Brooks on Books: Crime Fiction

Been reading some good crime novels recently. Like to hear about it? OK, here it go:

Friends of Eddie Coyle: Normally I find the book superior to the film, but in this case, and I may be biased from having seen it first, the 1973 movie may well provide a richer experience.

One of the best things about the quintessentially seventies movie "Coyle," directed by Peter Yates and starring an excellent Robert Mitchum, is its atmosphere. The bleak, cold, working-class Boston of the book is made all the more vivid by seeing it on screen. Plus the screenplay adapts the novel so well, there isn't a lot left to discover when you go back and read George Higgins' novel. And, hey...Mitchum.

Don't get me wrong about the novel. The dialogue is great, and the story is compelling, but this is one of those times (like pretty much every time) I wish I had read the book first, then seen the film, and I may have had more enjoyment from both.

The Seventh by Richard Stark: This is actually the sixth of Stark's series of "Parker" novels. Ha! Oh, Stark/Westlake, you cheeky monkey!

It's another stellar read, with the title referring to a share of a group heist in which Parker participates. The book shows the aftermath, and Stark includes some nice twists and aspects of Parker's world that haven't been seen yet in the series.

The only thing that irritates me is that something like the next 6 or 7 volumes are not available from my liberry. What am I supposed to do, go BUY the books? I mean, they're great and all, but they're all really fast reads for the price that the new trades fetch.

Cotton Comes to Harlem by Chester Himes: OK, I need to read some more Himes because this is a great one. There are more in the Grave Digger and Coffin Ed series about two Harlem police detectives--including multiple installments prior to this one--and I look forward to getting back into the universe.

Himes succeeds in creating the mid-20th century Harlem and putting you right in there, as well as instilling race into the crime fiction genre without forcing it or sacrificing the narrative. Yeah, there's a lot in here about whites and blacks and how their worlds interact, but there's also an exciting crime story with gripping action and fascinating characters.

One thing that stands out is the frequent--nay, the constant use of the word "mother-raping." I assume that in 1965, even an adult-targeted novel couldn't use the genuine Big Kahuna of swear words every other paragraph, but, boy, is this distracting.

I mean, yeah, it gets the job done, but it looks so odd that it's hard to focus on the content. Part of it is the hyphen, which just sticks out on the page like it's taunting you because you the reader and the author aren't collectively mature enough to handle the REAL word.

Was the "MF" word hyphenated back then? No self-respecting Richard Pryor wannabe would write it that way now, right? That thing is one word solid or no word at all. But 1965 was a different, more innocent time.

Don't let that one euphemism make you think the grittiness of the book is compromised, though. Well, I mean, it is, but not in a way that diminishes its quality...too mother-rapin' much, anyway.