Men’s Adventure Quarterly #1

 

Men’s Adventure Quarterly #1, edited by Robert Deis, Bill Cunningham, and Paul Bishop

January, 2021  Subtropic Productions

All fans of men’s adventure magazines owe a debt of gratitude to Bob Deis and Bill Cunningham, who have done what I thought no one else would do: brought men’s adventure magazines back into print for the modern day. Men’s Adventure Quarterly #1 reprints vintage men’s mag stories and art, with a new theme each issue. Under the “Men’s Adventure Library” Bob and Wyatt Doyle have published several books over the past few years, but Men’s Adventure Quarterly is special because it actually comes off like a vintage men’s mag – only a lot slicker and more professionally put together, and without that strange stink that most old men’s mags have! 

For make no mistake, Men’s Adventure Quarterly #1 is a work of art. The presentation is flawless, with eye-popping reproduction of cover art and a layout more in-tune with today’s readers – no dual columns of blurry typescript copy here. Also, Bob and Bill do something that the old men’s magazine editors apparently never thought to do: they group each issue around a theme. So as you can see, this first issue is devoted to Westerns. I should admit right at the start that I am not and have never been an avid fan of Westerns – I think there was a brief tangent as a preteen in the ‘80s that I was into Spaghetti Westerns and mabye read a Longarm or two – but regardless I really enjoyed all the stories here. 

I’ve collected about 50 or so men’s adventure mags over the years, but the majority of them feature Nazi She-Devils (here’s hoping that will be the theme of an upcoming issue!!) or other WWII stories. I’d never read any Western men’s mag stories, nor gone out of my way to collect any of them. What I found interesting is that they turn out to be of a piece with the other men’s mag stories of the era: most all of them open with the incident depicted on the cover or the story frontispiece, then flash back to show how the characters got to this moment, and then quickly wrap up by returning to that opening incident. Honestly I think there was like a DeVry school for men’s mag writers; practically every single story I’ve ever read follows this same template. 

Another nice thing the editors do here is provide an intro for each story, which I much appreciated; I’m going to assume Bob wrote most of them, as they read very much like his posts over at his blog. In each case we get an overview of the author, the artist, and maybe some background context on the story – even photos of the real-life personalities (for the stories that don’t feature completely fictional characters). As I say, the publication is clearly a labor of love. The three editors (Paul Bishop serves as guest editor this issue) did a good job of selecting the tales; there’s a fair bit of variety, and all of them are memorable. They also selected from a wide range of men’s mags, from higher-quality lines like Male and more sweaty ones like Man’s Life. However none of the stories are very long; there are no “true book bonus”-type novellas here along the lines of the type collected in vintage anthologies like Our Secret War Against Red China or Women With Guns. 

The first story is “The Old Shell Game,” by John Concannon, and it’s from the February 1953 issue of Male. The editorial intro says that this one’s unique in that it offers a “female empowerment” storyline, what with it’s buckskin-garbed blonde beauty of a gunslinger. But man, as it turns out, “female empowerment” is offered a resounding slap to the face by story’s end. The story is also unique in that it’s narrated by a guy in his sixties, one who even looks upon the buckskin beauty as a daughter or somesuch; what I mean to say is, the story doesn’t burn with that horny fire typical of men’s mag yarns. 

So anyway, the narrator (whose name is Bill, though we don’t learn that until the final few paragraphs) tells us how he was sitting in a saloon one day and this gorgeous blonde gunslinger in buckskin strutted in; she’s referred to throughout as “Buckskin,” and as with Bill it isn’t even until the final paragraphs that we learn her real name. Anyway the intro is memorable; she’s here looking for a certain scumbag, obviously intent to blow him away with her six-gun. But instead she – and the story – gets taken in an entirely different direction as Buckskin is almost suckered in the titular shell game, courtesy a thug named Frenchie. Once all that’s sorted out, narrator Bill implores Buckskin to spend the night in town, where she later informs him she’s searching for the man who killed her husband. Then Bill tells us in a humorously hasty conclusion that he’s able to talk her out of her blood vendetta! 

