Nathan Heller, Blue Christmas Project & Mickey Spillane

January 3rd, 2023 by Max Allan Collins

I have just completed my proofing of the typeset version of Too Many Bullets, the next (and perhaps final) Nathan Heller novel, coming from Hard Case Crime in the fall of 2023, which seems to be the year we find ourselves in.

A certain number of the hearty souls who check in here regularly (and also those who show up irregularly) are readers of my Quarry, Nolan and other series whose entries run in the traditional 60,000 words or so length. Some others may be comics fan who are interested in Ms. Tree, Road to Perdition and my other occasional forays into graphic noveldom.

This means, these readers have not yet sampled Nathan Heller, the series I consider my best and most significant work. It may be because the books deal with history and these readers are unaware that historical subject matter does not discourage me from trafficking in sex and violence; or perhaps they are put off by the length – these two HCC Heller novels are 80,000 words each. I say gently to these folks that another 20,000 words or so will not kill you, nor will the historical content, although the research for these two recent Hellers damn near killed me. I remind these readers that later this month (delayed by a dock strike in London) physical copies of the new Heller, The Big Bundle, will be available. The e-book and (I think) the audio versions are both available now.

But a certain kind of reader – I will not go so far as to invoke OCD or Anal Retentive tendencies, having both of those conditions myself – won’t start reading a new series anywhere but the beginning. Despite my concerted efforts to make each Heller novel stand alone, such readers are stubborn about starting at the start.

For that reason I am pleased to announce that True Detective (1983) will be promoted via Amazon Monthly Deals: starting 1/1/2023 and running through 1/31/2023, the first Nathan Heller novel (a winner of the Best Novel Shamus from the Private Eye Writers of America) will be offered on e-book at 1.99 USD.

True Detective Thomas and Mercer cover
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Doing the read-through (and tweaking of) Too Many Bullets was an interesting experience. I felt generally very good about the book – in fact, I was really satisfied with it and felt like it showed me at the top of my game.

And I was writing well during the months of actual writing (many months of research preceded that), despite having health issues then, including two brief hospital stays related to my A-fib. But despite what I felt was a high standard of work, I also came across uncharacteristic lapses – word repetition, pronoun confusion, and occasional lack of clarity.

It was odd to see me with my powers intact but now and then flagging, probably due to those health issues. Thankfully I am doing much better on that front, but it was sobering to see the lapses. I’m sure advancing age is another factor. But I will keep at this as long as my marbles are more or less intact.

Still, I’m sure my HCC editor Charles Ardai will wince when he sees I am sending 44 correction pages out of 300 hundred pages or so.

As for whether there will be another Heller novel after Too Many Bullets, that depends on sales, frankly. I have yet to write the major Heller/Hoffa novel I’ve had in mind for, oh, thirty years.

But we are at least nearing the end of Heller’s run. The research is just too daunting for a duffer.

* * *

About a month ago, here, I wrote this (feel free to skip):

I’ve told this story before, but I’ll tell it again on the occasion of the Christmas Season. Just before Thanksgiving 1992 – right before – I received a letter from the Chicago Tribune Syndicate editor letting me go from the Dick Tracy strip after my 15 year run. Shortly thereafter Bantam cancelled Nate Heller and returned the novel Carnal Hours to me after the editor there had accepted it enthusiastically. (The previous entry, Stolen Away, had won the Best Novel “Shamus” award from the Private Eye Writers of America.)

On Christmas Eve 1992, still shellshocked, I wrote “A Wreath for Marley,” the lead story in the Blue Christmas collection ($2.99 on e-book). It has been published several times, including in the Otto Penzler anthology, The Big Book of Christmas Mysteries. The story is what they call (hideously) a “mash-up” – of A Christmas Carol and The Maltese Falcon. Its significance is that it showed me getting back into the game after two bad batterings. The story is a long one, probably 15,000 words, and was done in one fevered sitting. It remains my favorite short story of mine.

