Ex-marine, ex-FBI, "special jobs" specialist Joe is a more complicated and tormented character than Richard Stark's Parker, but he has the same kind oEx-marine, ex-FBI, "special jobs" specialist Joe is a more complicated and tormented character than Richard Stark's Parker, but he has the same kind of violent and calculating velocity when action is required. Joe's jobs involve rescuing kidnapped young girls from the sex trade. He's very good at what he does, but he wonders, at age 48, if he's slipping. He's even contemplated suicide. More than once. His latest job involves the missing daughter of state senator. He takes the job, but something doesn't seem right about the senator. After a trip to the hardware store to pick a hammer, things go south from there. I really admired the economy of this novella-length story, though I wouldn't have minded an extra fifty pages of exposition as opposed to obvious (but well done) narrative cheats used to explain backgrounds and dirty doings. I was also bothered by what seemed a large improbability, then recalled Chinatown. It's a dark world. (I look forward to seeing how this is handled in the movie.) I'm somewhat torn over the ending since it suggests the possibility of a sequel. I might prefer the promise of what is to come (given the novel's final image) without the actual book. But if there is a book, I'll be sure to read it. Highly recommended....more
When I saw there was a sequel to The Outlaw Josey Wales (the Good Reads link doesn't seem to work, but it's on my "Westerns" shelf), I wondered why ClWhen I saw there was a sequel to The Outlaw Josey Wales (the Good Reads link doesn't seem to work, but it's on my "Westerns" shelf), I wondered why Clint Eastwood didn't film it. The original was a good sized hit, and the movie is now considered a cult classic. Then, about the mid way point, I saw a significant, unfilmable speed bump in what has to be one of the most violent rape scenes that I have run across in fiction. It's not gratuitous, it fits the context. And this is a novel of vengeance, so the stars get aligned in the end, but it is rough to read.
That long aside, or spoiler, or whatever, I feel is necessary if you want to pursue the Wales story some more. The novel also opens with a brutal scene that also is sexually sadistic, as a group of Rurales, led by a career driven maniac, invade The Lost Lady Saloon, which was Josey's in-town hang out at the end of the earlier novel. It's there some loyal friends get abused, and it's there that the Rurales end up on the list of a man with a remorseless Highland-Outlaw Code. And that's really what the book is about. The Code. It isn't just Josey's code, as he recognizes fellow travelers in a dying Mexican bandit, a stoic young Apache woman, and a seemingly lost gambler trying to find himself.
Carter is a complicated guy with a very controversial past. At one time he was a rabid racist and Klansman, but one who also wrote an award winning children's book. Somewhere along the line it seems he tried to reinvent himself (as a Cherokee!). He would die in a murky brawl with one of his sons. Some said he never changed. Maybe, but Josey Wales is not a racist story. If anything, it's the opposite, as Wales gathers the outcasts, the cripples, and the weak under his protection. The outlaw's guns seem firmly aimed at corruption and the arrogance of class and wealth. The Vengeance Trail is pulp, but also more than that. There's a rough genius to Carter, and I don't say that lightly. I wish he'd lived longer and given us more than two Josey Wales novels.
Wheeeee! Fun Land! More Laymon mayhem that gives ominous meaning to Under the Boardwalk. Not the best Laymon I've read, but perhaps more interesting tWheeeee! Fun Land! More Laymon mayhem that gives ominous meaning to Under the Boardwalk. Not the best Laymon I've read, but perhaps more interesting than most, since there actually seems to be a few things going on beneath the surface. Peer pressure and teens, homeless people, revenge, all come into play, but with Laymon's spin that includes a giant spider, punk rockers, murderous freaks & geeks, a banjo playing heroine, and a FunHouse battle that reminded me of the end of Them. Some reviewers have dinged this one for being long and padded. It is long (500 pages), but with Laymon the pages tend to fly by. So I'm OK with that. I actually think Laymon spent the extra pages to establish the boardwalk/beach atmosphere. And on that front, I think the novel succeeds.
