It's no secret that I hold a profound admiration for Robert Bloch's Psycho, the 1959 horror novel that screenwriter Joseph Stefano masterfully adapted into Alfred Hitchcock's classic film of the same name in 1960. While my affinity for Psycho and its sequels—excluding the completely unnecessary 1998 shot-for-shot remake by Gus Van Sant, which I prefer to forget—runs deep, my heart truly belongs to Hitchcock's 1954 thriller Rear Window, starring James Stewart and Grace Kelly. Hot on its heels is 1940's Rebecca, a cinematic classic, largely due to my newfound love for Daphne du Maurier's works. And then there's that nostalgic tie between Psycho and 1963 The Birds, a film loosely rooted in du Maurier's short story. The latter, alongside 1964's Marnie, has sparked intense debate over the years regarding the alleged mistreatment of actress Tippi Hedren by Hitchcock—a dialogue ignited by Donald Spoto's The Dark Side of Genius: The Life of Alfred Hitchcock (1983) and echoed in Spellbound by Beauty: Alfred Hitchcock and His Leading Ladies (2008). The latter work inspired the BBC/HBO film The Girl in 2012, which escalated claims of Hitchcock's purported sexual harassment of Hedren, a matter fiercely contested among those who worked with Hitchcock and film scholars alike

This backdrop leads us to the recently published A Century of Hitchcock: The Man, the Myths, the Legacy ^[*] by Tony Lee Moral, who, as a chronicler of Hitchcockian lore, aims to unravel these lasting narratives. With a fresh perspective grounded in new archival research, unpublished interviews, and a critical reevaluation of existing biographies, Moral challenges the entrenched views that have shaped Hitchcock's reputation over time. He carefully revisits the contentious claims regarding Hitchcock's supposed abuses, particularly scrutinizing Spoto's portrayal of his relationship with Hedren. Through the lens of Spoto's interviews, Moral reveals contradictions within longstanding claims and shines a light on the embellishments and distortions that have tainted Hitchcock's legacy for too long.

Once upon a time, I never thought I’d find myself jumping headfirst into the world of WWII nonfiction. It’s not that I harbor any aversion to history; rather, my childhood was steeped in tales of the Civil War, with my nose buried in every book within reach. Who knew that the barrage of documentaries I was subjected to in history class would dull my appetite for anything related to WWII? Yet here I am today, contemplating Michael Benson’s Hollywood vs. Nazis: How the Movie Studios Took on Nazis Infiltrating Los Angeles, published by Citadel Press, which is set to grace bookstore shelves tomorrow, March 31, 2026. An unsolicited ARC found its way into my hands several weeks ago, and I have to admit, nestled among my growing collection of nonfiction, it sparked a flicker of excitement, even if the subject matter revolved around WWII.

The book unfolds with All Quiet on the Western Front, an Academy Award-winning classic that sent shockwaves through the Third Reich with its potent anti-war message. In their anger, the Nazis crafted a sinister plan to seize the most influential propaganda machine on Earth: Hollywood. What could be more tantalizing than to turn the land of golden dreams into a glorified mouthpiece for their vile ideology?

Hollywood vs. Nazis is a riveting account of corruption, censorship, and the hubristic ambitions of a dictatorial madman hell-bent on global domination. Michael Benson, an author with a rich background in chronicling organized crime, weaves together the intricate history of WWII with the glamour and grit of Los Angeles’s movie industry. He paints a picture of how passionate figures within Hollywood, bolstered by tenacious lawyers, legendary moguls, and unsung patriots, succeeded in unearthing and dismantling the creeping menace of organized Nazism in Los Angeles and beyond.

Hello, fellow Friday 56ers! 

This week, I'm featuring You with the Sad Eyes: A Memoir by Christina Applegate. I tried my best to obtain a review copy but was unsuccessful. I briefly considered ordering a copy, but luckily, I found it at a Walmart in a neighboring county that actually stocks its bookshelves. Note: I live in a small town with no actual bookstores, but there's a Walmart that has unfortunately downsized its already limited book section by half and then failed to restock it. 

