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June had a pretty paltry rollout of crime shows, with Based on a True Story the only real standout worth watching. July is better, though still pretty thin on offerings, which makes me think the WGA strike may actually hit home a little harder and sooner than we’ve been told. I’m eager for a fair contract to be reached so we can go back to the usual glut, but in the meantime, this month does promise some starry projects, most notably the new iteration of Justified and a Soderbergh thriller to top it off. The Lincoln Lawyer (Netflix / New season premieres July 6th) Netflix’s adaptation of the Michael Connelly series has a kind of blue-sky appeal. It’s an eminently watchable crime show with a charismatic lead, Manuel Garcia-Rulfo jumping off the screen as Mickey Haller. The new season is based on Connelly’s 2011 book, The Fifth Witness, and looks promising, a nice mix of depth and glitzy L.A. noir. The Afterparty (Apple TV+/ New season premieres July 12th) I’m going to be honest with you. I didn’t make it through the first episode of the first season of this one. But I’ve been told by some that it was fairly entertaining, and it’s kind of a marvel that the show is back for a second season, so why not celebrate the fact here? It’s always fun to see a murder mystery comedy thriving. Full Circle (Max / Premieres July 13th) Steven Soderbergh directed all six episodes of this one, which is all I need to know to get my ticket punched. Claire Danes leads an impressive cast, and the writing is from frequent Soderbergh collaborator Ed Solomon. We’re looking at a family under pressure with shady links to Guyana, and some very moody lighting. Let’s do this. Justified: City Primeval (FX / Premieres July 18th) So, quite obviously, this is the most anticipated TV series of the year, and really it’s not even close, at least in these quarters. Justified, one of the greatest crime series ever made, is back: well, sort of. This time we’re in Detroit for a wild ride through the Motor City, and Graham Yost is involved in the project, but not at the helm, and most of the cast is going to be unfamiliar, but we’re talking about Olyphant as Raylen Givens here, and dammit I’m excited. It looks like we’re dealing with a slightly more noir creature here, which is not necessarily my preference when it comes to Justified, but I trust everyone around this project, and I’ve long wanted to see some of the talent involved make the trek up to Elmore Leonard’s hometown. View the full article

Birdman, the Big Tymers, Juvenile, Manny Fresh, BG, Turk, and most famously Lil Wayne—all names that jump out when New Orleans’ Cash Money Records is mentioned. Birdman (formerly “Baby”) and his brother Slim created a huge movement in the ’90s with Cash Money and, in terms of rap music, put New Orleans on the map. Founded by Jean Baptiste Le Mayne de Bienville in 1718 as La Nouvelle-Orleans and known worldwide for its French Quarter, New Orleans is a beautiful city with a rich history and a wide mix of cultures all residing and colliding in one place. As the birthplace of jazz, the city attracts millions of tourists each year for the Mardi Gras celebration and never-ending party. But New Orleans also has one of the most poverty-stricken ghettos in America. The Magnolia projects, one of the largest and poorest housing projects in New Orleans, was built in 1941. In 1955, the complex expanded and incorporated an additional six city blocks. From 1952 to 1978 under manager Cleveland Joseph Peete, the housing project was officially renamed the C. J. Peete Housing Development—but to this day it is still known as the Magnolia projects. As with other projects, conditions deteriorated during the ’80s and ’90s as the crack cocaine epidemic stormed the city and violent crime skyrocketed. Throughout the early to mid-90s, New Orleans had so many killings that some called the city the murder capital of the United States. The Magnolia projects were also where the Williams brothers, Ronald and Bryan, repped the street to the fullest. Coming up in the hood wasn’t pretty, but they made a life for themselves and their families, along with countless others, with their music label Cash Money Records. Ronald, aka “Slim,” was born May 23, 1964, and Bryan was born February 15, 1969. Their parents were Gladys Brooks and Johnnie Williams, an ex-military man and owner of multiple businesses including a bar and a laundromat in New Orleans. Johnnie’s bar, “Gladys,” became a popular hangout for hustlers, drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes, and businessmen. The family lived in a small apartment above the bar. A month after Bryan’s birth he didn’t have a first name and was simply referred to as “Baby.” The nickname stuck with him for life until he became known nationally as the hip-hop artist Birdman. In 1975, Gladys died from an illness, and Baby and his siblings spent two years living with their uncle in Prince George, British Columbia, followed by two years in foster care upon their return to New Orleans. After their father found out they were in foster care, he fought a long legal battle and got full custody of his children. The family moved into the Magnolia projects. Living quarters were cramped, which led to territorial disputes among the siblings, but Baby developed a close friendship with his stepbrother Eldrick Wise. Wise mentored Baby on street survival and moving as a hustler. The lure of the streets was too strong for the youngster. He remembered seeing the finely dressed and jeweled hustlers who frequented his family’s bar. He saw that Magnolia was poor and people didn’t have much—or nothing at all—and he wanted more. Baby adapted to his environment and hustling became second nature. “We was thugging. That’s all we knew. That’s how we come up,” Baby said in an interview on the Big Facts podcast. “The streets became my life. I chose that shit.” With drug dealing came big money, which led to hood credibility and notoriety. It got him fresh clothes and a better ride. “I wanted that,” said Terrance “Gangsta” Williams, a half brother of Baby and Slim, in an interview with VladTV. “As a youngster you see your siblings getting money, dressing fly, people respecting them, the girls calling all the time. I want that.” Baby and Eldrick started committing robberies and selling heroin at a young age before they got arrested at sixteen. At eighteen, they were arrested again for drug possession and sentenced to three years at the Elayn Hunt Correctional Center in St. Gabriel, Louisiana. After he served eighteen months of the sentence and was released, Eldrick got murdered. He would be the first of the Williams siblings who fell victim to the street. Slim was always the quiet, laid-back one, but the influence of his father, Johnnie Williams, was strong; he had a mind for business and thought constantly about how he could make money. To go with Slim’s hungry mind for business, his brother Baby had keen hustling instincts. At a young age they put in work in the pursuit of independence. This attitude had been driven into them by their father—work hard, get your shit straight, and then you can play. “I was born with the mind of a hustler. My Pa was one. Ain’t nobody taught me nothing. I ain’t had no role model in this game. I was my own role model,” said Baby Williams. As hip-hop exploded across the United States in the ’80s, different regions adopted certain elements and forms depending on the local culture—Miami had the big bass, the East Coast had breakbeats and a hard edge, the West Coast had a laid-back, funk-oriented sound. Meanwhile, in the Deep South in areas like New Orleans, a sound and style called “bounce music” captured the attention of locals of that generation. Artists like Kevin “MC T. Tucker” Ventry, DJ Jubilee, DJ Jim, Partners-N-Crime, Hot Boy Ronald, Juvenile, U.N.L.V., and Magnolia Short were among the first to make hip-hop with a unique New Orleans flavor. Bounce music is a call-and-response party style of hip-hop that involves dance callouts that are often sexual. Another name for this style of music was “P-Poppin” or “Pussy Poppin” music. A big part of bounce is shouting out or acknowledging the geographical areas, neighborhoods, and housing projects in the New Orleans area. “Bounce is really what we did anyway. We just took it and put it in another little form,” said Slim in a keynote interview at Sync Up New Orleans. “Bounce is up-tempo records. People like to dance to it. . . . And we do a lot of up-tempo records. Our style of artists that rap, they have a swing to it. What I call a ‘swing.’” They sing and they rap. That’s bounce music. We try to incorporate that all together to make great records.” At first it was more of a battle-of-the-hoods type of music that represented who was more thorough in dance, style, and fashion. P. Poppin was huge in New Orleans. Baby was already known in the city for his hustling abilities in the Magnolia projects as well as his past robbery sprees with his stepbrother Eldrick Wise, who had a reputation in the city before he was murdered. Slim was more the brains behind the scene and preferred to let his brother Baby occupy the spotlight. It was Baby’s idea to push bounce music onto the national scene. He knew they could capitalize on the sound. Master P of No Limit and Take Fo’ Records were already making money with New Orleans hip-hop. Take Fo’ promoted artists at concerts throughout the Southwest and Gulf. With only two companies putting out bounce, the Williams brothers figured there was room for them to get into this hip-hop hustle. Baby just had to find a way in. When Baby was released from prison, he surveyed the local hip-hop scene. He got with his brother Slim, and they studied what was going on and how Master P was doing what he was doing. In 1992 they pressed forward and started their own record label, Cash Money Records. Baby and Slim traveled to nightclubs all over Louisiana to find hot artists to sign. Before the internet and SoundCloud, getting new hip-hop artists noticed required legwork. It also took tens of thousands of dollars to make and market records that could be distributed to DJs and records shops. Baby claims that by the time he was twenty, he already had made a million dollars in the streets. This spawned rumors that Cash Money Records was launched with street money, which, throughout its long history, led the feds to always be sniffing around looking to topple the empire—targeting another set of Black men who had come up from the streets. Cash Money’s first artist was a local named Kilo G who released the album The Sleepwalker in 1992. With one rapper in the game, the Williams brothers continued to recruit others. They were determined to find success and make Cash Money the preeminent New Orleans hip-hop label. Baby convinced his friend, a local DJ named DJ Mannie Fresh, to become their in-house producer. By the mid-90s, Cash Money Records had become a popular independent label and had a strong fan base in New Orleans and the surrounding areas. In 1995, Cash Money artist Lil’ Slim was introduced to a then-twelve-year-old Dwayne Carter at a block party, and after hearing Dwayne rap, he was so impressed with his talent that he brought him to Baby’s attention. Dwayne ended up being signed as the youngest artist on the Cash Money label. Carter, who took the moniker “Baby D,” was then placed into a group with another young rapper, Lil Doogie, and they were known as the B.G.’z. The name B.G. or “Baby Gangsta” paid homage to Terrance “Gangsta” Williams, whose street pedigree was notorious. Even Baby decided to get behind the mic—a true hustler making money by any means necessary—and if he could be the one shining in the spotlight, all the better. He originally rapped under the name “B-32” and performed with 32 Golds. Later, violence claimed the lives of popular Cash Money artists Kilo G, Pimp Daddy, and Yella Boi. It was a setback for the label but didn’t stem its success. In 1997, Baby D and Lil Doogie renamed themselves “Lil Wayne” and “B.G.,” respectively, and that same year Cash Money signed two other new artists, Turk and Juvenile. The four young rappers were called the “Hot Boys,” a name they took from a Magnolia projects street crew that Terrance “Gangsta” Williams was involved with. This new bounce supergroup took Cash Money Records to a new level. The young Hot Boys released group and solo albums that all went platinum and multiplatinum and contained hit after hit. The phrase “bling-bling” popularized in their songs even made it into the national rap lexicon as well as Webster’s Dictionary. In the early days, the Hot Boys’ raggedy tour bus became an avenue for making drug connects. Terrance “Gangsta” Williams sometimes traveled with the group so he could buy and sell heroin at hotels along the tour route. While the Hot Boys performed for growing crowds, Gangsta moved massive amounts of heroin amounting to $30,000 per stop. When older brother Slim objected, Gangsta gave him $10,000 to keep quiet and another $100,000 to hold for future buys. Slim ended up spending this money on tour expenses, which led to rumors that Gangsta was investing drug money in Cash Money Records—a claim he denied. When he was later arrested for plotting a murder and engaging in a continuing criminal enterprise, the feds offered Gangsta a three-year sentence to snitch on Cash Money Records and the Williams brothers. He kept his mouth shut and received a life sentence plus twenty years. Keeping it gangsta like a real G. Gangsta had avoided getting involved in his brothers’ hip-hop hustle because there was no fast money in it. He had seen them put in lots of hours to book shows, distribute product all over the South, and market their artists—only to have little to show for it. As he was locked up for his drug game, Cash Money Records signed a $30 million deal with Universal Records in 1998. Gangsta regretted nothing as his brothers supported him and his children financially while he was incarcerated. They would even call him up while on tour and let him use his prison phone time to talk to celebrities they were partying with. “My time went by with ease,” recalled Terrance, though it wasn’t without hiccups. When Slim and Baby found out he was dealing drugs behind bars, they cut him off for six months. With the feds looking for any way to bust Cash Money Records, there could be no perception that the label was funding a drug enterprise. They had to avoid anything illegal. After the Universal deal, Cash Money Records had a highly profitable run from 1997 all the way to 2019. They reinvented themselves and the game and had hit after hit. As artists on their label came and went, Cash Money Records still shined. After the release of the popular album Birdman, Baby took the “Birdman” moniker and stayed on top with solo albums, new groups, and remixes. He was a mogul who also rapped and performed. Every hip-hop artist across the country and around the world wanted to collaborate with Cash Money, which led the roster to expand and include not only rappers but singers who ranged from Lil’ Mo to superstar Teena Marie. Cash Money Records also moved into films and books with Cash Money Films and Cash Money Content. Of all Cash Money artists, Lil Wayne was the breakout star. He performed at the Grammys and took home a few awards himself. Wayne also performed at the Super Bowl and routinely appeared on top hip-hop artist lists as one of the best spitters in the game. As an entrepreneur, he became president of Cash Money Records before branching off with his own label, Young Money Entertainment, which introduced the world to future stars Drake and Nicki Minaj. Terrance “Gangsta” Williams was released in 2022 after serving twenty-three years of his life-plus-twenty sentence when he cooperated with the feds, giving them information on some unsolved murders. This snitching alienated Gangsta from his namesake B.G. and sibling Birdman. When Birdman put up money for Gangsta’s legal defense, he had set down rules. His stepbrother violated those rules, and the streets don’t tolerate snitches. That sentiment pervaded the New Orleans hip-hop community. The feds never did pin an indictment on Baby and Slim. Unlike a lot of the hustlers who reached for the fame and the glory of thug life, Birdman left it behind. He stayed focused and achieved great success in the music industry. And in doing so he remains one of the few street legends to move into legitimate business and not end up incarcerated or killed. __________________ Adapted from THUG LIFE: THE TRUE STORY OF HIP-HOP AND ORGANIZED CRIME by Seth Ferranti. Copyright ©2023 by Seth Ferranti. Reprinted by permission of the publisher, HAMILCAR PRODUCTIONS. All rights reserved. View the full article

