All Due Respect Issue #1

by Chris F. Holm

  How difficult is it for you to talk in detail about books you’ve written two years ago? On a panel at a con, have you been asked a question about a book and not known an answer that you should have known?

  CFH: Thankfully, that hasn’t happened yet, although I live in fear of it. I think the reason I’ve avoided it so far is, I think of the three books in the series so far as one arc, one story, so the details of the first two are still fresh in my head. Maybe if they were standalones, I’d have a different answer. If by the grace of God these books endure and I keep getting Collector questions for the next decade, I’ve no doubt I’ll eventually space on some detail. And I’ll consider it a first-world problem if someone cares enough to correct me.

  THE COLLECTOR SERIES,

  BY CHRIS F. HOLM

  REVIEWED BY ELIZABETH A. WHITE

  Those who’ve read author Chris Holm’s accomplished work in the short story format are well-aware of how talented a writer the man is. He’s been an Anthony Award nominee, a Derringer Award finalist, and his short story collections, 8 Pounds and Dead Letters: Stories of Murder and Mayhem, were met with universal praise from readers. Yet, despite all that, I was still completely blown away by the tour de force that is the Collector series, in which Holm takes a pinch of fantasy, a little supernatural, a dash of hardboiled crime fiction, and blends them into a pitch-perfect adventure in a way that is nothing short of authorial alchemy.

  Things haven’t shaken out Sam Thornton’s way for quite some time. Driven by desperation and good intentions, Sam made a very bad decision many decades ago. And you know what they say about good intentions…yeah, the road to Hell. Thing is, Sam didn’t make it all the way down that road, but got detoured into Purgatory and shanghaied into eternal employment as a soul collector—if your time has come and the powers that be have marked you for damnation, it’s Sam’s job to remove your soul and send it on its way to hell.

  In Dead Harvest, the first book in the series, Sam is assigned to collect Kate MacNeil’s soul. At first blush is seems like a no-brainer since the young woman was caught red-handed, literally, having just butchered her family. However, upon attempting to collect Kate’s soul, Sam is met with an outpouring of purity so overwhelming he’s convinced she didn’t commit the crime, that she’s been improperly marked for damnation. However, one does not simply refuse to collect the assigned soul. It’s never happened in the history of, well, ever. Failure to collect Kate’s soul is sure to seriously piss off the denizens of Hell who’ve claimed it. On the other hand, improperly sending a pure soul to Hell for damnation could touch off a war with Heaven.

  Unwilling to concede there’s nothing that can be done about the situation, Sam takes Kate on the run until he can figure out a way to appease the demons without enraging the angels. Of course, Sam and Kate also have to stay one step ahead of the police, who are convinced Sam helped a cold-blooded murderess escape from the psychiatric until of the hospital where she was under police guard. Oh, and there’s also the little matter of a replacement collector—a sort of spiritual relief pitcher—who’s sent to get done what Sam has refused to do. To avoid spoilers for those who haven’t read the series, I won’t say how things play out, just that it’s a rollicking ride Sam does come out the other side of, if slightly worse for the wear.

  Of course, having seriously overstepped his bounds as one of the “devil’s mailmen” with his actions, the start of The Wrong Goodbye, the second book in the series, finds Sam on a sort of supernatural double secret probation with both Heaven and Hell. One more screw up or act of insubordination and Sam will be shelved: his soul deposited into “a useless body decades from expiring,” alive and aware but unable to escape. Madness usually arrives before death. So you can understand Sam’s panic when the latest soul he’s been sent to collect goes missing before he can collect it. Sam’s pretty sure he knows who took it, a fellow Collector with whom Sam had a falling out decades ago, and he sets out to reclaim the soul before the powers that be notice he’s screwed up. What Sam doesn’t initially know is that there’s a lot more riding on him getting that soul back than just his personal well-being, and by the time he realizes it, Sam’s once again in the unenviable position of being the linchpin in the quasi-truce between Heaven and Hell…and the denizens of the In-Between.

