Posts Tagged ‘John Sand’

Sand Sale, Perdition, Hammer Theme, Spillane, Crusin’

Tuesday, June 21st, 2022

There is another John Sand bargain this week – I believe it goes to the 15th of next month (July) – for the audio of To Live and Spy in Berlin. For only 99 cents! Brian J. Gill reads this (and the other two Sand novels) in a nice English accent that suits the material; really a great job.

To Live and Spy in Berlin Audiobook
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Several friends and fans wrote me about a Daily Atlantic newsletter essay that selected Road to Perdition as an ideal Father’s Day movie. I liked the piece, even though it neglected to mention me, and was touched that the photo running with the article was from the sequence directly based on my first driving lesson with my late father. No bank robberies were involved in real life, however. I also like John Rooney being based on John Looney got a mention.

Here it is:

‘He Was My Father’

Sometimes at the Daily we step back at the end of the week’s blizzard of news and current events and suggest something for your leisure time. It’s Father’s Day weekend, and so I want to recommend to you one of my favorite movies, a meditation on generations and fatherhood and loyalty and duty, a warm, nostalgic look at families during a simpler time, starring two of America’s most beloved actors.

I am talking, of course, about Road to Perdition.

If you have not seen it, Road to Perdition (based on the graphic novel of the same name, and widely available to stream) is a 2002 film about Irish gangsters in the 1930s. But it’s really about fathers and sons. A mob leg-breaker named Mike Sullivan, played by a bulked-up Tom Hanks, is fiercely loyal to his boss, John Rooney (played, in his last role, against type and with regal Hibernian menace by Paul Newman); indeed, Sullivan and Rooney have a father-son relationship.

But Rooney already has a son, played by Daniel Craig, and that son is a murderous psychopath. (People wonder why I had a hard time accepting Craig as James Bond. It’s because I saw Road to Perdition first.) Without giving away too much, Sullivan and his own young son, Michael, have to go on the lam. It’s a father-son road-trip movie, except with tommy guns and stone killers.

You may find this an unusual recommendation. Bear with me.

When Father’s Day rolls around, I naturally think of my own father. I have never been able to relate to all those Hallmark-card, Ward Cleaver images. My dad was a complicated man, which is what sons say when we mean “He was terribly flawed in a lot of ways, but he loved me.” He bore a lot of sins and had a lot of shortcomings, but he had a consistent code of ethics in dealing with others and he was known for it. He kept his word, paid his debts, and treated others with respect. He was the kind of man who would walk into a local bar and his peers would call him Nick but younger men would unfailingly refer to him as “Mr. Nichols.” Even our younger neighbors called him “Mr. Nichols,” with great affection. (When he died, I sold his house to one of the children who’d grown up next door to him.)

I think most of us had fathers who weren’t perfect. Mine wasn’t, and yet he taught me important things: Do an honest day’s work. Love your country. Do things you have to do even if they’re unpleasant. Never back down if you know you’re right. Be courteous in public.

He also taught me how to gamble and showed me how to spot someone dealing off the bottom of a deck of cards.

He wasn’t the blueprint for a good husband or father, and he knew it. When I was in my 30s, he admitted to my mother that he thought I’d grown up to be a better man than he was. This is a hard thing to learn about your father, a source of both pride and sadness. (I will have more to say about fathers, and the men I knew growing up, over on my Peacefield newsletter this weekend.)

Which brings me back to Road to Perdition. When Sullivan has to go on the run with Michael (played by a young Tyler Hoechlin), the son finally learns what the father he idolizes actually does for a living. He also learns that Rooney—based on the real-life Irish godfather John Patrick Looney—is not a kindly grandfather but a cold-blooded killer. These men (and this is very much a man’s movie) are scoundrels, but they have a code, and their obedience to that code leads them to tragic choices.

The last line of the movie (again, without spoiling anything) is what ties it all to my memories of my own boyhood. Young Michael reminisces, and says: “When people ask me if Michael Sullivan was a good man, or if there was just no good in him at all, I always give the same answer. I just tell them: He was my father.”

That is the most honest thing most of us can say about our fathers. We love them, and they love us, and that’s enough.

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My Brit pal Andrew Sumner, who edits my Mike Hammer novels at Titan (including the upcoming Kill Me If You Can), sent this great video.

