Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Book Review: Beat to a Pulp: Superhero

Beat to a Pulp: Superhero
Edited by David Cranmer, Scott D. Parker
September 2012, 1.99 Kindle

Beat to a Pulp: Superhero, available at Amazon.

The Beat to a Pulp anthology series may be a throwback to the era of pulp magazines, but don’t expect dusty relics. The collections have a decidedly modern sensibility, keeping the action and the grit, while discarding some of the more dated tropes. As a whole, the series encompasses all that the pulps once offered: crime fiction, noir, hardboiled detective stories, westerns, sci-fi—even the occasional weird tale. Usually bargain priced, the books live up to their imprint’s name, packing a lot of punch for the buck.

This collection may be the best of the Beat to a Pulps to date, and that’s partly thanks to the theme. Each story takes on the topic of superheroes, and the fun is in finding out just what that means to the authors involved, as each has a decidedly different interpretation.  The heroes (and villains) range from children to senior citizens, from masterminds to ordinary garbage men. Some follow a solid code of ethics, while others are out of control and bent on revenge. The story’s settings span from the Revolutionary War era to some time in the far future, though plenty take place in the here and now.

Don’t worry that the unusual settings and characters are just a gimmick. These stories show some writing chops, and even the simplest of them are just waiting to give you a wallop when you least expect it. Jake Hinson starts things off well with “The Long Drop,” in which a future New York City patrolled by caped super-cops is combined with an old-school frame-up. The ending manages to be both witty and satisfying, if not happy, but that’s the nature of noir—if anything seems to be going too well … just wait.

Kevin Burton Smith’s “Revenge of the Red Avenger” is narrated by a six year-old, yet manages to avoid sentimental cheese. While it just might get you in the feels with its world of secret clubs, best friends, and cobbled-together hero outfits made of towels and rain boots, the dark grimness of reality is painfully present. Even childhood wonder has another side. Liam Jose’s story (“Dark Guy in … Terror on the Digger!”) also features children, but gets even more gruesome. It may be the most brutal revenge story you’ll ever read that transpires in classroom coat closets and on the playground.

The characters aren’t all kids—not by a long shot. (And they’re not all good guys, either.) In “Spoiled,” Keith Rawson introduces us to an aging megalomaniac millionaire who is more villain than hero, and has become even more frightening as his mind starts to crumble. The heroine of Sandra Seamans’ “Moon Mad” would seem more at home collecting cans from dumpsters than busting up a sex slavery ring, but that’s the beauty of the story. A self-appointed (and mentally unstable) vigilante tries to keep his apartment building free of what he perceives as villains among the tenants in “Phantom Black and the Big Wide Open” by Garnett Elliott, even though it means frequent beatings for himself. In one of the strongest entries in the collection, Thomas Pluck’s “Garbage Man,” a trash hauler gets into a tense standoff with a neighborhood gangbanger.

There’s not a bad story in the bunch, though some will naturally resonate differently with different readers. Just as comic book fans have their preferred heroes, you’ll definitely have a favorite. 

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

6 Recommended Scary Reads for Halloween

A few years ago, author Neil Gaiman proposed the idea of giving books for Halloween—an All Hallow’s Read. “Give children scary books they’ll like and can handle,” he wrote. “Give adults scary books they’ll enjoy.” While I like the idea of Halloween as a book-giving (and book-getting) holiday, I don’t think you can beat giving a book to yourself.

With that in mind, I present this year’s picks for Halloween reads. Just as in previous years, I try to select books I’ve read that are less likely to be recommended (I presume you’ve heard of Dracula), and I always include books of varying degrees of horror. Even the squeamish should find something here to like, though there’s no lack of creepiness.

Be brave! Halloween only comes once a year. You might discover, though, that you want to visit the dark side all year long. (In that case, check out the Halloween picks for previous years here and here.)

The Beetle by Richard Marsh

The Beetle, by Richard Marsh, 1889. Click to order.