CrimeReads has been accused of a bias toward noir in the past, and we’re sorry (not sorry) to report that this year’s best of the year so far list is noir AF—the world is, after all, getting darker, and cynical take-downs are often less depressing to read than fantasies of happiness (for those of us who don’t believe in happy endings, anyway). Noir is a cornerstone when it comes to fictional critiques of social mores and growing inequality, and the books below serve as either sendoffs of the corrupt and privileged, or as folk-hero tales of those who fight the system. You’ll see plenty of household names at the top of their game, plus rising new voices who will hopefully continue to write crime for quite some time. You’ll also see plenty of humor, alongside the suffering, because gallows jokes are what get many of us through the day, and humor is likely to exist alongside happiness and misery in equal measure. Below the 10 titles we picked as the best of the year, you’ll find a host of notable selections showcasing an extraordinary year of excellent mysteries. Ivy Pochoda, Sing Her Down (MCD) Pochoda’s neo-western thriller makes for a wild, revelatory ride, one that’s rich with complex characters and an acerbic social critique that won’t soon be forgotten. Two women, brought together in an Arizona jail, earn an unexpected freedom, only to find their fates wrapped up together, thanks largely to the force of one’s obsession. The story moves from burnt-out desert to the beat-down streets of Los Angeles, all the while preserving an almost unbearable tension and charged atmosphere worthy of the best in the western tradition. Readers move along waiting for that final stand-off, but Pochoda is doing something larger in the background, painting a vivid, incisive portrait of our modern corruption. –Dwyer Murphy, CrimeReads editor-in-chief Deepti Kapoor, Age of Vice (Riverhead) What an epic read. Deepti Kapoor’s Age of Vice is a vast take-down of the corruption of the wealthy, told from three main perspectives: a reluctant scion of an infamous family, a loyal manservant who cannot forget what he has witnessed, and a curious (but possibly corruptible) journalist. Kapoor’s genius is not only in her characterization, but also the carefulness of her plotting, setting up the convergence of characters and the real-life consequences of their moral choices with perfect interior logic and pacing. We need more stories about money, the having of it and the absence, as the world becomes increasingly economically stratified—we are in a new Gilded Age (perhaps, as Deepti Kapoor titles it, an Age of Vice) and Kapoor is an exemplary voice in exploring the woes of capitalism. –Molly Odintz, CrimeReads senior editor Brendan Slocumb, Symphony of Secrets (Anchor Books) Slocumb’s follow-up to last year’s breakout debut, The Violin Conspiracy, is another heady investigation into art, history, and inspiration. In Symphony of Secrets, readers are brought along for an inter-generational mystery that moves across eras and art forms and leaves behind a beautiful, heart-breaking kind of ambiguity. A scholar is approached about authenticating a legendary piece of music, perhaps a lost masterpiece. But the job soon begins to unravel as signs point to another source that complicates the work’s attribution. Slocumb takes us through the world of music and scholarship with an expert’s assured hand, all the while building out a larger conspiracy that hints at something much darker, pushing us through to the shocking conclusion. The result is a highly rewarding and refined thriller, with plenty of heart. –DM Jordan Harper, Everybody Knows (Mulholland) In this devastating L.A. noir, Harper follows a publicist/fixer who finally has enough of covering up the heinous actions of her clients and decides to go after the powerful, shadowy forces who killed her boss. First she has to find out what her boss was hiding, and it’s a secret that goes all the way to the top. Jordan Harper’s Everybody Knows feels like a #metoo Chinatown if it was written by Chandler. The book started out as a screenplay, and I’m hoping we get to see the movie soon (although, of course, not until the WGA strike is over). –MO Rafael Frumkin, Confidence (Simon & Schuster) Not since Geek Love have I seen such an effective skewering of the search for inner peace and the inevitable American wish for shortcuts. Rafael Frumkin’s Confidence tells the story of two boys who meet in juvenile detention and find a shared love for scamming (and for each other). As their intense relationship develops, their scams get bigger and bigger, culminating in a Theranos-like (as Electric Lit called it) scheme to provide “instant enlightenment” to their customers via cleverly repackaged and completely ineffective technology. Both a beautiful queer love story and a hilarious and cutting sendoff of the American Dream. In the history book The King of Confidence, Miles Harvey posits that the quintessential American folk hero of the 19th century was the grifter, seen as one who rebels against a system stacked against them, and Frumkin’s novel proves that statement just as worthy a descriptor of the 21st century: either you’re a scammer, or you’ve been scammed. –MO Megan Abbott, Beware the Woman (Putnam) Beware the Woman is a stylish, sensual thriller that unfolds like a fever dream, with Abbott’s uncanny talents on display like never before. From the first page, we’re launched into a rich feeling of claustrophobia, even as the wilderness expands around us. A pregnant woman accompanies her new husband on a visit to his father’s remote house in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. A creeping sense of dread warns her that all is not right here, and she soon finds herself in an increasingly vulnerable situation. Abbott handles every new suspicion and revelation with a craftsman’s care, but what really elevates this novel is the pitch-perfect atmosphere, crafted with an immediacy and a physicality that make the reading at once disorienting and utterly thrilling. –DM S. A. Cosby, All the Sinners Bleed (Flatiron) S.A. Cosby does Thomas Harris!! And proves that the serial killer novel is back with his cleverly plotted and socially relevant take on the hunt for a monstrous killer. Cosby goes Southern Gothic with the backstory, focusing on the sins of society and how indifference and prejudice are the true culprits behind the most terrible acts. In true Cosby fashion, the novel manages to touch on all manner of hot button topics. The novel begins with a school shooting, where a white police officer kills the shooter: a Black man who was a former student at the school, and who claims his victim, a popular teacher, was hiding a terrible secret. When the town sheriff, the first Black man elected to the post in the small Southern town, begins to investigate the teacher’s horrific acts, the townspeople are deeply resistant to the truth, and meanwhile, he’s got a showdown coming between right-wingers determined to protect a Confederate monument and the protestors who want it gone. A fast-paced book that will also have you asking deep questions about the nature of faith, All the Sinners Bleed is bound to be one of my favorite books of the year. –MO Rebecca Makkai, I Have Some Questions For You (Viking) Makkai’s powerhouse novel has all the draw and momentum of the wildly entertaining mystery that it is, but lurking behind the plot is a series of escalating existential questions about trauma, memory, and the ever-shifting terrain of the past. Bodie Kane, a producer and podcaster, is tempted back to her old high school in New Hampshire, where she soon finds herself drawn into the uncertainties surrounding the investigation into her former roommate’s murder. Makkai brings to the story a vertiginous sensation of falling again and again into new doubts and desires, one that brings to mind Hitchcock at his best and forces the reader constantly to double back and wonder where the story has taken them, really. I Have Some Questions For You is a smart, sophisticated mystery, crafted with verve. –DM Tania Malik, Hope You Are Satisfied (Unnamed Press) It’s 1990. The invasion of Kuwait sets off the first Gulf War, and in between waiting for the SCUD missiles and the Americans, the employees of a small travel agency promising luxury Saudi Arabian vacations spend their time bickering, sleeping together, and partying in clubs off-limits to the local citizens. Riya is worried about her sister and in need of some extra cash, and the urge to help her best friend with an expensive issue is the final push she needs to accept a dangerous gig from a shady character. Playful, cynical, and one of the best “Man Who Knew Too Much”-style spy thrillers I’ve ever read.–MO Eli Cranor, Ozark Dogs (Soho) Cranor’s sophomore novel is an absolutely relentless, hair-raising thriller that manages to be just as full of emotion as it is adrenaline. In a small-town in Arkansas, a young woman is kidnapped the night of the homecoming game, launching her grandfather into a mad search for the one good thing in his life and maybe the possibility of some redemption. But this is a dark, tough story and nobody gets out unscathed. Cranor has staked himself a claim as one of the premier noir writers coming up today, but with Ozark Dogs, it’s the family feeling—that ache of love, obligation, and lineage—that really draws us into the story and drives us toward the fateful end. This is Southern Noir at its finest, and Cranor is an author on a rapid rise. –DM ___________________________________ Notable Selections 2023 ___________________________________ Eleanor Catton, Birnam Wood (FSG) · Chloe Mehdi, Nothing Is Lost (Europa) · Eliza Clark, Boy Parts (Harper) · C.J. Leede, Maeve Fly (Tor Nightfire) · Rose Wilding, Speak of the Devil (Minotaur) · Adorah Nworah, House Woman (Unnamed Press) · Mirza Waheed, Tell Her Everything (Melville House) · Katie Williams, My Murder (Riverhead) · Bali Kaur Jaswal, Now You See Us (William Morrow) · Tara Ison, At the Hour Between Dog and Wolf (Ig Publishing) · Juan Martinez, Extended Stay (University of Arizona Press) · Chris Offutt, Code of the Hills (Grove Press) · Paul Goldberg, The Dissident (FSG) · Parini Shroff, The Bandit Queens (Ballantine) · Michael Bennett, Better the Blood (Atlantic Monthly Press) · Bret Easton Ellis, The Shards (Knopf) · Christoffer Carlsson (transl. Rachel Willson-Broyles), Blaze Me a Sun (Hogarth) · Stephen Graham Jones, Don’t Fear the Reaper (Saga) · Hank Phillippi Ryan, The House Guest (Forge) · Rachel Cochran, The Gulf (Harper) · Rachel Koller Croft, Stone Cold Fox (Berkley) · Thomas Mallon, Up With the Sun (Knopf) · Walter Mosley, Every Man a King (Mulholland) · Paz Pardo, The Shamshine Blind (Atria) · Peter Swanson, The Kind Worth Saving (William Morrow) · Joyce Carol Oates, 48 Clues into the Disappearance of My Sister (Mysterious Press) · Christopher Bollen, The Lost Americans (Harper) · James A. McLaughlin, Panther Gap (Flatiron) · V. Castro, The Haunting of Alejandra (Del Rey) · Dennis Lehane, Small Mercies (Harper) · Alice Slater, Death of a Bookseller (Scarlet) · Don Winslow, City of Dreams (William Morrow) · Adam Sternbergh, The Eden Test (Flatiron) · Molly Odintz, Scott Montgomery, Hopeton Hay eds, Austin Noir (Akashic Books) · Polly Stewart, The Good Ones (Harper) · Nisha Bose, Dirty Laundry (Ballantine) · Kwei Quartey, Last Seen in Lapaz (Soho) · Margot Douaihy, Scorched Grace (Zando, Gillian Flynn Books) · Samantha Jayne Allen, Hard Rain (Minotaur) · Daniel Weizmann, The Last Songbird (Melville House) · Clémence Michallon, The Quiet Tenant (Knopf) · Danielle Trussoni, The Puzzle Master (Random House) · Josh Haven, The Siberia Job (Mysterious Press) · Cara Black, Night Flight to Paris (Soho) · Gigi Pandian, The Raven Thief (Minotaur) · Jinwoo Chong, Flux (Melville House) · Elle Cosimano, Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Minotaur) · Jesse Q. Sutanto, Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers (Berkley) · Sarah Penner, The London Seance Society (Park Row) · Bejamin Stevenson, Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone (Mariner) · Azma Dar, Spider (Datura) · Wendy Heard, You Can Trust Me (Bantam) · Nick Medina, Sisters of a Lost Nation (Berkley) View the full article

Beginning in the 1990s, when he was 19 or so, Stéphane Breitwieser stole hundreds of artworks and antiquities from dozens of small museums, churches, castles and art shows in seven European countries. It’s a résumé that makes the 51-year-old Frenchman “perhaps the most successful and prolific art thief who has ever lived,” Michael Finkel writes in The Art Thief: A True Story of Love, Crime, and a Dangerous Obsession. With then-girlfriend Anne-Catherine Kleinklaus often serving as his “lookout”—she’d be ready to cough if a security guard approached while Breitwieser was, say, slipping a knight’s helmet into his backpack—“he averaged a theft every twelve days for seven years,” Finkel writes. The combined value of this loot is a reported $1 billion, almost all of it lifted from exhibits with minimal security. A self-taught art aficionado, Breitwieser didn’t try to sell the artworks. Instead, he kept them in an attic bedroom at his mother’s place, where he shot home movies showing his haul. Breitwieser, arrested more than once, confessed to most of his crimes, and after serving relatively short sentences, he’s out of prison. Lest anyone think Finkel lionizes his subject, it’s worth noting that his book characterizes him as “a cancer” attacking the very idea on which museums are based—that art should be “accessible to all.” What happened to all the stuff he stole? It’s another wild tale, and though it’s now a matter of public record, I won’t spoil the ending here. Finkel’s book arrives in stores 11 years after he first tried to land an interview with Breitwieser. The author—Jonah Hill played him in True Story, a film based on Finkel’s book of the same title—answered a few of my questions this month. Kevin Canfield: You lived in France for a while, where Breitwieser did a lot of stealing. How did you first learn of his crimes? Michael Finkel: I heard about Stéphane Breitwieser through French media, and there were three things that sparked my journalistic interest: The amount of museums and churches from which Breitwieser stole; the fact that he did it nonviolently, which sort of allows you to like the antihero; and I loved that he stole—at least it seemed from the outside—out of passion for art. What a great hook. A French journalist friend of mine told me that this guy doesn’t speak to the media. I was like, Oh, game on! I have no real secrets about how to get someone to speak to me except for one, which is that I really like writing handwritten letters to people. I don’t really like to give that secret away because it’s so dang simple. But I think in this day and age, when everybody texts and sends email, to send a letter—and then just have patience—can work. You’ve got patience. You initiated contact with him 11 years ago. I didn’t even know this guy’s address, and I don’t like to creep people out even if I probably could have found his home address. I sent him a polite letter, written in French, through his publishing company (Breitwieser has published a memoir in France). It ended up taking months before he responded. How did you then persuade him to agree to a bunch of interviews? When I ask to interview someone, I feel like I give them a lot of power. I tell them pretty early in the process that if you don’t want to speak with me, I’m not going to write about you. I don’t have that skill set where I can report around something. I believe that John Carreyrou, the author of Bad Blood, a great nonfiction book about Theranos, did not get to speak to many of the principal characters, and did an amazing job of reporting around that. That’s not my skill set. I need to go right to the source. I really love to see what the person says, and then do tons of extra reporting. It makes everything richer. He doesn’t really consider himself a thief. He’s someone whose tastes are on a higher level, and he’s a caretaker of these artworks—isn’t that how he sees it? I think that’s a great way to read it. He’s not crazy. He knows that he’s stolen from museums and deserves to be punished. But truly, I think, right down to Stéphane Breitwieser’s core, he does not think of himself as a thief. An art thief is like the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, where (in 1990) thieves stuck a knife in a canvas to steal it. They don’t give a shit about art, they just want to exchange it for money. I guess I’m a true crime writer. I wrote about a murderer (True Story). I wrote about a hermit who broke into many places (The Stranger in the Woods). And I like to hear people’s explanations and excuses for their crimes. Breitwieser truly felt that the art world is so full of shady characters that he convinced himself that he just had his own unusual acquisition style. What was his first theft? I think we can probably put the first museum theft when he worked as a guard when he was about 19—he celebrated his last day on the job by taking a 1,500-year-old belt buckle. The thing about his crimes is that he never felt guilt, he really never apologized in the 40-plus hours we spent together. He had all these excuses that seemed bullshitty to me and you—you know, most museums have storerooms filled with objects they don’t display, and he was really in his head thinking this belt buckle means nothing to 97 percent of the people who see it. And then he falls in love with a woman named Anne-Catherine Kleinklaus. You saw home videos and CCTV footage that make it clear that she was deeply involved. One is a home movie of Breitwieser and Kleinklaus sitting in his attic and admiring all of these stolen items. I totally understand that she didn’t want to speak with me. I tried my hardest, but I know it would’ve been a very weird situation for her to talk to a journalist, because she basically got away with it. The home videos were so fascinating, to see this woman who was a participant in a huge crime spree and then portrayed herself as a victim, which was a great move. How did they work together? Artworks might be taken out in a backpack or her purse, they could be hidden in his clothes. Maybe it was an extraordinarily fortuitous coupling. It’s that French expression – sangfroid, or cold blooded. I think the two of them were just able to do illegal things with a face of complete innocence. Her role, as Breitwieser repeatedly told me in our interviews, was greater than ever advertised. She was an essential part. They were really a team. And a lot of times, it was simple as she’d stand in the threshold of a gallery and cough if someone approached while he was taking a knife to the silicone glue on a picture frame. You coined a phrase to describe this. The silicone slice. His whole theory of crime goes so counter to movies and television. Eating in a museum restaurant, going on a guided tour—this idea that a thief would never do these things, he believes, is precisely what a thief should do. You can’t deny his physicality, his magician-ship, how he could pull off something under someone’s nose. And he truly loved the items that he stole. That he actually loves the art he steals prolongs his career as a thief. If he chose to sell stuff, he’d expose himself to more risk. The reason why museums get robbed is that the thieves aren’t thinking two steps ahead, they’re only thinking one step ahead: I can grab this thing that’s worth a million dollars. And then once you have it, what the hell do you do with it? You try and monetize it—that’s where you get caught. He’s smart enough to have known that. But his love of art can’t have been the only reason for all of this, can it? One of the things that Breitwieser kept insisting to me in the first couple of rounds of interviews was that it was not the thefts that thrilled him—that it was the treasure at the end of the theft. I disagree with that. He got some pleasure in pulling the wool over people’s eyes and subverting authority. Maybe the most important point here is that, as you point out several times, there’s very little security at small museums. Even amazing museums aren’t that well secured. And especially low-budget museums. There’s never that moment where the people running the museum are like, You know what, we should devote next year’s budget to better electric eyes for security and not buy any art. That’ll really make us money. And the whole point of a museum is to allow you to commune with art. I was very moved by the way curators spoke to me about this. As inelegant and imperfect as it may be, they really want you to feel as close to a painting as you can. You begin one of your chapters by asking the question that underlies everything: “What is his problem?” So what’s the answer? The answer I can give you without any psychological hat on is that he just fucking thinks the rules don’t apply to him! But just because you can get away with something doesn’t mean you should. We could all shoplift shit from the supermarket and get away with it, but we don’t because there has to be some way for society to function. View the full article

Parents. We all have them, one way or the other. Biological, step, foster, surrogate. Estranged. Long-distance. And now—through the magic of online DNA testing—parents you never even knew about. No matter what, we can all agree that our parents shape our lives. Through what we inherit or the environment they create. Through their presence or their absence. Parents may give us a lot to live up to—or a lot to live down. We may strive to be just like them. Or do everything in our power to be different. Most of my books have dealt with families—in one way or another. And a lot of great crime and mystery fiction have families at the center. Why are families such rich subject matter for these stories? Because families are full of conflict. Even the best families have conflict. There is no way to live in such close proximity to people—physically or emotionally—and not be in conflict with them. If you’re lucky the conflict is small. (“Why do I have to ride in the back seat?” “Why does she get the larger bedroom?”) But in crime fiction, family conflict covers a lot of things. Money. Secrets. Murder. In my newest novel, Try Not to Breathe, two half-sisters try to reckon with the legacy of their father, a police officer who has been wounded in the line of duty and forced to retire. I won’t say more about what the two sisters learn about their dad—and their family. I wouldn’t want to spoil anything. But it’s possible that after you read my book, you might feel better about your own family. Let’s hope so… Here’s a list of other books about domineering parents. Enjoy! WINTER KILLS by Richard Condon I’ve always thought Condon was the master of the paranoid-satirical thriller about the underside of American political life. But is his real subject the domineering parent? We all know about the mother in The Manchurian Candidate, chillingly played by Angela Lansbury in the movie version. But what about the unrelenting control exerted on the lives of the characters by the Prizzi family in that series of novels? Or, worst of all, the Joseph Kennedy-esque father in Condon’s assassination thriller, Winter Kills. RAZORBLADE TEARS by SA Cosby There isn’t much I can add to the phenomenon that is SA Cosby, one of the most (justifiably) acclaimed crime writers of our time. And his star is still very much on the rise. But I mention Razorblade Tears here because this is a story about the redemption of two deeply flawed fathers. Not only is this book beautifully written and loaded with action and suspense, it also shows the lengths a parent can go to demonstrate their love for their child. Love lasts forever and its reach extends beyond the grave. Don’t miss it. DOLORES CLAIBORNE by Stephen King It hardly seems possible for a book written by the world’s bestselling writer to be overlooked, but among all the great works the King has written, this one—Dolores Claiborne—is one I came to late. King has also addressed the issue of domineering and awful parents. Heck, he did it in his very first book, Carrie. But in Dolores Claiborne he takes on the issues of domestic abuse in the most intense way. This book is violent and disturbing—you did see who wrote it, right?—but it’s also an exploration of familial love and how far a parent is willing to go to protect their children. (And the movie version is great as well.) A THOUSAND ACRES by Jane Smiley It’s possible you tried your darnedest to avoid reading King Lear in high school or college. Or you opted for the Cliff’s Notes or the Wikipedia summary. But don’t fall asleep on Smiley’s Pulitzer-prize winning retelling, which features everything from the original play and then some. Abuse, poisoning, murder, blinding—and all of it set on a farm in Iowa instead of a crumbling kingdom in England. It’s a literary novel, yes, but with action and pages that fly by like a thriller. And it features a father who really, really shouldn’t get any gifts on Father’s Day. SAVING RUBY KING by Catherine Adel West On the surface, this book has the trappings of a typical thriller. There’s a murder, and the clues relating to the crime stretch across the years. But this book contains so much more. This is a novel about family and friendship. It’s an exploration of the power of a community that endures against all odds. It’s also a rarity in that the book places a church—Cavalry Hope Christian Church—at the center of the story and shows all the complexities of a religious institution that stands at the middle of the lives of the characters. Given all the book’s accomplishments, I’ll also point out that this is a debut, which means West has many more great books to come. *** View the full article

