The Book was...Different

 All of us who love both movies and books have made the comment at one time or another: "The book was better than the film." This usually happens when we hear that a book we really like is getting the Hollywood Treatment. Simultaneously, we are excited and terrified. Will the film be as good as the book? Will it contain everything we loved about the book? Of course, these days, when Hollywood (and other film capitals) seem intent on trashing the past, trampling on our beloved franchises, and fusing propaganda and entertainment, we often wonder, "Will the film be anything like the book?" Of course, we don't really need a struggling NWO to trample on books. Hollywood has been doing that for years.

I recall when the film World War Z was released. One review I read after its debut stated, "The film has everything you loved about the book's...title." At that time, I had not read the book, so I did not understand exactly what he meant. When I finally read the book, I understood. The film was forgettable overall, but I remember it had Brad Pitt in it and was shot in every exotic location willing to give the filmmakers a tax break. Alas, no underwater zombies or epic battles, just bland characters, silly situations and a quick fix to the world's end. Prior to penning World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War, Max Brooks wrote the satirical, yet extremely practical The Zombie Survival Guide, which I keep on the nightstand next to my bed...you know, just in case.

Not long after I read the survival guide, I had occasion to summon the police to help with a car parked across my driveway. That morning, I had had to drive the Wife's car down the sidewalk till I could pull onto the street so she would not be late for jury duty. When the officer arrived, he saw the problem and called a tow truck...as it turned out, the guy who drunkenly parked there had just got his car out of impound because it had been towed after blocking another driveway. While we were waiting for the tow truck, the officer noted I had a new driveway gate up by the house. He commented on how well built it looked, an improvement on the old gate it had replaced. I told him, "Well, yes, it is well built, but it won't hold off anything worse than a Zombie Level 1 siege." Without a pause, he replied, "Hopefully, it won't come to that, and perhaps the Zombie Apocalypse will pass Chula Vista altogether." Ah, ya gotta love the officers of the CVPD.

The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) was a film that had quite an impact on me as a kid. Of course, I did not see it when it first came out, but did around 1959 or so. At the time I just accepted how it was portrayed on the small screen, and said "Klaatu barada nikto" ("Klaatu dead. Repair him. Do not retaliate") like everyone else who lives and dies by film quotes. It was not until years later that I discovered the basis of the film was a 1940 short story entitled "Farewell to the Master" by Harry Bates. It appeared in the October 1940 issue of Astounding Science Fiction (now Analog-Science Fiction/Science Fact), but I did not come across it till much later, in a 1994 Barnes & Noble anthology, Reel Future edited by Forrest J. Ackerman & Jean Stine. What do the story and film have in common? Not a lot, really. 

A spaceship (not a flying saucer) lands outside the Capitol in Washington DC, an alien named Klaatu emerges with a giant robot (Gort in the film, Gnut in the story), and Klaatu is shot. In the story, he dies, his body is placed in a mausoleum and the robot stands unmoving. In the film, the wound is not fatal, Klaatu hides in the general population and story goes from there, eventually ending as a warning against the Earth about the use of nuclear weapons. It's a well-made film, but it's really just a message film, tying its impact into a theme that was more important then than it is now. The story, however, is an "idea story," like many of the stories that emerged from Astounding SF in the 30s and 40s. The precipitating events (the landing and Klaatu's death) happen years prior to the start of the story, and we first see Gnut through the eyes of a reporter who, at night, sneaks into the museum built around the motionless 8-foot-tall humanoid robot. There, he sees the robot move, enter the ship and attempt to reconstruct Klaatu from a recording. The recording is flawed, so the new Klaatu dies (again) and the reporter provides a flawless recording so the robot can use it back home to bring Klaatu back to a stable life. Just before the robot heads back to the stars, the reporter asks him to tell his master, the new Klaatu, that the death was a terrible accident. The robot's reply: "You misunderstand. I am the master."

The Thing from Another World was another film that made an impression on me. Unlike The Day the Earth Stood Still, I did not see this one till much later in life, probably in my mid- to late-teens. As I watched it, I felt a strange sense of familiarity. I watched the scientists at an Arctic research station find a flying saucer that had been buried under the ice for a long time. I got a little chill as I saw them arranged in a perfect circle around the spaceship's circumference. Of course, I knew all about flying saucers because I was heavily into studying them, something that had fascinated me ever since seeing a circular craft in the night sky when I was about nine or so. When the scientists found the pilot frozen in ice and brought it inside the research station, the reason for the familiarity finally struck me--it was the same plot as a 1938 story called "Who Goes There?" by Don A. Stuart (John W. Campbell Jr). I settled back to watch the story I knew so well unfold...and was thoroughly disappointed. 

Now, don't get me wrong. The film is well-written, well acted and the photography is superb, but it is the story of a blood-drinking vegetable that ends up getting fried. In the story, the alien is a protean predator, highly intelligent and intent on getting out of the Arctic where it can use its shapeshifting powers and ability to reproduce asexually to displace humanity. The film's strength was in producing a claustrophobic horror, much as we experienced in the film Alien, which was based on an uncredited story by A.E. van Vogt. In the story, the focus is on paranoia. Because of its powers and intelligence, the alien can be anyone, from the sled dog to the fellow sitting next to you. I have always held the opinion, if you are going to base a film on a story, film that story, not something that is nothing like the story. Otherwise, just come up with an original script. Now, this was not the end of "Who Goes There?" and Hollywood, because it served as the basis for John Carpenter's 1982 The Thing. In this version, they get the creature's powers correct (very graphically), but the film...well, most people seemed to like it.

There's really no end to the number of films that wasted its source material, but I especially wanted to mention 1979's Moonraker, the 11th film in the James Bond franchise, and one of the worst films in that franchise, though it has stiff competition from Quantum of Solace, Spectre  and (most especially) No Time to Die. The odd thing about Ian Feming's Moonraker is that it is one of the best books in the series. What do the film and the book have in common? A title. That's all. What's different between the book and film? Everything. The moronic and insulting film is so vastly different that instead of re-issuing the standard movie tie-in of the original book, it was decided to hire Christopher Wood to write a novelization of his own insipid screenplay, though the title of the book was James Bond and Moonraker. It was claimed that the filmmakers did not moviegoers to be confused by the differences between the two. Personally, I think they did not want anyone to see how much better Fleming's book was than the film, which, somehow, went on to become the highest grossing film of the series until the superior Goldeneye came along. Just in case you wondered--no, I really did not like the film Moonraker.

Well, I hope enjoyed looking at some films that wasted their source stories. There are a lot more, and you probably have your own favorites. Now, that's not to say that there are not films that showed respect and fidelity to their source books. I can think of several. Hopefully, we'll get a change to take a look at a few of them.

60 (yes, 60) Years of Bond

Oh my, all the hype and hoopla about 2012 being the semicentennial or golden jubilee anniversary of James Bond, Agent 007 with a license to kill and thrill in defense of the British Realm. Life Magazine has even risen from dormancy to publish a special issue dedicated to the man with the Walther PPK and all those tricky cars; if you're a fan, I greatly recommend the Life effort despite the hefty cover price and the error made in You Only Live Twice: the editors claim Bond did not drive any vehicle in the film when, of course, he piloted a small one-man helicopter ("Little Nellie"), brought to Japan by her Uncle Q. All the hustle-bustle about the 50th Anniversary is to spark more interest in the latest Bond film, Skyfall. The problem is, this is not the 50th anniversary, but the 60th, the diamond jubilee, or, more appropriately, the sexagennial. Yes, Commander James Bond may have first graced the silver screen in 1962 when Slyvia Trench became the first Bond Girl (sorry, Honey Ryder comes after her) in Dr No, but Mr Bond was first released on a dangerous Cold War world in Casino Royale, written in 1952 and published the following year. It may surprise those who know James Bond only from the great (and some not so great) films, but Bond made ten book appearances before the first film, and his father was Ian Fleming (1908-1964) writer and real-life WW2 spy.

American readers in the 1950s and 1960s encountered the exploits of James Bond in Signet editions, and those are the editions (except for some British numbers) I have in my own collection. They were published in such great numbers that they are still easily found both on and off line. It's probably more of an emotional/nostalgic connection but I prefer these over the later editions, especially those reissued as a film tie-in. James Bond was for me a literary character before I saw my first Bond film, and that's what I think of him as first, even though the fellows who strut across the screens are the ones who will have the enduring public legacy. My hope as a bibliophile, of course, is that the films will lead people to read the books, just as Guy Ritchie's frenetic Sherlock Holmes films led some people to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. In addition to Fleming's own books, however, there are some other related tomes well worth tracking down.

