Eight questions for Sam Hawken, author of The Dead Women of Juarez

The Dead Women of Juarez was one of my favourite summer reads of 2012. It’s a hard-boiled crime novel set against the backdrop of the real life horror taking place in the Mexican city of Juárez, across the US border, where as many as 5000 women have been murdered since 1993.

I recently posted a review of this book here. The book’s author, Sam Hawken, was kind enough to agree to answer some questions by e-mail from Texas about his work.

What was the inspiration for writing The Dead Women of Juárez?

The story of the dead women is inspiration all by itself. I first found out about the problem while visiting Amnesty International’s site looking for something else entirely and immediately I thought it would make for a good story. It’s hard to beat real life when you’re coming up with ways people make other people miserable.

One of the things I liked about your book was the way you were able to set a hard boiled crime story against the backdrop of such horrific real life events, without trivialising or sensationalising them. Crime fiction is an excellent way of holding up a mirror to society’s problems but it can be hard to do. Was that something you were conscious of when you were writing and was it difficult to pull off?

The only thing I really thought about was making sure that everything that happened revolved around a key event in the book, an event that related directly to the plight of the dead women. I didn’t want to write something that tried to wrap the whole problem up in a bow, which is something Jennifer Lopez tried to do in her 2006 film, Bordertown. I felt that if I could make the larger issue relatable on a personal level, it would be more real to the reader. I’m not sure how difficult it was, but I can say that I didn’t enjoy the experience.

I think the key characters in the book are very well drawn, particularly Kelly Courter, the washed up boxer, and Sevilla the grizzled Mexican cop. Did you base either of them on real life characters?

They are not, though Kelly gets his name from middleweight boxer Kelly Pavlik, who was on my mind in 2007 when I wrote the book. He’d just beaten Jermain Taylor to become WBO/WBC middleweight champion.

Sevilla is not based on a real person, per se. I was, however, thinking of Giancarlo Giannini when I described him physically, and in my dreams if/when The Dead Women of Juárez makes it to the TV or movie screens, he’s playing the part.

Your bio says you are a Texas native. Your depiction of life in Mexico seems pretty graphic and realistic. I assume you have spent time in Mexico? If so, was that in Juárez? Tell me about that.

I was born in Texas in 1970, so I had many years to visit Mexico before the narco trouble started in 2003. I once spent three weeks traveling through the heart of the country, visiting lots of small towns and villages, so I feel I know Mexico fairly well. I still do not speak the language well enough to make myself understood, however, and that’s something I very much want to correct.

As for Ciudad Juárez, I have been there, though not since before 2003 and definitely not since 2006, when the city exploded. It happens that Juárez just recently (within the last couple of weeks), lost its title as the murder capital of the world, with a 38% drop in killings in 2011. It’s still averaging more than five deaths a day, so I don’t plan on going back anytime soon, but maybe things are finally starting to get better.

What was involved in researching the back ground to what has occurred in Juárez?

It all started with the meager information Amnesty International had on their site. From there I went on to visit the sites of various groups inside and outside Mexico that advocate for women’s issues, including the feminicidios. After that it was a matter of reading Mexican media, which can be extremely gruesome. I also must acknowledge the book, The Daughters of Juárez, by Teresa Rodriguez and Diana Montane with Lisa Pulitzer. It’s a tremendous book and required reading for anyone interested in the deaths. I referred to it often while writing.

The Dead Women of Juárez is a pretty accomplished effort for a first book. While it may be your first published book, I’m curious to know is it first one you tried to write? What do you think helped you get it right?

I started writing novel-length fiction in the early ‘90s that could not be more different from what I write today. Back then I wrote lots of cyberpunk, a science fiction subgenre that was going out of style before I even put my fingers on the keyboard. I was, as you can imagine, not very successful. I then took a break from writing anything for about ten years (1996-2006), and returned to it with a couple of novels that have not, to this date, sold. So it kind of depends on how you count as to how many manuscripts I produced before The Dead Women. I call it number three, disregarding my first efforts from the ‘90s.

