the resurrection (part one)

 

I was confused earlier this week when Down & Out books updated their Facebook page with an image of festive celebration. My first response was to write and angry comment and ask what the hell they were thinking about, given the bitterness many have felt since the anouncement of their sudden demise a few months ago. I took a deep breath and paused for a while, then wrote a less angry comment, though one of definite disapproval. Later on, when wondering if there had been other replies, I noticed that there was a new post informing us that Down & Out was returning under new management and that exciting times lay ahead. I deleted my initial thoughts and added something more supportive. Down & Out is to be resurrected. 

Hallelujah?

I had so many thoughts that I felt it might be best to share them on the blog rather than let them spin inside my head. So, here goes.

My qualifiers here are that I have a terrible memory, which means exact detail and sequence may not be exact. I'm also pretty lazy, which means checking up on dates and sequences of events is something I'm not going to do. What I lay out below will not be perfect, but the spirit will be accurate. 

As an opening, I was offered the chance of having a couple of my books published with All Due Respect (who, I think at that time were already under the D&O umbrella). Chris Rhatigan was at the ADR helm and he was a real shining star of integrity, talent and enthusiasm. He took on my novella Smoke (which had previously been published by the wonderful Blasted Heath who closed their doors in an exemplary way, looking after authors with respect, kindness and a hint of regret - hats off to Allan Guthrie and Kyle MacRae for that) and my novel In Loco Parentis. The quality of interaction with Chris was high, his editing superb and the covers were top notch (the one for In Loco Parentis by JT Lindroos is still my personal favourite). The books came out and they sold in trickles, as is typical with noir fiction on the whole, and I was very happy.

Some time later, I completed the first book of the Rat Pack series, Let It Snow. It was a deliberate attempt to create something with a wider appeal, being a little more mainstream and rooted in my passion for Ed McBain's 87th Precinct series. I sent it to D&O and was thrilled to have the book accepted (I wasn't sure it had been read, given the quick turnaround, but I had a good reputation and I was already on their books, so it was no major surprise). Even better, or so I thought, there was the offer for the first three books in the series (I'd mentioned the plan in my approach) and I grabbed it with both hands. 

When I passed on the news to a respected and very experienced writer friend, he was less enthusiastic than I'd expected. He was especially doubtful about the three-book deal and suggested I change that right away. I explained that, because I had signed the contracts, I felt honour-bound to stick to my word. he tried to talk me out of it, explaining that it really was no big deal for me to change my mind, but I felt I couldn't change my decision even if I realised I was most likely wrong. 

Let It Snow's beginnings were a bit shaky. The editing process was more complicated than I was used to. The cover was rather generic. Everything took a little more time that I expected and felt a little clunky, but the book eventually came out and there was a reasonable landing. It found a small audience, but not one as wide as I felt it deserved. They did get me an interview, in fairness, which was as far as promotion seemed to go.

Undaunted, I moved on to writing My Funny Valentine. This was stronger than Book 1, was much tighter and delved deeper into the characters and developed their lives really well. This time, I had some issues with the cover. The first suggestions were terrible. So were the next. I was surprised at the difference between the genius of JT and the new ideas. Eventually, I made a few suggestions and when a half-decent cover came out I accepted it. What worried me most was that there was no sense of this being a series. There was no attempt to suggest any continuity in the books and that didn't make sense. 

After each release, I heard back from some trusted readers that there were numerous mistakes in the text (partly my fault, I'm sure) that I'd expected to have been ironed out in the editing process. Lists of errors were long, some translations from the UK to the US were baffling. It was disappointing, but I was grateful for the help of my friends and manuscripts were updated. 

Along the way, there were several updates (six-monthly?) on sales and payments were made as expected. And sales were improving. That was, in the main, because I was lucky enough to get a non-US Bookbub for Let It Snow. I explained to the publisher that I had this arranged and that I needed the price drop to be on time (which it was). I paid for it myself and tried to rally some energy and support from D&O - perhaps they'd work on interviews and blogposts as well as social media support and maybe even take out a few cheaper ads of their own. They suggested nothing. It became clear to me at that point that promotions and sales weren't their forte; in fact, I'd go further and suggest that they had no interest in promotion or sales as far as I could see, which was weird (I thought that was what publishers were meant to focus upon once books were taken on). 

I began watching the sales rankings on other Down & Out releases. They were always woeful. I kept seeing enthusiastic posts about writers who had signed contracts with them and my heart sank every time. Maybe I should have expressed my concerns publicly at that point as a warning to others, but getting a publisher feels like such a big deal that I didn't want to burst bubbles. I also felt some kind of loyalty to the family. Looking back, I wish I'd handled things differently. 