First, a confession: I am a chicken. Not just a chicken, but the chickenest chicken that ever chickened. A constant jump scare waiting to happen. The character frozen in place in the movie, unable to save herself. Jurassic Park gave me nightmares for years. I didn’t venture anywhere near a Stephen King book until my mid-thirties. And don’t even ask me about the time I accidentally walked in on someone watching Alien. When I tell you I am the last person you’d expect to write horror novels, I mean it in the strongest possible terms. So when I finished my third novel manuscript and sent it off to my agent with the note “What genre is this?” the email I got back made me chortle: “Young Adult Horror!” Horror? Ha! I, Miss Scaredy-Pants, was writing horror? I called my best friend (who also chortled)—and then I paused. Because it was true that I wrote about things that horrified me. It was true that I didn’t shy away from true crime or thrillers, even when they skewed darkly toward horror. It was true that my stories had monstrous villains. And it was true that this particular book was based on a European ghost story. My agent was right, I realized. I’d accidentally written a horror story. It had every hallmark: the questions about what was and wasn’t real, the creepy, unnatural child, the forest that just might swallow you up. And for me that begged a question: could I intentionally write one? If this book was horror, was horror something I was naturally drawn to? And—just perhaps—if I stopped trying to avoid the genre, would I find something there that spoke to my soul? As that first horror manuscript made its way to editor inboxes, I took up the challenge in those questions, plotting the novel that would become my YA debut: The Wicked Unseen. First, I cobbled together the story itself. The backdrop: the U.S. Satanic Panic—a time of extreme fear (and extreme ridiculousness). The plot: the disappearance of the preacher’s daughter (who happens to be the main character’s crush). The main character: an opinionated, queer tribute to Wednesday Addams. Then—being a history buff and being too scared to read any horror novels just yet—I got into the history of the genre. I read about common tropes and genre luminaries. I read Tippi Hedren’s memoir and then dug deeper into the dark, abusive figure that was Hitchcock. I traced the particular patterns of American fears through eras of filmmaking. Satanists. Poverty. The occult. Death. Death. Always death. As I read about horror, my own fear of it grew smaller. As I began to understand the scope of the genre, I realized it had been a narrow sliver of a vast pool of work that had me convinced it wasn’t for me. Like shadows in the corners, my fear of horror couldn’t survive the light of my direct attention. While I wrote, I kept digging into the real-world context around the horrors I was writing about. What was it like to be a mortician, and how might they see death differently than the rest of us? How do you train a cadaver dog? Are bats really dangerous? What are the histories of Ouija and séances, and did they always scare us? (Spoiler: they did not.) Finally, peeking through my fingers, ready with my other hand hovering above the pause button, I watched horror movies and read horror novels. I relied on true horror aficionados (like Sami Ellis, whose debut, Dead Girls Walking, comes out in 2024) to point me in the right direction. I needed to ease in. Horror, but for chickens, please and thank you. I found that I still couldn’t stomach heavy gore, and over-the-top monster stories like Alien aren’t for me. But I also found horror that was very much for me. Freaky, with its perfect comedic timing and refusal to kill off the marginalized characters. Bad Witch Burning’s deep dive into depression. The horror of something we’ve culturally normalized in When No One Is Watching. Ready or Not’s commentary on wealth. And in all of those stories, a singular pattern: triumphant endings. These were not torture porn, gore without purpose, fear without resolution. They were hard-won victories against insurmountable odds. I’d been thinking of horror (thanks to those childhood scares and a few bad examples) as a genre of despair. But what I found when I slipped outside my own fear—especially in horror by marginalized creators—was hope. These were stories about people who truly did have the odds stacked against them, who faced down real societal monsters—misogyny, poverty, anti-Blackness, queerphobia—and who survived. Won. Even thrived, perhaps, after the credits rolled. The horror that I hadn’t been drawn to fell into two categories and was primarily penned by white men. There was the trumped-up horror there for the shock effect (what if giant worms jumped out of the ground and ate you?!) and, worse, the horror where the marginalized people were the danger (go count how many horror villains are queer-coded—I’ll wait). What I hadn’t realized as I wrote that first horror manuscript is that I was participating in a long tradition of marginalized authors using the genre in a different way. Instead of the terror of a giant spider or a murderous demon, we ask you to consider the terror of a woman fleeing a violent man (The Invisible Man), desperate people exploited by the rich (Hide by Kiersten White), Black people tokenized and pitted against each other by a white capitalist power structure (The Other Black Girl by Zakiya Dalila Harris). Instead of the long tradition of protagonists who set their own doom in motion by opening Pandora’s box, pushing past the keep-out sign, or (gasp!) being a woman who has sex outside of marriage, we ask you to join an innocent as they face down the demons society created. When I finished writing The Wicked Unseen and sent it to my agent, this time I called it what it was: Young Adult Horror. I didn’t have to ask about the genre because I’d been immersed in it, intentional about it. I’d found myself in it and found that not only this book, but so many of the ideas queuing up inside my mind, fit perfectly here. In this space where authors before me have made way for triumphant horror, feminist horror, horror that asks us to consider if the things that should scare us most are the ones already here. Now years into this journey, there is still some horror that my chicken brain cannot handle. Jump scares still do me in. Gore can trigger some very unpleasant obsessive thoughts. And if you recommend me a book or show with cannibalism in it, I will make a voodoo doll of you and stick it full of pins. But in a certain type of horror, I found something unexpected. Something I now love. Something that reflects back a part of my own soul. A clear thread that whispers: You can survive, even the worst things. You can fight. You can win. You, the queer, mentally ill disabled girl. You, the one with the odds stacked against her. I hope that in The Wicked Unseen, other readers find those truths too. *** View the full article

Excerpted From “Mystery Meat: A Dan Shamble, Zombie P.I. Adventure” by Kevin J. Anderson: The giant fly was frantic as she buzzed into the offices of Chambeaux & Deyer Investigations. Her long translucent wings vibrated like stained-glass windows made of Saran wrap. She clutched her top two sets of articulated arms in dismay. “My maggots are missing!” she wailed, then accepted a tissue from Sheyenne, our receptionist (and my ghost girlfriend), so she could dab away tears from her multifaceted eyes. I shambled into the front office when I heard the loud buzzing sound, and I could immediately see that this human-sized insect needed our help. As a zombie detective, I’m ready to solve even the oddest cases featuring unnaturals. The mother fly buzzed back and forth, bouncing off the window in desperation, then coming back to where Sheyenne and I could soothe her. “Take a breath, ma’am, so we can figure out how to assist you.” I extended my pallid hand, then pulled it back, not really wanting to be grasped by those clenching claws. “My babies!” With great effort, the large fly forced her wings to settle down. Her proboscis uncurled, then curled like a New Year’s Eve party favor as she took a deep breath. “The whole brood! They’re all I’ve got. I need to engage your services, Mr. Chambeaux. You’re the best there is in the Unnatural Quarter.” After all the years since the Big Uneasy, I guess my reputation preceded me. “So, it’s a missing persons case, then?” I said. “Missing maggots,” Mama Fly corrected. I almost made a wisecrack about needing to call out the SWAT team, but that was in poor taste. The big insect’s name was Mama Fly, because apparently flies are so common and have such small brains that any one name will do the trick. At least it was easier to spell than some of our Lovecraftian clients, like Maug-Shugguleth. Robin Deyer, my passionate human lawyer partner, emerged from her office ready to offer advice. As usual, this case was going to be a team effort. After we calmed her down, Mama Fly managed to offer explanations. “I need a private investigator, and I need a fly spotter.” She still looked as if she might hurl herself against the already-flyspecked window, so I eased myself back toward it and opened the glass, just in case. Sheyenne prepared a New Client intake form to jot down details, while I was eager to gauge the severity of the threat. “Tell us what happened to your maggots,” Robin said. “How many of them? And what did they look like?” Here in the Quarter, we were used to monsters, demons, mutations, ghosts, and mythical beasties of all kinds. More than a dozen years ago, a cosmic event called the Big Uneasy had shifted the world, rewritten the natural laws of science, magic, and superstition, and brought all the myths and legends to life. After the initial uproar, they came together to live in the Unnatural Quarter. I’d been a down-and-out human P.I. who set up his shingle here, because monsters got divorces too, had property disputes…went missing. With a ghost or goblin on every street corner, you wouldn’t think I’d let my guard down, but someone shot me in a dark alley. Fortunately, I came back as a zombie and got back to work. There were new cases every week to keep me, Robin, and Sheyenne busy. Still, I’d never had to search for missing maggots before. “My babies wriggled off to the playground, just like always,” said Mama Fly. Her proboscis uncurled and curled again. “And they never came home! I’ve talked to other flies in the neighborhood, and they’re buzzing with gossip. At least two other maggots disappeared at the same time.” “And when did they disappear?” I asked. “This morning—hours ago! But a mother knows when something is wrong. We need to search the entire Quarter. Find them! You have to hurry—it’s urgent.” Robin and Sheyenne determinedly took notes. “I understand your worry, Mama Fly,” I said, “but there’s no immediate reason to suspect they’re in danger. We have time.” “No we don’t!” The fly’s wings fluttered again. “Our lifecycle is only a few weeks, and they need to pupate! Oh, my babies!” Now we understood her extraordinary urgency. After we took down the pertinent information, Mama Fly buzzed off. * Excerpted from “Nick Carter: Recalled to Life” by David Avallone: Nick Carter regarded the ring of ugly metal muzzles pointed at him and wondered, not for the first time, if he could be killed. Or more to the point, he thought, would I stay dead? The Shpagin, which he had always thought of as the ugly step-brother of the Thompson, was not a particularly accurate weapon, but the six men holding them were only two yards away at most. The clumsiest, most poorly trained marksman couldn’t miss. The Shpagin is a garden hose for bullets. It had been a few months since Nick, like old Professor Manette, was “recalled to life.” A busy few months. Acclimating. Learning the lay of the land. Adapting old skills to a new world. A new world he was relieved to find still had a use for him. While he’d slumbered in suspended animation, evil hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it had become more ambitious. Global. Plenty to occupy a man like himself, in this new world. Since his return, so far, he had been in a couple of tight spots, but this was shaping up as the tightest. He had some aces up his sleeve, quite literally, but he was struggling to picture an outcome where he wasn’t thoroughly ripped up by 7.62 millimeter slugs. “Well, Mister Carter,” said the silken voice in the darkness, beyond the ring of ugly metal muzzles, “what have you to say for yourself?” * * * Heroes die. It comes with the job description. That’s not always convenient for the Powers That Be. The Powers That Be need heroes. Heroes keep the machine going because heroes by themselves aren’t quite enough. You need the little guys, and gals, to run into machine gun fire and barbed wire, to storm the beachhead and plant the flag, and that takes some persuading, as you might imagine. Heroes can inspire the little guy to slap a helmet on his head and go Over There, or clip on a badge and a gun and Protect and Serve. And die. Ugly? Sure. But that’s the system. That’s the history of the world. Without Jason you don’t have any Argonauts…and then who brings home that Golden Fleece? Once upon a time there was a man named Nick Carter, back when he was still just that. A man. In the late nineteenth century, his father Sam trained him to be the greatest athlete, the sharpest mind, the world’s preeminent detective. By the thirties it seemed like everyone was working on a superman of some kind, but old Sam Carter got there first. Nick was not a big guy. To look at him, you wouldn’t know he had the strength of ten men. You wouldn’t know about the gadgets and disguises. He didn’t have the airs of a great intellectual. He didn’t have a certain English gentleman’s air of superiority, but his affable, handsome face belied a brilliant mind. And for about good few decades, he cut a swath through criminality like a one-man police force. Nick Carter had died, as heroes inevitably do, in the combat chaos of the Second War to End All Wars. Those aforementioned Powers That Be had been ready, though. They hadn’t told Nick about it—top-secret stuff, hush-hush, need to know, you understand—but they were ready. Ironically, it was Carter’s longtime enemy, the vivisectionist serial killer and psychotic genius Dr. Jack Quartz, who was the key to his rebirth. The madman Quartz had been a prolific inventor. His cabinet of horrors also contained wonders unseen outside of the pages of the science fiction pulp magazines. They were, in a word, astounding. When Carter finally defeated him one last time, the Powers That Be had taken those wonders into their possession and spent decades trying to understand them, so as to turn them to future use. One of the many Quartz Gizmos was a suspended animation system. So it was that when Carter fell in battle, he was tossed in the Quartz Tank before his body was even cold. In his first life, Carter had been frustrated that the maniacal Quartz had this neat trick of coming back from the dead. Repeatedly. He’d been to the electric chair and the gallows, and somehow there was always a new Jack Quartz, like some monstrous, murderous jack-in-the-box. The Quartz Resurrection Gizmo was harder to crack…but the Powers That Be have a lot of money, and nothing but time. It took them a couple of decades. In the end…they figured that one out, too. And in due time, Nick Carter opened his eyes once again, for the first time since 1944. Carter hadn’t questioned the miracle. Maybe it was superstition, maybe he was afraid to find out what unholy combo platter of Dr. Frankenstein, Dr. Moreau, Baron Samedi and/or Anubis had been involved. Maybe it just seemed ungrateful to ask. Whatever the reason, he didn’t ask, and nobody else broached the topic. The Powers That Be didn’t get to be the Powers That Be by volunteering such information. Naturally, he remembered the seemingly endless line of ever younger, ever stronger Quartzes he had faced, and he shuddered to think. So he didn’t think long, or deeply. When the fog of two decades in the Quartz Tank wore off, Carter found that he did, after all, recognize the face in the mirror. The body, he noted, was about six inches taller. New and improved, he thought, but he chose not to question that, either. __________________________________ From DEAD DETECTIVES SOCIETY. Used with the permission of the publisher, MONSTROUS MAGAZINE. Copyright © 2023 by KEVIN J. ANDERSON and DAVID AVILLONE. View the full article

The world’s greatest living art thief is likely a 52-year-old Frenchman named Stéphane Breitwieser, who has stolen from some 200 museums, taking art worth an estimated total of $2 billion. While working on a book about him, I interviewed Breitwieser extensively, during which he discussed the details of dozens of his heists – and also expressed the brazen belief that his art crimes should be considered forgivable. But only his crimes. Breitwieser said that he didn’t even like being called an art thief, because all other art thieves seemed to be nothing more than art-hating thugs. This includes the most accomplished ones, like the two men who robbed Boston’s Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum on the night of St. Patrick’s Day, 1990. The Gardner thieves assaulted the pair of overnight guards, bound the guards’ eyes and mouths with duct tape, and handcuffed them to pipes in the basement. Then the Gardner robbers yanked down a magnificent Rembrandt seascape, and one of the men stuck a knife in it. Breitwieser can hardly bring himself to imagine it – the blade ripping along the edge of the work, paint flakes spraying, canvas threads ripping, until the masterpiece, released from its stretcher and frame, curled up as if in death throes. The thieves, whose $500 million crime remains unsolved, then moved on to another Rembrandt and did it again. “They’re barbarians,” said Breitwieser. Breitwieser, along with his girlfriend, Anne-Catherine Kleinklaus, who served as lookout on most of his thefts, never resorted to violence, or so much as the threat of violence. They stole from museums only during opening hours, using subtle diversionary tactics that permitted Breitwieser to make things disappear, magician-like, from walls or display cases, while carefully avoiding security cameras and alarm systems. The couple escaped by strolling out a museum’s front door, the artwork usually stashed beneath Breitwieser’s overcoat. A picture frame, Breitwieser acknowledged, can make a painting cumbersome to steal. So what Breitwieser did after taking a work from the wall was turn the piece over and manipulate the clips or nails on the back until the frame was detached. He left the frame behind in the museum – empty frames were his calling card – and was mindful that the painting, now vulnerable as a newborn, had to be meticulously shielded from damage. Later, he’d reframe the work. Also, Breitwieser emphasized, his sole motivation for stealing was aesthetic attraction. He only took pieces that stirred him emotionally, and he never sold anything he stole. Instead, he displayed everything in a pair of attic rooms where he and his girlfriend resided in his mother’s house in eastern France. There, in the attic, Breitwieser could commune with the art in ways not possible in a museum – relaxed in a comfortable chair, able to run his fingertips over the pieces, quietly and peacefully immersed in beauty. He and Kleinklaus slept in a bed in the center of one of the rooms, surrounded by spectacular works. Breitwieser always kept the door to the attic rooms locked, monitored humidity and sunlight, and told his mother that the objects were flea-market finds. Breitwieser argued that stealing the way he did – stealing for the love of art, in a refined and gentle manner – was an act of passion, deserving of hardly more punishment than a routine misdemeanor. Instead of an art thief, he preferred to be thought of as an art collector with a radical acquisition style. The criminal courts did not see it that way, and Breitwieser spent several years in prison. But I wondered how many other thieves were like Breitwieser. Who else stole for love? I spoke with police inspectors and criminologists who specialize in art thefts; I combed through piles of art-crime reports. In the realm of fiction, sure – nearly every art thief in novels and movies is a sensitive connoisseur. But in real life, fewer than one in a thousand art thieves are driven by the desire to possess something beautiful. Actual art thieves only want the money they can get by fencing the works. One of the rare exceptions was a physician in Philadelphia named Frank Waxman, married with two children, who stole dozens of items from art dealers in the 1970s and early 80s. Like Breitwieser, Waxman performed only daytime thefts, unarmed and well-dressed, hiding pieces under his jacket when gallery workers were distracted. An effective Waxman trick was to bring one of his young sons and ask an employee to keep watch on the child while he browsed. Waxman was also not seeking money. He displayed the loot – including pieces by Andy Warhol, Jasper Johns, and Pablo Picasso – in his apartment, the pieces spotlighted as if in a museum. He and his wife, who seems to have been under the impression that Waxman was spending an inheritance from his grandfather, hosted cocktail parties at their place, and this brazen lack of caution lead to Waxman’s arrest in 1982. Breitwieser and Kleinklaus, meanwhile, never allowed anyone to enter their attic lair, including acquaintances, relatives, and repair people. If something broke, it remained that way or they fixed it themselves. They never invited friends over. When they weren’t stealing, the couple lived in discreet, almost monk-like seclusion. Their mindset seemed similar to that of another art-crime exception, Rita and Jerry Alter. The Alters – unassuming, middle-aged public-school teachers, their two children grown – walked into the University of Arizona Museum of Art in Tucson on the day after Thanksgiving 1985. Rita struck up a conversation with the only security guard on duty while Jerry ascended the stairs. The weather was unseasonably cool, and Jerry kept on his coat. He soon returned and the Alters hastily left, fifteen minutes after they’d arrived. The guard, perplexed, checked the galleries and discovered an empty frame on the second floor where Willem de Kooning’s Woman-Ochre had hung. There were no surveillance cameras, but a police sketch of the couple was produced and the FBI worked the case. Anticipating a speedy recovery, the Arizona museum preserved the blank frame on display. The value of the de Kooning soared past $100 million, and the frame remained vacant for 31 years. The Alters, it turned out, had driven four hours back to their ranch house in Cliff, New Mexico, population 293. They remounted the de Kooning in a faux-gold frame and placed it in their bedroom so that it could only be seen while the door was closed. Then they resumed their regular lives. Jerry passed away in 2011, but not until Rita died six years later was the painting recovered. The Alters stole only one time. Breitwieser and Kleinklaus, starting in 1995, averaged one theft every 12 days for seven years. They often stole multiple pieces during a crime, and more than 300 works were eventually displayed in their attic. The couple is an anomaly among art stealers, but there does exist a group of criminals for whom long-term looting in service of artistic desire is common. In the taxonomy of sin, Breitwieser and Kleinklaus belong with the book thieves. Most people who steal large quantities of books are fanatic collectors, and there have been enough of these thieves that psychologists have grouped them into a specialized category. They’re called bibliomaniacs. Alois Pichler, a Catholic priest from Germany stationed in Saint Petersburg, Russia, modified his winter jacket with a special inside sack and took more than 4,000 books from the Russian Imperial Library, from 1869 to 1871, before he was finally caught and exiled to Siberia for life. Stephen Blumberg, from a wealthy Minnesota family, stole 20,000 books from libraries in the United States and Canada. Bookshelves filled every wall of his Victorian mansion, even in the bathrooms, and covered the windows. Blumberg was unmarried, lived off a trust fund, and read incessantly. He said he was trying to learn all that the world was forgetting. After he was betrayed by a confidant, the FBI hauled off 19 tons of books. Blumberg served four years in prison, was released in 1995, and promptly resumed book stealing. Duncan Jevons, a turkey-farm laborer from Suffolk, England, stole 42,000 library books over 30 years, starting in the mid 1960s, stashing them a few at a time in his battered leather briefcase. He lived alone and had broad literary tastes, taking volumes on nearly every subject except sports. Books, said Jevons, never cause problems like people do. He was eventually nabbed by the police and spent eight months in jail. Breitwiese’s favorite book thief is a fellow Frenchman, an engineering professor named Stanislas Gosse, who had a passion for religious tomes. Gosse stole a thousand volumes over two years from a securely locked library in a medieval monastery. The locks were changed three times during his binge, to no avail, for Gosse had learned, in the course of his constant reading, of a forgotten secret passage behind a hinged bookcase connecting to a back room of the adjacent hotel. He filled suitcases with books that felt to him abandoned, soiled with pigeon droppings, and entered and left the premises by blending in with tourist groups. Gosse cleaned the books and stored them in his apartment. He was arrested in 2002 after police hid a camera in the library, but just served probation. Breitwieser, like many bibliomaniacs, claimed that his crimes were victimless. But Breitwieser deprived everyone else of the ability to experience the works he stole. He was a cancer on civil society; the victims were all of us. His thefts were in no way justifiable, though compared with run-of-the mill art thieves, Breitwieser’s crimes, like a great work of art, were at least aesthetically pleasing. *** View the full article

