IOL: Dunst vetos 'gigantic' boobs: "Dunst vetos 'gigantic' boobs"

Talk about integrity! What more can I say?

: RevolutionSF - Spider-Man 2 : Review: "Even with the movie's flaws (such as Kirsten Dunst's clunky acting and some of the inane dialog), Spider-Man ranks as one of the top two or three comic book films of all time. "

Rick Klaw's review of SPIDERMAN 2 is mostly on target. As to his remark about Kirsten Dunst, I have this response: "And your point is?"

Judy and I saw the movie yesterday, and I thought it was terrific. My only complaint is that it wasn't rated "R." So the theater was full of little kids who had no clue as to what was going on and spent the entire time running up and down the aisle, except for the one who was rolling down the aisle. He ran up it, though. Little wuss wasn't tough enough to roll up it, I guess. It's a good thing I'm not issued a sidearm.

And I know I'm not supposed to think about stuff like this, but when Doc Ock is building his tritium fusion generator in his secret undisclosed location, wouldn't someboy notice he was stealing a million mega-gigawatts of power? I know he robbed a bank to get money to fund his fiendish endeavors. And of course Peter Parker and Aunt May just happened to be in there when he did. Out of all the banks in New York City, he had to walk into that one. But I digress. My question is, where did he buy the equipment to build it with? I mean, even the clerks at Radio Shack might be a little suspicious of him. Sure, he had on those sunglasses. Maybe that threw them off. And he probably wore a raincoat, but in that disguise he'd make the Hunchback of Notre Dame look like a male model.

Yesterday I read MY FLESH IS SWEET (Lion, 1951) by Day Keene.   Maybe not one of Keene's best, but certainly not without interest.  For one thing, the main character is a pulp writer named Ad Connors.   Connors has been in Mexico writing his "breakthrough" book, and he's just found out that the SATURDAY EVENING POST has rejected it.  He's on his way to hock his typewriter for money to get home when he witnesses an auto accident.  One of the drivers is a beautiful American woman who can't speak Spanish.  Connors, however, is fluent, and so he steps in.  And once he does, we're off to the races: a lecherous Mexican general, a mysterious veiled women, a murdered Mexican lawyer, another murder buried 20 years in the past, and more.
 
Connors manages to get in a number of comments about the life of a pulp writer along the way, and in fact he has to write two 15,000 word stories in order to get enough money to get out of Mexico.  But when he escapes the country, he finds  his troubles are just beginning.   His agent sells the novel that the POST rejected to a hardcover publisher for big bucks, but Connors is now wanted for murder in Mexico.  To clear himself, he has to find the beautiful woman again.  Which is plenty complicated, since she's about to marry a millionaire and doesn't want to see Connors.  And then there's another murder.
 
Keene, like another of my favorites, Harry Whittington, wrote a lot of books.   Like Whittington, he wrote fast, and he worked cheap, for just about any publisher that would have him.  And like Whittington, his books rarely disappoint me.  They might not be great literature, but they're entertaining, fast moving, and fun.

Now that a request has poured in, I'm posting the subscription information for Steve Lewis's great print fanzine, MYSTERY*FILE.  It's published approximately every six weeks, and single issues can be had for $3.50.  A four-issue subscription is $13.00.  and well worth it, too, if you ask me.  Send your dough to Steve at 62 Chestnut Rd., Newington, CT  06111.
 
The current issue has a letter column, lots of reviews of mystery novels both old and new by people like Vince Keenan, Dan Stumpf, Walter Albert, Bob Briney, Gary Warren Neibuhr, Richard Moore, and many more.  Articles by Bill Pronzini (on Gardner), Marv Lachman, Bob Adey, Ed Lynskey, and others.   Try it.  You'll like it.

For a while now, I've been writing columns on Gold Medal Books for Steve Lewis's MYSTERY*FILE. I've done articles on Day Keene, Clifton Adams, Malcolm Douglas, and John McPartland. The one I've just turned in is on John Farris, who wrote for Gold Medal as "Steve Brackeen."

