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240 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1995






Troy thought of how the giants of the automobile and tire industries had destroyed the biggest public transportation system in the world- one that showed a profit every year of its existence. The money stolen from the public had not been returned; it was part of empire.In another chapter, when Troy and Diesel are driving through the night, they talk about (though don't necessarily mention by name) California's new Three Strikes law, the Biden crime bill, and Pelican Bay.
"How they gonna do it, Troy? I mean, damn, where they gonna put all them fools? How they gonna take 'em all to trial? It seems insane to me."But if I'm making the novel sound like a polemic, I'm doing it a disservice. I would guess that Bunker wrote a fair amount of it after working with Tarantino on Reservoir Dogs- and while I'm not sure that Tarantino has always rubbed off well on aspiring writers, he's a positive influence in this case. The dialogue is a lot funnier and snappier than I remember it being in Bunker's late 70s novel The Animal Factory (though the characters don't exactly pontificate about pop culture, either), and that sense of loose and profane amoral fun balances out some of the slight floridity and over-earnestness that I sometimes came across in Bunker's early stuff, qualities I'd always attributed to his being understandably self-conscious as a representative of the underclass (as he refers to it in this novel) writing primarily for- let's face it- relatively comfortable people who've only fantasized about the violent, dangerous criminal life that Bunker actually led. I almost wrote in the beginning of the first paragraph that Bunker's characters try and inevitably fail to reintegrate into the straight world, but part of the Tarantino-ness of this novel is that there's no trying, and no apologies. Troy and his crew are already well beyond that point, and Bunker makes it pretty easy to understand the mindset. Most of us don't have the familiarity and comfort with crime that Troy does. But when you consider his options as he sees them- $100,000 for one night of work vs., say, years of walking up-and-down a used-car lot and never saving nearly that much- you start to wonder what you yourself might be capable of, if you had the right friends and know-how and the same tolerance for physical danger. Bunker doesn't belabor that point, though- it would blunt the forward momentum, the manic energy and wild humor of the novel. Seeing Troy try would also bolster his moral case, cast him in a more sympathetic light; and while that case is there, Bunker refreshingly isn't interested in stacking the deck in its favor. If anything he does the opposite, allowing Troy to shrug off the knowledge that his buddy Mad Dog (as we learn pretty early on) has done some truly heinous things, and allowing us to see the increasing collateral damage of Troy's "simple" plan.
"It is insane. But they're scared."
While they waited for the coffee, Chepe asked for news of mutual friends in California prisons and elsewhere in the California underworld. Everybody asked about Big Joe first; then Harry Buckley, Bulldog, Paul Allen, Joe Cocko, Huero Flores, Shotgun, Charlie Jackass, and Preacher.It all somewhat eerily reminded me of my dad and his running friends, who always stand around (or more like lean tiredly against their respective cars) together after their runs and talk about people who sound like they're made up: "'Member Bill Rogers, ran Boston with us in '77? I saw him on the boardwalk on Tuesday, and he hadda get a hip replacement. He's gonna be out for a while." And that association is significant, I think, only insofar as it illustrates one of my main takeaways from reading Bunker's work- that whether you like to run half-marathons or rob banks comes down not to some intrinsic morality but to who you know, who you know comes down to circumstance, and circumstance is not just random chance but dictated in large part by class. Bunker makes no apologies for his characters except to suggest that they live within their horizons and do what they know how to do in order to make money and survive, just like the rest of us. I've tried to get across that the novel is tremendously entertaining, and doesn't read like the work of a bitter person. And yet implicit in everything Bunker ever wrote are uncomfortable ques...no, I won't finish the sentence that way because "raises uncomfortable questions" has become such a reviewer's cliche, and how uncomfortable do any of us really get when reading a fucking book...but let's say Bunker's work ends up causing you to wonder with renewed unease about a society that's supposed to be classless (even if we all know that's far from the case), and ostensibly believes in looking at the way social and economic circumstance shapes individual lives, but makes rehabilitation almost impossible, and maintains one of the highest incarceration rates of any country in the world.