DONALD E. WESTLAKE – Dancing Aztecs.

M. Evans & Co., hardcover, 1976. UK title: A New York Dance. Hodder & Stougton, 1979. Paperback reprints: Fawcett Crest, n.d.; Mysterious Press, 1994.

   The marvel of Donald E. Westlake is his amazing versatility. With equal facility he has written light comedy, pure farce, private-eye stories, police procedurals, straight suspense, caper novels, mainstream fiction, science fiction, and nonfiction under his own name and pseudonyms; mysteries of penetrating psychological insight under the name Tucker Coe; and as by Richard Stark, a series of antihero stories harder than any of the hard-boiled stories published in Black Mask.

   Which just about covers the entire literary spectrum, except for westerns, romantic historicals, and haiku poetry — and don’t be surprised if Westlake decides to write one or all of those someday, just for the hell of it.

   He began his novelistic career with five good but derivative hard-edged novels, among them The Mercenaries (1960), a private-eye adventure; and Killy (1963), a story of detection and psychological suspense in a small town

   No, make that four good but derivative hard-edged novels; Pity Him Afterwards (1964), the tale of a madman on the loose, isn’t really very good at all. Which perhaps helped Westlake decide to try his hand at something different: The Fugitive Pigeon (1965), the first of his marvelously comic mysteries.

   It was with that book, his sixth, that he found his true metier, and ever since he has moved this type of novel onward and upward to new heights of hilarity.

   Dancing Aztecs is the best of Westlake’s crime farces from his middle period (1970s). It tells the tale of Jerry Manelli, a New York City hustler with a hot tip on a priest — a thousand-year-old, two-foot-tall, ugly, misshapen dancing Aztec priest made out of solid gold, with emeralds for eyes, worth approximately $1 million.

   It seems this priest was stolen from a museum in the South America nation of Descalzo and subsequently smuggled through American Customs in a shipment of imitation priests made out out of plaster; but somebody fouled up along the way.

   One of the copies got delivered instead to the million priest’s New York destination, while the authentic was mixed up with fifteen other copies, all of which were delivered to various people in the city and its environs. Jerry’s task: Find the real priest, and fast, before whoever has it realizes what it is and/or the original band of thieves get to it first.

   Jerry’s odyssey (and a dizzying one it turns out to be) leads him all over Manhattan, and to Connecticut, Long Island, and Jersey. It involves him with hoodlums, con men, “a yam-fed Descalzan beauty,” union thugs, street thugs, a Harlem mortician, a Wall Street financier, a drunken activist, a college professor, “a visitor from another planet” and dozens more.

   Will Jerry pull off the greatest scan career, find the golden Dancing Aztec (not to mention True Love), and live happily ever after? Read the book and find out.

   The dust-jacket blurb calls Dancing Aztecs “a silly symphony of raucous laughter and sudden realities, running to the ragged rhythm of New York now,” which is not good writing but nonetheless apt. It isn’t Westlake’s funniest novel, but some of its bits of business rank right up there with his most hilarious — his interpretation of black street dialect, for instance. A silly city symphony, indeed.

         ———
   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

DONALD E. WESTLAKE, R.I.P.  I have sad news to pass along. Donald Westlake died late yesterday while heading out for a New Year’s Eve dinner, most likely from a heart attack. He was 75. For more information, follow this link to an online obituary from the New York Times.

   This is not the way a year should end, or a new one begin. Donald Westlake was one of the best known and most respected mystery writers in the US today. At the time of his death, in terms of his writing career, his had to have been one of the longest. The Mercenaries came out in 1960, but Mr. Westlake began writing short stories for the digest magazines a year or two even before then. Fifty years of creating and crafting top-notch mystery fiction — a tremendous achievement.

   Over the next few days on the Mystery*File blog, I will be posting reviews of several more books he wrote, all taken from 1001 Midnights. My own review of Brothers Keepers can be found here, and apparently I liked Pity Him Afterwards more than Bill did. You can find my review of that book here.

   Mystery fans have every reason to mourn. A giant has left us.

HILLARY WAUGH – The Con Game.

