The threat is real for most of Sugar on the Bones... up until the end when only the threat of a possibility is real.
Similar to Game of Thrones, the reThe threat is real for most of Sugar on the Bones... up until the end when only the threat of a possibility is real.
Similar to Game of Thrones, the reader learns that a hero in the Hap and Leonard stories isn't immune from being killed off, and this volume keeps the focus on mortality. The boys are older, their lives are more settled and they've grown to appreciate comfort more than adventure. In fact the only thing pulling them along at this point is their sense of justice.
"Just never occurred to me too often we could be killed. I mean, you're you and I'm me, and we have been through some serious shit. Nearly died but have always come out of things okay. Now I think about what we're doing and think maybe we won't come out okay."
Lansdale has culled the cast a bit, a move guaranteed to upset some fans I'm sure, but perfectly within his authorial rights. Did they earn their deaths? Maybe not: one is a shocker fueling motivation for revenge (as does any innocent victim along the way). But another more faithfully supports the theme of mortality and justice. It's a little more thematically warranted. It’s more contemplative, captured in this noteworthy passage:
"Life has gotten too heavy. It weighs on me when I lay down. Thought I'd come here and see the sunrise. I haven't seen one for about as long as I haven't slept. You'd think being awake so much, I'd see one, but I haven't. I didn't know I was missing seeing one until lately. I intend to see one this morning. Sun should rise where I'm looking. There's nothing in the way of my view besides memories.
The central crime of the story is pleasingly gruesome. Even though their old allies answer their desperate call (gun-for-hire Joe Bob Luke, assassin Vanilla Ride and even the lawyer Veil), Hap and Leonard are outwitted and only saved by luck.
Lansdale foreshadows the final assault in the first pages to hook you along. Action and fatality keeps the plot moving.
Wry and raunchy humor also pervades the story, which is no surprise for anyone who's already familiar with Lansdale’s work:
"I'm not in the mood, baby," she said.
"That's all right," I said. "Could you get in the mood?"
"Yep," Brett said. "Poor Pete. I feel sorry for him. About all he ever did was raise the temperature in a room."
... Vanilla repositioned herself. The way she moved was raw sexuality seasoned with hot sauce and pepper.
Brett gave me the side-eye, and I tried to think about cats, but that didn't lead to a good place either, so I thought about tacos, but that wasn't working for sure, and so I thought about a nice quiet place by the beach with me under a tree and the wind blowing and Brett holding a gun to my head, and that almost worked.
The similes are nearly all non-sequiturs, most of them didn't land for me, and while I love the "elephant of surprise" insider joke, it's a bit overused here if you've heard it before.
Surprisingly the villains aren't all that fleshed out. Details of their schemes and theories about their roles inside a larger organization are hypothetical. Hap and Leonard eventually meet one of them, but despite that they aren't very well-rounded. The criminals and their gang are ultimately no more than targets in a turkey shoot, especially in the finale.
Most of the points go to Vanilla while Hap and Leonard manage to remain unscathed and essentially spectators to the sniper action. Presumably the next novel will delve deeper into the shadowy organization hinted at in Elephant of Surprise and continued here in Sugar on the Bones, and put Purple Eyes back on the hook....more
Blood on the Moon is signature 80s serial killer worship. It's considered early Ellroy, and it's amazing how much his writing matured over the next feBlood on the Moon is signature 80s serial killer worship. It's considered early Ellroy, and it's amazing how much his writing matured over the next few years (Black Dahlia was only a few years away!). This first novel in the Lloyd Hopkins series demonstrates Ellroy's unique voice, but it's nothing close to what's in store.
The first scene introduces the three antagonists, and Ellroy narrows it to the primary killer's identity at about a third of the way through. The only piece left to uncover is the killer's name. Lloyd identifies the threat, but ineptly fails to recognize the immediate danger:
The dream lover continued to send the flowers, anonymously, for many years. Over eighteen years. Always when the lonely woman needed them most ... Then he stood up and helped Kathleen to her feet. "I think your dream lover is a very strange fighter," he said, "and I think he wants to own you, not inspire you..."
Ellroy is a crime writer after all, and the opening scene is a graphic, brutal rape:
He pulled down his fly to deliver a warm liquid coup de grace, and discovered he was hard.
They left him there, bereft of tears or the will to feel anything beyond the hollowness of his devastation.
The violence settles down a bit, but it's never far away:
They couldn't even mark the outline of the stiff with chalk, they had to use tape.
This leaves the spotlight on the characters themselves more than the plot. Unfortunately even though the characters have personalities, but they’re still cardboard thin, and fall apart under only light scrutiny. Lloyd himself is as criminal, and nearly as damaged as the killer, but he ultimately landed in law enforcement. He's chasing a "white light", a concept that Ellroy never really develops. His 'sidekick,' Dutch, is a veteran cop who appreciates Lloyd's genius for solving crime. Dutch is the only truly likeable character mainly because he's more relatable than the rest of the frail and unbalanced cast. The women often fight back, but they're no more than fodder for the killer.
Lloyd's a womanizer, devoted to his children, but doomed to lose his wife as expected in any generic cop story. The women he sees on the side are free-wheeling, future collateral victims.
Worst of all is the psychobabble Ellroy uses to explain the homosexual motives of the killer, and Kathleen McCarthy's sentimental pseudo-feminism. It's as if he wants to champion the underdog, but doesn't have the information, nor any personally relatable experience to do it properly.
Blood on the Moon is more style than substance, likely more interesting for fans who are curious about the progress of his career, and those who are satisfied with boilerplate 80s serial killer stories....more
The plots in the Homicide Trinity short story trilogy are fairly far-fetched.
