Oct 302014
 
Reviewed by DAVID VINEYARD:         


THE UNINVITED. Paramount Pictures, 1944. Ray Milland, Gail Russell (debut), Ruth Hussey, Donald Crisp, Alan Napier, Corneila Otis Skinner, Dorothy Stickney, Barbara Everest. Screenplay by Dodie Smith and Frank Partos, based on the novel Uneasy Freehold by Dorothy Macardle. Music: Victor Young (“Stella by Starlight”). Cinematography Charles Lang. Directed by Lewis Allen.

   First a a huge SPOILER WARNING in flashing red lights if you don’t know the film or the novel. Things are given away here you should see the first time in the film or read in the book.

   The Uninvited is a whodunnit — at least a whohauntedit, a murder mystery.

   Well, partially.

   The Uninvited is a romantic comedy.

   Parts of the beginning certainly and there are light touches throughout.

   The Uninvited is a psychological thriller.

   Getting closer.

   The Uninvited is a modern gothic.

   Almost there.

   The Uninvited is a ghost story.

   No, that’s an understatement, The Uninvited is the film ghost story.

   Robert Osborne, hosting an episode of the Essentials on TCM with Drew Barrymore that featured Robert Wise’s The Haunting, put it best. The Uninvited is the best ghost story ever filmed. It was then, it is now. All the special effects, all the pyrotechnics, all the leap out of your seat and scream movies made before or since pale beside this simple little tale of love, jealousy, and murder beyond the grave — with a human assist.

   Because The Uninvited has something no other ghost story has, something as uncomplicated as this: The Uninvited has absolute unshakable conviction. These are ghosts you will not laugh at. Whatever your beliefs, however rational you are, this movie will do its damnedest to at least convince you for its short running time that Stella Meredith (Gail Russell) is under siege by a spirit beyond the grave eager to take her life in an act of other worldly revenge. And for most people, viewers and critics alike, it succeeds — it more than succeeds.

   Is it Stella’s goddess-like mother, Mary Meredith, or the foreign model, and her father’s mistress, Carmel comforting Stella, threatening Stella? Which spirit weeps for Stella Meredith, and which wants to drive her to suicide? You will care if you watch this one.

   And you will consider sleeping that night with the lights on.

   I suppose this film won’t mean much to the gore and goo fans, there is nothing in it to make you throw up or gag, but its scares are deep and real, the frisson they induce a deep soul chilling hair on the back of the neck crawling kind of fright that for me has only been approached a handful of times on screen — the final moments of Hitchcock’s Psycho, the ending of John Farrow’s Night Has a Thousand Eyes, Robert Wise’s The Haunting, The Innocents, Val Lewton’s best, and too few others; it is the genuine fright and nerve chilling presence of supernatural evil the inexplicable, the hidden, the uninvited. It’s a stunning debut for both Gail Russell and director Lewis Allen.

   It is the best ghost story ever filmed, and that opinion is shared with no few critics. Critics who don’t like anything anyone else praises love this film because it is so unpretentiously and perfectly exactly what it wants to be — a chilly tale of ghosts to follow by a warm fireplace with the lights left on.

   I saw this for the first time at age ten (the same age I saw Ghost Breakers, a good year) on the late movie on a Friday night with my mother after a stormy night had passed and neither of us could sleep. When my father got home the next day he wanted to know why we were sleeping so late and every light in the house was turned on.

   Rick (Ray Milland, Roderick in the book) wants to write music, and with his sister, Pam (Ruth Hussey), and their dog Bobby, he spies an old cliff side house on the rocky moody Devon coast. They could never afford it of course, but it turns out the Commander (Donald Crisp) wants rid of it at a price they can just hope to pay. He’s unfriendly and downright hateful, and apparently a snob as well, for he wants his grand-daughter Stella — a moody fey girl who lies to Milland and Hussey to keep them from buying the house — to have nothing to do with the new tenants — and to stay away from the house at all costs. He is selling it in hopes of keeping her away.

