Les Edgerton's Blog, page 28

NEW FIVE-STAR REVIEW OF THE BITCH

  Hi folks,
Just got another 5-star review of THE BITCH on Amazon! Making this old geezer a happy camper!

5.0 out of 5 stars Between an Expensive Rock and a Hard Place, February 18, 2014 By Wag The Fox (Canada) - See all my reviews This review is from: The Bitch (Kindle Edition) Previously published a couple years ago, New Pulp Press has breathed new life into Les Edgerton's The Bitch with a new release this winter. I had heard about Edgerton last year through the Booked.Podcast, raving his novel, The Rapist, and didn't hesitate when I got the chance to read this one. While the title is a bit deceptive to those unaccustomed to prison slang, the hard-edged storytelling is there in full glory and made it hard to put this book down.

Jake Bishop used to be a heck of a burglar when he was younger, but he still managed to get sent to prison twice. With the threat of winding up there a third time hanging over his head, he resolved to go straight. He got married, got a good job as a hairdresser, even setting himself up to start his own business pretty soon with the money he has saved, which is great because he has a baby on the way, too. And then his old cellmate shows up in town and all his best laid plains crumble like rotten snow.

The Bitch is impeccably paced and the tension rises from mildly uncomfortable at Jake's first contact with Walker to downright excruciating when the secrets Jake keeps from Paris pile up like a house of cards. Some of that cringe-inducing tension comes from the anticipation of what Jake's bad choices, one after another, are likely to lead to, but there's also the unanticipated repercussions that throw Jake's already careening life into a brand-new tailspin.

Jake is a likable guy, relatable even, but there are moments where it's difficult to root for the guy. Even with detestable characters like Walker Joy and the scumbag jeweler blackmailing Jake into one more heist, the tug-of-war going on with Jake's sense of right and wrong gets more than a little compromised, especially when it becomes harder and harder to hide the truth from his wife. As much as there is intrigue into whether he can pull off the job as smoothly as he's planned it, there's even more intrigue over just how low down he's willing to go to do what he convinces himself is best for his wife and kid.

It's early in the year still, but The Bitch is a novel I will not be at all surprised to see show up on my fave five list of 2014 novels at the end of the year. If you enjoy Joe R. Lansdale's stories, or those of Scott Phillips or Anthony Neil Smith or others who deal with noir fiction, you'll be doing yourself a favor by reading something by Les Edgerton.  To be compared to my heroes like Lansdale, Smith, and Phillips just warms the cockles of my heart. At least, I think it does... if I was just sure what cockles were...
Blue skies,Les

Me, being a happy camper...

JOE CLIFFORD, BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN, DENNIS LEHANE AND OTHERS

Hi folks,

Short one today! Couple of things. First, Joe Clifford has just announced the publication of an anthology he's put together, titled TROUBLE IN THE HEARTLAND that I'm proud to be part of. There are about 30 of us noir and hardboiled crime writers who were invited to participate, including heavyweights like Dennis Lehane. Joe cleared it with Bruce Springsteen and got his blessing and the proceeds go to charity. Click on the cover to go to his blog for details.



Second thing is this month's lineup of Kristen Lamb's WANA classes is available. Lots and lots of valuable classes for writers at very affordable rates. A good friend, Shirley Jump, is teaching one and there are classes not only on writing but on social media and marketing for writers and all kinds of interesting stuff to help writers and their careers. Check it out here.

And, tell 'em I sentcha!

Blue skies,
Les

New review of THE BITCH by Mark Matthews

The Bitch ~ Les EdgertonFebruary 16, 2014 by MarathonMarkTitle: The Bitch   Author: Les EdgertonGenre: Crime NoirFormat: KindleSource: NetgalleyReviewed by: Mark MatthewsRating: 5 out of 5
Description:  Ex-con Jake Bishop is several years past his second stint in prison and has completely reformed. He’s married, expecting a child, and preparing to open his own hair salon. But then an old cellmate re-enters his life begging for a favor: to help him with a burglary. Forced by his code of ethics to perform the crime, Jake’s once idyllic life quickly plunges into an abyss. Jake soon realizes that there is only one way out of this purgatory . . . and it may rupture his soul beyond repair.

Review:  First off, I should note that the title “The Bitch” is in reference to the main character’s fear of being labeled a “Ha-Bitch-ual” criminal.  More on that later.
Ex-con trying to fly straight and be a family man gets called back into the lifestyle. Sure, you may  have seen this done before: But this author does it so well that it never gets trite. Feels like true crime, with a language that is never forced.
The tension escalated beautifully. Unpredictable, yet always getting higher, like the tick, tick, ticking noise you hear the roller coaster make as you climb that first hill. You weren’t sure what twist it was going to take, only that the author showed so much skill you would trust it would be somewhere interesting. You get to know the main character so well, that it’s hard not to take him out of the book and back home with you.
As far as the title referring to the legal implications of being labeled a “Ha-Bitch-ual” criminal, I don’t think the author would mind you thinking otherwise. In some ways, the main character lets his past make him his bitch, so to speak, by trying to live by the code of his old world and be happy in the new. Likewise, his wife, tries a ‘cross-over’ with similar results. There is moral ambiguity here and a value system that the main character has that you don’t have to admire, but you will certainly feel it along the way. As the main character, Jake, goes rifling through what to do next, you want to scream out to him, “Dude, did you realize you just ((spoiler alert)) how are you going to shoot a move through this one?”
I have to believe that crime fiction speaks to the voyeur in all of us. The part who want to know how criminals live and what they think. And the best crime fiction makes us realize they are one of us, or we are one of them. We find ourselves identifying with the character at some parts, wishing they had more of a moral compass at other parts. We may get disgusted at their choices, other times we may just wish they’d be more slick and get away with it. All of these things and more crossed my mind as I committed crimes alongside Jake and Walker.
Read this for the story, for the plot, for the characters, and for the concise as a concrete slab prose. If you are lucky like me, you can read it at your parents cottage, isolated, surrounded by snow, which was exactly the setting the characters found themselves in as they tried to cover the tracks of their misdeeds. I was able to go home and live happily ever after with my family. The characters of this book may have not been so lucky.


