Posts Tagged ‘Deals’

A Legendary Evening

Tuesday, April 4th, 2023

[Nate here with a quick plug before this week’s update: VJ Books, home to the world’s largest selection of signed books, is featuring M.A.C. for the month of April with a 50% off sale. Check it out below!]

VJ Books M.A.C. sale banner
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Most of the honorees to date among Muscatine Community College’s Legends have been pillars of the community, including a former dean and major industrialists, and certainly no other writers of sex-and-violence thrillers. How is this to be explained?

Here are the words writer Robert Towne put into the mouth of John Huston as Noah Cross in Chinatown: “Politicians, ugly buildings, and whores all get respectable if they last long enough.”

That may explain it.

I attended Muscatine Community College from 1966 through 1968. My father taught choral music there in the 1950s. I took classes at MCC throughout my senior year of high school and racked up a good number of credits, and had the pleasure (and honor) of being taught and mentored by Keith Larsen, poet and gentleman farmer, who has a building named after him at MCC. So I had affection for the community college before I made the decision to turn down a bunch of writing and even football (I’d have been killed) scholarships, influenced by my desire to keep my band the Daybreakers together. I’d formed the combo my senior year of high school and wanted to stick with it for a while. No idea the Daybreakers would morph into Crusin’ and I’d still be at in 2023.

I taught Freshman English and classes in both literature and creative writing at MCC during the first five years of my so-called adult life. My last semester at the Writers Workshop at the University of Iowa in Iowa City coincided with me teaching half-time at MCC, which over those five years would expand to full time and then (as my fiction writing career got off the ground) recede back into half-time.

But my roots with MCC are deep, and in that fashion at least my becoming “Legendary” there makes at least a little sense. I should mention that Barb not only attended MCC – where the two of us got together, after knowing each other since childhood – and got her four year-degree there from an extension program offered by Iowa Wesleyan College (now, unfortunately, facing a shut-down). She was also on the scholarship board for MCC and as far as I am concerned is every bit as legendary as yours truly.

The evening celebrating my new legendary status – last Thursday, March 30, at the Merrill Hotel – was pleasant and fun, and never embarrassing. Friends like Matt and Pam Clemens were there, as were bandmates Bill Anson (guitarist) and Steve Kundel (drummer). I’d gone anticipating seeing a lot of my parents’ friends, but few were in attendance, having (like my folks) long since passed away. So a lot of the faces were as unfamiliar as they were friendly.

Our number one fan – Stephen Borer, who is blushing even as he reads this – made an unannounced trip from St. Paul, Minnesota (!), to attend the event. He sat with us at the Collins family table, where son Nate, his bride Abby, and our two incredibly smart grandchildren – Sam, 7, and Lucy, 4 – were also seated. Those two kids sat through a long evening, surprisingly interested in the proceedings and even (mostly) paying attention to the documentary about their grandfather. (Sam noticeably gasped when some violent pages from Lone Wolf and Cub were displayed in the doc as having influenced Road to Perdition.) My wife’s wonderful aunt Helen, herself an MCC legend in tandem with her husband, the late Stan Howe (a great friend of my father’s), sat with son Jim with Barb splitting time between the two tables.


M.A.C. and Stephen Borer

We gave away 130 copies of various M.A.C. and Barbara Allan books, and I signed quite a few after the dinner, which was provided by more than half a dozen local restaurants. The main event was an excellent half-hour documentary about my life and work. Before you dismiss my positive reaction as having mostly to do with my approving of the subject matter, I have to say Naomi DeWinter (president of MCC) and the college’s media guru Chad Bishop did an incredible job pulling the disparate elements of my creative life together into a cohesive whole.

I hope to have a link, before long, to this documentary, as some of you may wish to give it a look.

We also, rather casually, let it be known that the aforementioned Chad Bishop – who was the on-stage foley artist, among much else, on Mickey Spillane’s Encore for Murder – has enlisted me to do a project at MCC…specifically a production of Blue Christmas, long a favorite unrealized project of mine.

You may have read a little about that here already, but I’ll recap. Blue Christmas is a proposed film version of my novella, “A Wreath for Marley,” which might be described as a mash-up of The Maltese Falcon and A Christmas Carol. I thought I’d hung up my indie filmmaking spurs (or maybe megaphone and jodphurs) after a long effort to get Road to Purgatory made followed by my descent into health problems, most dramatically open-heart surgery. But then the Encore for Murder experience – staging it as a play and then shooting it as a film (or video production or however it might best be described) – got my juices flowing again.

