Archives for posts with tag: C. L. McCarthy photo

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img062abLA, Hollywood, Beverly Hills.  The locals know where one ends and the other begins.  I don’t pretend to.

“Anne climbed into her uncle’s old Jaguar.” Chapter 4 of It’s In His Kiss came pretty quickly.  The only old Jaguars we get around Portland seem to be in Monte Shelton’s showroom window.  You’ll have to check in with Vickie Lester for more details on her world.

“One would think a writer would be happy here — if a writer is ever happy anywhere.”
Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye

 

img063abWe’re going on a different ride this week.  A couple weeks ago a proposal came my way, a proposal to get a pre-release copy of a murder mystery, read it, then blog about it.  She acknowledged this might be “too far afield” from my normal posts.  After all,  Sanslartigue is sub-titled “The Silent Camera.”  But the book’s prologue starts out “There’s no mistaking death.”  I was hooked!  So, we’re off to Los Angeles, for a visit to Hollywood and downtown LA, with a little help from Phillip Marlowe and Raymond Chandler, a few photos by yours truly and my Dad, and the hope that I don’t lose you along the way!

The book is It’s In His Kiss, by Vickie Lester.  She’s also known for Beguiling Hollywood, one of the sexiest blogs I know.

“Tall, aren’t you?” she said.
“I didn’t mean to be.”
Her eyes rounded. She was puzzled. She was thinking. I could see, even on that short acquaintance, that thinking was always going to be a bother to her.”
Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep