Leisure Books Archives

Ryker #3: The Terrorists

book reviews, Leisure Books, Leonard Levinson, Men's Adventure Novels, Ryker, Tough Cops Comments Off

Mar 182013

Ryker #3: The Terrorists, by Nelson DeMille
October, 1974 Leisure Books

It bears his name, but this third volume of the Ryker series was not written by Nelson DeMille; it was actually written by Len Levinson. Len says it was a last-second job from his editor at Leisure, Peter McCurtin, and since the publisher owned the series rights they could hire anyone to write it.

It’s easy to see though that this is not the same author who gave us #2: The Hammer of God. For one, “hero” Ryker isn’t a full-bore bastard this time around, coming off more like your typical Levinson protagonist, and the narrative has that same down and dirty (yet still funny) vibe common of Levinson’s work.

I asked Len about his work on The Terrorists in my interview with him for The Paperback Fanatic #23. Here are his comments on it:

I wrote The Terrorists around the time that the Symbionese Liberation Army was in the news for kidnapping Patty Hearst. It also was around the time that some Weathermen made an error in their laboratory and blew up themselves and a townhouse in Greenwich Village, not far from where I lived on Christopher Street. Weathermen and their affiliates were shooting and killing police officers during those years, so I came to hate terrorism in all its self-righteous, hypocritical forms, and this attitude was expressed in the novel. Amazingly, some people nowadays consider Weatherman terrorists to be heroic figures and noble idealists.

There’s nothing heroic or noble about the SLA stand-ins in this novel; Len calls them the American Freedom Army, and they’re made up of inner-city youths who murder in the name of “democracy.” In fact they have more in common with the drug-created zombies of GH Frost’s Able Team #8: Army of Devils, rampaging through society with little concern for the police, blowing away “capitalists” with insane zeal. If you kill one, five more rise up to take his or her place.

The Terrorists is also like The Penetrator #4: Hijacking Manhattan in how it plays on all the fears of the average mid-1970s middle American – the AFA is mostly made up of blacks and Hispanics and they’re all under twenty and they’re all hippie scum. To make another comparison to yet another forgotten book, they’re like a more military version of the hippie terrorists in Burt Hirschfeld's Father Pig. They start their campaign on New York with the shocking abduction of a banker’s son followed by several massacres in Manhattan, showing absolutely no mercy.

Sergeant Joe Ryker is called onto the case by his captain, who humorously enough proves to be just as willing as Ryker to break the rules in order to see justice. This alone goes against the old “stupid chief” cliché and was fun to see. Actually Ryker’s version of the NYPD operates in a mode far removed from reality, where they can stage raids on supposed hippie terrorist compounds, armed with machine guns and grenade launchers, and then blithely lie to the Mayor’s rep that the hippie terrorists shot first!

I get the feeling that Len banged this one out pretty quickly, probably fueled by some controlled substances. (This isn’t a criticism, it’s something I demand from my pulp writers.) But still Len has a tendency to fill some pages here, especially with lots of stuff in ALL CAPS. He doesn’t give us much of a view on why the Army is like it is – they’re just a bunch of sociopathic hippie scum, and that’s that. He does however play up the lurid quotient, with several scenes of unarmed people getting blown away, tortured, and murdered. Surprisingly though, there isn’t much sex in this one, the first Levinson novel I can say that about.

Ryker comes off as a more likable person here. Rather than the hateful prick of The Hammer of God, the Len Levinson version of Ryker is just a dedicated cop with a knack for goofy humor and a tenedency to stray outside the bounds of the the law. He also has no problem with picking up hookers for the night. Like most other Levinson characters, Ryker lives in a crumbling flophouse sort of place, rides around town in taxis, and gets most of his meals from Chinese takeouts.

When the AFA kidnaps a banker’s son and then mows down a disco filled with clubbing socialites, Ryker gets on the job and starts tracking down clues. This mostly entails meeting up with a young snitch in a 42nd Street porn theater and hobknobbing with a mafioso named Zagari. Along the way Ryker also continues to work on another case, namely the unsolved murder of a circus midget with the great name of Charlie Salt. This subplot really doesn’t add much to the story and comes off like another incident of page-filling, and in fact Len leaves it unresolved at the end of the book.

Ryker himself sees a lot of action, another big difference from the previous volume. He finds the time to lead two assaults on the AFA, gets in a lot of chases, and even manages to collar a pair of juvenile delinquents who break into his apartment and attempt to make off with his color TV and stereo. Again the character has little in common with the DeMille incarnation, and in fact we learn that Levinson’s Ryker was a Marine in Korea and wants to move to China someday so he can eat Chinese food all the time! There’s also a goofy sequence where Ryker, at a Chinese restaurant, overhears some dude calling the cops “fascists” and Ryker tosses his food at the guy.

But the cops sort of are fascists here, going to any means necessary to bring in the AFA. Actually, they just want to kill them all. “Civil rights” have no meaning as Ryker and squads of machine gun-toting cops will storm suspected AFA quarters with no intention of arresting anyone – they just want to waste them. But then the AFA are shown to be such merciless bastards that you want to see them get blown away. Some of it’s too much, though, like when Ryker catches an AFA guy, has the morgue doctor drug him with truth serum, and then blows the guy away in cold blood once he’s revealed the AFA headquarters!

When Ryker wants to go even further than his permissive captain will allow, though, he goes to mob boss Zagari. The two have a friendly sort of “one hand washes the other” relationship, with Zagari giving Ryker underworld intel in exchange for Ryker letting off cronies of Zagari that get arrested. Once Ryker knows where the AFA is, he tells his captain not to worry about it and goes to Zagari, who puts together an army of mobsters. This entails the second of two major raids in the novel (in the first Ryker gets shot in the leg, but manages to walk it off), and goes to even more zany extremes than the first, with the mobsters basically unleashing armageddon on the AFA-run tenement building, blasting it to its foundations.

The goofy humor you’d expect from other Len novels is still here, if a bit subdued. Ryker has a knack for delivering some dumb jokes, particularly one about dope-smoking monkeys. Ryker also has a penchant for pondering things, again as is expected in a Levinson novel. And funnily enough, Ryker is referred to a few times as “Blaze” in the novel. This is something Len spoofed in his must-read The Last Buffoon, with an editor calling his protagonist Frapkin and telling him to change the name of the hero in Frapkin’s latest tough cop novel. This happened to Len in reality; he later wrote an installment of the similar Super Cop Joe Blaze series, and he discussed the name-switching in the interview:

I don't think I consciously based Joe Blaze on Ryker, although they were similar characters. Joe Blaze began as a different already-established Belmot-Tower character, don't remember his name; he probably was a rip-off of Ryker. While I was writing, Peter [McCurtin] called and said BT was spinning off a new cop series, so I should change the name of the main character to Joe Blaze and keep going. So evidently Joe Blaze was a rip-off of a rip-off. I more or less reproduced my conversation with Peter in The Last Buffoon, changing names to protect the innocent or guilty, another example of art imitating life.

This was the only volume of the Ryker series that Len wrote; DeMille returned for the next one, and then the series went over to “Edson T. Hamill,” which I’m guessing was a house name. As mentioned, Len also wrote a Joe Blaze installment, The Thrill Killers, and I’m betting it will be along the same lines as The Terrorists. At any rate I look forward to eventually finding out.

And here’s an interesting postcript to The Terrorists, once again from Len’s interview:

After Nelson became a literary star, his agent Nick Ellison mailed me a legal document with a letter asking me to relinquish my rights to The Terrorists. I signed on the dotted line because I couldn't imagine what could be gained by being a pain in the neck to Nelson.

Z-Comm #2: Killpoint

book reviews, David Alexander, Leisure Books, Men's Adventure Novels, Z-Comm Comments Off

Feb 212013

Z-Comm #2: Killpoint, by Kyle Maning
February, 1989 Leisure Books

I’m not sure why it took me so long to get back to this series, which was courtesy the fevered imagination of David Alexander, posing under the psuedonym “Kyle Maning.” Whereas Z-Comm #1 was a bit too padded and uneventful until the final third, Killpoint fires on all cylinders from the first page, racking up a gory deathcount that rivals anything Alexander delivered in the Phoenix series.

