MONICA WANTS to be loved like all the other pretty girls in Bangkok. But sometimes getting what you want isn't healthy. Her body is discovered decapitated in her cold-water apartment room. A case holding an ancient black magic spell is missing from the scene.
JOE DYLAN ventures into the Bangkok City bars. The detective follows a trail leading to the Demon Dreams, a Bangkok S&M joint run by a beautiful transsexual and her mentally deranged brother. Joe discovers a world of bizarre nocturnal acts and black magic rituals. A seedy Bangkok underworld that picks-up fallen women from the streets and throws them into an evil world of torture and murder.
Step into the RED NIGHT ZONE - BANGKOK CITY - the sequel to Newman's neo-noir pulp thriller BANGKOK EXPRESS.
Since the release in 2012 Red Night Zone has sold well over two thousand copies in kindle, print and audion editions. The follow up book The White Flamingo is being adapted into a feature film. For both titles we are looking for translations into German, French, Spanish, Italian and Russian.
THE HOTEL was guest-friendly with hourly rates and had enough room to swing a cat if it were a small cat and you wanted to swing it. The bed had seen more action than Arnold Schwarzenegger and the chair had seen more assholes than a retired proctologist. Wardrobe. Telephone. All the basics. There was an attached cold water bathroom. The tour brochures labelled the room mid-range. Joe had forgotten most of the weeks and months that he’d been living in that mid-range hotel. The city at night was a maze of neon reds, pinks and blues, snakes, rats, cockroaches, guides, bargirls, taxi drivers, market traders; all monsters intent on steering the uninitiated into disasters and despair: funnelling the lost into disillusions too dark for consideration, too broken for repair. Joe was the modern-day lamp-boy shepherding the weak and vulnerable away from the darkness.
Cases fell from the sky like guavas here and there and landed with a thud. He picked them up. Looked at them. He dug about in vice and got a nose for it. He was a fraud investigator turned private asshole. How much lower could you get? Fidelity, lack of, missing persons, balcony jumpers, piss artists, families of piss artists, assholes looking for answers. For some the answer was a twenty-dollar hooker. For some it was chicken fried rice. For some it was a temple on top of a mountain, a prayer mat and a yoga routine. Some liked the cockroaches, meat on a stick, cold cans of coffee. Raw sewage, broken sidewalks, tantric meditation. For some the answer was a small hot room and four blank walls. A bottle of pills and a pint of tiger sweat. For some the answer was simple. Jump.
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Italian
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Rosaria Algozzino
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Roberto Vega
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