Journalist. Palindrome. Writer.

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James Renner is an award-winning journalist, and author of True Crime Addict, the definitive book on the Maura Murray disappearance. He also hosts the podcast, The Philosophy of Crime. In 2019, he founded The Porchlight Project which raises money for new DNA testing and genetic genealogy for Ohio cold cases. In May, 2020, James Zastawnik was arrested for the murder of Barbara Blatnik, thanks to the work of genealogists funded by the Porchlight Project.

Go See This… The Hobbit 3D at 48fps

Caught a screening of The Hobbit at Valley View in Cleveland last night. This is the only place in NE Ohio where you can see it in 3D at 48 frames per second, in XD sound, the way God and Peter Jackson intended. A single ticket sets you back $14. But is it worth it? What is 48fps really like? Here are my impressions the morning after.

Remember that scene in The Prestige where Hugh Jackman shows off his Tesla transporting machine for the first time and that old stage producer is sitting there and kind of jumps in fright when old Hugh disappears and then reappears behind him? The old man says, “Forgive me. It’s been so long since I’ve seen real magic.” And then he warns him to “dress it up” a bit so the audience can still pretend it’s just illusion. That’s pretty much what it was like.

All the critics and nerds whining about how the 48fps makes the film look fake have it wrong. It makes it look too real. More than you’re ready for. For me, it felt like I was at Hale Farm and Village, that Civil-war era community they took us to in gradeschool. It felt like I was immersed in a artificial setting watching people act out a scene around me. It’s so real you become aware of the characters in a way we are not used to. And that’s the best way I can explain how it feels. It feels more like a stage production than any film you’ve ever seen. But that’s not bad, in my opinion. It’s just a different experience. It might be film but it’s not a MOVIE and it shouldn’t be called one. This is something new. So new, there is no name for it.

You know what would really be fucking cool in 48fps? A courtroom drama. Something like 12 Angry Men. Something where you’ve got real people in a real, tight situation. That’s how they should have introduced 48fps because it’s so goddamn real it messes with your mind when you see things like fighting rock giants and trolls and orcs. The immersiveness of the experience is telling you, holy shit, that’s a real goddamn goblin. But your mind is too smart for that. It insists it can’t be real. And then you’re spending all this time fighting with yourself. It kind of pulls you away from it.

For all its faults, you owe yourself to go see this movie in 48fps/3D. It will remind you of how you believed in real magic when you were a kid.

 

Read This: Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn

You don’t really need me to tell you to read Gone Girl. It’s this year’s “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” with all the appropriate zeitgeist.

But if you’ve been hiding under a rock, here’s what it’s about: you know those stories you see on the news all the time? The ones where the pretty young wife disappears and the husband starts acting all suspicious? Yeah, it’s that story. For the first half, anyway. Then, oh my lanta! Then the novel becomes somethings else — a thriller in the tradition of Hitchcock, full of wonderful melodrama.

Having a little experience with novels that take a sudden, jolting turn hundreds of pages in, I understand how difficult this book must’ve been to get published. Gillian, her agent, her editor, her publisher all deserve a pat on the back (and a raise!) for taking such a risk. As a reader I love this kind of mind-fuckery. There’s not enough of it in the literary world–and make no mistake, Gillian is literary, even if she’s hiding behind genre. Here’s one of my favorite sentences: “Maybe it was my conscience, scratching back to the surface from its secret oubliette.” That’s literary.

I had the pleasure of meeting the writer at a book fair in Ohio last month. She signed it for my wife, “To Julie, from her sweet husband.” After reading the book, I have to wonder if that wasn’t some sly joke.

To say anymore would be to ruin the book’s surprises. Just read it already.

Read This: Zone One, by Colson Whitehead

So someone went and wrote a literary novel about the zombie apocalypse. Kind of the Ulysses of flesh-eating fiction.

