As you’ll soon see, the spring that just ended was a good season for reading, at least for me. Two vacations, one of them extended, gave me more time than usual for reading. I did not waste it.
The
Monkey’s Raincoat. Robert Crais. A lot of writers tone down the things
that made them popular once they become bestsellers; I guess it’s the way of
the world. Once you’re on top, the publisher wants to keep you there, which
inevitably leads to writing books they hope will attract a wider audience than
the core group that launched you; the core will stay, whatever you do. This is
not to imply Crais has watered down his writing in recent years, but I decided
to go back and read the early Elvis Cole books in order, so I got myself a copy
of The Monkey’s Raincoat and had at it. It was a pleasure to be reminded
of what attracted me to his writing in the first place; this is as good a first
PI novel as has been written since The Big Sleep. No question I’ll stick
with the plan and work through these in order now.
All Them Wrong Things, James D.F. Hannah. I began to
include as yet unreleased ARCs in these reviews about a year ago, but this is
the first time I’ve included a book that is not yet under contract. Hannah is
hot right now, with awards and nominations and inclusions in annual
anthologies. Best known for his Henry Malone PI stories, All Them Wrong
Things is a departure for Hannah,
the story of a decent man caught up in small town corruption and a brother who
is an asshole for the ages. All the action and great dialog you’d expect from a
Malone book is here, with a story sensibility more in the direction of Elmore
Leonard or S.A. Cosby. Let’s hope this one finds a home quickly.
Joey Piss Pot, Charlie Stella. (I read an ARC; the
book drops in July.) No one since George V. Higgins has captured the sense and
attitudes of organized crime better than Stella, and even though it’s been a
while since he wrote in this genre, Joey Piss Pot shows the author
hasn’t lost an inch off his fastball. The book abounds with intersecting plot
lines, characters who aren’t as smart as they think they are – or need to be –
and dialog that reads like you’re at the next table in the bar eavesdropping.
Stella’s fans will be delighted, and Joey Piss Pot should also bring him
some new ones.
The
Outfit, Richard Stark. The fourth Stark/Parker book I’ve read and, for
my money, the best of the four. Stark spends more time in other people’s heads
than usual here, and the effect is engrossing, as he takes events tangential to
the main plot and spends entire chapters on them without making you wonder when
he’s going to get back to what the book is ostensibly about; that’s a gift.
Stark is on my list of writers I’ll make a point to read at least once a year
and I see no reason why he shouldn’t stay there.
The
Hot Kid, Elmore Leonard. This is
a book that holds special significance for me. It came out in 2005, when I was
not only not published, I wasn’t even what could be called a member of the
writing community, more like a reader with delusions of writing adequacy. I won
a contest with HarperCollins for an ARC of The Hot Kid so long as I
wrote a review they could use. I used what I wrote for them as my audition to
be a reviewer for the New Mystery Reader website. NMR editor Stephanie Padilla
liked it, started assigning books to me, and gave me my first look inside. This
exposed me to a lot of books and authors I would not otherwise have discovered,
and interviews with several of them – notably Ken Bruen, Declan Hughes, and the
aforementioned Charlie Stella – brought me inside the community; the interview
with Stella led almost directly to my first contract. It’s been almost twenty
years since I read Carlos Webster’s exploits, so I decided to see how well the
book held up. The answer is, very. It rambles a little, but the action and
dialog are all top-notch Leonard and the book is as much fun to read as
anything he wrote, right up there with Get Shorty.
Killer’s
Choice, Ed McBain. There isn’t much to recommend this 87th
Precinct novel over any of the others. There’s also nothing that makes it not
at least as good as most. In short, it’s a solid McBain Eight-Seven story,
which means it’s outstanding.
Resurrection
Walk, Michael Connelly. I was off Connelly for several years, mostly
because his writing doesn’t have the kind of voice and style I like as much as
do some others. I picked this up on an impulse because it had both Mickey
Haller and harry Bosch, and now I’m back on board. For whatever reason, I picked
up on Connelly’s journalistic voice better here than before. Couple that with an
exceptional and well-crafted story and he’s now on my list of authors to read
at least once a year. I’ll not say more about Resurrection Walk lest I
spoil something. Just go and read it.
The
Last Few Miles of Road, Eric Beetner. Beetner is an underappreciated
gem. Not by other writers, where his reputation was solidified years ago; the
general public should be more aware of him, and would be if the big houses weren’t
so timid. There are more plot twists here than in any few miles of road. They’re
all surprises, and all are prepared so your typical reaction will be “Is should
have seen this coming,” even though you didn’t. Much as I like to read for
style, Beetner gift for keeping out of the way of the story and characters is
so well developed, and works so well, it’s something young writers – and
writing teachers – would do well to at least be aware of.