“Madams Of The Old West” is by Richard Carter and Glen Kittler and from the July 1955 Male. This is one of the stories that’s more nonfiction than fiction; the editors include a very insightful intro with real-world background info as well as photos of some of the madams discussed in the story. And of course they look a whole lot different than the smokin’ hot babes depicted in the story’s illustrations! Here we learn about such infamous Old West brothel owners as Poker Alice and the like, the authors doling out their histories and some of their more notorious affairs. Interesting, but too tame given the subject matter. 

“Trigger-Happy Marshall” is by Dean W. Ballenger and from the November 1956 issue of Stag. A big thanks to the editors for the shoutout they gave my review of Gannon #1! Their discussion of Ballenger was much welcomed, particularly their revelation that he wrote a countless number of men’s mag stories. Years ago I reviewed some of them. In particular I’d love to read the Nazi She-Devil yarn from ’63 that’s briefly excerpted in the intro – again, here’s hoping that will be a forthcoming MAQ theme. The editors state that “Trigger-Happy Marshall” isn’t as extreme as Gannon, but I thought it was a definite indication of the brutal vibe of that later series, given that the titular marshall is a psychopath who enjoys killing. Not to mention the dark humor that runs throughout. 

Sam Krell is that marshall, a short-statured lawman in Colorado who is known for his brutality. We’re told of how he has often killed crooks in cold blood – even gunned down newsmen who published critical stories of him – but the townspeople look away given how he keeps the place safe. But Krell has other goals: when a gang escapes with bank loot, Krell hunts them down, kills their leader…and takes over the gang. Here we’re told of the various sadistic campaigns they unleashed, including even brutal fights against Indians. Krell is a definite bastard; he would hire buddies to join his gang, and as a test of loyalty to be accepted one buddy would have to kill the other. After a few years of success Krell retires to a large cattle ranch, but when it’s destroyed by marauding Indians he returns to the town he started off in…and asks for his job as marshall back! I really enjoyed this one, and it had more action and violence than the typical men’s mag yarn – but not much in the way of sex. Indeed, Krell seems curiously disinterested in women, and his one depicted incident with a hooker is very odd indeed. 

“The Gunman Who Killed The Critics” is by Richard Gehman and from the February 1959 issue of Argosy. This one’s just straight-up reporting and is focused on the TV show Gunsmoke. Which I’ve never watched, thus I must admit I glossed over this story, given my lack of interest in the subject matter. 

“The Cowboy And The Dance Hall Floozy” by Bill Houseman is more along the lines of what I’m interested in; it’s from the April 1959 issue of Untamed. Here we have a strange revenge story: Crazylegs Moosberg, a half-Indian outlaw, is the last survivor of a gang and escapes to a small town in Colorado until the heat wears off. He comes into a saloon, one he finds deserted save for an attractive woman at the card table. She pulls a gun on him, saying she always knew he’d return. Here we have a strange flashback in which Crazylegs abruptly remembers how he got drunk in this very saloon, a year before, and murdered the girl’s husband after a game of cards. Something he’d plumb just forgotten about until this moment! The girl takes her revenge after an overlong but tense game of poker. 

“Say ‘No” To Laurie Lee…And Wish You Were Dead” is by Lou Cameron and from the September 1959 issue of All Man. This was my favorite in the issue; Cameron’s story is like a proto-Spaghetti Western with its tough nature and oddball assortment of characters. It’s also one I wish had been expanded into paperback length. I’d definitely read it! A Texas Ranger named Ben Harvey rides into a ghost town in Utah; he’s been tracking an outlaw, only to find him strung up with several others overtop a dry riverbed. Cameron effectively captures the eerie setting of the hanged corpses, their skin stretched taut by the desert sun. From here the story gets weirder; Harvey encounters an “idiot” girl in a “potato sack” dress that barely hides her shapely figure; she warns him to get out of town. But it’s too late, as Harvey meets the “law” of the town, a crazy old man who has discovered uranium and decided to stay here, the only other occupants being a slim gunfighter named Lee and two disfigured women: one with a hunchback and one with a scarred face. 

