Gary Inbinder's Blog, page 5
November 3, 2015
Elmore Leonard's 10 Rules
“Elmore Leonard's Ten Rules of Writing
1. Never open a book with weather.
2. Avoid prologues.
3. Never use a verb other than "said" to carry dialogue.
4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb "said”…he admonished gravely.
5. Keep your exclamation points under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose.
6. Never use the words "suddenly" or "all hell broke loose."
7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
9. Don't go into great detail describing places and things.
10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.
My most important rule is one that sums up the 10.
If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.”
The late Elmore Leonard was an outstanding crime novelist; one of the best in the genre. Consequently, anything he had to say on the subject of writing was taken seriously—perhaps too seriously. For example, his often-quoted "Ten Rules of Writing." I suspect Leonard promulgated these rules with tongue firmly planted in cheek and we should therefore take them with a grain of salt. Tongue in cheek? Grain of salt? Are those clichés to be avoided like those referenced in Rule 6? If you want to get nit-picky, how about Rule 9, "Don't go into great detail...." Do you need the adjective "great" to modify "detail"? Maybe, in this context. Maybe not.
I believe most of the rules are questionable. Rule 7: "Use regional dialect, patois. sparingly." Better rewrite "Huckleberry Finn" Mr. Clemens. Rule 8: "Avoid detailed descriptions of characters." Take that, Charles Dickens. Rule 10. "Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip." That's right. Just do the Cliff's Notes version, or better yet, the Classic Comics version with cool illustrations. On the other hand, perhaps just scan the cover art, read the jacket blurb and forget the book. It'll save you time and money.
However, I'm fond of Number 4...he said affectionately.
I'll concentrate on Numero Uno, since that's of primary importance in a Decalogue, and finish fittingly with the summa.
1. Never open a book with weather.
I suppose Leonard was thinking of Bulwer-Lytton and Snoopy's infamous "It was a dark and stormy night." Fair enough. But what about this?
"When Chili first came to Miami Beach twelve years ago they were having one of their off-and-on cold winters: thirty-four degrees the day he met Tommy Carlo for lunch at Vesuvio's on South Collins and had his leather jacket ripped off. One his wife had given him for Christmas a year ago, before they moved down there."
Elmore Leonard, Get Shorty
Did Leonard violate his own First Commandment in the opening paragraph of one of his best novels? Granted, the reference to a day in Miami Beach that was so cold a hoodlum got his best leather jacket ripped off is a clever use of weather, but literally speaking it's still opening a book with weather. If you're going to have rules, Valjean, you had better follow them to the letter, said Inspector Javert officiously.
How about this?
"It was the rainy season in Bangkok. The air was saturated with a continuous fine drizzle, and often drops of rain would dance in a brilliant ray of sunlight. Rifts of blue were always visible here and there; and even when the clouds clustered most thickly round the sun, the sky at their circumference was dazzlingly blue. Before an approaching squall, it would turn ominously dark and threatening. A foreboding shade would shroud the predominantly green, low-roofed city dotted with palms."
Yukio Mishima, The Temple of Dawn
Mishima violated the hell out of Leonard's First Commandment, and ran afoul of 9 & 10, too. So I guess, according to Leonard's rules, we should consign all literature that uses "great" descriptive detail to set the mood and tone for a particular time and place to the literary scrap heap. And, you crime writers who enjoy quoting Leonard's rules ad nauseum, that would include Conan Doyle's fog-shrouded descriptions of Sherlock Holmes's Victorian London and Raymond Chandler's moody, atmospheric descriptions of pre-World War II Los Angeles.
Now let's cut to the summa: "If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it" What does "writing" sound like? Damned if I know, but here's a guess. "If it sounds like someone else's writing, I rewrite it." I can't say for sure that's what Leonard meant, but I think it's a reasonable educated guess.
A passage from Woody Allen's Comedy/Fantasy "Midnight in Paris" might shed some light on what Elmore Leonard was doing with his Ten Rules. In the movie, a contemporary wannabe novelist travels back in time to 1920s Paris, where he meets a host of creative luminaries, including his idol, Ernest Hemingway. In the scene, Gil, the wannabe novelist, asks Hemingway to read his manuscript.