The story line is fairly simple, with teen age vigilantes ("trollers") terrorizing crazy homeless people ("trolls") who are hanging around the amusement park at the board walk in Boleta Bay. But there's more to it than that since people have been disappearing around Boleta Bay -- for years. The leader of the teen age gang, Tanya, is one mean psycho who seems to be losing it, and quickly. But there's a reason for that, and by book's end she's a tragic figure trapped in revenge mode. One of the cool things about this book is that Laymon cuts against your expectations. Yes, some of the trolls are just mentally ill, but some are also really bad, as a crusading newspaper writer finds out. One thing missing, or not as prevalent as I've found in other Laymon novels, is the humor. There are funny moments, but not as many. There's more real sadness to this effort, despite the Fun Land glitter and lights....more
Pretty good western that left me wishing (again) that Goodreads had a half star option. This one is not quite 4 but better than 3. Jones did a lot of Pretty good western that left me wishing (again) that Goodreads had a half star option. This one is not quite 4 but better than 3. Jones did a lot of research on the particulars of buffalo hunting, Cheyenne culture, and history of the West. The book opens with a grim catalogue of atrocity in Wisconsin (Wisconsin Death Trip -- 1873!). People are starving, suicides, murder. The Dousmann family suffers through two suicides (Mother & Father) when the family farm is on the verge of going to the bank. The surviving daughter, Jenny, is thus reunited with her brother, Otto, a Civil War veteran and current buffalo hunter.
Jenny's a spunky girl, and has no desire to be a homebody back in Wisconsin, so she follows her brother back west to hunt buffalo. The carnage of the buffalo kill off cannot be overstated, and Jones does a great job illustrating the horrific scale -- and waste. There's also a genocidal (beyond the buffalo) aspect to this. Prefacing the book is a stunning comment from Columbus Delano, Secretary of the Interior at the time, about the need to get rid of the buffalo, and thus break the Indian's will to resist. Genocide is not explicit in this statement, but the human cost was undeniable.
Back to the story. Jenny learns the ropes of killing and cooking buffalo, and joins the team, which includes a former Confederate office, Raleigh McKay, who has the tragic history of having been the man to shoot Stonewall Jackson. I thought this bit of storytelling was a mistake. Historical novels have to juggle such facts all the time, but this particular event struck me as being too big and too singular. On the other hand, SOMEBODY had to kill Stonewall, but I think the tragic flaw in McKay's character could of been revealed with a less monumental F-UP.
The buffalo hunting crew also includes Tom Two Shields, a half Indian (Cheyenne), who is secretly scouting out the "spider" people (Whites), and Milo Sykes, a redneck from Georgia. At this point the Cheyenne element kicks in. The Indians see, clearly, what the loss of the buffalo means, and try to stop it. It was also around this point where the novel shifted its tone. Originally the novel was written along the lines of a piece of serious Western fiction, kind of like Ron Hansen's Jesse James novels. But then things sort of morphed into a genre-pulp effort. I'm not complaining. The apocalyptic ending makes for a satisfying ending, complete with hideous tortures, scalps flapping, and a Gatling gun. And it also helps to bridge over the somewhat unbelievable transformation of Jenny and Otto. But there's no question that such a shift marks a novel as uneven in its execution....more
I’ve been meaning to get back to some sort of review on this one, especially since it seems the same-titled Eastwood movie is now showing all the timeI’ve been meaning to get back to some sort of review on this one, especially since it seems the same-titled Eastwood movie is now showing all the time on various cable channels. I think it’s now considered a “classic” Western. It’s a pretty good movie, and I seem to like it better now than when it first came out.