The old man, goaded on by Lee, accuses Harvey of stealing a horse and throws him in jail, for a “trial” the following morning. That night in his cell Harvey is visited by a mysterious woman in the darkness who begs, “Want me, cowboy.” After some undescribed all-night shenanigans, the mysterious girl takes off…and later Harvey is visited by another girl looking for love: Zenobia, the “idiot” with the killer bod. (Or as Cameron puts it, “The lovely young creature was obviously a hopeless idiot.”) More off-page fireworks ensue. Harvey manages to get out of the jail before his kangaroo court can commence, and the story climaxes with the memorable image of Harvey squaring off against a female gunfighter – one who is naked save for her pistol holster. Cameron skillfully moves the story along; it only runs a few pages but definitely makes an impression, and I can’t believe I’ve done reviews here for 11 years now and have yet to review a book by Lou Cameron! 

“Terror Of The All Girl Posse” is by Thomas Halloran (possibly a house name, per the intro) and from the January 1960 issue of Man’s Life. I’d seen the cover of this one before, with the cleavage-baring beauties rounding up some guy while another shapely female hangs in the foreground. And as ever the story opens depicting this very scene; a killer named Rivers has been captured by some “lovely executioners,” ie the female posse of the title. They’ve already killed Rivers’s woman, Maria; she’s been strung up, per the artwork, and now it’s Rivers’s turn. And par for the course we flash back to explain how we got to this moment. 

We learn of Sheriff Sally Wilcox, smokin’ hot 23 year-old leader of an all-female posse, how she got the posse together and the various crooks they brought to bear. But when we come back to the opening with Rivers we learn that Sheriff Sally, for all her bravado, isn’t that smart. For Rivers, as his “last request,” asks for a roll in the hay with Sally…and she complies! After the undescribed hay-rollin’, Rivers as expected takes Sally hostage and threatens to kill her, or else. But Sheriff Sally is willing to die for justice, as Rivers will soon learn. A fun story, but definitely could’ve been fleshed out more. But then, Man’s Life stories in general are too quick and underdeveloped. 

“Bloodiest Mass Murderer Of The Old West” is by Grayson Peters and from the October 1962 issue of A-OK For Men; this one returns to the pseudo-nonfictional vibe of “Madams Of The Old West.” This one’s about real-life personality Charles Stanton, who per the editorial intro was a businessman who was plagued with stories of being a sadistic murderer. It sounds like this isn’t known for sure – I’d never heard of the guy before, personally – but the story obviously doesn’t leave it a mystery. It opens with Stanton and gang brutally killing a family, Stanton wiping out the dad and teen sons and then personally seeing to the raping of the preteen girls. We go on to learn of his “gore-spattered career,” from killing prospectors to more raping. This one’s very much in the realm of the sweats, almost coldly documenting the various transgressions with no real verve to the narrative. The finale is memorable enough, with Stanton getting his balls shot off by a Mexican bandit he’s upset! 

“Saga Of Buckskin Frank Leslie: Slick-Shooting Dude From Tombstone” is by Jack Pearl and from the February 1964 issue of Man’s World. Pearl is another author I’m surprised I’ve yet to get around to reviewing; I actually have the two sleaze paperbacks of his the editors mention in their typically-insightful intro. Frank Leslie is another real-life Old West personality, one who made a name for himself – now forgotten by most – in the infamous town of Tombstone. We have appearances from lots of those personalities, like Wyatt Earp, but for the most part this fast-moving story focuses on Leslie, a guy from the mountains who still wears his buckskin proudly and who quickly makes a name for himself in town. This I believe is the longest story in the collection, and comes off more like a character piece, documenting his time in Tombstone. 

