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Solomon's Vineyard
one missing girl, a cult, an entombed body, and a private detective pushed with his back against the wall. Throw in a dash of raw lust and a pinch of sadomasochistic hatred. Stir violently until boil and serve cold. SOLOMON'S VINEYARD, the totally unexpurgated version of Jonathan Latimer's THE FIFTH GRAVE. Eat. Pure Pulped CLASSIX is a garishly named effort on the part of Resurrectionary Press to provide works of pulp fiction in editions that are cleanly designed and properly typset.
160 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1941
About the author
Jonathan Latimer
55 books23 followersJonathan Latimer was born in Chicago on 23rd October 1906. His main series character was the private investigator Bill Crane. An important character in the development of the hard boiled genre. A notable title is Solomon's Vineyard, the controversy over the content saw the US publication delayed by nine years. The author later concentrated on screen plays and also worked for five years on the Perry Mason television series.
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August 23, 2019
The best hardboiled detective novel you've probably never heard of, Solomon's Vineyard was published in Britain in 1941, but never issued in unexpurgated form in its author's native U.S.A. until 1988.
As Detective Karl Craven tells us in his brief introduction: "This is a wild one. . . it's got everything but an abortion and a tornado." Does it ever. It begins like classic Hammett (a wandering daughter job, a murdered partner, "Red Harvest" style intrigue), gradually transforms into Chandler baroque, and then--three-quarters of the way through--metamorphoses again, this time into "The Arabian Nights" Mike Hammer style: a crypt crammed with gold and jewels revealed to our hero by a hot blonde called "The Princess," who is very into very rough sex. Want to hear more? It also features: a razor-wielding negro bouncer in a bordello, a brother mourning his sister who, when reckless with grief, fires randomly into a steam room, a black-robed assassin, a roadhouse shoot-out which ends with an exploding car, and a religious cult grown rich on bootleg hootch that still has time for human sacrifice and purchases of large lots of rotting meat. Plus a dash of necrophilia and (well, kind of) the resurrection of the dead.
I couldn't decide whether this was the sleaziest great detective novel I'd ever read, or just the greatest sleazy detective novel I'd ever read, so I erred on the side of caution and gave it four stars. Then I thought about it for three years, and one day said to myself: what the hell, give it five.
September 3, 2015
"That's Solomon's Vineyard."
"What?"
"You heard of it," the driver said. "A religious colony . Raise grapes . . . and hell."
Dunn-dunn-dunnnnnnnnnnn!
Private dick Karl Craven is hired to spring a rich man's daughter from a freaky cult and enters into a world of cranky gangsters, willing women and more religious nutjobs than you can shake a shepherd's crook at.
Labeled too hot for US publication in 1941, it seems pretty tame by today's standards. (Because NO ONE EVER HAD S-E-X way back when. Right?)
Though there's nothing particularly outstanding here, it's still a swell read, PLUS there's the added bonus of possibly the greatest gangster name ever - Pug Banta.
Noir fans should not miss this one!
"Bodies always give me goose pimples."
"What?"
"You heard of it," the driver said. "A religious colony . Raise grapes . . . and hell."
Dunn-dunn-dunnnnnnnnnnn!
Private dick Karl Craven is hired to spring a rich man's daughter from a freaky cult and enters into a world of cranky gangsters, willing women and more religious nutjobs than you can shake a shepherd's crook at.
Labeled too hot for US publication in 1941, it seems pretty tame by today's standards. (Because NO ONE EVER HAD S-E-X way back when. Right?)
Though there's nothing particularly outstanding here, it's still a swell read, PLUS there's the added bonus of possibly the greatest gangster name ever - Pug Banta.
Noir fans should not miss this one!
"Bodies always give me goose pimples."
September 9, 2015
opening lines:
From the way her buttocks looked under the black silk dress, I knew she'd be good in bed. The silk was tight and under it the muscles worked slow and easy. I saw weight there, and control, and, brother, those are things I like in a woman. I put down my bags and went after her along the station platform.
The pulpiest pulp detective novel to come out of the 40's! The story was considered too risque at the time of publication for the sensibilities of readers more used to the posh settings and the stiff upper lip elegance of Sherlock Holmes or Lord Peter Whimsey. Even for me, a long-time fan of the noir movies and of the hard-boiled detectives, the first impression on meeting private investigator Karl Craven is that this is a tongue-in-cheek parody of the genre stereotypes. A little research though demonstrates that the hero of Jonathan Latimer's adventure is, instead of a pastiche, the original mould from which so many other detective will be later cast. Together with Chandler and Hammett, Latimer is one of the founding fathers of the style that stormed and brought down the rules of the criminal investigation game in the British mannner.
Karl Craven is not a nice man. He is a cynic without scruples, a lecherous drunkard, an opportunist and a liar. He might be loud, mean, over the top, yet the more time you spend in his company, the more you realize that he is the real McCoy, a true product of the hard times of Prohibion, mob rule and economic depresson. And he's good at what he does, which is why a rich industrialist has hired him to go to a small town in the Midwest and rescue his only daughter from the clutches of a secretive cult.
Karl's atitudes towards 'Negroes', anything wearing a skirt, 'healthy' food, domestic violence and other hot button issues might be a turn-off for a thin skinned reader, but if you can relax and put all these quirks in the context of society as it was in the early 40's, you might just have in your hand one of the best adventures in the field.
I was having a good time. There were only three things I really liked in the world; food, fighting and ... women. Oh yes, and maybe liquor.
Good times for Karl Craven in a nowhere town include, but are not limited to:
- murder most foul of his former partner, sent ahead to test the field
- barroom brawling with the local mobster, delightfully named Pug Banta
- seducing the redhead moll of said Pug Banta
- beating up the matron, the bouncer and a couple of the whores in the local bawdy house... then thoroughly thrashing the place as a lesson not to piss him off
- an exchange of machine-gun fire during a romantic dinner, with a side dish of a burning car through the windows
-
- eating about four pounds of red meat each day (he needs the energy for his night time wenching)
- fighting persistent hangovers with a bottle of brandy and a dozen raw eggs ... each morning
- a bare knuckle fight in a sauna that seems lifted right out of a James Bond movie, only written a couple of decades early.
-
-
One significant short passage shows that Karl Craven knows what he's doing: he can either follow the police procedures and investigate clues, interview witnesses, go on stakeouts; or he can kick the hornet nest , raise hell and see who comes after him with a crowbar. His style requires a man who can take a punch, one who can blend in with the bad guys, who talks their language and walks their walk. If the style sounds familiar, it may be because it is the exact same method advocated by the Continental Op in "Red Harvest", another paunchy, middle-aged, cynical, hard drinking and hard fisted private investigator. To continue with the comparison, both investigators use unorthodox methods, taking the law into their own hands and administering the punishments as they saw fit for the crimes, yet in their own minds, they are still the good guys who keep the rest of us 'sheep' safe from the 'wolves'
Usually Justice was supposed to be a tall dame in a white robe, but in Paulton, I decided, if the citizens ever stuck a statue of Justice on the courthouse steps, it would have to be a fat, red-faced guy with a scar on his belly.