He explains: “Due to my regular attendance at London’s finest jazz clubs, I’ve become friendly with a well-known UK swing/jazz R&B performer called Ray Gelato. Ray leads a band called Ray Gelato and the Giants and they essentially channel the energy of Louis Prima & Louis Jordan – they played Paul McCartney’s wedding, they’ve supported Queen, etc. They’re in a similar wheelhouse to Brian Setzer and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy.”

Andrew was nice enough to request that they play “Harlem Nocturne,” Mike Hammer’s theme in the Keach era, and dedicate it to me. Have a listen and look (or is that a butcher’s hook?).

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If you’re a huge Spillane fan or huge Collins fan or just huge masochist, you may wish to watch this entire ninety-minute interview of me (on the subject of Mickey) by Dan Scheider (he’s very’s good) featuring the great Kevin Burton Smith of Thrilling Detective fame and accomplishment.

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On another musical note (or two or three or four), my band Crusin’, 2018 inductees in the Iowa Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, will be playing four dates in Eastern Iowa this summer and early fall.

First up, on Friday June 24 from 6 to 9 p.m., is the Ardon Creek Vineyard in the gently rolling farmland of “76 Township” in Eastern Iowa, approximately 30 minutes southeast of Iowa City, Iowa, 15 minutes southwest of Muscatine, Iowa and 5 miles north of Letts. Here’s the address: 2391 Independence Avenue, Letts, IA 52754. Their phone is (563) 272-0028 and more info’s available here, including a map.

On Saturday July 2 we’ll be at Proof Social in Muscatine, from 5 to 8 pm. We’ll be on the patio unless there’s rain, in which case we’ll be inside. This is a lovely venue, and the patio overlooks the Mississippi.

On Sunday August 14 we’ll again be appearing as part of the Second Sunday Concert Series at Musser Public Library, 408 E. 2nd Street in Muscatine, IA. Sometimes it’s held indoors and other times, weather allowing, with an outdoor stage in the parking lot. Hours are 6 to 8 p.m.

Finally, we’ll be appearing at the Muscatine Art Center’s yearly Ice Cream Social, which runs from 1 till 4 p.m. (Our times are 1:15 to 2:10 and 3 to 3:45.) 1314 Mulberry Ave, Muscatine.

Yes, our “season” is short, which is on purpose. Again I wonder if this will be the last year for Crusin’ appearances. And my memory fills with my departed bandmates, including the most recent and cutting loss, bass player Brian Van Winkle. I hope he’s somewhere arguing with Paul Thomas, Chuck Bunn, Bruce Peters, and Terry Beckey who among them gets to play bass if that Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven gig comes through. But knowing Brian, he’d just smile and wait his turn.


Crusin’ at the Moose in January 2022
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Check out this wonderful Quarry’s Blood review at the web’s definitive genre book review site, Bookgasm.

Here’s a nice Goodreads review of the graphic novel, Road to Perdition.

And finally here is The Big Bundle at the Hard Case Crime web site.

M.A.C.

54 Years and Counting! (Really 56.)

Tuesday, June 7th, 2022

Barb and I took our first post-Covid lockdown overnight trip, celebrating our 54th wedding anniversary last week – specifically, on June 1st, the day of, and returning to Muscatine on June 2nd, the start of year 55.

It was a delightful trip, although two business situations back in the real world came up shortly after we arrived in Galena, Illinois (our favorite getaway spot) and reminded me how nice life was when you didn’t have a cell phone in your pocket.

Things settled down, though, and we shopped and lunched at Vinny Vanucci’s and had a lovely evening, dining at Fritz and Frites and then sharing a quiet, typically Collins evening in our suite at the Irish Cottage – see the photos as evidence.

M.A.C. and Barb at Fritz and Frites
Champagne and The Brain Eaters

You will note that I look almost giddy sharing a table with a beautiful blonde, undeterred by having spent 56 years of my life with her (we started going together in 1966). There are numerous reasons not to like me, even to hate me, but none better than my managing to hornswoggle (one of my late father’s favorite words) her into spending most of her life with me.

Obviously Barb is a beauty. But she is also funny and smart and ridiculously thoughtful. She loves the Three Stooges. She loves the Beatles. She loves the original Star Trek. She loves James Bond. She loves her grandchildren. And she even loves me.