The Beetle was published in 1889, the same year as Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and you might be surprised to learn that the supernatural horror novel initially outsold the vampire tale three times over. While the public ate up the story of an insect creature “born of neither god nor man,” critics found it a little too unpleasant, declaring it “sordid and vulgar.” While it may not be (very) vulgar by today’s standards, it’s still plenty unpleasant. The title insect is a shapeshifter who has come to London in pursuit of a member of British parliament, Paul Lessingham, who has angered the devotees of a bizarre Egyptian cult. The creature is alternately a slobbering old codger or a brazenly naked woman, but is at its most terrifying as a huge, slimy scarab that attacks in a revolting way that is almost sexual. Part romance, part horror, and part detective story, The Beetle shifts perspectives several times, then culminates in an action-laden pursuit by train with an unforgettable ending. The Beetle was filmed in 1919, though all reels are now lost. Until some smart filmmaker makes it again, you’ll have to plumb its perversity in print.

Factory Town by Jon Bassoff

Factory Town by Jon Bassoff, 2014. Click to order.


If 19th-century horror isn’t for you, then how about something that’s brand spankin’ new? Last year, Jon Bassoff’s Corrosion made my list of favorite books of the year, and now—just in time for Halloween—he’s done it again. By “it,” I mean he’s come up with something that’s just as dark and depraved as his debut novel, yet it’s startlingly different. In Factory Town, Russell Carver is seeking a missing girl in a strange, decayed city that resembles Jeunet & Caro’s Delicatessen: a post-apocalyptic ruin that feels simultaneous historic and futuristic. As Russell frantically searches for the girl, he witnesses a seemingly-endless parade of bizarre characters engaged in disturbing activities that make it difficult to tell exactly what’s going on, or where (and what) the town actually is. Hell? A dream? Some sort of institution? You’ll think all of those things at times, and more, until the clues, cleverly inserted into this insane landscape by Bassoff, start emerging, along with the truth. Factory Town is like a spiral—it swings around many times before you’ll start to narrow in on the center, giving you time to realize (and fear) what’s coming. Get ready for a full review soon, but in the meantime, see for yourself why Bassoff is becoming the name that defines psycho-noir.

I Am Legend by Richard Matheson

I Am Legend by Richard Matheson, 1954. Click to order.


Written in 1954, Richard Matheson’s sole-survivor novel has been, and still is, tremendously influential to the zombie genre. That’s despite the fact that the undead in his book are somewhat more like vampires than what we think of as zombies today, but the fact remains that without I Am Legend, there would likely not have been a Night of the Living Dead. It’s been directly adapted into film at least three times (Does I Am Omega count?), beginning with Vincent Price in The Last Man, then Omega Man, and most recently, I Am Legend. Think you don’t like zombies? Then you should know that the best part of I Am Legend—and its focus—is the emphasis on survival. Protagonist Robert Neville spends his days scavenging the city for supplies and re-fortifying his house before the night sets in. As the years pass, his worst enemy might actually be loneliness. At 160 pages, the book is really more of a novella, and the action makes it a quick read (or re-read).

Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man’s Back by Joe R. Lansdale

"Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man's Back" by Joe R. Lansdale, 1986. Click to order. (Kindle edition is currently .99)


If you don’t have much time for a Halloween read this year, consider this short story. It’s probably one of the best sci-fi horror stories ever crafted, and it's certainly one of Lansdale’s best. It’s literate, disturbing, and startlingly original. The story takes place after Earth has been massacred by a nuclear bomb. Paul, one of the survivors, was part of the team responsible for creating the bomb, and his guilt (especially over the loss of his daughter) is crippling. He spends his nights allowing his wife to work an elaborate tattoo onto his back, with her enjoying inflicting the pain she believes he deserves almost as much as he enjoys doing his penance. When the survivors, who have been dwelling underground, decide to check out the surface, things get weird. The fact that this strange little story is so powerful is testament to Lansdale’s skills, and if you’re wary of shelling out for a single story, get over it. This one is well worth the buck.

