The Olympian Affair is the second book in Butcher’s other ongoing series, The Cinder Spires, and it is greatly to be anticipated (if not quite to the extent as Twelve Months / the Next Dresden Files Book).
Applying a standardized conversion factor to JB’s estimation, I’m going to hazard that Twelve Months might be done by the end of this year and then published some time the year after that.
Mouse narrates a short story in Instinct: an Animal Rescuer’s Anthology, which has a cover I cannot link to because Amazon dot com sucks and so do all search engines currently. Bring on the AI chatbot disinformation hordes, at least life will be more interesting then. [WORDPRESS WHAT THE HELL SERIOUSLY WHY CAN I NOT EVEN INSERT IMAGES VIA URL ANYMORE? I hope Elon buys this site and sends you all to the coal mines.]
Proceeds from the book sales go to a Colorado-based animal shelter charity. Which I guess is a good thing. If you want to support a local rescue, direct donations of (non-expired) foodstuffs, toys, blankets, towels, or tools, are always useful. Volunteering is also always useful but the downside is you get exposed to animal shelter people.
And I’m out.
TLDR: ….here’s the thing: books rate differently depending on what genre they are—and I can’t decide what genre this book is.
If it’s a romance, it’s a solid 5/5: it has a romance in the A-plot, but it also has an actual A-plot that doesn’t completely fall apart once the main pair start sleeping together.
If it’s a standard pseudo-medieval fantasy, it’s a 3/5: it has warlords who seem genuinely dangerous and leaders who lay plans and think ahead, act like leaders rather than 20th-century office workers.
If it’s a post-apocalyptic fantasy thriller, it’s a 2/5…because, damnit, that’s the setting, and therefore that’s the genre by default, right? But it kept slipping into stupid romance-novel cliches, or dumb fantasy cliches, or dumb Hollywood cliches, and insulting its own intelligence in the process.
Pros/Cons: My likes and problems with this book are the same as with the Kate Daniels series: it’s at its best when it focuses on the worldbuilding and characterization….and yet it resolutely doesn’t play to its strengths and eventually just gives up and coasts on a smooth lane of cliche.
Plot: Hugh d’Ambray, after failing once too many times at doing whatever he was supposed to do to Kate in the previous series (still not sure about that, and, it seems, so is Hugh), was placed on administrative leave by his ex-boss Roland (an evil demigod.) Hugh proceeds to get very drunk. Ex-boss has also decided to thin out those among his men who might be more personally loyal to Hugh than to him. These eventually get back with Hugh and demand he do something about it. So: Hugh has a small army, but no home base, no supplies, allies, or resources. Elara, leader of The Departed (no, they don’t explain it either), has a castle, farmlands, and four thousand people to protect….but somehow doesn’t have anyone to do the protecting. She and Hugh contract a marriage alliance. They also immediately fall in hate with each other (rather strangely, because there doesn’t seem to be any real reason for it….other than The Romance Plot Requires It), and spend the rest of the book bickering until they finally fall into bed.
Why does The Bailey of The Departed need protecting? Because Roland’s new warlord, Landon Nez, is expanding his territory throughout the Midwest, and small magical communities like Elara’s are his direct targets. So Hugh must fortify Bailey (his battle for use of the bulldozers is one of the most relatable…*wince*…parts) and prepare for the coming fight. Meanwhile, there’s also supernatural weirdos in strange armor systematically attacking and slaughtering the nearby settlements…who also happen to be anti-magic bigots who won’t accept the help of Them Thar Dad-gum Magical Folk, You Can’t Trust ‘Em None (Throw Some Rocks, That’ll Learn ‘Em To Stay Away.) I’m being entierly serious.
So, worldbuilding: I really liked these bits. Like, how do you dig a seventy-five by ten foot moat and make it waterfast? Well, bulldozers, and then line it with concrete. But where are you going to get the volcanic ash for the Roman concrete? And who’s paying for the fuel? And your precious moat is lower priority than our sewer system, and the concrete isn’t setting right so did you waste our money? And what, oh, you want generators now? You’re pulling people off the maintenance crew now? Where are we going to get the fuel for the generators and what if we need those men for the gardens? Yep. YYYYYUP. (I recounted this part to one of the maintenance leads at my first job. He wanted to know what the book was and why the author was mocking him.)
But then for the main conflict they use the laziest device ever: the keystone army that dissolves when you kill the queen. The authors needed a Danger to provide exciting action sequences, but needed it not to be too difficult, since the heroes have limited options and resources. Instead of spending some brainpower to come up with a suitable threat–say, roving band of warlocks from Canada; or a nearby settlement that decides Bailey is now a threat and wants to cripple them preemptively; or The Pack, or the IRS, or something–we get mind-controlled Neanderthals, from nowhere, without context, any kind of buildup or backstory, nothing. BORING. BOOOOOORING. Oh, and can you guess that once you take down the queen the rest of the threat stops in its tracks? SUUUUUPER BORING. Ugh.
