WEEKEND REGASM >> 10.15.06
Our end-o’-week roundup of what you missed while working for The Man!
It’s been one hell of an autumn here at BOOKGASM HQ. With office renovations, family commitments and the annual harvest festival/pagan sacrifices under our belts for now, finally we can get back to a solid schedule of weekly wrap-ups.
But, hey, don’t take my word for it:
MONDAY >> 10.9.06
The BOOKGASM Halloween cavalcade of mystery and horror is well under way, and Rod Lott added his thoughts on 1991’s NIGHTMARES ON ELM STREET: FREDDY KRUEGER’S SEVEN SWEETEST DREAMS, edited by the ever-prolific Martin H. Greenberg. Seriously, does this guy edit in his sleep? He’s the Glenn Danzig of genre anthologizing, and he lives just a stone’s throw away from where I grew up (Green Bay, Wis., but his actual location is shrouded in secrecy). With Greenberg’s awesome editorial might, the book can’t be too bad, and Lott found it not bad at all.
Buried in his review of Michael Connelly’s ECHO PARK, the ever-shameless Ken Davis manages a slick bit of self-congratulation. As we all have read on BOOKGASM’s “Staff” page (click the tab at the top of this page if you haven’t), Davis was “desperately trying to get promoted to the rank of detective.” Well, we’ve all been waiting for Ken to get what he deserved, but instead, he slips this line into the review: “As a detective myself, I can attest to the fact that Connelly has the police jargon down and uses it effectively and appropriately.” In other words, “Look at me! I’m a detective!” I’ve got one question, though: If private detectives are called “private dicks,” what does that make you? BTW, Ken liked the book, if you were wondering.
TUESDAY >> 10.10.06
Anti-heroes were the subject of last week’s BULLETS, BROADS, BLACKMAIL & BOMBS, specifically, Richard Stark’s Parker and Max Allan Collins’ Quarry. A Mike Shayne mystery is thrown in for good measure, but mostly because BODIES ARE WHERE YOU FIND THEM is the basis for the film KISS KISS BANG BANG. As bitter and removed as they are, I can’t help but think that Parker and Quarry need one thing above all others: a big hug.
When you’re reviewing a book titled THE BEST AMERICAN COMICS 2006, you’d better:
a) know something about American comics, and
b) be able to tell if these are “the best.”
Despite not having Martin H. Greenberg’s strong but firm and loving editorial vision, this book succeeds, according to Rod Lott. The whole “this is real life” comics movement gets a lot of attention here, but seriously, if I wanted to read about someone’s vaguely pathetic life, I could just read my blog.
WEDNESDAY >> 10.11.06
NEWSGASM, in its search for an ever-elusive identity, has resorted to lowest-common-denominator pandering. Yes, I know that Scarlett Johansson was named “Sexiest Woman Alive” by ESQUIRE magazine. No, this has nothing to do with books. Yes, “Scarlett Johansson nude” would be a great thing to search for, much better than “Charo nude” or “Burt Bacharach nude.” See? NEWSGASM has no class. Other news was also mentioned, including the latest salvo in Rod Lott’s ongoing feud with Robin Williams. Somebody paid full price to see RV, methinks.
As it turns out, I’ve become a mealymouthed tout for Pyr Books. It started innocently with the excellent RIVER OF GODS and quickly devolved into a portrait of an unrepentant junkie scrabbling for the next fix, the most recent of which is CROSSOVER by Joel Shepherd. Although they don’t return any of my calls and recently took out something called a “restraining order” against yours truly, the folks at Pyr throw me a bone every once and awhile, and what tasty, tasty, delicious bones they are. CROSSOVER is another gem from a way-groovy publisher. (There. I said it. Please remember me when BRASYL comes out. Please?)
Wednesday the 11th also saw a review of the best-titled book ever: Jason Fagone’s HORSEMEN OF THE ESOPHAGUS. From the title, I gather that the book’s about competitive eating, but let’s just think about that title and giggle silently for a minute. Esophagus. See? It should be “Apocalypse.” Awesome.
THURSDAY >> 10.12.06
When fresh-faced youngster Allan Mott was brought into the BOOKGASM fold to write a weekly column about books about movies(FRAMES O’ REFERENCE), the first thing he asked after “Where’s the blow?” was “What should I write about?” Lacking the lightly arousing yet subtly sinister editorial touch of Martin H. Greenberg, Rod Lott got right to the jubblies: “I want some funbag talk, Mott,” said Lott. “And not just any old chest balloons; I want Melanie Griffith’s breasts to feature heavily in your first column, or you’re fired!” And, in true Gonzo book-reviewer style, Mott delivered, with a solid look at THE DEVIL’S CANDY by Julie Salamon. I’m sure his next column will be great, too, as long as he balances that work with his more-important go-get-me-some-coffee duties.
There are precious few books about the life of Jules Verne, but if you’re going to pick one, Rod recommends Gonzague Saint Bris’ THE WORLD OF JULES VERNE. Text and illustrations take us through Verne’s life step by step, but sadly, there’s nary a giant squid. That said, there’s still plenty to wrap the tentacles of your mind around, and the lives of creative types are always a little bit more interesting than, say, your average crossword-themed murder mystery.
FRIDAY >> 10.13.06
Wrapping up the week is a very special installment of LOUIS’ SERIOUS ISSUES in which Louis confronts a problem very near and dear to me: high comic prices. I understand that a lot of the really good writers and artists demand high salaries, but can’t we outsource like 95 percent of the rest of the work to India or Kansas or somewhere? It doesn’t take a genius to think up “Okay, Superman dies, but then … wait for it … he comes back!” In other areas, Louis likes SHE-HULK, yet is ambivalent about ZOMBIE and STAN LEE MEETS THE AMAZING SPIDER MAN. Stan Lee. That dude was awesome in THE CHINATOWN DEATH CLOUD PERIL, and I hear he will play his teenage self in the movie adaptation, thanks to plastic surgery and industrial-strength CGI.
On one hand, it would be tough to live the life of Bruce Grossman: Every other book he gets to read has “noir” in the title or a brooding anti-hero featured heavily inside. On the other hand, he’s a pro with a blackjack (or sap), and with one hit he can put down even the most thick-necked opponent. His most recent noir foray is BALTIMORE NOIR, edited by Laura Lippman (possibly one of master-of-editorial-subterfuge Martin H. Greenberg’s many aliases). Despite being tied to one of the most nondescript cities in the USA, Grossman liked it, and I’m no going to question that.
Is that it already? Unfortunately, yes. As I await contact from Martin H. Greenberg’s lawyers, I wish you a great week. Also, feel free to enter our contest for copies of THE HISTORIAN. Only 15 days left! It’s a neat book, and a lot of people are turning in a wrong answer on the same question, so as of now, your chances are pretty sweet. –Ryun Patterson
[...] Undaunted by my previous tauntings, Allan Mott returned for a second FRAMES O’ REFERENCE column, this time considering Joe Queenan, who decided to turn a successful career as a snarky film critic into a career as an independent filmmaker and failed ridiculously. You’d think this would be an object lesson for some people, but it hasn’t stopped Mott from mortgaging his grandmother’s house to finance FRAMES O’ REFERENCE: THE MOVIE, starring Eric Roberts as Mott and Shannon Tweed as Rod Lott. I will be played by John Cusack, as always, and Ken Davis plays himself. (Because, hey, the budget only goes so far.) [...]