Series Saturday: HBO's Perry Mason

This is a blog series about … well, series. I love stories that continue across volumes, in whatever form: linked short stories, novels, novellas, television, movies, comics.

Let me start this post out with a bit of background/disclaimer/call it what you will: I’ve never read any of Erle Stanley Gardner’s Perry Mason novels (I intend to fix that in 2021); I’ve never seen any of the 1930s Perry Mason movies (starring Warren William as Maxon and Claire Dodd as Della Street); and I don’t think I’ve watched an episode of the Raymond Burr series since I was in high school (although I do recall catching a couple of the late 80s/early 90s reunion movies). So, I’m probably not coming at the new Perry Mason TV series with anywhere near the expectations/baggage heavy Mason fans are. That said: this is definitely a different Perry Mason than the television show I remember.

That’s not the negative it sounds like. I liked the episodes of Perry Mason I saw as a kid/teen. But I’m also pretty open to new interpretations even of characters I love (otherwise, how could I stand so many different versions of Superman parading across my television screen?). And I happen to really enjoy film noir.

And that’s what this new series is: a noir interpretation of the previously unwritten “origin story” of Perry Mason. As noir, the eight-episode season hits all the right notes. The tone is dark, dark, dark throughout, and violent/graphic as well, from the opening scene of the first episode (a dead baby in a trolley car) to the flashback scenes of the final episode (revealing much of what the audience and Mason have suspected all along). It’s a bit unrelenting, almost suffocating. Even the daylight scenes of Los Angeles in winter/spring feel dark and a bit claustrophobic. By the time I was able to access HBOMax and watch the show, the entire season was available; I admit I found it hard to watch more than one episode at a time without coming up for light and air in between.

The set-up, for those unfamiliar, is that this is Mason’s “origin” story. Mason (Matthew Rhys) starts the season as a down-beat, down-on-his-luck private eye living on a slowly dying family farm next to a small airport, taking whatever follow-and-photograph jobs he can. Sometimes, those jobs come from lawyer E.B. Jonathan (John Lithgow) via Jonathan’s secretary Della Street (Juliet Rylance) and sometimes Mason calls on fellow P.I. Pete Strickland (Shea Whigham) for help. E.B.’s newest job for Mason involves investigating the kidnapping/death of baby Charlie Dodson, which includes investigating the child’s parents Matthew (Nate Corddry) and Emily (Gayle Rankin). E.B. has been hired by rich magnate Herman Baggerly (Robert Patrick), who goes to the same church as Matthew and Emily: The Radiant Assembly of God, led by Sister Alice McKeegan (Tatiana Maslany) and her mother Birdie (Lili Taylor). Along the way, Mason finds himself at odds with District Attorney Maynard Barnes (Stephen Root), Judge Fred Wright (Matt Frewer) and Detectives Holcomb (Eric Lange) and Ennis (Andrew Howard), and assisted by coroner Virgil Sheets (Jefferson Mays), beat cop Paul Drake (Chris Chalk), aviator Lupe Gibbs (Veronica Falcón), and a friend of Della’s named Hazel Prystock (Molly Ephraim).

The good news for viewers and mystery lovers alike: as complicated as the overlapping plots get (there are also subplots about E.B.’s financial difficulties, Mason’s estranged wife and son, Gibbs trying to purchase Mason’s family farm, Della’s boarding house friendships, Sister Alice’s health, and Drake’s struggles as a black cop), every question asked in the early episodes is answered by the end of the final episode. No cliffhangers, no missing resolutions. And the revelations about what really happened to baby Charlie and why are what I call “fair play” – that is, the clues are there littered throughout for the viewer to pick up on, even if Mason and Co. don’t see them as quickly or as clearly. I was very satisfied with the way the overlapping mysteries and crimes were pulled together, and the way the majority of the subplots were at least temporarily resolved (hey, something has to carry over to a potential season two). Most of the characters get what they deserve (both for good and bad). Fans of the Raymond Burr-led television series may not be as enamored of the way the final episode tweaks the final big courtroom scene. And I know people more familiar with the legal system are not happy about the way Mason goes from private eye to full lawyer in the space of an episode. I can live with upended expectations and a bit of suspension of disbelief.

Rhys’ Mason is a classic noir detective: disheveled, discontent, easy to anger but also chivalrous (mostly), and doggedly determined once he decides something must be done. The character has shades and depths, and he’s not always likeable. This unlikability could have been an issue; the show is called Perry Mason, after all, and if we’re not invested in the character from the get-go that’s a problem. But Rhys gives his all to every emotion, every scene, and shows us why we should care about this damaged, often bitter, man. Mason’s arc is as strong as it is because Rhys lets us see the potential good even when Mason is at his worst in the season premiere. The character’s redemption is not a straight incline. For my money, Perry’s worst moments are mid-way through the season. Rhys plays it all expertly.

While the show is about Mason, it hews close to another aspect of noir that I love: strong, nuanced women. Rylance’s Della Street is a powerhouse of a character, equally confrontational and supportive, and I loved every moment she was on screen. She is clearly Perry’s equal, and she is the “better angel” who sits on his shoulder (and E.B. Jonathan’s shoulder as well). Equally impressive was Tatiana Maslany. I think this is the first thing I’ve seen her in (yes, yes, I know: I should watch Orphan Black) and she was mesmerizing, commanding every scene she was in regardless of whether Sister Alice was in the throes of religious ecstasy or pushing back against a controlling mother. Gayle Rankin’s Emily Dodson is the not the femme fatale one expects at the center of a noir crime story, but Rankin’s portrayal of a mother broken by the death of her child is just stunningly raw and captivating.

I know that there’s been a lot of pushback from some quarters about the casting of Chris Chalk as Paul Drake (a white character in the Raymond Burr Mason series, who I’m going to guess is also a white man in the original novels upon which both shows are based). Arguments have been made that there’s no way a black investigator, even working for a white lawyer, would have been effective in 1930s America. It will be interesting to see how this plays out in future seasons (if there are any). Regardless, Chalk is compelling, imbuing Drake with a simmering anger that he’s unable to ever totally put aside (and which erupts in one powerful scene early on, to Mason’s detriment).

The supporting cast is equally superb all around. John Lithgow is, as I think everyone knows, one of my favorite actors; his mercurial (for good reason) E.B. Jonathan appears in only four episodes but in that time you love, hate, and empathize with him in equal measure. Stephen Root’s Maynard Barnes, on the other hand, is the character you love to hate, the epitome of the slick politician who is more concerned with rising to power than he is with any kind of justice. (Robert Patrick’s officious, judgmental Herman Baggerly and Lili Taylor’s controlling, abusive Birdie McKeegan vie for second pace in the “love to hate” category.) Shea Whigham throws brilliant snark as Paul Strickland but lets us see that there’s a good guy under all that attitude. Lange and Howard do as much as they can with the “how bad are they” corrupt-cop duo act, with Howard playing the heavy very well when required. Jefferson Mays’ Virgil and Molly Ephraim’s Hazel provide some much-needed awkward humor at the right moments. Veronica Falcón’s Lupe is sexy and strong, perhaps the one true “femme fatale” in the series. Every one of these roles is a full character: we get to see at least hints of what makes them who they are.

