Books: Cop Hater By Ed McBain (1956)

 

“The city has surrendered to a heat wave in July 1956. When detective Mike Reardon is on the way to work on the nightshift, he is murdered from behind with a .45 caliber handgun. As Steve Carella and his colleagues from the 87th Precinct are looking for their friend's killer, they have no idea that this is just the beginning of a series of police murders. David Foster is the next victim, at the entrance of his apartment, where the killer has left behind a footprint at the crime scene. Steve Carella and Hank Bush question the family and wives of the deceased, as well as some suspects, but to no avail. A few nights later the unknown killer ambushes and murders Det. Hank Bush. Bush fought back however and shot and wounded the murderer. Steve Carella fears he will be the next target if he fails to stop him.”

The first 87^th Precinct novel was groundbreaking when published in 1956 and while McBain (born Salvatore Albert Lombino in 1926, he legally changed his name to Evan Hunter in May 1952, after an editor told him that a novel he wrote would sell more copies if credited to Evan Hunter than to S. A. Lombino. Thereafter, he used the name Evan Hunter both personally and professionally) wrote a total 55 novels set there between ’56 and his passing in 2005, his writing influenced many writers of the era and those on the rise (Lawrence Block, Donald E. Westlake and even Stephen King). It’s a gritty, lean tale long before the word “procedural” had entered the lexicon. While I’m not a huge fan of this sub-genre of mysteries, I found myself enjoying the book –though I admit now I was surprised how much ground the book covered and was just easier to read (unlike the bulk of today’s procedurals, like the last book I read, The Grave Tattoo by Val McDermid).

The book holds up pretty well for a sixty-eight year-old release (and while my TBR pile continues to grow, I procured this book from The Friends of the Library section located in Culver City Julian Dixon Library for .50 and felt for that cheap a price and 236 page count, I could easily digest it), and it’s interesting to learn about an era of police work that depended more on looking at file cards of recently released felons or getting fingerprint results back from the FBI via special delivery, than what we see on TV today. So there is no tricks here, and if you look carefully, you can spot who is responsible for the murders (a dubious long game, and a little bit odd).

While the book is a bit unsentimental and harsh, there are some funny bits here and there. The relationships of the cops, how they work together, how things are tough for everyone, how they work with such evil but sometimes find the humor in the darkness is the high point for me.

Still, not saying I would commit to reading the other 54 books in this series. But you never know, I guess. You never know.

Books: The Grave Tattoo By Val McDermid (2006)

“For centuries Lakelanders have whispered that Fletcher Christian staged the massacre on Pitcairn so that he could return home. And there he told his story to an old friend and schoolmate, William Wordsworth, who turned it into a long narrative poem – a poem that remained hidden lest it expose Wordsworth to the gallows for harbouring a fugitive. Wordsworth specialist Jane Gresham, herself a native of the Lake District, feels compelled to discover once and for all whether the manuscript ever existed – and whether it still exists today. But as she pursues each new lead, death follows hard on her heels. Suddenly Jane is at the heart of a 200-year-old mystery that still has the power to put lives on the line. Against the dramatic backdrop of England’s Lake District a drama of life and death plays out, its ultimate prize a bounty worth millions.” 

I did enjoyed this thriller from prolific Scottish writer Val McDermid. I’ve always wanted to read her, but my desire to start another series has made the idea a complex problem. So this stand-alone tale of historical happenings mixed with murder and modern science was a good compromise. I did find that I liked the historical stuff much more fascinating than the current issues that surrounded Jane Gresham. While it would not lead to read anything Wordsworth wrote, I found the research appealing

Still, I would be remiss if I did not point out how all the characters are thinly designed –and some, like Tenille- just a stereotype with a bit more intelligence –though like a lot of teenagers, she does dumb stuff that hurts her more than helps. Everyone else is just mean and crotchety for seemly no reason. Not living in the UK or Scotland, maybe these people do act this way, but I found the repeated use of this cliché irritating. I could not even care about Jane’s relationship with her brother Matthew, which was more soap opera than reality.

Still, I wonder why McDermid added the additional sub-plot of the murders. I think this book could’ve succeed without them, as the McGuffin of the missing epic poem was good enough to keep readers interested, but I guess she’s known as a crime novelist, so she had to stay in her lane. Of course, it would’ve been a shorter novel, and publishers need pages to justify those expensive hardcover releases.

I’m intrigued by McDermid’s prose, but I wonder is any of her multiple series she’s penned are like this, filled with stick-figure characterization, mean and ugly people, and a disappointing murder reveal?

