Great First Novels from the last five years or so? Any Suggestions?
Dot Williams
years or so. They don't have to have been nominated for an award.
One of the best I read is Steve Hamilton's A Cold Day in Paradise. I
could not believe it was a first novel!
Any mystery subgenre will do. I read just about anything except
British or Historical.
Thanks ahead of time.
Dot
WareWolf
"Dot Williams" <high...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:6f198c7e.02051...@posting.google.com...
> I'm looking for suggestions for great first novels from the last five
> years or so. They don't have to have been nominated for an award.
In no particular order:
"Black Dog" by Stephen Booth
"Blindsighted" by Karin Slaughter
"Gun Monkeys" by Gischler (first name excapes me right now).
"The Ice Harvest" by Scott Phillips
"The Devil's Right Hand" by yours truly if I can get the thing published
(hey forgive me a little BSP why don't ya)
Dusty
--
This week's column: Man's Past Revealed!
http://www.booksnbytes.com/dustyrhoades/columns/2002/2002_0506.html
A R Pickett
"Hollowpoint" by Rob Reuland
I'll probably think of more as soon as I hit "send"
--
A R Pickett aka Woodstock
"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry.
"I think so, Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never
talk about him."
Remove lower case "e" to respond
Sarah Weinman
news:xojD8.3525$em5.93...@newssvr16.news.prodigy.com
> "Open Season" by C J Box
> "Hollowpoint" by Rob Reuland
"Blindsighted", by that thriller/cozy/sex manual writer we hear from
every so often
"Over Tumbled Graves", Jess Walter
Sarah
--
Posted via Mailgate.ORG Server - http://www.Mailgate.ORG
Mary Lou White
The Hotel Detective, by Alan Russell
Deja Dead, by Kathy Reichs
Mary Lou
Stephen Booth
> > I read just about anything except British or Historical. < <
Dusty wrote:
> In no particular order:
>
> "Black Dog" by Stephen Booth <
Thanks a lot, Dusty. But Dot had better strike that one off her list, as I'm
British - and it's too late to do anything about it!
These aren't for Dot either, but I'm going to take the opportunity to
mention two other recent first novels:
'Sleepyhead' by Mark Billingham
'Unnatural Fire' by Fidelis Morgan.
'Sleepyhead' is British, and 'Unnatural Fire' is British AND Historical.
Apart from that, it's a shame to miss them!
Steve
Mark Billingham
Thanks a lot, Dusty. But Dot had better strike that one off her list, as I'm
British - and it's too late to do anything about it!
These aren't for Dot either, but I'm going to take the opportunity to
mention two other recent first novels:
'Sleepyhead' by Mark Billingham
'Unnatural Fire' by Fidelis Morgan.
'Sleepyhead' is British, and 'Unnatural Fire' is British AND Historical.
Apart from that, it's a shame to miss them!
Steve
>>
Yeah...hooray...etc.
Come on Dot, Brits can write crime fiction too...why not try just a couple? No
tea and crumpets mentioned - that's a guarantee!
Mark
Fidelis Morgan
"Stephen Booth" <st...@stephen-booth.com> wrote in message
news:TdrD8.463$Yj7.72296@wards...
> These aren't for Dot either, but I'm going to take the opportunity to
> mention two other recent first novels:
>
> 'Sleepyhead' by Mark Billingham
> 'Unnatural Fire' by Fidelis Morgan.
>
> 'Sleepyhead' is British, and 'Unnatural Fire' is British AND Historical.
> Apart from that, it's a shame to miss them!
And I'm Irish anyway.
And though my books are categorised 'historical', and set in 1699, you'll
find they are no swooning women, nice manners, and 'hither ye yonder'-stuff.
2 recent review descriptions might give you the idea: 'Columbo in a powdered
wig'; and 'Cagney and Lacey in corsets'.
Give us a bash - all three of us will be over there soon enough, and then
we'll sort you out - be warned.
FM
Alberto Karim
news:20020512063537...@mb-md.aol.com
> << "Black Dog" by Stephen Booth <
>
> Thanks a lot, Dusty. But Dot had better strike that one off her list, as I'm
> British - and it's too late to do anything about it!
>
> Come on Dot, Brits can write crime fiction too...why not try just a couple? No
> tea and crumpets mentioned - that's a guarantee!
>
> Mark
>
> http://www.markbillingham.com
Hey a bit of Crumpet is good for the soul... ANYWAY been up late reading
Mark Billingham's blistering 'SCAREDY CAT' Superb follow-up to
'Sleepyhead' even more polish, even more menace, and boy it kept me up
late, I hope my review makes it to SHOTS.
Anyway, despite being tired from last night, my list, from the top of my
head would be :-
BIRDMAN - MO HAYDER
SLEEPYHEAD - MARK BILLINGHAM
BLACK DOG - STEVE BOOTH
FACELESS KILLERS - HENNING MANKELL
BLOOD RED RIVERS - J C GRANGE
40 WORDS FOR SORROW - GILES BLUNT
THE ICE HARVEST - SCOTT PHILLIPS
BLOOD JUNCTION - CAROLINE CARVER
KILLING FLOOR - LEE CHILD
GARNETHILL - DENISE MINA
DEVIANT WAYS - CHRIS MOONEY
CITY OF ICE - JOHN FARROW
RESURRECTION DAY - BRENDAN DUbOIS
SASSO - JAMES STURTZ
ELEVEN DAYS - DON HARSTAD
A LIKENESS IN STONE - J W MARTIN
RAVELING/RAVELLING - PETER MOORE SMITH
DENIAL - Dr K Ablow
LOST GIRLS - ANDREW PIPER
THE RIVER SORROW - CRAIG HOLDEN
RUN - DOUGLAS WINTER
THE BODY POLITIC - PAUL JOHNSTONE
EVERY DEAD THING - JOHN CONNOLLY
TRACK OF THE CAT - NEVADA BARR
FLINT - PAUL EDDY
GOD IS A BULLET - BOSTON TERRAN
POET IN THE GUTTER - JOHN BAKER
THE ALIENIST - CALEB CARR
KISS ME JUDAS - W W BAERL
WORKING GIRLS - MAUREEN CARTER
And I'm sure/certain I've missed out a heap of books.
Best Rgds
Ali - tired (too much reading of late)
David Matthews
"Fidelis Morgan" wrote :
> And I'm Irish anyway.
<snip>
> FM
>
> http://www.fidelismorgan.com
>
>
>
So how come you were born in England and have a Welsh surname ?
Dave
Jonathan Askew
Dot Williams wrote:
> I'm looking for suggestions for great first novels from the last five
> years or so. >.
"Blindsighted" by whatzername comes to mind.
cheers,
Mary
Fidelis Morgan
"David Matthews" <dmatt...@sympatico.ca> wrote in message
news:OpsD8.645$t2.2...@news20.bellglobal.com...
>
> "Fidelis Morgan" wrote :
> > And I'm Irish anyway.
> So how come you were born in England and have a Welsh surname ?
>
> Dave
Morgan is a Celtic name - It means man from the sea. You find Morgans in
Wales, Mawgens in Cornwall and Morgans in West Ireland. Many of them - the
black Irish i.e. men with swarthy complexions and black curly hair - are
supposedly descended from survivors of the Spanish Armada, which ran aground
all down that west coast. (In which case I suppose I'm Spanish).
My parents were Liverpool-Irish. The old joke being that Liverpool was the
capital of Ireland, as more Irish people lived there at the turn of the last
century than in the whole of Ireland.
I bear an Irish passport.
BLIND 321
could not believe it was a first novel! >>
Steve's books are fabulous.
KS
BLIND 321
Garnethill by Denise Mina
Body of a Girl by Leah Stewart
Stacking in Rivertown by Barbara Bell
Scaredy Cat by Mark Billingham
KS
BLIND 321
Apart from that, it's a shame to miss them! >>
Do you really think of it as being historical? I loved the book, and I
honestly think of it as crime fiction than historical. I hate the historical
label anyway, because it makes the book seem like something an old lady would
read over her knitting with a bunch of cats around her (not that that's a bad
thing, Carol). It really is a lot more contemporary than books I've recently
read that are supposed to be "cool" and "hip." AND, it's witty as hell.
KS
BLIND 321
Oh! GREAT book.
KS
BLIND 321
black Irish i.e. men with swarthy complexions >>
mmm...swarthy...
Beth
David Matthews
"Fidelis Morgan" <fid...@nospamfidelismorgan.com> wrote in message
news:mTtD8.1064$eK4....@newsfep1-win.server.ntli.net...
Thanks. We have somewhat the same background. My parents came from the same
part of England, Liverpool/Manchester and my grandparents from Wales and
Ireland. Things have almost certainly changed now but when I left England
for Canada in the early '60's only two towns in Ireland had more Irish born
citizens than London, England. (They were Dublin and Cork I believe).
Regards,
Dave
Jr@Ease
<akari...@aol.com> wrote:
<snip>
>Anyway, despite being tired from last night, my list, from the top of my
>head would be :-
<snip massive list>
>Ali - tired (too much reading of late)
My, you have a lot on the top of your head Ali. I'm impressed.
It's probably good you got that out. Hate to see you reach critical
mass and possibly explode again. :-)
John - filing that list away for TBR pile
Stephen Booth
> Do you really think of it as being historical? I loved the book, and I
> honestly think of it as crime fiction than historical. I hate the
> historical label anyway, because it makes the book seem like something
> an old lady would read over her knitting with a bunch of cats around her
> (not that that's a bad thing, Carol). It really is a lot more
> contemporary than books I've recently read that are supposed to be
> "cool" and "hip." AND, it's witty as hell. <
I don't think there are fixed boundaries between these things. Crime fiction
can be historical, and a historical can be witty. Why not?
Obviously, you choose your own definition of the terms. But the UK Crime
Writers' Association defines 'a historical mystery' as anything with a crime
theme set in a period up to 1965 (which happens to be well within living
memory for some around here!). 'Unnatural Fire' falls well within that
definition, in my view, and I imagine Fidelis to be a strong contender for
the CWA's Dagger Award for the best historical mystery. Last year, the
award went to Andrew Taylor for a book set in the 1950s. It was still
crime fiction, whatever.
