Writing in the Dark

New York, New York!

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 02:08:00 +0000

It's been an adventurous week!

No time to write about Vertigo, unfortunately--gotta save it for next time. I haven't had much time to do anything but work on some deadlines for the website relaunch, which we wanted to have happen before Thrillerfest, but looks like will happen the week after. And speaking of Thrillerfest ...

New York awaits! The conference is always exciting, and it's in the most exciting city on the planet, so ... I'm gearing up. Meetings. Parties. Panels. Non-stop, "city that never sleeps" fun! I leave early Wednesday, and will probably not be back to my Writing in the Dark post until the following week, though I'm hoping to squeeze in a blog or a tweet or two.

What else? Well, we just got word that the Greek rights to NOX DORMIENDA have been sold, so Roman Noir will be available in Athens and all over the remarkably beautiful country of Hellas.

I'm a bit emotional over the fact that my first foreign rights sales have been Italy and Greece--the foundations of western civilization, the countries and cultures I've spent so much time in, physically and mentally. From my first D'Aulaire's Greek Mythology (checked out of a Tallahassee, Florida library when I was in the second grade), to now seeing my first book published in modern Greek ... it's like an affirmation. Efcharisto!

Friday was photoshoot day ... we need new head shots for CITY OF DRAGONS, so ventured to the sunny side of the Bay and Berkeley, over to Lisa Keating, photographer extraordinaire. Lisa makes you feel immediately comfortable, in a beautiful, airy, naturally lit studio, complete with a black lab named Happy, who makes you feel exactly that.

Despite a TV movie-like mishap--my dry cleaner didn't give me my entire order, and so I arrived in Berkeley without a shirt and had to fight through horrendous 4th of July traffic to get back to San Francisco and then turned immediately around so I could make it back to Berkeley in time--the shoot was a dream, and makeup artist Tricia Turner and Lisa just the best people anyone--particuarly writers with nerves--could ever hope to work with!! I can't wait for the photos ... and yes, I wore one of my fedoras. :)

Today was Sunday Breakfast with Friends time, a wonderful opportunity to see pals and brilliant writers Laura Benedict (who lives in Illinois, so I never see her enough) and Sophie Littlefield (who lives in the Bay Area, but whom I still don't see enough!) We had an old-fashioned breakfast at an old-fashioned restaurant and I only wish I could spend more Sundays doing this ...

So, until next time, thanks for reading Writing in the Dark, thanks for checking out our new grog Criminal Minds, and I will do my best to convey some of the madness, fun, and exultation of Thrillerfest in New York!

For the Love of Chrysler ...

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 00:46:00 +0000

I'm a big believer in serendipity. You know, those chance encounters and opportunities that come your way and (as long as you're not actually starring in a noir) can lead to fabulous fun.

As a writer, I like to let serendipity guide me sometimes, through plot points and character development ... and this weekend, a bit of research fell into my life the same way.

I was in Tiburon Saturday--one of Marin County's most beautiful towns--visiting my brilliant and wonderful agent. And it just so happens that Tiburon was hosting a one day Classic Auto festival at the same time.

Now, I love classic cars--you know, when American cars were truly special, built to last, and featured rumble seats or (a bit later) some truly amazing fin work.
These cars are wonders of engineering, and at the Tiburon show, many were lovingly restored or sported full ownership histories posted on the window.

An event like this gives me the chance to really develop a feel for a period car model--a tremendous research opportunity for my 1940 series ...

I'm not in Tiburon very often, but last year, when I was writing CITY OF DRAGONS, I happened to stumble in to Tiburon on another warm day. And--you guessed it--they were hosting the very same car show. The odds of me being in Tiburon on the day they host a day-long annual car show--twice, in consecutive years--well, that's just serendipity for you.

Of course, inspiration struck. I'll be starting the sequel to CITY OF DRAGONS very soon, and it was both lucky and wonderful, lighting upon the chance to see

a glorious 1940 Packard Station Wagon (Wood Sides)

Or a 1940 Cadillac Convertible

Or Gertie, a 1939 Chevrolet "Master Deluxe Business Coupe"

Or a 1934 Pontiac

... or even a 1918 Pierce Arrow.

What car was my favorite? Well, I love the rumble seated 1934 Pontiac ...

but I liked the idea of driving this 1967 Jaguar convertible.

In a word ... classic. And serendipitous!! :)

BTW, we launched Criminal Minds, our group blog and virtual panel, last week--and traffic has been brisk! Come by and comment in the month of June, and you could win a $50 Independent Mystery Booksellers Association member gift certificate, a $50 Barnes and Noble, and signed copies of our books! I post on Thursdays.

Back soon, with photos of San Juan Bautista ... and a talk about Vertigo.

Cover Love

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 02:56:00 +0000

It's been an eventful few days! Ever feel like the days pass too quickly for you to grab--that they blend and weave, and before you know it a week has gone ahead of you? Yup. Just happened to me. Here's why:

Last week, I finished revisions to MALEDICTUS, and the manuscript is now with my wonderful agent. First step on the road to seeing my first series picked up and moving ahead--complete!

I posted my first Noir Bar column for Pop Syndicate ... on Gilda, naturally. Who wouldn't want to launch a project with Rita Hayworth and Glenn Ford? I'll be writing these columns once a month, and liberally sprinkling Writing in the Dark with a few noir reviews, too.

Thursday was my birthday. According to astrologers, this is a "Solar Return" year--the sun was in the same spot in the sky as it was when I was born (lo, those many years ago!). My mom visited; we took a trip in pilgrimage down to San Juan Bautista and its mission, where Hitchcock filmed Vertigo. I'll post pictures from the trip in a later post on why Jimmy Stewart's character is so creepy.

What else? Ate garlic ice cream in Gilroy, the Garlic Capital of the World. Yeah, I know it's weird, but what else are you going to do on a warm June day in Gilroy? We ate fresh farm cherries, too, Ranier and Bing, and bought a pack of the largest, freshest and most delicious strawberries I've ever tasted ... organic and locally grown in Watsonville.

These are a few of the reasons I live in California ... the produce can be worth the insanity. ;)

Took a trip to Chinatown, shot some photos for the new website, which is coming very soon. I can't wait!

We launched a grog--that's a group blog, but you already knew that--on Monday. Criminal Minds is a brainchild (actually a dreamchild) of mine, and it's really special to see it come to fruition and so successfully. But with a lineup that includes CJ Lyons, Rebecca Cantrell, Sophie Littlefield, Shane Gericke, Tim Maleeny and Gabriella Herkert, you know it will be fun, fascinating and never a dull moment. :) Check us out--I post on Thursdays (it's the Thursday Child thing).

Today, Becky Cantrell and I were visiting authors over on the fabulous Barnes and Noble Mystery Book Club. You can check out the conversation and see how we harass one another. ;)

Last--but not certainly not least--I received my CITY OF DRAGONS cover yesterday ...

Wow.

It's sublime--haunting--beautiful. Thrilling!! All the things I want my book to be.

David Rotstein is a Senior Art Director at St. Martin's and a design genius. He's nominated three times over for an Anthony this year, and the breadth and depth of his work is amazing. I feel like I've won the Lotto, or beat James Bond at baccarat! Like I made a movie, and got Saul Bass to do the titles. I'm just humbled by this gorgeous, gorgeous work, and dancing the happy dance of cover love. :)

What's next? Preparation for Thrillerfest in NYC, where I'll be a Panel Master with a great team and a great topic: Now What? Keeping Readers Turning the Pages. The panelists are James Scott Bell, Robert Ellis, Heywood Gould, Steven James and Charlie Newton.

Much work ahead on the website. New postcards, new bookmarks. Preparation for a Litquake Fundraiser in San Francisco later in July that's going to be a lot of fun!

And always back to the cover. I stare ... and I smile. Louise Ure , one of the wisest women I know (and a supreme talent in crime fiction), is so right--a cover like this makes you want to get everything color coordinated. Figure on seeing me in some gorgeous browns and warm tones next year, with a splash of red!

Meanwhile ... have a wonderful week, and as always ... thanks for reading! :)

Marathon!

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 01:03:00 +0000

This is late and will be briefer than normal ... especially for me ... but for all good reasons!

I'm on several deadlines at the moment, leading up to Thrillerfest in New York. I've been running so hard, I'm getting flashbacks of Marathon Man and Logan's Run! (Reminds me ... I've got to make a dentist appointment).

So not much time left over for anything interesting, and I didn't think zzzz made for a good blog post. ;)

I'm also not writing much in the Dark this week because I've been working hard over a grog dream come true! No, silly, not the grog you drink, the grog you band together to save the world with! No, wait, that's the Justice League. Well, a group blog, anyway ... and I literally dreamed of it about a year ago.

It's a very special grog ... more like a virtual conference panel! Seven crime fiction authors in a variety of subgenres will be answering questions every week about all kinds of things--the writing process, crime, life, etc. We hope YOU will send us in questions you would like to read ruminations about!

We call it Criminal Minds, and we're launching on June 15th. Next week, you'll be able to read about us and find out just how criminal our minds are. Then the 15th starts the panel rolling, with a new question to follow every week.

We're also giving away prizes for the first month--signed books, gift certificates. So if you're a fan of Writing in the Dark, please stop by!

I'll also be appearing soon at Pop Syndicate, a terrific website about everything pop culture. Pony up to the Noir Bar, my monthly column ... we'll be dishing about--what else? film noir. Gilda, my personal favorite, is what we start with. Over virtual cocktails, too! I'll still post noir reviews at Writing in the Dark when the mood strikes, and Pop Syndicate will give me the chance to wax eloquent in a comfortable speakeasy setting. No such thing as too much noir!

So I'll see you next week ... gotta go finish that marathon! And thanks for reading! :)

Liberty for All

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Tue, 26 May 2009 00:02:00 +0000

It's been an eventful few days!

Last week I received my ISBN number for CITY OF DRAGONS, an occasion for much celebration--which I did as a guest blogger on Working Stiffs, through the generosity of the wonderful Joyce Tremel and other friends on that fabulous grog.

My friend Rebecca Cantrell is in town to launch her extraordinary novel, A TRACE OF SMOKE ... we were the literary salon guests of one of the most wonderful and fascinating people in a wonderful and fascinating business, Mystery Readers International founder (and chocolate lover) Janet Rudolph .

Becky had a SRO launch party at one of my favorite places, M is for Mystery--and if you haven't had a chance to pick up her book, you should. Historical noir at its finest--and at its darkest (the setting is 1931 Berlin).

