Best Reads, 2014

I began 84 books in 2014. (Began to read, not to write. Calm down.) Of those I finished 77. Fifty warranted at least a small write-up at month’s end; some received reviews of their own. I’m not a fan of an arbitrary cut-off for how many books were “best” in a given period of time, so here are the seventeen Top Ten books I read in 2014, in the order in which I read them:

The Point, Gerard Brennan. His essay in Down These Green Streets attracted my attention; Welcome to the Octagon held it. The Point put him into the rotation. Brennan reminds me of Ray Banks in that he wastes no words and none of your time. The books are as long as they need to be, and no longer. No shorter, either.

The Bitch, Les Edgerton. As good a noir story as I’ve read in at least ten years, as well as a scathing denunciation of “three strikes and you’re out” statutes, a/k/a Habitual Offenders, a/k/a The Bitch.

Runaway Town, Jay Stringer. An eye-opener. Catching up with Stringer is part of my To Be Read list.

The Black Dahlia, James Ellroy. I’ve heard this is the weakest of the LA Quartet, in which case I’m already hard for The Big Nowhere.

Herbie’s Game, Tim Hallinan. The newest Junior Bender. Another Shamus nomination should be on the way.

In The Morning I’ll be Gone, Adrian McKinty. The third volume of the Troubles Trilogy. Thank God McKinty has decided to make it the Troubles More Than Trilogy, with Book Four due out in 2015.

Inferno: The World at War 1939 – 1945. If you’re looking for one book to sum up World War II, this is the one. Be forewarned: it’s not pretty, though compelling and beautifully written.

Miami Blues, Charles Willeford. Yes, I was late to the party again, and, yes, I plan to catch up.

The Spy Who Came In From the Cold, John leCarre. The book that started one of the great careers of our time. I hope younger readers can get past the archaic Cold War setting to read what the book is really about.

Rogue Island, Bruce DeSilva. Another revelation, added to the “must catch up” list.

Winter’s Bone, Daniel Woodrell. Everything I’d hoped it would be, and I’d hoped for a lot.

Difficult Men, Brett Martin. Must read for fans of what Martin calls the Third Golden Age of Television: The Sopranos, The Wire, The Shield, Deadwood, Mad Men, and Breaking Bad.

Crime Always Pays, Declan Burke. Hiaasen-esque sequel to The Big O. One of the two funniest books I read this year.

The Getaway Car, Donald Westlake. Collected bits of non-fiction that will make you a fan if you aren’t already, and, if you aren’t, why the hell not?

The Drop, Dennis Lehane. Missed an event at NoirCon to finish it. If I had to pick one book as best for me this year, this might be it.

Black Rock, John McFetridge. A worthy addition to the growing list of recent historical crime tales, this one in 1970s Montreal.

The Lincoln Lawyer, Michael Connelly. The set-up didn’t appeal to me. Public opinion and the discount bin at B&N wore me down. Thank you.

For the Dead, Tim Hallinan. The sixth Poke Rafferty shows Hallinan still has new things to say, and is in no danger of slowing down.

The Lost and the Blind, Declan Burke. Yet another departure in content for Burke, and yet another success.

The Good Cop, Brad Parks. I wasn’t sure about Parks, either, having been disappointed in too many “funny” crime books. No disappointments here.

Best re-reads last year:

Pronto, Elmore Leonard. The first appearance of Raylan Givens, and great fun.

Farewell, My Lovely, Raymond Chandler. Currently my favorite Chandler, at least until I read either The Big Sleep or The Long Goodbye again.

The Color of Blood, Declan Hughes. Ed Loy #2. No offense to Hughes’s other work, but I sure hope he hasn’t given up on Ed.

Every Bitter Thing, Leighton Gage. The 87^th Precinct in Brazil. For those who know how I feel about Ed McBain, that’s high praise. Gage’s death was a great loss, both as a writer and a generous and gentle person.

Cottonwood, Scott Phillips. No one can spread himself around to different story types and pull it off better than Phillips. As with the Chandler comment, this is my favorite Phillips, at least until I read The Ice Harvest, The walkaway, or Rut again.

The Friends of Eddie Coyle, George V. Higgins. Yes, I read it again. And damned glad of it.

All the President’s Men, Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. Should be a whole course on this in every journalism school.

Crashed

I’ve been a devotee of Timothy Hallinan’s work since I was asked to review A Nail Through the Heart, the first of his Poke Rafferty series. The Rafferty books started strong and got better, capped (so far) by last year’s The Queen of Patpong. Knowing how much effort Hallinan puts into the Rafferty books, and the emotional fatigue that must have been induced in writing Queen, it was no surprise when he opted for something lighter for his next project.

Junior Bender is a burglar. Not some cheap smash-and-grab asshole, Junior works mainly on commission, stealing specific things on demand for pre-set prices. When stealing a Paul Klee painting from the home of a notorious gangster goes south on him, Junior finds himself engaged with two organized crime operations, a crooked cop, and the pornography industry.

The Rafferty books always had laughs in them, no matter how serious the content. Hallinan has a good ear and light touch with his humor, and an appreciation of how characters have the capacity for it—even if unintentional—during the toughest moments. Crashed is intended to be more of a humorous read, as the story breezes along with more odd circumstances and quirky characters than can be found in any of the Rafferty books.

That’s doesn’t mean it’s fluff. The core subject matter is life and death, and Junior has a harder interior than may first appear. Thistle Downing is a cautionary character, and the issues surrounding Junior, his ex-wife, and their daughter are real enough to fit far more standard occupations than professional thief. The ending isn’t sure until it’s over.  Still, the subtext is lighter, the smiles more frequent, and the cast more inclined to banter than in the Rafferty books.

What hasn’t changed is the quality of the writing. Hallinan  writes scenes as memorable as anyone working today, and his descriptions are Chandler-esque at times, without sounded dated or derivative.

It’s easy to see why Hallinan would need a departure from Poke Rafferty’s increasingly dark adventures. Crashed is just what could be hoped for, something different that still has the basic elements that make Hallinan  worth reading in the first place.

(By the way, if you haven’t read The Queen of Patpong, you really ought to get busy.)

Recommendations for May and June

Late May and early June were hectic, with family visits and my daughter’s high school graduation, so my best reads from May didn’t get posted. (Yes, I know, you were all bitterly disappointed.) Below are my recommendations from the books I read in May and June.

High Season, by Jon Loomis. Loomis walks the fine line between humor and murder with the sureness of Karl Wallenda crossing Tallulah Gorge. Choosing Provincetown, Massachusetts as his setting was inspired; there might not be a truly zanier place to live in the United States. The characters are fun, the plot is complex but not confounding. The humor never dilutes the seriousness of the violence, and the violence doesn’t take the fun away from the humor. A very entertaining read.

Soul Patch, by Reed Farrell Coleman. This book had been on my “I should read this” list since last year’s Bouchercon, but something always seemed to come up. My bad. Moe Prager is close to the perfect hero for Farrell’s dreary but not dismal world. He has the issues a lot of people have, and is smart enough to recognize his limitations. I’m not sure what I expected from Soul Patch, but I enjoyed it even more than I thought I would, and won’t wait so long before giving Coleman another read.

Breathing Water, by Timothy Hallinan. I’d say his third Poke Rafferty book hits the jackpot, but he just keeps getting better, so I have no reason to believe the next installment won’t be even better; I just don’t know how he’d do it. The early leader in the clubhouse for the best book I’ve read this year. (I read an ARC. The release date is, I think, in September.)