David Morrell is the Canadian-American author who created the character John Rambo in his critically acclaimed debut novel First Blood...
Wait, wait - come back! Give him a chance!
I've not read First Blood, but from reading Morrell's Black Evening, I'm pretty sure his prose was mangled beyond all recognition by Sylvester Stallone. One story here, Dead Image, hints at the truth behind Morrell's experiences with Hollywood...
"He doesn't act. He poses. It wasn't enough that he wanted eight million bucks and fifteen upfront points to do the picture. It wasn't enough that he changed my scene so the dialogue sounded as if a moron had written it. No, he had to keep dashing to his trailer, snorting some coke (for 'creative inspiration', he said), then sniffling after every sentence in the big speech of the picture."
You warm to David Morrell after that.
Black Evening collects short stories from throughout Morrell's career, many of which stand up well against the work of his contemporary, and obvious comparison, Stephen King. Here are tales of gruesome murder, black magic, haunted houses and deadly obsessions. In one story a writer buys a magical typewriter that writes trashly - yet wildly lucrative - novels, not matter what keys he hits. In another, a man is cursed by a Native American rainmaker so that storms follow him wherever he goes. In yet another, a college football team wins every game they play - as long as each player touches the head of strange little idol before kick off.
And then there's the story that drove me to seek out this collection, thanks to a recommendation from Pip. Orange Is For Anguish, Blue Is For Insanity is eerily close to Richard Curtis's recent Doctor Who episode, yet was written long before. It features an artist who is driven to investigate the hidden colours - and frightening truths - inside the paintings of Dutch master Van 'Dorn'. Not quite as emotional as the Curtis Van Gogh, but all the ideas are there for the taking.
Each story here is fast-paced, gripping and eminently readable. Only very occasionally does Morrell go a little too far for my delicate sensibilities - one description in the first story made me wince, partly from its graphic nature, partly from its rather un-pc prose. Then again, it was written in 1971, when the world was a rather topsy turvy place in such matters... and John Rambo was anything but a target for meathead mockery.
