Duane Swierczynski's Blog, page 4

Lager, Eyepatches and Rockabilly

Erik Carlson (whose wife Hannah won the Starling lookalike contest last month) makes a podcast called Bibliodiscoteque where he creates soundtracks for the books of his favorite writers. Past installments have featured Steve Niles, Harlan Ellison and Christa Faust, and I'm flattered to report that Erik's gone and compiled a crazy punk, blues and rockabilly soundtrack for my novels Fun & Games and Hell & Gone. Erik emailed me in late October to ask if I had any suggestions, but I'm glad I didn't follow through with any, because I'm freakin' loving what Erik selected. Download the podcast and check it out for yourself, but right now I'm in my basement office writing to Rocket to Memphis' "I'm Bad," Sparkle Moore's "Skull & Crossbones," The Woolly Bandits' "Woman of Mass Destruction," and The Soft Boys' "I Want to Destroy You," just to name a few. Huge thanks, Erik. You've got a little thank-you present on its way to you...

Retreat to Goodisville 2012

Bacall, Goodis and Bogie, on the set of Dark Passage.
It's official; my partner in crime Lou Boxer has booked the bus, and we're finalizing the itinerary. What used to be a humble graveside tribute to Philly noir legend David Goodis has blossomed into a full-on noir adventure on wheels we're calling, "Retreat to Goodisville."

Here's the deal: at 10 a.m., Saturday January 7th, 2012 (the 45th anniversary of Goodis's death) we'll be meeting just outside The Lost Bar of Atlantis, 2442 Frankford Avenue. A coach bus will take 30 of us up to the Goodis grave in nearby Bensalem, PA. Along the way, we'll watch an excerpt of The Burglar, the 1957 shot-in-Philly crime noir, scripted by Goodis from his own novel. Bring your favorite Goodis passage, because at the man's grave we'll be paying tribute to him by reading excerpts from his work. Then it's back on the bus for a tour of prime Goodis locations, including the house where he lived with his parents (and wrote most of his novels), his birthplace, street corners and landmarks mentioned in Down There, Black Friday, Cassidy's Girl, Of Tender Sin, and much, much more. Plus, on the bus we'll have guest speakers, prizes, and beer. (Yes, we're allowed to imbibe on the bus. Lou checked!) Finally, we'll end up back at the Lost Bar for beer and snacks. The first round is on us; the snacks are courtesy the fine folks at the Lost Bar. Plus: just across the street, the Philadelphia Brewing Co. will be offering brief tours.

Want a seat on the bus? We're asking for $25 per person to cover transportation, bus snacks and incidentals. Seating is limited, so drop me a line at duane DOT swier AT verizon DOT net (with the subject line, "Retreat to Goodisville") and I'll send you an address where you can send a check to reserve your seat.

Don't want to enjoy the warmth and camaraderie of the bus? No worries; Goodis's characters were loners, too. Meet us at the grave site and we'll give you a list of our tour stops so you can join in. But trust me: the bus is going to be worth it. Early January in Philadelphia tends to be pretty damn cold.

Lou and I hope to see you many of you guys there. Any questions? Drop me a line. I'll post a follow-up when the bus is full, which based on our early head count, should be fairly soon.

Okay, I Lied

 
I will be making one more appearance before the end of the year, and it's a Jersey double-header. Noon next Saturday (December 3rd) I'll be hanging out with Jeff Marsick and Scott Barnett at Flemington, New Jersey's Comic Fusion (42 Main Street) as they celebrate the launch of their excellent creator-owned title, Dead Man's Party. I'll also be signing copies of Birds of Prey and whatever else you'd like. And then at 3 p.m. I'll be headed around the corner to Twice Told Tales and Moonstone Mystery (14 Bloomfield Avenue, 908-788-9094) to sign copies of Hell & Gone, and again, whatever else you'd like. Then really, I swear this time, this is it. You won't be seeing me again until 2012.

Anyway, if you're anywhere near the greater Flemington, NJ area, which includes ALL OF PHILADELPHIA AND NEW YORK, in my opinion... stop on by! Remember: nothing says "the holidays" like "personalized comics and crime novels."

