Son of Gun in Cheek: An Affectionate Guide to More of the "Worst" in Mystery Fiction - Softcover

Pronzini, Bill

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0486817989 ISBN 13: 9780486817989

Verlag: Dover Publications Inc., 2018

Inhaltsangabe

"I could hardly wait to begin the investigation. Somehow, I firmly believed that (at last!) we were following a course that would clearly reveal &; something!" &; from The Stingaree Murders
"The [police] men saluted in the darkness and stole away with furtive tread. They knew the anticlimax was at hand, and their satisfaction was unbounded." &; from The Merrivale Mystery
"It beats the devil. It's diabolical. It's fiendish. It's just not right." &; from The Palgrave Mummy
A humorous and good-natured study of alternative crime fiction, the Edgar Award-nominated Gun in Cheek celebrated the neglected classics of substandard mystery writing. After years of additional research into comically awful literature, author Bill Pronzini returns with Son of Gun in Cheek, a compendium of even more twisted treasures for connoisseurs of hideous prose. Pronzini's lively commentary offers background on each of the stories he cites, providing an informative survey of the genre and its writers, crowned with hilarious excerpts. His lighthearted look at the best of the worst in crime fiction will amuse not only mystery buffs but also anyone with a taste for ham-handed drama.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

American author and anthologist Bill Pronzini has written scores of short stories and novels, including Snowbound, which was awarded the Grand Prix de la Littérature Policière as France's best crime novel of 1988. His numerous other honors include the "Grand Master" designation from the Mystery Writers of America; six Edgar nominations; and three Shamus awards.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Son of Gun in Cheek

An Affectionate Guide to More of the "Worst" in Mystery Fiction

By Bill Pronzini

Dover Publications, Inc.

Copyright © 1987 Pronzini-Muller Family Trust
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-486-81798-9

Contents

Modus Operandi, 1, 
1 The Alternative Hall Of Fame, Part I; Or, "Justice Isn't Functioning Very Shipshape", 4, 
2 Of Talking Skeletons, Noseless Monsters, And Boomalacka Browne, 29, 
3 Gold Is Where You Find It, 52, 
4 The Amazing Adventures Of The Kracked King of Keelerland, 65, 
5 The Shame Of Black Mask, And Other Pulp Paydirt, 84, 
6 "Loaded To The Gunwale With Superpowered Quake-Stuff To Make Your Withers Quiver", 104, 
7 Sex, Sex, And More Sex!, 114, 
8 Big Brother Is Watching, 136, 
9 Confessions Of A B-Movie Junkie, 148, 
10 Titles, Anyone?, 163, 
11 Hail To The Chief!, 169, 
12 The Alternative Hall Of Fame, Part II; Or, "Inspiration Splattered Me In the Face Like A Custard Pie" Post-Mortem, 212, 
Bibliography, 214, 
Index, 222, 

CHAPTER 1

The Alternative Hall Of Fame, Part I; Or, "Justice Isn't Functioning Very Shipshape"

The air was surcharged with an invisible something which seemed to surround the house. Even that phlegmatic, nerve-proof group were not immune to the tuning in of the premonitory cross-currents.

— Florence M. Pettee,

The Palgrave Mummy,1929 There was no activity about any of the dozen outbuildings which hovered at a respectful distance from the big house.

— Martin J. Freeman,

The Scarf on the Scarecrow,1938

In crime fiction, as in all other areas of literature, there are great bad novels as well as great good novels. It may be the machinations (not to mention loose ends) of its plot that elevates a particular book to classic status. Or it may be the author's eloquence of style, the manner in which he or she turns a phrase (or stands one on its head), unleashes a runaway metaphor, or demonstrates an especially tinny ear for dialogue. Or it may be a combination of these and other elements. The important fact is that everything has come together — a perfect chemical balance — to produce a work of true genius.

Genius, as we all know, is a rare commodity in literature and therefore should not go unrecognized or unappreciated. That is why I have established an Alternative Hall of Fame for those novels whose brilliance, as one of their authors might say, shines like a balefire in the dark forest of mediocre mystery, dull deduction, and static suspense.