One thing missing though is the characterization from the first volume. Whereas previously Alexander spent a lot of time introducing the five members of Z-Comm, particularly the “living weapon” Sam Profitt, here all of them are reduced to ciphers, even Profitt himself, who barely has any dialog. This isn’t a criticism, just an observation. Normally I complain about “too much action” in an action novel, but when the action’s being written by David Alexander, there can never be too much.

And make no mistake, Killpoint is an action onslaught, as action-heavy as Phoenix #3. Alexander piles on his customary gore and over-the-top descriptions, but for the most part plays it straight with the blood and guts. To be sure, there’s a ton of ultra-detailed sadism and violence here, but very little of the goofy death descriptions you’d find in the Phoenix novels, or even Z-Comm #1. In fact it seems Alexander here tried to play up more of a “realistic” portrayal of violence – still taken to outrageous extremes, mind you – showcasing the horrors of terrorism in an almost absurdly overblown way.

This time Z-Comm is called in to handle a possible terrorist action in Venice, during a highly-publicized meeting between the US president and the Soviet premiere. Intel has it that the infamous Vulture, a Middle Eastern terrorist leader known for his horrific torture methods, has put together an army and is already holed up on one of the innumerable islands which surround Venice, planning his attack.

Of course, everyone else is too incompetent to track down the Vulture and stop him. Enter Z-Comm, who arrive on the scene and immediately begin kicking “scum sheik” ass; Alexander doesn’t even bother with a mission prep this time, and introduces Z-Comm leader Logan Cage while he’s en route to Italy on the Orient Express – on the same train, of course, as a pair of would-be robbers, whom Cage deals with in bloody fashion.

But Alexander is only getting started; immediately after this we have an ultra sick scene where a trio of terrorists have their gruesome way with a hooker before engaging in a suicide attack on Venice, complete with one of them blasting away at tourists with an Ultimax machine gun with explosive-tipped bullets. The scene with the hooker rivals the infamously gross denoument of Phoenix #2, and will either have you running for the hills or laughing (like I was) at the incredibly dark and violent humor Alexander excels at.

Cage and his four comrades (Bear, Sam Profitt, Zabriskie, and Domino, the Smurfette of the group) basically waltz around Venice, tracking down clues, getting in frequent firefights, and beating information out of known Vulture accomplices, one of them being an exiled American mafioso. Each of them gets their share of the action spotlight, and for Domino there’s even action of the sexual variety – whereas it’s customary in the genre for female operatives to flaunt their wiles in order to distract a mark, but never going all the way with them, Alexander instead has it that Domino really gets into this aspect of her job, and therefore screws an Arabic terrorist supporter in uber-explicit detail while the rest of Z-Comm listens in on their radios.

The novel soon appropriates the feel of Invasion USA, with the Vulture’s followers launching catastrophic attacks on the citizens of Venice, who blithely go about their daily lives. By the climax of the novel the terrorists have apparently wasted half of the populace in surprise attacks on commercial areas or tourist venues, but regardless when the Vulture launches a full-on assault on the city, people are still sitting around in movie theaters or going to the mall, easy pickings for the terrorist kill crews. Again, it’s all so goofy and overdone that you can’t help but laugh…sort of like Invasion USA, in fact.

The action scenes are plentiful, but they’re also varied, from hand-to-hand combat to even fullscale military stuff, like when the Vulture wages a naval war on the wharves of Venice. And as in the previous volume it quickly appropriates a comic book feel, with each member of Z-Comm the equal to an entire army of terrorists, blowing away hordes of them with nary a scratch. But all of the plentiful action scenes are fun (and insane), especially one where Z-Comm launches a "hard probe" on a diplomatic function, a mission which of course quickly devolves into massive bloodshed and destruction.

Alexander also excels in scenes of outrageous sadism, and in addition to the aforementioned hooker-murdering there are extended bits where we see the Vulture’s infamous torture techniques, as well as another incredibly gruesome scene where Z-Comm discovers the mutilated corpses of a couple who worked as informants for the terrorists. (Humorously, Alexander has the Z-Commandos unfazed by the horrific sight.)

As you’ll note, I haven’t really gotten into the plot much. That’s because there isn’t much of one. It’s just Z-Comm following leads, getting in firefights, killing tons of terrorists, and moving on to the next attack, with an occasional topical detail about Venice on the side. There really is no plot other than that. But come on. It’s David Alexander. It’s great!

The Sharpshooter #7: Headcrusher

book reviews, Bruno Rossi, Leisure Books, Leonard Levinson, Men's Adventure Novels, Sharpshooter Comments Off

Sep 272012

The Sharpshooter #7: Headcrusher, by Bruno Rossi
June, 1974 Leisure Books

The only problem with Headcrusher is that it was the last volume of The Sharpshooter to be written by Len Levinson. Otherwise it’s the best installment of the series yet, melding Levinson’s strong writing and inventive characterization with the sadistic brutality of Blood Bath. Even though it was only #7 in the series, Headcrusher almost acts as a finale, with “hero” Johnny Rock finally settling the score with the mobsters who killed his family back in #1: The Killing Machine.

There’s an air of finality to the book, and not just when Rock visits a lawyer to have his will drawn up. I’ve yet to read my way through the series, so I wonder if the true last volume of the series, Mafia Death Watch, by Dan Reardon, has any sense of series-conclusion to it. Levinson states here that Rock has been fighting the Mafia for three years, and he’s getting worn out – that lawyer, an old family friend, even tells Rock he looks like he’s aged ten years in the past three. A fitting conclusion to Headcrusher of course would be for Rock to go out in a blaze of glory, but needless to say this doesn’t happen, though he does take a lot of damage here.

With this novel Levinson has perfected his version of Johnny Rock. In Levinson’s hands he is now a combination of the neurotic “Johnny” of Levinson’s earlier two novels in the series and the sadistic fiend of Russell Smith. The first big clue is that now Levinson refers to our hero solely as “Rock,” which of course sounds a lot more tough than the plain old “Johnny” of his previous offerings. Also Rock this time out could give lessons in being a bad-ass to Jim “Slaughter” Brown; there are several laugh-out-loud instances where Rock will put someone in place with a caustic remark, or just be mean for no reason, such as when he’s having sex with a hooker who tells him, “Ooooh, you do it so good.” Rock’s response: “Shut up.”

Anyway, Rock’s back in New York City, where he’s been hanging out in mob-frequented bars in the hopes of tracking down his family’s killers. He strikes gold when a pair of hitmen come in, conveniently blabbing about some of the jobs they’ve done in the past, one of them being the “Rocetti hit” a few years before. Ie, Rock’s family. Rock follows them and before wasting them finds out that they got the job to hit his family from someone named Mackie Malanga.

Malanga is another of those Levinson characters who springs from the pages of the book. A greaseball who runs the Venus Massage Parlor on Eigth Avenue, Malanga is thoroughly perverted and sick. Of course, the “massage girls” in the rundown place are hookers, but he makes his true money with the friggin’ kids he keeps locked away in the basement, where they are taken advantage of by creeps who pay Malanga fortunes for the opportunity. Malanga’s business model is sick but ingenious; he runs a racket so that the kids are picked up off the street by a “priest” who sends them to an “orphanage” – the orphanage being the basement of the Venus Massage Parlor.

Rock learns all of this shortly after arriving on the scene, screwing one of the hookers, and inadvertently saving Malanga’s life when a group of rival mobsters show up with guns blazing. Rock, who of course was just taking the opportunity to kill more Mafia, takes advantage of the fact that Malanga is instantly indebted to him, and soon enough Rock’s the guy’s right-hand man, giving orders to the other mobsters and schmoozing around with the motormouthed Malagna, ie the guy who killed Rock’s entire family.

