PRONZINI PRESENTS

by James Lincoln Warren

I had intended to run Part II of my diatribe on the use of grammatical mood today, but after having read John’s review of Bill Pronzini’s Small Felonies with its attendant mention of my personal story about Bill, I thought it would be timely to share the tale with you all. After all, this blog is all about story-telling. I’ll get back to grammar next week.

I was friends with Marcia Muller, Bill Pronzini’s wife, before I ever met Bill. At the time, I was the assistant manager of The Mystery Bookstore in Los Angeles. Marcia had just published a new novel, and my boss wanted to ship the books to her at her home in northern California for signature. I had met Marcia when I worked for Barnes & Noble, and told my boss, who knew Bill and Marcia quite well, how much I had liked her. Since I could already presume an acquaintance with her, he gave me her email address and asked me to write to her asking her if she would sign the books for us. (Of course, we paid for all the shipping.)

Marcia’s reply was so charming that we exchanged several emails afterward.

Not long thereafter, I got to meet Bill. He wasn’t on tour at the time—he was in Los Angeles visiting friends. As is his custom, he dropped by all the mystery bookstores to say hello, and dropped by our store in particular because at that time, we had a vast collection of old mysteries, and Bill is an avid collector. (One of the reasons he is such an excellent editor of mystery anthologies himself.)

What lover of detective fiction wouldn’t be thrilled to meet the creator of Nameless? Especially when your opening line is, “I’ve met your wife, and I’m an admirer. I am very glad to finally meet you, too.”

We exchanged small talk, and I have to say that I have rarely met anyone as warm and outgoing as Bill Pronzini. And generous. His knowledge of the genre is profound, on par with Otto Penzler’s. His mastery of the genre is second to none. Janet Hutchings once told me that she regarded Bill Pronzini as the best living mystery writer.

But it wasn’t long before Bill delved into the purpose of his visit and disappeared into the back of the store, scouring the shelves for forgotten treasures. When he finally came back to purchase his discoveries, one of the books he had in his hands was a 1941 title published by a New York imprint, Alliance. Here’s the copy from the back cover:

NO SLEEP AT ALL is the second in the new line-up, the FINGERPRINT MYSTERIES . . . a thrilling series of fast-action murder stories . . . the kind you won’t forget in a hurry. We guarantee it! More, we’ve put an identifying fingerprint on every jacket, a fingerprint that’s your clue to a real, spine-tingling ALLIANCE mystery . . . to as exciting a yarn as ever stood hair on end.

At this point, the Gentle Reader may notice something about the author of this thriller.

As I looked at the book, I felt a bit of surprise. I thought I knew our inventory extremely well, but somehow I had missed this one. The coincidence, you’ll appreciate, is far too strong for me to have forgotten it once I had seen it.

“Gee,” I said, “I somehow missed seeing this. If I had known about it, I would have bought it myself. The author and I have the same name.”

“I actually already have another copy of this at home,” Bill said, “but this one is nicer. Do you want the old one?”

And a couple of weeks later, I got this in the mail:

I think that “Pronzini” must be Italian for “Prince”.