The book, The Outlaw Josey Wales is not a movie tie-in novel. The original effort was actually titled The Rebel Outlaw: Josey Wales, and Gone to Texas (which I think also contains the one sequel, Josey Wales: On the Vengeance Trail. The book is actually very good and impressed Eastwood enough to film it. It’s Pulp, but it’s Grade A Pulp of a thoughtful kind. The author, Forrest Carter, is himself quite a story. He was evidently an unapologetic opponent to Reconstruction, a Klansman (or former Klansman) who shot two or three of his brethren in an argument over finances, a speechwriter for George Wallace, as well as an award winning writer who found himself on Oprah’s reading list – for a while at least. It’s a murky, dark story that you can Google up on Wikipedia.
To Carter’s credit, he keeps most of this considerable ideological baggage largely in check. Oh, it’s there, but not in way that poisons a good story. Josey Wales is a farmer caught in the murderous Border war between Missouri and Kansas that preceded the actual Civil War by a good five years. In 1858 Josey Wales would lose both his wife and young son to a “Redleg” raid. (The Redlegs are Yankees.) Wales then rides under the Black Flag of Bloody Bill Anderson. Wales is on a mission of vengeance that dovetails perfectly with the Civil War. Carter does a deft job of juggling the complicated history as well as the psychology behind a man like Wales, Scots-Irish to the core:
If Josey Wales had understood all the reasons, which he did not, he still could not have explained them to the boy. There was, in truth, no place for Josey to go. The fierce mountain clan code would have deemed it a sin to take up life. His loyalty was there, in the grave with his wife and baby. His obligation was to the feud. And despite the cool cunning he had learned, the animal quickness and the deliberate arts of killing with pistol and knife, beneath it all there still rose the black rage of the mountain man. His family had been wronged. His wife and boy murdered. No people, no government, no king, could ever repay. He did not think these thoughts. He only felt the feelings of generations of the code handed down from the Welsh and Scots clans and burned into his being. If there was nowhere to go, it did not mean emptiness in the life of Josey Wales. The emptiness was filled with a cold hatred and a bitterness that showed when his black eyes turned mean.
But the War eventually does end, and Wales must make choices that require his leaving the geography he calls home. This is another area where Carter excels, showing the changing American landscape as Wales transitions from Missouri to Texas. At his best, Carter descriptions had me recalling Cormac McCarthy, and that’s a good thing:
Imperceptibly, the land changed. The buffalo grass grew thinner. Here and there a tall spike of yucca burst a cloud of white balls at its top. Creosote and catclaw bushes were dotted with the yellow petals of the prickly pear and the savagely beautiful scarlet bloom of the cactus. Every plant carried spike or thorn, needle or claw . . .necessary for life in a harsh land. Even the buttes that rose in the distance were swept clean from softening lines, and their rock-edged silhouettes looked like gigantic teeth exposed for battle.
Along the way, Wales (as in the movie) acquires a train of dependents. There are a number times when extreme violence of the Tarantino kind takes over, and Carter handles gun battles and Indian torture like a pro. There are some slight differences from the movie (which is pretty faithful). One big difference is that Wales’ Indian companion, Lone Watie, is a more heroic figure. In the movie, Eastwood used him as comic relief. If you enjoyed the movie, I highly recommend the book, since it adds historical texture along with greater character development. ...more
Poets, Viking ones at least, could be genuine bad asses. Egil Skallagrimsson, the subject of this saga, is Exhibit A. At the age of 7 (or 6), while plPoets, Viking ones at least, could be genuine bad asses. Egil Skallagrimsson, the subject of this saga, is Exhibit A. At the age of 7 (or 6), while playing a game of Viking ball (whatever that is), Egil gets knocked aside by a 12 year old. Egil then goes home, gets a battle axe, returns to the game, and then buries that axe in the offending 12 year old's head. (Kind of like coming in off the sidelines to make a tackle -- Viking style.) A Viking scrum of sorts erupts, with bodies, blood, etc. But after things settle down, Mom sees that her son has real potential as a Viking!