Levinson works in some Godfather material here with a war going on between Malanga’s boss, Don Salvatore, and another don who wants a piece of Salvatore’s kingdom in Manhattan. Rock spends a long portion of Headcrusher acting as a mob enforcer, leading hitmen on raids against other families and gunning down traitors in cold blood. There’s even an involved part where Rock remembers he’s dubbed “The Sharpshooter” and scouts out the rival don from a rooftop, waiting to blow him away with a sniper shot.

Throughout Rock reminds himself that this is a great opportunity to keep killing mobsters; of course, he could care less about internecine strife in the Mafia. He also takes advantage of the fringe benefits of being Malanga’s right-hand man; Malanga tells Rock to feel free to sleep with as many of “the girls” as he’d like, and Rock does so. As expected, a friendship builds between the two, with Rock realizing he’s in the strange predicament of actually liking the man who killed everyone he ever loved. (In one sequence there's a humorous goof where Malanga refers to Rock as "Rock," and not by the name he's posing under, something Levinson must've missed in his edit.)

Not that this prevents Rock from being the hero we know and love. Anyone who has read Levinson’s previous two entries in the series knows that his presentation of Johnny Rock is full of surprises; Levinson will lull you into the character’s mindset and, just as you’re thinking Rock’s somewhat “heroic” (in that he only kills mobsters), Levinson will have him pull something thoroughly shocking, like in #4: The Worst Way To Die when he started sniper-shooting a group of people at a mob funeral, including young women who obviously had nothing to do with anything.

Rock pulls similar antics here, particularly near the climax when he gets a one-on-one meeting with Don Salvatore and his family. This actually leads into a well-done chase scene. Headcrusher is a little stronger in the action department than previous books in the series. There are several scenes of Rock blasting away at gun-wielding goons, either on his own or while leading Malanga’s men on raids. Rock’s main choice of weaponry is a Mauser, which he uses to blow off several faces.

It’s interesting to note that Levinson has Rock partake of drugs pretty frequently, which of course brings to mind Levinson’s The Last Buffoon. Rock smokes grass a few times with one of the massage parlor hookers, and later meets up with a group of hippies who also offer him a few joints. When one of the hippies sees that Rock looks tired (and he is, he’s been running from mobsters all night), she offers him a snort of coke. Rock likes it so much that he takes some with him, snorting it before his climatic battle! I wonder how that went over with (what I assume was) the largely blue-collar/conservative Republican readership of the series.

But again, this is a fun descent into lurid delights that one would expect from mid-‘70s Leisure Books, with the squalor of New York City brought fully to life. As mentioned, Mackie Malanga’s business affairs are thoroughly depraved (and Rock does prove himself a hero by freeing those enslaved kids), innocent people usually suffer most in the many violent skirmishes, and the sex is more nasty than erotic, usually Rock just “fucking one of the girls.” The only bright spots come courtesy of unexpected sources, like Don Salvatore’s attractive young niece, another of those strong female characters Levinson creates, one who has an instant rapport with Rock, making the reader expect one thing is about to happen when something entirely else does.

It’s a shame Levinson wasn’t kept on as the permanent writer for the series, as he does great things with Rock, turning out a twisted psychopath who still somehow manages to be likable. Or at least, enjoyable to read about. But as mentioned, Headcrusher has a note of finality to it, so it was only apt that this was Levinson’s last entry in the series.

Blood On Frisco Bay

book reviews, Joe Rigg, Leisure Books, Men's Adventure Novels, Tough Cops Comments Off

Sep 032012

Blood On Frisco Bay, by Jay Flynn
No month stated, 1976 Leisure Books

This was the first of two volumes Jay Flynn wrote for Leisure Books about San Francisco police sergeant Joe Rigg. According to Bill Pronzini’s excellent bio of Flynn, the novels were churned out during a low ebb in Flynn’s career, while the author was fueled on booze and bitterness. This is normally something I demand in my pulp fiction writers, but unfortunately I can see why Pronzini referred to the Rigg novels as the "worst.” While Blood On Frisco Bay starts off strong, it eventually loses its way and becomes a sort of padded and dull affair…indeed, the sort of thing you’d expect to be churned out by someone too drunk to notice or care.

Rigg is a tough cop very much in the mold of Nelson DeMille's Ryker, and it’s easy to believe that Leisure was starting up a whole new series based around the character. At this time Leisure (and parent company Belmont Tower) dropped both series titles and volume numbers from their series fiction, but for all intents Blood On Frisco Bay could be titled Joe Rigg #1.

Driving around in an unmarked station wagon (which is built on a Checker frame) with his “partner,” an 8-foot tall Irish Wolfhound named Croc, Rigg is in his late thirties and has no desire to move up in the police world. He doesn’t want to be a detective because he hates paperwork. He gets by on his wits and is friendly with the “harbor rats,” the whores, the smalltime drug dealing riffraff, the hippies and the junkies, in order that he can get things from them when he needs to. He carries around a Bowie knife, a 9mm Walther, and keeps an Uzi in his station wagon. Plus he lives on a “Trumpy,” an old gangster-era floating palace which he reminds everyone he bought at a vast discount and can barely afford to keep afloat.

A gorgeous young socialite is found strangled in a bar, and Rigg arrives while the scene is still hot. He chases after the culprit, a young Vietnamese woman, and within a few pages of the novel’s lurid opening Rigg is already calling in backup so he can storm into “The Muff,” a lesbian bar! Yes, there’s nothing like a mid-‘70s Leisure novel. The suspect, whom we later learn is named Francine, is hiding in the bar, and Flynn delivers one of the novel’s few action scenes as Rigg nearly gets hold of “the bitch” before he’s attacked by some cleaver-wielding cook; Rigg chops the man’s hand off with his Bowie knife.

Rigg becomes a sort of honorary detective, leading the case; the rest of the force is busy guarding the President-elect – referred to as “The Cowboy” – who happens to be in town. After some searching for Francine, including the questioning of her former employer, a millionaire named Keller who was married to the murdered young woman that started this whole thing, Rigg sort of gets involved in all sorts of unrelated stuff, most of it through coincidence.

For example, after stopping in a bar and meeting yet another of his lowlife friends, a truck driver, Rigg just happens to later see the guy’s truck driving down the road, and when Rigg can’t get him on the CB he figures something must be up. This develops into an endless sequence where Rigg trails after the stolen truck, which heads on down into California; eventually he learns that it’s hauling gold and that the truck is owned by one of Keller’s subsidiaries. Oh, and along the way Rigg also wastes a few hippie-terrorist bank robbers, who have absolutely nothing to do with anything.

His social life is just as frantic; Rigg has a casual sex thing with Annie Dale, a pretty young girl who cleans the boats on the harbor, and occasionally sleeps with Rigg. Then there’s also Tina Holmes, a high-dollar hooker who as you’ll expect is in love with Rigg; Tina, as part of her job duties, once “made it” with Francine and Keller’s now-dead wife while Keller himself watched on, so after Rigg is attacked in Tina’s apartment by hoods he figures he needs to put her away in a safe place.

So now Tina lives on Rigg’s boat, butting heads with Annie – not that this stops them from both doing Rigg at the same time. (A scene Flynn curiously leaves vague…but as for the other sex scenes, they’re pretty graphic, including one between Rigg and a super-horny Tina which includes the unforgettable line: “Not there, Joe! I want you in my ass!”)

But as the novel proceeds it loses its thrust, and comes off more as Rigg just sort of wandering around from one coincidental event to the next. Oddly enough the novel is fairly well written, and comes off as masterful when compared to the genre average. The dialog is good, the characters are fun, and the tone is strong; all of which makes the novel’s failings all the more pronounced. The entire middle half just spins its wheels, with Rigg chasing trucks, having sex with Annie and/or Tina, or even giving Annie love advice (she finds herself growing attracted to Tina and worries she might become a “les.” Rigg’s advice? “Give it a try!”).

