Favorite Reads, Spring 2026

 I’m a little late with my Q2 list. That doesn’t mean I had trouble finding books to recommend. On the contrary, it was a good quarter.

 The Big Empty, Robert Crais. I’ve been a fan of Crais’s work for over twenty years. His consistency is such I’m hard pressed to say which of his Elvis Cole books is my favorite. Until now. The Big Empty is the work of a master of the craft at the peak of his powers. Not only is this a compelling story with characters as well drawn as any in the literature, Crais handles with aplomb things that cause even the best of writers to stumble, such shifting points of view and timelines. Even if you’re not typically a fan of PI fiction, do yourself a favor and read this one.

 Mirage City, Lev AC Rosen. A new voice to be reckoned with in the PI genre. Rosen sets his novel in the gay community of Los Angeles in the 1950s, when homosexuality was still a crime. The story is complex and well told, and Rosen never stoops to preaching. The issues of the time – more than a few of which still linger, though not officially – are described matter of factly to allow the reader to draw his or her own conclusions. Outstanding book. I’ll look for his earlier novel.

 Gray Dawn, Walter Mosley. There aren’t any compliments for Mosley’s Easy Rawlins novels that haven’t already been said, so I’ll leave it at this: Gray Dawn has everything one would expect from a Rawlins novel without seeming repetitious in any way. Easy’s family life evolves, but he still reaches back to former acquaintances for help when needed. His name may be misleading – things are never easy for Mr. Rawlins – but reading Mosley’s books is never a chore. The writing flows like water over a cliff. No oner does a better job of putting readers firmly in a place they’ve never been.

 Hatchet Girls, Joe Lansdale. Hap and Leonard ride again. I don’t know if there’s anything exceptional about this book when compared to the rest of the Hap and Leonard oeuvre – except maybe the premise – but the voice is so comforting and familiar to readers of the series that you feel like you’ve settled in with an old friend you haven’t seen for a while by the time you finish the first page.

 Crooks, Lou Berney. This book is currently on all kinds of award lists, and deservedly so. The story of a family of, well, crooks, who are proud of their heritage and happy to work together to enhance it. Berney’s writing is easy on the eyes and the story – stories, actually – each could stand alone as novellas. In Berney’s deft hands a framing story ties everything together as the children make their own ways after Mom and Dad had set their courses. Crooks proves a book can be great fun and still thought-provoking.

 At Their Own Game, Frank Zafiro. Why isn’t this guy better known? He’s worked on multiple crime series himself and collaborated on two others (that I know of) and I’m hard pressed to say one is better than the other. Usually a police procedural writer, At Their Own Game takes the POV of a cop turned criminal to examine both sides. The story is complex, with several twists I didn’t see coming until I found myself mumbling, “Of course,” though I never felt adrift. If you’re not familiar with Zafiro’s work, you’d be wise to take a look. Everything he writes is good.

 The Killing of the Tinkers, Ken Bruen. I picked this up at a used bookstore shortly after I heard of Bruen’s death. Two chapters in I realized I’d read it before but never thought of stopping. Jack Taylor is Jack Taylor, and sometimes Bruen makes him suffer more than he should, but Bruen’s ability to tell a tragic story with a little whimsy, and his unsurpassed control of the language, make everything he wrote a treat. His passing is a great loss.

Who You Calling 'Woke,' Motherfucker?

 On October 31, 2024 I posted a blog titled, “Chandler's Misogyny and The Little Sister.” On June 27, 2026, the heroically named Anonymous posted the following comment (I guess he’s a slow reader, as he is clearly not a deep thinker):                                    

 "Full disclosure: I am not what anyone would consider woke." Yeah, I could tell you were totally not woke when you wrote and published a long essay about Raymond Chandler's enduring and beloved detective mysteries and how appalled you are by their misogyny. Nothing screams "Not woke" to me than a long digressive essay judging an author from the 1940s through a contemporary feminist lens. Maybe you could further establish your "not woke" bona fides by examining Hammett's shocking inability to platform black voices in his work.

 My reply:

 Your courage is admirable. Anyone with an opinion I'd be inclined to consider would have left his name. And, yeah, I can tell you’re a guy, which only embarrasses me; you're beyond such self-examination.

 Thanks for giving me the idea for another blog post, dickhead.

This is the promised blog post.

 People who know me well will attest to the fact that, while I try to treat all people the way I’d like to be treated, I am not by any means ‘woke.’ The Beloved Spouse™ has an abstract object she calls ‘The Box,’ into which she insists I place some of my comments in the hope no one but her will ever hear them. As was Chandler, I am a product of my age, so many things The Sole Heir™ would never dream of saying strike me as innocuous.

 And sometimes I say shit just for effect. Sue me.

 I’m making a few points here:

1. There is a goodly distance between being woke and being an asshole. Context matters. Standing up for women/racial minority/LGBTQIA+/etc. rights is not woke; it’s doing the right thing. I’m proud to stand up for them, which doesn’t mean I accept their agendas without modification. I’ve had many disagreements with members of all these communities over the years. Sometimes it’s because I’m behind the times; I am, after all, seventy years old. Sometimes I’m an insensitive prick. There are occasions when I genuinely disagree with something they want, or how they want to accomplish it. There are also times my agreement is insufficient (to them), or not in the manner they want me to express it. To someone who is truly woke, that disqualifies me.
2. The fact that Chandler is a product of his times doesn’t mean he’s not a misogynist. He lived in misogynistic times. The laws, as well as social mores, were discriminatory toward women. (And just about everyone else who wasn’t a straight, white male.)
3. Papering over past inequities does not make this a better world. While The Little Sister exposes the misogyny of the times, I would never advocate for changing a word. No one is more strongly opposed to sanitizing the works of Mark Twain by removing the word nigger from his writing. We need literature that accurately describes the vernacular of its time so we can see what progress has been made. Or not.

I feel safe in assuming Anonymous is a white male, almost certainly straight (at best a self-loathing homosexual), as my peers, alas, are the only demographic that says things like this. So, and I’m speaking directly to Anonymous, you ofay, cracker, GED-aspiring-to, latent pedophile: You don’t have to ask if someone is woke any more than you have to ask if a person is vegan; you couldn’t stop them from telling you if you tried.

 Feel free to comment, especially to clarify what the fuck you mean by Hammett's shocking inability to platform black voices. Put your name on it, though. If you’re afraid to use your real name, “Pussy” will do. (With apologies to what may be my favorite part of the female anatomy.)