Come Closer by Sara Gran

Come Closer by Sara Gran, 2006. Click to order.


Amanda’s life seems perfect and normal—she’s a happily married architect—until she starts noticing odd things, like a persistent, unexplained noise in the apartment. Even more strange is the fact that she starts doing unusual things herself that seem beyond her control. She writes an obscene message to her boss. She burns her husband with a cigarette. She talks to strange men in sketchy bars (which means that she’s also going to sketchy bars). Her atypical behavior might be related to the dreams she’s having of a beautiful but somewhat demonic woman. Is Amanda slowly becoming possessed? Or is she insane? While the idea of insanity vs. possession is an old one, Gran’s book is refreshingly modern and smart, not to mention well paced and told in a cool, straightforward way.

A Good and Happy Child by Justin Evans

A Good and Happy Child by Justin Evans, 2007. Click to order.


I picked up Justin Evans’ debut novel on a whim, attracted by a cover that looks both demonic and literary, covered in blurbs from pretty credible sources. I have to say that the packaging is perfect, because the book is plenty creepy, and it will definitely appeal to those who prefer their scares on the intellectual side. George Davies is a thirty year-old father who finds that he’s unable to pick up his infant son, as if he’s revolted by him. In therapy, George begins to recall his childhood, which was profoundly disturbed after his father died in unusual circumstances, just after sending a series of rambling letters. He acquires an imaginary friend, who may be supernatural or simply a psychological result of his trauma. His parents’ academic friends become involved in ways that could be exacerbating the problem, and secrets from the past are revealed as we begin to understand more about why the adult George is the way he is. A horror novel for those who don’t necessarily like horror, though it’s just dark enough to impact those who do.



Have you read any of this year’s selections? What did you think? If you have a scary novel or story to recommend, tell me your favorite in the comments section.

Friday, October 3, 2014

Book Review: The Pothunters by P. G. Wodehouse

My reading of Wodehouse has been haphazard up till recently. I devoured the Jeeves and Wooster books when I first discovered them, then set about reading whatever turned up at the used bookstore: a Blandings novel here, a Psmith there. It occurred to me at some point that reading all of Wodehouse’s 90-or-so books is something I’d very much like to do before I die, so I’ve begun reading them in order of publication to fully appreciate his evolution as a writer.

I didn’t originally plan to review each novel, which is why you may have already read my reviews of Tales of St. Austin’s (his third published book, though the stories included were among his first written fiction) and William Tell Told Again (his fifth book). I’m backtracking now, in the interest of ultimately having a complete set of Wodehouse reviews (provided I don’t get hit by a bus).

First edition of the Pothunters, 1902.


The Pothunters was Wodehouse’s first published novel, and it first appeared in serial form in Public School Magazine, a monthly publication read primarily by public school boys (keep in mind that, in England, “public school” refers to what most Americans would think of as private school). The serial version was cut short when the magazine ceased publication in March, 1902 (it was bought out by the publisher of a rival magazine, The Captain, for whom Wodehouse would later write stories). Rather than leave the story hanging, the last part of The Pothunters was summarized in the final issue, taking the form of a letter, in which one of the characters explained the gist of the plot’s resolution.

Adam & Charles Black published the complete story in book form in September of 1902. (As Wodehouse’s first publication, it is now highly sought after by collectors in the first edition, and commands prices of several thousands of dollars in average condition.) The book takes place at the fictional school of St. Austin’s, where most of his school stories are set (when they’re not at Wrykyn). Wodehouse himself attended public school and participated in a lot of the activities that turn up in the tales: cricket, boxing, working on the school magazine.

Wodehouse’s personal experiences might make for a realistic touch to The Pothunters, but it might come off as too real for those expecting latter-day Wodehouse shenanigans. There’s a quaintness, if not hilarity, to the book. The plot (which there’s not a lot of) concerns the theft of some sports trophies (the “pots” of the title) from the school pavilion, along with some petty cash. A student, Jim, is in a bit of a bind for a couple of reasons. Not only did he break into the pavilion to crib some test notes, but the amount of money taken is the same amount he lost betting on boxing. While students, teachers, and even the police try to solve the case, Jim spends most of the novel worrying about winning his lost money back by winning at sports.

