Category: Authors Page 120 of 123

Dusted Off: Too Many Cooks by Rex Stout

The fifth volume in the Archie Goodwin/Nero Wolfe series, Too Many Cooks, is probably the most controversial, and (no probably necessary) one of the more entertaining and unusual entries in the Corpus. One of the eccentricities that Nero Wolfe spent so much time and energy cultivating is his rule about not leaving the house on business, yet this is the third novel to feature him outside his beloved brownstone. Yes, this time, it didn’t start out as a business trip, but still…

The story opens with Wolfe boarding–sacré bleu!–a train, bound for West Virginia where he will be the guest of honor at the meeting of Les Quinze Maîtres (The Fifteen Masters–a group of the world’s greatest chefs), being held at the Kanawha Spa resort. Of course, when we have a P.I. on vacation, someone must be murdered (what I call (Jessica) Fletcher’s Law). Wolfe does what he does best here, turn the crime and the uncovering of the villain/villains to his profit–this time, not for money, tho–something far more important, a recipe.

As this book takes place 14 hours (by train) away from Wolfe’s home, there’s obviously not a lot here that further establishes the recurring elements in the series, with one exception. This is the first time we meet Marko Vukcic, Wolfe’s oldest friend and one of the two men who call him “Nero.” Marko is the owner of Rusterman’s, a restaurant that will be featured throughout the long run of the series, and a place I’d love to eat at a time or two. Wolfe will talk to, and interact with, Marko in a way he will not do with anyone else–seeing him like this is quite the change.

Earlier I called this one of the more controversial novels in the Corpus, that is simply because of the language used to describe the African American employees of the resort–and a few others of various ethnic backgrounds. Deplorable language that would not be tolerated today, period. Even Archie uses it! Wolfe, of course, does not, and because of his civility and ability to treat the staff with dignity (and even with a nice little speech about equity) he’s able to win them over and get them to divulge information they kept from the authorities. Many are shocked and/or bothered by Stout’s use of ethnic pejoratives and have called for the publisher to edit this volume for future editions. Such a ridiculous notion, that. I would encourage you to read Barbara D’Amato’s blogpost about ‘satiable curtiosity in that regard.

As far as notable quotations from this one, I don’t have a large crop. I have two quotes from Archie, which while not getting into specifics, describe a woman in such a way that the reader can A. come up with their own mental image of her and B. absolutely understand why pretty much every male in the book will fall under her spell. The third quotation is Wolfe defending himself from the charge that he doesn’t like women (he is often accused, wrongly, by readers/critics/characters of antipathy towards the fairer sex), in a way that illustrates his character wonderfully.

…just as I flipped my [cigarette] butt through the crack between the train and the platform, I could have picked a star right there–or at least touched one. She passed by close enough for me to get a faint whiff of something that might have come from a perfume bottle but seemed only natural under the circumstances, and while her facial effect might have been technicolor, it too gave you the impression that it was intended that way from the outset and needed no alterations. The one glance I got was enough to show that she was no factory job, but hand-made throughout. . . . I muttered to myself, “My heart was all I had and now that’s gone, I should have put my bloody blinders on,” [and] shrugged with assumed indifference…

She had removed her wrap but her hat was still on, and the odor, faint and fascinating, was the same as when she had passed me on the station platform. I had a chance now to observe that she was as young as love’s dream, and her eyes looked dark purple in that light, and her lips told you that she was a natural but reserved smiler. Wolfe gave her a swift astonished glance…

[Wolfe speaking] Not like women? They are astounding and successful animals. For reasons of convenience, I merely preserve an appearance of immunity which I developed some years ago under the pressure of necessity.

Dusted Off: The Red Box by Rex Stout

this is my best attempt at recreating what was lost earlier, I had a hard enough time finishing this the first time, my heart’s just not into making this pretty. Just going for done.

