"I've got a lot of patience, baby": the story behind the dedication of The Girls with Games of Blood

My first Memphis vampire novel, Blood Groove, was dedicated to the memory of Duncan Browne (read why here). Browne remains a fairly obscure musical figure, although I hope I've nudged a few people toward seeking out his work. But The Girls with Games of Blood is dedicated to one much better known, whose songs helped define the Sixties, even if those songs were performed by other people.

Laura Nyro wrote classics: "Eli's Coming," "And When I Die," "Stoney End," "Wedding Bell Blues." And while her versions languished in relative obscurity, cover versions (Three Dog Night, Blood, Sweat and Tears, Barbra Streisand, The Fifth Dimension) were enormous hits, insuring both her reputation and her economic security. Safe from the pressures of commercial hitmaking, she created a piano-driven, soul-based body of work that, in its willful difficulty and self-referential symbolism, predated similar performers (most notably Tori Amos) by twenty years. Tragically, she died of ovarian cancer in 1997 at age 49, the same age her mother died of the same disease.

In The Mansion on the Hill: Dylan, Young, Geffen, Springsteen and the Head-On Collision of Rock and Commerce, Fred Goodman describes her thus:

"[Laura] Nyro, who resembled a chunky Morticia Addams, was both unusually talented and just plain unusual. Dressed in black with her long hair reaching down to her thighs, Nyro wore purple lipstick and used Christmas tree ornaments as earrings." (p. 122)



I had written an early draft of Blood Groove just before Goodman's book came out in 1998, and was toying with the idea of a sequel based on the idea of two girl vampires fighting over Zginski. There was no story yet, and no clear concept of the new characters. But the description in Goodman's book stuck with me.

I had a passing familiarity with Nyro's work, but I followed my new obsession where it took me and began listening intently. In the larger sense, it exposed me to a lot of awesome music I might otherwise have missed (does anything evoke a lazy, woozy summer afternoon better than "Stoned Soul Picnic"?). And in the song "When I was a Freeport and You were the Main Drag," I found this:

Well I've got a lot of patience, baby
That's a lot of patience to lose

Somehow the image from Goodman's book clicked with this snippet of lyric and created, full-blown in one burst, the character of Patience (as well as providing her onstage catchphrase). She's not a direct copy of Nyro, of course; in fact, she ultimately has very little in common with her inspiration beyond a basic physical resemblance. But without Laura Nyro, there would be no Patience Bolade. And without Patience, there would be no Girls with Games of Blood.

Nyro performing "Save the Country" on TV in 1969:



Leave a comment on the last vintage musician you rediscovered and you might win a signed copy of the new book.

Release day for THE GIRLS WITH GAMES OF BLOOD!

It's release day for The Girls with Games of Blood, the follow-up to my first Memphis vampire book, Blood Groove.

When Blood Groove came out last year, I of course checked at my local Barnes and Noble to see if they carried it. I was disappointed at first not to see it among the other vampire novels in the Sci Fi/Horror section, so I asked if they planned to stock it. The clerk said it was in stock, shelved in the Literature Section.

Literature?

Okay, first let me say, that's flattering. Certainly I'd like to think I write literature. Still, Blood Groove is about vampires: hard core, drink-your-blood-and-toss-your-wasted-carcass-aside undead. It's not romance, it's not light, and it's certainly not heartwarming. The audience for the average literary novel would be blindsided, I fear, by its contents (see this recent review).

I asked how this classification was determined, and was told it was done at the corporate level. So apparently someone at Barnes and Noble HQ thinks I belong just before Lucy Jane Bledsoe (The Big Bang Symphony: a novel of Antarctica). Which, again, is flattering. Publisher's Weekly says about her book, "Bledsoe finds the spark of life amid the ice and desolation." Heck, that could almost work for mine as well.

The point to this little post is, if you go to Barnes and Noble to find The Girls with Games of Blood (and you should; you know you want to), don't look with the other vampire books. Check in literature, under "B," next to Lucy Jane.

Exclusive new Memphis Vampires short story

As a thank-you to all the folks who enjoyed Blood Groove, and in anticipation of the release tomorrow of The Girls with Games of Blood, here's the first part of a short story that takes place between the two books. You can read the whole thing on my website here.

J'OUBLIE

(c) 2010 Alex Bledsoe

Memphis State University, late summer, 1975

"You again," the sour librarian said as she looked up.

"Yes," Alisa Cassidy said, "me again." She struggled to smile despite the stab of pain. Six months, the doctors said, and that's if she put herself in their hands, which she refused to do. Lying bald in a hospital bed was not how she wanted to go. She had no patience for this wrinkled old crone's little power trip, but it was a barrier that had to be negotiated if she wanted to reach her goal. She added helpfully, "I called ahead."

"Oh, I know," the librarian said as she rose from her seat. Her long, spindly limbs made her resemble some insect unfolding; her tall beehive hairdo added to the effect. "I have it ready for you."

Alisa dearly wished Mrs. Cutlip, the former librarian, was still alive. For that matter, she supposed, so did Mrs. Cutlip. This replacement, brought in from one of the state system's outlying campuses, seemed determined to make Alisa's remaining time as miserable as possible. Whereas Mrs. Cutlip was always glad to see her and never insisted on the protocol of appointments, this bitter artifact was a stickler for meaningless details.