Hell Comes to New Hope

This Saturday I'll be signing copies of Hell & Gone at Farley's Bookshop in New Hope, PA, nestled on the shores of the Delaware River. This is my only Philly-area appearance, and probably my last signing for quite a while, as I'm pretty much in chain-myself-to-my-desk mode through the end of the year. I'll be at Farley's from 1 p.m. until 4 p.m., so stop by and say hello. (44 South Main Street, 215-862-2542)

Guest Post: Reed Farrel Coleman Takes Us to Church

I met Reed Farrel Coleman the same night I met Ken Bruen and Jason Starr, during Edgars Week 2004. That night, I nervously dropped (and shattered) a pint glass full of beer right in front of Reed. For some reason, he continued to speak to me. We've served on con panels together, hoisted more beers together, even shed a tear together. Reed and me... we've been through quite a bit. So of course I'm proud to present a guest post from Reed, even though he still hasn't let me forget about that shattered beer. -D.S.


One Month/Two Books
By Reed Farrel Coleman

On November 8th, Gun Church, my second stand-alone novel will be released as an exclusive audio download by Audible.com. Later in the month, my 7th Moe Prager Mystery, Hurt Machine, will be released by Tyrus Books. Talk about two different journeys! Other than the fact that both novels bear two words titles, the writing experience and the novels themselves could not be more divergent. I guess that's why I love writing so much. Every project has its own distinct qualities and presents its own unique challenges.

Hurt Machine is the 7th novel in a series, but anyone who has followed Moe Prager's trials and tribulations knows that each novel in the series is its own animal. Moe ages throughout the series and because he does, he is forced to face the changing realities that aging represents. Moe's in his 60s at the beginning of the novel. Just two weeks before his daughter's wedding, he receives some pretty serious news about his health. His ex-wife Carmella, who had left him years earlier and moved up to Canada, returns to ask a favor of Moe, a favor she has no right to ask. It seems that Carmella's estranged sister has been murdered and no one in New York City seems very interested in finding her killer. Why? Well, as they say in marketing departments around the world, you'll have to read the book. Unique as Hurt Machine is, it only took me about five months to write. The advantage of a series is that the author knows his setting, knows the characters, knows how his characters think and feel. There's very little guessing for me when I write Moe.

On the other hand, it took me nearly six years to write and publish Gun Church. Strangely enough, the entire plot for Gun Church popped into my head the moment I got the idea for the novel. I can even remember the exact moment I had the idea. I was watching a weapons demonstration by the author Jim Born. During the Q & A, an audience member asked Jim something about the spread of pellets in a shotgun shell. Jim said something to the effect that only a true gun expert would know the answer to that. Bang! (no pun intended) The idea came fully formed into my head. A debauched former 80s literary wunderkind has fallen on hard times and is now teaching creative writing at a rural community college. A student tries to take over his class at gunpoint, but the washed up writer saves the day. He gets a second fifteen minutes of fame, but also gets deeply involved with a cult-like group of locals who worship handguns. I swear, that came to me in a flash. Unfortunately, the book itself took much longer to write.

The challenges were legion because not only does Gun Church feature a book within a book, first and third person narration, and sections in Irish dialect, but also includes a plot that revolves around art imitating life imitating art. It was like writing the anti-Moe book. I was forced to develop a whole new range of skills to tackle the problems I faced and to deal with all the moving parts. What I needed most was a patient editor who believed in the project enough to nurse me along. When the manuscript—in a very different form—finally found its way to Steve Feldberg at Audible.com, I found that editor. He found the book I had lost sight of.

Called a hard-boiled poet by NPR's Maureen Corrigan, Reed Farrel Coleman has published fourteen novels. He is the three-time recipient of the Shamus Award for Best Detective Novel of the Year and has been twice nominated for the Edgar. He has also won the Macavity, Barry, and Anthony Awards. Reed is an adjunct professor of English at Hofstra University and lives on Long Island with his family Visit Reed at www.reedcoleman.com or on Twitter: @ReedFColeman.