Since I mentioned earlier Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler, I will finish with explaining why I am holding back a star, even as I admit "Solomon's Vineyard" is in many ways just as good as its more famous counterparts. The style of Latimer is sharp, genuine, effective and Karl is entertaining in his first person narrative, yet the prose doesn't soar for me like the wild metaphors of Phillip Marlowe and it doesn't quite reach the emotional intensity of Sam Spade. It's fun, but more than once I wished for more depth and more nuanced, better fleshed out secondary characters.
I plan to read more from the short list of Latimer's novels, and even to watch some of the movies where he worked as scriptwriter. It's not too late to turn even the present novel into a movie. I believe it will be a success, with fun lines like this last quote:
"Charles, it would be nice now if you got me that blonde from the Vineyard."
He rolled his eyes. "You don't want her, Mister Craven."
"How do you know what I want?"
"They say that blonde's poison."
"Listen, Charles, if blondes were poison, I'd have died thirty years ago."
January 9, 2024
Six years before Mickey Spillane blasted across the pages of history, there was a hardboiled world of Hammett, Chandler, Horace McCoy, James Cain, and ..... Jonathan Latimer. He wrote a book- Solomon's Vineyard- that was so violent and filled with sexual heat that it was banned in the US for forty years.
If you like Mickey Spillane, you will like Latimer. This book is red hot, sizzling, and as violent as it can get. And, the most unbelievable thing is that it was published in 1941. They didn't have books like this then, did they?
The basic story involves a hardnosed PI, Karl Craven, who heads to a small town to bring a rich girl back to her family. She has been brainwashed and is under the control of the Solomon's Vineyard cult on a property sitting above the small town. The town is as corrupt as can be and is controlled by a mobster and his goons. Who knew they had cults like this back then? There is gambling, bars, all out gun battles in the streets, murder, and general mayhem at every turn and a hardboiled attitude that makes one reconsider what hardboiled fiction is all about.
The most amazing thing about this book though is not the cult, which feels like a sixties sort of thing, but the whole attitude beginning with the first page. The opening line is as follows: "From the way her buttocks looked under the black silk dress, I knew she'd be good in bed. The silk was tight and under it the muscles worked slow and easy." What an amazing opening- particularly for a 1941 book. Who is this Princess? The narrator explains: "She walked towards the waiting- room. She had gold-blonde hair, and curves, and breasts the size of Cuban pineapples. Every now and then, walking, she'd swing a hip until it looked like it was going out of joint and then she'd throw it back in place with a snap, making the buttocks quiver under this dress that was like black skin. I guess she knew I was following her." Wow. And, that's the leader of the cult- the Princess as they all call her who controls the cult and the town with an iron fist when she isn't busy seducing PIs in her sadomasochistic fashion.
Our PI narrator gets to his broken down hotel and sees that the women were looking at him. "One of them was younger than then others; a pretty redhead with her skirt pulled high over crossed legs. Her face was sullen, and when I looked at her she stared right back at me. She had beautiful legs." And the first time he sees her standing up, he notes that she "was something to see. She had a million-dollar figure, as they say. She was tall, and it was nice to see good breasts on a tall babe."
The descriptions of the various characters in the book are great. The chief of police is described as "a fat man with a red face and pale blue eyes." A hood is described as "a sour-looking guy in a double-breasted blue suit." Another hood "had mean blue eyes and he needed a shave. He had the longest arms I ever saw on anything more civilized than an orangotang."
And when it comes to all out fights, nothing is tougher than Latimer's writing: "Part of the man's face tore away and he slid out of sight. Waterman lay on the floor, bent like a pretzel." The narrator explains that Ginger "had long, slender legs. I wished we were alone. Blood always excites me."
This book is as hardboiled, violent, and rough as anything you will find anywhere. It's simply hardboiled goodness. If you can get your grubby little hands on it, do so. And you will marvel that anything like this was published in 1941.
If you like Mickey Spillane, you will like Latimer. This book is red hot, sizzling, and as violent as it can get. And, the most unbelievable thing is that it was published in 1941. They didn't have books like this then, did they?
The basic story involves a hardnosed PI, Karl Craven, who heads to a small town to bring a rich girl back to her family. She has been brainwashed and is under the control of the Solomon's Vineyard cult on a property sitting above the small town. The town is as corrupt as can be and is controlled by a mobster and his goons. Who knew they had cults like this back then? There is gambling, bars, all out gun battles in the streets, murder, and general mayhem at every turn and a hardboiled attitude that makes one reconsider what hardboiled fiction is all about.
The most amazing thing about this book though is not the cult, which feels like a sixties sort of thing, but the whole attitude beginning with the first page. The opening line is as follows: "From the way her buttocks looked under the black silk dress, I knew she'd be good in bed. The silk was tight and under it the muscles worked slow and easy." What an amazing opening- particularly for a 1941 book. Who is this Princess? The narrator explains: "She walked towards the waiting- room. She had gold-blonde hair, and curves, and breasts the size of Cuban pineapples. Every now and then, walking, she'd swing a hip until it looked like it was going out of joint and then she'd throw it back in place with a snap, making the buttocks quiver under this dress that was like black skin. I guess she knew I was following her." Wow. And, that's the leader of the cult- the Princess as they all call her who controls the cult and the town with an iron fist when she isn't busy seducing PIs in her sadomasochistic fashion.
Our PI narrator gets to his broken down hotel and sees that the women were looking at him. "One of them was younger than then others; a pretty redhead with her skirt pulled high over crossed legs. Her face was sullen, and when I looked at her she stared right back at me. She had beautiful legs." And the first time he sees her standing up, he notes that she "was something to see. She had a million-dollar figure, as they say. She was tall, and it was nice to see good breasts on a tall babe."
The descriptions of the various characters in the book are great. The chief of police is described as "a fat man with a red face and pale blue eyes." A hood is described as "a sour-looking guy in a double-breasted blue suit." Another hood "had mean blue eyes and he needed a shave. He had the longest arms I ever saw on anything more civilized than an orangotang."
And when it comes to all out fights, nothing is tougher than Latimer's writing: "Part of the man's face tore away and he slid out of sight. Waterman lay on the floor, bent like a pretzel." The narrator explains that Ginger "had long, slender legs. I wished we were alone. Blood always excites me."
