The One True Barbecue

What I try to do with reviews at this Bookshelf blog is keep it simple and spoiler-free, and let you know whether I'd recommend you pick up a copy of what I just read. Seems to work okay. This time, a brief review of The One True Barbecue: Fire, Smoke, and the Pitmasters Who Cook the Whole Hog (Touchstone, 2016).


Some of you may know that my wife and I have been writing a travel and food blog called Marie, Let's Eat! regularly since 2010. It gets updated a whole lot more frequently than this one, anyway. We don't do "restaurant reviews" in it, we just share stories of our experiences eating in wonderful places, and one thing that I enjoy doing is looking around for other blog posts about the restaurant we've just featured, and maybe send a little traffic in the direction of some blog posts so that our readers may get additional information and see more photos about the place.

In 2014, I visited a really good, and really popular place in Shelby NC called Red Bridges Barbecue Lodge, and I think that's when I discovered a great blog called The Barbecue Bus, written by Rien Fertel and illustrated with some downright stunning photography by Denny Culbert. The pictures are such a sore point with me. I have been able to persuade myself that my writing is not awful, and in fact it's occasionally pretty good, but nothing makes me more envious than somebody with better photographic equipment, training, and talent than me. Culbert's photos for their story on Red Bridges led me to read all of the short-lived blog - it covers tours through North Carolina in 2011-2012 - and I found myself triply envious. I wish I could shoot as well as Culbert, I wish I could write as well as Fertel, and I wish somebody'd sponsor me to spend a month or ten on the road doing their jobs.

Fertel's particular passion is whole hog cooking, which is typically associated with eastern North Carolina. As I've come to learn, that doesn't mean "the eastern half of the state," it means the region east of I-95 and north of Fayetteville. It's farmland, chiefly, with a few small cities, a big USAF base, and lots of old one-horse towns. In most of the south, barbecue places will typically smoke pork shoulders, but in this region, the whole hog is used, smoked low and slow, and served with a lightly-seasoned vinegar dip.

It's not specifically limited to this area. Fertel's new book The One True Barbecue - part travelogue and part memoir, very much a first-person narrative - introduced me to some other places and regions where whole hog cooking can still be found, such as Scott's-Parker's Barbecue in Lexington TN. It discusses the curious contradiction of whole hog over wood in an outdoor pit slowly losing out to less expensive ways of cooking, while at the same time younger enthusiasts and entrepreneurs in cities like Asheville NC and Nolensville TN have revived the form and made it trendy.

I like it when a book makes me rethink a position. I had read Fertel's blog post about Grady's BBQ in the middle of nowhere - sort of around Dudley NC - along with Dan Levine's especially rhapsodic story at his blog BBQ Jew, and concluded that I simply must have come on an off day, because the meal that I had here in 2014 was pretty good, but nothing like these fellows described. Here, Fertel goes into even more detail about Grady's technique and history, and the sad reality that the business will not live beyond its owners, who are getting on in years. It breaks my heart that I didn't really love my meal here, since Fertel loves the place so much. I am very hopeful that I can go back one Friday this coming October. My fingers are crossed.

It's just an incredibly well-written book that talks honestly about history and family, poverty and economics, race and difficulty. Fertel spends a lot of time with pitmasters and packs in the detail. There are some great stories here. You will absolutely want to take a barbecue road trip yourself with this book at your side. Even if you can't get to a whole hog place, this book will make for absolutely fine reading at any table that serves pork with any kind of sauce.

He also, sensibly, doesn't give himself the opportunity to piss me off like Robb Walsh did by dismissing Georgia. Nobody in this state seems to cook whole hog, so there's no reason for his travelogue to take him here. Our loss. Highly, highly recommended.

(Clicking the link in the image will take you to Amazon, where you can purchase the book. A copy of this book was provided by the publisher for the purpose of review. If you'd like to see your books (typically comics or detective fiction) featured here, send me an email.)

Goldtiger

What I try to do with reviews at this Bookshelf blog is keep it simple and spoiler-free, and let you know whether I'd recommend you pick up a copy of what I just read. Seems to work okay. This time, a brief review of Goldtiger (Rebellion, 2016).


If there's a flaw at all in this very unusual and very fun "collection" - we'll explain why that's not quite the right word - of this long-lost 1960s action comic strip, it's that it might have been even more fun for me five years ago.

I used to do a blog called Reprint This!, and one of the many things that made that kind of tedious in the end - it really did feel like work - was that in making room and news for all the things that I wished to see collected in nice editions, I felt responsible for sharing news about everything else that was being collected. And everything was being collected. IDW has this line called The Library of American Comics that wants to release everything, but it's not just them; there is, or at least there was in 2009-2011, a publisher-in-waiting for every forgotten project. The Heart of Juliet Jones? King Aroo? Who buys all this stuff?