Hollywood is in a slow fade, and the reasons are as varied as they are troubling. Perhaps it’s the dominance of streaming platforms, or the rise of anxiety surrounding AI. Maybe it’s the political correctness that seems to permeate every script, or the disheartening lack of originality plaguing contemporary cinema. Whatever the cause, the younger generations appear indifferent to the once-glorious lights of Hollywood; they'd rather lose themselves in the fleeting entertainments of TikTok and YouTube. I might not be young anymore, but my passion for film, especially the classic Hollywood of yesteryear or the golden age untainted by CGI excess, remains strong. The current trend, where studios expect to recoup their lavish budgets during the opening weekend or risk relegation to a quiet home streaming release, makes it no wonder theater ticket prices are skyrocketing; who wants to shell out their hard-earned cash for a product that feels so out of touch?

This rant is fueled by my recent encounter with The Last Kings of Hollywood: Coppola, Lucas, Spielberg―and the Battle for the Soul of American Cinema ^[*] by Paul Fischer, the same author who brought us A Kim Jong-Il Production. As I write this, I realize I have a copy of the latter sitting unread on my shelf, a testament to my own chaotic reading habits. You may be wondering who these "last kings of Hollywood" are. They’re none other than the legendary trio: Francis Ford Coppola, George Lucas, and Steven Spielberg.

In the summer of 1967, as the old Hollywood studio system crumbled, a determined young film school graduate named George Lucas began his first day on the Warner Bros. lot as an assistant to the then-largely unknown Francis Ford Coppola, a boisterous father of two with a creative fire. Simultaneously, on the Universal Studios lot, a film-obsessed twenty-year-old named Steven Spielberg yearned to break free from his apprentice shackles and carve his own path as a director.

What is it about real-life murders that captivates us? I'm speaking of the small, twisted cadre of true crime aficionados. Yes, I’m talking about the YouTubers who reduce complex cases into palatable, clickbait summaries, often disregarding vital details, pointing fingers erroneously, and displaying a blatant ignorance of the facts—all in the pursuit of fleeting views. You may have noticed that this is my second true crime review this month, and some of you might wonder if I'm steering this blog in a different direction. The answer, for now, is no. But I do intend to challenge myself as a reader, and that may lead me toward more nonfiction.

This brings us to today’s focus: In Cold Blood ^[*] by Truman Capote. A peculiar figure in American literature, Capote was not only a gifted writer but also a childhood neighbor and friend to Harper Lee, author of To Kill a Mockingbird. Although many of you may not have cracked open Capote’s “nonfiction novel,” you’ve likely encountered it through discussions or the acclaimed 2005 film Capote, in which Philip Seymour Hoffman portrayed the author. This film beautifully captures Capote's journey alongside Harper Lee as they traveled to Holcomb, Kansas, fueled by an article about the 1959 Clutter family murders he read in The New York Times. Capote became so engrossed in the case that he set out to write what would become In Cold Blood. With Capote’s flamboyant style often viewed as off-putting by locals, Lee took on the role of interviewer, taking reams of notes that would go largely unacknowledged. Over the years, Capote formed a complex relationship with the killers, Perry Edward Smith and Richard "Dick" Hickock, visiting them in prison, corresponding through letters, and eventually witnessing their executions in 1965. He was also the subject of the 2006 film Infamous, and In Cold Blood has been adapted into both a 1967 feature film and a 1996 miniseries.

Welcome back, dear readers. It feels like I’m welcoming myself back to my Gunsmoke & Grit series, which has been collecting dust in the corner while I navigated the fog of burnout over the last few months. But here I am with a review of Clint: The Man and the Movies ^[*], published by Marnier in 2025 and written by Shawn Levy—not to be confused with the director. Now, I know this isn’t Western fiction, but let’s face it: Rowdy Yates graces the half-jacket, which made it impossible for me to resist featuring it in my Gunsmoke & Grit reviews.