(NOTE: The screening of Encore for Murder at the MCC Black Box Theater has been moved to May 5. Inclement weather caused the postponement, although the success of the Hawkeye girls in the Final Four was also a factor.)

We are already in serious pre-production with Blue Christmas, and have applied for several grants – one particularly key – that require us to come up with matching funds. Some of that can be “in kind” (i.e., I don’t get paid) but some has to be actual, you know, money. So we have launched an Indiegogo campaign to raise those funds. See my video pitch below.

I’ll be talking about this more over the coming weeks and months. But if you can kick in a few bucks – maybe enough to make it into the credits with a producing credit – that would be much, much appreciated.

By the way, if you’re never read “A Wreath for Marley,” it’s in a book entitled (not surprisingly) Blue Christmas from Wolfpack. And it’s available right here.

Speaking of Wolfpack, they have Barb’s (and my) great collection of short stories, Too Many Tomcats, on sale for 99-cents right now. Don’t dismiss this as a “cat” book – Barb (and I) mostly write about cats who are either killed or are themselves killers.

Amazon has a deal worth noting, too. Starting April 1 and running through April 30 Fate of the Union by Matt Clemens and me is $2.99 on e-book.

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Sadly, we have come to the end of the Max Allan Collins Film Festival, held annually during March, my birthday month. Here are last week’s selections:

12. Super Troopers. Okay, they can’t all be Vertigo or Chinatown. Sometimes they just have to be dumb fun, and this movie is the most dumb fun to be had in one place, and it is a refreshing look at Brian Cox before Succession, which I like…just not as much as Super Troopers. A few years ago the Broken Lizard comedy team (who put this film together) appeared in Iowa City at the Englert Theater. Barb and I got to meet them after the performance and they were unfailingly nice and fun.

13. The Magnificent Seven. Barb requested a western and I quickly served this one up. Never get tired of it. Never get tired of seeing all these stars either at their peak or on the cusp of greater things. Never get tired of watching Steve McQueen upstage Yul Brynner, and Yul Brynner entertainingly retaliating. Then there’s Eli Wallach, whose performance here – really, the whole movie – paves the way for The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

14. Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot. Another Barb request – I wanted to wait till June 1 for this one, when summer was getting started, but when a lovely blonde requests a screening of one of the greatest comedies ever made, who am I to argue? Not a knee slapper (like The Producers for example), Hulot is all gentle comedy, observational humor, and pleasing sight gags. It always feels like you’ve been on vacation after viewing it.

15. Start the Revolution Without Me. This is one of the three truly outstanding funny performances from Gene Wilder (the others being the aforementioned Producers and Young Frankenstein). The first half of this film is hilarious – a take on The Corsican Brothers specifically and swashbuckling films in general – but the second half devolves into farcical blackouts, which are also hilarious but intermittently. Look, the movie is a mess. But what a wonderful, sublime mess, from the greatest comedy team who ever made only one movie together: Gene Wilder and Donald Sutherland. “As we say in Corsica — goodbye!”

16. Hour of the Gun. Another western – James Garner as Wyatt Earp and Jason Robards as Doc Holliday in what was then the most accurate retelling of the O.K. Corral shoot-out (and the subsequent “vendetta ride”) to date. It’s still the best, and a grim shock to the system for Garner fans raised on the wry Maverick. The second western from director John Sturges this week (Magnificent Seven being the other).

17. The Time Machine. George Pal’s charmingly dated yet timeless special effects and a narrative that rests comfortably on the broad shoulders of Rod Taylor are enough. But the surprisingly moving story of a man unstuck in time, who falls in love with Yvette Mimieux without quite knowing it, retains its emotional impact with an action-packed climax that holds up (Taylor doing almost all of his stunts). This sports a terrific supporting performance from Alan Young, who deserved better than Mr. Ed, and a mesmerizing score with a haunting theme by Russell Garcia.

Thus ends this year’s Max Allan Collins Film Festival. What, no Gun Crazy? No Kiss Me Deadly? What about The Great Race? No Anatomy of a Murder? There’s always next year….

