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.

Norm Crosby, I'm disappointed in you

Warning: This post will reveal the identity of the surprise guest on Sunday night's second episode of "The Comedy Shop" on RTV. I take it as a given that all of you are watching, of course, but I don't take it as a given that you have all seen it. Many viewers no doubt like to savor their "Comedy Shop" episodes, perhaps saving them for the end of the week.

'The Comedy Shop" is maybe the cheesiest oddball addition to the new-look RTV. It's an odd blend of standup, kitsch, and pop culture time capsule, and I'm hooked.

You get a beautiful Super Seventies set and theme song, and one of comedian Norm Crosby's "best friends" opens the show. Then Norm does a few jokes, and the rest of the half hour is comedians coming out and doing something like 3-minute sets. Reaction shots show the crowd in stitches even when (maybe especially when) whatever is on stage isn't all that uproarious.

This tells you all you need to know about the series: RTV has aired a total of maybe 8 episodes. The Unknown Comic has already been in two of them.

My favorite part of the show comes near the end when it's time to introduce the special surprise guest. "The Comedy Shop" even steals the "enter through a door" part of this gimmick from "The Dean Martin Show" despite not having a semblance of any set other than the comedy stage, so you get a phony door just so the Big Stars can make their grand entrance and introduce the final comedian.

Now, say what you will about Norm Crosby and his malapropism, but the guy sells the hell out of every aspect of the show. Every cut to him in the wings shows him laughing enthusiastically or giving a thumbs up to whoever is out there. But he really shines when the surprise guest arrives. Then Norm is a reliable hysterical presence on camera, "breaking up" at the banter from the mystery big shot.

The best moment of Crosby's exuberance is that moment when he opens the door and shouts out the name of the celebrity. "Jim Nabors!" "Hey, Ed McMahon!" Each guest gets a wild reaction. When Joey Bishop walked through the door, Norm acted like John F Kennedy had come back from the dead and joined him on the stage.

This is why Norm let me down last week, though: An icon of that era strode through the doorway, a man who deserved a colossal Crosby reaction, a sure Cultureshark Hall of Famer when I establish it (I'm eying a prime piece of real estate for it, but, you know, this damned economy), and Norm was uncharacteristically low-key.

How could Norm Crosby not sell the spectacular entrance of another Norm, for crying out loud? That's right, the man who got the unwarranted tepid response was the great Norman Fell.

I'll be watching tomorrow night, Norm Crosby of 40 years ago--I'll always be watching "The Comedy Shop"--and if a celebrity of similar stature arrives on the stage, I'll be looking for your standard over-the-top reaction. It's too late for Norman Fell, but it's not too late for another legend to get the kind of acclaim he deserves.

This Month in DVD

Rango: Damned if I don't still keep thinking it's the Geico Gecko. I'll bet they get that a lot. It's worse than the whole Dylan McDermott/Dermot Mulroney thing. Because they're slimy. The lizards, that is.

The Lincoln Lawyer: I'm hearing a lot of good things about this legal thriller. Maybe I'll give it a shot. And before you say it, let me address the obvious question about the title: It comes from the fact that he works out of his Lincoln CAR. It has absolutely nothing to do with Pittsburgh Pirates pitching prospect Brad Lincoln.

Arthur: Those of you who are kind of hiding out a bit till this whole Russell Brand thing blows over...it's almost safe to come back.

Insidious: Young parents fear for the family's well-being upon discovering their child is encountering dark spirits. I had the same feeling when I changed a certain diaper the other day. There had to be something otherworldly going on down there.

Limitless: Can you imagine the possibilities if you had a drug that unlocked the full potential of your brain, kind of of like what Bradley Cooper gets here? Wow. I know for one thing, I'd really plow through those "Route 66" DVDs I've been meaning to watch. I mean THE WHOLE SERIES.

Take Me Home Tonight: Hey, remember the 1980s? What's that? You never had a chance to forget them? Well, maybe you won't be excited by this Topher Grace (Hey, remember Topher Grace?) comedy. Sadly, I don't think it did well enough to warrant the inevitably titled sequel, "I Wanna Go Back."

Source Code: I don't know if I've ever heard a less exciting title for a thriller. I can think of only one phrase less captivating: "Jake Gyllenhaal in Source Code"

Honeymooners Best ofs: MPI issues a few highlight discs from the various incarnations of Lost Episodes. OK, you're milking it, fine, fine. Now that the greatest hits are out of the way, can we go back and do a definitive Lost Episodes collection?
UPDATE: Good buddy and Friend of the Site Ivan from TDOY tipped me off that a Complete Restored Series is on the way, and while it looks expensive as hell, the packaging indicates there could be significant as-yet-unreleased material on the set. I know what I'm putting atop my Xmas list.

(Yeah, I know I could have edited the post instead of putting in the cheesy UPDATE, but, come on, you got to love the drama of the cheesy UPDATE.)

(By the way, you got to love MPI for giving people that bought the best of disc mere days to enjoy it before unleashing the massive double dip.)