And I've been chugging away at various deadlines, editorial and non-editorial, with nary a moment left over for noirish indulgence. But soon, soon ... particularly as I'll be blogging over on Pop Syndicate about my favorite film noir flickers.

Today, however, I want to talk about Memorial Day and San Francisco.

Beyond the normal tourist sensations of Fisherman's Wharf--the ode to consumerism that is Pier 39, the gimmicky restaurants, the cheap t-shirts, the always-real and welcome barks of the sea lions and smell of sourdough bread--behind the wizard's curtain is another chapter of The City's history.

I'm talking Pier 45.

Just a short stroll down a working pier--yet miles away from the silver men and the keyboard players in the parking lot--is the Jeremiah O'Brien. One of two remaining fully-functional Liberty ships surviving from World War II.

She shares the berth with the U.S.S. Pampanito, a valiant WWII era submarine that has been preserved under the auspices of the National Park Service: the San Francisco National Maritime Park Association, to be exact.

The Jeremiah, though, isn't part of the park. It stays afloat--and takes full-throttle cruises, particuarly during Fleet Week and for special commemorative occasions like the anniversary of D-Day--solely through memberships and volunteers.

Think of it! A living, breathing, working ship, one of only two remaining of 2,710 built--iron and steel, history in the water. And all through the tireless efforts of volunteers who love her, who maintain her, and who make sure that the Jeremiah will live over Memorial Days past counting.

I've had the honor of sailing on her--for the 60th anniversary of D-Day. And while most of the world knows her--if they know her at all--from the engine room of James Cameron's Titanic (yup, she doubled for the tragic White Star liner), her legacy, her courage, and what she stands for touches us all.

The Jeremiah O'Brien is a Liberty ship. She is the last unaltered example of her kind. A floating museum of a war that was not predetermined, that was not a foregone conclusion. She and her sister ships ferried supplies and cargo to the front lines, and were a core part of the lend-lease program to Britain before the US joined the war. Roosevelt said this class of quickly built and aesthetically plain ships would bring liberty to Europe. And so they did.

In 1994, the Jeremiah O'Brien journeyed from San Francisco to the beaches of Normandy, revisiting her part in Operation Overlord. She was the only large ship to return for the 50th anniversary.

If you ever have a chance to see her, I hope you do. She--and the Pampanito--are floating Memorial Days, 365 days a year.

Next: More film, more San Francisco and more news!

Climbing the Noir Walls

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Wed, 13 May 2009 00:56:00 +0000

"Murder! Infidelity! Brain damage!"

That could've been the tagline for the MGM (yes, they made dark stuff too, not just glossy musicals) noir High Wall (1947).

Y'see, High Wall is a terrific example one of a fascinating film subgenre ... the damaged vet/re-establish life and family noir, sometimes with amnesia thrown in as a sideline (others include The Crooked Way (1949), The Blue Dahlia (1946), Somewhere in the Night (1946), and last week's Cornered (1945)).

Amnesia was a staple of films, particularly with war veteran heroes -- check out Random Harvest (1942) for a quintessential example--but in the hands of the noir masters, these films weren't about amnesia as much as they were about wiping the slate clean.

Think about it: after the cataclysm and upheaval of the world's biggest and bloodiest conflict--one that forever reshaped this country, overthrew Empires and remade the Superpowers--redefining one's place in the New World Order was imperative ... and frightening. Dramas like William Wyler's The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)--which certainly possessed a few noirish touches--helped reestablish normalcy in a forever changed and abnormal world. But noir ... well, it tackled the anxiety head on.

Wartime marriage? Afraid you married a slut? Get in line, bub. Having trouble sleeping? Nightmares? Head injury? We know just how you feel. And thanks to the era's fascination with and confidence in psychiatry, we've got a cure, too, and she sometimes looks like Ingrid Bergman (Spellbound, 1945) or Audrey Totter (High Wall).

These films said it was OK if you got hurt and you can't remember and nothing is what it seemed like in 1942. They said it was OK if you married in haste and she's been cheating on you with a black market 4-F. Don't murder the bimbo--just divorce her and move on to Veronica Lake. The films typically offered cures, either through therapy or a dame or both, and ended with the vet establishing a new family, location in a dislocated environment.

And that brings us to High Wall. Directed by the under-appreciated Curtis Bernhardt (Conflict (1945) Juke Girl (1942) and Possessed (1947)), it stars Robert Taylor as a brain damaged flier who suffers black-outs ... and who has apparently strangled his greedy, adulterous wife (Dorothy Patrick). Enter Audrey Totter, in a rare non-femme fatale role, as devoted and caring psychiatrist Dr. Ann Lorrison, who treats Taylor while he's locked up in the looney bin. The once sleek and sophisticated Herbert Marshall plays the bimbo's boss (he's a publisher of a religious books) with a certain degree of both debauchery and pathos, and even H.B. Warner (It's A Wonderful Life, 1946) shows up in a small role.

Taylor turns in an able performance, proving he was more than just a pretty face. Like John Payne and Dick Powell, who made successful second careers playing tough guys in noirs, his film roles had been light comedies or romantic melodramas like Camille (1937), and High Wall gives him something sturdier.

Totter, however, steals the show--as she usually did. And this time without being the bad girl! Paul Vogel's stunning cinematography (he filmed the Chandler adaptation Lady in the Lake (1947), also with Totter, and a little gem with Marsha Hunt and Van Heflin called Kid Glove Killer, 1942) makes me wish he shot more noir and less films like Jupiter's Darling (1955).

Sydney Boehm worked on the script, which is crisp and fast-paced, if not at the deliriously baroque levels of his masterpiece, The Big Heat (1953). He later wrote Rogue Cop (1954), another noir vehicle for Taylor.

All in all, High Wall is a terrific film, and a magnifying glass on the very real anxieties and social issues of the immediate post-war era. Unfortunately, you can't find it on DVD, but watch for it on TCM or try The Danger and Despair Knitting Circle, the best source for noir on the planet. So ... what have you been watching lately? ;)

A Forgotten Corner

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Wed, 06 May 2009 01:23:00 +0000

Before I talk about Cornered, a little-known Dick Powell noir, I need to confess. I'm not in a very noirish mood.

NOX DORMIENDA was just nominated for a Macavity Award--the Sue Feder Memorial Historical Mystery Award--and, well, I'm happy. Joyful. Surprised and shocked and ecstatic and humbled! More like a Busby Berkeley musical than the mean black and white streets.

It's a wonderful honor to be in company with fellow nominees Rhys Bowen, David Liss, Jeri Westerson, Karen Maitland and Ward Larsen. Thank you, Mystery Readers International!! So I'll do my hardboiled best, but if I suddenly start sounding like Mickey Rooney about to put on a show in a barn, you'll know why!

Now, then (clearing throat). Cornered. 1945. Directed by Edward Dmytryk, the man who helmed Dick Powell's arguably greatest noir role (as Philip Marlowe) in Murder, My Sweet. Produced by Adrian Scott, producer of that earlier film. Unlike MMS, though, Powell is not a professional gumshoe--actually, THE professional gumshoe--but rather a luckless Canadian airman, just demobbed from the War ... out to discover who ordered the murder of his young wife, a member of the French resistance. Along the way, the film reminds the world that fascism didn't end with the War.

If you think Powell is too glib, too shiny, too pat, try this movie. He's got some glib moments--that's the script, and he is still Dick Powell--but the emotional darkness of the film will surprise you.

There is a host of films--and a subset of noirs--that deal with post-War issues, particularly lost relationships. From amnesiac war veteran noir (The Crooked Way, 1949) to the "I married a dame who turned out to be a slut" variety (Chandler's own The Blue Dahlia, 1946), to the excellent High Wall (1947), which is a combination of the two, noir was a cultural lens through which society could face the downside of hasty wartime unions ... and help redefine family for the burgeoning conservatism of the Ike years.

Cornered is unusual in showing a tragic loss--from the GI's perspective. And Powell is quite convincing with the pain he displays in Dmytryk's raw, fast-paced opening scenes.

The setting quickly switches to Argentina--even before the war, a hot bed of fascism. Powell is in Buenos Aires to track down a mysterious German agent whose rumored death was just that ... and who also gave the order to murder Powell's wife. That, as they say, makes it personal.

Walter Slezak lives up to his delightful name in a scene-stealing turn as a sleazy, sneaky peddlar of information. Morris Carnovsky (Dead Reckoning (1947), Thieves' Highway (1949)) is a fascist-fighting lawyer ... before the end of the movie, Powell will need him. Nina Vale is fetching in an Audrey Totter role, and even Jack LaRue (The Story of Temple Drake, 1933) has a memorable part to play. French actress Micheline Cheirel plays a semi-romantic interest--Powell is too broken up over his wife to really pursue her--and carries it off well-enough to make me wish she'd made more films. Even Luther Adler, John Garfield's former theater partner, (D.O.A., 1950) glowers and glimmers in powerful turn.

The script is juicy (uncredited Ben Hecht, credited John Paxton, who penned Murder, My Sweet (1944)), the direction taut, and the cinematography essential, moody noir (cinematographer Harry J. Wild filmed MMS, Pitfall (1948) and other classics.) Unfortunately, Cornered isn't available on DVD, so you'll have to look for it on TCM ... but rest assured, if you liked Murder, My Sweet you should like Cornered. It's worth the wait.

BTW ... Scott, Dmytryk, Carnovsky and Adler were all blacklisted. Dmytryk famously caved in to pressure after spending a few months in jail, and wound up naming names. Anti-fascism in the McCarthy era was synonymous with Communism ... a sad and ironic commentary that makes Cornered more of a noir than it intended.

I'll be blogging over on the Thrillerfest blog on Friday, guesting on Working Stiffs on the 22nd, and starting a regular film noir column at Pop Syndicate in June ... so stop in and pour yourself a drink. :)

Next time: I can't decide between Vertigo or High Wall. I may flip a coin ... but not from the tower at San Juan Bautista!

City of Angels, City of Books

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 04:12:00 +0000

I love L.A.

I know as a San Francisco resident I'm not supposed to express my deep enthusiasm for our warm, sunny, and friendly neighbor to the south, but really ... the Bay Area needs to get over it.

I enjoy driving here--California's bounty of beauty is showcased by the venerable and bell-lined Highway 101, extra hour of driving be damned. I enjoy staying here, particularly in one of my favorite hotels in the world, the historic Culver Hotel overlooking Culver Studios (formerly Desilu, formerly RKO, formerly Selznick).