The show is not perfect. I’ve already mentioned the stunning speed with which Mason goes from private eye to lawyer. At times, the show feels like it’s trying to do much with the lives of the supporting cast for an eight-episode season – the main storyline might have had more room to breathe had some of those supporting-cast moments been downsized a bit. And there are several pointed mentions of a mysterious Chinese gangster which felt heavy with implication and purpose, but those mentions never tie into the Charlie Dodson case nor with Sister Alice’s church. Perhaps it’s a set-up for season two. And I hope there is a season two!

2021 Reading Challenges

I always set myself more than one reading challenge per year. Some carry over from year to year, and some are new. Some are broad and some are themed. And in many cases, books read will help me meet more than one challenge. Here’s this year’s list.

TO BE READ CHALLENGE

The idea (formulated by RoofBeamReader at his blog several years ago) is to pick 12 books (plus 2 alternates in case you find yourself unable to finish a couple of your main choices) that have sat unread on your bookshelf for a year or more. Books published in 2020 wouldn’t be eligible, nor would re-reads. This year, I’ve decided to pick 24 books (12 fiction, 12 non-fiction) plus four alternates. I plan to come back to this post and add “date completed” for each book individually and for each series as a whole. Here are my lists for 2020 (not listed in intended reading order):

FICTION:

1.       The Mystery of the Sea by Bram Stoker

2.       How Long ‘til Black Future Month by NK Jemisin

3.       The Ghost and Mrs. Muir by R. A. Dick

4.       Dune by Frank Herbert

5.       Monstress Volume 1 by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda

6.       Blackfish City by Sam J. Miller

7.       Excalibur! by Gil Kane and John Jakes

8.       Lord Tyger by Philip Jose Farmer

9.       The Book of Lost Saints by Daniel Jose Older

10.   Slights by Kaaron Warren

11.   Minky Woodcock: The Girl Who Handcuffed Houdini by Cynthia Von Buhler

12.   The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum

Alternate #1: Let Me In by John Ajvide Lindqvist

Alternate #2: The Red Lamp by Mary Roberts Reinhart

(NOTE: Last year’s two alternates, The Mystery of the Sea and Excalibur!, have been moved into the main challenge this year.)

NON-FICTION:

1.       Poisoning for Profit: The Mafia and Toxic Waste in America by Alan A. Block and Frank R. Scarpitti

2.       An Ordinary Man by Paul Rusesabagina

3.       Twilight at the World of Tomorrow by James Mauro

4.       Faery Tale: One Woman’s Search for Enchantment in a Modern World by Signe Pike

5.       Something in the Blood: The Untold Tale of Bram Stoker by David J. Skal

6.       Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States by Roxane Dunbar-Ortiz

7.       The Celluloid Closet by Vito Russo

8.       The Tricky Part: One Boy’s Fall from Trespass into Grace by Martin Moran

9.       Comic Book Implosion: An Oral History of DC Comics Circa 1978 by Keith Dallas and John Wells

10.   Letters to the Pumpkin King by Seanan McGuire

11.   The Measure of a Man by Sidney Poitier

12.   First Family by Joseph J. Ellis

Alternate #1: Classics on Infinite Earths by Julian Darius

Alternate #2: Hollow Earth by David Standish

(NOTE: In previous years, I’ve given myself a generic “read more non-fiction” challenge; I’m altering that this year to challenge myself to read these specific books.)

365 SHORT STORIES CHALLENGE

Every year, I challenge myself to read one short story per day. Some years I keep the pace pretty well, and some years I fall behind and then scramble to catch up (and some years, I catch up and fall behind again, and some years I blow past the goal handily). I used to post thoughts on each individual story over on my now-largely-defunct LiveJournal; this year I plan to review a story or two in-depth each Sunday and then do a monthly “round-up” of all stories read that month. I’m defining “short story” as anything from flash fiction to novella-length. If a novelette or novella is published as a stand-alone book (eBook or otherwise), that story will also count towards my annual Goodreads “Books Read Challenge.”

GOODREADS CHALLENGE

Goodreads allows members to set a challenge. In 2020, I set a goal of 125 books and read over 150. For 2020, I’m setting the same goal of 125 to start with, and we’ll see what happens. Goodreads counts magazines as “books,” so I count them for this challenge as well. Of course, any book read for the TBR Challenge, or the other challenges mentioned in this post count towards this one.

GRAPHIC NOVEL CHALLENGE

I own far more graphic novels and trade paperback collections of classic comics than I’ve read. In 2017 I started trying to turn that around, and I’m again setting a goal in 2021 of reading one graphic novel per week, so 52 for the year, tracking them in the monthly Reading Round-Up Posts.

NON-FICTION CHALLENGE

As with graphic novels, I tend to get intrigued by and purchase far more non-fiction books than I actually end up reading. In an effort to clear some shelf-space, justify the money spent, and increase my knowledge a bit, I’m setting myself a new challenge this year to read two (2) non-fiction books per month, or 24 for the year, also tracked via the monthly Reading Round-Up posts.

READ THE BOOK / WATCH THE MOVIE CHALLENGE

I have so many books in my collection that are the basis for classic (and sometimes not-so-classic) movies that I thought it would be fun to read some of them and then see how the movies compare. In 2020, I didn’t do so well on this challenge, but I’m game to try again, and of course track them in the monthly Reading Round-Up posts, under the Page-to-Screen feature title and tag.

COMPLETE THE SERIES CHALLENGE

In previous years I’ve challenged myself to come “up to date” on series I’d started but fallen behind on. Last year, I challenged myself to also read one series that I own but have not read. Titles that I have read in each series are indicated with (read). Last year, I completed two out of the four series intended, so I’m repeating two of the challenges from last year and adding three for 2020.  I plan to come back to this post and add “date completed” for each book individually and for each series as a whole. If I complete any other series on my shelves, I’ll come back and add that series to this entry.

