With this book, Matthew Branton brings together the world of failed Hollywood, S&M publishing, gangsters, real estate, pulp scribes, cancer clock-watchers and Nazi gold. It’s the sort of thing that’d usually have a ROLLICKING or RIP-SNORTING emblazoned on a cover that you’d notice in an airport bookstore.
Because that’s what this is. Though it’s sold as a pulp fiction – which is certainly is – it’s very much an Airport Book. Something you can read on the plane, that’s engaging and detailed and eminently forgettable: a brain defragger, a time-passer. Something you’ll enjoy and then leave on the shuttle bus afterwards and not feel too bad about it. (more…)