This book is as hardboiled, violent, and rough as anything you will find anywhere. It's simply hardboiled goodness. If you can get your grubby little hands on it, do so. And you will marvel that anything like this was published in 1941.
May 2, 2024
This was the second time I'd read this.
I own the Black Mask Online edition but decided to download the Kindle version for reading while on vacation. I became suspicious of the Kindle version after reading comments someone over in the Hardboiled Group Reading Thread posted re: the Kindle edition being an edited version of this.
I decided to wait to return home and read my original Black Mask Online edition.
I had fun with this. As much fun as I had the first time I read it.
As good as this is, it's not up to the quality of Latimer's best pulp fiction novels.
Those would be his remarkable alcoholic private eye Bill Crane series: Murder In The Madhouse (1935), Headed For A Hearse 1935), The Lady In The Morgue 1936), and The Dead Don't Care (1938). There's also a title I don't own but would love to find- Red Gardenias (1939) reissued as Some Dames Are Deadly (1955).
The detective in "Solomon's" (who can remember names?) seems to have a voracious appetite for food, booze, and women and likes to annoy people. He's kind of an unpleasant wise guy and I'd hate to spend a long train ride with him in a seat beside mine.
The plot bears a slight resemblance to the plot of Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett
He doesn't so much as solve the mystery/case/crimes as the resolutions sort of fall into his lap.
I've read comments from some people who were upset by the occasional racist and sexist jibe.
All I can say is that style of writing is from an era when people were not sensitive to racial or sexual stereotyping.
Before embarking on this of-its-time cockeyed-thriller offended readers might need to first watch the Whoopi Goldberg disclaimer at the beginning of the DVD collection "The Looney Tunes Golden Collection Volume 3" which can be viewed here" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCT1c...
Goldberg’s commentary should be included as a foreword in any future reissues of this stupidly fun, breezy read.
I own the Black Mask Online edition but decided to download the Kindle version for reading while on vacation. I became suspicious of the Kindle version after reading comments someone over in the Hardboiled Group Reading Thread posted re: the Kindle edition being an edited version of this.
I decided to wait to return home and read my original Black Mask Online edition.
I had fun with this. As much fun as I had the first time I read it.
As good as this is, it's not up to the quality of Latimer's best pulp fiction novels.
Those would be his remarkable alcoholic private eye Bill Crane series: Murder In The Madhouse (1935), Headed For A Hearse 1935), The Lady In The Morgue 1936), and The Dead Don't Care (1938). There's also a title I don't own but would love to find- Red Gardenias (1939) reissued as Some Dames Are Deadly (1955).
The detective in "Solomon's" (who can remember names?) seems to have a voracious appetite for food, booze, and women and likes to annoy people. He's kind of an unpleasant wise guy and I'd hate to spend a long train ride with him in a seat beside mine.
The plot bears a slight resemblance to the plot of Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett
He doesn't so much as solve the mystery/case/crimes as the resolutions sort of fall into his lap.
I've read comments from some people who were upset by the occasional racist and sexist jibe.
All I can say is that style of writing is from an era when people were not sensitive to racial or sexual stereotyping.
Before embarking on this of-its-time cockeyed-thriller offended readers might need to first watch the Whoopi Goldberg disclaimer at the beginning of the DVD collection "The Looney Tunes Golden Collection Volume 3" which can be viewed here" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCT1c...
Goldberg’s commentary should be included as a foreword in any future reissues of this stupidly fun, breezy read.
December 22, 2013
This is a classic piece of pulp fiction that was first published in Britain in 1941, but which was deemed much too racy for the U.S. at that time. Accordingly, it was first published here in an sanitized version that glossed over all the parts that were too "adult" for the delicate sensibilities of the American reading public. The opening couple of sentences of the original version might suggest why:
Our intrepid narrator is a man named Karl Craven who's just arrived in a small, out-of-the-way Midwestern town on some mysterious errand. We learn that he's been preceded in town by a partner, or an accomplice; as Craven checks into the hotel, we're not yet sure which. Things get complicated right away, though,when it turns out that the man Craven is to meet has been shot to death. The killer is still at large.
The town is as corrupt as they come in a pulp novel of this sort, from the sheriff on down. But added to the mix is a mysterious religious retreat, know as Solomon's Vineyard, which sits just outside of town. No one is quite sure exactly what goes on behind the closed doors of the Vineyard, but you can bet it's titillating and maybe even dangerous.
Karl Craven is a large man with even larger appetites and he drinks and eats his way through this story at a mind-boggling pace. At one point, he has a four-pound steak for dinner, along with all the trimmings and a half an apple pie for dessert. His sexual appetites are pretty much on the same scale.
It would be unfair to reveal much of anything about the plot, but this is a story with lots of gunplay and other malicious violence. There's tough dames and a fair amount of rough, kinky sex, some grave-robbing and a bizarre religious cult headed by a princess who may be even too much for a man like Craven to handle.
If your a fan of the sort of trashy pulp fiction that was popular at the middle of the last century, you'll probably love this book which is so much over the top that it almost becomes a parody of the genre. Latimer, who would ultimately become a fairly successful Hollywood screenwriter walks you right up to the line but steps back just in time to give you a really fun read.
"From the way her buttocks looked under the black silk dress, I knew she'd be good in bed. The silk was tight and under it the muscles worked slow and easy. I saw weight there, and control, and, brother, those are things I like in a woman."
Our intrepid narrator is a man named Karl Craven who's just arrived in a small, out-of-the-way Midwestern town on some mysterious errand. We learn that he's been preceded in town by a partner, or an accomplice; as Craven checks into the hotel, we're not yet sure which. Things get complicated right away, though,when it turns out that the man Craven is to meet has been shot to death. The killer is still at large.
The town is as corrupt as they come in a pulp novel of this sort, from the sheriff on down. But added to the mix is a mysterious religious retreat, know as Solomon's Vineyard, which sits just outside of town. No one is quite sure exactly what goes on behind the closed doors of the Vineyard, but you can bet it's titillating and maybe even dangerous.
Karl Craven is a large man with even larger appetites and he drinks and eats his way through this story at a mind-boggling pace. At one point, he has a four-pound steak for dinner, along with all the trimmings and a half an apple pie for dessert. His sexual appetites are pretty much on the same scale.
It would be unfair to reveal much of anything about the plot, but this is a story with lots of gunplay and other malicious violence. There's tough dames and a fair amount of rough, kinky sex, some grave-robbing and a bizarre religious cult headed by a princess who may be even too much for a man like Craven to handle.