It almost became my second indie movie – there’s a script, you will not be surprised to learn – but the success of Mommy led to us deciding to do Mommy’s Day instead.

Since I wrote this post, I’ve been exploring – with Chad Bishop, who put together Encore for Murder with me as a video presentation (stay tuned) – mounting a production of Blue Christmas here in Muscatine that could be presented as a live performance but also shot as a feature much as we did Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life.

But Blue Christmas exists as a novella and as a film script, and no live performance version was ever written. Adding a second level of problems, er, challenges, a script for the stage is needed, with an eye on putting together the feature. So it needed to be a hybrid – a screenplay written for the live-performance stage.

Does your head hurt yet?

Still, I have long intended to someday take the time to write a stage play version of Blue Christmas. It’s a story I believe in and that has special resonance for me, as the piece of fiction I wrote on a long-ago Christmas eve that got me back up on the one-horse sleigh writing again after having my career get yanked out from under me.

Anyway, I spent a week on it, over Christmas (appropriately) and I’m very happy with it. Putting together a piece that was intended to have fairly elaborate special effects for a low-budget indie film and doing it instead live on stage…tricky. I am proud of how I solved the challenges…the problems…as the only stage play I’ve previously written is Eliot Ness.

But, as I say, it’s set up in a screenplay manner, in part because we are going after a couple of grants that are intended for backing low-budget feature films, not stage productions.

In the meantime, I’m entering Encore for Murder in a couple of Iowa film festivals, getting back in the game a little. As much as I love writing fiction – and even relish the solitary nature of it – I have to admit I’m never happier than when I’m in an editing suite working with my pal, Phil Dingeldein. And working with Chad Bishop has been a joy, as well.

Speaking of Phil, last Thursday he and a two-person crew – Justin Hall and Hannah Miner – came to Muscatine and shot the additional footage for our expanded version of Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane. The original documentary was shot in 1998 and released in 1999, and this brings the Spillane story up to date, from Mickey’s final years through the work I’ve done completing his unfinished manuscripts.

We are talking to VCI, who have released a lot of my stuff in the past (but never the Spillane doc) and hope to include Encore for Murder as a bonus feature. It’s a natural flow as we have Gary Sandy talking about playing Mike Hammer in the new documentary footage.

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Here’s a two-party review of several of my Batman issues. These fans don’t realize that I was subjected to artist changes (artists who apparently didn’t have access to character designs from the previous issue!) and that no Batman “bible” existed, meaning I had to fly by my bat wings into unknown backstory territory. They do like my Penguin story, however.

Road to Perdition is back on Netflix.

Finally, here’s a great write-up on the forthcoming Nolan two-fer, Mad Money.

M.A.C.

Bob Dylan, Private Eye? Also, Christmas 2022!

December 27th, 2022 by Max Allan Collins

We had an official Christmas at the Collins household this year. My definition of an Official Christmas includes the following:

1. Receiving a Pee Wee Herman Christmas card from Paul Reubens.

2. My wife’s Christmas cookies (her late Grandmother Mull’s recipe).

3. Spending Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Collins and our grandchildren, Sam, 7, and Lucy, 4.

4. Watching the Alastair Sim version of Scrooge

5. Watching the original Miracle on 34th Street

Barbara Allan sitting in front of a Christmas tree.
Children and grandchildren sitting in front of a Christmas tree.
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As was the case with so many of you, we here in Iowa were gifted with weather that looked like Christmas and felt like Hell. It did not get in the way of our excessive exchange of gifts and consumption of food, all of which went off as planned. That Nate, Abby, Sam and Lucy live just seven houses up the street from us made Christmas almost as joyful as Covid lockdown.

The Philosophy of Modern Song cover

Among the many gifts I received – physical media like books and CDs (remember those?) – was a tome entitled The Philosophy of Modern Song by Bob Dylan. To discuss that volume properly, I need to back up over almost sixty years ago to share with you my relationship with Bob Dylan.

