Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind

My newest - and final - column for The Barnes & Noble Review focuses on Yunte Huang's new book about the famed fictional Chinese detective, one whose influence has ranged wide and provoked all manner of controversy and uncomfortable discussion about race in the United States. Here's how my piece opens:

Despite the many strides the past few decades have made toward eliminating ethnic injustice, race is an issue that isn't going away just yet  -- and is, instead, heating up. A black president in conjunction with a crippled economy and a 24/7 news cycle means innocuous comments are blown out of proportion, latent ugly feelings become blatantly manifest in comments sections and public demonstrations alike, and complex examinations are passé  in the face of cartoon-style rhetoric. There are many days when it feels like America hasn't learned from past mistakes, or can't admit it's making them again and again.

Into this volatile mix comes Yunte Huang, an English Professor at UC Santa Barbara. He has spent the past two decades researching one of the most popular and troubling characters in American culture, a star of books and movies and a reminder of some of the country's worst anti-immigration sentiments and practices. Can this character be as Huang writes in Charlie Chan: The Untold Story of the Honorable Detective and his Rendezvous with American History, "a funny, beloved, albeit somewhat inscrutable...character who talks wisely and acts even more wisely" while also "a pernicious example of a racist stereotype"? Can he truly carry "both the stigma of racial parody and the stimulus of creative imitation?"

The answer, of course, is yes, because the character in question is Charlie Chan, born of a primordial stew of culture and politics that includes a legendary Chinese-Hawaiian police detective, a Harvard-educated novelist, a journeyman Swedish actor, argumentative critics and millions of Americans looking for fleeting entertainment. Naturally this is a tricky maze of contexts to navigate, but in choosing to assemble a psycho-biography of Charlie Chan, Huang had to merge these disparate strands into a cohesive narrative whole. The end result is not merely successful, but a revelation: you're never going to think the same way again about the wise detective's broken English aphorisms like "An idle brain is the devil's workshop" or  "Biggest mistakes in history made by people who didn't think."

Read on for the rest, and for a much fuller and comprehensive treatment, see Jill Lepore's excellent essay on Huang's book and the cultural significance of Charlie Chan in the New Yorker. 

My review of Martin Cruz Smith's newest novel featuring his iconic Russian detective, Arkady Renko, appeared in yesterday's Los Angeles Times (but was only put online this afternoon.) Here's how the piece opens:

Russia may be nearly 20 years removed from the end of Soviet Communist rule, but the latest events in that country truly bring home the phrase "the more things change, the more they stay the same." Spies are still trying to infiltrate American soil, albeit with the help of social media and encrypted Wi-Fi connections. The Kremlin still all but controls the flow of media, and don't use the words "election" and "democracy" or you'll be laughed out of Moscow. There's more money for the rich to throw around, and the underworld swells larger with more small- and big-time criminals on the make.

In other words, contemporary Russia is still a prime setting for crime fiction, rife with narrative avenues for a detective to wander down at his or her peril. For Martin Cruz Smith in particular, Russia has proved to be a rich mine for more than three decades, never ceasing to provide tales of corruption, abuse and world-weary observation for his iconic protagonist, Arkady Renko, to investigate.

Read on for the rest, and for comparison purposes, see Olen Steinhauer's rave review of the book that graced last weekend's cover of the NYTBR.

So the busy summer (and year) continues but a couple of new and upcoming publications featuring work of mine that I should draw your attention to. First up is FOLLOWING THE DETECTIVES: REAL LOCATIONS IN CRIME FICTION, a collection of essays and illustrated maps about some of your favorite crime writers and their chosen settings edited by the indefatigable Maxim Jakubowski. New Holland Publishers will release this at the end of September, and the contributor list is pretty noteworthy: Barry Forshaw, Peter Rozovsky, J. Kingston Pierce, Oline Cogdill are among them. I've contributed two pieces: New York as filtered through the work of Lawrence Block, and George Pelecanos's Washington, DC. I haven't seen an advance copy yet, but I know they are in the wild, and supposed to be real objets d'art.

Just published is issue 2 of Needle: A Magazine of Noir, the brainchild of Steve Weddle and John Hornor, and along with pieces by Chris Holm, Ray Banks, Stephen Blackmoore and Frank Bill, it includes my first new short story in a long time. "Mirror Image" had a fairly long road to publication. I wrote the initial draft in the fall of 2005, pretty much in one burst as I was able to write first drafts of short fiction back then (now, not so much...) At the time it was a literary story about a young woman's rather dark exploration of body dysmorphia - a topic I, and I think a great many women, understand all too well - and I sent it to a few such publications, many of whom liked the style but felt something was missing. I let the story gestate and then it became obvious to me what was missing: it needed to be more definitively a crime story, and some restructuring and tweaking made it so.

But the end result still felt like it was burning a hole in my hard drive it wasn't a good fit for the mystery mags, and while the late, lamented MURDALAND gave me some good feedback, it wasn't the right fit for them. I'd revisit the story every few months, still think it had some merit, but what to do? And time marched on and priorities shifted.

Then came Needle, and its first issue, which impressed me greatly. Weddle and Hornor had kindly sent me a complimentary copy earlier this year. Nnot only did the magazine look and feel good, the stories were very high calibre all-round. I wanted to be part of that, and casually mentioned I had a story if they were interested in taking a look. They said sure, send it along. And now "Mirror Image", what I think of as a tale of body dysmorphia noir, is between two covers and available for public consumption. So thanks to Steve and John for giving it a home, and I'll be curious what you all think when you buy a copy of the new issue.

I read many books annually, so that means I don't reread all that much. But for Don Winslow's SAVAGES, I couldn't help but make an exception. The book was, at least for me, the literary equivalent of narcotic stimulants* which I wanted to indulge in several times over. So I know I spent much of the year to date urging people to read it, feeling pleased when others loved the book and engaging in debate with those who weren't so wowed.

How, then, to elucidate what's essentially a visceral HFS** reaction in 800 words? The answer, or at least an attempt at an answer, ran over the weekend in the print edition of the Los Angeles Times. Here's how the piece opens:

I'm of two minds about whether "Savages," Don Winslow's marvelous, adrenaline-juiced roller coaster of a novel, is a rookie reader's best introduction to his work. There's a delicious sense of satisfaction in seeing how Winslow has chiseled his increasingly lean prose to diamond-like precision over the course of 12 novels and fused the themes of "The Power of the Dog" (2005), his epic account of the country's never-ending war on drugs, with the razzmatazz syntax of his surf-detective novel "The Dawn Patrol" (2008) to produce something heady and new. "Savages" is both a departure and a culmination, pyrotechnic braggadocio and deep meditation on contemporary American culture.

All those reasons, however, justify foisting "Savages" into the hands of Winslow unfamiliars. The rationale — mine, anyway — is that if newcomers are sucked in by the fierce narrative velocity and perpetual peppering of aphorism upon biting aphorism, each will realize what Winslow fans have long known and will reach for the writer's back catalog.

*which, by the way, I don't indulge in, unless coffee counts as a narcotic.

