Two-fisted 80s mixtape: notes on Blue Hotel

Raymond Chandler once wrote in a letter that ‘all late night ideas are gaudy’. With Blue Hotel I set out to write one such gaudy novel: a nocturne of pulp tropes and bad-feeling encounters that would challenge sensitivity readers and comfortable crime fiction in general.

I envisaged the story would interleave graphic descriptions of a sexual underworld with a detective-style plot. It wasn't until the second draft that I noticed I wasn't getting around to writing the graphic stuff.

There were two reasons for this. The first was that I'd already covered this ground in novels like Heaven and short stories like 'Archie and Veronica' (in The Man Who Wasn't Feeling Himself) and ‘Supercollider’. The second was that the modern internet has made adult pornography ubiquitous. Sexual acts are no longer motivation for the characters or a shock to the modern reader. Nowadays denizens of the Blue Hotel would have their own WhatsApp.

This realisation liberated the writing. I could follow Lovecraft's rules for describing the unspeakable (i.e. that it's unspoken). The retro attitudes also had the positive effect of dating the novel. Being set in the long-ago 1980s made Blue Hotel historical fiction as much as crime. Ray Moody drives everywhere and digs through piles of paper. Computers are slow, phones have a cord. (One reader described it as a “two-fisted 80s mixtape.”)

The novel's unexplained disappearance is a pre-internet event. The missing woman Blanca Nul apparently comes to life from a photograph, provoking urban legends in the time before reverse image search. One of the novel’s many noir inspirations is Fritz Lang's The Woman In The Window about a femme fatale who appears, as if summoned, in a reflection before her painted portrait. Blue Hotel also follows my favourite film noir rule: mirrors are windows, mechanical images are deceitful, and art is the only truth.

The other theme which emerged from the novel as I worked on it was one of invasion. Blanca is an exotic visitor whose difference threatens the natural order of a small island nation. The story is populated with animals: caged, collected, untamed, in effigy. Humans are fighting their primal instincts. Society's conflicts are treacherous.

The novel's protagonist Ray is a ray of sunshine but he's also Moody. His rehab makes emotional but not logical sense; the stories he hears from his fellow addicts don't answer his questions directly.

I made Blue Hotel as complex as I could. I didn’t want it to boil down to an easy blurb. As soon as one plot line was resolved I added another. It's not long by the doorstop standards of, say, the fantasy genre but it's dense. I hoped that layering these ideas would give a reader more on a second and third reading as a reward for finding it in the first place.

Blue Hotel was shortlisted for best novel in the 2023 Ngaio Marsh Awards.

Blue Hotel finalist in Ngaios

Blue Hotel is on the shortlist for Best Novel in the 2023 Ngaio Marsh Awards. The paperback can be ordered online here.

The Ngaio Marsh Awards official press release follows:

2023 Ngaio Marsh Awards finalists plunge readers into page-turning tales about who we are

From heart-wrenching tales of families torn apart by disappearance or deportation to examinations of historic crimes, swindles, and injustices to page-whirring novels about former cops and former convicts, the finalists for the 2023 Ngaio Marsh Awards offer a diverse array of storytelling excellence

“When we first launched New Zealand’s own annual prizes for crime, mystery, and thriller writing in 2010, we modelled our Ngaio Marsh Awards on the Hammett Prize in North America, which celebrates literary excellence in crime writing,” says Ngaio Marsh Awards founder Craig Sisterson. “The Ngaios have never been solely about detective fiction; instead highlighting and celebrating outstanding Kiwi storytellers whose tales, fictional and factual, explore the investigation of crime or the impact or effects of crime on people and society.”

The 2023 Ngaios finalists announced today across three categories, like many previous years, says Sisterson, underline that original ethos. This year’s finalists range across an array of styles, settings, and stories, exploring important topics from radical empathy and redemption in one of the world’s most notorious psychiatric facilities to familial grief, dealing with dementia, mass surveillance, and the ongoing impact of colonisation and the Dawn Raids.

“The consistent thread throughout this diverse array of Kiwi books is quality storytelling that struck a chord with our international judging panels of crime writing experts from several countries,” says Sisterson. “As the likes of Val McDermid have said, if you want to better understand a place, read its crime fiction. Crime writing is a broad church nowadays, including but going far beyond the traditional puzzling mysteries of Dames Ngaio and Agatha Christie, and can deliver insights about society and humanity alongside rollicking reads. Many of our finalists showcase something about who we are, as people and a nation.”

