The compilation of short crime fiction in Expletive Deleted, edited by Jen Jordan, centers on stories filled with profanity and obscenities. The stories are varied in style and tone, mimicking the use of the most common curses. Although several of the stories are gold, some linger on while the author tries to make them more edgy by filling them with curses and outlandishly obscene situations. Just don’t be fooled by the title; the expletives have not been deleted.
Mark Billingham’s introduction is not to be skipped. It begins with a snippet of a letter he received from someone who read one of his mystery novels. The letter writer is up in arms over a few F-words and C-words strewn about a story filled with premarital sex, and Billingham uses the rest of the introduction to slam the people who write those kinds of letters. He explains why he uses the F-word so often in his books, describing it as “a beautiful, evocative, glorious word ...”
“It’s a verb, it’s a noun, it’s whatever-you-want,” he continues, and in no time flat lets the reader enjoy some of that profanity for themselves.
“Johnny Seven,” by David Bowker, was one of my favorite stories in the compilation. The humorous, cynical, frightening tale of three middle school boys begins as one is introduced for the first time to his classmates by a substitute teacher. The other two, best friends, know this kid is a real whack-job when he gets kicked out of the class in under an hour, then lights a cigarette in the hall. The two best friends take him under their wings when they see him getting beaten within an inch of his life by his father. Like most of the stories in Expletive Deleted, this one ends in murder.
“Every Ounce of Soul,” by Michael O’Mahony, was a short and sweet little tale that ended on the perfect note. The scenes transpire between the narrator sleeping with a married woman and being beaten by the husband in a parking lot. As the scenes emerge and evolve, a little more information is given each time, but ultimately the twist at the end seals everything up nicely. The last short paragraph even adds a little twist of its own.
Most of the stories are fun but forgettable. A couple stand out as particularly bad. As I read Nathan Singer’s tale “The Killer Whispers and Prays ... Or, Like a Sledgehammer to the Ribcage,” I began to just glance over words, and then whole paragraphs, wishing it was all over. If this wasn’t the longest story in Expletive Deleted, it sure felt like it. The characters revolve around so much it is hard to keep track of who is in each particular scene; their overly dynamic emotions also added to the confusion. Just to make it so it seems like Singer wants the reader to be thoroughly confused, he hardly ever addresses who is speaking in the dialogue. The story itself is difficult enough to follow: two lesbians, a jilted ex-lover, Iraq War flashbacks, and hallucinations of a talking baby.
Some stories come with a foreign twist, which works well for some and not for others. In Ray Banks’s “Money Shot” and Russel D. McLean’s “Pedro Paul,” the accents and slang take away from the overall story. It felt like they went to great pains to appeal to an audience that I wasn’t a part of. “Hungarian Lessons,” by Olen Steinhauer, has the foreign feel, but it doesn’t feel like a put-on, and actually adds to the story instead of detracting from it.
I was delighted throughout Expletive Deleted at the wide range of styles, tone, and plots that all orbited around sleaze, filth, sex, death, and words one wouldn’t speak in front of grandparents. It’s a particular shame that a few bad stories and a rotten one could knock the book back so much. The idea of the compilation is a grand one, and some stories just don’t feel like they hold up; Expletive Deleted deserved better. Here’s hoping another anthology comes from this one.
