Tabloid Tinseltown
              The city of Los Angeles, the Mother Church of noir film and fiction, 
                has rarely been more gloriously crummy than in Robert M. Eversz's 
                Killing Paparazzi (St. Martin's Minotaur, $23.95). This sequel 
                to Shooting Elvis (1996) is as scabrously funny as Eversz's first 
                novel featuring Nina Zero, née Mary Alice Baker, a young 
                woman whose impatience with moral corruption is only a little 
                less powerful than her hapless attraction to its many L.A. practitioners. 
                Zero's is a wonderful fictional voice -- supple-minded, sexy, 
                by turns tender and vulnerable and, when necessary, adroit at 
                using punk attitude as a shield or a club.
              A onetime Angelino, Eversz has lived in Prague for most of the 
                last nine years, but his feel for L.A.'s essential creepiness 
                has never been more acute. During daylight hours, the city's sidewalks 
                -- this is Zero's first-person narrative -- "look merely 
                empty. At night, they look neutron bombed. Humanity diminishes 
                to dash-lit faces framed by automobile glass, and the ragged figures 
                of the homeless racking up shopping-cart miles... This was the 
                city I liked best, an absence of cars, of brightly lit store interiors 
                peopled by mannequins, a city where the few survivors gathered 
                at gas stations like frightened animals to drink their fill and 
                vanish back into the night."
              No, most of the people who gas up at 3 a.m. in L.A. aren't really 
                "frightened animals" -- they probably just work late 
                or early -- but the noir style is, above all, about point of view, 
                and Zero's is warped. She escaped an abusive poor family only 
                to place her trust in the wrong men, including a boyfriend whose 
                scams resulted in a five-year prison term for Zero after she shot 
                several bad people and inadvertently blew up a section of LAX.
              "I'd always been a good liar, even when I thought I was 
                telling the truth," Zero says, so she should have been wary 
                when Gabriel Burns described himself as "a complete rotter. 
                Haven't told the straight truth about anything for twenty-two 
                years and counting." On parole, Zero agrees to a green-card 
                marriage to Burns, an English photographer with visa problems, 
                in return for the $2,000 she hopes to use to launch her own career 
                in photography. During their Las Vegas "honeymoon," 
                Zero falls for Burns, in her own confused way, and then is devastated 
                when he turns up beaten and stabbed to death.
              The background to Burns's and other murders in Killing Paparazzi 
                is "Chinatown"-style corrupt politics and real-estate 
                maneuvering, but the foreground is nearly as blood-curdling: the 
                supermarket-tabloid celebrity-photo business. Burns is one of 
                its aces, and he brags that "most people just call me 'princess 
                killer.' " Zero's pal and mentor, Frank Adams, has fled a 
                left-wing weekly and moved to the tabs, "which he thought 
                contained the most radical writing in America. The alternative 
                newspapers had sold out to a radical chic consumerism as bourgeois 
                as mainstream culture but the tabloid press he thought a great 
                medium for ridiculing the American obsessions with wealth and 
                fame".
              These would-be Swifts and Menckens, if you buy that line, can 
                land in hot water when, like Burns, they cultivate "a talent 
                for the unflattering shot" -- or if a shot is worse than 
                unflattering and could end the career of a star pulling down $20 
                million a picture, and extortion and blackmail enter into the 
                mix. As Zero goes after Burns's killer -- naturally she's mistrusted 
                and unloved by the L.A. cops -- she admits to herself that she 
                isn't "a professional investigator or even a talented amateur. 
                My greatest asset was desperation," she says. That desperation, 
                along with Eversz's considerable talent, infuses this terrific 
                thriller with tension and feeling, and will leave readers wanting 
                more of Nina Zero.
              
              Reviewed by Richard Lipez
                Sunday, December 16, 2001; Page 
                BW13