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Richard Blade #2: The Jade Warrior

book reviews, Manning Lee Stokes, Men's Adventure Novels, Pinnacle Books, Richard Blade, Sci-Fi Comments Off

Apr 292013

Richard Blade #2: The Jade Warrior, by Jeffrey Lord
July, 1973 Pinnacle Books
(Original publication 1969)

This second volume of the Richard Blade series is a dud for the most part; this time Blade ventures once again into Dimension X, where he finds himself on a world that’s basically molded after medieval China and Mongolia. Treachery, suspense, and slavery take center stage this time, with barely any action, author Manning Lee Stokes filling pages with abandon as he bloats a tepid story to preposterous proportions.

I guess my main problem with this series so far is that there’s no goal. Whereas the typical men’s adventure novel is very goal-driven – killing some mobsters or terrorists, stopping a doomsday device, rescuing someone – the Richard Blade books really have no internal purpose. There’s a vague mention that Blade’s mission is to go to Dimension X to research things that can be brought back to our dimension (now referred to as “Dimension H” by Blade and his government cronies), but once Blade gets to these other worlds he very, very rarely thinks back to Earth or reflects on any sort of mission; he just goes along with whatever’s happening on that particular world.

For example, The Jade Warrior clearly takes place in a Chinese/Mongolian sort of world, yet Blade never reflects upon that fact. Apparently he doesn’t realize that the egalitarian, almond-eyed “Caths” who live behind their “Great Wall,” fighting eternally against the war-loving “Mongs” who are led by an insane “Khad” are all exactly like the Chinese behind their own Wall, fending off Genghis Khan and his Mongols. I mean, does Stokes think his readers aren’t going to notice this? Why not just have Blade say, “This shit is exactly like back on Earth, with Khan against the Chinese!” But instead this never occurs to Blade, who as in the previous volume just goes wherever the characters and plot take him.

First though the tale opens in “modern” Britain, aka 1969 (the year The Jade Warrior was first published), with Blade getting nagged at by his fiance. This entire scene was irredeemably goofy; Blade is supposed to be James Bond (meets Conan, of course), and who wants to read about a domesticated Bond? And yet that’s just what Blade is, here; he’s engaged to be married and his fiance is pissed that she has no idea what Blade really does for a living, or where he disappears to for long portions of time. And Blade sits and listens to it, placating her, telling her he loves her, etc. What makes it more bothersome is that this subplot is forgotten until the final chapter, with Blade hurrying home to his girl, chastising himself that he’s “in love,” whereas meanwhile he’s scored with two other babes in the meantime, and even gotten one of them pregnant!

But I’m getting ahead of myself. With new improvements to the computer that sends Blade into Dimension X, his superiors Lord Leighton and “J” will now have access to all of Blade’s memories when he returns. More importantly it will allow Blade to remember his own world while on this alien one; the previous volume was muddled in that Blade’s memory of his true home would conveniently come and go. But anyway this entire Dimension X project still rings hollow and Blade has no clear mission at hand; they just strap him into the computer and send him off once again, hoping he doesn’t get killed or whatever.

"Dimension X" is the name Deighton and J have given to the network of worlds which apparently co-exist with our own, and Blade emerges on this one right after the latest battle between the Mongs and the Caths. Blade, posing as a corpse in some nice jade armor he took from one of the bodies, is hauled by Cath warriors through the massive Cath Wall. He’s taken into a chamber where the incredibly gorgeous Empress Mei looks down at the “corpse” – turns out Blade’s in her dead husband’s armor and Mei just ran a successful assassination plot on her husband and wants to view the body.

There’s a bunch of plotting going on in The Jade Warrior, and this is just the start of it. Empress Mei is shocked to discover it’s some other dude beneath her husband’s fancy helmet – and of course she’s got the instant hots for studly Blade. Plus Mei herself is beautiful and has a rockin’ bod (a fact quite often mentioned by Stokes), so the two go at it posthaste. Blade instantly “subdues” the gal with his good loving and by the end Mei’s a purring cat who is ready to co-rule with Blade…if it wasn’t for those damn Mongs!

We learn that Mei has it in for the Khad, the Mong leader, and especially for the Khad’s sister, Sadda, who we later learn was having an affair with Mei’s now-dead husband. Word soon spreads about this new guy with the Empress – she spreads the lie that Blade is an official visiting from the Empire’s capitol from far to the north, thus explaining Blade’s non-Cath looks – and the Khad issues a challenge that “Sir Blade” must battle his top fighter. If Blade wins the Mongs will leave, but if he loses the Khad wants Mei to turn over the massive jade cannon that stands over the Wall.

Here follows a very protracted scene where Blade battles the top Mong fighter to the death. It just goes on and on, from jousting to hand-to-hand combat. Just as you’d expect, Blade wins, but unexpectedly he’s captured immediately by the wily Khad and taken away. What’s even more unexpected is that the entirety of the narrative’s remainder concerns Blade with the Mongs, with Mei and the Caths not returning until the very final pages.

What’s sad though is the Cath material is more interesting. The Mongs are of course just Mongols, the same mentality and lifestyle, and it gets real boring after a while. But first the novel becomes a Gor clone, with Blade now the object of Sadda’s affections; shackled as a prisoner he endures all sorts of abuse before being “promoted” to bedchamber slave, where he cleans up after Sadda’s women and etc. Finally he is ordered to the woman’s bed, and Stokes describes Sadda as basically the same as Mei, only maybe a little more ruthless and a little less gorgeous.

There are a lot of sex scenes in this volume, relayed in the expected Manning Lee Stokes style – which is to say, overly literary. I’m not sure how the guy does it, because his style shouldn’t work for the men’s adventure genre. It’s too affected, too stilted…but then, this actually works in favor of the series vibe. But still it comes off more like something from the 1930s than a piece of 1970s pulp – that is, save for the slightly more explicit sex scenes. Anyway Sadda too is so mind-blown by Blade that she begins to cling to him, and for the rest of the novel this is pretty much the plot, Blade rising to more stature with the Mongs due to his liason with Sadda.

Plotting and counterplotting take up the brunt of the “action,” with Blade becoming friends with Morpho the dwarf, court jester to the Khad but who is secretly plotting against the insane Mong leader. Then there’s Rashtun, the Khad’s chief lieutenant, who himself is plotting against the Khad. As for the Khad himself, we learn he’s a right bastard, given to fits of madness where he can only satiate his sick desires with young girls…there is an extended bit later where the Mongs travel across rough terrain and Morpho summons Blade for help; turns out Morpho has a daughter who is of the age that the Khad prefers, but she’s Morpho’s secret, hidden with the “dung gatherers” at the rear of the caravan (they gather the dung for fuel, by the way…the things you learn in these books).

It all just goes on and on with little sparkle. Only one moment late in the game serves to bring the reader out of his stupor, as Sadda reveals to Blade that he’s gotten her pregnant. This is something I’ve yet to read in a men’s adventure novel. Blade for what it’s worth is supportive and is now against Rashtun’s plan to assassinate Sadda along with the Khad – Sadda you see is just as ruthless as her brother. But Blade wants to protect his unborn child. This adds much suspense to the climax, which is otherwise boring as the Khad gets in a prolonged and incidental battle with the “Sea Caths” they encounter late in their journey.

Blade’s never certain when he’s going to be pulled back to Earth, but he starts to feel the now-expected pains in his mind after he’s been here several weeks; sure sign that Leighton and J are “making adjustments” to the computer to reel him back home. Conveniently enough it all goes down just as the plot wraps up, with Morpho and Rashtun launching their attack (Stokes destroys the whole Sadda plotline thanks to Morpho’s brash actions), Blade being quickly reunited with Mei (who believed him dead and thus declared him a god, statues of Blade now worshipped all over the Cath empire), and Blade being summoned back home right as Mei’s about to have sex with him!

