JEREMIAH HEALY – Shallow Graves. John Francis Cuddy #7. Pocket Books, hardcover, 1992; paperback, 1993.

   I’m on record as believing Jerry Healy to be one of the better of Chandler’s heirs. He’s one of a group — Greenleaf, Nealy, Lyons, Valin, Estleman — that are somehow linked in my mind as the wave of the 80s, though Lyons got a head-start in the late 7Os. To be honest, obligatory homage to Chandler aside, Macdonald and Lyons, with perhaps a soupçon of Parker, would probably be more appropriately listed as influences.

   Whatever the taxonomy or genealogy, he still ranks in the forefront of current practitioners in my opinion.

   Cuddy is hired by the insurance company that once fired him to investigate a claim on a murdered model. He accepts only out of sympathy and liking for the individual who was told to retain him, and has many questions as to the reason for it all. He begins to get an inkling when the father of the Amerasian model turns out to be a prominent gangster, and Cuddy finds himself walking a tightrope as his investigation takes him into the family’s past and secrets.

   The plot is not exceptional, but Healy’s writing is. He handles the characterization of his protagonist and his relationships as well as anyone, and better than many. His relations with the police are a paragon of realism compared to most of the field. Some of Healy’s novels I have finished with the feeling that this was one of the best of the breed; others with “just” the sense of having read a well-crafted, enjoyable example of one of the kinds of novels I enjoy most

   This was one of the latter, which is more than enough reason for me to recommend it. I do.

Often a warm-up act for folk singer Glenn Yarbrough, the psychedelic folk-rock due (Clark) Maffitt & (Brian) Davies made one LP in 1968, The Rise and Fall of Honesty. It was released on CD in 2010 with six bonus tracks.

JOHN SANDFORD – Storm Front. G. P. Putnam’s, hardcover, October 2013. Berkley, premium paperback, October 2014.

   Some of the reviews of this book on Amazon give it only one star, claiming that Sandford has sold them out, that he had someone else write it for him. This is based on the dedication, which is to Michelle Cook (now his wife) for her help in writing it and that she is now a novelist.

   Well, I can understand how other readers might feel about this. Many of them claimed to have noticed the difference in writing style within the first couple of chapters. I’m not at all surprised about this. I looked at the dedications that Sandford included in other books in his Virgil Flowers series — this is the seventh — and in them he thanks any number of other individuals for their help in writing them. What input that Sandford had in any of them remains unknown, but on the basis of the evidence, I’d say perhaps some sort of supervisory capacity, but little more than that.

   Virgil Flowers is the only agent of the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension in the southern part of the state, his immediate superior being Lucas Davenport, the leading protagonist of Sandford’s primary series of “Prey” books, each with a two-word titles ending in that word. My sense is that Flowers was a recurring character in those books before he headed off for his own adventures.

   What the Object of Interest is in Storm Front is an ancient sacred stele, an artifact stolen from an archaeological dig in Israel and brought to the US by a local (Minnesotan) college professor who is dying of cancer. What makes it so valuable is that the inscriptions on it suggest Solomon, the greatest king of the Jews, may actually have been Egyptian, turning the Middle East into even more of an uproar of religious hatreds.

   So all kinds of people are on Professor Jones’s trail as well. Israelis, some of whom may be Mossad agents, Hezbollah agents, Turks, Syrian, all kinds of collectors of curios and other arcane objects, TV personalities, plus a good (and good-looking) friend of Virgil’s named Ma Nobles, who has five or kids with maybe as many fathers, a bountiful bustline, and — even though Virgil is investigating her in regard to some fake antique lumber scheme she is cooking up — an IQ of some 150 or more.

   In spite of the controversy mentioned in the first paragraph above, I read the book on its own merits, as I always do. The first 200 pages were fine. Very enjoyable, I thought. Lots of action, lots of sly humor, interesting characters. What are they complaining about?

   Unfortunately at 200 pages in, this was only the halfway point. There were still 200 pages left to go. This is the point at which I think the author lost control of the book. The humorous byplay along the way seemed shoved aside to concentrate on the story, which was spinning its wheels, going nowhere fast. The characters, which were so fresh and new in the first half, suddenly began to fade and lose their personality, and they became far less interesting.

   What really goes wrong is that there are simply too many characters, and as a reader, I began to feel manipulated when they began to pop up only when they were needed before popping back out again. To tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure how the story ended, but without a scorecard, I’d long stopped caring about who the characters were, and what they ended up with.