Actually I jumped ahead a bit. Egil's Saga spans the years 850 - 1000 AD. Egil himself doesn't show up until about a third of the way (or more) into the story. What precedes Egil arrival is a complicated story about Harald the Fair-hair's conquest of Norway, and the resulting fall out that leads to various dissidents establishing themselves in Iceland. At times this can be hard to follow, as endless Thorfinns, Thorwolfs, Thorwhatevers, come and go. That can be a drag on your reading, but only if you let it. I'm sure there are all kinds of depths to be explored in the tangled relationships, but for the non-specialist, there is more than enough action to satisfy blood & guts enthusiasts. Murder, revenge, house burnings, heads chopped, eyes ripped out. It's like Deadwood with broad swords. Jacking things up considerably is the compressed, laconic prose. There is more going on in these brief chapters than sometimes happens in novels. Personally, I find the sagas to be some of the most demanding -- but also rewarding reading out there. And Egil's Saga is considered to be among the very best of the sagas.
Egil himself is a paradox. When you first meet him, you have to wonder if he's insane (see above). From early on (age 3) he's tagged as a poet (a good thing in Viking culture). He's often prone to deep depressions, so deep that it had me wondering if he wasn't bi-polar. As it turns out, he's not insane (though he does have a temper). He's well liked by many. He's also huge, a bear of a man, and ugly as hell. Honor is a big deal for Egil, especially when it comes to property disputes. On that Egil often will place himself in great personal danger in order to argue his case before the King (who has branded him an outlaw). You never feel Egil is greedy in these legal wranglings. He simply feels he's been wronged (which, when it comes to these disputes, is true). Egil can also be extremely cruel, killing a host for not being forthcoming with his ale, and later a child of the King.
And then there's the poetry. I thought most of it pretty good, with feasting ravens and wolves and swords singing (it's easy to see why Ted Hughes liked the sagas so much). One of my favorites was while(!!!) Egil was dispatching a big bully. After he finished the bully off, he sang about how he chopped off his leg. More seriously, as Egil gets older, he loses two sons in a short period of time. I found his poem to mark these losses to be very moving, and timeless in its appeal. I think this poem could have a place in any quality anthology. Overall Egil's Saga is a great read, just don't get bogged down too much with the names. The general "thrust(s)" of the story should be apparent. ...more
After the first three stories (which will quickly sift out the Eat-Pray-Love lightweights), it's hard not to think of a Tarantino movie. Murder, rape,After the first three stories (which will quickly sift out the Eat-Pray-Love lightweights), it's hard not to think of a Tarantino movie. Murder, rape, revenge, drugs, guns (lots of guns), dogs, meth labs, pot, booze, hard men and hard women, living in a hard land during a merciless time (the 1980s to the present). Characters in previous stories show up again (though in this grim landscape, you only have so many bites at the apple), as Frank Bill populates (and de-populates) his little blood soaked postage stamp of earth with enough familiarity to have you wondering at times if you aren't in fact reading a loose novel (like Faulkner's Hamlet). In the end, I felt this effort does stand as a collection of short stories, most of which seem to clock in at 15 pages or so. The stories are so short that I found myself wishing Bill had extended some of them into something longer. Most of the time they work fine just as they are, but there were a couple that faltered a bit due to the rush to wrap them up. That said, the dialogue is spot-on, the violence, memorable. Does Bill wallow in it? Yes. But what I found, which was strangely satisfying, is a pretty steady pattern of "Old Testament Wisdom" in most of these stories. When lines are crossed and your loved ones are "touched," then you must touch back. To do otherwise would be to ignore "the doctrines of existence."...more
Grettir’s Saga is considered the last of the great Icelandic sagas. The underlying message the author seems to be conveying is that a pagan culture isGrettir’s Saga is considered the last of the great Icelandic sagas. The underlying message the author seems to be conveying is that a pagan culture is rapidly being replaced by a more orderly Christian one. Maybe, but for saga lovers, not that fast. You will still find in Grettir’s Saga, the remarkable economy of language that is found generally in the sagas, as well as a great deal of extreme violence. Heads are hewed in two, and eye is gouged out, a jaw ripped off, limbs cut off, house burnings, animals tortured, monsters, etc. Interestingly, a lot of this violence occurs around various Christmas feasts.
