The Long Moonlight - Nightvale Book 1 (2020)

"I hate gang wars. They're coarse and rough and irritating... and they get everywhere." That's probably what the audacious thief known as Xerdes was thinking as he moved from rooftop to rooftop across the city of Menuvia. Xerdes has recently found himself in the crosshairs of rival crime lords, the city guard, hired killers, and a fellow outlaw lass who possibly just walked out of a Whitesnake music video. And all Xerdes wants is one big score to live the good life for a while... but will his next score be his last?

You all know of RazörFist, right? He's that guy on YouTube who cosplays as Bret "Hitman" Hart and has all the catchphrases like "Fuck you, I was right!" and "That's about all. Peace out. Godspeed!" Mr. Fist has also become something of an author in recent years, starting with this absolute banger known as The Long Moonlight. Coming in at a svelte 125 pages, The Long Moonlight is a delectable crossover of fantasy and noir in pulp format that simply drips with atmosphere from beginning to end. Rife with the kind of grandiloquent wordplay you'd expect from the heyday of pulps, it's unabashedly purple, but that's not a bug of the genre, it's a feature.

If you've read any press or watched any of his streams on the subject of his book series, you may know the author is refreshingly open about his writing influences: there's just as much Fritz Lieber as there is Dashiell Hammett in tone, setting, and style. There's a shot of Robert E. Howard with how some of the action is handled, and then there's a chaser of Raymond Chandler with portions of snappy dialogue. In particular, the wiseass rejoinders that emanate from main character Xerdes from time to time has an echo of Marlowe (minus the ungodly chain smoking). There's also Mr. Fist's computer gaming influences that come to the fore - the Thief series being chief among them. I'm about as good at stealth games as Joe Biden is at balancing a budget or keeping his hands off of small children, so I've never even attempted to play Thief. My only experience with these games is watching others play them, but I can absolutely see how some of the gloomy stylings of the series made their way over to The Long Moonlight.

Something else I know RazörFist enjoys are the Death Wish movies. Without spoiling too much here, there's a certain point in the story where a vengeance angle begins to unfold, and while it's not exactly Bronson-esque in the way it's executed, the brutal results do bear some vague similarities to said revenge flicks. It's good to know that even the fictional city of Menuvia can experience its own Summer of Love!

Which brings me to perhaps my only quasi-complaint about The Long Moonlight. In the midst of Menuvia's fiery but mostly peaceful protests is Inspector Coggins, a side character who features in a few brief interludes when our main character is offstage. I actually found Coggins and his no-bullshit attitude to be a pretty based character (well... for a cop, at least) - to the point where I was slightly disappointed this character's side story of solving grisly crimes and ferreting out corruption in the city guard didn't have a tad bit more time dedicated to it. I see this as a positive complaint though, for it means I found myself invested in the author's world, lore, and characters and wanted to see even more of it.

I'd be remiss if I didn't point out The Long Moonlight also features a few pieces of black and white art provided by the author himself that are peppered throughout the narrative. The art is just as evocative as the text and compliments it well, hitting the reader with a forlorn dungeon synth album cover vibe that I can get behind.

While I still heartily recommend neophytes go back and read the masters of pulp from yesteryear, there are more than enough worthy successors in this arena in the contemporary to read alongside them, and RazörFist's The Long Moonlight deserves a spot on your bookshelves if you're a pulp inclined reader. I look forward to delving into his follow-up Nightvale novella very soon.

Farewell, My Lovely (1940)

After a client is killed on his watch, Los Angeles-based private detective Philip Marlowe finds himself embroiled in another puzzle box of a case involving jewel thieves, a corrupt fortune teller, some crooked cops, a gambling ring evading the local law, and a not-so-gentle giant hoodlum on the prowl for his treacherous ex-girlfriend. Grab your cigarette case and the nearest carafe of black coffee, gumshoes, because we're about to get more concussions than a 1980's pro wrestler!

Murder, My Sweet starring Dick Powell as Phillip Marlowe is quite possibly my favorite film noir and after re-watching recently it occurred to me that the novel it was based on - Farewell, My Lovely - was one of the few Raymond Chandler pieces I hadn't got around to reading yet. I corrected this heinous oversight as quickly as possible and found myself once again sucked into the lights and shadows of Chandler's vision of the West Coast with Phillip Marlowe - perpetual smartass and would-be knight in shining armor - as my tour guide.

Those steeped in crime novel lore are likely already aware that Chandler often cobbled his Marlowe novels together by stitching previously written short stories into a singular narrative, but truthfully, the sometimes abrupt changes of pace and plot trajectory in Farewell, My Lovely might give away this trick to even a neophyte reader. I personally don't have a problem with this, but I concede this factor could be bothersome to some, especially keen mystery and whodunnit fans looking for a neat and comprehensive wrap-up by the end of the novel. In bringing different stories together as one, Chandler sometimes inadvertently creates plot holes, drops characters for long stretches of time with no apparent explanation, or introduces what should be an important character extremely late in the narrative.

However, the loose strands of plot surrounding the confounding mysteries Chandler presents never appeared to be of any major concern to the author. His primary objective was drenching the reader in atmosphere, and Farewell, My Lovely, much like its immediate predecessor The Big Sleep, is awash in a delightfully blackened ambiance from the sinful streets of Los Angeles to the broken and disaffected cast of characters each with a stain or three upon their souls. In the middle of it all is Marlowe, a man who should be broken in more ways than one but always finds a way to persevere through the mire and pursue justice... even if no one else appears to be interested in pursuing it.

There are moments of purple prose that wonderfully exemplify the pulp style, where Chandler goes out of his way to describe scenes in lavish detail to really transport the reader into the room. These are the moments where the reader can tell how much Chandler was in love with language, but there are just as many instances where instead of belaboring the point, Chandler's quick wit comes through like a blunt weapon over the head:

"I used my knee on his face. It hurt my knee. He didn’t tell me whether it hurt his face."

Finally, I'll leave you with this: a fun Farewell, My Lovely drinking game. Point your browser to a completely cucked and compromised den of leftist gobbledygook like Goodreads and take a shot every time you scroll past a contemporary review of this novel where the reviewer clutches their pearls and nearly faints at Raymond Chandler's use of colorful language. Congratulations. You're now as much of an alcoholic as Philip Marlowe appears to be. It's no secret that Chandler, much like his pal Ian Fleming, wrote novels that are no longer suitable for mOdErN aUdIeNcEs, which is why you'd be best served picking up an older edition of this book if you're ever interested in reading it, because a master of prose like Chandler deserves to be read free of censorship or abominably tedious "content warning" invasions prefacing his work like bad graffiti.