If your a fan of the sort of trashy pulp fiction that was popular at the middle of the last century, you'll probably love this book which is so much over the top that it almost becomes a parody of the genre. Latimer, who would ultimately become a fairly successful Hollywood screenwriter walks you right up to the line but steps back just in time to give you a really fun read.
January 12, 2016
*3.5 Stars*
I thought it was pretty cool that Craven's true nature was kept vague throughout the story, causing the reader to never fully know where he stood on certain things and never be able to predict what he would do. We know he's supposed to be a detective, but is he disguising himself as one? Is that a lie? Is he a con man? Or maybe he's just the worst private eye in the world and is just using the job to bed down as many ladies as possible? This added an interesting dynamic on top of the craziness. But at the the same time, it was a thin line to walk for a writer because I also felt like I was distanced from him as well. He also sometimes seemed like a real dick in the way he treated women, minorities, or for that matter, every other human being he came in contact with...
I also thought the book was unexpectedly funny because Craven seemed like he didn't really give a damn about solving the case for most of the story. He spends a good amount of the book either napping, eating, taking multiple showers, reading Black Mask magazines, or having rough sex with the cult's princess, who likes to get punched around while in bed instead of getting kissed. I just got a kick out of how laid back he was, as if he thought that the pleasures in life were the priority and everything else would work itself out in the end. And who knows, maybe it will. You'll have to read to find out.
From the way her buttocks looked under the black silk dress, I knew she'd be good in bed. The silk was tight and under it the muscles worked slow and easy. I saw weight there, and control, and, brother, those were things I like in a woman.Yea, from that first line, we know that this book puts the "hard" in hard-boiled. This one might just be the "hardest" of them all. I can see now why it's publication was delayed for FORTY years(!) due to content. It follows private detective Karl Craven, who's hired to travel to a small town to convince a young woman to leave a religious sex cult that has wild orgies every year in the woods, worships a rotting corpse they keep in a temple, and chooses a girl to go marry the corpse and have sex with it. Like Craven says about his story in the prologue: "It's got everything but an abortion and a tornado."
I thought it was pretty cool that Craven's true nature was kept vague throughout the story, causing the reader to never fully know where he stood on certain things and never be able to predict what he would do. We know he's supposed to be a detective, but is he disguising himself as one? Is that a lie? Is he a con man? Or maybe he's just the worst private eye in the world and is just using the job to bed down as many ladies as possible? This added an interesting dynamic on top of the craziness. But at the the same time, it was a thin line to walk for a writer because I also felt like I was distanced from him as well. He also sometimes seemed like a real dick in the way he treated women, minorities, or for that matter, every other human being he came in contact with...
I also thought the book was unexpectedly funny because Craven seemed like he didn't really give a damn about solving the case for most of the story. He spends a good amount of the book either napping, eating, taking multiple showers, reading Black Mask magazines, or having rough sex with the cult's princess, who likes to get punched around while in bed instead of getting kissed. I just got a kick out of how laid back he was, as if he thought that the pleasures in life were the priority and everything else would work itself out in the end. And who knows, maybe it will. You'll have to read to find out.
I took a peek into the grave. Flowers had almost covered the coffin. I thought: there goes $135. It was the first time I'd ever spent that much on a doll without getting something in return.
September 16, 2015
Karl Craven believed there were two ways to approach the private detective business; underground or on top. The way he saw it, ”Underground you had the element of surprise on your side, but it was harder to move around. On top you went everywhere, taking cracks at everybody, and everybody taking cracks at you. You had to be tough to play it that way.” Craven was tough. He could stop a lousy moke’s fists with his face or scuff up a gangsters shoes with his ribs. He liked his men manly, his Negroes servile, and his sex rough. He was a man’s man with big appetites and I’m not just talking about the 4 lb. steaks and six double lamb chops he scarfed down regularly.
In other words, Karl Craven was not the kind of guy folks would describe as warm and fuzzy. Truth be told, he was an asshole.
But sometimes when you are reading hardboiled pulp fiction, warm and fuzzy just doesn’t cut it. You need someone who reminds you of the ripe odor of the locker room at the boxing gym. This is that kind of book. Written in 1941 and banned from publication until 1988, Solomon’s Vineyard has it all, grave-robbing, religious cults, kinky sex, and whorehouse violence. What more could a guy want? An affordable price? How does 99¢ on Kindle sound?
Bottom line: This book is what it is and what it is is entertaining gritty mid-century pulp fiction. Be warned, if my review so far hasn’t tipped you off that this book is far from politically correct, take it from me, this book is far from politically correct. Karl Craven is not someone whose actions I approve of. If you find misogyny, racism and homophobia in a fictional setting intolerable, you may wish to look elsewhere for your reading material.
FYI: On a 5-point scale I assign stars based on my assessment of what the book needs in the way of improvements:
• 5 Stars – Nothing at all. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
• 4 Stars – It could stand for a few tweaks here and there but it’s pretty good as it is.
• 3 Stars – A solid C grade. Some serious rewriting would be needed in order for this book to be considered great or memorable.
• 2 Stars – This book needs a lot of work. A good start would be to change the plot, the character development, the writing style and the ending.
• 1 Star - The only thing that would improve this book is a good bonfire.
In other words, Karl Craven was not the kind of guy folks would describe as warm and fuzzy. Truth be told, he was an asshole.
But sometimes when you are reading hardboiled pulp fiction, warm and fuzzy just doesn’t cut it. You need someone who reminds you of the ripe odor of the locker room at the boxing gym. This is that kind of book. Written in 1941 and banned from publication until 1988, Solomon’s Vineyard has it all, grave-robbing, religious cults, kinky sex, and whorehouse violence. What more could a guy want? An affordable price? How does 99¢ on Kindle sound?
Bottom line: This book is what it is and what it is is entertaining gritty mid-century pulp fiction. Be warned, if my review so far hasn’t tipped you off that this book is far from politically correct, take it from me, this book is far from politically correct. Karl Craven is not someone whose actions I approve of. If you find misogyny, racism and homophobia in a fictional setting intolerable, you may wish to look elsewhere for your reading material.
FYI: On a 5-point scale I assign stars based on my assessment of what the book needs in the way of improvements:
• 5 Stars – Nothing at all. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
• 4 Stars – It could stand for a few tweaks here and there but it’s pretty good as it is.
• 3 Stars – A solid C grade. Some serious rewriting would be needed in order for this book to be considered great or memorable.
• 2 Stars – This book needs a lot of work. A good start would be to change the plot, the character development, the writing style and the ending.
• 1 Star - The only thing that would improve this book is a good bonfire.
June 9, 2023
Heard about this from Sam Wiebe's newsletter, who accurately called it "a pulp classic and a seedy delight." Fairly bleak novel by a former Perry Mason writer. Was censored in the States and bowdlerized in England until the 80s.