GIL
Would you do me the biggest favor
in the world - I can't even ask •••
HEMINGWAY
What?
GIL
Would you read it?
HEMINGWAY
Your novel?
GIL
It's only about four hundred pages -
if you could just give me your
opinion.
HEMINGWAY
My opinion is I hate it.
GIL
You do?
HEMINGWAY
If it's bad I'll hate it because I hate bad writing and if it's good
I'll be envious and hate it all the more. You don't want the opinion of another writer.
The Hemingway character admits that writers are competitive. Hemingway had many imitators, good, bad and indifferent. Should writers follow Elmore Leonard's rules? Go ahead, be my guest. My prediction for your writing career? At best, you'll be a successful hack who imitates Leonard, just like all the hacks, good, bad and indifferent, who imitated Hemingway. That brings me to my summa, my one and only rule for writers.
Be yourself.
1. Never open a book with weather.
2. Avoid prologues.
3. Never use a verb other than "said" to carry dialogue.
4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb "said”…he admonished gravely.
5. Keep your exclamation points under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose.
6. Never use the words "suddenly" or "all hell broke loose."
7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.
8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.
9. Don't go into great detail describing places and things.
10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.
My most important rule is one that sums up the 10.
If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.”
The late Elmore Leonard was an outstanding crime novelist; one of the best in the genre. Consequently, anything he had to say on the subject of writing was taken seriously—perhaps too seriously. For example, his often-quoted "Ten Rules of Writing." I suspect Leonard promulgated these rules with tongue firmly planted in cheek and we should therefore take them with a grain of salt. Tongue in cheek? Grain of salt? Are those clichés to be avoided like those referenced in Rule 6? If you want to get nit-picky, how about Rule 9, "Don't go into great detail...." Do you need the adjective "great" to modify "detail"? Maybe, in this context. Maybe not.
I believe most of the rules are questionable. Rule 7: "Use regional dialect, patois. sparingly." Better rewrite "Huckleberry Finn" Mr. Clemens. Rule 8: "Avoid detailed descriptions of characters." Take that, Charles Dickens. Rule 10. "Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip." That's right. Just do the Cliff's Notes version, or better yet, the Classic Comics version with cool illustrations. On the other hand, perhaps just scan the cover art, read the jacket blurb and forget the book. It'll save you time and money.
However, I'm fond of Number 4...he said affectionately.
I'll concentrate on Numero Uno, since that's of primary importance in a Decalogue, and finish fittingly with the summa.
1. Never open a book with weather.
I suppose Leonard was thinking of Bulwer-Lytton and Snoopy's infamous "It was a dark and stormy night." Fair enough. But what about this?
"When Chili first came to Miami Beach twelve years ago they were having one of their off-and-on cold winters: thirty-four degrees the day he met Tommy Carlo for lunch at Vesuvio's on South Collins and had his leather jacket ripped off. One his wife had given him for Christmas a year ago, before they moved down there."
Elmore Leonard, Get Shorty
Did Leonard violate his own First Commandment in the opening paragraph of one of his best novels? Granted, the reference to a day in Miami Beach that was so cold a hoodlum got his best leather jacket ripped off is a clever use of weather, but literally speaking it's still opening a book with weather. If you're going to have rules, Valjean, you had better follow them to the letter, said Inspector Javert officiously.
How about this?
"It was the rainy season in Bangkok. The air was saturated with a continuous fine drizzle, and often drops of rain would dance in a brilliant ray of sunlight. Rifts of blue were always visible here and there; and even when the clouds clustered most thickly round the sun, the sky at their circumference was dazzlingly blue. Before an approaching squall, it would turn ominously dark and threatening. A foreboding shade would shroud the predominantly green, low-roofed city dotted with palms."
Yukio Mishima, The Temple of Dawn
Mishima violated the hell out of Leonard's First Commandment, and ran afoul of 9 & 10, too. So I guess, according to Leonard's rules, we should consign all literature that uses "great" descriptive detail to set the mood and tone for a particular time and place to the literary scrap heap. And, you crime writers who enjoy quoting Leonard's rules ad nauseum, that would include Conan Doyle's fog-shrouded descriptions of Sherlock Holmes's Victorian London and Raymond Chandler's moody, atmospheric descriptions of pre-World War II Los Angeles.
