Bronson Blind Rage (Philip Rawls) Review

Rating 4 Stars

Bronson: Blind Rage is an incredibly vicious tale from 1975 of a man who is out for revenge, but very, very quickly reveals himself to the reader as a cold-blooded sociopath. The name of the titular character and the cover illustration were obviously inspired by Charles Bronson in Death Wish, though that was clearly just a marketing gimmick. This book makes that classic revenge movie seem like family entertainment and is amongst the nastiest few novels that I've ever read.

The highly detailed and incredibly gory violence at times reminded me of American Psycho, though where that book was satirical (and hard for me to ever take seriously), Bronson: Blind Rage is an immoral, hateful, brutal tale of godless seventies nihilism. On a related note, Philip Rawls is a pseudonym, and the real author of this work is currently unknown. There are many, many passages in this thing that might be the reason why nobody has owned up to writing this book (unlike the latter Bronson books, the authors of which are known).

Certainly, a lot of readers will have zero sympathy for this particular Bronson once he show himself, even despite his troubled past. If you want to root for a likable, sympathetic protagonist who is balancing the scale of justice, look elsewhere. This Bronson is a guy with a disorder who should be witnessed from a safe distance during his "quest for justice" (aka psychotic manifestations). At time overly dense, this ugly book is a tour through a sleazy, ruined society and has a disenfranchised, polemic quality, which brings to might the least pleasant aspects of Martin Scorsese's masterpiece,Taxi Driver (which this book predates).

Bronson: Blind Rage is a dense hunk of very uncomfortable reading and a top example of seventies nihilism at its least apologetic.

Blood for Breakfast (Dean Ballenger) Review

Rating 4 Stars

"Hardboiled" means different things to different folks in relation to crime fiction.
Sometimes the term is used interchangeably with words like “noir” and “violent,” though I usually think of hardboiled as meaning “cold-blooded” or “merciless,” especially with regards to the behavior of the protagonist.

David Goodis is a top favorite crime writer of mine, but I wouldn’t classify him as a hardboiled writer, since his novels are typically about wounded people crippled by their emotions or history or both. Even in those murky depths, there is humanity. Mickey Spillane is probably classified as a hardboiled writer by most people, but the book of his that I read (I, the Jury), I thought was jokey and far too focused on its nonsensical plot and boob similes to feel “hardboiled” rather than just farcical. The Woman Chaser (Willeford), The Postman Always Rings Twice (Cain), Pop 1280 (Thompson), The Friends of Eddie Coyle (Higgins), and the Ed Race stories of Carroll John Daly are top-notch hardboiled works in my estimation.

Nastier, far less politically correct, and harder boiled than all of the aforementioned works is Blood for Breakfast, by Dean Ballenger, the first Gannon novel. The prose here is an aggressive and jargon-laden iteration of Carroll John Daly’s voice (whose style I prefer over his more famous contemporary, Raymond Chandler), and the savage events bring to mind Death Wish and Mad Max (the original) as realized by Richard Laymon and Sam Peckinpah. There is not a single wasted sentence in this well-crafted book, which drives mercilessly from violent confrontation to violent confrontation with sporadic sex breaks. This could get repetitive, but doesn’t, largely because of the hook of the catalytic event (a very ugly rape), the author’s creative jargon, and the continual plot turns. The end result is a relentless, focused and very brutal crime / men’s adventure tale that has a strong focus on class warfare.

Breakfast for Blood is a lyrical, odious, and playful book that is recommended to anybody who thinks that those three adjectives belong in the same sentence.

The Monocled Monster (Harry Stephen Keeler) Review

Rating 4 Stars 

This is the third Harry Stephen Keeler novel that I've read. Providence (and the Internet) chose this less discussed work as my Keeler No. 3, since I am interested in reading the original first printings whenever possible.

Brain surgery is the catalytic event in this story of a recovering amnesiac in alternate post-World War II Chicago.

I fully enjoyed this novel, though not quite as much as 'The Riddle of the Traveling Skull' and 'The Case of the Two Strange Ladies.' All of these books have far more explained back story than actively experienced events, but the ratio of exposition to incident in 'The Monocled Monster' seemed like something along the lines of 15 to 1. Additionally, the conveyed expositions are a bit too repetitive, which makes the book feel occasionally as if it is stalling (or padded). The plotting is loaded with surprises, and Keeler uses a surfeit of magnificent coincidences to shape the narrative. Ultimately, his mission is accomplished: I was keenly interested to the very last page.

One could argue that Keeler pranks his reader in many (or perhaps all) of his books, yet in The Monocled Monster—because of the lack of current incidents and the less engaging personalities of the characters—I was continually aware of the author's machinations rather than carried through the story by a strong emotional investment in the protagonist. (This criticism I could also level at two of my other favorite authors, H.P. Lovecraft and Clark Ashton Smith.) Intellectual curiosity and marveling at the wild mind of Keeler were what compelled me onward more than any direct attachment to the drama.

Nonetheless, the stunning twists, the clever narrative hoaxes, the acrobatic sentences describing the world (especially its inhabitants and furnishings), and the many musings on brain surgery (and the publishing industry) make the 'The Monocled Monster' a playful and intellectually stimulating experience.