The question we get most often is how we write together and remain married. I’ve seen other writing couples really struggle with that. My answer sounds flip but it’s true: our offices are on separate floors.

Another major factor is that we develop the idea for a story or novel together, often over lunch or on a car ride, and then she works alone on her draft, checking in with me only if she hits a rough patch and wants an opinion (rare). She does not love to write. I try to tell her that no writers really love to write, though many of us are compelled to do so, and all of us love to have written. But she entered the field basically to help me out, editing, and writing the “Mike Mist” feature for Ms. Tree after I burned out on minute mysteries.

So when she finishes a draft of a novel, she claims (believably) to be sick of it. She doesn’t care what I do with it. This is basically true, but if my draft wanders too far afield from what she had in mind, she’s very tough-minded about getting me back on track.

We just finished our short novel, Cutout, for Neo-Text. I say “finished,” but we haven’t heard back from the editor, so you never know when rewrites are requested. But it feels good and was very much an idea that came from Barb and a story that she generated. The Antiques novels are fairly loose and it’s not unusual for long stretches to be my work; but in Cutout, her writing was so tight that working on it, trying to improve on it, was like repairing an expensive watch.

So feel free to hate me for being so lucky in having this life partner. I don’t deserve her. But at least I know it.

Frankie Valli Concert 2022

We wrapped up our anniversary celebration with a concert – Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Really, it was Frankie Valli and four back-up singers/dancers, but I’m not complaining…it was a great show. Held at the cavernous and unfortunately named TaxSlayer Center in Moline, the concert featured an amazingly spry eighty-eight year-old Valli hitting all the high notes and giving a long, opening-act-free presentation of most of his many hits, without and without the Seasons. A multi-media affair, with a fantastic rocking band, it had a Vegas feel that made other oldies shows I’ve seen look and feel like the cobbled-together affairs they often are.

The event had been postponed twice, and we almost skipped it, having already had a fun but exhausting Galena trip. But we were very, very glad we saw this pop music legend in performance.

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Star Trek: Strange New Worlds poster

Among the list of things Barb loves I listed Star Trek. We loved all the movies, including the one Shatner directed, and the recent J.J. Abrams reboot features, which not everyone does. We are okay with Next Generation, but every other ST series has left us cold – we haven’t ever boarded those vessels, not long-term.

I was once approached to do a Star Trek novel and was thrilled. It was to be about the newest, about-to-debut series, Enterprise, which I was told was a throwback to the original series. I watched the premiere, all revved up – it starred Scott Bakula, from Quantum Leap! But then it turned out to, well, uh…suck. At least in my opinion. And Barb’s.

I tried to get the book gig anyway, but both my tries were rejected because they resembled this episode of that Trek spin-off or that episode of this one.

Now comes Star Trek – Strange New Worlds, and we are both fans. It’s basically the series that Gene Roddenberry first intended to do, as indicated by the pilot (“The Menagerie”) with Jeffrey Hunter as Captain Christopher Pike, Majel Barrett as Number One, and Leonard Nimoy as Spock.

Strange New Worlds (streaming on Paramount Plus) is a smart, respectful prequel with a great cast. Anson Mount as Pike seems to combine the best of Kirk and Picard, Rebecca Romijn as Number One is a particularly strong presence, and Ethan Peck as Spock channels Nimoy to an eerie degree, particularly the sound and cadence of the original Spock’s voice.

The art design and special effects are stellar (sue me) and the stories so far mostly take place on the stunning Enterprise itself. The major difference is that none of the episodes to date are anything William Shatner would have put up with. Look, I love Shatner. (So does Barb.) He’s a force of nature and his Kirk is definitive. But he would never, never have allowed his episodes to focus so much on its ensemble cast. To Anson Mount’s credit, he holds the show together without flexing his ego.

This is the best Star Trek since…Star Trek.

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Thanks to all of you who took advantage of the week-long 99-cent sale for the Kindle edition of No Time To Spy, which collects the three John Sand novels by Matt Clemens and me.

We did not hit number one on any of the Amazon bestseller lists (The Shrinking Island recently did) but we got into the upper reaches.