The “plot” of the novel – Rigg trying to crack the Mrs. Keller murder case and catch Francine – is lost, and you keep wondering what happened to it. Especially when the climax really gets weird, with Rigg playing chaperone to the Cowboy. This is the most “coincedental” part yet, as Rigg and Tina drive by the President-Elect’s motorcade, and Rigg just happens to spot a dude who emerges from the crowd with a bazooka! Rigg takes out the guy with his car but one of the secret service cars is destroyed in the blast.

Somehow this entails the Cowboy coming to stay with Rigg on the Trumpy boat…and plus the guy already knows Tina, as he was another of her “clients.” Now we have long scenes of Rigg and the future President sitting around on the boat and shooting the shit, knocking back plentiful amounts of brandy. Eventually we learn that the would-be assassin was part of a hippie terrorist network (unrelated to the hippie terrorist bank robbers from earlier)…and in a very rushed denoument (Rigg is literally called while hanging out on the boat with the Cowboy and informed that Francine has finally been tracked down), we also learn that Francine herself is involved with the terrorists, and the murder of Mrs. Keller was all part of their scheme.

Flynn is sure to pack the novel with tons of lurid detail, just as we’d expect from a ‘75/’76 model Leisure book – a time when, it seems to me, the imprint got even more lurid. Francine, who unfortunately doesn’t have much “screen time,” is set up as one sick, sick woman, into the torture and s&m world, even making brutal films. This entails a sequence where Rigg watches an underground sadomasochism film in which Francine brutalizes an unfortunate woman (who turns out to be Mrs. Keller); Flynn writes up all sorts of harrowing stuff, going on and on, and ends the sequence with the in-joke punchline that Rigg always thought such things could only happen in bad novels by hack authors.

So while there’s a lot of explicit sex, there isn’t much action…Rigg as mentioned chops off a hand and shoots a few hoods, blowing off their heads in grisly detail, but otherwise he spends his time talking and drinking. As for his “partner,” Croc, Flynn carries out the goofy partnership pretty well, with most everyone terrified of the dog as soon as they see it, but Rigg always telling them he’s “harmless.”

The novel definitely captures that mid-‘70s “shag rug” sort of feel, and actually comes off a bit like the Shannon series, only less goofy. Don’t get me wrong, Blood On Frisco Bay is definitely goofy, but in a different way…the books are mostly alike in how they capture the decadent spirit of the era and feature protagonists who are more interested in screwing and drinking than solving crimes.

There was one more Rigg novel, Trouble Is My Business, which sounds even more lurid, about a “sex killer” who chops off heads with a knife. I’ll be getting to it eventually.

Where The Action Is (aka The All New Cherry Delight #4)

book reviews, Leisure Books, Leonard Levinson, Men's Adventure Novels Comments Off

Aug 132012

Where The Action Is, by Glen Chase
No month stated, 1977 Leisure Books

The vulgarities of this novel probably never will be matched in American Fiction. -- Leonard Levinson, in an interview with me in Paperback Fanatic #23

This is the first Cherry Delight novel I've read, and I only read it because Leonard Levinson wrote it. Cherry is a swinging, sexy spy, along the lines of the Baroness, but whereas that series plays it straight for the most part, Cherry Delight is a full-on satire/spoof/comedy. My understanding is that Gardner Fox created the character and wrote 24 novels as "Glen Chase," from 1972 through 1975. Leisure brought back the series as "The All New Cherry Delight" in 1977, publishing an additional (unnumbered) 5 volumes through 1978, keeping the Glen Chase house name. This was the only volume of the series Levinson wrote.

The All New series was different in that Cherry no longer just went up against rival spies; now she dealt in occult and horror-themed cases. Also, whereas in the original series she was an agent for NYMPHO, now she was an agent for DUE (Department of Unusual Events). It also seems that her original code name of "The Sexecutioner" was dropped as well. However the graphic sex was not dropped from the new series; again, like the Baroness, the Cherry Delight series was basically hardcore porn hiding in the guise of spy-fy. But whereas the Baroness was written in third-person (which I still found strange because it relayed the multiple sex scenes from the Baroness's point of view), the Cherry Delight novels are written in first-person, with Cherry relating her adventures, sexual and otherwise, directly to us.

Now, this I find really strange. I mean, we're talking here about a men's adventure series in which the protagonist tells us -- in great detail -- all about sucking on various parts of the male anatomy, screwing men, the works. But what do I know; there was a total of 29 books in this series, when you count both runs, so regardless it enjoyed an enduring popularity -- not to mention the outrageous prices some of these books currently go for. I have no idea how Fox handled the writing of the sex scenes in his installments, but Levinson does a great job, better even than Donald Moffitt in the Baroness books. Indeed, I enjoyed Where The Action Is more than the entirety of the Baroness series.

But again, the two series are wildly different, and Where The Action Is even differs from Levinson's other action series work. Despite being labeled and marketed as an "adventure" novel, Where The Action Is has more in common with The Last Buffoon than say Night of the Assassins. Levinson goes into detail about the writing of this novel in the above-mentioned interview, but long story short he was offered the job by editor Peter McCurtin, who showed him the already-completed cover photo, of a sexy gal in a silver jumpsuit posing on a gambling table. Fueled by "coffee and amphetimines," Levinson turned out his manuscript in a whopping six days.

Cherry's narrative voice is very similar to Alexander Frapkin's in The Last Buffoon: the same cynical sense of humor mixed with a wide-eyed joy for life. You have to consider Where The Action Is as a comedy, because it fails as an "action" novel...which, again, is something it was never intended to be. Cherry is of course an ass-kicking spy with an incredible body, a gorgeous face, and glorious red hair, but in Levinson's hands she's also a lovelorn, hopeless romantic who is given to philosophical introspection. There's only one action scene in the entire book, with Cherry decimating a crew of mobsters as she speeds along in her Ferrari; even the finale is short on action, literally just Cherry sitting down to talk with the villain of the piece.

Anyway, the plot centers around an Aleister Crowley-type magician named Sergei Gubishov, who is taking over Vegas. Using his mental powers he's able to win every game in town, and he's bankrupting the casinos. The mobsters who run the place have tried to kill him, but have failed each time. (We're told one of the hitmen dropped dead after Gubishov merely looked at him.) Cherry's called in by her DUE boss, Derek, and told that if Vegas goes under the entire US economy will topple. Her task is to head to Vegas and kill Gubishov.

Levinson jumps straight into the sex, as Cherry is seduced by her "Southern gentleman" pilot on the flight to Vegas. Cherry has a notoriety for being promiscuous, something that apparently everyone knows, even the pilot...not to mention her boss, who browbeats Cherry over her wanton nature throughout the novel. Cherry stays in a hotel run by Angelo, the boss of the Vegas mobsters-cum-casino owners, and Levinson develops a long-simmer, unrequited love between the two, with constant bickering and banter. The other mobsters aren't too thrilled that for help they've been sent a "broad," but Cherry of course kicks a little mobster ass and they shut up.

Gubishov has a mental hold on people, including Donna, an 18 year-old horny beauty whom Gubishov stole away from her husband on their honeymoon. (Cherry later gets hold of Donna's bereaved groom and evens the sexual score.) Gubishov uses this occult mind power to control the various Vegas games; he has no other intentions than to become wealthy. Ie, no plans of world conquest or anything like that. Levinson switches up the expected confrontation, though; Cherry, upon meeting Gubishov face to face, takes one look at the guy and passes out.

This leads to a long backstory in which we learn that Gubishov, about 15 years before, was the man who took Cherry's virginity (or, as she puts it several times: "The man who took Cherry's cherry."). Going under a different name at the time, Gubishov was part of a carnival that came to the teenaged Cherry's hometown all those years ago. After picking Cherry out of the audience to be his partner in the act, Gubishov invited Cherry back to his trailer, where Gubishov revealed that they had been lovers in the past. Graphic sex ensued, with Cherry falling in love with Gubishov, who nonetheless told her that they could never be together, not until she was older.