Not long after completing this book, I joined the Harry Stephen Keeler Society.

The Case of the Two Strange Ladies (Harry Stephen Keeler) Review

Rating 5 Stars

Has a plot twist in a book ever caused you to exclaim aloud? Not until reading 'The Case of the Two Strange Ladies' was my answer to that question, "Yes."

This book was my second Harry Stephen Keeler novel (following the masterful 'The Riddle of the Traveling Skull'), and it was an incredibly enjoyable read that served as more evidence of this gifted Chicago author's many talents. This story concerns Tommy Skirmont, a Yankee reporter in the South, whose tenure at a newspaper and engagement to a local girl will be terminated unless he can identify the two unknown, decapitated women who lie in the town morgue. The awkwardness of the protagonist, the urgency of the situation, and the larger than life characters all bring to mind my two favorite Preston Sturges movies ('Hail the Conquering Hero' and 'Christmas in July'), though the situation herein with the mutilated bodies is darker and far, far weirder than anything in those pictures.

Although 'The Case of the Two Strange Ladies' is a shorter book than 'The Riddle of the Traveling Skull,' the protagonist's plight, his playful romance, and his back story are better developed, and the setting, Southern Town, is the more finely detailed of the two. Sprawling, lyrical sentences that are nearly as rich as Lovecraft's loving descriptions of coastal New England paint this fictional rural environment--check out the first two paragraphs of Chapter II for some top examples of this. Keeler's version of southern dialect is hilarious (I believe intentionally), though occasionally a bit abstruse and adds even more flavor to his southern world. Populated with boldly caricatured inhabitants such as Colonel Dixenberry Lee and Ocie Frizzel, this world is hyperbolic and engrossing. 

My one real criticism for this book is that it is clearly a short novel that has been grown to a more regular length with a marginally related short story. Many authors have made 'novels' with patchwork/episodic narratives (eg. Arthur Machen's 'The Three Imposters,' Robert Maturin's 'Melmoth the Wanderer,' Sax Rohmer's 'Brood of the Witch Queen,' etc.), but the problem here is that this particular detour--about a purloined diamond necklace--is a normal, locked-room mystery (albeit with a very clever resolution worthy of Edgar Allan Poe or Arthur Conan Doyle). This tale lacks the weirdness, atmosphere, characterization, and urgency of the main story and feels like filler, though it is enjoyable to a lesser degree.

The superior central thread with Tommy Skirmont is eventually resumed, and the incredible surprise that Keeler supplies for a resolution elicited an audible "Holy shit!" from my mouth, which was a first. As I read and reread this stunningly clever (and shocking) revelation, which is probably the single best plot twist I've come across in my entire life, I was very, very pleased that more books by this incredible author were en route to my apartment...

The Riddle of the Traveling Skull (Harry Stephen Keeler, Paul Collins) Review

Rating 5 Stars

The Riddle of the Traveling Skull (1934) is an incredible book and my sixth favorite novel of all time.* At the beginning of this story, the protagonist comes upon an oddly adorned human skull in a travel bag, and what follows is the wildly twisting investigation of the aforementioned cranial artifact.

After reading eighty pages of this work, I ordered a couple of other books by Harry Stephen Keeler, and before I had reached the end of the novel, three (not inexpensive) first editions where en route to my apartment. (The last time I was so enormously impressed by an author was when I discovered the impassioned and unhinged works of the versatile lunatic Norvell W. Page, who is my favorite writer.)

The midnight fever dream that Keeler builds in this novel is a confluence of magnificent coincidences, passionate asides, heaped minutiae, idiosyncratic characters, and blindsiding twists, where shocking plot revelations are followed by amazingly complex explanations.

The author's aptitude at setting expectations, inverting them, and then twisting them again and again (and yet again) is worthy of accolades, and what is most commonly discussed about his work, though he has other serious talents besides his notably convoluted plotting. The Riddle of the Traveling Skull often proves to be exceptionally moody-- Chapter XXIII is absolutely masterful in this regard. And in addition to his abilities with atmospherics, Keeler's humor is terrific and sharp, reminding me a bit of Mervyn Peake-- surprising exclamation points and odd diatribes burst from mouths of many of the characters of this richly realized world.

This book is recommended to people who savor creativity, humor, oddity, and invention, and it is not recommended to pretentious/insecure people who use horrible phrases like "so bad, it's good" or "guilty pleasure" to defend liking something that is dated or unrealistic or perhaps not deemed "sophisticated" by the intellectual elite. Really, don't people have better things to do with their lives than read things that they think are genuinely bad? (And if the book succeeds at what it's trying to do--as this one does spectacularly--then it isn't "bad" or "cheesy" and readers should enjoy the eccentric success, without such pretentious qualifications.)

The Riddle of the Traveling Skull is from another era and is not an attempt at realism, but a wild, engaging and brilliantly implausible crazy mystery told by an exceptionally distinct craftsman who has no known peers. This superb novel is the first of many Harry Stephen Keeler novels that I will read.


*My Top 6 books
6. The Riddle of the Traveling Skull (Harry Stephen Keeler)
5. The Three Imposters (Arthur Machen)
4. Diaspora (Greg Egan)
3. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
2. Gormenghast (Mervyn Peake)
1. Titus Groan (Mervyn Peake)