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Peter Davis at The Washington Times has been very kind to Spillane – King of Pulp Fiction. Here is his interview with my co-author, James L. Traylor.

The Big Bundle is briefly but intelligently discussed on this podcast.

Finally, fifteen comic-book murder mysteries are recommended here, and Road to Perdition is one of them.

M.A.C.

Encore for Encore

Tuesday, March 21st, 2023

The poster pictured here will give notice to anyone within driving distance of Muscatine, Iowa, the information needed to attend the theatrical premiere of the filmed version of Mickey Spillane’s Encore for Murder starring Gary Sandy as Mike Hammer.

Encore for Murder premiere poster

It’s a Golden Age Radio presentation, the actors with scripts (sometimes) in hand, the costuming limited, the sound effects produced on stage (often to comic effect) with a foley table manned by the editor of the feature, Chad Bishop. The cast, other than Mr. Sandy, is local, though these are experienced theatrical veterans, many of whom have appeared in independent films. This production of Encore was presented only once, last September, as a benefit for the Muscatine Art Center.

We did record two dress rehearsals, and some footage from those was edited in (sometimes just the audio used), and what was a two-act play was edited into one continuous 90-minute production.

My goal was to produce a substantial bonus feature for a home video release (Blu-ray for sure and possibly DVD) of the expanded Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane documentary from 1999. My collaborator Phil Dingeldein shot and edited (and I wrote) enough new material to bring Mickey’s story up to the present, and expand the running time from 47 minutes to about an hour. (The Criterion special edit, for their disc of Kiss Me Deadly, runs about half an hour.) Though taking the doc up to 61 minutes made releasing it on its own a possibility, I felt adding Encore for Murder as an Added Value bonus would enhance the package. I also was proud of what we accomplished on what was essentially no budget (and some free help from Phil and dphilms, and Chad Bishop and Muscatine Community College). Even Gary Sandy donated his considerable services.

Gary, as you may know, played Hammer in Golden Age of Radio-style productions of Encore for Murder in Owensboro, Kentucky, and Clearwater, Florida. Encore was nominated in its original, somewhat longer incarnation for an Audie (Best Original Work) in 2011 with Stacy Keach and a full cast doing it for Blackstone Audio. We won Best Script in 2012 at the International Mystery Writers’ Festival in Owensboro, and in 2018 did a rather more elaborate production at the Ruth Eckard Hall’s Murray Theater in Clearwater, Florida.

The Muscatine production held its own in comparison, utilizing the approach of the Clearwater show, which included a large screen with scene-setting slides, costumes and music. The music we used came from Chris Christensen’s score for Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane and Stan Purdy’s 1954 music for Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer Story.

The big news is that VCI Entertainment – who brought the Mommy double feature out on Blu-ray not long ago – will be distributing both the new version of the documentary and Encore for Murder (on one Blu-ray) and taking them out individually to the streaming services.

If you are considering coming to Muscatine for this event, we would recommend the Merrill Hotel, a lovely new facility right on the Mississippi.

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The Max Allan Collins Film Festival that is screening my home (no guests invited) continues throughout my birthday month of March.

5. Murder He Says. This 1945 hillbilly take on The Old Dark House sub-genre is the best comedy Bob Hope never made…but Fred MacMurray did. Helen Walker (of the original and superior version of Nightmare Alley) is wonderful here as is Marjorie Main, very much a sociopathic Ma Kettle. In town police is.

6. Waiting for Guffman. The funniest of Chris Guest’s semi-improvised mockumentaries showcases SCTV superstars Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara, although everyone here is great….Christopher Guest, Parker Posey and Fred Willard tying for MVP. The Blu-ray has much more of local musical Red, White and Blaine, with numbers apparently cut not just for timing purposes but because they are too good.

7. Harvey. One of James Stewart’s three greatest performances (It’s a Wonderful Life and Vertigo being the others). He’s often been called a little too young for the role of Elwood P. Dowd but it works to the advantage of the film, as he comes across less a drunk (much less) and more a sweet person who stepped away from harsh reality into pleasant fantasy. On the other hand, the movie does not shy away from indicating that Harvey really exists and and how are you, Mr. Wilson?