Hollywood history doesn't get richer than that, and hospitality doesn't come better than what you find at the family-owned Culver Hotel (neither does the scrumptious food, prepared in house by a supremely creative chef).

I've been here since Friday-- we drove down for the LA Times Festival of Books, ready to celebrate the sale of Italian rights for NOX DORMIENDA this week (coming soon in a mass market paperback edition in Italia!).

Friday night brought a fabulous party at one of the best bookstores in the world, The Mystery Bookstore in Westwood. I saw friends, met new ones, ran into the wonderful San Francisco PI writer, Chandler fan and Richard Avedon of the crime writing community, Mark Coggins, whom it's a honor to be snapped by, and partied with pals Susan Arnout Smith, Cornelia Read, Jeri Westerson, Louise Ure, Sue Ann Jaffarian, and a lot of other colleagues--here's the complete list, courtesy of the Mystery Bookstore:

Shilpa Agarwal, Brett Battles, James Scott Bell, Cara Black, Marc Blatte, Carol Higgins Clark, Mary Higgins Clark, Dianne Emley, Tom Epperson, Christa Faust, David Fuller, Michelle Gagnon, Victor Gischler, Lee Goldberg, Chris Grabenstein, Robert Greer, Denise Hamilton, Naomi Hirahara, Gregg Hurwitz, Sue Ann Jaffarian, Craig Johnson, Leslie Klinger, John Lescroart, Paul Levine, Sheila Lowe, Lisa Lutz, Robert Masello, George Mastras, T. Jefferson Parker, Gary Phillips, William Rabkin, Cornelia Read, Patricia Smiley, Susan Arnout Smith, Mark Haskell Smith, Eric Stone, Kelli Stanley, Louise Ure, Sarah Weinman, Jeri Westerson, John Morgan Wilson and Edward Wright!

Saturday we visited two of the outstanding stores in the area, Book 'Em Mysteries in South Pasadena and Vroman's in Pasadena, found some gorgeous vintage jewelry at a thrift shop, and played tourist on Hollywood Boulvard at Grauman's Chinese Theater, where I literally stood in Humphrey Bogart's footsteps.

Today was Festival day ... and it was overwhelming. First, the UCLA campus is breathtaking. And then ... Booths! Tents! Pavilions! Sugar-coated almonds! Flyers shoved at you from all directions! And, most importantly ... books. Books, books, everywhere. Hardcovers, softcovers, first editions, antiquarian, brand-spanking new. LA must be one of the most literate places in America, judging from the amount of people flocking to this incredible and amazing festival.

I visited with my Sisters in Crime, where I ran into friends and chatted with other authors; I dropped by the wonderful Mysterious Galaxy, San Diego's superlative specialty bookstore; and I signed at The Mystery Bookstore with Edgar nominees Tom Epperson and David Fuller, Lefty nominee, funny lady and friend Sue Ann Jaffarian, and as-sweet-as-her-books Joanne Fluke, who brought cream puffs for all.

All in all, an amazing adventure, one I can't wait to repeat next year when RICE BOWL launches. I love fog, but sunshine, blue skies, and good books make for a true Dream Factory.

Back soon with photos from the Festival and the road, as well as the promised review of Dick Powell's Cornered.

State of What?

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 02:33:00 +0000

So what do you do when you need to get your brakes fixed, and you don't want to rent a car?

You go to the movies.

Yesterday, we faced the choice of: 1) watching sitcoms that should never have seen the light of day, let alone syndication, while sitting in a dismal waiting room on hard, puce colored plastic chairs and breathing in the smell of rubber; or 2), going to Century Theater in the mall (despite moral objections to the idea of movies in malls) and trying to find something worth seeing.

Fortunately, there was an offering without either Zac Efron or Miley Cyrus (or Billy Ray) ...
And that's how I came to see State of Play on its opening weekend.

What did I think? Well, know going in that I adore Russell Crowe. I think he's the finest actor of his generation. I like Ben Affleck--I thought he was actually quite good in Hollywoodland. Robin Wright Penn was affecting and fine in a small role. And I worship at the altar of Helen Mirren, who has more sex appeal in her little toe than the twenty-somethings haunting the paparazzi rags.

I found the acting terrific--particularly a turn by Jason Bateman that should net him a Best Supporting Actor nod. I thought the direction riveting and superbly paced, the editing quintessentially suspenseful. And the overall plot--which focuses on why we need honest to God newspaper people, journalists with ink under their fingersnails and Scotch in their desk drawers--to be provocative, timely and important.

Themes like journalism, dying newspapers, political hypocrisy (especially about sex, infidelity and any other issue that used to be considered private back in the day when privacy actually existed--i.e. before other people's mobile phone conversations became commuter entertainment) ... and the very real and very scary use of private companies to fight wars, companies that make war to make a profit ... well, all of this was intelligent and plausibly presented.

But.

The actual plot didn't make sense. Mick LaSalle, SF Chronicle critic, loved the film up until the end, then lambasted the filmmakers and the writers for leaving us with a nonsensical "thrilling" ending that violated logic and characterization left and right. And ya know ... I gotta agree with him. I disagree, though, that it was All the President's Men up until that point. Despite some wit in the dialog, I thought there were too many Evel Knieval leaps of faith and logic, too many loose ends, too many undeveloped character threads that were never answered (even badly).

Part of the problem is that the film was a condensation of a six-hour BBC mini-series. Part of the problem was that it looked like the filmmakers changed their minds about a particular character half-way through the movie. Part of the problem is that we're supposed to believe that Ben and Russell were roommates (and the same age as Robin Wright Penn), when Russell and Robin are clearly much older than Affleck, despite some grey added to his temples.

All in all, the film really was a thrill ride in terms of edge-of-your-seat direction, and expressed the best intentions in the world. But as a writer, I felt like it was also a three shell trick to hide a faulty plot. And I still don't understand the title.

But hallelujah for one thing--it sang the praises of newspapers. Watch the end credits--which brillantly illustrate the path from the reporter's computer to your neighborhood delivery of The Times, The Post, The Chronicle. And making journalists heroic--no matter how imperfect the vehicle--is always, always a worthy endeavor.

Next week: a look at a terrific noir with Dick Powell at his most hard-boiled: Cornered. Plus, I'll be in Los Angeles for the Los Angeles Times Festival of the Book, signing on Sunday at 1 PM with The Mystery Book Store. Come by Booth #411 and say hi!

Of Stamps and Stars

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 00:26:00 +0000

The US Post Office is an embarrassment of riches these days. Edgar Allen Poe (finally, a genre writer gets respect!) and the next in the classic actor series (subtitled "Turner Classic Movies--the Reason I Subscribe to Cable"). I rushed right out and bought my Bette Davis stamp. The one sheet is young Bette from Jezebel, the stamp itself the more mature Bette as Margo Channing (arguably her greatest role).

Thinking about Bette, of course, made me think about Joan Crawford. The two were serious rivals, on and off the screen. Both superb actresses--though, in my opinion, Joan was the more naturalistic of the two, more suited to film, and far less mannered. I like both. You can, you know ... this isn't a "John or Paul" kind of thing.

Anyway, in the few minutes I carve out every week for thinking about absolutely nothing important (crucial for a writer--it's like clearing the cache on your browser), it occurred to me that Joan will probably never get a stamp. And that's tragic. If Bette gets one, Joan should get one, Mommie Dearest be damned. The world needs to get over Faye Dunaway's wire hangers.

Case in point ... a bizarre film called Johnny Guitar (1954). Two fifths western, one fifth Douglas Sirk melodrama, and two fifths noir, it's what's known as a camp classic, but deserves to be taken seriously. Hey, anything directed by Nicholas Ray, the man who gave us one of the greatest noirs of all time--In a Lonely Place--and helped define the genre with They Live by Night--and was married to the indisputable Queen of Noir, Gloria Grahame--well, let's just say he's the Black Amex of noir cred.

Gender is the main theme of Johnny Guitar, though apparently Ray was also trying to create a metaphor for the lynch mob mentality of the Witch Hunt (best evoked in the noir film The Sound of Fury, aka Try and Get Me). The final shoot-out--and really, all the enmity in the movie--is between two women, the saloon-owning bad girl with the heart of gold, Vienna, who only wants to hold on to her palace long enough for the railroad to come through and make her rich (so she can forget all the men she had to bed in order to pay for the building) -- and Emma Small, played with demonic glee by Mercedes McCambridge (best known for voicing Satan in The Exorcist).

Joan wears pants and guns and early on is described by one of her male hirelings (and this was before The Catwoman and her male hirelings on Batman) as making him feel like she was more of a man than he was, or words to that effect. But when former gunslinger/lover and now musician, Johnny Guitar (Sterling Hayden) shows up, flames rekindle, and Joan starts wearing dresses ... at least until she has to face down Mercedes, who is out to string her up.

There are some juicy lines in this amazing mish-mash ... when Emma leads a gang of men (including the usually virile Ward Bond), trying to get them to attack Vienna, Joan faces them down on a stairway ... just her and a revolver.
Emma (shrill): "You're nothing but a railroad tramp! ... You can't kill us all."
Vienna (Crawford raises an eyebrow, smirks as her lips turn downward): "Two will do."

Mercedes is waaay over the top here, and leaves no doubt as to the sexual basis of her animosity. Whenever she gets a chance to do Joan wrong, she gets as orgasmic as it was possible to be in 1954. The script suggests that it is jealousy over a rather lacklustre ne'er do well, named the Dancing Kid (yeah, no one had real names in the Wild West), who's got the hots for Vienna and not the shrimpy Emma Small.

But really ... everything about her performance and the film suggests that it is Vienna she loves/hates, not the Dancing Kid. And interestingly, Mercedes went on to co-star in Giant, where she played Luz, a decidedly epicene character (Adarene Clinch: Why Luz, everybody in this county knows you'd rather herd cattle than make love. Luz: Well, there's one thing you got to say for cattle... boy, you put your brand on one of them, you're gonna know where it's at!), and later gave a memorable turn as another androgynous threat to womenkind in Touch of Evil, where she menaces Janet Leigh.

I'm sure there have been dissertations written about Johnny Guitar, but above all, it's entertainment ... with John Carradine and Ernest Borgnine in memorable roles, what's not to like? And though apparently Joan was going through rough times when she made this movie--and literally fought with Mercedes behind the scenes--her performance in this, one of the strangest films of a strange decade, is but one example of why she should get her own stamp.

Hey USPS ... you listening?