Ugh, I thought it was bad when I was a book behind by Week 3 of this little project* , and now I’m two behind in Week 6? Not pretty…so I’d better hurry up and talk about The Red Box, the fourth novel in the Nero Wolfe/Archie Goodwin series by Rex Stout.

Thanks to a nice piece of trickery, Wolfe is dragged out of his office(!!!) to investigate a murder at a fashion show. A poisoned box of chocolate ended up in the wrong hands and stomach, cyanide in an almond candy, of course. Before he can figure out who’s responsible, Wolfe first has to determine who the target was. And he has to move fast, because there’s a whole lot of cyanide being tossed around and the bodies are going to start piling up.

I had a blast reading this one, I apparently hadn’t picked this one up in ages, but I don’t think I’ll make that mistake again. Now, I’m having a hard time writing this one up because there’s nothing remarkable about this one, unlike the previous installments–yes, the methodology is creative, the motivation is novel–but that’s par for the course. There are no new features to the corpus (well, a minor one, but it’s nothing unique to Stout), the regular cast of characters are pretty well set (had some good scenes with Saul and the gang). This is exactly what one is supposed to get out of a Wolfe novel.

This novel does introduce us to another feature common to Wolfe stories, ‘tho Archie seems to make a bigger deal of it here than later–it must have worked well enough for Stout to decide to use it again and again. As Archie put it it

that case was just one damned client after another

The client that dragged Wolfe into the case ended up trying to fire him, and then eventually did; which was okay, because a richer client wanted in on it; but that wasn’t the end of it. This did serve to move the plot along, and provide a few humorous moments, but that’s about it.

There were several great lines–those that had me rolling or were particularly insightful, but as I looked them over, I realized they all need too much context (up to a page or two) to appreciate/understand, so you’ll have to wait until tomorrow or so for some samples of Archie the wordsmith. A lot of good back and forth between Archie and Wolfe, Archie and the clients/witnesses/cops/basically everyone, Wolfe and Cramer, and so on.

* and now that I’ve publicly announced I’m undertaking a project/doing a series here, I’ll make it one more entry before crashing and burning. Curses! Foiled again!

Dusted Off: The First Rule by Robert Crais

Robert B. Parker did many things to revolutionize as well as revitalize the hardboiled detective novel. One of those things was to introduce a character who would work alongside the detective/detectives and handle the more violent/thuggish aspects of the story, as well as watching the back of those doing the sleuthing. These characters do a lot of their work “offscreen”, keeping the more reputable portion of the duo free from the stain of their violence; they’re mysterious, usually not given to talking a lot, and tend to wear sunglasses more often than necessary. For Parker it was Hawk, for Robert Crais, it’s Joe Pike.

Back in ’07 with The Watchman Crais did something that Parker couldn’t do — he wrote a novel from the point of view of Pike. Honestly, I didn’t have high hopes for it, and really would have rather Crais had spent his time on another Elvis Cole novel (for the record, that was my reaction to all his non-Elvis novels, even those that I ended up liking). The Watchman turned out to be a fun read–re-readable, actually; and Pike was able to carry a story with Elvis functioning as his sidekick. So when it was announced that Crais’ 2010 novel would be another Pike novel, I wasn’t nearly as disappointed as I would’ve been if it had any other non-Elvis book.

With The First Rule Crais out-did himself, crafting a weightier tome for Pike that equals the more recent Cole books for quality. After his time in the service, Pike led a small mercenary team in a variety of third-world locales. One of his team, Frank Meyer, left before Pike, opting for a “straight life”–marriage, kids, mortgage, mini-van, etc. and has no more contact with Pike. One night Meyer and his family are killed, the latest in a series of violent home invasions. The LAPD are certain that this is proof that Meyer was some sort of criminal, Pike refuses to believe that and sets out to clear his friend’s name and exact vengeance.