And so naturally, Antonio Barreti and Louis Shaeffer's weird, uncompleted, and rarely-published Goldtiger would finally find a new home on shelves, what with Titan publishing its ninety-ninth Modesty Blaise book, the strip that influenced Goldtiger so very, very much. It was a reaction to Blaise, at least initially, before the paper cancelled it after seeing the first six weeks of strips. It eventually found a home in Malta, but the strip got progressively weirder. Some of the strips that were printed showed Barreti throwing out Shaeffer's script and addressing the readers directly. Some, he didn't bother to finish. Some rough pencils have since been "discovered" to bridge the gaps in publication.

Guy Adams and Jimmy Broxton, who are credited with "presenting" this old strip, have included a wealth of additional material, including interviews, selections from Shaeffer's novelizations, Barreti's other artwork, all to make some sense of the material. But... well, you might have caught on to the first big wheeze about Goldtiger. It never really existed, not in our world, and it's all a fun meta game that they're playing, using '60s-styled designs and found photos to create this world.

And, because I'm not as clever as Adams and Broxton, that's about as far as I could take this kind of gag, but they take it farther and farther. There's a method and a structure to how they tell this story, and it doesn't just exist as a simply dumped "fake collection." It's an original, hidden, story that uses this format, and I've read it three times now and found new things with each read. It's absolutely charming and really, really smart. I was looking forward to this book, and, honestly, it's better than I had anticipated. Highly recommended.

(Clicking the link in the image will take you to Amazon, where you can purchase the book. A PDF of this book was provided by the publisher for the purpose of review. If you'd like to see your books (typically comics or detective fiction) featured here, send me an email.)

The New Deal

What I try to do with reviews at this Bookshelf blog is keep it simple and spoiler-free, and let you know whether I'd recommend you pick up a copy of what I just read. Seems to work okay. This time, a brief review of The New Deal (Dark Horse, 2015).


Artist Jonathan Case, who you may remember illustrating Jeff Jensen's grisly Green River Killer, dropped me a line to say that he has a new book out, one that he scripted as well. It's a very fun and incredibly detailed caper story called The New Deal, set in Depression-era New York City. Calling it "fun" may sound like a surprise when I tell you that a big chunk of the story comes from the ugly racism of the day resulting in a false accusation of theft based on nothing more than a character's skin, but the very real and casual ugliness of the characters is part of a believable and dense tapestry that our heroes bounce around.

Our hero is Frank O'Malley, a young man who's working two jobs because he owes $400 to a notable bigwig over a poker debt, but isn't actually saving any money to pay him back. His job as a bellboy at the Waldorf Astoria brings him in contact with the rich and famous and their jewels. A quick bit of work could get him out from under Jack Helmer, and he's very, very tempted. Then somebody in the hotel does engage in that very quick bit of work, and one of Frank's friends, a black maid named Theresa, is immediately accused. Frank and Theresa each suspect the other, and they're both in trouble with management for even appearing to look suspicious and tarnish the Waldorf Astoria's reputation... but if neither of them took the jeweled dog collar, pilfered from a hateful old rich lady, who did?

I really, really enjoyed reading this. Case's artwork is incredibly engaging. It's black and white with spot blue shading, and it looks like he had a ball designing all the clothes for his huge cast, the opulent lobby of the hotel, and the surrounding city streets. The story is unpredictable, yet mostly believable. I was smiling ear-to-ear wondering what Jack Helmer was up to, and how a beautiful troublemaker named Nina Booth was going to impact Frank and Theresa's troubles, especially when Nina takes a shine to Theresa and saves her job.

Overall, this is a terrific book, and clearly a real labor of love from Case. I got a kick out of the real-world setting, including a cute cameo by Orson Welles during his time working for the WPA's Federal Theatre Project. I really enjoyed Frank and Theresa's hesitant friendship, and even if Frank occasionally reminded me of a comic lead like Archie Andrews and not quite a real human, I found myself rooting for them both, even when they break the law and make a terribly bad decision to get out from under their trouble. It's a fine, fun book and comes happily recommended.

(Clicking the link in the image will take you to Amazon, where you can purchase the book. A PDF of this book was provided by the publisher for the purpose of review. If you'd like to see your books (typically comics or detective fiction) featured here, send me an email.)

Sinister Dexter: The Taking of the Michael

What I try to do with reviews at this Bookshelf blog is keep it simple and spoiler-free, and let you know whether I'd recommend you pick up a copy of what I just read. Seems to work okay. This time, a brief review of Sinister Dexter: The Taking of the Michael (Rebellion, 2016).


A little over two years ago, I raved about the return and resurrection of Sinister Dexter, and the series has not done a darn thing to reward my loyalty until now. If you're unfamiliar with this series, I covered its peaks and chasms in that review and won't go into them again. Much.