For those of you who (like me) prefer physical media, the “real” book of No Time to Spy is a fat thing of beauty.

You can get it here for $15.99.

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Finally, here’s another of those “movies you didn’t know were based on comics” pieces, but not a bad one (on Road to Perdition of course).

M.A.C.

No Time to Spy 99, OSS 117, and Stranger Things 4

Tuesday, May 31st, 2022
No Time to Spy
E-Book: Amazon
Paperback: Amazon

No Time to Spy – the collection of the three John Sand novels by Matt Clemens and me – is going on sale for an astonishing 99-cents (for the e-book) at Amazon starting today (May 31 at 12 a.m.) and ending June 6 (at 11 p.m.). Those are Pacific times.

For those of you who haven’t tried these books, this is an excellent low-cost opportunity. The response has generally been very good to the Sand novels, but a couple of supposed “big fans” of mine have attacked them for various reasons that seem specious to me. For one thing, they apparently don’t understand that the John Le Carre school of spy fiction (which I admire) is different from the Ian Fleming school (which I adore).

The premise of the trilogy, as you may know from previous updates here, is that John Sand is the real-life spy that James Bond was based on, and that Ian Fleming was a colleague who used Sand’s experiences as a basis for his fiction. The publicity that Sand receives as the basis of Bond forces him out of the spy game; also, he marries a very wealthy young woman – a Texas oil heiress – in an echo of what occurs in both the book and film of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, minus the tragedy.

Matt and I never mention Bond and Fleming by name, but it’s obviously an open secret. The books are larger than life, in the fashion of the Bond novels and films, but are at the same time quite tough and the frequent action can be violent, even shocking. The sexual content is largely limited to the married couple’s couplings.

The novels are, in order: Come Spy With Me; Live Fast, Spy Hard; and To Live and Spy in Berlin.

Matt and I had hoped to do at least one more Sand novel, but despite general positive reader response, sales have not encouraged us to do so. If this 99-cent sale pushes us onto Amazon bestseller lists, even briefly, that could change.

The ignorance of the handful of readers who have denigrated the books for being spoofs are the kind who can’t see the difference between Harry Palmer and Austin Powers.

OSS 117: From Africa With Love

This is not to say I don’t like a good Bond spoof, and a third in the film series of what is (in my opinion) the greatest satiric response to Bond is now available – OSS 117:
From Africa With Love
, again starring Jean Dujardin (of The Artist fame) as secret agent Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath. The third film does not seem to be on any of the streaming services, but can be purchased on Blu-ray and DVD at Amazon.

The first two films, OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies (2006) and OSS 117: Lost in Rio (2009), are also available from Amazon in French with English subtitles on both Blu-ray and DVD. E-bay has both of these from various sources. E-bay also has From Africa With Love, but I ordered editions listed as having English subtitles and it wasn’t till my third try that I landed on a version that had that essential option. I would stick with ordering from Amazon.

What’s great about these films – they are strictly parodies of the Connery era, the star physically resembling the “real” James Bond – is that they work as Fleming-style spy stories with the hilarious inclusion of a Bond clone who is bone-headedly politically incorrect and in some ways a dope…and yet he’s a credible action hero. None of the other parodies of Bond accomplish that.

This new film finds OSS 117 actually growing and changing by the final scene…perhaps not dramatically, as it would appear his growth is largely limited to not patting the asses of the pretty females at the spy office as a greeting.

And you will adore the opening credits with the fake Bond theme song and faux Maurice Binder visuals.

I love these movies and wish they were more readily available. But if you’re a Bond fan, you need to see them. Also worthwhile is the boxed set of the original French OSS 117 films, which are among the better Bond imitations of the ‘60s.

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Stranger Things Season 4 poster

I wrote at some length last week about the assorted streaming mini-series we have been watching. We picked up on season four of Stranger Things, which Netflix has just “dropped” as they say (an expression I could do without). I will tell you right now that Barb bailed before the end of the first episode, and I don’t blame her.

Having really liked the preceding seasons, I hung in there and watched the first two episodes – which were long, around an hour and twenty minutes each, far too long for a premise as wispy as that of Stranger Things. I have continued on and will stick it out to the end.