What follows is a tightly-written, fast-paced, thriller, which fills in rather than expands our understanding of this enigmatic character. Crais doesn’t use these excursions of focusing on Pike to alter his character, but to help us get a better view of what he’s already created. I’m looking forward to reading this one again in a few months, almost as much as I’m looking forward to Crais’ next novel, also a Pike book.

Never thought I’d say that.

Dusted Off: The Rubber Band by Rex Stout

With the third installment of many series, you can see the author settling into the world he’s creating and while there are hints of it, Stout’s been pretty at home since Day 1–he just adjusts the furniture a bit in The Rubber Band.

I have a pretty good sense of history, but it consistently throws me when someone in an early 20th century novel makes a reference to something in their recent past (or, in this case, the past of their parents) which is straight out of a Western movie. I can look at the dates all I want, do all the subtraction necessary, and realize it’s fitting, but I can’t accept it. Doesn’t matter how many times I try, I just can’t. Which is a cryin’ shame, cuz it makes it harder for me to get through the opening chapters of this novel than it should.

Regardless, this is a fun read. You’ve got Wolfe facing off with the District Attorney and Police Commissioner, Wolfe hiding a client from the police–also featuring the introduction of Lt. Rowcliffe, who will become a favorite punching bag of this dynamic duo, some interesting back and forth between Wolfe and clients/witnesses, a good revealing of the criminal to an assembled crowd in Wolfe’s office, and best of all, a woman staying in Wolfe’s home. Archie doesn’t tell us yet how nervous this makes Fritz (that’s a standard line that will come up later), but it is clearly a novelty.

The central client to this piece is Clara Fox, the aforementioned female guest. She’s one of the top 5 female characters in the corpus. She has every male who spends ore than a few minutes with her eating out of her hand, and from what Stout tells us about her, she earns it. Often when you come across a character like that, I just don’t get the appeal (naturally, an example escapes my mind), but Ms. Fox is an exception to that rule.

I’m finding it difficult to summarize the plot without a lot of spoilers, so I’ll just quote the back of my bantam edition and leave it at that.

What do a Wild West lynching and a respected English nobleman have in common? On the surface, absolutely nothing. But when a young woman hires his services, it becomes Nero Wolfe’s job to look deeper and find the connection. A forty-year-old pact, a five-thousand-mile search, and a million-dollar murder are all linked to an international scandal [a fairly inaccurate and overly sensational conclusion to that has been removed]

I didn’t try to write down the quotable lines in this one, tho’ there were plenty. There’s really only one that matters. Clara Fox, the adventuress, sums up life in the brownstone so succinctly, so perfectly, that it’s impossible to look at The Corpus without reflecting on it. You also have to admire someone who could go toe-to-toe with Archie with that quip on the end.

You know, Mr. Goodwin, this house represents the most insolent denial of female rights the mind of man has ever conceived. No woman in it from top to bottom, but the routine is faultless, the food is perfect, and the sweeping and dusting are impeccable. I have never been a housewife, but I can’t overlook this challenge. I’m going to marry Mr. Wolfe, and I know a girl that will be just the thing for you, and of course our friends will be in and out a good deal. This place needs some upsetting.

Dusted Off: The League of Frightened Men by Rex Stout

The second installment in Stout’s Wolfe/Goodwin series is a great follow-up to Fer-de-Lance, following up the outlandish machinations of the killer in the first novel with s more subtle, psychological criminal. The main characters don’t really develop (ever), but they are honed somewhat as Stout solidifies his vision for the series.

Wolfe is approached by a man carrying both a burden of fear and guilt–back in college, he was one of a group of students (associated only by place of residence) played a prank on an underclassman which resulted in a tragedy leaving the victim crippled. Years later, these students are mostly very successful in their various fields but are bound together by this incident, they have periodically helped their victim in various ways throughout the years until he has found his own measure of success. However, it now seems that he has also taken to exacting his revenge on those he holds responsible, and Wolfe’s prospective client wants the detective to put an end to it. Wolfe sends him away, but is eventually provoked by circumstances, money and, of course, Archie to take up the case — investigating a missing persons case, two deaths, and potentially preventing many others.