And that’s it, just a quick wrap with Blade going home to hook up again with his fiance…never mind that he just had two women fall in love with him, one of whom was about to bear him a child. There’s no resolution to what the point of this mission was, no learnings from this latest journey into Dimension X; just another day on the job for Richard Blade.

So as you can see this installment wasn’t much fun, boring for the most part, and seemed to forget what it was for the majority, coming off more like John Norman than Robert Howard.

The Executioner #5: Continental Contract

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Apr 182013

The Executioner #5: Continental Contract, by Don Pendleton
January, 1971 Pinnacle Books

This fifth volume of the Executioner series is pretty strange; it’s not bad or anything, but the entire narrative seems to be building up toward a big finale, a big finale that never occurs. Also all of the continuity and sense of a developing theme from the previous four volumes is mostly gone, with Don Pendleton now firmly in a modern pulp sort of mode. The now-obligatory tropes of the series have still not emerged, but hero Mack Bolan is becoming more of an archetypal hero and less of the troubled loner of the first three volumes.

We meet Bolan in Dulles airport as he realizes he’s walked into a Mafia trap. Blitzing his way out, Bolan puts on a disguise and gets onboard the first plane out, which happens to be destined for Paris. This portion of Continetal Contract really shows its age, as Bolan is not only able to get on the plane by bribing an airline rep but is also able to stow his pistol away in his checked baggage. But the novel already doesn’t operate in normal reality, as in true pulp fashion another last-second passenger boards the plane, and the dude just happens to look a lot like Bolan!

This turns out to be a famous movie star named Gil Martin, not that Bolan has ever heard of him. Meanwhile the mob figures that Bolan must’ve escaped their trap via plane, and lock down Paris as one of his possible destinations. When a French contingent of mobsters crack down on Gil Martin in Orly airport, thinking he’s the Executioner, Bolan rushes to the rescue. After a pitched gunfight on the dark Paris streets he sees the potential of posing Gil Martin. However this subplot is barely played out; I was expecting a few scenes of goggle-eyed fans approaching Bolan on the Paris streets, but it never happened.

There are a few good action scenes in Continental Contract and one of them comes up pretty early in the narrative, as Bolan stages a vengeance strike on a whorehouse that doubles as an HQ for the French mob of Rudolfi. Rudolfi’s men were the ones who snatched Gil Martin at the airport, and now Bolan wants to make them pay. First he clears away the hookers and then he rushes downstairs, clad in his blacksuit, blowing away goons with a machine pistol. Bolan even gets the opportunity to take one of the hookers back to his hotel with him, a British transplant who has become a whore because she wants to be a writer(?), but Pendleton doesn’t dwell on the dirty details.

The British hooker quickly fades into the woodwork and Bolan is alone again – that is until he meets what will become the main female character in this installment, a Brigitte Bardot-type actress named Cici. Yet another internationally-famous star Bolan has never heard of, Cici appears in the hotel room Bolan has reserved under the name Gil Martin, thinking that Bolan is indeed the actor, whom Cici claims to have dated. Soon though she realizes Bolan is a “stand-in,” not that this stops her from clinging to him and providing a means for him to escape the enclosing police force.

So ensues a journey down into Southern France, Bolan and Cici growing closer. Pendleton does a great job bringing Cici to life, but the only problem is he spells out her French accent, like “Bolawn” and “stand-een” and etc, and pretty soon you start to think Bolan is hanging out with Pepe Le Pew or something. Other than that though she provides a welcome and strong female presence to this series.

As for Bolan himself, Pendleton continues to write a human character here, with Bolan often indulging in self-pity that he could never just enter “paradise” with Cici and live a normal life, forgetting about his mob vendetta. In fact Bolan quite often states that he likely doesn’t have long to live, strong words that come off a bit hollow given that he’s still going strong hundreds of volumes later.

Pendleton as expected broadens the narrative with scenes from the viewpoints of various factions aligned against Bolan. For one we have Rudolfi, whose plans for control of the European branch of the mob are crushed with this sudden appearance of the infamous Executioner. But there’s also Tony Lavingi, a mafioso who comes over to Paris to hunt down Bolan, bringing along with him an old pal of Bolan’s from the ‘Nam, a guy who plans to give Bolan the “Judas kiss” in exchange for a few hundred thousand dollars.

And as usual Pendleton’s mastery of the craft of pulp plotting makes for a very enjoyable and breezy read. My favorite sequence would have to be when Bolan issues an ultimatum to the mob, once he learns that those hookers have been sent to an African slave market as punishment for “allowing” Bolan’s attack on their whorehouse: Bolan will kill one high-ranking French mobster for every hour that the girls continue to be imprisoned. Here we see Bolan once again using his sniper skills as he carries out hits, but here too we also have a little page-filling as Pendleton provides unecessary backgrounds for each of the mobsters Bolan targets – unecessary because each of them’s dead within a few pages of their introduction into the text.

The various threads come together in a final showdown in Monaco, with Bolan once again alone up against superior forces. What’s great about these original Executioner novels is how much more power they pack than the later Gold Eagle offerings. And unlike the GE stuff, Pendleton doesn’t let gun specifics get in the way of a good story – once again he has Bolan screwing a silencer onto his revolver, an impossibility that would never pass muster in those gun-crazy Gold Eagle books. Hell, you can read entire action sequences in Continental Contract where the guns aren’t even named – they’re just called “guns!”

But as a tradeoff you get superior writing, characterization, and plotting. My only problem with this volume is that it just sort of peters out at the end…not to mention the unbelieveable aspect that Bolan not once but twice lets a rival go, only to regret it in both instances. You think he would’ve learned after the first time. And also Pendleton doesn’t really tie up all the ends, leaving the fates of some of the major mafia characters in question.

I’m figuring all of this will play out in later installments, though – and I’m really looking forward to the next volume, which apparently has a kinky bent.

Invasion U.S.A.

Action Movies, book reviews, Glorious Trash Hall of Fame, Men's Adventure Novels, Pinnacle Books, Raymond Obstfeld, Trash Fiction Comments Off

Feb 252013

Invasion U.S.A., by Jason Frost
October, 1985 Pinnacle Books

Who would’ve thought there would be a novelization of Invasion U.S.A.? A movie so stupid that it borders on genius, Invasion U.S.A. is probably the only Chuck Norris movie I can stand to watch – even as an action-obsessed kid in the ‘80s, I still thought Chuck’s movies were bottom of the barrel. I only watched them out of a misguided sense of obligation, given that for a few years I studied tang soo do in the Norris-fronted United Fighting Arts Federation.

However Invasion U.S.A. I actually liked; even as a kid I realized it was just so goofy and campy. Watching it now it’s mindblowing that the film was even released, as it’s almost surreally underwritten and underperformed; scenes aren’t set up or resolved, shit just happens for no rhyme or reason, the barest of plot elements are not described, and Norris waltzes through the proceedings with his standard blank expression (his only expression, actually), magically appearing to save people at the last second, like some micro-Uzi bearing Superman.

But the novelization is great!! Credited to “Jason Frost,” Invasion U.S.A. was actually written by Raymond Obstfeld, a seriously talented writer who’s churned out a plethora of novels, both series and standalone, starting in the 1980s. He even penned a few Executioner novels for Gold Eagle, a few of which I read back then (of course I didn’t know they were by Obstfeld), so I guess with this novelization I was sort of rediscovering his work. Anyway the Frost psuedonym is one Obstfeld used for the vaguely-post-nuke pulp series Warlord, so I wonder why he retained it for this novelization.