The Markham Affair

"Q.R. Markham." (Photo courtesy The Mysterious Bookshop.)
Last Wednesday night I was sitting in an Irish pub not far from the World Trade Center site, unwinding after a joint appearance at The Mysterious Bookshop. To my left was novelist Lawrence Block, one of my writing heroes. At one point our ultra-nerdy conversation turned to legendary thriller writer Robert Ludlum. Little did I know that within a week the person sitting to my right, Quentin Rowan, would be accused of plagiarizing material from Ludlum. As well as many other writers, including Ian Fleming, James Bamford, John Gardner, Geoffrey O'Brien and Charles McCarry.

News broke yesterday that Rowan, writing under the psuedonym "Q.R. Markham," lifted huge chunks of other books to cobble together his debut, Assassin of Secrets. Edward Champion, over at his blog Reluctant Habits, found more than two dozen instances of obscene plagiarism in the first 35 pages alone.

The whole affair leaves me feeling embarrassed, puzzled, and more than a little angry. Why?

Because I blurbed the fucking thing.


As I read it, nothing jumped out at me and screamed "plagiarism." Of the works Markham/Rowan apparently stole from, I've only read James Bamford's Body of Secrets: Anatomy of the Ultra-Secret National Security Agency, and I'm not one to memorize passages from a nonfiction book I read nearly 10 years ago. This is not an excuse; this is just letting you know why no alarm bells went off. When reading a novel for blurb purposes, I'm almost never thinking, Gee wonder if this guy ripped off anyone I've ever read...

But still, I'm mortified to be associated with this Frankenstein-ish heist job of a novel. If you purchased this book because of my blurb, I offer my sincere apologizes. Please return it immediately (you're still within most bookstores' two-week return window) and use your store credit to buy a Ludlum, Gardner, Fleming, or McCarry novel. Or Bamford's truly excellent Secrets. Or Geoffrey O'Brien's brilliant Fall of the House of Walworth, which I read (and loved) just last week.

I'm puzzled because I have no idea why Markham/Rowan thought he could get away with it. The guy's not just stealing a cool image here and there; as Champion has detailed, Markham/Rowan lifted huge, huge slabs of text. You could make the postmodern/pastiche argument, I suppose, but wouldn't a literary genius have the sense to let his editor and publisher in on the gag?

Nah, I'm pretty sure he was just stealing.

Which brings me to the anger part. I met Markham/Rowan briefly at the Mulholland Books party at Book Expo America this past spring, but didn't see him again until last Wednesday, when I chatted with him and his mother right before the event. At least, Markham/Rowan claimed that sweet woman was his mother. Who's to say?

Anyway... I'm angry because I can't help but think about what was going through his mind. Was he secretly laughing because he'd managed to dupe everybody in the room, from readers to editors to fellow writers to booksellers? Was he ticking down the moments until he was exposed... thinking that it might even be that very night? What was he thinking as he signed his name to those first copies, knowing that so many of the words beneath the title page belonged to other people?

Then again, Rowan wasn't even signing his own name.

The 45th Annual Goodis Memorial: Noir on Wheels

David Goodis, toiling on the Warner Bros. lot. (Courtesy Lou Boxer)Forty-five years ago this January, Philadelphia novelist David Goodis died at the young age of 49. And for the past few years, a bunch of us hardcore Goodis-heads have gathered at his graveside near the anniversary of his death to pay tribute, followed by a tour of Goodis locations (his residences, neighborhoods featured in his novels).

This year, however, Lou Boxer and I have been kicking around something a little more ambitious: a bus tour that would include film clips, readings, and more Goodis-centric stops (including filming locations for the 1957 set-in-Philadelphia crime flick The Burglar), followed by cold beer and warm conversation at a river ward taproom. The date: Saturday, January 7, 2012.

So my question for my fellow Goodis-heads (and anyone else interested):

If a bus tour were to happen, would you be willing to pony up $15-20 to help cover transportation? We're not looking for a hard commitment... more a general head count of who might be interested. We both think a bus tour would be so much more enjoyable than our usual caravan of cars; we just want to make sure the numbers work out. This fee would also include snacks and a few drinks, and maybe even some bonus Goodis prizes.

Drop us a line at duane DOT swier AT verizon DOT net or noircon AT gmail DOT com if you'd like to join the party, with the subject line "Goodis Tour." And feel free to spread the word!

Photo Contest Winner #3: Meet Starling!