The problem is that Dan Abnett - who, in fairness, seems to be writing a dozen other stories for a dozen publishers and may not have the time to devote to keeping this series vital - often falls back on comedy and cliche in Sin Dex, and that's amusing to a point but what works best for the series is taking the protagonists dead seriously. Donald Westlake could juggle both jet-black melodrama and lighthearted capers, but he used different protagonists in his stories. Ramone and Finnigan work best when they are frighteningly efficient at their jobs, and when their jobs are really, really serious. But after that triumphant 12-week return in 2013, a handful of subsequent stories were back in the safe arms of gentle parody and mild comedy, throwing away the incredible opportunity that came with the "Witless Protection" story.

But now, oh. We're four weeks into "The Taking of the Michael," written by Abnett and illustrated by Patrick Goddard, and it's remarkable. Ray and Finny are dangerous, ruthless, and completely horrifying in a way that they're rarely depicted. In episode two of the story, one of two bent witness protection agents arranges for our heroes to be abducted in broad daylight, and that turns out to be an awfully bad error. I love the way that Goddard draws the violence. It's depicted with cold, brutal realism and just left my eyes popping.

And I am completely loving the structure of this story. It's told in flashback, as two detectives investigate the aftermath of a huge gunfight on the deck of a yacht. It belongs to longtime series villain Moses Tanenbaum. There are many bodies, many chalk outlines. Each episode opens with a few more words from their investigation, a few more clues as to what will happen as the story unfolds. We're not sure who has died, but each episode shows more of the small supporting cast meeting grisly ends before Ray and Finny even make it to the ship. The second federal agent's wallet has been found. It's possible that she's among the fatalities.

For that matter, our heroes may not have made it out of this one alive. Sure, they probably did, but if any comic in history has ever made readers genuinely question the safety of its characters, it's 2000 AD. The brutality and shock of this story is strong enough that I'm perfectly prepared to place one bet on this story quietly concluding the long-running series (almost twenty years!) with the revelation of the leads' deaths, while also placing a second bet on them making it out alive and showing up in another four-part satire next summer. Fingers crossed for the former, but whichever way, I am absolutely enjoying the daylights out of the uncertainty, and reading each episode with relish. Highly recommended.

(Clicking the link in the image will take you to 2000 AD's online shop, where you can purchase the issue that begins the story. PDFs of these issues were provided by the publisher for the purpose of review. If you'd like to see your books (typically comics or detective fiction) featured here, send me an email.)

Domestic Chic

What I try to do with reviews at this Bookshelf blog is keep it simple and spoiler-free, and let you know whether I'd recommend you pick up a copy of what I just read. Seems to work okay. This time, a brief review of Domestic Chic (Waldorf, 2015).


I have grown to really enjoy reading cookbooks. I go through them slowly and deliberately, lingering over the photography and the lists of ingredients, marking the ones that seem the most amazing and appealing with post-it notes, and hoping, occasionally with a slight bite of the lip, that Marie will play with what she found for a Sunday dinner.

I didn't get that opportunity this time. We were invited to look over an advance copy of Domestic Chic by Kristin Sollenne, a chef and nutritionist, and Marie claimed the book first. She really liked the breezy, fun, keep-it-simple attitude that Sollenne advocates, and the book vanished for several days. When I next saw it, Marie had it propped up in the kitchen one Sunday evening, prepping what turned out to be a delicious dinner of Chicken Piccata. Click that link and you can read all about it over at our food and travel blog, Marie, Let's Eat!. But wait! What about my post-it notes?!

Sollenne has worked with the New York City Restaurant Group since 2008, and currently oversees a chain called Bocca Di Bacco that specializes in southern Italian cuisine, which has three locations in that city. She's written a remarkably readable cookbook that we're certain to use for many years to come. It's broken down by seasons, with many full menus throughout to help planners arrange their meals in full, rather than pairing individual dishes from different parts of the book. That's not to say anybody's obliged to follow the menus that she's created, but it certainly makes it easier for readers who wish to.

The chicken dish that Marie prepared was really tasty, and I'm looking forward to whatever she creates next. I see that she's marked a page with Mixed Stuffed Peppers. We'll be on the road this Sunday. Maybe next?

A copy of this book was provided by the publicist for the purpose of review. If you'd like to see your books (typically comics or detective fiction) featured here, send me an email.

Helium

What I try to do with reviews at this Bookshelf blog is keep it simple and spoiler-free, and let you know whether I'd recommend you pick up a copy of what I just read. Seems to work okay. This time, a brief review of Helium (Rebellion, 2015).


One of the most interesting things that I've read recently is the latest story by Ian Edginton for 2000 AD. It's called Helium, and it launched in July with a twelve-part opening serial illustrated by D'Israeli.

