Fast Times Big City by Shelly Frome
Publisher: Boutique of Quality Books (Feb 6, 2024)Description Fast Times Big City by Shelly Frome
In a bind, Bud Palmer finds himself at the crossroads when just about everything was on the verge. Like most people, Bud Palmer felt this was just another day. Though the era was drawing to a close, he assumed his life as a sports columnist in the subtropics, in keeping with the benign fifties itself, would go on as predictable as ever. But that particular autumn morning he was thrust into a caper that was totally beyond him, forced him to leave Miami and take the train to Manhattan, and suddenly found everything in this restless "Big Apple" was up for grabs, on the brink, at a dicey turning point.Fast
Times, Big City- A book review by Gud Reader
Shelly Frome's engrossing
mystery book "Fast Times, Big City" transports readers to the
turbulent and uncertain late 1950s. The narrative centers on Bud Palmer, a
Miami sports columnist whose life unexpectedly changes when he gets entangled
in a convoluted scheme. Bud finds himself in a world where everything is up for
grabs after being forced to leave his cozy subtropics for the busy streets of
Manhattan.
This novel masterfully
captures the essence of the era, blending historical authenticity with a
gripping narrative. Frome's writing is both evocative and engaging, drawing
readers into the vibrant and sometimes seedy atmosphere of New York City. The
characters are well-developed, with Bud's journey of self-discovery and
adaptation to his new surroundings forming the heart of the story.
As Bud navigates through
the challenges and dangers of the big city, he encounters a diverse cast of
characters, each with their own agendas and secrets. The plot is intricately
woven, with twists and turns that keep the reader guessing until the very end.
Frome's attention to detail and skillful storytelling make "Fast Times,
Big City" a must-read for fans of mystery and historical fiction alike.
Worth my five stars!!
Stella sipped some more wine and,
competing with the group in analysis shouting at one another, raised her voice
a bit, saying, “While we’re on the subject, what TV shows do you watch in
Miami?”
Raising his voice as well, Bud said,
“I hardly ever watch it. But my sister’s got a brand new Philco. She tunes into
shows like Father Knows Best, I Love Lucy, Ozzie and Harriet and the Colgate Comedy
Hour.”
“Of course. All harmless, avoiding any
hint of reality. During the commercial break, housewives are offered frost-free
refrigerators, freezers, laundromats and clock radios to keep them sedated.
However, when word slipped out about programs like Playhouse 90, Studio One,
the U.S. Steel Hour and so forth—live, shot on location in New York . . .”
She paused for a moment and nodded.
“Ah yes, New York. Like a lady carnival barker, enticing, promising endless
opportunities for the starry-eyed.”
Smiling, pausing once again and then
adding, “Seekers get on the buses and trains before they too turn into Ozzie
and Harriet. Willing to learn and catch the brass ring.”
Her words were lively but her tone remained as
casual as referring to new ice cream flavors at Howard Johnsons. Then her
slender body rose. She peered down on him and said, “Tell you what. I’ve got to
go feed Zelda my Persian cat and brush up on a reading for a new play. Where
are you staying?”
“Got a room at the New Yorker.”
“Perfect, the hotel that features the
most TV sets. As it happens, my friend Constance has the lead on Naked City at nine tonight. Think you can stay
awake that long and tune into Channel Four? As I was saying, these shows are
live, one shot and they’re gone, vanished into thin air.”
“But why?”
“Then forget it. How can anyone from
Miami who knows nothing of live, deep-delving
TV, rushing up here for some
hidden motive, possibly be worth my time?”
She walked away. Bud held still as
long as he could, rose up and quickly caught up to her, willing to latch onto
any lead. “Okay okay, what’s the deal? Anything within reason.”
Pausing at the front door, taking her
sweet time, she turned back to him. “Like everything else . . . ?”
“Bud. Just make it Bud.”
“Like everything else, Bud, it depends upon
the spirit of the moment. The quest for truth apart from all the masks and
reaching for the brass ring.”
“I hear you,” Bud said, although this
could be all a snag leading him nowhere.
Nodding, she broke into an all-knowing
smile.
The upshot was, Bud was to key on the
realities, meet her at ten the next morning at the Automat at Times Square
which was within easy walking distance from his hotel. She happened to be
making the rounds of casting agents in the vicinity after eleven. They’d have
coffee. Provided he’d had a glimmering of what she was talking about, she’d
provide him with a possible way of getting in touch with the starry-eyed young
lady in question as part of her never-ending crusade.
However, if it was all beyond him, if
he didn’t appreciate what Constance had to offer, it simply wasn’t worth her
time.
He nodded again, still having no idea
what the kicker was, followed her out, thanked Carmen who was greeting new
revelers, and wished her all the best. Carmen, in turn, gave him a dirty look.
Outside, before parting ways, Stella
smiled and said, “Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?”
“If it gets me on the right
wavelength, you bet.”
As she drifted off, he felt
emboldened, as if he might be getting somewhere. But as the streetlamps flicked
on and he neared the IRT Christopher Street stop in the late autumnal chill, he
began to have second thoughts. Stella Parsons might just be playing him for her
own amusement. Bud was totally out of his element and despite his track record
as a sharp sports reporter was truly unfit for this venture all along no matter
how hard he tried to make the best of it.
1 comment:
I'm so glad Gud Reader enjoyed 'Fast Times, Big City'! Thanks for hosting!
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