Macbeth Murder Mystery

Just Released!

Give Me The Daggers

by

Stephen Gaspar

Available on Amazon!

In the year 1040 AD the Scottish king, Duncan is found brutally murdered in his bed. Certain evidence points to the king's own servants. Gowan Drummond, Thane of Lennox does not believe Duncan's  servants killed him. Drummond’s suspicions turn to Macbeth who quickly ascends the throne. His suspicions become certainty when Banquo is found murdered. In his quest for the truth, the Thane of Lennox must be cautious in his investigations, for cruel are the times, and a dangerous evil is loose in the land. Give Me The Daggers is based partly on history but mainly on William Shakespeare’s great tragedy Macbeth, but told as a detective story with some supernatural elements. Many of the familiar characters from the play are present as well as some new ones. Readers will recognize the iconic phrases that has made the play an unparalleled classic.

Macbeth - A Detective Story

William Shakespeare's Macbeth may be the Bard's greatest play. It has it all; unbridled ambition, suspicion, fear, love and a few dead bodies. 

It was this last one that inspired me to write Give Me The Daggers, the Macbeth play told as a detective story. 

Give Me The Daggers is now available on Amazon!

Dashiell Hammett - The Thin Man

Rereading The Thin Man (1933) I struck how unique it is compared to Dashiell Hammett's other works. The Thin Man is light and funny and looks at semi-high society New York and touches very little on the seedy side of society compared to, let's say, Red Harvest or The Glass Key. The Thin Man is known for all its references to drinking cocktails by the charming and gay (happy) couple, Nick and Nora Charles.

Nora sighed. "I wish you were sober enough to talk to." She leaned over to take a sip of my drink.

"How do you feel?"
"Terrible. I must've gone to bed sober."

Nora decided that she wanted to go home early and sober, ...

"Why don't you stay sober today?"
"We didn't come to New York to stay sober. Want to see a hockey game tonight?"

The mystery involves a missing eccentric, Clyde Wynant, whose family and lawyer want to find him. Nick Charles, a former detective, has no interest in finding him... until there is a dead body.

There is a lot of dialogue in The Thin Man and Hammett's narratives are brief and concise. He does not go in for long or detailed descriptions, or the similes and metaphors for which Raymond Chandler is known.

She was small and blonde, and whether you looked at her face or at her body in powder-blue sports clothes the result was satisfactory.

He was a big curly-haired, rosy-cheeked, rather good-looking chap...

He was a plump dark youngish man of medium height, broad through the jaws, narrow between the eyes. He wore a black derby hat, a black overcoat that fitted him very snugly, a dark suit, and black shoes, all looking as if he had bought them within the past fifteen minutes. The gun, a blunt black .38-calibre automatic, lay comfortably in his hand, not pointing at anything.

In my book A Piece of Work, I used plenty of references to the time it takes place; 1959. I found Hammett did the same in The Thin Man.

Nora and I went to the opening of Honeymoon at the Little Theatre ...

He  may have been referring to The Honeymoon (1930) movie directed by and starring Eric von Stroheim, or the play Almost a Honeymoon (1930) by Walter Ellis.

The Little Theatre was built in 1921 on 240 W. 44th St.

Nora could not sleep that night. She read Chaliapin's memoirs until I began to doze...

Feodor Ivanovich Chaliapin (1873-1938) was a Russian opera singer. In 1932 Chaliapin published a memoir, Man and Mask: Forty Years in the Life as a Singer. 

Nora almost mentions the  famously infamous Lindbergh kidnapping case of 1932.

I said, "but right now I'd swap you all the interviews with Mayor-elect O'Brien ever printed..."

John P. O'Brien was the 98th mayor of  New York from January 1933 to December 1933.

When we returned to the living-room, Dorothy and Quinn were dancing to Eadie Was a Lady.

Eadie Was a Lady was a very popular song from the Broadway musical Take a Chance (1932).

Though the story takes place during the Great Depression there is no mention, however, of  the Wall Street Crash of 1929, mass unemployment, breadlines and soup kitchens. Like those Busby Berkeley movies of the 1930s, Hammett wanted to take people's mind off the Depression.

Nick and Nora help keep things light and airy with a good deal of wisecracking.

She [Nora] grinned at me. "You got types?"
"Only you, darling--lanky brunettes with wicked jaws."