First and foremost in your ancillary James Bond library should be O.F. Snelling's 007 James Bond: A Report, published in 1964. Snelling was a Bond fan from the very beginning, with the publication of that "remarkable book" Casino Royale in 1953; additionally, he was an expert on antiquarian books and worked for several prestigious auction houses including Sotheby's. It's natural, then, that his biography concentrates on Bond as revealed in Fleming's tales. As Snelling wrote the book, he knew he was in a race with Kingsley Amis, who was writing his own critical analysis of the Bond novels; beating Amis into print assured the bestselling status of his own book (hitting the stands at the very apex of Bond fever) but it meant he also beat the publication of You Only Live Twice, which contained an obituary (rather premature, as it turned out) for James Bond, issued by MI6 in an effort to set the record straight about certain "high-flown and romanticized caricatures of episodes in the career of an outstanding public servant." He did not rewrite the paperback edition of the book, but did include footnotes here and there. You Only Live Twice is a good place to stop with Bond, since the true identity of the author of The Man With the Golden Gun (1965) is muddled at best, and the less said about Octopussy & The Living Daylights (1966) the better.

The aforementioned Kingsley Amis was a good friend of Ian Fleming and wrote three books in the vein that of importance. The first, The James Bond Dossier (1965), was his own take on the novels, and although the essay from which the book grew was written somewhat earlier, it was Snelling's book that reached the public first, taking away a bit of the thunder which this book deserves. Amis' own status as a literary giant and a Renaissance man gives his book a depth lacked by Snelling's, as well as a hefty dose of dry British humor. The second is The Book of Bond (Every Man His Own 007), published the same year as Dossier and is a foray more solidly into humor, instructing men how to be like James Bond, using extensive quotes from the books as illustrations; the first edition of this British book featured a slipcase entitled The Bible to be Read as Literature, presumable so agents of SMERSH or SPECTER would not be able to spot their wannabe adversary. The third book to consider is Colonel Sun, first of the non-Fleming James Bond adventures, which Amis wrote under the pen name Robert Markham. Bond, in tracking down the kidnappers of M, foils a plot by Communist China to create an international incident. Not Fleming, but a good novel nonetheless, and much more readable than many of the many novels that followed from other hands.

Among the more odd oddities of books about Ian Fleming's literary creation is one written by Benjamin Pratt, a retired pastor of the United Methodist Church. In Ian Fleming's Seven Deadlier Sins & 007's Moral Compass: A Bible Study With James Bond Pratt sees Fleming's tales as modern parables. In seven lessons, complete with biblical references and discussion questions, Pratt examines Fleming's complex spiritual allegories. As Pratt said in an interview with CommanderBond.Net: "...at the core, each Bond tale reflects choices between moral courage and moral cowardice. This is not only reflected in the characters James Bond pursues, but in Bond, as well. When he is true to his duty and mission, his choices are morally courageous. But, like most of us, he gets world-weary (accidie) and he fails to stay true to course. He becomes self-righteous, hypocritical, snobbish, and cruel or lust driven, his most infamous moral struggle. He is constantly battling the inner spiritual and moral war, as well as the war with the deadly demons he pursues." Perhaps the oddest thing about this book is that it actually succeeds in its purpose, and will be of interest to both truth seeker and thrill seeker.

Although there are numerous other books about James Bond (and most of them dwell on nothing but the films), there is just one other book to suggest for your collection of vintage Bond. For Bond Lovers Only (1965), was compiled and edited by Sheldon Lane. Although 19 of the 29 photos in the center of the book are great looking girls from the films (the other photos are of even better looking guns), the real emphasis is on the Bond books, the Bond character, and on Fleming as a writer. Most of the selections have no date or place of original publication, but I think they were either magazine or newspaper features. While the stars of some of the writers have slipped into unfortunate obscurity, many still have prominence today in the fields of spy and crime writing -- in an interview, Raymond Chandler tells what he thinks of Fleming as a writer and James Bond as a tough guy ("a little too tough"); French writer Georges Simenon discusses "the thriller business" in general and Fleming in particular; Jack Fishman interviews Fleming about who Bond is and where he came from; former Communist and espionage expert Bernard Hutton recalls how Fleming interviewed him for an article about spies; and former CIA Director Allen Dulles (The Craft of Intelligence) tells of the Ian Fleming he knew and how he was given his first James Bond book (From Russia With Love), a book he liked not just for its writing but because he lived in Constantinople after the Great War, by Jacqueline Kennedy. More than any of the other books, this one is like sitting down with a few old friends and gabbing about a mutual love.

I don't discount the importance and popularity of the films, and I fully realize that if Bond is around in other 40 years (joining Sherlock Holmes in the Centennial Hall of Fame maintained in the Diogenes Club) it will be because of the influence of the films. Still, I have hopes that people will from time to time return to the source waters of the character, and feel refreshed and enlightened for having done so. And so...