Steve
(Damn, now a cat has arrived in the room and ruined my image!)
Dot Williams
> 'Sleepyhead' is British, and 'Unnatural Fire' is British AND Historical.
> Apart from that, it's a shame to miss them!
>
time to read all I want. I doubt I'm the only one with that problem.
So many good books, so little time... I'd read all the time if I
could.
And the first novel desire is to compare first works with later works,
find out which companies give new writers a chance and find new
authors
Mmmm. Black Dog, That title is interesting.
No intent to "sort out". Even if an American, or Russian, or German,
.... author wrote a book with a gothic, fantasy, or historical setting
the plot would have to be veryyyy compelling for me to read it.
I love Agatha and have read all of Rowling and many other British
authors as well. It's Agatha's "fault" I love mysteries.
With your suggestions maybe I can find some more authors. Maybe I'll
even try something different.
I'll check out any suggestions. I'll still probably "stick with" more
contemporary times. I just can't seem to find many books I like with a
time setting before the 1920's. Of course there are books that are
great reads set in a different time where the time had little to do
with what happened to the characters. Those I can read.
What Scotland Yard novels are the best?
'Cagney and Lacey in corsets'. With a description like that I've got
to take a look! Thanks.
Keep the suggestions coming.
Thanks!
Dot
Fidelis Morgan
> But the UK Crime
> Writers' Association defines 'a historical mystery' as anything with a
crime
When are they going to bring in a category called 'Geographical mysteries'
for anything set outside London or New York?
FM
Jr@Ease
Or LA?
John
Stephen Booth
> When are they going to bring in a category called 'Geographical mysteries'
> for anything set outside London or New York? <
I think 'Regional Mysteries' is the term you're looking for, Fidelis. I do
see it used in the UK sometimes (since my books aren't set in London). But
it definitely seems to be a category in the USA - in fact, several
categories, since I've come across North Western Mysteries, South Western
Mysteries, Florida Mysteries, etc. There are regional awards such as the
Spotted Owl, for authors in the Pacific North West.
Of course, a Regional Mystery could also be Historical. And witty. And,
possibly, "hip".
Steve
sandi
actually there are some on-line bookstores with a mystery sub-category called
"mysteries in exotic locales." to be tactful (which i ALWAYS am), the best
description of some of the locales is not london, ny or la. but some of them
are exotic.
sandi
Alberto Karim
news:20020512093019...@mb-ci.aol.com
> << RAVELING/RAVELLING - PETER MOORE SMITH >>
>
>
> Oh! GREAT book.
>
> KS
I knew I missed some on my list so here goes two more amazing debuts :-
Blindsighted by Karin Slaughter
The Business of Dying by Simon Kernick (due out in July 2002 in the UK)
Ali
Alberto Karim
Begorrah....Hey how called ?????? and wheres my Blarney stone !
;-x
sandi
>> And I'm Irish anyway.
>So how come you were born in England and have a Welsh surname ?
ha! my daughter was born in vietnam. she has four names right now. italian,
vietnamese, dutch and german. who knows what will happen if she marries and
chooses to hyphenate her name like i did. she's quite the international chick!
and she's only three years old.
sandi
J&J
> I'm looking for suggestions for great first novels from the last five
> years or so. They don't have to have been nominated for an award.
> One of the best I read is Steve Hamilton's A Cold Day in Paradise. I
> could not believe it was a first novel!
I really enjoyed A Cold Day in Paradise as well.
Here are just a few of my fave first time novels
Blindsighted by Karin Slaughter
God is A Bullet by Boston Teran
Black Dog by Stephen Booth
Sleepyhead by Mark Billingham
Raveling by Peter Moore Smith
Eleven Days by Donald Harstad
The Ice Harvest by Scott Phillips, mostly just for the ending
Every Dead Thing by John Connolly
A Drink Before The War by Dennis Lehane
judi
Sarah Weinman
out in the last little while. Just shows that crime fiction is where the
writing is at right now.
Another book I really liked was THE BLUE EDGE OF MIDNIGHT by Jonathon
King. He shows a lot of promise.
Sarah
Bud Beckman
>
> XX <
> judi
You forgot 'Robbers' by C. Cook.
Bud
Dot Williams
> And I'm sure/certain I've missed out a heap of books.
>
> Best Rgds
>
>
> Ali - tired (too much reading of late)
Wow. I've only read one on this list. Printed it for reference.
"too much reading of late..." Never too much.
Thanks
Dot
Fidelis Morgan
"Stephen Booth" <st...@stephen-booth.com> wrote
> I think 'Regional Mysteries' is the term you're looking for, Fidelis. I do
> see it used in the UK sometimes (since my books aren't set in London). But
> it definitely seems to be a category in the USA - in fact, several
> categories, since I've come across North Western Mysteries, South Western
> Mysteries, Florida Mysteries, etc. There are regional awards such as the
> Spotted Owl, for authors in the Pacific North West.
>
> Of course, a Regional Mystery could also be Historical. And witty. And,
> possibly, "hip".
Good lord, I thought you were joking at the top of that.
So Blindsighted, Black Dog etc are regional mysteries. Well I never.
Where can I get the form to nominate them for the Regional Mystery Dagger?
And while we're on the subject of categories, can anyone tell me: in a Quilt
mystery is the quilt the protagonist? And in regional quilt mysteries would
he be called a duvet?
FM
http://www.fidelismorgan.com
Donna
Well Dot, my favourite fairly recent (I couldn't be bothered getting off
my bum to check dates) firsts are:
William Kent Kreuger - Iron Lake
Barbara Seranella - No Human Involved
Judith Smith-Levin - Do Not Go Gently
Other recent favourites which don't fit your criteria because they're
British, but deserve to be read!
John Baker - Poet In The Gutter
Stephen Booth - Black Dog - British
Stuart Pawson - Picasso Scam
Ron Ellis - Mean Streets
Take care,
Donna
Stephen Booth
> So Blindsighted, Black Dog etc are regional mysteries. Well I never.
> Where can I get the form to nominate them for the Regional Mystery Dagger?
<
A couple of years ago, I was asked to take part in a panel at Dead on
Deansgate that was called: "Regional Crime? Capital!". The panel also
included Laura Lippman and Candace Robb, and was moderated by John Harvey.
So who am I to complain?
Steve
Alberto Karim
news:6c880bf9f564446ed38...@mygate.mailgate.org
>
> Another book I really liked was THE BLUE EDGE OF MIDNIGHT by Jonathon
> King. He shows a lot of promise.
>
> Sarah
Heard a little bit of a buzz about this book, the poor writer shares the
same name as a disgraced British Singer/Celebrity 'Jonathon King' famous
for his sneer, his 'Everyone's going to the Moon' Single in the 1960's.
HIP BBC2 TV show of the 1970's Entertainment USA.
Now famous for being in prison, after revelations of his raping young
boy's in the back of his car.
So if the Writer Jonathon King comes to the UK, it might be wise to
release the book under a psuedonym, 'cos even the title could be
misconstrued as some weird male rape 'whatever'....
Anyway, so much for names,...
Ali
Sarah Weinman
news:ac9bd1cf884cdd6a19d...@mygate.mailgate.org
> So if the Writer Jonathon King comes to the UK, it might be wise to
> release the book under a psuedonym, 'cos even the title could be
> misconstrued as some weird male rape 'whatever'....
>
> Anyway, so much for names,...
>
>
> Ali
OMG, Yikes Ali!!!!
I should see if the book's got a UK deal. Man. I'm speechless.
Sarah
BLIND 321
he be called a duvet? >>
Maybe in France.
KS
Fran Read
> > black Irish i.e. men with swarthy complexions >>
> >
> >
> > mmm...swarthy...
> > Beth
>
> Begorrah....Hey how called ?????? and wheres my Blarney stone !
> ;-x
> Ali
In your pocket, isn't it?
Beth
Beth Tindall
"Fran Read" <fr...@southcom.com.au> wrote
> > Begorrah....Hey how called ?????? and wheres my Blarney stone !
> > ;-x
> > Ali
>
> In your pocket, isn't it?
> Beth
>
>
at least I hope that's the Blarney Stone in your pocket. If not, someone's
been bad and will have to be punished.
Mistress Fran
J&J
> You forgot 'Robbers' by C. Cook.
> Bud
Okay Bud, I'm easy
I checked it on Amazon and it sounds pretty good
I'll look for it
judi
Fran Read
> > > ;-x
> > > Ali
> >
> > In your pocket, isn't it?
> > Beth
> >
> at least I hope that's the Blarney Stone in your pocket. If not, someone's
> been bad and will have to be punished.
> Mistress Fran
Punished? Does someone need punishing? He can come and help me
repair/redecorate my bathroom!
Carol
artyw
> > I'm looking for suggestions for great first novels from the last five
> > years or so. They don't have to have been nominated for an award.
>
>
>
Hard Feelings by Jason Starr
I also liked A Simple Plan by Scott Smith (although that is about 10
years old)
and Diamond Dogs by Alan Watts (I am not absolutely sure this is a
first novel though).
Alberto Karim
> > So if the Writer Jonathon King comes to the UK, it might be wise to
> > release the book under a psuedonym, 'cos even the title could be
> > misconstrued as some weird male rape 'whatever'....
> >
> > Anyway, so much for names,...
> >
> >
> > Ali
>
> OMG, Yikes Ali!!!!
>
> I should see if the book's got a UK deal. Man. I'm speechless.
>
> Sarah
Yes frightening stuff indeed, do a search on Google for Jonathon King+uk
and see what I mean !
He has a really bad reputation in the UK !
Ali
J&J
Fran Read wrote:
> Punished? Does someone need punishing? He can come and help me
> repair/redecorate my bathroom!
> Carol
If the exploding pants will be around, count me in
I've been very bad
Jane Haddam
Mark Alan Miller
"Fran Read" <fr...@southcom.com.au> wrote in message
news:abmofp$24n0$1...@arachne.labyrinth.net.au...
No, that's his little pelecanos, I believe.
Mark Alan Miller
Stephen Booth
> Mmmm. Black Dog, That title is interesting. <
I can see you're tempted, Dot. What can I do to swing it? Free pen? Keyring?
Signed bookplate?
Steve
Sarah Weinman
news:vORD8.771$nm4.61...@newssvr14.news.prodigy.com
> >
> > In your pocket, isn't it?