As a noir, pretty good. Never been a fan of cult plots though, it lets you get away with unmotivated villainous behaviour just because "oh that's what the cult believes" or whatever. Still, the final cult twist was good. And the gun fight at the restaurant was cool.
Some favourite noir-ish lines:
The 'That's Chappie' moment:
good description:
another good description:
Ice cold at the graveside:
small town life:
As a noir, pretty good. Never been a fan of cult plots though, it lets you get away with unmotivated villainous behaviour just because "oh that's what the cult believes" or whatever. Still, the final cult twist was good. And the gun fight at the restaurant was cool.
Some favourite noir-ish lines:
The 'That's Chappie' moment:
good description:
another good description:
Ice cold at the graveside:
small town life:
August 12, 2019
Written in 1941 but banned from publication in the US until 1988, this is a raucous and raunchy story of hardboiled mayhem. We follow the protagonist, a PI, as he attempts to rescue a young girl from an insidious religious cult, gets tangled up with the local mob, seeks revenge for his murdered partner, and pursues a femme fatale as the dead bodies pile up. By today's standards there's nothing overly outrageous here, but at the time I can see how the raunchy language, S&M scenes and gratuitous violence wouldn't pass muster with a publisher or a mainstream audience. This is classic noir with an extremely hard edge.
March 1, 2010
A quick, fun, gin-soaked ride of a story. In many ways, ahead of its time, especially in its approach to sex and violence (probably why it wasn't in print in the US unedited until 1988). Even though it was written in 1941, it feels much more like a Mickey Spillane era story.
As it states in a kind of mini-prologue (I'm paraphrasing): This is a wild one. It has everything but an abortion and a tornado.
I would be interested in reading THE FIFTH GRAVE, the edited version that was published in the US to compare the differences.
The only reason I'm not giving it five stars is because the story is so secondary to the scenes and atmosphere that by the end, I just wanted more scenes and didn't really care about the story. Rarely do I embrace style, over substance, but this book is so hard-boiled that it's hard to read without a smile on your face.
As it states in a kind of mini-prologue (I'm paraphrasing): This is a wild one. It has everything but an abortion and a tornado.
I would be interested in reading THE FIFTH GRAVE, the edited version that was published in the US to compare the differences.
The only reason I'm not giving it five stars is because the story is so secondary to the scenes and atmosphere that by the end, I just wanted more scenes and didn't really care about the story. Rarely do I embrace style, over substance, but this book is so hard-boiled that it's hard to read without a smile on your face.
February 5, 2010
The most brutal detective novel ever written. A dick gets sent to Heartland USA to find a missing girl hidden in a crazy religious compound protected by vicious racketeers. Our rotund hero is (literally) in bed with the Cult's princess and the gangsta's gun moll, too. Loads of sex and murder, "Solomon's Vineyard" never gets boring. And I didn't even mention the necrophiliac part, either.
August 2, 2011
A private detective is hired to bring a rich man's niece home. But the niece is being held captive by a religious cult with a sinister plan for the girl, and the cult is led by a beautiful blonde. There's also a local mob boss, who has the prettiest girl in town.
This book was written in 1941 but banned from publication in the U.S. until 1988, though I can't figure out why. The "kinky" sex scenes are brief and almost laughable, but no more graphic than any other pulp writing at the time.
The writing can be flat as a pancake for a few paragraphs here and there but Latimer is good at action, with gangland shoot outs and fistfights being plentiful. So are double-crosses and deaths; this detective gets everybody involved in his problems.
My beef is with the publisher, Black Mask. This book takes sloppy editing to new lows. Paragraph structures are often wrong, dialogue is attached to previous dialogue so that the reader has to guess which character is speaking and the spelling mistakes are too numerous to count. For some reason, the word "off" is replaced with "oil" in almost every instance.
However, I really enjoyed the exciting story with all its intrigue and it's a a true example of hardboiled pulp.
This book was written in 1941 but banned from publication in the U.S. until 1988, though I can't figure out why. The "kinky" sex scenes are brief and almost laughable, but no more graphic than any other pulp writing at the time.
The writing can be flat as a pancake for a few paragraphs here and there but Latimer is good at action, with gangland shoot outs and fistfights being plentiful. So are double-crosses and deaths; this detective gets everybody involved in his problems.
My beef is with the publisher, Black Mask. This book takes sloppy editing to new lows. Paragraph structures are often wrong, dialogue is attached to previous dialogue so that the reader has to guess which character is speaking and the spelling mistakes are too numerous to count. For some reason, the word "off" is replaced with "oil" in almost every instance.
However, I really enjoyed the exciting story with all its intrigue and it's a a true example of hardboiled pulp.
March 4, 2015
This book is touted as a forgotten classic, suppressed when it came out in 1941 because of its sexual frankness and general lurid disreputability. By current standards, of course, it's pretty tame, and the only reason to read it is because it flaunts just about every touchstone of the classic hard-boiled PI novel, in spades.
Karl Craven is a St. Louis PI hired to get a millionaire's niece out of the clutches of the weirdo cult she has fallen in with in a smallish town of unspecified location. He likes booze and broads, he carries a gun, and oh yeah, his partner has been mysteriously murdered while investigating the cult. There's a blonde, a redhead, a whore with a heart of gold, an Italian vicelord, a crooked police chief... you get the picture. The weirdo cult gives it a creepy twist (who knew they had weirdo cults luring in rich kids back in the thirties?) but in the end it all comes down to the fat cat bastards who run everything, and the best thing to do is just shoot somebody. Good clean fun.
Karl Craven is a St. Louis PI hired to get a millionaire's niece out of the clutches of the weirdo cult she has fallen in with in a smallish town of unspecified location. He likes booze and broads, he carries a gun, and oh yeah, his partner has been mysteriously murdered while investigating the cult. There's a blonde, a redhead, a whore with a heart of gold, an Italian vicelord, a crooked police chief... you get the picture. The weirdo cult gives it a creepy twist (who knew they had weirdo cults luring in rich kids back in the thirties?) but in the end it all comes down to the fat cat bastards who run everything, and the best thing to do is just shoot somebody. Good clean fun.
August 1, 2018
Solomon’s Vineyard started in a big hole with me because I made up my mind right away that the book’s protagonist was an unlikable creep who said things like, “she’d swing a hip until it looked like it was going out of joint and then she’d throw it back in place with a snap making the buttocks quiver under this dress that was like black skin.” In that passage the narrator/protagonist is describing a woman’s walk that he considers particularly sexy, but, no, gross. That does not sound sexy. Now, I enjoy noirish patter, but Latimer lays it on a bit too thick for my taste. Not everyone can be Raymond Chandler, and I wish Latimer hadn’t tried so hard.