Thanks, Mark--tickled pink that you enjoyed the read!

Blue skies,
Les

CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS--FROM DAVID MAMET

Hi folks,
As some of you know, I’ve gotten into the habit of providing a literary quote of the day in Facebook. I have personal experience from my own writing life that “proves” the quote I provided today, at least for me. First, let me provide that quote:
Quote of the day: (On describing characters.)
“Bruno Bettelheim, in The Uses of Enchantment, writes that the fairy tale (and, similarly, the Drama) has the capacity to calm, to incite, to assuage, finally, to affect, because we listen to it nonjudgmentally—we identify subconsciously (non critically) with the protagonist.
“We are allowed to do this, he tells us, because the protagonist and, indeed, the situations are uncharacterized aside from their most essential elements.
When we are told, for example, that a Handsome Prince went into a wood, we realize that we are that Handsome Prince. As soon as the prince is characterized, ‘A Handsome Blond Prince with a twinkle in his eye, and just the hint of a mustache on his upper lip…’ and if we lack that color hair, twinkle, and so on, we say, ‘What an interesting prince. Of course, he is unlike anyone I know…’ and we begin to listen to the story as a criticrather than as a participant.”
David Mamet from his book Writing in Restaurants


Years ago, in my days of cutting hair, I talked to most of my clients about my work. That was a big mistake—I later discovered that when I talked about the work, especially the current work—that I’d expended the energy of actually writing it that night when I went home and faced my computer.
But, in those days I still hadn’t learned that lesson. What was profitable from those conversations was that I learned something from my readers. Most had read my work, particularly Monday’s Meal, my first collection of short stories. We’d talk about them and I’d answer the usual questions—how did you come up with that idea? did that happen in real life? how come there are a lot of characters who have their hands or fingers cut off?
And then, one day, I noticed in our conversations, very often the person would describe one of the characters in the stories. That’s odd, I remember thinking. I couldn’t ever remember providing character descriptions. It wasn’t because of something someone had told me not to do—I’d experienced little or no writing instruction of advice in those days and wrote purely from an instinctual stance. I went back to see if I had, inadvertently, provided descriptions. I hadn’t.
So then, I began asking the person I was chatting with if he or she could describe the character in the story we were talking about. Sure, they said, almost to a person, and proceeded to deliver a very detailed, sometimes exhaustivedescription of the person. And, I began to notice that in these very complex descriptions always there would be a characteristic that belonged to the person telling me the description.
“And where,” I said, “did you get this description from?” “Why, it was in the story,” they’d say. “No, it wasn’t,” I said. I’d open a copy, turn to the story, and ask them to point out where their description came from. They’d skim through it, a puzzled look on their faces, and finally, say, “Well, I was sure I read it.” And then, we’d laugh and go on to other topics.
I think the best way to learn to write well is to read lots and lots and lots. Something I’ve done all of my life. One of the things I’d always thought boring in a novel was when the author described their characters. Especially when they overloaded the details of those descriptions. I knew that my brain switched off at those passages and I’d almost always skip those parts and go ahead. And, usually those kinds of stories were fairly boring to me. At the time, I couldn’t articulate why that was so, I just knew it was.
And, like Harry Crews (who said it first and these days it’s inaccurately attributed to Elmore Leonard, who included it in his book on writing and had taken it from Crews) I was always acutely aware of those parts I tended to skip when reading and did my utmost to not provide those parts in my own writing.
And, then, a few years ago, I happened upon David Mamet’s book, Writing in Restaurants, and when I read the quoted passage above, had one of those Eureka! Moments.
I didn’t change anything. I didn’t pay closer attention to avoiding character descriptions—that was already finely-honed in me to not do so, but it is always great when you encounter a bona fide writing “authority” that confirms what you’ve been doing is spot on the money. Kind of validates what you’re doing.
How about you? How do you feel about character descriptions? Are you like me or are you the opposite? Are you one who really enjoys the author laying out exactly what the protagonist looks like? If you are, can you say honestly, if upon encountering such a description you begin reading as a critic or remain identifying subconsciously with the protagonist? Or, does it even matter to your own personal experience?
I’d really like to know!
Blue skies,Les

And, if you haven't read Mamet's book, I highly, highly recommend it to all writers--it's an amazing book.