   You know that won’t work. Ray Milland is going to London to arrange the move while Hussey stays behind, and feeling pity for Stella, whom he took an instant dislike to, he tries to cheer her up falling in love with her as he does. He, at least, is haunted by Stella Meredith, no matter who haunts Stella.

   Milland comes back with their housekeeper Lizzie (Barbara Everest), her cat in tow, and there is something Pam has learned she has to tell him.

   The house is haunted. And that night he hears the weeping of the ghost.

   Milland: “Does it come every night?.”

   Hussey: “No, just when you start to think you dreamed it, it comes again.”

   A haunted house, what a lark, but not to Hussey There is something. Maybe that’s why the housekeeper’s cat is freaked out. Maybe that’s why their loyal dog runs away, maybe that’s why the housekeeper won’t stay in the house overnight and frets over the two young people she virtually raised living in such an evil place.

   Or maybe it’s that beautiful room with the north light, Stella’s artist father’s studio, now Milland’s music room, maybe it’s because it gets so cold sometimes, or the way it depresses people and seems to drain them. Neither Milland or Hussey notice the first time they sit in the room that they suddenly become depressed, or the flowers that wilt while they aren’t looking.

   And then it might be the weeping woman who keeps them up all night. Maybe it’s just a depressing old place and that’s why Milland can’t quite finish his opus, “Stella by Starlight,” written for Stella Meredith, but suddenly so sad and so haunting when that wasn’t what he meant at all. Maybe it’s just them.

   Not in this movie. Unlike Robert Wise’s The Haunting, these people aren’t haunting themselves. What walks in this house does not walk alone. There is never the least hesitation about it: ghosts are real, and not merely psychological interpretations of impressionable minds.

   Then there’s that cheap scent, lovely, but nothing the elegant and perfect Mary Meredith would have worn, mimosa …

   Old houses, they have drafts, funny noises, there are cliffs and they are on the sea, winds blow, there are caves, there are stories …

   Commander: “Stella will never enter that house!”

   Milland: “Great Scott, you believe it’s really haunted!”

   And there is Stella, drawn to the old house by forces and needs she can’t explain, but somehow so vulnerable in that old place as if the house itself was both a warm loving mother inviting her and a cold murderous bitch trying to destroy her.

   After they have to send for the local doctor, Alan Napier, when Stella is overcome after running blindly toward the cliff where the old dead tree stands, where her parents both died, they learn Bobby is now living with him, and find a new ally in solving the mystery of the house and Stella Meredith.

   There was a scandal, the doctor explains; Meredith had a model, a fiery foreign type named Carmel, a Spanish gypsy. Carmel died a week after Mary Meredith was killed while trying to prevent her husband’s suicide on the cliff. Meredith was a scoundrel it seems and poor Stella has art in the blood, something she seems relieved about compared to the perfect Mary Meredith.

   Stella: “Between you and me and the grand piano father was a bit of a bad hat.”

   When Stella is better, and against her grand-father’s wishes, they invite her back for a seance. Milland and Napier plan to control the seance and convince Stella there is no spirit. Not as good an idea in practice as it may have sounded in theory. Again they sense the strange scent of mimosa, again Stella feels nurtured and warmed — and again something attacks.

   Whatever, it is clear now, the house is haunted — by two ghosts, one Stella’s loving mother, the other a vengeful spirit who is a real threat to her.

   But when the Commander discovers what they have been up to he decides to send Stella away to a home run by her mother’s closest friend and companion, a formidable and cold woman who worships the ground Mary Meredith’s angelic feet hardly touched, Miss Holloway (Cornelia Otis Skinner who ironically Gail Russell played in the film version of her book Their Hearts Were Young and Gay and its sequel) who created the Mary Meredith Home for Women.

   She worships Mary Meredith a bit too much perhaps because there is a hint of lesbianism you could drive a semi through, never exactly said. They hint the hell out of it though. Big fairly explicit lead booted hints, yet maintaining the perfect balance that is the reason this film is great.

   Miss Holloway: “… her skin was perfect, and her bright bright hair, she was lovely …” Anyone who doesn’t figure out this relationship is painfully naive.

   Just by coincidence the trained nurse caring for Mary Meredith and Stella the night of the tragedy was a certain Miss Holloway.