Characters: I have better things to say about the characters. All two and a half of them.
Hugh has to play a double role of warlord and romantic hero; but here’s the thing. A warlord isn’t going to be a hard bastard all the time; he has to have charisma, he has to demonstrate intelligence, and he has to be able to sweet-talk or reassure the people he can’t intimidate. I’d actually say that they hit the mark with this: Hugh’s code-switching is done perfectly, and you get a man whom men will trust immediately. Also dogs and kids. (Although the little girl was a bit of an overkill). And, given his powerset–he’s an immensely strong healer, as well as a master swordsman–he’s fun to watch in a fight…theoretically. There aren’t really as many good fight scenes as there ought to be. (Post apocalypse? Fights. Thriller? Fights. Romance novel? No fights.) As far as his character arc, it’s nothing new; we know he’s going to snap out of his drunken funk just as surely as we know he’s going to shape up into the man our heroine can sleep with; and we know he’s going to protect the Bailey and not back down. This isn’t a problem. Tropes are tools, and as long as they are used right–as they are here–it’s satisfying to read.
Elara Harper is also a pretty good heroine: a thoughtful, cunning leader who values life despite the rumor that her people engage in human sacrifice and that she’s the host of some kind of eldritch abomination from the elder days that not even Roland wants to cross…and even with this, she’s hampered by, again, the romance-genre tropes. Instant dislike to her new husband? Check. (I even re-read the scene again. There really is no reason for them both to start breaking out the insults while in the middle of negotiating for their people’s lives). “Fiery” personality that engages in charged bickering with her significant other? Check. Goes to extra lengths to keep him off because she’s really attracted? Check. Actually very soft-hearted and caring underneath? Check. Is any of this a problem? No; tropes are tools. These are just a little more obvious than they should be, and I noticed them a little easier.
Minor characters, such as boisterous, blunt berserker-bro Bale (I wonder if that is exactly what the author’s notes say about him) and the deaf-mute advisor girl who communicates in sign language (because she’s a banshee), remain minor but shouldn’t have. This is where the romance-genre tropes work against the book, by focusing things too much on the main duo rather than letting others get time in the limelight.
Action: is OK. My current gold standard for action writing is Larry Correia’s stuff. Hugh being someone who can heal himself or even his opponent as he fights is something that might come in handy for writing a really brutal fight scene….yeah, no. Well, again; if we call this a romance novel and not a post-apocalyptic thriller, then this isn’t a problem. (WHAT GENRE IS THIS BOOK?! It’s so good when it’s not a romance!)
The other problem is the use of that the really stupid Hollywood cliche “only the hero can do anything heroic on-camera.” It’s a cliche that shouldn’t be here, just by the book’s own logic.–there’s quite a bit of setup of how Hugh’s Iron Dogs work, are disciplined and competent…and should be able to do things like send out patrols and investigate suspicious happenings and report back to their boss, who is having dinner with some bigwigs and should have no reason whatsoever to be wandering around outside, getting in a fight with random monster scouts.
I will favorably mention one scene I thought particularly good: it’s simple, no frills, no magic, nothing fancy…just a child, a monster, a woman, and a shotgun, in a room.
Humor: is used deftly. “You’re handsome, a big, imposing figure of a man, and um…” Lamar scrounged for some words. “And they’re desperate.” Even the slap-slap-kiss romantic bickering is more amusing than annoying. Oh, and the post-apocalyptic wedding having an official DJ, photographer, and videographer? Pretty good. Preparing to host a self-proclaimed Viking with “one of those big barrels filled with beer, trust me, it works every time?” Hilarious. Like I said, the worldbuilding is one of the strengths of this book, and that includes throwing in funny, as well as verisimilitudinous, details whenever you can. If only the authors had done it more.
In conclusion: I liked this book enough to read it in one sitting, write 1500-odd words about it, and, four years later, have not read the next one and never will unless someone pays me.
Rated: What genre is it?! Really!
See the cover? That’s a dog. This is a great story, hands-down, QED. Any book that has a dog in a prominent role is automatically a winner. This is a rule that crosses genres: any scifi, mystery, fantasy, or western story that has a dog, jumps at least three points. (Westerns that also highlight the importance, not to mention the personalities, of the horses involved, gain five points. Science fiction tends to be more about cats, but that’s hearkening back to the “space-navy” side of the equation, rather than the “pulp Westerns IN SPACE” genre foundations.)
Needless to say, Vulcan the Great Dane is basically the co-hero of this novel, and it’s a story that is perfectly pleasing in almost every way. (It helps that this story follows #202, Prince of Evil, written by Theodore Tinsley and squarely in the with the salaciousness cranked up until the knob falls off but the intelligence turned to “Is this thing on?” A fine read, to be sure, but definitely a lesser effort.)