Review of Dana King's GRIND JOINT

Hi folks,
I read tons and tons of books. Last count, I’m averaging 3 ½ novels a week. That’s a lot. The truly great ones I try to provide reviews for. At last count, I’m about 15 books behind. Here’s one I read several weeks ago and just re-read it. For the third time. That kind of tells you how I liked it, I think. But, if that wasn’t a big enough clue, here are some other thoughts I had about it:
GRIND JOINT by Dana King


One of the best novels I’ve read this year. Period. I’d read three of King’s novels previous to this one and waited and waited for it to become available on Kindle and finally I went ahead and bought the paperback copy, simply because I couldn’t wait any longer. (Note: get the other three—they’re as good as this one is.)
I’m glad I did. Not so much because I finally got to read it—that’s a for-sure plus—but because I’ve now got a physical copy. That’s important because there are dozens and dozens of techniques I want to steal for my own writing and to pass on to my writing students and this just makes it easier to bookmark and make the theft and get out before I’m caught.
In some of the reviews I’d read of GRIND JOINT, it was often mentioned that King was bringing back to life the subgenre of mafia crime books. I guess I’m out of touch—I never realized it had died. Well, if it had, this definitely gave the genre new life. And, if it hasn’t, this is pumping steroids into it. Make room at the table, Mario Puzo…
Reviews very often aren’t about the book itself so much as they are about the reviewer. Some see that as a negative. Not this reviewer. Sure, the plot is complex and sound and tight. Sure, the characters are entirely interesting and plausible. Sure, the world it contains is realistic and well-drawn. All "reviewery" things. But, I read differently than someone who’s not a writer and is just looking for a great way to kill some time. GRIND JOINT does that for sure, but what impressed me more than anything is that I consciously looked for weak places—places I could set it down easily and go and do something else. Well, very few books are capable to achieving that kind of deep hypnosis upon me… but this one did. It’s simply Grade A, Top Quality, Sterling Silver. 24-Carat Can’t-Put-It-Down. Trust me on this. Better: Don’t trust me. Grab a copy and see if I’m not right. I couldn’t find a single page anywhere in it that didn’t grab and hold my interest. Not a single page. This guy's a writer's writer.
If you like an insider’s look at the criminal world and are intrigued at stories that reveal how people “in the life” think and what drives their actions, this is the book for you. If you enjoy stories that draw back the curtain on the seamy side of town as well as on the good side of the tracks (which aren't much different), this is the book for you. If you get your adrenaline going when you encounter a protagonist you want to hang with and have beers with, this is the book for you.
If you prefer novels about vampires and fifty ways to make your eyeballs bleed and your trouser worm get exercise, and characters that are 6’8”, Hollywood-blond, can bench-press Buicks, go 24 hours without sleep, food or water, and can defeat 9,000 ninjas in warehouses (why are these guys always in warehouses?), and only need a toothbrush and a micro chip inside them that draws bad guys to their vicinity like six-year-olds to chicken nuggets to make their lives complete... then this probably isn’t the book for you.
One reviewer said she finished reading this book “on a gurney in an emergency room with crying kids, a car accident victim and a loud drunk” keeping her company, and she “barely noticed them,” then, yeah, this is your kind of book.
It’s exactly like that.
Blue skies,Les

GAMBLING AND THE SUPER BOWL...