Years ago I had a discussion with another author about someone’s work she admired. What stood out to her was that the setting came alive in this third author’s books. Trees weren’t just there—they lived and breathed and grabbed onto you. The ground wasn’t something you simply walked on—it sucked you in. And the air wasn’t only something that gave life, but it might also snuff it out. The idea excited me and the conversation stuck with me. Because—what if setting could be something more than the place where your novel takes place? What if it could shape the narrative? What if it was crucial to how the story panned out? This is a common theme in gothics—those creepy old houses!—but what about outside that genre? Could setting be a character in a thriller or suspense novel too? And if so, how? I sat with that idea for a long time. I played with it to a certain extent in my novel I’ll Never Tell, which is set at a summer camp whose location (but not events) is based on one that I attended for many years. I wanted to invoke sense memories in that book—the way a campfire smells, the sheltering pines, the brackish smell of the lake. But while the setting was important to the novel, it wasn’t crucial. I could’ve told that story in a different place without changing it drastically. I still had work to do. And then I started writing Have You Seen Her. It’s about Cassie Peters, a search and rescue worker who returns to Yosemite National Park after ten years away to resume that job and start over. Yosemite is essential to the plot, and I wanted to bring it alive as a character. The book is set in the Tuolumne Meadows section of the Park—less famous than the valley floor where Half Dome and El Capitan are. As I wrote the novel, I wanted the reader to feel like they were there with Cassie even if they’d never even seen a picture of it at all, let alone visited. That they could feel the rough rockface beneath her hands as she went for a climb. Or that bone cold-chill of the waters of the crystal lakes. And the fear that the forest can instill, but also the stillness. It’s a beautiful place, but also one where people get hurt. Where people go missing. Where people disappear. Hopefully, I pulled it off. But, in case I didn’t, here’s a list of books that most definitely did, and ones I drew inspiration from as I was writing mine. Girls Night Out by Liz Fenton and Lisa Steinke Setting: Tulum, Mexico Three friends go to Mexico for a girls’ trip to repair the wounds between them. But when one of them goes missing, secrets are revealed as the two remaining women desperately search for their friend. If you’ve ever been there, you know that the Mayan Riviera is a beautiful setting, but there’s a menace to it too, which Fenton & Steinke do a great job of evoking, especially in the scenes set in a cenote–a combination of a cave and sinkhole that has a shimmering beauty to it, but might just be the perfect place to hide a body. They brilliantly weave their setting—the Mayan ruins, the water, and some very strong margaritas—into the plot, including in the final twist that will leave you both surprised and satisfied. The Overnight Guest by Heather Gudenkauf Setting: An isolated farmhouse in a snowstorm Sounds like a great place to write a book, right? That’s what author Wylie Lark thinks—that is until she discovers a small child outside in the raging storm. Oh, and did I mention that two people were murdered in the house twenty years ago? Is the house haunted or is that just Wylie’s imagination, fueled by the storm that’s battering the house and cutting them off from civilization? For anyone who grew up where winter storms can rage, you know how isolating they can make you feel. When you can’t see the hand in front of your face or hear anything through the howling wind… It might seem cozy by that fire, but anything could be happening outside and you wouldn’t know it until it was too late. Gudenkauf knits her story into the storm and the storm into the story perfectly so you can feel the bite of the cold and the slap of the storm. One by One by Ruth Ware Setting: an isolated ski lodge in the French Alps Ruth Ware also uses snow to great effect in One by One, about a group of co-workers who rent an isolated ski lodge on the top of a mountain in the French Alps for a corporate retreat. After one of them goes missing, and a storm closes in, secrets are revealed, and fear mounts. The cold plays a role here too, as the temperature drops by the hour and it’s impossible to bring in supplies or anyone to rescue them until the storm abates. The fantastic slopes that they’d enjoyed in the sunshine the day before turn into a menacing presence and constant danger. The Guest List by Lucy Foley and Her Dark Lies by JT Ellison Setting: An island off the coast of somewhere Did Agatha Christie do this first in And Then There Were None? I’m not a book historian, but certainly, ever since that book, the idea of a group gathered on an island with a potential killer among them has had a constant appeal. Two recent, and great, entries into this field are The Guest List and Her Dark Lies. Both novels use their setting to great effect—the boat ride to the island, the dark nooks and crannies that islands have, the isolation. Because how long does it take for you to get cut off from the mainland? And how easy is it for the thin veneer of civilization to be stripped away? Both books also use a wedding as a device. In Her Dark Lies, it’s the protagonist’s impending wedding that’s threatened, by the island itself, it seems. Or is it by her almost-to-be-husband’s family? And in The Guest List, it’s the guests that are under threat, as a body is found during the reception, and the guests discover just how alone they are. I read these two novels back-to-back and they’re great companion pieces to one another. So next time you read a book—one of mine or someone else’s—ask yourself whether the setting is a character and whether it should be. It will take you great places. *** View the full article

Morally ambiguous characters wouldn’t make the best of friends, but they do make for interesting books. So—why is it that readers are often able to root for fictional killers, who violate one of the basic tenets of society: the right to life? That’s one of the questions I asked myself when I started writing Before She Finds Me, which features Ren Petrovic, a pregnant assassin who targets those she and her husband deem worthy of punishment. Ren was raised into the trade by her father, whose mantra was instilled in her as a child. Shield the innocent. Kill the guilty. Defend the family. Ren’s own mantra is simpler: Do what’s right. But her definition of what’s right differs dramatically from the average reader’s. (One would hope anyway.) In creating the character of Ren, I thought a lot about the fictional contract killers and vigilantes who came before. How do they justify their profession or avocation? And what makes them nevertheless relatable—even if I’m not personally inclined to whip up a batch of cookies made with the poisonous barbados nut. The why is crucial. Before she kills someone by poisoning them, Ren asks her targets philosophical questions, such as What do you think is more important—intention or outcome? For fictional killers and vigilantes alike, intention matters. Without a compelling reason for their actions—often rooted in traumatic backstory, and often pitting them against a greater evil—it would be harder to recognize, and thus connect with, their humanity. It’s easier to engage with a morally complex character who struggles to make the right choice. (Outcomes matter, too, of course. No one wants to see an animal or innocent harmed. Still, as a reader, I find it easier forgive a bad outcome than evil intent.) Reading such characters can also be cathartic. Exploring the character of Ren helped in my struggle to make sense of a very complicated world. But also—she was a lot of fun to write. Would I want to share a drink with her? Definitely not, especially if she prepared it. But I’ll always be up for reading stories like hers. The attempts of such characters to do what’s right is relatable, even if these characters do things I would never do. Here are six books that feature killers with a code. DARKLY DREAMING DEXTER, Jeff Lindsay A list like this couldn’t exist without a reference to the influential books that spawned a hit Showtime series. Dexter Morgan is a blood spatter analyst for the Miami police—and also a vigilante serial killer. He operates under a strict code passed down to him by his adoptive father, Harry, who recognized his son’s violent urges. Dexter only targets murderers or violent criminals who slipped through the cracks of the legal system. He also goes out of his way to prove to himself that his targets are guilty of their crimes—though he also often feels a kinship with the killers on his list. THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO, Stieg Larsson Asocial hacker Lisbeth Salander was my favorite part of the Millennium Series. Like others on this list, Lisbeth has strong opinions about what constitutes justice, especially when it comes to crimes against women. (Like others on this list, she has the prerequisite tragic and motivating backstory.) Whether in self-defense or retribution, Lisbeth steps right up to the line many times. Does she cross it into murder? No spoilers here, but what makes the reader root for Lisbeth is that she does have a conscience, and the men she targets are guilty of truly horrific acts. EXIT STRATEGY, Kelley Armstrong Nadia Stafford was a police officer until a scandal cost her her career. Now, she’s a contract killer working for a Mafia family, using the part-time gig to pay the bills until her wilderness lodge starts making money. The first person she targets is a drug dealer—a bad man who, she believes, has earned his death. Even then, though, her thoughts turn to those who care for him, who don’t deserve their inevitable suffering at his loss. So we know up front she has a conscience. When a serial killer who might be a professional like her starts murdering innocent people, Nadia bands together with a small group of contract killers to uncover the truth before their own secret society is unmasked. KILLERS OF A CERTAIN AGE, Deanna Raybourn Readers first meet Billie, Helen, Natalie, and Mary Alice as new recruits of the Museum, a multi-national organization that began by hunting Nazis and now targets war criminals and other really bad people. (Billie, for example, is recruited with this pitch: Haven’t you ever thought to yourself that some people simply need killing to make the world a better place?) As the novel opens, the elite all-female squad is preparing to assassinate their first mark on a plane. How do readers know these four women have “standards”? While they don’t hesitate to kill the man and his entourage, one of them insists on saving a poodle onboard. Forty years later, the four assassins are sent on a free cruise to celebrate their retirement, but they quickly realize they’ve been marked for death by their own organization. THE INNOCENT, David Baldacci This novel introduces Will Robie, the guy the U.S. government calls on to eliminate the worst of the worst—enemies of the state, monsters who prey on the weak, and men with more money than morals. Robie is the type to sleep soundly after killing five men, but who turns off his scope when a female target of his surveillance begins to undress. He’s also the type of hitman who has second thoughts when his latest target turns out to be a young mom. After he refuses to pull the trigger, a fleeing Robie crosses paths with a teen runaway. Against all his training, he can’t walk away—especially after learning her parents were killed, and her life, too, is in danger. HOW I’LL KILL YOU, Ren DeStefano On first glance, these serial killer triplets—Sissy, Moody, and Iris—might not appear to have a code, at least not one rooted in morality. They have a nasty habit of killing their boyfriends, and the man Sissy has identified for her first kill seems perfectly nice. For this trio, they’re motivated less by the urge to get rid of really bad men (even if their first kill is a married and emotionally abusive lover) and more by sister code. So what happens when Sissy has second thoughts about the life they’ve chosen, and begins to have feelings for her mark? In this family, having a conscience might get you killed. *** View the full article

Since they first appeared in fiction, women detectives have been a force to be reckoned with. Often underestimated, they use this to their advantage, eavesdropping on important conversations and drawing confessions out of the most unlikely suspects. Whether seen as coquettish or ignored for being matronly, our favorite fictional female sleuths know how to manipulate misconceptions for their own benefit. The iconic women detectives of fiction each have their own unique methods, building on those who came before. They prove time and time again, through our favorite murder mysteries, that women have an important place in the pursuit of justice. The following changed the game, making their mark on the crime-solving world – and paving the way for those who will come after. Vera Wong from Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, by Jesse Q. Sutanto Meddling in the best way, Vera Wong is a tea-shop owner, a matchmaker… and becomes a detective in this cozy mystery from the author of Dial A for Aunties. Opinionated, quirky, and orderly, Vera is a sleuth who shows that “amateur” doesn’t have to mean inept. She’s a mature woman, confident in her skills, who uses her big heart to lead her investigation. Finlay Donovan from Finlay Donovan Is Killing It by Elle Cosimano Single mom Finlay Donovan is proof that a woman doesn’t have to be organized to solve a crime. Her life is chaotic, she hasn’t finished the manuscript she promised her agent, and her ex-husband only adds another problem on top of everything. She stumbles into a murder investigation by accident – after all, she thought she was merely enjoying a normal excursion to Panera, and suddenly she’s mistaken for a contract killer… But using her wit, ability to roll with the punches, and understanding of people’s character, Finlay proves an adept detective. Antoinette Conway from The Secret Place by Tana French Rookie detective Antoinette Conway of French’s Dublin Murder Squad series is tough. She’s got a chip on her shoulder, but this is what allows her to overcome hazing and attempts at intimidation, in order to solve her case: a murder at a girls’ boarding school. Her determination and drive make her a force to be reckoned with. Claudia Lin from The Verifiers by Jane Pek Witty and secretive, Claudia eschews her family’s idea of success to carve her own path. She’s recruited by an online-dating detective agency, but her dream job turns into a nightmare when she must investigate a missing client. Claudia is book-smart, tech-smart, and all around a savvy sleuth for the digital era. Miss Marple from The Murder at the Vicarage by Agatha Christie One of the most famous female detectives, Miss Marple proves that nosiness and maturity are skills important for any crime-solver. Christie’s “lady next door” character is often overlooked by her neighbors – she’s just a kindly old woman, isn’t she? – but she’s always watching and taking in information. From classics like The Murder at the Vicarage to Sleeping Murder, Miss Marple mysteries always end with her catching the killer and everyone learning: never underestimate the lady next door. Nancy Drew (Mildred Wirt Benson “Carolyn Keene” – an interesting backstory for Nancy’s creator!) The sleuth everyone thinks of when they hear “girl detective,” Nancy Drew was created by Edward Stratemeyer of the Stratemeyer Syndicate. He had successfully created The Hardy Boys, and after the series’ success amongst girls as well as boys, Stratemeyer decided to create a girl detective in the vein of the beloved Hardy Boys. However, Stratemeyer didn’t really believe in his own idea – he was a traditional man who thought women belonged in the home. However, “Carolyn Keene” disagreed: Mildred Augustine Wirt Benson was hired to ghostwrite the Nancy Drew series. A great adventurer who obtained her pilot’s license, Benson crafted a smart and spirited girl detective who inspired young girls to dream big. Kinsey Millhone from A is for Alibi by Sue Grafton Independent, quirky, and a bit of a loner, tough-talking Kinsey Millhone strikes out on her own to become a successful private investigator in Sue Grafton’s alphabet mystery series. She deals with childhood trauma, the lasting effects her cases have on her both emotionally and physically, but overcomes to solve case after case. Louise Lloyd from Dead Dead Girls by Nekesa Afia Determined and hardworking, Louise Lloyd is a sleuth in 1920s Harlem – but her modern views make her a sleuth who inspires. When a girl turns up dead at the café where Louise works, she goes undercover to solve the crime. In spite of many trials, Louise is determined and feisty, a detective with the grit to make it even in the toughest of situations. Agatha Raisin from Agatha Raisin and the Quiche of Death by M. C. Beaton A dreamer and a doer, Agatha Raisin retires from public relations and ultimately sets up her own detective agency. She proves that sometimes bitterness is needed in order to light a fire… and solve a case. In her first appearance, she tries to enjoy a peaceful life in the Cotswolds, until a quiche she bought kills someone. She’s forced to investigate to clear her name, but her determined methods prove – to us, and to Agatha – that this was her true calling all along. Elizabeth and Joyce from The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman Elizabeth and Joyce prove that a person doesn’t have to stop solving crime, simply because one lives in a retirement village. Elizabeth has lived a life, and she uses her skills from her past to continue solving crime. Joyce is new to the game, but she proves that it’s never too late to have a new hobby. Mma Precious Ramotswe from The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith Confident, clever, and cunning, Mma Ramotswe is the first female private investigator in Botswana. She has incredible people skills, which she applies to her cases, allowing her to easily size up suspects. Mma Ramotswe takes traditionally feminine traits, and turns them into key crime-solving qualities. The Female Detective by Andrew Forrester and Revelations of a Lady Detective by W.S. Hayward It is thought that the “female detective” and the “lady detective” were the first women sleuths to appear in fiction, in the 1860s. From the beginning, authors made it clear that these women were underestimated – and they used this to their advantage. “The woman detective has far greater opportunities than a man of intimate watching, and of keeping her eye upon matters near where a man could not conveniently play the eavesdropper,” according to Revelations of a Lady Detective. Women may have been forced into the background… but from there, they were watching, and they saw everything. *** View the full article

But here's the thing. With the same set of identical prompts, the AI and the human will turn out stories that differ in complexity and imagination, regardless of how "good" AI becomes.

The teens are not all right. According to a recent report by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 42 percent of U.S. high schoolers had feelings of hopelessness or sadness in 2021. But the group that experienced these emotions most acutely was teenage girls, with nearly three in five of them feeling persistent sadness throughout the year. While these rates of sadness are the highest reported in a decade, such feelings are not uncommon amongst teenage girls. They’re at the core of my debut book, The Elissas, which follows my childhood best friend, Elissa, through her time in the Troubled Teen Industry where she met two other girls uncannily named Alissa and Alyssa who were battling depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder, respectively. Mental health conditions that I believe were exacerbated by the negligent practices of such therapeutic boarding schools, and ultimately led to them meeting the same tragic fate—as none of these three young women lived past 26. To better understand the Elissas, I had to dig deeper into the pervasive sadness each of them experienced, as well as the coping mechanism they adopted in response to their pain. (Which ranged from self-harm, to disordered eating, to emotional dependency, to drugs and alcohol.) And the following 9 books both helped me glimpse the battles they waged, as well as develop further empathy for this “in crisis” demographic at large. Drinking: A Love Story by Caroline Knapp Detailing the twenty years Knapp spent as a functioning alcoholic—beginning in her early teen years—this book made me understand the ways in which alcohol can serve as “liquid armor.” Substances can offer young women a way to protect themselves from past traumas, or mental health struggles, as it did for Knapp. I Never Promised You a Rose Garden by Joanne Greenberg This semi-autobiographical novel of a teen girl’s battle with schizophrenia became a modern classic upon its publication in 1964 for its unflinching look at institutionalization. And nearly 60 years later, there is much to be learned from Greenberg’s depiction of in-patient treatment, a fraught but still ever-popular approach for teen girls. Edie by Jean Stein The story of socialite Edie Sedgwick’s life, told via oral history, shines light both on the mark Edie made upon the art world as well as the perils of letting teenage girl’s mental health go untreated. Because despite being famous and glamorous, Edie’s demons—the trauma of her early life; the depression she suffered from—led her to die from a drug overdose at 29 years old. Untangled by Lisa Damour What I admire so much about Untangled is the ways in which Damour is able to discern what is normal vs. worrisome behavior amongst teen girls. Prior to reading this book, I always felt commonplace rebellion—teen drinking, sexual exploration, etc.—was hard to tell apart from what kind of experimentation is rooted in sadness and depression. But Damour creates resources for parents, friends, and fellow teens to be able to evaluate teenage girls’ behavior and better care for them. Girlhood by Melissa Febos A coping mechanism that came up time and time again throughout my research on teenage girls was “promiscuity.” It’s something Febos herself grappled with, and is at the heart of her book, Girlhood. Having developed early, attention from romantic suitors became Febos’ currency. Being wanted was the first high she chased, long before becoming addicted to heroin in her twenties. Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann Like many suburban teenage girls dream of doing, Valley of the Dolls‘ protagonist, Anne Welles escapes the ennui of smalltown Massachusetts and moves to New York. But neither Anne—nor any of the other women of this book—can escape the pull of amphetamines and barbiturates. Using them to numb the pressures and feelings of depression they’ve struggled with since their adolescence. Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen Kaysen’s groundbreaking memoir follows the 18 months she spent at McLean Hospital, a much-respected psychiatric facility in Massachusetts, where she was treated for borderline personality disorder. When the book was published in 1993 it opened the floodgates for other women to come forward and begin writing openly and honestly about their own mental health struggles, with Elizabeth Wurtzel publishing Prozac Nation the following year. The book has since become known as the pioneer of the “Sad Girl lit” subgenre, which consists of stories about young women who are gripped by feelings of malaise. Help at Any Cost by Maia Szalavaitz In 2006, Szalavitz published this exhaustive study of the Troubled Teen Industry. The book examines the industry’s many origins from the cult of Synanon, to the World Wide Association of Specialty Programs and Schools, and Straight, Inc. The book is essential reading for anyone wanting to go deeper into the history of this industry. Stolen by Elizabeth Gilpin Gilpin herself is the survivor of the Troubled Teen Industry and in her powerful debut memoir she charts how her undiagnosed depression wreaked havoc on her life as an honor student and state-ranked swimmer, ultimately leading her to skip practices and turn to heavy drinking. Gilpin is unflinching in her depiction of her time in therapeutic boarding school, and what it took to pick up the pieces of her life upon graduation. *** View the full article