But, so help me, I enjoy a cheesy noir where every character is kind of terrible, where the cops are crooked, the gangsters are cruel, and the women only want to sleep with you so they can double cross you in the next chapter. And this novel has all of that. It also has a fun story weaving together a standard detective story plot (avenging a parter’s murder) with the slightly weird (combatting a murderous religious cult).
In short: this is trash but I sort of liked it anyway.
But, so help me, I enjoy a cheesy noir where every character is kind of terrible, where the cops are crooked, the gangsters are cruel, and the women only want to sleep with you so they can double cross you in the next chapter. And this novel has all of that. It also has a fun story weaving together a standard detective story plot (avenging a parter’s murder) with the slightly weird (combatting a murderous religious cult).
In short: this is trash but I sort of liked it anyway.
September 23, 2015
for plot, etc. feel free to click here. Otherwise, continue.
The very short preface to this novel states the following:
"Listen. This is a wild one. Maybe the wildest yet. It's got everything but an abortion and a tornado. I ain't saying it's true. Neither of us, brother, is asking you to believe it. You can lug it across to the rental library right now and tell the dame you want your goddam nickel back. We don't care. All he done was write it down like I told it, and I don't guarantee nothing."
That little tongue-in-cheek blurb is signed by Karl Craven, the narrator and main character of this novel. His attitude toward women sucks -- he is the poster boy (and quite possibly king) of misogynists everywhere. Ex-football player and now PI, the only thing going for this fictional jerk in my opinion is that he was a fervent reader of Black Mask magazine. His creator was evidently a reader of Dashiell Hammett -- if you've read Hammett's The Dain Curse, you'll notice that there's a beyond-huge similarity between the two books: both take the reader on a wild ride centered around an odd religious cult. Here it is the titular Solomon's Vineyard taking center stage, a "religious colony," where they "raise grapes and hell."
(just an FYI: it looks like Latimer may also have taken notes from Cora in The Postman Always Rings Twice.)
The novel gets pretty out there sometimes, not just in terms of the masochistic sex (very un-noteworthy these days), but also in what's really going on in the town and more importantly, up at the Vineyard. To get through it, you absolutely have to leave whatever amount of PC-ness and modern sensitivities you have at the door. It's not for the faint of heart -- in this book misogyny and racism rule the day. If you're a plot-based crime reader, you'll also notice that this book starts moving into the incredulity zone pretty quickly and just sort of hangs there like an inversion layer until the ending.
Solomon's Vineyard is likely the most hardboiled (and icky) novel I've ever read and I'm hoping, judging from the short preface, that it's meant to be kind of a wisecracking, skewering take of that genre especially since it's pretty obvious that Latimer sort of "borrowed" elements from at least two other books I've read. All in all while I hated the main character, I did enjoy the novel. Once you pick it up, you cannot put it down.
It actually scares me that I just said that.
June 8, 2016
“ FROM THE way her buttocks looked under the black silk dress, I knew she'd be good in bed. The silk was tight and under it the muscles worked slow and easy. I saw weight there, and control, and, brother, those are things I like in a woman. I put down my bags and went after her along the station platform. “
I defy any fan of Hard-Boiled/Noir crime fiction to read the above first paragraph of 'Solomon's Vineyard' & not feel compelled to read on.
Reminiscent of 'The Dain Curse' by Dashiell Hammett, in that both are stories about a shady pseudo-religious cult. The comparison in no way detracts from Latimer's excellent & arguably most Hard-Boiled/Noir novel. No doubt Latimer was influenced by Hammett, but there's a Jim Thompson twist in this tale too. And in fact I preferred 'Solomon's Vineyard' to 'The Dain Curse'.
It's notoriety meant that it was only published in unexpurgated form in the States in 1982, 40 years after its original publication. In this classic noir novel, St Louis private eye Karl Craven, who likes his steak rare, his liquor hard and his women fallen, arrives at the small town of Paulton to protect his wealthy client's daughter from a religious cult. He soon finds himself involved with various unsavory characters, as well as a femme fatale named Princess, and proves more than a match for the worst of them. Private eye Karl Craven is, as they say, a piece of work!
I can't recommend this example of classic noir highly enough. An easy 4 out of 5 stars from me. Nudging 5.
Good reading.
I defy any fan of Hard-Boiled/Noir crime fiction to read the above first paragraph of 'Solomon's Vineyard' & not feel compelled to read on.
Reminiscent of 'The Dain Curse' by Dashiell Hammett, in that both are stories about a shady pseudo-religious cult. The comparison in no way detracts from Latimer's excellent & arguably most Hard-Boiled/Noir novel. No doubt Latimer was influenced by Hammett, but there's a Jim Thompson twist in this tale too. And in fact I preferred 'Solomon's Vineyard' to 'The Dain Curse'.
It's notoriety meant that it was only published in unexpurgated form in the States in 1982, 40 years after its original publication. In this classic noir novel, St Louis private eye Karl Craven, who likes his steak rare, his liquor hard and his women fallen, arrives at the small town of Paulton to protect his wealthy client's daughter from a religious cult. He soon finds himself involved with various unsavory characters, as well as a femme fatale named Princess, and proves more than a match for the worst of them. Private eye Karl Craven is, as they say, a piece of work!
I can't recommend this example of classic noir highly enough. An easy 4 out of 5 stars from me. Nudging 5.
Good reading.
May 26, 2015
Loved this one. Justly deserves its reputation, although the brief passages that had kept it from publication in the US and made it a banned book in the 1940s seem tame even by 1950s standards, so it's hard to see why it wasn't brought back into print earlier. Has a Red Harvest vibe to it, but with a more violent and a more sexual edge. Really loved the way the novel starts because there is no clear sense who the protagonist is or what he is up to and the way that is slowly revealed through the action of the novel creates suspense and tension and that just pulled me in deeper and deeper. Like most hard-boiled protagonists, Craven makes an equal amount of dumb moves that put him in peril and then an equal amount of clever plays to vanquish his antagonists one by one. Latimer does a great job of alternating these moves and that makes this novel a compelling rollercoaster ride as well as a compulsive page turner.
December 9, 2015
Originally published in 1941, Solomon's Vineyard was ban in the US for it's mature content. The book was publish 74 years too early, it easily fits right into today's publishing world.
It's a hard boiled book about PI Karl Craven, who eats large amounts of food, drinks a lot and quite a ladies man. Can only imagine what Craven would say about thongs, braless dames or dames that go commando.
I liked the book, found it tamer, than I thought it would be, and definitely will read more from Jonathan Latimer.