It’s one of those stories that showcase Walter B. Gibson’s adroitness for keeping The Shadow’s adventures fresh and interesting by varying the setting, genre, and supporting characters’ roles. In this case, rather than New York City, the little town of Northdale is the backdrop and the setting is a lonely estate mansion (Seven Oaks) on whom troubles already hang and disaster portends. The genre is, well, it’s still pulp noir but with added dollops of gothic melodrama; and there is a madwoman, her nearly-equally disturbed husband, their quasi-telepathic twins, a mysterious stranger, a weirdly chipper young doctor–and as mentioned, the main secondary hero (and, frankly, the most successful impromptu agent The Shadow has ever employed) is a dog.
So. It’s a dark and stormy night, (because of course it is) and a man with the initials C. T. is waylaid and robbed at the very gates of Seven Oaks. He’s Carl Thayer and he’s saved by the intervention of The Shadow–who has been trailing Clint Flenn’s mob for a while–and makes it to the house, there to receive sympathetic and medical treatment, mostly at the hands of Janice Melridge. Janice and Bob are the twenty year old twins who have apparently little to do but wait to come of age and worry over their mother’s condition, and when your mother spends most of her time talking about voices and banshees, and your father is getting frustrated to the point of choking her out, who wouldn’t be? So the middle-aged but still handsome Carl Thayer finds a warm welcome and proceeds to make the most of it.
Clint Flenn, meanwhile, finding the spoils from the opening brigandage rather measly, decides on kidnapping the Melridge moll for ransom as the next move. The Shadow himself is listening in on this conference, however, and and so begins a cat-and-mouse game that progresses through the halls of Seven Oaks, the streets of Northdale, and the cavern-fractured countryside beyond. To summarize events would be to spoil, and this is actually one of those stories that, even knowing Gibson’s penchant for twists and reversals, kept me guessing until the end.
There are no other agents in this particular story, which is fine, because once Vulcan gets recruited by The Shadow, he does a lot of heavy lifting, including one nick-of-time rescue during a three-way battle involving a box of incriminating evidence and a safe full of payroll deposits, that leaves Bob Melridge, his rescuee, completely baffled, heh.
We all have witnessed how terrifying The Shadow is to malefactors, evil-doers, thugs, and malcontents; the flip side of this is that he is a calming, reassuring, instantly trustworthy presence to the innocent, even if they’re the kind of innocent who don’t look it, having been thrust into a frame and are panicking and lashing out. Dogs, naturally, are no exception. Previous stories has seen The Shadow square off against hostile guard dogs, and either hiss or glare them into submission. Vulcan gets the hiss treatment and promptly begins play-fighting with The Shadow’s cloak sleeve, but we are also reminded that he’s a dog on whose judgment the family relies to begin with. And with good reason. (Vulcan also has had some police/guard training, which is what makes him a useful ally in the first place.)
Now, Gibson avoids the trap of making Vulcan too intelligent by letting him be governed by The Shadow, and The Shadow’s superb competence. It’s by making him the only agent to actually follow orders successfully, that allows him to be the hugely effective good boy he is. Harry Vincent is really lucky Vulcan didn’t decide to follow The Shadow home at the end.
The other characters are interesting as well, given the gothic melodrama / gangster noir genre blend of the book, briefly but adroitly handled by Gibson. Clint Flenn, the gang leader, is actually an interestingly authoritative figure, with an alluded-to history of success, successful alibis, and a proven record of cool-headedness, daring, and marksmanship. Mind you, if he’d been slightly less cool when that rat Trigg Unger started squealing that he’d cornered The Shadow down in the basement, he could have been on to something, but, well.
In some ways this is a throwback story: The Shadow spends much of his time hidden, in Shadow garb, only revealing himself at the very end of the novel; and the Lamont Cranston identity is used sparingly. There are multiple gunfights which end with a satisfying number of bodies–and there’s even an interestingly gruesome moment where The Shadow, providing cover for another escape, crashes his car into a barricade hiding entrenched crooks, sending bodies flying (and earning another concussion, but never mind.) He also pistol-whips a couple of crooks with his .45. If it’s the same style as the gun he used in Spoils of The Shadow, which has a hair-trigger and no safety catch, is it really safe to be using the butt end of the gun to slug people with, though? One wonders. Usually he just bashes people with the muzzle, but there’s an explicit mention of knocking out a sentry with the butt of the gun. Oh well.
There’s a lot more to say about this novel, in some ways, but in others, not really. It’s got gunfights, car chases, a really good boyo, haunted houses, madwomen, psychic twins, gangsters, double-crosses, inheritances, mysterious paintings overlooking events with a somber eye, alibis, taking the heat for your loved ones, and highway robbery. It’s got The Shadow protecting innocents, terrorizing crooks, and solving crimes with a discerning eye and strategic hand that proves why he is and always will be the master foe of evil.