Another week, another batch of books for your TBR pile. Happy reading, folks. * Beatriz Williams, The Beach at Summerly (William Morrow) “Beatriz Williams’s vivid historical novel alternates with measured suspense between present and past.” –Booklist David Bell, Try Not to Breathe (Berkley) “Bell delivers a perfect beach read with compelling characters and baffling circumstances….even the savviest suspense readers will be shocked by the final pages.” –Library Journal RV Raman, Praying Mantis (Agora) “On the surface it is a classic locked-room mystery, but one executed with such grace and style that it never seems old-fashioned or forced. Athreya is a detective to cherish.” –Daily Mail Craig Russell, The Devil’s Playground (Doubleday) “Excellent, engrossing… Russell, the author of the brilliant The Devil Aspect, is a steady guide, ferrying readers between Hollywood’s promises and its terrible reality. His precise, gorgeous prose shines.” –New York Times Book Review Shanora Williams, The Other Mistress (Dafina) “A fast-paced, psychological trip with a climax that will shock the most voracious readers…Williams has a winner on her hands. Recommended for fans of Alyssa Cole, Liv Constantine, and Megan Goldin.” –Library Journal Katie Garner, The Night It Ended (MIRA) “Yes, The Night It Ended is a dark gothic murder investigation at a mysterious school for troubled girls—but don’t judge, don’t assume, don’t try to figure it out—just let Garner’s masterful sleight of hand carry you away through the gasp-worthy twists and turns. Do not miss this!” –Hank Phillippi Ryan David Housewright, In a Hard Wind (Minotaur) “Housewright’s finest hour, bar none.” –Kirkus Reviews Heather Chavez, Before She Finds Me (Mulholland) “Chavez plays with thriller conventions . . . an intense, high-stakes thriller that also explores what it means to be a family and the lengths to which one will go in order to keep that dynamic safe.” –Library Journal Julia Seales, A Most Agreeable Murder (Random House) “[An] exceptional debut . . . The intricate plot races along at a sprightly pace, and Seales delights with her sharp humor and accomplished sense of narrative control. Jane Austen fans will be enthralled.” –Publishers Weekly Mark O’Connell, A Thread of Violence: A Story of Truth, Invention, and Murder (Doubleday) “[A] true crime gem…. Swirling together dogged reporting with questions about the media’s coverage of crime, O’Connell manages a gripping account that casts a skeptical eye on its own genre. Even readers put off by profiles of killers will be piqued.” –Publishers Weekly View the full article

Bologna, capital of northern Italy’s Emilia-Romagna region. With only about 400,000 citizens the city is still one of Italy’s most multicultural, largely due to being a university town. Widen out the region and it’s a million people. Alternatively known as the Fat City for its rich cuisine, or the Red City for its red tiled rooftops, and sometimes the Learned City as Bologna is home to the world’s oldest university (in continuous operation). It’s also a beautiful city – a massive UNESCO World Heritage site and also, of course, a city with some fine crime writing. Or should we say Gialli – Italian crime fiction books? The name comes from the covers of a popular Italian series of crime fiction stories launched by Milanese publisher Mondadori in 1929, which were yellow (in Italian: giallo). Without doubt the two major Bolognese giallisti are Loriano Machiavelli and Carlo Lucarelli. However, sadly we have no books of Machiavelli’s, featuring his long running character policeman Sarti Antonio. Italian readers are more fortunate in having access to Machiavelli’s novels (approximately 40 in total!) that recount the changes in the city. Alongside Andrea Camilleri (of the Inspector Montalbano books) Machiavelli is the most prolific post-war Italian giallisti. Time for someone to head to Emilia-Romagna and buy up those rights! We do fortunately have some Carlo Lucarelli – known as the “master of Italian noir”. Lucarelli is best known for his Inspector De Luca trilogy, and the successful TV show (for which he wrote the scripts too) following Commissario Achille De Luca navigating the world of crime and politics in Mussolini-era fascist Bologna between 1938 to 1948 – “he’s not a fascist/he’s not a partisan/he’s a cop”. The first instalment in the enormously successful De Luca Trilogy (which are all short and essentially novellas) is Carte Blanche (1990), followed by The Damned Season (1991) set in the immediate post-war years and (perhaps the best) Via Della Oche (1996) where a murder in a brothel on a notorious street in the centre of Bologna in the run-up to elections that will decide a nation’s fate. Lucarelli also has several stand-alone novels translated into English including Almost Blue (1997) where a serial killer is loose in Bologna and rookie Detective Inspector Grazia Negro is assigned the case. She only has one witness who can identify the killer – and he is blind. Lucarelli was was shortlisted for the UK Crime Writers’ Association Gold Dagger in 2003 for Almost Blue. Grazia Negro returns in Day After Day (2000) hunting a professional killer whose picture of a pit bull terrier left behind at each murder can link the crimes and stalks the internet too. I think it’s fair to say that Italian giallisti prefer their heroes to be cops – flawed often, but still policemen and women. A fairly rare example of a professional private eye in Italian crime fiction is Bologna-born Grazia Verasani’s PI Giorgia Cantini, who lives in Bologna, is single, in her forties, independent, hard-drinking, ironic, and haunted by two family suicides. She features in a popular trilogy in Italian that inspired a movie though only the first in the series, Quo Vadis, Baby? (2005), has been translated into English so far. It’s got everything that symbolises Bologna – ancient streets, the old university, and leftist politics. It’s also hard-core noir, nobody is happy, everybody’s miserable – the Cantini Detective Agency mostly investigates the tangled affairs of unhappily married couples and domestic violence. Hopefully more from Verasani will be translated as she is a genuinely original voice from Bologna. Leftist agitators and property moguls are at the heart of Tom Benjamin’s novel A Quiet Death in Italy (2020), the first in a trilogy. A radical protestor is found floating in one of Bologna’s underground canals. PI Daniel Leicester, son-in-law to the former chief of the Bologna police, receives a call from the dead man’s lover, he follows a trail that begins in the 1970s and leads all the way to the rotten heart of the present-day political establishment. The novel is a great trawl through Bologna’s underbelly. Leicester returns The Hunting Season (2021) set during truffle season in the hills around Bologna the hunt is on for the legendary Boscuri White, much prized by Italian gastronomy. But it’s soon back to the underbelly of the city’s catering trade and illegal immigration. And finally Requiem in La Rossa (2022) where a professor of music is apparently murdered leaving the Bologna opera. Leicester follows a trail that begins among Bologna’s close-knit classical music community and eventually leads to a serial killer at large. A few more Bologna set novels… Gianluca Morozzi’s Blackout (2008) is set in Bologna in August with its unbearable heat and empty streets. Three people become trapped in a lift in a deserted building on a holiday weekend. There’s nobody to help, one of them is a serial killer. John Grisham takes a trip to Bologna in The Broker (2010) where the CIA obtain a presidential pardon for a man who has secrets. His is given a new identity and a new life in Bologna. But now someone has come to kill him. Our old friend from Venice Aurelio Inspector Zen goes to Bologna in Michael Dibdin’s Back to Bologna (2005). The corpse of the shady industrialist who owns the local soccer team is found both shot and stabbed with a Parmesan knife. Then a world-famous university professor is shot with the same gun after publicly humiliating Italy’s leading celebrity TV chef. And along comes a semiotics student and Tony Speranza, Bologna’s most flamboyant private detective. This is a very Italian crime novel! A true crime from Bologna – Monica Calabritto’s Murder and Madness on Trial (2023) goes back to 1588 Bologna. Paolo Barbieri stabbed his wife, Isabella Caccianemici, to death with his sword. Later, Paolo would claim to have acted in a fit of madness—but was he criminally insane or merely pretending to be? This is a case study in the diagnosis of insanity in the early modern era, Barbieri’s story reveals discrepancies between medical and legal definitions of a person’s mental state at the time of a crime. And finally, as usual, something a little bit different and a little bit special – Giampiero Rigosi’s Night Bus (2006). Truly hard-core Italian noir – Leila drugs the men she picks up and then robs them. However, problems arise when her latest client has mistakenly acquired a document that could compromise certain corrupt politicians willing to kill to get it back. She is hunted through Bologna and while on the run meets Francesco, bus driver and gambling addict. A dark, broody novel that takes you on a nightmare trip through Bologna. View the full article

The following is a conversation between two debut YA novelists: Amanda Linsmeier, author of Starlings, and Amy Goldsmith, author of Those We Drown, both lyrically written horror novels that test the bounds of the YA genre. Both novels are now available from Delacorte Press. Amanda Linsmeier: Hi Amy! I’m so excited to chat with you today about our books! Creating a strong and atmospheric setting is so important in stories. The town in STARLINGS became like its own character to me, and I loved your setting so much—as I was reading I was struck by the fact that it felt really fresh and at the same time, perfectly ominous. At what point did you know THOSE WE DROWN would take place on a cruise ship, and why do you think it’s such a great setting for this story in particular? Amy Goldsmith: Hi Amanda. So good to chat with you, too! I agree that a setting can act almost like a character in itself—like Shirley Jackson’s eponymous Hill House—and I wanted the Eos, the vast cruise liner where THOSE WE DROWN is set, to feel like that too. Very early on, I knew I wanted to tell a story where the main character was being unconsciously led into something deeply sinister, where they didn’t realise just how much trouble they were in until it was too late. For that kind of story, a locked room setting, such as a ship, is ideal since the MC can’t just get a taxi the heck out of there like any rational person. Around the same time I was playing with this idea, there were stories in the press about thousands of people being stuck on cruise ships, quarantined for weeks due to c*vid outbreaks, which sounded pretty nightmarish to me. So those two ideas ended up converging into THOSE WE DROWN. The town of Rosemont and its eerie rose festival reminded me a little of Ari Aster’s Midsommar. Was folk horror a conscious influence on STARLINGS? Amanda Linsmeier: I think it was more under the surface, at least in the first several drafts. Early on, my comps were all over the place, and so was the story—I actually began it thinking more of The Crucible vibes (and it was historical). But once I settled on placing it in a contemporary town, it came alive. I wanted to set my story in a charming and “perfect” town where nothing bad ever could possibly happen, which is of course, not true at all in Rosemont’s case! As far as Midsommar, there’s something unsettling about how it sneaks up on you, particularly when you take into account the bright, light colors and that most of it takes place in the daytime. The funny thing is that I hadn’t actually seen that movie until we sold STARLINGS, and my editor told me Midsommar reminded her of it, so I immediately watched it and was like, wow! It was pretty cool picking out details that resonated and taking that into account as we marketed the book. I think the comp we went with for the pitch—if Midsommar was set in Stars Hollow—fits perfectly. There are many writers that have influenced my own writing. From Robin McKinley to Maya Angelou to R.L. Stine, I grew up reading and loving all kinds of things, and I’m guessing you were the same. Is there any book in particular that made a lasting impact on your work? Amy Goldsmith: Yes! The dark side of Greek mythology strongly influences THOSE WE DROWN, and I couldn’t get enough of myths and legends as a kid. This was pre-Percy Jackson, so there wasn’t a ton out there for children, but I remember being enthralled by Leon Garfield’s THE GOD BENEATH THE SEA and its sequel, THE GOLDEN SHADOW. Another favourite series of mine was Susan Cooper’s THE DARK IS RISING sequence, a contemporary fantasy series that beautifully weaves Arthurian legend, English folklore, and Welsh mythology together. There’s something so timeless about myths in general that hugely inspires my writing and many of them contain messages that are still relevant. Another childhood favourite of mine was an abridged version of Edgar Allan Poe’s TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION, and I think that kickstarted my eternal love of dark and creepy stories. Speaking of inspiration, what inspired you to write STARLINGS? Amanda Linsmeier: I have a visceral memory of reading THE HAZELWOOD, and it sending a little chill up my spine. I had fallen out of habit of reading books that unsettled me—it had been years since I’d read any dark fantasy or horror or anything like that—and I had this flash of a thought as I read: can I write something like this? And so I started dipping my toe into fantasy/horror. With STARLINGS, I let myself lean into the horror aspect. Before I even drafted it, though, I was just coming off of an Adult manuscript that was pretty dark, and I remember thinking this new idea about a girl and creepy things in the woods (no spoilers) sounds SO FUN! Like, it would be a vacation from all the grief-y and heavy things I’d immersed myself in with the prior novel. Writing STARLINGS was so fun, but it turned out to deal with themes that I wasn’t anticipating—I guess I just can’t get away from writing those darker things (I’ve fully embraced it now)! But on a purely indulgent note I was very inspired by Pinterest photos of dead flowers and girls in white dresses. Music is another things that inspired me—there’s a scene where my protagonist Kit is doing something quite frightening and as soon as I heard Unchained Melody by Norah Jones, I knew it was the perfect slow and romantic song to contrast this horrible thing happening. Now—both our books are Young Adult. What do you like best about writing for teens? And speaking of teens, I think Kit is far braver than I ever was at seventeen—or even now! Amy, how do you think your teenage self would have fared aboard The Eos? Amy Goldsmith: Part of the reason I love writing for teens was the absolute delight I felt the first time I discovered teen horror. At twelve, I was just as obsessed with horror as I am now, and I’d read (and enjoyed) all of my dad’s dusty old volumes of ghost stories but wasn’t quite ready for the heavier hitters of horror like Stephen King. So, when I walked into Waterstones and discovered Point Horror and Christopher Pike for the first time, I was blown away. Shelf after shelf of ominously titled books like THE BABYSITTER and FUNHOUSE with equally spine-chilling covers. Here was horror specifically written for me. Horror that wasn’t written by a fusty old clergyman from the 1800s but was instead about the perils of house-sitting while your parents were out of town or flirting with the mysterious new boy at school. I needed the bridge those books provided before entering the more adult-orientated horror spaces. As for how teenage Amy would have fared aboard the Eos, badly. The downside of years of reading horror is that I’m overly suspicious of everything, so I’d probably be chucked overboard the very first night! One of the many reasons I loved Starlings was because it features a very unsettling insidious type of horror. What draws you to dark fiction? Amanda Linsmeier: Goodness, so many things. I think there’s a part of me that simply and absolutely delights in that delicious moment where you are reading or watching a movie, and feel in your gut something is wrong and it’s the anticipation that really terrifies you. Other horror authors have touched on this, as well, but having anxiety over a lot of stuff makes me feel like I’m scared much of the time—and writing scary things gives me courage. I can face things that frighten me and look them in the eye and write my characters (and in some ways, myself) over the other side. It’s a way for me to take control in an otherwise often uncontrollable world. Amy Goldsmith: Thanks so much for your great questions, Amanda. I enjoyed chatting and am looking forward to debuting together! What’s up next for you? Amanda Linsmeier: Thank you! I had a fantastic time chatting with you, too, and I’m glad we get to share this amazing experience of debuting together! Up next for me is another YA with Delacorte Press, coming next summer, called SIX OF SORROW. It’s a horror novel in which six teen girls, all born on the same day, must unravel the secrets of their small town after one of them disappears, only to return very, very different. I just handed in my latest revision and I’m incredibly excited to get to share this book next year! What’s next for you, Amy? Amy Goldsmith: That sounds so eerie; I can’t wait to read it! I also have another YA horror with Delacorte on the horizon, releasing next summer. It’s called OUR WICKED HISTORIES and was initially inspired by THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER by E A Poe. It’s a tale of betrayal and revenge centred upon a group of estranged friends reuniting in an old manor house by a cursed lake. Amanda Linsmeier: That sounds wonderful! I can’t wait. Thanks again for the great talk! Amanda Linsmeier’s debut novel, Starlings, is now available. Amy Goldsmith’s debut novel, Those We Drown, is now available. View the full article