>
> No, that's his little pelecanos, I believe.
>
> Mark Alan Miller
And here I thought he was just happy to see us.
Sarah
Beth Tindall
"Stephen Booth" <st...@stephen-booth.com> wrote
...
> Dot Williams wrote:
> > Mmmm. Black Dog, That title is interesting. <
>
> I can see you're tempted, Dot. What can I do to swing it? Free pen?
Keyring?
> Signed bookplate?
>
> Steve
pssssssssst Dot -- hold out for a "Booth's Sleuths" t-shirt -- I think
they're the next big fashion statement!
Beth (wants one)
Graham Ecclestone
"Beth Tindall" <be...@cinSINcinnati.com> wrote in message
news:OKTD8.81885$Ez5.20...@typhoon.neo.rr.com...
I'd call that greedy ;-)
I would be happy with a signed bookplate or two for my recently acquired
1st's of Dancing and Blood.
Graham (being cheeky)
Bridget
<sa...@weinmans.com> wrote:
>"Mark Alan Miller" <mami...@sfdiamond.com> wrote in message
>news:vORD8.771$nm4.61...@newssvr14.news.prodigy.com
>
>> >
>> > In your pocket, isn't it?
>>
>> No, that's his little pelecanos, I believe.
>>
>> Mark Alan Miller
>
>And here I thought he was just happy to see us.
>
>Sarah
They need to get a Booth.
B.
Bridget
You will NOT regret it or I'll send you a dozen Floridian magnets!
B.
Bridget
<ppssssssst Beth> I got the book and nuttin else.
<hand sweeping up to forehead>--where did I go wrongggggg.
B.
Bridget
<gra...@nooospampleaseeeeecclestone.freeserve.co.uk> wrote:
>> pssssssssst Dot -- hold out for a "Booth's Sleuths" t-shirt -- I think
>> they're the next big fashion statement!
>>
>> Beth (wants one)
>
>
>I'd call that greedy ;-)
>I would be happy with a signed bookplate or two for my recently acquired
>1st's of Dancing and Blood.
>
>Graham (being cheeky)
>
<pssst Graham-- ask for three and send one to me!>
smiling,
b.
Jim Barker
Stephen Booth
> >pssssssssst Dot -- hold out for a "Booth's Sleuths" t-shirt -- I think
> >they're the next big fashion statement!
> >
> >Beth (wants one) < <
> >
> ppssssssst Beth> I got the book and nuttin else.
> hand sweeping up to forehead>--where did I go wrongggggg. <
Okay, okay. Free pens, keyrings, coasters and bookmarks will be officially
issued to all RAMmers attending Bouchercon in Austin - as long as they can
prove they're in legal possession of at least one of my books.
But I'm not responsible for the "Booth's Sleuths" t-shirts. You'll have to
speak to the Chief Sleuth about that (they certainly make some kind of
statement, but I'm not sure fashion has anything to with it).
Steve
Sarah Weinman
news:8HXD8.660$Yj7.108760@wards
> Okay, okay. Free pens, keyrings, coasters and bookmarks will be officially
> issued to all RAMmers attending Bouchercon in Austin - as long as they can
> prove they're in legal possession of at least one of my books.
ALL RIGHT!!!
What about chocolate. You must provide chocolate as well.
>
> But I'm not responsible for the "Booth's Sleuths" t-shirts. You'll have to
> speak to the Chief Sleuth about that (they certainly make some kind of
> statement, but I'm not sure fashion has anything to with it).
So how *did* that get started, anyway, and will they be making BCon
appearances, too?
Beth Tindall
"Stephen Booth" <st...@stephen-booth.com> wrote
> Okay, okay. Free pens, keyrings, coasters and bookmarks will be officially
> issued to all RAMmers attending Bouchercon in Austin - as long as they can
> prove they're in legal possession of at least one of my books.
but but but isn't Val McDermid gonna get mad if you hand out stuff with her
name on it?
Beth (who had 2, count'em 2, Dancing with the Virgins and passed them along
to others. reluctantly. And I've got witnesses!)
Hurricane7
Patricia (shameless I know...but Beth taught me well)
"Beth Tindall" <be...@cinSINcinnati.com> wrote in message
news:OKTD8.81885$Ez5.20...@typhoon.neo.rr.com...
>
Bud Beckman
>
> On Mon, J&J wrote:
>
> >
> >
> >> You forgot 'Robbers' by C. Cook.
> >
> >> Bud
> >
> >
> >Okay Bud, I'm easy
> >I checked it on Amazon and it sounds pretty good
> >I'll look for it
> >
> >judi
>
> You will NOT regret it or I'll send you a dozen Floridian magnets!
> B.
You prompted me, B. and now I pass it along, it is a good read.
Bud
Fran Read
> issued to all RAMmers attending Bouchercon in Austin - as long as they can
> prove they're in legal possession of at least one of my books.
>
> But I'm not responsible for the "Booth's Sleuths" t-shirts. You'll have to
> speak to the Chief Sleuth about that (they certainly make some kind of
> statement, but I'm not sure fashion has anything to with it).
> Steve
Do you post out to people who are there in spirit? Because by the time I
get to Bouchercon in Vegas you'll have run out!
Fran (working up to a whine)
Alberto Karim
> "Sarah Weinman" <sa...@weinmans.com> wrote in message
> news:484eb54018de68b4a32...@mygate.mailgate.org
>
> > >
> >
> > I should see if the book's got a UK deal. Man. I'm speechless.
> >
> > Sarah
>
THE 'OTHER JONATHON KING'
Well the story for those outside the UK would make most Mystery Writers
not believe that someone in the public eye could have been so awful :-
http://www.guardian.co.uk/weekend/story/0,3605,609185,00.html
The fall of a pop impresario
Jonathan King was last week exposed as a serial abuser of young boys.
For the past year, Jon Ronson has built a relationship with King that
reveals him as a man of no little charm, stunning ego - and completely
unable to accept he has done anything wrong
Saturday December 1, 2001
The Guardian
September 10, 2001. The Old Bailey trial of the pop mogul and former pop
star Jonathan King, in which he is accused of a series of child sex
offences dating back to the 1970s and 1980s, begins this morning. Back
in July, Judge Paget decided, for the purposes of case management, to
have three trials instead of one. So the jury will hear only the charges
that relate to the years between 1982 and 1987. There are six within
this time frame - one buggery, one attempted buggery, and four indecent
assaults on boys aged 14 and 15.
I have been having an email correspondence with Jonathan King for the
past nine months, and last night he emailed me to say, "I think you
know, young Ronson, that whichever way it goes for me you could have an
award-winning story here, if you're brave. You can change the face of
Great Britain if you do it well. Good luck! JK"
I have just returned from New York, and in the canteen on the third
floor of the Old Bailey - in the minutes before the trial is due to
begin - Jonathan King comes over to make small talk about my trip. "Did
you bring me any presents back?" he asks. "Any small boys? Just kidding!
Don't you think it is amazing that I have retained my sense of humour?"
He smiles across the canteen at his arresting officers. They smile
faintly back. Jonathan has always told me about his good relationship
with the police, how kind they were to him during his arrest, and he
looks a little crestfallen at their evident withdrawal of affection.
"The police are far less friendly than they were," he says. "Quite
boot-faced, in fact." He pauses. "And there doesn't even seem to be a
senior officer around. I'm getting quite insulted that I'm so
unimportant that only constables are allowed anywhere near the case."
He looks at me for a response. What should I say? Yes, his crimes are so
significant and he is so famous that it would seem appropriate for a
more senior officer to be in attendance? In the end, I just shrug.
There are half-a-dozen journalists here today covering the case. In the
lobby outside the court, Jonathan approaches some to shake their hands.
"Who's the gorgeous blonde with a TV cameraman?" he whispers to me.
"Sorry if this ruins my image."
"I felt terrible about shaking his hand," one reporter says a little
later. "I felt disgusting. I was standing there thinking, 'What's he
done with that hand?' I should have refused to shake it."
"I just asked my solicitor if it's unusual for the accused to make a
point of shaking the hands of the press and the prosecution barrister,"
Jonathan says as we walk into court. "He said it was absolutely unheard
of!" Jonathan laughs, and adds, "You know, I fully intend to change the
legal system just like I changed the pop industry."
And, at that, we take our seats. The jury is selected, and the trial
begins.
On November 24, 2000, Jonathan King was charged with three child sex
offences, dating back 32 years. In the light of the publicity
surrounding his arrest, a dozen other boys (now men) came forward to
tell police that King had abused them too, during the 1970s and 1980s.
Some said he picked them up at the Walton Hop, a disco in
Walton-on-Thames run by his friend Deniz Corday. Others said he cruised
them in his Rolls-Royce in London. He'd pull over and ask why they were
out so late and did they know who he was. He was Jonathan King! Did they
want a lift?
He told the boys he was conducting market research into the tastes of
young people. Did they like his music? His TV shows? Were they fans of
Entertainment USA, his BBC2 series? He asked them to complete a
questionnaire - written by him - to list their hobbies in order of
preference. Cars? Music? Family and friends? Sex?
"Oh, really?" Jonathan would say to them. "You've only put sex at number
two?"
And so they would get talking about sex. He sometimes took them to his
Bayswater mews house, with its mirrored toilet and casually scattered
photos of naked women on the coffee table. Sometimes, he took them to
car parks, or to the forests near the Walton Hop. He showed them
photographs of naked Colombian air hostesses and Sam Fox. He could, he
said, arrange for them to have sex with the women in the photos. (Sam
Fox knew nothing about this).
Sometimes, within the bundle of photographs of naked women he would hand
the boys, there would be a picture of himself naked. "Oh!" he'd say,
blushing a little. "Sorry. You weren't supposed to see that one of me!"
(When the police raided King's house, they say they found 10 overnight
bags, each stuffed with his seduction kit - his questionnaires and
photos of Sam Fox and photos of himself naked - all packed and ready for
when the urge took him to get into his Rolls-Royce and start driving
around.)