By the time Aint That A Kick In The Head came out, I had all but given up on sales and promotion. Rather than feel like a hub of activity and energy, D&O felt more like collectors of crime titles than anything else. I looked upon them as a graveyard for crime writers (and many amazing writers at that). 

It was about this time that communication pretty much dried up. 

Gone were the regular sales updates and payments, even though I could see that my titles were still occasionally selling. In the end, I became so frustrated that I contacted them and asked for updates. Lance gave me a fairly quick reply (in fairness, he always responded to my questions and was always supportive and polite). I also got some payment at that point, which was about a year ago as far as I can remember, and I was grateful for that. 

And then came the sudden news of their demise. An email to all us authors informing us that D&O was shutting its doors.

My first reaction was one of relief, I kid you not. I had often thought about asking to get the rights back anyway. I'd seen others I respect doing so. I didn't feel any books there got the support they deserved. I was resigned to the Rat Pack novels just sinking into the mulch and disappearing forever. 

And then I reread the email. There would be no payments offered to authors for any sales already made. 

WTF?

They had to be kidding, right? I can't have been understanding them correctly. 

And yet, it was exactly what they meant. 

I didn't feel bad for myself because if they owed me anything, it was probably in the low tens of dollars and that only because I'd chased it up a year before. But the others out there? Some were royally screwed. 

Beau Johnson was the most vocal about the shoddy treatment. He was led to believe that there was a future for more of his books with them and went on heavily promoting his work while the plug was being pulled. In short, it appears that D&O happily allowed Beau to continue making money for them (inlcuding a big order of books made for an event) when they had no intention of honouring payments. Which is appalling. 

There will be others left heavily out of pocket, too. The whole thing is a disgrace. It tarnishes Eric Campbell's reputation. Makes you wonder what he was thinking. I know a lot of folk have said he's a terrific guy. I've never met him, but after this, I'd suggest that he really isn't. There may be extenuating circumstances (mental health, financial etc), so I don't want to go in too heavily just in case, but it feels like theft and fraud to me. It's certainly not the way to go about business and is definitely an insult to friends and colleagues alike.

I suspect things just failed so badly that the only thing to do was to shut the doors. It failed so badly because it had no sense of direction or purpose other than as a collector and, possibly, a badge of honour and status that really was worthless. 

And then there was the inevitable chaos that followed the demise.

From my point of view, Lance did everything. As he wasn't in control, he was (it seemed to me) stuck in the middle. There were mentions of rights being returned, yet it wasn't automatic (there were many authors, so perhaps the delays were inevitable). Eventually, and upon request, the rights of all five of my books came back. I asked for covers (the Rat Pack ones weren't really of interest, but I felt it would be good to have original copies anyway, preferably without the logo) which never appeared. I asked several times (scratched records) for the return of best-copy manuscripts and eventually got them (I never asked for best-copies upon completion of editing earlier on, so this was really important in terms of saving me huge effort when looking for a new direction). I didn't bother asking for money. 

And there was also the period (possibly still ongoing) where books were available for sale even though rights were returned. The distributor may have been slow here, but it's still very unsatisfactory.

On the positive side, JT Lindroos (occasional cover designer for D&O) was steady and professional. He dug out a copy of the ILP cover he designed to send to me and took it further, removing the logo and adjusting the cover to accommodate that change. He also got onto Facebook and offered the covers to any authors if he had them. Just a nice, thoughtful and human thing to do. I also had some kind words of support from some old Facebook friends and all of them were gratefully received. 

The whole thing has been a shambles, so when I saw that festive update, I practically choked on my bile. 

It turns out that there is to be a resurrection of Down & Out. I'm unclear as to what this means for authors who choose to stick around. I emailed the address offered by the new boss/es and had a very prompt response from Joe, which was reassuring. 

I can't know how things have moved from one owner to another. I suspect Joe (and others?) has taken this one without any money changing hands and that it's a genuine attempt to salvage something from the ashes. I really hope this is the case. As far as I can tell, payments due from the previous owners are still not going to be made; in the circumstances, I don't feel Joe should automatically shoulder this and believe this is still on Eric's plate. 

I'll be happy to support a future incarnation of D&O, but not with my books. For authors considering sending submissions, I'd urge the utmost caution. Be patient. Watch for a while Wait and see how this pans out. 