Hi folks,
Well, it’s here—SUPER BOWL SUNDAY!
I’m pulling for Peyton Manning.
Today brings up the memories of the only time I got to go to a Super Bowl. I went to Super Bowl VIII, the Minnesota Vikings vs the Miami Dolphins.
For a hundred bucks.
That’s the truth. That included airfare from South Bend, Indiana to Houston, Texas and back. It included the game itself, for a seat on the 45-yard line. It included drinks and meals on the plane there and back. It included a visit to an all-you-can-eat-and-drink seafood restaurant after the game.
For $100.
Here’s the story. It’s mostly about gambling so those who aren’t interested in that activity, you might want to go on to something else. For those who like gambling tales, stick around.
At the time, I was a year or two out of the joint and was cutting hair at Michael and Friends Hair Salon in South Bend. Directly across the street from the famed Linebacker Inn and a block from the Notre Dame campus. Not only was I cutting hair in the best hair salon in the state, I was heavily involved in gambling. At the time, I was averaging $2,000 weekly in wagers. That doesn’t mean I was winning or losing that amount—that was just the average being bet each week. And, I won, fairly often. Averaged a profit of around $5-600 a week. And, I was the piker in the shop. Michael and a couple of his friends averaged a lot more. It’s a myth that all gamblers end up losing. Just not true. Gamblers usually win. Weekend betters usually end up losing. Weekend betters are those amateurs who bet on the teams they follow, that they’re fans of. I was taught to gamble by some of the best gamblers who ever lived. Michael Murray, the owner of Michael’s and several of his friends, including one guy who owned a small chain of supermarkets and sold them and ended up making his entire living the rest of his life by gambling. A much better living that his supermarkets provided previously and that was a handsome living. But, he did a lot better when he devoted all of his time to it.
(There is a side story here. Michael and another friend found this guy (I think I remember his name as Bob David but could be wrong) in his apartment one Sunday after he hadn’t showed up at his regular haunts for a few days. He’d been executed, gangland-style, with the typical two .22s behind his ear. Whoever did it was never found, but it was pretty clear it was over a debt he was slow-walking to the local Mafia. And, yes, the Mafia was alive and well in South Bend those days. Might still be as far as I know, but I’m not in that life any more so don’t know.)
Michael had a couple-three telephones in the back room, all devoted to gambling. They were connected to bookies in different parts of the country. The “secret” to making money consistently in those days was accomplished by “middling.” Alas, amateur betters—those aforementioned “weekend betters” ended up ruining middles for us pros. I haven’t gambled much since.
For those who may be unfamiliar with the term “middles,” let me explain. At the time, Vegas came out with the spread on college and pro football on Mondays. There’s some background info non-gamblers need to know at this point. The point spread has almost nothing to do with the game itself. There used to be a single guy in Vegas who set the spreads for the entire country. Then (as now, I believe), the Mafia controlled gambling nationwide. It’s just gone more underground, but it’s still the way it was. Just looks more corporate these days…
Anyway, this guy wasn’t interested in providing a number that reflected who he thought was going to win or lose. That had little or nothing to do with the spread he posted. Contrary to what some seem to think, bookies don’t make their money by inducing betters to lose. Gambling is a business. What the mob or local bookies want is to induce 50% of betters to bet each way. If there are 100 gamblers, they want the money to go half on each team. Professional gambling is conducted with hard business principles. Bookies make money on the 10% the losers pay on their bets—the vigorish or “vig” or "juice." And, it works. If you can run a business with an almost-guaranteed 10% net profit, you’ve got a winner. Week in, week out, bookies earn 10% on their handle. It’s as sure a thing as there is.
What the guy who set the line did was set a line that he felt (through experience) would attract equal numbers of betters to each side of the contest.
Well, it would be easy if the initial line did just that, but it doesn’t. Betters usually end up overloading one side or the other. Usually, by simply being from different parts of the country. And, that’s expected. For example, let’s say Alabama is playing Notre Dame. A lot more money is going to be going to be placed on Alabama in Huntsville than it is in South Bend which will go ND’s way. For a local bookie, the magic number was $10,000. Whenever the handle went to 10K for one team over the other, the local bookie “adjusted” the spread half a point to attract betters to the other side to even it up. (Keep in mind throughout this that the vast amount of money bet is by those “weekend” or “amateur” betters. Who almost always bet with their hearts and not their heads.) If it stays lopsided, the local bookie will usually “lay off” his excess with another bookie who has the same problem with his bets. For instance, the South Bend bookie will lay off with his counterpart in Alabama. This traffic is conducted through Vegas who directs bookies to each other. If the handle becomes overloaded nationally, the national spread is adjusted, plus the layoff is made directly with Vegas who is basically the “mother ship.”
The professional gambler knows and understands all of this. The amateur doesn’t.
And this is what the phones in the back room were for. Michael had connections with bookies in the South, in the East, and in the West. Even though the initial line was set by Vegas, fairly quickly, local bookies had already adjusted their lines. And, would continue to do so up until game time. This means that in the example of ND vs ‘Bama, the line in South Bend might have the Irish favored by three points close to game time, while in Alabama, the line might be ten favoring the Crimson Tide. If a better had access to both bookies, he could create a “middle.”
He could bet say $1,000 on Notre Dame “with” the points, i.e. a grand on the Irish on a bet where they were favored by three points (with an Alabama bookie). He could then turn around and within a minute or two, create a like bet, but this time taking Bama… and ten points.
What this means is that the better can win one and lose the other in the worst-case scenario. Which means he’s reduced his exposure to a five percent loss and not a ten percent. In gambling, that’s huge. But… and this is a big but… he can win both ways if both bets fall within the spread each way. I.E. a “middle.” And, they pay off a lot. The bigger the difference in spreads becomes the better chance for a middle to hit.