  Weaving together elements of Lovecraftian horror, the classic road trip, buddy action films and the supernatural, the action in The Wrong Goodbye unfolds at breakneck pace through a series of set pieces that are thrilling, hilarious, repulsive, intriguing, and thought-provoking—all carefully stitched together via Sam’s world-weary narrative. Holm’s ability to switch gears from tongue-in-cheek humor to skin crawling creepiness to theological musings on a dime is a reflection of his supreme command of his craft, and his descriptions and tone setting are nothing short of sublime. One wouldn’t have thought the stakes could get higher than they were in Sam’s first outing, but by the time The Wrong Goodbye comes to a close it’s apparent that, unfortunately, Sam ain’t seen nothing yet.

  Which brings us, and Sam, to the (purported) final entry in the series, The Big Reap, in which Sam finds himself faced with a particularly odious task: collect the souls of the nine Brethren, a group of former Collectors who performed a supernatural ritual to break free of their eternal shackles, causing the Great Flood (you know, Noah and the ark) in the process. The power of their ritual granted the Brethren virtual immortality, but did bind them each forever to a single corporeal body, unlike Sam, who is able to leap in and out of people (both living and recently deceased) at will to command their bodies for his use.

  Well, Sam does a lot of leaping around in The Big Reap—usually with a trip to Guam as the way station, much to Sam’s continuing bemusement—as the Brethren are an especially nasty group that pushes Sam to the limits of his abilities. The Brethren are also an immensely fascinating and fun group to read about, as Holm drew inspiration for them from classic monsters—variations on werewolves, vampires, Frankenstein’s monster, a creature from the lagoon/leviathan, and even a chupacabra (though this one actually called to mind the original Alien for me, complete with claustrophobic dark tunnel hunt) all make extremely entertaining, and challenging for Sam, appearances. And having been around for hundreds upon hundreds of years, the Brethren have all made interesting marks on the history of man, as did Sam himself, as Holm reveals with a very skillfully weaved in backstory of Sam’s first soul collection, one which occurred at the end of World War II and decidedly set the tone for Sam’s subsequent approach to the job.

  Which, ultimately, is what the series is really about: Sam’s evolving approach to the task of collecting souls and the moral and spiritual journey he is on in the process. At the outset of the series, Sam is fighting desperately to hold onto whatever remains of his humanity, despite having been hard at work collecting souls for nearly 70 years. While undoubtedly burned-out, jaded, and world-weary—not to mention damned—Sam also somehow manages to still recognize and appreciate the goodness left in humanity, and doesn’t want to lose touch with that. The events of the series build up and weight on him as things progress, however, causing Sam to constantly struggle with, doubt, and reevaluate the choices he makes along the way.

  That Holm is able to explore via Sam such big-ticket items as faith and forgiveness, falls from grace and redemption, while still engaging readers in stories that rocket along at summer blockbuster pace is a tribute to his skill as an author. An even bigger tribute to Holm is that he doesn’t suggest pat answers to any of the questions he raises, but rather leaves them out there for readers to contemplate to the extent they desire. Quite simply, The Collector Series is one of those rare beasts that both entertains and enlightens and, as such, is a true joy to behold. If you’re not reading Chris Holm’s work yet, well…get on it!

  COUNTRY HARDBALL,

  BY STEVE WEDDLE

  REVIEWED BY CHRIS RHATIGAN

  This collection begins with one of the most heartbreaking stories I’ve read, “C
hampion.”

  The first few days after Eleanor Tatum had killed herself, Champion was the grieving widower, with Tatums from his side, Pennicks from hers, filling up the house. Neighbors came by with food and advice. A day at a time. Be strong for the boy. Call if you need anything. Then a week. A month. Then everyone moved on to the next death in Columbia County. The defensive end at the high school. Too young. A damned shame, they said, then celebrated the boy’s life with one Friday night in July at the Legion Hall while Champion and his son sat alone in the darkness. Everyone else had moved on, collecting tragedies like folk tales. Champion woke up each morning, hoping his son was all cried out.

  Weddle’s eighteen stories revolve around a single rural town in Arkansas. The effect this creates is wonderful—these stories reverberate off each other, creating a beautiful kind of resonance. I wanted to write that this is an elegy for this town, but that’s inaccurate. Sure, the people of Columbia County have experienced their share of loss, both emotional and financial, and much of the book maintains an almost mournful tone. But an elegy is to remember the dead, and Weddle’s characters have not lost hope.