He told the boys that it was fine if they wanted to masturbate. And then
things would progress from there. Some of the boys reported that his
whole body would start to shake as he sat next to them in the
Rolls-Royce. And then he "went for it", in the words of one victim. None
of the boys say that he forced himself on to them. They all say they
just sat there, awed into submission by his celebrity. The boys all say
that Jonathan King has emotionally scarred them for life, although
almost all of them returned, on many occasions, and became the victims
of more assaults.
Later, Jonathan King will spend his last weekend of freedom - the
weekend before the guilty verdicts - recording for me a video diary of
his feelings about the charges. At one point, midway through this
20-minute tape, he hollers into his camera about this perplexing aspect
of the case. "They kept coming back to me again and again and again,
although this vile behaviour was supposed to be taking place!" He
laughs, as if he's delivering a funny monologue on some entertainment TV
show. "Why on earth would anybody do that? I'd be out of that house as
fast as I possibly could! I'd make damned sure I was never alone with
that person again. Mad!"
When the police asked Jonathan why all these boys - who have never met
or even spoken to each other - had almost identical stories to tell, he
replied that he didn't know. I am determined to ask at least one victim
why he continually went back for more.
The defence argues that the police actively encouraged claims of
emotional scarring when they interviewed the victims, because, without
it, what else was there? Just some sex, long ago. The danger, says the
defence team, is that if Jonathan is found guilty, the judge will
sentence him not only for the acts themselves, but also for the quantity
of emotional scarring the victims claim to have. And how can that be
quantified, especially in this age of the self, when the whole world
seems to be forever looking to their childhoods for clues as to why they
turned out so badly.
"Jonathan King," says David Jeremy, the prosecution barrister, in his
opening remarks to the jury, "was exploiting the young by his
celebrity."
When I first heard about King's arrest, I looked back at his press
interviews for clues, and found a quote he gave Music Week magazine in
1997: "I am a 15-year-old trapped inside a 52-year-old body."
I talked to some of his friends from the pop industry, and one of them
said, "Poor Jonathan. We were all doing that sort of thing back then."
I attended an early hearing at Staines Magistrates' Court. Jonathan King
arrived in a chauffeured car. The windows were blacked out. Two builders
watched him from a distance. As he walked past them and into the court,
one of them yelled, "Fucking nonce!"
He kept walking. Inside, he noticed me on the press benches. We had
appeared together on Talk Radio a few years ago and he recognised me. On
his way out, he gave me a lavish bow, as if I had just witnessed a
theatrical event, starring him. Outside, the builders were still there.
They shouted "Fucking nonce!" again.
My email correspondence with Jonathan began soon after this hearing. In
one email, he asked me if I would consider it fair if, say, Mick Jagger
was arrested today for having sex with a 15-year-old girl in 1970. I
agreed that it wouldn't be. He told me that he was being charged with
the same crime that destroyed Oscar Wilde - the buggering of teenage
boys - and we perceive Wilde to have been unjustly treated by a
puritanical society from long ago. I wonder if the reason why we look
less kindly upon Jonathan King is because he sang Jump Up And Down And
Wave Your Knickers In The Air , while Oscar Wilde wrote De Profundis.
In another email, he wrote about Neil and Christine Hamilton, falsely
accused of rape while being filmed by Louis Theroux, whom Jonathan sees
as my great competitor in the humorous journalism market. He wrote,
"Louis EVERYWHERE . . . but who on earth would want to cover the
Hamiltons, famous for doing NOTHING. Still, I do hope The Real Jon
Ronson will have the balls, courage and integrity to take up the crusade
(whatever the outcome) that it is GROSSLY unfair for the accused
person/people to be smeared all over the media. Over to you, Ronson (we
don't just want a Theroux treatment, do we?)"
Later, in court, some of the victims say that Jonathan had a trick of
making them feel special, as if they could do anything, as if they could
make it big in showbusiness, just so long as they stuck with him (and
didn't tell anyone what had happened). Has King got legitimate
grievances against the legal system, or is he simply trying to seduce me
in the same way he seduced the boys?
His Jagger analogy, I presume, was alluding to some covert homophobia at
the heart of the case. But perhaps the real contrast lies somewhere
else. Mick Jagger (or, indeed, Bill Wyman) wouldn't have needed to
pretend he was conducting market research into the tastes of young
people. He wouldn't have needed to have promised them sex with Colombian
air hostesses. But Jonathan did not, intrinsically, have much pulling
power, so he did need those extra little touches. Perhaps the real
contrast, then, is one of aesthetics.
The Walton Hop closed down in 1990. There were complaints of noise from
the neighbours. But the Hop's home, the Walton Playhouse, still stands.
Jimmy Pursey, the lead singer of Sham 69, was one of the Hop's most
regular teenage attendees. He went dancing there every Tuesday, Friday
and Saturday night throughout the 1970s. One day, shortly before the
trial began, Jimmy gave me a guided tour of the Playhouse. "It's so hard
to explain to people who see in black and white the colour that existed
in this club," he said. "The Playhouse was a theatre for fringe plays
and amateur dramatics. But on Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays it would
become paradise." Jimmy took me through the hall, and towards the stage.
"It was inspirational," said Jimmy. "This wasn't table tennis. This was
dancing. This was testing out your own sexuality. Normal people would
become very unnormal. It was Welcome to the Pleasure Dome. It was
everything."
He leapt up on to the stage, and took me to the wings, stage right. We
stood behind the curtains. "This is where the inner sanctum was," said
Jimmy. "From here, Deniz Corday [the manager of the Walton Hop] would
have the best view of the teenagers who were a little bit bolder, a
little bit more interesting."
"Bolder and interesting in what way?" I asked.
"People like me," said Jimmy. "If Deniz liked you, you'd be invited
backstage and get a little bit of whisky added to your Coca-Cola.
Backstage, you see. And you'd go, 'Oh, I'm in with the big crowd now'.
That's all there was to it with Deniz."
"And Jonathan?" I asked.
"He'd drive into the Hop car park, and come backstage from the side," he
said. "And we'd all be going, 'God! There's a Rolls-Royce outside with a
TV aerial coming from it! Ooh, it's got a TV in the back and it's a
white Rolls-Royce!' Because you'd never know if it was the Beatles."
"But it wasn't the Beatles," I said.
"No," said Jimmy. "It was Jonathan King." He laughed. "A very big
difference there!"
The Beatles lived on St George's Hill, in nearby Weybridge, and were
often seen driving around Walton in their Rolls-Royces. The Walton area,
in the 1970s, was London's playpen, full of pop moguls and pop stars,
letting their hair down, doing just what Jimmy said the teenagers at the
Walton Hop did - being "unnormal". In fact, a disproportionate number of
celebrities who are now convicted paedophiles hung around backstage at
the Walton Hop, this popular youth club, during the 1970s and 1980s.
There was Jonathan King's friend, Tam Paton, for instance, the manager
of the Bay City Rollers who was convicted of child sex offences in the
early 1980s. (It was Paton who first introduced Jonathan King to the Hop
- they met when Jonathan was invited to produce the Rollers' debut
single, Keep On Dancing.) Chris Denning, the former Radio 1 DJ, was
another Hop regular - he has a string of child sex convictions, is
currently in jail in Prague, and was friendly with King and Paton.
For Jimmy Pursey, the trick was to pick up the girls who were drawn to
the Hop to see the Bay City Rollers, while avoiding the attentions of
the impresarios who orchestrated the night. "It was fun with Deniz
Corday," said Jimmy. "Deniz would say, 'Oh Jimmy! Come here! I'd love to
suck your fucking cock!' Deniz was a silly, fluffy man. Then there was
Tam Paton.
I remember being back here having one of my whisky and Coca-Colas one
night, and Tam turned to me and he said, 'I like fucking lorry drivers'.
Chris Denning was more reckless. One time he placed his penis within the
pages of a gay centrefold and showed it to my ex-bass player, who
proceeded to kick the magazine, and Denning's dick, and yell, 'Come on,
Jimmy, we're fucking out of here!' But Jonathan King was more like a
Victorian doctor. It wasn't an eerie vibe . . . but Jonathan had this
highbrow, Cambridge, sophisticated thing about him. The Jekyll and Hyde
thing. There wasn't much conversation with Jonathan. And with Jonathan,
you'd always had these rumours. 'Oh, he got so and so into the white
Rolls-Royce'. And they'd always be the David Cassidy lookalike
competition winners. Very beautiful."
"Would he make a grand entrance?" I asked.
"Oh no," said Jimmy. "It was never, 'Look at me!' He never went out on
to the dancefloor at all. He was much happier hiding backstage up here,
behind the curtains, in the inner sanctum." Jimmy paused. "The same way
he hid behind all those pseudonyms, see? He's always hiding. I think
that's the whole thing of his life. He always says, 'That was me behind
Genesis! That was me behind 10cc! That was me behind all those
pseudonyms.' But what do you do then, Jonathan? Who are you then,
Jonathan?"
Jimmy was referring to the countless pseudonymous novelty hits Jonathan
had in the late 1960s and 1970s - The Piglets' Johnny Reggae, for
instance, and Shag's Loop Di Love. These came after his hugely
successful 1965 debut, Everyone's Gone To The Moon, which was recorded
while he was still a student at Cambridge. (Before that, he was a pupil
at Charterhouse). It was a remarkable career path: a lovely, plaintive
debut, followed by a string of silly, deliberately irritating hits.
One of King's friends later suggests to me that it was his look - the
big nose, the glasses, the weird lop-sided grin - that determined this
career path, as if he somehow came to realise that it was his aesthetic
destiny to play the clown. But one cannot categorise his career as a
downward spiral from Everyone's Gone To The Moon onwards. In fact, he
has sold 40 million records. He's had a hand in almost every musical
movement since the mid-1960s - psychedelic, novelty bubblegum pop,
alternative pop, Eurovision, the Bay City Rollers, 10CC, the Rocky
Horror Show, Genesis, Carter The Unstoppable Sex Machine, the Brit
awards, and so on.
Within two years of leaving Cambridge, he was running Decca Records for
Sir Edward Lewis, with his own West End offices and a Rolls-Royce parked
outside. "Genesis," he once said, "would have become accountants and
lawyers if I hadn't heard their concealed and budding musical talent
when they were 15 years old."
