One Man's Opinion: KINDS OF LOVE, KINDS OF DEATH by TUCKER COE

 

There's a foreword to this one by Donald E Westlake explaining his choice of author name for this series and a little about how he wanted Mich Tobin to be an original investigator. It sounded promising. 

And the first chapter is excellent. With little to do since being kicked off the force, Tobin is building a wall. As he digs the foundations, he sees how much his work resembles a grave and digs faster to change its size. There's something about building a wall for no clear reason that is fascinating (think Paul Auster's The Music Of Chance). His efforts are interrupted by a visit from a representative of a local gangster who would like to offer Tobin a job. Tobin isn't interested. I was hooked. 

Then came chapter two. It's all back story and, as is often the case, was totally unecessary to me. The hook slipped from my mouth and I wriggled free. 

I didn't really get caught again. It's only 200 pages long and I rattled through it at a fair rate, yet it was never very satisfying. The set up is overly complicated and Tobin's justification for working for the mob isn't strong enough for me. It's also difficult to see why such a powerful criminal organisation  would turn to a washed up cop who's taken to digging walls. 

There are plenty of characters to meet during a series of interviews and Tobin's faith in his abilities to judge a person from the merest glance is almost a super power. Some of these are engaging. Few of them lead us toward the killer Tobin is searching for. 

A few exciting and unexpected incidents are thrown in to thicken the plot and help to shore things up, but it never really increases the temperature. 

It's not terrible, but lacks the quips and darkness of lots of PI novels and never really grips. Perhaps the addition of some seriously compromising situations for Tobin might have helped. More than anything, this highlights the fact that detective fiction isn't easy to write. 

So, Kinds Of Love, Kinds Of Death is the first in the series. Unless I stumble across a copy of a later addition in a charity shop or library, it'll be my last. It's biggest use to me, a reminder that it's about time I reread some early Paul Auster. The New York Trilogy would be perfectly apt. 

One Man's Opinion: CALYPSO by ED McBAIN

 

On his way home from a successful Calypso gig, George Chadderton is shot. His fine clothes offer no protection and he dies on the spot. His manager, dressed far less impressively, is more fortunate and escapes with some serious wounds. 

Shortly afterwards Clara Hawkins, a local sex worker, is also gunned down and the weapon is the same. Of course, there's a link between the murders, but it takes a while to find out what it is. 

It's pissing down with rain and the cops aren't in good spirits. They take the misery of the weather out on each other and on those whom they're interviewing. 

As Carella and Meyer dig into the investigation, they become intrigued by a night that happened seven years earlier when George's brother disappeared from the face of the earth. As they dig deeper, the ever-decreasing circles lead them to a very dark truth. 

I was travelling when I read this and got through it in a day. It was an excellent companion on the journey and kept me gripped most of the way through. What is noticeable about this one is that it's ramped up the score on the sexometer in relation to the 87th books, which often flirt with the erotic, exotic and perverse. This time, the sex is on another level, in part due to the nature of those involved in the case. Our killer is particulalrly unbalanced and George's wife offers Carella more than just a helping hand. 

There's a big shift in the book at about half way through. It comes as something of a jolt and took me a while to regain my footing. I've been trying to work out if there might have been another way (a better one) to add the change of direction, but haven't come up with anything yet (and who am I to question the master in his thinking?). 

Overall, very satisfying and has more of a standalone feel to it than the books in the series up to this point. 

 

One Man's Opinion: WILD TOWN by JIM THOMPSON

 

Bugs McKenna finds himself in the Wild Town in question, getting himself into trouble from the off. Again. He's fresh out of prison and can't seem to fathom why all of his decisions are terrible. He's clearly very handsome and has a certain alure. His mind is dull and his temper quick. 

With the help of the man who arrested him, he ends up with a job working nights as hotel security in a place owned by the richest man in town, a wheelchair-bound oil tycoon. The hotel is populated by an array of odd characters who each have a part to play a part in the tale that unfolds. 