  At least not yet.

  While much of crime fiction revels in the inevitable, rapid demise of its characters, Country Hardball doesn’t. Just the opposite, actually. Most of these people just find themselves in terrible situations—and Weddle renders the gravity of the decisions they must make expertly. Like a father whose drug-addicted son has put him and his wife in danger. Like Roy Alison, who’s been in trouble before—and has few other options.

  In “Harvest,” Roy considers whether he should help his criminal “friend” Cleo rob a payday loans office.

  Then I asked about the job the other day, where they’d unplugged the refrigerator, turned off the air-conditioning. “Where was that?”

  “Old lady Dawson. Lives out past that Methodist church that burned down.”

  “Dawson? Ettie May Dawson?”

  “I don’t know. Sounds right. Why?”

  I wanted to tell him she’s a friend of my grandmother’s. That she was fighting cancer. I wanted to tell him I’d seen her not two weeks ago with my grandmother and they were both talking about how expensive coffee had gotten. How she was saying her grandson didn’t like to come over to her house because she didn’t have any video games to play. “That’s out by my grandmother’s,” I said.

  “No shit? You wanted us to stop by and say ‘hello?’”

  “She’s a friend of my grandmother.”

  “Oh. Well, fuck me, Roy. Just say so. Just give me a list of people who are off-limits then.” He laughed, shook his head. “Shit, man. You are serious? Jesus, Roy.”

  Most of this so-called “review” has been parts of the book. That’s because I love Weddle’s writing. He’s a craftsman—these lines have been worked over so many times that they sound completely natural. His style is simple, yet has a rhythm of its own. Then there are the details he weaves through each story—the details that make you think about the story for the rest of the night, the rest of the week.

  Like the traffic lights in “How Many Holes.”

  You have to read about the traffic lights.

  THE HARD CASE CORNER

  FAKE ID,

  BY JASON STARR

  A HARD CASE CRIME NOVEL

  REVIEWED BY MIKE MONSON

  Tommy, the main character in Jason Starr’s Fake ID, is a hyper-vain bar bouncer and actor wannabe with a bad gambling habit. He also has delusions of grandeur, thinking he will one day become a famous race-horse owner. It’s these traits that lead him to numerous acts of depravity: endless lies, theft, and horrible violence. He’s just an awful person, and if you met him I don’t think you would like him. His boss at the bar, Frank, is hopelessly in love with his disgusting, always drunk, sex-addicted, middle-aged wife. Frank’s son is a basically worthless and weak-willed wannabe rock star. Tommy gets involved in a horse buying syndicate with a shoe store chain owner who has the worst body odor in history.

  Nearly everyone in this book is compulsive and deluded, and possesses mostly bad qualities, which I love in a novel. During the entire read I had that exquisite noir-sensation that everything was going to turn out very badly for everyone, especially Tommy, and I wasn’t disappointed. Things get very fucked up in Fake ID and it’s just wonderful.

  Fake ID was originally published in 2000, and then reissued by Hard Case Crime in 2009. To me, it’s the simplest and most directly noirish of all of Starr’s novels. It reminded me so much of the writing of David Goodis and Jim Thompson, except that to me it seems even more directly and clearly written. Tommy’s desires and horrible personality get him into deep trouble and things just keep getting worse until things are just—final. The writing and the plot sticks strictly to that story and never wavers. Fake ID is a delight for any lover of straight-ahead noir. There is even a scene with the awkward disposal of a corpse, and who doesn’t love that?

  MONEY SHOT,

  BY CHRISTA FAUST

  A HARD CASE CRIME NOVEL

  REVIEWED BY MIKE MONSON

  Money Shot, by Christa Faust, is a supremely entertaining hardboiled novel. On that level alone it is a worthy accomplishment. I also think that it’s quite significant in other ways as well.

