What I really wanted to do within the arc of these three books was to invite the reader to question why certain characteristics and actions are considered gendered in the first place….
It’s been 14 years since we’ve had a new installment of Christa Faust’s award-winning Angel Dare novel series. You remember Angel, right? The former adult film star turned lone wolf vigilante out to break up international sex trafficking rings and get revenge on unsavory persons who do harm to her and those about whom she cares? Money Shot (2008) introduced us to Angel’s adrenaline rush-filled, luridly violent personal universe, Choke Hold (2011) pulled us through further adventures involving Angel and others who exist out on the fringes, and now The Get–Off (Hard Case Crime) sees her in lights that will feel familiar yet different to readers of the first two books.
Faust is a versatile writer who has also authored graphic novels, TV and movie novelizations, standalone noir titles, and short fiction. She has a knack for bending genres and challenging stereotypes. Angel is a former porn star whose overt sexuality is an undeniable aspect of her being. But she has intimacy issues, gets the willies if an amorous partner appears to be seeking an emotional bond with her. She gives guys (and other women) who cross her wily path once-overs, often focusing on the dick size in the men. The above traits and behavioral ways are characteristics we usually see in male characters in novels, particularly within the realm of crime fiction. Faust turns those expected literary mechanisms on their head, and Angel Dare is the ideal protagonist vehicle to drive that turnaround.
All three Angel Dare novels jump immediately into bracing action from the first paragraph. As Angel knowingly sizes up the people who enter her ever-dangerous existential periphery, she sorts out which of them need to be killed, who should be saved, who she needs to use to meet her goals, with whom she’d just like a no-commitment sexual foray, which people deserve her friendly devotion, etc. Things happen quickly in these novels and they happen with a lot of violence. Angel is an anti-hero whom many may see as a champion because of how she bravely delivers justice that law enforcement agencies can’t be counted on to provide. But she’s a conflicted individual who’s no comfortably likable character, and these novels are not for the easily offended.
I don’t want to delve into a plot description of The Get–Off here. Angel Dare enthusiasts will prefer to let themselves be surprised by what and who she comes up against in this new set of heady, perilous exploits. Suffice to say it’s a road story that finds Angel involved with rodeo performers and generally countrified people, these cow folk a softer deviation from the Croatian sex traffickers, L.A. porn stars, and the like in the first two novels. Angel is more vulnerable this time around, for reasons beyond her control. Overall, the book is less edgy than Money Shot or Choke Hold, more folksy, but it goes deeper into Angel’s internal struggles.
Faust and I had the following exchange over email, shortly after I’d turned the last page of The Get–Off:
Why 14 years between Angel Dare novels and why is now the right time for this new one?
I certainly didn’t plan it that way! It’s just that other projects with tighter deadlines, along with paying the bills and life in general, got in the way. But it was there, bubbling in the background the whole time. Ending the series was a very weighty and emotionally challenging task. I found myself rethinking and reimagining several aspects of the story along the way, and in the end, this book took the amount of time that it needed.
Is Angel purely a creation from your imagination, or is she drawn from actual people, whether they be people you’ve known or otherwise? Is any part of her you?
None of my characters are pure imagination; it’s a lot more of a Frankenstein kind of process. In other words, I pick up bits and pieces of all the people I meet, mix them in with my own lived experience, stitch them together and give them a life of their own.
All my characters, heroes, villains, whatever gender or age, they all reflect various aspects of me. But when an author writes in a very intimate and conversational first person the way I often do, I think that can blur the line between author and character for many readers. Angel and I have things in common but we are also very different. She comes from a different background. She makes choices I wouldn’t make. She feels very much like her own independent person and I’ve just been following her around with a pen.
Has there been talk of movies being made featuring Angel? If any get made, who would you like to see play her?
The books and character have been optioned many times and, as is so often the case, none of those deals have come to fruition. Yet, anyway. Fingers crossed that her luck will change.
As for who I would want to play Angel, my dream casting will always be Marisa Tomei. She has the looks (I thought she was giving major Angel vibes in The Wrestler,) she’s a skilled and versatile actor and I think she’d be perfect for the part.
Like porn and MMA, rodeo was another profession that requires putting your body in danger and selling your physicality to entertain a crowd. After that I couldn’t let it go and proceeded to fall down a research rabbit hole, like I always do….
Angel, in different ways, has traits and ways about her that traditionally have been attributed to male characters in crime fiction (and media in general). Is it a conscious effort on your part to flip the gendered script in that way?