"Eeny Meeny Murder Mo" presents less of the possible conspiracy that it bThe plots in the Homicide Trinity short story trilogy are fairly far-fetched.
"Eeny Meeny Murder Mo" presents less of the possible conspiracy that it builds up than what it actually appears to be on the surface.
The trouble was that the problem was too damn simple. We knew that one of three men had committed murder, and how and when. Okay, which one? Eeny meeny murder mo. Even the why was plain enough; Mrs. Sorell had hooked him with an offer, either of a big slice of the thirty million she was after or of more personal favors.
"Death of a Demon" is about Nero Wolfe's guilty conscience and how he tries to negate it. It's a clever puzzle, but a bit of an eye-roll when you step back from it.
You were being blackmailed by [him], either collectively--please don't interrupt. Either collectively or separately. He had other victims, but you four alone were paying him around a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, ostensibly for professional services, but that was merely a subterfuge.
The fundamental logic pointing to the culprit in "Counterfeit for Murder" is fine, but there are some inferences and leaps that feel like Stout is cheating a bit.
"[she] was an agent of the Secret Service of the Treasury Department, and she--"
"Who said so?" Leach demanded.
"No one. Mr. Goodwin inferred it.
Rex Stout's style consistently proves to be a very light touch with simple brush strokes that paint you into the scene with admirable ease. It's easy to miss but always there to appreciate:
... but as we were taking off our coats in the hall a voice came booming down the stairs.
"Is that you, Hattie?"
The owner of the voice was following it down.
The humor in Homicide Trinity is noteworthy. At times it's farcical, but always in character and it enhances the experience. As narrator, Archie has the lion's share, but he has some help from Wolfe himself (and the indomitable Hattie Annis in "Counterfeit for Murder").
"She climbed out a window?" Otis demanded.
[Archie:] "Yes, sir. It's a mere conjecture, but it fits. The window was wide open, and she's not in the room, and she's not outside. I looked."
It was 9:32 by my watch, and 9:34 by the clock on the wall, which was wrong...
[Wolfe] leaned back, closed his eyes, and pushed his lips out. In a moment he pulled them in, and then out and in, out and in. He was working. A minute passed, two minutes, three... He opened his eyes and straightened up. "Lock the box and leave it on your desk. Put the keys away. Have a gun in your hand when you admit them, and go to your desk and stay there.
I suppose a DA has as much right to be a damfool as the people who voted for him.
Hattie Annis is even more of a smart alec than Archie! Carol Burnett could have played her role perfectly!
"If you please." Wolfe was curt. "To the point."
"I'll get there, Falstaff. Let the lady talk."
Archie, Woolf, and therefore the reader are all in on the joke when the Secret Service and local law enforcement scramble for the same evidence;
"It's a problem," I said. "Leach has signed a receipt for it, but I can tear it up. Why don't you split it half and half?"
Cramer stood at arm's length from the T-man. A muscle in the side of his neck was twitching. That's evidence in a murder case," he said. "I have a court order for it."
"So have I," Leach said. "From a Federal court."
The plots, though somewhat weak, are still varied enough not to be stale for someone who's read others in the series. More significantly the characters are definitely in a rut, but Stout's decision to parody them manages to keeps these stories fresh....more
Prisoner's Base has some of Hitchcock's Rear Window suspense for a particular chapter. Archie listens on the phone, hoping to stop a possible murder. Prisoner's Base has some of Hitchcock's Rear Window suspense for a particular chapter. Archie listens on the phone, hoping to stop a possible murder. The reader shares his burden.
Stout works against some of his own conventions in Prisoner's Base. The misogynist, Wolfe, treats women with relative respect here (as much as the cantankerous egoist can show respect to anyone). Archie is his client, and collaborates more closely with the police than usual. None of these are normal for the series.
A linen company's board members face losing their shares to an heiress who is coming of age. Legal wrangling surrounds the plot with three lawyers each representing a separate client's claim. The heiress visits Wolfe, uninvited, and is victimized a short time after he sends her away. Wolf tries to separate himself from the case professionally, but he is partially responsible. Archie personally feels the responsibility, and presents his case to Wolfe in a way that highlights the subtle distinction of ethics vs morals. Ethics can be unjustly used as a procedure to shield culpability.
I should think that you do have something to start--a murder investigation. And you also have a client--your self-esteem."
The true central character in the Nero Wolfe series is Archie Goodwin. Wolfe is an aloof genius operating from a distance giving Archie advice, making plans and issuing orders. Archie is the classy, snappy, man in-the-know, directly involved in gathering information for the investigation, and it's pleasing to spend time with his character.
"Look, Lieutenant." I was earnest. "It has always been a pleasure to lie to you, and will be again..."
It was a pleasure to go for that lawyer and usher him in to the red leather chair, but I must admit that physically he was nothing to flaunt. I have never seen a balder man, and his hairless freckled dome had a peculiar attraction. It was covered with tiny drops of sweat, and nothing ever happened to them. He didn't touch them with a handkerchief, they didn't get larger or merge and trickle, and they didn't dwindle. They just stood pat. There was nothing repulsive about them, but after ten minutes or so the suspense was quite a strain.
"This is Sarah Jaffee. I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Goodwin, did I wake you up?" "Not quite. Go ahead and finish it."
Some chauffeurs of PD cars like to have an excuse to step on it, and some don't. That one did... As I got out I told him he should have an insurance vending machine, like those at airports, installed on his dash, and he grinned sociably.
The overall subject of business and legal maneuvering isn't all that difficult to follow, but it isn't especially interesting either. It tends to saturate sections of the book, slowing it down. The suspense scene over the phone, and Archie's likeable narration save Prisoner's Base from its own plot....more
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