  So, yes, the book is wonderful just on the usual fun-to-read parameters of all well-written and creative hardboiled fiction. It’s cleverly written, with fascinating characters that are both well-drawn and developed. The first person narrator/main character has a big, compelling personality and when reading, it feels like a real person is actually talking to you on an intimate basis. The plot is complex with a real page-turning mystery. The narrator has a compelling need for revenge a reader can get behind. Plus, there’s a very satisfying ending. If you like hardboiled mysteries, you will most likely enjoy Money Shot.

  However, I think Faust has done something more than simply write another competent hard-boiled novel. With Money Shot and its hero Angel Dare, Faust has created an entirely new character with a wholly divergent point of view.

  This is clear from the first chapter. Ms. Dare is a former adult film-star turned proprietor of a porn talent agency, and, because of this she looks at sex in a unique way. Angel Dare is not moralistic about sex in all its possible forms, from the vanilla version captured in many films to the kinky sex acts of fetish flicks. Sure, Angel Dare is capable of making love, but she has no problem with fucking, just to, well…fuck, just for the fun of it.

  So, sure, I guess one could go on and on about how Angel Dare is a “strong women character” or whatever. But she’s so much more than that. Angel Dare is unique among hardboiled heroes not for her gender but for the fact that she does not have the usual shame or boundaries about sex. Check out this, from the first chapter, told as Angel is on her way to have (she thinks) sex on camera with a hot, very well-endowed young adult star:

  The simple truth is I had a girl boner. All the blood had run out of my brain and down between my legs. I’d had this semi-regular thing with a rockabilly bass player that had lasted nearly six months, but it had recently gotten stale and predictable and I’d decided it was time to move on. It had been three weeks since I’d gotten any new action. Now I found myself in a ditzy hormonal fog, gone blonde at the thought of putting Jesse Black’s lean, hard, twenty-one-year-old body through its paces. So I walked, crotch-first, right into a trap.

  Now, I haven’t read every hardboiled book out there, so I’m ready to be proven wrong, I guess. But I do believe that Angel Dare is a unique character, truly hardboiled in her frank and unflinching way of looking at sex and at herself. Oh and did I mention that she doesn’t drink?

  GRIFTER’S GAME,

  BY LAWRENCE BLOCK

  A HARD CASE CRIME NOVEL

  REVIEWED BY CHRIS RHATIGAN

  In terms of reading for pleasure, there’s no one higher on my list than Lawrence Block. I find his books terribly addictive. They’re dark, yet light and fluffy, like a delicious chocola
te cake…or a really good book.

  Grifter’s Game is a bit different than the other Block books I’ve read. For one thing, it’s much earlier in his career—it was originally published by Gold Medal as Mona in 1961, then reissued in 2004 by Hard Case Crime. (The original name fits nicely the cover, which features Mona’s eyes hovering in the sky, Great Gatsby-style.)

  Con man Joe Marlin has had an easy life swindling rich, bored wives out of their not-so-hard-earned money. But then on a “business” trip to Atlantic City, he finds two things he’s never encountered before: a packet of raw heroin and Mona Brassard.

  Of course, Mona just happens to have a husband that she needs murdered, and she thinks Joe’s just the man for the job. Unlike some of Block’s other characters (like John Keller) or a typical con man, Joe actually has a bit of conscious when it comes to killing other humans, which is an interesting twist. Also, unlike his later work, there isn’t as much of Block’s trademark humor.

  Nevertheless, Grifter’s Game is a blast. Joe enters a tight spiral into darkness, leading to a shocking ending. (I don’t think I’ve ever called an ending “shocking,” but I didn’t see this one coming at all.) This is classic noir—the foolish ambitions of men and women launching them from the curb to the gutter. And all told in Block’s written-in-stone prose.

  It’s fitting that this was the first book Hard Case published. This is a 205-page paperback that’s as tight and suspenseful as anything else out there.

  THE COCKTAIL WAITRESS,

  BY JAMES M. CAIN

  A HARD CASE CRIME NOVEL

  REVIEWED BY CHRIS RHATIGAN

  How do you review a James M. Cain book? Do you compare his books to those of mere mortals, or do you compare them to his best work, like The Postman Always Rings Twice or Double Indemnity?