Stout’s novels are filled with all sorts of characters–particularly when the clients are committees, as in this novel. Most of the characters (even, occasionally, the villains) are little more than a name and a near-stereotypical collection of behaviors/remarks. But most stories feature a character or two (beyond the regular cast of characters) that really stand out and are memorable. TLoFM features two of these: Paul and Dora Chapin. Paul Chapin is an author of some talent, who was left crippled (physically) after the prank mentioned above, but he seems to have been born with an emotional/psychiatric disability that’s worse than that–the physical injury just makes him even more demented. Contemporary authors might do more with his character, might explore the depths of his depravity more than Stout did, but they wouldn’t do so as effectively. (incidentally, he has to be played by Michael Emerson if they were ever to film this). I really can’t describe his wife without getting into spoiler territory, but the pair are amongst the most memorable of all Stout’s creations.

This is closer to the fully-formed Wolfe novel than Fer-de-Lance, but it’s not all the way there yet. For example, Inspector Cramer was smoking a pipe, not chewing a cigar; the chairs used in the office for the guests are non-descript (now that I’m looking for its first appearance, I’m really missing the red leather chair); and Wolfe uses a top-of-the-line atlas instead of his giant globe to take his fantasy trips away from a complicated case. But we are introduced to what will be mainstays of the series: large crowds assembled in Wolfe’s office a time or two; his very dramatic revealing of the solution to the case; and best of all, the introduction of Wolfe’s rival, foil, colleague, champion, and almost friend–Inspector Lionel Cramer of Homicide.

As with any Stout, there are a few handfuls of lines that deserve quoting and requoting, I really should’ve kept a notebook or something handy to jot them down. As it was, I only got three of them noted:

…with the quarry within reach, the purpose fixed, and the weapon in hand, it will often require up to eight or ten minutes to kill a fly, whereas the average murder, I would guess, consumes ten or fifteen seconds at the outside. – NW

She was following what Wolfe called the Anglo-Saxon theory of the treatment of emotions and desserts: freeze them and hide them in your belly. – AG

I felt uncertain too, when I saw her. They don’t come any uglier…At that she wasn’t really ugly, I mean she wasn’t hideous. Wolfe said it right the next day: it was more subtle than plain ugliness, to look at her made you despair of ever seeing a pretty woman again. – AG

Dusted Off: Valediction

Robert B. Parker, author of almost 70 books, died yesterday morning. When I read the news this morning, I was stunned. I knew he was getting up in years, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea. A few moments later I was hit by a powerful sense of loss — it was like I’d lost a friend.

Many others have — and will — detail the impact Parker had on American publishing, the development of detective fiction in this country (particularly through the authors he inspired), the relative merits of his work. I just want to talk a little about what he meant to me, haphazardly thrown together.

Since the summer of 1987 (or maybe 1988, I’m not sure) I’ve spent hundreds–probably thousands–of hours with Parker. With the exception of the last two years of work, I’ve read nearly all of his books multiple times–many countless times. Each year in college (while I was single, anyway), after my last class on Friday before President’s Day weekend I’d say goodbye to the world and read through the Spenser series in order–this was back before he branched out to other detectives–and many other times throughout the year I’d turn to Parker and Spenser if I needed a good read. And then he brought us Sunny and Jesse (and the Westerns, the baseball book, and the YA novels)–even more sources of enjoyment.

There’s really only one other fiction writer I’ve spent more time with–and I bet it’s a close race. More than once when I needed sanctuary from the world, I’d retreat to Parker. When I needed a comfort read, a quick read, something to break me out of a slump, or when there was a new volume published–and many other times, Parker’s world and words were there. In between those covers was a home away from home, members of my extended family and friends.