While there’s a bit of a crime here, don’t expect Wooster and the cow creamer. Wodehouse’s first effort lacks the master plotting and subplotting he’s known for. It also lacks the characterization. I found the boys difficult to keep straight, and not just because instead of Gussie Fink-Nottle and Catsmeat Pirbright we’ve got names like Jim and Tony—it’s the lack of any real, defining characteristics. It may have been Wodehouse’s intent to write about schoolboys that could be any schoolboys, but it leaves the reader with little to latch onto. In subsequent works, even minor characters are important threads in the plot, and often reappear in unexpected ways. Here, they meander onstage and are soon forgotten. 

Wodehouse as a young cricketer.


Of course, this is Wodehouse, so even if there’s a lot more room to breathe between jokes, he still tucks them in. A few plum lines:

“The first match he struck promptly and naturally went out. No first match ever stays alight for more than three-fifths of a second.”

“It seemed to Tony for the next half-minute that his cousin’s fists were never out of his face. He looked on the world through a brown haze of boxing-glove.”

“James, my son, if you will postpone your suicide for two minutes, I will a tale unfold.”

“ … in the centre of the ring the band of the local police force—the military being unavailable due to the exigencies of distance—were seating themselves with the grim determination of those who know that they are going to play the soldiers’ chorus out of Faust.”

“Parker made no comment. He stood in the doorway, trying to look as like a piece of furniture as possible—which is the duty of a good butler.” [Shades of Jeeves?]


At times, it’s easy to forget the era as the boys go about their studies and their cricketing, but the date becomes obvious when someone lights a candle at night, or when the boys duplicate the school rag via jellygraph. A reference to the “lamented Sherlock Holmes” makes the year even more apparent, as the fictional character was still dead in 1902, having apparently died in 1893’s  “The Final Problem,” and not to be resurrected until “The Adventure of the Empty House” in 1903.

In all, The Pothunters is on a whole different plane than Wodehouse’s later work. It’s clear that he was writing for a very specific audience (schoolboys) in a very specific time. While his later work very much has the feel of the era to it, the stories and the humor are timeless. For Wodehouse fans, it’s interesting to get a glimpse of the young writer before he perfected his craft. For those new to the author—well, your interest level might depend on your fondness for English public schools (and cricket).





Written for Friday's Forgotten Books. Pleas check out some of the other diverse entries.

Monday, September 29, 2014

The Free Bin: Silly Putty, Golden Girls, and Lowly Worm


I’m still in the midst of working on my film book, and I’m at the stage where I have enough content to start sending out sample chapters for my pitch. While my posts may have slacked off, I’m still collecting interesting links to share (and I have some reviews on the way—I swear!).

The title of this installment of The Free Bin may sound like it’s not focused on books, writing, and publishing, but that’s not the case, as you’ll find if you check out any of these links.

Silly Putty: print's latest victim? (Steve Berry/Creative Commons License)

