while simultaneously falling in love, sort of, with a Japanese woman named Somi. But, there's a ton of action as Kushoni beheads, pierces, spears, disembowels, and savagely guts endless hordes of bad guys. There are also some torture sequences that were a little hard to...um...digest. 

Overall, this book was just bonkers, but not in a bad way. I would probably never read it again, but would consider reading the book's sequel, John Adam in Eden. It's just that Wood is such a quirky writer with some of the oddest descriptions considering this really should be a sweeping, historical novel with a little class. Instead, you have things like “quieter than a church fart” and endless religious orgies. It was just so bizarre, but like a good car wreck, I couldn't wrestle my eyes off the pages. Your mileage may vary, but this isn't a terrible way to waste a half-day. 

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Satan is a Woman/13 French Street

Stark House Press just released a reprint from Gil Brewer compiling his first two original novels — both from 1951 - Satan is a Woman and 13 French Street. The volume also features an informative introduction from David Rachels.

Satan is a Woman from 1951 was Brewer’s first original novel and the beginning of his publishing relationship with the Fawcett Gold Medal imprint. The narrator is Larry, the manager of a tavern on the coast in St. Petersburg, Florida. 

Larry’s a legit businessman, but his brother Tad is not. Tad recently killed two dudes in Tampa, and now the cops are looking for him. Tad is hiding out with Larry, and Larry is forced to lie to protect his brother — a problem he never invited. As Tad’s legal jeopardy worsens, it becomes clear that Larry needs to come up with money — a lot of it — for an attorney to save his big brother.

One afternoon a knockout blonde walks into Larry’s sleepy tavern. Her name is Joan Turner, and she’s a New Yorker who just rented a cabin next door to Larry’s bungalow. Everything about this initial interaction gives Larry the green light to make a move. Of course, you realize there must be a catch. After all, this is a Gil Brewer novel and you may have noticed the title…

Joan’s true colors come out gradually and watching Larry compromise his own ethics little by little was fascinating to read. There are some great plot twists that I won’t spoil for you here. Suffice it to say that this is a top-notch femme fatale noir story among the best Brewer had to offer.

Brewer’s second 1951 paperback, 13 French Street, was also his most popular book. The paperback sold over a million copies and sustained multiple printings from Fawcett Gold Medal in the U.S. and foreign publishers abroad. The short novel’s reputation as a sex-drenched story of lust and betrayal drew me in, and the pages just kept turning.

Our narrator is Alex Bland, and he’s on vacation visiting his old war-buddy, Verne. Upon arriving at Vern’s house at 13 French Street in a fictional southern town, he is greeted at the door by Verne’s impossibly sexy and flirtatious wife Petra, a dame who just oozes promiscuity. Although Alex has never met Petra before, they know each other from letters (paper emails) they’ve exchanged over the past five years. You see, Verne isn’t much of a letter writer, so he had his sexy wife write the letters to keep in touch with his best pal. (Note to dudes with sexy wives: Bad idea.)

Things are awkward for Alex from the moment he arrives. Verne has aged poorly and does a bad job feigning enthusiasm regarding Alex’s visit. Petra can’t help but make bedroom eyes at Alex every time their gazes lock. A pretty chambermaid confides in Alex that he’d be well-served to keep his bedroom door locked at night.

Things escalate exponentially when Verne leaves town on business, leaving Alex to his “vacation” at the house with Petra. Verne’s elderly witch of a mother lives in the house, and she keeps a close eye on Petra while her son is gone. However, that doesn’t stop Petra from trying to seduce Alex every time the old lady’s back is turned. If you enjoy your vintage paperbacks filled with sexual tension, this one is definitely for you.

Eventually, the old lady’s chaperoning becomes more and more troublesome, and you can imagine where that goes. It takes about halfway through the paperback before 13 French Street becomes a full-fledged crime noir novel where bad ideas beget further moral slippage. It’s also compelling as hell, and the pages keep flying by - making it abundantly clear why this book was such a sensation nearly 70 years ago.

To be sure, there is some retrograde treatment of women in this book that wouldn’t fly today, but 1951 was a very different world. While I still think that The Vengeful Virgin was Brewer’s top masterpiece, 13 French Street isn’t far behind. It remains a lusty noir classic with a femme fatale you won’t forget. Recommended. 

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Blood Red Sun

Stephen Mertz cut his teeth writing hard-nosed action-adventure fiction set in Don Pendleton's Mack Bolan literary universe. In the 1980s, while penning some of the very best Executioner novels, Mertz expanded the scope of his writing by elevating genre fiction into a much broader scale. That successful experiment was Blood Red Sun, a novel first published in 1989 by independent publisher Diamond Books, a company funded by The Destroyer author Warren Murphy. The book was later reprinted by Crossroad Press in 2012, and is now available in a sleek, revised new edition from Wolfpack Publishing.