**I think you can guess the particular profanity-laced acronym in question.

So Richard Price will be writing a series of detective novels for Henry Holt under a pen name - Jay Morris - starting in fall 2011. It's the same publisher that John Banville has for his Benjamin Black novels, and Josh Gaylord for his zombie novel AND THE REAPERS ARE THE ANGELS (as Alden Bell) which kind of makes you wonder if this publishing house is where literary writers go to exercise their genre chops. But with respect to Price, this feels like the right move for him career-wise - and one that I suspect has a lot of folks asking "so what took so long?"

Idle speculation might produce this answer: there have been a lot of changes in Price's life since LUSH LIFE was published to near-universal acclaim in March 2008. He divorced his wife and is now living with the writer Lorraine Adams, who also writes literary fiction with crime elements. He left Gramercy Park and moved to Harlem. Screenplays he was contracted to write, such as an adaptation of Tom Rob Smith's novel CHILD 44, haven't panned out, at least publicly. And at almost 61, a certain cost-benefit analysis might kick in about whether it's economically worth it to spend 4-5 years researching and writing a big literary book with crime elements while writing screenplays that never get made (or aren't offered at all, which means they don't end up paying the bills) or to produce a series of crime novels at a one-a-year pace, which it appears Price is on track to do.

In other words, this strikes me as a classic "fuck it" move, in the way that Banville had already decided upon the Benjamin Black trajectory before winning the Booker for The Sea. That he got to taste the fruits of literary success and have an obvious blast writing crime fiction in the vein of his two main influences, Richard Stark aka Donald Westlake and Georges Simenon, meant man planned and both he and God laughed.

Anyway, to say my hopes are high for these books is an understatement, but mostly I wish for two things: that Price keeps his prose loose and stays relaxed (my chief complaint about LUSH LIFE was that it felt too worked over, and didn't have enough room to breathe) and that he can deliver manuscripts on time. I base this on what he told me when I interviewed him around the time LUSH LIFE came out, and brought up that he tended to get behind on work, even screenplays:

Nobody ever hands in anything on time, and when they do, it's probably because it's superficial and they didn't do a good job. It's like construction work; a guy looks at your kitchen, says the job will take two weeks. Three months later he says "Ah, the stuff from Italy didn't come, sorry about that." From the outside, anticipating how it's supposed to go is nice, but there's that saying, if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

Now we know Price's pseudonymous plans, but something tells me this time, he won't be deterred from them.

UPDATE: Here's the deal memo from Publishers Marketplace:

Author of Clockers and Freedomland, Richard Price's crime novel under the "transparent pseudonym" Jay Morris, the first in a series about a 40-year-old New York City police detective whose career was nearly derailed by two controversial shootings when he was a member of an anything-goes anti-crime unit in Harlem, now a night-watch sergeant on a case involving the fatal knifing of a young drunk in the bathroom of a Third Avenue pub, to editor at large John Sterling, who edited two other Price novels, fo Holt, for publication in fall 2011, by Lynn Nesbit at Janklow & Nesbit (NA).

Several interesting things about this: first, Price is back with John Sterling, who edited the two other books mentioned in the deal memo, CLOCKERS & FREEDOMLAND (LUSH LIFE was with FSG and edited by Lorin Stein, who has since moved on to take over The Paris Review; SAMARITAN was published by Knopf and edited by Robin Desser, who coincidentally happens to be Lorraine Adams' editor as well); the other is that the Harlem setting makes me think this is a reworking of the big Harlem novel Price mentioned he was working on in interviews last year, restructured so that it would take as much time and produce more steady work and income.

My newest column for the Los Angeles Times looks specifically at Justin Peacock's new novel BLIND MAN'S ALLEY and at the seeming dearth of crime fiction centered around real estate. Here's how the piece opens:

Though I write for this West Coast newspaper, I live in New York City. That means, like a lot of dwellers of the five boroughs, I spend a disproportionate amount of time thinking about real estate, whether griping about too-high rents for tiny apartments or the erection of another steel-heavy skyscraper in my neighborhood. Walking underneath scaffolding, zigzagging through hastily constructed passageways and watching the work of those awe-inspiring cranes brings to mind other salient points about the making of buildings: construction delays, unfortunate accidents and financial mismanagement. And all of those ingredients seem a natural for mysteries and thrillers.

Indeed, the inner workings of real estate deals provide juicy plot points for many a crime novel, but somehow writers seem to shy away from making this business their primary focus — or readers don't gravitate toward this particular professional subject...[b]u another entry into the miniscule "real estate noir" category, however, might stand the best chance of opening up this wonderfully byzantine world to a larger audience, largely because the author frames this world in the context of other career paths well-familiar to the crime fiction reader: lawyers, journalists, and cops."

Read on for the rest, and what other books should I have mentioned that deal with this very New York-centric topic?

With the hype and phenomenal success of the Millenium Trilogy by Stieg Larsson, a lot of news outlets have been asking the natural but obvious question: who's the next big breakout star? Is he or she Scandinavian? Or from some other country? Or not writing thrillers? But too many of these pieces seem to think the Scandinavian crime wave began in the past decade or so and don't reference Maj Sjowall and Per Wahloo, whose 10-book "Story of Crime" novels featuring the ordinary, dour but always fascinating detective Martin Beck not only paved the way for Scandinavian crime writers, but for the genre as a whole.

I've wanted to write about Sjowall & Wahloo for many months, ever since Vintage started reissuing the books with striking new covers (cribbed from the UK editions, published by HarperCollins) and introductions from notable types like Henning Mankell, Val McDermid and Michael Connelly explaining how each book and the whole arc merits close reading. Then I found out for myself starting with ROSEANNA, working my way through the tenth and final book THE TERRORISTS, which is reissued today. And that book, in particular, seems a natural segue to Larsson's books - it's the most overtly political, the most pointed, the most rooted in frustration at the system and outrage over how women are abused and tossed aside by system, and by men.

There's much more detail in my essay, which runs today at The Daily Beast, but the quote that really hit home how Sjowall & Wahloo influenced Larsson comes near the end of the series, when Beck is told this: "Violence has rushed like an avalanche throughout the whole of the Western world over the last 10 years. You can't stop or steer that avalanche on your own. It just increases. That's not your fault."

(For further reading, see the Guardian's profile of Maj Sjowall, still alive at age 75, and Tom Nolan's 2009 Sjowall/Wahloo essay in the WSJ.)

At the Barnes & Noble Review, I delve into crime and mystery fiction for young adult readers, discovering that there are some real gems in the mix but even so, there could be so many more. I certainly hope so. In any case, here's how the piece opens:

One of the things that has puzzled me the most in my years of serious mystery reading is why there are relatively few standout books geared specifically for middle grade and young adult readers. Consider that more than 1500 genre novels are published each year for grownups, and that many of those avid readers cut their teeth reading Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, Encyclopedia Brown and Agatha Christie (who wasn't writing for children, but whose prose style and subject matter often appeals to that group.) As they grew older, these readers gravitated towards the creepily suspenseful work by Lois Duncan, Ellen Raskin (her 1978 novel The Westing Game is an indescribable pleasure) and Caroline B. Cooney, who is still producing strong novels like 2009's If The Witness Lied.

Even big-name writers have moved into young adult territory, with mixed success: John Grisham's Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer is more entertaining than it has a right to be (even if Theo seems to share more personality attributes with an older generation) while Carl Hiaasen's eco-themed Hoot nicely captured a middle-school protagonist.  But what teen novels are out there that best reflect pre-teen and adolescent culture as it stands today?

