Friday, May 04, 2012

Parker Power

by Jules Older


 I'm deep into crime fiction. I tweet about it daily in the guise of NovelCrimes. I had plans, now abandoned, to start a crime-fiction website of the same name. I've written about crime fiction in Yankee and San Francisco magazines, talked about it on Vermont Public Radio. And I read a whole heck-of-a lot of it, mostly in bed at night but also on planes and in airports. When I used to drive from Montreal to my Vermont home after monthly editorial meetings, I'd almost always have crime fiction playing in my ear. Shortened the trip by half.

I'm also deep into ski writing — those editorial meetings were for the ski magazines I edited. And when skiers learn this about me, they always ask the same question: “What’s your favorite ski area?”

(For years I used various subterfuges to avoid directly answering that. Then I finally, definitively answered it here: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/02/25/SPRP1BM9BU.DTL)

Now, crime-fiction lovers ask me, “Who’s your favorite author?” I know how to deflect that question, too, but fer sure, one of them is the late, great Robert B. Parker, creator of the Spenser series.

It was Parker I wrote about in Yankee, and Parker who's always been my greatest delight to read. I chuckle out loud about every third page. He's my guy.

But that meant I approached his final Spenser novel, the posthumously published Sixkill with real trepidation. I so wanted to love it. But hey — it was number 39, and written as he lay dying. Or — since he died in the saddle, at his desk, fingers on the keyboard — fixin’ to lay dying.

I'm relieved to report that Sixkill is pure Parker. Still funny, still wise, still written 90% in dialog, still a delight.

Parker isn't everybody’s delight, not by a long shot. One writer, very close to me indeed, uses the phrase “light and slight” to describe his prose.

Maybe so, but it’s my light and slight, and I love it. Here's a tiny sample of why:

Boston P.I. Spenser has been asked by his old pal and occasional adversary, policecaptain Quirk, to look into a murder case against a movie star named Jumbo.

“What kind of guy is he,” I said.
“Awful, Quirk said. “Food, booze, dope, sex. Never saw a girl too young. Or a guy.”
“Long as it’s alive?” I said.
“I don't know if he requires that,” Quirk said.
“But a nice guy aside from his hobbies,” I said.
“Loud, arrogant, stupid, foulmouthed,” Quirk said.
You think he’s foulmouthed?”
“Fucking A,” Quirk said.

 
— jules

No comments: