Friday, 18 October 2013

Final Call for Entries...

...to win a copy of The Art of Movie Storyboards, folks. The competition closes Sunday night, so if you haven't already – and a fair number of you have – you've still got the weekend to get your entry in. Follow this link:

WIN!!! Brand New Illustrated Book The Art of Movie Storyboards!

to find out how. And to further entice you, here's a couple more sumptuous spreads from the book, showing Hein Heckroth and Ivor Beddoes's storyboards from Powell and Pressburger's The Red Shoes, as well as storyboards for an abandoned film version of William Golding's Lord of the Flies:


You can click on the spreads to see them a bit larger, but to see them full size, I'm afraid you'll have to either enter the competition or go and buy the book.

Thursday, 17 October 2013

The Switch by Elmore Leonard: First Hardback Edition (Secker & Warburg, 1979); Book Review; Film Adaptation Life of Crime (2013)

Back in August, when I was nearing the end of my series of posts on the now late lamented Elmore Leonard, I noted in my review of Gold Coast that in the 1970s, Leonard could have been more accurately described as a paperback writer than a hardback author. (You'd be forgiven for wondering why such a distinction should matter to anyone, but it certainly mattered to Leonard, who appreciated the respectability – even if only perceived – that being published in hardback bestowed on his work.) Of the nine novels Leonard published in the '70s, six were issued straight to paperback in the US; but here in the UK, three of those six were published straight to hardback rather than paperback. One of them, Leonard's 1970 western Valdez is Coming, was published in hardback by Robert Hale (actually the year before the US Gold Medal softcover, in 1969); the other two were issued by Secker & Warburg.

In total Secker published four Leonard novels in the 1970s, and all four of their editions have become quite collectable. I've blogged about the two that were published as hardbacks in both the UK and the US – Fifty-Two Pickup (1974) and Unknown Man No. 89 (1977) – previously, but not the two that were only published in hardback in the UK, for the simple reason that I didn't own them. Now, however, I do. I'll be unveiling the scarcest one of all in my next Leonard post, but first, this:


The Switch, published in hardback by Secker & Warburg in 1979, the year after the US Bantam paperback. The dust jacket photography is by Bill Richmond, whose work also graces the jacket of Patricia Highsmith's fourth Tom Ripley novel, The Boy Who Followed Ripley. One book collecting curiosity of The Switch dust jacket is that you'd be hard pressed to find one that isn't price-clipped; there are roughly ten copies of the Secker edition for sale online right now, and every single one has a price-clipped jacket. My guess is that the publisher altered their cover price at the last moment and so clipped the wrappers themselves, although if that is the case, one wonders why they didn't sticker them on the flaps.


Anyway, tonally, The Switch is, I'd venture, the lightest of the novels Elmore Leonard published in the 1970s – if a novel about kidnapping and extortion can be described as "light". Certainly it stands in marked contrast to the somewhat more solemn Fifty-Two Pickup, with which it shares a number of themes, although here we get just the one (well-deserved) death and a climax that's not so much darkly ironic as downright comedic (it brought a smile to my face anyway). One could also make a useful comparison with 1980's Gold Coast, in that one of the chief protagonists is female – except that Leonard never really gets inside the head of Gold Coast's Karen DiCillia, whereas much of The Switch is shaped not only by the actions of Mickey Dawson, the woman who is kidnapped by ex-cons Louis Gara and Ordell Robbie in order to extract a million dollars from her property magnate husband Frank, but by her thoughts.

In fact, what it reminded me of most was the work of Kate Atkinson. I've no idea whether Atkinson has ever read Elmore Leonard, but it's striking how in The Switch Leonard's third person prose is littered with parenthetical asides, approximating Mickey's circuitous thought processes in much the same way as Atkinson would decades hence with Jackson Brodie or Ursula Todd. In that sense, Mickey has more in common with some of Leonard's male leads than his female characters – Jack Ryan from The Big Bounce and Unknown Man No. 89, say, or Calvin Maguire from Gold Coast: men who aren't sure of their place in the world, who are self-aware and prone to bouts of self-doubt or self-questioning, and yet who ultimately, when in a tight spot, can turn a situation to their advantage. As Mickey says, studying herself in a mirror, "Who are you?", answering: "If you don't know, you're gonna find out, aren't you?"


