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American Vandal: Criminally Good

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September 29, 2018
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Here at Grammatical Art, we love true crime stories in their many forms: TV miniseries, books, podcasts, and Emmy-nominated, Peabody-award-winning documentary parodies.

The first season of American Vandal followed aspiring filmmaker and amateur documentarian Peter Maldonado and his best friend Sam Ecklund as they attempted to exonerate fellow classmate Dylan Maxwell—falsely accused of spray painting 27 dicks on cars in the faculty parking lot—and uncover the identity of the real dick drawer. Season 2 premiered earlier this month, and in a move exemplary of the kind of simple yet genius comedy that makes American Vandal so hilarious, its central mystery revolves around nothing more and nothing less than no. 2.

Fresh off the viral-video fame of their first investigation and now backed by a Netflix production team (yes, they incorporated the show’s Netflix sensation into the premise), Sam and Peter are called in to unmask the anonymous vandal known as the Turd Burglar, responsible for terrorizing a Catholic high school in Bellevue, Washington with not one, but three poop-related crimes, including spiking the cafeteria lemonade with laxatives, leading to a massive, school-wide pooping incident dubbed “the brownout.”

To reveal much more of this season’s plot would be to ruin the delight of watching the mystery unfold because what makes American Vandal so excellent is that—despite (or maybe even because of) its bathroom humor and parody premise—it actually holds up as a compelling entry in the very genre it’s making fun of. Each of the seven episodes leading up to the final eighth episode ends on a cliffhanger that gives you no choice but to press play on the next one. And if season 1 was a scathing indictment of the way the public education system cuts corners and prejudges students, labeling them as worthy or unworthy just so they can promptly give up on them, then season 2 is a hard look at cover-ups, conspiracies, the preferential treatment of athletes as money makers, and the cost of coming of age in the age of social media.

Investigating the poop crimes at a different school where Peter and Sam are outsiders to the social structures of the faculty and student body lends the season more red herrings, more false assumptions, and more plot twists than the show’s first outing. Season 2 could use more of the filmmakers themselves—arguably the strongest and funniest parts of both seasons are the behind-the-scenes moments of Peter and Sam tracking down leads, discussing strategy, and piecing together clues and motives on their crime boards—but when we do see them, the duo shines and the show is as ridiculous and clever as ever.

Is season 2 as funny as season 1? Close, but not quite. At the end of the day, dick drawing just may be inherently funnier than poop pranks, which is not to say season 2 is some kind of sophomore slump. It’s still laugh-out-loud funny, and just like with season 1, when all was revealed and the Turd Burglar was finally unmasked, I was left wanting more. Not because the solve wasn’t satisfying, but because it was just that damn good.

Seasons 1 and 2 of American Vandal are now streaming on Netflix.

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Book Review: Born to Lose

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September 14, 2018
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Stanley B. Hoss doesn’t have the same name recognition as, say, Ted Bundy, and unlike The Stranger Beside Me, you’ve probably never heard of Born to Lose: Stanley B. Hoss and the Crime Spree That Gripped a Nation. But if you’re a fan of true crime, historical nonfiction, edge-of-your-seat thrillers, or all of the above, then it should be next on your to-read list.

Hoss, a burglar and thief from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, graduated to the national stage when he landed himself on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list in the fall of 1969. His crimes—including rape, murder, kidnapping, and breaking out of prison—eventually earned him a life sentence. Four years into that sentence, with the help of two other inmates, Hoss murdered a correctional officer at Western Penitentiary and as a result, was sent to an isolation facility in Philadelphia, where he hanged himself another five years later, in 1978.

Despite the nationwide manhunt, Hoss’s story is very much a small-town one, as much a product of the local social and political climates as his own violent crimes. What makes Born to Lose so fascinating is the way in which completely external factors and seemingly inconsequential details determined the progress of Hoss’s crimes and the outcomes of his arrests, trials, and detainment. The author, James G. Hollock, a Pittsburgher himself, streamlines Hoss’s chaotic, near-senseless actions into a specific—albeit dizzying—timeline, pieced together from previously sealed state and federal documents, police transcripts, court proceedings, and first-hand accounts. Judges, police officers, prison guards, inmates, Hoss’s wife, his mistress—all on-record for the first time, drawing an intimate, chilling portrait of the evil behind the man.

Worried I’ve given too much away? You shouldn’t be. Born to Lose is filled with the kind of insane circumstances and unbelievable coincidences (Edgar Snyder, the Edgar Snyder was Hoss’s public defender) that make reality so much stranger than fiction.

Check it out now.

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Hi! My Name is Natalie, and I am a True Crime Junkie.

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July 23, 2018
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If you follow me on Goodreads or social media, you already know that I’m a lover of everything related to true crime. I love mysteries, and I love a good murder story. If you’re not into murder, you probably think I’m a weirdo; if you’re into murder, you’re nodding your head in agreement because you are a fellow Murderino who understands what I’m saying.

Murder is awful. I do not wish it upon anyone. However, sadly it happens every day, and I want to know how and why it happened. I’m not sure what exactly draws me into these stories, but I think it started at a young age.

When I was younger, I absolutely devoured all of the Nancy Drew books I could find. I actually read all 56 of them! I enjoyed Nancy’s adventures and the tight little bow that wrapped up each investigation into that particular book’s mystery. Once I outgrew the formulaic structure and sophomoric storylines of those books, I graduated to R.L. Stine.

I’m sure I read all of the Goosebumps books, but at the ripe old age of 9, those were much too immature for me. I was drawn to Fear Street. My library had a wonderful wall of Fear Street books, and it called to me.

I spent that entire summer reading every single Fear Street book in the collection. Then I graduated to the Super Chillers and Cheerleader series. I could not get enough of them! Sure, these were fictitious books, but I think this is where my fascination with mysteries and true crime began. I loved losing myself in the story while trying to figure out who the culprit was and what makes him/her tick. I could not get enough of them.

Now that I’m an adult with my own mini-library, the majority of my collection is now of the mystery or true crime genres. I still enjoy losing myself in the puzzle of the story, following the twists and turns the author throws at you. Discovering its pieces throughout the book absolutely feeds my inquisitive, problem solving nature; that’s probably why I love these types of stories so much.

While reading about murder is still my favorite pastime, I’ve also added podcasts to the mix. If you are also into true crime or murder like I am and haven’t checked out My Favorite Murder yet, you should. Georgia Hardstark and Karen Gilgariff do a great job of sharing new murders with you in an entertaining (yet not disrespectful) way. They are true crime junkies, just like us, and they’re not afraid of wearing it on their sleeves.

P.S. You can read Jess’s review of Up and Vanished. Her blog got me hooked on it immediately.