8. Game Night. This 2018 film is the newest in my film festival so far, but it’s a gem. Hilarious with every performance spot on, and Jason Bateman at his very best. Jesse Plemons as the cop next door almost steals the picture anyway.

9. Leprechaun. Everything else this time around is a comedy, right? But then so is Leprechaun, and the special features documentary reveals that a second director/writer came in and did the really bloody gore stuff, which doesn’t harm this vastly underrated film much at all, because its absurdity fits right in. Did you expect us to watch anything else on St. Patrick’s Day? I just wish the sequels had stayed consistent with the original. We met Warrick Davis and he’s a great, great guy.

Signed Photograph of Warrick Davis as the Leprechaun
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This terrific review of Spillane – King of Pulp Fiction includes an interview with me. A follow-up will soon cover Jim Traylor’s interview on our well-received book.

Wolfpack has the Eliot Ness “Cleveland quartet” at a reasonable price.

An interesting review of the Yoe Books Johnny Dynamite collection, edited and with contributions by Terry Beatty and me, is here.

If you missed it, here’s the info on the Muscatine Community College “Legends” tribute to, yeah, well, me. It takes place on March 30 (a Thursday evening) and the Encore for Murder screening is March 31.

Tickets here. They’re expensive but go to the college.

Trailers from Hell takes a long look at the current Blu-ray release of Mickey Spillane’s The Long Wait, with a commentary by me.

The Trailers from Hell essay is interesting if pretty patronizing, but trust me – The Long Wait is a terrific Spillane noir. Read about it (and order it) here.

For a look at a Long Wait clip, take a gander at this.

And yes, this time it’s Collider telling us about ten movies from comic books that you didn’t know yada yada yada. But, hey – we’re in fourth position.

M.A.C.

Girl for Sale, A Legend in His Own Mind & Two Sad Passings

Tuesday, March 7th, 2023

Girl Can’t Help It will be promoted via Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Kindle book deals in the US marketplace, now through 3/31/2023. It’s $2.49 during the promotion period. Executive Order will be available during the same promotional period for $2.99.

If you haven’t read Girl Can’t Help It yet, please consider taking advantage of this offer. It’s the only novel of mine at Amazon’s Thomas & Mercer that hasn’t “earned out,” which stalled any further entries in the series (and they haven’t wanted anything from me since, despite my selling something like a million books!).

Executive Order is the third novel in the Reeder and Rogers Trilogy by Matt Clemens and me, and like the other books in the series it was spookily prescient. You don’t have to have read the first two to jump onboard.


E-Book: Amazon

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I have been chosen as a Muscatine Community College “Legend,” which involves an event that includes a dinner and various things and stuff, coming up on March 30 (a Thursday evening).

Legends of MCC Promo

Legends of MCC Promo

This information rather pointedly doesn’t mention the price – a hefty $75 – but that’s because it’s a fundraiser for the college. It’s another of these really nice honors – like the MWA Grandmaster – that has a bittersweet tinge, because it implies to the recipient that maybe you’ve been at this long enough and should look for a porch with a rocking chair.

More info on the event is here.

And on the following evening, March 31, we will be presenting the “movie” version of Mickey Spillane’s Encore for Murder at Muscatine Community College’s black box theater (this will definitely not cost seventy-five bucks). “Movie” is in quotes because it was edited together from multiple camera footage of last September’s live presentation of the Golden Age Radio-style play starring Gary Sandy. More on this on next week’s update!

Muscatine Community College played a big role in my life. My father taught music there (and at the high school) and one of my key mentors, Keith Larson, taught at MCC for many years. Keith was a farmer and a poet and a dryly funny man with a gift for language – I’ve written about him here and elsewhere before.

In attending Muscatine Community College, I made the decision to turn down a couple of football scholarships (I’ve have been killed) and a Creative Writing scholarship at Iowa Wesleyan (where I’d won several high-school writing awards), and also not to follow many of my fellow high school classmates to the University of Iowa. I had my band the Daybreakers going and wanted to stick with that, so I chose MCC instead. Also, I wasn’t really ready to leave home yet. As an only child, I had a good gig going with my parents. I just wasn’t ready for a future away from what I knew, having no idea that I would in two years be getting married to the lovely Barbara Mull.

