Tag Archives: Stanley Ellin

Fiction, Reviews

‘House of Cards,’ by Stanley Ellin

Leave a comment

Reno Davis, hero of Stanley Ellin’s House of Cards, is an expatriate American in Paris. He was a boxer for a while, and now works as a bouncer at a nightclub. One night he handles a bad situation with considerable tact, and as a result gets offered a kind of dream job. He’s to be a tutor for a young boy, scion of one of France’s most prestigious families. The boy’s father was a war hero. His mother recently got out of a mental hospital, but she’s also stunningly beautiful. The job seems too good to be true, which – of course – it is.

Reno likes the boy, a sensitive child who’s been through a lot and mostly needs a little toughening up. But he soon realizes that almost everything he’s been told about the boy’s family is a lie. Only with time will he learn that there are lies beneath the lies, sinister and dangerous lies that threaten not only the boy and his mother, but Reno himself and even the post-war political status quo.

Robert Mitchum would have been a good choice to play Reno Davis in a movie of House of Cards. Reno’s a good character – most of the other characters didn’t impress me as particularly original. There was plenty of dramatic tension and a fair amount of violence, but I thought the book a little slow and implausible, and it could have been shorter. Also, it showcased the standard assumption that all political danger springs from the right. I was ready for the book to be over long before it actually ended, but I did see it through to the conclusion.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Key to Nicholas Street,’ by Stanley Ellin

Leave a comment

“The fact is that Kate is bigger than anything she owns. It’s a subtle point, but if you strain you’ll begin to get it. She’s bigger than her furs, or her car, or her pretty house on Nicholas Street, or anything else she holds title to. She herself is the big thing. She’s an accepted artist who’s doing good and will do better, and she can say, ‘I’m big, and therefore I have these things,’ not, ‘I have these things, and therefore I’m big.’ It’s only little people without any real meat to them who have to say, ‘Don’t look at me, look at what I own.’”

I’ve enjoyed Stanley Ellin’s novels recently, but I wasn’t really prepared for The Key to Nicholas Street (set in 1951). Dorothy Sayers called Gaudy Night “a love story with detective interruptions,” and Nicholas Street is a sort of domestic drama with detective interruptions. It’s also kind of a Rashomon story, where we observe events from various points of view.

The story is set in a fictional, wealthy neighborhood in one of those communities where professionals commute to New York City. We see it first through the (pretty superficial) eyes of the housemaid, who sees everything in movie and magazine terms. She’s the one who discovers the body of the neighbor – a successful, beautiful commercial artist – at the bottom of the cellar steps in her home.

Then we get the perspective of her employer, an autocratic matron who’s been disappointed by the business failures of the rich man she married. She is a judgmental woman, obsessed with social status. She strongly disapproved of the late neighbor, and makes a plausible murder suspect.

But everybody’s a plausible suspect. There’s the matron’s husband, a man without much character, who’s having an affair. Her daughter, who’s dating a man her mother doesn’t approve of, a man who has been involved with the victim and might have been jealous. Also the son, going through an awkward adolescence.

I thought at one point that this was the kind of book that justifies adultery, but it’s more complicated than that. In the end, we find a surprising hero and a strong affirmation of moral truths.

I have to say I figured out whodunnit, but only for authorial structural reasons, not because I deduced it from the clues.

The Key to Nicholas Street wasn’t exactly my kind of book, but it was pretty good.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Dark Fantastic,’ by Stanley Ellin

Leave a comment

I very much enjoyed Stanley Ellin’s Star Light, Star Bright, which I reviewed the other day. I liked the hero/narrator, John Milano. I compared him to Travis McGee, an easy-going, very masculine, independent-minded detective. The second (and last) book in the John Milano series is The Dark Fantastic. He’s less McGee-esque this time out.

For one thing, the first-person narration is gone. The Dark Fantastic employs two points of view, dividing the time between John Milano and our villain. There’s never any question who the villain is, or what evil he intends. The drama here centers on whether John will figure out the truth and be on hand in time to prevent disaster.

Like Travis McGee, New York investigator John Milano is an untethered male, a boy who never grew up. The difference is that McGee lives that way by choice, taking his retirement in installments because he doesn’t expect to ever grow old. John Milano is merely stuck in adolescence. Unlike the independent McGee, John Milano works for a man he despises, just because the money’s good.

John’s expertise is in the recovery of stolen art, and in The Dark Fantastic his job is to try to locate a couple valuable pre-Impressionist works stolen from a California collection. His suspicions lead him to a shady art gallery in Greenwich Village. Needing an inside source, John approaches Christy Bailey, the beautiful, black receptionist there. She agrees to spy on her boss (this requires a little lying on John’s part), but she wants something in return – an investigation of her own. Her little sister has started spending a lot of money she can’t account for. Christy wants to know what kind of trouble she’s in.

John looks into it, and in the course of his investigation grows increasingly closer to Christie. They come from very different worlds, but the attraction is immediate and powerful.

But all the while, we’re watching the villain planning his atrocity. He’s on a schedule, and time is running out.