... as portrayed by Ms. Hannah Carlson. The photo was snapped by Hannah's husband Erik, who wrote: "When we saw the contest [Hannah] jumped at the chance to dress up as Starling (and it was a great Halloween costume, too!)"

Anyway, Ms. Carlson has the look dead perfect, from arm tats to gun strap to ponytail. But it's also her slightly mischievous look that just screams "Starling" to me. The moment I opened the email I thought, Yep. That's her. Ready to do a shot and knee somebody in the face.

The Carlsons will enjoy a full year of signed copies of Birds of Prey from my personal comp stash. Issues #1 and 2 will go out together, followed by one every month until next August. Enjoy!

There were also two very fine honorable mentions who will be receiving signed copies of the first two issues of Birds. First up: Ms. Cherryfox, who reports that the wig she's wearing weighed a ton:


If you recognize that watermark, it's because Ms. Cherryfox created that winning photo of Mr. Raphael Went as Hardie (see earlier entry). Talk about your crossovers! I don't think Hardie would last long in a relationship with Starling, btw. For one thing, she could definitely out-drink/shoot/brawl him, and that would probably bug him after a while.

And finally Lauren (last name withheld for what I presume are Homeland Security-related issues) (I'M KIDDING LAUREN, just respecting your privacy) sent this ultra-spirited photo of Starling behind the wheel, which just makes me smile. She has Starling's love of gleeful mayhem down pat:

[image error] 
Congrats to everyone! And thanks so much for entering this crazy little contest. I do hope you all got some Hallowe'en mileage out of these costumes. (For the record, I spent the holiday dressed up as Hardie. And it wasn't ginger beer in my hand, either.)

Photo Contest Winner #2: Meet Mann (Possibly NSFW)

... a.k.a., Ms. Amber Love, comic book journalist and costumed entertainment host and all-around cool person. She's pretty much nailed Mann post-Fun & Games (highlight the next line to reveal spoilerish-material):  topless, with a gun, and missing an eye. I imagine this photo was snapped during another of Mann's adventures, between the events of the first two books, when she was taking out some other celebrity and making it look like an accident. The 9/11 tattoo is a fine touch, too, giving Mann's back story a new wrinkle. And the whole look calls to mind the 1973 Swedish exploitation thriller They Call Me One Eye, later referenced in Tarantino's Kill Bill flicks.

Anyway, huge points for Ms. Love a.) packing a real gun, and b.) going the full Mann. And credit also goes to Ashley N., a.k.a. @smash_is_nerdy on Twitter, who snapped this photo. Prizes will be winging their way to you, Ms. Love.

Next up: Hello, Starling!

Photo Contest WInner #1: Meet Hardie

Take a gander at Mr. Raphael Went's impression of Charlie Hardie, the hero of my novels Fun & Games and the recently-released Hell & Gone. (You can click the photo for a better look.) In his entry, Mr. Went writes:

I felt it was too easy to impale myself on the mic stand in the front room, or to go out and get shot at by all the people I've managed to piss off. Instead, I opted for a "before all the shit kicks off" Charlie Hardie, sat down watching old movies in a room that is big enough to fit my entire house into. Twice. I'm not REALLY watching an old movie though. There isn't even a tv in that room! I'm acting. Or posing, I guess. But if I were, I'd be watching...I don't know, let's say The Maltese Falcon. And the "booze" in the glass? Ginger beer! The whole photo is a lie and I have made a mockery out of poor Charlie.

Not at all, good sir. I think you nailed Mr. Hardie's world-weariness, staring off into the darkness is a very nice touch. You're probably wearing nicer kicks than Hardie would ever consider, and you look maybe a bit too fresh-faced and young... but those are mere quibbles. You win! Shoot me your mailing addy and I'll send out your hard-earned prizes.

(A lifetime supply of ginger beer!)

I kid, I kid...

Anyway, honorable mention goes to Mr. Ryan K Lindsay, who sent along this photo...

[image error]
... explaining, "I've attached a real 'think piece' of a photo for Charlie Hardie. I figure this image comes from a lost tale of his with a beard and some real worries about what he's done, and what he's left." I can dig it, Mr. Lindsay. Remind me of your addy and I'll send you a little bonus prize.

Stay tuned for... Mann! Possibly NSFW!