   Stella hates and fears her.

   Milland and Hussey visit Miss Holloway and hear her version of the story. Carmel tried to kill Stella, Mary Meredith saved her but fell to her death. Meredith killed himself.

   And then in the strangest of coincidences, the wind just happens to blow open the journals of the old doctor Napier replaced to the notes on Mary Meredith and Carmel, a quite different tale than the one they have been led to believe. Mary Meredith was a cold murderous bitch, who the old doctor suspected murdered Carmel by leaving windows open so the pregnant woman caught pneumonia — while she was pregnant with Meredith’s child, Stella.

   Mary Meredith wasn’t murdered by her husband. They fell to their death while he struggled with her to keep her from throwing herself and Stella off the cliff in a fit of vindictive and murderous jealousy. Mary Meredith is a monster of epic proportions. Miss Holloway murdered Carmal as far as the old doctor was concerned.

   Don’t screen this one on Mother’s Day.

   This is the secret the Commander has held all these years. The secret Miss Holloway would kill to protect, the secret of the old house, Mary Meredith’s secret. Stella isn’t really his grand-daughter, and the goddess Mary Meredith was a murderous harridan, but the old man truly loves Stella, he gives his life trying to save her.

   Mary Meredith wants to finish what she started.

   Compel Stella to throw herself from the exact spot where she fell, she has already tried once, the cliff by the dead tree.

   Revenge from beyond the grave.

   Murder from beyond the grave.

   And only Carmel, her real mother, stands between them, and Mary defeated her once already; all she can do is comfort and try to warn her child.

   Not really enough standing against Mary Meredith.

   Thank God Stella is with that monster Miss Holloway. But she’s not. Skinner has gone mad as a hatter and sent Stella home, home to the embrace of Mary Meredith. Mary wants her, and Mary shall have her. And when Stella finds the Commander dying of a stroke at the house, by the sea he tries to tell her, warn her, but too late. Mary Meredith has the hated child within her grasp alone at last, and Stella flees her, running in blind fear towards the very place Mary and Meredith fell to their death.

   Stella: I’m not afraid of anything here.

   Commander: “Then be afraid, be very afraid!”

   Skinner gives a finely tuned performance with an impressive scene of madness. No wonder she was one of the great ladies of the stage and American theater.

   Milland, Hussey, and Napier have gone to take Stella from Miss Holloway. They are rushing back, but can they reach Stella in time?

   The final confrontation with the hated Mary Meredith remains the single best scene of its type ever filmed. Milland, alone on a darkened stairway confronting a murderous spectral form with nothing but a candle for protection, is an image you won’t forget and the final reckoning with Mary Meredith the perfect ending. But don’t be too surprised if your courage cracks a little the way Milland’s voice does. Mary Meredith is something else.

   And, by a narrow squeak, it’s a happy ending. But as Wellington said of Waterloo, a near run thing. As a shaken Milland points out, he might have had Mary Meredith as a mother-in-law. Stella’s relieved too, she’d much rather be the illegitimate daughter of Meredith and his mistress, Carmel, than have Mary Meredith’s cold blood running in her veins. Spanish gypsy beats the cold murderous Mary Meredith by a mile.

   I can’t say as I blame her.

   The title has multiple meanings. Milland and Hussey are uninvited intruders; Stella is uninvited at the house and uninvited into the world; Carmel, the Spanish mistress ,was uninvited,; the Commander is uninvited to the seance and at the end to the house, his death uninvited at that moment; he is clearly uninviting to Milland and Hussey; Milland’s attentions to Stella are uninvited, even their dog shows up uninvited at one point and chases a squirrel who is himself uninvited; the doctor treats Stella and investigates uninvited; Bobby showed up on his doorstep univited; death was uninvited; the spirits dwelling there are uninvited. About the only people actually invited in this film are the viewers.

   If at any moment in this film there had been a single misstep, a single false moment, the whole delicate intricate facade would have collapsed on its own weight, but that mistake is never made. The Uninvited never takes itself too seriously, it never takes itself too lightly. It is never merely heavy, the humor is never just thrown in; it is vitally needed, or this film would be unrelentingly depressing.