It's a hard boiled book about PI Karl Craven, who eats large amounts of food, drinks a lot and quite a ladies man. Can only imagine what Craven would say about thongs, braless dames or dames that go commando.
I liked the book, found it tamer, than I thought it would be, and definitely will read more from Jonathan Latimer.
January 4, 2021
This was apparently too racy to be published when it was written, presumably because of non-vanilla sex and pretty intense violence (needless to say, it wouldn’t raise any eyebrows today). It’s not anything extraordinary, but it’s a very nasty little pulp if you’re into that kind of thing, which I most certainly am. I think I can officially say that I dig Jonathan Latimer who, based on what I’ve read so far, is more willing than most to let his hard-boiled characters feel fear, a trait which makes him stand out a bit from a pretty crowded field.
February 21, 2014
This is the kind of '40's style noir that is as fun to read as a ride through a Coney Island Scare House from decades ago. It's got everything from whorehouse scenes to grave robbing. And, guess what? A femme fatale named Princess. When the first line of a book reads: "From the way her buttocks looked under the black silk dress, I knew she'd be good in bed", then you know you have the real thing in your hands. All the hard-boiled writers of today owe a tribute to Jonathan Latimer.
October 16, 2015
I'll have a whisky and some steak.....for breakfast and keep the booze coming! And that dame in the corner is a looker too. I don't care that she belongs to a gangster thug who bumps off people.....bring on the action. And the cops...their all crooked too. I know just how to play em. Watch your back
August 3, 2022
1 1/2 stars. I thought this story dragged in a lot of places. I will also admit I was turned off by the way women were portrayed in this book. Yes, it is a pulp detective novel and women are portrayed in a certain way but this had too much of it. It wasn't on par with the classics of the pulp genre.
December 28, 2007
A short and convoluted crime noir brimming with hedonism. Like ANTONY AND CLEOPARTRA, the characters in SOLOMON'S VINEYARD live only for pleasure, and most of them end up dying for it.
December 9, 2010
Hollywood pervsion and noir.
October 17, 2022
No publisher would touch the book in the 1940s but it all seems pretty tame today. A good noirish thriller with all the right elements, written in a plain but effective pulp style. I couldn't quite get a handle on the main character. He admits to being fat and he tells us that he's plenty tough; I was imagining Gerard Depardieu or Ray Winstone in middle age, but a lot of people don't seem particularly impressed by him. One gangster slaps him across the face when they first meet, and even backed up by a couple of gunsels I wouldn't try that on Depardieu or Winstone. He must be as tough as he claims, though, because the amount of meat and alcohol he consumes per chapter will kill most people. I liked the creepy atmosphere of the religious community, the sense of a sweltering small town, and the cast of vivid characters, especially the Princess who uses masochism to completely dominate and intimidate the narrator character.
September 10, 2019
This is a rehash of Red Harvest, except instead of rival gangs, one side is a satanic cult run by an S&M queen. And now I'm wondering if Dan Akroyd and Ben Mankiewicz read this before writing Dragnet.
March 15, 2015
"Ο προφήτης του τρόμου", εκδόσεις Άγκυρα.
Μιλάμε για τον ορισμό του σκληρού παλπ αστυνομικού μυθιστορήματος, γραμμένο στις ΗΠΑ το 1941. Μέχρι το 1988 η αλογόκριτη έκδοση ήταν απαγορευμένη στις ΗΠΑ, λόγω κάποιων άσεμνων σκηνών και αναφορών, εν αντιθέσει με την Αγγλία όπου από το 1941 κυκλοφορούσε η κανονική έκδοση. Περίεργοι οι Αμερικάνοι σε μερικά θέματα, τι να πει κανείς...
Ο κλασικός σκληρός ιδιωτικός ντετέκτιβ της δεκαετίας του '40, στο στιλ του Μάικ Χάμερ και του Σαμ Σπέιντ, στην περίπτωσή μας ο Καρλ Κράβεν, καλείται να βρει την ανιψιά του πλούσιου κυρίου Γκρέισον, την Πηνελόπη, η οποία βρίσκεται στην μικρή πόλη Πόλτον και συγκεκριμένα στον ναό μιας επικίνδυνης αίρεσης, στον ναό του Σολομώντα ή αλλιώς στο "Αμπέλι". Η οικονομική δύναμη του "Αμπελιού" είναι μεγάλη, μιας και ελέγχει τα περισσότερα κέντρα διασκεδάσεως της πόλης, αστυνομικούς, δικαστικούς και ούτω καθεξής.
Ο Καρλ Κράβεν θα πρέπει να βρει ποιος σκότωσε τον συνεργάτη του που έψαχνε και αυτός την μικρή κοπέλα, θα πρέπει να αντιμετωπίσει έναν βαρύμαγκα γκάνγκστερ που φοβάται μην του κλέψουν την γκόμενα και θα μπλεχτεί με μια γυναίκα του "Αμπελιού", την Πριγκίπισσα, η οποία γουστάρει να την μπατσίζουν κατά την διάρκεια του σεξ. Ο χρόνος όμως δεν είναι απεριόριστος, γιατί η Πηνελόπη αναμένεται να θυσιαστεί για χάρη του Σολομώντα, ο οποίος βρίσκεται τα τελευταία πέντε χρόνια, νεκρός, σε μια νεκροφάγο. Η συνέχεια θα είναι εκρηκτική.
Η δράση είναι ακατάπαυστη, οι σκηνές βίας πολλές και σχετικά γραφικές, η γραφή κλασική παλπ γραφή, οι διάλογοι και οι χαρακτήρες το ίδιο, η πλοκή δίχως τρομερές ανατροπές και αποκαλύψεις αλλά σίγουρα σε κρατάει.
Το βιβλίο δεν φτάνει το επίπεδο του Κόκκινου Θερισμού του Χάμετ (μιας και με αυτό συγκρίνεται αρκετά) αλλά σίγουρα προσφέρει διασκέδαση. Εννοείται πως δεν είναι για όλα τα γούστα, αν σας αρέσουν τα σκληρά και παλπ αστυνομικά μυθιστορήματα της δεκαετίας του '40, σίγουρα αυτό δεν θα σας απογοητεύσει. Αν δεν είστε φαν του είδους, μην το διαβάσετε.
Μιλάμε για τον ορισμό του σκληρού παλπ αστυνομικού μυθιστορήματος, γραμμένο στις ΗΠΑ το 1941. Μέχρι το 1988 η αλογόκριτη έκδοση ήταν απαγορευμένη στις ΗΠΑ, λόγω κάποιων άσεμνων σκηνών και αναφορών, εν αντιθέσει με την Αγγλία όπου από το 1941 κυκλοφορούσε η κανονική έκδοση. Περίεργοι οι Αμερικάνοι σε μερικά θέματα, τι να πει κανείς...