Somehow, this book slipped under my radar when it was released last summer. It wasn't until I unwrapped it as a Christmas present that I discovered its existence. I cracked it open on January 5th and savored every page until I finished it on January 13th. Yes, I took my time, but that was intentional—I wanted to relish every word and fact about my favorite actor, Clint Eastwood.

Here’s my take on the blurb: From Shawn Levy, an acclaimed film critic and New York Times bestselling biographer known for his work on Paul Newman, this definitive biography of Clint Eastwood offers a revelatory glimpse into the life of a Hollywood titan. For more than sixty years, Clint has dominated the silver screen as one of the most prolific and versatile actors and directors in cinema history, embodying the very essence of American culture.

C-L-I-N-T. This single, sharp syllable has become a symbol of American manhood, morality, and a fierce, unyielding spirit—both on-screen and off—for over six decades. Whether he’s confronting villains in a dusty Western (Old West or new, it makes no difference) or commanding the director’s chair, Clint’s presence is as raw, honest, and solid as his name suggests. He’s not just another star of the old-school variety; he’s one of the most accomplished actor-directors of his time; a man forged from rock and iron—a relentless force named Clint.

I found myself plunging into a maelstrom of thoughts that kept me awake for days, questioning my own grip on sanity while reading William J. Mann's riveting nonfiction release, Black Dahlia: Murder, Monsters, and Madness in Midcentury Hollywood ^[*]. I lost track of time, crossing the threshold of late-night hours, a period traditionally reserved for the likes of vampires, witches, and serial killers. Even when I finally set the book down and placed a trusty bookmark to mark my place, sleep eluded me. My mind raced back to Elizabeth Short, known to the world as the Black Dahlia. I found myself time-traveling to January 1947, imagining the last moments of her life as she stepped out of the Biltmore Hotel. Where had she gone? Who had she encountered? What secrets lay buried in the six days before her lifeless body was discovered on the morning of January 15, 1947, cruelly severed at the waist, drained of blood, and left in a vacant lot in Leimert Park, Los Angeles, her mouth twisted into an eerie Glasgow smile? The identity of her killer or killers remains a haunting enigma after nearly eight decades, their anonymity a cruel twist in a tragic tale. Many have claimed to unravel the mystery—detectives, amateur sleuths, and researchers peddling the thrill of their theories for a quick profit. Yet I refuse to buy into the claims tying the Zodiac Killer or George Hodel to her tragic demise. What we have here is an unsolved murder, and the darkness it casts lingers still to this day.

Elizabeth Short has been unjustly painted as nothing more than a wayward wannabe actress or a wandering prostitute—a stereotypical femme fatale in a film noir flick deserving of her fate. Mann shatters these misconceptions with his extensive research, revealing her as a spirited young woman of curiosity and resolve, daring to push against the confines of a postwar society that expected women to settle down, marry, and raise children. It’s high time we reexamine the woman beneath the Black Dahlia moniker. Through a modern lens, Mann intricately weaves Short’s narrative into the fabric of a nation grappling with shifting ideals, demographics, and the ghosts of old fears masquerading as new ones. Only by situating her story in this tumultuous landscape can we grasp the tragedy of her existence.

Through Gunsmoke & Grit, I'm excited to share my musings on fictional Wild West tales. However, I occasionally wander into the realm of nonfiction, like with Brothers of the Gun: Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, and a Reckoning in Tombstone by Mark Lee Gardner—set to gallop its way into bookstores on November 11, 2025, courtesy of Dutton. I was fortunate enough to snag a digital ARC from NetGalley many moons ago, and I deliberately refrained from reviewing it until just the right moment, when the publication date was close enough for a proper showdown.