Doubleday Crime Club, hardcover, 1968. Paperback reprint: Popular Library, n.d. UK edition: Victor Gollancz, hc, 1986.

   The novels of Hillary Waugh are characterized by tight plot lines that contain no superfluous action or complications. Each of his stories is lean, tense, and to the point, and it was this streamlined approach and good sense of structure that made Julian Symons select the 1952 novel Last Seen Wearing… for his list of the 100 greatest crime stories written up to 1959.

   Over the past thirty-some years, Waugh — who is married to fellow suspense writer Shannon OCork — has created several series characters: private eyes Sheridan Wesley and Philip Macadam, who are both highly derivative of the Chandler/Hammett tradition; Lieutenant Frank Sessions of Manhattan’s Homicide North; and Police Chief Fred Fellows of Stockford, Connecticut.

   Fellows, a down-to-earth, overweight cop and severe taskmaster, is probably the most appealing of these; and the small-town milieu is one Waugh knows well, since Stockford is very much like the Connecticut setting where Waugh grew up (although life there is definitely more fraught with peril than in New Haven).

   The Con Game, Fellows’s eleventh case, is sharply evocative of the suburbs of the Sixties. Four couples have conspired to bribe elected officials in a land deal; now the $60,000 they have amassed to do so is missing, as are two of the conspirators, George and Dierdre Demarest.

   Fellows’s job is to find them — and the money. His investigation reveals affairs, hopes of affairs, suspicions of affairs, revenge after affairs, and divorce because of affairs — in short, almost every kind of sexual misconduct in Stockford. And those citizens who are not motivated sexually are sure to be moved by greed.

   Fellows treads carefully through this social minefield, trying to determine what each devious-minded person is hiding, but of course he cannot tread carefully enough. And before the case is over, he must use a creative method to determine the whereabouts of his quarry.

   Fellows is an able police officer and a sympathetic character who employs not only good procedural methods but also the logical processes of classical detectives to get his woman or his man. Some of Waugh’s other books in this series are Sleep Long, My Love (1959), Born Victim (1962), and End of a Party (1965).

   Among the Manhattan North novels are “30” Manhattan East (1968) and Finish Me Off (1970).

         ———
   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

HILLARY WAUGH, R.I.P.   Although his obituary did not appear in the New York Times until last Friday, Mr. Waugh passed away earlier this month on December 8th. The obituary called him a “pioneer of the police procedural novel,” as indeed he was.

   It ends by quoting him on the cardinal rule of mystery writing:  “‘Authenticity is the key to good mystery writing,’ he told an interviewer. ‘Not only must you be able to write well, but you must also possess the instincts of a good reporter who has witnessed firsthand the darker side of human nature.'”

GEORGE C. CHESBRO – Shadow of a Broken Man.   Simon & Schuster, hardcover, 1977. Paperback reprints: Signet, 1978; Dell, 1987.

   This is the first Chesbro novel featuring Dr. Robert Fredrickson, a professor of criminology who doubles as a private detective, is a dwarf, and is known to his friends as Mongo. A onetime top circus performer, Mongo possesses some very useful skills for tight situations, among them tumbling and gymnastic ability and a black belt in karate.

   While preparing to leave for vacation in Acapulco, Mongo is approached by Mike Foster, who married the widow of famous architect Victor Rafferty. Foster’s wife, Elizabeth, happened to see a photograph of a new museum in an architectural magazine, and is convinced that the design is the work of her husband.

   But Victor died five years ago, and the museum’s design is listed as the work of a man named Richard Patern. Victor Rafferty died from a fall into an open smelting furnace, so there was essentially no body to be recovered, and Elizabeth is haunted by the conviction that Rafferty is still alive. Mike Foster’s marriage is suffering; he wants Mongo to clear up this matter so he and Elizabeth can get on with their lives.

   Mongo assumes there won’t be too much complication here, so he postpones his vacation and accepts the case. His first move is to consult professor of design Franklin Manning, resident architectural genius, who flatly tells Mongo that the museum is Rafferty’s design, without question.

   And suddenly Mongo is involved in something much more complex and dangerous than he imagined. Russian and French agents are part of the package, as are U.N. Secretary Rolfe Thaag and more than one victim of Communist brutality.