Back to the present day, where Cherry reveals that she's never gotten over Gubishov and still loves him. Thus, she cannot kill him as ordered. You can already tell this novel's not going the expected route, and Levinson recently mentioned in an email to me that Where The Action Is was "probably the strangest novel I ever wrote." Rather than going up against the villain, Cherry instead tells him that she's still in love with him, could never kill him, and will always love the man who took her virginity.

What's weird is that I kept expecting some curveball to come along, but really that's all there is to it -- when Gubishov learns that his Vegas-wrecking will eventually destroy the entire economy, he decides to just back down! Cherry's suggestion is that he be given one of the hotels, from which he'll make more than enough money to allow him to live in luxury for the rest of his life. Gubishov is amenable to this, and on her way back to the Strip Cherry's attacked by those aforementioned goons, sent there by a mobster she pissed off.

After this one action scene we have another where Cherry kills the mobster himself with a laser penlight. As luck would have it, this mobster was the owner of the casino Gubishov wants to take over. After a meeting with the other mobsters, it's agreed that Gubishov can have the casino, and that takes care of that! The plot of the novel is over, but there's still a quarter of a way to go. When the curveball we've been expecting finally arrives, it comes not through some chicanery on Gubishov's part, but Levinson's; he instead plays up on the foreshadowing throughout the novel, that Cherry is lovelorn and has indeed fallen in with the young mob boss, Angelo.

So we have what started off as an action book that has become more about a crestfallen Cherry Delight, who realizes she will never know true love. She drives back to New York, depressed, and Levinson ends the tale by jumping ahead a year, where Cherry and Angelo finally meet again in Italy. The book actually reads like the first (and only) adventure of Cherry Delight, given that Levinson delves into her teenage years, has her reflecting back on her life, and provides a definite end -- in other words, it's not the open ending one would expect of series fiction. But again, given that this was Levinson's one and only Cherry Delight novel, this is understandable.

And as stated, the book is funny, though occasionally can get a little goofy (no doubt those amphetimines kicking in). The sex scenes are frequent and quite graphic, in particular the sequence where Cherry takes the virginity of Donna's forlorn husband.

Really though, at 176 pages of big print, Where The Action Is comes off more like a novella, a breezy read that I finished before I knew it; which, again, is how I think these men's adventure novels should be written. The longer they are, the more prone they are to becoming padded and tiresome. Levinson keeps things moving at a steady, fun clip, but be warned again that this novel is more of a satire and comedy than a Baroness-type action novel.

Ryker #2: The Hammer of God

book reviews, Leisure Books, Men's Adventure Novels, Ryker, Tough Cops Comments Off

Aug 062012

Ryker #2: The Hammer of God, by Nelson DeMille
October, 1974 Leisure Books

I've been intrigued with this 8-volume* series for a while, but a few factors have prevented me from seeking it out. For one, these books aren't cheap. No doubt due to Nelson DeMille's mainstream popularity, the Ryker books are atrociously overpriced (and don't even get me started on his Keller series, published by Manor -- or the 1990 Pocket reprints which were published under the psuedonym Jack Cannon!). Also, both Marty McKee and Justin Marriott (in the first issue of his Men Of Violence magazine) have gone on the record that these books aren't always up to snuff, so to speak, with bad writing and a general lack of action.

But when I read about the lurid plot of The Hammer of God I basically just had to get a copy of the book. Luckily I was able to find one at an acceptable price; it was still overpriced, but at least it was well below the $20-$80 some online bookseller assholes list it for. This installment taps right into the occult craze of the early '70s, with a psycho who goes around the seedy streets of New York City, killing women whom he believes to be witches. Also worth noting is that, despite being published in late 1974, The Hammer of God actually takes place from late 1969 on into the spring of 1970.

Also worth noting is the psycho actually refers to himself as "God's Avenger," not "the Hammer of God." Only a few portions of the narrative are from his perspective, but we learn that he was some anonymous farmhand who was visited by "God" one day, who basically told him to go to New York City and start killing witches. Now calling himself "Zachariah," the psycho lives in a spartan apartment in the city, where he meditates all day, living solely off of wine and cheese. He only comes out every few months, for the seasonal "Sabat" festivals of the witches; his first murder occurs shortly before Christmas.

Attending a low-rent performance of Hamlet, Zachariah picks the prettiest of the three witches and follows the actress home, where he tells her she is possessed, then proceeds to strangle her, finishing off his divine task by putting a stake through her heart. Ryker, a tough cop with twenty years experience on the force, works the area in which the murder took place (the Upper West Side and Times Square), so this is how he is brought into the tale.

Joe Ryker is one hell of a character, to say the least. Racist, misogynist, homophobic, sadistic, chavaunist, you name it. In other words, he's a complete dick, fighting with everyone and anyone. This is often stated in reviews of the series, but one thing worth noting is that nowhere does DeMille imply that Ryker is a hero. In fact every other character is generally shocked by his words and actions, and no one seems to like him. Not only that, but his muleheaded ideas, which Ryker is positive are the only ones worth trying, usually backfire, most of the time resulting in the death or at least the harm of his fellow cops. In my opinion DeMille here has created an anti-hero in the truest sense, an antogonist who serves as the protagonist.

Ryker's partner gets more narrative time, and emerges as the true hero of the piece. This is Peter Christie, a new detective on the force, one who still only has a silver badge. One of the themes of the novel is Ryker's corruption of Christie. When we meet him, Christie is just a regular guy, terrified of the crime and corruption in New York City, determined to one day escape the hellhole and move somewhere far, far away. He looks to Ryker mostly with anxiety but also a dash of respect; Ryker's known to be an asshole, but he gets results. Pretty soon though Christie is pulling actions that please even Ryker; in one laugh-out-loud moment, Christie, while interrogating some young (and black) suspects, asks himself, "What would Ryker do?", and immediately kicks one of the kids in the balls.

Ryker and Christie canvas the squalid areas of New York City, searching for Zachariah, who we know can't be found because he never leaves his apartment. After a second murder in which Zachariah kills another Hamlet actress -- this one a real-life practicing witch -- Ryker concocts a variety of schemes. A large portion of The Hammer of God is given over to dialog, of Ryker brainstorming ideas (and then bullying anyone who disagrees), either with Christie or with the rest of the precinct. (And of course true to the genre there's a "stupid chief" who is always stonewalling Ryker, but of course eventually backs down.)

But as Justin pointed out in his Men Of Violence piece, there's scarce action here. No shootouts, no chases, not even any fistfights. And yet for all that, the novel moves at a brisk pace. DeMille does a great job bringing his characters to life, and he really brings to life the streets of New York. Marty McKee mentioned in his reviews of these books that the Ryker novels came off as rushed and sloppy, but I didn't get that here, so maybe DeMille had more time to craft this particular installment. Again, though, it lacks action and thrills.

However it makes up for it with some of the most outrageous dark comedy I've ever had the joy to read. Where to start? How about the scene where Ryker, getting surly after a full day of questioning various witnesses, starts to hassle an old "fruitcake" and his young boyfriend, baiting them with degrading taunts? Then, realizing that the kid has the hots for him, Ryker actually takes the kid back to the crime scene and pretends that he too is interested -- all because Ryker detects that the kid has extra info which he's afraid to give out in the presence of his boyfriend. The kid strips for Ryker (who remains clothed)...and once Ryker gets the info he needs, he beats the shit out of the kid.

There are many other similar instances. One of Ryker's brilliant schemes is to infiltrate Christie into the underworld of witches; through sheer deus ex machina it turns out that the precinct's medical examiner, Dr. Morloch (!) is himself a full-fledged warlock (not to mention gay -- more opportunity for Ryker's barbs), so the good doctor provides the training. But wait, Ryker's heard orgies go down at these witch meetings, so they need a female detective...Ryker wants the gorgeous Abigail "Abbie" Robbins to take the job, a headstrong gal who turns heads, lives the high life in Manhattan, and doesn't put up with Ryker's shit. The arguing between Abbie and Ryker is one of the highlights of the book, and the dialog DeMille gives Abbie is further indication that he himself doesn't think too highly of Ryker.