Unlike many WWII military-fiction novels, Blood Red Sun is unique in its premise and timeline. The narrative takes place in September, 1945, after Japan's formal surrender to the Allied forces following the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The book's protagonist is savvy Sergeant John Ballard, a thirty-five year-old fighting man who has spent the majority of the war engaged in combat in the Pacific Theater. What's left of his unit is ultimately just two men, Tex Hanklin and Wilbur Mischkie, both of which play important roles in Ballard's next assignment – preventing the assassination of U.S. General Douglas MacArthur.

In the book, Japan's surrender leads to a fragmented state of affairs for the country's military leadership. Within the ranks of the upper echelon, conspirators exist to prevent Japan's formal surrender to MacArthur. These conspirators refuse to accept defeat and feel that Japan's Emperor, Hirohito, is doing an injustice and disservice to the proud Japanese people. The schemers, all defined as opposing forces of Hirohito, are secretly building their own alliances to counter each other. It's essentially a den of snakes that also involves a proud Japanese flying Ace named Baron Tamura. The Baron's portion of the narrative involves his niece Keiko, a twenty-four year-old woman sympathetic to the Allied force initiative. Keiko also plays a prominent role as a potential love interest for Ballard. 

As a fan of Stephen Mertz's pulpy writing style, and his masterful grip on men's action-adventure writing, I was savoring the opportunity to read Blood Red Sun. Mertz draws on his prior experiences and strengths to create the story. As a fan of his M.I.A. Hunter series, I could see some similarities. 

The characters Ballard, Hanklin, and Mischkie reminded me of M.I.A. Hunter trio of Stone, Wiley, and Loughlin. Like a great M.I.A. Hunter novel, the same type of setup presents itself here when Ballard's team enters the Japanese jungle to retrieve a military leader. They rely on a small band of Filipino guerrillas to help them with the mission. This same sort of scenario was often used as Stone's team entered Asian jungles with an assist from Laos, Cambodian, or “South Vietnamese” guerrillas. Mertz even introduces ninjas into the story, an element that M.I.A. Hunter co-writer Joe Lansdale seemed to fixate on, shown in the series' fourth installment, Mountain Massacre. Additionally, the characteristics of Tex Hanklin was similar to Stone's Texan teammate Hog Wiley. 

These similarities to other Mertz creations doesn't make Blood Red Sun unoriginal or any less enjoyable. Quite the contrary. In fact, it illustrates how Mertz is cohesive and continuous, using his strengths and experiences as a genre storyteller to broaden the narrative. In fact, this is Mertz's most ambitious novel as it incorporates a lot of fine details surrounding WWII, the political landscape of Japan and the U.S. during that era, and famous, historical figures that are featured as characters in the story. Mertz takes some liberty with these characters, but left me feeling as though what he presented in terms of command, dialogue, and behavior, was probably art imitating real life.

In terms of action-adventure, Blood Red Sun has it all. The white-knuckled scenes of Ballard storming a landing strip with all guns blazin' was ripped right out of the pages of a vibrant Men's Action-Adventure Magazine. Mertz's descriptions of walls descending in bullet-hail, prison breaks, Kamikaze dives, ninja attacks and jungle warfare are balanced well with the political, backroom brawling conducted by various Japanese and American military leaders. 

Mertz's novels like Blood Red Sun are positioned on a grander international scale like The Castro Directive (Cuba) and The Korean Intercept (Asia), but still possess the men's action-adventure tropes that make the books way more enjoyable than a bestselling Tom Clancy ghostwritten tech-thriller. Mertz's literary mojo is authentic, extremely enjoyable, and saturated with human emotion that easily conveys to his readers. Blood Red Sun is a scorching red-hot read and I highly recommend it. 

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The Fifth Grave

The legend of Jonathan Latimer’s 1941 novel The Fifth Grave is likely more famous than the book itself. Here are the facts:

In 1940, Chicago journalist and crime fiction author Jonathan Latimer (1906-1985) wrote a hardboiled novel called The Fifth Grave with lots of sex and violence. It’s about a hard-drinking private eye seeking to rescue a woman from a bizarre religious cult. Because of the era, no one cared about the boozing or considerable violence, but the sex (tame by today’s standards) made U.S. publishers nervous. As such, they declined to make the book available to American readers.

British publishers were more forward-leaning and released the novel in 1941 under the title Solomon’s Vineyard, and it became a minor literary hit. In 1950, a censored version retitled The Fifth Grave (the author’s preferred title) was released for U.S. audiences with the juicy and scandalous stuff about the narrator’s sex drive (he’s drawn to female butts) removed. When cheap paperbacks became the rage, U.K.’s Great Pan books reprinted the original version - along with other Latimer books - to the further delight of British readers. Meanwhile, the uncensored version of Solomon’s Vineyard never received a U.S. printing until 1983.