This was all right as long as only the pros were aware of how it worked and the weekend betters didn’t. However, more and more pros would let their buddies in on it and like all good things, it came to an end. Vegas didn’t have a problem with the pros making a little like this. Pros were usually careful not to abuse the situation, but amateurs are an entirely different matter. They effectively killed the golden goose. This is the reason they don't issue the spreads now until the weekend.
And, that’s when I quit gambling.
Michael taught me another valuable trick. Vegas knows the heavy hitters well—the ND’s, the Alabama’s, the Ohio State’s, the USC’s, the LSU’s. They can set the spread in their sleep with these programs,  just over years of experience and knowing how the money will go. But, there are bunches of other teams they know little about but put out a spread anyway. That’s where I really made my money. I picked 4-5 colleges that were little known. Schools like Slippery Rock University. I subscribed to their college papers, to the town papers, to every single source of information I could get my hands on. And, those were the teams I bet on or against. The lines Vegas set on these kinds of teams had nothing to do with reality. It was just a number they felt would attract equal numbers of betters each way. What I would do was consult my research on the team and the team they were playing and write down what I felt was a realistic number they would win or lose by. I’d do that on each Sunday. Then, on Monday when the spread came out, I’d look for anomalies between the Vegas spread and what I thought would happen, based on my research and knowledge of the team and their opponent. If, for instance, I thought Slippery Rock would beat Toledo by 12 points and the Vegas line had them favored by three, I’d jump all over that. Had a winning percentage of almost 75%. It just comes from preparation and understanding how spreads are created.
And, that’s your gambling lesson for today. There are some other tricks and strategms of the trade, but I’m holding them close to the vest in case I decide to start gambling again… Plus, I'm considering writing a gambling novel and don't want all the inside info to become common knowledge.Which (finally, eh?!) leads us to the Super Bowl.
The entire season that year, I had made a ton of money off Fran Tarkenton and the Purple People Eaters and the Minnesota Vikings. Tarkenton could do no wrong that year. Didn’t pay much attention to the Dolphins who, the year before had gone undefeated, but the general feeling was that they’d taken advantage of a soft schedule.
A week before the game, Michael told me that our neighbor across the street, Stan Pietzak, owner of the Linebacker Inn and a serious gambler and our friend, was taking a group to the Super Bowl and that I could get in on it. Stan had purchased a plane some time before this and formed a “travel club” and it was the club he’d gotten tickets for it for. I’d previously joined as they often had what they called “Mystery Flights” where you and your wife or date would jump in the plane with 40 others and the plane would take off, parts unknown. Well, the pilot knew where he was going but the passengers didn’t. One time, I remember we ended up in Buffalo and were taken to a really classy restaurant. Another time, we ended up in Windor, Ontario (this was in the days when you didn’t need a frickin’ passport to go into frickin’ Canada, for crissakes!).
Since I was already a member, I just called Stan and told him I wanted to go. The fee? A hundred bucks. For everything. Flight, meals, seats at the Super Bowl, et al. Remember, this was in the days before Pete Rozelle made it into the Second Coming.
Most of the members of Stan’s travel club were bookies or heavy gamblers. His friends.
We got to the South Bend airport that ayem and climbed aboard. Stan hired his waitresses from the bar to be our “stewardesses.” During the flight, they delivered box lunches to us, sat on our laps, partied down with the rest of us. It definitely wasn’t Delta Airlines!
During the flight, I sat next to a guy named Buddy who was one of our chief bookies. His uncle was the Godfather of South Bend. We got into a heated argument about who was better—Dolphins or Vikings—and I ended up betting the Vikes against his Dolphins, straight up, no points—for $2500.
We got to Houston and the game had been changed at the last minute from the Astrodome to the Rice University football field. Pipes had burst or something at the Astrodome.
Well, we get to the game—seats on the 45-yard line—and I sat just in front of Jimmy Wynn, the home-run slugger for the Houston Astros they called “The Toy Cannon” on account of he had such prodigious power and was a little guy. He was short, but heavily muscled. And, a really nice guy. We chatted all throughout the game. Next to me was another South Bend bookie and before the game started we started arguing just as Buddy and I had and I ended up betting another  $2500 with him… me taking the Vikes, natch…
Well, that turned out to be the longest game I’ve ever sat through. And, while I can’t prove it, looked like the “most-fixed” game in football history. All year long, Tarkenton had torn apart defenses with his rocket arm and pin-point passes. Not in this game. It seemed like every single play there were multiple receivers wide open, nobody around them for ten yards, yet Tarkenton elected to always throw it to the guy downfield who was being triple-teamed. We were screaming at him the whole game. I mean, it was blatantly clear that he was ignoring wide-open receivers, play after play. I don’t have a clue what it looked like on TV, but in person if the fix wasn’t on, it was a primer in how to run one.
Game over… and I’m out five big ones. I’d had a bunch of good weeks up until then, but it still hurt big-time. Pretty much wiped out everything I’d won the month before…
After the game, we all piled into a bus and they took us to the San Jacinto Inn, a huge seafood place directly across from the San Jacinto Monument. (Side note: When I got back home, a week later I was talking to my mother and told her where we’d eaten and she revealed to me that that restaurant had been founded by my great-great-grandmother. Wish I’d known that while we were there!). It was a huge room with these big picnic tables that were groaning with shrimp and crabs and all kinds of seafood. There were these big oil drums full of ice and beer everywhere and it was all you could eat and drink. Again, included in the $100 ticket.
Afterwards, they took us back to the airport where we boarded Stan’s plane and flew back to South Bend. On that leg of the flight, once again there was all you could eat and drink and cavorting with Stan’s waitresses.
Except for the gambling loss, a really cool trip. I miss Stan. He was one colorful character. One time, the IRS padlocked the bar's door for tax debts... and Stan just cut a hole in the side of the building and people could enter that way.
Sometime I’ll tell you about attending the 1987 Final Four game where my wife Mary and I watched Keith Smart sink the winning shot for my alma mater, I.U. against Syracuse in the last second at the Super Dome. We went to that game for even cheaper than the Super Bowl. Paid ten bucks apiece for our tickets…
Hope you enjoy the Super Bowl! I’ve got my money on Peyton Manning and hope that doesn’t screw it up for him…
Blue skies,Les