THE VELVETEEN SERIES by Seanan McGuire

1.       Velveteen Vs. The Junior Super-Patriots

2.       Velveteen Vs. The Multiverse

3.       Velveteen Vs. The Seasons

CARSON OF VENUS by Edgar Rice Burroughs

1.       Pirates of Venus – read in January 2020

2.       Lost on Venus

3.       Carson of Venus

4.       Escape on Venus

5.       The Wizard of Venus

THE CHRISTMAS CHRONICLES by Jeff Guinn

1.       The Autobiography of Santa Claus

2.       How Mrs. Claus Saved Christmas

3.       The Great Santa Search

THE FRANKENSTEIN NOVELS by Frank Schildiner

1.       The Quest of Frankenstein – read in 2018

2.       The Triumph of Frankenstein

3.       The Spells of Frankenstein

THE SHADOWSHAPER TRILOGY by Daniel José Older

1.       Shadowshaper – read in 2015

2.       Shadowhouse Fall

3.       Shadowshaper Legacy

MONTHLY MINI-CHALLENGES

In 2019 for the first time, I set myself some monthly mini challenges based on various factors. I’m going to do it again in 2021, but list those challenges here as well:

January: No specific challenge (to catch up on stuff I wanted to read in 2020)

February: Authors from Africa or of African descent (for Black History Month)

March: Women Authors (for Women’s History Month)

April: Poetry (for National Poetry Month)

May:  Asian/Pacific Authors (for Asian Pacific / South Asian Heritage Month)

June: Queer Authors (for Pride Month)

July: No specific challenge (to catch up on challenges I’ve fallen behind on)

August: Classic and New Pulp Authors (because Pulpfest/Farmercon is held this month)

September: Hispanic authors (Hispanic Heritage Month)

October: Horror! Horror! Horror! (because Halloween, obviously)

November: Noir (because “Noirvember”)

December: Winter Holiday-related Fiction (Christmas, Hannukah, etc.)

Happy Holidays!

This year’s Christmas poem is a repeat from 2012 because I thought we could all use a laugh:

I’m trying to write a Christmas song,

God, why is this so tough?

I have no musical talent and my rhyming’s kinda rough.

But it shouldn’t be so hard to string some words together,

Say something about Santa and stars or maybe sing about the weather.

(Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow)

I could try to be serious this year, sing about some modern woe

Songs by Bing and Bowie and the Alarm cover that pretty well though.

I could sing about missing Christmas with the someone that I love

But I’m pretty sure another sad song would make you all give me a shove.

(I’ll Be Home for Christmas…)

Maybe I should sing of sleighs! Of reindeer or snowmen or drummer boys!

Or maybe I should scrap this thing and go buy the kids their toys.

I could sing of New Year’s Eve instead, of hopes for where next year will go,

Or of how it’s just another night. Oh wait, that’s been done by Barry Manilow.

(It’s just another New Year’s Eve…)

Where’s the romance of holidays, the falling in love on a sleigh?

Maybe that’s what I should sing about: being merry and gay!

That’s it! I’ll sit up all night long, wait for a cute Santa to come by

Or maybe an Elf (of Legolas’s kind), I’m a geeky kinda guy!

(I’mma be under the Mistletoe with you…)

May you have a rock-and-roll Christmas, or one that’s White or Green or Blue.

May you have Nights Holy and Silent, be it Hannukah, Kwanzaa, Solstice or Yule.

May the Love and Light of the season

Warm you and keep you safe.

Merry Christmas, 

Happy Hannukah,

Joyous New Year!

Top Ten(ish): Christmas Books

Top Ten(ish) is exactly what it sounds like: I list of ten or so of my favorite things that have something in common (books by the same author or editor or publisher; music by the same band/performer, etc.). The (ish) allows me to run slightly higher or lower, because exactly 10 is often hard for me to decide. Note: they’re MY favorites, for a variety of reasons not always having to do with quality alone. I’m not saying they are The Best (in fact, I never make that determination, about anything). Your Mileage May Vary (YMMV). Please, don’t yuck my yum and tell me how I’m completely wrong about anything on this list.

Since it’s the night before Christmas, here’s my Top Ten(ish) Christmas books, in no particular order other than #1:

1.       A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens: I sincerely doubt anything will ever knock this novel from the top spot. I have re-read it every year for as long as I can remember, one “Stave” (chapter) per night starting on December 21st so that Scrooge awakens a changed man on the morning of December 25th. I also usually watch at least one movie version and listen to at least one audiobook version sometime during the month of December. It’s probably the first novella I ever read (holiday or not), and you’ll notice quite a few novellas on this list. I am typically not a Dickens fan, but you’d never know that based on how much I love this book.

2.       Homemade Holidays / Faux Ho Ho by ‘Nathan Burgoine: Speaking of novellas. I was never a real big romance reader, until I started reading ‘Nathan Burgoine. Granted, I started with his more paranormal romance Triad series, but I guess that was the gateway drug. Like the Carol, ‘Nathan’s two (so far) gay romance novellas that take place at Christmas time have become annual re-reads. Homemade Holidays is about a span of years in the life of a young gay writer who was disowned by his family and how he builds new traditions, and a new family, around himself, including finding true love. Faux Ho Ho is a classic “fake relationship” story: the gay son of a rich Conservative family pretends his platonic roommate is his boyfriend to get out of traveling home for Thanksgiving, but then the couple gets invited to his sister’s wedding. Sparks fly, but the truth – and love – will out. (I’d also like to mention that ‘Nathan rewrites a classic Christmas tale through a gay lens every year on his website, and this year’s tale is a take on “Jingle Bells” that is really terrific. I can’t wait until he has enough of these to print a collection.) I wrote a review of Handmade Holidays you can find here and can’t believe I haven’t reviewed Faux Ho Ho yet.

3.       State v. Claus by P. Jo Anne Burgh: Sometimes a book just “clicks.” This year, it was State v. Claus, in which Connecticut lawyer Meg Riley finds herself defending a man who claims to be the son of Santa Claus from a home-invasion charge … and finds herself falling in love and learning to believe in the magic of Christmas again. I reviewed it in full earlier this week, but just can’t recommend it enough. Like most of the books on this list, it’s likely to become a frequent, if not annual, reread.

4.       A Wish for Wings That Work / Red Ranger Came Calling by Berke Breathed: Anyone who knows my love of the comic strip Bloom County will not be surprised to see either of these books on the list. A Wish for Wings That Work stars Bloom County’s penguin Opus, wishing he could do what other birds could do. Red Ranger Came Calling is another tale of Christmas magic that doesn’t feature any Bloom County characters but is an endearing tale about, again, the magic of belief.

5.       How The Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss: I mean … ‘nuff said, amirite?  (Okay … it’s also my favorite Seuss book, the first Christmas book I ever read to my nieces and nephews, and I cannot read it without hearing Boris Karloff in my head.)

6.       A Wish to Be A Christmas Tree by Colleen Monroe (illustrated by Michael Glenn Monroe): A tall, aged pine tree grows in the forest, left behind every year as humans come and pick other trees to cut down and take home. The animals of the forest rally to lift the tree’s spirits and show it that it is loved. A simple, yet surprisingly powerful, picture book about loneliness at the holidays and the power of friendship.