The finalists for this year’s Ngaio Marsh Award for Best Non-Fiction, a biennial prize previously won by filmmaker Michael Bennett (Ngāti Pikiao, Ngāti Whakaue) for IN DARK PLACES, a book about the wrongful conviction of Teina Pora, by Kelly Dennett for THE SHORT LIFE AND MYSTERIOUS DEATH OF JANE FURLONG, and most recently by Martin van Beynen for BLACK HANDS: INSIDE THE BAIN FAMILY MURDERS, are:

  • A NEW DAWN by Emeli Sione (Mila’s Books)
  • THE DEVIL YOU KNOW by Dr Gwen Adshead & Eileen Horne (Faber)
  • DOWNFALL: THE DESTRUCTION OF CHARLES MACKAY by Paul Diamond (Massey University Press)
  • THE FIX by Scott Bainbridge (Bateman Books)
  • MISSING PERSONS by Steve Braunias (HarperCollins)

Each of this year’s non-fiction finalists delivered compelling stories that immersed readers in a variety of subject matters, from historical figures and crimes to deeply personal stories.

“There were some stellar non-fiction reads this year,” said the international judging panel of Scottish journalist and true crime writer turned novelist Douglas Skelton, Auckland lawyer Darise Bennington, and Ngaios founder Craig Sisterson. “From well-researched and fascinating dissections of historic events to deeply informed and personal tales, to disturbing yet engrossing accounts of the humanity behind shocking acts, we have terrific finalists.”

The finalists for the 2023 Ngaio Marsh Award for Best First Novel are:

  • ONE HEART ONE SPADE by Alistair Luke
  • TOO FAR FROM ANTIBES by Bede Scott (Penguin SEA)
  • BETTER THE BLOOD by Michael Bennett (Simon & Schuster)
  • SURVEILLANCE by Riley Chance (CopyPress Books)
  • THE SLOW ROLL by Simon Lendrum (Upstart Press)
  • PAPER CAGE by Tom Baragwanath (Text Publishing)

“There is no shortage of fresh ideas in New Zealand crime fiction, nor in breadth of style, with this year's entrants running from chilling thrillers to the cosier end of the spectrum,” says British journalist and book reviewer Louise Fairbairn, the Chair of an international judging panel for the Best First Novel category that also included South African writer Sonja van der Westhuizen, British reviewer and longtime CWA Daggers judge Ayo Onatade, and Australian podcaster and author Dani Vee. “Those debuts that particularly caught our attention were unafraid to explore difficult real-life issues and embed themselves in an authentic New Zealand of rough edges and grey areas, rather than glossy make-believe.”

Lastly, the finalists for this year’s Ngaio Marsh Award for Best Novel are:

  • EXIT .45 by Ben Sanders (Allen & Unwin)
  • BLUE HOTEL by Chad Taylor (Brio Books)
  • REMEMBER ME by Charity Norman (Allen & Unwin)
  • THE DOCTOR’S WIFE by Fiona Sussman (Bateman Books)
  • BETTER THE BLOOD by Michael Bennett (Simon & Schuster)
  • BLOOD MATTERS by Renée (The Cuba Press)
  • THE SLOW ROLL by Simon Lendrum (Upstart Press)

“It’s a very strong group of finalists to emerge from a dazzlingly varied longlist,” says Sisterson. “This year’s entrants gave our international judging panels lots to chew over, and plenty of books judges enjoyed and loved didn’t become finalists. ‘Yeahnoir’, our local spin on some of the world’s most popular storytelling forms, is certainly in fine health.”

The winners of the 2023 Ngaio Marsh Awards will be announced at a special event held in association with WORD Christchurch in Spring, details and date to be confirmed soon.

For more information on any or all of our 2023 Ngaio Marsh Awards finalists, or the Ngaios in general, please contact founder Craig Sisterson.