As far as how I got it right, I’m still in the dark about that. I genuinely hated writing The Dead Women and I thought it was terrible when I finished it. When I heard back from my agent that she thought it was “brilliant,” and authors like Dave Zeltserman raved, I was bewildered. Every time a good review comes in, I’m always a little bit amazed, because clearly these readers are seeing something in the writing that I did not, which makes me doubt my own judgment regarding the quality of my work.

Every time I read a story about the rape and murder of women in Juárez, I am left wondering why it is that no has been brought to justice. No justice system, including Australia’s, is perfect and justice systems are particularly imperfect in parts of the developing world. Even so, I find the notion that so many people can be killed, so brutally without anyone being caught, mind-boggling. What, in your opinion has led to this situation? Why have the police proven so inept in catching some of those responsible? Why do these killings continue with such impunity?

Well, depending on whom you talk to, the perpetrators of many hundreds of these killings have been caught. A bunch of bus drivers were rightly convicted of murdering women they singled out on their routes, and a (probably innocent) Egyptian man had over a hundred killings attributed to him, though murders with the same MO occurred after he had been jailed. The authorities explained this away by saying he was somehow paying street gangs to carry out additional killings to make him look guiltless. There are a few others I’m aware of, but those accusations and guilty verdicts are deeply tainted by stories of police brutality leading to false confessions.

After finishing the book and sending it on its merry way, I checked out the aforementioned movie, Borderlands. In that film it’s postulated that the authorities don’t do much to solve these murders because it’s bad for business. Ciudad Juárez is a major locale for maquiladoras, factories where all sorts of goods, high tech or otherwise, are made for the American market, and by and large the women who vanish are working girls who toil in these places for dollars a day. While that makes for a nice, conspiratorial theory, I suspect the answer is a little simpler and actually somewhat more unpleasant: women just aren’t valued as much as men, and the oftentimes sexual nature of these crimes makes the women look guilty of something even though they are the victims. It’s akin to rape victims being castigated during trials for their sexual behavior, as if they were “asking for it.”

You have mentioned that you are working on another book, due out later this year. Tell me about that.

Tequila Sunset is all done and bound proofs are due in February, so the wheels are already well in motion for a September 2012 release date. In this one we return to Ciudad Juárez, but we also spend time on the American side of the border in El Paso, Texas. El Paso is, somewhat bizarrely, the safest city in the United States though it is a literal stone’s throw away from one of the most violent cities in the world. Bullets from Ciudad Juárez sometimes fall in El Paso.

The book follows three characters: Flip Morales, a paroled convict involved with the infamous Barrio Azteca street gang of El Paso/Juárez; Cristina Salas, an El Paso detective who works the city’s gang unit; and Matías Segura, a Mexican federal agent whose purview is Azteca activity in Juárez. It is estimated that Barrio Azteca is responsible for as much as 85% of the murders in Ciudad Juárez, and these three are caught up in the middle of that activity. There’s more, of course, but I don’t want to spoil potential readers. Expect a broader picture of the situation and an expansion of the human element already present in The Dead Women.

 

The Dead Women of Juarez

It’s a tough sell setting crime fiction against a backdrop of real life horrors without coming across as sensationalist or trivial. But this is precisely what Sam Hawken attempts to do in his first book, Dead Women of Juarez, and pulls it off fantastically.

The real life horror in question takes place in the Mexican city of Juarez, just across the border from the United States. Juarez is famous for two things: as a magnet for multinational companies seeking cheap, mainly female, labour, and the fact since 1993 as many as 5,000 women have been murdered there and no one has been brought to justice.

Hawken inserts into this picture the fictional character of Kelly Courter, a washed up, junkie boxer who makes a living as a punching bag for younger, hungrier Mexican fighters. As a sideline, he traffics and sells drugs for Esteban, his friend and the brother of Kelly’s on again, off again girlfriend and women’s rights activist, Paloma.

Kelly is in self-exile in Juarez, escaping the legal and moral consequences of a fatal mistake, the details of which we learn much later on in the book. It’s a day-by-day struggle to survive in a tough town, constantly being shadowed by grizzled Mexican narcotics cop, Sevilla, apparently intent on busting Kelly for his illegal activities.