7.       If Dragon’s Mass Eve Be Cold and Clear: Ken Scholes’ novelette looks at a different but still recognizable holiday tradition on a faraway planet, through the eyes of a young woman who has lost her father and lost her hope but who goes through the motions of the holiday traditions because her father would want her to. Along the way, Scholes muses not just on tradition but family expectation, community (the good and less-good aspects) and how hope can be found in the smallest of spaces. I wrote a full review last year around this time.

8.       Miracle and Other Christmas Stories by Connie Willis: There are quite a few Christmas/Winter short story collections and anthologies on my shelf. Most of them I have to admit I’ve re-read a story or two out of every so often, but this Connie Willis collection is the only one I’ve read more than once cover-to-cover. The stories are humorous and touching, the characters relatable and familiar. I can’t even attempt to pick a favorite or two out of the eight in the hardcover edition from 1999 that I have. The book has been re-issued with extra stories under the title A Lot Like Christmas. I really should pick the expanded edition up.

9.       The Twenty-Four Days Before Christmas / A Full House by Madeleine L’Engle: If I were to do a Top Ten(ish) Favorite Authors list, L’Engle would be on it. I loved the Wrinkle in Time books, of course, but I loved the Austin Family series just as much. I wanted to be best friends with Vicky Austin and, if we’re being honest, tween and early-teen me absolutely had a crush on her older brother John. While the main Austin books are YA, these two are illustrated Young Reader books. The Twenty-Four Days Before Christmas is narrated by seven-year-old Vicky, who is concerned the holiday will be impacted by the arrival of the newest Austin child, while A Full House is narrated by Mama Austin and centers on a homeless pregnant girl who shows up on their doorstep. Both are moving stories about the power of family, of love, and of community.

10.   The Polar Express by Chris Van Allsburg: I tried not to put too many picture books on this list (I have … well, a bunch), but besides The Grinch, this is the one I go back to pretty often, largely because of the beautiful artwork by Van Allsburg.

11.   The Book of Christmas (Time-Life Enchanted World series): Over the years, I’ve lost or given away most of the lavish hardcover Time-Life Library books I acquired in high school and shortly thereafter. But there are two volumes from Time-Life’s The Enchanted World series that I’ve never parted with. One is The Fall of Camelot (because hi, Arthurian-obsessed writer here) and the other is this one. The book doesn’t just concentrate on the Birth of Christ and various iterations of Santa Claus, but also includes a look at a number of other Winter holidays, carols, and traditions. In fact, a particular page and illustration in this book inspired my second Christmas novella, which will hopefully be out next year.

12.   A Stranger in the Woods by Carl R. Sams II and Jean Stoick: a beautiful photography book about a group of animals encountering a snowy stranger in the woods. Not so much a Christmas story as a tale about winter and the peaceful co-existence of humans and wildlife, it’s every bit as cute as it sounds.

13.   A Family for Christmas by Jay Northcote: It’s ‘Nathan Burgoine’s fault that I’m reading so much gay Christmas romance this year. I read this novella for the first time last year and am re-reading it now amidst a veritable avalanche of other gay romance. Another “fake relationship” story with endearing main characters and a happy ending. I am not well-red in the romance field (as I mentioned), but on the strength of this one, Northcote joined Burgoine as a go-to as I explore the field more, and A Family For Christmas joins Burgoine’s novellas on the frequent reread list.

14.   DC Super-Star Holiday Special, 1980, by various writers and artists: Yes, it’s a comic book, an anthology title including stories with Batman, Jonah Hex, Sgt. Rock, Superboy and the Legion of Super-Heroes, and DC’s horror comics hosts of the era. Like the Carol, it’s a book I’ve reread every year since 1980. Still the same copy, with subscription coupons cut out and all. As much as I loved super-hero Christmas stories, you’d think I’d have kept more of them over the years (particularly DC’s tabloid and digest-size Christmas with the Super-Heroes and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer editions, and Marvel’s tabloids as well). I should look into rebuilding that collection. But even if I do, nothing will ever supplant this particular comic in my heart.

Okay, friends: your turn! Hit the comments and tell me what your favorite Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa/Yule/Ramadan/Solstice/etc. books are – but please do so without denigrating what other people love.

Most of the books mentioned in this post.

a better picture of the DC Holiday Special cover. Smiling Batman! Remember those days?

I may have become slightly obsessed with gay holiday romances, guys.

Book Review: Up from the Bottomless Pit

TITLE: Up from The Bottomless Pit

AUTHOR: Philip José Farmer

251 pages, Meteor House Press, ISBN 9781945427176 (paperback)

DESCRIPTION: (from the back cover): Philip José Farmer’s Up from the Bottomless Pit, originally written in the late 1970s with the working title The Dragon’s Breath, is a near-mainstream novel about the ultimate ecological nightmare. Set in an alternate/near future 1970s, Up from the Bottomless Pit tells of a world so ravenous in its desire for oil that it has thrown caution to the wind. Using an experimental deep-water laser drill off the California coast, humankind burns a hole through the ocean floor only to unleash a deadly torrent that initially threatens the greater Los Angeles area, but quickly escalates to a catastrophe of worldwide proportions with the potential to wipe out all life on the planet. Published for the first time in an affordable standalone edition, Up from the Bottomless Pit does an amazing job predicting both the government’s and citizens’ reactions to large-scale crises such as Hurricane Katrina, the BP oil spill, and the COVID-19 pandemic. Strap in for an edge-of-your-seat adventure.

MY RATING: 5 stars out of 5.

MY THOUGHTS: The back-cover text does not lie when it calls this book an edge-of-your-seat adventure. Had it been published in the 1970s, I can easily imagine it being filmed by Irwin Allen with an “all-star cast.” If it were to be filmed now, the lead character, James Cable, would likely be portrayed by Dwayne Johnson. It has everything such a movie needs: massive fires, riots, lots of gunshots.

But to describe Up from the Bottomless Pit as just an edge-of-your-seat adventure is to undercut the real marvel of the novel: that in the 1970s, Philip José Farmer didn’t just write a disaster novel but rather a novel which uses that disaster to comment on social strata, disaster relief, corporate greed, government overreach, and religious fanaticism. I would like to hope any movie adaptation would retain these headier, more introspective qualities. (But let’s be honest, I’d probably be wrong.)

James Cable is the project lead for a cutting-edge new oil drill that uses lasers and therefore can cut through the rock under the seabed faster: saving money for his employers, Cal-Pax, and getting oil to the masses faster. Just before the novel opens, there’s been an earthquake near the drill site that resulted in cracks releasing oil into the ocean. Cable’s team has capably stoppered those cracks, and the drilling continues. Cable, as much as he hates it, has been tasked with bringing a news crew out to the platform for a feature about the new technology and how safe it is.

