Grab you by the nuts and drag you to the comedy club kind of writing…
I’m not going to try to be as clever or original in this review as Matthew McBride is in Frank Sinatra in a Blender. Holy hell, what a ride!
Just some thoughts. My Kindle ran out of highlighter while I was reading Frank Sinatra in a Blender. See, I started on page two highlighting everything that made me laugh or taught me something about raw noir writing. The book is a perfect expression of noir. Hell, Plato might call it Noir.
What I appreciate about Matthew McBride’s voice is this: deadpan delivery, outrageously clever constructions, wild juxtapositions of ideas that normally don’t go together.
Another thing I thought of while reading FSIAB is that the plotting was similar to Raymond Chandler’s: fast paced, always veering left and right, catch you with a two by four to the back of your head kind of plots. You’re going one direction full tilt and then next scene, you’re in a different character’s head. And here’s the thing: this is noir. You’re not supposed to suspend disbelief completely. But Matthew’s revolving narrators keep you guessing, and you get involved in the twists and turns. And when Frank is shoved in a blender, believe me, you’re in it. You’re not supposed to believe in it. But you do. Weird.
Another thought: I read the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy years ago, and I thought it was funny, but I could only handle a few pages at a time before the silliness started to piss me off. There was no real story there, just Douglas Adams riffing one liners. Frank Sinatra in a Blender is a different kind of humor. A weird balance between a series of hysterically funny observations and one liners, and an actual story with characters, action, blood, guts, and lots of drugs and alcohol.
Lots of drugs and alcohol.
Frank Sinatra in a Blender works. The genius of it is that somehow, it works. I’ve never read anything that sustained top-shelf humor for so long, with such originality, and in a way that kept me turning the pages.
Make no mistake about it. This is an art form. It’s rough, in your face, grab you by the nuts and drag you to the comedy club kind of writing.