   The writing here is literate and fast-paced, the plot is intricate, the concept is bizarre yet entirely plausible. This is a well-spiced recipe that results in haute cuisine.

   Chesbro is also the author of City of Whispering Stone (1978), An Affair of Sorcerers (1979), and The Beasts of Valhalla (1985), which likewise feature Mongo.

         ———
   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

GEORGE C. CHESBRO, R. I. P.   On a sad note to go with this review, news of George Chesbro’s passing is making the rounds of the mystery fiction blogs today. The best reportage, as usual, is on The Rap Sheet, including some of Jeff Pierce’s personal remembrances of the author.  — Steve

   I received some sad news this morning. John Wright, a mystery writer living in South Africa whom I interviewed here on the blog back in February 2007, has passed away.

   That post included a complete bibliography of his mystery fiction, and of course I hope you’ll go back and read the entire interview. In it we also touched on several of his other achievements, including a life-long interest in old-time radio and early comic book fandom.

   It’s been a while since I heard from him, but some good news he was able to pass along is that several of the PI novels he wrote as Wade Wright have recently been reprinted by Ramble House.

   Here’s the email I received today:

Dear Friends,

It is with a sad heart that I give you the news of John passing away on Friday the 14th at 3 AM.

He had been in hospital for the last week and I had prepared everything for him to come home as the Doctor was of the opinion that though he would be bedridden, I would be able to nurse him at home with some assistance. The Lord knew best and took him home as he was in a lot of pain and discomfort.

Your friendship over the years has meant a great deal to John, and I know we have all lost someone of great worth. Someone, who has touched our lives in so many ways and will be deeply missed.

The funeral service is to be held at St Marks on Wednesday the 19th at 11 AM, and though you can not be here your thoughts and prayers can be with him as we say our last farewell until we meet again.

   God Bless.

      Love Coral

TONY HILLERMAN – Dance Hall of the Dead. Harper & Row, hardcover, 1973. Paperback: Avon, 1975. Many reprint editions, both hardcover and soft.

   Tony Hillerman is a master storyteller, the kind who can spin you a yarn that will keep you on the edge of your chair replete with ghosts, evil spirits, sinister happenings, legends, and all the other ingredients that make up the culture of a people.

   The people he writes of are the Navajo and Zuni Indians of the American Southwest. His books are full of Indian lore. (Hillerman himself went to an Indian boarding school for eight years, and knows the culture as few Anglos do.)

   Set against the vast and often desolate expanse of the great reservations near Four Corners (where the states of Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, and Colorado abut one another), they re-create the loneliness of the high mesas.

   If life is hard for those who live there, it is also hard for Hillerman’s heroes – tribal policemen Joe Leaphorn and, in more recent books, Jim Chee. There are no instant backup systems on the mesas, no quick computerized information resources, indeed few methods of communication.

   Alone, the protagonists must rely on their own intelligence, good judgment, and instincts that have been passed down in a society almost as old as the ancient land where it sprang up.

   Dance Hall of the Dead (which won the MWA Edgar for Best Novel of 1973) opens, as a number of Hillerman’s books do, with a scene from the life of a resident of the reservation, in this case a Zuni.

   And immediately we are confronted with one of the numerous contrasts between modern and an ancient culture that are a trademark of Hillerman’s work: “Shulawitsi, the Little Fire God, member of the Council of the Gods and Deputy to the Sun, had taped his track shoes to his feet.”

   The Little Fire God is a young Zuni man in training not for a track meet but for a religious ceremony. As he rests, thinking of many things that disturb him (but not allowing himself to become angry because at this time in the Zuni religious calendar, anger is not permitted), a strange figure appears from behind a boulder….

   Now that we have been drawn into the Indian consciousness, the scene switches to Zuni tribal-police headquarters where Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn is being briefed on a jurisdictional problem. The Little Fire God, in ordinary life Ernesto Cata, and his Navajo friend, George Bowlegs, are missing, and there are indications that one of them has been knifed. While Cata’s disappearance is in Zuni jurisdiction, Leaphorn is asked to find Bowlegs.