Muscatine Community College turned out to be both an excellent school – another mentor came into my life, Jack Lockridge, a tough ex-Marine with a warm heart – and the place where Barb and I sickened our fellow classmates with our obvious hallway affection for each other. Barb and I had been friends for years, but it blossomed into something that has lasted since the Fall of 1966. Seems to have taken.

I taught Freshman English and Literature at MCC for the first five years after graduating from the University of Iowa (and the Writers Workshop). Actually, there was overlap – my last semester at the Workshop coincided with my first semester of teaching at MCC.

So this honor is particularly sweet, and apt.

Speaking of Barb, she and I celebrated my 75th birthday (March 3rd) with an overnight stay in Galena, Illinois, a favorite getaway spot of ours, and the site of my novels Girl Most Likely and Girl Can’t Help It.

Max and Barbara at Otto's Place

We ate at several of our favorite restaurants, including Vinnie Vanucchi’s on my birthday and, the next morning, the best breakfast restaurant in the Midwest, Otto’s Place. That’s the pic I’ve included here.

The trip was about 75% great, and Barb was 100% wonderful throughout. But 25% of it reminded me why nowadays we seldom go anywhere that requires an overnight stay. For one thing, I have endeavored to make our house a great place not to have to leave – for example, the entertainment options – including my ridiculously huge library of laserdiscs, DVDs and Blu-rays, not to mention the CDs and books – are considerable. My late pal, actor Michael Cornelison, used to say he wanted to take all of his vacations at our house (he did once, too!).

Among the frustrations of our overnight stay at the Irish Cottage Inn (where we have visited many times – not really a cottage but a three-story resort-type hotel) was the TV choices – movies available were all twenty-bucks-a-pop On Demand stuff, much of which we had free at home (or “free,” i.e., were already paying for it). Previously the hotel had included HBO and other such movie channels.

We splurged on a room with a Jacuzzi and a separate bedroom (I believe you rich folks call that a “suite”) and discovered, much too late, that the Irish Cottage no longer supplied amenities like shampoo, conditioner, and a soap dispenser in the shower, instead providing one small bar of soap. Two tubs, two sinks, and one sliver of soap.

I discussed this, in a non-hysterical way, on check-out with a bearded youth who politely reminded me that “one bar of bathroom soap” was provided and I could have come down to the desk for more soap if need be. I wish I had, naked and wringing wet.

The getaway managed to be pleasant and well worth taking, but it was something of a reminder that the post-Covid world is one where restaurants and hotels have seized upon the excuse to dispense with many of the extras their patrons had come to expect.

My apologies for this update dissolving like a sliver of soap into a YELP! Review. Some of this is old age, and the indignities thereof. That I am expected to have a host of Apps (a term I despise almost as much as “dropped”) and endure being paged at restaurants via text (I do not text, not being a 16-year-old high school girl). Was it just last week that my wife warned me not to become Harlan Ellison? In other words, a curmudgeon?

What I am wrestling with, more than anything, is how to pace myself at this age. I wanted to complete the new Mike Hammer, Dig Two Graves, before we went on this getaway. Going on a trip with a chapter or two waiting to be written would make me nuts (nuttier). Also, the book needs to get into the hands of my editor at Titan, the great Andrew Sumner, who has been incredibly patient with me. When I see the cover on line and realize people are already ordering a book I have not yet finished writing, I get nervous.

I set myself a goal commensurate with the young me’s abilities, and wrote the novel in a blistering three weeks. That, I figured, would allow me to enjoy myself unburdened on our getaway. But I did not factor in small things like mental and physical exhaustion. In Galena, where a lot of walking is required, I ran out of steam fairly quickly, which was followed by the fun and games at the hotel, described above. (I spared you the hotel-room saga of my laptop insisting I run updates and then requiring me to enter a password I did not have.)

I share this with you, in part, because some of you have in the past gone to book signings in Chicago and other distant locales, and seen Barb and me at Bouchercons and San Diego Comic Cons, fairly regularly. These trips are either over or are going to be incredibly infrequent. We are pulling in and slowing down. (Me slowing down is still faster than most.)

Please know that I hate this. Getting away is good for the soul. I enjoy spending time with readers and my fellow creative types, authors, cartoonists, and filmmakers. I am exploring ways to do more right here in this smaller world, including some fairly ambitious things, like a return to filmmaking – we are seriously considering finally shooting Blue Christmas. But doing it right here in smalltown Muscatine, where I can go home at the end of the day to my bed and my happy little domicile and my preternaturally beautiful wife.