Ο κλασικός σκληρός ιδιωτικός ντετέκτιβ της δεκαετίας του '40, στο στιλ του Μάικ Χάμερ και του Σαμ Σπέιντ, στην περίπτωσή μας ο Καρλ Κράβεν, καλείται να βρει την ανιψιά του πλούσιου κυρίου Γκρέισον, την Πηνελόπη, η οποία βρίσκεται στην μικρή πόλη Πόλτον και συγκεκριμένα στον ναό μιας επικίνδυνης αίρεσης, στον ναό του Σολομώντα ή αλλιώς στο "Αμπέλι". Η οικονομική δύναμη του "Αμπελιού" είναι μεγάλη, μιας και ελέγχει τα περισσότερα κέντρα διασκεδάσεως της πόλης, αστυνομικούς, δικαστικούς και ούτω καθεξής.
Ο Καρλ Κράβεν θα πρέπει να βρει ποιος σκότωσε τον συνεργάτη του που έψαχνε και αυτός την μικρή κοπέλα, θα πρέπει να αντιμετωπίσει έναν βαρύμαγκα γκάνγκστερ που φοβάται μην του κλέψουν την γκόμενα και θα μπλεχτεί με μια γυναίκα του "Αμπελιού", την Πριγκίπισσα, η οποία γουστάρει να την μπατσίζουν κατά την διάρκεια του σεξ. Ο χρόνος όμως δεν είναι απεριόριστος, γιατί η Πηνελόπη αναμένεται να θυσιαστεί για χάρη του Σολομώντα, ο οποίος βρίσκεται τα τελευταία πέντε χρόνια, νεκρός, σε μια νεκροφάγο. Η συνέχεια θα είναι εκρηκτική.
Η δράση είναι ακατάπαυστη, οι σκηνές βίας πολλές και σχετικά γραφικές, η γραφή κλασική παλπ γραφή, οι διάλογοι και οι χαρακτήρες το ίδιο, η πλοκή δίχως τρομερές ανατροπές και αποκαλύψεις αλλά σίγουρα σε κρατάει.
Το βιβλίο δεν φτάνει το επίπεδο του Κόκκινου Θερισμού του Χάμετ (μιας και με αυτό συγκρίνεται αρκετά) αλλά σίγουρα προσφέρει διασκέδαση. Εννοείται πως δεν είναι για όλα τα γούστα, αν σας αρέσουν τα σκληρά και παλπ αστυνομικά μυθιστορήματα της δεκαετίας του '40, σίγουρα αυτό δεν θα σας απογοητεύσει. Αν δεν είστε φαν του είδους, μην το διαβάσετε.
April 29, 2016
A darkly humorous spoof of the hard-boiled detective novel. How dark is the humor? I'd compare it to Evelyn Waugh's "The Loved One." Way too dark for the early 1940's censors. As a result, the book was banned in the U.S. for many years. Latimer would have done well to warn his readers, the way Waugh did in a brief foreword: "...this is a nightmare, and in parts, perhaps, somewhat gruesome. The squeamish should return their copies to the library or the bookstore unread."
Karl Craven is a picaresque PI; a big, tough guy with a Gargantuan appetite for red meat, mayhem, booze and bad women who like to play rough, sort of Mike Hammer on steroids. He follows his partner to a small mid-western town; their job is to rescue a rich man's niece from the clutches of a sinister cult. Upon arrival, Kraven finds his partner dead under suspicious circumstances. He soon discovers that the small town is a cesspool of vice: gangsters; crooked cops and politicians; dangerous dames including a quintessential femme fatale. All the usual suspects. Above all, there's Solomon's Vineyard, the cult commune from hell. Latimer even makes a sly, oblique reference to Soviet collectives and Lenin's tomb. But I'll avoid spoilers.
I can recommend this book to those who like caustic, tongue-in-cheek spoofs with liberal doses of kinky sex and violence, although the kinky sex and violence is relatively tame by contemporary standards. Those who don't like this sort of thing have been warned.
Karl Craven is a picaresque PI; a big, tough guy with a Gargantuan appetite for red meat, mayhem, booze and bad women who like to play rough, sort of Mike Hammer on steroids. He follows his partner to a small mid-western town; their job is to rescue a rich man's niece from the clutches of a sinister cult. Upon arrival, Kraven finds his partner dead under suspicious circumstances. He soon discovers that the small town is a cesspool of vice: gangsters; crooked cops and politicians; dangerous dames including a quintessential femme fatale. All the usual suspects. Above all, there's Solomon's Vineyard, the cult commune from hell. Latimer even makes a sly, oblique reference to Soviet collectives and Lenin's tomb. But I'll avoid spoilers.
I can recommend this book to those who like caustic, tongue-in-cheek spoofs with liberal doses of kinky sex and violence, although the kinky sex and violence is relatively tame by contemporary standards. Those who don't like this sort of thing have been warned.
June 4, 2019
This is a strange crime novel. While there are plenty of crimes happening and Craven is pleasantly unsympathetic as a protagonist. He neither mourns for the dead nor cares too much for the living, he careens from predicament to predicament with little fore-planning and hardly any wit.
For instance, after getting the snot kicked out of him for hanging out with the gangster's girl, Craven sets up the only honest bar owner in town for a violent, bar burning standoff. The point, other than driving the honest bar owner out of town, seems to have escaped everyone involved. It was a mean plan, badly executed, and failed to accomplish anything of value.
Meanwhile there is a cult in the hills running the rackets and brewing up some moonshine wine. The purpose of the cult is to establish the reason Craven is in town and give him something to do, but by the time the big sexual deviant reveal is revealed, its beyond the point of coherent plotting.
Such is the case with most of these hardboiled cases. Latimer is interesting for his embrace of the sex cult, sadism, and a mean-spirited nihilism, while hinted at the more well known private dicks, seems to be the overarching point of his novel.
For instance, after getting the snot kicked out of him for hanging out with the gangster's girl, Craven sets up the only honest bar owner in town for a violent, bar burning standoff. The point, other than driving the honest bar owner out of town, seems to have escaped everyone involved. It was a mean plan, badly executed, and failed to accomplish anything of value.
Meanwhile there is a cult in the hills running the rackets and brewing up some moonshine wine. The purpose of the cult is to establish the reason Craven is in town and give him something to do, but by the time the big sexual deviant reveal is revealed, its beyond the point of coherent plotting.
Such is the case with most of these hardboiled cases. Latimer is interesting for his embrace of the sex cult, sadism, and a mean-spirited nihilism, while hinted at the more well known private dicks, seems to be the overarching point of his novel.
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