Bugs gets himself into trouble when he's involved in the death of the house accountant who falls out of the window. Thing is, blackmail letters suggest that there was someone in the room who witnessed what happened and is now turning the screw. Bugs's guilt and obesssion overwhelms him, though Crime and Punishment this really isn't, and he's on an accelerating spiral of decline from that point on. 

Along the way he has several enounters with attractive women and manages to sleep with (and satisfy) them all. His love for the fiancee of the local law is all-encapsulating, and is all the more unrealistic for its intensity. 

The plot is engaging and there's plenty to like. I had no more idea of what was really going on than poor old Bugs, whose thought processes we get snarled up in and whose mistakes are underlined when the author jumps in with pointers to swirl up the tension. 

Something about the characters and the narration style don't quite work for me. It's populated by caracatures and out-of-place comments, feeling like a pastiche of B-movies that was put together in a rush. 

That's not to say there's nothing to like. Bugs is easy to get along with and there are some cracking set pieces and quips. 

This one's good, if a little dated and scattergun. Close, but no cigar.  

THE PEARL by JOHN STEINBECK

A little different from my previous experiences of Steinbeck, The Pearl offers a warning about human greed and a reminder of the power that the few hold over the many. In some ways, I think this universal story is something I was heading for with Fever, though it goes without saying that Steinbeck hits the message home with more power than I could ever muster.

Where it differs from the bulk of what I've read before is in its depth. There isn't the same sense of character or depth of reaction. Right from the beginning, there's a sense of parable or fable. The lesson's clear early doors and there's only one way this is heading. It's not going to be pretty. 

Kino is a pearl diver like most of the community he lives in. There's a history and a tradition in his work and he has a simple and fulfilling life. Though the economics of poverty stands against him, he grinds out the day-to-day with his wife and child as the tides come in and out. There's a pride in what he does and where he comes from and such a person is difficult to disrespect. 

Two things happen to Kino that will change his life. The first, his son is bitten by a scorpion. The second, he finds the most beautiful pearl of all time. 

In spite of the anticipated reaction of the local doctor, the baby hangs in there. It's only after news of the pear's discovery has traveled around the island that the doctor steps off his pedestal and deigns to offer treatment. This series of interactions arrives as a barrage of gut punches for the reader. 

Just as everything goes right, everything starts to go wrong. The world of finance closes in against him, he loses trust in everyone and is eventually brought down to the level of the exploiting classes when he loses the plot and attacks his wife for warning him that the pearl will only bring them bad luck. 

It's a raw and tough tale that somehow feels like it's going through the numbers, yet while on the journey of Kino and his family there is genuine tension created. As I read, it was as if the darkness was slowly closing in until finally there was no light remaining. 

A short work that may not be a keeper, but is one I'm not likely to forget in a hurry.

 

NOBODY RUNS FOREVER by RICHARD STARK

 

Nobody Runs Forever is a meaty read. It's full of tension and complication and the many strands weave together into an engrossing pattern with ease. 

I was so involved in it that I barely had time to dwell on the niggle that this is yet another job that Parker would have run a mile from in the past. There are so many wobbly pillars holding up the operation that the alarm bells were ringning mighty loud. There's the fragile confidence of the ex-con with access to the targetted bank information; his lover, wife of the bank owner, who is prone to lose her calm and act upon impulse; the bounty hunter after information about a recently disappeared criminal not long since dispatched by one of Parker's associates; the partner of the bounty hunter who just won't let go; the sister of the ex-con who wants to protect her brother at all costs; the doctor who allows his office to be used by the crew to hatch the robbery who needs the heist to come off as much as any of them; and a beautiful and wayward cop who is right on Parker's tail. 

It's a mess with all those loose ends, yet the plan is too well-formed to walk away from and from the mire of the build-up, the heist emerges. 

The layers of the story are handled brilliantly and the Parker's team have some of the best one-liners anywhere. There's no waste in terms of plot development or within the prose and every nail is hit right on the head. 

Stark really ramps up the tension in the aftermath of the robbery and when I read the final page, I'm pretty sure my jaw must have dropped and I was unsure of anything for a few minutes afterwards. It's such a brilliant ending that I urge you to pick up this one and give it a go. 