Now let's cut to the summa: "If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it" What does "writing" sound like? Damned if I know, but here's a guess. "If it sounds like someone else's writing, I rewrite it." I can't say for sure that's what Leonard meant, but I think it's a reasonable educated guess.
A passage from Woody Allen's Comedy/Fantasy "Midnight in Paris" might shed some light on what Elmore Leonard was doing with his Ten Rules. In the movie, a contemporary wannabe novelist travels back in time to 1920s Paris, where he meets a host of creative luminaries, including his idol, Ernest Hemingway. In the scene, Gil, the wannabe novelist, asks Hemingway to read his manuscript.
GIL
Would you do me the biggest favor
in the world - I can't even ask •••
HEMINGWAY
What?
GIL
Would you read it?
HEMINGWAY
Your novel?
GIL
It's only about four hundred pages -
if you could just give me your
opinion.
HEMINGWAY
My opinion is I hate it.
GIL
You do?
HEMINGWAY
If it's bad I'll hate it because I hate bad writing and if it's good
I'll be envious and hate it all the more. You don't want the opinion of another writer.
The Hemingway character admits that writers are competitive. Hemingway had many imitators, good, bad and indifferent. Should writers follow Elmore Leonard's rules? Go ahead, be my guest. My prediction for your writing career? At best, you'll be a successful hack who imitates Leonard, just like all the hacks, good, bad and indifferent, who imitated Hemingway. That brings me to my summa, my one and only rule for writers.
Be yourself.
October 9, 2015
Inspector Lefebvre Returns!
My second Inspector Lefebvre mystery,The Hanged Man: A Mystery in Fin de Siècle Paris (Pegasus Books) will be out in 2016. (Expected publication: August, 2016).
Paris: July, 1890. Inspector Achille Lefebvre and his wife Adele are enjoying their stay at a seaside resort—until a body found hanging from a bridge in a public park demands the Inspector's attention.
Is it suicide or murder? A twisted trail of evidence draws Inspector Lefebvre into a shadowy underworld of international intrigue, espionage, and terrorism. Time is of the essence; pressure mounts on the Sureté to get results. Achille's chief orders him to work with his former partner, Inspector Rousseau, now in charge of a special unit in the newly formed political brigade. But can Achille trust the detective who let him down in another case?
Inspector Lefebvre uses innovative forensics and a network of police spies to uncover a secret alliance, a scheme involving the sale of a cutting-edge high explosive, and an assassination plot that threatens to ignite a world war.
The Hanged Man: A Mystery in Fin de Siecle Paris
Paris: July, 1890. Inspector Achille Lefebvre and his wife Adele are enjoying their stay at a seaside resort—until a body found hanging from a bridge in a public park demands the Inspector's attention.
Is it suicide or murder? A twisted trail of evidence draws Inspector Lefebvre into a shadowy underworld of international intrigue, espionage, and terrorism. Time is of the essence; pressure mounts on the Sureté to get results. Achille's chief orders him to work with his former partner, Inspector Rousseau, now in charge of a special unit in the newly formed political brigade. But can Achille trust the detective who let him down in another case?
Inspector Lefebvre uses innovative forensics and a network of police spies to uncover a secret alliance, a scheme involving the sale of a cutting-edge high explosive, and an assassination plot that threatens to ignite a world war.
The Hanged Man: A Mystery in Fin de Siecle Paris
August 19, 2015
Kill Our Darlings?
The catch-phrase "Kill your darlings" entered the critic's lexicon a while back and its popularity seems to have increased since the release of the film "Kill Your Darlings" about the beat generation poets and writers. However, there seems to be some confusion about the source of the phrase and its original meaning. According to my research, it first appeared as "Murder your darlings" in a series of Cambridge University lectures given about a century ago by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch.