There are few people in the history of organized labor in America who are as infamous as Jimmy Hoffa. He rose from poverty to become the president of the International Brotherhood of the Teamsters (IBT or just the Teamsters) and helped expand it into one of the most powerful unions in the world. Hoffa rubbed shoulders with gangsters, fought bitterly with Robert F. Kennedy, got convicted of jury tampering and other crimes in 1967, and promised to take back control of the Teamsters after his controversial release from prison in 1971 before he mysteriously vanished in 1975. His disappearance, as well as the fact that his body was never found, continues to fascinate people. But Hoffa hasn’t lived on in popular culture just because he is at the center of an unsolved mystery. His life and personality have provided fertile material for writers and filmmakers. He has been a character in the work of James Ellroy (American Tabloid and The Cold Six Thousand), an influence on Treat Williams’s character in Once Upon a Time in America (1984), and even a minor part of a TV film about Jesse Owens (The Jesse Owens Story (1984)). He has also played a pivotal role in several major films as either a prominent supporting or lead character. The directors of those films use the events of Hoffa’s memorable life and interesting persona as a type of canvas onto which they paint their key artistic interests, aided by actors whose fascinating performances as the notorious union leader capture different parts of his life and personality. The most recent depiction of Hoffa in popular culture was in The Irishman (2019). He doesn’t have appear in a proper scene until 46 minutes into the film. But Hoffa (Al Pacino) is mentioned several times before his fateful interview with truck driver/ hitman Frank Sheeran (Robert DeNiro) to be his bodyguard. One of them is when Mob-connected Teamsters lawyer Bill Buffalino (Ray Romano) tells Sheeran that he is unable to be fired for stealing steaks because of the contract the Teamsters have “thanks to Jimmy Hoffa.” Even before they have met, Hoffa is established as a powerful figure whose activities are intertwined with Sheeran’s life and fate. He only becomes more prominent as the film goes to show why he is important to the world and Sheeran. The version of Jimmy Hoffa in The Irishman might best be described as “Hoffa the rock star.” When he is trying to describe Hoffa’s great fame, Sheerhan compares him to Elvis Presley and The Beatles. Most of what we see Hoffa do for work as president of the Teamsters isn’t things like sign up new members or organize strikes. Instead, he does things that rock stars do, like perform in front of crowds of adoring supporters (although he recites speeches instead of singing) or conduct interviews with the press. Those scenes of him giving speeches feel like rock concerts, and sometimes his supporters even chant his name like he was their favorite artist, which leads Pacino to dance as many famous musicians do when faced with the love of their followers (albeit with simpler choreography than the average rock star because he was 77 when he played Hoffa). Like many rock stars, a key element of Hoffa’s personality is his charisma. It enables him to charm multiple characters ranging from Sheeran’s daughter Peggy (Lucy Gallina as a child and Anna Paquin as an adult) to mob boss Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci), and especially Sheeran himself. His magnetism and the way he helps his friends (he encourages Sheeran to become the president of a Teamsters local in addition to temporarily helping him have a better relationship with Peggy) helps give you an idea of why he became such a powerful man, and why so many people got caught up in his web to the extent that they did. This is not to say that the Hoffa of The Irishman is just a likeable man who is devoted to the simple things in life, like his friends and ice cream (although he frequently eats and enjoys it, just like the real Hoffa). He is also given to moments of rage that are familiar to fans of Pacino. In one of my favorite scenes, he rails against his associates for allowing a general organizer to sell insurance to his father’s locals. I’ve seen it at least a dozen times, and Pacino’s performance is just as enthralling every time. He insults his lieutenants, hands gesticulating passionately and with purpose as he describes what they did, until he becomes so angry that he stops talking in mid-speech. He practically crumples at what he considers to be his associates’ stupidity, taking a moment to rest as if they’ve exhausted him, before resuming his rant until he becomes so angry that he hits the table in front of him twice. That tendency to give in to rages against people who he feels have crossed him is one of his greatest weaknesses, as is his inability to recognize that he is vulnerable. In a latter scene, Hoffa hears a veiled threat from Sheeran that he might get killed. His face contorts in confusion, and he replies, “they wouldn’t dare” before he confidently tells Sheeran that he’s not in danger. Hoffa’s sense of indestructibility, and the too-much faith he places in his own importance, is the dark side of his portrayal as a rock star. While this film’s depiction of Hoffa tries to stick to the historical record (and Pacino rose to the task by listening to recordings of him giving speeches on set right until he heard the call for “action”), it is also indebted to the artistic interests of its director. The Irishman is the latest in a long line of films Martin Scorsese has made in which a level-headed guy tries and fails to save his hot-headed best friend. Scorsese’s interpretation of Hoffa is reminiscent of his other fiery men who practically run around asking for punishment, like Johnny Boy from Mean Streets (1973) or any character Pesci played for him in the 1990s. You could imagine all of them having a loud and enjoyable dinner before getting into an explosive argument over who’s going to pay the check. That type of conflict – a rational man trying and failing to save a beloved yet volatile rogue – is a personal one for Scorsese. In Martin Scorsese: A Retrospective, author Tom Shone writes that Scorsese had a paternal uncle named Joey, “a colorful loudmouth” who “…was always in trouble of some sort, always in debt to some mobster he had borrowed money from,” with the result that the young Scorsese spent years listening to “…a lot of family sit-downs to make sure Joey wasn’t killed by the Mob.” Scorsese thus recreates this primal conflict in the relationship between Sheeran and Hoffa. In addition, the climactic action of the film is a betrayal, which is something that has fascinated Scorsese for his entire life and been depicted in his work since his days as a graduate student at NYU when he made his underrated and hilarious crime short It’s Not Just You, Murray! All these things make Scorsese’s depiction of Hoffa as much a window into what fascinates him as an artist as it is a portrait of a historical figure. Scorsese’s take on Hoffa is a far cry from how another director depicted him in a prominent film. In contrast to the portrait of him in The Irishman, in which he is the president of the Teamsters and spends more time giving speeches than organizing workers, Danny DeVito’s biopic Hoffa (1992) spends a good portion of its running time following his rise to become president. The focus here is less on the relationships that Hoffa (Jack Nicholson) has with gangsters (to the extent that DeVito refers to the gangsters with whom Hoffa does business on the DVD commentary as being a part of “the organization” instead of the Mafia or even the Mob) and more on him as a fighter for working people. Scorsese’s Hoffa is a man with whom you’d like to have a beer. DeVito’s Hoffa is a man who you’d want to salute. DeVito’s film depicts a version of its titular character that I like to call “Hoffa the hero.” This is fitting since DeVito told an interviewer that he thought that Hoffa was heroic in an interview shortly before the film’s release. “He put bread on the table of the working man. That to me is a hero,” DeVito said. To that end, DeVito and screenwriter David Mamet include many scenes of Hoffa fighting on behalf of working people. Whether it’s changing a tire for a driver as he gives him his pitch for why he should join the Teamsters, leading a march in defiance of his superiors in the union and the wishes of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, or comforting the mother of a slain Teamster, DeVito spares no effort to depict his protagonist as an authentic working-class hero. Nicholson leans into this side of the character in his performance. While his version of Hoffa isn’t perfect (he frequently uses homophobic and anti-Italian slurs much like Pacino’s Hoffa), he captures what DeVito saw as his commanding presence and passion for improving the lives of working people. Nicholson also does a very accurate impression of Hoffa’s voice (albeit one that slips every now and again) and looks a lot like him, even without the help of some old age makeup (“dig those jowls,” as DeVito says on the DVD commentary) that he wears later in the film. He may lack the sheer charisma of Pacino’s performance, but Nicholson delivers exactly what you’d expect from a biopic which seeks to valorize Hoffa as a hero of organized labor. Hoffa might seem like the odd film out in DeVito’s body of work as a director up until that point in time. He had previously directed Throw Momma from the Train (1987) and The War of the Roses (1989), both black comedies that focus more on making you laugh than want to shake a union organizer’s hand. But Hoffa does reflect DeVito’s artistic interests, just as The Irishman did for Scorsese. His positive portrayal of Hoffa reflects his own labor-based politics, which in more recent years have led him to support Bernie Sanders and Jeremy Corbyn. While DeVito says on the DVD commentary that some of the deals Hoffa made were “very extreme,” he goes on to note that “you can do anything for the furtherment of the cause,” and that sense of being willing to do whatever is necessary to achieve something important feels like a justification for the great lengths that the protagonists of his previous films had gone to achieve their goals, such as getting rid of a reviled mother or an annoying spouse. While Hoffa isn’t a comedy, it does end with a punchline that is as dark as anything DeVito put in his previous two films. Hoffa associate Bobby Ciaro (a fictionalized character played by DeVito) tells a Teamster trucker credited only as Young Kid (Frank Whaley), who is grateful to him for helping him, to go thank Hoffa instead. Composer David Newman’s score swells sentimentally as Young Kid slowly walks towards Hoffa, like he’s going to meet his hero and thank him on behalf of all Teamsters for what he has done for the union. But instead, Young Kid whips out a gun and murders Hoffa, whose body (along with that of a murdered Ciaro) is taken away in a truck. It’s an ignominious ending for Hoffa the hero, but it is also one that is totally in keeping with DeVito’s artistic voice. Since these films bear the artistic stamps of both Scorsese and DeVito, you might wonder how Hoffa would have told his life story in his own way. He did, but not in the form of a film. Instead, Hoffa helped create an autobiography that was ghostwritten by journalist Oscar Fraley, who had done most of the work in writing Elliot Ness’s book The Untouchables. Fraley conducted extensive interview sessions with Hoffa and finished it after he disappeared. Their book bears the promising yet self-serving title of Hoffa: The Real Story. It follows its titular protagonist from his childhood until shortly before his disappearance. A major goal of Hoffa: The Real Story (which is written in the first-person from Hoffa’s perspective) is to provide readers with what its authors seemed to have hoped would be an honest portrait of “Hoffa the man.” This is clear from the punchy quote mid-way through the book that he “wrote this book because I’m going to have my say, and I’m damned well going to say what I think.” That leads to part of the appeal of the book, which is the punchy language created by Hoffa in collaboration with Fraley. He writes that his enemy, former Special Counsel to President Nixon Charles Colson, “proved himself to be a no-good liar. Because he’s no good and no good at lying…” He goes on to remark that when he saw a hated foreman get angry, he thought “hopefully, that he was going to have a heart attack.” He refers to prison as “hell on earth, only hell couldn’t be this bad.” Though Hoffa repeatedly denies that he is linked to organized crime (despite knowing gangsters), his pulpy language helps his autobiography feel like a true crime book. Indeed, it seems that Hoffa intended it that way, but with him as the victim of a crime instead of a perpetrator. Hoffa’s hate-filled relationship with Robert F. Kennedy was depicted in The Irishman (he frequently calls him “Booby” and he’s played by an understated Jack Huston) as well as Hoffa (in which he has more screentime and is played by a sneering Kevin Anderson). But it’s hard to get the full measure of Hoffa’s hatred for the man until you read Hoffa: The Real Story. The chapter where he first meets him is called “The Spoiled Brat.” In it, Hoffa writes that when he first encountered Kennedy (when he was counsel for the McClelland committee) he tried to get documents from him when he was in a meeting. Hoffa, angered that someone would interrupt him, “shoved him back into the hallway so hard that he almost fell down.” Later in this chapter, after Kennedy has repeatedly annoyed Hoffa, he calls him to his hotel room. After interrogating him, he suggests that they arm wrestle. Hoffa goes on to beat Kennedy in two consecutive arm-wrestling matches and writes that “I’m damned certain in my heart that Robert F. Kennedy became my mortal enemy that night.” It is stories like that–unverifiable, petty, and downright bizarre–which ironically helps make Hoffa’s autobiography feel like the most unlikeable and arrogant representation of him out of the three considered here. All his stories make him out to be the hero who has done nothing wrong. He’s simply a victim of bad luck (a running gag consists of people arresting him for no reason during his organizing days) and the ambitions of Robert F. Kennedy, who he insults with a wide variety of terms such as “vicious bastard” and “greedy little rich kid.” But Hoffa’s stories also reveal character failings and prejudices which he doesn’t address. When describing his aborted first date with his future wife Jo, he notes that it turned into a disaster when he honked his car for her to leave the house, like Kyle (Timothée Chalamet) in Lady Bird (2017). He also notes that, when he was in Lewisberg prison and tried to organize the prisoners to reform it, he refused to include complaints about racial and ethnic discrimination when he went to the warden. “We’re not here to talk about discrimination. We’re here to get the prison straightened out for everybody,” Hoffa said. His more problematic side is confirmed by Fraley in his epilogue, in which he noted that his co-writer supported capital punishment, opposed gun control, and busing, and believed that you could make cities safer if you could “crack down on the hoodlums; shoot their asses off.” Despite his attempts to win the reader over to his side, complete with quotations of news articles that are friendly to him and critical of Kennedy, the real Hoffa – violent, boorish, and petty – can’t help but be less likeable than the ones played by Pacino and Nicholson. Hoffa continues to linger on in popular culture, both because of what he achieved while he was alive and the ongoing mystery of his fate. There are plenty of books that try to find out what happened to him and, late as June 2022, the FBI was still pursuing leads related to the case. But it is Hoffa’s pro-union life, and what he built despite the charges of corruption and his own personal failings, that continue to resonate because we live in a period of renewed interest in and approval of unions. A recent poll showed that Americans approval of unions is at its highest point since 1965. Millions of people are joining them or starting ones at companies such as Starbucks. More recently, the Teamsters are about to conduct massive contract talks with UPS on behalf of 330,000 workers it represents. At a time like this, as workers try to assert their rights, it can be useful for them to look at previous representations of Hoffa in popular culture for inspiration. They can learn how to inspire a crowd with sheer charisma like Pacino’s Hoffa, or about the basics of organizing from Nicholson’s Hoffa. But perhaps most importantly, they can learn what not to do from the real Hoffa. View the full article

The late Cormac McCarthy, widely regarded as the literary heir to Herman Melville and William Faulkner, a traditionalist in a sea of deconstructionists, had a flair for violence. Sometimes he boiled everything down to the brutal essentials. From his novel “No Country for Old Men”: “Chigurh stepped into the doorway and shot him in the throat with a load of number ten shot. The size collectors use to take bird specimens. The man fell back through his swivel-chair knocking it over and went to the floor and lay there twitching and gurgling. Chigurh picked up the smoking shotgun shell from the carpet and put it in his pocket and walked into the room with the pale smoke still drifting from the canister fitted to the end of the sawed-off barrel.” And sometimes he went more baroque. From one of the more famous sequences in “Blood Meridian,” in which a tribe of Native Americans butcher a legion of hapless soldiers of fortune: “A legion of horribles, hundreds in number, half naked or clad in costumes attic or biblical or wardrobed out of a fevered dream with the skins of animals and silk finery and pieces of uniform still tracked with the blood of prior owners, coats of slain dragoons, frogged and braided cavalry jackets, one in a stovepipe hat and one with an umbrella and one in white stockings and a bloodstained weddingveil…” Whatever the action, he gave it weight and texture. McCarthy’s style, light on punctuation but heavy on the conjunctions, sprinkled with the occasional sentence fragment and anachronistic word, is simultaneously reminiscent of a Biblical text and an old-school noir novel; think Deuteronomy meets Jim Thompson. His early books were steeped in Southern Gothic; as he progressed through the decades, he shifted West for his masterworks (“Blood Meridian” and the Border Trilogy), his prose increasingly lean. His last two books, “The Passenger” and “Stella Maris,” coalesced these literary forms; the former is dense and heartfelt, occasionally galactic in scope, while the latter is a pure dialogue of ideas that ends on a nihilistic note. Attempting to analyze McCarthy’s work through the lens of ‘crime fiction’ is an interesting exercise. His books were saturated with ‘crime’ in the most primal sense: murder, theft, baby-eating, massacre and genocide. “There’s no such thing as life without bloodshed,” McCarthy told The New York Times in 1992. “I think the notion that the species can be improved in some way, that everyone could live in harmony, is a really dangerous idea. Those who are afflicted with this notion are the first ones to give up their souls, their freedom. Your desire that it be that way will enslave you and make your life vacuous.” Crime fiction also revolves on the axis of crime and punishment, law and outlaw—but even in his most grounded novels, McCarthy wasn’t interested in the niceties of societal justice. The marauders of “Blood Meridian” pillage with impunity until more savage forces tear them apart; the police in “Child of God” are little more than a cleanup crew once the full scope of the protagonist’s horror is revealed; the cops who scurry through “No Country for Old Men” are powerless before the ruthlessness of Anton Chigurh, a professional hitman and fixer who pontificates about fate before murdering people; and in “The Road,” set in a post-apocalyptic America coated with ash, the laws and tenets of the old world are a fading dream. Much of crime fiction is obsessed with balance: the forces of law and order win, or at least the guilty get what’s coming to them. The arc of McCarthy’s literary universe bends not toward justice but something far darker. In “Blood Meridian,” man is described as the “ultimate practitioner” of war, the “ultimate trade.” War, in the book’s context, isn’t the orderly movement of troops around a field—it’s slaughter and pillage, much of it conducted on territory where burning down a village and killing its inhabitants for their scalps is considered just another Tuesday. Humanity perfected violence, and violence pushed humanity onto a merciless evolutionary path: Sheriff Bell, the old-fashioned lawman in “No Country for Old Men,” laments that a man he sent the death row “wasn’t nothin compared to what was comin down the pike.” That incomparable force is Anton Chigurh, not so much a psychopath as a human tailored to his environment. Among McCarthy’s rogues, he’s matched by the Judge, the giant killer genius at the heart of “Blood Meridian,” and Malkina, the antagonist (or perhaps the protagonist?) of “The Counselor,” a 2013 film written by McCarthy and directed by Ridley Scott. They’re all apex predators; the only laws that matter to them are the most primal ones. With “The Passenger,” the longer of his final two-book salvo, McCarthy starts out with the trappings of a conspiracy thriller. A plane has crashed into the Gulf of Mexico, and a passenger onboard is missing, along with an instrument panel and the pilot’s flight-bag; one of the divers sent to survey the wreck, Bobby Western, soon finds himself pursued by mysterious government men. It seems like McCarthy’s setting up a tense chase along the lines of “No Country for Old Men,” but then the narrative… trails off. Instead of pursuits and gunfights, we’re treated to long, digressive conversations about everything from nuclear physics to the JFK assassination. In the months since the book’s release, theories about this narrative drift have proliferated across the internet. Perhaps the story is actually Bobby Western’s coma dream (it certainly plays like a dream at moments); perhaps McCarthy performed the ultimate flex of the world-famous writer: using a narrative as a thin pretense to talk about the things that interest him. Whatever the motive, crime fiction aficionados heading into “The Passenger” expecting a thriller were treated to something radically different. “The Passenger” (and to a smaller extent, “Stella Maris”) also offers a counterbalance to the darkness and nihilism that dominated so many of McCarthy’s previous narratives. It’s a cruel and violent world, the books suggest, but love among family, among friends, is what sustains us through it: “He knew that on the day of his death he would see her face and he could hope to carry that beauty into the darkness with him, the last pagan on earth, singing softly upon his pallet in an unknown tongue.” It’s our solace among the bloodshed. View the full article