I've been interested in Farris almost as long as I've been interested in being a writer, having read HARRISON HIGH way back in 1950. I was really impressed that a guy not much older than I was had written a bestselling novel, and one that I really liked. (I read it again a couple of years ago, the same old Dell paperback first printing, and I still liked it.) If I'd known that Farris was writing cime novels under a pen name at the same time, I'd have been even more impressed, if that's possible.

I wasn't doing any writing in those days except for a little adolescent poetry. I never really dreamed I could actually write a book, which seems kind of silly now that I've published so many of them (though there are no doubt those who would argue that that still hasn't proved I can write one). It took me almost twenty more years to get really serious about writing, though there were a few attempts in the interim (see earlier posts for a few words on a couple of them). And then I did it only because Jack Davis talked me into collaborating on a Nick Carter book with him. Jack's been dead a good while now, but I still owe him. I'm pretty sure I'd never have published a book without his goading me into it.

Last night Judy and I went to the Houston Museum of Natural Science to hear a lecture by Dr. John W. Verano from Tulane. His topic was Machu Picchu, and we'd been led to expect that he'd be talking about the site, who built it, and what its purpose was. Which he did. But his perspective was different from what we'd expected. Dr. Verano, it turns out, is a forensic anthropologist, or, as he put it, "a bone man." He was called in by Yale University to examine the skeletons found by Hiram Bingham on his 1911 expedition. The skeletons were examined at that time, but no one had looked at them since. Dr. Verano's conclusions about them differed a little from the original ideas.

For one thing, the original examiner (I've forgotten his name, I'm sorry to say) concluded that the skeletons were mostly female (more than 75%). Dr. Verano says that it's more like 50/50. Why is that important? Because one of Bingham's main ideas about Machu Picchu is that the site was a holy place for the "virgins of the sun." The large number of female skeletons would support that idea. Verano doesn't agree. Also Verano pointed out that there are a number of skeletons of small children. These were explained away by earlier theorists as "accidents." Verano doesn't agree there, either. The skeletons also indicate a wide variety of ethnicity in Machu Picchu.

So what's Verano's conclusion? That Machu Picchu was another in a series of royal palaces or resorts built by the emperor Pachacuti. The skeletons are the remains of the servants and workers who kept up the resort. Sounds pretty reasonable when Verano goes over it. Sure, there were altars and other sacred places at Machu Picchu. The emperor was believed to be the "son of the sun." So naturally he would have kept up appearances. But worship wasn't the main purpose of the site.

Verano also pointed out a number of other interesting things he'd learned. For one, there was tuberculosis in Machu Picchu. But no syphillis. Tooth decay was rampant and somtimes even fatal.

All in all, a very interesting evening.

Yesterday's mail brought me a copy of a new Stark House double volume. This one reprints two of Vin Packer's Gold Medal novels, SOMETHING IN THE SHADOWS and INTIMATE VICTIMS. It's a nice package, and one I highly recommend. Packer (whose real name is Marijane Meaker) was one of the few women writing paperback originals in the 1950s, and she was right up there with the best. Anthony Boucher consistently praised her books in his NYTBR column, and with good reason.

Besides the two novels, this new volume has a short introduction by Packer that touches on her relationship with Patricia Highsmith and tells a little about the envy Highsmith had of Packer's income and reviews. Packer, the lowly paperback writer, was making a lot more money for her novels than Highsmith was with her prestigious hardcovers. And Packer was getting reviews in the New York papers just as Highsmith was. Highsmith didn't think it was fair for a paperback writer to get the same kind of attention that a hardcover author received.

There's also a reprint of Jon Breen's essay titled "The Novels of Vin Packer," also highly recommended reading.

Lately I've been browsing the capsule movie summaries in Arthur Lyons' book called DEATH ON THE CHEAP: THE LOST B-MOVIES OF FILM NOIR, and I find them highly entertaining.

But here's something that's really bothering me. It has nothing to do with the movies or the book itself. It's a sentence in the blurb from Robert Crais in the front of the book. Here it is: "Written with the sure hand of a gifted novelist, Arthur Lyons has opened an entertaining treasure chest that will have you racing to your local video rental joint." As a former English teacher, all I can say is, "Arrrgggghhhh!" And to think that Crais out-sells me about a million to one.