Sir Arthur was a well-regarded British man of letters who sometimes wrote under the pen name Q. He was prolific and his literary career spanned several decades, from the 1880's to the 1930's. "Murder your darlings" is taken from his lecture on Style:
"To begin with, let me plead that you have been told of one or two things which Style is not; which have little or nothing to do with Style, though sometimes vulgarly mistaken for it. Style, for example, is not—can never be—extraneous Ornament. You remember, may be, the Persian lover whom I quoted to you out of Newman: how to convey his passion he sought a professional letter-writer and purchased a vocabulary charged with ornament, wherewith to attract the fair one as with a basket of jewels. Well, in this extraneous, professional, purchased ornamentation, you have something which Style is not: and if you here require a practical rule of me, I will present you with this: ‘Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.’
Notice that Sir Arthur was not damning all ornamental prose, just the "extraneous" or superfluous ornament, what might be called ornament for ornament's sake. Perhaps the professional letter-writer in his example was paid by the word. I can imagine him writing ostentatious flattery such as "thine eyes shimmer like twin limpid pools of liquid lapis lazuli." However, if the letter-writer had not penned such flowery stuff the young man, and the object of his affection, might have felt cheated. Under the circumstances, would such ornament be "extraneous"? After all, the purpose of the letter would be to "convey" the young man's passion to the young woman in a culturally acceptable manner. "I got the hots for you, baby" would have been direct, but highly inappropriate.
Practically speaking, the presumably perfumed prose of the Persian letter-writer would be more suitable to the particular time, place and manner than the tough, lean style of Mickey Spillane or Elmore Leonard.
Before writers accede to demands that we "kill our darlings", we should consider the suitability of our language to the genre, the story, the characters—the literary gestalt. What's right for a hard-boiled thriller could be wrong for an historical romance, and vice versa.
I would also distinguish between Sir Arthur's original use of the word "murder" and the "kill" into which it has morphed. Strictly speaking, murder is an unjustified homicide. Killing can be justified when done in self-defense or defense of others. "Killing darlings," in literary terms, can be justified in the editing of extraneous ornament. However, taking a blue pencil to all ornament, much of Shakespeare for example, because the editor or critic prefers a terse style to the Bard's poetic effusiveness could be akin to an act of "murder."
Sir Arthur was a well-regarded British man of letters who sometimes wrote under the pen name Q. He was prolific and his literary career spanned several decades, from the 1880's to the 1930's. "Murder your darlings" is taken from his lecture on Style:
"To begin with, let me plead that you have been told of one or two things which Style is not; which have little or nothing to do with Style, though sometimes vulgarly mistaken for it. Style, for example, is not—can never be—extraneous Ornament. You remember, may be, the Persian lover whom I quoted to you out of Newman: how to convey his passion he sought a professional letter-writer and purchased a vocabulary charged with ornament, wherewith to attract the fair one as with a basket of jewels. Well, in this extraneous, professional, purchased ornamentation, you have something which Style is not: and if you here require a practical rule of me, I will present you with this: ‘Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.’
Notice that Sir Arthur was not damning all ornamental prose, just the "extraneous" or superfluous ornament, what might be called ornament for ornament's sake. Perhaps the professional letter-writer in his example was paid by the word. I can imagine him writing ostentatious flattery such as "thine eyes shimmer like twin limpid pools of liquid lapis lazuli." However, if the letter-writer had not penned such flowery stuff the young man, and the object of his affection, might have felt cheated. Under the circumstances, would such ornament be "extraneous"? After all, the purpose of the letter would be to "convey" the young man's passion to the young woman in a culturally acceptable manner. "I got the hots for you, baby" would have been direct, but highly inappropriate.
Practically speaking, the presumably perfumed prose of the Persian letter-writer would be more suitable to the particular time, place and manner than the tough, lean style of Mickey Spillane or Elmore Leonard.
Before writers accede to demands that we "kill our darlings", we should consider the suitability of our language to the genre, the story, the characters—the literary gestalt. What's right for a hard-boiled thriller could be wrong for an historical romance, and vice versa.
I would also distinguish between Sir Arthur's original use of the word "murder" and the "kill" into which it has morphed. Strictly speaking, murder is an unjustified homicide. Killing can be justified when done in self-defense or defense of others. "Killing darlings," in literary terms, can be justified in the editing of extraneous ornament. However, taking a blue pencil to all ornament, much of Shakespeare for example, because the editor or critic prefers a terse style to the Bard's poetic effusiveness could be akin to an act of "murder."