Hawken introduces the horror of what is happening in Juarez with a slow burn, not a bang, through the posters of missing women on telegraph poles and the fear of women on the street. I can’t say much more without giving the story away. Paloma disappears and Kelly comes off a major drug binge to discover he is the prime suspect and his fate is in the hands of Sevilla, a man with secrets and ghosts of his own, in many ways as much as stranger in Mexico as Kelly.

Hawken’s writing is sparse and basic. His bio says he is a Texas native. If so he must have spent time in Mexico because his depiction of the violence, poverty and fleeting beauty of the country feels like it can only have come from first hand exposure.

The book has its problems. In particular, the ending felt too quick and forced. But these don’t distract from its many strengths. Dead Women of Juarez is a gritty, gripping noir. Like the best crime fiction, it is also holds a mirror to some pretty horrific realities and a fight for justice that shows no sign of being won anytime soon.

If this is what Hawken does with his first novel, I’m looking forward to his next.

Dead Women of Juarez is available through Serpent’s Tail.

The Devil All the Time and other summer reading pleasures

No matter how stressful the Christmas/New Year period is (and mine has been pretty stressful for reasons I won’t go into here) there’s always the chance to read.

This year’s been no exception. I managed to knock off several books I’ve wanted to read for a while.

The first was Dead Women of Juarez by Sam Hawken. This was a great hardboiled read, especially for a first novel. I particular admire the author for having the guts to set the story amid the real life horror story in the Mexican city of Ciudad Juarez, where since 1992 as many as 5,000 women have been murdered and no one has been brought to justice. I’ve done a longer review of Dead Women for Crime Fiction Lover and will post it to this site next week.

Another author I’ve been wanted to check out is Vicki Hendricks, who writes erotic noir fiction set in Miami. Her 2007 book, Cruel Poetry, took me back to the mid-nineties when Miami-based crime fiction was huge. The city’s crime rate was through the roof, Elmore Leonard was based there and writers like Carl Hiaason and Edna Buchanan were best sellers.

This book is very different to the other Miami crime novels I can remember reading, in a good way. The main characters are a hedonistic, python owning call girl named Renata and her shy, voyeuristic wannabe writer neighbour, Julie. Renata attracts trouble like a magnet. One of her regular Johns, a poetry professor called Richard, is dangerously infatuated with her. Then there’s the shit that’s stirred up when Julie accidently kills another of Renata’s customers. The women have to employ a couple of low life criminals to dispose of the body but of course they fuck it up. Cruel Poetry is a wonderful little tale of murder and blackmail, featuring a love-triangle with a difference.

Also on my list for a while has been The Adjustment by Scott Phillips, which I read as an e-book. I’d heard a lot about this one, and it lived up to the hype. It’s a wonderfully bent little tale in the best of pulp tradition of Charles Willeford. The main character is Wayne Ogden, a devious, violent ex-US soldier who returns to life in sleepy Wichita after WWII. He spent the war as a supply Sargent cum black marketer and pimp. Upon his return he gets a job as a fixer for the corrupt, skirt chasing owner of a local aircraft factory, which is where things really get complicated.

But the absolute knock out of my most recent reads is The Devil All the Time by Donald Ray Pollock. My enjoyment of this book is matched only by the difficulty I’ve had trying to describe what it’s about and how good it is to people.

The Devil All the Time is a violence soaked multi-generational gothic novel set in the backwoods of Ohio and Virginia. It opens with the return of a soldier from the carnage of the Pacific war and his drift into religious madness over the terminal sickness of his wife. The other characters include a couple of evangelical Christians who perform at church services (one of whom has a bizarre side-line involving spiders), a corrupt backwoods law man and a husband and wife team of roaming serial killers who like to photograph their dead victims in sexual positions.

This is rural noir with major kick. But no matter how sexually and physically deranged things get (and they get very deranged), Pollock avoids the temptation to play the story for cheap thrills. There is real humanity in these stories, even the most wretched of his characters struggle for meaning.

Pollock’s bio says he dropped out of school and worked a succession of blue-collar jobs before taking up writing and The Devil All the Time is his first book. He also has a collection of short stories called Knockemstiff, which I’ve just ordered.

Seriously, just take my word and read this book. It’s the product of a dark, unhinged brilliance and I loved it.

Cruel Poetry and The Dead Women of Juarez are available through Serpent’s Tail Press. The Adjustment is available as an e-book on Amazon. The Devil All the Time is available through Random House.