Dynasty Season 5: I don't know not the season when Linda Evans and Joan Collins fought in the pond. And that's about all I can contribute to this item.

Mannix Season 5: Mannix rules! After rediscovering it on DVD, I'm convinced this was one of the great crime shows of the era. Now put it on Netflix, CBS, so I don't have to actually buy it.

ER Season 15: 15 Seasons! And at least, like, 5 or 6 of them were really good. OK, each time an "ER" set comes out, I have to marvel at the show's longevity. Back to our list.

Dennis the Menace Season 2: I'm almost more surprised to see a second season of "Dennis"--after all, Warner Brothers seems kind of "pot committed" to cranking out the "ER" discs--but I'm glad Shout is sticking with "Dennis," with the third season already in the works.

Skiddoo: I remember reading Mark Evanier's hilarious posts on this legendary Otto Preminger flop and being deperate to see it, even with Evanier's warnings. I mean, any movie with Groucho and Gleason has to be worth seeing, right? Then I saw the movie on TCM, and I thought, wow, it was much better reading about it in Mark Evanier's hilarious posts. But "Skiddoo" is a film that should be on DVD if only...if only...well, it just should be on DVD, that's all.

Hobo with a Shotgun: How did this Rutger Hauer flick not become a "Snakes on a Plane"-type cult favorite? I'd argue this title is at least as good as, maybe even better a title, and isn't that really what it's all about--cool-sounding titles?

2011 NBA Champions Dallas Mavericks: For knocking off the Lakers AND the Heat in the same postseason, this team really ought to be hailed as national heroes.

Boston Bruins: 2011 Stanley Cup Champions: Uh, yeah, hockey had a playoffs, too.

Minnesota Twins 1991 World Series: The thing that comes to mind when I see this DVD collection is JACK MORRIS, and I think it in my best Jack Buck voice. Try it at home: JACK MORRIS.

(I also think about how the Pirates had a great team in '91 that could well have been in that Series, but they lost in heartbreaking fashion in the NLCS to the Braves, a defeat that's totally overshadowed by the even MORE heartbreaking NLCS loss to the Braves the next year. But why bring everyone down?)

Making of the President: the 1960s: I was thinking of getting this until I read a review in which some jerk gave away the ending to all 3 elections.

TNT, you know drama, but not the way to my heart

In the words of Ralph Kramden, "Don't steam me, Alice, because I'm already steamed." It's a week or so after the announcement, and I'm still peeved that TNT We Know Drama
canceled "Men of a Certain Age." What, just because people weren't watching it? Well, they SHOULD have been. That ought to count for something. Especially when it's not my money putting it on the air.

I'm just getting worn down in general by so many of my favorite shows getting canned way before their time. I'm still miffed about "Terriers" not catching on. And "Sports Show with Norm MacDonald" is a fresh loss that's still stinging. Let's face it, it's not just about the networks, but it's about the American public, too, which is supporting too much crap while ingoring some of
the good stuff. I could mention those lousier shows by name here, but I won't because I don't want to offend anyone, and besides, I'm going to name them in a paragraph or two, anyway.

But since I'm not gonna go around and harangue the American public, at least not until gas prices come down a lot more, I find it easier to blame the networks that wrong me. I'm starting with you, TNT We Know Drama.

From this day forward, I refuse to watch any of the following shows that air on TNT We Know Drama:

The Closer, Hawthorne, Rizzoli and Isles, Franklin and
Bash, Memphis Beat, Southland, and reruns of Angel.

Don't let the fact that I don't currently watch any of these programs diminish the impact of the boycott.

(I'm gonna keep watching Falling Skies" because it was on my DVR before "Men of a Certain Age" got the axe. Besides, Mrs. Shark likes it, and it's something we can watch together. But I'm still steamed.)

Lost Treasures of Yore #2: The lost art of an announcer reading the credits

What I'd really like to see is something that used to occur over the end credits of many programs. I know, I know, we hardly SEE end credits anymore, so this is a long shot, but the thing of which I think is so quaint, it would never be implemented today, anyway, so why let anything stop me?

I love watching an old TV show's credits roll when all of a sudden an announcer tells you, "So and so was played by so and so," and then rattles off a few more names. It cracks me up because for one, would it have killed them to put an extra card or two on screen with those names? Also, it just sounds totally old-fashioned for some reason, especially when the verbiage is like that on "Sgt. Bilko": "The part of the doctor was played by so and so, and the part of the general was played by so and so." (Incidentally, we could also use a good character actor like so and so these days).

It conjures up an image of a middle-aged couple sitting in front of the Philco watching their stories, and Mother looks up from her knitting at the end of the show and asks, "I wonder who played the part of the doctor?" And Pa says, "Shh, mother! Maybe he'll tell us in a minute if you can shut your goldurned trap!"

On "Burns and Allen," they do this with simpler language: "Appearing on tonight's show were so and so as so and so..." It sounds less archaic than inserting the phrase "the part," but it still sounds old-school, and old-school in an especially pleasing manner.