The plot is sparse. Such as it is, the narrative follows a young man called Mark Spitz and the two other members of his survivalist unit as they comb through lower Manhattan killing straggler zombies in an effort to reclaim the city, or at least safeguard Zone One. But we see much of the world through flashbacks which take us from First Night to the present day. The longer we stay with Spitz and his company, the more we learn about their past.

I guess the chief complaint from bloggers about this book is how it constantly jumps from this present to flashback, sometimes mid-paragraph–and it can be jarring at times. My wife is a serious fan of post-apocalyptic novels and she gave up after twenty pages. Partly because of the non-linear structure, but also because this story is DENSE. Colson is a word fetishist and does not make it easy for the reader. The dude would be no fun to play Scrabble with.

I LOVED the book, though. LOVED it. It’s dreamy. It’s stream-of-consciousness almost. A fever dream of a vision of our nightmares. Mark and his friends are fully formed and we learn a lot about the human condition (and the message, here, is strangely hopeful) in the little scenes when death approaches in the form of the endless undead army.

Take your time with this one. It’s worth it.

Read This: My Friend Dahmer, by Derf

My Friend Dahmer

The artist mostly known as “Derf” was a bit of a mystery during my tenure at the Cleveland Scene and Free Times. He was the guy behind the coolest comic strip in the paper, The City, which ripped on Cleveland every week but also seemed to celebrate its crazy residents at the same time. I would occasionally see him at company parties, quietly watching from the back, this tall dude with a long face who usually seemed pissed at something.

There was this rumor he’d been friends with the serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer in high school. I’d never doubted it. But I was a little surprised when he dared to turn his artist’s eye to that part of his life. It would be tempting for any storyteller, sure, but in order to go there you have to show Dahmer as a sympathetic character. Because he was, after all, human. And a friend to some people. And would readers really want to go there?

Earlier this year, Derf finally got around to telling his story in My Friend Dahmer, a thick, gorgeous graphic novel that presents the cannibal killer as a tragic character, someone who might been saved even, if only one fucking adult had bothered to wonder why Jeffrey was acting so strangely and had cared enough to get him some help. Dahmer did not go quietly into full-on sociopathic insanity. The signs were there — animal mutilations, binge drinking at 15, a shocking lack of empathy for fellow human beings — and they were hard to miss. It’s like watching Anakin turn into Darth Vader, only slowly and with no definable event to motivate the fall.

The book covers Dahmer and Derf’s last years of high school in bucolic Bath, Ohio, one of the safest neighborhoods in the state. And by the end of the summer following their senior year, both have discovered their passion — Derf has become a fledgling artist, Dahmer a practicing psychopath and murderer. Drawn in high-def contrast, with his slightly-grotesque portrayal of the human form, this book serves as the universal countering force of Dahmer’s own dark obsession. The art’s creation only made possible as a result of the acts it chronicles and the effect it had on the artist.

In summation: way cool.

Listen to this: The Turn of the Screw, by Henry James

Drove out to Manhattan last week to speak with my editor about a new novel (more on that soon). The trip is a rough seven hours East on I-80 and there was a lot of time to burn. I made some use of it by downloading a couple audio books over at Audible, the company that did a sweet job on The Man from Primrose Lane.

I brought two books along with me. The first was Defending Jacob, which was a murder mystery that came highly recommended. It was well written and well told. But in the end, little more than grief porn and parental paranoia. Not my thing. The other story, though, was a classic: The Turn of the Screw, published in 1898. And its mood and tone fit perfectly well with the New England autumn backdrop.

The yarn begins the way so many good old stories do, with a character coming forth to explain why this story he’s about to tell you is the most depraved, most frightening thing you’ve ever heard. Lovecraft does this a lot, this circus barking to ramp up suspense. We’ve somehow lost this over the last hundred years, with most editors and writers preferring to just get us right into the story as if they’re embarrassed to sell it too much. Which is a shame, because it really does add a keen sense of suspicion.