And when I say I wrote Dig Two Graves in three weeks, I must admit I’m not really finished – ahead is re-reading the book by way of a hard-copy manuscript, seeking typos, inconsistencies and sections that need tweaking. So how long did it take me start to finish? Call it a month.

I have no opinion about how long writing a novel should take. Dig Two Graves is relatively short – 50,000 words or so. Barb takes much longer on her drafts – six months at least. There is no rule. For me, I like to stay burrowed in, living in the novel, to give it consistency of tone and vision (so does Barb, it’s just a longer process for her). I like each book to have its own feel. To be a different place I visit.

So that much visiting, that much travel, I intend to keep taking.

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Tom Sizemore as Quarry in the Last Lullaby

The first-rate, troubled actor Tom Sizemore has passed away. He played Quarry (re-named “Price”) in The Last Lullaby, and made a terrific older version of the character. Amid the sadness, I was delighted to hear that Sizemore had considered The Last Lullaby one of his favorite projects, and Price/Quarry one of his favorite roles.

This Quarry/Price name change business had to do with my displeasure with the director, Jeffrey Goodman, having brought in a second writer on the script. I wanted to make sure no sequel could follow. My script, right when I was momentarily hot as the creator of Road to Perdition, was what was used to raise the money. My novel, The Last Quarry, was a novelization of that script and will show you what I had in mind.

The changes weren’t radical and The Last Lullaby is a movie I am happy with (if disappointed it wasn’t my version, of course). I could have pulled the plug on the production when my script was rewritten without my knowledge, but we negotiated and I got a better pay day out of it, plus was able to give copious notes on the rewrite (which the director mostly followed). So I feel grateful that the movie exists and that Sizemore made such a great Quarry. He really is closer to my concept than the Cinemax version, where the actor (otherwise fine) ignored the wry humor that is such a part of my Quarry.

I never met Sizemore, and was not on set for the shooting of a script co-written by me and someone else I never met. But I am saddened by his passing, and only hope his fine work on screen in The Last Lullaby and in a lot of other films overshadows in years to come his tabloid misadventures.

Here is info on where to stream The Last Lullaby.

It’s available here on DVD for a mere $7.99.

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I want also to note, sorrowfully, the passing of my friend Bill Mumy’s musical partner, Robert Haimer, the other half of the brilliant Barnes & Barnes.

Here’s what Bill had to say on Facebook:

I’m so sad to share the news that Robert Haimer, my friend since childhood and musical partner in Barnes & Barnes passed away this morning after a long illness. Robert was a one of a kind artist and person. Our relationship was based on harmony as was our music. Sometimes there was dissonance and silence and sometimes we made a mighty raucous roar together. I will miss making that unique “Barnes” music very much. Robert made many people happy with his talent and his humor. “Fish Heads,” our biggest hit, came from the mind of Robert Haimer. As with a lot of our catalogue, I just helped him fill in the blanks. I’m feeling stunned and somewhat shattered right now. My love to his wife Faithe, his sons Wynn and Ian, his brother Brian and all who knew and loved him. Robert’s music lives on. Enjoy it. yeah

M.A.C.

Spillane Bio Positive Praise & My Bad Attitudes

Tuesday, February 21st, 2023

Wonderful reviews are still coming in for Spillane – King of Pulp Fiction by Jim Traylor and me. We’ll start with this one, from the first-rate Shelf Awareness site:

Spillane: King of Pulp Fiction
by James L Traylor and Max Allan Collins

Mickey Spillane (1918-2006), one of the top-selling pulp mystery writers, gets his first-ever biography with Spillane: King of Pulp Fiction, a splendid, intimate and well-researched achievement by Max Allan Collins and James L. Traylor. The two have previously co-written books about Spillane, and Collins (Scarface and the Untouchable, with A. Brad Schwartz) co-authored/completed more than a dozen Spillane novels that were discovered and published posthumously. But this is the first full-length biography about the prolific author. For years, Spillane said he didn’t want anyone writing his biography because he was going to write it himself. This book contains Spillane’s entire autobiographical output–all 11 pages. (It ends in the middle of a sentence.)