I'm getting ready for the Los Angeles Times Festival of the Book at the end of the month ... but will be back next week with more noir ... in between deadlines. :)

Agricultural Noir

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 00:07:00 +0000

Today is Cesar Chavez day, a state holiday in California, where our Golden State bounty still depends on migrant farm workers, willing to do the back-breaking work of gathering lettuce and hand-picking tomatoes for urban and suburban dining tables.

Now, film noir has always tackled serious issues ... from antisemitism (Crossfire) to rampant materialism (The Prowler), it's embraced themes bigger budgets wouldn't touch (and thereby earned some of the genre's best writers and directors a spot on the McCarthy-era blacklist).

So if you've already seen The Grapes of Wrath--surely one of the most elegiac films ever made--and you're not close enough to drive to Salinas and the John Steinbeck Center--you might want to consider watching an actual agricultural noir in honor of farm workers.

First choice is 1949's Thieves' Highway, which I've blogged about before. Richard Conte, Valentina Cortese, Lee J. Cobb ... and magnifcently directed by the brilliant Jules Dassin, whom we lost just last year. This film is one of my favorite twenty-five noirs of all time ... and written by the equally brilliant A.I. "Buzz" Bezzerides, who also penned Kiss Me Deadly and They Drive By Night, among other classics. Renowned for its realistic depiction of the produce market in San Francisco, this film will never let you look at apples the same way again.

I'd also recommend Border Incident (also 1949) with George Murphy, Howard da Silva and Ricardo Montalban, also previously discussed and readily available on DVD ... it will never let you look at threshers the same way again, either.

But for those of you who look for the truly esoteric ... which would probably include everyone reading this ... try to find Juke Girl (1942), the noir I mentioned last week. It's the oddest, most bizarre little film I've seen in years, and not the least so because it stars Ronald Reagan as a rabble-rousing farm/unionist/cooperative worker fighting a corrupt business monopoly.

Yeah. I know. I remember the '80s, too. But this was Reagan's flirtation with leftist politics, pre agro-business. The script, not coincidentally, was also written by Bezzerides (his first film credit), and reads like a poor man's (make that a very poor man's) version of Thieves' Highway.

Ann Sheridan, George Tobias, Gene Lockhart and Howard da Silva round out the noir cred cast ... though its cred was never in question with me because it came recommended by Eddie Muller. I finally caught it on TCM when it aired a few weeks ago. Ably directed by Curtis Bernhardt (an under-appreciated stylist of noirs Conflict, Possessed and The High Wall), the relentlessly swing-filled score--which continues to jump, jive and wail even in dramatic moments--will make you scratch your head in wonder, when you're not wondering at Reagan as a leftist farmer.

So tonight--when you're digging into some organic greens or slicing a cherry tomato--think about the people who helped get it there, and kick back and watch a noir.

With fresh produce and lines like this: "Look bud, every time a freight train shakes itself fleas like you come hopping out" ... you won't go hungry.

Sisterhood in the Blogosphere!

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 22:55:00 +0000

I was delighted and honored to get a Sisterhood Award nomination from PK the Bookeemonster and her wonderful, always insightful blog!

Herewith are my nominees (wonder women all), and the directions:

IF YOU ARE A NOMINEE, PLEASE GO AHEAD AND....
1. Put the logo on your blog or post.
2. Nominate up to 10 blogs which show great attitude and/or gratitude!
3. Be sure to link to your nominees within your post.
4. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
5. Remember to link to the person from whom you received your award.

And the nominees are:

1. Laura Benedict's Notes from the Handbasket (a fascinating blog, stunning writer, and dear friend)

2. Linda L. Richards (fellow Deco-loving pal from the NW, and a great writer and journalist)

3. Sophie Littlefield's Can't Stop, Won't Stop (good friend and debut novelist--watch for her terrific BAD DAY FOR SORRY, coming out in August)

4. Kaye Barley's Meanderings and Musings (a graceful, lovely presence wherever she is, with a blog to match!)

5. BookBitch (one of the best thriller/mystery review sites around--thanks, Stacy!!)

6. Becky LeJeune's No More Grumpy Bookseller (Becky is a fabulous reviewer and speed reader!)

7. Jungle Red Writers (amazing writers and amazing women all)

8. Working Stiffs (always fun and interesting, and a truly great community)

9. Poe's Deadly Daughters (the name says it all!! another wonderful group of writers)

10. Sarah Weinman's brilliant, must-read blog for all crime fiction news and observations, Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind.

Next post, a crazy little noir starring Ronald Reagan as a farm worker organizer, fighting corrupt monopolies in the burgeoning agro-business of 1942. Yeah, you heard me. It's called JUKE GIRL, and features Ann Sheridan in the titular role.

BTW--March 26th is the anniversary of Raymond Chandler's death. If you love crime fiction, remember the master with a nod of your fedora.

Mahalo Morning

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 01:58:00 +0000

The last few days have been blurry. Of course, it could be that I need a new eye prescription, but I don't think so.

Hawaii lingers on the mind, the odor of plumeria and tropical breeze, the song and raucous cries of mynah birds. Black earth, white coral, both scorched by the sun, but gently ... gently.

Wednesday morning I woke up and stared out at the view from my room lanai ... the mountains in the distance, the palm trees--somehow more fragile there than in California--waving against a bluing sky.

A little later, I ate breakfast--how I miss the papaya!--and attended the awards brunch, loving Lee Goldberg's humor and Rhys Bowen's wonderful version of "I'm Evil" (she's also a fabulous singer!) and Barry Eisler's story about taking a long, hard fall in Japan. And jumped up with everyone, cheering on Bill and Toby Gottfried to a so well-deserved standing ovation. Then my world erupted into a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and absolute wonderment.

I was, and am, immensely honored at my nomination, and so proud to be listed among writers whom I admire so much as artists and people and friends. I can't really remember anything except the kaleidoscope and somehow making it to the stairway of the podium (thanks to the kind souls in the audience who were shouting "Go around, Kelli!") ... and wondering how I'd keep from either crying or imitating Sally Field or just freezing. I don't remember what I said -- it was a moment when words fail wordsmiths.

All in all, it felt a little like some kind of wonderful, spectacular concussion ... and it was a moment I'll treasure the rest of my life. Thank you, LCC and the amazing, incredible mystery community--and thank you, Hawaii. :)

I managed to get home on the red eye, red-eyed, no sleep. Slept a bit on Thursday, a little more on Friday, and then it was off to Sacramento and Authors on the Move, a formal gourmet dinner fundraiser for the Sacramento Public Libraries. Great fun, getting to drink Buena Vista pinot noir, meeting lots of other authors from all genres, and talking to three different tables of patrons about books and writing. Borders handled the book sales, a percentage of which went to the library, along with the profits from the live auction ... all in all, a spectacularly fun and exciting event in California's capital.

My luck held on the way back ... after a drive of more than 90 miles, our front tire went flat as we pulled into a Trader Joe's parking space. So it was an emergency visit to Sears Auto Center (Sears is a kind of family tradition), the only one open on a Sunday. We made it home, bedraggled, with my mom (who attended the Sacramento event), and dog in the back seat. And a lot of not-so-fresh produce from the Valley. You should see the size of the oranges!

And now back to work and focus ... though at the moment, I'm enjoying the blur. :)

Mahalo ... and aloha!

LCC Hawaii Top Ten

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 16:02:00 +0000

It seems as if I've just arrived, just adjusted myself to a warm, slower and less hectic environment, and now--Wednesday--I go back to my beloved San Francisco and embrace the cold and the stress and the bustle all over again.

I'm not complaining--Noir City is my physical and spiritual home--but let's just say I understand the allure and hospitality of the Big Island--and I plan to return with my family for a vacation.

It's been a wonderful, wonderful conference--and I thought I'd share my top ten reasons why Hawaii makes for a really special LCC conference destination ...

1. It's warm, but not too warm. Yesterday the sun fully embraced us, and it was magnificent. The humidity isn't overbearing, the sunshine gentle, and the mountains in the distance still have snow.

2. Relaxation. I'm not actually sure if I've ever relaxed at a conference before this one ... at least without alcoholic help ... and a constant state of motion and excitement is its own fun (Thrillerfest in New York, for example). But it's wonderful to be able to relax without falling asleep!

3. Nature. Conferences tend to be held in urban centers, from New York to Chicago to San Francisco. The only kind of wild kingdom we usually get to see is the kind we write about in crime novels. To catch a glimpse of a mongoose in a parking lot--fish slipping between rocks and darting out of holes in ancient fish ponds--multi-colored birds flitting from fronds or to wake up to the myna birds outside your lanai--you instantly feel more connected to the Earth. And that's a good thing. You may even see wild goats and donkeys on the road between Kona and Waikoloa ... instead of the familiar deer silouette on the highway warning sign, you'll notice longer ears and shorter legs.

4. Culture. It doesn't take long--maybe two minutes?--to immediately feel the unique and special cultural heritage of Hawaii, and its genuine, welcoming spirit.

5. Waikoloa Marriott. A fabulous, open resort hotel, with a good restaurant and beautiful grounds.

6. Fresh papaya and passion fruit juice. Where else can you get served exotic fruit for your continental breakfast? Where else can you where fragrant flowers around your neck?

7. Diversity. In culture, nature, and things to do ... you can venture up a volcano, go horseback riding on a ranch, bird watch, take a sub tour, and get up close and personal with whales.

8. Luaus. On Sunday night we saw dancers, fire throwers/eaters, drummers, and enjoyed a veritable feast. If it's not in Hawaii, it's not a luau--it's just Grease II.

9. Cocktails. All those fruity drinks with the paper umbrellas actually belong here. I enjoyed a Blue Hawaii last night in honor of Elvis.

10. When you wake up, you're in Hawaii! And that's enough.

I'll blog tomorrow after I recover from the red-eye and share a wrap-up of my final day today ... but right now, I'm going out on the lanai and listen to the myna birds.

The Aloha Spirit ... Left Coast Crime

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 16:33:00 +0000

So it's my first time in Hawaii, the conference is fabulous, and now that my cognitive abilities are reasonably restored (though never reasonable), some of my impressions ...

I arrived Sunday morning, amazed to land on the tarmac (yay for tarmacs!) rather than one of those long airport tubes. It was raining, a mystical, tropical warmth of big drops falling with a gentle touch on the black, rugged land all around the tiny airport.

The airport itself consists of small brown wooden buildings with open air exposure, dark brown, more like what I'd imagine as tasteful amusement park architecture, if that's not an oxymoron.

I bought a lei of plumeria and orchids (amazing fragrance) at the airport ... and yeah, I've heard the joke about sixteen times now, so quit sniggering.