Since I'm far from a film noir geek, or even a film geek of any kind, I don't have too many nits to pick with Lyons himself. However (you knew there was going to be a "however," right?) there's this on page 122 in Lyons' comment on THE MYSTERIOUS MR. VALENTINE (1946): "This film was a new kind of role for Linda Stirling, who up to this time had spend most of her time at Republic dressed in a leopard cat suit and beating up bad guys in THE TIGER WOMAN serials (sic). Tristram Coffin, in contrast, was right at home, having been a staple minor villain in many a Republic feature. In 1951, he finally got a taste of what it was to play a good guy when he starred as Commando Cody in LOST PLANET AIRMEN, Republic's feature release of its serial KING OF THE ROCKETMEN."

As I said, I'm no expert, but this wrong on so many levels.

As far as I know, for example, there was only one TIGER WOMAN serial (Lyons is right about the leopard costume, though. Why they didn't call her the Leopard Woman is a still-unanswered question.) She certainly hadn't spent all her time at Republic in that one serial, either. How can one forget her sparkling performance in another serial, ZORRO'S BLACK WHIP? (Alas, I'm pretty sure it wasn't Linda wielding the whip in several scenes, which sort of takes away the fun of it if you know what I mean, and I think you do.) Or THE PURPLE MONSTER STRIKES, for that matter?

And if Tristam Coffin played Commando Cody in the feature release of KING OF THE ROCKETMEN, wouldn't he have played good-guy Cody in the serial itself? (You'd think so.) But wait. Since the title of the serial is KING OF THE ROCKETMEN, wouldn't Coffin have played a guy named "King"? (Darned right. Jeff King.) And wasn't Commando Cody in a completely different serial? (Darned right: RADAR MEN FROM THE MOON. He was played by George Wallace [not the Governor of Alabama]. And by some other guy in COMMANDO CODY: SKY MARSHAL OF THE UNIVERSE.)

Sort of makes a fella wonder about the rest of Lyons' commentary.

OK, so I have this eBay habit. Or addiction. Whatever. Anyway, not long ago I bought six or eight men's sweat magazines from the late 1950s. Issues of CAVALCADE and SIR! There were lots of others on the market in those days, too: REAL MAN, TRUE MEN, MAN'S ADVENTURES, and on and on. They must have sold hundreds of thousands of copies a month. Sure, they had photos of scantily clad women, but the pictures aren't all that revealing, and they're of pretty low quality. (I mean the pictures, not the subjects, though come to think of it, the subjects aren't exactly Grade A, either.)

So my conclusion is that guys actually read these things. The articles in the ones I bought are typical: "I Was a White Slaver!,"The Brute Who Turned Bordello Boss," "The Lonely Women of Lesbos Isle." You get the idea. There was fiction, too, by guys like Mickey Spillane and Bob McKnight, along with some reprints from, of all things, WEIRD TALES, by Henry Kuttner and Manley Wade Wellman. The stories and articles aren't short, and the print is small. The paragraphs are long. But, as I said, guys read these things, or at least bought a ton of them.

When I started writing in 1981, there were still lots of books for guys. I broke in with a Nick Carter novel myself, and later I had a hand in series like THE M.I.A. HUNTER, THE TUNNEL RATS, and CODY'S ARMY. These were the tail-end of a huge boom in men's series books that started with Don Pendleton's THE EXECUTIONER. Like I said, books for guys. The Executioner and the Destroyer are still around, along with a couple of others, but the rest are long gone.

"So what?" you're probably saying. Well, I read the other day that in 2002, only 38% of American men read a book. Even one book. (And I'm guessing that one was by either Tom Clancy or John Grisham.) What that says to me is that guys don't read any more, which explains why there aren't any magazines like SIR! around these days. And why The Assassan and The Coxeman and The Sharpshooter and dozens of others have disappeared.

My theory is that guys watch videos now, but what do I know? I wish they'd all start reading books again.

