The Devil's Playground

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There is a rumor—again, a legend, almost—that a single copy, just one print, of The Devil’s Playground survived. Every piece of research I have done suggests that only one person could possibly know where that print is—the only person to have survived all the mishaps, on-set accidents, and mysterious deaths and disappearances that have given the movie the reputation of a cursed production. There’s only you. The only one left living.” Gloriously diabolical. A terrifying thrill ride through the hidden chasms of the human soul’ Chris Brookmyre Investigating Norma's death, Mary discovers the dark underbelly of that time where young girls disappeared, were used violently, and were discarded. The police are on the "take," and all the dirt can be swept under carpets. Under the glitz and glamour is a dark, dark world. At times, Russell’s taut dialogue and visual storytelling feel like watching a movie. (In fact, several of the novels in his German detective series, Jan Fabel, have either been made into movies or are in production.) The same descriptive skill comes to the fore when heintroduces Kansas-born Boy Lindqvist in an 1897 storyline. Lindqvist runs away to join the Dahlman and Darke Magic Lantern Phantasmagoria circus after witnessing its sleight-of-hand act “where a dark shape spread itself wide. Revealed its true form.” That form was Satan. And Satan spoke to him. Scottish writer Craig Russell is a master of his craft. He is as prolific in his writing — having published almost one book every year since 2005 — as he is diligent with the historical details in his gothic horror and thriller novels. His most recent, The Devil’s Playground , may represent his pinnacle. Russell’s exhaustive research of Prohibition-era Hollywood brings to life silver-screen stars amid an atmosphere of corruption, murder, and voodoo that features Beelzebub himself.

Addictive. . . the most sheerly entertaining novel I've raced through in at least a year. . . fresh, forceful, elegant but wild' A.J. Finn Because we had a row. A bad one. I told her I wouldn’t leave my wife. We’d talked about it before, but things . . . things are complicated.” Hi, Pops,” Rourke says, turning from the Mexican servant. “Thanks for the call. Have you notified the medical examiner yet?”

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Hollywood studio fixer Mary Rourke is called to the palatial home of “the most desirable woman in the world”, silent movie actress Norma Carlton, star of The Devil’s Playground. When Rourke finds Carlton dead, she wonders if the dark rumors she’s heard are true: that The Devil’s Playground really is a cursed production. But nothing in Hollywood is ever what it seems, and cynical fixer Rourke, more used to covering up the truth for studio bosses, finds herself seeking it out. And the writing is just … oh so good. Russell handles descriptions like a fine artist, dialogue like a playwright, and language like a poet. But it is never overwrought or cumbersomely pretentious. Instead, it’s sheer beauty. Literary, elegant, epic. I. . .” Huston looks up at her. “She said she would. I mean, she threatened to do it, like she’d threatened to do it before. It just seemed. . . it just seemed talk.” Rourke fixes him with her gaze. She knows Huston’s type. He’s a man in a man’s world; a man women want to have and other men want to be. The type of man who glides through life, charming and beguiling his way because nature accidentally gave his features particular proportions and a certain symmetry. But there is no guile in him now. No charm. No gliding. This story unfolds in 3 timelines, 2 in Hollywood and one in Louisiana. In 1927, a silent horror film is under production. When its star is discovered dead in her home, that is only the beginning of the tragic events that begin to plague the production of The Devil’s Playground. The movie came to be known as both the subject of a curse, and as the greatest horror movie ever made. Its legend was enhanced by the fact that all copies of the film were supposedly destroyed. In 1967, a film historian believes that he is on the trail of a single preserved copy.

In 1967, Paul Conway, a film expert is looking for what is rumored to be the only copy left of "The Devil's Playground." His search leads him to several of the characters who are still alive from the 1920s. The twists and turns of the plot were fantastic, and Russell uses an especially amazing twist near the end. I absolutely adored it. Intense, harrowing and hugely entertaining. Craig Russell conjures the kind of spine-tingling tale that kept me reading through the night. Spectacular. - Chris Whittaker Rourke recognizes him instantly, as would a quarter of the population of the world. She sighs, stifling a curse. A riveting 1920s Hollywood thriller about the making of the most terrifying silent film evermade, and a deadly search for the single copy rumored still to exist, from the internationally acclaimed author of The Devil Aspect. She stops and turns to him. He sees her features clearly for the first time, and a thrill of recognition runs through him. There remains a faded magnificence to her. Her hair is bright white against the dark tan of her face, but he realizes that, were she to dye it, she could pass for a woman twenty years her junior. What fascinates him most is that hers is a face he knows so well—not aged, as it is now, but in bygone, camera-­captured flawless youth. Looking at her now, he can see the fundaments of the beauty that had distinguished her younger self. It is, he thinks, like looking at some classical monument—like the Acropolis, or the Sphinx of Giza—where hints of the original, long-­distant splendor shine through the ravages of time.

I felt like there was a decent plot in here . . . somewhere under all the density and excessive descriptions of everything, but it was just too much work to get to it under and around all the padding. No problem,” says Geller. “Just a message. The boss wants to see you tomorrow morning. Because of this, I guess. Asked me to tell you, is all.” The cavalry,” says Rourke flatly. “How did you know she’d be dead? The maid phoned nobody but the police.”