My first experience with the author is Brenda, a 1952 Fawcett Gold Medal paperback that Taylor wrote using the pseudonym Lehi Zane. Stark House Press imprint Black Gat reprinted the book this year.
A man named Conrad returns home after the Korean War and finds himself embroiled in a love triangle. Taylor expertly uses the pressure of these three individuals – Conrad, his uncle, and his uncle's new wife – to build an effective, heated potboiler that recalls James M. Cain. The location of this rural California farm is the perfect setting for the characters to become isolated and entrapped, each wanting physical comfort but requiring emotional blankets. It's the Southern Gothic snare that was used to great effect in the mid-20th century.
In the novel, readers learn that Conrad was raised by his uncle Boyce. Boyce's wife had died while Conrad was serving in the war. Upon Conrad's return to the family farm, he discovers that Boyce is now dating a sensuous vixen named Brenda, a woman known to love'em and leave'em. Conrad feels that Boyce, a conservative salt-of-the-Earth guy, is being taken as a fool by this seductress. However, once Boyce and Brenda get married, things quickly spiral out of control. Conrad finds himself magnetically drawn to Brenda, a feeling that puts him at odds with the lovable man who raised him. Boyce's relationship with both Brenda and Conrad becomes strained and, as the first page suggests, a criminal element is introduced.
Confessions from Death Row is a slippery slope when it comes to crime fiction. These “death house” testimonies were an influential way to hook readers from page one. Taylor uses it successfully to immediately inform readers that Boyce is in prison awaiting the death penalty. However, the carrot is purposely left dangling. Did he really kill Brenda, or is he taking the rap for someone he loves and protects? From the opening pages, readers already know there's inevitable murder, treachery, and violence to stir these up these characters and story. Whether you like that approach to storytelling or not, it does develop a morbid curiosity to see how things pan out.
Brenda is a phenomenal, convicting piece of storytelling. The chemistry, character development, storyline, and setting are superbly placed. But it is Taylor's central conflict that is the real prize here – the war on traditionalism from all of the likely sources: sex, alcohol, and money. Based on this small sample size, Taylor was a real craftsman who had a handle on this potboiler formula. It is a shame he only wrote a handful of novels and stories.
Get Brenda HERE.


