Spillane gained national attention in 1947 when I, the Jury, his debut novel, introduced his violent private-eye-as-avenging-hero, Mike Hammer. The hardcover sold respectably, but the paperback sales were amazing. One book dealer reported selling 25,000 copies in one day. More Hammer novels were released from 1950-52 (including his only New York Times bestseller, Kiss Me, Deadly, and Vengeance Is Mine!, notable because it saves its surprise ending until the very last word). And then there was a decade of publishing silence. Collins and Traylor, polished writers and expert researchers, not only discover why Spillane refused to publish for a decade but also uncover his pseudonyms.

The two authors are strong and persuasive advocates of Spillane’s novels. Few readers will be able to resist sampling Spillane’s work after reading this engaging and definitive biography of the surprisingly affable tough-guy writer. –Kevin Howell, independent reviewer and marketing consultant

Here’s the review in context at the Shelf Awareness site:
https://www.shelf-awareness.com/sar-issue.html?issue=1161#m21157

I admit I was frustrated when I saw J. Kingston Pierce give a lot of space in the Rap Sheet to a new James Ellroy bio, a book that will likely knock Jim Traylor and me out of Edgar competition thanks to the brigade of “Demon Dog” acolytes. While I don’t generally criticize (in public) other writers in the genre, I have not hidden my contempt for the subject of this bio, or anyway his fiction; the very title of the bio (Love Me Fierce in Danger) announces the silly tin-ear pseudo noir poetry of this self-professed master.

I don’t say this to court an argument – this is my opinion and I’m unlikely to be swayed from it. I am also aware that a lot of smart people (probably a good number who are smarter than me) disagree with my harsh assessment of a writer I consider a fraud. It’s entirely possible that I’m wrong. But I’m counting on posterity to see through the Emperor’s lack of clothes.

No, I mention this because it demonstrates a battle I’m having with myself to focus on what’s important (my family, my health, my work) and not get caught up in my tendency toward petty resentment. My initial reaction to seeing Jeff Pierce give so much space to this particular competitor of mine was a knee-jerk one – a combination of what-am-I-chopped-liver? and childish annoyance.

Then the next day, there Jeff was at January magazine saying wonderful things about Spillane – King of Pulp Fiction. It made me feel like a fool, and I am exposing myself as one in sharing this reaction with you. But I’ll also share what Jeff (whose Rap Sheet is the definitive mystery fiction web column) had to say about Spillane:

Crime Fiction: Spillane: King of Pulp Fiction by Max Allan Collins and James L. Traylor

February 16, 2023 J. Kingston Pierce.

“The chewing gum of American literature” is how crime novelist Mickey Spillane described his books, which typically blended eye-for-an-eye justice with risqué innuendos and granite-chinned philosophizing (“Too many times naked women and death walked side by side”). And boy, did readers eat up his fiction, making his first Mike Hammer private-eye yarn, 1947’s I, the Jury, into a best-seller that spawned a dozen sequels and turned its protagonist into a radio, film, and TV fixture. Spillane developed his own media persona along the way, part-Hammer (he portrayed his Gotham gumshoe in a 1963 film, The Girl Hunters) and part-ham (he spoofed himself in a succession of Miller Lite beer commercials). In this enlightening biography, fellow writers Collins (his friend and posthumous collaborator) and Traylor make the most of their extraordinary access to Spillane’s personal archives, delivering incisive perspectives on his comic-book years, his multiple marriages, his pugnaciousness and wont to embellish the facts of his life, his surprising conversion by Jehovah’s Witnesses, his vexation with Hollywood, and his eventual recognition by peers who’d earlier condemned him as “a vulgar pulpmeister.” This book’s paramount success, though, is in casting Spillane as a trendsetting stylist, who recognized early the value of paperback publication and helped shape late-20th-century detective fiction.

Here is the January Magazine post in all its glory: https://januarymagazine.com/wp/crime-fiction-spillane-king-of-pulp-fiction-by-max-allan-collins-and-james-l-traylor/

I made one minor correction here – the original review puts I, the Jury’s publication at 1945, but it’s 1947. We are still in the 75th anniversary year of Mike Hammer’s first appearance.

I am and have always been very competitive, and that feeds pettiness and resentment, which isn’t entirely bad in the first two acts of a writer’s life. But in the third act the focus ought to focus onto just the work itself – what you are able to accomplish in the time you have left.