DeMille works in a lot of information about witches and cults, playing up the more lurid aspects. He downplays the actual sleaze, though; for a novel so concerned with orgies and whatnot, The Hammer of God doesn't feature much sex or graphic nature. As part of their prep work for going undercover as witches-to-be, Christie and Abbie sleep together, but DeMille skips the details and instead plays up the ensuing spat, with Christie getting jealous not only of the attention Abbie gets at the cult meetings, but also the fact that she appears to enjoy the attention.

As mentioned, most of the novel is comprised of Ryker always being a step behind Zachariah, and then Ryker's ensuing plans to catch the bastard. The final quarter of the novel is the best, as all of Ryker's plans have centered on getting Zachariah to attend a black mass either at Dr. Morloch's swank apartment in the upper 60s or one which will be held among a less-privileged cult in the East Village -- one that takes place in a closed-down church, to boot. Any idiot could tell you that Zachariah, since he has to choose (both masses take place on the same night), would go with the one in the former church, so I never could figure out why Ryker even bothered planning something at Morloch's.

But again, this is just another instance of Ryker's plan either going wrong or causing grief -- for everyone except Ryker, that is. The last half of the novel is almost fully given over to Christie, with Ryker a supporting character. The black mass sequence pulls out all the stops, with the ensuing orgy light on the explicit nature but still pretty lurid, DeMille again playing up on Christie's homophobia (no doubt picked up from Ryker); all along Christie's been afraid that a gay cult-member might pull a move on him at the orgy, because Christie's heard that anything can happen during them.

When Zachariah finally arrives DeMille delivers a harrowing, violent scene that expands upon all of the twisted stuff that came before. Meanwhile Ryker's still not around. Christie is on the scene, but he's messed up from the heavy dope smoked at the black mass, not to mention the orgy that's raging around him -- Abbie meanwhile having given herself over to another couple. This entire section is pretty disturbed, with lots of hippies getting gutted, beheaded, and cleaved. So many in fact that by the time Ryker arrives with his .357 you get the feeling he needn't have bothered.

I enjoyed this novel enough to track down a few more titles in the series, but unfortunately none of them by DeMille. (I did luck out the other month though and scored a copy of the 1990 reprint of his Keller novel, The Smack Man, which as mentioned below is basically just a Ryker novel, only with Ryker's name changed.) This is the first DeMille novel I've read, and I have to say, I enjoyed it. While The Hammer of God was lacking a bit in the action department, and certainly could've been a bit more lurid, DeMille really made up for it with his gift for bringing to life the squalor of 1970s New York City, combined with a strong cast of characters who deliver some humorous and memorable dialog.

*The Ryker series has a confounding publication history. The series ran from 1974 to 1976, with the first four volumes published in 1974. DeMille wrote volumes one and two, The Sniper and The Hammer of God. My man Leonard Levinson wrote the third volume, The Terrorists, even though it was still credited to DeMille, who himself returned for the fourth volume, The Agent of Death. After which DeMille jumped ship, going over to Manor Books, where he changed Ryker's name to "Keller," and continued writing the series under this new title for another four volumes. Meanwhile Ryker continued at Leisure; the fifth volume, The Child Killer (1975), was published under the name Edson T. Hamill, likely a psuedonym -- and likely one chosen because it sounds a little like "Nelson DeMille." The Hamill name remained for the duration of the Ryker books, however The Child Killer was the last numbered volume. The sixth installment was The Sadist (1975), which was also the last to feature a painted cover. The final two volumes, Motive For Murder (1975) and The Slasher (1976), featured photo covers.

The Sharpshooter #6: Muzzle Blast

book reviews, Bruno Rossi, Leisure Books, Marksman, Men's Adventure Novels, Russell Smith, Sharpshooter Comments Off

Apr 022012

The Sharpshooter #6: Muzzle Blast, by Bruno Rossi
April, 1974 Leisure Books

This is by far the clunkiest and roughest installment of the Sharpshooter yet, and I don't mean in a good way. Also it is quite obviously another novel that was written by Russell Smith as a volume of the Marksman series, but changed for whatever reason by editor Peter McCurtin into a Sharpshooter novel. Only, as usual, McCurtin (or one of his junior editors) did a poor job of copyediting, with hero Johnny Rock occasionally referred to as "Magellan" throughout the narrative.

There are other giveaways. For one, the "Rock" presented here is a grim figure with a penchant for taking people captive and drugging them, eventually murdering them in some sadistic fashion. He also travels around with his trusty "artillery case" which contains his firearms, syringes, and makeup kit. In short, this is once again Philip Magellan, the Marksman, not Johnny Rock. Also Smith again works in references to other Marksman novels he has written; early in the narrative "Rock" uses some heroin as bait, heroin which he got from "the score in New Orleans." This is a direct reference to the Smith-penned Marksman #11: Counterattack.

There isn't much of a plot here, which makes me suspect that Smith banged out his manuscript in no time. Maybe that's why he turned in so many volumes of both series, he was just a fast writer who could meet his deadlines. Fast doesn't always equal good, though. And Muzzle Blast is pretty bad. It's not only the shortest novel yet in the series, but it's also jammed with a lot of characters and a bizarre plot that never makes any sense. Characters just do shit with no rhyme or reason, and Smith never bothers resolving anything.

Rock is in Boston's Chinatown looking into the local heroin trade. Here we get the tidbit that a stuffed orange cat in a Chinese antique store is an indicator that the place sells heroin. The things you learn from these novels. Rock buys the cat from the store proprietor Po Yi-Po and his sexy associate Mai-Lin, but the cat has no heroin in it. Rock then stuffs the cat with his own appropriated heroin from the New Orleans caper and takes it back to the store. The essence here, apparently, is that Rock is trying to set himself up as a Mafia bigwig looking to move into the territory, but the subplot is lost.

Instead, Mai-Lin comes on strong to Rock and insists on taking off with him. They head up into Provincetown, Maine -- Smith apparently was from the area, as many of his novels take place in New England, for example the legendary Blood Bath -- where Rock now begins scoping out the local mobsters. Meanwhile Po Yi-Po is back in Boston, somehow oblivious to the fact that Mai-Lin, who he loves, has run off with another guy.

Before that though we have another instance of Rock's sadism, by which I mean Magellan's sadism. Much as in the aforementioned Blood Bath, Russell Smith is unconcerned with "action scenes" per se, and instead doles out sequences in which Rock just murders his enemies in cold blood. In another baffling and unexplained plot development, Po Yi-Po is being blackmailed by some dirty cops. Rock jumps them and takes one prisoner. Of course he drugs the guy and, later, decides he'll have to kill him. In a loving tribute to the scene in Blood Bath, Rock makes the handcuffed bastard walk away, his back to Rock, as Rock takes out his UZI and "surgically" blasts off the man's limbs and head.

There's also another WTF? subplot about some punk who keeps trying to break into Rock's Mercedes, and Rock beats the shit out of the guy, but strangely allows him to live. Anyway, the plot moves on. Now Rock is in Provincetown with Mai-Lin; here they meet up with a friend of Rock's, a local artist named Mike. From what I could make out, a meeting of Mafia hotshots is soon to take place here, in the mansion of local Mafioso. Rock and his two friends basically sit around in a local mob-run bar and bide their time.

I really get the feeling that Smith just knocked this one out in record time, probably under the influence of cheap booze. Stuff just happens with little setup or resolution. For example, while "hiding" in the P'town bar (despite the fact that somehow everyone knows her), Mai-Lin is picked up by one of the mobsters, who takes her captive -- the word is out that she's been seen with this "handsome" stranger whom everyone now suspects is Rock.

The dude tortures Mai-Lin with a lighter, playing the flames over her stomach and such, but then he leaves to take a phone call (?), and Mai-Lin, who through sheer deus ex machina happened to steal a pair of keys on her way into the bar, is able to free herself. When she later meets up with Rock, she never mentions being captured or tortured, and indeed acts like nothing even happened. And this isn't just because she's tough, it's because Smith obviously forgot all about it!