Review by Charlie Stella for THE BITCH

Hi folks,

Keep getting wonderful reviews for THE BITCH. Here's one that just came out from Charlie Stella, one of my favorite writers, on his blog, Temporary Knucksline:



TemporaryKnucksline Our motto ...Leave the (political) party. Take the cannoli.

"It always seems impossible until it's done." Nelson Mandela Right now Shakedown (Kirkus & Booklist *starred* reviews) available on Kindle for $.99 ...Thursday, January 30, 2014

The Bitch, by Les Edgerton … there’s a basic noir formula that goes something like this: introduce a dark character (sometimes with a touch of light in his soul), then put him in a vice and keep squeezing; put him in the wrong place at the wrong time doing the wrong thing and then make the wrong people show up in the wrong place at the wrong time … and so on. How the formula is delivered is what makes it work or not.
Anthony Neil Smith mentioned chops in his forward to Les Edgerton’s The Bitch … I’ve also seen words like verisimilitude and gravitas attributed to Edgerton’s works … and it’s all true … not to mention the crafty hooks he leaves at the ends of chapters that demand you turn the page just that much faster (rather than put the book down and wait until you have some free time later in the day). Edgerton gets you to make time for this novel about a twice fallen con struggling to maintain a peaceful civilian life through hard work and commitment to family. And the vice he gets squeezed by is his past—2 bits in the joint where he made enemies and friends alike, so when a former cellmate he owes his life to shows up, you know it can’t be good. So does Jake know it can’t be good … Walker (Jake’s former cellmate) needs Jake’s help … reciprocity can be an MF’er in the criminal world … owing anybody never works out well … so when Jake is forced into performing one last criminal act (or is it the last one?) … things unroll so fast and furious, each turn of the page comes with great anticipation and fear. And talk about people showing up at the wrong place at the wrong time …
No spoilers here. Buy the book and find out the rest. The author himself has paid the price of incarceration and come out shining. The Bitch is a true page turner well worth the price of admission.

 Thanks, Mr. Stella! 
He also has some other cool stuff on his blog--check it out.
Blue skies,Les

BAD... NO, TERRIBLE NEWS...

Hi folks,
I’m afraid I have some bad news. Let me take that back. I have some terriblenews. Bad news is when your wife says she’s leaving you for the water softener man. This is far worse than that. This is on the level of news that she’s leaving you for the guy who lives down by the river in his refrigerator carton…
Okay. Ready? Sitting down? Here goes…
It’s official. Once again, I didn’t win the Pulitzer Prize for Literature. How many times must I taste the bitter truth that time is running out? Once a year, I guess, until I run out…
And, what beat me out this year? The Orphan Master's Son by Adam Johnson. You’re kidding, right? 
Here’s the description:
An exquisitely crafted novel that carries the reader on an adventuresome journey into the depths of totalitarian North Korea and into the most intimate spaces of the human heart.
It’s a book set in North Korea? Who the hell nominated this? Dennis Rodman? Who even reads books set in North Korea? Even North Koreans don’t read books set in North Korea. Well, that’s not exactly their fault—they aren’t allowed to by that sweet little cherub, Dear Leader. Speaking of cherubs, I woke up this morning with a sweet little cherub in my skivvies… Or was that a chub? Whatever. They both look the same.
I suspect it won because of the author’s name. He’s named after two American presidents. Jingoism at its worst.
I should have known I wouldn’t win once again after last year when they couldn’t find a single book to give the award to. There were only five million books published last year (even taking out the four million self-published autobiographies that really suck swamp water, that still leaves a million books, give or take a few hundred thousand.).
How can you not give one single book the award? Even the year the Miss America contestants were all dogs, they still gave the award to someone. Bert Parks. That was the year there weren’t any brunettes from Mississippi and Georgia. But, hey—they still awarded it to somebody.
I’ve had it. I’m taking serious action. I’ve just composed a strongly-worded letter to all the judges of next year’s Pulitzer committee, notifying them that I’m officially withdrawing any and all of my books from future consideration. I’m sending it via Overnight Delivery, Certified Mail. That means it won’t arrive in their mail boxes until August, 2015 on a rainy day when the mailman can't play golf and has to tend his route, but I have no control over that. They’ll at least be aware of my sentiments.
And, as it happens, I’m outlining a new novel that fits all of their crappy requirements. It’s set in (some obscure country which I haven’t decided yet, but one with lots of consonants and only one vowel) and it’s about the Mayor of Cracktown--or as it's dubbed in the tome, "Crktwn"). It’s about this guy who lives in a village with the Entering and Leaving signs on the same pole, and in this little tarpaper shack with a fridge on the porch and with a bunch of farm animals of various religious persuasions living inside with him. He has no money (always a requirement of these kinds of books and which immediately makes him a genius). He has a major fight with the garda (This is a hint as to what country it's set in...) who have discovered he’s far exceeded the legal quota of farm animals allowed in a domicile, one of which he claims shouldn’t count as it’s a very pretty Merino ewe to whom he’s pledged his troth. He’s not sure what a “troth” is but it’s in a lot of Dickens’ books he read as a kid so he knows it’s important to pledge his. Especially to a noble farm animal like his beautiful Sndrznsky who has stolen his heart.
In this book, I devote a lot of pages to his internalizing, which seems to be high on the list of stuff these Pulitzer folks look for. There’s one really dazzling scene where he ponders how clichés came about and fantasizes about their origins. Like that delightful phrase “blind alley” (which, I, for one can never hear too many times.). He ruminates and ponders and rumes some more and comes to the conclusion that it originally denoted a place where German shepherds congregated en masse, waiting to be hired by the seeing-challenged (PC term for blind people) and veterans with PTSD. This riveting scene takes up 26 pages, which is guaranteed to manipulate them even more than a teenaged boy’s chub during bathroom time. And, in much the same way.
There's another powerful scene in which he stares at clouds and figures out their shapes and how they affect his life. Don't start this scene if it's late at night and it's important to be at work early the next day!
One of the indoor farm animals will be a dog. His only function is to be in the book so I can use his picture on the cover and on the Intergnat. You and I know it’s just a frickin’ mutt, but people on the Intergnat have assigned a mystical aura to dogs and cats. You know, those critters that eat their own poop, cough up furballs and lick themselves all day long. We know that mostly they’re glorified door mats, but people get all weepy about them and giggly and attribute them with the same wisdom they do old Indian guys crying over some trash on Highway 10. THEY SELL BOOKS. And influence Pulitzer judges…