The movie was based on a story by Chuck's brother Aaron Norris and a writer named James Bruner, but the script is credited to Bruner and Chuck himself. My guess is that the script must’ve been a hell of a lot better than the actual film, thus giving Obstfeld a lot more to work with – or it could just be that Obstfeld wrote all of this himself, realizing the movie’s storyline was so bareboned. Obstfeld is known for inserting comedy into his genre novels, and there’s a bunch of it in this novelization, but have no fear it is very well incorporated into the story, so that it all comes off as fun and entertaining, not like some poser-produced spoof.

If you know the movie, you know the story, but again it is delivered here much, much better. Rostov, a crazed Russian commando who specializes in sowing revolution, infiltrates the US with a horde of multinational terrorist commandos in tow. Rostov is old enemies with Matt Hunter, a mysterious former CIA agent who nearly killed Rostov a few years ago, but had to let him live due to the usual politics bullshit.

The novel does a better job of explaining the Hunter/Rostov rivalry. “It’s time to die,” is Hunter’s oft-spoken threat to Rostov (and you have to love how robotically Norris delivers this line…and, well, every other line), and here in the novel we learn that this line is actually due to a sight gag; since he knows he must let Rostov live this time, Hunter takes out his knife and carves an “H” on Rostov’s wrist, right where Rostov wears his expensive watch, so that everytime Rostov checks the time he’ll know that soon it will be time to die.

Now of course Rostov has a burning-hot lust – uh, I mean hatred – for Hunter, and his first order of business before launching his invasion of the USA is to kill him. Cut to the rural sticks of southern Florida, where Hunter, retired from the agency, now wrestles alligators with an old Indian named John Eagle (unfortunately not the Expeditor). The attack comes much as in the film, with Rostov leading a squad of terrorists on air boats as they descend on Hunter’s shack, but in the novel it goes on longer, and better. Hunter actually fights back here, taking out several of the terrorists – and Obstfeld also does a superb job of filling us in on who many of these terrorists actually are, and how they came to be here.

Another thing better worked out is Rostov’s actual plan. In the film it comes off like Rostov just invades Miami and his thugs wander around killing people while the government does nothing. Obstfeld works it up so that Miami is just the entrance and Rostov sends out six-man terrorist squads to each state, where they cause much hell. We learn throughout the book of some of their atrocities, and Rostov’s ultimate goal is to sow an internal revolution so that America tears itself apart. In order to do this he stages racial killings (like sending terrorists dressed like Nazis into a synagogue), attempts to break open prisons, and even has his men impersonate cops and the National Guard, who then murder the citizens who think they are there to help.

Also Hunter’s one-man war on Rostov’s army is given a more realistic showing (comparatively speaking, that is). Instead of Hunter appearing just in the nick of time to waste the terrorists before they commit their latest evil deed, in the novel he follows clues, tracking down Rostov and taking on his various lieutenants in well-done action sequences. Along the way Hunter also must avoid the cops and the Feds, who attempt to track down this “vigilante” who is sowing further dissent in the already-chaotic mire that has overtaken the country.

Probably the biggest improvement of the novel is the character of the female reporter, Dahlia McGuire. If you’ve seen the film, then you certainly remember this completely useless character, who bears ultimately zero influence on the film, and indeed seems to only be there so the producers could put a female name on the cast list.

Dahlia sparkles in this narrative, and it’s a damn shame that her character wasn’t given any room in the movie. She has a direct influence over what’s going on, and her interactions with Hunter have much more depth. In the film there’s no depth between the characters, with Hunter saving her in his Superman fashion and Dahlia cursing him out in return, making her character seem pretty despicable. The novel fleshes this out, and there’s even a believable romantic development between the two, complete with the customary sex scene (nothing too graphic, mind you). But again, all of this was gutted from the movie…either that or it was never there in the first place, and Obstfeld added it all himself.

In fact Dahlia makes possible the conclusion…the film climaxes with Hunter wandering around in some business office, blowing away several terrorists before getting to Rostov, and you have no idea how the hell he got there or what’s going on. The novel explains. Dahlia pretends to set up Hunter, so the Feds and cops take him away. This also explains that otherwise nonsensical part in the film where Hunter is arrested while he’s sitting alone in a hotel room watching an old sci-fi flick – even here the character of Dahlia was gutted from the movie. But in the novel it’s her staged set-up which leads to the news announcement that Hunter has been caught and is being held in a hotel room; a news announcement that Rostov of course sees, and he takes the bait and heads for the hotel.

So now, the climax occurs in this hotel, with Hunter taking out Rostov’s goons one by one before dealing with the man himself. (He kills him the same way as in the film, though, blowing Rostov away with Rostov’s own grenade launcher.) But whereas the film ends right here, the novel continues on, giving us an actual wrap-up of what the hell happened to Rostov’s army and what the US is going to do to get a little vengeance. Adams, Hunter’s old CIA contact, informs Hunter that the government intends to form a strike squad, with Hunter as the leader, and the ending intimates that Hunter is going to take him up on the offer.

How about what isn’t in the novel? Well, for one the movie has more carnage – I think I read somewhere that the film has like a killcount of 160. The action scenes here are more smallscale – and by the way, Obstfeld doesn’t play up much on the gore. (Despite which there are actually more action scenes in the novel.) And unlike the film Hunter does not go into combat with a twin pair of micro-Uzis; Hunter does his fighting in the book with either a shotgun or a Hechler and Koch MP5 submachine gun. Some of the more infamous/goofy moments from the film are also absent from the novelization: there’s no scene, for example, where Rostov and his comrades blow up a bunch of peaceful homes with their missile launchers! Also no scene where Hunter saves a school bus of kids, tearing the bomb off their bus while driving – indeed, we learn in a news broadcast in the novel that a busful of schoolkids has been blown up. And most importantly, in the novel Hunter doesn’t have a pet armadillo!

But man, if the film had been like this novel, Invasion U.S.A. would today be considered an ‘80s action classic alongside Commando, a movie this novelization has much in common with – the same kind of one man army protagonist who doesn’t take himself too seriously, the same sort of near-homoerotic burning hatred between our hero and the villain, the same sort of snarky banter between the hero and the female character, the same sort of irreverent spirit mixed with over the top action.

In fact I almost wish someone would just buy the rights and remake Invasion U.S.A., only base it off this novel, and do it old-school style: a solid R rating, no cgi, tons of James Glickenhaus-style blood squibs, and a pulsing synthesizer soundtrack. But that would never happen; instead the remake would be PG-13 and loaded with bad cgi, and for the Matt Hunter role they'd get someone like Channing Tatum, a guy who has all the onscreen charisma of a rectal tumor. (Actually the tumor would probably have more charisma.) But he's young and "hot" and looks like he just walked out of an Abercrombie and Fitch ad, so the producers would snag him because he'd appeal to the target audience of girls and sexually-confused tweener boys who currently rule our entertainment world, and so the remake would do great at the boxoffice, and they’d follow it up with a sequel that would be even worse, and the cycle of bullshit would just continue twirling on.

Sorry, I got a little lost there. I’ll wrap up yet another overlong review by stating again how much I enjoyed this novel – and not just because Obstfeld even found a way to reference Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow, having Dahlia read it. Just another indication of Obstfeld’s comedic skill, really, having a character reading a brainiac book in the novelization of an idiotic movie.

The Penetrator #17: Demented Empire

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Feb 072013

The Penetrator #17: Demented Empire, by Lionel Derrick
November, 1976 Pinnacle Books

This volume of the Penetrator is all over the place, filled with carnage and lurid subplots, which is a little surprising given that it’s by Mark Roberts, who generally delivers the more “grounded” installments. In fact Demented Empire reads like one of the crazed installments churned out by Roberts’s co-author, Chet Cunningham…and given Roberts’s penchant for in-jokery as displayed in previous volumes, I wonder if this was his attempt at writing a Chet Cunningham-style Penetrator novel?

