I’m chuffed as hell to hear that Duane Swierczynski scored this gig but I’m not entirely sure how to feel about the idea of a TV/book hybrid. Co-creator Anthony Zuiker claims to lack the patience to read a 400 page novel, but I think I lack the patience to stop reading constantly to go watch TV. That being said, of course I’ll read/watch it anyway, because it’s Swierczy and he rocks. If anyone can make this curious concept fly it will be him.

Thoughts?

Gonna go drop in on the launch party for Gary Phillips and Andrea Gibbons gritty new Noir imprint Switchblade. If you still haven’t read my favorite Phillips novel THE JOOK, you no longer have any excuse. Go order the gorgeous new Switchblade edition right now. I’ll wait.

Then tomorrow, I’ll be hosting a party for my pop’s 70th birthday. Somehow I need to fit 4000 words in between those two parties.

Gotta go order the cake and the hookers.

Went to a party at The Mysterious Bookshop tonight. I mananged to get out the door with only two books; WAKE UP AND SCREAM by Milton K. Ozaki and THE SCREAMING MIMI by Fredric Brown. It was great to see everybody and this time, I actually remembered to snap a few pictures, which I'll post when I get back home.

I somehow wound up at dinner with just Megan Abbott and Reed Farrell Coleman (sorry, everyone else that wanted to get together for dinner.) We talked shop and ate pork (well Reed and I did) in honor of the swine flu panic but afterwards I couldn't talk them into going to this famous boxing bar called Jimmy's Corner. I'm hoping to end up there Thurday night.

Tomorrow is my Edgar Week panel "Art of the Story."

Through some miracle of weather, the FOB was not sweltering and unbearably hot as it had been over the past few years. Of course there had to be a downside to the balmy temps and that was very strong wind. Not only could I not use my parasol for shade, (it was turned inside out no less than ten times before I gave up in despair) but my perfect hair quickly became disheveled and not-so-perfect and I had to hold onto my hair flower to keep it from blowing away. The wind was so strong at one point it was knocking over recycling bins. Lucky for me it died down before my signing and I was able to smooth out the tangles and make like I was that perfect the whole time.

Meanwhile, I spent my entire book budget at Hi De Ho Comics on this gorgeous book of vintage fetish art by 50’s comic artist Joe Shuster, co-creator of Superman.

It was great to see all my friends and fans. Thanks to everyone who stopped by the booth.

After the signing I kidnapped Victor Gischler and dragged him off for dinner. I pride myself in being up on where to eat and I know dozens of great places on the east side. But put me west of La Brea and I’m as lost as Gisch, chow-wise. So we drove aimlessly, headed towards the ocean and looking for inspiration. It wasn’t until the last minute that I remembered Chez Jay’s. A classic old-school dive that seemed like just the ticket, and it was.

Later that night, I finally had a chance to catch up on Strikeforce. The whole card was good, but I really wanted to see the Cyborg vs. Akano fight. It was kind of like watching a cute little woodland creature get hit by a truck. Don’t get me wrong, Akano really gave it everything. She had a lot of guts and heart and she didn’t just cover up and run, but she was outweighed by nearly 10 pounds and keep in mind, this is after Akano had to gain just to make 145.

That being said, I can’t wait for Cyborg vs. Carano.

Still have lots of items left on the to-do list. I fly to NYC first thing tomorrow morning.

Edited to add: Photo here. (Scroll down!)

I know you’re all sick of my dental tribulations by now, so I’ll keep it brief. One of the teeth involved in my new bridge (not related to the implants) decided to go virulently postal, requiring an immediate root canal. I wound up stuck out in Westwood waiting on an available endo guy, so I placated my pain with new books over at The Mystery Bookstore. As usual, they took great care of me and here’s what I wound up with:

Leather Maiden by Joe R Lansdale
Mary’s Prayer by Martin Waites
and a nice copy of Murder Doll by Milton K. Ozaki (see icon!)