The character, Grettir, is big and really strong. According to the author, Grettir is considered Iceland’s greatest warrior, though I wonder how he would hold against that other hulking thug, the bi-polar Egil, from Egil’s Saga. He’s also a sarcastic smart ass who’s kind of lazy. As the story unfolds, I often found myself thinking of a gunfighter or a samarai moving from town to town. He’s not totally bad (he saves women on several occasions), and his fate becomes sadder as his end approaches. Weirdly, for such a ferocious warrior, Grettir is afraid of the dark. This wasn’t always the case, but after death match (at Christmas) with a revenant, a central event in the saga, something changes in Grettir. He still cracks wise in the face of danger, but he’s haunted by a fate that closes in on him ever tighter, until in the end he’s isolated on a tiny island with some sheep. But Grettir’s ending doesn’t end the saga. The last fifteen pages or so have Grettir being avenged (naturally), but with a odd finish set in Constantinople. It’s as if another writer took over, since the tone changes. The story goes from being a saga, to a Christian fairy tale. A strange shift, but it doesn’t last very long, and it doesn’t hurt the overall saga, which is excellent. ...more
"It's the Capitol I hate, for doing this to all of us." -- Katniss Everdeen
I almost didn't read this. After flaming out very early during the Harry Po"It's the Capitol I hate, for doing this to all of us." -- Katniss Everdeen
I almost didn't read this. After flaming out very early during the Harry Potter craze, I was a bit suspicious of another YA super event (books and movies). It just sounded, on surface, so packaged, so Middle Earth. Then we watched the movie. Pretty good, with Jennifer Lawrence doing a great job (I'm a big fan of Winter's Bone) as Katniss Everdeen. The story was way darker than I expected, but ended, nervously, in a good way (but stay tuned).
Then I listened to the exceptional soundtrack (which was arranged by the incredible T-Bone Burnett). The first song, "Abraham's Daughter," by Arcade Fire, is a prophetic stunner. The lines of the song have the loaded weight of a Bible passage, with music that sounds like a grim march. A Children's Crusade of a different sort. Hearing this, my mind instantly flashed back to the movie, to a scene where Katniss/Lawrence, hiding in a tree, looked back into the camera that she knew was watching her. Her look had this I'm-watching-you-watching-me feel to it. It oozed contempt. Without knowing anything about the other books, I just knew she was going to pull this vile nation, Panem, down.
Panem is probably one of the nastiest creations I've run across in fiction (and I've run across some bad places). Maybe it's the casual acceptance of it all, from an entire society, that took Panem, for me, to the darkest level. The cruelty of the Hunger Games is by now well known, so I'm not going to go there. One thing that struck me as I read the book is that Collins is master at integrating various elements. Panem, a future state, is an unlikely combination of the cruelty of Rome, the decadent opulence of Byzantium, and the enslaving nature of Sparta. But there are no historical seams showing, no sense that things are glommed together. This world is more frightening than Orwell's or Huxley's, probably because the synthesis is more accomplished. If this book had come out 50 years ago, it wouldn't be called YA. It would be called a brutal classic that easily held its own with the other dystopian masterpieces.
Elevating all of this is the remarkable character, and voice, of Katniss Everdeen. Tough, resilient, caring (in a guarded way), and flawed. I'm still sorting her out in my mind. That said, I will say she's one of great fictional characters I've run across in a lifetime of reading. I realize this is less a review and more a recounting of movie/book and music impressions. For good reviews, I highly recommend the reviews of Aerin, mark monday, and Ceridwyn. When it comes to dystopia, I always pay attention to what they have to say. ...more
Huck Finn in Hell. The influence of both Twain and Cormac McCarthy are fairly clear to see in Daniel Woodrell's Ride with Devil (or Woe to Live on). THuck Finn in Hell. The influence of both Twain and Cormac McCarthy are fairly clear to see in Daniel Woodrell's Ride with Devil (or Woe to Live on). The sheer carnage reminds one of McCarthy's Outer Dark and Blood Meridian. But there's more. Ride With the Devil is also a coming of age novel telling the story of Jake Roedel, a young Bushwhacker (and immigrant's son), who has not known a woman, but who has killed 15 men.
