“Charlie Poole is an apathetic young man who’s perfectly
content to run a neighborhood bar in Canarsie, New York. The bar is owned by
Charlie’s Uncle Al, who’s a mid-level gangster. Occasionally, Charlie has to
hold a package at the bar for somebody until it’s picked up later, and while he
suspects this has something to do with his uncle’s criminal activities, he
never asks for details. He doesn’t want to know. But
then late one night as he’s about to close up, two strangers come in, and
Charlie quickly realizes that they’re hit men sent there to kill him. He has no
idea why anybody would send killers after him, but when he manages to escape
with his life, he decides that he’d better figure it out in a hurry, because
the two assassins are still on his trail. This is the beginning of a whirlwind
three days in which Charlie tries to find out who wants him dead and why, an
investigation complicated by the fact that he has to keep dodging the two hit
men. Along the way he runs into a murder (for which he’s blamed, naturally) and
a beautiful young woman (for whom he falls, naturally).”
The Fugitive Pigeon was sort of a watershed moment in
Donald E. Westalke’s writing career. After publishing some heavy crime fiction
novels, this one became his first comic caper. According to the Westlake Review
site, Pigeon started out as a serious mystery/thriller “involving a
young man in a dangerous situation with organized crime, much like two of his
earlier novels for Random House, and as Westlake put it, “’It’s been coming out
funny.’” Told to “curb his comedic impulse” by Henry Morrison, who worked at
the Scott Meredith Literary Agency, due to American humor not translating well
overseas, Westlake eventually ignored that advice. Lucky for him, The
Fugitive Pigeon went on to outsell his previous serious-minded Random House
mysteries by roughly a two-to-one margin. And thus this set up everything that
came after, as he vacillated between some serious crime thrillers and some
laugh-out-loud humorous capers. Also,
the book was originally entitled The Dead Nephew, “but it got changed to
The Fugitive Pigeon, because Lee Wright, Westlake’s talented but quirky
editor at Random House, didn’t like titles with the word ‘dead’ in them.”
There is not much in the way of slapstick
humor that would show up in Westlake’s later works, but The Fugitive Pigeon is
still a fast paced thriller/mystery. It’s a tightly plotted, linear
first-person narrative that unravels like a traditional whodunit. It’s fun, and
sometimes funny, book that also marked a huge transitional shift in Westlake’s publishing
career. It proved to the publishers that a writer is not always the sum of his
or her parts, that they don’t have to be stuck in one genre –or for Westlake-
the same genre, but could write both serious and comedic tales.
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