   The spirits are just distinct enough to perceive as more than just light and shadow, but never more, they are a presence, but never quite of this world. They have influence over the living, but their power is that of suggestion and mood. At best they can make a rooms atmosphere change, close a door, cry in the night, fill a room with warmth and scent, or with malevolence, turn the page of a vital book at the right time. Even at the end you could just explain them away. Not easily, but if you needed to convince yourself…

   And you might.

   The cast, direction, effects, and script are uniformly perfect with a particular nod to Milland, Hussey, Russell, Crisp, and Skinner who all outdo themselves; especially Milland who does this so effortlessly you may miss how much of this films success depends directly on his performance, his connection with the audience, and his perfectly keyed emotional responses.

   Milland’s timing as light comic actor, his more substantial talents, and his ability to play the hero are all on display. The finale of this film would not work if not for Milland’s ability to effortlessly switch from light comedy to intense fear in the same scene, virtually the same moment — making his defeat of Mary Meredith ironically perfect. Watch also for Dorothy Stickney, one of Miss Holloway’s patients, Miss Bird; it is a great bit part.

   This was a major hit, though a follow up based on another Dorothy Macardle novel, The Unseen with Russell and Joel McCrea, isn’t anywhere near as good despite a Raymond Chandler screenplay, and the same director and production team.

   Do yourself a major favor and find a copy of McArdle’s novel Uneasy Freehold (published in the US as The Uninvited). The film is very close, and the book is also one of the best of its kind ever written. I’ve seen too many ghosts to believe in them, but this movie and the novel always make me think about leaving a nite-lite on. There are more things in heaven and earth than Horatio, or I, care to think about.

   And as frosting on the cake, “Stella by Starlight,” the haunting number Milland’s Rick is working on, was a major hit, much like “Laura” from that film. It is still a beautiful piece, and runs through the movie as a subtle musical cue leading the viewer to that cliff by the house and those final moments on a darkened staircase confronted with pure malevolence.

   Cinematographer Charles Lang won a well deserved Oscar for this. His work is impressive.

   Dracula, the Frankenstein monster, the Wolfman, they have nothing on Mary Meredith. Mary Meredith would unsettle Hannibal Lecter, the demon in The Exorcist would have been possessed by her. Mary Meredith like Du Maurier and Hitchcock’s Rebecca haunts this film even though you never see her save in a cold and forbidding portrait. She is a palpable presence; beside her Norman Bates mother was mother of the year, Joan Crawford was just a little strict, and Medea was having a bad day when she ate her children.

   It is no easy trick to do that with a character who never fully materializes on screen.

   The Uninvited is without question the finest ghost story of its era and for my money the finest ghost story ever filmed.

   This isn’t Stephen King, Clive Barker, Peter Straub, V. C. Andrews, or Anne Rice. There are no vampires, there is no CGI, no fake blood is let on screen, no green pea soup expelled, nothing leaps off the screen at you. The Uninvited, just wraps it’s chilly hand around the base of your spine with frisson after frisson as visceral as a gut punch. Like Mary Meredith herself, once it has you it won’t let go long after the silver shadows on the screen have faded to nothing.

   I have never watched this alone in the house at night. and quite frankly, I don’t intend to.

   If that isn’t a tribute to a ghost story, I don’t know what is.

   And try walking upstairs with only a candle to light your way when you have finished watching it.

 Posted by at 6:40 pm
Oct 302014
 

Josh wrote such a good post about agent/prospective client relationships that I thought I would add my two cents. The editor/prospective author relationship is quite the same. Like Josh, I attend a number of conventions and conferences every year. If I have been invited by a conference to be a guest editor, I usually do some combination of taking pitches, giving critiques, leading workshops, and doing panels. But regardless of that schedule, I make myself available as much as possible to the attendees. That means I hear pitches in the bar or the lobby and I don’t resent that. That is why I have been invited – to take pitches and mingle with the attendees.

But I too have an issue with the perception that editors (and agents) are unapproachable. At least, I don’t think I fall into that category! As Josh noted, we are in this business because we have a passion for it. I want to make offers on books. I want to sign debut authors. I want to sign established authors. I want to publish books that everyone wants to read.