He is at once seen to be the quintessential Broadway Danny Rose - the
buffoonish loser who was forever nearly making it - and also a powerful
multi-millionaire whose influence is as incalculable as it is
overlooked. He's hosted radio shows in New York and London, presented
the successful and long-running Entertainment USA TV series for the BBC,
written two novels, created a political party - the Royalists - and
published The Tip Sheet, an influential online industry magazine that,
he claims, is responsible for bringing the Spice Girls, Oasis, Blur,
Prodigy, R Kelly, and others "exploding on to musical success. We find
and help break new stars around the world."
In 1997, he was honoured with a lifetime achievement award by the Music
Industry Trust. In a letter read out at the ceremony, Tony Blair
acknowledged King's "important contribution to one of this country's
great success stories". A galaxy of stars - Peter Gabriel, Ozzy
Osbourne, Simon Bates - came out to praise him, although no galaxy of
stars is willing to do the same now that he's been accused of
paedophilia.
Nonetheless, he seems to delight in being the man we love to hate
(theatrically speaking: he is mortified when he thinks his arresting
officers really do hate him). "I love to infuriate," Jonathan told me
over coffee in his office, shortly before the trial began. "I
deliberately set out to irritate."
"Of course," I said, "should you be convicted, people will hate you in a
very different way. This is not a good climate in which to be accused of
paedophilia."
"Well," he shrugged, "it's not as though I'm sitting here thinking, 'Oh
I'm such a nice person. Will everybody please be nice to me.'
I know I tend to provoke extreme reactions, so I'm not at all surprised
when they arrive."
There was a short silence.
"So you see what's happening now as a continuation of your public
image?" I asked him.
"Absolutely," said Jonathan. "And it is so. And it would be absurd not
to regard it as so."
"But there's a difference between bringing out a novelty record that
nobody likes and being accused of buggering an underage boy," I said.
There was another silence. "Let's not discuss it further," he said.
September 11, day two of the trial, and things are already looking
hopeless for Jonathan King. The first victim - now a painter and
decorator from the suburbs of north London - takes the stand. I'll call
him David. Jonathan approached David in Leicester Square when David was
14 or 15. Although David had no idea who Jonathan was, he quickly told
him he was famous. "It was exciting," says David.
Jonathan gave David the questionnaire, the one that ranked boys' hobbies
in order of preference. He filled it out. Jonathan invited him back to
his house and asked him if he and his friends masturbated together.
Jonathan showed him pornographic movies on a cine projector. "We were
talking about masturbation," says David. "He told me to relax. He undid
my trousers. He tried to masturbate me, which didn't arouse me at all.
He told me to do it myself, which I proceeded to do. I felt very
awkward."
David returned to King's house on three occasions. Similar indecent
assaults occurred each time. Later, Jonathan wrote David a series of
letters. "He made it sound like I would be famous," says David. The
prosecuting barristor asks David to read one of these letters to the
jury. "'Maybe you will go on to be a megastar. Now I am in New York. I
will call you when I next hit town. In the meantime, keep tuning in on
Wednesday at 9pm for Entertainment USA, the greatest TV show in the
world.'"
David says that Jonathan King has emotionally scarred him for life. He
says he cannot hold children. He says it makes him scared and
uncomfortable to hold and play with his girlfriend's little boy.
After lunch Ron Thwaites, Jonathan's defence barrister, begins his cross
examination of David. His tone is breathtakingly abrasive. "We are going
back 16 years because you decided not to make the complaint until nine
months ago," he says. "You're not asking for sympathy for that, are
you?"
"I was the one that was assaulted," David replies, shakily.
"Do you think it's easy for a man to be accused of a crime after 20
years," says Thwaites. And then: "Are you interested in money?"
"I am nervous up here," says David. "You are putting me under pressure.
I was sexually assaulted by that man over there."
"You must have been fairly grown up to go to London on your own," says
Ron Thwaites. "You can't have been a boy in short trousers, crying for
your mother."
And so on.
We are unaware that, during this cross examination, New York and
Washington DC are under attack. That night, I receive an email from
Jonathan: "Makes whether or not I put my hand on a teenager's knee 15
years ago seem rather trivial, doesn't it? Are you dropping KING for the
World Trade Centre? Boo hoo!
"What do you think of the jury? A lot of ethnic variation which,
I think, is probably a good thing. Not Ron's best day, but not terminal!
See you tomorrow. Love JK."
A week later, Jonathan posts an extraordinary message on his website,
kingofhits.com: "Well, it's been a fascinating couple of weeks. Not many
people are fortunate to discover first hand exactly what Oscar Wilde
went through! This week is the crucial one for me - keep praying. And
just one oblique thought . . . when you look at the teenagers from 15
years ago who grew up to be terrorists who killed thousands in America,
wonder what changed them into mass murderers. Then wonder what turns
other decent teenagers into mass liars." Of course, they didn't turn out
to have been lying.
King's demeanour remains cheerful throughout our time together. "I am
living in clouds and happy flowers and love and beauty," he tells me one
day. "And if I go to prison, I shall enjoy myself."
Even on the one occasion that Jonathan all but confesses to me - "I'm
sure you've got skeletons in your own closet, Jon. 'Honest guv! I
thought she was 16!'" - he says it with a spirited laugh.
When the Guardian's photographer takes Jonathan's portrait early one
morning before a day in court, he is frustrated to report that during
almost every shot Jonathan stuck his thumbs up - as if he was doing a
Radio 1 publicity session - or grinned his famous, funny, lop-sided grin
into the camera. This was not the image anyone wanted. We were hoping
for something more revealing, sadder, perhaps, or even something that
said "child sex", or "guilty". But Jonathan wouldn't oblige.
One day during the trial, I hear a story about Larry Parnes, Britain's
first pop mogul. He discovered Tommy Steele and Marty Wilde. Like many
of the great British impresarios back then, he based his business
judgements on his sexual tastes. "If I am attracted to Tommy Steele," he
would tell his associates, "teenage girls will be, too." Parnes's West
End flat was often full of teenage boys hoping to be chosen as his next
stars. If he liked the look of them, he'd give them a clean white
T-shirt. Once he'd had sex with them, he'd make them take off the white
T-shirt and put on a black one.
Wham!'s manager Simon Napier-Bell - who was once invited by Parnes to
put on a white T-shirt - has said that the great difference between the
British and American pop industries is this: the American impresarios
are traditionally driven by money, while their British counterparts were
historically driven by gay sex, usually with younger boys - and that
British pop was conceived as a canvas upon which older gay svengalis
could paint their sexual fantasies, knowing their tastes would be shared
by the teenage girls who bought the records. I wonder if the pop
impresarios who seduced young teenage boys at the Walton Hop saw
themselves not as a paedophile ring, but as the continuance of a
venerable tradition.
Deniz Corday is desperately worried that the Walton Hop, his life's
work, is about to become famous for something terrible. "Jonathan didn't
want me to talk to you," he says, "but I must defend the Hop with all my
life." Deniz is immensely proud of the Hop. There is Hop memorabilia all
over his flat, including a poster from a Weybridge Museum exhibition,
"The Happy Hop Years 1958 - 1990. An Exhibition About Britain's First
Disco: The Walton Hop".
"Every day, someone comes up to me in the supermarket," says Deniz, "and
says, 'Thank you, Deniz, for making my childhood special.' Some say the
Hop was the first disco in Great Britain. It was terribly influential.
Oh dear . . ." Deniz sighs. "This kind of thing can happen in any disco.
The manager can't control everything."
Deniz says that he knows it looks bad. Yes, an unusually large number of
convicted celebrity paedophiles used to hang around backstage at the
Walton Hop. But, he says, they weren't there to pick up boys. They were
there to conduct market research. "Tam Paton would play all the latest
Roller acetates and say, 'Clap for the one you like the best'. Same as
Jonathan and Chris Denning. It helped them in their work."
Deniz turns out the lights and gets out the super-8 films he shot over
the years at his club. Here's the Hop in 1958. Billy Fury played there.
The teenagers are all in suits, dancing the hokey-cokey. "Suits!" laughs
Deniz, sadly.
The years tumble by on the super-8 films. Now it's the mid-1970s. Here's
Jonathan at the turntables. He's playing disco records, announcing the
raffle winners and grinning his lop-sided grin into Deniz's super-8
camera. He's wearing his famous multi-coloured afro wig.
Now, on the super-8, two young girls are on stage at the Hop, miming to
King's song, Johnny Reggae. "These were the days before karaoke,"
explains Deniz.
For a while, we watch the girls on the stage mime to Johnny Reggae. It
turns out that Jonathan wrote it about a boy called John he met at the
Walton Hop who was locally famous for his reggae obsession. David Jeremy
- the prosecutor at the Old Bailey - says that Jonathan's "market
research" was simply a ploy, his real motive being to engage the boys in
conversations about sex. But I imagine that the two endeavours were, in
Jonathan's mind, indistinguishable. I picture Jonathan in the shadows,
backstage at the Hop, taking all he could from the teenagers he
scrutinised - consuming their ideas, their energy, their tastes, and
then everything else.
The super-8s continue in Deniz's living room. Here's Jonathan again, in
1983, backstage at the Hop. He's put on weight. He doesn't know the
camera is on him. He's holding court to a group of young boys and girls
on a sofa. You can just make out little snippets of conversation over
the noise of the disco. He chews on a toothpick, looks down at a piece
of paper, turns to a boy and says, "Who's phone number is this?"
He spots the camera. "It's Deniz Corday!" he yells. "Look who it is!
Deniz Corday! Smile at the camera!" He lifts up his T-shirt and Deniz
zooms in on his chest.
"In 32 years," says Deniz, "we never had one complaint about Jona-than
and young boys, and suddenly, after 32 years, all these old men,
grandfathers some of them, come forward and say they've been sexually
abused and it's been bothering them all their lives. I think there's
something deeply suspicious about it. Jonathan's a really nice guy and
definitely not a paedophile. Anyway, I think it should be reworded. I
think a paedophile should be someone who goes with someone under 13."
The clothes and hairstyles change as the decades roll past on the
super-8s, but the faces of the 13- to 18-year-olds remain the same. They
are young and happy. Deniz says that, nowadays, we have an absurdly
halcyon image of childhood. He says that the youngsters at the Walton
Hop were not fragile little flowers. They were big and tough and they
could look after themselves. He rifles through his drawer and produces
some of the police evidence statements. He reads me some excerpts.