 Taking a break from his butt-licking and getting ready for his photo-op...
The protagonist will be a creepy loner with really bad breath, who, in real life, people would take a wide berth around when they see him with his sign begging for Ripple outside Target, but instantly make into a wise man simply because there’s a whole book centered around him and we see he thinks about pithy stuff like blind alleys. And clouds that look like jism... If he was so frickin’ wise why ain’t he a plumber’s assistant or a governor or something?
My protagonist is also an orphan. And a master (of Sndrznsky). And the son of a dog (not the one on the cover). This makes it a sure winner.
Yes, I could easily win next year, which makes my protest even more meaningful. I know what it takes after studying these things for hours days weeks. It’s important to know who’s handing out the hardware. The judges are elderly folks who braid the hair in their noses (the women) and meet at Golden Corral to discuss the nominated books. The men on the committee treat the books nominated the same way they do the fine wines they own. They don’t open them. That would destroy their value and besides, who has to actually read the nominated book? They can learn all they want to from the glorious Intergnat. The men also have lush bushes in their noses, but they use them differently than the women (most of the women…). They weave them cleverly around their noggins kind of like the comb-overs aging sportscasters do. Along with a few well-placed strands from the ear hairs.
This is the real secret as to why my book never gets nominated. I labored for years thinking they actually read the books. Don’t laugh—I bet you know at least one person in your own circle who thought the same thing. So maybe you knew, but are you willing to say that all of your friends wear those helmets and rode the short bus to h.s. and took all A.P. classes? So—cut me a break here.
The trick to getting on these judges’ radar is to effectively utilize the Intergnat. Most of us writers have been sold a bill of goods about what the ‘Gnat does. Social media doesn’t sell books. It doesn’t sell squat. It doesn’t sell books—it sells social media. No one cares about your stupid book on social media. They pretend to… so you’ll buy their book. Writers who can’t sell books have one problem—they write crappy books. Yakking about them all day long on social media sells three books total. That’s it. And that’s to trolls who are burning to write one-star reviews on it. When social media sells books, let me know. Otherwise, lay down by your dish with your butt-licking dog.
But, Pulitzer Prize judges do look at the Intergnat. All day long. It’s why they don’t have time to actually read the books themselves. Too busy Facebooking each other or Twittering about “that wonderful book about North Korea Dennis Rodman likes so well.” Think about this. 1. Dennis Rodman's picture with Dear Leader was on the “Gnat” one million, three hundred thousand and sixty-nine times last year. 2.  Dennis Rodman was the guest host, subbing for Chris Matthews 36 times, talking about stuff tingling down his leg. 3. A book set in North Korea won the Pulitzer. Make the connection, dummy! This ain’t nuclear physics!
So, if I weren’t about to withdraw from consideration, here’s what I’d do. Get me a babe to do my networking for me. As Lo Hai Qu so eloquently pointed out—“Blogbitches rule, blogdicks drool.” Okay. I accept that. If I was going to remain involved in the competition, I’d be on my knees beseeching my pal, Anonymous 9 (Blogbitch Supreme) if she’d please help this lowly Blogdick (me) out.
Anonymous 9 - Blog... Babe...


But I won’t. You can relax, 9. I’m out of all this. I just hope you nice folks “twit” and “face” my new book all over the Intergnat. I have but one goal for next year. That all the UPS drivers who deliver my books are forced to buy trusses.
(I hope you know this was all in fun, folks. Although, if I have to say this, it takes all the force away…) I do love the Intergnat and I truly do love the folks on here. True that. And they do sell books. Books on how to use the Intergnat to sell books…)
As John Goodman once (wisely) said, “See ya in the funny papers.”
Blue skies,Les
P.S. Attention MacArthur Grant peeps. I'm still available for this, but time's running out. Please take note...