“Shoot-Out At Mad Sadie’s Place” is by Donald Honig and from the June 1967 For Men Only. This one has a great editorial intro: when compiling the stories for the book, the editors discovered that Honig was still alive, and also that he was happy to discuss his men’s mag work. He claims that High Plains Drifter was more than likely inspired by this particular tale. That was in fact one of the few Westerns I watched as a kid in the ‘80s during my brief Westerns interest, so I can see what Honig meant, as both this story and that film concern a gunslinger enterting a town hellbent on revenge. But wasn’t it implied that Eastwood’s character was a ghost? Or am I confusing High Plains Drifter with Pale Rider? 

This is a very entertaining yarn, one that certainly could’ve benefitted from more fleshing out. Indeed, the finale is so rushed as to be humorous. Pod Luken, a gunslinger who often has found himself on the wrong side of the law, has a brother who acts as sheriff in a small town, and the brother’s going to help Pod start a new life on the right side of the law in California. But then Pod gets a letter that his brother is dead – shot down by six gunmen from Texas. Pod heads in to town and scopes the place out; there’s a great part where he decides he doesn’t like anyone in it, given that none of them stood up to help his brother. To prove his point Pod goes around to various places and challenges the owners – ie, “What would you do if I didn’t pay for this beer?” and etc, to which of course the owners reply they’d grab their gun and demand he pay. Yet none of them were willing to do the same to help Pod’s brother. 

Pod sets his sights on the six Texans, taking out one of them in a whorehouse – a great part where Pod gets his own girl, goes upstairs with her, and starts snooping around for the room the Texan is in. But this will be the most elaborately-depicted revenge in the story. For as mentioned it’s way too short for its own good. Evidence of this is the female character, Molly; she’s the one who wrote Pod the letter, and as it turns out she was engaged to Pod’s brother. She’s a pretty young blonde, but the expected fireworks between her and Pod don’t ensue…likely because Honig didn’t have the space. Instead, she shows Pod who the Texans are, and Pod starts thinking over his careful revenge…and then it’s all rushed through as he gets in a running gunfight with them, one that climaxes in the titular bar owned by Mad Sadie. A great, fast-moving story, but one tarnished by an apparent restriction on the word count. 

“The West’s Wildest Hell Raiser” is by Jules Archer and from the January 1957 issue of Stag. The frontispiece for this one is unusual in that it’s a naked dude who is exploited: an otherwise-stunning depiction of the titular hell raiser, riding naked into town. Another novelty is that this incident doesn’t open the story, par for the men’s mag template, but is instead relayed in an off-hand line midway through the yarn. The opening is actually a brutal knife-fight the hell-raiser, Clay Allison, gets in with another guy for the rights to a watering hole in Texas. Clay wins the fight, but is left with a permanent limp. This one’s similar to the Frank Leslie story, documenting the various tussles this hotheaded guy gets into, but I found it pretty tame – even stuff like a blonde and a brunette getting in “a hair-pulling match” over Clay isn’t exploited nearly as much as it should’ve been. 

After this we get some wonderfully-reproduced covers, and I found it interesting that the Western-themed men’s mags usually had men on the cover, whereas of course most men’s mags covers were known for their cleavage-baring women. That said, the editors do include a risque photo shoot in the issue, with an early 1960s lady posing in various states of undress; as I say, they do a wonderful job of recreating an actual vintage men’s mag, only with much higher production values. 

Again, a big thanks to Bob, Bill, and Paul for Men’s Adventure Quarterly #1. I really enjoyed it…and I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy the second issue, which focuses on ‘60s spy stories, even more!

Hot Bullets

Hot Bullets, by Brick Killerman
No month stated, 1981  Tower Books

Years ago Justin Marriott told me about this obscure “Adult Western” from Tower Books; at the time he wondered if Jay Flynn was the awesomely-named “Brick Killerman,” due to some sleazy similarities to Flynn’s Joe Rigg books. When Justin told me the book featured a “whip-wielding Mexican villainess,” I knew the day would come when I’d just have to read it. Of course it only took me like 8 years, but anyway…plus I’m not really into Westerns, and in fact this will be the first review tagged thusly on the blog.