But old habits are hard to shake. So last week when I was approached via e-mail by a bookshop owner (a dying breed unfortunately) about a possible signing, I had certain knee-jerk reactions. First, this bookshop proprietor is a sweet guy and has always been a supporter of my work (and Barb’s). When we stopped doing signings for other people, we kept doing his. Nonetheless, I experienced certain irritations. In particular, I can’t remember once in a number of decades when this very nice man ever said anything positive about my (our) work. And he always took me aside to tell me with great enthusiasm about some mystery writer (some writer who wasn’t me) he had recently discovered.

If I were a mature, grounded individual – a state I aspire to but haven’t yet reached – I would interpret this behavior in a positive way. This individual probably thought his liking for my (our) work was obvious – after all, he was booking us back into his shop for signings regularly. He looked at me as someone interested in mystery fiction and wanted to share his enthusiasm for new discoveries in the genre.

Nothing wrong with that.

But again, a part of me responded: what am I, chopped liver? And I had said, numerous times in presentations at his shop, that I did not read current mystery writers for a multitude of reasons (which I’ve discussed here at length).

Last week he e-mailed me about doing a signing. Barb and I have not, obviously, done any signings in recent years. First came the open-heart surgery in 2016 and 2017, and then Covid. And, of course, we are both approaching age 75. (This appearance would require a four-hour drive one-way and an overnight stay, at our expense of course.) But we had already discussed that this particular bookshop was a place we wouldn’t mind signing at again, maybe one last time…but at least one last time.

The shop owner’s invitation to do a signing included a strong suggestion that we “share the stage” with another writer, who was also from Iowa and who was a big fan of mine and had met me a number of times. Okay – only I don’t remember meeting him (doesn’t mean I haven’t) but I have read a number of interviews and articles with and about him, and my name (probably the best known writer in the state of Iowa) (not a huge distinction) never came up. This was accompanied by praise for this writer from the bookshop owner and one of his customers, who had recently discovered this other Iowa author.

I stewed about this for several days, feeling insulted. (Exactly the kind of behavior I am trying to shake.) When I responded to the e-mail, I did my best to stay positive and friendly. But I did take a hard pass on “sharing the stage” with a fellow Iowan author.

The bookshop owner – an incredibly nice man – has not responded to my e-mail, probably astounded by my attitude.

I guess I have a prickly side. Or maybe just a prick side. But I am generally friendly and jokey and it surprises people when I recoil at stuff like this. I wrote here about how offended another (ex-)bookshop owner was that I didn’t express gratitude for being sent a laundry list of errors in The Big Bundle I’d supposedly made (and some I had, but a good number weren’t errors at all).

Last week I discussed how I didn’t consider teaching to involve “heavy lifting,” after which I got scolded (rightly) for diminishing the tough role of teachers. But I thought I’d been clear that I was talking about my own teaching experience – how I’d been able to fake it and just use my gift of gab to get by. That it had not been my finest hour. To me, teaching is – or should be – a calling. At West Junior High, Terry Beatty’s father fueled my love for reading. At Muscatine High School, Mr. Robinson encouraged me to write (and a teacher I despised, Miss Fogerty, taught me everything I know about grammar and usage, God bless her). At Muscatine Community College, Keith Larson – farmer poet – taught me to love the sound of words, and Jack Lockridge – tattooed ex-Marine history teacher – turned me from an Ayn Rand conservative into a left-of-center Democrat in one session. At the University of Iowa, in the Writers Workshop, Richard Yates encouraged me to layer more and more reality onto my melodrama, and got me my first agent.

These were great people. I was not their equal. Barely their peer. There was never any heavier lifting done than what these teachers did with the raw clay of my desire to tell stories.

On the other hand, I will not censor myself here (my son Nate is in charge of that). I present my thoughts and, to some degree, my opinions here, unfiltered and unvarnished.

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The new version of Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane (my 1999 documentary) is complete. It used to run 47 minutes and now is 61 minutes. We’ll be delivering it to VCI Home Video, along with the 90-minute Encore for Murder program (as bonus content) next week.

Here’s a reminder that Supreme Justice will be promoted via Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Kindle book deals in the US marketplace, now through 2/28/2023, offered at 2.99 USD during the promotion period.

M.A.C.