Of course, just before they arrive, there’s a breach, followed by a massive gusher and the platform going up in flames. There are equal odds the disaster was an accident or that there was sabotage by a religious group called The Soldiers of Jehovah. Cable and the news crew make it back to Los Angeles, where Cable’s job becomes stopping the largest-ever on-going oil spill from decimating the Pacific Ocean. That task is complicated by government officials who want someone to blame, corporate over-seers who are upset at the bad PR and loss of money, and the Soldiers of Jehovah who know a chance to foment religious rebellion when they see one. With each bad decision by the government and corporate, with each new attack by the Soldiers of Jehovah, the stakes get higher and the odds for survival slimmer.

It’s no surprise that Farmer expertly drives those stakes, and the tension, up by alternating massive disaster scenes with quieter moments. In the middle of a veritable riot in downtown LA, with people climbing over cars and other people to get to safety, Cable stops to help an injured old man. But by the time Cable gets the water the man needs the man has died. It’s a small moment, almost blink-and-you-miss-it, but it drives home the human cost of this mass exodus in a way the crowd scenes almost can’t. There are several moments like this in the center of the book that took my breath away; I could feel the noise of the riot fall away, could feel the space between breaths while Cable debates who to help and who he needs to be to survive.

Since the story is told through a tight POV on Cable, it’s a good thing he’s a complex character. He disdains his needy ex-wife, misses his estranged daughter, genuinely seems to like the challenges of his job. He’s willing to make hard decisions but isn’t a total heartless bastard (see the old man above, and several such moments, including a real heartbreaking one towards the end of the mass exodus, which is not the end of the novel). He’s also prone to judgement and doesn’t set aside his formed opinions of people easily, which sets up several bad decisions but also a couple of good ones. And of course, because this is a 1970s disaster novel after all, he falls in love with the intrepid reporter tasked initially with interviewing him and later with documenting everything he does to try to stop the worsening spill and its aftermath. (This is about the only real “trope-y” moment in the novel, and I think Farmer can be forgiven for it; thanks to novels like The Lovers and A Feast Unknown, he was almost expected to include a sex scene in every book he wrote, and romance on top of that.)

That tight POV means that we don’t get as deep a look into the motivations and actions of The Soldiers of Jehovah or the various government officials calling the shots. This allows for some surprises in the narrative. I find it amazingly prescient that Farmer predicted the rise of not just a Christian religious fanaticism within the United States, but also a well-organized and armed such group. I felt the echoes of today’s “local militias” in the moments where we encounter members of the Soldiers, and where we see the fruits of their labors. Cable spends more of his time in the company of the greedy upper management of Cal-Pax and the government “liaisons” telling him what to do and watching every move he and his team make. Again, in a bit of incredible foresight Farmer gives us a roadmap for how a government could restrict civil liberties and do away with normal rule-of-law under the guise of responding to a national disaster. In the 70s, audiences might have called this aspect of the novel far-fetched, but is it really?

Also in typical Farmer style, the author doesn’t tie everything up in a neat “happy ever after, the world is saved!” bow. There’s a “we’re safe for now” type of ending, but lots of work for the characters to do. The Soldiers of Jehovah are not totally routed; the government overreach isn’t immediately scaled back. I’m not going to spoil exactly how the characters who survive get to where they are at book’s end, but I felt like I needed to warn readers who don’t like loose ends that there are some. And that I’m sure Farmer did this totally on purpose.

I could probably write several essays on this book, but this review is getting lengthy. So: tl;dr: Up from the Bottomless Pit is indeed action-packed, and massively thought-provoking. One wonders what Phil Farmer would be saying if he were still here to see how truly he forecast the world we’re living in now.

Book Review: State v. Claus

TITLE: State v. Claus

AUTHOR: P. Jo Anne Burgh

380 pages, Tuxedo Cat Press, ISBN 9781735715704 (paperback, e-book)

DESCRIPTION: (from the back cover): As a partner in a small Connecticut law firm, Meg Riley assesses her clients’ cases based on logic, reason, and hard evidence. But Meg’s rational approach is tested when she is appointed to represent an attractive man who was arrested Christmas Eve for criminal trespass. His explanation for being in a stranger’s house in the middle of the night? He was delivering presents to a little boy – because he, Ralph Claus, is the son of Santa Claus. Or so he claims. From the courtroom to Santa’s workshop and back again, Meg’s efforts to win Ralph’s case are complicated by a variety of people with competing agendas. The little boy’s mother is determined to see Ralph convicted; a quest supported by a state senator who is running for Governor. Ralph’s mother is more concerned about protecting the secrets of Santa than the niceties of the legal system. Meg’s law partners are becoming concerned about her ability to balance Ralph’s case with her obligations to bigger clients – and they don’t even know about Meg’s romantic feelings for Ralph. After trial, an unexpected bombshell jeopardizes Meg’s career. Faced with the potential loss of both Ralph and her profession, Meg must decide once and for all what she truly believes – and what she is willing to sacrifice for that belief.

MY RATING: 5 stars out of 5

MY THOUGHTS: P. Jo Anne Burgh has woven a truly delightful Christmas romance (with a little bit of physical sizzle as well) out of her own familiarity with the legal system and the question of Santa Claus’ seeming immortality. This is a fun read (that I can easily see as a television movie – Netflix, are you listening?) that I hope will make it onto holiday-romance fans’ radar.

The main characters, Meg and Ralph, are endearing and frustrating in equal measure. I paused several times to say out loud (to the probable consternation of my upstairs neighbors) “NO MEG THAT’S A BAD DECISION” or “OH MY GOD RALPH COULD YOU BE ANY CUTER?” And vice versa; I don’t want to make it sound like Meg isn’t capable of being adorable or that Ralph doesn’t make bad decisions (in fact, it is a major bad decision on Ralph’s part that heightens the stakes of the story and propels the action of the second half). As someone who reads relatively little romance overall, and even less straight romance than gay romance, I count this in the book’s favor. Feeling that involved in the characters’ personalities and choices is a good thing.

I’m also not a big reader of legal fiction. I do know that television and movies often make it seem like the court system moves at a swift pace with cases investigated and resolved in just a few days. I appreciated that Burgh allows the action of the book to play out in what would be appropriate real time with a court case that starts out simple but quickly becomes complicated (and then even more complicated). Even a case involving Santa Claus is not necessarily going to move to the top of the court’s docket without good cause, and the acquisition of evidence and witnesses on top of courtroom scheduling can make even simple cases drag out. Burgh uses the real-life delays and setbacks to heighten the drama of the story and to tease out the romantic tension of the two leads.