   Cata is presumed dead, and the police suspect Bowlegs is his killer. But there are also rumors that a kachina – a Zuni ancestor spirit – got Cata and frightened Bowlegs. When Cata’s body is found, Leaphorn’s search intensifies; and as he crosses the rugged reservation, fact becomes mixed with legend, and Leaphorn, an outsider to the Zuni culture, must sort out the reality of the situation.

   Dance Hall of the Dead is a fascinating study in the conflicts between two Indian cultures, as well as a fine mystery, the scenes and characters of which will haunt you for a long time after you reach its conclusion.

         ———
   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

TONY HILLERMAN, R.I.P. The much loved author of the Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee mysteries died October 26 of pulmonary failure. He was 83. See the The Rap Sheet online for more details and many remembrances.

   A short while ago this evening I uploaded Part 29 of the online Addenda to the Revised Crime Fiction IV, by Allen J. Hubin.

   The data, as usual, consists largely of miscellaneous material, ranging in terms of authors from Arthur A’Beckett (new biographical facts) to Mabel E. Wotton (full name, along with both birth and death dates).

   Some of the longer entries are ones for comic book writers Brian Azzarello, Will Eisner and Frank Miller, whose detective and crime fiction in graphic novel form have now been added.

   Eisner, for example, was the creator of The Spirit, whose exploits will be coming soon to a movie theater complex somewhere near you.

   Others with long entries include Bernard Capes, whose crime fiction appeared between 1898 and 1919; R. Chetwynd-Hayes, whose collections of ghost stories are given in detail, including the adventures of psychic investigators Frederica Masters & Francis St. Clare; David Hume, some of whose books have recently been published in the US for the first time by Ramble House; and Eric Leyland, all of whose novels about adventurer David Flame are now included, although designed primarily for younger readers. (The cover of one of these books is shown to the left.)

   Three additional film adaptations of books by Ed McBain are included, along with some first US editions of Gladys Mitchell‘s detective fiction, published recently by Rue Morgue Press.

   Deaths occurring in 2008 are reported for Eliot Asinof, Robert Asprin, Nicholas Bartlett, William Buchan, Algis Budrys, Glenn Canary, Thomas Disch, George Furth, George Garrett, Simon Gray, Robert Harling, Jack Lynch, Maureen Peters, Malvin Wald, and Donald James Wheal.

   I regret no longer having the time to post death notices and obituaries for authors such as these on the blog. Some are more important to the field of crime fiction than others, of course, but they all deserve a mention.

   I’m also way behind in adding my annotations to the Addenda. One of my more immediate goals is to improve my performance in that regard. In fact, I am still trying to catch up on emails that arrived while I was away at the beginning of the month and soon thereafter. If you’ve sent me something I haven’t replied to recently, I hope you’ll be patient a while longer.

   Or nudge me. With a pointed stick, if need be!

   While doing some additional research on Peter Driscoll, the author of Pangolin, a spy thriller I reviewed here only a day or so ago, I discovered the sad news of his death, a fact not known to Al Hubin and the Revised Crime Fiction IV before now.

   The Wikipedia entry for Driscoll is not very large. It’s only one sentence long, followed by a list of the books he wrote:

   Taken from an interview with Mr Driscoll and appearing in his entry in Contemporary Authors, he had this to say about his early career:

   Here below is a checklist of all of Peter Driscoll’s crime fiction, expanded upon from the Revised Crime Fiction IV, by Allen J. Hubin:

DRISCOLL, PETER (John). 1942-2005.

      * The White Lie Assignment (n.) Macdonald, UK. hc, 1971. Lippincott, US, 1975. [Albania] “Michael Mannis, a freelance photographer, knew how the Albanian Secret Police dealt with spies. So it took a great deal of money to tempt him into accepting a mission to cross the Albanian frontier and photograph the Chinese missile sites there. He certainly earned it hte hard way when he discovered that his contact was a fugitive double agent with Russian killers waiting for him at the end of the run.”