Unreal Biographies

When you are a fictional character (in the real sense, not the metafictional sense), there are two ways you can tell you've crossed the boundary between the printed page and our world -- you either get mail (as Santa Claus did in Miracle on 34th Street), or someone writes your biography. The greatest example of this is, of course, Sherlock Holmes, who not only receives mail regularly at his 221B Baker Street address in London, but has had a slew of biographies (including the best shown below) as well as case studies and monographs. Additionally, several years ago, I was perusing the biographical section at the end of a standard dictionary and came across the entry: "Sherlock Holmes -- English consulting detective." The lexicographer either omitted the word "fictional" or was just admitting the obvious.

Two of Agatha Christie's characters have, through sheer force of personality, made the leap from fiction to biography. They are, of course, Dame Agatha's greatest creations: M. Hercule Poirot, the little Belgian detective with the magnificent moustaches and the egg-shaped head, and Miss Jane Marple, the penurious spinster who knows that the great crime-ridden world is nothing more than a giant version of her little village of St Mary Mead. Truth be told, however, the Belgian sleuth was the lesser child in Dame Agatha's eyes, for she came to resent all the little eccentricities with which she imbued him, and took him to a mostly ignoble death in Curtain; Miss Marple, on the other hand, finished her last case (Sleeping Murder) with dignity. Personally, I think it is because, while Agatha Christie grew away from Poirot, she grew into Miss Marple.

Another British character deemed more real than most people is James Bond, Agent 007 of the British Secret Service, whose characteristics and early exploits were based on the wartime espionage adventures of creator Ian Fleming. Not only is the once secret dossier of this venerable civil servant now open to public inspection through any number of books, it is possible to take walking tours of "James Bond's London."

On this side of the Pond, we have our own share of real imaginary people. Chief among these must be Ellery Queen. When I was a kid, Ellery Queen confused the heck out of me. Was he a writer? Was he a detective? Was he the editor of his own magazine? Was he even a real person? The answer to all four questions is yes...and no. Ellery Queen, I discovered, was actually two cousins, Frederic Dannay and Manfred Lee, who created the detective in 1928 for a mystery novel contest, then submitted the story under the name of the character. So, we have Ellery the character, Ellery the writer (who sometimes write about himself, sometimes others), Ellery the anthologist who creates glittering collections, Ellery the scholar who is the greatest living expert on mystery fiction, and Ellery the editor of his own mystery magazine. No actual biography for Ellery, but boy did he get mail...by the bags full.

Nero Wolfe, America's greatest detective, has lived out his life in books, with the exception of a mundane film and two unfortunately short-lived television series. It is, then, quite a feat that he has achieved such a high level of reality to his fans...to his "Wolfe pack." We've talked a bit about Wolfe previously, so rather than travel down that street again, I only advise you to read his bio.

Contrasted with Wolfe, our next duo of American sleuths have led healthy lives outside the world of print. Perry Mason and Philip Marlowe are actually more known these days through appearances in film and television; some people may even be surprised that they were born in books (when attending a screening of the Sherlock Holmes film, I was amused to hear a girl tell her boyfriend to write down Conan Doyle's name so they could see if the library had any books available). For millions of people, Perry Mason looks just like Raymond Burr, while Philip Marlowe sometimes looks like Humphrey Bogart (or Sam Spade), sometimes like Robert Mitchum. If you read the biography of Mason's creator, Erle Stanley Gardner, you're really reading Mason's bio; Marlowe has his own biography, and when in Los Angeles, that city of mean streets where a man must walk while not becoming mean himself, be sure to take the Philip Marlowe bus tour.

And for a little bit of fun, as well as some great information on Erle Stanley Gardner as a fictional character (yes, the creator becomes the created), it's well worth your time to track down a copy of Susan Kandel's I Dreamed I Married Perry mason.

All the characters who've leapt from fiction to fact are from the mystery genre, and I feel that is no mere coincidence. Only in the mystery world do we have characters coming back again and again, sharing their lives with us, becoming a bit more real with each reading. Those characters outside mysteries who have attained a measure of reality (Harry Potter leaps to mind) are the exception rather than the rule, and in the case of Harry Potter, I would suggest that the lad has more in common with the mystery realm than with any other genre, despite all the potions, broomsticks and bogies. There are lots of reference books about mystery writers and their creations, but I have two go-to books when I want to dig deep, Detectionary andThe Encyclopedia of Mystery and Detection, both by Otto Penzler; they are a bit dated when it comes to the latest crop of sleuths, such as Harry Bosch, Kinsey Millhone and V.I. Warshawski, but I still can't recommend any better.

For a bit of fun and sinful indulgence, however, track down two books "perpetrated" by Dilys Wynn, noted NYC bookseller who founded the first all-mystery bookstore, Murder Ink. Both books show below are reference books, in a sense, but they are also "companionable" books...you know, cozy, like a good English country house murder.