There are two major drawbacks for me when it comes to attending conferences. First, I have to say no to a lot of people. I hate to disappoint, but not every project is for me or for Midnight Ink. Second, the amount of energy it takes to be “on” from 8am to 10pm (ok, usually it’s bar time) is overwhelming. I try to give each person who approaches me my full attention. Because of that, there are times when I need to take a breather, either I go up to my room for a few minutes or retreat to a green room.

Conferences for me are also about meeting other editors and agents. Because I am not in NYC, it’s important for me to cultivate those working relationships. But at the end of the day, I am a book nerd looking to connect with other book nerds and talk about nerdy book things like publishing and writing.

I am excited for Bouchercon. I won’t take too many pitches there because I am somewhat incognito there as opposed to a writer’s conference, but I will be at the bar nonetheless. Talking books, football, and whatever else comes up. Stop by and say hi. I have this Minnesota nice thing going on. 

ADONIS MORGAN – Nobody Special

 Uncategorized  Comments Off
Oct 302014
 



ADONIS MORGAN
(Nobody Special)
By Frank Byrns
115 pages
Pro Se Press

There are several respected writers in the New Pulp movement who specialize in tales of realistic superheroes.  One of the best is writer Frank Byrns as he amply demonstrates in this paperback collection starring his metahuman character, Adonis Morgan.

The five stories here detail the adventures of a man riding the unpredictable rollercoaster that comes with having super strength.  Early on we learn that Morgan went the traditional cape and mask route upon attaining his powers but the world being what it is, he gave up that romantic calling fast.  He then tries his hand at being a movie stuntman; being impervious to most kind of traumas does have advantages.  But when he’s framed for murder by a fellow metahuman with a long-held grudge, even that quickly sours.

Next he’s a nighttime taxi-driver and eventually a bodyguard for a campaigning senator assigned to protect the man’s younger, trophy wife.  When she’s kidnapped, Morgan is once again the public patsy.

As you can see, Byrns’ doesn’t offer up any rose-colored views; proving all too often that the fun stuff does indeed only happen in the comic books.  A world with real super powered people would, by the mere premise, be a complicated place.  One which he deftly portrays with ease.  From the first page, we dropped smoothly into this world and could easily empathize with Morgan.  Sometimes being a superhero just isn’t all it’s cracked up to me.  On the other hand, these stories are original and insightful and offer up a unique look into a little explored sci-fi pulp genre.  If you’ve never read superhero prose before, this is the place to start.


Oct 302014
 

Posted: 28 Oct 2014 08:38 PM PDT
There is a dusty little desert town straddling the Utah-Nevada border fringing the southern edge of I-80. A ninety minute run from Salt Lake City. The dull crystalline salt flats hustle into the rocky foothills of the Silver Island Mountains. The flats stretch for miles. In the winter they flood with water, and the summer finds rocket cars, motor cycles, and just about anything else on two or four wheels, playing for speed on its flat, straight surface.

The place: Wendover, Utah.

And it has a history. It was built in 1908 as a railroad town, and pretty much stayed that way until World War 2 brought an Army bomber training base. If it was a B-24, and flew in Europe, there is a good chance plane and crew touched Wendover. Its most famous trainees were the crews of Enola Gay, and Bockscar. The fliers and B-29s that dropped “Little Boy” and “Fatman” on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan. The old structures, clapboard barracks, box style hangars, concrete swimming pool, rot in the dry air. A light blue sky above, and a faded alkaline earth below.

The casinos came in the early-1950s. They came to lure the Mormon population of Salt Lake City across the border to sin. And it worked. The Nevada side—called West Wendover—has prospered. The casinos hatched a fully functional small city—schools, neighborhoods, parks, parents, and children. The east has been stagnant, and poor. Its only draw is the collapsing old base, the airport, and an old propellerless C-123 Provider with a sign identifying it as the airplane used in the film “Con Air”.

