Blog Posts by David

"M-G-M: Hollywood's Greatest Backlot"
by Steven Bingen, Stephen X. Sylvester, and Michael Troyan
Santa Monica Press, 311 pp., $34.95
Reviewed by David Marshall James


When theater-chain owner Marcus Loew purchased Louis B. Mayer's Mission Road Studio in downtown Los Angeles and put him in charge of production at the Goldwyn Studio in Culver City, California,
M-G-M was born.

The mandate was simple: Loew expected plenty of movies to facilitate the filling of his theater seats.

And Mayer-- supported by his young production chief, Irving Thalberg-- had a formula for delivery.

Taking a cue from Henry Ford's assembly line, Mayer transformed M-G-M into an efficient array of every conceivable department and shop required to produce a motion picture, from writer's desk to film lab.

Massive enclosed stages were in place for interior sets, and a backlot was expanded, with facades and other structures for exterior sets.

As the authors relate, the

"The Night Season" by Chelsea Cain
Minotaur, 322 pp., $24.99
Reviewed by David Marshall James

Portland, Oregon, is getting wetter by the minute. The Willamette River, which flows through the middle of the city, is cresting above flood stage.

And the rain keeps falling.

The National Guard is out in force, supervising sandbagging efforts and prepping to enforce order in what looks to be an inevitable worst-case scenario.

Cars are stalling out in low-lying intersections. Business people are shutting up shops for the duration. People are losing power all over the place.

It's a cop's nightmare. It's a journalist's wet dream.

Speaking of cops, author Chelsea Cain's much battle-scarred (physically and psychologically, having been tortured by a female serial killer) Archie Sheridan, who has overcome an addiction to Vicodin, is slapped with a rapidly growing string of suspicious deaths.

On the surface, they appear to be drownings. However,

"And Furthermore" by Dame Judi Dench
St. Martin's, 268 pp., $26.99
Reviewed by David Marshall James


Unless one were fortunate enough to catch Dame Judi Dench in performance at the Old Vic, at the National Theatre or Stratford, or at one of the theatres in London's West End, then it's unlikely that one knew much about her until "As Time Goes By" began playing on U.S. television.

Then came her Oscar-nominated performance in "Mrs. Brown," her Oscar-winning role in "Shakespeare in Love," and her ongoing portrayals of "M" in the James Bond movies, and then how could one not know of the actress?

With a fifty-plus-year career on the boards, the author (she freely admits she couldn't have possibly written a book, so she dictated this one to her earlier biographer, John Miller, but her voice comes through loud and clear, with projection quality to reach what the Yanks call the second balcony) dispenses a thorough review of everything she's done professionally, on stage, TV, and screen.

"The Brothers of Baker Street"
by Michael Robertson
Minotaur/Thomas Dunne, 274 pp., $24.99
Reviewed by David Marshall James

London barrister Reggie Heath-- his reputation and bank account battered by his adventures in Los Angeles in "The Baker Street Letters"-- has returned to chambers in London.

No clerk. No intern. No cases.

Just the one secretary, plus those letters that continue to arrive addressed to Sherlock Holmes, seeing as how Reggie's chambers are situated at Holmes's literary residence: 221b Baker Street.

Bother that, but Reggie's lease requires that he respond to all such missives with a form letter. Reggie's younger brother, Nigel, proved much better at handling such loopy loopholes, but he's still in California with his inamorata, Mara.

Seems as if Reggie's days couldn't get any more rainy, then up pops a pic in one of the infamous London tabloids: His inamorata, actress Laura Rankin, in bikini delicto with media mogul Robert Buxton, on a Siamese shore.

Can she

"Georgia Bottoms" by Mark Childress
Little, Brown, 278 pp., $24.99
Reviewed by David Marshall James


She's totin' more secrets than the law should allow, and bearin' burdens that would lead lesser souls to seek prescriptions for nerve "meds" and brown bags full of soothing libations.

Still and all, Miss Georgia Bottoms can whip out a pan of homemade biscuits or scrub a room into shape quicker than a dozen Navy midshipmen.

Indeed, her life is ordered meticulously around a done-losin'-her-marbles Momma and a nothin'-but-trouble-causin' younger borther who reside in a small-town Alabama house that stands as a mocking reminder of the Bottoms family's diminished fortune.

In another day and time, all that would have been expected of Georgia would have been to: 1) Smile and look her naturally beautiful, always well-turned-out self (no problem); 2) Marry well (no problem, given no. 1); and 3) Set up her own gracious household (no problem, given her domestic capabilities).

Georgia has

"Bad Bird" by Chris Knopf
Minotaur/Thomas Dunne, 296 pp., $25.99
Reviewed by David Marshall James

This second Jackie Swaitkowski mystery novel comes up golden on all major fronts: setting, plot, felicity of style (including pacing and dialogue), and-- above all-- characterization.

The character of Jackie is a gift to hohumming mystery readers everywhere. She's far from flawless, yet near-perfect in her panoply of imperfections. Oxymoronically and paradoxically speaking.

Hardboiled detective novelists of yore would have termed her "a real dame" (just don't call her "a babe"). If she had been a 1940s Technicolor movie character, she could have been portrayed by Maureen O'Hara or Virginia Mayo. Maybe Arlene Dahl. Jackie's tresses are Irish Catholic red with strawberry blond highlights.

She likes a stiff drink in-between bottles of Chardonnay, along with a Marlboro Light in-between pre-rolled smokes of wacky tobackey.

Ostensibly a real-estate attorney on the south side of Long

"On Borrowed Time" by David Rosenfelt
Minotaur, 291 pp., $24.99
Reviewed by David Marshall James


Here's a mystery/thriller that will blow your mind.

Gosh knows, that's what's happening to the protagonist-- and then some.

Richard Kilmer was just a typical, rising star in NYC magazine journalism, hanging out at the corner sports bar with his two best buds, until he met Jennifer Ryan.

Rapidly, he realizes that she's The One Yessiree, she's The Keeper.

Then, six months later and shortly after he's whipped out the biggest diamond he can almost afford, they're involved in a freakish automobile crash. Furthermore, she's apparently disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Moreover to that "furthermore," no one (aside from Richard) can remember her. Cinderella has ditched the ball, and there's not even a glass slipper to show for it.

Did she ever truly exist?

In an effort to preserve his sanity, Richard puts the word out as far as he can, via a magazine article: Have you seen this

"A Decadent Way to Die" by G.A. McKevett
Kensington, 294 pp., $24
Reviewed by David Marshall James


This sixteenth entry in the Savannah Reid mystery series is as tasty and satisfying as the expensive chocolates in which the title character indulges before, during, and after her rose-scented bubble baths.

Small wonder, then, that the somewhere-between-forty-and-fifty Savannah is enjoying such a long run in the Forrest Gumpian "box of chocolates" assortment of mystery novels.

The main ingredient to the success of this series is Savannah herself, in all her "raised by a Georgia granny" glory.

Savannah emerges as a thoughtfully conceived character, rich with nuances, who shoulders the works with ease.

A hardworking gal needs her strength, and Savannah can whip up something delectable from her Southern culinary roots, especially if friends are dropping by for dinner. And the lady does like to entertain.

She used to be a cop with the fictional San Carmelita P.D. She still misses the