It's a crime!

If you're the kind of person who thrives on contention, argument and bare-knuckle conflict (you know, you think that firecrackers and ant hills were made for each other), there are all sorts of things you can do to amuse yourself -- throw a T-bone into a pack of junk yard dogs, toss chum and sharks into a municipal swimming pool, put $2 price tags on plasma TVs on Black Friday or shove a pork barrel into a Congressional meeting. Or you could just ask fiction fans to define genres. When I attended a World Fantasy Convention, a panel discussion on science fiction vs fantasy led to a battle royal, and I don't mean a war of words. The only agreement was in the need for ice afterwards. You might get a similar reaction if you asked fans to define "crime fiction."

I used to engage in those sorts of futile literary arguments all the time, but not so much anymore. Back in the day, however, I was usually the intransigent force standing firm against the voices of reason and compromise; in the case of crime fiction, I define it pretty much the same way as the National Rifle Association interprets the Second Amendment -- very strictly, and with a tommy gun (metaphorically) close at hand.

Lists of the best crime writing are easy to come by, especially in this age of electronic flummery, but I eschew them in favor of The Armchair Detective Book of Lists edited by Kate Stine. A quick perusal of the Haycraft-Queen list, the Julian Symons list compiled for The Sunday Times, H.R.F Keating's 100 Best list, and the complementary lists submitted by the Crime Writers Association (British) and the Mystery Writers Association (American) reveal one obvious fact -- people are ready to call just about anything a crime novel. I beg to differ. First of all, no spy novels allowed, which eliminates The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, Riddle of the Sands and From Russia with Love. I'm also giving the old heave-ho to the thriller Day of the Jackal, the adventure story Rogue Male, and Conan Doyle's best, The Hound of the Baskervilles. Just for good measure, so long to The Big Sleep, Rebecca and Murder on the Orient Express.

Mystery fans usually had daggers in their eyes (or hands) by this time, and none were at all mollified by the fact that I allowed The High Window, Tiger in the Smoke, Strangers on a Train, The Glass Key, The Grifters, The Third Man and the entire Lovejoy series of books. The ire of the fans (short for fanatics, of course) is understandable, expected and probably even deserved. So, what makes for a crime novel?

Before we look at what aspects are integral to the crime novel (as opposed to mystery or spy novels) we should consider what traits are not necessary for this peculiar and particular sub-genre:

Good guys/Bad guys

Mysteries

An investigation

Justice

Okay, that cuts out a lot of books that masquerade as crime novels in the best-of lists and in publishers lists. So, what is required? Some obvious, and some not so much:

Crime

Criminal(s)

Victim(s)

Motivation

Philosophy

To quote a detective named Zero: "There are no good guys; there are no bad guys -- it's just a bunch of guys." Whereas the heart of the mystery is morality, the core of the crime novel is, if not amorality, then ambiguity.

Detectives and police, other than in supporting roles, generally get in the way in the crime novel, as does any sort of investigation. An obvious example of that is The Maltese Falcon where Sam Spade finds himself tossed back and forth between the antics of criminals and adventurers Kaspar Gutman, Bridget O'Shaughnessy, Joel Cairo and gunsel Wilmer Cook. Everybody thinks Spade is investigating the whereabouts of the Black Bird, but all he's really doing is watching the principals of the crime, and even at the end, when he pegs duplicitous Bridget for the murder of partner Miles Archer, it's neither the result of investigation nor deduction, just an observation of an obvious crime he can't ignore, no matter how much he's tempted. The Maltese Falcon -- no investigation, no police other than knuckleheads  Polhaus and Dundy, and no justice, just the moral ambiguity of Bridget heading off to prison, only because the gunsel is not around to take the fall, and Gutman and Cairo are heading back to Constantinople. Plot and motivation rule, with Spade as a passive nemesis. Not the greatest detective or mystery novel, as some bill it, but certainly the greatest crime novel.

For the crime novel, criminals are essential, but they need not be masterminds, or even competent.  In fact, it may help the plot for them to be small fries in thrall to an organization as ruthless as the Mafia or Wal-Mart. Such is the case in The Grifters by Jim Thompson, where Lilly Dillon works for bookie Bobo Justus. The plot is propelled by Lilly's conflict with Bobo, who thinks she's cheating him, and by Lilly's competition with her weak-willed son's moll for his affections. The novel is infused with crime, criminals, victims, criminals as victims, motivation and the moral ambiguity of the crime novel universe that guarantees there will be no justice, at least not a justice based in a lawful morality. The philosophy of the crime universe is not one of good vs evil, or even of evil vs eviler; the crime philosophy sets aside the concepts of good and evil more deftly than ever did Frederick Nietzsche, who might be considered the patron saint of the crime novel. The Nietzschean race of the television series Andromeda, based on an idea by Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry, perfectly embody the moral orientation of the crime novel -- "I'm on your side, as long as it's my side too; situations may change, but I don't -- I'm always on my side."