Volcanic mountains rise up in the distance ... to the south, the island is green and lush. To the north, black sharp rocks--a more than century-old lava flow--drape the land, creating a disconcerting contrast to the pre-formed ideas of paradise. But then -- the aloha spirit. On the way to the Waikoloa Marriott -- a mostly new complex of hotel, garden, pool, beach, palm trees and shopping malls called the King Shops and the Queen's Marketplace--you see words spelled out in white shell against the sombre lava-black. Words that pay tribute, words that honor and remember, words that testify to love, whether it's Angie plus Daniel or in memory of someone lost.

No "graffitti". That wouldn't honor the land. That wouldn't honor the people. And that wouldn't, from my limited experience, seem to be Hawaiian.

People are friendly here, aloha and mahalo not just words in a tourist booklet or left on a recording when you're on phone hold. I've learned that Hawaii is a beautiful place with an ugly epidemic: crystal meth, called ice on the island. There's also an older crisis, the disparity of wealth between the land-owners and the poor, a demarkation of inequity that stretches back to the plantation era.

Hawaii is a land of contrast. Like aloha written in shells on the black, sharp rock.

I want to learn more about it ... and will.

And in the meantime, the conference is amazing. Louise Ure and Gillian Roberts and Bill and Toby Gottfried and Janet Rudolph, and all the dedicated volunteers have done an incredible job ... fascinating panels, exploratory side trips, movies, even a Sunday night luau.

Yesterday morning we enjoyed a spectacular debut author's breakfast sponsored by Mystery Scene ... followed by two debut panels. People are talking, sharing, drinking mai tais, admiring the flora and fauna (I saw a mongoose!) ... and relaxing. The rain has stopped.

And underneath it all, the aloha spirit ... a specific and special evocation of the generosity and humanity that always defines the mystery writing community. Hawaii and Left Coast Crime belong together. I'm so glad I'm here.

Aloha!

The Unconventional Convention!

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 04:41:00 +0000

I'm on my way to Hawaii tomorrow--first time there. This year's Left Coast Crime is the "unconventional convention" and it promises to be a slap-bang load of fun and frolic and originality ... and with events like movie nights and a theatrical production and a dessert spectacular, it truly is unconventional.

While I'm flying tomorrow--in between writing deadlines--I'll be thinking about the journey that brought me to Kona. NOX was nominated for the Bruce Alexander Memorial Historical Mystery Award, and what an amazing, incredible honor to be listed with fabulous writers I admire so much: Rhys Bowen, Laurie R. King and Tasha Alexander. And I'll be thinking about my family and friends, and how they teamed up to figure out the economics of getting me to the Big Island. And I'll be thinking about the writing community, and what a wonderful, generous and supportive group it is, and how privileged I am to be a part of it.

I'll be thinking about noir, too--I'll be giving a talk about film noir for one of the "Talk Stories" at LCC, fifteen minutes of author freedom. And I'll be researching and writing, too.

Above all, I'll be giving thanks. No, it's not November ... and yes, I'm a noir writer. But writing about noir also means being able to appreciate what we have and how lucky we are to have it.

I'm also thankful that I wasn't a writer when Dorothy Parker was a reviewer ... I came across this quote the other day: "This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force." I don't know the book she was describing--and that's exactly the point. ;)

Noir City Wrap Up

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 02:18:00 +0000

Those who know me know I take film noir very seriously. I was honored to find our friends at The Rap Sheet give a nod to WID and my Noir City reporting in late January. And then ... and then ...

What happened? Did I drop off a log? Did my fedora fall over my eyes? Did I (gasp) not go to the festival?

None of the above. What happened was ... well ... there's no other way to explain it. GOOD NEWS. And--as any noirhead knows--good news--particularly the kind of toe-squirming, technicolor, Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland and Busby Berkeley musical dream-come-true good news--is not conducive to the dark and usually wet streets of Noirville.

Here's what happened. Right before the last weekend of the festival, I accepted a two-book deal with Thomas Dunne/St Martin's Minotaur for my 1940 San Francisco PI noir, RICE BOWL. And, to tell you the truth, I've been feeling a little, well, musical-ish ever since. More like Maria in The Sound of Music than Mildred in Mildred Pierce. More like the first book's Harry Potter than the fifth's. I am thrilled beyond belief, and wake up telling myself that it's real and it's fabulous, and that it's not all a flashback from an unreliable narrator.

So naturally, I had to let some time pass before I could stop seeing rainbows and properly tackle my normal habitat. I write noir, after all. And RICE BOWL is both of the noir world and upends it. But more on it--lots more on it--later. We've got time, and this post is for the smash-bang closeout of the greatest film festival in the world.

Now keep in mind that I'm still a working girl, and I unfortunately can't see everything. I squeezed in Thursday to see The Big Clock (1948) on the big screen, and a treat it was. Based on the terrific novel by Kenneth Fearing (I bought a tattered first edition last year)--the movie was shot beautifully by the underrated John Farrow (Mia's dad--he married Maureen O'Sullivan, a co-star in the film, during the shooting).

Ray Milland was charming, debonair and reassuringly confident in the midst of tension (the script sported several light-hearted touches), Charles Laughton was delightfully controlling and villanous, femme fatale Rita Johnson (They Won't Believe Me) more appealing than the rather pallid Maureen, George Macready (the creepy Nazi Ballin in Gilda) appropriately smarmy, and Elsa Lanchester stole every scene she was in with a comic role as an artiste. Rounding out the cast was Henry Morgan as a murderous masseur/thug (and if you've only thought of him as Sherman Potter, prepare yourself) and Louis van Rooten as a radio actor (which he was in real life).

For me, the real star of the movie was the set design by Hans Dreier, which was truly a marvel to behold. Sort of prefigures the Bond sets in terms of size equalling threat, yet with a Deco panache that was quite beautiful. All in all, a classic, and not to be missed.

Perhaps even more enjoyable (and like The Big Clock, this was not my first viewing of the film) was the Claude Rains' vehicle The Unsuspected (1947), which aired the next evening.

Why Michael Curtiz has never been accorded auteur status is due to the fact that he was brilliant in every genre. Here, his Expressionist background in light and dark gradually draw us into a gothically forbidding world of dread and suspense. Rains has never been better or more charming. The plot concerns a radio show host (think of "Suspense" or "Escape" or "The Whistler" if you know classic radio) whose secretary is found hanging above his desk. But we know it's not suicide from a brilliant opening sequence that makes full use of the audio and visual to create a panoply of noir beauty and thrills.

Audrey Totter steals every scene she's in ... sashaying around and calling everyone "lover" but her husband. Constance Bennett proves wonderful and an equal scene-stealer in an Eve Arden like role. The movie is so well-directed and acted by these three--and the always enjoyable noir heavy Jack Lambert--that you overlook the woodenness of Michael North, who apparently retired from acting after making it. Hurd Hatfield (title role in The Picture of Dorian Gray) chews the bar in half as the debauched painter husband of Audrey. And Joan Caulfield is charming, if not particularly memorable, as Rain's niece. But it really works ... and it's not on DVD but occasionally is shown on TCM, so watch for it!

Second billing that night was Desperate (1947), which I've also seen (this is what comes of watching noir all the time), albeit not on a big screen. An early Anthony Mann effort, the cinematography and shot set ups prefigure his greatest work, and the film is worth seeing if only for one spectacular "interrogation" scene by gangster Raymond Burr. Steve Brodie plays a truck driver gulled into participating in a heist. After a threat to his wife (the appealing Audrey Long), he's determined to get her somewhere safe before going to the cops (even if it means stealing cars along the way). His character makes the words "trust me" a bit comical, but the film is great entertainment, with a lot of interesting touches (a Czech wedding!).

Finally, my last foray into Noir City was the Fritz Lang thriller Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (1956). Again, this was the second time I'd watched the film, and on the big screen--and with a second viewing--my appreciation and admiration for it grew enormously ... just as Foster Hirsh, who introduced the film along with Noir Czar Eddie Muller, said it would. Joan Fontaine is the independent love interest of a writer (and I've got to say, I really enjoyed the lines about deadlines and writing and publishing) played by the always noirish Dana Andrews. Her father--his soon-to-be father-in-law--is a newspaper man vehemently opposed to capital punishment (Sidney Blackmer). Dad's got a great idea--how about if someone innocent frames himself for murder, gets convicted, is sentenced to death, and then produces evidence of innocence ... wouldn't that prove the folly of relying on circumstantial evidence and make people hesitate before sending convicts to the chair? Sure it would, Dad-in-law ... sure it would.

The film has been remade for release later this year, with Michael Douglas and the young Amber Tamblyn, who has the excellent taste to name The Asphalt Jungle as one of her favorite movies. Director/writer Peter Hyams also helmed the Gene Hackman/Anne Archer remake of The Narrow Margin. So see the original before you see the remake.

And watch it more than once ... it's really terrific, though filmed on an incredibly cheap budget. As a bonus, the delightful Barbara Nichols--real life former model and burlesque queen, always memorable and a scene-stealer in The Sweet Smell of Success--plays the role of (you guessed it) a stripper. She steals these scenes, too.

The festival closed with The latter film--maybe Burt Lancaster's greatest performance--and a new print of The Killers ... but alas, it was a Sunday, and I was wrapped up in work and good news.

I'll be back with more films noir--and more of everything--later. In the meatime, keep your cigarettes dry and your bourbon wet, and if someone asks you to frame yourself ... think twice!

Noir City, Night Two: What a Dahl!

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 02:36:00 +0000

The loyal denizens of Noir City were treated to a visit by Hollywood Royalty last night. The Film Noir Foundation and a sold-out theater of 1,407 lucky film-goers paid tribute to the legendary Arlene Dahl, va-va-va voom girl and wonderful actress. What a night ... and what a Dahl!

The evening began with an ode to nostalgia: this year, as part of the Newspaper Noir theme, newspaper boys--and girls--dressed in the archetypal hat and knickers of legend, roam the waiting lines of the festival, hawking free Noir City programs to eager ticket holders. Last night they yelled "Extra, Extra--Arlene Dahl in person between shows!" It's a great gimmick, and the kids were wonderful ... and I'm betting it helped sell a few more Chronicles and New York Times, too.

Ms. Dahl arrived to applause from the hundreds of people waiting in line, accompanied by her husband, Marc Rosen, and actor son, the gallant and handsome Lorenzo Lamas. A bit later, passport holders were allowed into the theater for a fabulous reception, complete with cocktails made with the official Noir City spirits Rain Vodka and Eagle Rare Bourbon (my poison was bourbon and soda, natch), and a sumptuous feast of hors d'oeuvres. Ms. Dahl, as gorgeous as ever, graciously signed autographs and posed for pictures, while her family watched proudly.