"'There was a crate of Coca-Cola kept backstage, and it was people like
Jonathan King and Corday who hung around there. If you were invited back
there you would get a free coke with a shot of whiskey.'"
Deniz pauses. "Now how ridiculous can you get? I'm going to give the
kids of the Hop a shot of whiskey with a coke?" There is a silence.
"Well," he says quietly. "If I gave them a little bit of whisky once in
a while, they're not going to put me in jail for it. I used to call it
'coke with a kick'. Anyway, we're not talking about me. We're talking
about Jonathan. Have you heard of any charges against me?"
"No," I say.
"Exactly," says Deniz. "This is about Jonathan. Not about me."
Deniz continues to read. The victim making the statement describes life
at the Walton Hop and how Jonathan - a regular visitor - once went out
of his way to talk to him. "'I was obviously excited to be talking to
Jonathan King. He offered to give me a lift home, which I accepted. This
was the first of many lifts King gave me, and I recall that he always
drove me home in a white convertible Rolls-Royce. It was an automatic
car and the number plate was JK9000. We talked about music, and he often
told me that he needed a young person's point of view. King drove me
home on a couple of occasions before he eventually assaulted me. The
first assault occurred at a car park, which was situated on the
left-hand side of the Old Woking Road. Next to the car park was a field
and a wooded area. King seemed familiar with the location. I believe he
had been there before. I was sat in the front passenger seat and King
was in the driver seat. I noticed that King had started shaking, and I
presumed that he needed the toilet.'"
Deniz laughs. "Well, you can laugh occasionally," he says. He continues
to read. "'He then leant over to where I was sat. To my horror he
started pulling at my trousers. He wrenched my trousers open and he just
went for it.'"Deniz reads the statement with mock, burlesque horror.
"'He had his face in my lap and he was performing oral sex on me by
putting his mouth around my penis. I was so shocked.'"
Deniz looks up. "He doesn't say if he had an erection!" he laughs.
"'After a while he stopped performing oral sex on me, and although my
penis was erect I did not ejaculate. I then noticed that King had his
trousers undone with his penis exposed and he started masturbating
himself. I remember looking out of the window and contemplating walking
home. I did not because I just hoped that once he was done he would drop
me home. King eventually came and he then drove me home. I didn't want
Jonathan to tell Deniz what had happened, because I thought he'd want to
do the same thing.'
"No thanks, mate," says Deniz, before carrying on with the statement.
"'I felt sick and ashamed about what he had done to me, and
I remember looking in the mirror the next day and wondering if you could
see what had happened in my face. The second assault on me by King took
place near the car park which had been previously described. This time
he buggered me . . . Once at the location, we got out of the car and he
then led me about 15 yards to a dip in a wooded area. King led me by
placing one hand on the back on my neck and the other on my arm. King
was shaking. King then took my trousers and underwear down. He then
forced his penis inside my anus and penetrated me. I would describe King
as frantic at the time. He was totally uncaring. I honestly believe if I
had said no, he would have forced me. King had his underwear and
trousers down by his ankles and he used no lubrication. I can also say
that he did not have a huge penis.'"
Deniz laughs. "I'm glad to hear that, mate!" he says. "'Although he was
rough, it was not painful. I was in a state of shock. King eventually
came inside of me and it was all very quick. Not only did I wash that
night, but I constantly washed myself that week. I hated what he had
done to me and I felt dirty. It may be that King grabbed some of my
hair, because for about a week I washed my hair everyday which was most
unlike me. I even remember my dad making some comment about me using so
much shampoo. The third time King assaulted me was . . ."
Deniz looks up angrily. "How many times do you have to go back before
you decide that you don't like being fucked?"
"Mmm," I say.
"Does it take three sexual experiences for you to realise it was
bothering you?" says Deniz.
The third time King assaulted me was, again, following a lift home from
the Hop. This time it did hurt and I told him that, but he did not stop.
I even asked him if he used Vaseline, and he replied, 'Oh no, you'll do
with spit.' It all happened very fast, and he was very surgical and
physical. I would also like to add that King never kissed me or showed
me any affection. Many years later, I attended the Brit Awards, and
while I was there I saw Jonathan King. On seeing me, he gave me a long
stare and then walked away. I believe he is dangerous and I want to stop
it happening to other children.'"
Deniz looks up, in fury, from the evidence statement. "He wasn't a
child!" he says.
"How old was he?" I say.
"Fifteen," says Deniz.
In the end, Jonathan is acquitted of this particular charge. The victim
admits on the witness stand that he was probably 16 when he knew
Jonathan, and the prosecution can't prove that the sex was
non-consensual. While there is no statute of limitations for underage
sex - or for sexual assaults - a 16-year-old who has had consensual sex
with an adult must, by law, complain within a year of the offence for
the adult to be tried. This boy waited 23 years, which is why his case
is abandoned.
The day after I see Deniz, I receive an email: "Hope you'll remember
Deniz is not quite as worldly wise as others - don't hurt him. JK."
I always find it hard to look Jonathan in the eye after hearing some
detailed recital of his sexual behaviour. But I wonder whether any act
of sex, when described with such pornographic precision, would sound
equally unpleasant. The evidence Deniz read me constitutes probably the
most serious charge of all 16 complaints, and even it is not as black
and white as one might like. Why, for instance, did the victim return on
three occasions?
I would like to ask Jonathan his views on the intricacies of these
sexual power-plays, but he professes his innocence so adamantly that he
won't be drawn on the subject. I do, however, ask another of his
victims, Nick McMeier, these questions. One morning in November,
I sit in Nick's flat in Kingston, Surrey, and he shows me some of the
presents Jonathan bought him during their time together. "Whenever I
visited, I'd end up with two or three records," says Nick. "So
I guess you can calculate how many times I visited him on that basis."
I look at the pile of records. "There must be 30 or 40 records here," I
say. "Or more."
"And he gave a copy of his book, Bible 2," says Nick. "And a guitar. And
a biography of Edie Sedgewick."
Jonathan also took Nick on trips - to the Walton Hop, for instance, and
to Deniz's house, although nothing happened there. He gave him driving
lessons in his TR7 in the car park of Chessington World Of Adventure.
"It sounds like he thought that the two of you
were having a relationship," I say, "that he wasn't your abuser, he was
your boyfriend."
"I don't know," says Nick. "He enjoyed being assertive. He was never
particularly shy about name-dropping or describing just how famous he
was." Nick laughs. "There was one occasion where we were in his
Rolls-Royce in London and he pulled out in front of somebody and they
beeped him and he turned round and said, 'Do you mind? There's a famous
person here!' And we carried on driving. It made me laugh at the time
because it was true. He was a famous person."
"Do you think that if you'd stopped being star-struck, he would have
lost interest in you?" I ask.
"Yes," says Nick.
Nick is 34, and very good looking. He tells me how they first met. He
was between 14 and 16 - he can't exactly remember - and he was cycling
home from Richmond Park when Jonathan King pulled over in his
Rolls-Royce and asked him directions to Kingston bypass.
"I gave him the directions and then he said, 'Do you know who I am?'
Actually, no. He said, 'You do realise who I am?' And I said, 'Yeah. I
do.' I tried to act as unstar-struck as I possibly could."
As they stood there on the road, Jonathan asked Nick to phone the BBC
and tell them just how much he enjoyed his TV shows and could they
please commission more from him. Nick agreed, although he never did
phone. They swapped phone numbers and Jonathan called several weeks
later and invited him to his flat. "We listened to some records, had a
bit of a chat. He showed off his mirrored toilet. He said, 'Take a look
in there, it's pretty impressive.' So I went in there and was duly
impressed. And that was pretty much it."
This was the only time that no sex took place. On every other occasion,
Jonathan buggered Nick. He was always gentle, says Nick, and would coo,
comfortingly.
"Why did you keep going back?" I ask.
There is a silence. "I don't really know. Well, I was getting records
every time. But I was also enjoying the sexual gratification. I wasn't
racked with guilt. At that age, you've got the hormones raging around
inside you. And I felt taken care of. I knew that wasn't how grown-ups
normally took care of children, but he had a kind of invincibility about
him. A self-assurance."
Nick's relationship with Jonathan King lasted 18 months. In the
intervening years, he has come to identify the extent of the emotional
scarring those months caused him. He has just completed six weeks of
therapy which, he says, has barely scratched the surface. "It caused a
division between my emotional side and myself," he says. "It was like I
put my emotions in a room and shut the door. It's not even something I
was aware of happening until I spoke to the police and they came to
interview me. And two days later this incredible dark cloud came over
me, like a black dog. It also bothers me quite a lot that I was lying to
my parents. He even came round one Christmas and met the whole family.
We got together a Christmas stocking for him with a pound coin in the
bottom of it and a satsuma."
Nick says that he has seen the message Jonathan posted on his website,
comparing his victims to the terrorists who attacked the World Trade
Centre. "I think he's rather a sad, impotent man," says Nick, "whose
chickens have come home to roost." He laughs. "But that's probably a
coping mechanism for myself to disenfranchise him of any power."
On day five of the trial, one of the victims says in court that Jonathan
had a blue door, when in fact his door was white. This presumably
trivial inaccuracy gives rise to the following email from Jonathan: "The
accusers have provenly lied on oath - blue front door etc. Will the CPS
prosecute them for perjury? Rather doubt it. If the verdicts are guilty,
they collect their cash from the Compensation Board . . . Is this right
or fair? A topic you may feel inclined to raise in your wonderful story.
See you later. JK"
And so on. Each time an email from Jonathan appears in my inbox, I open
it with excitement, envisaging a startling insight into his character,
or into the complex sexual relationships between older pop moguls and
young boys, but usually they're full of these red herrings.
Most of the conversations that occur in the Old Bailey canteen between
the journalists centre not on Jonathan King but on Ron Thwaites, his
extraordinary, shocking, charismatic defence barrister. "Ron could get
the Devil off," one veteran tabloid Old Bailey reporter tells me.
Before the trial even started, during the preparatory hearings in July,
Thwaites had great success in reducing the charges against his client.
"Lots of people," he said to Judge Paget, "don't enjoy sex."