      * The Wilby Conspiracy (n.) Macdonald, UK, hc, 1973. Lippincott, US, hc, 1972. [South Africa] Film: Optimus, 1975 (scw: Rod Amateau, Harold Nebenzal; dir: Ralph Nelson; starring: Sidney Poitier, Michael Caine). “A white mining engineer plunged into an underground world of intrigue and violence. A beautiful, sensual woman whom he must trust. A black fugitive whom he must save. And hanging in the balance, the fate of a vast, vicious struggle between a clandestine revolutionary organization and a diabolically efficient secret police amid the ugly slums and breathtaking wilderness of present-day Africa.”

      * In Connection with Kilshaw (n.) Macdonald, UK, hc, 1974. Lippincott, US, hc, 1974. [Ireland]

      * The Barboza Credentials (n.) Macdonald, UK, hc, 1976. Lippincott, US, hc, 1976. [Mozambique] “British-born Joe Hickey is charged with finding a mercenary killer in Africa’s dark heart. But time is running out for this ex-cop turned Rhodesian sanctions-buster, and the life he has to save – as the seconds tick relentlessly by – is his own.”

      * Pangolin (n.) Macdonald, UK, hc, 1979. Lippincott, US, hc, 1979. [Hong Kong]

      * -Heritage (n.) Granada, UK, hc, 1982. Doubleday, US, hc, 1982. [Algeria; 1945-62]

      * Spearhead (n.) Bantam, UK, hc, 1988. Little-Brown, US, hc, 1989. [South Africa] “The story of the terror and strife of a South Africa in deep racial conflict. Major Patrick Marriner, a retired British paratrooper and Falklands veteran, is recruited by the Black Nationalist leader Kumalo’s exiled comrades to do the seemingly impossible — free Kumalo before the National Intelligence Service can rid themselves of international humiliation.”

       Secrets of State (n.) Bantam, UK, hc, 1991

       Spoils of War (n.) Bantam, UK, hc, 1994 [Kuwait]

   Algis Budrys, best known as a science fiction writer and critic, died on June 9th. For an overview of his career in that field, I can do no better than send you to Todd Mason’s blog, thanks to a tip from Bill Crider, from whom I borrowed the cover image below.

   Most of the other websites and blogs covering his passing will talk about his SF. He does have, however, one work cited in the Revised Crime Fiction IV, an artifact of sorts of the Cold War:

BUDRYS, ALGIS. Working name of Algirdas Jonas Budrys, 1931-2008.

      Who? (Pyramid, 1958, pb) Badger (U.K.), 1960. Film: British Lion 1974, released in the U.S. as Man Without a Face; also released as Man in the Steel Mask; and as Prisoner of the Skull (scw: John Gould; dir: Jack Gold).

   From wikipedia comes a detailed synopsis of the tale:

    “A Soviet team abducts Dr. Lucas Martino, a leading Allied physicist in charge of a secret, high-priority project called K-88.

    “Several months later, under American pressure, the Communist officials finally hand over an individual, claiming that he is Dr. Martino. The man has undergone extensive surgery for his injuries. He has a mechanical arm advanced beyond any produced in the West. More importantly, his face and head have been dramatically rebuilt, now resembling a near-featureless metal mask. A medical evaluation reveals that several of the man’s internal organs are also artificial. The Allies are suspicious that the Soviets have sent them a spy and are holding the real Martino for further interrogation.

    “The struggle to determine the man’s true identity is the novel’s central conflict.”

   But the book is much more than a Cold War espionage caper. Extracted from a review at www.trashfiction.co.uk/who.html is the following:

    “It’s a philosophical piece about the nature of human identity, and how bound up it is in the existence of a face. Does a man lose his past if he (literally) loses face? Can you trust such a man? Is human interaction possible if one party can’t read the facial expressions of the other?”

   When I received word of the death of Maureen Peters from John Herrington yesterday, I emailed my daughter Sarah immediately, as she’s the historical fiction expert in the family, and I thought she’d like to know. While Maureen Peters wrote a sizable number of books included in the Revised Crime Fiction IV, by Allen J. Hubin, under her own name she was known far more for her fiction about the past, most often re-creating the lives of women born to royalty.

   Here’s a portion of Sarah’s opening paragraphs about Maureen Peters on her blog, Reading the Past:

   There you have it. The secret is out. In the world of mystery fiction, Maureen Peters is far better well known as Veronica Black than she is as her own. For the rest of Sarah’s overview of her career, please follow the link above, and I hope you do.