Sure, in recent years, I’ve been disappointed, even annoyed by some of his work — but I’m always back for the next go ’round, eager to forgive and forget and move on. Usually, I’ve been rewarded for that–even in his most problematic output, he could bring a smile to my face with a turn of a phrase. I’m so looking forward to the last three (I think) books coming out this year (even if I’m really sick and tired of the Cole/Hitch series, I’ll eagerly snap it up)–but I can’t imagine a year where more of my bookshelves aren’t occupied with 3+ new volumes with his name on them.

I owe Dr. Parker a deep debt of gratitude for the impact he’s made on my life, my thinking, for some great stories, essentially for some great times.

But perhaps what Parker was best at creating were characters that were well-rounded, flawed (but not irredeemably so), basically, human (not that all of his characters fit this, many were more thinly drawn than a stick figure). So for all the characters great and small, like Virgil Cole, Everett Hitch, Martin Quirk, Frank Belson, Rita Fiore, Chollo, Henry Cimoli, Joe Broz, Tony Marcus, The Grey Man, Spike, even Sunny and her family, Rosie, Pearl (both of them), Suitcase, Molly, Jesse, Paul Giacomin, Susan, Hawk (naturally), and most of all, for Spenser, I want to thank you, Dr. Parker.

You will be missed.

Dusted Off: Fer-de-Lance by Rex Stout

Rex Stout’s Fer-de-Lance is the first of 40+ books (novels or short story collections) featuring the exploits of private investigator Archie Goodwin (2 parts Huck Finn, 1 part Philip Marlowe) and his eccentric employer, Nero Wolfe (1 part Sherlock Holmes, 1 part Mycroft Holmes)–yes, I am one of those who think that Archie’s the main character in the mis-nomered Nero Wolfe Mysteries.

In reading about Rex Stout/Nero Wolfe (either by fans or professionals) there’s an oft-quoted line from Walter D. Edmonds that you simply cannot avoid seeing, “I shall never forget my excitement on reading Fer-de-Lance, sprung like Athena perfect form the Jovian brow, fresh and new and at the same time with enough plain familiar things in scene and setting to put any reader at his ease.” Aside from Oliver Wendell Holmes’ margin note (“This fellow is the best of them all.”), there’s nothing that sums up Fer-de-Lance better, sprung like Athena indeed.

It really doesn’t matter how many times you’ve read it, but upon re-reading (and probably even initial reading if this isn’t your first encounter with Wolfe and Archie–my initial read was more than 20 years ago, so I don’t remember) you can’t help be struck by how much Fer-de-Lance fits the model of a mature Wolfe novel–almost all the elements are there. These characters are introduced in practically their final format–a little tweak here and there over the course of the first few novels (off the top of my head I can’t say how many) will get them in their final form, plus the addition of a few other characters will be necessary, but the cast of characters is already over 90% complete. In the first chapter we already have Wolfe, Archie, Fritz, Theodore, Fred and Saul presented in a manner fully recognizable to the familiar reader. The story follows a fairly typical route (‘tho the identity of the murderer is revealed far earlier than is the norm), and the essential environmental elements are there–the beer, Wolfe’s eccentric schedule, the orchids, a relapse, the food, a cocky scheme to land a client, an outrageous stratagem for getting that last essential piece of evidence (not that Wolfe needs it to solve the crime, merely to prove he was correct)–the only thing missing is the gathering of the witnesses/suspects/clients for Wolfe to reveal everything in his characteristically dramatic fashion. One recurring thought I had while reading it this time was that this could just as easily have been the fifteenth installment in the series as the first.

As I don’t recall reading about Stout consulting notes–and he’s known not to rewrite any part of these stories–the fact that he can keep all the idiosyncrasies he establishes here well-intact over the next 40 years is a testimony to his mental prowess as much as anything else could be. (Contrast Stout to contemporary authors who find themselves re-writing their own protagonist’s biographies thanks to their refusal to check their facts/fix errors).