No, I never met him. But he was a major part of the regular poker sessions I attended with my high school buddies, including such names meaningless to you as Jan McRoberts, Jim Hoffmann, Mike Bloom, Ron Parker, Jon McRae and John Leuck. Others came and went, but those were the regulars. Jan, Jim and Jon are gone, but I am happy to say Mike, Ron and John are still with us.

John was a latecomer to the poker group. He had attended Catholic schools until junior or senior high school sometime; around then he moved in next door to Mike Bloom and they became fast friends – they were both swimming champs. A strikingly handsome young man, John was hipper than the rest of us. More sophisticated.

We always listened to the Beatles, the Turtles and Sonny & Cher while we played cards…except when we played at John’s. He put on James Brown records, which just sounded like ridiculous noise to me at the time. He also played Bob Dylan records. These albums included the pre-electric ones, and I had never heard anything worse in my life. The singing was nasal and off-key and the lyrics to the self-composed songs were gibberish.

My dislike, nay, my contempt was such that on the rare occasions when I was winning at poker, John would smile to himself and put some Bob Dylan on and I would begin to lose. Actually, not “begin” – I would immediately tumble into the abyss of defeat, leaving behind money earned at my bus boy job, money I could ill afford to lose.

Playing in a rock combo as I did, my opinion of Dylan (and James Brown) changed over the coming years, particularly as pertained to songwriting. Some of the latter seemed laughably pretentious (actually, kinda still does), but undeniably a lot of wonderful songs were in there – the Turtles doing “It Ain’t Me Babe,” the Association “One Too Many Mornings,” the Byrds any number of things, all and more were favorites of mine then and now.

John Lennon (among many others) started imitating Dylan’s singing style, only largely minus the nasal aspect and on key. With our comics-professionals band Seduction of the Innocent at San Diego Comic Con, we played the heart-breaking “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” (miss you, Miguel) and the audience was properly swept up in it. This continued for…forever, with Tom Petty essentially becoming the Bob Dylan Who Sang in Tune.

Now and then I have actually warmed to a Dylan-sung song, though my hand still goes at once to the radio to get rid of “Like a Rolling Stone” or “Lay Lady Lay.” And, years after the fact, I learned that my musical idol, Bobby Darin, was an early proponent of Dylan’s work (so early on that BD pronounced it “die-linn” in interviews). Now I know that Bob Dylan was (and is) a proponent of Darin’s.

I found this out reading perhaps the best book I received this Christmas (among a number of wonderful additions to my library), The Philosophy of Modern Song by…wait for it…Bob Dylan.

My God, it’s a wonderful read. It is, not surprisingly, an idiosyncratic ride that is at once random and rigidly organized, festooned with fun and apt and sometimes heartbreaking pictures (news photos, movie stills, comic book pages, pulp covers) that illustrate a collection of Dylan’s reactions to various songs and artists. A fun fifties fan magazine-portrait of Miguel’s mom Rosemary Clooney beaming in her front doorway is across from the “Come On-A My House” essay, which terms that jaunty number as “The song of the guy who’s got thirty corpses under his basement and human skulls in the refrigerator.”

Though arranged like chapters, no exact format reveals itself. An essay may be seven pages long (“Black Magic Woman” by Santana) or one paragraph (“Long Tall Sally”). Often the song is discussed by way of Dylan’s personal transformation of that song into a story. Sometimes, not always, such a mini-essay is followed by a knowing, compassionate appraisal of the artist.

This is not a book I consumed cover to cover. I am still reading it – gradually. It’s what I’d call a “bedroom book,” from which I assign myself a few chapters before my mind moves itself away from my problems and concerns into whatever I’m reading – in this case, a talented man’s response to songs that touched him. (It is definitely not a “bathroom book.”) I have gravitated to the subjects that interest me most – his essays on Johnnie Ray, Dean Martin, Rick Nelson and Little Richard were among those I was first drawn to, and impressed by. Some of the songs discussed (and artists) are obscure, and I’ll get around to them in this 300-plus-page book. Entries focused more on song than artist include “Volare” and especially “Where Or When,” though Dion gets some nice attention there. Some essays are a bit befuddling, like the fairly lengthy look at “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” that doesn’t mention Eric Burden and the Animals and barely references Nina Simone.