While spies might be considered just as morally ambiguous as the crime novel's protagonists, they really are not; they are agents of constituted authority, possessors of a rigid morality oriented to lawful order, even when they act in chaotic-unlawful ways. You can get an idea of the part played by moral philosophy in the crime novel from the graph to the right. Characters like James Bond, Quiller, Matt Helm and Harry Palmer are going to be either Lawful Good or Lawful Chaotic, for their goals, no matter their actions, always support society. Likewise, Sherlock Holmes is going to bounce between Lawful Good (Hound of the Baskervilles), Chaotic Good (The Adventure of the Devil's Foot) and Lawful Evil (The Final Problem). Contrast that with Sam Spade's nature as Lawful Neutral or Lilly Dillion's Neutral Evil. Killers like Patricia Highsmith's Tom Ripley (The Talented Mr Ripley) and Dexter Morgan (from Jeff Lindsay's popular crime novel series) fall into a neutral crack in the universe as well, this time Chaotic Neutral, because their actions neither advance nor retard the course of society; one of Tom Ripley's victims nails the dichotomy  between the mystery/detective/spy universe and the crime universe when he exclaims, "I cannot understand your total disconnection with the truth of things!" There lies the great divide, that which singles out the crime novel as a unique sub-genre to the mystery.

Crime novels are much more difficult to write than other kinds of mystery novels, not so much in the plotting, characterization, motivation or atmosphere, but in the conclusion. Even in a crime novel, where many of the rules go right out the window, the conclusion must still be satisfying to the reader. That's not always an easy task when main characters may be hoods, where everyone may die, where the innocent and the guilty are equally liable to end up in prison, or on a marble slab. When it's handled wrong, you just shake your head, drop the book in disgust and wonder why you wasted your time; when done right, even brilliantly, you have a novel that can be just as cathartic as any morality play by Christie, Chandler, Fleming, P.D. James or Conan Doyle. A toast, then, to crime...and the criminal in all of us.

A small Christmas gift to crime fiction and noir fans:

To Live & Die in Istanbul...or is it Constantinople?

A good city for a murder is London where, according to detective fiction published since the 19th Century, one third of the city is trying to murder another third, while the remaining third solves the crime. And there's New York, where the NYPD will track you down; and Los Angeles, where Harry Bosch of the LAPD will not let you get away with anything; and San Francisco, more known for private eyes than competent police, except Harry Callahan, and the team of Lieutenant Stone and Inspector Keller. Paris is okay for a murder, but only if you're French...it's just the way they are. Other cities have their charms (even Magoddy, Arkansas, I suppose), but for an off-the-beaten-path murder you might consider Istanbul.

Istanbul is not the capital of Turkey (that distinction belongs to Ankara) but it is the most important city in the country economically and culturally. When first founded, it was called Byzantium, from which we derive "Byzantine," the most common term for the Eastern Roman Empire as well as a description of all plots and plans having a complex or duplicitous twist. Byzantium was also very much an allegory for William Yeats, but that's a discussion for another time. Later, it was called Constantinople, after Emperor Constantine, even after its conquest by the Turks in A.D. 1453, a name which persisted through the 1930s when the Turks finally said, "Enough is enough! Call it what we call it -- Istanbul."

No matter what you call it, it's an exotic city, all modern and bright and electrical on one hand, while, on the other, retaining narrow streets, ancient citadels, thronged bazaars, and a nature that can be downright...byzantine. Even when the action of a story is not set directly in Istanbul, just mentioning it can lend an aura of mystery. In both Graham Greene's Stamboul Train and Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express the plot never really leaves the train, but the Istanbul terminus creates a journey into darkness. The Orient Express linked London with Constantinople in 1883, a fact which annoyed me to no end when researching The Quest for the Copper Scroll, which is set in 1882. Because of that, my characters had to journey to Constantinople via steamer out of Liverpool, a long trek which involved stops in Malta, Italy and Greece -- picturesque, yes, but annoying because all locations had to be researched, not to mention steamer schedules. Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon mentioned Constantinople as the home of the old General who had rooked Casper Gutman and company of the Black Bird, becoming an ending and a beginning.