Now playing: Sharpening tools

Recently played: Honeymoon to Nowhere

Notes, not to self

Richard Prince interviewed by Matthew Holman:

'The pseudonym, the fake name, has always interested me. You tap into a part of you that you don't really want to. It's a way of letting something out that you wouldn't let out in another way... 
'I became obsessed by the idea that I could take a portrait of someone I knew or almost knew or wanted to know. Those are all things that attract me to a certain type of portrait, and so that's what I did. It's the same as why sometimes I'll pick up a ballpoint pen and make a drawing on a piece of paper, because there's no mystery to it. I'm not trying to fool anybody. It's basically the same as working on your phone, which I consider to be an extension of the studio. I have this term called "post-place" and I think that's where we spend most of our intimate time. You can be anywhere at any time, under any circumstances. I could make an Instagram portrait of you right now, as we speak. I like those advantages. It's how I want to spend my day. That's a great way to get out of labour, right?'

Make money, get prizes


Musk paying people for tweets reminds me of the old ads that ran in the back of comic books: "Make Money, Get Prizes … with Fast Selling American Seeds". (All those smiling kids.) More seriously I worry what Elon's fucking-up of of the platform is doing to literary and arts communities. For years events such as the Ngaio Marsh Awards have used Twitter for promotions and publicity. Locking out unregistered users breaks that model. (The function was reportedly restored for individual tweets or then again maybe not.)

But that's the zeitgeist. Tweeting makes you a "creator" and acting makes you a stand-in for a VR scan and writing will be replaced by AI or whatever -- call me back when it can park a car. We live in the age of billionaires' budget submarines.

New Jeff Koons interview on 60 Minutes… Jeff is a fave. Never got the vacuum cleaners but I was there for the basketballs onwards. I was delighted when I got to witness one of his Puppy sculptures in Sydney's Museum of Contemporary Art Australia in 1991. An official told me a mischievous technician planted dope in the ears – the artist did not approve.

Koons on Rabbit:

It's iconic because it can represent so many different things. I can think of Easter. I can think of a politician with a kind of, a microphone, somebody making proclamations. I can think of a Playboy rabbit. But I think one of the most important things to me, the reason it's reflective, and reflecting you, reflecting me, you know, the viewer finishes a work of art. It's, it, it's about your feelings, your experiences. It's about your potential.

Also last week I tracked down an English language translation of Carlo Lucarelli's Carte Blanche (Europa Editions, 2009). Excited. Eerie to see Departure Lounge in the "if you enjoyed this book..." pages in the back.

Recently played: Something good

Americano Grande

Less than forty-eight hours after the launch of Instagram Threads sites are already posting advice about how users can block notifications and replies. I closed my Instagram three months ago and it still feels like I'm on holiday. There are people I miss but I was watching part of them and not talking. Much as I hate being online I also love it. The cyberfuture Gen X anticipated so eagerly did not turned out as promised. Even the 'X' part has been appropriated by a billionaire clown.

To Read list: Too Far From Antibes by Bede Scott; Honeymoon to Nowhere by Akimitsu Takagi.

Listening: The War on Drugs, Sleaford Mods.

John Harris interviewed the Mods' Jason Williamson in a Caffè Nero:
"All my money was going on [cocaine], and I wasn't eating. Just drinking, and doing coke, and working. And getting sacked from jobs, and going from job to job. And that's when the psyche of Sleaford Mods started to form. I was taking note of the fact that I was failing, and taking mental snapshots of it: remembering all the times that I fucked it up and went even lower. That started to build up, and build up. I started to get curious about why I was doing it. I started to view the situations I was in as inspiring."

I got a lot of work done in the Caffè Nero in Camden.

Heideggerian

 


This just in

Blue Hotel is on the longlist for the 2023 Ngaio Marsh Award for Best Novel.

Now playing: New York, London, Paris, Munich

The mother of all that lives



Pieces of the puzzle: Diva (1981), Thief (1981), Inherent Vice (2014).

Shhh / Peaceful

Rewatching Thief. The movie seemed so wild and all over the place at the time but watching it now the story is tight. It's easy to see in its visual shorthand how Michael Mann subsequently adapted big screen moments for small screen TV. Early on there's a moment when a buyer jumps / is pushed from a tall building by mafia (probably). In modern film you'd be shown the buyer, his/her background story, how they were pushed, their last moments etc etc, all with needle drops, sweaty close-ups, callbacks to falling-to-their-deaths scenes in other films, with some sassy to-camera remark. Mann just shows a caller in a phone booth with heads of the crowd and ambulance lights in the background. Because that's all that matters.