Its tires flat, a wooden ramp providing access to its starboard door. A fading blue runner, or cheatline, on its silver fuselage. Faded block letters, just aft of the wings and above the door, read: UNITED STATES MARSHAL. The number N709RR painted on the tail. The words “The Jailbird” below an eagle with a ball and chain in its talons on the nose. The markings are right; matching perfectly with the “The Jailbird” from the film. The interior is torn apart. A cavernous bay occupies the majority. Bare aluminum walls, the odd wire lifting from the surface. A Gatorade bottle jammed in an I-beam near the ceiling.

The cockpit is barren. Aluminum shine with little else. Two small windows stare at the desolate desert. The original stick—wheel, I think, in this case—is replaced with something like a steering wheel from a bus. If it ever flew it was long ago. In the film the old airbase fronted for “Turner Field”; the desert location where the convict crew landed and most of the film’s action happened. If you look around you can see it. The unpainted clapboard buildings. The rotting airplane hangars, a vintage control tower—now restored—and a swimming pool, its surface covered with peeling blue paint where Steve Buscemi likely took tea with an unsuspecting girl and her dolls.

I have wondered about the plane for years. What its role in the film actually was, and, if it was airworthy then, why leave it to die? I did some research, finally, and what I found was as interesting as the airplane. It is a movie star, or nearly one. “Stand in” is more accurate. It was never flown in the film, but it was used as the Earth bound plane for the desert scenes. It taxied along the Wendover runways, a bus engine powering its wheels. It was in the film, and it played a central role, but it wasn’t the star. Instead it was a prop; part of the scenery. Very much like the abandoned airbase itself.

But still, it is pretty cool.




















The Jailbird, Wendover, and “Con Air”

 Uncategorized  Comments Off
Oct 302014
 

Gravetapping


Posted: 28 Oct 2014 08:38 PM PDT
There is a dusty little desert town straddling the Utah-Nevada border fringing the southern edge of I-80. A ninety minute run from Salt Lake City. The dull crystalline salt flats hustle into the rocky foothills of the Silver Island Mountains. The flats stretch for miles. In the winter they flood with water, and the summer finds rocket cars, motor cycles, and just about anything else on two or four wheels, playing for speed on its flat, straight surface.

The place: Wendover, Utah.

And it has a history. It was built in 1908 as a railroad town, and pretty much stayed that way until World War 2 brought an Army bomber training base. If it was a B-24, and flew in Europe, there is a good chance plane and crew touched Wendover. Its most famous trainees were the crews of Enola Gay, and Bockscar. The fliers and B-29s that dropped “Little Boy” and “Fatman” on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan. The old structures, clapboard barracks, box style hangars, concrete swimming pool, rot in the dry air. A light blue sky above, and a faded alkaline earth below.

The casinos came in the early-1950s. They came to lure the Mormon population of Salt Lake City across the border to sin. And it worked. The Nevada side—called West Wendover—has prospered. The casinos hatched a fully functional small city—schools, neighborhoods, parks, parents, and children. The east has been stagnant, and poor. Its only draw is the collapsing old base, the airport, and an old propellerless C-123 Provider with a sign identifying it as the airplane used in the film “Con Air”.

Its tires flat, a wooden ramp providing access to its starboard door. A fading blue runner, or cheatline, on its silver fuselage. Faded block letters, just aft of the wings and above the door, read: UNITED STATES MARSHAL. The number N709RR painted on the tail. The words “The Jailbird” below an eagle with a ball and chain in its talons on the nose. The markings are right; matching perfectly with the “The Jailbird” from the film. The interior is torn apart. A cavernous bay occupies the majority. Bare aluminum walls, the odd wire lifting from the surface. A Gatorade bottle jammed in an I-beam near the ceiling.

The cockpit is barren. Aluminum shine with little else. Two small windows stare at the desolate desert. The original stick—wheel, I think, in this case—is replaced with something like a steering wheel from a bus. If it ever flew it was long ago. In the film the old airbase fronted for “Turner Field”; the desert location where the convict crew landed and most of the film’s action happened. If you look around you can see it. The unpainted clapboard buildings. The rotting airplane hangars, a vintage control tower—now restored—and a swimming pool, its surface covered with peeling blue paint where Steve Buscemi likely took tea with an unsuspecting girl and her dolls.