Given the title, you can probably guess that this book is about the lives of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday—those legendary gunfighters whose names have been etched into the annals of history thanks to a thirty-second shootout at a little spot known as the O.K. Corral. But their storied friendship didn't kick off in that fateful moment in 1881; oh no! It all began back in the raucous cattle town of Dodge City three years earlier. Picture this: Wyatt, an assistant city marshal, is outnumbered by a pack of rowdy, armed cowboys. Meanwhile, Doc is comfortably perched at a monte table in the Long Branch saloon, a man of leisure—until he spots Wyatt's trouble. In true heroic fashion, Doc bursts out, two revolvers drawn, shouting, “Throw up your hands!” Startled, the cowboys comply, and off they are led to jail. Wyatt credited Doc with saving his skin that day, igniting a friendship as volatile as gunpowder.

As many of you already know, I don’t typically venture into the realm of nonfiction unless a topic truly ignites my interest—it’s a guiding principle of mine. After all, why waste time on something that doesn't spark curiosity? This brings me to Born Lucky: A Dedicated Father, a Grateful Son, and My Journey with Autism by Leland Vittert (with Don Yaeger), set to hit the shelves on September 30th. Mark your calendars and make sure to snag a copy ^[*]; you won’t regret it. Although the book is marketed under the categories of family and relationships, and Autism Spectrum Disorders, I prefer to label it an inspirational memoir—because that’s exactly what it is: a raw, unfiltered glimpse into the life of someone who has navigated the complexities of living with autism.

So, who is Leland Vittert, you ask? Picture this: you’re flipping through channels and stumble upon Leland hosting his nightly national cable show on NewsNation. He appears a composed journalist, deftly drawing out insights from his guests as if he’s some sort of interview wizard. If you’ve witnessed his work over the years at Fox News Channel, you’ve seen him reporting from the most intense hot zones—from the ravaged battlefields of the Middle East to the polished anchor desk and the chaotic grounds of the White House. Curiously, no one—friends or colleagues—has ever truly known the extraordinary story of his life and the incredible journey that led him there.

Didn't I just say it was too early to dive into Christmas-themed books? I’m not losing my marbles here; I distinctly remember shouting this in another review. Yet, here I am, gleefully thorny about yet another book that really should've waited until the leaves started turning and the air turned crisp—preferably November or December—not September, for crying out loud! It’s not even Halloween yet! Jeez. But enough with the nitpicking; let’s get on with the meat of it...

Last week, out of the blue, an ARC of The Heart of It's a Wonderful Life by Jimmy Hawkins landed on my doorstop like a snowflake in July. Hawkins, the man who played the adorable Tommy Bailey in the 1946 classic, brings to life a story that was surprisingly born as a flop; back in the day, audiences didn’t quite know what to make of it. This book, more of a novella at 183 pages, turned out to be a quick read for me, courtesy of the fine folks at Harper Horizon. I’ve got a stack of books that would rival a skyscraper, and this happened to be my second unsolicited read of the week. Normally, I would brush these aside, but something about this one piqued my interest—maybe it was my greedy hands savagely reaching for nostalgia.

But I digress.

In this delightful little book, Jimmy Hawkins leads us to the heart of what makes It’s a Wonderful Life resonate with audiences—even today. It’s not just about an iconic message or unforgettable lines; it’s about the sheer unstoppable passion behind its creation, fueled by the vision of director Frank Capra.

Many weeks ago, I received the newest Ripley's Believe It or Not! annual, "Mind Blown!" And to be completely honest, I was surprised the 17th annual was released. If you aren't living under a rock, then you would know 2020 has been downright horrible with the pandemic, riots, lockdowns, and elections. So, it's impressive that Ripley Publishing was able to put together another edition full of new astonishing and weird facts from around the world.

AMAZON

Do you dream of becoming the poster kid for Christian perfection? Then get ready to be baptized in the glorious waters of modern Christian Culture!

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*Join The Right Church - See how to ditch that group of hopeless losers holding you back and find a church that's built around you.

 *Vet Your Pastor - Assess his command of sermon acronyms and alliteration - plus his grasp of dynamic gestures.

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Wait! There's Much More - like acting the church potluck and serving the church without lifting a finger. This book is filled with everything you need to be your best spiritual self, even a free inspirational coloring page!

Final Thoughts