The biggest surprise to me, however, is the prose style itself. This guy Bob Dylan could have been a great crime writer, a private eye chronicler par excellence. Listen to him riffing on Rick Nelson’s “Poor Little Fool”:

You went on a spree and left a trail of sensitive violated hearts, but that came to an end when you ran up against someone who buckled you, one on one, who made you fall to pieces and eat the dirt. You were brainless, no doubt about that. She played with you and teased you with her happy-go-lucky ways, she was easygoing and cheerful, unbothered. She fondled and stroked you, and with her baby blue peepers she enchanted you, she was a real knockout. She sized you up, she was captivating and shrewd and lousy with lies. Oh yeah, you were an absolute blockhead beyond a doubt.

…Now you’re obsolete and out of date, and you’re walking in the night down by the river, but the water’s dead. You’re moving one leg at a time. Another girl has got her hand on your shoulder….

The Philosophy of Modern Song is filled with prose like this, stuff Chandler or Spillane (not Hammett) might have written. It hits me in a personal place. I am not a reader of poetry. Generally, outside of songwriting, I don’t like it. It makes me think of what Kurt Vonnegut told us, typically deadpan wry, when he visited the Writers Workshop (where a year before he’d been teaching): “Fiction writers resent poets because poets are always between works.”

What I like is poetic prose, if it’s not overdone. Several of my contemporaries in the private eye field (whose names I will not mention) are lauded by fans for wonderful prose…writing that curdles my stomach. Chandler and Spillane could do this poetic prose and hardly anybody since, profundity tumbling out of a mouth with a Lucky Strike dangling out of it. Some writers in crime fiction are smart enough not to try – Don Westlake always said, “Good writing is invisible.”

But, damn, I wish Bob Dylan had just written songs and the occasional private eye novel, or that I had learned to look past the nasal tones and off-key singing and let his personal poetry get through to me, unfiltered.

By the way, Bobby Darin gets two chapters in Dylan’s book, the only artist who does. Check this out for proof.

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This essay says Daniel Craig’s best movie is…wait for it….

M.A.C.

Blue Christmas News Flash

December 21st, 2022 by Nathan Collins

Just in time for the holidays, Blue Christmas and Other Holiday Homicides is only $0.99 on the Amazon Kindle store. (Sale ends December 27th.) This killer collection includes six holiday-themed stories: “A Wreath for Marley” (Christmas), “Mommy” (Mother’s Day), “Flowers for Bill O’Reilly” (Memorial Day), “His Father’s Ghost” (Father’s Day), “Firecracker Kill” (Fourth of July), and “A Bird for Becky” (Thanksgiving). Don’t miss this deal!

Blue Christmas and Other Holiday Homicides
E-Book: Amazon Purchase Link

Publisher’s Weekly, the Spillane Doc, Encore and More!

December 20th, 2022 by Max Allan Collins

For those of you looking for cyber stocking stuffers, or who will need a way to use that Amazon gift cards you’ll be receiving, four of my books are on sale as Kindle titles right now for a meager $1.99 each until the end of 2022. You can avail yourself of the Collins/Clemens titles Executive Order, Fate of the Union, What Doesn’t Kill Her and my solo title, Girl Most Likely. Also available for $1.99 (not sure for how long) is my collaboration with SCTV’s Dave Thomas, The Many Lives of Jimmy Leighton, a science-fiction-tinged crime thriller.

The three Clemens co-authored titles are among my bestsellers at Amazon, and Girl and Jimmy are two of my personal favorites, which if you haven’t tried, you have this opportunity to brighten our mutual Christmases by doing so.