It turns out, after some deep digging and recommendations from trusted sources, there are a number of wonderful recently published books that deserve a wider readership. But before I turn my attention to those, I should mention my favorite young adult mystery writer, Nancy Werlin. Her books offer strong plotting, multi-faceted characters and a keen eye for social issues that speak directly to her readers. At her best, as with the National Book Award nominee for The Rules of Survival and Edgar-Award winner The Killer's Cousin, she's among the best writers of the crime genre, period....

Read on for the rest, and to see which books I think live up to billing.

My newest column for the Los Angeles Times takes a close look at HAILEY'S WAR by Jodi Compton, her first book in several years. Only a small number of people read her earlier books, but I was one them and thought she had great talent. As such I'm very glad to see her back publishing books again, and this new book more than lives up to earlier promise. Here's how the piece opens:

The comeback: Publishing as a whole is affected by this particular scourge, but genre fiction in particular suffers from this plight in the most obvious way. It's when a writer appears, sometimes with considerable fanfare, with a new series, garnering an audience with each successive volume. The problem is, if the audience isn't big enough, or the money paid out to said writer doesn't produce expected sales, the publisher may cancel the series after just two or three books (or, in truly worst-case scenarios, after just one). Another company may pick up the slack for a variable advance, or the writer strikes out with new territory, often under a pen name. Or in many instances, the writer simply disappears, his or her career over.

Lately, a handful of writers have sidestepped the "whatever happened to…?" parlor game by publishing new books years after they were last heard from, book-wise....

Jodi Compton, however, may be the most stubborn of the "lost and found writers." She has a new publisher, and a new series but has kept her real name and the same authorial voice, more or less. Her first series, cut short after two books, featured Minnesota police detective Sarah Pribek, whose ability to keep up with her male peers, inscrutable personality and complicated relationship with her husband (and fellow cop) Michael made her seem prickly, but all the more winning. If Compton's plotting in "The 37th Hour" (2005) and "Sympathy Between Humans" (2006) faltered in places, her treatments of setting and characterization more than compensated.

But inscrutable heroines are more in vogue, thanks to a wonderful little fictional phenom named Lisbeth Salander. Something tells me that if Hailey Cain, the 23-year-old protagonist of Compton's new novel "Hailey's War" (Shaye Areheart: 286 pp., $22.99) and Salander ever met, they'd circle around, size each other up and accept some grudging mutual respect that might, with a lot of time, develop into mutual loyalty. Woe to those who think Hailey is some knockoff; as Compton makes clear very early on, she is a creature very much of her own making, singing a metaphorical tune few, if any, can hear...

Read on for the rest.

Still sporadic, expect to be so for the foreseeable future. But links, they do pile up...

At DailyFinance this weekend, I wrote about Rick Riordan and his extremely successful Percy Jackson novels for children, and what it might take to transform him from the publishing phenomenon he is now to a wider, more cultural phenomenon.

Otto Penzler owns 58,000 first editions, splendidly on display in his Connecticut home, but he emphasizes to the NYT that he's "not a rich guy." Okay, I'm surprised that was part of the story's headline, because the whole point of the Edgar-award winning THE LINEUP was to raise extra capital to keep the Mysterious Bookshop afloat, and I was glad to see the recent British thrillers auction at Swann brought in some good money, especially for the Ian Fleming first editions.

Peter Temple was a surprise winner of the Miles Franklin Prize for his newest crime novel TRUTH, which has the Guardian wondering if a crime novel can win the Booker. Sure, if one is submitted, but with publishers restricted to only two titles per year, the likelihood is pretty slim - and is also why CHILD 44, when it was longlisted a couple of years ago, raised proverbial eyebrows.

On the review front: Oline Cogdill enjoys Craig Johnson's new mystery, while Margaret Cannon has her Globe & Mail roundup, Adam Woog did his for the Seattle Times earlier in the month, as did the Times' Marcel Berlins, while Randy Michael Signor does the same this weekend for the Chicago Sun-Times, as does Jake Kerridge for the Telegraph and John O'Connell for the Guardian. Maureen Corrigan picked thrilling summer reads for NPR, and Patrick Anderson is crazy for Alan Furst. 

That said, I can absolutely see Adam Ross's crime-ish debut MR. PEANUT racking up or being nominated for a slew of awards. He talked with the Nashville Scene and the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review about the making of this inventive, Escher-like book.

Nick Bantock, whose GRIFFIN AND SABINE novels were all over the bestseller lists in the early 1990s, is exhibiting his body of work in the Denver area.

Let the David Mitchell media circus begin in earnest in the United States! His wonderful new novel THE THOUSAND AUTUMNS OF JACOB DE ZOET is out on Tuesday, and the NYT Magazine features a lengthy piece on Mitchell and his life & work by Wyatt Mason.

In 2007, literary agent Harriet Wasserman closed up her shop and disappeared. As the Daily Beast reports, it has a lot to do with stealing royalty money from some awfully prestigious clients.

John Updike's literary archive is full of treasure troves, as Sam Tanenhaus discovers and reports back on.

Someone had to write a hit piece on TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, so why not Allen Barra? Meanwhile, a Daily Mail reporter meets the 84-year-old Harper Lee, on the condition that there is to be no talk of the book - ever.

And finally, the new mayor of Reykjavik is kind of awesome.

So the crime fiction imprint that Little, Brown publisher Michael Pietsch first talked about at Bouchercon last fall, and for which he hired John Schoenfelder from Thomas Dunne/SMP to oversee, finally has a name: Mulholland Books. Here's the bulk of the press release that just went out:

The name is taken from Mulholland Drive, a winding stretch of road in the Hollywood Hills. Its hairpin turns, sharp cliff faces, and breathtaking views of Los Angeles have long made it synonymous with drama and suspense. The mysteries of Mulholland have inspired countless novels and films, from the classic mysteries of Raymond Chandler and James M. Cain to the voices of James Ellroy, Michael Connelly, Michael Mann, and David Lynch.

Little, Brown Publisher Michael Pietsch said, “There is an extraordinary body of suspense fiction being written today— novels and stories whose goal is to entertain and surprise at all costs, from the first sentence. Everyone at Little, Brown is excited to be taking part in the launch of Mulholland Books, an imprint whose goal is to single out these writers and publish them with an eye to community building and fresh marketing that has only become possible today.”

Mulholland Books launches in Spring 2011 with novels by the famed L.A. prosecutor Marcia Clark and mystery grandmaster Lawrence Block, new novels by UK prizewinners Mark Billingham and Michael Robotham, a trilogy of novels by Marvel Comics writer Duane Swierczynski to be published over five months, a border thriller by L.A. Times veteran Sebastian Rotella, and a trade paperback gathering of Daniel Woodrell’s legendary Bayou Trilogy of novels set in St. Bruno Parish, Louisiana. Future lists will include novels by rising stars Charlie Huston and others. The plan is for Mulholland to grow to 24 books a year, one hardcover and one paperback a month, by 2012.

