Iguana Love by Vicki Hendricks

My review of Iguana Love by Vicki Hendricks is up at spinetingler.

Check that shit out HERE.

Hit up her name in the labels to see my other reviews of her work.  Only one I haven't read of hers is Sky Blues and I will correct that oversight someday very soon.

Florida Gothic Stories by Vicki Hendricks

My review of the new short story collection from Vicki Hendricks, Florida Gothic Stories, is up at spinetingler.

Give it a look right HERE.

I think Hendricks should put together an anthology like Damn Near Dead or one of those, call it Pet Noir or Noirotica or some shit like that.

Or Pet Noirotica...

Catching Up #38: Cruel Poetry by Vicki Hendricks

Jesus fucking Christ it's been a good goddamn fucking while since I did a review, ain't it? Did you miss my ass, dear reader? No? Not so much? Barely noticed? Fair enough. I respect your honesty. I mean, I'm hurt, but I'll get over it. Hookers-n'-Blow still think I'm the fucking bee's knees, naturally.

But for the true fans, the folks that have not read a goddamn thing since my hiatus, the people who require the Nerd's seal of approval before venturing out to the bookstore, for you - the invisible, non-existent few - I will now drop a bit of fucking gold in your laps in the form of Vicki Hendricks' latest novel, Cruel Poetry. Okay, so I'm not dropping the actual book in your laps. (that would be fucking sweet, though, wouldn't it?), but I am dropping a review onto your computer screens, which is almost as good...in a not-nearly-as-fucking-good sort of way...

I know what you're thinking, dear reader. You're all like, Surprise sur-fucking-prise, Nerd. You like a Vicki Hendricks novel. Well, weary-of-the-world-douche reader, I...I guess I have no proper response. I likes what I likes and Vicki Hendricks fucking writes said shit I like like the mean motherfucker she is. Sex, violence, obsession, and dark, twisted comedy. How can a basement crazy like myself resist such a sick, heady brew?

I could just stop this fucking review right there, say read that shit, good night, 2-for-1's end at midnight, the lamb chops here are amazing but I'm a man of excess who likes to pad his reviews with curses. So let's move the fuck on to the plot description already, waddaya say?

Cruel Poetry is the story of a Miami hooker named Renata, a gorgeous piece of ass who seems to put a spell on all who get within a hundred yards of her. Julie, the shy struggling writer who lives in her building, is fast becoming obsessed with her, as is Richard, a married poetry professor and Renata's best customer. And really, how could they not want Rennie? She's beautiful, dangerous and just a slight breeze gives her a head-shattering orgasm.

But Renata's reckless lifestyle soon leads to dead bodies and vicious castrating gangsters, and both Richard and Julie gladly sacrifice everything to help her out of her increasingly bloody problems, even if it means their own doom...

And so the blood and other sticky bodily fluids flow (What? You thought the Nerd was above a fucking cum reference?) until it all comes down to a great and truly fucked up, deliriously operatic final act. A novelist known for her explicit sex scenes and a willingness to take her noir-soaked characters to the very fucking edge, Hendricks outdoes herself with Cruel Poetry.

Holy shit! Did you just read that last sentence? That was almost like a printable fucking blurb or some such bullshit. I gotta watch myself or I'll be on every other book cover like I'm fucking Connelly or Child or something (because I'm so fucking obviously that huge in the publishing world...). And would you look at that. Connelly is blurbed on the cover of this boo already. Color me fucking shocked.

Where was I? Oh yeah. Cruel Poetry. It kick ass. You read now. Nerd need beer.

Catching Up #20: Voluntary Madness by Vicki Hendricks

Vicki Hendricks is fucking nuts in the best possible way. She fuses James M. Cain-style noir with hardcore erotica without missing a beat and - here's the thing, dear reader - it seems completely fucking natural. And I'm not talking about like, fucking Evanovich uses erotica in her bounty hunter books (where she lamely talks about Ranger's taut muscles and steely eyes and all that lame-ass bullshit) - no sir. This stuff is "thrust his cock in her pussy" kind of stuff, no "engorged members entering her womanhood" neutered crap that wouldn't even make a Quaker read one-handed. This is FUCKING, this is PORNOGRAPHY, this is...fucking awesome. But naturally, The Nerd wouldn't even give a shit about any of that stuff if it wasn't at its heart, stone-cold noir.