One of the greatest books set partly in Istanbul is Eric Ambler's The Mask of Dimitrios (or Coffin for Dimitrios in the USA) which details a mystery writer's quest for the real nature of a mysterious man who turns up dead in the Istanbul morgue. Though the novel's plot soon propels it to Athens and beyond, as the writer tracks down clue after clue, Ambler's descriptions of the city and its people are some of the best put down on paper. Personally, I think The Mask of Dimitrios is one of Eric Ambler's greatest works, even better than another good book of his set in the intrigue of Istanbul -- The Light of Day, one of those books also with an American alias (Topkapi...named for the film made from the book). In it, a man is hired to drive a car from Athens to Istanbul, but is arrested for drug transportation, and the only way he manages to avoid one of those notorious Turkish prisons (not really as bad as portrayed in Midnight Express) is to fall in with a group of odd ducks planning to rob an Istanbul museum.

An exciting and well written book set almost entirely in Istanbul and its environs is From Russia With Love by former WW2 spy Ian Fleming, one of the best in the series about Bond...James Bond (voted one of film's most famous catchphrases by the AFI), 007, the spy licensed to kill for Her Majesty's Secret Service. Like all the Bond books, this one was made into a film, but, despite its accolades and the presence of Rosa Kleb and Grant, I consider it the weakest of the Sean Connery outings; still it's far above the films made by the pretenders who followed, for, just as there can only be one Highlander, there can only be one Bond, and for both roles there can be only one Connery. As a book, though, From Russia with Love is the best of Fleming's work. Fleming generally loses himself in sport (as he did in Strangway's card game in Doctor No and the put-by-put description of the golf game in Goldfinger), but in From Russia with Love, Fleming sticks to the story and its characters, and Istanbul. Considering what an ace job Fleming did with Istanbul, it's a little surprising he did not include Istanbul in his travelogue book Thrilling Cities, but since those were originally commissioned essays for newspapers, he may not have had a choice.

One modern writer who has grabbed Istanbul by the throat is Barbara Nadel, a former West End actress turned author. She has written (and is still at it) an extensive series of mysteries set in Istanbul, featuring Inspector Cetin Ikmen of the Istanbul Police Department. Miss Nadel did not just happen to choose Istanbul as an interesting setting for some books; instead, it appears the books arose from her love of the city and its people. More than thirty years ago, she started trekking to Istanbul, one of those students with a backpack one sees all over Europe when the schools set loose the inmates, and she kept coming back; when she retired from the stage for the life of a writer, Istanbul was a natural choice. The advantage of a series in a city like Istanbul is that each book can explore a facet of the city -- the Jewish Quarter, a modern office building or a street out of time. In a city like Istanbul, the chain-smoking Inspector Ikmen is never lacking for work.

Not all books about Istanbul involve murders, spies or screams in the night. There is no end to nonfiction published about the city, and a great many of those are travel tomes, some written by people who have actually visited Istanbul. While I've read my share of those, from Edmondo di Amicus' 1878 observations in Constantinople (my copy is a first, bought from a UK seller, but nowadays you can read the same thing in Google Books -- technology stinks) to the latest output from Lonely Planet. One of my favorite books in this vein, however, is A Fez of the Heart: Travels Around Turkey in Search of a Hat by Jeremy Seal. First, I have to say, a fez is cool...I'm wholly in agreement with the Doctor on that. Also, one of the joys of this book, aside from observations of Istanbul and Turkey made through unjaded eyes, is observing the changes wrought in this young man's life by the journey. He starts out very much a worrywart: when will we get there, how will I get around, where will I eat, where will I stay, what if no one speaks English...and the list goes on and on till you wish you could reach into the book and just slap Jeremy; by the time you close the book, your guide is all grown up and not at all worried about what will happen beyond the bend in the road. This book was published in 1996, and I feel it was this quest that enabled Seal to become the very adept traveller and travel writer he is today.

There are lots more books about or set in Istanbul/Constantinople than mentioned above, but these were a few of my favorites. If I ever get around to publishing Quest for the Copper Scroll, there will be one other to join the crowd. Until then, here's a little slide show I made for those who want to experience something of the mystery, intrigue and beauty of Istanbul...

