Okay, so here was my original line of thinking:
Robert Urich runs around exercising and spouting tough guy lines in between long bouts of jumping rope and punching a heavy bag, and occasionally solves mysteries. His pseudo-partner, Avery Brooks, stands around looking surly and speaking in one liners, deadpan-style.
This is the TV show 'Spenser: For Hire', and therefore these are the Spenser novels, by Robert B. Parker.
I have not, ever, been more wrong about literature in my life. And I read a looooot of books.
Parker's 'Spenser' is the be-all end-all creation intended by Hammet and Chandler back in the day. He is the successor to Travis McGee and Lew Archer (if you don't know what I am talking about, just follow along...it gets better), and he is the penultimate modern-day detective.
He does not, often, know what it is that he is doing. All he knows is that he sees an obstacle, and so he gnaws at it. He worries it and he makes an obstacle of himself, a nuisance that has to be removed, or at the very least is a temptation to those behind the scenes...And so they show themselves. And then the books kick into gear.
Spenser, a former boxer, ex-cop, and war hero, is a badass. Hawk, his "partner", is a hitman, black as night, an amoral counterpoint to Spenser's knight in tarnished armor, and his wise-cracking best friend.
I have never, EVER, had as much fun reading as I had reading these books. I blew through the 20-odd of them in a month and a half, and since most of them were at used bookstores I didn't even spend that much.
If you've read them, pipe up with the love or the hate. If you haven't, go get one and start cutting your teeth on them. These are not "whodunits". These are not "Miss Marple". Nor are these super-modern 'thrillers' like "Silence of the Lambs" or John Sanford's "Prey" novels.
These are the inner workings of one of the finest minds that doesn't exist that you will ever get to know. And love.
Robert Urich runs around exercising and spouting tough guy lines in between long bouts of jumping rope and punching a heavy bag, and occasionally solves mysteries. His pseudo-partner, Avery Brooks, stands around looking surly and speaking in one liners, deadpan-style.
This is the TV show 'Spenser: For Hire', and therefore these are the Spenser novels, by Robert B. Parker.
I have not, ever, been more wrong about literature in my life. And I read a looooot of books.
Parker's 'Spenser' is the be-all end-all creation intended by Hammet and Chandler back in the day. He is the successor to Travis McGee and Lew Archer (if you don't know what I am talking about, just follow along...it gets better), and he is the penultimate modern-day detective.
He does not, often, know what it is that he is doing. All he knows is that he sees an obstacle, and so he gnaws at it. He worries it and he makes an obstacle of himself, a nuisance that has to be removed, or at the very least is a temptation to those behind the scenes...And so they show themselves. And then the books kick into gear.
Spenser, a former boxer, ex-cop, and war hero, is a badass. Hawk, his "partner", is a hitman, black as night, an amoral counterpoint to Spenser's knight in tarnished armor, and his wise-cracking best friend.
I have never, EVER, had as much fun reading as I had reading these books. I blew through the 20-odd of them in a month and a half, and since most of them were at used bookstores I didn't even spend that much.
If you've read them, pipe up with the love or the hate. If you haven't, go get one and start cutting your teeth on them. These are not "whodunits". These are not "Miss Marple". Nor are these super-modern 'thrillers' like "Silence of the Lambs" or John Sanford's "Prey" novels.
These are the inner workings of one of the finest minds that doesn't exist that you will ever get to know. And love.





I'm waiting on Purple Cane Road.