Executive Order cover
E-Book:
Fate of the Union cover
E-Book:
What Doesn't Kill Her cover
E-Book:
Girl Most Likely cover
E-Book: Amazon

The Many Lives of Jimmy Leighton cover
E-Book: Amazon Purchase Link

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Spillane – King of Pulp Fiction (Mysterious Press) will be out February 7 of next year, which is sooner than it sounds. James Traylor and I had a nice if brief interview with longtime Spillane buff Michael Barson in the latest Publisher’s Weekly.

You can see it here, including color photos of me and of co-author Jim Traylor, which we are considering releasing as NFT trading cards at $99 each.

This week I’m planning to shoot the material for the expanded edition of my 1999 documentary, Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane. Several years ago, the doc was edited (and slightly updated) from forty-eight minutes to thirty-some) for the Criterion release of Kiss Me Deadly.

I’ve been planning to reinsert some footage we cut initially (it had run something like fifty-three minutes), and to insert new interview footage with myself, to cover things not discussed and to include what has happened regarding Mickey’s work since his death in 2006.

Phil Dingeldein, my partner in cinematic crime, has found a very good copy of the documentary among our materials and shared it with me. At risk of sounding foolishly boastful, I had forgotten had good it was. Further, it was tightly edited with Chris Christiansen’s terrific score playing almost non-stop beneath. That made it problematic to insert anything that had been previously edited out, material we would have to locate among the dozens of tapes from the 1998 shoot. Mickey’s interview footage had taken up ten Betacam tapes alone.

And as tempting as it might be to restore what I’d been encouraged to cut years ago, disrupting the smooth edit of what arguably is my best work as a filmmaker is not worth doing. For this reason, I’ve decided to expand the current cut in a new way. It will open with an explanatory introduction by me, and at the conclusion of the original documentary a sort of epilogue will follow, bringing the Spillane story up to date. It will also expand the doc to around an hour, which is considered feature length in the documentary game.

The tricky thing is that this new footage will be primarily me talking on camera, which is something not even my late mother would have relished seeing. Our challenge is to include enough interesting visual material to edit over my mug as we can manage. Oh, you’ll see plenty of me, just not enough to turn most stomachs.

We will be covering Mickey’s final novel (Something’s Down There) and his passing, including his request to me to complete the last Mike Hammer novel (The Goliath Bone) and to develop his unfinished material. But it will also briefly discuss our friendship and our collaboration on various projects, including anthologies of his and other mystery writers, the Mike Danger comic book series, and the documentary the viewer will just have seen.

The focus will be on the posthumous collaborative novels and conclude with the 75th anniversary of Mike Hammer’s debut in I, the Jury (1947). We’ll include documentary footage of the production here in Muscatine, Iowa, of Encore for Murder with Gary Sandy, including interview footage with Gary and the actors who play Velda and Pat Chambers. This should connect Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane – the 75th Anniversary Edition nicely to the feature version we’ve recently completed of the Encore for Murder live performance. I am hopeful that we will see a Blu-ray and/or DVD of the new version of the Spillane doc with Encore for Murder as a bonus feature.

As I said, the expanded documentary will come in around sixty minutes or a tad under, and should be a good length for the streaming services and possibly for PBS. Whether Encore for Murder will stream or not, I can’t say. But I will do my best to make it available to any of you who are interested. I am probably too close to know how good it is or isn’t. Clearly Gary Sandy is wonderful as Mike, and the local actors are much better than I could ever have hoped. Several clearly are professional level, and everyone does well.

The production’s MVP is Chad Bishop, who has (under the burden of my supervision) edited Encore for Murder from the actual performance and two dress rehearsals, with the bulk of the footage taken from the former. Chad was the on-stage foley person – part of the fun of doing a Golden Age Radio-style show is having the sound effects performed on stage. But in addition to doing all the foley work, Chad was mixing the sound and laying in recorded sound effects and music cues…all done live. If he had not pulled that feat off, we couldn’t even have considered putting together a “movie” version of our production.