As a young child, my favorite activity involved going into my make-believe laboratory (a.k.a. the bathroom) and experimenting with powerful potions (empty shampoo bottles and such filled with water and soap). My big sister and I had a game we never spoke of. She would stand outside the door I’d left ajar and spy on me. I would stage-whisper to myself, “This will kill her, and she won’t even know how I did it!” A few years later, I got hooked on comic books. One that blew my mind was a mega-sized anthology of classic horror stories. It was printed like a comic book, but definitely foreshadowed what would later be known as graphic novels. It included comic book versions of the Invisible Man, the Wolf Man, Frankenstein, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Stevenson’s novella was published the year following the 1885 passage of the Labouchere Amendment in the United Kingdom. The Amendment made “gross indecency”—defined as any homosexual acts—a crime. From my early “experiments,” I was already primed for a mad scientist narrative. It wasn’t until reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde years later that I realized how deeply his theme of the double resonated with me. Stevenson’s novella was published the year following the 1885 passage of the Labouchere Amendment in the United Kingdom. The Amendment made “gross indecency”—defined as any homosexual acts—a crime. No less of a great artist than Oscar Wilde was persecuted and imprisoned because of Labouchere, ten years after its passage, and Alan Turing, esteemed World War II codebreaker and the acclaimed father of theoretical computer science and Artificial Intelligence was chemically castrated in 1952 after being convicted of breaking this cruel law. The U.K. didn’t “pardon” any of those persecuted till 2017, under the “Alan Turing Law.” No wonder “the closet” existed then and persists today. Imagine what it would feel like to have to hide an essential part of yourself, or risk public humiliation, loss of livelihood, prison time, and worse. Wouldn’t you feel as if you were living a double life? In the preface to my novella The Uncanny Case of Gilles/Jeannette, a modern gothic gender transition story inspired by Stevenson’s iconic characters, I note that there has long been speculation about Stevenson’s sexuality. Was he a queer man who explored the State-imposed duality of his life through his allegorical masterpiece? Curious, I dug deeper to discover the actual date of the law’s passage: August 14, 1885. According to Stevenson biographer Frank McLynn, most of the writing was done in September and October of 1885. The novella’s publication date was January 5, 1886. Could this have played into the extreme urgency with which Stevenson felt driven to write this story? You do the math. Although his sexuality cannot be “proven,” one thing is sure. Jekyll and Hyde has become short-hand for split personality, double life. It’s a trope queer people know quite well. The terror of the closet has long kept us leading double lives. This month is Gay Pride and like all Prides past, the celebrations are a mix of joy and sorrow. Yes, it is wonderful how far we’ve come, but given the way queer people, and Trans youth in particular are being viciously targeted by legislative hate campaigns, we are still living with targets on our backs. Consider the bill (SB 458) passed in Montana in May, 2023, which states: “a person’s sex can be only male or female” and “they are defined based on gamete size and chromosomes,” and finally that “one’s sex cannot be changed and the ‘subjective experience of gender’ is not important for the application of the law.” How different is that from the Labouchere language of 1885 which deemed sexual activities between two people of the same gender as “gross indecency?” The goal of all these horrific laws is to chase queers back into the closet, and ultimately erase or exterminate the ones who come out. Section eleven of the Labouchere Act sentences anyone guilty of “gross indecency” to two years of hard labor. Right now, 138 years later, the American Civil Liberties Union is tracking 491 anti-LGBTQ bills across the U.S., many of which mandate jail time and other punitive measures. The indecency of this vicious campaign speaks for itself. The question is: Why? Jekyll and Hyde gives us a classic literary answer. When a person is cut off from their “indecent urges” (as judged by society and/or the courts), they are forced to create an alternate identity, one couched in secrecy. Mr. Hyde is a literal creation of Dr. Jekyll’s alter-ego—a set-up so resonant now, we see it everywhere, especially in fantasy and sci-fi genres, where characters are forced to physically transform themselves due to “social norms” imposed on them. The moral of the story still applies, too. Dr. Jekyll was unable to understand his own urges, just like many anti-queer politicians are unable to recognize their own motives. In recent years, legislative homophobes turned out to be men who have sex with men, including Minneapolis Senator Larry Craig, Michigan State Representative Todd Courser, and many others. The list goes on and on. These tormented men were compelled to torment others because free expression of sexuality and gender held a mirror up to them. If they’d read and learned from Stevenson’s classic story, they’d have looked in that mirror, seen hidden aspects of themselves and even loved those rejected parts. There’d be no hate and no chilling laws like the ones Stevenson saw being enacted in his day. Today, anti-queer legislation is fueled by a similar lack of self-understanding—and a fear of anything “transformed” beyond “social norms.” That’s how Mr. Hyde and the Labouchere Act are lurking behind hundreds of repressive legislative acts proposed today. I wrote The Uncanny Case of Gilles/Jeannette to modernize a Jekyll and Hyde-style tale and reflect the torturous conditions for LGBT people in the 21st century. In the story, Ella and Simone are working through the complexities that have arisen in their long-term relationship, since Simone began transitioning to Simon. But this is just the present-day framing story. When Ella inherits an old family Inn in Hudson, she and Simon move upstate from Brooklyn. In the basement she discovers a diary that tells the mad tale of Jeannette and Gilles. When Jeannette, grieving the recent death of her father cannot win the love of her friend Dahlia, she descends into her father’s laboratory and creates a serum that turns her into a man. This man, Gilles, however turns out to be a charming, murderous monster—one that Jeannette cannot control. The old tale is set in 1933, the height of the Great Depression. My previous crime novel Jazzed took place a decade earlier, during a time that was loose and free—the Jazz Age—but also a time when the hypocritical social forces were fighting hard to keep the country homogenized. Eugenics played a large part in that story. My new novella is set during the oppressive Prohibition era, and one year before the Hollywood Hays code goes into effect. Before Hays, at least queer people could see some reflection of themselves on the screen, even if stereotypical (though often quite sexy)! After Hays, queers were erased from the screen until the code was lifted in 1954. I learned about the Hays code through The Celluloid Closet, a 1981 book by Vito Russo who died of AIDS at age 44. Russo’s book is one of the two nonfiction books that have had the greatest impact on me. The other is futurist Ray Kurzweil’s The Singularity is Near which, back in 2005, predicted that artificial intelligence will surpass human intelligence and pass the Turing Test by 2029, and by 2045, humans will merge with the very artificial intelligence we’ve created. Isn’t it truly a horror tale, how important the “Turing Test” has become today—with the very recent rise of ChatGPT and hundreds of other AI applications—when in his own era, Turing was medically tortured for his sexuality? Much the way there is AI hysteria in the air, and people fear that the non-human “other” will make them obsolete, queer-haters in American politics are equally hysterical (and not in a gay old way!) about trans people whom they also view as non-human and “other.” They fear that by allowing trans people to even exist they will be signing away their own powers, and their own relevance. Stevenson had it right when he showed us that Jekyll and Hyde were both the same person. There is no evil “other,” only ourselves we see mirrored in others. We can either accept ourselves completely, and turn shame into self-compassion, or project that hate onto others and fight to take away their rights and very lives. Or perhaps that is a little too righteous and binary. In the name of a classic horror story, how about we all take one small step to just consider this idea, and act accordingly, with decency? *** View the full article

What is it about being alone in the woods that’s so frightening? Is it a fear of predators, disorientation, or a sense of vulnerability? What about the inability to call for help or a fear of the unknown? Or, what if the most pulse-pounding element is simply your imagination, feeding off a lifetime of consuming thrillers set in the deep, dark woods? Growing up, I spent my summers at a lakeside cabin situated a few miles down a narrow dirt road. Once the car bounced off the pavement onto the gravel and houses gave way to a dense forest, it felt as if I entered a different world. I relished the campfire tales and late-night walks to the pitch-black cemetery situated unsettlingly close to our cabin. My imagination ran wild and unfettered out there. A snap of a branch sent my heart pounding. An animal’s claws clicking on a brick path had me cowering under the covers. In a secluded and lonely little cabin, rational thoughts seemed to slip away as darkness fell. Cut off from people and communication – to this day, there’s no internet connection, and good luck getting a cell signal – it was easy to conjure nail-biting scenarios. Those nights filled me with a love of all things scary, but as I got older, the isolation of our cabin in the woods brought out new fears in me. Gone were days of looking for ghost lights in the cemetery. Now, I peered nervously into other empty cabins and wondered, who could help me if something happened? It was that thought, and that setting, that eventually morphed into an idea for my debut thriller, The Three Deaths of Willa Stannard. When journalist Willa Stannard is found dead from an apparent suicide, her sister Sawyer knows it’s not possible. Sawyer plunges into a desperate search for the truth and learns Willa was writing a true crime book about the decades-old disappearance of a toddler in a small lakeside community. She begins to trace her sister’s steps, deep into a community she can’t begin to understand and to a truth that could destroy her as easily as it did Willa. When writing The Three Deaths of Willa Stanard, I knew I wanted to incorporate an isolated lakeside cottage not unlike the one where I spent my summers as a kid. Sawyer’s investigation takes her to a tiny cabin on a dead-end road with few neighbors. When a child goes missing from a place like this, there’s only one road out, but miles of forest and lake. Juxtaposed with a dual setting in Chicago, the remoteness of the woods is starker. The main character feels as if she’s entered a different world, where she can rely on only herself for help. In that way, the setting can become its own character. It makes an indelible mark on the story. The plot couldn’t march forward the way it does without the eerie isolation of the woods. Here are five thrillers that use a secluded, wooded setting to lead you into dark tales. In the Woods by Tana French In the summer of 1984, three children don’t return home from the dark and silent woods bordering their neighborhood. Police find only one child, gripping a tree trunk in terror, unable to remember any details of the previous hours. Twenty years later, that same boy is a detective who finds himself investigating the murder of a young girl found in the woods – a case eerily similar to the one haunting his past. In this small Dublin town, the woods tie together the past and present, and the setting adds to the moody, shivery darkness of IN THE WOODS. The Troop by Nick Cutter Each year, Scoutmaster Tim Riggs leads a troop of boys into the wilderness for a camping trip. But when an extremely thin and voraciously hungry intruder stumbles into their camp, Scoutmaster Riggs and the boys are exposed to something more frightening than a campfire tale. Set on a remote island off the coast of Prince Edward Island, horror/thriller The Troop takes wilderness survival to a new level. Deliverance by James Dickey On a remote white-water river, four men embark on a canoe trip. What starts as these middle-aged men’s last chance for an adventure on a river that’s scheduled to be damned into a reservoir quickly becomes a fight for survival when their party is attacked. What follows is an action-packed, at times violent, tale of survival. James Dickey’s incredibly descriptive writing brings the Georgia wilderness to life. Perhaps even more spellbinding than its cinematic adaptation, this 1970 debut novel is a riveting ride into the beauty and deadliness of the woods. Final Girls by Riley Sager Quincy Carpenter is the sole survivor of a mass murder at a remote cabin in the woods. Branded a “final girl” by the press, she buries her trauma. But when another final girl, a survivor of a sorority house massacre, dies by apparent suicide, Quincy is forced to confront her spotty memories of that fateful night. The flashbacks to Pine Cottage are reminiscent of scenes from classic horror movies: a secluded cabin in the Poconos, a gaggle of college-age kids, an attacker, and a bloody run through the woods. Final Girls plays off the slasher-in-the-woods trope, and it delivers a twisty, gripping story of surviving an attack while isolated in the woods. The Woods Are Always Watching by Stephanie Perkins High school graduates Josie and Neena embark on a three-day backpacking trip before their looming separation. The girls are novice campers, underprepared and uneasy with the wooded terrain. When they take an off-trail detour, they realize a predator is lurking deep in the forest. Set in the Pisgah National Forest of the Blue Ridge Mountains, The Woods Are Always Watching offers vivid descriptions that immerse the reader in the terrifying isolation of a backpacking trail where evil watches from the shadows. *** View the full article

Algonkian Writer Conferences reviews two of the most troll-heavy "reviews" ever encountered by its staff, or for that matter, humans still alive in the 21st century. Algonkian Park in Northern Virginia might be described as a lush and calming act of forest rubbing shoulders with the Potomac River, and it was here, twenty-two years ago, that Algonkian Writer Conferences began with a small workshop of five writers. Since then, the grand majority of my own experiences with many hundreds of my fellow writers have been rewarding, and I can truthfully say I've played a productive role in assisting many to secure both agent and publisher contracts. However, during this same time, as Algonkian evolved with new faculty (both agents and publishing house editors) and fresh-rooted into New York and California, the relatively benign flow of interactions could be compromised on rare occasion by something unexpected, and quite frankly, a bit lunatic. Below are a couple of meandering tales that unfortunately fit under the rubric of Algonkian Writer Conference reviews, and as such, are so incredibly bad I never would have believed them possible had I not lived them from first howl to final tantrum. ________________ A Mad Hatter Out for Blood Twelve years ago, in Marin County, I received a phone call at 3 AM on a weekday. Bleary and puzzled, I picked up the landline phone to hear the enraged voice of a popular author I knew in Faifax, Virginia. And what he said jolted me into a shocked awakening. "Who the f**k are they?" he began, yelling into the phone. "They're lying about me, about you... the bastards! Who the f**k are they?" Since I had zero idea who or what had launched him screaming from the silo, I finally calmed him enough to extract an unexpected and jaw-dropping explanation. He'd set up a Google alert to inform him any time his name was indexed and published by the search engine, and that morning at 6 AM EST, an alert led him to a particular thread on a certain writer chat board (remaining nameless due to my reluctance to provide said board with thousands more visitors). And what did this disguised floating blip say that could have turned a mature and regarded literary author and full-time MFA professor into a mad hatter out for blood? Within only a few minutes of reading what an anonymous poster had said about him on this thread, he was persuaded to contact me. And what did this disguised floating blip say that could have turned a mature and regarded literary author and full-time MFA professor into a mad hatter out for blood? But first, a little scene set. Picture your browser window filled with a dull, grey-white background and blocks of typed narrative in a small black font. To the top left of each posted block, residing in its own narrow column, you see the icon and alleged name of the poster, plus info like date joined, etc. Typical chat board layout. Now, for the one in question. You zoom in on the icon and witness a bubbly vibrating fairy. To the right, you read the blocks of text this fidgeting blip as typed. You see "Algonkian Writer Conferences" and something about an upcoming reveal that "will finally tell the truth about this organization stocked with literary frauds and flying sock monkeys!" Flying sock monkeys? It took over a year of investigation, but Algonkian staff discovered the identity of the primary abusers. They operated a competitor writer event in the northeast. No big surprise there. For starters, the primary instigator of this massive fraud, Michael Neff (who else?)--in order to make his workshops seem more credible--willfully assisted a local author and college professor to spread a huge lie about winning a certain national literary award for one of his books. Not only that, but the flying sock monkeys that ran Algonkian really didn't feature actual faculty. They were just "driven around in limousines" for a few hours, but never met with anyone. Also, our staff were "waiting at bus stops for dazed MFA grads" to arrive home so we could trick them into taking these workshops with limousine-lounging faculty. I'm not kidding. Not a bit. To make a long and ugly story short, the author noted above went on the chat board in question and began a roaring argument with the anonymous tribal members, most of whom resembled beasts or cyborgs. After a few days of wrangling and threats mixed with general acts of denigration and mockery on the part of all, the author finally produced evidence that indeed proved without doubt he had won said literary award, and no chicanery was involved in any way whatsoever. Despite his undeniable proof, the chat board owners refused to remove the post alleging his immoral act. Despite his undeniable proof, the chat board owners refused to remove the post alleging his immoral act. Following this, at least ten or so Algonkian writers who had learned of this ongoing farce via Facebook stormed the board and opened a new front to battle with the beasts and cyborgs. It must've lasted weeks, but at the conclusion, the chat board shills admitted no wrong and no mistakes. The accused were guilty, the evidence was irrelevant, and the lies multiplied even further. In truth, it was a precursor to the later cancel-culture mobs of Twitter. Regardless, the whole affair was exhausting, stupid, and pointless, only further serving to taint the integrity of the human race. It took over a year of investigation, but Algonkian staff discovered the identity of the primary abusers. They operated a competitor writer event in the northeast. No big surprise there. The surprise lay in the fact that the vibrating fantasy blip was actually a well-known editor at a major publishing house who loved playing a roving assassin on various chat boards, not just the one noted here. Also, one of the meanest of the board trolls who ran a close second to the aforementioned blip turned out to be a popular literary agent in New York who also ran a blog that worked 24/7 to insult and cancel everyone she didn't like. No surprise there either. And still, not kidding. To this day, none of them have ever apologized for intentionally lying about that author or for my alleged involvement. Both of these accusations, and more, were acts of per se defamation and therefore legally actionable in civil court, but given the locations of the parties, the cost involved, and additional fallout issues involving the blip's publisher, we let it go. I've often regretted that decision. ______________ The "Terrified One" Smears Far and Wide Unlike the case above, this one manifested like ash fall on Pompey prior to inundation. It began with incessant phone calls and messages to staff over the course of several weeks from just one person who we finally determined would never be satisfied with reality as it presented itself. Did people at conference workshops sit in circles? Did they sit in half-circles? Did they stand? Sit? Why sitting? Why not a theater-seating kind of arrangement? Why not this? That? And on and on. Then things got weird. Rejected and free of restraints, The Terrified One transmogrified into the hysterically raging one, and the world was her playground. One of our staff people was trying to help this individual and reaching wit's end. Towards the conclusion of these interactions, the staff person was accused of "terrifying her" with her communications. I looked over the mails and saw absolutely nothing to indicate a hostile or "terrifying" attitude, only a weary human being attempting to help someone desperately striving to acquire a new victim culture medal. A final email was sent by staff to The Terrified One: I offered to help you but you chose to become "terrified" though I did nothing to terrify you. Best to reconsider and perhaps some other time. It's not good to approach an event like this with fear and major doubts, and wondering whether or not people sit in circles, or whether you have to be a public speaker, etc. etc. It's just not worth it. Effectively disallowed from attending the actual event (because we all knew that an appearance by this person would certainly result in even more complaints and self-martyrdom) The Terrified One transmogrified into a Nemesis with a holy mission. The fact of this wasn't a shock, however, the sheer relentlessness of the retribution could not have been predicted. Rejected and free of restraints, The Terrified One transmogrified into the hysterically raging one, and the world was her playground. Nowadays, it's easier to quickly get a court order to force the social media source to divulge information about the user, thus enabling legal action, but back at the time, such action was far more laborious. The rest is a footnote of a footnote in history. TTO posted screeds of rage, alleging all manner of nefarious intent (nearly identical to the absurdities noted above, thus hinting at direct inspiration) and preposterously conceived fraud on several chat boards, Facebook, Twitter, you name it. Various childish identities were employed over the course of weeks, but the source was obvious. Nowadays, it's easier to quickly get a court order to force the social media source to divulge information about the user, thus enabling legal action, but back at the time, such action was far more laborious. Most of the offending revenge posts evaporated over time and one or two are left, rising and sinking in the SERPs depending on the nature of the algorithm. Damned if we did, and damned if we didn't. _____

The New York Write to Pitch reviews, bullet by bullet, what makes the conference especially valuable to writers in terms of development, craft, and market guidance. See the NYWP e-Book below for an example. "New York Write to Pitch 2023: Development Guideposts and Crucial Craft Prior to Novel Pitching" Amazon Page Free Kindle Reader As noted on Amazon, this is a compilation of important articles, notes, and studies drawn from the conference pre-event schedule. The e-book addresses the vital core points that will be discussed in the context of each writer's novel-in-progress. From relatively simple matters of proper title choice to polished interior monologue, it's all here. Examples of Content as Follows - Do not join a local or online writer group, however socially alluring it may be, and regardless of what its apostles tell you. Don't fall for it. We know, it feels like the right thing because so many recommend it, but it's the wrong thing by a lightyear... Review carefully our notes on this crucial and controversial subject... - Aspire to be a great genre author? Why not? But what's your high concept?... If you fail to grasp the vital importance of this second question, you will fail to conceive much less write a publishable genre novel - thriller, mystery, fantasy, horror, crime, SF, you name it. Just not going to happen. - The above diverse examples define classic drama that creates conflict with real stakes. Note too that each of these hook lines contains what we refer to as the CORE WOUND. Important! Especially if you intend to become commercially published. If you cannot make the stakes of your novel clear via a properly written hook line, the odds are you don't have any. We must address this now... Bullet points in this chapter : Issues of The Hook: Protagonist Intro - Antagonist First? - Inciting Incident - Extreme Importance of Setting - Establishment of Characters - The MacGuffin - In Media Res - Crucial Sympathy Factors - Something Bad Happens - Exposition - Theme? What needs to be done from the start? Why is the hook of Act I critical to this novel and to being taken seriously as a writer? - What is Act Zero of the novel? Understand the issues below. This does not directly appear in the story except by use of flashback and via other methods to deliver exposition. Forces must already be in motion in order to create conflict for the characters... __________ From our blog post on the NYWP: The New York Write to Pitch was officially launched on June 1, 2022. It is a hybrid event combining the core elements of the New York Pitch Conference with new development and editorial content that addresses the many nuances of premise, plot, and prose narrative. As it notes on Publisher's Marketplace, "Development of the novel therefore becomes an issue of paramount concern. Why? Because you can't pitch a marketable novel unless and until you've written one." _________