The romance is neither delayed nor rushed. While the mutual attraction between Meg and Ralph is evident early on, the romance is a bit of a slow burn, taking a back seat in places to the complexities of Ralph’s case, and of course the Ralph-less trip to Santa’s workshop that Meg and her friend Holly take. The roadblocks in their way to a Happily-Ever-After (or at least a Happily-For-Now) ending are key to both the romantic and legal portions of the tale, and don’t just come from the other end of the courtroom; Ralph’s family and Meg’s co-workers have opinions and create problems as well. I also appreciated that neither Meg nor Ralph is a “give everything up for love” type of character. Not that they don’t consider it. But each truly wants to balance romance and work. For Ralph, it seems like this is the first time romance has threatened to interfere with his role in the family hierarchy, while Meg despite trying hasn’t found the right way to balance or the right guy to balance with. (I don’t know if Burgh is planning a sequel, but I can think of one way that Meg’s work and romantic life can come together peacefully and equally.)

There’s plenty of comedy in the book as well, including some well-delivered teenage snark from Ralph’s younger brother Mitch and an extremely cute case of “unrealized identity” that the reader catches on to long before Meg does. There are also cute animals: Meg’s office cat Lulu and a couple of reindeer.

The main supporting cast is well-developed. There are a few sub-plots I wish had gotten slightly more screen time (more of the friendship between Meg and Michael for instance), and two characters mentioned in the back-cover copy that I thought would be more important (the state senator running for governor and the bigger client Meg doesn’t lavish enough attention on) but who never really dovetail back into the main plot. But there’s only so much one can fit in a book of this length; the scenes we do get between Meg and Michael illustrate a loving friendship, and the state senator and rich jerk fulfill their functions as bumps in the road well enough.

I highly recommend State v. Claus … and you don’t have to wait until next Christmas to read and enjoy it, since most of the action takes place between holidays!

Book Review: Superman Vs. Wonder Woman

TITLE: Superman Vs. Wonder Woman (Tabloid Edition)

AUTHOR: Gerry Conway, Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez, Dan Adkins, Gaspar Saladino, Jerry Serpe, Joe Orlando

73 pages, DC Comics, ISBN 9781779507204 (hardcover)

DESCRIPTION: Originally published as All-New Collectors’ Edition C-54 by DC Comics in 1977 as a part of their Tabloid-sized run of comics, Superman Vs. Wonder Woman is an “untold epic of World War Two,” pitting these two powerful friends and members of the Justice Society of America not only against each other in an ideological battle over the impending creation of the atomic bomb, but also against Axis super-humans Baron Blitzkrieg and Sumo the Samurai for possession of a prototype.

MY RATING: 4 stars out of 5.

MY THOUGHTS: I still own the original tabloid size comic edition of this (as well as Roy Thomas's 90s Young All-Stars retcon of how the story played out in a continuity in which there was no Superman or Wonder Woman during World War II, but that’s a topic for a different post entirely), but it had been over a decade since I'd last read it, and I'm a sucker for nice hardcover re-issues.

The brighter colors and more pristine paper of this re-issue makes the art really pop. Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez is one of those artists who pretty much defined my early love of DC Comics (along with Dick Dillin on Justice League of America, Kurt Schaffenberger on various Superman Family books and Shazam!, Jim Aparo on The Brave and the Bold, and Neal Adams on Green Lantern/Green Arrow and Batman among many others, but I digress), and this is one of my favorite stories drawn by him.

The story holds up well enough. The requirement that Supes and Wonder Woman had to fight first felt a bit forced to 11-year-old me and still does ... but it gives us a great set piece on the Moon that introduced a "lost city" I'm not sure anyone ever followed up on. The physical fight is thrilling, but there’s also the ideological battle between the adopted American who think the country that raised him can’t be in the wrong and the “princess of peace” who recognizes the full danger of atomic energy. That was heady stuff for an eleven-year-old to wrap his head around. Now fifty-four, I recognize that while the dialogue expressing the heroes’ viewpoints falls into the grandiose style of pronouncements that Conway, Roy Thomas, and others were known for in the 70s, the questions they struggle with (Superman’s almost-unquestioning faith in national leadership, Wonder Woman’s frustration at those same leaders ignoring the devastating uses to which scientific discoveries can be put, and when national pride supersedes common sense) are still with us today.

Baron Blitzkrieg has been one of my favorite villains since his first appearance. This was his second and was quite a few years before Roy Thomas further developed his origin and his history in All-Star Squadron. He personified the ego of the Nazi movement for me for a long time (as odds as he was with the completely ineffectual Nazis of Hogan’s Heroes, one of my favorite television shows as a kid) Sumo the Samurai debuted here and his sense of honor (misguided as it was being tied to his national pride) intrigued me. The fights between Superman, Wonder Woman, Baron Blitzkrieg and Sumo are the artistic highlight of the book for me, Garcia-Lopez’s layouts of large action shots and emotional close-ups keeping the action moving. And I always wished the fight between Blitzkrieg and Sumo had been given a little more room to breathe.

I had forgotten just how little Lois Lane and Steve Trevor are given to do in this one. Given this was 1977, with the Wonder Woman show on TV and the Superman movie about to come out, it feels odd that Lois and Steve are sidelined the way they are. Lois gets a few scenes, but they’re mostly for yelling at or about Clark, and Steve has only one, in which he essentially gaslights Diana over what she did/didn’t see. I also admit I’ve always been disappointed that despite the background art on the front cover, DC’s version of Uncle Sam never appears in the book.

There’s a small continuity mistake that probably didn’t bother eleven-year-old me, but which stands out now. The Earth-2 Clark and Lois would have been working at the Daily Star (not the Daily Planet) in 1941, under editor George Taylor (not Perry White). Not a huge deal, obviously, but one of those things someone at DC at the time (if not editor Orlando, then in-house continuity guru E. Nelson Bridwell at least) should have caught.

This really was a fun trip down nostalgia lane, and makes me want to re-read some of the other tabloid editions from the era (Superman Vs. Muhammad Ali was re-released in hardcover a few years ago, and Superman Vs. Shazam has been reprinted several times (but not in hardcover tabloid format as far as I know). I still own my original copies of Superman Vs. Shazam, Superman and Spider-Man, and Batman Vs. The Hulk. I should dig those out.

Here’s my actual original copy, discoloration and all:

Sunday Shorts: Three from Skelos Issue 4

I love short fiction, and Sunday Shorts is the feature where I get to blog about it. Posts will range from flash to novellas. At some point, I might delve into individual stories/episodes of anthology formats in other media, like television and comics, but for the time being, I’m sticking to prose in print and audio.

The fourth issue of Skelos: The Journal of Weird Fiction and Dark Fantasy came out in late Fall of 2020, and while I haven’t read the entire issue yet, I’d like to throw some attention their way by chatting about the three stories I have read.