June 20, 2015
The American Library In Paris Book Award
"THE AMERICAN LIBRARY IN PARIS BOOK AWARD is given to the best book of the year in English about France or the French-American encounter."
"The Devil in Montmartre" is listed among this year's nominees. You can view all the 2015 nominees on Pinterest:
https://www.pinterest.com/americanlib...
The library will announce the short list in mid-July. They will announce the winner at an award ceremony in Paris in November.
You can find more information about this prestigious award on the library's website:
https://www.americanlibraryinparis.or...
"The Devil in Montmartre" is listed among this year's nominees. You can view all the 2015 nominees on Pinterest:
https://www.pinterest.com/americanlib...
The library will announce the short list in mid-July. They will announce the winner at an award ceremony in Paris in November.
You can find more information about this prestigious award on the library's website:
https://www.americanlibraryinparis.or...
May 19, 2015
Flipping Fictive Stereotypes
I recently engaged in an informal chat about characterization and stereotyping in which I used the example of a pirate as a familiar cliché.
We get our image of a pirate from Stevenson's "Treasure Island," and more recently from "Pirates of the Caribbean" and the late Robert Newton's portrayal of pirates in films. The Stevenson/Newton pirate is a guy with a peg leg, an eye patch, a parrot perched on his shoulder. This pirate punctuates all his sentences with an "Aaarrgh!"
But many pirates did not have peg legs, eye patches, and parrots. As for the "Aaaarrgh!" it goes well with a certain English accent, which leaves out the French and Spanish pirates, not to mention others.
Put in context, anyone who commits an act of piracy, regardless of physical appearance or "Aarrghs!" is a pirate. That doesn't mean we can't use the familiar "Long John Silver" type in a story about pirates, however we should consider alternatives, including those that flip the cliché.
In crime fiction, we're familiar with criminal stereotyping based on physiognomy. Shakespeare's Richard III is an excellent example:
"I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling Nature,
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them—"
Criminal types marked by disfigurement or deformity are familiar from genre films and comics; just think of the villains confronted by Batman and Dick Tracy.
A little more than a century ago, the Italian Criminologist Cesare Lombroso, held a theory of criminal identification based on physiognomy that I referenced in "The Devil in Montmartre", a crime novel set in 1889, when Lombroso's theory was on the cutting edge of forensics:
"Lombroso, the celebrated Italian criminologist, believed the criminal was a definite anthropological type bearing physical and mental stigmata, the product of heredity, atavism, and degeneracy. Could you read evil in a face, a body, mannerisms and gestures? Would the man Achille was looking for be simian and grotesque like Lautrec? Perhaps alienation from decent society had motivated him to destroy beauty in revenge for the rejection brought on by his deformity. Achille pondered another literary association, Hugo’s hideously deformed Quasimodo. According to Lombroso’s theory of criminal physiognomy, Quasimodo would have been a prime suspect in a Ripper type murder investigation. Nevertheless, Hugo had portrayed the hunchback as a noble, self-sacrificing character who loved the beautiful Esmeralda. But then, Hugo was a great Romantic of the previous generation, not a modern scientist."
Victor Hugo flipped the stereotype with the admirable Quasimodo, as did Oscar Wilde in "The Picture of Dorian Grey." Dorian remains youthful and handsome while his portrait reflects the ugliness of the crimes etched on his soul.
Flipping stereotypes is also the stuff parody is made of; see for example "Monty Python and the Holy Grail." After that, it's hard to watch a film about a stereotypical King Arthur and his knights without cracking a smile.
Appearances are deceiving and character is revealed through actions and words, regardless of appearance. Should a writer use stereotypes, flip them, or avoid them altogether? I don't think I can give a definitive answer. Perhaps it depends on the story and the context in which the character appears.
We get our image of a pirate from Stevenson's "Treasure Island," and more recently from "Pirates of the Caribbean" and the late Robert Newton's portrayal of pirates in films. The Stevenson/Newton pirate is a guy with a peg leg, an eye patch, a parrot perched on his shoulder. This pirate punctuates all his sentences with an "Aaarrgh!"