Maybe they didn't have the money to spring for the extra credits in those days, or maybe they did everything so quickly and cast things at the last minute so often that they didn't have time. Whatever the reason, I think the announcer reading off the guest stars at the end of the program is a cool relic of old television and one that I'd like to hear again.

In fact, I'd like to hear it in real life. For instance, it would be useful if, when you exited a party at the end of an evening, an unseen announcer declared, "The man with the contacts in marketing was Mitchell Davis. The woman in the green dress was Monica Edleman."

Brooks on Books: Baseball doubleheader again

I enjoyed two recent baseball books featuring excellent concepts: "The Baseball Codes" by Jason Turbow with Michael Duca is an excellent look at the myriad unwritten rules in the sport, and I recommend it with reservation. Kostya Kennedy's "56: Joe DiMaggio and the Last Magic Number in Sports" is a gripping biography of both Joe D. himself and the Yankee Clipper's legendary 56-game hitting streak in 1941, but I have some concerns with it.

"Codes" covers stuff like when it is considered "appropriate" to charge the mound, when it is acceptable for other players to join in the fracas, and many other points of etiquette and custom not dealing with fighting as well. There is a lot of material about cheating in all its forms and even significant discussion about when it's "OK" to essentially stop trying too hard, or in other words, how small a lead can be before you have to stop doing things like stealing bases.

Turbow and Duca don't pass judgment but pass along what their research tells them. They use numerous examples to illustrate these codes of conduct and supplement them with extensive interviews and lots of quotes, many on the record. Looking at the big picture, two things out: Players themselves, even teammates, often can't even come to a consensus on what the unwritten rules really are; and partly because of that first factor, baseball players frequently come off as petty when they criticize others for perceived slights or offenses against the game.

It's an excellent book with a great flow, one that offers solid structure and clarity while letting the players' voices stand out. This is an excellent read, and maybe it's because I expected little, but it's one of the most entertaining sports volumes I've read lately.

I'm not sure that all the anecdotes in "Codes" are authentic, but at least they come from research and/or interviews, and the authors provide extensive notes on their work and quote people within the text. Kennedy takes a more troubling approach in "56."

On one hand, his ambition is admirable, as he paints vivid portraits of New York in 1941, with rich details and numerous quotes of both everyday citizens and the athletes and prominent figures in the narrative. But when I dug into it, I wondered how he was getting such detail. Clearly he interviewed people like Mario Cuomo and Gay Talese for their reminisces about what DiMaggio and the Streak meant to them and their contemporaries. But Joe D. and teammate and close friend Lefty Gomez (a key figure in the story) are dead, and one wonders where Kennedy gets all their direct quotes and thoughts. Is he drawing from others' reportage, using secondary sources, or recreating conversations based on what he thinks happened? I don't know, because Kennedy doesn't tell us. I kept expecting him to address this at some point, preferably up front but at least in a section in the back, but unless I missed it, there is no explanation in the book. Dayn Perry's Reggie Jackson bio at least featured a message from the author relating his thought process as to why and how he included dialogue he imagined.

So I had doubts in the back of my mind while reading "56." Another area Kennedy's ambition may overwhelm his book is the writing style, which seems to be aiming for something more literary than your standard sports history, but sometimes results in some awkward prose. I should know. The reader who borrowed the book from the library before me included some "helpful" underlinings and notes in the margins to highlight some of it.

OK, so I have issues with the book. But "56" remains a compelling read. The concept is a great one: Take us through that 1941 season, particularly the streak, and along the way tell the often-intimate story of the great ballplayer, mixing in details about life as a baseball fan in the era through the stories of various fans. There are glimpses of the media coverage and the effect of the streak on the rest of the Yanks and the rest of the major leagues. Kennedy also writes about other notable streaks, particularly Pete Rose's 44-gamer in 1978. There is a less-effective section on statistical analysis as it pertains to hitting streaks, but the author wisely sticks it at the end.

If you can put aside quibbles with some passages and the larger concern of sourcing--and I could enough to get into it--"56" is an exciting story. Kennedy judiciously chooses which games and moments to highlight and which one to cover more briefly, but overall he provides a detailed account of the 56 games.

There are interesting moments as the streak builds and DiMaggio approaches previous records. Pressure mounts not just on Joltin' Joe but on his teammates, who face issues like whether to play for the win in a tight game or play to prolong the game or inning so Joe can get another at-bat and chance to extend the streak. There is also pressure on the official scorers and even opposing pitchers and managers--Is it OK to take the bat out of his hands if he's 0 for 3 and walk him (this is the kind of thing covered in "The Baseball Codes")? Is it more honorable to go after him and pitch to him, even if it contradicts accepted strategy?

Kennedy describes these pressures well and creates a narrative that remains suspenseful even though you know from the title of the book, at the very least, what happens. I wish he were a little more upfront about his approach--or better yet, didn't use that approach because the story didn't require it--and maybe a bit more restrained with his writing, but I do like "56."