   For more about Sister Joan, the contemporary nun who is the series character in many of the Veronica Black books, see this page on Philip Grosset’s website dedicated to clerical detectives:

   Said Maureen Peters about Sister Joan in an interview with her that you can find online:

   As Catherine Darby, Maureen Peters wrote books that were sold as Gothics, such as the 12 books in the “Falcon Saga,” but were really what Sarah calls “dark family sagas.” Or more precisely, she describes their plot lines this way: “Themes of illicit passion, family rivalry, witchcraft, revenge, and even reincarnation permeated the novels…”

         BIBLIOGRAPHY. Crime Fiction only.
[Expanded and revised from her entries in CFIV; British editions only, except as noted.]

PETERS, MAUREEN (1935-2008). Pseudonyms: Veronica Black, Catherine Darby, Elizabeth Law & Judith Rothman.

BLACK, VERONICA

Dangerous Inheritance (n.) Hale 1969 [England]
Portrait of Sarah (n.) Hale 1969 [England]
The Wayward Madonna (n.) Hale 1970 [England]
A Footfall in the Mist (n.) Hale 1971 [England]
Master of Malcarew (n.) Hale 1971 [England]
The Enchanted Grotto (n.) Hale 1972 [England]
Fair Kilmeny (n.) Hale 1972 [England]
Moonflete (n.) Hale 1972 [England]
Minstrel’s Leap (n.) Hale 1973 [England]
The House That Hated People (n.) Hale 1974 [England]
Spin Me a Shadow (n.) Hale 1974 [England]
Echo of Margaret (n.) Hale 1978 [England]
Greengirl (n.) Hale 1979 [England]
Pilgrim of Desire (n.) Hale 1979 [England]
Flame in the Snow (n.) Hale 1980 [England]
-Lover Dark, Lady Fair (n.) Hale 1983 [England]
Hoodman Blind (n.) Hale 1984

Last Seen Wearing (n.) Hale 1990 [England]
A Vow of Silence (n.) Hale 1990 [Sister Joan; England]

Vow of Chastity (n.) Hale 1991 [Sister Joan; England]
My Name Is Polly Winter (n.) Hale 1992 [England]
A Vow of Obedience (n.) Hale 1993 [Sister Joan; England]
A Vow of Sanctity (n.) Hale 1993 [Sister Joan; Scotland]
A Vow of Devotion (n.) Hale 1994 [Sister Joan; England]
A Vow of Penance (n.) Hale 1994 [Sister Joan; England]
A Vow of Fidelity (n.) Hale 1995 [Sister Joan; England]

A Vow of Adoration (n.) Hale 1996 [Sister Joan; England]
Vow of Poverty (n.) Hale 1996 [Sister Joan; England]
A Vow of Compassion (n.) Hale 1997 [Sister Joan; England]
Vow of Evil (n.) Hale 2004 [Sister Joan; England]

DARBY, CATHERINE [All were published first in the US as paperback originals.]

-A Falcon for a Witch (n.) Popular Library 1975 [Falcon Saga #1; England; 1910 ca.]

-The King’s Falcon (n.) Popular Library 1975 [Falcon Saga #2; England; 1644]
-Fortune for a Falcon (n.) Popular Library 1975 [Falcon Saga #3; England]
-Season of the Falcon (n.) Popular Library 1976 [Falcon Saga #4; England; 1774]
-Falcon Royal (n.) Popular Library 1976 [Falcon Saga #5; England]
-The Falcon Tree (n.) Popular Library 1976 [Falcon Saga #6; England; 1841]
-The Falcon and the Moon (n.) Popular Library 1976 [Falcon Saga #7; England; 1886]

-Falcon Rising (n.) Popular Library 1976 [Falcon Saga #8; England; 1818]
-Falcon Sunset (n.) Popular Library 1976 [Falcon Saga #9; England; 1916]
Whisper Down the Moon (n.) Popular Library 1977 [Moon Chalice Quest #1; England]