Mulholland Books is helmed by Editor John Schoenfelder, who joined Little, Brown in January, and Marketing Director Miriam Parker. Other Little, Brown editors also acquire for the imprint. Learn more at www.mulhollandbooks.com. The goal of Mulholland Books is simple: to publish books you can’t stop reading. The promise of a Mulholland Book— whether a crime novel, thriller, police procedural, spy story, or even supernatural suspense—is that you’ll read it leaning forward, hungry for the next word. With a focus on online community building, internet marketing, and authentic connections among authors, readers, and publisher, Mulholland Books will be at the center of a web of suspense— unexpected, fresh, and with a 21st-century approach to publishing. Meet Mulholland: You never know what’s coming around the curve.

Marcia Clark's novel GUILT BY ASSOCIATION will be published in April 2011, while Lawrence Block's A DROP OF THE HARD STUFF will be out the following month.

One of the advantages of being lazy sporadic about blogging these days is that it affords me the longer view on some matters I never would have given all that much thought to before. To wit, My customary habit in years past had been to post any and all mystery genre-related awards shortlists, congratulate the nominees and open up the comments for discussion, if there was anything to discuss.

This year I didn't, which meant the seemingly rapid-fire announcement of Anthony, Macavity and Barry Award shortlists and impending/recent announcement of other award winners (Hammett, Thriller, CWA Daggers, Crimespree Awards, etc. etc) has me wondering if perhaps we're all going about this awards thing the wrong way.

Of course, I can't exactly slough off my own awards judging responsibility, since I'm in my third and final year as chair of the Mystery/Thriller category of the Los Angeles Times Book Prize. And it's a cop out to admit those awards are different, although by virtue of being handed out under the auspices of a newspaper, it's only partially germane to what I'm about to discuss.

The awards given out by the mystery genre generally fall into two camps: those given out by writer-oriented organizations (MWA, CWA, ITW, IACW, etc) and those given out by reader-oriented periodicals (LAT Book Prize, Strand Critic Awards, Barry, Macavity, Crimespree, EQMM Readers' Award.) The LAT Book Prize is kind of an outlier, since it stems from a newspaper, not a magazine, and is just one prize of many literary categories. And the one prize that doesn't fit, and holds the two camps together, is the Anthony Awards: given out for fans, by fans.

My frustration comes from a closer look at category two. When it comes right down to it, what difference does it make if an author wins a Barry or a Macavity, when both periodicals in question - Deadly Pleasures and Mystery Readers Journal - have low circulation numbers that, from what I understand, overlap a great deal? I'm not privy to circulation details for the Strand Magazine or CrimeSpree (or, for that matter, Mystery Scene, which does not give out annual awards) while both EQMM and AHMM run in the low-to-mid five figures, but my feeling is that there's a big echo chamber at work, and being anointed with one or multiple awards in a calendar year ultimately amounts to...not that much.

Get outside the echo chamber and the disconnect becomes apparent. Winning an Edgar doesn't amount to much of a sales bump, so one can imagine there's even less effect from one or a combination of all the awards I'm talking about. Casual readers browsing at a Wal-Mart or even an independent mystery bookstore scratch their heads at the sheer number of prizes they've never heard of, that won't factor much into their book-buying decisions (much as blurbs are derided, often for understandable reasons, they up the probability of a book sale for a given reader at a much higher rate than do the vast majority of awards. That's true in most genres, not just crime fiction.)

Put another way: is John Hart's success due to his multiple Edgar wins and award nominations, or that his publisher, Minotaur, made a concerted effort to get significant bookstore co-op money that has paid off in a big way, so much so that the paperback edition of THE LAST CHILD was one of Borders' "make books" this spring?

So far, no new arguments. But the other issue I have is the self-selection most of these "category two" awards employ. You have to be a subscriber to MRJ to vote for the Macavitys. Technically you have to be a subscriber to vote on the Barrys, though the rules are pretty relaxed. You have to be a member of Bouchercon to nominate and vote for Anthony Award-worthy books. Self-selection is, again, understandable, but what does the genre lose by keeping things to the converted choir, so to speak?

The problem is that my ideal solution, which is to break this chasm wide-open and create something very much akin to the Theakstons Old Peculier Crime Novel of the Year in the UK, which is 100% open to the public and has some decent publicity surrounding the nomination and eventual voting process, got trotted out here and failed miserably. Right, remember the Quills? I do, only because the one year I went was the most godawful example of pointless spectacle I've ever seen.

So instead, for 2011 or 2012 or some year in the not-too-distant future, how about something like this, heretical as it might sound: Instead of, as George Easter proposed for the Barrys, trying to beat the Edgars out of the gate with nominations, let the MWA get first crack, as I believe they should. Then in March, trumpet the news of the North American Mystery Awards (or some other appelation of your choice) that is fully open to the public for nominations in the usual categories - Best Novel, Best First, Best PBO, Best Non-Fiction, Best Short Story, Lifetime Achievement, etc etc - and that is essentially a blown-up amalgam of the Barrys/Macavitys/Anthonys/etc. Maybe each periodical can select a distinguished book or author and there can be a citation/award for that. Create a longlist. Create a shortlist. Ramp up the publicity and the social media. Then hold a ceremony/bacchanalia at Bouchercon and televise/livestream the whole damn thing. And then everyone can get drunk and party.

Or there's a better idea, or several better ideas. Or we can stick to the status quo. But in keeping things the way they are right now, I wonder if the mystery community does itself a disservice with a series of small-sized congratulatory measures instead a larger, more concentrated effort that celebrates the genre more boldly, more comprehensively, and oh yeah, more seriously than what we're doing now. If there are so many fans and so many people reading crime fiction, shouldn't they have even a speck more investment - and if they do, they might be inclined to read (and buy!) more books, attend more conventions and do all the things we desperately want them to do but aren't always adept at reaching out to them for?

One of America's greatest writers has passed on, and even though I shouldn't have been surprised - he was 82 years old and not in the greatest of health the last few years - I am. Gutted, actually. And based on the reaction on Twitter and various blogs, I'm far from the only one. In a way, David Markson needed the Internet, or more accurately, vice versa, to find his rightful place in the literary world. Quotation approprations, short declarative sentences, quick bursts with acres of thought, meditation on artists and writers at work, and a tremendous study of consciousness marked Markson's output since WITTGENSTEIN'S MISTRESS (1988) opened with the phrase "In the beginning, sometimes I left messages in the street." And as our collective attention spans decreased and dovetailed from mass-market pursuits, there was Markson to clue us in to something greater, more amorphous perhaps, but something that pinged the outer reaches of what he termed "seminonfictional semi-fictions."

Others will chime in with more reasoned and coherent essays on what Markson meant for American literature, and I'll link to those as I do to other missives below once they come in. But I got to know the writer's work, and later on, a little bit, the man, through his earliest output, a couple of entertaining and erudite crime novels featuring a scamp of a private detective named Harry Fannin. I'd read THIS IS NOT A NOVEL and had been excited and blown away, and just weeks later I was assigned to write my very first piece for the Los Angeles Times - a double review of those two Fannin novels, EPITAPH FOR A TRAMP and EPITAPH FOR A DEAD BEAT.