Three months ago, I put together a list of the 19 scruffiest detectives in crime film and TV. I wrote in that list that “[t]he scruffy detective is one of the purest, most persistent tropes in the crime genre” and that is true. But such is also the case for the suave, polished detective! Crime fiction contains multitudes, what can I say? The gentleman sleuth character is deeply entrenched in the genre, going back to the 19th century. The archetype flourished during the Golden Age of detective fiction at the start of the 20th century, giving us countless well-heeled, refined sleuths ripe for adaptation to television and film. As I did with this list’s rumpled-focused companion, I decided to put together a list of some of the most iconic entrants in this category. As with its counterpart, it is not a comprehensive list! There are many more possibilities than the nineteen I have set down here. This list is a mere survey, a pleasing selection of the erudite, the elegant, the urbane and all-around dignified detectives of modern entertainment. And! As with my “Scruffy Detectives” list from days past, there are no “regular cops” on here—just detectives, of the amateur, private, and police variety. There are also no FBI or CIA agents on this list, just good ol’ gentlemen sleuths (a term which I say includes women!) When I think “suave detective,” I think of Trevor Howard in The Third Man This list is not ranked, because that would be extremely difficult. Why would I put myself through that? Rick Castle, Castle Bestselling author-cum-PI Richard Castle (Nathan Fillion) lives in a huge Soho loft, drives a convertible, and has a monthly poker game with James Patterson, Stephen J. Cannell, Michael Connelly, and Dennis Lehane. He’s a rock star of the crime fiction world, and this doesn’t mean he lives a debauched, sloppy life. Nope, he’s very put-together. He has the resources to be! Neal Caffrey, White Collar In White Collar, a show I love and will not hear slander about, Matt Bomer plays Neal Caffrey, a very, very suave conman/forger/racketeer/thief who sweet-talks his way into serving his out prison sentence by solving white-collar crimes with the FBI. He also gets the swankiest living situation of probably any person on this list (including you, Amos Burke). He winds up renting a top-floor studio apartment in a Riverside Drive mansion from an elegant, elderly widow (Diahann Caroll) who has a special place in her heart for sexy bad boys and who is happy to lend Neal her late husband’s wardrobe of Devore suits, skinny ties, and fedoras. Which allows Neal to spend his meager FBI salary on nice wines and art supplies. Perry van Shrike, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang In Shane Black’s Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Val Kilmer plays the extremely put-together, on-top-of-things PI Perry van Shrike, or “Gay Perry,” as his sort-of sidekick Harry Lockhart (Robert Downey Jr.) calls him. He wears suits very well, but his best outfit in the movie is actually the navy blue tracksuit he wears towards the end. Frank Pembleton, Homicide: Life on the Street Though audiences now might know the great Andre Braugher best for playing the extremely polished Captain Raymond Holt in Brooklyn 99. But in the 90s, he played the brilliant, Jesuit-schooled, Latin-and-Greek-reading, all-around-scholarly Frank Pembleton in Homicide. Frank Pembleton brought the brooding scholarly, gentlemanly detective back to the procedural, people! Will Trent, Will Trent The new TV show, based on Karin Slaughter’s Will Trent series, features Ramón Rodríguez as the dyslexic genius Will Trent, who overcomes the trauma of his past by striving for perfection, both professionally and sartorially. Adam Dalgliesh, Dalgliesh P.D. James’s poet-detective Adam Dalgliesh has been adapted to the screen many, many times, but I’m choosing Bertie Carvel’s recent characterization from Dalgliesh, the newish TV series starring Bertie Carvel that chronicles Dalgliesh’s career from the 70s onward. Philip Marlowe, The Big Sleep Elliott Gould’s Philip Marlowe might have made it onto the Scruffy Detectives list, but Humphrey Bogart’s is firmly on this list. Extremely well-dressed and refined, he bears greater resemblance to Chandler’s original characterization. Benoit Blanc, Knives Out & Glass Onion Daniel Craig’s Benoit Blanc is introduced to us in Knives Out as having been profiled in The New Yorker as “the last of the gentleman sleuths.” I rest my case, your honor. If you need further proof, look at his striped bespoke bathing costume in Glass Onion. Amos Burke, Burke’s Law Burke’s Law was a show from the 60s about an LAPD detective chief who also happened to be a millionaire. He lives in a mansion, wears tailored suits, and takes a chauffeured Rolls-Royce to work, even to crime scenes, which maybe was super cool in the 60s but is less so now. Virgil Tibbs, In the Heat of the Night No one in the whole world has ever been as suave as Sidney Poitier and this is a fact. Howard Rollins‘s Virgil Tibbs from the TV show adaptation of the same name is very suave, but there’s no out-suaveing Sidney. Honey West, Honey West Anne Francis stars in this classic high-tech PI show that ran from 1965 to 1966, about a woman who inherits her father’s detective business. Honey West is the coolest, most put-together person in all of 60s TV (an American, non-espionage equivalent of Diana Rigg’s Emma Peel from The Avengers). She knows martial arts, she has a pet ocelot, she has a male sidekick… she’s just cool. And there is never, ever one hair out of place. Lord Peter Wimsey, A Dorothy L. Sayers Mystery This series is not the only Wimsey adaptation out there, but if I have to pick one to emblematize the “polished” gentleman sleuth, I think I’ll go with the series that starred Edward Petherbridge as a staid, scholarly Peter Wimsey, rather than the one with Ian Carmichael, which features Wimsey as a little goofy and eccentric. Inspector Morse, Inspector Morse John Thaw’s Inspector Endeavour Morse is the epitome of the gentleman sleuth. Although he’s technically a working-class police detective, he has champagne tastes: he’s an opera-loving, classics-reading, crossword puzzle-solving Renaissance Man with a love of classic cars and authentic beers. Sgt (Lady) Harriet “Harry” Makepeace, Dempsey and Makepeace Dempsey and Makepeace was a classic British detective procedural featuring an odd-couple, opposites-attractive detective team featuring a tough, blue-collar Brooklynite NYPD officer and a refined English noblewoman who also happens to be an MPS detective sergeant. Makepeace (Glynis Barber) is elegant, clever, and circumspect (and obviously going to slowly fall in love with her new partner). Albert Campion, Campion Crime queen Margery Allingham’s Albert Campion novels have been adapted numerous times throughout the years, notably in a TV series in 1959 and longer one in 1989. I’m using the latter show as my reference point. Peter Davison plays Albert Campion, the aristocratic Englishman who helps the police solve difficult crimes. Remington Steele, Remington Steele I feel like I don’t even need to say anything about this one. I mean, duh. Laura Holt, Remington Steele Actually you know who else is absolutely RAVISHING? Laura Holt, the real “Remington Steele” behind Remington Steele. Let’s give her credit, please! DCI John Luther, Luther Idris Elba’s John Luther is an impossibly suave, imposingly confident detective—who always looks put-together even when his personal life is falling apart. That drip! As the kids say. Hercule Poirot, Poirot “I say, Poirot!” Yes, Hastings, you are correct. There have been many, many Poirots throughout film and TV history, but I’m giving David Suchet’s Hercule a spot on this list. In terms of charmingly vain punctiliousness of presentation, he’s the GOAT. This list isn’t ranked, but if it were, he’d be numéro un anyway. View the full article

This article covers the common symptoms of new and impatient novel writing. Algonkian Writer Conferences reviews this epidemic condition in a frank and direct manner. 1. NEOPHYTE SKILL SET AND A FAILURE TO COMPREHEND THE PROBLEM In the case of the former, we've found in our reviews that the prose itself fails to display the energy, creativity, suspense and cinema necessary to convince an agent to go deeper. This is perhaps the number one cause of failure, and the reason why veteran readers need not go further than a page or two of the manuscript. Usually, the writer is not aware of this condition--or at least, not sufficiently aware to enable productive change (another consequence of obtaining feedback from amateur writer groups. Perhaps this is a first stab at fiction, the aspiring author not realizing that tech or law or medical writing ill prepares one. Also, the writer does not know a truly experienced editor, or reader for that matter, and therefore reviews of their work are conducted without the benefit of nuanced and professional critique. Or perhaps an ego obstacle, a self-destructive narcissism is at play? Also, we have the "birthed baby" phenomenon: the writer has produced a passage, a character, or scene they can't possibly delete. It is sacred to them. So it remains, defacing the narrative like a major pothole, jolting agents and publishers alike each time they meet it. In the case of the storytelling issue, the writer may actually be accomplished at connecting the word dots, a decent if not accomplished prose stylist; however, the agent or publisher gives it a single review then backs off. Why? Well, the story goes nowhere. It is insufficiently interesting, too quiet, or perhaps even confusing. Just recently a fine writer handed us a sample of his ms. His prose skill kept us turning, but finally we bogged down on characters who spun endlessly in place, who never really took action or engaged in any reaction worth noting. ___________ NOTE: if you, the reader of this article, happen to be a year or two into the process of writing a first novel, strive to arrange a professional critique of your story premise and your first 50 pages at least. It shouldn't cost much and will be worth it in the long run. Do not rely on your writer group to provide the expertise necessary for a realistic evaluation. _____________ 2. FAILURE TO ADEQUATELY UNDERSTAND THE MARKET We are not talking about trend chasing... Virtually every time I speak with a student I discover that she or he has not sufficiently researched their market. In other words, they don't have a clue as to what types of first novels are currently being published in their chosen genre (assuming one is chosen). Why is this important? Because the first novels provide the writer with a concept of what the market is looking for. Also, it helps steer the writer away from starting a project that will be DOA on arrival due to being way too deja-vu or trope heavy. Far too many writers make the Tom Clancy mistake, i.e., they attempt to emulate a huge author, falsely believing it will get them published. They don't understand that author gods like TC could get away with terrible literary crimes in their old age and still become published. Instead, the writer must examine first novels published in their chosen genre over the past two years: investigate story types, settings, protagonists, etc. The research always yields productive results because first novels are the weathervane for where the market is going, and on more than one level. _____________ 3. NARCISSISM TIMES TEN EQUALS BOTTOM FEEDING The writer is puffed, living in a state of I-know-better. She or he is therefore incapable of successfully editing their work. Friends, relatives, or bad agents have told them their writing is good, and their story interesting (they dare not do otherwise!). Perhaps the writer is a big success in their other career, so why shouldn't they also know-it-all when it comes to writing? OMG. We once had a millionaire venture capitalist hand us their 15 page synopsis and the first few pages of their novel. The synopsis was absurdly long and unable to summarize the story in any coherent way; and the first couple of novel pages needed a good line editing because the prose was inadequate and one tended to speedbump over at least one awkward sentence per paragraph. Of course, these facts were unknown to the venture capitalist. He presented us the work with a grand TA DAH!, expecting a corroboration. Well, of course, irritation set in when we tactfully pointed out shortcomings. He also did not believe us when we explained that the vast majority of agents would not, repeat NOT read that 15 page synopsis regardless (and if they did, the novel was DOA). Later, he went on to self publish and sell a total of 136 copies at last count. _____________ 4. INCREDIBLY BAD ADVICE SPELLS DOOM Whether the source is an article, a friend, or a writer's conference, the writer has been told something that steered them wrong, or built a false expectation, or made them believe a man-bites-dog story will happen to them. For example, a writer with a manuscript in need of a good final editing told me, "Not to worry. The publishing house editor or the agent will complete the edit for me." I explained that would not happen--not for a first timer with zero track record. Another piece of incredibly bad advice often heard from egoistic writers or agents: "Writers are born, not made." This is simply not true. A clever, determined writer who shelves the ego and seeks to research and learn their craft will succeed. Tenacity wins. See our Top Ten Worst Pieces of Bad Writing Advice and follow up with The Top Worst of the "Worst Writer Advice." _____________ 5. THE COMING OF MORALE LOSS The most common form of morale loss occurs at such time the writer finally realizes their writing is not nearly as good as they suspected. The writer returns to a favorite slice of writing, seeking to admire, build confidence, only to discover their favorite slice has gone stale and offensive. So what happened? Writers who fail to understand that such realizations are necessary watersheds (and they happen to all writers!) and indicators of growth, become disillusioned. They quit. The second biggest cause of morale loss results from no success in selling an agent on your novel. It's been dragging on for years. The novel ms has been shopped around. No one is buying and feedback is confusing. Or perhaps the novel ms is resting like a one ton anchor on your desk (waiting for neck) eight years later and still not ready despite several restarts and who knows how many total drafts. If any of the above is the case, welcome to the club! Buy yourself a drink and get back to work. _____________ 6. IMPATIENCE EQUALS LOTS OF WASTED POSTAGE The story might even be pretty good, fairly original, and the writing likewise, however, the writer is impatient and sends the ms out too soon. Flaws exist in the plot, character development, and God knows what else. No one knew! The writer's crit group was mistaken! Agents and editors will stumble a few times before reaching for a rejection slip. Most likely, the writer will never know why. She or he will just keep sending out the same damaged ms again and again. _____________ 7. INSUFFICIENT CREDS TO PROVIDE COMPETITIVE EDGE Credentials, platform, prior publications--these things can matter, especially for literary/upmarket writers. The vast majority of first novel writers do not get work published in viable short fiction markets. This makes it even more difficult to land a good agent. Many agents will not look twice at a writer whose cover letter does not demonstrate a track record of some type. A publishing record, even a meager one, helps convince publishers and agents that you have what it takes. Even in the mystery/thriller and SF/F markets, you go to the top of the stack if you've published shorts in reputable journals. Contest wins, past mentors, certain types of nonfiction, and participation in writing programs can also matter, depending on the genre and marketing desires of the publishing house. Michael Neff Algonkian Writer Conferences ________________________________

The Savage History of Proofrock, Idaho opens looking through the two eyeholes of a mask, and of course there’s some heavy, menacing breathing. What those eyeholes are fixed on from behind the bushes is a ten-year-old kid. It’s nighttime, well after midnight, and the kid’s sitting in a barely moving swing at Founders Park. It’s where the old staging area for Terra Nova used to be, eight years ago. The kid’s head is down so his face is hidden. He could be dead, posed there, his hands wired to the swing’s galvanized chains, but then a thin breath comes up white and frosted, and he starts to look up, eyes first. Before his face comes into focus, The Savage History of Proofrock, Idaho cuts to an occluded angle into . . . a shed? It is. A dark workshop of some sort, like a room you scream through at a haunted house down in Idaho Falls. No more mask to look through. Just a nervous space between two boards of the wall. Words sizzle into the bottom of the screen and then flame away: the Chainsaw’s been Dead for Years. The irregular capitalization is supposed to make it scarier, like a ransom note. In this shed, on this grimy workbench, a man in a leather apron is working on this chainsaw. This man’s got a bit of size—linebacker shoulders, veins cresting on his forearms. His hands are white and tan, and the camera stays on them, documenting his every ministration on this chainsaw. It’s dark, the angle’s bad and unsteady, but that only makes it better, really. “Is that Slipknot?” Paul says about the music thumping in this shed. Hettie shushes him, says, “He’s old, okay?” He’s old and he’s taking the top cover off the chainsaw, or trying to. Eventually he figures out to push the chain brake—the cover comes right off. It’s enough of a surprise that the cover goes clattering onto the floor, almost loudly enough to cover the squeaky yelp that’s much closer to the camera. Almost loud enough to cover that, but not quite. Instead of a nightmare face stooping down into frame after this runaway chainsaw cover, there’s twelve seconds of listening silence after the song’s turned off. The man’s hands are still on the workbench, the fingertips to the dirty wood, the palms high and arched away so it’s like there’s two pale spiders doing that thing spiders do when their eight eyes and their leg bristles have told them there’s a presence in the room. And then that grimy leather apron is rushing to this camera, blacking the screen out. Paul chuckles, draws deep on the joint and holds it, holds it, then leans forward to breathe that smoke into Hettie’s mouth like she used to like, when they were fourteen. “You’re going to secondhand kill me,” she says with a satisfied cough, holding the videocamera high and wide, out of this. “Only after I first-hand do something else . . . ” Paul says back, his hand rasping up the denim of her thigh. “But did it scare you?” Hettie asks, keeping his hand in check and shaking the camera so Paul’s syrupy-thinking self can know what she’s talking about: the documentary. She pinches the joint away from him for her own toke, and doesn’t cough it out. Where they’re sitting is the doorway alcove of the library on Main Street, right under the book deposit slot. Out past their knees, Proofrock’s dead. Someone just needs to bury it. “Your mom know you snuck Jan out after dark?” Paul asks, squinting against Hettie’s exhale. “She’s more worried about who my dad’s dating this week,” Hettie says from the depths of her own syrup bottle. “Janny Boy’s a good little actor, though, isn’t he? I told him to pretend he was a ghost, just sitting there.” “What’d you do with the snow?” Paul asks, his eyes practically bleeding. It’s nearly halfway through October, now. The snow they always get by Halloween hasn’t come yet, but there’s been plenty of small ones, trying to add up into the real deal. “I edited it out,” Hettie says, sneaking a look up to Paul to see if he’ll buy this, but his stoned mind is still assembling her words into a sentence. Hettie shoulders into his chest, says, “We shot it in July, idiot.” “But his breath,” Paul manages to cobble together, doing his fingers to slow-motion the puff of white Jan had breathed out that night. “I didn’t give him a cigarette, if that’s what you’re asking.” “So he’s really a ghost, what?” “Confectioner’s sugar.” “In his mouth?” Paul asks. Hettie shrugs, says, obviously, “He loved it.” Excerpt continues below cover image. Courtesy of Saga Press, Simon & Schuster “Ghosts and swings and baking goods,” Paul says, hauling the camera up to his shoulder, aiming it at Hettie. “Tell us, Herr Director, why do little ghost boys with sweet white mouths like to frequent parks after dark?” “Because it looks good for my senior project,” Hettie says, cupping the lens in her palm, guiding the camera down. It would be easier to shoot this documentary with her phone, which is much better for low-light situations, but this is throwback. Her dad’s VHS camera was still in the attic, along with everything else he’d left when he bailed, but Hettie’s paying for these blank tapes herself, “to show she’s committed,” that “this isn’t just another passing thing.” What it is is her ticket out of here. The world will roll out the red carpet for footage like this, from the heart of the murder capital of America. First there was Camp Blood half a century and more ago, then there was the Independence Day Massacre when she was in fourth grade, and then, for junior high, there was Dark Mill South’s Reunion Tour. Nearly forty dead in a town of three thousand is a per capita nightmare, even across a few years. And that translates to serious bucks. Now if she can only get this Angel of Indian Lake’s tattered white nightgown and J-horror hair and supposedly bare feet on tape tonight, blurry and distant, “ethereal and timeless,” then . . . then everything, right? The doors to the future open up for Hettie Jansson, and she walks through with a Joan Jett scowl, squinting from the sea of flashbulbs but not ever wanting them to stop, either. The problem, though, it’s that the Angel isn’t reliable, is probably just some practical joke the jocks have kept going all the way since summer. Joke or not, though, she’s the missing ingredient for The Savage History of Proofrock, Idaho, the piece that sends it into the horror stratosphere. And they’ve got all night to fit her into a viewfinder, hit record, and hold steady fifty-nine and a half seconds—it’s how long that famous Bigfoot recording is, right? __________________________________ Excerpted from The Angel of Indian Lake by Stephen Graham Jones. Copyright © 2024 by Stephen Graham Jones. Reprinted by permission of Saga Press, Simon & Schuster, Inc. All Rights Reserved. View the full article