Over on The Cultural Gutter, I’m taking a look at one of my favorite sci-fi book series from my youth. Return of the Tripods chronicles my revisit as a man grown to John Christopher’s Tripods trilogy: The White Mountains, The City of Gold and Lead, and The Pool of Fire, which I first discovered when they were serialized as a comic strip in Boys’ Life magazine.
I’ve posted another another excerpt from my upcoming book, Bond Vivant, over on the Bond Vivant website. Shaking Martinis with Nick Charles looks at the surprising provenance of experienced on-screen drinkers shaking, rather than stirring their martinis. Special guest appearances by The Bronx and The Brooklyn cocktails. Be sure (sure!) to follow the blog and the Bond Vivant Facebook page for updates on the book.
Over on Alcohol Professor, editor Amanda Schuster canvassed my fellow writers and me about what we’ll be drinking over the (American) holiday weekend. Spoiler alert: I am drinking a really cheap Spanish brandy. For the rest of the story, have a gander at Our Writers On What They’ll Be Sipping This Thanksgiving and get to shopping before the ice storm seals us all in.
Time for a new sneak peek from my (eventually) upcoming book, Bond Vivant: Hitting the Bar with the World’s Least Secret Agent. Over on the Bond Vivant site we’re living The Bitter Life, taking a look at the first drink in James Bond’s storied career, the Americano, as well as the history of one of its key ingredients, Campari, and the beautiful opera diva of middling talent who obsessed young Davide Campari.
Over on Alcohol Professor, I’m listening to The Crystals and writing in This IS Your Grandfather’s Whisky about the birth of the commercial single malt scotch category. It happened in 1963, and t celebrate the fact, Glenfiddich has produced a new bottle, The Original, and threw a party to commemorate its North American launch.
“Demobilized officer, finding peace unbearably tedious, would welcome any excitement. Legitimate, if possible, but crime of humorous description, no objection.” — Bulldog Drummond, 1929
Basil Dearden’s 1960 caper film League of Gentlemen is a little bit like if, instead of ending up solving crimes for a living, Bulldog Drummond ended up committing them; as if his humorous classified ad was answered by a fellow demobilized officer putting together a crew for a heist. Surely the overly complicated ladder theft that results would appeal to Drummond’s sense of humor. Unlike the old Bulldog Drummond movies however, beneath the breezy, dryly comical veneer of League of Gentlemen is the sort of political and social unrest that characterized much of Dearden’s work in the late 1950s and into the 1960s. The man was a master at making mainstream, commercial films that packed powerful, at times very pro-counter culture messages.
Last year, we took you on a lantern-lit tour of some of the most famous haunted locations in my adopted home of New York City. Once again, we don our novelty cloak and top hat and beckon you come with us for another round of macabre tales and spooky legends. Join me, won’t you, as we visit voodoo queens, gangland massacres, Edgar Allan Poe, and a ghostly garrison in the wilds of northern New York.
There is a whimsical character in so much of what constitutes Prague, a tendency to find the creative, the artistic, and sometimes the absurd in even the darkest of places. That indomitable creative spirit is most evident in the place where many of the Czech Republic’s creative spirits have come for their final rest. Historic Vyšehrad Cemetery, located on a hill high above Prague and on the grounds of old Vyšehrad Castle, was established in 1849 as a cemetery dedicated almost entirely to the dizzying number of musicians, painters, sculptors, writers, dancers, actors, and other artists who made Prague in particular and the Czech Republic in general one of Europe’s most interesting nations.
When I was young still and open of mind, my parents set me loose in the University of Kentucky bookstore with the understanding that I was allowed to choose for myself from the racks of tapes and books some manner of entertainment. As I perused the offerings with a diligent focus that can be mustered only by a seven-year-old with a serious decision to make, I contemplated my options. Not a book, I decided, even though there were several promising ones. But I wanted something in which I could indulge on the long car ride back to Centerfield, and I was not prone to car sickness except when I tried to read. So a cassette…but which one? I flipped through the racks, past recordings of old radio dramas. The Shadow? Maybe. Lights Out Theater? Even better. And then I found it. With nary a doubt in my mind as to the correctness of my decision, I took from the rack and presented triumphantly to my mother my choice of prize: a recording of Orson Welles’ legendary broadcast of The War of the Worlds on Halloween eve, 1938.
It’s a blue moon month for me over at The Cultural Gutter, and I get the honor of ushering in All Hallow’s Eve, scary sci-fi style. Something Kinda Funky looks at the time Buck Rogers, Wilma, and Twiki faced off against a nefarious Space Count Orlok in the classic Buck Rogers in the 25th Century episode, “Space Vampire.”