Rated: I heard The Shadow’s ha-ha and I scrammed, boss.
An unexpected haul led me to begin my physical collection of The Shadow novels with Hidden Death, first published in 1932 and then reprinted in 1970, if you couldn’t tell by the swoopy block print.
As indicated, this is a very early Shadow story, and it has some iconic sequences, not to mention the very first appearance of the brisk, brusque, bull-headed Commissioner Ralph Weston and Commissioner Weston’s unique weakness for the theories of “crime experts.” There’s a mad scientist, murders on schedule, and what might be the first instance of gangdom waging all-out war against their greatest foe, united despite their standing feuds by the sinister rallying cry, “Death to The Shadow!”
So, great stuff, obviously.
As mentioned, this book begins with the introduction of Commissioner Weston, first seen grilling Joe Cardona on his seeming overreliance on hard evidence over theory to solve crimes….when in fact he, Cardona, relies heavily on the outlandish theory of a man in black appearing to give aid when needed and vanishing mysteriously afterwards! Why, it’s absurd! Weston demands that Cardona henceforth accept theories only from established experts, such as the his friend the eminent Professor Fredericks (and also stop following his own theories aka Joe’s celebrated “hunches.”) Anyhow, such is the state of affairs when Cardona produces a letter announcing the death of “S.H.”–“HE WAS THE FIRST.”
S. H. is soon discovered to be Silas Harshaw, an eccentric inventor who was having money troubles, somewhat related to his inability to surrender details of his plans to investors, but also partially related to being an eccentric crank. The fact that he was found shot to death inside a locked room on the tenth floor is negated by the presence of a large window, reachable by ladder from the lower floors. Cardona’s theories (and Professor Fredericks’) center on a burglary motive, possibly featuring Harshaw’s recently-discharged servant.
Except that the next intruder is found lying dead in the exact same spot, and detectives on guard report the escape of a dark-clad figure that went through their ranks like a hurricane. And then, forty-eight hours after the first death was discovered, another letter arrives, announcing the death of another set of initials: “HE WAS THE SECOND.” The corresponding death is soon discovered. And so it continues.
Poor Cardona is left with not a lot of facts and much theorizing to do. Who is posting the letters from the hotel when every postbox from the tenth floor down is being watched? Who is arranging these fiendish deaths? What could possibly be their connection? With even the Professorial expert stymied, it seems as though the police are powerless to find and stop these hidden deaths! Someone is on track to figure it all out, though….guess who.
The early Shadow spent a lot of time mixing it with street-level crime and this is no exception, albeit that the gangster angle is wrapped up in the middle of the novel and so eliminates an angle of mystery. Still, there is an incredible sequence where the crooks make a bold and simple plan: to lure The Shadow into their hideout, a basement with one door off a blind alley with none…after first tipping off every gat-wielder and smoke-wagon toter in town to be there, waiting. Harry Vincent unwittingly sends his chief into a trap but is too late to warn him away! (Because, duh, Harry Vincent.) Danger lurks in every street corner and doorway! Death to The Shadow!
Except that, in an all-things-awesome reversal, The Shadow–simply by way of being cautious, stealthy, and the utterly fearless master of darkness–discovers the cordon, bypasses it without being spotted, and commences to shoot it out with not only the crooks he needs to question, but the entire army of the underworld as well when it comes barging in. And escapes (almost) unscathed with the information he wanted. Because he’s just. that. awesome. Any future movie adaptation is going to have to pick and choose between what elements from what books it wants to to adapt, as 1990s movie obviously did between the four Shiwan Khan stories. For my money, any adaptation worth its salt is going to need to include this scene. (I would also want the opening interview from Spoils of The Shadow.)
Obviously a lot of what The Shadow can do is informed by Walter B. Gibson’s background as a stage magician, and this is one of the stellar examples. The Shadow has a full bag of tricks to distract and mislead, including one that involves propping up his cloak and hat with extensible rods while crouching beneath them that would frankly be kind of terrifying if witnessed in real life. This being an earlier Shadow novel, he uses quite a few guises, and doesn’t solely rely on the Lamont Cranston identity, which is only used briefly. He remains an almost-unseen figure even to the forces of good that he aids (Commissioner Weston in particular remains stubbornly unconvinced as to his existence, even after having been held at gunpoint in this book by The Shadow. It’s to save his life, never mind.)