But many pirates did not have peg legs, eye patches, and parrots. As for the "Aaaarrgh!" it goes well with a certain English accent, which leaves out the French and Spanish pirates, not to mention others.
Put in context, anyone who commits an act of piracy, regardless of physical appearance or "Aarrghs!" is a pirate. That doesn't mean we can't use the familiar "Long John Silver" type in a story about pirates, however we should consider alternatives, including those that flip the cliché.
In crime fiction, we're familiar with criminal stereotyping based on physiognomy. Shakespeare's Richard III is an excellent example:
"I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling Nature,
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them—"
Criminal types marked by disfigurement or deformity are familiar from genre films and comics; just think of the villains confronted by Batman and Dick Tracy.
A little more than a century ago, the Italian Criminologist Cesare Lombroso, held a theory of criminal identification based on physiognomy that I referenced in "The Devil in Montmartre", a crime novel set in 1889, when Lombroso's theory was on the cutting edge of forensics:
"Lombroso, the celebrated Italian criminologist, believed the criminal was a definite anthropological type bearing physical and mental stigmata, the product of heredity, atavism, and degeneracy. Could you read evil in a face, a body, mannerisms and gestures? Would the man Achille was looking for be simian and grotesque like Lautrec? Perhaps alienation from decent society had motivated him to destroy beauty in revenge for the rejection brought on by his deformity. Achille pondered another literary association, Hugo’s hideously deformed Quasimodo. According to Lombroso’s theory of criminal physiognomy, Quasimodo would have been a prime suspect in a Ripper type murder investigation. Nevertheless, Hugo had portrayed the hunchback as a noble, self-sacrificing character who loved the beautiful Esmeralda. But then, Hugo was a great Romantic of the previous generation, not a modern scientist."
Victor Hugo flipped the stereotype with the admirable Quasimodo, as did Oscar Wilde in "The Picture of Dorian Grey." Dorian remains youthful and handsome while his portrait reflects the ugliness of the crimes etched on his soul.
Flipping stereotypes is also the stuff parody is made of; see for example "Monty Python and the Holy Grail." After that, it's hard to watch a film about a stereotypical King Arthur and his knights without cracking a smile.
Appearances are deceiving and character is revealed through actions and words, regardless of appearance. Should a writer use stereotypes, flip them, or avoid them altogether? I don't think I can give a definitive answer. Perhaps it depends on the story and the context in which the character appears.
January 25, 2015
Richmond Times-Dispatch Reviews The Devil in Montmartre
The Richmond Times-Dispatch just gave "The Devil" a stellar review!
"Inbinder draws deeply on the well of French history, including its shameful anti-semitism, as he creates a whodunit that combines a killer plot with skillful characterization. And the latter includes not only the human cast but also Paris itself, a metropolis in which splendor coexists with sin. Add Inbinders revelatory prose...and the reader comes away emotionally exhausted but exhilarated by the author's first venture in the genre."
You can read the entire review online here:
http://www.richmond.com/entertainment...
"Inbinder draws deeply on the well of French history, including its shameful anti-semitism, as he creates a whodunit that combines a killer plot with skillful characterization. And the latter includes not only the human cast but also Paris itself, a metropolis in which splendor coexists with sin. Add Inbinders revelatory prose...and the reader comes away emotionally exhausted but exhilarated by the author's first venture in the genre."
You can read the entire review online here:
http://www.richmond.com/entertainment...