Incidentally, a film adaptation of The Switch, Life of Crime, recently debuted at the Toronto International Film Festival. Directed by Daniel Schechter and starring Jennifer Aniston as Mickey, John Hawkes as Louis and Mos Def as Ordell – intriguing casting there – the film received decent notices in The Guardian and Variety but slightly more lukewarm ones in The Hollywood Reporter and on Indiewire, the latter of whom also picked up on the fact that it's a sort-of prequel to Quentin Tarantino's Jackie Brown (1997) – or rather, The Switch is a sort-of prequel to Rum Punch (1992), in that not only do Louis and Ordell appear in both stories – played, in Jackie Brown, by Robert De Niro and Samuel L. Jackson – but so does Frank Dawson's girlfriend, Melanie, played by Isla Fisher in Life of Crime and Bridget Fonda in Jackie Brown. And for more Elmore Leonard intertexual fun, see my posts on Gold Coast, LaBrava, Stick and Road Dogs and this thread (and its antecedents) on the (sadly locked) Elmore Leonard forum.


According to Jean Henry Mead in her 1989 book Maverick Writers, Leonard had a special fondness for The Switch (alongside 1976's Swag). I, on the other hand, while I did enjoy The Switch, have a special fondness for the next Elmore Leonard novel I'll be looking at – and even more especially in this particular, rarely seen edition.

Wednesday, 16 October 2013

From the Lewes Book Fair: Vintage Paperbacks by Michael Dibdin, Isaac Asimov and Patricia Highsmith, Plus Some Children's Books

It's been a while since I've blogged about the Lewes Book Fair and the books I've bought thereat (is "thereat" even a word...?), chiefly because despite attending almost all of the fairs over the past year or so (apart from the one in May, due to little Edie choosing that weekend to make her grand entrance), I didn't buy a single book (this 1958 third impression of the Hart-Davis edition of Ray Bradbury's The Illustrated Man was, I believe, the last thing I got there). However, that dry spell was broken at Saturday's (12 October) event – the final one of the year (there were, I think, only four this year, as opposed to the usual five) – when I came away with three vintage paperbacks for a pound a pop, plus some kids' books; so before we get to those promised Elmore Leonard posts, I thought we could take a look at wot I got.


A 1980 first Sphere paperback edition of Michael Dibdin's debut novel, The Last Sherlock Holmes Story, originally published in hardback in 1978 by Jonathan Cape. I'm not quite sure why I decided to purchase this, given that my interest in Sherlock Holmes extends to Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss's Sherlock and not much farther, and that I still have umpteen Dibdin first editions – the majority of them Aurelio Zen novels – to read and blog about (the only ones I've covered thus far are the Zen books Ratking and And Then You Die). Maybe it was the Kingsley Amis blurb on the front cover wot did it – that and the fact that the book was only a quid, whereas a first edition would be more like sixty quid (and probably more).


A 1960 first Panther paperback edition of Isaac Asimov's Foundation, originally published in hardback in 1953 by Weidenfeld & Nicolson. I have a habit of occasionally picking up cheap paperback editions of science fiction classics with a view to, at some point, in some mythical future era where I miraculously have hours and hours of leisure time at my disposal (not retirement, before you suggest that; I doubt I'll ever be able to afford to retire), finally getting round to reading them (see also Brian W. Aldiss's Non-Stop). Never gonna happen, obviously, but dammit I can dream, can't I? The cover artist, by the way, is unknown (even to the illustrious Steve Holland) – as is the cover artist of the third and final paperback.


A 1968 first Macfadden paperback edition of Patricia Highsmith's Those Who Walk Away, originally published in hardback in the States in 1967 by Doubleday. This is my prize score from this bunch; unlike the other two paperbacks, which were published by British outfits, this one was was published by an American imprint, which, in conjunction with the fact that it's pretty scarce – there are at present just four copies on AbeBooks, all offered by US sellers – makes it quite unusual in the context of it being found at a provincial British book fair. I actually already own the novel in its 1967 UK Heinemann edition – see the recently established Existential Ennui Patricia Highsmith First Edition Book Cover Gallery – but such is my passion for Highsmith I couldn't resist nabbing this too, especially for a pound.

Those, then, were the books I bought for myself at the Lewes Book Fair. But I also bought three books for Edie, who made a special guest appearance at the fair (to the accompaniment of much cooing and the odd comment about starting her reading rather young). In fact Edie did better than I did on the day, because Rachel subsequently picked out a couple more books for her from the Red Cross charity shop (newly reopened as a children's outlet) at the top of Station Street, so that Edie's haul in the end looked like this:


Left to right we have Jemmy Button by Jennifer Uman and Valerio Vidali; Red Ted and the Lost Things by Michael Rosen and Joel Stewart; Marigold Garden by Kate Greenaway; The Eleventh Hour by Graeme Base; and Noddy Meets Father Christmas by Enid Blyton. (That last one we're of course keeping in reserve for Christmas.) Phew. As Bruce Forsyth was once wont to say: didn't she do well?

Friday, 11 October 2013

Artie Wu and Quincy Durant in Ross Thomas's Out on the Rim (Century/Mysterious Press, 1987), Sequel to Chinaman's Chance

NB: Proffered as part of this Friday's Forgotten Books. And a quick aside to anyone directed here as a result of FFB: I'm running a competition at the moment to win one of three copies of brand new illustrated book The Art of Movie Storyboards, so if that tickles your fancy, go here for more details.