It looks like Tower was trying to cash in on the then-recent Adult Western trend, which as everyone knows is basic paperback Westerns with an overlay of hardcore filth. Of course, these were the only kinds of Westerns I read as a kid – I vividly remembering reading one in the ‘80s about Bigfoot. It was like hardcore sex every couple chapters and then I think Bigfoot showed up at the end. In fact I think the author even worked in a female bigfoot. I can’t recall the title of the book, but I know it was an installment of a long-running series. Maybe someone out there will know the one I’m referring to, and who wrote it. But anyway, Hot Bullets was intended as the start of Tower’s own Adult Western series, but it appears that only one other volume was published: Hell’s Half Acre, which came out the same year and is even more scarce and pricey than Hot Bullets. I’d advise saving your money, though, as despite occasional flashes of ghoulish charm, Hot Bullets is for the most part a bit of an overwritten slog, saddled with some of the most unlikable protagonists ever. Even the hardcore Western screwing can’t save it.

The narrative style is certainly strange, at times coming off like a pulpy equivalent of Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian (which hadn’t even been published yet, but still). Sure, it’s got hardcore sex, gory violence, and outrageous situations, but there’s a ghoulish pall which hangs over the book, a focus on morbidity and desolation. And there are these strange flashes of sub-“literature” throughout, with the unfortunate caveat that “Brick Killerman” is often guilty of telling more than he shows. This is particularly true for his characters; he introduces them, then proceeds to info-dump details about their attitudes and beliefs, and their firefighting skills and such, and pretty much all of it would be better-served if we actually saw it instead of were told about it. But regardless, there’s a level of insight at times that’s well beyond what you would expect from a novel titled “Hot Bullets” by a guy named “Brick Killerman:”

This sort of stuff had me wondering initially if the book was another from George Harmon Smith, who would go to similar literary – but flabby – lengths in his work for Belmont Tower. But Smith, at least in what I’ve read of him, wasn’t nearly as bad with the narratorial exposition. And also, his stylistic quirks aren’t really in evidence here. In fact the writing style seems different from any other I’ve encountered on the blog…but damned if the tone isn’t identical to Jan Stacy, particularly to what he wrote in The Last Ranger. Hot Bullets features the same sort of ghoulish morbidity as Stacy’s work, even down to minor details – for example, there’s a fascination with corpses being piled up or otherwise put on display, and “Killerman” describes the 1800s southwest like it’s a radiated hellzone straight out of a post-nuke pulp. Hell, there’s even a sort of mutant afoot: late in the novel our “heroes” encounter a monstrous opponent who is eating a literal horse leg when they encounter him…plus he’s surrounded by piled corpses.

There are several other similarities, which I’m sure I’ll document in my usual nauseatingly-pedantic manner in the review, but long story short, I wondered toward the end of Hot Bullets whether the novel was actually written by Stacy, maybe even with Ryder Syvertsen. The novel was published just a few years before the two began publishing as “Ryder Stacy.” The only problem is the narrative style, which is very different. Then I remembered that George Harmon Smith was an editor at Belmont Tower; indeed, according to Lynn Munroe Smith was often used as a fix-it author on manuscripts. So heck, this book could’ve been the product of Stacy (with or without Syvertsen), with some post editing tinkery by Smith (or some other editor), lending the novel it’s unusual narrative style. Failing that, my backup theory is that J.D. Salinger wrote it. Perhaps with an assit by Thomas Pynchon.

Anyway, Hot Bullets takes place entirely in the American Southwest, eventually veering into Mexico. The date appears to be sometime in the 1870s or later. The author is vague on the date, but we are sort of told that the Civil War was eight years ago. Maybe. Honestly I’m not sure, but we can be sure at least that it’s post-Civil War, for our hero, a one-eyed outlaw in black named Chance, fought in the war and then went on to a successful career of banditry. The novel is almost tiring in how the reader must spend so long figuring out what’s going on, so I’ll make it easy and tell you the setup from the get-go: Chance led a gang of bank-robbers and ultimately came away with three hundred thousand bucks. But his sultry Mexican girlfriend Maria sold him out and absconded with the money. Chance was taken into federal custody for some years and now has broken out and is looking for revenge.

