After about 20 years, I recently reread Ray Garton's infamous paperback original from the heyday of splatterpunk, Live Girls (Pocket Books, Jan 1987). And man, is it one delightfully sleazy read that holds up. You got Times Square in all its squalid neon-soaked glory, vampire ladies who haunt strip-club glory holes, even some ravenous creepy-crawlies squirming in the basement of said strip
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