I didn’t enjoy The Dark Fantastic as much as Star Light, Star Bright. The story was darker and more gritty this time out, and John Milano seemed to possess less agency. Also, he and Christy spend a lot of time talking about race issues. This book was written in the early 1980s, and – in my opinion – American race narratives don’t age well. What seemed like a reasonable accommodation in the eighties is considered condescending and suspect today. The goalposts are forever moving.

So I don’t think The Dark Fantastic is entirely successful. But it is gripping and moves pretty fast. Cautions for ugly racism and the sexual abuse of a minor.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Star Light, Star Bright,’ by Stanley Ellin

Leave a comment

Private investigator John Milano, hero and narrator of Star Light, Star Bright, works for a large New York agency. When his boss gets a special request from a multi-millionaire for his services in protecting a man at his own estate near Miami, John is less than enthusiastic. Because that multimillionaire is married to Sharon Bauer, gorgeous movie queen. John was involved with Sharon a couple years ago, and she in fact left him for the rich guy. But the money’s so good he can’t refuse.

Down in Florida, he finds himself tasked with protecting a man who calls himself Kalos, leader of a trendy cult (whom John knows from his past as a con man astrologer). Sharon is a member of the cult, as are several other movie people who are resident at the estate. Typewritten threats to Kalos’s life have been showing up – reinforced by the killing of the family dog. It’s John’s job, not only to protect Kalos, but to figure out who has a motive for killing him. Also to fend off the advances of Sharon, who’s suddenly interested in him again, while trying to get close to her husband’s secretary, who’s standoffish.

I quite enjoyed Star Light, Star Bright. John Milano is a strong, masculine hero, somewhat in the Travis McGee category, though less laid back. The characters were vivid, and the puzzle genuinely puzzling – blindsided me completely. There are a couple sequel books, and I plan to read them.

Recommended.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Winter After This Summer,’ by Stanley Ellin

Leave a comment

I’ve become fond of the mid-20th Century mystery writer Stanley Ellin. I already recognized that he was an essentially good writer, not just a clever creator of smart mysteries. Still, I wasn’t prepared for what I found in his novel The Winter After This Summer, which qualifies as a mystery, I guess, but is more of a literary novel.

We first meet our hero, Dan Egan, as he is being expelled from his college. The fraternity house where he lived burned down the previous night, killing his best friend and roommate, the football hero Ben Genarro. Everyone blames Dan for failing to save Ben – and Dan himself is not entirely sure what happened.

Dan is the child of a somewhat tense marriage alliance between new money and old money, uniting two wealthy families in awkward coexistence. Refusing relatives’ offers of easy jobs, Dan instead goes to work in a shipyard, learning the mysteries of that dying craft. He tells us about his life, especially his disappointed love for Mia, Ben Genarro’s sister, who rejected him to marry into the American elite.

We also meet Barbara Jean Avery, a stunningly beautiful young woman who has escaped poverty in the Florida Keys, dreaming of James Dean and Hollywood. Mentally, she is an entirely ordinary girl, but Dan seizes on her beauty, dreaming of making her into a better version of Mia. Unfortunately, Barbara Jean has a husband, who is older and a religious madman. Their inevitable collision will bring the story to its climax

The Winter After This Summer qualifies technically as a mystery, I suppose, because it begins with an unexplained death – but that death is never actually explained. It’s more about Dan struggling with his personal background and trying to find his authentic self. The book could almost be described as Christian (Ellin in fact converted to Quakerism later in life), though the best Christian character in the book has fairly iffy theology. Readers should be cautioned about rough, realistic language and fairly frank sexual scenes.

I think my final take on The Winter After This Summer is that it’s one of those works that’s too smart for me. In the end, I wasn’t quite sure what I was supposed to take away from it. But it was a rewarding reading experience.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Bind,’ by Stanley Ellin

Leave a comment

I’m still trying to get a handle on mystery writer Stanley Ellin. And I must admit that his 1970 novel The Bind kind of blindsided me. It’s unlike the previous Ellin books I’ve read, less reflective – this one is genuine hardboiled, in the old tradition. The way they wrote before Political Correctness.

Jake Dekker is a freelance insurance investigator, the kind who works with the companies to identify fraud, and keeps half of the payout value if he can prove it. He flies into Miami Beach with Ellie, a sexy young actress recruited at the last minute to pose as his wife. They move into a beachfront home next to Mrs. Thoren, wife of the deceased. Mr. Thoren died in an auto crash, but the insurance people suspect he committed suicide, which would invalidate the claim.

Getting to know the Thorens and their neighbors, Jake grows increasingly suspicious that the dead man had a secret, and was being blackmailed. If he can uncover the guilty secret, he may have leverage to pressure the widow to fess up.

Meanwhile, Ellie is falling in love with Jake, and he’s not immune to her charms. But that will make both of them more vulnerable when pressure is applied from an unexpected quarter.

The Bind was closer to a Mickey Spillane novel than I looked for in a Stanley Ellin story. Jake Dekker is a very hard case, a business-first guy who can be really brutal when it’s called for. Sensitivity is not in his toolbox. His relationship with Ellie is completely pre-feminist – there’s no question here who wears the pants, or who needs protecting. Reading it after all these years, I found that element a little shocking, but… let’s say, I didn’t hate it.