The Empty Beach

One local blog I’ve been following for a while now is Permission to Kill, run by my mate, David Foster. Its main focus is all things espionage fiction and film related, but David also covers of on a wide variety of pulp miscellany, including crime fiction and film.

I was particularly pleased to see a recent review on his site of the excellent but little known1985 Australian crime flick, The Empty Beach. Starring Bryan Brown, Ray Barrett, Nick Tate and Belinda Gibbin, The Empty Beach is based on the Peter Corris novel of the same name. David was nice enough to let me re-post his review, which appears below.

Bryan Brown IS Cliff Hardy. It is perfect casting. It’s a shame that this film wasn’t a hit, because I would have loved to see Brown play Hardy again and again. He could be doing it to this day, pumping out a tele-movie each year – and I would be first seated, ready and eager to watch it. But alas, not to be.

For those not familiar with the character of Cliff Hardy, private investigator, he is a creation of Peter Corris and first appeared in the novel The Dying Trade in 1980. Since then he has been releasing Cliff Hardy stories regularly – at least thirty of them – the last I am aware of, is Appeal Denied which was released in 2007. I am sure Corris has released a couple more since then. I realise I could quickly validate this with a quick Google search, but after the Christmas break I am a bit short of cash, and if I don’t know that they exist, then I won’t go hunting for them.

The story, which is set in Sydney, starts with a wealthy businessman (for that read black marketeer and poker machine king), John Singer, who is about to go for a pleasure cruise on the harbour with his mistress. But they are greeted at the docks by some shady looking characters. That is the last that is heard from Singer. It is surmised that he fell overboard that day and drowned.

Two years later…
Cliff Hardy meets Mrs. Marion Singer (Belinda Gibbon), who wishes to employ him. She has received a note from an anonymous source, claiming that her husband is still alive – but not looking too well. She realises it might be a hoax, but wishes Hardy to look into the matter.

Hardy’s investigation leads him to a newspaper reporter, Bruce Henneberry (Nick Tate), who reported on Singer’s disappearance at the time. Henneberry thinks something fishy is going on, and it is related to his latest piece of investigative journalism. He also has all the dirt on the city’s corrupt politicians, businessmen and gangsters. He keeps this dirt all on a series of tapes that he has stashed away. But things turn messy when Hardy witnesses Henneberry’s murder, in the surf, at Bondi Beach. Then it becomes a race to track down Henneberry’s tapes, with Hardy, the police, and Sydney’s underworld all set on a collision course.

The Empty Beach is an old school detective movie, but set in Sydney in the 1980s, which means some of the music, fashion and haircuts have dated. But other than that it still holds up quite well. It is played lean, hard and fast with all the requisite plot convolution that a detective story like this should have.

At the time of writing, The Empty Beach remains sadly unavailable of DVD (or Blu-Ray), which I think is criminal, because the film, for movie-watchers who love the genre, is well worth watching.

Crime Factory issue 9 is out

A quick heads up that issue 9 of Crime Factory is out.

Highlights include a full length interview with US crime writer Scott Phillips (whose excellent book, The Adjustment, I finally got around to reading over Christmas), fiction by Dan O’Shea, Tom Piccirilli, Ray Banks and host of others, as well as our true crime column, ‘The Deposition’ and a host of other material guaranteed to satisfy all fans of noir, pulp and hard-boiled crime fiction.

My regular column ‘Setting Sun’ focuses on the rise of South Korean crime cinema, with reviews of three films, The Yellow Sea, LEE Joeng-beom’s The Man From Nowhere, and one of the most controversial films to come out of South Korea, I Saw the Devil.

You can download issue 9 as a PDF at out brand spanking new site here. A Kindle version is in the works, and will hopefully be out in the next week or so.

The site also has a reprint of an interview from the Crime Factory vault with US writer James Crumley (author of crime classics The Last Good Kiss and Dancing Bear, just to name a few) and blogs by regular columnists, Ray Banks, Leigh Redhead, Eric Beetner and the Nerd of Noir.

And that’s just our opening shot in terms of what the Crime Factory gang has in store for you this year.

So what are you waiting for? Get over there are get some.