Reading: Modiano, Pynchon.

Listening:
Miles Davis - 'In A Silent Way'
DJ Saint Barth - 'My Mine - Hypnotic Tango'
Astels - 'Drive to you'

Blues on the rocks

Can one be influenced by a work in retrospect? If so I'd cite Georges Simenon's The Blue Room (1964) which is everything in a story I find attractive yet am reading only just now. The Blue Room is a magnetic little drama folded up like a pocket knife, ducking between timelines with the simplest of signifiers, and it's short. There's no hiding in a short novel.

Simenon's name is synonymous with the Maigret mysteries which I've never gotten far with. When I was living in London I'd go to Foyles in Charing Cross Road and flick through the crime section. There's a species of narrative that opens on page one with a body or darkness or mutilation (The Eyeball Collector etc) which is not bad – there are rules but no rules, ever, in fiction – and their authors were all far more successful than I am, but it was never my kind of thing. What I did find to read was inevitably by someone dead. So there's your corpse, there – before page one: the name on the cover.

Contingencies of the road

Travelling, so maps are my friends and books are my maps. Still up for dying in a hotel room.

New media, I love you but you're bringing me down

Like I said, as soon as I say I like a showand there might be a reason for that:

Schur describes a scenario in which a platform might promise a showrunner a $100,000 bonus for season one, $250,000 for season two, $500,000 for season three, and $1.7 million for season four. "So you're like, Holy shit. This is great!" he says. There was a catch. Many seemingly successful series began to vanish after just a couple of seasons. "What no one saw coming was they'd just kill the show before they ever had to pay that money out."

An anti-streaming campaign seems is afoot. Aubrey Plaza and Quentin Tarantino and Tom Hanks dragging on streamers in the same media cycle? Not a coincidence.

Maybe we're seeing the beginning of the end of the Silicon Valley startup business model. Won't miss it.

Freedom of the soul

Is Vanishing Point a perfect movie? Not the best, but the purest form of itself? It inspired my first screenplay Desert Road which crashed when the film company went down leaving me with years of paperwork and financial jeopardy. Life could have been very different had things gone the other way. But the open road is a set of train tracks, really: there is only one direction to travel and one conclusion. We make fewer choices than we think. Which is why Richard C Sarafian's one-note picaresque "action" movie – action being a single movement: forward – has such philosophical and emotional resonance. Vanishing Point is pure cinema. Barry Newman was the disconnected everyman – the uneasy rider. And sure, there are a thousand things wrong with it. But a thing earns the label of art for what it gets right.

Fall/Winter

Kenneth Anger's 2010 commercial for Missoni:

In 2014 Anger told Esquire's Mick Brown he'd written a third volume of the Hollwood Babylon series but was too wary of legal action to publish it. The first was originally published in French as Hollywood Babylone:

'...Anger's book became an immediate succès de scandale. In 1965, a pirated version was published in the US by a huckster named Marvin Miller. Sold in a plain brown wrapper, it shifted thousands of copies. Anger was obliged to bring a lawsuit to halt the publication, and was never paid any royalties. "Then, fortunately, Marvin Miller died. I won't say that I cursed him and then he died – but he didn't live more than a few years beyond that."'

Night of the living read

AI revives dead authors' careers:

Open Road markets older books with a machine-learning technology that scans the internet for every mention of a title — digging through reviews, social media posts and retail websites — and then generates marketing suggestions for that title. The program also experiments with pricing and promotions on retail websites to try to increase sales and by adjusting keywords so that the books surface in search results.

Technical transition

Perhaps machines are being touted as generators of "content" because anything is more interesting than the bullshit humans are uploading at this point in history. Social media, apps, news, entertainment: online "content" is either a bucket of warm soup or hysterical talkback radio. So let's do a deal: AI can write novels as long as AI promises to read them, because I won't. ChatGPT's parroting is right up there with Muzak and screensavers: don't waste my motherfucking time.

Logically the only way things can go is backwards, now – to old-fashioned books and screens and one-on-one experience and real authors taking real time over real things. I would say that, of course. And also of course there'll be no real going back: the human touch will still be augmented. But the web really does seem like it's at a terminal point of crappiness. We just aren't saying it out loud yet.