That being said, the Shadow also never shies away from boasting of his prowess and presence….and he always laughs last. The Black Falcon ends with the (dead) Falcon left hooded and jessed for the police to find just as a final F-U from The Shadow, who has to pause whilst making his escape in order to set it up. The Plot Master ends with the jet black king chessman standing supreme and alone over the cityscape chessboard, all other pieces fallen. Hidden Death, with its gloating letters celebrating the murders of innocent men, finds the fifth and final letter headed by a declaration in brilliant blue ink that vanishes before it can be read again: Annulled. By the Shadow.
Which also allows me to wrap up this review simply.
Rated: Approved. By Riders.
The earlier Shadow is much more a powerful figure of mystery and grandeur, not revealing his true face even to the audience, defeating his opponents coolly, rescuing innocents with swift and awesome competence. Yeah, that means mostly rescuing mostly Harry Vincent, but still…
Story-wise, with The Shadow still a relatively new figure in the underworld, underworld players have not quite yet figured out the correct or necessary countermeasures, i.e., overwhelming firepower, manpower, and muzzlepower. And–this may be an unintentionally brilliant writing strategy, too–the earlier years of The Shadow’s anti-crime reign of terror feature a lot more small-time evil masterminds than the later ones…possibly because The Shadow weeding out the smaller ones left room for the big guys to expand into. Doctor Moquino mentally enslaves wealthy socialites and manipulates them into voluntarily parting with their entire wealth. The Death Giver wants….one. million. dollars., and is none too organized about getting it.
So! Death has struck twice on a commuter train: random people, same place, same time, no suspects, and no detectible cause of death save for traces of poisons and traces of burns somehow occurring unobserved on a crowded morning train. The police are baffled. Commissioner Weston is no less baffled than Detective Joe Cardona, but his higher rank means that at least he has someone else to shove in front of the firing squad of public opinion when, as they inevitably do, the deaths keep coming.
Meanwhile we are introduced to a random millionaire businessman, who has been receiving mysterious notes on postcard. Deciphered, they are a death threat and a warning not to call the police. Except that he does, whereupon his crooked butler toggles a switch that makes his own telephone electrocute him. So now he’s dead and there’s no way to get one. million. dollars. out of him. (The Death Giver, as I have mentioned in previous reviews, is kind of unhinged and frankly also pathetic.) –especially as now The Shadow has sniffed out a new threat, and is on the trail. Except that the crooked butler, mad with terror both of the far-reaching grasp of his true master and the black-cloaked shape looming like Death itself actually in the room right now, snatches madly for what he thinks is a weapon given him by said master….and is promptly killed by it. Leaving no forward trail for The Shadow.
Whilst this thread has been unravelling, the Death Giver’s actually trusted lieutenant has scoped out another potential millionaire victim for the scheme of terror, threats, and eventual death. The Death Giver gives only one reward–whether they succeed or not.
And so it goes.
(Another trick of the early books is that sometimes The Shadow never appears “on camera” at all.–later on, Gibson abandoned the idea, but he at first hinted that The Shadow’s true face was horribly disfigured to the point of not being there. In this book, he does appear to several characters, but his face remains hidden behind his high cloak collar and broad-brimmed hat. When he takes them off, he’s disguised as someone else. He does not use any of his established alter egos in this story, visit the Cobalt Club, or hang out with the Commissioner, either. It’s all business, darkness, vengeance, the gaping muzzle of an enormous automatic, and the trailing echoes of sardonic, ghoulish laughter.)
As mentioned, this is a book fairly light on minions (because they keep killing themselves off) and while there are no all-against-one gun battles or even The Shadow’s signature “leap into a crowd of thugs and start pistol-whipping them” tactic, there’s plenty of high stakes, fast movement, and stuff blowing up. This is one of the stories where The Shadow, ultimately, doesn’t really run into any genuine setbacks (bar having to rush to a location and pull Harry Vincent out of the blast zone), doesn’t make any mistakes, outmaneuvers the villains effortlessly, and, overall, hardly seems to exert himself.
And it’s still awesome, because Walter B. Gibson was just that clever. Gibson never fell into the trap of writing The Shadow as conveniently only slightly more powerful than his current batch of enemies. His power level, intelligence, and ferocity never varies. Sometimes the going is harder, because he’s up against someone with comparable intelligence, or comparable attack, or who can afford more than two minions at a time–and sometimes, well, it’s isn’t. The Shadow always throws himself fully into whatever he’s doing; he’s always fully engaged, always using his full power, mental and physical, to battle against evil.
And the evil always loses.
So the Death Giver himself, despite his evil lair with an agonized living corpse in a glass coffin set in the floor, and (in lieu of a trick floor, because, duh, I have my centerpiece there) trick ceiling, and also a pair of large black retainers, because what evil mastermind’s lair is complete without a couple of big guys just standing around, providing cannon fodder?–is unhinged, and, honestly, my reaction to this story was and remains “squidge him out like a bug.” He is, it transpires, a former chemist specializing in poison gases whose work was rejected by the American government, and who took that rejection very much to heart. Also, he needed money in a bad way. I’m not sure how these two circumstances lead to “imprisoning a man in the floor and starving / poisoning him to death slowly over months” but there you go.