Lots of people don't enjoy sex - but this doesn't mean that assaults
have been committed against them. Where's the guilty mind if the boys
appeared to acquiesce? An assailant, he argued, must know he's
committing an assault for a crime to have occurred. But there were no
protestations. Nowhere in the evidence did a boy admit to saying "No!"
or "Stop!" And if they really hated it - if it scarred them - why wait
20 years to come forward! 30 years!
David Jeremy, the prosecution barrister, argued that the look on their
faces would have suggested protestation.
Thwaites contended that if King was having anal sex with them, he
wouldn't have seen the look on their faces. Yes, said Thwaites, King
approached boys. He approached thousands of boys. "These encounters," he
said, "are the tip of the iceberg." But he did not approach them for
sex. He approached them for market research. "My client interacts with
his public," he said, "on a grand scale."
I looked over at the arresting officers. They chuckled wryly at the
words "tip of an iceberg".
Then Thwaites attacked the police, accusing them of underhand tactics.
If a complainant said he was between 14 and 16 when the assault
allegedly occurred, the police wrote that he was 14. He asked for six of
the complainants to be struck off the charge sheet, and the judge agreed
to four of them. Thwaites also asked for three trials instead of one,
for the purposes of "case management".
The prosecution, startled by this suggestion, argued that this would
harm their best evidence - the pattern of King's seduction. But,
bafflingly, Judge Paget agreed to split the trials. "Oh fuck," whispered
an arresting officer, putting his head in his hands, when the judge
announced his decision.
The unspoken assumption, shared by all parties, was that there would
never be three trials. The prosecution was likely to throw in the hat
after trials one or two, whatever the outcome. So the preparatory
hearing turned out to be a great victory for King and Thwaites.
Every day, in the Old Bailey, Ron Thwaites launches another merciless
attack on anybody he can think of who is not his client. The victims are
"cranks" who "came out of the woodwork" seeking "compensation." This
includes one who cried in the witness box. "Crocodile tears!" he snarls.
Others are "drug addicts and fantasists and liars". One is "completely
mad".
Admittedly, Thwaites does have something of a point here. One of the
victims, Chris Sealey, admits within five minutes of cross-examination
that he sees black cats that nobody else can see and thinks that Gypsies
are going to come to his house to rip out his throat. Chris also admits
that he came forward solely for the money. He hopes to sell his story to
a newspaper. (He does: to the Sunday People, embellishing his testimony
with extraordinary relish.)
Chris's argument is, "So what?" Jonathan King got something out of him,
so why shouldn't he get something out of Jonathan King?
Thwaites even brings me into the mix at one point. During his summing up
he points in my direction and says to the jury, "I cannot prove that
there is a contract in which [the complainants] have agreed to appear on
TV or in the newspapers . . ."
His implication seems to be that the Ronson-Victim financial pact is so
cunning that the poor, justice-seeking defence team cannot break through
its steely ramparts. The real reason why Thwaites cannot prove this
contract exists is, of course, because it doesn't (Nick does not want to
be paid for our interview), but I cannot let the jury know this. I just
have to sit there. From a distance, the game-playing between prosecution
and defence in an Old Bailey trial might seem gallant, but close up I
sometimes find it quite horrible.
But Thwaites does highlight some of the unfortunate aspects of the case.
There is no material evidence. No DNA. How can King defend himself
against crimes which occurred so long ago? "Justice delayed," says
Thwaites, "is justice denied."
Nonetheless, for all of Thwaites' mini-victories, Jonathan tells me he
has already packed his bags, all ready for a guilty verdict. He says he
has brought every book on the Booker Prize shortlist in preparation for
life in jail.
On day 10 of the trial, a defence strategy backfires alarmingly. After
days of prosecution evidence outlining the nefarious ways in which
Jonathan would make a frantic show of his celebrity status to awe his
victims into acquiescence, Thwaites plays for the jury a videotape of
the highlights of Jonathan King's career.
In the video, Jonathan is seen hosting the 1987 Brit awards and
receiving the 1997 Man Of The Year award. There are shots of him on Top
Of The Pops singing Una Paloma Blanca and Everyone's Gone To The Moon. I
have no idea why Jonathan thinks it might be a good idea to show this in
court. He is clearly trying to awe the jury in the same way that he awed
the boys. I presume that there is no grand scheme behind this tactic,
and that Jonathan simply wanted to show off.
It takes the jury three days to reach a verdict. The night before they
finally do, Jonathan sends me an email that reads: "Pray for me."
I don't email him back. I have grown to like Jonathan King, but he is
guilty. As likeable as he is, he did it. Perhaps there is some
homophobia in this case. Bill Wyman, after all, got away with having sex
with a younger girl. Is it unfair, as Jonathan claims, that his inital
high-profile arrest was simply a way for the police to advertise for
more victims to come forward? Most observers agree that the prosecution
would never have secured a conviction with the intial complainants'
allegations, and that the police were hoping for more reliable witnesses
to come forward. Is it unfair, or clever policework?
I don't see Jonathan in the canteen or the lobby on the day of the
verdict, but I do see him in the dock, as the jury files in. He smiles
at me. Every male juror makes a point of looking at Jonathan as they
take their seats. The women all look away. The clerk of the court asks
the foreman for the verdict on the first count, and he says, "Guilty".
Jonathan nods.
Then it is time for count two - the most serious charge. Buggery. This
is the charge that relates to Chris Sealey. The foreman says, "Guilty".
Jonathan nods.
There are six guilty verdicts in total. A clean sweep. Judge Paget says
that, under these circumstances, bail must be revoked. Within seconds,
Jonathan is led downstairs from the dock, and straight to Belmarsh
Prison.
The blood drains from Jonathan King's face as he is taken down. In the
very last second, as he is led through the door - the last time I see
him - he buckles and nearly falls.
Little Kellerstain, Tam Paton's large, outlandish, rural bungalow near
Edinburgh airport, his home for 27 years, give or take his 12 months in
jail for child sex offences and the years travelling the world in Lear
jets and limousines with his young charges, the Bay City Rollers, is
noisy today. You imagine it to have always been a noisy place. Indeed,
the old neighbours, the now dead rich couple who lived next door at the
grand Kellerstain House, used to complain bitterly about their
eccentric, legendary, pop impresario neighbour, the packs of screaming
Roller fans forever camped outside his electric gates, the parties, the
teams of police officers searching his house for clues of paedophile
activity, and then more screaming - the screams of the headlines:
"Sordid Secrets of Twisted Tam", "Tam's Night in the Sauna with the
Boys"'.
Today, the place is noisy with dogs and boys. The dogs are rottweilers.
There are four of them, and they seem to hate each other. There are
about half-a-dozen boys living with Tam. They live in spare rooms and in
caravans in the garden. They are all around 18 years old. Tam is 63 now.
He is polite to a fault, almost humble. It is as if the years of being
considered a paedophile, a pervert, have reduced him to a position of
constant subservience around strangers. The Tam Paton of today is
nothing like the fearsome svengali you would see on television during
the Roller years.
I have come to see Paton because of the similarities in his and Jonathan
King's crimes. They were friends and colleagues, and would visit the Hop
together. Like Jonathan, the boys Paton "indecently assaulted" were not
that young. The youngest was 15. I know that it will take Jonathan years
to settle into his new role in life as a convicted celebrity paedophile.
Paton has had 20 years to do this. So I imagine that meeting him will be
like meeting Jonathan in the future.
"I was jailed for six years for underage sex," says Tam. "Underage sex.
Under the age of 21. This was 1981. I served a year. My victims were . .
. one was 15. I never even touched him. There was nothing physical in
that particular charge. The chap was deaf and he had a speech
impediment. He came to my house and he saw a pornographic movie, a
heterosexual pornographic movie."
"What was it called?" I ask.
'Tina With The Big Tits," says Tam. "This happened right here in this
very room. It was all to do with women's boobs. Big boobs. All sizes of
boobs. And he'd had two lagers. The charges that were raised against me
was that I'd subjected a 15-year-old handicapped boy to pornographic
movies and supplied him with stupefying alcohol with intent to pervert
and corrupt. I got six months right there for that."
Tam takes me to the scene of more of his crimes - his sauna room. It was
built in the 1970s, in what used to be his utility room. He turns on the
Jacuzzi. It bubbles into life. "I got six months for putting
my hand on a guy's leg in the sauna," says Tam. "And then I got another
two years for a chap who willingly came up here. He was 16, educated, a
nice guy. He came up in a taxi. I gave him a bottle of Lambrusco."
Of course, the stigma of being imprisoned for underage sex crimes
remains with Tam to this day. Just last week, one of his friends - who
has a three-month-old baby - was visited by social services and warned
that the baby should be kept away from Tam Paton. "A tiny little baby!"
says Tam. "People look at me like I'm an animal. People who don't know
me judge me. I always remember going up to visit someone in prison, and
this woman was sitting there. She was looking at me, growling a bit, and
I could imagine what she was thinking: 'There's a paedophile!' Anyway, I
later discovered about her character. And I'll tell you, it outweighed
anything I'd ever done."
"What had she done?" I asked.
"Shoplifting," says Tam.
There is a silence.
"Oh," I say.
"People have their own little guilt trips," says Tam. "They look around.
'Who's a beast? Who's a paedo?' Now it's on my record for the rest of my
life. If I want to go into business, I have to state that
I was done for lewd and libidinous. Gross indecency. People think, 'Oh
my God! He must have been crawling about in a nursery'."
"Can I ask about the boys who live here?" I say. "What do they do?"
"They clean up," he replies, a little sharply. "They feed the dogs. They
take them for walks. They help me with my property business. They are 18
years of age, and I don't have a relationship with them. You can
interview them until the cows come home. Maybe I just like nice people
floating about. We don't have orgies. There's no swinging from the
chandeliers."
There is a silence.
"Even if there was," he adds, "it would be legal."
Tam believes he was targeted because of his fame, because he was a
celebrity svengali. He blames his arrest, then, on the pop business. And
now he is out of it. He has become a property millionaire, with 40 flats
in Edinburgh's West End. "I do get myself upset," he says. "I've given
away all the Roller albums to charity. I want to forget it all. I've had
two heart attacks. And now the same thing's happening with Jonathan. A
fox hunt. Everyone wants to see the death of the fox. They would never
have gone after us if we were heterosexual. But if you're a poof, my
God."
