conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a description for a book titled What You See in the Dark about i.e, Hitchcock, Starred with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Mystery. Start with the sentence 'Starred Review'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Starred Review. Mu&ntilde;oz, the author of two short story collections (The Faith Healer of Olive Avenue and Zigzagger), uses the second-person voice to draw the reader into his stellar first novel. In 1959, the Director (i.e., Alfred Hitchcock) arrives in Bakersfield, Calif., to film Psycho, along with the Actress (i.e., Janet Leigh), who's struggling to get a handle on the character she will portray. Providing counterpoint to the events surrounding the making of the iconic Hollywood film, including the search for a motel to serve as the exterior of the Bates Motel, is the story of locals Dan Watson and Teresa Garza, whose doomed love affair ends in murder. The author brilliantly presents the Actress's inner thoughts, while he handles the violence with a subtlety worthy of Hitchcock himself. The lyrical prose and sensitive portrayal of the crime's ripple effect in the small community elevate this far beyond the typical noir. 10-city author tour. (Mar.) <BR>(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first paragraph for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: What You See in the Dark
  People arrive dressed as if it were a Saturday, all fine ties and shiny boots and dresses. No one licks their fingers after eating the chicken legs and taquitos, the plates carried away just as quickly as they arrived. Conversations float by in Spanish—all of them in Spanish. Some of the Mexican men have even come with blond American women, heedless of the hard glares. These couples have little to say to each other, though sometimes the women jabber on to fill the quiet space between them. Here, everyone is out in the open—it is clear who brought whom, who is being distracted, who is being worn away by jealousy, and who is going to be brokenhearted. It is not the drive-in, where the darkness lulls everyone into thinking that lust is an easy, clean jump over to the wide path of love on the other side. In the dim club, the true complications of being in love show themselves in flashes, like a wedding ring catching a burst of light. A dark-haired woman drinks too much for so early in the evening and you can tell she's trying but unable to leave the man who brought her. A very young couple sits over near the back, sitting so close together they seem almost afraid of being affected by everyone around them, and the way the young man nods at the girl when she comes around for an order—nods but doesn't say much of anything—you can tell that neither he nor his young date speak English. He is surprised that the girl takes his order in Spanish with ease. That man over there gives another woman the once-over, his hand distracted on his own date's back. Both women notice and look away in hard, granite anger.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: five more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Down the hallway, the door to her brother's room was wide open. Arlene stood in the quiet of the house, looking down the hallway, a chill that she found soothing in the morning air, how it had seeped inside, the doors open for the cross breeze. She stood long enough to listen to the house settle, a creak in the wood somewhere in the roof. She stood and looked down the hallway at the open door to her brother's bedroom, wondering if he was actually in there or if he'd gone off with the men for more drinking. The answer was right there, just a quiet tiptoe down the hall, the door already open. But instead, Arlene kept standing there, taking in the unfamiliar and delicious chill to the morning air. She was understanding that it did not matter if her brother was in that room right then. Her mother loved him. All that mattered was that he had returned and that life was going to change in their house.
  It was early yet and Arlene was tempted to turn the TV set back on. She was in no mood, though, for another unhappy teleplay, and instead she prepared for bed, turning off the lights in the house one by one and taking one last look out at the parking lot. With some guilt and some defeat, she turned off the motel's road sign, a little angry that Dan wasn't around to man the office in the evening hours like he had agreed. But no one was coming. She lay in bed and tried to get her mind to stop racing, to stop thinking of the motel's demise, and in her frustration she put her hand out to the empty side of the bed.
  Sleep came in a strange wave of images: Cal at the counter turning the pages of the newspaper; Vernon drinking from his coffee cup; the young waitresses wiggling their bottoms for the farmers. Sleep brought the Actress, too, enough to wake Arlene a bit to near alertness, wondering what had become of her, Cal never having seen anything in the newspaper headlines announcing a film shoot. She floated back into sleep, her mind flitting from image to image and refusing the clean slate of dreams, a sound thumping and thumping until Arlene opened her eyes, groggy, and realized the sound was real. She sat up, alert, and listened carefully as the faint thump came again, from Dan's room, and she recoiled for a moment at the possibility that Dan would dare bring that girl into the house when the motel rooms sat empty and secretive.
  She listened for voices but heard nothing except Dan's footsteps and drawers being opened and shut. Her nightstand clock glowed a surprising five minutes past eleven.
  The noise in his room stopped for a moment, and Arlene stood at the threshold of her bedroom, waiting to hear an answer, wondering why Dan was taking so long to respond when he had clearly heard her voice.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last five paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Something dark was forming in her throat. A burst of light was forming there. You tried to swallow to keep it from arriving.
  You wanted her to close her eyes. You had to force yourself to close them. You know she saw something. You wanted that girl to see something, and there was no going back once she did.
  MY THANKS TO EVERYONE at Algonquin Books, especially Elisabeth Scharlatt and Chuck Adams, who waited with such patient enthusiasm for this novel. Brunson Hoole and Rachel Careau assisted me tremendously in the final stages of production and I am deeply grateful.
  The New York Foundation for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Arts both provided me with generous support. I cannot express enough gratitude to the Mrs. Giles Whiting Foundation for the inspiration and confidence granted by its tremendous gift in 2008.
  Helena María Viramontes, as always, rushed in to assist when I felt most stranded. I aspire to such generosity, as well as to the spirit of support provided by my agent, Stuart Bernstein, a believer all along.