The cover seems to show The Shadow’s agents, but I’m blowed if I can match who any of them are except Cliff Marsland on the right. I’m guessing that’s Burbank in the very back, because he takes after the chief in also liking to hide his face, but if the top hat guy is Rutledge Mann, he’s not chubby enough, and is the blond one Clyde Burke? So who is the second from the left dude?
Rated: I’m with the guy who stomps out criminals like the vermin they are.
So among The Shadow aficionados, Shiwan Khan and the stories featuring him are said to be considered among the best of the best–the most challenging villain, the most evocative plots, the most deadly escapades. Shiwan Khan was the only villain to return four times in different novels (Diamond Bert Farwell returned twice, and Doctor Moquino, three.) He’s iconic enough that the 1991 movie cribbed heavily from his stories–including this one–for material.
The only problem is, Shiwan Khan’s introduction is distinctly underwhelming. Shiwan Khan himself is introduced appropriately, built up in standard style, shown to have both a grandiose aim (world rulership, naturally) and practical vision for attaining it (munitions and airplanes), and a deadly and mysterious ace in the hole (the ability to telepathically control certain people in certain circumstances.) He has minions galore, including his own trick taxicab ring. The thing is….
….there’s never really a sense of threat to him.
Possibly, this is a factor of Shiwan Khan just not scoring a very high body count and holding the city in terror, the way Doctor Moquino did. Or, it could be because The Shadow susses out his main trick and the way to counter it extremely early on in the story. Then, too, Shiwan Khan’s blackmail scheme against the civilian proxy heroes of the novel is shown to be compromised almost immediately after it occurs, diluting that source of danger. And then finally, The Shadow recognizes the true danger of the threat in true Shadow style and responds promptly with every single agent he has or can call on in a pinch. (Minus Miles Crofton, who hasn’t been seen since Shadow over Alcatraz, but, of course, including Harry Vincent. Sigh.)
So. Plot. Shiwan Khan can mentally connect with certain people by using a system of flashing lights to hypnotize them and also himself; while under his control, he can order them to do practically anything–such as alter the contracts for a large shipment of airplanes, and then march out to an unknown location, pick up a gun, and shoot someone.–which is where Paul Brent, the civilian-of-the-novel, finds himself after the sound of a gong breaks his trance. A beautiful girl in Chinese dress takes the gun from him, and he books it without stopping to ask too many questions, such as why her eyes are glazed over. It might as well be revealed now that she is actually Beatrice Chadbury, the missing and hypnotically compelled niece of a wealthy munitions manufacturer, who has a new lamp in the corner of his study, a lamp that sometimes flickers and flashes….
Soon after, The Shadow arrives at the scene of the murder, and after a brief game of cat-and-mouse, gets into a tussle with the Mongol minion who was stationed on site to make sure both of the pawns did what they were actually supposed to. The minion escapes, wounded, and The Shadow makes a quick exit while the cops are flatfooting it up the stairs. The police actually uncover the next clue, while Lamont Cranston loafs around with his buddy the police commissioner: a valuable and rare Asian ruby, which can be traced more immediately back to a reclusive and antisocial collector, Twindell, who has recently begun liquidating his jewelry collection in lieu of ancient, priceless porcelain dragons….sourced from Tibet.
Meanwhile also, mobbie Flash Gidley has acquired a fancy new radio set, with colored lights that flash in a weird, enticing manner….And so it goes, with the caveats that I mentioned before: despite Shiwan Khan’s best efforts, he just doesn’t seem like very much of a threat. He’s the sort of villain who gloats while the going is good and then cuts and runs immediately when it turns against him….which probably does explain why he lives to snivel another day, come to think of it. (Also: he has a swivel mechanism built into his throne, which, PWAH.)
Thing is: The Voodoo Master is a much better story than this, and Doctor Moquino is a stronger villain just on the one-off. Heck, The Crime Master was a better villain than this, and he was basically Dark Helmet playing with his dolls. The way to be a dangerous villain in The Shadow stories is a) to have an impregnable base (note: underground bases are actually more likely to be invaded and destroyed than skyscraper-based ones), b) to have a large enough organization to afford to take massive casualties, c) to be constantly on the aggressive, and d) constantly on the move. The key is forcing The Shadow to defend innocents instead of just tracking you down and shooting you dead, and also staying mobile enough that he doesn’t get a good fix on you and loop the cops in. Shiwan Khan has obviously never read either the Evil Overlord List, or preceding Shadow volumes.