Then ... the movie. WICKED AS THEY COME (1956) was a star vehicle for Ms. Dahl, showcasing not just her amazing beauty, but her formidable talent. She portrays an impoverished, working-class girl who scrambles over a chain of men into a rich marriage ... only to have her past catch up to her with disastrous results. What do you expect? This is Noir City, baby!

The film is reminiscent of the pre-code Stanwyck masterpiece Baby Face, but offers an interesting twist (and one that indicates how obsessive filmmakers were with psychology and juvenile delinquency in the mid-'50s): Ms. Dahl's character, Kathy Allen, harbors an emotional block against intimacy and a pathological hatred of men not because she is as "wicked as they come", but because she was the victim of a horrendous crime in her early adolescence. Heady stuff--and Ms. Dahl's performance was perfect.

Philip Carey and Herbert Marshall ably rounded out the star list, and the film was sumptously filmed--on location in Britain--by Basil Emmott. Director Ken Hughes may be more famous for his British Double Indemnity noir, The House Across the Lake (1954) -- and for directing the only Ian Fleming musical, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968) -- but WICKED AS THEY COME is a wonderful piece of filmmaking, and a shining example of Ms. Dahl's tremendous talent.

After the credits, the screen segued to a delightful series of film clips from Ms. Dahl's films, everything from song and dance numbers (Three Little Words) to melodrama (Woman's World) to historical noir (Reign of Terror--shown at last year's Noir City) to fantasy adventure (Journey to the Center of the Earth). Audience favorite was probably the steamy clip from Sangaree (1953), in which she co-starred with husband Fernando Lamas. What made it even more memorable is the fact that Lorenzo had never seen his mother on the big screen before last night.

Noir Czar Eddie Muller then brought Ms. Dahl to the stage for a champagne toast and a tremendous standing ovation. Gracious, delightful, and a mesmerizing conversationalist, Ms. Dahl discussed her origins in show business, her work, her equally legendary co-stars, and paid tribute to both the Castro's own beauty as a movie palace and to the adoring audience. The time passed too quickly ... and after another standing ovation, Ms. Dahl and her family made their way out of the theater, accompanied by the sound of applause and the hearts of 1,407 habitues of Noir City.

The second film then aired: a technicolar and Super Scope 1956 feast called SLIGHTLY SCARLET, starring Ms. Dahl and friend and fellow redhead Rhonda Fleming. If you don't think noir can be shot in color, think again. John Alton--probably the foremost master of shadow and light to grace Hollywood--made the oranges and greens and blues and purples as lurid as a black and white Bowery gutter.

The story was ostensibly based on James M. Cain's Love's Lovely Counterfeit, but the script rambled, sometimes into incoherency. The plot involved the ostensible clean-up of a crooked Bay City by "publicity man" John Payne, who is actually an underling of the mob boss his clean-up machinations overthrows. He uses his knowledge of Rhonda's relationship with the newly-elected goody-two shoes Mayor (she's his secretary--and what a secretary!) and her younger sister's klepto- and nymphomania (played to the delicious and perfect hilt by Ms. Dahl) to manipulate them into helping him with his coup.

The problem is that despite Payne's charisma and able performance, his motivation is unclear and underwhelming, and the movie doesn't flesh out Cain's plot well enough to make you sympathize with him. Ted de Corsia turns in his usual spectacular character performance as the overthrown Little Caesar, but Ms. Dahl, as Dorothy Lyons, steals the show ... and not just in her leopard print swim suit, but in a captivating, convincing performance of mental illnesss that made me wish she'd been able to play Carmen Sternwood in The Big Sleep.

Veteran director Allan Dwan wisely kept the camera on the eye-popping scenery--Rhonda and Ms. Dahl against a symphonic technicolor backdrop. SLIGHTLY SCARLET may have suffered from a weak script, but with star power like that, you can quote Robert Mitchum in Out of the Past ... "Baby, I don't care."

I'm a working girl, so I've got to leave the mean streets for a few days, hopefully to return on Thursday. In the meantime, keep your powder dry and watch out for redheads ... they spell terrific trouble in Noir City!

That's the Press, Baby! - Noir City Opening Night

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 20:41:00 +0000

Last night it rained in San Francisco. It always rains in San Francisco for two weeks in January--when she opens the Golden Gate to murder, lust, corruption and cheap cigarettes.

Yes, it was Noir City night at the Castro Theater, and Bay Area residents let the rain drops drip from their fedoras, and sauntered over to a sold-out movie palace to pay tribute to urban poetry. Noir Czar and Czarina Eddie Muller and Anita Monga have programmed a punchy, timely and provocative theme this year--Newspaper Noir, from the days when the press didn't mean smarmy, politicized gossip from ill-educated and attention-seeking hacks.

... or did it?

One thing a steady dose of noir will teach you--and I've been dipping into it for a long, long time--is that the more things change, the more they stay the same. So last night we were treated to two films that dealt with the distintegration of news to sensationalism and the tawdry manipulation of fear and wish-fulfilment ala "reality tv" ... only the year was 1952.

Just as the internet threatens -- and some would say, has sealed the fate -- of the printed "wuxtry!" that was the most popular and affordable media of its time, back in the early '50s the threat was TV. And then--as now--the owners of said news outlets wrestled with what to do.

The first film, Richard Brook's DEADLINE--USA, is an obit for the ethical newspaper man ... the current editor and now-deceased owner who believed in the power of the press and in the dignity of the human being. In newspapers that function as social outlets, the voice in the wilderness crying for reform, the byline that isn't afraid to speak the truth to the masses, not just cater to their taste for sensationalism.

And what a movie ... no film about the press captures its allure and its power and the Sophie's Choice of its purpose--to report or to exploit?--better than DEADLINE. Only the sardonic comedy of The Front Page and its remake, His Girl Friday, comes close at all.

Richard Brooks (Brute Force) wrote a snap-crackle screenplay, sharp with wit and observation, and matched it with flawless direction. Humphrey Bogart is perfect casting as the epitome-of-decency editor, Ethel Barrymore also perfect as the owner's widow who regains her self-respect and fighting spirit in battling to save the paper her husband founded. No one--and I mean no one--ever played those parts as well as Ethel, my favorite of the Barrymores.

The always believable Kim Hunter rounds out the stars of the cast as Bogie's ex-wife, but the film really sang with stellar performances by some terrific character actors. Fleshing out the roles of reporters were Paul Stewart (Citizen Kane, The Window, Kiss Me Deadly) perfect as the tough sports writer, Jim Backus in an understated and convincing performance as the gossip man, Warren Stevens as a cub reporter determined to get the story, Broadway actress Audrey Christie as the hardboiled press dame, and Ed Begley as Bogie's right-hand man. Martin Gable owned the part of Rienzi, the untouchable city crime boss, and never overplayed a moment (it's the kind of role Rod Steiger would have chewed to bits).

Uncredited and virtually unknown actress Kasia Orzazewski portrayed the immigrant mother of a crime victim and dominated a moving scene late in the film. This was a character actress made for noir. Though her filmography is unfortunately tiny, she played small but memorable bits in three other top-notch noirs: Call Northside 777, Thieves' Highway (one of the very best) and I Was a Communist for the FBI.

Watch DEADLINE-USA if you can catch it on TCM, and advocate for its release on DVD. It's a truly great film, and a loving ode to the power of the press ... baby.

SCANDAL SHEET rounded out the opening night double-feature, and Broderick Crawford--always a superb actor--makes a dynamic and convincing editor, one who can recognize the merit of a story to emotionally manipulate the "slobs" that increase his tabloid's circulation. Yes, ladies and gentlemen--this was tabloid "journalism", and the year was 1952.

"Yellow" journalism is something you might remember hearing about in your high school history class, often linked with the name "Hearst". While Bogart and his paper recognized the power of the press and lived up to the moral responsibilities that came with it, Crawford and his Board of Directors -- despite hypocritical complaints about "immorality"--recognized the power and exploited the hell out of it.

Give the public what it wants ... a sucker is born every minute ... you get the idea. The more lurid the content, the more cheap and tawdry and trashy the stories, the more exploitative of people's victimization or misfortune, the more the circulation numbers shoot up--up--and up. It's Noir City, baby ... and it's also tomorrow's headline.

Ironically, Crawford's downfall begins with his reality-show-type creation of a Lonelyhearts Club, purely a publicity stunt designed to prey on the saps. It all seems so (unfortunately) modern--but Queen for a Day had been around for years (radio and then television), and no other show before--and possibly, since--so shamelessly milked false sentiment from dried up mammary ducts.

SCANDAL SHEET'S twists are many, and they all start to tighten around Crawford's thick neck. Y'see, he kills his ex-wife, covers it up, and then his star cub reporter--the dreadful John Derek--decides to solve the crime ... all in the name of circulation.

Donna Reed is terrific as the moral yet sexy good girl, Rosemary de Camp gives the performance of her life as Crawford's ex-wife, Harry Morgan is acid and biting as the cynical photographer, and character actors Henry O'Neill and Griff Barnett give excellent performances as two men who pull Crawford's noose ever tighter. And there are some amazing shots of amazing character faces playing rummies in the Bowery. As Morgan acerbically observes, "That does it--I'm not taking another drink."

SCANDAL SHEET, ably directed by Phil Karlson (Kansas City Confidential) and based on a Sam Fuller novel, only fell short with its second lead John Derek. Though he offered a brash sort of energy reminiscent of Tom Cruise, Derek was completely unconvincing in every role I've ever seen, and this, sadly, was no exception. Possibly cast to capitalize on his earlier portrayal of Crawford's son in All the King's Men, an actual actor would have been a much better choice. Still, the film's treasures outweigh Derek's feather-light performance.

Noir City continues tonight with a tribute to leading lady Arlene Dahl, and yours truly will be back with more ... for now, pay honor to the power of the press ... quit reading this blog and buy a newspaper, baby!

Aloha!

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 02:14:00 +0000

Before Noir City starts tomorrow and I immerse myself in amour fou, sweaty obsession and rain-darkened streets, I have to indulge in something on the opposite end of the spectrum ... purely joyful and purely heart-warming.

So what am I talking about ... a Capra movie? The end of The Christmas Carol? An episode of The Waltons?

Thankfully--at least regarding The Waltons--no. I'm talking about the amazing generosity and support that exists in the crime writing community. It's not the first time I've encountered it, but for the last two days I've been privileged to be dramatically reminded of it.