Nora stopped drinking to ask: "Did Wynant really steal it?"
"Tch, tch, tch," I said. "This is Christmas Eve: try to think good of your fellow man."

I kissed her. "Don't you think maybe a drink would help you to sleep?"
"No, thanks."
"Maybe it would if I took one." 

"Whatever you're giving me," she said, "I hope I don't like it."
"You'll have to keep them anyway, because the man at the Aquarium said he positively wouldn't take them back....

"You like Nick a lot, don't you, Nora?" Dorothy asked.
"He's an old Greek fool, but I'm used to him."

"Tell me the truth, Nick: have I been too silly?"
I shook my head. "Just silly enough."
She laughed, said, "You're a Greek louse," ....

I have read all five novels by Dashiell Hammett and some of his short stories. The Thin Man is by far the must fun and entertaining.

A Piece of Work and other books by Stephen Gaspar are available on Amazon. Click here!

Shakespeare and Depression

I cannot say for certain if William Shakespeare ever suffered

from depression, but I am certain he understood it and he

instilled some of his characters with the disease.

In the opening scene from The Merchant of Venice, the merchant

Antonio confides to some friends:

In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:

It wearies me; you say it wearies you;

But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,

What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,

I am to learn;

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,

That I have much ado to know myself.

Most of us who suffer from depression do not always know

why we do or where it comes. What we do know is that it

wearies us; we feel tired from it and it can also be tiresome

to the ones closest to us.

That I have much ado to know

myself is true to those who know that the way we act and

feel sometimes is not our true selves.

Antonio’s friends try to diagnose his problem, but the merchant

denies he is sad because of business or love.

Salarino simply sums up Antonio’s problem:

Then let us say you are sad,

Because you are not merry

In Scene II Portia reflects Antonio’s mood.

By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of

this great world.

Nerissa tells Portia she has no right to be sad since her

good fortune outweighs any misery. I am sure this is the

advice some people give their friends suffering from

depression. But for those suffering from depression it is

not simply a matter of counting our blessings when all

we can do is focus on our problems.

In Hamlet, the melancholy Dane confides in his two school friends:

I have of late--but

wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all

custom of exercises;

Depression is of course the opposite of mirth or happiness,

and when we are depressed we are prone not to take care

of ourselves because we simply do not care about our wellbeing.

Hamlet sees things in a negative light.

... this goodly frame, the

earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most

excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave

o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted

with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to

me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

This negative attitude naturally leads Hamlet to

contemplate suicide.

To be, or not to be…

In Macbeth the new king’s depression is brought on

by his sinful acts. Macbeth echoes the sentiments

the depressed often feel:

...I am sick at heart...

...I have lived long enough…

At one point Macbeth asks a doctor if he cannot

cure this disease.

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,

Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,

Raze out the written troubles of the brain

And with some sweet oblivious antidote

Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff

Which weighs upon the heart?

The doctor replies:

Therein the patient

Must minister to himself.

This is only partially correct. The oness for our depression is

mainly on us. The Catch 22 is that the depressed person may

not have the wherewithal to minister themselves.

When Macbeth says:

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

-- it signifies that the depressed mind sees life as meaningless

or as a cruel joke.

In Act 3, scene 4, Macbeth reflects on the uselessness

of trying to recover from his state:

… I am in blood

Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,

Returning were as tedious as go o'er:

Many often feel that is just as easy (or difficult) to stay in our

depression than to try to get out of it, and so some do not try.

World Mental Health Day is October 10. Here is a link for

World Health Organization.

https://www.who.int/mental_health/world-mental-health-day/2018/en/

In Canada Mental Health Awareness Week is October 6-12

In Canada, Mental Health Week is May 6-12. Here is the link

to the Canadian Mental Health Assoication.

https://mentalhealthweek.ca/

In the United States, Mental Health Month has been held in

May since 1949. This is the link for Mental Health America

http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/may

Stephen Gaspar’s books can be found on Amazon

Raymond Chandler & A Piece of Work

While writing my latest novel, A Piece of Work, one of the writers from who I sought inspiration was Raymond Chandler. For me Chandler is one of the great  detective/fiction authors of the hard boiled and noir style. Chandler is famous for his detective Philip Marlowe who appeared in seven novels.

I love Marlowe's commentaries on people and things, especially the ones that were tinged with derision.