  •  Sadie Stein at The Paris Review laments some of the smaller things we could lose along with newspapers. "What will people use to clean up after their dogs?" she asks. "Where will they get rubber bands? Will “train-style” folding become a lost art? And what about Silly Putty?" It's the latter that she focuses on for this piece, remembering the retro plaything that picked up newsprint. (I had great fun using it on the comics pages, then stretching the faces into mutant shapes.) 
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  • At Book Riot, Rita Meade has watched every single episode of The Golden Girls and noted the literary references. It's the sort of undertaking that defies logic, yet I'm glad someone did it. If you've ever wondered how often the ladies reference Shakespeare, now you'll know (it's more than you'd think). The citing of what's being referenced at the end of each entry sucks a little of the joy out of the list—especially because it's often obvious, and when it's not, it's neat to figure it out— but it's still a lot of fun. 
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  •  Can a book change a reader's life for the worse? In two well-written New York Times essays, Leslie Jamison and Francine Prose address the idea of books having a negative impact on someone's life.
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  • I don't cover a lot of children's books at Book Dirt, but my childhood self is thrilled that a lost Richard Scarry manuscript has just been published (by his son), and it concentrates on the best Scarry character ever: Lowly Worm. Any kid who cut his teeth on Scarry's picture books knows the worm, dressed in his weird sleeve of a suit and wearing one shoe. Picking him out of the heavily-illustrated pages was delightful. Details at NPR
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  •  Publishers Weekly has come up with a list of the top ten Patricia Highsmith books to coincide with the release of the film based on The Two Faces of January. Whether or not you agree with the ranking, it's nice to see some good Highsmith content (outside of the great stuff at Existential Ennui).
As always, if you've checked out any links, please weigh in and let me know what you thought.


Monday, August 18, 2014

The Free Bin: Cliffhangers, Notebook Hacks, and the Worst Possible Opening Lines

It’s been a busy week at Book Dirt HQ. If you don’t believe it, check out Film Dirt, the new sister blog to this one, which will feature research and stories related to lost films (the subject of the book at which I’ve been hammering away). Posts will still be aplenty here, such as last week’s posts on a rediscovered pulp novel how-to, and an analysis of the latest reason people are freaking out about a book cover. 

If you have a few more moments, have a cup of coffee and scrounge around in the Free Bin, where I've collected some of the best links I've found of late.


A Hamlet caricature, possibly by George Cruikshank. One of the thousands of images recently uploaded by the Folger Library.

  • The Folger Shakespeare Library (whose exhibit hall is always worth a visit in DC—they constantly rotate the displays) has released over 80,000 images into the digital commons. The collection includes not only Shakespearean material, but plenty of images related to history, art, and everyday life in the Renaissance.

  • The results of the 2014 Bulwer Lytton contest are in, and there are plenty of laughs among the winners, each of whom have outdone themselves in crafting the worst possible opening sentence. Some of the runner-ups are as good (or better) than the top picks, depending on your sense of humor. Example: "Cole kissed Anastasia, not in a lingering manner as a connoisseur might sip a glass of ‘82 La Pin, but open-mouthed and desperate, like a hobo wrapping his mouth around a bottle of Strawberry Ripple in the alley behind the 7-11."

  • The Interesting Adventures Of A Hackney Coach, (As Related By The Coachman). How It Happened That I Was Born. Nubilia In Search Of A Husband.The Three Perils Of Man, Or, War, Women, And Witchcraft. —Just a few of the fun titles on a list of 18th century novels compiled by The Toast. 

  • If you're a note-taker like I am (I'm never without one of my Moleskines), you might appreciate this notebook hack. It's a clever way to quickly find what you're looking for in a jumble of scrawled text. 


  • The New Yorker has a fantastic piece on the history of the cliffhanger, from Dickens to Mad Men, with stops along the way including Twin Peaks and the Perils of Pauline. Most exciting of all, though, is ... [tune in next week].


 

Friday, August 15, 2014

Book Review: Pulp Fiction by Robert Turner

This week’s forgotten book was almost truly forgotten. The fragile pamphlet on crumbling pulp stock was found in an old bookstore, rescued from obscurity, and is now available (for cheap) as an e-book. The pulp fiction how-to first came to my attention as one of blogger Randy Johnson’s entries into the Friday’s Forgotten Books event, and now it’s one of mine. After reading Pulp Fiction, I believe it deserves even more attention, especially from those interested in the age of pulps, whether as readers, writers, or both. 

Click to order Pulp Fiction—a penny cheaper than when it was published.