Whatever the case, Demented Empire is a lot of twisted fun, and probably my favorite Roberts volume yet. (Most likely because it’s like a Cunningham volume, given that I like the crazy stuff.) The plot’s just as wild as the action, starting off with Mark “Penetrator” Hardin in southern Florida, where he’s looking into a land fraud scheme…but then somehow he’s tracking up through the country hunting down a nascent crime ring, and by the novel’s end he’s gone down to Guatemala, where he stages a daunting raid on a kingpin who calls himself The Poet.

The plentiful action scenes are filled with gory deaths, starting off with Hardin’s attack on the land schemer’s headquarters. You’d figure it would just be a regular office, and it is, but it’s filled with goons, and Hardin mows them down. Here he comes upon a new submachine gun, apparently custom built by these guys, which Roberts expounds upon throughout the book. A wicked little .22 caliber-spitter, Hardin pries the gun from a corpse and uses it from there on out, blowing away scads of scum. I have to say, I’m no gun nut but this weapon sounded pretty cool, especially how Roberts described it.

The novel is almost surreal in how it comes off like a fractured series of barely-connected storylines, all tied together by Hardin as he comes into some new place, kills a few people, and moves on. To continue with the Cunningham parallels, it must be noted that Hardin is pretty savage here, moreso than normal in a Roberts installment. He shows absolutely no mercy to his enemies, no matter how low they are on the criminal empire’s totem pole. There’s one unsettling scene where he murders a crook while the man’s wife sits nearby, and at the climax he leaves another villain to suffer a horrible fate in the grip of an anaconda.

Roberts also packs on the lurid and exploitative stuff. The biggest instance is a subplot concerning Malcom Stone, one of the Poet’s executives, who runs a porn ring out of Nebraska. But this is porn of the sick and warped variety; Hardin comes upon a few films and watches them in disgust on a rented projector. Roberts continues to build upon the twisted element here, culminating in a bizarre scene where an actress is apparently blown up on film. Throughout these movies a gorgeous redhead constantly appears, usually wearing nothing but go-go boots and sporting a whip, which she uses to lash the other actors, spurring them to greater lengths of depravity.

This turns out to be a lady named Nila Dennis, Malcom Stone’s secretary. Nila is a protype for the later Roberts villainess Margot Anstruther (from Soldier For Hire #8), and just as depraved, though unfortunately she doesn’t get as much narrative time as I’d like. (Due no doubt to some psychological quirk, I love female villains, the more depraved the better.) But here Roberts delivers on the scene he denied us in Soldier For Hire #8, having Hardin and Nila spend some quality time together. This scene is probably the highlight of the novel, with Nila so overwhelmed by Hardin’s skills in the sack that she forgets to call in Malcom Stone, who’s waiting outside for Nila’s signal to come in and kill Hardin!

Actually there’s a pretty strong focus on sex here, again moreso like what you’d expect to find in one of Cunningham’s Penetrator novels. Hardin gets it on with two different women, the first time with Nila Dennis and then later on with the beautiful proprietor of a hotel in Mexico…this scene is particularly Cunningham-esque, with the woman coming on to Hardin mere moments after meeting him, offering her Jeep in exchange for some good lovin’!

The sex scenes are just as purple prosed as you’d want, but more fun is how Roberts keeps reminding us of them throughout…both women continuously marvel over how good Hardin was, including an unforgettable bit where Nila, days after the event, reflects over “the warm glow in her loins.” Wow! I guess Hardin calls himself “The Penetrator” for more reasons than one. (Sorry, couldn’t resist…)

There’s enough material in Demented Empire for a few books, from Hardin’s entry into a knife-throwing competition(?), to an attack on Hardin by a group of bikers, to even the familiar old saw about the small-time sheriff who quickly figures out who Hardin is but decides to help him anyway. Not to mention a random scene where Roberts details how difficult it is to pilot a small plane through a heavy thunderstorm, nor a subplot where Hardin’s old pal Tony Rossi (from #12: Bloody Boston -- a Cunningham novel, by the way) tries to get Hardin to work for the Mafia! Even the last chapter of the novel is sort of arbitrary, with Roberts delving into full-on gun-porn as Hardin, back in his HQ, goes over what weapons he’s used on past missions and how each performed, and also designs his own machine gun for use in future missions.

So while it lacks much direction or control, I still think Demented Empire is one of the most entertaining entries in the series yet. Roberts is more focused on delivering a string of sex and violence-heavy scenes than on delivering a taut story, but when those scenes are so well done, who can complain? At any rate Demented Empire is leagues above the previous volume, which was by Cunningham…meaning that Roberts bested Cunningham by delivering a sort of imitation that’s better than the original.

Back in my review for #9: Dodge City Bombers, I wondered if Roberts’s mention of a character in Texas named “Crawford” might’ve been an in-joke reference to Texas-based Pinnacle house writer William Crawford, aka the man who penned the infamous 16th installment of the Executioner series, Sicilian Slaughter, as “Jim Peterson.” It must’ve been a reference to him after all, as Roberts actually dedicates Demented Empire to Crawford.

The Hitman #1: Chicago Deathwinds

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Jan 072013

The Hitman #1: Chicago Deathwinds, by Norman Winski
March, 1984 Pinnacle Books

I first learned about this obscure, three-volume series via Brad Mengel’s Serial Vigilantes of Paperback Fiction, and though Brad’s description intrigued me, when I read Zwolf’s awesome and hilarious review of this first volume on The Mighty Blowhole, I knew I had to read it. I’m just sorry it took me so long. While it isn’t completely perfect, Chicago Deathwinds does reach some absurd heights and is just as goofy and fun as Zwolf says.

Norman Winski also wrote Able Team #2: The Hostaged Island, which, despite featuring a plot about bikers taking over an island, was actually more “realistic” than this first installment of The Hitman (not to be confused, by the way, with Kirby Carr’s earlier Hitman series). But then, Winski was hamstrung by Gold Eagle’s editorial policies for Able Team; here, presumably, he was allowed to give free reign to his own warped interests, so that Chicago Deathwinds comes off like a gore and sex-filled Looney Tunes cartoon.

Our protagonist is Dirk Spencer, a good-looking blonde treetrunk of 100% MAN who not only kicked a bunch of ass in ‘Nam but is also the son of a mega-rich tycoon and thus has millions of his own. Dirk is so often and so consistently described in the narrative as “the big blonde viking” and etc that it all just storms right over the edge of satire and straight into parody. Practically every time Dirk is mentioned we’re either reminded of his huge muscles, his height, his rugged but handsome features, or his powerful blue eyes.

Dirk Spencer is full-on wish fulfillment, driving around in his customized red Lamborghini Countach S (we’re told it’s the only one in the world), bedding one gorgeous woman after another, living the general high life as he jetsets about all the happening places on the globe. Despite which we’re told his life lacks meaning(!), and now, over a decade after returning from Vietnam, he feels adrift…he wants to make a difference in the world, to use his powers for the good of man, but doesn’t know what he can do.

Luckily Winski doesn’t spin his wheels; within the first few pages a black family Dirk is friendly with is killed by corrupt security guards who make it look like some drug-related gangland killing. Able to see through to the truth of the matter, Dirk buys a bunch of guns (including a rocket launcher), some fancy high-tech scrambling equipment, and stalks the two thugs. The scene in which he gives them their comeuppance is pretty great, with Dirk forcing the two to beat each other half to death, then blowing them away, then blasting their car with his rocket launcher!

