Month: June 2006

As you know, I have glutted myself on cheap book club editions of Ed McBain books at book fairs throughout the St. Louis area this spring. I bought this one for a dollar at the Greater St. Louis Book Fair, much like the others I’ve read recently Poison and Ice. As the 1990 entry, this book takes place two novels after Poison.

The main plot deals with the murder of a priest in a small, rundown church in a small, rundown neighborhood. Carella and Hawes have their hands full trying to decipher from among the myriad stories and possibilities. Was it a drug dealer who had hidden drugs in the church? Was it the neighborhood toughs? Was it the local Satanist church, or perhaps someone who was carnally involved with the priest?

Main subplot deals with Marilyn Hollis, introduced in Poison, who has to deal with her dark past as two men associated with her Argentinian pimp who’ve come back for money, for vengeance, for subplot reasons.

This book comes from the time where I started contemporaneously reading McBain; once I started reading his work, I started with some of the older books, of which there were plenty; after this point, I started reading them as they came out. I don’t recollect reading this one, but I remember how immediate the characters were and how they aged and evolved in realish time for me after this.

Of course it’s a good book, and I’d recommend it for some light suspense/mystery/police procedural reading. But you, gentle reader, know if the blog post title says “by Ed McBain” or “by John D. MacDonald,” you’re in for some sloppy kissing on my part. Consider this installment done, but for the gratuitous links to Amazon by which if you should click through and buy one of the titles, I can make pennies!

I bought this book for like a quarter this weekend at a garage sale. Did I overpay? Probably. Although, I have to say, Jeff Foxworthy is pretty funny performing, although his country countdown radio program isn’t so exciting. I’ve got one of his comedy CDs and everything.

However, this book merely collects Foxworthy’s most famous one liners. That’s it. Just the one liners without Foxworthy’s expert comic timing or delivery. Some are amusing on their own, but in the aggregate, they’re not as funny collected in a book as, say, The Late Night With David Letterman’s Book of Top Ten Lists. The humor in these stands alone, aside from the performance.

Of course, you have my opinion here versus the opinion of buyers everywhere who kept this book in print for fifteen years. It’s a quick read though, worthy of a browse, I suppose, as you’re waiting for a hockey game to start, much like I did. Also, it’s good for boosting one’s annual books read rate.

So it’s probably a waste of time, but in the book’s defense, it doesn’t claim to be anything else and it’s not much time anyway.

This 87th Precinct novel runs a weighty 317 pages and delves into character depth that many of the novels don’t. As a matter of fact, one of the great appeals of this particular series, over its 40 some years, is that the books vary not only in plot, but also stylistically. Some are quick epidodes at 150 pages with lots of reproduced police forms to pad them, and some, like this one, are denser prose.

The story details the murder of an actress in a hit play downtown. The 87th Precinct inherits the case as a small time drug pusher in their precinct died from the same lead poisoning days before. As they try to find a connection between the coke dealer and the actress, they have to deal with their own issues, particularly Kling’s failed marriage to model Augusta Blair.

I suppose it helps read these books in order….for example, the book I read previously, Poison, takes place after this books, so the personal relationships are advanced beyond where they are in this book. I already know how the romances and whatnot will turn out, but the books don’t hinge on the personal relationships alone. Instead, the plots and the basic familarity with the characters and the rotation of the characters and….blah blah blah.

You know I like ’em, and I’m going to keep reading them and picking them up whenever I can for a buck a crack at book fairs. I got this one, among others, at the Greater St. Louis Book Fair. So be warned, this won’t be the last book report of an Ed McBain book you ignore in the coming months.

As some of you know, I bought four of Roger L. Simon’s Moses Wine novels The Big Fix, Peking Duck, The Lost Coast, and this book) for $5 a throw at a remaindered book store in November, 2004. Oh, how the world has changed since then. Roger L. Simon is now an Internet mogul. Byron Preiss, the man behind the company that reissued the novels, has died and the iBooks has gone belly up. And I’m in no danger of becoming a Moses Wine fan.

This book deals with Moses Wine, ca. 1985, joining a computer company patterned after Apple as its director of security. Wine is given cryptic instructions by the Wiz (not Woz, get it?) that Wine’s not only to handle security, but to look into…something. It’s corporate espionage and it requires a trip to Japan (much like Peking Duck requires a trip to China). We get the obligatory action in Japan, wherein the first person narrator who’s never been to Japan and doesn’t know much about the country provides some excellent expository information. In the end, of course, it’s the government agent gone rogue that’s killing everyone. Except for the Russians, who are killing people too. Or someone.

Here are some quick bullet points that capture what bothers me about this book and the series:

• Moses Wine has been on the cover of Rolling Stone. When a private detective becomes a celebrity, I don’t really relate to the character much. See also Robert Crais’s Elvis Cole.
• The voice of the first time visitor to Japan laying on the expository information and Japanese terms rankles me. It’s the sound of an author who wants to show he’s done his research.
• Although I didn’t work at a computer company in the 1980s, I’ve done my time in the 1990s and the 2000s. I found the characterization of the culture at Tulip facile.
• The introductions by the author were a bit much. I guess that’s what they wanted with the reissues, but I found it self-indulgent.
• Moses Wine reminds me less of Lew Archer and more of Dirk Gently, with drug use and nonchalant sex.

There you have it. I made it through the four books I read, and don’t plan to seek out the remaining in the series.