   And at length the story did end, but in a strange anti-climactic finale that I found myself totally indifferent to. This is difficult to say, as it was obviously one the author had in mind all along, but frankly, it just didn’t work for me.

RUSS WINTERBOTHAM – The Red Planet. Monarch #270, paperback original, 1962. Armchair Fiction Double Novel, trade paperback, 2012; published in combo with The Shining City, by Rena M. Vale.

   This is the goods.

   I know I’ve used that term of incisive critical analysis before, but there’s no better way to describe a book packed with action, suspense, and characters just a bit deeper than they had to be. Call it Space Opera, call it Sci-Fi, but The Red Planet is an undeniably fast and thrilling ride.

   It’s also a bit of a murder mystery as first-person narrator astronaut Bill Drake describes the preparations for the first manned Mars expedition, commanded by Dr. Spartan, a brilliant egomaniac who seems averse to sharing the gory for what he considers his personal achievement.

   Dr. Spartan’s mania first manifests itself in a training accident that takes the life of an intended crew member. With no time to spare, the doctor decrees that the fallen comrade will be replaced by a qualified woman in the team, Gail Loring, and to allay outcries of moral impropriety (this was written in 1962, remember, when even the mild sex in the James Bond books raised eyebrows) she will marry him before take-off. Gail is a gal who knows her own mind however, and she decides Bill Drake would make a better husband-in-name-only — thus sealing Bill’s fate.

   The ensuing journey to the red planet (hence the title, huh?) is neatly done as author Winterbotham fleshes out the characters, throws in another mysterious death, and ratchets up the tension with personality conflicts till our party lands on Mars — which is where things really get exciting.

   Because it seems Dr. Spartan’s megalomania extends to his attitude towards the Martians: small but nasty plant/animal hybrids whom he regards as manifestly a lower life form who should be made acquainted with their new rulers. This naturally leads to a certain amount of bother, and the rousing finale is a pitched battle, rousingly-described, with the surviving crew members fighting for their lives as much against Dr. Spartan as against the Martian hordes.

   Winterbotham was apparently a very busy writer of westerns, horror and big-little books, and he keeps things moving right to the finish, in approved pulp-fashion. I can recommend this unreservedly to readers who like a fun, fast space adventure.

   The biggest surprise for me, however, was on the blurb page, where I read:

   â€œThe Author’s son-in-law is a member of the team developing the plasma space motor which is planned to carry men to Mars within the next ten years.”

   Did I miss a meeting?

Jazz singer Diannne Reeves, from her CD I Remember (Blue Note, 1991) —

GALLOWAY HOUSE. Pilot: “The Night Rider.” 1962. Johnny Cash (as Johnny Laredo), Dick Jones, Johnny Western, Merle Travis, Gordon Terry, Eddie Dean, Karen Downes. Story and screenplay: Helen Diller. Director: Michael Hinn.

   Two gimmicks are going on at once here. The first gimmick is the title of the proposed series. Galloway House was supposed to be an old-fashioned playhouse theater, complete with drawn red curtains and a emcee in full colorful regalia (straw boater hat, bow tie, suspenders), with one problem as far as I was concerned. The opening introduction was clipped from the version I saw, and the closing curtain and farewell remarks came as a surprise at the end.

   The second gimmick, as I understand it, and I had to hunt for a while online to discover this, was that each episode of the proposed series was to tell the story in songs and words, of a well-known country song. I don’t believe that country singer Johnny Cash was to be the star of each episode, but I haven’t found any online discussion about it, one way or the other.

   In this pilot (and only) episode the song was “Don’t Take Your Guns to Town,” one of Johnny Cash’s many hit songs. About half the show consists of the characters singing various country standards: around a campfire, at a saloon, and at a funeral. The primary story, of course, is that of a foolish young boy who wants to prove himself a man by taking his guns to town.

   Johnny Cash as the lonesome gunfighter doesn’t have to work hard to act troubled, regretful and sullen, but as effective as he is, truthfully he’s not much of an actor. Some of the other members of the cast were well-known western singers and stars. I’d like to add a special note of recognition to Karen Downes who played the saloon chorus girl, who sings “Skip to the Lou” in suitably sultry fashion. It was her only credit in either TV or the movies.

LUCY CORES – Corpse de Ballet. Duell Sloane & Pearce, hardcover, 1944. Collier, paperback, 1965. Rue Morgue Press, trade paperback, 2004 (shown).