Tonight, strawberry ice cream for dinner. Then later, a foot party.

So it was great to see Swierczy today at The Mystery Bookstore. Not only did I score a signed copy of SEVERANCE PACKAGE and a cheap reading copy of DEAD DOLLS DON’T TALK by Day Keene, I also managed to work the birthday angle and wound up with a free copy of A BULLET FOR CINDERELLA by John D. MacDonald. Better than cake!

As an extra added bonus, I also had an entertaining lunch with Mr. L.A. Noir and the lovely Mrs. Noir, a fellow Gemini birthday girl.

Oh and hey speaking of birthdays, we are now officially inside the royal birthday week. Act accordingly:



(hint hint hint)

Duane Swierczynski will be signing his new book SEVERANCE PACKAGE at The Mystery Bookstore this Saturday the 14th at noon. I’ll be there and so should you.

Because I’m not comfortable with publicly blogging about the big things that are currently on my mind (specifically the new book) here instead is a small post about small things.

I received my first birthday present. A copy of Anthony Neil Smith’s YELLOW MEDICINE from no less than the author himself. (Thanks A.N.!)

Took a brief walk through the Los Feliz Streetfair with Lili, Wes, Boogie and Butch. It was far too hot for Boston Terriers and too filled with messy-headed hipster fucksticks and vegan yoga-moms for me.

I watched Rififi again for the first time in ages and had forgotten how great it is. You have to love a heist movie where a gang of tough guys put on ballet slippers to help them sneak silently into a jewelry store.

My new favorite word: Flapdoodles.

Before I launch into the full blown play-by-play of last nights taco truck crawl, Patti Abbott has tagged me to post about a novel that might have been forgotten over the years. The last time I was asked to do something like this, I had to pick Douglas E. Winter’s RUN, one of my favorite novels of all time. I just can’t recommend this book highly enough. A bad guy’s bad day goes from bad to worse in this fiercely original and addictive neo-noir novel about gun running, gang warfare and crooked politics. Fairly recent (2000) and not exactly forgotten, but I’m always amazed by how many people managed to miss this one.

Just coming out of my taco induced coma long enough to congratulate all the Edgar winners, particularly Megan Abbott for her knockout QUEENPIN, one of my favorite books of 2007.

More on my East Los taco adventure tomorrow...

The LA Times Festival of Books is a much needed yearly reminder of just how many people actually give a damn about reading. Of course it’s only a small percent of the larger population, but when you put them all together in one place it’s pretty astounding. It’s also always hot as hell. I figure those 20 dollar lemonade dealers have some kind of top-secret weather machine that cranks the mercury up to three digits every year just in time for the Festival. It’s hard to be glamorous and sweaty at the same time.

The Friday night kick-off party at Mystery Bookstore was a blast. It was jam packed and hopping and I had a great time catching up with old friends and meeting new ones.

Saturday was a long hot slog but I signed a ton of books and got to hang with all sorts of creative miscreants. I finally had a chance to sit down and talk female pulp writers Kevin Burton Smith. I tried not to be too geeky when I met Joseph Wambaugh. I don’t think I would have made it through the day without all the free water from Sisters in Crime and my trusty parasol.

By far the strangest thing about the day was the number of underage school girls (and boys) who wanted their picture taken with me. They didn’t buy the book, they just wanted to pose with me. At first I thought it was just me, but they were everywhere, doing it to every writer they could find. Finally I just flat out asked what was up. Turns out there was some kind of scavenger hunt deal where the kids needed a photo of themselves with an author. And no, I didn’t get arrested, but thanks for your concern.

I valiantly resisted buying any more books (the TBR pile is currently taller than I am) but I did receive a collection of four Goodis novels in one volume (Nightfall, Down There, Dark Passage and The Moon in the Gutter) as a gift.