Here's the story: my first book--NOX DORMIENDA--was nominated for the Bruce Alexander Memorial Mystery Award. And it's in the company of writers I deeply admire and friends I deeply care about--Rhys Bowen, Tasha Alexander, Laurie King. I am stunned, honored and humbled.

Since the announcement yesterday, I've spent a lot of time responding with thanks to the well-wishes and voices of encouragement and support that have poured in ... and again, I shake my head in wonder at the sheer niceness of this industry. At talks, the audience always laughs whenever I mention that crime writers are the most wonderful--and just plain nicest-- people in the world. But it's true. Criminal minds, warm hearts. :)

To top off all this, the generosity of friends and family is what is allowing me to say "aloha" to Hawaii ... to actually go to Left Coast Crime, which just two weeks ago was beyond my reach.

I've started to do my research, and just discovered "aloha" also means love.

Somehow, that's fitting.

The Random 16

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 19:34:00 +0000

A couple of weeks ago, I was tagged for another meme-thing on Facebook ... Linda Richards, top-notch idea woman that she is, inspired me to reuse it here. I like the idea of reuse, make do or mend ... why limit a perfectly good meme to the Facebook environment?

Like everyone else apparently, I'm excited about the Inauguration. I'll be recording it for viewing after work. And I'm hoping that the number of newspaper special editions it sells will help keep our remaining dailies in business ...

Speaking of which, Noir City is this Friday, January 23rd ... Noir City, a font of inspiration and sweaty, heady obsession ... Noir City, the premiere film festival in the world, the dreamchild of the desperate, the deranged and the dangerous. Noir City. The name says it all, baby. And of course I'll be there, holding my Noir City passport. No shots this year--I've been inoculated before.

This year's theme ties in with the sad decline of journalism and the inky magic of tangible print--yes, it's Newspaper Noir, and the lead film is the Humphrey Bogart vehicle Deadline, USA. Noir Czar Eddie Muller's father was a byline sports columnist for the San Francisco Examiner, and believe you me, these films will all pack a nostalgic wallop of the long-gone world of real journalism ... you know, before news became merely opinion.

Somehow, Eddie always pulls rabbits and magic out of his many hats ... this year's festival will be really special (and Arlene Dahl is the guest!), so forget economic news or post-holiday blues--find a million dollar baby at San Francisco's Castro Theater, because Noir Days Are Here Again.

One more thing before the meme: I was saddened to learn that Ricardo Montalban passed away. A charming, ever-urbane man of wonderful talent, charisma and personal appeal, he enriched a bleak television landscape with fun and fantasy, and graced a number of good films with his presence. One of them was a hard-hitting noir, helmed by Anthony Mann and lensed by John Alton: Border Incident. Coincidentally, it's airing on TCM on the opening date of Noir City (Friday, January 23rd), so if you can't come to San Francisco, you can pay tribute to both noir and Montalban by watching this fine film. I'll post a review of it soon ... in the meantime, see the trailer here.

Now ... the sixteen bits of personal trivia. I was originally tagged by legal eagle and thriller writer Ken Isaacson, and the MWA Maven herself, Margery Flax.

1. Ken now owes me at least two drinks at the next conference for getting "The Pina Colada Song" stuck in my head.

2. Confession: I'm a sap for any song that features classic Hollywood ... "Bette Davis Eyes" ... "Vogue" ... and, yes, even "Key Largo" (We had it all ... just like Bogie and Bacall!)

3. I was the only girl in my kindergarten play. I played the little billy goat in The Three Billy Goats Gruff--and not knowing that billy meant male, I wore a pastel dress and a hair ribbon.

4. When I was six I wanted to be a paleontologist.

5. My mother tells me I used to love the Beatles when I was a baby.

6. My first pony's name was Sugarfoot. My second pony's name--when we moved to Florida--was Rascal. My first horse's name was Mahalia. And my mom knew Mahalia Jackson.

7. I am very proud of whistling well.

8. I collect comic books and paper ephemera from the '30s and '40s for research and pleasure.

9. My Mae West impression won the role of the courtesan in The Comedy of Errors for me.

10. I'm an incurable Romantic. That's why I write noir.

11. I almost attended UC San Diego and was accepted there as a Chemistry major ... I thought about becoming a cosmochemist.

12. I attended the University of Dallas on a scholarship as a Drama major instead.

13. I'm the first person in my family to graduate from college.

14. I'm a coal miner's granddaughter.

15. My background is half Polish and half English, Irish, and Scottish with some Choctaw thrown in.

16. I refuse to eat viscera, but I love escargot.

Got a trivium or two? Share some of your own!

The Meming of it All

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 20:02:00 +0000

I'm not sure that "meming" is a word -- but it's January, so new words are allowed. How else do little dictionaries grow?

This is the month of Noir City and post-holiday cookie sales ... a month of anticipation, back-to-the-gym promises, of hope and resolve and potential. Of dark, rainy streets projected in glorious 35mm on the Castro Theater screen, of sunshine in San Francisco backyards, and a new inauguration for a New Deal and a New Day in Washington.

You can probably tell I like January.

This week, I'm meming ... it's a receding economy, and in the spirit of "make do and mend", and "reduce, reuse, recycle", later this week I'll post a meme originally created on Facebook. Today, though, I've got a new one for which I was tagged by that talented dame of hardboiled fiction, Linda L. Richards.

You may possibly be wondering exactly what a "meme" is. In the context of Bloggerville, it's one of those response-oriented lists that float from tagger to tagger, wherein you list five foods you won't eat, seventeen most embarrassing moments, seven times you've broken the law or three impossible things before breakfast.

You know the kind of thing. Here's a link to more specific definitions, but their real purpose is to save a busy blogging world a lot of time and let you discover trivia about other people.

So--drum roll, please ... What book, movie and television show makes you cry the most?

(And keep in mind that I give good weep. From the "Old Yeller cry" (the horrible cry of loss) to "La Marseillaise cry" (the choked up cry of sentiment, in this case over the singing of the Marseillaise in Casablanca), I cry at, over and for a lot of things.)

Book: I might cry over my own if I get a particularly nasty review. I first read Tess of the D'Urbervilles, The Return of the Native, and Jude the Obscure (all by Thomas Hardy) as a young woman (and re-read them subsequently), and I cried buckets. The sound of my tears used to wake my mother up in the middle of the night. They're among the most powerful novels in English, and Jude the Obscure, hands-down, is the most gut-wrenchingly devasting book I've ever read. Only Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath comes close.

Two more get honorable mentions: Upton Sinclair's The Jungle and Ayn Rand's We, the Living. The latter was one of my favorite books, and I used to harbor dreams of making it into a movie (I'm far from being a political disciple of Rand's, but she was one hell of a writer.)

A special section might be devoted to children's literature: I cried over the Harry Potter saga as an adult, and as a kid used to wail over Charlotte's Web.

Movie: The aforementioned Casablanca scene always makes me cry. But It's A Wonderful Life makes me cry from the opening scene, just in anticipation (voiceovers of various cast members are praying for George Bailey). I avoid sad animal movies entirely. Crying is a catharsis, and if you've experienced the loss of a beloved pet, you realize crying doesn't help. I don't need an entertainment vehicle to remind me of it.

Television Shows: TV mostly makes me cry in horror--especially the "Queen for a Day" reality programming. Most television--which, when I was growing up, was all network--is presented in bite-size chunks, making it much more difficult to sustain the emotional connection necessary. So I don't think I've cried at TV since the last, farewell episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show. And for some reason, probably related to why I'm a noir writer, Carol Burnett used to make me teary whenever she dragged out that damn old bucket to play the scrub-woman. I'm sure I would've cried at the last episode of MASH, too, but I was rehearsing for a play in college--and the little (#$^@ student director thought that directing meant being a dictator, and forced us to miss the episode. This in the days of no TiVO. I'm still holding a grudge.

Quid pro quo time: I'm tagging Laura Benedict, Jennie Bentley, Rebecca Cantrell, Bill Cameron, and Alex Sokoloff. And Linda, right back atcha. Memes away, guys! :)

A Wonderful Year

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Thu, 01 Jan 2009 02:12:00 +0000

You know the old saw: if you fall off a horse, get back on right away, or your fear will talk you out of it. As someone who grew up with horses, I can testify to the truth of this particular bit of hoary wisdom.

I've fallen off of Writing in the Dark of late. And--though it's partly due to my impacted schedule of writing deadlines (my third novel), book tours, conferences and promotion--not to mention a day job and ubiquitous chores--it's partly my fault, too. I'm a perfectionist--I like my blog to be a miniature sketch, complete with images, and if I'm too tired or too harried to make it that way, I tend to put it off.

Well, no longer. I'm also not one for resolutions (I detest the damn things), so call this a realization. The truth is that if I wait until I have the time, I'll never get it done. I'll be around more often and more consistently next year ... and in the meantime, here's what I've been doing:

October was Bouchercon. Crimespree's Jon and Ruth Jordan and Judy Bobalik did a superhuman and tremendous job--nirvana for a conference junkie like me. I participated in two panels (one as moderator) and a marvelous author's showcase with a group of buddies. Had a blast with a lot of friends. Attended my first Shamus dinner, paid respects to Mr. Poe. About the only thing I missed was hanging out with Sandra Ruttan and having coffee with Declan Burke--both of which are must-dos the next chance I get.

After B-con I was the guest of the lovely Sisters in Crime in Sacramento, participated in a library panel in Corcord, was the guest on an hour-long radio segment of Goddess Radio (American First Radio and KCAA San Bernadino) with Midnight Bookworm Vin Smith and Panney Wei, was the guest SinC speaker at the Gilroy library, read at the SinC Fall Soiree at San Francisco's Books Inc, celebrated the 100th birthday of John's Grill (home of The Maltese Falcon), and rang in holiday cheer at the annual MWA/SinC party at M is for Mystery.

I also finished my third book--a very dark, sweeping PI novel set in 1940 San Francisco. A big book. We're hoping to see it with a big publisher, so we're crossing everything that can be crossed, and a few things that probably shouldn't be.