In Woodrell's hands, Jake is a complex mix of child and killer. He has been hardened by a war that, in the contested border areas of Missouri & Kansas, was as murderous as modern day Bosnia. Robbery, murder, torture, in an eye for an eye conflict, was the coin of the day. Nevertheless, the reader senses the human Jake trying to peek out from beyond the hardened callus. Sometimes it's a moment of tragically misplaced pity for a northern militia acquaintance, or his growing interest in a woman, the widow Sue Lee, of his "near" brother Jack Bull. And then there's the growing friendship with Holt, a freed slave who has been riding with the bushwhackers. A common ground gradually develops between the despised immigrant's son, and the mistrusted black man, as they see the South fall apart due to invasion. Interestingly, Woodrell is able to show both characters growing dissatisfaction for the Southern cause, as it's increasingly being fought (the raid on Lawrence being a point of true descent), while at the same time retaining their hate for Northerners who seek to impose, through invasion, new unjust rules for the old. A subtle truth that historians still can't seem to get right, but which acquires an awful plausibility in the half-boy, half-man voice of Roedel. This is fine novel that should be probably be viewed beyond the genre of a western. Certainly, the romance in the novel is of a truer nature, given it is a time of war, than the high romantic one in Cold Mountain (which I liked). Ride With the Devil can sit quite comfortably beside that Frazier's fine novel. It has its own grim, but ultimately hopeful truths, to pass on. ...more
Simply put, this is one of the most enjoyable novels that I've ever read. It really should be a part of any American Lit. survey, because as a piece oSimply put, this is one of the most enjoyable novels that I've ever read. It really should be a part of any American Lit. survey, because as a piece of Americana, it easily holds it's own against novels like The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Red Badge of Courage, and The Scarlet Letter. This novel contains some of the best dialogue that I have ever read, so it shouldn't be a surprise that the original True Grit movie lifted, verbatim, large chunks of passages from the book. Portis' ear for dialogue is every bit as good as Elmore Leonard, but with a sense of regionalism (historic and geographic) that matches Faulkner's. But now that I've mentioned the original movie (with the Coen brothers effort soon to be released), I really have to insist that you read the book -- hopefully first. There are some differences, especially at the conclusion of the novel. There is also some layering that gets lost (at least with the original movie). The lingering effects of the Reconstruction (the story takes place mostly in Arkansas), color much of what goes on. For example, Mattie's dealings with the horse trader, Stonehill (who I believe is a carpet bagger), seem to have an underling measure of contempt -- from both sides, though Stonehill seems to appreciate the fact that he's met his match in the determined fourteen year old. (These comic exchanges are, to my mind, a rival to Faulkner's "Spotted Horses.")
