The Coven – Carter Brown

Here is a book that I picked up for the cover alone. Carter Brown’s The Coven is a tantalizing tale of Los Angeles witchcraft loosely inspired by the Manson murders. Published in America in 1971, The Coven is part of the Rick Holman detective series written by the British author Geoffrey Alan Yates using the pen name Carter Brown. Books under the name of Brown were successful enough to feature a stamp proclaiming over 25 million in print. It’s got to be good, right?

The story has an aging Sean Connery type actor named Hector Melvane that is about to be awarded a Knighthood by the Queen. The trouble is that his two children are quite the troublemakers. Pictures of his naked daughter, Amanda, holding a knife over another naked woman indicate that she’s involved in some type of ritualistic games. Her brother, Kirk, known for his violent temper and public outbursts, is also connected, but Hector wants this outlandish behavior squashed before it can ruin his image and his Knighthood. Coincidentally, Kirk and Amanda used to run with their father’s current trophy wife, Brenda, who split with Kirk after he carved his initial between her breasts with a knife.

So, enters Rick Holman, private eye. Hired by Melvane, Holman must find his elusive children and get to the bottom of the scandalous photos. A murder is uncovered and the suspects belong to Amanda and Kirk’s seemingly harmless coven. A group of tight knit friends having a good time acting out rituals involving virginal sacrifices, animal heads, and painting the body with blood. The novel reads like a 1970’s American International Pictures film complete with ample nudity and violence. A book that actually sounds much more exciting than it actually is and comparing this book to AIP is not an insult, I love AIP films!

This book is fun because its exploitative qualities and its politically incorrect nature run rampant. For example, all three of the female leads throw themselves at Rick Holman by exposing and cupping their breasts to tantalize him. Holman manages to bed two of the three with the third one not quite busty enough for his tastes. The mystery isn’t enticing enough to sustain throughout the novel and the witchcraft element seems hokey even by 1970’s standards. 

I was hoping for a more salacious mix of the supernatural and the detective genres, but aside from the sexual aspects, the book is a routine. Although, I was disappointed with the overall product, I would read another Carter Brown. Now that I know what to expect I can look forward to an entertaining quick read that celebrates its own pulpiness. Carter Brown died in the mid Nineteen Eighties with an output of over 300 novels.