Frost on the Moon (n.) Popular Library 1977 [Moon Chalice Quest #2; England]
The Flaunting Moon (n.) Popular Library 1977 [Moon Chalice Quest #3; England; 1644]
Sing Me a Moon (n.) Popular Library 1977 [Moon Chalice Quest #4; England]
Cobweb Across the Moon (n.) Popular Library 1978 [Moon Chalice Quest #5; England]
Moon in Pisces (n.) Popular Library 1978 [Moon Chalice Quest #6; England; 1800s]
-Seed of the Falcon (n.) Popular Library 1978 [Falcon Saga #10; England]
-Falcon’s Claw (n.) Popular Library 1978 [Falcon Saga #11; England; 1399]
-Falcon to the Lure (n.) Popular Library 1978 [Falcon Saga #12; England]

LAW, ELIZABETH

ROTHMAN, JUDITH

   For a complete listing of all of Maureen Peters’ fiction, see the Fantastic Fiction webpage for her.

   It was Juri Nummelin who on his blog was one of the first to post the news of Zekial Marko’s passing. A brief obituary can be found in its entirety on the Writers Guild of America website.

   Here’s a shortened version:

   Marko’s list of TV credits would in itself qualify his death be mentioned on this blog. What the obituary does not say, however, but what has been known to fans of his work for some time, is that he was also “John Trinian,” author of a small eclectic set of mystery and crime paperbacks written back in the 1960s.

   It turns out that Al Hubin already knew this – the name behind the names is included in Crime Fiction IV, as you can easily check. What’s not there, but will appear in the next installment of the online Addenda — and right here, right now, of course — is any biographical information about Markos, including the year he was born (1933) and the fact that his name at birth was Marvin Leroy Schmoker. The latter Juri learned from a relative of Marko’s who contacted him after he died, perhaps because Juri had written about John Trinian on his blog and elsewhere.

   Based on and expanded from his entry in CFIV, here’s the list of all of Trinian’s paperback mystery fiction:

      A Game of Flesh. Bedside Book BB106, 1959; Lancer/Domino 72-678, 1963; Macfadden 75-360, 1970. “An explosive novel of a wanton gigolo and the love-starved women he shamed!”

      The Big Grab. Pyramid G548, 1960; Manor 95230, 1973. Reprinted earlier as Any Number Can Win. Pyramid F-925, 1963. “Their take would be a cool quarter of a million-or a hot slug in the gut.” Film: Cipra, 1963, as Melodie en Sous-Sol (Basement Melody). Released in Britain as The Big Grab; released in the U.S. as Any Number Can Win. Stars: Jean Gabin, Alain Delon.

      North Beach Girl. Gold Medal s1000, 1960. Reprinted as Strange Lovers. Macfadden 60-301, 1967. [A novel set in the San Francisco beat world of the Fifties.]

      The Savage Breast. Gold Medal s1104, 1961; Macfadden 60-330, 1968. “Born beautiful, spoiled rotten..was she a goddess to be loved or a tigress to be tamed?”

      Scratch a Thief. Ace Double F-107, 1961. Also published as: Once a Thief. Gold Medal k1569, 1965, as by Zekial Marko; and under the latter title as by John Trinian: Manor 95272, 1973. “A blood and guts book about a cop with a grudge and an ex-con who wanted to go straight…” Film: MGM, 1965, as Once a Thief; in French: Les Tueuers de San Francisco. (scw: Zekial Marko; dir: Ralph Nelson). Stars: Alain Delon, Ann-Margret. [Go here for a short clip from the film.]

      House of Evil. Pyramid F-712, 1962. [?? Macfadden-Bartell, 1970] “The story of a Hollywood sex cult.”

      Scandal on the Sand. Gold Medal k1449, 1964. Macfadden-Bartell 75-338, 1970.

   Reviews or commentary on Trinian’s work are few and hard to come by, but on Ed Gorman’s blog he had this to say, not too long ago:

   What better things could one writer say about another? A fitting way to end this short tribute, I hope you’ll agree.

[UPDATE.] Later the same day. Keen eyes on your part may have noticed the same thing I did. It is true, it is he, and this small bit of information is what a followup post, coming up soon, will be all about.