Books: The Guncle Abroad By Steven Rowley (2024)

“It’s been five years since Patrick’s niece Maisie and nephew Grant spent the summer with him in Palm Springs, playing caretaker after their mother’s passing. The kids are back in Connecticut with their dad, and Patrick has relocated to New York to remain close by and relaunch his dormant acting career. After the run of his second successful sitcom comes to a close, Patrick feels on top of the world professionally. But some things have had to take a back seat. Looking down both barrels at fifty, Patrick is single again after breaking things off with Emory. But at least he has a family to lean on. Until that family needs to again lean on him. When Patrick's brother, Greg, announces he’s getting remarried in Italy, Maisie and Grant are not thrilled. Patrick feels drawn to take the two back under his wing. As they travel through Europe on their way to the wedding, Patrick tries his best to help them understand love, much as he once helped them comprehend grief. But when they arrive in Italy, Patrick is overextended managing a groom with cold feet; his sister, Clara, flirting with guests left and right; a growing rivalry with the kids’ charming soon-to-be-launt (lesbian aunt), and two moody young teens trying to adjust to a new normal, all culminating in a disastrous rehearsal dinner.”

It seems logical for author Steven Rowley to return to his one book that seemed to get universal appeal, the one book that anyone could read and not take too much offense with it. I’ve liked this authors books, even the overly-ambitious The Celebrants, and doing a sequel to a beloved tome is always fraught with danger, but in the end, I enjoyed being back in Patrick’s world, even if I felt the sitcom jokes got in the way of any real character development. Still, I got a lot of Patrick’s obscure pop culture jokes (I know many young people in their thirties that would never get the Doublemint Twin joke, let alone those even younger) and because they landed for me, it made me feel a bit less grumpy; it’s like there is someone out there who thinks in the same way I do.

Anyways, the trio spend a few weeks gallivanting around the most tourist guide-book types of European hotspots as they count – oh, to be this rich and white. There are a few great set pieces here, the Sound of Music tour being the best, but the sort of slapstick, yet sad wedding rehearsal comes to mind as well.

Anyways, as they travel, Patrick gets a glimpse into Maisie’s feelings about getting a stepmother at fourteen  –even if she and her brother seem enamored with Livia’s sister, Palmina, the new lesbian aunt (who they call Launt). Grant seems less enthused with it as well, but because he was so young when his mother passed, I sense he’s more open to having his Dad remarry.

As I mentioned in my take on The Guncle, I can understand both the kids’ feelings on this. Losing a parent was hard as a child, and while I had no one to really talks to about my feelings, it’s great to see that today when a child does loose a parent, and there are a team of relatives and what not to help them cope. And though I took two tries, once my Mom settled into her third marriage, I got the best stepdad anyone could ask for. Still, even her second marriage was not so bad –he had his own issues (a hero complex), but he gave my Mom the ability to grow.

Much like The Guncle, in The Guncle Abroad you have a feel good book for summer –and those brought up in the 1970s will get a lot of Patrick’s jokes. It’s a fun, and sometimes funny look, at our current times, even if my family is somewhat dysfunctional. But like any book that features a somewhat lovable family that somehow gets along, it’s also a fantasy. But one I wish now –at end of my own dysfunctional life- I could’ve had.

Books: Baby, Would I Lie? By Donald E. Westlake (1994)

“Having endured the seedy world of tabloid journalism at the Weekly Galaxy, ambitious reporter Sara Joslyn has finally moved on to Trend, a hip New York magazine. But news is news, and Sara is immediately sent to Branson, Missouri, the capital of wholesome entertainment, to cover a sensational celebrity trial. Embattled country music legend Ray Jones is accused of a brutal kidnapping and killing. Making—and mucking—matters worse, Sara’s sleazy former colleagues from the Weekly Galaxy have also infested the town. Sara is surprised by how much she enjoys a bit of pure, proud Americana—as well as the ruggedly smooth Ray Jones. But when he’s suspected of a second homicide, Sara realizes there’s more to the story. And that someone decidedly unwholesome is getting away with murder in the heartland.”

Apparently, this is a sequel Trust Me on This, a previous Westlake novel I’ve yet to get to (but have), which sort of explains a lot. All through the book, I felt I was missing something, but could not figure out what it was. Pulling information on my review, I discovered why.

Westlake takes a break from his beloved New York and moves down to Branson, Missouri, for this reasonably good whodunit about a famous musician being tried for murder and the machinations that journalists (both good and bad) get up to.

By setting the story in the south, you still get occasional doses Westlake’s patented metaphors and some goofy twists. Of course, setting it in Branson, allows Westlake to mock everything about the place, but like any northern writer taking on the south’s weirdness, it sometimes comes across as mean-spirited. The characters are all pretty horrible, which is another trademark of the writer, but there is a bit of overused put-downs of fat people and fried food.

It has a clever twist at the ending, which does show not everyone is an idiot. And the fact that everything is laid out throughout the book and I still surprised at the long con, shows you what Westlake was always brilliant at –keep them guessing.