“Dreams of Salt” by Cynthia Ward is a lovely bit of Lovecraftiana that moves the Deep Ones aspect of the Mythos back to its Pacific origins (as described in A Shadow Over Innsmouth) but in more recent times (1985). The protagonists are a lesbian couple traveling to Hawaii for one partner’s family reunion. Each woman has family history with ties to the Deep Ones: Abigail Derby, the non-native-Hawaiian half of the pair, recalls her grandmother being called a “fish-woman from Innsmouth.” Nalani Kealoha, her partner, traces her matrilineal family to one of the “forbidden islands” near Hawaii with a questionable history. Abby is also having increasingly vivid bad dreams about swimming through a sunken city towards a large idol. Ward expertly builds the suspense – are Abby’s dreams true visions of her near future? is Nalani’s family history a predictor of her own future? – throughout the story by keeping the focus sharply in Abby’s point-of-view. The reader learn’s Nalani’s family history as Abigail does via conversation at the family reunion. The love these two women share for each other is clearly evident from the start of the story, and so are the differences in their personalities. They are complex people encountering the first real major bump in their relationship after almost 20 years together, and Ward uses the depth of their personalities and relationship to propel the horror and tragedy to a logical conclusion. (No, I won’t spoil the ultimate outcome or the major reveals along the way.)

Charles R. Rutledge’s “Born in Strange Shadow” brings his occult detective Carter Decamp to the legendary tunnels under Copp’s Hill in Boston, although our introduction to the story is via Boston PD Detective Mallory Lee, who catches a late-night call about a lost child found wandering Copp’s Hill Terrace, near the Burying Ground. Lee has a personal interest in cases involving missing or lost children that drives her into the tunnels and a danger she isn’t really ready to deal with. Enter Rutledge’s Carter Decamp, who is as mysterious and secretive as folks like John Constantine and who is not afraid to use mundane weaponry, like rifles, in addition to his supernatural abilities. The very-hard-to-kill ghouls our heroes encounter in the tunnels make for an action-packed story as they set about to solve the problem at its source. Rutledge combines the action with well-written supernatural esoterica and high stakes. Aligning the occult detective with a skeptic is a classic trope that serves this story well, allowing the reader to slowly move into the supernatural aspects of the story. The end of the story implies that this is not Decamp’s only encounter with the strong-willed, open-to-learning Mallory Lee, and I hope to read more adventures of these two in the future.

“Under the Blood” by Darrell Z. Grizzle is a nice piece of rural horror, focusing on two pre-teens and their church’s belief in laying-on-of-hands style healing. The son of the church’s pastor tells the tale, starting with how his friend Billy had managed to bring a possum and a redbird back to life by laying on hands, and how Billy decided to try to bring the church’s Deacon, who had been buried that day, back to life to prove to everyone he had this skill. I don’t want to spoil any of the twists, but this is a horror story so you know things don’t go well. I was pulled into Grizzle’s story by the voice of the narrator, who at times speaks well beyond his years and at other times sounds much younger than he really is; it felt very much like a number of the twelve-year-olds I’ve known. The friendship between the narrator and Billy is also well-detailed throughout, feeling reminiscent of Bradbury, and the horror of the story builds off of the loss of innocence in that friendship as much as the supernatural aspect.

Series Saturday: the Philip Marlowe novels

This is a blog series about … well, series. I love stories that continue across volumes, in whatever form: linked short stories, novels, novellas, television, movies, comics.

In 2019, I realized after several conversations with my friend Dave (our conversations often lead to me identifying something I haven’t read or seen) that I had never read a Philip Marlowe novel (or likely anything else by Raymond Chandler). I mean, I knew who Marlowe was, and I knew Chandler’s influence on the mystery genre overall and noir in particular. So how was it that I could not recall every having read a single Marlowe book? It was time to fix that!

As with so many of the reading and/or viewing challenges I set myself, it took a while for this one to play out. I listened to the first Marlowe novel, The Big Sleep, in late 2019, and then decided to motivate myself by making the Marlowe books a part of my “Complete the Series” Challenge for 2020. I made a game start at the beginning of the year thanks to several long work trips with lots of driving, then dropped the ball until Noirvember when I read the final two books written or co-written by Chandler.

The long gap between the first six books and the final two influenced my experience of the series as a whole. Another influence was experiencing the series in three different forms. I listened to the first two novels narrated by Ray Porter. When I went to purchase book three, I discovered that it was not available with narration by Porter – nor were the rest of the books. That left me with either listening to abridged editions narrated by Elliot Gould or full-cast recording from the BBC starring Toby Stephens. As I really wanted to continue the experience of hearing Chandler’s actual words, I chose the Gould abridged editions. When it came time for book seven? Only the full-cast BBC version was available. I switched to print for the final two books, which partially explains the seven months gap as the last book (started by Chandler but completed after his death by Robert B. Parker) was harder to track down than I expected it to be.

Overall, I loved this series. So much of what Chandler did is consider trope now – but I believe he was the first to do it, or at least the first to do it well enough to influence others.

His characterization of Marlowe – world-weary, introspective, a bit of a horn-dog, chivalrous and chauvinistic in equal measure, aware of his own prejudices and not always able to stop himself from acting on them – set a standard for disgruntled, distrusting protagonists. And the characterization isn’t quite static. In some books, he’s far more introspective and fatalistic while in others he’s just cynical and snarky. (Okay, he’s snarky in every single book. It’s part of his charm.) The heaviest introspective moments, the moments that gave noir its enduring rep, seem to come in the second through fifth books. In the first book, Marlowe is thoughtful but not full-out depressing. In the later books, Marlowe seems to have mellowed a little. He’s still world-weary but he seems to have accepted it and ruminates less on it. Or at least, he spends fewer words ruminating on it.

Chandler’s formula was to have Marlowe take on a case that then connects to one or more other cases. I may be mistaken, but I don’t think he varied from that basic formula throughout the books (and it’s especially evident in the final book, Playback). Most of the time, he’s hired by someone rich who is condescending at best and occasionally downright hostile. And these rich folks usually get some kind of come-uppance even when they’re not the actual bad guy of the story. In terms of the mysteries, Chandler is usually good about providing the reader with enough hints of what’s going on that the reveal doesn’t come out of nowhere. Marlowe’s interactions with the police are always interesting and not always antagonistic (I’d say it’s about 50/50 over the series). It’s also sort of fun trying to figure who Marlowe is going to go to bed with and when (and occasionally even if – he doesn’t always let his hormones win over common sense).