“She’s a charming middle-aged lady with a face like a bucket of mud and if she has washed her hair since Coolidge’s second term, I’ll eat my spare tire, rim and all.” 

“There was a sad fellow over on a bar stool talking to the bartender, who was polishing a glass and listening with that plastic smile people wear when they are trying not to scream.” 

“From thirty feet away she looked like a lot of class. From ten feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from thirty feet away.” 

These somewhat cynical comments suited my drug-addicted protagonist Lee Linville. Chandler inspired me to write lines like:

"The dark-haired woman who sat behind the dirty glass was young, but looked all washed out. Her makeup, that should have enhanced her looks, only made her look grotesque. Her face was pale and looked like a slice of stale bread."

"On his head sat a grey Porkpie hat with a pale blue band. From the corner of his mouth hung a smouldering Robert Burns cigar. He looked like a respectable bum.

"She looked at Lee with tired eyes that said her life had not turned out the way she'd hoped. Hell, who's life ever does?"

In The Simple Art of Murder, Chandler wrote of his detective:  "But down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective in this type of story must be such a man. He is the hero, he is everything. . . .  He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world."

Where as Chandler's Marlowe is the archetype detective; tough, brave and honest. Marlowe is brutally honest about American society in the 1940s and 50s. 

“Real cities have something else, some individual bony structure under the muck. Los Angeles has Hollywood -- and hates it. It ought to consider itself damn lucky. Without Hollywood it would be a mail order city"

“Americans will eat anything if it is toasted and held together with a couple of toothpicks and has lettuce sticking out of the sides, preferably a little wilted.” 


My anti-hero Lee Linville is not tough or brave or even that honest. Lee is deep into drugs and depression due to his past. In 1959 Lee is living in New York City and is contemptuous of modern society. 

"Linville watched Fullerton walk away and out of the diner. The lawyer joined the teaming masses on the street and blended into them, becoming one with them. One big mass like some giant organism that pulsated and moved along, picking some up and dropping some off, like any living thing that took in food and shitted it out. The thought of it made Lee sick."

"Traffic on the street was heavier now. Street lights told people when to stop and when to move. Pedestrians choked the street and traffic choked the pedestrians. Soon it would be unbearable: the crowds, the noise, the deadpan expressions, the soulless eyes that took in nothing and gave nothing back. Lee knew that look. It was the look of a junkie."

 Stephen Gaspar's books can be found on Amazon

A Piece of Work on Kindle!

My latest detective novel, A Piece of Work, is a 1950s noir-style story that has just been released on Kindle. 

By 1959 Lee Linville is a junkie living on the streets of New York. He has turned away from the life as an investigator for his lawyer friend, William Fullerton, and has embraced the counterculture way of life. Fullerton comes to Lee with a job only he could do. Fullerton wants Lee to find a sixteen-year-old runaway from an affluent family who has also turned to drugs and is lost in the concrete jungle of New York.
Lee must fight against his addiction and his personal demons as his search takes him to the subways of Manhattan, the blues clubs of Harlem, the beatnik scene in Greenwich Village, and the rundown tenements of the Lower East Side. Along the way Lee encounters cops, drug dealers, pimps and a colorful assortment of fellow addicts. 
If this is a simple runaway case, why is someone trying to kill Lee before he can find the missing girl? 
As well as being a fast-paced detective story, A Piece of Work is a thought-provoking, sometimes moody look at life in 1950s America where the marginalized struggle with life on a daily basis.

Stephen Gaspar's books can be found on Amazon!

Allen Ginsberg in A Piece of Work

My new mystery/detective novel, A Piece of Work, takes place in 1959 New York City. There a many iconic settings in the novel, one being the San Remo Cafe at the corner of MacDougal and Bleecker Street. The San Remo Cafe opened in 1925 and was a regular hangout writers, artists
and musicians.

My protagonist, Lee Linville, goes to the San Remo Cafe one night with some friends. That night the counterculture poet, Allen Ginsberg, is also present. Here is an excerpt from the chapter entitled, The Beat Generation.