Dirk gets such a feeling of self-worth from this that he decides to become a fulltime crimefighter. Dubbing himself “The Hitman,” he now goes about “undercover” in his Lamborgini (remember, there’s only one like it in the entire world), decked out in a black combat suit. Like Kirby Carr’s Hitman, this Hitman also wears a mask, a “black nylon stocking mask with eye slits.” Winski picks up the narrative a year later, and now Dirk is well into his new career, operating out of his Chicago penthouse and planning his next job.

This turns out to be a megalomaniacal politician named Augustus P. Murdoch who is an American Hitler in all but name, a type of character who can only exist in an action series novel. A West Virginia native(!), Murdoch lives in a high-security compound in Illinois, surrounded by armed goons (the Sentinels). He's the figurehead behind the Nazi-like SPPA, the Society for the Protection of Pure Americanism, and of course his lunkheaded vitriol goes down great in the heartland. Dirk wants Murdoch dead not just due to his far-right sentiments but also because the guy was allegedly involved in some assassinations, including the bombing of a bus filled with Mexican immigrants. But most worringly, his public support is gaining and Dirk fears the bastard might become president someday.

That goofy but lurid opening has you expecting a rollercoaster ride, but once Murdoch is introduced Winski spins his wheels for quite some time. There’s very little action – of the guns and fistfights variety, at least. Winski doesn’t shy on the sex scenes and they’re all pretty damn funny. Dirk it seems has an excess of wrathful energy, particularly before going on a mission, and so will sap himself by hiring hookers when necessary. And yeah, “hookers” in the plural. (Of course, we’re informed that they’re “high-class” hookers. Only the best for Dirk!)

There’s also a much too long sequence where Dirk goes to West Virginia, hooks up with some locals, and plots to assassinate Murdoch during a festival here in his hometown. In a burst of pure deus ex machina it develops that Dirk also has a passing interest in daredevil flying, so he spots a prime opportunity when it turns out that part of the rally will involve daredevil stunt flyers! Dirk commandeers a plane and pulls off a fly-by shooting with an Uzi! It’s all so dumb and goofy you just have to laugh, especially when it’s revealed that Dirk merely killed a stand-in.

Winski has fun with the female villain, a gorgeous seductress named Sabrina who gets off on torture. She’s a pulpy villainess very much in the vein of Margot Anstruther, from Mark Roberts’s Soldier For Hire #8: Jakarta Coup. (Humorously, Winski constantly uses the adjective "serpentine" to describe her.) Sabrina works as Murdoch's secretary and by all appearances is second in command, so Dirk moves in on her. In order to insinuate himself into the fold, Dirk pretends to be a supporter of the SPPA. Soon enough he’s getting in bed with Sabrina, but for some reason Winski shies away from detailing what would have undoubtedly been a whopper of a scene. He does spend a lot of time leading up to it, though, including this stunner of a pargraph:

Cruising leisurely along Lake Shore Drive, Lake Michigan on their right a molten dull silver reflecting a lead bullet moon, the Hitman learned two more personal items about Sabrina. One, she had an M.A. in business administration from the University of Chicago and, two, she was into fondling a man's balls as he drove, while she kept her other hand busy caressing herself.

The tale of course climaxes with Dirk, in his Hitman garb, pulling a one-man-army raid on the compound. The bastards have kidnapped a lady named Valerie, a TV journalist who was doing an expose on the SPPA, and wouldn’t you know it, Valerie just happens to be the only woman Dirk has ever loved. (Naturally, he had to break it off because the Hitman can’t get involved.) What’s funny is that Dirk knows they have her, even though she’s officially reported as “missing,” but he waits about a week to rescue her.

Winski’s action scenes lack the flourish of David Alexander, but they’re still appropriately gory. It seems that every time Dirk shoots someone with his Uzi he saws them in half. The finale also packs on a bunch of lurid stuff, with Dirk arriving to rescue Valerie just as she’s being sodomized by Murdoch in a De Sade-inspired dungeon, while Sabrina meanwhile stands by with a whip, forcing Valerie to perform cunnilingus on her!

But as mentioned it’s all just so goofy that you can’t take it seriously. Dirk blows away the villains and saves Valerie – who as you’ll recall has been tortured and raped for the past week – and he’s immediately checking out her "extraordinary lovely breasts" and wondering when they can spend some quality time together! Even funnier is that Valerie feels the same way! I guess Sabrina and Murdoch just served to get her in the mood.

Also worth noting is that Dirk is like an action movie hero in that he doesn’t just shoot the antagonist; no, he goes to extremes to really kill the bastard in a novel way. Also, like a few other men’s adventure heroes, the Hitman leaves behind a calling card: a false eye and a false set of teeth, symbolizing “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” However Dirk has to explain this to his enemies; note to all potential men’s adventure protagonists: If you have to explain your calling card, you need to get a new one.

Anyway, Chicago Deathwinds is both goofy and great; the opening and ending are lots of crazy fun, but the entire middle half is a bit padded. Not that this will stop me from eagerly reading the next two installments.

The Destroyer #10: Terror Squad

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Dec 202012

The Destroyer #10: Terror Squad, by Richard Sapir and Warren Murphy
June, 1973 Pinnacle Books

I haven’t read a Destroyer novel since I was a kid, back when the now-forgotten film version came out in 1985. I know I had the novelization of the film, which I read, but I also had a few of the then-current volumes in the series, but I don’t remember which ones. At any rate, I know they weren’t my cup of tea, given that I was more into Phoenix Force and The Executioner at the time; I wanted to read about terrorists getting blasted to bits, not a warped spoof featuring a disinterested protagonist and his soap opera-addicted mentor.

But the other week I lucked into about twenty volumes of the series, ranging from this tenth volume on through to #73, which should give me a good indication of the series’s evolution over the years. What’s most staggering is the Destroyer series is still around; though it hasn’t been published since 2008, series co-creator Warren Murphy is still out there and supposedly trying to find the series a new home. It also appears that he’s made the majority of the installments available as eBooks.

Terror Squad though comes early in the series run, back when it was published by Pinnacle and series creators Murphy and Sapir were still writing the books together. By this point they’ve figured out the series vibe, which is a mix of satire, spoof, and action. My feeling though is that the comedy outweighs the action here; in fact the very few action scenes are barely described, and there’s little tension or suspense because the heroes are presented as such invincible fighters.

Remo Williams is the titular “Destroyer,” a former New Jersey cop whose death was faked so he could be reborn as the sole enforcer for CURE, a super-secret US agency which is overseen by Dr. Harold Smith. Remo’s mentor is Chiun, without question the highlight of this series, a wizened and world-weary Korean martial arts guru; the master of Sinanju, which apparently is the ultimate form of martial arts, though only known to a handful. By this tenth volume, Chiun feels that he has so properly trained his pupil that Remo is nearly “perfect,” and is grooming him to become the eventual master of Sinanju.

The novel is more comedy than action, which makes the brutality somewhat unexpected, lending Terror Squad an uncertain tone. The threat this time is an international army of terrorists which has abruptly sprouted up, hijaking planes and murdering people around the world. The novel opens with one cell hijacking a plane, during which they repeatedly rape a woman and then murder her baby.

After this horrific scene the novel settles down into extended bouts of banter between Remo and Chiun as they go off on a low-key search for the terrorists. Strangely, the terrorists in the opening scene are never mentioned again, so there’s no retribution. Instead Remo and Chiun head over to a college campus in New York from which this new terrorist army either trained or gathered new members.

In a coed-frequented bar Remo encounters Joan Hacker, a pretty blond who turns out to not only be filled with revolutionary fervor but also knows members of this terrorist army. This plot turns out to bear the brunt of the narrative; rather than traipsing around the world, taking on this international terrorist army, Remo instead hangs out here in New York, following Joan Hacker around and taking out the few assassins she sends after him.

