BACKS IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

Hope everybody had a great Easter/Passover weekend. Friday The Wife, The Kid and I, along with some of The Wife’s cronies from her Day Gig, went to Chase Field for Opening Day and got see the spectacle of a good, tense Diamondbacks win over the Giants, 5-4. Giants great Tim Lincecum had a bad first inning, and the D-bax were able to hang in there. We were in the outfield picnic tables, and had a blast.

In other excellent news, my pal Barry Graham’s novel The Wrong Thing…

…has been nominated for a Spinetingler Award, sharing the category with the likes of Lawrence Block.

The Kid and I caught up with Mirror Mirror, a live-action comic retelling of Snow White that’s been sort of lost in the Hunger Games shuffle. It’s no Princess Bride, which it badly seems to want to be, but it’s not a bad picture; the cast—Julia Roberts as the Wicked Queen, Armie Hammer as the Charming Prince, Nathan Lane, Mare Winningham, and especially the unsentimental Dwarves—give it some buoyancy, and Lily Collins as Snowie herself is very sweet. There’s even a Bollywood-style number at the finale.

Here’s a pic of Your Humble Narrator, seemingly annoying the cast of the upcoming Dark Shadows, taken by The Kid in the lobby of the theater after the movie…

ARE YOU READY FOR THE THING CALLED WRONG?

Disclosure up front: Barry Graham & I have been close friends for many years, since we both worked at the Phoenix New Times in the late ‘90s. We’ve collaborated on a couple of projects, edited each other’s freelance pieces for different newspapers, gone to scores if not hundreds of movies together, & talked on the phone with the stamina of teenage girls, if not always with an equal level of maturity.

Still, with as much objectivity as I can muster—& much as it pains me to feed the mad Scottish bastard’s ego—I must grant that Graham is probably the best writer of prose I’ve ever known well, & that some of the very best of said prose can be found in his novel The Wrong Thing, newly out from Switchblade.

Barry recites from & signs the tome Saturday at The Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale, starting at 5 p.m.

Graham’s idea with The Wrong Thing was to put a human face on an archetypical figure, in this case the classic southwestern boogeyman: a murderous Mexican-American drug dealer known simply as The Kid. The Kid’s career is traced from his neglected childhood in a New Mexico barrio, through a string of gruesome murders & other crimes.

On the surface The Kid is likable & unassuming, even sweet—he loves his girlfriend & his cat, & reading & cooking. But whenever he’s confronted with any petty authority or crossed in the slightest way, he lapses into brutality with an almost slapstick haplessness, stumbling into homicide the way Jerry Lewis might stumble into a tray of desserts.

I don’t mean by this to suggest, by the way, that The Wrong Thing is black comedy. It’s horrific & sad, & Graham’s earnest tone insists that we take in the momentousness, both physical & moral, of every gory outrage. What keeps it from being depressing is the speed & exhilaration & straightforward beauty of the writing. Graham’s style—precise without fussiness, simple & conversational without forced chattiness—turns this tale from a case study into a tight, compact tragedy.