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What pisses me off
is when I find an author I love and let him slip through the cracks. Like Joe
Wambaugh.
I read The New Centurions and The Blue Knight when they first came out
in paperback in the 70s. I soon moved into a non-fiction phase in my reading
and read little or no fiction for years. After I got into crime I came across Fire Lover, non-fiction about an
arsonist, and loved it. I’ve dabbled in his Hollywood Station series. A couple
of years ago I got serious and read The
Onion Field, which may be the finest piece of non-fiction I’ve ever read.
Last week I finally got to The Choirboys.
I’ve learned my
lesson. I’ll never let my Wambaugh reading lapse again.
The Choirboys is Catch-22
for cops. Most of it is much the way my daughter described the movie Ted: hilarious and wildly inappropriate.
No one has Wambaugh’s combination of chops and experience and he uses every bit
of his talent. He knows how to drop a downer into a sequence of funny scenes,
and how to hold a reveal so you don’t realize until later a cop almost died while
you were laughing. He teases you throughout the book about “the shooting” but
never says any more than that about it until he’s 90% finished. By then you’ve
come to accept these cops as heroes, assholes, and fifteen other personality
traits, many in the same person. There are no better developed characters in
literature, regardless of genre, including literary. The ending is a hammer
blow that approaches like a slow-motion train wreck, and is devastating.
That’s all I’m
going to say. To give away a scene or say any more about the ending would ruin
it for you. Suffice to say, I’m updating my To Be Read list to make sure he
gets a regular spot until I’ve read every word he’s published. Then I’ll read
as many as I can again.
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