New reviews of THE RAPIST and THE BITCH

Hi folks,
The reviews keep on a’comin’! Here are the most recent ones:
For THE RAPIST
Brandon Nagel for GoodreadsThe Rapist by Les Edgerton
I have read most of Les’s work and I must say this is his best yet. Ambitious and thought-provoking. Do not let the title dissuade you from reading. Raises a lot of questions about live and death. Loved it. Best read yet in 2014.
For THE BITCH
From Amazon5.0 out of 5 stars Cold Noir, January 28, 2014 By Carson J. Flanders- See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?) This review is from: The Bitch (Paperback) There's a grit to this noir that'll set your teeth on edge. Edgerton writes about a guy who never has good options--only a series of choices less repugnant than all the others. Jake has a life that no longer includes crime, until his ex cellmate calls and wants a favor. The "you owe me" kind of favor that's sure to turn out bad. How bad? Well, this is Les Edgerton writing, so don't expect Jake to catch too many breaks. It reminded me of A Simple Plan and the movie Fargo. Cold noir I'd call it, where temperature seems to drop right along with Jake's hopes for the future.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful 5.0 out of 5 stars Everybody Faces The Bitch, January 27, 2014 By Jack Getze (New Jersey, USA) - See all my reviewsAmazon Verified Purchase(What's this?) This review is from: The Bitch (Kindle Edition) I've watched a lot of cop shows, so I know The Bitch is what criminals call laws that say three strikes and you're out -- gonzo is the man convicted for the third felony to rot in prison for life. Something thieves and other non-violent cons think very hard about when they leave prison for the second time. (I figure violent guys can't help themselves.) In Les Edgerton's THE BITCH, which sports an ex-con and a nice guy for an author -- I call him Butch -- the authenticity and likability shine through protagonist Jake Bishop, a two-time loser. If I call this tale classic, true or traditional Noir, you know -- basically -- what's going happen to our new friend Jake. It's almost a spoiler. But the way Edgerton spins The Bitch out for us, shows us the workings of Jake's mind and soul as he travels down that frightening road of bad decisions, we know this wonderfully told, neatly written story is really about us -- every man and every woman. We know exactly what Jake Bishop's world feels like because it's a world we all think we know: Everything is fixed against us, no matter how hard we try. Careful. This book will touch you.

Thanks, Brandon, Carson and Jack! I’m just plain stoked that you liked these books. I appreciate the time you spent on writing a review—it means a lot.
Blue skies,Les

Twofer today! A handy template for writing reviews/blurbs/forewords...

Hi folks,
I know there are a bunch of fellow writers who visit this page occasionally, so I thought I’d post a Public Service Announcement for them. Most of us are asked to review each other’s work and/or to blurb it and while we’re all happy to do so (in hopes of getting the same back…), it is a time-consuming task which takes valuable minutes away from doing serious writer stuff… like gazing out the window.
Therefore, I’ve taken the liberty of stealing borrowing a handy aid to writing blurbs, reviews, and even forewords, from Ron Washam, the “hosemaster” of the like-named blog, HoseMaster of Wine, who has created a really cool template in the form of a Mad Lib. His was for wine books, and it was an easy task to steal adapt it for our purposes.
So, without further do-do, here is your handy-dandy template for cranking out a review for that masterpiece you’ve been asked to write one for:
Book Reviews for Dummies!
Blurb-writing Tips for Habitual Slackers!



Just when (second person pronoun) think there is nothing new to say about noir, along comes (author’s name). You’re holding in your (anatomical part)a book that manages to (bodily noise) about noir to fans in a way that is both provocative and (oh, just pick a goddamn adjective). I found myself (verb)aloud how (author’s name) has managed such a remarkable piece of (noun).

When I first began (gerund) about noir, I never dreamed that I’d be so (adjective). Or that noir would become so much a part of every day (activity). Now it seems that everyone (verb) a paperback copy with every (noun). Never in the history of man has noir been more (adjective). And, for that, we have a new generation of writers to thank, most notably (author’s name). I tip my (appendage)to him/her, and hope he/she grabs it and (verb)it all night long.

Human history and noir go together like love and (sexual position).

If you try to separate the two, someone’s (noun)gets hurt.

(Author’s name) understands this, and is able to explain (plural noun) and noir in a manner that even a (animal) would be able to understand. He/she’s a (title) of noir, and there are only (number) of those in the world. It would be wise of you to (verb) him/her, and the (beast of burden) he/she rode in on.

In this (adjective) book, one that I wish that I’d (verb—past tense), you’ll find the answers to many questions you may have about noir and (noun). What is the proper way to (verb) noir? (Author’s name) does a (adjective)job of explaining why putting a copy of his book in your (orifice) is just the beginning, remembering that your (orifice) is more than likely quite different than his/her (orifice). Vive le (French word)! This is just one of the many (plural noun) that (author’s name) provides in this (adjective) book.

My favorite stories have always been from (obscure French appellation). I want to savor a book on my death (furniture). And when I do, you can be sure that this will be the book folded calmly across my (body part).

Hope this helps! My heartfelt thanks for Ron Washam for this plagiarized version taken from his hysterical blog (well, he plagiarized it himself…). And, check him out. You’ll be glad you did.
Happy Reviewing!
Blue skies,Les
Next up: A post on interview questions that I’m never asked that I wish someone would. Like: What’s your favorite letter? Or, do you, like Richard Brautigan, have a burning desire to end a novel with the word mayonaise?