The year has been capped with a homecoming. I grew up in northern Mendocino/southern Humboldt Counties (northern California)--spent junior high and high school there. My parents live in the northern part of the county now, near Eureka. I had a signing at Borders in Eureka after Christmas that was more like a party and reunion--old friends from high school, former teachers, friends I haven't seen in more than twenty years, colleagues who volunteer with my mom. David Dun, best-selling thriller author, Treasurer and one of the wonderful founders of ITW (International Thriller Writers) has a home in the area, and came to cheer me on--it was amazing and truly special! The Eureka Times Standard did me the honor of placing NOX on the front page, too--here's the link:
http://www.times-standard.com/ci_11312832?IADID=Search-www.times-standard.com-www.times-standard.com

After the signing, I was the guest at the lovely home of a lovely woman who hosts a book club. In one of those "it's a small world" moments, I learned that Marsha Hunt--whose grace, radiance and star turn in Eddie Muller's The Grand Inquisitor I wrote about last January (it's almost time for the next Noir City!)--had also been a guest. I met a friend of Ms. Hunt's and an absolutely lovely group of ladies. What a fantastic way to close the year.

For me, 2008 will always be the year my first book was published. It's been quite a journey. It has been an honor to meet readers, booksellers and librarians--an honor to know people in places I've never been and may never see are reading NOX DORMIENDA. It leaves me with a breathless feeling, one of gratitude and humility.

I'm extraordinarily thankful to be a part of the writing community ... friends and colleagues so talented, generous and giving that I wind up feeling like George Bailey every day. As I look ahead to 2009--with a new grog to debut soon (more details next week!), more work with MWA and ITW and SinC, another novel to research, and the second Arcturus book to revise--and hope on the horizon for a contract with a bigger house--I'm thankful to be where I am, ensconced in what is--to me--a wonderful life.

Thanks, all of you, for making 2008 a year to remember! Happy New Year--here's to a great 2009! :)

At Long Last ... Blog!

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 23:48:00 +0000

Bless me, bloggers, for I have sinned ... it has been mmmpfh (hand over mouth) days since my last blog.

Much has happened, and I'm going to spend a couple of days catching up. I finished my third novel, which is the main reason I haven't been hanging around Writing in the Dark. My third is a big dark book set in 1940 San Francisco, and I needed to complete it before Bouchercon. I managed to do so, but literally had no time left over for blogging, reading, email, eating a proper meal, and sleep. I left bread crumbs of my activities on Twitter, and plan to stick to my regularly scheduled blogging programming from now on, though life may somtimes pre-empt me.

I traveled to LA and San Diego and back on a book tour ... via US 101 ... a wonderful trip along El Camino Real, the old historic route of the King's Highway, mission to mission, bell to bell. Salinas lettuce fields (Salad Capital of the World!), the Santa Ynez mountains ... the drive makes you appreciate the the real gold of California, and it's not the yellow stuff in vaults.

Mysteries to Die For in Thousand Oaks and The Mystery Bookstore in Los Angeles are fantastic places to shop and spend time and meet people. Alan and Bobby are absolutely wonderful ... and two reasons why I love to support independent bookstores as both a reader and a writer. I was privileged to appear at both stores, and very happy to be The Mystery Bookstore's Discovery Club pick of the month.

I met friends from Crimespace and Sisters in Crime, including my author friend Mari Sloan, who has written a terrific mystery (Beaufort Falls), and Mari's wonderful husband, and Travis Richardson, former NorCal MWA member who just moved south. Spent a delightful evening with producer/director/screenwriter pal Victoria Larimore in West Hollywood. Stopped along the way in Salinas, ate a fantastic breakfast at Sang's Cafe (where Steinbeck used to throw one back occasionally), and lunch in Solvang at the Little Mermaid.

We eventually managed to thread our way through Malibu Canyon, Malibu and Santa Monica before taking rest in our favorite SoCal home away from home, The Culver Hotel.

After a signing at the Gaslamp Borders in San Diego, we headed home the next morning, and breakfasted at Andersen's Pea Soup in Buellton (a few miles from Solvang) ... you haven't lived until you've tried pea soup for breakfast! You get eggs and Danish sausage and pancakes, too, but that soup ... mmm. :) Late lunch was again in Salinas, at a terrific newly-opened restaurant (family-owned) called Habanero. Literally the best beans and rice I've had since undergraduate years in Texas.

Oh, and Solvang? You haven't eaten Danish until you eat Danish there. Really. We're talking melt-in-your mouth, light-as-air crust, real fruit filling ... let's just say this was a memorable trip on every level, and I can't wait to get back. :)

So then I wrote. And wrote and wrote. And finished what I call "my Bouchercon baby," a novel begun after Alaska and finished before Baltimore.

And speaking of Baltimore, host city for this year's Bouchercon ... well, that deserves its own post. Be back tomorrow with more on Charm City and 1,400 reasons why the crime/mystery/thriller writer life is the one for me!

Lists, Picks and a Pre-Code Delight

kelli@kellistanley.com (Kelli Stanley) — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 01:49:00 +0000

I'm long overdue, but it's nice to be home.

One of my autumn resolutions (always a good time for resolutions--forget January) is to blog each and every week. Probably on a Sunday or Monday ... and I intend to keep said resolution, even if the road to Washington, D.C. is paved with them ...

So what have I been doing? What does that title mean? How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?

Just a little over a week ago, I headed north to the great state of Washington (I can say that with sincerity--I was born there, in Tacoma, the "City of Destiny." And yes, that is what Tacoma is known as, so there.) That's Mt. Ranier in the photo, by the way.

Had the great good fortune and wonderful time of signing books at the Seattle Mystery Bookshop, the premiere place for crime fiction in the state, and one of the top mystery stores in the U.S. J.B, Gretchen and Fran make three hours seem like three minutes -- awesomely fun people!! We laughed, talked about theme songs, and listened to J.B.'s terrific "Spy Mix" of movie and television themes. Where else can you rock out to Thunderball or Mission Impossible while you're signing books?

I saw an old friend from comic book store days (Adam Barnes, ultra-cool guy and publisher of Perilous Press) and met a new friend, Christina Arbini, a romance writer who is set to rock the world with her amazing books.

In other words, I had an incredible afternoon, and can't wait to get back. And then, this Friday, The Seattle Times posted the best-selling mystery lists from SMBS, and ... I was on it! Five Star is a small press, and not known for its ease in bookstore ordering (euphemistically speaking) ... so to be on the list (#5) was a complete surprise and a total highpoint! Topping off the good news, today the monthly list for August was released, and NOX DORMIENDA was #7 for the month, tied with James Lee Burke's (!) SWAN PEAK. Holy Moley! And my home state, too! Thanks, guys!! Seattle Mystery Bookshop is the best!!

So back to the tour ... I took Amtrak from Seattle ("The Emerald City") to Portland, to sign at the wonderful Murder by the Book. This is one of the nicest bookstores you'll ever step inside ... Jean, Carolyn, Barb, Nick and Ted are so helpful and so knowledgeable, I defy anyone to leave without buying something. I am so thankful to have done a signing, and like Seattle, can't wait to go back! To make selections easy, the store is organized by type of detective ... unique and creative! I had a delightful afternoon, talking to a high school classmate (Hi, Tiffany!), a friend of a friend, and hanging around with the reason why Portland should be your number one destination in the Northwest: Bill Cameron.

Bill's my special buddy, and took us on a LOST DOG tour of the city. So I finally got to see the places that creeped me out in his kick-butt book. And snag a bite in the cool Hawthorne District, where the store is located. And take a train out of the oldest continuously operated station in the country, beautifully restored. Sigh. Portland was wonderful! (As you can see in the photo, LOST DOG and NOX DORMIENDA are blessed with supernatural energy).

I didn't have too much time to miss the NW, though. Two days after returning, I had a library panel with fellow authors Dana Fredsti, David Fitzgerald, Peter Gessner and Rebecca Dixon. We had a grand old time -- pure fun! -- and so well-moderated by Dave that some sort of moderator award needs to be established in his honor. One of the best panels, ever.

And that brings me to my current schedule. I'm heading to LA and San Diego for signings this weekend, to Thousand Oaks and Mysteries to Die For, and The Mystery Bookstore in Los Angeles. Then the downtown San Diego Borders on Sunday to wrap things up. So what about the picks I referred to in my blog title?

Well, M is for Mystery -- where I held my first reading on August 2nd -- has selected me as their "Mystorical" pick for August. I'm in august (OK, I like puns) company ... Denise Hamilton and Salman Rushdie are earlier choices. The Mystery Bookstore has also chosen NOX DORMIENDA as their "September Discovery Club Selection" -- another honor! And Mysteries to Die For describes my book this way: "Kelli Stanley has created an exciting new genre of mystery here, Roman noir. Fast-paced plotting, first person narrative, staccato and hard-boiled prose are utilized to full effect. This series debut is one that will be talked about all year."

I've been feeling much more cozy than noir lately, more like Gidget than Gloria. And I can't wait to get to LA and San Diego and thank these amazing, supportive and wonderful bookstores in person!

OK, so now we come to the Pre-Code Delight: Man's Castle, a 1933 Frank Borzage film with Spencer Tracy and a 20 year-old Loretta Young. I caught it on TCM the other night, and it was fantastic.

Spencer and Loretta live in a shanty town in Central Park, along with the other discarded people of the Great Depression. Spencer takes odd jobs and keeps them in stew; Loretta plays wife. Though, because this is pre-code, they're not married. In fact, the first night they meet, they go skinny-dipping, and they sleep in the same bed.

Yeah, people actually had sex before 1934 and the Hays Code tried to make it illegal.

Anyway, Spence is a man who doesn't want commitments. He doesn't want to be tied down. Loretta is in love with him, and persuades him to buy a stove for their Love Shack on the installment plan ($2 down, $1 a month!). He dallies with gap-toothed Glenda Farrell (filmland's Torchy Blaine). But he buys the stove.

And then ... she tells him she's pregnant. Yup, they had unmarried sex. Twenty years later they would die for it. But pre-code, no worries. They are "married" by an ex-preacher, also from Hooverville.

She even mentions something about getting rid of the baby if it would make him happy ... and doesn't use the word adopt. But Spence decides to run out on her, first throwing in with a real villain (a rapist type with designs on Loretta) to rob a toy shop safe, so she'll be provided for.

I won't tell you what happens, but I will tell you this: the characters have a happy ending (as happy as you could have, if you were impoverished in 1933).

You'll have fun counting the "sins" in this film, all of which would be punishable by death or imprisonment, film-wise, the following year. The direction is romantic and lush, as is typical with Borzage; Tracy's acting is breathtakingly natural, and Loretta Young is just breathtaking (and also turns in a great performance).

Films like this make you wonder ... how did the Code change American culture? How did it affect generations of film-goers? Can we blame the code for reality tv?

More next week, after my LA tour ... home sweet home will be the Culver Hotel, next to the old Ince/MGM/RKO studios. Ah, Hollywood! :)