All that being said, this is still a decent mid-tier Shadow story, and there are some additional bits of lore revealed, such as the what’s inside B. Jonas office that The Shadow uses for a contact point, but whose door is cobwebbed shut and which has never been seen to be opened or inhabited. Turns out there’s a secret entrance in the back closet, and The Shadow leaves a spare cloak and slouch hat there so anyone entering will think that they’ve found the way to his sanctum, instead of a mail drop.
Rated: I’m kinda really wanting to get a slouch hat, but….
This is a solid middle-ranking Shadow story, so it’s an automatic 8/10. There aren’t many outstanding moments, and there is the inimitably incompetent presence of Harry Vincent (dude, your boss doubled back to rescue you, left you standing over an unconscious enemy with a gun in your hand, and still you manage to get knocked out and let him escape) which I’m petty enough to bump the rating down half a star for. (Seriously.)
Nevertheless, that’s still eight out of ten. There’s still a grim, fire-eyed avenger in the night, laughing in the teeth of danger and the face of evil, with twin, mammoth automatics in each black-gloved fist; there’s still innocents to rescue and reputations to save; and there’s still sinister, dastardly, malicious and cunning villains to face and defeat, even though The Shadow must uncover, link by link, the hidden chain of death itself! And also (sigh) Harry Vincent.
So. The 80-page saga begins with young Howard Norwyn, a junior investment broker, signing in at the security desk to enter his employer’s office after hours. Unfortunately, by the time he reaches the office, his employer is dead and the actual murderer proceeds–with obvious, and perfect preplanning–to implicate Norwyn for the crime, and disappear. Fortunately, The Shadow arrives before the police do, susses out the scene, and whisks Norwyn away to safety. Norwyn, unlike some of his ilk, proves cooperative and listens quietly to Lamont Cranston, eccentric globe-trotting millionaire, at his offer of help–little knowing, of course, that, the hawkish, masklike face of Lamont Cranston is one of many that The Shadow sometimes wears.
Meanwhile, an old man dies and, as a reward for faithful (hopeful) service by his conniving young secretary, wills him not money but a secret legacy: original stock and a controlling interest in Crime, Incorporated….
You see, Crime, Incorporated (also nee: Aztec Mines), has a unique method of forming, carrying out, and avoiding consequences for, cunning crimes that might draw suspicion. Each shareholder in Crime, Incorporated knows only two others. They communicate by cipher–a cipher designed to confound the most expert cryptographer. They are men with education, means, and competencies. They are geographically widespread. They have nothing in common, save the penchant to acquire other people’s wealth by whatever means are necessary, and this complete disconnect allows them to assist or abet in crimes without bringing suspicion on themselves. And they have not yet been suspected.
Needless to say, Crime, Incorporated gets its board dissolved in a hostile takeover when The Shadow glides into the fray:
I spoke of a menace, I shall name it. Crime Incorporated has finished its career. The menace that you face will bring destruction.
Again, this book doesn’t have any jawdropping reveals or astounding action beats; the standout scene is when The Shadow materializes on a smuggler’s boat in mid-ocean with an eerie laugh, and proceeds to completely dominate the fight and take over command despite being weaponless at the onset. The small-fry smugglers are so cowed that, The Shadow ashore with the recaptured loot, they nearly wreck their boat trying to get away again.
The bulk of the mystery plot is given to solving the cryptograms by which Crime, Incorporated communicate with each other. Each message from a stockholder is doubled: a trivial one in a code made of circles, and the real one, in a code made of blocks. The circled code can be solved easily with by frequency analyses, but the block code is much more difficult; in conjunction with a simple code, the harder one is meant to make experts think it is a blind. Nevertheless, there are experts…and The Shadow.
Since the villains end up dead and there’s not a huge role to be played by The Shadow’s agents (sigh), there aren’t really any standout characters in this one; Joe Cardona does his thing, as does Burbank, and they stay in the background.
All this seems like damning with faint praise, but it’s really not. It’s a perfectly solid, perfectly-paced, perfectly-scripted, -drawn, and -laid out, compulsively readable pulp-noir novel.
Rated: I am the menace.
So much as it pains me to have paid money to do so, I went and watched The Batman. The first and most important things about this movie is that it walks a very fine line and doesn’t fall off it; and that it might actually have been written by an adult human being with a normal amount of intelligence.
That line? The ability to balance inherently ridiculous concepts (and resultant dialogue) with serious execution and sensibilities.
Does this movie “hate Batman?” Not so that I noticed; and for some of the things it did that are objectionable, you might as well criticize the comics themselves for (JUST KILL THE MASS MURDERING COMPLETELY IRREDEEMABLE PSYCHOPATHS ALREADY. JUST DO IT. Now bring back the electric chair treatment for their henchmen. There you go, that’s ALL OF YOUR RECURRING PROBLEMS SOLVED. Gahhhhhh.) Does this movie hate traditional heroism, masculinity, virtue, and the rule of law? Not really–it may even have been written by someone who actually knows what these things are. Is this movie painfully political and woke? No, and without extending too much of the benefit of the doubt, it might actually have a subtle criticism of the concept. More on this later.