Markson clearly wrote the books for money, and a way to make use of some of the genre knowledge he'd gleaned working as an editor for Dell, then one of the pulp paperback mills that couldn't quite hold a candle to Fawcett Gold Medal's granddaddy status. But not unlike John Banville's pseudonymous mystery novels, the Fannin books couldn't help but betray the rudimentary building blocks of themes and topics Markson spent his entire later career working through: baseball, bad puns, William Gaddis's THE RECOGNITIONS, and the writer's struggle for relevance and the artist's relationship to creative pursuits. Years later, I'm still not sure both EPITAPH books qualify as great crime fiction, but they stand out in a way that a great majority of the pulp offerings of then and the more contemporary books of now simply do not. But Markson had greater literary and philosophical goals and those are what he should be remembered for.

After that review he got in touch with me - oddly enough by email, through a friend, since he did not own a computer - and we corresponded a little, by postcard and letter. I'd see him at the Strand Bookstore sometimes, one of his regular haunts, shooting the shit with the cavalcade of managers working the review copy desk in the basement (I hope very much that the Strand will publish its own tribute to the man; one of his very last public appearances was there, in the fall of 2007.) That year, I think, is when the critical tide turned in Markson's favor. He was honored by the American Academy of Arts & Letters, and New York Magazine named him "the best writer you never heard of."

I saw Markson last at the public memorial for David Foster Wallace. I hadn't seen him around for several months and asked after him and his health. But the answer, at least to me, was obvious. He was more frail. He didn't have to articulate his sadness over Wallace's suicide, that a much-younger man with prodigious talent had died too soon, and that it was a far different feeling from watching friends your own age pass on. A thought passed through my head that Markson might not be around much longer and I should get back in touch, lest the inevitable catch me off-guard. Like many good intentions, it wasn't acted upon.

And even if there had been plenty of advance warning, that off-guard feeling would have come for all those who admired what David Markson did, who argued whether the Red Sox really were the best baseball team ever, who listened to his stories of being around the Beats and drinking (too much) at the White Horse Tavern, and who appreciated what he meant to a greater literary culture that, only now, may finally understand him in a greater way and accord him proper due. 

Other Tributes and Links:

• HTMLGiant obituary
• A.D. Jameson, "Loving David Markson"
• Gigantic Sequins tribute
• Pictorial tribute from Jim Behrle
• Ed Champion pays tribute
• Orbis Quintus tribute
• The Constant Conversation tribute
• Kenyon Review obit
• 1989 interview at Dalkey Archive
• 2005 interview at Bookslut
• 2007 interview at Conjunctions
• 2008 interview by Michael Silverblatt
• Niagara Falls Reporter appreciation
• A David Markson introduction, MadInkBeard
• The Complete Review's collection of David Markson criticism
• Correspondence with Gilbert Sorrentino

Marilyn Stasio focuses her attention on new mysteries and thrillers by Deborah Coonts, Michael Koryta, Lee Child, Sophie Littlefield, Elaine Viets and Tarquin Hall.

Also in the NYT, Charles McGrath considers Jim Thompson and the film adaptations - successful or otherwise - of his work.

Did Janet Maslin like Justin Cronin's THE PASSAGE? Maybe, though it's hard to tell from this piece. Laura Miller is less ambiguous in showing her admiration for the nearly 800-page vampire epic.

Oline Cogdill has her say on the new urban sf novel by James O'Neal (aka James O. Born) in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel.

In the Globe & Mail, Margaret Cannon rounds up new crime fiction by Thomas Perry, Lee Child, Stefanie Pintoff, Anne Emery and Brent Pilkey.

Also in the G&M, Cannon chats with Deon Meyer about his South African crime novels, most recently THIRTEEN HOURS.

Who better than Zoe Sharp to comment on the horrific killings in Cumbria by Derrick Bird? Her piece appeared on the BBC's World at One.

Speaking of the BBC, PD James is increasingly critical of the broadcaster, saying that most people actually do have an attention span longer than a minute.

Former NYPD and LAPD Commissioner William Bratton tells Crain's New York Business what he's reading - predominantly police procedurals.

The Chicago Sun-Times profiles Martin Preib, author of one of my favorite non-fiction books of 2010, THE WAGON, which is all about real-life stories on the police beat.

Nice to see a good review of THE DARK END OF THE STREET, one of the strongest and highest firepowered anthologies published in a good while.

The books-to-film beat is shrinking and shrinking some more, especially for books that could be made into quality dramas. Variety investigates the situation.

New York's David Edelstein is tremendously impressed with the film version of Daniel Woodrell's WINTER'S BONE. I cannot wait to see this movie.

Let's all drool over Tim Sheard's 1969 Avanti II. That is one good-looking car.

Yes, self-publishing is gaining a greater foothold in the book industry, in large part thanks to digital options. Let's get used to it, but not assume it'll change things irrevocably.

The kind folks at Salon.com asked me to contribute a list of crime novels worth spending your time with this summer, and with the usual caveats - not enough room, some great books I'm committed to writing about elsewhere, etc. - I picked seven books that rose to the top of the pack. They are:

• A FIERCE RADIANCE, Lauren Belfer
• INSIDE OUT, Barry Eisler
• ICE COLD, Tess Gerritsen
• THINK OF A NUMBER, John Verdon
• BEAUTIFUL MALICE, Rebecca James
• CITY OF VEILS, Zoe Ferraris
• AND THE REAPERS ARE THE ANGELS, Alden Bell

I think I'm pretty well recovered from BEA now, though as happens every year, it split my brain in several directions and will take a little while to put everything back together. But one of the highlights was talking with Lee Child, Karin Slaughter and Justin Cronin on Thursday morning, and both GalleyCat and the New York Observer took notes.

Michael Wilson visits with Partners & Crime, the West Village-based independent mystery bookstore and my "alma mater" of sorts.

Oline Cogdill reviews Declan Hughes' latest private eye novel, CITY OF LOST GIRLS, in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel.

Hallie Ephron digs into THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE on its 40th anniversary.

The Chicago Tribune's Julia Keller talks with Lee Child about his newest #1 bestselling Jack Reacher novel, 61 HOURS.

Tom & Enid Schantz have their say on new mysteries by Kenneth Wishnia, Laurie King and Robert Barnard in the Denver Post.

Jeffery Deaver will pen the next James Bond novel, and interestingly enough, it will be released next year by Deaver's usual UK and US publishers, Hodder & Stoughton and Simon & Schuster.

Congratulations to Alan Bradley, Howard Shrier, Peter Robinson, and other winners of the Arthur Ellis Awards, handed out earlier this week.

Luc Sante praises the work of Charles Willeford - who is one of my all-time favorite crime writers - as he talks to the WSJ about I WAS LOOKING FOR A STREET, Willeford's entertaining memoir of his youth spent perpetually on the move.

I linked to the WSJ's gargantuan summer book preview package, but it's worth breaking out both Tom Nolan's mysteries & thrillers roundup and this quote from George Pelecanos on what he's reading this summer: "I'm not going to play that game. Everyone says something that sounds smart and ends up taking Michael Connelly to the beach."

Yes, Bill Clegg was a crack addict and has written a memoir about it. But the real story, to my mind, is that he's made even bigger, flashier deals for his clients since returning to agenting with William Morris Endeavor. Moral of the story: everyone loves a comeback. And that's a good thing.

John Grisham chats with the Telegraph about his first foray into children's fiction with THEODORE BOONE: KID LAWYER.