An excellent novel. 

One Man's Opinion: THE DEATH OF BUNNY MUNRO by NICK CAVE

The Death of Bunny Munro. 

Well, well, well.

I've been reflecting on this one for a few days and my main thought is that there's no way this would have been published with a biggie if it had been written by a lowly noir indie writer. That's no reflection on the quality of the prose and the poetic turns of phrase which are both excellent, but is more down to the content and the perversities of the protagonist. Bunny Munro is the kind or lowlife scum you're likely to bump into over at All Due Respect boooks, or Shotgun Honey or others of the darker indie presses out there, the kind of publishers who do it for love and likely make a loss rather than a profit on most of their ventures. It made me a little sad to be reminded, once again, that so many great writers out there don't possess the calling card of fame or celebrity to get through the front doors, past security and into the head offices. 

And none of that is Nick Cave's fault. All he has to do is create what is in his mind, work on it and produce things that the rest of us can enjoy.

Bunny Munro is a salesman. Mostly he has sex on the brain, but he also has sex on the bed, in hotel rooms, in restaurant bathrooms, with the lifeless and by himself. When this addiction is weaved within a pattern of alcoholism, it's innevitable that he hits the skids. For Bunny, his decline is almost entirely of his own making- rather than respond to his wife's needs, he leaves her hanging and when he returns home, he finds his son, Bunny Junior, is motherless. 

Bunny is now screwed in a very different way. He takes his son on the road as he travels from door to door peddling his wares. Sometimes he sells, sometimes he shags, sometimes he gets the crap beaten out of him. Before long, he's faced with his comeuppance, a new kind of hell that feels well-deserved (it's unusual for me not to have sympathy for an addict, but Bunny is an extremely unlovable rogue).

I didn't find this one easy. Some of the sexploits and being inside the head of such a mind made me feel unclean. I might have ducked out early if it hadn't been for the sense of exploration, the occasional miracle of phrasing, the cuirousity, the humour and the barbed tenderness of the father/son relationship and the originality of the whole piece.

I'm so glad I stuck with it as there's so much treasure to find. 

Can I recommend it? 

Within limited circles.

Will I be watching the TV adaptation?

Highly bloody unlikely.   

 

One Man's Opinion: FIREBREAK by RICHARD STARK

Just a mention before the review that the first three books in my Southsiders series are currently free on Amazon for Kindle over the next few days. They were first published by Blasted Heath, something I'm hugely proud of, and it was a collection of books that I loved writing. 

Now to Richard Stark.

I know I've been jumping around the Parker books without sense or direction, moving from Deadly Edge (published in 1971) to Firebreak (published in 2001). In some ways it's a big leap, but in others, not so much. In Deadly Edge, Parker's home is violated with lethal consequences for the invaders. Firebreak sees an assassination attempt down by the lakeside house by a professional hit man, as well the boobytrapping of Parker's home. In some ways, this link between the books made the leap satisfactory. It also highlighted in others, the lack of change in Parker over the years. Thirty years on from the last book and I didn't get any sense of physical or mental alteration. That took a little getting over, after all I'm used to characters like Rebus or Maigret ageing in natural time (perhaps it's different for the bad guys). It's a little bit like Parker has been dropped into a world where the internet exists and [of course] doesn't blink at the change. 

A bigger difference, for me, is the depth of the novel. I'm not the only one making jumps; Stark changes the viewpoint in this one several times, to the point of it jarring on occasion. There also feels like a lot more going on and with the increased number of facets comes further layers of jeopardy. 

Condensed version: Parker is invited onto an art heist aimed at stealing paintings that have been unseen for many years. Interrupting the plans are the attempts on Parker's life that need sorting tout suite. Complications come in the form of a police investigation, paroles, a less than stable team of crooks and a need for revenge. It's a lot to hold on to, but when Stark puts it all into the blender and presses the button, the resulting soup is tasty and full-blooded and, at times, absolutely intense. 

Less stripped down that earlier works, Firebreak manages to satisfy nonetheless. It's a great thriller and had me glued to it most of the time. 

Fun.