Robert Turner was a prolific writer for the pulps in the ‘40s and ‘50s, turning out stories for a list of magazines as long as your arm: Manhunt, Dime Detective, Thrilling Detective, Crack Detective and Detective Tales, for starters. He also wrote for dozens of romance and western pulp titles, comic books, and later, for slick publications like Playboy. He produced some stand-alone novels under his own name, and ghost-wrote some action series titles like those in the Shaft and Mafia series. Turner also worked as a Tv screenwriter, most notably for Mike Hammer.

The bottom line is, this guy could write. And he did. A lot. He was a real, working writer who produced more stuff in the ‘50s alone than a lot of writers will produce in their entire lifetimes. It stands to reason that he’s got a few things to say about the writing biz. He gives an insider’s view of the pulps that’s entertaining, readable, and surprisingly relevant to modern writers. The pulps may be gone, but the world could still use compelling writing. Turner also worked as an editor for a few titles, and his insight into the pulp slush pile is a nifty look into history.

Perhaps the best thing about Pulp Fiction is that Turner dispenses all of his writing advice with humor, style, and a lot of action. It’s easy to get a sense of why he could write a good story. I started off highlighting interesting lines as I went along, and ultimately abandoned the idea—because almost every line was interesting.

I’m sure you’ll find plenty of favorites of your own, but here are some of my favorite examples of Turner’s advice (and often: wit).

On technique:

“So I say, right here and now, phooey to technique, as such. Too much importance has been attached to the bare mechanics of story structure and not enough to injecting life and blood into a yarn and making it pure and simple entertainment.

On characterization:

“You don’t need a lot of fancy pyrotechnics to attract the editor’s attention to your characters. They don’t have to jump and stomp around, or blow bubble gum. Just make a character some poor slob, with troubles and emotions, even as you and I.”

On why you don’t need fancy words:

“If you have read a lot from the time you were a kid—and if you haven’t, chances are that you wouldn’t be interested in being a writer, anyhow—your vocabulary will see you through.”

On varying the action:

“Emotions harden. If you stay too long, fooling around with one particular emotion, or keep working on the same one in the same way, too many times, it will lose its effect. If you saw a child knocked down by a car every day for a long period, if this were a usual, ordinary occurrence, your emotions would become numbed; they would harden.”

On the typical advice to “make the dialogue advance the plot”:

“That is another nice, pat bit of instruction that is sometimes taken too literally. I am a bit leery of putting it to you so baldly. After a writer has had this tidbit of advice hurled at him, I’ve seen scripts written wherein every time a character opened his mouth, brother, does he advance that plot.”

As is the case with most books on writing, different bits will resonate with different writers. To those who simply read pulp stories, I think there’s still plenty here to like, especially for the price. It’s like peeking into the office of a pulp writer. Highly recommended.

***

Written as part of the Friday's Forgotten Books event.

In looking for information on Robert Turner, I found that there’s little online. If you know anything at all about the man, please share.


Wednesday, August 13, 2014

People Are Freaking Out About the New Cover of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

People are once again outraged over a book cover. (You might remember the kerfuffle over the romanticized cover of Flowers in the Attic or the chicklit-esque Bell Jar.)

This time it's Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that has readers reacting viscerally over graphic design. The new cover, part of the Penguin Modern Classics series, will debut for sale  in September.

Penguin Modern Classics edition of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Cue the outrage.


Following the cover reveal by Penguin, criticism began to appear swiftly on social media. To say people were appalled would be an understatement. The words "Lolita-esque" and "worst cover ever" appeared frequently. Many questioned how Penguin could do this to a beloved children's classic. Others offered their services to the graphics department, who clearly must not know what they're doing.

Typical responses. (I wonder if they're aware that Dahl wouldn't let the book be filmed again in his lifetime because he was upset that it had been made to seem too sweet?)


They're missing the point. A few of them, in fact. The first is: this cover design is not meant to be shelved in the children's section. It's meant to stand alongside other Penguin Modern Classics—and it's pretty cool that Dahl's book was chosen to be, according to Penguin's description of the line, one of "the most exciting, groundbreaking and inspiring works of the last 100 years."