In all fairness, it’s more likely that the novel merely slipped through the cracks rather than continued censorship by shadowy puppet masters. The publishing world can, at times, have short memories and resurrecting a novel that had been a hit in England four decades earlier just wasn’t anyone’s priority. It’s fun to say that The Fifth Grave was “banned in the U.S. for 42 years,” but the truth is more benign. It wasn’t until 1983 before it occurred to a wise reprint house to release the unexpurgated original manuscript.

Several different versions of the book have been published over the years. The new edition from Black Gat Books is the definitive, uncensored version reprinted under the author’s preferred title.

The Review:

Karl Craven is The Fifth Grave’s narrator, and he’s a private detective cut from the same cloth as Dashiell Hammett’s Sam Spade or the Continental Op. Think of this generation of fictional characters as Hardboiled 1.0 before Mickey Spillane redefined the genre.

As the novel opens, Craven arrives by train into the fictional town of Paulton from his hometown of St. Louis, Missouri during the sweltering summer heat. On his way to the hotel, he notices a distant set of buildings around a temple surrounded by green fields and grapevines. He’s told that the compound belongs to a religious colony known as Solomon’s Vineyard populated by a thousand crazies awaiting the resurrection of their dead founder, an alleged prophet named Solomon.

Craven was summoned to Paulton by his business partner, Oke Johnson, who was in town working a case. When Craven arrives at Oke’s rooming house, he’s greeted by the local police advising him that his partner has been murdered. Oke was trying to recover a missing girl from the nearby religious cult, and he died without leaving behind any notes or reports. As such, Craven needs to recreate the entire investigation himself, snatch the dame, and get away safely while solving Oke’s murder in the process.

What follows is quite a journey of sex, violence, and corruption. Paulton is a town under the control of a gangster named Pug with the police serving as his toadies. There’s a possible relationship between the local mob and the cult that may provide Craven the leverage he needs to rescue the girl living at the Vineyard. The adventure finds Craven descending into a series of real binds without an obvious path to success. Also, if you like a violent fight scene, the one at the end is total aces.

I have a general bias against crime fiction of the 1940s, but The Fifth Grave is the exception. This book is awesome - even if it owes quite a bit to Dashiell Hammett’s Red Harvest. Craven is such a badass main character (he even reads Black Mask Magazine in his hotel) that I wanted to spend more time with the guy. Unfortunately, the author never developed Craven into a series character, but Latimer wrote several unrelated novels throughout his career. I look forward to exploring Latimer’s body of work more fully. The Fifth Grave is a close-to-perfect novel. Highest recommendation. 

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The Brigade

Before the words “defund the police” became a hot media slogan, author John Shirley experimented with the idea for his hard-hitting crime-fiction novel The Brigade. Those of you unfamiliar with Shirley may remember that we have reviewed his installments of the post-apocalyptic series Traveler, written under the pseudonym D.B. Drumm, and his vigilante series The Specialist, written under the name John Cutter. The Brigade was Shirley's fifth career novel, originally published in 1981 by Avon and a year later in the UK by Sphere. It exists now in ebook format.

The sleepy fictional town of Salton, Oregon, population of 42,000, lies about 40 miles east of the scenic coast. The town's chief industry is paper milling. But, the two characteristics that make this town notable is its militant “people's police” called The Brigade and an active serial killer dubbed The Saturday Night Killer. How these two defining elements interact with each other in an ultraconservative town is the main focus of Shirley's propulsive crime novel.

The town voted to defund the police, dismantle the force, and save tax dollars by introducing a volunteer group of citizens, The Brigade. The town's former police constable and mayor lead this brigade of armed citizens, but as time goes on, the group begins a radical departure from upstanding people for the people to a militant mob that seeks a police state type of tyranny for the town. Hitchhikers are brutalized, petty thieves are executed, and citizens are required to carry “hall passes” that allow them freedom on the town's streets and sidewalks. Most of this is done discreetly, in a way that doesn't seem so oppressive on the surface. 

A young guy named Tony, a janitor, and his girlfriend Sonja, stumble upon a plot formed by The Brigade to quiet the serial murders committed by this Saturday Night Killer. The murderer, responsible for 13 savage slaughters, kills an outside reporter. To cover up the death, The Brigade throw the reporter over an embankment to disguise the fact that she was knifed by the serial killer. They don't want news agencies and outsiders to question The Brigade's efficiency to keep the town safe. But, without detectives who can stop the serial killer? Tony and Sonja realize that the killer is actually a member of The Brigade.

John Shirley's 258-page paperback is quite good, but is loose around the edges due to poor editing. Tony's side-story of finding a friend becomes too convoluted for its own good, and there are some messy plot points that are presented both in the present and the past. There is also an irrelevant side-story about a guy trapped in a well. I found myself skipping some of this, but overall the story was superb and tackled a relevantly hot topic that emerged just a few years ago. How does a small town function without police? Under Shirley's watch...not very good. 

If you love crime-fiction laced with savage deaths, graphic sex, and a unique political position, then The Brigade is a must. Recommended! 

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