Voluntary Madness is indeed that. But you knew that, didn't you reader-who-is-looking-at-a-site-called-Nerd-of-Noir. You knew the Nerd would not bend the rules just so he could talk about stroking it to some book. That's not his style, that's not why you're here. So let's just walk away from the steamy stuff and head towards the fucking BLOOD. You want tits and asses, might I suggest looking JUST ABOUT EVERYWHERE ELSE ON THE INTERNET.

Voluntary Madness is about Juliette and Punch, a star-crossed couple in Key West looking to live it up for a few months before they end it all at Fantasy Fest, go out in a blaze of glory befitting their crazy love. Before they off themselves the mission is simple: Punch will write an amazing book and the two of them will do crazy shit to "inspire" his creative process. Also, they'll fuck a lot and Punch will get drunk off his ass most of the time. Not a bad plan, but yeah, they are some crazy motherfuckers.

Their forced adventures start out simple enough. Juliette decides to flash people late at night. They break into Hemmingway's house to fuck. Shit like that. But as their final day approaches, the stakes are raised and the shennanigans start to get pretty fucked up - like batshit stupid violent fucked up.

What makes such a nutso story work is how deeply Hendricks is able to get inside of Juliette's naive little brain. She is our narrator and we come to see why she likes a puke like Punch, see how intense her love is, how ignorant and unworldly she is. It's a helluva trick to pull off and Hendricks succeeds beautifully. As the book goes on and shit gets crazier and crazier, we almost grow to sympathize with Punch when at first such a thing doesn't seem remotely possible.

Hendricks also packs the book with great Key West shit too - a town that she renders as both extremely appealing and pretty much as annoying as you thought it was (no matter what lame-ass Parrothead shitfuckers tell you). There's also great supporting characters like a hot lesbian Wiccan named Isis who wants some sweet Juliette ass and an overly friendly cop named Woodly...who wants some sweet Juliette ass as well...pretty much everybody is running around with their pelvises leading the way in Hendricks' Key West.

And that's the way it should be. The only thing more powerful than money in the noir world is sexual obsession. Hendricks knows that better than anyone currently writing crime and Voluntary Madness is a prime example of her wonderfully dark world view. I can't wait to dip into my handsome copy of Iguana Love for another sweaty, sick ride.

Catching Up #16: MIAMI PURITY by VICKI HENDRICKS

Vicki Hendricks, where have you been all my life? I just finished Ms. Hendricks' debut from the mid-nineties Miami Purity and sweet Jesus was it up my alley. I plowed through this fucker in toot-sweet and wanted more when it ended.

Hendricks doesn't hold back on anything - sex (especially sex), violence, creepy/disturbing/disgusting stuff - she takes it all the way, pushes the reader's tolerance past the normal limit until you're just shaking your head at the depravity of it all. In other words, I dug it something fierce.

We follow Sherri, a bartender/stripper in her mid-thirties looking for a change in sunny Miami. She's spent her life thus far working sleazy jobs and fucking sleazy men and thinks she has found salvation when she comes across a Help Wanted sign at the Miami Purity laundry - a Help Wanted sign and handsome manager with a gigantic cock named Payne Mahoney.

Payne seems innocent and sweet and totally fuckable, but is lorded over by the owner of Miami Purity Brenda Mahoney, his mother. Sherri becomes obsessed with Payne, envisioning him as the opposite of everything she's ever been apart of - good Catholic, a mama's boy, beautiful, tidy, etc. Now if only his drunken bitch mom weren't around...

The story basically plays like The Postman Always Rings Twice only with the roles reversed and the narrator is a white trash. And it's packed with graphic sex. And graphic violence. And is totally disgusting. For those out there not familiar with James M. Cain, think of Miami Purity as a blue collar Jason Starr novel. For those of you not familiar with Jason Starr, how the hell did you end up on this site?

So yeah, sort of a short one this time out but I honestly don't have anything more to say about the boy, primarily because I'll run the risk of ruining some nasty surprises. The Nerd of Noir just doesn't want to be that guy.