One of the things that did surprise me was how few continuing supporting characters there are. I expected Marlowe’s former boss, introduced in the first book, to appear or at least be mentioned more than once. Likewise, some of the cops; I realize Los Angeles was a big city even in the 1940s and that some of the action rolls outside of LA proper (even down to San Diego and into Mexico), but we rarely see an officer of the law a second time. (Parker does bring one of them back in Poodle Springs, but I have to wonder if Chandler would have done so had he written more than four chapters before passing away). Nowadays, the idea of a detective character without a regular supporting cast, including a regular antagonist of some kind, is unthinkable. Then again, the idea of a series lead without a serious romantic interest is also unthinkable these days, and it’s only in the final three books that we see Marlowe make a serious commitment (even if we don’t realize he’s making the commitment until the end of Playback and the opening of Poodle Springs). I personally thought Anne Riordan from Farewell, My Lovely, had the makings of a perfect non-romantic Girl Friday and would have added a lot to later books.

So how did the various listening/reading formats affect my experience?

I really loved Ray Porter’s interpretation of the character, gruff-voiced but still relatable, and that set the tone for me. He plays with Chandler’s language the way someone who really enjoys lush descriptions does. He’s clearly invested in the role and having fun with it, and every word has appropriate weight. I really wish the entire run was available narrated by Porter (who has narrated a LOT of other stuff, and I’m never disappointed with his work when I get to listen to it).

Elliot Gould is well known for playing Marlowe in 1973’s film version of The Long Goodbye, and he’s a great reader who also really gets the character – but the abridged audiobooks feel rushed. There are no chapter breaks, the action running from one scene to another without the pause such breaks afford the reader. More than once I found myself confused because of contradictory back-to-back statements (it’s midnight, and then suddenly it’s noon, for instance) that a simple intonation of “Chapter Six,” or even a ten second pause, would have broken up. My theory, which I haven’t checked, is that the Gould-narrated books (including the first two, which I didn’t listen to) were recorded at a time when audiobooks were on cassette (and the more cassettes a publisher had to produce, the higher the price) or early CDs (when the discs couldn’t hold as much data as they do now). Then there’s the fact that they’re advertised as “abridged,” which means something deemed inconsequential by someone was removed to make the narration fit into the allotted cassette or CD space. I’m still wondering what I missed by not just reading the actual novels of these five books.

Reading, instead of listening to, Playback and Poodle Springs allowed me to merge the best parts of Porter and Gould’s performances in my head. Although thanks to the cover art on Playback my mental image of Marlowe was Robert Mitchum. (It’s not Mitchum on the cover – it just looks a lot like him.) It felt appropriate to be in the home stretch with Marlowe on my own, turning yellowed pages (one paperback, one hardcover, both from used bookstores) and savoring Chandler’s descriptions of places and people.

I can imagine rereading the entire series one day, especially because I’ll always have that nagging question of what the abridged audiobooks cut out. But for now, I’m glad I finished this challenge this year!

The Marlowe Books, in order, are:

·       The Big Sleep (1939)

·       Farewell, My Lovely (1940)

·       The High Window (1942)

·       The Lady in the Lake (1943)

·       The Little Sister (1949)

·       The Long Goodbye (1953)

·       Playback (1958)

·       Poodle Springs (unfinished by Chandler at his death in 1959; completed by Robert B. Parker in 1989)

Parker did write another sequel completely on his own, which I decided not to include in this particular challenge. And there have been several other Marlowe prequels and sequels in the past few years that sound like they might be worth seeking out.

Book Review: Bad Blood: A Life Without Consequence

TITLE: Bad Blood: A Life Without Consequence

AUTHOR: David B. Roundsley

328 pages, DBR Design, ISBN 9781735377902 (hardcover)

DESCRIPTION: (from Goodreads) "Bad Blood: A Life without Consequence" chronicles one adoptee's search and journey to discover his birth parents and his roots in the new world of DNA testing, data aggregation, and social media. What began with a simple inquiry to hopefully find his biological roots led one adoptee down a rabbit hole of intrigue, secrets, dark deeds, infidelity, and organized crime.

Tracing his birth parents' origins from Detroit, Michigan, and on to their subsequent movements to Southern California, northward to Montana, and then on to Washington, and later to Oregon, he uncovered secrets and exposed many of the lies they told along the way. The trail of abuse and damage led to a man who lived a life without consequence.

A search begun in the early 90's was abandoned but was revived when he caught a TV show on adoption by chance and submitted the information he had to a "Search Angel". This led to the discovery of his birth parents, several half-siblings, infidelities, organized crime, drug use, abuse, and attempted murder.

Both a how-to and a cautionary tale of navigating the world of complex social media hurdles, sifting through massive quantities of data, and dealing with an often unhelpful and obstructive legal system.

MY RATING: 5 stars out of 5.

MY THOUGHTS: This is an absolutely engrossing memoir about adoption, secrets, and the search to understand where we came from and who we are. I found it extremely hard to put down. That’s partially because of the way the book is structured. The reader only becomes privy to information as Roundsley’s original search uncovered it. There are a few hints at the start of the book of what will ultimately be revealed (most but not all of which is noted in the book’s back cover matter) but for the most part we the audience must endure the same staggers and stutters the author did. Long fallow periods are interspersed surges of new leads some of which go nowhere and some of which open new roads of inquiry. This heightens the immediacy of the book and kept me more interested than maybe a straight chronological history of the author’s birth parents would have.

It doesn’t take long for Roundsley (and the reader) to realize his adoption was an unusual one. Or perhaps not so unusual given the time period as it was something “nice” people just didn’t consider a reality: that behind-closed-doors baby-trafficking happened even among “polite” society. As author learns more about his late birth mother’s life and gets closer to meeting his birth father, the stakes start to feel exceedingly high indeed. There are some very, very dark moments in the birth parents’ past, and some of them are uneasy to read about.

But the story is not all crime, drug use, physical abuse, and attempted murder – Roundsley discovers several half-siblings and meets their families. Their parts in the story are equally, if not more, tragic – but the larger family and obvious love these half-siblings develop for each other are a happy ending to such a dark background. Roundsley sprinkles their stories in with his search, even letting one sister take over for a section to reveal her own almost Dickensian history. I do feel as though I intimately know all of the parties involved thanks to Roundsley’s very personal, intimate, and familiar writing style and the way he’s willing to cede the stage to his siblings when the narrative warrants.

Along the way, the author also reveals a bit about his adoptive family and touches on the struggles of being a creative and obviously gay boy in a family that clearly doesn’t accept it. While the adoptive parents and sibling don’t have nearly the tragic life Roundsley’s birth parents did, they still play several key roles in the way the story unfolds. I have to say I’d love to see a second memoir from Roundsley about his later childhood and eventual coming out; I suspect there’s a lot more to that part of his life than he was able to include in this book. He’s also had quite a career in the music industry: he writes and records music as Munich Syndrome, and there is a companion CD to the book. I know there are a lot of compelling stories he could weave together with his coming out to form a second memoir.

Bad Blood: A Life Without Consequence is available for Pre-Order in Kindle form on Amazon if you missed the Kickstarter for the project.