Dance with the Dead

Dance with the Dead
by Richard S.Prather
1960

One of the Great Shell Scott Capers

Thoughts Going In

I expect this little ditty to fall somewhere between James Bond and The Executioner. We've got a greying gentleman here (call him a detective... or at least, a tough guy) on the cover, along with some damsel rolling around in the spotlight... likely of a porn movie set.

As I start, I am growing tired (weary, heavy lidded) from reading Latimer. And I am looking for something a little lighter, a little more upbeat. (Note: I post in order completed, not in order begun. Latimer comes next) So, I am hoping for a little gun play, witty dialogue (what makes or breaks such a tale, I will guess, going in), and the bedding of a female character (don't want to call her a lead) or two.

It's a Shell Scott Caper. I have no idea who (or what a) Shell Scott is. But I've been seeing his books (or those of contemporaneous heroes) popping up as of late. So, he was famous in the day... and now, the day has come for his fans to start kicking it (i.e. dying) and their executors (and/or ungrateful children, the illiterate heathens) to send the books to the scrap heap, library free bin, and other used book venues.

I hope it's good.

The real problem is conveying sex... without, you know, conveying sex.

Notable Quotes

A Few Witty Turns of Phrase:

Smog is Death's Halitosis.
Tax Men are America's Storm Troopers.
Strippers are Dancing Ecdysiasts.
A Nasty Surprise is Breaking a Tooth on a Marshmallow.

A Small Sampling of One Liners:

Somebody was going to pay if I had to wade through boiling horse manure swarming with heat-resistant piranhas.

I drank some bourbon-and-water which went down like water-and-water.

It got so bad that when a girl came out to dance the customers didn't yell 'Take it off!' but 'Keep it on!'

And the Metaquote to Set It All Straight:

Plus the inquisitiveness and curiosity of a writer.

Running Thoughts

• Does he think in metaphor?
• I can only hope!
• Yippie!
• Such wordplay.
• I am in the presence of a master.
• Hopefully, there is a plot to match.
• Even if not, I think I will be happy doing time.
• After a while...
• You'll have to fill that space yourself...
  • with your own imagination.
• Sorry, but the censors won't let me.
• Memories!
• Of things, yet, to come...
• Four foot by eight foot?
• Did I read that wrong?
• I can't find the passage again.
  • Giving up.
• But either way, and in retrospect, I don't believe it.
• Wow!
• Yes! Wow!
• I've looked at enough behinds to know they are all different.
• Evidently, a man from the 60's did not.
• In 1960, the girl's name was Pagan.
• Um, the Beats were more hippy-like than anyone knew.
• Still, times change.
• He has a way with words.
• His likes include:
• Smoking
• Whiskey
• Women
• And killing folks.
  • But obviously, only if they have it coming.
  • He's not a psychopath.
• As cool as a cucumber.
• Dry lips.
• Dry tongue.
• Sounds like a lizard.
• A fat lizard.
• A trip to Hawaii!
• I do believe Richard S. Prather has been to the islands.
• And he liked what he saw.
• And here we are back at the beginning.
• The loop around was done with precision.
• I'd actually forgotten it was the first chapter.
• I thought it was an excerpt.
• Half of me wants to stop reading this book.
• But it is the lesser half.
• Marbles were lost.
• A fight scene...
• Way too detailed for my tastes.
• Yeah, whatever.
  • He knows karate...
    • Sorry, the martial arts.
• The normalcy of death.
• I know, I'm getting pretty blase about it.
• Deja vu!
• Bond (James Bond, that is) had a thing with room service, as well.
• Trust the cops?
• Never!
• Doing the outside work on the inside.
• And now, he's him!
• Will wonders never cease?
• After all, is life nothing but the search to find oneself?
• I expected it to explode.
• Nope!
• Just... nope!
• Active eyes...
• Leads to an active imagination.
• The old one-two.
• Yippie! Success!
• It's the little things.
• Cigarettes marking time.
• Well, it's better than bottles of booze.
• Biology 101
• Things are falling into place...
• Again!
• Specifics...
• I'm not tracking.
• I'm really not tracking anything, at this point.
• To do so...
  • I'd have to make notes...
  • Of a different type.
• Lucky!
• They always are.
• It bears repeating.
• They always are.
• I wonder if the caper unscrambles and pulls straight even on paper.
• You know, if one were to make notes.
• Whatever you say, fella.
• Random facts...
• In support of an implausible caper
• Maybe it's supposed to be a comedy.
• But it's a bit late in the story for me to be thinking that for the first time.
• It's certainly surreal.
• I can see the Wizard of Oz moment coming.
• A near death experience.
• Wrapped with a bow?
• Nope.
  • I pulled out.
  • Too many lies.
• I am not a fan of the unreliable narrator.
• The author may swear (or at least, pretend) that the story makes sense.
• But I no longer believe you.
  • I've learned not to believe you...
  • Or care what you have to say.
• Not a good way to end the reading experience.

The Debriefing

This story oozes Mild Titillation from beginning to end. Unfortunately, the world has changed (from the 60s, 1960 to be exact) to the point where images of naked women are a dime a dozen... and downloadable by the thousands from the Internet. And as such, I question how many men still read pulp-fiction for its erotic appeal.

That said, the language is sublime... on occasion. I think the truth is that at first, I (thought I) was settling into a masterpiece, savouring every word and phrase. But at the end, I was just getting through it.

A major reason for this disinterest may have been the fight scenes: they were too specific, too step by step. And therefore, the improbability of every fight was thrust before my eyes in page wide swaths rather than as brief asides.

Finally, to me, to my eye (and ear) the entire story fell apart at the end. I love the twist in the middle. Spoiler Alert! I love it when Shell Scott suffers total amnesia and cannot remember who he is. But from another angle, that is when the story dies, as characters are misnamed, the reader is lied to, and untangling the story at the end requires huge contradictions to what has been previously related. So, the ending wasn't satisfying... or at least, it wasn't satisfying to me.

There is, perhaps, a reason why I would not have named Shell Scott as one of the famous gum-shoe detectives prior to reading this story. He just wasn't that good.

On the other hand, I can see reading (or at least skimming, I'm not very good at skimming, these days) one of his earlier adventures.