As in the other Smith novels I've reviewed here, the finale is rushed, but in a bigger way than normal. Once again Rock launches a one-man raid on the mobster meeting, blowing up the mansion. Smith doesn't even bother showing Rock setting up the dynamite; instead he just blows up some shit, shoots a few guys (in another bizarre moment, Rock allows one of them to live!?), then hops in Mike's dune buggy and roars off.

Meanwhile Po Yi-Po, who in his own subplot has finally discovered Mai-Lin's treachery, heads to Provincetown. His lust for the girl is such that he knows he will one day kill her due to his jealousy, and Smith implies that this is Po Yi-Po's exact intention. But in the strangest cop-out I've ever encountered in a novel, Smith brushes it all over. Rock, after his assault on the mobsters -- and en route to another assault on them -- stops off at Mike's beachside shack. There he finds the corpse of Po Yi-Po, which hangs outside the shack; inside, there is a note from Mike, stating that Po tried to poison Mai-Lin and him, and so the two of them have left for the hospital.

And believe it or not, here Muzzle Blast ends. I mean, it just ends! Did Mike or Mai-Lin die? What about Rock's assault on the second Mafia hideout? None of these questions are answered. And there are so many other questions. Was Smith's manuscript accidentally published with some pages missing? Or was Leisure in such a hurry to publish another installment that they could care less that the book had so many problems? What's strange is that the last several pages of the book are given over to ads for other Leisure books, more ads than normal, which indicates that Leisure knew it had to fill up extra pages.

I guess we'll never know. Anyway, Muzzle Blast sucks for the most part. However we do get a great line, courtesy Mai-Lin. While at the bar, a drunk saunters up to her and hits on her with the cliched line: "Is it true what they say about Chinese girls?" Mai Lin's answer: "It depends on how you look at it."

Shannon #2: Shallow Grave

book reviews, Jake Quinn, Leisure Books, Men's Adventure Novels, Shannon Comments Off

Mar 192012

Shannon #2: Shallow Grave, by Jake Quinn
November, 1974 Leisure Books

I nearly forgot about the Shannon series; the initial volume, The Undertaker, was one of the first reviews I wrote on the blog. Shallow Grave is very much in the vein of its predecessor; author Jake Quinn, whoever he was, is once again more focused on sex and drinking than on gun-blazing action, more focused on the "leisure" in Leisure Books.

Our hero Patrick Shannon is still a globe-trotting spy who likes his Jameson's whiskey and his women. In fact the novel opens with not one but three girls hitting on Shannon as he swims in the pool while on vacation in Montego Bay, and they all go up to his hotel room for a little lovin'. As I wrote in my previous review, Shannon is incredibly idealized, but this series has to be a satire or spoof of the genre...I mean, we learn in this volume that Shannon is even a best-selling author, churning out a series of books about a spy, all of them based on his "real life" missions.

Quinn takes his good ol' time setting up the plot. Apparently some voodoo cult in New York City is hacking up hookers and leaving their mutilated corpses laying around...but who cares, 'cause Shannon's on vacation and he's getting laid. He soaks up the sights with a friend who lives down here, eventually ending up in a swanky club where a gorgeous black lady dances for the audience. One lucky member can share a drink with her if he can do the limbo, and sure enough, Shannon's the man. But the lady doesn't just have a drink with him; she of course goes back to his place.

I should mention here that though there is quite a bit of sex in Shallow Grave, it isn't the page-filling gratuitous kind like one would find in The Baroness. Yet for all of that Quinn doesn't dole out the sexual euphemisms that Paul Kenyon is known for. In other words, he calls a cock a cock.

Eventually Shannon returns to his penthouse suite in Manhattan, where you will recall he lives in ultra-swank '70s style, complete with a bedroom which is furnished with mirrored walls and ceiling. His stalwart companion Joe-Dad is there, the half-Chinese/half-black sidekick who serves up drinks, meals, and politically-incorrect banter. And too there's Shannon's stacked and gorgeous prostitute best friend, who is as ever in love with Shannon.

This time Quinn better works the lady into the plot; it's her friends who are showing up dead, prostitutes whose mutilated and heroin-ridden corpses are popping up about NYC. So she plays a much larger part in Shallow Grave than in The Undertaker, even going out on reconnoiter missions with Shannon and Joe-Dad (who himself plays a larger role here).

But again our man Quinn is more concerned with the good times. Rather than jumping right into the case, Shannon instead bides his time, more focused on looking out from his penthouse view and belaboring over the misery of the world while sipping on some Jameson's. As in the previous book Shannon drinks a whole bunch here, and I still say a case could be made for an "alternate reading" of the text, that Shannon in "reality" is a drunk who lives in his own fantasy world. Hell, the "bestselling writer" tag added with this volume only clinches it. Maybe the "real" Patrick Shannon is a drunk hack who churns out James Bond rip-offs while living in his own imaginary, booze-filled world.

Anyway this has nothing to do with the plot itself. Finally Shannon becomes involved, demanding that his boss, "Number One," assign him to the case. Shannon's method of research is so casual as to be hilarious; he basically just looks around New York City and waits for another body to show up. Quinn keeps the ball rolling with lurid scenes of hookers getting murdered every few chapters. A voodoo cult has sprung up in the city, and it likes to gather together, pound the voodoo drums, and sacrifice heroin-ravaged hookers.

Despite all of this, Quinn is still more interested in the non-action stuff. He even manages to slip in long flashbacks of not only Shannon's bio, but also how he met his prostitute best friend/occasional lover (whose name I have obviously forgotten and am too lazy to look up). It's funny, really, and while it might sound annoying it's actually fun just because it's so goofy and so unconcerned with action or thrills. In many ways Jake Quinn is like the alternate universe version of Joseph Rosenberger. Where Rosenbger is all action, all of the time, Quinn holds off on the action until absolutely necessary, and then dispenses with it quickly.

Strangely enough I really enjoyed Shallow Grave. In fact I enjoyed it even more than The Undertaker, which despite being a bit more lurid (what with its dwarf villain who wanted to hack off Shannon's manhood and have it sewn on his own body...!), was actually a bit more boring. Actually, it's that Shallow Grave is just so super-'70s.

There's a great website/blog called Plaid Stallions, which is devoted to shaggy '70s pop culture. The owner of that blog created a character to personify the he-males of 1970s fashion and lifestyle ads, and called him Brick Mantooth. Well, if Brick Mantooth starred in a men's adventure series, it would be very much like Shannon.

And is it just me, or does it look like Shannon's punching Gerald Ford on the bottom left of the cover?

The Sharpshooter #5: Night of the Assassins

book reviews, Bruno Rossi, Leisure Books, Leonard Levinson, Men's Adventure Novels, Sharpshooter Comments Off

Jan 302012

The Sharpshooter #5: Night of the Assassins, by Bruno Rossi
March, 1974 Leisure Books

Johnny "Sharpshooter" Rock thirsts for more Mafia blood in this Miami-based entry that takes place a week or so after The Worst Way to Die. With only his second contribution, author Leonard Levinson has already given the Sharpshooter series more of a sense of continuity than it's previously enjoyed. Once again Levinson delivers a fast-moving tale filled with the patented Johnny Rock sadism, while at the same time showing how boring the life of a lone wolf can get.

The novel mostly follows the pattern of Levinson's previous entry: Rock sizes up the competition, scouts the area, murders a few mobsters, wastes time between hits, and meets a few ladies. Just as in The Worst Way to Die, many parts of Night of the Assassins are composed of Rock checking out the local sights, buying supplies, hobknobbing with locals. One might complain that it's "boring" at times, but Levinson's writing is really good, and also it only serves to make the violent moments all the more shocking.