Enough of that–what about the book itself? Wolfe takes a small case as more of a favor/indulgence/get-him-off-my-back to one of his operatives and in doing so, stumbles upon a fact or two that leads him to conclude that a university president has been murdered in a preposterous manner. Seeing (and seizing) the opportunity to earn a large fee from this, Wolfe sends Archie to place a $10,000 bet with the District Attorney responsible for the area the president died in–wagering that an exhumation of the body will produce two particular evidences of homicide. No bet is made, but since it’s Nero Wolfe suggesting it, the body’s dug up, the evidence found and we’re off…

A fun read, a decent mystery (Stout will get better at this), great characters, and a good introduction to a wonderful world fit for revisiting over and over again.

Dusted Off: Dan Brown’s Worst (well Amongst them)

No secret that I hate Dan Brown–I’d rather read…um…just about anything than push myself through another one of his books. It’s been hard for me lately wandering through bookstores/book aisles in dept. stores–all that evasive maneuvering to avoid The Lost Symbol takes a toll.

So I rather enjoyed this article that bluewoad sent me today, listing the 20 worst sentences from Brown.

How they limited themselves to 20 must’ve been difficult. I imagine the process started off a lot like The Spanish Inquisition skit from Monty Python, “Our chief weapon is surprise…surprise and fear…fear and surprise…. Our two weapons are fear and surprise…and ruthless efficiency…. Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency…and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope…. Our *four*…no… *Amongst* our weapons…” Buncha writers sitting around brainstorming the “Top 3 worst Dan Brown sentences.” Which quickly becomes 5, then 10, then they had to stop at 20 because they only have so much print space.

Actually, the piece’s writer, Tom Chivers, states:

It’s not a definitive list. It couldn’t be: he has published five novels, each around 500 pages long, and the arguments over which are the worst bits will go on for a while.

It was quite the list, and one that had me literally LOLing.

Earlier in the article, Chivers quotes one critic of Brown:

Geoffrey Pullum says “Brown’s writing is not just bad; it is staggeringly, clumsily, thoughtlessly, almost ingeniously bad.”

Now that’s how you write a sentence–clever, 100% accurate and intelligent use of vocabulary.

Dusted Off: Living with the Top of Our Son’s Head

This is pretty much all we’ve seen over the last week of Frodo. It’s mostly encouraging, but a little strange at the same time.

Frodo, like his siblings, reads more than your average kid–he really has no choice in this household, like I’ve intended it all along (TLomL has intended it, too…probably not as intensely as me).* I should add that it’s not all by coercion, he actually enjoys reading. Granted, he’s not at the level I was at his age, but that’s probably a good thing. He might actually have a social life in a couple of years.

Things changed a week ago, though. After repeated suggestions from his parents over the last few months, he pulled down Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone from the shelf and dove in. I’m not going to be one of the roughly 97 bazillion people to use the line about Rowling casting a spell on him, but…she basically did that. He’s been plowing through them at a rate he’s never hit before–seven days after he started Sorcerer’s Stone, he started in on Half-Blood Prince. Samwise has been following his lead, but not at the same rate.

What’s more, he’s devoted hours to this project–he’s ignored opportunities to play outside, to play video games (not every opportunity, mind you), to do basically everything he normally does so that he can sit with a Potter novel open in front of him.

I do realize that parents all over the world have experience this phenomenon. It’s just great to see this in action. Never would’ve figured the top of his head would be such a great thing to look at (cowlick and all).

* Can I legally call that a sentence? Someone grab a Defibrillator for my inner-editor…

Dusted Off: Hey, you sass that hoopy Douglas Adams? There’s a frood who really knows where his towel is.

I may not have gone where I intended to go,
but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.
– Douglas Adams

Douglas Adams
(1952 – 2001)

What’s Towel Day? Wired has a handy article.

(thanks to Travis Avery for the banner)

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