I hope there will be positive outcomes as things change. I'm crossing my fingers, but not holding my breath.

     

One Man's Opinion: THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT by ED McBAIN

 

Well, here's a rare thing. In fact, it's a first for me. An Ed McBain novel that I haven't enjoyed. I say I haven't enjoyed it, but I didn't really give it a chance. Twenty pages in and I'm throwing it onto the place where the Did Not Finish pile would be if there were any other books there. 

I can't explain what it is that stopped me from carrying on. The introduction has Matthew Hope defending a man suspected of murdering his gay brother in the aftermath of a party. 

Attitudes are somewhat outdated, and I can often live with that, but I'm not sure I like Matthew Hope and didn't feel I could be bothered to get to know him. 

Not for me then, unless you pile in and convince me that it's worth making the effort.

One Man's Opinion: LEONARD AND HUNGRY PAUL by RONAN HESSION

 

It's a long while since I did Tai Chi and read the Dao Of Pooh. I was reminded of this when I opened Leonard And Hungry Paul in that it was clear I was in for a change of pace, being used to reading and writing pulse-raising stories in the main. 

Leonard And Hungry Paul is a charming book that continues to gently glow from the first page to the last. 

The pair might well be described as misfits, but the friendship is stronger than most, meaning Leonard has been all but adopted into Hungry Paul's family. They are creatures of habit, enjoying board games and moments of togetherness within a life of routine and security. 

But things change (oddly Things Change is a film that sticks in my memory and is also brought to mind by this novel). Hungry Paul's sister is getting married, Leonard's mum has recently died and he has finally met someone who might consider starting a relationship with him. The ripples of the alterations to life are gentle, yet contain power. The nature of what is to come is uncertain, yet Hungry Paul is unperturbed. He's a Winnie the Pooh type character, centred and wise, carrying within the ability to impact upon the world and those around him with minimal effort, desire or even intention.

The stories within flow like a bubbling stream. Though it has the required tension to create a narrative drive, the pleasure of the read lies elsewhere: in the thoughtful observations, the light touches, warming humour, solid relationships and laugh-out-loud moments. 

Spending time with Leonard, Hungry Paul and the cast of surrounding characters is a real treat. It's a book to be savoured, to share and to keep on the shelves never to be sent on to the charity shop.

I believe it will soon be released as a TV series and I, for one, can't wait to see it. 

     

One Man's Opinion: IN DUBIOUS BATTLE by JOHN STEINBECK

 

In Dubious Battle. What a treat. It's a tale of politics and social commentary, but to my mind it's also a noir cracker. 

In the opening chapter, protagonist Jim Nolan walks away from his life to dedicate himself to the communist party. Right from the off, we know that it's a move that will involve personal sacrifice and hardship, but that barely covers what lies ahead of him. It's also the point when I knew I'd been here before. Perhaps I've read it already. Probably have, which is one of the benefits of having a terrible and fading memory (the second time round can be as refreshing as the first). 

Jim heads off with his mentor, Mac, to the orchards of California. They've got wind that the owners are cutting the price for apples picked and so there's an opportunity to organise protest, after all, if the price for picking apples is accepted, it will be the cotton plantations next.

They arrive in town and head straight for a diner whose owner is sympathetic to their cause. Meals are on the house and soon they'll also be able to use the land of the owner's father to camp out when striking workers will be made homeless once they withdraw their labour.  

It's not easy being Reds. Even though the cause is clearly just and the capitalist bosses are unscrupulous, many of the workers are anti-communist and the pair need to stay in the shadows where possible. They choose the most likely leaders among the migrants and set about organising a democratic structure. 

What comes next is a richly drawn-out story about human nature, conflict, politics and purpose. There's tension and action aplenty. There are the local authorities to battle, the press to suffer, they need to find enough food for the masses, the camp needs a doctor and has to be sanitary, the vigilantes are vicious thugs and the mood of the (mostly) men is as fickle as the wind. 

Steinbeck is clearly a sympathiser to the cause. He's shining a light on something he believes needs attention. All the same, he's astute enough to explore the complexities. Not all of the townsfolk are heartless. Not all of the strikers are beyond reproach. The nature of the mass mentality is unpredictable. Their actions can be frightening and their choices poor. The motives of the party will ignore the needs of the few in order to influence the many and the blinkers required by party members have to be thick. Life is brutal and it's the toughest that will survive; if they don't succeed this time, maybe they'll live on to fight in the next battle.

The novel carries real weight. It feels important and got me thinking, which is always a good thing. 