   The first, and last, time he danced in his own ballet creation “Phoebus,” Izlomin went mad before its completion. Now cured, he plans to re-create his masterwork for the American Ballet Drama in New York City. This time he finishes the performance, but then apparently commits suicide by hanging himself.

   With the aid of Toni Ney, trained as a ballet dancer but who now writes an exercise column, Captain Andrew Torrant of New York’s finest investigates the circumstances surrounding Izlomin’s death and discovers a hotbed of intrigue and jealousy in the world of professional ballet,

   Balletomanes should appreciate this novel. I enjoyed it from the ballet aspect but found it otherwise lackluster.

Bibliographic Notes:  Lucy Cores has four entries in Al Hubin’s Crime Fiction IV. Corpse de Ballet was her second, with Painted for the Kill (1943) her first, also a case solved by both Toni Ney and Captain Tarrant. These were the protagonists’ only two appearances; both books are easily available from Rue Morgue Press.

   For more on Lucy Cores, the author herself, follow this link to the Rue Morgue website for a long biography of her.

Hurray for the Riff Raff is an American folk-blues band based in New Orleans. The lead vocalist is singer-songwriter and banjo player Alynda Lee Segarra.

From their latest CD, Small Town Heroes:

CLEOPATRA 2525. Syndicated. Episode #1 “Quest for Firepower” and episode #2 “Creegan.” January 17 & 24, 2000. Jennifer Sky (Cleopatra), Gina Torres (Hel), Victoria Pratt (Sarge), Patrick Kake (Mauser), Elizabeth Hawthorne (The Voice), Joel Tobeck (Creegan). Executive Producer: Sam Raimi. Created by R. J. Stewart and Robert G. Tapert.

   I’ve watched only the first two episodes, so far, and I’ve surprised myself by how much I enjoyed it. I can’t imagine the budget was all that large, but the sets are colorful and flashy, the special effects so-so or better, and who knows where the story line is going, but so far, so good.

   Cleopatra 2525 appeared as the first part of the “Back2Back Action Hour,” followed by Jack of All Trades, starring Bruce Campbell. Thirty-minute live action TV series have been scarce for quite a while, but for some reason I don’t recall, they came into vogue again in the early 2000’s.

   In the year 2525 (based on the song, I assume), the human race has been driven underground in a series of caverns connected by huge shafts by monstrous machines called Baileys. Fighting these new overloads are Hel and Sarge, both female, joined by Cleopatra, an exotic dancer from our era who was put into suspended animation after breast augmentation surgery that went badly.

   Of course the women who star in this show wear skimpy clothing. There’s no denying that. That’s part of the appeal. But they are decent actors, and they look good flying through the shafts that connect one part of their underground living quarters to another. Cleopatra — very blonde — is a bit of a ditz, but that’s part of the design, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

   She’s still learning her way around in episode two, which also features Creegan, an evil scientist whom I assume will be the women’s main adversary through the rest of the series. Creegan may also be a mad scientist, since his clown makeup outdoes The Joker of Batman fame by a country mile.

   I probably won’t report back on future viewings, but so far the two 22 minute episodes I have seen (after the commercials have been deleted) have done their job and drawn me in very well.

TARZAN AND THE SLAVE GIRL. RKO Radio Pictures, 1950. Lex Barker, Vanessa Brown, Robert Alda, Hurd Hatfield, Arthur Shields, Tony Caruso, Denise Darcel. Based on the charcaters created by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Director: Lee Sholem.

   After the first twenty minutes or so, I was all but ready to give up on Tarzan and the Slave Girl. There was a lot of frenetic activity in the jungle, a few tribes running amok, and what not. But it didn’t seem to be leading anywhere in particular.

   But I’m glad I kept watching, because this entry into the Tarzan filmography turned into a rather enjoyable escapist adventure. Directed by Lee Sholem, Tarzan and the Slave Girl is notable for being Lex Barker’s second portrayal of our eponymous hero and actress Vanessa Brown’s sole portrayal of Jane.

   The plot follows Tarzan as he seeks to rescue slave women held captive by a jungle tribe that is suffering from a mysterious health ailment. Tarzan teams up with a somewhat alcoholic game hunter named Neil (Robert Alda) to both find the aforementioned tribe’s hidden city and to rescue Jane and Neil’s would-be girlfriend, Lola (Denise Darcel). It’s a lighthearted little adventure film that, while not particularly memorable, ends up being quite fun to watch.