But the opening two episodes are a tough go. They present a version of high school that is simplistic and ridiculous – for example, El (who has lost her powers and apparently also her spine) is picked on by…everybody, at a school filled only with bullies. Several new annoying characters are introduced right when we’re trying to remember who the recurring characters are, some of whom are hard to recognize at first. After all, it’s been three years, real time, since the previous season. The kid actors all look much too old for the six months, story time, that have elapsed. Those annoying new characters include a rebel who looks to be about 35 and a pizza delivery hippie whose sub-Cheech-and-Chong comedy relief is painful to endure.

When the high school stuff fades and the sci-fi/horror stuff kicks in, Stranger Things gets back on recognizable track, uneven but rewarding. The biggest problem is the shifting tone, with the Winona Ryder storyline comic (despite tragic circumstances) and her sidekick conspiracy theorist, bearded Brett Gelman, often uncomfortably hammy.

The first two very long episodes are written and directed by the creators, the Duffer Brothers. Surprisingly, it’s the subsequent episodes by other hands that are what bring the season around. The creators seem to let their actors go over the top, unbridled, with Gelman (much better in non-Duffer-directed episodes) and newcomer Joseph Munson (the rebel Eddie Munson…get it, Munster?) their chief victims. These first two episodes are weak on Direction 101 items like matching action and, well, pacing.

The pop culture references get laid on a little thick, too. We have Robert Englund repeatedly scratching his insane asylum-cell table with his fingernails (Freddie Krueger, get it?) and the kids entering a haunted house right out of (the much better) It. Krueger is playing Victor Kreel (Victor Crawley horror franchise, check) as he subs for Hannibal Lecter offering convicted-serial-killer advice from his cell.

Why watch?

Well, once you get past the first two ill-judged episodes, the Eleven story kicks in, in a satisfying way. Most of the young actors are terrific, especially Sadie Sink (and her character is into Kate Bush, which reveals good taste on somebody’s part, probably the Duffers, giving credit where it’s due). Really, all of the recurring characters are fine, with Millie Bobby Brown a standout, once she ditches the suddenly-El-is-a-five-year-old bit. Of the original group Gaten Matarazzo remains winning – the heart of the ensemble.

It’s not the Duffer Brothers’ fault that Covid happened and three years passed, damaging the believability of cast members as kids younger than they’re playing. That a number of new actors were cast as teenagers and look at least thirty is the creators’ fault.

What I think happened is this: the brothers were in the right place with the right idea at the right time to be one of the first binge-worthy shows, really jump-starting Netflix. But in the meantime some other gifted creators have taken advantage of the limited-season, limited-series approach, and upped the ante. This season of Stranger Things does not compare to Gaslit, The Offer, The Staircase, or Better Call Saul.

Not even close.

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Road to Perdition is on this list of the best noirs to date of the 21st Century.

M.A.C.

The Amazing Colossal Gilbert

Tuesday, April 19th, 2022

Last week my son called me with the bad news – Gilbert Gottfried had passed at 67, an age that seems terribly young to me now. Nate was apologetic about having to share word of another death with me, but at my age that comes (as the Music Man said) with the territory.

Frank Santopadre and Gilbert Gottfried
Frank Santopadre and Gilbert Gottfried

I hope Gilbert’s podcast partner, Frank Santopadre, will be able to continue their Amazing Colossal Podcast, which has been a glorious celebration and look back at all kinds of popular culture of the 20th Century, particularly film, but also TV and radio and even vaudeville. Gilbert was a master at impressions of obscure character actors, and a font of knowledge about show biz trivia (as is Frank).

When I did the show a few months ago, I was knocked out by Frank’s research, and his glee at being able to ask me, for example, why I liked the Ritz Brothers. Later, on the podcast, I explained myself – something I never expected to do in public, let alone in front of the smart, knowledgeable audience that had the sense to listen to this one-of-a-kind show.

The podcast, of course, is just one (if significant) part of Gilbert Gottfried’s contribution to popular culture. He laughed (and boy did he have a laugh) about me being a fan of his Saturday Night Live year (actually, twelve weeks); but I truly had been a fan (I liked Gail Matthius, too, and that Eddie Murphy kid showed promise). I have sympathy for that whole cast, who’d had the not enviable task of following in the original Not Ready for Primetime Players – after all, I followed Frank Miller into Batman, making me the Charles Rocket of Caped Crusader writers.