This is where the narrative picks up, but again, the above is material that takes the reader a good damn long time to learn. In fact Maria is the first “main” character we’re introduced to, and she’s initally presented as a damsel in distress, which flies in the face of her true character. A couple mean outlaws ride into a Mexican town on the border, so mean that one of them, for no reason at all, shoots some poor kid’s dog (which leads to the passage excerped above). These guys are here for Maria, who turns out to be a hotstuff Mexican babe who only leaves with them because they threaten to kill her brother. In between taunting her with promises of rape, the three reveal that they’re old prison-mates of Maria’s ex, Chance, and they’re here to find the three hundred thousand bucks she supposedly stole from him.

Then of course Chance himself arrives on the scene, making short work of the three outlaws – and then throwing Maria on her ass. This sets off the bizarre relationship between the pair. For the two go back to the town…where Maria engages Chance in a pages-consuming, explicity-detailed sex scene, one in which the author curiously seems more focused on describing Chance’s oral treatment of Maria and her “jungle of wiry hair.” (And nope, he isn’t referring to the hair on her head.) This sequence also contains the phenomenal line, from Maria: “I need you, my lover! I need your cock! Your balls!” As if all this wasn’t enough, a post-orgasm Maria brings herself to the brink again as she imagines castrating Chance, an explicity graphic sequence that’ll make any male reader sweat in anguish. But unfortunately after this Maria splits – you see, despite her “damsel in distress” intro, she’s actually the villain of the piece, sort of, and Chance will spend the rest of the novel trailing her across the blitzed, pseudo post-apocalyptic Southwestern desert.

We know Maria’s the villain because she tries to kill Chance, brazenly enough, right after their all-night boinkery…it seems she’s like hooked on his stuff, or something, though humorously later in the book we’re informed that Chance isn’t the most “well-endowed” of dudes…honestly the only time I think I’ve ever been informed that the studly hero of a novel has a small dick. Well as everyone knows, it’s how you use it that counts, and Chance must do alright by Maria…not that this keeps her from taking off and heading for Mexico to reconnect with her latest boyfriend, a notorious bandit leader named Nuego whom she claims now has Chance’s money. The entire setup is really dumb – I mean why would Maria just give three hundred thousand bucks to this guy, and why, after all this time, would Chance even think any of it would still be left?

Killerman keeps us from pondering such imponderables by throwing bizarre material at us – like when Chance, soon after setting out on the trail, runs into a gang of six outlaw women who are in the process of whipping two bound men. The women – only two of whom are even attractive, we’re informed, Killerman buzzkilling his own pulpy concept – close in on Chance, who proves posthaste that he has no problem with beating the shit out of female opponents. This fight scene goes on quite a long time, Chance not killing any of the women but pounding them all into the ground with some savage kicks and punches. He also proves he’s no ordinary hero when he refuses to free the two poor dudes, knowing full well that they’ll suffer the brunt of the women’s wrath.

Meanwhile Chance himself is being chased, by a blond haired bounty hunter named Neems – who gets the jump on Chance while he’s enjoying a bath. This occurs in another of Chance’s strange meetings with Maria; he catches up with her in an abandoned hotel, easily dispatches the men Maria has stationed there to kill him, then forces her to draw him a bath. After another attempt on his life, Maria gets away again, and after this Chance and Neems serve as the main protagonists of the book, with Maria not appearing again until near the end. Oh but before I forget, here the author for no apparent reason tries to tie in with the modern day, ie the nuclear war fears of the 1980s, when Chance tells Maria of an Indian shaman he once met who had a vision of the future, of “the eagle versus the bear” in a great global confrontation, after which the entire world would burn. The book is filled with random, pages-filling stuff like this.

Chance is able to talk Neems into not taking him in for the bounty but instead forming an “unholy alliance” with him, and seeking out the $300,000, which they’ll split. This clunky plot contrivance is explained in that Neems knows this territory better than Chance. And also, Neems can pretend that Chance is his prisoner, so the two will be able to travel easier. Or something. But really, when these two set out on the trail the novel really appropriates the vibe of The Last Ranger or even Doomsday Warrior, in that they just encounter one ridiculous (but menacing) character after another. First they encounter a trio of renegade US soldiers, who are escorting one of Chance’s old gang members; our heroes butcher the lot in a nicely-done firefight (Chance by the way carries a Navy Colt .44 and Neems a Colt Dragoon), after which they find themselves in possession of a Gatling gun.