Wanted: Good Bad Guys

The measure of any good guy in mystery, adventure or spy fiction is the caliber of his opponent. Ian Fleming's James Bond was bedeviled by Goldfinger, Doctor No, Ernst Stavro Blofeld, Scaramanga, Emilo Largo and sundry agents of SMERSH. Without his oh-so-memorable villains, 007  would have been just another grey,  underpaid, faceless fellow going in and out of Thames House and getting his teeth kicked from time to time for Queen and Country. Sherlock Homes without the spectre of Professor Moriarty? Quiller or Harry Palmer without their neo-Nazi revivals and cold war boffin brokers? Nero Wolfe without the ruthless Mr X? The Saint without either The Tiger or Chief Inspector Claude Eustus Teal? Doc Savage without John Sunlight, or The Shadow without the mob bosses of Chicago and New York? Dennis Nayland Smith without the insidious Doctor Fu Manchu? Jack Ryan without the KGB and various Islamic dictators? Without proper bad guys to bring out the best in them, our literary heroes are just gumshoes, keyhole peepers and civil servants. Today, though, a good bad guy is hard to find.

Doctor Fu-Manchu, great criminal mastermind of London's East End, based upon a real Chinatown crime lord named Mr King, was not really popular beyond the 1950's, by which time he had transformed into a quasi-ally in the fight against Communism. Yes, the avatar of the "Yellow Peril" became the foe of the "Red Menace" -- I hate it when a bad guy goes good (except Superman #164, where Lex Luthor had a...moment). The deadly doctor became one of the first victims of political correctness, surviving only in the silly mustache named after him...which is odd because he was clean-shaven -- to a master of disguise, a mustache is a handicap.

Lex Luthor is such a good bad guy, I suppose he can be allowed a moment of weakness.

The Nazis were always good bad guys for adventure and suspense novels. Nobody liked them and a writer could shine the worst light possible on them without being sued. Political correctness was not the enemy here, but time. After the war, Nazis popped up as malefactors more often than the Reds. As time went on, we had aging Nazis, reinvented Nazis, and sons of Nazis. Valentine Williams ended his nemesis Clubfoot's life while in service to the Nazis in North Africa; in Frederick Forseyth's The Odessa File, we have Germans hiding a Nazi past; and by the time we get to Ira Levin's The Boys from Brazil, we have to clone the bad guys. Except for period pieces like Raiders of the Lost Ark and Captain America, if you want a novel with the best bad guys of all time, it's going to be set in a rest home or hospice.

Not so scary anymore

If only true...
they were such good villains.

The Soviets were excellent foes in their time. In fact, during the Cold War (of fond memory) the agents of the KGB, the NKVD, Stasi and SMERSH were so good as bad guys they existed almost in a genre of their own. What happened to them? "Mr Gorbachev, tear down this wall!" Well, the Wall fell, so did the "evil empire," and there went the bad guys. Russian terrorists are still around, Russian mafia and the Russian Federal Security Service, but they're just small potatoes, just a patch to the KGB. For great thrillers you need great bad guys. True, shirtless Russian strongman Vlad Putin is trying to resurrect the bad old days, but, trust me, it just won't be the same.

I suppose that among the best of fiction's villains, we must include General Zaroff of Richard Connell's The Most Dangerous Game, who had the vision to consider humans as big game animals long before the Predator came from the stars to hunt the governor of California, and Wisconsin's chief executive for that matter. Unfortunately, the bad general appears only in that story, and his opponent (Sanger Rainsford) is not so much a "good guy" as just the better hunter.

More in the running for best bad guy of all time must be Cthulhu, cosmic creation of  fantasist H.P. Lovecraft (1890-1937). Cthulhu was one of the Elder Gods who ruled the Earth before the coming of mankind and before they were banished to the Dark Dimensions. Cthulhu is said to reside in the underwater city of Ryleh, where he has a call-in talk show and dreams of a time when "the stars will be right" and he and the other Elder Gods will return to wreak havoc in the universe and devour humans like Pringles at a frat party. The main problem with Cthulhu is that he while he's the ultimate bad guy, he has no contentious hero to vex him -- all his opponents either die or go stark barking mad...very frustrating. So frustrating, in fact, that Cthulhu has apparently given up his traditional methods to destroy the world for a more efficient path -- politics.

So what bad guys are left as foils for the modern aspiring novelist to use who wants to raise his hero above the common herd of action figures? North Koreans? Dear Leader is a lunatic, but we don't want to offend the people, and they are oriental. Iranian terrorists? Possible, maybe, just don't mention they're also Muslim. Mafia? No, that's just an urban myth, and I'm sure the good-fellows with Sicilian surnames aren't bad-fellows at all. Gang-bangers? Maybe, if you're writing about "mean streets" and not aiming for grand crime fiction. for they are all petty pathetic punks. Evil geniuses and mad scientists? No, unfortunately they all work for the government now or have tenured university positions; besides, the world is in such sorry shape, do we really need a Doctor Evil to destroy it?

Yep, times are tough for the dashing hero who wants to save the world and make it safe for truth, justice and the American way. Where have all the villains gone?