The Civil War, as a still unfolding event, is also always present, as the past histories of both the Texas Ranger, LaBoeuf, and Rooster Cogburn, play out during the course of the novel. Cogburn, who rode with Quantrill, seems, to some extent, to be haunted and embarrassed by that association. In an argument with LaBoeuf, he's reluctant to admit the unit he fought with, and this argument later leads to Cogburn getting falling down drunk, as he mumbles rationalizations and regrets to himself. Clearly, though it's left unsaid, he did, or the very least saw things that cut against his hard notions of right and wrong. You have to wonder if this past led him, at least in part, to being a U.S. Marshall. Another aspect that gets lost with the transition from book to movie, is that the book is an account by Mattie, as an older woman, looking back on her great adventure, one that would define her for the rest of her life. And for her, that's a good thing, since she would avenge the murder of her father. For at heart Mattie is an accountant, and the tragic loss of her father upset the moral balance sheet in her mind. She corrects that, and the cost she pays is small in comparison to the righting of that wrong. Her instrument of vengeance, Rooster Cogburn, is in many ways a like minded character. Rooster is not the only character in the book with "true grit." ...more
Really dark noir. Brutal, perverse at times, and unrelenting. The story opens with a jewelry heist gone bad, hostages, and the murder of a child and hReally dark noir. Brutal, perverse at times, and unrelenting. The story opens with a jewelry heist gone bad, hostages, and the murder of a child and his mother. Roll it forward 15 years, Raffaello Begiatto, the shooter, is in prison, dying of cancer. On the outside, the husband and father of the mother and child, Silvano Contin, lives a half life of TV, work, and bed. Beggiatto, since he's terminal, applies to be released, hoping that he can recover his portion of the stolen loot, and spend his last days in Brazil. Contin would like to see Beggiatto out as well, but Brazil isn't part of his plan. The story is told, interestingly enough, through each man's voice in alternating chapters. Lines in blur, but in the way you would expect. This is a very quick read, since it clocks in at 150 pages with white space, and big type, but perfectly paced. Not an ounce of fat, and as mean as they come....more
Super violent, over-the-top pulp thriller that crosses elements of The Searchers with the Manson family (and a satisfying touch of The Missouri BreaksSuper violent, over-the-top pulp thriller that crosses elements of The Searchers with the Manson family (and a satisfying touch of The Missouri Breaks at the end). Case, the junkie bad girl heroine, is as tough as they come, which is good news, because she'll need to be. Teran's first book, and still his best. I suspect "Teran" is pen name....more
Easily holds it's own with the great works of world literature that I've read. Very understated language, so much so that in comparison Hemmingway comEasily holds it's own with the great works of world literature that I've read. Very understated language, so much so that in comparison Hemmingway comes across as a purple prose practitioner. Violent? You bet. Probably the greatest Revenge story ever. ...more
A great start to a fine crime series. I hesitated over reading this one, since I've seen both the Lee Marvin and Mel Gibson versions. Not to worry, thA great start to a fine crime series. I hesitated over reading this one, since I've seen both the Lee Marvin and Mel Gibson versions. Not to worry, the book is considerably different (though Gibson's version seemed closer to the original story). Stark's (Westlake) Parker is one brutal character, and probably the ultimate anti-hero. And in this, the first novel, he enters the story (and NewYork) like some sort of caveman, wired for survival:
"His hands, swinging curve-fingered at his sides, like they were molded of brown clay by a sculptor who thought big and liked veins. His hair was brown and dry and dead, blowing around his head like a poor toupee about to fly loose. His face was a chipped chunk of concrete, with eyes of flawed onyx. His mouth was a quick stroke, bloodless. His suit coat fluttered behind him, and his arms swung easily as he walked."
That's probably the most complete physical description of Parker that I've read so far. This paricular entry reveals more about Parker than most. That's not much, but you do find that he was married, and a bit of his back story (who he's killed, robbed, etc.). If you've read a Parker novel before, you will also note a few un-Parker like outbursts of emotion. Then again, he's on a mission of vengeance. Absolutely the wrong person to have coming after you. Still, for all of his brutalities, you find yourself pulling for him, especially when contrasted with the "Outfit," which seems to be Stark's send-up of the real criminals, the ones without any code at all: corporate America.
I've read all three of the Michael Forsythe books, and I think this the best one. Forsythe is a great character, funny, smart, surprisingly literate (I've read all three of the Michael Forsythe books, and I think this the best one. Forsythe is a great character, funny, smart, surprisingly literate (on this front, he's nearly a prodigy), missing one foot (see the first book in the series), and a stone cold killer. Dead Yard starts a little slow, with a story line involving a rogue IRA group. Going into it I was only so-so on the set up, but then the characters got established and Murder began. It contains one of the best "mission of vengeance" end scenes I've read in all of fiction. Do not mess with this dude! As he tells a character earlier in the book (and he's not bragging), you probably need, as a start, some kryptonite to bring him down....more
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