The Gatling is soon put to use when the pair wipe out a legion of goons Nuego has implanted in a small town, after which Chance and Neems are rewarded with a pair of hookers. Chance, apropos of nothing, decides to go the “backdoor” route with his whore, who tells him, right in front of Neems and his hooker: “That always hurts so. Even though you’re not as big as others.” Neems gets a chuckle out of this – he himself is quite “well-endowed,” we’re informed, but Chance is undeterred, and thus we are treated to a few pages of buggery. The part after this is where my “Jan Stacy senses” started to tingle; Chance and Neems come out next day to find that the townsfolk have arranged the corpses of the slaughtered goons in coffins, lined up on the city street, and have turned the whole thing into a sort of thank-you ceremony…complete with a cake a local baker presents the pair! All of this is uncannily like something you’d encounter in The Last Ranger.

Strangely though, for an “Adult Western” the sex isn’t as frequent as you’d expect in Hot Bullets. It’s like our mysterious author realized this, for immediately after the all-night festivities with the two hookers, Chance and Neems run into those six outlaw women Chance tussled with earlier in the book…and the women propose an orgy to make up and let bygones be bygones. We’ll forget that some of them are supposed to be fugly; Neems takes on three while Chance gets three, and since he’s the hero he gets the two who are apparently pretty. This part also goes on and on, but like the other sex scenes in the book it fails to generate any heat, despite being explicit. In fact there is an unpleasant tone to the screwing throughout.

Another “I just walked out of a Ryder Stacy novel”-type character appears soon after: Piedmont, a moronic scalp hunter. This character really sent my Jan Stacy Senses to tingling, but again, I could be entirely wrong. And yet, shortly after this we get to the most Last Ranger-esque sequence in the book: the climax plays out in the City of Blood, nightmarish domain run by one of Nuego’s comrades, a place where corpses are piled high and death reigns supreme. The city is guarded by a 9-foot tall, hulking-muscled pseudo-mutant, exactly the sort of thing you’d encounter in Doomsday Warrior. When Chance and Neems – now with a captive Maria and Nuego with them – confront the massive guard, they learn that they must defeat him to gain entry into the city. This Chance does, somewhat unbelievably, in a rather quick fight.

The climax at least is suitably apocalyptic. Chance learns that most of his money has been used to fund the building of the City of Blood, but he’s able to get back the remainder. At this point all hell breaks loose, and the Gatling gun is once again used to memorable and gory effect. Chance shows his complete ruthlessness, though – and spoiler alert, but honestly the book’s so scarce and overpriced I figured I might as well spoil away and save you the time and money. Well anyway, Maria’s tied to a stake during all this…and Chance lights up some dynamite and tosses it beside her, doing away with her for good! After which he gets in a duel with Neems – and that’s not a spoiler, because the back cover already tells us this is going to happen. By novel’s end a lone Chance rides out of the burning City with half his loot, to return in Hell’s Half Acre – not that the book tells us this, or indeed even lets us know that this is intended as the start of a series.

The problem with Hot Bullets is that it just isn’t fun, which is odd given the pulpy setup. There’s just a dispirited air that hangs over everything, as if the life’s been sucked out of it. I mean when I read these books, I want the impression that the author is cackling with insane glee as he writes, but I don’t get that from Mr. Brock Killerman. Rather, I get the impression that he’s just going through the motions, and the spark of creativity is hard to detect. Save, that is, for the sub-literary flourishes…which don’t even really belong in a novel titled Hot Bullets, I’d argue. Anyway, I can’t say I hated the book, but I can’t say I really enjoyed it, either. I definitely remember liking that Bigfoot Adult Western a lot more, so maybe someday I’ll look for it again.