Because, coincidentally enough, Joan also just happens to be working with the number one man behind the terrorist army, an “Oriental” whom the authors keep a mystery until the surprise reveal at the end. Following the man’s advice, Joan gets specific assassins to try to kill Remo – an old man, a thin man, etc – all as part of the mystery villain’s attempt to send Chiun a message.

The action scenes are brief and sparsely described. In fact they’re over in a few sentences, and usually relayed from the point of view of Remo’s victims; we’ll read that Remo rips off a guy’s fingers or something. Don’t expect much “true” action stuff, save for the finale, where Remo engages in a martial arts battle with the mystery man. (Spoiler warning: It’s Nuihc, Chiun’s nephew, who apparently has fought with Remo and Chiun in a previous installment, and who considers himself the true master of Sinanju.)

But really, the entire novel plays out on a humdrum level…Remo following Joan (after sleeping with her, of course, though don’t expect much from the sex scenes either), hastily dispatching the latest assassin (one of whom is an elderly German who once was an SS sadist), and then going back to his hotel to trade banter with Chiun.

Readers of this series know that it’s the banter that’s the true star, though. Remo and Chiun have a great rapport, with Chiun’s acidic whit fairly dripping off the page, and Remo’s lame attempts at comebacks always drawing a laugh. Without question the two leads of the Destroyer are more memorable and entertaining than the average men’s adventure protagonist, but at the same time the series is separate from the genre in that it operates on an entirely different vibe.

Also worth mentioning is that our heroes are friggin’ vicious. Remo doesn’t just kill his opponents, he pulls them apart. One brutal scene has Remo board a plane that’s been hijacked, and after questioning the terrorists he hurls each of them off of the plane! Also there is a nasty undertone in that anyone who finds out about CURE must end up dead. It gets to be that you feel sorry for the villains, in particular Joan Hacker, whom the authors portray as a good-natured fool who has gone astray.

Anyway, I wasn’t blown away by Terror Squad, but I enjoyed it enough that I’m happy I have several more volumes of the series to read.

Death Merchant #20: Hell In Hindu Land

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Dec 062012

Death Merchant #20: Hell In Hindu Land, by Joseph Rosenberger
January, 1977 Pinnacle Books

Like I've said before, Joseph Rosenberger had some good days, and he had some bad days. Hell In Hindu Land must’ve been written during one of those bad days; it has more in common with Rosenberger’s execrable Mace series than it does with genuinely-good Rosenberger books like The Cosmic Reality Kill. Like those Mace books, Hell In Hindu Land is nothing but an endless trawl of fight scenes, on and on and on, to such a point that the interesting (and positively sci-fi) plot is lost.

Rosenberger wrote for Fate and other fringe science magazines, and he puts his “research” to use here. Richard “Death Merchant” Camellion’s latest mission sees him heading into the depths of India, where he is to locate an ancient Buddhist monastery which supposedly sits overtop a room filled with ultra high-tech devices and dead aliens -- ancient aliens, at that. And Rosenberger doesn’t shirk on his promise…even though it takes 150 pages, we do finally see those aliens, and the plot isn’t just written off with a Scooby-Doo type of a cop-out ending.

But in order to get there, first we must endure Rosenberger’s penchant for overly-detailed fight scenes. It’s frustrating because this is the first Death Merchant novel I’ve read that features endless fight scenes on the level of Mace. Parts of it even read like a Mace novel, with paragraphs and paragraphs of Camellion using obscure kung-fu moves to beat his enemies to death. But I say “frustrating” because the previous Death Merchant novels I’ve read have been more carefully constructed, less reliant on nonstop action and fighting.

Camellion hooks up with a team of Indian nationals in Calcutta, then flies with them out into the wildlands surrounding it. There they will make their way through treacherous country to the Buddhist temple. Camellion’s team is made up of Hindus, and Rosenberger is sure to remind us quite often that Indian Hindus just positively fucking despise Buddhists, and indeed part of Camellion’s team is made up of an Indian strike force which is looking forward to killing the (unarmed) monks so as to test out some new weaponry!

A KGB-backed commando squad is also on their way to the monastery; the reason Camellion’s been tasked with this mission is that both the CIA and the KGB found out about the place at the same time. We get the usual Rosenberger inessential bits from the Russian’s perspective…they know the infamous Death Merchant is with the other team, but like the pig farmer fools they are (in Rosenberger’s mind, at least) they discount Camellion, thinking he’s nothing more than a hunter who’s gone along for the trip!

This early in the series Rosenberger hasn’t worked out the later mainstays. There’s no mention of the Cosmic Lord of Death or auras or much other metaphysical stuff. However, earlier mainstays are gone – Camellion doesn’t put on a costume or impersonate anyone. In fact he spends the whole book in a Stetson hat, even getting pissed off when it’s later damaged in a firefight.

Also, there are no footnotes, which is a shame; instead, Rosenberger clunkily works his background detail into the dialog, so that it comes off as utter exposition. And what’s really bad is that he inserts these expositionary bits with no consideration of the scene at hand…literally, there are scenes where, immediately after a massive and gory shootout, Camellion and one of the Indians will converse about ancient astronomy! I mean, standing right there amid the bloody corpses!

Granted, some of this detail is interesting, and Rosenberger shows his Fate roots. Really though these blasts of exposition bring to mind the somewhat-similar Mind Masters series. And as mentioned the aliens and their technology do come in to play, though it seemingly takes forever to get to them. Hell, even when Camellion and team have finally infiltrated “the Room” beneath the monastery, with its weird and eternal blue light and selection of bizarre, alien machinery, Rosenberger spends more time on yet another action scene, where a traitor in the party attacks Camellion. Mind you, this is after a thirty or forty-page action sequence.

The aliens are dead, or at least in suspended animation, perfectly preserved in clear cases that can’t be opened. They’re the little gray ones of current popular myth, with the big black eyes and etc. Humorously enough, Camellion shows absolutely no interest in them, or amazement at the discovery. Instead he’s more concerned with getting a document out of there which apparently contains the sum knowledge of the aliens – a “book” of alien material which the monks have been working on translating over the past few centuries. Otherwise Camellion is unmoved, as if seeing the corpses of centuries-dead aliens is just par for the course.

Rosenberger unfortunately doesn’t delve into the other stuff supposedly there among the aliens, their high-tech devices which allowed them to manipulate energy and whatnot. But this I’ve found is typical of Rosenberger…lots of potential, little delivery. It blows my mind that the guy would be brave enough to come up with such crazy plots – I mean, imagine Mack Bolan coming across alien corpses – and yet not have the conviction to follow the crazy plots through. If you’ve introduced aliens into your tale, spend more time on them and less on endless action scenes. Action scenes which, per the Rosenberger norm, do little to excite the reader.

Hell In Hindu Land started off a loose trilogy, one which was continued in the next volume: #21: The Pole Star Secret. In this volume the head Buddhist monk informs Camellion that there are two other alien bases on the planet, the other being in the North Pole; Camellion ends the tale already planning a trip there. And I believe the trilogy concluded with #30: Shambhala Strike, though the final volume of the series, #70: The Greenland Mystery, was also about Camellion searching for a crashed UFO.

The Penetrator #16: Deepsea Shootout

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Nov 292012

The Penetrator #16: Deepsea Shootout, by Lionel Derrick
September, 1976 Pinnacle Books

Man, what a misfire of a Penetrator novel. Easily the worst volume yet of the series, Deepsea Shootout comes off like a lazy first draft from Chet Cunningham, who usually delivers the more unhinged installments. This time it’s the narrative itself that’s unhinged, never certain what its plot is, hopscotching all over the place in a desperate attempt to fill pages. Most unforgiveably, it’s boring, something which can’t be said about Cunningham’s previous sadistic offerings.