I have wondered about the plane for years. What its role in the film actually was, and, if it was airworthy then, why leave it to die? I did some research, finally, and what I found was as interesting as the airplane. It is a movie star, or nearly one. “Stand in” is more accurate. It was never flown in the film, but it was used as the Earth bound plane for the desert scenes. It taxied along the Wendover runways, a bus engine powering its wheels. It was in the film, and it played a central role, but it wasn’t the star. Instead it was a prop; part of the scenery. Very much like the abandoned airbase itself.

But still, it is pretty cool.






Oct 302014
 
The Smuggler #5: The Crystal Fortress, by Paul Petersen January, 1975  Pocket Books Perhaps proving out my theory that the Smuggler series actually had two authors, with Paul Petersen and David Oliphant trading installments, this fifth volume sort of returns to the sleazy feel of the second and third volumes, whereas the first and fourth volumes were anemic in that regard. But it’s nothing

Happy Halloween October 30, 2014

 Uncategorized  Comments Off
Oct 302014
 

Happy Halloween!! My poor brother was dressed as a girl until he was old enough to complain!
But the little girl next to him, Meryl if I remember right, got dressed as a boy. 

Here we are in Philly circa 1954 and now I am in Philly 60 years later. 
Probably won't get to the old neighborhood (Mt. Airy) but Noircon should be fun.
Have a good holiday. 









Oct 302014
 
David Trevor here, wondering if any of this makes any sense, starting with the headline. Hot times? There’s a lot going on at the bookstore—new listings, reduced prices, and a 18-item auction—but there ought to be a better way to begin. I think the template’s okay. It’s certainly seasonal. But I don’t know about that headline, especially the exclamation point. (But I tried it with a period, and it looked even worse that way.)

“You write this one,” LB said. Graciously, all Lady Bountiful, like I ought to welcome the chance as an opportunity for personal growth. Right.

lenore-RHspinozaI’ll start with the auction. If I manage to time this email correctly, the auction will be live on eBay by the time you read this. The first lot goes on view at 5pm Eastern time on Wednesday, October 29, and they pop into play every ten or fifteen minutes until around 8:30. (And one item, a nice new Random House edition of The Burglar Who Studied Spinoza, is already live, because I skipped a step and posted it immediately instead of setting a delayed start time. The culpa, as LB would say, is entirely mea. I mention it because the effect is that it gets hammered down a day earlier than the others, so you’ll want to pay attention to closing times. It closes Sunday afternoon. The others close Monday evening.)

EFTDfront 2And what’s in the auction? Several items from LB’s mother’s library, some of them personally inscribed to her, others identifiable as such by her address label on the flyleaf. These include Burglar and Scudder first editions, a Penzler Books Tanner hardcover, and a scarce galley of When the Sacred Ginmill Closes. We’ve also included small-press limited production—a gorgeous ASAP Press first edition of Ehrengraf For the Defense, the G&G boxed limited lettered edition of In the Midst of Death with the Martin Cruz Smith intro, and the boxed limited Dark Harvest edition of Time to Murder and Create, signed by both LB and Jonathan Kellerman. It’ll take you less time to see the 18 items for yourself than you’d spend reading an explanation from me, so I’ll stop now. Just click this link and see for yourself.

frenchstab-2Besides the auction lots, I’ve been able to add several new books to the bookstore listings, and dropped the price on some popular items. Additions include signed copies of some of LB’s foreign-language editions. A couple of years ago, when LB moved his office, we wound up discarding many boxes of books for lack of space—and we hated to do it. So I’ve put up a batch of French and Spanish and Portuguese and Italian and Chinese books and priced them at $9.99 apiece with free domestic shipping, and if they find a market I’ll post more.

Oh, here’s one you can’t have for $9.99, and isn’t it beautiful? It’s a simpchinesechipbox4-volume boxed set of the Chip Harrison series, and I’m posting a picture of one side of the box here, but you’ll want to see the Pop Art covers of the individual books in the store listing. We’ve got five of these, and my guess is they’re the only ones to be found outside of China. Our price is $39.99, and we can only ship this item to US addresses. What an great gift for someone who can read Chinese! And so what if you can’t? I’d like to have one of these myself, just to put on the shelf, and I can’t even cope with the Specials menu at the Golden Panda.