Gilbert’s character parts in various films were always funny stand-outs, from the Problem Child movies to Beverly Hills Cop II. Kids got to know that voice by the Aladdin movies and TV shows. But Gilbert’s bold adult delivery of the Aristocrats joke at the Friars’ Club roast of Hugh Hefner, less than three weeks after the 9/11 2001 terrorist attacks, was a shot across the bow at a humorless media. Perhaps the first victim of Cancel Culture – he lost his famous, lucrative Afflac duck gig after tweeting jokes about the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami – Gilbert’s public exposure of the can-you-top-this backstage filthy private joke shared by comics became the subject of The Aristrocrats, an excellent 2005 documentary film by Paul Provenza and Penn Jillette.

If you’ve never seen it, track down Gilbert, the 2017 documentary that charts the life and some typical days and nights of a truly sweet, unique eccentric. More than any comedian in history, Gilbert Gottfried could make the punchline of a joke irrelevant – it was always about his delivery, the set-up, the commentary along the way. The journey, not the destination.

For those who are not faint of heart, I recommend Gilbert’s stand-up DVD, Dirty Jokes (2005); it’s also on Amazon Prime.

On the podcast, Gilbert always introduced his guests with long, elaborate, well-researched (thanks, Frank!) bios. I was stunned hearing Gilbert’s (shall we say) distinctive voice going on for several minutes detailing my accomplishments as well as a few embarrassing details.

Perhaps some of you will understand what a treat and frankly honor it was for me to be guesting with my co-author, Dave Thomas, on Gilbert’s show. It’s still unbelievable that as a stone SCTV freak I am now friends with Dave Thomas. And to have shared space with two of my comic heroes for a couple of hours – I will treasure the memory.

Dave said to me, recently, “You really love comedy, don’t you?”

Yes. Yes I do. But some of it died with Gilbert Gottfried, and we really could have used him sticking around in this horrific, humorless era, when people would rather take self-righteous offense than just fucking laugh.

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Here, for your enjoyment, is the Amazon France translation to English of their description of my novel A Life in Red (aka Bait Money):

Among the thugs, quarantine is already the third age. It is still a matter of clinging to it. Nolan, an unlucky thug, tries to find a place in the sun. A nice combination, yes! With accomplices two inexperienced kids and a girl who has the fire in the buttocks and nothing in the cigar. And all for an old debt to the Mafia. What would it be like if he had to pay her to society!

I would love to read this novel!

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Are you going to Bouchercon in Minneapolis this year? September 8-11, 2022? If so, and you’re registered, you’ve received an Anthony Awards ballot. The deadline for nominations is May 1st.

Here is a list of my books (some with Barb, one with Matt) that are eligible. If you haven’t voted yet, and liked any of these books, your vote would be appreciated. Here are the books (or in one a case a short story) that are eligible. You can vote for up to five in each category.

BEST HARDBACK NOVEL:

Antiques Carry On, Barbara Allan

BEST PAPERBACK ORIGINAL:

Skim Deep, Max Allan Collins

The Many Lives of Jimmy Leighton, Dave Thomas & M.A.C.

Fancy Anders Goes to War, M.A.C.

To Live and Spy in Berlin, M.A.C. & Matthew V. Clemens

BEST SHORT STORY:

“What’s Wrong with Harley Quinn,” Barbara Allan in EQMM July/August 2021

BEST ANTHOLOGY:

Suspense – His and Hers, M.A.C. & Barbara Collins

Reincarnal & Other Dark Tales, M.A.C.

Turning the Tied, Jonathan Maberry (editor) – includes a story by M.A.C. and Matthew V. Clemens

This voting is only open to registrants of Bouchercon.

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To Live and Spy in Berlin Audiobook
Paperback: Indiebound Bookshop.org Amazon Books-A-Million (BAM) Barnes & Noble (B&N) Powell's
E-Book: Amazon
Digital Audiobook: Amazon

Speaking of To Live and Spy in Berlin, the audiobook is out now – which puts the entire trilogy on audio. A great Brit-inflected job by Brian J. Gill!

Check out an excerpt here:

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The Menace by Mickey Spillane and me comes out next week. Read about it here.

M.A.C.