Even the back cover can’t figure out what the storyline is – the blurb has you thinking Mark “Penetrator” Hardin is heading to the Caribbean to save Dr. Jamison Hutch, an archeologist who’s gone missing. Instead we open with Hardin posing as a reporter as he just sort of hangs around on the young archeologist’s boat; Hutch is down here searching for a sunken Spanish galleon from the 17th century, and has brought along his attractive colleague Beth Anne, who spends the narrative sunning in her bikini and checking out Hardin.

A group of pirates are working the area, nailing tourist boats outside the harbors of the Bahamas. This is the real reason Hardin has come here. In a brief prologue we meet the pirates: made up of radicalized natives, they’re lead by a beautiful black lady who happens to be a voodoo priestess; later in the book Hardin runs into her as she’s leading her people in a ceremony. Really though this character and her priestesshood and the entire bit is woefully underdeveloped; Cunningham introduces her and her pirates as the villains, then forgets about them, then introduces some unrelated guy as another villain, and then quickly disposes of the pirates.

I suspect Cunningham must’ve taken a well-deserved vacation to the Bahamas before penning this, as the majority of Deepsea Shootout comes off like a Caribbean travelogue. Also many pages are just recaps of sunken galleon ships which were discovered in past years, Dr. Hutch going on and on in bland exposition which again just appears like a gambit to fill pages. And no surprise, this stuff has no bearing on the story – hell, when we meet him, Hutch is going on and on about the Concepcion, the ship he’s certain is here in this area, but later in the novel he’s just like, “Oh, I was wrong – it’s not here,” and the entire subplot is dropped.

There’s absolutely no action for about 70 pages or so, a Penetrator first. That would be fine if the story was gripping, but it’s not. It’s repetitive and boring, padded to the extreme. In fact it comes off like some low-budget early-‘70s TV show, Hardin recast as Mannix or something, just hobknobbing around and doing a half-assed job picking up clues.

Even those weird plot elements of previous Cunningham installments is gone, with little of the sadism we’ve previously seen. Save, that is, for a bit at the end where Hardin blasts someone with white phosphorous, and the guy pleads with Hardin to allow him to kill himself, jumping into a shark pool! This scene is strange because Cunningham writes it that even Hardin feels sorry for the dude, when meanwhile he’s the one who doused him with WP in the first place.

I’m reading my way through this series, but I have to say Deepsea Shootout isn’t a necessary read. It’s just tepid and underwhelming, and actually doesn’t even seem to be a part of the normal Penetrator universe, more like a Travis McGee rip-off sort of thing. The highlights are few: the voodoo ceremony bit, which does flash a bit of the old Cunningham quirks when Kama, the pirate leader and priestess, offers herself to Hardin (it’s an obvious set-up, though), and the climax, where Hardin infiltrates an underwater lair straight out of a James Bond movie, one complete with that aforementioned shark pool.

Oh, and for once Hardin gets hurt badly, shot in his calf in the climatic battle, the bullet smashing the bone. This leaves him incapacitated for a bit, but in the final pages he’s already planning a detour to Miami, setting us up for the next installment. Here’s hoping it’s better than this dud.

The Godmakers

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Nov 222012

The Godmakers, by Don Pendleton
February, 1974 Pinnacle Books
(Original publication November, 1970)

Don Pendleton published innumerable books before he found fame and fortune with the Executioner. The Godmakers was one of those early books, published right around the time that Miami Massacre came out. The first edition of the novel carried the “Dan Britain” by-line, a psuedonym Pendleton apparently saved for his sci-fi output. The edition shown here is the 1974 reprint, published under Pendleton’s own name and capitalizing on the mid-‘70s success of the Executioner series, which is name-dropped on the cover…right above the wangless naked dude as he floats through a sort of blacklight-esque dreamspace.

It’s interesting to note that the original 1970 edition of The Godmakers took place in the near future year of 1975…a time when things were slightly different, like “steamer” cars on the interstates and a different sort of structure to the US itself. What’s odd though is this 1974 reprint retains that “near future” 1975 setting. Couldn’t some junior editor have at least gone into the manuscript and changed each instance of “1975” to say “1980” or something?

I’m not sure about the original edition, but the back cover of this reprint does a poor job summing up the novel, making it sound more like a “political intrique meets ESP” sort of thing. In reality, The Godmakers is more of an assault on conservative morality, fundamentalist religion, and the modern world. Indeed it’s almost gnostic in its disavowal of Christianity, even equating the god of the Christians with the devil. And it’s positively Carpocratian in its mindset that sex, sex, and nothing but sex is the only means to salvation. Not at all what you’d expect from the creator of Mack Bolan!

But man, if only the novel lived up to its gnostic promise. It seems to me that Pendleton tried to mirror (or at least was inspired by) Heinlein’s Stranger In a Strange Land, with his know-it-all protagonist who blithely goes about laying waste to all the sentiments modern man holds dear. And while The Godmakers starts off strong, veering into psychedelic realms, it soon becomes an overbearing exercise in semantics, given over to pages and pages of explanatory dialog, our hero Patrick Honor info-dumping on anyone and everyone. And though there is sex (indeed, the action scenes are sex scenes), it’s all metaphysical, with prose more ornate than purple.

Anyway, Patrick Honor is a federal agent who works for a CIA-type agency, his office right beside the White House. His boss is a guy named Clinton, which proves ironic in the later scenes with the President; every time Pendleton would mention Clinton, I would think he was the President. The novel opens with Clinton giving Honor his newest task; to look into the sudden insanity of Wenssler, a scientist who is helming a government-funded research of PPS (psychic power sources).

The Godmakers bridles with a pre-PC mindset; when Honor meets Wenssler’s gorgeous female assistant, Barbara Thompson, he’s instantly checking out her “female form” and hitting on her. We learn that Wenssler has voyaged to such inner reaches that he’s lost his mind. Now all he can do is scream about “the Nines.” Barbara also has a list of dates and names, transcribed from Wenssler’s rants; these dates prove to be recent dates on which various important people have died. Many of the dates are in the future. The President’s name is on the list, with a date coming up in a month or so. Honor’s name is also on the list.

You’re prepared for a conspiracy-laden excursion into politcal intrigue, but Pendleton switches gears fast. Over breakfast Barbara starts hitting back on Honor – apparently Wenssler in one of his moments of lucidity claimed Honor might be “the one,” and Barbara has detected traces of PPS in Honor. Barbara herself has her own PPS powers and, as she telekinetically unbuttons Honor’s shirt, she informs him that sex combined with PPS might be the only way to voyage into the astral realm in which Wenssler’s mind is imprisoned.

The two rush upstairs to screw. Seriously! Pendleton relays the ensuing scene in dialog (Lots of “Ooooh! Patrick!” and whatnot), but it’s over soon, veering into the psychedelic as Honor suddenly finds himself in some sort of dreamscape. This will be repeated throughout the novel; anytime people have sex, they’re intsantly sent into this astral realm. Honor catches glimpses of Hadrin and Octavia, sort of personifications of the Ideal Man and Ideal Woman, I guess the original images that Plato spoke of.

Honor emerges with PPS superpowers. The session with Barbara obviously was the spur that he’d needed, but it comes off as so rushed, especially given that Honor spends the rest of the novel going around and explaining things to people, a sudden know-it-all, whereas in the opening pages he was cynical and didn’t even believe in PPS. What makes it worse is that the forward action of the narrative is also halted, and the entire book comes off as a descent into semantics, numerology, metaphysics, and Jungian philosophy.