Johnny Rock, as everyone knows, is one sick bastard. Levinson's portrayal of the character might be a bit more human -- for one, he's yet to have Rock do anything as sadistic as in Blood Bath (dammit, who wrote that volume?!?) -- but Levinson leaves little room for doubt that our hero is insane. Again, Levinson's Johnny Rock thinks he's normal, when in reality he's sicker than the mobsters he kills. In this volume he shoots men in the back, guns down mobsters with a sniper rifle as they eat their pasta, murders two women in cold blood (for being "mafia whores"), and machine-guns a row of unarmed Mafia enforcers. Like an addict he gets the shakes if he goes more than a few days without "tasting Mafia blood."

After the events in the previous volume, Rock heads down to Miami to soak up some sun. He also decides to wipe out the local Mafia boss, checking into the man's hotel. Rock hobknobs with the bartender and the hotel's whore (she's on the payroll) in between mob hits. Setting himself up as a big spender, Rock gets wind of an offshore casino run on a mob pleasure boat. Hooking up with a lonely housewife (the first of three women Rock sleeps with in the novel -- as expected in a Levinson book, there's lots of sex here), Rock takes her along as camoflauge while scoping out the place.

Here we get another of those Levinson page-filling bits where Rock plans his mission, buys the equipment, and prepares himself for the next night. But again, the calm stuff is only there so that the storm will seem all the more fierce, for what follows is the best sequence in the novel. Outfitted in a wetsuit and SCUBA gear, Rock swims out to the floating casino, boards it, and blasts all of the mobsters to hell. Again though we have little "action," here; as usual with the Sharpshooter, Rock just blows away mobsters after getting them to drop their guns.

The Miami Mafia isn't as stupid as Rock expects. They get the drop on him and proceed to beat him half to death. Levinson's version of Rock gets worried and fears death, but is resolved to the fact that he won't live long. He figures this is the end, but is saved by the last-second arrival of the cops, who cart Rock off. They decide he must be a mob-hired assassin. In a bizarre bit he's allowed to leave Miami, but he quickly returns, holing up in Fort Lauderdale (where in another WTF? scene a stewardess hits on him in the hotel bar and then goes up to his room with him).

The stage is set for final payback, and Levinson doesn't disappoint. Rock buys a grease gun from a gun supplier and blitzes the Miami mob. Here we have a genuine action scene, with Rock fighting off an army of enforcers, even a helicopter. (In other words, Ken Barr's cover actually depicts a scene in the book! Too bad the same couldn't be said for his even-better cover for Blood Bath.)

Unfortunately the climax sort of spirals into nothingness; after killing his main rival, Rock finds out that one of the mobsters who beat him earlier is still around. He tracks down the dude, finding the keys to his apartment (which he gets from the two women he blows away), and paying him a visit. This is another unsettling scene as Rock beats the shit out of the guy before killing him in cold blood. Yep, that's our hero.

Levinson sat out on the next volume, which by all accounts is one of the worst in the series. I'll be reading it anyway, of course. Levinson returned for #7: Head Crusher; in fact it seems that Levinson was the closest the Sharpshooter series ever got to a main writer. I enjoy his work; as I said before, he doesn't achieve the wacked-out sicko mentality of Blood Bath, but he delivers better character, story, and prose, all with a refreshing sense of humor.

Z-Comm #1: Swastika

book reviews, David Alexander, Leisure Books, Men's Adventure Novels, Z-Comm Comments Off

Jan 122012

Z-Comm #1: Swastika, by Kyle Maning
No month stated, 1988 Leisure Books

This was the start of a 4-volume series by Kyle Maning, who is none other than our pal David Alexander. I'm not sure why Alexander (or Leisure Books) even bothered with the psuedonym, as the book is quite obviously the product of Alexander's fevered imagination. This series began as he was nearly finished with the ultra-awesome Phoenix saga, and though it isn't a post-nuke pulp, Alexander still finds a way to bring that same level of chaotic madness to the tale. Even if we have to wait a bit to get to it.

Z-Comm is short for "Z-Commando," a 5-man team of bad-ass commandos, each of whom is basically the same as the next (except for the female member, but she's just as tough as the rest of them). Their names alone are proof of their bad-assness (while at the same time sounding like the names of characters in the old Rambo cartoon): Logan Cage, the leader, who "killed more than 500 men in Vietnam;" Sam Proffitt, living lethal weapon and Cage's right-hand man; Frank "Bear" MacBeth, "part-time wrestler, part-time construction worker, full-time bastard;" Domino, the aforementioned female member of the team, who as expected is incredibly beautiful as well as deadly; and finally Zabriskie, electronics and tech wiz who despite his nerdishness is just as skilled and deadly as the others.

Alexander saves the best name however for the villain of the piece: Deacon Johncock (!), a grassroots preacher of Nazi superiority who has carved out his own little slice of Aryan rule in a desolate patch of Middle America. Dressing his endless legions of goons in Nazi uniform, Johncock has taken over the hamlet of Ketchum, Idaho (famed for a visit by Ernest Hemingway years before).

The majority of the populace has fallen sway to Johncock's virulent, anti-Semitic garbage; these sections, of course, where Johncock makes his speeches, gives Alexander ample opportunity to attempt to offend basically every race. Again though, it comes off more funny than offensive, as there's no way any reasonable person could take it all seriously. It all just proves once again that Alexander was one of the few 1980s men's adventure authors who kept alive the over-the-top spirit of the '70s.

For some reason the government has failed to officially do anything about Johncock's takeover. I kept trying to figure out why, but then realized I was thinking about it too much. Let it just be said that it all comes down to Z-Comm, who must band together again and go kill some neo-Nazis. After getting the mission from his handler, Peter Quartermaine (another impressive name), Cage goes about the chore of rounding together the other four members of Z-Comm. This proves to take up a large portion of the novel, as Alexander introduces each of the characters. However it's a bit slow-going as the characters are so alike, save for Proffitt, who has a bit of a tortured soul. He easily stands out from the rest of the team, and I wonder if Alexander didn't base the character a little on himself.

Swastika runs to nearly 300 pages, and this proves to be its undoing. It looks as if Leisure Books was trying to do the same thing as Gold Eagle was at the time -- making their books longer so they'd appear to be "real novels." Instead it just bogs the book down, and Swastika spins its wheels for the first third. Indeed it isn't until around page 170 or so that Alexander finally unleashes his trademark OTT violence and gore. It doesn't quite reach the absurd levels of Phoenix, but it comes close:

The guy closest to him caught both bursts right in his heart. A gaping red crater appeared in his brown shirt as his heart and most of his left lung and a couple of ground-up ribs erupted from the massive exit wound in the blitzed Nazi's back.

Hot steel fragments whizzed around in the body cavity like angry demon hornets, creaming internal organs to soupy vomit. The Nazi pulled some moves that would put Nureyev to shame as he spun away from the HUMVEE and hit the blacktop, skidding on his face.

Alexander also delivers on the expected gun-porn; the final half of the novel is an endless sequence of military acronyms and names of assault weapons. He also serves up more of his wacky descriptive phrases: "vomit Vikings" being one of his favorite terms for Johncock's Nazi goons. And he even manages to include some of the sadism of Phoenix, especially in a grossly hilarious sequence where Johncock lets his Nazis run rampant over Ketchum, killing and raping and pillaging, Alexander documenting each horrible act in gruesome detail.

The length of the book also hampers the finale. Once Z-Comm has arrived and done some research, Cage posing as a terrorist with KGB ties (his undercover name, interestingly, is "Coltray," which was the title of a 3-volume series Alexander published soon after this), they decide to just waste Johncock and his Nazis. Lots of great action scenes ensue, but again it all comes off like that Rambo cartoon, with Johncock escaping, coming back with more men, capturing some members of Z-Comm, the other members freeing them, Johncock escaping again, and etc etc. While it's fun, it's also obvious that Alexander had a large page count to fill and was having a hard time of it.

But who am I kidding? This is David Alexander, after all, and his books are always enjoyable. I've got the rest of this series and look forward to continuing with it; it's not as jawdropping as Phoenix (but then what is?), but how can you go wrong with a series that has villains with names like "Deacon Johncock??"