I change the subject.
"Do you think you have emotionally scarred any of the boys for life?" I
ask.
Tam looks startled - as if he's never considered this possibility
before. "Oh my God," he says. "I hope not."
In mid-October 2001, I have coffee with Jonathan King's brother, Andy.
He's just visited Jonathan in Belmarsh for the first time. "How is
Jonathan doing?" I ask.
"Great," says Andy. "He seems really cheerful. Talking 10 to a dozen."
"Really?" I ask.
"He's wearing pink pyjamas as a silent protest," Andy tells me.
"He says it's aesthetically reminiscent of the way gays were treated
under the Nazis."
On November 20, things take a turn for the better for Jonathan. He is
acquitted of buggery and indecent assault in the second trial - the
witness admits on the stand that he was 16 and not 15. The Crown
Prosecution Service announces that same day that it won't proceed with
any more trials - this includes the allegations from boys who said
Jonathan King had picked them up at the Walton Hop. The next morning,
Jonathan is sentenced to seven years. Judge Paget says that the case is
a tragedy. This otherwise honourable man, he says, this successful
celebrity, used and abused his fame and success to attract
impressionable teenagers. But there was no violence, no threats used.
Jonathan smiles and nods as he is sentenced. One journalist says that he
looks smug; another says that he looks pale and beaten. His name is
placed indefinitely on the sex offenders' list. The police say he may
have abused hundreds of boys over the past 30 years. King's defence team
say that they will now consider appealing.
BLIND 321
I would be happy with a signed bookplate or two for my recently acquired
1st's of Dancing and Blood. >>
Would that make them less valuable than having the signature on the page?
KS
BLIND 321
issued to all RAMmers attending Bouchercon in Austin - as long as they can
prove they're in legal possession of at least one of my books. >>
Does it count if you sent us the copy???
KS, loves a good bookmark
Stephen Booth
Only if I obtained legally myself - which you could never know for sure.
Steve
Gina Metz
<st...@stephen-booth.com> writes:
>Okay, okay. Free pens, keyrings, coasters and bookmarks will be officially
>issued to all RAMmers attending Bouchercon in Austin - as long as they can
>prove they're in legal possession of at least one of my books.
>
I guess I won't be getting any freebies. No way I'll make it to Austin.
Gina :-(
(Stuck in WV with an unemployed hubby and boss from hell)
Gina Metz
<blue...@mindspring.com> writes:
>
>>> Dot Williams wrote:
>>> > Mmmm. Black Dog, That title is interesting. <
>>>
>>> I can see you're tempted, Dot. What can I do to swing it? Free pen?
>>Keyring?
>>> Signed bookplate?
>>>
>>> Steve
>>
>>
>>pssssssssst Dot -- hold out for a "Booth's Sleuths" t-shirt -- I think
>>they're the next big fashion statement!
>>
>>Beth (wants one)
>>
><ppssssssst Beth> I got the book and nuttin else.
><hand sweeping up to forehead>--where did I go wrongggggg.
>B.
>
>
>
I really think that title sounds interesting too.
Gina :-)
(stashing new copy of the book out of sight)
Sarah Weinman
What about pens? Like the nudie pens that were making the rounds at BCon
last year.....
Sarah
Sarah Weinman
news:e9e24a2df0347b9d02f...@mygate.mailgate.org
>
> > "Sarah Weinman" <sa...@weinmans.com> wrote in message
> > news:484eb54018de68b4a32...@mygate.mailgate.org
> >
> > > >
> > > OMG, Yikes Ali!!!!
> > >
> > > I should see if the book's got a UK deal. Man. I'm speechless.
> > >
> > > Sarah
> >
>
> THE 'OTHER JONATHON KING'
>
[major snippage]
Different spelling, thank god--US author has the extra O, UK dude does
not.
But still. People would be bound to get confused....
Sarah
No Doze
How about if I bring pictures of them on my shelf and headboard???
Jon
--
_________________________________________________________
book reviews----
http://www.booksnbytes.com/reviews/_idx_jj_all_byname.html
Mystery Author Interviews----
http://www.mysteryone.com/interviews.htm
http://www.booksnbytes.com/author_interviews.html
Ramblings and thinking outloud----
http://www.booksnbytes.com/jon_jordan/index.html
Also in---
http://www.shotsmag.co.uk/
__________________________________________________________
J&J
> How about if I bring pictures of them on my shelf and headboard???
> Jon
I've already seen pics of Ruth
They were on the pen
Stephen Booth
Joyleen Seymour
Joy
CrimeBks
>THE 'OTHER JONATHON KING'
>I should see if the book's got a UK deal.
Well, Orion decided to take a chance on him, cos I saw it listed in the subs
for August! Read the blurb they put in the catalogue and they haven't said 'um,
this isn't the Jonathan King, you know, but an American bloke who has nothing
to do with using his so-called celebrity to seduce young men'. Must have
decided to let it lie.
Thalia
Dot Williams
> > Mmmm. Black Dog, That title is interesting. <
>
> I can see you're tempted, Dot. What can I do to swing it? Free pen? Keyring?
> Signed bookplate?
>
> Steve
>
Just to let you know.
The bookstore called and said my special order of Black Dog is in. The
book store owner is a friend of mine; never hurts to have friends in
the right places. She told me she started reading it and almost
didn't call me.
(She does this alot, a way of letting me know she like my book
choices).
I look forward to reading it while enjoying some time off for the
holiday weekend, and eating a new scone recipe I've found.
(OT)I posted a new scone recipe today as a WOT post.
Take a look if you like.
Thanks,
Dot
J&J
> Just to let you know.
> The bookstore called and said my special order of Black Dog is in. The
> book store owner is a friend of mine; never hurts to have friends in
> the right places. She told me she started reading it and almost
> didn't call me.
> (She does this alot, a way of letting me know she like my book
> choices).
> I look forward to reading it while enjoying some time off for the
> holiday weekend, and eating a new scone recipe I've found.
> (OT)I posted a new scone recipe today as a WOT post.
> Take a look if you like.
> Thanks,
> Dot
You are in for a real treat Dot!
Black Dog is fabulous, great characters and wonderful locale
descriptions.
The goats are cool and Stephen Booth is so dang cute.
judi
Carol Schwaderer Dickinson
> > > I read just about anything except British or Historical.
The Quilter's Apprentice - Jennifer Chiaverini
Cha Cha Cha - Jane Heller
Crewel World - Monica Ferris
Innkeeping with Murder - Tim Meyers
Inner Passages - Carl Brookins
The Death of Cousin Rose - Jonathan Harrington
Murder Under Blue Skies - Scott Willard
Mulch - Ann Ripley
Death Brims Over - Barbara Jaye Wilson
Big Trouble - Dave Barry
Murder on Astor Place - Victoria Thompson
Fade to Black - Della Borton
Veiled Threats - Deborah Donnelly
Murder with Peacocks - Donna Andrews
The Story Knife - Father Brad Reynolds, S.J.
Historicals but try one anyway, and you might find a gem and change your
mind, I promise not a one of these has anything to do with Victorian
manners or tea and crumpets
A Freeman of Color - Barbara Hambly
Faded Coat of Blue - Owen Parry
The Apothacary Rose - Candace Robb, also set in Britain
Whispers of the River - Tom Hron
The Case of Cabin 13 - Sam McCarver
To Sheild the Queen - Fiona Buckley
Murder at Bent Elbow - Kate Bryan
Carol
who mostly reads cozies
Carol Schwaderer Dickinson
>
> << 'Sleepyhead' is British, and 'Unnatural Fire' is British AND Historical.
> Apart from that, it's a shame to miss them! >>
>
> Do you really think of it as being historical? I loved the book, and I
> honestly think of it as crime fiction than historical. I hate the historical
> label anyway, because it makes the book seem like something an old lady would
> read over her knitting with a bunch of cats around her (not that that's a bad
> thing, Carol).
Sounds icky to me. This sounds like a great description of the romantic
historical. I'm not much into that type of book. One thing I like about
the historical mystery is that the angst ridden romantic link with the
female sleuth and the male cop type is not mandatory and usually
missing.
And cats ain't my thing. Very few of the cozys I read have the cats in
them. For those that do, they are cats not detectives.
Carol
Carol Schwaderer Dickinson
>
> Fran Read wrote:
>
> > Punished? Does someone need punishing? He can come and help me
> > repair/redecorate my bathroom!
> > Carol
>
> If the exploding pants will be around, count me in
>
> I've been very bad
>
> Jane Haddam
Opportunities are still available.
the REAL Carol
Dot Williams
I'll try any mystery genre at least once, maybe twice...
I just finished Child's Killing Floor, I will read his next!
I'll be sure to try at least one or two of the historicals.
Right now, thank's to a suggestion here, I've started Booth's Black
Dog.
I may just have found a new vein of British mysteries that make me not
forget Agatha and Homes, but at least not compare a British
author/book to them. Have you ever read an author you enjoyed and then
felt you had a terrible time finding something new that satisfied you?
Myer's next book, Reservations (of?) Murder is due out anytime. And
another due next summer. It'll be interesting to see what Reservations
is like.
Thanks again,
DW
Carol Schwaderer Dickinson
> felt you had a terrible time finding something new that satisfied you?
Quite frequently before I started hanging around here. First time was
when I was still in high school and I felt I'd read just about
everything interesting in our very small town library.
Sometimes I find a really fabulous author and find out they haven't
written anything else. Somehow Sharon Kay Penman got by me. I read "Here
be Dragons" and loved it, but she fell off my "keep looking for more"
list and when I found her again 20 years later she'd written a whole
bunch more.
Carol
Dot Williams
invented inter-library book loans just so I'd have something new to
read.
I believe there were times I knew where books were located in that
library just as well as the librarian did.
DW
************
Carol Schwaderer Dickinson <dd...@alaska.net> wrote in message news:<3CF9E3...@alaska.net>...
> Have you ever read an author you enjoyed and then
> > felt you had a terrible time finding something new that satisfied you?
>
> Quite frequently before I started hanging around here. First time was
> when I was still in high school and I felt I'd read just about
> everything interesting in our very small town library.
>
...
>
> Carol