Cast your minds back to the dying days of 2012, when I posted Existential Ennui's Review of the Year in Books and Comics (I'm going to assume here you follow Existential Ennui slavishly and have read every single thing I've ever posted), in which, among other matters, I lamented the lack of Existential Ennui posts on Ross Thomas over the preceding twelve (at least) months. See, despite thoroughly enjoying the half-dozen Thomas novels I'd read prior to 2012, I didn't manage to crack the spine of a single Thomas book last year. And so when I vowed, in a post titled On Reading (and Books Blogging) in February of this year, that henceforth I'd be basing my reading not around which books I reckoned would make for good blog posts, but around those I simply wanted to read (a fine distinction, I know, but hopefully I explained it a bit better in that post), one of the authors I had in mind was Ross Thomas.

That it's taken me an additional six or seven months to finally get round to Thomas will give you an idea of how many must-read books I have on my shelves clamouring for my attention (the arrival of little Edie had something to do with it too), but if I'm only going to be able to find time for one Ross Thomas novel a year (a reasonable assumption, on the available evidence), I might as well pick the ones I'm keenest to read. Which brings me to Out on the Rim:


published in this edition by Century Hutchinson in the UK in 1987 (dust jacket design uncredited) and the same year by Mysterious Press in the US. It's the second in Thomas's three-book series featuring grifters Artie Wu and Quincy Durant (the third being 1992's Voodoo, Ltd.), and therefore the sequel to my favourite of the Thomas novels I've read thus far, 1978's Chinaman's Chance (which I loved so much I consequently acquired a signed edition). So you can see why I've been anticipating diving into Out on the Rim ever since I bought this copy three years ago... actually, in truth, I have and I haven't – because there's always that sense of trepidation with sequels to much-loved originals that they might not live up to expectations – or rather, that they might live down to them.


You'll be unsurprised to learn, then, that Out on the Rim isn't quite the equal of Chinaman's Chance. The elements are all in place: the long con; the cast of colourful – and colourfully named – characters; the double- and triple-crossing. But as Ethan Iverson notes in his mammoth overview of Thomas's oeuvre, there's so much obfuscation on the part of Thomas that it's hard to get a handle on exactly what's going on, even though what is going on is never less than agreeable, not to mention intriguing and frequently gripping.


The sometimes opaque and certainly labyrinthine plot centres on Booth Stallings, a terrorism expert tasked by... somebody (precisely who only becomes clear at the close of the story) with enticing guerilla-turned-terrorist Alejandro Espiritu – alongside whom Booth fought in World War II – down from the Philippine mountains with five million dollars – a sum which Booth, with the assistance of Wu and Durant, intends instead to steal. As with Chinaman's Chance, however, it's the characters who are the chief attraction... at least some of them – Booth in particular, who acts as the conscience (as far as that goes) of the book, but also loathsome bit-part hustler Boy Howdy (ah, those delicious Thomas names...) and, making a return from the first novel, Otherguy Overby, here exhibiting a steely determination that lifts him from supporting artiste to one of the most engaging players in the novel (I found the guessing game over where his true allegiances lie one of the more captivating aspects of the story).

By comparison Wu and especially Durant suffer somewhat. Artie is granted a few "smartest guy in the room" moments but poor old Quincy ("that fucking Durant") is relegated almost to the role of hired muscle, reduced to leaning against a succession of walls and glowering. And somewhere in the middle falls Georgia Blue, Quincy's one-time lover and Booth's right-hand woman, who for me never quite comes into focus as a protagonist in her own right.


Still, let's not get carried away with the criticism: this is, after all, Ross Thomas we're talking about, an author who to my mind is up there with Donald E. Westlake and Elmore Leonard in the American mystery writer pantheon – exalted company indeed, and with whom he shares certain sensibilities: a litheness of prose, an ear for dialogue, a way with character. And Out on the Rim amply displays all of those, and more. Don't take my word for it: Elmore Leonard himself blurbed the book, calling it "really good" and adding for emphasis: "I mean it's really good. Ross Thomas takes us Out on the Rim with a stunning array of characters working a plot that twists and slithers, never stops." Well said that man.

Appropriately enough, it's to Elmore Leonard that I'll be (re)turning next, with two classic 1970s novels, both in scarce editions, one of them incredibly so.

Wednesday, 9 October 2013

WIN!!! Brand New Illustrated Book The Art of Movie Storyboards!

NB: COMPETITION NOW CLOSED.