Helium takes place in the future, when chemical warfare has rendered all low-lying lands poisoned by chemical warfare. Survivors built new civilizations on higher ground, above a toxic cloud that instantly kills. Three hundred years of peace and trade and progress later, and airships start disappearing. Something is active underneath that cloud, with its own technology.

Edginton does his usual job creating a unique and awesome lead heroine. Her name is Constable Hodge, and she's a no-nonsense officer who puts the safety of her community first, and, as the story unfolds, is revealed to have a pretty interesting rogue's gallery from prior arrests. She's accompanied by a very curious cyborg called Solace and there's a lot we still have to learn about him, and I can't wait. On the other hand, I was really disappointed that Edginton fell back on an old trope of having the heroine's warnings that something really needs to be investigated falling on the deaf ears of a council obsessed with orthodoxy and not wanting to cause panic. If I never read such a thing again, I'd be grateful, especially since the structure of this story would barely change if the government had said this was worth investigating.

I really enjoyed the first serial despite this, thanks in part to D'Israeli's amazing artwork. He's an artist who doesn't take shortcuts, and this time out, he gets to use a beautiful color palette. I love his designs for absolutely everything - the homes, the staircases, the cyborgs, the big floating ships, the tanks, and the lightweight aircraft. It's a gorgeous series and I can't wait for more of it.

That brings me to the other flaw. Unfortunately, as he often did in some of his other series, especially The Red Seas and Brass Sun, Edginton ends this first 12-parter on a cliffhanger, but these are never the best structured cliffhangers. Since, by 2000 AD's design, each individual episode ends on a shock or a revelation, I wish that he'd always move the story to a good place to leave it. There's clearly a lot more going on in Helium that we've not learned yet, and I'm very keen to know more, but building each published chunk of the saga as a story in its own right, to a defined conclusion to each part of the narrative, will make each chunk much more memorable. Especially since the vagaries of 2000 AD's publishing schedule means that it will probably be quite a few months before this cliffhanger is resolved. Dang it!

Mysteries of the Diogenes Club

What I try to do with reviews at this Bookshelf blog is keep it simple and spoiler-free, and let you know whether I'd recommend you pick up a copy of what I just read. Seems to work okay. This time, a brief review of Mysteries of the Diogenes Club (Monkeybrain, 2010).

I think that Kim Newman's a much better ideas man than he is a wordsmith, and that's almost okay, because his ideas are really fun. Basically, he took the Diogenes Club, from the Sherlock Holmes stories, and made it a secret service defending the United Kingdom from magical and occult threats for more than a century, and has written short stories in which various club members take center stage in different eras. One of them, Richard Jeperson, got a whole book of short stories set in the late 1960s and early 1970s to himself, but I couldn't find that book and started with this one. Jeperson takes center stage in just one of these; other tales are led by Edwin Winthrop, who was the chief agent in the early 20th Century, and a vampire named Geneviève Dieudonné makes several appearances.

As with any collection of short stories, especially one with a scope as broad as this one, some stories will be better than others, but the Jeperson-led "Moon Moon Moon" was by leagues my favorite, a terrific tale that explains how peoples' imaginations of the moon, prior to NASA's landing upon it, created its own unique world. I really enjoyed Jeperson's louche dandy act, and his teamup with an American government agent is a hoot. The character is not-all-that-loosely based on TV's Jason King, and of course Jason King would have been a member of the Diogenes Club as Newman presents it.

The novella "Seven Stars" at least starts out fabulously. It's an epic tale that starts in Victorian London and winds its way into the future, with every era of Diogenes Club operatives getting into conflict with the Mountmain family over a magical jewel. It really did lose me in the end, but each installment kept my attention, at least for a while. Newman's prose is sometimes very hard to parse. A section of "Seven Stars" that takes place in Los Angeles, allowing him the chance to parody hard-boiled PI stories of the '30s, was particularly tough to wade through, forcing me to reread one section about a reanimated corpse, and the narrator's blase reaction toward it, several times.

Newman dreams up beautiful, fantastic scenarios, but conveys them with all the grace of a junkyard. He's not helped by the woeful production and no-budget design of the book, with chapters literally beginning on the very next line, a new heading marked in bold font. The effect is that of a low-rent DIY publisher churning out barely-penetrable walls of text, and this may sound like a churlish and snobby complaint, but there really is a subconscious level of excitement that can come from good design, and a related level of boredom when anybody, anywhere, could type up the same book for a vanity press. Newman's leaden style needed a little help, and his publisher didn't give him any. I have another of his Diogenes Club books on the shelf and do intend to read it (hoping there's more Jeperson in it), but it's not a priority. Very mild recommendation.

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The Bookshelf will take a summer holiday and return in August!