Yesterday I read Robert B. Parker's latest Spenser novel, BAD BUSINESS. It's got all the usual elements. Spenser is hired, and someone gets killed. Bad guys come to Spenser's office to threaten him, and Spenser says, "Eeek!" Women melt when Spenser unleashes his killer smile. Spencer and Hawk shuck and jive. Spenser cooks. Spenser drinks beer. Spenser and Susan talk about sex. Spenser and Susan have sex (but not in front of Pearl the Wonderdog). Spenser is insolent to people in positions of power. Spenser cracks wise. Women come on to Spenser, but he rebuffs them because of his love for Susan. Spenser proves he's tougher than anybody (except Hawk, of course).

I've seen it all before, but, God help me, I enjoyed the heck out of it. I know that most people seem to think that Parker long ago achieved the alchemical miracle of turning his gold into lead, after which he sank below their notice. I, on the other hand, still look for every book of his as it appears. Which no doubt proves that I have poor, or to put the best face possible on it, indiscriminate taste.

I read an interview once in which Parker was asked what made his books so popular. He said, "I think people like the sound of the words on the page." Works for me.

Yesterday I mentioned THE DOMINIO PRINCIPLE, and last night I finished reading it. I thought it was good when I first read it nearly 30 years ago, and I still think so. A dandy paranoid thriller. It's written in very short chapters (a techinque now used by big-time bestsellering writers like Dan Brown and James Patterson). The pacing is fast, and the writing is smooth (much better than either Brown's or Patterson's). It's also got strong tinges of noir, what with the narrator's pretty much hopeless situation and the idea that he's at the mercy of forces he can't really control. (Noir and literary naturalism, a dissertation topic if there ever was one.)

I seem to remember reading a sequel to this book and thinking that it bit the moose.

(And if I thought Blogger was nutty yesterday and the day before, it was just getting warmed up. I have no idea if this post will appear on the blog or not.)

Yesterday I mentioned THE DOMINIO PRINCIPLE, and last night I finished reading it. I thought it was good when I first read it nearly 30 years ago, and I still think so. A dandy paranoid thriller. It's written in very short chapters (a techinque now used by big-time bestsellering writers like Dan Brown and James Patterson). The pacing is fast, and the writing is smooth (much better than either Brown's or Patterson's). It's also got strong tinges of noir, what with the narrator's pretty much hopeless situation and the idea that he's at the mercy of forces he can't really control. (Noir and literary naturalism, a dissertation topic if there ever was one.)

I seem to remember reading a sequel to this book and thinking that it bit the moose.

Blogger is again trying to confuse me. Or frustrate me. Or both. I posted earlier today, but the post hasn't shown up yet. I've noticed that several other bloggers are having the same problem, and I'm glad to know it's not just me.

I've been re-reading Adam Kennedy's THE DOMINO PRINCIPLE. I read it back when it appeared in paperback for the first time, around 1976, and thought it was great. I'm about halfway through, and it holds up very well. Oddly enough, as much as I enjoyed the book, I never saw the movie version, which has a great cast, including Gene Hackman and Richard Widmark. Maybe it got bad reviews.

OK, now the earlier post is there where it belongs. I have no idea what's going on.

Ed's Place: "ABOUT ROBERT SILVERBERG by Ed Gorman"

This is getting spooky. I'm beginning to think Ed Gorman is me, what with the things he's writing about writers I admire. I started reading Robert Silverberg at the same time Ed did, and in the same magazines, and there's at least one of his stories from those early SF digests that I've never forgotten. I can still quote the whole story nearly word for word. It might not be literature, but it sure did work for me. The funny thing is, I can't remember the title. Even the novels that Ed mentions are the very ones I'd name if asked for my favorites by Silverberg. And some of those Calvin M. Knox titles were wonderful. LEST WE FORGET THEE, EARTH is one that comes to mind. Now I'm going to have to dig through some of my old copies of SCIENCE FICTION ADVENTURES and do some reading.

Blogger has been really blinky the last couple of days. But I'll try this and see if it gets posted.