December 2, 2014
Crimespree Reviews The Devil In Montmartre
There's a great new review of The Devil in Montmartre in Crimespree Magazine(12/2/14):
"Indications are that this is the first in a series, I certainly hope so as I would love to read more adventures with Inspector Lefebvre. I always wished Caleb Carr had written more in his ALIENIST series, well, I have found my replacement." Crimespree Magazine
http://crimespreemag.com/
"Indications are that this is the first in a series, I certainly hope so as I would love to read more adventures with Inspector Lefebvre. I always wished Caleb Carr had written more in his ALIENIST series, well, I have found my replacement." Crimespree Magazine
http://crimespreemag.com/
November 10, 2014
More Praise for The Devil In Montmartre
"Inbinder's mystery debut shows Montmartre at its atmospheric best--inhabited by characters as diverse and devious as Paris can offer." - Kirkus
"The strengths of The Devil in Montmartre are its richly developed characters, a fully realized and grounded historical setting in place and time, and an intriguing who-done-it plot with a brilliant detective for a protagonist. The novel is rich with historical details, and with insight provided by the narrator who commands capacious and detailed knowledge of the period and of the characters." - Bewildering Stories
The Devil in Montmartre will be out in e-book December 8 and hardcover December 15, 2014 and is available for pre-order at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other retailers world-wide. A great holiday gift for fans of historical mystery!
"The strengths of The Devil in Montmartre are its richly developed characters, a fully realized and grounded historical setting in place and time, and an intriguing who-done-it plot with a brilliant detective for a protagonist. The novel is rich with historical details, and with insight provided by the narrator who commands capacious and detailed knowledge of the period and of the characters." - Bewildering Stories
The Devil in Montmartre will be out in e-book December 8 and hardcover December 15, 2014 and is available for pre-order at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other retailers world-wide. A great holiday gift for fans of historical mystery!
November 1, 2014
Historical Novel Society Reviews The Devil In Montmartre
"A macabre murder mystery with a host of intriguing characters...A young Moulin Rouge Can-Can dancer’s body is found in the sewer under strange circumstances that have the police force questioning a host of individuals acquainted with the victim...The story covers only a handful of days, and is told through multiple perspectives, which makes it more challenging for the reader to decide on the identity of the culprit—a satisfying mystery to the end. Highly recommended for Ripper fans and lovers of fin de siècle!" Historical Novels Review
A great review of The Devil In Montmartre! You can read the entire review on The Historical Novel Society website:
http://historicalnovelsociety.org/rev...
A great review of The Devil In Montmartre! You can read the entire review on The Historical Novel Society website:
http://historicalnovelsociety.org/rev...
August 4, 2014
Early Praise for The Devil in Montmartre
The Devil in Montmartre has received the following from two outstanding writers in the Mystery/Thriller genre:
“Fin-de-siecle Paris comes brilliantly alive in The Devil in Montmarte. With an insidious conspiracy against Toulouse-Lautrec and a cast of characters including artists, writers, Can-Can dancers, and an evil circus clown, Gary Inbinder lays a plot as fascinating as the midnight streets of the Parisian Right Bank.” (Michael Wiley, Shamus Award-winning author of A Bad Night’s Sleep)
“Has Jack the Ripper reemerged in Paris? Or did Toulouse-Lautrec, or any number of colorful suspects, dismember a beautiful young woman? With vivid historical detail, Inbinder takes us on a twisted journey through gaudy, gritty fin-de-siecle Paris to a shocking denouement.” (Barbara Corrado Pope, author of The Missing Italian Girl)
The Devil in Montmartre is
available for pre-order (hardcover and e-book)on Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble and other booksellers worldwide.
The expected U.S. release date (hardcover)is December 15, 2014. I can hardly wait! ;)
“Fin-de-siecle Paris comes brilliantly alive in The Devil in Montmarte. With an insidious conspiracy against Toulouse-Lautrec and a cast of characters including artists, writers, Can-Can dancers, and an evil circus clown, Gary Inbinder lays a plot as fascinating as the midnight streets of the Parisian Right Bank.” (Michael Wiley, Shamus Award-winning author of A Bad Night’s Sleep)
“Has Jack the Ripper reemerged in Paris? Or did Toulouse-Lautrec, or any number of colorful suspects, dismember a beautiful young woman? With vivid historical detail, Inbinder takes us on a twisted journey through gaudy, gritty fin-de-siecle Paris to a shocking denouement.” (Barbara Corrado Pope, author of The Missing Italian Girl)
The Devil in Montmartre is
available for pre-order (hardcover and e-book)on Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble and other booksellers worldwide. The expected U.S. release date (hardcover)is December 15, 2014. I can hardly wait! ;)