That night Eric Stone was able to convince a large group of brave souls to leave bland white Westwood and venture out into the real Los Angeles. We had a HUGE meal at the amazingly named Honey Pig in the gritty heart of Koreatown. Maybe not the best choice for the vegetarians in the group (here, Sarah, have another mushroom) but damn, it was good. The food was all cooked on a big cast-iron volcano in the middle of the table. The spicy pork belly was not all that spicy, but still very tasty when combined with charred fresh chili peppers. I also really liked the simple dish of sesame oil, salt and pepper for dipping. The best moment of the night was the looks of horror on everyone else’s face (except Eric, of course) when the waiter tossed a large whole squid on the cooker (“Free!” he told us) and then started chopping it up with scissors. Charbroiled Cthulhu! I think I must have eaten almost the whole thing myself. It was so delicious, if I described it you would go mad!

Sunday was mostly spent trying to recover and make up for the lost word count. I figured one day at the Festival this year would be more than enough.

Back at it...

Thanks to Swierczy for this link to best pulp paperback blog EVER. Hilarious!

Meanwhile, come out and see me today at the L.A. Times Festival of Books. I’m signing at the Mystery Bookstore booth (#411) from noon to 1 pm and then at the Sister in Crime booth (#355) from 4-6pm.

I attended the last night of Noir City at the Egyptian to catch one of my all time favorites NIGHT AND THE CITY on the big screen, along with a rare Ida Lupino melodrama called WOMAN IN HIDING. What was particularly interesting about the screening of NIGHT was that it was a British print. I have the Criterion DVD, which I watch compulsively, and right away I noticed substantial differences. Familiar scenes were gone and new scenes were added. Nothing major, just little things here and there. Even though I missed the things that were cut (particularly the scene where Helen tells Nosseross how much he disgusts her) and the editing itself was choppy and not very well done, it was fascinating to see the alternate scenes. Alan Rode told me that this cut was done without director Dassin’s knowledge or permission. I wonder why… Now I’ll have to go back to the DVD and sift through the supplements to see if there is any information related to this British version.

WOMAN IN HIDING on the other hand was pretty silly and more straight thriller/melodrama than real Film Noir with it’s sweet, innocent heroine and happy ending. Still it was worth it for Peggy Dow as the luscious and trampy gun wielding other woman.

Oh and tonight I will be attending the LATFOB kickoff party at the Mystery Bookstore. I really should be working…

I really need to just hole up and write, but first a few more signings. I’ll be at the L.A. Times Festival of Books this coming Saturday the 26th. I’m signing at the Mystery Bookstore booth (#411) from noon to 1 pm and then at the Sister in Crime booth (#355) from 4-6pm.

After that, I’m not leaving the house until the new book is done, or B.E.A. Whichever comes first.

Endless flu notwithstanding, I’ll be signing tomorrow, Saturday April 19th at 4pm with Kathryn Lilley and Sue Ann Jaffarian at

Metropolis Books
400 South Main Street
Los Angeles, CA 90013
213-612-0174

Just when I think I’ve got the best of this Black Death/Captain Tripps/Ebola/whatever the fuck has been wrong with me since Left Coast Crime…

Over the past two days I’ve been dealing with yet another unwanted encore of high fever and coughing, this time with the added bonus of severe sinus congestion and an inexplicable stabbing pain in the right side of my mid-back. Sheesh! This damn flu is like a bad rock band that will not get off the stage.

But on the bright side, I get to curl up with the worlds toughest vegetarian. I just got a copy (thanks Donna!) of Allan Guthrie’s SAVAGE NIGHT. If that doesn’t heal me, I don’t know what will.

Can't wait for this!

OK, I’ve decided I’m just not going to be sick anymore. Period. I don’t care if I still feel like shit and still sound like an 80 year old with emphysema, I’m not staying in bed (or on the couch) anymore. I need to get back to work.

But hey, at least I have bunnies. Vosges chocolate bunnies. One is Red Fire (ancho and chipotle chillies, cinnamon and dark chocolate) and the other Amalfi (lemon zest, pink peppercorns and white chocolate.) They’re both ridiculously good.

