Presumed Guilty

I'm the process of moving my office down to the basement... er, I mean, ground floor of Secret Dead Blog Headquarters. (The daughter will be inheriting the room in which The Wheelman, The Blonde, Severance Package, and a fairly large chunk of the next one were written, as well as the first eleven issues of Cable and other assorted comics.) I've been going up and down the stairs, carefully transporting my Richard Stark collection, my Richard Matheson collection, my pulp paperback reference collection, my Black Lizard collection, my Manhunt collection... yeah, I've got a bunch of collections going.

Just took a break now, though, and I was happy to see that Paul Goat Allen is calling Severance Package a hit of "literary methamphetamine" in the Chicago Tribune. (I hasten to add that very few Severance readers have reported weight loss, meth mouth, and/or a sudden resemblance to Amy Winehouse; ask your doctor if Severance Package is right for you.) He also think it's a guilty pleasure novel full of "dark, twisted energy." Not going to complain about that one bit.

And I forgot to blog about Adam Woog's review in the Seattle Times that appeared last week. He also think Severance is a guilty pleasure, and adds that it's "gleefully crude, cartoonishly violent, and as thoroughly addictive as the best (or worst) of Tarantino and Spillane."

Which reminds me; time to move the Spillane collection downstairs.