“This monster of a book is a live encyclopedic analysis of the politics of filth & the filth of politics through a kaleidoscopic blast of literary reels, scholarly glosses, and existential glosses of those glosses — all of which are permeated with a criminological enthusiasm that never stops pulsating; it is also a recalcitrant, gnostic ode to what once was the disquieting sorcery of the grand LA sprawl; it is all of this and a lot more… it is Eric unbound…” ~ Guido G. Preparata, Pontifical Gregorian University

“The horror of these United States—every inch of it blood-soaked—awash in centuries of rape, murder, plunder. Black, impenetrable, and at once imperceptible, the stain is written over by myth, hagiographies of sainted white men and divine violence. In his illuminating and wholly original style, Eric Wilson takes up the work of Lee Earle ‘James’ Ellroy—the Demon-Dog himself—one of the American abattoir’s most eager and unrepentant scribes, and reads it through the eyes of Fanon, Girard, Virilio, Schmitt and Stirner. The resulting “weird noir” not only unmasks the monsters among us, but questions the way, if any, out of this horror.” ~Travis Linnemann, author of The Horror of Police

The View from Howard’s Fuck Pad: The Deep State, Bad White Men, and the Weird Noir of James Ellroy, Vol. 2: The Absurdity of Whiteness

Just like he collected airplanes, Hughes obsessively collected women, stashing them in the more than one hundred apartments, hotel rooms, and houses he owned around Hollywood.

~ Samantha Barbas, Confidential Confidential: The Inside Story of Hollywood’s Notorious Scandal Magazine

Eric Wilson’s The View from Howard’s Fuck Pad is for those who have been cold-cocked by the wonder and occluded knowledge of the clandestine wars of sights and sounds that infuses the aethereal battles of the post-enlightenment politics of pure affectivity that, in their border-crossing and shapeless anti-totalities, make up the non-place where we all un-live today — The Big Nowhere.

Hand-jobbing the chthonic-cum-spelunking texts of the Demon-Dog of post-humanist crime writing, “James” Lee Earle Ellroy, and aided and abetted by a posse of hermeneutical henchmen — Frantz Fanon, Paul Virilio, René Girard, Carl Schmitt, and Max (“The Brow”) Stirner — Wilson’s book aims for nothing less than the Big Take-Down of the Big Combo of the American colonial-settler polity known as The Frontier — the Bad White Men and the Deep State. The neo-lumpen-proletarian para-militarists of the post-capitalist world-system, the Bad White Men that James the Demon-Dog so onanistically orchestrates are revealed in their apocalyptic abjectness as the leg breakers of history, the racist, homophobic, xenophobic, antisemitic, Hispanic-hating, Black-bashing, and women-entombing toadies of the system who are the shock-troops of the clandestine substance of The-Political-Thing-That-Has-No-Name, or the State-that-is-Dual.

The phenomenal and the noumenal, the grotesque and the sublime, the seen and the unseen, the rational and the irrational, the political and the para-political, the noirish and the weird — all of Demon Dog’s classic works (The L.A. Quartet, The Underworld U.S.A. Trilogy, My Dark Places, and The Hilliker Curse: My Pursuit of Women) stand for the proposition that it is not birth but death that makes the man. “Politics is crime,” said Ellroy, and “powerful men are children.” The View from Howard’s Fuck Pad: The Deep State, Bad White Men, and the Weird Noir of James Ellroy tells you how and why as of now it is already too late for anything. Remember — you heard it here first!


Having survived (or maybe not) Volume I of this sonorous epic, the not-so faithful reader is shock-therapeutically immersed into the nitty-gritty of hyper-detailed declamations of the peripatetic points of intersection between the inner garden of psychosis of Demon-Dog’s imaginal landscape and the life-annihilating hyperreal brutalities of the proliferating criminogenic monstrosity unknowingly denoted as The Big Nowhere. Hush-Hush and Confidential, the complot, the Western, the exo- and endo-colonial frontiers, libertinism, pathologies of metaphysical desire, the Southern Land of the People of the Hawk, Milhous and J. Edgar, and even Howard “H.H.” Himself are all summarily summoned and desultorily decomposed in order to advance with maximal speed to the Big Necrophiliac Pay-Off: that Lee Earle accidentally-on-purpose offed his mother in order to spend the rest of his life making love to her corpse using his mind. To say the same thing only different: Betty is Goddess.