Shot In The Heart and My Dark Places

Some people just seemed doomed from birth. It’s like the universe should have done something, anything to stop their parents from meeting and if that couldn’t happen, then from breeding. Some people aren’t meant to be. Now imagine being the product of one of those doomed pairings. In the mid 1990s there was some vibe in the publishing world, letting two people who shouldn’t have been reveal their demons of family and death. Don’t believe me. Fine, but do this first. Read Mikal Gilmore 1995’s Shot in the Heart and James Ellroy’s 1996 My Dark Places.

In 2011, say Gilmore and wait for the response. You might get Lorelai or Rory from The Gilmore Girls. But you might get another response. Gary Gilmore. Doesn’t ring a bell? How about “let’s do it”, UTAH, the late 1970s and The Executioner’s Song? Gary Gilmore, life long criminal, murderer, shot to death by gun squad. Shot in the Heart is Mikal Gilmore’s memoir of his family and the long arm of doom that seemed to seep through the generations.

In a different universe or timeline, Frank Gilmore and Bessie Brown, never crossed paths, never traveled the country as Frank ran his scams and away from his past, never had four children. Out of the four Gilmore siblings, youngest son Mikal might have been dealt the best hand in life. His father died before he could turn on Mikal like his older sons. Mikal got to college, became a writer. But every step was shadowed by his family and especially Gary. Imagine being torn between wanting to obliterate your past and hating yet envying your older brothers.

But as Frank Gilmore was released from prison in the 1940s and reunited with his family, in California the lovely nurse Geneva Hilliker crossed paths with Armand Ellroy, accountant who claimed to work for film star Rita Hayworth. The kinder universe would have made this just a one night stand. But the universe likes to have it’s fun and a pregnant Geneva Hilliker became Geneva Ellroy.

Now you’re thinking “all right, there’s plenty of people who should never have gotten married. What makes Mikal Gilmore and James Ellroy so special?” Two searing memoirs that clearly show the seeds of doom the second their parents met? Handsome older con-men fathers who raised them with intense love? Love/hate from their beautiful mothers who should have known better? Sure Geneva Hilliker Ellroy had the sense to leave her abusive husband but her freedom wasn’t true freedom. No matter how far she ran or how much she drank, Armand’s presence was always felt. The specter of murder? Murderer  sibling for Mikal, victim mother for James? Trying to escape their post murder worlds with drugs and alcohol? Doomed relationships?

With Shot in the Heart and My Dark Places, the scandal and the name draws you in. But it’s the little things that catch you. The newspaper photo of young James, then still known as Lee Earle Ellroy, right after finding out his mother was murdered. Frank Gilmore, Sr doting on the tiny Mikal. Gary’s shirt with it’s five bullet holes preserved by a loving uncle. Tiny things. But ones that you’ll remember long after you’ve put down the book.

The Hilliker Curse: My Pursuit of Women: A Memoir

Right now I’m writing this on a ginger ale and Hershey Kisses high, holed up in my apartment watching people venturing in the ice storm wasteland, grooving to the tunes in my head, from Mr Computer, from YouTube while innocent Blacklight lies sleeping. Duran Duran is singing about “entering the atmosphere” but my mind is in the zone, a rat-a-tat-tat land straight out of James Ellroy.

Okay, the ginger ale and Hershey Kisses stuff is true. So is the Duran Duran (“Big Bang Generation” y’all…”greetings from the Big Bang Generation”). But the James Ellroy thing? Don’t get me wrong. I love me the hell outta some James Ellroy. Still regret not being able to get my paws on the signed hardcover copy of My Dark Places his publisher sent to Big Box Books back in the day. I can recite bits of LA Confidential (movie) and wish it had been a trilogy because the book was even more twenty kinds of awesome. I can remember Lloyd Hopkins almost being the hooker’s perfect man because he almost fit the sweater she bought for the perfect man. Heck I can even remember Cathy’s Court.

But slight and wee hardcover staring at me from the ottoman? Well…

Let’s pretend you’re Blacklight and the only exposure you’ve had to James Ellroy is being forced to watch LA Confidential by a girlfriend or wife. Do not pick up The Hilliker Curse: My Pursuit of Women: A Memoir. Let’s say you’ve read every single of scrap of Ellroy you can get your hands and know what libraries have which Ellroy books. Stay away from The Hilliker Curse. If you have a time machine and can go back a few years and prevent James Ellroy from writing The Hilliker Curse, please do so.

Okay, maybe The Hilliker Curse isn’t throw into the Marinas Trench bad (okay it is) but we’ve been to this rodeo before. Gigolo/Dad. Whore/Mother/Murder. Junkie/Freak/Writing/Redemption. Ellroy is Lloyd Hopkins minus the looks, the badge and the daughters. Woe to any woman who tangles with him. It’s almost as exhausting to read Ellroy’s tale of loves lost and regained as it is to be an Ellroy love. If only shedding Ellroy could be as easy as closing the covers of the book.