Now, I’m interested in all of those things, but it’s just that the way Pendleton carries it off leaves you a bit dissatisfied. Everything is relayed via expository dialog, and Patrick Honor suddenly becomes a total bore. I do find it interesting that Pendleton makes the villain of the tale the god of the Christians. Honor elaborates (at great length, and several times) that our concept of god is actually “The Rogue,” man’s accumulated misconceptions and prejudices about god given amorphous form, so that it is now an actual entity, and worse yet one that has gained self-awareness and plans to take over our world.

The Rogue, as Honor makes clear, is really just the Collective Unconscious that Jung wrote about. What I find so strange about this is that Pendleton turns the typical assumption on its head and makes the Collective Unconscious evil! It’s often proposed that Jung was only re-discovering the god of the Gnostics, the “god of Plato” and etc – ie, the “True God” who has nothing to do with the Demiurge, aka the Judeo-Christian god. Anyway, here the Jungian god is evil, and Pendleton implies quite often that man himself is the true god.

Which brings me to the title: “Godmaker” is a term Hadrin gives Honor during one of their astral-realm chats. Hadrin explains that each human being has the potential to become a god, and Honor spends the rest of the novel tyring to teach that lesson to his colleagues. Soon he has Clinton and Clinton’s wife involved, and together they with Honor and Barbara are having orgies…all to combat the Rogue, of course! But again Pendleton skips over the naughty bits and instead has ‘em all getting ready to go at it, then after a few breathless exchanges of dialog they’re all in the astral realm.

Things get super goofy when the friggin President gets involved, “initiated” into the astral realm of PPS-assisted sex by Clinton’s wife and Barbara! (Goofier yet, Honor later informs us that Abraham Lincoln is still out there in the astral realm, a fellow Godmaker fighting the Rogue!) Anyway the President is very interested in PPS research, and there follows many scenes where he just sits around and listens to Honor tell him how much evil the Rogue threatens. Pretty soon he’s even calling fellow world leaders and warning them!

It’s all just hard to believe. Also problematic is the nature of the Rogue’s threats, and the way Pendleton delivers his metaphysical action scenes. Simply put, you have no idea what the hell is happening. Our heroes will disrobe, engage in group sex, instantly be transported into the astral realm, and then they’ll be yelling incomprehensible things to one another, like “Follow me into the root square!” or “Slice through the plane and into the geometer!”

I find it interesting though that Honor, even after “ascending” to his Godmaker status, still shows flashes of that pre-PC mindset, always referring to Barbara and Clinton’s wife as “the girls” and giving them the simple tasks. Or the sexual ones…there are many other goofy scenes where the ladies go about telepathically feeling out the sexual impulses of others and goosing them into public displays of sex…all to fight the Rogue, of course.

Also interesting is that Pendleton never once mentions homosexual sex…not that I look for such things, but it just seemed an obvious question given his position that one must have sex to fight the evil god we humans have created. Yet Pendleton never mentions what the gays are supposed to do – he makes it clear that heterosexual sex is the only way to combat the evil Rogue, that men and women are of different genders so that they can combine and achieve Godmaker status through sexual union.

Maybe the fact that the novel even caused me to think about such things is a sign of its success, that Pendleton was at least getting me to think about and question his sentiments. (The novel also promotes a healthy "question everything" attitude.) However I still feel a much better story lurked within Pendleton’s concept. Less semantics, less exposition, and a bit more understandable action would’ve made a big difference. As it is, though, I appreciated The Godmakers for its ideas and its psychedelic, sex-as-sacrament mindset.

Here’s the original edition, which sported a cool Frank Frazetta cover:

Be A Tiger In Bed

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Sep 242012

Be A Tiger In Bed, by Paul Warren
November, 1975 Pinnacle Books
(Original publication October, 1971)

Like most other publishers in the early ‘70s, Pinnacle tried to cash in on the success Dell Books enjoyed with their Sensuous Woman and Sensuous Man books. There were many such sex-focused books at the time, all of them offering tips from “experts,” as well as ones that provided overviews of particular kinks, such as the already-reviewed Group Sex Scene.

Be A Tiger In Bed was originally published by Pinnacle in 1971 as How To “Make It” 365 Days A Year. Author Paul Warren is a fun writer, often going into tangents that have no bearing on the topic at hand. It comes off as very obvious that he’s trying to fill space, yet he does so in such a humorous way that you can’t complain.

For it must be noted that, for a book that advertises itself as a guide for men to become “tigers,” Be A Tiger In Bed offers little in the way of guidance or instruction. In fact little attention is even paid to how men can meet women, let alone how to get them into bed. Instead, Warren barrels through 19 short chapters, doling out “tips” without any idea of an outline or theme. We go from learning “how to spot a sensuous woman” in one chapter to reading about how most “true stories” in sex-focused tabloids are fictional in the next.

Warren just sort of jumps from one topic to the next, all of which continues to imply that this was a quick exploitation of The Sensous Man. In fact Warren uses this exact term to describe the ideal reader of this book (not to mention that also in 1971 he published through Pinnacle a book titled The Sensual Male); the idea is, you read this, follow its guidelines, and you will transform into a “sensuous man,” able to spot sensous women out of the pack, able to carry off affairs and one-night stands with aplomb.

But again, the biggest failing is that Warren offers no tips on how to get there. One of the most enjoyable things about these old sex books is the tips on how a guy can pick up a woman, but Warren offers no such wisdom. Instead he gives vague tips on how to spot the tigresses, and also how to keep them happy in bed, but when it comes to how to get them in bed, he says nothing. But then, the book was published in the early ‘70s, right at the height of the free-lovin’ sexual revolution, so it probably didn’t take much effort.

Warren does serve up some guidance in the chapters that focus on bedroom activities. Here the reader gets all manner of sexual tips on how to keep his lady happy (most of them of an oral nature), but again a lot of it is the same as what you’d find in any of the other sex books of the era. And while as stated little attention is paid on how to actually pick up women, Warren does give an overview of how to make yourself more attractive to them: stay in shape (“push back from the table” and work out three times a week) and be in style (check out current issues of Playboy and find less-expensive variations of the styles at your local store).

Warren really shines in the page-filling arena, from chapters on how you can overcome your “anxieties” about “becoming a sensuous male” to even breaking down various “myths” about the sensual life. This leads into my favorite bit in the book, where Warren, somehow finding himself on the topic of how men’s magazines of the time (ie 1971) are filled with bullshit “true” stories of sexcapades, dreams up a scenario in which a writer is meeting with his editor and trying to come up with a new sex story that will appeal to the readers. The whole thing reads like something out of Joe Goldberg’s Quickies.

As expected, Be A Tiger In Bed is filled with anecdotes of things that either happened to Warren or “friends.” In each case these scenarios have the ring of fiction, also as expected. Warren in fact outs himself in an early chapter, relating how he was paid fifty bucks per story by a tabloid for creating “true life” tales (which were completely fictional) of a sexual nature. Another standout section, with Warren relating how he dreamed up a storyline of a guy in a rabbit suit taking advantage of a gal on Easter Sunday, and how the ensuing story went over like gangbusters with both the tabloid’s editors and the readers themselves.

Anyone familiar with the men’s adventure magazines of the mid-‘60s through their end in the mid-‘70s will read Be A Tiger In Bed with a feeling of déjà vu, as the whole book has the same feel as the sex articles in those magazines. Only, it lacks a little of the groovy feel of the era, something that was much more pronounced in The Sensuous Woman and others.

But then, it’s a quick and breezy read, and Warren manages to sound both sincere and jaded (in the “I’m only doing this for the money” sort of way) at the same time. And his “this happened to a friend of mine” stories are pretty fun, too. There are better and more fun sex books from the early ‘70s out there, though, and I will be reviewing some of them eventually.

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