I was thinking the other day about the way I connected with music when I was a lot younger than I am now. Or maybe it was the way music connected with me. Here's just one example of what I mean: I can remember vividly the first time I heard Robin Luke's "Susie Darlin'" on the radio. I was with Margaret Stubbs in her '54 Pontiac. It was night, and we were driving down Titus Street in Mexia, Texas. I remember the exact block. I can't rememeber the radio station, but it was a distant one, not coming in too well. I made Margaret stop the car right there in the street while I listened to the song, and as soon as I could buy the 45, I did. (And, yes, I still have it. It's in a box in the closet, along with all my other 45s.) Do kids still connect with music that way? I can't imagine anybody having that reaction to a rap number, but then I'm a hopeless old poop and what do I know? What always grabbed me was melody and harmony and sheer pop exuberance. In fact, they still do.

This 4th of July weekend I drove around what's left of the downtown area of my old hometown of Mexia, Texas. The old depot is long gone because the city council refused to give Southern Pacific a tax break on the empty building. So S. P. just bulldozed it. The theater where I saw Roy and Gene and Allan "Rocky" Lane on Saturday afternoons is now just one more vacant building among many, and the last picture show at the "new" Mexia Theater (built around 1952 or '53) was shown a long time ago. That theater's still there, though. It's a church. I kind of like that.

Many of the old buildings have literally fallen down because of lack of maintenance. The rubble has been cleared away, so there's a lot of bare concrete. A bbq restaurant and a doctor's office were built on one block after the old buildings were removed. Both lasted about a year before closing for good.

What's sad to me about all this is that I remember all too well going downtown on Saturday afternoons when the streets were nearly as crowded with people, shoulder to shoulder. No vacant parking spaces. (The street preacher who set up with an amplifier on the hood of his old Ford had to get there at 7:00 in the morning to get his spot.) Two movie theaters (the Palace, where they showed the cowboy movies, and the National, where the classier flicks played; I hardly ever went to the National). Four drug stores. A bookstore where I bought copies of Amazing and Fantastic and Astounding, not to mention paperback books galore. Three five and dime stores. Two hardware stores. Two barbershops. A shoe store. Three or four clothing stores. And so on. Gone now, every one.

And probably nobody out at the Super Wal-Mart either remembers or cares. Dang, but I feel old.

Ed's Place: "Ed here: Speaking of Samuel R. Delaney"

Once again, Ed expresses my own feelings better than I could. This is getting scary. Anyway, I still remember the excitement of reading THE ENISTEIN INTERSECTION and other early Delaney books for the first time. But I could never get through DHALGREN, although I understand others consider it a great work of the imagination. I tried twice. I figure that's enough.

So why isn't AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS a hit?

That's the question I found myself asking after leaving the theater yesterday. I thought it was a terrific comedy/adventure movie. It was fast, it was funny, it had Jackie Chan's martial arts, and Cecile de France is the kind of woman anybody would want to travel around the world with. And some of the cameos are very amusing, especially the one by Arnold Schwarzenegger. Even his wig is funny. Owen and Luke Wilson play the Wright Brothers as surfer dudes (and in the middle of a desert). There's a Chinese villain named Fang, a direct descendant of Sumuru. What's not to like? If you want to avoid the crowds at SPIDERMAN 2, give AROUND THE WORLD a try.

I just read that Marlon Brando died.

When he was young, he was one good-looking dude. A hunk. Check out THE MEN if you don't believe me. And of course my generation will always remember THE WILD ONE and A STREET CAR NAMED DESIRE and ON THE WATERFRONT.

A little later there was ONE-EYED JACKS, after which we all went around calling each other "scum-sucking pigs."

Much later on I really enjoyed his work in THE FRESHMAN (in which he did a parody of his GODFATHER role) and DON JUAN DE MARCO.

He was apparently a rotten human being, but then who among us is going to cast that first stone? Not me. He left some great movies behind.

Ed's Place: "
Ed here: ABOUT STUART WOODS"

Ed Gorman has nailed Stuart Woods perfectly. He's said exactly what I think about Woods' books, but he's said it better than I could. I finally quit reading the Stone Barrington books a couple of years ago. Judy still reads them, but she's about ready to throw in the towel. The reason that both of us kept reading them for so long is that they were like potato chips. We knew they weren't good for us, but we gobbled them down because, even though they weren't nourishing, they gave us a quick fix.