I think I did originally want to flip the script in some ways, but not just by creating a sexy babe who thinks, acts and kicks ass like a man. Angel is very feminine inside and out, far more so that I am. From a physical standpoint, she’s an ordinary middle-aged woman. She has no special ass-kicking skills. She’s not a sharp-shooter or a martial artist or a Navy SEAL. She fights back any way she can and finds ways around her physical limitations because she has no other choice.
I think what I really wanted to do within the arc of these three books was to invite the reader to question why certain characteristics and actions are considered gendered in the first place. Why is it considered tough and masculine for a character to pull the trigger of a gun, an act which requires very little physical strength, while the stamina and fortitude required to survive the grueling brutality of childbirth is just melodramatic lady stuff? What happens when a tough character’s strength runs out but they still have to keep going anyway? And why can’t a female character be strong because of her gender, not in spite of it?
What gave you the idea to cast this Angel novel with rodeo performer characters and Southwestern country folk?
I like to blame fellow author Benjamin Whitmer for that, although it’s really my own damn fault. We were talking about the movie Junior Bonner, and about how, like porn and MMA, rodeo was another profession that requires putting your body in danger and selling your physicality to entertain a crowd. After that I couldn’t let it go and proceeded to fall down a research rabbit hole, like I always do. You see, I get these crushes on certain topics, and then I’m suddenly obsessed with finding out every single thing I can about a hidden demimonde that I previously knew nothing about. I wound up spending two years traveling around with rodeo bullfighters to get a feel for their daily lives, their death-defying jobs and their (at least to me) totally unfamiliar world.
How would you compare and contrast your work on the Angel books with your work on the various graphic novels you’ve done the writing on?
The creation of characters and basic plot building is the same for both prose and comics, but the method of getting that story across is totally different. Comic script writing is super condensed, kind of like haiku. For example, I love writing dialogue but you are very limited in the amount of verbal back and forth you can have between characters in any given scene. You can’t have page after page of talking heads, you need to get on with the action. Also, comics don’t allow you to get inside the mind of a character in the intimate and fully immersive way that you can with prose. Sure you can use a few snippets of narration, but the reader is still looking at the scene from the outside.
The other important difference (for me anyway) is that comic writing is a team effort. I couldn’t draw, color or letter if my life depended on it. There are people who do it all themselves, but I’m definitely not one of them. So with comics I’m creating a story in concert with these other people with different skill sets and different perspectives and we are able to create something together that none of us would have done alone.
Novels, on the other hand, it’s just me and the page. Which is great in that I can take the story anywhere I want it to go, but it’s also harder in some ways because I don’t have that dynamic of bouncing ideas back and forth. I love both, but for totally different reasons.
On a couple different occasions, like with Snakes on a Train and Fringe, you’ve written TV/movie novelizations after the show/movie aired. How unusual is it for such books to be written after the fact? How did those gigs come about for you, and how did writing those books differ from your other writing work for you?
Funny that you mention Snakes on a Plane here, because that actually was written before the movie was released. So far before, in fact, that the version of the script I had to work off of was called Pacific Air Flight 121 and the Sam Jackson character was white!
To clarify, there are two types of licensed media-related books. Novelizations, like Snakes on a Plane or Final Destination 3, are written in advance and their releases are timed so that they will come out at the same time as the movie. They are basically just prose versions of a movie script, with the exact same plot and events that happen in the film (though often beefed up with added backstory to make the required page count.) Tie-ins like the Fringe novels, on the other hand, are further adventures (or prequels) featuring franchise characters who have already been established and developed a fan base. Those are always written after the fact because they rely on a preexisting audience who wants additional original stories about their favorite characters.
I fell into that kind of work almost by accident, because another writer was unavailable for a gig and recommended me. It’s very different from my own storytelling process because you’re playing in someone else’s world. You’re limited by what the license holders will approve and you don’t get to pick what characters you get to write about. Detailed outlines and chapter breakdowns are required in advance. Also, in the case of tie-ins, you have to pitch several different ideas for them to choose from and don’t have any say over what they pick. I enjoy the work, but make no mistake, it is professional work.
The inevitable last question: what’s next up for your writing career in the immediate and near future?
Nothing I can talk about publicly yet, but I will say that I’m deep down a new rabbit hole, investigating a world that has been genuinely shocking and surprising even to a jaded old pervert like me. I can’t wait to share it with all of you!
Brian Greene writes short stories, personal essays and critical pieces on books, music, film and visual art. His features on noir fiction and films have been published online by Criminal Element, Crime Reads, Literary Hub, The Strand, Crime Time, Crimeculture, Mulholland Books, and others, and in print by Stark House Press, PM Press and Paperback Parade. He lives in Durham, North Carolina. briangreenewriter.blogspot.com/Twitter: greenes_circles
Retreats from Oblivion: The Journal of NoirCon 