Alisa followed her to the Special Collections reading room, where the book waited for her. It sat on the pristine table like a fat, well-fed slug, its leather cover swollen with mildewed padding. The metal clasp and hinges were green with corrosion, and a black patch on the spine showed where someone had once attempted to burn it. The antiseptic confines of the rare book reading room made it look even more rancid. The thought of touching it again always made Alisa's stomach turn.

"Wear these," the librarian said, indicating a box of disposable cotton gloves. She looked disdainfully at the book, then at the woman who dared to consult it. "This book is the work of the devil, you know."

"So I've heard," Alisa said. Every time I talk to you, she added in her head.

"You can't study it and not be affected by it. It wouldn't surprise me if that's why you got cancer."

Alisa's head snapped up, and the glare she gave the old woman was the first thing that had ever cracked the hag's smug superiority. "If you'll excuse me," Alisa said through her teeth, "I have work to do."

The librarian scurried out. Alisa trembled with suppressed rage and almost dropped the contents of her briefcase all over the floor. She sat and took several deep breaths, fighting the tears burning behind her eyes. It was a small campus, so naturally word got around about things like a faculty member with a terminal illness. Still, how do you justify calling yourself a Christian when you say things like that?

Alisa struggled to concentrate on the book before her: the Festa Magotta, a.k.a. the "Feast of Maggots." She put on the gloves and turned the pair of metal clasps. She lifted the cover and scowled at the puff of noxious odor that escaped.

She consulted her notes and began turning the heavy, stiff pages. Translating this book was her life's goal, and since that timetable was now significantly shortened, she had no time to waste.

She reached the point where she had stopped at her last session and turned the next page. Tucked into the fold was a thin stack of paper, of a much more recent vintage and covered with handwriting in English. She held her breath and leaned close, discerning the words "horror," "insanity" and "poodle."

She looked over her shoulder. If the mantis-librarian saw this, she'd snatch the papers away and Alisa might not see them again for months--months she didn't have. So she carefully pulled them out, hid them among her own papers and began to read....

Read the rest of the story here.

And you can order your copy of The Girls with Games of Blood here.

Gone (but not forgotten) in 60 Seconds

If one cinematic trend defines the 1970s, it's not the summer blockbuster (Star Wars, Jaws), the "New Hollywood" grit (Mean Streets, Taxi Driver) or even grindhouse exploitation. It's the car chase movie. And the undisputed king is H.B. Halicki's 1974 film, Gone in 60 Seconds.



To make an independent movie in the 70s was a sign of drive and willpower far beyond those of independent filmmakers today. Indie directors didn't want to make navel-gazing talkfests like Juno or Garden State. They strove instead to give the people what they wanted: action, destruction, and anti-establishment heroes who, even when they fail, go out in a blaze of defiant glory. And it took more than a few thousand dollars and a digital camcorder: movies were shot on film and needed both big cameras and the raw stock. Then there was distribution. "Home video" did not exist, so except for television, the only market was theatrical.

H.B. Halicki was not a filmmaker. He was a raging self-starter who owned his own auto body shop at 17. And he bought cars. Lots of them. In fact, all the cars crashed in the film (93) were personally owned, and in most cases driven to their demise, by Halicki himself. He applied the same resolve to filmmaking, utlimately writing, directing, producing and starring in both this film and its 1982 follow-up, The Junkman. He personally took both the film and the wrecked Mustang known as "Eleanor" (touted as "the only car to ever receive star billing") to drive-ins across the country--including one patronized by a certain fictional vampire trying to learn his way around 1975 Memphis.

In Blood Groove, my vampire Zginski was introduced to the modern automobile via the film Vanishing Point. By the time of my new novel, The Girls with Games of Blood, Zginski has seen Halicki's film and is ready to find his own Eleanor. You'll have to read the book to find out how he does it, and what name he chooses.

In 1989, Halicki was accidentally killed on the set of Gone in 60 Seconds II. The footage he'd already shot showed he most definitely hadn't lost his touch. And although the clothes, music and scenery of the original film set it firmly in 1974, the visceral thrill from the 40-minute final chase is timeless.



What's your favorite car chase movie? Leave a comment before midnight on Sunday, June 27 for a chance to win an advance copy of The Girls with Games of Blood (and for one lucky commenter, I'll throw in a DVD of Bram Stoker's Dracula)!

The winners of signed copies of Blood Groove are...

The Darth Vader cup came down off the shelf, the names were placed inside, and the Squirrel Boy did the random selecting. The winners are:

Milo H. Tomb

Angel 28140

Penny

Sara

Bookwench


Since none of you winners have e-mail contact info on your profile, please drop me a line (alex at alexbledsoe dot com) with your mailing address and to whom you'd like the book personalized.

Thanks to everyone who participated, and watch for more giveaways leading up to the July release of The Girls with Games of Blood!

Just in: the cover for The Girls with Games of Blood

Here's the cover for The Girls with Games of Blood, the sequel to Blood Groove.

Leave a comment before May 7 for a chance to win one of five signed paperbacks of Blood Groove, my first novel about vampires in Memphis in the Seventies.

The Girls with Games of Blood will be available in July!