Playing with memory is a classic noir device and setup and some of the younger authors have, at times, relied on drugs and alcohol to fuel these memory lapses to great effect. The main character in Frank Sinatra in a Blender tweaks this idea somewhat because he takes copious amounts of drugs and drinks an ungodly amount of alcohol but he instead comes from the Hunter S Thompson and Jimi Hendrix school of consumption. The heavy use of drugs doesn’t fuck him up; it levels him out and lets him operate.
I mention the good Dr. because Frank Sinatra in a Blender is like if Hunter S Thompson was a PI, except instead of all of the above drugs in the trunk of his car he carries around a chainsaw.
The plot here almost doesn’t even matter because the writing voice is so dynamic. The manic energy of the whole thing propels the reader forward on prose that the reader greedily snorts like rails of coke off a logo embossed mirror of a tittie bar on the wrong side of town. There is a stylized excess of violence taken to such an extreme that it becomes an exercise in black comedy.
Matthew McBride has proven himself a force to be reckoned with and with his first released novel he is one to watch. Frank Sinatra in a Blender is a lot of deranged fun.