Early inductees into the Alternative Hall of Fame were discussed at some length in Gun in Cheek — such heroic efforts as Michael Morgan's Decoy, Eric Heath's Murder of a Mystery Writer, Milton M. Raison's Murder in a Lighter Vein, Sydney Horler's Dark Danger, James O'Hanlon's Murder at Horsethief, and Mary Roberts Rinehart's and Avery Hopwood's The Bat. A number of others have come to light since; those published between 1910 and 1940 will be inducted in this chapter, and those published between 1945 and 1985 will have their moment of glory in Chapter 12. Certain additional titles by Michael Avallone, Harry Stephen Keeler, and Anthony M. Rud, among others, will be inducted along the way.

The Mummy Moves, Mary Gaunt (1910)

The Mummy Moves is one of those rare published novels that reads as if it had been composed by (1) a functional illiterate; (2) a poorly programmed computer; or (3) a reasonably intelligent chimpanzee. Sentences do not make sense. Paragraphs do not make sense. Whole pages of narrative and dialogue do not make sense. The amazing thing is not that the book was written, but that it was published twice in the English language (originally in England by T. Werner Laurie, and here in 1925 by E. J. Clode) with no editorial guidance and no attempt to correct and/or make uniform such minor matters as grammar, syntax, and punctuation.

Mary Gaunt does appear to have been a human being, at least, and a British subject at that. Perhaps she was bom somewhere other than in England or one of its colonies; that would explain why her prose reads as though English were a third or fourth language. The redoubtable Mrs. Gaunt (she had three names, the middle one being Bakewell, so one assumes she was married) published a minimum of one other novel, a nonmystery entitled The Uncounted Cost. If this novel is of the same chimplike virtuosity of The Mummy Moves, I would dearly love to read and attempt to decipher it.

Behold Mary Gaunt:

The girl's voice rose to a scream, and Langlands caught the detective's smile at feminine credulity, but bending forward he looked closely, and he saw that not only had the girl spoken the truth, the shrivelled bony talon-like hand of the mummy was covered with blood, but also inside the case was a handle as if the occupant were indeed living flesh and blood, and might perchance wish to let herself out, and this handle was stained and smeared with blood as if those fleshless hands had grasped it and left their impress there.

"[The room to let] isn't for us," said Dolson glibly. "A most respectable young man, a native of India, his father's in the fruit trade, and he's thinking of going for a waiter to learn languages, is coming to me, and I want to get him some place respectable, where he won't be too lonely, a poor lone man, you know, madam, is as bad as a poor lone woman, especially when he's but a boy."

Miss Morton was clutching the table cloth, the colour had gone from her face, and in spite of himself he wanted to help her, "but it was from West Africa that most of his specimens came," he said turning the conversation, and he saw with pleasure that she sighed a sigh of evident relief and a little colour crept back into her cheeks.

"Tut, tut, it is very trying, very trying indeed," he said looking up sympathetically. "You are over-wrought. I get my brain over-wrought sometimes labouring at a plot that will not evolve itself as it ought [the speaker is a writer], and I doubt not Mr. Langlands does often. There is nothing for but rest, perfect rest. I should advise you to go home and take some of nature's sweet restorer, though it is so early, balmy sleep."

The staring eyes were wide open, the jaw had fallen, and pillow sheets and pyjamas were soaked in blood, and at his throat, the two women and Fabian Eastman shrank back, and Langlands, bending over, felt impelled to do likewise, for the collar of the pyjama coat was unbuttoned and the manner of death was plain to see.

"Hold hard," said Eastman taking the dagger from Langlands; "why, that belongs to me. Now it's no good you're protesting," he turned on the Hindoo, who was doing nothing of the sort, "that knife is unique. It comes from West Africa. My uncle," he turned to Langlands, "told me there wasn't another to match it in the world. "

"I positively assuring you most honourable gentlemen," said the Hindoo holding out his hand, "it is the capture of my bow and spear, it is the purchased of my shekels."

Christabel looked frightened. "It isn't canny," she said.

"Well, the party is slow no longer," said Virginia with a sigh of satisfaction.

"There's that beggar again, Emily. Sing, he can't sing for nuts, as my poor husband used to say. Here, take him out this penny, and tell him to go away at once."

"Kiss me strite on the brow and part," wailed the mournful wreck in the street,...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Dover Publications Inc.
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2018
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0486817989
• ISBN 13: 9780486817989
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 240
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Soc. Agr. La Raia Ss; http://www.la-raia.it; ; Strada Monterotondo, 79; Novi Ligure; 15067; Italien