Howard Mosher reviews DIAMOND RUBY by Joe Wallace in the Washington Post, and while I wish the piece wasn't so much about plot summary (seriously?) I'm very glad to see a newspaper give this wonderful book its due!

The Guardian asks a number of writers, including John Banville, Ian Rankin and Margaret Atwood, to answer questions they've never been asked. Some of the chosen authors clearly missed the point (seriously, Barbara Trapido? No one asks you how you research your novels?) While Banville went the extra satirical mile.

And finally, how to cross the English channel with the help of helium balloons.

My newest Dark Passages column for the Los Angeles Times had a small agenda, I must admit. Most reviews and profiles concerning Michael Koryta, who debuted with quite the deserved splash in 2003 with his award-winning PI novel TONIGHT I SAID GOODBYE, tend to stress certain topics, and understandably so. But with his sixth book, SO COLD THE RIVER, Koryta has a new direction (reality-grounded supernatural thrillers) and a new publisher (Little, Brown) and those seemed more important matters to discuss than how old he is.

Age, specifically youth, as a hook is fine for a first novel, maybe a second - it's a marketing game, and anything that garners attention when an author is just starting out is part of that game* -- but several books in, who cares? Readers don't. They want to embrace a good book or ignore a bad one. SO COLD THE RIVER is a good book, so the conversation stuck pretty close to its contents. Here's an excerpt from the piece:

Much of [the book] takes place at the opulent West Baden Springs Hotel, which Eric visits soon after its restoration: "It started with that misplaced quality out here in the middle of nowhere, and then built on the astonishing design and a restoration job so carefully and perfectly completed that entering the building was like walking out of one century and into another."

Koryta had a similar reaction upon seeing the hotel's actual restoration in 2007 (West Baden and French Lick are real towns, the Lost River is an actual river, and Pluto Water was a real bottling plant) after decades of disrepair and ruin, a long way from its heyday. "Ask anyone involved in the town in 1924 what its future was: It would have been glorious. It was an international destination. This was where [ Franklin] Roosevelt first announced his presidency run. Then the Depression hit, and the town really died, just vanished."

The sight of the restored hotel helped transform some half-formed ideas ("In terms of crime novels, everything kept turning into a casino heist novel," he said) into a story full of all sorts of ghosts: "I thought that was such a beautiful slice of real history that could say so much, that I could manipulate so well for story purposes."

For what it's worth, age did come up in my talk with Koryta, who was in New York for BEA, but in a different way: many of his novels, SO COLD THE RIVER included, feature elderly characters with a significant role in the story. I asked Koryta what drew him to writing about such folks, specifically Anne McKinney, an eighty-something lady with a very spry personality and an obsession with the weather:

I think part of real fun of writing is to put yourself in a very different place from your own life. I don't like to try and pass off a young character as a wise voice, as it's not generally true. It also renders books hollow, in a way, if you only feature perspectives of youth. I've always drawn towards wiser influences because they have been important in my own life. There's a little element of...I hear lots about my age - it's mostly good-natured, and I take it that way. But there is certainly an element of wanting to write from perspective of 87 year old woman to see if anyone would buy it. It seemed like a lot of fun.

For a complementary take on Koryta and SO COLD THE RIVER, see Lauren Mechling's profile in the Wall Street Journal, part of their epic Summer Book Preview.

*Boy, am I glad I am no longer in my 20s. That's one trap I avoid when I get around to publishing a book.

The Daily Beast has been running a series devoted to emerging writers, and their first two choices - THE INVISIBLE BRIDGE by Julie Orringer and EVERYTHING LOVELY, EFFORTLESS, SAFE by Jenny Hollowell - are very much on the mark, at least in my book. So too is Charles Yu's HOW TO LIVE SAFELY IN A SCIENCE FICTIONAL UNIVERSE, which won't be published until September but which I'm pleased to be writing about now, because the book is such a joy: brainy and accessible, entertaining and ruminative.

Here's an excerpt from the piece:

Yu doesn't shy away from asking tough existential questions—is it possible to kill your own future? What does it mean to be trapped in a time loop? Can you occupy the same space in several universes?—and sparks all sorts of brain explosions in the reader with schematic diagrams, fragmented, occasionally perpendicular narratives, and humorous bullet point lists. But Yu's literary pyrotechnics come in a marvellously entertaining and accessible package, featuring a reluctant, time machine-operating hero on a continual quest to discover what really happened to his missing father, a mysterious book possibly answering all, and a computer with the most idiosyncratic personality since HAL or Deep Thought (and certainly the most memorable neuroses, including a crippling case of low self-esteem that creates boot-up havoc.)

Not surprisingly, How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe as written in a non-linear fashion. "If I were to describe the geometry of the book's construction, I guess I would say it was built from the inside out, in concentric rectangles, if that makes any sense," Yu told me in a recent e-mail interview. "I started with the idea that here's this guy, he's in a box. This box he's in is a vehicle of some sort. He's moving through space in his vehicle. But wait, it's not just space. It's time. Okay, he's in a box moving through time, but now, hold up, there's a problem, and I think this is a general issue in trying to create a time travel story, as in, what are the constraints? Because you have to have constraints in a time travel story, and probably a lot of them, otherwise there are going to be way too many degrees of freedom."

Read on for the rest, and I'll be posting some bonus material that couldn't make it into the piece closer to the publication date.

Of course I was going to write about Stieg Larsson. I haven't been able to shut up about the Millenium books since January of 2008, when the UK edition of THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO arrived on my doorstep, I took it with me on a spiritual retreat and spent that time reading instead of doing the spiritual stuff. But I also knew I had to assess all three books at once and now that THE GIRL WHO KICKED THE HORNET'S NEST's American publication is imminent, I could do just that.

Behold, my newest Criminalist column for the Barnes & Noble Review. It's spoiler-ridden as essays tend to be and runs in a million different directions (and could have run in a million more), so I'll only tease the first paragraph:

By now, the narrative of Stieg Larsson is well-established to the point of near-myth. So it goes with a bona fide cultural phenomenon whose creator did not live to see the truly global success of the Millennium Trilogy. The surrounding legal drama between Larsson's longtime partner and family owing to his lack of a will, the excellent movie adaptation of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, the glut of articles about the Nordic crime boom, and the new and forthcoming release of several biographies all underscore and obfuscate the bottom line: these three books resonate for millions of readers as few thrillers do. They—like me—are so hooked that the prospect of an end to the series produces low-to-mid-range frustration. To misquote Samuel Beckett, there can't be more. There must be more. There is no more.

And no, I'm not mentioning the partial fourth manuscript. If it sees the light of day, great, of course I'll read it, and I'll probably feel even more cheated for having read it because it will be unfinished and so many more loose threads will show up. But as long as it's in legal limbo it doesn't count, and book #3 does sum things up very nicely, even if it's akin to a page break and not a true fin. 

There's also going to be so much more Larsson-mania in the weeks to come. Already available are Michiko Kakutani and Laura Miller's reviews, Charles McGrath's NYT Magazine article as well as Lev Grossman's overview of the whole crazy backstage drama (the anti-Larsson rant is fun, too.)

Oline Cogdill has her say on Paul Doiron's excellent debut novel THE POACHER'S SON in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel.

Margaret Cannon reviews new crime fiction by Donna Leon, Olen Steinhauer, Paul Doiron, Jenny White, Anthony Bidulka and Garry Ryan in the Globe & Mail.