I finished it yesterday, just after a visit to the excellent Resistance exhibition at the Modern Two Gallery in Edinburgh where the photographs on show capture moments of social and political movements of the past, whether organised by large groups or growing from tiny seeds. At a time when the ugly face of the right is unmasking itself and, for some crazy reason, dominating much of our politics, the images and In Dubious Battle feel important. There should be no place for racist, divisive selfishness in our minds and actions and where it appears, someone needs to stand up and fight back. At some place along the line, that someone will have to be you. You don't need to go as far as Mac and Jim, but you do need to find a way to get your skin in the game.

MOVEMENT OF 24th SEPTEMBER

 

Music by the amazing Barge Calm Delta. Reminds me a little of The Residents. How good is that? Check it out if you don't need your hand held or you don't need all your roads to be straight. 

One Man's Opinion: SAINT OF THE NARROWS STREET by WILLIAM BOYLE

 

I had high expectations of Saint Of The Narrows Street. It has a great author and some fab ingredients. In the end, however, I left it feeling slightly disappointed. 

The opening drips with atmosphere and character, carrying the heavy stamp of Brooklyn. A View From A Bridge came to mind, the claustrophobic apartment that is a family home wonderfully drawn. Inside it, a young mother and her sister mind a child, awaiting the return of the youngster's aggressive and unpredictable father. Said father has a gun and a lover. The kitchen is full of knives. It's never going to end well. 

From the incident framing the opening, the story unfolds with guilt and darkness seeping in and rotting away at the insides of all involved. There's a body to dispose of, there are those keen to find out what happened and there's a child who is disconnected from his foundations. 

Stripping it back to its basics, there's a solid story in there. What held it back for me were the references and stories of the neighbourhood, all surrounding people with interesting names, possibly there to add flavour, but for me detracting from the main drivers. I can't quite put my finger on why, but I gradually lost emotional engagement with those involved, which meant the outcomes had less power than I feel they could/should have been. 

I suspect I'm in the minority on this one as it's been very well received. If you're into lots of life-on-the-streets gangster nostalgia, you'll probably dig it and the opening is worth the entry fee so it might well be worth taking a chance. 

Crime, it is. Crime And Punishment, maybe not.    

 

One Man's Opinion: CAUGHT STEALING

 

I go to the cinema a lot. This year, I've averaged a trip per week. On top of that, I've been to two film festivals, where new blood work with the medium of film producing work that has a very different dynamic than the mainstream. 

Posting here about films isn't something I do. Perhaps that's something I should change. I came close with some of my faves of 2025 (The Companion, The Ballad Of Ellis Island, Sinners) and some of the worst views (The Alto Nights and Marching Powder). Regardless of the direction I take, I came out of Caught Stealing with such a spring in my step that I wanted to give it some space.

It's based on the novel of the same name by Charlie Huston, who was heavily involved in the adaptation. Though I don't want to say too much about the plot, it tells the story of a bartender with a drink problem, Henry 'Hank' Thompson. He's screwed up his life once already, having thrown away a baseball career as a youngster, killing a friend and messing up his knee in a car crash. His life's edgy, but he's hanging in there, helped by his girlfriend and his mates at work. 

When his neighbour, a mohawked English punk rocker, leaves the country to visit his dying father, Hank is kind enough to look after his cat. 

A couple of dodgy geezers show up in search of something important at the punk's flat. Hank can't help them as he has no idea what might be inside and, because he knows nothing, takes a brilliantly violent beating. 

Enter the cops. The lead detective gets involved, letting Hank know that there may be another criminal gang searching for whatever it is that's missing, that both crews are deadly serious and, well, just deadly. 

From here it spirals from one nightmare to another. The action comes thick and fast, the outcomes often being unexpected. There are toe-curling moments and stomach-churning scenes. It's an adrenaline-fueled ride that has a retro feel to it, a noir edge that I'd welcome much more of on our screens. 

I don't remember enjoying the bad guys as much in a film for a very long time. They're dark, vicious and superbly played, with a fantastic capacity for causing pain in original ways. 

Add to this an excellent soundtrack (courtesy of Idles) and you have something very special indeed.

Austin Butler is perfect for the central role. I loved him in The Bikeriders and he's only gone up in my estimation here.

There are some syrupy aspects to the story and you might have to let a couple of issues slide, but you really should get along and give this a try. A+ action, brilliant violence, ace characters, anarchic plot, surprising twists and coherently crazy. What's not to like?