THE SAN REMO Cafe sat on the corner of Macdougal and Bleeker Street. A pillar sign stood out front and a low step from the sidewalk brought Linville and his party inside. The San Remo was more of a bar than a coffee shop. It had white tile with black star-like patterns on the floor. Despite its tall pressed-tin ceiling, the place was filled with smoke, the smell of beer and alcohol and an unending buzz of chatter. It was bigger than the last place, but filled with people. The clientele of the San Remo were classier than the coffee house as well. There were less black berets and striped sweaters here, and more jackets, ties and evening dresses. The place was lit by a number of globes that hung from the ceiling on chains.

    Aside from numerous tables and chairs, there were wooden-bench booths along the wall, but practically all the seats were taken.

    “What say we imbibe something fermented at the bar,” the Prof said, taking the pipe from his mouth. Lee figured he still had enough money for a few drinks.

    Dark wooden paneling lined the walls. A large mirror trimmed with woodwork was set behind the long bar. They maneuvered their way toward it. Lee ordered them all drinks from an old bartender who looked at Linville with veiled contempt. The bartender put four drinks on the bar and glared at Lee. Lee paid for the drinks with loose change. There was no tip. The bartender grunted his disapproval. Everyone picked up their drinks. Lee turned to see a man next to him was observing him closely.

    “Don’t let old Nino bother you,” said a well-dressed man to him. He had watched the exchange between Lee and the bartender. “Nino’s worked here twenty-five years ago when it was owned by the Santini family. Nino misses the days when this place was full of mobsters and their molls. They were big spenders. Now he has to put up with writers, poets and painters, who are cheap and broke.”

    The man introduced himself as George. He was a handsome, forty-five-year-old man with good manners and a classy fashion sense. George wore a pinstripe tan jacket, a butterscotch checkered vest, and dark silk tie. He had a martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

    “And what is your name?” George asked, with smiling dark eyes.

    “Lee.”

    George put his cigarette in his mouth and reached into his jacket. He took out a gold cigarette case, the type with a lighter built into it. George opened the case. “Lee, would you care for a cigarette?”

    Lee nodded. He took the cigarette George offered and the older man lit it with the lighter.

    “Have I seen you here before, Lee?” George asked.

    “I’ve never been here before.”

    There was a loud ruckus from a table across the room.

    “Well, you are in for a treat, Lee,” George said, and taking him by the arm he escorted him closer to the loud table.

    An empty chair was set on the floor and with the encouragement of his companions, a man climbed up and stood on a chair. He was in his early thirties and wore heavy horn rimmed glass. He was slim with thick dark hair that was starting to thin on top. He had dark soulful eyes, a heavy dark beard and mustache  and a full lipped mouth. He wore a tweed coat and a dark sweater over an open neck shirt. Someone handed him a book.

    “That is Allen Ginsberg,” George said. “Do you know Allen Ginsberg? He is a fantastic poet. I believe he is going to recite one of his poems.”

    The group surrounding Ginsberg cheered and shouted both encouragement and insults. They were all pretty drunk, but the poet did not slur his words, nor was he overly dramatic, but rather recited his work quickly and somewhat mechanical.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night…

    The poem took about twenty minutes for Ginsberg to read. Each time there was a mention of drugs or sex the crowd came to life with a communal ‘Whoaaaaaaaaa!’

I’m with you in Rockland

  in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

    The end was greeted with a rousing cheer and applause. Standing on the chair, Ginsberg bowed at the waist and then stepped off the chair and took his seat.    

    When the loud clamor died down and everyone returned to what they were doing before the poetry reading, Lee looked around for his companions. Lena and The Prof were talking with a group in the far corner, and Colleen had joined up with some young people more her age.

    “What did you think of Ginsberg’s poem?” George asked Lee.

    “What is it called?”

    “Howl.”

    Lee nodded. It certainly was that, he thought, like a madman howling at the moon.

    “That poem will come to identify this generation,” George said. “You certainly must relate to it, no? Does it not speak to your very soul? Does it not touch something deep in here” he said, and placed his hand on Lee’s chest.

    “It certainly howls at me, I guess.”

    “Yes, yes,” George said, enthusiastically. “In the rawness of the language it howls at the beast within you; that beast trying to get out. We are all savage beasts under the skin.” George raised his brows and cocked his head. “Would you like to meet him?”

    “Who? Ginsberg?”

    “You must meet him, you simply must,” George said, and taking Lee by the arm he made his way through the throng of people. 

All of Stephen Gaspar's books can be found on Amazon!