THE BEST AMERICAN MYSTERY STORIES 2009 is a pretty solid anthology of short stories, only some of which are true “mystery stories.” The problem with this volume, for readers who actually expect a book with the term “mystery stories” in the title to be comprised entirely of such, is that fewer than half of its 20 tales originally saw print in publications devoted to the crime genre. Few of us in the mood for a mystery are going to pick up THE NEW YORKER or THE VIRGINIA QUARTERLY REVIEW.
And when you figure in that guest editor Jeffery Deaver is one of the trickiest crime writers in the short form at work today — if you’ve never read his short stories, or those of Peter Lovesey, you should — this volume becomes even weaker. (Note: I know that Lovesey is a Brit and so could not be included in a book of American mystery stories. I’ve met the man, heard him speak. Very British.)
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When Cutting Block Press’ BUTCHER SHOP QUARTET hit the stands in 2005, it was subtitled “Four Bold Tales to Disturb the Adventurous Mind.” Wow. Re-arrange those eight words and a myriad of possible exaggerations leap out at you. (Let’s pause for a moment so I can admit that I’m not slamming this book, because I haven’t read it. I’m just tossing out a smart-ass allusion to a Dashiell Hammett story, the title of which I can’t remember.)
Now BUTCHER SHOP QUARTET II, edited by Frank J. Hutton, walks among us, sans subtitle, and it’s comprised once again of four long short stories and/or novellas designed to mess with your mind, whether it’s adventurous or not.
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Dammit, I know you get tired of reading reviews of new horror books that whine about how much they remind the reviewer of one or more old books (or old movies, or TV shows, or issues of FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND magazine, or whatever it is that the reviewer is familiar with from decades of wallowing in creepy stuff), but in this case, that’s tough. Honesty demands that I tell you Ronald Kelly’s HELL HOLLOW is patched together from pieces of Stephen King (there’s a coming-of-age element to the plot), early Michael McDowell (it’s all Southern-fried) and, of course, visual clichés from films.
“It was when Allison turned back toward the bathroom mirror that the decision of whether to go home to St. Louis or continue with her search was made for her. Staring back at her starkly, in puffy pink flesh and ugly brown scabbing, was the word that Jackson had so meticulously and gleefully carved into the flesh of her chest, just above the swell of her breasts.”
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The current film THE WOLFMAN presents us with a creepy old mansion, the secrets of which are guarded by an ancient servant from India, not unlike dozens of old dark houses in 40 years worth of SCOOBY-DOO adventures, a gazillion comic books and weird-menace pulp magazine stories, and Gothic piles dating back to THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO in 1764.
Which is not to say that Murrain Hall in Simon Clark’s GHOST MONSTER is derivative. Although, of course, it is. What do you think: “Rebecca’s path took her toward Murrain Hall. Part of it had already fallen into the sea due to the cliff being eroded. The dark structure that remained was a forbidding pile to be sure. Its little windows were more like those in a prison. The blocks of stone were somehow lumpy-looking. The black slate roof resembled the scales of a cobra. The whole place resonated with loneliness, despair, and lives blighted with suffering.”
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Just glancing at its title, one would be forgiven for thinking that Matthew P. Mayo’s collection of brief historical anecdotes stays with the more mainstream-classroom elements of Western lore, but don’t be fooled. There are pistoleros galore. Army/Indian conflict is not suggested in the title, but COWBOYS, MOUNTAIN MEN & GRIZZLY BEARS: FIFTY OF THE GRITTIEST MOMENTS IN THE HISTORY OF THE WILD WEST contains stories about the usual collection of military mishaps and massacres.
There was Capt. William Fetterman, who bragged that with a mere 80 cavalrymen, he could cut a swath through the entire Sioux Nation — and was then, along with 80 soldiers, lured into a trap by Crazy Horse and wiped out. And there was Col. John Chivington, an even bigger loudmouth, who led a raid on Black Kettle’s camp of peaceful Cheyenne in 1864. This action was once referred to as The Battle of Sand Creek, but is now more accurately called the Chivington Massacre. When asked after the fact why the men under his command killed children, Chivington answered appallingly, “Nits make lice.”
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