What else? A batch of ARCs, four or five new audiobooks, and a couple of boxed lots of signed paperbacks you wouldn’t know about unless you saw our Facebook posts. 8 Burglar paperbacks, 8 Scudder paperbacks—all of them signed, which makes them great stocking stuffers. (Alas, we can’t ship these large lots to addresses outside the US. Sorry!)

Did I mention that we’ve cut some prices? The most dramatic reduction—was $99.99, now $39.99—is for the UK hardcover edition of Even the Wicked. Check the listing to see what makes it special. As for what made us drop the price through the floor, well, LB realized he’d rather sell the books than have them on the shelf where he can admire them.

We’ve reduced several popular trade paperbacks as well. A Drop of the Hard Stuff is now $4.99, Hit Me and Getting Off are $9.99. Telling Lies for Fun & Profit, LB’s most popular writing book, is rare in hardcover, and we’ve been selling signed first editions for $24.99. But, see, we haven’t been selling many of them, and while the book’s scarce everywhere else, it’s not scarce in our storeroom—so I’ve just cut the price clear down to $9.99. Now that’s been our price for the paperback edition, and how can we sell them both for the same price? I asked LB, and he said to revise the paperback listing so that it’s still $9.99 but the shipping is free. So that what’s I’ve done.

When A Walk Among the Tombstones opened last month in theaters worldwide, we were able to obtain a supply of posters and lobby cards, and sold more than half of them right away. But we had a problem with the 11 x 17 lobby cards. We mailed them flat, and while most of them arrived with no trouble, a few postal employees ignored our DO NOT FOLD instructions, and when a couple of buyers complained, LB had me take the item off sale entirely. So here’s what we’re doing: We want to sell off the remaining 15 copies of the 27 x 40 poster, and if you buy one we’ll include a lobby card absolutely free; it’ll ship safely in the same square tube as the large poster. You’ll get a nice item at absolutely no cost, and we can stop wondering what to do with the damn things.

I think that’s all. It seems to me there was something else I was supposed to do, perhaps because there almost always is, but I can’t think of it and I’ve already put in too many hours today. There’s probably a better way to phrase that.) Check out the auction, check out the store listing, and get a jump on your Christmas shopping. I’ll be adding items for the next week or so, and probably cutting some more prices while I’m at it, but if you’re a frequent visitor to the store you’ll have a good chance to snap up the one-of-a-kind bargains before I can tell the rest of the world about them. Hot times at LB’s Bookstore, by Jingo!

David Trevor for

LB_logo

Oh, right, almost forgot: PS: As always, please feel free to forward this to anyone you think might find it of interest. And, if you’ve received the newsletter in that fashion from a friend and would like your own subscription, that’s easily arranged; a blank email to lawbloc@gmail.com with Newsletter in the subject line will get the job done.LB’s Bookstore on eBay
LB’s Blog and Website
LB’s Facebook Fan Page
Twitter:  @LawrenceBlock

 Posted by at 4:02 am
Oct 302014
 
We are on the final leg of Traveling the Globe. 
Today we are in our nation's capital, Washington.


The Washington Legation Murders
by F. Van Wyck Mason


Back in Washington, Hugh North is on the trail of spies out to acquire the latest in American weapon technology. What he finds is murder, considerable diplomatic hanky-panky, and a skeleton that glows green. 

Washington Deceased 
by Michael Bowen


A former Senator, a convict serving time and friend of Richard Michaelson, asks for his help as he is certain he will be killed while in prison. When the suspected hitman is found dead and all evidence points to the Senator, Michaelson suspects that they have just scratched the surface of the intrigue. 
Washington Shadow
by Aly Monroe


With WWII just over, in the early autumn of 1945 Peter Cotton is sent to the States to check on the changing Intelligence services but finds a conspiracy that could change the world.
 Posted by at 3:49 am