There was more sex than violence in this story, just the opposite of the way a mystery adventure would be done nowadays. And as for the conclusion – well, I think I can say that it’s not a good idea to look for happy endings in an Ellin book.

By the way, The Bind was filmed, after a fashion, in 1979, under the title of “Sunburn,” as a vehicle for Farrah Fawcett, fresh off her breakout role on “Charlie’s Angels.” Charles Grodin played Jake. The studio made the decision to turn it into an adventure comedy (which the book most definitely is not), and it flopped badly. Even Art Carney in a supporting role couldn’t save it. (I saw it myself, and was perfectly satisfied to watch Farrah under any circumstances).

I wouldn’t say I loved The Bind. It’s too much in the Mike Hammer mold for my taste. But it was well done after its kind.

Fiction, Reviews

‘Very Old Money,’ by Stanley Ellin

Leave a comment

So, thought Mike, if a tree crashes down in Durie Forest with only servants in earshot, does it make any sound? No, it does not.

Working my way through the works of Stanley Ellin, my new enthusiasm, I come to Very Old Money, a rather odd book that’s kind of an Upstairs, Downstairs comedy (or tragedy) of manners, though a murder is involved.

Mike and Amy Lloyd are our main characters; Amy is actually the center of the story. When they lose their jobs teaching at a posh private school, a friend refers them to a placement service that recruits servants for the very rich. The job Mike and Amy get is a strange and challenging one – they are to work for the Durie family, who are “very old money.” The Duries’ wealth goes back to colonial times. To the Duries, the Vanderbilts and Rockefellers are nouveau riche. The Duries do nothing ostentatious. They live in a vast mansion off Fifth Avenue, but they keep out of sight and out of the newspapers.

Mike is to be their chauffeur. Amy is to serve as assistant to the chief housekeeper, and also as a companion to Miss Margaret, the family’s honorary matriarch, who went blind during her youth, when she was a famous beauty and an aspiring painter. Miss Margaret lived in bitter retirement until just recently, when she suddenly took new interest in life. She asked that a companion be hired for her, specifying that the woman must be very tall – which Amy, conveniently, is.

They soon find themselves embroiled in intramural intrigue. The housekeeper instructs Amy to report to her everything Miss Margaret does, while Miss Margaret insists that she tell no one about her secret visits to a hotel, and the cash she regularly withdraws from her bank account. This places Mike and Amy in an increasingly untenable position, but that’s nothing to what’s going to happen when Miss Margaret brings her plans to a conclusion.

Very Old Money is an unusual crime novel, but I enjoyed it quite a lot. Ellin’s writing and characters are consistently superior. I was particularly impressed by the fact that I was sure I knew where the plot was headed, and was completely wrong (as well as somewhat shocked).

Not a book you’re likely to fall in love with, but well worth reading.

Fiction, Reviews

‘The Eighth Circle,’ by Stanley Ellin

Leave a comment

“Perish the thought,” Ruth said. The tapping of her high heels made a quick obligato to his footsteps as they moved off down the street, and he observed, she walked careful inches apart from him. “Perish radar. Perish everything that does away with witches and warlocks and wonders. Step on a crack, break your mother’s back,” she singsonged cheerfully, picking her way across a stretch of broken pavement, and then let out a small yelp. “Oh, poor mother! But that wasn’t my fault, was it? There are more cracks than pavement here.”

I have an idea I may have read this book already, many years ago, because one scene in it had stuck in my mind over time – though it’s possible someone else could have written a similar scene in another book. But the name of the author, Stanley Ellin, seemed familiar to me. So I bought The Eighth Circle. And I’m very glad I did. I have a new author for my short shelf of favorites.

The hero of The Eighth Circle (published 1958) is Murray Kirk, proprietor of a high-end New York detective agency. Their approach is pure business – no toughs, no guns, no rough stuff. Just the discreet gathering of sordid information. Murray is a cynic; he’s seen enough private dirt to be convinced that everybody’s corrupt. There is no idealism left in Murray Kirk.

So when a lawyer friend approaches him with a case involving a policeman accused of corruption, Murray isn’t interested at first. Until he catches sight of the lawyer’s beautiful sister, who’s engaged to the accused cop. Murray is suddenly head over heels in love, and he has a plan – take the job, but undercut the case. Prove the cop’s guilt. Then the girl will throw him over, and Murray will be there to comfort her.

But in the event, worldly, disillusioned Murray Kirk has a few things to learn about life and the human heart after all.

The Eighth Circle (the reference is to the eighth circle of Hell, where liars, flatterers, and grifters find their doom) is not only an interesting mystery story, but a very fine novel in its own right. The prose resonates, the characters are complex, and the dialogue sparkles. The ending even surprised me. Reading this book was an unalloyed pleasure, and I recommend it to one and all.

I’m embarrassed I wasn’t better aware of Stanley Ellin – particularly if (as is likely) I’d read this book before. He’s highly regarded by critics, and I’ll be reading more of him.