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Picks of the Week

  • Harry Dolan: Bad Things Happen

    Harry Dolan: Bad Things Happen
    BAD THINGS HAPPEN is a nifty debut, cleverly told and unfurled from the very first line: "The shovel has to meet certain requirements" on through meeting "the man who calls himself David Loogan." There are reasons for concealment, just as there are reasons the editor of a mystery magazine bearing little resemblance to EQMM or AHMM might bring him into the fold, thus catalyzing a series of murderous events. The twists come quickly and the dialogue is sharp and if it falls apart slightly at the end, no matter - I want to read much more from Dolan from now on.

  • Ian MacKenzie: City of Strangers: A Novel

    Ian MacKenzie: City of Strangers: A Novel
    MacKenzie's debut novel reminded me a lot of Paul Auster's NEW YORK TRILOGY, whether it was intended or not, in terms of his choice of words, the thrust of the narrative and the existential nature of the main character (whose first name, incidentally, is Paul) caught up in a snowballing sequence of strange and violent events in and around New York City. MacKenzie straddles the line between thriller and internal examination of a man's failings, and his ability to do so establishes him as a young writer of serious talent and future.

  • Megan Abbott: Bury Me Deep

    Megan Abbott: Bury Me Deep
    In a word: amazing. In more words: Megan Abbott, who has never delivered anything less than an excellent novel, exceeds expectations and takes a very bold and very necessary step forward both in the quality of the prose, the development of her characters and especially in portraying how obsession seeps into the very soul of people, transforming them into their worst nightmares all too easily. Just read this book. And then tell many others to do so as well.

  • Ninni Holmqvist: The Unit

    Ninni Holmqvist: The Unit
    Understandably, echoes of THE HANDMAID'S TALE are hard to ignore in this dystopic examination of a society where fertility is so high a priority that older, single, marginal women are shut away in secret locales to live out the rest of their lives in seemingly perfect harmony - at least, until the "donations" begin. But Holmqvist's marvelous book doesn't browbeat her thesis into the reader and smartly expands her ideas to look at the plight of all marginalized folk, women and men alike, and how the promise of comforts can be the most horrifying of all. Prepare to be disturbed, but prepare further to think about the ramifications.

  • Paula Froelich: Mercury in Retrograde

    Paula Froelich: Mercury in Retrograde
    This is possibly the most perfect novel for today's economically challenged times. Why? Because it has plenty of glitz and glamor and blind items, as befitting a narrative by the deputy editor of Page Six, but Froelich isn't arch or snarky or acid-tongued in the slightest. Her trio of protagonists land in all manner of embarrassing situations but they aren't played for mean-spirited laughs. The New York here is something of a fantasy-land, but not so far off the mark that it's completely unbelievable. Most of all it's clear Froelich remains sincere and optimistic about her chosen city, and has retained her sense of fun. So no need to check your brain at the door, but sometimes it just needs to chill out and relax.

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March 15, 2005

A generation thing?

Most of the time, I do like what the Washington Post's Patrick Anderson has to say. But unfortunately, there are times when I suspect he's pressed for time and really needs to fill the allotted word count, so the review ends up less about the book in question instead ofa particular soapbox he wants  to step on.

Which is to say that his review yesterday of ALL THE FLOWERS ARE DYING starts out well enough -- he didn't like the book, and an opinion's an opinion -- but then he throws this ending paragraph into the mix:

American crime fiction was born in the 1920s, its roots deep in the pulp magazines of the era, with their emphasis on masculinity, sadism and violence. Mickey Spillane's huge success in the 1950s embodied that hard-boiled tradition, and a writer like Block, starting out with paperback originals in the 1960s, also drew upon it. Today, Block does what he does as well as he's ever done it, but I think that time is passing him by. (As it must do to us all.) Another generation has come along. Crime writers now are publishing novels that are simply more interesting, imaginative and sophisticated than those of decades past. I've often listed my favorites among them -- Lehane, Pelecanos and Connelly are prominent on the list -- and, with all respect to Block and his body of work, they're where the action is now.

Good golly, Miss Molly, where to even start with this. Perhaps it might behoove Anderson to check out what Hard Case Crime is doing, where old and new pulp mesh together in startlingly good harmony. Let me throw some of my favorite "new" older writers into the mix -- Charles Willeford, Vin Packer, Dorothy B. Hughes, James McKimmey -- who packed in social commentary, human frailty, and kickass writing into 50-60,000 word books. Or Donald Westlake, who could write a new edition of the phone book and it would either be hilarious (as himself) or incredibly dark (as Richard Stark.) Or my favorite writer of all, Ross Thomas, who consistently wrote "interesting, imaginative and sophisticated" books that are a bloody master class in how to write a good crime novel.

Anderson mentions a few writers of this so-called "new generation" but one he doesn't -- though he's on record about how much he loves his work (for good reason -- is Michael Gruber. Born in 1940, which makes him a mere 2 years older than Block. "Another generation," indeed.

And, with all due respect to Anderson, that "other generation" that's come along? They're the established guard now, and have been for several years. Maybe it's time for him -- and for others -- to spend less time disparaging older writers and look a little further down the decade line. To young writers, published and unpublished, who take their influences from a vast array of different sources, old, new, crime fiction and otherwise.

Because a good chunk of the action and excitement is with them. And with others whom we don't even know about yet. If it's a generation thing, then thank god the torch is still being passed and that people still care about crime fiction. At any age.

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Comments

Not so sure Anderson is talking about age when he mentions "another generation." I came to a sampling of Bloch very late, and then read an early novel (The Cancelled Czech). I found it incredibly wanting. I think some of the "new generation" of writers tries to delve deeper and cover more ground when dealing with human nature. They focus interest on character rather than just plot/action. I'm all for it.

While it's true that there are differences in style between Block, Connelly and Pelecanos (to name 3), I'm not sure those differences are a result of generation. I'm always wary of making declarations as to why a particular writer writes in a certain way.

Block is the equal of those two; all three are masters. Rather than lament that one writes this way and one writes that, I embrace the fact that the genre has three such wonderful, unique voices.

Block's time is now, just as it always has been. Nothing's passed him by.

http://www.januarymagazine.com/crfiction/allflowers.html

ALL THE FLOWERS ARE DYING is crime fiction at its best

Ali

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