Maureen Corrigan invokes Edmund Wilson in her review of Elizabeth George's new Inspector Lynley novel, and also echoes many of my frustrations with George's most recent books (namely, was this book truly necessary?

Barry Forshaw examines the latest crime novel by Stuart MacBride, DARK BLOOD, in the Independent.

Margaret Maron delivered the commencement speech at the University of North Carolina-Greensboro this weekend. Among her advice to graduates: "Life does not come with a GPS. So pack your bags...and enjoy the ride!"

Domenic Stansberry is one of those writers whom I suspect will be appreciated most when it's too late. The SF Chronicle does their best to appreciate him now, but seriously, the Dante Mancuso novels are all worth reading.

Ryan Brown takes a cue from his mother, Sandra, in getting into the thriller writing business. But his tack is a little different - a little more undead, as he tells the Fort Worth Star-Telegram.

Juli Zeh chats with Anna Mundow about her philosophically minded crime novel of many titles: IN FREE FALL (US) DARK MATTER (UK) and SCHILF (her native Germany.) 

Also in the Boston Globe, John Waters discourses on his massive book collection, current favorites and why he likes to put the most shocking tomes in the guest bedroom. 

Mathew Pritchard talks with the Yorkshire Post about growing up as the grandson of Agatha Christie, administering her estate and which of her books endure the most.

Why is Emily Dickinson having her moment now? Holland Cotter investigates.

Canadian children's book icon Robert Munsch delves into his demons - some conquered, others not - with the National Post.

The Studs Terkel radio interview archive, stretching between 1952 and 1997, will be digitized. I am salivating over the hours and hours I could conceivably spend sifting through these auditory treasures.

One hundred and seventeen days of James Patterson.

Finally, with Law & Order now cancelled, what does it mean for New York City's economy?

Sometime soon, Julie Bosman will move beats and report on the publishing industry for the New York Times, replacing Motoko Rich (who will now report on the economy.) Bosman's a familiar face, having filed book-related stories between September 2006 and February 2007, and I presume her prior experience vaulted her to front-runner status for Rich's old job because the learning curve wouldn't be as steep. It also pre-empted a half-joking post in my head for a while that would have offered advice to the paper's incoming publishing reporter. Or at least, mutated it into a larger consideration of what it means to report on a specialized niche for an audience that may have different wants and needs than the niche.

I've become increasingly aware the longer I've written about publishing for a business news site that some stories that are big news within the industry carry little relevance outside of publishing circles. That means certain news items I pay attention to and analyze to death via Twitter, such as Random House's most recent reorganizations of the Bantam Dell/Ballantine and Crown divisions, won't merit larger stories. It also means that certain topics that are discussed endlessly in the publishing bubble (especially the digerati-populated one), while relevant to the outside world, have to be written about in a way that might come off as eye-rolling rehash. 

So yes, I suppose what advice I'd have for Julie Bosman, or any incoming publishing reporter at any consumer-oriented publication, is to remember that your industry contacts and sources want you to get the story right and be comprehensive and thorough, instead of picking and choosing what will make thee best narrative (this, I think, has been the crux of Publishers Lunch's semi-ongoing series of posts playing factcheck on the NYT's e-book and agency model stories over the last few months.)

But I also think it's important for the publishing industry to remember that the NYT isn't catering to them, and that their audience, being broader and larger, has very different considerations. Just as that paper's considerations will differ from its so-called competitors, so that certain stories are a natural for one publication and will never appear in another.

None of this is earth-shattering, but I don't think I've seen a real breakdown of what kinds of book and publishing stories appear from each publication. So let me offer my own interpretation of who's covering the beat and their publication's given audience:

Associated Press (Hillel Italie): Exclusive scoops on book deals by notable politicians (George W. Bush, Sarah Palin), Celebrities/Hollywood types (Marilyn Monroe, James Cameron, John Sayles) or journalists (Bob Woodward). Plagiarism scandals. Lengthy profiles of historians, biographers, politically-minded folk, and literary figures with some degree of longevity (Deborah Eisenberg). Notable awards, like the National Book Awards, the NBCC Awards, and the latest inductees into the American Academy of Arts & Letters.

New York Times (formerly Motoko Rich, now Julie Bosman): Higher-end revolving door, such as CEO exits, massive layoffs, authors switching houses when there's a lot of money involved, book deals of a seven-figure variety. Increasingly more stories on e-books and digital developments as it affects readers. Profiles of recently published or about to be published authors with some buzz. Notable awards.

Wall Street Journal (Jeffrey Trachtenberg): quarterly reports for big publishing houses. New digital developments (like Google Editions, when an e-reader is supposed to ship/why it's been delayed). Some author profiles, especially from an industry/book sales standpoint, though increasingly those are being done by colleague Alexandra Alter.

USA TODAY (Bob Minzesheimer): big features on authors, either bestselling (Stephenie Meyer, Rick Riordan) or on track to be (Wes Moore). Snippets of information relating to the USA TODAY bestseller list. Notable awards. Ever mindful that its audience is national, reads the paper at hotels, doesn't have a lot of time for depth.

New York Magazine (Boris Kachka): analysis on the so-called end of the publishing industry. Q&As/in-the-field pieces on authors who have a specific anchor to New York City. More of a "glamor" (trade publishers, big six, agents and editors you've heard of) focus instead of a business one.

New York Observer (formerly Leon Neyfakh, now Molly Fischer, who spends most of her time editing the Daily Transom blog): Andrew Wylie's latest literary estate grab. Book deals by hot new literary writers. Profiles of bright young literary things. Reorganizations at large publishing houses, with analysis. E-books, not so much.

GalleyCat (Jason Boog): Publishing moves, with memos attached; Q&As with literary agents, editors and other industry types; job ads; half for publishing industry types, half for authors. Increasing emphasis on e-books and digital.

EBookNewser (Craig Morgan Teicher, though not for much longer; replacement TK) What the name says: all things e-book and digital. Product reviews and conference reports. Some crossposting to GalleyCat.

DailyFinance (moi): Quarterly reports. Ron Burkle and his ongoing battle with Barnes & Noble. Borders successful last-ditch effort to secure more financing and stay alive. E-books and digital with a financial or retail angle. Publishing moves at the executive level (i.e. Random House adding an M&A person, Macmillan falling afoul of the World Bank.) 

The National Post (Mark Medley): author profiles; the "ecology of publishing" series from many vantage points, including editorial, book publicity, marketing, e-books.

The Globe & Mail (John Barber): Author profiles of the NYT "lots of buzz" variety. Not as much on the purely industry news side, and those big stories - Amazon opening up a consignment warehouse in Canada proper, the parallel importation debate - are handled by others, including James Adams. 

FYI, I'm leaving out truly trade-oriented publications and websites (like Publishers Weekly, Publishers Lunch, Shelf Awareness, Publishing Trends, BookBrunch, Book2Book and The Bookseller in the UK, Quill & Quire in Canada, Publishing Perspectives for the entire world, to name a few) - that are geared towards the publishing community, or varying slices of it, as well as book-focused but not necessarily publishing focused publications who, say, might write up literary galas and book awards but aren't so concerned with publishing. (Jacket Copy, run by Carolyn Kellogg, has some industry and digital stuff, but the focus is more generally bookish. Almost all the newspaper-run book blogs are just that, so less concerned with industry news.)