I think the cover does a swell job of blending in with the others. (Here's a handy collage I've made so you can judge for yourself.)

Examples of the style of the Penguin Modern Classics series.


The other thing people seem to be overlooking is just how dark and strange Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is beneath the candy-coated surface. From the Dickensian-level poverty and hunger that open the book, to the profane and sadistic Wonka ("Burp, you silly ass, burp"), it challenges traditonal children's lit in every way. As the story progresses, nasty children (the products of even nastier parents) are dispatched in creatively fiendish ways befitting a horror villain.

Part of the charm of Dahl is how he imbues the ordinary with a creepy magic. Even breakfast: "Whipped cream isn't whipped cream at all if it hasn't been whipped with whips, just like poached eggs isn't poached eggs unless it's been stolen in the dead of night."


And don't forget that Charlie and the Chocolate Factory has been sanitized. The original publication had the black-skinned Oompa Loompas hailing "from the very deepest and darkest part of the jungle where no white man had ever been before." The original descriptions were changed decades ago, along with the illustrations that depicted them as Pygmy jungle savages.

The reaction people are having to this cover tells me that Penguin has done its job. "Who would tart up a child like that?" is what some are asking, and the answer is: people like Veruca Salt's parents. The reaction we're seeing is the reaction Dahl wanted to evoke with his awful children and their self-absorbed families. They should horrify people.

Penguin has defended the cover, as it should. I hope it sells well to people who still buy and read classics. And to those who like their fiction a little on the depraved side, well, this edition will fit nicely with Dahl's adult titles like Switch Bitch and My Uncle Oswald.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0083P1QO8/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B0083P1QO8&linkCode=as2&tag=boodir-20&linkId=AZR43ZHP2ATLZTLZ
Distinctly adult titles by Roald Dahl. (Click photos for more info.)


For more on outrage over book covers:

People Are Freaking Out About the New Cover of The Bell Jar

People Are Freaking Out About the New Cover of Flowers in the Attic  

People Are Freaking Out About Morrissey's Autobiography Being a Penguin Classic



What do you think? Weigh in below. 


Monday, August 11, 2014

The Free Bin: Lawrence Block, Hotel Libraries, and Book Dirt’s New Companion Blog

  • I can’t help but be biased: the biggest news in this round-up is the launch of Film Dirt, a Book Dirt spin-off where I’ll be sharing some of my research on lost films, plus reviews and articles on silent film—plus a few modern obscurities. While I’ve reprinted some film-related Book Dirt content to get the site started, new articles will debut this week, so bookmark or subscribe to be among my first readers. (You can also find additional content on the Facebook page.)


  • NPR talked to Lawrence Block while walking around New York City. You can read the article, but you’re missing out if you don’t listen to the audio version—not just to hear the man himself, but the sounds of the city that Block credits with writing his first Matthew Scudder novel. You read that right: “The town was writing that book," Block says. "The hideous crime that Scudder talked about on the next day's writing was the one I read about on the subway downtown. And, you know, the city never failed me. It always provided something."

  • During my Ireland trip last year, I was pleased to find one of my hotel room stuffed with books. I can hardly imagine how I’d react to find an entire library. Huffington Post has collected a list of hotels with interesting libraries that would make any traveler leave the Kindle at home. Don’t miss the photo of the thatched-roof reading room in Curacao. 

  • In the wake of the release of Dave Egger’s newest novel, written in all dialogue, The Rumpus takes a look at other all-dialogue novels—plus some dialogue-heavy books like The Friends of Eddie Coyle. 

  • The Guardian has a list of what they’re calling “The weirdest Frankenstein books ever.” While some are more experimental and/or literary than flat-out weird, it would be hard to disagree with the strangeness of a book deemed a cross between Frankenstein and Field of Dreams.


If you enjoyed any of these links, do let me know. Heck, if you thought they were dumb, I’d still be interested to hear about it. Let me know why, and we can bicker.