I know I’ve talked about this before, but I look back on what we did in September of this past year with a bit of wonder.

I was initially approached to do a Dick Tracy radio show and refused, then offered the use of my play “Encore for Murder,” which in 2011 Stacy Keach had recorded with a full cast for Blackstone audio. Later Gary Sandy had starred in live productions in Owensboro, Kentucky, in 2012, and in Clearwater, Florida, in 2018. I had been present for both, not directing but able to work with the director and actors in both cases.

So when local theater maven Karen Cooney – who is affiliated with the Muscatine Art Center – asked me to do a Golden Age Radio-style play, I of course thought of “Encore.” Initially I was going to play Hammer myself, but Karen suggested I ask Gary. It was a long shot, and I said I’d think about it.

Before taking that step, I wanted to see what kind of cast Karen had put together. I attended the first table read and was impressed. I went home and told Barb I thought the actors were quite good, but didn’t trust my judgment – I wanted them to be good, after all. Barb, who is totally no-nonsense (she has to be), agreed to come to the next rehearsal. I read Hammer, which seemed to perk the players up even further. When Barb and I went home, she said, “You’re right. They’re good.”

I called Phil and got the project on his radar. I told him if this thing came together, we should try to shoot it with multiple cameras. Throughout the month or rehearsals, co-directing with Karen, I kept Phil in the loop. But it wasn’t till the week of the performance that I said, “Let’s do this thing. I don’t want it to disappear into the ether.”

We shot the two rehearsals and the performance with multiple cameras (four), some provided and operated by Phil, others by Chad, who runs Muscatine’s public access channel 9. On performance night, unbeknownst to us, one of the key cameras ceased to function for the last ten minutes of the show. That’s one of the places where having dress rehearsal footage came in handy.

Keep in mind Gary was only present for three days. The rest of our cast is amateur (a few are pro-am, having appeared in some indie films). But we would at the very least have something for Chad’s public access channel, and I was – and am – hopeful one of the two PBS stations in my area might be interested.

I think it’s likely that the Spillane documentary will be on some streaming services. Whether Encore for Murder will be deemed worthy remains to be seen. I will let you know, and be frank about our fate.

As I said last week, I will be entering this into a couple of Iowa film festivals.

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Who Killed Santa?  A Murderville Murder Mystery

If you have Netflix, I would guess you are occasionally disappointed, even frustrated, by their original fare. But when they get it right, they get it right. And their Who Killed Santa? A Murderville Murder Mystery is hilariously wonderful. You should probably watch the six episodes of the Murderville series on Netflix first; but it should work on you even without that.

The premise is that a famous actor or sports star portrays the partner of Terry Seattle, a homicide cop played by Will Arnett. The mysteries are actually clever and can be solved if you pay attention, which the guest stars sometimes don’t. You see, they have not seen the script, which makes them the butt of the jokes cascading through each episode – at least when Arnett isn’t taking the comic heat himself.

It’s based on a wonderful British series, Murder in Successville, which ran for three seasons. The celebrities on Successville are not always recognizable to an American audience, but it works just the same. You can find those original episodes on You Tube. (I wrote a little bit about Murderville before, back in February of this fading year.)

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Matt Clemens and I did a joint interview on a podcast hosted by the talented and gracious Terrence McCauley that you may find of interest. Matt was excellent. I will tell you frankly that I sucked. I talked too much, I didn’t wait for the questions, I was searching for words, and my only excuse was the podcast hadn’t got on my calendar and I was caught flatfooted by it. But Matt is good.

Here’s a nice essay on the film version of Road to Perdition.

Here’s another.

This essay looks at the tropes that can be found – or in some cases were generated by – Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer. I am mentioned.

This years-late review of my Dick Tracy: The Secret Files anthology is well done, if a tad late in the game.

The article calls Road to Perdition one of the best crime comics of all time. You bet! But, uh…where’s Ms. Tree?

M.A.C.