It also goes without saying there are fewer people who are devoted outright to the publishing beat. The Washington Post had Bob Thompson for years, but he's retired and no one has really replaced him. Josh Getlin covered publishing for the Los Angeles Times until he was laid off in 2008, and while author profiles abound, publishing stories really do not. Keith Kelly used to pay more attention (hence "NY Post dollars" for book deals, due to the inflated numbers almost always reported in his stories) but less so these days. When Mike Fleming was at Variety, he used to report on publishing as it related to the film business every now and then. Now that he's at Deadline, it's less of a priority.

In any case, I hope this haphazard guide - which, based on past experience, is subject to immediate and obsolescence-inducing change - explains why some stories run in some publications and not others, and why audience is a huge consideration in what you'll read in said publications.

Marilyn Stasio reviews new crime fiction by Paul Doiron, Michael Harvey, Donna Leon and Jassy MacKenzie for the NYTBR.

Oline Cogdill has some fun with Elaine Viets' new "Dead End Job" mystery, HALF-PRICE HOMICIDE.

Marcel Berlins has his say on new crime & thrillers by Donato Carrisi and Simon Conway in the Times of London.

The Seattle Times' Adam Woog looks at what's new in the genre by Michael Gruber, Jon Talton, Elizabeth George & Robert Dugoni.

The G&M's Margaret Cannon rounds up new mysteries & thrillers by Deon Meyer, Sam Eastland, Ariana Franklin, Elizabeth George, Dan Smith and Marc Strange.

Lee Child explains his predilection for minimalist apartment decor and a sizable book collection in the Wall Street Journal. Meanwhile, Esquire editor in chief David Granger loves the Jack Reacher novels, but appears to miss the point on the latest, 61 HOURS, by a mile.

John Connolly riffs on his fears of jumping the shark and how series characters go stale in the Irish Independent. His new novel, THE WHISPERERS, is reviewed by the Independent's Mark Timlin.

Scott Phillips reveals the contents of his record collection to the Riverfront Times.

From last week, a good piece in the LA Times about Michael Connelly's hands-on research for the Harry Bosch novels.

Alexandra Sokoloff faces what appears to be a frivolous lawsuit about someone's name being used in her most recent book.

Miguel Syjuco talks with the National Post, the NYT and the Wall Street Journal about his debut novel ILUSTRADO, which won the Man Asian Literary Prize and followed an unusual route to publication.

David Mitchell makes the essay rounds in honor of the UK publication of his most excellent new novel THE THOUSAND AUTUMNS OF JACOB DE ZOET, discoursing on writing his first opera libretto in The Guardian and his thoughts on historical fiction in the Telegraph. He also reveals his life in travel to the Independent and the profundity of photocopying in the Observer.

A.O. Scott ponders whether Generation X is in a midlife crisis. Considering how many men hovering around age 40 I've encountered over the last few years who traffic in passive-aggressive behavior that barely masks deep rage, yeah, I'd say so.

Also from last week: the 2010 Derringer Award winners, and the Agatha Awards were given out at Malice Domestic.

And finally, TWILIGHT influences the hot baby names of 2009. If that doesn't signify what a cultural phenomenon the books (and movies) are, I don't know what does. Will "Lisbeth" be among the most popular names of 2010 then?

The Daily Beast asked me to list what I consider to be the best books in the true crime genre, and I obliged. Many offerings are what you'd expect - IN COLD BLOOD, THE EXECUTIONER'S SONG, HELTER SKELTER - but there was no way I was going to come up with a list like this and not include one of the formative books of my reading experience, Jurgen Thorwald's CRIME & SCIENCE, published in English in 1967:

I received this book as a birthday gift from my college roommate during my freshman year, and I think it played a huge role in why I pursued a master's degree in forensic science. Thorwald writes with exceptional clarity about cases obscure and famous that were solved through forensic techniques like blood typing and elemental analysis of gunshot residue. They may now seem quaint in the age of DNA and CSI-style glamorization, but current criminalists owe a lot to their chemically-minded pioneers. Both this book and its earlier companion volume, The Century of Detective—which lost the Edgar Award for Best Fact Crime to In Cold Blood—ought to be rescued from out-of-print neglect to educate and entertain new readers.

Jurgen Thorwald wasn't his real name, and he wasn't a practicing criminalist or doctor - he was a journalist who studied his chosen subjects in depth and then worked very, very hard to convey complex concepts as concisely as possible to the layman reader. 

And, in THE CENTURY OF THE DETECTIVE, he got the essence of why Sherlock Holmes appealed to millions of readers nearly 100 years after his creation - and still appeals now:

Sherlock Holmes was the harbinger of a kind of criminological investigation which did not fit into any of these special [forensic] disciplines, and which ultimately far surpassed them in range. What Holmes did was to avail himself of all the chemical, biological, physical, and technological methods which were springing up at the turn of the century.

These are two books I'll be rereading again soon; they are well worth anyone's time, especially those looking for a good history of how the fields of forensic science and medicine came to be.

My newest LA Times column looks at THE SINGER'S GUN, the new novel from Emily St. John Mandel that will very much appeal to crime fiction readers, though it doesn't quite fit neatly inside genre lines, as I explain in the opening paragraphs:

Crime fiction, for good or for ill, adheres to a discrete series of states. Order out of chaos — that's the mystery novel, hard-boiled or cozy, in a nutshell. Chaos out of order — that's the ethos of noir. Those existential constraints are equal parts limiting and liberating. But when the world itself refuses to stick to these scripts (Eyjafjallajökull, anyone?) and a healthy dose of escapism can't quite convince people that God's in his heaven and all's right with the world, something a little more ambiguous, even ambitious, is called for.

Emily Mandel's two novels to date are essentially crime fiction viewed through a series of cracked, opaque mirrors. Her much-lauded debut novel "Last Night in Montreal" (Unbridled: 248 pp., $15.95 paper), had it stayed within the comforts of genre lines, would have been a straightforward account of a Philip Marlowe-style private detective with a big secret on a perpetual search for a parental kidnapping victim.

That storyline would have made for a fine first effort, but the reading experience of "Last Night in Montreal" is more rewarding for the multiple vantage points on offer, shining a veritable halogen lamp upon that grown-up girl's obsession with disappearance and reinvention, those left baffled by her actions, and the general nagging feeling of not being who you're supposed to be or making the right decision — or the wrong one.

Mandel's talent is clearly visible from the get-go, but what's more pleasing is the added strength and control of her far superior sophomore effort, "The Singer's Gun" (Unbridled: 288 pp., $24.95). Lingering narrative tentativeness and some wobbly sentences have all but disappeared here, as carryover themes of identity confusion and fractured relationships and newer explorations of pervasive corruption and moral quagmires deepen and ripen. The net effect is akin to an Eric Ambler novel with greater development of internal consciousness for multiple protagonists...

Read on for the rest. THE SINGER'S GUN stayed with me in a way that much of what I've read so far in 2010 has not, and I suspect the experience will reward those who give the book a shot. The novel's received a great deal of love from independent booksellers, who designated it their #1 pick for May's IndieNext list.