Good stuff: The acting, the casting, the cinematography, and the action are all good, you’ve heard it before and in great detail; not arguing there. The semi-climactic fight in the Iceberg Lounge especially was really good, because it showcases “tactician Batman” along with “hand-to-hand combat tank Batman.” I also noticed some of the usual “We hate 100-pound women beating up stuntmen like it’s possible” suspects cheering Selina in this movie, because….of course they would, the choreography is neat and she’s wearing skin-tight latex.
There’s also the playing up of the terror factor to the Batman identity, which I liked immensely and which was stolen wholesale from The Shadow, but never mind.
So the line that everyone is going to point to is Selina accusing “White privileged people” of lacking sympathy for anyone who doesn’t share their particular circumstances. What this movie doesn’t explicitly do is point out that Selina entirely lacks sympathy for anyone who doesn’t share her own particular circumstances. What’s more, several people–the (useless) black lady mayor and the unhinged murdering pathetic psychopath–accuse Bruce Wayne of….well….hm. Privilege, and doing nothing with it. The fact that they’re completely and utterly wrong and the fact that they’re allowing their assumptions, jealousy, and lack of insight to dictate how they react to Bruce, doesn’t get explicitly called out to them…but it is demonstrated in the movie itself. The mayor lady comes across as entitled and stupid; the unhinged pathetic psychopath is an unhinged pathetic psychopath. Bruce Wayne is a man who puts his own life on the line to help others, personally, face-to-face, and it has an actual impact* on people.
(Also, try misappropriating Bat-funds. See where that gets you, HAH.)
(*’cause, y’know….punching…)
I will also give the movie this: while it does have lame dialogue, they did not jar me so far out of enjoyment that I was never able to get back in.
Oh! Also, Bats and Gordon had great buddy-cop chemistry. Also, Catwoman had great chemistry. Just, y’know, in general.
Middle stuff: Pattinson’s Bruce Wayne does pale in the shadow of his Batman, but that’s okay. The evolution of Batman from the darkness to the hero who leads people out of the darkness hasn’t quite begun, and it hasn’t included Bruce yet.
Snerk stuff: Batman walking heavily and loudly AND SLOWLY out of the shadows to impressive music gets rather old, rather fast….as, unfortunately, does the directors’ addiction to showing Batman standing still in the middle of a room doing nothing. (Even the Batmobile gets the same slow, to-music entrance, heh.)
Bad stuff: The last hour of the movie was clunky as hell. There’s no getting around that. Other than the fact that it’s not integrated into the overall plot well, there’s also the shift in tone from the villains being powerful and dangerous, but untouchable, to villains being pathetic…and untouchable. And there’s also the shift in genre from “I desperately want people to call this noir,” to “we’re doing it, we’re blowing it up, WOOO” and these things just don’t gel well together.
For a movie that celebrates Batman’s detective ability….half of Batman’s detective work in this movie consists of walking up to people and asking them if they did X….whereupon they will happily admit to X, reveal all the details about X, and offer to sign the affidavit about X. The other half can be summed up with the phrase “bat deductions.” So….
Rating: I will probably watch this movie again and enjoy it, but I sure as hell will not pay money to do so.
My notes:
bat-deductions
Hope his rabies vax is UTD.
They art-decorated the everliving HELL out of Wayne Manor.
Gordon you plugged the LITERAL THUMB drive into YOUR WORK COMPUTER?
OK motorcycles, I dig it.
CLOSE YOUR FRIDGE
Selina dun fell for tall dark and handsome. Already. Pwah.
Damn. Dat girl got some SLINK.
WOW these people want to spill the beans.
“Alfred, I don’t need your cufflinks.” = best line in the movie.
$10K? 10 measly K? REALLY?
“You think Penguin is the rat?” = close second.
DUKES OF HAZZARD RANDOM RAMP
BAT DEDUCTIONS
Shirtless RP is rather disturbing.
DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN
YOU HAD BETTER BE UP TO DATE ON YOUR RABIES SHOT MAN
500 followers???
Really? Really? Things were THAT bad at the orphanage? Is this the Victorian era? You couldn’t import some Catholic nuns or something to run it?
I feel a crowbar would have done just as well there.
All those guys are 150% too slim.
One of the great ones has died this day.
Anne Rice, the woman most responsible for the sexy vampire trope, has passed on at age 80.
I’ve never been a fan of the genre, the trope, or the author, but she’s had an enormous amount of cultural influence.
That being said, I feel she ought to be interred with a garlic garland, a load of poppy seeds, and a really big spike….
Riders of Skaith 
You must be logged in to post a comment.