Speaking of things that are ridiculously good. I picked up OUT by Natsuo Kirino back in Seattle and I have to say I was absolutely floored. For starters, it’s a noir novel with middle aged women as the protagonists. Right there she’s got my interest. The story follows a group of forgotten women, older, lower-middle class women who work the night shift at a boxed lunch factory to make ends meet. It deals with all kinds of complex gender issues in modern Japanese society and paints a grim and powerful portrait of these women’s threadbare lives. Then one of the women kills her husband. Needless to say, noirishness ensues. I’ve often been asked if I have a favorite hardboiled female character, and I’ve never really had a good answer beyond the standard femme fatales. Now I do: Masako Katori, the cold-blooded anti-heroine of OUT. She’s not some foxy seductress or a hot young super heroine. She’s just a smart, tough older woman who does not flinch when things get ugly and does what needs to be done without hysterics or remorse. I don’t want to give too much away, so just do yourself a favor and go buy it now. I’ll wait.

I haven’t been this excited about discovering a new (to me) writer since Megan Abbott. I’m currently about halfway through Kirino’s GROTESQUE and loving that too. I’m officially addicted. I understand a third novel is set for translation later this year. You can bet I’ll be first in line.

I seem to have moved into the Elephant Man phase of this nasty little bug. By that I mean that my chest is now so bubbly and liquid-filled that I can’t lie flat or I’ll die. On the bright side, my cough has become much more productive (eeeeeeew!) which I hope means that this shit is finally breaking up.

So, since sleep is pretty much out of the question and sitting up is the only way to be comfortable, I might as well be sitting at my desk, catching you guys up on my recent travels.

My Chicago trip was short but sweet. My signing at Centuries and Sleuths was pretty modest. The staff was great and even though only two legit readers showed up, my personal peeps came out in force so a great time was had by all. I walked away from that one with a copy of Chicago Blues, which seemed entirely appropriate.

That night I went out to the north side to hang with savagesinister and savagemutha. When I arrived at their apartment, I was immediately greeted with a golden shower. No really, the moment I walked in the door, yellow liquid started gushing out of the ceiling. A quick phone call to the landlady upstairs revealed that her kids had overflowed the toilet. Apparently no effort had been made to correct this little problem and as a result, peewater was leaking from the ceiling of Chad and Alex’s bathroom. Nice. Luckily it was all uphill from there.

We had a really fantastic dinner at Mia Francesca. The carpaccio was a standout, tart and lemony and thin enough to read through. I also had a really complex and unusual bouillabaisse that had an almost middle eastern flavor (cumin, maybe, and a little bit of cinnamon) and profiteroles filled with pistachio gelato. Good call, Alex!

From there it was off to the Cobra Lounge where we met up with Marcus Sakey and his charming wife. In spite of my ridiculously full belly, I still allowed myself to be talked into trying the Cobra Lounge’s famous tater-tots, affectionately known as crack-tots because of their addictive quality. They’re fried in bacon fat and as a result they are the tastiest, crispiest, most perfectly realized expression this humble American side. I won’t even go into detail about the debauched and animalistic behavior that resulted from the consumptions of those crack-tots. I will simply offer the following photographic evidence.





Enough said.

OK Faustketeers, I need your help to right a terrible injustice. Last night over cocktails at Zig Zag, we discovered that Marcus Sakey was the only writer at the table who had never received a naked photo from a fan. What kind of a world is this where a nice young man like Marcus has never received a single blurry cell phone photo of an adoring fan’s genitals? That’s just wrong.

So, I’m putting out a cry for help to all my pervy peeps out there in the ether. Show Marcus some love, and some skin. First, buy his book. Then let him know how much you love it. How much you really REALLY love it. I won’t post his email address because I don’t want him to get spammed to hell and back, but intrepid live nude girls (and boys) can easily find it on his website. Bonus points if you send a nude photo of yourself holding one of his books. Double bonus points if you can hold the book without using your hands. Triple if it’s the hardcover.