As trailed at the end of last week, it's competition time! Woo! I've only run competitions on Existential Ennui twice before, so you know I'd have to have something pretty darn special to give away in order for me to use up valuable blogging time and energy on such an endeavour. And indeed I do – in fact I can personally vouch for the excellence of the prize, as I had a hand in its creation.

There are three copies of this up for grabs:


The Art of Movie Storyboards, published this week by The Ilex Press in the UK and next week by Chronicle Books in the US (where it's going under the title of simply Movie Storyboards). Written and researched by Fionnuala Halligan, it's a great big 240-page hardback exploring the rich history of movie storyboards, from early pioneers like William Cameron Menzies (Gone with the Wind, Spellbound), Saul Bass (The Birds, Psycho), Hein Heckroth and Ivor Beddoes (The Red Shoes) to modern day artists like Temple Clark (Cold Mountain, The Invisible Woman), Jane Clark (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire) and David Allcock (Anna Karenina). In amongst those are storyboards from such film classics as, deep breath, Spellbound, Rebel Without a Cause, Spartacus, West Side Story, The Longest Day, To Kill a Mockingbird, Star Wars, Apocalypse Now, The Crow, Brazil, Caravaggio, Animal Farm, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Oldboy, Pan's Labyrinth and Gladiator.


As I say, I can testify to all this because I edited the book, in my day job capacity as managing editor at Ilex – although I should further point out that any credit should go to author Fionnuala and picture editor Katie Greenwood, who between them managed to source and secure artwork from all of the above films, plus more besides (no easy task, let me assure you). Still, it was nice to be involved in the process – slavering over the scans of Akira Kurosawa's gorgeous painted storyboards for Ran when they arrived; poring over Martin Scorsese's own simple but fascinating boards for "Sugar Ray 3", an entire fight sequence from Raging Bull; puzzling over whether we'd got the order right for the sequences from Raiders of the Lost Ark and Pather Panchali (we did – I think) – and I can take some satisfaction in having played a minor part in the creation of such a splendid tome.


And having sung its praises so thoroughly, the least I can do is tell you how you can get your hands on a copy (aside from purchasing one, obviously). To be in with a chance of winning one of the three copies I have to give away, answer this question correctly: above you can see Wiard B. Ihnen's evocative storyboards for Fritz Lang's 1941 film Man Hunt, but which 1939 novel is the film based on? As a clue, I've blogged about the book multiple times on Existential Ennui – in fact, you could say its author is a household name round these parts.

Answers, along with your name and address, should be emailed under the subject line "Movie Storyboards" to:

existentialennui@gmail.com

The competition closes Sunday 20 October at midnight EST; all entries will go into the nearest available receptacle to be drawn at the start of the following week, with the winners announced shortly thereafter. The giveaway is open to pretty much everyone – whether based in the UK, the US, Australia, Belgium, wherever – although it's probably best if no one related to me enters (I'm looking at you, Edie). Don't forget you can read more about the book here:

Ilex Press: The Art of Movie Storyboards

read a Q&A with the author here:

Q&A Time with Fionnuala Halligan

get an idea of what Total Film think of the book here:

'Pure Eye Candy' – Total Film

and buy the thing here and here. Good luck!

Friday, 4 October 2013

Competition Time... Competition Time...

A wee announcement before the weekend: next week I'll be running that rarest of beasts on Existential Ennui, a competition. Up for grabs will be three copies of this:


The Art of Movie Storyboards by Fionnuala Halligan, soon to be published in the UK by The Ilex Press, and in the US under the title of simply Movie Storyboards by Chronicle Books. It's a splendid 240-page 10" x 11" hardback beast of a thing, featuring little-seen storyboard art from over forty of the greatest films ever made, including Gone with the Wind, Psycho, Rebel Without a Cause, The Red Shoes, To Kill a Mockingbird, Star Wars, Apocalypse Now, Raging Bull, Brazil, Ran, Oldboy, Pan's Labyrinth... well, you get the idea. It is, by any estimation, a sumptuous visual feast, but it's also a darn good read, with enlightening info on the films and the storyboards and commentary from the artists. I know all this for a fact because I edited the thing, in my capacity as managing editor at Ilex, and I'm immensely pleased with how it turned out; there's been a copy on my desk for a while now, which every now and then I pause from my chores to fondle lovingly. (The book, not the desk. That would be weird.)


You can read more about The Art of Movie Storyboards by heading here:

Ilex Press: The Art of Movie Storyboards

and there's a Q&A with the author, Finn, here:

Q&A Time with Fionnuala Halligan

I'll be back next week with details of how you can win a copy, plus maybe some musings on how the book came together. (And in the meantime, and if you haven't already, why not go read this week's Existential Ennui posts, on my most recent permanent page, the Patricia Highsmith First Edition Book Cover Gallery; Richard Stark's Parker crime novel Run Lethal; and Tom Clancy, who passed away earlier this week.)