Simple story, well done. A young woman applies to become the governess of two children who live on a country estate. The last governess died under mysterious circumstances and may be haunting the place. That’s about it. But the execution is lyrical, wonderful. James slowly turns the screw until the sense of dread about Bly manor is palpable. And he’s daring enough to leave any real explanation to the reader. Is the woman going crazy? Or are the ghosts real? Oh, and it packs a hell of a wallop in one last sentence.

If you pick up a copy, put in on the shelf between Jane Eyre and Rebecca. But I recommend going the Audible route and heading out for a long road trip. Somewhere desolate and cold.

Help us make a film about the search for Amy’s killer.


Since I was 11, I’ve been searching for the man who abducted and murdered Amy Mihaljevic. I’ve written a book about it. And I maintain a blog where I keep updated info on clues and suspects.

But there are some things I would like to say about this mystery which really only work in a visual medium. I’ve thought for awhile about making a feature film and with the renewed interest in her case, now seems like the best time to get started.

Two days ago, I launched a fundraising effort through Indiegogo, where you can help produce this project for as little as $10.

Check it out.

Hot off the presses!

It Came from Ohio has arrived, just in time for Halloween! Learn all about Ohio’s creepiest legends: The Loveland Frog monster; the Melon Heads of Kirtland; the flying saucer that attacked a helicopter over Mansfield; an elite secret society run by Bob Serpentini; and more… Copies are being distributed to area bookstores. Be sure to visit the independents.

If you like ebooks, you can pick it up for $3.99 for your Nook or Kindle. You can also order the paperback through Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

And if you like free stuff, you can enter to win a copy through Goodreads!

Meet the new book: It Came from Ohio!

So remember that part in The Man from Primrose Lane where the cop encounters a half-man/half-frog with a spark wand on the back roads of Loveland, Ohio? Believe it or not that’s based on a real incident that occurred near Cinci decades ago. The true story of the Loveland Frog appears in my new book, It Came from Ohio! which you can now pre-order by clicking the picture (that’s the Frog on the cover).

It Came from Ohio! is a collection of 13 short investigations I conducted into famous Ohio legends. There’s the story of the Portage County deputies who chased a flying saucer into Pennsylvania, an expose of an elite secret society that owns a private island on Lake Erie which they staff with underage European girls, and other oddities like jealous ghosts and canibalistic mutant children.

The book will be released in October as a paperback and an ebook for all formats. Just in time for Halloween!

Read the Introduction at Barnes & Noble!

Sneak Peek: Darker Black

I have a new script that is making the rounds out West, about a serial killer who tries to filibuster his execution. Check out the first scene by clicking the pic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Skip This: The Clan of the Cave Bear, By Jean M. Auel

I don’t give up on a book easily. I can count on one hand the times this has happened. But this book and I have come to a parting of the ways. And this is sad, because I really wanted to like this book.

I’ve always been curious about The Clan of the Cave Bear. I love the idea of setting a sweeping epic story during the time of cavemen. And the covers for this series by Jean M. Auel are absolutely beautiful and practically call to readers, promising adventure within. On a recent trip to Manhattan, I found an old paperback copy at The Strand which was autographed and figured it was finally time to dig in.

The writing is fine. Utilitarian in places, but the pacing and flow and economy of words is polished. The story, itself, begins well enough– a Homosapien girl loses her tribe and is adopted by a clan of Cro-Magnons on the great steppes of the Mammoth fields. But as interesting a world as Auel creates, I practically had to force myself to read on. Three hundred pages in, it began to feel like work. Why? This story has no ticking clock. Her protagonist, Ayla, is not given a goal or mission, other than to try to fit in–or not–as a member of the Clan. As a reader, we don’t really know why we’re reading, other than to understand Auel’s theories on Ancient society. There is simply nothing driving the narration.

To me, this book read as an experiment by a great historian to write a novel in order to get other people as excited in the things she studied as she was. And, given the success of the book in the 80’s, it worked. But it didn’t work for me. Unfortunately.

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